luvissoluving - Tumblr blog

luvissoluving · 3 months ago

Text

oh my god

what’s your fantasy? | choi su-bong (thanos)

pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x f!reader

warnings: successful!thanos au, smut, unprotected sex, oral, cheating, spanking, biting, choking, fingering, manhandling, lots of vaping, pain kink, mask kink (ghostface), name calling, voyeurism-ish (kink?), cocky!thanos, sex tape, lots of dirty talk, some moments of fluff. if I missed any, i can only apologize.

note: halloween is here seven months early! i got carried away again — this is 11.4k words. i just really like thanos and ghostface. and maybe the boyfriend is very loosely based on a real person, maybe he isn’t. mind your business. also if there are any typos i’m sorry, but i read over it like 100 times before posting, please just enjoy.

———————

You’d known Su-bong before Thanos. You met through mutual friends and immediately hit it off due to your similar interests. You became inseparable until he started spending more time with his entourage, and the Thanos persona began to form. For a while, you thought that the two of you would have made a good couple until Su-bong’s ego grew worse.

You met your current boyfriend, Shota, on a business trip to Tokyo. He helped you find your hotel when you were lost, in exchange for your phone number. He was kind and funny, so you didn’t see the harm in giving him your number. Six months into the long-distance relationship, you’ve grown to care for him, even though your opposing schedules keep you apart most days.

When you started dating Shota, there was a distinct change in the way Su-bong acted towards you. He was even cockier than you thought possible, flaunting his wealth and good fortune at every opportunity. Shota didn’t like him, and suggested that you spend less time with him, but you assured your boyfriend that Su-bong was just growing into his fame and needed friends to keep him grounded.

After Su-bong’s album went platinum, he bought a secluded, oversized home on the Han River. He’d always fantasized about having a beautiful home with more space than he knew what to do with. Having grown up watching his favorite West Coast rappers throw lavish house parties in their million dollar mansions, the ink was barely dry on the house deed before he started planning his first celebration: a Halloween party.

He hired a party planner to decorate and invite influencers that he’s never met before, all in the interest of growing his brand. You struggled with the decision to attend the party or not, knowing that you likely wouldn’t know most of the people, but Halloween was your favorite holiday and you wanted to dress up with your boyfriend.

Standing near the fireplace of Su-bong’s living room, watching a group of a hundred strangers dancing, was not the way you expected the party to go. Shota had an event in Japan that ran late and had not yet arrived, which left you as a sexy Little Red Riding Hood without a Big Bad Wolf. You were cold and a little embarrassed, hoping that Shota would show up soon.

Su-bong stands with a friend at the top of the steps by his kitchen. His Ghostface mask is pulled back from his face, resting on top of his head so he can hit his vape. You watch him nod as his friend speaks, but his eyes are scanning the room. You assume he’s in search of a woman to annoy for the night, so you look away, glancing down at your phone to check the time. 9:30. It’s still early, but your boyfriend should be here by now.

You look back towards Su-bong to get a better view of his costume. Beyond the mask, he’s not the traditional Ghostface, but more relaxed. A hoodie, jeans, gloves, and boots — all black. He didn’t ordinarily dress in muted colors, but loved to be more vibrant, that way people would pay attention to him. With this costume, he almost blends in, if not for the strands of purple hair peeking from under the hood.

When Su-bong locks eyes with you suddenly, it’s as though he felt you staring. You try to give him a friendly smile, as you normally would, but you find it harder to do. Something about seeing him dressed this way stokes the fire within you that you thought had long been snuffed out.

Su-bong smirks slowly, taking another hit from his vape before he adjusts the mask over his face again. He pulls his hood up, tilting his head to the side as he still watches you from across the room. When he carefully takes the three steps down to the living room, you break your gaze from him. Your heart pounds in your chest, your mind racing with the former attraction you had for him.

It wasn’t something you’d felt since you started dating Shota. Mostly, you had to force yourself to stop thinking of Su-bong in that way, but also you really cared for Shota. Tonight, however, with Su-bong dressed like Ghostface, you feel a sheen of sweat beginning to form.

Why the fuck do you like how he’s dressed?

You suddenly feel hot, and need some fresh air so you maneuver around the crowd to slip out the door to the garden. You cross to the railing, leaning against it to stare out at the river in the darkness. You’re able to take a few deep breaths and let the cool breeze blow across your heated skin, calming your nerves.

“Well, you look good enough to eat.” The voice is muffled by a mask, and briefly you’re confused as to who might be standing behind you, until they speak again. “Out here all alone in the night, you must be waiting for your Big Bad Wolf.”

“Fuck off, Su-bong.” You cock your arm back to elbow him in the stomach, causing him to let out a grunt that he quickly turns into a laugh. He steps past you so he can lean against the railing in front of you now, undoubtedly smirking behind his Ghostface mask.

“Did you leave your little boyfriend in Japan tonight?” he asks, looking around as if he really expects to locate him nearby.

“Little? He’s bigger than you.”

“Not where it counts.”

“Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”

“This is more fun,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders when he turns his head back to you. “It’s so easy to get under your skin.” You sigh and roll your eyes, leaning your elbow against the railing.

“I’m surprised you let everyone wear their shoes in your new house,” you say, attempting to change the subject to something more normal.

“I hired cleaners to come tomorrow,” he says, with a small laugh, and you drop your gaze to the ground. “You can’t even look at me right now. It’s the mask, isn’t it?” You turn back to him, staring straight at his masked face with a shrug.

“I’m looking at you, Su-bong,” you say, blandly, although he’s right — you find it difficult to look at him without your mind creeping into uncharted territory. Su-bong tugs the mask off of his face, settling it on top of his head, the smirk on his face almost too smug.

“I saw you staring before,” he says, hitting his vape. “Is the difference that I’m standing so close to you right now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” he quirks his eyebrows, amused. “So, this doesn’t bother you?” He takes a couple of steps towards you, slow and deliberate, until there’s only about a foot between your bodies.

“Su-bong,” you say, pressing your hand to his chest to push him away, but you find yourself not trying too hard to stop him.

“I’ve never seen you wear something this short before,” he continues, ignoring you as his fingers begin to play with the hem of your skirt. “Did Little Red Riding Hood wear fishnets and a corset in the story? I don’t remember anything about her being a slut.”

Your mouth feels dry, your breath hard to catch as Su-bong speaks. You always called him a mouthpiece because he was never stuck on what to say in any given situation, but you’d never experienced this. Your instinct as someone who has a boyfriend is to tell him you’re not interested, but the nagging urges that have for him seemingly resurfaced are complicating things. You wonder how he manages to be tuned in to what your turn-ons are.

Without your protests, Su-bong’s fingers start to toy with the tulle under your skirt, creeping closer and closer to touching your thighs. Even with gloves on, the sensation of Su-bong’s hands on you makes you tense with anticipation. Your phone suddenly vibrating in your hand snaps you out of your trance quickly, and you look down at the screen to see your boyfriend’s name.

“Uh-oh, Shooter’s calling,” Su-bong teases. You slap his hand away from your skirt, your face flushing in both arousal and embarrassment. You take a few steps away from Su-bong so he won’t be able to listen to your phone call.

“Hey, babe,” you answer the call, keeping your voice low. “Where are you? Did you get lost?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, his voice tired. “I’m still at Haneda. My…flight was delayed.”

“Oh,” you say, dropping your shoulders.

“I’m not sure how much longer it will be. I guess I should have taken the train, like you suggested.” You don’t reply, your disappointment getting the better of you. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you had the costumes ready, and you were really excited.”

“It’s okay,” you mutter.

You feel yourself getting annoyed at how his tone of voice sounds disinterested. You’d like to blame it on how tired he likely is from work, but you know he doesn’t care for Su-bong either, and would come up with anything to avoid seeing him. Sometimes, you’d like to agree that Su-bong can be a bit too much, but you were ready to put that aside for the sake of Halloween.

“I’m sure you’ll have more fun without me there,” Shota presses. “I’m tired, and wouldn’t be good company.”

“What am I without my Big Bad Wolf?”

It feels childish for you to guilt trip him like this, especially since it isn’t his fault that his flight is delayed. Still, you’re upset after you had been so excited for the weeks leading up to the party. And you hope that having Shota with you would calm the reawakened feelings for Su-bong.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Shota says, and his detached tone finally pushes you from disappointed to pissed off.

“Great,” you reply, flatly. “I’ll see later, I guess.”

You quickly hang up the call before he has the opportunity to say anything else. You clench your phone in your hand, willing it to break to get out your frustration, but you hear the crackling of Su-bong’s vape behind you, bringing you to your senses for a moment.

“He’s not coming?” You’d swear there was a brief flash of your old friend in the way he speaks, but it’s quickly overshadowed by Su-bong walking up behind you and leaning in towards your ear. “I know what will take your mind off of it,” he whispers. “Dancing. You used to love dancing…I bet Shooter doesn’t know the way you and I used to dance together.”

You picture the times you and Su-bong would hang out at clubs, drinking and dancing the night away. You were both fond of slow jams on nights where the drinks were plenty, and you would grind against Su-bong without a second thought. There were nights where you would feel him getting hard, and you were sure if he asked you to go home with him, you wouldn’t hesitate, but neither of you ever made the jump.

“C’mon, baby,” Su-bong smiles. “For old time’s sake.”

“Dancing sounds great,” you grit, turning abruptly to reenter the house, not waiting for Su-bong.

You shove through the crowd that fills the living room finding a spot where you can begin to sway on your own to the music. Su-bong slinks towards you, watching the way your body moves as if he’s fighting the urge to pounce on you. Your gaze finds him, inviting him closer towards you — he smirks and pulls the mask over his face. Su-bong creeps closer, catching you by your waist so he can keep your bodies close together as you both move to the music. You press your hands to his chest softly, trying to mostly avoid looking at Su-bong, though you‘re certain he’s locked onto you behind the eyes of the mask.

“I know you’re pissed at Shooter,” he says suddenly, his grip loose on your hips, but firm enough to keep you against him. “I know a way that we could really make him jealous. We could sneak up to my room and take a few pictures. I’ve got a king size bed.”

“It matches your king size attitude,” you retort, and you know it sounds stupid, but you have to say something so he doesn’t know the impact he’s beginning to have on you.

“A lot about me is king size, señorita,” Su-bong answers. “If you’d rather something more public, the sofa is right there and I’m sure the influencers would love a livestream opportunity. A little slut like you, ready to do anything to keep me happy, you’ll go viral in seconds.”

“You’re just full of ideas tonight,” you mutter, hoping he doesn’t notice the effect his words are having on you.

“You don’t remember that you told me all of this?” he smirks. “I’ve got a great memory.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been telling me for years about all the shit you’re into,” he says, pulling you by your hips so you’re snug against him. “How you love a man to be dominant, how you like being called names…how much you love Ghostface.” He laughs at the last part, lifting the mask from his face so you can see his eyes. “That’s only a few, but I remember everything you told me,” he smirks. “And I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to give you what you want.”

“Why?” you ask. “That’s uncharacteristically considerate of you.” Su-bong laughs, hitting his vape.

“I like a woman who isn’t afraid to get nasty for me.”

“Good to know it’s purely selfish.”

“Oh, do you need me to be more generous?” Su-bong asks, pulling his mask over his face again. “Do you need me to tell you how fucking hot you look tonight? And how I want to drag you up to my bedroom to fuck you until you’re screaming my name?”

“I have a boyfriend,” you say, maybe trying to convince yourself more than Su-bong.

“Shooter’s boring. I bet he doesn’t spank you. Remember when you told me how wet that gets you?”

The memories begin to flow into your mind again. You remember several nights with Su-bong where conversations drifted to sex. You always felt comfortable about the things you were into, and you didn’t mind sharing with your friend. Maybe there was a part of you that hoped one day he would take you in the ways you described, but he never did.

“You told me one time that you get turned on by being touched in public,” Su-bong interrupts your thoughts, his hand delving between your thighs.

“Su-bong,” you mutter, finding yourself trembling in anticipation, waiting to feel the material of his glove rubbing against you.

“Were you hoping to get fucked tonight? Is that why you wore this skirt and fucking thigh high stockings? And poor Shooter isn’t here to see it.” Su-bong slips two fingers past the side of your panties, touching your slick skin. “Or feel it,” he continues, dragging his gloved fingers through your folds, brushing over your clit. “Or…taste it.”

Su-bong begins to breathe a little harder, muffled against the mask. He bumps his head against yours, nuzzling so he can lean closer to your ear.

“I’ll bet you’d look really pretty in my bed…face down, ass up…dripping down your thighs and onto my designer sheets.”

“Jesus Christ,” you snap back to your senses and shove Su-bong away from you.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything else, knowing your voice won’t be strong enough to sound assertive. The first thing that comes to your mind is putting as much distance between yourself and Su-bong as you can before your self-restraint disappears entirely. Dropping your gaze to the ground, you shove through the crowd and make your way towards the bathroom.

Much to your annoyance, the small bathroom near the kitchen is occupied, so you quickly storm up the steps in hopes that one of the guest bathrooms is available. As you walk, you get the sense that you’re being watched, so you quicken your pace, slipping into the bathroom and slamming the door shut to engage the lock.

“Calm down,” you mutter quietly, stepping in front of the mirror to look at your reflection. “He’s just trying to fuck with your head. He’s an asshole.” You straighten out the tulle of your skirt and turn the taps on to splash some cool water on your face.

You should leave. That’s the best option at this point. Su-bong has worn down your resolve and you’re one dirty word away from falling into his bed. There’s no way you could do that to Shota because you care for him too much. Even with your current frustration towards him, he’s still your boyfriend and you’re not looking to cheat on him with one of your friends. That solves it: you’re going home.

When you open the door to exit the bathroom, your heart leaps into your throat at the sight of Ghostface bracing his hands on either side of the doorway. He tilts his head to the side, making it obvious that he’s sizing you up. You know that it’s Su-bong, but the sight excites you more than it rightfully should.

You shouldn’t play along; you should stick with your plan and just go home. But Shota never wants to play games like this. It took weeks of begging to get him to agree to the Big Bad Wolf costume, and he still managed to wiggle out of the obligation. Sometimes you wished he would like to have a little more fun. Sometimes you wish he was more like Su-bong.

You quickly try to close the bathroom door, but Su-bong shoves it open, forcing his way into the room with you. He locks the door, and spins back towards you, hoisting you up onto the counter. The way he cocks his head to the side, the empty black eyes of the mask hiding him from your view, it makes your stomach twist in an array of emotions — excitement and anticipation at the forefront, followed closely by embarrassment for how much this turns you on.

“Why’d you run away from me?” Su-bong’s voice, though muffled by the mask, is deep and dangerous. “Are you scared of me, baby?”

“No.” You try to sound firm and confident but even with one word, your voice falls short. You’re sure Su-bong smirks behind his mask.

“Then what is it? Is there something you’re hiding from me instead?”

You’re too caught up in the moment to notice that Su-bong removed his gloves until you feel his hands on your knees, spreading your thighs apart. As he slots between your legs, you look down at his hands, nails adorned with black polish, creeping under your skirt. When he touches your lacy panties, finding them soaked through, he shakes his head, tsking at you.

“Are you that fucking easy?” Su-bong asks, leaning closer towards you to press his masked face directly against your cheek. Your face heats up and tears sting at your eyes, finding yourself overwhelmed with arousal and a little bit of guilt. “You really do get off on this mask thing, don’t you? What is it? Does being afraid turn you on?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter, truly unsure of what you enjoy about this. He keeps his head against yours as his fingers twist the fabric of your panties so he can rip them.

“These will just slow us down, baby,” he breathes, as the lace tears in his grasp. You whine, your thighs tightening around his waist in pure instinct — with him pressed against you, the bulge in his jeans is obvious, pressing to your wetness with enough friction to make your body ache.

“Su-bong,” you whine, your voice so needy, and you’re sure that Su-bong grins in delight behind his mask. He pries your thighs away from his hips and gets on his knees on the floor, pushing the tulle of your skirt away so he can finish ripping your panties from you.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, angling his head towards you, eyes still hidden behind his mask. You don’t realize how hard your breaths are coming out at first, but then you can hear them, echoing in the confined space of the bathroom.

You shake your head, so slight it could have looked like a twitch, but Su-bong accepts this as the confirmation he was waiting for. His head moves closer between your thighs until you feel the curved edge of the mask’s nose drag over your clit. Your body lurches in surprise, already so on edge from just talking, and Su-bong chuckles between your legs.

“Easy, baby. Don’t get too excited.”

Su-bong’s hands splay across your inner thighs so he can part your fold with his thumbs. You hear him hum softly, almost an appreciative sound, something that comes deep from his chest. He brushes his thumb over your clit, looking up at you to watch your reaction — your hips edge forward, silently begging for more.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes on the counter at your side. Against the marble countertops, the sound is much louder, echoing through the small room.

“I’ll bet that’s Shooter,” Su-bong mutters, his finger now circling around your entrance. “He feels bad for leaving you all by yourself, Little Red. Out here, where anybody could just…eat you up.”

Su-bong pulls the mask to the top of his head again, and trails the tip of his tongue over your clit, so softly that he’s barely there. At the same time, he pushes his finger into you, to the first knuckle. You let out a groan, knocking your head back against the mirror, and Su-bong chuckles, amused by how twisted up you are from so little touching.

Your phone buzzes. It feels like it’s louder this time, or maybe it’s the way your head is reeling, you can’t be sure. Su-bong teases your clit with his tongue again, applying the same amount of pressure, quick and ghostlike. You moan louder, spreading your legs.

“Goddamn,” you groan while Su-bong pushes his finger a little deeper into you.

There’s a knock at the door, and someone says your name. Your eyes go wide when you realize it’s Shota. Su-bong laughs quietly, not stopping himself from fingering you slowly. You clamp your hand over your mouth to silence the moan that threatens at your throat, hoping that maybe Shota will leave. The doorknob rattles, and you feel the panic set in.

“Hey, babe, are you okay? Namgyu said he saw you come up here, and he thought you weren’t feeling well.” You shoot a glare at Su-bong to curse his friend for sending your boyfriend after you, but Su-bong only smirks, eyes on you as he leans in to tongue you again. “Babe?” Shota’s voice comes again and now your phone buzzing for a third time against the countertop definitely gives you away.

“Fuck,” you breathe against your hand, finally shoving Su-bong away by his shoulders, so he quietly tumbles to sit on the floor. He covers his mouth to laugh silently, while you attempt to straighten out your skirt. “Yeah, Shooter, I’m here,” you call out, watching Su-bong hit his vape. ”Gimme just a second.”

You gesture to the shower, directing Su-bong to hide so you can open the door, but he doesn’t move. You give him a pleading look, hoping that he won’t do anything stupid. Finally, he rolls his eyes and pulls his mask down again as he stands and climbs into the shower, out of view. You spare one more glance at your reflection, making sure you look presentable before you open the door to face your boyfriend.

“I thought you were stuck in Tokyo,” you say, flatly.

“I was trying to surprise you,” Shota says, his tone unconvincing, like he practiced what he wanted to say.

“Yeah, great surprise.” You push past Shota, pulling the door shut as you make your way down the hall. You want to find somewhere out of view of the bathroom to allow Su-bong the opportunity to sneak out without being seen by Shota, so you descend the steps and head to the kitchen.

“Babe,” Shota calls out, trying to be heard over the noise of the party, but you pretend you don’t hear him, grabbing a water from the fridge. “I’m sorry,” Shota says, once he reaches you.

“If you didn’t want to come to the party, Shota, you could have just said it.”

“Okay, I didn’t want to come,” he says. “You’re right. But I did show up. I’m here now.” You take a sip of your water, staring at Shota as you wait for him to continue. “I don’t like Thanos,” he groans. “He’s an asshole. I don’t know why you’re friends with him. I didn’t feel like coming all the way out here for his party.”

“It wasn’t for his party; it was for me.”

“I didn’t think of it—”

“So, you lied to me instead,” you respond. “Were you at my apartment, pretending you were still at the airport?” Shota glances around for a moment, as if he doesn’t want to tell you the truth even if you already figured it out. “You showed up now…without the costume—”

“I don’t like costumes,” he interrupts, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’d be less pissed off if you would have told me the truth,” you say, looking towards the partygoers to find Su-bong talking to a girl you’ve never seen before

“You’re right,” Shota says. “I shouldn’t have lied about it.”

Shota continues to talk but you’re too focused on Su-bong and this random girl. Why would he be flirting with some stranger when his head was just between your thighs? No, of course you know why he’s doing this — his ego. He needs to be the one in control of every situation.

You watch the way Su-bong leans in towards the girl, whispering something in her ear. As he speaks, she giggles and Su-bong’s eyes immediately find yours, like he could feel you staring. His gaze is devious, and you feel enveloped by it, stuck and you can’t look away; it’s like he’s daring you to do something. The girl keeps talking to Su-bong, just like Shota still talks to you but you are locked in with Su-bong, neither of you really listening to your conversations.

Su-bong takes a hit off of his vape, finally breaking eye contact with you so he can talk to the girl again, making her laugh immediately. You clench your jaw, wondering what he could have said that was so funny.

“Are you even listening to me?” Shota’s voice catches your attention again, and you sigh, looking back at him.

“Yeah, I heard you, Shota,” you lie. “Look…maybe you should go back to my place and sleep. You’ve been busy this week…you need to get some rest.”

You give him the opportunity to tell you to come with him. Maybe that’s what you need to make you snap out of this stupid trance that Su-bong has you in. But when Shota nods his head, running his hand through his hair, you know he won’t.

“Okay,” he says. “You’re probably right. Some rest could help. And I have that event in Hyōgo this weekend…” His tone almost sounds relieved.

“Then go,” you shrug. “I’ll see you later.”

Shota nods, leaning in to give you a kiss on the cheek before he turns away, taking his leave. On any other occasions, the simple kiss would be sweet, a tender sign of affection that he would frequently show you. But today, it stokes the flames already flickering inside of you.

“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise.” Su-bong managed to sneak up on you as you were watching Shota leave, and he now leans against the counter beside you. “I guess he wasn’t in Tokyo, huh?” You turn towards him, watching him take a long hit off of his vape, his expression more pleased than you think you’ve ever seen him. You find your gaze wandering to his mouth, watching the vapor billow from his lips. “What, do you want to kiss me or something?” He says it almost cruelly, like he’s mocking you for having the urge, but it’s all part of the game.

“No, but I’d like to slap you,” you retort.

“Mmm, I’d like that,” Su-bong chuckles, slipping behind you again. “What would it take to get you to choke me?” He reaches one hand past you to press against the edge of the countertop so he can block you against him. “What about you, baby?” he mumbles, his voice now muffled, as he likely pulled his mask over his face again. “Do you like to be choked, too?”

Before you can reply, you feel Su-bong’s hand pushing past the tulle of your skirt from behind, so you press your hands to the counter and widen your stance to give him access to you. He chuckles under the mask, pleased with how you’re reacting to him. As his middle finger pushes into your wetness, you sigh, your eyelids feeling heavy already from something so simple.

“Is this what you want?” Su-bong asks, teasing the pad of his finger over your clit, his body pressing against you. “For me to finger you in my kitchen while people watch?” Your eyes flutter open long enough to see some of the partygoers have caught on to your antics, whispering back and forth in amusement. Su-bong slips his finger inside of you, as deep as he can at this angle.

It does excite you: people watching you while you get touched by Su-bong in a Ghostface costume. You let your mind race with the thoughts of him bending you over the counter and fucking you in front of them, people pulling out their phones to record you. It overwhelms you — Shota would never touch you like this because he didn’t enjoy any public affection beyond a kiss.

“I can tell you like it,” Su-bong whispers. “You’re clenching around my finger like no one has ever touched you before. You’re so tight right now, I don’t know if you’re going to be able to handle what I’m going to do to you.”

“Fuck, Su-bong, please,” you gasp, dropping your gaze to the counter, unable to take the stares any longer. He pumps his finger into you a few times, agonizingly slow, deliberately teasing you.

“Please what? Tell me what you’re begging me for.”

“I fucking…” you gasp. “I need you to fuck me.”

“You need it, hm?” His tone is mocking, and you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t aching for him. “Jesus, I barely even touched you and you’re already this desperate. Go wait in my bedroom. I’ll be up there eventually.”

‘Eventually’ should have pissed you off. It should have reminded you that you have a boyfriend who wouldn’t talk to you like that. You should have shoved him away from you and slapped him like any respectable woman would. But this was part of the game — and you like it.

Walking proves to be more of a challenge than you anticipated. You’re unsteady on your feet, your platform heels complicating things further as you very carefully ascend the stairs towards Su-bong’s bedroom. You don’t dare look over your shoulder to see who is still watching — by now, the whole party knows Su-bong has you exactly where he wants you.

When you finally reach Su-bong's bedroom, you note the flooring is carpet, so you slip your heels off to set them in the hallway before you enter. You make your way towards his bed, and sit on the edge, unsure of what to do with yourself while you wait. To keep your hands occupied, even for a moment, you untie the ribbon of the sheer hood you wore over your hair, dropping it to the bed beside you.

The music from the party below is muffled, only the bass thumping through the floor, making the silence of the room feel much louder. The room smells like his cologne and laundry soap, with a small hint of the watermelon flavored vape he’d grown fond of lately. Your hands fiddle with the duvet beneath you, fingers stroking the fabric as your mind races.

You haven’t had any alcohol but you feel drunk from the way Su-bong spoke to you, the way he touched you. It boggles your mind that he paid so much attention to all of your kinks during the course of your friendship, a far more thoughtful decision than you thought he was capable of. You think of the times when you would tell Shota the things you wanted to do, and how uncomfortable he would appear. He is a more reserved person who never seems to do anything he feels is too kinky — asking him to pull your hair was too much for him. You would never pressure him, but you also always had a nagging desire in the back of your mind to have someone to give you everything you’re looking for. Though you never expected that person to be Su-bong.

“Dreaming about me?” Your attention falls to Su-bong who leans against the doorway of his bedroom, puffing on his vape with your heels clutched in his other hand. “I found these,” he says, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. “I don’t remember telling you to take them off.”

Su-bong still stands several feet away from you, so you cross to him to take your shoes and slip them back onto your feet. He nods towards his bed and you take the hint, listening to him take the steps to follow directly behind you. Just as you reach the bed, his hands grasp your hips from behind to stop you, and urge you to bend at the waist. You set your hands against the mattress to keep your balance, feeling your ass press against Su-bong.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Su-bong mutters. “Getting you exactly where I want you. Having you ready to do whatever I tell you to do. Thanos’ little slut.” You clench involuntarily, and you’re happy that he can’t feel it yet — it would be too embarrassing for him to know how much you liked what he said.

You feel a loss of contact as Su-bong takes a step back, lowering to his knees behind you. He removes his gloves and mask entirely, tossing them onto the bed beside you so he can bunch the tulle of your skirt around your waist. His hands rub over your ass, thumbs briefly spreading you open to see your hole; of course your body reacts, clenching in anticipation.

“Is that where you want me?” Su-bong laughs, teasing his thumb over you. “I don’t think you’re prepared for that, not tonight. Maybe if you’re good enough, I’ll get you some toys so we can get you ready to take me. How does that sound?” His voice is almost too calm, like he’s unaffected by what he’s promising you. When his hand comes down hard on your ass, you yelp, your fingers clenching the duvet and your knees buckling. “Answer me,” he commands. “Does that sound good?”

“Yes, it sounds really fucking good,” you breathe, nodding your head quickly.

“Good,” he responds, one hand slipping between your thighs so he can rub along your slit. “I can’t believe your stupid fucking boyfriend saw you dressed like this and left you here. If you were mine, strutting around in a dress this short…” He spanks you again, this time harder than before, and he strokes your clit at the same time. Your body trembles and you let out a needy whine, feeling yourself growing wetter at the contact. “…dripping like this,” he continues, teasing his finger around your entrance. “Fuck, that’s so hot. Does your boyfriend know how to get you this wet? I bet he doesn’t; he seems boring.”

Su-bong doesn’t wait for an answer before he slips two fingers inside you, pumping slowly and shallowly. You groan in your throat, your head dropping and your eyes closing, his slender fingers stretching your walls that have been aching for him all night.

Su-bong surprises you by leaving a bite on the back of your thigh, making you drop down to your elbows with a moan. You rest your knee on the edge of the bed now, hoping it will support you as your arms grow tired, but this also gives Su-bong more access to you, which he greedily accepts with a growl.

“Fuck, you taste like candy,” he mutters, pressing open mouth kisses against you, licking up what he can. “Perfect for Halloween.”

When Su-bong angles his head so he’s able to press his mouth to your clit, he begins sucking on it, sloppy and wet, practically moaning against you while still thrusting his fingers into you. You whine, much needier than you expect, rocking your hips against his face, desperately needing more friction. Su-bong’s free hand strokes up the back of your calf, tracing the fishnet material, until he reaches the back of your thigh. He squeezes hard and then gives another sharp slap to your ass, causing you to buck against his face.

“Su-bong,” you whine, listening to him laugh against you. “Please.”

“Mmm,” he hums, pulling back so he can leave another bite, this time on your inner thigh. “Are you begging me?”

“Yes, please.”

With another spank to your ass, making you feel how tender it’s become, Su-bong stands, checking to see that your gaze is on him from over your shoulder. He raises the front of his hoodie enough to access his belt, slowly pulling the leather from the buckle until it’s open. His fingers press to the button, flicking it open and then dragging down the zipper, agonizingly slow.

“Is this what you’re begging me for?” Su-bong asks, nodding his head downwards.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Come over here and get it.”

You move from the bed to the floor, resting your knees in front of him. You keep your eyes on him, giving as innocent a look as you can muster, while you slide your hand into his boxers to wrap your fingers around him.

“Fuck,” you mumble, when you slip him from his clothes.

You clench thinking about what he’ll feel like inside of you, his size much larger than what you’re used to. Of course, he smirks at your reaction, so self-satisfied that it almost makes you roll your eyes. You notice Su-bong slips his phone from his pocket, prepared to toss it onto the bed beside his mask and gloves, but he pauses, as if he’s thinking of something. A devious smirk begins to spread across his lips as he lifts his gaze to meet yours.

“Can I?”

It takes you a moment to understand what he’s suggesting, but your stomach twists into knots when you realize; he wants to record you. All you can do is nod, beginning to slowly stroke your hand over him — you don’t know if you could even form a clear sentence with how turned on you are. In response to your approval, Su-bong grins, snatching up his mask and slipping it over his face again.

When you chance a look at him, you watch him pull the hood over his head as well, his breaths heavy. Giving him an innocent look from underneath your eyelashes, you find him peering down at you from behind his mask, aiming the camera towards you. You can hear his breath muffled against the mask, steady but every so often a little shaky.

You take him into your mouth slowly, bobbing your head over him so that he’s halfway into your mouth with your hand stroking the rest of him. You feel a little shy on camera, like you forgot how to properly give head, but Su-bong softly presses his hand to the back of your head to urge you on.

“Can you take it deeper for me?” he asks, and you relax your jaw preparing to take more of him into your mouth. “I love how eager you are to please me, baby.”

The sentence would have been sweet if it wasn’t in the tone that Su-bong liked to use — that Thanos voice. It’s smug and egotistical, like he needs his inflated sense of self to be the first thing people notice about him; he’s proud of his ego and the way people feed into it. Right now, you’re more than happy to give him what he wants.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you gag but fight through it, keeping him still. Su-bong groans when he feels you struggling around him, the way you try to keep him even though he’s too big, it makes his cock twitch against your tongue. You pull back quicker than you would have liked, letting out a gasp but still taking care to stroke over him.

“It’s okay,” Su-bong says, wiping the tear from your eye with his thumb. “You’ve never had to suck a dick this big, have you, señorita?” You shake your head slowly, licking the head of his cock and swirling your tongue around to catch some of the precum that leaked out.

“I like how you taste,” you admit, your free hand slipping between your thighs to rub your clit. You take him back into your mouth bobbing your head over him faster, stroking to the base of his shaft.

“Are you touching yourself?” Su-bong asks, trying to angle the camera to get your whole body in the frame. “Did I tell you that you could do that?”

You whimper around him, your eyebrows furrowing because fuck, the deep, raspy tone of his voice shoots straight between your thighs. You’re sure if you could see his face, he would be smirking at you, knowing that he has you exactly where he wants you. After a few more bobs of your head, you take him deeper again, working over him faster and moaning quietly around him.

“Fuck, that feel so good” he grits, letting out a shuddered breath. “I’ll have to train you how to deepthroat and you’ll—Jesus, you’ll be perfect.” He sets his hand on the back of your head and guides you backwards so he drops from your mouth. “Take everything off except your stockings and heels,” he commands, stepping back with his camera still aimed towards you.

Standing to your feet, you decide to put on a show for him and his camera; you unfasten the button of your skirt and let it drop to pool around your feet. When you begin to unfasten the hooks at the front of your corset, Su-bong takes a step closer to you to get a better view with his camera. His free hand slowly strokes over himself, his breath heavy in the mask. When you drop the rest of your clothing to the floor, he gets one last look at you through the phone’s camera before he stops recording and tosses it to the bed.

“Lay on your back,” he directs. “Spread your legs. Let me see how wet your pussy is now that you got a taste of Thanos.” You hurry towards the bed, far more eager than you would normally like to be and you swear you can hear Su-bong laugh behind you. “Hungry little slut,” he mutters, entirely too amused.

You settle into the bed, dropping back onto your elbows so you can still watch him, spreading your legs like you were told to do. Su-bong slowly strokes over his erection for a moment before he tucks himself back into his boxers, to your disappointment.

“Now, don’t look so sad,” Su-bong mumbles, moving closer to the bed. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.” He slides the mask off of his face and drops it to the bed, taking a hit of his vape again. “On your back,” he says, more firmly. “Keep your eyes up.”

You find it an odd request but when you rest onto your back, you notice the oversized mirror on the ceiling above his bed. At any other time, you would roll your eyes and mock him for how ridiculous it seems. But you’re entranced, as through the reflection, you see Su-bong crawling onto the bed, pushing your legs even further apart to give him space.

“Have you always gotten wet for me?” Su-bong asks, kissing up your inner thigh.

“Mhm,” you hum, still watching him through the mirror, your hands fisting the duvet beneath you as he gets closer to where you need him most. “When we’d dance, I’d feel you getting hard…” You say it in hopes that you could bring him down to your level a bit, however, Su-bong has no shame, and he chuckles against your thigh, leaving a bite much harder than you expect.

“Yeah, because I knew you would have fucked me at the club if I asked you,” he mutters, his tongue teasing over your clit. You moan softly, pressing one hand to the back of his head and urging him to continue — of course he lets out an amused breath of a laugh, but obliges.

Su-bong doesn’t waste time going slow; he begins to suck on your clit immediately, his fingers joining his mouth between your legs but circling your slick entrance. You nudge your hips against his face, begging him to get on with it, because you’re desperate to get off. Su-bong eases two fingers inside of you, thrusting at a steady pace but now beginning to tongue your clit, panting against you.

“Fuck, Thanos.”

You don’t mean to say it. Truth be told, you don’t even realize that you said it until Su-bong growls against you and hooks his free arm under your thigh to pin you against his face. He sucks on your clit again, his fingers thrusting faster, pushing you faster to your orgasm. You thread your fingers through his hair to give you some leverage to work your hips against.

“I’m gonna come, Thanos,” you moan, testing his nickname again in hopes that he can go even faster.

“Mhm,” he hums against you, giving you what you need.

The sloppy sound of his fingers pumping and his mouth sucking becomes the only thing you can focus on, chasing your orgasm. You claw at the back of his hoodie with your free hand, watching through the mirror so you can see yourself losing control. When his fingers curl inside of you, pumping harder, hitting that spot that’s been neglected for so long, you let out a broken moan, needy and cheap enough that you’d blush if you heard it from outside. Su-bong’s grip on your thigh begins to hurt, and you know he’ll leave bruises but the pain only gives you the push you need to reach your climax.

Your thighs tighten around his head, and you feel him moan hard against you in response, still working you through your climax. You arch from the bed, pressing yourself against him more firmly to feel every bit of your orgasm. The way Su-bong’s fingers thrust into you still, fast and hard, make your legs quake along with the motions. Each time you make contact, you become more aware of how sore you’re going to be already.

You feel him in every inch of your body, shockwaves rolling all the way through to your limbs. With Su-bong working you at the same pace, you feel yourself hurtling towards another climax that you’re not ready for. Everything begins to feel like it’s blurring and you’re worried you could pass out from overstimulation, the intensity of your first orgasm much greater than you expected. Your hands press to his shoulders, the bottoms of your heels dig into his sides, trying to push him away as you find your words.

“F-fuck, wait,” you stutter out, tears beginning to form in your eyes. Su-bong slows to a stop and lifts his gaze to meet yours, a brief flash of concern in his eyes. “I’m okay,” you pant, covering your face with your hands. “Just gimme a second.”

“That wasn’t even my best work. You must have really needed that.”

You’d laugh if you could because he’s not wrong. Shota rarely takes care of your needs; you blame it on a number of factors, like his busy schedule, your distance from one another, and how exhausted he gets from work. You don’t think he does it on purpose, but no, you can’t keep thinking about Shota when Su-bong rolls onto his back and rests his head on your thigh, watching you through the mirror as he takes another hit from his vape.

Something hits you at this moment: you haven’t kissed him yet. You wonder if it’s intentional, and maybe it’s too intimate for what you’re doing, too tender. But you watch his mouth on his vape, the way he licks his lips after he exhales the vapor…and you want to know what it feels like to be kissed by him.

“What is it?” Su-bong asks, staring at you through the mirror. “Had enough?”

“Just thinking.”

“Ah, you think too much,” he waves his hand dismissively. “You could afford to spend some time feeling instead. Get out of your head every once and a while.”

You stare at him for another moment before shoving him off of you and crawling on top of him, straddling his waist. His expression is overjoyed and diabolical at the same time, so you knock his vape from his hand so it clatters to the floor. When his eyebrows crease and his lips part, presumably to complain, you grab handfuls of his hoodie and plant a hard kiss on his lips. He groans, his hands setting on your hips so he can dig his fingers into your skin.

“I could tell you wanted to kiss me,” he mutters against your lips. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You break from the kiss completely, pressing your hands flat against his chest and grinding yourself against his cock through his jeans. He pulls in a sharp breath, then lands a quick slap on your ass while his other hand is still holding your hip.

Your hand slips between your bodies, working his cock free from his boxers again. You guide it along your slit, making sure he’s covered with your juices before finally you ease him inside of you. The moan you let out was pathetic, but he stretches you more than you expect, a distinct pain radiating through your walls.

Su-bong doesn’t say anything apart from a muttered swear once you’ve settled onto him completely, but when his eyes meet yours, you can tell he’s checking in to make sure you’re okay. You give him a small nod, and start to rock yourself on his lap, slow enough to get used to the pain. Su-bong nods, biting his lip as he lets out a satisfied groan.

Desperate to get your hands on him, you drag the zipper of his hoodie down, and he takes the hint, sitting up to remove it the rest of the way. Once his hoodie is on the floor, one of your hands gently grasps his throat, watching for his reaction. His tongue slips from his mouth, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth with a nod of his head. Your grip tightens on him,watching the way his eyes slip closed while you still ride him slowly.

“Fuck,” he grinds out, holding your thighs firmly, adding to the litany of marks he’s left on you already. “Harder.”

“Of course you like getting choked,” you tease, tightening your grip on his throat. You lean over him, planting a quick kiss on his lips, before whispering in his ear, “Are you going to choke me, too?”

Su-bong lets out a strangled grunt, and you release your grip on him, letting him pull in a few breaths. He thrusts up, plowing himself deeper inside of you so that you let out a yelp against his neck. You claim his neck with your mouth, sucking and kissing to leave your mark on him, Su-bong murmurs your name in a tone that makes your walls clench around his cock, riding him faster now.

“Why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me?” he asks, nudging your head softly with his to get your attention.

“No, I want to be on top.”

You’re testing the waters. You want to see if he likes a brat — well, maybe not completely bratty, but a little defiant. Both of Su-bong’s arms wrap around your waist, holding your body flush against his so you can’t move. You lift your head from his neck, and peer into his eyes to find them darkened, albeit a little amused.

“Who’s in charge?” he asks, quietly. You don’t answer immediately, so he spanks you hard enough to make you whine and clench around him again. “Answer me,” he asks, his voice raspier now, more insistent.

“You are,” you reply, licking your lips, unable to hide your excitement at the way he speaks to you. A smirk spreads across his lips and he kisses you, hard and rough, like he wants to claim his property. When he breaks from the kiss, you risk giving an extra bite to his bottom lip, a move that earns a growl from Su-bong.

“Get on your knees.”

You finally do as you're told, hurrying off of him so you can rest on your hands and knees facing the head of the bed. He settles onto his knees behind you, hand rubbing soothingly over your backside for a moment. You rest onto your forearms, arching your back to press yourself against him, trying to entice him to continue.

Su-bong chuckles at your eagerness, pressing his hand against your lower back as he guides himself back into you. He lets out a raspy groan, burying inside of you to the hilt and remaining still for a moment. You can hear that he’s fumbling with something so you glance over your shoulder to see him slipping his mask back onto his face.

“I’m so glad Shooter left you here for me,” he laughs, gently rocking his hips against you. “I’m going to make you mine now.”

Su-bong reaches past you to prop his phone against the pillows, pressing record when he’s sure that you’re both in the frame. He sits upright again, grabbing your hip with one hand while the other holds the hem of his shirt out of the way so he’s able to watch between your bodies as he fucks into you. You watch him through the screen of the phone, and you can’t fight the climax that starts to build inside of you at the sight of him in his Ghostface mask.

“That boyfriend of yours…he can’t do it like this, can he?”

“No,” you whine, your eyes slipping closed.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” Su-bong says, spanking you hard enough to make you moan. Your eyes flutter open so you can see him on the phone screen again. “Does your little boyfriend fuck you this good?”

“He can’t fuck me like you can,” you whimper, shaking your head. “Fuck, you’re so big.” You let out a staggered groan, your eyes slipping closed so you can focus on pushing yourself back against his thrusts.

“Yeah? You’re not used to something this big, are you?”

“No, no one has ever fucked me this deep, or stretched me like this. You’re gonna make me come, baby; please, don’t stop.”

“C’mere,” Su-bong mumbles, grabbing your shoulder so he can pull you towards him, pressing his chest against your back. “Are you going to come for me?” he whispers, his voice muffled, but the heat of his breath resonating from behind the mask’s rubber edges. “Is your pussy leaking down your thighs because this is the best you’ve ever had?”

“Mhm,” you whine, grabbing one of his hands to drag it towards your throat.

“Dirty little slut,” he chuckles, wrapping his slender fingers around your throat and squeezing just enough to make it difficult for you to pull in a breath.

“Choke me,” you beg, as Su-bong continues to thrust against you.

Su-bong grips you more firmly, cutting off your oxygen and you instinctively try to take a breath, but find yourself unable to. He fucks you harder, hitting you at a different angle with your bodies pressed together like this. You reach over your shoulder, pushing his mask off of his face, letting it fall to the floor. You scrape your nails over his scalp before threading your fingers through his hair, listening to him let out a growl.

“You should see how sexy you look,” he whispers. “You’ve got a boyfriend but you’re riding my dick like you fucking own it. What would people think if they saw how fucking nasty you’re acting for me?” You dig your nails into his forearm, and he takes the hint, loosening his grip so you can pull in a breath. “Good girl,” he soothes, wrapping his arms around your body to hold you still while he trusts.

“Fuck, choke me again.”

“You want to come with my hand on your throat?”

“Mhm, please,” you beg, nodding furiously.

Su-bong places his hand on your throat again, squeezing immediately so you’re unable to breathe. Your jaw is slack, eyes closed, your hips trying to circle against Su-bong’s hard thrusts. He presses a kiss to your shoulder before he bites down to muffle his moan.

“Your pussy is so fucking tight, baby,” he mutters against your skin. “I’ve never had pussy this good in my life.”

You would moan if you had the air, but Su-bong’s fingers dig into your throat hard enough to cut your breathing off entirely. The sensations become overwhelming: Su-bong panting and moaning against your shoulder, the bed creaking softly beneath you, the bass rumbling from the floor below, your inability to breathe — it pushes you headfirst into your second climax of the night.

Su-bong releases his grip on your throat, allowing you to pull in a shuddered breath that quickly turns into a ragged moan. Your moans are strangled and desperate, your body quivering against Su-bong’s, fingernails dragging along the length of his arm and digging in.

“Fuck,” he hisses, still thrusting as you struggle to pull away from him, far too overstimulated. Su-bong laughs breathlessly, letting you go so that you drop back onto your stomach, with him pressed against your back. “Jesus,” he mutters, kissing along your shoulder. “You almost made me come.”

“Wouldn’t make us even,” you rasp.

“Oh, yeah?” Su-bong chuckles, grabbing his phone to stop the recording.

“Mhm,” you hum, nudging him off of you. He rolls onto his back with a grunt, his hand giving a lazy stroke over his length. “What’s wrong?” you ask, rolling onto your side and watching him carefully. “Are you too tired now?”

“You need Thanos to give you another one, señorita?” he grins, licking your slick from his fingers. You roll closer to him, taking hold of his wrist and pulling his hand towards you so you can finish cleaning his hand.

“I want you to ruin me for anyone else,” you mutter. “I want you to make it where I can’t think of you without my pussy getting wet.” Su-bong stares at you for a moment, mesmerized. You wonder if you’ve gone too far but he leans towards you and kisses you deeply, his hand resting underneath your chin to keep you in place.

“On your back,” he mumbles against your lips. “I’ll give you what you want, my girl.”

You roll onto your back, spreading your legs, inviting him over. The grin on Su-bong’s face is clear as he kneels between your thighs, tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the ground before pushing himself back inside of you. He presses his hands to your inner thighs, pinning your legs down to the spread wide open for him. Su-bong presses his weight against your thighs to brace himself as he fucks into you, a steady pace, but hitting deep inside of you with each thrust. Your moans become needier, cheap, decorum long thrown out the window — it’s only you and Su-bong, and his thrusts grow faster.

“You were made to have me inside you,” he mumbles, rolling his head back as his thrusts get sloppier. “I can’t wait…to see you covered in me.”

“You’re gonna come all over me?” you whine, clenching at the thought and Su-bong’s hips stutter in response. “Fuck, I’m gonna come again,” you groan, exhausted feeling the tightening in your worn out muscles. “Oh, my God, Su-bong, don’t stop!”

Your words start to jumble, your mind going blank as another climax hits your drained body. This time, it makes you tremble down to your feet, your knees pulling in around his waist of their own accord. You moan out his name, your hands clawing at his back in desperation, operating entirely on instinct.

It only takes a few more strokes of his hips before Su-bong pulls out of you as he jerks his hand quickly over his length, groaning your name over and over mixed with mutters of praise for you. As he comes, he drops his head back and lets out a loud moan into the air, echoing off the walls of his room. He finishes on your stomach and chest, panting and growling as he does.

“Fuck,” he breathes, feeling blindly at his side for his phone.

Su-bong aims the camera at you, trailing his fingers through his cum, gathering just enough to coat his fingers. He brings his hand between your thighs, pushing his fingers inside of your tender entrance. You whimper, needy and almost pleading with him because you won’t be able to handle another orgasm. Su-bong laughs breathlessly, recording as he gives two shallow pumps of his fingers before removing them altogether.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, and you do as you’re told. You stick your tongue out to allow him to slip his fingers into your mouth, aiming the camera at your face to film your response. You suck his fingers clean, looking beyond the phone this time, and instead into Su-bong’s face.

When he retracts his hand, he stops filming you, tossing the phone onto the bed beside you. He struggles for a moment to maneuver off of the side of the bed, nearly stumbling to the floor on his shaky legs.

“Jesus,” Su-bong breathes out, rubbing his hand over his face as he finally climbs from the bed and heads towards his bathroom. You lay splayed out on the bed, eyes closed, trying to catch your breath, completely fucked out.

You’re sure it was the best sex you’ve ever had. It was everything you’ve never gotten from partners in the past, especially Shota.

Oh, fuck — what are you going to tell Shota?

“You okay?” Su-bong’s voice pulls you back to reality, and you open your eyes to see him standing in the doorway of his bathroom, fastening his belt. He smiles, softer than he had all night, and you see shades of your friend again.

“Yeah,” you rasp, returning the smile.

“I turned the shower on,” Su-bong says, gesturing behind him into the bathroom then pointing across the room to a door. “There are shirts and boxers in the closet — you can wear whatever you want.”

“Where are you going?” You embarrass yourself with the way it sounds: needy and soft. After what the two of you just did, it feels out of place. Su-bong laughs, picking his vape from the floor and taking a hit as he walks closer to the bed.

“Why, you gonna miss me?”

“Not at all,” you quip, as Su-bong gently lifts your legs one at a time to slip your shoes from your feet, letting them clatter to the floor.

“Well,” Su-bong hums, his eyes scanning over your body. “I think Shooter is going to suspect something when he sees what I did to you.”

You don’t bother to look, knowing that you’re likely littered with bruises, bites all over your inner thighs, and your ass red with Su-bong’s hand print. You instead keep your eyes on Su-bong, noticing the mark you left on his neck; it makes you grin knowing that he let the Thanos facade slip just a bit for you.

“You can stay in here tonight,” he says, picking his shirt off of the floor and tugging it over his head. “I’ll clear the party out and come back in a little while.”

“What, are you going to come back to cuddle or something?” You say it to mock him gently in the way that he does to you, keeping in line with how most of your conversations go. But there’s a part of you that wants him to be soft to you — needs to feel him holding you. Su-bong smirks, pulling a lollipop from his pocket and slowly peeling the wrapper off.

“Is that what you want me to do?” he asks, still managing to make his voice sound cocky even while talking about something gentle. “Hold you and kiss you like I’m your boyfriend or something?”

“I guess it would be okay,” you reply, a faint smile on your lips. Su-bong slips the lollipop in his mouth, nodding his head.

“Then don’t worry about putting any clothes on when you get out of the shower,” he says, walking towards the bed. “I’d rather you sleep naked.”

He places one knee on the bed so he can lean over you, pressing his hands to the mattress on either side of your body. For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, simply stares into your eyes — his gaze is softer than you expect but he still hides some mischief behind the gentleness.

Su-bong pulls the lollipop from his mouth and licks his lips, dripping his head down to kiss you. It’s not soft like you’d expect after the way he was looking at you, but it isn’t rough either. He kisses you like he may not have another chance, deep and passionate so you can taste yourself on his tongue, mixing with the sweet raspberry flavor of the lollipop.

You feel like you could stay there forever, like this is where you belong: kissing Su-bong after he fulfilled almost every single desire you’ve ever had. Your body still trembles softly from the intensity of your interaction with him, goosebumps breaking out over your body. But your mind flashes to Shota, at your apartment wondering where you are. You feel shame start to wash over you, your thoughts beginning to push away the aftershocks of your multiple orgasms.

“Mmm,” he hums, breaking from the kiss to lock eyes with you again. “I can feel that you’re thinking too much.”

“What am I supposed to tell Shooter?”

“Whatever you want,” Su-bong replies, with a shrug. “Here, this will give you something to play with while I’m gone.”

Su-bong holds the sucker between his teeth by the stick, bracing himself above you with his hands against the mattress. He leans down enough for the candy to be just an inch from your lips so you lock eyes with him as you stick your tongue out and lick the sweet. The expression in his eyes is elated, like it won’t take much for him to be ready for round two. Though the thought of fucking Su-bong for the rest of the night makes your heart leap into your throat, your body is far too exhausted to do anything else tonight. You take the sucker into your mouth and Su-bong releases the stick from between his teeth.

“Just break up with him,” Su-bong says, standing from the bed and picking up his hoodie to pull it on again. “It’s never going to get better than where it is right now.” He spares one more glance towards you, a self-satisfied smirk spreading across his lips. “But us?” he says, gesturing between himself and you. “We haven’t even scratched the surface, my girl.”

#this is too good #omg omg omg #beatiful

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

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Can u please write abt Kim Seo-wan comforting reader who is dealing w body image dysmorphia <3

surely

You don’t realize how long you’ve been staring at yourself in the mirror until your vision blurs. Your hands are clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fight the urge to pick apart every little thing you see.

Too big. Too small. Too uneven. Too much.

A sigh escapes you, heavy and exhausted. You know this is your mind playing tricks on you, but that doesn’t make it any easier. The frustration coils in your chest, suffocating. You don’t hear Seo-Won come in until his reflection appears behind you, his expression soft yet concerned. He says nothing at first, just watching you through the mirror before stepping closer.

His arms wrap around you from behind, a gentle yet grounding weight. “You’re doing it again,” he murmurs, voice warm and understanding.

You exhale shakily, lowering your gaze. “I… I can’t stop. I don’t like what I see.”

Seo-Won doesn’t argue or tell you that you’re wrong—not in the way others might. Instead, he rests his chin on your shoulder and speaks in that slow, thoughtful way of his.

“I know it feels real,” he says quietly. “And I know it hurts. But what if, just for a second, you tried to see yourself the way I do?”

You close your eyes. “How do you see me?”

Seo-Won hums, his hold on you tightening. “I see someone strong. Someone kind. Someone who makes me laugh even when I think I can’t. I see the person who holds my hand when my own thoughts get too loud.” He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I see someone beautiful, inside and out.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you shake your head slightly. “But—” “No buts,” he interrupts gently, turning you around so you’re facing him instead of the mirror. His hands cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the dampness gathering beneath your lashes. “You don’t have to love what you see all the time. But I hope you can be gentle with yourself, even on the hard days.”

His gaze is so full of warmth, so unwavering, that the tightness in your chest eases just a little. You nod slowly, leaning into his touch. “I’ll try.” Seo-Won smiles, pressing his forehead to yours. “That’s all I ask.”

And for now, that’s enough.

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

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if anyone’s curious hehe >:)

Get to know me — template from @questionslisting

1. Name

2. Age

3. City that you live in

4. What do most people not know about you?

5. What do most people know you for?

6. Hobbies

7. What are your passions?

8. What do you search for in a significant other?

7. What are you most proud of?

8. When was the last time you had a significant conversation with someone you love?

9. Have you ever collected anything? What was it?

10. List 10 things off of your bucket list.

11. What was the last thing you learned?

12. How many relationships have you been in?

13. Turn ons

14. Turn offs

15. Favorite food

16. Favorite drink

17. What is the best birthday gift you have ever received?

18. Are you optimistic or pessimistic?

19. Do you sleep during class?

20. What is the most expensive thing you own?

21. What is the cheapest yet most useful thing you own?

22. How many times a day on average do you check your phone?

23. Text or call?

24. Opinion on long distance?

25. What is your definition of success?

26. Favorite song?

27. Favorite artist?

28. Celebrity crush/crushes?

29. When was the last time you read for fun?

30. Favorite flower?

31. What is the best gift you could receive right now?

32. Any guilty pleasures?

33. What is one thing you would like to change about yourself?

34. What do you search for in a friend?

35. How many times have you said "I love you" in the past month?

36. Where did you last go other than your room/home?

37. Why do bad things happen to good people?

38. In your opinion, what hurts more? Being left out or being stabbed in the eye?

39. How many green shirts do you own?

40. Do you like anime?

41. What do you invest the most time in?

42. What was the name of the last book you read?

43. What's the difference between loving and liking someone?

44. Where are you most productive?

45. List 3 things you enjoy doing with friends.

46. List 3 things you enjoy doing alone.

47. Do you believe world peace will ever exist?

48. Do you have any allergies?

49. When was the last time you cussed at someone?

50. What was the last promise you made?

51. What was your last dream about?

52. If you won a trip to Hawaii and you could take 5 people with you, who would those 5 people be?

53. How many countries have you visited?

54. What is your favorite medium of art? (Music, dance, painting, etc.)

56. When was the last time somebody complimented you?

56. If you switched bodies with someone, how would you recognize yourself?

57. Do you consider yourself mature?

58. How many days in your life do you think you have wasted on tumblr?

59. What is your favorite quote?

60. If you started a new religion and you had to create 3 rules or commandments for your new followers to live by, what would those 3 rules be?

61. What is your greatest accomplishment?

62. Do you believe in the death penalty?

63. What are your goals for life?

64. What do you think your soulmate is doing right now?

65. If you could live anywhere, where would you live? The place can be in an imaginary, fantasy, or the real world.

66. What were you like in 2013?

67. Do you have a job?

68. Tell us a story about your childhood best friend.

69. If you could change one thing about society, what would it be?

70. How many all-nighters have you pulled before?

71. Is tumblr your favorite website? If not, then what is your favorite website?

72. What is the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars?

73. Does money equal happiness?

74. How many times have you experienced true happiness in your lifetime?

75. How many times have you experienced true sadness in your lifetime?

76. What is the funniest joke you have ever been told?

77. When was the last time you looked at the news?

78. If you could say one thing to the world, what would you say?

79. What is your favorite animal?

80. If you could earn a million dollars by pretending to be dead for 3 years, would you do it?

81. What is one thing that everyone is bad at?

82. What time do you normally sleep? How many hours of sleep do you usually get?

83. Does age necessarily equal maturity?

84. What is your favorite clothing store?

85. In the winter- beanies or gloves?

86. Would you rather have wings or a fish tail?

87. If you had the power to erase one person from the world so that nobody remembered him or her except you, would you do it?

88. What do you fear the most?

89. How many digits of pi can you recite?

90. If you could travel back to one year and relive it again, which year would it be?

91. Describe yourself in one word.

92. Describe your last victory.

93. What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen?

94. What is something you will never forget?

95. Would you rather forget all of the past or remember everything in vivid detail?

96. Have you ever broken a bone before?

97. Is it harder to love or to hate somebody?

98. Coffee or tea?

99. What are some little things that you do that have changed your life in a positive way?

100. How many hours have you spend on tumblr today?

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

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──𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐓 : choi ‘thanos’ su-bong / player 230

contents: minors & ageless blogs dni, established relationship, possibly grammar/spelling errors

pairings: thanos x fem!reader

words: 1.8k approx.

aftercare: while sober, he’ll just throw a blanket over you, or occasionally hand you the tv remote, but other than that, he typically passes out after you two have sex, leaving you to fend for yourself.

if he’s still high, thanos tends to be a lot softer towards you, and will hold you against his chest while the two of you lay in bed covered in sweat.

body part: being the cocky man that he is, it’d come as a shocker if there wasn’t an inch of his body that he didn’t like, though if he had to choose, he’d either say his hands as he thinks they look cool, or his dick for obvious reasons.

the same goes when it comes to you, he loves every part of you, but he has a preference for your tits, and back—he loves to snort lines off of it while he’s fucking you from behind.

cum: if you don’t let him cum inside you, he’ll usually do it on your stomach or chest, whichever ones more convenient. he finds the sight of any part of your body covered in his cum to be extremely hot, and it definitely plays into his more possessive nature.

dirty secret: he’d never say it out loud, but he thinks it’d be hot to watch you and se-mi go at it. though, a secret he might be more open about is that he wouldn’t mind having a threesome with you and nam-gyu either.

experience: despite what he claims, he’s only had sex with a few other people before you during his time spent at club pentagon. he usually doesn’t go for the girls there, as he considers the majority of them to be “cheap” and unworthy of his time. but, he makes sure to make it seem like he’s experienced, and it’s definitely convincing. even though most of his knowledge comes from watching pornos, he’s skilled with his body.

favorite position: he’s a big fan of doggy style, because he loves pulling on your hair like a leash and the way you clench down on him when he does it. in this position, he’s can grab your ass at any given moment, and even snort lines off your back if he feels like it.

he also likes missionary, because it allows him to see your fucked-out expressions as he slams into you, the pretty tears that cascade down your cheeks, and the way your lip quivers as you try and hold back your moans to no avail. missionary also allows him to watch your pretty tits bounce, and stare at the bulge in your stomach each time he buries himself into you.

goofy: he’s definitely very goofy during sex, especially when he’s stoned. he keeps his laidback demeanor even during fun time, and will most definitely crack a few jokes here and there. he views sex as a way to unwind and make each other feel good, so he doesn’t see the point in being all uptight about it.

though, there is times when he comes home upset and will relieve his pent-up frustration on your body, which is one of the few times where he’ll be more serious during sex, as he’s too busy roughly pounding his cock into your pussy to crack any jokes—and because he’s just upset in general.

hair: he’s has an average amount of pubic hair and makes sure to keep it clean, but won’t go out of his way to make it look nice. he doesn’t really see the point in shaving too much, as body hair is natural (and he also finds it a hassle). though he might shave if you ask, or if it gets too messy, but other than that, he prefers to just let it be.

intimacy: he’s initially not much of a ‘sappy’ guy, and at first he’s definitely distant—he just wants to get off. though, he will definitely groan into your ear about how attractive he finds you, and he’ll praise you on how well you’re taking his cock. further into your relationship, he definitely softens up, and will often tell you how much he loves you while he’s balls-deep in you.

jack off: before meeting you, he probably jerked off a fair amount—maybe a bit more than average—but now he doesn’t see the need to, since he can just ask you for the real thing. though he does find himself a little disappointed whenever you aren’t around and he has to get off by himself. this goes without saying, but he usually will watch porn while jerking off. he’s also definitely the type of guy to ask you for nudes at like 3 in the morning so that he can jerk off to you.

kinks: he loves hair pulling—both giving and receiving. if he’s taking you from behind, he’ll grab on your hair a lot. it also turns him on when he’s eating you out and you pull on his hair, or guide him down to wear you want him.

dacryphillia is also a big kink for him. more specifically, thanos loves seeing your tear-stained face—especially the sight of your makeup all ruined— and your cock-drunken expression as he pounds into you. something about the sight of you completely ruined on his cock really gets him going.

location: he will honestly do it almost anywhere so long as you guys can be somewhat hidden—he won’t let just anyone see his girl all exposed. no, that’s a sight for his eyes and his eyes only (with the few exceptions of his close friends).

motivation: just about anything you do could have him pop a boner, but a few things that really turn him on is when you wear revealing outfits around him—specifically mini skirts—since you’re practically begging for him to take you right there and then, or when you let him leave hickeys all over your body. the sight of you all marked up by him, letting everyone knowing you’re his, is enough to have his dick rock-hard

no: he’s a fairly open-minded guy, and there’s few things he won’t do, and even fewer things you do that could possibly turn him off. he thinks you’re the most attractive person on the planet, and almost nothing will deter him from having what’s his. that being said, he’s not a big fan of subbing, as he prefers to be in control. he wants to be the one whose responsible for all your pleasure.

oral: thanos is most definitely more of a receiver, but can you really blame him when your mouth feels so good around his cock, or how hot you sound gagging on him. it drives him insane when your teeth lightly graze his cock. he’s not afraid to be selfish when it comes to you, not when you’re already offering yourself to him.

though there are some occasions when he’s wants nothing more than to feel your thighs clamped around his head as he tongue-fucks your pretty pussy.

pace: he’s more of a rough and fast type of guy, the type that will pound his cock into you like there’s no tomorrow, and will have you cumming on his cock as soon as possible. he’s especially rough when he’s high on drugs, and everything around him seems to speed up.

quickies: while he wants to be able to take his time with making the two of you feel as good as possible, he doesn’t mind quickies as there are some times where he really needs to get off, even if it’s a bit unconventional.

risk: as previously stated, he’s a very open-minded guy, and is willing to try new things. that ties into his willingness to fuck you in possibly risky places, and it turns him on all the more. he loves the feeling of being on edge, the knowledge that anyone could walk in on the two of you and see him slamming his dick into you.

stamina: he has a good amount of stamina, and if he decides to pop a pill before hand, he can go a lot longer. he can last a couple rounds at best, and makes sure to have you cum on his fingers or tongue at least once beforehand.

toys: he probably owns a fleshlight for when you’re away and his hand isn’t doing the job. when it comes to using them on you, it could go either way. depending on his mood, he loves to edge you with one until your begging for him to let you cum, and other times he prefers to make you cum on his fingers—in fact he might even get a little jealous of the toy, since surely he can make you feel better than a dumb piece of plastic.

unfair: definitely teases you a lot, in fact he gets off on seeing how desperate you are for him. whether it be him making you get down on your knees and pathetically beg for his cock or edging you for what seems like hours, he’s a huge tease. he’ll smirk at your fucked-out face afterwards, and point out how messy you are—though he finds that part of you hot too.

volume: he’s very vocal during sex, and will let you know that you’re making him feel good. you’ll mostly hear rough groans from him, and some occasional grunting noises. he’ll groan the nastiest shit into your ear, and if he’s feeling mean he’ll call you all sorts of degrading names, and remind you about who you belong to.

wild card: he loves to snort lines off your body, and will often have you cockwarm him while he huffs a line off your back. overall he’s just a big fan of sex while he’s stoned, as it heightens the stimulation for him.

x-ray: when it comes to length, he’s average, but he’s definitely pretty girth-y and it’s always a struggle to fit it inside your cunt. he has a couple visible veins, and the most prominent one runs along the underside of his cock. when hard, his tip flushes an angry red tone.

yearning: he’s got a pretty high sex drive. this man is ready to fuck you whenever, and almost anything you do could turn him on. it’s hard for him not to want to fuck you when you’re always so pretty for him, even if you’re not trying.

zzz: one word, and that’s fast. he passes out almost immediately afterwards, and he’s a heavy sleeper so good luck trying to get him to wake up.

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

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is this heaven???? This might be the best fanfic I've seen

SOMETHING REAL || Choi Seunghyun (T.O.P)

summary: you never expected him to matter this much. at first, seunghyun is just the annoying guy from class—the one who gets under your skin without even trying. but somehow, he becomes your best friend, the one who listens when no one else does. you both have your own lives, your own relationships. it’s never supposed to be more than that. but then the way he looks at you lingers a little too long, his touch starts to feel like something you don’t want to live without. and when love starts to feel like loneliness, he’s there. what if he was the right one all along?

warnings/this story contains: (reader discretion is advised), seunghyun and the reader are both in their early twenties, slowburn, enemies to friends to enemies (?) to friends to lovers (lmao help), smut (oral sex (f receiving), p in v, dry humping, fingering, slight overstimulation, praising, lowkey rough sex), seunghyun and the reader struggle with insecurities, mentions of cheating, emotional cheating, mild angst (miscommunication, heartbreak, ghosting, lies, bickering), fluff (toward the end, seunghyun’s down BAD), a loooot of artsy talk and an insane amount of yearning.

a/n: this is an au! seunghyun’s not an idol and he was born in the early 2000’s. this is loosely based on real events (my life, lmao), some stuff has been altered for artistic reasons and to fit seunghyun’s persona. enjoy this fragment that i couldn’t resist sharing, because it’s the most bookish thing that’s ever happened to me—basically the closest i’ve ever been to feeling like the main character. help. anyway! english isn’t my first language so mistakes should be present!! lower case is intended. reader’s dialogue is in bold. mind you, like always, this is LOOONG (it’s a whole fic)

songs: i love my boyfriend — princess chelsea || delicate — taylor swift || sure thing — miguel

three minutes. that’s exactly the time you have left before your next class starts. you’re walking briskly across campus, your coffee in one hand, your backpack slung over one shoulder, trying to make sure you don’t arrive late (again…). but then, out of nowhere, someone bumps into you. it’s not even a light brush—it’s a full-on collision that sends the hot coffee sloshing out of your cup and spilling all over you. you gasp, looking down at your favorite blouse, now stained with dark coffee, and a surge of frustration rises in your chest. the guy who bumped into you stumbles back, clearly just as startled as you are, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring at him. he’s awkward, shifting on his feet, like he doesn’t know what to do. “uh… i didn’t see you,” he says, but his voice trails off. his eyes flicker down to the stain, then back to you, but he doesn’t move to offer help. “clearly,” you huff. he seems to be about to offer something—an apology, maybe—but the words never quite make it out. this is so ridiculous. it’s not like you expected him to drop to his knees asking for forgiveness, but at least do something. instead, he just looks at you, and says, “it’s just coffee.” it’s clear he didn’t mean to spill the drink, but the last thing you need right now is him trying to downplay it. you roll your eyes, your patience wearing thin. “yeah, and now it’s on me!” he raises his eyebrows, almost amused by your reaction. “it’ll probably come out in the wash.” “i can’t go to my next class like this!” you don’t have time for this. “yeah… i—i’m sorry,” he finally says.

you stare at him for a moment, and at first, you almost want to believe his apology, but then you see it. his lips twitch. it’s so subtle, like he’s trying to hold back a laugh, but it’s enough to set you off. your blood boils with frustration, and you glare at him, your patience completely gone. “great. just great,” you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. without waiting for him to respond, you turn on your heel and start walking away, the coffee still soaking through your blouse, irritation simmering beneath your skin. “sorry!” you hear him call after you, but it’s distant. and just before you disappear around the corner, you catch it—the soft sound of a laugh. he’s laughing at you! what a fucking douche! you want to spin around and yell, but you don’t. you’ve got bigger things to worry about. like, for instance, the argument with your boyfriend earlier. it started as something small—just a misunderstanding, a simple disagreement about plans for the weekend—but somehow, it escalated. words were exchanged, and now you’re both giving each other the silent treatment. it doesn’t help that you haven’t had the time or energy to smooth things over. so now, you’re walking around campus, wearing a coffee stain bigger than your damn head, replaying the argument in your mind over and over. it’s like everything is spiraling today.

you’ve officially become a hater of the coffee-spiller guy. it doesn’t take long for you to realize that fate has an awful sense of humor. a couple of days later, when you walk into your ‘history of art’ class, you spot him. there he is, sitting at the back of the lecture hall. you freeze for a moment and his eyes catch yours almost immediately. you can see it—the flicker of recognition, the split second where he remembers exactly who you are. but he looks away quickly. you roll your eyes and find a seat far away from him, making a mental note to never, ever, be near him in this class.

every little thing he does in class irritates you. the way he taps his pen against the desk, that awful, self-satisfied look he gets when he answers a question correctly. then there’s his laugh. it’s loud, obnoxious. you swear you can feel the vibration of it in your chest, like it’s shaking the whole room. and god, don’t even get started on the way he taps his foot incessantly, like he’s got some sort of rhythm problem, the way he flips through his notebook with unnecessary speed, flicking each page with an irritating snap. it drives you crazy. if you could, you’d throw your notebook at him just to get him to stop. but you don’t. because, well, you’re trying to act like an adult. by the end of each lecture, you’re fuming, but the worst part is—you’re starting to remember his name. choi seunghyun.

the next week, your friend doesn’t show up to class, and empty seat where they should be. and it’s a problem, because when the professor starts assigning partners for the semester project, you don’t have one. and of course, because the universe fucking hates you, guess who also doesn’t have a partner? “choi seunghyun, you’ll be with…” the professor scans the room, and your stomach drops before she even says it. your name. you blink. “what?” “you two will be working together on the project.” “can i do it alone? i don’t need a partner,” you say, shaking your head. the professor doesn’t even look up from her notes. “it’s a paired assignment.” “okay, but my partner’s just absent today. they’re still in the class, they’ll be back.” “you’re with seunghyun,” the professor says, finally looking at you, exasperated. you turn in your seat to glare at him, and of course, the asshole looks completely unbothered. you take a deep breath, grip your notebook a little tighter, and push yourself up from your seat. if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that seunghyun isn’t about to haul his ass over to you. which means, unfortunately, you have to go to him. it shouldn’t annoy you as much as it does, but everything about this situation is already pissing you off, so what’s one more thing?

you drop your stuff on his desk and pull out a chair, not waiting for an invitation. “let’s just get this over with.” seunghyun barely glances up. “eager, aren’t you?” “i actually want to pass this class,” you snap, unfolding the project sheet. and then, as your eyes land on the topic, your irritation dims—just a little. “ancient greek sculpture,” you mutter, reading over the details. seunghyun leans back, stretching his arms over the back of his chair. “not bad, huh?” “could’ve been worse,” you admit, tapping your pen against the desk. “greek sculpture is foundational. proportions, movement, realism—this stuff shaped everything that came after it.” he smirks. “glad you won’t be completely miserable, then.” you huff, crossing your arms. “trust me, if i had a different partner, i’d actually be excited about this.” his grin widens. “so i’m the problem?” “seunghyun,” you deadpan, “that was never in question.”

seunghyun doesn’t know why it feels so strange, hearing his name come from you. but it sticks in his head. he keeps his eyes on the project sheet, pretending to read while his mind is somewhere else entirely. you sit across from him, your fingers lingering on the corners of each page before turning them, and every so often, you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re thinking. he shouldn’t be noticing these things. but he does. you’re pretty. no, beautiful. sitting this close, it’s impossible to ignore. the way the light catches your eyes, the faintest crease in your brow when you’re thinking, the soft curve of your cheeks when you huff in frustration. there’s something about it—something that makes him glance away too quickly when you look up. but when you start talking, it’s even worse. your voice changes when you talk about art. there’s a spark in it, something alive, something that makes him sit up just a little straighter. you don’t just like this stuff—you care about it. and he gets that. because he cares too. he watches the way your hands move, the way you gesture like your words aren’t enough on their own. the way your eyes light up when you explain something, like you’re seeing it in your head as you say it. and it’s… nice.

as the conversation drags on, you feel the irritation you’ve been holding onto slowly start to slip away. at first, you thought seunghyun’d be the type of guy who leaves you to do all the work. but as he starts talking, you realize something you hadn’t anticipated. there’s this calm reason to his words, like he’s thought about what he’s saying before he says it—a kind of maturity in the way he talks. it’s not just facts he’s spitting out, it’s a genuine understanding. he’s making connections between things you hadn’t considered, filling in gaps you didn’t even know were there. and damn it, it makes you think twice. it messes with your entire perception of him.

“so, who’s your favorite greek sculptor?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost like he genuinely wants to know. you pause, considering. “it’s hard to pick,” you say, tapping your pen against the desk. “but if i had to choose, i’d go with praxiteles. he was one of the first to really capture natural human beauty. his sculptures, like the ‘hermes and the infant dionysus’, they’re just… they look like they could breathe, you know? like they’re alive.” you glance up to see him nodding. “yeah,” he murmurs. he falls silent for a moment, his eyes drifting down to his notebook. “for me, it’d probably be phidias,” he says. “the one who worked on the parthenon. his sculptures, especially the statue of athena… it’s just incredible.” he looks up at you then, a small, almost hesitant smile on his face. “there’s something about the way he made the gods feel so… human. like they were both divine and reachable at the same time.” “mhm.” you nod slowly. it’s strange—how much you find yourself agreeing with him.

he shifts in his seat, looking at the paper between you two but not really focusing on it anymore. “so, uh…” he starts, trailing off for a second like he’s trying to find the right words. “what do you usually do outside of class?” you glance at him, a little surprised by the sudden change in topic. “outside of class?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “yeah,” he says, shrugging slightly. “just curious. got any weird hobbies?” you chuckle at the thought, leaning back in your chair. “weird hobbies? i don’t know about weird, but i like to read. i write a lot, too. and i sing, sometimes.” his eyes widen, and he looks at you with a kind of surprised excitement. “wait, you sing?” you nod, a little unsure of his reaction. “yeah, just for fun, though.” he’s practically leaning forward now, his voice more animated. “seriously? i like to sing too! but not like—i don’t perform or anything, but i mess around with writing songs sometimes.” you blink at him, surprised. “you write songs?” “yeah!” he says, his eyes lighting up as he talks. “mostly rap songs! just stuff i keep to myself. i don’t know, it helps me get my thoughts out.” you’re taken aback, not expecting that from him at all. “that’s… actually pretty cool! i didn’t think you’d be the type.” he chuckles a little, almost shy now, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. i don’t know, music’s kind of a big deal for me.” “i get that. i mean, i feel the same way about writing. it’s like… the only way to really get everything out.” his smile softens, and he nods, almost like he’s relieved that you get it. “exactly. it’s the only way i know how to say what i’m feeling.” he pauses, then adds, “i guess we’re not that different, huh?” you grin, a little more comfortable with him now. “guess not.”

weeks go by, and somehow, without you really noticing when it happened, you stop dreading working with seunghyun. at first, it was just about getting the project done—tolerating his presence, keeping things academically professional. but somewhere along the way, that changes. you start meeting up outside of class—not just in the library, but in the university cafeteria, sometimes even grabbing a table outside when the weather’s nice. at first, it’s always under the excuse of we need to finish this, but little by little, the project stops being the main focus of your meetings. it starts with small things. “you drink your coffee black?” you ask one afternoon, watching as he stirs his drink. he glances up at you, raising an eyebrow. “sometimes. why?” you wrinkle your nose, shaking your head. “no sugar, no milk… nothing?” “nope. not today,” he says, taking a sip like it’s no big deal. “you think that’s weird?” “oh, definitely.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “coming from someone who drowns theirs in sugar? right.” you scoff, feigning offense. “excuse me for liking some flavor in my life.” he only smirks, taking another sip of his coffee. and you don’t know why, but you find yourself watching the way his fingers wrap around the cup, the way he always waits a second before actually drinking. “talking about coffee,” seunghyun clears his throat. “i—i’m sorry for bumping into you that day. and for your blouse.” you blink, a little thrown by the sudden apology. you hadn’t expected him to bring it up. for a second, you almost forgot about that. but the memory comes back in full color—the embarrassment, the heat of the coffee soaking into fabric, and, worst of all, the way you heard him laugh right after. you shrug, forcing a small smile. “it’s fine! stuff happens.” but it doesn’t come out as smooth as you want it to. he notices. “look, i—i wasn’t laughing at you.” you don’t say anything, just arch a brow. “i mean, yeah, i laughed. but it wasn’t, like—fuck, i just do that when i’m nervous.” he lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “it’s a stupid reflex. i wasn’t trying to be an asshole.” “nervous?” you echo, curiosity edging into your voice. he hesitates for a second. “i don’t know. you caught me off guard.” “it’s okay! really.” “it won’t happen again, i promise.” “what, spilling my coffee? or the nervous laughing?” you grin. “both. if i can help it.” he smiles back.

one afternoon, you’re both hunched over your notebooks at your usual table in the cafeteria, trying to put together a proper analysis for the project, when he suddenly groans, running a hand through his hair. “okay, i need a break.” “agreed,” you sigh, stretching your arms over your head. “i think my brain is melting.” he leans back in his chair, exhaling. “we should just drop out. open a karaoke bar instead.” you hum, pretending to consider it. “tempting. but i think we’d go bankrupt in a week.” “probably,” he admits, smirking slightly. then, a sudden gust of wind blows through the open door. a few loose sheets of paper fly off the table, and you both reach for them at the same time. your hands brush, just for a second. you freeze. he does too. but instead of pulling away immediately, he hesitates. it’s barely noticeable, but you feel it—his fingers just lingering before he finally lets go. you don’t look at him, just focus on gathering the papers, but your heart beats a little faster anyway. he clears his throat, sitting back. “we should probably staple these,” he says, voice a little quieter than before. “yeah,” you mutter, shuffling the pages together.

another day, you find yourselves in the campus library, tucked away in a quiet corner where barely anyone goes. at first, it’s about the project—like it always is—but before long, you’re talking about anything but that. “okay, real question,” you say, tapping your pen against your notebook. “if you could live in any painting, which one would it be?” seunghyun leans back, arms crossed. he barely takes a second to think. “anything by kandinsky.” “oohh! good choice!” “right? it’d be like living inside music.” you nod, smiling. “i guess that suits you.” “what about you?” he asks, gaze flicking to you. you think for a moment before saying, “‘the garden of earthly delights.’” he lets out a low laugh. “crazy choice.” “shut up.” you laugh too. “i mean, it’s chaotic, sure, but it’d never be boring. plus, i’d be surrounded by nature—which i love—and i’d also get to hang out with weird little creatures all day.” seunghyun has to stifle the loud laugh scratching his throat. “it’s an orgy,” he says. you blink. “what?” “‘the garden of earthly delights.’ you picked a medieval sex party. should i be concerned?” you burst out laughing and a student a few tables away shoots you a look over their glasses, pressing a finger to their lips. “okay, first of all, that is not the reason i picked it.” you whisper, biting back another laugh. “but it’s there,” he insists, raising a brow. “like, everyone in that painting is naked.” “but they’re just eating fruit,” you retort. “yeah, and fruit is like… the biggest metaphor for sex ever. come on now.” you shake your head, still laughing softly, trying to contain yourself. “i just like that it’s weird, okay? it looks like something out of a fever dream. plus, i feel like bosch was on something when he painted it, and honestly? i respect that.” “so what you’re saying is, you wanna live in chaos.” “no, i wanna live somewhere that would never be boring. kinda like you picking kandinsky. kandinsky is chaos too, just in a different font,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest. “dude’s entire thing is just shapes and color explosions. what does that say about you?” he grins. “it says i’m fun.” “it says you have the attention span of a goldfish.” his mouth falls open in exaggerated offense. “okay, rude.” your laughter spills out again, earning you another round of disapproving stares from a group of students at a nearby table. one of them—not even looking up from their notes—goes, “shhh!”

seunghyun leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. his eyes flicker over your face, thoughtful. “what?” you ask, raising a brow. he shrugs. “nothing. just… you’re different from what i expected.” “that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?” his lips twitch. “take it as a compliment.” he grins, but there’s something in his expression—something a little too observant, like he’s picking apart a puzzle piece by piece. “so? what did you expect?” he hesitates for just a second before saying, “i don’t know.” he does know, or at least, he has some idea. he expected someone easier to read. but you’re not easy to read, and now he’s realizing that the more he pays attention, the more there is to figure out. he just doesn’t know how to say it. but he’s also noticed the cracks, the way some days you seem a little quieter, like you’re carrying something heavier than you let on. he wonders if you even realize it, how your guard slips in the smallest ways. maybe he shouldn’t say anything. maybe it’s not his place. but the words slip before he can stop himself. “i’ve noticed some days you’re different. like… sad.” it catches you so off guard that you don’t even know what to say for a moment. you force a small scoff. “everyone has off days.” he doesn’t buy it. “yeah, but not everyone acts like they don’t.” his voice is softer now, more careful. “i just—i think you’re good at keeping people out.” “most people aren’t worth letting in,” you reply. “i get that. sorry, i’m—i mean, i notice because i do the same thing,” he admits. the way he says it, like he actually sees you, makes your chest feel tight. you press your tongue against the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the way your pulse has picked up. “i think you like analyzing people too much.” seunghyun snorts. “only when they’re interesting.” you open your mouth to respond, but you hesitate, suddenly hyperaware of how close he is. when did he lean in like that? or were you the one who moved? “right, okay,” you clear your throat, shifting in your seat and looking down at the books in front of you. “so, back to the hellenistic period. sculptures are less perfect compared to the classical period, more real. i’ll do the analysis of venus de milo, you can work on laocoön and his sons, if that’s okay with you.” he chuckles softly. “sure. sounds good to me.”

and when you’re walking together out of campus after—the sun already starting to set outside—he asks, “wait, have you ever been to the art gallery downtown?” you blink at him. “which one?” “the modern art gallery,” he says, hands tucked into his pockets, hoodie pulled up over his head. “they’ve got an exhibit on abstract and expressionist paintings right now. thought you might be interested.” you hesitate for a second, caught off guard. “you’ve been?” he nods. “yeah. went last week.” “alone?” “yeah.” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “sometimes it’s nice to go without distractions.” “weirdo,” you joke, and he chuckles. then you hum, considering it. “maybe i’ll check it out.” “you should,” he says, then—after a pause—“i could go again. if you wanted.” you glance at him, but he’s looking straight ahead, like he didn’t just say something that makes your stomach feel weird. you don’t answer right away. but you don’t say no, either.

a few days later, you end up at a park near campus, sitting on a bench. “okay,” you say, exhaling, “this is officially the furthest we’ve strayed from our project.” he smirks. “we could talk about it now, if you want.” you groan dramatically, leaning your head back. “ugh. please, no. let me live.” he chuckles, shaking his head. then, he tugs his hoodie over his head, the fabric bunching up around his face when he pulls its strings slightly. you watch him for a second before the thought slips out. “why do you do that?” his gaze flicks to you. “do what?” “pull your hoodie up like that. you do it all the time.” he exhales a quiet laugh, looking away. “i just… i don’t know. makes me feel more… covered?” he hesitates, then adds, almost like it’s an afterthought, “and i don’t like my ears getting cold.” “your ears?” “yeah.” but you know that look on his face. and you know the feeling, too. the urge to shrink youself, to avoid giving people something to make fun of. “i like your ears.” his head lifts slightly, eyes meeting yours in surprise. “what?” you shrug. “they’re nice.” for the first time, he actually looks caught off guard. “that’s… weirdly specific,” he laughs softly. “just take the compliment, hyun,” you say, rolling your eyes with a smile. he freezes for half a second. hyun? since when do you call him that? do you even realize you said it? he clears his throat, shifting like he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself. it’s just a nickname. it’s not a big deal. people shorten names all the time. but there’s this weird warmth settling in his chest, and he hates how much he notices it. “it was… it was genuine,” you add. “i used to be really insecure about them. my ears, i mean. well, actually… i used to be really insecure about a lot of things when i was younger.” “really?” “yeah. and people can be brutal. i got called all kinds of things. made me not want to talk much, not want to draw attention to myself.” your brows pull together as you listen. he’s opening up, letting you see a part of him that he probably doesn’t show most people. and you don’t take that lightly. “i’m talking too much again, aren’t i? i’m sorry—“ “you can talk about it,” you reassure him. “i’m listening.” you care? he wasn’t expecting that at all. “i just… never really felt comfortable in my own skin.” “i get that. i… i feel the same way.” “seriously?” “yeah. when i was younger most people thought i was weird. and i’ve never been the prettiest either. no one really looked at me.” “that’s crazy to me.” “why?” you ask, frowning. “why? are you kidding me? look at you!” his eyes flick away, like he just realized what he said. “i mean—” he clears his throat. “i don’t think you’re weird at all. you’re—you’re kind, and sweet, and funny, and smart as hell, and understanding…” he pauses. “and i think you’re very pretty, too.” you feel heat rise to your cheeks. “thanks, seunghyun,” you smile at him. “but—“ “ah, ah.” he shakes his head, pointing at you with his index finger. and in the same tone you used earlier, he says, “just take the compliment.” and you both laugh. the conversation drifts after that. you talk about books, music, childhood stories. and at some point, you glance at him and realize—he’s not as bad as you once thought. you could even consider him your friend at this point. and before you know it, you’re kind of looking forward to these moments.

saturday morning. it’s supposed to be a normal day. just you and your boyfriend, going from store to store, him carrying the bags while you browse through clothes, debating whether you really need another sweater. you don’t expect to see him. but then, as you’re exiting a store, laughing at something your boyfriend says, you hear a familiar voice. “oh. hey.” you stop mid-step, looking up. seunghyun is standing a few feet away, eyebrows raised. and he’s not alone. next to him, holding onto his arm, is a girl. she’s pretty. really pretty. she has that effortless kind of elegance, the type of girl you’d expect to see in an old film, with delicate jewelry and a perfect smile. you weren’t expecting this. you weren’t expecting him at all, let alone with someone. for a second, no one speaks. then, because you have to, you clear your throat. “uh—hey.” he nods, glancing at your boyfriend, then back at you. oh. right. introductions. that’s what people do, right? introduce their significant others? “so uhm… this is my boyfriend,” you say, nudging him slightly. your boyfriend extends a hand. “nice to meet you, man.” seunghyun hesitates—just for a fraction of a second—before shaking it. “yeah. you too.” then, as if remembering his own situation, he shifts slightly. “and… this is my girlfriend.” girlfriend…? she smiles, polite. “hi.” you don’t know why it feels weird. you force a small smile back. “nice to meet you.”

there’s a beat of silence, awkward and heavy, before your boyfriend gestures to the shopping bags in his hand. “someone got a little carried away,” he chuckles. “hey!” you nudge him, feigning offense. “i needed all of this.” seunghyun huffs a quiet laugh, barely noticeable, but you catch it. “are you guys shopping too?” you ask, because the silence is unbearable. “not really,” his girlfriend answers before he can. “just walking around, grabbing coffee.” “oh, nice,” you say, nodding, even though that doesn’t really keep the conversation going. you glance at him, searching for something else to say. “so no shopping spree for you?” he shakes his head. “no, not today. i don’t shop that much.” “right. you’re more of a ‘spend hours in an art gallery alone’ kind of guy.” you were trying to bring some humor into the conversation but oh my god. why did you say that? was that even a joke? (literally no one laughed…) his lips twitch slightly, like he wants to smile but doesn’t. “yeah.” another silence. his girlfriend tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking between the two of you. “so… how do you guys know each other?” “we’re working on a project together,” you say quickly. “for our ‘history of art’ class,” seunghyun adds, voice quieter than yours. she hums, nodding. “that’s nice.” you don’t miss the way she squeezes his arm slightly, like a subconscious claim.

your boyfriend, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice the awkward tension, but you do. seunghyun does. maybe it’s because, for weeks now, it’s just been you and him, meeting up, talking, working together. and somehow, in all that time, neither of you ever mentioned the people waiting for you outside of those moments. “we should—” you start, at the same time he says, “well, we—” you both stop. you let out a small, breathy laugh, and he exhales, shaking his head. “see you in class,” he says eventually. “yeah,” you nod. “see you.” and then you’re both walking in opposite directions, like that wasn’t weird at all.

it shouldn’t feel weird. it shouldn’t feel like anything. but your mind keeps circling back to it a day after. to him. to her. you don’t know why it caught you so off guard. or why it lingers now. maybe it’s the fact that you spent all these weeks talking to seunghyun, learning little pieces of him in a way that felt… too personal. and neither of you ever mentioned having a significant other. why? because he never asked? because you never did? because it never felt necessary? or because, deep down, some part of you didn’t want to say it? you swallow, shaking off the thought, forcing yourself to focus on something else. you’re just overthinking the situation. you have a boyfriend and seunghyun and you are just… classmates? friends? whatever.

class feels different on monday. not in a way anyone else would notice, but you feel it. in the way you and seunghyun settle into your usual seats, in the way neither of you says anything at first. usually, by now, one of you would’ve made some kind of comment, but today, there’s just silence. you busy yourself by flipping through your notes, pretending to be more focused than you actually are. he clears his throat. “did you finish the research on the kouros statues?” you nod. “yeah. i wrote some notes about the stylistic differences over time.” “good,” he says. “we can work on the structure later.” and that’s it. just straight to business. what a great way to start the day…! it annoys you. so, before you can stop yourself, you blurt it out. “you never told me you had a girlfriend.” you try to say it in a playful tone but you fail terribly at it. he looks at you. “you never told me you had a boyfriend,” he replies in the same awkward way. there’s a beat of silence after that, just enough for the words to hang between you two. then, unexpectedly, he chuckles—soft, like he’s trying to shake off the awkwardness. “guess we’re both bad at this,” he says, half-smiling. you snort, rolling your eyes. “yeah, apparently.” he leans back in his seat a little, fingers tapping lightly on his notebook. “so, how long?” you raise an eyebrow. “how long what?” “how long have you been with him? if you don’t mind me asking.” you bite your lip for a second, debating how much to share. “like… a little under two years,” you say finally. “we met online.” seunghyun raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “online?” “yeah, on instagram. i posted a picture, and he texted me after that. i know, it sounds kinda pathetic, but that’s how it happened.” you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed admitting it, but you shrug it off. “we’ve been together ever since… he’s my first love.” “not judging,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips. you’re grateful he doesn’t make you feel weird about it. “what about you two?” “we’ve been together for a while too. a year and a few months. she’s also my first love. i met her through a mutual friend,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “we were hanging out at one of his parties, we started talking, and… here we are.” “that sounds more normal than my story.” he shrugs, a small grin tugging at his lips. “hey, it worked out, right?” “yeah, it did,” you agree, smiling slightly.

but oh, if only he knew. the last couple of months have been… hard. a constant string of arguments, over the smallest things. it’s like every time you talk, it turns into a fight. you thought it was just a rough patch, but it doesn’t feel like a patch anymore. it started small at first—just him being a little distant. but it kept growing. he used to say “i love you” all the time, like it was the easiest thing in the world. but now? it’s like those words are stuck in his throat, like he’s forgotten how to say them, or worse—like he doesn’t want to say them anymore. you’ve noticed how he’s been putting others before you too, choosing to hang out with his friends or canceling plans with you last minute without a real reason. it hurts, and you don’t know how to fix it. but you can’t tell seunghyun that.

but to your surprise, after a beat of silence, seunghyun says, “it’s funny.” voice quieter than usual, almost like he’s not sure whether he should admit this. “things have been a little… rough with my girlfriend lately.” you blink. there’s something about hearing him say that, something about knowing you’re not the only one struggling, that makes you feel a little lighter. not because you want him to be going through something hard too, but because it makes you feel like it’s normal. like maybe every relationship has its bumps.“what do you mean?” you ask, leaning forward slightly. “i don’t know. we’re just… not clicking like we used to. it feels like we can’t talk without it turning into an argument, and i hate it.” he pauses. “like—when you made that joke the other day, about me going to art galleries alone, she got mad at me for even telling you about it. she said it ‘put her in a bad light’ because she doesn’t do those things with me… but she’s the one who doesn’t want to come, even when i ask.” you feel a pang of guilt, like your joke somehow made things worse. "sorry," you say, glancing at him. "i didn't mean to stir anything up." seunghyun shakes his head, like it's not a big deal at all. "oh, no. it was just an example. it's not your fault," he says. then, he shifts in his seat, suddenly looking more uncomfortable than before, like he’s regretting saying anything at all. “look, i didn’t mean to dump that on you,” he says quickly, his voice awkward now. “i… i love my girlfriend, you know? i’m just frustrated. it’s not… it’s not that bad or anything.” you can see the nervousness in his eyes, the way he avoids your gaze, trying to brush off what he said. it��s clear he wasn’t expecting to let that out. but you can also see how much he’s trying to act like everything is fine, even though it’s obvious he’s not. just like you. “hey,” you say softly, reaching across the table just a little, enough for him to hear the sincerity in your voice. “it’s okay. i get it. relationships aren’t always easy.” you take a breath, then decide to be honest. “i’ve been feeling the same way with my boyfriend. we’ve been fighting a lot lately, and it’s… tough. we’re just… constantly butting heads.”

he goes quiet after that. like, really quiet. there’s something in his dark eyes—hesitation, maybe. or relief. like he needed to hear that he wasn’t alone in this, that someone else out there was struggling with the same messy, frustrating parts of love. and then, almost abruptly, he suggests it. skipping the rest of the day. just ditching everything and going to that same art gallery. it catches you off guard, but you don’t even hesitate before nodding.

the gallery is damn near empty at that hour, just the two of you wandering through halls lined with color and shadow, bathed in soft overhead lights that make everything feel a little more intimate. there’s something about being here, surrounded by all this art, that makes it easier to breathe. you both stop at the first painting that catches your eye—a massive canvas of deep blues, layered thick like it’s been slathered on with a palette knife, with jagged streaks of gold cutting through the darkness like lightning. you let out a quiet ‘fuck’, barely above a whisper. seunghyun huffs a small laugh. “looks like someone was trying to do rothko but got pissed off halfway through.” you smirk, tilting your head. “nah, this is too aggressive for rothko. feels more like franz kline, but with, like… a caravaggio-level obsession with drama.” his lips twitch. “yeah, i see that. but notice how the gold isn’t just random—it’s balanced. it pulls your eye across the whole thing, cutting through the shades of blue.” you’re quiet for a moment, taking it in. “dependency,” you say. “the gold wouldn’t mean anything without the darkness of the blue.” he looks at you, eyes glinting under the gallery lights. “exactly.” and that’s how it goes. you move through the gallery slowly, stopping at every piece, actually talking about the art, finding beauty in all of it. even the weird, messy, seemingly meaningless ones. it’s easy, because you both get it. you see the details, the choices, the way every piece has something to say. you pause in front of a sculpture—a chaotic mess of rusted metal, welded together at impossible angles. “brutalist, but trying to be constructivist,” you murmur, circling it. “like… it wants to have structure, but it’s resisting.” seunghyun chuckles. “or maybe it’s collapsing. like tatlin’s tower, if they’d actually built it and just let it rot.” “okay, points for that reference.” he grins. “i know my stuff.”

somewhere along the way, the conversation shifts. you start talking about relationships, about the ways they fall apart. but it doesn’t feel heavy. because you’re realizing how fucking similar your relationships are, and in a way, how similar you and seunghyun are too. it makes you feel less lonely. “it’s always the same thing,” you say, shaking your head. “getting angry when i ask what’s wrong, giving me the silent treatment, then blaming me about every bad-fucking-thing that’s ever happened to him—calling me a crazy bitch just to come back a day after, acting like everything’s fine.” “yeah, fucks with your head, makes you question if you’re actually the problem when really, he’s just deflecting.” he shifts his weight, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “guys like that, they don’t know how to handle their own shit, so they make it yours.” he glances at you, voice softer now. “but you know that, right? that it’s not you?” you let out a bitter laugh, rubbing a hand over your face. “i mean, i tell myself that. but after a while, it’s like… how many times can someone treat you like shit before you start wondering if maybe you deserve it?” “you don’t,” he reassures. seunghyun’s jaw tightens, his gaze flicking away for a second. “i know that feeling too.” he hesitates, like he’s debating whether to say it. “with my girlfriend, it’s different, but also not. it’s like—she just won’t fucking talk to me. she gets mad at me for not knowing what’s wrong, but then when i ask, she shuts down. and she treats me like shit when that happens too. she yells at me, calls me names, ignores my texts… makes me feel like an idiot for even trying.” “like she expects you to read her mind.” he nods, huffing a short laugh. “exactly. and then when i give her space, it’s ‘you don’t care.’ when i push to talk, it’s ‘you don’t respect boundaries.’ i can’t—i don’t know, everything i do is fucking wrong in her eyes.” you scoff. “god, it’s the same thing. like, just say what you want! say what you mean! don’t make me guess.” seunghyun lets out a sharp exhale, like he’s been holding that in for too long. “right?! i hate that shit. like, i’m here. i want to fix it. but how the fuck am i supposed to do that if she won’t even let me in?” there’s a pause, the weight of both your words settling in the quiet gallery. “makes you wonder if it’s even worth it,” you murmur. seunghyun’s lips press into a thin line, his fingers tightening in his pockets. “yeah.” he exhales, looking up at the ceiling like it might have the answer. “but then they apologize, and suddenly it’s like none of it ever happened. and you want to believe it, because for those few hours or days, it feels good again.” you nod, because you know exactly what he means. “and then it starts all over.” he looks at you then, eyes meeting yours like he’s searching for something. “yeah.”

silence settles between you and your gaze drifts to the painting in front of you. but your eyes don’t stay on it for long. without really meaning to, you glance at seunghyun. he’s standing there, just a little in front of you, his gaze fixed on the painting, like he’s seeing something no one else can. the soft lighting catches the sharp angles of his jaw, the high planes of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, his dark hair falling just a little out of place—it’s almost unfair how effortlessly attractive he is. you should look away. but you don’t. and then, like he can feel your gaze, he shifts. his eyes flicker toward you, catching you in the act. your breath stumbles. but he doesn’t say anything—just holds your gaze for a second too long, a knowing smile tugging at his lips before he looks back at the painting. and you swear the air feels warmer after that. what the hell is happening to you?

months pass, and you’re closer than ever. one day, he’s just some guy you had a class with, and then, somehow, he’s your best friend. the project you worked on together? you absolutely crushed it—high marks, glowing feedback from your professor, the kind of result that makes all the half-serious arguments about formatting feel worth it. now you hang out all the time. and not just around campus—you start meeting up outside, too. going to the cinema together, picking dumb movies just to make fun of them. letting him come over to your place, where he inevitably kicks your ass at whatever game you decide to play—but then grumbles when you start getting better and actually put up a fight. some days, you just drive around aimlessly, talking about everything and nothing, stopping for food at sketchy places that somehow have the best food you’ve ever tried. you also help him with his relationship problems, and he helps with yours. well, help is a strong word—mostly, you just sit around, venting, analyzing every little thing your significant others do, trying to make sense of it all. sometimes, you’ll lie on his couch, scrolling through texts, trying to decode what a delayed response or a vague message really means. other times, he’s the one ranting, pacing the room, running a frustrated hand through his hair. neither of you have any real answers, but somehow, just saying it out loud makes it easier to carry.

the texting never stops either. even after spending the whole day together, even when you know you’ll see each other tomorrow. memes, whatever pops into your head at midnight, reminders about class or inside jokes from earlier in the day, thoughts about love and life. messages that start lighthearted but end up lingering in your mind long after the conversation ends. he’s the person you call when something good happens. he’s also the person you call when everything sucks. he becomes part of your life in a way that feels permanent. like even if everything else changes, he’ll still be there.

well, surprise! you are very wrong! it happens slowly at first, so slowly that you almost don’t notice it. a missed call here, a delayed text there. seunghyun stops responding as quickly, but you tell yourself it’s nothing—maybe he’s just busy. but then, suddenly, there’s no texting at all. he stops reaching out, and when you text first, the replies are short, distant, like he’s talking to a stranger instead of you. at first, you brush it off. maybe he’s just going through something. you give him space, waiting for him to come back on his own. but then he starts avoiding you in person, too. in class, he stops sitting next to you. when you try to talk to him, he keeps it brief, like the past few months never even happened. so you try. you crack jokes, hoping to lighten the mood. he barely reacts. you ask if he wants to grab coffee after class, and there’s always an excuse. but you’re stubborn. you keep trying, keep telling yourself that maybe he just needs time. maybe if you push a little harder, he’ll tell you what’s wrong. maybe he’ll go back to being the seunghyun you know. but he doesn’t. so eventually, you stop. because there’s only so many times you can knock on a closed door before you realize no one’s going to open it.

but fuck, you miss him. you miss seunghyun so much… in all the small, stupid ways that sneak up on you. you miss the way he used to walk you home after class, even when it was completely out of his way. how he’d always offer you his jacket without making a big deal out of it, just drape it over your shoulders. you miss how he’d send you voice notes instead of texts when he was tired, his voice soft and half-laughing as he complained about his day. like how he accidentally bought decaf coffee and didn’t realize until he’d already had two cups. or when he got locked out and had to convince the neighbor to let him climb across their balcony to reach his window—commentary and all, like he was narrating his own survival special. you miss sitting next to him during boring lectures, passing notes like you were in high school again—little doodles, sarcastic comments, the occasional ‘want to skip and get tteokbokki?’ scrawled in messy handwriting. how he’d always save you a seat beside him, even when he didn’t need to. you miss sharing your music with him, like that rainy afternoon you spent at the bus stop together, both of you soaked and laughing, sharing one headphone while waiting for a bus that never came. you miss how he’d always remember the little things—your favorite candy, the name of that song you liked for two weeks straight, the way you hated talking on the phone but would answer when it was him.

you love your boyfriend. you do. you’ve fought for this relationship, worked through the rough patches, stayed when it would’ve been easier to walk away. so why does your heart feel so heavy when you think about seunghyun? why do these stupid little memories of him make your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with losing a friend? and then it hits you. you were starting to fall for seunghyun. the realization slams into you like a truck, knocking the air right out of your lungs. your stomach twists, guilt rising up so fast it makes you dizzy. you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head as if that’ll get rid of the thoughts. it’s nothing. just stupid feelings messing with you because you miss seunghyun as a friend. that’s all. it has to be. but deep down, you know. you don’t want to deal with this. any of it. it makes you sick. you try to shove it down, bury it deep where it can’t touch you. but the more you try to push it away, the worse it gets. anger starts to creep in, and you start resenting seunghyun. resentment is easier. that’s what you tell yourself. it’s easier than facing the awful, sinking truth—that you like him. that, somewhere along the way, he started meaning too much. so you turn that feeling into something bitter. it’s easier to hate him for pushing you away without an explanation.

you don’t say hi when you pass each other on campus. he doesn’t either. you just walk by like two people who never meant a damn thing to each other. in class, is where it’s the worst. you’re stuck two rows apart, forced to exist in the same space, forced to hear his voice, and it pisses you off. everything about him pisses you off again now. so when the discussion turns to a painting you know he’s wrong about, you jump at the chance. “that’s not what it means,” you say. seunghyun pauses mid-sentence. his jaw tightens slightly. “i wasn’t talking to you.” “yeah, well, you’re still wrong.” you lean back in your seat, arms crossed, glare locked onto him. “the artist literally said in an interview that the painting was about grief, not isolation.” “and what, you suddenly know more than everyone now?” “i know how to read.” he exhales through his nose. “interpretation exists for a reason. it doesn’t have to mean just one thing.” “so your interpretation is just better than the artist’s own words? that makes total sense.” someone snickers a few seats over. the professor looks unimpressed but doesn’t step in. “are you done?” he asks. “no, i’m not,” you reply before stating your opinion and interpretation of the painting. seunghyun shakes his head, muttering something under his breath.

the bickering continues for months. that class turns into a battlefield, every discussion an excuse to dig into each other. it doesn’t even matter what the topic is anymore—if seunghyun says one thing, you find a way to contradict it. if you make a point, he challenges it. he acts like he doesn’t care, but he does. you see it in the way his jaw tightens when you cut him off. in the way his fingers drum against the desk when your words hit a little too hard. in the way his voice gets sharper, more clipped, when he finally bites back. good! you want him to feel as frustrated as you do, as angry as you do. but one day, when the class ends and you’re gathering your things ready to leave, you feel fingers wrap around your wrist. firm, but not rough. seunghyun. your breath catches. he’s barely touched you before, but now, he’s pulling you aside, out of the classroom, into the quieter hallway. “why are you doing this?” he asks, frustrated. you snatch your wrist out of his grasp. “doing what?” he lets out a slow breath. “you know what.” you do. of course you do. “you should know.” his eyes search yours before his shoulders drop slightly, and he steps back. “okay.” you scoff. “okay? that’s all you have to say?” “what else do you want me to say?” “i want an explanation.” the words snap out before you can stop them. “you just—you just left, seunghyun.” his jaw clenches. “that’s not—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “nothing happened.” “what?” “nothing happened.” he repeats, like that somehow makes it better. “there’s no explanation. i just—” he runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “it’s nothing.” “don’t lie.” “i’m not lying.” “yes, you are!” you snap. “you don’t just wake up one day and decide to cut someone out of your life for nothing.” he doesn’t say anything. you narrow your eyes. “was it because of her?” his brows furrow slightly. “what?” “your girlfriend.” you say, sharper this time. “is that why? she didn’t like me or something?” his whole posture stiffens. “no. that’s not—” he shakes his head. “this has nothing to do with her.” “then why?” “i don’t know what you want me to say.” “i want the truth.” “there’s no—” “you always complained about her not telling you what was wrong, even when you asked. now i’m asking you, hyun,” your voice sounds almost pleading. “i’m asking you to be fucking honest with me. did i do something wrong? i just—please. please, tell me.” for a split second, something flickers across his face. something real. but then it’s gone, buried under that frustrating, detached calm of his. seunghyun swallows, his gaze dropping to the floor. “i already told you. there’s nothing to explain.” and that’s when it really sinks in. he’s not going to tell you. he’s not going to give you answers. you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to ignore the way your throat tightens. “okay,” you say quietly, almost in a whisper. “have a good day, seunghyun.”

when the academic year ends, you feel like you can finally breathe. the weight of seeing seunghyun every day finally lifts, and you don’t realize how much it was draining you until it’s gone. summer feels like a breath of fresh air. no classes to deal with, no more running into him on campus. you actually start to feel better. the long days blend into each other, and the heat is almost a relief, as if the sun can melt away the last remnants of all the mess that’s been building up inside you. you spend time with friends, with your boyfriend, with family, dive into your hobbies—things that make you feel again, instead of being stuck in that heavy, frustrating place you were in just a few months ago.

the day feels like any other. it’s one of those lazy summer days, the kind that stretches on, with no obligations in sight. you’re in the kitchen, a soft hum of music filling the space as you chop vegetables for your lunch. it’s a soothing task, one that lets you lose yourself in the rhythm while the world spins on without much thought. then, your phone rings. the sound slices through the calm, pulling your attention to the screen. the moment you see the name, your heart skips a beat. seunghyun. you freeze, knife halfway through slicing a carrot. the world feels like it slows down for a moment. it’s been months since you last heard from him, since that final conversation you thought would be the last. you can feel your breath catch in your chest as your mind races. why is he calling now? what could he possibly want? you stare at his name, watching the screen flash. your fingers hover over the phone, torn. there’s a part of you that wants to ignore it, to send him straight to voicemail. it would be easier, right? just let him stay in the past where he belongs. but another part of you wants to know why he’s calling. you’ll regret it if you don’t pick up.

with a sharp exhale, you swipe your finger across the screen. “hello?” your voice sounds smaller than you expected. there’s a long silence on the other end. you can hear faint sounds—shuffling, soft breaths, maybe a sniffle—and then, his voice cracks through, shaky and broken. “hey…” your stomach drops. there’s something wrong. something off in his tone. “seunghyun?” you whisper, suddenly feeling the weight of his name. he doesn’t respond right away, and you can hear him sniffle again. “i—” his voice cracks. “are you okay?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, panic creeping up your spine. there’s a long pause. you wait, heart pounding in your ears. and then, his voice comes, quieter this time. “no. i’m not okay.” you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the tension in his voice seeping into your bones. “what’s going on?” you ask, your words coming out urgent, concerned. “hyun, talk to me.” there’s a shaky breath on the other end before he finally speaks. “she cheated on me.” it’s the last thing you expected to hear. you swallow. “what? your girlfriend?” “i found out a couple days ago,” he continues, his words slow, like he’s choosing each one carefully. “she… she left her phone unlocked. and i didn’t mean to snoop i swear, but i saw messages—pictures, stuff i shouldn’t have seen. i knew something was off before, but seeing it…” you wince, not sure what to say. you can’t imagine what he must’ve been going through. “i’m sorry,” you say quietly, the words feeling too small. he lets out a shaky sigh, and you hear him breathe in like he’s trying to pull himself together. “yeah, well… it’s done now. we argued for days, but today, i… i ended it. it’s over.” “oh. i’m sorry, hyun, i… i don’t know what to say.” there’s a long pause, and when he speaks again, it’s with an almost defeated tone. “i… i didn’t mean to call you. i just—i don’t know,” he says, his words stumbling over each other. “i didn’t want to bother you. i-i shouldn’t have called. i don’t know why i did.” he’s almost apologizing, and the guilt in his voice makes you frown. “don’t hang up,” you say quickly, before you even think about it. “please don’t hang up.” “i’m sorry for calling you out of nowhere.” you feel a pang of sadness at his words. “it’s okay,” you reply. “you don’t have to apologize for calling. i’m here, okay? you can talk to me.”

seunghyun sits there, phone pressed to his ear, wondering how you can still be here for him after everything, after he pushed you away. the guilt eats at him, every part of him screaming that he doesn’t deserve to have someone like you by his side. “i thought you’d be done with me by now,” he says, almost in a whisper. you shake your head even though he can’t see you, your hand gripping the phone a little tighter. “we were friends, seunghyun,” you remind him, your voice gentle. “i know things got messed up, but… we were friends. best friends. and i told you i’d always be there for you.” you pause, chewing on your lower lip for a moment, before you finally say what you’ve been thinking. “if you want, i can come over. we can talk… or not talk. whatever you need.” you hold your breath, waiting for his response. there’s a long, stunned silence on the other end. “you want to see me?” he asks, like he can’t believe it. “yeah, of course.” “i don’t deserve your help.” “you do. please, let me.” there’s a slight hesitation before he speaks again. “okay. i won’t keep you long. i don’t want to be a burden.” “you’re not,” you assure him. “give me an hour and i’ll be there.”

as soon as you reach his place, you knock lightly, your heart hammering in your chest. the door creaks open a few seconds later. he looks awful. his eyes are red and swollen, his hair messy. he’s in a hoodie that hangs loosely on his frame, and the exhaustion in his face makes him look smaller. for a moment, neither of you move. no words are exchanged. then, without overanalyzing, you step forward and wrap your arms around him. he tenses at first, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he just… melts. his arms tighten around you, his face burying into your shoulder as his body shakes. and then, quietly, he starts crying. you feel his tears soak into your shirt but you don’t pull away. you just hold him, one hand running soothingly over his back.

you spend the entire summer trying to pull seunghyun out of the darkness he’s buried himself in. he barely leaves his house, barely eats unless you remind him, barely sleeps. and you can’t stand it. you can’t stand seeing him like this—so broken. so you do what you can. you show up. every single day. some days, it’s just sitting with him in comfortable silence, letting him exist without forcing him to talk. other days, you try to drag him outside, finding little excuses to get him moving. “come on,” you tell him one afternoon, standing in his living room with your hands on your hips. “let’s go get ice cream.” he’s curled up on the couch, hood pulled over his head, despite the unbearable heat outside. you’re not surprised—he once told you he likes to be covered up. “i’m good,” he mumbles, not even looking at you. you roll your eyes and walk over, grabbing the hood and yanking it off. “no, you’re not, liar. you haven’t left this room in days. come on, seunghyun. you love ice cream.” he sighs, rubbing his face. “i’m not in the mood.” “that’s exactly why we’re going.” you grab his arm, pulling until he finally gets up.

one day you even made him dance with you. it was late, music playing softly from your speakers. you were already swaying to the beat, grinning at him from across the room. “come on, dance with me.” he scoffed, arms crossed. “yeah, no.” “why not?” “because i don’t dance.” you rolled your eyes. “don’t lie. you literally have like five videos on instagram of you dancing in front of your mirror.” “that’s different,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze. “is it?” you raised an eyebrow. “what about that time you started dancing in the middle of the crosswalk because that one guy’s car stereo was blasting usher?” he tried to suppress a smile, but failed. “okay, that doesn’t count either. i was just being silly.” “be silly with me now, then. everyone dances, hyun.” you stepped closer and grabbed his wrists, trying to tug him away from the wall. he resisted at first, feet planted like a grumpy little kid, but you didn’t let up. until finally, with a dramatic sigh, he let you pull him toward the center of the room. “this is dumb,” he grumbled. “you’re dumb,” you shot back. “just move.” at first he was stiff, awkward, his shoulders tense and eyes focused anywhere but on you. but you didn’t care. you kept swaying, guiding him with a light grip and a grin, your voice humming along with the music. and slowly he loosened up. just a little. “see? not so bad.” he let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, his eyes flicking down to you, soft around the edges. like he wanted to argue, but didn’t have it in him. not when it was you.

eventually, he started coming back to himself. making jokes like he used to. but the first time you heard his real laugh again, after months, it nearly made you jump out of your seat. it happened at his house. you were sprawled out on his couch, flipping through a magazine, when you made an offhand comment about his wardrobe. “you literally have like three hoodies. and you wear them every day.” “rude,” he said flatly. “i have five.” you snorted. “right. and they all look exactly the same.” “it’s called having a brand.” “your brand is sad boy chic.” he tried to hold it in, pressing his lips together like that would stop it—but the laugh still slipped out. your eyes widened. “oh my god.” you sat up, staring at him. “are you laughing?” he shook his head, even as his mouth twitched up. “i’m not.” and then another chuckle escaped. your grin stretched wide. “you are!” he groaned, running a hand down his face. “shut up.”

one evening, you’re both out on his balcony, the sun just having dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of deep orange and purple in the sky. the air is warm but cooling down, the distant hum of the city below mixing with the occasional rustling of leaves. seunghyun leans against the railing, cigarette between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. he takes a slow drag, exhaling the smoke into the evening air before wordlessly handing it to you. you hesitate for half a second before taking it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling just enough for the burn to settle in your lungs. you pass it back, watching as he taps the ash over the edge of the railing, gaze distant. he hasn’t said much in the past few minutes, which isn’t unusual, but there’s something about his silence that feels different. after a while, he sighs. “i need to tell you something.” you straighten a little, looking at him. “what is it?” “i think… i think i owe you an explanation,” he says. your stomach tightens. you know exactly what he means. “you don’t have to,” you reply, even though you’ve spent months dying to know. “i wasn’t honest with you back then. and… i want to be.” he pauses, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, gaze fixed on the darkened skyline. “the reason i… the reason i stopped talking to you is because—” he hesitates, jaw clenching. “because i liked you,” he finally says. your breath catches. “what?” he turns his head slightly, just enough to glance at you. “i liked you. as more than a friend.” but even now, standing here with the truth hanging between you, he knows he’s still holding back. liked—he said it like it was past tense, like it was something he’d moved on from. but that’s a lie. he still does. you don’t know what to say. don’t even know what to feel. “seunghyun…” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i had a girlfriend. you had a boyfriend… well, you still do.” his voice drops at that last part. he clears his throat, looking away again. “i loved her. and it was wrong. so i told myself that those feelings for you would go away if i put enough space between us.” your fingers tighten around the railing. your voice is barely above a whisper when you ask, “did it work?” “no.”

silence settles between you. you want to admit it, too. that you felt the same thing. but where would that even get you? you’re still in a relationship. and you love your boyfriend (at least that’s what you tell yourself…) you know better. you can’t complicate things again now. so instead, you force yourself to ask, “why are you telling me this, hyun?” he frowns. “i don’t know, i just—i thought you should know.” he pauses. “i’m sorry for disappearing like that.” “it’s okay—” “no, it’s not.” he sighs. “i shouldn’t have… i shouldn’t have cut you off. i hurt you and you didn’t deserve that.” the guilt has been sitting in his chest for so long, pressing down on him every time he thought about you—which was always. you know you should be angrier, that you should make him sit with the weight of what he did a little longer. but the truth is, you missed him. you missed him so much it ached. “yeah,” you say quietly, “you did hurt me. but i get it, hyun.” he frowns slightly. “you were confused. and scared.” and you know that, because that’s exactly how you felt too. “but that doesn’t justify—” “seunghyun.” you cut off, shaking your head. “no it doesn’t justify it, but you apologized. i forgive you. it’s okay. don’t be—don’t be hard on yourself.” oh man. he wonders what he did in another life to deserve you being so good to him in this one. “i’m sorry too,” you continue with a smile tugging at your lips. “for snapping at you all the time in class.” he lets out a small laugh. “it’s okay,” he replies, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “i thought it was kinda cute.” “cute?” you snort. “yeah. but don’t worry,” he says, forcing a smirk, like he’s trying to play it off. “it’s in the past. we’re good friends.” and for some reason, that stings.

summer ends before you even realize it. the warmth starts to fade, the days growing shorter, the air losing its heaviness. you’re back on campus, slipping into the routine of lectures and assignments. but everything shifts—just a few days into the new academic year, it all comes crashing down. the fight with your boyfriend starts like any other argument. but then, somewhere in the middle of it, he snaps. says something he can’t take back. something that makes your stomach drop. he’s slept with multiple girls behind your back. you don’t remember what you said after that. don’t remember how the argument ended. all you know is that it’s over. and now, somehow, the tables have turned. it’s seunghyun showing up at your door this time, no hesitation in his eyes when he pulls you into a hug the second he sees your face. it’s him dragging you out of your house when you don’t want to move, sitting with you in coffee shops and parks and anywhere that isn’t your room, distracting you with dumb jokes and conversations about nothing. it’s him texting you at random hours, u good? or let’s go get food or just a simple i’m outside when you need it the most. he doesn’t push you to talk. doesn’t force you to open up. he just stays—sits beside you when you don’t feel like speaking, lets you cry when you need to. and slowly, piece by piece, he starts pulling you back together.

by the time october rolls around, you’re a new person. the heartbreak doesn’t sting anymore, the anger has dulled, and you’re genuinely happy after what feels like a lifetime. seunghyun has a lot to do with that. and maybe that’s why, when the invitation for a halloween party from some classmates rolls in, it doesn’t feel so strange that you and seunghyun are each other’s default plus-one. the house is packed, every room overflowing with people. music booms from the speakers, the bass so heavy it vibrates through the floor, making the half-empty bottles on the kitchen counter tremble. laughter and shouting fill the space, blending with the music, with the sound of ice clinking in cups, with the occasional crash of something breaking followed by a drunken chorus of “ooohhh!” you and seunghyun arrive together, dressed in matching costumes—him as an astronaut, you as the moon. your dress is a soft, silvery white, made of a flowing fabric that shimmers with every step, catching the dim party lights. the bodice is scattered with tiny embroidered stars, and the skirt has a subtle iridescence, shifting between silver and pale blue as you move. your jewelry is just as delicate—dangling earrings shaped like crescent moons. atop your hair sits a headband, adorned with silver moons and twinkling stars. seunghyun had grinned when he saw you, adjusting the nasa patch on his astronaut suit before reaching out to spin you in place.

you don’t separate when you step inside. instead, his hand stays on the small of your back. someone shoves drinks into your hands the second you reach the kitchen—something bright and sugary, probably way too strong—but neither of you mind. a group is playing beer pong in the living room, another is huddled around a tiny table, laughing over some drinking game with cards. in the corner, someone’s passed out in a vampire cape, an empty bowl of candy resting on their lap. the night moves in a blur. you and seunghyun barely leave each other’s side, moving together through the party, dancing till his hair starts sticking to his forehead from sweat. between songs, you weave through the party together, stopping to talk to friends, laughing at half-drunken conversations, clinking cups and playing games. someone compliments your matching costumes, and seunghyun just grins, tugging playfully at the fabric of your dress. “told you we’d have the best costumes. i mean, what’s an astronaut without his moon?”

eventually, the heat and the crowd become too much, and seunghyun leans in close, voice just loud enough over the music. “let’s go outside for a bit.” you follow him through the packed room and out the back door, the chilly night air biting at your skin. the backyard is quiet compared to the chaos inside, just the faint murmur of distant conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. seunghyun pulls a cigarette from his pocket, then offers you one without a word. you take it, watching as he lights his first, the glow flickering against his face before he leans in to light yours. you take a slow drag before exhaling. “having fun?” he asks. you smirk. “define fun.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “you took more shots than me earlier. you’re definitely drunk.” “tipsy,” you correct, nudging him with your elbow. “big difference.” he hums in response, taking a drag of his own. for a moment, there’s only silence, the two of you standing side by side, watching the way the smoke curls into the cold air. “the party is actually good,” he says. “way better than i expected. i was killing it at beer pong.” “you lost.” “okay, but it was a close game.” you shake your head, laughing. “so this is a ten out of ten night for you?” “pretty much,” he grins. “good music, free booze, and…” he hesitates for a second before saying, “you. what more could i want?” you feel warmth creep up your neck, but you keep your expression neutral, taking a slow drag of your cigarette. “drunk flirty hyun… that’s new.” he scoffs, shaking his head. “that wasn’t—” he starts, but then he stops, like he realizes mid-sentence that there’s no point in denying it. instead, he exhales, flicking ash off his cigarette. “i was just being honest.” he takes another drag, exhaling slowly after, watching the way the smoke drifts into the cold air before his gaze drifts back to you. he’s so screwed. because you’re smiling, the glow of the party lights casting this ridiculous golden halo around you. your lips are glossy, your smile lifting your cheeks, making you look even cuter, and your hair—god, your hair—looks so soft he has to physically stop himself from reaching out and running his fingers through it. you’re beautiful. and he’s so stupidly in love. you turn to look at him, brows raising slightly. “what?” you ask, amusement flickering in your eyes. seunghyun blinks, realizing too late that he’s been staring. “nothing,” he says, a little too quickly, taking another drag of his cigarette like that’ll somehow make him look less obvious. you tilt your head, the corner of your lips quirking up. “you sure?” you press, watching him. seunghyun hesitates for half a second, then just smiles, soft and a little shy. “yeah. just… spaced out for a second.” “mhmm,” you hum, clearly unconvinced, but you don’t push. instead, you take another slow drag of your cigarette. after a moment, you flick the end of it away, stretching slightly. “wanna go back in?” he nods. “yeah.” “only if you take another shot with me.” seunghyun huffs a small laugh, shaking his head. “figured there was a catch.” “come on, hyun,” you grin, tugging at his sleeve. “just one more.” and he’s already moving, already following you back inside, because he’s so far gone for you it’s pathetic.

after a couple of hours, when the party starts to lose its spark and exhaustion settles in, he leans in, voice low near your ear. “you wanna head out?” you nod, stretching your arms with a yawn. “yeah, just need to grab my coat. left it in one of the rooms.” he doesn’t say anything, just follows when you turn to go. the house is still loud, music pulsing from the main room, but out here in the hallway, it’s quieter, the chatter more distant. you push open the door to a small room, stepping inside. your coat is draped over the back of a chair, right where you left it. seunghyun’s inside too, standing just a few steps away. you shake out your coat, ready to slip it on, but before you can, he steps closer. “here,” he offers, voice quieter now, more careful. “let me.”

you hesitate for half a second before nodding, handing it over. he takes it gently, holding it open as you slide your arms through the sleeves. his hands brush against your shoulders as he settles it into place, a touch so light it barely lingers, but it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. neither of you move right away. you can feel him behind you, his warmth, the way he still hasn’t stepped back. slowly, you turn to face him. his gaze flickers over you, taking you in like he’s memorizing every detail. then, so quietly it almost disappears into the space between you, he says, “do you wanna know what i was thinking before? when we were outside?” you hum in response, nodding slightly. “i was thinking… you’re beautiful. you’re so, so beautiful.” “you’re drunk,” you say, but it comes out quieter than you intended. he exhales a short laugh, shaking his head. “i know what i’m saying.” you hold his gaze, fingers curling inside your sleeves. “you sure?” you laugh softly. his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “yeah. it’s not a bad thing. thinking you’re beautiful… calling you beautiful.” his gaze flickers, dropping briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes. “you shouldn’t look at me like that,” you say. he steps just the slightest bit closer, gaze never leaving yours. “like what?” “like that,” you mutter, looking away. he’s quiet for a moment, then—“maybe you should stop looking at me like that, too.” your eyes snap back to his, heart pounding in your chest. “i’m not,” you argue, but it’s unconvincing. he smiles. “yes, you are.” you blink, heat spreading through your cheeks. “hyun…” you start, but the words catch in your throat. his smile lingers. “what?” “don’t do that.” “do what?” “act like you know what’s going on in my head.” his expression softens just slightly, but there’s something careful in the way he tilts his head, watching you. “don’t i?” of course he does. it’s infuriating, really, the way he can pick apart your thoughts without you saying a word. his eyes search yours, and then, he studies you for a long moment, like he’s trying to decide if he should even say what he’s about to say at all. but the words escape his lips before he can stop them. “i still have feelings for you.” “hyun—” “they never went away,” he cuts in. “you never noticed?” “i don’t—i don’t know.” “i thought you did,” he murmurs. “sometimes, it felt like you did. but maybe i was just seeing what i wanted to see.” he pauses. “sorry, i don’t want to make things weird, i know the breakup is recent for you, i just—i needed to say it,” his voice is quieter now, like he’s already made peace with whatever answer he thinks is coming. you glance up at him and he looks like he’s already preparing himself for the worst. and that’s what does it. that’s what makes the words slip past your lips before you can overthink them. “i… i do too.” “what?” “i have feelings for you too,” you say. “for a while now.” his expression softens, something flickering in his gaze—relief. “really?” “mhm.” you nod with a shy smile.

he exhales, like he’s been holding in the breath this whole time. and then, before you can process it, he takes a step closer, hand reaching up to brush against your cheek, gentle. your breath stutters as his face inches closer, his eyes flickering to your lips, giving you time to pull away if you want to. but you don’t. except, just as his lips nearly graze yours, panic flares in your chest, and you instinctively turn your head. “wait—” he freezes immediately, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “oh. sorry. too fast?” “no, no.” “what’s wrong?” you press your lips together. “i just… i haven’t kissed anyone other than my ex before.” your voice is small, embarrassed. “i don’t know—i don’t know how to do this. i’m nervous.” his brows lift slightly before a small smile tugs at his lips, understanding. “you think i have?” “what?” “you’re the only person i’ve liked other than my ex. i haven’t kissed anyone either.” the confession eases some of the nerves coiled in your stomach. “it’s okay to be nervous,” he says softly. “we don’t have to rush anything.”

you chew on your bottom lip. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel a little braver. seunghyun hesitates, then asks, “do you want to try?” he’s waiting—patient, not pushing, just letting you decide. and that just makes you want it more. “yes.” your voice is quiet. “i want to try.” his lips twitch up in a small smile, and he nods once. his gaze dips to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, waiting for you to make the first move. you take a shaky breath before you lean in. it’s barely a kiss, just the softest press of your lips against his. you pull back almost immediately, nerves sparking in your chest. he stays close, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at each other. “you okay?” he murmurs. you nod quickly, cheeks burning. “yeah.” a small, shy smile on your lips. his own smile widens just a little. “can we—can we try again?” you whisper. this time, when you lean in, he meets you halfway. the second kiss is different. his lips fit against yours like they were always meant to. you feel his hand slide to the curve of your jaw, his thumb brushing your skin so delicately that it makes your stomach flip. your fingers find the fabric of his costume, curling slightly as you let yourself lean into him, let yourself fall into the moment. the kiss deepens naturally, neither of you rushing, just learning each other in quiet, stolen seconds. he tilts his head slightly, and the shift makes it even better—your lips molding together, the warmth of him surrounding you. his nose brushes against yours as you part. your lashes flutter open, meeting his gaze. “was that okay?” he murmurs. you let out a breathless laugh, nodding. “more than okay.” “good.” he laughs too.

you spend more time with each other after that night, if that’s even possible. it becomes routine. you wake up expecting to see him at some point in the day. if you don’t, it feels off, like something’s missing. sometimes, you’ll spend hours together without saying much, just existing in the same space. other times you’ll talk for hours, trading secrets you’ve never told anyone, laughing until your stomachs hurt. seunghyun is so in love. oh, so in love… sometimes, when he’s lying awake at night, staring at his ceiling, he feels almost angry at himself—for waiting so long, for not realizing sooner. he thinks about the time he wasted, stuck in something that was never meant to last, convincing himself that love was supposed to be hard, that it was supposed to be painful and exhausting. but with you, it’s so fucking easy. he’s starting to believe what people say. first love is beautiful, sure. but second love? second love is real. second love is unforgettable. seunghyun is down bad. your presence alone is enough to set every nerve in his body on fire. and when you laugh—god, when you laugh—he thinks he could live off that sound alone. and maybe it’s crazy, but sometimes, he finds himself thinking—this is it, isn’t it? this is the kind of love people write about. he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that no one—not his first love, not anyone—has ever made him feel like this. he’s never felt love like this before. but he never wants to go another day without it. without you.

the way you kiss him it’s intoxicating. seunghyun has kissed before, obviously. with you, it’s different. because when you do, slow, like you’re savoring every second, it makes his head spin more than anything else ever has. because the way you pull back just to look at him, eyes flickering between his—your hands on him, like you need to be touching him—makes his chest ache in the best way. makes him feel like the most important person in the world. sometimes, it starts soft, just a lingering press of lips. other times, it’s urgent. but you don’t push for more, and neither does he. not because you don’t want to, but because that’s already enough.

that’s why he doesn’t expect that, one day, while you’re making out on his couch, you straddle him—your knees pressing into the couch on either side of him, your hands settling on his shoulders. and seunghyun? he forgets how to breathe. his brain short-circuits. like, completely shuts down. his hands hover awkwardly at your waist, fingers twitching, unsure if he should actually touch you or just die right then and there. because holy shit. you don’t seem to notice his internal crisis, too caught up in the moment, too focused on the way his lips and tongue move against yours. but he notices—notices the way your body presses flush against his, the way your weight settles onto his lap, the way your fingers thread into his hair, tugging slightly. his self-control? hanging by a thread. your breath is uneven when you pull back to meet his gaze, your lips a little swollen. “is this okay?” you ask, voice soft. he exhales, hands smoothing over your waist. “yeah,” he breathes. “is it okay for you?” “mhm,” you nod.

you kiss him again, and this time, it’s different. it’s charged. seunghyun feels it in the way your hands slide from his shoulders to the nape of his neck. he feels it in the way your lips move against his. but most of all, he feels it when you shift in his lap, pressing down. just the slightest movement. he inhales sharply, his grip on your waist tightening as his body tenses beneath you. it’s not even really a movement, more of a hesitant roll of your hips against his, but fuck, it sends heat straight to the bulge in his pants. his brain barely has time to process what’s happening before you do it again. this time, he can’t stop the quiet groan that slips past his lips, low and almost pained, his hands digging into your hips on instinct.

he lets you. lets you move against him however you want, lets himself feel you. your movements start slow, almost experimental, like you’re figuring this out as you go, like you’re getting used to the feel of him beneath you. but when you find a rhythm—when you finally press against him fully, rolling your hips down just right—oh boy. his head tips back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut, a shaky breath slipping past his lips. he’s done for. you lean in, pressing a kiss just under his jaw, and he groans, low in his throat, his hands sliding down to squeeze your ass like he’s trying to keep himself together. “fuck,” he mutters, half to himself, half to you. “you’re gonna kill me.” you smile against his skin, and it’s unfair, so unfair, because you know what you’re doing to him. you know, and you keep going. the friction is perfect—every movement sending a pulse of heat through his body, enough to drive him crazy, enough to have his dick twitching in his pants.

his breathing comes out in short, uneven gasps as he grits his teeth, trying to hold on, trying to stay in control. but he can’t. because the way you sound—soft, breathy little moans escaping your lips—paired with the friction of you against him? it’s too fucking much. he’s already so close, already on the edge before he even realizes it. and when you press down just right, his stomach tightens. “shit—!” his whole body tenses as the pleasure hits him, crashing over him before he can stop it. his breath catches in his throat, a choked moan slipping past his lips, his fingers gripping your ass hard. he stills completely, chest rising and falling against yours, and it takes a second before he realizes what just happened. he ruined his pants. fuck. his face burns as the reality sets in. you blink at him, confused at first, before realization dawns in your expression. “oh.” seunghyun groans, tilting his head back, dragging his hands down his face, mortified. “don’t.” his voice is muffled against his palms. “don’t say anything.” but it’s too late. you giggle, and that just makes his ears go even redder. you lean in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and whisper, “cute.” “i’m sorry,” he says, embarrassed. “it’s okay, baby,” you giggle again. after a moment, he laughs too.

the physical side of your relationship isn’t something either of you are shying away from anymore. the kisses get longer. deeper. and there’s more touching now. it starts happening more often, too. you’re figuring each other out, taking your time. memorizing the way each other moves, the way each other reacts. you’re learning him, and he’s learning you.

it’s natural that you start wanting more. that’s why, one night, late in his room, you find yourself lying beneath him, bodies tangled in his sheets. hands are everywhere. his lips leave yours only to trail down your jaw, down your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. he loves this—loves the way you shiver, loves the way your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly when he nips at the sensitive spot just below your ear. “seunghyun,” you breathe, and he swears he could die happy right now. his hands slide lower, fingers on your right thigh. you shift beneath him, pressing closer, sighing when his hand finally trails higher. his fingers move along the fabric between your legs. his touch featherlight, barely-there, but still enough to make you squirm. oh lord jesus, he nearly loses it right there. “you’re so fucking pretty,” he mutters against your skin. “my pretty, pretty girl.” you’re warm and soft, reacting to every little touch, every slow drag of his fingers. he can feel your heartbeat beneath his mouth as he kisses along your throat, your chest rising and falling a little too fast. his own breathing is just as uneven as yours now. he’s so hard it’s almost embarrassing. “tell me what you want, baby,” he murmurs. “i’ll give you anything, just—” “touch me, seunghyun,” you say softly. oh, you don’t need to tell him twice! he unbuttons your pants, sliding them down slowly. his fingers hook into the waistband, knuckles brushing against your hips as he tugs the fabric down, past your thighs, past your knees, until they’re bunched at your ankles. he takes his time pulling them off completely. his fingers slip beneath the thin fabric of your underwear next, dragging them down until they’re gone.

his hand goes right back where you want it. two of his fingers slide against you, teasing. feeling exactly how wet you are for him. the way your juices coat his fingertips, makes him groan, the sound vibrating low in his throat. his thumb drags over your clit, rubbing slow circles, and the reaction is immediate—your breath catches, your thighs twitch and your hips jerk slightly, a soft moan escaping your lips. oh that sound… his cock throbs in his jeans. “tell me if it’s too much. or if you want more.” your response comes fast—a shaky, desperate whisper. “more.” you beg, voice trembling. “more, seunghyun.” “more what, baby?” he teases, his thumb still working your clit. you whimper. “y-your fingers.” he chuckles softly, one of his fingers gently parting your folds before he pushes it in, sinking into your pussy with no resistance. “like this?” you nod, biting your lip. he begins pumping his finger slowly in and out and your breath comes faster, mingling with the wet sounds of his finger fucking you. when he adds another finger, your hands grip his arms, trying to hold onto something. he watches you, completely transfixed by how beautiful you look right now—lips parted, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “that feel good, hm?” he asks as he curls his fingers inside you, pressing against that one spot “y-yes! o-oh my—!” so he gives you more. his fingers thrust deeper and faster, curling just right, and your moans turn into whimpers. your thighs tremble and seunghyun can feel how close you are, how your body is tensing, your gummy walls squeezing his fingers. “hyun, i-i’m—i’m gonna—!” “i know, baby… give it to me.” one more thrust of his fingers, one more firm stroke of his thumb against your clit and your back arches—a sharp, desperate moan spilling from your lips—your body shuddering, clenching down around his fingers. he gives you a moment to catch your breath before he leans in. he presses a kiss to your forehead. “next time,” he murmurs against your skin, pressing another kiss, “i’m using my mouth.”

and he keeps his promise! it happens on a lazy sunday morning, right before your scheduled museum date. he shows up at your place a few minutes early, too excited to see you, too impatient to wait. maybe he had good intentions, but the second he sees you in that dress… he almost wishes to be a father. because what the fuck—you just look so good. soft and pretty, hair still slightly messy from getting ready in a rush, your perfume fresh in the air… his hands are on you before he even realizes it, pulling you in by the waist. you blink up at him, confused at first, lips parted, breath hitching slightly at the way he’s looking at you. that man is hungry. and he shows it with his kisses. “we—” you try to speak in between them. “we’re gonna be late—” “don’t care, i wanna taste you,” he mutters against your lips, hands sliding beneath the hem of your dress. “can i?”

and not even three minutes later, his head is buried between your thighs, his grip firm as he holds you in place. the first taste of you nearly ruins him—his low groan vibrating against your skin as his tongue works with a hunger that borders on desperate. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging when he flattens his tongue against you. “s-seunghyun!” you moan loudly. music to his ears. he loves the way you whimper, the way your body shudders when he flicks your clit with his tongue, then sucking it just enough to make your thighs tremble. his grip on them is borderline bruising, but you don’t care—not when he’s got his mouth on you like this. “fuck, you taste so good,” he mutters against you, breath hot, voice thick with need. “so fuckin’ sweet.” “y-you always this needy?” you manage to tease, but your voice is shaky. he chuckles. “says the one trying to suffocate me with her thighs.” you open your mouth to fire back, but he circles your clit with his tongue, and whatever you were about to say turns into a sharp gasp. he grins against you, pleased with himself. and god, you’re already so close. he can feel it in the way your body tenses, the way your legs try to close around his head, the way your breath stutters into these soft, broken little moans. but he’s not done. he slides one hand up, fingers teasing at your entrance before slowly sliding inside. “fuck! f-fuck, hyun!” you cry from pleasure. “yes—ngh!—y-yes, baby, just like that! just like that!” your whole body jerks as his fingers move in perfect rhythm, tongue working you over even faster. “c’mon, baby,” he coaxes, pulling away just for a moment. “be good for me.” and that’s it. you choke on a moan, back arching as pleasure crashes through you. you cum on his tongue and he works you through it. licking and sucking even when your thighs shake. and when you try to pull away from the overstimulation, he doesn’t let up—not until he’s sure he’s gotten every last drop of it. finally, he pulls back, lips slick, eyes dark as he looks up at you, taking in the mess he’s made of you. he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking before crawling up to press soft kisses to your jaw, your cheeks, the corner of your lips—gentle, like he’s trying to bring you back down. “you okay?” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “mhm,” you nod, still breathless. “yeah… just feel like jello.” he chuckles. “you’re so cute.” there’s something soft in the way he’s looking at you. your heart stutters, warmth blooming in your chest. “you’re such a sap,” you tease. he just grins, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “only for you.”

when valentine’s day rolls around, seunghyun makes sure you have the best one yet. he remembers—of course, he does—how you once mentioned that your ex never really cared about it, brushing off the day like it meant nothing. seunghyun, though, he isn’t like that. so when you walk through the door after a long day at university, you almost miss it at first. your brain is too tired to register the burst of color sitting on the living room table. but then, your eyes land on it, and for a second, you think you’ve walked into the wrong place. a massive bouquet of flowers sits right in the center, petals soft and vibrant like they belong in a fairytale. two—no, three—boxes of chocolate are stacked neatly beside it, ribbons tied in perfect bows. you blink, then blink again. “what the…” you murmur, stepping closer, fingertips grazing the velvety petals. there’s a small note tucked between the stems, and when you pull it out, your lips part into a slow, disbelieving smile. ‘because you deserve to be spoiled. i’ll pick you up for dinner (make sure to wear that beautiful smile of yours). happy valentine’s day, baby. — your hyun.’ you don’t even realize you’re smiling so hard until your cheeks start to hurt. warmth spreads through your chest, making you feel a little ridiculous, a little too giddy, but you don’t care. grabbing your phone, you call him immediately. “hi, baby—” “you’re insane,” you cut in, still staring at the bouquet. “this is—seunghyun, what the fuck?” his soft chuckle comes through the speaker, warm and just a little shy. “so, you liked it?” “liked it?” you echo, shaking your head. “i love it. i—how did you even—when did you—ugh. you didn’t have to, baby.” “i wanted to. your parents helped me set it up.” his voice is so sure, so simple, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and maybe it is—to him, at least. “thank you.” your fingers play with the edge of the little note, eyes flicking over the words again. “did you read the note?” he asks. “yeah,” you nod, even though he can’t see you. “i read it. where are you taking me?” “surprise.” “hyun—” “you’ll see later.” “i need to know so that i can—” “huh? wait—hold on, i think you’re cutting out.” his voice suddenly sounds distant, like he’s holding the phone away from his mouth. “hello? can you hear me?” you narrow your eyes. “don’t even start.” “ah, damn. i think my signal’s bad.” he makes a few static noises with his mouth, so ridiculously fake you almost drop your phone from laughing. “you’re a dork, you know that?” more static—or at least his sad attempt at it. “what? i—i can’t—losing connection—” “seunghyun, you’re literally at home.” he clears his throat. “gotta go, baby, see you at seven!” the call ends before you can say another word. you stare at your screen, completely unimpressed, but also grinning like an idiot. he’s gonna be the end of you.

he takes you to one of the fanciest restaurants you’ve ever been in, which makes you wonder how the hell he managed to afford all this. but knowing him, he’s probably been saving up for weeks, quietly planning everything down to the last detail. dinner feels like time slowing down in the best way. seunghyun watches you more than he eats, eyes crinkling whenever you ramble about something or get too caught up in telling a story. and when the check comes, you barely get the chance to reach for your purse before seunghyun is already handing over his card, like every time you go out. stepping outside, the cool air wraps around you, crisp and refreshing after the warmth of the restaurant. seunghyun is close beside you, his hand brushing against yours before he finally just takes it, fingers slotting together. you squeeze his hand lightly, glancing up at him, but he’s already looking at you, eyes soft under the glow of the city lights.

as you settle into the car, seunghyun doesn’t start the engine right away. instead, he reaches into the pocket of his coat. you stare at him, curious, but before you can ask, he pulls out a small, velvet box and holds it out to you. “i got you something,” he smiles, voice a little quieter than usual. “what—? hyun—” “shh, let me spoil you,” he chuckles. your fingers hesitate for a second before you take it, the soft material cool against your palm. your chest tightens slightly as you flip it open, revealing a delicate necklace inside. the pendant is small, understated, but beautiful—exactly the kind of thing you’d pick for yourself. you exhale, running your thumb over the tiny charm. “oh my—i love it!” “i saw it and thought of you.” “it’s perfect, baby. thank you.” his lips twitch into a small smile. “let me put it on you.” you turn slightly, gathering your hair to one side as he takes the necklace from the box. he fastens it behind your neck, his fingers brushing lightly along the back of your shoulder. he lingers, adjusting the clasp, making sure it sits just right before letting his hands drop. you glance down, fingertips brushing over the pendant as a soft smile tugs at your lips. seunghyun leans back slightly, eyes flickering over you before settling on your face. “my pretty, pretty, pretty girl.” you shake your head with a small laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “okay, your turn.” his brows furrow slightly. “my turn?” you reach into your bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package before placing it in his hands. “yeah. you didn’t think you were the only one with surprises tonight, did you?” “you got me something?” he’s not used to being on the receiving end of surprises. “of course, i did,” you say, handing it to him. “now, open it.”

as soon as the paper wrapper falls away, his expression shifts. a hardcover book with a deep, star-speckled cover. his fingers graze over the title—the art of the cosmos—a collection of celestial-inspired artwork, paintings, sculptures, and photography, all centered around space. he flips through the pages slowly, carefully, eyes taking in the images of galaxies captured in oil paint, nebulas carved into stone, planets sculpted from glass. “i know how much you love space,” you say, watching his reaction closely. “and art, of course. so… i wanted you to have something that combined the two things you love the most, something that feels like you. it’s not—it’s not as fancy as… everything that you’ve prepared but—” before you can finish, seunghyun leans in, pressing his lips to yours. when he finally pulls away, he stays close, forehead barely an inch from yours. “don’t ever say that again.” “say what?” “that it’s not—” he exhales, shaking his head. “you could’ve given me a damn rock, and i’d still love it because it’s from you.” your heart stumbles a little, and you let out a soft laugh. “this is perfect, baby,” he says, flipping through the pages again. “you’re really the best.” you smile, watching the way his eyes soften as he takes in every detail. “i’m just glad you like it.” he sets the book down carefully on the dashboard before turning fully toward you.

he smiles, but there’s something behind it—something hesitant, like he’s trying to work up the courage to say something else. his knee bounces slightly, and his fingers tap against his thigh, a sign that there’s more on his mind. you tilt your head. “what?” he exhales sharply, shaking his head before letting out a soft laugh. “nothing, just…” he looks down at your hand resting between you, then, as if on instinct, reaches for it. he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, staring at your joined hands for a second before finally speaking. “let me be your boyfriend,” he says. “i know we haven’t really put a name on what this is, but i want to. i want you. i don’t want there to be any doubt about where we stand.” you must’ve started smiling like an absolute idiot because the second he sees it, he starts smiling too. “seunghyun, you’ve been my boyfriend in my head for months now,” you laugh, shaking you head. “so… that’s a yes?” “of course it’s a yes!” without giving him time to react, you press a quick, fleeting kiss to his lips. but before you can even pull away, seunghyun tugs you back in, kissing you with a much deeper intensity. your lips part instinctively, letting him in, his tongue gliding against yours. your fingers find his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, thumb brushing gently over his cheek as you do everything in your power to keep from moaning into his mouth. he’s such a good kisser… his lips hot and soft against yours, tilting his head so that you fit just right… his lips leave yours only to trail along the corner of your mouth, before sliding down to your jaw. he takes his time, lingering there, and then he makes his way down. his face buries into the crook of your neck for a moment, and you can feel his smile against your skin. you run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck before pulling back just enough to look at him. “i love you,” he says. your lips part slightly, something swelling in your chest so big it almost hurts, and then you’re smiling. “i love you too, hyun.”

you can’t lie—loving seunghyun is kind of terrifying. not in a bad way, not in the he’s going to hurt me kind of way, but in the this is real and i don’t want to mess it up way. you’ve both been through it. cheated on, strung along, left to piece together whatever crumbs of affection your exes were willing to throw your way. it’s hard to unlearn that, hard to trust that someone wants you without expecting you to beg for it. and even though this is different—he’s different—it’s hard to shake the nerves, the fear that if you let yourself have this, really have it, something will go wrong. maybe that’s why, even now, after a long, perfect night, when you’re curled up with him on the couch, a movie playing but barely holding your attention, you still feel jittery. and when things start heating up (like they usually do) you feel embarrassingly new to it all. like you’re back at square one. like you’re a virgin all over again. “you’re shaking,” says seunghyun quietly, breath shuddering when his condom-wrapped tip presses slightly against your entrance. “we don’t have to do this—“ “i want to,” you reassure him. “i really do. i’m just… nervous.” intimacy can be scary, especially when it’s with someone new. “i know, baby. me too,” he admits. “i’ll go slow. just hold onto me.” so you do. your hands find his arms, gripping them lightly as he hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours. “kiss me,” you whisper. he smiles before he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. then, as he moves, as he pushes into you, a sharp gasp escapes your lips, breaking the kiss. your fingers tighten around his arms, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you adjust to the stretch, the way he fills you so completely. he’s holding himself back, he’s trying to let you set the pace. his lips brush against your jaw pressing soft kisses on your skin before he kisses the side of your neck. “hyun… you—” your words falter as he presses in deeper, your back arching instinctively. “shit! you feel so good.” “tell me what you need, baby,” he says. your body already knows the answer before your lips do. you move your hips slightly, urging him deeper, making him exhale. “deeper,” you reply. “and faster. please.”

the room turns into a mess—moans, heavy breathing, the sharp slap of skin against skin. seunghyun’s fucking into you like he’ll never get another chance, and all you can do is take it, legs wrapped tight around his waist, nails dragging down his back as he fills you over and over again. he leans in, mouth hot against your neck. “you like that, baby?” his teeth graze your skin before he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath your jaw. “y-yes!” he’s deep, so deep, hitting that perfect spot that makes your eyes roll back, your mouth falling open, too lost in the way he’s ruining you to say anything coherent. “can f-feel you squeezing me—a-ah! fuck, baby!” he moans. and the desperate sound you make back only seem to push him further, make him rougher. your body responds instinctively, meeting his thrusts, rolling your hips slightly against him. oh, fuck. oh, fuck, fuck, fuck. he’s barely holding it together as it is hearing you moan under him like that, but that thing you just did? it almost sends seunghyun to an early grave. his hips snap into you harder, completely abandoning whatever self-control he thought he had, grip tightening on your hips so hard he’s pretty sure he’s leaving marks. “shit!—h-hyun! ah, fuck! f-fuck, y-yeah! baby, mmph!” you sound so fucking good, all needy and breathless, and he wants to loop it in his brain forever, build a shrine to the way you just moaned his name like that. he knew sex with you would be good, but this? this is some life-altering, religious experience type shit.

the pleasure is intense, rolling through you in waves so strong it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you start feeling your orgasm build up in your lower stomach. seunghyun’s entire body is tight. muscles straining, his thrusts turning more desperate, more frantic, because he can feel how close you are, the way your thighs are shaking, the way your moans are turning higher, almost pleading. and fuck, he’s so close… but he needs to take you with him. his grip shifts, one hand sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. the second he rubs tight, messy circles over it, your whole body jerks beneath him, a gasp breaking from your lips. “that’s it, baby,” he breathes, “cum… cum with me.” your walls flutter around him, clenching so tight it nearly sends him into another dimension. and when you finally snap, it hits hard—your back arches, your thighs shake, and your moans are loud enough to make your neighbors hate you. thank god your parents aren’t home. seunghyun groans, slamming into you a few more times before he loses it, burying himself deep as he follows right after, cursing under his breath. for a second, all you can hear is the sound of your ragged breathing and the rapid thud of your heartbeat. his forehead drops against your shoulder, both of you still panting, his hands lazily running over your skin. his body feels wrecked in the best way, his mind still floating somewhere between reality and the aftershocks of the best orgasm he’s ever had. his lips press against your temple as your breathing slows. “come on, baby,” he murmurs. “let’s shower.” you groan in protest, making him chuckle. so fucking cute. he kisses your lips. “you wanna sleep like this?” he teases. you sigh dramatically, blinking up at him with that hazy, fucked-out look that makes his stomach clench. “fine, let’s go shower,” you laugh softly.

the bed is soft, the sheets cool against your skin as you sink into them, your body still warm from the shower. you barely have time to settle before seunghyun climbs in beside you, immediately pulling you against him. his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you close until your back is flush against his chest. his body is warm, solid, and when he exhales, you feel the slow, steady rise and fall of his breathing against your spine. one of his hands slips beneath the hem of your shirt—his shirt, really—his fingertips tracing patterns along your stomach. his lips press against the back of your neck, soft, before he nuzzles into you, his nose brushing against your hair. you smile, closing your eyes. nothing else has ever felt this right. your fingers move against his hand, barely tracing over his skin, and he hums in response, shifting slightly to bury his face further into your hair. “comfy?” he murmurs, voice lower now, sleepier. “mmhm.” you squeeze his hand, barely awake. “you?” he presses another kiss to the back of your neck. “always. i love you.” “i love you too,” you whisper. “sleep, baby.” and right before you drift off, you feel it—his lips pressing one last kiss to the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

two years have passed. but it doesn’t feel like two years. it feels like forever. like there was never a version of your life before him, only with him. when you sleep together, mornings always start the same: seunghyun wakes up first, but he never gets out of bed before you. instead, he buries his face into your neck, pressing lazy kisses against your skin until you finally stir. you’ve built a life together in these little rituals—the way he always holds your hand when you walk anywhere, the way you sit between his legs on the couch when you watch movies, your back pressed against his chest, his arms locked around your waist. the way he’ll randomly pull you onto his lap while he’s studying at his desk, murmuring “i concentrate better like this.” knowing damn well he doesn’t. and talking about studies… you two can barely focus, study sessions always turn into giggling messes where he pretends to be paying attention to his notes but spends half the time sneaking glances at you instead. cramming for exams together is another challenge, he makes flashcards and tries to quiz you, only for you to distract him by climbing onto his lap, trailing kisses down his neck until he groans and tosses the cards aside. you’re both exhausted half the time, pulling all-nighters with caffeine and takeout, but he’s there, and that makes it bearable.

you travel together, not often but enough—weekend getaways, road trips that always start with him in control of the music and end with you fighting over who gets to dj. there was the time you went to a cabin in the mountains, curled up by the fireplace with wine, the two of you getting way too competitive over board games. or that one chaotic trip where you completely missed your bus, got lost trying to find your hotel, and ended up walking for miles in the rain. you were so close to breaking down, but seunghyun just pulled you into a convenience store, bought you a hot drink, and said, “we’ll figure it out, baby. we’re together, that’s what matters.” and somehow, it turned into one of your favorite memories.

his mom adores you. always sends you food, always texts you on random days asking how you’re doing. one time, she pulled out his baby pictures, and now you will never let him live them down. his dad always cracks jokes about how he’s never seen seunghyun this soft before. your family adores him too, inevitably hyping him up for any polite gesture, since they’re not used to you having someone so nice by your side (your last boyfriend was a questionable human being…) they always gush about how sweet seunghyun is, how he takes such good care of you.

two years of love slipping into every part of your life—small, everyday things turning into your things. you have a shared playlist called ‘let me spill your coffee’. it’s a mix of songs you love, songs that remind him of you, and stupid meme songs he adds just to annoy you. the bookshelf in the corner of your room is overflowing, pictures of the two of you and a few stuffed animals he’s gifted you shoved in between. a small framed picture sits on the very top shelf, one from a winter night when the world outside was covered in snow. you’re bundled up in his scarf while he stands behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. there are tiny snowflakes caught in his hair, and even through the blur of the picture, you can tell he’s smiling. there’s a strip of photo booth pictures tucked behind a stuffed bear he won for you at a carnival. in the first frame, you’re both grinning wide; in the second, he’s caught off guard as you surprise him with a kiss on the cheek. by the third, he’s laughing, and in the last one, he’s holding your face between his hands, pressing his forehead to yours. another picture taken on your second new year’s eve together. you’re curled up next to him on the couch, confetti still in your hair. he’s looking at you instead of the camera, a small, stupidly in-love smile on his face. you hadn’t noticed it at first, but when you did, it made your chest ache in the best way. and then, tucked behind a row of books, there’s the oldest one of all. the very first picture you ever took together, when you were only friends. it’s a little blurry, the lighting terrible, but you remember everything about that day. how he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt. how you didn’t know then what you know now—that this would be the first of many.

above your bed, there’s a painting. one he made for you on your first anniversary. deep blues and purples, swirling together like a galaxy, with tiny flecks of gold scattered like stars. in the bottom corner, barely noticeable unless you look closely, he wrote ‘us’. you didn’t see it at first, but when you did, you nearly cried. the record player he bought you for your birthday sits by the window, a vinyl still on it from the last time he was over. and your toothbrush sits next to his in the cup by the sink. there’s also an extra charger on your nightstand—his, since he spends so much time at your house. there’s a worn-out polaroid tucked into the frame of your mirror, slightly bent at the edges from how many times you’ve taken it out to look at it. it’s your favorite picture of the two of you—summer night at the beach, your hair messy from the wind, his arm slung over your shoulders, both of you grinning like you have the entire world in your hands. because it felt like you did. and it still feels like you do. because somehow, even after all this time, nothing has faded. two years of love wrapped around your life, yet every touch, every glance, still feels like the first. and every single day, in a million different ways, you keep choosing each other.

i hope you enjoyed! thank you for reading <3

tag list: @kaerasti49

#choi seunghyun #Loveeeee

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

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nsfw alphabet!! starring: namgyu!!

warnings: smut, nsfw, yeah? it’s in the title!!

mentions of f!reader

a/n: brought to you by popular request!! speaking of requests, keep em coming! <3

☆彡

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he’ll help you clean up for sure, although purely in silence aside from the occasional ‘are you okay?’ never asks if he went to hard. he trusts you’ll tell him first if he’s overstepped a limit

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his: namgyu likes his mouth, more specifically his tongue! he knows he can suck a damn good hickey into your neck. he’s also proud of the fact that he can make you cum on his face, falling apart on his tongue

yours: tits tits tits. loves burying his face between em after a hard day, lips snagging a nipple to suck on as he gropes the other. he loves sucking on your tits and getting a handy at the same time

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this fucker lives for cumming on your face and taking a photo after. has a locked photo album full of your pretty face painted in his cum <3 bonus points if he can get a pic with his dick resting on your cheek because yea! he did that

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he needs you to top him but will never admit to it, bruises his fragile ego too much

when he’s left alone his own devices, he finds his hand fisting his cock with desperation, mind running wild with thoughts of you riding him. overstimulating him. fucking him for your own pleasure instead of his own!

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

definitely knows what he’s doing (knows where the clit is)

he’s had enough experience from banging baddies at club pentagon to know how to get someone off

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

bark bark, we got ourselves a doggystyle lover!!

loves gripping your hips and slamming into your cunt at a speed only he can control

face down, ass up, that’s the way namgyu likes to fuck!! goes crazy spanking you in the process until your ass is covered in bright red marks

if he’s feeling it, will pull out of you and cum on your ass and back

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

if you try and crack a joke while getting into it, namgyu actually gets mad

this leads to him shoving his fingers or cock down your throat to shut you up

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

namgyu doesn’t serve full bush, but he isn’t exactly trimmed neat either. keeps just enough fuzz to make your brain foggy when he’s shoving your face between his legs

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

most of the time he’s fucking you for his own pleasure, making himself cum before you do

after heavy fights, he’s like a changed man! he takes his time with you, savoring every sound you make, loving every inch of your body

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

namgyu enjoys making you watch him jack off

he has you situated on your knees in front of him as he pleases himself, looking down at you with a smirk “you wish you were touching me instead, don’t you?”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

cnc, i said what i said

thrives to watch you out of the corner of his eye, like an animal stalking its prey. can and will pounce on you whenever he feels like it and who are you to deny him!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

club bathroom stalls! slaps a hand over your mouth to keep your noises down as he’s giving you your first orgasm of the night

car sex! namgyu enjoys seeing the windows get all foggy, the scent of sex filling the car

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

if you’re challenging him to any sexual act, instantly dick hard.

that one trend to see who could go longer without touching the other? he’s painfully hard throughout the whole thing, playing the long game. when you cave first and whine for him to finally fuck you? he’s on you almost instantly

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

namgyu doesn’t fuck with impact play toys like paddles or whips. if he’s giving you pain, it’ll be from his own two hands and dick

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

prefers receiving more than giving! his favorite way to relax is with your warm loving mouth bobbing up and down on his dick

his head game is fire though, don’t get me wrong! he takes his time, learning how to flick his tongue in just the right way — combined with working his fingers into you — to make you see stars

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

namgyu likes it fast and rough. gets off on the sound of skin slapping together as he ruts into you!

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

always down for a quickie! needs at least four or five a week to stay alive.

when you’re both waiting for the delivery food to arrive, he’s slipping a hand into your pants, fingers eagerly finding their way to your clit

he turns it into a game, racing to make both of you finish before the food arrives

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

namgyu sticks to what he knows. if it isn’t broken, it doesn’t need fixing! however, he’s always open to new ideas if you bring them up!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

after three rounds, namgyu’s calling it a day. there’s always tomorrow to fuck your brains out!

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

doesn’t see the use for toys like vibrators and flashlights, y’all have each other!

keeps a set of handcuffs ready for when he’s in a more dominant mood though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

this little shit. if you’re the one to start teasing him, he’ll take it and multiply it tenfold before sending it back your way. he’s denying your orgasm for the nth time that night, basking in the way you cry out for him

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

has the most delicious moans ever but tries to hide them! when he’s chasing his own high, his grunts are music to your ears. not loud, but enough for you to hear and get excited from

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

one time when he was getting high with thanos, he started going through his hidden album of photos he has of you! namgyu totally forgot where he was and started jerking off, completely unaware that thanos was watching. thanos is scarred for life, never brought it up

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

8 inches, more lengthy than girthy. veiny

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

medium-high

needs to cum at least three times a week to keep his sanity

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

usually namgyu doesn’t sleep easily anyway, and it’s the same for after sex. if you fall asleep first, he’s spooning you, keeping an arm slung around you as he scrolls on his phone until he’s ready to sleep

if you’re also the type to not fall asleep after, he’s offering you a cigarette or a blunt to transition the mood into a smoke session

☆彡

thanks for tuning in! feedback is read and appreciated!

Tag List:

@namgyucat @dgaftilwedie @cybrasigilism @nuttybeans @miss-conjayniality @rohjaewonlvr @ffsjustletmesleep @allmyocsarebritish @namgyushands @celestialmatcha7 @preppyfella @princeofkhaenri-ah

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

Text

SUCK IT AND SEE

nam-gyu gets to have his way with you, but only on the condition that se-mi’s there.

nsfw. minors dni. c/w: se-mi x fem!reader x nam-gyu. threesome. fingering, handjob, oral, penetration. nam-gyu’s a creep. cucking(?). misogyny. pure filth. a/n: wrote ts at 2am not proofread at all hope it’s not dogshit sequel to girls on film

nam-gyu was determined to steal you from se-mi, whether it was fair or not. one day, during a hang-out at su-bong’s place, he corners you alone in the kitchen. his voice was low at your ear, taunting: “i know about your filthy page with se-mi. i’ll tell everyone.” but.. you don’t seem phased. you even pout, looking at him sympathetically. “if you wanted to get in my pants, nam-gyu, you could’ve just asked nicely.”

it surprised absolutely no one that nam-gyu wanted you. you’d have to be blind to ignore how often he’d practically eye-fuck you in front of the whole group. se-mi caught when his general dislike for her twisted into something darker, too. how his insults shifted into insinuating she was fucking you. she wouldn’t put it past him to have found your page, he seemed into that type of shit; so she didn’t even blink when you told her about the kitchen confrontation.

you asked se-mi first of course. you weren’t exactly exclusive, but neither of you had been seeing other people either, so you thought she should get a say. and well, she wasn’t exactly jumping with joy at having to share— but she could tell how much it’d mean to you (for whatever reason could possibly attract you to that tweaker..) se-mi had one condition: she has to be there. it was like a 30/70 ratio of her wanting to supervise in case he got too rough with you, and just being there because it’ll piss nam-gyu off.

and did. he almost went back on his chance, because the idea of se-mi being there was that much of a turn-off. but, he’s wanted you this bad, and he may not get a second offer. so he only agrees reluctantly.

these two barely glance in the other’s direction. nam-gyu starts to think you only did this to humiliate him, and se-mi’s wondering if she did something to piss you off and this is your revenge.

the foreplay’s awkward since both of them wouldn’t touch the other with a ten foot pole. they’re only here for you, after all. you beckon them to lay on either side of you. se-mi’s quick to smother your lips with hers before nam-gyu can. his mouth finds your neck instead, and he claims your breasts with both his hands.

their competition’s starts the moment the first noise slips from your mouth. they’re both convinced it was them who caused it, and try to prove that to the other. se-mi takes your bottom lip between her teeth while nam-gyu sucks a tender spot on your neck and you whine.

nam-gyu ruts his clothed boner against your thigh. you reach for him, and he moans into your neck as you close a palm around his shaft. at the same time you moan into se-mi’s mouth, her hand snaking under your panties in retaliation. her fingers are already slick with your arousal. nam-gyu can hear just how wet you are when se-mi curls her fingers in and out of your pussy. vying for your attention, he snatches your hand into his pants.

your mouth breaks from se-mi’s as you whine, hazy with her fingers rubbing little circles onto your clit. nam-gyu doesn’t waste a second in leaning over to kiss you before se-mi steals you away again. a noise escapes from his throat and into your mouth as you wrap a tight fist around his aching dick. you trade moans between hungry kisses. your hand’s jerking up and down over his length, and it’s an effort to hold back on cumming so soon when you’re whining like this on his tongue.

meanwhile, se-mi’s dragging her own over your chest, swirling it on your nipples and trailing kisses down to your crotch. she peels off your panties, prodding her pierced nose at your clit as her tongue ghosts over your core. nam-gyu doesn’t miss the way you gasp, your hand on his cock stilling for a beat before resuming its pace. you're squirming for her, and she responds in kind by latching her mouth to your pussy. you jolt as she sucks on your clit, nam-gyu’s mouth soaking up all of your pretty cries.

he thrusts up into your hand in sync with your noises, like he’s the one fucking you, making you sound like this. se-mi’s bobbing her head to lap at your clit, you’re bobbing your hand to fist nam-gyu’s dick. and you’re both close: he can tell from how your moans raise in pitch, how your hand’s stuttering on him. he doesn’t want you to cum to her. and he sure as hell doesn’t want to cum without being inside of you.

nam-gyu breaks away from your grasp. he makes the mistake of looking down— his throat burns with bile at the sight of se-mi dragging her tongue all over you like that. and you were grinding your hips against her face as if she was actually making you feel good, when nam-gyu was right there; like se-mi wouldn’t pale in comparison to what he’d do to you. he was disgusted. he wouldn’t admit it, but he was jealous.

“hey, swap with me.”

it’s as if neither of you hear him— like he’s not really there. instead he’s back at home again, watching this all through a screen and fisting himself to the sight of another girl on his girl. you’re making an idiot out of him. nam-gyu snatches se-mi’s face away from between your legs with a fist in her hair. she cusses at him, shoving him by the shoulder. her mouth glistened with your juices.

“it’s my turn now, bitch.”

you already knew they’d bicker. you wrap a cruelly tight fist around nam-gyu’s dick, and he almost keels over. you warn him to play nice, and you share a glance with se-mi that he doesn’t see. whatever. you could scissor all you wanted after this, but he was here, and you can’t just leave him hanging now.

se-mi moves to swap positions with nam-gyu as he shifts to her previous perch between your thighs. he’s practically salivating, living out his dreams in real time as he lines his dick up with your core. he hisses as the tip prods your heat. his eyes screw shut as he slams in to the hilt. you’re so wet, his dick is gliding as he starts snapping his hips at a gruelling speed. he meets your gaze when he opens his eyes: yours are blown wide, mouth parted in pants, brows pinched together. he preserves the sight to memory. it’s way hotter than he conjured up in his imagination.

he’s so lost in the view of your face contorted in pleasure that he didn’t notice se-mi’s arm stretched down. she’d been rubbing circles onto your clit since nam-gyu entered you. between his sharp thrusts up into your pressure point and her fingers working at your pussy, you were a wailing mess— not even sure what direction was up or down anymore.

and these two were relentless; in competition to be the one to make you cum. your back arching from the bed and your thighs pressing into the sides of nam-gyu’s torso were the tells that you were close. your voice was cracking in a run-on string of moans. and then the balloon pops: you convulse around nam-gyu’s cock as he pistons in and out of you, with se-mi’s fingers keeping busy at your clit.

he doesn’t let up, even when the ropes of his cum shoot into you. they’re both drawing out the sweet song of your orgasm for as long as possible. it’s not until your hands fumble down to reach for them, completely out of air to say with words that you were finished, that they pull away.

the room’s fogged with your pants as you catch your breath, while se-mi and nam-gyu stare knives into each other’s eyes. it’s a silent conversation; an argument over which one actually caused your orgasm. well, there’s no room for discussion when there’s an entire page dedicated to se-mi making you cum— and nam-gyu’s its #1 fan.

💌 | @lightinbug @sherrayyyyy @ferrarifinnick @scne-vampire @xoxolakeyah @littleelamb

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

Note

Just thinking about Namgyu laughing in your face as he holds a vibrator to your cunt😖. Like you’re fully bare and vulnerable while he’s fully clothed, casually leaning on his side as you shake with pleasure.

Play Thing

anon!!! I LOVE THE WAY YOU THINK 😩😩😩 This was wayyyyy too fun to write. I just had a think that he would love to buy all sorts of toys for you and use them until you can’t take it 😗😗

Warnings: smut (18+), sex toy use (f receiving), orgasm denial, dirty talk, name calling (slut), degradation, squirting, read at your own risk

If there’s one thing Nam-gyu loves to do is to play with you. He’s damn near sadistic about it too. He will spend hours with his hand between your legs, fingers practically finger painting with your wetness. He adores how you write against him and how your breaths become ragged as you try to act like he’s not affecting you.

He lives for it.

You were just so cute! The way your eyes would well up with tears as your hips rotate mindlessly into his fingers, trying your best to move his deft digits up to your throbbing clit- where you needed it most. But he would always pull away. He couldn’t let you cum too soon, that would ruin all the fun!!

That being said, that brought you right to your current position….writhing against your bed, tucked into Nam-gyu’s side as he gives your new toy a test run. You can’t remember how long you’ve been like this, curled into Nam-gyu’s side, completely naked and oh so soaked while he is composed as ever, clothed completely and smirking down at your pathetic state. All you know is you’ve been so close to cumming 10, 12, maybe even 13 times, and each time he’s ripping the vibrating wand away from your abused cunt and running the nirvana you were so close to.

Your cunt is throbbing, your legs are shaking, and your back hurts from how hard it is arching off the bed but it feels so fucking good. Nam-gyu is smirking down at you, taking in every movement you make, analyzing every reaction you have. Anytime a moan falls from your lips he can feel his cock strain painfully against his jeans but he wouldn’t dare to undo the button and zipper.

There was something about having you tucked into his side, writhing- nearly sobbing as you moan his name, completely naked and spread open for him- Just for him- that gave Nam-Gyu such a rush of pleasure, a feeling of complete domination over you. You were his and his alone to play with.

You were so adorable too! Choked whines of his name and curses flow from your lips with such ease you’d think it was a song you had memorized. You’re looking up at him doe eyed and desperate, hips moving against the vibrator in frantic swivels as you mumble something incoherent about how good it feels. Nam-gyu would never get over the image of your reddened eyes and wet lashes, tears falling down your flushed cheeks as you beg for more.

“More?!” He laughs, “How greedy can you be?” His hand releases your breast to run up your sternum and neck, cupping your jaw and cheek. “Over here cryin’ and you’re still asking for more?” His tone is sickly sweet, his thumb smearing a fresh tear that falls down your cheek.

Your head nods up and down, a silent plea for him to give you more of the exhilarating pleasure you so desperately crave. You hear a scoff, an entertained sound as his finger clicks the button to the next level of vibration.

Immediately the feeling of electricity is amplified tenfold. A wanton cry is ripped from your lungs, the continuous thrum of the vibrator making your mind fill with static. “Nam-gyu~ F-fuck!!”

The way you say his name has him grinding his cock harder into the side of your thigh. It’s such a sweet, needy tone and it’s all for him to hear. In a quick motion he’s increasing the speed, click after click the speed gets faster. All you can hear is your own moans, the thrum of the wand and the lewd, wet sounds that come from between your thighs.

If your eyes weren’t busy fluttering back into your skull you would be able to see how he looks down on you- like you’re a meal waiting to be devoured- and, you are. Much like a delicacy displayed before him on rumpled bedsheets, you deserved to be savored. He deserved to savor you.

Wracked cries and sobs come from your body, you’re so close- but he knows you like the back of his hand- every time he knows your just close enough, he’s pulling his hand away, ripping the feeling of the thrumming vibrator away from your aching clit.

“I-I wanna cum.” You babble out, back bowing and legs shaking. “You can’t.”

You gasp, eyebrows knitting together in a near pained expression, “P-please I need it!” You try to reason, maybe begging will sweeten him up, you think it worked when you feel yourself reaching closer and closer to that exhilarating high that you craved and he doesn’t pull his hand away.

Right as the precipice of your orgasm begins to bloom in your lower stomach, a white hot heat radiating down your spine and legs, Nam-Gyu adjusts his hand and pulls the vibrator away, clicking it off. “Nope.”

Tears pour out of your eyes as you shake against the bed, a sheen of sweat layering your body, you can hardly catch your breath as you lay in the aftermath of being denied your orgasm once more. “Spread your legs wider.”

Nam-gyu’s gruff tone snaps you out of the haze you were in, the tone is domineering- it wasn’t an ask or a request, it was a demand. You whine, knees falling open. He takes this opportunity to trap your leg closest between him, between his own legs. He’s keeping you spread open for him just by trapping your one leg. Sure, you could try to move your other leg but it wouldn’t get you very far.

He places the vibrator back onto your sopping cunt, the head of it even just touching yourself clit- it’s not even on- it makes you jump. You expect him to gradually turn the speed on like he had been for the past hour, work you up to that rapid speed that has your body and mind going numb…

He doesn’t. Nam-gyu’s finger clicks against the ‘increase speed’ button and gets the speed to the highest one possible before he’s placing the vibrator back on your pussy. A creaky, high pitched whine is ripped from you, you’re gasping out his name and jolting against the mattress. Your leg that was trapped between his legs is twitching violently, trying to meet your other thigh to close your legs. “’s t-too much!” Even though you sob out, you don’t make any real effort to get him to stop or slow the vibration down, your hips are even grinding down onto the vibrator.

“Oh come on…” Nam-Gyu muses, it’s slow sardonic, mocking tone, “I wouldn’t have wasted my money on this toy if I knew you couldn’t take it.” He spits, the whirring head of the wand smearing your arousal on your thighs. Anytime he moves the device a wet ‘Schlick, Schlick’ sound echos throughout the room, just more testament to how badly you’re coming undone.

“I-I’m.. hah! I can t-take it!” Your voice gives you away so easily, ten times higher than normal and broken up by sobs of pure pleasure. If you were the least bit more with it you may have felt embarrassed. Here you were so broken, writhing and vibrating with pleasure, your body slick with a sheen of sweat. And you’re tucked so nicely into Nam-gyu’s side. His arm is hung lackadaisically around your shoulders, massaging and groping at your breast- just adding to the overwhelming pleasure you were receiving. He’s fully clothed and the only way you can tell he’s as turned on as you are is the way he grinds his thick, clothed erection against your thigh.

“I-I can t-take it!” He mimics, mocking your tone of voice before laughing down at you. “Ya gotta try harder than that if you wanna lie, princess.” He presses the button on the vibrator, increasing the speed. You let out a yelp, your hands flying to grip at his arm around your shoulder, trying to find anyway to ground yourself. “You’re making a fuckin’ mess of the sheets and your cunt is soaked- I haven’t even made you cum yet sweetheart. I dunno if you can take it.” He huffs, beginning to click the down button on the wand, the speed decreasing.

At risk of him stopping completely, you turn more into him, nearly sobbing into his chest. “I can!” You plead, nodding into his shirt, surely wetting it with your drool and tears. He chuckles, it’s so nonchalant that it makes your insides twist. He’s so composed, breathing steady, face calm and smug, just watching you come undone. “Can you?” Nam-gyu hums, pushing the wand harder against your aching clit as he clicks the speed back up.

You grip harder at his wrist that cups your jaw, nails making crescent moon shaped indents in his flesh. With every ‘click’ of his finger on the increase button, your mouth is hanging farther open and you’re shaking against him. Drool is pooling out of your mouth at this point, he’s driven you so close to the edge of your release more times than you can count- only to pull away right before you finally reach your climax.

“Mhm! F-fuck! I can! P-pleaseeee!!” The wanton cry is drawn out so sweetly, you really want it. You need it. You can feel how messy your cunt is, dripping down the valley of your ass and pooling under you in a sticky puddle on your sheets. He’s been playing with you for over an hour at this point, maybe even longer you can’t even think straight enough to tell at this point.

“Oh?? Begging now!?” He’s cooing at you like he’s talking to a baby, rubbing it in just how gone you were. Completely at his mercy like a puppet and the thrumming wand in his hand was the string that made you dance and sing so prettily for him. “Pleasee~” Nam-gyu mimics your voice, laughing as he looks down at you.

Your teary eyes meet his as you turn your head, trying to burrow your face into the fabric of his shirt. You pout, face red and eyes puffy, lashes clumped together. Fuck you’ve never looked better. You pout, a sound resembling a whine coming out of your throat in response to his mocking. “What??” He asks, his sadistic grin never leaving his face as the sarcastic question falls from his lips, “‘s how you sound right now, sweetheart. Ya can’t be mad at me for just repeating you~”

He mimics your pout and shakes his head playfully, his hand holding the wand, shaking back and forth. White hot fire erupts in your lower stomach, you know you’re getting close again. How could you not be?! You can barely register Nam-gyu’s laugh, the motion has your eyes fluttering back and your legs closing around the vibrating head of the wand. “You better not fucking cum.”

His words are low, nearly a hissed growl. Nam-gyu pulls you closer to him, his grip on you tightening. “Don’t you fucking dare.” It’s a threat. It always was. If you reached your sweet release before he was through with playing with you; he would make sure you paid for disobeying him.

“It’s- ohmygod- it’s s-so good…” your words come out in pathetic babbles, your head buried in his chest as he works the vibrator over the sloppy mess that was between your thighs. No matter how hard you squeezed them together, trying to close off your puffy folds and throbbing clit from the onslaught of the wand, his hand is not moving. The humming head of the wand he bought for you moves back and forth, in circles, up and down- anyway it can move, Nam-Gyu is making sure he does it.

When he was coming home from work and saw that new sex shop finally opened up after construction, it didn’t take but one time of him seeing the ‘grand opening’ sign to practically throw the car in reverse and pull into the parking lot. He did think he should wait, maybe he’d go home and tell you about it so both of you could check it out together…the thought of coming home with a new little toy for his princess as a surprise was much more enticing though…so Nam-gyu turned the car off, shoved his wallet in his pocket and walked into the store.

He came out of the store with the toy he was using on you currently, bringing it home and wasting little to no time to slide into bed next to you, get you out of your clothes and play with you.

“I know, sweetheart~” He coos, a tone so drastic from the demanding one he was just previously using, “but you don’t cum until I tell you too…” he punctuates his words by pressing the vibrator harder onto your clit, his tone teetering from sweet to harsh, “I will make you cum over and over until it fucking hurts.” He speaks through gritted teeth, his hold on your jaw tightening.

Your eyes flutter open, your bottom lip becoming caught in your teeth as you try to keep yourself from cumming. You nod, letting out a muffled, ‘Mhm! Mhm!’

“Yeahhh, ‘s right, you know ya gotta listen to me if you gotta cum…” He muses, an almost twisted grin on his face as his eyes scan over your body. His pupils focus down, watching as you’re creaming around the wand, your cunt soaking the sheets below you even further than it already had been. “You hear how wet you are? So fuckin’ messy. Pretty pussy’s just greedy ain’t she?”

Your breath catches in your throat at his words, they do nothing but drive you closer and closer to your edge and he knows it. You open your mouth to speak, eyes fluttering back open to look at him. You can’t form words, your mind is completely fucking blank from being edged and played with for so long…but it’s so fucking perfect.

Nam-gyu leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, filthy kiss. It’s full of spit and tongue, he’s swallowing every moan that falls from your lungs, in every way he’s just as greedy as you.

His hand drops from your jaw back to your tits, pinching at one of your nipples while moving his hand faster, rolling the vibrator in circles that blend seamlessly with the fast thrum of the vibrations. Your toes are curling and your legs are shaking so violently, you’re trying your best to hold out on your orgasm.

Nam-gyu pulls away breathlessly, placing his forehead on yours as his eyes trail up and down your form. “When I tell you to cum…you’re gonna make a fuckin’ mess f’me right?”

You nod and whimper. Eyes rolling back as your chest heaves with every shuddering breath.

“Gonna cum hard to thank me for spending my money on this toy f’you?”

You nod again, you’re sure you’re going to cum any second whether he tells you or not. You just really hope you can hold on until he allows you to cum.

“S’right pretty girl…” Nam-gyu kisses you again, “Cum for me, show me how good the toy is.”

“Ohmygodohfuck!! ‘M cumming!” You instantly cry out, words slurred and babbled. He could almost laugh at how instantly you jumped on your cue. With a final sob of his name you cum harder than you think you’ve ever cum before. Your back arches to the ceiling, your vision is blurred over with white and your ears are ringing.

Your orgasm gushes out of you in a thick stream and Nam-Gyu doesn’t let up on his ministrations, his hand moves the wand back and forth, splashing around your cum in a lewd display that mimics a fountain.

“There it is~” he coos, working you through your orgasm completely, watching every minuscule expression you make when you cum. “So pretty when you cum…so fuckin’ pretty.”

When you come crashing down your body is vibrating almost as fast as the vibrator that Nam-Gyu subsequently clicks off. He moves, releasing your one leg from the trap he had it in and begins to brush the hair that’s sticking to your forehead back and out of your face.

Your mind is filled with static, your body still on overdrive, yet a blissed out smile spreads across your lips. “S-so when can we go to that store….” You stop your words to draw in a large breath, “Go together. Maybe we can get s-something for you…” you lazily giggle.

He rolls his eyes and adjusts you so you’re tucked properly into his side once more, hand drawing lines up and down your back, “We can discuss that when you’re not fucked dumb. Doubt you could remember a plan if you made one right now anyways.”

He expects you to retort with a smartass comment like you normally do, but you don’t. When he looks down he sees you’re passed out, snuggling into his chest. The vibrator literally fucked you to sleep- it was a great fucking purchase. “Told ya~” He chuckles softly.

I hope you guys liked this one!! I’m sorry my posting schedule has been wonky!! This was the first of my WIPs that I have been working on. Also plz forgive me if this one is a little short 🙏🙏🙏

Every request I get just drives me to continue writing so thank you guys!!! Love yall so much! - <3 kiwi

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luvissoluving · 3 months ago

Text

i need this into my veins

Etched in Ink

Nam-gyu x TattooArtist!Pierced!Fem! Reader Smut Fic

Summary: when Nam-gyu decides it’s time for a tattoo, he asks his best friend, Thanos, where he goes. Thanos raves about his tattoo artist and urges Nam-gyu to schedule an appointment with you. Nam-gyu could not prepare himself for the fact this highly praised tattoo artist is so fucking hot.

Warnings: smut (18+) , reader is described as being tattooed , reader has piercings (tongue, nipple, clit) , oral (f receiving) , p in v sex , creampie , name calling (i think whore like once) , dirty talk , read at your own risk

When Thanos told him that he knows a “fucking crazy good” tattoo artist, he was intrigued.

Nam-gyu had his fair share of ink, multiple pieces littering his skin in intricate vibrant lines. But, he got all the ones he had from some shady underground parlor or even someone’s basement. With the new desire to have the tattoo needle against his skin again, this time with an idea for something much larger than what he gotten before- he decided it was time to find someone a bit more reputable.

So he asked Thanos- the purple hair rapper having a large tattoo of his name down his back, the lines are crisp, the black ink rich and even- simple as the design was, Nam-gyu couldn’t lie, the attention to detail and the skill of the artist was apparent.

Thanos was quick to boast about his tattoo and the artist he got it from, telling Nam-gyu he just had to take him to the place he goes to, to see the specific artist he went to. And hell, with how serious Thanos seemed about his holy grail of a tattoo artist- he agreed.

So he made an appointment on your website. It was easy enough, you had quick availability. So he set a date, paid the deposit and waited (not so) patiently for the tattoo day to arrive. It was late appointment, 8pm. Which was something Nam-gyu appreciated, as an insomniac he preferred to do stuff during the night- and a late night tattoo session sounded like just what he needed.

Thanos had brought him, claiming he just wanted to see you anyway, despite not getting a tattoo himself. Sure, Nam-gyu thought that was odd, he didn’t see why Thanos would want to go out of his way to see a tattoo artist for no reason, but he thought it had to be you were just a chill dude.

But when he walked into the shop with Thanos, and you came up to greet them. He was floored.

You were obviously a female…very obviously. You wore a black tank top, hemmed with lace. It’s tight fitting and low cut, he can’t help but stare at your cleavage and the chest tattoos that litter your skin. He thinks they accentuate one another in the most perfect way.

Your hair was pulled back and you were drying off your hands. He could see tattoos along your arms and hands, spaced out and each eye catching in their own right. He assumed your legs must be the same even though he couldn’t see them due to your pants.

“Hey! You must be Nam-gyu.” You say with a smile. Thanos looks over to Nam-gyu, eyes saying everything. ‘See this is what I was talking about’

Not only were you a good tattoo artist, you were so fucking hot. Nam-gyu gathers himself, nodding his head slowly, “Y-yeah.” He says clearing his throat, a pathetic attempt to hide his surprise and dry mouth.

“Perfect! I’m actually so excited, I really like the ideas you sent me.” You say waving the both of them over to your station. He finds it endearing the way you talk so excitedly about his tattoo. He sent you various pictures of what he wanted, a sharp, detailed, abstract line style tattoo that was planned to start on his arm, go up his shoulder and to his chest.

Your voice and kind tone is such a drastic contrast from your physical appearance- a vixen. You were dangerous. Such a kind sweet face and voice with a body that was straight sin.

He starts to think that Thanos set him up. He knew you were this hot, and knew Nam-gyu wanted a chest piece, now he has to deal with you touching on his chest. Fucking great. He’s bringing his hand up to his mouth, silently laughing in a sardonic manner to himself. He was so fucked.

You’re so short compared to him, looking up at him as you talk, gesturing to the tattoo chair for him to sit down. He follows your orders. You sit down across from him on a circular stool, grabbing your iPad to show him the design you came up with.

“You need me to get you a seat, Thanos?” You call over your shoulder, not even looking up from your tablet. Nam-gyu looks over to Thanos who is not so subtly checking you out. It was like Thanos was undressing you with his eyes. Nam-gyu couldn’t blame him.

“Nah I’m good cutie, just came to drop him off.” Thanos says, you laugh and stick your tongue out playfully. Nam-gyu thinks all the blood he was fighting not to rush to his cock was a fight he was not going to win. On your pink tongue was a silver ball- you had a tongue ring. Jesus Christ, you were going to kill him before you even got the stencil on.

“Alright then get going, don’t need you just standing there. He’s a big boy, got some tattoos before. He’ll be fine. I’m not gonna bite.” You say turning back to Nam-gyu and winking. He sucks in a deep breath and nervously chuckles, shifting in the seat to hopefully conceal the growing erection in his pants.

“Mhm…” Thanos says, finally pulling his eyes away from the view of your back and the red lace thing that was peeking out from your jeans. “Don’t fuck him up too bad, he’s still gotta pay his rent tomorrow.” Thanos says with a teasing grin, looking to Nam-Gyu with a devious grin. He definitely knew what he was doing bringing Nam-Gyu here.

“I won’t mess him up…too bad…” You tease as you begin to put on your gloves. Nam-gyu inwardly groans, even your gloves are pink. You’re like a cute princess in the body of a succubus…he was not going to make it through this session. He’s looking up to the ceiling, saying a silent prayer to himself to try and calm down the erection that’s threatening to become obvious. “I’ll take real good care of him.”

Nam-gyu kisses his teeth, sucking in a shuddering breath he’s thankful you don’t hear. His mind is spinning, he swears he heard a purr in your words, like you’re insinuating the same idea that he’s trying to wipe from his mind. He can stop thinking about how you’d look with his cock shoved in your mouth or how you’d look as he fills you to the brim- sinking his cock deep into your pussy. He bets you have the prettiest moans.

He hates his mind- he really does. He never claimed to be a good person but he normally wasn’t this debauched. You’re just a tattoo artist trying to make a living, having friendly banter with clients and here he was thinking about fucking you stupid….yeah great person he was. He thinks that he completely imagined the purr in your voice, he’s just too horny and imagined it.

But when he looks back to Thanos, and sees his expression. Nam-Gyu realizes he didn’t make it up. You did have a distinct tone to your words that even Thanos caught on to. Thanos has an eyebrow raised, like he’s picked up on your words insinuation. His grin widens and he’s winking at Nam-Gyu. “Well then, I’ll take your word for it..” Thanos says in a teasing sing-song voice as he’s crossing the floor and leaving the tattoo shop. “Have fun you two!” The purple haired rapper calls out, like a father seeing off his son and date to prom.

Nam-gyu hears the bell on the shop door ring as it’s opened and closed. Now you two are truly alone. His body feels oh so hot, his pants are uncomfortable and his eyes have not left the ceiling since Thanos walked out. He fears that if he looks at you he might just cum in his pants. He is praising and cursing Thanos simultaneously. Why did Thanos wait so long to show him the work of art personified that was you?! Why did Thanos set him up deliberately?! He couldn’t decide which pissed him off more, the fact Thanos was harboring you like a secret for years or the fact that Thanos deliberately kept you a secret to get Nam-Gyu flustered when all he wanted was a tattoo.

“You want this on your chest and upper arm right?” You say, it brings him out of his trance but he doesn’t look at you. “Mhm.” He says simply, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His eyes nearly roll back into his skull when you giggle and scoot your chair closer to the seat he was laid back on. “You’re gonna need to take this off.” Your fingers pinch his shirt and pull it up teasingly.

Nam-gyu thinks he’s being tested. All the shitty things he’s done in life have led up to this and now he’s put on trial. Forced to act normal when he can’t get over how incredibly sexy you were. It was a real tragedy. He sits up at bit, pulling his shit over his head and balling it up in his lap.

You couldn’t help yourself as your eyes wander over his bare torso. He was fit, not too muscular, not too thin. He was sculpted like some Greek god. You swallow thickly, trying to remain professional as you grab the tattoo stencil.

You scoot your chair close to the bench he’s laid back on. “Just gotta prep the area.” You smile sweetly, leaning over him. He nods, not able to form words as your gloved hands touch his bare chest. You do the prep work, shaving the area and wiping it down. You don’t miss the way his chest shutters with each breath he takes. Anytime your hands come into contact with his chest you can feel how his heartbeat is practically jumping out of his chest.

When you put the stencil down and run your hand along the expanse of his shoulder and chest he is praying you didn’t realize how his eyes rolled into the back of his head. You definitely did, but you didn’t say anything about it.

“Let me know how that looks.” You chirp, bringing him out of the trance you had put him in. He clears his throat and nods, sitting up and hopping off the bench to the walk over to the mirror in your studio. He admires the stencil, it’s an intricate abstract design that spans across his shoulder to his chest. It’s kickass, not only were you built like straight sin, you were a great artist. He sent you many images for inspiration but somehow the design you came up with is even better than any image online he could find.

“Looks good.” He manages to get out, catching your eyes in the mirror. You roll your eyes and raise an eyebrow playfully. “C’mon if there’s anything you wanna change I can fix it. Is the design what you wanted? The placement alright?” You say, he thinks it’s cute how serious you get about your work- wanting to make sure he really likes the ink you’re about to place into his skin. He laughs, as hard and as flustered as you make him; you were so easy to talk to. You had an air of confidence around you that just drew him to you. You were funny, your voice was so sweet, and you were dedicated as a tattooer. Would it be too forward to say fuck the tattoo and just take you on a date now??

He looks at the tattoo again, really looks at it, and he still doesn’t see anything that needs to be changed. “It looks so fucking good. You really did great with the design.” He says genuinely, admiring the blue ink of the stencil that litters his chest. His eyes look back to catch your face in the mirror again, your smile is wide, proud and you’re dancing excitedly in your chair. “Perfect! Sit back down n’ we can get started!” You say oh so happily, it’s such an endearing tone Nam-Gyu thinks he’s going insane. He’s never wanted someone as much as he wanted you.

He follows your orders and settles back down into the seat, it’s slightly leaned back allowing him to sit comfortably and you to have all the room you need to tattoo. He can’t help but to stare shamelessly as you work with the materials in your small corner of the studio, grabbing the ink and needles. You work so effortlessly, he knows you’ve probably done this hundreds of times but you’re so in the zone he feels like he’s watching a movie about a hot tattoo artist. And it’s all a private viewing just for him to see.

You scoot the chair back up next to where he’s sat, tattoo gun in your hand. “Ready?” You ask and he nods, “mhm.” He can’t bring himself to say much else, he’s trying to think about how he’s going to make it through the next couple hours as you’re oh so close to him and touching on his chest. “Yay! Let me know if you need a break or anything.” You say excitedly, he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face at your cute display of excitement.

When he feels the first sing of the needle in his skin he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It’s a pain that he’s come to love, a way of feeling something when he’s not on drugs. The drawn out bite of the needle for hours on end almost lulls him to sleep most the times he’s gotten tattooed. Each tattoo he gets he thinks adds something to him that he can’t quite place. He would love nothing more than to be sung to sleep by the hum of the tattoo gun and the sting of the needle, but he can’t even focus on that when he feels your hands gliding across his skin so slowly and meticulously.

He adjusts his arms slightly, letting his palms fall into his lap and cup over the bulge that he knows is beginning to form in his pants. Part of him feels guilty, you’re just trying to do your job and here he is acting like a dog in heat. He can’t help it, you are so fucking sexy. It’s not even the ‘sexy’ that he would attribute to pornstars, no not at all. You’re a salacious deity, effortlessly attractive in every minuscule thing you do, a lustrous vixen that’s built out of straight sin. To top it all off, he thinks you don’t even realize it. You exude an innocence that contradicts your seductive appearance. Fuck, you were perfect.

Throughout the tattoo Nam-Gyu thinks he falls harder. You ask him about himself, maybe you were just being cordial and trying to pass the time but with each answer he gives you follow it up with an happy answer and a follow up question. You inquire about his job and when you find out he’s a club promoter you ask where. When you find out he works at Club Pentagon you gasp, “No way! That’s dope as hell! Thanos actually was telling me all about that club, raving about it. So me and my friends went the other week.” You stop tattooing a second to turn back to the tray you had and pick up more ink, “I can’t believe I didn’t see you!” You finish, turning back to him with the cutest pout he’s ever seen.

“When did you go?” He inquires, a smile on his face as he sees your pout turn into a grin. “It was a Thursday, I know, not the best day to go to the club.” You say, already defending yourself playfully. “Well ya’ gotta come on the weekends, hell even Monday’s. ‘S when I work.” Nam-gyu says, it takes so much to work himself up to say it- would it be too forward? Would you think he was weird?

“Well now I’ll only ever go on weekends and Mondays if it means I get to see you.” You muse, immediately going back to tattooing, he can hardly register your words. You were flirting, right?? “Yeah? I can put you on the list, get you VIP.” He hums, eyes trained in the ceiling, trying to slow his heartbeat down because he knows you can feel it. “Oh really?? Would it get us a private room, too?”

You were definitely flirting.

He draws in a sharp breath, one of many since he’s met you, hoping it comes off as just him breathing through a tough spot in the tattoo. “Y-yeah I can arrange that.” He looks down for once, looking at you as you tattoo. You were so focused, your nose scrunching every so often, your tongue poking out in concentration giving him a nice view of the silver tongue ring you had on your pretty pink tongue. God, his cock was so hard.

He tries to think of anything else to get his mind off the lewd things he was thinking. He wasn’t a saint by any means, he would even call himself sleazy. But you weren’t like the other women he’s gotten with, you are so professional and dedicated to your work- probably just flirting to get an extra tip, being friendly- and here he was thinking about bending you over and fucking you dumb.

He has no idea you’re thinking the same thoughts. How could you not?! He was oh so attractive and your hands are moving along his toned pecks. You can see the other tattoos that stain his skin, only adding to his appeal. You also weren’t oblivious- you could see the way his hands are clasped over his crotch, trying to hide the erection that’s definitely in his pants.

As you work you’re squeezing your thighs together, trying to get all the sinful images you have playing in your mind to stop so you can do what you need to- tattoo him. But there’s something about the way that, now, your art is on him. The design that you made is permanently etched into his skin like a brand. The thought makes you dizzy.

It’s a large tattoo, so it takes a long while, the whole time the tension keeps thickening between you two. The more you work, the further into his chest it is, the further you have to lean over him. You’re practically on top of him, thumb damn near brushing over his nipple as you work on a particular line. He can feel your breath fanning his skin as you lean even closer to make sure your work is perfect. He can smell your perfume and shampoo, every sense he has is overwhelmed by you.

The hours pass and you two talk and talk, learning little things about each other, laughing at jokes that fly between sentences. It’s like you have known each other forever. He learns that you’ve been tattooing for years, starting in the underground tattooing world- even apprenticing under one of the guys who did his old tattoos. Small world!

Finally, he hears your voice chirp excitedly, “And you’re all done!” You’re pulling away and setting your tattoo gun down. You come back with a cool wet paper towel, wiping the excess ink off his chest. He doesn’t miss the way your hand moves extra slow, like it’s lingering against him. “Stand up n check it out!” You say, he is obsessed with the way your hands nearly shake with how ecstatic you seem to be, wanting him to see the work you did. “Alright, alright!” He chuckles, slowly sitting up, “Gotta give me a second, I’ve been sitting in the same position for hours.” He says, getting up and making a show of groaning as he gets up.

“Awh! So now you’re complainin’?” You tease, “you sat so well the whole time, were being sooo good f’me and now you’re complaining.”

He doesn’t miss the way you have a slight purr to your voice or the way your eyes linger on his bare back from the mirror. Did you just want him to bend you over and fuck you stupid in the studio?! (The answer was absolutely).

He laughs off the way that simple sentence makes him flustered and he shakes his head, “Not complain’, sweetheart. Just being honest.” He says, throwing his own little bit of flirting in the ring. The pet name makes your throat go dry, it rolls off his tongue so smoothly that it seems like he thinks nothing of it. You wave him off and turn around to take your gloves off, hiding your bashful expression. When you gather yourself you stand up and meet him at the mirror.

“Sooo what do ya think?!” You say in a sing song voice as you rock on your heels. He admires your work in the mirror- your work was fucking incredible. The lines were crisp, the black was opaque, and the subtle shading you added around the expanse of the tattoo made it so much better. “Holy fuck this is so awesome…” he laughs out in disbelief, all attempt at sounding suave and flirty out the window as he sees it finished for the first time. He’s eve leaning closer to the mirror to look at it in awe.

Your smile widens exponentially when you see how happy he was with your work, you’re even clapping softly. “Yay! I’m so glad you like it, it was genuinely so fun to do.” You say, catching his eyes in the mirror from where you stand behind him. “It looks really good with your other tattoos too!” You point out. He nods in agreement and turns back to you. “I guess I gotta just keep coming here…I don’t think anyone could compare to your work.”

You can’t help the blush that rises to your face, the praise from him boosting your confidence. You make a show of doing courtesy, giggling as you do it. “What can I say, I’m good at what I do.”

He laughs turning back around to face you fully, you’re a couple feet apart. He’s so much taller than you, you nearly have to crane your neck upwards to look at him. You two stand there with goofy smiles on your faces, each standing idle in the thick cloud of sexual tension that hangs around the two of you.

“Do you want to go on a date?”

“Can I have your number?”

You both speak at the same time, words fumbling from lips in a hasty nervous attempt at trying to meet up again- to do anything to ease the ache that is in both of your lower stomachs. Your laughter echos Nam-gyu’s as the overlapping sentences break the silence. You’re both nodding in response to the others question.

“Yeah, we can go on a date.” He says as he smiles down at you, your eyes cant stop drifting down to stare at his bare chest. “Then…yes you can have my number.” You answer, still giggling. You catch his eyes falling to your chest, eyes tracing over your tattoos and then settling on your cleavage.

You take a slow step towards him, he follows, his hand reaching out to hook a finger around one loops of your jeans and pulls you all the way into him. Your hands find purchase on his chest, careful not to touch the raw skin where you just tattooed. With how he pulled you into him, you can feel his erection press into your lower stomach. “You were hard the entire tattoo, huh?” You ask bluntly, smirking up at him.

Nam-gyu falters a bit, covering it up with a laugh, “A pretty girl like you touching on my chest for hours…c-can’t really help it.” He says a bit bashfully. You bite your lip, finger tracing shapes on his stomach, watching as he tenses up under your touch. “We could do something to help that…” you mutter, your voice low as you bat your eyelashes up at him.

He can’t take it anymore, he brings his hands up to hold either side of your neck and jaw, leaning down to connect his lips with yours. It’s raw and primal. Hours of built up sexual tension pouring out as your lips move together. You giggle a bit when you hear him let out a soft whine into the kiss when he feels your pierced tongue run along his bottom lip. He regains his composure and greedily sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s hypnotizing truly, your kind going blank as your mouth is filled with the taste of him.

Nam-gyu pulls away, connected to you my a string of spit. You’re panting, trying to catch your breath. It’s not easy when he’s tilting your head up and running his nose down your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume that has been overwhelming him this whole time. Your hands reach to his hair, pulling the long black locks as you sigh out blissfully. He leaves open mouthed kisses along your skin, teeth biting into your skin every so often. “Had me so fucking hard the entire time…” he mumbles against your skin, pulling back to lock eyes with you once more.

You bite your lip, fingers tightening their grip in his hair and tugging. A low rumble, resembling a growl escapes his lips as he grinds his painfully hard cock against your lower stomach, like he’s trying to further prove his words. “Bet you were thinkin’ of all the dirty things you wanted to do to me, huh?” You tease, tilting your head mockingly. He huffs, obviously not too enthralled by your mocking, he can’t deny the way it makes his dick jump in his boxers, though.

He pulls you back into him, lips crashing on yours. This time it’s much more frantic, it’s fast paced and full of spit and teeth. It’s messy, filthy even. As his lips wor against yours, his hands are dripping from your jaw to your hips. He’s wasting no time, his hands moving to hastily unbutton your jeans and pull down the zipper. You’re helplessly whining into his mouth, greedily sucking his tongue into your mouth as he’s guiding you backwards.

Your back hits the leather fabric of the seat you were just tattooing him in. His fingers grip at the loops of your pants pulling them down your thighs. He’s groaning into your mouth when he feels his fingers brush against the soft expanse of your thighs. He has to be dreaming.

His large hands work your jeans down to your knees. He’s pulling back from the kiss, spit still connecting your lips together. He grabs at your hips, mumbling a breathless “jump” before he’s helping you up to sit on the chair.

When you’re sat all pretty up on your bench he’s slotting himself between your legs and reconnecting his lips with yours with a desperation that makes your mind spin. He kisses you like you’re a hit of the strongest, rarest drug he’s tried. One taste and he’s addicted to you.

He clumsily pulls your jeans off your legs entirely. Fumbling even more to pull them over your shoes. You’re giggling into the kiss at his eagerness, his hands throwing your jeans to the floor of the studio and reattaching themselves to your bare thighs, grasping at the doughy flesh and moaning into your mouth as he does.

“G-god fuck-“ Nam-Gyu begins to mumble against your lips, “so. Fuckin’. pretty.” He hisses out between kisses. He thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world, there’s no fucking way he’s got you writhing against him, biting on his lips like some fucking she-devil. Your hips roll against his torso, ass grinding against the leather seat under you.

In a breathless motion, he’s pulling away and dipping his head to your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along your pulse point. There’s no true technique to it, it’s like he’s trying to just taste you. And he is. Maybe you’re wearing some pheromone perfume or something, he doesn’t know, but every time he runs his tongue along your skin, your taste flooding his taste buds, his cock is twitching in his pants- wet spot most certainly forming in his underwear.

He pulls away for a moment to simply admire you, trying to imprint the image of you into his mind just in case this is the only time he gets a chance like this. Your thighs are splayed out so nicely, the plush skin widening with how you’re sat. The slit of your sweet cunt practically hidden by your thighs, giving him the most delicious preview of what’s to come. And what is that…no fucking way….oh he’s already planning his next tattoo appointment just to make sure he sees you.

Nipple rings.

He could see the hardened outline of your nipples and the bars that went through them. Jesus Christ, you were going to actually send him to an early grave. He’s back on you, mouth back on your neck and hands coming to cup your tits over your shirt, thumbs brushing against the fabric of your shirt, massaging your nipples with feather light touches that have you jumping in his hold. Your arms find purchase on his shoulders, wrapping around his neck and gripping at the hair at the back of his neck, pulling his head further into you.

“N-nam-gyu…” his name falls from your lips in a nearly silent whine when his teeth dig a little too hard into your skin, the sharp bite of his teeth sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away from your neck, trailing his tongue down to the sweep of your breasts, “say it again.” He mumbles tersely against your skin, lips tickling you. “Say my name like that again.” His thumb and pointer finger pinching the hard peaks and pulling the slightest bit, the black fabric of your tank top stretching with the pull.

“F-fuck! Nam-gyu, p-please.” You’re ashamed you’re already pleading with him, but the throbbing in your cunt has become almost unbearable at this point. You can feel the grin that twists against his lips as he releases your skin from his mouth. He pulls back to admire his work, his thumb moving up from your nipple to brush over the red and purple marks that begin to blossom across the top of your breasts.

“Mhm…that’s it…” he hums, nodding his head slowly, his eyes never leaving your chest, the image of your skin littered with marks made by him had his cock throbbing. So fucking pretty, he thinks. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your kiss swollen lips, the way your skin is stained with the imprints of his teeth and red splotches that span over the tattoos that are inked into your flesh. It’s like some macabre renaissance painting.

He can’t wait any longer. He’s dropping to his knees and pulling you by the hips towards the edge of the chair. Your skin squeaks against the leather and you squeak out, almost afraid you’ll fall. Your hands grip the edge of the seat, your eyes are wide as you look down at him. “‘M not gonna let you fall, I got’cha princess.” He breathes out as he throws your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open finally.

You watch as he stares at your cunt, his pupils as big as saucers as he takes in your pussy. “O-oh my fucking god…” he laughs out in disbelief, not only do you have the prettiest cunt he thinks he’s ever seen, the hood of your clit is pierced. He’s spreading your lips apart to get a better look, thumbs massaging the sides of your pussy as he takes in the perfect sight before him. He looks back up to you, his face nearly as red as yours, “where the fuck have you been all this time.” He’s chuckling and looking back down to your dripping pussy.

He rests his head on your thigh, his thumb starting to trace feather light circles on your clit, thumb running over the little piercing. You jump into his touch, breath catching in your throat. “B-been here the whole time..” you whine out, hips trying to shift to meet his mouth but he’s too far away, “…t-tattooing T-thanos- ahh!” Your words are abruptly cut off by Nam-gyu delving into your pussy.

He doesn’t start slow or work you up, no, he did it to shut you up. His lips wrap around your clit and he sucks, hard, tongue rolling over your throbbing clit in figure eights. You cry out, hand flying to his hair and fisting it into your hands. It’s so much at once, but it’s so good.

“Don’t fuckin’ say his name when I got my face near your cunt..” he growls, lips dancing along your puffy folds as he speaks. He licks a flat stripe up the entirety of your pussy, drenching his tastebuds in your saccharine taste. “Only wanna hear my name.” His words are once again punctuated by his tongue flicking deviously against the silver jewelry adorning your clit. Your hips are pathetically rutting down onto his mouth, urging him to give you more.

But he’s fired up now. Years of being Thanos’ shadow, having to watch as the purple haired rapper got all the girls and left him for nothing. This was his time. His chance. He was the one getting to fuck you, not Thanos. “I’m the one who got you spread out like a whore in your lil’ tattoo studio, right?” Nam-Gyu hisses out, eyes catching yours as he waits for you to answer. You’re sucking in a shaky breath, hand tightening its grip in his hair, nodding.

His change in tone makes your cunt flutter around nothing. “Mhm…y-yeah, jus’ you.” You slur out, hips rolling to try and meet his mouth, every time he backs away so he’d be just out of reach. The corners of his lips curl up when he hears how your voice is higher, words wavering and breath heaving. He’s the one doing this to you. It feels surreal to him. He accepts your answer it seems because he’s diving back in.

His tongue is working messily along your folds. Mapping out every crevice and corner, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Nam-Gyu is watching intently, taking in every reaction you give him. Every twitch of your brow, every time you bite your lip, the way your chest heaves and stomach clenches, he’s spinning. He’s on his knees devouring your cunt, worshipping you like a goddess. He’s not shy about his noises, he’s slurping and lapping up every drop of arousal that pours out your clenching pussy.

“Taste shoo fuckin’ good.” Nam-gyu’s words are slurred by your puffy folds, tongue mapping out every inch of your throbbing pussy. He makes a whole show of dropping his jaw wide open so you can see the slick that drops down his pink tongue and coats his face. He’s so messy, paying no mind to how wet his face has become, how your thighs are painted in your own arousal. Your chest is heaving, your nails are hitting into the leather on the edge of the tattoo seat.

“So fuckin’ pretty too, y’know that?” He hums, his dark eyes trained on your cunt as he pulls back just slightly to take in the beautiful sight before him, “such a pretty fuckin’ cunt.” When he finishes his sentence you have no time to utter a response because he’s diving nose deep into your cunt, tongue circling your sopping entrance as the bridge of his nose rubs so deliciously against your clit.

“N-nam-gyu!” His name falling from your lips is a sound that makes his ears ring and his head fill with static. It’s such a high pitched creaky, pleading whine that’s so different from your voice it shocks him in the best way. One of his hands removes itself from your hip to fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans. His cock is so painfully hard he had to free it from his boxers. When his hefty cock springs free as he pulls his jeans and underwear down just enough, he’s growling into your pussy.

His tongue flattens and he licks a fat drag up the entirety of your cunt, slurping down your thick arousal greedily. “‘M I making you feel good?” He murmurs, eyes watching your every reaction even though your head is tipped back in ecstasy. You nod frantically, eyes screwed shut as he licks up and down, up and down in slow, deliberate drags. “Tell me. Wanna hear it.”

When you open your mouth to speak moans cascade from your lips, it takes a moment for you to even think straight enough to form a coherent thought. One of your hands flies to his hair, pulling the strands back out of his face and fisting the soft strands into your fists. Your head falls back forward, a weak gasp catching in your throat when you immediately catch his eyes, “Mhm, s-so fucking g-good. T-tongue feels so good!”

You can feel the way his lips widen into a smile, satisfied with your words. He nods a bit, his head shaking in your pussy, he’s practically glued. The taste of your cunt is something that not even the best high could compare to. His hands run up your hips and torso, grabbing at the top of your tank top and pulling it down. Your breasts spill out of the fabric giving him the angelic view of your bare tits. Tattoos line your chest, almost like arrows that guide his eyes directly to your pert nipples accessorized so prettily with barbells that have little hearts on either side- framing your nipples so perfectly.

His eyes are fluttering and rolling back at the sight, moaning into the depths of your cunt as he slurps up every possible ounce of your arousal. He can’t help it, he has to remove one of his hands off of your body to reach down to jerk his cock. You writhe and choke out a moan at the sight, his wrist twists around his thick length, smearing the pre-cum that bubbles out of his red tip, smearing it along his throbbing cock. Your hips grind down even harder into his face, his nose grinding so perfectly against your clit as his tongue licks greedily at your insides.

Babbles of his name are lost between wanton moans and pleas for him to continue. Every time he pulls his mouth back the slightest bit you get the most perfect view of his face, absolutely drenched in a milky-white sheen of you. It drips down his adam’s apple tantalizingly, wetting his neck- and he doesn’t care, if he does it only makes him more excited because he’s diving right back in, nose deep to fuck his tongue back into your twitching cunt.

“Ohmygod!” The babbled cry is ripped from your lungs, your hand gripping at his hair harder- nails biting into his scalp. His tongue pulls out of your entrance to lick a fat stripe back up to the hood of your clit, dancing around that pretty little piercing you have, “I’m- fuck! ‘M gonna cum!” You sob out, eyebrows upturning.

As much as Nam-Gyu wants to taste your cum pour down his throat- that would have to wait. He’s so painfully hard, he wants, no, needs to feel you cum on his cock. He’s pulling away, nearly cumming when he hears your whine, so desperate and needy, begging to cum. He stands back up, leaning forward and gripping your face, capturing you in a kiss.

It’s so messy. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. The wetness that was left along his face is smeared across your skin. You’re moaning into his mouth at your own taste, your hands reaching to wrap around each of his wrists as you lean further into him. His taste, although mixed with yours, was something you know you’d forever be addicted to now.

Nam-gyu pulls away breathless, “‘m sorry pretty, I really need to feel you cum on my cock.” He apologizes against your lips, “I’ll make you cum, I promise…” as he speaks, one of his hands snakes down to tap at your clit. He laughs against your pillowy lips when your whole body jolts with each wet tap of his finger pad against your clit.

You nod, hips rolling against his hand, “P-please… Nam-Gyu I-I need to cum. ” You pant out. And how could Nam-Gyu say no to you. He grabs at your hips and pulls you off the bench. Your knees are weak nearly giving out but his grip on you keeps you up right. He’s spinning you around and pushing at your lower back- bending you over the tattoo bench you were just sat on. You whine when you feel your own wetness as you’re laid over the leather, now dirtying your stomach.

Nam-gyu’s hands run up and down your back, pushing up your tank top so he can see the tattoos that are inked on your back. His thick cock is slotted between the valley of your ass, rocking back and forth. You’re shivering, hips shaking left and right to try and urge him to put it in. “Be patient…” he hums, “lemme admire you.”

His hands dance along your skin, taking in all of you, feeling you under his palms. When his hands land on your waist he lets out a low growl. His hands are so large, engulfing your waist. It’s such a sinful sight, if he had an image of it he’d put it as the lockscreen of his phone. He wants to tease you more, draw this out longer, but the throbbing in his cock is painful at this point. He has to be inside you.

Nam-gyu shifts backwards, gripping the base of his dick and swiping it up and down your sopping cunt. Moans echo through the studio as you feel his fat cock head drag through your folds, catching your clit with each slow drag. When he feels the softness of your pussy along his tip he is also moaning, the hand still on you grabbing tighter at the fat of your hips.

When he’s coated his cock in your arousal he lines up with your entrance. When he makes the first push into your tight heat, both of you are letting out blissful sighs. He’s hardly in and you just know he’s going to fill you so well. Ever so slowly, he pushes in deeper. When his fat cock head is fully inside you, your cunt lets out a sickening wet ‘pop’. The high pitched, creaky moan of his name that you let out makes something particularly superior bloom deep inside him.

“Oh fuuckk…” it’s a long drawn out growl, his hands gripping the globes of your ass, the grip only tightening the further he sinks into your tight cunt. It’s so slow it’s nearly killing you, inch after agonizing inch his cock is stretching your pussy impossibly wide over his thick girth. You can feel the engorged, throbbing veins run along your walls, only serving to make the whole thing feel so much better. “P-please put it in! A-all the way.” You cry out, looking back over your shoulder at him. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his eyebrows are knitted together as he traces every tattoo that litters your back to memorize them. Especially that little tramp stamp you had…that was real cute.

“E-easy…” he hisses out, “You’re so t-tight, sweets. Ya gotta relax if ya want me to go faster.”

His hand reaches around to splay itself across your pubic bone, his deft fingers running along the edges of your cunt where you’re split on his dick to collect your arousal. Traveling back upwards, his fingers meet your clit to rub slow circles into the throbbing bud. You must have loosened up because he’s groaning and sinking in deeper, “Fuucckk yeah, there we go, stretching so pretty around me.”

His words have you moaning, your head falling forward, forehead resting on the leather of the chair. With one final push he’s sinking balls deep inside you. A whine is ripped from your lips, your back arches pushing your hips even further back against him. He’s keeling over you, hunching over and letting out a shuddering breath when he feels the whole length of his cock wrapped in the gooey warmth that was your cunt.

You’re already gushing around him, the force of his cock stretching you out forced a cascade of your arousal down his balls. “Fucking h-hell, so tight. Can feel you clenchin’ around me.” Nam-gyu huffs, his fingers still working on your clit, making your hips roll against him, trying to get him to move. He can’t move right now though, he just knows the second he moves he is going to blow his load deep in your cunt. He tilts his head up and a smirk spreads on his face, a perfect distraction was in front of him.

He leans over you, once of his hands running up your spine, tracing a line of your tattoo, crawling up your neck and grabbing a fistful of your hair. He pulls your head off the bench and you’re met face to face with your own reflection. The same mirror that he used to check his tattoo was now continently placed right in front of you. Your face was flushed, kiss swollen lips hanging agape as you pant. “Look at youuu…” Nam-gyu coos, using his grip on your hair to wiggle your head around to further mock your state.

You look so fucked out, it’s embarrassing, your eyes screw shut trying to hide away from the sight. “Not gonna move until you open your eyes.” The sentence is uttered through clenched teeth, coming out in a hiss. You don’t obey, your eyes are still shut. Your hips try to circle back against him but a desperate cry is ripped from your lungs as he draws his cock back, pulling nearly all the way out until just his heavy tip rests in the tight ring of your cunt.

“I know you can hear me, c’mon.” Nam-Gyu growls, jerking your head back and forth once more by your hair to really get your attention. Weakly, your eyes pry themselves open to look at your reflection in the mirror. You look up and you see his smile widening his black hair falling forward in front of his face like some scandalous curtain. When he knows you’re going to keep your eyes open, his hips are surging forward. When he sinks his cock into you again, a loud ‘squelch’ comes from your pussy, echoing throughout the tattoo studio.

“Good girl, y-you’re so pretty, ya gotta look…can’t waste a view like this.” He praises, his words shuttering every so often when he feels your cunt pulsate around him. It’s an addicting feeling, so tight, so warm. A soft, drawn out whine comes from your throat as you feel his thick length sink so deep into you, you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His fingers are still dancing along your clit, sending wave after wave of exhilarating pleasure throughout your body.

“God you feel so good, so fucking wet…” Nam-gyu huffs out, beginning to piston his hips into your ass, drawing in and out of your sopping heat in dizzying strokes. “Making such a- fucking hell- a fucking mess on my dick.” You watch the way his eyes are focused downwards, where you two are connected. Watching as the frothy white ring that forms around the base of his cock grows with each devious plap, plap, plap of his hips.

“S-so fucking big, sooo deeep.” You whine, your words slurred and drawn out, bouncing in time with each forward drive of his hips. His ego swells even bigger, your fucked out tone and babbled speech just makes him speed his thrusts up, a rumble reverberating in his chest when he sees the plush fat of your ass recoil and jiggle against his pelvis.

He releases his grip on your hair, your head falling forward, cheek resting on the leather of the chair, moth lolling open in silent gasps. His hands grip at the soft flesh of your ass, nails biting into the flesh as he rocks your ass back harder against him, slamming you back onto his cock so anytime he drives balls deep into your gushing cunt, the fat tip of his dick is pressing against your cervix in a way that’s making you delirious. “Yeah? Feels good? Tell me how good it feels.”

You’re drooling at this point, hands gripping helpless at the fabric of the bench. “Mhmm!!! So fucking good!” You cry out, “o-oh my god, so, so good!” One of your hands reaches backwards, gripping at the wrist of one of his arms desperately. “Thaaattss it…” he murmurs, his chest heaving, hips never letting up.

“Fuck yourself back against me, lemme see it.” You waste no time in following his orders, rocking your hips back to meet his thrusts. He expects you to go slow and work up to a faster speed…but no- you’re slamming your hips back against him with a violence that rivals his thrusts. You need to cum.

Nam-gyu thinks he’s in heaven, every time your ass meets his thighs he’s diving impossibly deep into you, stuffing you oh-so-full and stretching you incredibly wide. Anytime you pull away, you can feel the wetness that dirties his thighs and your ass string you two together in some macabre, pornographic connection.

It’s raw and carnal, Nam-gyu’s head tips back in pure bliss as your cunt greedily sucks him in. With each wet slap of your ass against his pelvis you’re driven further and further to your climax. Every time your hips piston backwards his fat cock is bulling itself against your g-spot. “R-right there!!” You cry out desperately, you need to cum.

“Yeah? Right there? That’s the spot?” Nam-Gyu huffs out, his hands digging even harder into the flesh of your ass, hips pile driving into you meeting every one of your backwards thrusts. He angles himself upwards the slightest bit, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you like a target. Your head shakes up and down in a frantic ‘yes’, babbled praises falling from your lips trying to spur him on.

He drives his hips meticulously into that spot over and over. It’s raw and carnal, each thrust is harder than the last and has you moaning out for him like the prettiest song. The tattoos etched into your lower back and hips ripple and stretch each time your ass recoils against him. “Fuck, look at you…” He coos, one of his hands releasing your hip to run back down to your cunt. His fingers run along your puffy folds, feeling the way you’re stretched so wide around him. “Taking it so well, just like I knew you would.”

Nam-gyu’s words go straight to your cunt, you knew he was hard while you were tattooing him but the verbal confirmation that he was thinking about fucking you that whole time just confirms it in the best way. “O-oh fuck, i-i think I’m g-gonna-“ your words are creaky and so broken up by moans, you can’t even finish what you wanted to say because it just feels too fucking good.

“Fuck, yes.” Nam-Gyu growls, his fingers moving up to your swollen clit and dancing along the pulsating bud in mind blowing circles. His tone is one that resonates deep within your mind, igniting every one of your nerves on fire. It was like those words were the ones he’s been dying to hear this whole night. “C’mon pretty girl, I need to f-feel…fuck! I need to feel you make a mess on my dick.”

Your eyes screw shut and you’re helplessly fucking yourself back on his cock, meeting each one of his mean thrusts to drive his cock so deep inside you. His fingers work deft circles on your clit, making even more of a mess of your pussy. You can feel of sloppy you’ve become, your arousal has dropped down your thighs and started to coat the tile below the two of you.

His thrusts are mean and deliberate, speeding up and driving into that sweet spot over and over her needs to feel you cum around him. Moan after moan falls from your lips, each one becoming more higher pitched than the last. You’re clenching around him tighter, spasming in a rhythm that nearly traps him inside your cunt. “F-fuck!! ‘m cumming! Ohmygodohmygod Nam-gyu!” It’s a babbled mess of his name and gasps of pleasure, your back arching even more, your hips shuddering in sloppy thrusts backwards until they stop completely.

Your orgasm makes your vision blurry, your ears ring, and your mind fill with static. When you cum, you cum so hard. Harder than you think you ever have. You’re gushing around him, sobbing out as your body shakes against him. Nam-gyu’s head is tipped back, eyes rolled so far back into his head that he swears he could see his skull. The vice like grip you had on his cock is hurling him towards his own end.

“F-fuck!” Nam-gyu nearly yells out, hips and fingers working you through your orgasm in sloppy movements. “W-where do you want it? F-fuck ya gotta tell me, ‘m so close.”

You can hardly make the words out to respond, but you need it badly, so after inhaling a large, heaving breath and answering him. “I-inside, w-want to feel it..hah!..p-please!” The words are slurred and damn near incoherent- but he hears them perfectly.

With a few more rough thrusts, he’s driving his hips flush with your ass, pushing his cock balls deep into you and cumming deep in your tight heat. You can feel every thick rope filling you up, prolonging your orgasm to the point where you can hardly breathe. His hips rock shallowly into you, making sure every last drop of his cum is pulled from his cock and painting your walls.

You both still, sweaty and breathless, bodies feeling like jelly. “Y-you came so much…” you whine, hips rolling against his mindlessly. Nam-gyu hisses, over sensitive, hand pulling away from your clit so he can hold both of your hips, stilling you. “Mhm…” he hums out, catching his breath, “couldn’t help it, pussy felt too fucking good.”

You smile dumbly, letting out a weak giggle and slumping against the leather bench. With every giggle you let out, your pussy clenches around him like a vice. Nam-Gyu slowly pulls out, his whole body shivering as he slides out of your cunt. He keeps his hands on your ass, spreading you open so he can watch as his cum seeps out of you in thigh globs that drop to the floor and mix with the mess you’ve already made.

His thumb glides over your pussy, smearing the mess as he admires it. “Now that’s a fuckin’ sight..” he hums out, chuckling slightly as you shake anytime his thumb runs over your overstimulated clit. Nam-gyu slides his hands back up your body as he leans down, placing a line of kisses across the back of your shoulder.

You smile when you feel the comforting weight of him over you, trapping you against the chair. You turn your face to try and look back at him, a blissed out smile on your lips. He meets you halfway, booking his face over your shoulder to capture your lips in a slow kiss. It’s languid and full of tongue. You can still taste yourself on his tongue.

“Aren’t we supposed to fuck after the first date?” You mutter against his lips, giggling softly. “Mmm…yeah I guess…but seems like we do things differently.” Nam-gyu says as he pulls away from the kiss, one of his hands is brushing hair out of your face. The next moment he’s holding his phone in your face open to a new contact screen. “Gotta give me your number so we can plan that date.” He says laughing, placing a kiss on your temple.

You can help but laugh, taking his phone and beginning to type in your contact information. Even adding a cute selfie of your fucked out face with makeup smeared and all to the contact as the photo- after your date and the many dates to come he could change it when he had more photos of you (or not).

You didn’t plan to get fucked stupid on your tattoo chair but you weren’t complaining at all, you were so glad he had made an appointment.

I hope you guys liked this one, it was on the back burner for a long while and I really wanted to finish it! I promise I’m still working hard at requests 🙏🙏 thank you all for your support!! Let me know what ya think of this one!! love yew guys!! - <3 kiwi

#this is so good #i love this so much #this is amazing #aaaaaaaa #more pls

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