m0ri-apeuda

[m0ri-apeuda]

Wrong Place, Right Time

Bff! Hyunjin x Fem reader

Tags: friends to lovers, angst, smut, possessive best friend, sexual awakening, forbidden tension, oral (f, m receiving), praise kink, dom!hyunjin, corruption kink, emotional sex, jealousy, complicated love, voyeurism.

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: You’ve known Hyunjin your whole life—tall, infuriating, and stupidly beautiful. He’s your best friend, your biggest headache, and the reason no guy ever stuck around. Because Hyunjin is everywhere. Too involved. Too protective. Too everything. And yet… never yours. He’s a player. A heartbreaker. The kind of guy who gets head at his own house parties while you crash on the couch downstairs. He doesn’t see you like that. Not you. You’ve always been the safe one. The exception.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

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Hyunjin had always said you didn’t belong at his parties.

He said it with a grin, every single time—one hand ruffling your hair, the other probably still smelling like some girl’s perfume. “You? No way. Too soft. You’d cry by midnight.”

You’d roll your eyes, toss a pillow at his stupidly perfect face, and mutter something like “Don’t flatter yourself” even though you both knew he always would.

You’d been best friends since before he got hot. Before the cheekbones sharpened and the jawline could cut glass. Before girls started whispering in class and giggling when he walked by. And definitely before Hyunjin turned into the kind of guy who could get away with murder as long as he looked good doing it.

Your friendship had survived everything—school, distance, jealousy, college. But it came with rules. Unspoken ones.

Rule one: Hyunjin could sleep with whoever he wanted, and you couldn’t say anything.

Rule two: You could date, theoretically—but not really. No guy ever stuck around long enough to matter.

Rule three: You didn’t ask about what happened at his parties, and he never let you come.

It worked. Sort of.

—

You were on his bed. Technically. You were half-sprawled on his floor, legs tangled in a blanket, your laptop propped against his dresser while Hyunjin sat cross-legged above you, lazily scrolling through TikToks with the volume off.

“Are you even watching this?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He looked down at you, hair a mess from where he’d flopped back earlier, shirt hanging off one shoulder like he couldn’t be bothered to exist properly.

“Nope,” he said.

“Then stop judging my taste.”

“I’m not judging,” he said. “I’m just silently suffering.”

You threw a rolled-up sock at his face. He caught it without looking. Showoff.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to focus, “I was thinking I could come stay over this weekend, so I’m thinking Friday night. Unless you’ve got some raging orgy planned.”

Hyunjin snorted. “You make it sound so scandalous.”

“Don’t you throw parties every Friday?”

“I throw gatherings.”

“With a body count.”

He didn’t even pretend to look ashamed. Just shrugged and leaned back on his elbows, stomach peeking through his shirt where it rode up.

You looked away. Not because you were embarrassed—just… used to it. That was the thing about Hyunjin. He was beautiful in a way you were supposed to stop noticing if you were around him long enough. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“You’re not invited,” he said casually.

“Wow.”

“It’s not an insult,” he added quickly. “You just… wouldn’t like it. It gets intense.”

“I’m not a child, Hyunjin.”

He gave you a look that said he begged to differ.

“No offense, but the last time we went to a club, you ended up crying in the corner because some guy slapped your ass.”

“That was a valid response.”

“Sure.” He grinned. “Just proving my point.”

You glared at him, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. It was always like this with you two—him being overbearing, you pretending not to care. A push and pull that never went anywhere.

Except lately… it felt like it was going somewhere. Somewhere new. Somewhere you weren’t sure you wanted to go.

Like last week, when he came over after hooking up with someone new. He never told you names—just vague details and smirks—but that night he was weirdly quiet. He sat next to you on the couch, warm and flushed, smelling like sex and vanilla.

You’d tried not to notice. Tried not to care that his hair was still damp from the shower he’d taken before coming over.

You told yourself he was just Hyunjin. And you were just you. The best friend. The safe one.

That night, when you got back to your dorm, you couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth. Not because you wanted it—just… curiosity. It had looked swollen. Like someone had kissed him hard. Bitten him.

You’d closed your laptop, turned off the light, and lay there in the dark, wondering what it would feel like to be wanted like that. Even just once.

Not by him, of course. Just… in general.

—

That day on campus, you didn’t mean to get annoyed with him.

It was just a look. One single look across the quad, Hyunjin sprawled on the grass next to some girl whose laugh carried all the way across campus. She had her hand on his chest and her legs crossed just a little too tight, and he wasn’t even trying to be subtle. He was leaning into it, eyes half-lidded, lips tilted in that lazy, infuriating smirk that you’d seen way too many girls fall for.

He caught your eye just as you passed. And he winked.

Not a cute wink either. A you know exactly what I’m about to do to her wink. You hated that you understood it. Hated that it made your stomach twist the way it did. You weren’t jealous. You weren’t.

You just… wanted him to stop looking at you like you were still twelve years old and needed babysitting every time you wore lipstick.

So that night when he texted you as usual, you didn’t text him back.

You were brushing your teeth the next morning when he let himself into your dorm.

“I brought you coffee,” he announced like some kind of peace offering.

You rinsed, spat, and didn’t bother looking at him. “Why?”

He frowned. “Because you didn’t answer last night.”

You shrugged, too tired to fake cheer. “I was busy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “With what? You weren’t at the library. I checked.”

“You checked?”

“Yeah, I was in the area.”

You turned to face him, arms crossed. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“What?”

“Showing up. Keeping tabs. Acting like you own me.”

Hyunjin looked genuinely caught off guard. “I don’t—what are you talking about?”

“I’m not a kid, Hyunjin.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” you snapped. “Because sometimes it feels like you only see me as Minho’s little sister. Or that friend you have to protect. And maybe I’m just tired of that.”

He was quiet for a second, fingers tightening slightly around the coffee cup.

“You don’t want me to look out for you anymore?”

“No,” you said, voice quieter. “I just want to make my own choices. Even if they’re messy.”

He took a step closer, voice low now too. “Some messes aren’t worth it.”

You hated how your heart skipped at that. How close he was. How serious he looked.

“Maybe,” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt. “But maybe it’s not your call to make.”

⸻

By Thursday, you’d made your decision.

You were going to his party.

He hadn’t invited you—of course he hadn’t—but you’d heard it through your mutuals. Same time, same house, same rules: first floor for fun, second floor off-limits unless you were invited.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what happened upstairs.

You weren’t going to go up there. You weren’t going to look for him. You were just going to be there. Exist in his world for once without asking permission.

So you got dressed in something a little riskier than usual—tight black jeans, a halter top that made you feel powerful, mascara that made your lashes look dangerous. You even curled your hair. When you looked in the mirror, you didn’t see his best friend.

You saw a girl he didn’t know how to look at yet.

*

The house was packed when you arrived.

Music throbbed through the floorboards, bass shaking your bones as you pushed through the crowd. Bodies swayed, drinks sloshed, someone bumped into you hard and muttered an apology. You smiled, told yourself this was what freedom felt like.

You kept your head high as you walked through the haze of perfume and weed and laughter. Eyes followed you. Some familiar, some not. You ignored them.

You didn’t see Hyunjin at first. Just his world. The girls in too-short dresses clinging to the staircase banister, the guys on the couch shouting at a drinking game. You wondered which of them he’d kissed already. Which ones he would kiss tonight.

You were halfway through your second drink when you finally saw him—on the far side of the room, lounging back in a chair like a king at his own damn court. His legs spread, arm draped over the back of the couch, surrounded by people but still so obviously bored.

Until he saw you.

His eyes widened, then narrowed. You couldn’t hear him over the music, but his mouth formed your name.

You gave him a smile. Sweet. Defiant. And then you turned away.

He found you fifteen minutes later near the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, voice tight, one hand curling around your arm.

“Enjoying myself,” you replied coolly.

“I told you not to come.”

“No, you said I wasn’t invited. That’s different.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “Maybe I don’t care.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Anger, maybe. Or something deeper. You couldn’t tell. You didn’t care.

“Go home,” he said quietly. Too quiet.

“No.”

“Why are you being like this?”

You leaned in, lips almost brushing his ear. “Why are you always trying to stop me from living?”

You pulled back, held his gaze for one long moment, then disappeared back into the crowd before he could stop you.

You didn’t see him again after that.

Not downstairs.

Not until much later. But then, you hadn’t meant to go upstairs.

The second floor was off-limits during parties, just like he always said—laced with invisible caution tape, a no-man’s land reserved for secrets and shadows and things you weren’t supposed to know about. But maybe it was the alcohol making you bold. Maybe it was pride. Or maybe it was something darker. Something bitter blooming in your chest since the moment Hyunjin pulled you aside and told you to leave.

You hadn’t left.

And now you were here—bare feet whispering over the hardwood, hand trailing lightly along the banister as the sounds of the party dulled below. The upstairs hallway smelled different. Not like beer and cologne, but something warmer. Skin. Sweat. A hint of vanilla, musk, and something faintly feminine—lip gloss and moans pressed into pillows.

The light from the bathroom spilled into the hallway.

You turned toward it—and then the world shifted.

Hyunjin stood there.

Leaning back against the bathroom wall, one hand planted flat beside him, the other tangled in the hair of the girl on her knees.

You froze mid-step.

Your breath caught and stayed there, suspended in your throat like it refused to move past what your eyes were seeing.

His head was tilted down, gaze heavy-lidded, mouth parted just enough to make you think he’d been groaning a second ago. His chest rose and fell slowly, like he’d been at this for a while—and was far from done.

The girl knelt between his legs, shoulders squared, hands resting against his thighs for balance as she bobbed steadily, deliberately.

Your eyes dropped—without permission, without thought—and the breath you’d been holding turned to ash in your lungs.

Oh my god.

Hyunjin’s dick—long, thick, flushed dark and wet near the head—was disappearing into her throat like she’d done it before. Like she knew exactly how to take it, how to breathe through her nose and relax her jaw, how to slide down slow and deep until her chin met his pelvis.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your ears, your fingertips—like your whole body was blushing. Embarrassment, shock, something else entirely. You couldn’t look away. Your brain told you to. Your legs twitched like they were trying to backpedal. But your eyes stayed locked.

He looked up. Caught you. And didn’t stop.

No—he smirked.

It was slow. Sinful. Eyes half-lidded, arrogant and lazy, like he’d expected you to show up. Like this was a show and you were the audience of one.

His grip tightened in her hair, and she let out a choked whimper around him that made his cock twitch—you saw it. Felt it in your spine like it had happened to you. Then he pushed her down harder, deeper, until her lips met his base again and her throat made a sound that was part gag, part desperate moan.

He was so hard.

The lighting from the hallway caught on the flushed veins of his shaft as it reappeared with every pull back, wet and gleaming, before vanishing again inside her. It was hypnotic—the slow, slick drag of him sliding in and out of her mouth, her spit stringing between his skin and her lips every time he pulled out too far.

Your thighs pressed together. Automatically. Shamefully. There was no conscious thought behind it—just a tight, startled squeeze like your body had short-circuited under the weight of something sharp and unspoken.

He knew what he was doing. Knew you were there.

And that’s what ruined you.

It wasn’t just the act. It wasn’t the dick. It wasn’t even the girl, who was so gone on him she hadn’t noticed you yet. It was the look in his eyes. Like he was using you—your shock, your presence—to push himself deeper into pleasure. Like your gaze turned him on.

His smirk curled darker.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t stop.

And for one dizzy, breathless second, you thought he might even come like this—with you watching.

You stumbled back, breath hitching as your shoulder hit the hallway wall. The jolt snapped something inside you. Like surfacing from a dream.

You turned around fast and fled, nearly tripping over yourself as the sound of her mouth followed you—slick and obscene and real.

You didn’t stop until you were back downstairs, heart pounding, hands trembling, the crowd a blur of noise and color you couldn’t hear over the blood in your ears.

You needed air.

You needed answers.

But more than anything—You needed to understand what the fuck just happened to you.

He came after you.

You didn’t see him. But he did.

Just as you shoved through the front door of the house, your heart in your throat and the image of his dick still seared behind your eyes, Hyunjin’s hand released from her hair. He blinked—once, twice—like waking from a trance, like suddenly the oxygen had returned to the room and he remembered who was watching. What he’d just done.

He pushed the girl off him with a muttered curse, barely registering her dazed protest, and stumbled into the hallway, half-zipped, eyes scanning wildly for you.

He was too late.

You were already peeling out of the driveway.

He barely caught the flash of your taillights vanishing into the dark, headlights bouncing over gravel as your car sped down the road. No chance to call out. No way to stop you.

You were gone.

⸻

Your hands clenched the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white. The streets blurred past your windows in long, lonely streaks of light. You weren’t thinking about how fast you were going. Or whether it was safe. Or even why your throat was tight with something you couldn’t name.

You were thinking about him.

That fucking look in his eyes.

The way he stared straight through you while that girl sucked him off like she was born for it. The way his hips shifted forward ever so slightly, deeper, like he liked knowing you were watching. Like you being there was part of it.

The worst part?

It worked.

Your thighs hadn’t stopped clenching since.

You went straight to your dorm, threw the keys onto your desk with a clatter, and shut the door behind you like you were sealing something in. You weren’t even sure you’d locked it.

You leaned back against it, breathing hard.

Eyes wide. Mouth dry.

And wet between the legs in a way that felt wrong.

You sank to the floor without meaning to, knees folding under you like they couldn’t hold up your shame.

What was wrong with you?

You’d seen Hyunjin with girls before. Had heard the stories. Had walked in on his hookups before—once in his car, once in the hallway at some shitty house party where a girl’s lipstick smeared across his neck like war paint. You always rolled your eyes. Always scoffed.

You never felt this.

Never felt that cold flash of shock, followed by the heat creeping up your neck, then down, coiling in your stomach like hunger.

Because tonight… you saw everything.

His dick.

His face.

The way he controlled her—used her—and the way she let him. Willingly. Eagerly.

The sounds. The slick, wet rhythm. The twitch of his abs. The sharp jut of his hips. Her throat flexing to take him.

And his fucking smirk.

Like it wasn’t a blowjob. Like it was a performance. Like he was testing you.

You pressed your palms to your burning cheeks.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to rewind the night and punch him in the face.

You wanted to— Your hips shifted without you realizing. A slow, involuntary grind against the heel of your foot.

Your breath caught.

No. No, no, no, no.

But your body didn’t listen.

Your thighs squeezed, chasing the ghost of friction. Your stomach fluttered with shame and heat and the kind of arousal that came from places you’d never touched before—not like this. Not about him.

Not about your best friend.

Not about Hyunjin.

You pushed up from the floor with a groan, trying to shake it off. Walk it out. Breathe.

You stumbled to the mirror above your desk and froze.

Your reflection looked wrecked.

Eyes glassy. Lips parted. Hair wild from the wind and your trembling hands. You looked like someone who’d been touched—even though no one had laid a hand on you all night.

No one except your own thoughts.

And his eyes.

You hated him.

You hated that you didn’t.

You hated how your body was still humming from the sight of him.

You hated how wet you felt under your jeans.

And most of all, you hated how you knew—deep in the pit of your stomach—that something inside you had changed.

This wasn’t something you could forget.

You’d seen Hyunjin before.

But tonight… He’d let you see him.

And now there was no going back.

—

You ignored his texts.

Left the first two unread. Opened the third and fourth without responding. Then stopped opening them altogether.

He called you that night—twice.

You stared at his name lighting up your screen like it might burn through your retinas. You didn’t pick up. Couldn’t. Just lay in your bed, curled on your side with your phone face-down and your mind running in exhausting, endless circles.

You told yourself it was fine.

It was one mistake.

You’d both move on.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

And neither did he.

The next morning, you got up early on purpose.

You knew your routine would be off. It didn’t matter. Anything to avoid seeing him on campus, or worse—having him catch you off guard and look at you again the way he had the night before.

Not during. After.

Not like Hyunjin.

Like someone else. Someone who saw you differently now. Who made you see him differently too.

You dodged the usual lunch spot, skipped your shared class by faking a stomach ache, ignored the texts that were now showing frustration between the lines.

Hyunjin [9:43 AM]

You okay?

Hyunjin [11:02 AM]

Seriously, are you mad? Just fucking talk to me.

Hyunjin [1:14 PM]

Don’t do this. Please.

You hated him for making you feel like this.

But more than that—you hated yourself for how much you kept replaying it. Over and over, like some sick loop.

You avoided him all week.

By Friday, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d give up.

Until the knock came.

It was hard and sharp—three impatient raps at your dorm door like he was ready to break it down if you didn’t answer.

You froze mid-bite of your cereal, spoon dangling in the air.

Knock knock knock.

Your chest tightened.

You didn’t even have to look through the peephole. You knew that knock. The same rhythm he used every time he showed up uninvited, unannounced, acting like he owned your space—because for years, he kind of did.

Knock. Knock.

Then, “Open the door.”

Your pulse stuttered.

“Y/N.”

You gripped the counter. “Go away, Hyunjin.”

“No.” The word came through low, controlled, but something about it carried weight. You heard the restraint in it. The kind of self-control that didn’t last long on him. “We’re not doing this. Open the fucking door.”

You didn’t move.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You pressed your forehead against the cold fridge. Closed your eyes. Prayed he’d leave.

He didn’t.

“Seriously?” he said, tone hardening. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all week. And you’ve been pretending like I don’t exist. You won’t text me back. You dodge me on campus. Are you kidding?”

You stepped forward quietly, still not unlocking it. “I just need space.”

“You don’t get space. Not like this.”

Your chest flared with anger. “Yes, I do. You don’t get to decide—”

“I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Silence.

He hadn’t raised his voice. But those words hit you in the gut, sucked the breath right out of your lungs.

You stared at the door like it might crack and show you his face.

“You shouldn’t have been up there,” he said, more gently now. “But I shouldn’t have—fuck—I didn’t think.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“I know what you saw. I know how it looked. And I know it was fucked up. I’m not making excuses, but I need you to look at me and let me explain. Not just hide like I’m a fucking stranger.”

You hesitated.

Because he wasn’t a stranger.

He was Hyunjin.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

That you couldn’t look him in the eye now without remembering that smirk. That cock. That twitch of his hips while she swallowed around him.

And worst of all—how wet it made you.

You hated yourself for it.

Your hand moved before you decided anything, fingers fumbling at the lock.

It clicked open.

And then you stepped back.

Hyunjin stood there, hair pulled back in a loose bun, hoodie thrown over his shoulders like he hadn’t even dressed properly—just rushed over here, raw and unfiltered and wide-eyed.

He looked at you.

And for once, he didn’t smile.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Talk to me.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Try.”

You shook your head. “I’m embarrassed.”

He stepped closer. “Why?”

You glanced up at him. “You know why.”

A long silence stretched between you.

And then, slowly—he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

He didn’t come closer.

Not at first.

He just stood beside your door, eyes on you like you were something breakable, like if he moved too fast he’d make this worse.

You hated that. Hated how careful he was suddenly being with you.

Like you were the one who needed gentle handling after he—

You exhaled sharply and walked toward your desk, needing distance, needing to not smell his hoodie or feel the way your skin buzzed with awareness now that he was in your space.

Hyunjin’s voice came from behind you. Low. Almost cautious.

“You’ve never ignored me before.”

Your back stayed to him. “That was before I saw your dick halfway down someone’s throat, Hyune.”

He flinched at your voice. At the sharp edge of it.

But you weren’t sorry.

You were embarrassed. Humiliated. Turned on.

And you were angry that he didn’t get it.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen like that,” he said again, quieter this time. “It was just… one of those nights.”

“One of those nights,” you echoed flatly, turning to look at him now, arms crossed. “Where you get sucked off by some random girl in the hallway with the door open?”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t know the door was open.”

“But you knew I was there.”

A pause.

You didn’t miss the way he shifted.

The flicker in his expression.

“I didn’t mean to keep going,” he said. “I just—fuck—I looked up and you were standing there, and it was like—my brain short-circuited. I wasn’t even in my body.”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You smirked at me.”

He looked away. You wanted to punch him. Or kiss him. Or something.

Instead, you laughed bitterly. “I don’t even know what that was. You’ve never even looked at me like that. Like I was someone who could be affected by you. Like I was a girl at one of your parties instead of just… me.”

He stepped forward.

Slow. Controlled. Deliberate.

“I didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that either,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“At the top of the stairs,” he said softly. “You looked like I’d ripped something out of you. Like you didn’t know whether to run or come closer.”

Your lips parted.

You forgot how to breathe.

“I’ve never seen that look on your face,” he continued, stepping closer again, voice low and burning. “And it fucked with my head. I’m not gonna lie to you.”

You couldn’t speak.

Your heart was thudding so loud it drowned everything else out.

“Say something,” he said.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“Then say the truth.”

You swallowed. “The truth is that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

His breath hitched.

“And I hate that,” you added quickly. “I hate how it made me feel. I hate how it changed everything. I don’t want this to change things.”

“But it already did,” he said. “Didn’t it?”

Silence.

Your face felt like it was on fire. Your palms were sweating. You couldn’t even look at him now, because if you did, you might fold.

“I don’t want to be just another girl in your rotation, Hyunjin,” you said finally. “I’m not built for that.”

He stepped right into your space now, so close you had to look up at him.

His voice was softer now, almost pained. “You think I’d let you be just another girl?”

You hesitated. “Wouldn’t you?”

He stared at you.

Then, quietly—honestly—“No.”

Your breath caught.

“Then why didn’t you stop when you saw me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, his eyes flicked over your face like he was memorizing it.

And when he spoke again, his voice was rough and full of something you didn’t want to name yet.

“Because when I saw you standing there, I got hard in a different way.”

You felt the floor tilt.

“What?”

“I’ve had a number girls on their knees for me,” he said, unapologetic now. “But none of them ever made me feel like you standing there did.”

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t think.

You could only feel—heat crawling under your skin, confusion knotting in your throat, arousal twisting low in your stomach.

And guilt. So much fucking guilt.

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered.

“So then why,” he said, stepping even closer, “can’t I stop thinking about what it would feel like to see you on your knees instead?”

His words echoed in the air between you like something pulled from a fever dream.

You didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Just stared at him—Hyunjin—your best friend—like you didn’t recognize him anymore. Like you did, but through new eyes. Through the haze of something thick and hot and wrong.

Your voice came out barely audible.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth. “Tell me you don’t think about it.”

You wanted to. You should’ve.

But you didn’t. Instead, your body betrayed you—tipping forward, breath hitching, skin burning under his stare.

“I don’t,” you lied.

His jaw flexed. “Bullshit.”

And then something cracked wide open between you.

You didn’t know who moved first.

Maybe it was both of you.

But suddenly his hand was in your hair, and your mouth was crashing into his, and the taste of him hit you like a punch to the lungs—mint and something darker, something that shouldn’t have been familiar but was.

He kissed like he wanted to imprint on you.

No hesitation. No apology. No space for thinking.

Just tongue and teeth and years of silence breaking all at once.

You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed it—tilting his head, chasing the sound, backing you into the wall like gravity had flipped and he needed your body to stay standing.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lips dragging down your jaw, rough and open-mouthed. “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing to me—”

“Hyunjin—” you tried, but it was breathless, weak.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes wild. “You think I haven’t imagined this? Every fucking day since that night—”

Your chest heaved.

His hand slid down, gripping your hip, pulling you against him—and fuck, he was hard.

So hard it made you dizzy. So hard you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore either.

“Hyunjin—”

But he kissed you again before you could say anything else, and this time it was desperate. Less control. Less distance. Just the hot, undeniable press of his body against yours and the slick, obscene sound of your mouths meeting again and again.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, and he groaned into you like he’d been waiting years for this.

Like maybe he had.

Your head was spinning.

You weren’t supposed to want this.

You weren’t supposed to love the taste of him, the feel of his hand gripping your ass like he owned it, the low, broken sound he made when your thighs shifted and brushed where he was hard for you.

This was Hyunjin.

Your best friend.

The one who used to braid your hair when you were sick. The one who punched a guy in eleventh grade for calling you “easy.” The one who never looked at you like a girl.

But now?

Now he was looking at you like a man who’d been starving for too long.

And you were letting him.

You were kissing him back.

“Tell me to stop,” he panted against your lips. “Right now. Just say the word.”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it again.

He groaned—pained, like he wanted to be the better person.

But neither of you moved.

Because you couldn’t.

Because your body wanted this even if your mind was screaming.

And he could feel it in the way your hips tilted against his.

The way your lips parted for him again, again, when his tongue brushed yours.

So when he kissed you the third time, it was slower.

Angrier.

Like he was mad you let him do this. Mad at himself for needing it.

And when he finally broke away—breathing hard, eyes searching yours like he might come undone—you said the first honest thing of the night.

“I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

—-

It had been days since the kiss. Days since you both crossed a line and refused to talk about it. Days since every room you walked into with him felt like it was seconds away from combusting.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

You liked how his eyes followed you now. How he sat a little too close. How his thigh brushed yours and didn’t move. How his fingers sometimes caught your wrist and held you there a second too long. Like he didn’t mean to. Like he meant every second of it.

But most of all, you liked what it did to your head.

You thought about it all the time.

The bathroom. The way he looked. The size of him in her mouth. The way he didn’t stop when he saw you. The way he looked at you while she was still there on her knees. Like it didn’t matter who was pleasuring him—only who was watching.

It was sick. And hot.

And it made you touch yourself three nights in a row with your bottom lip between your teeth and his name barely whispered against your pillow.

Tonight, it finally broke you.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, too quietly, while you sat on his bed, knees drawn up, trying not to look at him.

Hyunjin was at his desk across the room, spinning a pencil between his fingers. He didn’t turn.

“Yeah?”

Your voice wavered. “Do you think things would go back to normal if I just… got it out of my system?”

He froze.

The pencil stopped spinning.

“What?”

You swallowed. “Like—if I did it. If I just… sucked your dick. Just once.”

Now he turned.

Full-body. Chair scraping against the floor.

You didn’t look at him, but you felt it.

Felt the weight of his stare.

Felt the breath leave the room.

“I’m serious,” you added when he didn’t speak.

His voice, when it came, was low. Disbelieving.

“You want to suck my dick.”

“I just…” You finally looked at him. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About that night. About… you.”

He blinked like he didn’t trust what he was hearing.

You kept going, digging the hole deeper. “I just want to know what it feels like. What you feel like. And maybe then… maybe it’ll stop haunting me.”

He stood up. Not even slowly. It was too fast, too jarring, and your breath hitched before you even realized you were backing against the headboard.

His voice was darker now. Low and flat. “You think blowing me is gonna cure you?”

“I think trying might,” you said. “And I trust you.”

He laughed—harsh, like it hurt to do. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you’re on your knees for me, I won’t be able to pretend it’s just for closure.”

Your thighs pressed together.

“Then don’t pretend,” you said.

He stared at you.

And then, without another word, he stepped between your knees and looked down at you like he was on the verge of snapping.

“Last chance,” he murmured, breath uneven. “Tell me not to do this.”

You didn’t.

You slid down to the floor in front of him instead.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his sweatpants, and he hissed softly when your hands brushed the outline of him.

Big. Thick. Heavy.

You already knew. You’d seen it.

But this—this was real.

You pulled them down slowly, watching as he sprang free—half-hard and still intimidating.

Your mouth went dry.

He wasn’t just big. He was gorgeous.

Veins and flushed skin, already thickening in your palm, and when your thumb brushed the slit, he groaned—low and guttural like it had punched out of him.

“Fuck—don’t tease me.”

You didn’t.

You wrapped your lips around the head and felt his thighs tense instantly. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was getting there—fast—thickening in your mouth, pulsing against your tongue.

He tasted like sweat and skin and salt, and when your tongue flattened along the underside, he cursed again, head falling back.

“Jesus, you’re—fuck, you’re good at that.”

Your hand pumped what didn’t fit, stroking him in rhythm with your mouth, slow and wet and wanting. You sucked harder and felt him twitch in your throat, and when you looked up, his eyes were already on you—burning.

That smirk you remembered was gone.

There was no smugness here.

Just hunger.

Your best friend. Undone.

He carded a hand through your hair—gentle at first, then tighter.

“Don’t stop,” he rasped. “Don’t even think about stopping.”

You didn’t. You let him slip deeper. Let your lips stretch wide, eyes watering when the tip kissed the back of your throat.

And when he moaned—actually moaned—you thought you might come from the sound alone.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You have no fucking clue what you’re doing to me.”

But you did.

You felt it in the way his hips started to move, shallow thrusts into your mouth as he got closer, the grip in your hair becoming possessive, desperate.

You weren’t just erasing the girl from the bathroom.

You were replacing her. Branding yourself into the part of his brain where he kept his dirtiest memories.

When he finally warned you he was close—breathless, twitching, shaking—you pulled back enough to look up at him, lips wet, chin messy.

“Let me swallow it,” you whispered.

He cursed. Loud.

And then he came. Hard and hot, spilling into your mouth with a broken groan as his hand stayed tangled in your hair, his other braced against the wall behind you.

You swallowed everything.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t break eye contact.

And when he finally opened his eyes again, you saw it.

The shift.

He wasn’t going to recover from this. And quite frankly, neither were you.

He was still catching his breath.

Still gripping the wall.

Still twitching between your fingers, glistening from your mouth.

And when you looked up at him like that—wide-eyed, flushed—he let out a ragged, broken sound.

Then he hauled you up off the floor with both hands.

You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on yours, kissing you like it wasn’t enough. Like he wasn’t enough. Like nothing in the world could ever satisfy the way he wanted you right now.

“Fuck,” he growled against your lips, voice low and frantic, “I can’t stop touching you—I can’t fucking stop.”

He kissed you deeper, tasting himself on your tongue, his fingers already gripping your waist too tightly, trailing up your spine like he needed to know every ridge, every breath. His palms cupped your jaw, then dropped to your ass, pulling you flush against him even though he was still half-soft and oversensitive.

You whimpered into his mouth.

“Hyunjin—”

“I know,” he rasped, lips trailing down your neck now, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. “I know, baby.”

His hand slipped under your shirt, then under your bra—like he couldn’t wait, like he’d been dying to do it and didn’t even realize it until now. His touch was rough, frantic, worshipping as he palmed your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until your knees buckled.

You tried to speak—tried to stop it before it got out of hand again—but you couldn’t.

Because he was already dragging your soaked thong down your thighs, snapping it off like it offended him, like he needed it gone yesterday.

“You wore this to my room?” he muttered, eyes dark as he tossed it across the floor. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t—” you breathed. “I didn’t know it’d happen like this—”

“Yeah?” he hissed, thumb brushing between your thighs now, rubbing your slit once, slow and purposeful. You jolted. “Then why are you this wet already?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t get the chance.

Because then he flipped you onto the bed, dropped to his knees in front of you and buried his face in your pussy like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

You cried out—hand flying to his shoulder, his hair—anything to ground yourself as his mouth locked onto your clit and sucked so hard it stole the air from your lungs.

“Hyunjin—oh my god—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

He groaned against you, lapping at your folds, tongue flicking and curling as he dragged you closer by the thighs, shoving one over his shoulder for better access. His fingers dug into your ass, tilting your hips just right so he could fuck his tongue into you deeper, wetter, filthier.

You couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Could barely stay upright.

Your back hit the headboard behind you, head thudding softly as he devoured you like he’d been starving for it—like he’d been dying for a taste ever since that night and just didn’t know it.

You sobbed his name, thighs shaking around his head, and he moaned in return—loud, guttural, desperate—sending vibrations straight through your cunt.

Your orgasm was building too fast. It was crawling up your spine, wrapping itself around your lungs, choking the words in your throat as you trembled against the wall.

“Hyun—Hyunjin—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growled, voice muffled in your heat. “Come on my tongue, baby—I want it.”

You shattered.

Head back. Fingers fisting his hair. Legs giving out completely.

And he kept going.

Licked you through it.

Swallowed everything.

Kept your legs open with his hands, his shoulders, his whole body, until you were twitching from overstimulation and trying to wriggle away.

Only then did he pull back.

His lips were swollen, chin slick, eyes glazed over with something feral.

“You thought sucking my dick would get me out of your system?” he panted, climbing back up your body.

You blinked at him, dazed.

He grabbed your jaw. Kissed you deep again, tongue tasting you on your own lips.

He was still breathing like he’d run a marathon.

Still gripping your waist like if he let go, he’d lose you again.

And then, out of nowhere, his voice broke—actually broke—low and hoarse and pleading against your neck.

“I need you… please.”

It wasn’t cocky. Wasn’t teasing.

It wasn’t a game anymore.

You froze.

Because hearing Hyunjin—your Hyunjin—say that like he was begging for you, like he needed you more than anything, did something to you. You didn’t even have to think. Your body moved before your brain caught up.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his blown-out pupils, the way he swallowed like he was choking on his restraint, the barely-there twitch in his cock where it still hung thick between you, wet with need.

And just like that, you made your decision.

No fear. No hesitation. Just need.

You pushed his hands off you—softly. Watched his brows furrow in confusion for just a second before you reached for the hem of your shirt and lifted it slow.

Deliberate.

His breath caught.

Your bra followed—dropped to the floor in silence.

And his eyes trailed down like he didn’t know what to look at first: your nipples tightening under the cool air, your flushed skin, the steady rise and fall of your chest as you unbuttoned your jean skirt that was already bunched at your waist.

“Wait—” he rasped, almost winded. “What are you—”

You slipped them down your legs, shoving everything else with it—your last bit of modesty peeled away and kicked off until you were lying fully naked in front of him, bathed in the soft amber light from his lamp. You didn’t hide. Didn’t look away. Not even when your cheeks flushed.

Instead, you leaned back slowly, then spread your knees wide with zero shame, hands sliding down your own inner thighs as you held yourself open for him—soaked, needy, shameless.

Ready.

“I want you,” you whispered, voice wrecked. “I don’t care what happens after. I just… need to give this to you.”

He blinked once—twice—like his brain short-circuited.

Then he broke.

He stumbled forward, his cock hardening again right before your eyes, fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to touch first.

“Fuck—fuck—you’re unreal—” he hissed, dragging his gaze across your body like it physically hurt him not to be inside you already. “I thought about this—so many times—and I didn’t even know I was thinking about it. You—you’re gonna kill me.”

You leaned back slightly, baring yourself even more. “Then die.”

That was all it took.

He was on you in seconds.

Kissing you deep, moaning against your lips like he was in pain, dragging his cock along your soaked folds with the kind of reverence that bordered on obsession.

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me?” he whispered into your skin, hands gripping your hips like you’d disappear. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna ruin you—I have to.”

You arched up, hips bucking, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Just do it.”

He lined himself up, breath hitching—eyes locked with yours.

Then slowly—deliberately—he started to push in.

You felt him stretch you inch by inch—hot, thick, impossibly deep.

And the moment Hyunjin sank in all the way, both of you just… froze.

He was buried inside you to the hilt.

His jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

And your walls fluttered around him, helpless and raw, like your body couldn’t believe it was him.

“Jesus…” he whispered, voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t think.

All you could do was whimper his name and clutch at his shoulders, the stretch of him lighting up nerves you didn’t even know existed. No one had ever filled you like this. No one had ever even come close.

And he knew it.

Hyunjin started to move—slow at first, like he didn’t want to rush it.

Each roll of his hips was molten, deep, pulling out just enough to press back in with maddening force, grinding against your sweet spot so perfectly it made your eyes roll.

“Fuck,” he moaned, voice low and reverent. “You take me so good, baby. So tight for me. Like this pussy was made for me.”

Your whole body jerked under him at that—at the pure filth of his praise, the way it slipped so easily from that mouth that had kissed your forehead a thousand times.

He saw it. Felt your cunt clench hard around him.

“Yeah?” he growled, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. “You like that? Being fucked by your best friend?”

You nodded frantically, back arching. “Hyun—Hyunjin—please.”

“Please what?” he hissed, thrusts snapping faster now. “Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“Please fuck me harder—don’t stop—don’t ever stop—”

That did it.

He growled something broken—unintelligible—and slammed into you harder, hips pounding against yours with a rhythm that had the whole bed shaking, creaking, your breath knocked out of you with every thrust.

You were already close again.

The pressure was building so fast it scared you—but you couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. You wanted to fall apart beneath him, wanted him to ruin you.

He leaned down suddenly—kissed you, deep and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours, swallowing every moan, every cry.

Then he pulled back to look at you. His expression softened—but it was worse, somehow. More intense. More raw.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” he panted. “I swear to God—you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

His thrusts slowed again—not stopping, but savoring now.

“You’re art,” he whispered, cupping your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek as he rocked into you so deep you gasped. “And I get to ruin you.”

You whimpered, tears brimming now—not from pain, not from fear—but from the weight of being seen like this. Loved like this. Even if he hadn’t said the word yet.

He felt your body tense beneath him—felt the way your cunt started to clamp down, so close to the edge you could taste it.

“You gonna come for me?” he whispered against your lips, voice breaking. “Come on, baby… Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart around my cock.”

You shattered.

Your back arched. Your mouth opened in a silent cry. Your whole body clenched so tight around him that he swore, stuttered, lost rhythm completely as you came around him.

“Fuckfuckfuck— you feel like heaven—” he groaned, then pulled out fast, stroking himself with messy, frantic hands. “Where? Where do you want it?”

You blinked up at him, still trembling. “My stomach. Please—just—show me.”

He let out a sound like he’d been holding his breath for years—then came hard with a desperate grunt, spilling hot and heavy all over your bare skin, streaks painting across your navel and hips as he moaned your name.

You lay there, both of you panting, your thighs still twitching as the aftershocks hit.

He collapsed beside you after a moment, still kissing your shoulder, your neck, your temple like he couldn’t stop.

Then he whispered, breath warm against your skin:

“I’m never letting anyone else touch you again.”

“What’s new?” You chuckled.

—-

The room was silent—Not the awkward kind. No.

Just heavy, saturated, sated silence. Like the whole room had exhaled with you.

You laid there on your back, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Your legs were limp. Your pulse was thrumming in your ears.

Hyunjin was beside you, chest heaving, one arm draped across your waist like his body had moved on instinct—like he still needed to keep you close even now. Especially now.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Your mind was too scrambled. You couldn’t even remember how to move, let alone what to say.

So you stared at the ceiling, the faint glow of the bedside lamp catching the sheen of sweat on your skin. You could still feel his hands on you—still feel the phantom stretch of his cock inside you. Your core ached in the most devastating, delicious way.

And then…

“…What the fuck did we just do?”

His voice was quiet. Like he was asking himself as much as he was asking you.

You blinked. Swallowed.

The words you were supposed to say—the things that would make it better, easier, less permanent—they just didn’t come. Your mouth opened, but your voice caught.

He shifted onto his side to face you, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.

His eyes were so soft.

Too soft.

And that was when the fear crept in.

Not fear of him, not of the sex, not even of how good it felt—but of the possibility that you’d broken something. That maybe your friendship couldn’t go back. That maybe you didn’t want it to.

“I didn’t mean for you to see me like that, you know? With her.” He started suddenly.

You winced.

“I know.”

“I tried to go after you when you ran off, you know?” he murmured. “Tried to talk to you after, but you just kept running from me.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t because you were mad. It wasn’t because you were hurt. It was because you were so turned on it scared you. Because every time you looked at him, you couldn’t stop imagining that girl in the bathroom, couldn’t stop wondering what it would feel like to be on your knees instead.

And now… you knew.

He leaned over you, hovering, but not crowding. Watching you with that same intensity he always had—but now it felt different. Loaded. You could feel it in your blood, in the way your body still buzzed from him.

“I should be sorry we took it this far,” he said. “But I’m not.”

Your breath caught.

He reached down, fingers brushing through the mess he’d left on your stomach, slow and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he’d done that to you—with you.

“I’ve wanted you like this for longer than I was willing to admit.”

You blinked. “But you never… You never looked at me like that.”

“I didn’t let myself.”

His voice dropped, rough and raw again.

“I didn’t want to fuck this up. You were the only thing that wasn’t a game to me. I didn’t want to ruin you the way I ruin everything else. But the second I saw you watching me… that night… the second I realized what I’d done—what I might’ve just lost—I couldn’t stop.”

You swallowed.

Something twisted in your chest—sharp and sweet all at once.

“I don’t know what this means,” you whispered.

“I do,” he said simply. “It means I’m all yours now.”

You laughed, breathless, half-shaky. “Since when?”

“Since always,” he said. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

You paused. Heart thundering.

Then slowly, you turned toward him—reached out and dragged your fingers down his chest, resting them just above his heart.

And this time, when he kissed you, it was slow. Intentional. Worshipful.

He pulled the blanket over your bodies, curled around you like you were something sacred.

Neither of you said another word.

But you knew.

Things weren’t going back to normal.

They were becoming something better.

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

Authors note: Guys i have so much unfinished fics 😭 i see all your requests i promise and i am writing them!! But yeah lets have some Hyunjin love today 😍😍🤭🤭 Tell me if you want to be added or removed from my taglist! But dont forget to like and reblog 🍒

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8 @sunflwerstar

[m0ri-apeuda]

S h u t U p a n d S i t S t i l l

Tattoo Artist!Kim Seungmin x Reader | He tattoos like a surgeon and fucks like a sadist. You showed up for ink. He gave you obsession.

🔞synopsis: Tattoo Artist AU. you walked into NO SAINT INK for a rib tattoo—left with trembling thighs, his hoodie around your neck, and a cock you can't stop dreaming about. Seungmin is quiet, sharp-tongued, and mean in the best ways: he bends you over the bench, fucks you until you cry, then wipes you down and feeds you strawberries like you're his favourite masterpiece. It starts with your seventh tattoo. Ends with you moaning his name every night, in his bed, in his hoodie, with his fingers under your panties. This isn’t just art. It’s obsession. And now he’s your boyfriend too—lucky you.

💌a/n: i literally don’t remember who requested tattoo artist seungmin first. either way. you got it. the man who fucks you stupid then wipes you down like he’s cleaning his favourite mug. HE’S HERE. AND HE’S IN LOVE (but would rather die than admit it out loud) 🫶🍓🖤. also? 🔔 THE MINI SERIES ORDER HAS BEEN DECREED 🔔 next up: JEONGIN. after that: ⟡ MINHO ⟡ CHANGBIN ⟡ FELIX and then finally—drumroll, throat clear, studio lights flickering— BANG CHRISTOPHER FUCKING CHAN. the cherry on top. the tattoo daddy. the final boss of soft filth and filthy softness. pray for me. p.s. if you liked it, if you screamed, if your thighs clenched even ONCE—REBLOG IT. LIKE?? yes. COMMENT?? also yes. p.p.s. if i catch you in the notes saying “need him biblically,” “he wiped me down like a canvas,” or “not the strawberries 😭”—just know i love you. violently 💋 p.p.s. see u next Tethered Tuesday with Jeonginnie~

⚠️ warnings: 18+ | MINORS DNI | Bench sex / semi-public (studio after hours) | Mean dom!Seungmin | Praise kink, brat taming, overstimulation | Spit play, creampie, multiple orgasms | Oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex | Aftercare king behaviour | Reader is shameless and mildly unhinged | Seungmin is quiet, dangerous, and obsessed

📌 Please read responsibly. Hydrate. Stretch. You are the CEO of your own coochie.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Charmer — Stray Kids « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:09 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Seoul, South Korea. Tuesday, 3:12 PM.

You push the door open with your hip, bells jingling overhead as warm incense curls toward the ceiling — sandalwood, patchouli, something citrusy beneath it all. It’s always like this at NO SAINT INK. Chill beats humming low, Felix probably somewhere in the back rearranging his piercing tools like he’s Marie Kondo with a needle fetish, and—

“Fuck,” a voice mutters from behind a half-drawn curtain. You grin. Found him.

Kim Seungmin.

The reason you have six tattoos—and the reason you keep coming back for more.

You strut past the front desk like you own the place, setting down your tray of iced americanos and pastries with the confidence of someone deeply annoying. Your seventh session. Four healed pieces, one still peeling, and the newest one inked just last month. And of all the artists here, you keep picking the same one. On purpose.

Seungmin doesn’t look up at first. He’s sketching something at his desk—lined in ruler-straight precision, every pen stroke exact, no wasted ink. Hair slightly tousled. Sleeves rolled. Black gloves already on like he’s been prepping to ruin someone’s day.

He finally lifts his eyes—and groans.

“Why are you here again?”

“Hi to you too, sunshine,” you chirp, sipping your iced coffee with maximum slurp.

“I told Felix to screen your bookings.”

“I bribed him with matcha cake. Also, he says hi.” You swing the drink tray toward him with flair. “Got you your usual. Thought you could use the energy. You looked a little pale last time.”

He stares. “You’re lucky I don’t stab clients.”

“You already do,” you smile sweetly, plopping into the client chair. “It’s called tattooing.”

You met him through Felix, of course—NO SAINT INK’s glittery menace and certified piercing god. You came in on a whim two years ago for a constellation of helix piercings and left with a phone background of Felix’s stupid peace sign and a mouth full of swear words after he showed you Seungmin’s tattoo portfolio. Clean lines. Razor-sharp contrast. Occasional anatomical sketches paired with poetry in tiny, deliberate script.

When you told Felix you wanted something specific for your first tattoo—a geometric wolf across your ribcage—he nodded once and said, “Seungmin’s your guy.”

You’ve hated him ever since.

He’s impossible. Quiet, dry, sarcastic in a way that feels like a dare. Doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t smile. He just tattoos like he’s building something permanent—measured, focused, untouchable. But when you’re the one under his needle? His fingers linger a little too long on your waist. His voice drops when he tells you to hold still. And you—being the insufferable brat you are—live to poke at the ice until it cracks.

Which is why you’re here today. For tattoo number seven.

From him. Again.

“Let me guess,” he says, sipping the coffee despite himself. “Some half-baked Pinterest inspo you expect me to redesign overnight?”

“I’m hurt,” you pout dramatically. “I actually brought a reference this time. Plus, I figured you missed me.”

“I miss peace and quiet.”

“Then why’d you pick a career where girls beg to get pinned under you?”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move. Just says, “Get on the table before I change my mind.”

You smirk. There it is. That little twitch in his jaw. That flick of his tongue against the inside of his cheek when you say something just annoying enough to rattle the cage.

You pull out your sketch. “I want it here,” you say, lifting your shirt to gesture just below your sternum, to the space between your breasts and your ribs. “Delicate linework. Abstract. Your specialty.”

Seungmin stares. Then sighs. “You do realize I’ll have to touch you for placement.”

“Oh no,” you gasp, faux-innocent. “That would be terrible.”

He drops the clipboard with a snap.

“You’re unbearable.”

“You’re obsessed.”

Seungmin mutters something under his breath—probably a curse, probably in two languages—as he snatches your sketch and jerks his head toward the back hallway.

You follow with a smug little skip in your step.

The private rooms at NO SAINT INK are all artist-personalized. Seungmin's? It’s all dark wood, clean steel, framed minimalist pieces, and surgical-grade tidiness.

Cedar diffuses from a sleek black humidifier in the corner. The light is warm-toned and angled perfectly. His iPad sits on a tidy desk, stylus already beside it like it was placed there with a ruler. And on the windowsill—three succulents. Perfectly spaced. You teased him about it once and he deadpan replied, “One for every time you’ve wasted my time.”

He drops your paper sketch on his desk and sits, spinning the iPad toward him with a sigh. “You’ve got five minutes to explain what the hell this is.”

You plop down in the rolling stool beside him, leaning your chin on your hand. “It’s art. Use your imagination.”

He gives you a long, deeply unimpressed look.

“Fine,” you huff. “It’s… inspired by sacred geometry. Like a mandala, but cracked open. Fragmented. I want it to feel like breaking and healing at the same time. Like symmetry trying to reassemble itself.”

Seungmin blinks. Then blinks again.

“…You pulled that out of your ass just now.”

“I did not.”

“Did too.”

“Seungmin.”

He groans and starts sketching.

You watch, quiet now—because this is the part you actually love. The way his fingers move when he draws. Controlled, calculated. Not robotic. Not sterile. There’s warmth there, if you know where to look. And you do.

He sips the coffee you brought like it’s medicine. Then grabs a croissant and bites it with grim resolve, like chewing it too quickly might register as gratitude.

“I still think you bribed Felix with blackmail.”

“He was emotionally weak. I seized the moment.”

“You’re a menace.”

“And you’re drawing me the prettiest trauma-symbol I’ve ever seen, so who really wins here?”

He doesn’t answer. But his pen slows. His strokes get sharper. He’s in his element now. You recognize the shift—the way he leans in closer to the iPad, slightly squints, drags his stylus with deliberate precision.

The design blooms under his hand: a fractured mandala, circular symmetry interrupted by jagged arcs and broken segments. Clean dotwork in the center, a few splashes of abstract floral curls breaking out near the bottom edge. Like order blooming from chaos. Like something whole again.

“You’re disgusting,” you whisper, stunned. “That’s perfect.”

“I know.”

“Arrogant.”

“You begged me for it.”

“I said please once and you moaned like I kicked your dog.”

He flicks his eyes to you, slow. “Say please again.”

You blink.

Then smirk. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

But he’s already reaching for the print button.

“Let’s stencil this,” he says coolly, rising from his chair and heading towards the printer to print the design out. “I’d like to be rid of you before sundown.”

“Careful,” you say, trailing him out of the room. “One day you’ll miss me when I’m gone.”

“Promise?”

“Never.”

While he is busy with the printer, you kick your shoes off and climb onto the bed like it’s yours.

Technically, it’s a client bench. Adjustable, padded, wrapped in fresh black vinyl. But in your mind? It’s a throne. A stage. A perfect little altar for the games you play with Kim Seungmin.

You wiggle into place, tugging your top over your head in one smooth motion. You’re down to your bralette now—delicate black lace with scalloped trim, something clearly chosen on purpose. Not slutty. Not overt. But just enough to see Seungmin’s jaw tighten when he walks back in.

He’s still fiddling with the stencil printer—cutting the sheet, prepping it with solution. Focused. Professional. Cold, as ever.

You lounge, arms folded behind your head, watching him from the bed like you’re sunbathing and he’s just lucky to be in your light.

“You gonna stare the whole time?” he murmurs without looking up.

“Am I bothering you?”

“Always.”

You grin.

Just then—click—the door swings open, and Felix’s voice rings through the room.

“Hey, demon duo—just letting you know I’m locking up soon. Jisung dipped early, and Chan-hyung’s out all day, so it’s just you two in the studio for the rest of the afternoon.” He wiggles his brows. “Try not to kill each other. Or fuck. Or both.”

Seungmin doesn’t look up. “Go away, Felix.”

“Don’t be rude. I brought you into this world.”

“I was here first.”

“Emotionally? Never.” Felix flicks his brows toward you. “Good luck, baby girl. If he’s mean, just call me and I’ll stab his tires.”

You salute him. “Noted. Drive safe.”

With a wink, Felix is gone. The click of the studio door locking behind him feels final. Loud.

Seungmin exhales slowly. Then turns.

You’re still lying there on the bed, head propped, shirt discarded, body sprawled like a damn invitation.

His gaze flickers once. Down. Then away. Then back again, like it physically pains him to give you that much attention.

He lifts the stencil paper, holds it up to the light. “You know this placement is gonna be tricky.”

“Delicate linework on soft skin,” you echo sweetly. “Your specialty.”

He levels you with a look. Flat. Dangerous. Amused.

“…You’re going to be impossible today.”

“I’m always impossible.”

“No,” he says, slipping on gloves with a soft snap, “today it’s worse. Today you want something.”

You blink, feigning wide-eyed innocence. “Me? Never.”

He steps forward, slow and deliberate, stencil sheet in one hand, alcohol wipe in the other.

“Sit up,” he says, voice low. Commanding. “And lift your arms. I need a clean canvas.”

You obey—grinning like a menace—arms up, ribs exposed, breath catching slightly as the cold wipe grazes under the swell of your breast. He’s careful. Professional. Completely murderous about it.

The tension is a wire, pulled tight between you.

He smooths the stencil paper across your skin, presses down, then peels it back slowly, eyes trained on the imprint left behind.

It’s beautiful.

Nestled between your ribs, spanning just above your solar plexus: the fractured mandala blooms in fine linework, cracked yet radiant. His style. His hand. His art.

And now—it’s on you.

Seungmin looks at it for a beat too long.

Then: “Lie back.”

You do.

He adjusts the overhead lamp. Tilts your chin slightly. Brushes a single finger along your sternum, just below the stencil line.

You shiver.

He smirks.

“Try not to squirm this time,” he says. “You’ll fuck up the symmetry.”

Finally, Seungmin moves again. Gloves snap into place—tight, black latex stretched over knuckles and the fine lines of his fingers. You watch him through lowered lashes as he pours ink into the caps—his shade of black. You’ve learned that by now. Not too warm. Not too blue. Just sharp enough to slice through skin and stay.

The hum of the machine starts soft. Like a warning. Like a purr with teeth.

He looks at you once.

Just once.

And you know he’s not going to go easy.

“You good?” he asks, voice flat.

You nod, smug. “You always ask like you care.”

“I do care,” he mutters, tilting your chin again with a gloved hand. “Would be a shame if my art got fucked up because someone couldn’t keep still.”

Your eyes narrow. “Someone?”

He dips the needle, tests the line on a pad, and leans forward—right into your space. His breath ghosts over your lips.

“You.”

You roll your eyes and shift slightly, arms up, chest rising.

“God, you’re such a dick.”

His smirk could slice bone.

“And you’re still here. What does that say about you?”

You go to reply—but the first sting of the needle hits, and the breath punches from your lungs.

“F-fuck—!”

“Oh?” Seungmin says innocently, hand steady as he traces the mandala’s outer ring. “Is it too much already?”

You grit your teeth, exhale through your nose.

“No. Just... colder than I remembered.”

He hums like he doesn’t believe you. Like he knows what you’re really reacting to.

The first lines burn clean and sharp—stretching out beneath your skin, each pass as exact as a scalpel. Seungmin works in slow, confident strokes, one hand guiding your body where he needs it.

His fingers splay across your ribcage for tension. Firm. Possessive. Cruel.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just tattoos. Focused. Controlled.

But then—

“You know,” he murmurs, “most people don’t come back after their first rib piece.”

You hiss, fingers curling into the vinyl under you. “Most people don’t have your charming personality to keep them coming.”

He chuckles. Actually chuckles. Which should be illegal.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” he says.

The needle lifts for a second. He wipes gently with a cloth—soft at first, then firm, dragging over raw skin like he’s making a point.

You arch just slightly into his touch.

“I’m getting off on annoying you,” you counter, breath shaky.

His next line is faster. Harsher. He presses your side firmly, keeping you in place.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, low against your neck. “Then try really hard not to flinch right here.”

You flinch.

He clicks his tongue. “You’re so fucking bad at taking orders.”

“And you’re so—”

The machine stops.

He raises a brow. Wipes again. Slow this time.

“I’m so what?”

You glance down. Past his gloved hand on your ribs. Past the half-finished mandala. Past the slight smear of ink on your sternum.

You swallow.

“…focused.”

He smirks. Dangerous. “Damn right.”

And then he leans in—his next line beginning right where your breath catches worst. Right under your breast. Right on the spot where your heartbeat flutters like it’s begging him to notice.

You think he does.

Because his voice dips—deeper, smugger.

“Still think I missed you?”

You bite your lip.

Lying here. Under his hands. Wrapped in tension and black ink and the sharp, brutal pressure of a boy who tattoos like he’s angry at your skin for hiding itself from him—

You can’t lie.

Not to Seungmin.

“…yeah,” you say quietly.

His eyes flick up when you say it.

Yeah.

One syllable, quiet as breath, but loaded—the way confession always is. He doesn’t reply, not out loud. But the corner of his mouth lifts. Not a smirk. Something more dangerous. Something knowing.

He tilts your body slightly to one side, guiding you into the perfect angle, and you let him. Of course you let him.

“Still breathing okay?” he murmurs, even though he knows damn well what your breathing sounds like right now—shallow, choked, tight.

“Mhm,” you manage.

He presses back down with the needle. His strokes are smoother now, filling in the fractured petals of the mandala. He works just beneath the undercurve of your breast, just along the swell of sensitive skin—close enough to tease, close enough to make you ache.

You twitch. Barely. But enough.

He doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t have to.

Because when he lifts the needle to switch angles, he uses his other hand to press firmly along your waist, holding you in place. His fingers curl just slightly into your side. Possessive. Grounding. A little cruel.

You shudder.

“Still can’t take orders,” he mutters.

You glare. “Still a fucking sadist.”

He hums. “Takes one to keep coming back.”

That earns him a punch to the shoulder—gentle, a flick of your knuckles—but he’s already grinning as he dips the needle again.

Your skin burns.

And still—still—you want him closer.

The ink trails down now, toward the bottom of the design. He’s practically tattooing over your stomach, your diaphragm pulsing with every breath. He’s leaning in lower too—head bent, nose just inches from your sternum. If he angled left, he’d be mouth-to-skin. If you arched just slightly, you’d be brushing right into him.

The tension hums in the air—hot, oppressive, close.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low again. This time it’s not mocking. It’s… loaded.

You nod once. “Are you?”

He glances up.

“Been better,” he mutters. Then, deliberate: “You squirm too much.”

You lift your eyes to his—taunting, daring. “You tattoo too slow.”

That gets you a sharp tap against your side.

“Careful.”

“Make me.”

The machine goes quiet.

You blink.

Seungmin sits back, gaze steady. Gloved fingers still resting against your stomach.

“You always this mouthy when someone’s on top of you?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know.

Your heart stutters.

You open your mouth—then close it.

He watches you for a second longer—until you shift just slightly under his stare. And only then does he lean back in, restart the machine, and murmur:

“Thought so.”

The final line burns sweeter than the rest.

Your breath hitches again—not from the pain, not really. You’ve gotten used to the sting. You chase it now. Crave it. Especially when it’s from him.

Seungmin finishes with a few last passes, the machine humming low and steady, until finally—he stops.

The silence after feels too quiet.

You blink up at the ceiling. It’s over. And suddenly your whole body is aware of how tense it’s been—your spine bowed slightly, your legs tight, your hands fisted in the sheets beneath you like you’ve been trying not to moan the whole time.

(You kind of have.)

He switches the machine off. The room exhales.

You stay lying down for a beat too long.

Then you hear the snap of his gloves being pulled off. The rustle of the rolling stool as he pushes back. The low clink of metal—his tools being set aside, wiped, lined up again with military precision. He always cleans up like he’s scrubbing evidence.

You sit up slowly, your ribs feel warm, raw—but not in a bad way.

He’s already tossed the gloves into the bin and is reaching for the mirror. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, biting your lip as you peek down.

The mandala gleams—inky black and flawless, nestled beneath the swell of your breasts like it belongs there.

Your breath catches.

“…fuck,” you whisper.

Seungmin glances over.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know.”

You shoot him a look. “Cocky much?”

He shrugs, reaching for his disinfectant spray like it’s nothing. “Not my fault I’m better than everyone else.”

You laugh—quiet, low, still slightly winded. “I should stop feeding your ego.”

“You should stop showing up half-naked and asking me to touch you for two hours.”

You freeze.

He doesn’t even blink.

You’re perched on the edge of the bed now, ribcage still bare. And he’s standing barely a foot away, still wiping his tools, still calm—but his jaw is tight again. His fingers grip the disinfectant bottle like he’s trying to decide whether to clean your table or ruin your day.

The air shifts.

Slowly, you stand—stepping forward. His eyes flick downward. Just once. Then he meets your gaze.

“…Seungmin.”

He raises a brow.

You step closer. Bold. A little breathless. “You never said thank you.”

He tilts his head. “For what?”

“The coffee. The pastries. My continued emotional support and aesthetic contribution to your client portfolio.”

He snorts. “Oh, right. How could I forget.”

“You could show some gratitude,” you say, smile growing. “Like, I dunno…”

A beat.

You lean in.

“…a kiss, maybe?”

He stares at you—flat, unreadable.

Then, finally, finally—his hands stop moving. The rag drops from his fingers. His jaw twitches once.

And he says, voice low: “Lay back down first.”

Your breath stops. “W-What—”

“For the aftercare,” he says—completely serious. But his eyes are glinting, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corners. “Unless you want it to get infected.”

You huff, but you obey—because of course you do.

You lie back down, ribs lifting with every inhale, the crisp air of the studio brushing across your skin. Seungmin moves slowly—methodical, precise. He reaches for the healing balm and the bandage roll with the same focus he uses when prepping a tattoo needle.

And then—

Then he steps into your space again.

You feel his gaze before his hands. That lingering look, dragging from the ink across your sternum to the fine lace of your bra. To the soft dip between your breasts. You’re not stupid—you know how you look. You know how he’s looking.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Just kneels beside you on the tattoo bed, bracing one arm by your head, and starts applying the balm.

It’s… soft. Softer than it should be.

His gloved fingers glide gently across your skin, cool gel easing the sting of the fresh lines, but what you feel isn’t clinical. It’s heat. A low, blooming throb of something far more dangerous. Especially when his thumb grazes the edge of your bra. Not on purpose, not exactly—but he doesn’t move it away either.

You exhale. Carefully. Slowly.

His voice comes quieter this time, rough around the edges.

“You really wore this just to fuck with me, didn’t you?”

You blink up at him. “Excuse me?”

“This,” he murmurs, brushing the bandage wrapper open, eyes never leaving yours. “The lace. The black. The fact that it’s barely covering anything while I have to touch you like a fucking monk.”

You smirk. “What, don’t like being teased?”

His eyes narrow. “You’re not teasing.”

“No?”

“You’re begging.”

Your stomach flips.

He leans down slightly. Applies the bandage. His fingers skim the top edge of your sternum, then press lightly under your breast to make it stick. You jolt a little—not enough to be a flinch, but just enough for him to notice.

His lips twitch. “Thought so.”

You swallow.

“You could’ve said something,” you murmur.

“I did,” he says. “When I told you to stop showing up half-naked and flirty like I wouldn’t do anything about it.”

“And yet—” you gesture around, breathless, “—you haven’t.”

He finishes pressing the bandage into place. Carefully. Slowly. But his eyes—his eyes are anything but.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says softly.

And then he leans in. Close. Close enough that his breath grazes your cheek, close enough that the heat of his body curls over yours like smoke.

“I’m just not done punishing you yet.”

You barely have time to gasp.

Because his hands are suddenly on your waist, fingers splayed wide, warm. He leans over you, lips brushing your ear as he speaks, voice like smoke curling from a lit match.

“You really think I’d let you keep pushing me forever?” he murmurs, his tone dark velvet, laced with something wicked. “Waltzing in here every time with that mouth—wearing shit like this—knowing damn well I’d eventually snap.”

You can’t speak.

Not with the way his hand is sliding up—up—fingertips skating the edge of your ribcage, the outline of your bra, the warm silk of your skin. Every inch he touches makes your back arch, breath stutter, pulse thunder.

“I—I didn’t—” you start.

“You did.” He cuts you off with a growl of a whisper, lips ghosting just beneath your jaw. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And you knew exactly who you were doing it to.”

His hand finds the clasp of your bra—flicks it once, expertly. Loose. Deliberate.

Lace falls.

You whimper.

He exhales sharply through his nose—his palm sliding up to cup you fully, thumb brushing across a nipple already sensitive from all that adrenaline and ink and restraint. The tension coils tighter—like it’s been waiting weeks to snap.

“You’ve been needing this,” he mutters against your skin. “Coming in again and again—acting like a brat. Begging for attention. Flashing me those looks like I wouldn’t fuck you into the goddamn wall the second I got the chance.”

A pause.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, mouthing down your throat, sucking once—hard. “You wanna be my canvas off-hours too?”

You nod. Frantic. Breathless. Your fingers clutch at the hem of his shirt, tugging, anchoring, pleading.

“Say it.”

“I wanted you,” you pant. “I want you. I’ve always—fuck—Seungmin—”

He snarls.

And that’s it.

His mouth finds your breast with zero pretense, tongue hot and teeth grazing—biting, not cruel, but enough to leave a mark. His other hand slides down, past your waistband, finding the thin lace of your underwear—

Already soaked.

You feel him smirk against your skin.

“Such a fucking mess,” he growls. “You come from the needle or from me?”

You writhe.

“Seungmin—”

“Yeah?” His fingers slip beneath the lace. “Lie to me again. See what happens.”

And then—

Then he presses in. Two fingers, all at once, knowing exactly where and how to touch you. Because he’s studied you. Memorized you. Sketched you in his mind over six tattoos and hours of tension, and now he finally gets to wreck you.

His fingers curl.

You break.

Your head falls back. Your thighs tremble. He’s still got one arm braced next to your head, and the other is fucking you open while his mouth maps every inch of your chest like it’s sacred.

“You’re mine now,” he mutters into your skin. “You wanted this? You earned this. So take it.”

You moan—high, wrecked, nearly slurred. His fingers don’t relent. Curling deep. Unforgiving. He’s fucking you with them like he’s trying to carve his name inside you, and maybe he is.

But just when it starts to crest—when you feel it, the rush, the crash, the electric burn starting in your spine—

He stops.

You jolt. “No—!”

He pulls out slow. Cruel. Slick fingers dragging free. You clench around nothing, hips chasing him, tears prickling your lashes.

He tsks.

“Thought you were smarter than that.”

You blink, dazed. “Wh-What—?”

“You think you get to cum already?” He leans down, lips brushing your ear again. “After walking in here like that? After tormenting me for months?”

His hand finds your throat—light pressure, just enough to pin you back against the vinyl bed. Your mouth falls open. Instinct.

“I spent hours sketching that design,” he whispers. “Tattooed it on your fucking ribs. You came in here dripping and smug and bratty. And you think you get to finish first?”

You whimper.

He lets go.

“Get on your knees.”

You blink. “W-What?”

“You heard me.”

He stands, undoing his belt in one smooth motion—his eyes never leaving yours. You follow his gaze down, down, as he pushes his jeans low and his boxers lower, cock flushed and leaking and so fucking hard.

You drop to your knees, onto the soft rug in his private studio, beneath the overhead lamp and the echo of the bed creaking behind you.

“Open,” he says tapping the tip of his cock against your pretty lips.

You blink up at him, lips parted, brain still catching up to the command. Seungmin doesn’t flinch, doesn’t repeat himself—he just stares down, eyes half-lidded, cock heavy in his hand, tapping the head once more—twice—against your bottom lip like a test.

You obey.

Mouth open. Knees aching. Head swimming.

"Good," he murmurs, voice like low thunder.

One hand tangles in your hair—possessive—guiding, not forcing. His hips roll forward, slow and controlled, and the first brush of him on your tongue makes you whimper. Your thighs press together instinctively.

Because he tastes like every fantasy you’ve denied yourself. And he’s watching you the whole time—jaw tight, chest rising, his gaze flicking between your mouth and your eyes like he's trying to brand the moment into memory.

“You always run your mouth,” he mutters, stroking your cheek with his thumb as you take him deeper, “but you’re so fucking quiet now, huh?”

You hum around him, tongue flattening, jaw straining, eyes locked on his like it’s the only anchor you have. He groans—quiet, raw, like it slips out before he can stop it.

Your hands steady on his thighs, you suck deeper. Hollow your cheeks. Let him feel everything.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You really—shit—you’re good at this, huh?”

You moan, just to be a brat. The vibration makes him jerk.

His fingers twitch in your hair. The other hand finds the back of your neck, thumb pressed right where your pulse jumps.

“Greedy,” he mutters, breath stuttering as you pull back slow—spit-slick, lips flushed—then take his cock again, deeper this time, choking a little and loving it. “You want all of it, don’t you?”

You blink up at him, teary-eyed and burning, and nod.

And that’s all it takes.

His grip tightens. His hips roll. Controlled at first, almost gentle—but the moment you relax your throat and let him in further, something cracks.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The next thrust punches straight down your throat.

You choke—once, loud and messy—but you don’t pull away.

You don’t dare.

Not when Seungmin’s hand tightens in your hair like a leash. Not when his cock sinks deep, hot and throbbing and slick with your spit. Not when his groan scrapes straight from his chest, raw and filthy, as he watches your throat swallow around him.

“Fuck—” he snarls, voice strained. “You were made for this. Look at you.”

You try—your eyes flicking up through the blur of tears, spit dripping from your lips, mascara smudged beneath your lashes. You can barely see, but you feel everything—his fingers curled at the base of your skull, his cock throbbing on your tongue, the harsh stretch of your jaw.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he pants. “Spit everywhere—shit—drooling on me.”

You are—slick and soaked, saliva trailing from the corners of your mouth to your chin, coating his cock in glistening sheen. You gag again when he presses deeper, but he doesn’t let up.

“Take it,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Take it. You fucking wanted this.”

He rolls his hips again—harder this time. Meaner. The tip of his cock bruises the back of your throat, and you sob around it, spit bubbling at the seams.

Seungmin hisses. “Yeah. That’s it.”

His hand tilts your head—just slightly—enough for him to watch you from above. “Look at you. Fucking crying for it.”

You blink up, lashes clumped and wet, mouth stretched open and obscene.

“Don’t stop,” he growls. “Wanna see you ruined.”

He fucks into your mouth like it’s a punishment. Like every gag, every wet choke is a penance you owe for teasing him for months. For bratty texts. For lace bralettes and stolen glances. For every look that said take me without saying a word.

Your throat tightens—and he moans.

“God—your throat—shit, I can feel it. Fucking clenching like your pussy would.”

You twitch.

He laughs—low and cruel. “What, you liked that? Want me to fuck both ends until you can’t walk or talk?”

You whimper around him. Loud.

Precum spills onto your tongue—hot and bitter—and he curses. Your hands claw at his hips, digging for purchase as he starts to lose it—thrusts jerking harder, messier. Your throat is raw, face soaked, and still—still—you stay open for him.

His voice shatters through your haze, ragged and mean.

“You look fucking perfect like this. Broken. Beautiful. Mine.”

One more thrust. Deep. Sharp.

You gag—again. Loud.

And Seungmin snaps. He jerks back suddenly—his cock pulling free with a slick pop, strings of spit connecting you still. You gasp—cough—spit dripping from your tongue.

“Open wider,” Seungmin rasps.

You do. Tongue out. Strings of drool glistening in the studio light. He grabs his cock—slick, flushed, twitching—and strokes once, twice—then spits. Right into your mouth. Then again. Then again.

You moan. Loud. Shameless.

“Filthy little thing,” he pants. “Look at you. Covered in spit and tears and fucking loving it.”

You nod. Once. Hard.

He leans down, cupping your jaw—thumb swiping through the mess on your chin, dragging it across your lips like warpaint. Seungmin's eyes watch you for a beat longer until he finally helps you up onto your feet.

You gasp, legs wobbling, mouth still slick and open as he turns you around and places a hand between your shoulder blades, coaxing you down on the bench.

“Hands flat,” he orders.

You obey.

He kicks your legs apart with his knee—rough. You gasp. Then moan, throat raw and spit-slick, head swimming from the sudden repositioning. His hands working quick, pulling down your pants and panties in one go. Seungmin hums in satisfaction at the sight of your wet cunt dripping. Fucking dripping.

“Better,” he mutters. “Stay like that.”

You squirm—but not far. Not really. Just enough to test him.

He growls.

And then—CRACK.

His hand lands sharp across your ass, a loud sting that echoes through the studio like an accusation.

You cry out.

“Still a brat,” he mutters. “Still fucking pushing me.”

His hands drag down—gripping your hips, pulling your ass back against him like he’s lining up a weapon.

“You think I won’t fuck you right here? Bent over the same bench I tattooed you on?” he says low, cruel. “You think I won’t use you just like this—all messy, full of spit, dripping down your thighs like a fucking reward?”

You whimper. “Then do it.”

A beat.

And then—he does.

He thrusts in all at once—deep, unforgiving, stretching you full in a single brutal push that knocks the air clean from your lungs. The bench creaks. Your nails scrape against the vinyl. You’re already soaked, still fluttering from his fingers.

Now you’re split open around him.

“Fuck—” he hisses. “Tight little thing—gripping me like you were made for this.”

You were. You want to scream it. But all that comes out is a cracked moan, spine arching as he pulls back—

Then slams in again.

Hard.

Rhythmic.

Cruel.

The bench jerks with every thrust. His hips slap into your ass, cock punching deep and devastating with every motion. The angle hits something brutal—low, mean, a spot that makes your vision spark.

“Louder,” he growls. “Wanna hear you.”

You whine—broken, gasping, drooling against the bench.

He leans over you now—chest to your back, breath in your ear, one hand fisted in your hair while the other snakes under your stomach to lift your hips just right.

His cock drags so deep, your thighs shake from the pressure, and the stretch is perfect—like he’s carving himself into you on purpose.

“This pussy’s been waiting for me,” he mutters, voice guttural. “So fucking wet—so ready to be used.”

You cry out as he pounds harder—faster—gripping your hips with both hands now, dragging you back onto his cock with every brutal snap of his waist.

“You hear that?” he pants.

Slap slap slap. Wet. Filthy. Perfect.

“That’s you,” he growls. “Fucking dripping down my cock—making a mess all over my bench like a desperate little toy.”

You moan—loud. The vinyl squeaks beneath you. Your toes curl, your back arches—and you know it’s close. That heat low in your stomach coiling tight.

“Wanna cum?” he grunts, snapping his hips even harder. “Gonna let me make you cum on my cock this time?”

You nod frantically. “Please—please, Seungmin—”

“Beg properly.”

“I need it—I need you—I’m gonna—fuck—please—!”

He slams in one final time—

And you break.

You cum hard—clenching around him, gasping his name like a prayer, back bowed and thighs trembling, your body nothing but nerve endings and his. It hits like lightning—violent, hot, devastating.

Seungmin moans through his teeth.

“God—fuck—you feel so good when you cum—” he grits, voice cracking with restraint. “So tight, so—shit—don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop squeezing me like that—”

He doesn’t slow. Not even a little. Seungmin just keeps going—thrusts deeper, harder, dragging your spent cunt right through the sensitivity like he wants to fuck you into a second orgasm.

You whine. Loud. High-pitched. Borderline sobbing.

“Too much—” you gasp, but your body says otherwise—clenching, fluttering, soaking him.

He groans, hips snapping into you again.

“I know,” he pants, voice wrecked. “I know it’s too much—but you’re taking it anyway, aren’t you?”

You nod. Shaking. Barely holding yourself upright over the bench as his cock slams into your soaked pussy again, again, again.

“You look so fucking wrecked,” he snarls. “Bent over this bench, fucked-out and dripping—mine.”

“Yours,” you echo—half-breath, half-moan. “Yours, Seungmin, fuck—!”

And that—

That does it.

He growls, deep in his chest, and thrusts one final time, burying himself to the fucking hilt—and you feel it.

His cock jerks once. Twice. Then—heat. Hot, thick, flooding you.

Seungmin’s cum spills inside you in brutal waves, pulse after pulse, spilling past your already-fucked entrance, dripping down your thighs with every twitch of his hips.

He groans—loud, broken—grinding in deeper as his release coats your insides.

You both stay like that for a beat.

Panting. Shaking. Silent except for the slow drip of your combined mess hitting the studio floor. His hands are still on your hips, fingers bruising, cock still buried deep inside you like he can’t bear to pull out just yet.

Finally—

“…fuck,” he mutters. “Look what you do to me.”

You whimper. “You started it.”

He smirks. Breathless. Still inside you.

“You came first,” he says, voice hoarse. “That makes it your fault.”

You roll your eyes. Weakly. Legs trembling.

But when he finally pulls out—slow, careful—you both groan at the mess. His cum leaks from you instantly, hot and obscene, slicking down your thighs in thick globs.

Seungmin watches. Just watches. Then hums.

“Pretty,” he says quietly. “All ruined. Just like I wanted.”

You’re bent over the ink bench, gasping. Barely conscious of your own limbs. There’s cum dripping down your thighs, breath fogging the vinyl, your body throbbing in time with your pulse.

And behind you—

Seungmin exhales. Low. Spent. Quiet.

Then: zip.

The sound of his jeans being pulled back up, the belt loosely fastened with one hand as the other brushes through his hair. You hear it—the shift. The snap back to reality. To composure. To Seungmin-afterglow, where all that bite turns to balm.

You expect him to vanish, to go grab wipes or complain about the mess—

Instead, you feel his hands. Gentle. Soft on your waist. Carefully guiding.

He straightens you. Not rough. Not impatient. Just… careful. Like you’re something fragile now.

You blink as he eases you to sit on the edge of the bench again, his hands steady on your hips until your legs stop shaking.

“Still with me?” he murmurs.

You nod. Slowly. “Barely.”

He huffs a breath of a laugh—tired, wrecked, softer than before.

Then he brushes sweaty strands of hair from your forehead and mutters, “Good girl.”

You melt. Right there. Ruined part two.

He disappears for a moment—only to return with a full box of wipes, a towel, and a silver water bottle you know is his personal one.

“Open,” he says gently, uncapping it and holding it to your lips.

You sip.

He waits. Watches to make sure you don’t choke. Then: another sip. A wipe to your neck. Another for your thighs.

He doesn’t comment on the mess—doesn’t smirk, doesn’t tease. Just… cleans you.

Tender. Focused. A little too quiet.

He wipes the insides of your thighs slowly, scooping up the slick and cum and sweat and ink-tainted heat with barely-there touches. When you flinch, he pauses. When you shiver, he murmurs something under his breath you don’t quite catch—but you feel it. Like a balm.

“You’re doing fine,” he says eventually. “I’m almost done.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

That shuts you up.

Once he’s cleaned every inch of you he marked, he helps dress you up again, pants and panties up but then he grabs his spare hoodie—crumpled on the back of his chair—and slips it over your head with no warning.

It’s oversized. Smells like cedar and ink and him.

He tugs the hood over your messy hair, then pauses to kiss the top of your head.

And that’s what finally ruins you.

Your eyes sting. But you blink fast. No way you’re crying in this hoodie.

“…Seungmin?”

He hums.

“You okay?”

His gaze lifts to yours. Tired. Sweet. Still a little dazed. Another soft hum in response. And then he's back in motion. Efficient again. Packing up the mess, tossing used wipes, wiping down the vinyl. He moves like he needs something to do with his hands or he’ll grab you again.

Once the bench is clean, he turns to you—really turns.

And in a voice way too soft for someone who just fucked the breath out of you against workplace furniture: “Wanna come back to mine?”

You laugh—hoarse, soft, still ruined. “Like this?”

He smirks. “I have more hoodies.”

You blink up at him.

“…And strawberries?”

He smiles.

"And strawberries."

You end up at his place that night. Still wearing his hoodie. Still barely walking.

He gives you a fresh towel and the softest pair of sweatpants he owns, sets you in the bathtub like you’re made of porcelain, and kneels beside it the whole time—washing your hair with slow fingers and kissing your shoulder between rinses.

You eat strawberries straight from the bowl while wrapped in his towel. He lets you finish the last bite before tugging you onto his lap and kissing you breathless all over again.

No sex that night. Not because he doesn’t want to—But because he already has you.

And maybe, he just wants to hold what he’s wrecked.

He lets you fall asleep on his chest. Hoodie, thigh over his lap, lips parted against his collarbone. He doesn’t sleep. Just watches. Fingers curled around your wrist like a habit he never wants to break.

And the next morning? He wakes you up with coffee. And a second round (Messier than before.).

And ever since that day? You just… kept coming back. Not for tattoos, though that’s still a bonus. No—now you show up for him. Your boyfriend. Your soft-spoken menace. Your chaos control. Your personal ink-stained sadist.

You still strut into NO SAINT INK like you own it—drink tray in hand, smug little smirk on your face, eyes locked on the back room like a predator in love.

You still flirt just to watch him clench his jaw. Still wear lace under oversized hoodies and whisper “miss me?” every time you lean against his worktable.

He still rolls his eyes and mutters “unbearable” without looking up.

But when the clock hits closing time?

And everyone is gone. The lights dim. The blinds are drawn. The door locks with a click.

Seungmin doesn’t pretend.

He pulls you into the back with one hand around your neck and the other already working at your zipper. He lays you across the vinyl like it’s a fucking altar. And he fucks you like he’s trying to tattoo his name inside your soul.

You moan like you were made for it.

And when it’s over—when you’re sore and sticky and boneless all over again—

He picks you up. Wipes you down. And kisses your forehead like you hung the moon. A ritual really. Because from annoying menace client, you are now his favourite annoying menace girlfriend.

Who still pisses him off about random designs and bullies him into doing them. And he still ends up doing them for you, except they are ten times better and equipped with all the loving bullying just for you.

Just for his favourite menace girlfriend.

[m0ri-apeuda]

BLOOM UNDER NEEDLES

Tattoo Artist!Hwang Hyunjin x Reader | he’s touched you five times. tonight, he ruins you

🔞synopsis: Tattoo Artist AU. You’ve been friends for years. He’s inked every part of your body except the one he’s dying to ruin. But the second you show up again, hips bare and eyes burning, asking for another piece? He doesn’t just mark you. He fucks it into you. This is possession. This is art. This is obsession.

💌a/n: This one’s for @bemyaehiweloveskz, who sang into my inbox the sweet sounds of "tattoo artist!Hyunjin x reader". You asked. I delivered. We’re doing this first come, first serve, so next Filthy Friday, it is Seungmin's time to shine. So buckle the fuck up. p.s. reblogging = mouth-to-mouth resuscitation p.p.s. yes, you can request the other members, please do. who do you wanna read after Seungmin? p.p.p.s. If this fic made you moan, clench, or whisper “jesus fuck,” you now owe me your spine, one (1) unhinged tag, and a slightly sinful reblog. That's the deal. I don’t make the rules. (I do.)

⚠️ warnings: 18+ | MINORS DNI | EXTREMELY NSFW | Friends-to-lovers tension finally snaps and it’s carnal, needy, and fucking overdue | Oral (f. receiving) | Latex gloves | Spit | Tattoo chair sex | Filthy dirty talk — praise + hunger: “sweetheart,” “good girl,” “let me taste you again.” | Fingering | Thigh gripping | Ass worship | Tattooing as marking kink | Reader on all fours, bent over the chair | Clit attention that makes your brain fog | Aftercare so tender it hurts

📌 Please read responsibly. Hydrate. Stretch.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Love Talk — WayV « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:53 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Seoul's early spring was always deceptive—sunlight soft on the surface but the air still kissed your skin cold when you walked too fast. Your coat’s too light, your hands half-numb, but the minute you step into NO SAINT INK, everything warms.

The scent hits you first: incense and antiseptic. Burnt vanilla over sharp alcohol wipes. Clean, familiar. The quiet hum of lo-fi beats weaves through the matte-black interior—half gallery, half hellmouth. Every wall is scattered with framed flash art—some crisp linework, others feral, chaotic sketches with phrases like “Bite Me” and “Pretty Hurts” etched beneath dripping roses.

The warmth isn’t just from the heater. It’s him.

Hwang Hyunjin is hunched over a drafting table toward the back of the studio, black hoodie sleeves rolled to his elbows, ringed fingers smudged with graphite. His hair is tied up—loose bun, strands falling across his cheekbones, lip bitten as he sketches something you can’t see. You pause in the entrance, watching him work.

God, he’s always like this. Still. Focused. A little too beautiful for a tattoo shop that’s home to chaos incarnate (read: Han Jisung) and Felix’s glitter-drenched custom piercings. Hyunjin feels like a walking contradiction—poetic and sharp, serene and volatile. An ink-stained symphony of clean lines and deliberate hunger.

He looks up.

His eyes meet yours instantly, like he felt you enter the room. Not surprised. Just… aware. Like you live inside a part of his brain he never locks.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, soft as velvet over bone. The corner of his mouth quirks—barely a smile, more of an acknowledgment. Like he’s happy to see you but won’t say it unless you ask.

“Hi,” you breathe, stepping inside fully, the door shutting with a soft chime behind you. “Still open?”

“For you?” His pen halts. “Always.”

You snort, dropping your bag onto the client couch. “That’s the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard.”

He leans back in his chair, arms stretching over his head, hoodie rising to reveal the silver flash of his hip chain. “I save my best lines for Han’s clients. He likes to pretend he’s the shop flirt.”

“And you?”

“I prefer…” He pauses. Tilts his head. “Slow burns.”

There it is—that unspoken thing. You’ve known Hyunjin for years now, back when NO SAINT INK was just a cramped two-room hole above a bakery and he was still an apprentice shading roses on fake skin.

You were his first real client. Small piece. Inside of your arm. Something small.

Since then—five tattoos. All from him. All delicate. Personal. Quiet marks he made on your body with gentle hands and steady breath. And he never once crossed a line. But he always hovered near it.

The way his thumb would linger too long when wiping down ink. The way he’d mutter, “Hold still, pretty,” and your pulse would stutter like a skipped beat. The way he’d sketch flowers that looked suspiciously like the one he placed under your collarbone, and you’d find them in his book months later, unlabeled—but unmistakable.

Still, you stayed friends.

Coffee runs. Late-night ramen. Art gallery detours. Matching silver rings you bought at a flea market once and never really talked about.

And now, standing here again, watching him toss his sketch pad aside like it’s weightless, you feel it—that shift. The quiet knowing. Like the seed of something unsaid is finally cracking open.

“You working on a new piece?” you ask, nodding toward the table.

He shrugs. “Just sketching.”

“For a client?”

His gaze flicks to you. Unblinking. “Not yet.”

There’s something thick in the air now. Not awkward—just dense. Weighted. You clear your throat.

“I, uh…” You hesitate, fingers brushing your wrist. “I wanted to ask you for something.”

His brows raise slightly. “What kind of something?”

You pause.

Then you pull a folded sketch from your pocket. Smooth it out on the counter. His eyes drop to the paper.

It’s a flower. Hand-drawn. A Lily of the Valley—delicate, nodding petals arching off a thin stem. At the base of it, a faint phrase in cursive: “I bloom where I ache.”

He stares for a long moment.

When he speaks, it’s almost reverent. “You drew this?”

You nod.

His thumb traces the corner of the page. “Where do you want it?”

You swallow. “Right here.” You place your fingers at the sharp curve of your hipbone, just beneath your waistband.

Silence.

You can feel the air shift.

Hyunjin doesn’t move for a second. His jaw tightens. When he finally lifts his gaze, it’s slower. He looks at you like he’s taking you in all over again.

“You want me to tattoo you there?”

“Yes.”

A long breath. “Why me?”

You blink. “What do you mean?”

He steps around the counter. Closer. Close enough to smell the cedar on his hoodie, the faint scent of ink that never quite leaves his skin. “You could’ve asked anyone here. Jisung’s the wild one. Felix would pierce your entire soul if you let him.”

You shrug. “I don’t want chaos.”

He raises a brow. “And what do you want?”

You meet his eyes. Slowly. Gentle. “You.”

The pause between you is deafening. Then—his voice, low and frayed. “You can’t say shit like that when I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“You’ve touched me five times.”

“Not like that.”

Not yet, you think. And suddenly, the air feels even heavier.

But then he steps back. Just a little. Just enough to breathe. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

You nod once, pulse thudding.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “After hours. Just us.”

You try to play it cool. “For professionalism?”

His mouth twitches. “No. For focus.”

You arrive before closing.

The sun is already dipping past the horizon, casting long shadows across the alley where NO SAINT INK lives—half-sacred, half-possessed. The neon signs haven’t lit up yet, but the glow inside is warm. Low amber light spills from the studio windows, wrapping the interior in something softer than usual.

You knock once before nudging the door open, a little bell jingling above your head. Your hands are full—an iced Americano in one, a paper bag of pastries in the other.

“I brought bribes,” you call, stepping into the familiar scent of incense, ink, and disinfectant.

From somewhere in the back, you hear him.

“Depends,” Hyunjin says, voice echoing through the curtained hallway. “Are they sweet enough to justify me rearranging my entire night for your hipbone?”

You roll your eyes, smirking as you head toward the front counter. “Don’t act like you weren’t already gonna.”

He appears a moment later, pulling back the curtain with a casual flick—black long-sleeve pushed to his forearms, hair loose today, curling slightly at the ends. His silver earrings catch the light as he moves.

You offer him the coffee.

He accepts it without question, sipping as he glances at the bag. “What is it?”

“Strawberry scones.”

He pauses. Blinks once.

Then, soft and flat: “You’re trying to seduce me.”

You shrug, innocent. “You said you preferred slow burns. I’m just feeding the flame.”

He exhales sharply through his nose. Amused. Maybe impressed. Maybe ruined.

“Come on,” he murmurs, nodding toward the back. “Booth’s ready.”

You follow him through the curtain, until you reach Hyunjin’s space. It’s quieter here.

Dimly lit by a single lamp angled down over the chair. Black walls. Floating shelves with sketchbooks stacked high and carefully labeled bottles of ink arranged like altar offerings. A large framed print of a blooming rose leans against the far wall—your eye catches on the familiar linework.

One of his.

He gestures to the seat. “Make yourself comfortable.”

You do, settling your things on the side table as he rolls on a fresh pair of gloves. The snap of the latex still makes something flicker in your chest.

“Still want the Lily of the Valley?” he asks, voice calm but slightly huskier now. He hasn’t met your eyes yet. Too focused on laying out his stencil materials. Too aware of what’s coming.

You nod. “Still want you to do it.”

That makes his head lift.

His eyes find yours. And this time, they don’t look away.

Slowly, you reach for the hem of your sweatshirt. Tug it off in one smooth motion, leaving you in a cropped tank top and soft cotton shorts. No tights. No barrier. You watch his gaze dip—briefly—to the exposed skin of your upper thighs.

Then you hook your thumbs into your waistband.

“Here okay?” you murmur, sliding the fabric just low enough to reveal the curve of your hipbone—the exact place you want him to mark. The edge of your panties still covers what it needs to. Barely.

His inhale is so sharp you hear it.

“Yeah,” he says after a beat. His voice is quiet. Rough around the edges. “That’s… That’s perfect.”

You try to keep your tone light. “You’ve seen skin before, Hyun.”

“Not like this.”

Your breath catches.

He steps closer, holding the stencil between gloved fingers. His touch is steady when he kneels beside the chair, head tilting slightly to examine the space. But when his hand settles on your waist to hold you still, you feel it.

The difference.

It’s not professional anymore. Not strictly. Not the way it used to be.

His palm is wide. Firm. Anchoring you. But his thumb brushes the hollow just above your hip, a spot he doesn’t need to touch at all. His breath ghosts over your stomach as he positions the stencil, close enough that your skin prickles.

“Breathe for me,” he murmurs. The same words as always.

Only this time—you feel them in your thighs.

You inhale slowly. Exhale.

He presses the stencil gently to your skin. Smooth. Measured. His gaze flicks up once, meeting yours from below, and you swear—just for a second—he looks like he wants to bite.

“There,” he says softly, pulling back to admire his placement. “Check it in the mirror before I commit?”

You nod, rising carefully to your feet. His hand lingers a second too long before letting go.

You step over to the full-length mirror mounted in the corner. Turn slightly. Examine the stencil on your skin—delicate lines, tiny petals, soft cursive nestled against bone. It's beautiful. Quiet and aching and so personal it almost hurts.

He watches you from the chair, arms crossed now, gloves still on, forearms flexed just slightly as he leans back.

“Well?” he asks.

You meet his gaze in the mirror. “It’s perfect.”

“Then lie back for me, angel.”

You lie back on the chair, the black leather cold beneath your skin, even through the thin cotton of your tank. The lamp above casts everything in a halo glow—focused, intimate, like a spotlight trained just on you.

Hyunjin is quiet as he moves around the station. He preps with the same practiced rhythm you’ve seen five times before—ink cap, paper towels, sterile wipes, machine hum warming in the corner. But there’s something different in the air now.

A little too still. A little too loaded.

And then he turns.

Rolls his stool over beside you, knees brushing the base of the chair. He’s sitting close. Closer than he usually does when tattooing you. The heat of him radiates under the low light, hands gloved and resting on his thighs as he looks at you.

At your skin. At the spot where he’s about to mark you.

“You good?” he asks, voice low and a little hoarse.

You nod. “Yeah. Just… aware that I’m in my underwear in your lap basically.”

He snorts softly. “First of all, dramatic. You’re not in my lap—yet.”

Your breath catches. He doesn’t take it back.

You glance down. “I just meant, y’know. This placement. It's a little…”

“Intimate,” he finishes.

You nod once. Slowly.

He leans forward. Just a little. “Does it bother you?”

You blink. “No. Does it bother you?”

He tilts his head, mouth twitching like he wants to smile but won’t let himself. “You think I’m bothered?”

“I think you’re trying very hard to act like I’m just another client.”

That earns a quiet laugh. Low and sharp.

“You haven’t been ‘just another client’ since the first time you asked me to tattoo your collarbone with that stupid flower that made you cry.”

You shove his arm playfully. “It was a sentimental flower, not stupid.”

“It was both. And you cried like I stabbed you in the soul.”

“It hurt!”

“It was a two-inch peony.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, biting back a smile.

He smiles now. Full, real, warm. It fades just slightly as his gaze drags down again, returning to your exposed hipbone.

You feel your stomach tighten when he speaks again—softer now.

“Touching you like this… isn’t nothing.”

You swallow. “So don’t pretend it is.”

He nods. Silent agreement. Then slips back into motion.

He sanitizes your skin first. Cold alcohol on gauze. His fingers brush over your hip as he cleans the area, and even through the gloves, it feels like fire.

“You’re already warm,” he murmurs.

“You’re hovering,” you shoot back.

His laugh is quieter this time. “I have to. This is a sensitive area.”

“Mmm, right. Totally necessary to lean in so close your necklace is touching my stomach.”

He does not, in fact, move away.

Instead, his thumb brushes just below your waistband, fingers spreading gently across your hip as he holds your skin steady. “Stop wiggling.”

“I’m not wiggling.”

“You are.”

“You’re—” Your voice hitches slightly when his palm presses down with more intention. “You’re being a menace.”

“Always.”

He picks up the tattoo machine with his other hand. It buzzes softly to life, a familiar whir that still makes your nerves spike.

He notices. Of course he does.

“You okay?”

You nod.

“You always get twitchy right before the first line,” he says softly, like he’s reciting an old memory.

“You always hold my hand when I do.”

He pauses. Just a beat.

Then—he gently reaches up, slides his fingers between yours, and squeezes once.

You don’t let go.

And then—

“Here we go,” he says quietly.

The needle touches your skin.

Sharp. Hot. Deep. You flinch slightly, but his hand on your hip tightens instantly—not rough, but anchoring.

“There you go,” he murmurs. “Breathe. Just like that.”

The buzz continues, steady and rhythmic as he pulls the linework with impossible control. You force yourself to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the pain.

“You’re good,” he says again, thumb brushing a slow arc into your skin. “Taking it so well.”

You blink hard. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Say what?”

“‘Taking it so well.’ That’s porn voice, Hyun.”

He grins—sharp and unrepentant. “So?”

You glare at the ceiling. “You’re unbearable.”

He leans in slightly, still drawing. “You’re wet.”

Your whole body freezes.

“I—excuse me—”

“Your skin,” he says smoothly, as if he wasn’t just trying to end your life. “It’s damp. Warm. From the alcohol. What did you think I meant?”

“You know what I thought you meant.”

He hums, like he’s pleased with himself. “Interesting.”

You let out a long, slow exhale.

“Still doing okay?” he asks, voice back to low and sincere.

You nod, chest rising and falling. “Yeah. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Hard to stay still when you’re—” You cut yourself off.

His voice drops. “When I’m what?”

Your mouth feels dry. You look down at him. He’s crouched over you, hair falling forward again, neck bent in full concentration. One gloved hand spreads over your hip, holding you down, while the other guides the needle with ridiculous precision. He looks like he’s worshipping your skin. Like this act—this pain—is a form of reverence.

“You’re touching me like I’m yours,” you say before you can stop yourself.

The sound of the machine falters—just a fraction. He doesn’t speak for a second. Then, finally—his voice low and wrecked: “That’s because you are.”

Those words echo.

Not just in your ears—but in your bones. Your breath stutters. Your lips part. You watch him blink, jaw flexing like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Like he’s wondering if he can take it back.

You know he won’t. Because he meant it. Because it’s been there—under every lingering look, every playful comment, every time he touched you for just a little too long after finishing a piece.

This has never just been ink.

Not for him.

And not for you.

“Hyun…” you whisper, unsure whether it’s a warning or a surrender.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he sets the machine down—gently, slowly, deliberately—onto the tray beside him. The buzz fades into nothing.

His gloved hand is still on your hip.

Still holding you steady. Still not moving.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says softly, but his eyes never leave yours. “Not while I’m tattooing you. Not while you’re lying here half-naked and trusting me.”

“But you meant it,” you say.

His jaw tightens. “Yeah.”

The silence between you goes thick again. Almost unbearable.

And then—still seated beside you, still bent low enough that his breath brushes your stomach—he murmurs, “Do you want me to stop?”

You stare down at him. And shake your head. “No,” you breathe. “I want you to finish.”

It’s not just about the tattoo. It never was. Something changes in his face. His pupils dilate. His mouth parts slightly, like he’s tasting the weight of what you just said.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

But when he picks the machine back up, his hands aren’t steady anymore.

The lines are still perfect—Hyunjin doesn’t do less than perfect—but his breath is uneven. His gloved fingers flex harder on your skin, not quite possessive, but close. His knuckles brush the edge of your underwear again and again, and not a single one of those brushes feels like an accident anymore.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, like he’s talking to himself.

You’re not sure if he means you or him.

“I’m fine,” you manage.

He hums. Low. “You always say that. Even when I’m breaking you open.”

Your thighs press together involuntarily. You’re certain he notices.

“I’m almost done,” he says. “Just a few more petals.”

You nod, chest rising with shaky breaths. “Okay.”

Hyunjin works in silence for the next few minutes. Only the buzz of the machine fills the air. His jaw is tight, lips parted, eyes flicking from the lines to your face and back.

Your breath stutters every time his fingers press a little deeper into your skin to hold you steady.

He notices. He always notices.

"You need to stay still, baby," he murmurs after a minute, like it costs him to say it gently.

"I'm trying," you whisper.

"I know," he says. "You're doing so good for me."

The pet name lands hard. You bite your lip, trying not to squirm. He grins. Quietly. Like he’s winning.

Another petal. Another clean line.

Your skin stings, but his voice is soothing. Warm. Reverent.

“Almost there,” he breathes, wiping the fresh ink with gentle circles of gauze. “I promise.”

You nod, nails digging into your own palms.

And then—

He stops.

The buzzing dies.

You feel the soft click of the machine being placed down. The final swipe of his gloved thumb wiping excess ink. The moment his hand lingers too long, brushing up toward your waist.

“…Finished,” he says quietly.

You look at him.

His expression is wrecked. Dark eyes, blown pupils, the barest sheen of sweat at his temples. He swallows hard, blinking slowly like he’s holding back a flood.

He pulls the gloves off.

Snaps. Tosses them to the tray.

Then looks at you like he’s still starving.

“Let me clean you up,” he murmurs.

You sit up a little, and his hand immediately comes to your back to support you—too gentle, too familiar. The intimacy of it makes your stomach flip.

You watch him work.

He squeezes out clear cleanser onto a pad, drags it carefully across the ink. Wipes you down like you’re porcelain. Like you’re sacred.

You shiver.

“There,” he says, fingers resting lightly at your waist. “We should wrap it but…”

You blink at him. “But?”

His eyes flick to your mouth. Then to your thighs. Then back to your eyes. “…But I don’t think I can keep my hands off you long enough to give you proper aftercare,” he admits, voice breaking open.

But then Hyunjin blinks, jaw clenched, and suddenly he’s standing. Suddenly he’s all discipline again. You watch in disbelief as he turns, grabs a box of plastic wrap and surgical tape like he didn’t just tell you he wants to ruin you.

You blink up at him, chest heaving, as he cuts a clean piece and starts prepping like this is a normal day.

Is he seriously—

“Lie back,” he murmurs.

You hesitate.

“C’mon,” he says gently. “Gotta protect the art.”

You lie back, narrowing your eyes.

He crouches again, presses gauze delicately to your tattoo, then begins wrapping with the kind of precise tension you'd expect from a fucking surgeon. His fingers glide over your waist as he smooths the film into place—practiced, familiar, infuriatingly neutral.

"You're being professional again," you mutter.

His mouth twitches. “Would you rather I forget how to do my job?”

“I’d rather you remember what you said five minutes ago.”

“I remember everything I say to you.”

He tapes down the final corner of the wrap, hands steady even though you can see the vein twitching in his neck. You can see the way his mouth keeps parting like he’s holding back a groan. His eyes won’t meet yours for more than a second.

And then, like a fucking menace, he clears his throat and reaches for the aftercare sheet.

The goddamn printed paper.

“I know how to—”

“I’m required to go through it,” he interrupts, not looking at you. “So. No heavy workouts. No soaking in water. No scratching even if it itches. Moisturize gently once the wrap’s off—”

You sit up abruptly.

His words die in his throat.

You reach for the collar of his shirt, grab it, and pull him in. You kiss him like you’re done waiting. Like his little show of professionalism just lit a fire under your skin. Like you’re done pretending you’re not his.

His body reacts before his mind can catch up—he lurches forward into you, hands bracing behind your back, and kisses you back like he’s making up for every second he spent pretending he wasn’t about to come undone.

Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct.

He groans into your mouth, deep and unfiltered, like the leash he had on himself just snapped in two.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” you whisper against his lips.

He pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead to yours, breath heavy.

“You think I was trying to stop myself?” he says, voice rough. “No. I was trying to deserve you.”

Your breath catches.

He kisses you again—deeper this time, desperate.

Then he’s standing. Hands sliding under your thighs, lifting you like it’s nothing. You wrap around him, gasping into his mouth as he sets you down on the tattoo chair again—but backwards this time, so your back is to his chest, your legs spread.

“So,” he says low in your ear, voice gone completely to sin now, “how’s your pain tolerance, baby?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to fuck you without touching your new tattoo,” he growls. “And I’m not sure if that’s going to make you scream louder… or quieter.”

Your breathing’s uneven. Your skin still stings faintly from the tattoo. And Hyunjin—Hyunjin is standing behind you, hands gripping your hips like he’s trying not to shake.

"Stay still," he murmurs. “You’ll make me lose it.”

“You already have.”

He huffs a breath that sounds like a laugh if it weren’t laced with so much need. Then his hands trail lower—thumbs hooking into your shorts.

He pulls slowly. Too slowly. The fabric drags over your thighs, bunches at your knees. You shift, arching slightly without meaning to, and he groans low in his throat.

"Fuck," he breathes. "Look at this."

His palm smooths over the curve of your ass, fingers spreading wide like he’s cataloguing every inch.

"You’re unreal," he mutters. "Always knew it. But like this?"

The shorts hit the floor.

And you hear it—the hitch in his breath when he sees your panties.

Thin. Soft. Lace-trimmed. They’re slightly pulled up from your earlier writhing on the chair, and now they’re framed perfectly. Your ass is practically spilling out of them.

Hyunjin makes a sound that is not human.

“Oh, baby…” he murmurs, hand splaying fully across one cheek. He squeezes—firm, greedy. “You wore these for me?”

“I didn’t know I’d be bent over in front of you,” you say, voice breathy.

“Bullshit.”

He leans in, lips brushing your lower back, just above the wrap.

“You always knew where this was going,” he whispers. “You’ve been showing me this ass every time you walked into my shop with your little skirts, your cocky smirks—”

A kiss over the curve of your ass.

“I tattoo you with a straight face, and you sit there like I’m not fucking hard the entire time—”

His hand slides lower, palm pressing against your inner thigh. His fingers trail along the hem of your panties, teasing.

“I should rip these.”

“You won’t,” you gasp.

“Oh?”

“You like how they look too much.”

He chuckles—low, dark, reverent. “You’re right.”

And then he does something you don’t expect.

He kneels behind you.

Both hands on your thighs, spreading you gently. His thumbs drag upward, slow, until they reach the curve of your ass again. He groans softly under his breath—visibly, audibly, aching.

Then—

A kiss. Right on your left cheek. Then another. And another. Trailing closer to the centre. “You know,” he murmurs between kisses, “this view might actually kill me.”

His thumbs hook into the waistband of your panties, and pulls them down.

Hyunjin lets out a shaky, reverent breath. His hands grip your thighs harder. His lips are parted, his eyes wild.

“…Holy fuck. You’re dripping. Just for me.”

His voice is guttural—low enough to make your spine arch without thinking. You can feel his breath right there—hot, heavy, reverent.

Then—

Spit.

The sound is sharp. Obscene. You gasp as it hits you—warm and wet, mixing with your slick, sliding between your folds.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin breathes, watching it trail down. “You make me so fucking messy already.”

And then he dives in. No hesitation. No soft teasing. He licks you like it’s instinct, like it’s oxygen, like this is the first and last meal of his entire life. His tongue parts you, slow and deep. He groans into your pussy like he’s overwhelmed by the taste.

“Jesus,” he whispers between licks. “You taste like a fucking dream.”

His hands grip your ass, spreading you wider. His tongue flicks over your clit—once, twice, and you jolt, gasping into the leather chair.

“Keep still,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “Let me enjoy you.”

Then he sucks. Hard.

Your whole body shudders. Your knees nearly give. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. He alternates between long, deep licks and desperate flicks, burying his face in you like he wants to live there. Like he’s tattooing his tongue into your memory.

One of his hands slips down, fingers trailing to your soaked entrance. He groans when he feels how ready you are.

“Holy shit,” he pants. “You’re gonna let me fuck this perfect pussy, aren’t you?”

“Yes—god, yes,” you whimper, pressing back against him, dizzy from pleasure.

His fingers press in—two at once, slow but deep. Your walls clench around him, and he curses under his breath.

“Already so fucking tight,” he groans. “Can’t wait to stretch you out on my cock, baby. But first—”

He curls his fingers. Licks again. And you scream. It’s filthy. It’s divine. It’s Hyunjin with a mouth full of you, humming like he��s high off the taste, dragging you toward the edge faster than you can take.

“Don’t hold back,” he says against your cunt. “I want you to cum all over my face.”

You don’t even answer. You can’t. You’re too far gone. Your thighs start to tremble, hips twitching uncontrollably, and he knows.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tongue relentless. “That’s it, pretty girl. Let go for me. Cum for me.”

And with one more curl of his fingers and one more harsh suck on your clit—

You do.

You break. Hard. Shaking, moaning, collapsing forward against the chair as your orgasm rips through you. You gasp his name, legs trembling, slick dripping down his chin.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps going. Licking you through it. Kissing you through the aftershocks. Fingers still inside you, soothing, teasing, owning every wave of it. When you finally lift your head, panting, dazed, and weak in the knees—he pulls back just enough to look up at you. His lips are slick. His eyes are dark. His chest is heaving.

“You’re even prettier when you fall apart,” he whispers.

Then he licks your juices off his bottom lip—

And stands.

You see the outline of his cock in his jeans—thick, hard, straining.

He steps forward, rubbing against your ass, groaning into your shoulder. “Now,” he says, voice wrecked. “I’m going to fuck you so deep, the next time you come in for ink, you’ll still be dripping from this.”

His hands fumble with the button of his jeans, curses falling from his lips like prayers.

“Fuck, fuck—why are these so tight today—”

You glance back, dazed and flushed, still bent over the chair, legs weak from his mouth.

He finally shoves them down, briefs included—and there he is.

Long. Thick. Red at the tip. Veins tracing the sides. So hard it curves slightly, twitching with every heartbeat. Your mouth parts involuntarily. He catches your gaze.

“You staring?” he says, breathless.

“Obviously.”

He smirks—then hisses when his own hand wraps around the base, pumping once to relieve the pressure.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he mutters, stepping closer, cock dragging over your ass, your soaked thighs, your still-sensitive folds. “Bent over my chair… ink still fresh… wrapped like a fucking gift—”

You whimper as he grinds against you, the head of his cock smearing pre-cum along your skin.

“—and all mine.”

He strokes himself once more, then lines up—sliding the tip through your slick folds, teasing your entrance.

You jolt.

“Still sensitive?” he asks softly.

You nod.

He leans down, voice curling around your ear.

“Good.”

And then—

He pushes in. Slow. Deep.

Your breath catches hard. He’s thick—stretching you inch by inch, until the pressure is so full, so overwhelming, it blurs the edges of your vision.

“Fuck,” he groans, gripping your hips, fingers sinking into your waist. “You’re so tight I could die.”

You moan, forehead pressing into the leather. “Move, Hyunjin—please—”

He pulls out halfway—

Then slams back in.

Your cry echoes through the studio.

“Sound so pretty,” he pants, setting a rhythm—deep, deliberate thrusts that hit every nerve-ending you didn’t know you had.

Every time his hips meet your ass, your body jolts.

“You were made for this,” he mutters. “Made for me.”

One hand slips around your waist, sliding between your legs again, fingers finding your clit with pinpoint accuracy.

“Hyunjin—!”

“That’s right, baby,” he growls. “Take it. Take all of me.”

He pounds into you harder—louder now, the slap of skin on skin obscene in the quiet room. His name spills from your lips over and over, useless and raw and desperate.

The tattoo stings with every motion—but you don’t care. You’re fucked open and filled and god, he’s not stopping. You look back over your shoulder, dizzy, ruined.

And Hyunjin’s eyes are locked on your face—wild. Starved. Obsessed.

“I’m not done,” he says, voice barely human. “Not till you cum on my cock. Not till I fuck my name so deep into you it echoes.”

His fingers rub faster. His thrusts get rougher. And then—

Everything snaps.

You cum again—louder, harder, legs shaking, walls pulsing around him like a vice.

“Holy fuck,” he shouts, cock twitching—

And then he’s spilling into you, deep and hot, hips stuttering, breath caught in his throat.

For a moment, the only sound is your breathing. The ruin. The afterglow. His cock still buried inside you. His arms wrapping around your torso as he leans in and presses a kiss to your back.

“Worth every second I waited,” he whispers.

You laugh—wrecked and glowing. “Told you you’d break the chair.”

“Worth it,” he grins.

Then: “Round two?”

You snort. “Gimme ten minutes and a juice box.”

He kisses your shoulder. “Done.” He kisses again, again, and again. “You okay?” he whispers.

You nod slowly. “Better than.”

He chuckles under his breath, one arm tightening around your waist. “I could stay inside you all day,” he murmurs. “But we’d destroy the whole damn shop.”

You feel him pull out—slowly, carefully, letting you feel every inch retreat until your body clenches one last time in protest.

A gasp escapes your lips.

Hyunjin groans softly behind you. “Don’t do that,” he warns. “I’m already thinking about round two.”

You give him a breathless laugh and he grins. Now pulling up your panties, still bunched halfway down one thigh. He slides them up slowly, smoothing the lace back into place, pressing a kiss to your right cheek as he finishes.

Next come the shorts. He helps you step into them, then pulls them up gently, carefully over your still-tender skin. He pauses at your waistband. Fingers resting there. Holding.

“Let me see it,” he whispers.

You glance back, confused.

“The tattoo.” he clarifies, voice soft.

You shift your hip toward him, tugging the waistband down just enough.

He crouches again.

One hand cradles your thigh. The other touches just above the wrap.

His eyes go soft.

“I can’t believe I finally got to mark you,” he says, almost to himself. “Right here. Where no one else gets to touch.”

You watch him trace the wrap with two fingers, reverent. Then—

He kisses the corner of it. Barely-there. Sacred. You feel your heart stutter. He looks up at you—flushed, hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes absolutely feral with devotion.

“Come home with me,” he says.

Your breath catches. “Hyunjin—”

“I’m not done with you,” he murmurs. “I need to see that tattoo in the morning light. Need to kiss every part I didn’t get to tonight. Need you in my bed. On my sheets. Wearing nothing but your bruises and my name.”

You stare at him. Then lean down. And kiss him. Soft. Slow. Final.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

You wake up to the feeling of his fingers on your hip.

Not just touching—tracing. Careful. Curious. Worshipful.

The morning light spills through the blinds in lazy stripes, painting the sheets in pale gold and soft gray. You’re lying on your side, half under the duvet, one leg bare and bent—perfectly exposing your hip. The wrap is still on.

Hyunjin is shirtless, hair an absolute mess, lips kiss-swollen and pink. His chain dangles forward as he leans down to look closer, one hand brushing back your shirt to keep it out of the way.

You blink sleepily. “You’re staring.”

He doesn’t even pretend to deny it.

“Can’t help it,” he murmurs. “I know I just did this, but I still can’t believe it’s mine.”

You snort. “You mean mine.”

His gaze flicks up.

“No,” he says softly. “I meant what I said.”

He leans in. Kisses just beside the wrap. “You let me mark you,” he whispers. “Right where I’ve always dreamed.”

You feel your stomach flip, heat blooming down your spine. “You’re being sappy,” you mumble, hiding your face in the pillow.

He grins. “You love it.”

His fingers trail lower. Along your thigh. To the dip just before it curves into your ass.

You squirm. “Hyunjin—”

“Let me see how sore you are,” he says, voice suddenly lower, throatier.

He lifts the covers. Exposes both legs. His eyes darken at the sight—faint bruises from where he held you. Scratches on his arms from when you clung to him.

And then—he kisses your thigh. Slow. Open-mouthed. Lingering. “I want to put another one here,” he says.

You blink. “Another what?”

“A tattoo,” he says. “Something small. Hidden. Right where only I get to see it.”

He slides lower, kissing your inner thigh now. His hair brushes your skin. His breath is hot.

You shiver. “Hyunjin…”

His mouth pauses a breath away from your cunt. Then: “Or maybe I’ll just taste you again first. Remind you who you belong to before we start sketching.”

You moan—already soaked, already clenching.

But he just smirks.

“You want it, don’t you?” he murmurs. “Want to be mine in ink and sweat and everything else.”

You nod, voice wrecked. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

He lowers his head again. “And you will be,” he whispers. “One mark at a time.”

[m0ri-apeuda]

Promised you forever

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: fluff, smut, pinch of angst

wc: 24.7k

warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampies, oral (m and f), fingering, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy

synopsis: after 6 years of being away from the village you grew up in, you're finally visiting your grandparents. you're excited to spend time with them, but your heart beats faster at the thought of seeing your first love.

a/n: this fic is for my twin from another continent @jehhskz 🩷 thank you for always supporting my works, being on this journey with me and yapping about our sweet hyune and whatever else!! i hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it, happy birthday🥹🩷🫶🏻

~ divider by: @sweetmelodygraphics

their song🩷

A long exhale left your parted lips, right as you pressed your forehead against the cold window of the car, shutting your eyes tightly.

'Get it together, y/n!', you thought to yourself.

But how could you get it together when you were currently driving towards the place you left almost 6 years ago, the place you haven't even stepped foot in while you finished college and tried to build the career you always wanted in the city?

How could you get it together when you couldn't stop replaying the song that once brought you happy memories that were now just a part of your past, filling you up with melancholy?

How could you get it together when you know he still lives there and it's inevitable that you will run into him? Your heart skipped a beat the moment you thought of that.

How would he react? Would he ignore you as if he never knew you? Would he run into your arms, like you knew you'd feel the urge to do as soon as your eyes land on his? Would he just greet you politely, like you haven't already exchanged your breaths, your innocence, whispers of love, tangled your tongues and your hearts?

Did he move on?

You wouldn't blame him if he did, after all, you were the one who left him when you had promised to always stay by his side.

You called your grandparents earlier to let them know you'll be visiting, finally after so many years, you had to be there to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary, you wouldn't miss it for anything in the world. They practically raised you while your parents worked out of the village and you always admired the tender love they had for each other, spending so many years together and going through so much that just made their bond stronger.

You were tempted to ask your grandmother about Hyunjin, what he was doing now or if he had a significant other. But, you had bitten your tongue, too scared to find out the answer to your question.

You only hoped he didn't hate you.

Hyunjin. The boy that smiled shyly at you when you were just five years old, when his mother had brought him to your house for a play date while the parents have some 'grown up time'. You returned the shy smile, playing with the fabric of your nice dress, the one your mom made you wear, saying something about a 'good impression'. The awkwardness between you disappeared pretty quickly, as soon as you showed him your favorite toys, the two of you started playing together in your yard, between all the dirt and the flowers. Your mother had scolded you later for ruining your dress but your grandmother calmed her down, telling her how the dress paled in comparison to having a good time with a new friend.

Hyunjin and you had at least two play dates a week which turned into three, then four, soon you became inseparable; especially when you started going to school together. Both of you were pretty frightened about that change, standing in front of the school gate so Hyunjin reached out to hold your hand, squeezing it reassuringly as your little cheeks became rosy.

He was your best friend, your first and last crush.

Years of being by his side, watching him grow and growing with him, you couldn't imagine your life without him. Hyunjin knew almost everything about you as you did with him and when both of you started high school, something changed.

He was growing up, he was different than before and you started looking at him differently. Before, you were used to the feeling you got when he touched your hand but now it seemed more electrifying. Hyunjin felt the same, suddenly becoming a stuttering mess next to you, staring at you with shiny eyes and a dumb smile on his face while you'd come home from school every day with butterflies in your stomach and a new diary entry to write.

You noticed how pretty his smile was, how gentle his voice sounded when he spoke your name, how his eyes were trained on your lips one too many times. Hyunjin noticed how your silky hair fell over your shoulders, the way you'd flip it back when he called out to you, how you'd smile at him with rosy cheeks.

Then one night while you were sleeping, Hyunjin couldn't hold back anymore. He sneaked out of his room, stalking down the road quietly to your house, you were only a few minutes away from his place. He stood beneath your window, his palms clammy, heart pounding against his chest, his throat completely dry. There was no going back now. You were awakened by the sounds of little stones hitting your window and confusedly you sat up, squinting towards the direction where the sound was coming from.

"What the-" you started as you stood up. You quietly walked over to your window and peeked down.

"Hyunjin?" you wondered to yourself before opening the window abruptly just as he lifted his hand up and threw another little rock, almost hitting you straight in the face but you dodged with a gasp as it landed behind you.

"Bunny! I'm so sorry!" he panicked immediately, flailing his long arms, the nickname he always used for you making your stomach flutter.

"What are you doing here? It's 2am." you asked confusedly.

"Let me come up please. I need to talk to you." Hyunjin looked nervous, shifting from one foot to the other, chewing on his lip and playing with his fingers.

"Can't this wait until the morning?" your brain was still half asleep and the chilly air from the outside made you shiver in the little nightgown you had on.

"I mean... I guess it can. It's just I don't know if I will have courage tomorrow." he mumbled, looking down and kicking around the little rocks with his foot.

"Fine. Come on up." you said and Hyunjin climbed quickly even though you scolded him, reminding him to be careful and quiet.

"Sorry." he sheepishly smiled at you when you grabbed his wrists and pulled him inside, but his foot got stuck which ended in you falling backwards on your butt and him sprawled on the floor on his hands and knees, hovering over you.

"Hyunjin!" you grunted in pain. "If my grandparents find you here-"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" he whispered and the two of you just sat there quietly, trying to hear if there was any indication that someone was coming to your door.

But it was dead quiet, except for the crickets outside of your house and the loud thumping of your heart so both of you let out a breath of relief.

"What did you need to tell me?" you asked after the two of you sat down, you on your bed and Hyunjin on the chair. He stood up abruptly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Hyunjin rubbed his hands together as he looked away from you. You were suddenly worried, knowing he rarely gets this serious.

"I've been hiding this from you for a while but I can't hold it back anymore, even if you don't feel the same about me I need you to know how I feel because otherwise my chest will burst." he babbled, looking at you nervously.

"Jinnie, what are you talking about?" you asked with brows furrowed, your heartbeat picking up speed.

"I like you. More than friends. As in I'd like to kiss you and hold your hand and have it mean something more than just 'best friends'. I want to be your boyfriend." he blurted out, heart wilding in his chest as he scanned your face, looking for a reaction.

Your lips parted as you stared at him quietly for a moment, trying to process what he was saying. Your dear, sweet Jinnie who you were in love with for years was confessing to you? Looking so nervous and adorable, telling you he wants to kiss you and be yours?

You wished you could scream. So, you did just that. You grabbed your pillow and muffled your excited scream with it as Hyunjin stared at you with wide eyes.

"Um. Are you okay?" he chuckled awkwardly.

"Not really." you shook your head. "Sorry, it's just... I like you too, Jinnie. And I'd love to kiss you and be yours."

"Oh." he stood awkwardly in place like he wasn't expecting a positive answer.

"Are you gonna kiss me now?" you asked sheepishly after a moment of silence.

"Can I?" he looked excited and nervous as he came closer to you and you stood up slowly, nodding at him.

"I- You know I've never kissed anyone before." he said quietly.

"Me neither. It's okay." you gently took his hand in yours and Hyunjin felt the familiar comfort you always gave to him, reaching into his soul even now.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment, letting the dust settle and the reality sink in, smiles creeping up on your faces as you slowly leaned in. Lips against lips pressed together and your eyes fluttered shut, your entire body buzzing.

Hyunjin squeezed your hand, his other hand tentatively touching the side of your waist as you placed your hand on his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat underneath your fingers.

Everything fell into place then, you were his and he was yours-

"Miss? Miss, we're here." you snapped out of your reminiscing session as the driver pulled up to your grandparents house. You almost forgot how tiny the village is, how cozy and familiar all of it is. The dirt roads you walked on, mostly with Hyunjin by your side, the little forest that led to a clearing you used for picnic dates and stargazing, your grandmother's colorful garden, the porch she always sat on, admiring the flowers she helped grow. Even the air smelled familiar and it was almost as if you had never left.

"Let me help with your bags." the man said as you walked out of the car, taking a deep breath of fresh air into your lungs.

"Thank you." you said as he pulled out your suitcase. "Careful with those, please!" you added as the driver struggled, finally managing to put both of your suitcases down.

You missed the annoyed look he gave you while you put on your lipgloss, making sure your lips were nice and plump as you checked yourself out in the little pocket mirror.

"Oh, right." you remembered. "Here." you opened your wallet and grabbed some bills, paying the driver and leaving him a nice tip.

Before you could close your wallet, something caught your eye. A little picture of you and Hyunjin, where he was holding you from behind, both of your faces rosy with big smiles as you were chuckling together. You sighed and closed your wallet quickly, shoving it into your bag.

"Thanks for the tip, miss. Have a nice day." the man rounded his car.

"You too." you waved and he turned on his car while you stepped back as the screeching tires lifted up the dirt.

"Ugh." you made a disgusted face, turning around to pull your suitcases with you. After a struggle with the luggage, you managed to finally make the little wheels roll as you walked into the driveway of your childhood home.

"Shit!" your heart leaped out of your chest when your foot got stuck and you pulled, gasping once again when you realized your heel broke.

"Great. Just what I need." you rolled your eyes. Not a good beginning to this visit, you thought.

"Oh, she's here!" you heard the warm, familiar voice belonging to your grandma.

"Nana!" you called out to your grandma as she made her way to you, surprisingly agile for her age. "Oh!" you gasped when she gave you a bone crushing hug.

"Oh, how I missed you my child!" she was already pinching your cheeks as you groaned, noticing your grandfather had just walked out on the porch.

"There's my favorite grandchild." he said with a wink and you shook your, chuckling.

"Of course I'm your favorite when I'm the only one." you laughed quietly and grandma shushed you.

"Don't ruin his jokes, it makes him happy." she nudged you with a wink and you nodded.

"Come here." your grandpa kissed your cheeks, taking a moment to look at you.

"You look all serious and business-y." he said and you chuckled, looking down at your attire.

You were still wearing the suit you'd usually wear to work and the heels that were now broken.

"My heel broke." you remembered and you grandma started laughing.

"Honey, you can forget about heels here. I hope you brought some comfortable shoes that are dirt friendly." she joked as your grandpa helped with your luggage.

As soon as you walked into the house, you were hit with an even bigger wave of nostalgia than the one slowly building in your soul while you drove towards the village. They haven't changed almost anything, all the decoration was the same, everything smelled the same and familiar, like the home you grew up in never changed.

Like you never changed.

"Are you hungry, my child?"

"Oh yes." you nodded at your grandma eagerly, happy to be eating her home-cooked food.

"Good, wash your hands and join us for dinner."

She gave you some house slippers as you threw your poor broken heels aside and after washing your hands, you joined them at the table.

"So, how is the big city treating you?" your grandpa asked and you caught them up on your work, friends, your apartment, anything about the city you thought was worth mentioning.

"How are things here?" you asked after they listened to you, interested in your new experiences.

"Oh, you know. There is always something to do here. We have the house, the garden, the chickens, the goats. We are not as young and strong as we were once before but we are used to working. Plus, someone always comes to help out." nana explained.

"Like who?" you asked absentmindedly, chewing on the salad.

"Well, do you remember Chan? He was always a nice boy, that one. He got married recently but he still comes to help out with some repairs the house needs."

"Chan got married? Wow." you chuckled, it made sense. He had the same girlfriend for years and he was older than you so you weren't that surprised.

"And of course, Hyunjin." you grandma gave you a knowing smile as your entire body froze and you almost choked on your salad.

"Hyunjin got married?!" you spat out and your grandma gasped and then started laughing.

"No, dear, no." she chuckled at your reaction. "I meant Hyunjin comes here to help a lot. He repainted the entire kitchen and living room. Helps out with the animals and the garden when he isn't working on his farm. Or working around with other people, helping them build their houses and things like that."

"Oh..." you swallowed. "So, you see him a lot?"

"Yeah, almost every day!" grandpa chuckled. "He even joined us for breakfast this morning."

You suddenly felt a knot forming in your stomach. Hyunjin spent more time in your home, with your family than you did.

"Does he... does he have someone? You know. A partner." your voice broke a little as you blinked your tears away. You hated how you always cried easily, especially when it's about Hyunjin.

"No, he only works." your grandma frowned. "That boy never stops from early in the morning until late night hours. He just works and works his days away."

Somehow, that made you feel a little more at ease even though your heart still hurt.

"He asks about you, you know." grandma added.

You almost choked on your food again.

"He does?" you swallowed quickly, deciding that your appetite is now gone.

"Yeah. He asks if you're healthy, if you're doing good."

"Oh."

The weight of your grandma's words settled in your heart, heavy like a rock even as you tried to distract yourself with washing dishes and helping her clean up.

"Your room is the same as it was always. We never touched or removed anything." your grandma smiled at you, her hand gentle on your cheek.

"You should go see Hyunjin." she added.

"I- Maybe later." your throat dried up and you needed a moment to yourself, a moment to gather your thoughts. You walked up the stairs to your room as soon as you finished cleaning up, pulling your suitcases up with you. When the door creaked open, you were greeted by your past.

Your grandparents really left everything intact.

You stopped in your tracks after closing the door, too scared to move so you wouldn't disrupt the memories you were witnessing in your mind. Countless times Hyunjin and you spent here, ever since you were kids all the way up to the end of high school and the summer before you left for good. He was everywhere in that room. He sat on your windowsill, he paced around the floor, he swayed backwards on your chair (falling on his butt one too many times), he laid on your bed, kissing you and telling you how much he loves you.

There were polaroid pictures of you on the left side of your table, the drawings he gave you as a gift, your favorite teddy bear he got you for your one year anniversary still propped up against your pillows... You opened your drawer and found your diaries, his name scribbled on the pages, on your heart. You picked up one of the polaroids as your other hand automatically went to your chest. The couple necklaces you shared, one half of a heart was still around your neck, hidden under your shirt and close to your heart, the other one was still with him or maybe it wasn't. Maybe he threw it away after you left and never came back, not even returning his calls or texts.

"Hyunjin..." you whispered as you smiled at the picture, him with his hair over his eyes trying to make a scary face and you in the back, your hands on his shoulders as you stood on your tippy toes and put your tongue out, making a silly face.

Suddenly, you were overcome by emotions and tears spilled from your eyes. You loved him your entire life. And even if you tried to escape that feeling, you never really could. Hyunjin grew roots inside your heart and he wasn't going anywhere any time soon. You let yourself cry for a moment, hugging the teddy bear as you sat on your bed.

Should you go see him?

He has every right to be mad at you and you were scared of him turning a cold shoulder. But then again, your grandma said he asks for you. Maybe he is just curious?

Either way, you weren't ready to face him yet.

You decided to unpack and shower, change into something more comfortable and hopefully catch up on sleep.

But as soon as you got into your bed, sleep wouldn't come to you, no matter how quiet and peaceful the village was in comparison to the city and how comfortable your old bed was. Your mind drifted off to that night when Hyunjin snuck in, right before your prom.

Six years ago

"Hey, little bunny." Hyunjin had climbed through the window that you left open for him, knocking down one of your books from the shelf next to it in the process.

"Hyun!" you scolded him with a chuckle.

"I know, I know. I'm trying to be quiet." he whispered, lifting his arms up in defeat.

"Come here, clumsy." you giggled and he practically skipped to you, his long arms wrapping around your smaller frame and pulling you into him.

"I'm so excited for tomorrow." your voice was muffled by his chest and he chuckled.

"Me too. I hope I don't step on your toes." he grimaced and you looked up at him, your fingers tangled in his long dark hair.

"You won't. You're a great dancer and we practiced a lot." you smiled, caressing the back of his neck and Hyunjin melted, his arms tightening around you.

"Yes, but when I'm nervous I can't control my body." he whined with a pout. "There will be other people there, looking at us and-"

"You'll do fine, trust me." you interrupted his nervous babbling. "Just imagine it's the two of us, like right now." you swayed slowly and he followed you, exhaling and pressing his forehead against yours.

"I love you, little bunny." he whispered.

"I love you too, Jinnie." you whispered back and his lips were on yours instantly. Hands explored awkwardly as you were backed into your bed, falling down with Hyunjin on top of you. You had messed around like this before, his hands under your nightgown, fingers dipping into your underwear, your hand wrapped around his length.

"H-Hyunjin?" you whimpered as he slowly pumped his fingers inside you, kissing your neck.

"Yes, doll?" he whispered back, the nickname giving you shivers.

"I'm ready. For... you know. I wanna go all the way with you." you bit on your lip as his eyes widened.

"Are you- are you sure? I can wait for you for however long you need. You don't have to feel pressured." he shook his head, pulling his fingers out.

"No, no. I am sure. I love you and I want to be yours completely." you gripped at his shoulders and Hyunjin's heart leaped out of his chest as he smiled sweetly at you.

"I want to be yours completely too. Be your first and your last. And you mine."

"Jinnie." you almost started crying from the overwhelming feelings, your lips quickly finding his. Hyunjin was a little awkward, unsure of himself and scared that he'll hurt you or do something wrong but he was still gentle, trying to put you first even though he was more excited than ever to have you like this and be connected with you.

"I have condoms in the drawer." you pointed at the nightstand and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"You were planning this?" his face became as red as a tomato.

"I mean, yeah." you nodded, the color of your cheeks matching his. "I've wanted this with you for some time but I was nervous to tell you." you admitted.

"You're so cute, bunny." Hyunjin giggled, caressing your cheek gently with his knuckles.

"Ugh." you groaned in embarrassment while he kept chuckling, reaching for the drawer.

The moment he started pushing in, the world around you disappeared and you were concentrated only on him.

"Does it hurt?" Hyunjin asked as he kept filling you up gently.

"A little." you gasped, it was definitely a bigger stretch than his fingers.

"I'm sorry." he looked guilty immediately. "Do you want me to stop?"

"N-no. Keep going." you whispered, holding onto his upper back.

Hyunjin's eyes fluttered shut when he bottomed out inside you, his entire body was buzzing, his heart was beating fast and he was trying to gather all the mental and physical strength not to finish too quickly.

"Y/n." he gasped when he finally opened his eyes and looked at you, a sweet lovestruck expression on your face, your eyes sparkling, all for him, all his.

"Hyunjin." you moaned at the way he felt inside you and the way he looked at you, like you hung all the stars in the sky just for him.

"I adore you, bunny." Hyunjin said gently and your heart bursted right then and there.

"I adore you too." you whispered back.

He slowly started moving inside you, whispering words of love and praise the entire time as you clutched onto him and returned his praises.

You've never felt like that before, completely and utterly loved by him, connected with him.

Which made it harder for you to give him the news you were supposed to tomorrow after prom.

Present time

You were rudely awakened at 5am when the rooster in your nana's backyard started crowing loudly.

"Ugh!" you forgot about all the charms of living in a village as you grabbed the pillow and put it over your face, a muffled 'shut up' pressed into it. You waited for a few moments, throwing the pillow aside and turning to your left, coming face to face with the teddy bear Hyunjin gave you, which of course you named 'Jinnie' back then, making your boyfriend laugh adoringly at you.

"Good morning, Jinnie." you said to the teddy, pulling the plushie closer to you as you hugged it and sighed. "Guess I should get up." you added with a shrug before stretching and then getting up.

You opened up your wardrobe, choosing to wear a red dress with a dainty floral print on it and got ready in your room, listening to music just like you did every day before school or a date with your boyfriend years ago. You opened up another drawer in your table and gasped when you saw the corsage that Hyunjin gave to you when he came to pick you up before prom.

You clutched it in your hand and thought back to that night, when Hyunjin came to pick you up.

Six years ago

To say Hyunjin was nervous was an understatement. He felt as if every atom of his being was about to burst into little pieces when he rang your doorbell. He was a wreck as he kept wiping his sweaty palms against his jacket, annoyed at the fact that no matter how many deep breaths he took, his heart was still hammering against his chest, ready to burst. Why was he so nervous? It was just you, his little bunny.

Oh, but he wasn't ready and he was right to be so nervous because as soon as your grandma opened the door with a smile, ushering him in, his eyes landed on you and they widened. Hyunjin felt as if the world stopped spinning, all the clocks stopped ticking, his heart quit beating and his breath got stuck in his throat. You became the only center of gravity, pulling him in towards you and nothing else around the two of you mattered.

He was completely and utterly floored and whipped for you.

Hyunjin finally understood the meaning of the word 'breathtaking' because that was the only thing that came to mind as you smiled at him so beautifully, so in love, so happy, wearing the most gorgeous dress he'd ever seen you in.

"Y/n." was the only thing he managed to say and you chuckled, your heart swelling at his reaction.

It was your turn to gawk as he came closer to you, you'd never seen him wearing a suit before and he looked even more handsome than he ever did. Your knees buckled when he stood close to you, the smell of his cologne was intoxicating but his lovestruck smile was even more mesmerizing.

Your grandparents smiled lovingly at the two of you before glancing at each other knowingly as Hyunjin gave you your corsage, gently putting it on your wrist. So many pictures were taken before you had to rush out so you wouldn't be late to the dance.

The night was magical and everything seemed possible under the fairy lights as Hyunjin and you swayed to the gentle melody of the familiar song coming from the speakers.

"Do you want to slip out after our song?" Hyunjin's plump lips brushed against your ear as he pulled you tighter into his heated body.

"Won't the chaperones notice?" you asked as you looked up at him only to find him smirking.

"We'll be stealthy." he said and you giggled.

"Right, stealthy."

"Yes, see I didn't even step on your foot!"

"Not yet." you teased him and Hyunjin pouted, whining and burying his face in your shoulder.

"Mean bunny." he tickled your sides, making you squirm and squeal.

"Fine, sorry." you giggled, knowing he wasn't actually offended. "You did a great job." you added and Hyunjin looked up at you with a sweet smile, his cheeks rosy.

"Thank you, doll. You did too." he smirked, brushing his lips against yours.

You managed to sneak out somehow while everyone was dancing to a quicker beat and you knew exactly where you were going; to your favorite spot with Hyunjin, the path to it so familiar that you could walk through it blind, the soil remembering all your footsteps.

"Hyune, um... I'm wearing heels." you whispered as he shined the path ahead with a little pocket flashlight.

"Oh, right." he thought for a moment before kneeling down. "Get on my back, doll."

"Are you sure?" you asked and he chuckled.

"Of course." he nodded eagerly and you climbed up on his back, feeling light and happy, giggles spilling from both of your lips. "Hold this." Hyunjin gave you the light and you shined it ahead as he gripped the back of your thighs and carried you.

Being a little tease, Hyunjin pretended he was going to drop you a few times only to have you almost scream as your arms wrapped tighter around him.

"Stop that!" you whined.

"Sorry, sorry bunny. I'll stop. You're just so cute." he smirked.

"If you weren't carrying me right now, you'd be in big trouble." you scolded and Hyunjin let out a laugh, your favorite tree coming into view.

"Yes, I know. Biiiig trouble." he kept chuckling and you were this close to biting his shoulder.

"Here we are, bunny." he gently put you down and wrapped his arm around you as the two of you stared at the carving in the trunk.

Hyunjin + Y/n.

Both of you laughed then, you had carved your names in when you were barely 16 and seeing it now was equally as embarrassing as it was sweet.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?" you looked up at Hyunjin and he smiled sweetly at you.

"I promise I'll love you forever." he whispered, lifting his pinky and you giggled.

"I promise I'll love you forever too, my sweet Jinnie." you whispered back, your pinky curling around his.

Hyunjin chuckled in delight and pulled you into a sweet kiss.

You didn't have the heart to tell him you got into uni and would be leaving the village in September.

Present time

You had to go visit the tree.

"Fuck." you cursed, angrily wiping your tears away, before putting the corsage back into the drawer and slamming it shut.

Too many memories.

You quickly made your way downstairs where your nana was already serving breakfast.

"Oh, I thought you'd be sleeping more, dear." she lifted her brows in surprise.

"I thought so too." you joked, giving her a pointed look and she laughed.

"I see you forgot how it is here." nana shook her head. "When you haven't been around for so long."

"I'm sorry." you grimaced, sitting down to eat with her. "I know I should've visited more. I got caught up in studies and work and-"

"Breathe, dear." your grandma squeezed your hand with a chuckle. "It's not me who you should be explaining this to."

You gulped, knowing she was referring to Hyunjin.

"Where's grandpa?" you asked.

"He's out back, working."

"I was thinking of going for a walk before lunch. I'll make sure to come back though to help out."

"Sure, dear. You haven't been here for so long, you should catch up with the place and the people." grandma nodded with a wink and that was exactly what you planned to do.

It was around 7am when you finally walked out of the house, inhaling the fresh air you were deprived of in the big city. It was a bit chilly in the morning so you draped a light jacket over your shoulders and let your legs lead you through the familiar streets.

You still didn't want to see Hyunjin so you went the opposite direction of his house, trying to stick to the shadows for now, just to have a little more peace to yourself and mentally prepare for the inevitable encounters of everyone you grew up with.

It was painful. Walking all the familiar paths you walked through before with him, it was as if you could hear his laughter echoing down the street. Your heart squeezed in your chest when you realized just where your legs had taken you.

The tree.

It was still there, as tall as ever, its branches familiar as you and Hyunjin had laid under them multiple times, kissing, talking, laughing, holding each other close. You walked closer, your eyes brimming with tears when you saw the carving. Hyunjin + Y/n. Forever.

The word you had added that night after prom.

You cursed yourself mentally for crying again and being so overcome with emotions. You couldn't stand there for too long and were about to leave when something caught your eye. Another carving, smaller and almost unnoticeable on the right side of yours. You leaned in closer to inspect it and your heart almost stopped.

Hyunjin.

Nothing else, just his name was carved into the wood and you felt fresh tears forming in your eyes. Leaving was definitely a mistake, maybe the biggest mistake you ever made, especially after the let down you experienced in the city. You wiped your tears away again and decided to leave the tree be, your heart hurting at the thought of Hyunjin sitting under the branches alone, carving his name and wondering why you had never called back or came to see him. You walked away, back down the path and into the village, deep in your thoughts. Lost in the memories of what once was you didn't even realize where you came, as your legs walked on autopilot.

Only when the familiar light blue house came into view, you snapped from your thoughts, eyes wide and heart dropping into your stomach.

"Shit!" you whisper-yelled. This was the only house you wanted to avoid and yet you were standing right in front of it. As far as you knew, Hyunjin's parents didn't live there anymore, he was living in the big house completely alone, his only companions his animals.

Your knees almost gave out as you stared, before getting spooked when you heard barking. A big black dog ran to the fence, barking at you in warning. You had never seen it before so Hyunjin must've gotten it after you went to the city. You backed away as the dog kept barking at you in a not-so-friendly manner. You turned and started walking away, hoping Hyunjin didn't hear that or wasn't home because you still weren't ready to see him let alone talk to him.

Then, you heard a familiar voice.

"Easy girl, easy." you assumed he was talking to the dog as the barking subsided immediately and you stopped in your tracks.

"Well, well." you heard then. "If it isn't little bunny."

Your heart leaped out of your chest. You hadn't heard that nickname in years.

"Don't even wanna say hi?" Hyunjin continued and you heard the sound of the little fence door opening. Slowly, you turned around and basically almost fainted.

This wasn't your sweet, shy and little Jinnie. You almost didn't recognize him as you stared at him with eyes wide and mouth agape.

His long hair was gone, replaced by a neat buzzcut that was also bleached, he had piercings on his ears, his arms were big and muscular, a few tattoos here and there, visible in the tanktop he wore. He looked taller, bigger, more manly. Your knees buckled and the more you looked at him the more you felt lightheaded.

Hyunjin smirked, noticing how you were salivating and a little chuckle escaped his lips.

"Gonna catch flies like that." he teased and you closed your mouth, attempting to compose yourself as you stood up straighter. His eyes then traveled all over your frame, the teasing glint inside them turning into something softer until they fell on the necklace and he felt as if the ground underneath his feet almost gave out.

You were still wearing it. Just like he was, his half heart hidden under his top.

"Hi." you said quietly. "You look different."

"A lot can change in six years." he stated, still keeping a good distance away from you.

"It can." you stepped back, feeling suffocated by his presence as you tried to read his face and tone of voice. Was there anger? Regret? Did he resent you?

"You're different too." a small smile appeared on his lips.

"How so?" you tilted your head to the left, thinking how you pretty much looked the same since the end of high school.

"You've gotten even more beautiful." Hyunjin said like it was nothing and you were sure you were having a heart attack in that moment.

"I- That- Thank you." you had no idea what to say. "I have to go... Help nana with lunch. And stuff."

Hyunjin smiled wider.

"I'll see you later then, bunny."

"Sure." you turned around so quickly that you almost snapped your neck. Hyunjin watched with bathed breath as you scurried away from him.

You finally came back.

-

"Did you see Hyunjin?" nana asked as you helped her clean around the kitchen after lunch.

"Accidentally, yes." you said and she chuckled.

"I never understood why you broke up, you two are made for each other." she said and you almost dropped the plate you were holding.

"We didn't... actually break up. I just left."

"I thought you were still together back then, I was wondering why he never went to visit you or you him. I only realized you weren't together once he asked me if I knew where you lived in the city. Which I forgot the address, dear, so I hope I didn't do anything wrong by not telling him."

"No, no, nana. You did nothing wrong. It was my fault. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I'm not so sure anymore." your eyes welled up with tears as you clutched onto the counter.

"Oh, honey." your grandma was instantly by your side.

"I told him I would come back. I wouldn't be surprised if he hated me now and wanted nothing to do with me." you sniffled as nana wiped your tears away.

"Oh dear, Hyunjin doesn't hate you. He talks very fondly of you always. That boy still loves you."

"He- He does?" you thought back to your encounter today.

"A love like that doesn't disappear overnight. Or over the span of six years." your grandma teased, making you chuckle through your tears.

"If you say so."

"Talk to him. He is coming to dinner tonight anyways." she announced.

"He is what?!" you almost yelled.

"He usually joins us for dinner. At least a few days in the week."

You panicked immediately.

"I have to go get ready then!"

Nana bursted into laughter as she watched you frantically run up the stairs.

"What was that about?" grandpa came in, looking up at the metaphorical dust that you left behind after running.

"Oh you know. Love." grandma winked at him and he shook his head with a smile.

Shit.

Hyunjin is coming over for dinner. You had to look your best.

You've gotten even more beautiful.

His words rang in your head and your cheeks became red instantly, heart beating hard in your chest. You quickly opened your wardrobe and began throwing clothes everywhere, your room soon looking as if a tornado had passed through it. You tried on multiple outfits but with every single one you found something wrong. The color was too bright, the shirt was too big, the pants looked weird...

So you settled on another dress, a pretty and white flowy one with yellow flowers on it, the shape of it accentuating your frame, your bare legs on display. You decided to wear heels too and put on some makeup. You were so nervous as if you hadn't already been his.

While you were doing your hair, you stared into your reflection and remembered that warm summer night when you told Hyunjin you were leaving.

Six years ago

Hyunjin and you sat on a blanket, staring up at the stars shimmering in the dark sky.

"Jinnie." you swallowed nervously.

"Yes, bunny?" he smiled, playing with your fingers.

"I have something to tell you."

"Oh? Okay." he nodded, sitting up.

"Um. It's been weighing on me since prom."

"You sound serious." Hyunjin's expression turned into one of worry.

"It is serious. And I didn't tell you earlier because I was afraid of how you'd react." your heart started beating fast. "I got into my uni of choice."

"Bunny! You did?" he smiled wide. "Why didn't you tell me that? You know I support you and I'm proud of you."

"I know. It's just that... I'm leaving and I don't know when I'll be back." you said. "We talked about this briefly before but... I don't want to stay in the village. There is nothing for me here, I mean career wise. Meanwhile... You decided to work with your father and build your life here."

Hyunjin's smile dropped.

"What are you saying?" his voice sounded strained.

"Are we... Are we breaking up?" he asked, tears forming in his eyes.

"No. No. I don't want to. I don't know." you bit your lip and looked away from him.

"Y/n. Please, don't do this. I've known no one but you my whole life. You're the one I love and the one I promised forever to. We even talked about building a life together, getting married, having kids."

"I know, I know. You're my first love, Jinnie. And those were all nice daydreams but there comes a time when you need to grow up."

"Daydreams? Bunny. Those were plans." his bottom lip trembled and he frowned. "This really sounds like you're breaking up with me."

"No, no." tears started spilling down your cheeks when you saw the hurt in his eyes and realized how harsh your words sounded. "Just... I'm confused. I don't know what to do." you put your hands over your face, a sob escaping your lips.

Hyunjin's eyes softened and he put his hand on your upper back, gently caressing you.

"Hey, look. I know you're scared now, this is a big change. But, we'll figure it out together. You go finish your studies, do what you always wanted to. But please don't throw away what we have. I'll always wait for you, I'll wait until you come visit or I can visit you. We can call each other, we don't have to grow apart in order for you to grow."

"I guess not." his words hit you hard as you looked up at him.

"Don't cry, baby. I love you and I'm so happy for you. I'm so proud of my little bunny." he talked, wiping your tears away.

"Jinnie. I love you too." you clutched onto his shirt and cried into his chest.

Oh, how you were going to miss him.

Present time

But after you left, you never even contacted him.

You knew how cruel that was but you thought it was for the best. If you were going to build a life in the city and he was going to stay behind in the village, it was better off like this.

Childhood crushes and high school sweethearts don't always last, do they?

But, your heart hurt so badly every day you were away from Hyunjin. You wanted to forget him, stop loving him but you couldn't no matter how hard you tried. Every time you thought you were ready to take off the couple necklace, your hands would stop functioning. You couldn't bring yourself to do that, the necklace felt as if it was a part of you and despite being away from Hyunjin you knew your heart would always belong to him.

With a sigh, you finished getting ready, wondering if he could really still love you after you'd hurt him like that.

Before you could come down, you heard voices under your window and you stalked towards it curiously. It was closed so you couldn't understand what they were saying but Hyunjin stood there with your grandpa, his back turned to you. You gasped a little, noticing then how his shoulders and upper back also got wider, the black shirt he wore almost ripping at the seams.

"Give me strength." you prayed to whoever was listening before you decided to stop hiding and finally made your way downstairs.

"Yes, I'll definitely ask Chan to help out with the fence, I think he won't be busy this weekend." Hyunjin said to your grandpa as they walked into the kitchen.

"Great! That's settled then!" grandpa clapped his hands with a satisfied smile. Hyunjin looked up at you then and stopped walking, giving you the elevator eyes.

"Good evening." he smirked a little.

"Evening." you said breathlessly and you grandma chuckled.

"Why are you two acting so formal?" grandpa asked as you sat down.

"Leave them be. They just encountered each other after a long time." nana scolded him and he gave a little shrug.

Hyunjin was sitting right across from you and you felt as if there was nowhere to hide. He kept looking at you curiously and you felt so awkward, trying to avoid his eyes as all of you started taking food out on the plates and eating.

Hyunjin couldn't calm his heart down. All the feelings that he carried inside of him every single day, from dawn to late night, were now amplified a thousand times. All those nights he had thought about you and seen you in his dreams couldn't compare to you actually being in front of him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you, he missed you deeply. The love he always had for you never subsided, it only grew more even while you were apart.

Though, he knew that there were things the two of you needed to talk about, he decided not to think about the hurtful side of it, tossing it in the back of his mind as he continued to bask in your presence. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, your hands, the way your brows creased when you asked a question to your nana, the way you looked up at him timidly only to look away, the way you nervously chewed on your bottom lip, the way that necklace he gave you laid on your skin, still there, as if you had never left, a sign that you perhaps still loved him as much as he loved you.

"So, how is the city treating ya?" Hyunjin asked you suddenly, eyes trained on you as they have been the entire evening.

"It's... okay." you answered but Hyunjin knew you were lying. He knew when you wore a fake smile and he knew the tone of your voice once you tried to convince yourself you're fine.

"Oh yeah? Got that job you always wanted, hm?" he asked and you looked up at him, trying to see if he was mocking you or resenting you but he looked genuinely curious.

"I did." you answered shortly, a knot forming in your stomach. "I got what I wanted." you forced another smile.

"I'm glad you did." he smiled and you felt the urge to cry again. You wondered what was wrong with you and shook your head, trying to will yourself to smile back at him.

"I always thought the two of you would get married." your nana chimed in, making you almost choke on a piece of bread. Hyunjin chuckled and looked at you.

"We're still young." he smirked a little and you started praying that the floor opens up and swallows you whole.

"You two remind me of us when we were younger." grandpa nodded with a smile.

No, you thought, please stop.

You were really going to start crying.

"Excuse me. I need some air." you stood up abruptly, the chair almost falling over behind you.

Hyunjin watched as you ran out of the front door and he stood up too, excusing himself and following you.

You stood on the porch, hugging yourself and sniffling.

"Y/n?" Hyunjin approached you cautiously. You quickly wiped your tears away with the sleeve of your cardigan before turning to look at him.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Sure." you nodded but he knew you were crying.

"You wanna take a walk?" Hyunjin asked, biting on his lip and you chuckled, shaking your head.

"Yeah, why not." you nodded, maybe it was time to stop avoiding him.

You didn't even discuss where you were going to go, you just started walking together in the same direction you always did while you grew up here. It was quiet for a while, only the song of the crickets filling up your ears, a few distant barks and the breeze rustling through the leaves.

"So, what have you been doing?" you asked, trying to break the ice. You couldn't believe you felt so awkward with someone you could talk to the easiest with, out of anyone in your entire life.

"Me? Oh, you know... Working around the farm. I repaired the entire house with some of my mates. It was in a really bad shape, if you remember. We re-did everything, even the roofing and the pipes. Repainted the entire place, changed the furniture... So, it's now like a new house. And I have horses and chickens. A garden. I mean, I work all day, help out others too." he chuckled. "My parents are in the city, they visit sometimes. But, mostly I'm here with Rina, she has been my best friend for three years now."

"Rina?" your stomach dropped instantly.

"Yes, that overprotective black dog that barked at you." Hyunjin smirked at your expression.

"Oh... That's Rina." you said absentmindedly, finally glancing at him.

Your heart stopped.

The necklace. He must've unbuttoned one more button while you were walking, making the other half of the heart visible under his collarbone. He never stopped wearing it either. Suddenly, your stomach filled up with butterflies.

"She's wary of strangers coming near me."

Ouch.

"Yeah." you turned away, the butterflies turning into a feeling of nausea.

"I mean, strangers to her." Hyunjin clarified, realizing how he sounded.

"Yeah, I understand." you gave him a smile you hoped looked real, because you were seconds away from crying. "You still paint?" you decided to change the subject.

"Oh yeah, all the time." he smiled. "Enough about me. What about you?"

"Me? I also work all day. In the office. It's... interesting, I guess. I bought an apartment recently, it's really modern." you talked, realizing how empty your words sounded then. You had no idea what to tell Hyunjin. He had all these projects and people who care about him, animals he cares for and his hobbies. Meanwhile, all you had was a job you ended up hating and no one to come home to.

"I travel a lot." you added, trying to fill up the silence. "For work but also for fun, with some of my coworkers. We went all the way to Bali last year. It was a fun trip, you know. Stuff like that."

"Sounds exhilarating." Hyunjin said, sounding anything but. "Anyone special in your life?"

Why did he ask that.

"No, nobody." you quickly answered.

Hyunjin was hoping you'd say that.

"Good. I mean- Me neither." he coughed awkwardly and stopped walking. You were about to ask why he stopped when you noticed where you were.

"Oh." you let out a chuckle, your face warming up.

You hadn't even realized you came to the only park in the village, and not just that, you were standing in front of your and Hyunjin's bench, where you used to sit after school, talking and kissing.

And well, you sat here on many evenings just like this one, making out. Your face started burning suddenly.

"Shall we sit?" Hyunjin asked and you nodded reluctantly as you felt like you were going to throw up from nerves. The two of you sat down, the silence stretching between you again.

"I-" Hyunjin opened his mouth, then closed them, repeating the action a few times, his brows furrowing and cheeks rosy, his hands gripping the edge of the bench like he was struggling to get his words out. You were almost swallowed by the nerves you felt in that moment, you were scared that he was going to tell you off, just what you deserve.

"I tried to find you." he let out a shaky exhale. "You covered up your tracks pretty well." he scoffed. "I mean, I got the message. You didn't want to see me ever again. And I'd be fine with that if only you gave me a reason, told me why you just disappeared from my life when you've been a part of it since forever. I thought for some time that you have completely abandoned me. But, somewhere deep in my soul I knew you'd be back one day, Y/n."

"Hyunjin..." your bottom lip trembled as your eyes watered. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I made a huge mistake. And I would totally understand if you hated me or resented me and never wanted to forgive me. Just know I felt bad the entire time and I still do." you were full on crying and feeling embarrassed, you looked away from Hyunjin.

"I could never hate you, little bunny." his voice sounded soft and you willed yourself to look at him while you wiped your tears away even though they kept coming. "And I forgave you a long time ago." he whispered. You noticed he was sitting closer to you and your body trembled.

"You did? Why?" you asked quietly.

"Because it's you." he answered simply and you felt annoyed, wanting to hear more. But, before you could ask Hyunjin stood up abruptly.

"Let's meet up tomorrow. Have a picnic like we always used to." he said and you stood up too.

You stared at him and kept thinking, could things go back to how they were before?

You felt as if there was something he wasn't telling you yet, there was no way he forgave you so easily for abandoning him.

"What do you say?" Hyunjin looked at you hopefully.

"Sure. Yeah." you nodded, your body swirling with feelings of confusion, excitement, nostalgia, happiness, sadness... You had no idea how to explain it.

"Great. I'll come to your house around 10am."

"Sounds good."

"Let me walk you home." he added, the two of you walking and talking about the village, who stayed and who moved, which new stores opened and all the other insignificant little things just to avoid the big elephant that needed to be addressed.

"I'll see you tomorrow, bunny." Hyunjin put his hands in his jeans pockets, trying to look nonchalant.

"See you." you hurried inside.

"And that smile?" your nana's voice scared you.

"Oh, nana! Ugh, nothing. I'm just going to see Hyunjin tomorrow." you answered quickly.

"Oh. Hyunjin." she smirked knowingly. "Well, have a good night." she winked before leaving to her room.

You hoped you were going to be able to sleep tonight.

You managed to sleep through the rooster's wake up call, opening your eyes just in time to get ready for your picnic date.

Was it a date? You had no idea what was going to happen but still you wore another pretty dress and put on your makeup. You decided to wear extra shiny lipgloss to make your lips stand out, hopefully get Hyunjin's attention. You felt giddy, like you were that same school girl meeting up her boyfriend, the love of her life.

"Oh, dear you look so pretty." your grandma noted when you came downstairs.

"Thank you, nana." you smiled.

"Are you gonna eat anything?"

"No, Hyunjin told me not to worry and that he'd bring everything."

"Okay, well have fun you two!" she winked at you and you kissed her cheek before skipping out of the house and towards the street where Hyunjin said he'd wait for you.

He wasn't there yet so you stood in place, shifting from foot to foot and wondering why he is late since he'd always been punctual. It was already almost 10:15 and you were beginning to think he had played a cruel joke on you. You were already tearing up at the thought of that but maybe you deserved it after the way you treated him.

You were about to turn around and leave but you heard heavy footsteps running towards you.

"Y/n! I'm so sorry for being late!" it was a breathless Hyunjin, leaning his palms against his knees as he scrunched his face up and tried to calm his heart. "I ran into Chan on the way and he needed help carrying some things, I couldn't say no." he swallowed, straightening up.

Just then you noticed the backpack on his shoulders and the thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, the tanktop was there again and your eyes followed all the veins popping out.

"Oh, it's okay." you shook your head, feeling stupid.

"Shall we?" he smiled and you nodded, letting him lead the way. His eyes lingered on your lips for a while as he bit on his, before starting to walk. It was clear to you where you were going, the tree was your picnic and stargazing spot for years.

"I saw you by the tree the other day." Hyunjin said, putting his backpack down and opening it.

"Oh? You did?" your heart climbed up your throat.

"Yeah." he smiled. " I thought I was hallucinating."

You chuckled, feeling the need to smack his arm like you always did when he made you laugh but you refrained from doing so.

"Nope, I'm here." you said, helping him put the blanket down.

"I'm glad you are." he said and the two of you sat down, Hyunjin taking everything that he had packed out; fruit salad, sandwiches, coffee. You didn't feel like you deserved this. You wanted to ask him so many things. Like why did he carve his name alone in the tree trunk, why did he seem so normal about all of this, why didn't he just yell at you, like any other person would after being hurt.

"Hyunjin?" you gulped, poking around the plastic container with the fruit. He gave you an unreadable look, his brows furrowing.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" he said and you chuckled nervously.

"Well, that's your name."

"Yeah but you always called me nicknames. Like Jinnie or Hyune. And other things." he looked at the field of flowers swaying in front of you.

You hadn't answered so he turned to look at you.

"Why aren't you yelling at me or cursing me out?" you asked and Hyunjin's eyes widened a little.

"Why would I do that?" he tilted his head.

"Because I promised I'd love you forever and I left. I didn't even come back for six years, I thought I was doing a good thing. That I'd be better off in the city and you'd be better off without me. That I'd be able to move on and forget you. I thought I'd never come back here but after what happened-" your shut your lips tightly, eyes watering. "After being disappointed with everything I thought I wanted in my life, I came back here and expected to see that you moved on or even gotten married. I expected you to hate me, yell at me, curse at me. But here we are, sitting under our tree, having a picnic like I never broke your heart and mine." you were now full on crying, your bottom lip trembling and hands shaking.

Hyunjin observed you with a wistful look in his eyes before smiling softly.

"You wanna know why I'm not yelling or cursing at you?" he said, leaning closer to you.

"W-why?" you stuttered, he got into your private space and even though he changed and grew, he still had that comforting scent of Hyunjin, the one that brought you so much comfort and nostalgia.

"Because of this." he reached towards you and gently gripped the pendant of your necklace between his fingertips. "You're still wearing our necklace. And that tells me everything I need to know. Bunny, I've known you my whole life, I've loved you my whole life. I knew you wouldn't be happy in the city and I knew you'd come back here to me one day. I know that because we were made for each other and because I could feel you inside me every day. I just knew our story wasn't over, it was just beginning."

You were at a loss of words, crying and sobbing as Hyunjin talked, feeling embarrassed and also like you wanted to roll down the hill from excitement. You wiped at your face, trying not to screw up the makeup you worked so hard on while letting his words settle inside your head.

"Oh my god, Hyunjin!" you shrieked suddenly, grabbing onto his arm on accident.

"Y/n." he laughed as you kept squealing and gripping at his bicep while a little bee flew around your body. "It's just a bee, don't be scared."

"Please, make it go away." you whined.

"What can I do, a bee found a pretty flower." Hyunjin smirked at you then and you looked up at him with your eyes squinted before slapping his arm. The loud sound made you jolt a little and you looked down at the muscle, something fluttering inside you. Your cheeks warmed up instantly. Hyunjin smirked, his other hand cupping your jaw gently as he made you look at him.

"You didn't break your promise, doll. You still love me." he smiled.

"I do." you confessed quietly and his eyes sparkled a little as he leaned in closer. His eyes fluttered, his cheeks became rosy and his warm breath caressed your lips. You jolted away suddenly, afraid and you had no idea why.

"I'm sorry!" you said quickly, placing your palm over your heart. Hyunjin looked a little confused, his fingers twitching as his hands longed to comfort you in any way they could.

"I got nervous." you said and Hyunjin laughed.

"Don't laugh at me!" you whined with a pout, kicking your feet a little and that made him laugh even harder. "Stop it." you crossed your arms over your chest with a little huff escaping your lips.

"You're just so cute, bunny." how many times has he told you that and it still made your heart flutter. "It's okay. I waited for you for six years, I can wait a little more."

"I just didn't expect things to go like this." you swallowed and Hyunjin scooted closer to you, tentatively touching your fingertips with his. That was enough for you to feel the electricity running through your body.

"I understand. We'll fall back into us in no time."

"You think so?" you asked, inching closer to him, your fingers now playing with his.

"I know so." he smiled confidently. "Just have to ask one question."

"Anything." you nodded.

"Are you back for good or just the anniversary?"

You looked down and took in a deep breath.

"Please don't tell this to my grandparents yet. But I am back for good. I quit my job and sold my apartment, I didn't tell them anything because I am just waiting for the right moment." your voice trembled.

"Didn't something happen?" Hyunjin asked, leaning down to look at your face.

"Just... People were disgusting. The job was depressing. The apartment was cold. The city was lonely. And maybe a part of me hoped you'd be here waiting for me no matter how selfish that is. Because, I don't think I could ever stop loving you, Jinnie. Even if someone wiped away my entire memory I would still have you engraved inside my heart."

"Bunny." Hyunjin cupped your cheeks. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone anything. I'm sad you went through all of that but it brought you back here, didn't it?"

You nodded.

"And I am glad it did." he leaned in again.

"Ack! The bee!" you squealed as the little creature came back to buzzing around you.

"Silly." Hyunjin chuckled under his breath, 'shielding' you from the scary bee.

You felt as if a stone has been lifted off of your heart as the two of you continued catching up and reminiscing of the good old days. Hours passed by so quickly that you almost didn't realize it was lunch time.

"Nana is expecting me at home for lunch. Do you wanna join us?" you asked with a timid smile.

"I'd love to but Chan invited me to his house for lunch today. We'll come to you tomorrow, he is also excited to see you again, you know that you were always like a little sister to him."

"Oh, I'm excited to see him too." you chuckled.

You couldn't believe that everyone has welcomed you with open arms after you left like that and you were still trying to come to terms that you won't be going back to the city ever again.

When Hyunjin said him and Chan would come around to help your grandpa repair the fence out back, you totally forgot about the fact that Hyunjin would be in a sleeveless top, flexing his muscles and wiping away his sweat constantly. Summer was knocking at the door and the sun was high in the sky. You wore the red dress from the first day, the one Hyunjin stared at so intently when you stood outside of his house. When Chan saw you he made a funny squealing noise, running up to you and picking you up as if you were paper doll, spinning you around as you screamed at him to put you down.

"Aww little Y/n is back!" he pinched your cheeks and you smacked his hands away with a pout.

"I'm only three years younger than you, bro." you emphasized and he laughed.

"I'm glad to see you here. I was beginning to think our Hyunjinnie would die alone." he smirked and Hyunjin punched his side with his fist mumbling a 'shut up or else' and you let out a laugh.

"Congrats on getting married, old man." you smirked and Hyunjin was glad you teased Chan back, a snicker escaping his lips.

"Didn't you say a moment ago it was only three years difference?" he smirked back and you exhaled, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Enough chit-chat. Time to work, boys." you chuckled, sitting at the table your granparents put in the backyard. It was placed under a tree that gave a good shade to it, so it wasn't as hot as it would be but for you it felt like you were enveloped by the sun itself.

Hyunjin was working in the sunlight, his soft skin glistening with sweat almost making him look ethereal and unreal. His muscles were flexing constantly as he moved and lifted stuff up, the veins popping out and now visible everywhere on his arms, hands and even his neck. You were feeling very hot and bothered, feeling like you couldn't breathe properly as your legs pressed together. He glanced at you a few times and you saw the little smirk on his face.

He was provoking you on purpose, the little tease.

Two can play this game, you thought and got up, entering the house so you could find a little towel. You took that time to put on more lipgloss and adjust your dress so your cleavage was more visible.

"There." you nodded to yourself with a smirk before walking back outside and straight towards Hyunjin.

"It's hot, isn't it?" your voice sounded sweet, dripping with honey as you hovered over him where he kneeled, working on the fence. He looked up at you, covering his forehead with his hand so the sun doesn't get into his eyes. His mouth went dry instantly, your bare thighs were right in front of his eyes and your chest on display as you leaned over him.

"Hot. Yes." he managed to say.

"Let me help you with that, Jinnie." you smirked, leaning down a little more as you started gently patting at his forehead, wiping the sweat off and he just sat there breathing heavily as you kept going lower, patting his neck now, noticing how he leaned into your touch, how his eyes fluttered and his breath hitched.

"Better?" you moved away suddenly and he snapped from his trance.

"Y-Yeah."

"Thirsty?" you asked, louder so Chan hears it too.

"Yes!" Chan yelled, his back turned to you thankfully.

You smirked as Hyunjin gulped, staring after you as you turned around towards the house to make some lemonade for the boys. Hyunjin couldn't stop staring at you when they took a break, munching on some cookies your nana made and drinking the fresh lemonade. His eyes fixated on your shiny lips and he longed to taste you once again. Chan kept yapping about his wife and farm enthusiastically and you kept nodding and chuckling all the while Hyunjin didn't even hear a word that came out of Chan's mouth.

It was almost sundown when the boys were done and nana invited them to stay over for dinner, ushering them both to first wash their hands thoroughly before touching any food. The atmosphere was warm and homely, a happy feeling swelling inside your chest. You were home, where you were always supposed to be, where you belonged, with Hyunjin.

"I'll be right back." you stood up after dinner, running upstairs to fix your makeup.

Hyunjin waited for a moment before he followed you to your room. You walked out of the bathroom when he appeared on the doorway, leaning there with a fond smile on his face.

"It looks like a time capsule in here." he looked around in wonder, taking a tentative step inside.

"You haven't been up here?" you asked, eyebrows raised as he looked around, taking in all the memories you two had created together.

"No, your grandparents kept it closed. There was no need for me to be here." Hyunjin's eyes lit up when he looked at your bed. "Jinnie! You kept him!" he pointed to your teddy bear, walking in and picking it up.

"Of course I did. I kept everything."

"Even those cute diaries?" Hyunjin smirked. "Dear diary, today Jinnie and I held hands for the first time as boyfriend and girlfriend. Everyone saw us walking to school together-"

"Shut up!" you squealed, ripping the teddy away from him and smacking him with it multiple times as he laughed at your red cheeks.

"What? It was cute." he giggled, slinking away from your attack.

"It's embarrassing. Even more because you still remember what I wrote. Are you sure you haven't been up here?" you teased, putting Jinnie back on the bed and walking to your table.

"I haven't since the last time we were here together." Hyunjin was behind you suddenly, his voice low as his lips brushed against your ear. You gasped, remembering the last night you spent here with him, on top of him as he guided your hips against his slowly, wanting to make it last as long as possible so you never forget how he feels.

"Right." you turned abruptly, the back of your thighs colliding with the table as he hovered over you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of his body.

He smelled so good even after working in the sun almost all day and his skin looked like it needed to be touched, kissed, bitten. A zap of electricity ran through your body as Hyunjin leaned in even closer, his breath mingling with yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and then-

"Come to the lake with me tomorrow afternoon." his lips almost brushed against yours before he leaned away, leaving you frustrated.

"What?" you were lost momentarily.

"The lake. Let's meet there." he said and straightened up.

"Sure." you said and he smirked devilishly.

Just what was he planning now?

"Well, I gotta go home make sure Rina has her dinner and walk. See you tomorrow, doll."

With that, he left your room, his scent lingering all around you, making you want to roll in it and have him close. You couldn't wait for tomorrow.

-

The lake wasn't too far away from your house either, only a 15 minute walk full of chatter and laughter. Your bare arm brushed against Hyunjin's a few times, making you feel like your skin burned whenever it touched his. It almost felt as if everything was going back to normal, like it was before but at the same time you couldn't ignore the things that had changed about Hyunjin.

It was clear; he was no longer a boy, he was a man.

The way he carried himself and the way he spoke was more confident and masculine than that shy awkward Jinnie that tripped over his feet and his words, his cheeks constantly red in your presence. But the way he looked at you full of adoration, that had never changed.

"What made you cut your hair?" you asked as the two of you approached the lake. Hyunjin's hand instanly ran over his head as he laughed.

"It's kinda hard to work with all that hair flying everywhere. It was a nuisance, really. And... You seemed to like it a lot, you always played with it, braided it... But when you left, I figured there was no point in keeping it so I shaved it off."

"Oh." you sighed.

"You don't like it?" he asked cutely, the two of you stopping near the lake.

"No, no, I do. It looks very manly." you said, your cheeks burning up. You didn't say how you thought it accentuated all his beautiful, sharp features, his jawline and his neck that was so enticing to you.

"It does, hm?" he smirked, leaning in closer.

"Yeah." you leaned back a little, your stomach doing flips.

Hyunjin snickered and leaned away with a smirk.

"I have a dare for you." he said and you raised your eyebrow at him.

Hyunjin looked around before smirking at you again, getting into your personal space.

"I dare you to swim naked with me." he said and you almost stopped functioning.

"What? Are you crazy?" you punched his arm but it was more just a tap to him as he didn't even budge, chuckling at you as he crossed his arms over his chest. God, his arms.

"It's not like I haven't seen it all anyways." he said and you gasped.

"Oh my god." you looked away from him, your heart beating hard. "Okay, but only if we leave our underwear on."

"Alright, deal." he smirked and took his shirt off, tossing it aside.

You shrieked, turning away from him because you weren't sure if your heart could take it. Hyunjin laughed, getting rid of his pants without a care in the world.

"Don't get shy, you saw it all." he said and you took a deep breath in before looking back at him.

It's all yours, Hyunjin thought but bit his tongue.

Your eyes went wide and your lips parted in a gasp. Hyunjin was always lean and athletic, but now he was even more chiseled, his thighs were more muscular too, all the little tattoos he had hidden were now visible to you. And the worse thing was that you could see the bulge in his boxers so you averted your eyes, feeling like you might've stopped breathing for a second or two.

"Your turn." he nodded at you with a knowing smirk and you scrambled to take off your dress, feeling embarrassed for some reason. You didn't wear any flashy underwear, just regular black panties and a matching bra that only had a few lacy flowers at the top. It was enough to make Hyunjin drool.

"Beautiful." he muttered quietly, it was your body that he knew very well, the one he mapped out with caresses and kisses, your skin that he marked with his teeth, you who he held in his arms countless times.

"What did you say?" you didn't hear him, shivering a little despite the sun still being up.

"Nothing." he smiled. "Let's get in the water."

You nodded and followed him as he got into the water first, hissing at the coldness before he reached his hands towards you to help you get in.

"Is it very cold?" you asked and he chuckled.

"We swam here multiple times, you know how cold the water is. Just get in, we'll warm up." he encouraged you.

"Fine." you rolled your eyes in fake annoyance as you grabbed onto his hands, warmth filling you up from the simple touch, even though the water was almost freezing cold.

"Motherfucker!" you hissed when it touched your stomach and Hyunjin laughed, dipping in and splashing you a little.

"Don't." you warned but it was to no avail, Hyunjin had that familiar mischievous look on his face, eyes sparkly and dimples showing as he lifted his hands and splashed you harder.

"Hyune!" you shrieked and returned the favor, splashing him back.

"Ah!" he screamed out, followed by a series of giggles as he shook his head and rubbed his hands over his face. "I'll get you for that." he added, swimming towards you.

Another squeal left your lips as you dipped in and started swimming away, Hyunjin's laughter ringing behind you. How you missed the sound of that. Just as you thought you got away from him, you felt his hands grabbing at your waist as he pulled you closer to him, the water splashing loudly as you flailed your arms and screamed, giggling. His strong arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you flush against his body, skin against skin and you melted, grabbing onto his hands and resting your palms over them.

"I missed you like crazy." his lips brushed against the side of your neck. "You have no idea just how much." they pressed gently into your skin.

"I missed you too." your voice came out breathy as Hyunjin kissed the droplets of water rolling down your neck.

"Yeah? Show me how much." he turned you around so quickly that you gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders.

You wanted to say something, anything but you were already too far gone so you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his around your waist and pulled you into him. It was as if every atom of your being craved to be close to him, starved for years and now finally feeding the hunger and need you had for Hyunjin.

No matter how many time Hyunjin held you, it always made your stomach flip and it was no different now. You felt how hard his heart was beating against his chest and his eyes darkened just a little as he observed you. Your hand touched the back of his head, fingertips pressing against the soft, fuzzy buzzcut. His eyes fluttered and he leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing yours gently before his lips touched yours.

Everything came back. The first time you saw Hyunjin shyly smiling at you when you were five, the times you did your homework together after class only to end up playing instead of learning, the times you walked through the entire village, like it was all yours, the park, the lake, the street, the tree. The first kiss you shared that was timid and awkward but still sweet because it was with him, the times he held you close, loving you, deep inside you and wrapped around you, all the time he was there for you, holding your hand, wiping your tears away, making plans of the future he wanted to share with you. It was your Jinnie.

The only man you ever loved.

"Bunny, what's wrong?" you didn't even realize you were crying and Hyunjin cupped your face gently with his cold hands.

"I love you." you said, lifting the last of the weight. Hyunjin's body trembled against you.

"I love you." he whispered on your lips, kissing you harder as you pressed as close as you could to each other.

"You really don't resent me for leaving?" you asked when you parted for air.

"No, bunny, I know you just wanted to finish your studies, try your hand at a career like that. I mean, you could've done all that with me by your side even if it was a long distance relationship. You know I would support you. But, I get it. You thought you'd never come back here and that I would never leave."

"Hyunjin, I'm sorry." you cried again. "I don't deserve you."

"Shh, yes you do. Yes you do, bunny. You know me better than anyone, you were there for me always whenever I was going through a hard time."

"I wasn't there for the last six years."

"You're here now." Hyunjin kissed you again in an attempt to soothe you and distract you and it was working as you melted against his lips, soon forgetting about everything that was bothering you as the world disappeared like it always did with him.

Hyunjin's tongue collided with yours, the familiar taste of him waking up all of your senses as he gripped you harder and kissed you like his entire life depended on it.

"Bunny." he smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Jinnie." you whispered and he pecked your lips once more before swimming backwards with a smirk.

"Catch me!" Hyunjin teased, swimming faster and you let out a noise of protest, knowing you weren't gonna be able to. "Catch me or you lose your dress!"

"What?!" you shrieked as he laughed, swimming towards the shore and quickly grabbing onto the stones.

"Hyunjin, don't you dare!" you yelled when he got out of the water, almost slipping as he laughed and ran to grab all your clothes.

You swam quicker, almost getting to the shore as he snickered and bolted away with your dress and his clothes.

"Hyunjin!" you yelled, struggling to get out of the water as the sound of his laughter drifted further away.

"Bastard." you muttered when you managed to climb out of the water, shivering as the sun was about to go down. There was no way he left you here without anything, especially when the sky was darkening quickly.

"Hyunjin, this isn't funny!" you yelled, taking a few steps forward, realizing he even grabbed your sandals. You cursed under your breath, looking around when suddenly-

"Boo!" Hyunjin sneaked behind you, scaring you out of your wits.

"You bastard!" you whined and he just laughed, reaching your dress towards you. And he was already dressed, the tease.

You were about to snatch it when he lifted his arm, holding it out of your reach. Maybe some things haven't changed like the way Hyunjin would always test your patience, claiming you were so adorable when you were annoyed.

"Ugh!" you jumped up to grab it but he moved it, giggling as he looked down at you.

"Hyunjin, give me my dress." you slapped his chest as he kept laughing and moving the dress away.

"I think you look prettier like this." he looked down at your chest and you gasped, covering yourself up.

"I'm cold, Hyunjin." you said and he shook his head.

"Here." he put the dress in front of your face and you eyed him for a moment before finally grabbing it and putting it on. He gave you your shoes and you put them on quickly as the sun almost set. Your bodies were still wet and putting the clothes over them made it worse.

"I'm really cold." you said and Hyunjin pulled you into his side as he led you back towards your house.

"You should come see how I repaired and decorated the place. Meet Rina too." Hyunjin smiled, rubbing your arm in an attempt to warm you up at least a little.

"Some other day, what I need right now is a warm bath." you sighed.

"I have a bath." Hyunjin smirked.

"I'm sure you do." you lifted one eyebrow at him as he kept chuckling.

As you made your way to your house, you felt so giddy, almost as if no distance ever existed between Hyunjin and you.

"I'll see you tomorrow at the anniversary dinner." you smiled as you arrived in front of the gate.

"Mhm." he smirked, holding your hands and staring into your eyes. You stood on your tippy-toes, pouting at him and he chuckled, leaning down as he grabbed your face gently and kissed you slowly like he was savoring the moment. Your arms wrapped around his waist and you pulled him in, your bodies heating up against one another.

"Good night, Jinnie." you whispered, pecking him again.

"Night, bunny. Dream about me." Hyunjin smirked, kissing the corner of your lips.

There was no way you were even sleeping tonight.

-

"Good morning!" you practically glided into the kitchen, seeing both your grandparents there.

"Look at you, I'm guessing it went well with Hyunjin, huh?" nana smiled.

"Oh, it did." you said and your grandparents just exchanged knowing looks but decides not to pry. You were walking on cloud 9 all day and you couldn't wait to see Hyunjin again.

You took extra time to do your hair and makeup and wear a nice black dress with heels for tonight, hoping to make Hyunjin's knees buckle just as he made you feel weak. Half of the village was invited to the anniversary dinner and you were so estatic to see all the people you haven't seen for years again and catch up with them. You were pulled left and right, everyone was equally as excited to talk to you, your old neighbors and friends were glad to have you back. Hyunjin arrived a little later and your heart almost leaped out of your chest when he walked in.

"Hey there, little bunny." he smirked, leaning in closer to you as his lips brushed against your cheek.

"Hey, Jinnie." you let out a giggle as your body heated up from the simplest touch.

"You look stunning." he gently grabbed your hand and gave you the elevator eyes.

"You look handsome." you returned the compliment and he squeezed your hand.

"Yeah?" he teased and you rolled your eyes playfully, pushing him away a little.

The dinner went smoothly, everyone was talking and having fun, the food was delicious as always which is something you missed in the city, and after the biggest toast to your grandparents' love and devotion, came more toasts and the glasses were never empty. You were a lightweight so you didn't drink too much, two and a half glasses were enough for you to feel the pleasant warm buzz inside your body. Hyunjin on the other hand, kept drinking with Chan and some of his other friends, his laughter echoing in the room and his face completely red. How much did he have?, you wondered since you knew he could drink a lot more than you before becoming like this.

After dinner, some of the neighbors left home, leaving only a few of you sitting together in the patio out back. Hyunjin slid next to you on the swinging bench with a dumb smile on his face, his dimples visible and his eyes almost disappearing.

"Hey there pretty girl." he giggled, leaning his cheek on your shoulder and pulling you close to him quickly, startling you a little from the suddenness of the movement.

"Jinnie, you're drunk." you let out a laugh as he whined and nuzzled his face into your neck.

"Drunk or not, you're always pretty to me." he smiled against your skin, pressing his lips into your neck and kissing you gently.

"My grandparents are there at the table." you chuckled, trying to pry him off of you as your cheeks burned.

"Did you tell them you're staying here with me forever?" Hyunjin leaned back a little and looked up at you with a cute, hopeful expression on his face. Your heart skipped a beat as you wrapped your arms around him and he leaned against your chest.

"I'll tell them soon." you whispered and he rubbed his cheek against you.

"Mm." he sighed, closing his eyes and getting even closer to you, draping his leg over you and trapping you there with him.

"Hyunjin?" you chuckled after a few moments, caressing the back of his head but there was no answer. "Are you sleeping?" you looked down and sure enough, your Jinnie was fast asleep on you, his face smushed against your breast.

"Poor soul." Lino, one of your high school friends came up to you together with Chan.

"I think he is right where he wants to be." Chan smirked and you really wanted to kick his shin but Hyunjin's leg was blocking your movement.

"Please help me take him upstairs, I don't want him to go home like this." you asked and even though they wanted to tease the both of you, they decided to help. Hyunjin blinked confusedly when Chan shook him lightly.

"Hyunjinnie. We have to go inside." he told him.

"Noooo!" Hyunjin wailed dramatically and gripped you tighter.

"You can sleep upstairs in my bed." you said and immediately he lit up.

"I can?" Hyunjin smiled cutely and you nodded.

He started babbling about how happy he was as Lino and Chan lifted him and helped him get upstairs before they bid you good night and left with teasing smirks on their faces. Hyunjin sobered up enough to brush his teeth before he started throwing his clothes off like they were the biggest nuisance in the world. You just finished getting ready for bed, wearing your favorite nightgown when you walked back into your room and saw Hyunjin almost naked, in the process of taking his pants off. He hopped on one leg cursing and looking like a major klutz as he almost fell down while you observed him and giggled.

"Fuck this!" he whined, throwing himself on your bed and letting out an exhale.

"Need some help?" you walked closer to the bed and Hyunjin smirked at you.

"Please." he nodded.

You managed to slide his pants off, putting them aside before Hyunjin wrapped his legs around you and pulled you towards him, making you lose balance and fall on top of him.

"Jinnie!" you gasped and he chuckled, brushing your hair behind your ears.

"Being in this room with you is like you never left." he whispered and before you could even answer, he flipped you over so now your body was caged under his. Your breath got caught in your throat as you blinked up at him. "This bed, where I made you mine for the first time. Brings back so many memories." he added with a smirk, his plush lips on yours instanly. You let out a little sound of protest because you definitely did not want your first time after being back to the village to be when you're both tipsy.

"Wait, wait." you stopped him, your hands planted on his chest and you were trying to ignore how his muscles felt under your palms.

"What's wrong, bunny?" Hyunjin asked, lips ghosting over your jaw.

"I- I don't wanna do it like this, I want us both to be completely present and sober. I think we should go to sleep now." you said and Hyunjin smirked once again, his big hands on your waist, caressing you as he kissed your cheeks.

"Sleep, hm?" he teased, his hands ghosting over your body but not touching you exactly how you wanted him. Goosebumps rose on your skin as your eyes fluttered and you gripped onto his arms. "As you wish, doll." Hyunjin smirked and rolled off of you, getting comfy on your small bed. You forgot just how small it was, whenever he would secretly sleep over you were both cramped up in the bed and it usually ended with you lying on top of his body as he held you.

Hyunjin grabbed your teddy and wrapped his arms around it as he smirked at you sleepily.

"Give Jinnie to me." you demanded and he chuckled.

"No." Hyunjin shook his head. "You come here to us." he beckoned you with his arm and you gulped, hesitating for a moment and just looking at Hyunjin sprawled on your bed in nothing but his boxers. It was truly a sight for sore eyes and you couldn't get over the fact that he has gotten even hotter than he was six years ago. You let out a sigh and laid down in his arms, your head on his chest and your ear pressed against his heart that was beating erratically.

"Good night, Jinnie." you whispered after you managed to relax and melt into him, telling yourself that no matter how much time has passed and what he looked like now, he was still your Hyunjin.

You stirred in your bed, the weight and warmth of Hyunjin's body was gone and for a second you thought last night was just a dream but when you opened your eyes and looked to your right, you saw a small makeshift flower bouquet placed in Jinnie's paw and a note next to it. A smile spread on your face as you rolled over on your tummy and grabbed the note.

'Good morning, beautiful. Come to my house around lunch time.'

There was little hearts drawn at the end and Hyunjin's name scribbled down. You squealed in happiness, hugging Jinnie and pressing your face into the teddy, inhaling Hyunjin's scent that stayed everywhere on your bed and made you feel crazy.

You had an extra pep in your step when you came downstairs, trying to find your grandparents so you could tell them you're planning on staying. After searching around the kitchen and living room, you finally spotted them sitting in the backyard, talking and laughing as they enjoyed a warm cup of coffee. You smiled, observing them for a moment and remembering all the times you thought about Hyunjin and you spending the rest of your life together like them and it made your heart flutter.

"Good morning." you walked over to them and they greeted you with a smile.

"Sit with us, honey." nana said, pouring you a cup of coffee and giving you some cookies.

"Slept well?" she teased you and your face started burning immediately.

"Yes." you chuckled. "Um. I have to tell you both something."

"What is it?" grandpa asked and you took a deep breath in, explaining to them how unhappy you actually were in the city, how hard it was for you and how alone you felt. You told them about the multiple times you wanted to drop everything and come back to the village but something always stopped you from throwing away everything you worked so hard for, and then you explained how you quit your job after having to compete for a higher position but the girl you were competing with was bullying you and slept with your boss, which made her get the promotion you broke your back over just with your work. That was your last straw and you just couldn't stay there anymore.

By the time you finished explaining all of it both you and your nana were crying.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything before and made you think I was just visiting but I had no idea if you'd be willing to let me come back here for good." you sobbed.

"What are you talking about Y/n? Of course you can always come back here, this is your home. And we both missed you so much, right?" nana looked at your grandpa and he nodded in agreement. "That's right, we are so happy to have you here." he added and you felt the last stone lifting from your heart, relief washing over you that now everything has been clarified. You were back home and you were never leaving again.

-

Around lunch time, you were ready and buzzing, finally you were going to Hyunjin's house. As you approached it, Rina ran towards the fence, barking at you which caught Hyunjin's attention and he came out of the house, wearing an apron and a tanktop, making your mind dizzy. You were sure he was doing this on purpose to mess with you cause he knew very well how much power he had over you.

"Easy girl." he cooed at the dog, coming closer to the two of you and petting her black fur as she looked at him and sat, panting happily upon getting caressed. "This is Y/n, she's not dangerous." he stated as you walked into the yard and approached Rina cautiously.

"Well, maybe for my heart but that's a different thing." Hyunjin smirked and your cheeks reddened as you looked away from his mischievous smile. Rina barked at you but her tail was wagging as she approached you and started sniffing you before jumping on you and almost pushing you down.

"Oh my god!" you chuckled, petting the dog as she hopped around you happily, barking and running from you to Hyunjin and then back to you.

"She loves you." Hyunjin smiled as he observed the two of you.

"She's just the sweetest." you said.

"And very protective over me." Hyunjin smirked and you rolled your eyes playfully at him. "Let me show you around." he added and you nodded, Rina following behind the two of you. It was still the same house and garden but you could see how much work Hyunjin put in it. The flower garden was more than beautiful, the rest of the garden was full of different vegetables Hyunjin was growing and he even had his own lemon tree. You could see the entire house has been repainted, the windows changed and even the stable with horses was repaired. "How do you maintain all of this alone?" you wondered as Hyunjin took you through the stables where he had three horses and out towards the chicken coop.

"I work all day." Hyunjin shrugged. "Besides, Chan and Lino help me sometimes. And some of our other neighbors too. I mean I typically wake up around 5am and go to bed around 10pm, sometimes 11." he explained and you admired his work ethic and his persistence.

"That's amazing. You're so hardworking and resilient." you praised him and his cheeks got rosy. You knew how Hyunjin always enjoyed getting compliments, especially when he did something right and especially when they came from you.

"It's definitely hard sometimes and I wish I had someone here with whom I can split the work up with." he gave you a look and it was your turn to become red.

"Thank you for the flowers." you said as you neared the chickens.

"That was the least I could give you. Sorry for getting drunk at your grandparents' anniversary dinner." he chuckled and you shook your head.

"You're fine, don't worry." you waved your hand.

While you were talking, a curious chicken came closer and gave you a startle, making you jump a little and grab onto Hyunjin's arm as you shrieked. Hyunjin burst out into laughter and you frowned at him.

"It's not funny!"

"It so is. That's literally just a chicken, Y/n." Hyunjin kept chuckling.

"A chicken that is out to get me!" you shrieked again as the said chicken kept walking towards you menacingly. "Ah!" you screamed as the chicken sped up towards you and you jumped back, scaring half of the other chickens and making Rina bark. One wrong move and you slipped, falling down into the muddy soil, the pretty white dress you put on now completely ruined. Rina ran to you and barked, wagging her tail as the chicken gave up and went on her merry way like this was her plan the entire time. Hyunjin stared at you in shock before he started laughing so hard that his face became red and he doubled over, gripping his stomach. You really wanted the earth to open up this time and pull you down so far so you never embarrass yourself in front of Hyunjin again.

"Stop laughing at me." you pouted, your eyes welling up with tears as you were planted on your knees and palms.

"I'm sorry, but that was just too funny." Hyunjin came closer to you and you looked up at him, trying to look as mad as you could but the tears in your eyes softened Hyunjin up. "Come here." he cooed at you, grabbing your arms gently and helping you lift up.

"My dress is ruined." you couldn't help the tears that started sliding down your cheeks.

"Don't cry bunny, you can shower here and I'll give you something to wear, hm?" Hyunjin touched your cheek, tenderly wiping your tears away with his thumb. You hiccuped and nodded and he chuckled at your cuteness, grabbing your face and leaning in to peck your lips.

He led you into the house and despite feeling embarrassed and sad that your pretty dress was ruined, you still felt shocked when you walked in. The house that was like your second home here looked completely different than it did while you were growing up here. Your wide eyes wondered everywhere, not only was it repaired and repainted, the furniture was new and rearranged differently and there was art everywhere that you presumed was probably Hyunjin's. Everything was so neat and pretty, his house seemed so warm and cozy, a place you could see yourself spending time in with him.

"What do you think?" Hyunjin chewed on his lip, looking at you cutely with wide sparkly eyes.

"Hyune, it's beautiful! I love what you did with it. Somehow, it seems more spacious and like there's more light coming in." you said and he giggled.

"Yes, I wanted to make use of natural light as much as I could." he led you upstairs to his bathroom. "Here, you can shower and I'll make some lunch for us." he added and you nodded as you kept marvelling at everything he did with the space. Hyunjin found a shirt that was oversized even on him so it would definitely be like a dress for you.

"Here." he gave you the shirt and smirked. "Need help?" he added as he motioned towards the shower.

"I think I can handle it." you giggled and Hyunjin gave you a kiss before leaving to the kitchen. You took in the state of yourself in the mirror, cursing quietly when you saw just how much mud you were covered up in. You slowly peeled off the dress and then your underwear, before stepping into the shower. You managed to wash off the mud pretty quickly, replaying the entire scene in your head and feeling more and more embarrassed the more you thought of it.

After drying off and putting your underwear back on, you grabbed Hyunjin's shirt and your gut stirred at the smell of him. You put it on, the fabric soft against your smooth skin and you melted into it, hugging yourself with a smile on your face. This was not the first time you wore his clothes and you missed the feeling of it, your mind wandering back to the nights you spent in his embrace, stealing his shirt after which would make him even more crazy for you.

You finally went downstairs, feeling a little shy as you pulled the shirt down even though Hyunjin had already seen everything before and even saw you in your underwear at the lake. When you walked into the kitchen, he was whistling to the music playing in the background while stirring at the stove. He looked up at you and his lips parted, eyes darkening instantly. "Bunny..." he let out a breath and walked closer to you. Your heart started pounding in your ears as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his body, his lips on yours instantly. You kissed back, gripping at him before you felt something nudging your leg. The two of you parted and saw Rina, wagging her tail happily and pushing her head into your body.

"She wants attention." you started petting her immediately. "Reminds me of someone." you teased and Hyunjin gasped, dramatically placing his hand on his chest.

"Comparing me to a dog, huh?" he shook his head with a smile as you shrugged. "You look so good in my shirt, doll." Hyunjin bit on his lip and your face burned. You thanked him sheepishly, making him chuckle before he went back to cooking and you joined him, helping him out and feeling so domestic, and like you were right where you belonged.

The lunch was delicious and the mud mishap was soon forgotten as Hyunjin gave you a full tour of the house, ending in his room where he showed you his favorite paintings and sketchbooks that were unsurprisingly full of you. You were flipping through one of them when he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his body, his lips on your neck. You gasped, your hands shaking and making you drop the sketchbook on the floor as Hyunjin gently kissed your skin. "Jinnie..." you exhaled when his tongue darted out to lick at you before he sunk his teeth in. You tilted your head, completely melting against him as your entire body started burning up.

"I craved you so much." Hyunjin nipped at your shoulder and you squeezed his hands.

"Me too." you whispered before turning in his arms and grabbing his face as you smashed your lips against his. Nothing mattered but him in that moment, the two of you had a hunger that could only be satiated with each other. Your kiss was harsh and sloppy, your teeth clashing and hands grabbing everywhere but neither of you cared.

You felt the fire inside you burning up and spreading all the way to the tips of your fingers that grazed Hyunjin's skin. You needed him more than ever and being with him here made you realize that you had no idea how you managed to live all these years without him.

"Bunny, I can't... I want to worship you and take my time with you so badly, I want to kiss every inch of your skin and make love to you but I can't... I need to have you right now." he panted hard as he grabbed at your hips, leading you to the bed.

"Take me Hyunjin, please. I need you so much." you gripped his arms and Hyunjin let out a low growl before pushing you down onto the bed. It was as if he had no idea what to do first, staring at you sprawled under him for a moment before he put his hands on your thighs, squeezing the flesh.

Your legs parted, the shirt riding up and revealing the red lace panties you wore. "Damn doll, are you trying to kill me?"

"Maybe." you giggled and Hyunjin smirked at you before spreading your legs more and lowering his middle on top of yours. You gasped a little when you felt his length pressing and rubbing against you. He leaned in closer to your face, his arms caging you in.

"Can you feel what you do to me, bunny?" he moaned, rolling his hips against yours. You knew he wanted to tease you but his mind was far too gone for that. Hyunjin has waited for years for you to come back and to be in his arms, for him to taste you, feel you, kiss you, be inside you.

"Hyune... Please..." you were no better, your entire body was yearning for him, every fiber of your being screamed his name. Hyunjin couldn't wait, he leaned back and took off his shirt so you did the same, revealing that you didn't wear a bra.

"Naughty bunny." Hyunjin smirked, giving you a look and you grabbed his wrists gently, placing his palms on your chest. Hyunjin's eyes fluttered as he squeezed, thumbs swiping on your sensitive nipples. He cursed under his breath as he kept massaging your breasts and rubbing against you. You lifted your hips up to meet his, you needed to feel more of him. Your fingers hooked in his pants and you tugged so he lifted up a little to take them off. Hyunjin leaned down to kiss you, his tongue dominating yours as he slid your panties off, then his boxers before placing his hands on your thighs again and caressing them. His lips traveled down your neck to your collarbone then to your breasts, kissing and nipping at the flesh before he wrapped them against your nipple, sucking harshly as his fingertips pressed on your clit. A loud moan slipped your lips as you gripped his shoulders.

"Hyunjin." you moaned desperately, your body arching into him and he shushed you, his fingers sliding through your wet folds, separating them before he slowly pushed his finger in. It was a welcomed intrusion after not being with anyone for years, you haven't even dated after going to the city, you still felt like you belonged to Hyunjin and you thought about him every day so even the thought of letting someone else touch you was too much for you.

Hyunjin slowly pumped his finger inside you, feeling how wet you were getting before adding another finger, scissoring you open for him. He noticed you seemed deep in thought so he slowed down and leaned in to look at you.

"Is something wrong, doll?" he asked and you snapped out of your thoughts.

"Have you been with anyone since I left?" you asked in a small voice, blinking at him and Hyunjin let out a chuckle.

"No, I waited for you." he whispered, kissing you gently and you clenched around him. "You like that, bunny? Like that I'm only yours?" he bit on your lip and looked at you teasingly as he continued fingering you.

"Yes, yes Hyunjin!" you moaned when he hit that special spot inside you and his eyes darkened.

"What about you, doll? Did you let someone else touch what's only mine, hm?" he asked, fucking you faster.

"N-no. Only you, Hyunjin. I'm only yours." you moaned and he growled lowly again, getting more worked up as he wrapped his hand around his length and pumped it a few times.

"You never stopped being mine, little bunny. And I never stopped being yours." he moaned, pulling his fingers out before licking at them. Your heart was beating hard at the sight and the words that he said. It was true, you were his from the moment you first saw him until the end of time.

"Missed your taste." he moaned before grabbing his cock and pressing it against your clit. "I don't have any condoms." he added and you moaned as he ran his hard tip on your folds.

"T-that was never a problem with us." you bit on your lip and Hyunjin moaned as he started slowly pushing inside you, filling you up perfectly and stretching you out just for him. You whimpered, your legs opening more as you welcomed him inside you, where he belonged. Hyunjin took a moment to gather himself when he bottomed out, his eyes fluttering shut as you squeezed around him.

"God, bunny. I missed this pussy so much." you moaned at the dirty way he spoke, clenching even harder around him. "I won't last long."

You whimpered as he started moving, his muscles contracting with each movement as his arms caged you. You couldn't stop admiring him on top of you; the buzzcut worked so well with the new, more manly look, his eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes dark as he bit on his lip, his cheeks flushed and a thin sheen of sweat forming on his skin, the veins portruding. He looked so beautiful like that, all lost in you as he moaned quietly. Your hands came up to touch the back of his neck and his shoulders, so smooth and firm and Hyunjin gripped your hips.

"Fuck, I can't!" he whined loudly before he started snapping his hips into you. Both of you were a moaning, desperate mess, missing each other for so long. Hyunjin's hands had a bruising grip on your hips, your nails dug into his flesh as you wrapped your legs around him and pressed your heels into his ass, making him go deeper. He moaned loudly, fucking you harder, his cock splitting you apart deliciously.

"I'm g-gonna cum!" he whined almost as if he was disappointed in himself for finishing so quickly but you couldn't really blame him because you were on the verge yourself.

"Cum inside me, Jinnie!" you moaned and his eyes went wide for a moment before he gripped you harder.

"Are you sure?" he panted and you nodded quickly, your nails leaving red angry marks on his skin.

"Yes please Hyune, I need to feel you." you moaned and he whimpered, fucking you harder and chasing his high and your legs started trembling around him. He knew you were close by your moans and the way your body reacted, the way your pussy clenched around him so hard like you wanted him inside you forever.

"Let go for me, doll." he encouraged you and you moaned, the coil snapping as you came around him, making him even more wet.

Hyunjin cursed and moaned loudly, his hips stuttering before he exploded, filling you up with his warm cum and riding his high as you held onto him. He plopped down on top of you as both of you tried to catch your breath.

"Y/n. My bunny, my love." Hyunjin smiled, kissing you gently as you held each other.

"Jinnie. I love you so much." you whispered against his lips and felt him twitch inside you.

"I love you more than anything, doll." he said before kissing you again, his tongue slowly massaging yours and making your body burn all over again. His hands were on your breasts, massaging and squeezing, gently pinching and pulling on your nipples as he kept stealing your breath. You felt him slowly becoming harder inside you and you clenched, your pussy sore but welcoming. You touched his back and caressed his head and neck, making him whimper against you. It didn't take long for him to become fully hard again.

"I'm gonna make love to you." he whispered, kissing your lips again then grabbing your hand and kissing it before pinning it down on the bed, next to your head, his other hand on your waist.

"Hyunjin." you moaned out his name as he started to slowly move inside you, the drag of his cock against your walls was driving you crazy. Your eyes fluttered shut and you let yourself melt into the moment, the space filling up with sounds of your bodies and your moans as you both got lost in loving each other. Your lips brushed against his jaw and neck, kissing him and gently licking at his skin, the droplets of sweat that were sliding down his neck. He threw his head back when you sunk your teeth into his skin, marking him as yours. Hyunjin's hips stuttered and he fucked you a little harder and deeper but still slowly.

Your eyes fluttered open and met with his, full of love and lust.

"I wanna be like this with you forever." he moaned and you squeezed him with your legs, your nails digging into his shoulders again.

"Me too, Hyune, I wanna be with you forever." you breathed out.

He sped up a little, his hands roaming all over your body, his sweat dripping down onto your skin, making everything hot and wet.

"Ah!" you whimpered when he hit the spot. "You feel perfect inside me."

Hyunjin groaned at the praise, his hips snapping into yours harder as his fingers found your sensitive clit, moving in circles and trying to bring you to your high. His lips were on your skin again, kissing, licking and nipping before he grabbed your breast with his free hand and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking hard and making your body tremble against him. The fact that you were even more wet and slippery than before because he had already came inside you drove you insane and you snapped, cumming around him and squeezing him again. Hyunjin's eyes rolled back and all he could do was moan your name as he sped up, your hips and pussy burning at the overstimulation and movement before he released inside you, filling you up again.

"Fuck." this time he pulled out of you, watching as his cum oozed out of your pussy. "Wow." he gasped a little, reaching out to touch your folds and you whimpered.

"Are you- are you on the pill?" Hyunjin asked as he retracted his hand and you started laughing when you realized he hadn't even asked before and that you didn't even think about it.

"No, I wasn't sleeping with anyone so I didn't need them." you said and Hyunjin's face went red.

"It's okay." you beckoned him closer with your hand and he crawled to you instanly, laying on top of you and propping himself up with his elbows as he looked at you softly, caressing your head and playing with your hair. "We talked about having kids..."

Hyunjin let out a chuckle before pecking your lips.

"We did but now that you're back I wanted to enjoy you just a little more. Have you all to myself, my little bunny. And I know it might be cliche but I wanted us to get married first." he said and your heart fluttered.

"You never stopped thinking about that?" you asked, caressing his back.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to. Did you?"

"I always thought that if I hadn't left we would've already been married and had at least one baby." you confessed and Hyunjin's body trembled as he pressed himself harder against you.

"There's nothing more I want than to have everything with you, my love." he said, kissing you gently and lovingly.

"Me too." you gasped for air between kisses.

"Are you ready for round three then?" he smirked and you felt his length twitching against your thigh.

"Oh wow." you laughed and Hyunjin chuckled.

"What can I say, I missed you." he kissed your jaw again. "I just wanna be inside you."

"Please Hyunjin." you whimpered, feeling aroused for him easily.

"Don't worry bunny, I got you. All mine tonight." he moaned, pushing into your sore pussy but it felt so good to you. "Gotta make sure it sticks." Hyunjin added with a smirk and you gasped, your eyes rolling back as he filled you up.

You spent almost the entire night in each other's embrace, making love or just cuddling and talking, but both of you felt so insatiable that you just couldn't stop until early morning hours.

"This is about the time I usually wake up." Hyunjin said as he blinked sleepily, rubbing his cheek against your breast as you held him in your arms. You looked out at the dark sky, giggling a little.

"We should get some sleep." you said and Hyunjin whined, squeezing your other breast with his hand.

"I can't... I need to feed the horses... And take Rina out for a walk and..." his voice got more and more quiet before you realized he was fast asleep. A smile spread on your lips as you relaxed and let yourself fall asleep too.

You woke up a few hours later, the sun blazing through the curtains and you groaned, covering your face. Your entire body was sore, last night you had used some muscles that were dormant for years, but the most sore place was between your legs. When you remembered everything you did with Hyunjin last night and how many times he had moaned into your ear about fucking a baby into you, your mind went hazy and you felt that wave of hotness rise inside you.

You noticed you were alone in the bed, tangled in his sheets and the smell of him and you rolled over to his side after noticing another little bouquet of flowers. You smiled to yourself and willed yourself to get up and take a shower even though your legs were in pain too.

By the time you came down, Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen but you found some coffee and toast, deciding to make yourself some breakfast. You sat at the counter and ate while listening to some music. Hyunjin suddenly walked in from the back door.

"Oh bunny! Good morning." he smirked as he came closer to you and you could see the sweat on his body glistening, making you feel aroused instantly at the sight and smell of him.

"Morning." your voice came out breathy as he wrapped his arm around you and kissed you.

"I was just working out back in the shed." he started and Rina ran in barking and jumping at you happily. You chuckled and cooed at her as you started petting her head. "She helped out." Hyunjin added and you giggled.

"I'm sure she did."

"Would you like to go horse riding with me today?" he asked and you let out a laugh.

"I mean, I'd love to but you tired me out last night." you said sheepishly and he cackled, making you smack his arm a few times which made Rina bark.

"Careful, you can't hit me in front of Rina." he had a smug smile on his face and you rolled your eyes, shoving him away playfully. "Come on, we used to go all the time. I missed doing everything with you, doll."

"Fine, but I'm going home first to change and say hello to my grandparents." you pointed your finger at him and he grabbed your wrist, gently kissing your fingertip before he pressed your hand on his chest.

"Come back to me soon, doll."

-

It didn't take long for you to get ready and skip back to Hyunjin's house, especially after missing him for so many years; you felt like you needed to make up for all the lost time. Hyunjin was waiting for you in the stable, preparing the horses for the ride. As soon as you walked in, he smiled at you, waving at you to come closer. Hyunjin gave you the elevator eyes, you were dressed and ready for the activity you were going to share with him this afternoon.

"God, you look so cute my bunny." he put his hands behind his back and leaned in to kiss you, making you giggle against his lips.

"You're cute." you poked his cheek and he chuckled.

"I am?" he gave you a cute face, making his dimples visible as he smiled and his eyes disappeared, turning into little slits. For emphasis he put his palms around his face as if he was presenting his cuteness to you and you could not believe that this was the same man who had you shaking under him last night.

"The cutest." you giggled and he seemed satisfied with the answer, giving you another sweet kiss.

"So, this beauty over here is Aurora." Hyunjin took your hand in his and walked closer to the horse. It let out a snorting sound, making you jolt a little and Hyunjin chuckled.

"Don't tell me you forgot how to ride." he smirked at you with a pointed look and you smacked his arm as he giggled, knowing you would react like that. Your cheeks went red despite last night and despite everything else you shared with him.

"You better be quiet." you threatened him and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"You weren't saying that last night."

"Hyunjin. Please. The horses don't need to listen to this." you whispered the last sentence, giving Aurora a few gentle pets.

Hyunjin laughed before nodding. "Alright, well she is yours for today. And I'm taking Midnight." he pointed to a black horse and you nodded, feeling excited because you missed things like this in the city, spending time in nature even though insects frightened you.

The two of you made your way out with your horses, Hyunjin helping you get up on Aurora and then patting your butt affectionately as you sat down. Your cheeks became rosy as he smirked at you and climbed up on Midnight. He looked so hot in that moment that you were already getting worked up despite still being sore.

You made your way towards the fields, the sun shining on you as you rode your horses and enjoyed the fresh air and the breeze. Everything that was bothering you before you came here was left in the dust your horses lifted as they ran, the past was put behind you and you could clearly see the path ahead.

The two of you made it to one of the pretty fields, letting the horses rest as you tied them aside and Hyunjin brought a blanket for the two of you to sit on. Quietly, you enjoyed the beautiful day together as you closed your eyes and let the sun's warmth kiss you while Hyunjin kept his eyes fixed on you.

"I forgot just how peaceful it is here." you sighed before looking at Hyunjin.

"But you spent most of your life here, more than in the city. You know this place like the back of your hand." his head tilted and you shrugged.

"Maybe it didn't take long for me to get used to the city."

"Then it won't be long for you to get used to being back here." he said and bit on his lip. "Come here bunny." he tapped his thigh and you chuckled, your face becoming red. "Come sit in my lap, I need you close to me." Hyunjin added and you shook your head lightly before coming closer to him and sitting in his lap. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist as he leaned in and kissed you sweetly, before gently swiping his tongue on your lower lip. You parted your lips and he kissed you sensually, like he was trying to explore every part of you and remember your taste forever.

Hyunjin leaned back suddenly and gave you a serious look as he held your hips.

"Y/n, you really are the most important person in my life. You are my best friend and my only lover. And I want you to stay here with me forever and for us to build a life together but only if you want that. I don't want you to feel like I forced you to be here in the village and made you throw away your uni degree and the career you worked so hard for. I need to know that you are absolutely sure you want this, cause I don't want you to resent me one day." Hyunjin exhaled shakily and you smiled, grabbing his face and smushing his cute cheeks.

"You're the most important person in my life too. And even without knowing you still loved me and wanted to be with me I came back here with the plan to stay. There is nothing for me there, that career was a disappointment, almost a waste of time that I could've been spending here with you. Besides, I am still young and there is time to change careers. This is my decision to stay here and if I have you too, then that's just added happiness. I would never resent you Hyunjin, because I want to build a life with you too, I want us to grow old together like my grandparents. I always imagined us like that."

"Oh bunny, you have no idea how happy that makes me." Hyunjin gave you the sweetest smile before crashing his lips against yours. The kiss was passionate and full of love, all bursting around the two of you. He kissed your neck before flipping you over and you gasped under him.

"Beloved, it's the middle of the day, other people come here. A-and the horses are right there." you nodded towards the animals who seemed interested only in the grass.

"Doll, let me just have a taste of you, please?" Hyunjin rubbed your hips, giving you the cutest pout and puppy eyes and you were weak for him. It never took too long for you to lose your panties around him which was what happened as soon as you said yes. He took off your pants and underwear, immediately diving in between your legs as he held them open, gripping at your thighs.

"My sweet bunny." Hyunjin kissed and nipped on your thighs, leaving bite marks in his wake all the way up to your core.

"Mm." he moaned the moment his plump lips touched your folds. "Baby." he whined and flatened his tongue against you, giving you a few languid licks, enjoying the taste of you before the tip of his tongue started flicking your clit. You whimpered quietly as your legs trembled, still aware that you were outside and anyone could see you.

Hyunjin however, didn't care. He was moaning into your pussy desperately as soon as he pushed his tongue in, eating you out like you were the sweetest treat ever. His nose brushed against your clit perfectly as he moved and you were still so sensitive from last night so it didn't take long for you to release your essence all over his lips and tongue as you gripped onto the blanket.

"Bunny, you taste so sweet." he whined, licking around his lips. You looked around, chuckling and quickly pulling your pants up, cringing a little at the wetness.

"Let me make you feel good too, Jinnie." you were now closer to him, your hands on his thighs.

"You don't have to do it right now, we can go back to my house and-"

"Hyune... You can't ride back with this." you smirked, cupping his bulge through his pants and he whined instanly, lifting up into your hand and grinding against it.

"Yeah, you're right." Hyunjin moaned as you kissed his jaw and neck while working to unbutton his pants and slide them down with his boxers, at least enough to pull his cock out. You moaned at the sight of him and you were so eager to have him in your mouth again after not tasting him for so long. You leaned down, gathering spit before you spit on his cock and made him gasp, lifting his hips up to you again. You gave him a few pumps as you smirked at him and Hyunjin was already falling apart. He was equally as weak for you as you were for him.

You swirled your tongue around his head, dipping it into his slit and he shook against you, his hips lifting up and his hand tangling in your hair.

"More, please more bunny." he begged desperately and you moaned around him as you slid down, taking more of his length in.

"Just like that baby, keep going." he encouraged you as you tried to relax your throat and breathe through your nose. Hyunjin whimpered when you gripped the base of his cock, bobbing your head up and down. He gripped your hair, his moans becoming high pitched so you looked up and almost came in your panties at the sight. He was completely lost in the pleasure you were giving him, his head thrown back, his neck on full display with his Adam's apple bobbing up and down every time he gulped and his veins visible. Your eyes fluttered as you moaned around him and fondled his balls with your other hand, making his hips jerk up into you which made you gag a little.

"Fuck. Taking me so well, bunny." he growled, fucking up into you slowly as he gripped your hair harder. "G-gonna cum."

"Mm." you moaned, massaging his balls and sucking him like your life depended on it as he kept fucking up into you.

"Ah! Love seeing those pretty lips around me!" Hyunjin whined loudly, snapping his hips a little harder against you before you felt him twitch and release inside you. You swallowed every last drop he gave you, overstimulating him until he was almost pushing you away.

"Fuck, bunny. You're gonna be the death of me." he said as you lifted up and wiped your lips.

"That good, hm?" you teased him with a smirk and he smirked back at you as he got dressed.

"Well, you seem to love my cum so I'm just giving you what you love, you know, thinking of your happiness." he teased and you smacked his arm, making him laugh because he loved provoking you.

"Shut up." you muttered in embarrassment and he giggled before pouting at you and coming closer to you. He gently took your chin in his hand and made you look at him.

"I love you." he said.

"I love you too." you smiled and kissed him, tasting your essence on his tongue.

"Wanna ride a little more then go back to my house?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I'd love to."

-

Currently, you were sitting in Hyunjin's very big bath, waiting for him to join you as you soaped up your arms with the bubbles, playing around with them.

"Here I am!" he ran in, quickly closing the door behind him. "Had to feed Rina plus she felt neglected and deprived of my love." he added, stripping his clothes and throwing them in the hamper haphazardly.

"You trying to make me feel guilty?" you asked, blowing a bubble at him and he giggled.

"No doll, you know you're always my number one." he smirked, throwing his underwear aside and you looked away in embarrassment.

He chuckled at you and got in, sitting between your legs and you squealed as he made the water splash around you.

"Will you help me wash my back?" he looked at you sideways with a little pout and you chuckled.

"Of course, beloved." you smiled as you took a clean cloth and made it wet before you started gently washing his back. Hyunjin closed his eyes and let out a long sigh of relaxation. You enjoyed the quiet moment, gently rubbing his skin before gliding over it with your other hand, loving the feeling of his wet and soft skin against yours. You leaned in and kissed his shoulders, your breasts pressing against him and nipples grazing him. Hyunjin let out a shaky breath as you wrapped your arms around him and kept kissing his upper back and the back of his neck, catching the droplets of water with your lips.

"I'm so happy." he said and you smiled against him as he caressed your hands. "I was lonely without you, my bunny. I drowned that in work but in moments like this, when it's quiet, and especially late at night I imagined you next to me, wished you were here. And now you are."

"I'm sorry, Jinnie. I'll never leave you again." you said, brushing your lips against his neck.

"I know." he shivered and then leaned back into you as you held him and caressed his chest and stomach, your hand coming in contact with his cock that was hard again.

"Jinnie." you giggled in delight.

"I can't help it when you're touching me." he whined and you kept giggling as you wrapped your hand around him and gave him a few teasing tugs before you released him completely, making him groan.

"Love, you promised we'd go stargazing tonight." you teased.

"The stars will be there tomorrow." he smirked, turning around in the bath and making the water splash around again.

"So will we." you chuckled, running your finger on his defined jaw.

"Mm." he smirked, eyes already hooded as he leaned in and captured your lips in his. You gave in instantly, craving him as much as he craved you.

"I want to go stargazing." you said when the two of you parted for air and Hyunjin chuckled, shaking his head.

"Whatever my bunny wants. Give me a few moments to try and calm down, hm?" he said, kissing your jaw before he got up, getting out of the bath and making his way to the shower. "Join me." he reached his hand towards you and you grabbed it, getting out of the bath with his help.

The moment you shared in the shower was sweet and gentle as you helped each other wash off, playing around with the water.

"So, you like how I did the house?" Hyunjin asked as you dried off.

"I love it so much. It's artsy but cozy and warm. It still has that vintage vibe, you just made it better." you told him and he blushed, smiling cutely at you.

"I decorated it with the thought of you." he confessed, suddenly looking shy and reminding you of that little boy that almost hid behind his mother the first time he laid eyes on you.

"Hyunjin." your eyes watered instantly and you started crying.

"Bunny, don't cry." Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you, shushing you and pulling you into his chest as he caressed your head.

"I'm sorry." you whimpered and he chuckled at your cute pouty face as he looked down at you.

"Move in with me. There's no need to wait." he kissed your head and you squeezed him tighter.

"Packing tomorrow." you looked up at him with a smile and he chuckled, leaning down to kiss you as he wiped your tears away.

-

It was a beautiful, clear and quiet night, just what you needed for one of your favorite activities. Stargazing was a little ritual you did together even before you started dating, when you were just friends. You'd lay near your tree and look up at the stars wondering what's in store for you and Hyunjin, and he'd be nervously gathering courage to confess to you and kiss you only to back out every time you smiled at him.

After becoming a couple, you'd spend warm evenings loving each other under the blanket of stars, hidden by the grass and flowers around you. You'd look up at the stars then and thank them.

Hyunjin brought a blanket this time like always and you laid next to each other, your bare arms touching.

"Jinnie, can I ask you something?" you turned to look at him.

"Anything." he met your eyes.

"I noticed this when I got here the first day but why did you carve only your name in the tree, under ours?"

His eyes softened before he sat up and looked at the tree.

"For when you come back, so you can add your name and we can make a new start together." he smiled and your eyes watered.

"Jinnie." you whined, sitting up and resting your forehead on his shoulder. "You're too sweet."

"Here." he gave you his pocket knife and motioned at the tree. "You can add your name now."

Hyunjin helped you out and the two of you admired your work, a new carving of your names signifying a new phase of your relationship, where both of you have grown and matured. You turned towars him, grabbing his face and smashing your lips into his as you kissed him passionately. Hyunjin returned the kiss enthusiastically, pulling you in his lap. Your hips started grinding against him instantly and he smirked into the kiss.

"Is my bunny needy for me?" Hyunjin leaned back to look at you, caressing your face and putting your hair behind your ear.

"Mm, always." you moaned quietly as his other hand grabbed at your ass, squeezing and giving you a light smack.

Hyunjin chuckled at the state of you, already unraveling and he hasn't even done anything. You bit on your lip and gripped his shoulders as you started dragging your core against his. Hyunjin's head fell back as he gripped your hips and helped you move against him, pressing you down and making you feel his growing bulge.

"What you do to me, doll." he almost growled, gripping you harder and moving his hips up into yours.

"Hyunjin." you moaned his name, your hands sliding down his chest to his abs and then to the button on his jeans as you worked to open it. He smirked into the kiss again, letting you struggle for a moment before he leaned away from your lips and helped you take off his pants. His hands slid under your dress, up until he touched your panties.

"So wet, my bunny." he looked at you lustfully, his lips parting as he touched you clit and played with it, sliding his fingers down to your folds and feeling the wetness even through the fabric.

"I need you." you whined and he chuckled.

"I need you too, bunny." he whispered and you stood up to slide your panties off as Hyunjin watched you with hazy eyes. He slid his pants and underwear down, pulling you down into his lap again. Your wet pussy pressed against his hard cock and both of you moaned as you grinded on him, getting him wet with your juices.

"Ah, doll!" Hyunjin whined, pushing his hips up into you and you lifted just a little to grab his cock and push it inside you. He groaned as you sat down on him slowly, feeling every inch of him stretching your still sore pussy.

"You okay, bunny?" Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your waist as you let out a hiss.

"Y-yes, perfect." you whimpered, gripping at his shoulders as you started circling your hips on top of him. "Oh my god." you groaned, feeling his tip brushing against something delicious deep inside you.

"Good, baby?" Hyunjin smirked, holding your hips but you knew he was close to losing control.

"Mm yes." you shut your eyes tightly as you started to bounce on him slowly and Hyunjin let out a loud moan.

"Ah, bunny! You feel so good. So perfect for me. I wanna stay inside you forever."

You clenched hard at his words, fucking on his length faster, your hips slapping against his. Hyunjin's hand gripped your dress and pushed it up before he grabbed your ass, giving it a few smacks and making you whimper and squeeze around his cock again.

"Please, Hyune, I need more, please!" you whimpered, fucking on him as hard as you could even though your thighs started burning. Hyunjin looked at you, your flushed face and your tits bouncing with your movement, his cock disappearing completely inside you. You were driving him insane.

"You want some help bunny?" he asked, gripping your hips.

"Yes, please!" you whined and Hyunjin smirked before he started snapping his hips up into you.

Both of you were a desperate mess of moans and curses, fucking into each other as if you hadn't been together all night yesterday.

"Gonna get you pregnant, my bunny. Want you to be mine forever." Hyunjin growled as you fell apart on top of him, exploding all over his cock.

"Please, Hyune, want to have your baby." you mumbled, your entire body shaking on top of him and Hyunjin growled, his eyes rolling back as he came, ropes of warm cum filling you up, your pussy milking him dry.

You held each other for a moment, trying to gather your senses as you breathed hard. Hyunjin leaned back and gave you a cute smile.

"I mean it, you know. I really want a little one running around our house. A baby that we made out of love." Hyunjin said, holding your face in his palms.

"Me too, I want it so much." your voice was shaky as you leaned in and kissed him, not missing the detail where he called his house yours.

"After last night and today it would be a surprise if you weren't already pregnant." he smiled, brushing his lips against yours.

You chuckled as your face burned. "I hope so."

Hyunjin smiled, kissing you until you became breathless. The two of you cleaned up and got dressed, lying down in each other's arms so you could actually do what you came to do here - watch the stars.

Once again, you thanked them for leading you back to your Hyunjin.

Six months later

You were drinking your morning tea, staring out the window as your free hand landed on your tummy and you let out a sigh of happiness. Hyunjin came from upstairs, all fresh from a shower and noticed you smiling to yourself, the sun illuminating your features.

"How are my girls?" Hyunjin asked as he wrapped his arms around you, his hands on your baby bump, caressing you gently as he kissed you neck and inhaled your sweet scent.

"Good actually. The tea is helping with nausea." you turned your head a little to look at his face and his eyes were filled with so much love and happiness that it made you shiver, your heart fluttering.

"What?" you chuckled as he kept looking at you with a big smile on his face.

"Have I told you how breathtaking you are, my doll?" he exhaled, nuzzling into you.

"Only every day." you giggled.

"And I will continue doing so for the rest of my life." Hyunjin kissed your cheek and you turned in his arms to give him a proper kiss, enjoying the feeling of his plump lips against yours. Your hands flew to his hair that was now black and growing out and you ran your fingers through the soft tufts.

"I have something for you." he said when the two of you broke apart.

"What is it?" you tilted your head and Hyunjin rounded the couch where Rina was cuddled up, making her raise her head and look at him. He stood in front of the stereo and pressed a few buttons before the familiar melody of Photograph started playing.

"Hyun..." your eyes watered and he skipped towards you, reaching his hand to you. You grabbed it and he pulled you into him, dancing with you, softly swaying you side to side.

"This has always been our song. The one we danced to at prom too. And now we can have our first dance at our wedding to this song as well."

"H-Hyunjin." your lips trembled as happy tears spilled from your eyes.

"I wanted to wait for a perfect moment, have this elaborate dinner and speech but I think this is the perfect moment. You and me in our house with our baby on the way and Rina with us. So I have something to ask you, bunny." Hyunjin got on one knee in front of you, taking out a little box from the pocket of his sweats and opening it up to reveal a beatiful ring.

You gasped, your heart beating fast as more tears spilled from your eyes. You knew he was going to propose to you but nothing prepared you for the tornado of feelings that were swirling inside you.

"Y/n, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?"

"Yes!" you yelled almost before he ended the sentence and he chuckled happily, sliding the ring on your finger.

"I love you so much, Jinnie." you cried as he stood up and wrapped his arms around you.

"I love you more than anything, my little bunny." he kissed you, the tears of happiness sliding down his cheeks too.

"I promised you forever, didn't I?"

And there was no other way you wanted to spend forever than to be by Hyunjin's side.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @hwangjoanna @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @minniesverse @skzdreamer13 @0325ale @j-ji-jia @shannthewriter @mhluvie @my-neurodivergent-world @hyyunjinnn @spookybuttsstuff-blog @pancake-freckle @felixsbrowniesarmystayengene @minhooofr

[m0ri-apeuda]

N O   S A I N T   I N K

Tattoo Artist!Han Jisung x Reader | blah blah blah

🔞synopsis: Tattoo Artist AU. You just wanted a tattoo. What you got was a cocky artist with a praise kink, a filthy mouth, and the ability to make you cum so hard you forget your name. What starts as innocent skin-on-skin becomes texts at 3AM, breathless calls, panties on the floor, and getting ruined over a tattoo chair by a man who calls his dick “emotionally supportive.”

💌a/n: HELLO DEMONS. welcome back to my sin bin. and YES. i spun the wheel of filth™ again because i have too many prompts, too many requests, too many ideas and i am ONE feral braincell away from combusting. this week’s winner of the roulette: jisung x reader, tattoo shop edition. hence why this was posted late — i had no idea what to write and then accidentally birthed a full plotline, two orgasms, a man with separation anxiety, and the best dick of your fictional life. oops 😇 p.s. reblog this or i will haunt your mirrors at 3AM whispering “dumb little slut” in han’s voice. p.p.s. if you message me your fave skz member, i might drop you a mini filthy tattoo artist!AU ficlet just for them. no promises. only threats. p.p.p.s. light a candle. hydrate. send this to a friend

⚠️ warnings: 18+ | MINORS DNI | EXTREMELY NSFW | Oral (f. receiving) — graphic, intense, life-altering | Pussy eating obsession (Han is a munch) | Filthy, unrelenting dirty talk — degradation + praise mix (chaos edition) | “Good girl,” “slut,” “mine,” “cum for me” energy | Clit stimulation + g-spot pressure = brain cell deletion | Multiple orgasms (yes. multiple.) | Fingering, choking, possessive hand-gripping

📌 Please read responsibly. Hydrate. Stretch.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » MOVE — Taemin « 0:58 ─〇───── 3:32 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Late afternoon, Seoul.

The sky is bruising purple with evening haze. You’re standing outside a tattoo parlour in a tucked-away alley—NO SAINT INK—recommended by a friend who said, “Go there. Ask for Han.”

You’re nervous. Not just because it’s your first tattoo—but because your stomach won’t stop twisting with that type of anticipation. The kind you feel when you know something irreversible is about to happen.

The parlour looks nothing like the industrial, hyper-masculine shops you've passed before. It’s dark, yes—but with soft underlighting. Neon signs buzz low in the windows, one glowing "SINNER'S HANDS" in deep red. Another in cursive:

“we only leave beautiful scars.”

You push the door open, bell jingling. It smells like antiseptic and incense. Lo-fi hip hop pulses from hidden speakers. The walls are matte black, scattered with flash art—some delicate, some obscene. A few erotic, one absolutely feral. You step toward the desk—

And then you see him.

Han Jisung.

Slouched in a leather chair behind the counter, legs spread wide, one hand holding a sketchpad, the other spinning a tattoo gun idly between his fingers like a toy.

Dark, slightly wavy hair. A few strands falling into his eyes. Rings on nearly every finger. One silver bar in his eyebrow. Another glinting on his lip.

He's wearing a sleeveless hoodie, arms covered in ink—some intricate, some scrawled like afterthoughts. His forearms flex as he shifts, glancing up at you lazily, and then—

Freeze.

He smirks. Not the kind of smirk you’re used to. This one slides slow across his face like silk on skin—cocky, amused, interested. He sets the sketchbook down and stands, sauntering over.

“You lost, angel?”

His voice is warm gravel. A little teasing. He’s already clocked you as a first-timer.

You swallow. “No. Um… I think I have an appointment? For 5PM?”

He leans against the counter, gloved hand flipping through the schedule.

“Name?”

You give it. He taps the page. “First ink?” he asks, gaze flicking over you.

You nod.

His eyes drag down your form and back up again—like he’s marking you before the needle ever touches you. “Cute.”

A pause.

“Alright. You’re with me.”

The moment he leads you past the curtain, everything quiets. Not literally—there’s still the low thrum of lo-fi beats playing through overhead speakers, and you can hear the soft buzz of a machine in the next booth—but something in the air shifts. You’ve stepped into his space now.

The room is dim, intentionally so. Not cold or sterile, but intimate. The walls are painted a charcoal grey, with scattered framed sketches and flash art displayed like gallery pieces. A small desk against the back wall is cluttered with ink bottles, gloves, stencils, and scribbled notes on napkins. There’s a chair in the center—sleek black leather, mechanical levers gleaming faintly under the spotlight aimed above it. It's positioned deliberately beneath a halo of warm light, like a stage for sin.

Han gestures for you to sit.

You do, heart already hammering harder than you'd like to admit. Your hands grip the armrests automatically, more out of nerves than necessity.

He sanitizes his hands in silence, then slips on a pair of black nitrile gloves with practiced ease. The snap of the first one makes you flinch. He notices.

A flick of his mouth—half amusement, half something darker.

“So. You still sure about it?” he asks, voice calm but low, like smoke over velvet.

You nod, holding out the reference image you brought—a small, simple design. Meaningful. Something you’ve thought about for months. A delicate poppy, petals slightly unfurled…But at the base of the flower, instead of a regular stem, it grows from the open mouth of a tiny anatomical heart.

Han doesn’t look at the paper right away. His eyes stay on you for just a moment longer than they should. Then he takes it gently, fingers brushing yours through the gloves.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, gaze flicking from the paper to your face. “Subtle. Clean lines… this’ll look good on you.”

You try to smile, but your throat feels tight. “Thanks.”

“Where do you want it?”

You hesitate. Then, softly: “Ribcage.”

That earns you an arched brow and the barest flicker of a smirk.

“Shy spot. I like that,” he says, turning to prep his materials. You watch the muscles shift as he reaches for a stencil pad. “Okay, shirt off. Just what you need, nothing more. I won’t bite.”

You freeze.

He pauses for a beat. Then tilts his head, eyes crinkling slightly. “Unless you beg,” he adds with a wink.

Your cheeks go hot. You laugh—nervously. It feels like your skin is already burning.

You carefully lift your shirt just high enough to expose the side of your torso, tugging the fabric over your bra, folding it under your arm to keep it out of the way. You're acutely aware of how much skin you're showing—even more so under that bright, direct light.

He kneels beside you with the stencil, gaze focused. You expect him to avoid eye contact, to be clinical—but Han is anything but.

His fingers brush your waist, and they stay there, warm through the gloves. His hand spreads slightly, holding your skin steady as he gently presses the cool stencil to your ribs.

“Breathe for me, yeah?” he murmurs, glancing up at you with a crooked smile. “I’m gonna press it right here…”

You suck in a breath, chest rising.

He places the stencil deliberately. Slowly. His face is close—close enough that you can see the curve of his lashes, the faint sheen of gloss on his lip ring. You smell cedar and musk on his hoodie. His fingers flex slightly against your side.

He looks up.

“You’re already twitchy,” he says softly, voice dropping just enough to make you forget how to breathe. “Gonna be a fun ride.”

You don’t know if he means the tattoo. And neither does he.

He stands and moves to the table beside him, switching out tools like it’s second nature. The machine buzzes to life with a sharp mechanical hum.

You tense.

He catches it immediately.

“First pinch might sting,” he says, voice suddenly gentle, almost coaxing. “I’ll talk you through it. You’re good.”

You nod again, trying not to clench your fists.

Then his hand is back on your body.

He anchors you with one palm spread wide over your side, right above your hip. It’s not forceful, but there’s weight to it. A possessive steadiness. The leather chair creaks faintly under the shift of your body.

And then the needle touches. A sharp, sudden sting. You wince.

“Breathe. Just like that. You’re doing so well, pretty,” he says, voice a constant hum in your ear. “Your skin takes ink like a dream. Fuck, this is gonna look good.”

You exhale through your nose, trying to focus on the sound of his voice instead of the burn.

It helps. But not in the way it should. Because Han doesn’t shut up. Not once.

“Don’t squirm too much… unless you want me to slip.” “You’re soft here. So fucking soft.” “Bet you’re the type who likes being teased, huh?”

You let out a choked laugh, more from panic than humor. He grins, eyes glinting.

The buzz of the machine, the heat of his palm on your skin, the constant commentary—it all blends into a haze. You’re dripping adrenaline and something else entirely. You feel like you’ve been stripped down far deeper than your shirt allows.

After what feels like both a lifetime and a blink, the needle slows. He lifts it. “Almost done. You’ve been such a good girl for me.”

The words land like a slap and a stroke at once.

He sets the machine aside, reaching for a fresh cloth. He wipes your skin slowly. Not rough. Not rushed. Every pass of his hand is careful, gentle.

You’re trembling now. Just a little.

He leans back finally and exhales. The air feels different. Like it’s shifted again—thicker.

“There,” he says. “Wanna see?”

You nod, throat dry.

He helps you up—guides you to a mirror near the corner. His hand stays on your back.

You look. And for a second, you forget how to breathe again. The tattoo is perfect. Clean, delicate, exactly how you pictured it. But it’s not just the ink that makes your chest ache—it’s the fact that it’s his. His hands made this. His touch. His art. On your skin.

“My work’s on you now,” he murmurs behind you, voice low and close. “You’re not gonna forget me, are you?”

You shake your head. You couldn’t if you tried.

The moment you slide your shirt back down, your skin feels… different. Not just because it's slightly tender from the ink, but because his touch still lingers. Like heat soaked into your bones. Like a fingerprint on your soul. You shouldn’t be this affected—he’s just your tattoo artist. Right?

You sit there for a moment longer than necessary, blinking as he finishes cleaning his station. His gloves come off with a snap, and he tosses them into the bin. You glance up, and—yep—he’s watching you.

Leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed, hair a little mussed, rings catching the light. Smug as hell.

“You survived,” he says, voice bright with that chaos-riddled lilt again. “Didn’t cry. Didn’t puke. I’m impressed.”

You roll your eyes. “High praise.”

“I’ve had grown men pass out from rib pieces,” he shrugs. “One guy farted. Loud. Mid-linework. I almost dropped the machine.”

You snort despite yourself. “Well, thanks for not comparing me to the Fart Guy until the end.”

He grins, wide and gleaming. “No, no, you’re top-tier,” he says, stepping closer to grab your care sheet. “Didn’t even whimper. Except for that one part where your breath hitched and I thought—y’know, for a second—you might come on the chair.”

You nearly choke. “Excuse me?!”

“Kidding,” he sing-songs. “Unless…?”

Your glare is ruined by the flush racing up your neck. You stand and grab your bag in a hurry, trying to save face. “You’re awful.”

“I’m delightful.”

He leads you back toward the front desk, swaying just slightly with each step, like he’s got too much energy stored in those shoulders. You swear he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. It’s giving feral golden retriever with a tattoo gun and a praise kink.

You hand over your card while avoiding eye contact.

He hums dramatically as he takes it, flipping it over like he’s studying an ancient rune.

“You sure you don’t wanna tip in other ways?” he says, deadpan.

Your jaw drops.

He grins, swipes your card, and taps it dramatically against the reader before handing it back. “Joking, obviously. Unless that wasn't a ‘no,’ in which case, I’m free next week—Tuesday, after 7?”

You grab the receipt from the printer and scowl at him. “You flirt with all your clients like this?”

“Only the pretty ones who shake when I touch their ribs.”

You stare.

He smiles wider.

“Okay, okay—last line, I swear,” he chuckles. Then, softer: “Hey. Can I get your number?”

The way he asks it—it’s not sleazy. It’s bold, sure. But there’s this undercurrent of actual interest, like he’s asking for something more than just your digits.

You blink. “Why?”

“‘Cause I want it?” he says, grinning. “Also, in case your tattoo needs a touch-up. Or emotional support. Or if you just feel like sending me hot selfies. It’s a multi-purpose thing.”

You hesitate. Your pulse says yes before your mouth does. He notices. He always notices. You hand him your phone, and he immediately types his own number in, labelling it:

HAN “WILL NOT SHUT UP” JISUNG 🖤

He sends himself a text from your phone, winks, then gives it back. “Now we’re connected,” he says “Digitally. Spiritually. Carnally—well, not yet.”

You open your mouth to sass him. “You were so close to being cool,” you say.

“Close is my middle name.”

You snort and shake your head as you step toward the door. “Bye, Han.”

“See you soon, angel.”

You’re out the door.

The texting started immediately. Like, within minutes of you leaving the shop.

What began as tattoo care check-ins (“don’t scratch it or I’ll spank you—unless?”) turned into daily chaos. Then nightly chaos. Then a full-blown flirtationship spiralling out of control.

Han texts like he lives inside your brain—firing off filthy one-liners between jokes that make you wheeze-laugh at 1AM, switching between “you’re my filthy little secret” and “pls tell me I’m cute or I’ll cry.”

You finally cave after he begs you to get ramen at 9PM “as friends who have sexual tension.”

You show up. He’s already sitting cross-legged in the booth, hoodie sleeves rolled up, lip ring glinting, chopsticks twirling in one hand like he’s about to duel someone.

He greets you with: “You look edible. I meant that in a respectful way. Mostly.”

You try to play it cool. He doesn’t let you.

The whole night is full of dumb jokes, spicy noodles, and under-the-table foot nudging that turns into ankle grazing that turns into—

“You keep that up, baby,” he murmurs across the table, “and I’m gonna drag you to the bathroom and remind you what these fingers can do.”

You nearly choke on your drink. He laughs, head tilted back, so proud of himself.

You leave flustered. He kisses your cheek in the parking lot. Just your cheek. But his hand lingers at your waist. His mouth is right next to your ear.

“Call me when you can’t sleep,” he says, low. “I’ll make sure you get tired again.”

You almost trip on the curb.

The calls eventually started and slowly became routine. Especially those 1AM phone calls, they were like clockwork. You, in bed, breath heavy as his voice would melt through the speaker.

“You touching yourself yet?” “You want me to talk you through it?” “Want me to tell you what I’d do if I had you on my lap right now?”

He moans in your ear when you do what he says.

Filthy. Unfiltered. And when it’s over—when you’re breathless and ruined—he says the softest things:

“Wish I was there to hold you.” “You’re so fucking hot, but you’re also cute and funny and it’s unfair.” “You still like me, right?”

It’s not just lust anymore. It's want. Sticky, addictive, confusing want.

It started with a text.

Just one. Sent on a whim while lying in bed late at night, staring at the first tattoo he gave you—delicate black lines peeking from beneath your shirt, still soft to the touch even weeks later.

[You, 11:23PM] thinking about getting another one

You didn’t expect a fast reply. But Jisung’s name lit up your phone in under two minutes.

[HAN “WILL NOT SHUT UP” 🖤, 11:24PM] oh?? 👀 where when how much skin we talking is it just an excuse to see me again (pls say yes)

You rolled your eyes. Typed back:

[You] hipbone small script and maybe what if it was both

His reply came in a blink:

[HAN “WILL NOT SHUT UP” 🖤] come by the shop this friday after hours no distractions just me. you. ink. doors locked. lights low. …for professionalism, obviously 🙃

You stared at the screen for a long time before replying.

And then:

[You] see you friday.

Friday. 9:04PM.

Seoul’s city pulse is just starting to dim when you push open the door to NO SAINT INK for the second time.

The bell doesn’t ring. He told you it wouldn’t.

The neon signs are still lit—SINNER’S HANDS flickering a slow blood-red glow in the window—but the rest of the shop feels different. Empty. Still. Like something waiting to be touched.

The lights are dimmed. Only one small lamp buzzes near the back, casting long shadows across the matte-black walls.

Your steps echo a little as you walk inside. Then—

“Back here, pretty.”

His voice, low and smooth, floats from behind a curtain in the far booth.

You follow it. Pull the curtain aside. And there he is.

He’s already set up.

Tattoo machine prepped, gloves laid out neatly beside his sketch pad. He’s wearing an oversized black tee tucked loosely into ripped jeans, sleeves rolled just enough to show off the ink that curls around his biceps like living things.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

He’s focused on the script you’d sent him earlier—your design. A small phrase, handwritten in your own messy scrawl: “still hungry.”

When he finally glances up, it hits you like the first time all over again.

The way his lip curls. The way his eyes bite first and ask questions later. “Look at you,” he murmurs, voice dipped in something dark and fond. “Back for more.”

You lean against the booth’s edge, heartbeat already in your throat. “You said professionalism, remember?”

He stands slowly. Walks toward you. You can feel the heat radiating off him in waves.

“I lied.”

A beat. Then—

“Where’s it going again?”

You lift the hem of your hoodie just a little. Hook your thumb beneath your waistband and tug it down, just far enough to expose the sharp curve of your hipbone.

His gaze drops.

Stays.

He doesn’t speak for a moment too long. Just stares—like he’s trying to memorize you before he ruins you. “That’s dangerous, you know,” he says softly. “Letting me touch you there.”

You try to swallow. Fail. “You’re the one who said no distractions.”

He smiles. “You’re the fucking distraction.”

He gloves up without another word.

You lie back on the chair, heart slamming in your chest, every inch of skin suddenly too hot.

You’re not sure what you expected. Something casual? Familiar? But the moment his gloved hand touches your bare hip—steadying you, fingers spread firm and warm—the entire world narrows to him.

“Breathe for me,” he murmurs, positioning the stencil. “Just like last time. You remember how good you were for me?”

You exhale shakily.

“You gonna behave again tonight, pretty thing?”

You whisper: “Maybe.”

He leans in. His mouth is close to your skin. His voice—barely a breath. “God, I hope not.” He’s still positioning the stencil.

And you? You're laid back on the chair, hoodie bunched beneath your ribs, waistband tugged low, every nerve ending on alert. The soft lamplight paints shadows across his jaw as he kneels between your legs, eyes focused.

And then—

“You know,” he says lightly, pressing the stencil into place, “I’ve seen a lot of hipbones. But this one might be my favourite.”

You snort. “Wow. So original.”

He grins without looking up. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“I’m sure you say that to all your clients.”

“Only the ones who sext me about popsicles and then block me for ten minutes.”

You go still. He finally glances up. Smirks. “Yeah. Thought I forgot about that?”

You mutter, “I hate you.”

“You love me,” he says immediately, like it’s a fact. “You want me to ruin your life. Slowly. Lovingly. With tattoos and aftercare.”

You cover your face. “Shut up.”

He laughs—a low, breathy sound. Then, softly: “I’m starting the line now. Hold still, baby.”

The machine whirs to life.

It’s quieter than you remember. Or maybe you’re just more aware—of everything. The way his gloved hand steadies your hip, thumb dragging along the edge of your waistband. The needle’s sharp kiss. The buzz settling into your bones.

And Han’s voice. God, he never stops talking.

“This spot’s sensitive,” he says, totally casual. “Most people squirm. But I like that.”

You tense. He notices. Of course he does.

“Relax,” he murmurs, dragging the line smooth. “You’re doing perfect.”

Another pause. Then—

“Don’t suppose you’re into pain, are you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. He chuckles under his breath. “God, you so are.”

But then, just like that—his tone shifts. He quiets. Focuses. And the teasing melts into something heavier. “Almost done,” he says, more softly this time. “You’ve been so good for me again. Always are.”

You blink. Your heart skips.

He wipes your skin again, slow and reverent, then leans back to look. He’s still crouched between your thighs, eyes focused, lips parted slightly as he takes it in.

“Fuck.”

You blink. “What?”

He looks up at you. No grin now. Just quiet, open admiration. “It’s gorgeous,” he says. “Like… stupid good.” He presses a kiss to his gloved fingertips and taps them against your skin.

“Still hungry,” he reads aloud. “God, I could write essays on that.”

“Don’t,” you whisper.

“Too late. MLA format. Double spaced. Thesis: you’re gonna kill me.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re flushed. Breath shallow. Because now that the needle’s done…

He’s not moving. His hand stays on your waist. His eyes flick to your lips. Then back down. Then—

“You want me to touch you?”

The question lands like a live wire in the room. But he doesn’t push. Doesn’t smirk. He just waits. Like he’s offering something sacred. Like he’d back off the second you said no. But you don’t. You can’t.

You nod. Barely.

His fingers tighten on your skin. “Nah,” he murmurs. “Say it. I want to hear it.”

You swallow.

“…Yes.”

“Yes what, baby?”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Jisung—”

“Use your words, pretty thing. Or I’ll stop before I start.”

You suck in a breath, eyes locking with his. “I want you to touch me.”

He moves instantly.

The gloves are still on when he presses his palm flat against your hipbone, fingers spreading possessively. His hand feels huge there—like it was made for this exact spot.

“Fuck. Been thinking about this since the first time you came in,” he mutters, voice dropping into something rough, reverent. “You looked so fucking good in that chair. All nervous and squirmy.”

He bends down.

Kisses the edge of your new tattoo, so soft it almost hurts. “My name’s not even on you,” he whispers, “and I’m still acting like you’re mine.”

Your stomach flips. You whimper.

And he grins, but it’s different now—hungry, not cocky. “Take your pants off.”

You blink.

He meets your eyes. “Let me take care of you.”

You obey—slow, breathless, trembling under his gaze. You slide them down and toss them aside. He leans in again, eyes tracing over the new ink and everything below it, slow and starving.

You’re not wearing much underneath, lacy pink panties, with a very obvious wet spot on your center.

He groans softly. “You’re already wet.”

You gasp when his fingers brush over you, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. “All this from a little needle?” he teases. “Or is it the artist?”

“Fuck you,” you breathe.

He laughs. One low, wicked exhale. “Oh, you will. But not yet.”

He leans back, peels his gloves off slowly—dragging each finger loose one by one, like he’s unwrapping a gift. Tosses them into the bin without taking his eyes off you once.

Then he lowers himself between your legs.

Spreads your thighs just a little further apart with both hands. You hear him exhale.

“Fuck. This is gonna kill me.”

He doesn’t touch you yet. Just leans in.

And presses a kiss right above your knee. Then the inside of your thigh. Then a little higher. And a little higher.

Your breath hitches when his lips ghost just beside the fabric.

“Soaked through lace,” he murmurs. “That’s so fucking pretty, baby.”

You’re shaking now.

He mouths over the wet spot—not even pulling them down yet. Just letting the heat of his breath and the drag of his lips torture you. You feel the scrape of his lip ring as he kisses you again, open-mouthed, right there.

“Bet you’d cum just from this,” he whispers. “My mouth through your panties. Barely even trying.”

You whimper. One hand fisting the edge of the chair.

His fingers slide over the wet spot next, slow and teasing. Two fingers rub a lazy circle, barely pressing—just enough to make your hips twitch. “I should leave these on,” he says, almost to himself. “Just push them to the side. Make you beg for it.”

You breathe, “Jisung—please—”

That does it.

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and drags them down—slow, deliberate, watching every inch of you get exposed.

He groans loudly the second you’re bare. “Holy fuck.”

Then he’s leaning in again, this time nothing between you. He kisses your inner thigh first. Then lower.

Then—

His tongue drags one long, obscene stripe up your center. You cry out, hips bucking—he presses a hand to your stomach, holding you still with an effortless command:

“Stay fucking still.”

Then he goes back in. He licks you like he means it—messy, slow, then fast and deep. His tongue circles your clit with practiced chaos. He moans against you, loud, like you taste like something sacred.

“You taste like fucking heaven,” he groans, voice muffled.

His hands spread you wider, his tongue dipping into your heat, nose pressed right up against your skin.

Then he sucks. Hard.

Your head falls back—gone.

“That’s it,” he purrs. “My perfect little slut. Look at you.”

Your hands tangle in his hair. You tug. He groans again and ruts into the fucking air, desperate for friction while he eats you out like he’s starving.

“You gonna cum on my mouth?” he growls, voice wrecked. “You want me to keep going or make you beg for it?”

You try to answer—can’t.

He pulls back for just a moment, lips and chin shining. “Use your words, baby. You know the rules.”

“Please—fuck—don’t stop, please—Jisung—”

“God,” he groans. “Keep saying my name like that and I’m gonna cum in my fucking jeans.”

Then he dives back in, faster now, tongue fucking into you, hand moving to circle your clit with soaked fingers while he sucks and moans like you’re his last goddamn meal. He’s everywhere—his mouth, his hand, the filthy hum of his moans vibrating straight through your core. He doesn’t pause to tease, doesn’t stop to talk this time. He’s all action now. Starved. Feral.

“Fuck,” he growls between licks, the words hot and wet against your folds. “You taste so fucking good. Gonna make me lose my mind.”

His tongue pushes in again. He flicks it fast, then slow, then sucks at your clit with a deep, wet moan that makes you cry out, back arching clean off the chair.

“There you go,” he pants, not even breaking rhythm. “Just like that. Give it to me, baby. Come on.” His voice is breathless, desperate—like he’s the one about to cum.

You’re shaking. Legs trembling. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

Your hands are clutching his hair, holding him right where you need him, and he just groans louder, grinding his face deeper like he wants to live between your legs. His lip ring catches against your clit—again, and again—and your thighs clamp around his head instinctively.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even flinch.

He just moans into you, hands gripping your hips tighter, holding you down as your whole body starts to unravel. You feel it in your spine. In your toes. In the fucking air.

“You close, pretty thing?” he slurs against your clit. “Yeah, you are. You’re fucking dripping—making a mess for me. So fucking perfect. All mine.”

That breaks you.

You cum harder than you ever have in your life—with a sob, a gasp, a full-body spasm that crashes over you like a goddamn tsunami.

You hear yourself. You scream his name.

Jisung. Jisung. Jisung.

And he takes it.

He drinks it down like a man possessed, moaning into you like you’re water in the desert, like he’s been waiting his whole life to taste you fall apart. He doesn’t even stop when you cum—he licks you through it, tongue softening only slightly as your body twitches and bucks and pleads for mercy.

It’s too much. It’s so good it hurts.

“J-Jisung—fuck—wait—too much—”

Only then does he pull back, chest heaving, face absolutely wrecked. His mouth, his chin, even the tip of his nose glistens with you. He looks dazed.

Blessed.

He runs a hand down his face and just stares at you—spread out, soaked, shaking, glowing.

Then: “Holy fuck.”

You blink up at him, still gasping, brain static.

He grins—wide, flushed, proud as hell. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. Best pussy of my life.” You try to sass him. You really do. But all that comes out is a whimper.

“Aw,” he coos, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Dumbed you out already?”

He brushes your hair back, kisses your forehead. “You okay?”

You nod. Barely.

“You want more?”

You nod. Desperately.

He chuckles, voice thick with affection and wrecked restraint. “Yeah, baby. Me too.” Then he stands up, undoing his belt with shaking hands, and murmurs: “Get comfy. ’Cause I’m gonna fuck you so good, you forget your own name.”

You’re still gasping. Still trembling. But your eyes follow the movement of his hands—shaking slightly as he undoes his belt, then the button, then the zipper.

He pushes his jeans down—

And your breath catches. You knew he’d be pretty. But not like this. Not this.

Thick. Flushed. Slight curve to the left.

And not just the look of it—the feel of it, even before he’s inside. You know instinctively it’s going to destroy you. That kind of snug fit that presses into all the right places and leaves no room for secrets.

He strokes himself once, slow and slick, precum already leaking from the tip. “Gonna be good for me, baby?” he asks, voice shaking as he fists his cock. “Let me feel that perfect pussy now?”

You nod. Dumb. Ready. So wet you feel it drip onto the chair beneath you.

He lines up—rubs the head of his cock over your folds, up and down, teasing your clit before circling your entrance. You’re still sensitive. Still twitching. And he feels it. “Still throbbing for me,” he murmurs. “God, you’re unreal.”

He pushes in. Slow. Deep. Too much. Too good.

You cry out—your body arching, your hands gripping the armrest and his forearm and anything you can reach.

Because he fits. Perfectly. Thick enough to make you stretch wide, gasp, feel it in your lungs. But not enough to hurt. No—just enough to ruin you.

“F-fuck,” he groans, head falling forward. “You’re squeezing me so tight—Jesus—don’t move yet, I’ll cum too fast—” He bottoms out, hips flush to yours. He stays there for a second. Still trembling. His cock twitches inside you.

“I’m gonna die,” he whispers. “I’m gonna die in this pussy.”

You laugh—a breathless, broken thing—and he grins like he’s proud.

Then? He pulls out halfway. And slams back in. Hard. And again. And again. Fast. Unhinged. Like he’s been waiting to do this for weeks. “Oh fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby—keep takin’ it—so fucking perfect—”

He’s rambling now. Whimpering.

Each thrust hits so deep you swear you see stars. It’s a rhythm that shouldn’t exist, shouldn’t be real. Every stroke dragging against your g-spot, every snap of his hips making your thighs quake.

And he’s talking. So much.

“You feel that? Huh? You feel how good you make me?” “You’re all mine. This pussy? Fucking mine. Say it.” “Say it, baby, c’mon—tell me who it belongs to—”

You choke out, “You—it’s yours, Jisung—fuck, you’re so deep—”

He moans—wrecked. “God, I’m not gonna last—fuck—you’re too good—you’re too fucking good—” Then he bends down—mouth at your ear, hips still pounding into you like he’s trying to brand your soul.

“One more,” he whispers. “Just one more, yeah? Be my good girl and cum for me again—come on—cum on my cock—let me feel you—”

You barely get the chance to nod. Because then—he changes rhythm.

Not slower. Not gentler. Worse. He fucks you harder. Deeper. Like his body knows exactly how to hit every nerve inside you. Like he’s memorized your walls. And maybe he has. Maybe from the moment he first touched you in that chair, his entire brain rewired for this—for you.

“So fucking tight,” he pants, voice cracked open, almost panicked. “Shit—look at how you take me—look at that, fuck—”

He’s holding your waist again, but carefully—just above the fresh tattoo. His fingers dig into your ribs, grip locked in, not letting you squirm away as he slams into you, pace frantic, unrelenting.

“Can’t touch your hips,” he growls, “so I’m gonna hold you right here—just like this—until you fall apart again.”

Then his hand slides down. Finds your clit. And rubs. Fast. Tight.

You moan loud.

“Tell me what it feels like,” he pants, eyes locked on your face, wild. “Come on, baby—talk to me. You know the rules.”

You try. You try so hard.

“It’s—fuck—Jisung—it’s too much—I-I can’t—”

His hand doesn’t stop. His cock drives up into you like it’s chasing your orgasm, like he can feel it coming and he wants to drag it out of you with his bare hands. “Yes, you can. You’re my good girl, right? My perfect fucking baby—tell me what you feel.”

You sob. “It’s everywhere—it’s so deep—I feel you in my stomach, Jisung—”

That makes him moan—full, wrecked, helpless. “Yeah? That’s it, baby. You feel me stretching you out? You feel how hard you’re clenching around me?”

He’s unhinged. Fucking you like he needs to feel you cum on his cock. Like it’s his only goddamn mission in life.

“Don’t hold back. Let me have it. Show me how good I make you feel.” His fingers tighten, rub faster. His cock keeps slamming up into that perfect, perfect spot.

And you break.

You fall apart on him with a cry that splits the air—your orgasm ripping through you like a detonation, a white-hot snap that makes your whole body lock up and tremble.

You cum hard. Harder than before. Harder than ever.

And he feels it. Feels you clench around him like a vice, walls pulsing, soaked, squeezing every last bit of him until he’s gasping into your throat. “Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—baby—I’m—”

He slams in once, twice more—then stills. Buried deep. Groaning so loud it echoes. And cums. Hot. Fast. Deep. He fills you up with a desperate, whimpering exhale—head falling into the crook of your neck, fingers flexing tight on your waist as he rides it out, hips twitching helplessly inside you.

“Jesus—holy fuck—how are you real—”

You don’t know what you say. You don’t know if you’re breathing. All you know is he doesn’t let go. Not even after. His arms wrap around you, one hand sliding up to your ribs, the other cupping your jaw gently as he leans in and kisses your forehead.

Sweet. Messy. Possessive.

“I’m so fucking in love with your pussy.” he mumbles against your skin.

You laugh—wrecked and breathless. “You just came in me.”

“I did. I’ll take responsibility.”

“You didn’t even mean to.”

“That’s what makes it romantic.”

But then he goes quiet. Both of you do. Still joined. Still pulsing. The only sound in the room is your breathing—shaky, shallow, shared.

Han’s body is draped over yours, his skin hot and sticky, his face buried in your neck like he might actually die if he moves. He’s not even thrusting anymore—just lying there, full-on koala mode, arms around your waist, cock still twitching inside you like it doesn’t know it's over.

“I think I saw God,” he whispers.

You blink, still boneless and floating.

“Pretty sure she winked at me and said ‘Good job, Jisung.’”

You snort into the crumpled pillow beneath you. “Was she hot?”

He lifts his head just enough to deadpan: “She looked like you.”

A pause.

“Except taller. And clothed. And not full of cum.”

You let out a noise that’s half wheeze, half scream, face flushing as you try to twist away—but he tightens his grip, groaning as his still half-hard cock shifts inside you.

“Nooo, don’t move,” he whines. “You’ll make me hard again and I’ll die. You’re too powerful.”

You roll your eyes. “You just came in me, and now you’re being dramatic?”

He lifts his face, eyes wide. “I’m always dramatic. But now I’m dramatic and post-nut mushy.”

You smack his arm—lightly. He grins and kisses your shoulder like he’s never been happier in his life.

Then, suddenly gentle: “You okay? Need anything?”

You hum. “Water. A towel. A new pelvis.”

“I can offer you one of those things.”

He pulls out slowly, careful. You both wince a little, and he immediately fumbles for the nearest clean towel, muttering, “Shit, sorry, sorry—damn, we really did that, huh?”

He cleans you up softly, thoroughly. Tongue poking out in concentration, hands warm and reverent. You watch him in the dim light—his flushed cheeks, mussed-up curls, that stupid satisfied look on his face like he just won the lottery and the trophy was you.

He helps you sit up, eyes wide looking you over as if wanting to make sure you are okay and not just saying you're okay.

You smile at him, dazed. “That was insane.”

“You’re welcome.”

Then, quieter: “I really like you, by the way.”

You glance at him. He’s suddenly shy—voice small, fingers playing with the hem of the towel. “I mean—I know this was hot and wild and unholy, but like. You’re not just hot and wild and unholy. You’re…” He scratches the back of his head. “Cool. Funny. Gorgeous. Smart. And you have great pain tolerance and taste in art and—I dunno—your moans live in my soul now.”

You blink at him. He shrugs. “I just think you’re neat.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. You lean in, kiss him soft. He melts instantly.

Twenty minutes later, you’re both curled on the couch in the back lounge. Your legs are over his lap. You’re sipping water. He’s holding your hand and doodling hearts on your thigh with a sharpie.

“So,” he says, yawning. “When do you want your third tattoo?”

You give him a look. “Planning ahead?”

He smirks, smug. “Just making sure I get to fuck you again.”

You flick his forehead.

“Ow—okay, okay. For art. Not for horny.”

But you both know the truth. You’re absolutely getting another tattoo. And this man is going to absolutely ruin you again. With love. And dick. And filthy words. And then cuddle you like a little spoon with separation anxiety.

So the answer? Yeah. Yeah you will be seeing more of him. More dates. More dick. More tattoos. Guess it's fate.

[m0ri-apeuda]

Silent Desire

Chris x fem!reader x Hyunjin

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI

Genre: friends to lovers(?)

Summary: You and Chris are very close. A friendship at the edge of something else. But then there's Hyunjin and his soft silent longing.

a/n: Craving Hyunchan...

You were curled up on the couch, legs tangled with Chris’s under a shared throw blanket. The warmth of Chris’s body pressed against yours and the steady rhythm of his breathing, were the only thing in your mind just then. 

You’d been friends with Chris for years, the kind of friendship where the line had blurred long ago. Late-night studio sessions turned into sleepovers, and sleepovers turned into something more - something neither of you labeled but both of you craved. His apartment, shared with Hyunjin, was your second home at this point.

This morning, you were cuddled together, home after a late night out. You knew that Hyunjin was home, but the apartment was eerily quiet. Your voice was soft as you spoke, your heart flipping a little as Chris's hand rubbed circles on your hip where your shirt had ridden up. His eyes never left your face, drinking in every word you said.

Your hand, though, had a mind of its own. It started innocently as your fingers brushed over the hard planes of his abs, feeling the warmth of his skin under his black tank top. Chris was used to it, and it honestly didn't take his attention off your story.

Your touch drifted lower, teasing the waistband of his gray sweatpants, and then lower still, palming him lazily over the fabric. He was already half-hard, the outline of him pressing against your hand as you rubbed slow, firm circles.

A low hum rumbled in his throat, as you gripped him a little tighter. 

“You’re gonna kill me one day,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep and something else, his lips curving into a smirk.

“Good way to go, though, right?” You grinned, leaning closer until your nose brushed his.

He chuckled, and before he could respond, a soft gasp cut through the air.

You froze. So did Chris, before he turned to the source of the sound. The living room was still dark, so the only light came from the faint glow of the TV you’d left on mute.

Hyunjin stood in the hallway, his silhouette barely visible in the shadows. His oversized hoodie hung loosely on his frame, his eyes, wide and unblinking, were fixed on the two of you. He looked like he wanted to speak or move but couldn’t find the words.

“I…I didn’t mean to -” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze flickered down to where your hand still rested on Chris, and his cheeks flushed a deep pink, visible even in the dim light.

Chris shifted slightly, sitting up a bit but not pulling away from you.

“Hyunjin, it’s fine,” he said, voice calm. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Hyunjin shook his head, still rooted to the spot. His eyes darted to you, and there it was. That familiar spark you’d noticed before. Hyunjin had a crush on you, and he wasn’t very subtle about it. The way he blushed when you teased him, the way he lingered a little too long when you hugged him goodbye, and the way his voice softened when he said your name? Yeah, these things said it all.

He was adorable, with his shy smiles and sharp features, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it endearing.

But Chris was… Chris. Your anchor, your heat, your everything.

“Wanna join us?” you teased, your voice playful but with an edge that made Hyunjin’s breath catch. You didn’t move your hand from Chris, but you tilted your head, inviting him with a lazy smile.

Chris raised an eyebrow, glancing at you like he was trying to understand what's on your mind. But he didn’t object. He never did when you pushed boundaries. He just watched, waited -  letting you lead.

Hyunjin hesitated, his fingers twisting the hem of his hoodie.

“I… I don’t know if I should…”

“Come on,” Chris said, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. He patted the cushion next to him, and something in his voice, how low and reassuring it sounded seemed to tip Hyunjin over the edge.

He shuffled forward, sitting on the opposite end of the couch, his posture stiff. You noticed the way his eyes kept flicking to you, to Chris, to the way your bodies were still pressed together. Hyunjin’s gaze lingered on you both, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“You okay, Jinnie?” you asked, your voice a little huskier now. You shifted slightly, turning to face him, your hand was now rubbing slow circles over Chris. And he let out a soft groan, his head tipping back against the couch, and you felt the way he hardened fully under your touch.

Hyunjin nodded, but his eyes betrayed him - dark, dilated, fixed on the scene in front of him.

“Y-yeah,” he whispered, but his voice cracked, and he shifted in his seat, clearly trying to hide how much you affected him. 

Chris chuckled as he said, “He’s not as innocent as he looks. Bet he’s been thinking about this for a while.”

“Chris!” Hyunjin’s voice was a mix of embarrassment and protest, but he didn’t deny it. His cheeks were burning now, and he looked away, biting his lip.

“Is that true, Jinnie? You've been thinking about me?” You laughed softly, the sound low and teasing.

Hyunjin’s flustered silence was answer enough. His eyes met yours for a moment, and the raw need in them sent a shiver down your spine. You’d always thought he was cute, but this? His quiet intensity and the way he was trembling with nervous energy, had you craving him. 

“C’mere,” you said again, softly, patting the spot right next to you. Chris’s hand was on your thigh, giving you a little squeeze, like a silent encouragement.

Hyunjin was by your side in a blink, close enough that you could feel his body heat. His knee brushed yours, and he froze, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

You reached out, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb brushing over his jaw.

“You’re so sweet,” you murmured, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, leaning into your touch like he was starving for it.

Chris shifted beside you, his lips brushing your ear. 

“You’re gonna break him,” he whispered, but there was no jealousy in his voice. Just a dark, hungry edge that made your pulse race.

“Maybe I want to,” you whispered back, turning just enough to let Chris kiss you, slow and deep, your tongue sliding against his. He groaned into your mouth, his hand sliding under your shirt to grip your waist, pulling you closer.

Your hand didn't leave Hyunjin. Instead, your fingers trailed down his neck, feeling the way his pulse hammered under your touch.

When you pulled back from Chris, Hyunjin was watching, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. You leaned toward him, close enough that your lips were inches from his.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked, voice soft, almost a whisper. 

He nodded so fast it was comical, and you closed the distance, kissing him gently at first. His lips were soft and hesitant, but when you deepened the kiss, he absolutely melted. A small whimper escaped him as he kissed you back desperately.

Your hand slid down his chest, feeling the lean muscle under his hoodie, and then lower, brushing over the front of his pajama pants.

He was so hard. Painfully so. And he gasped into your mouth, his hips bucking up into your touch. You stroked him gently, and Hyunjin’s head fell back, a soft moan spilling from his lips.

“Fuck,” Chris muttered, his voice rough as he watched you.

His hand slid between your thighs, finding you already wet through your thin sleep shorts, and his fingers moved over the fabric, making your breath hitch.

Hyunjin’s hands finally moved, one slipping under your shirt to caress your ribs, the other gripping your thigh tightly. Chris’s lips were on your neck, sucking lazily, his fingers slipping under your waistband and straight into your wetness, and you moaned, the sound muffled against Hyunjin’s lips.

“You’re so sensitive, Jinnie,” you murmured against his mouth, stroking him over his pants, feeling the way he trembled under your touch. “You like this?”

“Y-yes,” he gasped, his voice high and needy. “Please… don’t stop.”

Chris chuckled, his fingers curling inside you, making you arch against him.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” he said to Hyunjin, his voice teasing. “Drives me fucking crazy.”

Hyunjin could only nod, his eyes glazed with lust as he watched the way you moved between them. Your hands slipped under his hoodie, feeling his toned stomach under your fingers. Your eyes met, and he gulped, wetting his lips nervously.

You literally couldn't resist this man, and leaned down to kiss the skin just above his waistband, making him shudder. You tugged Hyunjin’s pants and boxers down just enough to free him.

He was gorgeous - flushed, leaking, and so, so eager. You stroked him slowly, your lips brushing the tip, and he cried out, his hands fisting the cushions.

The soft, desperate whimpers spilling from his lips were enough to melt you. You glanced up at him through your lashes, taking in the way his sharp features were softened by pleasure - eyes half-closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed a deep pink. He was unravelling, and you hadn’t even started.

“Relax, Jinnie,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you stroked him slowly, your thumb circling the head. “Let me take care of you.”

He nodded, or tried to, but the moment your lips closed around him, warm and wet, his entire body jerked. A strangled moan tore from his throat, loud enough to echo in the quiet apartment, and his hips bucked involuntarily, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. You hummed, the vibration making him shudder, and you took him slowly, savouring the way he felt. So hot, heavy, and so responsive. 

“Fuck,” Hyunjin gasped, one hand flying to your hair, not pulling but just resting there, like he needed to anchor himself. “You’re - oh god-”

Behind you, Chris’s low chuckle sent a shiver down your spine. You felt him shift  as he moved to kneel behind you. His hands, warm and strong, slid over your hips, tugging your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion and it made you gasp around Hyunjin. He whimpered, his fingers tightening in your hair.

“Look at you,” Chris murmured, his voice rough with want as his hands squeezed your ass. “So fucking perfect, taking care of him like that.”

His fingers brushed between your legs, finding you soaked, and he groaned, low and primal.

“And so ready for me.”

You moaned, the sound muffled as you bobbed your head, taking Hyunjin deeper. The stretch of your lips around him, the way he pulsed against your tongue felt intoxicating. He was falling apart,  his breaths coming faster, his moans turning into needy little cries.

“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. “I’m…fuck, I’m so close.”

“Not yet, Jinnie,” you said, pulling off just enough to speak, your hand still stroking him lazily. You flicked your tongue over the tip, and he whined, his whole body trembling. 

Chris’s hand landed on your lower back, pushing you down slightly as he said, “You’re such a tease,”

And then you felt the pressure of him against you, hot and hard, making you gasp. He didn’t rush, though. He just teased you, sliding himself along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“Chris,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you braced one hand on Hyunjin’s thigh, the other still working him slowly. “Please.”

He didn’t make you wait. With one slow thrust, he filled you. You moaned at the gentle sting, as your body adjusted to the fullness. Hyunjin’s eyes snapped open, watching the way you arched, the way Chris’s hands gripped your hips, and his own hips twitched, chasing your mouth again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Chris growled, his voice low and rough as he pulled back and thrust again, making your toes curl. His fingers dug into your skin, and he set a lazy rhythm, like he was savoring every second of being inside you.

You leaned forward, taking Hyunjin back into your mouth, and the combined sensation of Chris fucking you from behind, Hyunjin trembling under your tongue, pushed you to the edge real soon. 

You sucked Hyunjin harder, your tongue swirling around him as you moved faster, matching the rhythm of Chris’s thrusts. Hyunjin was a mess now, his moans turning into broken sobs, his hips stuttering as he tried not to thrust too hard into your mouth.

“You’re gonna make him cry,” Chris said, his voice laced with dark amusement as he leaned over you, one hand sliding up your spine to grip your shoulder, pulling you back onto him harder. “Look at him, baby. He’s wrecked.”

You pulled off just enough to glance up at Hyunjin, and the sight nearly undid you. His face and neck were glistening with sweat, and his eyes were glassy. He looked like he was one breath away from falling apart completely, 

“Want you to cum for me, baby,” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you stroked him, your lips brushing the tip. “Can you do that for me?”

He nodded frantically, his breath hitching, and you took him deep again, sucking hard as your hand worked what your mouth couldn’t reach. Chris’s thrusts grew sharper, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that made you clench around him. The pleasure was overwhelming, a tight coil building in your core, and you moaned around Hyunjin, the vibration pushing him over the edge.

“Fuck, I…I’m -” Hyunjin’s words cut off in a choked cry as he came, hot and sudden, spilling into your mouth. You swallowed what you could, letting the rest drip down your chin as you kept moving, taking it all from him. His body shook, his hands clutching your hair like a lifeline as he gasped for air. 

Chris groaned, raw and possessive, as he watched you.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

His fingers pressed harder against you, and his thrusts grew rougher, as he chased his own release along with yours.

“So fucking good for us.”

You were close, your body trembling as Chris’s fingers and cock worked you in perfect sync. Hyunjin’s hands softened in your hair, his touch turning gentle, almost reverent, as he watched you,  his eyes wide with awe. The contrast - the tenderness from Hyunjin, the raw intensity from Chris, sent you spiraling.

“Chris,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the coil snapped. Your orgasm hit hard, waves of pleasure crashing through you as you clenched around him. Chris cursed under his breath, his hips stuttering as he followed you, thrusting deep one last time as he came, filling you with a warmth that made you shudder.

For a moment, everything was quiet again. Just the sound of heavy breathing. Chris pulled out slowly, his hands gentle as he helped you sit up, tugging your panties and shorts back into place. Hyunjin was still slumped against the couch, his chest heaving as he stared at you with something like adoration.

“You okay, baby?” you asked him, and he leaned towards you to wipe your chin with his hand.

He nodded, as he whispered, “Yeah… yeah, I’m… wow.”

Chris laughed, as he pulled you against his chest, kissing the side of your head.

“Told you she’d break you,” he said to Hyunjin, but his eyes were on you, soft and loving. 

You nestled into Chris’s warmth, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Hyunjin’s face.

“You’re so cute,” you teased, and he blushed, ducking his head.

The three of you stayed there, huddled together on the couch as the sunlight started to creep through the windows. No one said anything about what came next. Because for now, this was enough - the closeness and the quiet promise of more.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

[m0ri-apeuda]

"Let Me Make You a Mommy"

SKZ Maknae Line x Reader

⤷ Smut | drabbles/hard thoughts

⤷ WC - 1.7k [total]

⤷ CW - breeding kink, rough sex, creampie, degradation, praise, teasing, unprotected sex, 

⤷ A/N: It's Maknae Line Time! ... Somehow Seungmin and Innie's ended up being the longest ... anyway, I hope you enjoy♡

Hyung Line | ⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Han

He's a mess above you, hair damp with sweat, mouth parted, hands gripping the backs of your knees to keep you spread open for him. The headboard slams against the wall with every thrust, the bed creaking like it’s begging for mercy. But he doesn't slow down. He can’t even fathom the thought of stopping. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—” he groans, voice cracking as he slams in deep again. “You feel so good, baby. So tight. So wet—shit, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

You’re already half-gone, body rocking with every thrust, barely able to keep your eyes open with how hard he’s taking you. Han fucks you like he’s made for it and you take it like it’s all you know how to do. It’s carnal how he presses you open, fucking a whimper out of your throat every time his hips slam home, like he’s trying to brand you from the inside out—like he won’t stop until your cunt forgets anyone who isn’t him.

He leans down suddenly, forearms bracketing your head, hips still pounding into you without pause. His forehead rests against yours and he moans—loud—like your body’s dragging the truth out of him.

Then he says it.

“Let me make you a mommy.”

Your whole body locks up. His doesn’t. He slams into you harder.

“You want that?” he pants, words slurred and frantic. “Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you?”

“Ji—”

“Bet you’d look so good,” he growls, eyes blown wide, totally wrecked. “Walking around full. Round. Dripping with me.”

You whimper, and that sound breaks him—he starts babbling, so close, completely unhinged.

“Wanna see you take it. All of it. Wanna come so deep you leak for hours. Wanna ruin you—fuck, wanna keep you like this.”

He kisses you sloppily—teeth, tongue, need—and then pulls back just enough to watch your face.

“Gonna give it to you, okay?” he gasps. “Gonna come inside you like you were made for it.”

One more thrust. One more shattered moan.

And then he’s spilling into you—loud, twitching, clutching you like he needs to anchor himself to survive it.

He doesn’t stop moving, just slower now, grinding into you like he wants to make sure every drop stays.

“Shit,” he breathes, blinking hard, chest heaving. “I meant that. Every word.”

And you know he did—because Jisung never says what he doesn’t mean. Especially not when he’s this gone.

Felix

He moans when you pull him in deeper—legs wrapped around his waist, nails scraping down his back. His body is flushed and slick with sweat, golden skin glowing in the dim light as he thrusts into you, slow at first, savoring the drag.

“You feel so good,” he whispers, voice low, eyes locked on yours. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You tighten around him and his breath catches, hips faltering just a bit.

“You’re everything,” he says, like a prayer. “Don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

His hands cradle your face as he fucks you, tender and steady, like he can’t believe he gets to have you like this.

But then your fingers slide into his hair—tug just a little—and the sound he makes isn’t soft. It’s raw. And suddenly his pace changes. Faster. Deeper. More desperate.

“I want—” he gasps, cutting himself off with a groan. “I want something.”

“Tell me.”

He hesitates. Thrusts hard once, and again, and then—

“Let me make you a mommy.”

The words come out breathless. Shaky. Like he’s been holding them in.

You blink up at him, stunned, and his face breaks into this wrecked, needy expression.

“I think about it,” he pants, fucking you harder now, voice dropping into something rough and gritty, close to a growl. “Think about coming inside you. Filling you up. Watching you swell with me.”

You moan—loud—and his grip tightens.

“You’d be so beautiful,” he says, voice cracking. “You already are. But like that? Mine?”

His rhythm starts to lose its smoothness—hips snapping with less control, mouth parted, breath caught on every thrust.

“I’ll be good,” he whimpers, forehead falling to your shoulder. “I’ll take care of you. Everything. Just let me do this. Let me give you something.”

He comes with a cry muffled against your skin—body trembling, cock buried deep as he spills into you. He doesn’t move for a while, just stays pressed against you, breathing hard, whispering soft nothings into your shoulder.

And then, when he finally pulls back to look at you—eyes dark, voice barely audible—

“I want all of you. Always have.”

Seungmin 

“Look at you,” Seungmin mutters, voice like hot iron cutting through the haze as he drags his cock slow and deep. “Already cockdumb and I’ve barely even started.”

Your hands are fisting the sheets. Back arched. Lips parted as he keeps you there—legs wide, hips tilted just how he wants them. The way he fucks you is deliberate. Precise. Like every thrust has a goal.

You try to say his name, but all that comes out is a broken whimper.

He leans down until his forehead is brushing yours, hips still rolling in maddening rhythm. “So good for me,” he breathes. “Take me so well. Always do.”

And then he goes still. Deep inside you. Not moving.

His hand curls under your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

“You want everything from me, don’t you?” he says, voice low and sharp. “You want me to fuck you full. Fill you up until it sticks.”

You can barely breathe.

His thumb brushes your bottom lip as his cock twitches inside you.

“Let me make you a mommy.”

You gasp. The way he says it—like he’s offering a crown and daring you not to kneel for it.

“I bet you think about it,” he whispers. “I know you do, I do too, all the time. Watching you swell with me. With us.”

Your body clenches around him involuntarily.

He groans, low in his throat—and then it all shifts into something heavier. What comes next is pure fire behind the eyes.

“Say it back.”

You blink, breath shuddering.

His voice drops. “You heard me. Say it. Say you want me to make you a mommy.”

“Seungmin—”

“Uh-uh” He thrusts once, sharp and deep, and you cry out. That was a warning. “Say it.”

You’re shaking, heart pounding, every nerve ending lit up like a live wire—and he’s watching all of it, waiting. Not letting you look away.

“Say it, baby,” he murmurs, voice dangerously soft. “Or I’ll stop right now.”

You don’t even think.

“Make me a mommy.”

He goes still again. Eyes dark. Breathing hard.

“Again,” he rasps.

“Please, Seungmin—make me a mommy.”

And then he’s gone. All restraint snaps as he drives into you with brutal precision, fucking you like he’s trying to etch himself into your DNA.

“Good girl,” he grits. “So fucking good for me.”

You can’t think. You’re crying his name, legs shaking, nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you deep, deep, deeper, like he’s trying to give you every drop he has.

And when he comes—buried inside, panting against your skin—he says it again, this time like a promise:

“We’ll make it real. Just say when.”

Jeongin

You’re testing him—and you both know it.

Feet in his lap, short skirt riding up your thighs, head tilted like you’re innocent. But your smirk says otherwise.

“I don’t know if you could handle me,” you tease, swirling your wine glass, legs slowly parting as he watches, sharp-eyed and far too quiet.

Jeongin doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t bite back. He just shifts—broad shoulders rolling, a slow smirk rising like a storm behind his eyes.

“I don’t want to handle you,” he says low, fingers dragging up your shin. “I want to ruin you.”

You blink. The air thickens.

He sets your glass aside, pushes your legs open with a firm hand and leans in, lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “I know that’s what you really want too, isn’t it?”

He moves you, you barely register it until your hips are in the air, ass up for him and he pries your legs apart. You moan, gripping the couch cushions like they’ll save you.

“You want it?” he growls, fingers digging into your waist like he’s deciding how rough he wants to get. “You want me to fuck you stupid?”

You look back at him, just barely—biting back a smile, biting back a moan. “You’ve been talking a lot, Jeongin,” you pant. “Still waiting for you to actually do it.”

That’s all it takes.

His eyes go dark, pupils blown, and he’s on you before you can blink. 

He flips up your skirt and you yelp when his hand comes down in a harsh slap that makes you jolt. You feel him moving, you can hear the clinking of his belt then the drag of his zipper.

“You keep teasing like you’re not desperate for this,” he says, cock pressing right at your entrance, thick and pulsing. “But I can feel how ready you are. All wet, waiting for me to fill you up.”

“Jeongin—”

“You want it?” he growls. “You want me to breed you?” He slips in easily, groaning at just how ready you are to be torn apart.

You whimper—pathetic and honest.

One hand snaps to your throat, wrapping his fingers around and dragging you up against him, your back to his chest and the breath knocked out of you as he buries himself. 

“Still waiting?” he sneers against your jaw. “You’ve got a smart mouth for someone already shaking.”

Your previous bratitude fades the second he thrusts, hard and slow—obscene.

“You’re gonna be sorry you said that,” he whispers, tightening his grip just enough to make your pulse stutter. “Or is this what you wanted?” You whimper.

He’s fucking you like a threat. Every drag of his hips a punishment—every thrust precise, overwhelming, relentless. His hand slips between your legs, thumb circling your clit like he knows just how to end you. And he does—tears slipping from your eyes as your body tightens around him.

“Let me make you a mommy.”

Your pulse stutters.

His mouth finds your throat. He kisses slow—possessive.

“You’re gonna take it,” he hisses, “And you’re not gonna spill a fucking drop.”

You don’t answer—you can’t. But the way your hips buck and your fingers claw at his forearms says enough. He spills into you with a guttural curse, eyes locked on yours like he’s never letting you go.

And he won’t. Not now. Not when you’re his.

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[m0ri-apeuda]

Look What You Made Me Do

Bestfriend! Seungmin x Reader

Tags: Explicit content, dom!Seungmin, choking, spanking, obsession, mutual manipulation, friends being absolute menaces to each other, emotional walls crumbling under horny pressure, language, soft regret, hard truths, unprotected sex (be smart irl), and delulu behavior all around

Word count: 6k

Summary: You and Seungmin have been best friends forever. Then he got hot—and you got reckless. A few teasing touches, too-short clothes, and one dangerous trip to Victoria’s Secret later… he’s snapping. Now he’s got you pinned, moaning his name, and saying this is your fault. And honestly? It is. You just didn’t expect him to fuck you like he meant it.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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Seungmin had no idea what he was doing to you.

That was the most maddening part.

He’d always been cute—adorably annoying, fast-talking, sharp-eyed—but it wasn’t until he started hitting the gym that things… shifted. He’d bulked up slowly. Nothing crazy. Just enough to stretch the sleeves of his old T-shirts, to make the lines of his back visible when he reached for something, to have veins pop along his forearms when he gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.

And it was ruining you.

You tried to keep it under control. He was your best friend. Your movie-night buddy. The guy who knew your favorite ice cream flavor and let you scream into his chest when your favorite character died in a drama. But now?

Now he walked into your apartment after a workout, sweat-slick and flushed, with his hoodie slung over one shoulder and his water bottle dangling from two fingers, and your brain just… emptied.

“Ugh,” he groaned, dropping onto your bed like he belonged there, limbs sprawled, shirt clinging to his chest. “Kill me. Everything hurts.”

You leaned against your desk, sipping your iced coffee and pretending to be unfazed. “Did you even stretch?”

He threw an arm over his face. “Forgot. Again.”

You raised a brow, setting your drink down. “That’s why you’re sore all the time.”

“I know,” he mumbled. “You should become my trainer.”

A wicked little idea bloomed in your head. You walked over and sat beside him, knees brushing. “Seriously. Let me help. Where’s the worst of it?”

He peeked out from under his arm, wary. “My shoulders. Arms, maybe. Back.”

You hummed thoughtfully, eyes skimming down his body like you were considering a patient and not undressing your best friend with your eyes. “Roll over.”

He blinked. “What?”

You patted the bed. “C’mon. I’m giving you a free massage.”

He hesitated for a second before groaning and rolling onto his stomach. His shirt rode up just a little, flashing a strip of skin at the small of his back. You bit the inside of your cheek and straddled his thighs, pretending your pulse hadn’t just spiked.

“Let me know if anything hurts,” you said sweetly, placing your palms on his shoulders.

You felt him tense.

Then, slowly, he relaxed.

You started soft, thumbs tracing slow circles into the muscle. He was warm under your touch, all taut skin and heat, and he smelled like sweat and fabric softener. You let your fingers trail lower, down his biceps, deliberately grazing a little closer to his ribs than necessary.

He shifted beneath you.

“You okay?” you asked, voice syrupy.

“Y-Yeah,” he muttered. “Just ticklish.”

Liar.

You leaned down a little, letting your chest brush his back. “You sure?”

His breath stuttered.

You smiled.

Ten minutes later, you rolled off him and collapsed beside him on the bed like nothing happened. He lay very still, face turned away, ears flushed pink.

You stretched with a content sigh. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

He muttered something you didn’t catch.

You turned your head toward him, smirking to yourself as he fumbled for his hoodie and refused to meet your eyes.

He didn’t say it, but you knew.

You’d started something.

⸻

It was freezing outside, but your apartment was always too warm.

Well—that’s what you told him.

The truth was simpler. You didn’t want to layer up when Seungmin was around. You didn’t need a bra under your soft, thin cotton shirts. And you definitely didn’t care that it was the middle of winter when your nipples pressed visibly against the fabric, catching the light like a fucking weapon.

Seungmin knocked on your door like he always did—three quick taps, followed by a dramatic sigh when you didn’t answer right away.

You opened the door in one of your old college shirts. It hung loose off your shoulder and just barely covered the top of your thighs.

“Dude,” he groaned, stepping inside with a gust of wind behind him. “Do you not believe in heat? It’s like Antarctica outside.”

You closed the door and shrugged. “I run warm.”

He turned around to respond—but paused.

Eyes. Chest. Eyes again.

You pretended not to notice.

He cleared his throat. “You’re not cold?”

You blinked. “Nope. Why?”

His jaw ticked. “No reason.”

He followed you into the living room like a man possessed, already taking off his jacket. You flopped onto the couch, legs tucked under you, phone in hand. He sat a little too far away for best friends, eyes fixed on the TV, posture painfully upright.

You stretched.

Not dramatically. Just enough to raise your arms, to arch your back, to make the fabric slide up your thighs and tighten across your chest.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught it—his sharp inhale. The way his hands curled into fists on his lap. How he shifted just slightly, like he couldn’t find a comfortable position.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

“You good?” you asked innocently.

“Me? Yeah. Fine.”

But his voice cracked a little.

You slid closer, under the guise of sharing a blanket. Your bare leg brushed his thigh. You saw the way he tensed. How he didn’t move away.

“I think you’re cold,” you murmured, pressing your body against his. “You’re shaking.”

He let out a soft, strangled laugh. “I’m not.”

“Then why are you so tense?”

“Because,” he said, finally turning to you, voice low and tight, “you keep forgetting to wear a damn bra, and I’m a guy, not a monk.”

You blinked up at him.

Silence.

Then you smiled. Sweet. Coy. Wicked.

“We’re best friends, Seungmin.”

He stared at you.

And you?

You curled up beside him again, laid your head on his shoulder, and let your nipple graze his arm like a silent fuck you.

He didn’t speak for the rest of the movie.

But you felt his pulse—racing under your palm when you took his hand later, like everything was still perfectly innocent.

⸻

You always tried it at movie night.

Popcorn. Blankets. A stupid horror movie that you’d pretend to be scared of just to curl up in Seungmin’s lap. He’d roll his eyes, toss a comment about how you were the worst, but he never pushed you off.

Not once.

That night, he arrived in his usual hoodie and sweats, hair still damp from a post-gym shower. You opened the door in the tiniest cotton sleep shorts known to mankind and a faded crop top with a neckline that dipped far too low to be innocent.

His eyes did a quick up-down scan before he looked away. “Are you even wearing pants?”

“Barely,” you said, walking away with a shrug.

He didn’t answer.

He never did. I

You waited until you were halfway through the movie before curling into his side. First your shoulder against his. Then your thigh draped over his lap. His muscles tensed like clockwork—every time, without fail—but he didn’t move.

Your head dropped to his shoulder. You exhaled softly, letting your hand slide up to rest on his chest.

He stayed perfectly still.

You closed your eyes, and smiled.

You “fell asleep” sometime after midnight.

In reality, you were very much awake—especially when you felt his hand hovering awkwardly near your hip, unsure of where to rest. You were practically on top of him, pressed flush against his side, one leg tangled between his, your chest smushed against his ribs.

You could feel everything.

The tight line of tension running through his body.

The way his breath stuttered when you shifted in your “sleep.”

And… yeah. You could feel that too.

You shifted again—just slightly. A slow grind of your hips as you turned in his arms. Your thigh brushed something dangerous, and you swore you heard him gasp.

You waited for him to pull away.

He didn’t.

You could feel his heart hammering in his chest, hard and fast. You exhaled against his neck, lips just grazing his skin.

He flinched.

Still, he said nothing.

In the morning, you “woke up” with a stretch and a yawn, like you hadn’t spent the night dry-humping your best friend’s thigh under the guise of innocent cuddling.

“Did you sleep okay?” you asked sweetly.

He got out of bed without looking at you, muttered something about needing a shower, and disappeared into the bathroom.

You could still see the outline of him in his sweats.

He was very awake.

⸻

Seungmin had this stupid habit of crashing at your place after a long day.

Sometimes with takeout. Sometimes with his laptop and a hoodie slung over one shoulder. Sometimes, like tonight, he brought nothing at all—just himself in gray sweatpants and a fitted black tee that should’ve been illegal.

“I’m using your shower,” he called over his shoulder as he kicked off his sneakers. “Your water pressure’s better.”

You leaned on the kitchen counter, eyes raking over his back. “Help yourself. You know where everything is.”

He didn’t hear the way your voice dropped when you said it.

He didn’t see the way you bit your lip when his shirt lifted as he stretched, exposing a sliver of toned stomach.

Ten minutes later, he walked out in nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, steam trailing behind him, hair dripping onto his shoulders.

“Forgot my bag in your room,” he mumbled, heading straight past you.

You didn’t stop him.

Didn’t offer a spare shirt.

Didn’t look away.

He returned in your favorite pair of his sweats and a hoodie that somehow did nothing to hide the curve of his chest or the flex of his forearms. He plopped onto the couch beside you, hair still damp, smelling like your body wash.

Your thighs touched. He didn’t move.

You flipped to the next episode of your show, pretending your skin wasn’t tingling everywhere he brushed against you.

Then your feet ended up in his lap.

Innocently, of course.

He stared at them for a second, frozen, then settled his hands on your calves. His thumbs traced idle circles—subconscious, mindless, dangerous.

You bit back a shiver. “That tickles.”

He stopped. “Sorry.”

“Didn’t say I wanted you to stop.”

He looked up.

Your gaze locked.

The air shifted.

You didn’t say anything else. Just laid your head back and let him keep touching you. Let him figure out whether he was comforting you or feeling you up. Let his hands drag a little too high, just under the hem of your shorts.

You could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. His leg bounced once. Then again. Then he let out a long, slow breath and moved your legs off him.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” he muttered.

You smiled lazily. “Mine or yours?”

He looked at you. Eyes dark. Jaw tight.

He said nothing.

Just left the room.

And you swore—just swore—you heard him muttering a prayer under his breath.

—-

Seungmin already looked uncomfortable when you dragged him into Victoria’s Secret. The store smelled like sugar and sin, and he stood out like a sore thumb—tall, stiff, silent, trying not to make eye contact with a single mannequin.

You were glowing.

“This is cute, right?” you asked, holding up a deep wine-red lace set—strappy, sheer, the kind of thing no one wore to sleep unless they wanted to be devoured.

He blinked. “It’s… sure. Yeah. Cute.”

“You didn’t even look,” you teased, pouting slightly as you headed toward the changing room. “Be honest with me, Minnie. That’s what best friends are for.”

He sat down on the little bench outside the fitting rooms like he was awaiting trial.

You emerged in the first set.

It was all lace—deep burgundy, semi-sheer, with triangle cups that left nothing to the imagination. The panties were minimal, strappy on the sides, clinging to the curves of your hips like they were sewn on. You’d left your hair messy, lips glossy, and your eyes locked on him when you stepped out barefoot onto the plush carpet.

His entire body went still.

“Thoughts?” you asked, turning slowly to show the back—where the straps dipped dangerously low across your spine.

He blinked once. Twice.

Then swallowed. “It’s, uh…”

You walked closer. “Too much?”

“No. Not— not too much.” He sounded strangled. “It’s just…”

You leaned in like you couldn’t quite hear. “It’s just what?”

He looked at you like he was fighting for his life. “We’re in public,” he hissed under his breath.

You smiled.

“I’ll try another.”

The second set was worse.

So much worse.

Black satin. High-cut thong. Delicate mesh cups that teased at opacity but left your nipples perfectly visible in the right light. The garter belt cinched your waist. The matching choker clasped at your throat.

You looked like a fantasy someone wasn’t allowed to say out loud.

When you stepped out the second time, Seungmin actually stood up—too fast. Like something broke.

His eyes dragged over you once, from the tops of your thighs to your barely-covered chest to the glinting clip around your neck.

His throat bobbed.

You turned again, slow and smooth, letting him see everything.

“So?” you asked, lips pouted in faux innocence. “Would you be honest now?”

He didn’t say anything.

He just stared.

Unblinking.

Unmoving.

You stepped closer—soft, quiet steps until you were standing in front of him in nothing but satin and lust.

“I trust your taste,” you murmured, fingers brushing his forearm. “You always know what looks good on me.”

He exhaled like he’d been underwater too long.

“I think,” he said lowly, voice thick and dangerous, “you’re playing a very dangerous game right now.”

You tilted your head. “What game?”

“The one where you walk around like that, looking at me like that, saying shit like that—like you don’t know exactly what the fuck you’re doing to me.”

Your stomach flipped.

“Every night,” he muttered. “Every time you touch me. Crawl into my laps. Walk around in those tiny shorts, no bra, all soft and sleepy and warm. And now this?”

His eyes raked over you again. He shook his head like he couldn’t believe any of it was real.

“You’re gonna get yourself fucked,” he whispered. “And not gently.”

Silence.

Then, just as suddenly, he stepped back.

“I’m leaving.”

Your breath caught. “Seungmin—”

“Before I lose control. Before I stop caring that you’re pretending this is normal.”

He turned and walked out of the store without another word.

You stood there trembling, skin hot, still in the black lingerie that had pushed your best friend to the brink of feral rage and sexual implosion.

He was running.

And now? You were chasing.

—

You didn’t expect him to say it.

Not like that.

Not with heat in his voice and warning in his eyes and a low growl in his throat like he’d been holding it back for months.

You had been teasing.

Playing.

Flirting with the edge of something wicked because it was fun. Because he was your best friend and he never said anything, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

He was always so soft.

Puppy Seungmin. Chill Seungmin. Safe Seungmin.

Until he wasn’t.

Until Victoria’s Secret.

Until he looked at you in that black satin set and told you—told you—that he knew.

And worse:

That if you kept it up, he was going to fuck you.

Hard.

Like you weren’t his best friend at all.

And then he left.

He left you standing half-naked and breathless and undone.

And now?

He won’t even look at you.

He started avoiding you immediately.

Late replies. Closed doors. Canceled plans.

He wasn’t mean. Just distant.

You came over to watch your show? He “had homework.”

You texted something flirty? He liked it—but didn’t respond.

You asked if he wanted food? “Already ate.”

He stopped crashing at your place.

Stopped falling asleep beside you.

Stopped letting his thigh brush yours like it didn’t mean anything.

And every time you saw him, you could feel it in the air.

Something thick and charged and dangerous.

Like a storm crouched on the horizon.

⸻

You found him on campus.

Outside one of the side buildings, earbuds in, head down, walking like he had somewhere important to be even though he very much did not.

“Minnie?.”

He paused. Didn’t turn.

“Seungmin,” you said again, stepping in front of him this time. “Are you really ignoring me now?”

He tugged one earbud out, looked past you like you weren’t even standing there.

“You’ve been weird all week.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Cut the crap.”

He sighed—like you were exhausting him—and finally looked down at you.

You were wearing your little white tennis skirt. The one that barely hid anything when the wind hit just right. Your top was cropped and ribbed and soft, your nipples faintly visible beneath the fabric. Nothing intentional. Nothing illegal. Just… you being you.

And that’s what made it so much worse.

“You want me to pretend?”

Your heart skipped. “What?”

“You want me to pretend you didn’t walk out in that fucking lingerie looking like you wanted me to drop to my knees right there? You want me to pretend like I haven’t been losing my mind every goddamn time you touch me, every time you look at me, every time you sit in my lap like it’s nothing?”

You stared, breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not stupid,” he said, stepping closer. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And I let it happen. Because I kept telling myself it was innocent. That you were just being you.”

His eyes dropped to your chest—just for a second. Just enough.

“But then you walked out in that second set. The black one. And I realized it wasn’t innocent. You were daring me. And if I stayed one more second, I was gonna take you right there in that changing room.”

You should’ve said something.

You should’ve stopped looking at him like that.

But your mouth was dry and your thighs were clenched and your heart was in your throat.

So he shook his head and turned again.

“I’m not avoiding you,” he said quietly. “I’m protecting you. Because the next time you test me like that…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

He walked away, leaving you in the hallway shaking—hot and cold and soaked through with the memory of his voice, his stare, his confession.

—

You weren’t proud of it.

You hadn’t meant for it to go that far.

The lingerie, the teasing, the bedroom eyes—it was always a game.

Until he broke the rules.

Until he said it.

Until he told you how badly he wanted to ruin you.

And now?

Now you couldn’t stop hearing it. Couldn’t stop seeing the way his jaw clenched when he looked at you. Couldn’t stop feeling the tension that had been boiling beneath your friendship like a livewire all this time.

You didn’t plan to go to his place.

But your feet brought you there anyway.

He didn’t answer the door at first.

Probably debating whether he should see you at all.

But then it cracked open, and there he was—bare chest, low sweatpants, damp hair, glowing with the heat of a recent shower.

And there you were—nervous, unsure, but still dressed like a fucking menace in that oversized hoodie and the tiniest sleep shorts you owned.

“Can I come in?” you asked, voice soft.

He exhaled. Tired. Guarded. “Yeah.”

You stepped inside.

His room was quiet. Dark. Intimate.

And he sat back down on the edge of his bed like he didn’t want to look at you for too long.

You hovered awkwardly. “I… I wanted to say sorry.”

His brows lifted. “For what?”

You hesitated. “For pushing too far. The lingerie thing. The teasing. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gave you a long, unreadable stare.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he said finally. “You made me hard.”

Your pulse skipped. He didn’t even blink as he said it.

“But,” he added lowly, “I meant what I said. I can’t keep being around you if you keep pretending this is normal. I’m trying not to fuck you. That’s not easy when you look at me like you want me to do it.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Because the second he lay back on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, eyes closed and jaw clenched—like he was exhausted by the very thought of you—

You moved.

Climbed onto the mattress like it was yours. Crawled across it slow and quiet until you were behind him.

And then you slipped your arms around his torso.

Pressed your chest to his bare back.

Rested your cheek between his shoulder blades.

He went rigid. Tensed under you.

But you whispered against his skin, “I’m sorry…”

And kissed his back.

Soft.

Sweet.

Just below the base of his neck.

He didn’t breathe.

“I’ll be good,” you murmured, kissing the curve of his spine.

Still no reaction.

“Don’t stay mad,” you whispered, lips ghosting the edge of his shoulder.

Then—snap.

He grabbed your wrists.

And flipped.

In one motion, he turned and pinned you to the bed beneath him—arms over your head, his body caging yours, hair falling into his eyes and rage simmering low in his voice.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he demanded, voice hoarse.

You blinked up at him, speechless, thighs clenched.

“I’m not gonna ask again,” he growled. “You get one chance to answer me right. What the fuck do you want?”

His voice was low. Frayed.

His grip was bruising your wrists, but you couldn’t move—not even a little.

He was on top of you, his thigh between yours, the hard line of his cock pressed tight to your core through layers of sinful nothing. Your tiny shorts. Your no-panties boldness. His loose grey sweats. His bare chest heaving with restraint.

You could feel every inch of him.

His hand was pinning both your wrists above your head, one handed, like you weighed nothing.

“Because I’m done pretending I don’t want to fuck you, and if you say the wrong thing right now…”

He lowered his head until his lips brushed your ear. “…I’ll stop trying.”

“So. What do you want from me?” he asked again.

And you— You whimpered.

Like a bad little slut.

Eyes wide. Lips parted. Back arching under him without even realizing it.

You didn’t answer with words.

You didn’t need to.

Your body said everything.

The way your thighs rubbed together.

The way you stared at his mouth like you wanted it on every inch of your skin.

The way you breathed like he already had you split open and moaning his name.

Seungmin’s jaw locked.

And that was it.

That was all it took.

Something in him snapped.

He let go of your wrists—and his hand dropped straight to your throat.

Not squeezing. Just resting. A threat. A warning.

“You like playing games?” he muttered, eyes dark and jaw clenched. “You like walking around teasing me like I don’t see it? Acting like this is normal?”

His palm dragged slowly down your chest—over the hoodie that still clung to you, over your aching nipples pressing hard against the fabric. Then he hooked his fingers in the hem, yanked it up, and groaned when he found you bare beneath it.

“Fucking course you’re not wearing a bra,” he growled, rubbing his thumb across your nipple, watching you squirm. “You never do. You wanted this. Didn’t you?”

You gasped. “Seungmin—”

“Say it.”

You whined under him.

“Say it, or I stop.”

“I wanted it,” you whispered, eyes pleading. “I wanted you.”

That’s all he needed.

He crashed down and kissed you—filthy, like he was trying to erase every second of self-control he’d ever shown you.

And when he pulled your shorts down and shoved his knee between your legs?

He didn’t pretend anymore.

He didn’t stop.

And he didn’t hold back.

The second he kissed you—really kissed you—there was no going back.

It wasn’t sweet.

It wasn’t soft.

It was filthy.

Seungmin kissed you like he was mad at you. Like you’d done something unspeakable.

Like you’d been a bad girl—his bad girl—and this was how he planned to punish you.

He shoved the hoodie off your shoulders and let his hands roam.

Everywhere.

Your chest, your waist, your thighs. His palms were hot, rough with calluses from the gym, fingers spreading your legs wide and slipping under your shorts like he already knew what he’d find.

“No panties too?” he muttered, dragging his fingers through your wetness with a broken groan. “Of course you didn’t wear fucking panties.”

You were soaked—slick and swollen and throbbing for him.

He didn’t tease.

Didn’t warm you up.

He plunged two fingers inside you and kissed you deeper when you cried out, one hand sliding back to pin your wrists again as he pumped you open.

“Look at you,” he whispered, dragging his mouth down your jaw. “So wet. So fucking needy.”

You whimpered, arching into him, thighs trembling.

“You like being under me?” he growled. “Like when I hold you down like this?”

You nodded frantically.

“Use your words.”

“Yes—yes, Seungmin, I love it—”

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” he snarled. “All those little games. You wanted me to fuck you.”

You moaned. “Please—please—”

And then he was gone.

You gasped at the loss, barely catching your breath as he shoved his sweats down and wrapped a fist around his cock—thick, flushed, angry red at the tip. Veins along the side. A bead of precum already sliding down.

He lined himself up with your entrance, gritting his teeth as he pushed just the tip in.

You shattered.

“Seungmin—!”

“Look at me.”

You did.

He stared down at you with his hand still around your wrists, his hips rolling slowly, inch by devastating inch—until he was buried so deep inside you, you couldn’t breathe.

“Feel that?” he whispered.

You nodded, tears prickling in your lashes.

“That’s not your best friend.”

And then he snapped his hips into yours—and all you saw was white.

The first thrust knocked the breath out of you.

Not just because of his size, but because of the way he looked at you—like every ounce of restraint he’d shown for the past year had finally snapped and now he was going to make you regret every single moment you played innocent while dripping in sin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, bottoming out again. “So fucking tight. You were made for this.”

Your back arched off the mattress, the stretch nearly too much. His cock dragged against every oversensitive spot inside you, nudging your cervix, owning you in ways no one ever had.

“You been thinking about this?” he gritted, voice dark as his hips slammed into yours. “Touching yourself in your little dorm bed, thinking about your best friend fucking you like a slut?”

You whimpered—nothing coherent—just a mess of yes and please and Seungmin.

He didn’t stop.

He didn’t even slow down.

He was already sweat-slicked, breathing hard, pinning your wrists above your head like he’d die before letting you go.

And when he pulled out just enough to slap the tip against your clit, you squealed.

“Oh my god—!”

“You like that?” he sneered. “You want me to make you cum like this? Beg for it.”

“Please—please—”

“No.” He slapped your inner thigh. “Beg right.”

“Seungmin, please fuck me harder. I wanna cum on your cock—want you to ruin me—”

That was all it took.

He growled—a deep, feral sound—and pounded into you again, hard enough to shake the bed.

Your eyes rolled back.

His grip tightened around your throat, just enough to make your head spin as he leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“You asked for this,” he snarled. “Now take it.”

You came violently, thighs locking around him as your whole body spasmed beneath his. He fucked you through it—chasing his own high now, cock twitching, slamming into you over and over until—

“Shit—fuck—” he choked, and pulled out just in time to paint your stomach with thick, hot ropes of cum.

You laid there, dazed. Legs trembling. Mind shattered.

And Seungmin?

He looked at you like you’d flipped his world inside out.

“Fuck—fuck,” Seungmin growled, the words gritted through his teeth like they hurt to say. “Look what you fucking made me do.”

His voice was wrecked. Deep. Raw with emotion.

You were shaking beneath him, your legs still trembling from your last orgasm, your body completely limp, skin glistening with sweat and cum and tears. But he wasn’t done.

He couldn’t stop.

Not even if he wanted to.

He was already hard again.

Already sliding back between your legs, pushing your thighs wide as your fingers curled in the sheets. Your stomach and chest were a mess—covered in his first release, his fingerprints bruised into your hips and arms, and your wrists? Still red from his earlier grip.

“Shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered under his breath. “Shouldn’t fucking want this.”

But he was already inside you.

No warning this time—just the stretch, the pain-pleasure burn of his cock shoving deep into your soaked cunt like he owned it now. Like he’d already decided this body, this pussy, this mess was his to destroy.

“Fucking made me this way,” he snarled, voice breaking. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Walking around in those little tops, rubbing up on me every fucking chance you got—no bra in winter? You think I didn’t notice?”

Your head was spinning.

He was already moving again—hard, fast, deep, his hips slamming into yours with punishing thrusts that had the whole bed creaking. And still—still—he held your throat in one hand and your thigh in the other, forcing you open.

“You played with me,” he groaned. “You pushed and pushed—made me lose my fucking mind—”

His hips snapped forward. You cried out, nails raking down his back. You couldn’t even answer. Couldn’t speak. Your eyes were rolling back, mouth open in a silent scream as he hit the spot perfectly with every brutal thrust.

“You like this?” he growled. “Being ruined by your best friend?”

You nodded through tears, a wreck under him.

“You like when I choke you?”

His hand tightened around your throat. You gasped, grinding up to meet his thrusts.

“You like being spanked, yeah?”

He flipped you over like you weighed nothing and smacked your ass—hard—his palm leaving a red sting that had you clenching around nothing. And then he slammed back in, making you sob into the sheets.

“Is this what you wanted?” he hissed into your ear. “You wanted me obsessed with you?”

He reached down, wrapped your hair around his fist, and yanked your head back to kiss you—sloppy, desperate, spit-slick and heated.

“I’m never fucking letting you go now.”

Your cheek was pressed into the sheets, ass arched high, legs shaking uncontrollably as Seungmin relentlessly fucked you from behind.

His hand was tangled in your hair. His other hand was at your throat again, pulling you back into him with every deep, punishing thrust.

“Mine,” he gritted out. “You’re fucking mine.”

You didn’t even know what you were moaning anymore—his name, maybe, or just some pathetic cry for more. But it didn’t matter. Your body knew. You were dripping down your thighs, already on the edge again, too full, too overstimulated, too wrecked to make sense of it.

And then—he stopped.

You gasped—outraged, ruined.

Seungmin grabbed you, flipped you onto your back again, and looked down at you like he wanted to crawl inside your skin.

His chest was heaving, his jaw clenched, his face twisted in some devastating combination of guilt and obsession.

“I can’t stop,” he whispered.

You blinked, lips parted.

“I should,” he said, leaning down, pressing his forehead to yours. “But I can’t. I’ve wanted you for too long. You made me crazy.”

You whimpered. “Then don’t stop.”

His eyes darkened.

You said it again—softer, filthier.

“Don’t stop, Seungmin… Please.”

And that broke him.

His mouth crashed into yours—finally—and it was not sweet. It was all teeth and tongue, all desperation and heat and frustration and want. He kissed you like he hated you. Like you ruined him. Like he was trying to breathe you in before you disappeared.

And when he slid back inside you?

It was slower. Deeper. More devastating.

His forehead pressed to yours. His mouth hovered above yours, catching every little moan. His hand slid under your thigh to pin it high on his waist, angling you perfectly so he could thrust in deep, again and again, until tears spilled from your eyes.

“You feel that?” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “Feel how good I fit inside you?”

You nodded, dazed.

“You’re gonna cum again, baby. Right on this cock. I wanna feel you lose it.”

You were already there.

You clenched around him—tight, desperate—and his groan was inhuman.

He didn’t even try to hold back this time.

His thrusts turned frantic, mindless, and when you came—screaming his name into his neck, body convulsing—he followed. Deep inside you this time, filling you with everything he had, his mouth open in a stunned groan as his body shuddered above yours.

He collapsed on top of you—still inside, still panting—and whispered the softest, most ruined confession against your throat.

“Fuck. I’m so in love with you.”

The room went quiet.

The only sound was your breathing—shaky, shallow—and Seungmin’s heart pounding hard against your chest as he laid there on top of you, his face buried in your neck, arms locked around you like he still couldn’t believe it happened.

Neither could you.

But you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t even think.

Your body was too sore, too used, too full of everything he gave you.

Still, your mouth moved without permission.

“Seungmin…”

Soft. Croaky. Barely a whisper.

He didn’t lift his head. Just held you tighter.

You tried again—more broken this time.

“Seungmin—baby…”

That did it.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes bloodshot, lips kiss-swollen, hair a complete mess. He looked like he’d been through hell. Like he’d dragged himself through fire just to get to you.

And now he was scared to look at what he burned down.

“You didn’t mean to say that,” you whispered, touching his cheek with trembling fingers.

His jaw clenched.

But he didn’t deny it.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that,” he rasped. “But yeah. I meant it.”

You just stared at him. For a long moment.

And then… a crooked, devastated smile tugged at your lips.

“You’re so dumb.”

He blinked.

“You didn’t even realize it, did you?” you murmured, brushing your nose against his. “I started all of this the moment you started hitting the gym. The moment you started looking like this. I’ve been losing my mind over you. Every day. Every fucking day.”

Seungmin’s breath caught.

You tilted your head. Bit your lip.

“I didn’t mean to fall for you, either.”

And then you kissed him.

Slow. Deep. A little messy.

Not because it was rushed. But because it meant something.

And he kissed you back like he was never going to stop.

When you finally broke apart, his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I should’ve said it sooner,” he whispered.

You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair.

“You say it every time you look at me, stupid. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

He dropped his head to your chest with a groan, and you giggled, wrapping your arms around him.

And that was it.

No drama.

No denial.

Just two best friends who finally got too close to the line—and realized they belonged way past it all along.

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

Authors note: ok so i might be obsessed with the bestfriends trope… sue me 🥹 but this seungmin is in my headddddddd!!!!!!

You know the drill babes, drop that like and comment and be sure to reblogggggg! I love you guys!

[m0ri-apeuda]

when you’re feeling too much love to fit into your heart hand

[m0ri-apeuda]

Look at me like that again

Kim Seungmin x afab!Reader

⤷ Smut [MDNI]

⤷ WC - 0.9k

⤷ CW - dom!Seungmin, dacryphilia, oral sex (f.rec), fingering (f.rec), praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

You call Seungmin pretty once—he makes you cry it into the sheets

⤷ That middle picture brought me to my knees this morning... and theeennnn this happened♡ [this is kind proof read... just kinda]

⋆｡‧˚ʚ Masterlist ɞ˚‧｡⋆

You're not even sure when he shoved your panties to the side, only that he’s ruined them now, soaked through with your slick and his spit. They’re still caught around one ankle as your legs tremble, hooked over his shoulders, ankles crossed behind his back to keep him right there.

But that’s not what gets you.

Not the tongue — though that’s working you open with slow, excruciating precision. 

Not the hands — though they’re holding your thighs apart like you’re something to be studied. 

No.

It’s his eyes.

It’s the way they don’t waver.

Sharp. Dark. Locked on yours like he dares you to look away.

“Minnie—” your voice breaks. “You look so fucking pretty like that.” His eyebrows lift, just a little.

“You do,” you choke out. “God, your eyes—keep looking at me. Don’t stop.” He groans, deep and ragged, like he’s getting off on the praise alone. The vibrations shoot through you.

He keeps his mouth on you, blinking up at you with those dark, burning eyes while he traces soft figure eights around your clit, then he pulls back—only long enough to let a long strand of spit fall from his mouth and land right on your swollen clit. You gasp, hips bucking but he presses you back down, fingers splayed over the plush of your thigh. 

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, quiet. Dangerous.

You nod, breathless, wrecked.

“You like the way I look between your legs, baby?”

“Y-yeah, I—fuck, I love it—”

“Say it again.” He licks a stripe up your cunt, coaxing the words out of you while those fucking eyes stare up, surveying the way your brow furrows and lips part. 

“You’re so—fuck—you’re so pretty, Minnie. You look so good between my legs.” He pulls back only long enough to murmur, “You wanna come while I look at you like this? While I eat your pussy and you cry about how pretty I am?”

You whimper. That’s all he needs.

His hands lock tighter on your thighs, pushing them wider, and he devours you. Tongue fucking, lips sucking, pace quickening until all you can do is hold on. Your fingers thread through his hair, back arching off the ruffled sheets and you sob. Every time you look down, his gaze is there — hot, wild, completely locked on you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re crying?” You try to cover your face but Seungmin is quicker, he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head. “Uh-uh. Don’t hide. Let me see.”

His fingers slip in, press up and curl. “That’s it, baby,” he sets a brutal pace from the start, lewd sounds echo and mix with pathetic whines and gasps. Seungmin leans in and kisses your tears away.

“Oh, she’s gone, huh?” he grins, cocky and hot before going back down and slipping his fingers out of you. He lands a soft slap to your cunt and you jolt, crying out his name. “My baby is wrecked, isn’t she?”

He spits directly onto your cunt—warm, thick—and watches it drip down to your hole before licking it back up with a groan that sounds inhuman

“This pussy's so wet for me,” he mutters, nose bumping your clit. “All this cause you think I’m pretty? Just a couple looks and now you’re begging to come on my face.”

“Seungmin—” he slurps, it’s obscene.

“You’re shaking,” he rasps against your clit. “You gonna cry harder for me, baby? You wanna cry while I make you come all over my fucking face?”

You sob something that might be “yes,” might be “fuck,” might just be your soul leaving your body.

“Good girl,” he growls, sucking your clit between his lips then pulling back, “Cry, then. Show me what that pretty face looks like when you lose your fucking mind.”

And you do.

Your orgasm rips through you like a scream, like a full-body confession, thighs convulsing around his head as you wail. He keeps going—grinding his tongue into you, licking through your orgasm like he’s trying to push you into another. Your body tries to jerk away, but he doesn’t let you.

“Oh, no,” he says, voice hoarse, face soaked. “You're not done. You don't come once and expect me to stop.”

He flattens his tongue again, licks a broad stripe up your slit. You sob, raw.

“S-seungmin, please, please—I can’t”

“God, I love when you beg.” He pressed his face back in. “You can,” he hisses. “You will.” His fingers slip back in, dragging out your climax to impossible heights. You arch, squirm, try to fight it but all it takes is one hand pressing down on your lower stomach to keep you in place.

“I want you ruined. Wanna keep you here all night. Just like this. Pretty little mess crying on my tongue.” Your second orgasm blinds you, hitting and crashing like a wave you never stood a chance against. You’re arching again, sobs clawing their way out of your throat as you shatter, twitching through it while he moans like he was getting off on your taste alone.

And still—he doesn’t stop.

“Too much?” he murmurs, licking through your aftershocks. “Then cry harder.”

His fingers work you open while he kisses up your stomach, dragging his spit-slick mouth along your skin, all heat and menace. The squelching of come and spit is nearly louder than your cries, or your heart hammering in your ears while you fight to catch your breath.

He kisses you—filthy, open-mouthed, forcing you to taste yourself, then he whispers against your lips

“Next time you call me pretty, I’m going to make you come until you pass out. Got it?”

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[m0ri-apeuda]

Hey I have request for loki x reader where she says her safe word during really rough yk….any fluff really! Thank you smm

Title: Because You Said It

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Summary:  What starts as an intense scene with Loki quickly turns into something overwhelming. But when you use your safeword, Loki drops everything to take care of you. In his arms, you’re never just a plaything, you’re his everything.

Word Count:  2.3k

Warnings: /Explicit Content / 18+, Minors DNI, Smut, Safe Word Use, Soft Dom Loki,  Aftercare, Hurt-Comfort, Rough sex, Fluff,

   A/N:  Hope this is ok.... Your back hit the mattress with a soft thud, wrists pinned above your head, Loki's magic a shimmering tether that held you in place, firm, binding, unyielding. His weight settled over your hips, body a perfect cage, mouth at your throat, biting, teasing, marking. His teeth grazed and sank with calculated cruelty, each scrape pulling a whimper from your lips, every bruise he left a dark, aching promise that you were his to ruin and worship.

"Such a beautiful thing when you beg," he purred against your skin, voice a rumble of velvet smoke that sent shivers down your spine. His tongue traced a slow, possessive line up your throat before his lips brushed your ear. "But tonight, I don't want your words. I want your surrender."

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, eyes dark with hunger and intent. "I want to break you open completely," he said, and his tone held reverence, not cruelty. "I want to take you apart piece by piece until you're trembling and raw and mine in every way."

His hips pressed forward in a slow, grinding roll that made your breath stutter. "I want all of it. Every gasp, every cry, every broken edge of you- offered to me like worship."

His lips ghosted over your pulse point, voice lowering further. "And when there’s nothing left but the pieces you give me, I’ll hold them. I’ll rebuild you."

The weight of his promise settled over you like silk and iron, both terrifying and comforting. You trembled under him, knowing you were about to be undone.

Your breath caught. Your lips parted to respond, but you simply nodded, trembling with anticipation. Eyes wide and glassy with arousal, your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum. He kissed your forehead, a fleeting, tender press that contrasted the feral hunger burning in his eyes. Fingers hooked in the band of your underwear, dragging them down with rough impatience, letting the cool air lick across flushed skin already tingling with need.

The first thrust had you gasping, back arching violently as the air punched out of your lungs. The second drove a helpless cry from your throat, a sound that echoed around the room like a prayer and a plea all at once. The third, deep and unrelenting. It knocked the breath clean from your lungs and left you reeling, vision blurring at the edges.

He was relentless.

The rhythm he set was brutal, merciless, each movement powered by something primal and possessive. His hips crashed into yours with bone-rattling force, again and again, as though he was trying to carve himself into your very being. Each thrust jolted through you like a lightning strike, turning your spine to fire. His hands clamped down on your waist, bruising, possessive, dragging you down into every punishing stroke until your body was trembling under the pressure.

You were folded beneath him, legs forced wide, your body moulded to the shape of his demands. His chest heaved with exertion above you, sweat slicked between your bodies, his hair falling wild around his face like a dark halo. Magic crackled along your skin, electricity buzzing under your flesh in rhythm with his thrusts, burning, thrilling, overwhelming.

The sounds between you were obscene. Wet. Sharp. Rhythmic and raw. Every gasp, every cry, every desperate plea was swallowed by the heavy air. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard knocking softly with each violent push.

He growled something in a language older than time, the syllables guttural and fierce, his voice ragged and deep with possession. “Mine,” he snarled, each syllable like iron dragged across silk. “This- all of you- mine to take. Mine to ruin. Mine to rebuild.”

You tried to keep up, to stay grounded, to stay present, but each thrust shoved you further from yourself. You were unraveling, each brutal snap of his hips shoving you further out of your body. Your hands strained uselessly against the binds, muscles aching from tension, your voice caught between moans, gasps, and the broken sound of surrender. Every inch of you was overstimulated, nerves screaming, your core tightening to a painful point.

His grip on your hips was bruising, holding you still while he fucked you through your own shattering limits. Your eyes fluttered, rolling back as your legs kicked weakly, searching for a foothold, a tether, anything. But there was only him. Only this.

It was too much. Too deep. Too fast. Your mouth dropped open in a silent cry, pleasure and panic tangling together like wires in your chest. The edges of sensation blurred into something razor-sharp, something almost frightening. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, drowning out everything but the sound of him claiming you. Your mind screamed for him, pleaded for him, but your voice faltered, lost beneath the rising tide of sensation.

You whimpered, a broken noise, tried again, louder this time, voice shaking, tears catching in your throat as your body trembled beneath him.

You had to say it. You needed to.

"Moonlight."

Everything stopped.

Loki froze instantly - not a moment of hesitation. The second the word left your lips, everything shifted. His eyes flew to your face, and panic surged beneath the thick layer of lust that had clouded them just moments before. One hand flew to your cheek, cupping it with trembling fingers, while the other steadied you by the waist. The magical restraints blinked out of existence with a faint shimmer, and your arms fell free, immediately cradled against your chest.

He leaned back, just enough to give you breathing room, his chest rising and falling too fast, like he’d just realized how far gone he’d been. His expression flickered, fury at himself, guilt, a gut-wrenching vulnerability that few ever got to see. The hunger in his features drained away, leaving only the echo of it clinging to the edges of a horror he could barely voice.

"Darling? Are you alright? Did I- did I hurt you?"

His voice was tight, like it caught in his throat on the way out. It wasn't Loki the god speaking. It was Loki the man, the one who held every shard of your safety like a sacred oath.

You nodded quickly, breath still coming in uneven bursts. Tears had welled at the corners of your eyes, not from pain but from sheer overwhelm. You reached for him instinctively, brushing your fingers against his forearm.

"I'm okay," you whispered hoarsely. "I just... I needed to say it before it was too much."

Without another word, he moved. Not rushed, but deliberate. He gathered you into his arms, pulling you against his chest with a gentleness that belied his strength. One arm wrapped tightly around your middle while the other smoothed over your spine, up and down in long, steady strokes meant to ground and soothe.

His lips brushed the crown of your head. "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice raw and cracking. "I should have seen the signs. I pushed too hard. I lost track of you."

You shook your head against his chest. "You stopped," you said, barely above a whisper. "That’s what matters. That’s why we have it. I trusted you to stop, and you did."

He pulled you even closer, chin resting atop your head, breath warm in your hair. His grip tightened—not out of desperation, but to reinforce his promise. The hunger from before had vanished, replaced by an overwhelming protectiveness that radiated from him like magic.

"You were perfect," he said, voice low and reverent. "So perfect. I lost myself, but you- you brought me back. With just one word. Gods, what would I do without that word... without you?"

The bath was already drawn when he carried you in his arms, one under your knees, the other wrapped securely around your back. This time, there was no magic, no teleportation. Just him. Steady and real. His footsteps were slow, careful, as though he feared jostling you might undo the fragile calm you were regaining.

"I'll take care of you," he murmured, his lips pressing softly to the top of your head, voice laced with devotion. "Let me make it right."

The water steamed gently, infused with lavender, chamomile, and something faintly citrus- your favorite blend. A calming combination, glowing faintly from the magic he’d imbued, but subtle, like a spell cast with love instead of power. The room was lit only by candlelight and the faint shimmer of rune-glow from the edges of the tub.

He stepped into the tub behind you, careful and composed, and lowered you carefully between his legs as though you were something fragile, newly made. You sank into him, your back against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, a deep exhale shuddering from your lungs. His arms folded around you briefly before one hand reached for the soap and the other cradled your jaw, guiding you gently.

His fingers moved with care, massaging your scalp, working shampoo through your hair with the gentleness of someone handling something sacred. His nails scraped lightly, grounding, and he murmured soft encouragements into your ear as he worked. He tilted your head back slightly, thumbs brushing behind your ears as warm water sluiced through your hair, rinsing away sweat and magic and remnants of strain. You could feel his breath near your temple, steady, grounding, and real in a way nothing else had felt all evening.

Even the steam seemed to wrap around the two of you like a blanket, like the bath itself had become a sanctuary he built for you to recover in. Every movement from him was reverent, quiet, but intended, as though he was worshiping, not washing.

“You did so well,” he murmured, his lips grazing your hairline as he spoke. “You let yourself go, you let me in. I saw all of you and you were beautiful.”

You let out a quiet sigh, eyes fluttering shut under the rhythm of his fingers.

“I’m so proud of you,” he continued, his voice softer than silk, wrapping around you like a second skin. “Not just for tonight. For trusting me. For knowing when to speak. For saying the word. That takes more strength than most people ever have.”

His fingers slowed, fingertips combing gently through your strands, letting the silence cradle the moment.

“You’re safe, love,” he whispered, placing a kiss just behind your ear. “Here, with me. Always. Nothing touches you without going through me first. Not pain. Not fear. Nothing.”

A soft shudder ran through you, but this time from comfort. Letting his hands and words soak into your bones.

He washed away sweat and tears, his touch never lingering too long, never crossing a boundary. Just enough to make you feel seen. Cherished.

When he gently washed between your thighs, he paused. His eyes searched your face.

"Better?"

"Yeah. That feels nice." You nodded, voice soft.

"Tell me if anything doesn’t," he said, so seriously you felt tears sting your eyes again.

After the bath, he helped you into one of his undershirts - impossibly soft, smelling like cedar and musk. He sat cross-legged behind you on the bed, towel draped over your shoulders, comb in hand.

He ran it gently through your hair, untangling every knot with infinite patience. You let out a small sigh as the tension left your body.

"Do you want a braid?"

"Yes, please."

He smiled, twisting strands between his fingers with a grace that spoke of years of practice. "Frigga used to braid mine, you know," he murmured, voice dipping into something softer, nostalgic. "She said it helped me focus. That sometimes, when the mind turns cruel and loud, the hands can soothe what the thoughts cannot."

He glanced down at the braid forming in his fingers, brushing a lock over your shoulder. "I didn’t believe her at first. Thought it was just something mothers said to keep restless sons calm. But later... I understood. There’s a kind of magic in the repetition, the care, the quiet of it."

His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "It became something I did when I needed to feel like myself again. When the chaos inside grew too loud."

The strands of your hair slipped through his fingers as he continued braiding, the rhythmic motion steady and grounding, not just for you but for him too.

You closed your eyes, letting the rhythm of his hands lull you into peace. Each tug of the braid soothed something inside you, and by the time he secured the end with a small band conjured from thin air, your muscles had gone soft and heavy. You leaned back against his chest for a moment, soaking in the warmth of his body and the feel of his arms wrapping around you.

When he finished, you turned in his lap, shifting to straddle him lazily, arms winding around his neck. He held you immediately, strong arms locking around your waist, pulling you flush to his chest as though he couldn’t bear a single inch between you.

His chin dipped to your shoulder, breath warming your skin. “You brought me back,” he murmured, voice thick. “The moment you said the word... it cut through everything. The haze, the hunger, I was gone, and then there you were.” His fingers splayed across your back, anchoring you. “I never want to be the reason you're afraid. Not even for a moment.”

Your fingertips stroked through the hair at the nape of his neck as you nuzzled into his collarbone. “You aren’t,” you whispered. “You're the reason I can say it. Because I know you'll always listen. Always catch me.”

He exhaled shakily, his body shuddering just once, then stilling. He kissed your shoulder, then your temple, then the crown of your head, slowly and reverently. “I’ll never let anything hurt you,” he said. “Not even me. Especially not me.”

You stayed wrapped together like that for a long time, swaying slightly as he rocked you without realizing it. Your heartbeats matched, slow and deep, and the world outside your quiet little cocoon ceased to matter. The candlelight flickered low, shadows stretching softly across the floor, and beyond the window, the stars blinked awake one by one, like they were watching over you.

Safe. Loved. Home.

[m0ri-apeuda]

Wrong number! | Lee Know

Contains: Lee Know x fem!reader

Warnings: cursing, meanie minho, Chan appearance (group chat is from chans pov), 1 gay joke, strangers to lovers, a fair few JYPapi mentions

Summary: You send a text to the wrong number, and don't exactly get greeted with open arms. Can you get closer to this mystery person and eventually create a bond?

A/n: this one was pretty hard to write. I didn't really know how to write Minho and the transitions were difficult, but I hope you like it! Felix is next on my list, but I have a busy weekend so that MIGHT take a while (or it might come out later today I really have no clue)

Enjoy🐱

Bangchan | Lee know | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

[m0ri-apeuda]

Wrong Number! | Han Jisung

Contains: Han Jisung x fem!reader

Genre: Strangers to lovers, comedy, fluff

Warnings: cursing, ignore time stamps, a fair few marvel memes, alcohol mention, drunk Han, horrific nicknames all the way through, Han referred to as Peter a few times

Summary: Han sends you his newest music on accident, but quickly discovers that his mistake might be a blessing!

A/n: wow this one took a long while, apologies! Life kept getting in the way:( but it's here!! Thank you for all the love I have received lately, it's so crazy to think so many people enjoy what I write, it's majorly appreciated!!!<3

Enjoy💅

Bangchan | Lee know | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Taglist: OPEN

@velvetmoonlght @chengmeiauau @iknow-youknow-hyunho @nougatjade @alice3876 @my-neurodivergent-world @androgynouscrownorbit @casperlynn23 @lixies-favorite-cookie

[m0ri-apeuda]

Hiiii! Could u maybe write for skz being in a secret relationship (like secret from the public cause reader ain’t an idol) and getting caught by paparazzi during a date? U can just make 3racha pls if u don’t feel like doing all 8 ! Feel free to refuse too ofc! I loved your Spotify wrapped hcs btw! Seungmin’s was so funny! 😆

I made them reaction bullet points! But if you guys like them then I'm totally up to making them into longer fics!!

Stray Kids | Secret Relationship → Getting Caught by Paparazzi

Bangchan

Chan is so careful usually.

Dates are always super lowkey - private cafes, quiet beaches at night, movie nights at home.

But today was your birthday, and he wanted to do something special.

He rented out a tiny rooftop restaurant just for the two of you, candles, flowers, the whole thing.

Everything was going fine...until you both laughed too hard at a joke and he leaned across the table to kiss you.

Flash.

Click click click.

Both of you froze mid-kiss like-

🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️...

Chan immediately tensed and went into protective mode, grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the ledge.

He spends the rest of the night furious at himself, feeling like he failed to protect you.

“It’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful, baby, I’m so sorry…”

You have to literally cup his cheeks and remind him that you knew the risks from the start, and you still chose him.

Later when the photos surface, they’re actually really sweet and respectful - the caption is like: “Bang Chan spotted in sweet rooftop date - fans speculate he’s in a relationship.”

His company releases a statement saying they won’t comment on private matters, and surprisingly, most people are supportive.

In the end, the incident kinda soft-launches your relationship 💛.

Lee Know

Lee Know thinks he's a secret agent.

Always plans escape routes. Dresses down. Times everything.

“Trust no one. Speak to no one. Blend into the crowd.”

But you went out for bubble tea one afternoon, and he just couldn’t resist teasing you.

He poked your straw when you weren’t looking, got your drink all over your shirt, and then tried to "help" wipe it off.

You were laughing and swatting at him, and he kissed your forehead without thinking.

Flash.

😐😐😐

Minho freezes.

“Did you see that?”

“...Yes.”

“Abort mission. Run.”

Grabs your hand and books it through side streets like a literal action movie.

Later, when the photos go viral, they’re weirdly cute - you’re laughing, he’s looking at you with soft eyes, and fans are melting.

He doesn’t say anything publicly, but a few days later, he posts a dance video wearing a shirt that says “Not Sorry.” 😎

Changbin

Changbin is PARANOID about getting caught.

He wears hats, masks, sometimes even sunglasses at night.

He’ll make you walk separately in public and only link up when it’s super empty.

But today, he was feeling bold.

You were walking by the river, and he just couldn’t help it - he grabbed your hand.

You warned him. He didn’t listen. He was too busy smiling at you like an idiot in love.

Then:

Click click click click.

Changbin drops your hand and looks around like a scared puppy.

“Was that what I think it was-”

“Yes.”

“@$#%&.”

He immediately pulls you into a side street, calling his manager with one hand while trying to shield you with the other.

“I think we have a problem.”

Despite his panic, you kinda find it cute how protective he gets, constantly glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay.

The photos blow up fast - he’s recognizable even under the hat and mask because of his build.

Surprisingly, the fans argue that he deserves to be happy and start trending “#HappyForChangbin.” 🥹

He won’t relax until you both sit down and personally go over every nasty comment and good comment together, promising to only listen to the good ones.

“They don’t know our love, jagiya. Only we know. That’s enough.” 💌

Hyunjin

You were museum-hopping for your date - very chill, very lowkey.

Hyunjin wore glasses and a mask, blending in as just another artsy boy admiring sculptures.

You thought you were in the clear.

Then you reached to point at a painting at the same time and your hands touched.

Hyunjin looked at you, smiled all dreamy, and brushed your hair behind your ear like a damn movie scene.

THAT’S when the paparazzo got you.

Flash.

Hyunjin didn’t even flinch, he just kind of...blinked and kept smiling.

“Let’s keep going. Pretend nothing happened.”

(Internally he was PANICKING.)

Later he has a minor meltdown about it, pacing and chewing on his sleeve.

“WHAT IF THEY FIND YOU? WHAT IF THEY HARASS YOU? I SHOULD’VE BEEN MORE CAREFUL!”

You calm him down with forehead kisses and pinky promises.

The photo goes viral because it’s just so beautiful - you two look like characters out of a romance drama.

Fans nicknamed you “Hyunjin’s Mona Lisa.” 🎨🖌️

Han Jisung

Jisung is...not careful. Like at all. 😭

Like, he tries - really he does - but his excitement always gives him away.

You two went on a simple late-night drive, windows down, singing along to whatever’s on the radio.

You driving of course since the chubby cheeked boy still had yet to get his license.

You pulled over to a convenience store to grab snacks,

When he came back with a pile of candy and two hot coffees, he opened the drivers door and buckled you in as if you were sitting in the passenger seat.

After making sure you were secured he shut the door, and leaned into the car window and kissed you.

Like full-on swoon-worthy type of thing.

…Right in front of a paparazzo who was tailing idols that night.

FLASH.

You both screamed. Like actually screamed.

Jisung dropped everything he was holding, candy and coffee flying into the air. ☕🍬

“RUN!” he shrieked, diving into the passenger seat as you two sped off like a maniacs while you gasped laughing in the drivers seat.

Later, he’s freaking out. But tries to cover it up with joking.

“Do you think they got my good side?” (You smack his arm.)

The photos come out with the caption "Mystery lover? Han spotted on late night date!"

The company tries to spin it as “just hanging out with a friend,” but nobody buys it because of the kiss photo LOL.

In the end, you two have to lay low for a while, but honestly, Jisung just jokes about it constantly.

“If I’m gonna get caught, at least it was a kiss that looked straight out of a K-drama, am I right?” 💋

Felix

Honestly?

Felix would straight up take you on a nature walk for your dates.

Forests, hidden parks, lakes - anywhere with sunshine and minimal people.

You were sitting by a lake one afternoon, feeding ducks, and he kissed your cheek.

A photographer hiding in the bushes (like a weirdo) got the shot.

(Felix: 🫠)

(You: 🫠)

He immediately covers your face with his hands in the CUTEST protective way.

“Stay still, baby, don’t look, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Back at home, he hugs you and promises it’ll be okay no matter what happens.

“If they hate me, it’s fine. If they hate you, it’s war.”

The fandom goes wild, but mostly in support because...well...it’s Felix...

Even people who don’t stan Stray Kids are like, “If Felix found love we’re all cheering for him.” 😭

Seungmin

Seungmin is sneaky with dates.

Like, coffee shop hidden inside a bookstore levels of sneaky.

But today, you convinced him to just do something normal - ice cream at a park.

You were eating together on a bench, Seungmin roasting you for dropping your scoop.

“Are you five years old?”

“You’re gonna be single if you keep talking.”

He laughed, leaned in, and kissed your sticky nose.

You heard a camera shutter.

Both of you paused.

Seungmin squinted at the photographer like 🧐.

“You dropped your scoop and got us caught. Great job, genius.”

(He’s teasing. But he’s freaking out inside.)

Later when the pictures come out, Seungmin’s fans are laughing because he looks so deadpan in every photo.

Someone even memes it:

Caption: "When you drop your ice cream... and the fact you're in a relationship, too." 🍦😅🍦😂

I.N

Jeongin is careful because he’s still the “baby” to a lot of fans.

But he really wanted to take you to the little zoo near the city.

He wore a hat so low it almost covered his eyes, mask up to his nose, hoodie two sizes too big.

Adorable.

He was so focused on making sure you were comfortable he didn’t even realize a paparazzo had been tailing you guys.

The moment that got caught?

You feeding him a french fry outside a food stall.

Jeongin holding your hand to guide the fry into his mouth.

Giggles and hearts in your eyes.

The flash that the paparrazzo had forgoten to shut off startled you two.

Jeongin dropped the fries in horror.

You were more worried about the wasting of the fries more than anything else.

Panic.exe.

Later he’s apologizing over and over, voice so soft and guilty:

“It’s okay if you wanna break up with me...I get it…” 😔

(You bonk him on the head, lovingly of course.)

Turns out the fans think it’s the cutest thing ever.

“Our maknae is growing up 😭💖.”

Jeongin turns bright pink every time someone mentions it for the next month.

You say he owes you a large fry.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

[m0ri-apeuda]

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[m0ri-apeuda]

for research purposes

pairing: caleb x reader

summary: how on earth were you supposed to write a good sex scene with almost zero experience? good thing your best friend was always willing to lend you a helping hand.

themes: childhood best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, friends with benefits, college! au, slowburn, humour, fluff, angst, petnames, profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, explicit sexual content (oral fem receiving, fingering, nipple play, protected + unprotected sex, clothed sex), porn with so much plot, they're both down bad asf

word count: 25k

lyns notes: its been so long since i've written a full length fic like this, and it ended up being so much longer than I anticipated but please don't get scared by the wc 😭 its so self indulgent because i love caleb and I had way too much fun writing this so I hope you enjoy! <3

This was utterly insane, even for you.

The idea started small, though you supposed you couldn’t ever classify it as innocent. At the time, it had been just a flicker, a fleeting thought that slipped through the cracks of your composure. You were in your best friend's dorm, lounging on his bed like it was your own as you complained. 

“I’ve been stuck for weeks now. It’s like I’ve lost the ability to write.”

Caleb glanced over at you from his desk, leaning back in his plush chair as the movement of his fingers over the laptop keyboard stilled for a moment. The expression you received was familiar, you had been on the receiving end of it for years now. One of his lips quirked up, deep lavender eyes alight with amusement, and one eyebrow raised as he took in your anguished state. 

“You haven’t lost the ability to write, Pipsqueak, it's just writer's block. You’ve had writer's block before.”

“Not like this.” You shook your head, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them. “I usually manage to overcome it in a week or so. It’s been like, three months.”  Your annoyance with yourself was obvious to him, so clear in the slight pout on your mouth paired with that indignant expression.

It was true, you had been writing ever since you were little. Your imagination ran wild as a child, even before you could physically write, you would spin tales and make up stories to entertain yourself with, frequently getting lost in your own little world. You prided yourself on this talent of yours that helped you breeze through English essays and writing assignments, even going so far as to major in English at university. Writing was your bread and butter. It was more than just being good at it, it was the passion and fulfilment you felt when you did it. 

Passion and fulfillment your ass, you couldn’t feel any of that right now.

You were writing a book, your very first one that you started penning in the summer before your sophomore year. The idea had come to you out of nowhere, and once you spent hours outlining all the details, you were certain it was something you wanted to bring to life. The need to finish it burned through you as you spent most of that break stuck at your desk, hunched over your laptop. Caleb had to quite literally drag you out of your room most days, muttering some nonsense about vitamin D and too much screen time.

He had always been like that ever since you were kids – protective, caring, attentive. It was built into his very being, you supposed, ever since he saw you cry outside the first-grade classrooms as a seven-year-old and promised to help you find your way to the correct one. Even now, as he hummed in thought, offering silent support for your frustration. 

“You’ve gotten through a large chunk of it, right?”

“Yep.”

A slow, bargaining smile stretched out on his face. “Hey, you know, maybe if you let me read it–”

“Hell no.” You shook your head stubbornly. “I told you, I’m only letting you read it once it's finished, and I think it’s good enough.”

Caleb snorted, “So you mean never?”

You promptly threw one of the plushies on his bed at him. He deftly caught it, laughter slipping from him as he threw it back. The plushy was a grumpy apple one that he had won you back home at the arcade, but the pile of plushies on your bed was so huge that you graciously suggested that he keep it for you. Partial custody, you had joked, I have visitation rights.

“You’ll be the first to read it. I just….need to get through this one bit.” 

Ah yes, the bit. The part that you seemed to be cursed to never finish. Everything before it had gone so smoothly, the words flowing and pouring out of you so perfectly. A fun romance novel full of twists and humour was what you aimed to achieve, and it seemed like you were succeeding.

That was, until you reached a part of the story that you truly had no idea how to write. The technicalities of it were.…..unknown at best, to you, who had almost no experience in the matter. 

“You know, maybe you could tell me about it. Maybe I could help.” You knew the offer was genuine. Caleb had always been someone you could fall back upon for any assistance. Being two years older than you, in your eyes, he always knew what to do when you were in a pickle. He was the type of friend who placed bandages on your scrapes and offered you candy so you’d stop crying. He carried a hair tie around for when you wanted to tie your hair and helped you study for tests, and explained the concepts that you didn’t understand. Every time you had a problem, he never hesitated to help you in any way he possibly could.

But this….this was something you’d rather die than ask him about. 

Immediately, you shook your head a little too quickly, shooting him a tight smile. “Nope, it's fine. Just something I gotta figure out myself.

He stared at you skeptically but shrugged. “Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

You wouldn’t.

Would you?

Absolutely not. Even thinking about it felt like a betrayal. It was like opening a can of worms that held snakes. Deadly venomous ones. 

And yet here you were, your teeth digging into the plush of your lower lip as he turned back to his laptop screen, continuing to work on whatever assignment he had due. He was in his final year and was infinitely busy, though he somehow still managed to make time for you. 

Shamelessly, your eyes studied him. His arms, so well defined and firm-looking, were basically on display for you when he wore that white, sleeveless tee. Dark hair, unruly and messy, no matter how many times you ran your fingers through it in an attempt to fix it. A defined jawline that could probably cut you if you dared touch it. He had grown up unfairly well, no longer the lanky young boy you once knew, now a man. A hot man you had incredible chemistry with.

A very hot man who was completely off-limits. 

Still. You supposed that his help couldn’t be the worst thing in the world–

A sex scene. That was what you were struggling to right. In terms of the story, it was a very natural next move for your characters, and it made sense, and while you could simply artistically describe the ordeal and fade to black, you felt it was a necessary addition. You wanted to showcase the desperation the two characters felt for each other, just how deep their feelings ran through something more primal. You wanted it to feel right, to feel magical. 

The issue? You hadn’t the faintest idea of how to go about it. In all your nineteen years of life, you had only had sex once, and it had been far from magical. It had been uncomfortable and rushed, the result of a very stupid, drunken one-night stand in your first year. The guy very evidently didn’t know how a woman's body worked, and even thinking back on it made you cringe and fold in on yourself. If it were possible to manually pluck the memory out and destroy it, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

So how on earth were you supposed to write the perfect sex scene when your one sole experience in the matter had been so terrible?

And you couldn’t ask Caleb for help. Even considering doing so made you feel as if you would spontaneously combust. He was your best friend, for crying out loud, and this crossed so many lines. You knew very well that he wasn’t a virgin by any means, having caught glimpses of the occasional hickey on his neck despite his best efforts to hide it from you. He was twenty-one, experienced and could probably talk you through it–

Nope. Not going here. 

The idea of Caleb explaining sex to you was mortifying. You didn’t want to hear about any of his conquests, even just the thought of him talking about it made you want to throw up. The notion of him having sex only made your cheeks warm and your throat go uncomfortably dry.

Against your will, the thought festered. It burrowed its way into your mind and settled there as if it belonged, despite its having no business being there. This was completely unethical, but before you could stop yourself, your gaze zeroed in on his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking his lips in concentration as he typed out something. For a second, you wondered how it would feel if he dragged that tongue across the skin of your neck.

Oh my god. What if he simply showed you?

The moment that depraved idea popped into your head, you shot up, getting to your feet with urgency. Startled, he looked over at you, frowning at the alarmed look on your face.

“Are you good?”

“I’m great!” Your voice sounded funny, like you were trying to digest a rock. “I just– er– remembered I have some homework to finish for tomorrow. So I should get back to my room.” You padded over to his door, slipping into your shoes and waving at him. “See ya.”

“....Bye.” He watched your awkward, rushed movements with a puzzled look on his (very nice) face.. You nodded curtly before opening the door and escaping the confines of his dorm, out of his scrutinising gaze that could read you annoyingly well. Another minute in there and you knew he would be grilling you for your odd behaviour. 

Jesus Christ. You were so screwed.

“Y/n? Girl, you gotta get your head in the game.”

Tara’s voice cut through your reverie, causing you to snap out of it. One glance up at her would reveal an unimpressed look directed at you, her hands on her hips. “Our darling editor wants to know why your article isn’t on her desk yet.”

Tara was your closest friend after Caleb, and you had met her when you joined the university paper as a student journalist. She was smart, pretty and always had your back no matter what. Blinking rapidly, you sighed, waving your hand. 

“Tell Jenna I’ll have it there by the end of the day.”

“You better. You know how she is about deadlines.” Tara pulled one of the chairs from the desk beside yours closer and sat on it, resting her elbows on the armrests. “Seriously, though, why are you spaced out today?”

Well, there was no way you could tell her the truth about that. So you resorted to using a half-truth as an answer. “Writer's block.”

“Ah.”

You turned back to the screen of your computer, staring at the article you had been writing. It was almost finished, thank god. At least here, you had the facts to write around, having done your research. Very different to the situation you found yourself in regarding your stupid book.

Ugh. 

“By the way, your boyfriend’s here.”

Your head snapped up at her words, already ready to argue, knowing exactly who she was talking about. Walking into the newsroom holding two coffees was Caleb, wearing that blue-orange jacket that you had bought him for one of his birthdays. He did this pretty often, sauntering in like he owned the place even though he was technically not allowed to be there. Jenna had repeatedly reminded him of this, but he brushed it off, and after a while, she simply stopped bothering. Thus, despite not being on the paper, he spent a lot of time in the newsroom.

This was another problem you faced daily: people mistaking him for your boyfriend. The number of times you had to rehash the fact that he was simply your best friend was astounding, and back when you were a freshman, the constant whistles about you dating an upperclassman– and none other than Caleb Xia– drove you mad. You chalked it down to none of them being fortunate enough to experience a friendship as fulfilling and real as the one you had with him.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You dropped your voice, keeping it just loud enough for her to hear your rebuttal that held a hint of venom, plastering a smile on your face as he closed in. Tara snickered. 

“Sure, and I’m the queen of England.”

“Hey,” Caleb grinned down at you, his eyes momentarily flitting to your friend. “And what?”

“Nothing,” you said brightly, shooting her a murderous look that silently told her to zip it. She smiled innocently and shook her head, slipping back to her desk without another word.

“She’s an odd one,” he quipped, handing you one of the coffees and then shrugging off the jacket, dumping it on the free space on your desk. You already knew it was your regular order, something he had memorised years ago. You sipped the drink, letting the hot liquid calm you down, grateful for the caffeine. You hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, spending it tossing and turning in your bed.

And why was that?

Caleb leaned against your desk. “Are you free later today?” 

A dejected sigh escaped you. “Unfortunately, no. I need to finish this article by the end of the day, and it seems like my writer's block has infected every aspect of my life.” It was ironic, just how true that statement ran.

“Damn.” You could hear the tinge of disappointment in his voice. “I was hoping we would have movie night. I stocked up on your favourite candy.” He reached over, his fingers brushing against the skin of your forehead as he pushed some of your hair that fell in front of your eyes away from your face, neatly tucking it behind your ear like it was second nature. It was, you supposed, considering he had done so about a hundred times.

But something was different this time, or perhaps you were paying far too much attention to every little thing. To how he pulled back and the way the muscles in his forearm shifted subtly, making you wish he had kept the jacket on. The brief touch lingered on your skin, burned into it.

Fucking hell, you were a mess. A tragic, down-atrocious mess.

Your eyes lingered on his fingers for a moment. Heat crept up your neck, and you coughed, rubbing it absent-mindedly, hoping to push down the flush you felt taking over your body. It had been like this ever since the day in his dorm when your brain had decided to work against you and infect you with the thought of sex with your best friend.

What better way was there to describe your state than calling it an infection? It certainly felt like some sort of sickness with the way it plagued you against your will. Somehow, it was worse than the doomed crush you had harboured for him back when you were in high school, because at least that had been innocent. That was born out of pure admiration, and you were sixteen. A lot of things done at sixteen could be brushed off under the excuse of being young and naive. You had quickly gotten over it. 

You were evidently no longer so naive. In fact, you knew too much.

“Maybe next time.” You managed to choke out finally after a silence that had stretched a beat too long. Part of you hoped he’d leave you alone now so that you could calm down and refocus your attention to the article. 

But of course, he didn’t. Instead, he occupied the chair Tara previously had, complaining about one of his classes as you nodded along, sipping your coffee and glancing between him and your screen. The smooth cadence of his voice usually soothed you and calmed you down, but now it only put you on edge, flowing over scrambled thoughts like honey. Had his arms always been this nice?

You were going to hell.

All things considered, you held yourself to certain standards. You were a woman with morals and integrity, and you were not in the habit of staring at shirtless men.

Except when it was Caleb, apparently. 

“Why are you half-naked?” You blurted out gracelessly, heat viciously curling up your body as your eyes dropped down to his torso. You gripped the Chinese takeout you had gotten on your way back from your evening class a little tighter as you took in his figure. A silver chain with a tag and apple pendant (something you had given him before he left for university while you were still struggling in high school) on his bare chest and perfect sculpted abs, running shorts hanging low on his hips. 

“I was working out.” He said casually, taking the bag of takeout from your hands and walking back into his dorm, leaving you to follow him. You bit down on your tongue hard, almost hoping you’d draw blood. 

This was ridiculous. You had seen him shirtless several times before and had never reacted like this. The other times hadn’t caused you to flush and definitely didn’t cause your heart rate to spike. It didn’t have you furiously fighting off thoughts that had threatened to consume you for over a week now, pushing them back into the furthest parts of your mind and locking them there. 

“I’m almost done, could you grab sodas from the fridge?” Caleb placed the food on the table beside his bed. You wordlessly complied, picking the apple-flavoured sodas that both of you liked. Turning back to the main area of his dorm, you walked over, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Caleb was on the floor. Doing push-ups.

There was nothing inherently sexual about it in the slightest. You knew he liked to stay in shape, hitting the gym at least thrice a week to maintain his physique– a very nice physique that seemed to be your current undoing. His hair fell across his forehead, a little matted from sweat. You watched as he pressed down and back up, and in a moment of weakness, you wondered how it would be if you were under him instead of standing to the side and ogling like an idiot. Would his necklace dangle above you, swinging back and forth in your face?

Dear god. You needed to be sedated. Put down, even.

Finally, he seemed to be done, lowering himself down and then rolling onto his back. He sucked in a breath of hair, running his hands through his hair and messing it up even further. Finally, he sat up and looked up at you, a singular eyebrow raised.

“Why are you just standing there?”

Brilliant question. If only you could answer it. 

Choosing to skillfully evade instead, you tossed him his soda can and grabbed his laptop from his desk, settling down next to him on the floor. Tonight, the two of you had decided to have dinner together and catch up on an anime you had started together a couple of weeks ago. It had been a while since you had properly hung out, and you knew damn well that it was all your fault. 

You were avoiding him. Mentally and physically, especially physically. Caleb, however, being the understanding, saint of a man that he was, chalked it up to you being busy. He made sure to check in on you, shooting you texts or sending you funny videos he knew you’d like. 

“We should try and finish all the episodes up until the latest one,” You said, opening up his laptop and logging into the anime site. “They released a new one on Wednesday.” 

Caleb hummed, stretching his arms as he shuffled closer. Immediately, you froze, the close contact inciting pure panic within you. Jerking away from him, you glared, holding a hand out to keep an arm's distance between the two of you, much to his confusion. 

“Put on a shirt.”

He frowned. “Why? It’s really hot.”

Indeed, it was. “Exactly. You’re all sweaty and gross.”

You really shouldn’t have said that. The moment the words left your mouth, his mouth curled into a smirk– one so disgustingly attractive that you were sure your knees would have probably buckled if you weren’t already sitting down– and his eyes lit up with a mischievous glint that told you he was up to no good. Carefully, he wrapped a hand around your wrist, and the contact has your brain short-circuiting and going into overdrive.

“I think that means you want a hug.”

“Wait– don’t you dare– Caleb!” You yelped as he tugged you harshly, forcing you to fall into his lap, his laughter resounding through the small dorm room. Awkwardly, you shoot your other hand out to steady yourself, placing it on his shoulder as you tumble into him, knee slotting in between his legs and body so dangerously close to his that you wanted to scream. Smoothly, he wrapped his other arm around your waist, circling it and somehow tugging you even closer, until you were flush against him.

“What are you gonna do now, Pips?” He taunted, voice just above a whisper right against your ear. 

Unicorns, you bleakly thought to yourself. Puppies. Cupcakes. Sprinkles.

“You’re so annoying,” You hissed, throwing as much irritation into your voice as you possibly could in the hopes that it would drown out the shakiness you felt. His skin under your fingertips was warm, and you could feel that warmth through the fabric of your tank top. “Go fuck yourself.”

He laughed harder, the sound so contagious it broke you out of your downright sinful thoughts. You gripped his shoulder a little harder, mentally chastising yourself for the situation you found yourself in, knowing that there was no good reason for you to be this riled up. Playfighting with him was something you were used to; it was natural. It should not have had your blood pressure rising and heart slamming in your chest so violently.

Swallowing thickly, you barely processed how he let go of your wrist, his other arm also coming to rest around your waist as he pulled you further into his lap so that you were now sitting on top of him. Before you even had the chance to react to that, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and inhaled. 

“Missed you this week,” He mumbled softly against your rapidly heating skin. You froze for a split second at the contact, hopelessly blaming the flush spread over your cheeks on the humid weather.

And then you softened. 

Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him back. “I missed you too,” You whispered, following up with a lie to keep him off your trail. “Just had a lot of work.”

“I know,” he said so patiently that you instantly felt guilty. He lifted his face from your neck so that he could stare at you, and it hit you just how intimate the position the two of you were in was. Although reserved with others, Caleb had always been pretty openly affectionate with you. His hand on the small of your back, fingers intertwined with yours, a light kiss to your temple in encouragement– he had been doing stuff like that to you since you were ten. 

So why did it suddenly affect you so much? Why did something so normal for you make you feel so different now?

“Just….tell me about it,” he continued, those mesmerising purple eyes of his locked onto yours. “Shoot me a text. Let me know what's up with you. Don’t you remember the last time you shut everyone out because you were stressed?”

You did remember. It was during your finals last year, when the workload you had overwhelmed you so badly that you simply pushed everyone away until they were over. Caleb had to practically storm his way back into your life and demand that you take a break and slow down before you worked yourself to the bone. The fact that he remembered this only made your guilt worse because your distance this time had nothing to do with your classwork. 

It had everything to do with him, though. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumbled, slowly slipping out of his embrace and settling down next to him once again. You had to remind yourself of what he was to you, and all this thirsting for him was neither healthy nor something a good best friend would do. “I’m not gonna do that again.” 

“I’m just saying. And what the hell am I supposed to do with my free time if you’re not here to bother me?” He flashed you that shit-eating grin of his that you were starting to think was more devastating than mischievous.

You had to resist strangling him.

There was only one possible conclusion: something was deeply wrong with you.

How else were you supposed to explain your borderline insane behaviour? It had gotten even worse lately, causing you to daydream at the most inconvenient times, like when you were trying to get an assignment done or even in the middle of class. It was a wonder your professors hadn’t called you out for it yet. 

Some level of restraint seemed to remain, though, with you stopping your thoughts from crossing any lines. The moment you caught your mind straying into dangerous territory, you forced yourself to stop, desperately searching for another distraction.

But there was only so much you could do. Thinking was proving to be a dangerous activity.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, hard. It was almost three in the morning, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Earlier, you had tried to write around the damned scene, but emerged fruitless. It was like an obstacle you had to clear before you could get to the next level of a game, taunting you with its incompletion.

Something else taunted you, simmering underneath the expanse of your skin. Things that hadn’t even happened yet, but you had already dreamed of them– his mouth on yours, his hands tracing your body with a feather touch. 

You were even wearing one of his shirts right now, the oversized tee reaching down to your mid-thighs. Several, just like the one you currently wore, sat neatly in your closet, having been stolen from him over the years. You could faintly smell his cologne; cidery and comforting, enveloping you in what felt like it could be his embrace. Turning onto your side, you pulled the blanket over your body and stared at the wall blankly. 

Caleb had been your safe space for so long, and perhaps that was why you gravitated so easily to thinking about him like this. If there was anyone you trusted in such an intimate sense, it was him. 

Even if it shouldn’t have been.

God knows you needed to get laid. Unfortunately, you didn’t want just anyone.

You swore you had never been this horny before, least of all for your best friend. Thinking about him in such a salacious way was strictly a new development that was quickly ruining your life, haunting you day and night. Even now, lying in your bed, heat that was impossible to ignore bloomed between your legs. 

Maybe if you just indulged once, this madness would stop. Maybe you just needed an orgasm, and then you’d stop going insane over every single interaction you had with Caleb. It didn’t even have to be about him, and this was normal; everyone needed a release now and then. 

Your fingers slipped between your legs, pushing the fabric of his shirt up, tracing the outline of your cotton underwear. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let your fingertips gently graze against where you needed them most, letting your legs fall apart just a little bit–

Deep purple eyes flashed behind your closed eyes.

Gasping, you retracted your hand like you had been burned. There was no way in hell you could touch yourself with him in mind; that was everything you had been avoiding for the past three weeks, ever since the notion had first sprouted. Groaning, you buried your face into the pillow.

This had to have been the stupidest cause of insomnia ever.

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : i better see u at the party tonight :D

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : will pick u up at 9

Caleb 🍎 [15:32 pm] : no buts.

Caleb supposed that this was technically his fault.

Mentally, he had already prepared for this outcome. It was why he had barely drunk the entire night, barely finishing two drinks and opting out of playing beer pong with the rest of his friends, despite Gideon's need for another member on his team. 

“Come on, Pipsqueak.” He had an arm around your waist to help steady you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall flat on your face. You stumbled into the elevator, and he jammed the number of your dorm floor as you wrapped your arms around his torso weakly, leaning into him. Right now, he was the only thing keeping you upright.

You were drunk, slurring your words and unable to walk in a straight line without any assistance type of drunk.  And yes, this was his fault. 

Probably. Definitely.

One of the frat houses had thrown a party, and he had insisted that you come with him. He had always been great at reading you, and for the last couple of weeks, you had seemed tense over something, though you hadn’t told him what exactly it was yet. That was fine, he knew that eventually you’d spill, but for now, all he wanted to do was help you let loose. 

That was exactly what he told you to do when both of you arrived at the party, even pouring you your first drink. Halfway through the party, you seemed more relaxed than you had in the last couple of days, swaying along to the music by his side. He made sure not to drink too much, wanting to be sober enough to safely get you back to your dorm just in case you overdid it.

His intuition always ended up being right when it came to you.

You whined as the elevator dinged, the doors opening. “Everything is spinning.”

“I know, honey, we’re almost there.” He helped you walk into the hallway, smoothly taking your handbag from you and extracting your keys. Holding you tighter, he opened the door and pulled you through, carefully seating you down on your bed and taking your boots off.

Like clockwork, he grabbed a bottle of water from your bedside table, unscrewed it and held it to your cherry-tinted lips. You only used that specific lip-tint when you were going out, and each time you did, he found himself wondering if it tasted like cherry as well. Even now, as he gently propped his index finger under your chin and tilted your face upwards, he entertained the idea of tasting it for himself.

But he wouldn’t. 

“Drink up,” He said softly, “You’re gonna have a nasty hangover tomorrow.”

Obediently, you parted your lips, drinking with his help. Your cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol, hair a little frizzy from the heat, but still maintaining the styling you had done before the party. To him, you looked stunning at all times, but he could see the effort you had put in to look nice tonight, from your outfit (a black halter top and jeans) to your makeup, which he knew he’d have to help you take off now. 

Once he deemed the amount of water you had drunk enough, he put the bottle back and went into your bathroom, knowing exactly where to find your makeup wipes. He had taken care of you like this once before, so his body moved like clockwork. There was no point in trying to get you to the bathroom– you’d probably just sit down on the floor and stay there for the rest of the night– so he took the wipes with him and crouched down in front of where you sat on your bed. 

Smiling, he held your face again, this time a little firmer. “You’d hate yourself if you went to sleep before you took your makeup off,” he whispered, pulling one of the wipes out and dragging it over the apples of your face. Then, he glanced up and into your eyes, noting how you stared at him so keenly, even through a half-lidded gaze, lips slightly parted. 

If Caleb could’ve kept your attention on him like this for the rest of his life, he would have. 

“What's going through that head of yours?” He cocked his head to the side, studying your intent expression. Immediately, you looked away, but he wasn’t going to back down. Something had been troubling you, and he was determined to find out what. If you wouldn’t tell him outright, he would simply have to guess. “Is it your book, again?”

Your inebriated state made it hard for you to hide things from him. You stiffened in his touch, and he chuckled. “Bingo. You know, if you just told me what you were struggling with, I’d help.” He pressed your chin lightly, angling your face downwards. “Close your eyes.” He gently wiped over your eye makeup, making sure it was all off before continuing. “I know I’m not a writer, but I’m sure I'll be of some value.”

Finally done, he neatly folded the dirty wipe and placed it to the side. “Want some more water? Alcohol is dehydrating.”

And then, out of nowhere, you spoke. 

“Sex.”

Well, blurting would probably be a better way to describe how you said the word. Caleb blinked rapidly, wondering if he had heard you correctly as his face snapped back to yours, eyes wide. 

“What?”

“Sex.” You slurred a little bit as you leaned closer to him, jutting your lower lip out in a pout and repeating it once more for good measure. “Sex.”

“I heard you the first time,” Caleb could hear how strangled his voice was, unable to think straight at your sudden declaration. Oblivious to his mental distress, you thrust out your hand and pointed at the laptop that sat on your desk with drunken animosity. 

“I can’t write a stupid sex scene.” 

You sounded so crestfallen, and he would have totally started sympathising with you if not for the reason. A sex scene? What on earth were you writing?

“I–” He swallowed, “Well–”

“I mean, how am I supposed to write a good sex scene if I don’t know what good sex feels like? Or what even like, happens?” Alcohol had certainly loosened you up, and perhaps a bit too much, having erased any filter that you had. This resulted in you rambling on about everything you would have usually kept to yourself, and for good reason. “The sex I’ve had has been shitty.”

The sex you’ve had? Caleb almost bit his tongue off in shock, staring at you incredulously at the information you had dumped on him. He hadn’t even known you had been having sex, and thank every god for that, because he would have probably jumped off a cliff if you ever talked about your sex life with him. Surely, this was some sort of twisted fever dream he had found himself in. This could not have been real life.

“Christ,” He choked out, “I–okay, maybe I can’t help you–”

“Yeah, you can.” Your eyes cut to his, a little too intense for his sanity. “If you fucked me, I’d probably be able to write the scene.”

He gaped at you, about a dozen inappropriate thoughts running through his head before he could stop it. “What did you just say?” 

Teenage Caleb would have died if he had heard you say that. Adult Caleb nearly did. 

You sighed heavily, and it only succeeded in causing him to spiral even more. “I thought about it. I’m sure it would be good, y’know. You’d know what you were doing, you even look like you’re good at it.”

“You’re so drunk.” He tried to reason with himself out loud, but could hardly recognise his voice with how strained he sounded. Looked like he was good at it? What alternate dimension had he just fallen into? 

“Oh, come on, Caleb. I need some hands-on learning, and you–” you slurred the words as you leaned close and wrapped your hands around his bicep, peering up at him through your lashes. “–have very nice hands. They’re hot.”

You, his best friend, his pipsqueak, had thought about sleeping with him. You thought his hands were hot. The news nearly killed him, and he had to force himself to look away from you, his mind running at a mile a minute. Heat prickled at his face and neck, impossible to ignore as he cleared his throat and stood to his feet, pulling away from your touch. 

“You should sleep.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, stepping away from you. “I–I’ll see you tomorrow.” It was as if he were going through puberty all over again, with the way his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke. He left your room hurriedly,  barely getting his shoes back on as he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

Caleb exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose as the back of his head hit your door. All these years of barely keeping it together around you, carefully tiptoeing between right and wrong, only for you to come and crash into whatever self-restraint he had left. 

Right and wrong. 

All of a sudden, he wasn’t sure if he was going to choose correctly anymore. 

Death had to have been more merciful than the pounding in your head. Grabbing the covers, you pulled them over yourself like a cocoon, trying your hardest to block out all noises and sink even further into your mattress. 

Unfortunately, your hangover-induced headache made it nearly impossible for you to go back to sleep. Cursing, you forced yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up and change out of your clothes and into something more comfortable. Naturally, you gravitated towards an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts, pulling them on after a quick shower. 

Then, you went right back to your bed, not wanting to face the day in the slightest. You had managed to resist throwing up so far, and even the thought of having to function like a normal human being made you recoil into your blanket and stay there for the rest of the week. Just as you began to genuinely entertain that notion, a sharp knock at your door caught your attention.

You would have ignored it if you didn’t know the pattern of this knock by heart. No one but Caleb knocked twice in sequence. 

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled to the door and opened it, squinting as the bright light of the hallway outside nearly blinded you. There he stood, grinning down at you as he held up a paper bag. 

“Aspirin.”

“Thank god,” you immediately let him in, taking the medicine from him and pouring yourself a glass of water. He stood right behind you as you took the pill, ruffling your already messy hair and staring for just a second too long. 

“Bad morning, huh?”

“You have no idea.” You winced at the whiny nature of your voice. “It feels like my head is trying to stab itself.”

Caleb chuckled dryly, sitting down on your bed and watching as you settled at your desk and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth out the knots. Something was different about the way he was looking at you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“You’ll be fine,” He muttered, shifting his gaze to the ceiling. You frowned, taking in the way his jaw ticked, and placed your glass of water down.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” He said it a little too brightly, glancing down at your desk. Something flickered in his eyes. “Made any progress on that book of yours?”

A frustrated sound left you buried your face in your hands, elbows on your desk. The reminder of your stagnant writing somehow worsened your headache, as if that was even possible. Of course he’d bring that up. “As usual, no.”

For a while, you had hoped that inspiration would strike you eventually, but it seemed like you were well and truly stuck. It had only taken a turn for the worse, with you suddenly despising everything you had already written, unable to even skim any of it without cringing and wanting to hit delete. Your inability to write had morphed into impostor syndrome, which was a development you didn’t appreciate in the slightest.

“It’s okay,” he said, and you would have mistaken his tone for reassuring if not for the way his lips twitched slightly. “I’m sure you’ll be able to write eventually. After you fuck me, apparently.”

Silence. 

Razor-sharp silence.

Slowly, you turned your head to face him, eyes wide as saucers. “What….did you just say?”

“Only what you said last night. You said you were sure it would be good, which I beg to differ. It would be amazing, thank you very much.” He dared to smile oh-so innocently, as if he hadn’t just upgraded the superlative of what sex with him would potentially be like.

If you thought you were going to throw up before, you were sure you were going to now. You almost choked on your spit, waves of unadulterated shock crashing through your system as you gawked at your best friend, who appeared much too pleased with himself at the moment. If you weren’t so utterly horrified, you would have tried to slap the smug expression right off of his face.

“No.” The singular word comes out breathless, much to your mortification, your gut churning at the implications of that statement. “No, no, no–”

“Oh yes,” He grinned wickedly, leaning back on the palms of his hands. 

“What–what the fuck did I drink last night.” You tried your levity, but your embarrassment ran too deep. Reaching up, you covered your face with your hands in a pathetic attempt to hide away from him. Never, in a million years, had you ever accounted for having this conversation with him, of all people, and you were almost certain there was something in your drinks that had made you say what you did. 

His velvety laugh echoed through your dorm, and you wanted nothing more than to fold in on yourself. This had to have been the worst moment of your life. 

“I guess you don’t remember, huh?” There was an amused lilt to his tone that made you want to jump out of the window. “I can refresh you, if you’d like.”

“NO!” 

The shriek that left you was nothing short of abashed. He leaned forward now, smirking at you conspiratorially. “What's wrong? I thought you needed,” he paused, as if recollecting the exact words you had said to humiliate you even further. “Hands-on learning?”

You pointed to the door, biting back a scream. “Get out.”

The smirk only grew. “Aw, but if sleeping with me is gonna help you write again–”

“OUT!” You glared, cheeks flaming. Your anxiety had prepared you for at least a hundred outright ridiculous situations that had no chance of ever occurring, but none of them accounted for the possibility of your best friend talking about sleeping with you. You couldn’t fathom how he seemed so unaffected by it, as if he were speaking about something as mundane as the damn weather.

Caleb tongued his cheek, evidently fighting off another bout of laughter. He raised his hands to his sides in a placating gesture, but it did nothing to soothe your frazzled nerves. If anything, it only distracted you further, your eyes betraying you and straying to glance at his hands. A suppressed memory from last night resurfaced in your mind's eye, much to your displeasure. 

You have very nice hands. They’re hot.

That was it. You were never going to touch alcohol again. Sobriety was your way of life now, seeing that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when under the influence. The next time you need to let off some steam, you’d have an iced coffee.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go.” He moved towards your door, hiding his teasing smile behind his fist, disguising his chuckle with an exaggerated cough. “But Y/n?”

He didn’t use his beloved pet name. You straightened slightly, momentarily pushing away your embarrassment at the sudden serious shift of his voice. He opened the door and paused, hesitating for a single second. Then, he looked back at you, all-consuming, violent eyes locking onto yours. 

“I would do it if you asked.” 

You sighed heavily as you walked out of your last class of the day, rubbing the back of your neck and peering up into the darkening sky. Thursdays were the one day of the week when you had longer classes one after the other, which always resulted in you feeling exhausted by the end of it. You barely had the energy to even think about putting together dinner, which your best friend knew, always swinging by once your class ended with enough take-out for both of you and to walk you back to your dorm. 

Which meant…

“I hope you’re in the mood for Thai food.”

Caleb slid into your view with that easy-going smile of his, though lately and much to your annoyance, there seemed to be a knowing glint in his gaze every time it settled on you. 

“I’m in the mood for anything edible.” You sighed as you began walking back to your dorm. He easily fell into step beside you, as always, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You supposed it was, considering how long your friendship had lasted. It would be almost twelve years soon, and honestly, you could hardly remember a time when he wasn’t around. 

He hummed, knowing how cranky you got when you were hangry. “So easy to please.” It was the way he said it, knowing and with a tone so low that it almost resembled a purr. It had goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. A little outraged at the way you reacted, you glanced over at him, only to find him already looking at you.

It was how he always looked at you, with conviction and every ounce of his attention. Yet, it felt different, more intense. Or maybe that was just your brain playing tricks on itself. 

I would do it if you asked.

Those seven words had haunted you from the moment he had spoken them. The serious expression on his face mixed with the quiet way he had said it– it had undoubtedly fucked you up a little more than you would have liked to admit. You were beyond infuriated and in complete disbelief over how he had simply offered to sleep with you. Like it wasn’t a big deal or a very major, clear boundary that existed in friendships. In your friendship. 

If you asked. Like it was that fucking simple. He left your dorm since you demanded it of him, but left you to deal with the aftermath of that absolutely criminal statement of his. 

And then there was the teasing. 

Relentless and unsteadying. Caleb would say something a little too suggestive or downright sexual before retreating and pretending like nothing had happened. He’d hold your gaze a little longer, or let his touch linger, before looking away with a satisfied smirk. He knew damn well what he was doing, and although you did too, it didn’t stop you from flushing or freezing up. It certainly didn’t stop scenarios from writing themselves in your head. 

He was torturing you for your little slip-up. He found it hilarious, and now you were the punchline for every joke that blossomed from it. 

He cocked his head to the side now, a small, tilted smile on his lips as he spoke. “What's going on in at head of yours?”

You realised you had stopped walking, and so had he, instead standing right in front of you and occupying every part of your vision. “Nothing.”

Caleb quirked an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You sure about that? You’re obviously thinking about something.” The cadence of his voice had always been nice, but now the velvety smoothness of it put you on edge in more ways than one. “Are you maybe thinking about–”

“I am not thinking about that.” The statement tumbled out of you before you could bite your tongue. His eyes lit up mischievously.

“Oh, so you’re thinking about something after all, are you?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, struggling to findd to find a comeback to that. Somehow, he was even closer now. 

“Mind telling me what exactly that is?”

“Stop it,” You almost snarled, shooting him a withering look as you pushed him away in order to reclaim your personal space. This teasing streak of his was getting unbearable, especially since it was anything but innocent and was driving you up the wall. “Or I’m gonna take the Thai food and leave you with nothing.”

An offended gasp. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.” 

He laughed at your threat and finally let up on you, going back to being the Caleb you knew. He spoke of his classes and the group project he had due at the end of the week, for which he had terrible teammates to work with. It was jarring, how easily he could shift back into acting like he hadn’t just insinuated something so….

Maybe it was just your dirty mind. 

Unbeknownst to you, it definitely wasn’t just your dirty mind. Caleb was mentally punching himself. 

Caleb had had years of practising self-control when it came to you. Years of holding back and hiding the feelings he had for his best friend, shying away from every opportunity to divulge them. He knew how to keep his hands to himself, his mind from straying and his tongue from running into dangerous territory. He hadn’t meant to do it, but your drunken confession had flipped a switch inside of him. The lines had gotten a little blurry, but he would never, in a million years, ever actually cross them.

So what the hell was wrong with him? 

You still hadn’t written a word. Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t even complain about it in peace anymore. Not if you wanted to maintain even a modicum of your sanity.

The reason for said dwindling sanity was sitting beside you right now on his bed, his arm slung around your shoulder, fingers tracing abstract patterns on the top of your shoulder. Usually, this would have calmed you down and even made you sleepy, but it achieved the complete opposite right then. You were painfully awake, his feathery touch like electricity against your skin. 

God, you were so fucked. You had hoped that Caleb’s incessant teasing would have put a damper on your sudden, strong attraction towards him, but nothing of the sort had happened. It seemed to have only gotten worse, with you ending up being jumpy whenever he was around, and considering the amount you hung out with him, you were starting to resemble a kangaroo.

Around him, you were constantly tense and always on the precipice of being turned on. To say it was hellish would be an understatement.

“You’re distracted,” he murmured as the credits of the movie you were watching played. Finally, the two of you had managed to find the time to have that movie night you had passed on weeks ago. You shook your head, glancing up at the clock that hung on his wall. It was a little past midnight. 

“Just frustrated,” you said finally, because it was the truth in more ways than one. Your frustration with your writing, or lack of, ran deep, but now it was intertwined with another very persistent reason. Being sexually frustrated wasn’t something you were used to dealing with.

He seemed to have caught on, though, his hand falling from your shoulder to your waist, curling around it. “Why are you frustrated, Pipsqueak?” He drawled, turning his head so that he faced you now. Of course, he’d pick this moment to torment you, when you were already frazzled.

“No reason,” you said quickly, voice clipped. A slow, languid smile stretched out on his lips. 

“No?” He asked, the side of his mouth tilting. “Could it be….”

“Stop talking.” You despised how hoarse your voice sounded. You wanted– no, needed him to stop doing this before it became unbearable. He was your best friend, for fucks sake. The smile on his annoyingly perfect face melted into a smirk that would have had your knees weak if you weren’t already sitting down. 

“I don’t think I will.” He whispered, pulling you even closer as he dipped his head down until his lips brushed against your ear. It was like he wanted you to break, and god, you were so close to doing so. His hand slid up your waist just a little bit. A shiver ran through you, one you couldn’t have suppressed if you tried. 

“Tell me,” He mumbled, the words sounding much too loud even though he was still whispering. “Do your frustrations have anything to do with a certain sex scene you’re trying to write?”

You inhaled sharply.

Rationality was a funny thing. Every bit of it seemed to disappear whenever you truly needed it. Things you had no business thinking rushed through your head, courtesy of your bright imagination that chose the most inconvenient moments to work. Thoughts you had suppressed and pushed aside every time they had the nerve to pop up swirled around.

The spark that you had been trying so hard to put out crackled to life in your core, its flames spreading all across your body like wildfire. You were painfully aware of every part of you that was in contact with him, his hand just above your waist, sitting there so possessively, his breath fanning across your neck– fuck. It was too much, but somehow not enough all at once, and immediately you knew what you wanted.

More.

You snapped. 

Something possessed you as you turned to look at him, a surge of confidence appearing out of nowhere as you drew closer to him. “Yeah.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Right then and there, three things became very clear to you. One: You wanted to write. Desperately and preferably sometime soon, because you did want to finish the first draft before you could go in and edit. Two: For some reason, you needed to have sex in order to get over the mental block you had when it came to writing it. Lastly, three: You only wanted to have sex with one person, and it was the man right beside you.

“My frustration has everything to do with the sex scene.” You said, surprising yourself with how steady your voice was. “But you can help with that, right?” 

Without waiting for his response, you got to your knees, swinging a leg over him and settling down on top. Surprise flickered in his eyes for a second as your hands found his shoulders to maintain your balance, before he spoke again. 

“Pipsqueak,” he started, voice low and careful, attempting to keep the teasing lilt in his voice but royally failing. “What– exactly– are you doing?”

“You told me to ask.” You muttered, dropping your gaze to his lips for a moment before letting it travel back up. “You said you’d do it if I asked. I’m asking right now.” 

Caleb couldn’t respond, still staring up at you, eyes wide and ears a little redder than they normally were. Good. It was about time he had a taste of his own medicine. His hands found your waist again, and he blinked twice, slowly, and you prayed he wasn’t all bark and no bite. 

You wanted him to bite.

“Y/n,” he muttered, “I….I know what I said.”

You raised an eyebrow, your hands slipping up his shoulders simultaneously until they were cradling his neck, playing with his hair at the nape of it. Was he shy? Now? After everything he had said and insinuated, he had the audacity to be all bashful? “So then you know what I’m asking for.”

“Well–”

“Caleb,” You cut him off, shifting so that you were closer. “I’m asking.” 

Conviction laced those words. You could tell he was reasoning with himself, god knows you could read him well enough to know when he was conflicted, when he bit the inside of his cheek before exhaling shakily. 

“Pips,” He rasped out your nickname. “You– you’re sure?”

You didn’t recognise the look in his eyes right then as he looked up at you, but it had you unravelling all the same. You leaned in subconsciously, but he quickly moved one of his hands from your waist to your mouth, covering it as his jaw clenched, still studying you. “I need you to tell me you’re sure, Y/n.”

Oh, so this was actually happening. You could feel the heat of your breath recoil against your face because of his hand. The ticking of the clock in his room filled the charged silence between him and you, his fingers brushing against your chapped lips. You swallowed.

“I’m sure.”

Whatever had shifted in you five minutes ago seemed to shift in him as well now. He let his hand drop from your mouth, shamelessly staring at it. “We shouldn’t.” But he pulled you closer, his arms circling your waist and palms splayed out on the small of your back. 

“It’s for research purposes,” You breathed out, doing your best to justify how badly you needed him. “Please, Caleb, I need–”

He didn’t let you finish. 

You gasped as he crushed his mouth to yours, effectively shutting you up. The pressure of his lips against your own was dizzying, especially with the way they moved; slowly and precisely, as if he was committing the feel of your lips to his memory. You were hyperaware of his touch on your back, the warmth from his hands permeating through the thin fabric of the T-shirt you were wearing.

Pulling him closer, you tilted your head so you could kiss him better. For the number of times you had mentally chided yourself for even thinking about this, it felt remarkably natural to kiss him, your instincts taking over. Your fingers slipped into his hair, entangling in the dark strands and tugging lightly.

Caleb groaned, and you were on fire. 

“God, Y/n.” There was nothing playful about the way he mumbled your name into the kiss, and the unfamiliarity of it sent a shiver down your spine. His lips, soft and just a little hesitant, moved in tandem against your own, slotting in between them perfectly like you were pieces of the same puzzle, meant to be pushed together like so. He nipped at your lower lip before swiping his tongue over it to soothe the sting, and the intoxicating sensation drew out a needy whimper from you. 

The second that sound escaped you, all indecision disappeared from his end, and the temperature in the room seemed to increase, growing hotter with every smack of his lips against yours. Kissing him was addictive, it felt as if neither of you could bear to pull away from each other. 

Without warning, Caleb lifted you off of him and pressed you into the mattress, swiftly climbing on top of you. For a moment, he hovered, looking down at you, taking in the flush on your cheeks and heavy breathing, proud to have been the cause of your breathlessness despite barely doing a thing. Going in once again, he brushed his lips against yours teasingly, before giving you what you truly wanted, the intensity of the kiss taking a turn for feverish.

A hand of his slid up your side until he cupped your jaw oh-so gently, turning your face to the side to give him better access to your neck, upon which he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that had heat rush right to your core. The ache between your legs grew, slowly becoming unbearable, and you rubbed your thighs together with a whine, chasing any sliver of friction. 

“Shit,” he muttered against you, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt and coming into contact with your stomach, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin. Spreading his fingers and pressing lightly, he kept you from squirming. “Pips, you gotta tell me to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you almost snapped at him, impatient and so painfully aroused it was embarrassing. He couldn’t hold back the breathless chuckle that escaped him as he moved lower, teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“If, at any point, you want to stop, tell me,” he gritted out, trying to hold onto any semblance of self-control he still possessed. “I don’t wanna do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

You nodded quickly. “I trust you.”

That was all he needed. Lifting his head slightly, he fumbled with the buttons of your shorts as he leaned back, all his weight on his knees. Once he managed to undo them, you lifted your hips slightly to help him tug them off your body. He settled between your legs, spreading them until the pretty cotton panties you wore were exposed. 

Caleb swallowed, his breathing growing erratic and heavy. The wet patch on your panties was his undoing; everything about this situation was bound to be the death of him, but he was too far gone now. He let his hand trace up to your hips, hooking his finger through the waistband of your panties, toying with it.

“Is this ok?” The column of his throat bobbed as he stared up at you from between your legs. When you whispered a needy yes, he pulled the panties down your legs, his eyes darkening the moment they settled back on your core. 

“Y/n,” He said your name like he was drunk, a certain sense of reverence infused in his tone that had your cheeks kissed rouge. “You’re even prettier than I thought.”

Than he thought? You would have to take the time to dissect that statement later, much too distracted to do so at the moment when he began peppering kisses along your inner thigh, starting from your knee and working his way upwards. The sensation of his mouth tantalisingly close to where you wanted it so badly was almost too much. Just the sight of him there was so erotic that it had your head swimming. You had never felt more vulnerable than you did right then, exposed and willing.

And then finally– finally– his breath fanned out over your soaked cunt, driving you insane. Liquid fire thrummed in your veins beneath the surface of your skin as your anticipation spilled over. He pressed a light, teasing kiss against your clit. 

Caleb dragged his tongue over your slit, licking up it all the way to your clit, which he wrapped his lips around and sucked, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You gasped, bucking your hips up against him, and he chuckled, the sound sending vibrations up your body, from your toes to the top of your head.

“Impatient,” he chided. “Let me take my time with you, princess.”

The new pet name sounded so natural coming from him, and immediately, you knew you wanted to hear him call you that again. He flicked his tongue against the throbbing bud that had been aching for his attention this entire time, positioning your legs to rest over his shoulders. The sounds that left you were shamefully loud, and you had never been more grateful that he lived in a single dorm. 

“Cal- oh fuck,” You mewled when he swiped two of his fingers through your wetness, rubbing your folds. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he all but groaned against you, and you could feel more slick gush out of you at that. “Is this all for me?” 

Your back arched off the bed when he pressed a finger to your dripping entrance, nodding with a sense of desperation you had never experienced before. “Yes,” you exhaled the word as he pushed his finger inside your pussy slowly, your jaw falling open at the pleasurable intrusion. 

Slowly, he began pumping it in and out of you as he continued to give your clit the sweet attention it deserved, basking in the noises that you made. The pads of the fingers of his other hand dug into the flesh of your thigh, keeping you nice and spread out despite all your attempts to shut your legs around him. 

When he introduced a second figure to your cunt, your hands found purchace in his hair, gripping and tugging as you panted, unable to focus on anything else. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tips of his fingers brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars, crooking inside you so perfectly. It was as if he knew exactly how to push you to the edge.

Your best friend was eating you out like a starved man and you were enjoying every fucking second of it. He could feel your legs begin to tremble, your impending orgasm building. Shamelessly, you bucked your hips against his face, and the moment he realised what you were doing, he increased the pace of his fingers.

“Come on baby,” he encouraged you, flattening his tongue against your clit and pulling you closer, spurring you on even further. You ground against his mouth desperately, feeling the coil in your core draw tight, so, so close.

“Caleb,” you stuttered his name helplessly, but he somehow understood, knowing just what you needed. “I–I’m gonna–”

He scissored his fingers inside of you, hooking them just right as he gave your clit little kitten licks, determined to have you fall apart on his tongue. Your sweet gasps sent blood rushing straight to his cock, which was already painfully hard, confined in his jeans. Taking your mound into his mouth, he sucked harshly, thrusting his fingers knuckle deep in your sex. 

A broken moan escaped you when your climax hit you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your legs shook, but he didn’t let up, grinning proudly against you as he drove his fingers back into your gushing entrance, helping you ride out your high and prolonging it. Once he was satisfied, he lapped at you, refusing to waste even a single drop of your essence. 

Caleb pulled away, and the sight of you nearly did him in. Eyes screwed shut in ecstacy and hair fanned out on his pillow, undoubtedly tangled from all your writhing. You looked like the picture of sin, and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He climbed back, hovering over you again as he licked his lips.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils blown out and dark due to the sheer level of desire that coursed through you. You were stunning, and he was destroyed, knowing that he’d never be able to forget the way you were looking at him right then. The way you tasted.

When he kissed you again, it was different. It was a heady mix of heat and tongue and want, messier than the kisses he gave you earlier, the control he had before nowhere to be seen anymore. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned, reaching out to touch him. 

You started at his collar, dragging your hands down, down, down until you reached the hem of his shirt, whining against his mouth as you tugged at it. 

“Take it off.”

Who was he to deny you? He stopped kissing you, sitting up so that he could pull the shirt off, exposing his torso for you. The way your eyes raked over him hungrily was more than gratifying, especially when they caught on the silver chain that hung from his neck, the pendant sitting on his chest. Tossing his shirt to the side, he pushed your own up your body, exposing the skin of your stomach. 

“Your turn.”

You let him take off your shirt, tossing it to the side and slipping his hands slip behind your back. He silently asked for your permission, which you gave to him in the form of an impatient nod to which he smirked, unhooking your bra and peeling it off of you, letting the discarded garment join the rest of them on the floor. 

One look at you and he was a goner. 

“Fuck,” he could feel himself straining his jeans as he took in the sight of your breasts, so perfect and plush. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate you in all your naked glory, before leaning back down, his mouth back on your overheated skin. He dragged his tongue down your neck, sucking and biting like there was no tomorrow. 

His lips trailed downwards, kissing the swell of your breast before wrapping around your already hard nipple, stroking his tongue against the aching peak. He palmed the other breast, giving that nipple equal amounts of attention and rolling it under his thumb. You hissed in pleasure, breathless as you arched into his addictive touch.

You could barely think straight; everything he was doing to you sent you into complete overdrive. Every touch was criminally good, the simplest of them causing your arousal to increase tenfold. Perhaps it was because it had been so long since you had last had sex, but you had never before felt so frenzied.

Hooking your legs around his waist, you could feel the outline of him pressing against your thighs. Angling your hips, you pressed your bare pussy against his bulge, the roughness of the denim rubbing you just right. He looked up at you from your chest through hooded eyes, earning another whimper as he pinched your nipple.

“You sound so good.” His words went straight to your head. “Tell me what you want.”

He said it like it was a command, and who were you to disobey, especially when you knew exactly what you wanted? 

“I want you inside me,” you whimpered, voice heated with lust. 

How could he ever refuse you? Caleb gave you one last kiss before reaching over to his bedside table, grabbing something from the drawer and sitting up and unzipping his pants. You couldn’t help but stare as he impatiently kicked off his jeans and boxers, eyes widening when you finally saw his cock. 

Fuck, it was big. Long and painfully hard, you could hardly believe he was hard because of you, but the proof was in front of your very eyes. Your lower lip caught between your teeth as you drank in the sight of him, hyperaware of the wetness that coated your thighs. 

He tore open the condom packet, smoothly sliding it onto himself before settling between your legs once. 

“W-will it even fit?” You squeaked, a spike of fear cutting through the lust-filled haze of your mind. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips and pressing your fingers to them, kissing your knuckles soothingly as he bit back a smile. 

“It’ll fit.” 

“But– there's no way,” You spluttered, “It’s gonna hurt.” Not that the prospect of being in a little pain deterred you by any means, you were way too horny to stop now. Complaining was probably the least sexy thing you could have done in the moment, but he seemed unbothered, the dark, hungry glint in his eyes never fading. The amused look on his face, however, was not lost on you, nor was the way he bit the inside of his cheek, fighting a smile. You glared weakly. 

“Are you laughing at me?” You asked, incredulous. “I swear to god, Caleb, you’re going to split me in half, and you’re laughing?”

“Baby,” He breathed, “You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say!”

You wouldn’t even blame him if he decided he was done with you and pulled his pants back on, but nothing of the sort happened. Instead, he gripped your hips, grounding you to the moment. 

Both of you were completely nude, and despite this, you had never felt more comfortable. Not when he looked at you like that, like you were something sacred. 

“Relax, Pips, I’ve got you,” He whispered, sensing your apprehension. You exhaled shakily as he pressed his hard-on against your folds, groaning at just how wet you were. “Eyes on me.”

The way he took control so naturally was alarmingly attractive. You looked up, locking your eyes with his, unable to stay silent when the head of his cock rubbed against your swollen clit. “O-oh.”

He shuddered at the feeling, dropping a little so that he was keeping himself up on his elbows. His necklace swung above you just like you had imagined as he ground against you, but it still wasn’t enough. “Ready?” 

You didn’t think you’d ever be ready, but you wanted it so badly you didn’t even care. Nodding eagerly, you intertwined your fingers with his, letting him press the back of your hands into the mattress. When his tip caught at your entrance, you whined. “Please.” 

Having you beg him like that was dangerous. He squeezed your hands, and then slowly, carefully, sank into your wet heat, inch by devastating inch. Your jaw slackened, loudly moaning his name as he filled you up and stretched you out so pleasurably. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he pushed into you until he bottomed out, going breathless himself. One glance down to where the two of you were connected had him actively having to fight off coming right then and there. 

Caleb was in heaven, and he was fucking delirious. He forced himself to stay still, moaning lowly when he felt your walls flutter around him, adjusting to his size. “You’re doing so well, princess.” He praised, lowering his head to your neck and burying his face in the crook of it, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm himself down. 

There was so much wrong with this, so why did it feel so right? You felt so perfect, like you were made for him.

“Caleb,” You whimpered once the sting faded, letting go of his hands and looping your arms around his neck, “Move. I need you to move.” 

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside of you, before sheathing himself again, causing you to curve off the bed, nails digging into his skin. He did it again and again, nearly growling when he felt you grow even wetter, coating the length of his cock in your slick. Wet sounds that had your cheeks burning filled the room repeatedly.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” He practically growled, contrasting the tender pace he set, telling you he was holding back for your sake. You could feel every inch of him as he dragged against your walls, reminding you how big he was with every thrust.  

Your friendship was potentially ruined, but it felt too good for you to care. With your legs locked behind his back, you gripped his biceps, a wanton moan escaping you as your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure overriding every other sensation.  

“So good,” words were hard to put together, and he understood and nodded, holding your hips so tight you were sure there would be marks, just like the marks that blossomed all over your neck and chest from his earlier ministrations. Right now, though, you didn’t care about that, consumed by the waves of euphoria rushing through you.

Slowly, the frequency of his thrusts increased, rendering you completely winded and unable to do anything but gasp for air. You felt another orgasm steadily build up inside you. 

Then he tipped his hips a certain way, the tip of his cock brushing against a spot that made you cry out his name, throwing your head back into his pillows. The look on your face was something he wanted to imprint in his memory; the desire lacing your voice was beyond exhilarating. 

Caleb could feel his own impending high, so tightly wound because of just how long he had waited for something like this. When you clenched around him, he knew you were close as well, but the act nearly did him in.

“Don’t do that.” his voice was all scratchy and strained, but you promptly did it once again, high off the notion that you were affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. His hips stuttered against yours as his violet eyes flashed. “Fucking hell.”

“Oh my god,” you moaned, “I can’t–”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “I want you to look at me when you come all over my cock.”

Never in a million years would you have thought your best friend would be so good at dirty talk, but the shock quickly melted into obedience as you managed to hold his heated gaze. Reaching between the two of you, his index finger found your engorged clit and rubbed circles against it. 

You squealed, overly sensitive. “Shit–I’m gonna– Cal-!”

“Come for me.” 

Caleb would never forget how you looked: at his mercy, crying out his name over and over like it was a prayer as you came, spilling over his cock with a euphoric sob. He snapped his hips to yours with renewed urgency, drawing out your second climax and prolonging the feeling. When he saw the fucked out look on your face, it hit him at once. 

With one final thrust, he buried himself inside you, coming with a moan, burying his face in your neck once again. His body was damp against yours, his hair tickling you as you breathed heavily. He stayed like that for a couple of seconds, recovering from the intensity of what had just happened.

Wordlessly, he pulled out of you gently, the sudden emptiness you felt having you whimper softly. Peeling the condom off, he tossed it in the bin next to his bed before climbing off of you, muttering something about being back. Seconds later, you felt a warm, wet cloth drag over your core. He cleaned you up, pressing little kisses to the inner side of your thighs.

Once he was done, he gathered you in his arms and pulled you close, kissing your temple. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling away just enough so he could try and gauge how you felt, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone as he cupped your face tenderly. “I didn’t hurt you, right?”

You shook your head and leaned into his touch, completely spent. “No, it was perfect.”

He sighed in relief. You curled into him, and he wrapped his arms around you. “You did so well,” he murmured into your hair, massaging your scalp gently. “You were amazing, actually.” Another kiss to your forehead made you simper as your eyes closed, exhaustion settling into you now that the adrenaline had faded. “Tired?”

“Yeah,” You mumbled. Your legs entangled with his, and he stopped talking, tracing shapes on your back while you drifted off to sleep. He watched you for a bit, savouring the skin-on-skin contact, his mind reeling from what had just happened. 

This was strangely normal, no awkwardness or post-nut clarity hitting either of you. Your body lay against his with all of you pressed up against him like that was exactly where you belonged. He could feel the beating of your heart, strong and steady in your slumber, whereas his remained erratic and fast. This was more than just a taste that he had had of you; it was the entire deal, and the knowledge of it all had his morals scattered and all over the place, because now that he knew what he knew, well.

Caleb wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

At the time, you had justified sleeping with Caleb as research, something you needed to do in order to get it out of your system. You had assumed, albeit foolishly, that once it was over, you’d be able to go back to normal and continue with your life.

But research was an activity that required constant revisiting. Most of it had to be repeated over and over, especially if it included gathering data from an experiment. There was always a control, and then variations of the experiment would be conducted to record the differences in the outcomes. 

At least, that was what you were telling yourself right now as you straddled him, his cock buried inside you.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how this had happened. After that day, everything seemed to be normal, until he showed up at your dorm to help you study for a class he had also taken when he was in his sophomore year. One thing led to another, or rather, one heated touch later, you found yourself under him once again.

And then it happened again, and kept happening. Whispers of it being just for research mixed in with both of your moans became a melody you were more than used to. This was all for your book, after all. For the sake of accuracy and your integrity as a writer.

Definitely not because of how mindblowing sex with Caleb was.

And it absolutely was. 

He had made you completely insatiable for him, and almost every time the two of you hung out in one of your dorms, it ended up with both of you in bed. Every other aspect of your friendship remained exactly the same, though, which left you considerably confused. He didn’t look at or treat you any differently, poking fun and driving you up the wall, staying his usual reliable self. 

Caleb’s hand cradled the back of your head as he kissed you now, fingers entangled in your hair and pulling slightly. You moaned softly against his lips, grinding on him.

You were in one of his shirts, panties tugged to the side since he hadn’t had the patience to take them off, needing to be inside of you as quickly as possible. Despite his earlier hurriedness, the pace the two of you settled on now was almost teasing, slowly rocking against him as you lazily chased the delicious high that you had gotten so used to experiencing these past two weeks. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” he muttered, more to himself than you, hand slipping under your shirt and cupping your breast, squeezing. When he caught you biting your lip, he tutted, letting go of your hair and using his thumb to release it from your teeth. “Ah, ah, don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself, pretty girl.”

“Too good,” you complained in that whiney, desperate tone he had gotten so addicted to. Pinching your nipple for good measure, he smirked up at you when you squealed. 

Caleb quickly learned that he loved having you on top of him. Getting you all to himself like this was a privilege in itself, but fucking you while you wore his shirt? He was on cloud nine. He could feel himself throb in your sweet pussy that welcomed him so eagerly, in turn pulsing around him. 

He cursed under his breath when you started to bounce, eager to get to the finish line with him. He sounded so good when he swore, you’d never understand it, just like how you wouldn’t get how he looked so pretty with a flush decorating his face and sex-mussed hair.

Gripping his shoulders, you tipped your head back, giving him access to your neck. He had taken to marking you up as and when he pleased, new hickeys surprising you every time you glanced in the mirror. Despite his tendency to leave them in places everyone could very easily spot them, you didn’t tell him to stop simply it just felt so good. 

Everything with Caleb felt good, and not only did it feel good, but you felt completely safe. He was so attentive, doing the most to make sure you were never in any pain, often times focusing more on getting you off rather than himself. 

He thrust up into you suddenly, his earlier impatience returning, and you cried out, falling into his chest. He held you, working you through it and dragging you closer and closer to release. One of your hands fell to his torso, tracing the hard lines of his abs and trailing downwards before your fingers found your clit and rubbed.

Shit. If having you ride him was good, being able to watch you touch yourself as you did was unbelievable. When you came, you came hard, and the feeling of it tipped him over the edge. 

You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

You didn’t bother moving, clinging to him even tighter like you couldn’t bear to not be touching him in some way as you came down from your high. He smelled like sex, sweat, and that cologne of his that you loved. It was the reason you stole his clothes so much and why you were wearing his shirt even now.

Your first time with Caleb was the getaway drug, and now you were addicted to him, to having his hands caressing you all over and him whispering praises in your ear. 

“Hey there,” He chuckled, rubbing your back. “All good?”

“Great even,” You mumbled, sitting up properly before finally lifting yourself off of him. You failed to register how jelly-like your legs felt, promptly losing your balance. He caught you before you fell, grinning. 

“Can’t walk?” You could hear how smug he was without even having to look at him. It was then that you registered the burn in your thighs and huffed. 

“Don’t sound so proud about it.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, leaving you to scoff as he helped you to your feet, following suit. “I’ll help you clean up. Do you wanna watch the new episode after?” 

Ah yes. Of course, he’d start talking about anime after taking away your ability to stand. That had been the reason he had shown up at your dorm in the first place, but the moment he saw you wearing his shirt, it had quickly become an afterthought.  

The whiplash you felt was indescribable, and you could only nod, letting him pick you up and carry you to the bathroom. After a quick shower and change of clothes, the two of you settled down with your laptop like nothing had happened, your head resting on his shoulder as you focused on the show.

Neither of you bothered to talk about your redefined friendship despite having sex regularly. It was just….a new addition. A benefit that you were both taking advantage of, nothing more and nothing less. 

But even as you reminded yourself of that now, you found yourself doubting it.

There was something to be said about formal events. 

You enjoyed getting dolled up as much as the next girl, but that was where the fun ended. Having to sit through the event was boring and not the way you liked to spend your Friday evenings. You would have much preferred staying in and catching up on some much-needed sleep.

The editor of your university’s paper, Jenna, had organised an affair that was being held in one of the college halls. She had worked very hard on it, inviting several alumni who were all successful in the fields of journalism and writing back so that the current batch of students had the chance to make connections. It was open to the entire student body, but she had made it clear that everyone on the paper was obligated to attend. 

Connections were what helped people get further in life. You were grateful for the opportunity to interact with industry professionals, but didn’t understand why she had insisted on keeping it a black tie affair. That probably had something to do with keeping up appearances. 

You stood off to the side, sipping on your cranberry juice from a cup that was made for something much more refined. So far, you had spoken to a couple of the guests, but seeing that you had been here for over an hour already, your social battery was slowly dying out. The dress you wore was a black number, floor length, form-fitting and plain except for the slit that reached up to a little above your knee. Perfect for an event like this, not too much and on power with what everyone else was wearing. 

Still, it was a little overstimulating. You guzzled down the rest of your juice and placed the empty glass down on one of the tables. 

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

You spun on your heels immediately at that voice, eyes widening and settling on the culprit who stood two, maybe three steps away from you. 

“Caleb?” You asked in disbelief, taking in his presence. He was wearing a suit.

“The one and only,” he grinned, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Here to rescue you from your boredom.”

“What are you even doing here?” To say this wasn’t his scene would be an understatement. He didn’t like wearing the whole suit getup, much preferring casual clothing. Hell, Caleb hadn’t even attended his high school prom (though when you asked why, he would never give you a straight answer), opting to spend the night in with you instead. 

He looked unfairly good. The collar of his shirt hid those lovely collarbones of his and reminded you of how you had bit down on them the other day, the bottom of it tucked into black slacks. He had even worn dress shoes, instead of the sneakers he so loved and a tie around his neck. The entire getup.

“I literally just told you why. To get you out of here. Are you hard of hearing now?”

You returned his jibe with an exasperated sound. “I meant here, at this thing.”

“Oh. Well, you did mention it was open to anyone yesterday,” he shrugged, grabbing a glass of juice and sipping on it. “So that editor of yours technically can’t complain about me being here.” 

That was true. Still, you found yourself bewildered as you stared at him. He was here. For some reason, even though he was allowed to be here, it didn’t make sense to you. You pressed your lips together and cocked your head to the side, studying him. 

“So you dressed up and came here.…only to convince me to leave?” The notion sounded strange even to you. Why on earth would he do that? He finished up his drink and put it down next to your empty glass, taking a step closer to you. The simple movement had butterflies erupt in the pits of your stomach.

What the hell?

“Stop thinking so much. Do you want to stay?”

You considered it. “Not really, no.”

“Do you enjoy arguing with me for no reason, woman?” he muttered dryly under his breath, his eyes catching on something over your head. “On second thought, I think you should stay a little longer.”

Now you were just plain confused. One moment he was talking about saving you from boredom, and the next he was insisting you stay? Before you could undoubtedly start another argument just to spite him, he took you by your shoulders and spun you around, pointing in a certain direction. When you figured out what, or rather, who he was gesturing to, you couldn’t hide your gasp. 

“Isn’t that the author you like?”

You could only nod dumbly. “Raymond.” Last year, you had a phase where you only read his books day in and day out, absorbing the stories he spun like a sponge. His books were the reason you had decided to start writing your own in the first place, inspired by his storytelling skills. 

Caleb nudged your side gently, “Go.”

“How–” you cut yourself off, looking up at him. “How do you even remember that?” You weren’t sure why this entire interaction with him was throwing you off so much, but you felt completely unbalanced. You hadn’t spoken about Raymond or his work in a long time, so how did he know?  He shrugged noncommittally. 

“I know you.” He said it so plainly, like it was something trivial and basic, but his eyes bored into yours. 

Had Caleb always looked at you with such quiet intensity?

He nudged your side gently, reminding you to move. Forcing yourself out of your stupor, you promised him you wouldn’t take too much time and walked over, buzzing with excitement.

The conversation itself wasn’t long, but it was insightful. He answered all your questions about the industry, and you even had the chance to share for appreciation for Raymond's work as well as ask him questions that you had about his novels. You gave him your utmost attention when he gave you advice, but when he started talking about his characters, your eyes and mind wandered.

Back to your best friend, who was waiting for you on the other end of the hall, leaning against one of the walls and scrolling through his phone. He didn’t give a flying fuck about this event, but had still come here for your sake, even when you hadn’t asked him to. He glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and flashing you a small smile.

Oh.

You looked away and back at Raymond, nodding politely and tuning yourself back into the conversation. Internally, however, you were freaking out. Something was very wrong; that was the only reason you could conjure up at the moment for what was happening to you. How else could you explain the sudden sweatiness of your palms, or the odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach? Maybe it was the excitement you felt from meeting the author you loved so much, but even as you considered this possibility, you knew it wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

This could not be happening. You plastered a smile on your face as you tried to pay attention to whatever Raymond was talking about, but the damage was done. Your brain had never been one to let go of a single thought you had, especially ones that had to do with Caleb. He had a hold on you that no one else did, and why was that?

Because you liked Caleb.

The horrifying realisation hit you, startling you out of your rapidly spiralling thought process. Blinking, you realised Raymond was done speaking. 

“Thank you so much for your time,” You said, trying not to sound as troubled as you felt. The author smiled at you before turning to another student. 

Swallowing the newfound lump in your throat, you turned around and walked back to Caleb. This was bad. Having sex with him was already vaguely immoral and probably something that shouldn’t have happened– and shouldn’t keep happening like it did– but having feelings for him? That was out of the question.

“Good talk?” He asked, slipping his phone into his pocket. The genuine interest he had in your excitement made the entire situation worse. Why were you noticing all this now, of all times? It wasn’t like he had suddenly turned into someone considerate. He had always been this way; it was written into his DNA. 

You realised he had even tried to tame his hair for today. “It was great.”

“I’m glad. Now I can steal you away from this place.” His eyes were lit up with mischief, just like they did when the two of you were younger and he did something he wasn’t supposed to. Ever the rebel, this one. 

You felt a little guilty. All this effort for you? It seemed completely useless. “Okay, but Caleb, seriously, you didn’t have to do this.” 

He frowned. “Didn’t have to do what?”

“This!” You waved in his general direction and then gestured around. “I mean, you don’t even like wearing a suit, but here you are. It’s not like it's compulsory for you like it is for me. You could be doing anything else.” You were rambling, you knew, but it was hard to stop. He rolled his eyes. 

“Has that stopped me before?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“I show up to your newsroom even though I’m sure Jenna wants to castrate me for breaking the rules so much.” He raised an eyebrow. “I attended that lecture of yours when you had a presentation. You know I’m here because I want to be.” You knew he said stuff like this all the time, you always were the recipient of his support. This was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. For fucks sake, this was the boy you had grown up with. He had seen you fall off your bike, fail tests and puke your guts out when drunk. In each of those situations, he had also been the one to pick you up and bandage your wounds, help you study and hold your hair back for you. 

Did he think it was an obligation now? 

“You….you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that.” You said slowly, but he didn’t let you continue.

“Oh, please. Everyone knows that where you go, I go too.” He flicked your forehead, immediately receiving a glare in return. “We’re like…….” He stopped for a moment, eyebrows furrowing and lips pursing like they always did when he was thinking hard about something. Then he snapped his fingers. “We’re like those yoghurt-granola snack packs!”

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You know.” He decided to explain his stupid analogy, as if your head wasn’t muddled enough. “Those things you can buy at the grocery store. The small yoghurt tubs that have a container filled with granola on top of them? Like, they’re both okay separately, but much better when together. People buy those packs for a reason.” He slipped his phone back into his pockets and beamed at you. “We’re like that.”

Oh my god. That barely made any sense. You weren’t sure if you were mortified because of that terrible explanation or because it hadn’t put a damper on your newfound feelings for him. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

He feigned offence, holding his hand over his heart. “Excuse me? You mean cute, right?”

Right. Wait, no, you didn’t. Ugh. “I think you’re ridiculous.”

“Are you coming with me or not, Pips?”

“But Jenna insisted-”

He rubbed a hand over his face in annoyance before fixing you with a droll look. “Would you rather be here or be with me?”

Be with you. 

You ignored the way your stomach flipped. You didn’t have the time or the mental stability to process everything that was happening to you right now. The logical part of your brain swooped in, telling you that you were just confused because of the sex. Yes, that was it. You did not have feelings for Caleb Xia.

Sighing, you relented. “You.” Saying that didn’t mean anything, after all. Nothing about the two of you meant anything, so there was no reason for you to be freaking out, even if it sounded like you had just confessed. A wide grin made a show on his face when he realised he had won, and he tilted his head towards the exit.

“Finally. Wanna get out of here?”

“Just to be clear, this is not what I meant when I asked if you wanted to get out of there.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, fingers curling around his tie as you tugged him closer. “No? Could have sworn you planned for us to end up in a janitor's closet.”

Caleb bit back a laugh of his own, knowing that making too much noise would get both of you in trouble. After leaving the event, somehow, his guiding hand on your hip had turned into the two of you making out in the hallway. You blamed the mess that your head was in for not realising what a bad idea that was immediately, but once you did, you did the most responsible thing you could think of.

And dragged him into the janitor's closet that was close by.

Naturally.

He braced a hand over your head on the cabinet that you were leaning against, essentially caging you in as he dipped his head to kiss you again. “Pretty sure that was you’re doing.”

“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me first!” You protested against his mouth, but could hardly complain when he kissed you like it was a relief to do so. Honestly, he was probably the best kisser you had ever experienced.

That must have been the reason for your spiralling thoughts. That and the amazing sex that you were so weak to. 

Yep. That’s all. Anyone could be susceptible to such things.

“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself in this dress?” His free hand slipped into the slit at your knee, slowly dragging the rest of the dress up until it was bunched up around your waist. “You’re stunning.”

He couldn’t stop kissing you. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed you out there like he had the right to, because he was well aware of the unspoken rules of this arrangement, but he couldn’t help it. If getting too comfortable with whatever you had going on with him was a crime, a sin, then he was a criminal of the highest order. The worst part? He didn’t feel a shred of guilt.

But you were wearing that fucking cherry lip gloss, and god knnows he had waited long enough to taste it.

Warmth spread over your chest first before it rushed to the apex between your legs. The control he seemed to have over your body was truly astounding. In his hands, you were putty. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” You whispered back, loosening the knot of his tie and pulling it off completely, dropping it to the side. “This suits you.”

His lips twitched. “The suit suits me?”

“Shut up and kiss me, loser.”

He complied, grinning against your mouth as he pulled you into another earth-shattering kiss that did positively nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Stubbornly, you pushed down the feelings bubbling around the confines of your heart, refusing to give them any attention if you could help it. 

You gripped the front of his suit jacket, helping him peel it off his shoulders and letting it join his tie on the floor. Without warning, he pressed a knee in between your legs, and you nearly melted against him. 

Sex was great. Sex with him was phenomenal. This was just the lust getting to you. 

Caleb gripped the leg that your slit now exposed and lifted it, propping it up against his waist. He trailed his fingers against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light yet scorching at the same time. When his index and middle finger pressed against your clothed cunt, you were glad for the hot he had on you, pressed up against the cabinet, because you would have surely buckled if not. 

“Wow,” he mumbled amusedly, pushing your panties to the side and teasing your wetness. “You really like the suit, huh?”

The fact that this type of interaction was now commonplace should have been the first sign that things had gone too far. 

Usually, you couldn’t think straight when he touched you like this, but today it was all a mix of feeling way too much and dangerous, fleeting thoughts that made you want to tear your hair out. 

“Maybe,” You peppered kisses along the column of his throat, determined to get out of your head and focus only on how good he could make you feel. Pleasure and person were entirely separate entities, and you would make sure it stayed that way.

“Suit kink.”

“Never say that again.” 

He only smirked, plunging his fingers into you. All you could do was cry out as you gripped the front of his shirt, momentarily forgetting that you were supposed to be quiet. Quickly, his palm covered your mouth, muffling any further sounds you could make. “Can’t have you being loud here, princess. What if someone catches us?”

The way you practically gushed the moment he suggested someone catch you in such a compromising position was downright embarrassing. Raising an eyebrow, he leaned even lower and whispered. “Oh? You like that?”

You whined against his hand, cheeks flushing furiously. You began fiddling with the top buttons of his shirt, and he chuckled lowly. 

“For someone who likes my suit so much, you sure are trying to get rid of it quickly.” 

“For someone who was dying to kiss me two minutes ago, you talk too much.” You rocked your hips against his hand even as you sassed him back. He moved his hand from your mouth into your hair, carding it through gently, tugging slightly to tilt your head back for him so he could kiss you again, swallowing every sound you made. 

No one could sue you for being attracted to a hot man. That was just biology.

You could feel the familiar tightening of your core, signalling your impending crash. You broke away from the kiss, licked your lips and palmed him over his pants, earning a hiss of pleasure in return. 

“Don’t– don’t do that,” He choked out, and you smirked triumphantly, refusing to relent on your movements. Batting your eyelashes, you stared up at him through them in faux innocence, unaware that it affected him so much more than you thought. 

“Just fuck me already.” You whined, half out of desperation for him and party because now you needed him to fuck you to prove to yourself that this was just sex. To be able to brush away all the compliments he dropped that seemed to go straight to your head, to get the intoxicaing fucking way he kissed you out of your head and away from further dissection. To stop the slow-burning feeling of yearning that was growing inside of you for the boy you had grown up with.

Because you couldn’t possibly have feelings for him. You shouldn’t.

“Fuck, okay,” He slipped his fingers out of you and unbuttoned his pants, releasing his cock. You would never get used to the sight of it, precum already leaning out of the tip; the image itself sending shivers down your spine in anticipation of him. 

He pressed back against you, grinding it against your fluttering pussy, going right back to making out with you. It was like he was devouring you whole, claiming every part of you like it had always belonged to him. You could feel yourself get carried away again, forgetting that this was just something he and you did now. 

And then he froze. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t have a condom.” 

You were too far gone to even care anymore. Cupping his face, you pulled him into another messy kiss, beyond delighted when he moaned, still rubbing his length through your slick folds with a want that rivalled your own. “Put it in.”

Caleb gritted his teeth. “Pips, thats–”

“I’m on birth control,” you kissed his jaw. “And I trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

That was undeniably the truth. He was the one person in the world that you didn’t have to think twice about when it came to anything, no matter what the situation. He blinked down at you, pupils blown wide with desire but somehow still so focused on you, holding your sides so gently as he hesitated, silently dealing with the conflict in his head. 

“I…..are you sure?”

Oh, this sweet, considerate boy. How could you not love him? The thought was instantly forced to be a passing one as you push it away, refusing to acknowledge it. 

“Caleb, if you don’t stick your dick inside of me right now, I will cut it off.” The threat earned you a winded chuckle from his end, the strain in his face from holding back so painfully evident. Realising he needed another push, you looked into his eyes, bucking your hips against him and licking your lips as you purred. “Now, fuck me.”

There was a reason you phrased it like that. Crude and so filthy, the words set out a challenge for him. If there was one thing you knew about Caleb, it was that he could never back down from a challenge. His eyes darkened as he grabbed both your wrists and pinned them together above your head with one hand, positioning his cock at your entrance.

Without another warning, he slammed into you, once again covering your mouth to soften the obscenely loud broken moan that left you. He pressed his fingers against your lips, smirking mischievously. 

“This is what you wanted, hmm?” He groaned in your ear as he fucked you hard, making it increasingly difficult for you to stay silent. You knew he was doing it on purpose, remembering how he had briefly confessed that he liked it when you were vocal, but here? Here it was risky and stupid, and you couldn’t believe how into it you were.

“Yes,” You gasped, biting his hand at a particularly hard thrust, doing your utmost best to keep all your noises to a minimum. He was just so good, and the feeling of him bare inside of you was almost too much for you. 

“God baby, you feel incredible,” he panted, never relenting on his pace for even a second. His breathing was heavy in your ear, almost pained, along with soft grunts that only succeeded in making you even wetter.

“So b-big,” you could only whimper, too caught up in it all to speak properly. 

He had well and truly ruined you for anyone else. Your heart and mind were at war with each other, but your body was perfectly content with how he held you like this. With nothing between you, he fucked you raw, and it felt so much more intimate than you thought it would have. You could feel everything, hyperaware of every touch and kiss and overwhelming drag of his cock in your sobbing cunt. 

For a moment, you almost wished it wasn’t this good. If only you had never succumbed to your desires that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in this position, fighting so desperately against feelings that felt so wrong and right at the same time. All this was supposed to have been a temporary fix, a means to an end. Not the start of something you could never see through. 

When both of you came, it was intense and devastating, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. You could feel him fill you up with his cum and as you went limp, one last terrifying realisation making itself known to you. 

It wasn’t just sex. 

A shattered breath escaped you at the revelation, and you shut your eyes, trying to reason with yourself one last time, but to no avail. Caleb surrounded you completely, holding you up upright with so much care, so deliberately, that it made total sense why you felt this way. With unending affection, he pulled you against him and kissed the crown of your head. 

“Thats my girl.”

Except you weren’t. And it would be better for everyone if you remembered that.

You were writing. 

It had been so long since you had been able to write like this, but the ability had come rushing back to you all of a sudden. Your fingers flew across your keyboard as you steadily typed, focused and satisfied at the work you were producing for the first time in months.

It was two in the morning when you finally snapped out of your concentrated state, yawning as you shut your laptop. Stretching, you quietly padded to your bathroom to get ready for the night and go to bed. You couldn’t believe you had written almost half of the sex scene when even the prospect of starting it had sounded so unachievable not too long ago. 

Courtesy of Caleb, you had plenty of material to pull from.

You splashed water on your face, hoping the cool temperature of it would help you stop thinking about him. To say you were frustrated with your feelings was an understatement; you outright despised them. 

This was your fault, you knew damn well it was. If you were going to get a fuckbuddy, it should have been someone who you weren’t so close to, someone you had no personal connections with. Anyone but the best friend you've had since you were seven years old, who you knew like the back of your hand, who knew you like it was second nature to do so.

Gripping the sides of the sink, you shut your eyes, grounding yourself to the moment. Part of you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How on earth did you let yourself get in such a predicament?

You needed it to stop. For these confusing feelings to leave before things got even more complicated than they already were. Somehow, you needed to forget about them.

But how could you possibly do that? How were you supposed to forget the deliberate way he kissed you, or how good he made you feel when he looked at you that way? How were you supposed to get the scent of his cologne out of your sheets and closet, or pretend like you didn’t know what it was like to be touched by him? 

How on earth were you supposed to get over being in love with him?

You didn’t even notice him walking in. 

Writing for your book again meant that you had fallen behind quite a bit when it came to the work you had due for the paper. As a result, you had to stay behind and work late on the articles you had to present to Jenna, stuck at your desk in the newsroom when it was almost nine-thirty at night.

“Thought I’d find you here.” 

Your eyes flickered up to find Caleb standing in front of your desk, one hand stuffed in his pockets and the other holding a bag of takeout from a diner that both of you liked. He gave you a soft, knowing smile that made your mouth go dry. 

“Hey,” you straightened up in your seat, knowing that your posture tended to get worse the longer you wrote for. “You were looking for me?”

“Not exactly.” He grabbed a chair and parked it next to yours, sitting down. “I just figured you’d be working and forget to have dinner.”

“Oh.”

He was right, and you would have been embarrassed if this hadn’t happened before. Wordlessly, he began unpacking the takeout he had gotten. “Take a break for ten minutes and eat, okay?” 

This was just like him. Knowing exactly when you needed to be taken care of while being well aware you could do just fine by yourself. You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him, apprehensively nodding slowly. 

“Okay.”

You grabbed a fry and began to chew, turning to face him and away from the computer. He looked the same as always, unkempt hair and all. It was like he knew you were tired and a little out of it today without you even having to tell him, falling into a comfortable silence as he ate with you. 

There wasn’t another soul in this world that knew you so intimately. In the past, this wouldn’t have scared you, because you were so used to him and the ways he fit into your life so perfectly. Now, it frightened you to no end, reminding you of how much you had to lose when it came to Caleb. He was the most precious person in your life, which made it so much easier to fear losing him. 

If there were rules when it came to having a best friend, you were certain you had broken all of them. Number one: Don’t sleep with your best friend. Already off to a rough start with that one, it seemed, but there was nothing you could do about it anymore. Number two: Don’t fall for your best friend. You doubted you even needed to go over the rest of the rules. Breaking those two had caused you enough damage. 

Finishing up his food, he took a sip of his soda, noticing you were watching him intently. For the first time in a long time, he couldn’t quite decipher the look in your eyes. It almost felt as if you were hiding it from him on purpose.

He tilted the soda cup to you, silently asking if you wanted some of his. You leaned closer and took the straw in your mouth, taking a couple of sips before looking away. 

Something was off. “Is everything okay?”

You pressed your lips together and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, everything's fine.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at you, reaching out and propping a finger under your chin, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him. 

“Pipsqueak,” He mumbled, dropping his gaze to your mouth for a split second, but it was enough to make you feel like you were set on fire. Like you were made of porcelain, he swiped his thumb next to your lower lip, rubbing away a stray crumb that had stuck there from your food. Then he looked at your mouth again, subconsciously leaning towards you as if he was about to kiss you. 

Immediately, you jerked out of his touch. Guilt ate away at you when you noticed how he reacted to this, the flash of hurt that passed over his face as he frowned. As much as you hated being the cause of it, the way he was looking at you has started to inexplicably hurt. You were unable to stop the tenderness that unfolded in your chest anymore. It was potent, too real to fight against. 

“We should stop.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could think about them any further, inciting confusion. He retracted his hand, the corners of his furrowed eyebrows tilting upwards. “Dinner? Because we’re pretty much done with that anyway.”

You could have taken advantage of his confusion and put this conversation off for a while, but you knew that letting this go on any longer would end up being torturous. 

“No, Caleb,” You looked away, trying to ignore the way your throat seemed to close in on itself. “I’m not talking about dinner.”

“Then what are you talking about?” His voice took on that impossibly soft tone it did when he was trying to understand how you were feeling to properly help or sympathise with you. It was something he did when you were younger and got hurt, and he wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dealing with it alone. 

Sucking in a breath of air, you looked down at your hands in your lap, playing with your fingers. “I think we should stop having sex.”

A beat passed. You could feel the weight of his stare on you. “Okay.”

You weren’t sure where to go from there, your heart pounding within your ribcage like it was trying to escape. The light from your computer felt too harsh and the ticking of the clock hands was unnaturally loud in the stiff silence that settled over the two of you. Clearing his throat, he spoke again. 

“Did…Did I do something?”

“No,” the caution yet dejected way he said it made you blurt that out quickly, refusing to let him think something was completely wrong. “You didn’t. At all. It’s just…..” You trailed off, biting your tongue and regretting bringing this up already. “I….I wrote the scene.”

“The scene?”

“The sex scene. In my book.” The awkwardness in your cadence is foreign to your ears and his. You had never been so apprehensive around him because you had never had a reason to. This was a first you despised vehemently, scorning the way you had to phrase everything so delicately, as if you didn’t, the damage caused would be irreparable. 

“Right.” Now he had an unreadable look in his eyes too, matching yours. 

“Right,” you echoed softly. “So there's no reason for anymore…...research.” Because research had spiralled into forgetting your regular roles when it came to each other. Research had made you aware of feelings that had been dormant your entire life and should have stayed that way. 

In an ironic twist of fate, you had literally fucked around and found out. 

“I see.” 

You didn’t know what possessed you to keep talking when it was so obvious that both him and you wanted nothing more than to move on from this conversation. You risked a glance at him to find him aimlessly tracing the edge of his soda cup, eyes trained on the straw. “So we can go back to being just friends. Regular friends.” 

The clarification made you wince. When his eyes met yours again, you were surprised to find something different in the way he looked at you– those dark purple depths swirling with an intensity that superseded their usual levels, startling you. 

“We’ll always be friends, Y/n.”

Caleb didn’t call you pipsqueak. A minute detail that shouldn’t have shaken you at all, and yet here you were stuck on it in spite of the fact that he had just agreed to being friends again. Or rather, the normal definition of friends, because you weren’t ever anything more than that. You swallowed, turning back to your computer.

“Okay. I should get back to working on this article.”

Your dismissal of him was quiet but obvious. The air had started to get suffocating and you needed as much space from him as you could get until you sorted out the mess in your head, one that was your cross to bear. Your fault.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod and get to his feet, turning to leave, but hesitating for just a moment. 

It was only when he exited the newsroom that you realised it wasn’t any easier to breathe without him there. It felt even harder now, like someone had their foot over your chest and was putting all their weight on it, letting gravity do the rest of the work. You pushed yourself away from your desk, the wheels under your chair smoothly rolling away until the back of it hit the wall behind you. 

Even the impact of that wasn’t enough to shock you out of your misery. Surely, love wasn’t supposed to feel as cruel as it did right now, like claws sinking into your skin and making you bleed. It shouldn’t have felt wrong, but you knew that it was. Perhaps this was retribution for allowing yourself to indulge in something that was so clearly off-limits to you. 

A familiar pressure built up behind your eyes as you turned resentful. The sting of your sorrow manifested as tears welled up and caught in your lower lashes. You shut your eyes, but not before those tears slid down your face, cementing the bitter, indisputable reality of your heartbreak.

Caleb stayed away. 

He had known damn well that whatever was between the two of you wasn’t forever. It wasn’t even real, solely for the sake of your writing and the book you were so proud of. It was his fault for getting caught up in it all and expecting you to never call it off, to stay in that limbo with him forever.

Saying no to you was something he wasn't capable of. Not when he was ten and you were eight, and you wanted the last piece of cake even though it was his favourite flavour. Not when he was fifteen and you used to beg him to let you wear his shirts because you liked how oversized they were on you. Not when you would give him puppy eyes and sweetly ask him to cook those braised chicken wings you loved so much. 

And not when you needed help with writing about sex.

Even if it went against all his morals and everything he had forced himself to believe for the past twelve years he had known you. He had held himself together around you for as long as he could remember, hands to himself and thoughts strictly friendly. Caleb was used to the best friend role. He was good at playing it, even when the script pained him to recite, he did so anyway with a smile on his face.

Because smiling back at him was you. It was always you, with your bright eyes and angelic laughter. 

Caleb had accepted this role when he was only nine years old and had stuck to it ever since. He let it consume him, living in ignorant bliss as he silenced the pleas of his heart and what it wanted, no, begged for. 

How was he supposed to know where to go from here? The script had deviated too much for him to return to its safety. He knew how your lip gloss tasted, sweet and inviting and maddening, just like everything else about you. 

So he stayed away from you and your cherry lip gloss, hoping the marks it had left all over him would fade.

It had been almost two weeks since Caleb last set foot in the newsroom. 

Jenna was overjoyed and Tara was suspicious. The latter asked you where your ‘boyfriend’ was, to which you refused to look at her as you muttered the reminder: he’s not my boyfriend. It felt like you were reminding yourself more than her, lacking any of your usual annoyance. 

You supposed this was your fault as well. It wasn’t like you had made any effort to reach out either, stuck in your pathetic little cycle of self-pity and fear. You felt his absence, though, cutting deep into you and leaving you with a Caleb-sized hole in your life. The last time you experienced something like this was when he left for university for the first time and you were finishing up your senior year, suddenly having to deal with not having him around for months on end. 

At least he was calling you back then, and when you joined him at university, it never happened again. You hadn’t realised what a big part of your life he was until he was missing from it. 

God, you missed him.

You missed that stupid, smug chuckle of his when he knew you were getting riled up because of something he said, and his terrible sense of humour. The smirk on his face when you were losing an argument, and how he’d stick his tongue out when he was concentrating on something. Hell, you missed the sound of his voice and the comfort it brought you. 

After you finished your work for the day, you walked out of the newsroom and down the hallways of the university building. The cool evening air swept around you, making you think of one of Caleb's jackets that was still in your dorm from the last time he had been, draped over your desk chair. You almost wished you had it with you right now. 

Your feet carried you to the dining hall, reminding you of your need to eat through the wall of your troubled thoughts. It was not so much hunger as it was a necessity. Your appetite had been less than robust these past few days, your emotions weighing you down in more ways than one. You didn’t have him to remind you to eat or sleep, or run like a normal human being.

Grabbing an apple to appease your stomach, you bit into it and looked around, mentally going over everything else you had to do that day. Start an essay you had due the next week, beg the members of your group to do their parts of the presentation that was worth a whopping thirty percent of your grade and polish the last scene you had written for your book. 

It turned out that your turbulent emotional state had translated into you being more productive than ever, throwing yourself into your studies and writing like you had never before. Anything to avoid thinking about him and what you felt. An unhealthy coping mechanism for sure, but it worked for you. 

Kind of. 

Unable to stomach anything else, you tossed the core of the apple into a nearby dustbin and left the dining hall, eager to make it back to your room. You hadn’t slept very well lately, and you wanted to get all your work out of the way before crashing. Sleeping, you discovered, was another excellent course of action to take when you wanted to avoid facing something, and at least it wasn’t downright unhealthy. The dark circles under your eyes would certainly thank you. 

When you turned the corner, he was there.

Caleb stood there, just a few paces away from you in all his six-two glory. His back was turned to you, but you knew it was him, deep in conversation with his friend, Gideon. You were unable to do anything but stare, your pulse picking up in speed at the sight of him. You wondered if the chasm he had created between the two of you had affected him as much as it had you. 

When he bid farewell to Gideon and turned, you panicked. When he saw you, you remained rooted to the spot, watching as his steps faltered and came to a stop. He looked almost as tired as you felt, dawdling briefly before speaking.

“Hey.” 

Hey. Hey? Was that all he could say after refusing to look your way for over a week? Your apprehension flared up into anger, and you took three furious steps towards him, your docile stare melting into a glare. 

“You sure talk a lot of shit about keeping you informed for someone who has been avoiding me.”

He winced. “I wasn’t….avoiding you.”

“Oh really? Could have fooled me.” You scowled at him as you took another step forward. You were pissed, and rightly so, but it stemmed more from how hurt you felt rather than any genuine anger. 

Caleb didn’t bother to meet your eyes, opting to look off to the side instead. That stung a little more than you cared to admit. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “Have you eaten yet?’ Barely five minutes around you, and he had already jumped into trying to take care of you. It was so infuriatingly like him. 

Every time he didn’t want to face something, he would deflect and redirect the conversation. Your years together had taught you well, making it impossible for him to sidestep you even if he tried. You could tell he was avoiding you even when you were right in front of him. 

“Stop changing the subject.”

You watched as his jaw tightened and relaxed, something he did when he was conflicted. All his tells were so laughably obvious to you, and yet you couldn’t make heads or tails of how he was acting right now, so forcibly distant and detached, like being close to you was painful. Your eyes burned.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, hating how your voice suddenly sounded so feeble. His eyes snapped back to yours, wide and defiant. 

“I could never hate you.” The finality in the way he said it told you he was telling the truth, and yet, you couldn’t help but fall victim to the doubt creeping into your mind. He was looking right at you now– except he wasn’t really. It was more like he was looking through you. 

“Then…then why?” You whispered, taking another tentative step forward. The space that both of you created, consciously or not, was unbearable. You just wanted things to go back to normal, was that so much to ask for?

“I don’t hate you. You just don’t understand.” 

“Then make me understand!” You threw your hands up in the air in exasperation, wondering what the hell you had to do to make this conversation go somewhere, because right now it just felt like you were running in circles. “Caleb, please, just tell me why you’re avoiding me, because you are.”

He knew he was and hadn’t a single excuse, other than the reason he swore you never burdened you with. You were looking at him so pleadingly, grasping at straws to figure him out, but for the first time in his life, he found himself unable to give you an answer. Instead, his throat constricted, his anxiety keeping him silent. 

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Your face crumbled, and upon witnessing it, so did his heart. Your lower lip trembled like a leaf on a windy day, and you bit down on it to stop it from doing so, doing your best to stay composed. Running a hand through your hair, you let out a shaky sigh. “I knew it, I should have never– we shouldn’t have slept together. That should have never happened and now everything is fucked up, and its all because of me.” 

Yes. No. The answer wasn’t as straightforward as he needed it to be, and it paralysed him. The anguish you felt was on display for him and anyone who happened to walk by you to see, plain as day, as it twisted your features. It felt as if he had been stabbed in the gut when you backed away from him.

Turning away, you walked off. You had ruined things, you were sure of it, and it killed you. Once again, you let the rift between him and you grow with every step you took to escape the crash you had been responsible for. 

A hand on your wrist. You gasped as he caught you, spinning you around and forcing you to face him once again. 

Caleb had followed you into the gardens. 

“Do you regret it?”

The question cut through you, and you gaped at him. The fervour you were so used to seeing in him suddenly returned, burning brightly in his eyes as he pinned you in place with them, his grip on your wrist never letting up. Question for question, with neither of you getting the answers you wanted. 

You scoffed, rapidly blinking away the tears that you felt coming on. “If it's the reason things are weird between us, then yes! I do regret it. I need my best friend, Caleb. I need you.” 

How could you not need him? He was your constant, the one person who had been by your side through thick and thin. You needed him in your life, by your side, in whatever way you were allowed to, even if it wasn’t what you truly wanted anymore. 

He let go of your wrist. “I can’t do it.”

Your biggest fear was coming true right in front of your very eyes, and you hadn’t the faintest idea of how to stop it. It was taking form, bleeding into existence. You were losing him. 

“You can’t do what?”

“I can’t be your friend. I just can’t.” He shook his head, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t bear to look at you. 

Your voice comes out weak. Small. “But you said we’ll always be friends.”

“Well, I lied, okay! I can’t be your friend, not when–” He sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to reign himself in, stopping his outburst before it could happen. It wasn’t fair to you, none of this was, but he was at his breaking point. “I could do it before, but not anymore.”

“Why?” You whispered, those tears you had so valiantly fought off surging back. Once again, you felt like you had been trampled on, pinned down by a merciless gravity that had no regard for your need to breathe. You weren’t sure there was a reason to fight against it anymore. 

He looked up at the darkening sky, deflating. Staying away from you hadn’t made it any better– if anything, it had only made it worse, his yearning to be beside you bubbling to an all-time high. There wasn’t a point in hiding anymore, not when it was turning out to be detrimental rather than soothing. 

“Because,” he paused, peering up at the cloudy sky. He couldn’t see the stars. “I can’t go back to being your friend when I’ve tasted you. How am I supposed to act like I’ve never kissed you when I’ve had you in my bed? To pretend like I don’t know how it feels to have you like that? God, Y/n, I can’t do it.

Caleb, whom you had viewed as strong and untouchable all your life. Caleb, whom you had endlessly looked up to, sounded almost tortured, like it pained him to even have to tell you this. 

“What are you saying?”

You hoped you didn’t look as terrified as you sounded. It felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from beneath you, but the ground underneath it was falling apart too, leaving you to stumble around and try to find your footing amidst the cracks that remained. If you fell now, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to get up.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You had already fallen, and hard. 

Caleb was stripped of his usual self-assuredness and confident smile. He was laid bare there in front of you, fixing you with a look that was so pained it tore through you. 

“I’m in love with you.”

The confession ripped through you, although you didn’t register it at first. Those five words felt so improbable to have been said by him to you of all people that the only thing you could feel was disbelief. It just didn’t make sense. Why would something you longed to hear so badly be said with such sadness? 

He mistook your stunned silence for aversion. He should have stopped there, given up and walked away, but now that he had finally, finally let it out, it was hard to stop. It was like a dam had broken within him; everything he had ever kept to himself when it came to you rushed out all at once. 

“I’m in love with you, Y/n,” he said again, scoffing slightly at himself. No nicknames, just your name spoken in that reverent tone, like you were a divine being he was a devout follower of. “And it kills me because I know you’ll never see me as anything more than a best friend. You’ve made that very clear, and I never want to overstep, so I stayed away from you.” 

“Caleb–”

He didn’t let you cut in. “I could do it when I didn’t know what it felt like to have you as something more than friends. The moment we crossed that line, it was all over for me. I would be your friend until I died if I didn’t know.” His hands were shaking, but they stayed by his sides, fingers curled into frustrated fists as he rambled. 

“I–”

“But I can’t, Pips. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your best friend when I’ve loved you my entire life.” And you’re falling all over again, gravity pulling you down, down, down as something unfurled in your chest. “So please just–”

“Goddamnit Caleb, would you just shut up for one fucking minute!?”

You hadn’t meant to snap, but he was seriously to piss you off, going on and on without giving you the chance to speak your mind. Immediately, he clamped his mouth shut, preparing himself for the inevitable rejection he had imagined too many times to count in his head. You, on the other hand, thought you were going to faint, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened. It was everything you had convinced yourself was impossible.

And yet…

You kept your eyes locked onto his as you closed the distance between the two of you, so close now that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, combating the chill in the evening air. Swallowing, you asked. 

“You’re in love with me?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded. He knew what the consequences were, he was ready for them. It was about time he faced the truth anyway. 

What he didn’t expect was for you to start laughing. 

You clamped a hand over your mouth as incredulous laughter left you, eyes practically sparkling. Oddly enough, it sounded a little watery, like you were crying at the same time.

And then he realised you were, in fact, crying, tears streaming down your face. Alarmed, he stepped forward and cupped your face, instinctively wiping them away with the pads of his thumbs. This did nothing to dampen your hysterical laughter as you leaned into his touch. 

“What the fuck?” He muttered, concern overtaking his previous, heartsick expression. “Are you dying or something?”

“Or something,” you managed to get out, gripping his arms, “We’re so stupid.”

“That…..okay, I’m officially confused. And a little scared.” 

“Caleb,” you whispered once you stopped giggling, lethally soft. You looked up at him adoringly, eyes shining and tinged slightly red from your tears. “I’m in love with you, too.”

He froze, mouth falling open. He didn’t have to say anything, though, because honestly, he had said enough. It was your turn now. 

You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against his palm. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but I only realised after….after everything that happened between us.” You flushed, trying to word it as delicately as possible. “And I drove myself crazy because I thought you’d never see me that way–”

“I’ve always seen you that way.” He breathed out, those captivating eyes of his trained on you in wonder. Butterflies came to life in your stomach. 

“– So I called it off. I said we needed to stop because I was so scared I’d lose you.”

By the time you finished, you were both staring at each other wide-eyed. His grip on you tightened, one hand falling to your waist as he tugged you closer. 

“You love me?”

“I love you,” you nodded. “It just took me a while to figure it out.” 

“Pipsqueak.” You had never been more grateful than you were right then to hear that stupid petname. “Oh my god, we are stupid.”

Without another word, Caleb pulled you into a kiss. You reciprocated instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled against his lips, unable to contain yourself anymore. He kissed you like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do, holding you like you were precious, which to him, you undoubtedly were. It was your first proper kiss with him without any pretence or excuse surrounding it, and you couldn’t have asked for more. 

Chuckling when you dissolved into more giddy giggles, he wiped away any stray tears from your face and rested his forehead against yours. After all these years waiting and hoping that you’d feel the same way, he knew he’d never let you go now. 

“I love you, too.” It was a relief to say out loud and to your face, coming out of hiding and letting the truth of his feelings sit out in the light. You pecked his lips again and hugged him, revelling in his warmth and the delight of your feelings being returned. Your best friend loved you back, and everything in the world made sense again. 

“Don’t be my best friend,” You mumbled fondly, cheek against his shoulder as you laid out your final request. “Just be mine.”

He smiled, an expression so dazzling you’d never forget it. “I’ll always be yours.”

When Caleb looked back at the sky, he could see the stars.

“Are you done?”

“Shh.”

You rolled your eyes, flopping onto the pile of plushes on your bed as you pulled out your phone and went through your messages. To be fair, it had barely been two minutes since you handed him your laptop, but you were impatient, wanting to know what he thought as soon as possible.

Caleb’s eyes were focused on the screen as he read, humming occasionally as he scrolled through the scene. If anyone had told you a year ago that you’d be letting him read a part of your writing, let alone a sex scene of all things, you would have either laughed in their face or had a mental breakdown.

Yet here you were. Life sure had a sense of humour. 

Finally, after an agonising ten minutes, he spoke. “Wow.”

“Is it good?”

He shut your laptop and put it back on your desk carefully, before walking over to where you were. Then, he dropped himself onto the bed as well, purposely caging you in his arms and making sure you were trapped under his weight. Squealing, you hit his arm playfully. 

“Caleb!”

Your boyfriend laughed mischievously, lifting his head so you could see the smirk that curled on his lips. “It was good. Very good.”

You sighed in relief. “Thank god.”

“So I must be really good in bed, huh?” 

There it was. You groaned as you tried to push him off of you, even though you knew it was a futile task. “Don’t even try, you smug asshole.”

“What?” He asked, dripping in faux innocence. “I mean, you did use me for research purposes. Is it not a fair assumption to make?” He was so proud of it, and knew damn well that the entire sex scene he had just read had been falicitated because of him. Every part of it had been pulled from things the two of you had done, the thought of which made your skin heat up and your cheeks burn. 

“You’re so annoying,” you huffed, giving up on trying to get him to stop squashing you. Instead, you adjusted, curling into him. Accepting this, he switched your positions, pulling you on top of him and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You like it.”

“Unfortunately.”

You yelped when he pinched your side, but it dissolved into giggles when he began peppering kisses all over your face. Slipping his arm around your waist, he held you close, grining against your skin. If you had to stay like this forever, in his arms and under the glow of his radiant smile, you would be content. 

“You’re an amazing writer, Pipsqueak,” he cradled your face in his hands, his love for you so achingly obvious in the way he looked at you that you wondered how you had never noticed it before. Rubbing his fingers against your cheek, he kissed your nose. “It would be just as great even if I hadn’t– uh– assisted.”

Though you snickered at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from beaming at his praise for your work. “I’m glad you did though,” you let him pull you closer, arm looping around your waist as you propped a leg over his. “Otherwise we might have never figured our shit out.”

He snorted. “Thank god for research. You would have kept me in the friendzone forever.”

“Hey!”

He silenced any further protests that you could have made, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet kiss. All possible complaints fled your mind the moment he did, eagerly kissing him back. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of this and you had no idea how you had survived for so long while denying yourself of it. 

Caleb had loved you for twelve years, steadily standing by your side and holding your hand even when you couldn’t see it. He had walked beside you through it all, the highest of highs and lowest of lows, lifting you up high over his shoulders with a grin on his face. He would never leave you behind, because he was your home. The one you had grown up with and wanted to wake up to everyday for the rest of your life. 

He had taught you love without imposing it on you, silently showing it to you with every little thing he did. Your best friend. Your love. It had taken you a long time to catch up, but when you finally made it to the finish line, you found him waiting there for you patiently, holding out his hand for you to take. 

The next time Tara called him your boyfriend, you didn’t correct her.

fin.

[m0ri-apeuda]

“SHE WOULD NEVER LIKE US, RIGHT?”

FEATURING: 夏以昼 CALEB (LADS) & 黎深 ZAYNE (LADS)

content warnings: nsfw 18+, mdni, academic rivalry between the two, nerd!caleb x reader x nerd!zayne, cockwarming, oral (fem receiving), double penetration, brat taming, mean!dom zayne, pleasure!dom caleb, overstimulation, creampie

author’s note: this is a req from an anon to write something with BOTH caleb and zayne 🤭 hope it’s something you enjoy :’)

word count: 2.4k

caleb and zayne are renowned for their academic achievements, absolute nerds. they’ve been rivals since childhood. always striving to be ‘the one’ to impress you, to see who could get higher grades. yet you never noticed that they liked you. always focused on how other girls would swarm around them or ask you for their number. so surely they’d never like you back right? plus you had feelings for them both, it would be embarrassing to even say out loud so you just brushed off your feelings.

anyway, they made it clear to you that they ‘hated each other’. however, weirdly enough, despite them stating how much they hate each other’s guts most of the times, they are almost always together. ‘just to study of course’. that’s what they told you anyway but you knew that they somewhat secretly enjoyed each other’s company. it went on even until university despite them being in different stem fields entirely. of course, bad habits die hard. and yes, even though they ‘hated each other’, they were now roommates and continue to argue in their shared dorm every other day about who got a higher GPA.

as for you? you were never the studious kind. it used to have teachers genuinely confused as they took notice of the closeness between the three of you, except..you weren’t exactly as bright as they were.. academically anyway. even in university right now. you’ve learnt that ‘ignorance is bliss’ and that it was better to ignore whatever science nerdy topics they’d go on about and whenever they even tried to involve you in the conversation because the most you’d do is look at them with question marks floating above your head. in response to your confused expression, they simply sigh before brush you off by saying ‘science stuff’ despite their heated argument. you always paid no mind to their behaviour.

however, one day your blood runs cold and your heart is stuttering in your chest. how did you get placed into a STEM course. you realise that you DO have to make sense of whatever caleb and zayne talk about now because guess what? you’re in entirely new course which also so happens to be their specialty. despite your begging and pleading to the university, they simply told you that you had no other choice but to complete these subjects for the full semester. your jaw nearly dropped at their words because it wasn’t as if you were as smart as caleb or zayne to adjust so quickly AND score incredibly high marks in every exam. you were already barely passing your original course what more science.

then it clicked. this was nothing your best friends couldn’t help you with. immediately, you told them the news and swallowed down your own pride to ask for help. to your surprise, they’d instantly immediately agreed to tutor you. under their terms. at that time you didn’t know what it meant but you were way too happy to take notice of the mischievous glint in their eyes when they shot each other a knowing glance.

that’s what had gotten you into this predicament anyway. you were in their dorm for your little ‘study sessions’ where they had promised to help you score well for your course. you were sat between them at zayne’s study table, their large frames on either side of you, explaining to you the most important fundamentals you needed to know. unfortunately, if only you could even focus on what they were actually saying. all you could pay attention was how calebs hand was rubbing your inner thigh of your left leg while zayne just rested his on your right knee, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. something about their full attention on you and the fact that they were touching you so casually made it so much harder for you to listen to whatever caleb was explaining. your mind was already fuzzy and dizzy from their slight touches.

how could they even focus? scratch that, how could they leave their hands all over you and could still explain such difficult concepts simultaneously? their slight feather touches and little readjustments were driving you crazy. you had to fight to push down the heat crawling up your neck as your hands were clenched in your lap. you squirm slightly. the heat in your tummy slowly building up as you just tried to focus, focus on whatever they were telling you. but god, they looked so attractive. too attractive it was overwhelming.

“pipsqueak, you’re listening right?” he asks softly, his voice light and teasing as he taps a pencil on the temple of your forehead. you look up at him and see the visible smirk on his lips. instantly you turn away flustered to your other direction, but instead you make eye contact with a firm zayne who grabs your chin intimidatingly. he forces you to look him in the eye before he clicks his tongue, “looks like our little darling here isn’t focusing very well,” he pauses and his eyes darts to the other, “i think we should do something about her attitude, don’t you think so too?” god, the way he talked to caleb, addressing him as if you weren’t even in the room. it made you even more desperate that it almost made you feel embarrassed by how turned on you were.

you hear the sinister chuckle that caleb huffs out. it makes your knees weak that you think that your legs would’ve given out if you weren’t seated but his next words of ‘oh i believe we should’ made your thighs instantly try to slam shut against their hand that still holds your thighs open.

“oh no, baby.. none of that,” caleb tuts softly against your ear. “we have a ‘method’ to get you to focus…but you need to say yes.” his lips presing against you now. instantly you gulp and nod furiously. you feel caleb’s lips curl at your frantic response but take notice of the other man who looks at you with such hunger just because of the needy look you gave him. god, how you made them hard. oh all the years they spent pining over you. looks like now they don’t even have to fight. zayne’s eyes narrow and search your eyes for any sort of resistance or hesitance. finding none, he instantly leans forward, turning your face and slam his lips onto yours. hard.

before you know it you’re seated on zayne’s cock. he’s buried all the way, the tip nearly kissing and prodding at your cervix as his veins rub against you so deliciously. but you didn’t think it would be this easy, did you? oh no no. they promised that they were going to help you score well in your exams. that was their first priority.

“zayne—ngh! you’re so deep… pleease! i need you..move please..caleb, help me-ngh!” you whine, crocodile tears blurring your vision as you fail to answer any of their questions about the content they had just explained to you. zaynes large palms are presses you down, restricting you from any movement that all you can do is sit on him and warm him up. you feel the way his cock twitches inside you, you’re so so full that it feels hard to breathe even. your toes curl as you kick against his open thighs. you needed friction. your gummy walls can only flutter and flutter around him as you’re so desperate that theres a white ring of arousal to were you connect.

caleb leans his face close to yours, looking up and down at your pathetic state. perched so nicely and snug on his best friend’s cock. helpless and unable to move, tears in your eyes. he just pouts with faux sympathy “baby, if you wanna cum, you gotta answer our questions. how else will you learn?” his voice laced with innocence.

zayne lets out a tch of annoyance at your lack of comprehension, already going cockdrunk just from feeling him inside you. he moves one of his hands up your body to pinch at your nipple. “are you even listening? if you don’t try to even answer us with a reply we want, say goodbye to being fucked like how i know you want us to. i know deep inside you all you want is for us to manhandle you and force you to take it don’t you?” his voice low and serious. he pauses before his hand traces up to caress your jaw sweetly. “but, if you answer us like a good girl and stop thinking with that stupid cunt of yours, maybe we will consider not to leave you needy and throbbing. we just might fuck you so nice and hard that you go stupid on our cocks and bring you over the edge over and over again until you can’t remember anything but our names.”

you let out. desperate mewl at his words. “o—okay..hagh! please— just let me cum.. ngh.. caleb just explain it—hah! one more time,” you whimper pathetically. “of course, sweetheart. we’re gonna make you cum, kay?”

every time you failed to let out respond correctly zayne would slap your clit and make your body jerk as much as possible with his tight arms around you, heeding no mind how your cunt spasms around him with every strike. caleb is also there to reassure you gently and prompt you to get your answers right, giving hints so you could get it right and that they could fuck you. if only you were fuzzy, you’d notice that all this help caleb was giving you wasn’t out of sympathy either. they were taking their time to savour you. to tease you. to devour you whole between them.

eventually they relent on the questions and it almost makes you die from relief. caleb wipes away your tears gently, cupping your face as zayne rubs his hands over your body in an attempt to soothe you. what shocks you next is how caleb grabs zaynes face instead of yours and smashes his lips against his. it’s a kiss fighting for dominance, their glasses hit against each others as their kiss is so intense and full of desire. it makes you whimper and squirm at the sight.

they pull away panting, “aww, princess desperate for some attention too, huh. its okay we got you.” caleb reassures you, all smiley. before you can comprehend anything, zayne grabs your neck and pulls you into a deep kiss, however, he completely controls the kiss and doesn’t let you go until you signal for a breath of air. the moment you pull away, you feel calebs lithe fingers take off zaynes glasses and slides them onto your face, the glass framing your face perfectly.

“lay back and relax now, darling,” now it was zayne cooing against you. suddenly you feel him pull your legs back and it makes you squeal as he bares you open to caleb, spreading you wide, still seated on his cock. his elbows lock underneath your thighs and before you know it, caleb is between both your legs and licking all over your cunt and where you and zayne connect.

caleb smirks against your cunt hearing both your groans. he licks over your cunt in slow, calculated licks, lathering his tongue all over you. it makes you whimper loudly, as you throw your head back at the lewd sight between your legs, the way you can feel the vibrations directly on your cunt. calebs groans and whines as he eats you out. your toes curl and you try to close your legs from the overwhelming feeling but zayne only holds you tighter. you pant and pant so heavily that it fogs up zayne’s glasses. the sight of it making caleb groan as he looks up to see your face.

with your eyes squeezed shut and your head leaning over zaynes shoulder, you miss the brief look shared between the two and before you can process anything, you feel caleb’s lips wrap around your clit and suck hard, his tongue flicking against your clit making you near incoherent as your vision whitens. before you can even ground yourself, you feel zayne shallowly thrusting his hips up against yours and the squelching of your cunt grows louder and louder along with your high pitched squeals and moans pouring out from you.

“let go, princess.” zayne coaxes you.

you cum against calebs tongue and on zaynes cock so quickly that you couldn’t even warn them until your body convulsed between them violently and you let out a broken moan of, “i—nghh! cumming! ah-! z-zayne..caleb!” you cry out.

they don’t respond, solely focused on making you feel good and helping you ride out your orgasm. zayne continues thrusting into you while caleb licks over your quivering swollen clit like there was no tomorrow. eventually it grew too overwhelming, too quick. too much.

you instantly wince and reach down to pull at calebs hair to move him off your sensitive clit but he wouldn’t budge, too pussydrunk on your taste. zayne also continues to grind you against him which heightens the pleasure for your already sensitive pussy. you let out a cry as you were sandwiched between zaynes cock and calebs mouth, no escape or attempts of running were an option for you. only to take it like the good girl you were.

the heat in your stomach was already building up again, quicker and quicker waiting to unravel and burst. zayne reaches a hand to press on your tummy to coax the orgasm out of you faster. again another blinding orgasm washes over you, the feeling of oversensitivity gone.

exhausted, you lay against zaynes chest as he finally releases his grip on yours trembling thighs and at the same time, caleb lets your clit go with a resounding ‘pop’.

suddenly, you see caleb stand up and grasp your face. “you know we aren’t done yet right? we didn’t even get to come.” he smiles with faux kindness. “besides, i want to see your pretty eyes roll back as we make you cum over and over around our cocks, begging for us to let you take a break. we’re gonna make you feel soo good, pip.” he grins.

and truth said, they did exactly that. they had you on top of caleb and zayne behind you. caleb holding your legs apart now as zayne held your hair back so caleb could get a good look at your fucked out expression. face flushed, cross-eyed and hair sticking to your forehead with sweat. every once in a while caleb would push the glasses back up to the bridge of your nose before thrusting up just to watch it fall further down again as you scramble, trying to ground yourself with two cocks inside you. you’re practically drooling from the pleasure as everytime caleb thrust upwards, zayne would pull out. and once zayne thrusted back in, caleb would pull out. the torturous cycle of both your holes being fucked so slow and deep - in and out. in and out. it was maddening and above all, drove you delirious. their sweet moans and groans fill the air along with yours. in the end, you could do nothing but succumb to the pleasure until they stuffed you full of their cum in your ass and your womb.

that semester, you still passed your course with flying colours. that 4.0 GPA all thanks to your tutors who were also now your boyfriends who had made every single lesson ‘efficient’ that all the information was ingrained into your memory :3

you take a screenshot of your results on your computer before sending it to the both of them.

you: look at what i got!!! a 4.0 GPA >.<

you: you better be proud of me

nerd 1 🫶: i guess our good girl deserves a reward, don’t you think, apple boy?

nerd 2 ❤️: i suppose so.

nerd 2 ❤️: meet us at the dorm tonight, princess. same time as usual. love you, our smart girl.