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suhomylife · 4 months

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You know, Mari, your stories convey so much emotions, so much meaning to them, that every time I finish a chapter, I feel the need to sit in quiet for some time to really understand what kind of miracle just happened to me. Like it’s even a bit wrong to start writing a feedback straightaway. I want to keep the feeling of the chapter stay with me for as long as possible, to live through it, to really understand the depth of your words.

And this chapter is no different. I missed demigod a lot, but I did not come back to it on purpose before because I knew my heart would longe for him. And now I’m on vacation in the cozy cabin in the mountains, finally got the time to reunite with Hyathos. I have to say that the fireplace and birds singing really add to the story. So I spent some nights rereading the chapters, and I knew by the middle of chapter 2 my heart would be broken at this update.

I would really love to thank you for showing us how hard it felt for him this time. To see the burden Hyathos is carrying. The choices he has to make, despite how hard it is for him. Their love, their bond is absolutely divine. The way you convey their love, their feelings in small jesters, thought, in the love making is absolutely out of this world. Also, the mythology you have created for this story deserves an encyclopedia of its own. How you made all the characters, all the events connected to each other, no one stands out, absolutely no one is random in the story.

This is a masterpiece.

I want to thank you for doing some justice to our boy Ji. We all know he is a good person, and it’s beautiful that you gave him a chance to show it to us. And the reunion of Hyathos with his little sister…. My eyes are still watery from this episode. She came when he needed her, and he found out that he loved, was loved by a man, and had beautiful babies. That is something he could never have with the MC. But…if Kyma could, so maybe she could also? Be happy, be loved, and love?

Also, it took me three chapters to understand the meaning of ‘Hyathos thrives in the shade’. He loves Feliks, but he was never mean to be under the light all the time. Like…this is genius, girl! How you came up with this all? I can only imagine the way your brain works.

I love this story with alllllll my heart and i am extremely curious to know what goes on next.

Thank you, Mari. Million thank yous. You are the most talented author I have ever read.

a murmuration of starlings | a lullaby on his throat chapter three

pairing: demigod!hyunjin x afab reader | wordcount: 19.9k | genre: mythology au, romance, smut | warnings: mentions of past breakups ; complicated feelings ; fluff/angst/comfort ; mild themes of jealousy ; explicit sexual content. View all compiled warnings here (+nsfw warnings). This work is for adult audiences only. > view a guide to Lullaby's mythology here.

To one, love could be like a murmuration of starlings and to the other it was the sharpest of blades. One was not better than the other—nobody could condemn a desperate person who chose the blade if the knife loved them back.

Arthur Calverley lived alone in his house which was located in a port city—the house served also as his art studio since he could not afford to pay rent for two separate spaces. It did not matter though. He lived for art and Arthur did not mind living among it too.

His life was no more than a series of little routines. He woke up each morning and fixed himself some breakfast which he ate with two cups of strong tea. He didn’t like to paint in the morning so he usually went for a stroll by the docks for a little session of people-watching and to breathe some fresh air too. Once in a while he would purchase a light meal and eat on his own, with a beer on the side to chase the salt and the sea flavors down his throat.

If he needed to buy paint, he would do so before returning home. He trusted only one man to sell him good-quality supplies, and while Arthur did not really like to make conversation, he didn’t mind staying over at Taylor’s for a little while, chatting about art, yes, but about other things as well. Life, the economy, the weather. He was known for his paintings but he was not rich from them—they were adequate, sure, but no more.

Still, he painted.

It was his everlasting loneliness, perhaps, that made Arthur paint in grays and blues and dark greens. He painted forests and foggy seascapes. Sometimes he painted portraits, although he was not very good at them so he usually avoided including persons in his pieces. But if he chose to paint a market on a rainy day he simply painted faceless people. Who cared what they looked like anyway? Who cared about some strangers’ facial traits or even the color of their hair?

His seascapes sold the most, so Arthur revisited the theme often just so he could make a living. There were years where he did not sell as many pieces as he would have hoped and he had to take on odd jobs here and there—sometimes, Taylor would bring him along on his trips when he went to scout for new pigments.

This year was this sort of year. It rained every day, it seemed. Few people traveled—few people came to art galleries too. Arthur sometimes helped unload boats at the docks in exchange for a free meal and a few coins. He went home smelling like the sea and like despair, but it was at night that Arthur liked painting the most. Something about the lighting of his favorite oil lamp and a few candles scattered around the room just made him want to saturate canvases until the sun rose.

Arthur Calverley lived alone in his house located in a port city and he liked it this way. But on two occasions he met strangers who captured his curiosity.

The first one never gave him his name. Arthur met him as he was leaving the docks after a day of work there—there had been a big shipment of silk from the East and Arthur had been rewarded with a good pay at the end of it all. His body was tired and aching, so he walked unhurriedly towards his home, his gaze often turned to the sea. That had been when he had seen him, the stranger. Long, brown hair floating in the soft breeze, standing with his two bare feet in the sea. He was staring at the setting sun wearing no more than trousers and a basic blouse—Arthur had quickly worried that this man would catch a fever if he stayed out there in this weather.

The stranger never gave him his name but he was stunningly beautiful. His big, strangely-colored eyes fell upon Arthur like a blessing. He was tall and lean, his body both elegant and a little gauche but it was difficult to describe how, with words anyway. If Arthur had been good at portraits, he might have been able to convey it this way, but even then, he wasn’t sure that even the most skilled painters would ever be able to capture his beauty. Every movement was graceful and confident and noncommittal. “Where are your shoes, sir?” Arthur had asked him. “What are you doing out here in the cold?”

The stranger had full lips of the same color as a muted sunset. “Just looking at the sea,” the stranger had said. From up close, he was even more beautiful, and the air surrounding him smelled like the earth, like rain, like a sunset.

Arthur had asked if he had come on a boat. The stranger had given him a nod—it made sense that the beautiful man came from the same place as the silk had. His hair looked smooth, smoother than the silk in those crates Arthur had moved around all day, and the same could be said about his skin.

“Do you have somewhere to go, sir?”

A slight shake of the head. “I’ll just stay here.” The stranger had offered Arthur a faint smile. “Just looking at the sky. And the sea. Have a nice night, sir.”

But Arthur did not have a nice night. In fact, he could not sleep, not even after a couple of glasses of the cheap gin he kept. That night, he put his clothes back on and returned to the exact spot where he had seen the stranger, but nobody was there. Arthur never forgot the man’s eyes and his lips. His thoughts often wandered back to him when his cock was in his hand. He liked the way it felt when he touched himself imagining it was the stranger’s plush lips hugging his length instead of his own fingers.

Arthur Calverley met the beautiful stranger again eight months later exactly. It was the beginning of fall and the wind was crisp as he made his way to his favorite inn. It was his favorite because it was never crowded and the beer was decent. He had sold two paintings this past month and he wanted to celebrate. To Arthur, celebrating was to sit in a quiet corner of this inn, drinking beer and enjoying the feeling of having a few coins in his pockets.

His parents lived in London and he had not seen them since the age of 16 when his mother caught him and his best friend kissing behind the house. Just a kiss, no tongue even. But his mother had told Arthur that it was wrong. That he should marry a woman and that he shouldn’t kiss boys. Arthur didn’t really like to have company and the idea of marrying—a girl especially—filled him with dread anyway. So he had gone away, and now he was painting his sorrow onto canvases. It wasn’t much, but he had to keep going, didn’t he?

Arthur was two beers into the night when he saw him. The beautiful stranger from the beach. He wore nice clothes tonight—black slacks and a jacket. He had elegant shoes, and he still carried this unusual but enticing scent with him. He crossed the inn, dodging a serving girl and two men who looked like they were about to brawl and sat on the unoccupied chair across Arthur, sliding a glass containing an amber liquid in front of him.

“We meet again,” the stranger said. He had a strange intonation to his voice, but not unpleasant. It reminded Arthur of intricate music. “How have you been?”

Arthur could not believe it. “I—huh—” It took the painter a few instants to gather his thoughts. “You really remember me, sir?”

The handsome man chuckled, taking a sip from his own drink, leaving his lips wet with whiskey, shimmering under the flames from the lamps. “Of course I remember you. You were concerned for me.” He motioned toward the glass he had brought for Arthur. “For your kindness.”

He raised his glass at Arthur and drank more. Arthur mirrored him and the taste of the liquor shocked him. It was the absolute best whiskey he had ever drank. It tasted smoky and sweet—it was obviously very expensive. Clearly, this handsome man was not homeless. “No need to thank me,” he assured. “You appeared… lost. I even returned to check on you during the night,” Arthur recalled with a self-deprecating smile. “Couldn’t sleep knowing that a barefoot man was spending the night outside.”

The stranger offered him a smile that made Arthur’s heart flutter. It did not matter that his mother had cursed him for kissing his friend. Nothing could change that about Arthur—some men gave him butterflies in his stomach.

“I was lost,” the other admitted. He paused there, swirling his glass and watching the whiskey inside of it. Arthur let him, using that opportunity to observe him better. His soft brown locks falling on either side of his perfect face, the curves of his nose, the shape of his lips. “But isn’t that what people do here? Feel lost? And feel compelled to find themselves again?”

It was obviously a rhetorical question and yet it left Arthur wondering. What did he mean by here? This tavern, this city, or perhaps this country? Arthur had never traveled across the sea, but a part of him believed that the precarity of the human mind transcended continents. That even if this beautiful stranger had come on a boat from a distant land, he would understand such sentiments.

Or perhaps not. Maybe he had never known this sort of dejection before. Maybe the stranger was the son of a powerful king and he had fled his home in disgrace. Or maybe he was the head of a rich family and had left them, having lost himself among them. Maybe he was looking for something here, he just didn’t know what yet.

It felt nosy to ask. Arthur cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. “Those are wise words, sir. It seems to me like you’re not quite sure of your place in this world.”

The beautiful man laid his eyes on Arthur again, causing him to blush violently. It seemed as though his gaze pierced right through him, but not painfully—it felt more like a kiss than a blade. “I must admit you’re right.” Then, “Please don’t call me sir.” But he did not give him a name to call him with. “Do you know your place in your world?”

Arthur shrugged. “Yes and no. I don’t think there is a definitive place for anyone. To most, my life is insignificant, and they would be right to say so.” The man was listening to him, drinking his every word. Arthur was normally shy and did not like to talk to people, especially not strangers, but he found it easy to speak to the inhumanly pretty man. “I wake up, I go for a walk. Sometimes I do a little work on the docks in exchange for a meal and to pay for the oil in my lamp. I like to paint in the warm light of it.”

The stranger raised his perfect, thick eyebrow. “You paint? You’re an artist?”

“I paint. I paint seascapes and stuff. It’s not enough to make a living out of it, so I don’t think I count as an artist. When I die, no one will remember me. I’m not like those people whose paintings are in London, or Paris, or Firenze.”

“But you paint,” he insisted. “Would it be rude to ask to see your work? I will pay for it, just like I would pay to enter any art gallery or museum.”

Arthur found that request equally endearing and scandalous, and yet he would have done just about anything just to stay in the presence of this man a few minutes longer. He accepted—they both hurried to finish their drinks and left the tavern.

The night was cool. They walked in silence for a while, until the stranger raised his arm to point at a vague spot on the beach. “This is where you found me.”

“That would be there, yes.” Arthur watched as the man’s arm fell back, as elegantly as a ballet dancer’s would. He found nothing else to say, or rather, the lump in his throat prevented him from speaking with ease. It was one thing to be with him in a public space, and another to be alone with him, in his house…

The stranger remained by the door while Arthur went around the living room to light up a few candles and a lamp. “I—huh—I’ve been working around the docks a lot, I reckon the smell must linger in here…”

“Don’t worry.” The stranger smiled again. In this light, he was even more beautiful. “I’ve spent a long time in a small village with very little company except for fishermen. The smell of the sea does not bother me.”

Arthur received this piece of information like one would hear a prayer. Arthur’s parents used to drag him and his siblings to church every Sunday, and he hated it. He just did not understand devotion to an invisible, hypothetical entity. But tonight, he felt truly privileged to be gifted a piece of the stranger’s past. “A village?” Arthur knew a few fishing villages not too far away. He had a cousin there. “Where?”

“An island. A long way from here,” was all the man responded, and Arthur respected his privacy.

Carrying the lamp with him, he showed him the way to the studio. He only had three paintings there, lacking money even to buy supplies. There was also something rather disheartening in painting just to see the canvases piled up here, unwanted. Only two paintings were completed—the third remained unfinished, although it was almost done.

The man looked at the art for a long time in complete silence, taking the lamp from him to look very closely. Arthur let him—he was used to his paintings being studied like that. Sometimes it was out of genuine interest, but most of the time, rich people just liked to pretend they knew anything about art, so they looked at his paintings for a while, angling their heads in different ways, humming inaudibly. They’d make up something to say, using words they had heard before, and either buy the painting or not.

“You have a lot of talent,” the man commented, moving to the canvas that was still on the easel, waiting for its final coat of paint. “How does it make you feel? Painting?”

What an odd question. Arthur was used to how long have you been painting or how much do you make selling those—definitely not questions like that one. Again, the stranger’s words made their way through his flesh, settling in his heart and releasing a diffuse warmth within him.

Arthur weighed his words carefully. It seemed to him that this man needed to hear this answer. It seemed like he was asking Arthur a question but that the answer would reveal something about himself. He didn’t want to mess it up.

And yet, the answer was easy. “Alive. It makes me feel alive when I paint. I have nothing else.”

The man nodded slowly. He was very close to him now, his scent tickling Arthur’s nose. “I can see that,” he murmured, turning to Arthur after leaving the lamp on a table, scanning him. His eyes, his hair, his lips. Arthur was looking at his, too. “You paint from your soul.”

Nobody had ever said something like this to him, not even the owners of the art galleries at which he exhibited his pieces once in a while. Not even the people buying the pieces. No one. Tears welled up in Arthur’s eyes as the warmth in his chest spread to the back of his neck and his face. Ashamed, he went to look away, but the stranger didn’t let him—gently, he pressed two fingers on Arthur’s cheek, forcing him to hold his gaze.

“You talked about those artists in those places. London, Paris… Why aren’t you there, too?” he questioned with a slight frown. “It’s where you want to be, isn’t it?”

Arthur could feel himself melt. The fingers were still on his face, spreading fire all over him. “It’s where the masterpieces are. Those are just paintings.”

The man tilted his head ever so slightly. “On whose authority? Who decides what is a masterpiece and what isn’t?” He brought another hand to Arthur’s face, cupping his cheek. His skin was smooth and warm.

“History. Only time, and history, and legacy will tell.” Arthur had always been prepared to be forgotten—he knew that his art would never be shown in Paris, that it would never matter. But he painted because it was all that he could do. It was all that he had, all that he was.

A nod. “Two landscapes and a seascape,” the stranger went on, “but not one bit of blue sky, not one ray of sunshine, none of its warmth.” The words did not sound like an accusation or a complaint. If anything, they were spoken just like praise would have been. “And yet, so much beauty. Do you really think that things can be beautiful in the shade too?”

There were tears in the stranger’s eyes, much like they filled Arthur’s. “Yes, absolutely I do.” He thought about it for a minute, sensing that this was very important for this man. “I like the way the waves look under the sun, when they sparkle. But it can be blinding if you look for too long—dizzying even. I find that the sea is most pleasant to watch just a few moments before sunrise, when the sky isn’t quite blue yet, when the light doesn’t reach us directly.”

The stranger gulped, pulling Arthur closer to him. His breath smelled like sweet apples and whiskey.

And he kissed him. And Arthur kissed him back. He was a little drunk from the beers and the liquor, but he wouldn’t have resisted him even completely sober. It had been an eternity since he had been touched, since he had been felt. The stranger’s mouth was warm and wet, and yet his kisses were slow and methodical. They did not gain in speed, but they became deeper, warmer. Clothes sticking to bodies, hands traveling all over, pulling each other closer. A jacket being pulled off, another. A shoe. Buttons being undone.

It was dark in Arthur’s bedroom and part of him wanted to ask him to wait just a moment while he lit a candle just so he could see him. But it could not wait, so he felt him under his fingers while the stranger kissed his neck. His body felt beautiful. In that moment, Arthur wished he had not been a painter but a sculptor—he would spend eternity trying to recreate this body, chiseling marble and wood and ice if he must.

This is what happened that night—they kissed for a long time, and the stranger took Arthur’s hard cock in his warm mouth, sucking him off as gently as he had kissed him. He regularly came to a stop to collect precum and swallow it, although sometimes he would just smear it with his spit all over his cock. They did not say a word, but Arthur pulled him back up for a kiss and took the stranger’s cock in his hand while chasing his own taste in his mouth.

The stranger fucked his hand in deep, slow thrusts, the tip of his long cock hitting Arthur’s thigh, sending sparks of intense pleasure through his core and his spine.

They kissed and they kissed and they kissed, rubbing onto one another. When the stranger returned between Arthur’s legs, he released a large amount of spit onto his hand, smearing his cock with it, but letting his fingers continue their journey to his ass. This is how Arthur came—his tip hitting the stranger’s throat as he fingered him. He had been with men before but it had never been this good. He came a lot and the stranger took his load, swallowing it in the dark, making sure to leave kisses on Arthur’s spent cock after. Let me, he said. He wanted to taste his cum too.

The stranger fucked Arthur’s mouth deeply, in short, shallow thrusts. He was big enough that Arthur struggled for air but it made him feel alive, and the stranger’s moans were as pretty as him. He came soon, flooding his throat with sweet-tasting cum, keeping Arthur’s head in place with a fist in his hair. It was the happiest Arthur had been in a long time, maybe ever.

The stranger kissed him again, but Arthur was suddenly very sleepy. They lay in his bed, and he wanted to hold the beautiful man, but he fell asleep before he could.

When Arthur woke up, he was gone. The sky was gray in the small window of his bedroom. He found his clothes neatly placed on the empty side of the bed, with a generous amount of money next to it. Arthur felt like a different man then, like the warmth that was in his chest last night was still there. Like it would never leave.

Years went by. Arthur never forgot the nameless stranger, or the taste of his cum, or the feeling of him. He painted whenever he could, no matter how few paintings he sold. It was the closest it felt to being kissed and desired and devoured. He worked a lot on the docks and even in the town. His body grew tired—too tired for a young man his age—but Arthur kept going.

One day, the tiredness became unbearable, perhaps because of the strange sensation in his chest, like something was tugging at his heart. He was unable to even finish his work that day and went home even though it meant he wouldn’t get paid today. In fact, he barely made it home, walking under the scorching July sun, lightheaded, barely conscious. When finally Arthur reached his house, he removed his clothes, dirty from work, and collapsed onto his bed.

And he dreamt of light.

Arthur had never had a dream like this, a dream where it felt more like being awake than asleep. A dream that felt truer, more authentic than his daily life.

Yet, Arthur knew he was in a dream because his chest no longer hurt him, because he was in a place that couldn’t have existed, because a man made of light was standing some distance away from him.

He was in a meadow. It was dusk, and the color of the sky was so delicate that it kept Arthur’s attention for a few seconds—a lilac softer than silk, yet mysteriously dark. The tall grass caressed his ankles, swayed by a warm breeze.

The man walked slowly toward Arthur. It was at that moment that he realized that he was just as naked as when he fell asleep. He waited for panic and shame to hit him but they never did. He only felt peace.

He only felt the light. It came from him, from the beautiful man with the pale hair. It was neither blond or white, it was as though it was made of the same material as the sun. Arthur had only seen one person as beautiful as him before—the nameless stranger.

“Hello, love.” The man spoke with a deep voice that resonated in Arthur’s body like an earthquake. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Waiting for him?...

The man was closer now, standing right before him. Arthur squinted, blinded by the light, fascinated with the man’s eyes. Their color changed every millisecond it seemed—some colors that Arthur had never seen before, that he could only dream of blending with his oils. Just below them were constellations, real constellations, not freckles. They twinkled like real stars, golden and silver and red and periwinkle and deep red.

“Come and show me.” The man offered him his hand and Arthur took it. He felt safe here, he felt as though no harm could ever come his way.

“Show you what?” he asked, looking around. The field was surrounded by a beautiful, lush forest, but there was a large cypress beyond the treeline, within the confines of the clearing. Arthur had never seen a tree like that.

“Everything, Arthur. Come.” He was guiding him toward the cypress so Arthur simply followed him. His hand was small in his, like his feet, but he regularly looked behind him as though to check on Arthur. Every time, his heart-shaped lips turned into a smile.

When they made it to the tree, the man let him go. Arthur found himself missing the contact of his skin with his, craving the peculiar heat that emanated from him.

The man took his other hand. Arthur had never believed in much in his life, but he thought that this man was an angel. He thought that the other man had also been an angel visiting him. He had fucked his throat and fingered his ass and made him feel whole for an instant.

This one, however, gave him his name. “I’m Felix,” he said. When he said it though, it sounded more like Felixx, or Felixs, with a weird emphasis on the last syllable. It was pretty in his mouth though. “I need your help.”

“My help?” Nobody had ever needed Arthur for anything in his life, certainly not a being like this. He emanated strength and peace, something powerful.

“You met someone some time ago,” the man said, walking backwards, stopping only when his back hit the tree. “A man.”

Arthur knew immediately. “Yes. Do you know him?”

“We loved each other on these grounds,” the angel explained. “Come and kiss me.”

There was not a molecule in Arthur’s body that wanted to resist the beautiful angel, so he kissed him. Felix wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer, devouring his mouth. His tongue was hot and kissing him felt like drinking a cup of scalding hot tea, but sweeter. “You have some of his taste on you. Did he tell you something? Hyathos?”

Hyathos. The beautiful man’s name, surely—Arthur thought it fit him. He kissed Felix again, nibbling at his pretty lips, hungry for more. As though he was running out of time even though time seemed insignificant here. There was only the warm breeze, there was only the light in Felix’s hair and the dusky sky and the forest. Nothing else existed, nothing else mattered.

Arthur thought about it for some time. “We didn’t talk a lot, but he asked about my paintings.”

Felix nodded, pulling away from Arthur’s face so that he could look him in the eyes. Gently, he caressed his temple, his hair, his lips. Time was insignificant here but it was also fleeting. It was everything. It was nothing. Arthur knew he was dreaming because nothing here made sense.

“Your paintings,” Felix echoed, his hand traveling to Arthur’s neck, his shoulder, his waist. His cock. “What was he looking for?”

Arthur felt a familiar and pleasant rush between his legs as Felix rubbed his hardening length. He was hard too—Arthur could see the tented bulge in his tunic. He felt no timidity, had no problem stealing yet another kiss from Felix, did not hesitate to roll his hips to fuck his hand a little. Arthur had been tired for a while, sometimes even too tired to get himself off. He felt nothing of the sort here. He just felt the soft grass beneath his feet, and Felix’s warm hand.

“Shade,” Arthur revealed between lewd, wet kisses. “I think he was looking for beauty in it.”

Felix tugged at his cock, eliciting a few moans from Arthur, causing him to lose control. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted Felix. He pulled his tunic to reveal his cock, reveling in the sight of it—it was pretty and smooth, perfect in every way. It was hard, so hard.

Arthur took Felix in his hand too, squeezing his length until his breathing became labored, until Felix fucked his hand too. “I have a favor to ask, Arthur,” he managed, his face buried in his neck.

“Anything.” Arthur let himself fall on his knees, coming face to face with Felix’s pretty cock. He wondered if he would go to hell for this. He wondered if he would go to hell for fucking not one, but two angels. “Anything you want, Felix.” He opened his mouth and took Felix’s tip between his lips, tasting him. He tasted like light, like an afternoon, like his demise.

“If I give you a message, can you give it to him? To Hyathos?”

Maybe angels couldn’t communicate together. Maybe they were estranged from one another, Arthur didn’t know. All that he knew was that he would do anything that Felix asked of him, because what else was he going to do?

Arthur looked up. He gave Felix’s cock sweet kisses. “Yes, yes.” He didn’t know if he would ever see him again—Hyathos. He hadn’t seen him in years. “What is it? What’s the message?”

There were no words for it, it seemed. Arthur knew he was dreaming because Felix gave him the message with his body, kissing him all over, caressing every part of him. He fucked him too, Arthur laying in the grass and Felix over him. He fucked him for an hour, a week, an entire lifetime, whispering things to his ear, things in a language that Arthur did not know. Felix was fucking him in quick, deep thrusts, groaning, sometimes tugging at Arthur’s cock, sometimes kissing his shoulder. He came deep inside him, filling his ass, and nothing had ever felt as good as that. He made Arthur cum. He made him watch his seed spurt into the grass beneath them, his cock still inside him, his cum running down all over Arthur’s ass and thighs, sticking to the blades of grass on which they lay.

And then Arthur woke up. It took him several seconds to understand that he was not under the cypress tree, that he was not with Felix. He sat on his bed, shaking, feverish. The ache in his chest had returned. He was painfully alive, painfully mortal. There were a lot of cum stains on his sheets and his body was covered in sweat.

And yet he carried something within him. Something that transcended all of this.

Arthur got up. He lit up candles and his favorite lamp. Naked, he stood at his easel. He had already prepared a canvas, planning to paint a misty river landscape when he could. But the plans had changed. Everything had changed.

Arthur had never painted light before.

But that night, he did.

For days and nights and days, Arthur painted. He was not hungry. He was not thirsty, although sometimes his mouth felt dry, which compelled him to wet his lips a little. He painted, following Felix’s instructions perfectly despite the fact that he gave them in a strange language. Arthur did not sleep and did not leave the easel until three days later when he ran out of paint.

He hastily put on some clothes and made his way to Taylor’s. The merchant seemed surprised to see him in such a state and questioned him. “Are you alright there, friend?”

“Just fine. Need paint.” Arthur was used to the store and had access to anything he wanted, so he just went around the corner and grabbed whatever he needed.

“What are you painting these days then?”

Arthur didn’t feel like talking and yet the secret was too heavy on his mind not to say anything. It felt as though he knew he had to say something. “I had a strange dream. It… inspired me. I’ll call it The Cypress Tree. You’ll see, Taylor. I never painted anything like this before.”

Taylor did not ask any questions and just let Arthur leave with the paint.

It took him another five days to finish the painting. Arthur had never painted light before, he had never learned how to do it, but it came naturally, as though his soul had learned how to speak it. As though light was a language that could be spoken in kisses, in strokes of a paint brush, in drops of cum being absorbed by the soil.

Arthur painted his dream. Arthur painted exactly what Felix had asked him to. Arthur painted Felix’s apology to Hyathos.

He signed the painting, and then the pain in his chest became searing until it was all that existed, until nothing at all existed.

It was Taylor who found his body the next day, collapsed on the floor of his art studio next to an easel on which rested Arthur’s last painting.

His masterpiece.

“It’s alright darling, I’ve got you.”

It was Hyunjin’s voice that finished waking you up—as soon as your eyes fluttered open, pain shot through your skull, making you recoil, forcing you to close them again. The migraine began somewhere at the back of your neck and ended somewhere in your jaw, yet you could feel it in your shoulders too, and your back. Your eyes were just as sore, with a lingering sting to them.

You had cried a lot.

Just like a river forcing its way through a dam, last night came back to you all at once, in the span of a millisecond. It caused yet another stab of the migraine to attack your head. You closed your eyes harder, trying your best to evade the light behind your eyelids, diffuse and yellow and bright. Morning light, sometime after sunrise.

You were in Hyunjin’s arms. He was holding you and carrying you gently and slowly in your apartment, toward what you assumed was your bedroom. He held you tighter when you became agitated, pressing you into the crook of his neck. You buried your face there, hiding from the light.

As you remembered the previous night, panic grew within you. You tried to wiggle out of Hyunjin’s arms but he did not let you. He was strong, stronger than he looked, and you found that peculiar but it wasn’t even the weirdest thing that you had seen this week.

Yesterday was supposed to be just a day. You were supposed to drink wine, take a sleeping pill and put yourself into a light coma until some time had passed, until the warmth in your heart dissipated, until you no longer felt a thing for Hyunjin. Because it would kill you. It would kill you when he would leave, because he would leave. They all left. Yesterday was supposed to be just a day, and instead it had been a revelation.

When you spoke, your voice sounded foreign, like it had traveled long distances before floating in the air around you. “Hospital,” you managed. “I need to go to the hospital.”

Hyunjin’s response came immediately. “No, darling. You don’t. I’ve got you.”

Yes. Yes you needed to go to the hospital. Something had happened last night, something you couldn’t explain even though there were very simple words to speak about it.

Your day had started normally. You had decluttered your apartment a little. You had answered emails from students who needed counsel for their Master’s or PhDs. You answered more emails to colleagues from other museums. You drank wine. You had been visited by Hyunjin who was begging to be in your presence, who had made love to you. Nothing about that last part was normal, you didn’t think. You didn’t think it was normal that a man such as Hyunjin wanted you, and yet. He drank your words the same way he drank your pussy—passionately, like his life depended on it.

You tried to forget. You tried to revoke your memories, to give them away, to force them out of your brain.

Your day had started normally. Hyunjin had been here in the evening, and you drank and talked, and made love. He had left, and you had simply looked at your computer to pass the time, because you found yourself missing him when he wasn’t with you, even for just an instant. And it was frightening. You knew that it was all temporary, that it would kill you when Hyunjin left for good, but you couldn’t deny that you couldn’t resist it.

Yes. It was then that it had happened—reading emails, you had seen pictures of the new piece of the Casnea tablet that had been uncovered in the Mediterranean.

Feliks lies beneath the cypress tree, alone. Sometimes he wants to take people there, but he never does. This is the place for him and for Hyathos only. Feliks knows that Hyathos doesn’t belong anywhere near the cypress tree. He never did, even if it felt good to be there. Hyathos belongs elsewhere, far away. Like some creatures or peculiar plants, he thrives in the shade.

Those words that you had read so effortlessly were engraved in your heart, your brain, your soul. They had become a part of you. You had spent all of your life not understanding the forgotten language, the language they deemed untranslatable. And yet, the moment you laid your eyes on the words, they had come to you as naturally as the language you had spoken her whole life.

Hyunjin wasn’t taking you to your bedroom—he entered the bathroom and sat you on the counter by the sink, but you didn’t let go of him, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him closer. If you could become one with him, if you could somehow melt into his body, you would.

“Let’s just splash water on your face,” Hyunjin said under his breath, whispering into your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. “You cried a lot, darling.”

Yes. Yes, you cried a lot. You knew the language of light. You knew it as though you had always known it, as though it was buried somewhere within you all of your life and something or someone had simply opened that gate, allowing you to access it. Your mind was spinning with memories of the other piece of the Casnea tablet, the very one you had seen in person after visiting a colleague during a trip out of the country. Your mind was spinning with the fragments of vases, with pieces of tombs, with engravings on caves and walls and mountains, all containing letters and words from this forgotten language.

The dead language that had suddenly come back to life in your mind, last night, as you just looked at the words.

You had thought that you were crazy. That you were hallucinating. So you read, over and over, while Hyunjin was out. You read through the tears that you were crying, you read despite the violent tremors taking over your body. You couldn’t unsee. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t lose that understanding of the words, it seemed that they lingered to you the way the juice of a ripe peach makes one’s skin sticky and sweet.

It couldn’t be true, could it? It couldn’t be the real language, the one that had been lost in time and history, that you were comprehending all of a sudden—that was, factually, impossible. Even less plausible was the fact that it wasn’t the one they called the language of the gods that had suddenly been woven into your brain, no—it was an even more obscure dialect. A dialect used so sparingly that it was believed only a few individuals, perhaps even exclusively royalty, spoke it. It was even less translatable than its root, but paradoxically, it was also believed to be the key to unlocking the language of the gods. For that reason, they named the dialect Cipherian.

And now you could read it. Hell, as images of the Casnea tablet appeared in your mind, sounds also emerged. Syllables and intonations. Syntax and phonology. Inflections—many of them, displaying intricate, poetic grammar. Colorful, complex semantics. If you wanted to, you could part open your lips and ask Hyunjin how he was doing in Cipherian. You could tell him about today’s weather in it, or ask him to fuck you.

It couldn’t be true. Nobody, not even a genius, could do that. That just didn’t happen. It couldn’t. Nobody, not even a genius, could absorb a language in a matter of seconds.

Especially not a language that hundreds of linguists from all around the world had failed to crack for decades.

You had to go to the hospital. You had to be put into the psych ward where they would give you Seroquel or something stronger and it would go back to normal.

But Hyunjin did not let you. He kissed your ear and his mouth was warm. He smelled like your bodywash. You kept your eyes closed, letting the memory of the shower you shared with him last night wash over you, soothing some of the panic, if only a little. If it was all that you had—if the memory of Hyunjin, of his mouth on your neck or on your cunt, if the soreness between your legs like an echo of his cock was all that kept you from jumping from the balcony at this moment, then so be it. You would die anyway, you would die when he would leave, just like a shooting star disappearing in the night sky after displaying its light for half a second.

So maybe it was okay if you let it last for a little longer. If you grasped at this, at him, at this invisible bond between the two of you. It was as though he had been within you the whole time, too, alongside those foreign words. He did not feel unfamiliar, he had never felt like a stranger to you, not even during that very first interaction with him at the museum.

Hyunjin pulled himself away from you. You leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, your mind jumping from one thing to another. The new words, this new grammatical system that had made a home out of your mind, the strange feeling in your eyes from having cried too much. The heaviness in your chest that you couldn’t explain.

He took care of you. He placed a cool towel on your face and let some lukewarm water run on it, not minding the fact that it rolled down your neck and chest. He brushed the tangles out of your hair and helped you brush your teeth, which helped make your mouth feel less dry and pasty. He brought you to your bed, tucking you comfortably under your sheets, making sure the pillows were positioned perfectly under your head.

You wanted to say, I just slept, I won’t fall asleep, but you felt tired. Exhausted. Like you had traveled around the world. “I’ll be right back, darling,” he whispered into your ear before disappearing. You heard noises coming from the kitchen. The kettle, cutlery, the fridge.

You closed your eyes and it seemed like you could see it. The letters. The words. As they engraved themselves into your DNA. You felt more and more tired as your brain translated every single one of your memories. The first book you had read on your own at the age of four, about a little cat who did not want to eat dinner but wanted dessert. The kitten made several attempts at bypassing the plate before her, even going as far as drawing an empty plate to fool her father into thinking she’d eaten. Another book had come in later, this time it was about a little human girl and her mother at the grocery store. The mother was in a hurry and wanted to go through the express checkout lane—to do so, they needed to buy ten items or less. You remembered these books. They were still in your mother’s basement, in a box somewhere. But now you knew them from a different angle. You saw light coating the letters, the commas, you understood the spaces between the words.

When Hyunjin came back, your eyes were closed again—your eyelids were too heavy to keep them open. He sat with you on the bed, pushing your hair out of your face. “You have to eat and drink,” he said.

But you weren’t hungry. You were just tired. “No, I—”

You felt something sweet touch your lips. The wedge of a peach. “Eat,” he insisted.

You ate—two wedges total, but it was all that you could stomach without gagging. The juice of the fruit coated your lips, but you also drank a few sips of the sweet green tea Hyunjin had prepared for you. When he was satisfied, he laid you down again. “You can sleep now,” he whispered as if he knew.

You slept.

You slept for two days.

Hyunjin stayed by your side, only leaving your bedroom if absolutely necessary and never for long. Your slumber was often disturbed—you’d frown then or mumble something he couldn’t make out. You even gasped a few times, and then Hyunjin was certain that you would wake up, only, you didn’t.

He spent his Sunday there, sitting in your bedroom, watching you, watching the news, too, expecting something, anything. Expecting a new war to break out between two rival territories, expecting an earthquake, a monsoon, or a plague. He didn’t know what it would be but Hyunjin knew that some unfortunate—and deadly—event would occur sooner rather than later. Because everything in this life was about balance. It was in everything one ever laid their eyes upon, intrinsically so, but balance was not something that mortals controlled—it came from elsewhere. It came from the same place as he did.

Balance, equilibrium, harmony. Mortals would use those words to describe this phenomenon. But to gods, it was justice.

Hyunjin was aware of the terrible weight of Feliks’ gift to you. Something never seen before, something deeply significant. He knew that it was an affront and that retaliation would be gruesome. What Hyunjin didn’t know, though, was if Feliks would claim the offense or hide behind a veil of light, letting someone else take the blame for it.

Did they know? Did they know it was you who knew their tongue, or did they think it was somebody else, someone unimportant?

Hyunjin had no way of finding out before it was too late. Before justice had been carried out. Maybe it would take the shape of a catastrophic event. Or maybe, one day, Hyunjin would wake up to find you gone. Erased. Unmade.

So he stayed by your side, wiping your face with a lukewarm washcloth regularly, keeping your hair out of your eyes, making sure your pillows were comfortable underneath you. Once in a while, he would dampen the corner of a clean towel, not wringing it dry, and let you suckle on it in your sleep. After a few tries, however, Hyunjin found it was more efficient to use his thumb. When he became certain you were effectively absorbing the water, he added a sprinkle of salt to it as well as some honey, just so you would get a few nutrients.

He spoke to you. A lot. You didn’t seem to hear him, and the noise certainly didn’t wake you up. He knew you couldn’t hear him, not even in your sleep, because he was able to speak to you freely. About Feliks, about his father, his mother. He did not use their names but he did tell you about his mother’s garden, and the peculiar color of the sunsets there, which he liked to watch from the same spot always.

He had forgotten a lot. The transformation of his atoms into what he was now had altered his memory, and Hyunjin wanted so badly to know what you knew. He was ashamed to think that, but he was jealous. Jealous that you had entered the world of gods.

Jealous that Feliks had kissed you.

It drove him crazy. While you slept soundly, Hyunjin paced in your apartment, his mood jumping from yearning, to envious, to furious, to… something else. A craving, a tingling in his lower abdomen when he thought of your bare feet walking on the soil where he and Feliks had fallen in love. What did he tell you, exactly? Had he told you anything about him? Had he given you a peach?

Had he touched you? He had kissed his language into you, yes, but had he touched you? Had he pinned you to the cypress tree and taken your mouth like that? Had he laid you on the grass? Had he been straddling you? Had his pretty cock been hard and pressed against your cunt while his tongue traced words and grammar into your soul? Had he touched you? Felt you? Had Feliks felt your breasts with his hands?

Hyunjin was ashamed that such thoughts haunted him—even more so that they made his cock hard. It was unfair. He should have been there, too. He knew it was too dangerous and yet. He should have been there, fucking you softly while Feliks was buried to the hilt in your ass, your pretty moans filling the meadow and the lilac night. Then Hyunjin in your ass and Feliks fucking your cunt. Feliks kissing him as he chased his high, his hands secured around your waist. He should have been there, eating Feliks’ cum out of your pussy, swallowing you and him at once while he emptied his balls in Feliks’ throat.

The love he had for Feliks was distant. It belonged to another time, another place, and it no longer belonged in his heart. It made him angry that he had these thoughts, that they made him spit into his palm and stroke his straining cock. It made him sad, too, because Hyunjin’s heart belonged with yours now. Only yours. And he knew that to be true because when, finally, he twitched into his own hand, it was you who appeared in his confused thoughts. Just you, an entire universe away from the cypress tree. Just you, your legs around his waist, your voice in his ear, your pussy hugging him nicely. Hyunjin came so hard that a few specks of it landed on your coffee table, but he watched as he sprayed his thick, shimmering cum onto his stomach, wishing you would come and lick it.

It was the day after that he heard you tossing and turning while he was folding some of your laundry in the kitchen. He needed to keep himself busy while waiting for you to return to him or perhaps while he waited for the world to end.

Hyunjin ran to you, finding you as you were climbing out of bed, your back turned to him. Walking slowly, your limbs visibly numb, you made your way to the window, wasting no time pulling the curtains open.

Sunlight filled the room, violent, devastating, beautiful. You basked in it, your gaze fixated on the horizon above the buildings across the street. Your breathing was calm and steady—slowly, you turned to him, facing away from the window. Your uncombed yet supple hair framed your face which Hyunjin couldn’t describe as emotionless. Rather, it seemed like you experienced every possible human emotion at once.

If your eyes had been lost and hazy before your long sleep, they were the opposite now. You gave him an appraising look, focused, alert, aware. You reached for your head, feeling your face with your fingers as though you weren’t certain you were real. You caressed the gentle curves of your cheeks, your nose, your dry, cracked lips. Hyunjin had never seen a thing more beautiful than you. And he had seen many things.

“How long was I asleep?” you asked finally, taking a step toward him. “Is it today still?”

He closed up the space between you, pulling you into a tight embrace. It surprised you but you still wrapped your arms around his body, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “It’s Tuesday, darling,” he said, his voice soft and low. He caressed your hair gently, reveling in the feeling of your breath on his skin.

You pulled away from him in shock. “Tuesday?” A million thoughts crossed your mind at once—Hyunjin saw them all behind your eyes, scurrying, pricking at your synapses.

“Don’t worry, I called Minji, then I called the museum.” He pulled you back against him, his miracle. “I said you had the flu.” You signed, relieved, in his arms. “Your mom also called—I told her I was your assistant and that you were out for a work trip.”

You let out a soft snort and it healed him maybe. He did not let go of you, for Hyunjin knew what he would have to do sooner rather than later. “Thank you for lying on my behalf, honey.”

A comfortable silence grew between you, punctuated by the sounds of the city filtering through the window and the TV, which played at a low volume in the living room, set on the 24-hour news channel. You relaxed in his arms, your fingers tracing small circles on his back. He did not want this moment to end. It would end soon but it didn’t need to be now, within the next ten seconds. The sun was making your skin warm and your hair shine. Could you understand what it was telling you, now? Did you hear it, did you feel it in your bones like he had once?

What was Feliks whispering to you?

You moved against him but he kept you there for a little longer. “Please,” he murmured but his voice was swallowed by the wailing of a siren outside.

You raised your face, kissing his jaw, his cheek, his neck. Your lips were warm, a little rough, and dry. “I dreamt of you,” you revealed in between kisses, each of them igniting a new desire within him.

Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat. “Me?”

You nodded. “We were walking together, outside. There was nobody else, it was just us. We were on an island, surrounded by nothing but a deep blue ocean.” You paused as though you were trying to remember. “We were barefoot and the sand was warm. Then we walked inland, following a path. There was a little house.”

Hyunjin froze in place, tensing up as panic took over him. No, no no no. He almost collapsed, his air evading him. What you were telling him wasn’t just a dream, no. You had truly visited some other place, and maybe it was why you had slept for so long. Hyunjin was familiar with the location you were describing—while he had never seen it with his own two eyes, he had heard a lot about it from Feliks. Peirasmos Island, home to none other than Ismene, Feliks’ aunt—Perikles’ older sister. Ismene, apparently, had long, blonde hair in which she braided myrtle leaves and flowers.

Ismene, the goddess of strategy and trials.

Gods were sent on Peirasmos Island for one reason and one reason only—to be assessed by Ismene, to be judged. Assessed. It was not Ismene’s burden to decide on somebody's faults or their worth, all she did was use her expertise to see someone for who they were and what they had done—nothing else. The sentence was not hers to give.

Hyunjin knew what you were about to say. He closed his eyes, his lips trembling. “The house was made of limestone. It had a small garden behind it, with a bench made of the same stone as the house. It was just one room with no glass in the windows.”

“Was someone in the house, darling?” he asked, his voice trembling even more than his lips.

“Yes.” Yes, of course. “A woman. I don’t remember her face, I don't think I saw it even once, but she had beautiful blonde hair.” Just like Feliks—it ran in the family. “She had flowers in it. She made us soup, heating it in a cauldron over a hearth but she did not speak. I wasn’t afraid of her. The soup was salty. She left before sunset, leaving us alone.”

You paused then. Hyunjin had one tiny bit of hope left, yet he knew not to hold onto it. Delicately, you kissed his jaw again but he kissed your lips. Your mouth tasted like stale water and your lips were raw but he did not mind that. He kissed you deeply while he still could.

“We made love,” you went on, and the last of his hope disappeared. Your voice was lower than it had been, as though you were telling a secret. “You fucked me on the stone floor and it was so good, Hyunjin.”

And now Ismene knew. She knew what you meant to him—she must have seen it in your eyes, or perhaps smelled it on the floor of her house. He could very well imagine her on her hands and knees, inhaling the spot where he had fucked you, finding in the scent of his cum the love he had for you.

He could not tell you this. If he tried, the words would close his throat shut. Instead, he kissed you. He could not tell you that he was kissing his love into you, for his love was like a knife on your throat, its sharp blade threatening to cut you open, to cause your demise.

The world could end. This, Hyunjin could fathom. But not you. You were his world now, the only place where he was understood. Your eyes were the only mirror in which he saw the reflection of his true self. He had never heard the absolute truth before he kissed your lips. He had never felt his soul before he tasted your pussy.

He knew that it was his destiny—that you were his fate, his serendipity. He had been meant to lick the juice of peaches off Feliks’ cock and that had been meant to unmake him so that he could be remade with you, in the version of him that he was supposed to be. The one he liked most. Not Hyathos. Hyunjin.

He also knew that he would rather be unmade again than see you harmed because of him.

So when you pulled away, breaking the kiss to look into his eyes, Hyunjin let you go, his arms falling on either side of him, limp, helpless.

“I’m hungry,” you said, unaware of the danger he had put you in by falling for you.

Hyunjin cooked for you. You sat on a stool by the counter while he carefully cut vegetables before roasting them. He had recharged your laptop and you scrolled through your email, then various news websites, then more specific art-related websites.

“No one else knows.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper but he heard you very clearly. “Nobody is talking about it. The tablet. Cipherian. The discovery.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath, weighing his words. “Why would they?” He gulped, a void carving itself into his chest. Soon, he figured, that void would be you-shaped.

You took a few seconds to think about it. “Isn’t the latest fragment of the tablet a key to decode the language?” It seemed that as you were asking the question, some of your memories came back to you. You fell silent, your gaze fixated not on your screen but on your keyboard. Hyunjin wondered if, perhaps, you were looking at the letters on the keys, trying to make sense of them. “It’s not…” You gave yourself an answer, typing something on the computer.

Hyunjin cracked an egg, then two, into a warm, buttered frying pan. One quick glance behind his shoulder confirmed that you were staring at the same picture you had been when it had dawned on you. When you realized that you understood it. Almost like a credit card needing activation, your mind had required exposure to the words to finally process them, opening a whole new universe to you.

If he had to describe it, Hyunjin would say you fell into a trance after that, as though you were remembering the exact circumstances of the discovery of your newly acquired knowledge. He knew you couldn’t make sense of it, and he also knew he couldn’t help you make sense of it. Hyunjin may have been born a god but he had never been as helpless as he was this morning.

You barely reacted when he slid the plate of food in front of you, so Hyunjin took your hand in his and closed it around the fork, forcing you to hold it. Your skin was cold and clammy, like someone who was ill. He kissed your temple, the scent of your hair as alluring as it had always been. “Eat,” he whispered into your ear.

But you wouldn’t eat. You were muttering silently, your head leaning against him, eyes on the screen of your laptop. When Hyunjin closed the lid, you stared at the window instead, but not like one would just look at it. You stared like you were reading it, just like a book. And maybe you were.

He put some food on your fork and brought it to your lips. He found that you accepted the food this way, so he literally spoon-fed you like that for a while, sometimes stopping to make you drink some watered-down juice. The more time passed, the slower your mutters became and the longer the pauses between them became, too.

Once upon a time, Hyunjin had fallen in love with light itself. He had allowed it under his skin, into his heart, and he had let it change him. He had given all of his thoughts and all of his love to Feliks, and in the end it hadn’t been enough. In the end, it had ruined Hyathos.

It was very human of him and he knew it, but he had believed something could be done with these ruins. He had believed, foolishly perhaps, that you would make a home out of them and that together, you would rebuild them into something better. He had also believed the same could be done with you and your broken heart.

But then Feliks had taken that away from him, too. And all of that for what? So that you could read this message and relay it to him? Hyathos belongs elsewhere, far away. Like some creatures or peculiar plants, he thrives in the shade. Feliks didn’t need to infect your brain with his words for Hyunjin to know that. He had known for a while already that no matter how much he loved Feliks, he would never belong with him, he would never belong in places where his light shone.

That morning, after feeding you breakfast and hydrating you, Hyunjin ran you a bath in which he made you sit to wash the last few days off you. You let him do it, almost like your body and mind weren’t connected. Like your body was here but your soul was elsewhere, maybe traveling back and forth in between worlds.

The sun was filtering through the bathroom window, caressing your skin. He lathered you lovingly, moved by the beauty of your body and the way it felt beneath his fingertips. The softness of you, your breasts, your waist, your pussy. He hated Feliks. No, of course he didn’t, but he kind of did. It was unfair. He washed you, noticing that you reacted to his touches, and it made him hard in his pants. Hyunjin was afraid of the things he felt for you.

He dried you up and put comfortable clothes on you, and you managed to brush your teeth on your own while he was making some tea. Hyunjin felt strangely detached from his own emotions, as though they were simply happening rather than he was experiencing and feeling them.

When you joined him in the living room, you were different. You seemed a bit more like yourself, and your gaze had returned not to its original clarity—even more than that.

You went to him on the couch and accepted the cup of tea he handed you. You even kissed him, running your fingers through his hair, sitting close to him. “Thank you,” you murmured. “I’m sorry, I—” You paused, sighing. “Do you understand what’s going on?”

He did. He painfully did yet he couldn’t say a word of it. It was unfair. He hated Feliks, except he did not. He knew that Feliks could not have done that to change you, to alter you to a point where there was now an entire world of distance between you and him. Hyunjin knew Feliks wasn’t cruel like that, but he knew he was oblivious to his own strength, his powers—he couldn’t have imagined what he was doing when he kissed his language into you.

But he should have. He should have known. And for this, Hyunjin resented him.

“No,” he said, his voice low. He was trying to dodge the invisible gag preventing him from enlightening you. “Do you remember what we talked about before you… found out?”

You frowned, visibly thinking. “We had sex,” you recalled. “Then you went out, and I checked my emails, and—”

“No, before that.”

The crease between your brows deepened. You placed your cup on the coffee table, facing him on the couch. “I read to you. About the sky. And…” You were so close, so fucking close to finding out that it made him nauseous. In his chest, his heart was thumping hard and fast.

It happened suddenly. You raised your eyes to stare into his, straightening your posture. “I had a dream. I dreamt about Feliks.”

Hyunjin could have collapsed. You had been well-versed in the myths before, but like most mortals, you rarely used the proper pronunciation of Feliks’ name. The difference was so subtle that it was almost imperceptible anyway, that only a trained ear could notice. And he did. He did notice that you did not call him Felix, and probably never would again.

“But how…” Hyunjin couldn’t expect you to understand the whole truth now, or ever. You were not religious—a person who was would have immediately seen this as divine intervention, as a miracle. But your mind needed a bit more time to make sense of it all. “Do you think that while I dreamt, I could have, I don’t know… Unlocked something in my brain? You know, they say we reach deep into our subconscious when we sleep.”

If that was the explanation that comforted you, then so be it. “What else could it be, darling?” He pulled you close, cupping your face in his hand. “That, and the dream you told me about when you woke up. I think your brain was telling you something.”

Your eyes became unfocused for a few seconds. “Ismene. She was the woman… I dreamt of her too, I…”

You returned to silence for a while and Hyunjin let you, admiring you. Admiring the way the sun reflected in your deep, beautiful eyes. Admiring the way your pretty tits showed through your shirt.

“I think I understand now,” you said after a while. As though you needed to face him, you straddled him on the couch, and it was your turn to take his face in your hands. He saw your mouth drop open when you felt his cock through his pants. “I understand the myths.”

Hyunjin smiled, tears pricking at his eyes. Yes, you understood now and you would understand even more as time went on. “You’re beautiful.” And you were. You had always been, but he had never seen this much purpose in you, except when you had brought him down to the museum vaults to show him the painting. “You’re beautiful,” he repeated, caressing you, your tits, your waist.

“Make love to me again,” you whispered, crashing your lips onto his.

And he did. He undressed you and laid you on the floor, in the sun, and ate your pussy, again and again, lapping at you desperately. You were better than any of the ripest fruit he had ever tasted as a god or as a mortal. You came under his tongue but that did not stop him—he swallowed you, consuming you, letting himself be consumed by you at the same time, but his head remained buried between your legs.

You were more divine than he was, your body, your moans, your hands in his hair, your juices rolling down his chin, smeared all over your thighs and your ass. He had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you. You came again, clenching and fluttering around his fingers, moaning with your mouth wide open, speaking in a language he could not understand because it had been erased from his memory.

He kissed you to see what those words tasted like and he found that your pussy was sweeter anyway. People worshiped gods and most gods worshiped themselves. But not him. He understood now why he had never been like the others, like he had never quite fitted among these gods—it was because Hyunjin had been meant to worship you, and only you.

You undressed him, kissing him all over, his shoulders, his neck, suckling on his nipples while stroking his cock. Sunlight enveloped both of you as Hyunjin aligned himself with your entrance, his cock hard and straining, flushed dark.

He fucked you on that floor where you had cried so much. He fucked you like that, stretching you at first, your heat swallowing him, then harder, pounding into you with deep, sharp thrusts. Hoping that Feliks was watching. Hoping that Feliks could see him, Hyunjin, declaring his love to you and your body and your pussy.

He fucking loved your pussy and how warm and wet you were, how well you took his big cock.

She’s mine, Hyunjin thought, pumping in and out of your soaked folds, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. Or maybe he said it out loud, because you opened your eyes, pulling him closer.

You said something then, something he couldn’t translate but something he understood anyway. Yours. More words. Fuck me harder.

He drilled you into the floor with you on your hands and knees, your bodies becoming one as you reached behind you to hold onto him, your nails digging into his skin but it just felt like kisses. A goddess. You came, again, clenching so hard around him that Hyunjin couldn’t pull out in time. The waves of your orgasms transferred to him and he spilled himself inside you with long, intense pulses, each of them releasing a large amount of his divine cum. And that was better than anything. “Feels so good,” you whined into his ear as he fucked his seed deeper within you, somewhere Feliks would never reach.

Could you feel it? That he was saying goodbye?

Maybe you did. You remained motionless when Hyunjin pulled out, and he watched as your cunt fluttered lazily a few more times, as his glistening cum oozed out of your hole. He didn’t move either for a while, until he felt the warmth of sunlight burning him gently. He wiped you clean, then the floor, where you sat in the sun.

You got up as he gathered the clothes scattered around the room, making your way to the kitchen, naked, your pussy still flushed and swollen from how hard he had fucked you. Hyunjin watched as you sat in front of your laptop, opened a word processor, and began to type.

He stayed for some time, washing up at first but not too thoroughly—he wanted the scent of you to stick to his skin a little, while he could. He wrapped a blanket around your body and poured you two glasses of water as well as laid a few snacks by the computer. You did not look away from your screen once—you typed and you typed, spilling your knowledge onto the keyboard.

He glanced at the screen although he knew he shouldn’t.

Both Hyathos and Feliks want to be loved—who doesn’t? But the two young gods crave different kinds of love. What Hyathos wants is the true kind of love, the kind of love that stains both parties, for better or worse. And he is seeking it, looking for it everywhere—in the sky, in the roses and asters of his mother’s garden, in the colorful trees of his orchard.

Feliks, on the other hand—is the embodiment of light. Light does not discriminate, light touches everyone and everything. Light demands to be seen, to be witnessed, to be felt. Light demands gratitude, for without it, there is no world. Feliks is not selfish, Feliks is light itself—how could he ever think of shining his light on one and one only, no matter the bond between them? How could the people who are touched by him not love him back?

Feliks wants to be loved by all, and Hyathos wants to be loved by Feliks.

This love is incompatible. This love is impossible. This love, ultimately, will pain Feliks and make him feel guilty of the way his heart works. It will, however, be Hyathos’ demise.

I wonder what this says about the people who wrote those myths, I wonder what they were trying to say here, what kind of logic they were trying to express with the tale of the star-crossed lovers. It brings forth how, at our core, we humans have not changed and never will. We’ve always told stories of impossible love. However, by comparing the original Language of the Gods and Cipherian, something becomes obvious: Cipherian seems to be used exclusively to refer to Feliks and Hyathos, often mentioning this unique and tragic bond that unites them.

A secret language, with the purpose of speaking of broken hearts. This can be witnessed by the semantics of it. The word 'never', for example—

He looked away. He had seen enough.

Hyunjin had no doubt that you were currently typing one of the most important essays this world had known. You would type it and then, most likely, share your discovery with your colleagues at the museum. Linguists from around the world would beg to hear about it directly from you. People would talk about you on the news or in their reels, people would analyze Cipherian and your interpretation of it. People would become aware of your interpretation of the myths, too. And you had always been right about them, even before.

And now, too much attention would be oriented on you and on this terrible yet irresistible secret that you were unearthing before their eyes. His father would come to feel it, his mother, too. If Feliks hadn’t told his family yet, they would also feel the shift in the fabric of the universe, and they would notice you. They would see you.

Ismene knew that Hyunjin loved you.

He hadn’t even had the pleasure of telling you that. It would have been too early—mortals usually waited before admitting this sort of thing. Time meant nothing to him. His heart had been beating since the beginning of the universe, and perhaps before that. He had waited lifetimes to find you. His purpose, his home. But now Ismene knew, and while she would never make accusations herself, it would be her duty to inform those concerned by the issue. She may have been an enemy of Hyunjin’s father, for the blood of light ran through her veins, but he would hear her nonetheless.

When he would hear that his disappointment of a son had something to do with the revelation of the gods' core story, he would want to punish him. He would sit and think about the most cruel way to torture Hyunjin. Torture would not come in the form of pain or an extension of his banishment. Torture wouldn’t even be an immortal death, not right away at least. You were the key to unmaking Hyunjin for good, and now, Amaranthos knew.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to Hyunjin. And many things had happened to him.

He loved you. And because he loved you, he would choose you over anything—divinity, light, or himself.

Hyunjin kissed your cheek, wondering if you could feel the tears on his skin. Maybe you did, because you leaned into him a little, yet were unable to look away from your screen. Hyunjin understood—your mortal brain was invaded with knowledge bigger than itself, bigger than this world, and your focus would be greatly affected by that. For a while at least.

“You’re leaving?” you asked, and to his surprise, you did slow your typing down and turned to him. You frowned when you saw his tears, wiping them away. Your hand smelled like him, like his petrichor-scented musk. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “Just glad to see you’re better, and writing,” he lied. “You worried me a lot the other day. I’ll head out and let you work.”

“Will you be back soon?” You turned not just your face now, but your body toward him. There was a pretty pink mark on your left breast where he bit you earlier.

Time meant nothing to him. It meant everything also. “Soon,” he lied again. He almost said it then, I love you, but that would have been selfish. “Write well, darling.”

You offered him a faint smile, coated with sadness. “See you later,” you told him, and Hyunjin hated to hear you say it, hated to know he made you tell lies, too. If there was indeed a later, he had no idea when that would be.

He left your apartment. The sun was harsh and unforgiving in the sky, unnaturally warm for this time of the year. Hyunjin, who thrived in the shade, did not belong in this world anymore, not without you.

Each step that Hyunjin took as he walked away from your apartment seemed to deplete the strength of his soul. He almost turned back a few times, telling himself he could protect you better if he stayed by your side. The temptation was so great that if he had been capable of feeling pain, he was certain it would hurt him all over just to leave you, today, like that.

He managed to stop himself at the last second, choosing to hop into a random bus that would put as much distance between you and him as possible, but there was no taking you off his mind. He tried telling himself it was just temporary, that he would return to you in no time, but for the first time in a long time, he was facing the unknown. Even when his father had sent him here, even as Hyunjin woke up amongst the mortals, he had always had some grip on the situation, and he hadn’t been afraid.

He hadn’t known fear before, and he found that it tasted bitter, that it wrapped his ribcage so tightly that he could hardly breathe.

Hyunjin got off the bus when it reached its last stop. This part of the city was quiet, or at least quieter, but that didn’t help him, it only made it worse. It would be so much easier if he didn’t love you, if he didn’t care—but the very reason for all of this to have happened was because of what he had in his heart, and you have been the one to put it there. On accident, yes, but still.

He wanted something, he just didn’t know what. If he couldn’t have you, what could he have, what could he do?

For the first time in a long time, Hyunjin wished he could speak to his mother. He wished that he could visit her in her garden to ask for advice, or maybe just to ask her to hold him in her arms. He also wished, strangely, that he could hear his brother’s booming laugh echo all the way to the beach where he used to sit with his sister. She didn’t speak much, his sister, but Kyma rarely left Hyunjin alone for long periods of time. She’d keep her distance, sitting away from him, until he was ready to talk.

He trusted her but he had been too fearful to reveal to her the extent of his relationship with Feliks. Yet, she knew that he was hurting. “I could make this go away,” she told him once, pouring Hyunjin a glass of wine so red it looked like liquified rubies. And Hyunjin knew she could, for Kyma was the patron of attraction, winter, and… indifference. “Drink this, I made it sweet for you.”

But Hyunjin never drank the sweet wine, because he did not want to forget Feliks, no matter how painful it was to remember the taste of his love and the feeling of light on his lips or around his cock.

If he couldn’t have you, what could he have?

What did he want?

He couldn’t feel his mother’s embrace or his little sister’s reassurance, but there was something he could do that would at least cost him an hour or so. An hour during which he wouldn’t painfully have to resist running back to you.

So, Hyunjin found a cab and asked the driver to take him to the museum. Your museum. You wouldn’t be there, but the paintings and the statues would be. They were not the real thing but they were real things. And it would have to be enough. Hyunjin hadn’t missed his old life once since his exile, but today he needed something familiar, something tangible.

He occupied his mind describing to himself each building the car passed. When that wasn’t quite enough, he tried to describe both the buildings and the people on the sidewalk, and when that also wasn’t enough, Hyunjin engaged in conversation with the driver, asking him about the city, pretending to be a tourist. The driver indulged him, offering a few funny stories he had heard from other tourists, and he gave Hyunjin a few suggestions for restaurants. Among them was the bistro he took you to dinner. He thought about that night, remembering it and your lips glistening with wine. He remembered dancing with you in the park and kissing you for the first time.

He remembered feeling understood. Seen. Loved. You loved Hyathos. Only you didn't know what it meant to him.

Hyunjin gave the driver a generous tip before taking the main entrance into the museum. It was still buzzing with visitors and he was informed at the desk that waiting times could be quite long for those who wished to see Calverley’s The Cypress Tree. He did not mind that. In fact, he welcomed it.

He entered the wing where your exhibition took place. The crowd was even more dense here, and he could see the queue for the portrait of Feliks from here. He would go see him later, but for now, he was craving something else.

He was also craving silence in his mind. Because he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when you would type the last words of your essay. Would you be freed from that hypnotized state? Would you realize why there had been tears on his face this morning? Would you remember the desperation with which he had fucked you?

Would you miss him? And if you did—what would you do about it? Would you touch yourself to the memory of him, each moan drawing more attention to you than the last? Would you seek him, would you call him? Would you look up at the sky and hope to see him? You didn’t know that the wrong pair of eyes would be following you. That your prayers would be met with violence, not benevolence.

More people were interested in the paintings, leaving Hyunjin decent space to observe the statues. He found that some of them were not accurate at all. He had come here many times already to look at each piece of the exhibition though, and found beauty in them anyway. Like the way this artist had decided to make his mother corporeal, with a smile on her face and wind in her hair.

Or how another artist had depicted Kyma’s dark fate. The detail in the marble where her captor’s fingers sank into her supple skin to take her away from her home. The anguish on his sister’s face, her mouth open like she was screaming. Yet, nobody had heard a thing when she had been taken.

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” A man to Hyunjin’s right was looking at the same sculpture, studying it carefully. “Gorgeous nonetheless.”

Hyunjin nodded absentmindedly, lost in his thoughts. He wondered if his sister was still alive, and if she were, if she could hear him at all.

“You’re taller than I expected,” the man went on.

It took Hyunjin a few seconds to process what he had said. He turned to the stranger, frowning. The man was wearing an all-black suit which complemented his short but curly hair of the same color. His gaze was heavy with beauty and horrors alike but it did not stop him from flashing a dimpled smile at Hyunjin.

“Who—” But the man had a tattoo right below his neck, barely visible due to the collar of his shirt. A black moon.

Hyunjin’s stomach churned as he realized he was facing the very man depicted in the sculpture before them—Thoros, King of the Underworld, ruler of the night. The man who had abducted his little sister because he wanted to marry something pure and better than him.

“Relax, it’s fine,” the man went on. “My love, can you come here before he murders me?”

At first, Hyunjin blamed his reduced capacities—after all, he may not have been a true mortal but his essence had to be contained within the body of one, including his cognitive faculties. So it shouldn’t be unexpected that he saw something and drew the wrong conclusions about it. Except it was much worse than that—when a woman appeared from somewhere behind Thoros, he thought he had lost his mind, fully. He thought that perhaps his father’s retribution had already begun and that he had decided to drive his own son crazy, to make him lose his wits.

The woman did not speak, not yet—her eyes were glistening with tears when she stood before Hyunjin. The woman was that, a woman, grown up, strong, with intelligent eyes. He did not remember her like this—Hyunjin remembered his sister as a soft and secretive thing, barely of age.

If this was her, really her, then Hyunjin was facing none other than the Queen of the Underworld, patron of attraction, winter, and indifference.

“Brother,” Kyma said, swallowing a sob. Her lips remained parted as though she wanted to say more but her words were evading her. Instead, she reached for him, touching his hair and his face.

Hyunjin did the same, feeling her curls and the skin of her forearms, her hands. Her hair was longer but still the lovely shade it had always been—something too textured and layered to describe it in just a word. Not quite brown or black, it shone under the large skylight in the ceiling, showing flashes of impossible colors—the green of moss, the gray of basalt, the yellow of marigold.

It couldn’t be her, could it? Yet he knew deep in his heart that it was his sister, not some twisted hallucination. In a way that he couldn’t explain, he felt it in his heart.

“Kyma,” he whispered, his sentence trailing into nothing when his little sister threw herself at him to hold him in her arms. Hyunjin embraced her, bittersweet at the memory of his last embrace with her—she had been smaller then, too small. “It’s really you. You heard me.” There was no other explanation—Hyunjin did not believe in coincidences.

“I did.” Kyma pulled herself away to look at him from head to toe. “We took the risk to come immediately.”

We. Hyunjin became aware of the implications of Kyma’s visit and, more importantly, who was accompanying her. Her husband, yes, but he was the man who had taken her as his hostage, who had stolen her away from her home.

To say that rage overtook Hyunjin would be a euphemism. In fact, he was so shocked that he froze in place, repressing a violent gag when Thoros came to wrap his arm around Kyma’s waist. This might have been his only chance to get her back, to try and free her. Hyunjin was already elaborating a plan—which included slitting Thoros' throat right then and there while he had taken a mortal form—when Kyma stretched herself to deposit a little kiss on Thoros’ cheek. In return, he kissed her hand, which he then kept in his.

“How dare you—” Hyunjin started, but Kyma raised her hand, interrupting him.

“Thoros insisted on coming with me, but I told him it would anger you. Can you please prove me wrong, brother? And let me explain? We don’t have much time. We can’t leave the Underworld for too long.”

Hyunjin gave the man an appraising look. He may have been dressed all in black yet he radiated warmth—it spilled from his kind eyes, from the smile on his lips. Like a gentle sunrise. Now that he was facing him for the first time, Hyunjin thought Thoros had very little to do with the stories being told about him. Actually, there was not an ounce of cruelty showing in his eyes and absolutely no threat in the way he was embracing Kyma. He held her like one would hold his lover.

Like Hyunjin would hold you.

“Father told us he stole you away from our home,” Hyunjin whispered, memories coming back to him a little too fast to keep track of all of them. They were distant, but they were real. He remembered crying for days and nights in Kyma’s empty room, wondering whether his little sister was going to be killed quickly or become some ruthless man’s toy. “Do you love him, Kyma?”

She nodded slowly. “I think… I think Father lied to you, or perhaps he misunderstood me.” She took Hyunjin’s hands in hers, pulling him closer. They were surrounded by people, but none of them seemed particularly preoccupied by their presence. They were properly indifferent. “I told him about Thoros and about our love, and I told Father I wanted to marry him, but he thought I had been bewitched.”

This was the first time Hyunjin heard of such a thing. He listened intently as Kyma and Thoros told their version of their tale, which was a rather different version than the one he knew.

Thoros had inherited the crown from his father and he took it eagerly, taking with it all of its burdens. One of those burdens was the inability to leave his home for very long, or else the Underworld turned into chaos. Souls would be misplaced or even lost, and that wouldn’t even be the worst—souls could also escape. So, Thoros stayed on his land most of the time, except on the nights when the moon was dark. On new moons, he would leave his castle unbeknownst to everyone, for nobody could see him in the dark. He was no more than darkness in a pit of more darkness on those nights.

And it was how he met Kyma. She caught his attention one night as she was walking barefoot in her mother’s garden. He had never seen a woman as beautiful as her—she was so beautiful that it took him three moon cycles to dare approach her. When he did, she was standing on the beach, the high tide swallowing her ankles and rising quickly.

She was not afraid of him, and it was then that Thoros fell in love with her. Nobody was not afraid of him, especially not those who did not know him. But Kyma did not fear Thoros, not even when she saw the black moon above his collarbone. They talked all night, for so long that Thoros almost did not make it back home before sunrise. Before he left, though, she offered him a flower from the garden—a white camelia, almost as delicate and pretty as her.

It did not take long before Thoros asked Kyma to become his queen. But when she told Amaranthos, he wouldn’t believe her, certain that Thoros had poisoned her mind. He locked her in her room. “What he said was, not you too, not you too.” And Kyma didn’t know at the time, but now she knew that he had been talking about Hyathos and Feliks.

Hyunjin, lost in his thoughts, could feel the despair that had haunted their home after that night. “Our brother died for nothing, then? He went to fetch you back. Did he kill him?” He shot a glance at Thoros next to her. Hyunjin hadn’t been particularly close with his older brother, but Prokopios was his brother anyway, and that meant something, didn’t it?

“I didn’t kill your brother if that is what you think,” Thoros explained. “He spent the night at a tavern in a little town, one day of travel away from the Underworld. He met a woman there and she gave him a strange berry, or so people say. The berry was to make your brother desire her—he lay with her all night, then all day after, just like she wished, until she became pregnant from his seed. She wanted to give birth to a god.” Thoros explained that when Prokopios found out what had really happened, he fell into despair—the berry had made him mad, forcing him to fall in love with this deceiver who did not love him back.

“In the end, it was locals who killed him when he started attacking each and every one of them, hoping to kill her last, and the baby in her belly too,” Kyma concluded. “He was a ferocious fighter, but the enchantment on his heart made him weak.”

“What… what about the woman? The child?” For now, Hyunjin would rather think about them than about the death of his brother. He had grieved for him a while ago, resenting him for dying and for leaving him to be the next in line for the crown, also pitying him for having been the one sent out there to die. “Did she…”

“She did give birth to him, but she was not a goddess, not even a demigoddess,” Kyma explained. “She was only an enchantress allowed to live among us. She died giving birth to the baby boy, and the few citizens left in the village were too scared he would turn into a monster like his father, so they brought him to us.”

Kyma pushed herself to the side, revealing a bench behind her, on which two children were sitting. The oldest, a boy who resembled Prokopios so perfectly that Hyunjin gasped upon seeing him, was showing a few museum brochures to a little girl who had Kyma’s beautiful hair and Thoros’ warm smile.

“Y—You—” Tears blurred Hyunjin’s vision as he observed his nephew and niece. The knot in his stomach launched yet another rope, entrapping his heart, tugging at it. He had never thought about that. About becoming an uncle. Or a father, even. He used to be blind. He used to only think of Feliks and the next time he would feel loved by him.

Maybe, after all, his father hadn’t been wrong about him.

Thoros looked up through the skylight, watching the sky intently. “We don’t have much time left,” he pointed out. “It’ll be sunrise soon enough back there.”

Kyma took Hyunjin’s hands again. “I heard you calling for me, brother. I know what you want. But tell me first why you wouldn’t just come back with us. Do you love that mortal more than your home? We could take you back with us and then you could return to see our parents. Mother misses you, I’m sure.”

“She misses you too,” Hyunjin pointed out. “She has no children left. She has two grandchildren and has no idea.”

“I know.” Kyma’s eyes were wet, too. “I chose him. I chose Thoros, because I didn’t think I could exist without him.” Kyma had been promised to another god, a good man, just not one she loved. “I didn’t want to exist without him.” She let her words dissolve in the ambient noise of the room. “Do you think you can exist without her? The mortal?”

She could have stabbed him and it would have had the same effect—Hyunjin felt a terrible pain in his chest, searing, inevitable, like a burn. “I don’t want to exist without her,” he whispered, and it felt like filling his body with venom. “But I have no choice. They will notice her, if they haven’t already.”

“They have.” Kyma didn’t hesitate to relay the information to him. “But I don’t think they hold the whole truth, and the rumors… Well… Apparently, Father would be getting ready for something, but we don’t know what.” She followed with her eyes when a ray of light moved on Hyunjin’s shoulder. “Come with us,” she insisted.

He shook her head. “I don’t belong there anymore.” He was terrified of going back. Terrified of hearing Feliks call him in the language of light. “I just want her safe. You chose him, Thoros. I choose this. We have much to learn from mortals, sister, and this is one of those things—the easiest option will always be more tempting than the best one.”

Hyunjin had been here for over a century already and he had acquired more knowledge than he ever had when he was a god. He knew that staying here was a risk, but he wanted to be close in case you needed divine aid. He had been here for over a century and he had seen mortals write and sing and dance about love, and he found that the mortal kind of love was the greater kind, the one that meant something. Or maybe he was just biased because he loved you.

In his life here, he had seen the same love story told by different authors from different decades and continents and yet it was never actually twice the same. To one, love could be like a murmuration of starlings and to the other it was the sharpest of blades. One was not better than the other—nobody could condemn a desperate person who chose the blade if the knife loved them back.

“Okay.” Kyma was wearing an elegant navy blue dress with a blazer of the same color. She reached into one of the pockets, extracting from it a mini bottle of cognac. It was the very same kind as the one he had drank with you, in this museum, in your office. Your mouth tasted like it the first time he heard you moan his name as you came, the weight of your body on his more delightful than immortality. “I can’t give you more than this, not from here. I tried to get two, but it didn’t work.”

He nodded, taking the bottle in his hand. It was strangely warm. “Is it for her or for me?” he asked. Behind Kyma, her children were now walking around the sculptures, looking at them with big, impressed eyes. The little gods were more beautiful than any of those pieces of marble.

“That’s for you to decide, brother.” Kyma squeezed his forearm. “But it’s her thoughts that are felt all the way to us, and have been for a while. So few mortals are focused on the divine these days that it makes her stand out.”

Hyunjin couldn’t even look at his sister anymore—he focused on the bottle in his hand and the liquid inside it. It held a terrifying power. “Will she forget me?” His throat was shut tight, making his voice sound small and weak.

Kyma forced him to look into her eyes. “No, Hyathos.” Hyathos. This name that had been once his was foreign now. “Putting distance between your bodies isn’t enough—all this does is also create distance between your hearts, temporarily.” She was smiling, but her smile was filled with sorrow. “I’m proficient in indifference, not miracles, brother. Your souls are intertwined and few could undo that.” She took his hand and forced the bottle into his pocket. It seemed to Hyunjin like it weighed a ton.

Thoros, who had walked away for a few instants, returned, flanked by the two children. He stood a little behind Kyma. “We have to go now,” he said softly, offering Hyunjin a sorry smile, and Hyunjin knew he was equally apologetic to him and Kyma. He had not expected this from the king of the Underworld, but there were oceans of love pouring from his gentle eyes.

Thoros was a handsome man, with a strong body containing both force and benevolence. Hyunjin had never really thought about it, but it must take a toll on any man to be so deeply responsible for the lost souls of the world. It was one hell of a burden, except it didn’t seem like that to him—Thoros did not seem weary or drained. If Hyunjin had to describe his energy, he would say his sister’s husband was pleasant, dependable, and kind.

“No, please.” He wasn’t done. He wanted to sit with his sister and hear about her wedding. He wanted to take the children for a little trip and eat gelato with them. He wanted to get to know the man who had married his little sister.

“We really have to, or else it’ll only make things worse,” Kyma pointed out, and Hyunjin knew she was right. “I know your heart is full of questions, brother, but you have to know it also holds the answers to them.”

She held him again, kissing him on the cheek. Hyunjin only had enough time to whisper a weak thank you before they disappeared into the crowd. Parting from Kyma again was almost as painful as it had been the first time, except for the fact that Hyunjin knew she was happy. Happy, and in love, and loved, too. And Hyunjin knew that love could change anyone, including—and perhaps especially—gods.

He stood there, under the skylight, wondering about what kind of parents Kyma and Thoros were, and what their life was like. He thought about all the things he couldn’t have told her. He wished he could have spent more time with her, he wished he could have told her about you. And how Hyunjin came to meet you. He wished he could sit with Kyma and relay to her all of your thoughts about the myths. Above all, he wished you could have met her. And Hyunjin could have introduced you to Kyma as the woman he’s in love with.

The sun shifted again, bringing Hyunjin back to reality. He gave one last glance at the sculpture he was closest to. Now that he knew how inaccurate it was, he had no interest in it anymore, so he walked away. He knew where he was headed.

He found a man and a woman at the security desk, chatting about the next maintenance tour in the room where Feliks was exposed. He came to understand that the crowd was so important from morning to night that the museum needed to close the room from the public for a few minutes once every couple hours, just to make sure that everything was alright there.

The woman noticed him first, staring at him with curiosity. “Yes, sir?”

Hyunjin looked around, suddenly having second thoughts about this. Deep down, however, he knew he was doing the right thing. He gave the woman your name and told her he was a friend of yours, also doing research.

“She is not here, sir,” the man responded. “Called in sick at the beginning of the week. But you can go to reception and leave a message to her.”

“I know she’s sick,” Hyunjin retorted, trying very hard to remain calm. That had always been difficult for him. It seemed like he was nothing but a pit where emotions fell into, trapped in there forever, unable to escape, doomed to rot. Doomed to be wretched. Wherever Hyunjin went, he brought with him his disasters—and now, he had made a disaster out of you, too. “I’m here to see Han Jisung.”

“Sir, you would need an appointment—”

“Can you please just call his office? Tell him Hyunjin wants to see him.”

The woman nodded and went to the phone on the desk, entering an extension number on it while the man regarded Hyunjin with visible annoyance. The woman repeated word for word what Hyunjin had instructed her to, and it took no time before she hung up the phone, announcing to Hyunjin that Jisung was on his way.

The Director of Security appeared through the crowd with an apprehensive look on his face. He was wearing a standard security button-up shirt and even some sort of tactical belt, but he also had a dark gray blazer on. When he stood before Hyunjin, he was fidgeting pointlessly with the flashlight on his belt.

“Hwang.” Jisung offered him a stiff nod. “You wanted to see me?”

Hyunjin buried his hands into his pockets. The bottle was there—the glass of it was cold yet he could feel the warmth of the liquid inside it, tempting, terrifying. “In private,” he responded, which earned him yet another nod.

The path they took was familiar to Hyunjin—it was the same one you had led him on during that fateful night when you brought him to your office. The upstairs hallway was much quieter than the floor below but the conversations and footsteps could be heard nonetheless. When Jisung walked past the closed door of your office, he slowed down. “Are you here to pick stuff up for her?” He didn’t even look behind him.

Hyunjin couldn’t give him an immediate answer—the answer was no, only, he wished it was yes. “No. I need to speak with you.”

A third nod—Jisung then motioned Hyunjin toward the door to his office, in which Hyunjin had already been, also on the same night. Jisung made his way behind his desk but did not sit and neither did Hyunjin—they just stood, facing each other, with a desk between the two of them.

“What do you want that is so top secret, then?” There was obvious disdain in Jisung’s eyes. There were other things too, but it only told Hyunjin he had come to the right person.

“I’ve got something to ask of you. It’s not a small thing,” Hyunjin admitted, the weight of the bottle almost crushing him the same way a galaxy would if it fell onto him. “It’s about, huh, our friend in common.” For some reason, speaking your name out loud, here, today, felt wrong, so he avoided it. “It’s an errand that will take considerable time, I believe, and since you will no doubt have to miss some work for it, I will compensate you generously.”

Jisung tilted his head to the side. “What?”

Hyunjin went on without waiting. “I’m asking you—begging you—to please keep an eye on her. From up close, as close as you can without it seeming… forced, or suspicious.” It wasn’t fair. It should be Hyunjin who did that. “Can you please keep her safe?”

Any aversion completely melted from Jisung’s face, turning immediately into concern. “What? Is she in danger or something? Is it a stalker? Online? That weird neighbor of hers who liked to listen when we—” Jisung ended his sentence there, for which Hyunjin was grateful.

He shook his head. “No, well, I don’t know. Maybe. She could be in danger. Just. Can you? Can you keep an eye on her?” He closed his hand around the small bottle in his pocket. The choice was his to make—he could either make this easier for himself or for you. Which was to say, there was no choice to be made at all.

Jisung crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you guys break up or something? Why aren’t you the one keeping an eye on her?”

Break up? Hyunjin wished, in a twisted, disastrous way, that there had been something to break up. “No. We were never a couple.” And it hurt Hyunjin to say that. What terrible words to use oxygen for.

It wasn’t fair, yet it was all his fault. It went against everything that made sense in the world for an immortal to fall in love with a mortal. You would literally die someday. You would grow old, which was not a problem for him—he would massage your painful joints and play your favorite music and hold all of your weight so you could dance with him. But there would be a day when you would take your last breath and Hyunjin would remain the same, unchanged on the outside and shattered on the inside. His body, even the one of a mortal, would remain healthy and strong and young until his divine essence was allowed back among the gods.

And after you died, Hyunjin wouldn’t even be able to kill that body. He would be sentenced to live the rest of his immortal life without you, knowing that you had once existed and that you would never exist again.

A curse can sometimes come disguised as a blessing and a blessing as a curse. This, the young demigod knew all too well.

He should have been more careful. He should have run away from you the moment you made his heart skip a beat, the moment he saw you approach him in this very museum. He should have left when you began speaking not to him, but to his soul. But how could he resist you? How could he resist that feeling of belonging, of respite?

We were never a couple. What an awful, fucked up thing to say. It was all he wanted with you. To wake up in the bed you shared with him. To kiss your sleepy eyes and drape himself all over you, touching you all over, feeling your body against his, his precum rolling down your thigh, the scent of your pussy filling the room. Your hands all over him, too, loving him, and he loved you too. Fucking you hard or gently or both, staining the sheets with sweat and cum and devotion.

“So, let me put all the facts out there,” Jisung started. “You showed up here one day, took her to dinner, came back here to fuck her in her office and have been fucking her ever since. You didn’t break up because you weren’t a couple and now you’re offering to pay me to hang out with her?”

Hyunjin had never been one to feel rage. In fact, it was that trait of his that had caused his father to be so disappointed in him. He wanted for Hyunjin to be as seething, as furious as he was. But nothing had ever compelled Hyunjin to be angry, or outraged, and even less to offer any sort of retaliation. His first reaction had always been to back off and keep quiet. To observe. To keep his big emotions to himself. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been that, angry, or if he had ever been.

But he was now. Or at least he thought he was, Hyunjin wouldn’t have been able to tell for sure if the fire burning in his veins was rage, however he suspected it when he saw terror in Jisung’s eyes. But Hyunjin couldn’t control himself—he walked around the desk and grabbed the other man by the collar of his shirt, shoving him into the wall behind. “And how is that different than what you did to her? HOW?” He was stronger than Jisung, much stronger, and he ought to be careful except he couldn’t. “AT LEAST I LOVE HER. All you ever did was use her like some fleshlight and discard her when you wanted to try another toy.”

Jisung’s fear transferred to Hyunjin—he became afraid of himself, afraid of what he had done and what he wanted to do, which was to throw Jisung at the wall hard enough to hit his head. This is what he was—a disaster, creator of more disasters.

He let go of Jisung, backing away until he felt the wall behind his back. Jisung remained at the other side of the room, eyes on him, chest rising and falling as he took deep, deep breaths. Hyunjin wasn’t really expecting anything specifically to happen after such a scene, yet Jisung surprised him.

“What’s going on with her? Did someone… threaten her or something?” And Hyunjin understood then. Jisung had figured out that he wasn’t reacting this way for nothing.

Hyunjin couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t tell him that his god of a father would perhaps send something terrible upon you. It could be tomorrow or ten years from now. It could be a drunk driver while you crossed a street. It could be a heart attack. It could be a man just like him, a mortal version of Amaranthos, the god of violence and indulgence, the king of bloodshed, and this man would perhaps do unspeakable things to you.

He couldn’t tell that to Jisung, but he could be vague about it. “Or something, yeah,” he responded, his voice slow and slurred, almost like he was living a nightmare, and maybe he was. “So. Can you? Keep her safe?”

Jisung nodded, his eyes a little unfocused, like he was trying to put some order in his thoughts. He gulped thickly, finally managing to hold Hyunjin’s gaze. “Should I take my gun with me? Should I go now?”

“As soon as you can. As for the gun… if you can carry it, it might be for the best. An extra precaution. But don’t let her see it. And don’t tell her I sent you.” He reached into his pocket with a shaky, clammy hand. Crossing the room again, he handed the small bottle of cognac to Jisung. “Can you give this to her? It’s her favorite. Tell her it’s to celebrate her discovery.”

“Discovery?” Jisung took the bottle from him, and it went into his pocket.

“She… found something,” Hyunjin chose to say. “She’s working on it as we speak—she doesn’t have the flu. It’s, huh, it’s stressful, like really stressful. She’ll seem weird at times, so just… I don’t know. Just… don’t panic, stay with her, she’ll come back to her senses sometime later.” He motioned toward Jisung’s blazer pocket. “The cognac might help her calm down.” He hoped that the story he had constructed was believable enough. He was not afraid that the cognac wouldn’t make it to you or that you wouldn’t drink it—Kyma herself had brought it for you, so it meant you would get to taste it.

And it would make you indifferent. To him.

A heavy silence filled the room. Jisung stared at Hyunjin, at the window behind him, then at Hyunjin again before going to his desk, grabbing the phone there. He composed an extension and Hyunjin heard him trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah, Jung? Can you come up here and cover the cameras? I’ll call in Choi to be on floor duty. Yeah, after the Room 3 sweep is fine. Yeah, I gotta bounce.” Nothing else was said, he simply hung up the phone.

“I’ll go now.” Jisung grabbed his keys and his cell phone as well as his wallet from a drawer of his desk. “You’ll be around?”

“No.” He hadn’t really thought about the long-term version of things. “I’ll be out of the country for some time.” What Hyunjin meant is he would call his manager so that Seungmin could find him as many overseas contracts as possible, making sure his days and nights were fully booked. Anything to stay busy. Not that it would make him forget you, but it might help him stay away from you.

“Right.” Jisung went to the door and Hyunjin followed him. They walked past your office again, then went downstairs. The agents he had seen earlier were busy closing Room 3 for the hourly inspection.

“Mind if I go in while they do their thing?” Hyunjin asked almost absentmindedly, almost like he had no say in it. “Just to see the painting again, then I’ll leave for good.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Jisung seemed too preoccupied to really care. He simply waved at the male security guard and let him know Hyunjin would go in with them, which wasn’t questioned since the statement came from the Director of Security himself. “Take care, Hwang.”

“You too, Mr. Han.” And the men parted ways, just like that. Just like that, Hyunjin had forsaken the thing he liked most about himself, which was you.

Hyunjin went to stand in front of The Cypress Tree, the Calverley painting. He remembered the man, the salty scent of his house, of his skin, the taste of his lips. Behind him, the two guards were putting a few things in order in the large room. There was another skylight built into the ceiling here, but it was even bigger than in the other gallery.

It seemed to Hyunjin as though a ray of sun filtered through it only to illuminate the painting before him. Feliks, his youthful beauty, his hair of light.

Many many years ago, Feliks had given Arthur Calverley a message so that he could paint it onto a canvas with the aim that Hyunjin would come across it someday. It had taken all this time for him to be reunited with it. This painting, it was said, had killed Calverley, and Hyunjin believed it. The story around the painting was more like a folk tale to mortals but Hyunjin knew it to be true—the story said that Calverley had barged into the art supply store owned by his friend to buy more paints, claiming he had a strange dream and had been inspired by it.

So he had painted the message given by Feliks and it had killed him.

And Hyunjin was terrified that the same would happen to you, too.

Behind him, the two guards were now relaying some information to the front desk through their walkie-talkies and paid him absolutely no attention. Hyunjin went over the ribbon separating him from the painting, standing as close to it as he could without touching it.

He felt the warmth emanating from it. He could smell it, too—the scent of light, of warm cypress, of ripe peaches, of soft grass. Of Feliks, and his cum and Hyunjin’s cum, too. Their foolish, impossible love. He stared at the painting, letting Feliks’ apology enter his pores and melt into him.

“I miss you too, Feliks,” he murmured to the brush strokes that looked exactly like Feliks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I tried to be happy, I wanted to. I wanted her more than anything. Can you help me? Can you help me keep her safe?”

A cloud rolled into the sky, covering the sun, and Hyunjin wept.

... to be continued.

author's note: Wow… Honestly, guys? I had given up hope. I did not think I would ever update Lullaby. Not because I don’t care about it—because of the opposite, actually. There are a lot of emotions I associate with this story, and I think I needed time. A literal year later, here we are. Originally, I had imagined this to be the last chapter which would have been followed by an epilogue. I allowed myself to get carried away though, which will undoubtedly cost me notes and engagement because this chapter is very plot/mythology heavy and has minimal spice.

All that being said, I want to say thank you to the readers who support me through asks, reblogs or tips. You guys make one hell of a difference in my life as a lil kpop ficcie author. Thank you for your patience and thank you for loving the stories and their characters. It means more to me than you could think! 💕

permanent taglist: @abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @b4kuho3 ; @binstitsweat ; @casualtaelyn ; @cb97percent ; @changbinheart ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; @djeniryuu ; @dwaekkiracha ; @erispancakes ; @fwess ; @hanjingin ; @hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ; @hyunfruits ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh ; @hyunsungbased ; @hyuwunjinie ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @imseungminsgf ; @inkybird ; @jollchacho ; @katsukis1wife ; @lilbabiebunni ; @leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @miraworldsstuff ; @moasworld ; @neosracha ;@palindrome969 ; @revehosh ; @skzfelixlove ; @starseekersworld ; @straydhampir ; @straykids5star ; @suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

#hyunjin fic #skz smut #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hwang hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin smut #skz fic #this is a masterpiece that deserves its own book

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suhomylife · 4 months

Text

This is the most beautiful, tender and poetic smut I’ve ever read 😭😭 I wish it never ended, so emotional and intimate it almost made me cry 😭 what a masterpiece!

☆°. — ᴋɪss ᴇs

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x afab!reader

𝐰𝐜: 3.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral (afab receiving), very soft, lots of tension

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: something sweet for valentines day!! it's a bit rushed, hope you enjoy it nontheless <33

You lay sprawled across the bed, a book in hand. You had no blanket on you, yet you felt warm, and a heavy weight was pressing you down; Hyunjin was snoring softly against the sensitive crook of your neck, working far better than any weighted blanket you could acquire. His arms, lanky and long, were snaked around you, tightly, holding you so close that you almost didn’t believe that he was sleeping, that he was only pretending so you wouldn’t shoo him off. Not that you ever would, in the first place; you enjoyed being crushed beneath his weight far too much to ever deny his affection and love.

One hand of yours was tangled in his hair, massaging his scalp — you figured it was the very thing which has put him into his semi-deep slumber in the first place, so you only stopped it when necessary, after finishing a page and turning to the next one. Hyunjin's soft grunts of protest never went unnoticed; you huffed in amusement every time your fingers untangled from his messy locks and he sighed out in tired disagreement, before sounding entirely content again the moment your hands found themselves deep in his locks again. It was endearing. You thought you could find eternal happiness right then, right there.

It must have been several minutes, and you were twenty-something pages further in your book when the man stirred, suddenly, without a reason — you were but a statue beneath his body, not moving even an inch to not disturb, to not wake. Yet he stirred, moved around atop your body; his face buried further into your neck, tickling you, his breath hot and intoxicating, burning on your skin. He hummed, arms tightening around you - if possible - and he looked up at you. He was awake, though he didn't look it. His hair was an adorable mess, falling over his eyes and standing to all directions, his eyes barely open and puffy, only a little, and his left cheek wore the imprint of your shirt he had laid on. Endearing. You thought you could find eternal beauty if you as much as looked at him. Even minutes after waking up.

You giggled, softly, your hand still in his hair, still massaging.

"Hi."

He huffed out amusement at that, closing his eyes to bask in your antics at his hair, leaning into your hand, fully at peace. He hummed again, in satisfaction now, in pleasure, and it sent a shock of electricity throughout every fibre of your body. He must have noticed, must have sensed you tensing up, and he smiled - not in malice, simply acknowledging. A shiver ran down your spine then.

"You're still reading, huh?"

Hyunjin's voice sounded quietly through the room, almost melodic, harmonizing with the birdsong outside. It didn't disturb the silence, only added to the atmosphere, leisure, lazy, loving. You nodded at his question, continued massaging the skin in his nape, hummed, then, affirmatively. There was a lot of humming in the room, sighs and huffs instead of words, for words seemed, almost, too heavy; and you understood each other without.

Hyunjin's face buried into your neck again - though not without a plan this time, not to merely rest. He kissed the skin there, softly, patient. Slow. As though dragging out his movements would make the moment last forever. He kissed, open-mouthed kisses, wet kisses, loud kisses, stingy kisses; he couldn't help but bite down on you every other moment, not a lot, enough only to show purest affection, most primal desire.

Your skin was sensitive. You were shivering in his hold, you were shivering at the feeling of the warmth his breath glazed over your neck. He was holding you close, his hands exploring the expanse of your back; though barely noticeable. He was barely even moving his hands, so slow you weren't sure he was at all, until you noticed them laying elsewhere, suddenly - close to your neck, then the small of your back, then wrapping around your shoulders from behind. Always pulling you closer. Always keeping you near, as much as physically possible. You moaned out quietly, softly, barely even audible, but it dizzied him, and Hyunjin bit down against the back of your ear with more fervour than before. You mewled, and you felt him smile against your skin.

When he spoke his next words, his voice was muffled, absorbed almost entirely by your body.

"Read for me. Out loud… please."

You chuckled, not less because the words against your skin sent tickles down the entirety of your body. Hyunjin, despite his wish, stayed buried in your neck; he was nibbling at the lobe of your ear now, kissing there a second after, listening to the way your breath hitched in your throat. He wasn't making a move to separate from you - you tried shoving him off, giggling softly in the process.

"You need to let me... actually read, then"

Your voice was quiet, amused, and followed momentarily by a sigh of pleasure. Hyunjin licked at the goosebumps on your neck, right where it connected to the shoulder; your favourite spot, the most sensitive one. He hummed out in disagreement, didn't as much as raise his head to answer you.

"Just read. While I...", he traced off, kissed your shoulder, touched your waist, squeezed your hips; he looked up at you with puppy eyes, and you nearly lost it all, "...do this..." More kisses to your body; seemingly, he wanted to cover every possible inch of you in traces of his love. If to mark you his, or to remind himself of having you, you weren't sure, but you loved it all the same.

So you read. With his lips on your body, distracting you embarrassingly from the words you tried to make sense of. They didn't quite, and after having read an entire page you lost sight of the plot, entirely. What you never lost sight of, never lost feeling about was Hyunjin's body on your own, his melting into yours. He was consistent, determined, almost. It was pathetic how often your voice trembled and shook when his lips met your body anew; you ought to be used to it already, now that his kisses had reached the expanse of your chest, your collarbones, now that he nibbled right below your shoulders - yet you weren't. You hissed every time his mouth swallowed you whole, every time his wet lips came in contact with an additional inch of your body. You would never get used to it, would never grow tired of him.

You read, and he kissed. Kissed your body away, not leaving a spot of yours undoted. And his hands were sinful. They were wandering, exploring your body while you tried not to lose hold of the book with your own trembling fingers. You tried to keep your composure, tried to be coy when Hyunjin's nimble, cold fingers, far too long for his own good, far too sensual, unclipped the first button of your sleepwear. You stopped reading when he opened the next one - though the man merely looked at you from below his lashes, eyes dark and blown out, urging you on to continue while another kiss met your body. You blinked, once, twice, five times, watching him cover your chest in kisses and love-bites, in spit and hushed confessions. You watched him open another button - at that point your chest lay entirely in the nude, your lack of underwear always delighting the man, and the little bit of stomach Hyunjin had exposed was covered momentarily in his mouth. You watched him, long forgotten the literature in your hands; and then he stopped. Suddenly stopped sucking on your skin, licking and biting on it, easing it with kisses instantly. He stopped moving his hands along your body, too - he looked up at you, expectantly, waiting. You watched him, and he only reciprocated your gaze.

"Read."

Not a command, yet his voice was but a whisper, and it sent thousand shivers to your core. They ran all across your body, the shivers, painting you in goose flesh before they collected right between your legs, right where the man’s body was laying, right where you needed him, right where he was miles away from, seemingly. He wouldn't give in too easily. You knew him - he would drag it out, he would wait on you to continue reading, which, stupidly, you were oh so unable to do, with him all around you, and he wouldn't give you what you craved for before he'd complete his travel on your body, before his lips had tasted every inch of you excessively.

So you continued reading. Shakily, your voice trembling, though you couldn't be embarrassed by it, not when seconds later you felt Hyunjin's lips on your skin again, seemingly satisfied. He had reached your stomach, left wet patches where his mouth met, left love-bites. Left smirks, too; you could feel his amusement on your body whenever your breath hitched in your throat, whenever you restarted a sentence because your voice had trailed off to sighs of frustration. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed that you enjoyed it.

It must have been ages until he had opened all buttons on the flimsy pyjama top you were wearing. You were squirming by then, impatient, intoxicated, needing. Hyunjin lay between your thighs, his face now levelled with your lower tummy, with your core. His arms were snaked around your thighs, holding you close - so close you thought he was scared that you'd slip away if he let go for only a second, but you didn't mind it. You felt his hot breath on your skin, his hotter mouth on the plush of your stomach, the cold breeze against your hardening nipples. Your senses overwhelmed, and Hyunjin wasn't making it easy on you, either; he continued kissing, continued licking, never stopped biting at your body, doting on all his favourite parts, caressing all your favourite spots. He knew you inside and out, he knew the sensitivity of your inner thighs, he knew you enjoyed feeling his breath fawn over it before he gave it a kiss - so he did just that, and he smiled to himself when you mewled out his name. You couldn't keep reading. It was impossible for you to.

"Hyun..."

Your voice was quiet, as though shy; it was needy, too, and if Hyunjin wasn't so focused on basking in your pleasure, he'd blow right then and there. He'd lose his mind over the way your thighs tensed with every kiss he planted there, how your body squirmed when he neared your core, only to pull away again and lick and kiss near your knees. He almost whimpered out in bashful satisfaction at the way you stopped reading, entirely, to call out his name, to let your hands search for his hair, to pull on it slightly when you found it moments later - he lost himself in everything you were, in everything he loved about you.

Though he could keep his composure, just enough. Seemingly mirically, because his body was reacting to your own like flames, igniting one another and impossible to put out. He was as hot as you felt, as intoxicated, just as needing.

"You gotta keep reading, babe."

Another kiss to your inner thighs, an open-mouthed one, a wet one. He was determined to drive you insane.

You whimpered, huffed out in what sounded like amusement. Hyunjin looked up at you, his mouth never breaking contact with your skin. He watched your closed eyes, the way you relished in the feeling of him, the way you were asking for more, silently, wordlessly. The way your body was pleading, the way he could read it without you saying as much as a word about it. He continued kissing, waiting for an answer. He moved slow, giving attention to every inch of your body before he even thought of moving on.

"Feels so good, though."

He trembled at your words. He shivered at the shake of your voice, at the sigh that followed it. He wanted you, he needed you, always. He would never grow sick of it. He would never grow sick of you. You lay there before him, and you wanted him. You lay there so vulnerable for him, and only him. You lay there, and were so honest about your pleasure, pleasure only he could give you; Hyunjin would never grow tired of the way you loved him.

Though, mirically, he continued keeping his composure. Witchcraft, surely, because you were irresistible, having pulled him in entirely, long ago.

"I know... wanna hear you read to me, though."

Your sigh of frustration was music to his ears. The scent of your clothed core, your scent, the feeling of the plush of your thighs, your bare chest, your tortured expression, your fingers in the depth of his hair - it was his death sentence.

"C'mon."

So you continued reading. Because you knew him enough to know he was patient - though, barely, just enough - to not give into you too fast, only to relish in you more. You continued reading, and every further word of yours made him move closer to your core. Shaky words, trembling words, though you made it through one sentence, then through another. And Hyunjin's mouth was closer, and closer, and closer to where you needed him so very urgently.

It must have been ten sentences when his fingers fanned over your waist, the part where your underwear cut into your flesh. He toyed with the elastic band, let it wrap around his fingers, only teased to take it off though never did. Not for another minute, not for another two. He stopped entirely when you stopped reading; only when you picked it up again he continued his ministrations. After a moment or two, Hyunjin pulled down your underwear, though only enough to expose a bit of your pubic bone. You hissed, voice fading almost into nothingness, though you kept reading until a kiss of his met your skin. You hissed again, then, and you were ready to kill him for the past thirty minutes of teasing, and doting, and malice, and loving. You needed him, and you weren’t sure how much longer your patience could hold out.

Hyunjin kissed your thighs. He didn’t leave your core forgotten, though – his mouth sucked onto the plushest part of your inner leg, right below your sex, and his fingers tangled into the waistband of your white, lacen panties, his favourite pair, to take them off you, slowly. If you hadn’t been quick enough, or attentive enough, or far too hyperaware of every of his movement, you wouldn’t have as much as noticed how you, excruciating moments later, lay before him in the nude, almost entirely – only your pyjama top adorning you, though it was barely enough to leave anything to the imagination. And Hyunjin yet took his time, yet didn’t give into you – you weren’t sure how he did it. You were exposed, you were vulnerable; though he acted like you weren’t, for a while longer. His lips painted most frustrating picture on your thighs, travelling to the hollow of your knees – slowly, relishing in your squirming, basking in the way your skin felt against his, as you relished in the way his hands accompanied his lips’ journey along your heated body. You were hot, very much so; Hyunjin ignited you with every touch, with every kiss, with every lick of his sinful tongue – he ignited you, even, with a gaze, eyes so lewd and speaking you didn’t know what was harder; looking straight into them or keeping track of your reading.

And it was when you lost your patience altogether, entirely, finally, that he did, too. It was a mewl, barely a whisper, even; you were surprised Hyunjin heard the weak call of his name in the first place, the plead in your voice, the longing. And it wasn’t a second after that his lips, the ones that had been tracing your body for seeming hours, for and eternity, that had covered you in spit and love and longing and passion, finally connected with your wetness. You were dripping, practically, his tireless teasing having egged you on far more than you were brave to admit. You felt Hyunjin kiss against your clit, lick it right after only to elicit a moan from you – it was embarrassing, how fast you were reacting to him and his body, how very little your composure held; but then again, you were hypersensitive. Had been, ever since he’d opened that first button, ever since a first kiss had fluttered over your body in a manner so loving it pulled at your heart.

Hyunjin’s hands were wrapped around you again, your own – book long forgotten and discarded somewhere next to you – tangled tightly in his hair. With every pull he moaned, groaned deeply into your pussy, and with every of his sound your body jolted, and vibrations set off in the entirety of your body. And he noticed, too, for he never made attempts to quiet down.

The sounds of your pleasure echoed through the room in harmony. The melodies of your names created a symphony, topped off with the lewd noise of his lips against your sex. He was making out with it, was sucking on your clit, kissing it, licking it, sucking it again. He was breathing you in, he was inhaling you entirely; as though wanting to make you his, wanting to annihilate your body with his own, to make one out of two, to melt together for eternity, as though a candle standing too close to the other. And you lost yourself at his passion. You were squirming, screaming, almost, his name, pleads, his name again. You weren’t sure you knew any other words that moment, your own name, even; he was everything you thought of, his tongue now lying flat against your slit and licking in thick stripes the only thing your mind was occupied with. All attempts of keeping your composure were long forgotten; you couldn’t possibly if he made you feel this way, when shocks of fire and electricity shot through your body with every squeeze his hands granted your thighs, and you didn’t want to, in the first place. You didn’t want to keep your composure. You didn’t want to try and not lose yourself in him; because you knew him enough to know he wanted you entirely, in honesty. And you knew him enough to know he lost himself within you all the same.

It wasn’t until two of his fingers teased your entrance, while his tongue flicked across your clit that your body started trembling. As though it was lain in ice suddenly, shaking against your lover who wasn’t giving you a chance to catch your breath. He inserted two digits into your warmth, smiled against your clit at the way you clenched around him momentarily. A soul-ripping whine left your throat then, and your fingers dug into the man’s scalp – it was bound to hurt, though he liked it. He would never not.

And Hyunjin yet moved slow. He didn’t move his fingers, even, for several moments after filling you with them; he kept them still, felt you wiggling around in search of friction. Only after you cried out his name, in obvious frustration, which, anew, made him smile against your sex, his hand started moving. Sensually, patiently, pumping in, then out, then in, then out again – before he curled his long, cold fingers up, and caressed that gooey spot within you. It was too easy, too thoughtless for him. A second nature, almost, the way he knew your body. Almost better than his own.

And you cried out again. You felt Hyunjin pump against your spot, over and over and over until your body felt in flames entirely, until you ignited him with them, until his own desire took over his body, made him feral. He fastened his pace now, sucked a little harsher, cursed a little louder, kissed a little harder. Against your clit, against your heat, against your very vulnerability, the one only he had access to. The one you only ever gifted him – and then you came, when his free hand pulled you closer to his body, tightly around your thigh and groping at your flesh, when the sensitivity tip-toed on the verge of being too much. You came in waves, stormy and urgent, entirely overwhelming. Your body shook, your voice was loud, your eyes were shut so close you saw stars against the darkness; and Hyunjin held you through it. Held you close, held you near to him, as though you’d disappear if he didn’t. As though he almost succeeded in merging your body with his own, in connecting your very souls to one.

And maybe he did. Maybe your body was his own, and maybe his was yours. And maybe your souls had been one and the same the very moment he had first longed for you, had first loved you; had first let his lips dance upon your skin, had first kissed you.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

#hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids imagines

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suhomylife · 5 months

Text

The endingggggggggggggggg!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺

And I can’t but agree with the phrase that Hyunjinnie’s face is the least beautiful thing about him. Like he’s gorgeous but it’s so much more than just a pretty face. I didn’t know how to put it but you did it just perfectly!

the premise: ur reaction to hyunjin's new short purple hair. this is very self indulgent and silly and fluffy and im mad at this man for being so pretty (i love him so much)

"are your eyes closed?" hyunjin's voice echoes from behind the door, as you lie on your stomach upon the bed.

"they are!" you yell back, palms pressing tightly against your eyelids. "can you hurry, i miss the light."

"you are so dramatic," hyunjin giggles, and you can vividly imagine him, head tipped back, a fond smile etched on his face—the one he reserves just for you. it sends a tingling warmth through your spine; you've come to learn hyunjin through these past three years, you can now clearly envision him, even behind your darkened eyelids, picturing every mimic of his as if he's right before you.

"save me boyfriend with pretty brown eyes, save me!"

"just a few more seconds baby, i promise," he quickly reassures, and you bite your lip slightly. you know he must be running his hands through his hair, trying to tame the stubborn strands you love to tuck behind his ear. a slight nervous shake in his limbs as he assesses himself in the enormous vanity mirror in your room. hyunjin knows he's good looking, it would be idiotic of him to believe otherwise. but it is always after significant changes in his appearance that he becomes almost shier, as if adjusting to the person reflecting back in the mirror.

"you're really pretty, you know that, right?" you speak softly.

"you didn't even see me yet," a smile is latched onto his words, making them ring sweetly in your ears.

"i don't need to. i think you are physically incapable of being ugly. beauty just oozes from each one of your features."

"okay, you can look now because i need to kiss you before i pass out," he sighs and you laugh before swiftly pulling your hands away from your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to adjust to the stream of light coursing through your pupils. and then, your gaze locks on hyunjin.

his hair is short again. deep purple reflections dancing underneath the silver light of your bedroom.

you blink.

his hair is still short. and purple.

you blink again.

"are you... malfunctioning?" he chuckles, eyes disappearing into moon crescents.

"holy shit," you whisper, scrambling to the edge of the bed where he's standing, fidgeting from one leg to another. you quickly stand on the mattress so you can tower over him, turning his head to the left, then right.

"you cut your hair," you whisper in wonder.

"i did. do you like it?"

"do. i. like. it?" you repeat incredulously, running your fingers through his silky threads. "i prayed for this day to come, you don't understand," you beam at him, wrapping your hand around his neck, his hands find the slate of your waist, pressing you closer to him.

"did you now, love?"

"you're so pretty. i hate you," you sigh, tugging at his strands in wonder, admiring the rich color that's dancing off his hair.

"that sounds contradictory," he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. you bite his arm in response. he yelps loudly in true hyunjin fashion.

"you're actually so gorgeous it maddens me. how are you real," you pinch his cheek slightly, and he only screeches louder. "how are you mine?" you add, poking his nose, and he wraps an arm around your midriff, before throwing you back into the bed, this time hovering over you.

"because you're you, so i can't be anything but yours."

"give me a minute," you sigh, closing your eyes. "i can't handle your words and your hair at the same time."

"you're an idiot," he laughs, and it sounds so genuine, a barely concealed 'thank you' peeking behind the syllables, as he buries his head in your neck. you can't help but smile in response.

"let me look at you," you cradle his face between your hands, your noses brushing against one another. your gaze turns serious as you drink in each feature of his. you love his long hair, love running your hands through it and braiding his locks before you sleep. but his short hair makes his features more prominent, undisturbed by stray strands that never want to remain in place.

you can feel his cheeks warm up underneath your touch, his gaze growing shier under your scrutinization, his head tilting to the side, pressing further onto your palm. nothing about your love has changed, even after three years of dating.

"you really like it?" he asks, tone quiet, lips brushing against your own, velvet meeting velvet.

"i do," you whisper, before pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "you know what's insane about you?"

"do tell," he smiles, bopping his nose against your own.

"your face is so goddamn pretty, and yet, it is the least beautiful thing about you."

"i know," he smiles, pecking your cheek, then your wrist in a tenderness that makes your heart drop to your knees. "you're the most beautiful part of me."

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #hyunjin fluff #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids imagine

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suhomylife · 6 months

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This is for sure one of the best one shots I’ve ever read.

The tension was so high, I had to put my phone down so many times times to calm down and then reread the paragraph again. The smut….I can’t even express it. Absolutely crazy. Extremely hot. Very fresh. It is definitely so different from the classic smut scenario I’ve read here on tumblr and I really cherished this sensation of something new and so well written.

Sassy Hyun is a special treat that I never really thought about but really really enjoyed. The banter was absolutely crazy, the way Mc was ready to throw objects in Jinnie made me laugh a lot. She is a thing too, for sure.

The sleepy aftersex giggles felt like an aftercare for me. I wonder what our boy would do in the morning. Will he kiss her good morning? Would he try to turn this into something more than a one time thing? How would the Mc behave? I have so many thoughts on how this can elevate.

You never stop surprising us, Mari. You took the simple tropes, angry sex and turned it into a masterpiece that I’ve already read twice and will definitely return to it again and again. I love what you do to the moon and back.

jury's still out | one-shot

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader | wc: 12k | genre: rivals to hooking up ; smut with plot | general warnings: workplace rivalry ; only one bed ; hate sex ; mild violence (slapping) | explicit sexual content, this work is for adult audiences ; explicit warnings under the cut | Author compiles major/relevant warnings only. Reader discretion is advised.

Every Monday was more of the same—you checked your schedule which contained way too many meetings, and then you looked at the assigned cases for the week. And every single Monday, Hwang Hyunjin was assigned the best, most interesting case.

*Installment of The Red Lights Chronicles

explicit warnings: slapping (m receiving) ; kinda dom!hyunjin ; mild/moderate degradation ; rough unprotected sex ; no aftercare — every act taking place is consensual.

“You’ve got to be FUCKING kidding me! Him again?”

You slammed your fist on your desk, causing a few drops from your coffee to spill over your cup and land on a file. With yet another grunt, you hurried to grab a tissue and try to prevent too much bleeding through the sheets. The intern in the cubicle next to yours shot a worried glance at you, swirling his chair to face you. Jeongin arrived here just last week, and your manager stuck him with you because you had ‘enough time’ to ‘show him the ropes.’

“Miss? Should I make another copy of those?” he asked, rising from his chair and motioning toward the file, which was in fact one of the files from a case you had just won.

Jeongin was a nice boy, a good intern, but you just lacked the patience with interns, despite remembering being one not so long ago. You took a deep breath, making sure that none of the sheets had been ruined by coffee. “No, it’ll be fine. Thanks. Did you fill out the forms I asked you for today’s meeting?”

“Almost done, miss,” he said with a dip of the head, adjusting the thick black glasses over his nose. “Are you… alright?”

With a sigh, you turned to your screen again where you had been looking at the schedule for the week. Every Monday was more of the same—you checked your schedule which contained way too many meetings, and then you looked at the assigned cases for the week.

And every single Monday, Hwang Hyunjin was assigned the best, most interesting case.

“Look at this shit, Jeongin. Tell me what’s wrong with this.” Maybe this would be the best way to prepare him for his life as a defense attorney—it would be best if he was fully informed about it. You had known this was a competitive line of work, but nobody had prepared to be faced with someone whose ego was as big as Hwang.

Jeongin leaned over the computer, reading the screen carefully. “Uh… Miss, I don’t know, I—”

“Look at the Kang/Seon case.” You even showed him the names, pointing your index at the screen. “Remember, we talked about this case yesterday?”

“Oh yeah, the conflict of interest case, right?” As though you were a literal teacher and him the student, Jeongin straightened up to describe the case that you had reviewed with him. “Mr. Kang was named executive director in Mr. Seon’s company, but that was deemed a conflict of interest due to Mr. Kang’s financial involvement in Seon’s old bank.”

You nodded. “That case can make a career, Yang. It can unmake it, too. But if Changbin assigned it to Hwang…”

With a sigh, you leaned back into your chair. Of course they would give that case to Hwang. The up-and-coming star, the handsome, conceited prick who went through law school on his parents’ money. God’s favorite. He always had it so easy.

“Do you think it means Mr. Hwang will be up for the promotion you want, then?” Jeongin questioned, his eyes suddenly turning big and inquisitive.

There was an ongoing rumor about a big promotion coming up among the junior associates, and it was the talk of the moment. Hell, some people were even betting on who would get it, and whether it came with a window office and a decent parking space. As in betting with money on it.

And, of course, like any other promotion, it would come with a significant raise in salary.

“If he wins,” you admitted reluctantly, “he’ll probably be promoted. Yes.” And this was not the first big case that Hyunjin was given in the past few months, which meant nothing good for you.

Your assigned intern clicked his tongue, shaking his head. You let silence fill the immediate area, but you could hear conversations in the distance and a lot of frantic typing on keyboards. You recognized the usual ambiance before the Monday morning meetings—everybody getting ready for it, reviewing their files, catching up on stuff with others if they had to.

“But what about you?” Jeongin questioned. “What case did they give you, miss? Is it a good one? What if it’s a case that could make your career, too?”

You hadn’t even thought about it, too upset that you didn’t get the Kang/Seon case. You scrolled further on the page, looking for your name.

“The fuck?” You read the line one, two, three times. “THE FUCK?”

The words Kang/Seon were also written next to your name.

“But that’s great news!” Jeongin cheered, clapping his hands once as a sign of victory. “And two associates on the same case means it’s a lot more likely you will win the case!”

You stared at your screen, speechless. Unbelievable. Absolutely fucking crazy, actually, that they’d have you work on a case with Hwang. Hwang was known for being just about the worst when it came to teamwork, preferring the lone-wolf kind of lifestyle. He was sort of famous for it, too. For winning cases on his own when they should have been handled by two attorneys. He took great pride in that, walking around with a self-satisfied grin on his pretty face when he came back from the courthouse.

Seeing that you had been assigned to that case should have been good news. It should have made you excited. Instead, you had to take a few deep breaths to calm down and not cry minutes before the meeting, or else your mascara would be ruined.

You being on this case with Hwang only meant one thing: he would shine because he was the favored one. And you would be invisible, no matter what.

Could it be revenge? Could it be that Changbin had heard about the job offer you got from another firm and that he simply wanted you gone? You hadn’t said a definitive no to the other firm because their offices were closer to your place. But you liked working here. Most of the time anyway.

With a sigh, you grabbed your things, getting ready to make it to the conference room. “Let’s go to this meeting and get this over with.”

“Just a note about the new paralegals—please let them do some of the work.” Your boss’ smile faltered slightly as he spoke. Changbin sat opposite from you at the large conference table, but was addressing everyone. “Let them do more research, something, anything. If management keeps thinking we don’t need them, they’ll cut my budget even more.” The declaration was received with a few faint chuckles around the table, but you could barely hear anything that was going on.

Click click. Click click. Click click.

Click click. Click click.

Also sitting opposite of you but farther down the table was Hwang Hyunjin, always with that smug expression on his pretty face, fidgeting relentlessly with his retractable pen. Click click. Click click. Click click. He chuckled with the others at Changbin’s comment, his stupidly broad shoulders shaking with his frankly derisive laughter. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a few deep breaths. Click click. Click click.

“Can you stop that?” The words blurted out of your mouth before you could stop them—not that you wanted to stop them anyway. “Can you stop?”

Hyunjin raised a pair of amused eyes at you. He had the eyes of a doll, and perfect eyebrows, too. His nose was just as perfect, but everybody knew Hwang Hyunjin had the best pair of lips in the whole office. Including himself—he was very aware of the way he looked, and the effect he had on people.

He ran his fingers through his short, thick hair, and it fell back into place perfectly, as though he was freshly out of the hair salon. God’s favorite, truly. “Stop what?” he retorted, tilting his head to the side with a grin on his face. “I’m literally just sitting.”

You tsked him. “You know exactly. The pen. Please stop playing with it. We’re trying to work here.”

Hyunjin smacked his pretty perfect lips together, observing you. Warmth spread all over your face—Changbin had stopped talking and all the attention was on you. Hyunjin had the kind of eyes that really studied people, too, and it always felt as though he could read them. You had once speculated that he could genuinely read minds, which had sent you into an immediate panic—you did not want him to know everything going through your head.

Hyunjin had another chuckle, more amused this time. His eyes, briefly, turned into crescents. “Well, I’m so very sorry ma’am for disturbing your peace. I shall cease this activity right this second. Ma’am.” With that sarcastic retort, he dramatically let go of the pen and placed it next to his unopened notebook. He always brought a notebook with him although he exclusively used his laptop to take notes, and you suspected the fancy leather-bound journal was just for show.

Ma’am?! You wanted nothing more than to insult him to his face and, for once, make him see that he was not the main character, despite him obviously feeling like he was. But the many pairs of eyes on you were more than enough to pacify you. You had been assigned a big case, and even though you were partnered up with that prick, you needed to be professional if you wanted any sort of positive outcome for yourself.

You cleared your throat, swallowing the fuck you that you so badly wanted to spit at Hyunjin. “Thank you so very much for your cooperation, sir. From the bottom of my heart. I profoundly enjoy being able to hear and focus on what my boss has to say, you see—just a stupid habit of mine. Sir.”

You sat straight in your chair, turning away from Hyunjin before you could even see what face he was making. Changbin seemed amused by the situation, concealing a laugh into a fist over his mouth. To his left, Felix, a senior associate, was also avoiding eye contact so as not to laugh openly. The interns show a little more restraint, but not by much.

Changbin coughed, wiping a tear off the corner of his eye. “Okay, last order of business before someone ends up with a pen in their eye—the Kang/Seon case. Sir and Ma’am, I assume you know the basics of the case. What’s the angle here?”

Thanks to Hyunjin’s annoyingly attractive nonchalance, you managed to speak before him.

“Well, it’s quite evident that there was a certain bias, so I think we should state that Mr. Kang took the job because of his involvement in the company, fully aware of the situation,” you replied. “To make it seem like he’s some sort of fanboy.”

Changbin took a few notes on his phone. “Interesting. Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin let out a snort.“Obviously, our best approach is to deny everything. It’s not like Kang doesn’t have several millions to invest—his financial involvement with Seon might appear significant to us, but in reality, it’s nothing for this guy. Who cares?”

The audacity. Hyunjin stared at you from his chair, raising his eyebrows and shrugging with a stupid smile on his face. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed to no end. If looks could kill, you’d be staring at a dead body at this instant. It was as though you were in purgatory and Hyunjin had been sent to test you. He could not be more your exact opposite.

“As we go into this case, you guys are gonna have to pretend like you consulted each other once in a while, okay?” Changbin commented, but he didn’t seem mad. A corner of his lips was curved into a half smile. “I actually like both of these angles, which doesn’t help anybody here. But since it’s our first case of the sort, I arranged for you two to meet with some of my friends from down south tomorrow. They’ve dealt with a lot of similar cases, and they agreed to lend a hand as a gesture of friendship for me. We met in law school, and they’re good people.”

“Damn, I haven’t seen Chris and Ji in forever, I’m actually jealous!” Felix protested with a large smile on his bright face. “If I wasn’t so busy with the Nam case, I’d go along.”

“Well, I need you on the Nam case,” Changbin pointed out. “Besides, I’m certain that these two can come to an agreement.” Your boss spoke directly to you and Hyunjin in alternance. “Don’t embarrass me. Hyunjin, don’t fucking play with your pens and shit. And you,” he added, turning to you, “work on your acting. It’d be great if you didn’t look like you’re about to commit murder during dinner, or worse—in front of the judge.”

Oh, fantastic. You didn’t need psychic powers to know you were about to have an awful next couple of days. Maybe this really was a test, not necessarily from God, but from your boss. What if this was his way to verify your loyalty to the firm? By forcing you to work with your—and there really was no other way to put it—enemy? Maybe he thought that if you did stay after that, you were a solid attorney and human being, and worth investing in.

Or maybe Changbin just really enjoyed watching you lose your temper. In which case he must have had a blast during the meeting.

“Wonderful,” Hyunjin said flatly, his large eyes on you. “I so cannot wait to work with you, ma’am.”

He had a death wish, didn’t he? He had to. Why else would he have such nerve? As though being pretty and tall gave him every right.

“I’m so looking forward to this,” you replied with the exact same voice. “Sir.”

Changbin gave the wooden table a gentle slap. “If you guys promise to behave, I’ll make sure you stay in a great hotel with a hot tub! Four stars and all!”

It literally did not matter the number of stars—you were going to hate this. Nothing that could possibly happen would make working with Hwang even a little bit more pleasant.

“Can you check again?”

“I just checked three times, miss. I’m very sorry, but the only reservation I have in your name is for the one room.” The hotel receptionist gave you yet another contrite look. “Under the names Hwang Hyunjin and Y/LN Y/N.”

You felt panic take over you, looking everywhere around you. The lobby of the hotel was impressive, as promised by Changbin. The whole hotel was furnished in a very modern style but with elegant ornate details. You knew one thing—you couldn’t afford to pay for a room here with your own money. Actually, you feared that if you did use your credit card here, your bank would assume that your card had been stolen and would block the transaction. You were still paying your student debt, after all, and avoided spending large sums of money.

Behind you, Hyunjin cleared his throat, approaching for the first time since you had attempted to check-in. He rolled his fancy suitcase along with him, leaning his arm over the lavish counter, looking as dapper as always despite being fresh off the train. “There’s been a mistake,” Hyunjin argued with poise and a seducing smile. “We’re not a couple. I believe the person who took the reservation must have misunderstood.”

The hotel employee stared at Hyunjin a little longer than she needed to. She glanced at her computer before looking up again. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Hwang, but it seems the reservation was made online, and that the honeymoon suite has been specifically requested.”

Hyunjin closed his eyes, clicking his tongue and pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You’ve got to be shitting me…” he cursed under his breath. “Are there two beds in the room?”

The employee blinked a few times. “It is the honeymoon suite, Mr. Hwang.”

You stared behind you, where a line of a few other clients was starting to form, and they didn’t look particularly patient. “Can’t you just get another room?” you asked Hyunjin in a low voice, leaning closer to him.

He looked appalled. “Why me? My name came first on the reservation, I think I should keep it.”

“That’s so fucking childish!” You let out an irritated sigh. “You and your fancy-ass suits can definitely afford a room!”

Hyunjin shook his head. “If you think I’m so fancy, why shouldn’t I get the good room? Get one of the basic ones, it’s just one night, who gives a shit?”

The receptionist interrupted you before you could even reply to him. “I’m very sorry, but we are fully booked for the night—there are two conventions currently going on in the city. If I may—the honeymoon suite had been booked as of a few days ago, as there was a last-minute cancellation. I can only assume that whoever made the reservation for you did not have any other choice. I’m truly sorry, but as of right now, I cannot offer you another room.”

Fucking great. You grunted, shoving your hand into the pocket of your jacket to retrieve your phone, unsure of what you even wanted to do. Maybe you wanted to look for another hotel—if they even had anything available nearby. Maybe you wanted to call Changbin. But then you caught a glimpse of what time it actually was.

“Shit, Hwang. We gotta sort this out, we have to be at dinner in an hour.” Changbin had also made a reservation in a restaurant right by the hotel. Unless he had somehow messed this up as well. “What do we do? I wanted to shower and get ready…”

Hyunjin grunted softly and turned to the receptionist again. “Can we please get the keycards? But I’ll make sure to get to the bottom of this.”

The receptionist seemed relieved when she handed you your keycards. You and Hyunjin took off, walking at a quick pace toward the nearest elevator.

“I’ll make sure to get to the bottom of this,” you said in a perfect imitation of Hyunjin just moments ago. “Is your middle name Karen or something, Hwang?”

“Oh, fuck you.” Hyunjin frantically pushed the elevator button, as if it would make it go any faster. “There’s no way Changbin actually booked the honeymoon suite for a business trip.”

“And yet he did.” The elevator made it to you with a ding. When the door slid open, you let people walk out of it, often shooting glances at your phone to look at the time.

“I mean—yes, he booked it, but it was a prank. Against me. I’m willing to bet Minho is in on it.”

“The big boss? In on it?” You scoffed, walking into the elevator. “And you’re on a first-name basis with him?”

Hyunjin shrugged. “We went for beers after I won the Jung vs. Kwon case a few months back. He’s pretty cool once you get to know him.”

You watched the numbers on the elevator screen as they went up. So Hyunjin was friendly with Mr. Lee himself. That wasn’t nothing—Mr. Lee had founded the firm along with Mr. Kim.

God, so this was all a joke. The case, this partnership. It was a fucking joke—and you were a goddamn clown. There was no way Hwang wasn’t getting that promotion if he was an ass-kisser. Which, in hindsight, shouldn’t have surprised you nearly as much as it did.

“Minho is very meticulous, checks everything that goes on in the company. Obviously, Changbin would have needed to explain why he booked a honeymoon suite for this trip. They must have had a blast planning this. They like pranks.”

They like pranks, as though the three of them had shared a womb or something. “Ha. Ha. Ha. I’ve never seen anything that funny in my entire life.” You sighed, relieved to see the elevator had made it to your floor. “Whatever. Let’s just get ready for dinner. We should also talk about what we’re gonna tell these guys.”

You tried to keep up with him in the hallway, but Hyunjin’s long legs made him much more efficient at walking than you, and he was always several steps ahead.

“Talk? About what?”

Was he even for real? “About the fucking case, Hwang! What else?”

Hyunjin bit into his smile, pulling out his keycard from a pocket of his jeans and unlocking the door with it. “Why would we talk? Let’s present our angles to them. They’re the consultants. They’ll advise us. May the best attorney win.”

If you weren’t in such a hurry, you would actually open your mouth and reply with something witty. Instead, you simply followed him into the room and closed the door behind you.

The room was large and luxurious. The bedroom was separated from the rest of the room by a wall but it had no door, just an entrance to it. There was, however, a hot tub at the far end of the main room, right by the wide windows from which you could see the sunset. Everything was very clean, and very classy—exactly as promised by Changbin. Except that now that you were thinking about it, he had never explicitly promised two rooms… Prank or not, he would hear your thoughts on the matter as soon as this meeting was over.

There was a couch on the opposite corner of the hot tub. Both you and Hyunjin were staring at it. “Maybe one of us could sleep on the couch,” you offered. Not that you would have been happy to spend a whole night in the same room as Hyunjin.

“I guess it makes sense,” Hyunjin replied with a shrug. “We’ll have to write down our thoughts and cross-check our notes together after dinner anyway, it’ll be too late to find another hotel or something. Whatever, I don’t care.” If he did care, it didn’t show—the Hwang nonchalance was unmatched, as always.

You did a quick tour of the room—the bathroom was nice and spacious, with one of those really fancy showers that had all sorts of attachments and jets to them. When you returned, Hyunjin was on his way to the bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

Hyunjin didn’t even look behind him. He rolled his suitcase into the bedroom and removed his jacket before stretching his shoulders and neck. “What do you mean? I’m getting ready, same as you.”

“But why are you over there? In the bedroom? Aren’t you going to sleep on the couch?” Had he never heard of the concept of chivalry?

This time, Hyunjin did turn his head to look at you. He was squinting. “Why should I get the couch?”

“Because in books or in movies, dudes always offer to take the couch and they let the girl sleep in the bed!”

Hyunjin burst into laughter. “Oh my god, what’s next? Do I also need to put my jacket on your shoulders? Do I need to carry an umbrella for you?”

What an insufferable asshole. “Fuck you, Hwang. You know what? I’ll sleep on the couch because I’m not a spoiled brat like you.”

“That has got to be the dumbest fucking thing I ever heard. Honest.”

“Then you must not have heard yourself speak very often.”

“Oh my god, just shut up.” With that, you left him by the door frame of his bedroom and went to the couch to take a few things out of your suitcase.

At least, the couch was excessively comfortable, and you also found a couple of clean blankets in a closet. You managed to find the cocktail dress you intended to wear for dinner as well as your accessories and shoes. While you were getting everything ready, Hyunjin went towards the bathroom.

At the last second, he dramatically slapped his forehead and swirled to face you. “Shit! I forgot! I was going to wash up, but maybe it’s required by law that I let you get the first shower since you’re a girl. Tell me—law school was forever ago—should I also lie on the tile so that you can use me as a shower mat? Are dudes required to do that?”

You very seriously considered throwing him the shoe that you were holding. “You’d like that too fucking much, Hwang.”

He disappeared into the bathroom with a heartfelt laugh. You chuckled as well—at least, sometimes, his banter could be funny, no matter how annoying he was.

The restaurant was nice—it was actually a fancy cocktail bar right by the boardwalk, and it had a nice view of the sea, too. You made it in time for dinner, and met with Changbin’s friends—Chris and Jisung.

Chris had a warm, dimpled smile and kind eyes. He laughed easily and made you comfortable immediately. Jisung was a little more introverted, but just as kind, and eager to know everything about your current case. Still, you ordered some drinks and appetizers to get to know each other. “Let’s drink and eat a lot, it’s all on Changbin’s card!” Chris pointed out, which caused the rest of you to laugh a little too much, but you and Hyunjin especially. Chris wasn’t wrong—maybe this would be your way to get back at your boss somehow.

You focused on the case two drinks in. It was a business meeting but it unfolded more like a friendly discussion. Chris and Jisung were both knowledgeable on cases such as yours and they actually recounted many of them to you and Hyunjin. You took as many notes as you could on your phone and noticed that Hyunjin did the same. A pleasant surprise—you had imagined he was the kind of guy to be chatty but to get very little work done. However, he asked good questions and was even polite.

Maybe the drinks were doing him some good. He was certainly loosening up a little, as though his usual self was only a facade, or something exaggerated. That didn’t necessarily surprise you—maybe he was a little bit of a hypocrite, acting all cool and pretentious at work, but being just a regular guy in his personal life. Maybe he felt like he needed to have a strong personality to match his good looks.

You immediately connected with Chris, perhaps because he was sitting closest to you and had ordered the same meal as you. Damn, I have no choice but to order the same thing now, or else I’ll be wanting to eat off your plate!

You took a lot of notes while waiting for the food, drinking another gin and lemonade. Jisung and Hyunjin were talking about their respective schools—despite not studying at the same university, they had had a professor in common and he was known to be just about the worst. Their anecdotes were funny and made you grateful that you had gone to the school you did.

Eventually, though, Chris slid his chair a little closer to you to strike up a conversation while the other two were reminiscing. He told you about his most successful case in another conflict of interest situation, except this time it had been about somebody being given personal information they perhaps shouldn’t have due to their bias. It was in a medical context too, which made everything even more interesting since you had briefly considered going into medical law.

“I can’t believe you won that one,” you admitted, impressed. You leaned back into your chair, raising your glass at Chris respectfully and taking a sip from it. “Good work.”

Chris was a humble guy. He made a dismissive motion of his hand. “It was an interesting case, that’s all—I don’t want you to think I told you all about it to brag! Soon enough, it’ll be you guys retelling the story of your case and how you won it because you found just the perfect angle.”

Without saying a word, you and Hyunjin looked at each other over the table. Yeah, the perfect angle…

Jisung, however, didn’t skip a beat. “So how do you guys intend on approaching this anyway? What’s the plan?” He took a bite from his lemon chicken, looking at you, then Hyunjin, then you again.

You took a sip from your drink, then another. For the first time since you had met him, Hyunjin seemed to have nothing to say, despite both Chris and Jisung waiting eagerly for more details.

You cleared your throat. “We, huh, disagree on the best course of action,” you admitted, and maybe you would have worded that differently if you were sober, but you were not sober. “Hwang thinks there is no conflict of interest, that there’s not even a case to be had. I, on the contrary, believe we shouldn’t shy away from it. If Kang appreciated the business over at Seon’s, he did, and that is all—who knows what proof of that the opposition has? I just think it’s too risky to pretend there’s nothing there. I’d rather go for the it was all in good faith angle.”

It was Chris and Jisung’s turn to exchange a quiet glance, but not for long—both of them laughed softly, shaking their heads and drinking more to wash down the food as they laughed.

Hyunjin frowned, and you saw the arrogant prick in him make a grand return. “What’s so funny about it?”

Chris, seeing that Hyunjin was upset, dipped his head politely, but his smile was just as wide as it had been. “Oh, no, no, it’s not like that, sorry!” he apologized with a wink for you. “It’s just that you guys are just like us.”

“We disagree all the time,” Jisung confirmed with a stern nod. “It’s frustrating as hell at first, but that means Changbin was right to put you two together on the same case. He’ll probably do it more in the future, too. Disagreements like these lead to better results—you’re unlikely to miss details if you keep working like that. It’s good.”

“It’s very good,” Chris added. “Unless the parties are too proud—then that makes things complicated… but you guys seem good, yeah?”

It took every single atom of your being not to scoff derisively at Chris’ comment. Instead, you made yourself breathe and drink some more. You noticed from the corner of your eye that Hyunjin was doing the same thing.

“I think they just want to have our opinion on it,” Jisung pointed out, elbowing Chris playfully.

Chris nodded slowly, his smile turning softer, almost endeared, as he stared at the both of you. When his gaze fell on you, it lingered on your face but quickly trailed down to your mouth and then below your neck. You tensed up—it was impossible not to notice that he was checking you out—and blushed violently, but tried to conceal it by hiding your face behind your glass as you drank more and more. Chris was an excessively charming guy, funny, handsome, very intelligent. He talked a lot but he was also a good listener.

You couldn’t deny that it flattered you that he was checking you out.

“You guys are about to be disappointed,” Chris admitted with a chuckle. “Because—and I’m certain of it—Jisung would probably agree with Hyunjin. And me, I would agree with our lovely lady here. So I’m afraid we are not of much help.”

Lovely lady. The red on your face turned crimson, and now your glass was empty so there was no concealing it. Chris dragged his tongue on his bottom lip, eyeing you carefully.

“But you would have to agree though,” Hyunjin insisted, leaning over the table almost as though he wanted to grab Chris’ whole attention. “Like, at some point, you’d have to decide on something, right?”

“We would, but it would take several hours of discussion and case study,” Jisung explained. “We’d have endless debates on it, and, after some time—a week, two weeks, a month even—one of us would admit that the other is right and that we have the better chance to win this case with this or that angle. But no stone would have been left unturned in the process of getting there, ensuring the better outcome.”

“Those cases take time,” Chris said. “It’s still too early to come to an agreement, but we’ll keep in touch.” He turned to you, pulling a business card from the inner pocket of his thin blazer, along with a pen. On the underside of the card, he quickly scribbled another number. “That’s my personal phone. Feel free to call or text at any time,” he added, handing you the card. He put it in your hand, his fingers gently caressing yours, sending shivers down your spine.

For a minute, you imagined flirting back, you imagined finishing up dinner and going to the bar section to have a nice, intimate time with Chris. You’d ask him about his personal life and him about yours. Both of you single and too busy with work to really cultivate any sort of relationship. He’d make a point to touch you, a brush of the arm, maybe going as far as pushing your hair behind your ear. He might kiss you even, and you’d kiss him back, and invite him back to your hotel room. Except that your hotel room was the honeymoon suite which you shared with Mr. Asshole. Maybe Chris would ask you to come to his place, but he had mentioned he lived on the other side of the city, and you had an early train tomorrow morning…

You sighed, swallowing your short-lived fantasy of a steamy, passionate one-night stand with the handsome attorney. Instead, you made yourself smile, sliding the card in your purse. It felt strange not to, so you handed him one of your business cards in exchange for his. “Thank you so much, Chris. And—you guys have helped more than you think. It’s reassuring to know that divergence of opinions can actually be helpful. I think I’ll go back to the hotel—we’re leaving early tomorrow and there’s a lot of work to be done.”

Chris stared at your lips for a few seconds. “Sure thing. You call me if you need anything, yeah?” He offered you one of those bright warm smiles. “It was a pleasure meeting you. Maybe we’ll work on a case together someday!”

You also said your goodbyes to Jisung who eagerly shook your hand, and then you walked away. Hyunjin could spend the entire night with them for all you cared, but all of a sudden, the realization that a fun night with Chris wouldn’t be possible had been too disappointing, and you didn’t want any of these guys to see it on you.

If she were here, your best friend would tell you that you had just self-sabotaged yourself, that there would have been nothing wrong with spending a little more time alone with Chris. She would remind you that you were a lonely, overworked woman and that you needed to get your shit together or else you would never find a partner. Not if you don’t let anyone in, she had told you some time ago. And maybe she was right—you did agree with her on that, but you didn’t want to think about this part of your life. Not now, not while you were just starting to work on your most important case so far in your short career as an attorney.

The night was cooler than it had been earlier and you found yourself wishing that you had brought a jacket with you. Instead, you walked faster, hoping to catch the pedestrian signal before it turned off at the intersection—unfortunately, you didn’t make it in time and had to wait by the road leading you to your hotel.

“Hey, hold up!”

You let out a disgruntled sigh when you heard Hyunjin’s voice behind. Part of you had hoped that he would have stayed with the other guys for quite a while, leaving you some privacy.

When the pedestrian signal came on again, you didn’t wait—you simply began crossing the street. Hyunjin caught up with you easily. “Damn, you really are in a hurry,” he pointed out, walking beside you. You hugged your arms, seeking some warmth, keeping your gaze on the hotel ahead of you. “You okay there?”

You swallowed. “I’m fine.” Then, imagining it was obvious that something was troubling you, you decided to add, “It’s just a little cool, that’s all.”

Hyunjin did not hesitate. “Ah, that’s right. You’re a girl, I’m a boy and there are laws about that sort of thing. Hold on.” Before you knew it, Hyunjin had removed his blazer and carefully placed it on your shoulders. It warmed you up immediately—the fabric was warm from him, who seemed to keep a high body temperature most of the time. It also smelled nice, and you realized you had never paid much attention to Hyunjin’s smell before. “There, ma’am. I am at your service. What else might I do for you?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, annoyed with his arrogant, sarcastic tone. You took the blazer off and handed it back to him. He held it over his shoulder with two fingers, exactly the way the male love interest would in a K-drama. You figured that Hyunjin must actually believe he was the main character in everyone’s life.

Hyunjin let one second pass, not more. “He really was shooting his shot, wasn’t he? Chris, I mean.”

You shrugged as you made it to the sidewalk on the other side of the road. “Why do you care?”

It was Hyunjin’s turn to sigh. “Well, it wasn’t very professional of him to hit on you during a business meeting.”

You pressed your lips together, repressing a smile. “You’re just jealous because he agreed with my angle.”

“Jisung agreed with mine.”

“But Chris is the senior.”

“Doesn’t mean shit to me,” Hyunjin retorted, now walking faster than you, as though he was racing you to the hotel. “Age is just a number.”

Despite his rapid walking, you caught up with Hyunjin in the hotel lobby as he stood by the elevators. Neither of you said a word as you waited. Your mind was fuzzy from the drinks, from the food, from the scent of Chris’ cologne lingering in your nose… no, that was Hyunjin’s. It was just the two of you in the elevator, and it was strong, smokey, and vaguely floral with sweet and amber undertones. It stuck to your skin, to your dress, all that from the two seconds it had been on your body. Breathing deeply didn’t help you at this moment, so you waited until you were back in the hallway to do so. It eased some of your tension, but it certainly didn’t make you any less tipsy than you were.

The room was just as you had left it. You quickly got out of your heels, relieving your feet, but were overcome with the need to wash up—would that scent follow you even after? Perhaps it wouldn’t, not if Hyunjin also washed up.

You didn’t ask for permission and simply locked yourself in the bathroom. You tied your hair into a bun and got under the fancy shower, letting the warm water wash your worries away and, with them, Hyunjin’s scent. You felt a little better after despite being rather troubled still, and dried yourself before getting into more comfortable clothes—shorts and a tank top. Of course, you hadn’t planned on having to share the room with Hyunjin, but if he was indisposed by your outfit in any sort of way, he was welcome to look somewhere else.

You found him sitting at the table with his laptop. He didn’t even glance at you but left for the bathroom when you sat with your own computer to clean up the notes you had taken over dinner. There were a lot of them and they were all messy, so it was best to do this right now before you forgot too much about your evening.

You heard a text notification from your device while you were typing on your laptop but ignored it. Either it was Chris and that would disappoint you even further after your ruined night, or it was Changbin checking up on you to verify the potency of his prank, and despite him being your boss, you wouldn’t be able not to be rude. So you did not look at your notifications—to save yourself the trouble.

Hyunjin, much like you, had showered the evening away. He returned to the table in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. “I like to go to bed feeling clean,” he even told you, and you nodded in agreement while going over your notes. “Aren’t you cold though? There are robes in the bedroom if you’d like.”

You didn’t feel like hearing his relentless nagging. “I was only cold outside. I’m fine.”

“We could fire up the hot tub,” he added. His tone was lighthearted and he was typing as he said it, so you knew he didn’t mean it and you just let it go.

The next few minutes were quiet, only punctuated by the sounds of typing and the occasional sigh from either of you. You found that working alongside Hyunjin was not so awful when he didn’t talk. You also noticed his leather-bound notebook by his laptop—every page was filled with paragraphs of his tiny handwriting. It also contained several doodles, or rather, sketches. They weren’t bad at all. Flowers, a chair… you recognized the coffee machine on the second floor from the office. The back of a woman’s head and her shoulders… so he did use the notebook after all. Why only use it in private? You almost wanted to ask him, but figured it was none of your business anyway. All that you’d get would be a sarcastic, witty, and unpleasant response.

Sometimes, he would hum the melody of a song heard on the radio earlier at the restaurant, and his voice was pleasant, albeit a little distracting—you had just made a major breakthrough in your notetaking and were frantically typing before you could forget everything.

Maybe Changbin had been right after all—well, not about the honeymoon suite—but about having them come here to meet Chris and Jisung. Maybe your and Hyunjin’s angles could be combined, maybe the true defense wasn’t so much in Kang’s motivations but in the actual wording of your debate and the logic behind it. It would require a lot more coaching of your witnesses to make sure they didn’t use the wrong words and tone during their testimony, but it could be done.

“Hey, I—” you started, but as if on cue, Hyunjin was already pushing himself up and heading toward the mini fridge in the room. You watched as he opened it, stared at its contents for a few instants, and grabbed a handful of those miniature liquor bottles before returning to his laptop. “You gonna work drunk?”

He shrugged. “I’m already almost drunk.” He didn’t look too pleased, as though whatever he was looking at on his screen caused him some serious irritation. “It’s just a big case and I’m tired. And before you come for me, I know that liquor won’t help me be less tired or more focused, but it’s just what I want right now.” With this, he slid a couple of bottles toward you and opened one for himself.

You twisted one Hennessy and drank a large gulp from it. It was crisp and cold and strangely refreshing. You took a second sip, savoring this one while you stared at Hyunjin at the other side of the table. He had never admitted to you that this case was difficult. In fact, he had never admitted that anything in his life ever caused him any kind of issues. You figured that his tipsy state must make him more inclined to say the truth.

“Want to look at my notes?” you suggested, and it was an honest offer.

He didn’t even look at you, slamming one empty whiskey on the table while scrolling on his laptop. “Don’t need to.”

You repressed a chuckle, although there was nothing humorous about the situation—after all, if Hyunjin struggled, it meant you would struggle at some point too. No matter how annoying he was, he was still assigned to the same case as you. “I think I found an angle, though.”

Hyunjin looked at you over his computer while he unscrewed another bottle. “What kinda angle?”

“Exactly the kinda angle that would be a compromise between your idea and mine.”

You studied him while he tasted some spiced rum, his deep gaze, his traits so handsome that he didn’t look real. Perhaps this was why he had annoyed you from the very beginning. Literally, since you two had been hired on the same day. Because he looked too good to be real. Nobody should look like that, it was frustrating. No, infuriating. Those lips, too, and the way he wrapped them around the bottle to drink…

God, I need to get my shit together. You straightened up into your chair, finishing your Hennessy in one last swig. “You think Changbin will pay for that?” you questioned with a frown. “I doubt that the hotel minibar was part of the deal…”

At this, though, Hyunjin did chuckle, almost choking on his bourbon. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “He better fucking pay up, I’ll tell you this. I’d love to see Seo Changbin—or even Lee Minho—try and charge me for it.” He burst into full-on laughter, and although you could recognize that it was a bit of a nervous chortle, you laughed with him.

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s not like they could fire you or anything. Since you’re like, besties with Minho.”

Hyunjin let his laugh die down and stared at you intently with just the hint of a squint. He drank bourbon and licked his lips dry. He scoffed for himself only.

“What’s so funny?” you inquired, keeping the empty bottle in your hand just in case you needed to throw it at him. And you would. You really would if he gave you a reason to.

“Nothing. I’m just trying to decide if you’re drunk or jealous.”

You grunted, wrapping your fingers a little more tightly around the bottle. If it weren’t for Hyunjin’s phone that rang, he would have gotten that empty Hennessy launched straight on that pretty face of his.

It was a text message, which he read and put his phone back on the table with the screen down. For some reason that annoyed you to no end.

It might have been the Hennessy, it might have been the gin at the restaurant, or the fact that he looked annoyingly good and nonchalant, sprawled on his chair, with his long ass legs in these stupid fucking gray sweatpants—in any case, you couldn’t not say something. You didn’t even try to stay calm either. “Who the fuck is texting you at this hour of the night anyway? Is one of your several booty calls missing you or something?”

Hyunjin slammed the empty bourbon on the table just a centimeter next to the empty whiskey. He stood, and for a moment you thought he was just leaving for his bed, but instead he took a step toward you, resting his elbows on the table. He was close enough that you could smell the hotel’s fancy body wash on him and the liquor on his breath. “And that’s how I became a successful attorney? Because I have all this extra time to fuck as many girls as I want? You know what, I think you actually are jealous.” He leaned forward, a smirk painting itself on his full lips. “Do you think I have two, three girls on my cock every night, baby? Is that it? You want some of th—”

In your whole life, you had rarely experienced such whiplash as you did at that moment. You sprung to your feet, enraged. “BABY?” You let out a growl, pushing two fingers into his chest when he dared come any closer to you.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes with a click of his tongue. “Relax. Ma’am. The text was just Chris saying he’ll swing by tomorrow morning to talk about the case again… but he also asked why you ignored his text. I think the Aussie misses you already. You should call him, maybe he’s jerking off thinking about you as we speak.”

“You’re fucking classless, Hwang.” You nudged him away, but he barely moved. He just stared at you. And at your tits. “My eyes are up here, by the way.” You had to be drunk because there was no way you would be this bold if you weren’t. “I think you’re the jealous one here. Are you all pissy because he wants the same toy as you? Spoiled prick.”

Hyunjin towered over you, his boozy breath caressing your face softly. “You call me a spoiled prick, but you’re the one acting all weird.”

“All weird? The fuck? You’re the weird one, talking about girls on your cock and shit. As if I cared about that? Or is that how you flirt with girls? You quite literally have the biggest ego I’ve ever fucking seen.”

This seemed to strike a chord. Hyunjin’s body language switched from annoyed to straight-up pissed off. He suddenly grabbed his crotch—really grabbed it, too—and spoke louder than you had ever heard him do. “Oh, you wanna see something big, baby?”

You slapped him. In the face. You weren’t able to control it—in fact, it felt as though you were witnessing something that you were not a part of, and yet you felt it, his skin underneath your hand. You had never seen him reach this level of cockiness before, and Hyunjin seemed to be able to bring out a very specific type of rage within you. Who did he think he was?

And yet it shocked you just as much as it shocked him—you gasped loudly, retreating your hand immediately. Hyunjin frowned, reaching for his cheek where his skin was turning pink. He stared at you, dumbfounded, the silence in the room heavier than his gaze. You stared at him too. Back and forth, eyes dancing over the other. His lips. Your lips. Below your neck. His raw cheek. Below your neck again. His lips. Your lips.

Hyunjin cocked his head to the side, his eyes unfocused, leaning rapidly closer to you. For a second, you thought he was about to retaliate, but something else entirely happened.

He put his large hands on your arms and pinned you to the wall to kiss you hard. It took your brain a second or two to process that—your back on the wall, the impact of it. The impact of his mouth on yours, devouring you, his lips warm and wet and eager. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. His mouth tasted a lot like liquor and maybe a little like regret, but he was fucking yours with his tongue and it made you moan.

He pulled away for a second and you could breathe again, your head falling back, exposing your neck to him. He buried his face there and you ran your fingers through his hair. It was silky, soft, it felt good to touch but not better than his mouth leaving scorching kisses all over your neck and exposed shoulders, nibbling at you, sucking your skin. That fucking mouth of his. Sassy, arrogant. Pretty. Leaving bite marks and hickeys all over you.

Hyunjin grunted when you tried to pull him back up for more kisses. “Let me,” he protested, leaving a trail of spit on your throat. “I want Chris to see you like that tomorrow. Marked. Claimed.”

“You really are a prick,” you retorted, but you let go of his hair to slide your hands underneath Hyunjin’s shirt. His skin was hot to the touch. You pulled him closer, feeling him underneath your fingertips. His toned abdomen, his strong body. “I fucking hate you.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing personal,” Hyunjin said, still busy down your neck. He pushed you flush to the wall, leaving no space between your body and his, cupping your breasts in his big hands while his lips played with the skin on your throat. “I hate you just as much, but you look fuckable as hell. Just look at those tits.”

You bit your lip, repressing a whimper. Already, warmth was pooling at your core and you felt less and less strength in your legs. You held onto him, resting your forehead on his collarbone. Hyunjin pulled your tank top down, exposing you to him, allowing him to kiss you there too. He played with your nipples, swirling his tongue around them, lapping at them, sucking onto them, leaving them swollen and flushed.

You found the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged at it, causing Hyunjin to moan while he squeezed your breasts, his hands too big for them almost, but agile nonetheless. In no time, you shoved your hand in his pants, cupping him—he was hard already, his cock straining against the fabric of his underwear. Your knees almost gave out as you palmed him, really taking in the feeling of him. His cock was big. Big enough to make your pussy throb.

Hyunjin pressed his lips on yours again, groaning into your mouth while you were rubbing him over his boxers. Feeling him grinding onto your palm sent electricity throughout your entire body and it settled between your legs, becoming a distracting pressure.

“You’re liking this huh? Baby?” Hyunjin smirked, rolling his hips, fucking himself onto your hand. “Can I call you baby? Or are you going to slap me again?”

You took his mouth, kissing him, squeezing his cock just a little too hard. Hyunjin bucked his hips, laying a hand flat on the wall behind you, his face flushed. For the first time ever, his hair was disheveled. It looked good on him, though. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t fucking like it,” you warned in between kisses. “Or I’ll just do it again and you’ll blow in my hand, right here, right now.” You weakly—and playfully—smacked his cheek.

Hyunjin inhaled you, your hair, your neck. You smelled him too, pleased to realize that despite his shower, the scent of his cologne lingered faintly on his skin. “Fuck you. I’d bet you’re soaked right now.”

“And what do you want to bet, handsome?”

You knew very well that he was right—you could feel yourself oozing into your shorts, you just wanted to see what he had in mind.

Hyunjin thought about it for a few seconds while playing with your tits, making them bounce in his hands or flicking at your nipples gently. Each caress, each touch, made you dizzier than the last. You could feel the warmth emanating from your body, and you wondered if he could feel it, too.

“If I touch your pussy right now and you’re wet, you let me cum inside you,” Hyunjin offered after considering his options. “Because then it just means I was right all along—you’re a fucking slut, no matter how hard you try to pass as a righteous bitch.”

You let go of his cock but not without another strong squeeze, causing him to hiss almost painfully. “Do your thing, Hwang.”

He snickered at you, wasting no time pushing your shorts to the side to feel you. His fingers found your soaked folds. He rubbed you, caressing you, coating his fingers with your slick. “Fucking hell…” he breathed. “No panties? You’re soaking into your shorts just like that? So I was right. You’re just a whore. You play hard to get but you leave the scent of your pussy everywhere you fucking go, don’t you?”

Hard to get? “Fuck you, Hwang.” But he kissed you again, pulling you with him toward the bedroom. You took his t-shirt off him and he did the same with your shorts.

The back of his knees hit the mattress and you both collapsed onto the bed with you on top of him, not breaking the kiss once while you tried to tug his sweatpants off him. You’d show him. You’d show that prick how hard to get you were.

You finally got rid of his pants, freeing his erection. He had left the bedside lamps on, allowing you to see his beautiful, smooth cock, as pretty as the rest of him. It was heavy, too, and big. You wrapped your hand around it while you climbed onto Hyunjin proper, resting your knees on either side of him.

“Told you it was big,” Hyunjin teased. “Can you even take it?”

Your hand traveled down his shaft, his base, finding his tight, straining balls. You fondled them while Hyunjin caressed your bare thighs with his large hands, his thumbs always stopping closer and closer to your pussy. You tilted your head. “Maybe you should chill with the nagging. I’m literally holding you by the balls.”

He shrugged. “Just raising concern for my colleague’s wellbeing.” He lifted his chin toward you. “Look at that pussy. So pretty and tight. I’ll fucking ravage you.”

Hyunjin used his knee to part your legs open, allowing him to see your glistening folds. He hissed, cupping you, rubbing your pussy with his palm, and pulling you in for another kiss. He was a good kisser. His mouth felt good so you relished just a little longer in the feeling of his languid kisses and his hand between your legs, teasing your clit and your hole.

You lowered your body, properly straddling him now, both your hands on his perfectly defined abdomen, his cock resting against your throbbing pussy. Carefully, you took him in your hand again, loving the feeling of it there, too, and curious to see how it would feel inside you. You propped yourself up, wasting no time guiding Hyunjin’s cock toward your entrance.

He was handsome, especially in that moment, as you pushed his tip into you. You gasped and whimpered and moaned as you sank down onto his cock, adjusting to his size. “Oh fuck…” Hyunjin’s hands traveled all over your body—your waist, your thighs, your tits, still spilling out of your tank top. “Fuck—”

He was bigger than your favorite dildo. Your breath hitching up, you kept sinking further down to take more and more of him, the stretch delightful. “Are you taking your time on purpose?” he sighed, sweat pearling on his forehead. “Fuck this, I’ll do it myself.” He slid his hands from your breasts to your hips, pushing you down, forcing you onto his cock. “Aaaahhh fuck, don’t clench so much—”

You both came to a stop when he bottomed out. You bit into your lower lip, pleasure taking over you just from the way his cock filled you. You adjusted your weight on him, placing your hands on his torso to keep your balance, and slowly rolled your hips.

It set you on fire. And him, too. You retreated a little, clenching involuntarily around his cock, and slammed onto him again, causing both of you to cry out. Again.

And again. You quickened up your pace, your movements made easier by how wet you were. Hyunjin grunted every time you rolled your hips, staring at the way his cock disappeared into you. “Fucking hell…” he managed, landing a gentle smack on your ass, not hard enough to sting. “You’re creaming me up real good.”

You leaned down to kiss him, his throat, his pretty collarbones. What a fucking jerk. You filled the room with your moans as you fucked yourself onto him, using him the same way you would use an inanimate toy, taking as much of his cock as you could, your pace relentless. You bit him the same way he had done to you earlier, tugging at his hair to expose his throat for you. “See how I take it?” you panted, rutting on him as though you were in heat, seeking more and more of this. You had never been filled like this before—every second was pure bliss. “See how I take that big cock of yours, Hwang?”

He looked unreal under you, your fist in his hair, hickeys all over his throat, his perfect body covered in sweat. He smirked at your remark and before you knew it, his hand found your face. He cupped it by your chin, pulling you closer until he was looking at you in the eyes. You were no longer in control. His slender fingers dug into your cheeks, but your brain did not register that sensation as painful. You clenched so hard around him that he growled.

“You really take me like a cock-hungry slut.” He released your face only so that he could hold your waist and fuck you from below, pushing himself deeper and deeper. “Isn’t that what you are, huh? Don’t you love the way I stretch your tight cunt? I didn’t know you were so horny…”

Hyunjin chuckled as he wrapped his arms around your body to roll you under him. You cried out when his large cock slipped out of your hole, humping into nothing. That cock was pure heroin. Addictive enough that you needed it. Again.

But he wouldn’t hear you beg, no. You’d rather die than beg Hwang Hyunjin.

“Look at you…” He was kneeling in between your legs, keeping them open for him. He reached for your pussy, caressing you very softly. “You’re all stretched, all puffy down there, baby… What a sight.”

You rolled your hips to rub yourself against his hand, chasing your high. You could feel it—a pressure, a storm swirling deep within your core, your pussy throbbing for it.

“Tut-tut, hold on. I said I was going to ravage you, but I want to play a little.” He grabbed one of the pillows and slid it underneath your lower back.

It took no time for the caresses on your cunt to start again, more insistent this time. He teased your hole with his skilled fingers, pushing two inside. The wet sound it made was lewd enough to make you clench hard on his digits.

He laughed. “Cute.” He moved his fingers inside you, massaging your walls very precisely. He knew what he was doing—soon enough, he twisted his wrist and curled his fingers to hit that one spot. The pressure rose within you and you could feel your pulse in your cunt. “Now, listen—in a little while you’re gonna feel like you have to pee. Don’t panic. Just relax,” Hyunjin said, his voice low and calm, but all that you could do was lie there and stare at him, his hard, leaking cock, flushed dark. His panting chest, his hair sticking to his face.

Hyunjin began finger-fucking you like a madman, pumping his fingers in and out of you, using his other hand to rub circles on your clit. Skin heating up, you held onto the sheets, to his arm, to yourself, but you were losing control. Every time Hyunjin pushed his fingers—now three—inside you, he hit the spot he needed to hit. Every. Single. Time.

“HYUNJIN!” You felt it. The pressure, rising fast, too fast.

Instead of pushing his fingers in and out of you now, Hyunjin pressed them on your g-spot, focusing there only, massaging you frantically. “Give it to me. Fucking give it to me, show me how much of a whore you are. Make a mess for me. I’ll give you my cock after. Come on, give it to me.”

You tried to keep your eyes open but your eyelids fluttered too hard, and it felt as though your soul was ascending away from your body. The finger-fucking, the relentless rubbing on your clit, the lewd squelching sounds, Hyunjin’s smooth voice…

You broke.

You felt it take over you. That storm, that heat. You arched into him and suddenly everything was very wet and the pressure was relieved immediately. You cried out, melting into the bed as you came, your walls fluttering, your mind blank. There was nothing except the waves of pleasure between your legs. Wet, warm. Hyunjin played with you until your breathing had returned almost to normal.

When you opened your eyes again, you found your thighs covered in your arousal. Hyunjin pulled his fingers out of your still-sensitive hole, bringing them to his lips to lick them clean.

“Did I—”

Hyunjin leaned over you to kiss you and you tasted yourself in his mouth. “You squirted like the pretty little slut you are, all over me, too,” he told you in between kisses. “Let’s see how you take my cock now that you’re fucked out.”

In just two seconds, you found yourself laying on your stomach, your ass propped up by the pillow on which your hips rested. Hyunjin pushed your legs open, rubbing his cock all over your soaked cunt. You whined into the mattress, using the last of your strength to look behind you. “Are you afraid to blow too fast or what? You know, some women consider premature ejaculation as a complim—”

You couldn’t finish your sentence—with a grunt, Hyunjin pushed his hard cock inside you, slamming into you, bottoming out in one thrust. You let out a cry, quivering under him. “Take me. That’s it. God, you’re so fucking wet…” Buried into you, Hyunjin fondled your tits, fucking you slowly at first, almost like he was getting used to it. “Like this? This is good?”

“Yes, yes, don’t stop. Don’t stop!” He was too slow. He was stretching your pussy and you loved it. “Fuck me, come on!”

You felt Hyunjin’s sweaty chest pressing itself onto your back as he forced his cock deeper within you. “Do you remember our little bet earlier?” he asked, whispering into your ear. “I’ll fill you real good. I’ll fill you so much that the other dude—the Australian—he’s gonna smell my cum on you tomorrow morning.”

It spilled from your lips before you could stop it. “Please,” you breathed, trapped in between the mattress and Hyunjin’s body. His weight on you was heavenly. “Just fuck me. Just fuck me, Hwang.”

And he fucked you.

He pounded into you, rolling his hips skillfully, taking up all the space within you. “That’s it, baby. You’re being such a good cocksleeve for me. Didn’t think you could take me like that. Suck on these for me, show me how you use that mouth.” He shoved a couple of his fingers into your mouth and you closed your lips around them. They tasted like sex, like your pussy. You moaned as you sucked off his digits, wishing he would let you do the same with his cock.

“Maybe once I get that office, you’ll have to come visit me there. Maybe I’ll make you kneel under my desk and I’ll fuck your throat just like I’m fucking you right now. Let those other guys smell my cock on your breath the rest of the day. You’d like that, huh?” He slammed into you again and again, frantically, desperately. “GOD, you are tight, don’t clench, don’t clench—”

But you couldn’t help it. You could feel the pressure rising again, overstimulated from all of it, from Hyunjin pumping his cock so hard inside you that you were certain he would bruise you. From the sound of his voice tickling your ear, his hot breath on your skin, your sweaty bodies entangled together, the wet noises of your flesh colliding.

Hyunjin fucked you into a sloppy, loud mess. You let out a series of staccato moans as he chased his high—he was so close that you could feel him twitch inside you—grabbing onto the sheets as though you could fall down the bed. “Oh god, that’s it—” he rasped, pulling his fingers from between your mouth to hold your waist, keeping you in place for him. “Take me, take me like that, take my cum—take all of it—” The rest of his sentence became inaudible as he lost himself in his bliss, burying his face into your hair.

His fucking became erratic, deeper, too, and you could feel yourself closer and closer to the edge. He was fucking you so hard that you were about to cum. “Don’t stop—don’t stop—don’t stop—” you panted, eyes rolling at the back of your head. You hated him for how easy it was for him to make you cum. Hated him for how fucking big his cock was, driving into you. You hated him for how good it felt, and how you loved the sensation of falling into a pit of lava, your entire body engulfed in wet heat.

You clenched around him, and it was over for Hyunjin. He snapped, arching into you, moaning and whimpering, hips stuttering as he sprayed his thick cum into you, pulsing around your snug heat. He fucked himself onto you, fucking his cum deeper inside you in powerful thrusts. “There’s so much cum baby, can you feel it?” he panted. “Such a sweet cunt you have. Cum for me again. Milk me, come on.”

But you were already cumming, dissolving into pleasure, into nothing, into the mattress. You came in a series of long, drawn-out moans, fluttering around his sensitive cock. He moaned with you, spilling the rest of his seed as you came, fucking you through your orgasm at a slow, languid pace, allowing you to really feel it. The waves of pleasure were strong, and they gently became ripples before they calmed down.

Neither of you moved for what might have been an hour. It took a while before Hyunjin managed to prop himself onto his hands and remove himself off you—a large amount of cum dripped out when he pulled his softening cock out of your swollen pussy. He lay next to you, staring at the ceiling.

“Bet you’ll still look fucked out tomorrow. I’m gonna text Chris and tell him to be here early,” Hyunjin said with a smile.

The whole room smelled like sweat, like sex and you liked it in a deranged way. “You’re very competitive,” you pointed out, still wildly out of breath. “I wasn’t gonna sleep with him, you know?”

“I don’t care.” Hyunjin rolled on his side to look at you. His eyes, much like yours, were sleepy but content. His pretty cock was glistening, coated in cum—both yours and his. “You know what? Keep the bed. You made a mess in it anyway, squirting all over it like the pretty whore you are.” He giggled, struggling to keep his eyes open. And he stayed right there in the bed with you, taking most of the space on it. What a prick.

You managed to roll off the supporting pillow underneath you, feeling the damp sheets on your skin. If you could still walk, you’d at least try to clean up a little, but you were far from that.

“Fuck you.”

“You just did that, baby.” He chuckled sleepily at his own joke, licking his lips. “Do we still hate each other by the way?”

You giggled too, drifting off to sleep, sore, content, and full of cum. “Jury’s still out on that one, Hwang.”

a/n: just a little something for the Red Light Chronicles! I had fun writing about my cunty attorney. You guys take care!

permanent taglist: @abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @b4kuho3 ; @binstitsweat ; @casualtaelyn ; @cb97percent ; @changbinheart ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; @djeniryuu ; @dwaekkiracha ; @erispancakes ; @fwess ; @hanjingin ; @hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ; @hyunfruits ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh ; @hyunsungbased ; @hyuwunjinie ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @imseungminsgf ; @inkybird ; @jollchacho ; @katsukis1wife ; @lilbabiebunni ; @leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @miraworldsstuff ; @moasworld ; @neosracha ; @revehosh ; @skzfelixlove ; @straydhampir ; @straykids5star ; @suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @thestarseeker ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

#hyunjin smut #skz smut #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x y/n #straykidsland #skz x you

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suhomylife · 6 months

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Ooooh lord! This is def different from what you usually wrote and what I read. In an any other given circumstance I’d not read that trope, but I could not deny reading YOUR story (even though I’ve tried, that’s why it took me so long)😅. Honestly I was a bit intimidated because I work in education and I am a bit older than Hyunjin, so it was scary af to read it haha.

This is a talent of yours to make even super horny and a bit of forbidden smut to be sooooooo beautiful, tender and hot at the same time, whereas usually one can only choose 2 of the 3. But it was great and I was really amazed by the boldness of the MC who decided to take an action and by how intimidated and horny Hyunjin was. That’s a mix that is not usually typical for your stories but that’s also what made it so intriguing to read!

Thanks a lot for sharing your works with us, dear Mari! Please look after your health and have an amazing rest of the December. May the universe be kind to us all at the end of the year! ❤️

teachers' lounge ⵌhyunjin ⵌone-shot ⵌ🔞

pairing: teacher!hyunjin x milf!reader | wordcount: 8.6k | genre: smut with plot | warnings: explicit sexual content - this work is for adult audiences ; age gap (ages not specified but hyunjin is younger than mc) ; mentions of divorce (reader) ; fantasizing ; mutual pining ; semi-public sex with a risk of being caught or heard. | Author compiles major/relevant warnings only. Reader discretion is advised. [ Rated: Mature ; Explicit ; Explicit+++ ]

Today was supposed to be the day Hyunjin asked you out.

Today was supposed to be the day Hyunjin asked you out. He had planned this day very carefully since you had confirmed your presence at the parent-teacher interview for the end of the semester. He had even bought a new blazer for the occasion—just a standard black blazer, but he thought it made him look professional and laid-back all at once. He wore it today over a simple shirt and paired everything with jeans. Nothing too fussy, but it was still better than his usual button-ups or long-sleeved shirts, and he wanted to make a good impression on you.

Not that it was the first time he saw you, so it wasn’t a first impression sort of thing. He just wanted to look nice. He took extra time to do a face mask that morning and put his cologne bottle in his messenger bag before leaving for school that morning so that he could spray some before the meeting.

He had noticed you immediately at the beginning of the school year. It was Hyunjin’s first year teaching First Grade and only his second year teaching at all—the year before, he had been teaching third graders. He had decided to take this class when there had been an opening, but he also had been a little nervous about it. After all, this was these children’s first year of real school, and it was important for him to do a good job with it.

He met you and your son on the first day of the school year, welcoming him into his classroom and showing him his desk. You were dropping your son to school and then heading to work, or so you told Hyunjin. You were wearing a classic business casual outfit—a black pencil skirt and a charcoal blouse that did not show enough cleavage to his taste. You shook his hand, flashing him a coy smile, and Hyunjin had thought about it all day, and about the pink on your cheeks.

He was not unaware of the effect he had on moms, but he was sort of immune to it. It came with the job and Hyunjin had every intention of keeping his job by remaining as professional as possible at all times.

But you were different. Your son was different, too. He would tell Hyunjin about your divorce sometimes, in a rather nonchalant way. He would say that he heard you cry one night and that he took care to put extra syrup on your waffles while you weren’t looking, because syrup made him happy so it would make you happy, too. During recess, he would often draw, on his own. He was a quiet kid, a good kid. He would often draw a huge house, with two halves. One day, he explained the concept to Hyunjin—he wanted to build a large house with, in the center of it, a wall separating it in two. You would live on one side and his father on the other, and he would be able to see both of you on the same day, like before.

This was when Hyunjin started talking with you more. Granted, he thought you were hot as hell, but he did it out of genuine concern for Ki-hyuk. He mostly used the school’s app to schedule phone calls with you or made a point to go meet with you when you picked your son up from school. He would always update you on your son’s progress and you often shared vital information from your life at home to make things easier for Hyunjin. You also found a therapist for your son, one that specialized in children of divorce. In just a few months, Ki-hyuk had turned into a proper extrovert, having no problem making new friends, and his grades were as high as they could be.

But it meant Hyunjin saw you less and less. No more checking you out. No more sights of your tits when you crouched to throw your son’s books into his backpack. He rarely had the pleasure of seeing you blush anymore, or to hear you laugh. He would still send you regular updates through the app, and you’d always respond so nicely. You’d say things like,

Thank you Hyunjin. Ki-hyuk had a good week, he enjoyed the book you read this morning. What is it? I’ll buy it for him. Have a good weekend! x

That x might as well have been a full-frontal picture of you naked for what it did to him. Hyunjin was ashamed of it, really. You were his student’s mother. He should not be fantasizing about you. He should not be thinking about your tits, or your ass. Or your pussy.

And yet.

He thought about you plenty when he finally went home, often cooking himself dinner with his cock painfully straining in his pants. On the worst nights—those after catching sight of you from the classroom window when you picked up your son—he would masturbate in the shower and then again in his bed, watching porn, edging himself for as long as he could. Hours, sometimes. He would watch video after video, most of them under the MILF category, as though that would purge him of this insane fantasy of his. This unethical fantasy of his.

He could watch all the porn in the world—it didn’t stop him from spraying his cum on his stomach at the thought of cumming inside your pussy, your heavy tits bouncing with how hard he was fucking you. Your voice moaning his name over and over, begging him to fill you. He thought about all of the ways he wanted to fuck you. He wanted to make you cum with his tongue. He wanted to pin you to a wall and fuck you there. He wanted you to fuck yourself onto his cock, he wanted you to use him, to make him your boy toy. Hyunjin wanted to make you forget that asshole ex-husband of yours.

He had it all planned out. He was going to wait until the parent-teacher interview and casually mention his favorite coffee shop before inviting you to have coffee with him, one day. Preferably that weekend, because he knew that it was your ex’s turn to have Ki-hyuk. Hyunjin knew it was wrong and he knew he could potentially lose his job for it, but that was assuming he had read your body language right and that you would accept to go out with him.

He would cross that bridge when he got there. If he did.

He sighed when he read your message the second time.

You:I’m SO sorry Hyunjin. I’m running late, the babysitter had transportation troubles and Ki-hyuk’s father is out of town for a business trip. I know it was supposed to be a strictly parent/teacher meeting but would you mind if I bring him with me? Or else I’ll be so very late.

He had it all planned out. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Not that he did not like your son—he would not admit that to anybody since he wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but Ki-hyuk was a bright kid and he appreciated him a lot. But Hyunjin feared that he wouldn’t have the balls to ask you out if your son was present. He knew he shouldn’t. But he knew he had to shoot his shot or else he would become insane. There were nights when he dreamt about you and woke up covered in sweat, humping his pillow, his balls tight and straining.

Realistically, Hyunjin knew he ought to tell you to just bring the kid with you. Many parents did anyway, and the child played or read a book at the back of the classroom while he spoke with the parent. But he had to shoot his shot. Why were you blushing like that whenever he spoke to you?

Hyunjin: Is your babysitter alright? I saw that a few bus lines had to be rerouted because of an accident. You can bring Ki-hyuk if you wish, but I’m in no hurry. I can wait. The school is open until 11:30 PM tonight.

Your response came immediately.

You: She’s fine, she just texted me that she’s almost here. I can make it to the school in about half an hour. Is that alright?

Hyunjin’s heart leaped in his chest. There was still hope. Would he wait, you asked? Yes. He would wait until tomorrow if it meant he could have some one-on-one time with you. Fuck—he’d never admit it to you but he’d wait for hours just to see you from across the track field…

Hyunjin: That’s totally fine, take your time. I’ll see you later!

You: Thank you so much! See you x

That x again. Hyunjin put his phone down, taking deep breaths while sitting at his desk in the empty classroom. He always found it strangely sad to be here outside of school hours. Something was lacking when the kids weren’t there, like he should be hearing the noises of paper ruffling, or pencils scribbling on sheets, or laughter.

A little voice at the back of his head found it telling that you had gone out of your way just so you wouldn’t have to bring Ki-hyuk here tonight. He was a well-behaved kid, and he knew you were an extraordinary mom. In fact, it was one of the things that he liked most about you. The way you always crouched so that your son could really see your face well, allowing him to read your emotions. The soft voice with which you spoke to him. You were the most involved parent in the class, and he could tell that you truly participated in your son’s education. Hyunjin couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to compensate for the divorce, as though you were afraid Ki-hyuk’s life would lack something if you weren’t giving your 100%. There was something sad about it, but all that he knew was that he loved to see you just being a mom. He loved seeing the little notes you’d leave in Ki-hyuk's lunchbox.

There was something so undeniably sexy about it all. About that strength you had, and how you didn’t let your hardships make you a bitter person. And your tits. And your ass. And your legs, and your smile, and—

He had to calm down before you got here. You had just spent all day at work, and while Hyunjin still had hope of asking you out—if his courage didn’t evaporate—he didn’t want to come off as too pervy either. Not that he wasn’t, no—the simple fact that every orgasm of his was dedicated to you since the beginning of the school year was very telling. And very desperate. He had practiced all this time, edging himself so that he could fuck you proper if you ever gave him the chance. Otherwise, he was certain he would blow the very moment you touched his cock. If you ever did.

He checked the time, realizing he hadn’t eaten dinner since he was waiting for you. Maybe putting some food in him would help calm his delusions. Hyunjin pulled himself up and grabbed his wallet before exiting the classroom. For all he knew, you hadn’t had dinner either with the babysitter troubles…

There was a corner store just down the street and Hyunjin walked there, enjoying the evening breeze and letting it cool down his face and other vital parts of his body. At the shop, he bought food for himself but for you as well, hoping that you liked what he picked, but getting multiple items just in case. He also bought sodas and four beers. The beers were supposed to be for himself this weekend, but he would offer you one. Hopefully, this would make the pink on your cheeks go a little darker than usual.

Hyunjin walked back towards the school, holding his bag carefully so that the contents didn’t spill all over the sidewalk. There were now four cars instead of three in the parking lot—his, the principal’s, the caretaker’s, and yours.

You both made it to the front door at the same time. You weren’t wearing your work clothes, but you had a black skirt with a jacket you hastily put on before coming here. Your hair was loose over your shoulders and he had never seen it like that. It was still a little damp, like you had showered just before coming here. Hyunjin froze for half a second, but you smiled at him and pushed one strand of hair behind your ear when you saw him.

“Thank you so much for waiting for me, I’m so sorry—” you started, dipping your head apologetically.

“Don’t, it’s totally fine.” Hyunjin opened the door for you, letting you go in first. As you walked past him, your scent caught him, stronger than usual, sweeter, too. Your shower gel? Body lotion? Shampoo? Something was there in addition to the complex notes of your perfume, and it went through his body like a lightning bolt. He cleared his throat, realizing that his voice was shaking a little too much for it to sound natural. “I just graded a few tests and did some long overdue paperwork…”

You let out a laugh that melted him entirely. Hyunjin followed you inside the school, hypnotized by your hair and the color of your lips. Normally, you wore discreet but lovely lipstick. However, your lips were bare tonight. No makeup, just you.

And you were more beautiful than ever.

You shook your head. “Fuck paperwork, am I right?” You put a hand over your mouth, surprised by your own transparency. “I’m sorry for cursing, just… long day at work.”

It was Hyunjin’s turn to chuckle. “Don’t worry at all. It’s not like there’s any of the kids left here.”

As though to prove his point, Hyunjin motioned toward the glass door separating the hallway from the administration wing. The principal could be seen standing by a desk that wasn’t his, probably doing paperwork that wasn’t his to do. But Principal Bahng was known to never let his assistants stay too long on the job—he preferred to do it himself, knowing that the employees had some sort of social life. Which he didn’t, and neither did Hyunjin. They often stayed late, both of them, and ended up going for a drink at a little bar two blocks from here.

Chan waved when he saw the two of you. Hyunjin waved back, and so did you, although a little shyly. “He works late too?” you questioned, following Hyunjin toward the staircase leading to his classroom.

“It’s always a little crazy at the end of the semester,” Hyunjin explained, glancing at you while you were climbing the stairs. He noticed that your cheeks were already flushed with that pretty rose color he liked so much. Could it be… Could it be Chan who had that effect on you? He was quite popular with the moms, that was a well-known fact. They even joked about it when they went for drinks after work hours. Hyunjin had no problem imagining that you cultivated at least a little bit of a crush on the handsome and hardworking principal of your son’s school…

So much for his luck. Today was supposed to be the day. He bought a goddamn blazer for it…

“It makes me feel a little better to know we all have a procrastinator inside of us,” you commented as the two of you walked in the quiet hallway.

“Rough day too, eh?”

You nodded, brushing your fingers through your hair again. “Changes in management,” you explained. “The new guy seems to think we weren’t doing a good job with our monthly reports, so we have to produce—again—reports for the past two years. With more detail.” The disdain was so evident in your voice that Hyunjin couldn’t help but empathize with you, and yet the situation was so stupid in his eyes that he burst into laughter.

“That’s absolutely ridiculous! Can’t he just read logs from the past twenty-four months?”

You laughed too, obviously exasperated but relieved to have someone to joke about it too. “Oh he could, but then he wouldn’t have established his reputation as the obnoxious tyrant of management. He’s just establishing his dominance.” You hesitated for a second, but not long. “I’ve had it with men who are too insecure to behave like normal human beings. I divorced one, for fuck’s sake!”

Hyunjin decided not to add anything to that so as not to upset you any further. Instead, he simply responded with an affirmative hum. You had made it back to the classroom, but Hyunjin didn’t pull the door open this time. Instead, he turned to you.

“Did you have dinner?” he asked a little too quickly, his heart beating so fast that he could feel it in his throat, “or did you rush here?”

“I had a cup of coffee for dinner,” you admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. You glanced at the bag he was holding. “What do you have there?”

“Dinner for two, if you’d like to join me.” Hyunjin could not help the grin that painted itself on his lips. “Beers, even.”

“Beers? See, you know how to treat a woman! I’d love to join you for dinner, Hyunjin seonsaengnim.” You gave him a little bow, exaggerating your movements, giggling the whole time. “Your girlfriend is very lucky, I’d say.”

It was meant to be funny, but Hyunjin could only pretend to laugh with you. As though it wasn’t enough that you used an honorific title on him, even jokingly. Something about you mentioning a girlfriend he didn’t have just tickled him in the right places. Obviously, you meant it as a compliment.

He exhaled deeply, focusing on anything but the fact that you were unzipping your jacket and removing the silky blue scarf from around your neck, baring your skin to him.

“Let’s go to the teachers’ lounge then,” he decided, motioning toward the end of the hallway. “At this hour, it’ll only be us anyway, and we’ll be more comfortable to eat.”

You gave him a nod, not even questioning whether it was allowed or not. If you had asked, he would have pretended it was fine, but it was in fact strictly forbidden. He did not care. At this hour, the caretaker would be waxing the gymnasium floors before leaving for the weekend. The only other living soul in the building was the principal and the administration staff had their own staff room.

You followed him and Hyunjin gave you a quick verbal tour while emptying the bag on his personal desk. The bathroom was on the left and there was a TV at the far end of the room, with a large couch that had been a donation a couple years ago from some association for teachers. He opened a beer for you while you fully removed your jacket and left it on the back of his chair.

Oh, god. You were wearing a dark blue button-up tucked into your skirt, and it hugged your tits so well that Hyunjin could actually see the outline of the lace through the fabric. While he saw that information with his eyes, it did not travel to his brain. Instead, it went directly into his cock as a familiar warmth spread to his crotch. He tried to distract himself by offering you the various food items he had bought.

In the end, you both decided to have a cup of noodles and cheese kimchi kimbap, but Hyunjin made sure to bring the other snacks onto the coffee table by the couch in case it turned out you were still hungry after the food. You helped him prepare the noodles by boiling the water while chatting.

Hyunjin caught you counting under your breath while he was bringing the instant noodles on the coffee table. He shot you an inquisitive glance when you reached for your purse to find your wallet.

“I don’t want you to pay me,” he said before you could even try. “It’s just noodles. In a cup.”

“And kimbap. And beer!” You were already handing him some money, but Hyunjin did not take it—he simply walked past you and sat on the couch, drinking some beer.

“I’m not taking money from you, sorry. Can we eat? I’m hungry.”

You sat with him, leaving the money on the coffee table. “And they say chivalry is dead…” You took a sip from your beer while Hyunjin was stirring his noodles. “I was right then. I wish I had your girlfriend’s luck…”

What went through Hyunjin at that moment was nothing short of a divine touch—it felt like pure ecstasy. You envied his girlfriend. A girlfriend he did not have, but you envied her. It meant that maybe you would not be opposed to being his girlfriend. The ecstasy also came from the delight Hyunjin knew he would experience when he would let you know that he was very much single. Single, available, eager. It did not matter to him that you were one of his students’ mom, or that he had graduated just a few years ago while you had a well-established position at your job. It did not matter what others would think.

If you asked him, Hyunjin would kiss the floor you walked on.

His excited brain was overwhelmed. It was as though he could feel the sparks under his skull—they traveled through his entire body. He drank beer in a lame attempt at calming down. “I don’t have one.” Another sip of beer. “A girlfriend, I mean.”

You stared at him and swallowed the bite of kimbap you had just eaten. “Boyfriend then, I’m certainly not in a position to judge—”

He cut you off. Couldn’t you see? Hadn’t you noticed—since the beginning of the year—the way he was looking at you? “I don’t have one of those either,” he responded, trying very hard to appear as laid-back as possible despite his pulse, currently defying medical standards.

You shook your head, washing down the rice with some more beer and replacing the roll in your hand with your cup of warm noodles. “No. Nu-huh. Not you, no way in hell—or heaven—that you’re single. A kind, handsome young man like you? You have a good, secure job, and you’re great with kids. No fucking way.”

You said many things in that sentence, but Hyunjin only processed one. Handsome. It was his turn to blush, quite badly even, so he pretended to struggle opening the packaging of his kimbap for much longer than he needed.

You let the silence linger for a short while. “Really?” you insisted. “Damn. If you’re single, it’s no surprise that someone like me is alone.”

Hyunjin frowned, taking a bite of food and chewing it carefully, thinking it over. Now that you were mentioning it and saying it so openly, Hyunjin could not comprehend that a woman like you was single.

He only had a few sips of beer, but Hyunjin was drunk on you. Today was supposed to be the day he asked you out—in his fantasy, he mentioned his favorite coffee shop and casually suggested you two went together. This was not what happened, and he could not stop the words when they flashed into his mind.

“It should be a surprise,” he blurted out. “How come you’re single? A woman like you?”

You wiped the corner of your mouth with a paper napkin, placing the noodles on the table again. For an instant, Hyunjin thought he might have offended you, that you were just going to walk away.

You bit your lip instead, leaning onto the couch with your beer in hand. “A woman like me?”

There was no stopping it, there was no controlling it either. “Yeah, you know what I mean.” Hyunjin shrugged, mirroring your position on the couch, his eyes traveling from the way your tits filled your shirt to the way your thumb caressed the opening of your beer bottle. It should be his cock in your hand, not just some bottle. Granted, you two should be discussing your son’s progress in class, so…

“I don’t know what you mean, no.” You laughed dismissively, pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “I tried dating apps for a while—soon after my divorce. I’m very cautious about who I let in my son’s life, but… I suppose I wanted to prove myself I was still…” Your sentence lingered like that, and you didn’t finish it before moving on. “Who would want to be with a woman who has a child, a full-time job and an ex-husband?”

“I—I—” He stammered through his words, as though the last drop of intelligence was drying up in his brain. Hyunjin was floating—it felt more like he was a spectator to his own actions than being in his own body. And yet, it was undeniably him, because those were simply things he had dreamt of telling you for months. “I think people are missing out on something if they’re overlooking you. Who cares about that stuff, why would they focus on that?”

Your shoulders shook with a quiet chuckle, but you said nothing.

He blinked, a little confused. He meant it as a compliment, not a joke. “W—what?”

You leaned forward on the couch, pushing yourself closer to him. “And what are you focusing on, Hyunjin?” You didn’t let him reply, wrapping your fingers around the bottle again and stroking it gently and, if he may, very evocatively. Heat was spreading through his entire body. “Because it looks like you’re focusing on my tits at the moment.”

Honest to god, if Hyunjin hadn’t been sitting down, he would have collapsed. He choked on the sip of beer he had just nervously drank so that he could have something to do with himself. You watched him calm down, a peaceful smirk on your beautiful face. It suited you.

“It’s alright,” you went on, leaning even closer. “You know, Hyunjin—that’s the difference between girls your age and women like me. No beating around the bush. I’m not going to pretend like it’s normal that I’m sitting with my son’s first grade teacher, in this room. On a Friday night. Having beers with him.”

Cheeks burning, Hyunjin gulped thickly, his eyes trailing all over you. He couldn’t bear looking at you in the eyes, not after this—shame was overtaking him, but so was lust. He felt it in his crotch, a gentle, continuous tingle that only grew stronger the more he smelled your perfume. And yet he could not look away, at the curves of your body, the outline of your bra through your shirt, your exposed neck, the way your skirt hugged your thighs.

There was your hand, too. Right there on the couch between you and him. He reached for it, not quite daring enough to hold it, but instead just caressing it gently with his fingertips. Your skin was smooth and warm. “Listen—I—I know it’s wrong—” he started, fully aware that he was trying to convince himself more than trying to convince you.

You responded to his touch, your body sliding just a few inches closer, your fingers playing with his. “Why is it wrong? We’re both adults, aren’t we? And it’s not like we’re going to tell anyone about what we did in the teachers’ lounge.”

You shifted your hand from under his to bring it to the collar of your shirt, fidgeting with the fabric before gently rubbing the first button that was closed, almost like you would rub your clit. Was that how you did it? Was that how you touched yourself? At night, when no one could hear you? Or did you do it during work hours sometimes to let some frustration out?

Your shirt was stretched by the swelling of your breasts underneath it. “You know, Hyunjin, women can always tell when men are looking.” In one agile motion, you undid that one button, exposing a little more of your cleavage. “Can’t you tell that I’ve been looking, too?”

He averted his gaze for a second, to allow himself just one moment of peace so that he could align some of his thoughts. No, he hadn’t really noticed anything… Well, he had noticed a few glances, of course, but he was too deep in his own head to really make anything of it.

The x’s though. At the end of your messages. Could it be that it was not something you did with just about anyone?

You chuckled, your fingers moving downward to undo another button. This one would expose you to him in a way he was not prepared to, and yet, he had been waiting for this for months. “Unless you’re telling me you invite all of the moms up here to have beers with them? Is that it?”

He shook his head, unbothered by the heat spreading on his cheeks, mesmerized by every little movement you made. The way your chest heaved gently with your breathing. Your fingers teasing that button. Your other hand wrapped around the neck of that beer bottle. “No. No, just you.”

You seemed satisfied with his honesty. Flattered even, maybe. Truth be told, Hyunjin could not resist you for much longer—the pressure was growing in his crotch and he could feel himself getting hard. Hard enough that it would show if you lifted his shirt even just a little. He eyed the bathroom door, suddenly imagining himself fucking you over the sink. Right now. Tonight.

You finally undid that button before placing the beer back on the table. He hissed under his breath at the sight of your exposed breasts, round, full, perfect in every way. You wore one of those see-through bras, and he was certain that if he were to pull your shirt down, he would see your nipples through the black lace. A speck of color caught his eye somewhere below your collarbone, like a stain on your smooth skin. A tattoo?

He knew then that he was done for. He almost dropped his own beer but you took it from him, pulling yourself close to him—just a few inches now separated your two bodies. Hyunjin could feel warmth emanating from you. It’s not that he was inherently attracted to tattoos—and it’s not that he wasn’t either. But if you had one, then it just was the hottest thing ever.

You raised your hand, cupping his face, caressing the soft skin of his cheek with your thumb. “You’re so pretty, Hyunjin.” You blushed too, much like him. The color of your cheeks reminded him of raspberry ice cream.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

There was no way in hell he could resist you. He didn’t want to resist you. You were there, so close, your lips beckoning him, your hand traveling from his face to his hair, caressing his scalp, twisting strands of hair around your finger. There was no way in hell he could make it to that bathroom—he was going to fuck you right then and there.

“Y—You’re so…” he started, devouring you whole with his eyes. “Beautiful,” he chose to say. “Sexy.” His eyes trailed down again on the muted blues and greens adorning your skin. “Is that a tattoo?”

You licked your lips, cocking your head to the side. “Yes. I got it out of spite, and for a while, I regretted it although it isn’t much. But I love it now.” You pulled down your shirt just enough to show him your ink. The tattoo was small but well-designed, with pretty, clear lines. It represented a bouquet of tulips, held together by a lovely ribbon.

“Spite, you said?” To him, the tulips were pretty tame and not very spiteful.

“My ex was against me getting a tattoo,” you explained, your voice soft. “One morning, I woke up and booked a last-minute appointment at a tattoo parlor—they took me immediately since someone had just canceled moments ago. It’s like it was meant to be. I got the tattoo. He never got me flowers, so I wanted flowers. While they were doing it, I decided I needed to do what was best for my son and for myself. I drove home and told him I wanted a divorce.”

Anger rose within him. How could anyone treat you like this? Hyunjin could not imagine being your husband and not making sure that the house had fresh flowers on a regular basis, always replacing them with new ones, filling the living room with their sweet scent. What kind of asshole was that? You needed to be worshiped—not ignored. “He never deserved you. You’re an incredible, beautiful woman.”

Your hand returned to him, reaching for his thigh. “It’s in the past now,” you murmured, your face dangerously close to his. “Hyunjin, tell me why I’m here. Tell me what you want.”

He could feel your warm breath tickling his lips, his nose, but nothing was as warm as the heat pooling between his legs. “You. I want you.”

You were closer now. He could see each and every one of your eyelashes. He could see the pretty lines on your lips, like rays of sunlight piercing through a veil of clouds. “Do you mean you want to fuck me, Hyunjin? Because I want to fuck you too.”

Hyunjin was freefalling. His cock twitched painfully in his pants as your hand traveled along his thigh, stopping right before his crotch. “Really?” His pulse quickening, he tried to even out his breathing. “C—Can I kiss you, then?”

“I was starting to wonder when you were going to do it, pretty boy. Kiss me. Touch me. I see the way you look at me.”

Pretty boy. Hyunjin almost came untouched when the words spilled from your lips, dangerous, sweet. Sensual. You were the sexiest woman he had ever seen.

Kiss you. Touch you. Yes, he wanted the same things, but he was suddenly becoming aware of his own lack of experience. Would you even like him? You were nothing short of a goddess—was he even worthy of you? That body of yours, your sweet voice, your deep, gentle eyes?

Worthy or not, Hyunjin knew he could fuck you better than that ex-husband of yours. He could make you scream, make you forget your own name. And he was going to.

Hyunjin leaned in for a kiss. Head spinning, he took your lips in his, kissing you. Finally. He wanted to take his time, he wanted to savor you. But he couldn’t. Your mouth was a little salty from the food, and soft, smooth. Wet. You kissed him back, tugging at his hair, keeping him right there where you wanted him. You kissed him with your mouth open, with your tongue. Hyunjin had never been kissed like that. He had never kissed like that either, like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe, like your lips were the only sustenance he would ever need again.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue wandering anywhere it saw fit. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him, kissing him like your life depended on it. The room was terribly quiet except for the buzzing of the neon lights above his head, the low rumbling of the fridge, and your soft little moans as you kissed him.

Hyunjin pulled you on top of him—you ended up sitting with your legs across his lap, your hand caressing his torso, every touch creating new fires inside of him. He wanted to fuck you. He wanted to fuck you badly. And he knew you wanted the same thing, and it made him dizzy.

“God, look at you,” he said between kisses, lips swollen with the ardor of the kisses. “How come you don’t have every man you meet on his knees?” You buried your face in his neck, maybe to conceal the dark red spreading on your cheeks, but you kissed him there, too, suckling and nibbling at him, leaving a trail of spit behind. “Should we head to my place?”

You closed your fist around his shirt, anchoring yourself there to pull you back to eye level with him. “Is there anyone else left?” You gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Are they going to come into this room and find us?”

He shrugged. “Probably just the principal. I don’t think he’ll come up here.”

He took your mouth again, kissing you with more purpose now. He wanted to tell you so much—that while he simply could not wait to fuck you, he wanted to do it right. With a glass of wine beforehand perhaps, running you a bath… Fucking you into his bed all night. But he could not. The ache between his legs was becoming more distracting by the second.

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t wait any longer. Your little glances are driving me fucking crazy.” You rested your hand on his chest as though you were feeling his rapid heartbeat. He couldn’t even believe this was happening—you wanted him? Here? Now? You were the hottest woman he had ever seen.

Hyunjin lay his large hands on your waist, his thumbs resting just below your breasts as you kissed him again, making out with him, moaning into his mouth. Not only did you want him, but your eagerness was making him dizzy, and he could feel his cock straining the fabric of his jeans. If you moved your leg even a little, you’d feel him, too.

And he wanted you to feel him, to know how hard you made him. He pulled you closer so that you were fully sitting on his lap now, never breaking the kiss, his hands touching you everywhere. Your hips, your thighs, your back. He ghosted your breasts too, basking in the sensation of your thigh applying a delightful pressure on his concealed erection.

“I knew it,” you sighed, pushing your hair out of the way, exposing your neck to him. You touched him. Your hand disappeared somewhere between your bodies and he felt it on him, palming his bulge, humming his appreciation as you squeezed him through his jeans. “I knew you looked too angelic not to be horny.”

Hyunjin smiled against your lips, blood rushing to his cock as you massaged him despite the clothes separating you from him. “I suppose I knew you were a bit of a whore,” he responded in the same tone. “So you were dressing like that on purpose?”

You didn’t deny it—instead, you went to his neck to suckle his skin there while you were unbuckling his belt. “Fucking loved it when you were trying to look at me in the eyes but just couldn’t,” you admitted. “It was cute, but kinda hot.” You unzipped his jeans, struggling a little.

He finally let go of his inhibitions when the zipper went down, though. You were one thin layer of fabric away from his hard, sensitive cock. Your body was warm on his, the weight of you better than anything he could have ever imagined. He reached for your shirt while you were trying to pull down his pants, undoing the buttons quickly until the shirt hung open on your shoulders. Until he could finally see your tits.

He almost came at the sight alone. Your delicate tattoo resting on the smooth skin below your collarbone. Your breasts filling the black lace of your bra so beautifully, fabric straining, nipples poking. He cupped them, rubbing your nipples with his thumb while he kissed your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. Your tits fit just perfectly in his hands, and the feeling of the lace under his touch was about to render him clinically insane.

He left one hand there while the other trailed between your legs. There was no time to waste—your pussy was right there, waiting for him. He rode up your skirt to expose you to him, hissing at the sight. His thumbs digging into the skin of your thighs, the lines and curves of your body. Your lace panties. Black, much like the bra.

He caressed the fabric with the back of his fingers, gently. You tensed up at the contact, but so did Hyunjin—your panties were soaked. He groaned, delighted, rubbing you a bit more intently now, feeling that warm wetness spread over your cunt.

You bit your lip, closing your eyes, tugging at the waistband of his underwear almost in retaliation for the caresses. Hyunjin felt a part of his soul leave his body when your hand found him to pull his cock out. “That’s the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.” You squeezed his length gently, just to get a feel of it.

“I haven’t done this in a while,” Hyunjin managed, his breath shallow. Intense waves of pleasure went through him every time you touched him. “I—I—”

“Shhh, it’s alright.” You kissed his lips, slowing down your rubbing motions on his cock, letting him touch you instead. “Like what you feel?”

He pushed your panties a little to the side to give himself access. His cock twitched when he felt your dripping cunt, your smooth folds. He teased at your entrance, coating his fingers with your slick, basking in the feeling of you under his touch. “Fuck…” He let out a sigh. The sounds produced by running his fingers all over your pussylips were driving him insane.

“Do it. Stretch me. You’ll have to if you want me to be able to take all that cock.” With that, you reprised your touches, thumbing his tip, massaging his length, cupping his balls. Your motions were agile, purposeful, and divine.

Hyunjin carefully pushed one finger into your cunt, slowly, languidly, until the bottom of his wrist caressed your clit. You felt so tight around his finger, so wet, too. He moved inside you like that, massaging your walls, stretching you.

You moaned, letting go of his cock as your body reacted to his touches—and Hyunjin knew you weren’t faking it because you clenched around his finger. “More,” you begged frantically, your face as flushed as his cock. “More, please.”

Hyunjin slid another finger into your entrance, caressing you in slow motion, listening to the sounds of your pussy, watching his fingers disappear in your soaked folds and move to the rhythm of your pleasure. He could smell you, too. A sweet, delicate scent. Unable to resist, Hyunjin pulled his fingers out of your hole to lick them.

To taste you.

“Are you fucking kidding me…” All this time, you had this pretty pussy and it tasted this good, and yet he was taking his sweet fucking time with you? He swallowed your taste. You tasted sweet and salty and smooth and lovely. “I need to eat you.”

It didn’t matter that his cock was straining, twitching, leaking, that his balls were aching. He needed you under his tongue. He helped you sit down comfortably on the couch while he slid off it, knees on the floor, elbows on the couch.

He pulled your panties down, ditching them behind his shoulder. Your pussy was as beautiful as the rest of you, flushed, glistening under the harsh lights of the room. He pushed your legs open so that he could watch as he fingered you again. If he really focused, he could see your pussy fluttering as he worked you open. He had never seen anything as beautiful as that. If he had been your husband he wouldn’t have divorced you. If he had been your husband he would have been on his knees every day to serve you.

Hyunjin leaned in, bringing his face closer to your pretty pussy, inhaling your scent. He kissed you first, your folds, your inner thighs, your mons. You moaned every time his lips came in contact with you.

Carefully, Hyunjin began lapping at you. Sweet kitten licks. To ease you into it. To ease himself into it, too. Using two of his fingers, he opened you to him, deepening his licking, laying his tongue flat onto you, harvesting all of your sweet slick to swallow it. You gasped under his touch, your fingers finding his hair to anchor you to him. God, you tasted so good. You were so wet.

Hyunjin worked his way to your clit, fucking you gently with two of his long, agile fingers. Your muffled moans filled the room deliciously, and he reveled in the soothing sting whenever you tugged at his hair, pulling him closer and closer, your thighs closing slowly around his head. He wouldn’t mind if this was the place he died.

Your hips bucked under him when he licked your clit, taking it delicately between his plush lips. You rubbed yourself against him, eyelids fluttering. Hyunjin had never seen anything as lewd as that—a woman as sexy as you, spread open for him, soaking wet for him, your beautiful body on display like that. He sucked on your clit for his own pleasure, enjoying a little too much to see you disheveled like that, loving the way you would writhe under him.

“What a pretty pussy,” he commented, licking your clit as though it was ice cream.

“Just fuck me already.” You pulled him even closer, fucking yourself onto his lips and his nose, humping from below in horny, desperate rolls of your hips.

He would have stayed there all night if you’d let him, tasting you, smelling you. The more he licked at you, the stronger your scent became, too. He loved to feel you under his tongue, and yet he felt compelled to fulfill every one of your needs. Maybe, if he were lucky enough, you’d let him have another taste, some other time.

He pulled himself back up on the couch, kissing you hard with his mouth still coated with your juices. You kissed him back, chasing your taste, working on ridding him of his jeans and underwear for good. Hyunjin placed you on your back under him while he kicked his pants away, taking his cock in his hand. He could feel his pulse through it.

“You sure about this?” he asked you between kisses, rubbing his cock on your inner thigh, smearing his precum all over your skin. Like he was marking you. “Shouldn’t I go get a condom?” He was pretty sure there was a box of them in the nurse’s office.

“No, pretty boy. I don’t care. Just fuck me.”

He should ask if you were on birth control at least, but the truth was he didn’t care either. Hyunjin aligned himself with your entrance and coated his tip with your slick. He throbbed in his hand, rubbing his cock all over your folds, smearing your wetness all over, but focusing on your clit. To make you moan. You moaned a lot, and he liked it.

You caressed your tits while he played with your clit, rubbing his stiff cock in upward motions. Would he ever be able to stop? Would he ever be able to not want you? Was this just the beginning? He hoped so.

“Please,” you pleaded, your voice no more than a breath. Had it been too long since you had been fucked?

Hyunjin spread your legs wide open, pushing his tip into your throbbing hole. Your languid moans turned into pretty staccato ones, but you let out a cry when he buried himself inside you in one powerful thrust. Your heat engulfed him, tight, wet, soft. Pillowy.

“FUCK!” Your head fell back as your body went limp.

Hyunjin moved inside you, stretching you slowly, mesmerized by the way it looked when he retreated a little and he could see your cream on his cock. He pushed himself back in, sinking into you with a groan. Again. And again, fucking you deeper each time.

“Don’t stop,” you urged, meeting his movements halfway. “God, you’re so big…”

He could feel it. His cock taking up all that space inside you, stretching you, stuffing your pretty little pussy. “Look at me, baby.” He hooked his finger under your chin to make you. “Look at me while I fuck you, okay?”

You did. You stared at him in the eyes as he slammed into you harder, testing your limits—and his. Your eyelids fluttered as he fucked you in this new relentless tempo, like an animal. Merciless. Desperate. “B—Better not pull out—” you managed, your face red and sweaty and beautiful. “You better give it to me, pretty boy.”

“Is that what you want?” He thrust into you, bottoming out, almost collapsing over you. You took his cock so well—it was like you were made for him.

“So—hard—” When your head fell back again, he made sure that you were looking him in the eyes. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Harder.”

He pounded into you, the pressure in his cock almost unbearable. It felt like he was about to implode into nothingness—he was lightheaded. “You’re clenching,” he hissed. He wanted to fuck you for hours, but it was like you were determined on milking him within this minute.

He adjusted his angle, his hands on your hips, fucking you deeply, moaning with you. He felt your orgasm approaching, saw it on your face, felt it in your cunt. “Cum if you want to cum. Promise I’ll fill you after.”

But you couldn’t even talk anymore—mouth open, you just stared at him, eyes glazed over, gasping every time his cock hit your deepest point, your back arching into him. “That’s it,” he grunted, fucking you into a sloppy mess. “Cum on my cock.”

Your whole body tensed up. You let out a drawn-out moan, clenching hard around him, holding onto him as though you were afraid to fall. And maybe it felt just like so because when you landed, you came. Hard. You came moaning and whispering his name, pleasure taking over you in waves, your pussy fluttering around his sensitive cock.

He felt himself closer to the edge too—the pressure grew hotter and stronger within him as he fucked you faster, chasing his climax. He had a goddess creaming all over his cock and he was going to fill her sweet cunt with his seed.

Hyunjin’s orgasm came in a crescendo so sudden that it surprised him. His body jerked as he buried himself deep inside you to cum there, letting your fluttering walls milk him. Nothing else existed for him except your warm cunt and his throbbing cock. He groaned as he came with surprising pressure, soon flooding you with spurts of his thick cum, fucking you until his cock relaxed, and until you no longer had aftershocks. He stayed inside you, panting over you, both of you sweaty messes.

You kissed him, looking a little dazed, but smiling. Hyunjin was floating, high on the feeling of his cock softening in your warm, stuffed cunt.

He kissed you back. “That was incredible.” He blushed saying it, but he wanted you to know. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t last very long—”

You blushed too, wiping his brow with the back of your hand in a caring, gentle motion. “I came first, remember? I’ve wanted this for a long time, Hyunjin.”

His cock twitched at that. He pulled out, letting his cum drip from your well-fucked hole, staining the couch underneath. He couldn’t care less. “I’ve wanted you for a long time too,” he admitted, staring at the off-white liquid stick to your flushed pussy, tempted to just fuck it back into you.

You sat up, staring at him intently, pulling him closer for another kiss. “You know, Ki-hyuk’s dad is picking him up tomorrow at one in the afternoon. For the whole weekend. Maybe you should come over, pretty boy.”

author's note: Hello guys! I feel like I should apologize - I know I haven't been writing my "usual" stuff lately, and that I've been neglecting the series on here. I do what I can while also minding my health, and I'm sure you understand, but I wanted to say thank you for your patience and your support. Hopefully I can write just like before soon. You guys take care! x

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suhomylife · 6 months

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This so so freaking hot please helpppppppppp

I’ve goosebumps all over my body

Imagine like being hyunjins neighbour and he invites you over to dance w him since you mentioned you liked dancing, you're wearing a thin white t-shirt and sad girlz luv money' starts playing and he subtly starts grinding onto you? Pulling you closer and closer during the dance noticing your nipples hardening through the exceptionally thin shirt as i slowly spits on top of the shirt to rub them.....sjsksmshksm..

gurl I– I've had to sit on this for a minute because it made my brain and coochie go very tingly 😵‍💫 the VIBES

He’s slow and sensual when he finally allows himself to touch you. Gradually getting closer to you, large hands softly drifting over your waist, touches barely there, giving you the chance to move away if you don't want it. But, of course you do, have been wanting it since he moved in, since he first looked at you with a soft smile on his lips. There was never a question of if you were attracted to each other, only a question of when the tension would finally lead you here.

You're not pulling away, but he still takes his time getting closer to you, approaching you carefully, gently. His touches going from barely there to a soft grip as he moves with you to the music. Then you can feel his breath on your neck and shudder. His hand runs over your hip bone, some of his fingertips slipping underneath the thin material of your shirt and leaving a trail of fire where they touch your skin.

You hum and lean back until your back hits his chest and he whines, so quietly you can barely tell. His hand wanders from your hip until it's splayed over your abdomen and with one smooth movement, he pulls you against his hips and oh.

"You drive me crazy," he whispers into your ear, grinding himself against you in small motions. You gasp.

"You drive me crazy, too," you whisper back with a disbelieving little chuckle. You're finally here. Took you long enough.

His eyes fall to where your nipples are now peeking through the fabric of the thin shirt. You had to have worn it on purpose, he thinks, and the thought of you doing anything for him electrifies him, makes him allow his hand to travel higher and higher up your body from your abdomen over your belly to your sternum. He is aching to touch your skin, but not giving in yet makes him that much harder.

He stops short of your tits and you're just about to throw your pride out the window and beg him to touch you when he cups one of them and leans forward, letting a string of spit drip from between his perfect plush lips. It lands directly on your clothed nipple and you shiver in his grasp. He hums approvingly, hungry eyes fixed on where the now see-through material clings perfectly to your sensitive bud.

You try to figure out when on earth you had let something slip that would’ve told him how much this would turn you on, but then his thumb comes up and rubs your nipple in time with his hips that are still grinding his hardness into your ass and you're gone. You’re unable to care for anything except the music and your bodies and how good he's making you feel, even though he’s barely touching you yet.

"Please," you whisper, your eyelids fluttering shut when his soft lips land on the skin of your neck, leaving sweet kisses in their wake. He just chuckles when you whine and you want to kiss the smile off his stupidly perfect face. He tugs at your nipple meanly through the wet shirt, and you gasp.

"I love it when you beg for me," he purrs out, bringing his hand up to your face, tapping your bottom lip until you open them and let him slide pointer and middle finger into your hot mouth, your hot spit coating them readily. He hums approvingly, his dick twitching against where he's still pressed tightly against your ass, as he rubs his long, strong fingers over your tongue.

When he pulls them from your mouth, leaving a messy trail down your chin in the process, you almost whine at the loss. But all thoughts are wiped from your head when his hand slips into your pants and he buries the two wet fingers in your heat.

“There you are,” he hums when your whole body arches into his, “so, so wet for me, too.”

He sounds beyond pleased, languidly swiping his fingers through your slick, dipping his fingertips into your entrance teasingly, chuckling when you moan out. But he doesn’t tease, smoothly slipping two fingers into you.

He starts pumping into you, filling you perfectly, his other arm still wound around your waist, holding you up. His free thumb swipes over your clothed nipple where your wet shirt is still wet and clinging to your skin and you keen into him desperately.

You whimper wantonly, unable to keep quiet when his fingers feel so perfect and he’s taking such obvious pleasure from touching you, rewarding every one of your moans with a quiet gasp of his own, pressing his hard cock against your ass as he fucks you with his fingers.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbles into your neck as he curls his fingers inside of you, “I’ve been dreaming of having you like this since I met you.”

You mewl, your arm shooting up to tangle in his raven black hair and pull him closer. He complies with a beautiful groan.

“Did you feel it, too, when we met?” he breathes out, a brittle neediness in his voice, “did you feel the connection? I did, God, I did. I saw you and I knew we were meant for each other.”

It feels like he’s everywhere. You mewl out sweetly, brain so foggy with want you think you might die. And then his palm catches on your clit and your head falls back onto his shoulder. Dialled in on your every reaction, he immediately notices, repeating the motion until you can feel the heat in your abdomen build rapidly, your hips grinding into him reflexively.

“I felt it, too,” you gasp out and he chokes down a moan, pressing himself against you harder, “I w-wanted you s-so bad, you’re so fuck- fucking beautiful, oh god, I’m cumming I’m cumming, hnnnng.”

You tip over the edge suddenly with a long whine of his name on your lips. Blinding pleasure rockets through your body, your hips bucking into his hand and you can feel yourself cream around his fingers. His face is buried in your hair as he rides you through your orgasm, high-pitched moans tumbling from his own lips until his hips suddenly stutter into your ass and then still.

You can feel the skin of his face burning on your neck as you come down, your cunt still clenching around his fingers every now and again, until he gently pulls them out. You immediately turn in his grasp, staring up at his beautiful, flushed face.

“I … I’m very sorry,” he mumbles out, the arm that was around you falling down, self-consciously covering his crotch with his hands. “I promise I’m not usually … uhm.”

You shut up him up with your hands on his face, smiling at the adorable look of shock on his face, before you pull him down to finally connect your lips to his. He opens his mouth with a pretty little sigh, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pulling you flush against himself, so close you can feel every inch of his solid body against yours. When you try to pull away, he tightens his grasp around you, only allowing you to part your lips from his. His hot breath fans over your lips as he looks down at you with the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

“If you think I’m letting you go, you’re wrong.”

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

taglist: @puppyminnnie @like-a-diamondinthesky @lyramundana @laylasbunbunny @minsflannelwrap148 @caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja and, of course, the inspiration: @chansbreadfactory

TAGLIST OPEN 🔖 (please be 18+ and have your age in your bio, otherwise I won't add you)

#stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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suhomylife · 6 months

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HOOLLY SHIT! This all was a freaking roller coaster

BUT THE ENDING? Excuse me?

Absolutely ruined me! FANTASTIC!

TITLE: Play Bite

PAIRING: Hyunjin x Jisung x female reader

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSWF SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: You, Hyunjin, and Jisung have a really fun time playing a dirty truth or dare game after the plans for everyone to go out failed.

TAGS: Hyunjin, Jisung, and reader have all consumed alcohol but are not fully drunk, smut, kissing, hickies, making out, dirty texts, dirty talk, erotic truth or dares, use of pet names such as 'bub', 'baby' and 'pretty', swearing, food play (nothing heavy), solo orgasm, female masturbation, suggestive material, very vague mentions of choking (not emphasised), slight traces of top!Jisung.

A/N: Think of this as a prelude to this hard thought I posted a while ago. If you haven't read it, it will give you some context into what will come in the future for this type of concept. Also just to preface but not give away too many spoilers, nobody is cheating in this story.

MASTERLIST

“Remove one piece of clothing, socks do not count,” Jisung reads aloud from the card in his hand.

It’s the third task into the deck of dirty truth or dare at Hyunjin's apartment. After the entire group’s plan to go out for the night fell through when it started pelting down, it was in all three of your guys’ best interests to not waste the night. So, although he invited the rest of the group over for drinks, only you and Jisung decided to go around.

An hour later into the night and already just past the point of tipsy, the three of you progressed to playing games. A set of dirty truth or dare cards was the first thing that caught Jisung’s keen eye as he analysed the plethora of games that Hyunjin had on a shelf in his living room.

“You’re not even wearing socks, so you have no choice,” Hyunjin chuckles, almost evilly.

Jisung dons his best thinking face, eyes narrowing as he tries to come up with which item of clothing he wants to take off. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the entire fabric up and over his head before placing it beside him, careful not to knock over his drink.

Your eyes glue to his gorgeous bare top half for a few seconds too long before averting them to the floor like you weren’t supposed to look at him. It’s not like you’ve never seen him topless before in all of his honey toned glory. Almost always will Jisung proudly walk around half naked unprovoked when you’re around him.

“Your turn bub,” he continued.

You clear your throat then lean over to pick a card up from the middle, then read it out loud, “oh…”

“What’s it say?” Jisung peeks his head over to see what’s written down before his jaw unhinges. “Let the person to your left select an area of your body for them to give you a hickey. Wow.”

Hyunjin, to your left, stares back at you in shock and horror. His cheeks were ballooned and full of liquid after taking a large swig of his drink before setting it down. The more silent seconds that tick by, the more flips his stomach keeps doing. But, he had to expect the unexpected with this game.

You and Jisung were ready to play by the rules and Hyunjin wasn’t going to exempt himself from it just because of the card you pulled.

He swallows the mouthful of alcohol, “alright. Are you okay with me doing this?”

You nod even though you can feel your heart picking up its pace, “I am.”

He takes your answer and runs with it then ponders on the best place to plant a hickey on your body. It doesn’t take him long to think of a number of unspoken places where he would and even though he’s tipsy enough to disclose those areas, he decides to keep that to himself.

“Okay, can you lie down for me then?” He asks.

“Lie down?”

“Mm, otherwise it might be awkward to reach,” he explains vaguely.

You start jumping to conclusions at the instant you hear his request, yet your mind is so hazy that your body just ends up listening to what Hyunjin has asked of you instead. You end up lying back on the floor, your head next to Jisung’s thigh who looks down at you while Hyunjin moves.

His long body straddles yours but not fully putting his weight down on you. With his hand, he pulls back some of your hair so he can reach the area he wants before gently tilting your chin up and to the side towards Jisung.

Hyunjin then sinks his face down just to the side of your throat and sucks. For a second, your body squirms at the slight achy pang that he brings to the surface of your skin. Still, with the way that your body is buzzing, it undoubtedly feels amazing. He remains there for a few seconds and uses his tongue to swipe over the surface he just marked.

Jisung watches with his mouth ajar. He takes in the contorted look of concentration on your face, the way your eyelids flutter closed.

It’s not long after until Hyunjin peels himself off of you then takes your hand to help you sit back up again. In hindsight, you wonder if it was all but necessary to lie down for him in order to give you a hickey. But Hyunjin’s thinking was that to reach your throat, you had to be on the ground.

“That might’ve been-“ his face contorts with worry just looking at the fresh, deep and reddish mark. “A bit much, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you respond, trying to act cool under the pressure. “It felt nice anyway. Okay, Hyunnie’s turn.”

He draws another card, reading it in his mind before his eyes dart to Jisung, “make out…with the person beside you for one minute.”

“W-Which side?” You ask.

“My left which is-“

“Me,” Jisung responds, pointing at his chest. “Alright then.”

Hyunjin stares blankly at his friend, unsure if he's joking or not, “wait, you’re…you’re serious?”

Jisung shifts his body closer to Hyunjin, his face nearing him, “that’s the game right?”

“Y-Yeah,” he replies sheepishly. “Yeah, okay then.”

“I can set a timer,” you announce.

He’s never done this before - kissed a friend, made out with a friend. For one, Hyunjin knows Jisung has done so multiple times, having been an impartial witness to it. Whether it was while Jisung was drunk, sober, high, it happened. Even with the same gender.

“Alright,” you say, pulling out your phone as you go to the clock app to set a timer for one minute and place it on the ground. “3, 2, 1, go.”

You’re not sure who it was first that leaned in for the kiss after being so warped by the fact that they were even doing this. It was like Hyunjin offered his mouth and Jisung went for the kill. Both of them started off slowly by the time ten seconds hit. Twenty seconds in and Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the side of his friends’ face when the kiss deepens even further.

You watch the glide of their tongues move so languidly with one another, doing unspeakable things in between your legs. Similar to Jisung’s reaction when Hyunjin gave you a hickey, your mouth was on the floor. There’s no way in hell could you ignore how hot it was to see them make out.

After forty seconds, the pace had picked up a notch as they continued to move in sync with one another. Jisung’s hand had made it onto Hyunjin’s lap with some unintentional plan of slowly hiking up his thigh. In his mind, the more touch, the better. He already felt floaty because of the alcohol. Now Jisung touching him, kissing him, was an enhancement.

At the mark of one minute, your phone rudely blares its alarm. Hyunjin pulls away with red lips, Jisung’s as equally as glossy as the other. They stall for a second, almost as if they briefly thought about going back at it again…

“Minho was right,” Jisung breaks the silence willingly. “You are a pretty good kisser.”

“What?” Hyunjin exclaims, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

“What?” He whines. “He and I were trying to figure out who in the group would be the best kisser. Minho reckons you are.”

“You say that as if you’ve kissed everyone in the group to try and find that out,” You realise.

“Well I just kissed him, so it’s everyone except for you now. Which there’s still time for since it’s my turn now,” he responds in a slightly hopeful tone and picks up his next card. “Huh, maybe not - what’s the most amount of times you’ve had sex in one day?”

“Is that the first truth question?” Hyunjin points out, trying to subtly keep himself calm after what just went down with Jisung.

“I think so,” you reply. “We’re nowhere near halfway through the deck.”

“Three and a half,” Jisung answers.

“And a half?” You and Hyunjin parrot in unison, the confusion very present in both of your tones.

“Halfway through the act, got caught, had to wrap it up and leave,” Jisung explains very succinctly. “It would’ve been four if it weren’t for fucking Seungmin. Doesn’t matter, it’s not like I’m holding a grudge or anything.”

“Sure,” you trail off, trying your best not to laugh at his misfortune while you go to pick up a card. “Uh, lend your phone to the person on your right and let them send a dirty text to someone in your contacts.”

Jisung claps excitedly, “hand it over baby!”

You roll your eyes, reluctantly passing him your device, “anyone except my family otherwise I probably won’t live to see another day.”

He takes your phone earnestly with a cheeky and devious expression before delving righteously into your contacts list, “don’t worry, I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

Jisung’s thumb scrolls excitedly trying to find the right person to send the right message to. He pauses over a couple of names and then finds one he thinks will give the most entertaining response. He creates a new message and types in what he wants to say.

From You: I’m horny. Come over and fuck me.

The silence was palpable as the fate of your dignity rests in your friends’ hands. Once the message is sent, Jisung keeps your phone on standby while you all wait for the response. The sheer riskiness of the dare calls for you to pick up your drink and finish the rest off, knowing that you’re going to need it.

“What did you write?” You ask him anyway, setting your empty glass aside.

He looks smugly at the screen again and repeats what he created, “I’m horny, come over and fuck me.”

Your eyes widen in horror, “t-that’s not…who did you send that to!?”

“That’s a bit straightforward isn’t it?” Hyunjin laughs.

“Doesn’t matter now, your turn, go,” Jisung nods to you.

“Fine,” you groan, snatching up a card. “How many times a day do you get off? Once, maybe twice. Done. Next, you go.”

Hyunjin blinks in surprise at the information you so rapidly provided and leans into the circle to grab his card, “alright. Choose one person to sit in between your legs for the remainder of the game.”

“I think considering that he and I just made out, it’s your turn to do something now,” Jisung smoothly contends his point before you could even get a word out.

“Fair enough,” you respond coolly.

The move is practically childsplay in comparison to what they’ve done so far. Nonetheless, it quickly proved itself to be rather effective on your body.

Hyunjin tries not to grin and spreads his legs for you to slot perfectly in between them. You’ve been this close to him before - in a hug at least. But never has Hyunjin been as acutely intimate with you as of right now. As he’s pressed up behind you, it’s hopeless to try not to be so affected by such subtlety. The warmth from his body glows like a heater onto your back and the steadiness of his breathing is comforting.

“Sungie’s turn,” he says from behind you.

Another card is taken from the deck and Jisung reads once more, “feed someone a food item with your mouth. Okay, but what kind of food?”

“There’s that bowl of grapes just there on the coffee table,” Hyunjin points over to it.

Jisung spins around on the floor and sees the assortment of snacks that they had laid out on the table earlier on. He turns back with the entire silver bowl in his lap, popping a couple of them in his mouth and eating away to his heart's content before proceeding with the dare.

“You’re breathing heavy,” Hyunjin whispers teasingly in your ear while Jisung isn’t looking.

“S-Shut up,” you utter back to him, trying not to act so utterly embarrassed by the truth he’s managed to highlight.

Jisung pops in two more grapes and goes to sit beside you before talking with his mouth full, “bo’ o’ ya.”

“Huh?” Hyunjin retorts, trying to decipher what his friend is saying.

You ponder for a second, “I think he said both of us?”

Your guess comes up as correct because without a proper verbal answer from Jisung, his actions spoke louder. He leans towards your face first - closer than it has ever been since you’ve known him. The purple grape sits between his teeth as he goes to pass it to you by his mouth. It was awkward to manoeuvre at first, but the pair of you discovered that using your lips is key. By that point, Jisung manages to exchange the fruit as you crush down on the grape that explodes with such a sweet flavour.

Then, he moves a bit behind you to reach Hyunjin. Both of them struggle to pass the grape without fully touching each other's lips once more. Then again, that was the point of the card that Jisung pulled.

“Yummy?” he asks, sliding back to his original spot with the bowl.

“Mm,” Hyunjin hums while he chews. “Sweet.”

Half of the stuff that you’ve done so far with them makes you realise that you’re not that nervous to do these kinds of things. It could’ve been the alcohol, that definitely helps. But also because they’re two of your best friends and wherever they are, you feel safe in their proximity.

“My turn,” you say as Jisung picks the top card off of the deck and slides it to you across the floor. “Oh - same as Sungie’s, remove a piece of clothing, socks do not count. Isn’t this just a forfeit card since it’s already been picked up?”

“No, not necessarily?” Hyunjin answers. “Plus, what if you forfeit that one and pick another one but it’s worse?”

He had a good point. It was a very mellow dare in comparison to the others you’ve all completed. With that in mind, your hands find their way down to your shorts, contemplating whether to take them off or not. Considering Jisung already has his top off, you went for the opposite in a sudden spur of confidence that was short lived when you saw the look on your friend's face.

Jisung’s eyes couldn’t leave where your hands moved as you freed your legs from the fabric, allowing you to remain in your underwear. However, it becomes very apparent to you that taking your pants off wasn’t such a good idea when you know that you’re wet. Whether they knew it, particularly Jisung who had a full view of you, was too late.

Behind you, Hyunjin was trying to keep himself calm as you moved around a bit, “w-who’s turn is it now?”

Jumping onto a different topic gave time for Jisung to blink away from your body. He feels guilty for even staring at you like that in the first place. Then again, it’s not like you weren’t doing the same ever since he took his shirt off.

“Yours actually,” you answer and without any spatial awareness whatsoever, you lean forward just a bit to pick up a card for Hyunjin that your ass slightly pushes back into his crotch in the process.

After the fact of the matter, you realise what you’ve done. But it wasn’t intentional. You just wanted to pick up a card for him so that he didn’t have to move from behind you. As you come back to sit between his legs properly, you feel his forehead rest against the back of your head - a silent sign to prove he definitely recognised what you did to him.

Although he didn’t say anything because what was there to say to that? In hindsight, it might’ve been better forJisung to just read it out for Hyunjin.

“H-Here,” you offer the card to him, playing it off.

He lifts his head back up from yours and takes the item, “what is your dirtiest fantasy and why?”

Right now if Hyunjin was able to answer honestly, he would say ‘fucking you while his best friend watches.’ But even for a filthy game that they’re playing, he thought it would be inappropriate to say. On top of that, it’s not actually his dirtiest fantasy. He could do way worse but just doesn’t know what at this point in time in his sex life. There was still time for him to explore…

“I haven’t really got one at the moment,” says Hyunjin. “I suppose just real…rough sex.”

Jisung immediately becomes intrigued, oblivious to the fact that Hyunjin had it in him to admit such a scandalous piece of information, “what does that mean to you though?”

He becomes even more flustered under the heat of his friends’ question, it doesn’t help that he’s nearly fully hard behind you either, “it means things like…choking or hair pulling-”

“What…you like to do those things or those things being done to yo-

“Both, I like both. Anyway, that’s not the question,” Hyunjin interrupts impatiently. “Just move on.”

It’s difficult for you not to laugh at him, yet as you go to pick up a card - more carefully this time for Hyunjin’s sake - your smile fades quicker than you could blink. Not one doubt crossed your mind about how obscene this game could get. Yet this card refuted all of that.

“I…get…get yourself off in front of someone,” you mumble in a very quiet voice.

“Get what?” Jisung tries to reiterate.

Hyunjin’s brows knit in concentration as he reads the card from over your shoulder, “she has to get herself in front of someone.”

An ‘o’ forms in Jisung’s mouth before he responds to that statement, “that’s a…an interesting card.”

The three of you fall deathly silent to the weight that the dare has you under. Your mind wants you to do it, to satiate that instinctual appetite to pleasure yourself ever since the game heated up. To do so in front of your friends doesn’t appear to be a bad idea which technically it isn’t from the way they already have you unintentionally wet. That in itself said a lot.

Therefore, you spread your legs and bend your knees.

An expression of realisation washes over Jisung, coming to grips with what’s about to unfold. As for Hyunjin, he can only sit and remain in place as a support for you to lean against when your hand slips down the front of your underwear as you begin to rub. A sigh of warm relief then pushes past your lips. The pads of your fingers collect your damp essence to use as you circle over your clit.

Already, a hefty volume of pressure is escalating in the pit of your tummy, tingling and spreading throughout your lower half. All from being turned on by the game. The person in front of you and behind you feel the exact same way except the one behind you was already there a long time ago. Their cocks fill out against the inside of their thighs and Hyunjin is positive that you can feel him through his pants.

“Y/N,” Jisung says. “Does that make you feel good?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin warns him sharply, not wanting his friend to fuel the fire that’s burning.

“Mm, y-yes,” you stutter, breath catching at the base of your throat the more you try and push yourself towards an edge.

It could be better though. It could be the pair of them groping and teasing your body at their will. You know that they both know how to use their mouths with the way that they made out earlier on. Not to mention from the grapevine, you’ve heard about Jisung too; how he knows how to eat pussy. Then you have Hyunjin, who just exposed his fantasy of liking having rough sex. The possibilities with his ideas would be endless and fun.

With the pair of them, you don’t think you would ever run out of orgasms. Just thinking about it makes your fingers speed up, becoming increasingly more wetter. Your muscles jerk every now and then when you inch closer to the tail end of your orgasm, which causes you to unintentionally move against Hyunjin’s crotch once more.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin breathes out against you.

“Don’t touch her,” Jisung snaps. “This is her dare.”

“I-I’m not fucking touching her,” he presses back madly, then mutters just to himself as he hides behind you. “Can’t help it Jisung.”

“K-Keep watching…” you plead. “So…close.”

Hyunjin’s nails are digging deep into the carpet beneath him and his restraint not to touch you teeters dangerously on the last millimetre of a cliff. He’s throbbing, achingly hard. For you. Jisung can see his friends' knuckles turning white but he understands. He too remains hard in his sweats, which was obvious to you. Even just the slight outline that you can see indicates to you that he’s big.

Your mind starts wondering what that sort of length would do to your body, how would it feel to have inside of you? As you ask yourself those questions, you try to imagine that sensation when you start fingering yourself.

You whimper pathetically, curling over that sweet spongy spot, “yes, feels so good. Makes me wanna cum…”

“Yeah? Gonna cum in front of us?” Jisung eggs you on. “Gonna make yourself cum just for us?

Your dozy eyes lock with him just for a few seconds before you nod against Hyunjin’s body, “j-just for you both.”

“F-Fuck,” Hyunjin squeezes his eyes tight shut, gritting his teeth so much that his jaw aches.

As that familiar euphoric bliss catches up to you, a silent scream paints over your face while your eyelids clamp shut and your eyebrows are furrowed together, focusing on the pleasure. For a moment, you’ve forgotten that Hyunjin is behind you as you can’t help but shiver helplessly against his body from the waves of your orgasm. Quiet yet very audible moans ring throughout Hyunjin’s apartment, making themselves known as you gradually come down with heavy gasps.

“Holy shit,” Jisung murmurs in awe, he can see that you’ve soaked through your underwear.

The large wet and sticky patch makes him want to lurch forward, tear the piece of clothing from your body and taste you for himself. To have his face buried in between your legs would be the Atlantis of his own fantasy right now, to have you use his mouth and tongue until you’re cumming all over again.

In the moments of quiet when the still air is filled with nothing but your staggered breathing and depleted whimpers as you try to collect yourself, your phone buzzes on Jisung’s thigh - the reply to the dirty text he sent from earlier on.

He looks down at the glowing bright screen and his jaw drops to the floor once more. His mind sobers quickly.

From Chan to You: Again? Still horny from this morning? Alright then, I can come over and give you what you need x

There was no way.

I strictly forbid and do not permit anyone or any user to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr to any other social media platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#rosiewritesskz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut #hyunjin smut #changbin smut #felix smut #i.n smut

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suhomylife · 6 months

Text

This is so beautiful I’m about to cry 😭

Gosh I love the plot. I love how tender Hyunjin is. How he is ready for her and how he doesn’t hesitate to tell her to be his! Omfgggggg but the fact that you added that he has a fast heartbeat and he’s in such anticipation makes it even more real and I cherish it so much!

Also how he’s to soft and calm and then he doesn’t hesitate framing her to the bedroom straight away almost had me screaming.

Oughhh loved every second of it. Thank you very much h for it ❤️

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: boyfriend's best friend Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you should've left your boyfriend sooner considering the man of your dreams, his best friend, has always been there for you... but the faithful event you were hoping for finally occurs and you find yourself at his house, in his arms, in his bed.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst?, smut, fluff, aquaintances to lovers

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cheating (but not really, you'll see), reader is in a toxic relationship, explicit descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex (it's sexy but use protection babes), fingering, pretty vanilla.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4K

I have a thing for sex while it rains, it seems... and like this I post something after months. I'll work this storyline in the future too for Hyunjin, but for now, enjoy!

It's strange how sometimes we believe to be in the right place to later find out we were living in a lie, a product of our fervid imagination, just to not accept reality and the fact that life, or even our past self, played a good and structured not-so-funny prank on us.

These lies we tell ourselves most of the time are a response to our awful experiences, but they can become harmful in numerous types of ways, and we should learn that instead of letting us be tempted by sweet beliefs. When we find ourselves facing reality it's hard to accept it, it's ugly, but ugly things are part of life and we should try and accept them nonetheless, they may reveal themselves as lessons or the best things that happened to us, with various meanings to that.

What pisses people off the most is the "waste of time". And that's how you feel too, like the rest of humankind, angry because you wasted time. You would very gladly prefer to be in the denial stage of the whole thing but it's so evident that you can't even pretend to be doubtful, to question what you saw, to give him a chance to explain himself.

The car is still cold even if you already reached the destination that popped in your mind right after what happened, salty tears adorning your eyes as they cross your freezing cheeks, collecting under your chin, falling on your scarf. The same damn scarf he gifted you after your first two weeks of dating, the one you didn't even like at all, the color you hated, a dull pattern over it… the urge to pull down the car window and throw it outside in the middle of the parking lot soon becomes reality. Wind starts to rise a bit, and you see it dance on the wet concrete for a while before a car passes over it and plasters it on the ground.

Ironic, right? You feel a bit bad after the impulsive gesture, but he didn't hesitate to make you feel the same, so, "screw it".

You shouldn't even be here. You should go to your own best friend, sitting on her way too low couch with its broken springs and cry your eyes out as she yells at you her usual "I told you so!" and "You're an idiot, I knew it from the start!" even if what you really need is comfort, and not to be scolded like a twelve years old while she offers you chocolates and tissues like in some chiché romcom.

That's why Hyunjin's place is just few meters and five floors away from you now. You're actually hesitant to get out the car but when you see your boyfriend's text appear on your screen, asking where are you, it's suddenly not so difficult to take your things and rush to take the elevator, and when you send Hyunjin a message telling him you're in front of his apartment he's quick to open the door. He doesn't say a thing, he doesn't even dare to, he already knows.

He delicately takes your hand in his and guides you inside with a saddened smile, his eyes soft as they watch you attentively trying to search for your tears. God, he wants to kiss them all away, he never wants to see you like this ever again, but he thinks it's probably not the last time… is it? Either way, he'll do anything he can to make the redness of your eyes disappear.

"Go sit on the couch petal, relax for me, hm?" he says in a hushed tone to not provoke your impending outburst. When you're finally hugged by his cushions you feel his presence behind you, his hands going on your shoulders to free you from your heavy coat and bag that he places on his forearm. When he reaches for your scarf his fingers are suddenly met with the cold skin of your neck and a startled "oh!" escapes from him because of the unexpected touch, making you giggle. If only you knew how his heart starts beating faster whenever he hears you like this…

"Where is your scarf? You always wear it, were you in such a rush to leave it at your place?" he's now lowered near your face, breath tickling your cheek as he adjusts your jumper on your shoulders ー the stained one you only wear at home, you didn't even change, how embarrassing. He touches you like frail porcelain and little bumps start to rise on your skin where traces of his touch linger, you wish his fingerprints could bruise your skin.

"I threw it in the parking lot…" you explain, looking at him trying to not make your lips touch while doing so.

A laugh that comes from his chest slowly builds up as he lifts himself and reluctantly distances from your face to go place your belongings on the hanger at the entrance. If only he knew how your heart twists in excitement whenever you hear him like this…

Hyunjin doesn't come back to you immediately. He always makes sure you have enough time to think by yourself first, to gather your words, to decide if you want to cry or yell, and then he sits beside you and goes along with anything you've come up with. It's always been like this until today, every time you came to his place after something happened between you and his best friend, every time he had to gather your broken pieces and try to put you together again. He doesn't know he's always done that beautifully though, making a breathtaking mosaic out of you, making you so splendid and wonderful anyone could say he's your creator.

You hear a distant rustling in the kitchen, the clicking of the bottles in the fridge as he closes it with a thud, two glasses colliding it seems, and his slippers sliding on the floor, approaching you.

"You're lucky petal, I have your favorite today." he proceeds to place the glasses on the way too elegant coffee table and pour the drink with all the calmness in the world. Time with Hyunjin stops. You think that every second spent with him is never wasted.

"I like this clip, it compliments your hair color." he says suddenly, snapping you out of your trance. How could he notice such a thing?

"Really? It's the first time I wear it…" you still mumble a bit, too shaken to let your voice take its natural timbre. Hyunjin laughs again, handing you the drink and carefully sitting so as to not spill everything on his expensive carpet. His body is completely facing yours, knee against knee.

"It's not true!" Hyunjin takes a sip and giggles at your confused expression.

"You had it the first time we met, too. It was perfect with your dress and necklace. Do you really not remember? You looked beautiful…"

What Hyunjin refers to is a random saturday evening of autumn. What day it was, what you were wearing, what you did before meeting in front of the restaurant, you can't remember… but what you can vividly recall is the stinging sensation of the first cold breeze of the season on your cheeks, how crunchy multicolored leaves swirled on the sidewalk, and the city lights beginning to be turned on a bit earlier than usual. Now that you think about it, it was around this period. You remember what perfume you wore, paying attention to what type of impression you wanted to give to your boyfriend's group of friends that you were about to meet for the first time, and you even remember what mascara you decided to use.

But what remained tattooed on your bones the most are the first ten seconds of Hwang Hyunjin taking possess of your vision, because you felt incredibly sick.

If you close your eyes and concentrate you can almost feel the same emotions, when your stomach swirled like it was a washing machine, your head light, and your legs almost giving in making you trip while standing still.

You felt incredibly guilty, disgusted with yourself, disappointed, a monster. Why the hell your first thought was "he's my soulmate" and not something along the lines of "nice, my boyfriend's best friend" you still don't know. Call it destiny, call it sixth sense, you immediately tried to suppress it all.

It didn't help that Hyunjin's slender fingers delicately took your hand to kiss your knuckles with his oh, oh so beautiful lips like an ambassador of chivalry itself, his siren eyes looking up at you sweetly but confidently, making you blush like crazy ー you later blamed your flustered expression to the restaurant's excessive heating.

On top of that, your boyfriend decided to sit at your side leaving Hyunjin in front of you, so you had his ridiculously handsome face in sight for the whole night as you ate your stupid california rolls and tried to elegantly slurp your noodles ー for as much as something like that is even possible.

You talked, a lot, even if you felt your face heat up at every strangely seductive giggling sound he made together with the little bumps his shoes would land on your naked ankles, toying with your heels from time to time. You had so much in common, and after that you only felt complete when he was near you.

Your boyfriend did catch on with the new dynamic though, so unfortunately considering how jealous and a bit possessive he is, you and Hyunjin didn't see each other as often as you expected after that, but you really didn't grasp that it was because he wanted you apart at first, just a series of unfortunate coincidences.

Hyunjin parted from you with a tight hug, lingering his hands on the smaller of your back, adjusting your shawl over your coat and twirling a strand of your hair behind your ear, the moment never fully leaving your memory. He was… perfect, really just perfect, and you couldn't help but feel nauseous when you got in the car with your boyfriend to let him accompany you to your apartment, the thought of another man being more suited for you making you feel like you were cheating. You only felt relieved when you talked about all his friends during the ride and he revealed that Hyunjin is "a bit of a player, y'know, he flirts with everyone and he has those french manners, but he's always been like this." so you thought that maybe your feelings would slowly fade… but they always, always rested down the bottom of your heart, even if you pushed them away forcefully, almost violently.

No one knows you two meet up from time to time now, because one time you found yourself crying in a corner on his shouler. No one knows that you always seem happy and carefree only because you talk with Hyunjin, because he comforts you when you need it without complaining. Not that it needs to be a secret, but you both are well aware that it may result suspicious to meet with your boyfriend's best friend late at night, best friend's girlfriend from his side.

And the fact that you two always seem to attract each other like magnets, so close, with instant connection, it doesn't let thoughts stray further from the idea of something tender existing between the two of you, everyone can see it.

It's just that it's prohibited. Or, to say it better, you were too caught in your lies to even contemplate the idea of leaving your boyfriend and Hyunjin simply didn't want to betray his "friend". But when you started to message him asking for advice, when you later had long calls together, when you crumbled in his arms crying almost weekly, he wasn't so sure about having a best friend anymore.

"I… you really think I was beautiful?"

Your question comes from the heart. The mixture of the memories of that night and his proximity makes heat rise on your face, shyness visible from the automatic action of your teeth catching your bottom lip and your gaze straying from his face to linger on the glass in your hands. The bubbles of the drink fizzle on the surface and for a moment or two that's all that can be heard in the room.

"You're always beautiful, y/n. I told you many times." he says cautiously, putting down everything to wrap his hands around your wrist.

"I don't know how he doesn't make you feel like you are, I don't know why he treats you like this but, petal, you're an incredible woman," he lowers his head to look into your eyes as he tries to explain himself further, "smart and strong. He's an asshole and you should stop doing this to yourself."

Does he know? Does he know what your boyfriend did? Probably not. Hyunjin would never hurt you, he would've immediately told you. You want to make sure though, in case everything that involves Hyunjin is a lie too.

"Why are you his friend then? Why do you keep coming to our house and have dinner as we fake not knowing each other like we really do? Why do you keep on hanging out with him? If you really think he's terribleー"

"Because I want to protect you."

His reply is fast, cutting you off. His stare bores into your eyes and drinks in all of your feelings, like he can see them displayed in front of him. A few seconds of silence fill the room and you suddenly gulp down your drink until the last drop, sprinting up from your seat and escaping his intoxicating presence that's almost engulfing you.

Hyunjin doesn't say a thing. He waits, he can sense that something big happened this time and fuck if he's going to kill his "friend" after this. You were never this silent, you usually would storm inside and throw yourself on him… for as much as he dislikes seeing you like this, he's grateful for your presence, for the feel of your body against his, the trust you put into him. He doesn't do all this just to be a rebound, he already knows part of him is yours and vice versa, so he's simply waiting. Everyone considers him being a romantic man, but really, he just believes in destiny. When Hyunjin first saw you every cell in his body started to boil, goosebumps rising down his nape, the world destroyed itself and was reborn before him, it's impossible that it didn't matter at all.. That was the day he realized he didn't know what "love" meant before.

He watches your silhouette get near the big windows that face the road, little droplets of water striking them. The sound of the rain reaches your ears only when you notice the detail, and soon you see how much water is actually coming down from the sky, your scarf already soaked and dirty laying alone between various cars. You take a deep breath, thinking about your next words, a way to tell Hyunjin what happened without sounding pathetic as you concentrate on the mesmerizing foliage outside, reds and oranges and yellows decorating the city landscape.

"He accidentally left his phone at home since he rushed to his office, I don't exactly know why…" you started to explain, hands fidgeting with your rings, heavy breath obstructing your throat, "and I heard a notification so I went to check right?"

Hyunjin slowly gets up and approaches you, his warmth radiating behind you now, hands resting on your shoulders and caressing them as he listens and slowly gets closer and closer until he's hugging you.

"So, petal? What was it about? Did you find porn?" he tries to guess, but when you shake your head as a 'no' a cold chill goes through his back. Oh, oh no…

"It… it was a message, a very sexual one, coming from a saved contact, I don't even remember the name." you pout, looking down almost in shame even if you're not the responsible one. Maybe it's the shame of having a cheater as a partner.

"I opened the chat Hyunie. They've been sexting for months and from what I could grasp they even met few times…" you can feel tears start to form on your waterline again, a deep ache inside your chest rises when you finally say it out loud. One thing was to acknowledge it, another was to tell everything to the man you've secretly been in love with for a year already. What were you doing exactly all this time?

"Am I really not good enough for anyone, Hyunie? She's… she's so different from me… Am I really a disaster as he says? Why would he do that to me? I've always been a good girlfriend, I even ignored all those mean words and his being immature and the shitty sex!! I put aside my needs to make him happy thinking I was the problem!" you turn around to face him and you're met with his serious expression.

You expected to find him at least slightly surprised by your sudden show of emotions, but he's calm, he radiates calmness. Hyunjin sighs and looks in the distance behind you for a second, blinking ever so slowly, his touch traveling up to cup your cheeks and wipe your angry tears with his thumbs.

That's the final stroke, the gesture that makes you sob and bury your face in his chest to hide.

You aren't broken yet, it's almost as if Hyunjin is physically holding you together. He's trying to smooth the new sharp edges that formed around your heart to not let it be isolated, while hugging you he's working hard to let it be still approachable to receive and give love, he's trying with all he has to prevent a horrible plague that's trying to approach you.

You hold his shirt between your hands, tightly, you're afraid you'll ruin it but you can't stop, you need to ground yourself and try to be strong, but it's so hard to not let him sway you around the room, lullying you as he hushes you and lets his fingers comb your messy hair.

"Leave him."

You freeze.

Did he really say that? Hyunjin never said it out loud. He did make you understand his vision about the situation, he did suggest it with hidden phrases, but so explicitly…

"It's time to let him go, don't you think?" he presses his lips on your forehead, continuing to mumble his real feelings, "You don't need someone who mistreats you petal. You deserve better." he closes them in a kiss that leaves a mark on your soul, making you gasp.

"Hyunjin?" it takes a lot of strength to look up at him. His eyes seem less gentle, brows forming a frown that's not his usual playful one, a bit scary even. The mole under his eye is contracted and his mouth is curved in disgust, just enough for you to understand he's furious.

"Why don’t we put an end to this farce? He didn't even deserve you in the first place, you don't love him, stop doing this to yourself y/n. There's someone who's the right one, for sure…" his tone is desperate, but you want him to say it clearly. You can't help it, if it's to be sure or to satisfy a need you've been having for a while you don't know, but you want him to say it loud and clear.

You know that if he says it now everything will change and it'll be scary as fuck, but if that's a premise for a better life… maybe it's not as scary as you think, it's Hyunjin after all, the man who's looking at you in adoration.

"And what man could possibly want me at this point?" your voice is shaky and uncertain as you tease the confession out of him.

Hyunjin looks away and smiles, a bit frustrated. He wipes another tear away from your cheek and then places his hands on your waist.

"Me?" he fakes the question, smiling softly; "Be mine y/n."

Breath gets caught in your throat as he finally says it. It's wrong that you waited for it, it's wrong that your first instinct is to say yes without thinking about it.

"Hyunjin Iー"

"Ooh don't say you don't reciprocate, petal. I know you too well." he interrupts you, his hold a little tighter. Hyunjin tilts his head to the side, few strands of black raven hair following the motion and slightly covering his eyes. He's beautiful now, even more than in any other moment you've ever been with him. Hyunjin is the most beautiful man in the world and he wants you.

Your phone starts ringing. It's a strange moment to realize your ringtone is kind of cringe, cutting the tension weirdly… but you can't laugh, not right now. Both you and Hyunjin know who it is.

He's right. You should put an end to all this and start to think for yourself, about what you really want, need. This is not wrong. To love yourself isn't wrong, and Hyunjin makes you feel like the person you want to be.

"Do you want to pick up?" Hyunjin takes his hand under your chin again and directs it up to make your eyes meet his, gaze frenetic as he tries to not look at your tempting lips. Everything will depend on what you decide now. And you think quickly, under pressure, and you don't know if it's a good idea or not but you shake your head and hold him tighter, hiding again.

"Y/n, please look at me…"

The phone eventually stops ringing and silence overwhelms you when you can hear his fast heartbeat right against your ear. And it's because of you, it's for you, your heart starts to adapt to his and you almost feel pain in your chest. It's too much, too much…

Ah, that's it.

You get on your tiptoes to pull him down by his collar and make your lips crash together.

Hyunjin drags you towards him as if you kissed thousands of times before, immediately, tongue slipping into your mouth as you grant him access, making it run along yours. You hold his shoulders trying to search for your lost balance and he's quick to walk you towards his bedroom, he isn't even slightly hesitant.

The desperate sighs you two let out add into the sound of your first kiss; it's a relief, something you didn't imagine to need so badly. Hyunjin pushes you further into the room until your legs meet the mattress and you fall on it guided by him, a knee starting to press beside you as he cradles on the bed on top of you. He can't stop kissing you.

Hyunjin clumsily reaches the lamp on the nightstand to turn it on and oh, oh if this is even better than any fantasy he's ever had… seeing you panting with that flustered expression, your legs already crossing beneath him, jumper half lifted up, your hair all disheveled since you quickly reached for your clip and threw it somewhere in the room. You just look breathtaking in his eyes, even more than any other moment he's ever thought about it. He has to let you know. You didn't think he'd turn on the light but maybe you can put aside your shyness for once if it means having this type of gaze reserved to you.

Your hands try to reach his shirt to pull him out of his trance and he resumes his kissing, hands flying on your sides as they slowly, painfully slowly slide down until he's hooking your pants. Hyunjin lowers down to press chaste kisses on the little part of your cleavage that is exposed, going down to your stomach, then your belly, until he darts his tongue out to lick a stripe just above your groin, leaving a longer kiss there while he proceeds to undress you.

The way you feel embarrassed when you remember you're wearing plain, white cotton panties… but it's honestly sending him haywire. The fact that you didn't expect to end up like this, a confirmation that you didn't plan anything to happen, it's making Hyunjin even harder in his confines. You're so wet your juices dampened the fabric, making it almost transparent, and he sighs at the faint outline of your cunt now puffy and pulsing… and he still has to touch you properly.

Hyunjin is honestly the same. You can't see it but waves of excitement run over him so violently he physically trembles and his legs give in from time to time.

“I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't dare to come back to him…” it's whisperes, almost as if he's accidentally thinking out loud but it makes you clench. Hyunjin's fingers start to tease you on top of the fabric, seeing the wet patch getting larger and larger. You can't believe this part of him exists… how many things do you still have to learn about him?

Hyunjin keeps on touching you there but this time he starts flicking, snapping his fingers where you're most sensitive, the tingles that start to make you jolt are strong and they make your breath sharp.

“H-Hyunjin…” your stuttering voice slightly higher as you call for him, he rolls his eyes back.

“Hyunjin please…” you can't help but pant, wrapping your hand around his forearm to try and make him slow down. Is this what those stupid magazines talked about? That sex feels better when you do it with someone you love? So fucking true.

Hyunjin feels on cloud nine. He starts paying attention on your neck tenderly but still with open-mouthed kisses as his fingers subtly slide your panties to the side. “Yeah petal, let me hear you, let me…” his words get lost as he concentrates. Ah, it's uncomfy for him. Hyunjin lifts your legs and carelessly slides your underwear off with a hiss, his eyes closing like they've been blinded by the vision of the Virgin Mary for a second, then maniacally staring at your bare cunt, digits caressing your wet folds mere seconds before plunging into your entrance.

You can only let out a choked moan and push your head back onto his soft cushions, that smells just like him. You're completely surrounded by his presence when his scent is all around you, his fingers move smoothly to work you open and his mouth is now latched around your nipple, his forehead pushing your jumper further up. When the hell did he…

“Is it good?” his voice displaying signs of fatigue, urgency and need buried deep inside him. You know his fingers are long but God if they can reach otherworldly places. It's not the in-and-out motion but the brushing of your g-spot that makes your legs close around his sides and poke his ribcage with your knees; he doesn't mind, your tits keep him occupied enough to make him mindlessly keep going. Hyunjin decides that prefers your chest covered in love marks over any art piece he's ever seen these past years, so nothing can disturb his work in progress. Maybe the work itself.

“‘S good Hyunie, Hyun…” it's difficult to breathe, it's difficult to think straight as the bumps of his fingers touch your insides so precisely, as if you've always done this and he already knew your body by memory.

“Did his fingers ever make you feel like this? Hm?”

The question makes you sigh along with a moan. You shake your head.

“Did he ever kiss you like I do?” and Hyunjin kisses you again as the movement of his fingers fastens. His teeth catch your bottom lip and his tongue slides against yours before he sucks it, drool making it shine where you two meet; passionate and euphoric, it feels like experimenting fireworks. You follow his lips when he detaches, but he just smiles and starts pressing his thumb on your bare clit. “Tell me, petal.”

“N-no…”

Hyunjin feels it, the way you start clenching around him, hard. He almost can't move anymore. So he whispers, just above the squelching of his palm spreading your wetness.

“Wanna go to Heaven with me, y/n?”

How, how can you say no? You need Hyunjin, even more than oxygen right now, he already has you completely. Your hands hurry on the button somehow miraculously keeping his pants together, and you reach his zip and pull the fly, that struggles to slide down ー he's too full.

“Wanna try how a real man makes you feel?”

You nod almost too eagerly and he chuckles within a whiffle. Hyunjin deprives you of his fingers despite your whines of protest and spreads your juices all over his face, tongue swirling on his hand. A low groan comes out from him, his touch moving to your hips where he squeezes, plush skin bending under his grip. It's all in contrast with the look in his eyes as he stares at your face, your reactions, as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

You're so distracted that when you feel something poke your inner thigh you gasp, and can only stare… his cock springs free from his confines altogether, long, slim and leaking, underside vein pulsating under the pads of his fingers as he pumps himself few times, precum dripping on your groin. Hyunjin's eyebrows are knitted together as he grinds between your legs, his still sticky hand moving your lower body closer so that he lifts you back up to wrap his arms around you, hugging you ever so gently.

His full lips kiss your cleavage and he curses under his breath because of his choice to not take all your clothes off but there's not much time anymore. You close your fists on his shirt, the lines of the fabric changing their shape under your hold while you wait for him, subtly writhing impatiently.

“Hyun please hurry…” not once in your life you've been this desperate for a man to fuck you. It's not because of the wait, not because you're horny, it's just that it's Hyunjin.

“Say it.” his eyes are darker, but they shine with the yellow-ish light in the room. He clears your forehead by adjusting your hair away.

You know what he's doing and it's nothing different from what you did before, in the living room, so you're more than willing to satisfy his request. You try to regain a bit of composure and steady your breath before speaking up, his head twitching together with every movement of yours.

"I want you, Hyunjin. I want you, please.”

A big bright smile spreads on his face as his head drops low, in disbelief. Hyunjin didn't imagine those words would have such a strong effect on him but here he is, blushing and trying to hold back a giggle. When he looks back at you he's serious again, eyes piercing into yours.

“I'm going in, hm? I wanna hear you scream my name through it all. Is that clear petal?”

What you'd give to hear him call you petal until the end of time, he says it and it's like dripping honey, he says it and you melt. The warm pool of pleasure in your belly tightens again as you say a shaky “yes”. You're his delicate, fragile petal.

His tip rests just before your entrance for a second while he takes a deep breath, breaching you gently. It's not a big stretch but his veins are already making your eyelids flutter and your lips part. Inch by inch, Hyunjin makes sure you feel his cock going deep, concern showing on your features as he doesn't come to an halt. He does, eventually, but the time he took to do it seemed eternal. “Oh my- Hyunie-”

“Bet my dick feels better than his,” he smirks between the kisses he's leaving under your jawline, “I bet mine's longer too.”

His comments only add fuel to the fire. He's bigger, he's better, the curve of his cock lands exactly on the spot that makes you black out. As you remember that you're technically still in a relationship your phone rings again. It's a distant sound, it's in another room, covered by yours and Hyunjin's sighs and moans, but he hears it too. Hyunjin stops every movement, hips against yours as he's fully inside you. He lifts himself up just enough to check on you. You look at him too.

You don't exchange any word, there's no need to, because you both arch your lips upwards and meet mid-air for another kiss, tender but messy as he moves backwards to get a starting point to his thrusts. The ringtone eventually dies making room to the faint dripping of the rain outside.

You feel warm, squeezing his cock just right and he's sure he will never let you go, never let you change your mind.

“Pussy ‘s so tight petal, was made for me, ‘m sure,” and he starts moving with consistency, picking up a pleasant rhythm, “you're so fucking perfect.”

His necklace is cold against your skin as he keeps on holding you flush against him, as well as your rings leaving icy lines on his back when your hands slip under his shirt and hold onto his shoulder blades. Hyunjin throbs inside you, drawing loud moans out of you that someone will for sure complain about. He thrusts harder, faster, every second that passes and you can only call for his name, yours being whispered by him against your skin making you shiver.

“Waited so long, so fucking long-” a guttural sound interrupting him, “since that time at the club, wanted to make you mine.” he mumbles, words hardly making sense but you decipher them anyway and when you realize what he's talking about the confused memories of it flood your mind. You, swaying your hips in front of him, grinding your ass on his crotch following the music; Hyunjin's hands right under your breasts guiding you together with him, his breath fanning on your neck, drying your tears completely as those three drinks made your head light enough to not care about any problem you complained about minutes before. It was just you and Hyunjin, all this would've happened sooner if a series of coincidences didn't happen.

“You would've let me take you in the bathroom, isn't that right?” Hyunjin asks, not losing concentration even for a second. “I wanted to bring you here, and fuck the sadness away. Every time, y/n, I wanted to tell you to forget him and be with me.”

You feel him stretch his arm between your bodies, and you feel your swollen bud stimulated again, you both whine against each other.

“‘M with you now Hyunie, want only you, ‘m yours babe.”

He's so fast now, the snapping of his hips moving you up and down the mattress… your words affect him on a visceral level.

“I choose you, I'll leave him for you-”

“Fuck!” he's close, so, so close and your walls tightening more and more and more are making him go crazy. Little beads of sweat decorate his forehead, a caramel-like smell coming from him as the crown of his head dampens and some hair stick to his forehead.

His tip keeps abusing your sweet spot, the kiss you share is feverish, your nails dig into his skin and his hold bruises your soft one. Both your bellies contract and before you can process it you're coming, white pois pattern creating over your blinding vision. You say his name out loud, dragging it together with your last moan as the hardest orgasm ever washes over you. Hyunjin pulls out just in time, copious white ropes of cum landing on your stomach like dripping art. Hyunjin loses track of space and time for a few moments as he comes down from his high, then takes you close to him when he lays next to you. Your heavy breath fills every other sound in your ears as you get comfortable hiding in his muscular chest. Your body spasms, all energy left your body already and your chest rises and falls frantically.

Hyunjin caresses your cheek and kisses your hair. It's peaceful. You just had sex with your boyfriend's best friend and it feels peaceful. It starts to feel a bit cold so he grabs the soft sheets near him and covers both of you.

“When will you tell him, petal?”

The question floats in the air for a while. You start playing with his necklace, making it dance between your fingers. He starts to worry a bit, when you don't answer him, but he decides to be patient, like always.

“After we eat something, I'll send him a text.” you seem resolute, and he's convinced. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He's a bit taken aback, his eyes narrowing in surprise: “Wasn't it obvious? You'll stay here from now on anyway.” and he says it so naturally, you think he's thought about this moment a lot… it makes you smile.

Hyunjin rolls to the side briefly, taking some tissues to wipe yours and his stomach since his sticky cum was still there, and kisses the tip of your nose adjusting your jumper back to its original place before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his phone, after finally freeing himself of his shirt. His back is slender yet defined, long, his spine making a beautiful curve. Your eyes travel from his nape to his glutes, the ones of a dancer. There's a doubt still in the back of your mind, you need to make it disappear.

“Are you… sad, that you can't be friends with him anymore?”

He doesn't even bother looking at you to answer, he keeps scrolling on the delivery app searching for something you may want to eat, the words he's about to say seeming obvious to him.

“We haven't been friends for a while already. I understood he's not the guy I met years ago, he changed, and I don't like to be around him anymore. Don't worry petal, it's not entirely because of you, I already wanted to part from him but you came into our lives so I endured it some more to stay with you… and it was worth it.” one of his hands shifts position behind him and taps the covers to signal for you to hold it. Your fingers interlace and he looks at you over his shoulder, slowly turning around, his body twisting slightly as he leans back again and kisses you sweetly yet still with some need.

Your breath is now steady, you're relaxed and it feels like Heaven, just like he promised.

"Pizza?"

You giggle and he follows.

“I love you y/n. I love you.”

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x fem reader #hwang hyunjin fanfic #hwang hyunjin drabbld #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut

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suhomylife · 6 months

Text

It is a wet dream fuel indeed!

Beautiful? Oh this solely makes me aroused but with that brat behavior? Hyunjin with a fat crush testing the waters and telling he’ll do anything for me? Gosh, I desperately need this specific Hyunjin in my life!!!! If god or the universe is out there taking requests, PLEASE!

I loved every second of this story. Even though it was a one shot, I managed to live through it fully. The talks, the plot and the smut are written so beautifully it honestly makes me wanna cry. I love your work so much, Ren. You write about my to beloved boys absolutely fantastically. Thank you for what you do, I cherish it a lot!

⚝ Hide The Scissors

⚝ Hyunjin x (afab) Reader ⚝ Secret crush shenanigans ⚝ 2.1k ⚝ Stories published on this blog are not exhaustively tagged for their entire content to prevent spoilers. Proceed at your own risk.

❥ Hyunjin makes a declaration about his hair that does not sit well with you.

“The HECK you mean you’re gonna get a haircut?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin shrugged while pouring some more wine, “Felt like a change. What’s the big deal?”

“What’s the bi– WHAT’S the big deal?!” you shrieked and almost slammed the glass on the coffee table, “You know how much I like playing with it!”

“So?”

sAuR? Whenever he used that judgmental cunt voice of his, you knew he was out to annoy you as much as he could for his personal entertainment. The million-dollar question was, were you going to indulge him?

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t remember asking for permission from you.”

Not only was he not caving, but he also started pushing it, which was the telltale sign that he wanted to argue. Maybe fuck that bottle you already downed a little bit because your quick wit was nowhere to be found. He wanted to dance? Oh, you could dance. You could fucking dance circles around him.

“You see this, Hwang?” you grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer of your coffee table and dangled it in front of his eyes, “I’ll fucking cut all your clothes off before it touches that silk you’re growing on your head.”

“That’s so cute. I’d like to see you try.”

He refilled his glass with an unbothered smile, knowing damn well he was about to hit that dangerous threshold. In his defense, Hyunjin only ever pushed your buttons because he thought it was cute, but you couldn’t help but think that he was after something different that night.

“Don’t force it. I’ll do it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he took a huge sip from his glass, “It’s not like I’m not familiar with your ‘all talk no play’ agenda.”

“What did you just say to me?”

As soon as his glass touched the coffee table, you unleashed yourself on him to straddle him and grabbed him by his collar, shooting menacing looks to pierce his face. It took Hyunjin by complete surprise because his teasing only ever elicited some snarky remarks from you, which he enjoyed very much.

Not… this.

“W-what are you doi—?”

“All talk no play, huh?” you cocked your brows and tangled your fingers in his hair, “I said absolutely…”

…and you tugged on it as hard as you could.

“...not.”

His reaction took you by complete surprise because you were expecting a sharp hiss indicative of pain and an admission of defeat.

Not… a moan to accompany that. A very delicious one at that. Something you’d never heard before.

“You… like that?” you tilted your head, looking at him with genuine curiosity.

Shit.

There was no point in trying to deny it. Even if he said no, Hyunjin getting concerningly hard under you was going to snitch on him anyway.

“I like a lot of things about you, beautiful.”

Beautiful.

Since when?!

Nobody was saying a word, but the suspense was clearly killing both of you. He was looking at you afraid to breathe easy and pull you back into reality. You were looking at him getting blasted with too many details you had never noticed before. The little mole under his eye. How the tip of his ears was beet red. How deep his eyes were. The shape of his full lips. You’d never even realized how fucking sexy they were, and now that you had, it was impossible not to wonder what they would feel like. In your mouth. On your skin. Around your clit.

Noticing how intently you were staring at the peach-colored flesh adorning his beautiful face, Hyunjin made a move to kiss you, but you slapped his hand off with whatever ounce of sanity you possessed.

“Don’t… even… think about it.”

You slithered your hand down the hem of his white t-shirt and peeled it off him. It took an insane amount of willpower to hide how much of a salivating sight it was. Then you started running the pair of scissors down his torso. The cold metal was breaking out goosebumps all over his body, but instead of getting scared, Hyunjin was getting excited, and it was painfully apparent in how hard he was getting under his jeans. You slowly descended between his legs to unbutton them while still holding his gaze, and when you did, he examined your face with big curious eyes to deduce what you were really thinking about what you saw.

“Looks expensive,” you dragged the scissors around the waistband of his boxers and looked up at him again, “Have you ever considered modeling for this brand?”

All you did was ghost your hand over his bulge and thighs, fully aware of what you were stirring in him. Hyunjin was holding his breath for who knows how long, and the more you deprived him of your touch, the more worked up he was getting.

“Please,” he eventually couldn’t help the desperate-sounding plea, “Don’t– don’t tease me anymore.”

“Oh, but I will,” you pouted your lips in disapproval, “I’ll do whatever the hell I want and you’re gonna fucking like it.”

You stretched the fabric of his boxers hugging his clenched left thigh and started cutting it. Slowly. Carefully. To expose him to your carnal gaze fully and appreciate him in all his glory.

If only you knew how many times Hyunjin fantasized about your lips wrapped around his cock to give him the most violent orgasm of his entire life…

“You’re a bit too beautiful,” you declared taking in the mesmerizing sight in front of you, “It fucking gets on my nerves.”

“You must be getting on your own nerves a lot, then.”

Who the absolute fuck did this arrogant prick think he was to cross you when you were holding a pair goddamn scissors in your hands? Without even thinking about it, you sunk your teeth into his thighs to take a juicy bite from them.

“FUCK!”

“Don’t talk back to me or I’ll bruise you.”

Hyunjin was unfazed. After the initial sting evaporated, he annoyingly chuckled.

“You really don’t know me, do you?”

As a matter of fact, you didn’t. Prior to that night, you weren’t even aware you were capable of seeing Hyunjin that way. You climbed on top of him again and threw your arms around his neck.

“So you want to be bruised.”

“More like I wanna carry your hickeys as a fucking tattoo,” he wrapped his hands around your waist, “Go on. Mark me, beautiful.”

Well, he was the one asking for it, so although a part of you was yelling at you to not give him what he wanted, you opted for listening to the part that told you to go full rabid. You sucked on his neck while grinding on his bulge, and you could clearly feel him throb under you in absolute ecstasy. Hyunjin simply couldn’t believe his wildest dreams were unfolding before his eyes, but the constant friction along with the wetness on his skin was becoming too much for him to handle.

“If you– if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum.”

“No,” you firmly asserted, “You’re going to hold it.”

“Please.”

“I told you not to test me, didn’t I?”

“Please.”

“You brought this on yourself, Hwang,” you maniacally laughed, “Admit it. How long have you wanted this?”

“Since we went on that camping trip.”

You abruptly stopped and faced him. You couldn’t have possibly heard that right.

“That was like a year ago.”

“I know,” Hyunjin shamelessly grinned, “Took you long enough.”

There it was again. His fucking arrogant shade riling you up to no end. You shoved your fingers in his mouth with the intention of shutting him up, but the way he swirled his tongue around them was a little too satisfying.

“Do you touch yourself to me at all?”

“Concerningly frequently,” he almost whispered, “I can’t help it.”

“What’s your go-to scenario?”

“You sitting on my face.”

“You cum to pleasuring me?”

Hyunjin grinned at your surprised expression. Why yes, he came to the thought of pleasuring you because had you fucking seen yourself?

“I just know you taste too fucking good, especially if I’m making you wet.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You got off his lap and pulled him on top of you as you laid down on your couch.

“Are you just gonna run that mouth, or are you gonna show me?”

He would. Of course he would. You may not have been aware of it, but he would die for you if you asked. Your wish was his command. Hyunjin rid you of your jeans and made himself comfortable between your legs because that was what he was meant to do all along. One breath of his against your skin. One flick of his tongue against your wetness. One moan he shoved into your folds.

“Hyunjin!”

You kept stroking his hair that you loved so much as he devoured you. You kept riding his gorgeous face every time you felt his tongue swipe against your clit. Once. Twice. Thrice. Faster and faster to push you into six feet under the depths of pleasure.

“Keep doing that! FUCK!!!”

His content hums against your soaking cunt felt way better than any aphrodisiac possibly could. Just moments ago, you would never even dream of this, but there you were, chasing your high against the tongue of Hwang fucking Hyunjin, the most beautiful thing to have ever existed.

One.

Two.

Three.

You exploded in his mouth. And he was more than happy to have the privilege of knowing what your cum tasted like.

“So wet,” he faintly chuckled staring at your throbbing hole, “I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“You can if you ask nicely,” you flashed a fucked out smile.

“You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything,” Hyunjin resolutely responded, “Just name it.”

An open cheque. All the things you could possibly imagine could come true right that very second. And out of all the things you could have asked, you told him to…

“Kiss me.”

To say that he was surprised was an understatement. Hyunjin was endeared. Enamored. Bursting with affection towards you. He locked his perfect lips with yours and kissed you like you’d never been kissed before. Like he was trying to quench his thirst.

And by god, you tasted so fucking good on his lips.

“Let me feel you inside,” you wrapped your legs around his waist. He didn’t have you repeat it twice and quickly aligned himself with your entrance to sink into you.

“Oh, fuck me!”

“Feels good?”

“Too good,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “God, what are you doing to me?”

You were simply so beautiful to Hyunjin, driving him absolutely crazy. Impossible to resist. There was no way you were real. This still felt like a fever dream to him. He was about to die; there was no other explanation. He was sweating over you, panting, moaning, just basking in your warmth for whatever amount of time he had left in this world, just making you feel good. His moans were getting dangerously louder, and you knew he was about to let go.

“Just look at me,” you grabbed his face, “Look into my eyes when you cum.”

He wished you hadn’t said that. Catching glimpses of you all this time when he knew he would never be able to have you was torture enough for him. He was only ever able to touch you in his wildest dreams, but now you were right here, moaning and writhing under him, telling him to cum looking at you.

And when you grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged on it with all your might, he had no choice but to soak you from wall to wall while violently convulsing over your body. You let him ride it out. You let him collapse on your chest. You kissed his hair that you loved so much while he caught his breath.

“Actually, you know what, do get the haircut,” you brushed the stray strands behind his ear, “I kinda wanna see what it looks like when you dye it blue.”

“I know what it’s gonna look like,” Hyunjin lazily smiled against your chest.

“Which is?”

Hyunjin looked up at you with the minuscule amount of strength he had and glued his lips against yours, stealing every single kiss he possibly could.

“It’s gonna be your wet dream fuel, beautiful.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

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#hyunjin smut #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x y/n

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suhomylife · 6 months

Text

The moment I saw the DLMLU chapter out I was so excited I couldn’t even start reading for a week. The moment I reached the plot twist….my heart god scattered into million pieces. Ohhhh I can’t believe this bitch did it, I’m fuming and want to punch walls.

And I’m so fucking curious about this aunt thing and what does the descaler has to do with it all. I really hope no one gets harmed in the following parts.

I am once again amazed by your writing and how you manage to create the picture so real it is almost palpable. The way you write Chris is an absolute love and pleasure. Thank a million!

⚝ Don't Let Me Love You | Chapter 4

EMOTION ⚝ 5.6k ⚝ Tagging: Only accepted through form. See here. ⚝ Stories published on this blog are not exhaustively tagged for their entire content to prevent spoilers. Proceed at your own risk. — Foodplay(ish—it involves champagne), public sex, possessive language.

“When you said ‘let’s go away this weekend’, I imagined some Vermont shit,” you flashed a satisfied smile as you settled down on the passenger seat of the rental, “This is honestly way better.”

Chris looked at you with sheer endearment in his eyes and stole a kiss from your lips before starting the car, which positively startled you.

“What was that for?”

“No reason. Seeing you happy gets me horny a little,” he shrugged and turned the key.

You were both fully aware that this was just a stolen weekend, but neither of you could care less. You had a little over 48 hours to be an actual couple, walking hand in hand, doing all that disgustingly wholesome shit whenever the fancy struck.

Then again, who the heck would want to be wholesome in Las fucking Vegas?

The room you were supposed to stay in was spacious enough to escape the suffocation of your mundane. A suite on the 31st floor with a high ceiling and marble floors, huge windows instead of walls overlooking the fantastic city view. There was a gigantic bed that could comfortably accommodate at least four people as well as a cavernous tub to the left side of the room, only a tinge shy from earning a hot tub title. All picked out to provide a relaxing stay.

Yet, the second you stepped foot into that place…

“Take this off. Off!”

You started ripping each other’s clothes off, tearing a few stitches and buttons here and there courtesy of your impatience. Chris had already managed to get you fully naked in the time you were only able to take his shirt off. The way he looked like a hot stripper moonlighting in Vegas with only his jeans on made you chuckle. He tried his best not to just throw you on the bed due to sheer enthusiasm, but the way your back hit the soft mattress was still a bit harsh. You watched him crawl between your legs like a hungry predator, movements suddenly too calm compared to the carnal lust exuding off of him.

“I’m starving all of a sudden.”

You anticipated that he would dive right in, but he pumped the breaks at the very last second. All you felt on your clit was a delicate kiss, way too innocent for the heat of the moment. Maddeningly slow. No fervent flicks of his tongue to combust you on the spot. Not even a perceptible pressure of his lips on your cunt. He had literally managed to lure you into your own torture, and when you attempted to move closer to his face, Chris pushed his hands down to lock you in place like a deadbolt.

“Shh, what do I always say to you? Behave,” he spoke with a hint of sternness, “Don’t be greedy. Let me have my fun for a bit.”

It would be preferable if he wasn’t speaking right in front of your sopping wet pussy maybe. He was only talking, but even the faint vibrations of his soundwaves worked on you like pleasurable assault weapons.

“Once,” you writhed under him, “Just lick me once.”

“Just once?” he chuckled, “And then you’re going to stop begging?”

“I’m about to smack the shit out of you, Christopher!” you wriggled to escape his grip very much in vain.

You didn’t find the situation even remotely funny since you were the one on the receiving end of the denial, but his teasing giggles turned into loud peals of laughter echoing in the room. They caressed you. Edging you, teasing you until you broke, keeping your arousal levels criminally high… That was Chris’ favorite thing to do.

Because by the end of it, whatever I do, you cum so fucking hard.

“I’d like to see you try,” he kissed right above your clit, “You know you’re not intimidating me when you call me by my government name, right? It turns me on bad.”

“Do you have a fucking death wish?!”

“Yes,” he stared right into your eyes, “To fly to the stars with you.”

When he finally smeared his lips all over with your slick, little jolts of electricity started spreading throughout your body. The intensity of the pleasure rose like a tidal wave soon to wash over you, and you found yourself grabbing fistfuls of the bedsheets you were about to soak, breathing all erratic like you were running for your life.

There weren’t many things Chris enjoyed as much as seeing how much he was able to ascend his girl.

“I love you,” he quietly mumbled into you, “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else.”

You felt a sudden rush of pinkish feelings invade the void in your chest and declare instant sovereignty there. It manifested as an endeared smile on your lips. Chris’ grip on your thighs loosened and became gentle caresses as he closed his eyes, licking you to his heart’s content while serenading you with the softest moans. Just tasting you. His most favored flavor in the world. For the umpteenth time but still with the zeal of tasting you for the first time all over again. You let go of the sheets and tangled your fingers in his hair, stroking his locks with a lot more adoration than lust. It was only a matter of seconds before you squeezed his shoulders to signal him to come up for you were overcome with the craving to feel his lips on yours.

Just looking at Chris was utterly overwhelming at times. His gorgeousness aside, he made you feel such strong and unfamiliar things that it was scary. It was terrifying when the urge to run to the nearest rooftop and scream his name crept in for no reason at all. It was the most beautiful nightmare every time he touched you, kissed you, possessed your entire being just with a smile. Now add the fact that his half-naked body was hovering over yours, his allegiance to you literally carved on his skin, sharing your taste with you like he was savoring that last strawberry in a champagne flute.

I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else because I’ve never loved anyone before you.

You unbuckled his belt and helped him get rid of his jeans, but when he made an attempt to settle in between your legs….

“Not yet.”

You got up from the bed and dragged him towards the tub in front of the window with slow steps and sat by the edge of it.

“There should be champagne somewhere around here, no?” you asked while turning the faucet on.

As the tub was getting filled slowly, you got inside and on your knees, watching Chris look for the bottle with your elbows resting on the porcelain edge.

“Cover your ears,” he urged right before he was about to pop the bottle next to you.

He had shaken the bottle so much that almost half the content gushed out, several drops trickling down to his elbows as he downed the bubbly drink straight from the bottle.

“Come.”

You put your hands on his waist and pulled him close, placing the chastest kisses on his torso, but it quickly surrendered itself to desire. Your tongue started traveling all over his abs, and you couldn’t help the urge to graze your teeth on them. You wanted to torture Chris the way he tortured you. You wanted to worship him maddeningly slowly, but he was just so damn beautiful to keep your hands to yourself. Every time your lips met his skin, he heaved deep sighs, causing his grip around the neck of the bottle to inadvertently loosen a little.

“Now give me a sip,” you nodded towards the Dom Perignon, and it extracted a big grin out of him when you stuck your tongue out like that. On your knees.

Waiting.

Chris started pouring the champagne down his torso, and you watch the way it cascaded down his cock and into your mouth. The only correct way to serve the sexiest drink ever. From the body of the sexiest man alive. Not long after, you closed your lips around his thick girth, and Chris’ silent hisses transformed into extended moans as he was getting harder and harder in your mouth. Your hands on his lower back. His hands in your hair. Wanting more. And more.

And so much more.

“Get in here.”

He placed the champagne bottle on the marble floor and climbed inside the tub with you, only halfway full but still enough to submerge both your bodies when Chris pulled you close to press your back on his chest. Being in his embrace was the coziest thing.

It felt like home.

You momentarily felt his lips on the side of your neck, and his hand reached between your legs to lazily rub your clit. It was the most paradoxical thing the way it relaxed you and tensed you the fuck up at the same time. When you grabbed his nape and started wriggling in your place, the delightful notes of his chuckle hit your eardrums again.

“I’m frustrating you, aren’t I?” he nibbled on your earlobe.

The shower nozzle wrapped around the faucet entered your vision upon a clanking sound. You relaxed into Chris’ chest completely when he brought the gushing warm water right in front of your clit.

“Oh, fuck, that’s the stuff,” you tangled your fingers with his and enjoyed the sensation.

“Feels good, right?” he kept sloppily kissing your neck while playing with your nipples with his idle hand, “How’s the pressure, baby?”

“Will be perfect once you’re inside me.”

“Then close your eyes,” he prodded your entrance underwater and started to languidly thrust into you, “Let me love you to death.”

You let go.

Honestly? It wouldn’t be the worst way to depart this cruel world.

Overdosing on bliss in the arms of the love of your life.

Sundays were the most hated days of the week for Chris, but it had nothing to do with the looming Monday. He had a unique condition called grocery blues courtesy of Casey dragging him to the local discount retailer every damn week solely to stage a scene of ‘Look how happy we are, everybody!’ It was a bit of a struggle to keep a convincing mask on during the very first few times, but with practice, he indeed managed to perfect the façade of a happy family man.

His list that day included some cleaning supplies for his garage. When he saw a familiar brand, Chris remembered it was the same descaler the cleaning crew in his clinic used. The second Casey made eye contact with the product, however, she intervened with utter panic.

“NO!”

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Chris looked at her frantic eyes.

“That’s so dangerous, Chrissy! Do you even know what would happen to your beautiful face if one drop of this touched your skin?” she caressed her husband’s face whereas Chris flinched with mild disgust. Then she ran off like a moth distracted by the faintest hints of a flame.

“Oh my god Melissa, hi!”

Taking advantage of her disappearance, Chris rolled the cart towards the personal hygiene aisle to look for some shaving cream. He couldn’t help smiling to himself when his eyes landed a bottle of lube on the shelf.

We would go through this in one night.

And go through it, you did.

The weeks following your return from Vegas were spent sneaking around with Chris in hotel rooms. The thrill was nothing short of heroin, especially when the danger of getting caught was present. You would steal casual touches and whiffs from each other when you ran into one another very much on purpose during a morning jog. He would either grab your ass or stand right behind you at a supermarket line just so you could feel how hard he was. You were keeping regular appointments at his clinic to get a tattoo that didn’t exist removed, which was code for ‘Come over, I wanna eat your pussy’.

It may have been the paranoia sinking in, but you started to feel like something had shifted in the way Casey treated you. You would only run into each other as you were leaving or coming back home, but her usual bubbliness seemed to have faded a little. Did she see something maybe? Did she hear something? But that couldn’t be the case, right? It wasn’t like you were meeting Chris at the downtown Double Tree or anything.

“FINALLY the treatment I deserve, fucking christ!” Minho made a dramatic entrance into your house while dragging his suitcase.

“Don’t get used to it,” you urged him while shooting a three-pointer into your key bowl.

Keep the man you love close, his psychotic wife closer. That was how Minho temporarily moved in with you as your pretend boyfriend.

And as if someone was keeping a close watch on the visitors of your place, your doorbell went off before Minho could finish his glass of water in the kitchen.

“Hi Casey,” you faked the most convincing smile ever.

“Hey! I was looking for you all over to invite you to our club fundraiser, but you’re nowhere to be found nowadays,” she pouted with a disgustingly sweet voice, then instantaneously switched to day mode again, “Also I wanted to give you this!”

She was holding a neatly wrapped gift peeking from a Givenchy bag. You didn’t expect whatever this was to be this heavy, almost like an iron bat, and when you opened the package…

“You got me… a huge ashtray,” you declared somewhat confused.

“It’s a genuine antique ashtray from the ‘80s. I thought I could contribute to your interior decoration,” she pointed at the anthracite piece, “I remember seeing you smoking. Now you can think of me every time you take a drag!”

She was flashing that bubblegum smile at you alright, but there was something glinting in her eyes. Dare you say fucking psychotic.

“Well, thank you for the gift, Casey. You really didn’t have to,” you put the ashtray back into the bag.

“My ab–so–lute pleasure,” she emphasized each syllable, “So you’ll come to the fundraiser, right? It’s this Saturday. A black tie event.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“But there is someone that reaaaally wants to meet you,” she poked your shoulder with a singsongy voice. You were trying to come up with a quick way to repel her when your savior finally appeared.

“We got company, babe?” Minho interrupted the exchange of these fake-as-hell pleasantries and wrapped his arm around your waist while pecking your cheek. You could literally see how Casey’s facial features changed in real time as if you told her a nuclear war was going to break out tomorrow.

“This is my boyfriend, Minho,” you introduced the never-before-seen stranger to your neighbor, “And this is Casey.”

“Oh, WOW!” she exclaimed in an exaggerated but genuinely surprised tone and pointed at the almost nonexistent space between you two, “I had no idea! How long has this been going on?”

“Since forever, actually,” Minho pulled you even closer to himself, “You could say we’ve reconnected. She’s an old flame.”

“Good for you! I told you your soulmate was right around the corner, right?” she landed a smack on your forearm, “Turns out he was waiting at the previous corners of your life, huh?”

“Well, sorry to interrupt you ladies, but we’re having a lime problem and I’m too lazy to run to the store,” Minho interjected as you were doing your best to refrain from slapping Casey into oblivion with a forced smile, “Do you have any descaler by any chance?”

It was so obvious Casey found the mention of the material disturbing as hell since her eyes were screaming dread.

“De-Descaler?”

“Mhm. The maximum strength one if you have any available. That shit always does the trick in one go.”

“I don’t bring that thing into my house,” she responded to Minho with a deadpan voice and turned to you again with her usual chirpiness, “Please come to the fundraiser on Saturday. There will be a big surprise. Toodles!”

As you both watched Casey leave, you slowly closed the door and looked at Minho with absolute puzzlement.

“Descaler?” you creased your brows, “What the fuck was that?”

The contentment on his face, on the other hand, was palpable.

“A reminder that she should watch herself around me.”

Despite your endless protests, Minho managed to persuade you to attend the event you now dubbed Barbie Met Gala. He argued this was the opportunity to make a public debut together so that the rich suburbia asshats would be convinced that you two were an item. He even took you out shopping to splurge several of his retainer fees on you because you both needed to, quote, ‘look like the second coming of Mr. and Mrs. Smith’.

“Look who’s here!” Casey immediately spotted you once you entered the venue, “Chrissy, this is Minho, our hot neighbor’s hotter boyfriend. Don’t they look so good together?”

You had informed Chris about the little scheme you got going on of course, but seeing you and Minho together clad in matching midnight blues, looking absolutely gorgeous while your arm was linked with his, he still couldn’t help the twitching in his eye.

“Yeah,” he glared at him with pure murderous intent through his smile, “They do.”

“You would have such pretty babies, oh my god!” Casey shrieked, then waved at another couple walking in, “Open bar on the other side. Make yourselves at home!”

Minho had a very entertained smile on his face even though Chris was almost crushing his hand out of fatal levels of jealousy. When they punctuated their staredown, Minho turned away to walk towards the bar, and you briefly stood right next to Chris.

“If you see me scratch my neck, it means I’m fucking you in my head,” you spoke breathily in a voice only he could hear, “It means I’m letting you do unspeakable things to me and I’m fucking loving it.”

Then you left leaving the clicks of your heels behind, sultrily floating to Minho with a fully content smirk on your face, knowing full well you just fried his brain.

“Does she ever stop screaming?” Minho contorted his face while handing you a martini, “My ears were about to bleed.”

“You and me both, brother,” you clinked your glass with his, and both of you downed your drinks in one go.

Then the pissing contest started in earnest.

Your eyes were following Chris everywhere he went, and Casey was stuck to him like a piece of gum under a diner table, throwing her arm around his shoulders, touching him in every way she could, and annoying you to absolutely no end. It didn’t take very long before Minho was able to read the situation and poured tanks of fuel on the fire.

“Come dance with me,” he pulled you towards the middle of the dancefloor, “Let’s push all his buttons at once.”

Meanwhile, Chris felt like he was watching a catastrophe go down before his eyes in slow motion. Your hand was in Minho’s, then your arms were wrapped around his neck. His forehead was pressed against yours. His hands were sliding from your back down to your waist. He was whispering things into your ear. You were giggling.

Chris almost pulverized the scotch glass in his hand when Minho placed a kiss on your bare shoulder. He was staring daggers at your way, but when you held his gaze from afar…

You scratched your neck.

He excused himself from the little circle he was in and subtly pointed at the door leading into a hallway with his head. Once he disappeared into the darkness, you stopped dancing.

“I’ll be right back.”

You walked a full circle around the room once before leaving through the same door Chris did. You could see the restroom signs on the right side, yet you had no idea what the hell the left side was leading to. It was dark. It was away from the crowd. It was secluded.

You turned on your heels and headed left.

Nineteen steps later, you were harshly dragged into what seemed like a custodial closet with a hand around your mouth.

“Fucking stop touching him!” Chris pinned your body against a wall and his loud hiss pierced through your ears.

“What is it, gorgeous?” you maniacally grinned at him, “Can’t stand seeing your girl with someone else?”

“Exactly,” he clenched his teeth, “You’re my girl.”

“Every time she touches you, I’ll let him touch me, too.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to stop it in public?!”

“Now you know how I feel,” your words were drenched with resentment, “I can’t stand her touching you. I can’t fucking stand her being with you!”

“She’s not with me! You know that.”

You were fuming from your nose, but Chris’ expression somehow softened. He held your hand and pressed it on the left side of his chest.

“I can never be hers, baby,” he caressed your face, “I never stopped being yours. Not for one second.”

You hated it. You hated how it immediately pacified you the moment he kissed you. You hated how you were completely incapable of being mad at him no matter how much you wanted to.

You hated it with all your being.

“Prove it,” you whispered against his lips.

“Prove what?”

“You don’t want him to touch what belongs to you? Then claim it,” you dared him, “Right here, right now.”

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and harshly yanked on it, risking a slight tear on the fabric, so that he would know how fucking serious you were.

“Make me walk around with your cum inside me. Then I’ll believe you.”

“You’re a fucking menace.”

It didn’t take much to seduce one another. One look. One word. One touch. There you were again, hands groping flesh, lips resolute to end lives, tongues tasting what the other had been sipping on all night. You were struggling to properly breathe, properly do anything else besides reciting love poems to each other in stanzas written with sounds of pleasure. His body was pressed against yours. His breath was on your neck. And muscle memory was a fascinating thing.

Chris was easily able to slide your underwear to the side and wrap one leg around his waist even in that darkness, and once he rammed himself inside your soaked pussy with a sharp thrust, he started drawing a chalk outline of you on that wall.

“YES!”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he moaned in your ear while fucking you harder. You pulled him even closer as if he would be able to pass through you.

“Don’t… Don’t fucking stop!”

“What are you going to say, huh?” Chris spat through his clenched teeth as he drilled you against the wall, hands firmly gripping your hips to leave bruises in the exact shape of his fingers, “What are you going to say if you want to cum?”

You barely managed to utter the words for your mental faculties were completely fucked out of you.

“I love you!!!”

“That’s my girl. You belong to me,” he dragged your bottom lip down with his thumb, “Look at me.”

Your eyes were used to the darkness by then. You were able to discern his face, his perfect lips, and all the stars shooting in his eyes.

“I love you, you hear me?” he professed once and for all, “I fucking love you to death.”

His lips found yours again as he dashed towards the finish line, his thumb working your clit as fast as he could to snap you. You swallowed all his moans while the familiar warmth spilled inside you, to claim you, to mark you, to sign you under his name for all eternity if it was at all possible. You kissed each other through your orgasms and made sure to actually visit the restroom to fix yourselves up.

“I gotta take this,” Chris frowned at his phone and stayed by the door once you both walked back inside. You left him behind and headed towards a lonely-looking Jisung by the bar.

“A little bird told me about a bros night out several weeks ago,” you nudged him on the shoulder playfully, “Are you establishing a neighborhood gentlemen’s club, my guy?”

“God, fuck no!” Jisung widened his eyes as though you said something utterly scandalous, “It was just me and my boys. I only asked Chris to come.”

“Apparently you guys had too much fun that night,” you cheesed at him.

“Oh, yeah, we were all completely shitfaced,” he grinned back, remembering the antics of the night.

“How did you even find your way back home?” you casually asked while gesturing for a glass of wine from the bartender.

“My lady was gracious enough to come get me, how else?”

“Shame on you!” you slapped his arm feigning disapproval, “Are you using your wife as a carpool service when you guys are out getting trashed?”

“Come on, do I really look like I would do such a thing?” he defended himself, “It was just me.”

“So you left Chris there all by himself?” you scoffed, “Some bro you are.”

“Nah, he kept saying he wanted to be with his girl, so we called Casey on his behalf. She came to pick him up.”

You felt like you were reading a book in a car that was doing 200 miles per hour. Sudden nausea mixed with a falling feeling.

“His– his girl?”

“Yeah, something about a thistle princess. I don’t know what the fuck he was talking about.”

Thistle princess.

Thistle… princess.

Now your heart was breaking for a completely different reason. The abrupt change from dread to endearment gave you severe whiplash, and the urge to violently cry was slowly rising in your throat.

“Is everything okay?” Jisung looked at you with worry.

“Yeah,” you flashed him a very genuine smile, “everything’s fine.”

Meanwhile, Chris was going through the exact whirlwind of emotions as you did while the caller’s voice kept ringing in his head. They had uttered only one sentence, but it carried too much emotion to process at once. A sudden gust of grief, then disbelief, but then…

Relief.

“I’ll– I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning.”

Chris just stood there and zoned out even after the call ended. When Casey finally managed to find him, her displeasure quickly turned into worry upon seeing his face.

“Chrissy?” she clung to his arm, “Did you see a ghost, baby? You’re paler than ever.”

His eyes slowly landed on his dear wife, and he uttered with zero emotion in his voice.

“My aunt’s passed in her sleep.”

Casey’s face immediately dropped, and any bystander would have found it natural upon hearing such news.

Yet only Chris and Casey were aware of what that expression entailed.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” a twisted smile started growing on Chris’ lips.

A part of him hated that this came at such a price, but no one could have it all in life. His only family might have been gone, but in return, he was now finally able to say the words he wanted to utter for so fucking long to Casey’s plastic face.

“I want a fucking divorce.”

The news had indeed caught Casey off guard, but she was pretty quick to recollect herself.

“I don’t think you want that,” she spoke with an eerily calm voice.

“Do not fucking tell me what I want or don’t want. I’m sick of being your prisoner and I want out!” Chris contained the volume of his voice to the best of his ability.

“I don’t think you do.”

“You lost all your cards against me. Tell me one good reason that will keep me here. I fucking dare you.”

Casey took a deep breath and tilted her head while looking at her husband as if she was looking at a child.

“Very well.”

She walked towards the little podium the jazz quartet was performing on and clinked on her glass in front of a microphone.

“May I have your attention, please?”

The entire crowd turned in her direction with the music stopped, and Casey plastered a graceful smile on her collagen-filled lips.

“Thank you very much to everyone who gathered here for a noble cause, but this is not the only joyous occasion of the night,” she raised her glass towards Chris, “I am beyond thrilled to announce that my beloved husband and I are expecting a baby!”

A round of roaring applause broke around the room whereas you and Chris were both in a state of complete shock.

“Did you fucking know about this?!” Minho looked at your terrorized face.

“N-no.”

Once Casey stepped down, Chris pulled her to the side before letting anyone speak to her first.

“Are you crazy?! What the fuck was that?”

“I’m just spreading the joy, darling,” she gleefully giggled.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that people need to have sex to conceive.”

It was at that moment her eyes darkened, and her smile changed into morbid colors.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“How you finally put your hands on me? After I brought you home from your night out with Jisung?”

It was like Chris was walking in front of a firing squad. He felt queasy and scared and furious all at the same time. That just could not be true. No. No. Just no.

“It’s okay,” Casey caressed her husband’s cheek and pecked it, “It was still the best night of my life,”

“You’re– You’re lying,” Chris stuttered, refusing to believe a word his wife said.

“I thought you would react this way,” she reached into her tiny clutch and pulled something like a polaroid out.

A sonogram picture.

While Casey started accepting good wishes from people approaching, Chris was nailed to his place looking at that mostly black frame. He wanted to perish. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. When he looked up, his eyes found you walking towards him, and he felt like his world was ending.

“Please…”

“Congratulations,” you approached Chris with an incredibly forced smile, your voice quivering and tears in your eyes, “You will make an amazing father.”

Minho watched the exchange in silence, but he couldn’t stand witnessing you slowly surrendering your soul right before his eyes any more than he had to.

“Baby, you wanna get out of here?” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you turned around and started heading towards the exit with quick steps.

Meanwhile, Minho was drilling a hole into Chris’ forehead with his gaze dripping with utter loathing and condemnation. If Chris so much as took one step towards your direction, Minho was really going to knock him out cold. The nerve this guy had… He deserved to bleed to death, but Minho had to make do with spitting on his shoes instead.

“I wish I could say good to meet you, but you fucked it up colossally even by my standards, man.”

Instead of answering him, Chris said a heartfelt fuck you to everything and started running after you as fast as he could.

“Baby, please,” his hand reached out to your shoulder, only to get slapped away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Please, listen to me!”

“Don’t touch me!”

“I swear,” he held both your hands in his, huge pleading eyes staring into your soul, “I swear I’ve never laid a finger on her!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me. It happened that night, didn’t it?” you immediately pulled your hands back, “When she picked you up from the bar?”

“It can’t be!”

“How would you even know?! You said you didn’t remember anything!” you threw your hands to the side in frustration, “Let me refresh your memory. Did you or did you not have your clothes on when you woke up?”

“I always sleep naked in my own bed! That’s not proof of anything!” he yelled, giving negative fucks about who would hear anymore, “But I don’t have to endure this anymore. We don’t have to endure this anymore. I’m filing for divorce.”

Right at that moment, Minho pulled up right behind you and honked at you to get in. You took one last look at the man you had entrusted your heart with, and his eyes welled up to the brim.

“I don’t give a shit about many things, Chris,” you couldn’t choke back your sobs anymore, “but a child is not of them.”

“I’m begging you. Please,” his tears falling from his beautiful face crashed around you louder than bombs, “Please don’t do this to us.”

The nightmarish image of the love of your life loving another woman until she was with his child… Seeing the man you loved with your whole entire being in tears… Begging you not to walk away… Everything was bleeding, and you felt like your soul was getting ripped apart. Like your life was ending.

But there was nothing you could do anymore.

“Do not look for me. Get that tattoo removed while you’re at it,” you got into the car and slammed the door close, “We’re through.”

You had told him not to let you love him but he did anyway, and look where you ended up at. Irreparably heartbroken. On the verge of dying in agony. Quite soon to run out of tears to cry. You were just so stupid.

So… so… so stupid.

« PREVIOUS CHAPTER · «TO BE CONTINUED»

AUTHOR'S NOTE

*Eminem - Without Me.mp3 plays in the distance* I'm back.

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suhomylife · 7 months

Text

If I don’t have a family like that I don’t need it!!

Dear Vampy, your Chan family stories are extremely comforting and sweet. Your Channies are the best i’ve ever read. Thank you!

𝐄𝐦𝐨, 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫, 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡

☆ Genre: Domestic, fluff, angst, slight crack

☆ Warnings: None ... just big fat copycats

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Chan, Y/N, Noah, Sky

☆ Word Count: 3.7k

☆ A/N: "바다 코끼리!"

Typically a very calm teenager, Noah had adopted a quiet, yet mysterious air about him. He was never one to raise his voice in a negative setting, nor was he one to get annoyed easily; his parents had taught both himself and his sister very early on in their adolescence that one of the most valuable traits of a human being was patience. Patience, and the ability to keep a cool head in the most gruelling of situations. And if the kids did feel inevitable anger taking a hold of them, the best thing they could do was to stay quiet until the feeling had passed.

That way, there would be no verbal or physical damage.

While Sky had struggled with her anger at first, Noah had always managed his emotions in a mild manner. It came naturally to his introverted personality, and he had found himself thankful countless times for the tender way his parents had raised him.

But sometimes, even Noah experienced situations that almost blew his head off with the sheer amount of agitation that some people were capable of providing him with.

It had been a very aggravating past couple of months. Noah had ignored what had been happening at first; but it had soon become unbearable, and quite frankly, Noah hadn't the slightest clue of what to do anymore. He didn't quite understand how one single person could be so incredibly infuriating. Nor did he understand how he had managed to acquire two of these infuriating people tailing him at all times.

Stumbling in through the front door of his home at nearly nine in the evening, Noah kicked his heavy boots off of his feet. They bounced off of the floor in a disorderly fashion, and he stepped over them instead of setting them aside neatly like he usually did as he yanked his jacket off of his tall frame. Zippers rattled on the leather garment as he tossed it onto the sofa, words spilling out of him and finding their way to anyone in the household who would listen.

"I don't fucking understand," The eighteen year old grumbled. "Do you not have a brain of your own? Are your fucking screws missing? Do you not have the capacity to do anything other than analyse me like a fucking fly under a fucking microscope? I'm not your fucking bi - "

From her art studio, Y/N heard a sudden commotion. Her husband was lounging on one of the plush seats beside her, and he swivelled his alarmed gaze towards Y/N just as she looked towards him.

"Is that Noey?" Chan asked in mild surprise. "Is he … yelling?"

Y/N resisted the urge to giggle as she registered the distant words that were leaving Noah's mouth in steady streams. "Let's go see?"

Chan nodded eagerly. Wiping her hands on the front of her apron, Y/N hooked the material over her head and set it to the side before slipping her hand into her husband's; she was rather grateful for the sudden distraction. She had a feeling she'd have continued to work into the early hours of the next morning if Noah hadn't inadvertently intervened.

Snapping the lights off, Y/N shut the glass doors behind her. Chan and Y/N both padded down the corridor, and they stopped behind a wall when they caught sight of Noah's erratic state.

"'I wasn't aware' … are you actually stupid?" Noah was continuing to groan to himself, his footsteps pacing up and down the living area in a restless manner. "How can you not fucking be aware? Are you that thick? Are you a moron? Are you, God forbid, blind?"

Chan covered his mouth with a hand. Noah's curly hair was a disarrayed mess around his head, the dark liner around his eyes smudged around his freckled skin. It gave him a slightly untamed, wild look, and Chan was surprised; he never realised how intimidating his quiet son could appear from time to time.

From just underneath his chin, Y/N was trying her level best to not burst into peals of laughter.

"What is he so worked up about?" Chan murmured to his wife. "Who's the poor sod he's calling a moron?"

"I have no idea," Y/N hummed back. "I can't get over the fact he just said ‘God forbid’ before calling them blind."

Quietly giggling to each other, Y/N and Chan shook their heads as they continued to observe their eighteen year old.

"That's our Noey," Chan grinned. "Always thoughtful."

"Don't you think like … if he ever punched someone, he'd probably run over to them and give them medical aid?" Y/N wheezed under her breath.

Chan's body shook behind her with silent mirth as he continued to watch their son. He was now in the kitchen, his eyes flashing in a way neither of the adults had ever seen before.

"Oh no … oh baby go stop him, he's going for the coffee," Chan grimaced as he gently curled his hand around his wife's arm. He watched as Noah pulled open the door of the fridge, reaching for a tall jug of cold coffee. "Who knows what he'll do if he gets that down him."

Y/N visibly blanched. She walked into the kitchen, her son still unaware of his parents' ogling.

"Noey?" Y/N asked gently. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Noah almost jumped out of his skin. He turned around and set the jug down on the counter, the annoyance in his face melting and his face immediately softening at the sight of his mother.

He looked as though he didn't particularly know what to say; he was shaking with what Y/N imagined was anger, and the woman smiled softly. She placed her hands on his arms, and she slowly inhaled, willing him to do the same.

"There we go … " Y/N breathed with a smile after Noah deeply inhaled and exhaled three times. "Now. How about we put this coffee away for a second?"

At that, Noah's freckled face broke into a grin. "Probably a good idea."

"Definitely a good idea," Chan agreed as he traipsed into the room with a crooked smile on his lips. "Otherwise someone might die tonight. And I don't mean you."

Noah started to chuckle. He concurrently sagged onto one of the stools behind the counter, his dark ringed eyes disappearing beneath his heavy curls as he looked to the ground.

"Was I really that loud?" Noah asked. "Did you hear everything?"

"Well, no … " Chan began, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Yes," Y/N said at the same time. She grinned. "Yes we did."

"Cool," Noah nodded slowly. He rubbed at his face with a sigh before slumping onto one of the stools.

Y/N secretly flitted her gaze to her husband. Chan shrugged, his eyes warm as they landed on Noah.

"Noey?" Chan asked.

"Yeah?"

"Who's blind?" Chan asked again.

At that, Noah couldn't help but grin. The lean muscle of his biceps pulsed under his black t-shirt as he made to push his hair back in a slow gesture.

"They're not actually blind," Noah explained. He then scowled. "They act like it though."

"Who's they?" Y/N asked curiously as she pulled the water jug to herself. She poured it into a fresh glass and slid it over to the teenager who took it gratefully, immediately gulping down the contents.

"Pair of friends," Noah drawled. "There's two of them. They're both girls and they're doing my absolute head in."

At that, Chan looked away. Y/N glared at him as she caught sight of the amused grin twitching on his lips. She leaned against the counter as both parents gave Noah the opportunity to speak further.

“You know I'm pretty friendly with everyone, right?” Noah started. His parents nodded; Noah had definitely inherited that specific trait from his father, and Y/N smiled secretly. “Well, every now and then there's people who just … I don't know. I'll talk to them once, just casual, you know - and then suddenly the next week it's like they're trying to be me.”

Chan furrowed his brows as he folded his muscular arms across his broad chest. “Be you? How?”

“Little things. Stupid things. I don't really care, usually. Everyone takes inspiration from others … it's fine. But God … every now and then I'll get a few people copying every single thing about me. The way I dress, the way I do my hair, the way I speak, the way I look, the things I eat … it's fucking maddening - ”

Y/N pursed her lips at that. She definitely knew exactly how maddening that sort of a situation was.

“ - Recently there's been these two girls who have been following me around,” Noah continued, taking another sip of his water. “They're both studying music so I see them pretty often. It started off really small … they'd have the same drinks as me, or they'd roll their sleeves up when I did, go to the same places as me. But then one of them had the exact same jacket as me. The other had the same shoes. They both have the same bag as me. Neither of them wear makeup but suddenly they have fucking panda eyes. They're not even Australian and they're suddenly speaking with Aussie accents?”

Noah scowled, even more annoyed as he recollected multiple elements from the previous few weeks. “It got to the point where they started sitting where me and the lads usually sit at lunch and stuff. They started a “band” … what kind of fucking band has two people? That's a duo.”

“That … that is true,” Chan mused. He couldn't keep the fond smile off of his face as he listened to his son rant in his angry tone; Chan knew how worked up Noah was. But for some reason, seeing the teenager so heated up made Chan want to giggle.

He really did find his son incredibly adorable in this particular moment.

“You'll never guess what happened today?” Noah suddenly scoffed. “I did think for ages like … what if I'm the problem, you know? What if I'm just delusional and these are just coincidences, you know?”

“Definitely not,” Y/N frowned.

“Yeah, I know. But what if, right? Anyway today I was writing some songs … one of them just wasn't going great and I threw it away, right?”

“Right … “ Chan nodded.

“Well, apparently someone's being going through the rubbish bins,” Noah rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I walked in on those two girls with my screwed up piece of paper at lunch, and they were gushing about how they were going to try and turn it into their song.”

“‘What the fuck’, I say,” Sky suddenly chimed in; she had sidled into the kitchen and stolen a muffin from the glass display case on the counter, and raspberry juice stained her fingers pink as she deposited chunks of the cake into her mouth.

Y/N's mouth fell open just as Chan burst into laughter. “Sky!”

“What?” Sky shrugged through a mouthful. “It's the perfect expression for what Noey is talking about.”

Y/N shook her head as a smile spread across her face. “Well … I can't argue with that.”

Sky chewed her muffin thoughtfully as she narrowed her eyes at her older brother. She cocked her head, spotting the thin silver chain twinkling under the kitchen lights when he moved his head.

She wrinkled her nose. “Why would anyone want to copy you? You look like an emo, rockstar wannabe anglerfish.”

Noah choked on his water. “An emo, rockstar wannabe what?”

“An anglerfish,” Sky repeated. “Well. Usually you look more like a goblin shark. But today you look like an anglerfish.”

“Hey, we had an album called Rockstar back in the day,” Chan chuckled suddenly. “Maybe she's right. You do have a few of my genes, no?”

Noah slapped his hand over his face. “I don't think your album had anything to do with anglerfish or goblin sharks though, dad?”

“Well … no … “ Chan said slowly. “Hey, but sharks are very cool. I have a shark tooth - “

“Do you know what a goblin shark looks like, dad?” Noah asked.

Chan shook his head.

Giggling suddenly, Sky whipped out her phone. “I'll show you!”

It was when Sky turned her Google page around to her father and showed him the long nosed sea creature did Chan clamp his mouth shut.

The man then burst into a round of high pitched laughter, his knees weak suddenly as he held onto his wife for support.

“Wow,” Noah said dryly despite the smile on his face. “This is definitely a strange way of helping.”

“Sorry,” Chan continued to laugh. He was struggling to breathe, and his eyes had begun to shine from tears of mirth. “Sorry Noey … it's just … its nose. It sticks out like your fringe.”

Noah pressed a hand to his forehead, flattening the curls beneath his palm. “It does not.”

“It … it kinda does,” Y/N peered over at the phone.

“But hey, this shark is so cute!” Chan insisted as she reached for Sky's phone. He swiped through the images rapidly, landing on a specific photo. “See? He's a cute little guy … no? I think his nose is really charming.”

Y/N's lips twitched as she tilted her head towards her husband. “This conversation is reminding me of something … “

“What?” Chan laughed.

Taking the phone from his hand, Y/N searched for something. She then turned the phone around as Chan leaned closer to the screen.

“Walrus!” Chan clapped his hands together once with a bark of laughter before sinking to the ground in defeat. The man was now definitely crying as he shook with amusement, Y/N giggling after him as she handed the phone back to her daughter.

Sky stared at the picture of the walrus. “Why are you dying over a walrus?”

“Oh, Bin … “ Chan was wheezing on the floor.

Y/N grinned. “Long story. We'll explain later. Or rather, I'll have to show you.”

She then looked down at Chan clinging to her leg, his energy completely spent. She shook her head, resisting the urge to burst into laughter all over again.

“Christopher! Stop rolling around on the floor and let Noey finish his ranting,” Y/N slipped her hand into her husband's and heaved him up to his unsteady feet.

Chan smirked at her as he brushed his t-shirt down with his fingers. “Ooh … Mrs Strong, huh?”

“Oh stop it,” Y/N slightly slapped a hand over his chest. He was still watching her with flirty eyes and she cleared her throat, avoiding his strong gaze. She pointed towards Noah. “Pay attention.”

“Yeah, dad. Pay attention,” Sky chipped in again as she reached for another muffin.

“Okay, okay,” Chan wiped the traces of tears from his cheeks. He passed a hand over his face and regained a solemn expression, making his children giggle. “Sorry Noey. Continue.”

Noah shook his head with a grin. “I think the urge to continue is pretty much over.”

“Well, do it anyway,” Sky grumbled. “Spill the tea.”

“No, don't spill the tea,” Chan frowned. “Tea is hot. And if you spill it you'll hurt yourself.”

“Stop being so literal, dad,” Sky rolled her eyes. She then jabbed at Noah's side. “Spill.”

“Stop doing that,” Noah scowled, batting Sky's hand away. He then pulled her muffin towards himself and smirked devilishly as he broke it in half, taking the smaller piece before pushing it back towards her. “Payment.”

Sky stuck her tongue out at him.

“Anyway so I confronted them about it,” Noah started up again. “And they were all like ‘oh we had no idea’ and ‘we're not copying you’ … like yeah right, you even started staying after school like me.”

“How old are these girls … ?” Chan asked.

“Eighteen,” Noah sighed. “Imagine behaving like that at eighteen.”

“Try in your twenties,” Y/N snorted.

Noah's eyes widened. “Who?”

“A girl I was friends with once,” Y/N grinned. “She was genuinely, pathologically, insane. She didn't just copy me. She turned her entire life inside out to match mine … and apparently that wasn't enough either. Once she found out I liked your father, she started copying him too.”

Chan visibly blanched. “Don't remind me of that. She was embarrassing. And I was so not cool … like why would she copy me out of all people?”

Y/N threw him a disapproving look. Chan started to chuckle, and he curled his hands around her arm as he kissed her cheek.

“So what did you do?” Noah asked, suddenly very curious.

Y/N shrugged. “I talked to her about it at first. Like fifteen times. And each time she'd say the same thing … she wasn't aware, she was just doing her own thing, she was sorry and she'd make sure it wouldn't happen again … but obviously every time it happened, there was another time, and another time. Until finally I told her I'd cut her off if she didn't get her shit together.”

“Mama!” Sky exclaimed, copying her mother's tone from earlier.

Y/N giggled. “What did you say earlier? It was just … ‘the right expression’?”

Sky pursed her lips. “Continue.”

“And that was when she was like ‘no, no don't cut me off I'll promise to be better’,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the memory. “But I cut her off. Blocked her on all my socials, stopped hanging out with her … and then guess what?”

“What?” Noah asked, cocking his head to the side.

“She still found a way to stalk me, and she still continued to copy me,” Y/N burst into laughter. “Pathetic, right?”

Sky wrinkled her nose. “Uncle Lee Know says that copying people and following trends are both stupid. And that you should just do your own thing otherwise you'll never be satisfied and you'll only be a shell of who you could be.”

At that, Chan beamed at his daughter proudly. “Well, there you go. Courtesy of our dear Lee Know, Sky is once again, correct.”

Chewing on the muffin, Noah leaned forward against the counter. “I just don't understand why people do it. And especially to this extent.”

“It's all jealousy,” Chan shook his head in disapproval. He then placed a hand on the small of his back, groaning. “I need to sit down.”

“Should have sat down earlier, old man,” Sky giggled as Chan pulled out a stool next to Noah.

Chan pulled a silly expression. “Alright, thank you, Kim Seungmin's secretary. Anyway … where was I?”

“Jealousy,” Y/N prompted. “I'll make some tea.”

“Ooh yes, I could do with some right now,” Chan rubbed his hands together in anticipation as Y/N moved towards the other kitchen counter. “Don't spill it!”

“Very funny,” Y/N shook her head.

Chan grinned at his children as he clocked their tired expressions. “Can't stand your father's jokes, aye?”

“No, no, please,” Noah said slowly. “Do continue.”

“Do not continue,” Sky countered. “But do elaborate on the jealousy.”

“Oh, right! Jealousy is pretty common in a lot of people unfortunately … usually when a weak person is insecure in themselves or their lives, they'll start focusing on other people and their success instead of doing something about their own situation. And the more they focus on other people instead of themselves, the more the jealousy grows, and the more bitter they get,” Chan explained carefully. “Jealousy is pretty dangerous. It can lead to lots of different things … stabbing people in the back, depression, sabotaging other people … and of course, copying.”

“So … those people at school … “ Noah pondered. “They're just jealous?”

“Most likely,” Chan shrugged. “Or sometimes, people can still be figuring out who they are, so they take bits and pieces from others without realising they're so obviously copying them. But usually when that's the case, if you talk to them about it, they'll seem genuine in their response. If they don't stop, like your mother's experience … then it's definitely jealousy.”

“That's stupid,” Sky commented bluntly.

Chan grinned. “It is. I personally can't stand people who don't do anything about their unhappiness. Of course, it's different if they've tried everything and there's actually nothing else that they can do, you know? But some people are so unhappy and they won't even try to fix it … they get lazy and they start bringing other people around them in the process. Those sort of people … yeah it's best not to involve yourself with them.”

From the other side of the kitchen, Y/N scoffed. “Sounds like my ex friend.”

“Yeah, she was a right piece of work,” Chan shook his head.

“Can't I do anything about it?” Noah suddenly asked. “You know … at school. Can't I get them to stop?”

Carrying mugs of tea to the counter, Y/N smiled softly. “If you've asked them to stop and they don't stop, I don't think there's anything else you can do. The thing about copycats, is that no matter how much you try to make sure they don't copy you, they'll always find a way to do it. That's just how these people are. And while it's annoying, you just have to remember … you're the original, yeah? These people can't do anything until you've done it first. You'll always be a step ahead of them - that's a fact. You just have to learn to ignore them and enjoy being better than them.”

“Baby!” Chan laughed at his wife's last statement.

Y/N shrugged as she sat in front of the three of them. “Well, it's true. The original is always going to be better than the fake.”

“I can't argue with that,” Chan grinned.

“And hey, no matter what, copycats will never be able to replicate your success and your outcome,” Y/N said as she curled her fingers around her mug. “You'll always come up with something new and innovative … but certain people aren't capable of using their brains and leach onto your old ideas instead.”

“They're the true wannabe anglerfish,” Sky muttered at Noah. “You're the real anglerfish.”

At that, the family couldn't help but burst into laughter all over again. Noah shook his head at her statement as he took a sip of his tea; he had to admit, his family might be crazy, but they definitely had a way of diminishing all of his issues.

He smiled against the rim of his mug as he watched Sky throw a piece of muffin at their father.

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Tag list ~ @koos-euphoria @raethethey @hotmesshapa @manonblackbeak-trash @hendsernoodle @stanskzseungmin @ateez-babygirl @dalamjisung @dinosdawn @cookiemonstermusic258 @strwbrryfroyo @gazelle-des-pres @qtieskz @stigmvta @necromancersupreme @super-btstrash-posts @changlix-mp4 @exonations @changboobies @jeyelleohe @rae-blogging @planetdemon @dani41 @jumbocircus @octalalica @velvetand-roses @foivetimesacharm @anaaam @waverzzzzzzzz @peachy-flxwr @elizabeth11moreno @lenfilms @xhazmania @starshine-moon @snow-pegasus @bbychannie97 @laylasbunbunny @americanokisses @bluechans @bellamuerte1987 @meowmeowisdaname @chanssmiles @minunivers @septicrebel @bangchans-angel @spacegirlstuff (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

#stray kids #tvw fics #bang chan #stray kids scenarios #stray kids text #stray kids text post #stray kids texts #bang chan fluff #bang chan daddy #skz

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suhomylife · 7 months

Text

How sweet! The puns at the end were absolutely perfect! And oh how I want to go on a skating date with Hyunjinnie now

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

☆ Genre: Fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Hyunjin, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 2.1k

☆ A/N: My posts aren't showing up in the tags so please reblog this ♡

“I can do it myself,” Y/N insisted as she sat down on one of the benches. “Hyunjin … “

“Let me,” Hyunjin said in a soft tone of voice. He crouched down in front of Y/N, his slender frame folding like an elegant origami swan.

Y/N bit her lip as she watched him. Hyunjin's fingers began to lace up her ice skates, his touch nimble and gentle as he tugged at the laces; from this angle, Y/N could see the way Hyunjin's dark hair fell in gentle sweeps against the angular structure of his face, his long lashes looking like a fine dust of cocoa on his skin as he tilted his head downwards. With every one of his movements, Y/N caught the sweet depth of florals and the warmth of vanilla radiating from his skin, the subtle woodiness at the base of it all sending her heart fluttering like a bird in a cage.

She wasn't sure if being so incredibly handsome for a first date was legal.

She also couldn't help but feel as though she didn't compare to him in the slightest.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin's voice carried a slight tinge of urgency and Y/N blinked suddenly as she was snapped out of her lovestruck thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I was asking if they're too tight,” Hyunjin said.

Y/N looked down at her skates. Hyunjin's fingers were still cupping the sides of her skates, and perhaps it was just her imagination, but Y/N was sure she could feel heat from his hands seeping in through the shoes.

She swallowed. “They're fine. Thank you.”

Hyunjin's face broke into a large smile. The expression caused the man's face to completely light up, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. He looked remarkably as though he was glowing, just as an ethereal sculpture might shine with the spillage of sunlight gracing its stretch of marble.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked, tilting his head to the side.

Y/N let out a questionable sound in response. She had intended on replying with a simple ‘yes’. But instead she made the sound of what could only be described as a deflating balloon.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Mhm.”

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin laughed quietly. “I called you three times.”

“You smell good,” Y/N blurted out. She then slapped her gloved hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. “I didn't say that.”

Hyunjin's face crinkled in childish joy as he started to laugh all over again. “Thank you.”

He then stood up again, towering over Y/N with a poised stance. Y/N looked up at him in awe. Even the way his long woollen coat hung from his body seemed to drip with elegance, the scarf around his neck styled as though he had just walked out from an editorial magazine. He seemed not to notice all the stares he was receiving from people who milled past them both, his nonchalance all the more attractive to Y/N.

She breathed shakily. She wasn't sure if her knees were quite strong enough to stand; there was something about the way the man in front of her was looking at her that seemed to turn her insides into jelly.

“Ready?” Hyunjin asked, extending a hand. “Don't worry … I've got you.”

Y/N swallowed thickly. “I'm really, really bad at skating.”

Hyunjin smiled, mischief dancing in the pits of his eyes. “It's a good thing I'm a great skater then, isn't it?”

“I hope you're as good as you say you are,” Y/N said weakly as she slipped her hand into his. She watched in slow motion as Hyunjin curled his fingers around hers in his heated hold, and he used a gentle pressure to pull her to unsteady feet.

It was still clearly too much for Y/N; the sudden unfamiliar feeling of standing on nothing but thin slivers made her unbalance almost immediately. She stumbled into Hyunjin, her eyes widening as the man's hands found their way to the small of her back.

Chest against his, Y/N looked up into Hyunjin's eyes with embarrassment flooding into hers. But catching the pink tint on Hyunjin's cheeks, Y/N felt her heartbeat speed up as she registered the man's hold on her, his scent clouding her mind and his overwhelming proximity turning her brain into mush.

“Woah,” Hyunjin hummed as he studied Y/N's face. Her hair had escaped from underneath her hat, and Hyunjin gently reached out to tuck the strands beneath the material. “Careful.”

Y/N expected him to pull away; she moved first, and she was surprised when she felt Hyunjin's hands tightening on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Wait,” Hyunjin whispered. He lowered his head, his lips brushing her temple as he smiled. “You smell good too.”

“I - “ Y/N felt her words dissipate as quickly as they had flooded her mind upon hearing his words. She felt her blood rush to her head, echoing in her ears like a heavy drum set.

Hyunjin smiled. He cleared his own throat quietly before sliding his hands down to Y/N's, and he entwined his long fingers with hers. “Let's go.”

Nodding, Y/N inhaled deeply. Her brain was having a party inside of her skull, continuously chanting about how Hyunjin was holding her hand. She felt nervous as she slowly followed Hyunjin's smooth strides with her own timid ones, and once they were both on the ice, she felt her limbs tremble with both light headedness from the man she was with, and the constant fear of falling on her face in front of him.

“It's so cold … “ Hyunjin commented as he skated a few inches towards the side of the rink. His voice turned into tiny white clouds as he spoke, and Y/N once again found herself marvelling over the beauty that radiated from him in a never ending stream.

She shook her head. Focus, she thought to herself. It wasn't as though she had never been with him before … surely her sudden inflation of romantic feelings for him wouldn't affect her ability to function this much.

Standing in front of her, Hyunjin held his two bands out towards Y/N. “Hold onto my hands. I'll teach you how to skate.”

Doing as she was told, Y/N slipped her hands onto his again.

“Okay ... you have to tilt your feet outwards a little bit, like this,” Hyunjin parted his feet, his toes further apart than his heels. “And then bend your knees to find your balance.”

Y/N did her best to copy his stance. She had a feeling she looked utterly ridiculous.

“Good. Now pick one of your feet up - not too high,” Hyunjin demonstrated again. “Then the other. Kind of like you're marching.”

“Like this?” Y/N marched slowly on the spot. Her face broke into a smile as she started to giggle. “I feel silly. I look silly.”

Hyunjin smiled. He squeezed her hands. “You look beautiful. Now … push outwards with one foot onto the ice. You can do it.”

Still holding his hands, Y/N exhaled. She then did her best to follow his instructions; knees slightly bent, she pushed her right foot outwards, and then her left foot. Her eyes widened in surprise as she felt herself glide onto the ice, and when she looked up, she saw Hyunjin beaming at her with pride.

“I knew you could do it!” He exclaimed happily. “You're a quick learner.”

“You're good at teaching,” Y/N countered as she continued to skate slowly towards him. “I've never, ever managed to skate even one step before.”

Satisfied, Hyunjin couldn't help but tug at her hands; Y/N slid towards him, giggles escaping her mouth as she fell into the curve of his body again, his arm sliding around her waist.

“Let's skate around together. And then you can try to do it on your own,” Hyunjin suggested. He enveloped one of his hands with her own and she nodded, looking determined as she began to glide slowly across the ice.

After a few minutes, Y/N seemed to have gotten the hang of it; her strides became longer, her movements smoother. She adopted a rhythmic pace with Hyunjin, and with content smiles on their faces, Hyunjin and Y/N skated around the ice rink with their hands clasped in one another's.

They both managed to skate to their start point in no time at all, and once they were there, Hyunjin gently kissed the back of Y/N's hand.

“Try it on your own now,” Hyunjin said. “I'll be behind you, so don't worry.”

Y/n nodded. She reluctantly pulled her hand out of his warm grip and took a deep breath before bending her knees slightly again. Finding her centre of gravity, she pushed off, delighted when she realised she could skate just as well without the man's hand in hers.

It was when a sudden stumbling figure hurtled towards her did Y/N realise she had no idea how to stop moving. Her eyes widened as she hurtled towards a wall, her heart racing as it got closer and closer.

“Hyunjin!” Y/N squealed. “You didn't teach me how to sto - “

Before she knew what was happening, the front of Y/N's skate jabbed itself into a groove in the ice. She tipped forward, spinning as her legs gave way and she landed promptly on the ice, her face smacking against a chip of ice on the floor.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin gasped. He quickly skated towards her, his eyes wide and full of panic as he kneeled down next to Y/N. “Oh my God … I'm so sorry! How did I forget to teach you to stop?”

Breathing heavily, Y/N sat up slowly. Her face was contorted in pain, and Hyunjin's face turned into one of horror as he took in the sight of her.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked anxiously.

Y/N nodded. “I'm okay. I think … I think I twisted my ankle … “

“Your chin!” Hyunjin inhaled sharply. “Y/N … Y/N you're bleeding.”

“I am?” Y/N asked. “Where?”

“The bottom of your chin.” Hyunjin reached out gently, almost as if he was going to touch her face. Thinking better of it, he retracted his hand and instead pulled Y/N up to her feet. “Can you move? Just to get over there.”

He pointed towards the benches on the outside of the ice rink where he had tied Y/N's skates initially.

Y/N nodded. “I think so.”

Leaning into him, with some difficulty Y/N managed to reach the bench. Hyunjin set her down on the seat and kneeled in front of her again before reaching for the bag he had brought with him.

“I'm glad I listened to Chan,” Hyunjin commented as he pulled out a small pouch. He smiled, unzipping it and revealing its contents. “He told me to bring a first aid kit. Just in case.”

Y/N smiled. “I'm glad you listened to him too.”

Pulling out a packet of antiseptic wipes, Hyunjin cleaned his fingers before taking a hold of Y/N's face. He steepled one hand on the underside of Y/N's jaw, and with the other hand, he raised the wipe to Y/N's jaw.

Y/N's breath hitched from the sting of the antiseptic solution on her cut. Hyunjin's eyes filled with sympathy as he dabbed as gently as he could, mopping up the blood from her skin.

“Definitely the worst date ever, huh?” Hyunjin hummed as he set the wipe aside. He laughed a little bitterly, looking down as he found a tube of ointment. “I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't want to come out with me again.”

Y/N blinked. She reached her hand out and placed it on top of his, the man looking up at her in surprise.

“That's not true,” Y/N shook her head. “I … I think it was a perfect date. You could even say … I fell for you.”

Hyunjin stared at her. He then burst into laughter, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he snorted with amusement.

Y/N grinned, utterly satisfied. “Did that … break the ice?”

“Oh my gosh,” Hyunjin's face adopted an expression of pain as he understood the girl's joke. He shook his head as he began to slather the cream over Y/N's injury. “Definitely.”

He then smiled, reaching for a plaster. “So … what do you think about going to watch a movie?”

“A movie?” Y/N asked, cocking her head to the side.

“We could go back to mine … “ Hyunjin shrugged as he carefully smoothed the plaster over Y/N's chin. “I have a very big collection of romance movies. And loads of snacks.”

Y/N bit her lip, a smile spreading across her blushing face. She looked into the man's face, nothing but hopefulness and adoration glowing in his eyes.

She nodded. “I'd like that.”

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#tvw fics #stray kids scenarios #stray kids text #stray kids text post #stray kids texts #skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin au

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suhomylife · 7 months

Text

Jeeeez we got a chance to become a part of another beautiful story written by Mari and the male character is Chan?? Am I dreaming?? as a Chris bias-wrecked girl, my day just became a million times better!

i love your Hyunnies with all my heart but every time i see Chan in your stories (especially in super bored) i scream JUSTICE FOR CHRIS. (and me hehe)

im so invested already and cant wait to see what will happen next. the beginning of the story is just 🤌🤌🤌 10000/10. The way you express making LOVE is exceptionally beautiful. So is everything you do! the way they are so blind to each others feelings but everything just screams loooooovvvveeee! ough my hearttt i cant!

the benefit of being friends | miniseries | part one 🔞

pairing: best friend chan x f!reader | wordcount: 3.7k | genre: romance, smut | warnings: angst ; mutual pining ; adult / sexually explicit content (explicit fantasies depicting sexual acts). Author compiles relevant / major warnings only. This work is for adult audiences. [ Rated: Mature ; Explicit ; Explicit+++ ]

Happy birthday week to Mrs. Bang herself, @cb97percent. 🎂♡

⸻ And maybe that admitting it to somebody would only make it feel so real. There would always be something abstract about unspoken thoughts and feelings, something sacred too.

Your body right there, and his arms around you, pulling you even closer but it’s never close enough. He needs you, needs his soul and yours to become one. The atoms of you merging with his. One body, one soul.

Your body right there. You’re laying on your side just like him, your back flush with his chest. You’re naked and beautiful. You’re always beautiful. You reach behind you to touch him, to pull him into a kiss. And he can’t resist you—why would he anyway?

So, Chris kisses you. Your lips are supple and nice. You melt into him. The bed is warm but you’re warmer. You whisper his name between kisses, like a plea.

Yes, yes. He wants you too. He only wants you.

Opening your legs and feeling up your cunt, smearing your slick over your pretty pussy while you play with your tits. Yes, your pussy is pretty, of course it is—Chris just knew that. Cupping your tits in his hands and squeezing them, feeling the weight of them in his palms.

Kissing your neck. Suckling on the skin there, leaving marks behind. A reminder. A souvenir. His girl.

Your body right there underneath him. Parting your legs open, exposing your intimacy to him. Rubbing himself onto you to coat his cock with your juices. You’re this wet for him, just for him.

Pinning your wrists above your head and burying himself inside you. Not breaking eye contact while he stretches your sweet cunt, watching you take all of him, seeing a gradient of emotion in your beautiful eyes. Surprise. Then, a slight sting of pain. Your eyelids fluttering as you adjust to him. Your pussy hugging him, juices gushing and rolling down your ass.

Then, abandon when he bottoms out. Bliss. Ecstasy. Yes, you were born to take his cock and he was born to serve you.

Fucking you hard. No, harder. Your tits bouncing each time he thrusts into you. Your body right there, your moans filling the room. Him filling your cunt, fucking you proper, pounding into your soaked pussy. Your body right there, writhing under him, begging for mercy but never asking him to stop. You like that, huh? You like it hard? Yes you do, of course you do.

Fucking you deep. No, deeper. Strong, languid thrusts into you, your ankles on his shoulders, hitting that one soft spot into you that makes you arch your back. Scream for me, just like that. Your pussy flush and swollen, rubbing your pretty clit, slapping your tits or your face, but never too hard. Or maybe a little. Maybe a little harder because you clench around him when he does.

You cum on his cock and it’s so wet. You’re so tight. Your nails sinking into his skin, your soul leaving your body while he ascends you. Your orgasm is more beautiful than any masterpiece in a museum. You give yourself to him and he gives himself to you. Only you. His girl.

Your body right there, his cock deep inside your fluttering pussy. He gives you his cum, spilling himself in your beautiful, sweet cunt, fucking it into you, listening to the lewd noises it makes when he does so.

Your body right there. Your arms around him, your lips on his, two souls becoming one. Just him. Just you. His girl.

Your body right there.

Chris woke up with a strangled whimper still on his lips and a familiar feeling of wetness on his crotch. The fabric of his boxers was lukewarm and damp over his softening cock, and gentle waves of electricity and pleasure still whirled within him, warm and delightful. He took a deep breath, chasing the remnants of his dreams, not quite ready to let go yet. No, no please, he begged almost inaudibly, his face buried into his pillow. Just a little longer. But the dream-like sensation of you was leaving him, and there was no fooling his brain any longer—his cock was wet not from you but because he came in his sleep, and it was his own cum staining his boxers.

With a deep sigh, Chris opened his eyes.

His room was dark but some light filtered from behind the blinds. It had a white aspect to it, so he knew that when he’d draw the curtains open, he would see snow covering the ground and maybe even sticking to the trees.

Chris rolled on his back, staring at the ceiling as he came down from his sleepy orgasm. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong because he respected you and your friendship. And it wasn’t as though that friendship wasn’t enough. In fact, you meant more to him than he was often able to say, as he hadn’t quite found the right words to describe it.

Not that he needed to. Because it was Chris’ most beautiful secret—these feelings that he kept in his heart. These feelings that he concealed so that you never had to see them, so that you never had to be hurt by them.

And he didn’t need anything else. Just you, and this friendship. This familiar feeling he had when he looked over his laptop at the same time as he did, and you both smiled at the same time. Sometimes, Chris wanted to ask you if you were smiling at him or because you found it humorous that you both raised your eyes at the same moment. It was stupid, really, but Chris liked being the reason why you smiled.

Despite the weight in his chest, Chris smiled that morning when he heard his phone buzz on his nightstand. He knew who had texted him, and why, and he relished that familiarity. That undeniable anchor.

You: Morning, sleepyhead. Are you up? I’d so very much like it if we didn’t miss our train. See you soon!

You had attached a funny picture of a sleepy puppy to your message. Chris stared at his phone for a few seconds, longer than he needed to, his gaze lingering on the tiny profile picture next to your name. He had taken that picture a few months ago during a night out with friends.

It was wrong. The thoughts he had, the cum staining his underwear. It felt right though. It just did. He knew he shouldn’t have all those fantasies involving you but he couldn’t help it. Not that he felt like he ought to be defensive about it even in his own thoughts, but he did try to fend it off. He did try not to think about you that way, oftentimes paying a lot of money for porn, to distract his mind.

But it did not matter what he was watching or how much it had cost him—he only ever saw you.

There were both pros and cons to starting a business with your friend. The cons were pretty straightforward—whenever a disagreement happened, it immediately became personal. When something went wrong, knowing too much about the other could cause dilemmas, and walking on eggshells could become a bad habit.

But the pros made it all worth it. There were issues, sure, and it was hard not to cross lines, but having a bond with somebody also made it easier to make up, to find some sort of resolution. There was also the undeniable chemistry that already existed, which was much better than having to meet new coworkers on a regular basis and create an artificial fellowship with them. The benefit of being friends was just that—closeness and empathy and love.

Oh, and also—friends knew your coffee order and the music you liked, which made business trips with them a lot more pleasant.

“Can’t be good for your heart,” Chan said when you took your seat again. You were sitting across from him on the train, but the ride was almost over. He had one earbud on and you had the other—he was in charge of the playlist for now. The smile on his lips was playful. “All that coffee you drink. How many bathroom trips has it been? Maybe it’s your kidneys I should worry about, not your heart…”

“Shut up!” You nudged your friend from the other side of the table you shared. “You bought me this very cup of coffee!”

“And you drank it! That ain’t on me!” Chan looked away from his laptop to offer you a falsely aggravated gaze, causing you to burst into laughter.

“Shut! Up!” you repeated with a sigh, not minding the stares other passengers shot at you. “You’re kind of an idiot, Chan.”

“Yes. But you made investments and signed contracts and now the bank says you’re stuck with me for four more years at least, so you better get used to it.” With that, Chan stuck his tongue out and made a face, childishly protesting, as he always did. Except you knew he wasn’t actually annoyed. You knew he never meant it.

Chan had been your best friend for a long while. You’d moved into a brand new part of the city in your very last year of high school. New school, new home, new everything. At that age, it could have been difficult—now, much later, you realized how lucky you had been, because on the first day of school, in the very first class, you sat next to Bang Chan. And the rest was history.

Literally. It had been a history class, and Chan wasn’t particularly interested in history. You started letting him borrow your notes and even copy your homework. In exchange, you were never afraid to be picked last on a team in P.E classes as he would always be team captain and he would always pick you first. Well, unless Changbin threw a fit about it…

Chan had always been into music, and his passion was contagious. He would drag you to concerts and performances, just showing up at your place with tickets. Let’s go, we have a concert in an hour. It was a good thing your mother trusted him. If it had been anybody but the trustworthy Bang Chan, there was no way you’d been allowed to go out so often and come home so late.

Choosing a college major had been one hell of a ride. For a few weeks, you really thought you should take a sabbatical and figure shit out. Well, that had been until Chan had shared with you his very clear plan: he wanted to create a website for musicians. A space for them where they could purchase musical samples and other creative tools, a space where they could exchange with one another, too. Ultimately, he wanted this platform to become somewhere artists could be recruited or discovered by labels and managers. He believed in music, in artists, he just thought the industry didn’t make it easy for them. So I wanna help them, he had said.

Fast forward many years later, you were with Chan on a train on your way to an important online business convention. The platform you two had founded, Melodi, was growing exponentially and business was good. Officially, it was still just the two of you, but once in a while, you hired a couple of freelancers to help out with the website itself.

It had been brought up that you would need to hire them long-term because the business was growing a lot faster than you had expected. That scared you, and although Chan wouldn’t admit to it, you knew it scared him too. He liked to remind you that no matter what happened, you always had each other.

Chan kept on working while you finished your coffee, staring out the window, listening to some music. The scenery was changing a little as you were approaching your destination. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground, but the sky was blue, and you found it beautiful. You didn’t often come to this area, so it was a nice change.

“Seriously, though,” Chan started, his eyes lingering on his screen a few moments before finally making eye contact. “You’ve been drinking more coffee, more energy drinks. Are you not getting enough sleep?”

You knew Chan meant well but you really wished he hadn’t asked that question. No, you hadn’t slept well last night, or the night before, or the one before that. But you couldn’t possibly ever admit that to him, because then he’d ask follow-up questions, inquiring about your health first, then your personal life. All of this out of genuine concern for you.

But you couldn’t possibly ever admit the truth to him.

Chan had been your friend for many, many years. You trusted him. He was funny, intelligent, talented. He was kind, he was warm, and caring. He had been your friend for many years and, for many years, you’d had a little crush on him. Something that started innocently. Simple thoughts of, oh, he looks so handsome today, or wow, did he change his perfume? He smells so good.

There were both pros and cons to starting a business with your friend. For example, when you had a crush on your business partner, it made things really fucking hard.

As you grew up—and then, grew older, the crush had morphed into something else. Something anchored to your heart, maybe from the fact that you lived with these feelings every day, in silence. The flutters of your heart, the flush of your cheeks when Chan hugged you. There was no one in your life you wanted to admit that to, because… because. You just couldn’t. Chan was your business partner. He was your friend.

And maybe that admitting it to somebody would only make it feel so real. There would always be something abstract about unspoken thoughts and feelings, something sacred too. Almost as though this love was just a little too big to be put into simple words and sentences. I have a crush on Chris just didn’t cut it, and it wasn’t like you could just go out for drinks with one of your friends and confide in someone. All of your friends were also his friends, which made things annoyingly awkward.

You looked into Chan’s eyes, taking your time before giving him an answer. You could return him the comment—there were dark circles under his eyes and he basically lived off chocolate milk and those weird chocolate-coated pineapple bites he liked so much. And yet his beauty moved you to your core—you had not gotten used to him, the butterflies had never subsided. Chris was warm and there was no other way to say it. Like a cup of coffee, like a bath with oils and bubbles. You stared at him longer than you needed to, really taking him in. Sometimes it felt overwhelming to be so close to him. He had a sunrise smile. He had eyes like the reflection of the sun on the ocean, twinkling, glinting their light into the world.

“I sleep best I can,” you said finally. “I don’t really control that. You should know a thing or two about this, Mr. Christopher.”

His dimpled smile grew larger. “I mean, yeah, I do.” He chuckled pleasantly but became serious soon again. “Is work getting in the way of your sleep?”

“No more than it does for you.” Sometimes you stayed up to answer emails and do some basic moderating work on the website. Other times you went out for a nighttime walk to listen to a podcast and order an overpriced herbal tea at some coffee shop around the corner. Sometimes you just watched TV. Anything so that you wouldn’t think of Chris too much, except that it seemed to be an impossible task. He never left your mind.

Chris nodded, raising his pen in a gesture of respect. “Deserved, and I get it.” He let out a sigh, putting the pen down next to his laptop on the table in between you two. You turned your gaze back toward the window to look at the scenery, but you were aware that Chris was looking at you more than at the scenery. “Alright then. I’m texting Hyunjin. He’ll be there, right? Didn’t he say he bought a ticket?”

You hummed in agreement. Hyunjin was the first freelancer you had hired to help with the website, as you had some good bases but needed some support in the graphic design department. Chris had met him at a bar one night, overhearing a conversation between Hyunjin and his date, who apparently didn’t seem very interested in him at all. Chris and Hyunjin ended up having a few drinks together, discussing Melodi and Hyunjin’s freelancing.

“Yeah, he said he’d be there, I think there was a panel on freelancing that he wanted to check out, maybe find new clients there too.” You liked Hyunjin. He was excessively talented. He often went above and beyond the terms of his contracts with you two, ending up helping out in other areas. He was surprisingly good at customer service. He had a sweet and soothing energy.

“Well, maybe he won’t have to,” Chris retorted with a shrug. “I think we shouldn’t wait any longer. I think we should hire him ASAP.”

This didn’t come as a surprise as the matter had been discussed before. Actually, one could say Hyunjin was already part of the team in many ways, just not officially. The same could be said about Jisung, who was another freelancer helping with the website itself and web development, as neither you or Chris felt comfortable enough to build a whole website and manage it on your own.

“And Ji too,” Chan added almost as though he could read your thoughts. “Still waiting on his text…” He checked his phone but quickly put it back. “He’s supposed to be attending too. What do you think?”

“I think I’d feel bad if you were offering to hire them sooner than expected just because I drink coffee or don’t sleep well,” you admitted, yet you felt an undeniable warmth in your chest.

Chris had a very strong guardian energy to him, as though he was hyper aware of everything all at once, He also wore other people’s burdens on his shoulders, and nobody could ever stop him from doing so. You knew that. You knew that very well.

“It’s not just that. But it is that a little.” At least, Chan was nothing but excessively honest. Sometimes a little too much, yet you always preferred to be told the truth rather than being spared it. “I mean, we wanted to hire them anyway, didn’t we? I say we talk to them tonight.”

You took a sip from your coffee. It was just right. Or maybe it tasted even better than normal because it was Chan who had prepared it at the coffee machine. “Let’s talk to them tonight. I’ll text Hyunjin and you text Ji?” But Chris had already grabbed his phone. You smiled as you typed a short text to Hyunjin—one thing you knew is that neither he or Jisung would miss an opportunity to spend time with the four of you together.

“Apparently, Ji is only attending tomorrow. I suggested dinner tomorrow night,” Chan said. “I thought we could speedrun a lot of panels today and brainstorm on some stuff tonight. We’ll be more free tomorrow and can hang out with the guys. Think Hyunjin will be okay with that?” He put his phone back on the table, screen up.

For a second, you saw the picture he used as a background—it showed the ocean at dusk, just after the last rays of sunshine had disappeared behind the horizon. The picture almost looked monochrome but you knew it had been taken in color because you had taken that picture last year during a trip with your mother, her sister and a few of your cousins.

You had sent the picture to Chris while rather inebriated. You thought about this moment every time you saw his god fucking phone. You remembered the caption that you had sent along with the picture, too. In fact, you came to realize, the very next morning, that you hadn’t dreamed it, that you had actually sent that text to him.

I spent the day at the beach. I miss you. I wish you were here. I love you.

You two were close. Very close. You were each other’s best friend and confidant. And it wasn’t unexpected for an I love you to be dropped here and there. But you had sent that text with your heart frighteningly heavy with sorrow, with longing, and nothing about it was friendly. While the others had returned to the hotel, you had spent some time alone to really see the sun disappear. Or maybe just to be alone.

Naturally, he had crept up in your thoughts and you had not chased him away. Sometimes it felt good to indulge. To close your eyes and imagine that he was there with you, that Chan’s arms were wrapped around you, warm, safe. That he whispered sweet things into your ear. That he kissed your neck. That he kissed you. That he touched you. That he made love to you. That he made you laugh, that he held your hands while eating your pussy, that asked you to marry him, that he fucked you as hard as he loved you. In another universe, maybe, those things were true instead of being a part of your imagination.

It’s so pretty, totally stealing that pic from you btw. Miss you too, take care. Text me tomorrow if you’re not too hungover, we can make arrangements for when I pick you up at the airport

You had nobody to tell your biggest secret. You couldn’t share that burden, you couldn’t talk it out with anyone. You told him sometimes. I love you. He did not hear it in the way that you meant it. Chris did not speak the same language as you in those moments, but it felt good to utter those specific words to him regardless. It was liberating. It was terrifying.

“Dinner tomorrow night sounds good, we should have something delicious.” In another universe, maybe, he was asking you—just you—on a date or something.

His phone screen faded back to black. You turned your gaze toward the window. In another universe, maybe, he loved you.

... to be continued!

a/n: Hello everyone! I haven't written with Chris in over a year, right? Well, I'm absolutely terrified. I figured that my precious friend's birthday was the perfect occasion to try and reconnect with the guy...

Ren, happiest birthday week to you, and thank you for gracing our community with your art, your talent and your kindness.

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