'Bet you're reminiscing
I bet you hate the way that you said goodbye'
— word count: 4.6k (unedited)
— genre: non-idol au, artist!hyunjin, second chance romance. dance coach!reader
— warning's: softDom!Hyunjin, praise kink. Oral (f receiving). Fluff. Body worship pretty much at this point. He's insanely in love and touch starved. paint is involved. This whole chapter is pretty much smut. y'all have been waiting for this one!
The kiss, once soft and apprehensive, transformed into something unrecognizable—hungry, revealing a longing that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. It was as if the barriers you both carefully constructed over time crumbled immediately.
You shrugged off your coat, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, the sound of fabric crumpling almost unnoticed in the heat of the moment. Your hand reached for the underside of his jaw, fingers trembling slightly as you cupped his face.
Hyunjin's intensity could ignite the very walls of the room. His touch was gentle but insistent, his hands trailing down your body with appreciation, like each inch of you was something sacred he must rediscover. Every soft caress, every brush of his fingertips against your skin felt like an apology, a confession of how much he regretted the years apart.
You whimpered, your hands gripping his biceps as his lips found the curve of your neck. He paused, his breath hot against your skin. "I should have never left you," Hyunjin murmured, his voice rough with emotion, his hands shaking slightly as they moved over you.
The words sent a jolt through your chest, stirring something deep inside you that had been dormant for too long. His mouth returned to yours, desperate now, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you— the feeling of you.
You couldn't help but lean into his touch, every press of his pouty lips and trailing hands sent a wave of heat through you. "Hyune..." you whispered, the sound of his name escaping your lips like a prayer. You felt him stiffen at the sound, as if your voice alone could bind him to you in ways he hadn't thought possible. He responded with a groan, pressing his forehead against yours, his fingers still tracing the curve of your spine.
You trailed your fingers under his jacket, the fabric smooth beneath your touch as you pushed it off his shoulders. The jacket slipped off easily, landing with a soft thud on the wooden floor.
Hyunjin stood before you. Fixed on your lips, his gaze was dark and filled with something that made your breath catch. His hands slid down your sides, firm yet tender. His voice was low and husky, breaking the silence, “Wrap your legs around me."
You hesitated for only a heartbeat before complying. His hands found their way beneath your thighs, firm but gentle as he lifted you effortlessly. Your breath hitched, heart pounding as you curled your legs around his waist. You let out a soft gasp, gripping his shoulders for balance. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt as he carried you toward the kitchen bench.
Your noses brushed and his lips hovered just a breath away from yours. The tension coiled tighter in your chest, the air between you electric, charged with a yearning neither of you could deny. His every step, deliberate and steady.
The cool surface of his kitchen bench met your back as he set you down, but the sensation was quickly overshadowed. His hands never left you, one bracing your lower back while the other caressed your hip, fingers splayed as though he wanted to memorize the feel of you beneath his palm.
His lips found yours with an urgency that stole your breath, his hands cupping your face before sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, fingers threading through his dark hair. His groan was low and guttural, the sound vibrating against your lips and making your toes curl.
You shifted slightly, desperate to get closer and your elbow accidentally knocked a jar of paint perched on the edge of the counter. The lid popped off, covering the countertop with a vivid maroon before it tumbled completely on the floor. The sound startled you, breaking the kiss as you pulled back, your gaze darting to the mess. "Oh, shit."
Hyunjin’s breathless laugh drew your attention back to him. His forehead rested against yours, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. “I’ll clean it up later,” he said, his voice rich with affection.
"Okay," you whispered against him. His hands roamed over your midriff, fingers brushing the bare skin beneath your loose tank top, sending shivers across your skin.
One hand found its way to the small of your back, where his thumb gently traced the curve of your spine. His other hand tilted your chin, drawing your eyes to his. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his gaze burning with sincerity.
The words undid you. You pulled him closer, your lips finding his again, your body arching into his touch. His hands moved back to your thighs, gripping you with a mixture of urgency and care as he pressed against you, his breath hot against your skin. The world around you—the paint-streaked counter, the chaos of spilled color—faded into insignificance. There was only him, his touch and warm kisses.
“Hyunjin,” you breathed against his lips, the sound a mix of plea and confession. His lips brushed against your temple before finding yours again, sealing the moment with passion that spoke louder than words ever could.
His fingers trailed down to your navel, brushing teasingly against your gym shorts. You lifted your hips off the bench, just enough for him to shimmy the material down. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, pulling your shorts and lace panties off in one smooth gesture.
He knelt before you, his hands gliding slowly up and down your legs. "My pretty girl's so needy for me." His lips hovered over your skin, each kiss he pressed to your thighs slow and deliberate.
His fingers traced lazy patterns, the gentle touch making your breath hitch. When he finally reached the center of your need, he paused, looking up at you with a gaze so intense it made your chest ache. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said softly, his hands sliding beneath you, lifting your hips just enough so that you were completely at his mercy.
The first touch of his mouth was tentative, almost exploratory, but it didn’t take long for him to find a rhythm that left you gasping. His tongue moved with a skill that made your head fall back against the bench, each stroke deliberate and precise, as though he were painting a masterpiece. Hyunjin's grip on your hips tightened, holding you steady as your body began to arch involuntarily beneath him. His nose bumped against your clit, his movements sloppy and starved.
“Hyune,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as waves of pleasure coursed through you. He groaned at your touch, the sound vibrating against your skin and sending a fresh surge of heat through your veins.
Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck, was a symphony of sensation, building a crescendo that left you breathless. His name fell from your lips again and again, a broken mantra that only seemed to spur him on, his mouth moving with more urgency, more desperation.
His large hands, splayed on your thighs, gripped you toward him, sliding you along the counter. Your arms, braced against the countertop for balance gave way as he devoured you. Your head fell back instinctively, your fingers curling into fists against the smooth surface as wave after wave of sensation crashed over you.
It wasn’t just his touch—it was the emotion behind it, the raw hunger of three years’ worth of yearning. Three years of missed chances and unspoken confessions all culminating in this single, unrestrained moment. Every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, spoke volumes of everything he had held back for so long.
"Hyune, I-I can't feels too good." You whined, unable to restrain your moans and noises.
His grip on your thighs tightened, his fingertips digging slightly into your skin as if anchoring himself to you. The strength in his hands, the way they seemed to claim you, left you reeling. It was as though he was afraid you might slip away again, vanish from his grasp before he could show you just how deeply he needed you.
You couldn’t help the broken sound that escaped your lips. His eyes flicked up to yours, dark and intense, his face framed by the strands of his hair that had fallen loose. "All mine."
"Always has been," You breathed out, recalling his earlier words.
When he resumed, it was with an unrelenting fervor, his mouth moving against you with purpose and precision. The room seemed to blur around you, the tension coiling in your core growing tighter and tighter. When your body began to tremble, he slowed just enough to prolong the moment, his hands sliding up to intertwine with yours as he continued his worship.
You finally snapped and loud gasps escaped you. The world slowly came back into focus and you found him still holding you, his forehead pressed gently against your thigh. The warmth of his hands, still steady on your legs. He pressed a final kiss to the inside of your thigh before resting his cheek there, his breathing ragged but his expression tender. “Just as good as I remember,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.
You reached for his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as you grasped the fabric and tugged him upward. His body obeyed, fluid and eager, until his face was level with yours. Your eyes flickered downward, catching the evidence of your release glistening on his lips. Heat pooled in your cheeks, before your gaze snapped back to his face.
His hair was a beautiful mess, onyx strands falling haphazardly across his forehead, framing his flushed features. The faint blush dusting his cheeks was a striking contrast to the hunger still lingering in his eyes, an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His lips, slightly swollen and glistening, parted as though he was about to speak, but no words came.
His hands slid to your waist, fingers firm and grounding, steadying you. Your grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him impossibly closer. Before you could second-guess the impulse, you leaned forward. Your tongue flicked across his bottom lip, tasting the lingering saltiness of yourself on him. A small gasp escaped his lips as you followed with gentle, teasing sucks.
A low growl rumbled in his chest, his response immediate. His hands tightened on your waist, guiding you forward, erasing any remaining distance. You could feel the tension in his touch, the restraint he was barely holding onto, and it only spurred you on.
“Don’t tease,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a deep, strained rasp, but you only smiled against his mouth, your kisses featherlight and infuriatingly slow.
“I thought you liked patience,” you whispered, your words taunting, and he chuckled lowly, his breath warm against your cheek.
“Not now,” he replied, his tone thick with yearning.
The paint-streaked countertop and chaos of the kitchen became an afterthought as the warmth of his body pressed into yours. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath.
“We—should move. Bedroom,” You murmured between stolen kisses, your words muffled as you trailed your lips along his jaw.
"Whose the impatient one now?" Hyunjin teased, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. He wrapped his hand around your throat, brushing his thumb gently against your skin.
You rolled your eyes, even as your pulse quickened. “And you’re too busy talking when you could be doing something.”
His brow arched, his grin widening. “Oh, I’m doing something, trust me.” He leaned in, his lips grazing the corner of your mouth, deliberately slow.
Touché. You huffed, trying to tug him closer with your legs around his waist. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, and your legs dangled off the counter, a frown tugging at your lips.
“Impossible?” He leant back on purpose. “You’re the one who can’t wait to get me to the bedroom.”
Your cheeks burnt, but you refused to back down. “Because I know what I want, Hyunjin.”
Your hands glided up his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm and soft beneath your fingers as you let them linger, teasingly tracing the defined lines of his body. A small pout formed on your lips, the realization dawning on you that there were still too many layers.
His laugh was low and teasing as he adjusted his hold on you, pulling you tighter against him. “Then tell me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck, “exactly what it is you want.”
“Not here,” you managed, your voice a little breathless as his lips grazed your jawline. “The bed.”
“Ah,” he murmured, his tone mockingly thoughtful as he shifted you higher in his arms. “The bed."
Your legs slid down from around his waist and his hand found yours, pulling you from the counter. Together, you fumbled through the small space, down the hall to his room. It wasn’t graceful—your hip bumped into the edge of the counter, and his foot grazed a chair leg, sending it skidding across the floor—but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
The hallway felt endless, both of you pausing every few steps to press against the wall, to kiss with renewed fervor, hands exploring skin and fabric, his warm palms cupping your ass, your fingers trailing down the curve of his neck. By the time you reached his bedroom door, you were both breathless, laughter bubbling up between you as he struggled to turn the handle without letting go of you.
“I forgot how terrible you are at multitasking,” you teased, your voice light despite the tension coiling in your chest.
“And you’re not helping,” he retorted, his smile lighting up his face even as his lips found yours again, silencing any further protests. "I'll always be clumsy around my favourite girl."
Finally, the door swung open, and you stumbled inside together. The bed, only a few steps away. His sock caught on the edge of the rug, nearly sending him sprawling, and your elbow knocked into a stack of books on his nightstand, toppling them to the floor with a thud.
When you both landed on the bed, the laughter spilled over, breaking through the haze of passion. He rolled onto his back, pulling you with him, and you collapsed onto his chest, your giggles mixing with his. The sound filled the room, light and unrestrained, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, tangled together, laughing at the absurdity of your own impatience.
“I feel like we’re in a bad rom-com,” you managed between breaths, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.
“Hey,” he replied, mock affronted, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. “This is pure romance, thank you very much. Paint-streaked and clumsy, but still romantic.”
You shook your head, smiling down at him, and his expression softened, the laughter fading into something deeper. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “God, it should be illegal for someone to be this pretty,” he said, his voice quieter now.
Your fingers ghosted over the fabric of his shirt, teasingly brushing against his stomach as he leaned back, his arms casually resting behind his head. There was an ease to his posture, but his eyes betrayed something deeper, following your every movement.
You hooked your fingers under the hem of his shirt and began to lift it, your movements deliberate. The fabric bunched under your hands, revealing the sculpted lines of his abs, firm and glistening faintly in the dim light. A small, involuntary smile crept onto your lips as you paused to admire him. He’d been working out—more than a little, it seemed.
"You seem to be a masterpiece yourself, Jiniret," you murmured, your voice a mix of teasing and awe.
His lips twitched into a playful smirk, but the warmth in his gaze softened the moment. “Takes one to know one."
He paused, his movements deliberate as he gripped the hem of his shirt from you and tugged it off in one smooth motion. The fabric slid over his head effortlessly, revealing his toned chest and shoulders. His hair was mussed, strands falling perfectly into place, and his eyes darkened as they met yours.
Without breaking eye contact, his hands found your waist. His thumbs brushed against your sides, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You slid onto his lap to straddle his waist. Your hands settled on his shoulders, fingers tracing the contours of his muscles as you steadied yourself. Slowly, you reached for the hem of your tank top, pulling it over your head and discarding it beside you.
Left in just your zip-up sports bra, you felt his gaze linger, not with hunger but as though he couldn’t quite believe you were here with him. His hands slid higher, resting just under your ribs, his thumbs brushing against skin.
You gasped as he bucked his hips. He rolled over, pinning your wrists to the bed. His touch, once apprehensive, now became more sure, more eager, as if he was rediscovering something he had lost. His hands roamed over you, as though he was relearning every curve, every dip, every inch of your body that had once been so familiar, so perfectly his.
His eyes, dark with longing, traced the lines of your form. "You feel just as perfect as I remember," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He sighed, a deep, contented sound that made your heart race. "I missed this. I missed you. I missed how you fit against me."
His hand hesitated, hovering just above the zipper of your sports bra. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers grasped the small metal tab, the tension in the air thick enough to make your breath catch.
You held perfectly still, your chest rising and falling in anticipation as the zipper began to slide downward, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet of the room. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.
The fabric parted gradually, exposing your skin inch by inch to the cool air and his heated gaze. You felt your pulse quicken. His touch was light and as he gently pushed the material aside, his fingertips brushing against your bare skin.
"Such pretty tits. Been missing these for some time." He cupped your breasts. He leaned down, his tongue darting out to trace a warm, wet line across your chest before his lips closed around one of your nipples, sucking gently.
"Hyune, as much as I—" you began, but your words dissolved into a sharp gasp as he bit down ever so lightly, the pleasurable sting drawing a soft cry from your lips.
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. "Distracted already?" he teased, his voice low and his eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Hyunjin," you breathed, your voice trembling with a mixture of impatience and desire, "I need you. Please."
You felt him shift against you until he stood at the edge of the bed. His movements were hurried, hands fumbling with the buckle of his belt. The soft clink of metal echoed in the quiet room, followed by the rustle of fabric.
You sat up slightly, your breath hitching as he shimmied out of his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, the garments pooling at his feet. Your gaze traveled down his body, lips parting involuntarily.
His hardened length stood, flushed and glistening at the tip. The way he looked at you sent a shiver down your spine, your own desire pooling low in your abdomen.
He crawled to you, his body pressing into yours, and you couldn’t help but melt. Every part of you seemed to respond to him, to the way his hands caressed your skin to the way you arched into him.
"You were always perfect for me," he breathed, his lips moving down to your neck, the warm, soothing caress of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. "No one else ever came close. No one ever felt the way you do. I didn’t realize what I was missing until I was without you." His hands slid down your body, brushing over your thighs, and you gasped as he gently lifted you, positioning you carefully, mindful of the scar and your spine. "I’m not letting you go again, not like before," he whispered, his voice soft yet insistent.
You wrapped your arms around him, drawing him closer, feeling how his body molded perfectly against yours. His touch, so familiar and warm, was a balm to the ache that had been there for so long. "You still fit with me, don’t you?" he asked, his words almost a question.
You whined in response, and his hands moved to your hips, adjusting your position. Hyunjin's hands were steady as he carefully adjusted a pillow beneath your hips, lifting you just enough to ensure your back was supported. His gaze softened as it traveled over your face, a silent question in his eyes, making sure you were comfortable. The tenderness of the moment tugged at your chest, and you nodded, your breath catching in anticipation.
“You okay?” he whispered, his voice laced with tenderness.
“Perfect,” you murmured, your fingers brushing against his warm cheek.
You felt him then, the weight and heat of him as he aligned himself with your entrance. The sensation sent a shiver through your body, your hands clutching the sheets beneath you. Hyunjin paused, his tip pressing gently against you, his dark eyes locking with yours.
“Slow,” he promised, his voice soothing against the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.
And then he pushed forward, a gradual, unhurried motion that made you gasp softly. The stretch was both intense and overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and yearning that had you curling your toes. Hyunjin leaned closer, his hands finding yours, intertwining your fingers as he continued.
“Baby, you're so tight,” he breathed, his voice breaking slightly as he moved deeper, filling you completely. "Need to be stretched out good again hmm?" A low groan rumbled from his chest as he stilled, buried deep within you, giving you a moment to adjust to the fullness. His breath mingled with yours, warm and shaky, as you both took in the intensity of the moment.
“Mm’ so full,” you murmured, your words spilling out.
His eyes flickered open at your confession, a spark of something primal igniting in their depths. Without a word, his hand trailed down between your bodies, his palm pressing gently against your abdomen. The sensation sent a shockwave of pleasure through you, and a moan slipped from your lips as he applied the slightest bit of pressure.
“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice thick and gravelly, filled with awe. “That’s me.”
Hyunjin’s free hand slid up, his fingers wrapping gently but firmly around your throat. A pant escaped your lips, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a dizzying heat pooled in your core. You opened your eyes, locking onto his, and what you saw in them made your breath hitch—a perfect mix of adoration and unrestrained hunger.
You arched instinctively toward him, craving more of his touch. His other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you in place as his hips rolled into yours with deliberate, intoxicating slowness.
He smirked, leaning down until his lips ghosted over your ear. “You like that?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin. “The way I make you feel?”
You nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence. His hand at your throat shifted, his thumb brushing gently against the hollow of your neck, soothing yet commanding all at once.
Your head fell back against the pillow as he moved again, his hips rolling into yours with an unrelenting, measured rhythm. The thrusts were deep and precise, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.
“Jinnie,” you gasped, clutching at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. The stretch, the fullness, the way he moved—it was almost too much and you didn't want him to stop.
He grinned against your jaw, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there. “My pretty girl… taking me so well.”
His body moved against yours as if he couldn’t get enough of you—of the way you fit together like puzzle pieces. You felt his heart pounding against yours, his breath quickening while he traced every inch of you, as though he was savoring every moment of being this close to you again.
He kissed you fiercely, deeply, like he needed to make sure you were real, that this was happening, that you were here, with him.
And you couldn't help but respond, feeling the same overwhelming yearning, the same need. Your body ached for him, for the connection you once shared, for the way he made you feel complete. No one else could ever come close to what you shared, and in this moment, in his arms, you knew that the past—no matter how much it hurt—had led you both here. And with him, you belonged.
One hand found its way to the small of your back, where his thumb gently traced the curve of your spine. He paused, fingers lingering on the scar there, and you stiffened instinctively. But his other hand tilted your chin, drawing your eyes to his. "You're everything I’ve ever wanted," he breathed against your lips, his hands moving lower, caressing you like he was memorizing your skin. "You have no idea how much I regret not being here with you, how much I wish I could go back and make things right." He kissed you deeply, passionately, as though every word, every apology, could be sealed with the fire of his touch.
He rolled his hips, each movement deliberate, slow, and deep, drawing a gasp from your lips with every thrust. His arms caged you beneath him, strong and unyielding. Your fingers clawed at his back.
“I’m sorry," he whispered again, this time with more force. "I should have been here. I should have fought harder for us.” His fingers were gentle as they traced the scar along your body, and you gasped softly, the memory of the pain flooding back. But his touch was nothing like that. It was tender, careful, almost worshipful. "I won’t let that be a part of us anymore. I won’t let it define us."
His words, the softness of his touch, the weight of everything he was offering—his regret, his love, his unspoken apologies—filled you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. His hands found your hips again, pulling you closer.
“I’ll never let you go again,” Hyunjin groaned, the sound low and guttural, as his hips stilled deep inside you. His chest rose and fell heavily against yours, and you could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat echoing your own. He dipped his head, pressing a tender kiss to your temple, “Not like before. I’ll stay, Y/N. I’ll stay, if you’ll have me. Now let go for me pretty, I'm here.”
Your legs began to tremble, the intensity coursing through your body like waves crashing against the shore. You buried your face into the crook of his neck. Your breaths came in short, desperate bursts as you nuzzled into his skin, seeking solace, though your emotions threatened to overflow. You weren’t sure if the tears pooling in your eyes were from the unbearable pleasure or the weight of his words.
Then, the words tumbled from your lips—a confession you had been too terrified to voice. "I want you to stay."
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