Synopsis: When you signed up for a paid product testing program, you expected free samples and money. What you didn’t expect was to be paired with Hwang Hyunjin and assigned to test a series of increasingly questionable sexual wellness products together. (5,2K words)
Author's note: I hope you're not sick of Cocky yet cause I got one more for you and I swear it's the last one. Hope you enjoy it ❣️
Hyunjin wakes slowly, unwillingly, still caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness. His first instinct is you. Without even opening his eyes, he drags a hand across the bed, fingers lazily searching through the sheets for warmth, for skin, for the familiar shape curled beside him. But all he finds is cold fabric and wrinkled sheets that tell him you’ve been gone long enough for your warmth to disappear.
His brows pinch slightly. Then, finally, he forces one eye open. The space next to him is empty. For a brief second, his still-sleepy brain panics in the dumbest way possible before he hears the faint rush of water coming through the bathroom that is left slightly ajar.
Hyunjin lets out a slow breath and drops back onto the pillow, considering his options. He could wait for his turn to shower and get a few more minutes of sleep before work. Or losing sleep and…
He doesn’t even think twice as he drags himself upright and pushes himself up, lazily rubbing at his face before making his way toward the bathroom, feet dragging against the floor.
The second he pushes the door open wider, warm steam wraps around him. He steps further into the bathroom, leaning against the sink counter while watching you with heavy-lidded eyes. Your figure shifts behind the fogged surface, soft and blurred and unfairly beautiful. Your back arches slightly as your fingers work shampoo through your hair, white foam gathering at the crown of your head while water streams down the curve of your shoulders.
There’s something strangely domestic about it. Something that still catches him off guard. You, in his mornings. You, in his space. You, existing so naturally in his life now that he’s starting to forget there was a time you weren’t there.
Quietly, he starts peeling his clothes off, dropping them one by one onto the bathroom floor without taking his eyes off you for long. The air is warm enough that goosebumps never have the chance to settle on his skin before he slides the shower door open and steps inside.
You still don’t notice him. Not until his shadow stretches across the tiled wall. The second you spot it, you whirl around so quickly your foot slips against the wet floor.
“Whoa—”
Hyunjin catches you instantly, hands gripping your elbows before you can lose balance completely. You let out a startled shriek, eyes wide in horror, and he bursts into laughter immediately at the expression on your face.
“It’s just me,” he says between laughs.
Your hand flies to your chest. “Hyunjin!”
He laughs harder at that.
“You scared me!” you scold, glaring at him while trying to steady yourself. “Don’t sneak in like that!”
“I’m sorry,” he says, still very obviously not sorry at all. “Your face was just—”
You smack his shoulder lightly, and he only laughs more. Eventually, he manages to calm himself enough to reach for the showerhead. “Come here. I’ll wash your hair for you.”
Your expression softens just slightly at that. Then, with a dramatic sigh, you turn around and present your back to him.
Hyunjin grins to himself before adjusting the water temperature and gently rinsing the shampoo from your hair. His fingers work carefully through the strands, scratching lightly against your scalp, slow and soothing. He notices from the way your shoulders loosen, melting into it almost immediately.
He takes his time, thoroughly rinsing every last trace of foam from your hair before running his fingers through the damp strands one last time. “There. Done.”
You turn back toward him, taking the showerhead from his hand. “Thanks.”
He hums, pleased with himself already, before tilting his head slightly and saying, “Your turn now.”
“You can shower yourself,” you simply
“I could,” he agrees immediately. Then he looks at you with sleepy eyes and says, “But I’m too sleepy for it.”
You narrow your eyes because both of you know exactly what he’s doing. And still, you cave.
Hyunjin watches the resignation spread across your face before you hook the showerhead back into place and take his hands instead.
“Stay here,” you mumble.
He obeys instantly and mostly because he likes when you fuss over him. Warm water cascades down over both of you as your hands slide over his skin, wetting his shoulders, his chest, smoothing water across him slowly while your eyes stay fixed on him. And his stay fixed on you. Always on you.
Your expression is still a little sleepy too, softer around the edges this early in the morning, and Hyunjin suddenly thinks this might be his favorite version of you. Not the composed you at work. Not the playful you. Not even the seductive you.
Just this. Barefaced. Warm. Sleepy. Standing close enough for him to feel your breath over the sound of running water.
Your hands move across his shoulders again, gentle and absentminded now, and Hyunjin’s own hands instinctively settle on your waist.
As if you sense his eyes on you, you glance up at him. “What?”
He shakes his head once. “Nothing.”
But his thumbs brush lightly against your skin anyway. Because sometimes he still can’t believe this is real, that he gets mornings like this now, gets you looking at him like he belongs here.
Hyunjin continues watching the way your hands move over him. Your palm glides across his damp skin in slow, attentive rubs, spreading water over his chest with such gentleness, such quiet admiration, that it sends a shiver racing down his spine.
The warmth of the shower should be enough to ground him, but every touch from you only makes him feel more sensitive, more aware. Especially when your eyes follow your own hands. Lower. And lower. Then your gaze lifts, your eyes meet his immediately, through the steam and tension, like you’re letting him see all the wild thoughts flashing through your eyes.
You turn away for a second, reaching for the bottle of body wash, squeezing an unfair amount into your palm before suddenly placing your other hand flat against his chest. And then you push. Hard.
His back hits the cold tiled wall with a soft thud, the contrast between the freezing surface and your warm body making a low gasp slip out of him.
A small smile pulls at your lips, pleased with yourself, while Hyunjin can only stare at you in surprise.
You give it a moment, letting the anticipation builds and then, slowly spread the soap across his chest, working your hands downward with maddening patience. Foam slips over his skin beneath your palms while water cascades down your shoulders and wrists, dripping from your fingertips onto him.
Hyunjin thinks he might actually lose his mind before breakfast. His hands instinctively settle on your waist, thumbs brushing over the damp skin there while he watches you continue your careful work downward.
When your hand finally wraps around his semi-hard length and lingers there, he lets out a quiet hiss through his teeth before smirking down at you.
“You’re putting too much focus on that area,” he teases.
Without breaking eye contact, you simply say, calm and smooth, “Because it’s the one that needs the most attention.”
The answer hits him embarrassingly hard. He laughs under his breath, head falling back lightly against the tile for a second before he looks at you again with something darker settling behind his eyes. “Is that so?”
You only hum, fingers moving slowly around his cock, thumb circling the little slit on the tip, light but full of intention. But it’s the way you maintain an eye-contact with him that snaps the last thread of restraint in him.
His hand slides up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your damp hair as he pulls you closer. Then he leans down and kisses you.
The kiss lands with all the heat that’s been simmering between you since he stepped into the shower—mouths parting instantly, your breath mingling with his beneath the spray of water. He feels your body press into his, slick skin against slick skin, and the sound you make into his mouth nearly wrecks him.
Steam curls around the two of you, warm and thick enough to blur the edges of everything except you. Except the way your hand continuously stroking his cock, the touch is light around the head and tightening around the base. The cold tile against his back makes every touch feel sharper, hotter.
His hand tightens slightly at the nape of your neck before he kisses you again, deeper and hungrier this time. Your lips part beneath his instantly, like you’ve been waiting for it too, and he feels your breath stutters when he pulls you closer until your wet body presses flush against his.
The shower runs over yours, trickling down between your bodies in warm rivulets. You kiss him back with the same slow intensity, fingers still pumping his cock lazily, and he lets out a quiet groan into your mouth at the feeling. He’s barely awake and yet somehow completely overwhelmed already.
“You said you were sleepy,” you whisper when you finally pull back just enough to breathe.
“I am,” he says immediately, voice rough.
You raise an eyebrow at that.
“But suddenly,” he continues, brushing his nose against yours, “I feel much better.”
You laugh softly at that, the sound swallowed by the spray of water and the closeness between you. He thinks he could live inside this moment forever—your smile inches away from his, your hands on him, the quiet intimacy of an ordinary morning turned into something unbearably tender. And at the same time, highly arousing.
Then you press another kiss to the corner of his mouth and murmur, “Good. Because I’m not done washing you yet.”
Hyunjin groans quietly when you tug him under the spray of water again, rinsing the remaining suds from his skin before they dry there. This time you use both hands, gliding them over his shoulders and chest, fingertips trailing lower just enough to tease him before dragging back upward again.
He watches you the entire time. The concentration on your face. The way droplets cling to your lashes. The warmth in your eyes when you look at him. Then your hands gather at the nape of his neck and you rise onto your toes to kiss him again.
Hyunjin kisses you back instantly as water continues running down both of your bodies while your mouths move together slowly, deeply, like neither of you is in any hurry to stop. He could stay like this for hours. But then your hand slips down his arm, take his hand gently and tug at it.
He follows without question, watching you turn around until your back faces him. One of your palms presses against the fogged glass wall for balance while you pull him closer behind you.
And when you glance over your shoulder at him, your gaze is a little dazed and full of heat.
“Come,” you quietly murmur, almost like a whine. “Put it in.”
God. This sight of you, the shape of your body under the warm light with your ass slightly lifted higher, exposing how wet you are for him. Oh, he’s done for.
You move your hips to the back, the back of your thigh nudging his already swollen member. “Hurry,” you whine, almost like a plead.
Hyunjin doesn’t need to be told twice. He strokes himself once, twice, trying to steady the sudden rush of want flooding through his cock before guiding it toward your entrance. he places his hands on each ass cheeks, parting them open so he can easily slip way into you. The second he pushes into you in one smooth motion, both of you gasp at the feeling all over again.
It’s warm. It’s tight. It’s fucking perfect.
He shuts his eyes for a brief second, forehead dropping against your shoulder while he lets himself adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being inside you again. His hands settle on your hips first, grounding himself there, before one drifts upward to your chest, kneading slowly, greedily on your breasts. The other slips lower between your thighs, fingers teasing at your sensitive, pulsating clit that always makes your breath shake. And the sound you let out, low and breathless, a sexy mewl that nearly ruins him.
Your breath fogs the glass in front of you as you moan softly, body arching back into him while Hyunjin buries his face in the crook of your neck. He kisses the damp skin there again and again, tongue collecting the beads of water before he sucks on the skin and begins moving. His thrusts are slow at first. Then deeper. Harder.
The sound of water hitting tile mixes with your breathing, your quiet moans, the wet slide of skin against skin. His hand never stops touching you, relentlessly drawing more reactions from you while his hips snap into yours from behind. And every time you clench around him, Hyunjin feels his control slipping further.
“Fuck,” he groans against your neck, gripping your hips tighter.
You’re holding onto the glass now, head tipped back against his shoulder as he drives into you harder, faster, pushing you flush against the glass wall. Your noises grow louder, more helpless, and he swears it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard.
He can feel how close you are. And honestly, he’s tethering right on the edge with you.
The moment your body finally gives in, tightening hard around him as pleasure crashes through you, he follows almost immediately after. He holds you tightly through it, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you steady when your body slumps against his.
For a second neither of you says anything. You’re both just breathing, recovering, existing together beneath the hot spray of water. Then you turn your head slightly and he catches your lips in a hurried kiss, still dizzy from everything, still unable to stop kissing you whenever you’re this close.
Eventually he straightens, hands gripping your hips again, gentle now. Then he pulls back carefully, easing out of you with a quiet groan. His eyes widen at the sight of his cock dripping from your mixed essence but what gets him dizzy is the way his seed dripping out of you — white and thick fluid, gushing out of your little hole.
He can’t believe that he came that much inside you but what surprises him more is how well you take it all. He pulls you close until your back hitting his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he captures your lips for a passionate, rewarding kiss.
You abruptly break the kiss and mutter against his lips, “It’s still coming out.”
Without looking, he reaches between your legs, feeling the warm fluid flooding his hand and you’re right, more of his seed coming out of you.
He smiles lazily against your lips. “I’ll clean it up for you.”
He grabs the showerhead gently, rinsing you off with surprising care despite the lingering haze in his own head. Hand moving with such gentleness, fingers rubbing between the folds and then circling around the entrance. Once he’s done, he hangs it back up and pulls you beneath the water with him again, immediately stealing another kiss because apparently, he’s incapable of not doing that now.
When he finally pulls away, he grins at you. “Stimulation rating? Ten out of ten.”
You snort softly, not expecting that.
“But,” he continues with exaggerated seriousness, “cleanliness rating? Five out of ten.”
That finally breaks you into full laughter, bright and warm and echoing against the tiled walls.
Hyunjin laughs too, wrapping his arms around you tightly and tugging you against his chest before pressing a kiss to your wet cheek. And he thinks he couldn’t find a better way to start his morning.
-
Hyunjin finishes buttoning his shirt while watching you through the mirror.
You’re seated in front of the vanity, carefully applying the last touches of your makeup with the kind of concentration he’s grown weirdly fond of. The morning sunlight spills through the bedroom windows, catching on the side of your face and the damp ends of your hair, and for a moment he just quietly admires you. You look so effortlessly like home now.
Meanwhile, he’s already dressed for work while you’re still sitting there in your bathrobe, one leg crossed over the other as you lean closer to the mirror to fix something near your eye. And yes, it’s his fault. The shower definitely delayed things. Not that he regrets it. He’s not sorry. At all.
You finally cap your lipstick and rise from the chair with a soft sigh before heading toward your closet, already scanning through hangers with that faint crease between your brows. And sooner or later, you’re probably going to blame him for making the two of you late because he “insisted on showering together,” even though you were very much involved in it too.
So before you can start stressing about schedules and timing, he decides to be useful for once. He walks up behind you quietly just as you’re reaching for a blouse. He slips an arm loosely around your waist and leans down to place a quick kiss against the bare skin of your neck.
“I’ll get breakfast ready,” he murmurs against your skin.
You glance back over your shoulder at him, expression instantly softening. “Okay.”
There’s something dangerously domestic about that single word. Something that makes his chest feel warm in a way he still hasn’t gotten used to. He smiles before leaning in one more time to kiss your cheek. “Do me a favor and wear that sexy, lace bra underneath.”
You narrow your eyes at him instantly. “Do me a favor and don’t burn my kitchen.”
He gasps dramatically. “Wow. No faith in me at all.”
“Last time you almost smoked the pan making eggs.”
“That happened once.”
“It happened twice.”
Hyunjin clicks his tongue in fake annoyance while you laugh softly under your breath, already turning back toward your closet again. He lingers for another second anyway, eyes trailing over you in your bathrobe, your still slightly damp hair, the quiet comfort of this routine forming between the two of you. Then he finally forces himself away before he gets distracted again.
As he heads downstairs toward the kitchen, he catches himself smiling for absolutely no reason. Or maybe for every reason.
-
Hyunjin is halfway through getting breakfast ready when he realizes he has absolutely no idea where you keep the good bowls. He stands in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, cabinet door hanging open while he squints inside and eventually, he settles for the plain white ones.
He pours cereal into both bowls with the kind of concentration that would make anyone think he’s preparing a five-star meal instead of breakfast that requires approximately zero cooking skills. He’s about to grab the milk from the fridge when he notices that you just stepped out of the bedroom, already dressed for work now.
His eyes trail over you automatically as you descend the stairs—the neat blouse tucked into your skirt, your work bag hanging from your shoulder, the soft shine of your hair tied into a neat bun.
God. You always look unfairly pretty in the mornings.
Hyunjin grabs the carton of milk and walks it over to the dining table just as you reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Morning again,” he says with a grin.
You glance at him and smile softly. “Morning.”
You place your bag and blazer on the sofa before walking to the dining table, your eyes immediately land on the two bowls of cereal. On the milk carton proudly sitting between them like he’s accomplished something groundbreaking. Your expression slowly twists into a pure befuddlement.
When you look at him, Hyunjin only shrugs as he sets your cup of coffee down. “You told me not to burn the kitchen, so…”
You only shake your head like you expected this, still smiling as you take your seat and reach for your coffee first. He catches the way you close your eyes slightly after the first sip, like your soul is finally returning to your body.
Cute. Everything you do is annoyingly cute now.He sits across from you and starts eating while the two of you fall into easy conversation. Work schedules. The weather. Whether traffic is going to be horrible today. Random little comments in between bites and sips of coffee.
It feels so normal, so natural and maybe that’s what gets him the most. Because this is something Hyunjin used to think only happened to other people. Not him.
But here you are, sitting across from him, heartily eating a bowl of his favorite cereal, stifling your yawns by pressing your lips together, occasionally nudging his foot under the table without even realizing it. And somehow you chose him. Every day, you keep choosing him.
Hyunjin catches himself staring again, spoon paused halfway to his mouth while the dumbest grin slowly spreads across his face.
You notice immediately, eyes narrow slightly before you chuckle. “Stop grinning like that. You look stupid.”
That only makes his grin widen. “Can’t help it.”
“You’re being weird.”
“I’m in love. That’s different.”
You groan softly while trying and failing not to smile into your coffee cup.
Hyunjin leans back in his chair, completely pleased with himself before gesturing dramatically toward your bowl. “Enjoy your cereal, by the way. This is the last time I’m sharing my cereal with you.”
You give him a look of disbelief. “You’re still upset about that?”
“You almost finished the entire box.”
“It’s just cereal.”
“But it’s my cereal.”
“What’s yours is mine,” you casually conclude with a smile,
Hyunjin has no come back for that and laughs under his breath. And yeah, what’s his is yours. But you— you are his only.
-
Hyunjin drums his fingers lightly against the steering wheel as the car glides through the morning traffic, sunlight slipping through the windshield in warm streaks that land across your thighs, your hands, the side of your face. You’re beside him with your tablet balanced on your lap, already halfway mentally at work even though the office building is still twenty minutes away.
He glances at you briefly before asking, “Will you be working late?”
You hum absentmindedly. “Depends.”
“That’s not an answer.” He nudges your knee with the back of his hand at a red light. “We have to strategically plan our night. If we should get takeout or have dinner out. I’m trying to be a thoughtful boyfriend here.”
That gets a small smile out of you. “I’ll probably come home late. There’s a meeting after lunch and I still need to revise—”
Hyunjin already knows the tone of your voice when you start slipping into work mode. Your posture straightens a little. Your brows knit together. Your fingers start moving faster over the screen as you launch into talking about his designs, about the presentation draft, about whether the color palette would work better if—
But when he pulls the car into the company parking basement and parks between the familiar concrete lines, he finally turns the engine off and gives you a look.
“We’re not at work yet,” he says, slightly irritated.
“So?” you innocently ask.
“So,” he repeats slowly, then unbuckles his seatbelt with a click before leaning back against his seat. “You’re not allowed to talk about work.”
You stare at him for a second before letting out a soft scoff. “Then what do you want to talk about?”
Hyunjin looks at you and then his eyes flick down to your mouth. At the way your lipstick is slightly faded from the coffee you drank earlier. At the way you’re sitting there in your perfectly pressed outfit while still somehow looking like someone he’d happily spend entire mornings tangled up with in bed.
Then he says simply, “I don’t want to talk.”
Your eyebrows lift just slightly in confusion and before you can ask, Hyunjin reaches over, cups the side of your face firmly in his hand, and pulls you into him. The kiss lands rough and sudden. Warm lips crashing against yours with enough force to make you laugh into it at first, surprised by him, by how dramatic he is before nine in the morning. Your laugh vibrates against his mouth, soft and breathy, and he swears it only makes him kiss you harder.
“Hyunjin—”
He kisses you again before you can finish, slowly yet greedily. Like he’s been waiting the entire drive to do this.
Your hand finally comes up to grip the front of his jacket as you start kissing him back properly, and he immediately melts into it with a pleased hum. His thumb brushes along your jaw while your lips move against his, soft and addictive in a way he still hasn’t recovered from.
-
The engine is off, but the heat inside the car hasn’t caught up yet. It lingers between you, around you, in the way Hyunjin’s lips keep finding yours like he’s trying to memorize something he already knows too well.
You don’t even remember who leaned in first. All you know is that his hand is warm against your jaw, thumb brushing just under your ear as he kisses you like time is something he can bargain with if he just holds on a little longer and God, you let him. Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer, breathing him in like you won’t see him in… what, an hour? Less?
His mouth drags against yours again and it’s only when you notice the watch on your that you catch a glimpse of the time. The windows are fogging faintly by the time you pull back just enough to breathe, your lips still brushing his as you speak.
“We’re going to be late.”
He hums like he didn’t hear you. Or worse—like he doesn’t care. His hand tilts your face right back toward him and he kisses you again, stealing whatever protest you had left.
You almost give in. Almost. But then your hands press against his chest, gentle pushing him away.
“Time for work,” you firmly say, leaving no chance for argument.
He groans like you’ve personally betrayed him, head tipping back against the seat as he runs his hand through his dark hair.
You reach into your bag, pulling out your lipstick and compact mirror, flipping it open only to catch the way your lips are wet and a little swollen. You take your time to fix your makeup, applying a fresh coat of lipstick like it would hide the fact that you and Hyunjin made out in the car before work.
When you’re done, you press your lips together, then glance at him.
He’s already looking at you. Of course he is. “That looks good on you,” he says, voice still a little rough around the edges.
“Thank you.”
“Makes me want to kiss you again.”
You snap the compact shut before he can act on it. “Don’t even think about it.”
But you soften anyway, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. When you pull away, there’s the faintest trace of your lipstick left behind. A mark. A claim.
You inhale air to steady yourself and sweetly murmur, “Have a good day at work.”
He smiles back and says it back, “You too.”
Thankfully, the elevator is empty when it arrives which gives you extra time to slip yourself back into work mode. But Hyunjin insists on standing next to you. You elbow his side, sending him staggering dramatically to the corner and yet, he scoots back to your side, even closer now.
This time, you shove his arm a little harder and groan, “Go away.”
And Hyunjin once again back to your side in a second, a grin tugging at his lips.
The elevator dings when it arrives in the lobby and the doors slide open. You almost jolt out of your skin when Gabe steps in. Her eyes flick from you—to Hyunjin—to the space between you that suddenly feels very, very small.
“Morning,” she says with a bright smile that you’re sure is aimed solely at Hyunjin.
“Morning,” you echo, far too quickly.
She moves to the other side of the elevator, but the silence that follows is anything but empty.
You can feel her looking, feel the questions stacking up and then, of course, Hyunjin casually slips an arm around your shoulders. You turn your head so fast it almost hurts, shooting him a glare sharp enough to cut.
He looks at Gabe and grins as he casually says, “I decided to keep the stray cat.”
Gabe looks confused for a second and then cracks a laugh, surprised and amused all at once. “Good to know.”
You shove his arm off your shoulder, muttering under your breath, but it only makes him smile wider.
The elevator finally stops at your floor. You don’t wait to step out of it and Gabe follows you, and just before the doors slide shut, Hyunjin calls out—
“Have a great day, ladies!”
You try to remain calm but you catch the way he’s winking at you just a second before the doors completely shut.
By the time you reach your desk, everything looks exactly the same as it always has.
Same files. Same chair. Same routine waiting for you to slip back into work.
Gabe hovers for a second before sitting, then looks at you. “Do you notice how Hyunjin looks happy lately?”
You don’t even look up from your desk. “Isn’t that a good thing?” you casually answer.
She leans back in her chair, still thinking. “Well, yeah. But like— he’s happier than usual.”
You hum, noncommittal. “You think so?”
A moment passes in silence. Then Gabe suddenly gasps, dramatic as ever, leaning forward with wide eyes. “Wait—do you think he’s dating someone?”
Your heart dips but you school your face to remain neutral. A part of you can’t help but entertain the idea. So you say, lightly, “Yeah. He looks like he is.”
Gabe lights up instantly, hands clasping together like she’s just uncovered a mystery. “Oh my god. Who is she?”
You finally let yourself smile like you’re intrigued by the juicy office gossip. “I have no idea,” you say, voice steady but edged with playfulness.
You decide that’s how much you only want to share with everyone because what you and Hyunjin have is not something you want to hand over to the world just yet. So you let Gabe wonder and let the office buzz with guesses and theories and names that don’t belong to you.
And instead, you turn back to your work, but your focus shatters when your phone chimes with a new text message. Catching his contact name in bold, you open it right away.
“On my way to Seungmin’s office now.”
You press your phone to your chest, lean back on your chair and laugh quietly to yourself. You know now that some things are changing. Some things are staying the same.
But this quiet and hidden, yours kind of love—
is exactly where it’s meant to be.
-
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Synopsis: When you signed up for a paid product testing program, you expected free samples and money. What you didn’t expect was to be paired with Hwang Hyunjin and assigned to test a series of increasingly questionable sexual wellness products together. (26,1k words)
Author's note: It's here. The final chapter is here. Thank you to each and every one of you who have been following this series. I hope you enjoy this one last one ❣️
You wake slowly. Your lashes flutter, the world still soft around the edges as you shift slightly against the bed, the sheets tangled somewhere around your legs. For a second, you don’t move, just lying there, letting sleep cling to you before you put your hand reaches and fumbles blindly across the bedside table, grabbing your phone, bringing it close enough to squint at the screen.
You slightly jolt at the realization that half of the day went by. “What—?” Your voice comes out hoarse, disbelieving.
You push yourself up slightly, brushing your hair away from your face and just sit there, back leaning against the headboard to give your brain time to catch up. You turn your head to the side and find Hyunjin still asleep. He’s sprawled across the bed with arms stretched, one leg half hanging off the mattress, the duvet completely kicked aside. It’s like he’s making snow angel in his dream.
You shake your head as a soft laugh slips out of you. You move his arm, setting it beside him as you shift closer. Your body naturally finding its place against his, and you nuzzle your face into the warm curve of his neck.
“Hey, wake up,” your voice comes out low and a little hoarse.
He’s too deep in his slumber to even respond. You try again by gently poking his cheek with your finger, followed by small, ticklish kisses along his jaw. Still, nothing. Not even a twitch.
You pull back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him as you sigh in annoyance, “Unbelievable…”
Well, if he won’t wake up, you will make him. You slide off the bed and walk over to the window, fingers gripping the curtain before pulling it open in one swift motion. Daylight instantly floods in, filling every corner of the room with bright, unforgiving late afternoon sun.
You turn to look at him, waiting if it does something to him and to your surprise, nothing. You exhale sharply through your nostrils and march back to the bed. You don’t even hesitate to jump and the mattress sinks as you land beside him, bouncing slightly as you lean over him.
“Come on! Wake up!” You say, pulling at his arm.
Finally, he stirs just slightly and groans. Then his arms moves as it reaches for you, wrapping around your waist and pulling you down with him. You let out a small sound of surprise as you collapse onto his chest.
Hyunjin is already settling again, eyes remain closed, breathing slow and even. Like he’s already halfway back to sleep again.
You huff softly and stack your hands together on his chest, resting your chin on it. Then you just watch him, all his beautiful features that complement each other perfectly. At the sight of his lips, an intrusive thought pops in your head and almost without thinking, your fingers lift, tracing lightly over his soft, plump lips.
Another intrusive thought pops and you cave in immediately — you lean down to press your lips against his, placing a gentle, lingering kiss on him.
You pull away just enough to put an inch between your lips. “Wake up. I’m hungry…” you mumble with coaxing tone.
He doesn’t answer, but his arms tighten around you, holding you closer. A bit later, he shifts and lifts his head to close the inch between your lips for a soft, sleepy kiss. Then he drops back onto the pillow.
He takes a moment to gather his senses and then his eyes fluttering open. When they meet yours, he breaks into a lazy grin. A gentle hand lands on the top of your head, thumb tucking away a strand of hair on your temple.
“Room service?” he murmurs.
You shake your head. “No. Let’s go out.”
He stares at the ceiling, like he’s thoughtfully considering it. Then he nods. “Okay.”
You smile and place a quick kiss on his lips. “I’m going to get ready,” you say.
You press your hands into the mattress, about to push yourself up when all of a sudden, his arms tighten again and holding you in place.
“Hey—”
“Five more minutes,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.
You glare down at him. “Just five?”
“Mmm-hm.”
“Just five more minutes,” you warn as you let yourself sink back down, melting into him.
However, five minutes turn into… more than five. By the time the two of you step out of the hotel for a late lunch and it turns into an early dinner. Despite it, the food tastes better and maybe because you skipped an entire half of the day with sleep. Or maybe it’s just him. Either way, you both finish the meals rather too quickly.
On the bright side, it gives you and him time to walk down to the beach, just in time to enjoy the sunset.
By the time you’re sitting on the sand, side by side, the sky is already starting to shift, the blue deepening, warm colors slowly bleeding into the horizon as the sun lowers itself toward the water.
You pull your knees up slightly, arms wrapped loosely around them as you watch. “Can’t believe we just wasted another day like that…” you sigh with a pout.
Hyunjin leans back, hands propping against the sanding behind him. “We didn’t just waste it,” he mutters in disagreement.
You turn your head and narrow your eyes at him. “If only you weren’t scowling and upset with me all the time,” you say, teasing him.
He scoffs at that and without looking at you, he says, “Pfft… I told you I wasn’t upset.”
“Yeah, but you were scowling.”
“I wasn’t.”
You softly laugh and then playfully bump his shoulder with yours. “Yet you’re the one who says why I’m the girl with the adorable scowl,” you casually say, glancing sideway to see his reaction.
It takes him seconds to process your words and realizes where they came from. Yet, he decides to act oblivious and coyly says, “What are you talking about?”
You glare at him, giving him another shoulder bump. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t know.”
He just looks at you, feigning innocence like he never heard it before. Or that those exact words firstly came out of his own mouth.
“I know you recommended me to Jane. For the test program,” you tell him.
Hyunjin pauses for a second and then smirks. Like you figuring it out just now is entertaining.
Offended, you elbow his side, but he barely reacts. “You acted so convincingly at the seminar. Like you didn’t know we were paired.”
That gets him bursting into laughter, his head tilting back slightly, shoulders shaking as the sound escapes him freely.
It annoys you even more so you elbow him again, a little harder. “Stop laughing.”
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.
You cross your arms slightly, turning more serious now. “Why did you choose me anyway?”
That question lingers a little longer than the others. Hyunjin simply shrugs and says, “Because I wanted to annoy you.”
You elbow him again. “Be serious!”
He laughs again, dodging slightly this time. “Okay, okay—”
He thinks for a second and then tries again. “Because it’d be fun. Doing it with you.”
The answer is more honest than before but you elbow him anyway. Harder. “Try again.”
“Hey—” he winces, hand coming up to his side. “That one hurt.”
“Good.”
He exhales, rubbing his ribcage. This time, he looks at you as he seriously answers. “Because I always wanted to get close to you and I just didn’t know how.”
You go quiet. Your gaze softens without you meaning it to. A smile starts to form anyway and you look away before he can see too much of it, looking back to the horizon where the sky is now painted in orange and pink, the sun dipping lower, reflecting across the water.
“You should’ve chosen Gabe,” you say, almost absentmindedly.
“What’s the fun in doing it with someone who already likes me?” he says without a beat.
You let out a scoff of disbelief. “Yeah, sure, the girls go crazy for a cocky guy like you,” you sneer.
He turns to you and beams as he lightly says, “See? Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?”
You try not to fall in easily but a soft laugh slips out before you can stop it. And when he puts his arm around you, you instantly lean into him, fitting there easily.
Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss on the top of your head and then brings his mouth close to the side of your head. “I know you like this cock,” he whispers with a teasing edge.
You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes and letting him see the way yours widen in surprise. You elbow him again, but this time is more like a nudge.
He laughs in satisfaction and draws you closer to his side. “I mean, I know you like this cocky guy,” he corrects, still laughing.
A beat later, he corrects again, “A charming, cocky guy.”
You shake your head at that but at the same time, can’t help the way your lips curve into a smile.
He looks at you, still with that grin on his face and then he presses a gentle kiss on your lips, long enough for the warmth of it to spread all over you.
When the kiss breaks, the two of you turn your head back to the way the sun sinking deeper into the horizon, the sky darkens and the air cooling. The way everything else feels like it’s slowing down around you.
Aside from the fact that everything happened before this is not as accidental as you think.
But this, here, right now — you’re both here because you chose to be with each other.
In this moment.
-
The elevator is empty when you step in. Hyunjin hurriedly presses the number to your hotel floor without letting go of your hand and soon, the doors slide shut. Before the elevator even starts moving, you reach for him. Your fingers gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him forward until he’s standing right in front of you, your back pressing lightly against the wall.
He doesn’t resist. Instead, his hands come to your waist, holding you steady as his eyes drop to meet yours. “So, what’s our plan for the night?” he casually asks, but there’s something underneath it.
You glide your hands up his arms, hands resting on the nape of his neck, playing softly with the strands of hair there. You don’t answer. You just keep looking at him and that alone is enough to create tension between you and him.
His grip tightens just slightly at your waist. “Are you hungry already? Should we get room service later?” he asks, a smirk threatening to show.
With the hand rested on the back of his head, you pull him closer and without the slightest bit of hesitation, you kiss him.
It catches him off guard for a fraction before he melts into it, kissing you back like he’s been waiting for it with one hand stays on one side of your waist, the other trailing up your spine.
You open your mouth wider just to let him have as much taste as he can, letting him deepens the kiss and then slowly, you pull away. But he follows, chasing for your lips, for another kiss.
Before he can execute it, the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Then a group of people steps inside. And just like that, Hyunjin stops and straightens, but he stays where he is, close to you.
You can’t help but chuckle seeing his exasperated expression and the way he tries to compose himself. But his eyes— His eyes are still on you.
Feeling mischievous, you tilt your head just slightly, gaze dropping to his lips before flicking your eyes up and stare deeply into his eyes. You pull him close, close enough that only he can hear you when you speak.
“I have a plan for us tonight.”
This time, he stops himself from hiding his smirk. “Yeah?”
You rise onto your tiptoes, allowing you to speak right into his ear. Your lips lightly grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper, “Trust me. It’ll be fun.”
You linger there for a few more seconds before pulling back and look at him. The smile you give him is flirtatious and knowing. Like you didn’t just leave him there, caught between curiosity, intrigue… And something else entirely.
The elevator continues to climb, floor by floor and you can tell that Hyunjin is wondering what you have planned for tonight.
-
The second Hyunjin closes the door behind him and then turns, you run to him. Your hands grabbing onto him, your body colliding into his hard enough that it pushes him back a step and at the same time, your lips crash into his.
Hyunjin lets out a soft, surprised sound against your mouth, caught off guard by the force of it, but it only takes him a heartbeat before he’s kissing you back. Eagerly, like this is the only thing he thinks about since the elevator.
Your bodies tangle immediately, moving clumsily that your feet stepping over each other, as you push him backward, guiding him toward the bed without breaking the kiss. The kiss is messy and breathless, desperate in places. Yet you don’t stop, you keep steering until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. And then, you pull away, gasping for air when your mouths finally detached.
You flash him a smirk as you put both hands on his chest and then push him, hard and he falls back onto the mattress. A soft exhale escaped his parted as he lands, eyes already on you with excitement flickering in them. His smirk returns like a tell that he’s already enjoying this. Like he wants to see what you’ll do next.
You don’t make him wait for it. You climb onto him, straddling him easily, your knees settling on either side of his hips as you lean down and put your lips on him again. This time, you kiss him harder and deeper, teeth gently biting at his lower lip, tongue twirling around his.
Hyunjin’s hands coming up to your waist, gripping, pulling you closer like there’s even space left between you. You let him yourself get drawn to the temptation, feeding in on his hunger for you.
When your lungs start to burn and your breath turns uneven, only then do you pull away. Reluctantly. Your hand comes up beside his head, bracing yourself as you hover over him, looking down.
He’s already looking back at you with dark, lustful eyes and solely focused on you. His hand lifts, brushing your hair away from your face, tucking it back gently like he doesn’t want anything in the way of seeing you.
“Is this the fun plan?” he asks, voice a little rough.
You seductively smile and then lean down to press a quick, innocent kiss to his lips. “No.”
That throws him and you immediately see the confusion on his face. You pull back with a small smirk and cup his jaw. “Give me a few minutes as I get things ready,” you say.
His eyebrow lifts and you can almost see every thought running through his head, every possibility stacking on top of each other. It almost makes you laugh at how much you enjoy this. Instead, you lean in again, stealing one more kiss before pulling away completely.
“Now, wait here and don’t come out until I call you.”
With that, you slide off him, off the bed, leaving him there watching you as you step back. You walk toward the sliding doors, each hand reaching to pull them closed. Before you shut them completely, you pop your head in between and warn him one last time.
“Stay and wait here.”
You doubt that he hears you right or that he’d listen to your warn anyway. You lift a finger and pointing it at him. “Don’t come out until I call you,” you warn again, firmer but with a playful smile decorated your face.
Hyunjin doesn’t answer or confirm, he only grins at you. You choose to trust him that he’ll be a good boy and does as you instructed. Then you take one last step back and close the doors
-
Hyunjin stays where you left him. He’s lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and patitently waiting for your call. It’s only been a minute, he’s sure he needs to wait longer so he lets out a quiet sigh, a disbelieving huff slipping past his lips as one hand brushes his dark locks to the back.
What just happened?
Hyunjin slowly backtracked everything he did together with you. Waking up to your soft, loving call of his name. Ate late lunch/early dinner together. Enjoyed the beautiful sunset together. You found out that he recommended you to Jane and wasn’t upset about it as he thought you would. You whispered that you have a fun plan prepared for tonight. You kissed him, pushed him hard onto the bed. You kissed him more, straddling him and pining him under. And now, you’re making him wait as you’re preparing something behind those doors.
He lets his arms stretch out before tucking them behind his head and stares up as his mind slowly catching up with everything.
It’s a lot to process all at once, but strangely, he doesn’t feel overwhelmed. If anything… He feels good that everything is out and that it doesn’t make things awkward or complicated. He feels really, really good.
And while he waits, his thoughts drift back to you, to whatever you’re doing behind those doors. There’s only so many directions his brain wants to go and none of them are exactly innocent. He exhales through his nose, a smirk forming as he shifts slightly on the bed as he lets himself indulges in the imaginations.
Maybe you’re changing into something… nice. Something you know would surprise him in so many ways, except innocently. Or maybe, you’re going around the room, setting a few things to be more ‘in the mood’. Or maybe—
Oh, man. The longer he waits, the more his imagination fills in the blanks and the more impatient he gets.
With a small groan, he rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes fixed on the doors like he can somehow will them open faster. But nope, they’re still closed, still quiet.
“Few minutes are up,” he calls out, voice just loud enough to carry through.
A while later, he can hear the faint sound of your laughter. “Just a little bit more,” you reply.
He smiles just from hearing your voice and laugh — Which honestly is kind of insane. He shakes his head slightly, amused at himself before deciding to push it further.
“I’m getting sleepy,” he says, dragging out the words.
“Then go to sleep,” you answer without a beat.
Hyunjin breaks into laughter as he’s dropping his head back onto the bed again, one arm falling over his eyes. God. Love is so silly and embarrassing.
A moment later, you finally call for him. “Okay, you can come out now.”
Hyunjin scrambles to get up, swings his legs off the bed and stands. He pauses for a brief moment by the doors, hands on the handles like he’s bracing himself for whatever’s on the other side.
After a deep inhale of air, Hyunjin parts the doors open and his eyes automatically sweep over the room, looking for the ‘fun plan’ you’ve been talking about. He notices that the lights aren’t dimmed, no candles surrounded the space or the sofa has not been cozied up for a certain activity. And when his eyes land on you, you’re still wearing the same dress, more covered than what he imagined earlier. He only sees you there, sitting on the carpeted floor right in front of the low table.
Your arms thrown wide in the air, beaming at him like you’ve just revealed something spectacular. “TADA!”
He gives it another look-around, scanning the room like maybe he’s missing something, but no. But when his gaze return to you, he finally notices something on the table. Some kind of board game.
He takes a slow step forward, still processing. “This is your fun plan?”
You grin as you nod in confirmation.
He steps closer, like proximity might somehow change what he’s seeing. “Board game?”
You nod again. “Yes.”
Hyunjin just stands there for a second, staring at you and at the board. And then back at you. A breath escapes him. Half disbelief. Half laughter threatening to break through. “You made me wait for this?”
There’s no real complaint in his voice. He’s just… slightly baffled yet amused. But also, he knows this is just so you.
You smile as you pat the space on the carpeted floor beside you. “Come. Sit.”
He obeys, lowering himself onto the carpet, crossing his legs as he settles in, his gaze flicking from your bright, expectant grin to the board in front of him. Still confused.
“What kind of board game is this?” he asks, brows slightly drawn together.
Before you can answer, there’s knocking on the door. You’re moving, quick on your feet as you hurry to the door, leaving him sitting there, blinking after you like this whole thing just keeps getting stranger.
When you return, you have a bottle of champagne cradled in one arm and carrying a tray with both hands. His eyes follow every step as you lower it onto the table, two champagne flutes with a wine opener and then, something mysterious hidden under a metal lid.
As if you know he’s curious with what’s inside, you lift the lid to reveal a bowl of strawberries and melted chocolate in the other smaller bowl. The memory of that one movie night hits him instantly.
You hand him the bottle of champagne, along with the wine opener. “Will you please open it?”
“Certainly,” he says as he takes them. His hands skilfully working with the cork until it loosens and pops open. A soft fizz follows, bubbling at the neck as he quickly pours into both glasses, careful not to spill a drop. He quickly clinks his glass gently against yours and takes a big sip to not let it spill over. The wine is slightly fruity and smooth, instantly refreshing him.
He exhales quietly, setting the glass aside before leaning forward again, eyes back on the board. It looks like a game of monopoly but he knows for sure that it’s not it.
“What kind of game is this?” he asks again.
“It’s a fun game,” you simply answer with a grin.
He lets out a small sigh, already half-exasperated. “I mean, how do you play it?”
You softly giggle and then patiently explain that it’s just like any other board game. He only needs to roll dice and then moves the pieces according to the number he gets, but even that feels vague, like you’re intentionally leaving things open.
“Let’s just learn as we go,” you finish, waving it off.
He doubts that that’s all it is. But he chooses to trust you, for now. “Okay.”
You take another sip of wine, then glance at him. “Ready to play?”
He mirrors you, lifting his glass for a quick sip before setting it down. “Yeah.”
He straightens a little, focus settling in and gets his head in the game. But then, you look at him again.
“To start, we have to look lovingly into each other’s eyes,” you carefully instruct, setting the two pieces on the starting square. “And whoever blinks last gets the first turn.”
He scoffs lightly, a competitive spark lighting up immediately. “Just so you know, I’m good at staring games.”
You smile like you already know something he doesn’t. “Let’s begin by close our eyes first and open them at the count of three.”
Hyunjin closes his eyes right away and across from him, he hears the subtle shift of you turning to face him fully.
Your voice slower and softer now as you start to count down. “One… two…”
He breathes in and as soon as the word “three” is out of your mouth, he opens his eyes. and it startles him just a little to find you leaning in so close. Your face right there, merely an inches away from his with a sly smile playing on your lips as you look straight into his eyes.
Suddenly, this isn’t a game anymore. Something about the way you’re just looking at him and the unspoken words flickering in them — It does something to him. Because all he can think about is how easy it would be to close the gap between your lips. It’s a test on his restraint.
“We’re supposed to lovingly look into each other’s eyes,” he mutters, trying to hold onto some control.
You giggle and when you stop, your teeth fainty biting at your lower lip. Then, you lean in even closer. “What do you think I’m doing?” you murmur.
He knows you’re baiting him, knows you’re pushing him right to that edge on purpose.
And still, he holds onto his restraint just a little longer, a little stronger. But god, the way you’re looking at him. The way your eyes don’t waver, almost daring him. The way your lips are right there. He feels his restraint slipping and eventually, he gives in.
He lifts his hand, cupping your face as he closes the distance and finally, kisses you. Like that’s what this was always leading to. The kiss is gentle yet deep
“I won,” you triumphantly declare as soon as he pulls away.
He exhales, dropping his head back slightly as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Take the first turn. Whatever.”
But as he turns toward the board, there’s a smile tugging at his lips anyway. Because honestly? He doesn’t feel like he lost at all.
-
Hyunjin leans forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as he watches you take the dice.
You shake it in your hand in confidence and then toss it onto the table. It rolls and then stops on a five.
His eyes follow your hand as you move your piece across the board, counting softly under your breath until it lands on a square marked with a small cherry. He tilts his head, curious. “What does that mean?”
“It means I get a sweet treat,” you answer, reaching for the tray. You pick up a strawberry and dip it slowly into the melted chocolate. Then take a bite.
His eyes stay on you, watching the way your lips wrap around it, the chocolate catching slightly at the corner of your mouth.
You chew and smile a little to yourself. Then glance at him. “It’s your turn.”
He quickly snaps himself out of it. He grabs the dice, rolling it between his fingers before tossing it onto the table. Three. He moves his piece and it lands on a square marked with a pair of lips.
His brow lifts slightly in confusion. “And what this one means?”
“You get to kiss.”
His mouth twitch but before it can form into a smile, you place a different dice into his hand. This one is red and eight-sided, there are words written on each side of it.
“Now, roll this one,” you instruct.
He barely has time to read what’s written on each side of the dice. He rolls and then tosses it onto the table. It lands on… Hand.
“Hand?”
You nod, like this is completely normal. “That means you get to kiss me on the hand.”
He scoffs lightly. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he wants to kiss you somewhere else. But still, a kiss is a kiss, it counts when it’s with you. He takes your hand and brings it up. Then gently presses a kiss on the back of it and another on your wrist. He doesn’t stop there as his lips trail upward, making a trail of ferocious, little kisses up your arm.
You giggle in reaction, trying to pull back. “You only have to kiss my hand!”
“I am,” he says, half-laughing, not stopping. “I’m kissing your whole hand.”
You laugh harder, finally tugging your arm away, but he’s already smiling to himself, satisfied.
He picks up the red dice again, this time actually reading it. Lips, cheek, forehead, neck. His eyebrow lifts when he reads, ‘Free’.
“Free?”
“That means you can kiss wherever you want,” you casually answer.
His lips curve into a seductive smirk. “Wherever?”
“Wherever,” you repeat.
You roll again before he can say anything else and this time, your piece steps on a square with a question mark on it. You reach for the stack of card with identical mark, picking up a card and flipping it over to read what’s written on it.
“What’s the sexiest part of your partner’s body?”
His gaze slightly intensifies. A slow smirk forming as he leans back slightly, waiting in anticipation for your answer.
He suddenly aware of the way your eyes travel down his body. Not just looking, but scanning, taking him in. He notices the way your eyes linger around the lower half of his body before flicking back up to meet his eyes.
You flash him a cryptic, naughty smile before finally say your answer. “Your eyes.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle, doubting your answer. “My eyes? Really?”
You nod, certain.
Hyunjin leans in, leaning in too close that his breath ghosts your lips. “I thought you’d say something else.”
Your head tilts slightly, eyes daringly stare back at him. “Huh? What did you think it is?”
His gaze dips for a second and instead of answering, he chooses to show you. He takes your hand again, bringing it up, brushing your fingers lightly against his lips. His voice is dropping lower now. “Are you sure it’s not my lips?”
You smile as he continues to use your fingertips to feel the softness of his lips. “Your lips are sexy too. But…”
“But…?”
You catch his chin in your hand and then turn his face back toward the board game. “But it’s your turn now.”
He huffs out a laugh and then takes the dice again, rolling it with a small shake of his head.
It lands on a martini glass.
“You get to drink,” you quicky explains.
“That’s boring,” he grumbles. Yet, his hand reaching for his glass, taking a sip of the bubbly wine, feeling refreshed once again.
You’re already rolling again. Six. You waste no time to move your piece forward, landing on a square marked with a chili pepper. You take a card from another stack with the same drawing on the, and read it out loud.
“Give your partner a passionate kiss for 15 seconds.”
Oh. That’s how this game works. Each square is a command but the cards are specified commands depend on their signs. So far, the question mark is for questions. The chili pepper one is for spicy commands. Then, there’s another stack with a heart on it and that one is still unknown.
But wow! Finally! Something exciting.
You dramatically sigh as you prop a hand under your chin. “Why does this feel like a punishment?”
He doesn’t even try to hide his smile, turning his body slightly facing you and patiently wait for you to come to him.
You let out another sigh before crawling your way toward him and then, you climb onto his lap like you’ve already accepted your fate. His heart starts beating faster as your hands come up, cupping his face as you look down at him.
For a second, you just look, letting the anticipation builds and builds. When you close your eyes, he does the same. The first touch of your lips is light, testing and you pull back just slightly, just enough to tilt your head to the side. You part your mouth open before leaning in once more, kissing him deeper yet slower, letting him feeling every brush of your lips on his, the way you suck on his lower lip and coaxing him to open his mouth by gently biting at it. Of course, he caves in eventually and the kiss grows more certain, more consuming.
The tension keeps building with every second as you lean more into him, your tongue brushes his and twirling it with his, enough to pull a quiet breath from him before you latch on him again, kissing him with everything you’ve got.
Fifteen seconds suddenly feels way too short. Because just when he’s getting lost in it, you pull away.
You’re smiling as you mutter, “Time’s up.”
He chases after your lips, wanting more, needing more. “Just a bit more…” he breathlessly whine, almost pathetically.
You only give him a quick peck on the lips and then slide off his lap, settling back to your spot like nothing happened. He almost shakes his head at the way you mercilessly tease him and act like you didn’t just do that.
You grab the dice again and he stops you by wrapping his hand around yours. “Hey, it’s my turn.”
“I got six,” you say, opening his grip on your hand. “So I get to roll again.”
Hyunjin reluctantly lets go and you toss the dice onto the table. Five. Your piece lands on the cherry. He sighs because it’s the boring one, but he quickly reaches for the bowl of strawberries.
“I’ll do it for you,” he says.
You let him and watch as he takes one, dipping the strawberry into the chocolate, holding it up to your lips. Once you take a bite of it, he shoves the rest into his mouth and licks the chocolate off his fingers.
When you look at the board, you grin and clap your hands together. “I finished one lap.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“First to finish three laps wins.”
Okay, now that he understands how the game works, —well, most of it— he realizes that winning the game is not really the point.
Hyunjin takes his turn, still feeling the warmth of you lingering in his arms as he rolls the dice. Four. His piece stops on a square with the heart on it.
You point at the stack of card. “Pick a card.”
He eyes you suspiciously before reaching for the stack, picking one from the top and flipping it over. He reads the command loud enough for the two of you to hear.
“Hug your partner for 30 seconds.”
He puts the card down and mumbles, “Only 30 seconds? That’s cruel.”
You softly laugh at that but don’t seem to mind as he’s already moving. He stands on his knees and offers you his hands, helping you up with him until you’re facing each other. First, he puts his hands on your waist and then slowly, he pulls you in until there’s no space left between you. And just like that, you’re in his arms.
Your arms loop around his shoulders, one hand drifting up to the back of his head, fingers lightly scratching there. It makes him relax and leans in further, burying his face into the crook of your neck like he’s just found the most comfortable, safest place for him to be.
Time flew by and when you murmur softly that time’s up, he only tightens his hold.
“Give me like…” his voice is muffled by your skin. “…thirty more hours of it.”
You chuckle at that and let him, your hand sliding to his back, landing comforting rubs there. And for a moment, he forgets everything else, including the fact that this is a part of a game.
You pull back just enough to look at him and say, “We have to continue.”
Reluctantly and with a dramatic pout, he lets you go and the two of you settle back onto the carpeted floor.
You take your turn and you land on the chili pepper. Again. His interest peaked as you grab a card and read it. “Sit on your partner’s lap until your next turn.”
The grin on his face is so wide that his cheeks hurt. He folds his legs together and pats his lap. “Come, girl. Come on!” he calls for you like he’s summoning his pet puppy.
The annoyed sigh makes a return as you move and sit on his lap. His arm wraps around your waist immediately, holding you close like you’d float away if he didn’t. He leans in without thinking, sneaking a kiss on your neck. You sharply glare at him for it, but he ignores it as puts his focus on the game.
His piece lands on the question mark and he confidently picks up a card from the stack. “When do you find your partner the most beautiful?”
Hearing the question, you turn your head, looking at him over your shoulder, putting all of your attention on him.
He tosses the card aside, both arms wrapping around you now as he thoughtfully thinking like this is a question that will alter his life. “You’re the most beautiful when… you’re working.”
Your expression is pure confusion for one second and turns a little surprised in the next one.
“When you’re focused… serious… you have that faint little scowl on your face,” He can see the way you’re holding yourself back from smiling as he continues. “You’re too busy taking care of… everything else you don’t even realize how beautiful you look.”
You let your smile shows and then narrow your eyes at him. “Correction! It’s an adorable scowl,” you playfully say with a grin.
He nods at that and before your smile disappears, he kisses the corner of your mouth.
“It’s my turn now,” you say, sliding off his lap. You give a dice a good shake and roll it onto the table. Five. The piece lands on the kiss square.
His eyebrow perks up in excitement as you take the red dice and roll it across the table. It stops just on the edge and on the word, ‘Neck’. Before he can even tease you for it, you lean in to place a quick, fleeting kiss press of your lips against his neck. Barely there.
“Hey, that doesn’t count,” he instantly protests.
“But it was a kiss. On the neck,” you say, matter-of-factly with a faint grin.
“That was nothing.”
You crack a laugh and this time, when you lean in, you lean in slower and more deliberate. Your lips press to his neck, warm and soft, and then, your tongue brushes over the skin in a light, teasing lick. It’s quick but enough to make his eyes fluttering and sending a shiver down his spine. A quiet inhale slipping from between his parted lips before you pull away, smiling like you know exactly what you just did.
You place the dice in his hand. “Your turn.”
Hyunjin is still reeling from the kiss and he inhales air to recover from it, shaking the dice in his palm, eyes already locked on a specific square. The chili pepper square. Three steps away. He brings his fist to his mouth, blowing on it like it’ll bring him luck and then tosses it.
Three. He lets out a quiet, satisfied hum. He keeps his calm as he picks up the card from the stack and reads it silent.
“This is fun,” he mutters with a slow, dangerous smirk stretches across his face.
You lean in, trying to read what’s written on the card. “What does it say?”
He reads it aloud for you. “Take one piece of your partner’s clothing off.”
You groan immediately as you look down and realize there’s not much to undress as you’re in a dress. “Great. I should’ve worn layers.”
He leans back slightly, considering his options and watching your cute, annoyed face. It seems obvious to you that he’d go for the dress and he lets you think that by reaching for the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly.
Your eyes lock with his as your thighs are now exposed and you slightly lift your hips off the floor as he lifts the hem higher and higher and then—
He changes direction, letting go of the hem and slips his hand under, and then higher until his fingers meeting the waistband of your underwear. Your eyes widening in reaction, a low gasp contained behind your pressed lips and that alone is enough to push him further.
He takes his time as he hooks his fingers in the fabric and then pulls it down, slowly and deliberately. He lets out a sigh when the silky fabric comes into sight and keeps his eyes on it as he continues to pull it down your legs until it’s off of you. He shamelessly takes a quick sniff and shoves it into the pocket of his shirt after. Then leans back with a satisfied look, like he just won something.
You shake your head at him, taking a sip of your drink like you’re suddenly thirsty from the little stunt he pulled. You breathe in air before taking the dice in your hand again and roll it. Your piece stands on the square with the heart on it.
You pick up a card from the stack and read it. “Whisper three compliments to your partner.”
You put the card away with a sigh. “Oh, man, I wish I have something nice to say to you,” you jokingly mutter, giving him a side glance.
Hyunjin only smiles at you and calmly says, “You can say I’m charming. I’m fun to be with. Or that I’m good at annoying you.”
“The last one sounds about right,” you say with a smile. You scoot closer, bringing your mouth close to his side and get quiet as you think.
When you’re ready, you lean in closer and he tilts his head to meet you halfway. Your lips brushing near his ear as you whisper, “I think you’re a talented artist.”
He smiles and nods. “A hundred percent agree!”
You hum as you pause and think again. “You’re very good at annoying me,” you whisper.
He opens his mouth to protest but you quickly add, “… As good as making me smile and laugh.”
And he can’t help but smile at that. He doesn’t expect that one to make his heart fluttering inside his chest.
“And…” you whisper as you continue.
He softly gazes into your eyes and echoes, “And…?”
“You’re good at…” your words trail off as your finger playing with the button on his shirt, intentionally making him wait for it. When your eyes meet his again, you finally finish the sentence. “You’re good at making me feel good.”
That compliment has double entendre and he knows you did that on purpose. Because now he can’t decide whether he should be touched or aroused, or both. But one thing for sure, the compliment gives him a boost of confidence.
You hold his gaze for second longer, letting him read the intention behind your compliments before taking the dice and put it in his hand. “Okay, time to roll.”
With a sigh, Hyunjin takes the dice in his hand and gets four. The piece lands on the kiss square and he knows his way around the game now. He grabs the red dice. His eyes darken slightly as the dice stops on the word, ‘Free’.
“Kiss wherever I want…” he mutters with a look of mischief.
You only shake your head in defeat, a smile supressed to hide your amusement.
He crawls to you, taking your legs and turning you to face him. He uses his hand to part them open, the hem of your dress covering what’s in between but not the fact that you’re bare underneath.
You stay where you are, calmly leaning back with your hands propped against the floor, legs parted open. A faint smirk lingering on your lips.
Hyunjin flashes you a seductive smile before lowering his mouth, lower and lower until his head buried between your legs. He presses his nose against your inner thigh, drinking in the scent that clings to your skin.
You remain still as he trails up your thigh and not stopping until his mouth meeting your bare sex, warm and wet. He hums as he inhales the arousing smell and then leans in to kiss your clit. Your body jerks for a fraction as he uses his tongue next, just the tip, circling on your bundle of nerves and then taking it into his mouth again. He got you. He got you good. But the truth is he’s just as affected. Maybe more.
A breathless gasp falls out of your mouth as he continues kissing at your clit. Like he’s making out with it. A hand comes to tangle it in his dark locks, gently tugging at it. “It says a kiss,” you tell him.
Hyunjin smiles against your heating cunt and drags his lips to the side, kissing on the skin around your arousal. “It is a kiss.”
Then he pulls back just enough to put his tongue out. “It’s one—” he pauses to land a lick between your folds. “…long—” a lick. “…continuous—” another lick. “…kiss.”
A soft, amused chuckle escaped your lips as one knee bends higher than the other, toes curling against the carpet. But you manage to stay calm despite the way his tongue and lips hungrily eating your cunt.
“I’m going to take my turn anyway,” you casually say.
A hand stay tangled in his hair while the other reaches for the dice, shaking it in your palm and toss it onto the table. He can hear the way you shift and move your piece on the board. Then—
“I won.”
With his head buried between your legs and the hem of your dress cloaked over it, Hyunjin couldn’t care less about anything else, whether he wins or loses. He’s got everything he wants and needs right here, on his mouth.
You tug harder at his hair, forcing him to pull away and he reluctantly detaches his mouth, looking up at you with his mouth glistening wet with your essence. “Didn’t you hear me? I won,” you tell him.
Hyunjin innocently shrugs and says, “So?
“That means I get to do whatever I want,” you say with a triumphant grin.
His brows knitted into a questioning look. “You didn’t mention it earlier,” he grumbles.
You cup the side of his face and coyly smile. “It’s not like you care about the rules and all that.”
Hyunjin kind of expected that you kept something from him and that whoever wins get to have that privilege. But then again, he doesn’t really care about it. He has you and therefore, he won. Without thinking, he throws himself at you and taking you with him, collapsing onto the carpeted floor. Then wastes not another second to plant his mouth on yours.
The game completely forgotten now as you kiss him back, legs wrapping around his waist as you draw him close until there’s not even an inch left between your bodies. You let him put his weight on you, arms wrapped around his back as he deepens the kiss, kissing you without restraint now.
When he deems you need a second to breathe, he lets go. His big hand frames the side of your face, keeping you still so he can stare at your face as he pleases.
“I won,” you say again, a hand braced against his chest.
“Yeah, I heard the first time,” he waves you off while continuously gazing into your eyes.
You glide your hand up to his neck, feeling his pulse there and smiles. “It’s time for the real fun plan,” you declare.
His brows lift in curiosity. “What is it?”
Your hand reaches under the table and pulls out the box. He immediately recognizes it as a welcome gift from the pharmaceutical company. You lift the lid, put your hand inside to look for something without looking. Once you found it, you lift it up.
Furry handcuffs. His eyes slightly widen at it while you tilt your head slightly, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “The fun plan.”
-
The bed makes a soft creak as you get on top of him again, straddling his hips, your weight grounding him into the mattress as your lips crash into his. The kiss is unlike ones you’ve given him before. It’s heat and urgency and something reckless threaded through it. His breath catches against your mouth as he tries to keep up, hands feeling you through your clothes.
You’re just as impatient, clumsy fingers working on his shirt, tugging at buttons like you don’t have the patience to do it properly.
He huffs a quiet laugh into the kiss, half breathless, half wrecked by it. The sound dissolves when your mouth presses harder, stealing whatever thought he had left. So he gives in, pushing himself up just enough to shrug the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it somewhere behind him without looking.
You don’t even pause. Your lips are back on his instantly, coming at him like you’ve been waiting for it and he lets himself fall back again, fully pinned beneath you as you take what you want, and he gives it just as eagerly. His hands tighten on you, pulling you closer, like there’s still space left between your bodies when there isn’t.
When you finally pull away, his chest rises and falls a little faster, eyes already searching yours.
“It’s fun time,” you breathlessly murmur with a wicked smile.
“Is that necessary?” he asks, head tipping back slightly as you bring the handcuffs back into view.
“Yes,” you answer without a beat.
“I swear I’ll keep my hands off. All the time,” he assures though his eyes hinting at mischief.
You drop your head to the side, eyes staring into his. “Why? You don’t trust me?”
He scoffs lightly, a playful edge to it. “Yeah. I don’t.”
“Exactly.”
Despite his reluctance, he doesn’t move, doesn’t stop you when you reach for his hand. Instead, he watches the way your fingers wrap around his wrist, the way you put too much focus as you secure one cuff and guide his arm up, looping it around the headboard until there’s a soft click and then another. His other hand follows and just like that, his movement is limited. His arms stretched, restrained and the faint clink of metal echoing in the room.
Hyunjin tests it once, just enough to feel the resistance. Then he sees you, catching that look on your face — of satisfaction and amusement.
He tilts his head, voice softening, tone coaxing. “You could at least let one of my hands free.”
You shake your head immediately. “No. Can’t do.”
The answer sounds final and non-negotiable. Your hand comes up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing along his cheek as you look down at him like you’ve already decided everything.
“It’d be fun to blindfold you too,” you add, almost thoughtfully. “But… I want you to see everything.”
Oh, you really do know how to drive him crazy. How to get him aroused and excited and waiting for you in anticipation. Before he can guess what you’re going to do next, you lean down and kiss him again before pulling back with a grin that feels like a secret.
“First things first,” you say as you shift back, your gaze dropping, and his follows without thinking. “I kind of made a mess.”
Hyunjin glances down, bending his leg slightly and yeah, there it is. A darkened, wet patch on his jeans. He guesses you’ve been rubbing yourself against his thigh. He lets out a breath through his nose, half amused, half… fucking aroused.
You don’t look sorry at all, if anything, you’re pleased by it. “So let’s take these off first,” you say, reaching for the waistband of his jeans.
His chest caves as he holds his breath, watching as your fingers work the button open, then the zipper in such calmness that somehow arouses him. He lifts his hips instinctively to help you get it off, watching the way you don’t hesitate or falter.
Once the jeans are out of the way, your eyes automatically land on the evident proof of how aroused he is. To his hardening member, flushed and pulsating with so much desire. A small lift of your brow is enough to say that you’re impressed by what you’re seeing. And you just have no idea what it does to him, do you?
You sit back then, taking in the sight of his naked body against the white sheets with hands chained up and all of him, restrained and aroused under you. Just for you. “I’ll make it fair,” you say.
It gets him clueless for a second until you reach for the zipper at the back of your dress. He doesn’t realize how still he’s gone until the sound of it sliding down fills the room and the fabric slips away. Your hands reaching to the back again, unclasping your bra and then toss it away.
And just like that, there’s nothing left between his gaze and you now.
The cuffs clink softly as his hands shift, instinct pulling against restraint, a quiet frustration threading through the want that hits him all at once. He wants to touch you, kiss you, feel you whole. He wants to be all over you. He didn’t even realize how much he missed this. You and your heavenly body. His eyes darkening as he looks you, eyes trailing every line, every curve of you.
You notice. He knows you do from that little smirk flickers across your lips before you brush it off like it’s nothing, already moving on. “Now for the fun part.”
Your voice turns low and sultry, enough to make his stomach tighten. You reach toward the nightstand, dragging the box onto the bed, pushing the lid aside that it falls onto the floor.
Hyunjin watches with curiosity as your hand disappears inside for a second and then comes back holding a small bottle.
You lift it, tilting it just enough for him to see it. “I’m sure you remember this.”
From the familiar package, he recognizes it right away. Edible lubricant. He huffs a quiet laugh, head tipping back for a second before he looks at you again with double the intensity in his gaze. “Of course I do.”
The way you smile after that tells him he’s in trouble. You open the bottle and tilt it over the back of your hand. The small, clear drop glistens against your skin, you lean in and taste it.
“It tastes just like watermelon,” you say, almost surprised.
That pulls a low chuckle out of him, amused. “What were you expecting?” he asks, voice warm, a little rough.
You shrug, entirely unfazed. “It’s not as good as the cherry one, but… not bad.”
The casual way you say it does nothing to ease the tension curling tight in his chest. If anything, it makes it worse. He notices the way your gaze shifts lower, to the noticeable erection and his breath dips when you bring the bottle closer, positioning it over him without hesitation.
“Oops…” you lowly gasp as you squeeze lubricant onto his cock. But the way you say it doesn’t sound like you’re sorry at all.
Hyunjin grips at the chain on his handcuffs, bracing himself for what’s coming for him. Yet a shiver running through him as the cool sensation hits him as you add a little more and watch it drips down his length.
Your lips curve as you toss the bottle away like it’s already served its purpose. You look at him and keep your eyes on him as you’re using your hand next, lathering the lubricant down his shaft. Your fingers lightly tickling the crest and tighten when it goes down. By the time your hand wrapped around the base, he sharply exhales through his nose.
Your hand trailing over him once more before settling into steady movements, slowly and deliberately, like you’re learning the reaction, memorizing it.
Hyunjin swallows, eyes locked on yours, the tension in his body pulling tighter with every second you take your time. The way you hold his gaze while pumping him, the way you don’t look away, not even for a second—says everything. And it’s the eye contact that gets to him more than anything.
His fingers curl uselessly against the restraint, metal knocking softly against wood as his body reacts, every instinct telling him to reach for you, to pull you closer, but he can’t. The fact that you notice his struggle and do nothing about it is cruel, but it only sends another wave of heat through him.
When you lean down, he stops breathing for a second, half-lidded eyes watching you as you smearing some more lubricant around the head and then lick your fingers after.
“Are you going to put it into your mouth?” he asks, voice heavy with lust.
You put your index finger into your mouth and slowly pulls it away. “Should I?”
Hyunjin forces himself to stay calm after watching that and manages to put on a smirk. “Not sure you can take it though,” he says with a challenging tone.
You only reply with low, flirty giggles and you drop your body lower until your chest hovering above his thighs. You put a hand over him, resting your head on it as your hand mindlessly playing with his cock, taking your time with it. Finger lightly tracing the shape, thumb pressing on the little slit on the tip as you watch it with almost bored eyes.
He scoffs a laugh, watching you treat his cock like a mere toy but fuck, that is just so fucking hot. He doesn’t know you have this wild side of you and wishes he’d see it often in the future.
“You’re making a mess of it,” he protests, voice rough around the edges. “You should clean it up.”
You lift your head and then nonchalantly shrug. “Maybe I should.”
And with that, you lean in and start licking the tip. Your tongue swirls around it repeatedly, licking the lubricant clean before dragging it down his shaft. You tilt your head to the other side, doing the same thing on the other side. The hold around him tighten just slightly as you lift his length, keeping it up as you head for the base, teasing his knob by lightly sucking on it.
“Fuck, baby,” he blurts out. He’s pretty sure you feel him twitching in your hand just now, clearly not expecting that.
You pull back with a sly smile on your face and you give him no time to recover as you put him into your mouth. You don’t go easy on him, you hollowed out your cheeks and suck him hard. A hand compensates the rest that you can’t take.
“Oh, fuck, look at that mouth…” he hisses through his gritted teeth. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice. A surrender he didn’t mean to give. Hands straining against the handcuffs like he could break away from the sheer will alone.
Just as he starts to sink into it, to the feel of your mouth around him and the way you please, just as he’s about to give in completely, you stop and pull back. He almost sighs out of frustration. Almost.
“Wait,” you say lightly, like you’ve just thought of something. “I need to get on a better position.”
You don’t wait for him to ask or say anything, you crawl over him and turn, straddling him again, knees bracing each side of his waist, but this time, your back is facing him. You glance over your shoulder, eyes glinting with something playful, something a little wicked.
“Enjoy the view.”
Hyunjin’s fingers curl again, instinct taking over as he strains against the restraint only to be met with the sharp, unyielding reminder of metal against wood. “Fuck…” he exhales under his breath, half a groan, half a laugh, because you’re right there and he can’t even touch you.
A soft, almost mocking laugh slipped out of you as you turn your head back and then, you lean down. Again, not giving him time to brace himself as you take him into your mouth.
The feeling of your mouth alone is enough to drive him mad but god, you know how to take it further by intentionally jutting your ass higher, exposing your cunt, soaking wet with arousal, giving him a view you know he can’t do anything about.
Instinctively, he lifts his head, leaning forward as much as he can, just enough to put his mouth on you, but failed. He swears under his breath, strained laugh following right after.
His head falling back for a second before lifting again, strained his neck forward, trying to reach you, even just a little. He barely gets anywhere before gravity wins, dropping him back onto the pillow with a frustrated groan. And it frustrates him so much because you’re so close, yet out of his reach.
“You’re so wet, baby. You’re dripping for me,” he sighs, voice rough, edged with something dangerously close to desperation.
The chain rattles again when his hands flex, a sharp inhale catching in his chest as he fights the urge to just grab you, pull you down, close the distance himself.
You seem to have finally noticed his struggle as you pause for a second and glance over your shoulder. “You okay back there?” you ask too casually.
He lets out a breathless laugh, eyes narrowing slightly. “You think?” he shoots back, but there’s no harshness to it. Just heat, just frustration tangled up with want.
You only smile and then you’re right back to it, like nothing happened. Mouth sucking hard, tongue tickling the tip, hand wrapped tightly around the base, endlessly pleasing him.
Hyunjin’s head falls back again, a deeper groan slipping out now as his control starts slipping through his fingers. He shifts under you, restless, unable to stay still anymore, the tension in him coiling tighter and tighter.
When he opens his eyes, the sight of your dripping cunt tantalizes him once more. “Let me have you on my mouth. Let me taste you,” he says in a rush, voice rough and barely held together like he needs it. Urgently needs it.
You pause again, letting go of him with a loud pop and looking at him with your lips glistening wet. “What was that?” you ask, like you didn’t hear him.
He lets out a disbelieving huff, almost laughing despite himself. “Want you on my mouth,” he says without stuttering.
That gets you smirking and swiftly, you turn anyway, shifting until you’re facing him again, straddling him like before—except now, his view is filled with you, your face, your eyes, that expression that tells him you’re enjoying every second of this. Your hand comes up, thumb brushing lightly over his lips, tracing the shape of them in a way that makes his breath quivers.
“You want me on your mouth, you say?” you murmur softly.
He nods immediately, no hesitation, lips parting slightly beneath your touch. “Yeah, I do.”
You lean closer, hovering just above him, close enough that he can feel your breath. “Say it properly,” you whisper.
Hyunjin’s patience has run thin and he breaks whatever composure he had left. “I want your wet pussy on my mouth and ride it endlessly,” both his voice and his gaze don’t waver as he says it.
You smile, satisfied with what you heard but you take your time after that, making him wait, to let it sink in, to let the anticipation stretch until it almost hurts.
“Okay,” you finally answer and a beat later, you add, “But only for a bit.”
He nods immediately, almost too quickly, like he’s afraid you’ll take it back if he hesitates. And when you move closer, when his world narrows down to just you, his eyes darkening and completely focused on you.
You slowly lower yourself on him and his head tilts up instinctively, meeting you halfway, taking whatever you give without question, without restraint. There’s no hesitation in him now—only want, only the need to feel you, to be this close.
His hands pull again against the cuffs, useless, but he doesn’t even care anymore. Not when he finally gets what he wants. Not when he finally has you like this. Not when your wet pussy presses on his mouth.
A hand gripped the headboard to steady yourself and the other grabs at the crown of his hair, tugging at it as you’re moving your hips, riding his mouth as you please. When he darts his tongue out, you switch into pulsating your hips against him, letting his tongue fucking your little hole.
“Oh, god…” you breathlessly moan with your head tilted back, overwhelmed.
He smirks against your flesh and opens his mouth wider, taking more of you, letting your essence flooding his mouth. Breathing become second in his priorities and what comes first is you, you and you. And just as quickly as it builds, you pull away.
Hyunjin exhales sharply, a quiet protest slipping out before he can stop it, his head falling back again, chest rising and falling unevenly. “Just a little bit more,” he breathlessly mutters, licking at his lower lip after.
You don’t submit to his wish but instead, you get off of him and lay down beside him. Half of your body overlaps him, hand reaching for his chin and turn his head your way, leaning in to press your lips against him. Then you’re kissing him, slowly yet passionately, like you’re making up for it.
He responds immediately, kissing you back and deepening it, tasting himself on you as you’re tasting yourself on him, and it does something to him that’s almost overwhelming. His hands flex again, frustrated, wanting to hold you properly.
As your lips continue locked with his in a heated kiss, your hand moving down south, finding his stiff member and begin slowly stroking on it
When the kiss breaks, he exhales against your lips, still close, still hovering. “Are you going to let me out of these now?” he asks, hopeful, but still edged with that same heat.
You softly smile at him and for a second, he thinks you might. But then you pull away and say, “Not yet.”
He lets out a soft groan, head dropping back again. But you completely ignore that, already reaching for the box again, pulling something else out this time. A pack of condom.
“Let’s put this one first,” you say, holding it up. “Just to be safe.”
Hyunjin watches every second of it. The careful way you tear the foil, slower than necessary like you’re aware he’s looking. His head rests back against the pillow but his eyes continue tracking your hands as you put it on him next.
You put so much focus on it, a crease formed between your brows like you can’t mess this up. Using your finger, you roll the rubber down his length.
“You’re getting good at that,” he mutters, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
You don’t even look up. Just finish what you’re doing with that same quiet concentration before answering, almost casually, “Well, I’ve had a lot of practice.”
That earns a low chuckle from him, something amused and disbelieving, but it fades the moment you crawl back over him and your lips meet his again. There’s something about the kiss now, it’s not rushed, not frantic, just… warm and deep and consuming in a different way.
He melts into it despite himself, tilting his head, chasing it when you shift, trying to pull you closer even when he can’t.
When you pull away, he chases after your lips. “Are you going to let me out of these now?” he asks, softer now.
You press a quick kiss to his lips only to say, “No.”
And just like that, he drops his head back with a helpless groan. But he doesn’t fight it anymore. Not when you settle over him again and grab the bottle of edible lubricant, squeezing the content onto your palm. Then you rub it all over his cock.
He shudders, hips jerking for a fraction and every reaction only seems to amuse you more, and he can see it now. The way your lips curve, the way your eyes flick up to check on him like you’re studying him. And yeah, he’s done for.
He exhales sharply when you begin stroking him again, hands tightening uselessly against the cuffs, the soft clink of metal punctuating the moment as he sinks back into the pillow.
There’s no winning here. Not when you’re like this.
“When are you going to let me go?” he asks, almost like a whine, like he knows it might get to you.
You lean in, close enough that he thinks you’re going to kiss him, but you stop with your lips hovering just a breath away from his. “Until I’m done,” you murmur.
Something about that certainty, the confidence undoes him. His gaze stays locked on yours, unwavering, even as you scoot closer, allowing you to rub his length against your wetness, pressing the tip on your clit.
Then, you slightly lift yourself as you positioning his cock into your entrance. Without the slightest of hesitation, you ease yourself down on him, pausing after an inch or two, letting out a breathless moan of pain and pleasure.
Hyunjin can’t look away. His eyes stuck to the way you’re taking more and more of him into you. The tension coiled inside him now, jaw tightening briefly before relaxing again, eyes focused on the way he’s disappearing into you. He lets himself fall into the feel of you, the warmth and tightness, into the way you easily take all of him like you were made for him.
To calm himself down, Hyunjin deeply inhales air before letting it out in one long, shaky exhale. “Look at you now… you take me so damn well,” he sweetly praises.
Instead of answering, you’re putting your hands on his chest, lowly giggling and moaning like something tickles you. A foolish, satisfied grin filled your face.
“Have you always been this tight,” he sighs, subtly rolling his hips to feel you around him. “Or it’s because I haven’t fucked you in so long?”
You don’t deny nor confirm, but you suddenly clench around him, earning a raw groan from him. A smirk tugging at you lips as you begin rolling your hips in slow, circular motions, making his groans grow louder and unrestrained now. A moment later, you move by pulsating your hips against him.
Hyunjin keeps his eyes on you, the way his cock slips in and out of you, the way your breasts bouncing along to your movements, making him once again, uselessly trying to break away from the cuffs that restrained him.
The sound of your breathless, sultry moans that’s echoing in the room doesn’t help, he’s completely into this intimacy that feels less physical, more emotional. And because it’s not just the feeling—it’s you. The way your expression shifts, the way your confidence flickers into something more vulnerable for just a moment, the way you stay right there with him, holding his gaze like this is something shared, not one-sided.
He stays where he is, telling himself to be present in this moment with eyes looking at you in admiration and want. He puts aside his needs, letting you have him, letting you take what you want from him. And he can see the way you tirelessly moving, chasing for it.
When the tension finally peaks and you come around him, he watches you through it, doesn’t look away, doesn’t miss a second of it. Because that’s what he wanted, just you, like this, with him.
When you melt against him, your body warm and pliant on top of his, your breathing uneven, matching his in soft, staggered rhythm. He lets his head fall back for a second, eyes closing, trying to steady himself but it doesn’t last long. Not when you’re right there. Not when he can feel you like this, close and real and his.
He needs to touch you, holds you so he nudges his forehead lightly against yours. “Can you let me go now?” he murmurs, voice turning breathless at the end of the sentence.
You lift your head just enough to look at him, eyes heavy-lidded, lips curved in that slow, knowing smile and he already knows you’re going to say yes before you do. “Okay.”
You grab the keys from the nightstand, eyes half-focused as you unlock it until there’s the soft click of the cuffs.
The second they fall away, his hands are on you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you down against him, holding you tight like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been patient for far too long. His lips find yours again, kissing you deeper, claiming.
As he keeps your mouth busy with kisses, his hand reaches down between your bodies, taking his cock and slips it between your legs, rubbing it against your heating wetness. He feels the little, breathless gasps you make against his mouth. It drives him further, impatient to be inside you again and he does, slipping his stiff member back into you in one smooth slide until he’s completely buried in you again.
He softly groans into your mouth, feeling you still quivering from your previous orgasm. His hands slide along your back and move sideways, taking your hands in him and then folds them together. He keeps them there, grounding you against him as his lips trail the column of your throat and jaw, and only to return to your lips, hastily kissing you.
You laugh softly against his mouth and mutters, “Been waiting for that, huh?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he begins moving his hips, bucking into you from under. Soon, the sound of your shared breaths mixing with the squelching sounds of his cock ramming into you, slow but purposeful.
“Missed you. Missed the way you feel,” he sighs into the curve of your neck, breath hot and tickling. “And the way you cling to my cock.”
From those words alone, you clench around him tighter, moaning his name in incoherent, breathless pleads for more —of this, of him. And of course, he’ll give it to you. Anything for you.
Everything that follows feels less like a game and more like something inevitable. Like all that tension, all those moments before, have finally found somewhere to go. His movements are no longer restrained, no longer careful in the same way—they’re certain, driven by the way you respond to him, the way you cling to him, the way your breath turns ragged.
And honestly, Hyunjin can’t hold himself back anymore so he finally, finally lets himself go with your name caught somewhere between a breath and a whisper.
Afterward, he brings your hands and lets them fall round his shoulders as he puts his around you, holding you close like you’re not already pressed onto him.
You lift your head, mouth instinctively finding his and taking it for an earned, slow kiss, a kiss that guides him to gradually come down from his high. When you pull away, you pull away with a soft smile. “Have you always come this fast or is it because we haven’t fucked for so long?”
This is your way to get back at him and he lets out a breathless laugh in response, a little tired and still undone. “Both,” he shamelessly answers.
You laugh at that, sending his body shaking along with your laughter. It feels warm and nice as his arm stays wrapped around you, hand resting at your back, thumb tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin. You fit there too easily. Like you’ve always known the shape of him.
Hyunjin tilts his head slightly, cheek brushing against your hair, eyes half-lidded as he stares at the ceiling. “You’re a lot to handle, you know that?” he says with a smile still lingering on his lip. A lazy, satisfied smug.
He feels your quiet laugh against his chest before he hears it. “You’re just saying that because you lost.”
His scoff is more breath than anything. His fingers pause for a second before resuming their slow drawing on your skin. “Lost?” he echoes, like the word doesn’t quite sit right with him.
You shift just enough to look at him, chin propped lightly against his chest, eyes curious but already amused—like you’re waiting for whatever nonsense he’s about to say next. “Yes. You lost, sir,” you playfully say.
Hyunjin looks at you, the way your hair is a little messy, lips still soft and flushed, eyes warm and bright in a way that makes him take a second to imprint this into the back of his head. He exhales through his nose, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Still unfair though,” he says after a moment, tone light and teasing. “You set me up from the start.”
You scoff softly, nudging his chest. “You agreed to play.”
“Didn’t know the stakes were this high.”
“That’s because you don’t read the rules.”
He chuckles at that, the sound rumbling beneath your ear. “Wouldn’t have changed my answer anyway.”
“Since when do you care about the rules anyway,” you conclude, easily resting your head on his chest like you’ve decided that it’s your safe place.
For once, Hyunjin doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence. He just stays with you. His hand drifts lazily along your arm, then back again, grounding himself in the simple fact that you’re here, still close, still warm against him.
“Next time, I’m picking the game,” he suddenly declares.
You tilt your head slightly, smiling against his chest. “Sure you are.”
He smiles too, eyes closing for a second as he rests his cheek against your hair again.
But his arm doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens just a little like he’s not quite ready to let you go yet. And maybe he won’t be. Not anytime soon.
-
The next morning, you wake up to the warmth seeping from behind you, the weight of an arm draped securely around your waist and then the faint brush of lips against your shoulder… your neck… light and almost lazy, like whoever’s behind you has nowhere else to be.
You hum softly, still half-asleep, shifting just enough to tuck yourself closer.
Noticing it, Hyunjin exhales against your skin, amused. “So you’re awake,” he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep, lips ghosting along your shoulder again.
You don’t answer right away. Just tilt your head slightly, giving him more space without even thinking about it. “Mm… depends. Are you going to keep doing that?”
His low chuckles vibrating through you. “Probably.”
That’s enough of an answer. You turn slowly in his arms, eyes still heavy with sleep, and find him already looking at you with messy hair, eyes soft, lips curved into that small, sleepy smile that feels too attractive for how early it is. Or late. You don’t even know what time it is anymore.
His hand comes up, brushing your hair away from your face, thumb lingering along your cheek. “Morning,” he says.
You huff a quiet laugh. “Pretty sure it’s not morning.”
“Still counts.”
You don’t argue because he leans in and softly kisses you like he’s easing into it instead of chasing anything. It lingers just long enough to make your chest feel warm before he pulls back, forehead resting lightly against yours.
And just like that… the day starts.
-
The rest of the vacation turns into a blur after that.
You’re in the passenger seat with the windows down, wind tugging at your hair while Hyunjin drives with one hand on the wheel and the other lazily resting on your thigh. Music plays low in the background and every now and then, he glances over at you like he’s checking you’re still there. Like you might disappear if he doesn’t.
But here you are, choosing to stay. In this. With him.
You wander through little streets you’ve never seen before, duck into random shops just because something in the window catches your eye. You try things on, hold things up to him, laugh when he gives you opinions you didn’t ask for.
“You’re unhelpful,” you tell him at one point.
“I like everything on you,” he easily replies.
You roll your eyes, but you don’t put the item back.
-
In every place you visit, Hyunjin makes sure to take photos, documenting everything, every moment. Of the sea, of the sky, of random corners that feel oddly beautiful and of each other. He catches you mid-laugh more than once, camera lifted before you can hide it, and you groan every time.
“Delete that.”
“No.”
“Hyunjin—”
“It’s good.”
“Because you like my annoyed face more than anything, huh?”
“Yep.”
When it gets too hot and the sea looks too tempting, you both end up in the water. The ocean water somehow feels cool against your skin but not biting. You splash him first this time, unprovoked, and he stares at you like he’s offended. Then immediately retaliates.
It turns into a mess of laughter and water and hands grabbing at each other to stay upright, neither of you really trying to win anything.
Just trying to stay close.
-
By the time night falls, you’re both exhausted in the good kind. Yet, you always get each other in the best way. In the best, most seductive way.
Some nights, he has you bent over the edge of the bed, lips making a trail of kisses down your spine before he enters you from behind, one hand pressed onto your shoulder, pining you down as he thrusts into you, and not stopping until you fall apart around him.
Some other nights, you barely make it back to the bed. Once, you settled onto the sofa, clothes littering the hotel floor, limbs tangled, a cushion propped under you, giving him that delicious angle to thrust into you deeper. Though it doesn’t stop you from asking him to get deeper inside you.
The second him, your hands braced against the floor-to-ceiling window, your breath fogging the glass as you moan from the way Hyunjin hungrily eating you from behind, tongue jamming into your hole as one hand curve around, fingers skilfully circling on your clit. Your legs shake as you come into his mouth and he doesn’t wait, he turns you around, an arm lifts you and keeps you off the floor, one hand impatiently lining his cock with your entrance and once he’s fully sheathed in your warm, tight walls, he fucks you tirelessly, making you loudly moaning that you sure whoever stays in the next room could hear it.
And in each time, the room eventually fades into background noise and you end up in each other’s arms. You learn that the only thing that matters is the way he holds you, the way he stays close and most importantly, choosing to stay.
And each time, before sleep gets to you, you think about how easy this feels. How right.How you wish, just for a second, maybe longer… That life could stay like this.
-
You don’t realize how quickly it’s ending until you start gathering your things. It hits you somewhere between folding a shirt and setting aside the small souvenirs you’ve picked up over the past few days. You move slowly, almost reluctantly because something in you resists finishing it.
“Already packing?” Hyunjin’s voice drifts from behind you.
You glance over your shoulder, offering a small shrug. “Just… putting things together. I’ll pack later.”
He leans against the wall, watching you in silence like he understands exactly what you’re doing and why. After a moment, he offers you a comforting smile and asks, “Want to go out and watch the sunset?”
You keep your suitcase open, half-packed and ditch it entirely. “Sure,” you answer without thinking, already getting on your feet.
The beach greets you again like it always has. The sand is cool beneath you as you sit, shoulders brushing, hands naturally lacing together like it’s something you’ve always done. The sky is painted in warm hues, the sun slowly dipping lower, stretching the moment as if it’s giving you time.
You lean slightly into him and softly sigh. “Can’t believe this is the last day,” you say, a little incredulous, a little reluctant.
Hyunjin lets out a quiet breath beside you. “Yeah.”
You turn your head just enough to look at him. “We spent it well though, right?” There’s a hint of something in your voice like you need to hear it.
“Yeah,” he says again, softer this time. Then he leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, offering comfort as best as he can.
You smile into it and when you pull back, you rest your head on his shoulder, watching as the sun sinks lower and lower until it finally disappears beneath the horizon, marking that another day has gone.
-
The two of you decide to have dinner out, probably something special to commemorate the moment. You walk side by side, fingers loosely lacing together until they eventually intertwine without either of you making a big deal out of it.
After browsing through some restaurants and their menus, you settle on one that seems exactly like what you’ve been craving.
“I’d love the chicken pesto pasta for dinner,” you mutter, getting hungry just from the picture of it.
Hyunjin’s eyes are still scanning the menu as he comments, “Yeah, that looks nice.”
“We could share the steak,” you add as he flips into a new page.
“Good plan,” he says with a smile.
After a mutual agreement and strategically planned dinner meals, the two of you walk up to the waiter. “Table for two, please!” Hyunjin politely says.
The waiter offers an apologetic smile as she says, “Sorry, we’re fully booked tonight.”
The excitement inside you deflates and turns into a frown, turning to Hyunjin like he somehow could fix it. “I really wanted that…”
He patiently and softly smiles at you. “I’m sure we’ll find somewhere else to have dinner.”
You let out a short, heavy sigh before accepting it. “Okay.”
He doesn’t miss the way you’re still frowning so he leans in and kisses you without warning.
You lowly gasp in surprise and crack a laugh, feeling lifted up already.
“Let’s go,” he says, taking your hand, fingers threading through yours again. “We’ll find something better.”
You let him pull you along but three steps later, you hear a voice calling for you. “Hey!”
You and Hyunjin turn almost in sync and the second you recognize them, your face lights up.
“Jules—Diane!”
They look just as delighted, already moving toward you, arms open for quick hugs that feel oddly familiar despite how little time you’ve actually spent together. “Well, look at this! Our favorite couple,” Jules beams.
You and Hyunjin laugh at the same time, instinctively. “It’s so nice to see you again,” you say with a bright smile.
“Aren’t you guys getting dinner?” Diane asks, hand vaguely gesturing toward the restaurant.
“Well, yeah. But it’s fully booked,” you answer.
“We have a reservation. We can share the table,” Diane immediately offers.
This time, Hyunjin cuts in by kindly refusing the offer. “Oh, no. It’s okay. You guys should enjoy your dinner.
“Oh, nonsense,” Diane waves it off immediately. “I’m sure they can arrange something and make it dinner for four.”
You kindly refuse again, smiling as you do. “Oh—you should enjoy that then, we can—”
“Also, because we’re sick of each other. We really need to talk to other people,” Jules playfully says with a serious face.
“No, it’s okay,” you insist gently, shaking your head. “Really, we don’t want to—”
“It’s settled,” Diane says, already turning back toward the restaurant like the conversation is over. “We’ll just tell them.”
“Diane—” Jules laughs, but she’s already hooking her arm through yours, tugging you along anyway. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
You glance back at Hyunjin, caught between protest and amusement. He just shakes his head lightly, lips curved into a small smile like he saw this coming and then follows without a word.
-
Dinner settles into something easy and comfortable in a way that feels almost surprising, considering how all of this started.
The four of you sit around the table, laughter woven in between bites of food and sips of wine, stories overlapping, little interruptions that don’t feel rude—just… lived-in. You find yourself leaning in more than you usually would, listening, talking, laughing without overthinking it.
Jules dabs the corner of her lips with her napkin before smiling at the two of you. “So, what have you two been up to all week?” she asks, eyes bright with curiosity.
You glance at Hyunjin instinctively before answering, like the memories are shared between you. “A bit of everything. Beach, shopping, exploring… eating way too much.”
Hyunjin hums in agreement beside you. “She’s not exaggerating.”
You nudge him lightly under the table. “This is actually our last day. We’re flying home tomorrow,” you share with a melancholic smile.
Jules’ expression drops into something genuinely sympathetic. “Already?”
Diane sighs, shaking her head. “That’s just rude. Time shouldn’t move that fast on vacation.”
You laugh softly, but there’s a quiet truth in it. “I think it’s because we enjoyed it too much,” you admit.
There’s a brief pause and then Diane leans forward slightly, eyes flicking between you and Hyunjin, a playful glint returning. “So…” she says, dragging the word just a little, “are you two still co-workers?”
You choke slightly on your drink. Heat rushes to your face instantly, your mind flashing back to earlier where Hyunjin kissed you and they must have seen everything. You glance at him, letting him answer this one.
“Yeah,” he says casually, reaching for his glass. “Still co-workers.”
Then, without missing a beat, he adds, “Sadly, I still need the paycheck.”
The table bursts into laughter. Diane shakes her head, smiling knowingly. “Oh, please. There’s definitely something going on here.”
You skip on answering again. You just smile a small, shy smile, a little caught.
“There is,” he says lightly like it’s no big deal. “I’ve liked her for a while but she didn’t know it.”
You keep your calm, eyes on the glass of wine you’re holding as you’re listening to his side of story.
“But once she did,” he continues, like he’s telling a harmless story. “She’s playing hard to get.”
Your head automatically turn toward him and stare at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
Jules and Diane laugh again, clearly enjoying every second of this. Diane looks at you then, softer this time, her smile warm as she says, “You’re doing the right thing.”
You smile at that before looking at Hyunjin again and give his knee a gentle slap under the table, a playful warning. But you can see that it doesn’t affect him whatsoever as he only grins in reaction.
By the time dessert comes, you’re comfortably full, but you still take another bite anyway. It’s too good not to.
Hyunjin excuses himself to the restroom and you’re watching him go for a second before turning back to your plate.
Jules notices your expression immediately. “Glad you’re enjoying the food,” she says with a soft smile.
You quickly wipe your mouth with your napkin, a little embarrassed. “Everything is just… really good.”
Diane nods approvingly. “Worth the trouble earlier.”
Jules looks at you, there’s hesitation in her eyes but she eventually leans in anyway. “I hope you don’t mind me asking. But … what took you this long?”
You put down your dessert spoon. “Pardon me?”
“I mean, I don’t know him that well but I can see that Hyunjin is great. And that boy is in love with you,” Jules explains, rather too seriously.
You’re a little taken aback by the mention of that word. Love. “I wouldn’t say—”
“He’s got these twinkles in his eyes every time he looks at you,” Diane cuts in before sipping her wine.
“So why do you hesitate much?” Jules asks again.
Your fingers curl lightly around your glass as you take a sip of water, buying yourself a second to think. You look at Diane and Jules and realize that you’ve only known them in matter of hours, but you feel comfortable to share openly.
“I think…” you start slowly, eyes dropping to the table for a moment, “I had this idea in my head that I’m… hard to love.”
The words come out lighter than you expect despite the fact that you’ve never shared this with anyone before. “And like… easy to leave.”
The table quiets like your openness, your honestly dazzle them. Jules reaches over without hesitation, her hand resting over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I know it can feel that way. But that’s not the truth,” she says, voice as soft as her gaze. “There’s no such thing as someone being hard to love. Sometimes people just don’t try hard enough. Or they’re not patient enough to learn how.”
Something in your chest loosens at that. You hadn’t realized how tightly you were holding onto it and how you let it held you back from getting what you want, what you deserve.
“You’re not hard to love,” Jules assures you once again, her other hand tapping gently at the back of your hand now.
“You know, I believe Hyunjin would give you the world,” Diane suddenly says, slightly off topic. But then she adds, “All you have to do is ask for it.”
You take a second to process their words and let them sink into you. Then you nod. “Thank you,” you genuinely say in gratitude.
You let out a short laugh of disbelief because you didn’t think that you would hear these words from two strangers and yet, they seem to know what you needed to hear. Like it’s meant to be.
“Were you talking about me?” Hyunjin says when he returns, sliding back into his seat and looking the three of you, suspiciously amused.
Diane doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
You and Jules burst out laughing. Diane follows after sipping her wine.
Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard for half a second before he laughs too. “Wow.”
“We also talked if we should do a round of drinks since this is your last day,” Jules adds, already opening the cocktails menu.
“That might be a problem,” Hyunjin says with a faint grimace.
You glance at him, sensing that he’s doing something. Something that is most likely mischievous. “What did you do?”
He shrugs and then digs into his dessert. “I already paid for everything.”
Jules and Diane immediately soften at that.
“That’s very kind of you,” Jules says.
Diane turns to you dramatically. “Marry him already.”
You laugh, shaking your head.
Jules flags down a waiter anyway. “Well, the drinks are on us,” she insists.
Hyunjin doesn’t even argue and instead, he playfully says, “Let’s make it three rounds then.”
“Deal,” Jules says in agreement, holding her hand out at him.
Hyunjin takes it and shakes it. “No takeback,” he says.
The table fills with laughter again and you realize that this is exactly how you wanted the night to end.
-
There’s another couple in the elevator, standing near the panel and rapidly talking to each other in a language you don’t understand, and you can’t tell if they’re just talking or arguing. You decide not to mind someone else’s business and focus on how content you feel tonight, how the night couldn’t have ended better than this.
Then you feel the way Hyunjin’s hand finds yours and laces it together with yours. You turn to meet his eyes only for him to begin steering you toward the corner until your back meets the wall.
He steps in close and your breath catches just a little as he stops right in front of you, leaving only inches between your bodies. You look up at him and he’s already looking at you. A smile etched on his face, knowing and a little dangerous.
You swallow, trying to keep your composure. “That was…” you start, forcing your voice to stay light, “a really nice way to end the last day.”
He nods once, eyes never leaving yours. “Yeah.”
You try again, grasping for something normal, less intense. “It’s a shame we still have to pack after this.”
He slowly shakes his head and then, leans in until his mouth hovers near your ear, close enough that you feel it before you even process the words. “There’s a better way to end the night,” he murmurs, voice is low and warm, sending a quiet shiver down your spine.
You try not to react, try not to give in so easily. But then he leans in again, just a fraction closer, and this time, his breath brushes your ear as he whispers, “Way better.”
When he pulls back, just enough for you to see his face again, that grin is still there with mischief written all over it, like he already knows exactly what he’s doing to you. And worse,
like he knows it’s working.
-
After everything that’s already happened between you. After the way his eyes have seen and admired your body, hands have learned the shape of it. You don’t expect to the nerves, they’re subtle yet slowly creeping in as you stand in the bathroom, fingers fixing the ties of your bikini. You exhale slowly to calm yourself down and reach for the bathrobe, wrapping yourself in it before stepping out.
The balcony doors are open and the night air greets you first, cool and salted, brushing against your skin. You linger there on the doorway, one hand braced against the glass door as you find Hyunjin is already in the tub. His arms are stretched along the edge, posture relaxed. Water glows softly around him under dim lights, tracing the line of his back muscles, the broad shoulder, the slope of his back. His hair is tied up, messy, a few damp strands clinging to the nape of his neck.
You stay there and take a moment to take him in, the way he looks like a Greek God with the sea stretches against him, dark and endless, catching the half-moon in broken reflections.
It’s like he senses your eyes on him, he slowly turns his head and lights up when he sees you. “You made me wait,” he says, turning to the side, one hand draping over the edge of the tub.
You suddenly get flustered, like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. You recover quickly, stepping toward him, lifting a brow. “Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself.”
His grin answers that for him, running his wet hand through his hair.
You untie the robe, letting it fall open before slipping it off, and his eyes slightly widen at the reveal — the white bikini you’re wearing underneath.
He hurriedly holds his hand out, guiding you into the tub and you take it, kicking your slippers off your feet before finally putting a foot into the tub and then another. The water welcomes you instantly, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you lower yourself into it, heat curling around your body until you’re submerged, weightless in a way that feels almost unreal.
You barely settle before he pulls you onto his lap, your back meets his solid chest and you melt into it without thinking like your body already knows the shape of him, the way you fit.
His arms wrap around you, one draped low across your abdomen, the other circling you fully, holding you in place. Holding you with him.
All of a sudden, the nerves vanish and fade into the water.
His lips brush your shoulder first and then higher, along your neck, each touch lingering just enough to make you feel it twice. You lowly giggle as he places ticklish kisses on that sensitive skin behind your ear. Instead of stopping, he gently grabs your chin to turn your head to the side, allowing him to capture your lips in his.
The kiss is deep and unrushed in a way that steals the air from your lungs more effectively than anything hurried ever could. His tongue tirelessly coaxing you to part your lips open, the second you don, he sucks on your tongue before twirling it with his. He deepens the kiss once more and it gradually softens from there. By the time he pulls back, you’re gasping for air, chest rising and falling against his.
He lets you settle again, arms tightening, keeping you close to him.
You sink into him, head tipping back against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded. “This feels nice,” you murmur.
He hums, low and pleased, lips brushing your neck again like punctuation.
Your hand lifts, finding his jaw blindly, fingers grazing his skin. “We should’ve done this every day.”
Another hum. Agreement. Or maybe just contentment. He shifts slightly, turning his head to the other side of your neck, burying his face there like he’s claiming the space and you let him.
For a long moment, the two of you stay like that. The water laps quietly. The ocean beyond mirrors the sky. The world narrows to warmth, to the steady rhythm of two people not needing to say anything.
Until Hyunjin opens his mouth and curiously asks, “What makes you think you’re hard to love?”
You stiffen just a little, realizing that Hyunjin probably listened in on the deep talk you shared with Jules and Diane earlier. Your head turns sharply, eyes narrowing in a playful glare. “You’re not supposed to eavesdrop on our talk. Our girls’ talk.”
He grins, unapologetic. He probably didn’t mean to and just happened to be there when you shared.
You click your tongue at him. You’re not actually mad, just surprised that he heard it, that he heard it this soon. But he’s not a stranger and eventually, he’d know and you want him to understand.
So you sigh softly, gaze drifting out toward the sea. “I used to think… that love is something you have to earn. That you have to give… more. Do more. Be more. That you have to greatly sacrifice yourself for it.”
You rest your hand on his forearm, fingers tighten slightly over it. “Otherwise… they leave.”
He lets go of your hand only to catch it in his, intertwining them together and rests it over your chest. And to your surprise, he says, “Yeah, you weren’t easy.”
You huff a quiet laugh, slightly offended. “Huh?”
“You know… with your plans,” he adds, brushing his nose lightly against your temple, “your schedules… your rules.”
You smile despite yourself, feeling called out and slightly embarrassed.
When he speaks again, he waits until your eyes looking at him. “But you you’re not hard to love,” he says, voice is as soft as his gaze.
You nod, slowly. Because you’re starting to believe that. Because maybe it was never about being hard to love. Just being loved the wrong way.
His lips press gently to your temple. “All you have to do is let it happen.”
You turn your head slightly, looking at him. “Okay,” you say, and really mean it.
“And yes, I’d give you the world if you ask for it,” he adds with a playful grin.
You softly smile at that and before it can fade, he captures it with a kiss, so soft it almost feels like a promise rather than a kiss. It lingers long enough to make your chest tighten. Long enough to make something inside you shift.
When he pulls away, your hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing lightly over his skin.
“This vacation changed you,” you tease.
He scoffs softly, dramatically correcting you. “Free vacation.”
“Right,” you say, kissing him again.
This time, you turn on his lap, shifting until you’re facing him, straddling him now, water rippling around you both. You put your hands on his shoulders, staring into the brown of his eyes and Diane was right, you can see the twinkles in them as he looks at you.
A hand comes up to his jaw and tenderly holds the side of his face. Then slowly, you lean in, kissing him with your heart open and letting the content pours into the kiss, into him.
His hands sliding along your sides, over your waist, mapping you out like he’s allowed to now. Like he knows he is. He’s pulling you closer, holding you tighter.
You let yourself fall into it easily. Because it’s him. Because it feels right. Because you don’t want to stop.
When he breaks the kiss, it’s only to drag his mouth lower, lips trailing along your neck. He trails lower still, opening his mouth slightly wider as he places searing little kisses down your chest until he’s buried between your soft mounds.
Instinctively, your hands trail along his shoulders and gather in the back of his neck, fingers tangled in his damp hair. Your breath stutters as he plants his soft lips on the skin before his mouth opens slightly wider to take a mouthful of your flesh and lightly sucking on it.
A low, breathless gasp falls out of your mouth as he yanks down the cup of your bikini, wasting no time to take your hardening nipple into his mouth, tongue circling on it. your hands tangled deeper in his hair, mouth buried in his dark locks as you cradle his head close to your chest.
You’re humming from the feel of his mouth devouring your breast and yet, it doesn’t quite satisfy his hunger. So impatiently, a hand trails up your spine, finding the knot of your bikini straps there, tied on the nape of your neck and clumsily pulling at it until it snaps open. In the end, he takes the whole thing off of you, tossing your wet bikini top aside.
Hyunjin pulls back just enough to look at you, at your bare chest and the way your breasts hung beautifully on your chest, inviting him to touch, to feel. He doesn’t stop himself for using both hands, each one kneading, fingers pinching at the sensitive buds.
You shake your head, looking down at his wide eyes, dark with lust. Half-amused, half-aroused. “Are you trying to put on a show?”
He presses a warm kiss on your sternum and then pulls away with a dazed smile, eyes glinting. “Maybe.”
The answer sends a small, unexpected thrill through you. So you lean in and kiss him, but it only lasts for a few seconds as he breaks the kiss. He shifts his focus back to your chest. Hands pushing them to the middle so he can greedily take both nipples at once.
“Hyunjin…” you breathlessly call, uselessly trying to stop him.
But of course, he pretends not to hear or decides to ignore you completely, his mouth too busy sucking on your breasts, teeth lightly tugging at your nipples just to tease you, making you whimper in reaction.
You gently cup his jaw, tilting his head up just enough for his eyes to meet yours. You run your hand through his hair as you look at him and say, “What don’t we go inside… and I’ll put on a good show for you?”
That works to make him pause, eyebrow raised in curiosity. He slowly detaches his mouth, leaving your nipples wet with his saliva and raw from all of his sucking. He looks at you, lips curving into a smirk.
“Then what are we waiting for?”
-
You barely make it out of the shower without touching him again. It’s ridiculous how quickly the tension comes back, how the heat clings even after the water washes everything clean. Your robe sticks lightly to your skin and Hyunjin’s the same, hair still wet and brushed to the back.
The second you step into the room, your hand finds his, guiding—no, steering—him straight to the bed. He drops onto the edge of the mattress, looking up at you like he already knows he’s about to lose whatever control he thought he had.
You climb onto his lap, knees settling on either side of his hips, and the moment your bodies meet—he exhales, like he’s been holding that breath since the hot tub. Your hands find his face first and then your lips. The kiss lands deep, immediate, like you’re trying to pick up where you left it.
He responds just as quickly, hands coming up to your waist, pulling you closer like he needs to feel all of you at once. The kiss goes on, long enough to blur the line between breath and touch. Until he breaks it and then rests his forehead against yours.
“So… when does the actual show start?” he asks, voice low and a little hoarse.
You click your tongue softly, pulling back just enough to look at him. “You’re not even ready for it.”
His plush lips curve into a sly smirk. “I’m always ready.”
“Yeah?” you murmur, fingers slipping to the edges of his robe. “Let’s see.”
Your hands work slowly as you untie it and then pull it open just until it drapes around his shoulders. You place a hand on his chest, still warm and damp from the shower. Yet, you lean in without hesitation, placing kisses along his neck, down to his collarbone, letting each touch of your lips on his skin linger just long enough to make him react.
He does. He reacts in sharp inhales and quiet hisses, his grip on your waist tightening.
You pull back and slip the robe off your shoulders until it’s falling away completely, and for a second, his hands just stay on your waist. Like he’s still deciding where to start.
Once he’s decided, his hands move without hesitation. They’re on you, all at once, warm and little greedy. You’re joining him as he once again fondling on your breasts, feeling the way he touches you, feeling yourself. Your head tilting side to side as you humming in delight.
You let go as he leans in, burying his head between your soft mounds and let him stay there, shivering just slightly as he inhales your skin like he couldn’t get enough of your scent.
When he tilts his head up, looking at you again, you catch him off guard with a haste, messy kiss. As you keep his mouth busy, your hand slips between you, finding his cock strained and hot to the touch. His breath stutters against your mouth as you stroke him slowly, thumb circling around the head, feeling him pulsating for you.
A small hum escapes you. Your half-lidded eyes locked with his as you mutter, “Yeah… you’re ready.”
He lets out a soft laugh that doesn’t quite sound like a laugh anymore.
Your hands move to his shoulders, gripping at them firmly as you lift yourself just slightly, positioning his cock to your entrance and then, slowly taking him into you.
Hyunjin stills, his grip tightening on you, mouth dropping open like he’s about to say something but the pleasure overwhelms him, knocking the thoughts out of his head. His eyes flick down, widening at the way you easily ease down yourself on his cock. And then, it hits him.
“Wait,” he says in a rushed tone, his grip is impossibly hard now. “The condom.”
You hush him softly, while continue taking more of him into you. “It’s okay,” you murmur.
There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he’s not convinced yet. “But—"
You press a kiss to his lips. A gentle, reassuring kiss. “I’m on the pills. It’s okay,” you calmly say.
Slowly, his grip loosens as he decides to trust you and you do the same, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, leaning in closer as you take the remaining of his length. You let the distance disappear in a way that feels less like urgency and more like choice. Like you’re both stepping into it together.
Hyunjin’s mouth stays open the whole time, eyes dazed and dark, continuously locked in a heated gaze with yours. A low sound caught somewhere between surprise and something deeper.
The second he’s fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls. You wrap your arms tighter around his shoulder, drawing yourself closer to him until there’s no gap left between your bodies. You press your forehead against his, letting out breathe that more like a soft laugh of relief.
“My god, you feel so good inside me,” you mutter in a hint of disbelief, lips grazing his as you speak.
Hyunjin, still overwhelmed, swallows air and forces himself to say something, do something. A beat later, he glides his hands up, holding you by the ribcage now, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing over the skin. “Is it really okay?” he asks again, voice barely audible, like he’s still processing this.
You laugh softly and then place a soft kiss on his lips. “More than okay,” you answer with a smile.
That seems to be all what he needs to hear. His hands slide up your back, holding you closer. A hand gently curves around the nape of your neck, angling your head slightly to the side as he leans in and kisses you, slower this time, like he’s trying to give himself a chance to catch up.
When you pull away, you put on the softest smile and ask, “So, how does it feel?”
He lets out a quiet exhale, almost a laugh. “You feel… so fucking perfect. So perfect for me.”
That makes you smile and you tilt your head, eyes softly gaze into his eyes. “How much would you rate it?” you ask, playful but edged with curiosity.
He captures your lips in a slow, heated kiss. “Infinite out of ten,” he finally answers after pulling away, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
That also makes you smile and you hastily kiss him, conveying that words couldn’t. You shift slightly on his lap and the slightest movement is enough to remind you of his whole size inside you, filling you, stretching you deliciously.
“I’m going to move, mmh?” you say.
“No, wait,” he says, gripping at you like he wouldn’t let go. “If you move now, I think I’m done for.”
You chuckle at that and kiss him again instead of answering, slow and reassuring, giving him a moment to adjust, to compose himself. And when you finally move, you move just a little, just enough but it draws a reaction out of him that he can’t hide, his head tipping back slightly, grip tightening again.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he sighs, half scolding, half in pleasure.
You keep your rhythm slow and steady, moving your hips in rolling motions and somehow, without the layer of protection, you feel even more sensitive around him. And oh, he just feels so good. Hot and hard, penetrating you deeper and deeper in each passing second.
“You feel so good,” you say again and again, not caring how much you’ve said it before.
It’s so easy to fall into it, into the feeling of him and the way his eyes stay on you, heavy and focused, like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of it. The way your name almost slips from his lips but doesn’t quite make it out.
It’s clear that it’s getting overwhelming for both of you so you pause. You kiss his mouth, deep and messy, lips and tongues crashing together. Once you pulled away, you lean back with one hand still gripping his shoulder as support and then continue moving.
Seeing your breasts bouncing merely inches away from him, he doesn’t skip the chance but cling to it, mouth sucking hard on your nipple like he’s one thirsty man.
You gasp when he sucks too hard, but the added stimulation keeps you going, keeps you moving and tirelessly chasing your high. Your hand slides up to his neck, grounding yourself there as you lean in again, pressing your lips against the top of his head, on his temple and then forehead. Then pull away just slightly, just enough to look down at him.
“I want this to last,” you whisper, voice small and quivering on the edges.
He pulls away with a gasp before lifting his head, looking back into your eyes. A soft smile pulling at his mouth despite everything. “Then let’s stay like this,” he murmurs back, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Forever.”
There’s something in the way he says it. Playful? Yes. But not entirely. You feel that thread of something real, woven into all the heat and closeness. You let yourself believe it that maybe this could last longer than just tonight.
-
You stay there with him, moving slowly, letting the rhythm build instead of chasing it, letting yourself feel every shift, every reaction he gives you. And he gives you plenty.
His hands tighten around you, fingers digging into your skin like he’s trying to keep you right where you are—like he already knows you’re getting close.
You are.
It creeps up on you in waves, soft at first, then stronger, until your breath starts to falter and your grip on him changes without you meaning to.
His arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you flush against him, his face dipping into the curve of your neck as if he wants to hide there, breathe you in, anchor himself to you while everything starts to tip over.
“You’re close, mmh?” he lowly asks, almost swallowed against your skin.
But you’re already there, already slipping.
When you hit your high, it pulls a soft, unfiltered sound from you and he holds you through it, closer than before, like he’s not letting you drift too far from him even for a second.
His lips find yours again almost immediately, kissing you deeper. Like he’s chasing you through it. Like he wants to stay right there with you, even as you’re still catching your breath.
“You look so beautiful…” he pauses, brushing his thumb across your cheek, gaze heavy and soft all at once. “Coming around me like this.”
You can only manage a small, breathless smile as you cling to him and trying to steady yourself again.
But his grip shifts, and before you can fully process it, he’s guiding you back until your back meets the bed. He moves with utmost care, almost protective, like he’s making sure you land softly, like nothing about this moment is meant to be rushed.
He hovers over you, eyes searching yours and then he kisses you again. His mouth drifts from yours, trailing down your jaw, your neck and each kiss lighter than before, but somehow just as intense. It’s not about urgency anymore. It’s about staying.
Your fingers find his hair, brushing it back, holding him there when he dips lower, making a long trail of kisses down your front and only stopping when his mouth lands on your still sensitive, still pulsating clit.
He burrows onto the mattress, arms curve under your thighs and makes himself comfortable there, on the space between your legs. Like this is where he lives now.
He takes his time to please you with his mouth, tongue landing small, featherlight licks, lips capturing your clit in soft kisses while his mouth occasionally sucking on it. Just enough to make you restless. Just enough to make your legs tremble and your toes curl.
He lets go only to place kisses on your inner thighs before crawling over you, hovering above you once more. He takes a moment to just admire, one hand gliding down your torso and then settles on the curve of your waist.
“So beautiful, so perfect…” he murmurs in a mix of disbelief and awe. Then he crashes his mouth onto yours, taking your breath away in every brush of his lips against yours.
When he finally settles between your legs again, the tension is thicker and heavier now. He doesn’t rush back into you. Not yet. Just rubbing his length between your slick folds, letting your essence lubricating it. He lets the moment stretch, lets you feel him how hard he is, lets you want it until you can’t help but touch him, guiding his cock to your clit and circling the tip around it. You keep your eyes locked with his as you do and there’s something in the way he looks at you now — he’s almost gone. In the best way.
You push the tip down, aiming it toward your entrance and push it just an inch. And yet, it’s enough to elicit a quiet, low sound he doesn’t even try to hide. You arch your body, letting him feel the way you wrapped around him once more.
Hyunjin sighs, like he’s trying to calm himself down before finally does the rest, pushing forward and penetrating you again. His eyes don’t stray, they focused on the way his length sliding into you little by little. By the time he’s fully bottomed out, he stills. Like he needs to adjust, to steady himself, to not lose it right then and there.
You feel it the way he trembles slightly, the way his hands flex at your sides, the way his breathing changes. And then—
“You take me so easily now,” he murmurs, rough around the edges. His thumb presses on your clit, gently circling and applying just the right pressure on it
You slyly smile in return, lifting your knees higher and cupping your breasts in your hands, giving yourself the extra stimulation your body seeks.
The sight arouses Hyunjin so much that for a brief moment, he just stays there, watching you touching yourself. His hips begin moving then, ever so slowly but the motions only allow him to feel you more. More intense than before.
Hyunjin’s eyes screwed shut for a second like he’s struggling to keep up with what he’s feeling and seeing. When he opens them, they meet you right away. “I fucked you so many times that you’ve taken the shape of me, yeah?” he murmurs, followed by a shaky exhale.
Instead of answering, you put your legs down and around his waists, hands reaching for his shoulders to bring him close until he’s settled on top of you. You kiss him and he kisses you back in the same eagerness, almost sloppy.
And at the same time, Hyunjin keeps moving his hips in rolling motions and it always impresses you how he moves like his body made of fluid, flowing and unrestrained. Each motion measured, like he’s trying to hold onto control while still giving into it.
Praises slipping between kisses—soft murmurs that make you flutter in a way that has nothing to do with the physical anymore. You’re too deep in it now. Not just the feeling.
Him.
The way he’s looking at you. The way he’s holding you. The way this doesn’t feel like just a shared intimate moment—it feels like something more.
Your hands find his, and he laces your fingers together, pressing them into the bed as he quickens the pace, enough to pull another breath from you, enough to bring you right back to that edge again.
“Hyunjin…” you whisper his name.
He hums against your lips, barely pulling away. “Yeah?”
“I’m close…”
The words come out softer, more vulnerable than you expect.
He exhales, pressing his forehead to yours for a brief second before kissing you again. “Just—stay with me a little longer.”
You nod, even if you’re not sure you can. And when he deepens his thrusting, it becomes harder to think about anything else. Harder to hold back.
“I can’t—” you mutter breathlessly, body squirming and quivering. “I can’t hold it back anymore.”
When you finally let go, it takes him with you. There’s no holding it this time, no stopping it. He breaks with a rough, guttural groan that spills out of his mouth as he pulls you closer, burying himself against you, the moment crashing over him just as hard.
The soft, quiet stillness comes after. His forehead rests against yours, breath still uneven, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. He looks at you like he’s seeing something new. Something important.
He waits until your eyes are focused and meeting him. And the he says it.
“I love you.”
The words hang between you for a moment, you let them sink in, let them seep into somewhere deep in your chest. you have the answer but the words feel strange, feel heavy on your tongue. You try anyway, opening your mouth, but he stops with a kiss.
“You don’t have to say it back,” he murmurs, thumb swiping across your lips.
You smile lazily at that. “Well, I don’t want to,” you playfully say.
He huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Then don’t.”
But your hand comes up to his cheek, thumb brushing lightly across his skin, your gaze steady on his. And this time, you don’t hesitate.
“But I love you.”
He stills for a second. Like he didn’t expect it. Like he’s not sure he heard it right. And then he breaks into laughter as if he’s trying to release the nerves, the worries and concerns.
And with that, he leans in and kisses you again, body lowering until he’s settled on top of you. Until your bodies fit together. Until your hearts are lying close to each other with mere bones and flesh in between. The hearts that have chosen each other.
Hopefully—
Forever.
-
Hyunjin doesn’t think he’s ever been this aware of silence before. The kind that hums softly, wrapped around the steady drone of the plane, tucked between the quiet breaths you take beside him. The kind that feels comfortable, content.
He shifts slightly in his seat, shoulder brushing yours, just to make sure you’re still there, still real. Because a part of him keeps whispering that this was all too good to be true. Like something his mind would make up just to torture him later.
He exhales slowly, running a hand through his long hair before turning his head and there you are, sitting beside him with legs tucked in just a little, scrolling through your phone with that faint crease between your brows—the one he’s grown ridiculously fond of. The one he used to call annoying. The one he now thinks about at the most inconvenient times.
As if you feel him looking, you glance up and softly smile at him. And just like that, the noise in his head quiets.
You lean closer, talking so low that it feels like it’s just for him. “The pharmaceutical company emailed. They want a review for the couple’s test program.”
“Really?” he asks, one brow lifted.
You nod, already shrugging it off and shoving your phone into your bag. “Let’s just do it later.”
Later. He lingers on that word for a second.Later means this continues.Later means you’re not… done.
You nudge him lightly, already leaning close to his. “Wanna watch something?”
He nods, clearing his throat a little. “Yeah. Let’s finish that movie we didn’t get to watch.”
You hum, already leaning forward to scroll through the in-flight screen, mumbling under your breath. “I don’t even know if they have it…”
A moment later, you look at him and shake your head, lips slightly curled into a pout. “They don’t have it.”
And god, that face. He smiles without meaning to, something soft and helpless slipping through before he can stop it. “Just pick anything.”
You drop your hand to your lap. “No. You pick this time.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh, like he’s been handed something far more serious than choosing a movie. “Alright.”
He scrolls through the options, squinting like he’s studying for an exam. Then, he jokingly mutters, “I don’t think they have porn on this thing.”
Your hand flies to his mouth, muffling him as you half-laugh, half-scold, “Are you insane? There are kids around.”
His eyes widen in mock innocence as he glances around, deliberately dramatic. “I don’t see any.”
“Just pick a movie,” you tell him while gently patting his cheek. “A normal, flight-friendly movie.”
Another moment passed with him scrolling through the movie selection and ends up with something light, a teen comedy movie. You both slip on the headsets, and before the opening scene even finishes, you link your arm through his, head settling comfortably against his shoulder. Like you’ve done it a hundred times. Like you’re going to do it a hundred more.
Hyunjin presses play and for the first half of the movie, the two of you share quiet commentary, soft chuckles, the occasional glance at each other when something particularly dumb happens on screen.
He lets himself sink into it this time, lets himself believe that just because the vacation is over, doesn’t mean it’s over. It’s still happening. You and him.
Somewhere in the middle of the movie, you get quiet and he notices it a little too late. He tilts his head, looking down and as expected, you’re fast asleep. Your face slightly smushed against his arm, lips parted in the softest pout, brows relaxed now, all that focus and awareness melted into something unbearably soft.
He exhales a quiet laugh. “Again?” he murmurs under his breath. But his voice is fond. So, so fond.
Carefully, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your pout. The kiss lingers there for half a second longer than he intended to before pulling back, eyes soft as he stares at your face. Then he reaches up, slipping your headset off, then his.
The movie keeps playing silently for a moment before he pauses it altogether. He straightens on his seat, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer until you’re properly tucked against his side, your head resting more comfortably now against his chest.
You instinctively curl into him, like even in your sleep, you know he’s safe. Like you trust him. Completely. And that means more than anything.
The restlessness fades. Not completely. Because maybe things will change when you land. Maybe work will get in the way. Maybe reality will creep back in. But this isn’t something that disappears the moment the plane touches the ground. He knows that now. He presses his cheek lightly against the top of your head, eyes drifting shut for just a second.
Some things stay the same.
And some things change.
And for once, he’s not afraid of either.
-
Hyunjin doesn’t realize how tightly he’s been holding onto that quiet, fragile feeling until the door clicks open. You step in first and he follows, wheeling both suitcases in with a soft thud against the floor. He turns back to close the door, hand lingering on the handle a second too long like he’s sealing something in, or maybe trying to keep something from slipping away.
When he turns around, you’re already looking at him. Your smile is soft and content, a little tired too, but that’s understandable.
“It’s so nice to be home,” you sigh.
Yeah. It is.
You don’t give him time to sit in it, though. You walk right up to him, slipping a hand to his waist, tugging him closer. The kiss you give him is a quick brush of your lips against him, but his heart flips anyway.
Then you look at him, casual as anything. “Are you hungry?”
He huffs a small laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Yeah.”
You grin, reaching up to pat his cheek lightly like he’s done something right. “Can you please order something delicious for us?”
How can he say no when you look at him with a soft gaze and a soft smile?
“Of course,” he answers without argument. He pulls his phone out immediately, scrolling through options while you disappear briefly to set your things down.
By the time the food arrives, you’re both settled at the dining table, still in your travel clothes, too comfortable to care. In between bites of food, the two you talk about the vacation — the rocky beginning, the fun bits, the unexpected things you encountered and discovered.
You talk with such zest and Hyunjin finds himself watching you more than listening sometimes. The way your eyes crinkle, the way your hand gestures mid-story, the way you lean back in your chair when you laugh like you’ve forgotten everything else exists.
He wants to stay here, right in this version of things. Where it’s just you and him, a table between you, shared food, shared stories, no expectations pressing in from the outside. A small, selfish part of him wonders if it’s possible to stretch this moment, make it last just a little longer before reality starts knocking again.
But eventually, the plates are empty and you push your chair back with a quiet sigh, stretching slightly as you stand.
He gets ahead of you, collecting plates and stacking them together. “I’ll do it,” he offers.
“Thanks,” you murmur before walking up to him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
And when you pull away, you look at him like you know exactly what that did to him. “I’ll be waiting for you upstairs.”
You say it so casually and don’t say anything else after, but let him figure it out himself.
Hyunjin just stands there with dirty dishes in hand. Brain lagging behind. He watches you cross the living room, grab your bag from the sofa, then head upstairs without a second glance back. Your footsteps fade, followed by the soft sound of a door opening and then closing.
Upstairs? Does that mean you want him in your bedroom?His eyes flick briefly toward the staircase, then back down at the dishes in his hands.
“You’re definitely inviting me,” he says to no one, shaking his head in disbelief.
There’s no point pretending otherwise. Still, he forces himself to finish cleaning, faster and a little rushed, his thoughts already halfway upstairs with you. Because all he can think about is you, up there, waiting for him.
-
Hyunjin pushes the door open with his shoulder, backpack hanging loosely from his hand. He steps into your room, slower than he needs to, like he’s taking it in properly this time.
You’re not there, but he hears the sound of water running from the bathroom.
He lets out a quiet breath, something between relief and anticipation, and walks further in, setting his backpack down by the nightstand before lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.
The room already feels familiar. It’s still in the same layout. The same sheets. The same faint scent that lingers in the air, something that’s just… you. But it feels different.
Last time he was here, he wasn’t supposed to be. He remembers moving around quietly, careful not to leave a trace, like he was borrowing something that didn’t belong to him.
Now? Now he’s sitting here because you told him to come. Because you want him here. Because this is no longer something hidden between moments.
He leans back slightly on his hands, eyes drifting around the room, a small smile tugging at his lips before he even realizes it.
The bathroom door creaks open and he turns his head instantly to find you standing in the doorway with your hair down, dressed down in a simple night dress that somehow does more to him than anything else you’ve worn all day.
“Hey!” you call out with an edge to it. Like you’re seeing something that doesn’t belong in your room.
Did he—? Did he get it wrong? Did he read too much into everything?
But before the thought can even settle, you walk toward him, stopping just close enough to look down at where he’s sitting. “That’s my side of the bed.”
God. He overthinks it again. He shakes his head at himself, dragging a hand through his hair. “Right. Of course it is.”
You cross your arms, still holding onto that mock glare, but there’s a grin threatening at the corner of your lips.
He plays along, letting out an exaggerated sigh as he grabs his things. “I come all the way here and I don’t even get a good spot.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling now.
He walks around the bed, dropping onto the other side, tossing his things down like he’s been doing this forever.
You watch him for a second before nodding toward the bathroom. “Go wash up. Hurry.”
He groans softly, dragging himself up again. “Bossy.”
“Go. Now!”
“Okay, okay,” he mutters with hands lifted in defeat, already heading toward the bathroom.
Soon enough, Hyunjin comes out of the bathroom with a towel slung over his shoulder, hair still slightly damp, the warmth from the shower clinging to his skin.
The first thing he sees is you, sitting comfortably against the headboard, legs stretched out under the blanket, phone in your hands as your thumbs move quickly across the screen. The warm glow of the bedside lamp lights up your face, softening your features.
You glance up the second he steps into view and smile. It hits him instantly that he should get used to it now.
“Well,” you say, a teasing edge in your voice, “thank you for not taking forever in there.”
He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he walks over. “You’re welcome. I tried my best not to inconvenience you.”
You narrow your eyes playfully, but the smile stays.
He sets his things down on your nightstand while you lock your phone and put it aside without a second thought. Then you shift, sliding further down into the bed, patting the space next to you. “Hurry. Get in.”
He rolls his eyes, dragging out a dramatic sigh like he’s being forced into it. “So demanding.”
He takes his time anyway, pulling the covers back, settling in beside you, but the second he’s there, you snuggle up to him. Like it’s where you’re meant to be.
He doesn’t even think about it but offers his arm, letting you rest your head on it, adjusting slightly so you’re comfortable. Your body melts into his side, and he feels the soft hum you let out against him.
His fingers drift to your hair, brushing through it gently, slow and absent-minded. His other hand finds yours, threading your fingers together before softly kissing the your knuckle and resting your laced hands over his chest.
The room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing, the faint rustle of sheets shifting with every small movement. This is nice and he is relaxes, and yet, one thing sitting in the back of his mind, refusing to stay quiet.
He swallows, then nudges you slightly. “Hey.”
You hum in response, eyes already half-closed. “Mmh?”
“You’re not gonna get weird tomorrow, right?”
You let out a small scoff of laughter against him. “Get weird how?”
He keeps his voice steady and the tone casual. “Like… you’re not gonna go back to how you used to be with me.”
You tilt your head up to look at him, brows lifting. “And how did I used to be with you?”
He grins, a little sheepish now. “You know. Like you’re always annoyed by me. Like… I’m just your test partner.”
A quiet chuckle leaves you and your eyes flutter, forcing them open to look at him. “First thing first, I’ll always be annoyed by you,” you murmur with a playful smile.
Hyunjin rolls his eyes and sighs, but he knows that part is true. He doesn’t think he’ll stop annoying you sometime soon.
“Secondly,” you continue, looking and sounding a little serious now. “Congratulations, you just got promoted as my long-term booty call.”
He lets out a breath that should turn into a laugh. But your answer is not quite the one he wants to hear, not the kind of assurance he seeks. Before he can say anything else, you suddenly burst into laughter, shifting over him until you’re half on top of him, looking down at him like he’s the most ridiculous person alive.
“We’ve been—” you cut yourself off with another laugh, shaking your head, “—we’ve been fucking each other for days, said ‘I love you,’ and now you’re here, in my bed… and you’re still asking what we are?”
He presses his lips together, trying to hold it in and fails. A laugh escapes him out of embarrassment. “Just making sure,” he mutters while nodding to himself.
You roll your eyes and then drop your head to the side, quietly chuckling.
He looks at you and carefully asks, “Can I tell people about it?”
“I’d rather keep it low-key,” you eloquently answer like you expected that question from him.
His brows knit slightly. “Why?”
You reach up, brushing a strand of his hair back. “I don’t want to mix work and personal stuff. And I definitely don’t want to give the office something to gossip about.”
He gets it. He fully understands it. But still, he pouts because a part of him wants to the tell the world that you’re his. “So… I can’t tell anyone?”
You smile, amused. “You can.”
His eyes light up slightly at that, but then you quickly add, “Only if someone asks.”
The pout comes back immediately and you barely have time to laugh before he suddenly rolls over, flipping you onto your back beneath him. You let out a small sound of surprise, but you’re smiling.
He hovers over you, looking down with that familiar mix of mischief and something softer underneath. “Do you really love me?” he asks.
You grin instantly. “Do you really love me?”
He leans down, nudging his nose against yours. “I asked first.”
You hold his gaze and just to make this difficult, you answer, “Sometimes, I do.”
He narrows his eyes, leans in and gently bites your nose.
You shriek, laughing, hands flying to his face as you cup his jaw, pressing a quick kiss there.
“I want to take things slow. I want to keep this between us for a bit longer.”
He nods in understanding. But then—
“Can I at least tell our CMO?”
You laugh immediately, knowing that Seungmin will be likely the first person Hyunjin would declare this relationship to. “Yes.”
He nods, satisfied. “That’s enough.”
And just like that, he leans down, giving you a long, lingering kiss. A kiss that says more than he bothers putting into words.
“No more questions. I’m tired,” you half mumble with eyes closed.
“Okay,” he says, tangling his hand in your hair and gently brushing it. But not even a second later, he asks, “How about one more kiss?”
You sharply exhale air through your nostrils before tilting your head up. “Just one more kiss,” you murmur.
Hyunjin makes the best of it, capturing your soft lips in his and kissing you. Less heat, more intent. With his whole heart. When he pulls away, he smiles and lowly murmurs against your lips, “Goodnight.”
You smile with your eyes closed. “Goodnight,” you say back, just as softly.
Then he rolls back onto his side, pulling you with him, tucking you close like before. You fit there perfectly. His arm wraps around you, hand resting at your back, holding you close as your breathing slowly evens out.
And this time, his mind is quiet because when morning comes, he knows you’ll still be right here.
-
The moment you open your eyes, you see him.
Hyunjin, right beside you. So close that you can feel his breath, soft and even against your skin. His face is slightly smushed into the pillow, lips parted in the faintest pout, hair a mess in the way that makes him look softer and unguarded. And somehow, a lot more attractive.
There’s something about seeing him like this that makes your chest feel a little too full and your lips curve into a smile
Carefully, you shift closer. Your fingers hover for a moment before brushing lightly along his jaw, tracing the line of it. Then you lean in, pressing small, lingering kisses there—one, two, three—slow and gentle, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin under your lips.
He doesn’t stir. Not even a little as you smile against him. So you press one more kiss and this time to his lips and to no one surprise, still nothing.
It’s only when you start adjusting the blanket and shifting your leg, he finally reacts. A low groan slips out of him as he burrows deeper into the pillow, voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”
You reach for your phone, squinting slightly at the brightness before answering, “Six seventeen.”
He groans louder like he has issues with those numbers, and immediately turns his face further into the pillow. “Wake me up in an hour,” he mumbles.
He sounds so serious about it. Like it’s a real plan. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.
Then, after a beat, his voice comes again, slurred and drifting. “Actually… don’t wake me up at all.”
You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head a little as you hum in response. “Noted.”
You lean down again, pressing another gentle kiss to his lips. And this time, he reacts, just barely. As you pull away, his lips follow yours, chasing for a second before he catches you in a lazy, lingering peck. It’s clumsy, half-asleep, but warm in a way that settles in your chest. Then just as quickly, he’s burrowing back into the pillow, arm loosely draped where you were moments ago and go back to sleep.
You watch him for a brief moment before willing yourself to start moving. You stretch slightly, easing yourself out of bed, careful not to disturb him again. Morning is here and for once, you don’t feel like you have to brace yourself for anything.
You fall into your routine almost instinctively—shower, clothes, skincare and by the time you’re in the kitchen, the sun is already filtering in through the windows, warm and bright. You set breakfast together from whatever you have left in your fridge. Oatmeal, a few extras on the side and pour yourself a cup of coffee.
You’re halfway through your first sip when you hear his slow, dragging footsteps. You glance up just as Hyunjin appears at the bottom of the stairs with messy hair and eyes barely open, one hand rubbing at his face like he’s still negotiating with the idea of being awake. Yet, his expression changes instantly the second he sees you. He smiles as he walks into the kitchen.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice still heavy with sleep.
“Morning,” you softly say back.
He passes by you, leaning in to press a quick kiss to the top of your head before reaching up to the cabinet. It’s so natural, like it’s always been part of the routine. You don’t even hesitate to grab his mug as he takes it down, pouring coffee into it for him.
He glances at you, grin tugging at his lips. “Thanks.”
You nod toward the counter. “Want some oatmeal?”
He pauses mid-sip and grimaces. “I’m pretty sure I still have cereal left,” he says, already turning to rummage through your cabinet where he last put it.
Not long after, he finds the cereal box and pulls it out, opening the lid to peek inside. His brow furrows and slowly, he turns his head toward you. “Why is there barely anything left in my cereal?”
You lean against the counter, keeping your expression neutral, lifting your cup for another sip like you have no idea what he’s talking about.
His eyes narrow as he takes a step closer. And you can feel the way he’s looking at you, like he’s waiting for the crack to show.
You tell yourself to stay calm but it only lasts for two seconds and then your lips twitch. “I might’ve eaten it. Occasionally,” you admit, rather casually.
He scoffs, shaking his head as he closes the distance. “You’re still bad at lying.”
You grin, completely unbothered. “Oatmeal?” you offer again, just to annoy him.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he cups your face with both hands and then leans in, kissing you. The kiss is quick, but it lingers just enough to make a low gasp escaping you when he pulls aways.
He looks at you like he’s already decided something and says, “No, thank you. I’ll stick to my cereal.”
A few minutes later, you sit across from Hyunjin, one leg tucked under you, spoon lazily circling your oatmeal while he crunches through his cereal. But every now and then, he glances at you like he’s checking you’re still there.
You pretend not to notice. Instead, you reach for your phone resting beside your bowl, unlocking it and sliding it across the table toward him.
“Hey, we should probably do this now before we forget,” you begin.
He pauses mid-bite, spoon hovering in the air. “Do what?”
You tap the screen lightly, where the form is pulled up. “The couple test program review. They asked for it.”
He leans forward, squinting a little as he reads, then lets out a quiet ah of realization before leaning back in his chair. “Right. That thing.”
He shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, chews on it and then, he asks, “We’re filling it together?”
You raise a brow at him like it’s obvious. “We were in it together, weren’t we?”
That earns you a soft huff of a laugh. He nods, scooting his chair a little closer, elbow coming to rest on the table as he angles your phone toward both of you. “Okay, let’s see,” he says, suddenly a little more awake.
You take your mug, sipping your coffee as your eyes scan the first question. “How would you rate your overall experience?” you read aloud, then glance at him. “Be honest.”
He tilts his head, considering it for a brief moment like he’s weighing something heavier than the question itself. “Good. Not excellent.”
You narrow your eyes slightly. “Not excellent?”
His gaze flicks to you, slow, deliberate, the corner of his mouth tugging. “Well, we had… complications.”
You scoff under your breath, already tapping “Good” anyway. “You mean you couldn’t stay professional.”
“I stayed professional,” he counters, completely unbothered. “You’re the one who—”
You kick his foot lightly under the table. “Next.”
He laughs and lets you move on.
You go through the aspects together, taking your time with it. You read them out, and he answers, sometimes immediately, sometimes after a pause, sometimes after a quiet debate between the two of you that ends in a compromise and a shared glance that lingers just a second too long.
“Partner coordination,” you murmur, tapping the screen. “Four?”
“Four,” he agrees. Then, after a beat— “Could’ve been a five.”
You hum, pretending to think about it. “You complained a lot.”
“You liked it.”
You don’t answer that. Just press the rating and move on. And each time, your lips curl into a smile.
“Did the program have a positive impact on your relationship?” you ask, voice softer now. You don’t look at him right away like you did before. Your thumb hovers over the screen.
“Yeah,” he says before you can ask.
You glance up then, and he’s already looking at you. You nod once, almost to yourself, before tapping “Yes.”
Neither of you says anything for a second after that. Then you clear your throat, nudging the moment forward. “Favorite part?”
He leans back in his chair again, dragging his spoon lazily through the empty bowl now. “Working together,” he says, like it’s obvious. Then, after a beat, quieter— “Getting to see you like that.”
“Like what?”
“Focused and bossy,” he answers without a beat. A grin blooms on his small face as he adds, “A little scary.”
You roll your eyes, but your fingers hesitate over the screen before typing it in. The rest comes easier from there until you reach the last new question.
You tilt the phone slightly toward him. “Would you be interested in joining another couple test program in the future?”
He doesn’t even pretend to think about it. “Yes.”
You smile a little at how fast that was. “That was quick.”
He shrugs, but his eyes don’t leave you. “Depends on the condition.”
You raise a brow. “Oh?”
He leans in, raising his eyebrow as a flirty gesture. “For an instance, same partner.”
Your fingers still for a second over the screen and you try to fight it, but the smile tugging at your lips anyway. You nod as you tap the answer in, exactly like that. Then you set your phone down and reach for your coffee again.
He watches you over the rim of his mug, quiet for a moment. Then—
“So… we’re doing another one?”
You meet his eyes over the table, sunlight catching in them, in yours, in everything that’s changed without either of you saying it out loud. You tilt your head, a small smile pulling at your lips.
“Looks like it,” you say.
And maybe this time, it won’t feel like a test at all.
-
COUPLE TEST PROGRAM
PARTICIPANT REVIEW FORM
Participant 1 ID: P-260319
Participant 2 ID: P-260320
Program Duration: 30 Days
1. Overall Experience
How would you rate your overall experience?
☐ Excellent ☑ Good ☐ Average ☐ Poor
2. Program Aspects (Rate 1–10)
Product Quality & Variety: 9
Clarity of Testing Instructions: 9
Ease of Use (Products): 8
Reporting & Documentation Process: 8
Partner Coordination & Task Balance: 8
3. Relationship Impact
Did the program have a positive impact on your relationship?
☑ Yes ☐ No ☐ Unsure
If yes, how? (optional)
It encouraged consistent communication, cooperation, and adaptability. We became more aware of each other’s preferences, working styles, and boundaries through repeated interactions.
4. Highlights & Challenges
Favorite part of the program:
Testing products in a shared setting and comparing perspectives. The process felt interactive and allowed for genuine reactions and discussions.
Any challenges or concerns:
Maintaining objectivity while working closely as partners could be challenging at times. Differences in opinions occasionally affected the evaluation process.
5. Recommendation
Would you recommend this program to other couples?
☑ Yes ☐ No ☐ Maybe
6. Future Participation
Would you be interested in joining another couple test program in the future?
☑ Yes ☐ No ☐ Maybe
If yes, under what conditions? (optional)
Preferably with the same partner to maintain consistency in evaluation and communication.
7. Additional Feedback
The program is well-structured and effective for observing real-time partner dynamics. Slight improvements in reporting flexibility and clearer expectations for subjective evaluations would enhance the experience.
8. Final Comment
Thank you for the opportunity to participate in the Couple Test Program. The experience was insightful, engaging, and unexpectedly meaningful for both of us. Beyond product evaluation, the program encouraged stronger communication, teamwork, and understanding between partners in everyday situations.
We appreciate the effort put into creating realistic testing environments and activities that allowed authentic interactions and feedback. Overall, it was a valuable experience that we would gladly participate in again.
Submission Status: ✔ Successfully Submitted
-
✨ COCKY: BONUS CHAPTER is available exclusively on Patreon ✨
Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!
hi can we get 'just the tip' with any stray kids member?? thanksss love your works so much and congrats on 500 <3
just the tip!☆⋆｡°‧★
a/n: this was so good to write icl smth took over me and the devil screamed hyunjin at me so here ya gooo ^^
genre♡ smut, mdni
warnings♡ spoiler alert: it wasn't js the tip, unprotected sex, slight dubious consent, desperate horny hyunjin
his dorm isn't even fucking empty but hyunjin genuinely couldn't care less right now. changbin’s laughter is reverberating across the walls but all he can think about is the fact that you’re on his bed looking all stupidly soft and pretty whilst his cock throbs painfully in his sweats. one kiss was all it took before he completely melted into you completely, kissing you all sloppy and open mouthed. tongue dragging against yours as his hips grind desperately between your thighs for any sort of relief. its kinda pathetic how worked up he gets. one small movement from you and he's already panting into your mouth, hands sliding underneath your shirt to grope at your tits like it's his last dying wish.
“please,” he whines out, forehead knocking against yours. “just the tip baby. swear t’god i wont do anything else. just, need your pretty pussy so bad - fuck, please.”
i meaaaaannn you already know he's so full of shit. especially when before you even say anything he's already rucking up your skirt impatiently and tugs your flimsy panties to to the side with shaky hands. he doesn’t bother with undressing the both of you properly, freeing his cock out from his sweats just enough for it to spring out flushed red and leaking sticky precum all over his stomach. his breathing gets heavier at the sight of your sticky pussy. its drawing him in. like he genuinely loses all thought. he's sliding the tip in between your slick folds with a broken moan, smearing your juices all over his messy cock before nudging it against your entrance. “fuck,” his whole body shudders as he curses under his breath. the mushroom tip slipping past your tight cunt has him acting brainless. arms wrapping around you tightly as he buries his face into your neck, babbling endless fucked out thank you’s against your soft skin. and you know, like always, he tries his best to behave. only giving these tiny little thrusts as he savours your warm cunt smothering his tip. but then you clench around him like once and something inside him fucking snaps and that empty promise is long gone now.
a loud moan gets punched out of him as his hips jerked forward on instinct, shoving his thick cock inside fully in one thrust. you gasp in shock and pleasure as his cock reaches all the good spots inside you that gets your eyes blurry. he freezes for half a second afterwards like he can't fucking believed he did something ike this. “im sorry baby, fuck, i can't - your cunt keeps pulling me in.” meanwhile he's already dragging his cock back out only to slam it back in deeper, bullying your cunt open as you struggle to keep your body down, arching away or towards him you don't know it was all too much. the half-assed apologies keep spilling out of him but they mean nothing when he's fucking into you so deep, the fat cock drilling into you so good. “fuckkk, missed this pussy so bad.” he groans filthily, not caring about the way you sob around his cock as he grips your thighs tighter to hold you in place. so you see, all that ‘just the tip’ bs was out the window now that he's got your sweet cunt wrapped around his length all warm and wet just for him ♡
Synopsis: When you signed up for a paid product testing program, you expected free samples and money. What you didn’t expect was to be paired with Hwang Hyunjin and assigned to test a series of increasingly questionable sexual wellness products together. (18,7k words)
Author's note: In case you haven't heard, the next chapter will be the final one. Pls enjoy it while it lasts 😝❣️
The ballroom glows like it’s trying too hard. Gold light spills from chandeliers overhead, scattering across polished glass and sequins and silk, catching on every surface like it wants to convince you this is where you’re supposed to be.
You sit among it all, posture perfect, fingers lightly curled around the stem of your glass.
And you feel… nothing. Or maybe that’s not true.
Because beneath the surface, your mind isn’t here. It’s back there. Back in the house, back where Hyunjin had you pressed against the wall. You can still feel the way his hand braced beside your head, the way his voice dropped, rougher than you’ve ever heard it before.
“I’d love you better.”
The memory hits like it’s happening all over again. It sinks into your chest, settles somewhere it shouldn’t, and suddenly breathing feels off. Like your lungs don’t quite know how to properly breathe. You swallow, forcing your expression to remain neutral as someone across from you laughs at something you didn’t hear.
You should be fine. You are fine. Whatever this is, it’s not supposed to get to you like this. Hyunjin says things. He’s always said things. Confident, careless, a little too sure of himself. It’s part of him. You know that.
So why did that feel different?
Your chest tightens because it almost feels like— No. You shake the thought off immediately, lifting your glass to your lips just to have something to do. The drink tastes smooth and expensive. Completely wasted on you right now. Because your mind keeps circling back not just to what Hyunjin said, but how he looked when he said it. That’s the part that won’t leave you alone.
Hyunjin doesn’t do serious. Not like that. Not with you. So why does it feel like he crossed a line neither of you acknowledged was even there?
You shift in your seat, the fabric of your outfit pulling slightly as you adjust, suddenly too aware of yourself, of your body, of the ghost of where Hyunjin’s hand had been.
It’s ridiculous. You’re at a gala. Surrounded by people who matter, conversations that matter, a night that’s supposed to matter. And yet, all you can think about is Hyunjin. About the way your name sounded in his low, hopeless voice. About the way your heart reacted to it. The confusion would be manageable on its own. But this? This strange, quiet ache sitting in your chest… It feels like hurt and you don’t understand why.
Then, a hand settles over yours followed by a soft call of your name and the reality rushes back in, reminding you of where you actually are when your head was drifting elsewhere.
“Hey,” Seungmin says, quiet enough that it doesn’t carry past the table. “You okay?”
You look at his hand and then at him. And for a second, you consider telling the truth. That your chest feels off. That your thoughts are tangled somewhere they shouldn’t be. That a single sentence from someone who isn’t supposed to matter like that has been looping in your head all night like a glitch you can’t fix.
But you remind yourself why you’re here in the first place, a commitment you can’t just walk away from. So you gather yourself instead with a quiet inhale of air to reset your mind.
“I’m okay,” you easily say with a faint smile.
Your fingers shift under his, subtle enough not to draw attention as you straighten in your seat, posture aligning, expression settling into something composed.
Seungmin watches you for half a brief moment and decides not to push. Maybe not in public. Instead, his thumb brushes against the back of your hand before his attention shifts to somewhere three tables away from yours.
You follow his gaze and there, three tables away from yours, is James Luck. Even from a distance, he stands out, effortlessly, because people around him seem to orbit without realizing it. You remember him differently because the version you first met years ago was less polished, less certain, when everything still felt like a gamble rather than a guarantee. He had been ambitious then with his start-up company, hungry in a way that was almost visible. Now? Now he looks like someone who’s already won. Billions does that to a person.
This. This is why you’re here. It’s him. A reconnection. A foot in the door. A conversation that, if handled right, might turn into something much bigger. A business deal.
That’s the objective number one. It always has been. That’s why you agreed when Seungmin called you to his office, talked about this gala and used the chance to talk to James Luck because apparently, it’s almost impossible to even have five minutes with him. You agreed to it because it’s work and not personal.
Also, your favorite author is in attendance and is somewhere in this room. You told yourself you’d find her later. That you’d say something about her book, about the part that resonates with you. That you’d let yourself have that moment. And that is the objective number two.
Seungmin’s hand tightens slightly around yours, reminding you that the objective number one comes first. You meet his eyes briefly and there’s no need for words. You know that it’s time.
“Ready?” he asks, already halfway there.
You give him a subtle nod in respond.
He stands first, still holding your hand as he does, guiding you up with him in one smooth motion. He waits as you fix the hem of your dress before finally slip into step beside him easily, your hand still in his, your expression composed, your mind… Still not entirely here. But it doesn’t matter. Because you know how to perform even when you’re fractured.
Step by step, the distance between your table and James Luck’s closes and by the time you reach the table, your smile is already in place—polished, effortless, convincing enough to fool anyone who doesn’t know you well enough to look closer.
“James,” Seungmin greets, voice smooth and confident. “Pleased to meet you here!”
James looks confused as he looks at Seungmin but Seungmin handles it well, he offers his hand and introduces himself. Then he turns to you, placing his hand on the small of your back as he gestures you to take a small step forward as he introduces you next.
You don’t expect him to recognize you right away, but you put on your brightest smile as you introduce yourself. “I’m not sure if you remember me but I was a part of the team handling your launch event two years ago,” you say with just the right amount of modesty and politeness.
The recognition hits as James’s face brightens and starts nodding repeatedly. “Oh, yes, I remember you. You were the assistant to the project manager, right?”
This. This is what you don’t expect to hear from someone like him. “That’s right,” you say, completely pleased.
And just like that, the conversation flows, casual at first and then it turns into something measured, intentional, layered with meaning beneath the surface. Seungmin is good at this and always has been. Calm, articulate, never pushing too hard but never losing direction either.
You catch only pieces of it and only step in when needed. You talk about the events you’ve handled with an easy, confident voice. You don’t oversell because you don’t need to.
And somewhere in the middle of it, Seungmin places his hand on the small of your back again and lightly says, “She’s being modest. She’s handled some of the biggest launches we’ve had. She doesn’t miss.”
Hearing that, James’s attention settles more fully on you now. You don’t wave. Instead, you return it with a polite smile, offering just enough detail to support the image Seungmin’s building. Not too much or too eager.
By the time Seungmin casually threads the idea into the conversation—“we should sit down properly sometime, explore this further”—it doesn’t feel like a pitch. It feels like the next logical step.
James pauses, thoughtfully considering it and then, he nods, genuine interest flickering across his expression. “I’d like that,” he says.
Objective one: secured.
The business slowly melts into something lighter now, something more casual and you play along. You smile. You respond. You exist exactly how you’re expected to. But after a while, you take the first opening you get.
“Excuse me,” you say softly, already rising before either of them can question it. “I’ll be right back.”
Neither stops you and you slip away easily, the noise of the ballroom fading slightly with each step until the restroom door closes behind you with a soft click. You place your purse on the sink, turn the faucet on and put your hands under it, letting the cool water run over your wrists. You breathe in and out. In and out.
One of the stall doors creaking open and from your peripheral, you see someone stepping out of it, catching the dark of her dress. And then—
“Do you, by any chance, have ibuprofen?”
The voice comes from behind you before the figure settles beside you against the sink. You glance up instinctively and you pause because you know her.
Another unexpected thing has just happened tonight because Jane Woods is standing next to you with one hand pressed lightly against her lower abdomen, the other rummaging through her purse. She doesn’t recognize you as she talks while glancing at you through the mirror.
“Of all days, I forgot to bring my pillbox and this period cramp is killing me.”
“I… uh—” you start, still processing. Hand gropes around the sink for your purse. “I don’t have ibuprofen, but I have aspirin?”
“That works. I’ll take anything at this point,” she says, still not recognizing you.
You nod, reaching into your purse, pulling out the small strip and handing it to her.
She takes it with a grateful smile, already twisting open a small bottle of water. “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver—”
You watch as she takes the aspirin and gasps after taking another sip of water. Hesitantly, you ask, “Do you… remember me?”
Jane looks at you, puzzled. She’s clearly too embarrassed to say no, afraid of making this awkward.
“I handled the launch event for your aphrodisiac pills,” you say.
She gets quiet now, eyes narrowed just slightly like it would help her to look at you better and recalls your face from her memories.
“I—uh… you approached me that night,” you continue, trying to piece it together for her. “About the test program?”
Her eyes widen as the recognition slowly settles in and then fully. “Oh! The girl with the adorable scowl.”
This time, you’re the puzzled one. “The what?”
“That’s what he said,” she explains vaguely, gesturing toward your face.
You stare at her, unsure if you should feel called out or offended. “Okay.”
“But I remembered you,” she assures you with a grin, taking out a compact powder from her purse and exhaling like the medicine is already working. Then her head tilts slightly. “So—how’s it been?”
“The test program?”
She nods.
“Actually, it just finished.”
“Oh?” she hums, looking into the small mirror in the compact powder, fixing the corner of her eyeliner with the end of her long nail.
You hesitate to say because it already happened and you no longer hold grudges over it. But you feel the need to address it. “You didn’t say that the program was for couples.”
She doesn’t look surprised and instead, she lightly says, “I didn’t?”
“No.”
“Hm.”
She leans back just enough to inspect her makeup. Then meets your eyes through the mirror. “Well, to be fair. I didn’t approach you first.”
You frown. “What?”
She closes her compact powder, setting it down neatly. “I approached him.”
You hesitate to ask. “…Who?”
“The pretty guy,” she clarifies, like it’s obvious. “Your partner.”
Hyunjin. You go still when the pieces start to come together.
“When I asked if he could recommend someone,” she continues casually, like she’s recounting something insignificant, “he told me to approach you.”
Your fingers curl around your purse. “He… what?”
Jane glances at you again, finally picking up on the shift in your expression. “He told you’d be there at the launch event. Told me to look for the girl with the adorable scowl.”
You swallow air because all of a sudden, your throat tightens just a little. Because that means, it wasn’t a coincidence. It wasn’t accidental. He asked for you, chose you from the start and knew all along.
Jane, completely unaware of the way that information settles into you, just moves on, picking up her purse again like the moment didn’t just shift something inside your chest.
“Anyway—thank you for the aspirin. I think I can survive the rest of the night now.”
You can only nod in respond because you’re still… a little elsewhere.
Jane puts the strap of her purse on her shoulder and offers you a smile. “I hope things are going well with you two,” she says with genuine kindness.
You nod again, because that’s what you’re hoping for but not what’s really happening right now.
“Yeah.”
That’s the only thing you can manage to say. Not quite an answer. Not a denial either.
Her smile softens and she hoists the strap higher on her shoulder. “Take care,” she adds, already heading for the door.
Then, she’s gone, leaving you there standing in front of the mirror and staring at yourself. But this time, seeing something different. Because now you know that Hyunjin chose you and you didn’t choose him back.
-
The ballroom greets you like nothing ever shifted. But in your heart, something did.
You quietly make your way through the crowded ballroom, eyes moving toward James’s table, but you don’t see either James or Seungmin. You stop walking but your gaze continues searching until you spot Seungmin back at your table instead. You move toward him and your steps slow when you notice someone is sitting in your seat. A girl. No— a woman.
You consider to turn away and come back to the table later, but Seungmin notices you before you can act on it.
“Hey,” he says as you approach, rising slightly. “Perfect timing.”
By the time you make it to your table, your gaze shifts back to her and pause when you realize it’s not just some woman taking your seat, it’s your favorite author. The objective number two is here.
Seungmin glances between the two of you, clearly pleased. “I told her that you’re a big fan of her book so I invited her to join our table.”
You have everything prepared in your head beforehand. The book, compliments, parts that resonate with you — they seem to have all vanished from your head as you awkwardly stand there, tongue-tied.
“I—yeah,” you manage to say after a minute, a smile breaking through before you can stop it. “I really am.”
The author smiles back at you, inviting you to sit so the two of you can talk. And Seungmin hurriedly and kindly gets up, moving to the chair next to him so you can have his seat.
“Go ahead,” he says, nodding toward it. “I’ll let you two talk.”
You hesitate for the briefest second before finally take a seat next to your favorite author and the two of you get into it right away. You tell her everything you’ve been meaning to convey and try not to stutter, or sounding nervous and ignore it whenever it shows. And Seungmin stays beside you, letting the moment belong to you without stepping away completely.
It’s perfect. Or it should be. Because somewhere, in a different version of this night, this is exactly how it would’ve gone. Seungmin beside you, hand on the small of your back, talking great things about you in such loving. But sadly, that’s not the reality you’re living in because two years of absence that doesn’t just disappear because the moment lines up nicely. Especially not after someone else came, chose you and promised you that he’d love you better.
-
Lights stretch into long, blurred lines against the window as the car moves, gold and white, a speck of red smearing together like something half-remembered. You slightly lean your head against the glass, cool against your temple, watching it all pass without really seeing it.
Tonight sits heavy in your chest, layered and complicated in a way that doesn’t sort itself out no matter how much you try to make sense of it. It was great. Objectively, undeniably great.
Tonight, two objectives have been successfully achieved. And another thing has been gained into your knowledge.
But first, let’s asses the man sitting next to you and how out of everything, out of all the details he carries, all the things that fill his days, Seungmin remembered something as small as the author you once mentioned liking. He didn’t make a show of it, didn’t bring it up beforehand and just… made it happen.
You finally glance at him then, just briefly and catch the way the soft glow of passing streetlights cuts across his face in intervals. His expression is calm and composed in that familiar way.
There’s something in the way he makes you feel tonight, something dangerously close to how it used to be. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? It almost feels the same. Almost, but not quite.
Then, there’s Hyunjin and it’s ridiculous how easily he slips into your thoughts now, how quickly everything circles back to him no matter where you are, who you’re with. Of course, you remember the annoying grin, the witty remarks, the way confidence oozes out of him when he walks into sight. But now, the first thing that comes to your mind are these words:
“I’d love you better.”
The words settle deeper the more you replay it in the back of your head. Because you remember exactly what you said back.
“I’m sorry.”
You shift slightly in your seat because recalling it unsettles you not just emotionally, but also physically.
Why did you say that?Because it was the right thing to say.Because it is the truth.
Because whatever Hyunjin thinks this is, you can’t give that back. And yet, your chest aches in a way that doesn’t line up with that logic at all.
Tonight was great. It really was. And somehow, it wasn’t.
Because Seungmin still knows you in ways that feel too familiar.
Because Hyunjin said something that felt too real.
Because you answered in a way that should’ve ended it, but didn’t.
It all sits there, layered deep in your chest, pressing inward from all sides.
-
The cool night air greets you as you step out of the car and you wrap your arms loosely around yourself, heels clicking faintly against the pavement as he falls into step beside you, walking together toward your house. It’s a short walk but every step feels like something inching closer to the surface, something you’ve been holding down all night. By the time you reach your door, it’s right there, waiting at the tip of your tongue.
You turn to face him, your voice steady and polite as you say, “Thank you for tonight.”
Seungmin’s eyes are on you as he smiles a soft smile. “I should be the one thanking you.”
You nod. A small, contained movement. No room for misinterpretation. And you decide it then that maybe this is how you should end the night. With everything stays contained and unconfronted.
You almost take it as you look at him and say, “Goodnight.”
You turn on your feet, but his hand finds your arm before you can take a step, enough to stop you.
“Wait.”
You don’t want to and that’s the first clear thought that cuts through everything else. You don’t want to turn back, but somehow, you do.
Seungmin steps closer, the space between you closing too easily. His hand slides from your arm to your waist, resting there like it belongs there. Your body stills, caught in the suddenness and the familiarity of it.
His gaze drops to yours as he quietly says, “Tonight felt special to me.”
It feels wrong to hear it, but you let him continue talking.
“Everything about it just reminded me of how… right this feels. You, next to me. Like you fit there.”
You swallow air because you felt the same, once and for the briefest of moment.
“Like nothing’s really changed,” he adds.
Something in you disagrees with him but before you can say anything to it, he leans in. There’s no hesitation in him, not even the slightest of doubt as he presses a kiss to your lips. And for a second, you close your eyes and let him, because your body remembers before your mind catches up. The shape of it. The feeling. The history. It’s all still there, sitting just beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this to resurface. But that’s all it is. Memory.
As soon as he realizes that you’re not kissing him back, his lips pause and then slowly, pulls away. He looks at you, dark brown eyes staring into yours and you can see the moment the realization settling into him, piece by piece, that something is off. That you’re not who he thought you were. That you didn’t want the same thing you wanted two years ago. That you’re not his anymore. Or anyone’s for that matter.
A small, humorless laugh slips out of you without you intending to. You shake your head, gaze dropping for a second before lifting back to him.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” you continue, exhaling softly. “I thought maybe there was a… nicer way to put it.”
Another small shake of your head. “But I can’t find it.”
You inhale air as you steady yourself, gathering everything that’s been building all night. Then you let it out. “All of this—tonight—it’s nothing personal. I agreed to it because it’s work. Because I wanted to help you. Help the company.”
A bitter edge creeps in as you let out another quiet, humorless laugh. “But I’m curious to know what exactly made you think you could just… walk back into my life like this?”
His expression shifts, lips parting open but nothing comes out of it. Caught off guard.
“What made you think I’d still be here? Waiting for you? Loving you the same way after everything you did?”
You don’t stop, instead, you stare deeply and intensely into his eyes. “You broke me. You hurt me in ways I didn’t even know I could be hurt. You made me feel like I’d never be okay again.”
You swallow, jaw tightening slightly before the last piece falls into place. “It’s great if you think this is personal because then I’ll use this moment to make it clear.”
You lift a hand, finger pointing at you and then at him. “You and me? It’s over.”
You see the surprise on his face. The disconnect between what he expected and what he’s getting instead.
“I’m ending this and I’d appreciate it if you just… leave me alone from now on.”
You don’t wait, don’t give him the chance to respond because you know him. You know what that smart mouth can do, how he talks his way in, how smoothly he can shift things, reframe them, pull you back into something you already fought your way out of.
This time, you turn and push the door open. You step inside and turn just enough to look at him just to say, “Goodbye, Seungmin.”
And with that, you close the door on him, on your past and the pain it carries.
-
For only God knows how long, you’ve been sitting there in the dining table, hands resting loosely on the wooden surface, eyes closed. Your lips press together, like you can hold it back if you try hard enough, like you’ve done every other time.
But tonight, there’s too much. It spills in the form of a quiet, broken sound that slips past your lips. Your hand lifts instinctively to your mouth, like you can muffle it, contain it but all it takes is a breath and you break all over again. You fold forward slightly, elbows pressing into the table as your face drops into your hands, shoulders trembling as the first real sob breaks free.
It’s everything you didn’t let yourself feel before. This is everything underneath the calm, controlled façade you put on day after day since the day he left. This is everything you swallowed down night after night, every piece of hurt that never really left and festering in places you stopped checking.
The heels of your palms pressing into your eyes as another sob tears through your chest and it hurts. God, it hurts. Your crying fills the space around you, echoing softly against the walls, the empty house holding every sound, giving it nowhere to go.
You don’t try to stop it because it wasn’t just the breakup or what he did. It was everything that came after. The doubt. The fear that maybe you wouldn’t come back from it fully. That maybe something in you had been altered in a way that wouldn’t fix itself. That maybe that version of you, the one he left behind, would permanently resides in you.
But somewhere between the pain and the release, you feel relief of knowing that this finally ended and feel assured now that you’re not her anymore.
You lift your head slightly, hands sliding down your face, dragging away tears that keep coming anyway. It feels less suffocating and more… open. Like something that’s been locked for too long finally gave way.
“I’m okay,” you whisper into the silence that surrounds you.
You’re not completely healed. But okay. More than okay. And for the first time in a long time, you feel free.
-
Your eyes feel heavy when you wake up the next morning. You bring a hand to your face, pressing lightly under your eyes and yes, as expected, they’re swollen from all the crying you did last night. A small exhale leaves you, but it’s not frustration, or regret. Because underneath it all, you feel good. Good in a way that you no longer feel that tight, suffocating weight in your chest.
You swing your legs over the side of the bed, sitting on the edge and stretching your arms in the air and then, you smile. A soft smile that marked a new beginning. Then you stand, moving through your morning routine slower but steadier.
After bathroom, you head downstairs and go straight for the kitchen. Coffee first as always. You turn on the machine and reaching for the top cabinet to take out a mug. You pause for a millisecond when you notice Hyunjin’s mug, it’s still there, untouched for how many days already. Out of curiosity, you open the next cabinet and his cereal is still sitting exactly where it always has.
You take a step back and juts stare at it, because that means, he didn’t come to collect his things. He came for you. He chose you again and again.
You reach for the cereal box almost absentmindedly as memories from last night push their way forward—what you said, how you said it, the way you shut the door without looking back. And the truth you learned later that night.
You hesitate for a second before taking it. You pour yourself a bowl and put in milk after, bring it with you to the dining table. You take a spoonful and smile at the sweetness that floods your mouth, a taste that stupidly comforting.
Your gaze drifts across the table and lands on your purse, right where you left it. Because at some point last night, after everything, after the crying and the breaking and the quiet that followed—you must’ve dragged yourself upstairs without thinking, too exhausted to care about anything else. You barely remember anything except the way you collapsed onto the bed and passed out completely after.
You set your spoon down, reaching for your purse, pulling it closer before slipping your phone out. You first instinct is to contact Hyunjin, you think of sending him a text, asking him to meet, giving you a chance to explain. Because last night feels unresolved. Not in a way that lets you just move on without looking back. There’s more there.
You unlock your phone, already halfway into forming the message in your head when a notification cuts through your thoughts. It’s an email from the pharmacy company.
Your brows knit slightly as you tap it open, fingers moving fast in curiosity and your eyes widen as you read, the words sinking in slower than they should. You read it again because the first time, your brain hardly catching up to what you’re reading with your mouth.
The next thing you know, you shoot up from your seat, so hard, so fast that your body knocking the edge of the table and the milk in your cereal sloshing out of the bowl.
“Oh my god?!!” you lowly gasp before it turns into a full shriek that echoes through the house.
Your hands fly to your mouth, your heart racing now for an entirely different reason as the realization settles fully into place. You won. You won the free vacation. The one you didn’t even care about whether you got it or not. And yet, you’re this happy to know you’ve won?
You laugh and shake your head in disbelief. You drop back into your seat, phone still in hand, scrolling through the details now just to be sure. And it’s real.
Your mind starts moving again because this isn’t just a free vacation, a trip. This is exactly what you need, a chance to fix things between you and Hyunjin.
-
The sound of your footsteps echoes too loudly against the polished airport floor as you run and weave through people, your suitcase rattling behind you like it’s protesting every second of this chaos. Your bag keeps slipping down your arm, your grip tightening around the strap, adjusting and not stopping. You can’t miss this flight. Not this one. Not when everything in you feels like it’s riding on it.
The hallway stretches longer than it should, the final turn coming into view and thank God, the gate is still open.
Relief hits you so fast it almost makes you stumble. You wave your hands in the air as you mutter, “I’m here—I’m so sorry—”
Your voice comes out breathless as you reach the desk, trying to steady yourself, pushing your hair back from your face as the flight attendant looks up.
She doesn’t scold you, doesn’t even look annoyed. Instead, she offers a small, understanding smile. “Just in time,” she says gently.
You let out a shaky laugh, nodding quickly as you hand over your boarding pass, gratitude spilling through every hurried movement. “Thank you—really, thank you.”
She waves it off lightly, already stepping out from behind the counter. “Let me help you.”
Your legs feel wobbly as she takes your suitcase, guiding you down the jet bridge and into the plane.
“Right this way.”
You follow her, still catching your breath, your pulse gradually slowing as you move further inside, toward the front. First class.
Your steps stutter for a second when you see him, Hyunjin. He’s already there, obviously. He’s sitting with his long legs stretched out comfortably in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other. Headphones rest over his ears, and his hat is pulled low, almost covering his eyes completely like he doesn’t want to be seen. Or doesn’t want to see.
“Thank you,” you murmur quickly to the flight attendant as she helps with your suitcase, your voice steadier now, but your heart? Not even close.
She gives you one last polite smile before stepping away, leaving you standing there for a brief second too long.
You don’t know if he’s noticed that you’re here. If he’s awake. If he’s pretending. You swallow, shifting your bag onto the seat before lowering yourself into it, slowly and quietly, like if you move too suddenly, you might disrupt something fragile in the air between you.
You sit, back straight at first, hands resting in your lap like you’re bracing for something that hasn’t happened yet. You glance at him and there’s no reaction, nothing. But you notice the way his chest rises and falls steadily beneath his jacket.
Hyunjin is sleeping. Maybe. You want that to be true. God, you want that to be true. Because it’s better than he knows you’re here and choosing not to acknowledge it. But even if that the case, you must accept the fact that he has every right to be angry.
That night, you didn’t just reject him. You shut him out and left him standing there with no chance to say anything back. The memory unsettles you now that he’s right beside you.
Don’t spiral. You tell yourself. You can work with this. You don’t need everything to be fixed right now. You don’t need him to look at you, to talk to you, to forgive you immediately. You just need time and now, you have it.
-
“Miss?” The flight attendant’s voice cuts through the line you quietly read to yourself, well, you barely read anything as your mind is busy thinking of ways to interact with Hyunjin when he wakes up from his sleep.
The flight attendant politely smiles as she hands you the menu. “May I take your meal preference?”
“Oh—” You straighten slightly, reaching for the menu you barely looked at. “Um…”
She nods toward the seat beside you. Her hand moves, like she’s about to gently wake Hyunjin.
“No—wait.” The word slips out quicker than you intend. You glance at him, then back at her, offering a small, apologetic smile. “I’ll do it. I’ll… wake him.”
“Of course,” she says with a smile before standing up straighter and moves on to the next passenger.
You turn your head to the side, finding him still asleep with his hat still tilted low but his headphones slightly askew now. You almost don’t want to wake him because he looks so peaceful, so still and—
Hyunjin shifts, one shoulder lifts higher than the other before it drops as he exhales air through his nostrils, his head tilting up, just enough for the light to hit his eyes.
You look down immediately, flipping open the menu like you didn’t just watching him sleep. You hear the faint rustle as he stretches, arms lifting, legs shifting and the big, long exhale that follows. The headphones come off first and the hat next. You glance up and your eyes meet almost immediately.
For a second, he just looks at you, eyes fluttering like his brain hasn’t quite caught up yet. But more than that, he looks confused like he didn’t expect to see you here. And maybe he does.
You smile anyway and softly murmur, “Hey, you woke up just in time for the meals.”
He doesn’t respond but stares at you for a second longer, like he’s trying to place you here—next to him, in this space, in this moment. Then he blinks again, dragging a hand through his hair, pushing it back messily before pulling his jacket off.
“What?” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you.
You bite back a smile at the sight of this clueless, disoriented Hyunjin.
He leans back into his seat, still adjusting, still waking up properly.
That’s when you lean slightly toward him, holding the menu up between you. “Salmon or beef?” you ask.
He looks at you again with eyes dazed and soft and God, you have to hold in the urge to smile. Because the way he rubs his eyes with his knuckles like he’s still halfway between asleep and awake — it’s too adorable.
He eventually sighs. His voice rough with sleep as he says, “Beef.”
You nod at that. “Okay.”
A while later, he unbuckles his belt, muttering something about the restroom before standing and walking off. By the time he comes back, he looks more awake now, more present. His posture straighter, his gaze clearer as he settles back into his seat.
You glance at him and say, “The food should be here soon.”
He doesn’t answer but runs his fingers through his hair again, pushing it back, smoothing it out like he’s trying to reset himself.
You don’t let the silence stretches too long so you smile and say, “It’s impressive that you can sleep through take-off.”
“I didn’t sleep much last night,” he simply and honestly shares.
It’s funny that you used to wish that he isn’t annoying like this, but now, you wish for the opposite. “Too excited for the trip, huh?” you tease gently.
Go ahead, annoy me. You scream inside your head, but the words just hang there between you before they fade into silence.
Thankfully, the flight attendant arrives just then, placing the trays down in front of you, breaking the moment before it stretches too far.
You thank her quietly, focusing on the food in front of you instead and for the next few minutes, it’s just the quiet clink of cutlery, the low hum of the plane, the distance that widen and widen the longer you let it.
Without thinking, you reach over and steal the piece of steak he just cut, hurriedly shoving it into your mouth.
“Hey—” he says, brows furrowing.
But you’re already chewing, pretending innocence.
He reaches toward your tray in retaliation, hand hovering over your bread.
“No,” you stop him, swatting lightly at his hand. “Don’t even think about it.”
He huffs and you smirk. And you end up placing your bread on his plate like a peace offering.
For the rest of the meal, it’s easier. The two of you chat about the flight, how you nearly missed it and him talking about how he thought he forgot his passport. You laugh and he does too. And for a moment, it feels like everything is okay again.
By the time the trays are cleared and the tables folded away, the space between you isn’t as heavy as it was before. You glance at him and then at the screen in front of you.
“Hey, they have that movie. The one we were watching that night and didn’t finish watching,” you pause to make sure his attention is still on you. “Want to watch it together?”
He looks at you and you think he’s going to say yes, you can see it from the hesitation, the flicker of something that almost leans toward you. But then, he leans back and sinks into his seat instead.
“Actually, I’m going to sleep more,” he says.
Despite his rejection, your smile stays intact and you manage a nod. “Okay.”
And that’s how you know for sure that he’s still upset, still holding onto what happened, still not ready to just fall back into this like nothing changed. That’s more than fair.
You lean back into your own seat, your fingers tap lightly against the armrest as you settle on something random to watch, deciding not to worry. Because you know this isn’t the end of the conversation.
-
It’s a honeymoon suite. They assigned you and Hyunjin into a honeymoon suite. And there’s nothing wrong about it, considering that the test program was meant for couples thus make the prize also meant for a couple.
You and Hyunjin step in at the same time, your footsteps slowing instinctively as your eyes take in the room. It’s… big.
A living space stretches out in front of you, a low table placed neatly between a plush sofa and armchairs and then, almost immediately, you notice the flowers, carefully arranged and placed beautifully in a glass vase, sitting right at the center like it’s meant to be seen first. Next to it, there’s a plate of dessert which you assume is a welcome gift from the hotel and on it, written in chocolate sauce: Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Hwang!
You press your lips together, trying not to smile too much at the ridiculousness of it, but the amusement lingers anyway as you take a few more steps in. You part open the two sliding doors, revealing the bedroom and as expected, flower petals arranged neatly into a heart shape right at the center of the bed like something straight out of a cliché you never thought you’d actually walk into.
Your cheeks warm immediately, stepping back like you’ve seen something you weren’t supposed to. You don’t even look at Hyunjin and just continue moving, exploring the space. Because if you linger there for too long, you’re going to start thinking about it and that’s dangerous territory.
The room opens up toward the balcony, and when you slide the glass door open, the ocean greets you again, it’s dark to see but it’s there, the sound of the waves carries up faintly, carrying the heat and the salt in the air and you take a second to just breathe it in, take another second to take in the view next and your cheeks warm again at the sight of the hot tub. You almost can’t believe that there’s a hot tub on the balcony but once you remember it’s a honeymoon suite, it makes sense.
You step back inside and slowly close the glass door like you’re concealing a secret. You decide to return to the sofa, dropping your bag beside you and planning to take a better look at the welcome gifts.
You lean forward, immediately reaching for the box you didn’t pay attention to earlier. A card sits on top and you pick it up, reading the handwritten words on it. It’s a welcome message from the pharmacy company, wishing you a pleasant stay, hoping you enjoy the experience.
“…with it, we would like to spoil you one more time with our Lover’s toolbox, curated to spice up your summer time…”
Your brows lift slightly as you slide it closer, curiosity sparking immediately. You glance around and find Hyunjin busy dragging his things to the bedroom before turning your attention back to the box. Then slowly, you lift the lid and—
Oh. Your eyes widen at the selection of products they put into this. You get it then why it’s called Lover’s toolbox because— You don’t even get to finish the thought because suddenly, Hyunjin drops down beside you and immediately reaches for the dessert plate sitting nearby.
“Wait—” you stop him a little too late.
Hyunjin is already scooping up a big piece with the fork, completely ignoring the delicate welcome message written in chocolate sauce across the plate.
“I haven’t taken photos of…” your words trail off as he takes a bite anyway.
He shrugs, chewing like it’s not a big deal.
You grab the fork straight from his and take a big piece for yourself, you don’t wait to shove it into your mouth. You triumphantly grin as you chew.
He scoffs, reaching to take the fork back immediately. “Oh, it’s like that?” he mutters.
“Oh, it’s absolutely like that.”
You don’t even wait but reach forward, snatch the cherry from the top and pop it into your mouth.
His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously?”
You just chew, smiling smugly.
He retaliates immediately, shoving another exaggerated bite into his mouth like he’s proving a point.
You break into laughter and then lean back into the sofa, letting out a soft sigh. “Do you want to grab dinner?” you ask, turning your head toward him.
“Room service?” he asks back, still chewing.
You sit up slightly, folding a leg under you. “No. Let’s go out.”
He glances at you. “Why?”
You gesture vaguely toward the balcony. “Because—there’s the sea. And it’s nice out there.”
“You can see the sea from here,” he says plainly.
“That’s not the same.”
“It’s dark. You won’t see much,” he counters.
You cross your arms together. “We’ve been sitting the whole six hours of flight.”
“Yeah. And we’re tired from that flight.”
You pout and he just stares at you, none of you backing down.
“Room service,” he firmly says.
You fully, blatantly pout.
“You can do whatever you want,” he adds, done arguing as he leans back on the sofa.
You grab his arm and whine, “I’m hungry.”
He sighs and shifts slightly, glancing toward the balcony before looking back at you. “We’ll get room service and eat it on the balcony. How about that?”
You consider it for exactly two second and your expression softens immediately as you cave in, nodding repeatedly.
When the dinner arrives, the two of you barely wait for everything to be set properly before you’re already reaching for your food, settling into the chair on the balcony as the night air wraps around you.
The view, the atmosphere, the soft glow of lights from the shoreline— it’s nice. But you don’t pay any attention to any of it because you’re too hungry. And apparently, so is Hyunjin.
For a while, neither of you speaks. The two of you are too busy stuffing food into your mouth like the food might disappear if you don’t keep up.
You steal a glance at him mid-bite and immediately laugh at the sight of ketchup smudged at the corner of his mouth. “You got ketchup all over you,” you say, pointing.
He frowns slightly. “What?”
“You’re eating like a hungry goblin.”
He scoffs, barely even pausing as he chews. “You’re not any better.”
Instead of replying back, you reach for a napkin and lean in, gently wiping the mess around his mouth. Once you’re done, you pull back slightly, meeting his eyes and for a second, he just looks at you.
“Thanks,” he mutters.
“You’re very welcome,” you say, getting back to your own food.
As you eat, you keep watching him as he takes another bite of his burger, bigger this time that his eyes squeeze shut as he tries to fit it in, chewing immediately like he’s committed to it now, consequences be damned.
You let out a soft, amused sound. It’s ridiculous and somehow, endearing. You lean in again without thinking, napkin still in hand, catching the edge of ketchup that didn’t survive round two.
“You eat so well,” you coo lightly, unable to hide the warmth in your voice.
He doesn’t respond but keeps chewing, slower and quieter now as the night air drifts between you, the sound of the ocean filling the spaces where words aren’t needed. And for a moment, it’s simple. It’s just you and him in this quiet that doesn’t ask for anything more.
You lean back slightly in your chair, finally slowing down now that the initial hunger has settled, your gaze drifting lazily around the balcony, tucked just at the corner is the hot tub.
You turn back to him, a small grin forming as you point at the hot tub and say, “We should try it.”
All of a sudden, Hyunjin chokes on his food. A sharp cough bursts out of him as he hits his chest lightly, eyes widening in surprise as he struggles to swallow what he just tried to inhale instead.
“Hey—hey—” you lean forward quickly, grabbing his glass and refilling it with water. “Slow down.”
You push the glass toward it and he takes it without argument, still coughing lightly as he brings it to his lips, taking a few quick sips. You watch him, the concern fading almost immediately into amusement.
“I mean, we don’t have to jump in right now,” you lightly tease with a smile. “I’m just saying—we could.”
He keeps drinking but you notice the way his ears reddening. You lean back again, crossing one leg over the other, watching him over the rim of your glass and enjoying this just a little too much.
You know he’s still mad and he won’t forgive you easily. But he’s softening just a little, he got flustered. You’re getting there.
-
“I’m done,” you announce the second you walked out of the bathroom while lathering lotion to your hands.
Hyunjin is by the bed. His suitcase lies open, clothes already half-unpacked in that careless but efficient way of his. He’s crouched slightly, pulling out a toiletry bag, barely glancing up when you walk over and drop onto the bed instead, the mattress dipping under your weight.
God. It’s soft. You stretch out on your stomach, arms folded under your chin as you let your head hang just slightly off the edge, peeking down toward his suitcase.
“Hey, can you hurry in the bathroom? We have something to discuss,” you say.
He zips up the toiletry bag and stands, turning toward you. “I’ll use the bathroom as long as I please.”
Your brows knit immediately and pout. “I’ll wait anyway.”
But he’s already turning away, walking past you and disappearing into the bathroom without another word.
You stare at it for a second, lips jutting out more. “Rude.”
You huff and sit up on the bed, deciding to collect the flower petals in your hands and then toss the whole thing into the trash bin. You keep the one whole flower to yourself, tucking it in your ear before scooting further up the bed, settling against the pillows this time.
Since Hyunjin will be in the bathroom for only God knows how long. You decide to do something as you wait. You take your phone from the nightstand and start browsing the internet, searching through places to visit, things to do, recommendations, reviews. The list grows so you quickly narrow it down, filtering through what actually makes sense. Just enough to fill the week without turning it into something exhausting.
Once in a while, you glance up and look at the bathroom door still closed. Then frown. “Is he—building a house in there or what…”
You go back to your phone, adjusting your list, refining it further, but slowly, your focus shift and blur. Because your exhaustion finally catching up to you and the bed is too comfortable. You shift slightly, pulling the duvet over yourself without even realizing it, your body curling just a little as warmth settles around you.
“Just… a few minutes,” you murmur, promising yourself that you’re just going to close your eyes for a few minutes.
And the next thing you know, your phone slips out of your hand, screen dimming as the room falls quiet again and you fall into a dreamless sleep.
-
Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom with one hand still running through damp hair, the other loosely holding the edge of his sleeve as he pushes it down. He’s braced himself to hear your protest for making you waited too long for him and he’s ready to argue.
When his eyes land on you, you’re already sleeping and he just stands there, the words he had lined up dissolve before they even reach his mouth.
He exhales slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing without permission as he takes a few careful steps toward the bed. You’re curled slightly into the duvet, phone barely held in your hand, breathing slow and even like you dropped into sleep without a fight.
He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as you sleep soundly for someone who ran through the airport, pushing through conversations, holding things together like you always do.
Without thinking too much about it, he climbs onto the bed carefully, careful not to make sudden or loud movements. He crawls closer and stops just right next to you. He takes your phone first, putting it away and then the flower tucked in your ear next, he gently brushes it away before tossing it recklessly onto the floor.
He sinks lower onto the mattress and continues brushing the strands of hair away from your face, doing it with utmost care like you might break if he isn’t. then, he daringly places a hand to frame the side of your face and a small breath escapes him as his gaze lingering on you. Because you look so different like this and yet, at the same time, exactly the same.
He thinks about earlier on the plane, about the moment he woke up and saw you there. The confusion. The disbelief. The way his chest quietly flooded with relief and joy. Then he thinks about the car ride earlier, you by the window, the way your face lit up at the sight of the sea. And now, even this. You, asleep beside him and just looking at you like this makes him… happy. It settles in his chest too naturally, like it never left in the first place and it makes him forget why he was upset and how you walked away from him that night.
Everything comes back into him like a harsh reminder that whatever this is, it’s not safe. He knows better. He should know better that he’s only setting himself up for another disappointment, another heartbreak.
A quiet exhale leaves him and just like that, he pulls back, carefully shifting away, creating space where there wasn’t any before. He settles into the spot beside you instead, not too close, not too far, pulling the duvet up to his chest like a shield. He reaches over, switching off the light until the darkness settles in.
The sound of the ocean fills the silence as Hyunjin stares at the ceiling, because even with the distance, even with the reminder—
You’re still right there beside him and it complicates everything.
-
It feels like he just fell asleep. Like his eyes only closed for a few minutes instead of hours.
But when Hyunjin wakes up, the room is bright, sunlight flooding in through the floor-to-ceiling window, making him squint almost immediately,
He closes and opens his eyes a few times, trying to adjust, dragging a hand over his face as he shifts slightly and notices that your side of the bed is already empty. His brows furrow, the remnants of sleep slipping away faster now as he pushes himself up onto his elbows, glancing toward your side of the bed like you might just be… hidden under the duvet somehow.
His hand gropes around the empty space and it’s cold, you’ve been gone long enough. He sits up slowly, running a hand through his hair again as his gaze drifts toward the bathroom but you couldn’t possibly keep the door open if you’re inside. He doesn’t bother checking and steps out into the living area. Still, no sight of you.
His jaw tightens slightly as he walks toward the balcony next, pushing the door open just enough to glance outside. Still nothing. Just the ocean stretching endlessly ahead, waves rolling in slow, steady rhythms. People scatter along the beach below, looking like dots from this height.
He exhales softly, stepping back inside, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Why am I even—” he mutters under his breath, almost annoyed at himself. Because obviously, you didn’t leave. Your things are still here. Your bag, your clothes, everything. You couldn’t have just… gone.
He lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head slightly as he drops onto the sofa, legs spreading, one arm slung across the back while the other rubs at his eyes. He’s overthinking it when there’s other possibilities. Maybe you’re out on a morning walk on the beach, that’s the kind of thing you would do. Even if that’s the case, you could’ve woken him up, taken him with you. But you didn’t, you chose to leave him alone in the hotel room.
He scoffs quietly to himself, reaching for the menu on the table to redirect his thoughts. He flips it open, scanning through options without really reading them, just letting his eyes move over the words as his mind lingers somewhere else. He’s halfway through deciding when the door beeps open and his head lifts immediately.
You walk in smiling and greet him, “Good morning.”
Hyunjin glances at you and then straightens slightly on his seat. “Morning,” he replies.
He flips the menu, eyes focusing a little too hard on the words as he casually asks, “Where’ve you been?”
You slip off your long cardigan as you walk further in, revealing that you still have your night dress on underneath, like you woke up and decided to go for a walk on the beach.
“I went for a walk on the beach,” you say, moving toward the counter. You grab a bottle of water, leaning back against the counter as you take a sip.
He nods because it’s just like what expected. He forces his focus back on the menu again and asks, “Do you want to order something for breakfast?”
“Oh, I already ate. At the buffet,” you say simply.
So you’re not only went for a morning walk, you also had breakfast without him. He tries to remain calm, like that doesn’t bother him at all, flipping the page again even though he already knows what he’s going to order.
Fine. Whatever. He picks up the phone, placing his order quickly and by the time he hangs up, you’re sitting on the low table in front of him, your knees nearly brushing his.
Your smile is brighter now, eyes focused solely on his. “Okay, we have to discuss something.”
He raises a brow slightly, leaning back just a bit. “Discuss what?”
“The discussion we didn’t get to have last night,” you simply answer.
“Oh, yeah, because you fell asleep.”
“No,” you immediately deny. “Because you were in the bathroom for far too long. What did you do in there anyway?”
He doesn’t answer and leans back on the sofa, putting a space between you and him. But you grab the front of his t-shirt and pull him close. “We have to discuss our plan for today.”
He keeps his face neutral even though he notices the way your hands drop to his thighs and holding him there. “I don’t know about you but I plan on going to the pool and just… lounging, relaxing. Order a cocktail or two.”
You drop your head to the side and sigh, “That’s your plan?”
“You have better plan than that?”
“You can’t just stay in the hotel all day,” you say, matter-of-fact. “There’s so much to do here.”
He stares at you. Then down at your hands gripping at his thighs now. Then back up again. “What are you suggesting?”
Your eyes light up like you’ve waited for him to ask you that exact question. “Well, I asked the hotel earlier and they have a trip to a waterfall—”
He opens his mouth and you quickly cover it with your hand, allowing you to finish talking. “And I signed us up.”
Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you and puts your hand away from his mouth. “This is not a discussion. It’s a persuasion.”
You grin, unapologetic. You tilt your head the other way as your hands slide up to rest lightly on his arms now. “We’re on a free vacation. We have to enjoy it to the fullest.”
He exhales slowly because here you go again, looking at him like that, with bright eyes, a bright smile like you already know the answer. Like you’re not even giving him the option to say no. And honestly, he doesn’t really want to.
“Yeah. Okay,” he finally mutters like it’s the hardest decision he ever made when, in fact, it’s the opposite.
Your face lights up immediately and out of excitement, you lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Then pull away like it’s nothing. “I’m going to shower and get everything ready,” you say, already moving, energy buzzing through you.
He watches you stand, still processing, still… a little stuck on that kiss. “Wait—” he calls out, slightly stammering. “When are we leaving?”
“In an hour!” You answer before disappearing into the bedroom like a burst of energy he can’t quite keep up with.
Hyunjin stares after you for a second and then exhales, dropping back into the sofa, one hand pressed to his cheek where you lips marked his skin with a kiss. It’s warm but searing from the inside. He should be annoyed and he kind of is, but a small smile tugs at his lips anyway and he doesn’t bother hiding it.
-
The minibus is already waiting by the time you and Hyunjin get to the lobby. He lets you go first, hand hovering near your back as you step up into the minibus, making sure you don’t trip, even if you don’t need the help. Then he climbs in after you.
Some people have already taken their seats inside. A father and his daughter take the front row. Two middle-aged ladies sit a few rows behind them with matching sun hats perched on their heads. You choose the two-seaters and Hyunjin slides into the seat next to yours.
A few minutes later, the last group piles in. Three guys take over the back seats immediately, their voices bouncing off the walls of the bus as they laugh, shove each other, talk over one another like this trip revolves around them.
About an hour in, the minibus finally slows, tires crunching softly against uneven ground before it comes to a stop. Soon, everyone steps out one by one and grouping around the wooden gate that says: Welcome to Iridis Waterfall!
Hyunjin straightens slightly, glancing around in curiosity and sees the trees, lots of them. Suddenly, has a bad feeling about it.
The guide stands at the front, clapping his hands lightly to get everyone’s attention.
“From here, we’ll be hiking for about thirty to forty-five minutes through the woods to reach the waterfall,” he announces cheerfully.
Hyunjin turns to you slowly, eyes narrowed. “You didn’t mention that there’ll be hiking,” his tone is flat, but accusing.
You just smile like that’s supposed to fix it. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”
Of course you’d say that. Of course, you’d drag him into something like this without the very important detail that it involves actual physical effort.
“I’m sure it’ll be worth it,” you assure once more as you’re digging through your bag, completely unbothered by his silent judgment.
A while later, you finally find the one you’re looking for and hand it to him. “Here.”
He takes it and then looks at it. “Mosquito repellent?”
“There are definitely meaner ones here than the ones in my backyard,” you say with a sheepish grin.
“Great,” Hyunjin says as he lets out a big, dramatic sigh. And yet, he notices the way you care about him even to the small thing like this.
All of a sudden, you take the spray bottle from his hand. “I’ll do it.”
It’s too late to stop you as you start spraying his arms, thoroughly like you’re on a mission. And Hyunjin stays still as he lets you, eyes squeezing shut instinctively as he holds his breath when you spray his neck and the back next. Then you crouch slightly to spray his legs.
“Done,” you say brightly.
He opens one eye. Then the other. “You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
One of the middle-aged ladies approaches you and politely asks, “Oh! Dear, could I borrow that?”
You immediately hand the spray over. “Of course!”
The second lady joins her, and within seconds, they’re both standing near Hyunjin, looking at him like they’ve just discovered something interesting.
“Oh my, you’re very handsome,” one of them says.
“Such nice features,” the other adds.
Hyunjin is caught off guard and doesn’t know how to react. “Uh—thank you?”
Nex to him, you’re smiling and laughing, absolutely no help whatsoever. Before the situation escalates any further, the guide calls out that it’s time to start the hike and Hyunjin doesn’t even get the chance to move properly before he’s swept forward. The two ladies latch onto him, one on each side, chatting away like they’ve just decided to adopt him for the day.
“Oh, you should walk with us!”
“Yes, yes, come along!”
Hyunjin looks over his shoulder and you’re following closely behind, grinning. You wave him forward slightly, clearly entertained as the two ladies start chatting, asking him things while dragging him into the woods.
Twenty minutes of hike and the guide tells everyone to stop for a short break. Hyunjin exhales air, wiping the sweat on his neck as he scans for somewhere to sit. He spots a fallen log and makes his way over, taking the two ladies with him. They sit on either side of him like it’s been prearranged, already pulling out their water bottles, chatting like they’ve barely broken a sweat.
Hyunjin barely has time to even think about asking before you’re there with a bottle of water for him. He looks up and you’re already unscrewing another one for yourself.
“Thanks,” he mutters, taking it.
You just nod and because the log is full, you take a step back to look for somewhere to sit. That’s when one of the guys steps forward and calls for you. “Hey, you can sit with us,” he says to you, gesturing toward another log nearby.
You hesitate for a second before walking over and have a seat. “Thanks,” you politely say.
Hyunjin watches as they chat with you, offering snacks and talking over each other again just like in the bus. Loud and animated, trying too hard. He scoffs quietly knowing that they don’t stand a chance. They’re young and reckless, definitely not your type.
He takes another sip of water, eyes still drifting over and catches you laughing and talking, getting comfortable with them. And something in his chest tightens just a little.
The guide calls everyone back, announcing the break’s over. Hyunjin stands immediately, brushing his hands against his pants before turning back to the two ladies.
The path turns into a rocky one and the guide constantly tells everyone to watch their steps. The little girl now hoisted on the father’s back, the two ladies relying on Hyunjin to navigate, offering his hand and making sure neither of them trips. But he can’t help the eyes drifting to the back, toward you and the three guys eagerly helping you, making sure you don’t slip.
Hyunjin tries not to think much about it and focuses on helping the ladies making it safely down the path. Soon, the sound of waterfall could be heard from behind the trees, faint at first and it grows louder the further they walk.
When the waterfall comes into view, everyone halts to a stop and just watch the way the water cascading down from above, crashing into the pool below with a force that echoes through the entire space. Mist rises lightly, catching the sunlight filtering through the trees, turning everything soft and glowing.
Everyone is in awe, including him. He looks over his shoulder at you and catches your eyes shine at the sight so that includes you too.
When everyone moves again, they move with a boost of energy, their steps quicker now as they make their way down the last stretch of the rocky path, stopping just beneath the trees where the shade offers relief.
Hyunjin doesn’t wait. He turns and walks straight over to you. “Here,” he says, offering his hand at you to help you walk down the last of the rocky path.
“Guys, we’re here!” The guide announces with a proud smile, “Go ahead and enjoy your time.”
Everyone scatters off almost immediately, picking their own shelter and Hyunjin, still holding your hand, guide you toward a large boulder a little further off. He climbs up first, steadying himself before turning back and offering you his hand.
You take it and let him pull you up. And then you’re both there. You stretch your legs out in front of you, letting out a soft sigh as your gaze lifts toward the waterfall again. “Whoa…”
Hyunjin doesn’t look at the waterfall. He looks at you and the way your face softens. The way your eyes light up again and how it’s still new to him seeing this bright, carefree version of you.
You turn your head toward him and smile. “Told you that it’s worth it.”
Yeah, it is. He answers inside his head and it’s not because of the hike or the waterfall. But because of you, because of that smile.
A loud splashing sound cuts through the serenity, followed by shouting and laughing from the three guys as the jump into the water. Soon enough, more people follow.
You reach for your bag, slipping your water bottle back inside before glancing at him. “Are you going to swim?”
He doesn’t answer but looks at you instead. “Are you?”
You stand and start pulling your t-shirt off, already putting on a swimsuit underneath. “Of course I’m going to swim.”
You reach down for your denim shorts next, undoing the button and pull it down your legs.
Hyunjin tries not to look but he does anyway, catching you fixing the straps on your shoulders and then you glide your hands down your front, smoothing the fabric. And that’s when he looks away.
Then, you toss your denim shorts at him and cheerfully say, “Race you to the water!”
Before he can react to it, you’re already running and laughing as you head straight for the water, not even looking back.
Hyunjin takes his time. He takes his clothes off, putting his and your things into a neat pile under the shade before getting off the boulder. The rocks are hot from being exposed to the sun when he steps on them, and he hurriedly put his feet in the water to cool them down.
He sees you then, just playing on the shallow water, chatting and laughing as the little girl from earlier holding onto your hands, keeping her steady on the surface.
“Like this—yeah, you’re doing it!” you encourage.
The girl giggles, kicking her feet clumsily against the water.
You look up and lights up when you notice him. “Get in here already!”
“Yeah, get in here!” the girl repeats with her giggly voice.
Feeling mischievous, Hyunjin jumps in and the water crashes around him, sending a splash big enough to soak both of you. When he surfaces, he finds you both squealing and laughing. He moves closer, the water settling around him as he floats near you.
Then suddenly, you lift the girl and place her on his back. “Hyunjin will take you for a swim,” you say, like it’s already decided.
The girl immediately wraps her little arms around his shoulders, giggling. There’s not other option for him but starts swimming. He makes a small loop around the area, keeping her steady, letting her laugh echo against the water until he brings her back.
“Thank you,” she sweetly says as she hops off onto a rock nearby, running back toward her father.
Hyunjin barely has time to turn as you jump onto his back. “It’s my turn now,” you say, already clinging to him, arms looping around his shoulders.
He huffs a laugh despite himself. But his hands come up instinctively, steadying you anyway. He swims slower, moving closer to the waterfall. The sound grows louder, the mist cooler against his skin as he stops just at the edge where the water crashes down hard enough to ripple everything around them.
You don’t let go but shift, turning around and pulling back just enough to face him, your hands resting on his shoulders now, your body still pressed close.
“I have something to tell you,” You murmur with a serious face.
He tilts his head slightly, confused but mostly, curious. “What?”
You lean in close and bring your mouth close to his ear, then whisper, “I can’t swim.”
He looks at you with genuine surprise now. “Are you serious?”
You sheepishly smile and nod.
That’s new. He stares at you for half a second and the mischief in him returns. He smirks before he dips, pulling you down with him until you’re both engulfed in water and the world is muted for a brief moment until you both resurface.
You gasp immediately, clutching onto him tighter as you cough lightly. “Are you crazy? I told you I can’t swim!”
He laughs, clearly enjoying this too much. “You’re floating just fine.”
“This is not funny—” you grumble, legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, holding onto him like your life depends on it.
He steadies you, still smiling as he reaches up and gently brushes the strands sticking to your face to the back. He looks at you and the way the sunlight catching on the water droplets clinging to you, the way your lashes stick together and just the way you cling to him. All of a sudden, he’s aware of how close you are, how your hands are gripping his shoulders and how your face is right there, merely inches away from his.
Instinctively, he puts his arms tighter around you, a hand holds you by the nape. His gaze drops briefly to your lips and then back to your eyes. And before he can think too much about it, he leans in slowly, like he’s giving himself time to stop. But he doesn’t.
And instead, a voice slices through the moment.
“HEY!”
Both of you turn and the guys, they’re up by a smaller waterfall now, dragging a tube up the rocks, laughing like idiots.
“Come try this!” one of them calls out, waving at you.
You look at them and then back at Hyunjin. And grin. “Let’s try it!”
“No,” Hyunjin refuses immediately.
“Come on. It’ll be fun,” you coax again, shaking his shoulders.
He doesn’t want to. Because he prefers to stay right here. In this moment with you. but you’re looking at him like that again — shining eyes and a bright smile.
“Please?” you whine softly.
He groans and helps you back toward the edge, steadying you as you climb out, but he doesn’t follow this time. He stays in the water and intently watching as you climb the rocks, joining them at the top of the smaller waterfall.
They help you onto the tube and make sure you’re settled on it before they push the tube down the water stream and you’re off. You’re sliding down fast, your scream echoing through the space, a mix of fear and excitement that makes his worry for a split second. You hit the water hard, creating splashes on the water and the tube flips, you disappear under.
Hyunjin rushes to swim toward you but before he gets there, you’re rising to the surface, breathlessly laughing. “That was so fun!”
Relief hits him but he quickly reaches you, hands finding your arms, steadying you again. “You okay?” he asks, softer now.
You nod quickly, still grinning. “Yeah.”
By the time you both climb back onto the boulder, the adrenaline has worn off just enough to leave behind a pleasant kind of exhaustion.
Hyunjin sits first, catching his breath, water still dripping from his hair and all over his body. You follow right after, hugging yourself slightly as the breeze hits your damp skin. Without thinking, he reaches for his shirt and drapes it over your shoulders.
But you’re too busy rummaging through your backpack again to notice, fingers digging around until you pull a small bag of food. You smile at him, a little apologetic. “I only packed apples and biscuits.”
Hyunjin leans back slightly, peeking into the bag. “That’s more than enough,” he honestly says because he didn’t even think of packing anything at all.
So he doesn’t complain. Instead, he reaches in, grabs an apple, and takes a bite. You grab a pack of biscuits, tearing it open as you sit beside him, quietly snacking.
For a moment, it’s peaceful again, just the sound of the waterfall and the rustles of trees, the occasional splash from below. Then—
“Hey!” The two ladies waving enthusiastically from under the shade. “Come over here!”
You and Hyunjin glance at each other. He hops down first and helps you next, stepping carefully off the boulder as he steadies you.
And together, you walk over to the small picnic they set up under a tree. Beach towels spread over the ground, containers opened, food laid out like they planned for a small party instead of just the two of them.
“We packed too much for the two of us,” one of them says.
Hyunjin stands there and takes it in. Yeah. They definitely packed too much.
“Come, come!” the other says, gesturing him to take a seat.
You sit down first and he follows after, sitting down next to you.
One of them pushes the food containers toward him and says, “We went a little overboard.”
“A little?” Hyunjin mutters under his breath.
You nudge him lightly and shoot him a glare. Then you turn toward them and say, “Thank you for having us.”
Hyunjin eats whatever they offer him — sandwiches, fruits, bottled juice while sharing stories about their trip and that this it’s a girl’s trip they took to commemorate their forty years of friendship.
Next to him, you’re beaming and warmly smile. “Forty years? Wow, that’s incredible,” you say in genuine awe.
“We’ve been friends since we were fourteen.”
“Oh, we haven’t properly introduced ourselves,” the one with short hair and doe eyes says, “I’m Jules.”
The other one with strawberry blonde hair smiles and raises her hand in a small wave. “And I’m Diane.”
You introduce yourself and he smiles when you introduce him next, offering a polite nod at the two ladies.
Jules leans forward slightly, eyes twinkling. “So, are you two on your honeymoon?”
You and Hyunjin exchange a glance and then break into a soft laugh. “Sorry—no. We’re just co-workers,” you say politely, shaking your head.
Hyunjin stays quiet and lets you handle it, focusing on finishing his sandwich instead.
“Oh! I’m sorry—I assumed—” Jules sheepishly says.
“It’s okay,” you reassure her easily.
But Diane tilts her head, curiosity sparked her heart-shaped face. “Then why are you here together?”
Jules immediately smacks her lightly on the thigh. “Diane! People are allowed to go on vacation!” she softly scolds her friend.
Hyunjin snorts quietly, lifting his bottle of water for a sip. He glances at you and notices that you need help answering this time. “We won a free vacation,” he says simply.
All three pairs of eyes turned to him, two of them in curiosity and the other one in slight horror.
“We won it from the company raffle. Anniversary event,” Hyunjin further explains.
Your brow raises, impressed with the way he lies so smoothly while Jules and Diane gasp almost in sync.
“No way!”
“That’s incredible!”
“So lucky!”
They gush immediately, the excitement contagious as they go on about how rare that is, how it must be fate, how things like that don’t just happen.
“I think we’re just lucky,” you say, being modest.
Jules grins as she looks at him and then at you. Then she says, “I hope something happens between you two after this.”
Hyunjin doesn’t miss the chance and lightly says, “I hope so too.”
Everyone laughs, including you. When he looks at you again, your smile lingers, wider yet softer now. And the way you’re looking at him, it does something to him.
So he looks away, takes another bite of his sandwich and pretends he doesn’t feel it settle somewhere deep in his chest.
-
By the time everyone is settled into the minibus, they’re too tired to talk, too content to fill the space with noise. The father and daughter in the front have gone still, the girl slumped against him, fast asleep. Jules and Diane are leaning into each other, chatting softly before falling into their own silence. Even the three guys in the back have gone quiet for the first time today. One of them half-asleep, the other two staring out the window like they’ve run out of energy to even say a word.
Hyunjin leans back in his seat and beside him, you shift closer. He glances down and you turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes. “I’m tired,” you mumble.
Yes, he can see it from the way your face dim a little from exhaustion. Yet, you still manage a small, sleepy smile for him.
“I’m going to nap,” you mutter, drowsy.
He nods. “Okay.”
With that, you take his arm without asking, guiding it around your shoulders and then rest your head against him. You keep snuggling to him to find the comfort you seek — a hand rests on his chest, head nuzzles further into the crook of his neck.
Hyunjin stills for a brief moment before he relaxes into it. His arm settles more securely around you, pulling you just a little closer so you don’t slip with the movement of the bus.
Soon, your breathing evens out and when he looks down, your face is relaxed, lashes resting softly against your cheeks, lips parted just slightly as sleep takes over completely.
Something in him softens at the sight and instinctively, his thumbs brushing lightly against your arm where it rests under his hand in tender circles. He feels you sink deeper into him like this is the safest place you could be.
He shifts his head back against the seat, letting his gaze linger on you for a moment longer before looking out the window. The trees thinning out and the sky starts fading into evening again.
But his attention keeps drifting back to you and the way you easily fit in his arms, like it’s always been. For the first time, he doesn’t overthink it and just holds you, letting himself enjoy this tender moment
-
Hyunjin stirs, brows knitting slightly as he shifts against the seat, still half-drifting in that in-between space when he hears your voice softly calling his name.
“Hyunjin....”
He opens his eyes slowly and you’re right there, leaning into him, one hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. Your face is steady, a small smile tugging at your lips like you’ve been watching him for a while.
“We’re almost there,” you murmur.
It takes him a second to realize that he’s still in the minibus and he must’ve fallen asleep somewhere along the way. He stretches, arms lifting above his head, back arching slightly as he exhales.
You’re already digging into your bag and pull out a bottle of water. “Want some water?”
“Yes, please,” he says, taking it without question, twisting it open and taking a long sip. He didn’t know he needs it until the water touches his dry throat.
A shadow falls over your seat and then—
“Hey!”
Hyunjin looks up and one of the guys from earlier, leaning in a little too comfortably.
He glances at you, not even acknowledging Hyunjin at first. “Do you have plans tonight?”
A little caught off guard, you let out a light chuckle. “Not really.”
The guy grins and cheekily says, “Well, now you do.”
You chuckle again. “Really?”
“I’m DJing at this club tonight,” he says, pulling out a card from his wallet and handing it to you. “You should come.”
Hyunjin watches as you take the card, look at it and then at him. Like you’re asking something without saying it. Permission, perhaps. Or opinions. Instead, he keeps drinking his water, not giving you anything to read.
You turn back to the guy and politely smile. “I’ll try to be there,” you say.
The guy doesn’t leave right away but offers his hand at you. “I’m Dane.”
You take his hand for a quick handshake and introduce yourself. Then you gesture toward Hyunjin. “And this is Hyunjin,” you add.
Hyunjin gives a small nod just to be polite and Dane nods back, also just to be polite. Dane looks back at you and smiles. “See you later.”
Finally, he retreats and back to his seat as you slip the card into your shorts pocket like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t mean anything. And maybe it is or it isn’t. Either way, something settles uncomfortably in his chest.
The minibus slows down soon after, pulling into the hotel driveway as everyone starts gathering their things. One by one, they step out. Hyunjin follows closely behind you, stretching slightly as his feet hit the ground again.
Jules and Diane are already standing nearby, waiting just to say bye and exchange a quick hug with you and him.
“Take care, dear!” Jules says warmly.
“See you around,” Diane adds.
You and Hyunjin stand side by side as you both wave your hands at them.
“Buh-bye,” the little girl says, voice heavy with sleep, head still tucked against her father’s shoulder.
A small smile tugs at his lips as he waves back at her. “Bye-bye!”
As the two of you about to walk toward the entrance, another voice cuts in again.
“Hey! See you tonight!” one of them calls out, grinning.
“Don’t forget!” another adds.
You just wave and politely smile. Then, you grab Hyunjin’s arm and start pulling him along with you toward the elevator. You turn your head and smile. “Told you it’s going to be fun,” you say.
Hyunjin has no energy left to deny and holds himself back from smiling. “Yeah, it was fun.”
-
Hyunjin has changed into comfortable clothes and he’s full from dinner. And now, he sinks into the sofa with one arm tucked behind his head and the other lazily scrolling through his phone. The room is quiet which makes your absence from the immediate space noticeable even though you’re just in the other room, probably relaxing as well after a long day.
He’s halfway through loading the game on his phone when you appear in front of him, holding a dress up against yourself.
“Does this look good on me?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.
His eyes dragging from your face to the dress and back again. Then he drops his phone onto his stomach. “Where are you going?”
You shift your weight slightly, still holding the dress up, one finger playing with the thin strap. “Well, we don’t really have plans tonight. And someone invited me, so I figured it might be fun to go out.”
He puts down his phone on his stomach. “You mean the kid DJ?”
“He’s not a kid,” you say with an amused chuckle, walking closer to him. “He’s of age so don’t make it sound like I’m doing something illegal.”
You sit down near his legs, turning slightly toward him, still holding the dress like you need his answer. “So? Does it look good?”
He barely glances at it this time. “It’s fine.”
You drop your hands and hold the dress close to your chest. “Are you coming with me?”
He shakes his head almost instantly. “No.”
“Come on,” you say, softer now, nudging his leg lightly. “Let’s have a fun night out.”
“I’m tired.”
“There wasn’t even that much hiking,” you argue, pouting slightly.
He finally looks at you properly. “You’re not tired?”
You shake your head without hesitation. “Nope.”
He reaches for his phone again and looks at the time, it’s a little after midnight. “But it’s late.”
You snort. “You’re supposed to go to the club late at night.”
“I’m not going,” Hyunjin says one more time and picks up his phone, continues loading the game.
You lean in again, closer this time, your shoulder brushing his knee. “Come on. Don’t let me go alone,” you try again.
And for a split second, he almost says yes, because it’s you asking and looking at him like that again. But instead, he shakes his head. “No.”
Because what he really wants isn’t that. It’s the opposite. He wants you to stay here with him. He wants you to choose him, instead of going out to see some kid DJing.
You pout again as you look at him and he sees the retreat in your eyes. He thinks that’s it, you’ll give in. But then—
“Well,” you say, shrugging lightly as you stand. “Have fun playing with your phone then.”
His gaze flicks up, watching you as you’re already walking away with the dress in hand and then disappear into the bedroom.
The room turns quiet again and he decides to pass the time on his phone. He manages to distract himself long enough that he almost forgets that you’re still deciding to go until the doors slide open and you step out.
He looks up and finds you there, dressed in a short dress that accentuates the shape of your body and the straps that not less thicken than your pinkie finger. Your legs bare, the heels adding just enough height to change the way you carry yourself. Your hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, strands falling loose in a way that looks unintentional, but isn’t. Your makeup is subtle, but intense around the eyes.
In other words, you look dangerous tonight. Not just to him, but to every pair of eyes that land on you.
He swallows, having a hard time comprehending the way you look tonight. “You’re—… You’re really going,” he says, instead of delivering the praises he has in his mind.
You walk toward the table, grabbing the hotel keycard and slipping it into your purse. “Don’t wait up,” you say casually.
With that, you walk past him and toward the door.
Hyunjin knows that he should say something, convincing you to stay but nothing comes out of his parted mouth. His voice stays stuck somewhere between his chest and his throat.
Your hand lands on the door handle and you pause to look over your shoulder. Your smile bright and easy, hand waving at him. “Bye, bye”
And then, you’re gone. The door clicks shut behind you and the silence that follows is louder than before.
-
It’s only been half an hour since you walked out of that door and Hyunjin tells himself that you’re a grown woman, certainly capable of taking care of yourself and that he shouldn’t worry much. You’re probably still on the way to the club anyway, probably queuing to get your ID checked.
He slouches deeper into the sofa, phone in hand, thumb moving across the screen as he opens a game. The sounds are one, intentionally so to fill the silence you left behind. Another half an hour passed and his mind somehow drifting back to you. You must be in the club already, moving through the crowd and with the way you look tonight, heads will be turned wherever you go. Including that kid DJ. Shane? Kane? Whatever. Him waving you over and asking you to join him, near his booth, dancing to the music he plays.
The game keeps going without him as Hyunjin’s focus is now out there, with you. at the thought you having fun without him, dancing and having the time of your life, drinking—
Oh?!
You don’t handle alcohol well and he knows what happens when you drink too much. And the way you get a little too loose, a little too trusting when you do.
He sits up and the phone drops onto his lap. Because now he’s thinking— Who’s watching you? Who’s making sure you’re okay? That guy? His friends?
He lets out a quiet scoff, doubting that they’d take care of you or make sure you get back safely. He decides it then that he’ll be that person. He’s moving now, standing up, running a hand through his hair as he paces once, twice and then his eyes land on the denim shorts you wore earlier. He picks them up and checks the pockets, one after the other. He remembers you slipped the card into one of the pockets. “…Where did you—”
He turns and continues scanning the room. Then heads to the bathroom. There, next to your makeup pouch is the card. He grabs it and reads the club name, typing it into the search bar to know how far it is from the hotel. Turns out, he only needs a taxi ride there.
Hyunjin doesn’t wait but call the front desk to order a taxi for him and hangs up before they can say anything else. He moves back into the room, grabbing a shirt, shoes, not even bothering to check if they match, if they look right. It doesn’t matter — he’s not going there for that.
There’s only one thing on his mind right now and that is finding you.
-
The club is bigger than he expected and thus, making the search a little harder. The place is packed with bodies and people notice him as he moves through them, throwing him a flirty glance, a shameless call to join their table, an offer to buy him a drink and on any other night, he’d respond because this is something he thrives in. But tonight, he doesn’t even register it properly. He’s not here for that. He’s here for you. And you’re nowhere in sight.
He pushes forward anyway, slipping between people, shoulders brushing against strangers as he moves deeper into the crowd. His eyes flick toward the stage and the kid DJ, Lane? Bane? Ugh, whatever. He’s playing the booth, hands moving across the deck, completely in his element.
Hyunjin narrows his eyes slightly, searching for your face but you’re not anywhere he can see. So he keeps looking, turning slowly in the middle of the dancefloor, scanning faces and still, nothing.
He tilts his head, scanning the upper level where the booths are and he doesn’t find you, but he spots the other two guys, drinking and bobbing their hands to the upbeat music. Hyunjin doesn’t waste another second to push through the crowd again, heading straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time before reaching the upper level. He spots their booth immediately and walks straight up to it. there’s a girl sitting there and for a second, he thinks it’s you so he grabs her shoulder. His expression drops the second he realizes that it’s not you.
“Sorry,” he mutters quickly, already letting go.
Hyunjin walks up to the two guys standing by the metal railing. “Where is she?” He asks immediately.
One of them looks at him with dazed eyes, too loose to focus. “What?”
“The girl. Where is she?” he presses.
The two of them exchange a look. “What girl?”
Hyunjin exhales, irritation creeping in. “Where’s my girlfriend?”
One of them leans forward, squinting slightly. “Oh—wait, it’s the guy from the waterfall, right?”
The other one’s eyes widen and gasps in recognition. “Oh! Yeah, yeah—I remember!”
“So where is she?” Hyunjin repeats, slower now but no less urgent.
They glance around. Then one of them shrugs. “She went to the restroom about ten minutes ago,” he says.
Hyunjin doesn’t wait but turning around, going down the stairs and following the signs. The hallway leading to the restrooms is just as crowded—people lingering, talking too close, some pressed against the walls, others too wrapped up in a heated kiss to even notice anything else. He pushes through and stops right outside the women’s restroom. Because obviously, he can’t just walk in.
Okay, new plan. He’ll patiently wait and asks whoever comes out of it. He exhales air and leans against the wall when all of a sudden, he feels a hand on his shoulder. He slowly turns and finds you grinning at him like nothing’s wrong. Like he didn’t just tear through half the city looking for you.
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you. From your face, to your posture, to the way you’re standing a little too loose.
“Were you looking for me?”
There’s no point denying it. Not when he’s literally standing outside the women restroom like some kind of guard. He gives a small nod and weakly answer, “Yeah.”
He stands straighter, turning fully to face you now. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you answer a little too fast.
He doesn’t buy it so he steps closer, just to lean in slightly, eyes locking onto yours, studying you more carefully now. Your gaze holds for a moment before it falters. Gotcha!
“You’re lying,” he says flatly.
“I’m not,” you insist quickly.
As if to prove a point, you step back and spin on your feet, doing a full turn without losing your balance. “See?”
Hyunjin is not yet convinced and he’s right to feel so because the second you step forward, you wobble and almost fall on your face. Thankfully, he is quick to catch you in his arms, pulling you steady against him.
But you laugh in reaction like it’s funny. Like you didn’t just prove his point perfectly.
Hyunjin exhales sharply through his nose. “That looks fine to you, yeah?”
You huff at the strand of hair still sticking to your lips, trying to blow it away. “I only drank a little,” you mumble.
He raises a brow. “A little?”
You nod. “A little. But like… five times.”
He lets out a tired, disbelieving laugh. “You’ve been taking shots, huh?”
You grin while nodding. “Yeah.”
He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair before taking your arm, guiding it around his shoulders, steadying you properly this time. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to his side so you don’t tip over again.
You instantly lean into him as you mumble, “I swear, I stopped drinking after five drinks.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Because if I had one more, I’d be done.”
“Good to know you have limits.”
You pout and glare at him. “I’m serious.”
“I know.”
He adjusts his grip slightly, making sure you’re steady before starting to move, guiding you through the crowded hallway. “Let’s get out of here first,” he says.
-
The two of you move to a convenience store just down the street. You sit on one of the stools, waiting for him as he gets you a bottle of water and anti-hangover drink, paying for them before returning to you.
When he reaches you, his hand lands gently on your shoulder and you slightly jolt, head snapping up, eyes unfocused for a second before they land on him.
You smile a soft, lazy smile. “Oh… hi.”
Hyunjin holds himself back from smiling from how adorable you look right now. “Yeah. Hi.”
He uncaps the water and hands it to you. “Here. Drink this.”
You take it from his hand and gulp it down like you’ve been thirsty all night.
He opens the next bottle and hands it over. “Finish this too.”
You obey without question. Then immediately wince at the taste, face scrunching up. “Ugh—what is that?”
“Something you need,” he says simply.
You ‘re still wincing but gulps the whole thing down. Your body shakes as you force yourself to swallow it down.
He watches you closely and places a hand on your shoulder. “Better?”
You look at him, still thinking and processing. “I think, what’s going to make me sober… is cup noodles.”
You don’t wait but slide off the stool, about to go get it yourself but he immediately stops you. “Just sit here. I’ll get it for you,”
You slump back down and give him another soft, lazy smile. “Thank you,” you say, slightly slurring the words.
Hyunjin gets off his stool and turns toward the noodle aisle. He goes through the same route, grabs the cup noodles you pointlessly decided you need, pays for it, and prepares it at the hot water station. It takes him a few minutes to finally return with the cup noodles for you.
He carefully sets it down in front of you. “It’s hot. Let it sit—”
You obediently nod as you stare at the cup noodles but something about it makes him suspicious. Because the second he looks away, you grab it and stand.
“Hey, where—”
You ignore him and keep walking toward the door. You push it open with your shoulder, stepping out into the night air with cup noodles cradled in your hands.
Hyunjin groans under his breath and follows immediately. “Where are you going?”
You turn your head side to side, planning to cross the street. “To the beach.”
“What?”
“I want to eat it there,” you answer, crossing the street while trying not to drop the cup noodles.
He exhales sharply, doubling back for half a second. He grabs the water bottle you left behind and then he’s after you again.
A few minutes later, you’re sitting on the cold sand, legs crossed, shoulders wrapped in his jacket that keeps slipping off every few seconds and every time it does, he reaches over and fixes it again without thinking.
Hyunjin continues watching you eat, slurping noodles like you’ve been starving for days. The sea is barely visible, just a stretch of black blending into the sky, but you keep looking at it anyway, like you can see something more. Eventually, you finish with a loud gasp, tipping the cup to drink the last of the broth.
“Unbelievable…” he huffs quietly, rather affectionately.
You lower the empty cup with a satisfied sigh and he hands you the water in exchange of it. you take a long gulp of it and when you’re done, he also takes the bottle from you, stands, and walks over to the nearest bin to throw everything away.
When he comes back, he finds you hugging your legs now, chin resting on your knees, staring out at the dark sea again. The crescent moon reflects faintly on the water, just enough to break the darkness.
He settles beside you again and asks, “Okay?”
You let out a soft sigh. “I think I’m sober now.”
He nods once, pulling the jacket up your shoulder again. “Then let’s go home.”
You shake your head immediately. “No.”
He glances at you. “No?”
“Let’s just stay here.”
He exhales lightly. “And do what?”
You reach for his wrist, turning it just enough to check the time on his watch. “There’s only like… an hour until sunrise.”
“So we just sit here until then?”
You nod and a moment later, you look at him. “Or we can talk about why you’re so mad at me.”
Hyunjin freezes because it feels like he’s being put on the spot. “I’m not mad at you,” he calmly says.
You glance sideways. “Yeah, but you’re upset with me.”
Hyunjin doesn't respond because that part is true. That he's still upset about that night, about you leaving him for Seungmin, about you choosing someone else over him. But he decides not to say it out loud but let the silence answers it for him.
You understand anyway and nod slightly. “I get why you’re upset.”
You dig your toes into the sand and let out a soft sigh. “And I’m sorry.”
When you look at him, your eyes are soft and open, like you’re finally done acting you’re fine and everything is under control. “I can’t justify what I did to you but there was just so much to explain. So much you don’t understand.”
Hyunjin doesn’t expect for things to turn serious all of a sudden, not after he found you half-drunk. Not after you crossed the street while holding a boiling cup noodle and ate the whole thing in under ten minutes.
“But just so you know…” you say, turning to face him now. “I’m not getting back with Seungmin.”
Something in his chest caves, like it’s opening up for something.
“The gala thing wasn’t a lie. It really was for work,” you further explain, holding his gaze as if letting him see for himself that you’re telling nothing but the truth. “He needed help approaching someone… and I agreed.”
Your fingers dip into the sand, absentmindedly tracing patterns as you speak. “But I wouldn’t lie either. That at one point of the night, it felt good to be with him again.”
Hyunjin’s jaw tightens just slightly, suddenly unsure of where are you going with this.
“But I knew better. It was exactly what he wanted me to feel. The whole night, he was deluding me to think that it’d be like that again.”
You shake your head and pause to deeply inhale air. “So at the end of the night, I ended things with him.”
Yes, Hyunjin feels relieved that you finally ended things with him but he also realizes that it must be not easy for you. You used to love this person and he knows that a part you is hurt for doing it.
He hears you sniffle and he turns to see tears sliding down your cheeks. You quickly brush them away with your shoulder, like you don’t want to make a big deal out of it.
“I’m just… sad,” you say, voice breaking at the edges. “I let myself get too hung up on him.”
Your voice trembles as more tears streaming down your face. “I waited. And waited. Like a damn fool… thinking he’d come back.”
You press the back of your hand against your eyes like it would stop the tears from keep flowing. “I wasted so much time. On him. On someone who doesn’t want me back.”
Something in him tightens painfully because this isn’t about Seungmin anymore. It’s about you and what you went through.
You inhale deeply and then let it out in one shaky exhale. “I’m just sad it took me this long to end this.”
Hyunjin is no stranger to bad choices, probably made a lot more than you did. So he understands why you were so hard on yourself because some choices are harder to bounce back.
You wipe your face again, breathing steadying little by little. “This is the last time you’re crying about it,” you remark, wiping your cheeks with the heel of your hand.
When you look at him again, your eyes are still wet, but you’re smiling a bright, hopeful smile. “And from now on, I’m going to enjoy the hell out of this vacation.”
You nudge him then, shoulder bumping against him. “And I want you to do the same.”
He softly chuckles at that, gaze turning affectionate now as his hand lifts, running gently through your hair. Then pats your head.
“Yeah, let’s do that,” Hyunjin says, making a promise to you and himself.
You hold his gaze for a second longer like you’re making sure he meant it and break into another smile. You scoot closer to his side, linking your arm with his and resting your head on his shoulder.
This time, he doesn’t hesitate but let himself feels everything. The fragility of this moment and how it significantly changes something between you and him.
When he looks down, he notices the wat your hand settles on his lap, palm turned slightly upward like an invitation. Without the slightest of doubt, he takes it, sliding his fingers between yours and lacing them together. And whatever this is, whatever it’s becoming, he doesn’t question it. Not yet.
For now, you and him sit there, watching the sky slowly shift. Dark blue fading into a shade lighter with each passing moment until the first hints of morning stretching across the horizon.
And with it, a new beginning.
-
The sun lifts higher in the horizon when you and Hyunjin step out of a taxi. Instead of taking the elevator, you both make a turn to the hotel buffet, planning on having a breakfast before heading back to the hotel room. The two of you sit across from each other, plates filled like you’re making up for everything you didn’t eat last night, both of you too busy actually eating to talk.
With stomach full of food and eyes heavy with sleep, you and Hyunjin get onto the elevator. He leans back against the wall, arm draped loosely around your shoulders, keeping you tucked into his side without even thinking about it.
“I’m so full…” you sigh, dropping your head to his shoulder.
He hums in agreement.
“So sleepy…”
“Same.”
But once you both step into your hotel room, you both drift toward the bathroom at the same time, sharing a space by the sink. Brushing your teeth side by side while exchanging glances through the mirror.
You finish first and continue rinse your mouth with a scoop of water. You pat your face dry after, then disappear into the bedroom. With the bathroom door left open, he watches as you changing out of your dress and slip into a t-shirt with nothing underneath, but your dark underwear.
Before he forgets, he makes way to the door to hang the Do Not Disturb sign outside. When he comes back in, you’re on the bed, fluffing pillows and making space for both of you.
He does his part by reaching for the curtains, pulling them shut until the room falls into a soft dimness, only a sliver of morning light slipping through the edge. Then he climbs in.
The second he settles into his side of the bed, you move closer. Your body turning toward him, hand resting on his chest as you lie on your side, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
The smile that blooms on his face is soft and unguarded. His hand lifts, brushing along your cheek, thumb tracing gently against your skin. “Good morning,” he murmurs.
You let out a quiet chuckle. “Good morning.”
And when he leans in for a kiss, you’re already there, waiting. Your soft lips and his soft lips, melting together like the rest of the world doesn’t exist beyond this bed, this room, this moment.
He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, tilting his head as he mutters, “Ooo, you taste like peppermint.”
You giggle, hand moving to his waist and resting it there. “Thanks. It’s my toothpaste.”
Hyunjin shifts, propping an elbow against the mattress, allowing him to hover above you. But his hand stays there, framing the side of your face as he leans in again. At first, it’s just an innocent press of his lips on yours but the moment he opens his mouth, the kiss turns deeper and you kiss him back with the same eagerness.
The two of you continue to show perfect cooperation. He focuses on your lower lip as you focus on his upper lip. When you part your mouth wider, he doesn’t waste time to twirl your tongue with him and deepen the kiss. It’s slow, wet and intimate. More than that, it feels like you mean it. Like you’ve chosen it.
The moment stretches but the exhaustion pulls you under. When he finally pulls away, your eyes are closed, drowsy.
He lets out a quiet laugh, playfully nudging his nose with yours. “Can barely keep your eyes open, huh?”
Already halfway gone, you slowly nod and hum. “Mmh-hm.”
Something about how safe you look, how comfortable you are in this moment, with him, makes his chest warm. So he leans in one last time, presses a long, lingering kiss to your lips.
“Sweet dreams,” he mutters when he pulls away.
Then he shifts, settling onto his side, pulling you with him until you fit against him perfectly. You melt into him instantly, head tucked into the crook of his neck, hand still resting over his waist, falling asleep slowly and then all at once.
Hyunjin holds you close and tightly like something he doesn’t want to lose. His lips brush against your forehead for a sweet kiss.
And as the room settles into a peaceful silence, he lets his eyes close too with his arms still holding you.
Into sleep.
Into something new.
-
Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!
➥ When Jisung drops the spicy specs for the next shoot, you have a perfectionism-induced existential crisis. Hyunjin's solution is to take you to the bar two blocks down, blissfully unaware that the ghosts of his past are about to say "boo!"
Caution: Slippery when wet, keep a mop around. Contains Unprofessional lore updates.
𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝙴
“One thing.”
“Listen…”
“I asked for one thing, Hyunjin.”
“I said listen…”
“Listen to what? This was supposed to be our calling, and you fucking RUINED IT!”
“I GOT SCARED, OKAY?!”
“OF WHAT?”
“OF FAILURE. OF RIDICULE. I DON’T KNOW HOW NOT TO GIVE A SHIT LIKE YOU DO SO FUCKING WELL, GOLDEN BOY!!!”
“Yeah, keep doing that. Bet it’s super helpful to make your dreams come true, fucking coward.”
“A what?”
“A domme.”
“A what?”
“A domme,” Jisung repeated emphatically. “Why are you looking at me like I offended your entire lineage?”
Having a permanent record of you getting railed flat by the Sam Strokes in 8k was supposed to be the most “omg” trivia of your life. Then a certain Han Jisung decided to give it an expiration date of 72 hours and handed you the call sheet for the next episode, suddenly changing the trivia tag to “WHAT IN THE ABSOLUTE FRESH MOTHERFUCK?!”
HOW FUN!!!
“When I saw BDSM, I really didn’t expect to be the um…” you loudly cleared your throat, “...the giving party.”
Keep reading
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to go to prom with Hyunjin.
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haii I was thinking hc with virgin!reader (she isn't dumb or anything, but she just doesn't know much about making love), and Hyunjin happily agreed to teach you.
Hyunjin x virgin!reader headcanons
synopsis: my take on how how hyunjin treats his girl during her first time
• Hyunjin spends weeks easing you into the idea, never pushing, always checking in with soft whispers during movie nights on the couch. When you finally confess your nervousness about being a virgin, his long fingers intertwine with yours, eyes sparkling with reassurance as he kisses your knuckles. "We'll go at your pace, baby. I just want to make you feel good."
• He dims the bedroom lights, lights a vanilla candle for a soothing scent, and lays out soft towels on the bed, explaining everything beforehand—no surprises. He strips slowly first, revealing his lean, toned body, cock already half-hard and curving slightly upward, veins tracing the length, to normalize it for you.
• He starts with endless kisses, lips brushing yours feather-light at first, then deepening as your mouth opens for his tongue to slide in, tasting sweet like the strawberry lip balm he knows you love. His hands roam your clothed body, thumbs circling your nipples through your shirt until they pebble. "Can I take this off?" he murmurs against your lips, waiting for your nod before peeling your top away, bra following. He stares in awe at your bare breasts, palming them gently, rolling nipples between fingers. "So pretty," he breathes, lowering to suck one into his warm mouth, tongue flicking the tip while his hand kneads the other.
• Lays you back on pillows, trailing kisses down your neck, collarbone, sucking faint marks that won't bruise. He unhooks your jeans, sliding them off with your panties, exposing your untouched pussy—pink folds glistening slightly from arousal. "You're already wet for me," he says softly, not mocking, just amazed, parting your thighs with care. His breath ghosts over your clit before his tongue flattens, licking a slow stripe up your slit, savoring your taste. You gasp, and he pauses. "Too much?" Only resuming when you shake your head, then circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, gentle suction drawing whimpers from you.
• He grabs lube from the nightstand—"Just in case," he explains—coating two fingers generously. One dips into your entrance first, shallow thrusts as his mouth returns to your clit, humming vibrations. "Relax, breathe with me," he coaches, free hand stroking your thigh. When you're rocking against his hand, he adds the second finger, scissoring slowly to stretch your tight walls, curling to brush that sensitive spot inside. Your hips buck; he pins them gently. "Feels good? Tell me if you want more or less." He builds you to your first orgasm like this, pussy clenching around his fingers, juices coating his palm as you cry out his name.
• After your first orgasm he kneels up, guiding your hand to his cock—thick, seven inches, silky skin over steel hardness, precum beading at the slit. "Touch me however you want," he encourages, showing you how to stroke from base to tip, thumb swiping the head. Your innocent grip makes him groan low, hips twitching. He teaches you to lick the tip, tongue darting out to taste his salty precum, then taking the head into your mouth. "Just like that—fuck, your mouth is heaven." He doesn't thrust, letting you set the pace, fingers carding through your hair tenderly.
• He positions you on your back, knees drawn up, or suggests you on top for control—"You decide how deep." Lubed cock nudges your folds, sliding through them first to coat himself in your wetness. "Look at me," he says, locking eyes as the head breaches you, inching in slow, pausing at every gasp. Your walls flutter around the intrusion, stretching for his girth. "So tight—breathe, baby, you're doing amazing." Halfway in, he stills completely, kissing you deeply until you relax, then sinks the rest, balls resting against your ass.
• Buried deep, he grinds first, clit rubbing his pubic bone, building pleasure without overwhelming you. Thrusts start shallow, pulling out to the tip before sliding back, letting you feel every ridge and vein dragging your insides. "Does it hurt?" he checks constantly, adjusting angles—finding the one that makes your eyes roll back. His pace stays unhurried, deep rolls of hips hitting your g-spot precisely, one hand interlacing fingers with yours, the other thumbing your clit in circles. Sweat beads on his forehead, long hair falling into his eyes as he watches your face for every reaction.
• Hyunjin prioritizes your orgasms, whispering praises nonstop—"Your pussy feels perfect gripping me," "Cum for me again, let go." When you clench signaling your peak, he angles to grind harder there, free hand pinching your nipple. Your release milks him, walls pulsing; he moans beautifully, but holds back his own. "One more? For me?" Flipping to spoon if you want closeness, arm around your waist, cock slipping back in from behind, hand dipping to rub your clit while nipping your earlobe.
• Only after your second orgasm does he chase his own, thrusts turning firmer but still controlled, balls drawing tight. "Gonna cum inside—okay?" Your nod has him burying deep, cock throbbing as hot spurts flood your pussy, mixing with your cream. He grinds through it, prolonging both highs, until oversensitive twitches make you both shudder. Pulls out slow, watching his cum leak from your puffy hole, thumb gently pushing some back in with a soft, "Gotta keep you full of me."
• He doesn't let go, wrapping you in his arms, kissing tears or sweat from your cheeks. Fetches warm washcloths to clean between your legs tenderly, avoiding soreness. "You were incredible," he murmurs, massaging your thighs, offering water from a bottle he keeps bedside. Cuddles under blankets, your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. He talks softly about how beautiful you looked, how he loves every sound you made, reassuring no regrets.
• Later, spooning with legs tangled, he asks detailed questions—"What felt best? Anything uncomfortable?" Listens intently, promising to improve next time. Draws a bath if you're sore, joining to wash your hair, fingers scalp-massaging shampoo in. Plays your favorite playlist softly, turning it into lazy makeout that doesn't lead to more unless you initiate.
• The day after, he texts good morning with heart emojis, sends care packages—chocolate, pain reliever, your favorite snacks. Plans low-key dates, no pressure for round two. When you do crave more, he's eager but patient, incorporating what you loved from the first time, like extra oral or that specific angle. Builds your confidence, turning your innocence into shared exploration, always making you feel cherished and desired.
Synopsis: Reader is overworked and underfucked...pretty much. She owns a big jewelry company and meets Hyunjin through the industry they both work in(through him being a Versace ambassador).
Tags: !SMUT!, slow burn, yearning on both sides, sexual tension, shy at first, very self-indulgent, flirting, they're both experts in what they do but idiots when it comes to love, eventual smut with switch!reader and switch!hyunjin(they're both filthy stfu)
Smut contains: munching box, p in v(position: face off), spit, hair pulling, little dirty talk, thumb in mouth
Word count: 5,7k
Author's note: this is the last chapter guys! i've marked below where the smut starts in case you dont want to read it! pt2 of a man who yearns is a man who earns will most likely be posted tomorrow during this time let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged there!
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The walk to the parking garage was a blur of heavy silence. Hyunjin had thrown a flannel over a tank top, his hair still messy, dry enough just not to drip. He looked like a man who had just been handed a lifeline, and he wasn't about to let go. As they entered the underground parking lot, his eyes kept darting towards her. Their hands had quietly interlinked while they were in the elevator on the way down, and both of them pretended care way less than they did.
They started walking with their hands held together. “This is nice,” she dared to say quietly. Coincidentally, he was looking at her at exactly that moment, and the way her cheeks got dusted with some pink made him smile like an idiot, ear to ear, nodding enthusiastically, ”Definitely.”
“Would you like me to drive?” he asked gentlemanly as he felt her let go of his hand to get her keys out of her bag as they approached her car.
"I'm driving," she said quickly, dangling the keys to her sleek, matte-black porsche.
"Of course," he rasped and walked with her to her seat to open the driver’s door, but not before laying a light kiss on her knuckles. He slid into the passenger seat as she started the engine.
The city unfolded around them in streaks of gold and steel as she pulled out of the parking lot, the low hum of the engine settling into something steady and controlled—much like her.
Actually, unlike her. Unlike her, in the way her fingers tightened ever so slightly around the wheel whenever she caught him looking at her. Hyunjin didn’t even try to hide it. He sat almost turned toward her in his seat, one arm resting against the door, legs spread, his head tilted just enough to watch her like she was something playing on a screen only he could see. It wasn’t invasive, not in the way she was used to being observed. It was reverent, and that made it worse.
“You’re distracting me, what if I crash?” she said after a few minutes, her tone light, though her grip on the wheel told a different story.
“I trust you,” he replied immediately.
She let out a quiet scoff, eyes still fixed on the road. “That’s not the point.”
“It is,” he murmured, his voice soft but certain. “It’s entirely the point.”
Her jaw flexed slightly as she exhaled through her nose, trying—and failing—to suppress the smile threatening to surface. “You’ve been staring at me.”
“I know.”
“You do it a lot.”
“…and?”
“And I missed you.”
That did it. Her foot eased off the accelerator just slightly—not enough to be noticeable to anyone else, but enough for him to feel the shift.
“We talked earlier,” she said, her voice softer now. He shook his head, his gaze never leaving her. He hummed, nothing else. “And we went out,” she added.
“That wasn’t like this.”
She didn’t ask him to explain because she didn’t trust herself to keep her composure if he did. Besides, she knew what he meant. In the short amount of time they knew each other, she recognized that tone- he knew it was evident that what was going on between them couldn’t be pushed aside any longer. It never could; it was just them trying to fool themselves in the beginning.
Instead, she changed lanes smoothly as the city began to thin out around them. The towering buildings gave way to quieter streets, softer lighting, and a kind of silence that felt more private. It was the kind of quiet that made everything between them feel louder.
“Hyunjin.”
“Yeah?”
“It was a lot.”
The words lingered in the car, fragile but heavy. He straightened slightly, the weight of them settling into his chest. “The sketchbook?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause before he spoke again. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know,” she cut in gently. “That’s exactly why it was fucking terrifying.” He went quiet after that.
She pulled into the underground parking of her building, guiding the car into its usual spot with practiced precision. When the engine cut, the silence that followed felt different—no longer filled with motion, but with something waiting. Neither of them moved to get out.
“I’ve built my entire life on routine, you know, familiarity,” she continued, her voice quieter now, more stripped down than he’d ever heard it. “I rely on knowing exactly what something is worth, what it does, and where it fits.” He watched her carefully, taking in the subtle shifts in her expression.
“And then you,” she exhaled, her fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel, “you handed me something I couldn’t quantify.” He leaned back slightly, giving her the space to keep going.
“You saw things I didn’t know people could see from the beginning,” she said. A small, breathy laugh escaped her, “I don't wanna make this sappy, but-”
“You even paid attention to the way I sit,” she scoffed after saying that. He smiled faintly at that. “And you turned it into something beautiful, so it- I mean it was beautiful in its entirety, just- a lot,” she finished. A quiet pause followed.
“I was scared you’d hate it,” he admitted. She turned to look at him then, really look at him. “I could never hate something that came from you like that.” The way he looked at her in response wasn’t overwhelming or dramatic. It was quiet, grounded, and full of something steady that made her chest tighten.
“Come upstairs,” she said softly.
Her apartment welcomed them in with dim lighting and a kind of intentional silence that felt warm rather than empty. The space was curated but lived-in. Soft fabrics, warm wood, and clean lines gave it structure, but small details—an open book, a half-used candle, a silk throw carelessly draped over the couch—made it unmistakably hers. Hyunjin took it all in slowly, thinking back to the night after the ball. He bent down to glide his hand over her cat- the one he thought she had been cheating on with him. The thought of how dramatic that was made him blush and smile while petting the unexplainably large cat on the couch.
“The place smells like you,” he said without thinking. She paused mid-step and glanced back at him with a raised brow. “And what exactly does that mean?” He hesitated for a moment before answering. “Expensive… and warm.” A quiet laugh slipped past her lips as she kicked off her heels near the entrance. “That’s a dangerous combination.”
“I noticed.”
The tension between them curled again, softer now but still present. She moved toward the kitchen without another word, retrieving a bottle of white wine and two glasses with practiced ease.
“Sit,” she said, nodding toward the living area. He obeyed, though his gaze followed her the entire time. She moved with the controlled precision she always had, just less guarded. When she returned and handed him a glass, she settled onto the couch across from him, creating just enough distance to keep things balanced.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet clink of glass filled the space as they took their first sip. Then she leaned back slightly and asked, “Sooo, when d- you know, like, at what point-” she sighed, defeated.
He didn’t need clarification, but he still wanted to tease, “Are you getting a little nervous?” He giggled at his own teasing while she rolled her eyes with a smile. “Oh, shut up, it's just awkward to talk about stuff like that.” He tilted his head, “It is?” She laughed at his genuine confusion, “Hell yeah, it is,” she exclaimed, making him laugh. “…for me at least.”
“The warehouse,” he answered immediately. “Huh?”
“What, you thought only you could see through people?” She shook her head, “Fair enough, but-” she interrupted herself.
Her lips curved faintly. “That early?”
“You walked in like you own the place,” he said, his eyes steady on hers.
“I do..?”
They both laughed. “That’s not how I meant it, but, like, then you stood in front of me and talked about art like it actually mattered.”
“It does matter.”
“I know,” he replied softly. “That’s why it stayed with me.” She studied him for a moment before asking, “And what about you? When did it start for me?”
“The balcony,” she answered after a beat. “You weren’t performing. You weren’t trying to be anything. You were just… there.” He smiled slightly. “That’s usually when people forget I exist.”
“I didn’t,” she said simply. The silence that followed wasn’t empty anymore; it felt full of something unspoken but understood. “You make it very hard to stay detached,” she admitted quietly.
“Good, I’d hate that,” he said, perhaps a little too quickly. Her eyes flickered with amusement. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to shift the air between them. “I don’t want you detached from me.”
The honesty of it landed heavily, but not uncomfortably. “You say things like that too easily,” she said. “I don’t,” he replied. “Only with you.”
She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she set her glass down and said softly, “Come here.” He moved without hesitation, settling beside her close enough for their knees to brush. He lay his hand across the back of the couch as she leaned into him. For a moment, they just looked at each other.
“You’re looking at me like you’re about to memorize my face,” she murmured. “I have.” She exhaled with a hum, and he felt it on his skin.
“You already have enough references,” she tried, though her voice had softened.
“Not like this,” he said. “Not when you’re looking at me like you want me back.”
That was what broke the last bit of distance between them. Her hand lifted, brushing along his jaw slowly and deliberately.
“You have me,” she said quietly.
He exhaled, like he’d been holding that breath for far too long. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
When he leaned in to kiss her, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was steady, warm, and certain. When their lips collided, it felt final, deepened quickly. His hand came up to cradle her neck while hers slipped into his hair, pulling him closer as if she needed to confirm he was real.
He kissed her like he already knew her his whole life, like every sketch and every moment had led to this. When they pulled back, they didn’t go far.
That made something in her chest shift. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted.
“Neither do I,” he said. She let out a quiet laugh. “That’s reassuring.”
“But I know I don’t want to stop,” he added. She stilled. “Neither do I.”
This time, the silence felt like a choice rather than hesitation. She leaned in first.
And when he kissed her again, deeper now, more certain, the tension between them didn’t disappear—it settled into something steady and alive.
When they finally pulled apart, she rested her head lightly against his shoulder, her hand still curled in the fabric of his flannel.
“Jesus christ, you’re trouble,” she whispered, her eyes scanning his features.
He smiled softly. “You like trouble.”
She shook her head dramatically, “I like control.”
His hand tightened slightly at her waist. “You still have it.”
Her gaze flickered. “Do I?”
“Absolutely,” he leaned in again, going straight for a French kiss. “Show me,” he murmured when he pulled away for a second. “Show me the control you have over me,” his voice low as he curled his hands around her thighs. His fingers flexed over her flesh before lifting her on his lap, straddling him.
She cupped the side of his face, slowly grazing his jawline with her thumb as she hummed into the kiss.
“This is new,” she murmured when she pulled away, his lips following her. He pressed a soft kiss to her hair. “Yeah, it is.”
“Don’t ruin it,” she added quietly. He smiled. “I won’t.”
She tilted her head down to look at him again, her expression still sharp despite the softness in her arched back.
“No dramatic spirals in practice rooms without telling me,” she said. He winced slightly. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“Looked bad enough to me.” He nodded, serious now. “Okay.”
“And I’ll try not to mess with you like that again.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Try?”
She rolled her eyes, though there was a smile there. “Don’t push it.”
He leaned in, brushing his nose lightly against hers. “I like it when you push a little.”
She held his gaze for a long moment before smiling back.
And somewhere between the quiet of her apartment, the half-finished glasses of wine, and the way their hands found each other again without thinking— something settled into place.
It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t finished, but it was real.
And for the first time, it belonged to both of them.
The apartment had settled into a quiet that didn’t feel empty anymore, just full. The kind that lingered after something important had been said, even if neither of them could quite put it into words yet. She shifted first.
Not far—just enough to slide off his lap, her hands trailing briefly along his shoulders as she stood. There was no urgency in it, no awkwardness. Just a soft repositioning, like they were both learning the shape of this new space between them. He watched her go, his gaze following without thinking as she moved toward the kitchen.
Not staring in the way he had been earlier—intense, consuming—but something quieter now. Familiar already, somehow. She didn’t tell him to follow. He did anyway.
---
The kitchen light spilled warm across the countertops as she opened the fridge, pulling things out with a kind of absent focus. Cheese. Fruit. A small jar of honey. It wasn’t planned—it didn’t feel like anything she had decided to do. Just something to fill the space, to ground herself.
Hyunjin leaned against the counter across from her, close enough to be there, not close enough to interrupt. His presence didn’t feel like pressure anymore. It felt placed. Like he belonged in the frame.
She moved with the same precision she always had, but it had softened at the edges, calmer. Strawberries sliced cleanly, lined up without her even realizing she was making them look perfect. He reached out at one point, quietly taking a grape from the edge of the counter. She noticed. Didn’t stop him.
Their movements began to overlap after that. Not coordinated, not spoken—but instinctive. He rinsed what she set aside. She shifted things closer when he reached for them. Their hands brushed once, twice, neither of them pulling away too quickly, neither commenting on it. The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore. It was lived-in.
---
By the time the board came together, it looked like something deliberate, though neither of them had said much while making it. She stood there for a second, looking at it like she was assessing it out of habit.
“Pretty,” she said, smiling at the pretty fruit sliced up and the cheese Hyunjin cut into shapes. She picked it up. He took it without asking, their fingers brushing again in the exchange. This time, she didn’t move her hand right away. Neither did he. Then it passed, naturally, without tension.
---
The living room felt different when they came back. Softer. Not hers. Theirs.
He set the board down on the coffee table, adjusting it slightly. She disappeared down the hallway without explanation, and he didn’t question it. He let himself sink back into the couch instead, his body finally catching up to the day—the exhaustion, the adrenaline, the emotional weight of everything that had just happened. His head tilted back slightly, eyes drifting toward the ceiling for a moment.
Then toward the hallway.
Waiting.
Not impatient.
Just aware of her absence.
---
When she came back, she had changed into something loose, something that didn’t hold her posture the same way. The sharp lines were gone. There was no pause; she unfolded a fluffy blanket and sank next to him. She laid the blanket on their laps and took their wine glasses. Hyunjin leaned and took the charcuterie board to put it in his lap.
No announcement.
Just the quiet shift of fabric, softer footsteps against the floor.
She looked like herself, but unguarded. And somehow, that was more striking than anything else. He didn’t say anything, just watched. Not with the intensity from before, not with that aching need to be seen back—but something steadier.
----------------------------------------
The TV flickered on eventually, casting a low glow across the room. Neither of them paid much attention to what was playing. The sound filled the space, but it wasn’t what held it together.
She reached forward at some point, picking at the board absentmindedly, her movements slower now. He followed, taking something for himself, their rhythm falling into something easy.
Then her shoulder leaned slightly into his, just enough to test it. He didn’t move away. So she didn’t either.
---
Time stretched in a way that didn’t feel measurable. The kind where moments didn’t stack neatly, but blurred together—small shifts, quiet adjustments, the slow building of something that didn’t need to be rushed. His arm moved eventually, settled along the back of the couch behind her again. Then her body shifted again, leaning more fully into his side, closing the gap she had left earlier. His hand found her arm, resting there lightly at first.
Then staying.
---SMUT---
The movie continued playing to an audience that wasn’t watching. The fruit sat half-eaten. The wine glasses were forgotten somewhere behind them. They were too busy with each other. Embarrassing, honestly, how they were on each other like horny rabbits.
He was holdin gon to her waist tightly, kissing her deeply, and suddenly his knee moved. He pressed her down and into his knee that he’d centered to be exactly under her crotch. She understood him immediately and, with arousal clouding her mind, started brushing her clothed pussy on his knee. “Yeah, baby, back and forth, move these hips for me,” he said as he let go of her lips with a filthy wet sound.
She whined and nodded, looking down at herself, moving on top of him while she grabbed his forearms to steady herself, feeling his veins under her finger. He pressed her down even rougher, feeling her warmth on his leg. She gasped at the hardness of his knees, which passed exactly over her clit, “There you go, sweetheart, let me hear you.”
With shaky hands, she reached forward to the obvious dent he had in his baggy pants. She laid one palm on it while the other went to his shoulders to use as leverage. Hyunjin hissed at her touch like he hadn’t even noticed how hard he was, too preoccupied with the view in front of him. “Oh god,” he moaned, all breathy and guteral, his eyes pinned down following the movements of her hips and hands.
His hand moved from her hips to cup her jaw and bring it to him to kiss her again. In the tenderness and saliva the kiss provided her, she felt something sneak from her hips, over her belly button, down her abdomen, and cup her pussy. She felt his long fingers make wave-like movements, so much so that she could feel how wet she was. “Fuck,” she let out and went straight back to his lips to drown out the sounds she was making.
“Baby,” he whimpered as he felt her rubbing him up and down. “Please, can w-, can you lie down?”
She pulled back and just as she opened her mouth, he added, “I’ve wanted to taste you since I laid eyes on you, sweetheart, please,” he said, all desperate, his eyes almost teary. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t want to. She just stood up, and the moment she did, he got on his knees in front of her on the floor. Her hands reached the band of her bottoms, but not before his. “Let me,” he muttered before taking off her pajama shorts and her panties in one movement.
“Fuck.” he said under his breath as he put his hands on her tights, his eyes glued to her. He squeezed her thighs before looking up as he spread them apart while she was still standing up. She whined gently as she felt cold air hit her, “Hyunjin, let me lie d-”
“Just a taste, just once, baby, and you can lie down for me,” he said, his voice deep and out of breath.
He leaned in, hands on either thigh, pulling them apart, and licked a long, slow stripe from her hole to her clit. She exhaled deeply at the feeling. He groaned, furrowing his brows, “God damn, baby.” His hands gently applied pressure on her thighs to direct her to the couch.
She sank down on the couch with no hesitation, spreading her legs and putting her hands behind her hips to hold herself up. He borderline crawled to the one thing he desired most. He sat up on his knees in front of the couch and extended his hands. With one hand, he held and massaged her thigh, with the other, he took two of his fingers and gently spread her apart.
“I know we talk about art all the time, but none of it holds a candle to this right here, baby,” he said, shamelessly watching as her pussy twitched at his words and clenched around nothing. “Fuck,” this pervert kept watching. She turned her head, her cheeks entirely flushed.
He leaned his head down and started laying kisses on the inside of her thighs, “Come on, baby, look at me.” He inched his lips closer, “Wanna see your pretty eyes while I taste you,” he said, his eyes never leaving her face even as he went closer nd closer to her pussy. She finally turned her head, biting her lip to suppress an instinctive whine that was going to come out purely because of the sight in front of her. “There she is, my pretty girl,” he said lastly before dipping his head and licking a few stripes over her entire slit.
“So wet for me, pretty girl,” he said, leaning back an inch so his fingers could pull to uncover her clit. She squirmed, seeing him indulge. He leaned back in and opened his mouth, letting some of his saliva trickle and land on top of her clit. Once he had her somehow even wetter, with his head still ducked, he looked up at her, opened his mouth slightly, and lightly blew over her cunt.
She squirmed, her thighs twitched at the cold sensation of her warm slit, feeling the gush of cold mind. She whined, “Älright, baby, no more of that. I just wanted to watch your reactions for a bit,” he said with a genuine smile, and he stroked her thighs before dipping his face back in.
Now the sensation was the exact opposite, her sensitive clit that had just felt the cold wind got enveloped by his warm plum lips. “F-fuck-” she arched into him as he sucked on her sensitive nub.
The sudden, searing heat of his mouth was a shock to her system, a stark contrast to the cooling air that had just teased her. Hyunjin didn't just kiss her; he engulfed her. His lips formed a tight, velvet seal around her clit, pulling the sensitive nub into the warmth of his mouth with a suction that made her toes curl in the air.
He began to suck with a rhythmic, insistent pressure, his tongue swirling frantically against the most sensitive part of her. The friction was intense, a heavy, wet sliding sensation that sent waves of white-hot electricity radiating from her crotch to the tips of her fingers. Every time he drew her deeper into his mouth, a sharp, needy whine escaped her throat, her hips stuttering in a desperate attempt to meet his mouth.
Hyunjin’s hands were relentless, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs to hold her steady as she bucked. He could taste the salt and the sweetness of her, the slickness of her arousal coating his lips and chin. He increased the tempo, his tongue flicking rapidly against her clit while his suction deepened.
The sensation of his fingers sliding inside her was a sudden, heavy intrusion that made her breath hitch in a jagged sob. He didn't just enter her; he claimed her, his fingers curling upward with a deliberate, rhythmic motion that hooked against her G spot. The friction of his skin against her internal walls, combined with the relentless suction of his mouth on her clit, created a sensory overload that made her head loll back against the couch cushions.
The sound was unmistakable, a thick, squelching, rhythmic slap squish of his fingers working through the deluge of her juices. Every time he withdrew and pushed back in, the air caught the wetness, creating a suction that echoed in the quiet room.
"Hyunjin..." she whimpered, her voice breaking as her hips began to roll in a desperate, uncoordinated dance to keep him inside her.
He let out a low, vibrating growl against her flesh, the sound rumbling through her entire pelvis. He pulled his fingers out just enough to let the air hit the slickness before plunging them back in, the wet, slapping sounds intensifying. "Listen to that," he murmured against her, his voice thick with a possessive need. “So wet n’loud, all for me.”
Hyunjin felt the tremor in her thighs, the way her muscles began to twitch in and out of a rhythm, signaling that she was close. He sensed the tension coiling in her core, a tight, vibrating knot of need that was about to snap.
With a predatory grace, he withdrew his fingers, the wet pop of his exit leaving her feeling momentarily hollow and exposed. Before she could even gasp at the loss, he replaced them with the heavy weight of his tongue. He drove it deep, a long, forceful thrust that mimicked the motion of a cock, burying himself into her heat.
He didn't lick; he worked her with a frantic, driving cadence. His tongue flattened and widened, sweeping upward to hammer against her clit while simultaneously plunging deep into her soaking wet slit. The friction was immense, a heavy, sliding pressure that felt like it was reaching into her very soul.
"Cum for me, pretty girl," he groaned, his voice muffled by her flesh, "Wanna feel you cum on my tongue."
He increased the speed, his nose bumping against her sensitive clit periodically.
As the tempo surged, Hyunjin’s rhythm became feral. Each accidental press sent a fresh jolt of lightning through her, causing her to shudder violently, her pelvic floor spasming uncontrollably as she came with a loud stuttering moan.
He drank her in greedily, his throat working as he swallowed the sweetness of her arousal, his groans turning into guttural, satisfied sounds as he tasted the sheer volume of her release.
She was breathing heavily. Suddenly, the pressure shifted. Instead of staying grounded, Hyunjin’s large hands slid from her thighs to her waist, hooking under her hips with bruising strength. He hoisted her up, lifting her weight with a grunt of effort, and pulled her onto his lap.
She found herself straddling him, her damp, aching center pressed directly against the hard ridge of his zipper. The transition was jarring; the cool air rushed into the space where his face had been, only to be replaced by the scorching heat of his crotch beneath her. She sat heavily against him, her thighs wide to accommodate his frame, her drenched slit smearing her juices against the dark fabric of his pants.
The sound of his zipper was a sharp, metallic rasp in the quiet room, a prelude to the sudden, heavy heat that pressed against her. Hyunjin’s cock sprang free, thick and pulsing, already weeping a bead of pre cum that glistened in the dim light. He didn't plunge in immediately; instead, he began to drag the velvet length along her slit, a slow, agonizingly torturous slide from her pubic bone down to her soaking wet opening.
"You did so good for me, baby... such a good girl," he rasped, his voice a wrecked, low register growl that vibrated against her chest.
As he moved, the head of his cock smeared her own juices across her sensitive folds, the friction creating a searing, sliding heat. Every pass was a heavy drag that made her vision swim. She let out a high, broken moan, her head falling back as her hips instinctively bucked upward to meet him. The sensation was too much, the weight of him, the slickness, the sheer, his hardness rubbing against her swollen, overstimulated clit. He hissed through his teeth at her warmth.
His breath came in ragged, uneven hitches, his chest heaving against hers. The heat radiating from her, the scent of her arousal, was driving him to the brink of madness. He guided her hands, pressing her palms firmly against the hard, corded muscle of his shoulders, anchoring her so she wouldn't slip as he prepared to claim her.
"Listen to me, baby," he commanded, his voice a low, vibrating tremor that seemed to echo in her very bones. "Just hold onto me, I’ll fuck into you so good, just hold on to me."
He positioned himself, the broad, blunt head of his cock pressing firmly against her soaking entrance. He paused for a heartbeat, the tip of him teasing the very edge of her, the friction of his skin against her making her hips quiver in anticipation. Then, with a guttural groan of pure, unadulterated need, he drove forward.
He pushed deep, a slow, heavy invasion that stretched her walls to their limit. The sensation was immense, a thick, filling pressure that seemed to displace everything else in her world. As he buried himself to the hilt, a choked sound escaped his throat, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt the tight, velvet grip of her gummy walls.
The impact of his thrust was a heavy, blunt force that knocked the breath from her lungs, a deep-seated ache that felt both punishing and perfect. His hips slammed into hers with a primal, rhythmic violence that made the couch creak beneath them as he held her down on top of him by her hips. The wet, slapping sound of their bodies meeting a frantic, messy squelch filled the room, punctuating every lunging stroke.
Her fingers drifted from his shoulder, her hand snaking upward to tangle deep into the dark silk of his hair. She gripped the strands tight, tugging his head back to expose the straining line of his throat. As she pulled, a long, broken moan tore from his lips, a sound far more vulnerable than the aggressive thrusts he was delivering.
A wicked, breathless smirk tugged at her lips. “For a man who has such mean, deep thrusts,” she teased, her voice a sultry, trembling a little, “you sure do moan so sweetly when I pull your hair.”
The challenge hit him like a spark to dry tinder. Hyunjin’s eyes were dark and blown wide with lust, a feral man, on the brink of control and being controlled, wrapped one hand around her jaw, the other on her thigh to pull her down onto him. He started pulling out almost all the way just to slam deep inside her with all the force he had.
She felt so full as she moaned as she felt him inch his thumb closer to her mouth. Her lips parted, her tongue darting out to lap at his thumb. She sucked on him with a desperate, hungry intensity, her saliva slicking his skin as she drew him deeper into her mouth. The heat of her breath and the wet pull of her lips sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to Hyunjin’s core. His brain was short-circuiting, his entire body rigid with the effort of holding back, his breath coming in short, jagged bursts.
The friction within her was reaching a fever pitch, the slick, sliding heat of her walls clamping around him in tight spasms. He was so close that the world outside the two of them ceased to exist; there was only the sound of their wet, colliding bodies and the frantic, shallow gasps of air.
"Please," he rasped, his voice breaking, his fingers digging into her thighs so hard he knew he’d leave marks. "Baby, please... I can't... I'm gonna..." He shuddered, his hips jerking in a final, desperate surge. "Let me cum inside you, my love. Please, let me fill you up.”
Her head bobbed in a frantic, desperate nod, her eyes squeezed shut as she surrendered to the tidal wave of sensation. The pressure in her core was unbearable, a tightening coil of electricity that was about to snap.
"Look at me," Hyunjin said, his voice a wrecked, low rasp as he pulled his thumb out of her mouth. "Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me."
She forced her lids open, her vision blurred by tears of pleasure. As her gaze met his, she saw the raw, unshielded devotion in his dark eyes, a look of pure, worshipful hunger. At that exact moment, the world fractured.
A violent, rhythmic spasm gripped her clit and her walls, her orgasm tearing through her in a series of uncontrollable, shuddering pulses. As she arched her back, crying out his name, Hyunjin let out a guttural groan. He drove himself into her one last time, bottoming out with a heavy, final thud, and released himself deep within her.
She felt the hot, pulsing waves of his cum, a thick, internal warmth that seemed to fill her to the very brim.
They stayed, breathless and sweaty, for a while after that. Finally, he stroked her cheek, “All mine, all fuckign mine,” he whispered like a prayer against her. She nodded and gave him a quick peck, making him smile, “All mine,” she said back.
With the confirmation that they were each other’s and each other’s only, they drifted off to sleep.
with the case behind you and your flight home looming, you and hyunjin meet one last time in a quiet detroit bar. what starts as a drink turns into honesty, flirtation, and the kind of choice neither of you can take back. by morning, chicago no longer feels quite as far away.
pairing detective!hyunjin hwang x fbi agent!reader
genre detective au ; angst ; slow burn ; mystery / thriller
chapter rating mature
word count 7k
chapter warnings graphic & detailed smut ; oral sex ; p in v sex ; alcohol consumption
𓄲 and that's all folks. last chapter and oh my god the smut scene is one of my faves! loved this version of hyunjin through and through. gonna go cry in a corner bc i need this man. hope you enjoyed this series and i'll see you in the next one hunnies <3
m a s t e r l i s t ⋆ i n b o x
DATE: January 20, 2026
TIME: 7:26 PM
📍 LOCATION: The Blue Hour Bar
The bar is warmer than it should be for a place with windows this thin.
Not uncomfortably so. Just enough that the cold you carried in from outside starts dissolving from your shoulders the second you step through the door, leaving behind that strange in-between feeling winter creates when your skin still remembers the street but the air around you has already decided to be kind. It’s the kind of place that seems to survive on habit more than trend. Dark wood, dim amber lights, a jukebox in the corner playing something low and old enough not to demand attention, a row of bottles catching gold behind the counter. There’s nothing polished about it, which is probably why it feels easier to breathe here.
Hyunjin is already inside.
He’s seated at the far end of the bar, one elbow resting against the counter, a short glass untouched in front of him like he’s been looking at it longer than he’s been drinking it. Even before he notices you, your eyes catch on him immediately. Maybe because there are fewer places to hide in a room like this. Maybe because he looks different when he’s not wearing the shape of the precinct around him.
The bruise at his jaw has darkened, a shadowed bloom just beginning to yellow at the edge. His knuckles still look roughed up where Reese’s face met bone. He traded his coat for a black sweater that softens him nowhere except in the places it shouldn’t, and his hair falls more loosely tonight, less controlled than usual, as if he gave up trying to make it obey after showering and let that count as enough. He’s not relaxed, not fully, but the alertness in him has changed texture. Less sharp now. More tired. More human.
Then he looks up. And the second he sees you, something in his face settles into a warmth so slight most people would miss it. Most people.
You make your way over, shedding your gloves and scarf as you go, and he stands before you reach him, one hand already catching the back of the stool beside his.
“You made it,” he says.
You arch a brow. “Were you doubting me?”
“No.” His mouth shifts. “Just Detroit traffic.”
You slide onto the stool, close enough now to catch the clean scent of cologne and body wash still clinging to him beneath whatever the bar is burning into the room. “That’s better.”
He sits again, angling toward you without seeming to think about it.
There’s a beat where neither of you says much. The bartender appears, takes your order, disappears again. Around you, glasses clink, someone laughs too loudly two booths back, and the game playing silently on the TV over the bar goes unwatched by nearly everyone in the room.
It should feel ordinary. It does, mostly. Except for the way everything between you and Hyunjin feels newly visible now that there isn’t a suspect to chase, a scene to process, a report to finish, a reason to look away every time something warmer than professionalism rises too close to the surface.
You glance at his jaw. “Does it hurt?”
His fingers brush the bruise like he hadn’t realized you’d notice it first. “Not enough to be interesting.”
“That sounds like a detective answer.”
“It is one.”
“You could try honesty.”
He looks at you over the rim of his glass, eyes dark in the low light. “It hurts like hell.”
There it is. And because he says it that way, without fuss or performance, you find yourself smiling despite the ache that sits quietly under the whole evening.
“See,” you murmur. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“You’re very committed to my self-improvement.”
“You’re welcome.”
His laugh this time is real, low and brief, but real enough that something in your chest loosens around it.
The drinks arrive. Yours first, then his refreshed one. The bartender gives Hyunjin one of those looks that suggests he’s been here enough for this to qualify as a pattern, and Hyunjin receives it with the mild resignation of a man who knows exactly how often his face gets remembered before his order does.
You wrap your fingers around your glass, letting the cool condensation gather against your skin. For a while you both speak in easier things. The warrant execution at Reese’s apartment. The evidence haul. The fact that they found more than anyone wanted and less than anyone can morally survive knowing existed at all. A receipt trail. Two more items belonging to women in old case photos. A storage unit key. Route notebooks with handwritten notations no normal freight driver needed to keep.
The case is over in the way cases are over when the living man is caught and the dead are not brought back by it.
“CSU matched the card holder formally this morning,” Hyunjin says after a while, gaze drifting down to the amber in his glass. “Minji’s coworker was right.”
You nod slowly.
There are names between you now, where before there had been only patterns. Minji. The woman in Toledo, Chen Mei. The one in Chicago, Maria Guzman. The Detroit victim, Yasmin Hassan, from eighteen months ago whose mother apparently still answered unknown numbers in case they turned out to matter. Victims becoming people again, piece by painful piece, now that the man who took them can no longer rely on distance.
You look at the shelves behind the bar instead of at him for a second. “I keep thinking about how close he was to doing it again.”
Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. When he does, his voice is quieter. “I know.”
You take a sip of your drink and let the warmth settle slowly. “At least he won’t.”
His fingers turn the glass once against the bar, thoughtful. “No.”
A pause follows that, one of the heavier ones. The kind that belongs to people who have seen enough in too short a time that silence starts feeling less like absence and more like respect.
Then, softly, you say, “You were good with them.”
He glances over. “Who?”
“The victims.” Your eyes meet his. “The whole time.”
Something shifts in his expression at that. Not surprise exactly, because he knows how he works. More like discomfort at being seen in a place he never intended to put on display.
“They deserved that,” he says.
“They did.”
He looks back at his drink. “A lot of people say that after. Not many mean it while the case is open.”
There is no bitterness in the words, which somehow makes them hit harder. You wonder, not for the first time, how many quiet disappointments a man has to absorb before he starts speaking about them that gently.
The bartender changes the music. Something slower now, warm guitar under low voices. Across the room, two men in Tigers caps argue over a game statistic with enough intensity to suggest the matter should go before a judge.
You find yourself watching Hyunjin’s hands.
You’ve spent days watching those hands do practical things. Turn files. pin evidence photos. steady your elbow when the alley wouldn’t stop tilting. Catch a knife before it found the wrong place. Tonight they rest around a glass like they finally belong to a man instead of a case, and that somehow makes them more dangerous.
He notices, because he notices everything.
“What?” he asks.
You lift your gaze back to his face, too slow to qualify as innocent. “Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Maybe,” you say, a little too easily. “Depends on what you think I’m lying about.”
He studies you for a second, and there it is again, that warmth creeping in around the edges of his reserve now that he no longer has a reason to fight it so hard.
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
You smile into your drink. “And you keep noticing.”
He tips his head. “It’s my job to notice things.”
“That must get exhausting.”
“Only around you.”
You glance up at him then, slow, deliberate. “Careful,” you say. “You keep doing that, I’m going to think you like me.”
His eyes darken just slightly. “That ship may have sailed.”
For a second the room changes around the sentence.
You angle toward him more fully on the stool. “May have?”
“I’m still a detective,” he says. “I hedge.”
“You’re off duty.”
“That’s not how personality works.”
“Convenient excuse.”
A smile touches his mouth, then fades into something softer. “Maybe.”
Your flight is tomorrow morning.
The thought has been sitting at the edge of the evening ever since you walked in, an unspeaking third presence between you, and eventually it has to be acknowledged. There is no elegant way around it.
You trace the rim of your glass once with your thumb. “I leave tomorrow.”
He nods, not looking away this time, which almost makes it worse. “I know.”
There’s disappointment in him. Controlled, quiet, but there. Enough that it answers something in you before you even decide what question you were asking.
“Shame,” you say lightly, because some instincts are stronger than vulnerability. “You were just starting to get interesting.”
That earns you another of those low laughs, but it doesn’t fully hide what still lingers underneath.
“And you’re impossible,” he says.
You lift a shoulder. “Yet here you are.”
“Yet here I am.”
It would be very easy, in a moment like this, to let things drift toward the sentimental. The case is closed enough to breathe. You are both tired enough for honesty to come looser than usual. The lighting is kind. The bar forgiving. But what sits between you has never really belonged to soft clichés. It has always been sharper than that. More deliberate.
So when you speak again, it comes out clean. “You’d do good in Chicago.”
That makes him blink.
“The FBI needs more people like you,” you continue, holding his gaze now. “People who actually see what matters. People who don’t flatten victims into evidence the second things get complicated. People who don’t let a room get lazy just because it’s easier.”
The joking ease in his face shifts, giving way to something more thoughtful. He looks down at his glass for a second, then back at you.
“Is this you recruiting me?”
“It might be.”
“You usually recruit people in bars?”
“Only the promising ones.”
His mouth curves at that, but he’s thinking now too. You can tell. Not just about the Bureau. About what you’re really saying under it. About the possibility of movement. Of change. Of a city beyond this one. Of someone who has now looked at him in more than one room and kept choosing Hyunjin anyway.
“I don’t know if I’m built for the FBI,” he says after a moment.
“I don’t know if the FBI is built for you,” you reply. “But that’s not the same thing.”
His eyes flicker. That landed exactly where you meant it to.
For a second he says nothing. Just watches you with that infuriatingly steady gaze, the one that makes it seem like he’s standing very still when in reality he’s moving through every possible meaning of a thing before he lets himself answer it.
Then, with the faintest return of humor warming the edges of his mouth, he says, “I’d go if it were you needing someone like me.”
You stare at him.
There it is. The line neither of you had crossed yet, set down between you in his quiet voice like it had been waiting there all evening, maybe longer. Not a grand confession. Not a performance. Just him, finally choosing directness where he usually lives in careful implication.
He must see the answer in your face before you move, because something in him stills completely.
You set your glass down, slide off the stool, cross the small, charged space between you, and kiss him.
There’s no hesitation in it. No tentative testing of whether this is allowed now that the case is over. You already know the answer to that. Your hand comes up lightly to his jaw, fingers brushing the bruise there before settling at the side of his face, and his breath catches just once before he kisses you back.
He kisses the way he does everything else when it finally matters enough to stop pretending it doesn’t. Deeply attentive. Controlled for about half a second, then less so. Both hands finding your waist with a grip that is warm and certain and almost disbelieving.
He tastes like whiskey and mint and the kind of restraint that has spent days gathering pressure.
When you pull back, it’s only far enough to breathe.
His forehead touches yours. His hands are still at your waist, thumbs shifting once against the fabric of your blouse like he hasn’t quite convinced himself you’re real and here and choosing this.
“Well,” he says softly, voice rougher now. “That’s one answer.”
You smile, breath still uneven. “You ask dangerous questions, Detective Hyunjin Hwang.”
He closes his eyes for one brief second at the sound of his full name in your mouth, then opens them again and looks at you like that may, in fact, be the end of him.
“I think I liked you before that,” he murmurs.
“Before I kissed you?”
“Before you made my entire identity your personal cause.”
You laugh, quiet and helpless this time, and his expression shifts with it, the warmth in him no longer hidden at all now that there’s no point trying.
“That was very noble of me,” you say.
“Very aggressive too.”
You hum and kiss him again because he clearly hasn’t learned enough yet, shorter this time, no less certain. He makes a sound against your mouth that feels dangerously close to a laugh and something more at once.
When you finally settle back onto your stool, the bar seems changed in only the ways that matter. The lights softer. The room smaller. The distance between your knees and his no longer accidental.
Your flight still leaves tomorrow.
That truth hasn’t gone anywhere. It waits there, patient and inconvenient. But now it no longer feels like a quiet ending pressing in on the evening. More like a question the night hasn’t answered yet.
Hyunjin picks up his glass again, though he doesn’t drink right away. He looks at you over the rim of it, bruised and tired and beautiful in that unfair way of his, and says, “Chicago, huh?”
You tilt your head. “Thinking about it?”
“Definitely thinking about it now.”
You let out a laugh. “Good.”
His gaze lingers on your mouth for a second longer than necessary before returning to your eyes.
The look of it settles low in your stomach, warm and heavy and impossible to misunderstand now that neither of you is bothering to pretend anymore.
You tilt your head slightly, studying him over the rim of your glass. “Do you want to go back to my hotel for a nightcap?”
The question lands exactly the way you intend it to—clear enough that whatever small room the word nightcap gives the truth to hide in disappears almost immediately.
Hyunjin’s expression changes by degrees.
First surprise, though not because you asked. More because you asked without hesitation, without trying to soften it into something safer. Then something darker, warmer, threading beneath it, a flicker of want that had been kept in careful check all evening and now has no reason to be subtle. His fingers tighten once around his glass before he sets it down.
“A nightcap,” he repeats.
You hum, the corner of your mouth lifting. “That’s what I said.”
He leans in just slightly, close enough that you catch the exact shape of his next breath before he speaks.
“I think we both know,” he says softly, “what happens if I go back to your hotel.”
The low steadiness of it sends another pulse of heat through you. Not because the statement is especially bold. Because it’s him saying it, the same man who spent days speaking with such careful precision that every feeling had to be coaxed into daylight one inch at a time. Now the restraint is still there, but it’s changed shape. Less shield. More tension pulled taut.
You hold his gaze. “Yes,” you say.
A beat passes. Then another. Neither of you looks away.
Hyunjin lets out the smallest breath, almost a laugh and not one at all, and reaches for his coat. “Then I should probably pay my tab.”
You smile into your drink. “That would be the wise thing to do.”
“I’m trying not to ruin your opinion of me too quickly.”
“That ship may have sailed.”
His mouth curves at that, and there’s something boyish in it for half a second before it’s swallowed again by the low, dangerous awareness humming between you.
The winter air bites hard when you step outside, but it barely registers. Hyunjin’s hand lands at the small of your back as you make your way down the sidewalk, practical at first, almost absentminded.
“Your self-control is very impressive,” you murmur as you both walk the few blocks to your htoel.
He glances over, eyes dark in the passing wash of streetlamps. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Make this harder.”
You let that sit there for a second, then say, with great care, “I could.”
His laugh comes out low and disbelieving. “I know you could.”
By the time the hotel comes into view, you’re both a little too aware of every small thing. The brush of his hand at your back again as you walk through the lobby. The elevator ride where neither of you speaks because speaking would probably tip the whole balance into something even more dangerous too early. The mirrored walls throwing your reflections back at you, his tall frame drawn tight with restraint, your mouth still pink from the bar and smiling despite yourself every time you catch him looking.
When the elevator doors open, you don’t even remember deciding who moves first.
Only the hallway passing in a blur of patterned carpet and soft yellow light, your keycard almost slipping once in your hand because Hyunjin is too close behind you. His front is pressed to your back, one hand at your waist, his lips already descending on your neck as you fumble with the lock, both of you laughing under your breath at nothing and everything and the sheer unbearable edge of finally being here.
The door clicks open.
You barely make it inside before he’s kissing you again.
The door swings shut behind you with a dull thud and then you’re moving backward into the room, his hands finding you like he’s been thinking about it longer than either of you admitted, yours already in his hair, his coat half sliding from one shoulder because neither of you has the patience to remove anything properly.
It’s messy immediately. Hungry in a way that makes neatness irrelevant.
Your scarf catches briefly on his sleeve and has to be tugged free with breathless laughter against his mouth. His hand skims up your side and then back down again like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you first because every place feels suddenly necessary. You kiss him harder, and he answers in kind, backing you toward the bed with a kind of reverent desperation that makes your chest ache.
That’s the thing that surprises you, even now.
The want in him is obvious. Hotter now, pulsing through every kiss and every rough little exhale against your mouth. The erection pressed against your stomach, visible even through layers of clothing. But beneath it, woven into it, there’s awe.
Like he’s trying to memorize you even while he’s losing patience with the distance between your bodies.
You feel it in the way his hands move over you. They wander with hunger, yes, but also with something quieter, almost disbelieving in its tenderness, skimming the line of your waist, the curve of your shoulder, your throat, your back, like every inch of you is being discovered in real time and refused the indignity of being rushed past.
You pull his sweater half up and he helps you drag it over his head, the fabric catching for a second at his shoulders before it’s gone and dropped somewhere unimportant on the floor. The sight of him steals the next breath right out of you.
Not because you didn’t know he’d be beautiful like this. Because you did.
Because he has carried beauty with him into every crime scene, every fluorescent-lit office, every cold street corner, whether the world around him deserved it or not. But here, in the soft gold light of the hotel room with his hair tousled and his jaw bruised and his firm chest rising and falling under your stare, the tapering of his lean waist…it feels almost unfair in its intimacy.
His mouth brushes yours once, twice, slower now.
When he speaks, his voice is rough. “What?”
You smile, fingertips sliding over the bruise at his jaw with impossible gentleness. “Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Maybe.”
He lets out a breath that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, then kisses you again before you can get any smugger about it. This time the kiss deepens almost immediately, the kind that makes the rest of the room fall away until there’s only the warmth of him, the taste of him, the push and pull of mouths already learning each other with startling speed.
Your coat disappears. Then his belt catches on the edge of your sleeve and both of you break apart long enough to fix it with eager hands. You stumble together until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and the bed gives under the sudden shared weight of you collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs and winter clothes and too much want to manage gracefully.
Hyunjin braces himself above you for half a second, just long enough to look.
His hair falls forward a little, shadowing his eyes, and the expression on his face undoes something soft and private in you. All that hunger still there, unmistakable now. But also wonder.
You kiss him more slowly then, if only for a moment, and he follows without resisting, the rush of the night softening at the edges into something deeper, no less desperate for being gentler. His mouth traces the line of yours like he’s learning it. Your fingers move through his hair, down the nape of his neck, and the shiver that runs through him feels less like victory than invitation.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs against your mouth.
The words are simple, but the care in them lands everywhere.
“I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper.
He exhales and then it’s hands, mouths, fabric, breath. The slow drag of his palm over your thigh through your clothes, slow enough to make you arch into it. Your fingers find the warmth of his bare skin and learn how quickly he reacts when you touch him with intention. The way his name falls from your mouth half-broken one minute and deliberate the next, and how every time it does, he looks a little less like a man in control and a little more like someone standing willingly in the path of his own undoing.
You make out like people trying to bridge days of restraint in one night.
Messily. Repeatedly. With the kind of urgency that keeps interrupting itself because neither of you can quite decide whether to rush or worship.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the line of your throat, and every touch seems to carry equal parts hunger and disbelief. When your hands slide over his shoulders, down his back, he makes a low sound against your skin that is so unguarded it feels like a gift.
You reach for him before self-consciousness can even think about finding a place in the room.
“Come here,” you whisper.
And he does immediately. Like there was never any other answer.
When his weight settles over you again, careful despite the urgency in him, the room feels impossibly quiet around the sounds you’re making together. Your breathing. The rustle of sheets.
His forehead rests briefly against yours between kisses, both of you breathing hard.
Your fingers brush his cheek. He turns and kisses your palm, the tenderness of it nearly undoes you more than any of the rest.
“Hyunjin,” you murmur.
His eyes close for a second, like your saying it still affects him in places he hasn’t learned how to hide from. Then he opens them and leans back.
His hands begin to move. They slide down your sides, over the curve of your hips, and back up to the hem of your blouse. He undoes the buttons with a slow, focused precision that feels obscene. Each pop of a button freeing fabric feels like a release of tension. He pushes the material aside, exposing your bra—the plain, black, practical cotton suddenly erotic under his gaze. His palms cup your breasts through the fabric, his thumbs circling your nipples until they peak into hard points. You arch into his touch, a moan escaping into his mouth.
“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice a rough, low thing that vibrates through your bones. “Every day, in that office. I wanted to see you. All of you.”
He unhooks your bra, the fabric sliding down, exposing your breasts. They spill out, the skin flushed. He lowers his head and takes one nipple into his mouth. His lips close around it, warm and wet, and he suckles, drawing the sensitive flesh into a tighter bud. The sensation is sharp, sweet, radiating out through your chest and down to your core. Your hands fly to his hair, gripping the dark, silky strands as he switches to the other breast, lavishing it with the same devoted attention. His tongue flickers over the tip, then laps at the underside, tracing the swell. You’re panting, your hips shifting restlessly beneath him.
He moves lower. His hands work at the fastener of your skirt, then the zipper. He drags the garment down your legs, leaving it tangled at your ankles. Your thong is simple, black cotton. He runs a finger along the edge, over the damp patch already darkening the center. A shudder runs through you.
“Look at you,” he says, almost whispering. He hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and pulls them down, too. They join the skirt at your feet before he drags both of them off completely. You’re naked now, sprawled under him on the hotel’s generic comforter, exposed in the soft light. He kneels between your legs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.
Your pussy is exposed to him, puffy and flushed from anticipation. Lips plump and a deep rose color, parted slightly to show the glistening folds, already slick with your own arousal. Your clit is a prominent, eager bead beneath its hood. He stares, his own breathing becoming heavier.
“So beautiful,” he breathes. Then he lowers himself.
He doesn’t dive in. He starts with his hands, spreading you wider with his thumbs. He strokes the outer lips, then traces the inner ones, feeling their silky, wet texture. He circles your entrance, dipping a fingertip just inside, making you gasp. Then he replaces his finger with his mouth.
He kisses your mound first, a soft press of his lips against your pubic bone. Then he moves lower, nuzzling into the skin, then finally, his mouth finds your center. His lips close over you entirely, a warm, encompassing seal. You cry out, your back lifting off the bed.
His tongue finds your clit then. He doesn’t flick it. He presses the flat of his tongue against it, a firm, steady pressure that sends a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. He holds it there, letting the sensation build, then begins to move. He laps at you, long, languid strokes that coat his tongue with your flavor—musky, sweet, uniquely yours. He explores every part: the sensitive sides of your inner lips, the small stretch of skin below your slit, then back to the throbbing center of your need.
He slips his tongue inside you—a shallow penetration, but the feeling of his muscle, slick and warm, sliding into your soaked channel is overwhelming. He works it in and out, a mimicry of what’s to come, and you feel your inner walls clench around it, hungry for more. Your hips rock, seeking more pressure, more contact.
He adds a finger. One, then two. They slide into you, filling you more substantially, as his tongue focuses on your clit. Your pussy stretches around his digits, the walls gripping tight, then relaxing as he pushes deeper. He finds a rhythm, his tongue dancing over your clit while his fingers plunge inside you, curling upward to press against the front wall. He’s searching, and he finds it—a rougher, textured patch that makes your whole body jolt when he rubs over it.
“There?” he asks, his voice muffled against your flesh.
You can only nod, your head thrashing back against the pillow. He focuses on that spot, rubbing his fingers over it relentlessly while his tongue maintains its steady, maddening pressure on your pulsing nub. The dual assault is too much. Pleasure coils in your belly, tight and hot, threatening to burst. You’re moaning continuously now, a stream of sound that fills the room. Your thighs tremble around his head. You’re drenched, his chin slick with your fluids, the sheets beneath you growing damp.
You want to come. The urge is a screaming need in your blood. But you want something else first. You want him.
With a force that surprises him, you push at his shoulders. He looks up, his face gleaming, his eyes black with desire. “No,” you say, your voice husky. “I need you.”
You scramble, reversing positions. You push him back onto the bed, his body sprawling. You straddle his hips, looking down at him. His cock is already straining against his slacks, a thick, impressive outline. You work at his belt, your fingers clumsy with urgency. The buckle opens. The button pops. The zipper rasps down.
You pull his pants and boxers down together, freeing him.
His cock springs up, fully erect, a stunning piece of anatomy. It’s long, the shaft a smooth, hard column with a slight upward curve. The head is a darker, flushed red, bulbous, a smooth dome. A prominent vein runs along the underside, pulsing with his heartbeat. His balls are drawn up tight, a heavy sack nestled beneath the base. You stare, a wave of pure, carnal want crashing over you.
You lean down and take him into your mouth without preamble.
You start at the tip, kissing the broad head, tasting the faint, clean salt of his skin. Then you open your lips and sink down, taking as much of the shaft as you can. Your mouth stretches around his girth, a delicious, challenging fullness. You pull back, then slide down again, establishing a rhythm. Your tongue swirls around the head, especially the sensitive frenulum on the underside, a ridge of flesh that makes his hips buck when you press there.
You use your hands, one cradling the base of his shaft, the other cupping his balls, feeling their weight and heat. You massage them gently as you suck him, looking up at his face. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent groan. His hands are fists clenched in the comforter.
You deepen your efforts. You take him all the way, until the head presses against the back of your throat. You relax, letting him slide deeper, then pull back with a wet, sucking sound. You repeat this, over and over, your cheeks hollowing, your jaw working. Saliva pools in your mouth, mixing with the pre-cum that begins to seep from him, a clear, slick fluid with a subtle, musky taste. You let it coat your tongue.
You vary the pace. Slow, deep draws that make his whole body tense. Then quick, shallow bobs focused on the head. You release him entirely and use your tongue to lick him from root to tip, like you’re savoring an ice cream cone, which draws a choked laugh from him. Then you engulf him again, your head bobbing faster.
“Fuck,” he grits out. “Your mouth…fuck, baby.”
He’s fully hard now, a rigid, heated bar of flesh. You’ve blown his mind, just as you wanted. You feel a powerful sense of control, of ownership. You’ve reduced the sharp, brilliant detective to a trembling, pleasure-wrecked man.
He reaches for his wallet, discarded on the nightstand. He fumbles it open, pulls out a condom, and hands it to you, his fingers shaking.
You take it and sit up, straddling his thighs, tearing open the foil. You roll the latex down his shaft, your movements slow and obscene. You use both hands, smoothing it over his length, ensuring it’s snug at the base. The sight of his cock, sheathed in transparent latex, gleaming with your saliva, is intensely erotic. He watches you, his gaze feverish.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice ragged.
You don’t answer. You move. You turn, presenting your back to him, and get onto your hands and knees. The position arches your back, pushes your ass out toward him. Your breasts hang, swaying slightly with the motion. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly powerful.
He doesn’t hesitate. He moves behind you, his hands gripping your hips. One hand slides up your back, then down to grasp a handful of your ass cheek. He squeezes, the flesh plump and yielding under his grip. He spreads you revealing your soaked, waiting entrance.
He guides himself, the head of his cock presses against your opening. You feel the pressure, the promise of invasion. Then he pushes in.
The initial penetration is a slow, burning stretch. Your cunt, already swollen and sensitized from his mouth, yields to him, the inner walls parting around the broad head. He sinks deeper, inch by inch, the shaft filling you completely. You feel every detail—the curve of him pressing against your walls, the firm, unyielding hardness of him, the stretch at your entrance as your lips are pushed wide around his girth.
He’s fully inside you now, buried to the base. He holds there, both of you motionless, feeling the profound connection. Your body clutches around him, a tight, hot fist.
He breathes out, a long, shaky sigh. Then he moves.
He pulls back, almost all the way out, then drives back in. The thrust is firm, measured. The sound of his hips meeting your ass is a soft slap of flesh. He sets a pace—not frantic, but deep, purposeful. Each withdrawal makes you ache for the return. Each plunge sends a wave of pleasure radiating out from your core.
Your body responds. Your breasts swing forward and back with each thrust, a rhythmic bounce that he watches, head tilted to the side to see better. Your ass bounces against his pelvis, the impact sending a ripple through the flesh. You can feel him sliding within you, the friction creating a delicious, building heat.
He changes his angle, leaning over you, which drives his cock deeper, hitting that spot his fingers found earlier. A sharp cry tears from your throat. He grunts, feeling it too.
“Right there,” you pant. “Right fucking there.”
He obliges. He adjusts his stance, gripping your hips harder, and pounds into you with focused precision, each thrust aimed at that sensitive patch. The pleasure escalates from a steady burn to a raging fire. Your thoughts fragment. You’re just sensation—the slap of his body against yours, the stretch and glide inside you, the sweat dripping down your spine, the smell of sex filling the air.
He talks, his voice a rough stream against your ear. “You take me so good. So deep. I can feel you gripping me, pulling me in. You’re soaked, for me. I can feel it through the condom. God, you’re perfect.”
His words fuel you. You push back against him, meeting his thrusts, increasing the force. The bed creaks beneath you. Your arms tremble from holding the position, but you don’t care. You want more.
After a while—minutes that feel like hours of this deep, rhythmic fucking—he pulls out. You gasp at the sudden emptiness. You’re panting, your skin flushed, your hair a mess on the pillow.
He lies back, and you climb atop him, straddling his waist. You take his cock in your hand and guide it back to your entrance. You sink down onto him, this time controlling the penetration.
The feeling is different. You’re upright, your weight pushing him deeper into you. You can control the angle, the depth. You start slow, rocking forward and back, letting him slide in and out at a leisurely pace, your breasts right in his face.
He doesn’t hesitate. He reaches up and takes them in his hands, then his mouth. He suckles one nipple while massaging the other, his attention divided between the two. The dual stimulation—his cock filling you, his mouth on your breast—is overwhelming. You moan, your movements becoming more deliberate.
You rise almost all the way off him, then sink back down, taking him fully. You do this again, establishing a rolling, grinding rhythm. Your inner walls rub against his shaft with each motion, the friction exquisite.
He releases your breast and looks up at you. His face is a mask of raw need. “So gorgeous, baby,” he says. “Riding me. Using me. Fuck, I’ve never seen anything sexier.”
You increase your pace, bouncing on him now, your thighs working. Each descent sends a jolt through you. Your clit, neglected for a while, grinds against the base of his shaft with each downstroke, awakening a new layer of sensation. You’re climbing again, that tight coil in your belly winding to a unbearable peak.
He feels it too. His hands grip your ass, helping guide your movements. His hips buck up to meet your downstrokes, driving him even deeper. The pace becomes frantic, a syncopated pounding of flesh. The room is filled with the sounds: your mutual groans, the wet slap of sex, the bedframe’s protest.
Your orgasm approaches like a train, undeniable. It starts as a tremor in your thighs, then a tightening in your stomach. Your pussy begins to clench around him in rapid, involuntary pulses. The pleasure focuses on your clit, a blinding, white-hot point, then explodes outward.
You come with a scream that’s ripped from your chest. “Hyunjin! Oh fuck. Yes! Oh my God!”
Your body convulses around him, your inner walls milking his shaft. Your vision blurs. Every nerve is aflame with release. You collapse forward onto his chest, still impaled on him, shuddering through the aftermath. The hypersensitivity is immediate—every movement of his cock inside you is almost too intense, a sharp, sweet overstimulation.
He’s not done. He holds you, his arms wrapping around you, as he continues to thrust upward into your spasming body. His own climax is building, his movements becoming harder, more desperate. He’s chasing it, using your sensitized, pliant body to reach his peak.
With a final, deep grind upward, he finds it. He groans, a deep, guttural sound that vibrates through his chest into yours.
“Fuuuuck.”
His body tenses, his back arching off the bed. You feel him swell inside you, then the rhythmic pulses of his release through the condom. He holds you tight, his face buried in your neck, as he empties himself.
For a long moment, neither of you moves. You’re both breathing in ragged, broken harmony. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and spent passion. His cock, still inside you, begins to soften. The condom, filled now, presses against your walls.
He finally shifts, gently pulling out. The sensation is a slow, slick separation. You roll off him, lying beside him on the bedspread. Your body feels used, glorious, every muscle loose and warm.
He slips the condom off and ties it, tossing it into the trashcan near the bedside table and collapses onto his back next to you. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining.
The case is closed. The tension is spent. But in this quiet, humid room, something new has just opened.
Later, when the room has gone quiet except for the softened hum of the heater and the distant murmur of traffic far below the window, you lie with your head on Hyunjin’s chest and listen to his heartbeat settle into something steadier beneath your ear.
The sheets are now pulled up around you and the whole room carries that warm, lived-in disarray left behind by a night that stopped trying to be tidy a long time ago. His fingers move idly against your bare shoulder, tracing nothing you can name, just the slow absentminded touch of someone who still seems quietly amazed you’re here to touch at all.
For a while neither of you says much.
You feel him breathe in, deeper this time, like he’s arrived at a thought and is deciding whether to let you have it.
“I’ll look into Chicago,” he says at last, his voice low enough that it seems to belong more to the room than to either of you.
You lift your head just enough to look at him.
He’s staring at the ceiling when he says it, one hand still resting at your back, expression softer now than you’ve seen it maybe ever. Not guarded exactly. Just unhidden.
“You will,” you murmur.
His mouth curves faintly. “I said I would think about it.”
“That’s already close enough for me.”
He glances down at you then, and whatever reply he had seems to shift when your eyes meet. Something a little more uncertain moves through his face, so brief and boyish it almost doesn’t look like it belongs to the same man who tackled a serial killer into the snow.
Then, almost shyly, he asks, “What’s the FBI’s policy on dating coworkers?”
⤷ part of the weight of love: eight ways to STAY series
chrysanthemums are flowers of patience and enduring love, often tied to devotion that deepens over time rather than demanding to be seen all at once
loving you is easy; being trusted by your twins is the part hyunjin handles with careful hands and a patient heart. as haein pulls him closer and seorin keeps him at arm’s length, they both learn that trust is not given all at once, but built slowly, until it feels like it was always there
pairing hwang hyunjin x single mom!reader
genre slow burn, angst, step-dad core?
rating mature, 18+
word count 16.4k
warnings themes of divorce ; mentions of medical emergency / injuries (no detailed descriptions) ; scenes of children in distress ; graphic & detailed smut ; p in v sex
𓄲 third installation of this mega series. guys i don't even question why or how i get to over 10k anymore. just know, i try my hardest to immerse y'all <3 step-daddy hyunjin has my heart fr. i love him with my whole entire being. tell me if you clock the daddy skz code episode reference with hyun! as always enjoy, hunnies!
m a s t e r l i s t ⋆ i n b o x
You marry Jiho in a pressed white shirt that never quite fits him right and a rented suit jacket that smells faintly of starch and someone else’s cologne.
He is nineteen. You are nineteen. Haein and Seorin are only a few months old, bundled in your mother’s arms and your mother-in-law’s arms, passed between relatives with careful hands and damp eyes and too many comments about blessings arriving early. Everyone tells you how beautiful this is. How lucky. How full your life is already. There is a pastor speaking softly at the front of the chapel and a row of folding chairs filled with people who have already decided the shape your future should take.
For a while, it stays tender enough to survive on routine.
There are midnight feedings and laundry baskets and cheap takeout balanced on the coffee table in the first apartment you can afford. Jiho picks up extra shifts. You learn how to quiet two crying babies with one pair of arms and a prayer so exhausted it sounds like a threat. Some nights you fall asleep sitting up. Some mornings he leaves before sunrise and kisses your forehead on the way out, gentle enough that you almost believe this is still romance and not just muscle memory dressed in devotion.
Haein is the easier one from the beginning. He arrives in the world red-faced and furious, then turns into a boy made entirely of sunlight. He laughs with his whole body. He reaches for people without hesitation. He trusts first and asks questions later. Even as a toddler, he would run toward life with both hands open.
Seorin watches.
That is who she is before she can even speak in full sentences. She watches. She notices the scrape in your voice when you tell Jiho dinner is in the fridge. She notices the nights he comes home and goes straight to the shower without asking how your day went. She notices the way you stand side by side in the kitchen without touching, two people sharing a room instead of a life.
One night, the twins are asleep in their room and Jiho is sitting at the edge of the couch with his elbows on his knees, staring at the television without seeing any of it. The living room light is off. The only glow comes from the muted screen, washing him in pale colors that make him look ghosted around the edges.
“I don’t think we can keep doing this,” he says.
You sit across from him, fingers curled around a mug of hot tea. The words land softly. That is what hurts. They do not crash, but settle.
“No,” you answer. “I don’t think so either.”
That’s all. No shouting. No shattered plates. No storm worth naming. Just two people standing at the end of something they have already spent years mourning.
Haein takes the news with a wobbling mouth and wet eyes, but when you tell him that Mommy and Daddy love him and Seorin more than anything, that this only means living in two homes instead of one, he believes you with the easy faith he offers the world. His sadness moves through him fast. He asks if his game console can come to your apartment on weekdays and Jiho’s place on weekends. He asks if Uncle Chan can still take them for tteokbokki after school sometimes. He asks whether this means he gets two birthday cakes.
Seorin says nothing at all.
She sits at the dining table with her hands folded in her lap, still wearing her school uniform, hair a little crooked from the day. Her face is blank in that careful way that makes your stomach turn. She is only ten. She already has the expression of someone bracing for impact.
Two years pass.
Haein grows taller without warning, all elbows and long legs and endless noise, his school backpack always half-unzipped, a trail of snack wrappers and excited stories following him through the apartment. He has become even brighter with time, his grief filed down into something manageable, something that never had the chance to root too deep. He still loves his father. He still loves you.
Seorin has grown beautiful in the quiet way of night-blooming things. Her hair falls longer now. Her gaze has only sharpened. She carries herself with a kind of careful self-possession that catches adults off guard. Teachers call her mature. Other parents call her polite. You know the truth is less flattering and far sadder. She has simply learned too early that softness should be protected.
You stand and smooth your hands down the skirt of the blue dress Haein chose for you. It is simple, soft around the waist, a little more elegant than what your ordinary life requires. You had to dig it out from the back of the closet, still sleeping inside its dry-cleaning bag, still carrying the shape of a woman who once thought she might need pretty things more often.
“You don’t seem like you want to go,” Seorin says from your doorway.
“I’m nervous.”
“Then maybe that means something.”
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it.
The doorbell rings and Haein nearly vaults out of the room. “Uncle Chan!”
He tears down the hallway with the kind of speed that makes every parent picture the emergency room on instinct. You follow more slowly, Seorin behind you, your pulse suddenly too loud.
You slip your shoes on at the door.
Haein beams at you with enough enthusiasm to embarrass an entire bloodline. “Have fun, Mom.”
Seorin’s voice follows, softer. “Please text when you get there.”
“I will.”
Chan opens the door, then pauses and leans in close enough that only you can hear him.
“You don’t have to fall in love tonight,” he says. “Just let someone be good to you for a couple of hours.”
It is such a simple thing. It nearly takes the breath from your lungs. You nod once and step into the hallway.
The elevator ride down feels strange, your reflection in the mirrored wall almost unfamiliar. Your hair is curled. Your lipstick is a shade warmer than usual. You look like someone on the edge of a life she has not met yet.
Outside, the city hums around you, neon beginning to wake in the deepening blue of evening. Cars move in streams and the air holds the lingering warmth of the day.
The drive to the restaurant is short. You park your car, take a deep breath, and climb out. You glance toward the restaurant, all gold light and clean windows. Through the glass, you can see the edge of the hostess stand, a row of small tables, the soft sweep of people moving through candlelit air.
And then, near the back, seated with his hands folded once before he seems to catch himself and uncurl them, is Hyunjin.
Even from here, he carries a kind of carefulness that reaches past the glass. He is dressed simply, but there is something precise about him, something almost quietly luminous. Dark hair falling near his eyes. A cream button-down and dark blue blazer encompass his lean form. Long fingers resting beside a glass of water he has not touched. He looks toward the door every few seconds, then away, then back again, trying and failing to disguise his nerves.
He does not look smooth. He looks sincere.
Your heart gives one startled, treacherous beat. Then you walk in, letting the hostess guide you to his table. Your eyes remain locked on him, watching in both nervous and curious anticipation for him to spot you.
As if he feels it, as if some hidden thread has already stretched between where he sits and your approaching figure, he lifts his head.
His eyes find yours instantly.
Something in his expression shifts. Relief, first. Then wonder, quick and unguarded, there and gone in less than a breath but long enough to catch at every loose corner inside you. He stands too fast, nearly clipping the table with his knee, and you watch the apology bloom on his face before it is even required.
A laugh rises in your throat, soft and unexpected.
Hyunjin has never cared much for dates.
Not because he dislikes romance. Romance, in his mind, is its own living thing. It lingers in the margins of books and in half-finished paintings, in train rides home under a bruised evening sky, in the hush that settles over a room when someone you love is near enough to touch. He believes in tenderness with the same conviction some people reserve for religion.
He just has very little patience for the performance of it. The polished introductions. The stale questions. The strange pressure of sitting across from someone who is already deciding how they might tell the story of you later. It has always felt too much like being observed under bad lighting.
At work, he is easier to understand.
The publishing company occupies four floors of a glass building, all bright conference rooms and stacks of mock covers spread across desks, walls pinned with color drafts and campaign calendars and page proofs marked in red. Hyunjin works as the art director, which means half his life is spent coaxing beauty into something marketable and the other half is spent defending that beauty from people who think beige sells better.
Chan sits on the other side of that battle as marketing director, though by now the two of them work together with the ease of habit. Chan brings strategy. Hyunjin brings instinct. Chan talks with his hands, and Hyunjin sits curled over a sketchpad or leaning back in his chair with a pen between his fingers, quiet until he suddenly says the exact thing that makes the whole room fall into place.
They should, by all logic, be exhausting to each other. Instead, they fit.
Chan learns early that Hyunjin needs softness after long meetings, that he goes quiet when he’s overwhelmed and mean only when the concept board is truly ugly. Hyunjin learns that Chan hides his worry inside humor, that he will take on twice the work if no one stops him, that he trusts hard and fully when he decides someone is worth it.
Which is how Hyunjin ends up cornered at lunch one Thursday with a sandwich in one hand and Chan staring at him over a carton of banana milk.
“I know you hate where this is going,” Chan says.
Hyunjin narrows his eyes. “Then why continue.”
“Because I’m right.”
“That has never once been a comforting sentence.”
Chan ignores him. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
Hyunjin closes his eyes. “No.”
“You haven’t even heard me out.”
“I know the genre already.”
“She’s lovely.”
“Subjective.”
“She’s funny.”
“Still subjective.”
“She’s smart.”
“That one is measurable, at least.”
Chan points at him with the straw of his drink. “You’re being close-minded.”
“I don’t think I am.”
“You are so stubborn.”
Hyunjin takes one deeply unnecessary bite of his sandwich just to avoid answering. Chan waits. He is very good at waiting when he wants something. It is one of the many reasons he is good at what he does.
When Hyunjin finally swallows, he says, “You know I don’t like blind dates.”
Chan’s expression softens, the pushiness draining out of him all at once. “I know.”
That is the trouble with him. He says it in a way that makes it impossible to pretend he does not mean it.
“I’m not trying to trick you into anything,” Chan continues. “I just think you’d like her. More than that, I think she’d like you. And before you make that face, I’m not matchmaking for sport. I’m doing it because you’ve both had enough years of pretending you don’t need anything.”
Hyunjin looks down at the table.
There are some things Chan can say only because he has earned the right to say them.
He knows enough to understand that Hyunjin lives carefully. That he has spent most of his adult life pouring himself into work, into art, into friendships that ask for nothing dramatic and offer steadiness in return. He knows Hyunjin is not lonely in any loud or tragic way. He is simply alone in the quiet, respectable shape people stop questioning after a certain age.
There are evenings when that shape suits him. Evenings when he takes himself to a museum or buys flowers for his apartment just because he likes waking to them on the table. Evenings when solitude feels elegant.
There are other evenings when he reheats soup for one and stands in a kitchen washed in refrigerator light and silence, and it all feels a little too polished. A little too untouched.
“She has kids,” Chan says then, carefully, watching him.
Most men would flinch. Chan knows this. That is why he says it now instead of springing it on him later.
Hyunjin only lifts his gaze.
Chan studies his face, then keeps going. “Twins. They’re twelve. She’s had a lot on her shoulders for a long time. I’m not telling you that to scare you off. I’m telling you because if you go, I want you to go honestly.”
Hyunjin leans back in his chair.
Children.
The word does not send panic through him. It does not make him feel cornered. It does something far stranger. It settles in him with a kind of reverence.
He has always thought children can tell when an adult is performing. They know who enters a room carrying impatience under their smile. They know who sees them as an obstacle, who sees them as luggage, who sees them only as proof of someone else’s past. He has never wanted to be that kind of man.
He has also never let himself picture being any other kind.
Chan, perhaps reading something in his silence, says, “You can say no.”
Hyunjin folds the sandwich wrapper with too much care. “Do you trust her?”
Chan’s answer comes easily. “With my life.”
A beat passes. Then Hyunjin says, “Do you trust me with hers?”
Something flickers across Chan’s face. Surprise first. Then something softer. “Yes,” he says.
That is what does it. Not pressure. Not curiosity. Trust.
So he goes. And then, somehow, he keeps going.
The first date leaves him a little dazed.
You are not what he expects, which becomes a pattern quickly enough that he stops expecting anything and starts simply paying attention. You are beautiful, yes, in the immediate way that caught in his chest when he first saw you walking towards him, but beauty is the least interesting thing about you after ten minutes in your company. You are nervous in a way you do not disguise well. You wrap both hands around your water glass when you are thinking. Your laugh arrives unexpectedly, as though you do not always know it is coming. You are careful with yourself and still somehow open. He can feel the years in you, not as damage, but as architecture.
At some point over dinner, when he apologizes for making the silverware clatter, you smile and say, “Thank you. I was worried I’d be the only one embarrassing myself tonight.”
The line is small. Dry. Perfectly timed. It should not undo him, but it does.
After that, dates begin to gather with the quiet persistence of rain.
A coffee shop near your office where the foam on his drink leaves a pale crescent on his upper lip and you laugh so hard he nearly forgets to wipe it away.
An evening walk along the Han where the wind keeps lifting strands of your hair across your mouth and he has to tuck his hands into his coat pockets so he does not reach out too soon.
A bookstore date that ends with both of you sitting cross-legged on the floor in the poetry aisle because you disagree over a cover design and neither of you cares that you are in the way.
Dinner in a tiny restaurant tucked down an alley, where you steal a piece of fish from his plate without asking and then look startled by your own instinct, as if intimacy has slipped out ahead of permission. He does not mention it. He only turns the plate a little closer to you.
There are text messages in between.
He begins to look for your name on his screen with embarrassing regularity.
You send him photos of a sunset from your sliding glass door captioned with things that make him smile on trains full of strangers. He sends back a snapshot of a rough cover sketch and asks which shade of blue feels more mysterious. You answer with a five-minute voice note. He listens to it twice.
Once, he is working late on a rushed redesign for an essay collection and his eyes have gone blurry from staring at typography for too long when your message arrives.
You: Did you eat?
Nothing else. The simplicity of it softens something in him at once.
Hyunjin: Not yet
Three dots appear. Disappear. Return.
You: That simply won’t do. Go eat.
He leaves the office ten minutes later with a smile he cannot quite hide.
Falling in love with you does not happen in one moment. Hyunjin is almost grateful for that. One moment would feel too dramatic, too neat. This is quieter. More real.
It happens in fragments.
In the way you listen with your full attention.
In the way you say his name when you are tired, making it sound intimate without trying.
In the way you do not flirt carelessly, every bit of warmth offered with intention, as though you have learned what it costs to be careless with someone’s heart.
It happens when you tell him stories about your children without realizing how you change while speaking about them.
The first time, it is over tea.
You are in a small café with yellow walls and rain tapping at the windows. He has noticed by then that you mention them often enough to make them real in the spaces between your dates. Haein said this. Seorin likes that. The twins are with their father this weekend. Haein failed a math quiz and somehow had the teacher apologizing. Seorin has developed a fondness for detective novels and now dissects every person’s words.
Hyunjin listens to it all.
He learns Haein is bright in every sense of it, a boy with quick laughter and boundless energy, the kind of child who enters a room already radiating joy. He learns Seorin is quieter, sharp-eyed, difficult to fool, tender in guarded ways. Sunshine and moonlight, he thinks one night after you have gone home, though he never says it aloud because the words feel too precious to expose.
What he notices most is the love in your voice when you talk about them. He has seen people mention children with apology tucked beneath it, as if trying to soften the blow of their existence. You never do. They are not baggage being disclosed. They are your life. Your center. Your heart walking around outside your body in duplicate.
It makes him admire you with a force that borders on helplessness.
Still, he is careful.
He never asks in a way that would make you feel cornered. Never tries to peer too far into the rooms you have not opened. He knows enough to understand that dating a mother is not just dating with one added detail. It is entering a life with sacred ground already marked. He will not step carelessly.
So when you tell him, one evening over dinner, that you are sorry you keep talking about your kids so much, he sets his chopsticks down and looks at you with genuine confusion.
“Why are you apologizing?”
Your fingers curl around your glass. “I don’t know. Habit, maybe.”
“You love them.” The answer is so obvious to him he almost laughs.
You blink. “Of course I love them.”
“Then why would I want you to speak about them less.”
Something changes in your face then. You don’t cry. You don’t gasp. But he can see the shift all the same, the tiny loosening of an old defense. The kind people wear so long they forget it is there until someone touches the clasp.
A week later, you tell him more, and not just the easy stories.
You tell him about getting married too young because everyone around you called it the right thing. About a love that had once been real and then dimmed under responsibility until there was hardly enough left to warm your hands over. About Haein’s resilience, his easy joy, the way he accepted the divorce with heartbreaking flexibility. About Seorin, who saw too much too early and still keeps a careful watch over you, as if love is a thing that needs guarding.
Hyunjin listens without interruption.
You are sitting in his car afterward, parked beneath your building, city light scattered across the windshield in dull gold. The heater hums softly. He can hear the end of your story in the quiet that follows it.
“I know it’s a lot,” you say.
There is no self-pity in it. Only honesty that nearly hurts more.
He turns to face you fully.
No one has ever accused Hyunjin of moving carelessly through beautiful things. He knows when to reach for the delicate stem and when to leave the flower untouched. He knows that some moments ask for charm and others ask for truth.
This one asks for truth.
“It’s not a lot,” he says gently. “It’s your life.”
Your gaze catches on his for a second, then falters, as if you are still not used to being met there.
He waits until you look back. “When you’re ready,” he says, “I’d like to meet them.”
You go very still. He can almost see the thought moving through you, checking his tone for strain, for obligation, for that faint note of polite tolerance you have probably heard before and learned to hate.
There is none. He means it. Not because meeting them is a hurdle on the way to you. Not because patience is a tactic and this is the right line to say. He means it because those children belong to the map of your heart. To know you fully would be to know the names you carry there.
“You don’t have to say that,” you whisper.
“I know.”
“Are you sure? I’m not forcing you.”
His mouth curves slightly. “I want to meet the most important people in your life.”
That gets you. Your face softens in a way he will remember for a very long time, as if something in you has been handled too roughly before and cannot quite believe the gentleness now.
“I wouldn’t want to rush it,” he adds. “I’m not asking for tomorrow. Or next week. Whenever it feels right to you. If it ever does.”
The quiet in the car turns warm. Inside that small parked car, something steady is being built.
You reach for his hand first.
It is such a simple thing. Fingers slipping into his across the console, tentative only in the first second. He looks down at your joined hands and feels that strange, unmistakable pull again, the one that has been gathering piece by piece across coffee dates and late-night texts and every time you smile at him as if he is offering something rare when really he is only trying to give you what should have been ordinary all along.
He turns his hand and holds yours properly.
From then on, loving you becomes less of a question and more of a daily practice.
He learns the bakery near your apartment that makes the sweet potato bread you like. He keeps an extra umbrella in his car because you are forever leaving yours at work. He memorizes the cadence of your tired voice and the one you use when you are pretending not to be disappointed. He buys chrysanthemums on a whim because they remind him of the softness you hide beneath all that resilience. He leaves them on your doorstep with a note tucked under the ribbon because you once mentioned offhand that flowers feel even more romantic when they arrive without an audience.
He never makes you feel borrowed from your own life.
That is what matters most.
He understands, instinctively, that mothers are too often asked to split themselves into pleasing portions. Be present there. Be desirable here. Be everything and make it look effortless. He refuses that script entirely. If you have to answer a call from Haein in the middle of dinner because he cannot find his science workbook, Hyunjin waits with a smile and steals one of your fries while you talk him through it. If Seorin texts you a photo of a practice exam score and you beam so brightly he has to blink, he asks to see it immediately and celebrates with all the sincerity the moment deserves.
You are never too much mother for him, and are never less woman because you are one.
And slowly, under the patient weather of that kind of care, you begin to bloom toward him without flinching.
By the time spring leans into summer, Chan stops pretending to be subtle about it.
He catches Hyunjin grinning down at his phone in the break room and says, “You look whipped.”
Hyunjin does not even bother denying it. Because he is. He is unbearable in the way only happy people are. Softer around the edges. More easily distracted. Permanently one message away from smiling in public.
One evening, after you have fallen asleep on his shoulder during a movie, your head tucked against him and your breathing gone slow and even, Hyunjin sits very still on the couch and realizes with quiet certainty that this is no longer the beginning of something.
It is something already underway.
Love has been arriving for weeks, maybe months, in its unannounced and unfussy way, settling into the seams of ordinary moments until ordinary itself begins to glow.
He looks at you then, the rise and fall of your breathing, the way your hand has loosened in your lap, trusting, and feels his heart answer with a devotion so complete it startles him.
And when he thinks of the future now, he does not imagine only you. He imagines a boy named Haein laughing too hard at his own joke. A girl named Seorin watching him with those sharp, careful eyes. A doorway he has not yet stepped through. A home he will enter gently, if invited.
He imagines earning it. And to him, it feels holy.
Hyunjin stands outside your apartment door with a bouquet he has already considered getting rid of three separate times.
They are beautiful, gathered in soft whites and pale pinks, the paper wrapped neatly around the stems, ribbon tied by hands more confident than his own. But, he thinks they are simply too much for a first meeting with children. Too formal. Too obvious. Too much evidence of the fact that he has been thinking about this all day with the sort of concentration people usually reserve for final exams.
He shifts them to his other hand and checks the time on his phone even though he already knows he is ten minutes early.
He had changed his shirt twice before leaving home. Settled on a dark knit that feels clean and simple and less likely to suggest he is trying too hard. Brought chocolate from the bookstore café you like, then left it in the car because sugar before dinner seems reckless. Stood in his bathroom mirror and told himself, very calmly, that he is a grown man about to meet two twelve-year-olds, not petition for sainthood.
None of it helps.
He hears movement on the other side of the door. Quick footsteps. Then your voice, lower, trying to stop someone from swinging it open before you are ready.
The door opens a fraction. You slip through, pulling it shut behind you.
For one suspended second, it’s only you two.
Your hair is pinned back in a loose half-up style that leaves a few strands near your face. Nothing dramatic, nothing overdone, but enough to let him know you have cared. Your blouse is soft blue today, tucked into dark jeans, the kind of outfit that makes him think of river water and evening light and all the quiet things he has come to associate with you. You look beautiful–catching him off guard even after months of learning that it will.
Your eyes move over him quickly, searching. “You look handsome. You’re also early.” The words come out in a whisper, but your mouth is already curving.
“I know.” He lifts the bouquet slightly. “I panicked.”
That gets you. A soft laugh, quick and warm. “I can tell.”
He glances down at the flowers with mock severity. “I can take them back to the car if this reads too much like I’m trying to bribe a family.”
“You absolutely cannot take them back to the car.” You reach for them, fingers brushing his, and that tiny contact is enough to settle some of the noise in his chest. “They’re beautiful,” you murmur. “Chrysanthemums. My favorites.” Your thumb traces one of the petals, thoughtful. “They last a long time.”
He watches your expression change as you look down at them. Something softer comes in, private and touched, and he thinks, not for the first time, that he would hand you every lovely thing he ever comes across if only to see that look appear again.
Before he can say anything else, your gaze flicks over your shoulder and then back to his face. “Haein has been asking every two minutes if you’re here yet.”
His stomach flips. “And Seorin?”
Your smile fades into something gentler. More careful. “She’s pretending she hasn’t been listening for the door.”
A beat passes. Then you step closer.
It happens without discussion, natural as breath by now. You tip your face up and he bends instinctively, meeting you in the narrow space between hallway light and home. The kiss is quick because it has to be, but it lands with the softness he has come to crave from you, your mouth warm and familiar, your free hand brushing once over his wrist before you step back.
Not your first kiss. Not even close. Still enough to leave him slightly dazed.
“You look nervous,” you say.
“I am nervous.”
“That’s fair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” You shift the bouquet into one hand and touch his sleeve with the other. “I’m nervous too.”
He exhales, some small locked part of him loosening. “Good,” he says quietly.
You blink. “Good?”
“I’d hate to be humiliated alone.”
Your laugh flares again, brighter this time, and he gets the reward of seeing the nervousness ease out of your shoulders just a little.
Behind the door, a voice calls, “Mom, is he here or..?”
Haein. Even through wood and distance, the boy sounds exactly as Hyunjin imagined from your stories. Open-hearted. Loud in the way only sunlight can be.
You close your eyes for one second, smile caught somewhere between fondness and surrender. “That’s our cue.”
When you open the door fully, the apartment unfolds around him in warm light and familiar traces of you.
Books stacked beside the couch. A pair of sneakers kicked half under the shoe cabinet. A framed drawing pinned to the wall near the kitchen, vivid with color and the kind of confidence only children and geniuses possess. It feels lived in immediately. A place with weight in it.
Haein is on the couch, springing to his feet the second Hyunjin steps inside. He is all long limbs and restless energy now, his face bright and open, features animated before he even speaks. Seorin stands near the dining table with her hands loosely clasped in front of her, posture straight, expression calm enough to pass for neutral if Hyunjin did not already know better.
Your children.
Something in him quiets at the sight.
“Hi,” Haein says immediately, before anyone else can do anything at all. “You’re taller than I thought.”
Hyunjin almost laughs from sheer surprise. “That’s the first thing?”
“Yes.” Haein walks closer, peering up with no attempt at discretion. “Uncle Chan said you were handsome, but he says that about everyone he likes, so I needed to fact-check.”
“Haein,” you say, scandalized.
“What? It’s true.”
Hyunjin has exactly one second to decide whether to be flustered or useful. He chooses useful. “And?” he asks solemnly.
Haein studies him with theatrical seriousness, then nods. “He was right.”
You let out a small laugh. Seorin looks down very quickly, but not before Hyunjin catches the corner of her mouth twitching.
Then Haein does something that nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. He throws his arms around him.
It is not hesitant. Just immediate, full-body acceptance from a boy who has apparently never met caution in his life. Hyunjin freezes for one startled beat, bouquetless hands hovering uselessly in the air, and then very carefully lowers them around Haein’s shoulders.
The child is warm. Real. Trusting in a way that feels too precious to mishandle.
When Haein pulls back, he does it only to launch into his next sentence. “Mom said you work with Uncle Chan. Do you draw all the book covers yourself? Is that your real job? Do you know famous authors? Are you rich? You look like you might be rich.”
“Haein.”
“I’m just asking questions.”
“They are not normal questions, though.”
Hyunjin smiles before he can stop himself. “For the record, no, not all by myself. Sometimes. A few. No. And definitely no.”
“Okay, good,” Haein says.
He blinks. “Good?”
“If you were rich, Mom would probably feel weird.”
You stare at your son. “I don’t think that’s true.”
“It’s true.”
From beside the table, Seorin finally steps forward.
She is quieter than her brother in every visible way, but there is nothing faded about her. Presence gathers around her differently. Haein enters a room by brightening it. Seorin enters a room by observing it and its occupants. Her gaze lifts to Hyunjin’s face and stays there, direct but not rude, thoughtful enough that he can almost hear the work of her mind.
“Hello,” she says.
Her tone is polite. Careful. Beautifully restrained.
“Hi, Seorin.”
He had promised himself he would not overdo this. No trying too hard. No reaching too quickly. Children, especially observant ones, can smell performance from a mile away. So he does not crouch dramatically or widen his eyes or talk down to her. He only inclines his head slightly, the same way he would greet anyone he genuinely wants to respect.
“It’s really nice to meet you.”
There is a small pause. Then she says, “You too.” It is not warm, exactly. It is not cold either. It is an offering measured in teaspoons.
Hyunjin takes it for exactly what it is.
You move toward the kitchen to put the flowers in water, and Haein follows Hyunjin almost immediately, still mid-question by the time he gets his shoes off.
“What books have you worked on? Can you draw dragons? Mom says I can’t get a pet lizard but I feel like if you drew one really well it might help my case.”
“I have no idea why you think that would help.”
“Art changes hearts.”
“That sounds suspiciously manipulative.”
“It’s called strategy,” Haein says.
Hyunjin glances toward you. “He sounds like Chan.”
“That’s because Uncle Chan is a bad influence,” Seorin replies from the hallway.
“He’s our favorite bad influence,” Haein corrects.
“Speak for yourself.”
By the time everyone is ready to leave, Hyunjin has learned three things.
Haein talks with his whole body. Seorin misses nothing. You become softer around both of them in ways that make something deep in him ache with admiration.
Dinner is at a family restaurant a few neighborhoods over. The kind with warm wood tables and laminated menus and enough background noise to make everyone relax. Haein chooses the seat beside Hyungin before anyone has the chance to negotiate otherwise. Seorin sits across, beside you, where she can see everything at once.
He orders calmly, listens more than he speaks, lets Haein tell him an impressively detailed story about a school field trip derailed by one disastrous bus karaoke session. He learns that Seorin prefers cold noodles to anything fried, that Haein hates mushrooms with a passion, that you cut both of their meat into smaller pieces without even noticing you are doing it.
Somewhere between the appetizers and the main dishes, Haein asks, “So how much do you like our mom?”
You close your eyes. “Please bury me under this table.”
“Mom,” Haein says, offended, “I’m helping.”
“You are doing the opposite of helping.”
Across from him, Seorin’s chopsticks pause. She does not look up, but he can feel her attention sharpen.
This, too, matters.
Hyunjin sets down his glass.
There are answers that would be easy. Cute ones. Deflecting ones. He does not choose any of them.
“I like her very much,” he says.
Haein beams as if personally responsible. “I knew it.”
Seorin lifts her gaze then, meeting Hyunjin’s eyes for a brief, searching second.
He lets her. No smile to soften it. No attempt to sell himself. Only the truth, held steadily in place.
She looks away first, but not with discomfort. More with thought.
The meal stretches comfortably after that. Haein asks if Hyunjin has ever embarrassed himself in public. You answer before he can, bringing up the story of his sleeve catching a paint jar in his studio and turning one entire afternoon into a small but memorable disaster. Hyunjin accuses you of betrayal. You accuse him of giving you the story himself. Haein nearly chokes laughing. Even Seorin smiles into her drink.
It is not a wide smile. It is not surrender. It is still enough to stay with him.
The arcade is Haein’s idea, offered the moment dinner ends and somehow impossible to refuse once it is out in the world.
It is bright inside. Full of noise, flashing lights, ticket machines shrieking triumph in the background, children running from one game to the next with the feverish focus of tiny gamblers. The place smells faintly of soda syrup and french fries.
Haein looks ready to ascend from joy. “This,” he says reverently, “was a genius idea.”
“It was your idea,” Seorin reminds him.
“That’s why it was genius.”
You fold your arms. “One hour.”
“An hour and fifteen minutes,” Haein bargains instantly.
The token machine glows at the entrance, card slots blinking. Hyunjin is already reaching for his wallet before he gives himself the chance to overthink it.
You catch the motion immediately. “Hyunjin, no,” you say, reaching for your own bag.
He glances at you. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. Dinner was already enough.”
Beside him, Haein looks between the two of you with the alert stillness of someone sensing an important adult negotiation and preparing to exploit it.
Something in your voice makes him look at you more carefully.
Not anger. Embarrassment, maybe. The instinct to keep the scales balanced. To owe no one too much.
His chest tightens with understanding. Before he can answer, Haein joins the cause with breathtaking speed.
“Please,” he says to you, clasping his hands dramatically. “Please let him. If this is about pride, I think we should all take a break from pride for the evening.”
You stare at your son. “Who taught you to speak like that?”
“You and television.”
Hyunjin bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.
Haein turns to him. “Help me.”
“I’m not sure involving me is wise.”
“It’s already too late,” Seorin says dryly.
Then, to your visible horror, Haein links his hands together beneath his chin and widens his eyes so extravagantly Hyunjin is almost offended on your behalf. “Mom. Be cool.”
You look at Hyunjin. He looks back with what he hopes is a reasonable amount of sympathy and not nearly as much amusement as he feels.
“It would make me happy,” he says gently. “That’s all.”
For a second, your expression softens. Something in it yielding not because you have been cornered but because you have heard him. You exhale through your nose. “You two are impossible.”
Haein throws both fists in the air. “Yes.”
Hyunjin loads the game card while Haein practically vibrates beside him. Seorin hangs back with you, but when he turns and holds the card out, he offers it to both of them equally.
“Shared custody,” he says.
Haein accepts this as if handed the keys to a kingdom. Seorin takes the other side of the card with a glance up at him that says she noticed the gesture.
Then they are off.
For the next hour, Hyunjin walks through a carnival of noise and color with your hand in his and a smile he stops trying to hide after the first fifteen minutes.
Haein throws himself into every game with ruinous confidence. Basketball. Racing simulators. One dance game that ends in public humiliation so total it loops back around to greatness. He loses spectacularly at claw machines and insists each failed attempt is part of a larger strategy the rest of you are too simple to understand.
Seorin is more selective. She likes the shooting games best, the ones requiring patience and precision. The first time she wins a prize, she only glances at it before offering it to Haein because his machine had betrayed him twice in a row. He accepts it with a sincerity so immediate it makes Hyunjin look away for one second, just to absorb the shape of them together.
Twins, yes. Entirely different weather systems. Still orbiting each other with instinctive pull.
You stay close to Hyunjin as the four of you move through the arcade. Sometimes your fingers thread with his. Sometimes you let go to clap for Haein or lean over Seorin’s shoulder to watch her line up another impossible shot. Sometimes you come back to him with laughter still in your face, and he feels his whole body orient toward it before his mind has a chance to catch up.
At one machine, Haein is busy trying to win a grotesque green dinosaur while Seorin stands nearby pretending not to care whether he succeeds.
You drift closer to Hyunjin, shoulder brushing his arm. “He’s not going to get that,” you murmur.
“No.”
“He’s spent half the card trying.”
“I know.”
“Why aren’t you stopping him?”
Hyunjin turns just enough to look at you fully. “Because hope is important.”
A startled laugh escapes you, head tilting back, eyes bright. He thinks, with complete seriousness, that he could live on that sound.
When Haein loses again and throws both hands over his face in theatrical despair, Seorin says, “It’s fine. It was ugly anyway.”
“It had character.”
“Still ugly.”
Later, near the photo booth tucked against the far wall, you stop him by the sleeve and pull him into a small corner shadowed from the busiest path of foot traffic.
“What?” he asks, still smiling.
“You.”
“That narrows nothing.”
Your fingers smooth the line of his collar. “Thank you.”
The arcade noise swells and breaks around you, bright and chaotic, but the small square of space between your bodies feels hushed anyway.
“For what?”
“For tonight. For being so good with them.” Your voice lowers. “For not making this weird.”
He does not know what expression crosses his face then, only that your hand comes up to touch his cheek as if the answer is written there.
“It was never going to be weird,” he says.
Your eyes search him. Something in them turns molten.
You kiss him before he can think too hard about it. Quick, soft, hidden in the spill of colored light from a pinball machine two steps away. He catches your waist on instinct, thumb resting just above the seam of your blouse, and when you pull back there is laughter in your mouth and something else too. Something fuller. Rounder. A happiness that seems almost shy to show itself.
He is about to lean in again when a voice behind him says, “I saw that.”
You spring apart.
Haein stands ten feet away, not scandalized at all, just deeply entertained. Seorin is next to him, expression composed enough that only the faint pink in her cheeks gives anything away.
“Oh my god,” you murmur into your hand.
“What?” Haein says. “You’re dating. That’s literally the concept.”
Hyunjin fails entirely at looking solemn. “Your timing is remarkable.”
“Thank you. I inherited it.”
“From who,” Seorin asks flatly. “Certainly not Mom.”
You cover your face. Hyunjin takes your hand again before you can dissolve into the arcade carpet from embarrassment, and this time you do not let go quickly. You lace your fingers with his and stay there.
He notices Seorin noticing that. Not with disapproval exactly. Not anymore. More with careful attention, her guardedness still in place but shifting shape around the edges. Watching her mother laugh. Watching the softness that comes over your face when you look at him. Watching him look back with all the steadiness he can manage under fluorescent lights and the threat of a basketball machine blaring triumph nearby.
At one point, Haein runs ahead toward another game, shouting something about vengeance and racing simulators. You and Hyunjin follow at a slower pace, hand in hand, your shoulder knocking lightly into his.
Seorin walks a step behind on your other side.
He can feel her presence there. Quiet. Evaluating.
Then you laugh at something he says, a real laugh, one that opens your whole face and spills into the air without restraint, and he sees it happen.
Seorin looks at you. Not him. You.
She watches your happiness settle around you, bright and alive and unforced. Watches the way your fingers remain woven with his as though they belong there. Watches the ease in your expression, the absence of strain, the simple undeniable truth that you are not enduring this evening. You are inside it fully.
Her mouth softens. The smile is small. Barely there. Still, it comes. Hyunjin sees it from the corner of his eye and says nothing. To call attention to it would be to frighten it back into hiding. So he keeps walking. Keeps pace with you. Lets Haein’s running commentary fill the space ahead of him and your hand warm his own.
But something inside him shifts all the same. Not victory. He would never call it that. Just the first hairline crack in a locked door.
By the time the four of you leave the arcade, Haein is carrying too many prize tickets and Seorin is holding a plush keychain she insists she only accepted because it would have been wasteful not to redeem the points. The night air greets you cool and fresh after all that neon and noise. The city feels softer now, as if the evening itself has mellowed with you.
Haein walks ahead, already retelling his greatest gaming triumphs in excruciating detail.
You lean into Hyunjin’s side as you walk. “You survived.”
“I did.”
“Barely.”
“I think your son interviewed me.”
“He interviews everyone.”
“And your daughter...”
You glance over at Seorin, who is listening while pretending she is not. “What about her?”
Hyunjin looks ahead for a moment, choosing his words with care. “She loves you very much.”
Your steps falter just enough for him to feel it. Then you squeeze his hand. “Yes,” you say quietly. “She does.”
He turns his head and presses a kiss to your temple before he can overthink whether the moment can hold it. Your answering smile arrives slow and luminous, the kind he knows he will think about later when he is home and alone and trying not to be wrecked by memory.
Ahead of you, Haein shouts, “No more kissing unless I get snacks.”
Seorin, to Hyunjin’s astonishment, lets out a soft, helpless sound that is almost a laugh herself.
The city glows around all four of you. Storefronts lit gold. Traffic moving steady. Summer beginning to gather in the air.
Hyunjin walks through it with your hand in his and the sound of your children just ahead, and for one quiet, dangerous moment, the future opens in his mind with startling clarity. As something he wants with a sincerity so deep it feels almost prayerful.
Beside him, you are smiling. Ahead of him, Haein is still talking. Seorin has not dropped her guard completely, but he has seen the edges of it soften, seen the moonlight shift.
For now, that is enough–more than enough. It is the beginning of being let in.
It’s a few months later and Hyunjin finds himself getting to the school twenty minutes early.
He tells himself it is because the school auditorium seating fills fast, because talent show nights are apparently treated with the severity of national events by parents who know the front rows disappear first. The truth sits elsewhere.
He has spent the entire week half-amused and half-ruined by how seriously Haein and Seorin have taken tonight. Haein has described the order of performances to him three separate times over text. Seorin, far more selective with her enthusiasm, had only looked at him over dinner two nights ago and said, with studied casualness, “It starts at six-thirty. The doors open at six.”
He had nodded, just as carefully. “I know.”
“I’m reminding you.”
“I’m feeling very guided.”
She had tried not to smile. Tried, and failed just enough for him to carry it around for the next day and a half.
So yes, he arrives early.
The school is already alive with evening noise. Parents moving through the front gate in tidy little currents, some still in office clothes, some with camera straps around their necks, some carrying bouquets wrapped in cellophane. Children dart in and out of the entrance with the last scraps of pre-show energy clinging to them, half-costumed and flushed with nerves.
Hyunjin stands for a moment outside the auditorium doors with one hand in his coat pocket and the other curled around a paper cup of coffee that has gone warm. The building glows under the early evening sky, windows bright, the air still holding the day’s leftover heat. Somewhere inside, a microphone squeals and is immediately followed by the embarrassed laughter of a teacher trying to fix it.
He checks his phone. No new message from you.
The last one is from twenty-one minutes ago.
You: Leaving work now. Traffic looks terrible but I'll get there. Save me a seat if the auditorium parents turn feral.
His mouth had curved when he read it the first time. It still does, a little, now.
He types back before slipping the phone into his pocket.
Hyunjin: Already on guard. I'm prepared to defend your honor and your throne.
He steps inside. The auditorium is exactly the kind of chaos he expected. Low stage, red curtains, rows of folding seats already filling. Mothers waving frantically from the center section. Fathers pretending they do not care where they sit while clearly caring very much. A line of teachers near the front wearing the tired expressions of people who have been handling children in sequins for the past two hours.
Hyunjin spots the twins immediately.
They are waiting near the side of the stage with the rest of the participants, grouped with classmates and teachers and enough nervous energy to power the building. Haein sees him first. The boy practically has internal radar for people he likes.
His whole face lights up. He throws one arm high into the air and waves so enthusiastically Hyunjin has to lift his hand in return before Haein dislocates something. Even from across the room, he can see him saying something to whoever is standing beside him, probably informing the entire lineup that Hyunjin has arrived and therefore civilization may proceed as scheduled.
Seorin turns at the movement. For a moment, she simply looks at him. Then she smiles. Briefly, shyly, the expression turning her face softer for only a second before she lowers her eyes and fixes the cuff of her sleeve like she did no such thing.
He smiles back anyway. By now, the smiles she gives him are no longer rare. But they still never feel ordinary.
He finds four seats near the middle and slides into one, saving the others with his coat and bag. One for you. One for Jiho, presumably. One extra because family nights never seem to obey clean arithmetic.
The thought of meeting Jiho alone crosses his mind then, and for the first time all evening, his calm wavers.
You had spoken about your ex-husband honestly, which somehow made the prospect both easier and harder. No villain. No grand betrayal. Just a man you once loved who became someone you could no longer build a life with. A father who loves his children. A person whose existence still sits inside the foundation of your history, no matter how gently or completely you have moved on.
Hyunjin has never been foolish enough to think that entering your life means stepping into empty ground. Love is never built on empty ground. It grows through what was already there. Around it. Sometimes because of it.
Still, knowing that in theory and preparing to meet the man in real life are two very different kinds of grace.
He checks his phone again. Nothing.
The house lights dim slightly, then come back up as someone announces a ten-minute delay due to “technical adjustments,” which sounds ominous enough that half the parents groan in unison. Hyunjin exhales through a smile and settles back in his seat.
That is when someone stops at the end of the row.
He looks up.
Jiho is taller than he expected. Broader too, shoulders still carrying traces of the boy he must have once been only in the softness at the edges of his face, the places life has not fully hardened yet. He has Haein’s smile hidden somewhere in his mouth and Seorin’s eyes made older by exhaustion. He is dressed simply, office slacks and a dark jacket, tie loosened at the throat.
For one suspended second, they only look at each other.
Then Jiho nods once. “Hyunjin.” His tone is level. Not sharp. Not warm. A man acknowledging another man that now sits where he once did.
Hyunjin rises out of instinct. “Jiho.”
They bow their heads in respect and shake hands.
Jiho’s grip is firm and brief, the kind that says more through restraint than pressure. Hyunjin feels the reserve in it immediately. Not hostility. That would have an easier shape. This is something quieter and more difficult to argue with. Caution. Distance. The kind of cold politeness built from a father’s instinct and a former husband’s unavoidable discomfort.
He steps aside to let Jiho in first. Jiho takes the seat on the other side of the empty one meant for you, glancing once at the coat Hyunjin has draped there.
“She’s not here yet?”
“No,” Hyunjin says, sitting back down. “She said traffic was bad.”
Jiho nods. Nothing more.
On stage, a teacher fumbles with a microphone stand while children in glittering costumes whisper furiously to one another near the curtain. The room is loud enough to cover the silence between them, but Hyunjin feels it all the same. A wall neither of them has yet decided whether to climb.
A blur of motion appears at the end of the aisle.
Haein has escaped whatever backstage holding pattern was supposed to contain him and is half-jogging toward them before any adult can stop him. “Dad!”
Jiho’s face changes instantly. The reserve falls away. Whatever else he is carrying tonight, whatever he may think about Hyunjin sitting here with your coat across a seat, none of it survives the sound of his son barreling down the aisle.
He stands in time to catch Haein with one arm. Haein grins up at him, bright and breathless and all joy. “You came.”
“Of course I came.”
“I thought maybe the meeting would run late.”
“It ended.”
“That’s good, because if you missed my part I was going to hold a grudge forever.”
Jiho huffs a laugh and ruffles his hair. “That sounds healthy.”
Then Haein turns, as if the happiness in him simply refuses to move in one direction at a time. “Hyunjin, you came too.”
The whole sentence is ridiculous. Hyunjin had been in his line of sight from the start. It is not information. It is delight made verbal. Still, hearing it does something to him.
He looks up at the boy. “I did.”
Haein beams. “Good. You have to watch the second group dance too. There’s this part where Minjun almost falls off the riser but then he doesn’t, and it’s honestly one of the strongest moments artistically.”
Jiho glances sideways then, not fully at Hyunjin but enough to register the easy familiarity in the exchange. Hyunjin can feel the look pass over him. Measuring. Taking stock.
Another small movement catches his attention. Seorin is standing a few feet back in the aisle now, hands folded around the ends of her sleeves, waiting for the first burst of Haein to finish before entering the orbit herself.
Jiho sees her and opens his arms slightly. She goes to him at once.
The hug is quieter than Haein’s, more contained, but no less deep for it. She folds against her father’s chest with that shy, tucked-in tenderness Hyunjin has only seen pieces of before, and Jiho’s hand settles at the back of her head for a brief moment. Something in Hyunjin aches at the sight. There is love here. Complicated, imperfect, but still entirely real.
When Seorin pulls back, she says something too soft for Hyunjin to hear. Jiho answers, and she nods.
Then she turns toward Hyunjin. Her expression shifts the way moonlight does when a cloud passes. She steps closer, stopping beside Haein, who is now bouncing gently on the balls of his feet because stillness would apparently kill him.
“Hi,” she says to Hyunjin.
“Hi.”
A small pause. Her eyes drop, then lift again. And then there it is. That shy smile, the one she offers only when she has forgotten to keep the fortress gates fully shut. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Simple words. Nothing more. The kind of thing another child might throw carelessly into the air. Coming from Seorin, it lands with the full weight of trust still in progress.
Hyunjin smiles before he can help it. “Me too.”
Haein makes a noise of impatience. “Can I tell them about the stage fog machine or do I have to go back now?”
“You have to go back now,” Seorin says.
“It’s oppressive how little freedom artists have in this country.”
Jiho actually laughs at that, brief and unwilling, as if the sound escaped before he had time to inspect it. Haein hears it and looks unbearably pleased with himself.
A teacher appears at the side door and waves sharply for the participants to return. Haein groans his way backward down the aisle. Seorin gives Jiho one last quick squeeze around the middle before stepping away. When she passes Hyunjin, she glances at him once more, all careful softness and held breath.
Then the two of them disappear backstage again.
Jiho remains standing for a second longer than necessary, watching the curtain where they vanished. When he sits, the distance between him and Hyunjin feels altered by something small and undeniable. Only complicated further by seeing his children happy in both directions at once.
“They’ve talked about you,” Jiho says after a while.
The sentence arrives without preamble. Hyunjin turns his head.
Jiho keeps his gaze on the stage. “Haein more than Seorin. But Seorin too.”
He doesn’t know what answer fits in the space he’s been given, so he chooses honesty. “I hope that’s not a bad thing.”
Jiho’s jaw shifts once, the muscle there tightening and easing. “They don’t get attached lightly,” he says. “At least not Seorin.”
There is no accusation in it. The meaning still lands cleanly enough.
Hyunjin folds his hands in his lap. “I know.”
That earns him the first direct look of the evening. Jiho studies him for a moment, not aggressively. Just with the hard attention of a father who has earned the right to be difficult when it comes to his children. “She’s had to grow up too fast.”
“I know,” Hyunjin says again, more quietly this time.
Jiho looks away first. “Then you know why I’m not interested in anyone being careless.”
The lights dim before Hyunjin can answer. The talent show begins in a burst of applause and static from the speakers, mercifully postponing the rest of the conversation. Children pour onto the stage in improbable costumes. A recorder ensemble goes tragically off-key and survives on spirit alone. Two boys in matching vests perform a rap with enough confidence to make up for whatever talent they lack. Parents clap too hard. Teachers smile with the worn devotion of saints.
Hyunjin watches, but the empty seat beside him keeps tugging at his focus. He checks his phone during the transitions between acts. Nothing.
He sends you one message.
Hyunjin: We saved your seat. The recorder group may never recover but morale is high.
No response.
By the time the twins’ performance begins, unease has started to gather low in his stomach.
Haein is impossible to miss in the dance group. He throws himself into the choreography with the exact amount of joy and dramatic sincerity Hyunjin expected, smiling too wide and missing one turn by half a beat before recovering with the confidence of someone too beloved to fail in any meaningful way.
Seorin stands farther back in the vocal ensemble that follows, hands curled around the microphone, shoulders straight, expression composed until the music starts. Then something in her settles. Her voice is not the loudest in the group, but Hyunjin finds it anyway. Clear. Steady. Silver-bright.
He feels Jiho straighten beside him during her part.
When the applause rises, Hyunjin claps until his palms sting.
Still no message from you.
The second half of the show passes in fragments. More children. More lights. More performances stitched together with nervous announcements and parents trying not to trip in the aisles. The seat beside them stays empty, your coat now folded over the back rather than draped across the cushion, the outline of your absence becoming harder to ignore with every minute.
Jiho notices it too. Hyunjin can feel him notice it. Neither says anything.
By the time the finale ends and the room bursts into motion, relief and pride and too many camera flashes all at once, the unease in Hyunjin has turned sharp enough to hurt.
He stands as families crowd the aisle. Jiho is already scanning the room toward the side doors where the participants will emerge. Hyunjin pulls out his phone again and calls you.
Straight to voicemail.
His chest goes cold.
The twins appear a few minutes later in a wave of children and noise. Haein reaches them first, flushed and triumphant, hair damp at the temples. “Did you see the turn in the second chorus,” he says, not even bothering with hello. “I almost ate the floor but I recovered so well that I actually think it improved the performance.”
“You were amazing,” Jiho says.
“You were really good,” Hyunjin adds, meaning it.
Haein glows under the praise. “Where’s Mom?”
The question hangs there.
Seorin has just arrived at Jiho’s side, cheeks still pink from the stage lights, the clip in her hair slipping a little loose. She looks from him to the empty space behind them and stills.
Jiho pulls out his phone. “She’s probably parking.”
Hyunjin wants to believe him. He does, with a kind of desperate sincerity. He wants you sweeping in breathless and apologetic, cursing traffic and kissing Seorin’s forehead and asking Haein to reenact his favorite part of the dance before you even leave the building.
He watches Jiho dial, but the call does not connect.
He tries again. This time his face changes before the ringtone can cycle twice.
A beat later, he steps away from the children. “Hello?” His voice is clipped now. Alert.
Hyunjin feels the air around them tighten.
Haein is still talking at first, asking whether they can stop somewhere for late dessert because surviving a talent show should legally qualify a person for ice cream. Then he notices the silence where his father’s easy answer should be.
Seorin notices faster. She turns toward Jiho fully, every line of her small body going sharp.
Jiho listens without speaking. His face empties in a frightening way, the kind that means bad news has arrived and is being held in place by force. One hand comes to his hip. The other grips the phone hard enough his knuckles pale.
When he finally speaks, his voice has dropped. “Which hospital?”
The floor seems to tilt. Hyunjin goes very still.
Jiho listens again, says yes, says thank you, says we’re on our way. Then he hangs up and stands there for half a second with his eyes closed.
When he turns back, Haein is already looking frightened. “Dad?”
Jiho’s gaze flicks to the twins first, then to Hyunjin, as if recalculating how to share something grave to his children standing in front of him.
“It’s Mom, isn’t it,” Seorin says. She doesn’t ask it like a question.
Jiho exhales once. “There was an accident.”
The words leave a vacuum behind them.
Haein’s face falls open. “What?”
Jiho steps closer, leans forward slightly so he is level with them even though his own composure is visibly strained. “A car hit her. But the doctors have her now and she’s gonna be okay.”
Hyunjin feels his body react before his thoughts can catch up, a violent cold racing through him from throat to fingertips. The corridor noise around them becomes distorted, applause and laughter and parents gathering flowers into their arms while the world inside this one narrow square has split apart.
“Is she okay?” Haein asks, and the sound of his voice is wrong now, too high, all the sunlight gone out of it in one terrified second. “Dad, is she okay?”
“They said she’s alive,” Jiho says quickly.
Alive. The word should help. It doesn’t. Not enough.
“We’re going now.”
Seorin’s hands are shaking. She has gone frighteningly quiet, face blank. Haein looks like he might either cry or throw up or both. And Hyunjin, standing a step away, can think only one thought with the full, sickening clarity of disaster.
You were on your way here. To them. To him.
He hears his own voice before he fully feels it.
“I can drive.”
All three of them look at him.
“I can drive” he repeats, already reaching for his keys. “My car’s close.”
Jiho studies him for one split second, every instinct in him likely screaming in different directions. Then practical need wins the battle. “Fine.”
Haein is crying now, silent tears spilling as if his body has outrun his mind. Seorin still hasn’t moved. Hyunjin steps toward her without thinking too hard about whether he has the right. There are moments that strip the world down to function. This is one of them.
“Seorin.”
Her eyes lift to his.
He keeps his voice steady by sheer force. “We’re going to her now.”
The words seem to reach her from far away. She swallows once and nods.
Jiho takes Haein’s shoulder, guiding him toward the exit. Hyunjin falls into step beside Seorin, close enough to catch her if her knees give out. Around them the school continues breathing in ordinary rhythms, families congratulating children, teachers laughing with relief, the whole bright harmless evening still glowing stupidly on as if it has not just been split open.
Outside, the night air hits cold against the sweat at the back of Hyunjin’s neck as he unlocks the car with shaking hands.
For one brutal second before anyone gets in, before the doors slam and the drive begins and the hospital rises ahead in fluorescent inevitability, he stands in the parking lot under the thin wash of streetlight and looks up at the dark sky with his heart pounding so hard it feels injurious.
The hospital is too bright.
That is Hyunjin’s first coherent thought once the automatic doors open and all four of them are swallowed by fluorescent light and antiseptic air and the kind of quiet that only exists in places built to hold fear.
The emergency desk staff move quickly once they hear your name. Efficient and professional. Calm in that practiced way that makes Hyunjin feel both grateful and briefly murderous.
He understands the necessity of it. Still hates it.
The twins stay close without needing to be told. Haein keeps wiping his face with the heel of his hand as if he can erase the panic by force. Seorin has gone inward completely, all of her energy pulled tight beneath the surface. Her lips are pale. Her hands are empty only because she is holding them too still to count.
A nurse leads them to a family waiting area just outside the trauma center. It has rows of plastic chairs and a water cooler in the corner and a television mounted high on the wall playing some daytime program with the volume off, bright smiling hosts moving their mouths in a world that has nothing to do with this one.
Jiho speaks for all of them at first because someone has to.
Name. Age. Any allergies they know of. Any medications. Emergency contact confirmation. Divorce papers have made him good at forms and signatures and keeping his voice level while his life rearranges itself around him. Hyunjin watches him do it with a kind of raw respect.
Then comes the waiting. Time changes shape in hospitals. Minutes stop behaving correctly. The clock on the far wall moves, but nothing inside Hyunjin believes it.
A doctor comes out after what feels like an hour and what might only be twenty minutes. He looks insultingly composed, his badge swinging slightly as he approaches, and Hyunjin hates him for one full second on principle before the man even opens his mouth.
“Family of—”
Jiho is already on his feet. “Yes.”
Hyunjin rises a second later, Haein following
The doctor’s eyes move between them, taking in the configuration with one quick professional glance, then settle. “She’s stable.”
The word hits the room so hard it nearly leaves an echo. Haein makes a sound that is half sob and half gasp. Jiho puts a hand out without looking and catches the back of his neck, steadying him. Hyunjin feels the breath he has been holding tear out of him so suddenly it hurts.
“She came in unconscious,” the doctor continues. “The paramedics brought her straight to trauma because of the mechanism of the accident. Right now, her vitals are stable. We don’t see anything immediately life-threatening, which is good.”
Good. The word feels too small. Too careful. Still, Hyunjin clutches at it instinctively.
“But,” the doctor says, because of course there is a but, “we need more imaging and observation before we can say more. We’re especially concerned about head trauma since she was unconscious when she arrived. We need to make sure there isn’t a brain injury that isn’t obvious yet.”
Jiho nods once, jaw flexing. “Okay. Does she have any internal bleeding?”
“Nothing significant that we can see at this moment.”
“At this moment.” Jiho repeats the phrase the way people do when they are trying to decide whether to trust it.
The doctor understands the look on his face. “I know that’s not the kind of certainty you want. We’ll know more once the scans come back.”
“Can we see her?”
“Not yet. She’s still being evaluated. Someone will come get you as soon as we can.”
Jiho nods again. Thanks him with the kind of clipped civility that belongs to people too frightened to be rude and too exhausted to be kind. The doctor leaves. The corridor swallows him.
For a second nobody moves. Then Haein breaks. Just one choked inhale that seems to catch wrong in his chest, and then another, and then he is crying in earnest, shoulders shaking under the half-buttoned costume shirt he never got the chance to change out of.
Jiho turns to him immediately. “Hey. Hey, Haein.”
“She was coming,” Haein says, words wrecked and uneven. “She was coming to see us.”
“I know.”
“It’s my fault, isn’t it? Because she was trying to get here fast because of us and I kept texting her and asking when she’d be here and—”
“No.” Jiho’s voice goes hard in the middle, not harsh, but firm enough to cut through the spiral. “No. Don’t do that.”
Haein is crying too hard to hear reason. Jiho pulls him in against his chest, one hand pressing the back of his head down, the other bracing him across the shoulders. Haein clutches at the front of his jacket like he’s drowning and Jiho is the nearest solid thing.
Hyunjin looks away. Not out of discomfort. Out of mercy. There are griefs intimate enough that witnessing them head-on feels like trespassing.
That is when he realizes Seorin has not made a sound. She is sitting three chairs down from where she was before, as if she drifted there without him noticing. Her hands are folded in her lap. Her face is blank. Too blank. The overhead lights bleach the color from her skin, turn the shadows beneath her eyes into bruises.
Hyunjin crosses the room and sits beside her.
For a while, neither of them says anything.
The waiting area hums around them. Nurses pass the doorway. A man somewhere down the hall is speaking into his phone in a voice pitched low with the strain of trying not to frighten whoever is on the other end. The television continues flashing silent smiles. Haein’s crying softens in waves under Jiho’s quiet voice.
Seorin stares at the floor.
Hyunjin lets the silence stay. He knows better than to reach into her grief with clumsy hands. She is not Haein. She will not be coaxed into feeling safer by volume or forced brightness. She has always been all edges and depth, the kind of child who holds everything in so carefully that even pain comes out with manners.
He waits until he feels the slightest shift beside him.
Seorin’s hand moves first–small and cold.
She lays it on the seat between them for one second, hovering there, almost as if she means to take it back. Then her fingers curl, timid only in the first inch of motion, and close around his hand.
Hyunjin looks down. Her grip is tighter than he expects. Tight enough to hurt a little.
When he looks back at her face, she is still staring at the floor. Her chin trembles once.
“Seorin.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. When she finally speaks, her voice sounds scraped raw. “Can you…”
Hyunjin shifts closer without thinking, turning his hand under hers so he is holding it properly now. “Can I what, sweetheart?”
She makes a broken sound at that, something so tiny he might have missed it if he had not already been listening for every fracture in her. Then she turns toward him all at once, eyes shining, composure cracking faster than he can brace for. “Can you tell me everything’s going to be okay?”
The question tears straight through him.
Her face crumples as she keeps going, words coming faster now, fragile and desperate and horribly young. “Tell me she’s going to be okay. Tell me we can all go home later. Tell me this isn’t…” She sucks in a breath that shudders on the way out. “Please.”
Hyunjin’s throat closes around every answer he cannot honestly give. He can promise presence. He can promise love. He can promise that he will sit here until morning and longer if morning comes and you still have not opened your eyes. What he cannot promise is the one thing she wants most.
Still, he tries.
“She’s alive,” he says, keeping his voice gentle enough that it does not splinter against her panic. “The doctor said she’s alive, Seorin. That matters.”
Tears spill over anyway. She shakes her head once, violently, as if the reassurance is too thin to wrap around what she is feeling. “Please,” she whispers, and then again, louder, “Please.”
The second plea turns heads. Jiho looks over from where he is holding Haein, alarm already gathering, but Hyunjin lifts his free hand just slightly. Not to wave him off. Just enough to say he’s here, he’s got her for this moment, stay with your son.
Jiho hesitates. Then nods.
Seorin is crying fully now. Silent no longer. The kind of crying that seems to come from a place below language entirely. She lets go of Hyunjin’s hand only to catch at his sleeve with both of hers, twisting the fabric tight.
“I’ll change,” she says suddenly, words tumbling over each other in a panic that has outpaced thought. “If it means she’s okay, I’ll change. I’ll be easier. I’ll be better. I’ll be…” She drags in air like she’s choking on it. “I’ll be like Haein. I’ll be nice and bright and I won’t make anything hard anymore, I swear, I’ll just—”
“Seorin.” He says her name sharply enough to stop the sentence, softly enough not to wound.
She looks at him then. Really looks. Terrified. Open in a way he has never seen before and hopes he never has to again.
The sight nearly undoes him. He turns fully toward her, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face. Her skin is damp and freezing under his palm. “No.” His voice drops lower. Steadier. “No, don’t say that.”
Her mouth trembles. “But what if—”
“You do not have to become anyone else.” The words come from somewhere deeper than thought. They arrive already true. “You do not have to be brighter. Or easier. Or anything other than exactly who you are.”
She is still crying, but quieter now, stunned into listening.
Hyunjin brushes a tear from beneath her eye with his thumb. “Your mother doesn’t love you because you make things easy,” he says. “She loves you because you are Seorin.”
Another tear follows the first. He catches that one too. “And I…” His voice falters for the first time that night. He lets it. “I love who you are too.”
Her eyes go wider.
He has never said it like this before. Not cleanly. Not out loud where it can stand on its own without implication or the soft disguise of actions. But the truth is already here, huge and undeniable and far too urgent for caution now.
“I love your mom,” he says. “You know that.”
A tiny, trembling nod.
“But I love you and Haein very much too.”
Her breath catches.
“Not just because you belong to her,” he continues, each word chosen and given with the full weight of his heart behind it. “Not just because I met you through her. I love you because you are you. Because Haein walks into a room and makes it brighter. Because you see everything and still feel everything. Because somewhere along the way, you both became part of my life in a way I can’t separate anymore.” His own eyes sting then, sudden and helpless. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
Seorin breaks completely. She makes one wounded little sound and throws herself at him so fast his chair nearly shifts under the force of it. Hyunjin catches her immediately, arms closing around her with no room for hesitation, one hand at the back of her head, the other spread wide between her shoulder blades.
She clings. Her fingers knot in the back of his shirt and stay there as if letting go would be her demise. She cries into his shoulder with the terrible trust of someone who has finally stopped trying to hold herself upright for one minute too long.
Hyunjin holds her tighter. He presses his cheek to her hair first, then his forehead to hers when she lifts her face in wet, uneven breaths, both of them close enough now that his voice barely needs to rise above a whisper.
“She is perfect too, you know.” Seorin sobs once, eyes squeezed shut.
“She is,” he says again. “And so are you.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“What if she doesn’t wake up?”
The question lands between them like broken glass. Hyunjin closes his eyes for one second before opening them again. “Then I will still be here.”
Her brows pinch, tears clinging to her lashes.
“For you,” he says. “For Haein. For whatever happens. I’m here.”
She stares at him with all the shattered intensity of a child trying to measure whether a promise will hold.
Hyunjin does not look away. No matter what happens, he had said. He means it. Not as comfort thrown over a wound because he cannot bear her pain. As commitment. As fact. Something already built and standing there between them.
Slowly, shakily, Seorin nods. Then she leans forward again until their foreheads meet once more, both of them breathing the same thin hospital air, both pretending for each other in the gentlest possible way.
“She’s okay,” Seorin whispers, the sentence fragile in her mouth.
Hyunjin swallows around the ache in his throat. “She’s okay,” he echoes.
They say it again. And again. Not because repetition makes it true, but because hope sometimes needs the rhythm of prayer to survive the waiting.
Across the room, Jiho is still holding Haein, though Haein has quieted enough now to listen, tear-streaked and hollow-eyed. Hyunjin can feel Jiho watching them from a distance, something unreadable moving across his face as he takes in the sight of Seorin folded against Hyunjin’s chest, Hyunjin holding her as if he has done it all his life.
For once, Hyunjin cannot find it in himself to care what the man makes of him. The only thing in the world that matters is the child in his arms and the woman beyond the trauma doors and the thread stretched between all of them, pulled thin but not broken, not yet.
Seorin shifts after a while, not far, just enough to breathe easier. “Promise?” she asks. Her voice is raw from crying.
Hyunjin smooths a hand over her hair, careful where it has come loose from its clip. “What?”
“That you won’t go.”
He feels something inside him cave in quietly. “I promise.”
Even now, even here, he does not make promises he cannot keep. This one he gives without hesitation.
Seorin nods against him, accepting it with the solemn seriousness of someone who will remember every syllable later.
A nurse appears in the doorway then, looking around the room with that specific expression hospital staff wear when they are about to alter someone’s life in one direction or another.
“Family of Y/N?”
Everything inside the room stills. But Hyunjin feels Seorin’s hand lock around his again before either of them stand.
Three years later.
The air in the room feels charged, thick with sweat and the raw, honest scent of what you’ve been doing for the past hour. The deep, rhythmic slap of his hips against yours is a sound that has become the world’s only music, a steady beat beneath your own ragged breaths. Hyunjin’s hands, large and possessive, are planted firmly on your hips, his fingers digging in, not to hurt but to hold, to claim. The bed dips beneath your knees, the sheets a tangled mess beneath your braced palms.
He drives into you, a slow, retreating withdrawal that makes you gasp at the loss, followed by a sharp, perfect return that fills you so completely your vision momentarily swims. He isn’t gentle, but there’s a precision to his roughness, a care in every thrust that tells you he’s listening to your body, reading every twitch and shudder.
“God, you feel like heaven,” he grunts, the words rough and textured, vibrating through his chest and into the room. His voice is lower now, worn from use.
You can’t form a coherent sentence. A broken sound escapes you, half-moan, half-word. “You… the way you move…”
His pace shifts, not faster but deeper, angling himself so that each entry seems to touch a different, brighter nerve. Your back arches involuntarily, a silent plea for more of that specific, devastating pressure. He sees it, feels it, and adjusts. A low, satisfied hum comes from him. “There?”
You nod, frantic, your hair a wild curtain over your flushed face. “Yes. Right there. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He finds that spot and works it, a relentless, focused rhythm that begins to unravel you from the inside out. The stretch of him, the glorious, aching fullness, becomes a focal point of pure pleasure. It’s not just the physical sensation; it’s the knowledge of him, of his desire, of the freedom in this empty house that lets you be this loud, this unapologetically hungry.
One of his hands leaves your hip, slides up your spine, a warm, smoothing path over the sweat-slicked skin. It comes to rest between your shoulder blades, a heavy, comforting weight. The other hand stays anchored, guiding the force of his movements. The dual sensation—the grounding hold and the tender touch—makes your throat tighten with something more than lust.
“You’re so perfect for me,” he murmurs, his voice closer now, his breath hot near your ear. “Every part of you. Taking me like this, fuck.”
The praise, raw and sincere, coils around the physical act, amplifying it. You want to give it back. “You feel…you feel so good, Hyunjin. I love your cock. I love how you fuck me.”
The words, dirty and direct, trigger a sharp, sudden increase in his intensity. His grip tightens, his thrusts become shorter, harder, a rapid-fire assault on that perfect, bright spot inside you. The building pressure in your core shifts from a steady climb to a steep, urgent ascent.
Your own hands clutch at the sheets, twisting fabric. Your thighs tremble. The sounds you’re making now are unrecognizable, guttural and open, completely unfiltered. The world narrows to the junction of your bodies, to the slick, hot friction, to the expanding universe of sensation he’s creating within you.
He feels you approaching the edge. His movements become even more deliberate, each thrust a controlled, deep plunge aimed with devastating accuracy. “Come for me,” he commands, his tone not harsh but inviting, a shared destination. “Let me feel it. I want to watch you fall apart around me.”
It’s the permission, the shared intent, that finally breaks you. The tension that had been coiling, winding tighter and tighter, suddenly snaps.
It doesn’t flood; it detonates.
A sharp, white-hot burst of pleasure erupts from that deep, focused point, radiating outward in violent, sparkling waves. Your body locks, a rigid arc of pure release, every muscle contracting in a symphony of ecstasy. A choked, high sound is ripped from your lungs. Your inner muscles convulse around him, a rapid, rhythmic pulsing that grips his length with involuntary, desperate strength.
He groans, a deep, ragged sound of pure satisfaction. “Yes…fuck, yes, just like that…” He doesn’t stop moving. He rides your climax, his thrusts becoming shallower, faster, leveraging the frantic contractions of your body to push himself toward his own peak.
The overwhelming sensations of your own orgasm begin to soften, melting into a heavy, glowing haze of aftermath. But he’s still there, still moving, still driving. You’re hyper-sensitive now, every movement a magnified echo of pleasure. You feel him swelling inside you, growing even harder, more present.
His rhythm fractures, losing its precision, becoming instinctual, urgent. His hands are both on your hips now, pulling you back onto him with each forward surge. His breaths are sharp, panting gusts against your back.
“I’m gonna come inside you,” he warns, the words fragmented, barely coherent.
You press back against him, an eager, answering push. “Please. Do it. Fill me.”
It’s the last push he needs. With a final, deep, grinding thrust that seats him as fully as possible, he lets go. A hot, startling rush floods into you, a liquid heat that marks the culmination of every previous movement. He shudders, a full-body tremor that you feel through every point of contact. His forehead drops between your shoulder blades, his body slumping over yours, weighty and spent.
For a long moment, there is only silence, filled by the rapid hammering of two hearts and the slow, settling calm of shared exhaustion.
He stays there, inside you, for a minute longer, both of you relishing the final, intimate connection. Then, with a soft, careful withdrawal, he pulls out. The loss is profound, a hollow feeling followed by the warm, spreading evidence of his finish.
You collapse forward onto the mattress, your limbs feeling liquid, boneless. He moves off the bed, his footsteps quiet on the floor. You hear the gentle run of water in the bathroom sink. A minute later, he returns, a warm, wet cloth in his hand.
He doesn’t speak. He simply tends to you. The cloth is soft, the water soothing as he cleans the sweat from your back, the evidence from between your thighs. His touch is methodical, tender, a silent continuation of the reverence he showed during the act itself. Each pass of the cloth is a gentle stroke, an act of care that soothes the vibrant, buzzing aftermath in your skin.
Finished, he drops the cloth aside and climbs onto the bed beside you. He doesn’t pull you into an embrace immediately. He lies on his back, one arm outstretched, an invitation. You roll into the space he’s made, curling against his side, your head finding the familiar hollow of his shoulder. His skin is warm, slightly damp. His arm encircles you, his hand resting on your waist.
The room is quiet now. The only sounds are the faint hum of the house and your syncing breaths.
“You’re incredible,” he says softly, his voice restored to its normal, smoother tone.
You nuzzle closer, your lips brushing his skin. “You make me feel that way.”
A smile touches his lips; you feel it more than see it. His hand strokes your side, a slow, idle caress. The passion has banked, but the embers glow, warm and close.
The bedroom is washed in late afternoon light, soft gold spilling through the curtains and settling across the sheets in warm, lazy bands.
His touch drifts across the pale lines left behind by the accident, the scars that once made you look away from your own reflection for too long, the ones he has never treated as something tragic or inconvenient or lesser.
To him, they have always felt holy.
He loves them because they are part of you, because they are proof of the night that almost stole you and failed, because your body carries its history openly and still remains the most beautiful thing he has ever known. There is no pity in the way he touches you. Only reverence. A kind of quiet awe that has only deepened with time.
His thumb brushes one scar near your waist, then lingers there.
“You know,” he says, voice still low with sleep and softness, “I think you get more beautiful everyday.”
You look at him with the half-amused suspicion that still makes him smile, even now, after vows and rings and a hundred ordinary mornings turned precious by habit. “You may be biased.”
“Maybe.” His fingers slide up, smoothing over the curve of your hip beneath the blanket. “It’s also true.”
You laugh under your breath, and he feels it more than hears it, your body shifting closer on instinct until your forehead touches his shoulder.
The ring on your hand catches the light when you reach up to brush his hair from his face. It still does something strange to him, seeing it there.
He had never wanted the symbol for its own sake. What moves him now is the life attached to it. The way this marriage was chosen instead of expected. Built instead of inherited. The way loving you has never once felt like stepping into a role and always felt like walking into a home with the lights already on.
“I love you,” he says, because he has long since stopped hoarding the sentence for rare occasions.
Your mouth softens. “I love you too.”
He traces the line of your wrist, watches your ring flash once more. “You changed everything for me.”
You smile a little at that, but he can see the protest forming already. You’ve always had a habit of trying to spread credit around too evenly, as though love should never be allowed to rest too fully in your hands.
So he keeps going before you can interrupt him. “You did.” His hand moves back to your waist, settling there. “You and the kids.”
At that, your expression changes. The shape it always takes when Haein and Seorin are brought into the room, even when they’re miles away.
“They changed me,” he says quietly. “All of you.”
He means it with the kind of sincerity that asks for nothing in return. Before you, his life had been beautiful in fragments. Careful. Lonely in ways he had learned to make peaceful. Then there was you, and Haein with his unstoppable brightness, and Seorin with all that moonlight hidden beneath her stern little silences, and suddenly his world had roots where it used to have only rooms.
Now there are sketchbooks left open on the dining table because Seorin likes watching him layer color. Haein bursting through the door at impossible volumes with stories that begin in the middle and somehow still make perfect sense. Family calendars. Grocery lists. Vacation plans. Arguments over whose turn it is to pick dinner. A life that no longer belongs to one pair of hands.
His phone buzzes against the nightstand. You glance toward it first. “That’s probably one of your children.”
He smiles. “One of mine?”
“All of you are obsessed with texting me pictures while I’m trying to enjoy peace.”
He reaches over and picks up the phone.
Seorin.
The message opens to a photo first.
Haein and Seorin stand side by side on Jeju’s black volcanic rock, the sea stretching wide and blue behind them, wind whipping Haein’s hair into total disaster while Seorin pretends to roll her eyes at him. Jiho is in the background, slightly out of focus, wearing sunglasses and holding a camera, caught mid-turn as if he has only just noticed the picture being taken.
Hyunjin stares at it for a moment longer than necessary.
Three years has done its work in strange, quiet ways. There is still history where Jiho is concerned. There always will be. But the roughest parts have softened into something workable, something respectful. A shared language built around the twins and what they need. What they have all needed, in different ways, to survive.
Below the photo, Seorin’s message waits.
Seorin: Haein has decided he’s now a local
A second message follows immediately.
Seorin: We should all come together sometime. You can be a poser and paint the landscape and pretend to be serious while Haein ruins it by being himself.
And then, after a beat long enough that he can almost see her hesitating over the screen:
Seorin: Miss you. Love you. Tell Mom too.
Something warm and helpless opens in his chest.
Beside him, you prop yourself up on one elbow. “What did she say?”
Hyunjin turns the phone so you can see the photo, and your face lights in that quiet maternal way he fell in love with before he ever knew what to call it.
You laugh softly at Haein’s pose. Then you read the messages. Your expression changes when you reach the last one.
Hyunjin looks down at the words again.
There was a time when Seorin’s trust came in fragments. A shy smile. A hand reaching for his. A tearful promise made in the fluorescent ache of a hospital waiting room. Now her love arrives in Jeju photos and dry observations and invitations folded into practical suggestions, still carrying her own shape, and still unmistakably hers.
He types back with a smile tugging at his mouth.
Hyunjin: I miss you too. Tell Hae the landscape deserves respect. But yes, we’ll all go soon.
He pauses, then adds—
Hyunjin: Love you more, kiddo.
“She hates when you do that,” you murmur, peeking at the screen.
“She’s my daughter. She can handle it.”
Your laugh folds into his shoulder when you settle back down, and Hyunjin draws you closer without effort, phone set aside again, afternoon light slipping lower over the bed.
Three years later, love no longer feels like a door Hyunjin is hoping will open. It feels chosen, every day and in every direction. And when he kisses the top of your shoulder, just above the place where your skin still remembers what you survived, it is with the quiet certainty of a man whose life has been remade by the people sleeping in hotel rooms on Jeju and the woman breathing softly beside him now.
And tomorrow he will replace the chrysanthemums just starting to wilt in the vase by the kitchen window with fresh ones like he always does. Like he always will continue to do until his dying days.
“I love you,” you whisper.
“I know.” It is not arrogance that makes him say it. Only peace.
❗warnings : a bit of cussing, extreme yearning, stalker-ish (in a /j way), there's no actual warnings for this post... I think??
a/n: little side note! light green text means it's a deleted text , bright green texts means they're blocked LMAO .
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ✩ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
𝑻exts ౨ৎ
(a/n: this is an old post on my banned tiktok account lmao... not coming back to tiktok anytime soon tho so I'll drop all my haikyuu stuff in here too)
𝜗𝜚⋆ dad!hyunjin, mom!reader, they alr have a daughter [5.4k]
A day filled with happiness, laughter and endless cake, hyunjin's sad watching his little girl grow up, his solution? put another baby in you!
breeding, oral (m & f rec), fingering, tit sucking, body worship, size kink, belly bulge, creampie, unprotected sex (shocker), teasing, manhandling, hyunnie is whipped!, lovely in love like literally 90% is them being married and in love.
It was your daughters 3rd birthday, a day filled with toddlers screaming, giggling and just as much fun. Family, friends gathered around in your backyard, decorated in pink, hand painted decorations because Hyewon deserved nothing but the best.
Hyewon, your pride and joy, carried her for 9 long, painful months.
Just for her to be a mini Hyunjin.
The same dramatic flare even at three, the same soft look when they want something, the same mole under their eyes.
Hyunjin was made to be a dad, his soft presence, his caring nature; that belief has only been solidified after Hyewon.
Despite his hectic schedule he never missed anything, every appointment, every milestone he was there. He says its because she knew he'd be sad and she definitely didn't want her appa to be sad.
The suns long set, the pink and orange in the sky fading to blue and black. The chaotic day of constant sound and chaos settling to the distant sounds of dogs barking and contentment.
Inside its similar, the faint humming of the washing machine, Hyewon's sleeping mumbles through the baby monitor.
Your humming along to whatever songs auto playing on your phone, cleaning up the mountain of dishes from today, swapping with Hyunjin — leaving him to wrangle your hyperactive daughter who consumed nearly her body weight in sugar to bed.
You're off in your own thoughts when you suddenly feel Hyunjin's familiar arms wrap around you, halting your cleaning. Feeling Hyunjin relax into you, conditions you to do the same.
Hyunjin's hands roaming over you, holding onto your stomach keeping you in place for him, feeling his forehead resting on your shoulder.
"Little miss is all asleep." His voice quiet, muffled against your skin. You hum slightly, a small smile on your lips, not yet turning to look back at him.
"How'd you manage that?" In response he simply laughs a little bit, the laugh vibrating against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
"Bribery, told her we'd take her to the park tomorrow with Siwoo." He presses a soft kiss to the exposed skin of your shoulder blade.
"Is Chan aware of this play date yet?" You hum in amusement awaiting his answer.
He simply mumbles something incoherent into your shirt, tightening his hold on you.
Putting down whatever plate you were washing, focusing off to the side, the small photo on the window sill; You, Hyunjin and Hyewon when she was first brought home.
Hyunjin's eyes following yours, his whole body softening at the memory.
"She was so small.." His voice almost unsteady, the memories flooding back, only feeling like yesterday his family was started.
"Can't believe shes three, soon shes gonna start school, then high school then college —" Your teasing words causing Hyunjin to groan against you.
"Don't start, shes not even out of preschool yet." His words make you soften, knowing he hates the fact shes growing up, his little girl growing up, growing out of being his mini me. (You doubt the dramatic-ness will fade)
"Maybe its time we think about a little sibling for Hyewon, hm? maybe being a big sister will teach her some responsibility." Teasing him even further, though your words lighthearted it sparks something in him. Expecting a witty response about Hyewon not needing to be responsible yet.
When it doesn't come you don't push, instead he turns you around, hands settling on your hips, taking in your slightly dishevelled appearance from the day, makeup slightly smudged around the eyes, lip gloss long gone — still looking utterly ethereal.
"What?" You say slightly amused, biting back a small smile as you look at him. He doesn't respond with words, his fingers moving to trace over your jawline, captivated by you.
You immediately soften under his touch, your hands holding into his shirt, your thumbs running over the fabric.
He leans over, his lips brushing over yours, not capturing them yet, just settling there, enjoying the ghost of you against him.
Your breath hitches slightly, letting him guide you, not pushing forward, just enjoying him in the moment.
When he finally presses his lips on yours its perfect.
Its not fireworks, its consuming.
Your lips move against each others perfectly, knowing each others rhythm, not rushing to anything, just taking in the moment — the rare moments of tranquility, of quiet.
Enjoying the tender moments, melting into his touch, your fingers moving to thread into his hair, not pulling on it just grounding you to him.
When it breaks its only because you cant breathe, both of you catching your breathes, not daring to part further than necessary. Opening your eyes you meet his, already looking at you.
"You're so beautiful." Its a whisper, it would be inaudible to anyone but you — and that's the point, he doesn't need to flash his love for you, shout words from the rooftop, if you wanted him too he would but he doesn't need to.
His love for you is fierce, all consuming and heavy, its presence its him.
His lips catch on yours again, pulling you into another kiss, this time the kiss deepens, lips moving against each others naturally, holding onto each other, trying to pull each other impossibly closer.
Hyunjin guides you instinctively through the house, carefully avoiding furniture and misplaced toys. Pushing through doors until your in your shared room. Guiding you to the bed, breaking the kiss to help you lay down on the bed.
Settling on your elbows, looking up at him, His white shirt stained with paint from the party, his hair slightly messed up from your hold on it.
Quickly he leans over you, effectively caging you on the bed. Pressing sweet kisses over your face with a smile, one to your cheek, your forehead, your nose, your chin then finally a kiss to your lips.
Its all smiles from both of you, as you cup his jaw as his hands hold himself up above you, falling over ontop of you when you shift under him slightly, breaking the kiss with laughter.
"You're an idiot, Hyune." Your words lacking any malice, smiling against his plush lips. Your fingers carding through his hair, just enjoying him in the moment.
"M'your idiot though.." He mutters against your lips, cradling your face then pressing a soft kiss against your lips, then pressing a kiss to your cheek then to your jaw, peppering soft kisses down the curve.
You cant help but scrunch your nose a little but laughing at his comment, instinctively tilting your head back to give him more room, your fingers massaging his scalp slightly, pulling on the lengths when he nips at your neck.
"Cheesy.." you mumble teasing him, you feel him nip at your neck making you yelp a bit pulling him off your neck to meet your eyes.
There's not an ounce of regret in his eyes, smiling wide looking at you, taking you all in.
"You love me for it." He hums, his fingers tracing down your side before dipping under your shirt, his cold fingers against your warm skin making you shiver under his touch.
"I love you despite it, there's a difference." You sigh dramatically, your cheeks hurting from smiling. He watches as you roll your eyes at him huffing in amusement.
Before you can make another snide comment hes moving, moving away from you only to settle above your stomach, pushing his head under your shirt causing you to make a strained yelp or laugh.
"Careful, gonna wake up the princess if you're not quiet." his words muffled from him muttering against your skin. Hyunjin, whos pressing open mouth kisses against your stomach. Your hands move you hold onto his shoulders.
After hes decided hes too impatient he slips out from under your shirt, he grabs your hands pulling you up to your knees with him. That dopey smile adorn on his lips you cant help smile back at him, your arms settling around his neck, your thumb brushing against the skin of his neck.
"You're so beautiful.." He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear it, your expression quickly softens, your movements halting temporarily.
"Always saying saying that, Hyunnie" You tease softly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.
"Always mean it too, so pretty for me even when you don't think so." His words sharp and honest, the air shifting, the tension growing thicker, more intense.
You cant help but moan slightly at his words, which immediately makes him smile wide, teasingly.
His hold on you is tight but not painful, you can tell you'll be bruised on your hips tomorrow but its worth it.
Hyunjin guides you back down till your head hits the pillows, your chest rising from your uneven breathing. Hyunjin cant help but admire you, the way your hair fans out around you, the way your pupils dilate, how you look at him like he hangs stars.
"You're staring." Your soft voice brings him out of his daze, he doesn't respond verbally not trusting his voice to not break, instead he smiles at you.
His fingers trace the hem of your his shirt, you get the memo, lifting yourself up a bit to help remove your shirt, letting it fall to the other side of the bed.
No matter how many times he's seen you like this his eyes never waver. Looking a you like you were sculpted just for him, like you're the most beautiful being created, and to Hyunjin you are.
He takes a deep breath, taking in the sight of you, his fingers stationary on your stomach.
Only when you mutter his name he comes back to reality, smiling sweetly at you before he leans down and presses a kiss to your stomach.
"Remember how beautiful you looked pregnant?" He whispers against your skin, not yet meeting your eyes, fingers grazing the band of your shorts.
"I could barely get my shoes on in the morning, Hyune." you hum in amusement.
"Doesn't mean you weren't gorgeous — god you were glowing, you always have been breathtaking but seeing you carrying my daughter, you looked divine." His words honest, you know that, hes told you hundreds of times — but this time its different, looking at you with something darker in his eyes.
"Whenever i see you with Hyewon all i can think about is how good you are with her, how amazing of a mother you are — how fucking perfect you'd look pregnant again." You cant help the way your breath hitches at his words, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, which of course he notices.
He finally shuts up, deciding you've been teased enough for now.
He kisses down your stomach, putting extra attention on every stretch mark, every freckle and mole. His fingers hook on your waistband, pulling them down torturously slow, kissing every inch of you.
Your skin tingles everywhere he kisses, your fingers lacing in his hair tugging gently, pulling a groan from him which only makes you bite your lip holding back a laugh.
Hyunjin whos less amused, nips the sensitive skin of your thigh, which makes you smack his head slightly, the vibrations of his laugh making you shiver slightly, Hyunjin's hands holding you firmly in place.
"You're such a tease." He sighs dramatically lifting his head from between your thighs to rest his cheek on one of them, his hand soothing the skin of your other thigh, drawing small shapes on it as he looks up at you with a grin.
"Oh I'm the tease? What am i doing?" You huff in amusement, your fingers running through his hair, not able to take your eyes off his.
"Existing." He says simply, dead serious in his accusation.
"My existence is enough to test your sanity?" You cant help but smile at him, enjoying the way his touch feels against your skin.
He simply hums in agreement his movements stopping suddenly. "Can barely contain myself half the time."
"Only half? — id say its more like 25 —" You're words quickly die on the tip of your tongue when you feel his warm breath against your heat.
Hyunjin's nose ghosts you, taking in all of you.
He stills in front of you, you feel his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, faintly hearing him take a deep breath against you. His tongue suddenly swipes up your slit, you can barely process the sudden pleasure before hes diving against your pussy.
Hyunjin's lips attach your clit, sucking on your aching bud with devotion. His tongue darting around, putting pressure on your clit, you cant help the whimpers that flea your lips, holding onto anything you can, one hand settling in his hair pulling on the dark locks, the other scrunching the silk sheets below you.
"Gotta be quiet, baby — don't wanna wake the princess hm?" he murmurs low against your bundle of nerves, his voice creating vibrations against your clit pulling a choked compliant moan from you, biting your lower lip so hard you might break skin.
Taking a sharp breath as his tongue dips from your clit, running through your folds, lapping up all your slick, his nose nudging against your clit with every lick.
You could swear he was enjoying this just as much — if not more than you, moaning desperately into your pussy despite warning you to be quiet. His moans only escalate when you tug on his scalp, groaning into your cunt.
The quiet night interrupted by your joint moans and mindless whispers echoing through the walls, — thankful you don't live close enough to anyone to be bothered.
"Hyunjin —" your breathed moans only fuelling him further, one of his hands snaking across your thigh, his thumb nudging against your sore clit.
Only for him to pull his face away from your cunt to look at you, forcing you to look back down at him — instantly throwing your head back at the sight.
His hair a mess, a sheen of sweat coating his hairline — the bottom half of his face coated in a mix of your slick and his spit, a stupid sly grin plastered with it.
"Missed her so much — been so focused on planning the perfect party for the princess forgot to take care of my girl ~" Fuck hes not even talking to you, you cant help but try and press your thighs together at him talking to your pussy.
His thumb leaves your clit much to your displeasure — whining as you buck your hips up to try and chase his touch. He simply coos at you pressing a soft hiss to your inner thigh, his fingers parting you with a V taking in the sight of you soaked in front of him.
"Gonna stretch you out so good, baby gotta get you nice and ready f'me" Hyunjin presses a final kiss to your clit before you can feel one of his thick fingers prodding your entrance. He's still at your hole, enamoured with how how your clenching around nothing, how you try bucking up to somehow slip his finger in you, pointless but he admires your efforts none the less.
You can barely hold back your moans, your lip sore from biting back. All you can think about is how good he feels — how you desperately crave more.
Hyunjin's eyes darken as he takes you in, the view of your tight cunt sucking in only one of his fingers, letting out a hum in amusement.
You moan as you feel his finger press into you, the slight fullness barely satiating your need for him. Almost like he can tell his finger curls slightly into you, clenching around his digit.
"S'good for me, baby — gonna take another f'me? Hyunjin coos at you, phrasing it like a question knowing damn well you're desperate for more.
You nod vigorously, breathless moans filling the room, fuelling Hyunjin's motivation — eager to please you above his want to tease you endlessly.
You feel a second finger nudge your entrance — clenching around his other finger — soft whimpers, pleading him for more.
You immediately arch at the feeling of his fingers filling you up so good — fingers curling into his hair and the sheets next to you. Breathless moans escaping you, barely able to be mindful of your volume the feeling of him inside you satisfying your need to be close to him.
"Hyune.." You whine quietly, pleading for him to move, your pleas are short lived when you feel him pull out, thrusting his fingers into your tight hole.
His movements are fast but precise, knowing exactly where to angle his fingers to have you wrecked under him.
"Please — ple-please!! — f-fuck Hyunnie t-much..!!" Your words falling short on any meaning, your hips bucking down to meet his thrusts, moaning helplessly around his fingers as the press against that spot only he can reach.
"Taking me so well — fuck,, clenching me so tight even after all this time." he lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes focused on your cunt, how it sucks him in so well.
You can barely process his words — feeling your orgasm approach quickly — the constant thrusts of his long thick fingers, prodding at your gummy spot — his dishevelled appearance — fuck its too much for any sane person.
"Gonna cum over my fingers, muse — god, you're unreal.." Mumbling to himself at this point — you're barely able to contain yourself, your lips bruised from you biting to try and fail holding back your moans.
Hyunjin dips down, lips lips latching onto your aching clit — the final nail pulling your orgasm from you.
His movements only slow, helping you ride out your orgasm, his lips sucking on your slit softly, tongue flicking it pulling strained whines from you.
When he notices your haze fading he parts from your bud, his fingers slowing its thrusts to a halt completely.
you immediately whine, trying with all your strength to try and thrust up to have any sort of friction. Hyunjin simply holds onto your hips, keeping you in place.
Pulling his fingers from your aching cunt, you whine at the loss of him, quickly silencing yourself when you see him put his fingers in his mouth, sucking the digits. Hyunjin moans at the taste of you, his grip on your hip tightening, his eyes never leave yours.
His fingers pull out with a pop, a small devilish smile gracing his lips as he leans over your body, his hand grazing up your side, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss.
Your hands settle on the back of his neck, pulling him down closer, deepening the kiss. Hyunjin nipping at your bottom lip causing you to moan, taking the chance sticking his tongue in your month, his tongue pressing against yours in a heated kiss.
When you part its for a need for oxygen, neither of you wanting it to end, chasing his lips as he presses a faint kiss to you cheek before pulling back completely.
Quickly you forget how to breathe when he reaches for the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, throwing it to the side. Your breath hitching at the sight of his bare torso, His honey skin adorned with soft freckles from countless trips to the beach with Hyewon — faint marks from previous night, your gaze dropping lower and lower till it focus on the defined 'V' leading to his sweatpants.
"You're staring." He teases barely affecting you, looking up and meeting his eyes finally.
"A lot to stare at, Mr Hwang." You quip back with a smile, a small laugh escaping him as he leans back down, mimicking his actions leaning back down against the mattress.
"Flattery will get you everything Mrs Hwang." He whispers in your ear, a small huff in amusement leaving you.
Pushing him back up, sitting yourself up, your fingers skirting over the waist band of his sweats, his boxers peaking through, smiling to yourself as you look up at him with feigning innocence.
Hyunjin looks away from you, a shakey laugh escaping him as he looks back at you, full of love. "You're unreal."
"You've told me once or twice." you hum, your fingers hooking at the band, slipping both his boxers and sweatpants down enough for him to pull them off, ending up at the foot of the bed.
"Only once or twice? Maybe i need to tell you more." He smiles at you.
He leans back over you, his nose touching yours slightly as his fingers tuck some hair behind your ear, his eyes full and never leaving yours.
"I love you." He whispers softly against your lips, causing you to smile against his.
'Love you more." You whisper teasingly back against his lips.
Hyunjin only pulls back to dramatically sigh, his smile never fading, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Unlikely, muse." He grabs your hands pulling you up to him, his lips attaching to yours instantly.
You melt into the kiss with a sigh, enjoying the quiet intimacy's with him.
Pulling away from the kiss only to press your lips on the slope of his jaw, nibbling at his skin, your fingers squeezing at his biceps.
Pushing him gently against the mattress, falling down with a small huff, a smile still spread on his lips.
Straddling his thighs you take him in under you, the roles reversed.
Noticing immediately his hardened cock twitching against his stomach, your nails dragging along his thigh, Hyunjin letting out small strained sounds, barely holding onto his composure.
Your fingers continue trailing him, scratching down his toned stomach across the small trail of hair leading to his length. Nearly salivating at the sight of his thick cock heavy against his stomach.
Feeling your focused eyes on him he cant help but laugh humorlessly. "Way to make a guy feel nervous, muse."
You hum in response, your hand wrapping around his length, pulling a choked moan from him.
Tightening your grip slightly as your hand moves up and down his cock, your thumb pressing on the sensitive slit of his tip. Pathetic moans leaving his lips, unable to look away from the sight of you with his cock.
Dipping your head to his length, your tongue dips out from your lips, making small kitten like licks on his tip just how he likes it.
Before you can get any further he pulls you off, pushing you back against the pillows, his legs caging your hips.
"What —" You're about to tease him when you notice the flushed look on his face, serious while his eats tinge pink.
'If you went any further i would have been gone before we even started." He says breathlessly, your teasing smile fading as your heart hammers in your chest.
His eyes trained on your chest, your nipples perked from the cold chill in the room, Brainlessly his hands quickly move, his thumb swiping over the sensitive bud.
Your body changed after Hyewon, all parts looking different even years after, but to Hyunjin you've never looked better.
He pulls on your nipple with his thumb and index finger, twisting the sensitive bud, making you whimper. Not leaving the other one aching and unattended he bends down capturing it between his teeth, moaning against the mound.
"Hyune —" you tilt your head back against the pillows, your hand holding onto the back of his head holding him in place against your boob. His fingers halting against your other bud, his full attention on the nipple in his mouth.
His hips grind against your thigh, barely missing your cunt, feeling the heat of him so close but unobtainable, whining from the brushes of pleasure you pull him off your chest, with a groan.
Hyunjin quickly looks up to meet your eyes about to say something that quickly dies on the tip of his tongue when he sees your helpless glossy eyes.
He smiles softly, pressing a quick kiss to your chest before kissing the tip of your nose.
Pulling your thighs apart, settling between them, your legs naturally hooking over his hips.
His hand trails down your side, almost trying to memorised every bit of you, his finger brush over your thigh, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.
Hyunjin leans over you, effectively caging you in, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping his length a few times — soft groans falling from his lips.
He pulls you closer, lining up with your sopping hole, taking in the sight of you wrecked under him.
Desperate pleas fall from your lips, you try rutting your hips to push him in, only forcing his tip to up against your clit — strained moans leaving both your lips.
Hyunjin cant help but exhale, his restraint slowly fading, feeling your slick coat his cock. One of his hands hold onto your hip, the other resting by you.
Slowly his tip breaches your entrance, immediately whimpering at the weight of him pressing into you. Squeezing around his tip — nearly pushing him out, despite the prep you'll never get used to the size of him.
"Pushing me out, mama, fuck — s'tight for me hm?" his tone trying to sooth you despite his teasing words.
You cant help but moan — squirming around under him as you feel his cock going deeper and deeper.
Feeling so full of him — taking over all of your senses, the taste of his cock — his lips lingering, the scent of his cologne on his pillows the faint pants and moans fleeing from his lips.
The room echos every small sound — from Hyunjin's breathed moans, your sweet whines and the wet slicked sound of him in you.
Your hands grip at his shoulders, nails scratching against his skin — a small hiss escaping his lips. Feeling his hips meet yours when hes fully pressed into is a sensation you'll never grow tired of, the pleasureful stretch of him, unable to tell where he ends and you start.
Faint moans slip from Hyunjin's lips at you squeezing him, moving closer you you, leaning on his elbows for support.
"Not g-gonna last, muse — fuck." His voice breaks, ragged from pleasure — your tight warm walls feeling like heaven around him.
His head dips to lean against your shoulder, leaving wet kisses against your skin. You pull him off your shoulder, capturing his lips in a heated kiss with no rhythm, sucking on his bottom lip.
Hyunjin pulls back with a heavy breath, his adjusting so he can run his fingers through your hair.
When you open your eyes, they immediately meet his dark ones, the small moan that slips out is involuntary as he takes a sharp breath, looking back in your eyes asking if your ready.
When he pulls back you miss the heavy feeling of him in you — instantly taking it back when you feel him thrust deeply back into you. The slow drag of his hips only to thrust into you hard.
The slick sounds of his cock pushing into your tight cunt, the feeling of your walls fluttering around him with every mean thrust. His tip intentionally grazing that sweet spot with every thrust.
"H-hyunnie — fuck!" Your moans raising slightly as the pleasure becomes unbearable, feeling sensitive from your previous orgasms. Hyunjin shushes you with a quick kiss, his lips stationary on yours as his trusts grown less strategic and needier.
"Need you to be quiet f'me, yeah muse? — gonna wake our princess if you're not careful. He smiles against your lips. Despite his words it only urges him to fuck you harder into the mattress. Pulling back from you, his hands sliding down you hips, holding you in place his thrusts quickening.
"J-Just as good as when i had you the first time — fuck maybe even better, so perfect for me yeah? my perfect girl." His praise barely registering to either of you, Hyunjin murmuring incoherently completely overtaken by the feeling of you.
Hyunjin only pushes your body further, hooking your leg over his arm, his thrusts going deeper and rougher — your sobbed moans only serving as encouragements.
"S-so good for me, can feel you everywhere, yeah? Look at you, muse." His breathing even as his cock drills into your pussy.
When you manage to open your eyes you expect to find his meeting yours but no — their focused on your stomach, the small bump of him in you, stretching you out so good. You cant help but squeeze your eyes shut tilting your eyes back as you mewl biting your lip.
The sound Hyunjin makes when you see the bulge hes making in your stomach teeters on a growl.
"Taking me so good, baby ~ fuck look at you —" His hand moves to your stomach — pushing down on the bulge, pulling senseless moans from you.
"Can feel me everywhere, huh baby? — gonna fill you so good, its gonna take, yeah?" You can tell hes getting close, his rough thrusts growing sloppier.
Feeling you clench at the thought makes him laugh breathlessly, sucking air through his teeth, the rough thrusts now with purpose.
"Ohhh~ you like that, hm? Filling you up over and over again till it takes? Have everyone know who you belong to — reminding e-everyone only i can make you feel this good, yeah?" Your moans only fuelling his impending orgasm, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing harsh figure 8s on the oversensitive bud.
The duel sensation of his mean sloppy thrusts and the sweet relief of your aching clit getting attention makes your orgasm build quickly, Hyunjin mumbling barely audible sweet nothings in your ear pushing you to the break, shaking and clenching hard around him as your orgasms bursts.
Hyunjin follows instantly after you, the feeling of you squeezing him and you moaning his name as you cum.
His movements only slow, helping you both ride out your orgasms together, the intensity of them fading into bliss.
Hyunjin's small thrusts into you only stop when you wince in overstimulation, quickly apologising with a small kiss to your shoulder. Both of you catching your breath trying to calm yourselves.
Hyunjin collapses onto you with a dramatic huff, burying his face into your neck.
You can help but laugh, the air being forced out of you as your husband lands on you. Your shaking hands run through his hair, the roots damp with sweat, humming as you feel his heart beat against yours.
"You're gonna crush me." you tease, your throat sore from your endless moans from earlier.
"You'll be fine." His words muffled against your hair, only for him to sigh sitting up slightly to lean his chin against your chest looking up at you with his signature grin.
"You're ridiculous." Smiling wide at him, your fingers massaging his scalp.
He hums slightly, enjoying the feelings of your fingers in his hair. "You enjoy my ridiculousness." He says matter of factly.
Your smile only softens in response, only then realising that hes still inside you, the feeling not unpleasant at all, comforting almost.
"Get up, need to clean up." you sigh dramatically, Hyunjin only groaning in response, neither of you making any effort to move.
"Keeping you all to myself, just a bit longer." Burying his face into your chest making you laugh.
You smile wide, enjoying the moment; no work, no members screaming, no crying child — just you and him enjoying the small window of alone time.
"I meant it, by the way." He says after a moment looking at you.
You hum absent minded, fingers drawing shapes on his back. "What?"
"Wanting another kid, giving Hyewon a sibling." His words stopping your movements on his back, looking back at him, his eyes already on you, serious.
"Yeah?" You cant help the smile that breaks out on your face, one quickly spreading on Hyunjin's face.
He only nods, confirming. "I think we're ready — plus Won would make a good sister."
You hum, "You mean teaching them how to have you wrapped around your finger and how to milk all their uncles for everything a child could want?"
"Exactly that." His fingers tuck some hair behind your ear.
You take a deep breath, not believing what you're gonna say. "Okay."
Hyunjin perks up at your confirmation. "Okay?" His voice full of excitement.
You nod, the smile making your cheeks hurt but you wouldn't have it any other way.
"I guess its time to get to work." He says with a cheshire grin, before you can even say anything his lips move down your body. Making quick work on his earlier promise.
➥ Contains: Astronomically horny inexperienced Hyunjin who is the human embodiment of the 🥺 emoji, 306.7 on the Dewey Decimal System, unbelievable amounts of cluelessness, cuteness aggression that makes you wanna fuck him harder
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Corruption fetishism
➥ You have legitimately thought the hot dude on the hookup app was faking cluelessness to troll you, but running into him at the library indeed confirms he's just... clueless. Naturally, new side quest unlocked: Corrupt his ass.
*a/n: i ♡ pathetic fictional men. going on a subby!skz bender, I'll see u on the other side.
“No. Nuh uh. Nope. HELL NAH. Nope.”
You’re about to rip your hair out from how boring your night is progressing, but you don’t feel like going out either. Who has the energy to frickin commute just to ogle hot guys downtown in 3 degrees Celsius? You can still ogle them from the comfort of your own bed, while pantless for that matter, in case something strikes your fancy juuust right.
Thus the swipe galore on the app reserved to entertain you on nights like this.
You have no intention of inviting someone over or meeting them out. All you seek is a bit of an ego boost over your hottest body shots, a bit of sexting to get the juices literally flowing, and the second you finish, adios motherfucker. The first few matches are predictably a bust. No one even has the courtesy of building up to it anymore, straight up cannonballing into “Nudes?”
But amidst the ocean of dick pics and gymbro thirst traps, an eccentric profile stands out like a sore thumb with a dumpling picture as the avatar.
googlehwangouts (26)
just trying my luck
“Pfft, loser,” you snort to yourself.
You click on the profile to check him out, and the only thing missing is the literal word “DESPERATION” slapped in there somewhere. Either this guy is a legit virgin, or someone out there is trolling people in the name of a “social experiment”. HOWEVER…
Loser or not, the dude’s personal gallery also stands out, but it’s a different kind of standout. A really striking one, which is a bit sus.
You swipe right and send him a message.
me
no way these pics are yours poser
googlehwangouts
??
hello to you too
why would i put someone else on my profile
me
google catfishing hwangouts
googlehwangouts
wait
are you saying people might use my pics?
youre not gonna do that are you??? thats very mean
“OH MY GOD, IS THIS GUY FOR REAL?” you yell to yourself in your bedroom, appalled at the answers you’re receiving. That’s too corny to be fake, but also way too clueless to be real.
me
ofc not
tell u what if you snap a pic of yourself rn i’ll believe it’s you
googlehwangouts
[img_0320.jpeg]
NAH.
This has to be a troll. Now you’re even more conflicted because Hangouts guy matches the pictures perfectly, and he is FUCKING GORGEOUS even in Netflix-and-Chill couture. Reclining on his bed, one arm tucked under his nape, he looks insanely tempting, and you’re supposed to believe no one’s bouncing on it all day every day, like…?
THIS man is trying his luck?
googlehwangouts
your turn
There is a decision to be made here now.
You’re really not in the mood to entertain a troll, but on the off chance that he’s legit, this is a golden opportunity. A super cute, hot as fuck, desperate-for-action guy might be waiting for you on the other side, ready to get his brain fried. Despite your better judgement, your curiosity wins the race against logic by the narrowest of margins, and you find yourself snapping a picture of your pussy, making sure the lighting captures enough gloss. Then you hit Send and eagerly await his reaction.
You’re dying laughing because in your head, he is ACTUALLY kicking his feet in his bed and hahahaing right now. You can’t believe the direction your night is taking, but you have to see this in person.
me
wanna meet up?
Well, at least you had all the intention to until technology suddenly decided to go, “Bitch, sit your ass down.”
Error: Can’t connect.
Oh no.
You try sending the message again and again, but it won’t go through. You click on his profile, but it doesn’t open. You quit the app and log back in as a Hail Mary, and at long fucking last—
The chat is completely gone.
OH NO.
“The guy’s name... What was the guy’s name?!” you frantically ask yourself as if the app has a search feature, on the verge of angry tears. “Well, thank you internet for ruining yet another fucking Saturday!!!”
Overall, 12/10 night, huh?
On the frustration scale, that is.
Struggling noises are coming out of you as you walk into the library with a shelf’s worth of books, questioning how come a digital version for every book in existence is still not yet available. The stack in your arms is so high that you can’t even see two centimeters ahead, and you try your best to map your route from memory.
“Alright, Gerda. Here are your overdue books back, so please stop spamming my inbox,” you slam the miniature Pisa tower on the counter. “How much do I owe?”
“$22.50.”
NAH.
No, it’s not the egregious amount of late fees you have to pay; it’s who you’re going to pay it to that parts your lips open, and you briefly consider the possibility of thesis-prep-induced psychosis. The same big glasses, the same chain necklace, the same full lips are right there before you, and the name tag says Hwang Hyunjin.
It’s fucking Hangouts guy!
Are you drooling? You’re probably drooling.
“Is there something on my face?” he asks, not sarcastically at all.
YEAH THE LACK OF MY PUSSY??? is almost what you blurt out, but thankfully, your “functional society member” autopilot activates just at the right time to save you from a lifetime of embarrassment.
“HUH? No, not at all,” you shake your head and reach for your wallet.
As he processes the payment, you start examining him, maybe a bit too intensely, getting slightly mad at his out-of-this-world looks. Who the absolute FUCK looks like this? WHY is he “just trying his luck” in horny corners of the internet? Sure, he has a much more wholesome aura to him compared to the raging frat bros dominating the campus, but if he asks right now, you’ll still probably be down to suck his dick, like, is he not aware of how gorgeous he is?
When he gives you your receipt, your hands touch for the briefest moment, and you kinda get your answer.
He instantly turns beet red.
Fact tally—this guy is ridiculously hot, extremely shy, desperate enough to lurk on hookup apps for some action, but with a fucking dumpling picture instead of his million-dollar face, which makes him look like a badly made fake profile…
JACK—FUCKING—POT!
“Just so you know, the app glitched the other night. I didn’t quit the conversation,” you knowingly tell him in a hushed tone. “Do you still really wanna fuck me, Hwangouts?”
Oh, it’s confirmation galore when his face changes like he’s witnessing a brutal car crash. There is absolutely no room for doubt that you were talking to him the other night, and he’s so fucking cute that you have to exert massive effort to suppress the cuteness aggression noises that’s otherwise going to come out of you.
The pornhub in your mind is hyperactive, already putting him in all kinds of scenarios, all ending with you blowing his mind. He definitely has star student potential for pussy eating tutoring, so eager, so ready to please. Oh, he’d be so cute cumming all over his fist. Does he blush after he cums, too? Is he the clingy-after-sex kind? Because you’d so kiss those cheeks and let him climb you like a koala bear and just hhhhnnngghhhh…
“Hyunjin, can you come to the back for a second?!” Gerda calls out to him, effectively shattering your horny delusions.
“This isn’t over,” you whisper to him with a crooked smile, and while leaving his chair, Hyunjin almost topples over himself, unable to peel his eyes off of you like he’s in a trance.
When you leave the circulation desk that day, your Hyunsession officially kicks off.
Sure, you could just directly ask him out, and if his general demeanor is any indication, he’ll say yes in a heartbeat, but where’s the fun in that? Changing a touch-starved man’s life is not something to be rushed; you fully intend to savor every single moment of this experience.
No more overdue books for you. You’re at the library every day.
You set up camp there under the guise of doing thesis work, whereas all you do is watch Hwangouts do smart shit like it’s your bespoke red flag porn. The last you checked, you didn’t have a nerd fetish or anything, but this dumpling has definitely given you one, and you don’t really understand what it exactly is. Yes, he’s really cute, but that’s not the part that gives you Victorian levels of hysteria. It’s when he tutors people, says big words, and does quick math that a tear runs down your thighs for some reason.
Part of your daily routine is checking out different books regardless of how relevant they are to your research, as well as Hyunjin from head to toe. You always make sure your hands touch when you take the books from him, and watching him turn into a ripe tomato every time without fail pushes you closer and closer to losing your shit entirely. But you don’t talk. You never initiate a conversation.
It’s called edging, okay?
You just smile at him during your brief interactions, watching him swallow thickly as if you’re reciting the steamiest smut into his ear, and if he could look you in the eye, he would know. There are things he definitely notices, though, but only because they aren’t anywhere near your face.
The cute bras you wear, for example.
He thinks he’s being subtle peeking at your cleavage every time you lean into the desk, but he’s so not subtle, always shifting in his place to seemingly fix something under that counter, or suddenly sweating when he meets your eyes like he’s busted stealing. Well, because he is.
He steals so many glances that it’s at kleptomaniac levels at this point.
The thing is, when you drop stuff in his line of sight, or when you let slip tiny moans while heaving deep sighs, it’s all deliberate. You do it on purpose, fully aware of what kind of an effect it will have on him. Whereas Hyunjin is doing something, and you’re almost positive he doesn’t even make the connection in his head.
Motherfucker has no idea what that lollipop he constantly has in his mouth is doing to you, and one fateful night, you naturally fucking snap.
“Hi.”
Hyunjin stares at you for a good five seconds as he determines if he’s hallucinating the sound of your voice. When you softly chuckle at his aghast expression, he concludes that he has died and that his assigned angel is on welcome duty.
Wild assumption that he would end up in heaven when he constantly motorboats the cute bra girl in his head, but you get the idea.
“H–Hi,” he responds almost with no sound.
“There is a book I want on the 13th floor, but I can’t reach it,” you put your elbows on the desk and lean in. “Can you help me?”
He can’t fucking help it, okay?! They are right there in his face, perfectly framed for that matter, and as an incorrigible art whore, he’s conditioned to appreciate fine work.
“Sure,” he stands up to his feet, making sure he ties his flannel shirt around his waist first.
He follows you to the elevator, and the ride upstairs is so suffocatingly silent that you can almost hear yourself squeal. Obviously, there is a reason you’ve picked this floor. One, it’s emptier than what his balls will be like quite soon, and two, there is a shelf here that is of great strategic importance.
HQ306.7.
“There,” you point at the top shelf.
Hyunjin pulls the book for you, and of course checks what you are so interested in so close to midnight in the Sexual Relations section. He furiously blushes when he sees the title reads Kama Sutra: The Complete Collection.
“Here,” he hands you the book while looking at his shoes. “It’s a great read.”
You have to bite inside your cheeks not to burst out laughing. Of course he has read it, fucking munchkin, why are you even surprised?
“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask out of nowhere, paying zero mind to making a smooth segue, and Hyunjin damn near catches on fire.
“W–WHY? Why— I’m— Ask— My— Why?”
HE’S SO CUTE WHAT THE FUCK?!
“I was just curious if you had someone to practice this with,” you nonchalantly shrug, expertly contradicting your violent inner meltdown. “It’s kinda insane to me that your dick still hasn’t eroded from getting so much head.”
It’s a fascinating phenomenon. You just stare at his cock, and it gets hard. Well, hard might not be the correct word because those jeans are about to go bye-bye.
And the way his eyes go out of focus, he’s clearly imagining it!
“I… don’t,” he finally answers in a small voice.
If he keeps being this sweet, you’re gonna sink your teeth into him. You’re gonna lick him to depletion like the lollipops he loves so much. You’re gonna gobble him up in one bite. He needs to cut it out immediately!
“So you’re telling me,” you take one step towards him, voice one octave lower, and ghost your hand over his crotch, “there’s no one to suck this every night?”
His eyes widen like you’ve just committed an unspeakable abomination, and that much is enough answer for you. You take one more step, getting close enough to him to feel the seizure-worthy fever he exudes, and his eyes close on their own.
“N–No,” he responds in an exhale.
“How long can you last if I sit on it?”
“I… can’t…”
“Or would you cum as soon as I touch you?”
“Please…”
“Or maybe you’re so pathetic,” you gently push him against the shelf, your hand sneaking around his throat, “that I can make you cum just with my words.”
“You’re s–so mean. Fuck…”
“Then why are you this hard for me?” you whisper against his lips. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”
He can’t talk. He barely remembers how to breathe when you unzip him. Those few seconds feel like hours to both of you, but it’s so satisfying in some sick, twisted way. You’re a bit confused when you wrap your fingers around him, but when you take his cock out, you’re full-on dumbfounded.
Because what in the fucking Chernobyl?!
“You’re huge!” your jaw inadvertently drops.
“R–Really?” he looks at you in confusion.
“You’re fucking with me, right?” you protest, all exasperated. “Have you not seen any porn at all?”
“I mostly watch pussy closeups,” he replies, genuinely not understanding why you’re reacting like this.
“Pussy closeups,” you repeat, chuckling to yourself. “That’s just so you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your lips are so sexy, I think I’m gonna die if I don’t feel them on my pussy,” you swipe your thumb on his bottom lip and drag it down.
It comes as a very pleasant surprise when Hyunjin takes your finger in his mouth and sucks on it. You take his hand and put it under your skirt. He shivers for the briefest moment, but then he suddenly…
…turns into something.
He quickly pulls you in and switches places with you, trapping you between the shelf and himself. You wait for him to kiss you, but it never comes. You watch him kneel before you instead. He drags your panties down, looking up at you with gigantic eyes, and you fervently nod in response to encourage him. He lets out a comically heavy exhale, in disbelief that he’s actually facing a very real pussy like he’s hypnotized.
“Kiss it,” you order him quietly.
He holds onto your hips for support, then buries his face in your cunt. You told him to kiss to mean a tender peck, but when he starts making out with your clit unprompted, you make a mental note to call the psych ward to make a reservation.
Turns out, video training is real, and all those pussy closeups are coming in very handy right now.
“Oh my—god, Hyunjin…” you throw your head back, getting weaker and weaker in the knees.
You hold his head in place and start riding his face, and he just surrenders to you to let you use him however you want. He’s so obedient, so dangerously obedient that possessiveness suddenly rears its ugly head within you. You’ve claimed him. He’s yours now. If anyone wants a Hyunjin, they need to fucking go find their own because this smart cookie is you-parking-only from now on.
You spread your lips more, and he immediately latches onto your clit, happily humming as he sucks on it. You’re about to go crazy, completely melting in his mouth. Your eyes flutter close on their own with how lost you are in ecstasy, but out of nowhere, he squeezes your hips like he’s trying to say, “Look at me. Pay attention to me.”
He wants you to watch him.
Of course. Of course you’ll look at him. You’ll look at his impossibly gorgeous face. You’ll look into those soft brown eyes. You’ll look right at the spot his tongue connects to your core and licks your sanity out of you.
You’ll look right into his soul when he makes you cum.
“Good?” he asks through a loud slurp. “Am I doing good?”
“You’re doing fucking incredible,” you sigh, running your fingers through his silky locks.
His happy eating doesn’t last long. The fervent licks come to an abrupt halt, and he looks like he’s in mild pain.
“What’s wrong?” you furrow your brows with concern.
“If I keep doing it… I’m gonna cum,” he confesses.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Just… a few seconds,” he rests his head on your thighs. “Until I calm down.”
But you don’t let him calm down. You tap his shoulders instead and pull him up. You caress his face. You kiss his lips. But when you touch his cock, he jolts like he’s been electrocuted.
“You don't understand,” he squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m really gonna—”
“Cum, I know,” you reassuringly smile at him. “If you promise to clean up your mess, you can do it inside me.”
You turn around and arch your ass for him, and that something he has turned into reaches its final form. You can swear you’ve heard a little growl come out of him. All he does is press his tip against your sodden entrance, but he’s already breathing heavily behind you. He takes forever to fully sink into you, extremely vigilant not to do any sudden moves, because otherwise…
All that carefulness, yet you still feel like you’re being split open.
His thrusts are so languid, but the sound of his skin against yours is insane. Your moans in his ears are insane. The sheer feeling of being inside you is insane.
Hyunjin’s going clinically insane, and he won’t be able to hold back anymore, no matter how much he resolves to.
He swiftly turns you around and pushes you against the shelf, wrapping one leg around his waist. He immediately aligns himself with you again, but this time he slides in with so much force that you see white.
“S–So full… God, don’t stop,” you claw his shoulders. “Fuck me dumb.”
“Ngh, kiss…” he whines.
He can’t even last until he receives his very wet kiss from you. Just two swirls of your tongue around his, and he completely falls apart. His soul leaves his body as he keeps moaning into your mouth, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead. His frantic thrusts eventually come to a halt, and he looks utterly beat, yet he’s so cute that you wanna just cuddle him right there on the floor.
But as if he’s shot himself with an overdose of adrenaline, he suddenly perks up and drops to his knees, picking up where he’s left off like a starved animal. He holds onto your hips again and sticks his tongue out, making you rub your pussy on the slippery surface.
Definitely a move copped from the closeups.
“Oh, fuck… Fuck, yes, like that. Like that, oh my god HYUNJIN!!!”
Oh, he looks so proud as he watches you dismantle into your atoms; that’s the most sinister smile you’ve ever seen a man flash. You burst into a laughter fit with how hard you’ve cum, and he can’t help but laugh along with you. He looks beautiful when he smiles. Once both your feet touch the ground, however, he’s being a gentleman for no reason at all, putting your pants back up and fixing your hair, something you’re not used to at all. You suddenly get this urge to kiss him. You kiss him long and deep. You kiss him until you sweep him off his feet again.
You taste fucking fantastic on his tongue.
“Can I get your number?” you request, voice super fucked out.
“M–MINE?”
“I mean…” you look around, “I don’t see anyone else here.”
Poor baby, that must be the most violent post-nut clarity he’s experiencing, and it makes you giggle just to think about it. He saves his number on your phone, and as soon as you get it back, you snap a picture of your still-throbbing pussy and send it to him.
“There. That can be my contact picture,” you put the phone away. “What time are you getting out?”
“Midnight,” he answers, averting his eyes from you as if he wasn’t the one decimating you just ten seconds ago.
“Wanna come over?” you play with his collar.
“For… For what?” he asks, but you can’t hold back the excess endearment anymore and burst into hearty laughter.
“So I can sit on your face when I suck your dick,” you smirk at him.
“Can I… do things to it again?” he keeps intently examining the floor, still unable to hold your gaze. “With my mouth and stuff…”
“Yes, you can,” you gently bite his lips and pull him into a deep kiss.
You wait for him outside as he gets a little scolding from Gerda right before closing. It hasn’t even been thirty three seconds, yet as soon as you leave the library, you get a text from Hyunjin.
HUNGouts
sorry i came in 33 seconds i love u
“Pfft, loser,” you snort to yourself with gigantic hearts shooting out of your eyes.
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to make Hyunjin whine for a kiss.
Reader always denys liking him, in fact promised her friend she doesn’t and won’t ever like him.
But going out she drinks too much and ends up call/messaging (Maybe Jeongin or Hyunjin it doesn’t matter who tbh.)
Thank you - P👹
MIDNIGHT CONFESSION 💬
HWANG HYUNJIN x READER
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ about: fluff. hwang yeji as hyunjin’s sister and reader’s best friend. drunk reader confesses to hyunjin.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ notes: hello P 👹 !! this was such a cute idea. thx for requesting. i hope you like it!
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🦙 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
You promised Yeji. Promised her you didn’t like her brother, Hyunjin. That he was just her brother — nothing more. Nothing worth thinking about.
But promises made under sober light rarely hold up when the night gets darker and the drinks keep coming.
Now, sitting on your bed with the buzz of the alcohol fuzzing every nerve, your phone glows in the dark. His name stares back at you, like a dare. Like a secret waiting to be spilled.
You bit your lip and tap his name. No. You shouldn’t.
But the words spill out anyway.
Hey juunjin… um, so, I kniw i told Ywji I din’t like you or anythinf, but… tgats kimda a lie? MaybeEe?
You stare at the message, heart pounding as the bubbles of panic mix with a strange thrill. What if he doesn’t laugh it off? What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if Yeji finds out?
You promised her you wouldn’t. You promised you wouldn’t make things weird.
But you guess promises don’t count when your guard is down and your feelings are too loud to ignore.
Maybe, just maybe, this drunken confession is exactly what you needed.
Because you’re tired of pretending.
You like him.
You’ve liked him for longer than you should have.
And tonight, the truth is finally slipping out.
You woke up with a pounding headache and a blurry fog clouding your mind. Your room was too bright, the sunlight streaming through the curtains like it was trying to punish you for last night’s choices.
Slowly, you reached for your phone on the nightstand, your fingers clumsy and stiff. The screen lit up immediately, and your eyes caught a notification — a message from Hyunjin.
You blinked, heart skipping.
HYUNJIN: Wow, didn’t expect that at 2 AM. Honestly, I always thought you were way too cool for me to even notice. But I’m glad you told me. Doesn’t change anything — except now I’m kinda curious. Want to talk when you’re sober?
You stared at the screen, mind racing. What did this even mean? Did he… like you back?
Panic hit hard and fast. Your thumb trembled over the keyboard.
Oh no. What have you done?
You promised Yeji. Promised you’d never like him.
And now… maybe you’d just ruined everything.
Your breath hitched. How do you fix something you didn’t even mean to start?
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The doorbell rang, breaking through the jumble of thoughts swirling in your head. You sighed and shuffled to the door, already feeling on edge.
When you opened it, Yeji was there, holding a small bottle of water and that familiar teasing grin.
“I heard you got pretty drunk last night. Figured I’d check if you’re still alive,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
You tried to smile, but it came out tight and forced. You felt jittery, like your heart was doing a sprint.
Yeji’s eyes narrowed, scanning you carefully.
“You’re acting... different,” she said, crossing her arms. “Like, more nervous than usual. Your hands are shaking. And you keep avoiding eye contact. What’s going on?”
You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of how you were fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, biting your lip like a teenager caught sneaking out.
“I’m fine,” you lied, but your voice was barely above a whisper.
Yeji didn’t buy it for a second. She took a step closer, her tone softening but still firm.
“Come on, you can tell me. What’s got you all weird and twitchy?”
Your throat tightened. You knew you couldn’t keep hiding the truth forever. Especially from your best friend.
You took a deep breath, heart thudding so loud you could barely hear your own thoughts.
“Okay,” you said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “You remember how I said I don’t like Hyunjin?”
Yeji’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Yeah…?”
You winced. “That was a lie.”
She blinked.
“Last night,” you continued, “I was drunk and—god, this is so embarrassing—I texted him. Like, really texted him. I told him I liked him. And he replied. And now I’m spiraling because I promised you I wouldn’t ever feel that way about him, and I feel like I messed up so badly.”
You finally looked at her, bracing for the storm. The betrayal. The classic, “Are you serious right now?” response you’d imagined all day.
But it never came.
Yeji just… blinked again. And then smiled, almost like she pitied you. “That’s it?”
“…What?”
“I thought you were going to tell me you crashed my car or something,” she said with a snort. “Of course I already knew.”
“You—wait—what?”
She plopped down next to you on the couch. “You’re not exactly subtle. The way you act when he is in the same room? You’re like a kid waking up on Christmas morning. I’ve known for months.”
You just stared, mouth half-open. “Then… why didn’t you say anything?”
Yeji shrugged. “Because I didn’t want to make it weird. And because I love you both. It’s just that if something ever did happen between you guys, I didn’t want to feel like I had to pick sides if things got messy.”
Your chest tightened. “So… you’re not mad?”
She smiled, softer now. “No. Honestly, I think you’re good for him. Just… don’t break each other, okay? I don’t need my best friend and my brother dragging me into a love war.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.
Relief washed over you like a wave.
“…So, you’re saying I don’t have to pretend I hate him anymore?”
“Oh no, keep that up,” she said with a grin. “It’s entertaining.”
Then, she dug into her tote bag and pulled out a bright yellow bottle.
“Here,” she said, unscrewing the cap and handing it to you. “Hangover drink. You look like you died and came back with regret.”
You sniffed it suspiciously. “What even is this?”
“Liquid painkiller,” she said, pushing it into your hands. “Now drink it.”
You groaned but drank it. It was bitter and awful, but she looked satisfied.
Yeji leaned back against the couch with a smirk. “Can’t believe I’m enabling my best friend’s crush on my brother. Should I just start calling you sister-in-law now and get it over with?”
You nearly choked.
“Yeji!”
She cackled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you’ve already picked baby names.”
You threw a pillow at her face. She ducked, still laughing — and for the first time all day, you did too.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
It had been three months since that night — the drunk text, the confession, the panic. And somehow, through a few awkward conversations, a lot of teasing, and one very soft, very surprising kiss on Hyunjin’s part… you ended up here.
Dating.
Officially.
Hyunjin’s hand was warm in yours as both of you sat on the couch, legs tangled, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders. You were watching some dumb variety show, laughing at something ridiculous on the screen, when the front door burst open.
Yeji walked in like a storm, dropping her bag by the door, mid-rant. “Okay, who keeps stealing my almond milk from the fridge because—”
She stopped.
Her eyes landed on you and Hyunjin, curled up on the couch like a literal drama scene — and then she groaned dramatically, loud enough to shake the walls.
“Ugh, again? You guys are always cuddling like you’re in a rom-com I didn’t ask to subscribe to!”
Hyunjin didn’t even flinch. He just smirked and tightened his arm around you. “Sorry, Yeji. We’ll try to make it more PG next time.”
“Please do,” she said, flopping onto the armchair with a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe my two favorite people are in love. It’s cute. Disgusting, but cute.”
You laughed, leaning into Hyunjin a little more. “You’re the one who said you were fine with it.”
“Yeah, emotionally, I’m fine with it,” she said, grabbing a cushion and covering her face dramatically. “But physically? I’m being assaulted by secondhand affection. I need sunglasses just to exist near you two.”
Hyunjin reached over with a wicked grin and tossed a popcorn kernel at her.
“Get used to it,” he said, pulling you even closer. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Yeji peeked over the pillow, narrowing her eyes at him. Then at you. Then sighed.
“God help me when you two start slow dancing in the kitchen or whatever gross couple stuff comes next.”
You couldn’t help but laugh as Hyunjin kissed your temple, smug as ever.
Yeji groaned again. “I miss when you hated each other.”
“You mean when I pretended to hate him so I wouldn’t break your trust?” you teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that era. Bring her back.”
Kuroo was having a bad hair day, but it wasn't him who was having one; it was his six-year-old, who begged him to tie her hair in two pigtails and wanted the part straight down the middle.
On the first attempt the part was crooked; she cried.
On the second attempt the pigtails were lopsided, and she also cried again.
On the third attempt, she said, "Why don't we just get Mommy?" Tears soaked through her lashes, cheeks puffed out, and all he could do was sigh.
It was your day off; of course he didn't want to wake you, but with the way that everything was going, he'd be late for work, and she'd be late for school, and her lunch was barely packed. It wasn't that he was a bad dad; no, in fact, he's the perfect dad. He helps with homework and tucks her into bed while reading her bedtime stories; it was just that he had a hard time when it came to hair.He tried; he really did. He used the brush to get it just right, sprayed a little water to smooth it down, and used gel; everything just wasn't working. So, begrudgingly, he dragged his feet to the bedroom, cracking the door open, his fingers tangled in between his own messy hair.
"Babe, you have to help me." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, watching your sleeping form stir.
“Mommy, Daddy is struggling again." She was clearly not amused by the situation as her little hands tugged at the blankets.
“Mhm, I'm up," you spoke, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, sitting up.
"I'm really sorry; I think my hands might be broken." He felt so bad for waking you; your dazed, sleepy state made you look like you could fall back asleep at any moment. Your daughter climbed onto the bed, one side of her head in a ponytail, the other down.
“Aw, look at you; let's get you ready for school." You place messy kisses all over her face, making her giggle and kick her legs before picking her up and taking her to the bathroom.
“I tried it, I really did." One hand was on his hip, the other running through his hair. He watched closely as you went over the part, swooping each section of hair into a perfect ponytail that was way more even than whatever he had going on before.“
See, just like that!” Kuroo had been looking like you just did the impossible.
“That's good, right?” You bent down to hear her response before she gave you a small kiss on the cheek.
“That's a yes then," you giggled, giving her another sweet kiss on the cheek. Then moving to give your husband a kiss.
[𑣲] I Take You as My Wedded—
↳ Hyunjin (STRAY KIDS) x Reader
genre: romance / fluff / slight angst / idol!au
wc: ~3.5k
summary: after years of loving each other in secret, hyunjin finally makes it official—but one accidental moment during a livestream exposes their marriage, pulling their quiet love into the spotlight.
➛ @fics-lovebot hope you like it!!! <33
— 🍋: HELP I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED WIHTOUT FINISHING THE FORMATTING HELPPPPPPPPLPLP. anyways... so I WANNA DO A FULL VERSION OF THIS SPECIAL 😭😭😭😭 pls i feel so crazy when i say that Hyunjin screams romance.
The ring never left your finger.
Not when you slept.
Not when you showered.
Not even when you absentmindedly played with it during quiet mornings.
And Hyunjin noticed.
Every single time.
𖹭
Wedding planning was something.
Chaos.
Absolute chaos.
"You cannot be serious," you said, staring at the tablet.
Hyunjin sat across from you, legs crossed, completely calm.
"I like it."
"You picked three venues."
"I couldn’t decide."
"You booked all of them."
He shrugged. "Options."
You dropped your head into your hands.
"This is insane."
A pause.
Then his hand reached across the table, gently pulling yours away from your face.
His thumb brushed over your ring.
Soft. Absentminded. Loving.
"We can cancel two," he said quietly.
You peeked at him. "You swear?"
A small smile.
"...Probably."
You narrowed your eyes.
He laughed.
𖹭
The members made everything worse.
—or better.
Depending on who you asked.
"Do NOT let Hyunjin pick the flowers," Seungmin said flatly.
"Why?" you asked.
"He’ll make it look like a royal funeral," Minho added.
"I have taste," Hyunjin argued.
"You have drama," Jisung corrected.
Felix leaned toward you, whispering, "He cried looking at peonies yesterday."
"I did not—"
"You did," Jeongin grinned.
Chan just smiled softly from the corner.
"He’s just happy."
Hyunjin went quiet for a second.
Then glanced at you.
And yeah—
He was.
𖹭
Dress shopping was supposed to be simple.
It wasn’t.
You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the fabric slightly.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Well?" you asked softly.
No answer.
You turned—
And froze.
Hyunjin stood there.
Completely still.
Eyes wide.
Like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
"Say something," you laughed nervously.
He didn’t.
He just walked closer.
Slow. Careful.
Like you might disappear.
His hand lifted—
hesitated—
then gently touched the fabric at your waist.
"...This is it," he whispered.
Your heart skipped.
"You’re sure?"
He looked at you like the answer was obvious.
"I’ve never been more sure about anything."
𖹭
The wedding day arrived too fast.
Too real.
Too everything.
Hyunjin stood at the front—
Hands clasped.
Shoulders tense.
"Hyung, breathe," Felix whispered.
"I am breathing."
"You look like you’re about to faint," Jisung added.
"I’m not going to faint."
Minho leaned in.
"If you faint, I’m filming it."
"Don’t you dare—"
The music started.
Everything stopped.
You walked in.
And the world went quiet.
No noise.
No people.
No pressure.
Just—
Him.
Waiting.
His eyes softened instantly.
That same look.
The one from the first time he saw you in the dress.
Like nothing else existed.
Like nothing else ever would.
𖹭
The ceremony as beautiful, able to make the coldest person cry.
Extremely romantic, specially when the moment had finally arrived.
"I do," he said softly looking into your eyes.
Without hesitation.
Without doubt.
Like he’d been waiting his whole life to say it.
You smiled through tears.
"I do."
The kiss was soft.
Not rushed.
Not overwhelming.
Just certain.
Like everything that led to that moment had been worth it.
𖹭
After that everything should’ve been calm.
Private.
Quiet.
It wasn’t.
Life always has a funny way to show it.
And it happened on a random night.
Hyunjin was live on Instagram.
Hair messy.
Hoodie on.
Relaxed.
"Hi, stays" he smiled softly at the camera.
Comments flooded instantly.
"Have you eaten?"
"What did you do today?"
"Show us your room!"
He laughed lightly.
"You’re all so nosy."
He started talking about some moments of his year until that night.
Everything normal.
When he decided turn the tablet to his cellphone screen to show some of the moments.
SYNOPSIS
➥ Two men who are carbon copies of each other. If you fall for one, can you make do with the other?
This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only.
※ Hyunjin x Reader (f) (feat. 3RACHA) — Twins AU, Drama, Dark Romance, Shy guy/Bad girl
⛔ — Not suitable for readers who are put off by themes of dark romance and/or sexual deviance. It contains potentially disturbing imagery and deals with various sensitive subject matter that has not been divulged in the warnings to preserve tension and some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.
※ Reader discretion advised — Sex work, discussions around the human psyche, extreme hedonism & related practices (i.e. overindulgence in sex, recreational substance & alcohol use, disregard for 'norms'…), references to traumatic events, strong language, violence, explicit sexual content.
CONTENT · 「47.6k」
· Act I: Overture
· Act II: Kites and Airplanes
· Act III: Unorthodox Sandbox
· Act IV: Slow Dancing As We Die
· Act V: 1+1=0
· Act VI: 1x0=2
pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x reader (y/n)
genre: fluff, comfort, idol au
wc: 553
cw: none, pure love
masterlist | synopsis:
loving hyunjin means being loved loudly, gently, and in all the little moments in between.
a/n:
just a soft thought about hyunjin :( purely self-indulgent and fluffy
lmk if you want more like this or other members 🫶
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──
ᯓ★ Hyunjin would be the type to love you like his life depends on it. He would rather shower you with affection rather than to inhale oxygen because, for him you are his oxygen.
ᯓ★ Hyunjin would get called clingy or over-affectionate when in public but to be real, he doesn't care. He just makes sure you are never getting hurt by other's words.
ᯓ★ Hyunjin would make you DIY flowers every anniversary when you once mentioned how you hate that the flowers would die a few days later. How could he possibly let his girl be sad now?
ᯓ★ Perfectly planned dates every weekend. Every damn week. He has a hectic schedule, sure. But he would never, EVER let your dates be cancelled, hell he'd rather let chan scold him.
ᯓ★ You text him you miss him during one of his lives on instagram. Within the span of two minutes he was.. texting you he'd be there in 10? Boy what about your live??
ᯓ★ He shows his affection in the small things too. Buying you your favorite ice cream every week, fulfilling your midnight cravings, giving small forehead kisses before bed every night, always a good morning text whenever he has to leave early for work.
ᯓ★ Some days when it's just the two of you with a pleasant mood and good weather, you'd not go out like usual. It'd end up with him painting while you read your book, or you would cook while he told you about the nothings.
ᯓ★ He would always wrap up the dance practice or recordings as early as possible just to spend the evening with you. Though he gets scolded by chan for the same, but nonetheless, he loves the intimate quiet moments with you.
ᯓ★ Hyunjin swears he still gets butterflies even in his late twenties whenever you kiss him. You noticed it too, how his ears turn red when you kiss his cheek or pat his head lovingly. Hell, you adore it.
ᯓ★ Hyunjin once came home after a particularly tiring dance practice for the world tour. He messaged you that he was really tired and won’t be able to do anything. Oh what girlfriend would you be if not to treat your beloved boyfriend? You kept a warm bath ready for him, heated up the dinner and kept his plate ready on the table, and it was ungodly 1.43 am. He swore to god he will never feel unloved by you.
ᯓ★ Hyunjin is a big fan of PDA and it is annoying for the members now. For example, when you came to the dance practice studio for the first time to surprise Hyunjin, the members were genuinely shocked at how cuddly and clingy he is with you. You will never forget that day as per your say.
ᯓ★ If you are cooking, he would wrap his arms around you and swing you gently side to side. If you are just sitting on the couch, he would immediately excuse himself on your body. Like, he would lay on you fully, sometimes choking you. He says it’s his love for you, but you find it lethal…literally.
ᯓ★ His love for you was something you cherished. PDA or not, you loved him equally much and made sure to reciprocate it as well.
author’s note:
thank you for reading ♡ soft love always wins in the end
