Synopsis: Working as the family's babysitter, you learn a lot from Hyunjin and Felix's happy marriage, including their sex life. (13,3k words)
Author's note: Sorry for the late delivery. Hope you enjoy this one too!
Unlike any other toddlers, little Aster has a liking for vacuum cleaners. Instead of going to the toy store, he prefers going to the electronic store to look at vacuums, he doesn't play with them but likes hearing their sounds. You believe it's because it offers a similar sound to the white noise machine he has in his room.
"Vacuum!" He adorably shouts, jumping on his little feet while pointing at the vacuum on the display.
"Yes, vacuum!" You nod.
"Wanna play!" He cutely mumbles while tugging his index finger between his two front teeth.
Seeing that it is displayed on the top shelf, there's no way you can put it down yourself and risk knocking the other things on the display, you squat down to be on the same eye level with him.
"It's too heavy," you tell him, gently patting his small head.
You point at the one on the bottom shelf and offer it to him to play, "How about this one?"
He eagerly nods, watching you take the vacuum cleaner for a spin even though it's not turned on. You carefully hand it to him, letting him hold the handle with his small hand, and push it through the aisle of the electronic store.
"Do you like it, Aster?"
He's laughing as he keeps pushing and making vacuuming sounds through his little mouth. His laughter is so infectious that you can't help but laugh as well.
The journey in the electronic store continues to the lawnmowers. You let Aster walk on his own and observe the lawnmowers parked throughout the whole section.
"Car!" He says as he taps at the tire of the red lawnmower.
"It's not a car," you inform, lifting him by the waist and putting him on the lawnmower.
He turns his head at you with a questioning look on his face.
"It's a lawnmower," you tell him.
"Lamoomoowee," he incorrectly pronounces it, riding the lawnmower like a hobbyhorse.
"Lawnmower," you slowly enunciate it for him while steadily holding his back to prevent him from falling.
"Lammowah," he gets it even wrong this time and as if he knows he says it wrong, he breaks into a wide grin.
Oh, this is why you like children, they're pure and innocent, as opposed to adults who are oftentimes complicated and messy. With children, you get to be honest and open, you don't have to be afraid of being judged, and they see you for what you truly are.
"You're blessed with a beautiful boy," a lady says as she gently gives Aster a quick ruffle on his hair.
You feel flattered whenever someone thinks that Aster is your child but if his real parents caught anyone saying that to you, you're sure they'd be offended.
"Oh, thank you!" You mutter with a smile, "But I'm just the babysitter."
"Oh?" The lady gasps in surprise, then gives Aster another ruffle and a gentle pinch on his cheek before leaving you be.
Your phone dings in your jacket pocket and you pull it out to check if it's coming from Aster's dad. Indeed it is and he's almost finished getting his hair done.
"Aster baby, we have to go," You say to him, taking him by the hand and putting him back into the stroller, "Dada is waiting!"
You're told to meet him by the entrance of the supermarket so as you're pushing the stroller, you're craning your neck to find him.
"There's dada!" You exclaim once you spot him.
Aster is giggling as he is strapped into his seat as you push the stroller at full speed and start wriggling his body when he notices his father waving his hand at him.
"Hi, sweet boy," Felix says to his son, unbuckling the straps around his chest and lifting him.
"Are you having fun?" He asks the little one with a boop on his nose.
"Yes," Aster answers with a nod and presses his mouth onto Felix's cheek.
"We just got back from looking at vacuums," you share while holding onto the stroller.
"Must be fun. Dada is jealous," he jokingly says while hoisting Aster higher in his arms.
He then turns to look at you and shows his new hairstyle, it's still blonde but it looks like he trimmed it a little.
"What do you think?" He asks for your opinion while giving his hair a subtle flip.
You lowly chuckle, "You look stunning!"
"Thank you," he says, then turns at Aster to ask for his approval next, "Do you like it, Aster?"
"Yes," he shortly says, it's unsure whether he understands the question or not but it's enough to make Felix smile in response.
This is when you find the resemblance between Aster and his dad, they share the same warm genuine smile with their nose slightly scrunched.
The trip continues with a grocery shopping and Aster gets distracted by the plush toys on the shelf, pointing at the one that looks like the pet dog at home.
"Mandu!" He shouts in excitement.
You grab one and hand it to him, letting him play with it as he sits inside the trolley.
"It indeed looks like Mandu," Felix says as he puts a loaf of bread into the trolley.
"What a lovely couple!" An elderly says as she walks past the three of you.
Felix and you automatically exchange a look and then burst into laughter at the same time.
This is not the first time both of you have heard such a thing. Whenever the two of you are together, especially with Aster around, it seems to them that the two of you are married and Aster is your love child.
First of all, you wouldn't mind having Felix as a husband, he's beautiful and kind, he's a successful food blogger who has written dozens of cookbooks, and ultimately, a good dad to Aster.
Unfortunately, Felix is very well taken and is happily married to his husband, Hwang Hyunjin.
-
"Bubba!"
That's a nickname Aster likes to call you, you pick up his toy from under the sofa in case it's what he tries to say to you.
"Yes, sweet Aster?"
"Water, please?" He sweetly asks while rubbing his chest with his hand, a sign language that means 'please'.
"I'll get it for you," Felix says from the kitchen even though he's busy preparing dinner.
You stay with Aster, keeping him company as he's playing with his toys in front of the TV.
Felix comes with Aster's water bottle and offers it to his son himself, he watches as he sucks water through the straw.
"My sweet boy is thirsty, huh?"
Aster swallows his drinks and gasps in exaggeration, "Thank you, dada!!" He cutely mutters.
"You're very welcome, angel," he says back and kisses the top of his head.
Felix may seem tough with his lean, toned body and his deep voice but that's just what he appears to be. As opposed to tough exteriors, he has a very tender soul and is not afraid to show it.
"Do you mind turning on the news?" He politely asks.
"Yep, sure," you say, flicking the TV channels to the one you know he wanted to see.
Felix's husband, Hyunjin, works as a news anchor in a TV station and he usually works either the noon or the night news but at times, he does one in between those times.
"I texted him, telling him to wink if he wants Martinis served when he comes home," Felix says as he's chuckling while his hand constantly playing with Aster's hair.
"Oh? What?" You gasp and you must admit that an interesting way to flirt with one another, "You think he'll do it?"
Felix shrugs but he knows what he's doing because who doesn't like having drinks served when you come home after a long day of work? Not you, obviously and it's sad that no one does that for you.
A few minutes later, the breaking news intro flashes through the screen and you guess this must be it. Hyunjin's long and angular face fills the screen, his dark hair slicked back and he wears a tie in a color that compliments his skin tone well.
"Look, Aster! That's Daddy!" You say as you shake his hand in excitement.
Aster looks up from his toy and sees his dad's face on the screen, his face lights up like a Christmas tree once he sees him.
"Daddy!" He shouts.
"That's Daddy," Felix says, planting another kiss on Aster's head.
Mandu barks noticing the familiar face on TV and starts standing on his hind legs as if he's trying to reach Hyunjin through the screen.
"The meeting of the 49th Asia Audit Committee was held on 11 March at the Asia Hall to discuss matters related to audit, risk, and governance of the secretariat," Hyunjin eloquently reads the news then there it is, the wink. It's so subtle that it may seem like he was trying to blink but it's a wink.
Felix cracks a laugh, probably not expecting that he would actually do it on national broadcast and in the middle of him reading the news.
"Well, guess we'll be having Martini tonight," he says as he gets up from the carpeted floor, "You should stay for dinner because you don't want to miss it."
You feel bad for always turning down his offer and you reckon it's time to accept the invitation for dinner. Also because Martini sounds like a nice treat.
"Well, since I'm driving, I'll only have one Martini," you remind him.
"Wise choice!" He comments.
To be honest, it's always a treat to have dinner at this household. Despite his specialty in baking, Felix is a great cook and you'd love to have dinner here every day if you could but you don't want to be greedy and exploit their kindness. Boundaries exist for a reason and you respect those boundaries because at the end of the day, they're your employers and you are the employee.
Hearing the familiar sound of his dad's car pulling up the driveway, Aster runs to the door with Mandu trailing behind him, he's squealing with saliva dribbling down one corner of his mouth.
You abruptly stop setting the table to follow him and are ready to help if he accidentally trips or falls, you stop him from going further and make him wait in the foyer.
"Daddy will be here soon," you assure him, containing his excitement with one arm around his waist.
A moment later, the door opens and Hyunjin steps inside, he's still dressed in his work attire sans the suit jacket, he has his white shirt loosened around the neck and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Aster jumps as he squeals and you can't contain him anymore, you let him run at his dad. Hyunjin is quick enough to get on his knees and catches him in his arms.
"Is this Aster or monster Aster?" He likes to baby talk to the little one while pressing ticklish kisses onto his neck.
"This is monster Aster!" He playfully tickles Aster's stomach, making him squirm and giggle, more drool dribbling down his mouth.
"Give Daddy a kiss!" He demands, offering his cheek at him.
Aster opens his mouth wide and instead of kissing, it looks like he's going to take a bite out of Hyunjin's cheek.
"Ouch! That hurts!" He exclaims, rubbing his cheek which is wet with Aster's drool.
You gasp when you see the faint teeth mark on Hyunjin's cheek, "Oh, my God! You have the—" you point at his cheek.
"This is not the first time," Hyunjin calmly says to you while walking further into the house, he drops his briefcase on the sofa and comes up to his husband who's busy making sure the spaghetti sauce is flavorful.
Hyunjin places a hand on the small of Felix's back and leans in for a long, lingering kiss on the lips. Felix drops everything he's doing to properly welcome him home with a hu and not enough with one kiss, Felix pecks his lips and smiles when he pulls away.
"Aster bit me," Hyunjin immediately tells on his own son like a child, pointing at the teeth mark on his cheek.
Felix hurriedly checks it and gently rubs it with his thumb, "Aster, you bit daddy?"
"Monster Aster!" He mumbles in response to Felix.
"Oh? Monster Aster who bit daddy?"
"Uh-huh," he repeatedly nods.
"Monster Dada is coming to bite you then," Felix jokingly says.
Aster breaks into laughter and then hides in Hyunjin's neck as Felix attacks him with kisses on his stomach. It's just the three of them in their loving bubble.
"What are we having for dinner?" Hyunjin asks with his hand placing gentle rubs on Felix's back.
"Spaghetti with meatballs, Aster's favorite," He answers while stirring sauce in the pan.
"Smell good," Hyunjin comments, and then they exchange a look that is filled with so much love.
The whole interaction makes you feel like you're watching a movie scene that describes what a happy, loving family looks like. Your heart bursts thinking if the future holds something like this for you too.
"Can you stay with Bubba, darling?" Hyunjin says to his son, coming up to you to hand him over.
"Daddy will get back soon, okay?" He convinces him with a kiss on the cheek before leaving to go upstairs.
"And you, young gentleman, time to wash those dirty hands," you tell him.
Dinner is served on the table and just from the look of it, you can tell Felix's cooking is going to taste so good like always. Once in a while, you check Aster if he's eating his dinner well and from the way his mouth is slobbering with spaghetti sauce, you can tell he is.
"Isn't it like spring break for you?" Hyunjin suddenly asks.
You swallow your food before answering, "Yes."
"And you don't have any plans for spring break?"
"I do. The plan is playing with your 18-month-old son," you playfully answer while twirling pasta with your fork.
Hyunjin doesn't ask more about it, you guess he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable with those kinds of questions.
"She doesn't like going out much," Felix says then flashes a knowing smile at you, "Just like you."
Hyunjin pouts at him in response but Felix finds it cute that he grabs his hand on the table and squeezes it.
"Is that true?" Hyunjin asks for confirmation from you.
"Yeah. I just want to finish college as soon as possible and I can do all those things later," you explain.
You understand that this way of thinking is unlike most people but you like to keep your focus on one thing and that is finishing your education.
You didn't even plan to keep working as their babysitter, you needed the extra money to replace your crappy car but as time goes on, you learned that they're a nice family and Aster is such a sweetheart so you decide to continue working for them until you graduate.
"Look at me, baby!" You say as you wipe Aster's mouth with a wet wipe.
He keeps wanting to nestle his head in your neck but you can't let him do that with all the spaghetti sauce all over his mouth and cheeks.
"You're getting sleepy, mmh?" you sweetly mutter as you reach to clean his cheek but he keeps dodging away.
It's not even his bedtime yet and Aster usually plays for a bit after dinner, but it seems like he can barely keep his eyes open anymore.
Hyunjin checks on you and notices that Aster is getting drowsy, "I'll get him to bed," he softly mutters to you.
You carefully hand Aster to him and he immediately nuzzles his head into the crook of his neck, then rest his eyes closed.
Since Hyunjin is taking your task away, you decide to help Felix clean up in the kitchen, scraping the leftovers off the plate to load them into the dishwasher next.
"You don't have to do that," Felix says as he's busy gathering the ingredients for the Martini.
"But I already did," you say with a grin and close the dishwasher, "Can I help you with anything?"
He looks over his shoulder at you, "Yeah, can you take the cocktail glasses out of the fridge?"
"Got you," you open the fridge and have no problem finding the three chilled dainty cocktail glasses perched on the the middle shelf of the fridge.
Felix meticulously measures the liquor, one part dry vermouth, and 6 parts gin before pouring them into the mixing glass, then gives it a good shake.
Once he deems it's mixed well, he carefully pours them into the glasses and instead of olives, he uses the lemon peel as garnish.
You're impressed with his drink-mixing skill but more impressed with how elegant he looks doing all that stuff.
"I want to be you when I grow up," you say in awe.
That earns a nice chuckle out of him as he wipes the kitchen island with a napkin, "You will," he playfully says.
"Now, where's my hard-earned Martini?" Hyunjin says as he returns from putting Aster to sleep and comes back carrying Mandu in one arm.
Felix lifts the drink and shows it to him, "It's ready!"
After having a toast, you can't bring yourself to drink it because it looks so pretty but not drinking it would be rude to the one who made it. You take a small sip and try to reserve it as long as possible.
It's so refreshing and nice, you can taste a hint of citrus from the lemon. You believe it's the first time you have a drink that is skillfully made by some.
"This is so good," you genuinely compliment and can't stop yourself from getting another sip at it.
"Compliment to the chef!" Hyunjin says with a seductive smile and pulls Felix closer to his side, resting his arm around his waist.
There's the look of love again and you can tell what's coming after that, yep, Hyunjin kisses Felix on the lips with his smile lingers on his face.
Flustered, Felix hides his face in his neck exactly like Aster did earlier.
"You always smell good, babe," Felix whispers and he probably thinks that you don't see him planting kisses onto Hyunjin's neck.
Hyunjin tilts Felix's head to land a sweet kiss on his lips and they smile at each other after, "I like it whenever you do that," he mutters, pulling him even closer to his side.
All of a sudden, you feel like third wheeling, you abort your plan to savor every sip of your Martini and gulp it at once.
"It's getting late. I'd better go," you say, putting the glass down on the kitchen island.
Not waiting for their response, you gather your things and shove them into your bag. You're walking back to them to say bye.
"Be careful on the way home," Felix says as he gives you a quick hug.
You hoist the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, "I will. Goodnight!"
"I'll send you off," Hyunjin offers, walking you out of the door, and as you take the car keys out of your bag, he snatches it.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" He asks.
"It's only one drink," you assure him.
"Sobriety test. Go!" He says, refusing to make a compromise.
You subtly roll your eyes at him and walk in a straight line to prove that you're not under the influence and sober enough to drive.
"See?" You tell him as you turn around to face him.
"Now, do a cartwheel!" He orders, leaning his side against the doorway.
"Seriously?" You groan.
Hyunjin bursts out laughing, "No. I'm joking."
He approaches you to hand your car keys back and puts them right in your hand, "Here. Drive safely."
"I will."
"Thank you for today," he says as he stands in the doorway.
You flash him a smile before getting into your car, "Goodnight, Mr. Hwang!" You poke fun, knowing how much he hates being called by his surname.
"It's Hyunjin," he insists while gritting his teeth.
You have the fun now and chuckle, "Goodnight, it's Hyunjin!" You shout as you pull the car out of the driveway.
That's pretty much how your day went in the Hwang-Lee household. You've been working for them for eight months and there's not a day where you don't feel jealous of their romantic and harmonious marriage life.
-
They don't make you babysit on the weekends but there's always an exception.
Tonight is a date night for Felix and Hyunjin, and you come a little after seven even though they'll leave at 8. You knock on the door and let yourself in, they probably know you'll be coming anyway.
"Bubba is here!" Felix says, knowing that it's you who came through the door.
Aster appears from behind the wall and grins when he looks at you, he's trudging his way to you and almost stumbles on his own little feet.
"It's Astalalala," you exclaim, calling him by the nickname you give him. You squat down to hug him and catch a whiff of that nice baby scent that clings to him.
"How are you, sweet Aster?" You ask.
"Good," he shortly answers.
"And where's my kiss?" You ask, tapping your cheek to show him where to kiss.
He rushes to kiss you on the cheek and instead of his lips, his nose bumps your cheek first.
"Thank you, Astalala," you sweetly say with a smile.
You carry him up as you walk inside and find Felix in the kitchen as you expected, he is already dressed in a dark silk shirt with a tie-neck collar and is making sandwiches.
"Hey, I made you a cold-cut sandwich," He says, shoving a piece of cheese into his mouth.
"Oh, no. I had dinner," you meekly say, feeling bad for refusing.
"Well, you can have it later," he simply resolves.
"With pleasure," you respond because it looks so good and you'll definitely eat it as soon as you get hungry.
"Aster had his dinner already," He informs you as he puts back everything into the fridge.
He suddenly lands a slap on his forehead as if he's just remembered something, "Oh, I forgot to change his pillow covers."
"Don't worry, I'll do it," you assure him.
He awkwardly stands in front of you and asks, "Is it too much?"
"Not at all. You look stunning," you convince him, turning your head at Aster to seek his approval, "Right, Aster?"
"Yesss," he hisses through his bunny teeth.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Felix says and presses a kiss on his round cheek.
As you take Aster to the living room to watch his favorite cartoon, Hyunjin appears from the top of the stairs and is dressed in a suit, he skips the tie tonight and keeps the top two buttons open.
"Are you ready to leave?" He asks his husband who's still busy in the kitchen.
Felix glances up to see Hyunjin descending the stairs, "Yeah. I just need to—"
"Oh, my God. Stop cleaning up," you scold him since he can't seem to relax without making sure his kitchen is clean and tidy.
Felix drops the cloth and washes his hands under the sink, "Yes, I'm ready," he replies to his husband.
Hyunjin and Felix take turns kissing Aster before leaving the house, you send them on their way out while carrying their son in your arms.
"Bye, baby," Felix throws an air kiss at Aster.
"Bye, bye, dada!" You make him say them to his dad and he follows suit, waving his small hand at him as he says it.
"Have a great night!" You shout at them before they get into the car.
There's not much left to do but play with Aster in the living room and at the first sign of him getting drowsy, you hurriedly run him a bath and prepare him for bed.
As he picks the storybook he wants you to read, you change his pillow covers per Felix's instruction, then you sit on the small sofa and have Aster sit on your lap to read the storybook together, he mostly looks at the pictures as you read it to him.
It doesn't take long until he drifts into sleep with his head resting on your chest, you cuddle him until he's deep in his slumber before putting him in his crib.
"Night, sweet Aster," you whisper and leave the door to his bedroom slightly ajar.
As a reward, you eat the sandwich Felix made and it's worth every bite of it, having it with a can of soda from the fridge. Finished with your second dinner, you take a tour around the house, looking at the photos hung on the walls.
One is of Aster when he was a baby along with his tiny footprints and then there's a picture of the three of them together on Aster's first birthday. On the biggest frame is Hyunjin and Felix's wedding photo, they're both wearing white suits but Hyunjin's is embroidered with a flower pattern while Felix has this lace tail on the back of his suit jacket. You've never seen a more beautiful couple than them and you believe they're what people call a match made in heaven.
Having nothing else to do, you curl up on the sofa and read a book you brought with you. The next thing you know, you wake up startled hearing someone entering the passcode to the house.
You scramble to get up and pick up the book falling off your lap, you check the time on your phone, it's a little after eleven so it must be them coming back from their date.
It's true, you can hear their laughs as they enter the house and their low chatter, you also catch them smooching through the reflection on the TV screen. You act like you're not seeing it and cover your face with the book, pretending to read.
When you hear their footsteps coming into the room, you slowly put down your book and smile, "Oh, you guys are back!"
"Oh, hey," Felix says, foolishly grinning with his cheeks flushed, looking like he's slightly drunk.
Hyunjin looks not that different, his cheeks red and he's all smiles when he places his hand on Felix's waist.
"I'll go check on Aster," he says with a soft smile.
You wait until Hyunjin leaves to ask something, "Hey, do you mind if I'm staying over? I'm so sleepy, I don't think I'll able to drive home—"
"Of course!" Felix hastily answers, then sits on the sofa next to you, "You know I don't feel good letting you drive at night."
"Oh, thank you," you sincerely say.
"Hey, since you're staying, why don't we have a glass of wine?"
It's a nice offer and you would love to accept it but you don't want to disturb their date night, it's better if you get yourself out of the scene as to not ruin it for them.
"I'd love to but I'm... I'm tired," you gently refuse with an apologetic smile.
He places his hand on your hand and squeezes it, "That's okay. You'd better rest then."
You smile at him and bring your book with you, "Goodnight."
"Night!" He says back.
Right before you enter the guest room, you see Hyunjin surprises Felix with a back hug and then he whispers something into his ear that makes him laugh, filling the space with his deep laughter.
Now you know that they're not drunk, they're just in love.
-
Sunday morning at the Hwang-Lee household consists of a hungry toddler and a cook who doubts his pancake souffle is fluffy enough. Then you enter the scene as a girl in search of her first intake of caffeine.
"Morning," you cheerily greet everyone, softly poking Aster's cheek as he chews on his mini pancakes.
"Morning!" Felix says back without looking up from the pan, "Coffee?"
"I'll get it myself," you say, getting yourself a cup from the cabinet and carefully pouring some hot coffee from the pot.
"How's your sleep?" He asks, serving you a delicious-looking pancake souffle, it jiggles as he pushes the plate across the kitchen island.
"I slept so well, thank you," you answer with a sleepy smile and start with a small sip of coffee, you can feel it rejuvenate you from the inside.
Felix anxiously watches as you eat the pancake, "Do you think it's fluffy enough?"
You take a moment to chew and swallow before answering, "I think it's perfect," you honestly answer, it tastes even better than the ones made in the pastry shop.
"More apple, please!" Aster cutely asks.
Felix rushes to slice the peeled apple for him and places them on his plate, "More apple for Aster," he cutely says, then kisses his head.
"Thank you, dada," Aster mumbles with his mouth full of food.
He then pulls the drawer open and takes something out, "Since you're here..."
He slides an envelope toward you and you reckon it's your pay, he insists on paying weekly because he knows you may need it for gas. One look at it and you know they put extra bills in there. They have always been so generous with the pay.
"Thank you," you say, accepting it with gratitude.
"Do you mind running some errands for me tomorrow?"
"No. I don't mind at all," you answer.
Felix comes up with a list of things to buy along with his credit card, handing it to you, "You can come late tomorrow."
"Consider it done," you assure him, putting the list and the credit card into the envelope.
"The last one is for you," he says, putting a gift card in front of you, "So you don't have any excuses to not spoil yourself."
As expected, he knows you so well. You're reluctant to spend money on such things when it can be used for more important things but Felix oftentimes reminds you that it's okay to spoil yourself once in a while.
You crack a laugh and put the gift card into the envelope, "I will. Thank you," you say.
Not only generous, they always come with extra something like this. Just last week, he bought you a new laptop bag and scented candles.
The sound of Mandu's barks only means that Hyunjin is back from walking him. He comes in panting and brushing his dark hair to the back, exposing a layer of sweat coating his forehead.
"Mandu almost fought someone's dog," Hyunjin shares as he's getting himself a glass of water to quench his thirst. You find it cute that he likes to rant to his husband like a little kid.
"It's a Rottweiler and it's like this big," Hyunjin continues, describing how big the dog Mandu almost picked a fight with. He then goes to sit on the stool next to his son and watches his ear.
"What do you have here, baby?" Hyunjin asks the little one with a gentle ruffle on his hair.
"Apple," he shortly answers, offering a slice to him.
Hyunjin takes it into his mouth even though it's slobbering with yogurt, "yum..." he hums in delight.
Felix joins in with them, sitting next to him, and intently watches as Hyunjin digs into the pancake souffle.
"I don't think it's fluffy enough," Felix sighs, taking his baking very seriously.
Hyunjin takes a second to thoroughly taste it and says, "No, it's perfect," he disagrees with him.
He then looks at you to convince him more, "It's perfect. Right?"
"I told him the exact same thing earlier," you respond, shoving a spoonful of it into your mouth.
"It is?" Felix doubtfully asks as he also digs into the pancake and takes a bite.
"It's perfect," Hyunjin reassures him with a peck on his lips.
When he pulls away from the kiss, he softly mutters, "You're perfect."
This is too early for this but you have accepted the fact that there'll be not a day where it doesn't feel like you're third wheeling when you're around them. You look away and quietly sip your cup of coffee.
"Hey, we're going to the aquarium today. Are you coming?" Hyunjin asks.
You look around to check if Hyunjin is really asking you, "oh that sounds fun but I have to drive my mom to her book club meeting," you explain.
They had a date night and now they're having a family day, and it's endearing that they invite you along but you can only say yes once in a while.
You gently pinch Aster's round cheek and say, "Maybe next time.
-
The next day, you come to their house with both hands carrying bags of groceries. Notices that you're struggling to carry them yourself, Felix comes to your aid, taking a few bags out of your hands.
"Sorry I made you do all this," Felix says as he puts the bags on the kitchen counter with loud thudding sounds.
"No, it's okay. It's not a big deal," you assure him, putting the last few bags onto the counter.
Since everything is all accounted for, you take out all the receipts along with his credit card and give them back to him.
"I hope I didn't miss anything," you say.
Felix doesn't even glance at the receipts, he puts them inside the drawer and slips the credit card back into his wallet.
"I guess Aster is napping?" You ask, sitting on the stool with a glass of water.
"Yes, he just went to nap," he answers, "Lunch?"
"I had lunch."
"I just baked some Madeleine. Do you want some?" He offers.
"With tea?" You ask with your eyebrow raised.
He brightly grins as if you read his mind, "Of course!"
After putting away a box of party supplies in the pantry, you join Felix on the back porch for some tea and Madeleine he baked. The sunny weather makes a perfect ambiance for tea time.
You find Felix scribbling something in his notebook, the one he uses to write down recipes or ideas for his next cooking videos. You grab a Madeleine once you sit on the chair next to him.
"So, I assume you'll film a cooking video soon?"
After having Aster, Felix decides to be a stay-at-home dad and film cooking videos for his food blog, he's still has a great following and plans on writing a cookbook.
"Yes, and it's not going to be an easy one," He says, hinting at something with his scrunched nose.
"Does it involve your 19-month-old son?" You guess, raising your eyebrow at him.
One of Felix's most popular cooking videos is one with Aster in it, you guess people like seeing them together even though it could get messy at some point.
"It wouldn't be the first time," you say since you had the experience of helping them film the previous one and it was messy.
"Will you help me?" Felix asks with hopeful eyes.
"Absolutely!"
It's not even about the money anymore. Helping them comes as a second nature to you. In fact, they feel like a family to you that there's nothing that you wouldn't do for them.
-
Aster can indeed be a handful but not the kind that you can't manage. He was only 13 months old when the previous video was filmed and he's older now, hopefully, he's better at understanding what and how things work.
Once he wakes up from his nap, you give him snacks, some fruits, and cheese slices while Felix is preparing ingredients in the kitchen and setting up the cameras.
Now that he's refreshed from the nap and full from the snacks, Aster gets in the right mood to film with Felix. He makes him stand on the chair next to him to start filming.
Your job is simple, make sure that the cameras are recording well and filming at the right angles, the rest will be edited by Felix.
"Today, Aster and I are making banana bread," Felix says to the camera.
It never ceases to amaze you how that deep voice belongs to him.
"What are we making, Aster?" He asks his little one.
"Banana bread!" He eloquently answers.
"That's right," Felix cheerful responds and briefly kisses his head.
Felix starts peeling the banana and handing it to Aster, telling him to break them into pieces. Aster follows the instructions well but instead of dumping them into the mixing bowl, he eats it.
"You just had your snack a while ago," Felix says while laughing and letting him have a piece for now.
He then hands him the next banana and watches him breaking it off again. As he's about to put it in his mouth, he looks at him and says, "Aster, into the bowl!"
Aster gives in and dumps the banana into the bowl. However, on the third banana, he caves in and thinks of eating it again. Felix quietly watches him, letting him decide whether he would follow the urge or be able to resist it.
Aster looks at Felix and grins, catching him off guard, he shoves the banana into his small mouth. You hold the urge to laugh out loud watching the whole thing behind the camera.
"Bubba, I think we need more bananas," Felix mutters at you.
You hurriedly pick a couple of bananas from the fruit bowl and hand it to him, no need to worry about getting filmed, Felix will edit you out later.
After smashing the bananas in the bowl, Felix shows Aster how to crack an egg and dumps it into the bowl. He fails on the first try, completely shatters the egg and it drops onto the table.
"We'll do it together, okay?" Felix patiently teaches him to properly crack the egg on the edge of the bowl and successfully puts it into the bowl this time.
"You know what it is, Aster?" He lifts a bowl of flour at him.
Aster looks at you to find the answer, you inaudibly mutter the answer to him.
"Foufou," he hesitantly mumbles his answer.
"Yes, flour," Felix exclaims, letting him dump the whole thing into the mixing bowl.
Aster accidentally pours it off the bowl and some of it spills onto the table, "Oh, no..." he sadly mutters.
"That's okay," Felix assures him, adding extra flour from the bag.
"Now, sugar," he says, making Aster do it again.
He shakes his head, probably afraid would spill it again, "No. Dada do it," he says.
"Dada knows Aster can do it," he encourages but you can tell that he tries not to intervene as Aster lifts the bowl of sugar.
Aster manages to put it in perfectly and Felix gasps in pride, "See? Dada knows you can do it!"
Aster grins in response to his dad's praise and watches as Felix mixes the whole thing with a whisk. He stops to switch turns with his son, letting him mix it as he pleases.
"There you go," Felix sweetly mutters.
It indeed gets very messy at the end of the filming but it's nothing compares to how heartwarming it is watching them baking together. Felix is so patient and gentle the whole time and Aster is smart for his age, precocious even.
As everyone waits for the banana bread out of the oven, you take Aster to the back porch and let Mandu out to play in the backyard. Together, you're watching the sunset and a flock of birds flying in between the burst of gold and orange in the sky.
"Do you see that, Aster?"
"Birdies!" Aster exclaims, tilting his head and looking mesmerized by what he's seeing.
"Yes. Birdies flying," you say.
Aster raises his hand in the air and waves it at the birds, "Bye, bye birdies!"
"Bye, bye birdies," you follow suit, also waving your hand high.
When you come back inside, you are greeted by the delicious smell of freshly baked banana bread. Despite the messy process, it turns out really well.
Felix takes a few pictures for the blog and slices it to have a taste at it, he hands you a slice on a plate. As for Aster, he breaks a piece, blowing on it before feeding it to him.
"Does it taste good?"
"Good," he answers even though he's still chewing.
Considering that it was made by a toddler, it tastes alright and probably tastes better than the one baked by an amateur at baking like you.
"Good job, Aster," you raise your hand at him for a high-five.
In the middle of dinner, Aster gets sleepy and you immediately take him upstairs. You don't even need to read him a storybook or rocking him in your arms, he must be tired that he's falling asleep while having his bottle of milk.
You come back downstairs and find Felix has done cleaning up in the kitchen.
"Hey, will you stay for a round of video games?" Felix asks, turning around from the counter as you arrive at the base of the stairs.
Since Hyunjin will be coming home late to do late-night news, you decide to stay a little longer with Felix even though you have zero ideas on how to play video games. He patiently guides you through it while also controlling his console in his hands.
In the third round, you finally get the hang of it but not good enough to beat Felix at it. You eventually give up and decide to watch him play on the side.
Felix takes a break from playing and grabs two cans of beer from the fridge, drinking it on the sofa together.
"Hey, can I ask you some personal questions?" He asks out of the blue.
Yes, you're working for him but you are comfortable enough with him to talk about personal things. You nod in answer, "Yes, sure."
Felix sips his beer first before coming up with the personal question he wanted to ask, "Are you seeing anyone?"
"No," you answer with a light head shake.
"May I know why?"
"I'm not looking for relationships at the moment," you shortly answer.
Finishing your college is your top priority now and as for everything else, you can always do it later once you graduate.
"Is it because you don't want to or...?"
"I think I've said it before that I'm focusing on graduating college first," you answer.
"But are you open to it?"
"I'm always open to it but not for now," you firmly answer.
"How about casual ones?"
"You mean... casual dating?"
"Why? You've done it, right? Sex?"
You shyly chuckle because you don't talk about such things with anyone, not even with your mom.
"Don't get shy with me. We're both grown up and Aster is asleep," he says with a soft laugh.
"Well, I've done it but... I don't know," you decide to leave it at that, deciding not to tell him in detail.
"Was it good? Bad? Average?"
"I don't have that many experiences to know for certain if it was good or bad," you honestly share and it surprises you that you don't find it awkward to tell him that. Maybe it's because you know he won't be judgmental about it.
Felix nods at your answer and he seems to need a moment to process it, "Are you open to experiment?"
"You make it sound like it's a chem class," you playfully respond to his question.
"Experimenting is what led me to meet Aster's dad," Felix remarks with a quick eyebrow raise.
You crack a laugh and finish your can of beer, "I don't know. I'm not that confident with myself."
"Nonsense!" He strongly disagrees.
"You're undeniably gorgeous," he genuinely compliments as he brushes your hair to the side, "and that says something coming from me."
You laugh again and put down your empty can on the table, "well, thank you!"
Felix shifts on his seat and turns his body to face you, "do you trust me?"
"I do," you answer without a beat and that tells him how much you trust him.
"Do you trust me enough to experiment with me?"
"With you?" You ask in confirmation.
"Yes."
"I don't know..." you doubtfully answer, "I don't want things to be awkward between us."
"It won't. Trust me," he convinces you.
There's nothing to lose here and it's just an experiment, not a real thing. It's more relieving to know that he initiates the idea and you can trust him on that.
"Who knows you have a thing for a dad of one?" He jokingly says.
"Okay," you say with a nervous laugh.
"Okay," he says, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently massaging it, "Now, relax."
Felix glides his hand up to the nape of your neck and continues massaging you there, his fingers softly scratching the back of your hair. It works to help you relax, your shoulders are no longer tense and your heart beats steadily.
"Now close your eyes," he speaks so low it's almost like a whisper.
You obey him without question and close your eyes, nothing happens until a moment later, you feel his lips against yours, soft meets soft, and together locked in a slow, sensuous kiss.
Felix skillfully pries your mouth open with his tongue and you willingly open it for him, letting him taste you more.
With the hand that stays on the nape of your neck, he can angle your head as he pleases, and that way he can deepen the kiss.
The quiet in the room only adds to the tension and you hold your breath, not wanting to change a thing about this moment, you want to keep it as long as you can and only let go when you start to feel faint from lack of oxygen in your lungs.
"And that's what a good kiss should be," he mutters.
Instead of feeling awkward, you feel funny and break into laughter, "Maybe I do have a thing for a dad of one," you joke back.
Hyunjin walks in on the two of you laughing on the sofa together and both of you immediately quiet down which gives the impression that he interrupted something.
"What's going on?" He asks, taking his suit jacket off and folding it neatly in his arm.
"Nothing," you shortly answer.
"I taught her how to kiss," Felix blurts out.
"Oh," Hyunjin says, but he doesn't seem as surprised as you think he would be, "Are you sure you taught her well?"
Hyunjin's unexpected reaction to it makes you wonder if he knows that it's true and he doesn't mind any of it. Or maybe you should feel relieved that he doesn't mind that his husband kissed the babysitter.
"Hey, why don't you stay over?" Felix suggests out of the blue.
The plan is to leave once Hyunjin is already home, you grab your phone and get up from the sofa, "Oh, no, I'll just—"
"You're staying over and I'm getting us drinks," Felix insists, pushing you to sit back down on the sofa.
"I'll help," you offer, getting the glasses from the cabinet while Felix is getting the liquor.
You return to the living room while clutching the glasses close to your chest, finding Hyunjin grabbing the knot of his tie and loosening it around the collar before pulling it hard, seamlessly taking it off at once.
"You don't know how to kiss, huh?" He says with a smirk, undoing the cuffs of his shirt before rolling the sleeves up to his elbows.
"I know how to kiss," you say with a dramatic eye roll.
Felix places a sealed bottle of liquor and a bowl of ice on the table along with a sealed bottle of liquor, "I showed her how a good kiss should be," he says.
Hyunjin sits on the sofa and grabs the bottle of liquor to uncap it, "Show it to me then."
You snort thinking that he's joking and Felix shifts the attention to the drinks, "Let's have some drinks first!"
Felix drops an ice cube into each glass while Hyunjin carefully pours the liquor to fill all three glasses without spilling a drop.
However, on the third round of drinks, Felix holds his hand out at you, "Come on!"
You glance up and look at him in confusion, "Huh?"
"Time to put it to practice," he says, holding his hand farther at you.
You awkwardly place your hand in his and let him help you get up from the sofa, he pulls you so hard that you bump into him.
Felix is quick enough to catch you with his arm around your waist, "do you trust me?"
"To do what?"
He dramatically rolls his eyes at you and asks you again, "Do you trust me?"
In a way that he has no intention to harm you mentally or physically and you feel safe enough to do almost anything then the answer is yes.
"Yes," you reply.
Felix nods as he takes your answer, he holds you close and puts his hand on your jaw, "Just follow my lead, okay?"
You don't know what he's going to do but you nod anyway, "Okay."
He leans in and kisses you, a little harder than the previous one. With the hand steadily holding your jaw, he can easily part your mouth open by pulling your chin down and that way, he can deepen the kiss.
One thing that you have to admit is that Felix is a good kisser, his kiss contains all sorts of things, it's hot and wet, gentle yet intense at times.
He has thing thing that he does with his tongue, he likes to twirl it around yours before tugging it between his teeth. The moment he lets go, you're running out of breath.
"Good, right?" Felix asks.
You innocently nod, "Yeah."
"Now, you do it to me," he says, asking you to practice it on him.
You take another moment to take a breath before leaning in and kissing him, doing exactly what he did to you earlier. It might not be perfect but you're trying your best to impress him.
As you're busy kissing him, Felix takes your hands and places them on him, one on his shoulder and the other on the back of his neck. He then puts his arms around you and pulls you closer until there's no inches of space left between your bodies.
Feeling left out, Hyunjin gets up from his seat and stands behind you. You're not aware of his presence until you feel his hot breath against your ear.
"Guys, let me in on the fun," he mutters, planting his mouth on your neck.
What in the world is this? This should only exist in your wild fantasies. You have to actively tell your brain that it's real and it's happening right now.
Felix breaks the kiss only for Hyunjin to take his turn, turning you the other way and pressing a ķiss on you. His lips are softer than you imagined, kissing him feels like you're kissing the clouds.
Felix's hands are making their way to the front of your blouse, undoing the buttons, and then taking it off you, exposing your upper half body to the cool night air.
As if Hyunjin kissing you isn't enough, Felix puts your hair to the side so he can place searing kisses on the nape of your neck and shoulders. He swiftly snaps your bra open with one hand then pulls the straps of your bra down your shoulders.
Aware that your breasts are freed from their confines, Hyunjin glides his mouth down to your neck while Felix is cupping them in his hands, fingers lightly rubbing on the blossoming buds.
"Oh, they're perfect..." Hyunjin sighs in awe, licking his already wet lips.
He slightly bends down to be able to put his mouth on your breast with Felix holding it up for him, you gulp air as you watch him using his tongue to play with your nipple.
A moan escapes your mouth as Felix pushes your breasts to the middle which allows Hyunjin to take them both in his greedy mouth at once.
After a while, Hyunjin helps himself by holding them up himself. Felix lets go of you to take off his sweater, he then takes your arm to drape it around his neck.
"You're so soft, bub," he whispers into your ear.
You can feel his warm skin against your back and the outline of his abs as your hand aimlessly groping around his body.
Hyunjin detaches his mouth off your breast and he reaches past your shoulder to kiss Felix, making you caught in between them.
This is the first time you don't mind third-wheeling them, you look at how their lips are locked in a passionate kiss and feel jealous of it.
"Come here, babe," Hyunjin says, pulling you in and making you a part of that kiss.
You get to the point that you can't tell whose lips are you kissing, it's one, endless kiss, soft on soft on soft.
Felix manages to take Hyunjin's shirt off and gets it out of the way, it's at a time like this that you feel the need to step out to understand the situation you're in.
They're different but beautiful at the same time, one offers different charms than the other but they're as attractive in your eyes. Your eyes are having a feast as you look at their sculpted bodies like looking at two Greek gods and it indeed feels a little unreal.
"Let's spice things up," Felix comes up with a wild idea and it involves pushing Hyunjin onto the sofa.
Unsure of what to do, you follow Felix's lead, sitting on the carpeted floor as he parts his legs open and Felix starts to unzip his fly open. He doesn't waste time pulling his erection of out its confine and lets it spring free.
They're maintaining eye contact as Felix pumps his length in his hand and then he turns to you, taking your hand and wrapping it around Hyunjin's cock.
Hyunjin's cock is all about the length but that doesn't mean the girth isn't impressive, the pink tip is as luscious as his full lips, making you want to have a lick at it.
As if he reads through your head, Felix asks, "Want to try and take it in your mouth?"
Not really wanting the whole thing in your mouth, mostly because you doubt you can take it well but since he offered, you nod in answer.
"Want me to show it how?" He offers again.
And you nod again.
Felix licks his lips before starting, slightly tilting his head down and then licking the tip until it's wet. He takes a couple of inches into his mouth, adjusting himself to the size to finally take more of Hyunjin's length, and the next thing you know, he takes all of him in his mouth.
You don't know how he does that with his small mouth and without gagging, you keep gulping your air as you're watching him.
On the other hand, Hyunjin softly scratches Felix's head and lowly mutters, "Just like that, baby."
Felix gasps when he pulls away, a string of saliva connected his lips with the tip of Hyunjin's cock.
"Want to go for it?" he asks, scooting to the back to make room for you.
You like how they do not pressure you to do anything you don't want to and it creates a safe space, making you feel comfortable enough to continue.
To begin, you take a deep breath and let it out. Then you follow what Felix has shown you, licking the tip just like you wanted to and then slowly, taking him into your mouth.
Felix observes from the back, he gathers your hair in his hands and makes a makeshift ponytail on the back of your head.
"Oh, you're taking me so well," Hyunjin coos, can't stop looking at how his cock slides in and out of your mouth.
When you deem you have adjusted yourself to his size, you dare yourself to take more only to have it hit on your uvula and you immediately pull back.
"Slowly, bub, slowly," Felix softly mutters to your ear.
You reorganize your breath and try again, taking it slow as Felix instructed, only taking it as far as you can.
"You can use your hand," Felix suggests, putting your hand on the base of Hyunjin's cock to compensate for the rest you can't take in your mouth.
You sync the movement of your mouth and you can hear Hyunjin lowly moaning in response to the stimulations.
"Like that, yes," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his head in back, completely overwhelmed by what you're doing to him.
Seeing that encourages you to keep going without forgetting to breathe and relax.
"Good girl," Felix praises with a sweet kiss on your shoulder.
He lets you have it for another moment before stopping you, he holds your shoulder and says, "Want to do it together?"
Unable to give a verbal answer, you nod in answer.
You and Felix, each take a side and then stick your tongue out to run it up and down Hyunjin's cock. At times, you both go in the same direction, your tongues twirled around his cock and alternating between sucking and licking.
Oh, to be Hyunjin and blessed with the view of you and Felix, both of your mouths lathering around his cock. He's truly enjoying it, he tangles his hands in your heads and gently tugging at it.
"Oh, so good, so fucking good..." Hyunjin breathlessly murmurs.
Eventually, both of your lips meet on the tip and Felix pulls you for a kiss, he holds you by the neck, smiling as he kisses you.
"You're a fast learner," he praises you.
You shyly smile and mutter, "Thank you!"
He brushes your hair to the side, also removing the hair stuck to your lips then tucks it behind your ear. He leans in to place kisses along your jaw and continues the trail to your lips.
Felix gets up from the floor to sit on the sofa, he looks at you and says, "Come sit on my lap!"
You do what he asked, sitting on his lap and slowly resting your back against his chest. Felix smiles as he wraps his arms around you, his hands caress your skin with so much gentleness. You take the initiative, tilting his head so you can kiss him as he touches you all over.
Another pair of hands join in, Hyunjin's long fingers tugging at the waistband of your jeans as he plans to take your jeans off. Once he pops the button open, he slowly pulls them down and you're shivering as his fingertips graze your skin.
You feel exposed as you're only wearing your plain white underwear and Hyunjin's head is between your legs, hanging not far from your heating core.
"Relax, bub," Felix coos as he glides his hand down until it lands on your clothed sex, his dainty finger skillfully finds your bundle of nerves through the fabric and circles on it.
You're squirming against him and can't hold yourself back from moaning as he applies just the right pressure on it, making you drenched down there.
Felix puts his hand to cup your sex and rubs his fingers in between your folds, "Let's take this off, mmh?"
Hyunjin volunteers to do it for you, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear and Felix makes you hold your legs up so he can easily take it off of you.
Even after the underwear is off, Felix steadily holds your legs by the back of your knees and then parts your legs open, making you feel more exposed than before.
Felix presses a haste kiss on your jaw and says, "Hyunjin will take good care of you now."
Your attention is shifted to the man kissing down your inner thigh, you're squirming as his mouth inches closer to your wetness and when it finally makes contact, you sharply gasp.
If it weren't for Felix's hands steadily keeping your legs open, you would have clamped Hyunjin's head in between. The sight of his red, plush lips on your cunt is enough to arouse you, but now he's using his tongue, running it up and down your slit. He teases your hole with his finger before replacing it with his tongue.
"Oh, fu—" You press your lips together to stop yourself from finishing your curse.
Felix lets go of your leg so he can put his hand in Hyunjin's hair and pushes his head deeper into your wetness while Hyunjin is intensely staring back at him.
"You're doing good, darling," he says to him.
Hyunjin smiles in response to his words, he draws back to take a breath and opens his mouth wider to take more of you.
"Touch yourself," Felix says, taking your hands in his and he makes you cup your own breasts in your hands, kneading them together with him.
"Feel so good, right?" He murmurs, his breath tickling your ear.
You're overwhelmed, your legs are spasming at how intense it gets and the knot inside you tightening, you feel like imploding. You've never experienced these feelings before until now and you don't know how to handle it.
Hyunjin retracts his mouth, showing his mouth and chin glistening wet with your essence. He lands a lick between your folds and slowly, inserts his finger into you.
"Oh..." you moan, gripping Felix's forearm so hard your nails dug into the flesh.
Hyunjin smirks as he stares up at you while pumping his finger in and out of you. A while later, he pulls it out only to add another digit and now two of his long, slim fingers are inside you.
"The way you're sucking my fingers in..." he sighs, planting his mouth on your clit to tease it with his tongue and suck on it.
As if that isn't enough for him, he curls his fingers and he touches you right on the spot that makes you loudly moan. You can tell that Felix is looking at the baby monitor to check on Aster which reminds you to keep yourself quiet. But it's so hard as Hyunjin incessantly sucking on your clit with his fingers repeatedly hitting on your spot.
When Hyunjin pulls away, you can finally breathe out and relax, far too relaxed that you feel weak on the legs. Felix has to move you like you were a rag doll, he's laying you down on the sofa and then he lays next to you.
"Are you okay, bub?" He asks you with a gentle caress on your cheek.
Other than can't feel your legs? You nod, "I'm okay."
Felix softly smiles and plants his lips on yours again, making you a little less conscious and less insecure with yourself. You allow yourself to do as you please, touching his body and boldly putting your hand in his pants. You pull his pants down just enough to let his cock spring free and put your hand around it, slowly stroking it.
"Fast learner," he murmurs against your lips.
You triumphantly smile in response, opening your mouth for him so he can deepen the kiss.
The sofa isn't big enough to fit three people and Hyunjin ends up hovering above you, placing kisses on your neck and chest.
Felix's hand parts your legs open and he doesn't waste time touching you there again, rubbing on your clit as he kisses you.
The second Felix breaks the kiss, Hyunjin takes his turn. He lowers his mouth on you, hastily kissing you on the lips and then on the skin under your ear.
"Want to be inside you," he whispers.
He cups your jaw and looks at you with a piercing gaze, "Can I?"
The first thing you do is look at Felix to seek his permission first. Instead of doing that, he asks the same thing to you.
"Will you let Hyunjin do it, bub?"
It's too late to back out now, isn't it? Honestly, you've been wondering what it feels like to have something beautiful like what they have and now, you get the chance to experience that.
You swallow air and nod, but you know they need the consent to be uttered verbally, "Yes."
Rather than going right into it, Hyunjin and Felix work together to place kisses all over you, you believe they're trying to make you relax and it works, you feel less nervous with every searing kiss they plant on your skin.
Felix puts your leg over his body, exposing your gushing hole to Hyunjin and he stares at it while stroking his cock in his hand, so hard and veiny, pulsating with so much desire.
"You're so wet, bub," Felix hums as he lightly caresses your inner thighs with his fingertips.
Getting impatient, Hyunjin rubs his length in between your folds, lubricating it with your arousal. Felix helps to smear it all over his length and gives it a few pumps.
"And you're so hard, my love," he says to Hyunjin which he immediately responds with a haste kiss on his lips.
"You have to wait for your turn," Hyunjin says, leaving another peck on his lips before shifting his attention back to you.
Hyunjin tenderly kisses your lips and holds your chin as he says, "I'm going in, yeah?"
With one hand resting on your abdomen, he aims his cock toward your entrance and slowly pushes it in. Felix props his elbow against the sofa to be able to see how Hyunjin's cock disappeared into you little by little.
Oh, he stretches you out and fills you in immediately, you look down and he's not fully in yet.
"Just a little bit more, bub," Felix mutters to you, placing soothing rubs on your inner thigh.
"So tight," Hyunjin says through his gritted teeth, also overwhelmed by being inside you.
Hyunjin pulls back to slowly push it back inside you deeper than before. The slightest of movement and you can feel his whole length inside you.
"Oh! Oh, my—" you muffle yourself by pressing your lips together.
"You take him so well, bub," Felix coos, removing the hair covering your face then kisses you.
Hyunjin gives it a moment to adjust to each other, he rubs your abdomen and places a tender kiss on your sternum, "You feel so good around me," He murmurs, his lips brushing your skin as he speaks.
Felix gives Hyunjin's hair a ruffle and pulls him for a kiss, then together they place kisses on each side of your face. He turns your head to the side and captures your lips in a kiss as Hyunjin starts moving.
He starts slow and keeps a steady pace, he maintains eye contact with you if he isn't looking down at the way his cock slips in and out of you.
"Do I feel good?" Hyunjin asks in a soft tone and a soft gaze.
"Uh-huh," you answer between your moans.
Hyunjin smiles and he remains steadily thrusting into you, but adding more intensity to it, the skin slapping sound grows louder and echoes in the living room.
Felix buries his mouth in your neck while his hand goes down south, giving you extra stimulation by playing with your clit.
"Please, please..." you beg.
"Please, what?" Hyunjin asks with a faint smirk on his face.
You don't know why you plead in the first place but it's getting so overwhelming, you don't know how you can take this much and your brain is still able to function.
"Please..." you pathetically plead again.
Hyunjin pauses for a second, he props his hands on each side of your waist to give him more leverage, and that way, he can add more depth and intensity to his thrust.
"You want to cum, mmh?"
You eagerly nod even though you're not sure if that's what you want but you know it's what you need.
"You hear the girl," Felix says, putting his hand on Hyunjin's shoulder, "Give it to her, babe."
Hyunjin feels encouraged, he doesn't even need it at all, he's been thrusting into you non-stop, taking you closer and closer to your release. He brushes his hair to the back and adds speed to his thrusting.
You don't know that you've been crying until you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your moaning and crying, sometimes it's a mix of the two, feeling so overwhelmed that your brain is short-circuit.
"My goodness, oh," your voice is shaking from how hard Hyunjin thrusts into you.
"Don't hold your breath," Felix speaks right into your ear, his teeth faintly nibbling on your ear.
But you keep holding your breath because if you don't, you feel like you're about to completely lose it and combust.
"Please, please," you plead again because it's the only word your brain can compute.
Hyunjin thrusts even faster and harder, your body quakes along to his movements. Felix holds your hand as if he knows you need something to hold on to.
"Oh, oh..." your moans turn into broken cries.
"You're close, mmh?" Hyunjin manages to say as he puts all of him to get you to your release.
Your eyes are screwed shut and more tears rolling down your cheeks, you feel hot all over even though your body is covered with a thin layer of sweat.
"I can't– can't take it anymore," you stutter your words as you choke on air from constantly moaning and crying.
"Just let go, bub, let go," Felix murmurs.
You let out a choked sob and follow his words, letting yourself go even if it means you're going to explode into a million little pieces.
Two, three thrusts later, you hit your climax and everything suddenly turns white. You feel faint but at the same time, you feel this wave of electricity surging through you.
You're completely out of it until a moment later, you open your eyes to find Hyunjin rushing to pull out of you. He then holds his cock in his hand, pumping it as fast as he could until the white of his seed spurts out of him.
"Oh, yeah, baby," he sighs while keeps pumping his cock.
Felix gasps in awe watching Hyunjin make white streaks all over your chest and stomach with his seed, glistening and feeling hot on your skin.
"Oh, look at that!" He looks at Hyunjin and says, "You cum a lot, honey."
Hyunjin stops pumping his cock once he deems he's done releasing his load. He tilts his head to the back and lets out a broken yet satisfied moan.
"Gosh! That was so fucking good," he says, placing a haste kiss on your parted mouth.
Felix uses his finger to take a swab of Hyunjin's cum and have a taste of it, he smiles as if he's just tasted something as sweet as honey. Guessing that you're curious about it too, he takes another swab at it and shoves it into your mouth.
"Isn't Hyunjin taste so sweet?" He asks.
You're too fucked out to respond and Felix notices it too, he lands a sweet kiss on your lips and jaw, then says, "It's okay, we'll take care of you."
You want to stay awake but you can barely keep your eyes open anymore, you're in and out of it for quite some time. You open your eyes and see Felix licking Hyunjin's cum off of you. You close your eyes and when you open them later, you find Hyunjin and Felix, both naked and kissing each other. The next time you open your eyes, you find Felix hovering above you while Hyunjin is thrusting into him from the back.
The last thing you remember is someone putting clothes on you and after that, it's all black.
-
This is embarrassing. You wake up in the guest room wearing Felix's sweater and short pants which means someone must have put those clothes on you and then carried you to the guest room so you can comfortably sleep on the bed.
What's more embarrassing is you'll meet them whether you like it or not because it's their house.
You get off the bed and find your pile of clothes on the chair, even more embarrassing that you have to meet them wearing their clothes.
This why they called it a walk of shame and you're stupid to ever think that it would never happen to you.
Out of the guest room, you head straight to the kitchen because it's easier to face one of them first and Felix is always in the kitchen.
Felix is mysteriously looking glowing and radiant like usual, it's like he didn't drink the same amount of alcohol to you or got in a threesome last night.
He turns around and immediately notices you coming, "Good morning, bub!"
Unlike him, you're aware that you must have looked swollen and terrifying so you cup your face with both hands.
"Morning," you croak.
He turns around again to grab a glass and fills it with orange juice, then serves it to you, "How are you feeling?"
You shyly chuckle and say, "Tired."
"Reasonable," Felix comments. He gasps as if he gets reminded of something, he pulls open the kitchen drawer and takes out something.
"You might want to take this," he says, putting a Morning After pill for you.
It's endearing that he pays more attention to such things than yourself. You rip it open with your fingers and waste no time to take it.
"Thank you," you mutter as you wash it down with orange juice.
"It's not time for Aster to have a sibling yet," Felix jokingly says.
It's actually nice that he treats you like any other normal day, you were really afraid that what happened last night would make things awkward between you and him but turns out, it was all in your head.
But you don't know for sure since you've only met Felix and—
"I heard Aster is getting a sibling?" Hyunjin says from the top of the stairs, all dressed for work and carrying Aster on his shoulders.
"Haha you guys are so funny," you say with dry laughs.
How is it fair that you're the only one looking like shit this morning?
"Airplane!" Aster shouts while patting Hyunjin's head with his tiny hands.
Hyunjin grabs his hands and stretches them out, swaying them left to right like an airplane. Aster is giggling as Hyunjin jumps onto the base of the stairs.
"Time for breakfast, sweet boy," Felix says, ordering Aster to sit in his baby chair.
Hyunjin tilts his head to look at his little one, "Time's up, little buddy."
Aster giggles and plants his mouth on Hyunjin's head to place a kiss, "Oh, thank you, sweetheart."
He then carefully takes him down from his shoulders and sits him in his baby chair.
"Aster's favorites for breakfast," Felix says as he serves his plate in front of him.
"Blueberries," Aster mumbles with drooĺ dribbling down the corner of his mouth.
"And yogurt," Felix adds, putting the small spoon on his plate.
"Thank you, dada," he mumbles with his hair tousled and his cheeks flushed.
"For you, scrambled egg and toast and bacon," Felix says, putting your plate of breakfast.
"Thank you," you mutter.
"And for my breakfast?" Hyunjin asks as he walks over to him and pulls him into a hug.
Felix smiles as he puts his arms around him and affectionately kisses him on the lips. He pulls away but Hyunjin presses another kiss on him, longer and lingering.
Them making you feel like you're third-wheeling again means things are alright and it's a relief to know that what happened last night doesn't change anything about them or worse, ruin what they have. You know you can't forgive yourself if what you did would ruin this very beautiful, precious thing of theirs.
"I can't stay for breakfast," Hyunjin says.
Felix stops him from turning away, he tugs at the collar of his shirt and fixes his tie for him, "Are we still on for a date night?"
"I should take a raincheck on that," Hyunjin answers, tilting his head upward as Felix tightens the knot of his tie.
"That's okay. We can do it next week," Felix says, now flattening the lapels of Hyunjin's suit jacket.
"Invite Bubba on our next date night," Hyunjin suggests a wild idea, flashing his sly smirk at you.
"And we'd get a sibling for Aster," he jokingly adds.
You roll your eyes at him and fill your mouth with food.
Once he's done, Felix lets him go and hands him his cup of coffee, "well, I want a baby girl," he also piles in on the joke.
"We can arrange that," Hyunjin says, smirking as he sips his coffee.
Can't say you agree to get Aster a sibling but you feel good knowing that your presence doesn't feel like a threat to them, if anything, they make you feel like you're a part of them.
"I have to go," Hyunjin says, taking another sip of his coffee before putting it down on the kitchen counter. He runs to get his briefcase and walks back to the kitchen to kiss his husband.
"Have a great day at work," Felix says after placing a peck on Hyunjin's lips.
Hyunjin sweetly kisses him on the cheek and whispers, "Love you."
Felix hugs him with such love and says back, "I love you."
Oh, they're disgustingly in love with each other, you can't decide if you get the urge to vomit from watching them or you're merely filled with so much jealousy.
Hyunjin walks up to Aster and plants a long kiss on the top of his head, "Daddy has to go to work, okay?"
Aster reaches for him and adorably places a kiss on Hyunjin's cheek, "Buhbye," he says while waving his hand at him.
"Be good, my sweet angel," he says for the last time with an endearing pat on the head.
As for you, he places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it, "Have a great day, bub," he says.
"You too, Mr. Hwang," you shorty respond while chewing your food.
"It's Hyunjin," he says with a fed-up tone.
"You too, it's Hyunjin," you say with a sly grin.
Hyunjin ignores you and takes another look at Felix, staring at him with wistful eyes as if he's reluctant to go to work, and then waves bye at him.
A moment after Hyunjin leaves, Felix notices that Hyunjin left his car keys on the kitchen island.
"Honey, you're forgetting something," Felix shouts as Hyunjin hasn't gone out of the house.
You can hear his rushed footsteps and he returns to the kitchen, unexpectedly kissing Felix on the cheek.
"I'm going now," he says with a smile, thinking that the thing he forgot is kissing him bye.
"Honey!" Felix groans while laughing and you also burst out laughing from witnessing it.
"What?" Hyunjin asks in utter confusion.
Felix lifts the car keys and shows it to him, "You forgot your car keys."
"Oh?" He gasps with his mouth forming a perfect O shape, he innocently takes the keys out of Felix's hand and uses it as an excuse to kiss him again.
It's hard to not get jealous of them because you see, if there's one thing that makes you believe in love, it's them.
-
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🐶: "I'm reminded of the journey we took to get here. During our journey, there were many paths. At each of the crossroads, we had to make choices. It is through these choices we made that the eight of us stand here today."
Synopsis: Even on a road trip, you and Bangchan can’t stop teasing each other until the tension builds so much he’s forced to pull the car over. (3,3k words)
Author's note: Did someone order Bang driver? Hope you enjoy this quick snack hehehe
The hum of the highway fills the car, four hours stretching ahead of you, but all you can think about is the way Bangchan keeps glancing at you, hand sneaking onto your thigh whenever he thinks you’re not noticing. Each squeeze makes your pulse spike and that little thrill of married-couple mischief simmer between you.
You stab the last piece of cake you with a fork and bring it to his mouth, but the sudden bump on the road sending the fork sliding the side of his mouth. “Oops!” You beam, half-chuckling seeing the trail of cream on the corner of his lips.
“You do that on purpose,” Chan jokingly mutters with his plush lips forming an adorable pout.
“I’ll clean it, wait…” your words trail off as you look around for tissues but having no idea where the last time you put it, you go ahead and lick it clean for him. “There!” You beam with a satisfied smile.
Chan closes his eyes for a brief moment and slowly exhales air. “Don’t make me pull over,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, and you can’t help the playful smirk tugging at your lips.
“We need to pull over anyway. We run out of snacks and drinks,” you say as you begin gathering empty water bottles and snack wrappers around the car, putting them into plastic bag.
Chan makes a turn to a rest area, driving around a little bit to find a parking spot not too far from the convenient store. Once he kills the engine off, you unbuckle your safety belt, your hand reaching to collect trash from his side of the car, your body hovering in front of him as you do.
Then, you slowly turn your head and look at him with your lips merely inches away from his. “Do you want anything from the convenience store, daddy?”
Daddy. The word rolls off your tongue naturally, like this is not you trying to tease him by calling him that. His eyes snap to yours, dark and heated, disbelief flashing across his face. “What did you just call me, baby?”
You bite your lip, letting a mischievous smile curl at the corners. “Do you want anything, daddy?” you ask, leaning in to place a quick, teasing kiss on his jaw—your lips brushing against the stubble, a flick of your tongue teasing him before you pull back.
You watch him draw in a deep, low breath, arm wrapping around you to keep you close. “What are you trying to do, mmh?” His voice is rough, thick with desire, and you feel the heat pooling in your stomach.
You shrug, innocent, hands lifting as if you’re unaware of the effect you’re having. “I’m just asking if you want anything.”
He grins, teeth flashing, and leans in, hand sliding down to cup your ass while pressing you flush against him. His lips claim yours in a deep, greedy kiss, tongue teasing yours, and you shiver under him, every nerve alight with heat.
You pull back slightly, stepping away just enough to escape his grasp, a playful challenge in your eyes. “Do you want anything?” you ask again, voice soft and teasing.
His gaze follows you as you move toward the convenience store, dark and hungry, eyes drinking in every curve of your body. A slow, cocky smirk curls his lips. “What I want… I don’t think I can get it from the convenience store,” he says, voice low and charged, making your chest tighten with excitement.
You laugh softly, bringing the bag of trash with you as you get out of the car, leaving him staring after you, helpless and wanting. You feel the thrill of the power, the playful tension, the heat simmering just beneath the surface and you know he’s not letting you forget it anytime soon.
It ends up with Chan following you into the convenience store. You’re wandering the aisles, pretending to look for snacks, but every time you glance over your shoulder, you see him leaning against the end of the aisle, dark eyes tracking your every move. He’s already got that grin, the one that promises mischief and a little bit of danger, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.
“Need some help picking something?” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as he slides closer, brushing past you deliberately.
“I think I can manage,” you tease, but the slight smirk on your lips gives away how much you’re enjoying this little game.
He leans down as you reach for a bag of chips, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw, just below your ear, and you bite back a moan, leaning slightly into him before pulling away. “Chan!” you scold playfully, swatting at his chest, but he only grins wider.
“Just making sure you don’t get into trouble,” he murmurs, pressing another quick, teasing kiss along your neck as he trails his hand over your lower back, fingers gliding over your waist.
You step back, letting him chase you down the aisle, brushing your fingers along the shelves to slow him down, smirking as he groans low. “You make me work for it, huh?” he mutters, catching up to you and pressing a brief, greedy kiss to your lips — just enough to make your knees weak — before you step away again, teasingly shaking your head.
“Mm, can’t get me that easily, daddy,” you murmur, wiggling your hips just slightly, letting him know you’re in control… for now.
His eyes darken with hunger and amusement, voice low and teasing. “Oh, I’ll get you… eventually. And you’re going to love every second.”
You duck into a quieter aisle, pretending to scan the shelves while Chan lingers just a little too close behind you. His hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him, and before you know it, he slips his hands under your t-shirt and palms your breasts against your bra. You turn your head to the side to protest but he’s quick to catch your lips on his — slow, teasing, and impossible to resist.
You melt into the kiss for a moment, letting him explore, letting his hands kneading on your breasts for another moment, feeling the warmth and tension building between you. Every brush of his lips, every press of his body against yours sends sparks straight through you.
But then, a sound — the shuffle of shoes, a cart rolling — and you notice someone walking past at the end of the aisle. Your eyes snap open, heart racing, and you shove him back slightly, though not too harshly, just enough to catch his attention.
“Chan! Stop!” you whisper, pressing a hand on his plush lips and shooting him a sharp, playful glare.
He smirks, dark eyes glinting with amusement and desire, leaning in close but keeping just enough space between you. “I’m going to stop… for now,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, clearly thrilled at the little close call.
By the time you finally make your way back toward the car, hearts racing, breaths uneven, you can see that he’s completely undone — frustrated, desperate, and more turned on than ever. And the best part? You’ve only just begun the game.
You strut toward the car, tossing your hair over your shoulder, smirking at the way Chan’s gaze darkens as he follows behind you, hands flexing at his sides, clearly trying to keep his composure.
“Chan… come on,” you tease lightly, slowing just enough to watch him struggle with that hungry look in his eyes. “We need to get going.”
He stops abruptly, stepping in front of the passenger door, blocking your path. His hands rest on his hips, chest puffed slightly, but there’s that dangerous, teasing glint in his eyes that makes your stomach clench.
“Not this side,” he says, voice low and commanding, and your smirk falters just a little. “Huh?”
“You’re getting in the backseat,” he continues, a wicked grin tugging at his lips as he leans closer, just enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. “Right now.”
You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look innocent and defiant, but the tension coiling in your stomach betrays you. “The backseat? Really?”
He smirks, dark and playful. “Yeah… really. I’ve been patient all day with your little teasing, but now? Now I want a closer view. Trust me, you’re not going anywhere else.”
Your heart races as you realize there’s no getting past him. With a playful groan, you give in, turning and opening the rear door. Chan follows immediately, leaning close enough that your shoulder brushes his, his presence overwhelming yet intoxicating.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, sliding into the seat beside you, hand brushing against your thigh as he presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “Now… let’s see how much fun we can have back here.”
Once you’re settled in the backseat, Chan leans closer, hand grazing your thigh in the most deliberate, tantalizing way. His eyes darken, tracking every reaction you make to his touch, and you shiver, pretending to adjust your seat innocently while secretly craving more.
“You’ve been teasing me all day,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands to myself?”
You bite your lip, smiling innocently, shrugging slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you tease, letting your fingers graze the back of his hand on your thigh, letting him know you’re not completely innocent.
He groans, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw, then your neck, fingers curling around your thigh, inching higher slowly, testing your reactions. Every little moan or shiver from you makes him smile that wicked, cocky grin that melts you from the inside out.
“Mm… yeah, sure, you have no idea,” he mutters, voice thick, brushing his lips over yours in a slow, teasing kiss that leaves you breathless, tongue slipping against yours before pulling back just enough to make you ache for more.
You glance at him, smirking, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What? I’m just… making sure you’re awake,” you murmur, hands sliding over his chest, fingers brushing under his shirt just to feel the heat of him.
He growls softly, one hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Oh, I’m awake… and I want more,” he whispers, lips grazing yours again, teeth lightly nipping at your bottom lip as you part them for him.
Chan’s hand slides beneath your t-shirt, fingertips dragging across your skin as he murmurs against your lips, “You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this… wanting you.”
You laugh softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, tugging him closer. “Maybe I do,” you whisper back, voice low and breathy.
The cramped space of the backseat only makes every touch, every brush of skin against skin, feel electric. You slide closer to him and his hands are immediately on your waist, tugging your t-shirt over your head. You press your body flush against his, gasping as his hands explore the curves of you that are finally revealed.
He leans in, lips finding yours in a hungry, desperate kiss, and you can feel the tension in him — the raw desire he’s been holding back all day — as he nips and sucks along your neck, your shoulders, your collarbone.
Your fingers tug at his shirt, peeling it over his head, and you can’t help the low moan that escapes when your hands finally brush against his bare chest. The tight space only makes each movement closer, more intimate — his thigh pressed against yours, your arms wrapped around him, every inch of skin pressed together.
You glance toward the neon glow from the gas station lights outside, catching the faint reflections in the car windows. The thought that someone could see, that anyone passing by might glimpse even a hint, sends shivers racing through you. The thrill, the danger, only makes your body respond hotter, faster.
Chan grins against your lips, voice rough and low. “It’s okay. Let them watch, baby.”
You arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. You huff a soft laugh, voice trembling with need. “Let’s put on a good show then.”
He lets out a low growl, one hand sliding lower, tracing the curve of your hips, cupping your ass as he presses you even closer, while the other hand cradles your jaw, guiding you into a deep, searing kiss. His hand slides down to your breast, your nipple caught between his fingers, then he leans down, taking it into his mouth. His tongue swirling, wetting the sensitive bud with his saliva and before you know it, he takes a mouthful of your flesh in his mouth, sucking hard.
The stimulation gets your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around his broad shoulders to steady yourself. You feel his hands inching toward the waistband of your denim shorts, working open the button without looking. He pulls both the shorts and your underwear down your legs, you turn to the side to let him get rid of them.
You’re full naked on his lap now and he allows himself to touch you all over, feeling the silk of your skin with his fingertips. While he’s busy admiring your softness, you take your turn to unzip his jeans open, just enough to let his erection sprung free. You wrap your hand around it, not hesitating to stroke him slowly as you plant your lips on his again.
“Can’t believe I’m married to the hottest thing to ever walked on earth… fuck, I’m so lucky,” he murmurs against your lips.
You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle and at the same time, your heart flutters at how his words dripping with so much admiration, real and genuine admiration.
He kisses you hard before letting go with a gasp, hand cupping your jaw as he mutters, “I can’t wait anymore, baby. I have to have you right now.”
You nod as you give him the permission. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he slowly slides his cock into you, a deep groan rumbling from him as he fills you completely. “Oh, baby,” you gasp, voice trembling with need. “Can’t get enough of this tightness.”
His hand curls around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and he thrusts slowly at first, letting you adjust, letting the tension build. “Mm, you like my big cock so much, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice low and rough, lips brushing against your ear.
“Yes… oh god… please, fuck me hard, daddy,” you moan, words like fire on his skin.
Every time you call him that, it’s like flipping a switch — his thrusts become more relentless, hips slamming against yours with abandon, the car rocking slightly with each movement.
“Oh… oh, I’m so close, daddy,” you breathe, fingers gripping the leather seats for support, nails grazing his back as your body trembles under him.
His grin is cocky, hungry, and utterly unrepentant. “You like saying that, huh? Makes me fuck you even better,” he growls, pushing deeper, harder, each thrust more determined than the last.
The sounds of your moans, the slick, wet rhythm of him fucking you, echo faintly in the confined space — a private world made electric by desire. You gasp and cry out, chest rising and falling, nails digging into his arms, feeling him relentlessly chase your high. “Please, don’t stop, daddy!”
He groans deep in his throat, gripping your hips tighter, thrusting faster, every movement precise and heated, showing no concern for the world outside. The thought that someone could see you — that anyone walking past might catch a glimpse through the neon-lit windows — only fuels him, making him push harder, fuck you with even more control, more dominance, more raw desire.
“Oh… I’m so close… Oh!” you moan, voice trembling with pleasure, and his grin darkens, eyes locked on yours. “That’s it… come for me, baby,” he growls, fucking you through your high, relentless and demanding, not stopping until he’s sure you’re trembling beneath him, spent, and utterly satisfied.
The car rocks slightly with each heavy, breathless movement, your bodies slick and tangled, moans and groans filling the small space, neon lights casting shadows over flushed, sweaty skin.
When you finally reach your climax, you collapse onto his arms but Chan, he keeps going, holding you tight as he’s bucking his hips from under you, chasing his own high, not stopping until—
“Fuck, baby!” He groans into the crook of your neck, hand roughly grabbing the back of your neck as he needs something to hold on to.
You cup his jaw, angling his head so you can kiss his parted lips, messy and hungry. Like you need this kiss more than breathing. The two of you stay like that for a moment, revelling in this closeness, in this raw intimacy that strengthen the bond between you. Then, you slightly shift on his lap, lifting your hips just enough, dragging his cock out of you, followed by a trail of your mixed essence trailing down his thigh.
Chan sighs as he watches more of his seed spilling out of you, sticky and hot against his skin. “You drain me good, baby,” he murmurs against your temple.
You prop your hands against his chest to steady yourself, panting through your parted lips. You glance down and see the sheen of his release on his thigh. “And you made quite a mess, baby,” you murmur back with a sly smile.
“What do you mean?” Chan says with an eyebrow raise and then he lowers his hands to your waist, pulling you close, “We made that mess.”
-
The engine hums as Chan slides the car back onto the highway, the tension between you two still thick in the air. His arm drapes possessively around your shoulders, hand occasionally brushing your thigh as he drives, his voice low and teasing.
“You know… I could make the next hour just as… fun as the last,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, fingers kneading your thigh just enough to make you squirm in your seat.
You bite your lip, trying to look innocent, but your hand drifts lower again, teasing him through his jeans. His sharp inhale tells you everything — he’s more than aware, more than turned on, but he keeps his composure, at least on the surface.
“Mm… careful, baby,” he says, smirking. “People could see… though maybe that’s part of the fun.”
You grin, resting your head against his shoulder, letting him feel every pulse of your excitement as his hand lingers, teasing, reminding you both of what just happened. Each brush of fingers, each whispered word is a silent promise that the teasing isn’t over — not even close.
By the time the headlights sweep over the driveway of his parents’ house, it’s much later than either of you planned. You both straighten quickly, adjusting clothes, brushing hair back, slipping into the innocent couple act.
His parents greet you with a puzzled look. “Why are you two so late?” his mother asks, voice laced with curiosity.
You glance at Chan, exchanging a quick, mischievous smile. “Traffic,” you say sweetly, voice airy and light.
“Yeah… terrible traffic,” Chan adds, grinning slightly, though his arm still lingers close to your side under the guise of a casual brush.
His parents exchange a glance but don’t press further, and you both slip inside, perfectly innocent on the surface, yet each of you knowing exactly what just happened in the backseat — and that the teasing, the heat, and the fire between you two is far from over.
-
✨ MORE SEOSPICY SUNDAY SPECIAL ON PATREON✨
Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!
Synopsis: On set, you and Han play enemies. But off set, that same tension simmers into a raw, undeniable attraction neither of you can ignore. (2,4k words)
Author's note: Please enjoy this one too and don't forget to leave a feedback ❣️
On set, you and Han barely look at each other. He brushes past you without a word, you roll your eyes at him during blocking, and when the director calls cut, you both retreat to opposite corners like magnets flipped the wrong way.
The crew eats it up — the whispers, the rumors that the two of you can’t stand each other and you’d almost believe it yourself if your phone didn’t buzz in your pocket.
Stairwell, back lot. 10 minutes.
Your lips twitch, but you bite them down, making sure no one sees. Ten minutes later, you slip away, weaving past lighting rigs and costume racks until you reach the dim stairwell. Han’s already there, hood pulled low, grinning like the troublemaker he is.
“Miss me?” he teases the moment you close the door behind you.
“Barely,” you lie, but your body betrays you as soon as he presses you to the wall, kissing you like he’s been starved all morning.
His hands are on you instantly, tugging you close, lips finding yours in a hungry kiss.
“God, I’ve been dying for this,” he murmurs, grinning against your mouth, fingers already toying with the hem of your shirt. “You know how hard it is to act like I hate you all day?”
“But you do a pretty good job at it,” you tease breathlessly, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses you against the wall.
Han chuckles, nipping your bottom lip. “Guess I’m just a good actor. But I’m better at this.”
Things get heated fast — his mouth trailing down your throat, your soft sounds echoing in the quiet. His hand slides down your thigh, hooking your leg around his waist. You’re so lost in him you barely notice the hurried footsteps until—
“Are you two okay?!” A voice calls from the other side of the wall. “We thought we heard yelling—”
Han freezes, eyes widening. Then, instead of panicking, he smirks. Mischief. Always.
“You’re too loud,” he whispers against your ear, pulling back just enough so he can raise his voice. “Yeah, we’re fighting! What else is new?”
You bite your lip to hide your laugh, shoving his shoulder to keep up appearances. “Fine! I don’t even care anymore!”
The staff ushering the two of you back toward set like guilty children caught sneaking candy. Rumors will keep spreading, but at least they won’t suspect the truth. The rest of the day, the two of you keep your distance, trading cold stares and clipped words for the benefit of everyone watching. The crew whispers, the staff avoids putting you and Han too close unless the cameras are rolling, and the rumor of your “bad blood” only thickens.
When the afternoon break is called, you stretch and let out a soft sigh before saying loudly enough for your manager — and for Han, across the room — to hear, “I’m going to nap in my trailer. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
You don’t need to look his way to know he caught it; you can feel the weight of his gaze burning into your back as you walk out. A tiny smile tugs at your lips, hidden from everyone else, because you know exactly what’s coming.
Ten minutes later, the door to your trailer creaks open, and Han slips inside like he owns the place. He locks it behind him without a word, that mischievous grin already spreading across his face as his eyes sweep over you lounging casually on the small couch.
“You really think you can call nap time and I won’t show up?” he teases, his voice low and cocky. He takes a few lazy steps closer, shoulders relaxed but eyes sharp, playful menace radiating off him.
You arch a brow, feigning innocence. “Maybe I actually wanted to sleep.”
Han chuckles, leaning down until his lips brush just against your ear. “Sure you did. But you knew I’d come anyway.” His fingers trail along your thigh, the heat of his touch already unraveling your resolve. “And you knew I’d give you something way better than a nap.”
The smirk on his lips is infuriatingly charming, and you know before you even breathe your next word that resisting him is going to be impossible. The next thing you know, his body is on yours, his weight pressing you into the narrow couch cushions. His mouth crashes onto yours, hot and desperate, like he’s been starving for hours instead of just waiting through a workday.
You gasp against him, your hands instinctively threading into his hair, tugging him closer as his tongue slips past your lips. The kiss is messy, heated, all teeth and want, and when he finally pulls back, there’s a string of saliva connecting your mouths.
“God, you have no idea how hard it is pretending I don’t want you every second we’re on set,” he murmurs, his breath ragged as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. “You think I can keep watching you walk around, dressed like that, acting like you hate me, and not lose my fucking mind?”
Your laugh breaks on a moan as his teeth graze your collarbone. “You’re the one who started the whole act.”
“And it worked,” he smirks, slipping his hand under your shirt, his fingertips ghosting over your stomach before creeping lower. “Now everyone thinks we can’t stand each other—no one would ever imagine I’ve got you under me like this.”
You whimper when his palm presses firmly between your thighs, feeling the dampness on through the silky fabric of your underwear and Han drinks in the sound like it’s the sweetest thing in the world. He leans in close, whispering hot against your ear, “Fuck, baby, you’re already getting wet for me, aren’t you? Not much of a nap.”
“Han…” you whisper, torn between scolding him and begging him to go further.
He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression equal parts cocky and utterly smitten. “Say it. Tell me you want me more than sleep.”
Your heart stutters, your body arching into his touch without your permission. Your eyes telling him everything he needs to hear.
That’s all it takes. In one smooth motion, Han slides your shorts down, discarding them carelessly onto the floor. His lips return to yours, feverish, while his hand dips into your wetness, fingers stroking your clit with an agonizingly slow pace until your hips are rolling up against his palm.
“You hear that?” he breathes, smirking when you whimper louder. “That’s how I know you’re mine. No toy, no nap, no one else—just me. Always me.”
He pulls away to kneel on the bed, letting you watch as he strips every piece of clothing until he’s bare in front of you. Then, he takes your hands and puts them on his chest, slowly dragging them down his front, making you feel the ridges of his abs and the warmth of his skin. He closes his eyes as he savors the feel of your fingertips lightly grazing his skin, there’s no hint of hesitancy in the way he whimpers under your touch.
Han opens his eyes, gaze immediately lands on you and with a grin on his face, he lets go of your hands after putting them on his hardening member. He’s giving you the chance to touch him however you want, as you please.
You use both hands to stroke his throbbing length while already thinking of how it’s going to feel like when his cock is inside you. You bite your lower lip as you let your mind runs wild, hands begin pumping his cock in a steady pace. And Han, he moves his hips as he enjoys the way your hands wrapped tightly around him.
His biceps flexing as he brushes his hair to the back, a groan of pleasure escapes his small mouth. “Don’t think I can wait anymore.”
He takes your hands away only to pin them above your head, his lips crashing on yours, kissing you so hard you run of breath in a second. He glides his hands down your sides and stops at the curve of your hips, keeping you still as he aligns himself to you. A gasp slips between kisses when you feel his tip teasing your entrance. So hot, so hard. So damn… big.
When he finally pushes into you, filling you so perfectly you could cry, the little trailer walls tremble with the force of your muffled moans and his sharp curses. His rhythm is relentless but loving, every thrust laced with the kind of hunger that only months of stolen glances and secret touches could build.
Han’s mouth finds your shoulder, his teeth sinking into your skin to muffle his own sounds as he pounds into you. “Fuck—baby—you feel so good—better every damn time…”
You clutch at him, nails dragging down his back, torn between begging him to go faster and pleading for him never to stop.
When you finally come undone around him, trembling and gasping his name, Han groans deep in his chest, burying himself inside you with one last sharp thrust before spilling into you, holding you tight as if he never wants to let go.
The trailer is filled with nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths and his low chuckle as he kisses your damp hair. “Yeah,” he pants, pulling you onto his chest, still buried deep inside you. “Way better than a nap.”
You’re still catching your breath when Han shifts, rolling to his side and pulling you against him. His chest is still damp with sweat, his heartbeat steady and heavy against your back as his arm curls around your waist.
“Mm,” he hums lazily into your hair, voice rough but teasing. “If only they knew… the two actors who supposedly can’t stand each other were actually busy fucking each other’s brains out in here.”
You snort, smacking his chest lightly. “It makes us better actors. We should win awards for how convincingly we glare at each other.”
Han grins, dipping his head to kiss your shoulder. “Yeah, except when I look at you too long, I just start imagining…” His hand slides lower along your stomach, suggestive, and you squirm with a laugh. “—what I just did to you.”
Your head is still pillowed on his chest, your breaths evening out when Han’s phone buzzes on the little counter. He groans, blindly reaching for it and squints at the screen.
“It’s my manager,” he mutters, voice rough. “Asking where the hell I am.”
He sits up with a reluctant sigh, reaching for his pants. But before he gets up, he smirks down at you, hair a mess, lips still kiss-swollen. “Aren’t you going to stop me from leaving?”
You shake your head, laughter bubbling from your chest. “Nope. Go ahead. We hate each other, remember?”
Han grins at that, dropping back down onto you without warning, attacking your face and neck with exaggerated kisses until you’re squealing and pushing at his shoulders. “Stop—Han!”
He laughs, pressing one last kiss to your lips before finally rolling out of bed. He stands, stretching shamelessly, and begins tugging his clothes back on at a maddeningly slow pace, making sure your eyes follow every move. Shirt hanging open, jeans halfway undone, he throws you a cocky grin over his shoulder.
“You’re staring,” he teases, sliding his shirt on but leaving it unbuttoned. “Can’t blame you, though. I mean—this body’s yours, baby. You love it.”
You laugh from under the sheets, tossing a pillow at him. “You’re so full of yourself.”
He catches it with one hand, smirk widening. “And yet, you’re still looking.”
He finishes buttoning his shirt, then runs a hand through his hair, purposely mussing it back into its natural disarray. With one last wink, he pockets his phone and heads for the door, still chuckling when he catches you grinning at him from the bed.
However, before he can reach the door, you hop out of bed and catch his wrist, pulling him back into you. He laughs into your mouth as you kiss him hard, slow and messy, one more taste before you send him out into the world.
“You can go now,” you whisper against his lips, but you kiss him again anyway.
“Baby, if you keep this up, I’m never leaving,” he teases, though his hands are already reluctantly sliding from your waist.
You shove at his chest lightly, laughing. “Out. Before someone comes looking.”
Han gives you one last lingering kiss, sloppy and deep enough to make your knees buckle, before he finally steps into the hallway.
That’s when you hear your manager and assistant’s voices calling your name. They round the corner just in time to see Han walking straight out of your trailer. Panic hits like a lightning bolt so without thinking, you slap Han on the cheek. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop bothering me?!”
The words fly out of you before your brain catches up. Han stares at you, wide-eyed, the sting of your palm still on his cheek. For a beat, he looks genuinely stunned—hurt, even—but then his jaw clenches. You flash him an apologetic look but he doesn’t say a single word. Just flashes you one more unreadable look before walking away.
“Unbelievable,” your manager mutters, storming into the trailer after you. “What is going on with you two? You need to stop treating Han like that. Do you realize what the press will say if they catch even a whiff of this? You’re supposed to get along for the sake of this movie!”
You sink onto the couch, rubbing your temples, doing your best to look annoyed instead of guilty. “He just gets under my skin,” you say simply, waving it off.
Your manager sighs, already pulling out her phone. “Fix it. Or at least pretend you fixed it.”
As her lecture drones on, your phone buzzes in your hand. You glance down, shielding the screen.
Han: not gonna lie. that slap kind of turns me on.
Your lips twitch, fighting the smile threatening to betray you. Another buzz follows.
Han: so… when can we ‘nap’ again?
You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, secretly typing a reply on yout phone under the table while your manager continues to scold you, completely oblivious.
You: my place. tonight.
And just like that—you’re already counting the minutes until your next secret rendezvous.
-
Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or tip me on my ko-fi!
Synopsis: Struggling to make ends meet as an art student, Hyunjin never expected his quiet neighbor to change everything. Rumored to be an adult content creator, you offer him a deal—help you with your content, and you’ll help with his financial troubles. What starts as a simple arrangement soon blurs into something more, pulling Hyunjin into a world he never imagined.
Synopsis: Struggling to make ends meet as an art student, Hyunjin never expected his quiet neighbor to change everything. Rumored to be an adult content creator, you offer him a deal—help you with your content, and you’ll help with his financial troubles. What starts as a simple arrangement soon blurs into something more, pulling Hyunjin into a world he never imagined. (9,7k words)
Author's note: I want to thank you for following Cam series. It's been fun. Hope you enjoy this one too ♡
Hyunjin shuts the door behind him and doesn’t look back. Each step away from your apartment echoes louder in his head than the last. His chest feels tight, like he’s holding something back—like maybe he should’ve said more. Maybe he should’ve said anything else. But instead, he chose silence and walked away.
He tells himself it’s the right thing to do. That this is better. That he needs the space. That things were getting too tangled, too fast.
It’s just work, he reminds himself. You were helping me. I was helping you. That’s all it was supposed to be.
But the memory of your smile when you offered him lunch creeps in anyway. So does the look in your eyes when you asked if he was okay—genuine, soft, concerned. Too concerned. He could’ve told you the truth. That it wasn’t just about the job anymore. That he was starting to feel something he wasn’t sure he could handle.
Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten involved to begin with. Maybe he should’ve just focused on his art like he always planned. Still… he feels like he’s walking away from more than just work and that’s what scares him most.
Hyunjin spends the rest of the afternoon staring at the canvas. The brush is in his hand, the colors are ready, but the strokes come out hesitant. Disjointed. Aimless. He tells himself to focus—just paint, Hyunjin. Paint anything. And so, he does.
Slowly, shapes begin to form. A curve here. A slant there. He fills in the shadows, soft and warm, and before he realizes what he's doing, he’s painting you. Your eyes, the exact shade he remembers under the afternoon sun. Your lips, curled in a smile he can’t quite forget. Your skin, the way it glowed under the yellow light in the hallway when you said his name like it meant something. He doesn’t stop until your face is there, staring back at him and he hates it.
Not the painting. The painting is beautiful. But the fact that you’re still in his head—still under his skin.
That night, he lies in bed, restless. The room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside his window. When he finally drifts off, you’re there again. In his dream, you're laughing. You're reaching for him. You're so close that he swears he can smell your perfume, feel the warmth of your fingertips tracing his wrist.
And when he wakes up, breath caught in his throat, the ghost of your touch still lingers on his skin.
-
You try to move on. You tell yourself it’s fine—that people quit all the time. That maybe he just got busy, overwhelmed, maybe school is catching up to him. You try to reason with yourself, even smile at the thought of him doing well without needing you. But the truth is, none of that makes you feel any better.
You can accept that Hyunjin doesn’t want to work with you anymore. What you can’t accept—what keeps tugging at your chest like a thread being pulled loose—is that he didn’t even give you a reason why.
No conversation. No explanation. Just that look on his face, distant and closed off, and the way he walked away like everything between you didn’t mean a thing.
You think about how his voice used to sound when he laughed at your stupid jokes. You think about his fingers—paint-stained and warm—fixing the lighting for your shoot like he actually cared. You think about the way his eyes used to linger on you, like he wanted to say something but never did.
Maybe it was all in your head. Maybe you wanted to believe he cared more than he actually did. You spiral—hard. The thoughts come in fast and loud. Of course he didn’t want to stay. Who would?
You sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone like it holds the answers. But there are no new messages. No calls. No missed anything. Just silence.
You tell yourself to move on. To focus. To film something. Edit. Call someone else to help. But none of it feels right. None of it feels like him. And maybe that’s the hardest part. Not that he left, but that he left you not knowing why.
Now you can’t stop thinking that maybe it’s not about work at all. Maybe he just doesn’t want anything to do with you. And maybe... he's right to feel that way.
The curtains are drawn, casting a muted gray over your apartment. You’ve been lying on the sofa for hours, curled up in the same position, the blanket barely clinging to your body as your phone keeps chiming over and over. You know what it is. You don’t even have to look.
Eventually, with a sigh, you reach over and swipe it off the table, the screen lighting up with a flood of notifications—all of them from Lustre.
You open the app. Your inbox is filled with flirty, suggestive messages. Compliments on your last post. Requests. Heart emojis. Tips. Offers. You scroll through them with your thumb, barely registering the words. Just eyes glazed over, searching, hoping—waiting—for one name to appear.
But it doesn’t. He’s not there. Not even a silent like. Not even a ghost view.
Your shoulders drop, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping your lips before you toss your phone aside. It lands on the cushion with a soft thud, screen dimming back to black. You drag yourself up, feet cold against the floor as you wander aimlessly around your apartment. It’s too quiet. Too still. And your mind feels just as noisy as it is empty.
As you walk past the makeshift studio, you pause. Something catches your eye. You lean against the doorway, arms crossed as you stare at it—the massive painting that takes up nearly half the back wall. The one you did with Hyunjin. The colors, bold and chaotic. Your brush strokes and his—blended, layered, messy. Your bodies had moved in sync, hands stained with paint, clothes ruined, laughter echoing as you danced around the canvas like kids. Then, the shoot after—bare skin streaked with color, flashes of camera light, his hand warm against your hip as he adjusted the lens.
You remember how proud he was of that piece. The way you both collapsed on the floor after, cracking open cold drinks, toasting with paint-smeared fingers. The initials you both scrawled in the corner, still visible beneath a smudge of deep blue. It was the first of many. A beginning. And now it just feels like an echo of something that’s already ended.
Your heart aches—sharp and sudden, like a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You step closer, fingers brushing the dry surface of the canvas, as if touching it might bring some part of him back even though you know it doesn’t and you’re left there in the silence, missing someone who might’ve already let you go.
Squatting down, your eyes catch the initials in the corner: S.H.
You trail your fingers over them, gently outlining the letters. Your voice barely makes a sound as you murmur, “Sam Hwang.”
The name feels strange in your mouth—familiar, but distant, like something you've read in passing but never truly paid attention to.
Sam Hwang…
You say it again, this time letting it roll slower off your tongue. And then you freeze. You straighten up slowly, eyes widening as your mind starts connecting the pieces.
Sam Hwang.
You scramble for your phone, heart thudding as you fumble to unlock it. Your fingers are unsteady as you tap open the Lustre app and pull up the messages from that one user you had grown fond of—the one who always left sweet, thoughtful notes beneath your content. Never crude. Always kind.
You scroll back through the messages. The way they referenced things you never shared online—small details, like the time you wore your hair differently, or when you used a different song in your clips. It felt like they knew you. Like they saw you.
And then your brain syncs it all at once. The flowers.
Those purple tulips Hyunjin brought you, for no reason at all—just because. You thought it was sweet, random and you were too busy to notice it. But then you remember that it's the flowers on his profile picture. You stare at the screen, your pulse racing.
Mag.Shawn.
Sam Hwang.
It's an anagram. It’s him. It’s been him all along. You cover your mouth with your hand, a shaky breath slipping past your fingers as you try to steady yourself. Every message flashes through your mind now, suddenly reframed in Hyunjin’s voice. The compliments. The support. The gentle teasing. The way he never crossed a line.
Your knees give slightly, and you sit back on the floor with your phone still clutched in your hand, your heart pounding as if you just uncovered a secret love letter that was never meant to be found. Now that you know… everything feels different because it was never just about work. Not really. It was always something more.
-
Hyunjin is tired. Not the kind of tired that paint-stained fingers and aching shoulders bring—but the kind that seeps into the space behind his ribs, hollowing out something he’s not sure he’ll find again.
The school studio had been silent all day except for the low hum of music and the scratch of brushes against canvas. He painted aimlessly, moving through motions that didn’t bring the kind of release they once did. He should’ve felt accomplished. But instead, he just felt... alone.
When he finally makes his way back to the apartment building, the sky is a deep shade of navy. He climbs the familiar stairs slowly, dragging his feet, thoughts tangled like loose threads in his mind.
It’s when he rounds the corner, about to take the next flight up, that he sees you. Sitting on the steps, elbows on your knees, fingers nervously fidgeting. And when you look up—eyes locking with his like magnets clicking into place—Hyunjin stops breathing for a second. He knows that look. It's the same one he saw on that night you first talked to him. You’ve been waiting for him.
You rise slowly, carefully, like you’re afraid you might scare him off. But your voice is steady when you ask, “Can we talk?”
Hyunjin clenches his jaw. His heart hammers against his ribs, screaming yes, yes, let her in—but his head tries to keep control.
“There’s nothing left to talk about,” he says flatly. He doesn’t even look at you when he moves past, doesn’t dare. If he does, he knows he’ll unravel.
You don’t give up. Your footsteps echo behind him, too close, too persistent, and your voice comes again, more urgent this time. “I’m not mad that you quit, Hyunjin. I just need to know why.”
He doesn’t answer. Can’t. The words stay lodged somewhere in his throat, too complicated, too heavy to give voice to. His fingers tighten around the doorknob as he unlocks it. He finally turns to face you, his body angled half into the apartment, half still in retreat.
“Can we not do this now?” he mutters. “Just… not tonight.”
He starts to step inside but then you’re pushing forward—determined, fierce—and before he can stop you, you’re inside his apartment. The door clicks shut behind you, and the air between you both thickens.
“I’m not leaving,” you say quietly, “not until we talk.”
And just like that, he knows—there’s no more hiding.
You stand in the middle of the room like it’s a battlefield. You’ve crossed your arms in front of you, trying to brace yourself, trying not to fold. Your voice cuts through the heavy silence.
“Why?”
Hyunjin avoids your eyes. He turns slightly away, jaw tense. “I’m just tired,” he mutters. “I need to focus on school.”
You don’t say anything for a moment. You just stand there, the weight of his answer settling between you. Then, quietly, you say, “That’s not the real reason.”
Your voice begins to build, unraveling with everything you’ve been holding back. “These past few days I’ve been going over everything in my head, over and over again. I needed to know why, Hyunjin. Why you left like that, without saying a word. I thought maybe I did something wrong, maybe I made you uncomfortable, or maybe…”
Your voice cracks as frustration begins to break through. “Is it because of that night at Sienna’s party? Was it about Felix? Was it... me?”
Hyunjin flinches, hands tightening into fists at his sides. Your words sting in places he doesn’t want to admit. “It’s because I know you don’t want me,” he blurts, louder than he means to. You stare at him, eyes narrowing, confused. He takes a shaky breath, and his voice comes again, rawer this time. “Why haven’t you posted the content we made together? Is it because you didn’t want to do it with me? Because you don’t want me in it? Or is it… is it because you’re ashamed?”
You’re quiet now. The question hangs in the air like smoke. Then you breathe in, shaky and small, and your voice is almost a whisper when you speak. “I didn’t post it because I don’t want this life for you.”
Your arms uncross, and your gaze drops to the floor. “You’re a real artist, Hyunjin. You’re talented. You deserve to be known for your work—not as some guy who makes content with me.”
Your voice is trembling now, your words fragile. “I don’t want to be the reason you get looked at differently. Judged. You’re better than this.”
Hyunjin’s chest tightens. He almost snaps again, but he holds it in. Instead, he takes a step forward, voice low and steady. “Better than what, huh?”
You look up at him, eyes glassy, lips parting like you might speak—but nothing comes out. Another tear escapes, and without thinking, he reaches for you, gently placing his hands on your elbows.
“Do you even know what I want?” he asks, softer now.
You blink, your breath catching, and you shake your head. “No,” you say quietly. “But I know you’re better than this. I know you deserve more.”
His thumb catches the tear that rolls down your cheek.
“What if this—” he whispers, voice shaking just a little, “what if you are what I want?”
Hyunjin leans in slightly, the words right there, barely held back. “I want you,” He says, breathing through the emotion swelling in his chest. “And whatever comes with you.”
-
The second those words leave his mouth—“I want you. And whatever comes with you.”—you break.
It’s not graceful or quiet. It’s a sudden rush of breath you didn’t know you were holding, and then your face crumples as the tears fall fast and hot. You cover your face with both hands, like that could somehow muffle the sound of your sob, but it doesn’t work.
Hyunjin’s eyes widen with alarm, as if he hadn’t expected that reaction. As if he doesn’t understand why it hurts you so much to hear something so kind.
“You shouldn’t,” you croak between your fingers, voice thick and breaking. “You shouldn’t want me.”
That’s the part that cracks him open too. He doesn’t ask you why. He doesn’t tell you you’re wrong. He just steps forward and wraps his arms around you like he means to hold every shattered piece of you together. His warmth surrounds you instantly—his arms firm around your back, one hand on the back of your head, gently cradling you as you cry into his shoulder.
“I do,” he whispers, voice close to your ear. “I want you. I only want you.”
You cling to him, your hands fisting into the back of his shirt as if letting go would undo everything. The weight of everything—the confusion, the distance, the aching loneliness—pours out of you all at once, and still, Hyunjin holds you tighter.
You breathe in slowly, trying to steady the trembling in your chest. The worst of your tears have passed, but your throat still burns and your hands are still curled in the fabric of his hoodie, like you’re afraid to let go.
When you finally lift your head, your eyes meet his—deep, warm, unwavering. And it’s there again. That quiet devotion. That stubborn tenderness he always gives you without asking for anything in return.
“I do want you,” you rasp, voice barely above a whisper. “But I just… I know you deserve better.”
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his thumb brushes softly across your lips, silencing the words before they can cut deeper into the space between you. He looks at you with something like heartbreak and fierce affection wrapped into one.
“You’re the only one I want,” he says, voice low and sure, as if daring you to challenge him again and then he leans in.
His lips find yours in a kiss that’s tender at first, then deepens with something heavier—something full of things he’s been holding back for far too long. It’s not rushed, not messy. It’s slow, consuming, full of warmth and ache and all the unsaid things that have been living between your hearts.
When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. Just enough to cup your face with both hands, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath mixing with yours.
“You’re all I want in this world,” he whispers.
And before you can say anything else, he kisses you again—like a vow, like a promise, like he’s sealing every word he just said with the press of his lips against yours.
You pull away just enough to catch your breath, your forehead still resting against his. Your lips are tingling, heart pounding, and there's something new blooming in your chest—hope, maybe. Or something dangerously close to it.
You swallow, eyes flicking down to his lips before finding his gaze again. “Do you… want to continue?” you ask softly. “Pick up where we left off that night?”
For a moment, Hyunjin just blinks at you—like the question caught him off guard. But then a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, warm and crooked and so undeniably him. He lets out a breathy laugh, voice laced with fond disbelief. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”
Hyunjin kisses you again—deeper this time, with more urgency. Like something in both of you has snapped free and there's no turning back now. His hands slide down to your thighs, and in one swift motion, he hoists you up. You gasp softly, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist, your arms looping around his shoulders as you press yourself closer. Your bodies fit together like they remember how it felt—how right it was.
The kiss grows heated, the air between you humming with everything unsaid and everything still to come. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, it feels like the weight on your chest has lifted, like you're exactly where you're supposed to be—held tightly in his arms, kissed like you're the only thing he sees.
Hyunjin carries you down the short hallway with a kind of quiet certainty, his arms secure around you, his breath steady near your ear. Your heart flutters with every step—part anticipation, part disbelief that you're here, that this is happening again but different, deeper.
You glance over your shoulder, peeking into the dimly lit room as the two of you enter. It's the first time you’ve seen his bedroom, and the sight makes your lips twitch. The bed—mattress on the floor, slightly rumpled sheets, a couple of sketchbooks stacked on the nightstand—is exactly what you expected, yet still makes you grin.
You turn your head back to him, raising an eyebrow. “No bedframe, huh?”
Hyunjin just smirks, unbothered. “Didn’t realize I needed one to impress you.”
Your laughter is soft, breathy against his neck, and before you can fire back a reply, he’s already kneeling to lower you onto the mattress. The sheets are cool against your skin, but the warmth in his eyes keeps you steady. He leans over you, his fingers brushing your cheek, and for a second, he just looks at you like he's taking you in all over again, like you're his favorite work of art.
You feel it—that pull in your chest, that ache in your throat—as Hyunjin hovers above you, his eyes locked onto yours. There’s something intense in his gaze, something unspoken yet so loud it fills the room. His stare burns through the quiet, says everything he hasn’t said yet and everything you’ve been too scared to admit.
When he kisses you again, his body settles gently over yours, and you instinctively welcome the weight of him, the warmth, the way his presence wraps around you like a second skin. There’s nothing frantic about the way he touches you—his hands glide over your body like he’s relearning every inch. But even within that gentleness, there’s a sense of urgency. His fingers trail down your arm, brushing the side of your waist, and you can feel how much he wants you—how much he’s been wanting you. Still, there’s something soft in his every movement. Like even when he’s aching for you, he’s still being careful with your heart.
You don’t know what gets into you—but the moment your eyes meet his, wide and expectant beneath you, something shifts. A boldness, maybe. A need to let him feel what you've been holding back. You roll over, catching him off guard, and suddenly it's him beneath you. His back hits the mattress with a soft thud, and his breath catches as your legs settle on either side of his hips. His hands instinctively find your waist, grounding himself in your touch.
For a moment, you just take him in. The way his dark hair falls into his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his chest rises and falls a little quicker now. You can’t help but trace the shape of him with your eyes, then with your hands—slowly, deliberately. Fingers skimming down his chest, feeling the warmth beneath the fabric.
You start unbuttoning his shirt, one at a time. His muscles tense beneath your touch, his breath hitching when your palm brushes bare skin. When the shirt parts open, your hand slides over the contours of his chest—smooth skin, defined lines, the flutter of his heartbeat under your fingertips.
And then your lips follow. You press gentle kisses against his skin, soft and slow, tasting the warmth of him, the way he shivers with every touch. As your kisses trail lower, his breath grows more uneven. You pause just at the edge of his waistband, the tension between you humming like a live wire. You lift your head just enough to look at him, his lips parted, eyes dark with anticipation, and the faintest tremble in his breath. You smirk.
Then you lean in and kiss him—hard. His lips mold to yours instantly, his hands gripping your waist tighter, pulling you closer, like he needs you there, needs this. And between the kisses, your voice dips low, teasing against his mouth.
“Why are you so nervous?” you murmur, brushing your nose against his. “It’s not like this is the first time we’re doing this.”
You feel the subtle hitch in his breath, the way his fingers flex against your skin. Still, he doesn’t answer—not with words. Instead, he surges up, kissing you again. Deeper this time. Hungrier. Like that was all the encouragement he needed.
You melt into it, into him, your body pressed flush against his, his warmth grounding you in ways nothing else ever could. His hands roam—up your back, over your spine, holding you close and you stay there, tangled in him, lips moving together in quiet desperation, slow but insistent, a rhythm you both fall into with ease.
You breathe him in, every kiss tasting like something familiar but new again. And wrapped in his arms, with the weight of his affection holding you steady, the ache in your chest softens.
For now, it’s just the two of you. No doubts, no questions—just this moment, and the way he makes you feel like you’re the only thing he wants.
-
Hyunjin feels every second of your kiss like it’s being etched into his memory—every soft press of your lips, every shift of your body melting against his. You fit against him so perfectly, like your body was molded to match his. And god, he could stay like this forever.
Even with his mouth busy, his heart races as he feels your hand glide lower, fingers trailing the edge of his jeans. He catches your wrist gently, right before you can slip your hand beneath the waistband. You pull back slightly, gasping in surprise, and the look on your face—wide-eyed and slightly mischievous—makes his chest ache in the sweetest way.
You’re straddling him still, your legs snug around his hips, and he props himself up on one elbow, gazing at you. Your lips turn into an adorable pout. “But we’ve been waiting so long for this.”
He knows you’re right. He knows the urgency, the ache in your voice—it’s the same one he feels burning through him.
“I know,” he murmurs, voice low as he reaches up, brushing a few strands of your hair away from your face. He lets his fingertips trail along your jaw before settling just beneath it, holding you gently.
He leans in and kisses you. Slowly. Purposefully. Like he’s telling you everything he can’t quite put into words. When he pulls back, barely an inch from your lips, he rests his forehead against yours and whispers, “But let's make this lasts.”
You let out a quiet breath, your lips curling into a soft smile, and he swipes his thumb gently across your bottom lip, marveling at the way you look at him like he’s worth something, like he matters. And then he kisses you again, capturing that smile with his lips, holding it there between the both of you—this tender, perfect moment that feels like it could stretch into forever.
His hands find the hem of your blouse, fingers brushing warm skin as he gently tugs the fabric upward and over your head. You let him, your arms rising instinctively, eyes never leaving his. He trails his fingers down the length of your arms afterward, slow and reverent, like you’re something sacred, something to be worshiped.
When he reaches behind you, his fingers find the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with ease. You let the straps slide down your shoulders, and he watches as you shrug it off completely, tossing it somewhere forgotten. His breath catches when he sees you—bare, soft, and beautiful in the dim light.
He reaches out, fingertips tracing the slope of your collarbone before moving lower. He touches your chest with care at first, almost in awe, and rests his hand flat on your sternum, feeling the rapid thud of your heart beneath his palm. Slowly, he glides it down until it finds home on your ribcage, holding you steady as he leans in.
His mouth follows next—kisses pressed along your jaw, trailing to the curve of your neck, each one lingering longer than the last. He kisses your chest, hands rising to cup your breasts with a kind of reverence, but also urgency. His palms are warm, fingers pressing in gently, fondling and kneading. When he takes your nipple into his mouth, your breath stutters into a soft moan, and that sound alone drives him wild.
He lavishes attention on you, switching sides, leaving behind faint wet marks on your skin—his own quiet claim. He moves higher, up your chest, his tongue smoothing along your skin before he suckles the hollow between your neck and shoulder, and he feels you shiver beneath him.
Hyunjin breathes you in as he buries his face against your sternum, his lips resting just above your heartbeat. It drums steadily against him, louder somehow now that everything else has quieted — the world, his thoughts, the tension that had built between the two of you over the past days. All of it fades as he listens to the rhythm of your heart, like it’s telling him something he already knows deep down.
Your hands come up gently, arms wrapping around his shoulders, holding him close. Your fingers slide into his hair and he sighs into your skin — the sound barely audible but full of meaning. You don’t speak. Neither of you needs to. It’s not about words right now.
The warmth of your embrace, the bare skin against his, the rise and fall of your chest under his cheek — it feels like a thread, invisible and delicate, tugging the two of you closer until there’s nothing between you. Nothing but the ache of longing finally answered. He presses a soft kiss to your chest, right over your heart, and stays there, still, quiet, content.
For the first time in a long while, Hyunjin feels whole — like he isn’t running from anything anymore. Like maybe this… is exactly where he’s meant to be.
After a long moment, he lifts his head from your chest, his breath warm against your skin as his gaze finds yours — intense and unreadable. Then, without a word, he shifts his weight and catches you off guard, pushing you gently down onto the bed, reversing your positions once more. You let out a soft gasp, eyes wide as you land against the mattress, your hair fanned out beneath you.
His hands frame your face as he leans down and kisses you again — slow, deep, claiming. You can feel the change in him, in the air. It’s not rushed. It’s not just need. It’s more than that now.
As his lips part from yours, his hands begin to explore you again, moving down your sides in a slow, reverent motion. Every brush of his fingers leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. When they reach your hips, they linger for a heartbeat before he tugs gently at the waistband of your shorts.
His gaze lifts to meet yours again, seeking permission without speaking, and when you give the slightest nod, he inhales quietly and then continues — slowly peeling them down your legs, your underwear along with them. The air feels cooler against your skin as you’re exposed to him fully, but the way he looks at you makes you feel anything but vulnerable.
He kneels there at the edge of the bed, unmoving for a moment, just looking at you. Not in lust — though there’s desire in his eyes — but in awe, like he’s looking at a painting he doesn’t dare touch, like he wants to memorize every curve of you, every detail, as if you were art in motion. And to him, you are.
His hands are steady as he leans in again, his lips brushing over yours in a soft, lingering kiss before moving lower. He places gentle, fluttering kisses along your collarbone, then down to your ribcage — slow, unhurried. His mouth grazes your navel, then your left hip, each press of his lips last longer than then previous.
You gasp softly when he slips his hand under the back of your thigh and lifts it, his lips finding the soft skin of your inner thigh. He lingers there for a breath, the warmth of his mouth sending ripples through your entire body. Then he trails lower, his lips brushing down your calf, and finally landing on the sole of your foot. The unexpected kiss makes you giggle, the sound breaking through the quiet like sunlight through clouds.
After giving your foot a quick massage, he gently sets your leg down and looks up at you, his expression shifting — no longer teasing or playful, but full of something much deeper. He sighs, almost shakily, and brings his hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing along your cheek.
“I should be the one asking if I deserve all this,” he murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “If I really deserve every beautiful part of you… to touch you, kiss you, hold you.”
You don’t say anything — the way you look at him already says enough.
Hyunjin reaches for your hand, holding it tenderly in both of his. He brings your wrist to his lips first, placing a kiss there like he’s sealing a vow, then presses one to your open palm. Then he shifts forward, lowering himself over you slowly. His body presses gently into yours, his skin warm, his heartbeat strong and steady against your chest.
This time, he’s not just close. He’s with you — completely, quietly, and fully present. Molding into you, like the final brushstroke that completes a painting.
Just when you’re completely wrapped in him, he suddenly pulls away, sitting up on the bed with a breathless laugh, eyes flickering with something unspoken. You watch him as he impatiently pushes his jeans down his hips, shedding the last barrier between you. His sigh of relief is audible, and the way his chest rises and falls is enough to make your breath catch.
Hyunjin doesn’t waste time to wrap his hand around his swollen length with evident veins coiling around it, pulsating with need. He glances at you through heavy lashes, his hand begins stroking it up and down, then he murmurs, “Do you want to?”
You don’t answer with words—just a slow, sure nod. He reaches for your hand, guiding it gently, curling your fingers around his hot, hard cock.
The moment your hand wraps around him, his jaw tightens, his eyes fluttering half shut. Together, you find a rhythm—pumping his cock at a slow, steady pace, the tension thick between you as your eyes stay locked, every breath shared and every movement deliberate. There's no rush, just this quiet moment of closeness, of trust and want, unfolding between the two of you.
Hyunjin’s breath hitches as your hand continues its slow movements, the tension in his body unraveling under your touch. His eyes stay on you, dark and intense, until they flicker downward. With one hand still wrapped around yours, guiding the rhythm, his other hand trails down your thigh—light, teasing, reverent.
When his fingers slip between your legs, dipping into your wetness. His touch is gentle at first, exploratory, but it doesn't take long before he’s pressing two digits into you, finding the spot that makes you shift and gasp. His lips part as he watches your reaction, his own breathing getting heavier.
“So wet,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, “so ready for me.” There’s awe in the way he says it, almost like he can’t believe this is real—that you're here, letting him touch you like this.
The sensation of his fingers working you open while your hand still pumping his cock pulls a shiver from deep inside. It’s a push and pull, each of you responding to the other in quiet desperation, building the tension between you. His forehead presses to yours for a second, grounding both of you, his eyes closed like he’s trying to savor every second and when he opens them again, there’s no mistaking the hunger swimming there—an ache mirrored in your own heart.
You barely have time to react before Hyunjin grabs both of your wrists and pins them gently above your head, his fingers firm but careful around your wrists. His eyes meet yours, hooded and dark with want, and for a moment, all you can hear is your breathing—intertwined and uneven.
Then his free hand slips between your bodies, guiding himself down until the thick heat of his cock presses right against where you need him most. He doesn’t enter—only drags his length along your soaked core, slow and maddening, your essence coating his shaft for every time it sides between your folds. The friction makes your back arch, your body instinctively chasing more, needing more. But Hyunjin just smirks, watching the way you react to him as the tip of his cock pressing right on your clit.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, voice gravelly, lips brushing against your cheek as his hips roll forward again, grinding against you in a way that makes your whole body tense and tremble. “This is how much I want you…”
You whimper beneath him, wrists still caught in his hold, entirely at his mercy. Each slow stroke of his hips is deliberate, calculated to tease, and it works—you're writhing, eyes fluttering shut, your legs falling open for him without a second thought.
Hyunjin leans down and kisses your jaw, your neck, then your lips, swallowing every sound you make as he keeps moving, driving you to the edge without even taking you there yet.
Despite the desperate, breathless moans you let out, he doesn’t ease up. If anything, his teasing only grows more deliberate, each slow roll of his hips keeping you right on the edge, never enough to satisfy the ache building in your core. You squirm beneath him, your breaths coming out shaky, helpless—your body begging for what your lips still struggle to say.
“Please,” you whisper. Then again, more desperate. “Please… please…”
Hyunjin lowers his head, brushing his lips against your temple. “Please what?” he murmurs, voice rough with control, eyes glinting with mischief.
You can’t answer—not with words. Instead, you keep whispering his name between each breathless plea, your hands clutching at his arms, your hips lifting, chasing him. A slow, almost smug smile forms on his lips.
And then finally, you manage a broken, “I want you.”
He pauses to look down between your bodies where your need for him is obvious—undeniable. He can see it from how drenched you are, from the way your essence gets all over his thick shaft.
“Yeah?” he says, low and teasing, brushing the crest of his cock against you, slipping just barely in. “I can see that.”
You let out a choked whimper, nodding frantically, pleading again without shame. “Please. I need you.”
Hyunjin releases your wrists, only to grip your hip with one hand and steady himself with the other. Slowly, achingly slow, he pushes into you—just an inch or two—then stops. The pressure is there, intense and lingering, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough. He looks down at you, lips parted, eyes dark and focused entirely on the way you react to him.
“You want more?” he asks, breath hitching as he holds himself still inside you, teasing you with just enough to drive you wild.
Your back arches, fingers digging into the sheets. “Yes,” you gasp. “More. Please…”
Hyunjin leans in, kissing your neck before murmuring against your skin, “Then hold on to me.”
Despite his words, he doesn’t grant your plea just yet. Instead, he moves with intention—slow, shallow thrusts that never go deeper than your entrance, but it’s more than enough. Each time he rocks into you, it sends a ripple of heat through your body, igniting something that builds faster than you expect. He watches you carefully, his hand gripping your hip tighter each time you clench around him.
You’re unraveling beneath him, your breath catching, moans spilling from your lips in broken, rasping fragments. And he can feel it—how close you are, how your body trembles under the weight of your need.
“You’re close,” he whispers, voice husky as he leans closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
You nod, unable to form words, completely lost in the feeling. Then it hits. Your back arches, fingers twisting into the sheets as your release rushes through you in waves, pleasure so intense it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.
Your body pulses around him, and you’re still gasping for breath when Hyunjin finally moves again. He exhales shakily—almost a groan—and slowly sinks all the way in, filling you completely in one smooth, careful push. He's giving you what you want when you least expect it.
You gasp, overwhelmed, your body still sensitive from the climax. The sensation of him, so hard, so deep and still inside you, makes your whole body shiver. You can feel his heart pounding against yours, his breath brushing over your lips as he hovers above you.
He stills, just holding you, letting you feel every inch of him as your body adjusts—pulsing, vibrating gently around him. “You feel… unreal,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his voice raw with awe.
-
Hyunjin feels like everything.
Inside you, around you—He is all you can feel, all you can see. And for the first time, it truly feels like the two of you have become one. Every breath he takes, you feel it in your lungs. Every beat of his heart echoes in your own.
You wrap your arms tightly around him, pulling him closer, needing to feel his weight, his warmth, his reality. Your lips find his, and he kisses you like he’s been holding back an ocean of longing—eager, deep, like he wants to memorize the shape of your mouth.
You pull away just a little, breath caught, lips still brushing his as you whisper, “Hyunjin…”
The second his eyes meet yours, you know he’s listening—really listening. Like your voice is the only sound in the world.
“Take me,” you say, voice low and trembling. “Make me... Claim me.”
His brows draw together, jaw twitching like he’s trying to hold something back. You reach up and brush the hair that’s fallen over his face, tucking it behind his ear, your thumb gliding gently across his temple.
“Come inside me,” you breathe.
That’s when you feel it—something in him shifts, snaps, cracks wide open. His restraint melts away, and suddenly his mouth is on yours again, desperate, aching. He starts to move, slow at first, but there’s something different now. Every thrust is more than just movement—it’s a vow, a promise, a confession.
There’s no bedframe beneath you, just the mattress pressed against the floor, and for a fleeting second, you’re oddly thankful—because with the way he’s moving, rough and hungry, anything else would’ve fallen apart beneath the weight of it all.
His gaze never leaves you. It darkens when he sees your hands slide up to your chest, fingers teasing over your erected nipples, doubling the pleasure sparking through your body. You squeeze and cup yourself, breath hitching, and when you bring your breasts together for him, he takes them in his mouth in an instant. His tongue swirls, flicks, sucks on your nipples and on the flesh of your mounds, drawing shameless moans from your throat that echo off the bare walls.
Then he grabs your hands gently, pulling them away and placing them around his shoulders like an unspoken message—hold on to me. And you do.
Hyunjin picks up the pace, his breath turning ragged against your skin, and all you can do is cling to him, gasping, moaning, unraveling as his body claims yours with everything he has. There’s no space between you anymore, only heat, only movement, only the rush of him building toward the edge.
And when he finally lets go—when he gives you all of him, coming inside you and fill you full of him just like you asked—it feels like a vow, wordless and sacred. A promise sealed with every part of him. He collapses into you, your bodies tangled, breath shared. In that moment, he is wholly, completely yours. And you are his.
-
The bed is cold when you wake up.
The first thing you notice is the emptiness beside you—no warmth, no steady heartbeat to lull you back into sleep. Just rumpled sheets and the faint imprint of where he lay last night.
You blink against the light, slowly sitting up, the duvet clutched to your chest. It smells like him—something between fresh paint and fabric softener—and you breathe it in like it’ll bring him back. It only makes your heart ache a little more.
“Hyunjin?” you call out softly, voice rough from sleep and get no reply.
Your gaze lands on his sweater, half-draped at the edge of the bed. You reach for it, pulling it over your head, letting the sleeves hang long past your hands. It’s warm. It’s him. And somehow, it helps.
You slide out of the bed and walk through the apartment barefoot, your steps quiet. “Hyunjin?” you call again, a little louder this time and still no answer.
The silence makes the apartment feel unfamiliar like it doesn’t quite belong to either of you without him in it. You wander through the space, and your eyes land on the canvas—that one. The one covered by a white cloth. The one he said was a failure. You hesitate for only a second before stepping closer. Your fingers grip the edge of the fabric, and with one careful tug, you lift it. The breath catches in your throat. It’s… you.
A portrait. A figure rendered in soft colors and tender strokes. The way he’s painted you—it’s intimate, it’s raw. It’s real. Not just your features, but the way he sees you. The way he feels you. And he called this a failure?
Your fingertips trail lightly along the edge of the painting, your chest swelling with something deep and warm. He lied. Not because the painting wasn’t good, but because it meant too much to show. And the fact that he created this—that he thought of you like this—makes your heart ache in the most beautiful way.
Then you hear it—the click of a lock turning, the quiet creak of the front door opening. You turn just as Hyunjin steps inside, balancing two takeaway coffee cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other. His sweater hangs a little loose, and his hair is messy from the breeze outside. His eyes land on you in surprise.
“Hey—!”
You run to him, arms wrapping tightly around his torso, and he gasps as he tries to keep the coffee from spilling. His laugh is muffled against your hair as he shifts the cups to one hand.
“Careful,” he says through a breathless chuckle. “Or I have to go and buy coffee again.”
“You left me,” you say with a dramatic pout, burying your face into the soft fabric of his hoodie. “I woke up and you were gone.”
“I didn’t think I’d be long,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You were still asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”
You pull back just enough to meet his gaze—and then you kiss him. A soft, sleepy kiss, full of affection. When you pull away, there’s a smile playing at your lips. “Good morning.”
His own smile softens as he leans in again, placing a longer kiss on your lips, like he missed you in the hour he was gone. “Good morning,” he echoes. “Let’s have breakfast, mmh?”
And just like that, the day starts with him again. Just the way you like it.
-
You and Hyunjin settle onto the sofa, breakfast in your laps and a lazy, quiet comfort hanging in the air between you. The sun filters in through the windows, casting a soft glow over everything. He sits beside you, legs spread just enough for you to slide in closer. After finishing your pastry, you cradle your coffee cup between your hands, still warm and fragrant.
Without a word, you scoot closer to him, draping your legs over his lap and letting them rest comfortably between his. He glances at you, smiling softly, and you return it with one of your own.
“So,” you start, sipping your coffee slowly before turning to face him fully, “I saw the painting.”
His brows lift, amused, and a little sheepish. “You did?”
You nod, narrowing your eyes at him playfully. “You lied to me.”
Hyunjin huffs out a laugh. “I did say it was a failure.”
You jab a finger into his chest and grin. “It’s me.”
He tilts his head, playing along. “Do you like it?”
You set your coffee cup down on the table, then fold your arms and pout at him. “I don’t like it.”
He raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“I love it,” you say with a wide grin. “So much.”
He chuckles and shifts slightly to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “It’s not finished yet.”
You tilt your head up to look at him. “When are you going to finish it then?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
You pout again, exaggerated and dramatic. “Why not?”
He looks down at you, eyes soft and full of something you can’t quite name—something tender, something warm. “Why should I finish it,” he murmurs, “when I have the real one right here?”
You groan out loud, burying your face against his chest. “Ugh, you’re so cheesy.”
He laughs, a full, unguarded sound—and you can’t help but join him, laughing like everything in the world is just a little lighter when you’re together and maybe it is.
You set your coffee cup aside on the table, shifting on the couch so you can climb onto Hyunjin’s lap. He doesn’t protest—in fact, he opens his arms right away, welcoming you into them. You nestle into him, your knees framing his hips, and he takes a long sip of his coffee before placing his cup down as well. His arms wrap around you, holding you close, and you feel his chest rise and fall against yours.
You tilt your head and kiss his jaw, then press another soft one to his cheek. He turns to look at you, amused and already smiling when you gently grab his chin and turn his face toward you for a quick peck on the lips. Then you settle back into him, your head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck. His warmth surrounds you, his scent familiar, and when you glance up at him, something in your chest flutters.
“We should go on a date,” you murmur.
His thumb brushes along your cheek, soft and sweet. “Where do you want to go?” he asks.
You hum as you think. “Uhm... To your favorite place?”
He smirks, his hand playfully hovering on your inner thigh, intentionally brushing his knuckles against your clothed core. “My favorite place is right here.”
You gasp, laughing as you lightly slap his chest. “Hyunjin!”
He laughs too, that bright, boyish sound filling the room. “Just being honest here,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender.
You nod, your expression softening. “You know... somewhere that feels personal to you.”
Hyunjin leans in and places an affectionate kiss on your lips, lingering for a second before pulling back just enough to whisper, “I know a place.”
-
Hyunjin pats down the pockets of his jacket, doing a quick mental check—phone, wallet, keys and that thing in the inner pocket of his jacket. All good. He smooths down the front of his shirt and glances once at the mirror near the door, fixing his hair with his fingers before finally stepping out of his apartment.
He walks over to your door, heart thudding just a little faster than usual. It’s strange how it still feels like this with you—like he’s a teenager picking up his crush, not someone who spent the night tangled up in you.
Hyunjin knocks and when the door swings open, He blinks—once, then twice. You’re standing there, looking… breathtaking.
He lets out a soft, stunned laugh, eyes sweeping over your outfit. “Wow,” he says, leaning a shoulder against your doorframe. He says nothing else but his eyes endlessly admiring you.
You laugh, a little sheepish but so proud. “It’s our first date,” you simply point out.
Something tugs at Hyunjin’s chest at that. The honesty in your voice, the way you’re looking at him—it’s soft, real, and he’s suddenly so glad he gets to have this with you.
He grins, stepping closer. “You’re beautiful,” he says, meaning every word. Then, with a teasing glint in his eyes, “Maybe we should just cancel the whole plan.”
He nudges you playfully, pushing you back a step into your apartment, and you both burst into laughter. But before either of you can say more, he grabs your hand, warm and certain.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go make it a good first date.”
The quiet hush of the gallery wraps around you both like a blanket, softening the sounds of passing footsteps and hushed conversations. Hyunjin walks beside you with his hands tucked in his pockets, his gaze darting to you now and then—your curious eyes, the way you lean in just a little to read the small plaques beside the paintings. He’s not sure why his heart won’t stop doing these little flips, but he doesn’t want it to stop either.
Eventually, he stops in front of a painting. It’s large, vivid, a swirling composition of shadows and light that seem to breathe if you look long enough.
You pause with him, sensing something different in his stance, the way he exhales slowly. “This one?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
Hyunjin steps closer, moving behind you and gently resting his hands on your waist. He nods. “Yeah… this one.”
You both stand there in silence for a moment, staring at the canvas. And then, in that quiet space, he begins to speak.
“There was a time I used to come here almost every week,” he says softly. “I'd just stand here and look at it. For hours, sometimes. I didn’t even understand everything about it—I still don’t. But something about it made me feel… seen. Like it understood what I was going through even when I couldn’t say it out loud.”
You listen, still and patient, your fingers brushing lightly over his where they rest on your waist.
“When I couldn’t eat, when I was too tired to sleep, when I was too overwhelmed to paint… I came here. I used this painting to hold myself together.” His voice falters for a second. “But now when I look at it, all I feel is everything I tried to suppress. Exhaustion. Pressure. Loneliness.”
He pauses. You can feel the weight of the memories in his breath.
“I want to change that.”
He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out something small. A glint of silver and a soft charm catches the light as he holds it up—it’s the bracelet you once tried on absentmindedly at that jewelry shop weeks ago. You’d joked about him buying him for you and he hadn’t said anything then, just smiled.
Now, without a word, he gently slips it around your wrist and fastens the clasp.
“From now on,” he murmurs, “when I look at this painting, I’ll remember this moment instead. You. Us.”
You turn your head slightly to look at him, your eyes glistening with emotions you can’t quite name. Happiness. Sadness. Love. Grief. Hope. All tangled up into one beautiful ache.
“Thank you,” your voice breaking at the end of the sentence.
You kiss him, just a brush of lips—but it’s enough to make his breath catch. Then you take his hands and wrap them fully around your waist, holding them there like a promise.
“You’re not alone anymore,” you say gently. “I’m here. You have me now.”
Hyunjin looks at you like you’ve just handed him the sun and then he leans in and kisses you—not in a rush, not in desperation, but with everything he’s been carrying in his heart. Quiet gratitude. Relief. Love. It’s a kiss that says, I see you. I feel you. I’m yours.
And in that gallery, under the gaze of a painting that once held all his pain, he lets it all go—and chooses to remember this instead.
The kiss lingers long after it ends, warmth spreading through Hyunjin’s chest like a sunrise. He stays there for a beat longer, arms wrapped around you, your head resting against his shoulder as the painting stands silently before you—no longer a mirror of pain, but now a witness to something new.
Eventually, you both pull away, your fingers still tangled in his, your bracelet catching the light with every little movement.
Hyunjin glances down at it and smiles softly. “Ready to go?” he asks, brushing a thumb across your knuckles.
You nod. “Where to next?”
He pretends to think, lips twitching. “Somewhere with less staring eyes and more delicious food?”
You laugh, and the sound echoes faintly through the quiet halls of the gallery.
Hand in hand, you walk out together. The doors open, and sunlight spills across the marble floors, welcoming you into the rest of the day.
And as the two of you step into the light—your shoulders brushing, your smiles easy, your hearts just a little fuller than before—it feels like the beginning of something beautiful, something real and it's just getting started.
-
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Synopsis: Struggling to make ends meet as an art student, Hyunjin never expected his quiet neighbor to change everything. Rumored to be an adult content creator, you offer him a deal—help you with your content, and you’ll help with his financial troubles. What starts as a simple arrangement soon blurs into something more, pulling Hyunjin into a world he never imagined. (23,4k words)
Author's note: Forgot to mention this was a late bday fic for Hyunjin. Hope you enjoy it and pls leave a feedback ♡
The past week has been a blur of paint-stained hands and sleepless nights. Hyunjin barely has time to think about anything else, buried in preparations for his school's upcoming exhibition. His apartment is a mess—canvases stacked against the walls, discarded sketches littering the floor, and his camera resting untouched on his desk. For once, his world isn’t revolving around late-night shoots and Lustre content. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
His brush glides across the canvas, layering deep strokes of blue over the rough outline of a figure. He’s been obsessed with movement lately, trying to capture fleeting emotions in abstract shapes and colors. His professors say his work has soul—that it feels raw, intimate. But he wonders if they’d still say the same if they knew where his inspiration truly came from.
Hyunjin sighs and sets his brush down, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders. His eyes wander around his cluttered space, landing on an unfinished canvas propped up against the wall.
Your painting.
It’s a portrait, though he never intended it to be one. It started as a simple study—your figure bathed in warm light, the way your eyes softened when you were deep in thought. But then he kept coming back to it, adding layer after layer, unable to stop himself from trying to capture the quiet allure that had him tangled in knots.
Now, it’s only half-done. The outline of your face remains, delicate but unrefined. Your lips are sketched in, parted just slightly, as if caught mid-breath. Hyunjin swallows, gripping the brush tighter. He should be working on his exhibition piece, but his fingers itch to reach for this one instead.
It’s been days since he last saw you, yet here you are, lingering in the space between his thoughts.
-
The next day bleeds into the afternoon before Hyunjin even stirs awake. The weight of exhaustion still lingers in his limbs, his body aching from hours spent hunched over canvases and standing in front of easels. He barely remembers crashing onto his bed sometime in the early morning, the remnants of dried paint still on his fingers.
A sharp knock at the door pulls him from the haze of sleep. Hyunjin groans, pushing himself up with effort. The room is dim, sunlight seeping through the closed blinds, casting soft shadows over his cluttered space. Another knock follows, more insistent this time.
Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffles to the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before swinging it open. You're standing there, a warm smile curving your lips. The sight of you in the soft glow of the afternoon sun makes him blink twice, as if he isn’t sure whether he’s still dreaming.
“Wow, you look awful,” you tease, eyes flicking over his disheveled hair and the oversized shirt hanging off his frame. Before he can respond, you lift the paper bag in your hand. “Brought food. And coffee. Thought you might need it.”
Hyunjin stares at you for a moment, words catching in his throat. He wasn't expecting you—not today, not like this. But the scent of coffee and something delicious wafts toward him, grounding him in the moment. “…You didn’t have to,” he mumbles, voice still rough with sleep.
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Are you gonna let me in, or should I just eat this myself?”
The two of you sitting cross legged on his worn-out couch with take-out containers in hands. Hyunjin eats in slow bites, his body still shaking off the remnants of sleep. Next to him, you sit with your coffee in hand, fingers curled around the cup as you sip at it leisurely. He doesn’t think much of it at first—just you, keeping him company like you have before. But after a while, he notices it. The way your gaze lingers on him, thoughtful, as if you’re weighing something in your mind. You barely touch your food, just sipping at your coffee, lost in thought.
Hyunjin stops chewing, setting his chopsticks down. His brows furrow slightly as he studies you. “Do you have something to say to me?” he asks, tilting his head.
You blink, as if caught off guard, and glance down at your coffee. “No, not really,” you answer quickly, but there’s something in your tone—hesitation, uncertainty.
He doesn’t buy it. He puts down his chopsticks and looks at you. “Come on,” he presses gently. “You obviously have something to say. Just say it.”
You hesitate again, biting your lip as you lower your cup. For a moment, you seem to debate whether to speak at all. He watches you closely, his heart picking up its pace as you finally part your lips to speak.
“I was going to wait until after the exhibition to ask you this,” you begin, your fingers nervously tracing the rim of your coffee cup. “But… the thought of waiting has been making me uneasy.”
He stays quiet, letting you gather your words, his anticipation growing.
You take a deep breath and meet his gaze. “Now that you’ve paid off your debt… I was wondering if you still want to work with me. You know, help me with my content.”
Hyunjin gets a little taken aback. He expected something different, something more final—but this? He studies your face, the way your expression tightens with genuine worry, as if you’re afraid of what he might say. Instead of answering right away, he asks, “Why are you so worried that I’d stop?”
Your lips press together before you sigh. “Because it’s hard to find someone I can trust to do this with.” Your voice is softer now, more vulnerable. “And I trust you, Hyunjin.”
A strange fluttering feeling stirs in his chest at those words. Trust. You trust him.
You continue before he can respond, your words spilling faster as if you’re scared of what his answer might be. “I mean, obviously, you don’t have to say yes just because I asked, and if you want, we can negotiate the numbers—”
Hyunjin chuckles, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair. “Hey, slow down,” he says, amusement laced in his tone.
You shut your mouth quickly, looking embarrassed, aware that you were a second away from rambling on and on. Then, without hesitation, he gives you his answer. “Yes. I’ll continue working with you.”
The tension in your shoulders melts instantly. A smile blooms across your face, bright and relieved, and Hyunjin can’t help but stare for a moment, thinking to himself how effortlessly you light up a room.
The mood in the room shifts into something lighter, something comfortable after that talk. He sees that you can finally pick up your chopsticks and start eating, the sound of utensils clinking against the takeout containers filling the space between easy conversation.
“You really need to eat more proper meals,” you chide playfully as you watch him practically inhale the food.
He chuckles between bites. “I do eat properly,” he argues, though the evidence says otherwise.
Once the food is finished, Hyunjin gathers the trash and tosses it away, wiping his hands on a napkin. Meanwhile, you stand and wander around the room, eyes roaming over the canvases scattered throughout his workspace. Some lean against the walls, others rest on the floor, each one carrying a story in its strokes.
“These are for the exhibition?” you ask, tilting your head at one particular piece.
He nods, stepping beside you. “Yeah, I’m almost done with them. Just a few more details here and there.”
You take your time admiring each one, letting your fingers hover just above the dried paint as if you could feel the emotion embedded in them. Then, your gaze lands on a canvas tucked away in the corner, covered by a white cloth. Your curiosity sparks instantly. “What about that one?”
Hyunjin stiffens. His reaction is subtle, but you catch it.
“It’s nothing,” he says too quickly, stepping forward as if to block your view. “Just a failed one.”
You raise an eyebrow. “A failed one?”
“Yeah,” he lies smoothly, though his voice is just a little too even. “Didn’t turn out the way I wanted, so I scrapped it.”
You don’t push, but you do glance at the covered painting again, wondering what could possibly be underneath. Unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin swallows hard, keeping his expression neutral as he prays you don’t try to unveil it. Because hidden beneath that cloth is something he isn’t ready for you to see.
He shifts his focus back to you, watching your gaze lingers on the paintings, your fingers tracing the air just above the dried brushstrokes. The way you look at them—at his work—makes something warm settle in his chest.
“So,” he starts, hands tucking into the pockets of his sweatpants, “are you going to come to the exhibition?”
You turn to him, a playful glint in your eyes. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Hyunjin scoffs, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “So that’s a yes?”
You nod and with a soft smile, you say, “I’d be more than happy to come.”
Somehow, in the pause that follows, your eyes find his, and for a moment, neither of you look away. There’s something lingering in the air between you, something unspoken. Hyunjin wonders if you feel it too.
Then, after what feels like a beat too long, you break into a smile and glance toward the door. “I should probably go so you can work on your paintings.”
He barely manages to hide his disappointment. He wants you to stay. He likes having you here, in his space, talking to him like this. But he doesn’t say that. Instead, he nods, forcing himself to play it cool. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll see you later.”
You give him one last smile before heading for the door, and when it finally clicks shut behind you, Hyunjin exhales, running a hand through his hair. The room feels quieter now, a little emptier and he hates how much he wishes you had stayed.
-
As you step into your apartment, the air-conditioning greets your skin, a cool relief after your morning run. You set your phone down on the counter, make yourself a smoothie, and settle into your usual spot by the window. The city hums faintly outside, but inside, it’s quiet—just the way you like it in the mornings.
You take a sip of your smoothie and open Lustre, scrolling through notifications. A few messages from subscribers—some predictable, explicit ones—but one stands out.
mag.shawn
The profile picture is simple: a bunch of purple tulips. No face, no suggestive username. Curiosity piqued, you tap on the message.
"The more I see your pictures, the more convinced I am that you're not just beautiful from the outside, but on the inside too. I hope you have a lovely day, beautiful."
You take another second to reread the words. You’re used to messages from men, but they usually come with crude compliments, detailed fantasies, or straight-up requests. This, however, is just… sweet. A small smile tugs at your lips. You type a reply.
"Thank you, that’s really sweet of you. I hope you have a lovely day too."
After sending it, you lean back, taking another sip of your smoothie. It’s such a small thing—a simple message—but somehow, it lifts your mood. As you're about to have a sip of your smoothie, another notification comes and catches your eye.
Felix [Lustre]: Hey, do you want to meet up today?
Your fingers hover over the screen, hesitating. You knew this was coming—he had already reached out about a collaboration and texted you a few times talking about it—but something about it makes you pause. Maybe it's the uncertainty of working with someone new, or maybe it's the fact that Hyunjin's face flashed in your mind the second you read Felix’s message. You chew on your lip, tapping your nails against the glass of your smoothie. What should you say? Your screen stays lit, Felix’s message waiting for an answer.
-
You pull your car out of the parking lot, the engine humming softly as you ease onto the road. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, you spot Hyunjin walking along the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair is tied into a loose ponytail, his bag slung over his shoulder.
You slow down, rolling down the passenger-side window. “Hyunjin!” He looks up, surprised. “Need a lift?”
He stops on his track and then slightly bends down to look at you as he kindly refuses your offer. “It’s fine, I can take the bus.”
“At least let me drop you off at the bus stop.” You insist, offering him a look that says you won’t take no for an answer.
With a sigh, he caves in, pulling the door open and settling into the passenger seat. “Thanks.”
As you start driving, you glance at him. “So, where are you going?”
He nods, gazing out the window. “I’m heading to school to help set up the exhibition.”
You hum in response, but before you can say anything else, he shifts slightly in his seat and looks at you, noticing the way you're dressed. “How about you?”
Your grip tightens on the steering wheel for a second. You don’t know why you hesitate, but you do. Then, after a pause, you ask, “Do you remember Felix?”
Hyunjin’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “The creator who wants to collab with you?”
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I’m meeting him today.”
His gaze flickers to you before returning to the road ahead. “Does that means you’re doing the collab?”
Another hesitation. You wonder if it's a good idea to share when nothing is decided yet. Then, you exhale. “I’m still considering. I just want to meet him first, get to know him a little before deciding.”
He nods, but he doesn’t say anything. The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. As you focus on the road ahead, you don’t know why, but you feel like you told him something you shouldn't have shared.
When you finally pull up at the bus stop, Hyunjin unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door. Before stepping out, he turns to you with a small, polite smile. “Thanks for the ride.”
You nod, watching as he shuts the door behind him. As you drive away, you steal one last glance at the rearview mirror, catching sight of him standing there, hands back in his pockets, staring off at nothing in particular.
-
The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods lingering in the air as you step inside the café. You scan the room, searching for him, and it doesn’t take long before your eyes land on the person you're looking for.
Felix. He’s already there, sitting by the window with a cup of coffee in hand. The afternoon sun casts a glow over him, highlighting the soft waves of his long, bleached blonde hair. You knew he was good-looking from his pictures, but in person, he’s even more striking—sharp jawline, deep brown eyes, freckles dusted his cheeks and a natural pout to his lips. You get it now. You understand why he’s one of the most popular creators on Lustre.
But when he looks up and spots you, a smile breaks across his face—warm, inviting, nothing like the sultry, smoldering persona he portrays online. “Hey, glad you made it,” he greets, standing up to shake your hand. His voice is deep, laced with a natural rasp that takes you by surprise.
You nod, shaking his hand. “I hope I didn't make you wait too long.”
“Nah. Not at all,” he grins before gesturing to the seat across from him. “Please, have a seat. I already ordered for you—hope you don’t mind. I just figured a vanilla latte suits you.”
You blink at him, caught off guard by how effortlessly charming he is—not in an overbearing way, but in a way that makes you feel at ease. Sitting down, you take a glance at the drink he ordered for you, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s actually my go-to order.”
Felix chuckles, resting his chin on his palm. “Lucky guess. Or maybe I’m just good at reading people.”
The conversation flows easily between you and Felix as you sip on your coffee, talking about Lustre, content creation, and the experiences that come with it. He’s easy to talk to—engaging, charming without trying too hard, and surprisingly down-to-earth despite his popularity.
Eventually, curiosity gets the best of you, and you tilt your head slightly. “May I ask why you suddenly want to do a collab with me?”
Felix hums, stirring the remnants of his coffee with his straw. “Honestly? I’ve never done a collab before. I always worked solo, but then I saw the one you did with Sienna.” He leans back against his chair, a small grin tugging at his lips. “And I just thought… that looks fun.”
A smile tugging at your lips, slightly flustered. “Fun?”
He nods. “Yeah. The way you two work together, the chemistry—it felt natural, not forced. And I could tell you put a lot of effort into it, not just in front of the camera, but in the way everything was presented. It wasn’t just content; it was… artistic.”
His words catch you off guard, and you find yourself lowering your gaze, a hint of warmth creeping up your neck. Still, another question lingers in your mind. You glance at him again, hesitating only for a second before asking, “But why me? There are so many other creators on Lustre—some even more popular than I am. Why choose me?”
He doesn’t hesitate for a second to answer. “Because I like you.”
Your breath catches slightly, eyes widening at his direct answer. He seems to realize the weight of his words, quickly raising his hands with a sheepish chuckle. “I mean, I like your content—your artistry, your aesthetic. It’s different from the rest.”
But then, after a short pause, he tilts his head, a playful glint in his eyes. “Though… yeah, I guess I also just like you. You’re beautiful—it’s impossible not to like you.”
You feel your heart skip, caught between surprise and something else you can’t quite place. And from the way Felix watches you, as if amused by your reaction, you know he notices it too. As if you weren't flustered enough, he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you with quiet curiosity. “So, what do you think? About collabing with me?”
You let out a small breath, fingers idly tracing the rim of your coffee cup as you think of how to answer. Before you can, Felix speaks again.
“I honestly think this would work,” he says, his voice light but certain. “One, because I like your style—it’s different, and I think our aesthetics could blend well. Two, because I know how to bring out the best in my content partners.” He pauses for a second, a smirk playing on his lips. “And three… because I can already tell you and I have chemistry.”
His confidence is disarming, and you can’t help but smile at his words. He says it so naturally, like it’s a fact rather than a guess.
Still, you take a moment before answering, meeting his gaze. “I only collaborate with people I trust.”
He studies you for a moment, then nods in understanding, his expression softening. “I get that,” he says. “Trust is important in this line of work. I’d probably be the same way if I were you.”
You expect him to push further, but instead, he leans back, completely relaxed. “I just hope you’re not completely closed off to the idea.” His eyes meet yours again, sincere and patient. “Take as much time as you need. And when you’re ready, give me a call.”
The weight in his words lingers between you, an unspoken promise that he won’t rush you into anything and for some reason, that makes it harder to look away.
Being a gentleman that he is, Felix insists on walking you toward your car, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, his steps unhurried like he has all the time in the world. The late afternoon sun casts a soft glow on his blond hair, making him look even more ethereal than he already does.
When you reach your car, he turns to you with an easy smile. “I really hope we get to do this collab,” he says, his voice gentle but firm.
You raise a brow at him, smirking. “No pressure, huh?”
He chuckles, tilting his head slightly. “None at all. Just putting it out there.”
There’s something about the way he looks at you—warm, expectant, and just a little mischievous—that makes your chest feel light. You unlock your car, and before you can reach for the door, Felix beats you to it, pulling it open like a perfect gentleman. “Here,” he gestures, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Allow me.”
You laugh softly but step inside, settling into the driver’s seat. As you adjust your grip on the wheel, Felix leans down, resting his arm on the top of your car, his gaze meeting yours through the open window. His usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced by something more serious—more intense.
“Whether there'll be a collab or not, please give me a call.” His voice is deeper and lower now, smoother, and for a brief second, it feels like he’s asking for something much more than just a call.
Your fingers tighten on the steering wheel as your heart does a tiny, unexpected flip. And then, just like that, he steps back, flashing you one last, heart-melting smile.
You drive away, glancing once in the rearview mirror to see him standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you leave. By the time you turn the corner, you realize that you’re smiling too.
-
The gallery is alive with murmurs of appreciation, soft footsteps against polished floors, and the occasional clinking of glasses from the refreshment table. Hyunjin should be basking in the compliments, engaging in conversations with professors and fellow artists, but his mind is elsewhere. He glances toward the entrance again, pretending to survey the crowd, but really, he’s just looking for you.
The anticipation coils tight in his chest. He’s not even sure why. Maybe because you promised you’d come. Maybe because you looked at him that way—the way that made him feel like he was someone worth looking at. He shifts his weight, nodding along to a professor’s comment about his brushwork, but his thoughts are elsewhere. You’ll come. You said you would.
Hyunjin excuses himself, turning around on his feet and about to check his phone when he hears your voice.
"Hey."
He turns to the side, and there you are, standing by the entrance, holding a bouquet of flowers. His breath catches for a second—maybe from surprise, maybe from something else—but he quickly recovers, walking toward you.
"You're here," he says, relief evident in his voice.
You flash him a grin and hold out the bouquet. "These are from Sienna. She wanted to congratulate you but couldn’t make it."
Still smiling, he gestures toward the gallery. "Come on, let me give you the grand tour."
As the two of you walk through the exhibition, Hyunjin explains his paintings to you, his voice softer than usual. He doesn’t even realize how closely you’re listening, how intently you’re watching him as he talks. But when he finally meets your gaze, something about the way you’re looking at him makes his heart race.
Just as Hyunjin is about to say something else, a voice cuts in.
"Hyunjin, I didn't know you have a girlfriend."
Hyunjin turns to see Edgar approaching, one of his classmates and a fellow artist in the exhibition. Edgar's gaze flickers between the two of you, curiosity evident in his expression.
"This is not my—" Hyunjin clears his throat and then gestures toward you. "She’s my neighbor and a... friend of mine."
You briefly glance at Hyunjin before offer a polite smile and extend your hand at Edgar. "Nice to meet you."
Edgar takes your hand with an easy grin. "Nice to meet you too. You a fan of Hyunjin’s work?"
You glance at Hyunjin playfully before nodding. "Yeah, you could say that."
Before Edgar can respond, Hyunjin hears his name being called from across the room. His professor waves him over, motioning for him to come quickly. He exhales sharply, hating the timing.
"I have to take care of something," he tells you, regret in his tone. He looks at Edgar. "Hey, can you take over for me? Show her the rest of the exhibition?"
Edgar nods easily. "Yeah, with pleasure."
He looks at you one last time with a gentle smile on his face. "I’ll be back soon, okay?"
You nod with a reassuring smile. "Go, do your thing. I’ll be fine."
Still, as he walks away, Hyunjin can't shake the feeling of guilt for leaving you behind.
His professor had kept him occupied longer than expected, and now that he’s free, his first instinct is to find you. He immediately scans the room, searching for you amidst the crowd.
When his eyes land on you, he stops in his tracks. You’re still with Edgar, standing near one of the paintings, laughing at something he just said. There’s an easygoing warmth in your expression, the kind that makes it obvious you’re enjoying the conversation. Edgar, on the other hand, is leaning slightly toward you, a smug grin on his face like he’s proud of making you laugh.
Hyunjin doesn’t know why it bothers him, but it does. It’s not like you’re his. He has no right to feel like this. And yet, the longer he watches, the stronger the irrational urge becomes—to interrupt, to pull you away, to remind you that you came here for him, not Edgar. Before he can talk himself out of it, he makes his way over.
“Hey,” he says, slipping into the conversation as casually as he can manage. His eyes flicker between you and Edgar, but his focus lingers on you. “Having fun?”
You turn to him with a bright smile. “Yeah, Edgar’s been telling me all kinds of stories about you.”
Hyunjin narrows his eyes at Edgar, who only smirks in response. “Oh yeah?” Hyunjin crosses his arms. “What exactly have you been saying?”
Edgar chuckles. “Just a few fun facts.” He glances at you with a teasing look. “Your friend here thinks you’re impressive.”
Hyunjin feels his heartbeat pick up at that, but he masks it with a scoff. “Yeah, well, I hope you weren’t exaggerating.”
Edgar waves him off and then turns to you with a grin. "So, what do you say? A drink after this? A little celebration for Hyunjin’s big night?"
You blink in surprise, then glance at Hyunjin, who suddenly looks like he wasn’t expecting this either. A smirk tugs at your lips as you tease, “Oh? Hyunjin never mentioned anything about drinks.”
Edgar crosses his arms together and chuckles. “That’s because I just came up with it. But come on, it’ll be fun.”
You shake your head, smiling politely. "I appreciate the invite, but I think I’ll have to pass this time."
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, but you notice the way his posture subtly shifts, like he’s relieved. Taking the opportunity, you turn to him. “Speaking of leaving, I should probably get going.”
His expression falters slightly, just for a second, but he quickly recovers. “Oh… already?”
You nod, offering him a warm smile. “Yeah, but congratulations again. The exhibition is amazing, and I’m really proud of you.”
Something flickers in Hyunjin’s eyes at your words, but before he can say anything, you take a small step back. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
He nods, and just as you turn to leave, Edgar playfully nudges Hyunjin. “Damn, man. You didn’t even try to convince her to stay.”
Hyunjin ignores him, watching as you disappear into the crowd. And as much as he wishes you had stayed just a little longer, he holds on to your words—letting them replay in his head, over and over again.
-
You take a sip of your iced coffee as you scroll through your Lustre notifications. Most of them are the usual—likes, tips, and messages ranging from sweet to outright explicit but one message catches your attention. The one user with the purple tulips picture on his profile. You open it, your curiosity piqued.
mag.shawn: “I really liked your new photos. The silk dress suits you beautifully, but what suits you best is the smile on your face.”
You pause for a moment, rereading the message. It’s simple, kind, and—like before—different from the usual messages you receive. There’s something almost personal about it, like he actually sees you beyond just the photos. You type out a quick reply.
"Thank you! That’s really sweet of you to say. I’m glad you liked the photos. Hope you’re having a good day, sweet baby!"
Hearing the knocking on your door, you set your phone down and walk to the door to open it. You don't have to check to know that it's Hyunjin. You step aside to let him into your apartment, he walks in without hesitation, setting his bag down near the couch.
“Want to have a drink first?” you offer because he seems like he's just ran from his art school in a rush.
He uses the hair tie he carries around in his wrist to tie his hair into a low ponytail. “Maybe later. We have a lot to do now.”
The two of you don’t waste time, moving around in quiet understanding as you begin rearranging one of the spare rooms to turn it into a proper photo studio. You adjust the lighting, shift furniture, and clear out unnecessary clutter while Hyunjin sets up his camera equipment, occasionally checking the angles and backdrop.
The silence is comfortable, but after a while, you feel the weight of something unsaid pressing on your chest. You take a deep breath and break it.
“Hey…” You glance at Hyunjin, who is adjusting his camera settings. He hums in response, looking up.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay long at your exhibition,” you say softly, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve.
He straightens up and calmly responds. “It’s alright.” But then, after a beat, he tilts his head and asks, “Why, though?”
You hesitate, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s just… safer that way,” you finally say, your voice quieter. “I don’t want to risk getting recognized by people.” You lower your gaze, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”
Hyunjin frowns slightly. “Embarrass me how?”
You let out a small, breathy chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “For being... with me. For being associated with what I do.”
He shakes his head, almost scoffing. “I don’t care about all that stuff.”
“Yeah,” You lift your gaze to him and, without thinking, murmur, “But other people do.”
Hyunjin falls silent at that. His expression shifts—like he wants to argue, to tell you that it doesn’t matter what others think. But deep down, you both know that’s not entirely true.
The room stays quiet for a moment before you clear your throat, forcing a smile. “Anyway, I'll get the cake.”
He watches you as you get up from the floor and walk out of the room but the weight of your words lingers between you both.
The concept for today is simple—just you against the clean, white backdrop, playing with food as a prop. The first choice is a small, frosted cake, one that you picked up specifically for this shoot. You sit on the floor with the cake in front of you, dressed in a soft, pastel-colored outfit that contrasts nicely against the backdrop.
Hyunjin lifts his camera, adjusting the focus. “Are you ready?”
You give him a thumbs-up. “I'm ready.”
The second he aims the camera at you, you dip a finger into the frosting, bringing it to your lips with a playful smirk. The camera clicks. You swipe a bit of frosting onto your cheek, pouting dramatically, and Hyunjin chuckles before snapping another shot.
"Try smearing some on your lips,” he suggests, his voice more focused now.
You do as he says, dabbing frosting on your bottom lip before licking it off slowly. The camera clicks again.
“Perfect,” he mutters while keeping his focus on getting good shots.
The shoot continues like this—innocent yet teasing, fun but undeniably intimate. You pretend to feed an imaginary person, tilt your head back with a bite of cake on your tongue, even press a bit of frosting onto your collarbone. Each time, Hyunjin captures the moment with an artist’s precision, his eyes trained on you through the lens.
But at some point, you glance up at him, and for the briefest moment, your eyes meet—not through the camera, but directly. There’s something unreadable in his gaze, something that makes your stomach flutter. You quickly look away, dipping your fingers back into the frosting, pretending you didn’t notice the way Hyunjin swallowed hard before lifting the camera again.
As the shoot winds down, you stretch your arms above your head and let out a content sigh. “That was fun,” you say, glancing at the mess you made. There’s frosting smeared on your fingers, your face, on your chest and you’re sure there’s some in your hair too.
He lowers his camera and looks at you, his lips pressing together as if he’s holding back a smile. “Yeah, fun for you,” he mutters. “I have to clean all this up.”
You grin, swiping a bit more frosting onto your cheek just to be annoying. “Well, you’re the photographer. That’s part of your job, isn’t it?”
Hyunjin sighs, shaking his head, but he grabs a cloth and steps closer. “You’re impossible.”
The warmth of his fingers ghosts over your skin as he wipes the icing from your cheek first, his touch careful and lingering longer than necessary. You stay still, watching him through your lashes as he works his way down—your jaw, the curve of your neck, the dip of your collarbone. His movements are slow, deliberate, and you can’t help but tease him.
“You sure this isn’t part of your job description too?” you murmur, tilting your head slightly.
He briefly stops moving, his eyes flicking to yours. There’s something in his gaze—something warm, something restrained. But then he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he moves to clean the frosting from your hair. “And you have to pay me extra for it.”
You laugh softly, letting him continue. But there’s no denying the shift in the air, the tension settling between you both as his fingers linger just a little too long. Even after he wipes most of the frosting with wet wipes, you feel the remnants of sugar still clinging to your skin. "I need a shower," you announce, already heading toward the bathroom. "Order dinner while I'm in there. Get whatever you want."
Hyunjin, now cleaning the mess on the floor, nods absentmindedly. "Got it."
The sound of running water fills the bathroom as you step inside, letting the warmth wash away the sticky remnants of the shoot. The sweet scent of frosting lingers on your skin, but soon it’s replaced by the familiar comfort of your body wash. You’re halfway through rinsing your hair when you faintly hear Hyunjin’s voice outside the door.
"Hey—what do you want to drink?"
You blink through the water running down your face, unable to make out his words clearly. "What?"
"I said—" His voice comes again, a little louder this time, but still muffled by the sound of the shower.
Sighing, you shake your head. "Just come inside, I can't hear you!"
There’s a pause. A long one. Then, the door creaks open hesitantly. "I'm—uh—I'm coming in," He mumbles, clearly uncomfortable.
You smirk to yourself, picturing the way he must be avoiding looking anywhere but straight ahead. "Relax, it's not like you haven't seen me naked before."
He scoffs but doesn't comment. "I was asking what you want to drink," he says stiffly, keeping his gaze locked on the tiled floor as he stands awkwardly by the sink.
Still grinning to yourself, you peek your head out from behind the shower curtain, water dripping down your face. "Just get me iced tea or something," you say casually.
He glances at you for only a second—before his eyes go wide, and he quickly looks away, his ears turning pink. "Okay—iced tea. Got it."
Before you can tease him further, he spins on his heel and nearly stumbles out of the bathroom, shutting the door a little too quickly behind him. Laughing to yourself, you shake your head and return to your shower, amused at how flustered he still gets around you.
-
Steam clings to your skin as you step out of the bathroom, your hair damp and dripping onto the collar of your bathrobe. The scent of warm food fills your apartment, making your stomach growl. You pad barefoot toward the kitchen, finding Hyunjin setting out containers of takeout, his sleeves pushed up as he arranges everything neatly. Without hesitation, you reach over and snatch a crispy fry from the plate.
"Hey!" He glares at you, swatting at your hand too late. "At least get dressed first!"
You grin as you pop the fry into your mouth. "Why? Does it bother you?" you tease, clutching your robe loosely around you.
He huffs, narrowing his eyes. "No. It’s just basic hygiene. Also, your hair is dripping everywhere."
You glance down, noticing a few stray droplets landing on the table. Shrugging, you steal another fry. "Guess I'll have to eat fast before I make a mess, then."
He groans, grabbing a napkin and pressing it into your hand. "Go. Dry off, get dressed, and then you can eat like a normal person."
You roll your eyes but turn on your heel, waving a hand as you walk away. "Ugh, okay, fine. But don't eat all the fries before I get back."
The two of you sit across from each other at the small dining table, the scent of fried food and warm rice filling the space between you. With your hair still wrapped in towel, you twirl your chopsticks absentmindedly, picking at your food while Hyunjin quietly eats. The atmosphere is comfortable, a peaceful kind of quiet settling between you both—until he suddenly speaks up.
"So…" He pauses, looking down at his plate before glancing up at you. "How did your meeting with Felix go?"
You stop mid-bite, not expecting him to bring it up. "It went fine," you answer, chewing slowly.
He nods, as if contemplating your answer, before continuing, "And what do you think of the guy?"
You shrug, poking at a piece of chicken. "He's nice."
He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to say more. When you don’t, he asks, "So, have you decided? Are you going to collab with him?"
You let out a small sigh, setting your chopsticks down. "I don’t know. I mean, he’s great—charming, professional, all that. But…" You hesitate, searching for the right words. "I’m not fully sure about it yet."
He stays quiet, nodding slowly but a while later, his gaze flickers to you. "Why not?"
You purse your lips, unsure of how to explain it. "I guess… I just don’t jump into things like this. I like to trust the person I work with, and trust takes time, you know?"
He hums in response, stabbing a piece of food with his chopsticks. "Yeah. Makes sense."
As you and Hyunjin clean up after dinner, the rhythmic clinking of dishes and running water fills the room. You pass him a plate to dry, your fingers brushing for a fleeting second before you turn back to the sink. You thought that Hyunjin has dropped the conversation until, out of nowhere, he speaks up. "If you're still considering," he starts, voice casual but careful, "then maybe you should do a test shoot with him."
You glance at him, surprised. "A test shoot?"
Hyunjin nods, keeping his eyes on the dish he’s drying. "Yeah. Just to see if you really have the chemistry. That way, you don’t have to commit right away, and it’ll help you decide."
You lean against the counter, thinking. "I never thought about that…"
"It makes sense, right?" He finally looks at you, his expression neutral, but there’s something in his eyes—something unreadable. "If it works, great. If not, then you won’t waste your time."
You chew on the inside of your cheek, mulling over his words. He has a point. And yet, something about him bringing it up makes you hesitate. "You think I should do it?"
He nonchalantly shrugs. "It’s just a suggestion."
You study him for a moment, trying to gauge what he's really thinking. But his face gives nothing away. Instead of pressing, you nod slowly, wiping your damp hands on a dish towel. "Maybe I will."
The night continues with the two of you settling onto the couch with cans of drinks in hands, checking the result of today's photoshoot. Your laptop balanced between you, the soft glow of the screen lights up your faces as you scroll through the photos. Some shots capture the playful chaos—the smears of icing on your skin, the mischievous glint in your eyes—while others are more poised, effortlessly seductive in a way that even surprises you.
"You did a great job," you say, nudging Hyunjin lightly with your elbow. "They all look amazing."
He hums in acknowledgment, his gaze fixed on the screen. "You made it easy."
A pleased smile tugs at your lips, and as you keep scrolling, a random thought pops into your head. "The cake was delicious by the way. Should stick to that bakery shop." You glance at him. "Which reminds me—what kind do you want for your birthday?"
He freezes for half a second before slowly turning his head to look at you, eyes narrowing. "How do you know when my birthday is?"
You grin sheepishly, caught red-handed. "Uh… I may have accidentally found out when I was at your apartment. Your mail was just sitting there, and I—"
"You went through my mail?" He squints at you, but there’s no real anger in his voice.
"Not on purpose!" you defend yourself, hands up in surrender. "It was just there, and I happened to see it. That’s how I know your birthday is next Friday."
He leans back against the couch, his legs parting apart. "Well, don’t get any ideas. There will be no cake."
You nod dramatically, pressing your lips together in mock seriousness. "No cake. Got it."
But then he narrows his eyes at you again, like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head. "And no gift either."
You gasp and then frown. "No gift? At all?"
"None," he confirms.
You pout, crossing your arms. "How come you don't want anything for your birthday?"
"Because I just don’t," he replies simply, as if that’s enough explanation. "And before you ask, no party either. No surprises, no celebrations, nothing."
You lean back against the couch, tilting your head as you study Hyunjin’s expression. He’s still watching the laptop screen, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe, or hesitation.
With a playful smirk, you decide to test him. "Okay, no cake, no gift, no party," you repeat. "But what if…" You pause, letting the anticipation build before continuing, "what if I was the gift?"
Hyunjin’s entire body stiffens. His eyes widen slightly, and he finally looks at you, clearly caught off guard. "Huh? What?"
You bite back a laugh at how flustered he looks, his ears already turning red. "I mean, if you won’t accept a present, maybe I could be the present," you tease, tilting your head. "Would you accept that?"
Hyunjin blinks rapidly, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to come up with a logical response, but failing miserably.
You scoot a little closer, watching his reaction with amusement. "What’s wrong? You look nervous."
"I’m not," he mutters, but his voice betrays him.
You chuckle. "You’re totally flustered right now."
"I—" Hyunjin abruptly stands up from the couch, nearly knocking over the laptop in his rush. "It’s, uh—getting late. I should go."
You laugh, watching as he practically scrambles to gather his things. "So that’s a no on accepting me as your gift?"
He shoots you a glare, but it’s weak at best, his face still slightly pink. "Goodnight."
With that, he heads straight for the door, leaving you grinning to yourself as you hear it click shut behind him.
-
You sit in your parked car, drumming your fingers lightly on the steering wheel as you wait for Hyunjin to be done with his class. With nothing else to do, you pull out your phone and open Lustre, skimming through notifications until a new message catches your eye.
mag.shawn: "I’m a little nervous today. I’m meeting someone, and I don’t know how it’ll go. But anyway, I just wanted to say I hope you’re having a lovely day."
You smile softly, touched by his honesty. Without thinking too much, you type out a response.
"I’m sure it’ll go well! Just be yourself, and everything will fall into place. Wishing you the best of luck, and hope you have a lovely day too!"
Just as you send the message, a sudden knock on your window makes you jump. You turn to see Edgar grinning at you through the glass. With a sigh, you roll down the window. "Please don't sneak up on people like that."
Edgar chuckles, resting his arms on the top of your car door. "Sorry, couldn't help myself." He tilts his head. "Waiting for Hyunjin?"
"Yeah," you reply, glancing past him as if you might spot Hyunjin approaching.
"Perfect timing, then," Edgar says, leaning in slightly. "Did you know it's his birthday this Friday?"
You nod. "I do, actually."
His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. "Oh? He told you?"
"Not exactly," you admit. "I found out by accident."
Edgar laughs. "Figures. He’s not the type to bring it up." Then, as if suddenly remembering, he adds, "A few of us are taking him out for drinks that night. Just something chill, nothing crazy. You should come."
You blink at the unexpected invitation. "I—"
"It’s at The Blue Moon, around nine," he continues, not giving you a chance to refuse. "No pressure, but I think he’d be happy if you showed up."
You hesitate for a moment before nodding. "I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try."
"That’s good enough for me," Edgar says, pushing away from your car just as you spot Hyunjin walking toward you.
Edgar gives you one last wink before stepping away, leaving you with a strange feeling as Hyunjin approaches and slides into the passenger seat.
Hyunjin glances toward Edgar, then at you. "What did he want?"
You start the engine, glancing at him with a small smile. "Nothing much."
Hyunjin tosses his backpack to the backseat of the car before putting the safety belt on. “So, where are we meeting him?”
You turn the car engine on and it roars to life. “It’s at this hotel not far from here,” you answer, showing him the route on the GPS.
-
The elevator dings as you and Hyunjin step into the dimly lit hallway of the hotel, the plush carpet muffling your footsteps. Room 716—you stop in front of the door and knock twice.
Within seconds, the door swings open, revealing Felix on the other side. His warm smile is the first thing you notice, followed by the familiar brightness in his honey-brown eyes. His long bleached-blond hair is tied back loosely, a few strands framing his sharp yet inviting features.
"Hey, you made it," he greets, pulling you into a brief but firm hug that smells like vanilla and something subtly musky.
"Of course," you reply, pulling back with a small smile. You turn slightly to gesture to Hyunjin. "And this is Hyunjin—my photographer. He’s the man behind all those amazing photos."
Felix’s eyes flicker to Hyunjin, and he extends a hand. "Nice to finally meet you. Your work is incredible."
Hyunjin shakes his hand but remains quiet, only offering a polite nod. You can tell he’s reserved, but you’re not sure if it’s because he’s just naturally like that or because of the situation.
You clear your throat and turn back to Felix. "So, I just want to make it clear—this is a test shoot. Just to see how well we work together, how the chemistry flows. No pressure."
Felix’s lips curve into a confident smile, his gaze holding yours as he playfully responds, "Oh, I don't feel pressured at all."
His words hang in the air for a second longer than necessary, and you glance at Hyunjin, who remains expressionless, his camera bag slung over his shoulder. Something about this moment makes your stomach flutter—but whether it’s excitement or nerves, you can’t quite tell.
The soft click of Hyunjin’s camera echoes through the hotel room as you and Felix stand near the edge of the bed, facing each other under the warm glow of the studio light he set up.
Felix shifts beside you, then pauses, tilting his head. “Is it okay if I touch you?” His voice is gentle, respectful, his dark eyes searching yours for permission.
You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
With that, Felix lifts his hand, fingertips grazing your wrist before sliding up to your elbow, guiding you subtly closer. The two of you hold the pose, looking into each other’s eyes and he looks at you in a way that makes you feel nervous that you can’t help the way your lips twitch, and after a few seconds, you burst into laughter, flustered.
“Sorry, sorry!” you gasp, covering your mouth as you glance at Hyunjin, who lowers his camera slightly, his expression unreadable.
Felix chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re cute when you get flustered.”
The photoshoot continues, Felix adjusting his stance, letting his touches remain light and respectful—a hand on your waist, fingers grazing your jaw as if to brush imaginary strands of hair away. Hyunjin keeps clicking, staying quiet as he captures each moment.
Between shots, Felix leans in, his voice just above a whisper. “You have the prettiest smile,” he murmurs.
You blush, biting your lip as you try to hold your pose.
Another click of the camera. “Your skin is so soft.”
You giggle, shaking your head slightly as the warmth in your cheeks deepens. Felix just grins, enjoying your reaction. The camera keeps clicking, capturing every moment—but you can’t help but wonder what’s going through Hyunjin’s mind right now.
“That’s enough for now,” Hyunjin suddenly announces, lowering the camera from his face. His voice is steady, but something in his chest feels tight, like he’s been holding his breath for too long.
You turn to look at him, blinking as if pulled from a daze, while Felix exhales a soft hum, tilting his head in thought.
“Actually,” Felix says, still holding onto your waist, “Can we try one more thing?”
Before you can ask, Felix glances down at you, his eyes glinting with mischief. “How about a kiss?”
-
The camera in his hands acts as a barrier, separating him from the scene unfolding in front of him. But it doesn't stop him from seeing everything—the way Felix holds you so effortlessly, the way you laugh when Felix murmurs something in your ear, the way your body relaxes against his touch.
Hyunjin isn’t sure why he’s noticing these things. He shouldn’t be. But as he adjusts the focus, framing the next shot, he can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t belong here—like he’s intruding on something intimate, something that doesn’t need a spectator.
It’s ridiculous. He’s here for work. Nothing else. Still, he feels like a third wheel.
Felix and you—you make sense together. Felix is confident, charming, a natural in front of the camera. He knows how to play up the chemistry, how to draw reactions from you that look effortlessly beautiful through the lens.
Hyunjin, on the other hand—he’s just behind the camera. A quiet observer.
And when Felix suddenly suggests a kiss, the thought cements itself deep in his stomach.
Hyunjin stills and you freeze, eyes widening as you pull back slightly. “What?”
“A kiss,” Felix repeats, like he’s merely suggesting a new camera angle. “Just a light one. I think it would look great in the photos. Plus—” he smirks now, “—it's how we know for sure if we have that chemistry.”
Hyunjin swallows hard, fingers twitching over the shutter button on the camera. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much—the way Felix is looking at you, the casual way he suggests kissing you, as if it’s nothing more than another pose to try.
You, on the other hand, look completely flustered. “I—” You glance at Hyunjin for a fraction of a second before looking back at Felix, hesitating.
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything. He just waits. And after a moment of silence, you crack a sheepish laugh and nod.
You and Felix are now sitting on the end of the bed and Hyunjin presses record. The camera’s screen frames the moment perfectly—too perfectly. Felix starts slow, his fingers tucking every stray strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that makes Hyunjin’s stomach knot. Then, Felix’s hands cradle your jaw, his thumbs brushing lightly over your cheekbones.
“You’re comfortable, right?” Felix murmurs, his voice so soft that the mic barely picks it up. He doesn’t move forward just yet, just holds you like he has all the time in the world. “You can stop me whenever, yeah?”
You nod, swallowing.
Felix smiles—gentle, reassuring. “You have such beautiful eyes.” Then, he tilts forward—but not toward your lips. Instead, he kisses the corner of your eye.
Hyunjin remains calm but his grip tightens on the camera. The way you suck in a sharp breath, your lashes fluttering at the unexpected touch—it’s too much to watch through the lens. But before you can react, Felix does it again, placing a kiss on the other eye.
The moment is intimate, more than Hyunjin expected. And yet, his hands don’t lower the camera. And then—before you can process it—Felix finally presses his lips to your slightly parted mouth. It’s gentle at first. Barely there. Just the soft press of his lips against yours, his hands steady on your face as if holding something delicate. Hyunjin feels something crawl up his throat as he keeps his hands steady.
Felix pulls back, searching your gaze. “Can I continue?” he asks, voice quieter now.
You blink up at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted. And then—you nod.
Hyunjin swears he sees the exact moment Felix’s expression changes—from gentle to something else entirely. Because this time, when Felix kisses you again, it’s deeper. More insistent. He watches—forced to watch—as the kiss grows, slow and unhurried, but still more intense with every second.
Felix tilts his head, his fingers slipping down to your neck, pressing you closer. Your hands finally move, fingers clutching at his sleeves.
Hyunjin doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until the burning in his chest forces him to exhale and for the first time since picking up a camera, he wishes he wasn’t here. He clears his throat. Loud enough. Sharp enough. Enough to cut through whatever moment was unfolding between you and Felix.
“That’s enough,” he says, his voice flat, carefully void of emotion. He lowers the camera, stopping the recording. “I got what we needed.”
But Felix—he doesn’t let go. Instead, he keeps his hands steady on you, his thumbs absently brushing the skin of your jaw. His gaze lingers on your lips, like he’s not ready to pull away just yet. Then, finally, a slow grin spreads across his face.
“You’re a good kisser,” he muses, his voice low, filled with something teasing but also… something else.
It takes you a second to react, like you’re only just registering what happened. Your eyes widen and warmth spreads across your face.
Felix chuckles at your flustered expression, his hands finally releasing you. “You okay?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone.
Despite still dazed, still feeling the ghost of his lips on yours, you nod. You scoot to the edge of the bed, walking toward Hyunjin.
“Can I take a quick look on the photos?”
The three of you sit together on the sofa, scrolling through the shots and the video, the room quiet except for the occasional click of Hyunjin’s camera as he reviews the footage.
Felix leans in slightly, his shoulder brushing against yours. Then, softly, just for you to hear, he mutters, “Told you. We have chemistry.”
You glance at him, catching the smirk playing on his lips. It’s confident—almost knowing. You exhale a small laugh, shaking your head, but you don’t deny it.
Felix leans back, stretching. “So, how about I treat you both dinner? My way of saying thanks.”
You smile but shake your head. “I appreciate it, but we should get going.”
Felix pouts dramatically. “Not even a quick bite?”
“I’ll take a rain check,” you say. “Besides, you have another shoot, right?”
Felix sighs, pretending to be put out, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Work never stops.”
You stand, and Felix follows suit. Before you leave, he pulls you into a quick, warm hug, his arms squeezing lightly around your shoulders.
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” he murmurs.
You smile. “I’ll think about it.”
Felix tugs at your elbow and says, “Any kind of call.”
You smile as you step back, and as you turn toward the door, Hyunjin—who had remained noticeably quiet—only gives Felix a brief, wordless nod before heading out.
During the car ride home, Hyunjin keeps his eyes on the road ahead, but his mind is elsewhere. He glances at you briefly before saying, “I have to admit, I was a little surprised you turned down the dinner.”
You smirk, keeping your eyes on the road. “Oh? Are you disappointed?”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “No. Just… surprised.”
“Well, if you want, I can buy you dinner instead,” you offer, sparing him a quick glance. “But I can’t tonight. I have somewhere to be.”
That piques his curiosity. He tilts his head slightly. “Where?”
You only smile mysteriously. “That’s a secret.”
Hyunjin narrows his eyes at you, watching as you pull up in front of the apartment building. Before he can ask again, you unlock the doors, silently telling him to get out. He hesitates for a second, still wondering where you’re going, but he knows you won’t tell him even if he asks. With a sigh, he steps out of the car and carries his backpack in hand.
“See you later,” you playfully say to him just before he shuts the car door
As you drive away, Hyunjin stands there, hands in his pockets, watching your car disappear down the street and he can’t help but wonder.
-
Hyunjin has never liked celebrating his birthday. It’s not that he hates it—it’s just another day to him, one that he doesn’t see the need to make a big deal out of. Growing up, birthdays were quiet affairs, just a simple meal with his family, sometimes a cake if his mom had the time. Now that he’s older, he prefers to let the day pass without much attention. No parties, no gifts, no unnecessary fuss.
So when his class ends and he slings his bag over his shoulder, he’s already planning a quiet evening—maybe sketching, maybe watching something mindless until he falls asleep.
But as soon as he turns the corner, Edgar is waiting for him, grinning like he’s up to something. “There you are! Come on, we’re heading out.”
Hyunjin tightens his grip on the strap of his backpack. “Heading where?”
Before he can take a step back, Edgar throws an arm around his shoulders, steering him toward the exit. Two more of their friends appear, flanking him on either side like bodyguards.
“The bar, of course!” one of them chimes in.
Hyunjin groans, knowing well what Edgar planned for him. “I didn’t say I was going—”
“Too bad,” Edgar cuts him off. “We’re celebrating your birthday, and you don’t get a say in it.”
Hyunjin sighs, already regretting not taking a different route out of the building. “You guys planned this?”
“Obviously,” Edgar says, rolling his eyes. “Did you really think we’d let your birthday pass without doing anything?”
That’s exactly what Hyunjin had hoped for. But seeing the determined looks on his friends’ faces, he knows there’s no escaping this. “Fine,” he mutters. “One drink.”
Edgar smirks. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.”
With that, they drag him out of the building, and Hyunjin resigns himself to the fact that his quiet night is officially ruined.
-
The second you step into the bar, you weave through the crowd, scanning the room until your eyes land on Hyunjin. He’s standing by the bar, drinks in both hands, his expression neutral as he waits for the bartender to return with the rest of the order.
A smile tugs at your lips as an idea forms. Without a second thought, you close the distance between you and, just as he turns slightly, you throw your arms around him from behind. “Got you!”
Hyunjin tenses for half a second, startled, and nearly spills the drinks in his hands. You hear a sharp inhale, a quiet grunt of protest, but before he can say anything, you take full advantage of the fact that his hands are full. Leaning in, you press a quick, sweet kiss to his cheek.
“Happy birthday!” You cheerfully whisper into his ear and you can feel his whole body stiffens in reaction.
You pull back just enough to look at him, grinning as you meet his eyes. He stares at you, his lips slightly parted, clearly caught off guard. The dim lighting of the bar does nothing to hide the way his ears redden.
Hyunjin shifts the drinks in his hands and glances at you, still looking slightly flustered from the surprise hug and kiss. “Why are you here?” he asks, his tone more curious than accusatory.
Before you can answer, he exhales sharply and mutters, “Wait. Let me guess—Edgar?”
You grin and nod, confirming his guess. Right on cue, Edgar appears beside the two of you, a wide smile on his face as he claps Hyunjin on the back before turning his attention to you. “You made it! I knew you wouldn’t miss it.”
You chuckle. “I wouldn't miss a little fun.”
“Now, what are you drinking?” Edgar gestures towards the bar. “First round’s on me.”
Before you can reply, you shoot Hyunjin a playful look. “See? Edgar’s offering me a drink. Meanwhile, the birthday boy didn’t even ask.”
Hyunjin scoffs, rolling his eyes as he finally sets the drinks down on the table nearby. “You showed unannounced and ambushed me. You barely gave me a chance.”
You scoff and dramatically roll your eyes at Hyunjin. “Excuses.”
Edgar laughs. “Alright, alright, let me get you something. What’s your poison?”
The bar is alive with laughter and clinking glasses, everyone in high spirits as they celebrate Hyunjin’s birthday. The moment someone starts singing the birthday song, the rest of the group drunkenly joins in, their voices off-key and words slurred from all the alcohol.
Hyunjin groans, lifting a hand. “God! Please, shut up already.” His protest only makes them sing louder, and you laugh as you watch him shake his head in defeat.
Once the song ends with a chaotic cheer, the night continues with games, and somehow, you and Hyunjin end up locked in an intense match of darts. The two of you stand side by side, taking turns as the others watch and place bets on who will win.
“You’re going down,” you tease, lining up your shot before releasing the dart. It lands close to the bullseye, and you turn to Hyunjin with a smug smile.
Hyunjin clicks his tongue, picking up his dart. “We’ll see about that.”
He lines up his shot, eyes locked on the dartboard with unwavering focus. His fingers grip the dart, his stance firm as he calculates the perfect angle.
Smirking to yourself, you step closer, just enough to lean in near his ear. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you blow a soft puff of air against his skin.
Hyunjin instantly flinches, his body jerking as a shudder runs through him. “What the—?!” His grip on the dart slips, and it flies off-course, landing embarrassingly far from the bullseye.
You burst into laughter, covering your mouth as you watch him slowly turn to glare at you.
“That was sabotage,” he mutters, jaw tightening as he runs a hand through his hair.
Before he can even think about payback, your phone buzzes in your pocket, pulling your attention away. You look at it to check caller ID. “I need to take this,” you say, stepping back.
Hyunjin watches you go, still looking slightly flustered, a dart in hand, but his eyes linger on you for a moment before he finally turns back to the game.
-
Stepping out of the bar, you take a deep breath of the cool night air. The muffled sounds of laughter and music fade as you slip into the quieter back alley, away from the chaos inside. You glance at your phone screen before swiping to answer.
"Finally," Felix sighs dramatically on the other end. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."
You smirk, leaning against the brick wall. "And what if I was?"
"Then I'd have no choice but to call you every hour until you gave in," he teases, his voice warm and playful.
You roll your eyes. "You sound desperate."
"Of course, I’m desperate," he admits easily. "You still haven’t called me back. A lesser man would take the hint, but not me."
"You’re persistent," you muse.
"And charming," he adds smoothly. "And funny. And—"
"Annoying?" you finish for him.
Felix gasps in mock offense. "I was going to say irresistible, but sure, let’s go with annoying."
You chuckle. "Did you even call to talk about the collab at all?"
Felix hums. "Nope. I called because I wanted to."
Your stomach flutters slightly at his honesty, but you keep your voice light. "How bold of you."
"Always." He pauses, then asks, "So, when can I see you again?"
"As a good girl, I have to refuse the first time," you say teasingly. "You have to ask me again in two days."
Felix groans. "Two days? That’s cruel."
"You’ll live," you reply with a smirk.
"Fine," he grumbles. "But can I at least call you tomorrow?"
You pretend to consider. "You can… but I can’t promise you that I’ll pick it up."
Felix lets out a dramatic sigh. "Playing hard to get. I see how it is."
You grin. "Goodnight, Felix."
"Sweet dreams, beautiful," he replies smoothly before the call ends.
Your heart is still racing as you turn back toward the bar’s entrance, shaking off the uneasy feeling that Felix’s call had left behind.
Just as you’re about to step inside, you nearly bump into Edgar. The smell of alcohol clings to him, and his smile is loose, his movements sluggish. "There you are," he says, his voice slightly slurred. "I was looking for you."
You force a small smile. "I just stepped out to take a phone call." You move to walk past him, but before you can, he grabs your wrist.
"Stay with me for a bit," he says.
Your shoulders stiffen. He’s drunk—you can see it in his unfocused eyes. Keeping your distance, you shake your head. "I'd better go back inside."
Edgar frowns. "Hey, come on, just stay with me for a minute."
You let out a nervous laugh, trying to play it off. "I don’t want to make Hyunjin waits."
But then, before you can step back, Edgar’s grip tightens, and he pulls you closer. You freeze. "Edgar, please let go," you say firmly, trying to pull away.
Instead, he pulls you in even tighter, his face dangerously close to yours. "Come on, why are you so shy?" he chuckles.
You twist in his grip, but he only holds you tighter. Your stomach churns with unease. "You’re drunk," you tell him, keeping your voice as calm as possible. "Please, let me go."
Edgar only smirks. "Just one kiss."
You shove him—hard. He stumbles back, his back hitting the stacked crates of empty beer bottles. For a second, you think it’s over, but then he looks at you, his expression darkening. "How much?"
Your brows knotted. "What?"
Edgar tilts his head. "How much should I pay you for a kiss?"
Disgust and disbelief surge through you. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
He scoffs. "Don’t play dumb. I know who you are." His voice drops lower, more sinister. "So how much to fuck you?"
Your body goes rigid, the word alone making your skin crawl. "You're disgusting."
Before you can move, Edgar lunges toward you. Your back slams against the brick wall as he pins you there, his hands gripping your arms. Panic flares in your chest. You struggle, trying to push him off, but he’s stronger than you expected. "Get off me!"
And then, suddenly—The back door flies open with a loud bang.
"Get the fuck off her!"
Hyunjin’s voice is sharp, furious. He’s standing in the doorway, his whole body tense, his fists clenched at his sides. His eyes burn with anger as he takes in the scene before him—Edgar pinning you against the wall, your expression twisted in fear.
Edgar only scoffs, barely glancing at Hyunjin. "Relax, man—"
Before he can finish, Hyunjin strides forward and roughly grabs him by the shoulders, yanking him away from you and shoving him backward. Edgar stumbles, cursing.
Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate—he turns to you, his expression shifting. He reaches out, his hand grasping yours, pulling you up and steadying you. His touch is gentle despite the rage in his eyes.
Then Edgar laughs, low and taunting. "Why are you friends with a whore like her?"
The words hit like a slap and it makes something in Hyunjin snaps. He lunges at Edgar, landing a hard punch straight to his face. Edgar barely has time to process it before Hyunjin punches him again—once, twice. Edgar collapses onto the ground, but Hyunjin doesn’t stop. He gets down, grabbing Edgar by the collar, and raises his fist again.
"Hyunjin!" you cry, rushing forward.
Hyunjin is still breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven movements. His fists remain clenched, his knuckles already turning red from the force of his punches. Edgar groans on the ground, a hand pressed to his bleeding nose, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem satisfied yet. His body is still tense, ready to throw another punch.
Without thinking, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, holding him back. "Hyunjin," you plead, your voice quiet but urgent. "Please stop."
His whole body is trembling, heat radiating off him, but at your touch, his breathing hitches. He doesn’t move right away, as if still caught in the grip of his anger.
You tighten your hold, pressing your cheek against his back. "Let’s just go," you murmur.
Hyunjin’s fists slowly loosen. His breath is still uneven, but the tension in his body begins to ease. For a moment, neither of you move. The only sound is Edgar’s groaning and the distant noise of the bar inside. Then, finally, Hyunjin lets out a slow, shaky breath and nods.
You release him, stepping back just enough to see his face. His jaw is tight, his eyes still burning with anger, but he’s calming down. He turns away from Edgar without another glance. You take his hand—gently, reassuringly—and lead him away.
-
Hyunjin sits on the couch, his hand resting in yours as you carefully dab at his bruised knuckles with a damp cloth. His skin is raw, swollen, and angry-looking, but he barely flinches. Instead, he watches you. The way your brows knit together in concentration, the way your lips press into a tight line, the way your hands—gentle yet firm—move with such care.
“You shouldn’t have fought him,” you murmur, your voice laced with both scolding and concern. “What if you seriously hurt your hand? What if you couldn’t paint anymore?”
Hyunjin has been trying to hold himself together, trying to push down the emotions still swirling inside him, but hearing you go on and on about him—worrying about him instead of yourself—something inside him snaps.
"Why do you keep worrying about me?" he suddenly bursts out, his voice sharp. “You should worry about yourself!”
He immediately regrets it the moment the words leave his mouth. He watches as your lips part slightly, your breath hitching, and then—your eyes get red. His heart clenches.
Shit.
He inhales, forcing himself to calm down before his voice softens. "Are you okay?"
Your gaze wavers as you stare at him. For a second, it seems like you’re trying to hold it together, but then, barely above a whisper, you shake your head. "Honestly, no," you admit as tears spill from your eyes, "I'm not okay."
He reaches for you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You don’t resist—instead, you bury yourself against him, your shoulders shaking as you finally let yourself break. He holds you tight. "It’s okay," he murmurs. "I’ve got you."
The two of you stay like that with Hyunjin holding you close as if he tries to absorb part of you sadness. He doesn’t let go even as your sobs quiet, even as your breathing evens out, he keeps holding you, his arms wrapped securely around you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens his grip. His hand moves gently over your hair, smoothing it down, while his other rubs slow circles against your back. He doesn’t say anything—he just lets you cry, lets you release everything you’ve been holding in.
Minutes pass like this, the silence filled only by your uneven breaths. Then, finally, you stir against him. You pull back just enough to look at him, your face still wet with tears, eyes glassy and tired. Hyunjin meets your gaze, his heart aching at the vulnerability written all over your face.
"Can you stay with me tonight?" you ask, your voice small, fragile.
Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate as he nods. "Of course," he says softly.
Your lips tremble, but you manage a tiny, grateful smile.
He brushes his thumb over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "Come on," he murmurs, guiding you gently toward your bedroom. "Let’s get you to bed."
You and Hyunjin lie side by side on your bed, neither of you saying anything at first. Just breathing, just existing in the same space. Then, after a while, you break the silence.
"I'm sorry," you whisper.
He turns his head slightly, though he can barely make out your face in the dim light. "For what?"
"For… causing what happened."
At that, Hyunjin tenses. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, all you can hear is the faint hum of the city outside. Then, finally, he exhales.
"Why are you apologizing for getting assaulted?" His voice is quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it, like he’s trying to hold back his frustration. "That wasn’t your fault."
You don’t say anything, just stare up at the ceiling.
"If anything, what happened only showed me what kind of person Edgar really is," he continues. "And I don’t want to be friends with someone like that."
Silence settles between you again. Then, after a long pause, you shift closer to him. He feels the mattress dip under your weight, feels the warmth of your body inching toward him. When he looks over, he catches the faint gleam of your eyes in the dark, watching him.
Then, softly, you whisper his name. "Hyunjin."
He hums in acknowledgment. "Yeah?"
"Thank you," you say, your voice barely more than a breath.
Hyunjin swallows. He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just nods, even though you probably can’t see it. Another stretch of silence follows, before you whisper again, "Goodnight."
He watches as your breathing evens out, your body relaxing as sleep slowly takes over. He tells himself he’ll leave once you’re asleep. He should go. He should get up, go back to his own apartment, and try to put everything that happened tonight behind him. But he doesn’t move. He stays.
-
Hyunjin wakes up to the unfamiliar weight of a blanket draped over him and the soft glow of morning light kissing his skin. His mind is slow to catch up, disoriented by the unfamiliar scent of the sheets and the way the bed feels different from his own. Then it hits him—he’s in your apartment. His eyes snap open fully, and he turns his head toward the space beside him, only to find it empty. The warmth lingering on the sheets tells him you must have been there not too long ago.
Hyunjin sits up, running a hand through his messy hair as he blinks away the remnants of sleep. His body feels heavy, weighed down by exhaustion and the events of last night. Still, he forces himself to get up, his movements sluggish as he fumbles out of bed.
The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. He steps out of your bedroom, his bare feet padding against the floor as he looks around. His gaze sweeps over the small living space, searching for you. For a second, a strange unease creeps up his spine—until he finally spots you.
You’re perched on the window sill, one knee pulled up to your chest, a steaming mug of coffee resting in your hands. You look lost in thought, your gaze fixed outside, watching the world slowly wake up.
He lingers in the doorway, unsure if he should say something or if he should just leave quietly. But then, as if sensing his presence, you slowly turn your head to the side.
Your eyes meet his, and then, just like that, you smile—soft and warm, like the morning itself. "Good morning," you greet, your voice still laced with sleep.
Hyunjin debating whether he should stay or make up an excuse to leave. But before he can make a decision, you tilt your head toward the kitchen.
“Are you hungry?” you ask, taking another sip of your coffee.
He shakes his head almost immediately. “I should probably go—”
Before he can finish, you slide off the window sill, setting your mug down on the counter. “At least have some breakfast first.”
Hyunjin hesitates. He’s not really in the mood to eat, but before he can refuse, you’re already walking toward him, placing a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder as you steer him toward the dining table.
“Sit,” you say, your tone leaving no room for argument.
He exhales through his nose but doesn’t fight it, dropping himself onto the chair. His fingers drum idly against the tabletop as he watches you move around the kitchen.
A few moments later, you place a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “Here. This should help wake you up.”
He glances at you, then at the cup. He hesitates for a second before finally wrapping his fingers around it, letting the warmth seep into his palms. He takes a slow sip, the bitterness grounding him a little.
You smile in satisfaction. “Good. Now sit tight while I make breakfast.”
Hyunjin hadn’t planned to stay, but now, with a warm meal in front of him and the air feeling oddly peaceful, he finds himself grateful that you insisted. As he takes the last bite of his toast, he feels your gaze on him. He glances up and catches you staring, your expression unreadable. His brow lifts slightly.
“What?” he asks, setting his fork down.
You hesitate, like you’re debating something internally, before finally reaching for something on the chair next to you. Hyunjin watches as you pick up a small, neatly wrapped package and place it on the table between you. His eyes flicker to the gift, then back to you.
“I didn’t get the chance to give this to you last night,” you explain, sliding it toward him.
“You got me a gift?” His voice comes out more hesitant than he intended.
Before he can say anything else, you quickly add, “I didn’t spend much money on it or anything. I made it myself.”
That catches his attention. His fingers twitch against his coffee cup as he stares at the package. He hesitates to reach for it, unsure if he deserves something so thoughtful. Seeing his reluctance, you gently nudge it closer. “Go on. Open it.”
He swallows, then carefully picks it up and begins unwrapping it. His fingers move slowly, peeling back the wrapping until he uncovers a leather-bound case. He unfolds it, his curiosity piqued when he sees the compartments inside. It takes him a moment to process—until realization dawns on him. It’s a paintbrush case. He runs his fingers over the stitching, taking in the effort that went into it.
Before he can say anything, you quickly interject, “I know it’s not perfect—”
“I like it,” He cuts you off, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. His eyes meet yours, sincere and unguarded. “Thank you.”
Hyunjin barely has any words left to say after that. He just sits there, running his fingers over the smooth leather of the paintbrush case, admiring the craftsmanship and the effort you put into it. Every stitch, every fold—it’s clear that you made this with him in mind. He doesn’t know how to express what he’s feeling, so instead, he keeps his gaze on the gift, hoping you understand his silence for what it is: gratitude.
A smile slowly blooms on your face at his words, and something warm unfurls in his chest at the sight. Then, you break the quiet, your voice gentle but casual. “And don’t forget that we have that shoot tomorrow.”
He looks up at you, your expression easy and composed, as if nothing had happened the night before. His brows furrow slightly. “Shouldn’t you be… slowing down and maybe take a break?”
You shake your head and absentmindedly stabbing pieces of scrambled egg with your fork. “Nah. Making content takes my mind off things.”
Hyunjin watches you for a moment, studying the way you say it so lightly, like you’re brushing everything off as if last night didn’t shake you to your core. He wants to say something—maybe push you to take a break, to take care of yourself—but he can tell you don’t want to talk about it. He still doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but if this is what you want, he won’t argue. So instead, he just nods. “Alright.”
-
The air still humming with the energy of the shoot as you lie on your stomach on the thin mattress, your bare legs lazily swinging behind you as you scroll through Lustre notifications. The sheets beneath you are slightly rumpled from all the movement earlier.
Hyunjin is across the room, busy checking the result of the shoot. You let yourself get lost in your notifications, tapping through comments and messages until one catches your eye.
mag.shawn: I really liked your new set. You look beautiful as always. But I think what I love the most is your smile. Whenever I see it, it makes me wish for you to always be happy. That way, I get to see you smile every day.
There's something about his message feels different from the usual compliments you receive—more genuine, maybe. Less about desire and more about… you.
You: That’s really sweet. Thank you for your message. I appreciate it.
You hit send and glance up, only to find Hyunjin standing by the tripod, watching you with an unreadable expression. You don’t know how long he’s been looking.
“What?” you ask, propping your chin on your hand.
He shakes his head, turning away to grab his jacket. “Nothing.”
You prop yourself up on your elbows, tilting your head at him, “Dinner?”
“Sure, I'll order,” he calmly responds, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and begins tapping on it.
“And how about we watch a movie after?” you ask out of a whim.
Hyunjin looks up from his phone to look at you and casually says, “Sure.”
The soft glow of the living room lamps mixes with the flickering light from the movie playing on the screen, creating a cozy atmosphere. Hyunjin sits on the sofa, his plate resting on his lap as he absentmindedly takes small bites of his cake. His plan had been simple—stay a little longer to keep you company, maybe distract you for a while. But somewhere between the hearty dinner, and now, sitting here in the warmth of your apartment with you beside him, he realizes something he hadn’t expected. He’s enjoying himself.
It’s not just the food or the movie, though both are nice. It’s the easy, unspoken comfort of the moment. The way you’re curled up next to him, completely immersed in the film, your spoon slowly scraping against the plate as you savor each bite. The occasional hum of satisfaction you make. The way he feels… at ease. He had meant to leave. He always does after the shoots. But now, he isn’t in a hurry.
You suddenly nudge him with your elbow, breaking him out of his thoughts. “It's good, right?” you motion toward his plate.
He glances down at the half-eaten slice of cake before looking back at you. A small smirk tugs at his lips. “Yeah. It’s good.”
Then your phone rings, shattering the comfortable silence. You don’t hesitate to pick it up, casually bringing it to your ear as if you’ve been expecting the call. At first, he doesn’t think much of it, keeping his focus on the movie, but then he can't help but catches glimpses of the conversation.
Your voice, soft and teasing, the slight lilt in your tone as you speak. A light chuckle here, a playful hum there. It doesn’t take much for him to piece together the kind of conversation you’re having.
He doesn’t want to care. He really doesn’t. So he keeps his eyes on the screen. By the time you finally hang up and set your phone aside, he barely lasts a second before blurting out, “Who was that?”
You glance at him, completely unbothered. “Felix.”
He keeps his expression neutral as he asks, “What did he want?”
“He asked if I’ve decided about the collab yet,” you say, stretching your arms above your head before settling back against the pillows.
Hyunjin hesitates before asking, “And… do you want to do it?”
“I think it’s a good opportunity to start something new.”
He frowns. “After what happened?”
You sigh, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. “I know,” you meekly admit.
“Then do you have to do it?”
“Not necessarily,” you say, meeting his gaze. “But I can’t just keep doing the same content and expect a different result.”
He exhales through his nose, still uneasy. “Do you trust him enough to do this with him?”
A small smile plays on your lips as you tilt your head. “The only man I trust to do this with is you.”
And then, before he can even process that, you add, “But since you obviously don’t want to, that means I don't exactly have any options.”
“Let’s do it.” The words slip out of him before he can stop them.
You freeze for a second. “What?”
He swallows, his grip tightening around his plate. “Do it with me.”
You stare at him for a second before laughing, shaking your head as if he just told the funniest joke. "Yeah, right," you scoff, waving a hand dismissively.
But Hyunjin doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. His expression remains serious, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your laughter waver. “I mean it,” he says, setting his plate down. “I want to do it.”
You arch a brow, still unconvinced. “You? Hyunjin, are you actually serious?”
“Yes,” he insists. “If you want, we can do it now.”
That only makes you laugh harder. “Oh my God, stop,” you say, pressing a hand against your forehead. “This is funny, okay, you've got me.”
His expression shifts slightly, a flicker of offense crossing his features. His brows pull together as he watches you laugh at him. “What’s so funny?”
“You,” you chuckle, wiping at your eyes. “You saying all that with a straight face.”
He exhales sharply. “I don’t see what’s so funny about it.”
You sigh, finally regaining your composure, and shake your head with a small smile. “Even if you want to do it, we can’t just jump into it immediately.”
“Why not?” he challenges, tilting his head.
You lean forward slightly, resting your elbow on your knee. “Because,” you say, meeting his gaze, “there’s something else you have to do first.”
-
You remember, almost absentmindedly, that your friend’s wedding is this weekend. The realization comes as you sip your morning coffee, scrolling through your phone. A few mutual friends have posted about their excitement—outfit choices, travel plans, well wishes.
That’s when you glance toward the kitchen counter and spot the wedding invitation, half-buried beneath a pile of unopened mail. You set your mug down and pick it up, running your fingers over the elegant gold lettering. The date is clear. It’s happening in just a few days.
But instead of excitement, a heavy feeling settles in your chest. The memory of their engagement party resurfaces, uninvited. The way the night had ended for you. The way you had driven home with a lump in your throat, gripping the wheel too tightly. The way you had collapsed onto your bed, drowning in emotions you couldn’t quite name. You exhale sharply and set the invitation down. You already know your answer. You’re not going.
Turning away, you head toward your closet, pulling out the dress you had bought specifically for the occasion. It’s still in its garment bag, tags still attached—a waste, really. You take it out, letting the fabric slip between your fingers, admiring it for a moment before shaking your head. There’s no point in keeping it now.
Grabbing your phone, you check the return policy. Still eligible. Good. You drape the dress over your arm, grab your keys, and head for the door.
The store is far from crowded when you arrive. You step inside, the dress slung over your shoulder, and make your way straight to the customer service counter. A staff member greets you with a polite smile, and you return it as you place the garment bag onto the counter. “I’d like to return this,” you say, unzipping the bag to reveal the dress inside.
She nods and begins the process, asking for your receipt. As you dig through your bag, you hear footsteps approaching the counter beside you. Then, a familiar voice. “Uh—same here, actually.”
You freeze for a second before turning your head to the side. And there he is—Felix, standing next to you, looking just as surprised to see you. He’s holding a neatly folded tie, still in its box. His brows raise. “What are you doing here?”
You gesture toward the dress on the counter. “Returning this. You?”
A small laugh escapes him. “Returning this,” he says, lifting the tie slightly.
Before you can say anything else, the staff member turns her attention back to you. “May I know what’s the reason for the return?”
You hesitate, not exactly in the mood to explain the real reason behind it. Instead, you go for the easy answer. “I... don’t really like the cut.”
The staff nods, then looks at Felix. “And how about you?”
Felix grins, eyes glinting with mischief as he shrugs. “Yeah, same. Don’t really like the cut.”
It takes a second for the words to settle in before you both burst into laughter. The staff watches, clearly amused but keeping professional as she processes the returns. You shake your head, still chuckling, as Felix leans slightly against the counter. “Guess we both had second thoughts,” he muses, still grinning.
You and Felix found a cozy café not far from the store, the two of you sit by the window, your drinks in hand, watching people pass by outside.
Felix stirs his iced coffee lazily, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You know,” he starts, “I’ve been holding myself back from calling you again.”
You raise an eyebrow, sipping your drink. “Oh? Now I can't help but think that maybe returning your tie was just an excuse to see me.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Damn, you caught me.” Then, with a small sigh, he leans back in his chair, fingers tapping against the side of his cup. “But for real, my mom’s been pushing me to go to these job interviews. That’s actually why she got me the tie.”
You tilt your head. “Job interviews? For what?”
“Office jobs. Boring ones,” he says, rolling his eyes. “The kind where you sit at a desk all day and pretend to care about spreadsheets and meetings.” He takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. “I know she means well, but it’s just not for me.”
You nod in understanding. “So, you didn’t even go?”
“Nah,” he admits, grinning unapologetically before adorablg scrunches his nose. “I told her I’d think about it, but I don’t really want to. I like what I do. I don’t care what people think about it. It makes me money, I enjoy it, and that’s enough for me.”
Hearing that, you feel a flicker of understanding settle in your chest. You know exactly what he means. “Yeah,” you murmur, tapping your fingers against your cup. “I get that.”
Felix props his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you. "And how about you? Why’d you really return the dress?" he asks casually before taking another sip of his coffee.
You shrug, keeping your tone light. "Didn’t like the color."
He hums, unconvinced. "All colors suit you. Please find a better answer. "
You roll your eyes at him but let out a small laugh. He sees right through you. There’s no point in dodging the question, so you sigh, setting your cup down. "Fine," you admit. "It’s for a wedding this weekend… my friend's wedding."
Felix nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.
"I was supposed to go," you say, fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "But I think I'd better not."
His expression shifts slightly, more attentive now. "Why?"
You exhale, looking out the café window for a moment. "I went to their engagement part and it wasn’t exactly a fun experience for me," you say with a wry smile. "People whispering, looking at me like I don’t belong there, some even making comments loud enough for me to hear. I just…" You shake your head. "I don’t want to deal with that again. I don’t want to cause any inconvenience at their wedding."
Felix frowns as he absentmindedly stirring his iced coffee with the straw. "Inconvenience?"
You nod, finger fiddling with the handle of your coffee mug. "It’s their special day. The last thing they need is people gossiping about me in the background."
He clicks his tongue in disapproval, leaning back in his chair. "That’s bullshit," he says, blunt as ever. "If your friend invited you, it means they want you there. You shouldn’t have to miss out on something just because some people don’t know how to mind their own business."
A part of you knows he’s right, but another part still hesitates. You give him a small smile, but it doesn't quite reach your eyes. "It’s easier this way."
Felix studies you for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "Easier, maybe. But is it what you really want?"
Hearing no answers from you, he leans forward, resting his arms on the table, his warm brown eyes locked onto yours with an almost mischievous glint. "I think you should go," he says firmly. "Screw those people. It’s your friend’s wedding, not theirs."
You exhale, shaking your head. "Felix—"
"I’m serious," he cuts in. "And if you don’t want to go alone, then I’ll go with you."
That makes you pause and then snort in disbelief. "You’d do that?"
"Of course. I’ll be your date. Your supporter. Your personal hype man. Whatever you need." He gestures at himself dramatically. "I’ll make sure no one says a damn thing to you. And if they do, I’ll just blind them with my dazzling presence."
You let out a soft laugh, but something about the way he’s looking at you—so eager to help, so understanding—makes your chest feel warm. Felix is just that kind of person. Confident, carefree, and unapologetic about who he is. And that confidence? It’s infectious.
You find yourself nodding before you even realize it. "Okay," you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll take you as my date."
Felix beams at that until you add, "But," you tilt your head playfully, "I get to pick the tie."
His grin only widens. "Fine. But in that case, I get to help you pick the dress."
You laugh, shaking your head. "Deal."
He raises his coffee cup. "To proving people wrong and looking damn good while doing it."
You clink your cup against his with a quiet chuckle, a strange but pleasant feeling settling in your chest. Maybe this wedding won’t be so bad after all.
-
Lately, there’s been one message you always expect—one you’ve started looking forward to more than you’d admit. You take a slow sip of your smoothie, the cool sweetness spreading across your tongue as you scroll through your Lustre notifications. And, as expected, there it is.
mag.shawn: I can’t wait for your new post. But what I look forward to the most is seeing your beautiful face—it always brightens up my days.
A small smile tugs at your lips as you read it. You type out a quick reply, letting the warmth of his words settle over you.
You: That’s so sweet of you to say. I’ll do my best to keep brightening your days then ❤️
Just as you’re about to take another sip of your smoothie, a sudden knock echoes through your apartment. You stare at the door for a second longer before unlocking it and pulling it open.
Hyunjin stands there, his long dark hair slightly disheveled as if he had run his fingers through it too many times. One hand grips the strap of his bag, the other tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. His gaze flickers to yours, then away, before he clears his throat. "Hey," he says. "Can I come in?"
You don’t say anything, just step aside and open the door wider. He takes it as an invitation and walks in, dropping his bag near the couch. Without a word, you walk to the fridge, grab a can of drink, and hand it to him. He takes it with a quiet thanks, cracking it open but not taking a sip yet. Instead, he glances at you, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.
"Can I use your laptop?" he asks. "I need to check something."
You raise a brow but nod, grabbing your laptop from the coffee table and passing it to him. As he opens it and starts typing, you settle beside him on the couch, bringing your smoothie to your lips.
For a while, the only sounds in the room are the soft clicks of the keyboard and the occasional sip of your drink. You don’t press him for details, simply letting him do whatever he needs to do. Then, after a few minutes, he exhales through his nose and turns the screen toward you.
You glance at him before looking down at the laptop. The moment your eyes land on the screen, your breath catches. Displayed in clear text is the result of his STIs test. Negative.
The confirmation settles something deep in your chest. You had asked him to do this before the two of you could make content together, and now here it is—the proof that he actually went through with it. Your gaze lifts back to his, and for the first time since he arrived, Hyunjin looks directly at you. His expression is unreadable, but his fingers drum against the side of the can in his hand, a telltale sign of his nerves.
“Well?” he asks, voice quiet.
“Well,” you echo, taking another sip of your smoothie, swallowing slowly before answering.
A while later, you set your smoothie down on the table, eyes still locked on Hyunjin as you tilt your head slightly. "I just have to ask you one more time. Are you sure you really want to do this?"
"Yeah," he answers without a beat.
His answer is immediate, but you don’t let it slide that easily. You lean back against the couch, crossing one leg over the other as you study him. "You know there’s no turning back once you do, right?"
He huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "You keep saying that like I haven’t already thought about it."
"Have you, though?" You arch a brow, unconvinced. "Because I’m not just talking about the content itself. I’m talking about everything that comes with it. The comments, the assumptions people will make about you, the way this could change things—"
"I don’t really care." His voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it. A certainty that makes your stomach twist.
You watch him for a moment, searching for any hint of doubt in his expression, but there’s none. He holds your gaze, unwavering, and it’s only then that you realize—he’s already made up his mind. Still, you hesitate. "...Why?"
Hyunjin exhales, running a hand through his hair before leaning back against the couch. "Because I want to help you." He pauses, looking away for a second before glancing back at you. "And maybe I just want to do it with you."
That last part makes your heart skip a beat, but you push past it, keeping your voice light. "You say that like you don’t have better options."
Hyunjin scoffs as he rubs his lower lip with his finger. "You say that like I care about other options."
You stare at him, lips pressing together. He stares back, waiting. Then, finally, you sigh and shake your head, a small smile pulling at your lips. "Okay, let's do it then."
-
At this point, Hyunjin treats your apartment like his own, he moves around with practiced ease, pulling the sheer curtains open just enough to let the afternoon light spill into the room. The soft glow is exactly what he wants for today’s shoot—natural, warm, and intimate. He glances over his setup, adjusting the white cloth draped over the couch, smoothing out any wrinkles. The space is nearly ready.
The sound of your footsteps draws his attention, and when he looks up, you’re walking toward him with two cans of drinks in hand. Your hair is slightly tousled, and there’s a relaxed air about you as you offer him one of the cans.
Hyunjin steps forward, wiping his hands on his jeans before taking the drink from you. His fingers brush against yours for a split second, and he wonders if you notice. "Perfect timing," he murmurs, bringing the can to his lips for a quick sip. The warmth seeps into his fingers, and he exhales softly. "Thanks."
You nod, taking a sip of your own before glancing around the setup. "So... everything ready?"
"Almost," he says, rolling his shoulders. "I want to play with the light a little, see how it looks on camera." He steps back, scanning the room, his mind already piecing together the angles and shots. The sunlight highlights the shapes of the couch, creating soft shadows. It’s exactly what he envisioned.
You lower your can of drink and glance at Hyunjin, who is still surveying the setup with a focused look on his face. “So, what’s the plan for today?” you ask, shifting your weight onto one leg.
He turns to you, his dark eyes settling on yours. “I want to use the light as much as possible. It’ll create a really soft effect, like…” He gestures vaguely with his free hand, trying to find the right words. “Like something dreamlike, almost natural. I’ll direct you, but I also want you to move how you feel comfortable.”
You hum, tilting your head as you process his vision. “So, more candid, less posed?”
He nods, sipping his coffee. “Exactly.”
You shift closer, peering at him over the rim of your cup. “And… Do I have your consent for the part after?”
Hyunjin blinks, then a slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “You have my consent,” he says smoothly, his voice steady, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression—anticipation, maybe.
You let out a short laugh, arching a brow as you tease him, “You sound so eager for today’s shoot.”
He rolls his eyes, but the way his fingers tap against his can of drink betrays him. “I’m just committed to making this look good,” he says, feigning nonchalance.
You grin, stepping past him toward the couch. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”
Hyunjin adjusts the camera in his hands, his fingers instinctively finding the right settings as he looks through the lens. The natural light floods the room, casting soft shadows across your skin. You’re draped across the couch in nothing but a loose white sweater and matching underwear, your body relaxed, effortlessly beautiful.
He’s done this before—countless times now—but there’s something about this moment that makes him pause. Maybe it’s the way the light caresses the curves of your body, or how the sweater slips just enough off your shoulder to reveal more of your skin. Or maybe it’s just you. No matter how many times he’s taken your pictures, Hyunjin realizes he never gets tired of looking at you. Admiring you.
You shift slightly, pulling one knee up and resting your head against the back of the couch. The motion is so natural, so effortlessly alluring, that Hyunjin forgets to press the shutter button for a second. When he finally does, he exhales a quiet breath.
"You’re staring," you tease, your voice light but knowing.
He lowers the camera slightly, meeting your gaze. There’s amusement in your eyes, but also something else—something softer. He swallows, rolling his shoulders like he can shake off whatever this feeling is. "Why? Are you shy now?" he teases, bringing the camera up again.
Done taking your pictures, Hyunjin moves around the room for the second time to set the cameras to their tripods at different angles, making sure everything is set up just right. He’s meticulous about it, double-checking each frame, making small tweaks to the lighting. When he’s finally satisfied, he steps away and joins you on the couch.
As soon as he sits down next to you, you turn to him, your gaze soft but playful. Without a word, you reach up and tug the hair tie from his dark locks, setting them free. His long hair falls around his face, a few strands brushing against his cheek.
You hum in approval, lifting your hand to run your fingers through his hair, smoothing it back before letting it slip through your fingers. There’s something intimate in the way you touch him, something gentle that makes his breath catch for just a second. A smile tugs at your lips as you look at him. “Are you ready?”
Hyunjin swallows, his dark eyes locked onto yours. He doesn’t answer right away, just watches you for a moment before exhaling through his nose, a small, knowing smile appearing on his lips.
"Yeah," he finally says, his voice lower than before.
You lift your hand and rest it on Hyunjin’s stomach, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his breath beneath your fingertips. His muscles tense for just a second before he consciously relaxes, his dark eyes still locked onto yours, watching, waiting.
Slowly, you lean in, closing the small space between you until your lips are just beside his ear. You can feel the warmth of his skin, hear the soft hitch in his breath. "Get comfortable," you murmur, your voice soft yet firm, your lips nearly brushing against the shell of his ear. "And follow my lead."
Hyunjin exhales, a quiet, shuddering breath. His hands press into the couch beside him, fingers twitching slightly as if resisting the urge to touch you. His jaw clenches for a moment before he gives you a small, almost amused smile. "Alright," he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper.
You move with unhurried confidence, shifting onto his lap and settling yourself comfortably as you straddle him. His hands instinctively find purchase on your hips, but he doesn’t grip—just rests them there, warm and solid. Your hands trail down his chest, fingers grazing over the fabric of his shirt. You take your time, carefully unbuttoning each button one by one, your touch light and deliberate. He doesn’t rush you—he simply watches, his lips parting slightly when you finally part the fabric open and slip the shirt off his shoulders, exposing the lean definition of his torso.
Laying your palm flat against his chest, you let your fingertips trace over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him, the subtle twitch of his muscles under your touch. Hyunjin exhales sharply, his breath hitching just slightly, and you feel him shiver beneath your fingertips. His hands on your hips flex subtly, his gaze flickering between your face and the way your hands explore his skin. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, voice lower than before when he finally speaks.
“You’re really taking your time with this,” he murmurs, a teasing edge to his tone, but there’s something else underneath.
You simply smile, letting your fingers trace a slow, featherlight path over his collarbone. “Of course,” you say softly. “What’s the rush?”
You tilt your head, watching the way his gaze lingers on your face before dropping lower, his hands still resting on your hips as if he's trying to ground himself. Then, with a soft smile, you murmur, "Aren't you going to help me too?"
His hands tightening slightly before he reaches for the hem of your sweater. His fingers brush against your skin as he gathers the fabric, and he hesitates just for a moment, his dark eyes flickering up to yours as if silently asking for permission one last time.
You give him a small nod, and with that, he slowly lifts the sweater up, savoring the moment as he peels the soft fabric from your skin. His touch is gentle, careful, as he pulls it over your head and lets it slip from his fingers, tossing it aside.
Now bare before him, you feel the cool air graze your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating between you. Hyunjin’s eyes trace over you, his gaze slow and reverent, like he's taking in a painting he's never seen before, committing every detail to memory. His breath is unsteady when he finally meets your gaze again. His hands remain on your waist, but this time, they grip just a little tighter, like he's afraid to move too fast.
For a moment, neither of you say anything. The only sound is the soft hum of the camera in the background, recording every fleeting touch, every unspoken exchange.
You take Hyunjin’s hands in yours, guiding them up your body, over the curve of your waist, the dip of your ribs, and then higher, letting him feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. His hands are warm, his touch hesitant but eager, and you can feel the way his fingers tremble slightly as you place them exactly where you want them, cupping the underside of your breasts. Then, slowly, you let go.
His hands remain where you left them for a moment, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the expanse of skin beneath his palms. When he finally moves, it's deliberate—his hands tracing over you, reveling in the way you feel. He drags his fingertips lightly over your skin, tracing lines only he can see, and the way he does it, so careful, so in awe, makes your breath shallow.
You rest your arms on his shoulders, letting your fingers trail along the nape of his neck, playing with the strands of his dark hair. Hyunjin tilts his head back slightly, his long hair falling away from his face as he looks up at you. His expression is unreadable at first, but then—he smiles. Not a smirk, not a teasing grin, but something softer, something real.
His eyes drink you in, as if seeing you this close, this bare, makes you even more breathtaking to him. And for a moment, he just lets himself admire you, his hands still exploring, mapping out every curve, every line, like he’s afraid he’ll forget how you feel beneath him.
He continues his exploration. His fingers trail up from your shoulders, over the curve of your neck, his touch featherlight. He maps out your skin with delicate strokes, tracing along the slope of your throat, the line of your jaw. His fingertips glide over your cheekbone, then dip lower, ghosting over the bridge of your nose before finally brushing against your lips.
Then, gently, he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, smoothing it away from your face. But instead of letting go, he keeps his hand there, holding your hair in place as his thumb idly caresses the side of your neck.
You watch him closely, your own hands moving to explore him in return. Your fingers drift up, brushing through his soft dark hair before trailing down to his face. You trace the arch of his brow, the sharp yet delicate bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheekbone. Then, without thinking, your thumb sweeps across his lips.
His lips are soft beneath your touch, plush and warm, and they part just slightly as your thumb glides over them. You meet his gaze, your own fingers lingering against his mouth as you softly ask, “Do you want to kiss?”
Without answering, Hyunjin leans in, his dark eyes locked onto yours, but just as his lips are about to brush against yours, you pull back ever so slightly. A teasing smile tugs at the corner of your lips as he instinctively follows, chasing after the kiss you’ve withheld. He exhales sharply through his nose, catching on to your game. His head falls back against the couch, and he lets out a dramatic sigh, his bottom lip jutting out in a soft pout. His hands rest on your waist, fingers idly pressing into your skin as he looks up at you with mock betrayal.
Despite his sulking, you giggle. There’s something so endearing about seeing Hyunjin—usually confident, effortlessly charming—reduced to a pouting mess just because of you.
Still smiling, you cup his jaw, your thumbs tracing the shape of his cheekbones. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he holds himself still, waiting. Then, slowly, you lean in and press your lips to his.
Hyunjin kisses you back like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s thought about it more than he’d ever admit. His lips move against yours, soft at first but it doesn’t take long before his desire seeps through. He sucks on your lower lip, teasingly slow, before tugging it between his teeth, just enough to make you shiver. Despite the bite, you sigh into his mouth, the sensation sending warmth through your body.
Hyunjin swallows the sound, his grip on you firm but never forceful. His lips move against yours with a growing hunger, hungry for the taste of you. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His warmth engulfs you, and the way he holds you—tight yet careful—makes your heart pound just as much as his kisses do. His lips move against yours with more urgency now, deepening the kiss, his breath mixing with yours. Then, without warning, he drags his lips away, trailing a path down your jaw to your neck. The first press of his mouth against your skin is soft, almost teasing, but then he sucks lightly on the spot just below your ear, making your breath hitch.
A gasp escapes you as he continues, alternating between kisses and gentle bites, marking you in ways that feel both dangerous and thrilling. His hands explore your body, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine, skimming over your sides, pressing into the small of your back. His touch is everywhere—palms smoothing over your bare skin, thumbs brushing over sensitive spots, sending shivers coursing through you.
The room feels smaller, hotter, as the two of you stay tangled together, lips and hands lost in each other. Hyunjin has his hands splayed across your back as his lips continue their path down your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a shiver through you as he lingers just above your collarbone. You shift slightly in his lap, adjusting your position, but the movement draws a quiet, unbidden sound from deep within him.
Your hands tangle in his dark hair, threading through the soft strands as he buries his face against you while you decide to continue to tease him, rubbing yourself against his growing erection. His lips brush lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin. The warmth of his mouth makes you exhale shakily, your fingers instinctively gripping his shoulders. As you continue slowly grinding on him, the friction between you both grows, drawing an almost involuntary reaction from him. His breath hitches, his fingers flex against your sides, and when you roll your hips just a little more, a quiet curse slips past his lips.
Hyunjin's hands slide down, gripping you gently but firmly, guiding you as though he wants you closer—if that were even possible. His lips part against your skin, and you feel the soft pull of his mouth, a teasing scrape of his teeth that has you gasping.
For a moment, the two of you simply move together, unhurried yet undeniably in sync. It’s intoxicating—the way he holds you, the way his body reacts to yours, the way the warmth between you seems to build with each slow grind against his swollen bulge.
You kiss him again, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss that deepens with every second. Hyunjin responds just as eagerly, his hands roaming your body, his grip tightening when you roll your hips against him again. His breath stutters when you pull away, but before he can protest, you tilt your head and press your lips to his jawline, then lower—to the sensitive spot beneath his ear, to the column of his throat where you can feel his pulse quicken.
His fingers dig into your flesh as you trail your lips down his neck, your mouth leaving a warm path over his collarbone, his chest. His skin is hot beneath your lips, his breath uneven as you continue your slow descent. You can feel the way his body tenses, anticipating your next move. And then you shift, slipping off his lap with deliberate slowness, your hands skimming down his sides as you lower yourself to the floor. Standing in front of him, you press your palms to his thighs, feeling the subtle tremor in his muscles before you gently part his legs, making space for yourself between them.
Hyunjin looks down at you, his dark eyes clouded with something heavy and overpowering, his lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something—but he doesn’t. Instead, he swallows hard, watching you intently as you kneel between his legs, your hands still resting on his thighs. A quiet beat passes between you, charged with tension. Then, you lift your gaze to meet his, your fingers trailing slowly along the denim of his jeans.
"Still comfortable?" you ask, your voice light, teasing.
Hyunjin exhales a soft, breathy laugh, though his voice is rough when he responds. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Very."
Your fingers begin to move, tracing the waistband of his jeans before dipping lower. Hyunjin's breath hitches as you work the button open, then the zipper, the sound cutting through the silence in the room. His hands, which had been resting on his thighs, twitch—like he wants to touch you, to stop you, or maybe to urge you on. But he doesn’t move. He just watches, his chest rising and falling a little too quickly, his lips slightly parted as if he’s forgotten how to breathe.
You take your time, easing the fabric down just enough, and when you finally free his member out of its confine, his head falls back against the couch, a quiet groan slipping past his lips. "Are we good?" you ask softly, fingers teasing, barely touching his erection.
Hyunjin exhales a shuddery breath, his lips curving into a crooked, breathless smile. "Yeah," he murmurs, voice rough.
For a moment, you do nothing—just let your fingers ghost along his hardening length, featherlight, teasing. You hear the sharp inhale he takes, see the way his stomach tenses as you rub your thumb around the crest of his cock. He’s beautiful like this—vulnerable in a way that makes warmth curl in your stomach, his dark hair tousled, his lips red and kiss-swollen.
"You're so hard, so big..." you sigh, slightly tightening your fingers around him.
You glance up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze as you begin giving his cock slow, deliberate strokes. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, filled with something heady and unspoken. You take your time, watching him, waiting until he meets your gaze before lowering yourself, you press a kiss to his hip, then another, trailing lower, savoring the way his body reacts to your touch. He lets out a quiet groan when your lips finally brush over the tip of his cock.
The first sound he makes when you take his cock into your mouth is something between a sigh and a moan, his head tipping back against the couch. His hand finds your hair, not pushing, just resting, as if he needs something to hold onto. You hollow out your cheeks and give him a good suck before slowly pulling away. You quickly replace your mouth with your hand to keep the stimulation going.
With your lips wet from saliva, you ask, "Does it feel good?"
"Yeah," he breathlessly answer before letting out a shaky exhale.
You lick your lips before taking him in again, little by little until half of his length disappeared into you. Then, you beging moving, moving your mouth to testing, to tease while watching the way his stomach tenses and his lips part with every careful motion.
"Fuck..." he breathes out, voice wrecked.
His breaths grow uneven, his grip tightening slightly, and when you flick your gaze upward, the sight of him—eyes heavy-lidded, mouth parted, completely undone—sends a wave of satisfaction through you.
You hum against him, reveling in the way he shudders beneath you, completely at your mercy. You give him a second to gather some senses and using your hand to pump his cock.
"Don't tell me you're going to come just from this," you tease, dragging your lips down the underside of his length before putting him into your mouth again.
Hyunjin’s breath stutters, his fingers tightening in your hair as you continue your slow, teasing pace. His body is completely at your mercy, and he knows it—you can feel it in the way he trembles beneath you, in the soft, choked sounds that slip past his parted lips. His other hand moves to the back of the couch, gripping it like he needs to anchor himself, his head tilting back as he exhales a shaky breath. "You're—" He cuts himself off with a groan, his body tensing for a moment before melting back into the cushions.
You glance up at him through your lashes, taking in the way his chest rises and falls with each unsteady breath, the way his brows knit together as he fights for control. There's something intoxicating about watching him like this, unraveling under your touch, his usual confidence slipping away little by little.
"What do you think? Am I doing good?" Your lips graze the tip of his cock as you speak.
"You're too good at this," he finally manages to answer, his voice breathless, rough.
You smile, dragging your hands up his thighs as you pull back just enough to whisper, "Just let it go when you feel like it. Swallowing is not a big deal to me "
His eyes snap open, dark and hazy as he looks down at you. There's a pause, his lips parting slightly, and for a moment, you think he might actually hesitate. But then his fingers tighten in your hair, his gaze burning into yours as he rasps, "I–I can't do that."
A thrill rushes through you at his words, at the sheer need in his voice. You hum in satisfaction, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against his hip before resuming your pace, taking your time, savoring every reaction he gives you.
Hyunjin curses under his breath, his hand slipping from your hair to cradle the side of your face instead, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze never wavers, never strays from you, even as his breaths turn ragged, even as his body tenses beneath your touch.
"I'm about to come" he murmurs, his voice strained, almost desperate.
You glance up at him again, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile before pushing him just a little further, just enough to make him lose himself completely.
And when he does—when his body stiffens and his lips part in a silent gasp, his head tipping back as pleasure overtakes him—you know you've won.
You feel his release floods your tongue, hot and distinctly salty, filling your mouth. Then, silence. The only sounds left in the room are your steady breathing and his own ragged exhales.
When he finally dares to look at you, his eyes widen in horror as he sees you sticking your tongue out just enough to show him the white sheen of his seed before you swallow it all down your throat.
The sight stirs something deep within him that he reaches for you and roughly presses a kiss on your lips, his tongue pries open your mouth until you let him taste the remnants of himself on your tongue. Once he pulled away from the kiss, reality dawns on him. His flushed face deepens in color, and he quickly brings a hand to his face, covering his eyes as if that would make the situation disappear.
“Oh my God—” he mutters, voice filled with mortification as he sees a drop of his release landed on your chin. “I— I didn’t mean to—”
You blink at him before breaking into a soft laugh, reaching for a tissue nearby. “Hey, it’s fine.”
But he groans, shaking his head, clearly struggling with embarrassment. “No, it’s not! That was— I should have warned you—”
You smile, dabbing at your skin, before tilting your head at him. “You were a little too lost in the moment. I get it.”
Hyunjin groans again, this time burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this…”
Shifting closer, you gently pull his hands away from his face, meeting his flustered gaze with warmth. “Relax. It’s not a big deal.”
He exhales slowly, still clearly embarrassed, but your reassurance eases him slightly. He watches as you clean up without a hint of discomfort, and for some reason, that makes his heart squeeze a little.
You nudge his knee playfully. “If anything, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
You simply grin, standing up and holding your hand out at him. “Come on, let's shower before you start overthinking this to death.”
With a sigh, he follows, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what just happened—but there’s something else in his eyes too. A flicker of something deeper, something more than just physical attraction. And as he watches you head toward the bathroom, he realizes just how dangerous it is to let himself feel that way.
-
It's a successful first shoot with Hyunjin.
Even though he handled the camera like a pro, guiding you through poses and capturing you in the most flattering ways, the moment things shifted—when you turned the tables on him—he completely fell apart. And now, despite how smooth he usually tries to be, he can't stop being embarrassed about how he lost control, especially about how he came in your mouth and your face.
You think about it as warm water cascades down your body, the memory playing in your mind like a highlight reel. The way his breath hitched, the way his hands trembled against your skin, and especially the way his face turned crimson afterward, looking utterly wrecked yet so, so cute. You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head.
Hyunjin—always composed, always confident—reduced to a flustered mess because of you. You’ll never let him live this down.
After finishing your shower, you throw on something comfortable and head out to the dining area, where Hyunjin is already setting the table. His hair escaping the loose ponytail, and he's deliberately avoiding your gaze, focusing too hard on arranging the plates.
You slide into your seat, watching him for a moment before smirking. "You know… technically, I already had an appetizer before dinner."
He freezes mid-motion, his shoulders tensing. He slowly looks up, eyes wary. "Huh?"
You take a sip of your drink, feigning innocence. "I mean, I had a little taste of you before we sat down to eat."
His entire face turns red. He immediately drops his chopsticks, groaning as he buries his face in his hands. "Oh my God."
You burst into laughter, unable to help yourself. "Why are you acting so shy now? You weren’t shy earlier."
Hyunjin peeks at you between his fingers, shooting you a look of pure suffering. "I hate you."
"No, you don’t," you tease, grinning. "If anything, you loved it."
He groans again, leaning back in his chair dramatically. "You're not going to let me live this down, aren’t you?"
Despite himself, Hyunjin breaks into a helpless smile, shaking his head. As you both settle into comfortable conversation, the teasing lingers in the air—a reminder of just how much the dynamic between you is shifting, whether either of you is ready to admit it or not.
As you finish cleaning up after dinner, you grab an envelope from the counter and hand it to Hyunjin. "Your pay for this month," you say with a smile.
Hyunjin takes it, grinning as he flips it between his fingers. "Ah, my hard-earned money," he jokes, tucking it into his pocket. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he leans forward slightly. "Since I’m less broke now, how about I treat you to a movie tomorrow? There’s this screening I wanted to check out."
You chuckle at his enthusiasm but shake your head. "I’d love to, but I already have plans for tomorrow."
He tilts his head, curious. "Oh? Where are you going?"
You set your chopsticks down, wiping your lips before answering, "I'm going to my friend’s wedding."
His expression shifts slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Is it the one friend you were avoiding back at the restaurant?"
You nod. "Yep. That one."
He blinks, clearly surprised. "I thought you weren’t going."
You shrug. "At first, yeah. But then I thought… why not?"
Hyunjin nods slowly, as if processing your words. But you don’t miss the way his shoulders drop slightly, or how he suddenly seems more focused on the remaining food in his bowl. He’s disappointed. You don’t point it out, but you notice it.
"Sounds fun," he says, his voice light, but there’s something subdued in it.
You watch him for a moment, then smirk. "You sound like you’re sulking."
He scoffs, sitting up straighter. "Me? Sulking? Never."
You arch an eyebrow, amused. "You’re literally stabbing your rice right now."
He looks down at his bowl, realizing how aggressively he’s been poking at the food. Clearing his throat, he sets his chopsticks down and leans back in his chair. "I just think my plans sounded cooler, that’s all."
You laugh, shaking your head. "I’ll make it up to you, okay?"
Hyunjin pouts slightly, but the teasing glint in his eyes gives him away. "You better," he mutters, stealing one of your dumplings as revenge.
-
The morning sun shines through the high windows of the apartment building as Hyunjin walks back from the farmer's market, a bag of fresh produce in one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other. The scent of them—sweet and delicate—lingers in the air, and he glances down at them, suddenly second-guessing himself.
Was this a bad idea?
He doesn’t know what compelled him to pick them up. Maybe it was the way they reminded him of you. Maybe it was just a habit—bringing home something nice, something that adds a little warmth to a space. Either way, he now stands in front of your door, unsure if you've already left for the wedding. A part of him hopes you have, just so he doesn’t have to go through the embarrassment of handing you flowers like some lovestruck fool.
Before he can turn around and retreat to his apartment, the door swings open. You're standing there, already dressed for the wedding, a bright smile greeting him.
"Oh, morning, Hyunjin!" you say, sounding rushed yet cheerful as you step aside to let him in.
He planned to just hand you the flowers and go. But now, with the door wide open and you ushering him in without a second thought, he finds himself stepping inside, still holding the bouquet a little awkwardly.
You move back toward your vanity, where your makeup is halfway done, brushes and compacts scattered across the table. "Sorry, I’m running a little late," you say, adjusting your earrings in the mirror. "What’s up?"
Clearing his throat, Hyunjin lifts the flowers. "I, uh… brought these for you."
You turn, eyes widening in surprise before a teasing smile tugs at your lips. "Flowers? For me? What’s the occasion?"
He shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. "No occasion. Just thought you’d like them."
You take them from his hands, inhaling their fresh scent before flashing him a soft, genuine smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you, Hyunjin."
Seeing you flustered for once makes him feel a little less embarrassed. "I'll put them in a vase for you," he offers, not wanting to stand there while you get ready.
"That’d be great," you say, turning back to the mirror to finish up.
As Hyunjin moves around your kitchen, filling a vase with water, he sneaks glances at you. The way you carefully apply the last touches to your hair, the way the dress hugs your figure just right—it all captivates him. Then, you turn around, smiling brightly at him.
"How do I look?" you ask.
Hyunjin quickly averts his gaze, setting the vase down on the counter as if that requires all his attention. He swallows. "You look… beautiful."
Your smile softens. "Thank you."
Before the moment lingers too long, your phone rings, breaking the air of quiet admiration. You pick it up quickly, saying, "Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute," before ending the call.
Hyunjin assumes someone is picking you up and he also takes that as his cue to leave.
As you both step out of your apartment, he lingers for a moment before saying, "Have fun at the wedding."
You flash him one last grateful smile. "I will. Thanks again for the flowers, Hyunjin."
Hyunjin steps into his apartment, closing the door behind him with a quiet sigh. He toes off his shoes and runs a hand through his hair, shaking off the lingering feeling of something he can't quite name.
But as he walks toward the window, curiosity tugs at him. He tells himself he's only looking to see what kind of car picks you up—maybe a fancy one, maybe not. But when he spots the vehicle pulling up in front of the building, what catches his attention isn't the car at all.
It's the person stepping out of it. Felix.
Hyunjin hadn’t expected that. You’re going to the wedding with Felix?
The thought alone stirs something uneasy inside him, but he pushes it aside, watching as you step out of the building. He tells himself that’s the end of it, that he should look away, go about his day. But then—
You walk straight into Felix’s arms, slipping into his embrace like it’s second nature. Despite the tightening feeling in his chest, Hyunjin watches as Felix leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek before opening the passenger door for you. You slip inside easily, smiling up at him before he shuts the door and rounds the car to the driver’s side.
Hyunjin lets out a sharp breath, rubbing his hand over his face as if to wipe away the thoughts creeping into his mind. What was he even expecting?
A part of him wants to shake it off, to go about his day like this means nothing. But another part of him—one he’s not quite ready to acknowledge—already knows that today, for the first time, he’s feeling something he shouldn’t.
Jealousy.
He scoffs under his breath, shaking his head at himself. Then, without another glance at the window, he turns on his heel and walks away, leaving the room in silence.
-
✨ Chapter III of Cam is available on my Patreon page ✨
Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!
Synopsis: Struggling to make ends meet as an art student, Hyunjin never expected his quiet neighbor to change everything. Rumored to be an adult content creator, you offer him a deal—help you with your content, and you’ll help with his financial troubles. What starts as a simple arrangement soon blurs into something more, pulling Hyunjin into a world he never imagined. (24k words)
Author's note: I know, I know, it's another painter Hyunjin fic but I hope you enjoy this one too. Let me know what you think of it ♡
Hyunjin has always believed that art could save him. It’s the one thing that makes him feel alive, the one thing he’s truly good at. But lately, all it does is remind him of how little he has.
His apartment is nearly empty, stripped down to the bare essentials. Over the past few months, he’s sold most of his belongings—his desk, his chair, even the tiny bookshelf he once crammed with art books and sketchpads. Now, the only things left are his mattress on the floor and his paintings, propped against the walls like silent witnesses to his struggle.
He studies at one of the most prestigious art schools in the country, but that means nothing when he can barely afford rent. The part-time job at the movie theater helps, but scooping popcorn into greasy paper buckets isn’t enough to keep him afloat. He works long hours for little pay, and still, it’s never enough.
His gaze drifts to one of his canvases—a half-finished painting of a cityscape, the brushstrokes raw and expressive. He started it weeks ago, but inspiration feels like a luxury he can’t afford anymore. His stomach twists at the thought. What’s the point of talent if it can’t even keep him fed?
Hyunjin sits on the floor, legs crossed, a cup of steaming instant noodles balanced on his knee. The scent of artificial broth and sodium fills the air, but he barely tastes it as he absentmindedly twirls the noodles around his chopsticks. It’s the third night in a row he’s had this for dinner—not that he has much of a choice.
His gaze drifts back to the unfinished painting, the cityscape frozen in an incomplete haze of blues and grays. It’s supposed to be vibrant, full of movement, but instead, it just looks… stuck. Much like him.
He exhales sharply, pressing his lips together. The phrase echoes in his head, one he’s heard too many times before. A starving artist. He never thought he’d actually become one, but here he is—living proof of the cliché. Talented enough to get into an elite school, yet broke enough to be eating noodles on the floor of his half-empty apartment.
Hyunjin scoffs under his breath, stabbing at the noodles with his chopsticks. If this is what chasing a dream looks like, he wonders how much longer he can keep running.
Eventually, he forces himself to lie down, stretching out on the thin mattress. The cold seeps through the blankets, and the dim light from the streetlamp outside spills through the window, casting long shadows on the walls. His paintings watch over him in silence, the only company he has.
Sleep doesn’t come easily, but when it does, he dreams. Not of money, not of success, but of color. Brushstrokes filling in the empty spaces, shapes coming to life beneath his hands. In his dreams, his paintings are complete, vibrant, whole. And for a little while, he forgets what it feels like to be starving.
-
The road blurs past you in streaks of neon and streetlights, but you barely notice. Your hands grip the steering wheel a little too tight, jaw clenched as you replay the night over and over in your head. The music playing from your phone barely registers—just background noise to the mess of thoughts swirling inside you.
By the time you pull into your apartment’s parking lot, exhaustion settles into your bones. You climb out of the car, shutting the door with more force than necessary, and trudge upstairs. The hallway is quiet, the dim glow of the overhead lights flickering slightly, as if even the building itself is tired.
Inside, you don’t bother turning on the lights. You kick off your shoes, letting them land wherever, and collapse onto your bed. The sheets are cool against your skin, a small comfort in the storm brewing inside you. You shut your eyes, pressing the heels of your palms against them, willing yourself to hold it in.
But it’s no use. The weight in your chest swells, throat tightening as the emotions you’ve been shoving down all night claw their way up. A shaky breath escapes you. The burning behind your eyes grows unbearable. Just as you’re about to let the tears fall—
Ding. Your phone vibrates beside you. Once. Twice. Then again. You inhale sharply, the moment shattered. Swiping at your eyes, you roll over and grab your phone, blinking at the bright screen.
Lustre: New Notifications. Your vision clears just enough to read them. "Damn, baby, you looked so good in your last set. I swear, you’re my dream girl. Just say the word, and I’m yours."
A strangled laugh bubbles up, humorless and tired. If only they knew. If only they could see you now—mascara smudged, hair a mess, curled up in a hoodie like you’re trying to disappear.
Another buzz. More notifications. Your subscriber count is growing, which is good. You need it to be good. You force a smile, even if no one can see it, and type back a response.
"Aw, you’re so sweet! You always know how to make me smile."
A lie. But a necessary one. You hit send, set your phone down, and stare at the ceiling. Tonight, you don’t have the energy to be her—the version of you that they adore. But you will tomorrow.
-
The morning air is crisp, cool against your skin as you push yourself forward, feet hitting the pavement in steady rhythm. Music blasts through your headphones, drowning out the world, the steady beat fueling your movements. The run clears your head. It always does.
By the time you circle back to your apartment building, your pulse is steady, and the weight from last night feels a little lighter. Your body still hums from the run, but your mind is already shifting to the rest of your day. Routine. Work. Content.
Grabbing a glass from the counter, you fill it with water and take slow sips, letting yourself cool down. Absentmindedly, you reach for your phone and tap open Lustre.
The numbers are down. Subscriptions lower than yesterday. You exhale through your nose, trying not to let frustration creep in. Drops happen—it’s part of the game. But still, it stings. You need to do something. A new photoset? A livestream? Something to remind your audience why they subscribed in the first place. You’re still scrolling, running through ideas, when a sudden bang startles you.
"Hey! Open up!" The voice—sharp, impatient—cuts through the thin walls. You freeze mid-sip, eyes flicking toward your front door.
Another knock. Louder. "This is your landlord. Open the door."
You set your glass down and step closer to your own door, listening.
"You haven’t paid rent for three months," the landlord’s voice is tense, clipped. "This is your last warning, kid. Either you get me your three-month late rent money, or you’re out by the end of the week."
The neighbor you’ve barely spoken to—hasn’t paid rent in months. And if he doesn’t, he’s gone. You don’t know him, not really, but you know that kind of struggle. The kind where the walls feel like they’re closing in, where survival is a month-to-month gamble. And you know, somehow, that you could do something about it. But what?
You step back from the door, shaking your head. It’s not your problem. Still, as you finish your water and try to move on with your day, the thought lingers.
-
You sit cross-legged on your bed, laptop open in front of you, fingers idly scrolling through Lustre’s homepage. The interface is sleek, minimal, designed to make content easily accessible for subscribers. At a glance, everything looks normal—your page is still active, your past posts still getting engagement, but the numbers don’t lie.
Lustre works on a subscription model, where people pay monthly to access exclusive content from their favorite creators. The more they tip, the more they get—custom requests, private messages, even personalized videos if they’re willing to shell out enough. Some creators lean into the interactive side, chatting with their subscribers, selling a fantasy beyond just photos and videos. Others keep it strictly business, posting and logging off. You fall somewhere in between. Your content is polished but personal, curated to keep your audience hooked. Some days, it’s suggestive selfies with teasing captions. Other times, it’s short videos—close-up shots, soft lighting, all carefully edited to appear effortless. You’re careful with what you show, what you reveal. Enough to keep them interested, but not enough to let them in. And it pays well. More than well. You make enough to live comfortably, covering rent, groceries, and little indulgences without stress. But the industry is fickle. To sustain this lifestyle, you need a steady flow of subscribers. You can’t afford to plateau.
You tap your fingers against your thigh, thinking. Maybe a collaboration could help. You pull up your contacts and dial a number. It only rings twice before a familiar voice answers.
“Hey, babe,” Sienna greets, her tone smooth and easy. “Long time no talk.”
You smirk. “I know. That’s why I’m calling. I was thinking we could do something together soon—a collab, maybe a themed shoot?”
She hums thoughtfully. “I’d love to, but I’m out of town for a bit. Give me a couple of weeks?”
Damn. You were hoping for something sooner. Still, you nod, even though she can’t see you. “Yeah, of course. Let me know when you’re back.”
“Will do. And don’t stress too much—I’m sure you’ll come up with something killer in the meantime.”
After a few more pleasantries, you hang up and toss your phone onto the bed. You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. She’s right. You’ll figure something out. You always do. But what?
Your fingers drift to your laptop, scrolling through old posts, past content that once pulled in waves of subscribers. You need something fresh, something that’ll make people want to hit that subscribe button again.
As your mind runs through ideas, an image flashes in your head—Your neighbor, Hyunjin, struggling with the rent, the landlord’s voice sharp with warning. You shake your head, forcing the thought away. No. Not that. Not yet. For now, you need to focus. You take a deep breath and start drafting your next post.
-
Hyunjin rolls his shoulders as he steps into the apartment building, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. The lingering scent of butter and artificial cheese clings to his clothes, a reminder of another long shift at the movie theater. His feet ache, his stomach feels hollow, and all he wants is to collapse onto his mattress and pretend the world doesn’t exist. But then he sees you.
You’re sitting on the stairs leading up to the floors, elbows resting on your knees, scrolling through your phone. When you hear the door shut behind him, you glance up, a slow, easy smile stretching across your lips.
“Hey, neighbor.”
Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard. You’ve never really talked beyond polite nods in passing. And yet, you look at him like this is normal—like you’ve been waiting for him.
“Uh, hey,” he says, shifting his weight awkwardly.
You stand, slipping your phone into your pocket. “I was just about to grab a bite. Wanna come with?”
He hesitates. He shouldn’t. He’s tired. And he definitely doesn’t have the money to be eating out. But before he can find a way to politely refuse, you tilt your head, eyes twinkling with something close to amusement.
“I promise I’m not contagious,” you teasingly say. “And it's my treat.”
Hyunjin swallows. His pride tells him to decline. But his stomach—empty and twisting with hunger—betrays him. It’s been days since he’s had anything close to a real meal, and the idea of warm food that isn’t instant noodles makes his resolve waver.
“…Are you sure?” he asks quietly.
Your smile softens. “Yeah. Come on.”
And against his better judgment, he follows you out the door.
-
Hyunjin walks beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, the cool night air nipping at his skin. He keeps his gaze forward, but his thoughts are on you. He doesn’t know much about you. Not really.
You’re his neighbor, living just down the hall, and from what he can tell, you mostly keep to yourself. He sees you in passing—coming and going at odd hours, always with an easy smile but a guarded presence. You’re friendly, but never too familiar. Open, but never inviting. But if there’s one thing he does know, it’s the rumors.
Everyone in the building does. The whispered conversations in the stairwells, the way some of the older tenants lower their voices when your name comes up. They say you make money online, that men pay for glimpses of you, that you sell something intangible but addictive.
Hyunjin never cared much for gossip, never saw the point in judging someone for how they survive. But still, the stories linger. And now, walking beside you, he wonders—how much of it is true?
The restaurant is small but cozy, tucked between a convenience store and a laundromat. Hyunjin watches as you glance over the menu, tapping your fingers against the laminated surface. When the server comes by, you order effortlessly, like you’ve been here a dozen times before. He just follows your lead, picking something simple.
As the server walks away, you lean forward, resting your chin on your palm. “So,” you start, “what’s it like working at the movies?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“Fine?” You arch a brow. “You spend your nights surrounded by popcorn and butter, and all you have to say is ‘fine’?”
A small huff of laughter escapes him. He glances down at his hoodie, still faintly smelling like the concession stand. “Well, if you like the scent of popcorn butter, I guess it’s great.”
You hum thoughtfully, then smirk. “I think you smell delicious.”
He freezes while you grin, like you know exactly what you just did, and he clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Uh. Thanks?”
Your laugh is soft, but it lingers. “So, what about your art? You go to that art school, right?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s… tough. Competitive.”
“But worth it?”
He hesitates. Once, he would have said yes without thinking. But now, with the weight of overdue rent and empty pockets pressing down on him, the answer isn’t so simple. Still, he nods again. “Yeah. It is.”
You study him for a moment, then tilt your head. “You know, you can ask me stuff too.”
You smile, patient, waiting. But his throat tightens. He doesn’t know what to ask. Or rather, he does, but he isn’t sure if he should. So he stays quiet.
The silence lingers between you, but you don’t seem bothered by it. If anything, you look amused, like you already know what’s on his mind.
So, before he can even think about asking, you beat him to it. “You know,” you start, swirling your straw in your drink, “the things people say about me? They’re true.”
He is once again caught off guard by your bluntness. You tilt your head slightly, watching him carefully. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No.” He leans back, arms crossed loosely. “I mean it. I don’t care what you do. People are free to do whatever they want.”
For the first time tonight, your smirk fades, replaced by something softer—something tired. You glance down at your drink, tapping your nails against the glass. Then you sigh, lips curving into a wistful smile. “Why can’t everyone be just like you?”
Hyunjin doesn’t have an answer for that. So, he just sits there, watching as you lift your glass to your lips, like you’ve already accepted that most people never will be.
-
Dinner carries on with a quiet sort of ease. There’s no rush, no forced conversation—just the occasional clink of utensils and the distant hum of restaurant chatter. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the silence. In fact, he prefers it. It’s easier than fumbling through words, easier than pretending he doesn’t notice the way you watch him, like you’re debating something in your head.
By the time you both step out into the night, the air is cooler, crisp with the promise of an approaching autumn. The walk back to the apartment is slow, neither of you in a hurry to get home. Then, just as you reach the building, you speak. “I, um… I heard you with the landlord today.” You pause, glancing at him carefully before continuing. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. It just… happened.”
He exhales, shoulders tensing, but keeps his expression neutral. “It’s fine.”
“I just—” You hesitate, then steel yourself. “Are you okay?”
He clenches his jaw. “I’ll deal with it.”
You nod slowly, accepting his answer. Then, after a beat, you add, “Well… if you ever need help with anything, you can come to me.”
It’s a simple offer, one spoken with sincerity, but something in Hyunjin bristles at it. “I don’t need help,” he says, a little too quickly. A little too sharp.
You blink, surprised by the sudden edge in his voice. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, your expression shifts—closing off, retreating into something unreadable. “…Okay,” you say, voice softer now.
Arriving in your shared floor, you and Hyunjin naturally slow down, each lingering at your respective doors. There’s an unspoken finality in the air, a quiet end to the night.
Just as you reach for the handle, Hyunjin speaks up. “Hey.”
You pause, glancing back at him, one hand lingers on the handle of the door.
He shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. For the meal.” His voice is quieter than before, but there’s a rare sincerity in it. “I appreciate it.”
A slow smile curves your lips, one that softens the tension that had settled between you earlier. “Anytime,” you say, then tilt your head. “Goodnight.”
Before he can respond, you slip inside your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you. Hyunjin exhales and turns to his own door, pushing it open and stepping into the dimly lit space. The quiet greets him immediately—no TV, no background noise, just the faint hum of the city outside his window. As he kicks off his shoes and sets his bag down, his mind drifts back to your conversation. To the way you had offered to help. To the way he had snapped. He groans under his breath, rubbing his hands over his face. Was he rude? He probably was. He should have apologized. But it’s too late now.
With a sigh, he sinks onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. The weight of everything—rent, work, school—presses down on him, but somewhere beneath it, there’s also the memory of your fading smile when he strongly refused your help. And for some reason, that lingers the longest.
-
The end of the week creeps up on Hyunjin faster than he’d like. Despite working extra shifts at the theater and even considering selling a few more of his paintings, he still doesn’t have enough to cover the three months of overdue rent. He’s close—but close isn’t enough. So, with a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach, he makes his way to his landlord’s apartment. His plan is simple: offer to pay half now and ask for more time to cover the rest. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best he can do.
When the landlord opens the door, Hyunjin clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Sir, I wanted to talk about my rent—”
“Already taken care of,” the landlord interrupts, arms crossed.
Hyunjin blinks. “What?”
“Paid in full,” the landlord says, eyeing him suspiciously. “Didn’t think you had it in you to come up with that much money so quickly.”
A strange sensation washes over Hyunjin. His mind races, piecing things together before he even has to ask. There’s only one person who would do this. His jaw tightens. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. Without another word, he turns on his heel, heart pounding, already making his way to your apartment.
-
A sharp, insistent banging on your door pulls you from your thoughts as you’re enjoying your breakfast. You barely have time to process before Hyunjin’s voice comes through. “It’s me, your neighbor.”
You sigh, already knowing what this is about. When you unlock the door and pull it open, Hyunjin stands there, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, jaw tight with frustration. “You paid my rent,” he says, cutting straight to the point. His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s holding himself back from saying more.
You step aside and open the door wider to let him in. “Please, come in.”
He hesitates for a moment before stepping past you, his presence filling the small space of your apartment. You close the door behind him, watching as he runs a hand through his dark hair, clearly trying to collect himself. “I didn’t ask for your help,” he says, turning to face you. His eyes are sharp, his expression a mix of frustration and something else—something unsure.
You remain calm, leaning back against the counter. “I know you didn’t.”
“Then why did you do it?”
You exhale, keeping your voice even. “Because I wanted to.”
He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not a reason.”
“Does there have to be one?” you counter. “I had the money. You needed it.”
“I don’t want charity,” he snaps.
“It’s not charity,” you say calmly. “I’m not giving you the money for free.”
Hyunjin stops short, confusion flickering in his eyes. “…What do you mean?”
You walk past him, grabbing two cans from your fridge and offering him one. He takes it hesitantly, watching you warily as you settle onto the couch. After a beat, he sits down too, though his posture is still tense. “I want you to work for it,” you say simply.
He raises a brow. “Doing what?”
You take a sip of your drink before setting it down. “You know what I do, right?”
The rumors have been around for a while but again, he's not one to care about other people's business. His jaw tenses slightly, but he nods.
“I create content for Lustre,” you continue. “It’s a subscription-based platform where people pay for exclusive content. My content is... adult-oriented, but it’s more than just that.”
Hyunjin looks down at the can of drink he's been holding in his hand, letting you continue.
“I don’t just post random pictures or videos,” you explain. “I put effort into making everything look good. I plan my shoots, choose my outfits carefully, pay attention to lighting, angles, and themes. It’s about aesthetics as much as anything else.”
Hyunjin listens, his fingers tapping against the can in his hands.
“I need fresh content,” you continue. “Something more artistic, more professional. My subscriber count has been dropping, and I need to do something about it. That’s where you come in.”
He's clearly thrown off. “…Me?”
“You’re an artist,” you say. “You understand composition, lighting, angles. You could help me take my content to the next level.”
He stares at you, processing. Then, he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “So let me get this straight. You paid my rent, and in return, you want me to work for you, to take pictures of you… for Lustre?”
You meet his gaze steadily. “Yes.”
He lets out a laugh—disbelieving, maybe a little incredulous. “This is insane.”
You take a small sip of your drink and grin. “Well, just a little.”
Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. He just sits there, staring at the floor, fingers still lightly drumming against his drink. You don’t push him. You know he needs time. But the idea is planted and now, all you have to do is wait.
-
Hyunjin drags his brush across the canvas, but the bristles are frayed, splitting at the edges. He dips it into the last bit of his acrylic paint, scraping the bottom of the tube to get whatever’s left. It’s barely enough. His fingers tighten around the brush as he pulls back to examine his work. The colors aren’t blending the way he wants, and it’s not because of his technique—it’s because his supplies are running out. He needs new brushes, fresh paint, better canvases. But all of that costs money—money he doesn’t have.
A sigh escapes him just as a classmate, Edgar, calls his name. “Hyunjin, you coming?”
He looks up to see one of his friends slinging their bag over their shoulder, waiting for him. He knows what they’re asking—everyone’s heading out to grab food, maybe unwind a little after a long day of classes. He wishes he could say yes.
“Nah, I’ve got work,” he says, wiping his hands on his already paint-stained jeans.
Edgar gives him a look, somewhere between pity and understanding. “You work too much, man.”
Hyunjin forces a small smile. “Tell that to my landlord.”
The conversation ends there. Edgar gives him a pat on the shoulder before leaving, and Hyunjin watches them go, reminding him of what he's missed when he's busy making ends meet
By the time he gets to the movie theater, he’s already drained. The hours crawl by as he scoops popcorn, wipes down counters, and pretends not to hear customers complaining about overpriced snacks. His manager is breathing down his neck, calling him back whenever he tries to sneak a second of rest. The pay isn’t worth it. The stress isn’t worth it. By the end of his shift, he’s had enough. As he walks home, his fingers curl into fists at his sides. His mind keeps circling back to your offer, the one he brushed off at first. But now, with his bills piling up and his art suffering because he can’t afford the basics, it doesn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.
Since no one is answering the door, Hyunjin decides to sit on the steps that leads to your shared floor, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely interlocked. The night air is cool, and the faint hum of the city fills the space around him, but his mind is loud—circling, overthinking, hesitating.
When he sees you appearing on the steps, he straightens up, nerves buzzing. You don’t notice him at first, distracted as you dig through your bag, but when you lift your head, your brows raise slightly in surprise.
Hyunjin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he says, “I’ll do it.”
You blink at him as you slowly pull your hand out of your bag, the keys jingling between your fingers. “Do what?”
He looks up at you, eyes unreadable. “The job.”
For a second, you just stare at him, as if making sure you heard right. Then, your lips curve into the smallest smirk. “Took you long enough.”
Hyunjin doesn’t laugh. He just nods once, his jaw tight, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “Just tell me when we start.”
You tilt your head, considering him. Then, you nod toward the stairs. “Let’s talk about it at my place.”
Hyunjin sits stiffly on the edge of your sofa, fingers drumming against his knee as he watches you disappear into the kitchen. He’s still not sure how he ended up here so quickly. Just an hour ago, he was still trying to convince himself he could make things work on his own. Now, he’s about to get a firsthand look at exactly what he signed up for.
You return with a can of drink, holding it out to him. “Here,” you say, settling beside him on the sofa.
“Thanks,” he mutters, popping the tab. The cool fizz against his throat does nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders.
You grab your laptop from the side table and place it on the coffee table in front of you, opening it up with practiced ease. “Okay,” you say, “before we get into details, I think you should see what you’re working with.”
Hyunjin nods hesitantly, watching as you pull up your page on Lustre. The sleek layout fills the screen, and the first thing that catches his eye is your profile picture—a sultry but tasteful shot of you draped in soft, golden light, wearing nothing but a loosely tied silk robe. Your bio is playful, teasing, with a winking emoji at the end. Then, you scroll down. His eyes catch on the rows of thumbnails displaying your content. His face heats up instantly.
There are suggestive selfies, carefully posed yet intimate—close-up shots of your lips slightly parted, your fingers toying with the hem of a lace bralette. Some photos show you in bed, bathed in dim lighting, the sheets barely covering your bare skin. Others are more artistic, using shadows and colors to frame your body in ways that feel sensual but not overtly explicit.
Then there are the videos. His breath catches slightly when he sees the previews—short clips of you adjusting the straps of your lingerie, slow movements of fabric sliding down your shoulders, the flicker of a smirk before the video cuts off. He clenches his jaw, eyes darting anywhere but the screen.
You notice immediately. “Are you blushing?” you tease, tilting your head to look at him.
“No,” he lies, voice tight.
You lean in slightly and playfully bump his shoulder with yours, amusement dancing in your eyes. “You are.”
Hyunjin huffs out a breath, staring at a random spot on the wall. “I just—” He gestures vaguely at the screen. “I wasn’t expecting to see… all that.”
You chuckle, scrolling through the page like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “You’re gonna have to get used to it. If you’re taking my pictures, you’re gonna see a lot more than just thumbnails.”
Hyunjin swallows. Hard. You watch him struggle for a second before laughing softly. “Relax,” you say, nudging his knee with yours. “I promise I won’t bite.”
Despite your teasing, he keeps his gaze locked on the laptop screen as his mind starts to drift. It’s not just the content that has his heart hammering—it’s you. The way you carry yourself, the way you look in your photos and videos. Confident. Beautiful. Completely at ease in your own skin. He wonders if you always look like that, or if it’s something you turn on for the camera. Either way, he can’t deny how stunning you are. He clears his throat, pushing those thoughts away before they can take root. “I like your content,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral.
You turn to him, raising a brow. “Oh?”
Realizing how that might’ve sounded, he quickly shakes his head. “I mean—! I didn’t mean it like—” He nervously rubs his lips. “I just meant that… you have a distinct taste. And you actually did great with the artistic elements. The lighting, the composition—it’s impressive.”
A slow smile spreads across your lips, and it’s different from the teasing ones you’ve given him before. This one is softer. Genuine. “Thank you,” you say, and Hyunjin feels a strange warmth settle in his chest.
He likes the way you’re smiling at him. Not in a way that’s meant to seduce or entertain, but like you actually appreciate his words. It makes him want to say more. To let you know that he really does admire what you’ve built for yourself, that there’s something captivating about you beyond the content you create but he thinks it's best to keep those thoughts to himself.
Your expression shifts, the playful teasing fading as you prop a hand under your chin. “So, what do you think?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “Any ideas for new content?”
Hyunjin exhales, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know… What do you usually do to prepare?”
You shrug. “I plan out the concept first, depending on the theme I want to go for. Then I figure out the setup—lighting, camera angles, outfits, or props if I need them. Once that’s done, I shoot everything myself, edit, and post.”
His eyes widen, surprised and impressed all at once. “You do all of that alone?”
“Yeah,” you say simply. “It’s a lot of work, but I’ve gotten used to it.”
He watches you for a moment, considering. “Then… why do you suddenly want me to work for you?”
A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Because I like your art.”
Hyunjin blinks, confused. “What?”
You lean back into the sofa, your eyes flickering with amusement at his reaction. “I saw some of your paintings before.”
That catches him off guard. His brows furrow in intrigue. “When?”
“When you moved into the building,” you admit. “I saw a few canvases when you were carrying them inside. I didn’t say anything back then, but I could tell they were good.”
Hyunjin grips the can in his hands a little tighter. No one’s ever said that to him before—not like that. Sure, his professors give him critiques, and his classmates throw around compliments in passing, but no one has ever told him they like his art in such a simple, assured way. And it’s not just empty flattery. You didn’t even need to say it. You could’ve just left it at needing a photographer, but instead, you told him you liked his work—like it meant something to you.
A strange warmth spreads in his chest, unfamiliar yet comforting. He clears his throat, willing away the feeling before it shows on his face. He keeps his gaze on the table, pretending to focus on the laptop screen. “So… what exactly do you want me to do?” he asks, keeping his voice steady.
You smile knowingly, as if you already saw through him. But instead of pushing, you shift back to business. “Let’s start by figuring out a new concept together.”
-
The bus ride to the hotel isn’t long, but it feels like it stretches forever. By the time he reaches the lobby, he’s convinced half the people he passed on the way somehow know where he’s going and why. It’s ridiculous, but the thought lingers as he takes the elevator up to the room number you texted him earlier. When he knocks, you open the door almost instantly. You’re wrapped in a plush white bathrobe, hair damp, skin fresh, like you just stepped out of the shower. The sight catches him off guard for a second, but he quickly averts his gaze.
“Hey,” you greet, stepping aside to let him in. “You made it.”
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, clearing his throat. He steps into the room, glancing around.
It’s a standard hotel setup—nothing fancy, just clean white sheets, warm lighting, and a minimalist design. But the setting certainly fits the concept for the shoot. His eyes land on the open suitcase in the corner, half-filled with outfits. He sets his backpack down and walks up to the camera bag you brought with you for the shoot. “Why a hotel, though?” he asks as he checks the settings. “Couldn’t you just do this at home?”
You walk over to the vanity, grabbing a few items from your makeup bag. “I don’t like filming in my apartment,” you say, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “It’s too personal.”
He tilts his head, waiting for you to explain, his fingers playing with the strap of the camera.
“There’s always a way for people to trace things back,” you continue. “Background details, windows, even furniture—some people are really good at figuring out locations. It’s safer to keep my personal space private.”
Hyunjin nods slowly, processing your words. He never thought about it that way, but it makes sense. The internet is full of people who dig into things they shouldn’t.
You turn around, giving him a small smile. “Besides, a change of scenery keeps things interesting.”
He swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of where he is and what’s about to happen. He focuses on adjusting the camera, forcing himself to ignore the fact that this is the closest he’s ever been to something like this and it’s only just beginning.
“What do you think?” You turn to him for input, gesture to your face as you finish applying a natural-looking makeup. “Too much?”
He looks up, taking in the soft glow on your cheeks, the tint of color on your lips. “It looks fine,” he says, then quickly corrects himself. “I mean—it suits you. Not too much, not too little.”
You nod, studying yourself in the mirror before shifting your focus back to your suitcase. “Okay, now the outfit.” You pull out a few options, holding them up for him to see. “Which one do you think works better for the concept?”
He wasn’t expecting to have this much say in things. “Uh…” He looks between the options—a loose white shirt on one hand, a form-fitting tank top in the other.
“The second one,” he finally says. “It kind of… I don’t know, fits the mood?”
You grin, pleased with his answer. “Good eye.”
Hyunjin watches as you move with purpose, preparing everything down to the smallest details. The way you adjust the lighting, make sure the background is uncluttered, and double-check your angles in the mirror—it’s meticulous, professional.
And it hits him. You’re not just going through the motions. You’re building something. Crafting an image, telling a story, making sure every little detail aligns with what you want to put out there.
Most people probably never think about that. They look at the surface, assume it’s easy money, that it’s just flashing skin for a paycheck. But standing here, watching you work, Hyunjin sees the reality of it. The planning, the effort, the sheer amount of control you have over every aspect—it’s impressive. And maybe it’s a little frustrating, too. Because you deserve to be seen for the work you put in, not just the end result.
The concept you both decided on was natural—soft lighting, simple outfits, nothing too forced or artificial. Just you, as you are.
Hyunjin adjusts the camera on the tripod, testing the focus as he glances at you. You sit on the edge of the bed, dressed in a white cotton tank top and matching underwear. The fabric clings to your body, and he has to remind himself to stay professional when he catches the faint outline of your nipples pressing against the thin material. He clears his throat, forcing himself to concentrate on the technical aspects—lighting, composition, framing.
“Alright,” he mutters to himself, taking a few test shots. He adjusts the settings, clicking through the images on the small screen. “It’s looking good so far.”
You stretch your legs out, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods, still checking the photos. “We should probably start now before we lose the light.”
He tries to focus on the viewfinder, but it’s hard when you’re looking at the camera like that. He knows you’re posing, that you’re looking straight into the lens, but something about your gaze makes his stomach flip. It’s like you’re seeing right through him, pulling him into something he’s not sure he’s ready for. He tells himself it’s just a job. Just art. Just another step in this strange new path he’s taken. So why does his pulse feel a little too fast?
“Uh—try sitting up a little,” he directs, shifting the angle. You move effortlessly, folding your legs beneath you as you rest your hands on your thighs. The sunlight filtering through the hotel curtains casts soft shadows over your skin, making everything look warmer, more intimate. He keeps clicking the shutter, his voice coming out steadier than he expected. “Now, lay back—yeah, just like that. Relax your arms a little.”
You follow his instructions with ease, stretching out over the bed, your hair fanning out over the pillows. He swallows hard, adjusting the focus, but something’s off. He lowers the camera, stepping closer. “Wait,” he murmurs.
You blink up at him as he hesitates, reaching out. “Your hair’s a little—” His fingers brush against your skin as he smooths out a few stray strands. Your eyes meet his for a split second, and suddenly, Hyunjin feels like the one under the lens.
He quickly steps back, gripping the camera tighter. “Okay. That’s better. Let’s keep going.”
Taking a quick break in between shots, Hyunjin scrolls through the photos with you, his shoulder almost brushing against yours as you sit together on the edge of the bed. The soft glow of the afternoon sun highlights the contours of your face as you lean in, eyes scanning over the shots on the camera screen.
“These are really good,” you say, nodding in approval. “You have a good eye.”
“It’s just the lighting,” he mutters, but deep down, he knows that’s not true.
There’s something about the way you carry yourself, the way you mold into the atmosphere so effortlessly .You hum in response, then, without warning, you reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head. You’re standing in front of him now, nothing but a pair of white underwear covering you, your bare skin illuminated by the soft sunlight.
His mind blanks. He’s seen bodies in art books, in sketches, in paintings—but this? This is something else entirely.
You glance at him, and when you see his face, you chuckle. “You should feel lucky, you know,” you tease, planting your hands on each side of your waist in an effortless display of confidence. “You get to see it for free.”
He blinks rapidly, snapping himself out of whatever daze he just fell into. He shifts his grip on the camera and clears his throat. “Right,” he says again, trying to focus on adjusting the settings instead of the warmth crawling up his neck. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”
You smirk, stepping back onto the bed as if nothing happened. But Hyunjin? He knows this job just got a lot harder. He swallows hard as you slide the last remaining piece of clothing down your hips and let it fall off the bed.
Now, you’re completely bare and shift onto your stomach, propping yourself up slightly with your elbows. Your legs stretch out behind you, one knee bent just enough to create a natural curve in your body. It’s an effortless pose, something he might’ve seen in a Renaissance painting, and the soft lighting only adds to the surrealism of it all.
You turn your head toward him, eyes lidded with a knowing look. “What do you think?”
Hyunjin barely hears you over the pounding in his ears. His gaze flickers between the camera and your form, and before he can stop himself, the words slip past his lips. “You’re beautiful.”
You chuckle, the sound light and teasing. “I meant my pose, but thanks.”
“Yeah, uh...” he stammer, pretending to adjust the camera settings to mask his flustered state. “The pose is… good. But maybe lift your chin a little. And turn just a bit more toward the light.”
You do as he says, stretching slightly, shifting your body in a way that somehow makes everything even more alluring. And then—
You push yourself up from the bed, completely unbothered by your nudity as you walk toward the floor-to-ceiling window, where the sheer white curtains billow slightly from the gentle breeze.
The afternoon light filters through the fabric, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. He keeps his camera steady, but his breath catches in his throat when you glance over your shoulder at him. “How about this?” you ask, fingers brushing over the delicate material. “You can shoot me from behind the curtain. The light will create a silhouette effect.”
He quietly inhales air, nodding stiffly. “Yeah. That’s… that’s a great idea.”
You step behind the sheer fabric, the sunlight casting your figure in a diffused glow. The curtain clings to your form in places, outlining the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the gentle swell of your hips.
He adjusts the lens, his fingers moving on autopilot as he frames the shot. Click. Through the camera, he watches the way your arms move, the way your fingers skim over your bare skin as you shift slightly. The light makes everything look softer—your body, your skin, your presence.
Hyunjin shouldn’t be staring. Shouldn’t be imagining what it would feel like to trace those curves with his hands instead of just his eyes. He forces himself to focus, adjusting his stance as he takes another shot. Then another.
After a moment, you step out from behind the sheer curtain, hugging yourself as you sigh. “I think that’s a wrap for today.”
He immediately lowers the camera and practically scrambles to grab your bathrobe from the chair. He thrusts it toward you without making eye contact, his ears tinged pink. “Here.”
You let out a soft laugh as you slip your arms into the robe but don’t bother tying it just yet. “You must be really bothered by my body.”
Hyunjin nearly chokes on nothing. “W-What?”
You grin at his reaction, tilting your head as you watch him struggle for a response.
His fingers tighten around the camera strap, his jaw working as he fumbles for words. “I-I just thought you might be cold,” he mutters, eyes darting to the side.
You chuckle, tying the robe loosely around your waist. “I’m just messing with you.”
He exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, still refusing to meet your gaze. But even as he busies himself with the camera, you catch the way his hands shake just slightly. You smirk to yourself. Hyunjin is cute when he’s flustered.
“Okay, enough with work,” You step closer to him and gently take the camera from his hands, setting it down on the table. Before he can protest, you grab the room service menu and place it in his hands instead. “Pick something for dinner.”
He's looking down at the menu as if it’s something foreign in his hands. “Wait—I don’t—”
“You have to eat, right?” you cut in before he can argue. “And besides, having dinner with me is part of the job.”
His brows furrow. “How is that part of the job?”
“You worked hard today. I take care of my crew,” you simply answer.
He huffs a small laugh. “Crew? It’s just me.”
“All the more reason to take care of you.” You cross your arms, smirking. “Now, pick something before I do it for you.”
He looks at you for a moment, as if debating whether or not to fight you on this. But in the end, he sighs in defeat and flips open the menu.
-
As you scroll through the photos on your laptop, a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. You knew Hyunjin was talented, but seeing his work firsthand only reassures you that you made the right decision in asking him to help with your content. The way he captures light, shadows, and your expressions—it’s more than just photography. It’s art.
“You’re really good at this, you know?” you say, glancing up at him.
Hyunjin, who’s sitting across from you on the sofa, looks up from his plate of food. He chews thoughtfully before replying, “Thanks… I just did what felt right.”
“Well, you did it right,” you say, tapping the screen. “I can already tell these are going to do well.”
As the two of you eat dinner in the hotel room, the conversation shifts to logistics—when to post, when to do another shoot. Hyunjin listens attentively, nodding as you break down your usual timeframe for content releases. “I’ll get these retouched as soon as possible,” he says, setting his fork down.
You shake your head. “Take your time. I don’t want you to rush and burn yourself out. In fact,” you continue, pointing your fork at him, “I don’t want this job to interfere with your classes.”
Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard by your seriousness. He expected you to be all business about this, but instead, you’re concerned about him.
“I mean it,” you add.
He exhales softly, then gives a small, genuine nod. “Alright.”
After dinner, Hyunjin immediately gathers his things and then carefully placing the camera back into the bag. You watch him as he moves around the room, methodical and a little too eager to leave, like he can’t stand being in the same room with you for long.
“You really don’t want to stay?” you ask again, tilting your head as you lean against the doorway.
He pauses, lips parting slightly before he exhales through his nose. “I have class tomorrow morning,” he reminds you, polite but firm.
You nod, pretending you’re not at all disappointed by his refusal. “Okay. Be careful on your way home.”
He shifts his bag higher on his shoulder and glances at you. “Thanks for dinner,” he says, his voice softer now.
“Thanks for today,” You say back with a smile, lingering by the doorway as he heads out.
Hyunjin hesitates for just a second before nodding, then turns away. You watch as he disappears down the hallway, the quiet click of the hotel door the only thing left between you.
You exhale, pushing off the frame, and let a small smirk creep onto your lips. He’s polite, professional—but you can tell that he’s still affected. And that? That’s interesting.
-
A month passes in a blur of work, shoots, and discussions for the next concepts. You settle into a rhythm with Hyunjin—he’s professional, almost frustratingly so, but his work is undeniably good. Better than you expected. And now, standing in line at the bakery after your morning run, you see just how much of a difference he’s made. You check Lustre while waiting, scrolling through the analytics. The numbers have shot up—subscriptions, engagement, everything. A satisfied smirk tugs at your lips.
When it’s your turn, you place an order for pastries and two coffees, humming to yourself as you carry the warm bag back home. Instead of heading straight to your apartment, you stop in front of Hyunjin’s door and knock.
There’s some shuffling inside before the door cracks open, revealing a very groggy Hyunjin. His long dark hair is messy, and the sleep still clings to his face as he squints at you.
“What…?” His voice is hoarse, and it’s almost cute. Almost.
You lift the bag and grin. “Good morning. I brought breakfast.”
He steps aside to let you in, still half-asleep as he mumbles something about needing to wash up. You make your way to the worn-out couch in his small apartment, setting the bag of pastries and coffee on the rickety table in front of you.
As you sit waiting for Hyunjin, your eyes wander around the space. It’s… concerning, to say the least. The place is cramped, barely holding the essentials. A few dishes sit abandoned in the sink, and the shelves sag under the weight of books and art supplies. There’s barely any decoration—just functional, mismatched furniture that looks like it’s been here longer than he has. But then, your gaze lands on the canvases propped against the wall, some half-covered with cloth, others left bare, revealing his work. Paints, brushes, and sketchbooks clutter the small desk in the corner, a contrast to the rest of the room. The strokes on the canvas are expressive, raw, filled with emotion in a way that makes you pause. So this is what he spends his money on.
Before you can take a closer look, you hear the bathroom door creak open. Hyunjin steps out, his hair damp from a quick wash, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he joins you. “You didn’t have to do this,” he mutters, eyeing the food.
“I wanted to,” you reply, handing him a coffee. “Besides, I have good news to share.”
He takes a sip of his coffee as you both settle into breakfast, the scent of warm pastries filling the small apartment. It’s quiet for a moment, the two of you simply eating, before you decide to share something with him.
“I want to reach 100,000 subscribers soon,” you say, breaking the silence.
He glances up from his food, chewing thoughtfully before replying, “You’re already doing well. Don’t stress too much about the numbers.”
“I know, but it’s a milestone,” you admit as you tear a piece of bread. “Something to work toward.”
He hums in response, nodding as he takes another bite. Unlike you, he seems completely unbothered by the idea of numbers and growth. Maybe it’s because he isn’t the one relying on it, but his calmness is oddly reassuring.
You hesitate before carefully bringing up the subject that’s been on your mind since you walked in. “Hey, um… your apartment.”
He raises an eyebrow, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “What about it?”
“You don’t have much in here,” you say, treading lightly. “Did you, like… going through a renovation?”
He exhales, leaning back in his chair. “Sold most of it,” he says simply. “Needed the money.”
Your chest tightens at his words. It’s one thing to know he’s struggling—it’s another to hear it so plainly. You think for a moment before saying, “I actually have a desk at my place. Bought it a while ago, but it’s just been collecting dust because I don’t have the energy to assemble it. You can have it.”
Hyunjin immediately shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t need—”
“You do,” you cut in gently. “You need a proper workspace. Especially now that you’re helping me with my content.”
He hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You press on. “It’ll help with productivity,” you add, playfully bumping your knee with his. “Consider it an investment in our work.”
-
After finishing breakfast, Hyunjin helps clear the table while you rinse the dishes in his small sink. He insists he can do it later, but you wave him off, saying, “It’s not a big deal.”
He doesn’t argue, just leans against the counter and watches you work, still a little surprised that you’re here, in his apartment, like this. It’s… nice.
Once you’re done, you dry your hands on a paper towel and turn to him. “So, do you want to get the desk now?”
Hyunjin hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need it?”
“I told you, it’s just been collecting dust,” you say with a shrug. “It’ll be put to better use in your place.”
After a moment, he gives in with a small sigh. “Alright, fine.”
The walk to your apartment is short, you unlock the door and step inside, stretching your arms above your head and on then Hyunjin realizes that you're wearing a tight workout attire. He quickly averts his gaze when your top lifts slightly, revealing a hint of your waist. He busies himself with taking off his shoes as you disappear into a small storage room.
“It’s in here,” you call out.
He follows, stepping into the narrow space just as you bend down to drag out the box. His breath hitches before he can stop it. Your leggings stretch over your curves, the fabric clung to you like a second skin and he forces himself to look anywhere else, jaw clenching.
“I can get it,” he says quickly, stepping in before you can lift the box on your own.
You straighten up and smirk at him. “Are you sure? It’s pretty heavy.”
“I got it,” he insists, gripping the sides of the box and lifting it.
You watch him struggle for a second before chuckling. “Alright, strong man, let’s get it to your place.”
Hyunjin rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond, leading the way out of your apartment. You follow close behind as he carries the box down the hallway, hands in your pockets as you casually watch him struggle just a little. His arms are strong, but the box is bulky, and you can tell he’s adjusting his grip every few steps.
“You sure you don’t need help with that?” you ask, tilting your head.
Hyunjin exhales sharply. “Unless you’re offering to assemble it for me…”
You hum, pretending to consider it. “Mm… no, I don’t think I have the skills for that.” Then you grin. “But I can be your cheerleader while you do it.”
He lets out a surprised laugh, shifting the box in his arms. “Oh, yeah? You gonna sit there with pom-poms and a little skirt?”
You smirk at him and say, “If that’s what gets you motivated.”
His laugh turns into a short cough, and you catch the way his ears turn pink. He clears his throat and focuses on the door in front of him, pushing it open with his shoulder before stepping inside.
You follow, shutting the door behind you. “Alright, let’s see if you can actually put this thing together,” you say, stepping around him to nudge the box with your foot. “Or are you gonna need me to call in reinforcements?”
Hyunjin scoffs, dropping the box onto the floor with a thud. “Please. I got this.”
You plop down on the worn-out couch, crossing your legs. “Go on, then. Impress me.”
He huffs but can’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really just gonna sit there and watch?”
You nod with a sly grin plastered on your face. “And encourage. That’s the role of a cheerleader, after all.”
Hyunjin chuckles again, shaking his head as he kneels next to the box and starts tearing it open. He wasn’t expecting this morning to turn into a build-your-own-desk adventure, but with you sitting there, grinning at him like that, he doesn’t really mind. However, a moment later, your phone buzzes on the couch beside you, and when you glance at the screen, your expression shifts slightly. Hyunjin notices—he’s been sneaking glances at you between sorting out the desk pieces.
You sigh, standing up and slipping your phone into your pocket. “Looks like I gotta go.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Already? And here I was, counting on my personal cheerleader to get me through this.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “Sorry to disappoint. But hey, at least I cheered you on for the first five minutes.”
He feigns a heavy sigh and frowns. “How will I ever finish this now?”
You roll your eyes but smile. “You’ll survive.”
Before stepping toward the door, you turn back to him. “Oh, by the way—don’t forget about the shoot this weekend.”
Hyunjin nods, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants. “Got it. Same as last time?”
“Not exactly.” You smirk. “This one’s a collaboration.”
That makes him pause. “A collaboration?”
“Mhm.” You give him a little wave before heading for the door. “We’ll talk details later. Have fun with the desk!”
He watches the door click shut, the faint sound of your footsteps disappearing down the hall. He exhales, running a hand through his hair before looking back at the unassembled desk sprawled across his floor. “A collaboration, huh?” he mutters to himself.
The word lingers in his mind as he picks up the instruction manual. You hadn’t given any details, but the idea of working with someone else on your content stirs something unfamiliar in him. It’s not his place to feel anything about it—you’re just his boss, and he’s just your photographer. But still… He won’t overthink it. It’s just a job. But as he tightens the last screw, he can’t help but wonder: who exactly is this collaboration with? And why does the thought of it make his stomach twist?
-
Hyunjin stares out the window, watching the city blur past as you drive. The radio hums softly in the background, but his mind is elsewhere. He’s been holding back his curiosity, but now that you’re well on your way to… wherever this shoot is happening, he finally speaks up.
“So,” he starts, shifting in his seat to glance at you, “this collaboration… how does it work?”
You keep your eyes on the road but smile slightly at his question. “It’s pretty simple. Sometimes, creators work together to gain more engagement. Their audience sees my content, my audience sees theirs—it’s a win-win.”
He nods slowly, processing your words. He understands the strategy, but the idea of you working with someone else on this—letting someone else into the space that’s been just you and him—unsettles him in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “And who are you collaborating with?” he asks, trying to sound casual.
You glance at him for a brief second before turning back to the road. “A friend of mine. She’s been in this line of work longer than I have. She’s the one who gave me tips when I first started.”
A friend. A woman. He didn’t realize how much tension had built up in his shoulders until he felt them relax. He scolds himself internally—why did it even matter?
“And she agreed to it?” he asks, more out of politeness than anything else.
“She was actually the one who suggested it,” you reply with a small laugh. “I mentioned how you’ve been helping me, and she got curious. Said she wanted to see your work in action.”
That makes Hyunjin sit up straighter. “She knows about me?”
“Well, she knows I hired a photographer,” you correct, throwing him a teasing glance. “I didn’t tell her everything about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He clears his throat and looks away. He’s not sure why that thought unsettled him either. “So… where exactly are we shooting?” he asks, shifting the subject.
“You’ll see when we get there,” you say, lips curling into a smirk.
Hyunjin follows closely behind you as you lead the way through the quiet hallway. His hands fiddling with the strap of the camera bag, his nerves barely concealed as he watches you stop in front of a door and press the doorbell.
A moment later, the door swings open, revealing a woman with golden brown skin and tight, voluminous curls that frame her face. She’s dressed casually in a cropped hoodie and fitted shorts, but there’s an effortless confidence in the way she carries herself. The second she sees you, her entire face lights up. “Oh my god, there she is!” she exclaims before pulling you into a tight hug. You laugh, hugging her back just as eagerly.
Hyunjin stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He isn’t sure what he expected, but her warm, welcoming energy instantly fills the space, making it feel like you’ve known each other forever.
After a while, you pull away and turn to him, gesturing in his direction. “Sienna, this is Hyunjin. He’s my photographer.”
Sienna’s sharp eyes land on him, scanning him up and down in an instant. Then, her lips curve into a playful smile as she offers her hand. “So you’re the one behind the camera. Nice to meet you, Hyunjin.”
Hyunjin quickly shakes her hand, mumbling a polite, “Nice to meet you too.”
Sienna hums in approval before glancing back at you. “Damn, girl. You didn’t tell me he was this cute.”
His brain short-circuiting at the unexpected comment. You only laugh, playfully nudging Sienna. “Behave.”
Sienna grins, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction. “I'll try my best.” She steps aside, gesturing for both of you to come in. “Come on in, you two.”
Sienna's apartment is cozy but well-kept, with soft lighting and a few decorative touches that make it feel warm and inviting. A large mirror leans against the wall, fairy lights strung along the edges, and a few framed prints hang above the couch.
“I already have the tub ready for the shoot,” Sienna announces as she closes the door behind her. She gestures toward the bathroom, where Hyunjin catches a glimpse of a clawfoot tub surrounded by neatly arranged candles and bottles of oils.
“Let's get ready in the bedroom,” she tells you.
You nod, grabbing your bag. “I’ll be quick.”
As you disappear into the room, Hyunjin sets to work, preparing his camera and checking the lighting. He adjusts his settings, making sure everything is in place before the shoot starts.
With the bedroom door left slightly ajar, he can hear the low murmur of your voice as you talk with Sienna. He tries not to listen, but certain words slip through the cracks, making his hands pause mid-adjustment.
“So what’s the deal with your photographer?” Sienna asks, her voice carrying an amused lilt.
You let out a chuckle. “What do you mean?”
“He’s cute,” Sienna says bluntly. “And he’s got this whole quiet, brooding artist vibe going on. Is he just your photographer, or is there something else?”
Hyunjin swallows, he slows his movement as if it would heighten his hearing.
“He’s just my neighbor,” you say with an easy laugh. “And he’s helping me out with my content, that’s all.”
Sienna hums. “Shame. I was about to say—if he ever wants to make a Lustre account, I’d be more than happy to collab with him.”
You groan, the sound laced with amusement. “No way. Hyunjin’s a talented painter. He’s better than doing this.”
There’s a beat of silence before Sienna snickers. “You say that like what we do isn’t art.”
You sigh at that and then say, “You know what I mean.”
Hyunjin doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation because he’s too busy replaying your words in his head. He’s better than doing this. Instead of dwelling on it, he shakes his head, exhaling sharply as he forces himself to focus. The shoot is about to start. That’s what he should be thinking about. Nothing else.
-
The concept for today’s shoot is simple: “Bath Time.” A self-care routine, captured in soft, intimate shots. It’s supposed to feel natural, effortless—just two people unwinding, enjoying the warmth of a bubble bath, lathering each other’s skin with fragrant oils. At least, that’s how you described it when you briefed him on the plan earlier.
Hyunjin focuses on setting up the lighting, trying not to overthink things as he waits for you and Sienna to finish getting ready. The bathroom is already staged—plush towels folded neatly on the counter, candles flickering along the edges of the tub, a bottle of wine set on the ledge. The air is thick with the scent of vanilla and lavender, mixing with the rising steam from the bath.
Then, the bathroom door creaks open, and Hyunjin looks up to see you and Sienna stepping inside, both wrapped in matching white silk robes, hair pinned up. You’re barefoot, your feet padding softly against the tile as you move. Sienna flashes him a knowing smirk as she catches his gaze lingering a second too long, but she doesn’t say anything.
You turn to him, smiling. “Ready?”
He nods, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah. We can start with the self-care shots.”
The two of you fall into an easy rhythm—Sienna standing in front of the mirror, pretending to apply a facemask while you sit on the edge of the tub, running lotion over your legs. The silk robe slips from your shoulder slightly, exposing a hint of skin, and Hyunjin quickly adjusts the focus, his pulse kicking up for no reason. Next, you sit together on the bathroom counter, laughing as you brush through each other’s hair, pretending to apply skincare. The energy between you and Sienna is effortless, playful—he can see why your subscribers love you. And then—
The two of you untie the belts of your silk robes, letting the delicate fabric slide off your shoulders before slipping into the bath. The water is milky, filled with a luxurious bath soak that clouds the surface, but it does little to hide the curves of your bodies beneath. He quickly lifts the camera to his face, as if that will somehow shield him from the sight.
Sienna catches his reaction immediately. “Aw, look at him,” she teases, resting her chin on her palm as she leans against the edge of the tub. “Didn’t think you'd still get shy about this.”
Hyunjin clears his throat, focusing on adjusting the settings on the camera instead of looking directly at her. “I’m not—”
“She’s right, though,” you chime in, laughing softly. “You’re blushing.”
He is—he can feel the heat creeping up his neck—but he refuses to acknowledge it. “I’m just adjusting the exposure.”
Sienna giggles, nudging you playfully. “God, he's adorable.”
Before she can keep going, you step in, your voice light but teasing. “Hey, don’t scare the new guy.” You flash him a reassuring smile. “He’s just focused.”
Sienna sighs dramatically, sinking further into the bubbles. “Fine, fine. I’ll be nice.”
Hyunjin exhales slowly, shoulders easing just a little. He adjusts the camera in his grip and lifts it again. His finger pressing in on the shutter button almost non-stop, not wanting to miss a single moment. He eventually falls into a steady rhythm, his initial nerves fading as he focuses on his work. The camera becomes his shield, his lifeline, keeping him grounded as he captures the soft, intimate moments between you and Sienna.
The two of you laugh over the rim of your wine glasses, giggling as you clink them together. Music hums in the background, low and sultry, blending seamlessly with the warmth of the room. Everything feels natural—fluid—as if he’s just a silent observer in a private moment between friends. Then, without warning, Sienna leans in.
Hyunjin freezes behind the camera as her lips brush against yours, gentle at first before deepening into something more. You don’t hesitate. You tilt your head, responding to her touch with just as much ease, your fingers slipping into her curls as she presses closer.
The shift in the atmosphere is instant—what was playful and lighthearted now feels charged, the air between you and Sienna crackling with an intimacy that Hyunjin has no choice but to witness. He swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. His job is to capture the moment, to frame it just right, but his hands feel unsteady.
Sienna hums against your lips, her hand trailing along your shoulder before resting at your jaw. “Mmm,” she purrs, breaking the kiss just enough to glance at Hyunjin from the corner of her eye. “How’s our photographer doing?”
His throat suddenly gets dry. His entire body is warm. “I—uh—”
You turn your head slightly, your lips still parted from the kiss. There’s a knowing glint in your eyes as you look at him. “Are we good, Hyunjin?”
He swears you’re teasing him. He clears his throat and lifts the camera. “Just—just keep going.”
You and Sienna move together effortlessly, bodies half-submerged in the foamy water, steam curling in the air around you. Sienna’s hands roam freely—along your arms, down your sides, over the swell of your hips—while your lips stay locked in slow, languid kisses.
The camera captures everything—the way your bare shoulders glisten under the dim bathroom light, the way your fingers tangle in Sienna’s curls, tugging her closer, the way she sighs against your lips before trailing her mouth down to your neck. Sienna’s hand slides up your back, her nails grazing your skin as she presses you closer. The water ripples around you both, little waves lapping against the sides of the tub. She murmurs something against your lips that Hyunjin can’t hear, but whatever it is makes you chuckle softly before kissing her again.
The moment you and Sienna break apart, laughter fills the steamy bathroom, light and carefree. Sienna leans her forehead against yours, grinning. "That was fun," she muses, and you nod, wiping stray bubbles off your shoulder.
"Hyunjin," you call, looking over at him. "How are the pictures?"
He jolts slightly, tearing his eyes away from the viewfinder. His face is flushed—not just from the heat in the room. He quickly checks the camera, scrolling through the shots. The photos are stunning. Ethereal, even. The way the steam softened the edges, how the dim lighting caught the glow of your skin, the way you and Sienna looked lost in the moment—it was captivating.
"Uh, they look great," he manages to say, voice tight. He turns the camera so you and Sienna can take a look.
You scoot closer, wet skin brushing against his arm as you lean in, and Hyunjin nearly forgets how to breathe. Sienna hums in approval, tilting her head. "Damn, you really are good at this, Hyunjin," she says, shooting him a playful wink.
Then, without hesitation, you stand up in the tub, letting the water cascade down your body as you step out. He's seen you naked before but he is not used to it yet. Heck! He doesn't even know if he will ever be.
You grab a towel, patting yourself dry as you glance at him. "Are we good to continue?"
Hyunjin clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze and not let his eyes wander lower. "Yeah. I'm ready when you are."
Sienna chuckles knowingly as she steps out after you, slipping her hand into her curls to fluff it. "Then let's move on to the shower scene."
Hyunjin stands behind the camera, adjusting the settings as the warm glow of the bathroom light mixes with the soft haze of steam. He watches through the lens as you and Sienna step under the shower, water streaming down your bodies, making your skin glisten. Click.
His fingers move instinctively, snapping pictures as you run your hands over your arms, then down your stomach, your expression serene, lost in the moment. Sienna does the same beside you, tilting her head back as water soaks through her curls. It’s intimate—not just in a sensual way, but in how natural the two of you look together, comfortable in your skin, unfazed by the camera’s presence, by his presence.
Hyunjin is here for the artistic aspect of it, but he can’t stop his eyes from lingering. The way the water slides down the curve of your spine, the way you absentmindedly push wet strands of hair away from your face, the way your hands glide from below to cup your breasts—his chest feels tight, heat creeping up his neck. Then, Sienna leans toward you, whispering something into your ear as she puts her hands on you, touching you as you stand still for her, allowing her to explore your body as she pleases. You shift on your feet, standing facing the camera with your back pressed against Sienna’s chest, her hands wandering around as you drop your head to the side, letting her capturing your lips in a kiss again.
It feels unreal, like something out of a dream—no, like something out of his wildest fantasies. If someone had told him a month ago that he’d be here, witnessing this up close, filming something so intimate, he would’ve laughed in disbelief. But here he is. His fingers twitch on the shutter, snapping stills even as his thoughts spiral. He’s supposed to be professional. He’s supposed to focus on angles, lighting, making sure the shots turn out perfect. But his mind is a blur, his senses overwhelmed. The warmth of the room, the scent of lavender and wine, the quiet, breathy sounds filling the space—it's all too much.
-
It's not hard to notice Hyunjin struggling to keep calm as he stands behind the camera, trying his best to look professional, to act unaffected. But you’re not blind. You see the way his fingers tremble slightly as he adjusts the settings, the way he clears his throat more times than necessary. It’s cute.
You and Hyunjin have done a handful of shoots together by now. He’s seen you in lingerie, in silk robes slipping off your shoulders, in nothing but soft lighting and well-placed sheets. And yet, for some reason, this particular shoot—this one with Sienna—has him struggling to keep his cool.
Maybe it’s the way the water streams down your skin, catching the glow of the bathroom lights. Maybe it’s the way Sienna whispers something into your ear, making you burst into laughter, your body leaning into hers. Or maybe it’s the fact that he has to stand there, camera in hand, watching the two of you touch, tease, and laugh like he isn’t even there.
You catch glimpses of his expression in the mirror’s reflection—the way his jaw clenches, the way his grip tightens around the camera. It’s not discomfort—not at all. He’s just… flustered. And you find it ridiculously endearing.
When the shoot wraps up, when you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself, you pass by him with a smirk. "You okay there?"
He blinks, looking up from the camera screen like you’ve just caught him in something. "Huh? Yeah—yeah, I’m fine."
You chuckle, tilting your head. "You sure? You seem a little… distracted."
He scoffs, shaking his head as he turns away. "Nah, I'm good," he mumbles, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks redden and that just makes it all the more amusing.
You step out of the bedroom, dressed in fresh clothes, your damp hair falling over your shoulders as you towel-dry the ends. The soft hum of conversation from the living room draws your attention, and as you walk in, you find Sienna and Hyunjin sitting close together on the sofa, the camera in Hyunjin’s hands as they scroll through the photos.
Sienna glances up at you with a smile. “Finally done?”
You nod, tossing the towel onto the back of a chair.
“I ordered dinner for us,” she says, standing up and stretching. “I’m gonna change real quick.” She pats Hyunjin’s shoulder as she walks past him. “You two, don’t have fun without me.”
“No promises,” you chuckle as you settle onto the sofa beside him, your shoulder lightly brushing against his. “Now, can I see?”
Hyunjin hands you the camera, and the two of you go through the shots together. The images are stunning—Sienna’s golden skin glows under the bathroom lights, the steam giving the photos an ethereal, dreamlike quality. The shots of you and her in the tub, glasses of wine in hand, look effortlessly natural, like a private moment caught on camera. The shower pictures are just as striking, water dripping down your skin, the intimacy of the moment captured in every frame.
“You two look really good together,” Hyunjin comments, his tone thoughtful. “The chemistry is there. It doesn’t feel forced at all.”
You smile at that, glancing at him. “That’s why I only ever collab with Sienna.”
Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“She’s the only one I trust enough to do this with. I know she respects my boundaries, and we just… click.” You gesture at the photos. “You can tell, right?”
He hums in agreement, scrolling to another picture. “Yeah. It’s different from what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” you tease.
Hyunjin hesitates, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it would feel more like… acting? But this just looks real.”
You smile at that, feeling oddly pleased by his words. “That’s the goal.”
Hyunjin turns to look at you, curiosity in his gaze. “Have you ever thought about collaborating with someone other than Sienna?”
You hesitate for a moment before exhaling. “Actually, my subscribers have been asking for it. They want to see me do a collab with a male creator.”
He watches you carefully. “And?”
You shrug. “I don’t know, I'm just... I haven’t found a guy I trust enough to do this with.”
There’s a beat of silence. Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s thinking. You let the words hang between you for a moment before looking back at the camera screen, scrolling through the photos again.
All of a sudden, you feel like teasing him. “How about you? Wanna do a collab with me?”
You swear you can see his entire brain short-circuit in real-time—the way his eyes widen, his fingers stiffen around the camera, and his jaw goes slack for a second before he quickly snaps it shut.
“M-Me?” he stammers, blinking rapidly as if he misheard you. “Like—like on Lustre?”
You bite your lip, holding back a laugh. “Yeah. You’d be perfect, don’t you think?”
Hyunjin’s mouth opens then closes, clearly struggling for words. His entire face flushes, his grip tightening around the camera like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He looks so comically panicked that you finally burst out laughing.
“Oh, my god. I wasn’t being serious,” you say, giving his arm a playful nudge. “You should’ve seen your face.”
He exhales sharply, visibly deflating. He shakes his head in disbelief or relief, you can’t tell.
You grin. “Hey, at least now I know your answer.”
He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Like that wasn’t already obvious?”
You lean back against the couch, still amused. “I don’t know. You did hesitate.”
The collaboration had gone well—Sienna was a natural, and Hyunjin had gotten into the flow of things much more easily than before. You glance at him as you pull into your usual parking spot. He looks deep in thought, staring out the window with his lips pressed together.
Once inside, you unlock the door, nudging it open as Hyunjin follows behind, carrying the camera bag for you and your equipment. He sets everything down neatly by the entryway before stretching his arms with a quiet sigh.
“I like doing this,” he says suddenly.
You pause as you take your shoes off, looking at him. “Doing what?”
He meets your gaze, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Creating content with you.”
Your brows lift slightly, surprised by his honesty. He shifts his weight, a hand raking his dark hair to the back before elaborating.
“I mean… it’s not much different from painting,” he continues. “They’re both about composition, about telling a story with light and form. And—I don’t know, I just like it. I like creating art with you.”
Something warm flickers in your chest. The way he says it, so genuine and thoughtful, catches you off guard. You smile, touched by his words. “That’s really sweet, Hyunjin.”
He smiles until his eyes form two crescents and he holds your gaze as you add, “Thank you. For everything. I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you.”
For a moment, the air between you softens. The two of you just stand there, exchanging a quiet, endearing glance that lingers a little longer than usual. There’s something unspoken in it—something neither of you can't quite name it.
Then, Hyunjin clears his throat, shifting back slightly. “I should go.”
You nod, not pushing him to stay. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”
He offers you a small smile before stepping toward the door. “Goodnight.”
And with that, he slips out, leaving you standing in your doorway, still feeling the warmth of his words long after he’s gone.
-
The following weeks pass in a blur of routine and creativity. Hyunjin finds himself settling into a rhythm he hasn’t had in a long time—one where he isn’t constantly worrying about rent, skipping meals, or stressing over how to make ends meet. For the first time in a while, he can breathe.
Sitting at his newly assembled desk, he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead as he glances around his apartment. It still isn’t much—small, a little worn-down—but it feels different now. He’s not drowning in financial stress, and he can actually focus. On his studies. On his paintings.
He turns toward the easel in the corner, where a half-finished painting waits for him. His fingers itch to pick up the brush again so he does, he puts on a new canvas and starts painting. The brush glides over the canvas in smooth, deliberate strokes, the image slowly coming to life under Hyunjin’s fingertips. He doesn’t think too much about what he’s painting at first—he’s simply letting his hands move, letting the colors blend and take form as he loses himself in the rhythm of creation.
It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way. Inspired. At peace. But then, as he leans back to examine his work, realization settles in his chest. He’s painting you. Your eyes, your smile, the way light catches on your skin. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head—everything is unmistakably you.
Hyunjin exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. He should stop. Or at least change something, make it less obvious. But instead, he picks up his brush again and keeps going, adding depth, warmth. There’s something about this—about you—that compels him forward.
He doesn’t know how much time passes, lost in his own world, before a sudden knock on the door jolts him out of his focus. Frowning, he sets his brush down and stands, stretching out the stiffness in his back before moving toward the door.
The moment he opens it, he barely has time to react before you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in an excited hug. “We did it!” you exclaim, grinning against his shoulder.
He stiffens for half a second before his body instinctively reacts, catching you as he stumbles back a step. He can feel the way you’re practically buzzing with excitement, your warmth seeping into him. “We… did what?” he asks, still processing.
You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your own sparkling. “A hundred thousand subscribers. We hit the goal.”
Hyunjin's lips part in surprise. “Wait… seriously?”
You nod eagerly with a big grin on plastered your face. “I just checked! It finally happened.”
For a moment, Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say. He knew this was important to you, knew how much work you put into it. And now, seeing the joy on your face, the way you’re looking at him with pure excitement—it’s contagious. A slow, genuine smile tugs at his lips. “That’s amazing.”
“I know!” You laugh, bouncing slightly on your feet. “And I wanted to celebrate with you first since you’ve been such a huge part of it.”
His heart does something strange in his chest. He swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you still are. How natural it feels to have you in his arms. Clearing his throat, he gently steps back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… congratulations.”
You beam at him. “Thanks.” Then your eyes flicker past him into his apartment. “Were you painting?”
Hyunjin stiffens, his gaze darting toward the easel. He had completely forgotten about it. And before he can stop you, you step past him, eyes landing on the canvas.
You tilt your head as you take in the painting, your eyes tracing over the delicate brushstrokes and warm hues. “I didn’t realize you were in the middle of something,” you say, turning back to Hyunjin with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for barging in like that.”
He quickly shakes his head, stepping beside you and subtly angling himself to block the view of the canvas. “It’s fine,” he says, maybe a little too quickly. He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just… messing around. It’s nothing serious.”
You nod, not thinking much of it, and take a step back. “Well, do you have any plans tonight?”
His mind still half-stuck on the painting and he scrambles to answer such a simple question. “Uh… no?”
“Great.” You grin, crossing your arms. “Go get changed and get ready. We're going out tonight.”
He stares at you for a beat. “Wait—what?”
“You heard me,” you say, nudging his arm. “We just hit a hundred thousand subscribers. We have to celebrate.”
Hyunjin hesitates. He wasn’t expecting this. A quiet night in, sure. Maybe more painting. But going out with you? That was… different. He eyes you, noting the playful determination in your expression. And even though part of him wants to protest, to say he’s fine staying in, another part—the part that’s always drawn to you, always curious—doesn’t want to say no.
With a sigh, he relents. “Give me a few minutes.”
You grin in victory and head for the door. “I’ll be waiting by the stairs.”
As Hyunjin grabs a clean shirt from his closet, his gaze flickers back to the easel. The painting sits there, unfinished and he steps closer, taking in the details he hadn’t even realized he’d captured. The curve of your lips, the way your hair falls over your shoulders, the light in your eyes. It’s beautiful in its own way, but as he stares at it, a thought lingers in his mind. Will it ever be as beautiful as the real you?
He exhales, shaking his head with a small, almost amused smile. Probably not. No painting—no matter how perfect—could ever capture the way you feel in the moment. The way your voice carries when you’re excited, the warmth of your smile, the way you look at him when you’re teasing or when you’re sincere. With one last look at the unfinished piece, Hyunjin grabs his jacket and heads for the door. Whatever answer he’s looking for, he won’t find it on the canvas. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll find it out there—with you.
-
For the first time, you and Hyunjin are going out together—not for work, not for a shoot, but just to hang out. Just you and him, no cameras, no content to create. It shouldn’t feel like a big deal, but as you drive through the city streets, you can’t shake the little thrill of excitement bubbling inside you. You glance at Hyunjin in the passenger seat. He looks relaxed, gazing out the window, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee to the beat of the song playing on the radio. He doesn’t know where you’re taking him yet, but he didn’t argue when you told him to get dressed and come along.
“We’re here,” you announce as you pull into the parking lot.
Hyunjin leans forward slightly, scanning the front of an art supply store. His brows lift in recognition. “Huh?”
“You always refuse whenever I try to give you money,” you say, turning off the engine. “So I figured I’d do it this way instead.”
He gives you a look—part amused, part hesitant. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”
“I know I don’t have to,” you reply, echoing your earlier words. “I want to.”
Hyunjin sighs, shaking his head with a small, reluctant smile.
“Please, let me do this for you.” you sweetly plead while unbuckling your seatbelt.
Eventually, he gives in, and the two of you step inside. The scent of paper, paint, and wood greets you, and for a moment, you simply take it in. It’s not a place you’d usually find yourself in, but you can tell it’s familiar to Hyunjin—comfortable.
“Alright,” you say, nudging him forward. “Pick whatever you need.”
Hyunjin hesitates but then starts moving, leading you through the aisles. You watch as his fingers trail along sketchbooks, as he lifts brushes and tests the bristles between his fingertips. He explains things as he goes, telling you about the differences between paint types, the importance of good-quality paper, why some brushes work better for details while others are for broad strokes.
You nod along, absorbing the information, even though you’ll probably forget most of it later. Still, it’s nice—seeing him in his element like this, watching his passion come through in the way he talks. At one point, you hold up a tiny watercolor palette. “This is cute. Do you use watercolors?”
“I do, sometimes,” Hyunjin says.
“You should get this then.” Before he can protest, you toss it into the growing basket in your arms.
By the time you both make it to the checkout counter, you’ve learned more about art supplies than you ever thought you would. More importantly, you’ve had fun. The weight of work, money, and responsibilities feels lighter tonight, replaced by something simpler—something closer to just being.
As the cashier rings up the items, Hyunjin turns to you, his eyes warm with gratitude. “Thank you.”
You grin, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. “Told you, it’s a celebration. Now, it's my turn.”
He carries the shopping bag in one hand as he turns to look at you. "Your turn for what?"
Instead of answering, you link your arm with his and start leading him down the sidewalk, weaving through the small cluster of stores nearby. He stumbles a little at first but quickly falls into step with you. It doesn't take long for you to find what you're looking for—a boutique with large glass windows displaying mannequins dressed in sleek, trendy outfits. The second you step inside, Hyunjin hesitates.
"Wait," he says, realizing where you've brought him. "You’re shopping for clothes?"
"Obviously," you say, already skimming through a rack of dresses. "You think I’d just let you have all the fun tonight?"
Hyunjin exhales, brushing his hair to the back only to send more strands of hair falling over his face. "I should've known."
You steer him to the bench sofa and push him down to make him sit. You shoot him a teasing look as you say, "Be a good boy and wait here."
He sighs dramatically but doesn’t protest as you disappear behind the changing room curtain with an armful of outfits.
It starts off easy enough—you try on a casual dress first, stepping out and doing a little twirl in front of the mirror. He glances up from his phone, his expression neutral at first, but when you ask, "What do you think?" he shifts awkwardly in his seat.
"Uh, yeah. Looks nice," he says quickly.
You squint at him. "Nice?"
"It's...pretty?"
"You’re not very convincing, Hyunjin."
He groans, leaning back against the cushioned bench. "What do you want me to say?"
"An honest opinion," you reply, disappearing back into the fitting room.
The next outfit is a little bolder—a sleek, figure-hugging dress with a low neckline. The moment you step out, Hyunjin stiffens, his eyes darting everywhere except at you.
"So?" you press, tilting your head.
He swallows hard. "I, uh—" He gestures vaguely. "It’s...a dress?"
You smirk, stepping closer. "A dress, huh?"
"Yeah," he nods, still refusing to meet your gaze. "It sure is a—definitely a dress."
You laugh. "Hyunjin, you're so bad at this."
"I told you this was a bad idea," he grumbles.
"Oh, come on," you tease, placing a hand on your hip. "You’re around me naked all the time during shoots. What’s so different about this?"
"That’s work," he says quickly. "This is...different."
You raise an eyebrow. "How is it different?"
Hyunjin suddenly gets quiet, struggling to come up with an answer. You grin, satisfied with his reaction. "Alright, alright, I won't torture you anymore." You turn back toward the fitting room. "But I am buying this one."
As you disappear behind the curtain, you hear Hyunjin exhale loudly, muttering something under his breath. You can’t quite catch the words, but judging by the way he’s been acting all night, you have a pretty good idea. And the thought alone makes you smile.
-
Hyunjin never really enjoyed shopping. The idea of going from store to store, carrying bags, and making endless choices always seemed exhausting to him.
This time felt different though. Maybe it was because you were there, effortlessly making everything fun. From the way you pulled him around the art supply store, listening intently as he explained the difference between oil and acrylic paints, to how you tortured him in the clothing store with your relentless outfit changes—Hyunjin found himself laughing more than he had in a long time. Now, with both of you standing by your car, loading shopping bags into the trunk, he realizes something else. He’s actually enjoying himself.
"Alright!" You clap your hands, shutting the trunk. "Dinner next!"
The drive isn’t long, but when Hyunjin sees the restaurant you’re pulling into, he does a double take. The place looks fancy. Dim lighting, sleek architecture, waiters in neatly pressed suits—it’s nothing like the casual takeout spots he’s used to.
"Uh… are you sure? Maybe we can go somewhere else."
You quirk a brow at him. "Why?"
"It just looks kinda… expensive?" he says hesitantly, shifting in his seat.
You narrow your eyes at him as you unbuckle your seatbelt. "What, you think I can’t afford it?"
Hyunjin opens his mouth, then shuts it when he sees the teasing glint in your eyes. Before he can protest further, you’re already out of the car, striding confidently toward the entrance.
The moment you step inside, a waiter greets you with a polite smile and guides you both to a vacant table. Hyunjin hesitates for a second before sitting down across from you, still looking slightly uneasy.
"You seriously didn’t have to do this," he mutters, scanning the pristine table setting, the expensive-looking wine glasses, the soft glow of the chandelier above.
"But I wanted to," you say while flipping through the menu.
Hyunjin meets your gaze, and something about the way you say it makes his chest feel warm. With a small sigh, he relaxes into his seat. "Fine. But if the menu doesn’t have prices on it, I’m walking out."
You burst into laughter, and despite himself, Hyunjin finds a smile creeping onto his lips. However, in the next moment, he notices the shift in your expression.
One moment, you’re smirking at him, clearly enjoying how flustered he is—the next, your face drops, your body going rigid as your eyes fixate on something behind him.
"Hey," he says, frowning slightly. "What’s wrong?"
You don’t answer. Instead, you abruptly stand up, grabbing your bag and reaching for his wrist.
"We can't be here. Come on," you say under your breath, already pulling him with you.
Hyunjin stumbles to his feet, utterly confused. "Wait—what? Where are we—?"
"Just—let’s go," you cut him off, voice tense.
He barely has time to register what’s happening before you’re weaving through the tables, dragging him toward the exit with hurried steps. The fun, lighthearted atmosphere from earlier vanishes in an instant, replaced by something tight and uneasy.
As soon as you push through the restaurant doors, stepping out into the cool night air, Hyunjin pulls back slightly, forcing you to slow down. "Okay, seriously," he says, catching his breath. "What was that? Did you see someone in there?"
Your lips press together, and for the first time tonight, you look genuinely shaken.
-
The city lights blur past in streaks of yellow and red, the hum of the car filling the quiet between you. Hyunjin steadily grips the steering wheel with one hand, eyes flickering toward you as you lean back in the passenger’s seat, staring out the window. He hadn’t expected you to hand him the car keys so easily when he offered to drive, but you looked like you needed a break. And for a while, the silence was comfortable. But then, you sigh softly, and he glances at you again.
"I saw my friend and her fiancé at the restaurant," you finally say, your voice quiet.
Hyunjin doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to continue. When you don’t, he simply hums in acknowledgment, keeping his focus on the road.
You shift slightly, resting your arm against the door. "They invited me to their engagement party last month. I went, but…" You hesitate, fingers idly tracing patterns against your thigh. "One of her fiancé’s friends recognized me. From Lustre."
Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way your voice drops slightly at the end, as if you’re bracing yourself for his reaction. He exhales through his nose, keeping his tone neutral. "What happened?"
You let out a dry laugh. "Nothing dramatic. He didn’t make a scene or anything. Just… started whispering to the people around him. A few of them started staring. Some were curious, others were obviously judging. It was awkward."
You exhale softly, turning your gaze back to the window. The city lights cast shifting shadows across your face, and he catches the way your fingers curl slightly against your lap, like you're holding something in. "So I decided to leave early. I didn’t want to ruin their night."
His jaw tenses, and he risks another glance at you. "You think you would’ve ruined it just by being there?"
You let out a short, humorless laugh. "I don’t know. But I could feel the shift in the air, the way people started whispering. I just didn’t want my friend to have to deal with that at her own party."
Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. He knows that feeling all too well—being talked about like you’re not there, like you’re just an idea for people to judge instead of a person with real feelings. It makes something in his chest ache for you.
You sigh again, tilting your head back against the seat. "Maybe it’s better this way," you murmur. "For me to keep my distance from them."
He makes a turn before saying, "But she's your friend."
"She is," you admit, lips pressing together. "Bu I don’t want to put her in a position where she has to defend me all the time."
Hyunjin doesn’t like the sound of that. It feels unfair—like you’re punishing yourself for other people’s ignorance. But he doesn’t know how to say that without making it worse. So instead, he just nods slowly, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. "If that’s what you think is best," he says carefully. "But… it still sucks."
You smile faintly at that, turning your head to look at him. "Yeah," you agree, voice softer now. "It does."
When the two of you arrive on your shared floor, you lead the way toward your apartment as Hyunjin follows closely behind, carrying the shopping bags in both hands. The air between you is quieter now—not uncomfortable, just… heavy with unspoken thoughts. You stop in front of your apartment door, rummaging through your bag to find the keys.
Hyunjin hesitates for a second before speaking. "Thanks for tonight," he says, his voice softer than usual. "I actually had fun."
That makes you smile, just a little, and you look up at him. "Even though I dragged you into shopping and took you to a fancy restaurant just to leave?"
Hyunjin chuckles at that. "Yeah, even then."
Your smile lingers, but he can still see it—the sadness beneath it. It’s there in your eyes, in the way your fingers fidget against the strap of one of the bags. You’re still thinking about what happened earlier.
He wants to say something, anything, to make it better. But he knows words can only do so much. So instead, he offers a small, easy grin. "And, you know, the dumplings were a nice save. So I’ll forgive you for the restaurant thing."
That earns him a soft laugh from you, and for now, it’s enough. He nods toward your door, now unlocked. "Get inside. Get some rest."
"You too," you reply with a soft smile.
And with that, you slip inside your apartment, leaving Hyunjin standing there for a moment, staring at your closed door, thinking about the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes tonight.
-
On Saturday, you and Hyunjin start the day early, loading your bags into the trunk of your car, preparing for the trip. There’s an excited energy buzzing around you, evident in the way you hum to yourself, swaying slightly as you double-check everything before shutting the trunk.
Hyunjin silently watches, amused. “You’re in a good mood,” he notes, shoving his hands into his pockets.
You flash him a grin. “Of course! A road trip, a new shoot, and a weekend away? What’s not to be excited about?”
He smiles as he slips into the passenger seat as you slide into the driver’s side. The moment you hit the road, you roll the windows down, letting the breeze sweep through the car. Music plays from the speakers, and without hesitation, you start singing along—light, carefree, completely in your element.
Hyunjin leans back, watching you as you tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. The sunlight catches on your skin, making you glow, and your hair moves with the wind, effortless and natural. You look happy. He doesn't even think twice when he grabs the camera. His fingers move instinctively, snapping photos of you as you sing, laugh, and steal glances at the passing scenery.
You don’t notice at first, too caught up in the moment. But then you catch sight of him in your peripheral vision, and you smirk. “Are you taking pictures of me?”
He sets the camera down with a sheepish chuckle. “You just— You look nice,” he admits, “It’s… a good moment.”
Your smirk softens into something more genuine. You flip your hair as you crack another chuckle. “Well, I hope you got my good angles.”
With that, Hyunjin lifts the camera and aims it at you. “You don’t have a bad one.”
The drive up to the villa is peaceful, the road winding through trees and open fields until you finally pull up to the secluded property. The villa is bigger than you expected, modern yet cozy, with large windows that overlook a breathtaking view of rolling hills. The real highlight, though, is the swimming pool stretching across the back patio, glistening under the bright sun.
Hyunjin lets out a low whistle as he steps out of the car. “You really went all out for this one.”
You grin, stretching your arms above your head. “Only the best for my content.”
Hyunjin doesn’t wait for you instruction, he goes to the back of the car, grabbing both of your bags from the trunk. Together, you head inside, greeted by high ceilings, sleek furniture, and a warm, inviting atmosphere. You drop your stuff in the living room and immediately start exploring, making mental notes of the best spots to use for the shoot.
“The living room has great lighting,” Hyunjin points out, running his fingers along the edge of a marble counter. “But I think the bedroom could work too, if you’re going for something more intimate.”
You nod, considering it. “And the pool. We definitely have to use the pool.”
He nods in agreement while following you outside. The water sparkles under the sun, and the view beyond it looks straight out of a painting. It’s secluded enough that there’s no chance of interruptions.
You take a slow walk around the patio, already picturing the shots in your mind. “This might be one of my favorite locations yet.”
-
The afternoon sun is warm against your skin as you lie back on the lounge chair, sunglasses perched on your nose, enjoying the quiet. The villa’s backyard is peaceful, the only sounds coming from the occasional rustling of leaves and the soft scratching of Hyunjin’s pencil against paper. You peek over at him, watching as he’s hunched slightly forward, sketchbook in his lap, completely lost in whatever he’s drawing. His brows furrow in concentration, his lips slightly parted—he looks beautiful when he’s focused like this. Then, an idea pops into your head.
“Draw me,” you say, shifting to your side so you can face him.
He's looking up from his sketchbook with his brows knotted in question. “What?”
“Draw me. You’re always sketching something—why not me?” You say, putting one leg over another, striking a pose for him.
His gaze flickers over you briefly, and you don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. You’re stretched out comfortably, bikini top and denim shorts leaving most of your skin exposed to the sun. The golden glow only accentuates the curves of your body, the way your skin looks smooth and soft under the light.
“Oh, come on,” you tease, tugging at the sleeve of his plaid shirt. “You’ve taken my photos so many times. What’s the difference?”
“Fine,” he mumbles, flipping to a fresh page. “But don’t move too much.”
You smile in victory and settle back into your chair, letting him work. You stay still for the most part, but you can’t help sneaking glances at him. His gaze lingers on you a little longer than usual, his pencil moving with careful precision.
There’s something captivating about the way he looks when he’s focused—his dark eyes following the curve of your body, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. His lips are pursed, just barely, as if deep in thought, and the strands of hair escaping the loose ponytail framing his small face, moving slightly with the breeze. Hyunjin is beautiful like this—lost in his art, completely unaware of how effortlessly stunning he is.
You rest your chin on your hand, watching him quietly. You’ve seen him like this before, both behind the camera and in front of it, but there’s something different about this moment. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight catches the angles of his face, or how his fingers move so fluidly across the page, sketching lines with such careful precision. Whatever it is, you find yourself admiring him—not just his talent, but him. Also, you can't help but wonder what he sees when he looks at you—not just as a subject, but as a person. And if, maybe, the way he’s drawing you now is different from how he sees you through his camera lens.
Just as you’re about to say something, the sound of the front door swinging open echoes through the villa.
“Hellooo! I’m here!” Sienna’s voice rings out, followed by the sound of her sandals tapping against the floor as she makes her way outside.
Hyunjin startles slightly, his pencil slipping on the page, while you fumble to sit up on the lounge chair, pulled out of whatever quiet moment had settled between you two.
“There you guys are!” Sienna grins as she steps onto the patio, sunglasses perched on top of her curly hair. She’s dressed casually in a crop top and flowy pants, looking effortlessly radiant as always. She tosses her bag onto a nearby chair before placing her hands on her hips. “I figured I’d find you lounging.”
You laugh, stretching your arms over your head. “It’s a vacation too, you know.”
Sienna’s gaze flicks to Hyunjin, then to his sketchbook. “Ooooh, what are you drawing?”
Hyunjin immediately closes his sketchbook. “Nothing.”
Sienna smirks. “Uh-huh, sure. Was he drawing you?” She directs the question at you, wiggling her brows.
You shrug playfully. “I asked him to.”
Sienna chuckles as she flops onto the sunbed next to you and sighs as she takes in the view, then she turns to you with an excited grin. “So! We ready to plan the shoot? I was thinking of something really sexy by the pool.”
You exchange a glance with Hyunjin, who exhales, already preparing himself for whatever Sienna has in mind.
-
After the pool shot, the three of you continue to lounge comfortably in the living room, the remains of dinner pushed aside as Sienna pours more wine into everyone’s glasses. The atmosphere is light, filled with laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Hyunjin leans back against the couch, holding his glass but not drinking much, just listening as you and Sienna exchange stories.
“So,” Sienna pauses to swallow her wine before continuing, “have you thought more about that male collab thing?”
You set your glass down, considering your words. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I want to do it… but I don’t think I’m ready yet.”
Sienna hums, tilting her head. “I get it. But when you are, I can introduce you to a couple of guys I’ve worked with before. They’re professional, easy to work with.” She winks. “And hot.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “That’s not really the problem.”
“Then what is?” she presses.
You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just… different. I’ve only ever done this with you because I trust you. Bringing a guy into it—it changes the whole dynamic.”
Sienna nods in understanding. “That’s fair. But if you ever want to test the waters, I can vouch for a few good ones.”
You smile at her offer but don’t commit to anything. “Maybe one day.”
Then, Sienna reaches into her bag and pulls out a small bottle. She twists the cap off, shaking out three pills before handing one to each of you.
“Here,” she says, placing one in Hyunjin’s palm and one in yours.
He looks at it warily. “What is it?”
“Just something to help you relax,” Sienna assures, tossing hers back and washing it down with a sip of wine. “Nothing dangerous. I promise.”
Hyunjin hesitates, turning to you to seek assurance. His fingers hover over the pill, unsure.
You nod, offering a small smile. “It’s safe. It just takes the edge off a little.”
After a moment, he sighs and finally places the pill on his tongue, swallowing it with a sip of wine. He can't taste anything but the sweet and a hint of sourness of the red wine.
Sienna grins, refilling everyone’s glasses before initiating a toast. “To a successful shoot,” she says, raising her glass.
You and Hyunjin clink glasses with hers before drinking. The taste of the wine lingers on your tongue, smooth and rich, as warmth slowly settles in your body.
Sienna leans into you, draping herself lazily against your shoulder. “Mmm, I think this one is going to be fun.”
You chuckle, tilting your head back against the couch. “It always is.”
Hyunjin watches the two of you, still holding his glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim. He doesn’t say much, but there’s something in his gaze—curiosity, anticipation, and maybe, just maybe, the slightest bit of nervous excitement.
-
The camera feels heavier in Hyunjin’s hands as he adjusts the focus, framing you and Sienna in the soft glow of the bedroom lights. Both of you are draped in delicate silk slip dresses, the fabric clinging to your curves as you lounge on the bed, bodies close, limbs tangled around each other. He swallows hard, trying to keep his hands steady as he clicks the shutter. The way the light catches on the smoothness of your skin, the way your fingers trace over each other’s arms—it’s mesmerizing. He tells himself to focus on the composition, the artistry, but there’s a lingering tension in his chest that he can’t quite shake.
As the shoot progresses, the silk straps start slipping off shoulders, the fabric sliding down in slow, teasing motions. Sienna moves first, letting the dress pool around her waist as she turns to you, running her fingers along your bare arm. You follow suit, the fabric gliding down, exposing more with each captured frame.
Hyunjin keeps taking pictures, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. The way you move together, the way your bodies curve and fit—it’s intimate, captivating, like something out of a dream. He fights the urge to pinch his arm to assure himself that it's real, it's happening right in front of him. Then, you turn your head at him, smiling ever softly as you say, “You can start recording now.”
He swallows before nodding, switching the mode, readjusting the settings and when he lifts his head from the camera, his breath catches. You and Sienna are already tangled together on the bed, lips pressed together, hands wandering over each other’s bodies. The silk sheets shift beneath you as your fingers slide up Sienna’s waist, tracing the curve of her spine. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss, and the soft sighs and low giggles between you send a warmth crawling up Hyunjin’s neck. He forces himself to move, keeping his hand steady once he presses the record button, making sure everything is in frame and exposing just enough to engage with the audience, because what he's making is art, not some cheap porn videos.
The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts flickering shadows on your skin, highlighting every movement as Sienna’s fingers disappear into your hair, tugging you even closer. He keeps his eyes on the viewfinder, focusing on the way your lips move against Sienna’s, your tongues tangling in a slow, teasing rhythm. The soft sounds of your kisses fill the dimly lit room, and when Sienna bites at your lower lip, drawing out a breathy giggle from you, his hand loosens for a second before he grips the camera tighter.
The room feels warmer than before, the heat crawling up his skin as he watches Sienna trail kisses down your neck, her lips grazing your collarbone before venturing lower. You lean back, propping both hands against the mattress, exhaling softly as you allow her more space as she presses open-mouthed kisses along your chest. The silk of your dress slips further, pooling at your waist, and Sienna takes her time, her lips and tongue exploring your skin. Hyunjin swallows hard as Sienna teasingly licks your nipple before taking the ample flesh into her mouth. Your body jolts in surprise, your fingers curl into the sheets as Sienna’s mouth works over your other nipple.
A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, and he exhales through his nose, his body running too warm, his mind feeling hazy. Maybe it’s the heat of the room. Maybe it’s the pill. With one hand, he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. The white tank clings to his lean frame, but the slight relief of cool air against his skin helps—at least a little. He takes a breath, refocusing on the camera, on the way Sienna’s hands slide lower, fingers teasing along your thighs. Then you gasp, a quiet yet sharp kind as Sienna’s hand touches you there, right between the legs. Her fingers tracing slow, circular motions on your clit.
Hyunjin keeps recording, watching through the lens as your body responds to Sienna’s touch. You open your legs wider in response, allowing him to see what Sienna is doing to your glistening cunt. His heart is pounding, his mouth suddenly dry, but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t think he could, even if he wanted to.
The air in the room is thick, a mixture of wine, perfume, and something else—something intoxicating. His white tank clings to him uncomfortably, heat creeping up his neck, and before he realizes it, he tugs it off, letting it drop to the floor beside him. The cool air against his skin does little to steady him.
You arch against Sienna’s touch, your lips parting with a breathless sound, and Hyunjin’s fingers twitch against the camera. He can’t remember the last time he felt this kind of tension coil inside him, tightening with each second that passes.
For a moment, his gaze drifts away from the camera screen, settling on you—not as a subject, not as a model, but as you. The way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part with unspoken pleasure, the way your eyes lingering on him as if you want him to see you come undone. Suddenly, Hyunjin wonders if he’s crossed a line he can’t step back from when he watches, unable to look away, as you shudder beneath Sienna’s touch, coming all over her hand as she giggles in satisfaction. Your breath catches, your body trembling, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly small. His grip tightens around the camera, but his focus wavers—not on the shot, but on you. On the way your lips part, the way your fingers dig into the sheets, the way you meet his gaze without hesitation. He should look away. He should stop staring.
But then, you tilt your head, eyes lidded with something unreadable, and you say—soft but certain—“Come here.”
Hyunjin doesn’t move at first. He doesn’t know if he still van functioning well after watching all that. But before he can form a protest, Sienna tugs at his wrist, pulling him forward with enough force that he stumbles onto the bed, landing between you both. The camera slips from his grasp, bouncing against the mattress. He barely registers it. His pulse is too loud, his skin too hot, his mind spinning as he feels you shift closer. The air crackles with something electric, something heavy and charged, and when he finally meets your eyes again, there’s no mistaking the invitation lingering there.
Sienna laughs, low and teasing, her fingers trailing lightly down his arm. “No need to be shy, Hyunjin.”
Shy isn’t the word for what he’s feeling. Overwhelmed, maybe. Lost in the moment, definitely. And yet, when you reach for him next, when your fingers brush against his, he doesn’t pull away. In the next moment, you and Sienna draped over him, pressing close from each side of him, filling every space around him with warmth. His body is taut with tension, his mind racing to keep up, but then Sienna hums softly, her fingers grazing his cheek.
"Relax," she murmurs, tilting his chin toward her before he can even think to resist. "We're going to take good care of you."
Then, her lips press against his, soft but deliberate, a teasing glide that makes his pulse stutter. He stiffens for just a second before instinct takes over, his lips moving against hers, falling into the moment even as his thoughts spin. Sienna pulls back with a smirk, eyes dark with something unreadable, and before he can catch his breath, you’re already turning his face toward you. The anticipation coils tight in his stomach—then your lips meet his, warm and intoxicating in a completely different way. It’s slower, deeper, like you’re savoring the feel of him.
Everything is happening too fast, too intensely, but he doesn’t want to stop. Hyunjin feels the contrast between the two of you—Sienna’s confidence, your softness—melding into something that makes his breath hitch, and when you’re not capturing his lips, you’re leaving kisses along his jaw, his neck, making his head tip back as heat spreads through him like wildfire. He's completely at your mercy.
As Sienna captures his lips in a kiss again, her hands are already working their way down, her fingertips grazing along the waistband of his jeans before expertly popping the button open. You exchange quiet glances with her before your hands join hers, teasing at the fabric, watching as Hyunjin shifts beneath your touch as you slowly pulls the zipper open, the sound cutting through the silence in the room. His body reacts before his mind catches up, a sharp inhale betraying him as you and Sienna work together to rid him of the heavy denim.
You exchange amused glances at his flustered state, the way he swallows hard and clenches his jaw as if that will help him keep control. But control is slipping, unraveling with every brush of your fingers, every teasing glance exchanged between you and Sienna. He barely exhales your name before you press your palm against his clothed cock, feeling the bulge and the way it slightly twitches under your touch. Sienna follows, palming his confined bulge in her hand, her gaze flickering to yours in silent delight. “He’s so worked up,” she muses, her voice a sultry whisper. “Feel that?”
You hum, casually slipping your hand inside his brief and wrapping your fingers around him in response, softly sighing at how hot and how stiff he is. Sienna giggles softly, yanking the brief down to set his erection free before joining yours, the two of you moving in tandem, pumping his cock in slow, teasing movements, drawing out every reaction from him.
Hyunjin’s lips parted open, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as the two of you share a knowing smile, fully aware of the effect you have on him. There’s no escaping it now. Not when you and Sienna are here, unraveling him piece by piece. Before he can process it, Sienna shifts lower, her lips ghosting over his skin, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. You follow her lead, mirroring her movements on the other side, kissing him down his ribcage, your breath featherlight against him.
Every nerve in his body is on high alert, anticipation coiling tight in his stomach. He sucks in a breath when Sienna presses an open-mouthed kiss to his abdomen, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his skin. You do the same, your lips brushing against his hip, and he twitches beneath your touch. He’s already overwhelmed, and neither of you have even done anything yet. His head falls back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as you and Sienna continue your slow exploration of him, your joined hands continuously pumping his cock at a steady pace. There’s a teasing quality to it, an unspoken challenge to see how long he can last before he completely unravels. He lets out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at the sheets, fighting the urge to grab onto something—onto you.
Then, Sienna’s voice cuts through the haze, low and teasing. “Look at him,” she muses, casting a glance your way. “He’s barely keeping it together.”
Hyunjin swallows hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze, and the knowing glint in your eyes makes his pulse stutter. You tilt your head, your hand moves up to the crest of his cock in a slow, deliberate motion.
“Should we take it easy on him?” you ask, your voice smooth, almost playful.
Sienna hums, pretending to think about it, before shaking her head. “Not a chance.”
Hyunjin believes it's the pill, whatever that is, it makes him feel way too relax that he lets out a breathless laugh in response, a mix of nerves and exhilaration, and he knows—he’s in deep, and there’s no coming back from this.
-
The heat in the room is palpable, thick with the scent of skin and something deeper—something unspoken. You and Sienna exchange a glance before leaning down, together the two of you land a long lick down his length from each side, slick and hot, Hyunjin shivers from the overwhelming sensation.
“Fuck...” The profanity repeatedly falls out of his mouth in low, breathless murmurs as he lies back against the pillows, his breath uneven as he watches the way you and Sienna move.
This time, you and Sienna run your tongue from the base of his cock, landing another long lick upward until your tongues meet at the tip and crashing against each other. He can feel every swirl of you and Sienna’s tongue brushing against the tip of his cock, not caring about the way your saliva dribbling from the corner of your mouth and wetting his cock.
Sienna takes over, putting him into her mouth when he least expects it. She hums against him and it's vibrating, making the knot inside him tightens. You reach for her hair, putting it away and holding it for her, allowing Hyunjin to see the way Sienna’s voluptuous lips wrapped around him. Despite his sheer size, Sienna manages to take most of him with her mouth before pulling away, gasping for air the moment she lets go.
“He's quite mouthful,” Sienna comments with a sheepish laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Despite it, you take all of your hair to the side and Sienna is quick enough to hold it for you as you lean down, taking your turn to take Hyunjin’s swollen cock into your mouth.
“Take it slowly,” Sienna murmurs, another hand putting your hair away from covering your face.
Obeying her words, you take him slowly, careful even. You take an inch and then pull back just enough to take another inch. You're being patient while Hyunjin is getting impatient under you, accidentally jerking his hips forward, causing you to pull away immediately.
"Somebody is impatient," Sienna teases, flashing a smirk toward Hyunjin.
Hyunjin fumbles to sit up on the bed, looking at you with a worried look as you fall into a coughing fit. Despite his concern, you crack a laugh as you quickly wipe your mouth. "We're good," you say.
Sienna shares a glance with you, a silent understanding passing between you before you both begin to move. Sienna settles on his right, facing his side, putting her legs over his thighs and you mirror her position on his other side, putting your legs over Sienna’s and planting them on each side of her. At the same time, you bring your cores together until Hyunjin’s cock clamped in between. His body tenses when he feels the warmth and the wet of your bare cunts pressing against him from both sides.
Your hands propped against the mattress as a support as you lift your hips and Hyunjin groans as he can feel the way your cleft rubber against his stiff cock. Sienna does the same, doubling the pleasure, making him even more helpless. Together, you and Sienna start moving. The slow, teasing drag of your wetness against his has him drawing in a sharp breath, his hands instinctively gripping the sheets. His breath ragged, his chest rises and falls with each unsteady inhale. Yet, he dares himself to see, keeping his eyes open to admire the view. The dim light casts a golden glow over your skin, highlighting every curve, every movement. His head turns to you, he likes the way your head dropped to the back, the way your breasts jiggling from the slightest of movement and the way you lowly moaning as you chase your high. The best part about it is having two versions of that view.
Hyunjin must be living in a dream because how come? How come this is happening to him? How come these hot girls are rubbing themselves against his cock? His head tilts back, his jaw clenched as he tries to keep himself from unraveling too soon. Every time his cock slides against the folds, it feels electrifying, making it impossible for him to think straight. And then, he catches you turn your head his way, a lazy, sly smile plastered on your face, stirring something inside of him that makes his eyes darken, flickering with something unreadable—desire, surrender, maybe even something deeper.
The next thing he knows, he sees your hips stuttering and he feels you pulsating against him, though you keep rubbing yourself against him in a slow, ragged motions. Sienna reaches her high not long after, letting herself collapsing onto the bed as she relishes her orgasm.
For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your slowed breathing and this time, Hyunjin takes the initiative, he sits up on the bed and crawls over to you, finding you flushed and spent, but from the sly, contented smile painted on your face, he can tell that you're ready for more.
-
The room is bathed in dim, golden light, the air thick with heat and the lingering effects of the wine and whatever Sienna had given you earlier. Your body feels like it’s floating, every touch amplified, every sensation electric.
Hyunjin is above you now, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes dark and hazy. His body presses against yours, solid and warm, and the feeling sends a slow, shivery heat rolling through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he looks right now—his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, his skin reddening around the neck and chest, and Gosh, you like how his body feels against you.
Drawn by the heat, Sienna settles right beside you, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your thigh as she watches you and Hyunjin with lazy amusement. Hyunjin's plush lips find yours, soft and searching, before trailing down the curve of your jaw, then lower, dragging over your throat, your collarbone. Every kiss, every brush of his mouth, makes your skin hum with anticipation. You reach up, fingers sinking into his dark locks, tugging lightly, and a quiet groan rumbles from his chest. Sienna palms your breast before offering it to Hyunjin and he wastes not time to put it into his mouth, he latches his lips around your nipple, sucking at it hard before letting go with a gasp.
Sienna chuckles beside you, her hand moving to skim over Hyunjin’s back. “Didn’t think you had it in you,” she teases, her voice a sultry whisper.
Hyunjin exhales sharply, his lips ghosting over your sternum before he turns his head toward Sienna. “Neither did I,” he admits, his voice rougher than usual.
The three of you are tangled together, limbs brushing, skin against skin, the space between you charged with something intoxicating. Sienna leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, her fingers slipping into Hyunjin’s hair, pulling him closer so that all three of you are pressed together in a dizzying heat. Everything feels heightened—the press of hands, the slide of lips, the way your body arches instinctively into every touch. You don’t know where one sensation ends and another begins, only that you’re completely caught in it, completely lost in the moment.
Then, Hyunjin sits up on the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded as he takes you and Sienna in—both of you sprawled out naked before him, breathless and flushed, skin still humming from everything that’s happened. His gaze lingers, drinking in the way your bodies press together, the way your lips still taste Sienna’s in lazy, lingering kisses. You shiver as his fingers ghost over your skin, tracing a slow path down your arm, over your waist, then lower. He does the same to Sienna, his touch exploring, learning, memorizing. You feel Sienna’s lips part against yours when his fingers glides lower from your abdomen then slip between your thighs, teasing, pressing, coaxing. Your breath stutters, but you don’t stop kissing Sienna. If anything, it only deepens, your bodies shifting closer as Hyunjin’s touch grows bolder, he palms both sex with the same gentleness, his fingers fluttering between your folds before he slips two fingers in.
You and Sienna moan into each other’s mouth while Hyunjin's eyes shifting from side to side, watching as four of his fingers pumping in and out of you and Sienna simultaneously. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as he maintains the same speed on each hand, he occasionally leans down to tease the bundle of nerves with his mouth. His fingers work between you both, exploring, stroking, drawing soft sounds from your lips. You and Sienna responding by arching your back, asking for more. Your breath catches as Hyunjin’s fingers curl just right, dragging pleasure from deep within you. Sienna trembles against you, her own body tightening, her soft gasps mixing with yours.
Hyunjin doesn’t stop—not yet. He watches, fascinated, as your thighs twitch, helplessly clawing at his wrist. His other hand works between her legs with the same deliberate rhythm, and you can hear the way her breath stutters, how her fingers dig into your waist as she loses herself in the moment.
It’s almost overwhelming—the heat, the tension, the way everything builds between the three of you. And then, all at once, it crashes over you like a wave. You shudder, pressing into Sienna, feeling her body tense at the same time, both of you unraveling together.
Hyunjin exhales, his hands slowing, his touch turning gentle as he watches the way you both fall apart beneath him. He lingers a moment longer, tracing soft circles over sensitive skin, before finally withdrawing.
Breathless, bodies still humming with the lingering effects of pleasure, you and Sienna exchange a glance before turning your attention to Hyunjin. His hands hover in the space between you, fingers still damp from the moment before. Without a word, you take one hand, Sienna takes the other, and together, you guide his fingers to your lips. Your tongue flicks over his skin, tasting the remnants of your own warmth as you let your lips close around him. Sienna mirrors your actions, her eyes flickering up to Hyunjin’s face as she does. His expression is somewhere between dazed and captivated, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
A quiet hum of satisfaction escapes Sienna as she pulls back, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip of his finger before releasing him. You follow suit, letting your teeth graze lightly over his knuckles before finally pulling away, your gaze locking onto his.
Hyunjin swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he exhales a shaky breath, his hands falling to his lap. The air is thick, charged with something neither of you can quite name.
And then, Sienna breaks the silence with a low, amused chuckle. “You look like you’re about to pass out,” she teases, nudging Hyunjin’s thigh with her knee.
You smirk, reaching for his hand that is resting on your thigh. “Maybe we should give him a break.”
Hyunjin exhales a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice still slightly hoarse. “A break… might be good.”
Sienna shifts to lay on her side and props a hand under her head. “We’ll see about that.”
-
Hyunjin's breath is heavy, his body warm and flushed as he moves between you and Sienna. His hands glide over your skin, gripping, holding, anchoring himself as he loses himself in the moment. The heat of the room, the way you’re hovering above Sienna, your bodies pressed together with his cock slipping in between your cores, the rhythmic movement—it all blurs together into something intoxicating.
You feel his fingertips digging into your waist, his pace wavering as exhaustion creeps into his limbs, but he doesn’t stop. He’s caught between you, lost in the sounds of your moans of pleasure, in the way your bodies react to his every touch.
When his release finally comes, it’s with a shuddering gasp, his hands tightening around you as he lets go completely. You turn over, lying next to Sienna as Hyunjin kneeling on the bed, his hand roughly pumping his cock to keep the stimulation going until he finally comes, the white arch of his seed painting streaks on your stomach and Sienna’s waist, more strings landing on your thigh.
Content and spent, Hyunjin collapses onto the bed between you and Sienna, chest rising and falling rapidly, his skin damp with sweat. His limbs feel heavy, spent, but his mind is still spinning, still replaying the way you looked beneath him, the way you felt against him.
Sienna lets out a breathless chuckle beside him, wiping the mess he made with a towel. "Damn… we really wore you out, huh?"
For a long moment, none of you speak, only the sound of labored breathing filling the space. Hyunjin forces his eyes open, turning his head toward you. His gaze lingers on your face, taking in the lazy smile playing on your lips. And as exhaustion pulls him deeper into the haze, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at you the same way again.
The night turns quiet, the kind of stillness that settles deep into the bones. The only sounds in the villa is the occasional rustling of the trees outside. Inside the bedroom, the air is thick with warmth, the aftermath of everything that happened still clinging to the sheets.
Hyunjin lies in the dark, his body heavy against the mattress, his breath still unsteady. Beside him, you shift slightly, the soft brush of your skin against his sending a slow burn through his veins. Sienna is already asleep, her breathing deep and steady, but you’re still awake—he can tell by the way your fingers ghost over his abdomen, the way your lips find his in slow, lingering kisses.
He kisses you back, his hand sliding over your waist, pulling you closer. He likes the way you feel against him, how easily you fit into him like you belong there. And then, you drag your lips and presses it close to his ear.
“I want to feel you inside me,” you whisper, your fingers dancing, teasing the skin around his semi-hard.
He turns his head to the side, catching your eyes gleaming against the dark. He holds your chin, bringing it close until his lips only a breath away. With his voice is low and hoarse, he whispers back, “I want to feel you around me too.”
He can feel your lips curve into a smile before you kiss him again, teasing, tempting. You put one leg over his, clutching to his side as you kiss him deeper, harder—but instead of pressing forward, you pull back, your fingertips tracing along his jaw.
“But I can barely keep my eyes open anymore,” you murmur with a sheepish laugh, exhaustion lacing your words. “To be continued?”
Hyunjin exhales a quiet laugh, his forehead resting against yours. There’s a promise in your words, one he holds onto even as his body aches for more. He nods, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Okay,” he whispers, kissing you one last time.
You smile sleepily and settle beside him, your body warm against his. Within moments, your breathing evens out, and he knows you’ve drifted off.
The night stretches on, quiet and undisturbed, wrapping the villa in a hush that feels almost sacred. The weight of exhaustion pulls at him, but his mind refuses to quiet. Instead, he replays your words in his head.
To be continued? He doesn’t know what this means, where it will take the two of you, or if it’s just the lingering haze of the night making everything feel heavier than it should. But still, he hopes. Hopes that when the moment comes, you’ll still want him the way he wants you. Hopes that no matter what, you’ll keep your promise.
-
In the morning, sunlight floods the bedroom, casting a golden glow across the room. Hyunjin stirs awake to the soft warmth pressed against his side. His body feels heavy, the remnants of last night’s haze still lingering as he blinks himself into consciousness. Sienna shifts beside him, her arm draped over his chest, her body curled comfortably against his. His breath hitches for a moment, and instinctively, he turns his head—searching.
Your side of the bed is empty. The sheets are slightly rumpled, still holding the ghost of your warmth, but you’re nowhere in sight. Before he can dwell on it, Sienna stirs. She lets out a lazy sigh, stretching her arms before her eyes flutter open. A smirk tugs at her lips as she catches the way Hyunjin stiffens beside her.
“Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice laced with sleep and amusement.
Hyunjin swallows, shifting awkwardly. His mind is still piecing together the fragments of last night—the heat, the closeness, naked bodies tangled together. His flustered expression must be obvious because Sienna chuckles, propping herself up on one elbow.
“Relax,” she says, patting his chest. “We didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
His eyes widen slightly, and Sienna laughs at his reaction. “We were just having fun,” she adds, her tone light. “That’s all.”
Hyunjin exhales slowly, nodding, though the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fully ease. Fun. That’s what last night was. That’s all it was supposed to be. Why does it feel like something more to him?
He pulls on his shirt as he follows Sienna out of the bedroom, his body still sluggish from sleep. The villa is quiet except for the faint sound of something sizzling in the kitchen. As they step into the open space, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and eggs fills the air.
There you are, standing by the stove, casually dressed in an oversized shirt—his, he realizes. The hem barely reaches your thighs, and for a second, he lets himself admire the way you looked, your face is bare and your hair is a mess, but despite all that, your beauty shines the same.
You turn at the sound of their footsteps, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Good morning,” you greet, scraping the scrambled eggs off the pan. “Breakfast is ready.”
Hyunjin hesitates, watching you move so effortlessly around the kitchen, as if nothing happened—as if last night hadn’t unraveled into something that still lingers in his mind.
Sienna hums, stretching her arms above her head before making her way to the counter. “You’re an angel,” she sighs, picking up a piece of toast from the tray.
You chuckle, pouring coffee into two mugs before sliding them across the counter toward them. “Go ahead and eat,” you say, placing plates in front of them. “I made enough for all of us.”
Hyunjin sits down, his fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic of his cup. You move with ease, humming softly under your breath, completely unbothered. He doesn’t even know what he expected—maybe a glance, a smirk, some kind of acknowledgment that last night meant something. But there’s nothing. Just you, acting as if it were any other morning, as if nothing between you and him had changed. And somehow, that disappoints him more than he’d like to admit.
The three of you eat in peaceful silence, the soft clinking of utensils against plates the only sound filling the space. Hyunjin focuses on his food, chewing slowly as he steals a few glances your way. You remain casual, eating with no hint of hesitation or tension from the night before. If anything, you seem completely at ease, which only frustrates him more.
Then, you pull out your phone, unlocking it with a few taps before turning the screen toward Sienna. “Do you know this guy, uh... Felix?” you ask, showing her a Lustre profile.
Sienna leans in, squinting at the screen before her lips part in recognition. “Oh, yeah! Felix—I know him. He’s one of the top creators on Lustre. Super popular. Why?” She looks at you curiously, setting down her fork.
You take a sip of your coffee before replying. “He reached out to me,” you say, glancing between them. “Asked if I wanted to do a collab with him.”
Hyunjin grips his fork a little tighter. He doesn’t know why he’s even reacting this way. This has nothing to do with him.
Still, his stomach churns as Sienna continues, already listing the potential benefits of working with Felix. “I mean, the exposure alone would be insane. He has a huge following, and his audience would definitely subscribe to you after a collab.”
Sienna smirks, but her expression shifts when you remain serious. “So… are you gonna do it?”
You take a sip of your coffee, your fingers drumming lightly against the mug. “I haven’t decided yet.”
The words ring in Hyunjin’s head, louder than they should. He exhales slowly through his nose, forcing himself to stay silent because at the end of the day, he’s just your photographer. That’s all he is. But then, as if his own thoughts betray him, he remembers what you whispered to him last night.
To be continued?
-
✨ Chapter II of Cam is available on my Patreon page ✨
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warnings: breaking the bro code, han so needy, clit play, sex withpit protecction (dont be stupid), dirty talk, creampie
KARMA Serie
The first time you saw Han after the breakup, you almost turned around and left.
It was at your ex’s apartment—the one place you promised yourself you wouldn’t step into again. But your things were still there, stuffed in boxes your ex had been “too busy” to return. You told yourself you could handle it, just walk in, collect your things, walk out. Simple.
Except nothing about this was simple.
Because when the door opened, it wasn’t your ex standing there. It was Han.
He froze when he saw you, one hand gripping the doorknob, his eyes wide, almost panicked. His voice cracked slightly when he said your name, like he hadn’t let himself say it out loud in months.
You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore how your chest squeezed. “Uh… your friend told me I could come pick up my stuff today.”
Han nodded too quickly. “Right, yeah. He’s not here. He asked me to wait for you.”
The silence between you stretched, heavy with things neither of you could say. You stepped inside, brushing past him, and even though you didn’t touch, you felt the heat of his body too close.
He shouldn’t look at you like that, you thought. Not with that mix of guilt and longing burning in his eyes.
Because Han wasn’t just anybody. He was your ex’s best friend.
It started small.
The way his gaze lingered when you spoke. The way his hand brushed yours when he passed you a box. The way he flinched whenever your ex’s name came up, like it was a slap.
You told yourself you were imagining it, but deep down you knew—you weren’t.
Han was in love with you.
And the worst part? You felt something too.
You tried to avoid him after that day, but Han had a way of appearing when you least expected. He’d drop by your work under the excuse of “picking something up for your ex.” He’d text you about things he didn’t really need to tell you. He’d hover at the edge of your life like a shadow that refused to leave.
Every time, you reminded yourself: He’s off-limits. He’s forbidden. He’s your ex’s best friend.
But every time, it got harder to ignore the way his voice dropped when he said your name. The way his hand trembled when it brushed yours. The way his jaw clenched when he saw someone else talking too close to you.
The breaking point came late one night.
You were at a small gathering with mutual friends. He was there too, of course. You told yourself you wouldn’t even talk to him, but fate had other plans.
Halfway through the night, you slipped to the first bedroom you could find to get some air. The music thumped faintly through the walls, the city lights glowing beyond. You were just starting the window to relax when the door creaked, and Han stepped out.
He froze when he saw you, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“You okay?” he asked, voice soft.
You nodded. “Just needed some space.”
For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at you like he was memorizing every detail. And then he broke, voice rough with something that had been caged too long.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
Your heart stopped. “Do what?”
He laughed bitterly, dragging a hand through his hair. “Pretend I don’t want you. Pretend I haven’t wanted you since the first day I met you. Pretend I don’t think about you every damn night.”
You stared, words caught in your throat.
“You’re his ex. You’re the one person I can’t touch. But—” His voice cracked, and he stepped closer, eyes desperate, pleading. “—I don’t care anymore. I can’t stop.”
And then his mouth was on yours.
The kiss was messy, desperate, like he’d been starving and finally got a taste. His hands cupped your face, trembling, as if afraid you’d disappear.
You should have pushed him away. You should have said no. But the truth was—you’d been waiting for this too.
You kissed him back, hungry, greedy, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. His breath hitched, and a broken whimper escaped his lips against yours, the sound of someone who had been holding back for far too long.
When his hands slid down to your waist, gripping you like you were the only real thing in the world, you gasped his name. "Jisung—”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes wide, lips swollen. “Tell me to stop. Please. Tell me to stop and I will.”
But you didn’t.
Instead, you whispered, “Don’t stop.”
And that was all it took.
He backed you against the wall, kissing you like a man possessed. His hands roamed desperately, sliding under your shirt, tracing the lines of your body like he needed proof you were real.
“God—” he groaned into your neck, voice shaking. “You don’t know what you do to me. I’ve wanted this—I’ve wanted you—for so long.”
His confession burned against your skin, each word dripping with need.
When his fingers slipped under the waistband of your jeans, you gasped, clutching at his shoulders. He froze, eyes searching yours, silently begging for permission.
The moment you nodded, he exhaled shakily, relief flooding his face. “Fuck, I need you—please—just let me, I’ll make you feel so good—”
Desperation poured from him in every touch, every kiss. He wasn’t careful—he was hungry. His hands trembled as they slid lower, his lips trailing frantic kisses down your throat, your collarbone, as though he was worshipping every inch of skin he could reach.
When he finally touched you properly, his breath caught, a choked moan spilling from him at the feeling of your warmth. “You’re so wet already—fuck—do you know how many nights I’ve imagined this?”
The way he spoke, the way he confessed everything with his voice breaking—it only made you ache more.
You grabbed his face, pulling him back into a kiss, swallowing his whimpers as he worked you with shaky fingers, desperate to please you, desperate to hear you fall apart for him.
“Please—say my name,” he begged against your lips, his pace quickening.
“Jisung,” you gasped, and the sound tore a groan from his chest, like it undid him completely.
He was unraveling, piece by piece, and you loved watching him fall apart.
He took his hand out of your panties and tried to pull them off with one hand. He wasn't careful. He was hungry, hungry for you, and you loved it. Now it was your turn, so you pulled down his pants, boxers included, to pull out his aching erection. You finally saw him, full of precum and with a red tip, as if he was desperate too.
He took the base of his cock and aligned it with your entrance. When he finally pushed his cock inside you, it was overwhelming: messy, frantic, too much and not enough. He buried his face in your neck, moaning your name like a prayer, holding you so tightly it was almost painful.
“I’m sorry—I can’t—I can’t be slow—I’ve wanted you too long—” His thrusts were uneven, frantic, his voice breaking with every word. “Fuck—you feel so good—I knew you would—I knew it—”
You clung to him, lost in the way he trembled against you, the way his lips found yours between desperate moans. It wasn’t perfect—it was raw, hungry, soaked in years of longing.
He whispered everything he’d never said, between kisses and groans: how he’d watched you smile at his best friend and wished it was him, how he hated himself for wanting you, how he swore no one could touch you like this.
“You wanna cum, right? Cum around me?” His voice was low, but it still felt like poison. Your ex’s best friend thrusting his cock into you uncontrollably, asking you if you wanted to cum around him. It was so forbidden, but god, so arousing at the same time.
“Please—I can´t, please Jisung, i want it.”The shame was no longer felt in your words, instead only excitement and desire to finally untie the knot that was forming below your stomach.
And as if your words encouraged him, he lowered his hand to your most sensitive area and began to move your clit in circles, not slowly, but quickly and filled with something he'd been holding back for years.
It was too much, him whispering in your ear when he wanted you, his cock thrusting uncontrollably into you, and his thumb working your clit.
And when you came around him, his name spilling from your lips, he cried out, shuddering, burying himself deeper as he followed you, his whole body shaking with the force of it.
You could feel how close he was, how his thrusts were getting messier and faster, how his cock was contracting around you.
“Please—let me cum inside you—please, you don’t know how much I want it.” The heat and desire to feel Han paint your walls white in the moment made you nod.
“Thank you—seriously, thank you,” he said, his voice dropping an octave and his thrusts getting even faster.
And when he did it, he did it right. He filled you where no one ever had, and it felt so wrong, but at the same time so good. It felt good to see Han squirt inside you, how he begged you to cum inside you, how his face twitched when he came.
For a long time, you just clung to each other, hearts racing, breaths uneven. His lips pressed against your hairline, soft now, almost reverent.
“I shouldn’t have done this,” he whispered, voice breaking. “But I can’t regret it. Not when it’s you.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Because deep down, you knew this wasn’t the end.
It was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.
I would love to request a Han x latina reader anything you want I trust ur writing 💯 % im not picky make it as 🌶️ 🌶️ as you like 🙃🙃
Say That Again
Han x Latina! GF Reader
Okay so I’ve never written anything based on one specific race, I try to make my fics in a way where the reader can be perceived as any race so bear with me here…. Also- DeepL Translate was my best friend in this. (Most accurate translator I’ve ever used btw and I highly recommend it to everyone)
Anywaysssss- what happens when Han hears you speaking Spanish over the phone talking to your friends… doesn’t understand a damn word… but gets turned tf on? Panty soaking, thigh clenching smut. And as per usual: Eat a snack, drink some water, put a towel down, and get ready to read ;)
Content warning: praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks!!), spanking (light), use of “mami”, multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, Han is a total simp
word count: ~1000
Master list
Lmk if you want to be added to my tag list ☺️
You’re lounging on the bed, sprawled across the sheets, phone pressed to your ear. Spanish flows off your lips like silk, soft and teasing, rhythmic and musical. Han is in the living room, working—or trying to—but the moment your voice floats to him, he freezes.
He leans against the doorway, pretending to scroll on his phone, but he’s not listening to music. He’s listening to you. Every syllable hits him harder than he expects. Your laughter, your sighs, the way your tongue rolls certain words—he doesn’t understand a single thing, not a word—but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to. It’s your voice, your tone, the way your words slide off your tongue, and it’s making him hotter than he’s ever been.
“Sí, nos vemos el sábado.” (Yes, see you on Saturday) you murmur, and he swallows thickly, pressing a hand to his groin. God, he’s never felt anything like this. It’s like hearing a private song written just for him—playful, teasing, untouchable… until now.
When you finally hang up, you catch him leaning against the doorway, eyes dark, jaw tight. “Han… were you listening?” you tease, smirk curling at the corners of your mouth.
“I… maybe,” he admits, voice low, rough. “I don’t even know what you’re saying… but it’s… holy fuck, it’s driving me insane.”
You bite your lip, crawling closer across the bed, letting your hair spill over your shoulders. “Oh really? I could… make you feel even more insane,” you murmur, voice husky, almost daring.
Han doesn’t wait for more. He’s at the edge of the bed, lips claiming yours in a messy, hungry kiss. Tongues clash, teeth nip, and his hands are already roaming, squeezing, teasing. He groans into your mouth as your Spanish spills again, soft moans and playful phrases tumbling off your lips. He doesn’t understand a word, but the sound of it—the rhythm, the tease—is pure torture.
⸻
He’s holding you close, teeth grazing your jaw, thumbs circling your nipples over your bra. “Say something… anything… in Spanish,” he demands, voice ragged.
You smirk, leaning into his chest. “¿Quieres que te haga sentir… bien?” (Do you want me to make you feel... good) you whisper, and his knees nearly buckle. The way your voice sounds, even without meaning, has him dripping with need.
He lowers himself to your chest, lips and tongue worshiping your breasts, fingers kneading your ass, teasing the crease between your cheeks. “God… I don’t even know what you just said… but you sound so fucking perfect like that,” he groans.
You writhe under him, hips pressing into his, teasing with every syllable. “¿Te gusta... cuando te hablo así...?” (Do you like it…when I talk to you like this…?) you breathe, voice low and sultry.
His fingers slip inside your panties, brushing your soaked folds, teasing the clit with gentle strokes. “Fuck…” he groans, burying his face in your neck. “You’re mine, mami… and your voice is killing me.”
You cry out, voice breaking, moans tumbling out, and he groans even louder, pressing into you, his cock already straining.
⸻
By the time he strips off your panties, he’s shaking. You’re already dripping, needy, desperate for him. He teases the tip over your entrance, groaning at how wet you are. “Fuck… I don’t know what any of this means… but I need it. I need you,” he rasps.
He slides in slowly, groaning as he fills you completely. You gasp, fingers clawing at his shoulders as he begins a torturously slow rhythm, letting you adjust, letting him savor it.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he groans. “Every word you whispered… it’s all in my head… and I can’t—fuck, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
You writhe under him, hips matching his, whispering broken Spanish, letting him feel every syllable against his skin. “Más… más rápido… por favor… Han…” (more…faster…please…Han)
His thrusts pick up, harder, faster. One hand cups your breast while the other slides down to rub your clit, circling and pressing in tandem with his hips. “Oh god… that’s it… yes…” He moans every word, every syllable, as if it’s music he’s never heard before.
You scream his name, Spanish and English mixing together, your first orgasm ripping through you, thighs trembling, hips clenching around him. He groans, not far behind, stretching you, holding back just enough to tease.
⸻
He doesn’t give you time to recover. He flips you onto your stomach, lifting your hips and teasing from behind. “Say something… say anything…” he growls, gripping your hips as he slides in from behind, slow at first, then punishingly hard.
“Ven dentro de mí .. por favor” (come inside me…please)you gasp, the broken Spanish spilling out, dripping with need. He groans, fingers tangling in your hair, voice rough and deep.
“Oh fuck… yes… holy fuck, you’re mine,” he groans, driving into you with forceful, needy strokes. He slaps your ass, watching your back arch, listening to your gasps, every moan like fire in his chest.
He leans down, lips at your ear. “I love how you sound like this… every word… every moan… fuck, I’m losing it,” he rasps, thrusts never slowing.
You cry out, thighs trembling, second orgasm slamming into you, waves after waves, and he groans, spilling into you with a guttural moan, holding you tight.
⸻
You collapse together, bodies slick and tangled, breaths ragged. He presses his forehead to yours, hands still gripping your hips possessively. “I don’t understand a single word you said,” he admits, voice low and rough, “but I want… every word… every sound… every bit of you… forever.”
You giggle, tracing his jaw, still trembling. “I can do that… anytime,” you murmur.
He groans softly, already imagining the next time you’ll speak, the next time he’ll hear you in Spanish and lose all control again. “You’re mine,” he murmurs, and you feel it in every touch, every heartbeat, every lingering shiver.
TYSM for reading!!
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Hey bestie😽first of all i looooveee ur fics!! i have a story request for u!! could u please write a flirty playboy hyunjin x a female backstage worker at a concert during skz tour. could the plot be something like hyunjin is trying to hide from the other members to avoid work or soundcheck or something and the fem backstage worker gets dragged into the situation (and gets freaked by him lol in the process and maybe gets caught by felix or bangchan). please make it like really sensual and the fem is kinda a fan so she is like really hot and heavy (lol) when he approaches her. thank you please work ur magic 😙😙🧘🏼♀️
Back stage
Hyunjin x F!Staff member reader
Rose (can I call ya rose?) you little slut… That’s so fucking hot oh my god… so many of yall come up with some of the best requests and I absolutely love it .
I got a little carried away with this panty soaking, thigh clenching smut. As per usual: Eat a snack, drink some water, put a towel down, and get ready to read ;)
Content warning: semi-public sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks!!), teasing, fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple rounds, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, mirror sex, praise.
The backstage hallways hummed with chaos—staff hurrying with clipboards, techs running last-minute checks, and voices overlapping in every direction. You had your lanyard tight around your neck, headset in place, trying to keep track of your own checklist. You weren’t supposed to notice the idols, weren’t supposed to stare, weren’t supposed to get flustered.
But then you caught sight of him.
Hwang Hyunjin, tall and unfairly beautiful even in casual sweats, moving like he owned the space. You tried to keep your eyes down, but your stomach still knotted. You’d been warned a dozen times that idols were off-limits, but that didn’t stop your pulse from tripping whenever you accidentally crossed paths.
You ducked into a side corridor with a clipboard in hand, double-checking a set of equipment requests. That’s when a voice purred low right behind you.
“Hey.”
You froze. Turned. Hyunjin leaned against the wall like he’d been waiting there just for you, dark eyes lit with mischief.
“Uh—hi?” you stammered, clutching your clipboard tighter.
His smile curved lazily. “You look busy. Perfect. That means you can help me.”
“Help you with… what?”
“Disappearing,” he said smoothly, glancing toward the main hall where you could hear staff calling for him. “They want me at soundcheck. I don’t feel like it. So… you’re gonna hide me.”
Before you could even process, his hand slid around your wrist, warm and firm, tugging you down the narrow hallway.
“H-Hyunjin—!”
“Shhh,” he murmured, smirking over his shoulder. “Don’t say my name so loud. Unless you want everyone to know you’ve got me all to yourself.”
Your breath caught at the way he said it—like he was teasing you, like he knew exactly how flustered you already were. He pushed open a supply closet door and nudged you inside before slipping in after you, shutting the door softly behind him.
Now you were pressed chest-to-chest in a space barely big enough for two people. His perfume lingered sharp and clean, and his hair brushed his cheekbones when he looked down at you.
Your back hit the shelves and you clutched your clipboard like a shield. “I—I’m working, I really shouldn’t—”
“Relax,” he said, voice low, almost purring. His hand braced above your head on the shelf, trapping you without touching. “We’re just hiding. Unless…” his eyes flicked over your face, your lips, “…you’d rather I make it interesting.”
You swallowed hard, heart hammering. You knew he was a flirt, knew his reputation among staff. But the way he leaned closer, his breath ghosting your ear—it was suddenly very real.
A shout echoed down the hallway outside: “Hyunjin! Soundcheck now!”
He grinned, pressed a finger to his lips, and leaned in even closer until his chest brushed yours. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer…”
⸻
The voices outside faded after a moment, staff running further down the hall in search of him. The cramped closet seemed to shrink with every second you were trapped inside. Hyunjin didn’t move away, not even an inch—if anything, he seemed amused by your nervous shifting.
“You’re really bad at hiding,” you whispered, staring at the buttons of his jacket instead of his eyes.
He tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lips. “And you’re really bad at pretending you don’t like this.”
Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. His confidence was infuriating—and unfairly effective.
Before you could form a comeback, he leaned back slightly, finally giving you some space. “Come on,” he murmured, opening the door a crack. “They’ll check every corner if we stay here.”
You followed him out, nerves prickling. He moved like a shadow through the hallways, ducking out of sight just as two crew members turned a corner. You trailed after him, your headset slipping down your neck in your rush.
“Where are we even going?” you hissed.
“My room,” he said simply, flashing you a grin that shouldn’t have made your chest tighten. “It’s the only safe place.”
Safe. Right. You weren’t sure anything about following him into his dressing room was safe. But when he opened the door and motioned you inside, you found yourself stepping over the threshold anyway.
The room was dimly lit, soft lamplight spilling across the couch, the vanity lights switched off. It smelled faintly of his cologne, sharp and clean, mixed with something warmer—his skin, maybe.
You lingered near the door. “I should get back. I—”
“Sit,” he cut in, pointing at the couch. Not commanding exactly, but smooth, persuasive. When you hesitated, he arched a brow. “Unless you’d rather sit on me.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks and you shuffled to the couch, clutching your clipboard like it could save you. He lounged beside you, long legs sprawled, head tilting as he studied you.
“So…” His voice dropped, quieter now that you were alone. “How long have you been working this tour?”
“Just this leg of it,” you managed. “Only a few weeks.”
“And already hiding idols in closets. Bold move.”
“I didn’t have a choice!” you protested. “You pulled me in—”
“Mm,” he hummed, leaning closer, eyes glinting. “But you didn’t push me out.”
Your breath caught. He was playing with you—teasing, cornering you with words alone. You wanted to tell him off, to stand your ground. But your body betrayed you, buzzing with adrenaline and heat.
The room stayed silent for a beat too long. Then he smirked, reaching out slowly, deliberately, to pluck the clipboard from your hands and set it aside.
“You don’t need that.” His fingers brushed yours as he did it—light, but electric.
You swallowed hard. “Hyunjin…”
“Yes?” he asked innocently, though his smile was anything but.
Before you could reply, a sharp knock rattled the door.
“Hyunjin?” Felix’s voice, muffled but close. “Hyung, you in there?”
You stiffened instantly, but Hyunjin just leaned back on the couch, calm as ever. His lips curved as he lifted a finger to his mouth again—shhh.
“Not now, Lix!” he called lazily, not even glancing toward the door. “I’m busy.”
Felix huffed a laugh through the door. “Busy doing what?”
Hyunjin’s gaze slid back to you, holding yours, that smirk growing downright wicked.
⸻
Hyunjin didn’t blink, didn’t move, even with Felix’s voice just a few feet away. He stayed leaned back on the couch, ankle crossed over his knee like he was perfectly at ease.
Meanwhile, your pulse was slamming so hard you were sure Felix could hear it through the door.
“Hyunjin?” Felix pressed again. “We need you for soundcheck.”
“Later,” Hyunjin replied smoothly, eyes locked on you. His lips curved in a lazy smirk. “Tell Chan I’m… busy.”
You almost choked, heat rushing to your cheeks. Hyunjin didn’t even flinch, didn’t laugh at his own double meaning. He just let the silence stretch while Felix lingered on the other side.
“Fine,” Felix finally sighed, his voice trailing away as footsteps receded down the hall.
The instant the sound was gone, the room felt ten times smaller. Hyunjin leaned forward, elbows on his knees, studying you like a cat that had finally cornered its prey.
“You’re cute when you panic,” he murmured.
“I wasn’t—” Your voice cracked, betraying you.
He laughed softly, sliding closer until your knees brushed. “You were. Your whole body went tense. Like you thought he was gonna walk in and see you all alone in here with me.”
“Because he could’ve!” you shot back, nerves crackling.
“And that would’ve been bad… why?” he asked, tilting his head.
You stared at him, at the curve of his smirk, at how close he was now. “Because I’m… staff. And you’re—”
“Hyunjin,” he interrupted, voice low and smooth. “Just Hyunjin. Right now, that’s all I am.”
The way he said it made your stomach flip. His knee pressed lightly against yours, testing, teasing. Then his hand lifted, fingers brushing just barely against your wrist, trailing higher, until his thumb rested in the center of your palm.
You could’ve pulled away. Should have. But instead you let him take your hand, let him tangle his fingers with yours, let him lean in until you could smell the faint trace of his cologne again.
“You’re blushing,” he whispered, lips ghosting near your temple.
“I’m not.”
He chuckled, deep and low. “Liar.”
His thumb stroked the inside of your palm, slow and deliberate. Every nerve in your body seemed tuned to that single point of contact.
“You know…” his voice dropped lower, brushing your skin like velvet, “…if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have a very hard time remembering you’re supposed to be off-limits.”
Your breath hitched. You hadn’t realized you were staring until he said it.
His smirk widened, eyes darkening as his free hand rose, fingers grazing your jaw, tilting your chin just enough to make you look at him directly. “Do you want me to stop?”
The question hung heavy in the air, your heart thundering loud enough you swore he could hear it.
But you didn’t say yes.
And Hyunjin… noticed.
His smirk melted into something slower, more dangerous. He leaned in, lips brushing so close you could feel the whisper of warmth but not quite a kiss. His voice was a murmur against your mouth:
“Then don’t blame me for what happens next.”
⸻
Your breath caught as his words lingered in the air. The room was quiet but for the faint hum of electricity from the lights and the pounding of your own pulse in your ears. Hyunjin’s face was so close, every blink of his long lashes brushing the edge of your vision, every exhale warming your skin.
Then finally, finally, he kissed you.
Not hard. Not urgent. Just a slow press of lips that seemed more like a test than anything else—testing whether you’d push him away, whether you’d melt into him. And when your hand twitched against his chest instead of shoving, when your lips parted in the smallest gasp, he smiled against your mouth.
“Thought so,” he murmured, and kissed you again—deeper this time, his thumb brushing your jaw, coaxing your mouth to open for him.
The taste of him made your knees weak, warm and dizzying, like every dream you weren’t supposed to have about him but did anyway. His tongue slid against yours, slow, teasing, until you were gripping at his hoodie just to ground yourself.
“See?” he whispered when he broke away for a breath, lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours. “You like this way too much to pretend.”
“I—” Your protest cut off in a sharp inhale as his hand left your jaw and skimmed lower, down your throat, pausing at the base where your pulse fluttered frantically under his touch. His smirk deepened as if he could feel your racing heartbeat.
“Fast,” he muttered, almost to himself. “So sensitive.”
His fingers trailed further, brushing over your collarbone, then slipping beneath the edge of your shirt like he owned the right. You shivered as his fingertips danced along your bare skin, featherlight, up and down your ribs.
“Hyunjin,” you breathed, though it came out more like a plea than a warning.
“Yes, baby?” he whispered back, lips finding your ear, then your jaw, then dragging down the slope of your neck in soft, open-mouthed kisses.
Your head tipped back automatically, giving him more space. His teeth grazed your skin once, playful, and you whimpered—his chuckle low and smug against your throat.
“That’s it,” he purred. “Let me hear you.”
He guided you back until you were flat against the couch cushions, his body braced over yours but not crushing. One hand slipped beneath your shirt, palm spreading warm across your stomach, then inching higher with a maddening patience.
“You’re shaking,” he teased, his thumb brushing the underside of your bra. “All this from just a few kisses?”
“It’s not—” you tried, but the words dissolved into a whimper when his thumb flicked just barely across your nipple through the thin fabric.
“Not what?” His voice was pure sin, lazy and low. “Not enough? Or not fair?”
Your nails dug into his hoodie. “You’re—god—you’re teasing me.”
Hyunjin’s grin was wolfish as his lips pressed back to yours, swallowing the breathy sound that escaped you when his hand finally slid under your bra, cupping you fully. His thumb rolled slow circles, drawing soft, helpless gasps from your throat.
“Mm,” he hummed into the kiss, pulling back only to drag his lips down your neck again. “Good thing we’ve got time, then. I’m not in a hurry.”
⸻
Hyunjin’s hand lingered over your breast, thumb teasing slow, lazy circles until your back arched against him. His kisses trailed lower, over the line of your throat, your collarbone, until he pulled your shirt down just enough to scrape his teeth lightly across the swell of your chest.
Your breath stuttered, the sound catching in your throat.
“Sensitive everywhere, huh?” he murmured, glancing up at you with that dangerous smirk. His lips brushed your skin again, softer this time, while his other hand slid down your side, fingers slipping beneath your waistband. Not low—just resting there, making your whole body tense with the anticipation.
You grabbed his wrist, not to stop him, but because you were trembling. “Hyunjin—”
He stilled, tilting his head. “Too much?”
You shook your head too fast. “No, I just—”
“Good.” His grin widened, wicked and pleased, as he dipped lower, his hand slipping fully beneath your waistband now. He didn’t touch where you wanted—not yet. Instead, he let his knuckles brush the top of your thigh, back and forth, like he had all the time in the world.
“Relax,” he whispered, nipping at your neck again. “You’ll get what you want. I just like watching you fall apart first.”
Your hips shifted involuntarily, chasing his touch, and he chuckled against your skin. “There it is. Knew you’d beg if I waited long enough.”
“I’m not begging,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed you, thin and shaky.
He hummed in mock agreement, finally letting his fingers slide lower until they brushed against the thin fabric of your panties. The warmth of his hand against the dampness there made your face burn hot, your body jerking under his.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the word sharp and husky. “Already this wet?”
You buried your face in his shoulder, half mortified, half desperate for more.
Hyunjin laughed low, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Don’t hide now. That’s the best part.” He pressed his fingers firmer against you, rubbing slow circles over your panties, making your hips buck.
“Hyun—” your voice broke on his name, breathless.
“Say that again,” he coaxed, kissing the corner of your mouth while his fingers worked you in slow, torturous circles.
Your head tipped back against the couch, lips parting with a moan you couldn’t quite swallow. He seized it immediately, kissing you hard this time, swallowing your sound as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric at last—hot, bare skin against you.
The first brush of his fingertips directly on your slick heat made your legs twitch, thighs clamping instinctively.
He groaned into your mouth, voice rough. “Shit, you’re dripping for me already. And I haven’t even started.”
⸻
Hyunjin kissed you again as his fingers slid lower, finally slipping between your folds. The first slow stroke had you gasping into his mouth, clutching at his hoodie like you might fall apart already.
“Shhh,” he murmured against your lips, smirking. “We don’t want anyone coming back, do we?”
Your head shook quickly, but then his fingers circled your clit and you nearly whined, your voice catching in your throat.
He groaned softly, dragging his mouth along your jaw, savoring the way you squirmed. “So wet… so ready for me. All from a few kisses, baby? You’re too easy.”
“Not—” you tried to protest, but your words broke when one of his fingers pressed inside you, slow and deliberate.
Your whole body jolted, back arching against the couch.
Hyunjin’s grin widened, dark and hungry. “Fuck, look at you. Taking me so well already.”
He pumped the finger in and out, slow, dragging the pace until you were writhing, your thighs trembling against his hips. Then, without warning, he pushed in a second finger, stretching you deeper.
“Hyun—!” you gasped, biting your lip hard, one hand flying to cover your mouth.
He caught your wrist immediately, pinning it to the couch above your head. His eyes burned into yours, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me.”
Your stomach flipped, heat flooding every nerve, and when he curled his fingers inside you just right, the moan tore out of your throat anyway.
“That’s it,” he praised, pumping faster now, his palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust. “Let them hear how much you love this. You can’t stop it, can you?”
Your hips bucked helplessly, chasing his rhythm, every stroke making you tighter around him. The slick sound of his fingers moving inside you filled the room, obscene, and he groaned low at the noise.
“God, listen to you,” he muttered, his own breathing growing heavier. “So messy, so greedy. You’re squeezing my fingers like you’ve been waiting for this all night.”
He kissed you again, hard and hungry, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you open for him. Each thrust came sharper now, his fingers driving deeper, curling up until sparks shot down your spine.
“Hyunjin—oh my god—”
“Say it louder,” he demanded, curling harder, faster, his thumb circling your clit mercilessly. “Say my name like you mean it.”
Hyunjin’s fingers moved with precision, curling and pumping inside you while his thumb rubbed mercilessly over your clit. Every stroke made your muscles tighten, every circle of his thumb sent sparks straight to your core.
“Shit… you’re so tight, so perfect,” he groaned against your lips, nipping lightly at your jaw. “Look at you—panting for me already.”
Your back arched, your hands trying to hold onto the couch, onto him, onto anything, but his grip on your wrist and thigh kept you trapped. “I—oh god, Hyunjin!” you gasped, breath hitching as your hips bucked wildly against his hand.
He smirked, pressing his chest against yours. “That’s it, baby. Let go for me. Take it. You’re mine tonight.”
His fingers curled inside you in just the right way, pumping faster, hitting that spot that had your body unraveling like a thread. Your head fell back, lips parting in a shuddering gasp as the warmth and pressure built uncontrollably.
“Hyun—Oh fuck—!” you moaned, claws digging into his shoulders, body trembling. The orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, and your legs shook, clamping around him instinctively.
Hyunjin groaned into your ear, his own voice thick with lust. “Shh, that’s it… ride it out for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers.”
And you did. Every tight, shuddering contraction, every breathless moan—your first orgasm erupted with him inside you, fingers curling and pumping until your body couldn’t help but quiver uncontrollably.
When it finally ebbed, you were a panting, trembling mess beneath him, chest heaving, sweat clinging to your skin. Hyunjin pulled his fingers out slowly, slick and glistening.
You could barely form a coherent thought, still riding the aftershocks, your body so sensitive that even his slightest touch made you jump. And the danger—the risk of someone walking in—made everything feel hotter, more forbidden.
⸻
Hyunjin leaned back, smirking at the way you were trembling, still gasping from your first orgasm. “You think you’re done, huh?” he murmured, voice low and wicked.
You shook your head weakly, breath hitching. “N-no… please…”
“Please what, baby?” he whispered, voice crawling down your spine. “Tell me what you want.”
“I… I want you… I want you to—”
He cut you off with a low chuckle, pressing a finger under your chin, tilting your face up. “Don’t tell me. Show me.”
Before you could think, he was sliding down the couch, knees braced on either side of you, lips brushing against your inner thigh, hot and teasing. “So wet still,” he murmured against your skin, nipping gently, making you shiver. “Already dripping for me again, baby?”
“Yes—please—Hyunjin—ah!” your voice broke into a moan when his tongue finally licked a long, deliberate line up to your dripping core.
He grinned against you, spreading your thighs wider, his fingers still lightly brushing over your hips to hold you open. Then, finally, his mouth closed over your clit, sucking and licking in slow, teasing strokes. Your body jolted, back arching, hands clutching at his hair instinctively.
“Shit—oh fuck, Hyun—!” you cried, hips bucking into his face.
He groaned deep in his throat, the vibrations sending another shudder through you. “You taste so fucking sweet, baby. So perfect for me.”
His tongue didn’t stop, circling, flicking, teasing every nerve until you were whimpering, grinding against his mouth, desperate for more. His fingers found their way back to your entrance, slipping inside slowly, curling just enough to make you gasp.
“Hyunjin—oh god—yes—fuck—”
“Shh, baby. Don’t fight it,” he murmured, one hand gripping your hip, the other still moving inside you. “Let me hear you cum for me again. Let me feel it.”
Every flick of his tongue, every curl of his fingers, drove you closer to the edge. He alternated between sucking, pressing, flicking, circling, making you writhe uncontrollably. Your hips bucked into his mouth, desperate for friction, desperate for release, and he chuckled low, loving how much control he had over you.
“Look at you, shaking for me,” he groaned, sliding a finger in and out faster, thumb rubbing your clit in perfect sync with his tongue. “So greedy, baby… you want me to make you cum again?”
“Yes—please—fuck—Hyunjin—oh god!”
And then it hit. The second orgasm ripped through you violently, hotter and sharper than the first. Your muscles clamped around him, squeezing his fingers, your moans muffled against the couch cushions and his mouth. He didn’t stop; he teased, circled, and licked you through the contractions until your body trembled, shaking uncontrollably, utterly spent.
Finally, he pulled back just enough to look up at you, smirk dark and satisfied. “There. That’s how it’s done, baby. Two times in a row… and we’re just getting started.”
You could only pant, chest heaving, barely able to form words, completely wrecked by him. His fingers still brushed lightly against your sensitive heat, reminding you that he wasn’t finished, not even close.
⸻
You were trembling, still coming down from your second orgasm, when Hyunjin leaned closer, hips pressing flush against yours. He didn’t give you a second to breathe—his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wide, and he slid inside you slowly, deliberately.
“Fuck… so tight…” he groaned, resting his forehead against yours as he started moving, slow at first, teasing. Your chest rose and fell, breathless, fingers clutching his shoulders.
“H-Hyunjin…” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.
He smirked against your temple. “Shh, baby. Quiet. Don’t want anyone hearing…”
Just as your hips started moving instinctively with his, a sharp knock rattled the door.
“Hyunjin! You in there? Soundcheck’s waiting!” Chan’s voice came muffled but urgent.
Your eyes went wide. You froze, thighs clamping instinctively around him.
Hyunjin groaned low, pressing his palm against your mouth lightly while he angled his hips against yours. “Quiet… I’ve got this,” he whispered fiercely. Then, lifting his hand from your mouth just a fraction, he called out, “Chan! Go away! I’m busy! I’ll be there in a minute!”
The knocking came again, harder. “Dude, really, we need you!”
You were squirming beneath him, thighs trembling, trying desperately to stay silent while he fucked you. Hyunjin’s pace didn’t slow, fingers digging into your hips, hips grinding deep and hard.
“Shhh, baby… don’t make a sound,” he murmured into your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. “I want you quiet for me… just me.”
Your chest heaved, muffled whimpers threatening to escape, and he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth, licking gently to swallow your noise. Then he groaned low, gripping your waist tighter, pounding into you harder.
“You like it… huh?” he whispered, voice thick. “Like being this naughty, getting caught and loving it?”
You nodded, biting your lip, holding back sounds as your body shook with need. “Y-yes… oh god, Hyunjin—“
His grin was dark and wicked as he drove into you again, relentless. “I know… I can feel it, baby. All this for me… not a peep, huh? Good girl.”
Another loud knock rattled the door, and you jumped, hips bucking involuntarily. Hyunjin groaned, holding you down. “Chan! I said—go away! I’m busy!” he barked, voice sharp, dangerous.
“You’re so wet… so perfect,” he groaned, dragging his thumb over your clit while still pounding deep inside you. “You’re gonna cum all over me again and you’re not allowed to make a sound.”
Your whole body tensed, hips jerking against him, as the friction and the fear combined into raw, desperate need. “Oh—Hyunjin! Ah—!” you tried to whisper, but your voice trembled anyway.
He kissed your shoulder, then your neck, muffling the soft whimpers while his hips continued to slam into you, fingers curling inside, hitting just the right spots. “Shhh… keep it quiet… just for me…”
Your stomach clenched, muscles tightening, and Hyunjin groaned, his own release threatening as he fucked you through every contraction, thumb circling mercilessly, pumping you toward another climax.
“Hyunjin… oh god—” you gasped silently, back arching, thighs shaking around him.
“Yes… that’s it, baby… cum for me again… quiet… don’t let him hear you…” His voice was rough, commanding, yet teasing. Every thrust, every curl of his fingers inside you, drove you higher until your third orgasm ripped through you—silent, shuddering, desperate, your body quivering under him.
He held you through the waves, grinning down at your flushed, trembling face. “That’s my girl… so quiet and perfect, even when I’m wrecking you,” he whispered, pumping into you slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him as your legs clamped tight around him.
Finally, the knocking faded. Chan’s voice disappeared down the hall. Hyunjin slowed, still deep inside you, letting you breathe, sweat clinging to your skin, still panting from everything he’d done.
⸻
Hyunjin groaned as he pulled back, sweat glistening on his chest, watching your trembling body beneath him. “You’re not done yet,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous.
Before you could protest, he hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting you with ease. Your gasp was muffled against his shoulder as he carried you across the room, pressing your body flush against his. “Hyunjin—wait—ah!”
He didn’t slow, didn’t let you catch your breath. The mirror in front of the vanity caught your reflection, and he grinned wickedly. “Watch yourself, baby. I want you to see exactly what I’m doing to you.
He bent you over the vanity, hands braced on the edge, your chest pressing lightly against the cool surface. Your legs quivered, the adrenaline, fear, and sheer lust making your knees wobble.
“Look at that,” he purred, fingers stroking along your spine, down to your ass. “All for me… and you get to watch.”
He lined himself up, pushing into you slowly, making you arch back into the glass. The first thrust sent shivers through you, body shaking as your reflection jerked with every movement.
“Fuck—look at you,” he groaned, one hand gripping your hip, the other pressing down on the vanity to steady himself. “So wet… so fucking desperate for me.”
Your hands clutched the edge, trying to keep balance as he began to fuck you harder, each stroke deeper, faster. The reflection in the mirror made your chest tighten—you could see yourself arching, lips parted, eyes wide and glazed with need.
“Hyunjin—oh god—ah!” you moaned, trying to keep your sounds in check, but the way he was thrusting left you helpless.
He leaned down, lips brushing your ear. “Shh… quiet for me, baby. But I know you want to scream. Look at yourself—so greedy, so perfect. You love this, don’t you?”
You shivered, hips bucking involuntarily as he pumped into you relentlessly. His hand slid between your legs, thumb rubbing circles over your clit with each thrust, amplifying the pleasure until you were trembling, quivering on the edge again.
“Yes… oh—fuck—Hyunjin—” you gasped, trying to stay quiet, watching yourself in the mirror as he fucked you with reckless intensity.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, thrusting harder, hand moving faster. “Cum for me, baby… I want you writhing, watching yourself lose control. That’s my girl…”
The stimulation built unbearably, every stroke, every circle, every harsh groan of his filling your senses. Your body shuddered violently, thighs clamping around air, chest heaving, as the fourth orgasm ripped through you. Silent, desperate, full of shudders and spasms, your reflection a perfect mirror of your ruin.
Hyunjin continued, grinning down at your trembling body.
⸻
Hyunjin’s hips never slowed, pounding into you with reckless, deliberate force as your trembling body clung to the vanity. His hands gripped your hips like he could pull you into himself entirely, every stroke driving you higher, faster.
“You’re so wet, baby… so fucking ready for me,” he groaned, voice rough and dark. “And you’ve been holding back all night… not anymore.”
Your thighs quaked around nothing, body stretched over the vanity, every nerve on fire. “H-Hyunjin… oh god—” you gasped, words breaking into desperate moans.
He leaned down, teeth grazing your shoulder, lips brushing your neck, fingers circling your clit with merciless pressure. “That’s it… that’s my girl. Let go… cum for me—watch yourself lose control.”
The coil in your stomach snapped. Every stroke, every rub, every groan of his against you sent you careening over the edge. Your back arched impossibly, hands clawing the vanity as your body trembled violently.
“Oh—oh god—Hyunjin—yes! Fuck! Ah!”
He thrust deep, fingers curling inside you, thumb rubbing your clit in perfect rhythm as your body shook uncontrollably. And then—an overwhelming surge of heat exploded through you, muscles clamping around him as your orgasm ripped out of you, full, trembling, and utterly unrestrained.
A hot, wet gush spurted over the vanity, your legs shaking violently, your chest heaving, every shuddering wave leaving you breathless. Hyunjin groaned deep in response, pumping into you through every contraction, savoring the way your body surrendered entirely to him.
“Shit… look at you, baby,” he groaned, eyes dark, teeth grazing your shoulder. “Squirting for me… all over me… mine…”
You could barely speak, breath catching in your throat, every nerve screaming, but he continued, hand circling, hips thrusting, milking your release to the absolute limit.
Your head fell against the vanity, eyes squeezing shut, moaning in broken gasps. “Oh—god—Hyunjin… I’m—ah—”
He captured your lips in a fierce, wet kiss, tongue slipping inside to silence your cries while his fingers and hips worked together, letting your body ride out the final waves of your squirted, shuddering orgasm.
Finally, he released inside you.
When your muscles relaxed and trembled under him, he pulled back slightly, still buried deep inside you, and whispered, low and possessive:
“Mine… all mine… and you look perfect… dripping, shaking… completely wrecked by me.”
You could only pant, chest heaving, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead, completely spent, every nerve alive from the intensity. Hyunjin held you against the vanity, smirking down at your trembling, messy, utterly destroyed body, the mirror reflecting every inch of your vulnerability—and his dominance.
⸻
Hyunjin’s hands were gentle now, lifting your trembling body off the vanity and guiding you onto the plush dressing room couch. You melted against him, still weak, your legs quivering as he pressed you flush against his chest.
“You okay, baby?” he murmured, one hand rubbing circles on your lower back while the other stroked through your damp hair. His thumb brushed your temple lightly, soft and possessive.
“I… I think so,” you whispered, chest heaving, still feeling every lingering spark of pleasure and adrenaline. “That was… intense.”
He smirked, lips brushing the top of your head. “Mm… you liked it. Admit it.”
You blushed, burying your face into his chest. “So much… you’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, hand sliding down to gently rest on your thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles. “But you were perfect, baby. So messy...”
Your thighs shivered at his words, heat still coursing through you. “I… I didn’t mean to—oh god—”
“You don’t have to explain,” he interrupted softly, kissing the top of your head. “Just breathe… let it all out. That’s enough for now.”
You leaned into him, body still sticky with sweat, letting his warmth and touch soothe you. “Promise you’ll come back?”
Hyunjin chuckled low, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder. “I promise… soon. But for now, I have to leave.”
You groaned softly, trying to cling to him, but he stood slowly, hands lingering on your hips and shoulder for one last lingering touch. “Don’t get too used to being left alone, baby,” he teased, lips brushing yours for a fleeting, teasing kiss.
And then he was gone, slipping out of the room just as your breathing started to even out.
No sooner had the door clicked shut than a sharp, furious voice echoed down the hallway.
“Hyunjin! Get your ass back here!” Bangchan barked, footsteps heavy, tone deadly serious. “Do you realize how much trouble you just fucking caused?!”
Your eyes widened, panic flaring through you as your chest tightened. You pressed yourself into the couch cushions, hoping the sound wouldn’t carry.
Hyunjin’s voice carried back from the doorway, teasing and nonchalant. “Hyung… dude… chill. It’s… not what it looks like.”
“Not what it looks like?!” Bangchan yelled, practically stomping his feet. “You caused sound check to be delayed twenty minutes! You can’t just—oh my god, Hyunjin!”
You bit your lip, pressing your face into the couch as your heart pounded. Hyunjin’s smirk could almost be heard in his tone, dark and mischievous, as he responded lazily, “Relax… she’s fine. And you’re too uptight.”
Bangchan growled, his patience clearly stretched thin. “Hyunjin—soundcheck! Staff member! Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?!”
And there you sat on the couch, flushed, sweaty, and utterly wrecked, knowing full well that the fun—and the trouble—was far from over.
TYSM for reading!!
Feel free to check out my master list to see more of my works!
✎ Technically, this is a part two to "Lunar Cycle" though it could also be read alone without really missing anything. Basically, it's just an nsfw addition to the oneshot, but warning - it is my first real nsfw work (sorry if it's a bit rough)
Warning(s): Werewolf characteristics. Swearing.
Mature: Switch!Chan, masturbation (m.), oral (f. receiving), talks of breeding, unprotected sex (don't be like Bang Chan folks), marking, praising, slight size kink.
⤑ wc: 4.3k
╰┈➤ You've learned a lot about Chan over the last month, but as a new full moon approaches, you realize that you certainly haven't learned everything yet. There are still different phases to being a werewolf that you may just have to learn the hard way.
Having a werewolf boyfriend is certainly... interesting. It's nothing like what dark romance novels will have you thinking; not in the way the werewolf acts or the way they treat you. In fiction, they are often described as dark and brooding types, filled with a tortured past and a lust for blood. They ghost through your life outside of their monthly frenzy like some lost soul.
Chan is the absolute opposite of that stereotype.
Chan, despite his feral condition, is just as much of a polite fool as he seemed before the secret was released. There was no brooding, no tsundere tendencies when you offered help or to hang out. No, Chan reveled in the attention like a puppy begging for scraps. He was cheerful, not trying to hide himself away, and was always happy to indulge you. Gone was the bloodlust that overtook his mind during the transformation, leaving a shy and stumbling man who made you fall deeper for him every day.
After the 'moonlight incident' as you both had deemed it, he was ever so eager to satiate your curiosity. Any possible question, well at least those you were comfortable asking without combusting from embarrassment, were answered immediately and with a smile. Chan was simply overjoyed to have another person he could be himself with, someone he didn't have to worry about leaving when they noticed his quirks. Plus, Felix was just as happy to have someone to rant to when he came over to the cabins, stealing you away to tell any and all embarrassing stories he could.
Still, you can't deny that there have been some new oddities to Chan that you hadn't noticed before, or at least ones that had escaped your lovestruck mind during the first month of meetings. Certain traits that aligned far more with his canine soul-companion than his human half, even outside of the full moon. They were odd, certainly a change that needed to be adapted to, but you loved each and every little quirk. Plus, the more of them you noticed, the more you saw how open Chan had become. No more was the shy midnight-star-gazing companion from before; now you could see the full picture beyond just the mortal persona.
For example, when stressed, the man craved physical reassurance. A small touch or quick hug had his entire body melting during a rough composition. Just the ability to feel the pulse drumming beneath your skin made his own calm to meet its pace. "It's like listening to another song." He'd whispered one day, head basically buried into your collar as his ear pressed against the skin. "Helps erase everything."
You'd also learned that even outside of the full moon, Chan's senses were increasingly sensitive. His eyesight was like a hawk, noticing things about to fall long before they did or reaching out to steady you before you even knew you'd tripped. But his sense of smell... that was turned up to the nines. His nose constantly scrunched up when the wind blew, head unconsciously tilting towards it before muttering something about birds or smoke.
Honestly, you hadn't noticed too much of it around you until he came over one night and his entire face scrunched like he'd hit a wall. "Are... Are you wearing perfume?"
Whipping around from the stove, you pulled up the collar of your shirt and sniffed lightly. "Yeah, just a bit. Did I put too much on?" You inhaled a few more times, only catching small hints of the light fragrance, but obviously Chan could smell more as the man refused to leave the still open doorway.
"No, probably not. It's just-" He flicked his nose, cheeks red and head down slightly. He felt guilty for even mentioning it, wishing he had just ignored the overflowing floral aroma after one look at your embarrassed expression.
"Oh shit!" You quickly turned the stove down, hands shaking as you resisted the urge to bolt. How had you forgotten about his sensitive nose? Granted, you'd never worn that perfume near him, but its effects should have been a no-brainer. "Sorry! I'll go change my shirt, just give me like 5- no, 10 minutes!"
Chan didn't even have the chance to guiltily dismiss your worries before you dashed off to your room with a damp washcloth. The rest of the dinner had been nice, albeit a little awkward as you were now ultra aware of just how much he could smell you. "Could you always smell me like this?" You finally asked as the two of you settled against the couch, curiosity beating out the mortification.
Chan glanced away with red cheeks, easily answering your question without words. The shame and sudden overthinking made you groan, hands pressed against burning cheeks and body wishing it could melt against the seat below. Quickly, Chan pulled your hands away. "It's okay! I like the way you smell." The two of you froze, Chan's eyes widening as he realized how creepy that may have sounded. "I mean, it's subtle, natural. Don't worry! It's nice and... and-"
The more the man stumbled, the less embarrassment you felt, groans turning to giggles as the brunette turned and glared. "Oh hush, I'm trying to be romantic here." That only made you laugh more, which Chan responded to by collapsing on your chest and threatening to smother you with his own. By the time you two settled down, he had made himself comfortable against your skin, nose tucked gently against your neck. "It calms me. You calm me, that's what I was trying to say. I like to be able to smell you, just you."
So over the last few weeks, you'd learned to adjust yourself to his lifestyle. Never intruding or demanding him to change, but observing and altering your typical reactions. You didn't push him, and in return, he never pushed you for your quirks. With that being said, the last few days had been different - unnaturally odd.
Chan had all but disappeared from your life, choosing to hunker down in his home rather than accept your invitations for dinner. Even the short conversations you'd managed to get when catching him coming back from a run were curt; not unkind, but empty in emotion and dismissive. His eyes refused to look at you, always over your shoulder or towards the treeline instead.
As far as you knew, you hadn't crossed any boundaries, but no amount of polite questions or quiet meetings seemed to make it any better. You even went as far as to call Felix, but your worries were shrugged off with a short "Chan just gets this way sometimes".
The full moon wasn't for another week, you'd checked, and last month he hadn't exhibited any of the same coldness as you were receiving now. All of the possibilities circled your mind and kept you pacing long into the night. He hadn't actually told you to leave him alone, simply opting to brush you off or ignore you instead, which actually made you spiral even more. Finally, as the sun set on the fourth day of no explanation from Chan, you had had enough.
Throwing your blankets off, you angrily stormed out of your house and towards his. The cabin was hauntingly silent, just as it had been for days, but your hand roughly pounded against the heavy oak. "Chan!" You waited approximately 10 seconds before knocking again. And again. 3 rounds later, and there was still no answer, making you swear.
You didn't want to cross another boundary, but you were starting to get worried. Stress easily overrode any rationality, and you found your fingers quickly digging into the potted plant settled on the porch. Pulling out the dirtied spare key, and with all shame washed away by anger, you swiftly unlocked and entered the door.
The house was uncomfortably hot, yet from where you stood, you didn't see any fire glowing. "Chan?" You called out one last hopeful time, but again received no response. With bated breath, you turned to re-lock the door and slowly headed up the stairs.
──── ୨୧ ────
Chan had been having a rough day - no, a rough week. He always felt a little odd before the full moon, but never to this degree. Everything was turned up to the max, uncomfortably overstimulating in every way. His ears felt like they were going to explode, his nose too sensitive for even the lightest of floral breezes. Everything ached, and just being around you made him feel insane.
All Chan could focus on was the way your heart hummed beneath your flesh, how you looked so good bending over the garden by the treeline, and -by all that is holy- how he wanted to bite down and drown in you. One look -one small catch of your scent- was all it took for you to send his mind reeling and his blood burning. It was embarrassing.
Granted, he typically got a little... pent up... before the shift, but this was nearly unmanageable. His body burned and all he could think about was you. The feeling of your skin under his hands, the cute blush against your cheeks, the way your eyes would look down as your lip pouted. It was intoxicating; he wanted to devour you and claim every inch of your skin
Plus, don't even get him started on the way your dress would ride up during the movies you two watched, exposing a sinful sliver of your underwear that he was both too shy and too gleeful to mention. Or the way you smelled when he flirted with you, the spike of arousal teasing your natural beauty with a tantalising spice. You think he didn't notice the way you squirm when his lips ghost against your neck, the way your legs clench when he greets you with his rough morning voice. But he does, and he lives for those memories.
Oh just the thought of it alone made him want to rip his door open, storm over to your house and take you right there. Damn the consequences.
But he couldn't damn the consequenses. Not with you.
It isn't as if the two of you hadn't gotten intimate in the last few weeks, lots of makeout sessions and over-the-clothes action happening nearly daily, but nothing beyond a little oral. He didn't want the first proper time to be during his pre-transformation rut stage. Not when he couldn't guarantee he'd be patient or gentle.
That's why your messages lay unanswered on his phone, why he begged Felix to keep you off his back for another week. Maybe next month he could explain it, but not now, not when all he could think about is you falling apart underneath him.
Another flash of heat rolled over him as he pushed his head back against the wall, an airy groan escaping from his swollen and harshly bitten lips. In one hand, his phone lay locked open on a picture of you, something candid that you'd taken on your last date night. The bra had pushed your boobs up beautifully, and the higher angle he naturally had revealed more of your cleavage than it probably should have.
In his other hand, Chan felt his cock jump, twitching and sensitive as he ran his hand up towards the tip teasingly. His shirt remained clenched between his teeth, a desperate and useless attempt to keep himself quiet as breathy groans escaped in desperate huffs. Precum leaked from the slit as he swiped his thumb over it, back arching as he imagined your mouth in the place of his hand. How your lips, so puffy and perfect, would wrap around it and struggle to take him all.
But you would be so good. Such a good girl, using your hand to take what your throat couldn't, making sure not an inch went without. Chan tightened his grip as he imagined the feeling of your throat squeezing against it, speeding up his desperate thrusts. The phone had long since fallen back against his bed, that hand desperately running through his hair to act as some form of anchor.
But Chan was too far gone.
He could feel the pressure building, thrusts frantic as he chased the high. The shirt fell limply from his lips as he moaned out your name, freely gasping and growling, mutterances of how you felt so good falling on empty ears. He squeezed as the first wave of his orgasm hit, cursing softly as it splattered against his stomach and dripped down his hand. His head felt dizzy with each wave, barely dissipating as he slowed and tried to catch his breath.
"Chan?" His heart stopped.
There you were, the real you, staring wide-eyed at him from the edge of the doorway. You weren't sure when you had moved forward, initially frozen in shock at the sight of your boyfriend, but somehow you had walked from the hall and into the sinful room.
A brilliant flush covered every inch of Chan's body as he tried to cover his manhood, pillow roughly thrown as he squeaked out your name. "Wh-What are you doing here?"
You didn't answer right away, eyes still cast down at the pillow that now hid his shame. "You were ignoring me... I got worried." You then let out the prettiest sigh he'd ever heard, sending blood rushing southward as your scent filled the room with each step. "Oh baby, is this why you've been hiding away?"
"I-" Chan didn't know what to say, brain too dazed by the fact that you were actually there before him. His skin, sweaty from everything, began to boil again as his eyes flickered over your pajama clad body.
"Hun," You whispered, sitting against the edge of the bed and ghosting a hand over the side of the pillow. "Why didn't you ask me to help? Is this part of pre-full moon stuff?"
Chan gulped, cheeks ablaze. "I didn't want to risk anything, or to make you feel like you had any obligations."
Your tongue darted across your lips; perfect, pink, and oh-so wet. "Baby, I would have jumped to help you. We've been through this. I want to see every part of you, no matter what it entails. Wherever the moon takes us, remember?" You moved your hand further up, both too close and too far from the area he so desperately needed you. "Can I help?"
Chan bit his lip, breaking skin with a quick sting before he nodded. With little hesitation, you pulled the pillow back and nearly gasped. While you'd seen him before, something about this was different, more erotic. Covered in his first orgasm, it still remained hard and desperately flushed, tip so pretty and puffy your mouth watered just at the thought of it in you.
Against your more pressing desires, you pulled your eyes away and shifted closer, "Come here." Pulling him in by his shirt, you messily pressed your lips against his swollen ones, moaning lowly as you tasted the iron lingering on them. Chan immediately responded in earnest, trailing his hands up and under your shirt and reveling in the feeling of your skin and tongue against his own. Your lips, desperate against his, slowly migrated down his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as you travelled further south.
Before you could reach his cock though, Chan's eyes widened and he quickly pulled you up. "No wait-"
You looked so confused, lips puffy and nearly drooling. "Chan?" Guilt replaced lust as your thoughts spiralled. Had you pushed too far too fast? Made him uncomfortable in some way?
No, that wasn't the case at all. Chan was drowning in desire, drowning in a need to be covered in every way by you. "I need to taste you." It came out as more of a plea than anything else, lips licked and eyes wide in begging. "Please."
Already, the scent of your arousal had filled every inch of the room, but he needed the source. With a quick nod of your head, you let him shift positions, your head resting against the pillows as Chan worshiped down your body. His warm hands trailed softly, nails nipping against sensitive skin before he reached your sleeping shorts. Another nod, and they were gone, both the shorts and your soaked underwear lost in the chaos of the room. The hot air felt oddly cool against your exposed lips, already glistening in need.
"Oh fuck," Chan exhauled, finger gently trailing up and down the puffy slit, eyes threatening to roll back as the thick juices coated them. "You're so beautiful. So perfect."
Your breath hitched as Chan used his now soaked fingers to spread your lips, glancing up at you one more time for reassurance before diving in. The pleasure was immediate, hips threatening to buck under his powerful hand, his tongue flattening against that little bundle of nerves beautifully. "Chan!"
Between your legs, Chan felt like he'd finally gone to heaven. The taste of you coating every inch of his tongue was exquisite, somehow better than the first time. His two fingers pressed against and into your hole, groaning as the sensitive flesh sucked him in. His tongue alternated between suckling against your clit and lapping up the nectar gathering. His hips, aching and heavy, ground against the bed below him, further adding to the immense pleasure surrounding his senses.
Chan was basically whimpering, inaudible begging escaping as he feasted. Your moans echoed through the room as the pressure built, sounding like angels singing to him and spurring his fingers to move with more pressure. His tongue remained on the nub as he heard the familiar broken moan, a sign that you were soon to peak.
You reached out to grab hold of his hair, roughly pulling him closer as if afraid he'd deny you. But Chan wouldn't, not when he was just as desperate. With one last suckle, you cried out, arching against the bed as your nerves twitched with relief. Chan echoed your moan, feeling the muscles tighten and the slick pooling against his skin. He lapped up every drop you gave, drowning in it until he felt your hand gently tug his hair to get him away.
Chan's face was sinful, lips glistening and pupils blown wide. He looked drunk, hips still stuttering against the bed as he laid his head on your inner thigh. Your muscles twitched, weak as you tried to shift, but the brunette's tight grip kept you grounded. "Chan, it's my turn."
"No," He glanced up, near tears. The inner beast begged him to claim you, push you against the bed until you could think of nothing but him. "Please, I can't take it any longer. I need you, need to be inside you. Please baby, let me take you. I need it so bad."
Who were you to deny him when he looked so damn pretty?
"Then take me, baby."
Chan needed nothing more, legs stumbling as he scrambled to pull your shirt off and audibly moaning as your braless chest was exposed to the open air. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel, how good he could make you feel, and you were lost in the same thoughts.
His cock, painfully swollen and needy, slipped across your slit a few times, gathering up the dribbling lubricant before Chan shifted so that the tip was kissing against your opening. He resisted the urge to just shove it in -the desperation to feel you all around him- and instead gradually pushed the puffy tip in inch by inch. "Oh shit."
You felt ethereal. Unreal and so damn tight. Your lips parted in a breathy moan at the stretch, painful pleasure striking through your core like lightning. "Baby-Shi... You're so fucking big."
Chan panted, grip bruising against your hips as he pushed the last few inches in, reveling in the way your walls fluttered as he bottomed out. The two of you moaned in unison, breathless and already oh-so lost in the pleasure. You could feel the way his cock pulsed, heavy against your spongy insides and twitching every time you unconsciously squeezed.
"Fuck," Chan wanted nothing more than to snap his hips, caging you beneath his heavy body as he claimed every inch, but for both your sakes, he waited. "Can-"
He couldn't even finish the question, but luckily you understood, practically begging. "Please, I need you."
And the string snapped.
Hips roughly pulling back, Chan's eyes rolled back as he snapped them forward, feeling every inch of you sucking him back in. The wet squelch of sweaty skin against skin filled the room, only drowned out by the obscene moaning escaping your bruised lips. "Fu.. You feel so good, so good for me."
Your legs desperately wrapped around his hips, heels pushing him closer as your fingernails dug crescents into his back. Chan didn't mind though; no, he loved the marks that bit against his skin. Proof that he was yours just as much as you were his. His own teeth nipped against your neck and collar as his hips thrusted, leaving wet and purple bruises along their way.
"Mine," he growled, hips shifting to reach deeper as he fell to his forearms and caged you against his body. Every inch of your senses was filled with him, his sweat, the smell of sex in the room, the feeling of his cock bullying deeper into you as a desperate attempt to mark you. "Only mine. Fuck-" He could feel you tightening, his pelvis moving against your clit with each thrust as he crushed you beneath him. Each time he pushed, he could feel a small bump against his stomach as your body struggled to let him in.
So small, so perfect. You took him like you were made for it, made to be his. Oh, how pretty you'd look all full and fucked out. How gorgeous you'd glow after he'd pumped you full enough to leak, bred thoroughly until it caught. He whimped, choking back a long moan at the thought, the image of you swollen with life doing irreparable damage to the same beast that threatened to devour you whole.
"Gonna fill you up, yeah?" He kept his pace steady, hand reaching down to add extra stimulation to your nerves. "You want that? To be filled with me, every inch inside and out claimed by no one else but me?"
You could feel your orgasm approaching, back arching near painfully as his words sent you spiralling. "Please! Wa- want you so... oh fuck... so bad. A-All... all of you."
Chan growled; an actual primal growl ripping through his throat as you tightened around him, walls fluttering and pushing him closer to his own orgasm. The way you fell apart was exquisite, puffy lips parted in a choked off scream and eyes rolled back to heaven. His own orgasm followed quickly, hitting rough and uncontrollable as he spilled inside you.
His teeth, once nipping gently against your skin, dug deep into your shoulder, a sharp pain erupting that only made you moan more. He felt so warm, filling every inch as he lazily slowed his thrusts down, riding out his high until he was finally spent. The two of you laid there for a few moments, basking in the high and one another's warm presence.
"You okay?" His voice, gravely and worn from the noises that had escaped, sounded so calming against your pounding heart.
Your whole body warmed at the genuine question, tired arms shifting to run your fingers through his hair. "I'm great- that was great, baby. You okay?"
Chan weakly nodded, head still buried in your neck. "Fuck, that was amazing." With spent muscles, he finally pushed himself up and onto his palms, love-filled gaze looking down at you. "You were so perfect." Gently sharing a kiss, Chan finally pulled out, nearly whimpering at the overstimulation. To be fair, just watching his seed dribble out almost made him come again, biting his lip to hide the shaky moan that threatened to break free.
The two of you cleaned one another up, Chan pulling the blanket away and carefully laying another one down before he pulled you tightly against him. "I love you so much, did you know that?"
You hummed, smiling and taking in the warmth surrounding you. "You may have said it before."
Chans grip tightened, "I don't know what I did to deserve someone as understanding as you." Falling into mutual comfort, you two listened to the world slowly wake up outside, simply happy to be near one another again without the awkward tension of the last few days.
Shifting against his hot body, you buried your face further into his chest and took comfort in the way he adjusted. "So, how long does this pent-up phase usually last?"
"Until the full moon." Chan sleepily mumbled, face tucking away against your hair, eyes closed.
You hummed in acknowledgment, slowly beginning to doze off as well until his words fully sank in. Full moon? Which is- "Wait, a week!?"
Your apartment was warm with the kind of lazy comfort only Felix ever seemed to bring. He was stretched out on your couch, legs long and sprawled, hoodie swallowing him whole while his freckles glowed faintly under the lamp light. Some movie neither of you were really watching played in the background, and the half-empty pizza box on the coffee table was proof of how your “Friday night in” always went.
He laughed at something dumb you said, that low rumble of his voice vibrating through the air, and you couldn’t help but grin. Being with Felix was always like this—safe, easy, like breathing.
“You’re literally the only person who finds me funny,” you teased, nudging his thigh with your foot.
“Lies,” he smirked, grabbing your ankle before you could pull away. His long fingers curled around it, warm and casual, but it made your stomach dip anyway. “You’re hilarious. Half the time I’m laughing because you’re not even trying.”
The conversation drifted from jokes to old stories, to people you both used to date—or tried to. It wasn’t unusual, not with how you’d always been open with each other. Felix told you about a date that ended when the girl cried over her ex mid-dessert, and you countered with your own awkward fling that fizzled out after two weeks.
And that was when it slipped out.
“I don’t even bother anymore,” you said with a shrug, sipping your drink. “Like, what’s the point? I’ve never even…” You hesitated, then added lightly, “Never even made myself cum, so maybe my body’s just broken.”
Silence.
You blinked and turned your head, realizing Felix wasn’t laughing along this time. He was staring at you, lips parted slightly, eyes wide.
“…What?” you asked, laughing nervously. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” His deep voice was low, sharp around the edges in a way you’d never heard before. He sat up straighter, brows drawn together. “Y/N… you’re telling me you’ve never—ever—?”
You waved him off, suddenly regretting saying anything. “I don’t know, I just… figured some people can’t, right? Like maybe I’m just one of them. It’s fine.”
But Felix didn’t look like he thought it was fine. In fact, he looked… unsettled. His jaw flexed as he stared at you, freckles dusted across skin that had gone warm pink.
“Do you even hear yourself right now?” he muttered.
“What?”
“That’s not—” He ran a hand through his blond hair, frustrated, before looking back at you. His eyes, normally soft, were dark and fixed. “You’re not broken. And the fact that you think that—fuck, no. That just means no one’s done it right.”
Your breath hitched. The way he said it, that little growl under his voice, made your chest tighten.
“Lix—”
“Do you trust me?” he cut in, voice deep, rough.
The question knocked the air from your lungs. “You know I do.”
His gaze flicked down your body before returning to your face, something dangerous simmering there. “Then let me prove you wrong.”
Your heart stopped.
You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, heat rushing through your body like wildfire. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t teasing. Felix—your Felix, your best friend—was dead serious.
“Felix…” you whispered.
He shifted closer on the couch, his knee brushing yours. His hand reached out, cupping your jaw so gently you almost melted. “Tell me no, and I’ll drop it. We’ll never bring it up again. But if you say yes…” His thumb traced your cheek, his eyes locking you in place. “I’ll make you cum so many times you’ll forget you ever thought you couldn’t.”
Your entire body trembled.
And when you didn’t pull away—when you whispered, “Yes”—something inside him snapped.
⸻
Felix kissed you like he’d been holding himself back for years. His mouth was soft but hungry, tasting you like he needed proof you were real, his tongue sliding against yours until your lungs burned. When he finally pulled away, your lips were wet and swollen, and he pressed his forehead to yours with a shaky laugh.
“You don’t know what you just started,” he murmured, voice dropping so low it vibrated in your chest.
Your heart pounded as he guided you back against the cushions, moving with care, as if he was terrified you might change your mind. But the second your back touched the couch, his whole demeanor shifted—protective, yes, but commanding too. He leaned over you, one knee pressing between your thighs, caging you in.
“Look at me, angel,” he whispered. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. “Still okay?”
You nodded, too breathless for words.
“That’s my girl.” The praise rolled out of him in that deep, husky timbre, and your stomach flipped.
His hand slid down, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. The brush of his fingers over your skin was enough to make you shiver, every callus catching against your ribs as he traced a slow path to your stomach. He didn’t rush, letting you feel every inch of contact until goosebumps spread across your skin.
When he reached the band of your leggings, he paused, his eyes burning into yours. “Can I?”
Your whisper was shaky, but certain. “Yes.”
The corner of his mouth lifted before he hooked his fingers into the waistband and tugged, dragging your leggings down slowly, like unwrapping a present he wanted to savor. When you were bare for him, his gaze darkened.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, the word raw, reverent. “So perfect.”
Heat shot through you at the way he looked at you, not just lust but awe, like you were something untouchable. He lowered himself, settling between your spread thighs. His palm cupped you over your panties, applying just enough pressure to make your hips jolt.
You gasped, instinctively trying to close your legs, but his free hand held your knee open with firm gentleness.
“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured, kissing your temple. “Let me see you. Let me feel you.”
Your face flamed as he stroked over the damp fabric, his thumb brushing your clit in lazy circles. The friction had your breath hitching in seconds, thighs trembling against his hold.
“You’re already wet for me,” he whispered, smirking against your jaw. “And you were telling me your body can’t? Angel, you’re dripping.”
Your protest died in a whimper when he pushed your panties aside and touched you bare. His fingers traced your folds, slow, exploring, as if he had all night to learn every contour of you. He spread your slickness with teasing strokes, dragging it up to your clit before slipping back down.
“Felix—” Your voice cracked.
“Shh,” he soothed, kissing the corner of your lips. “Just relax. Let me show you.”
Then, finally, he slid one finger inside.
The intrusion was startling at first—different from your own clumsy attempts—but his touch was steady, sure, patient. He didn’t push too fast, letting you adjust before curling slightly, pressing up into the sensitive spot inside you.
The noise that ripped out of you made his breath hitch.
“There it is,” he groaned, his accent thicker, his control slipping. “Right there. That’s your sweet spot, isn’t it, baby?”
Before you could answer, he added a second finger. The stretch made you whine, but the fullness was delicious, especially when he began to move—slow at first, then faster, curling up into that same spot with precision. His thumb pressed down on your clit, circling in rhythm with each thrust of his fingers.
You bucked against him, overwhelmed, every nerve sparking. “Lix—oh my god—”
“That’s it,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You feel that? That’s your body begging for release. You’re not broken, angel. You’ve just been waiting for the right one.”
Your hips chased his hand, the coil in your stomach tightening unbearably. Felix’s breath came harder, his forehead pressed to yours as he worked you open.
“You’re so fucking tight around my fingers,” he groaned. “Can’t wait to feel you cum for me. Wanna hear you scream my name when you let go.”
Your nails dug into his hoodie, your thighs shaking uncontrollably. The sensation built and built until you thought you’d shatter.
“I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His thumb pressed harder, circling faster, relentless. His fingers pumped into you with perfect rhythm, curling up against that spot until sparks danced behind your eyes. “You will. Cum for me, angel. I’ve got you. Let go.”
The orgasm hit like a lightning strike.
Your body arched violently, mouth falling open in a cry you couldn’t hold back. Pleasure ripped through you in crashing waves, so intense you almost sobbed. Your walls clamped around his fingers, pulsing as he coaxed every ounce out of you.
“That’s it, baby. That’s my girl,” Felix groaned, watching your face with something close to awe. “So beautiful when you cum. God, I could watch you like this forever.”
He slowed gradually, easing you down, then withdrew his fingers with care. You shivered as he brought them to his mouth, sliding them past his lips with a hum of satisfaction.
“Told you,” he said, voice rough and dripping with smug affection. “Not broken.”
Your whole body trembled, wrecked, and when you buried your face in his chest, his arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you through the aftershocks.
⸻
Your body was still trembling when Felix eased you back against the cushions, his big hand smoothing over your thigh like he needed to ground you. His chest rose and fell fast, but his eyes never left your face—dark, intent, hungry.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.
“Felix…” you breathed, half-embarrassed, half-overwhelmed.
His lips curled into a crooked grin, freckles crinkling with it, but his voice stayed low, rough. “That was just my fingers, angel. I told you—your body can do this. Over and over.”
Heat flared in your stomach again, even through the haze of your orgasm. He leaned down, kissing you softly at first, but when you whimpered against his mouth, his control cracked. His tongue slid against yours, deeper, hungrier, like he couldn’t get enough.
When he pulled away, his mouth was wet and swollen. He glanced down your body, then back at you, his voice a rasp. “Can I taste you?”
The question made your breath stutter. “Y-you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” His hand pressed lightly against your stomach, pinning you in place as he shifted lower, between your thighs. “Need to. I’ve been dying to know how sweet you are.”
You couldn’t speak, only nodded shakily.
Felix’s smirk was sinful, but the way he kissed the inside of your thigh before lowering himself was reverent. “Good girl.”
Then he dragged his tongue through your folds.
Your whole body jolted, a broken gasp leaving your throat. His low groan rumbled against you, and you realized with a shock that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.
“Fuck, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice vibrating straight through you. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
His mouth sealed over your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue against it in quick, precise strokes. You cried out, hips jerking, but his hands pinned your thighs open, holding you down with easy strength.
“Stay still for me,” he growled softly. “Let me eat you the way you deserve.”
The wet sounds filled the room—his tongue lapping, his lips sucking, the needy noises he let slip like he was starving for you. He alternated between teasing flicks over your clit and plunging his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with his mouth until your hands tangled helplessly in his blond hair.
“Felix—oh god—”
He pulled back just enough to smirk up at you, his chin glistening. “Louder, angel. I want everyone to know I’m the one making you feel this good.”
Before you could answer, he dove back in, this time adding his fingers again—two sliding into your slick heat while his tongue lashed your clit. The combination was devastating, pushing you higher, faster.
The pressure built so quickly you were almost scared of it.
“Lix—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His eyes locked on yours, even as his tongue moved relentlessly. “Cum on my tongue, baby. Drown me in it.”
The orgasm tore through you without warning. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently against his hold as pleasure crashed over you in brutal waves. Felix groaned into you, drinking down every drop, his fingers still pumping until you were thrashing.
Only when you pushed weakly at his head did he finally ease up, kissing your trembling thighs as he withdrew his fingers. He licked them clean again with a filthy moan, then crawled back up to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue.
“See?” he whispered against your lips, his deep voice dripping with satisfaction. “Not broken. Just needed me to ruin you.”
Your chest heaved, your voice a wrecked whisper. “Felix…”
He kissed you again, slower this time, his hand cradling your jaw. “Still not done, angel. I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember what it feels like not to cum.”
⸻
You were still shuddering, your body buzzing from your second orgasm, when Felix pulled himself up over you again. His lips were red and swollen, his chin still slick, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.
And his eyes—dark, wild, wrecked—fixed on you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
“Angel…” His voice was ragged, torn from his chest. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”
You blinked up at him, dazed, trembling. “Felix—”
But your words died when your gaze flicked lower. His hoodie had ridden up, revealing the hard lines of his stomach, and beneath his sweats he was straining, so hard it made your mouth go dry.
Your best friend. Hard for you.
He caught the direction of your stare and groaned, burying his face against your neck for a second before muttering, “I was trying to take it slow—fuck—but I need to feel you.”
His hips pressed against yours, the blunt length of him grinding through the slick mess between your thighs, and the friction made both of you moan.
“Felix,” you whispered, half plea, half disbelief.
He lifted his head, cupping your face in both hands. “Tell me no, and I’ll stop. Right now. But if you say yes…” His forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaking. “I’ll fuck you until you can’t say anything but my name.”
Your answer was instant. “Yes. Please.”
The sound he made—half growl, half whimper—shook through your bones. He sat up just enough to shove his hoodie and sweats off in a frenzy, his cock springing free, flushed and leaking. Your breath hitched at the sight—thick, long, almost intimidating.
Felix caught your reaction, his smirk wicked but his voice soft. “Don’t worry, angel. It’ll fit.”
He grabbed a condom from his wallet—because of course he had one—and rolled it on with shaky hands, all while keeping his eyes locked on you. Then he lowered himself again, lining up at your entrance.
The first push stole your breath.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his deep voice breaking as he eased in. “Gripping me like you were made for me.”
You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretched you inch by inch. It was overwhelming, but his hand stroked your cheek, grounding you. “Breathe for me, baby. That’s it. You’re doing so good.”
When he bottomed out, fully seated inside you, both of you moaned in unison. Felix dropped his forehead to your shoulder, trembling. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he confessed, voice raw. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to feel you like this.”
You gasped, stunned. “You… wanted this?”
His laugh was shaky, broken. “Wanted you. Always.”
Then he pulled back and thrust in again—and everything else disappeared.
The stretch, the fullness, the sheer pressure of him made you sob out his name. He set a slow, steady rhythm at first, rolling his hips deep, grinding into your sweet spot with every stroke.
“Felix—oh my god—”
“That’s it,” he panted, his deep voice wrecked. “Take me. Feel how deep I am? No one else could ever touch you like this.”
He picked up the pace, thrusts sharper now, his abs flexing with the effort. Sweat dotted his temples, blond hair sticking to his forehead, but his eyes never left you—watching every cry, every gasp, like he was memorizing.
Your nails raked down his back, and he hissed, slamming harder. The wet slap of skin filled the room, obscene and perfect.
“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, voice cracking. “I’m addicted already. Gonna fuck you until you can’t think.”
His hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit, circling ruthlessly in time with his thrusts. The combination was brutal—you were already sensitive, already trembling—and the orgasm built fast, hot and impossible to stop.
“Lix—I’m gonna—”
“Cum with me, angel,” he begged, his thrusts rougher now, desperate. “Cum on my cock. Show me you’re mine.”
The dam broke again, harder than before. You screamed his name as your body clenched violently around him, stars bursting behind your eyes. Felix’s curse ripped out with yours, his thrusts stuttering as he slammed deep one final time, his whole body shuddering as he came with a broken moan against your neck.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing, the weight of him pressed against you, his heartbeat hammering as wildly as yours.
Then Felix kissed you—soft, lingering, shaking—and whispered against your lips, “Told you. You’re perfect. You’re mine.”
⸻
Felix collapsed onto you with a groan, his body heavy and warm, but the second he realized how much weight he was putting on you, he rolled to the side, pulling you into his chest instead. His arms wrapped around you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head as if you might float away if he let go.
“You okay, angel?” he whispered, his deep voice still hoarse.
You nodded against his chest, still trembling, your voice barely there. “Yeah… just… wow.”
His laugh was soft, shaky. “Yeah, wow.” He pressed a kiss into your hair, breathing you in like he needed the scent to calm himself down. “You were perfect. So perfect for me.”
His hand stroked slowly up and down your spine, grounding you, while his other hand gently massaged your thigh where it had been trembling earlier. Every touch was deliberate, soothing, the opposite of the desperate pace he’d just fucked you with.
“Does anything hurt?” he asked carefully, leaning back enough to scan your face. His freckles were still dusted across flushed cheeks, his hair messy, his lips swollen—but his eyes were pure concern.
“No,” you whispered, smiling faintly. “Just… sore. In a good way.”
Relief washed over his features. He kissed you softly, almost reverently this time, nothing like the hungry kisses from before. “Good. I’ll run you a bath later, yeah? Get you some water first.”
You blinked up at him, a little stunned. “You’re really… good at this.”
Felix chuckled, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Not just good at sex, angel. Good at you. I know how to take care of my girl.”
Your stomach flipped at the words my girl, but he didn’t seem to notice—he was too busy tugging the blanket from the back of the couch to drape it over both of you. He tucked it in around you snugly, like he’d done a thousand sleepovers before, only this time his touch lingered at your waist, his lips pressed to your temple.
“You scared me, you know,” he murmured after a while.
Your brows knit. “Scared you?”
“That you thought you were broken.” His voice cracked on it, raw. He hugged you tighter, burying his face in your hair. “I hated hearing you say that. You’re the most beautiful, perfect thing I’ve ever seen, and the idea of you believing you’re anything less—” He broke off with a frustrated sigh. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving you wrong if I have to.”
Your throat tightened, eyes stinging. You turned, pressing your lips to his jaw, whispering, “You already proved it tonight.”
Felix exhaled shakily, and when he looked down at you, his eyes were soft but shining, like he was on the edge of saying something bigger. Instead, he kissed you again—slow, deep, full of everything he wasn’t ready to put into words yet.
When he finally pulled back, he tucked you tighter into his chest, his deep voice rumbling as he whispered, “Rest, angel. I’ve got you.”
And with his arms around you, his warmth seeping into your bones, it was easy to let go.
TYSM for reading!!
Feel free to check out my master list to see more of my works!
Tags: Angst, best friends to lovers, unrequited love, stubbornness, smut, feelings realization, slow burn, drunken confession, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, lots of kissing, sexual tension.
Word count: 6.7k
Summary: You were never supposed to fall for him. Not your best friend, the boy who swore he didn’t believe in love anymore. But he touched you like he forgot, looked at you like he remembered, and held you like he wished he could stay. You told yourself it was nothing. That you’d imagined it. Until one night, the truth slipped past your lips, thick with wine and want. And suddenly, he wasn’t pretending anymore. He begged you not to love him. You did it anyway. Now, there’s no going back.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
🎊: Happy Birthday to an amazing writer @angel-writes-skz-here , I hope you have a good one 🤍
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You couldn’t name the exact moment it started.
Maybe it was the first time he pulled you into his hoodie on a rainy night, both of you soaked and breathless, laughing like fools under the yellow haze of a streetlight. Or maybe it was the way he always looked for you in a crowded room with that quiet glance, like the world only made sense if you were in it.
You’d been friends for years. That kind of closeness that lived in the small things — sharing earbuds in public, finishing each other’s snacks without asking, sleeping back-to-back during long movie marathons. No boundaries. No questions. It was never weird. Never talked about.
You told people you were best friends. They never believed you.
“Are you sure you’re not dating?”
“You two act like an old married couple.”
You’d laugh it off. So would he. Because it wasn’t like that. Not really.
Except, it kind of was. Wasn’t it?
You never flirted — not outright. But he’d rest his head in your lap when he was tired. You’d trace shapes into the fabric of his sleeve when you were bored. He’d call you at 2 a.m. just to ask what you thought happened to the dinosaurs. You’d pick up every time.
You didn’t think anything of it. Until one night, you did.
You were both lying on his floor, backs against the carpet, the ceiling spinning just a little from too much soda and too much sugar. He was telling you about his latest sketch — how he couldn’t get the shading right on this one figure, how the shoulders kept coming out wrong.
“I should just scrap the whole thing,” he murmured, one hand behind his head, the other gesturing vaguely. “Start over.”
You looked over at him. His hair was sticking out at different angles from him running his fingers through it repeatedly. His voice was low, softer than usual. You noticed the curve of his mouth when he was lost in thought.
And for some reason, your chest ached.
It came fast, like a breath you weren’t ready to take. Like something you’d been holding back for a long time without realizing.
You didn’t say anything. Just turned your head away and stared at the ceiling again, willing the feeling to pass. It didn’t.
That was the moment.
That was when everything shifted — quietly, almost cruelly. No fireworks. No drama. Just a slow, unbearable awareness that you wanted more than he was willing to give. That you’d fallen in love with the one person who would never love you back.
Because Hyunjin didn’t believe in love. Not anymore.
“Love’s a mess,” he’d told you once. “It makes people selfish. Desperate. I don’t want that again.”
You’d nodded. Agreed. Back then, it was easy. Back then, you believed him.
But now? Now you were lying awake at night, wondering if the way he held your wrist a little too long meant anything. If the way he leaned his head on your shoulder when he was tired was just a habit, or something more. If you were imagining it all.
Because the truth was, he still looked at you like you were his favorite person in the world. He just didn’t look at you like someone he could fall in love with.
And that hurt more than anything.
You told yourself it was still the same. That the late-night phone calls didn’t mean more. That the way he let his head fall against your shoulder when he was tired was just muscle memory. That the things he said, “No one gets me like you do”, “You’re the only person I can be like this with”, weren’t confessions. Just friendship.
You lied to yourself a lot these days. Because Hyunjin was still Hyunjin. Thoughtless in the way he touched, soft in the way he lingered. He didn’t think twice before pulling you into a hug that lasted too long. Didn’t hesitate to rest his chin on your shoulder while brushing his teeth beside you in the mirror. You were just his person. The one who knew his favorite ramen flavor, the only one he let read his notebooks when he got too deep in his head. The one he curled around like a cat on cold mornings, blanket tangled between your legs.
It was never meant to be anything else.
Except now, every time his fingers brushed your skin, it felt like a match struck against your nerves.
You’d flinch — not outwardly, but inside, something always jumped. And he never noticed. Never looked twice.
You got good at pretending. That was your new talent. Smiling through the heat that bloomed in your chest. Holding your breath when he leaned in too close. Laughing like you weren’t falling in love with every little thing he didn’t realize he was doing.
Like now.
You were in the passenger seat of his car, driving home from some late-night errand getting snacks and candles and that moisturizer he liked but could never find. The sky outside was ink-black, the city glowing in fragments through the windshield. Music played low, something dreamy, ambient. A D4VD song you didn’t know the name of.
He was humming under his breath, his voice soft, almost boyish in the quiet.
You had your legs crossed loosely, skirt riding a little high on your thighs, but you didn’t think much of it. Not until Hyunjin’s hand left the gear shift, moved lazily to rest on your leg — light, like it always was. Familiar. Careless.
Except this time, it was your bare thigh.
Warm skin against warm skin. His fingertips just resting there, unconscious and unbothered. A touch he’d done a hundred times before.
But never like this.
You froze.
Not visibly. You kept your face turned toward the window, your mouth pulling into a soft smile at something he said, something you didn’t even hear.
The movement of the car made it worse. Every bump in the road sent a subtle shift through your body, the light drag of his hand against your skin, knuckles grazing higher, then settling again. Not intentionally. He wasn’t even aware.
But it lit something low in your stomach. That terrible, quiet ache.
You stared out the window like it was the most fascinating view in the world. Said nothing. Didn’t breathe too deeply.
Because the moment you acknowledged it, you knew the spell would break. Or worse — you’d say something you couldn’t take back.
And Hyunjin? He just kept driving, humming softly. Like his touch didn’t burn you alive.
He didn’t move his hand from your thigh until his phone buzzed in the console.
He shifted just enough to check it, eyes flicking down, the glow of the screen lighting up his face in the dark. His hand left your skin. You exhaled silently.
“Jisung’s throwing a party tomorrow night,” he said, like nothing strange had happened. “Wants us to come.”
You blinked, still trying to breathe like a normal person. “Yeah,” you said quickly. “Let’s go.”
And just like that, the moment was gone.
But it stayed with you long after you went home. Long after you’d changed into pajamas and buried yourself beneath your sheets and stared up at the ceiling, your skin still tingling where his hand had been. You tried not to read into it. Failed spectacularly.
Because no matter how many times you told yourself it was meaningless — just Hyunjin being Hyunjin — it never felt that way to you.
—
The next night, you dressed slowly.
You didn’t mean to try so hard. You didn’t. But your hands lingered over the soft hem of your dress, your eyes scanning your reflection for anything he might notice. Anything that might make him look twice. Foolish, you told yourself. You knew better. But the hope was a quiet thing, and it didn’t ask permission to bloom.
Hyunjin picked you up just past nine. Same lazy smile. “You look nice,” he said, like it was routine.
You tried not to die inside.
Jisung’s place was already full when you arrived, warm lights, loud music, the living room packed with bodies and laughter. Familiar faces from old parties, new people you didn’t care to know. You stuck close to Hyunjin at first, the way you always did. It wasn’t even a choice anymore, he was your orbit.
There were games going on. Stupid things. Seven minutes in heaven, truth or dare, couples kissing in the middle of dares they barely flinched at. It was messy and loud and full of things you tried not to want.
Hyunjin settled next to you on the couch, thigh pressed to yours. His arm draped along the back, fingers grazing your shoulder every now and then. He smelled like cedarwood and clean laundry. You tried not to lean in.
“Couples are so annoying,” Jisung said from across the room, groaning theatrically as two people fawned all over each other. “Get a room, Jesus.”
Hyunjin snorted beside you. “Seriously. They look insane.”
The words stabbed a little harder than they should’ve.
You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Your chest felt tight. Maybe it was the noise, or the room, or just him — sitting there beside you like he wasn’t everything you wanted. Like he hadn’t just reminded you, again, that you’d never be it for him.
Because Hyunjin didn’t do love. He didn’t want it. Not from anyone.
And especially not from you.
You looked away. Reached for a cup you hadn’t planned on drinking from.
The first shot burned your throat.
The second made you laugh too loud at something that wasn’t funny.
The third — well, you didn’t remember pouring it.
By the time the music blurred into static and the room tipped slightly when you stood, your head was full of him. His hand on your leg. His voice saying “They look insane.” The way he smiled like nothing between you had ever been dangerous.
You drank because it was easier than feeling.
Hyunjin had stopped drinking long ago. You saw him watching you. Concern flickered in his eyes every time you reached for another glass. You ignored him. You were good at that, too.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said finally, coming over and gently prying the cup from your fingers. “Let’s go home.”
You blinked up at him, a little dazed. “What?”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
His hand slipped around your wrist firmly. His touch was always gentle when it came to you. It hurt more that way.
You didn’t protest when he guided you out, his hand never leaving yours. Not until you stepped into the night and the air bit at your skin and your head started to clear just enough to feel everything again.
The ache. The longing. The quiet devastation of wanting someone who would never want you back.
—
You sat slumped against the passenger window, forehead pressed to the cool glass, trying not to think about the way his hand brushed yours when he helped you into the car. How it had lingered — warm, steady, a little too close to deliberate. Like he’d meant to pull you in and then remembered who you were.
Almost.
Outside, the city passed in slow, sleepy streaks. Warm golds. Faded greys. The world felt quieter than it should’ve, your heartbeat too loud against the hush of his playlist humming in the background. Neither of you spoke.
You didn’t trust your voice not to crack if you did.
When he pulled up outside your building, the engine ticked into silence, and for a beat too long, neither of you moved.
You shifted. “You don’t have to walk me up.”
“I know.” But he came anyway.
The elevator was a closed box of silence. Your floor blinked past in soft dings, but you barely registered them. You were too aware of him, the heat of his body beside you, the clean scent of his cologne, the way his hand brushed the small of your back when you stepped out, so light you almost convinced yourself you imagined it.
Your fingers fumbled with the keys. Wine still in your blood. Nerves screaming under your skin. The key missed the lock once — twice — before Hyunjin reached forward, curling his hand around your wrist.
“Hey,” he murmured. “I got it.”
It wasn’t the touch that undid you. It was how long he held it. How gentle. How it felt like he wanted to stay close.
Like maybe he didn’t hate how your skin felt, even if he didn’t want to need it.
The door clicked open. You stepped inside. He followed without asking. Like always.
And maybe it was the way the light fell soft against his jaw, or the fact that your mouth still tasted like longing, or the weight of his hand still echoing against your wrist — but suddenly you couldn’t stop yourself.
“Do you really think love is a mistake?”
He turned toward you. Brow faintly drawn. “What?”
You swallowed. Closed the door behind you. “At the party. When Jisung was making fun of couples. You said they looked stupid. You meant it, didn’t you?”
He stared at you for a long moment. Long enough to make the air feel heavy.
Then he crossed the room, leaned against your kitchen counter, arms folding across his chest like armor. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I meant it.”
You waited. He didn’t elaborate.
“Why?” you asked.
His jaw tightened. He rubbed the back of his neck — a nervous habit — like he was trying to chase something out of his own skin. “Because love ruins things,” he said, low and bitter. “Because people say forever and leave the second it gets hard. Because I’ve already been that idiot once and it fucking broke me.”
The words were sharp. Not at you but still, they cut.
“I’m not people, Hyunjin.”
That made him pause.
His gaze lifted. Locked on yours. And for the first time that night, he looked at you. Not past you. Not through you. At you — like he was seeing something he hadn’t let himself see before.
His voice came out rough. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That thing where you make it sound like you could be different.”
“Maybe I could be.”
His shoulders tensed. You took a step closer.
“I’ve been here,” you said softly. “Every time. No matter what mood you’re in. No matter how much you push.”
“Because you’re my best friend.”
“I know.” Your voice cracked a little. “But still, you let me in. You always do.”
He didn’t speak.
You took another step.
“You touch me like it means something,” you whispered. “And maybe it doesn’t. Maybe I’m just reading into things I shouldn’t. But I wish—”
You stopped. Bit back the words.
“I wish you didn’t make it so easy to love you.”
That hit.
You saw it. The way his eyes flickered. The way his lips parted like he was about to say something he’d regret.
The space between you throbbed.
He stepped toward you — slow, hesitant — until he was close enough to reach. Close enough that you felt the warmth of his breath. His gaze dropped, lingered on your mouth.
He didn’t kiss you. But he didn’t walk away either.
Your name left his lips, soft and broken. A whisper edged in something dangerous.
You blinked, swallowed hard, then stepped back. Too fast.
“Forget it,” you murmured. “I’m tired.”
“Wait—”
But you were already turning, already walking toward your bedroom, away from the crash you almost let happen.
And Hyunjin stood in your kitchen hands clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving like he’d just realized something he wasn’t ready to admit. Still he didn’t follow.
—
You woke up with the taste of regret clinging to your tongue.
Your head pounded, the dull throb blooming behind your eyes as sunlight bled through your curtains too brightly. Your throat was dry, your limbs a little heavy, like your body was punishing you for last night’s stupidity.
And then it hit you.
Not the headache. Not the dehydration.
The memory.
Your breath stalled. You shot upright, the sheets tangling around your legs like they were trying to drag you back under. You’d said it. You actually said it. Out loud. To him. In your kitchen. With your hair a mess and wine swimming in your veins.
“I wish you didn’t make it so easy to love you.”
You groaned — loud and pathetic — and shoved your face into your hands. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”
Your chest tightened. Your stomach churned. You pulled at your hair like it might jolt the moment out of your skull, erase the words, roll back the clock. But they were still there, echoing through your skull like a song you couldn’t shut off.
You checked your phone. Nothing from him. Not a single text. No call. Not even a stupid meme, which he always sent after parties, something about how hard he’d regretted leaving the house, or how gross drunk people were.
But this time? Radio silence.
You paced. You spiraled. You considered deleting your entire existence and moving to another continent. Maybe start a new life with a new name. Somewhere snowy. Somewhere far from boys with lazy grins and hands that rest too casually on your thigh.
God, his hand.
You let out a strangled sound, turned on your heel, and marched toward the kitchen. You needed water. Or coffee. Or a time machine.
You rounded the corner—and screamed.
Hyunjin was standing by your counter.
Barefoot. Hair a mess. Same hoodie from last night slouched off one shoulder, like he’d never left.
Because he hadn’t.
Your heart slammed against your ribs. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
He didn’t flinch. “I couldn’t leave.”
You blinked. Words stuttering behind your lips. “You—? What?”
“I tried. I got as far as the door.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, jaw tight. “But I couldn’t go.”
You stared at him, throat closing around a dozen questions you were too afraid to ask.
His voice was quieter now. “We need to talk.”
And just like that, the hangover didn’t matter anymore.
You swallowed. The air between you shifted, dense and sharp like a wire pulled too tight. “Right. Um. Okay.”
You backed toward the fridge like the moment might forget you existed if you just kept moving. Pulled open the door. Grabbed the water bottle. Avoided his eyes.
He didn’t speak. Just watched you — heavy, unmoving, arms folded across his chest like a barricade.
You unscrewed the cap. Took a long drink. Cleared your throat. “About last night…”
His gaze didn’t waver.
You smiled shaky and rehearsed. “I was so drunk. I barely remember anything.”
A beat passed.
He blinked once. Slowly. “You don’t remember.”
“Not really, no.”
“Nothing at all?”
You gave a small, helpless laugh. “I mean, bits and pieces. I was clearly talking nonsense—”
“Right,” he cut in. “Nonsense.”
He turned his head then, jaw flexing. Something sharp flashed through his expression, not hurt or disbelief but something closer to anger.
Your stomach dipped and you shifted on your feet. “I just didn’t want to make things weird between us.”
“Well, too late for that,” he said, voice tight.
You blinked. “Hyunjin—”
He took a step toward you.
Your breath caught.
He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes narrowing. “So let me get this straight. You weren’t confessing anything. You didn’t mean any of it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, you said you don’t remember.” He moved again. Another step. “You’re saying I made it up?”
“That’s not—”
“You’re saying I imagined the way your voice shook when you said you loved me?”
You froze.
He kept going. Low. Dangerous. Closer.
“You’re saying my touch doesn’t affect you?”
You flinched.
“Doesn’t make you forget what you’re saying, what you’re doing, who you’re trying so hard to be?”
His hand lifted slowly and deliberately brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. Just the pads of his fingers, soft and reverent, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to touch you or punish you with it.
You didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.
His voice was barely a whisper now. “Tell me I made it up.”
You couldn’t. Because you didn’t.
And he knew that. Every inch of him — from the tight line of his shoulders to the way his mouth hovered just shy of yours — was daring you to keep lying.
And you couldn’t do it. Not when your whole body was already leaning into the gravity of him.
Not when every second of silence stretched the ache between you like a fuse begging to be lit.
You didn’t mean to touch him. Your hand just moved on its own — curled gently over his chest like it could quiet the tremble beneath your skin. He was so close now, heat radiating off him like a fever, like fire, and you were drowning in it.
And then he pulled you in.
A sharp inhale caught in your throat as his hands slid around your waist. His grip wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t soft either, it was firm. Steady. Like he wasn’t letting go, even if he should.
He stared down at you, the weight of his gaze unbearable. Like he could read every word you hadn’t said. Like your silence was loud.
You didn’t know what to do with the way he looked at you.
You didn’t know what to do with the way your body ached to close the last inch.
His mouth was right there, full and parted, breath fanning across your cheek like a dare. You felt the heat blooming in your chest, your stomach, the place between your thighs. You weren’t breathing. Couldn’t.
“Are you ready to talk now?” he asked, voice thick, jaw tight.
The spell shattered like glass between you.
You pulled back. Just barely. Not enough to escape, only to feel the sudden absence of the moment you were about to break into.
Your throat burned. “Do we have to?”
He didn’t smile. “Yes.”
You stepped back, just enough for air, for distance, even if it felt like a wound. He let you go. Slowly. Like it hurt him too.
You moved to the couch, legs folding under you like your bones forgot how to hold your weight. Hyunjin stayed standing for a moment, then sat beside you but far enough to be polite and close enough to make your chest ache.
He spoke first.
“I don’t do love,” he said, low and flat. “Not anymore.”
You stared at your hands. “I know.”
“I’m not built for it. I ruin people. I ruin things that matter.”
“You don’t ruin—”
He cut you off. “I can’t lose you.”
Your breath caught.
He looked at you then — really looked. Like he was begging you to understand the truth behind the cruelty. “If we cross that line and it goes wrong, we don’t come back from it. And I’d rather die than lose what we have.”
You swallowed hard. “Hyunjin—”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you’re serious.” Your voice cracked. “That’s the problem.”
He went quiet.
You stared at the floor, eyes glassy, throat burning. “Do you think I wanted this?”
He flinched.
“I didn’t plan to fall for you. I wasn’t sitting around plotting the day I’d mess up our friendship and destroy every ounce of peace I have with you.”
He looked at you then, expression unreadable.
“If I hadn’t been drunk last night, you would’ve never even known. I would’ve buried it like I’ve been doing for months. I would’ve pretended I was fine.”
He said nothing.
“And now I wish I had. I wish I could take it back. Not the feelings—” your voice broke, “but the part where you know.”
Silence pressed down like a weight.
You thought maybe, maybe he’d soften now. Maybe he’d say it was okay, that he understood.
But his jaw clenched. His fists tightened.
“Right,” he said, voice sharp. “So the part you regret is that I know. That’s what’s unbearable.”
You blinked. “That’s not what I meant—”
He stood suddenly, pacing now. Anger clinging to every movement. “You think I wanted to know that last night? You think I haven’t spent months trying to unsee the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching?”
You went still.
He continued, voice low, rough with something too bitter to name. “Do you think I haven’t wanted you?”
Silence. Heavy. Deadly.
“Because I have,” he whispered. “And it scared the shit out of me.”
Hyunjin didn’t look at you when he had started talking. He stood in the center of your living room, hands restless at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Like if he looked at you, really looked, the whole damn thing would collapse.
“I didn’t want it to get this far,” he said quietly. “Not because I didn’t feel it. God, that’s the problem. I did.”
You froze.
“I thought I could control it,” he went on, still not meeting your eyes. “That if I ignored it long enough, if I kept the lines blurry but just on the edge, I could trick myself out of wanting more.”
You couldn’t breathe.
“I used to tell myself you didn’t feel it back. That it was just me being stupid. Needy. Fucking reckless.” He exhaled like the words had been clawing at his throat. “But it was easier when I could lie to myself. When I thought you didn’t want me.”
Your heart cracked open.
“I’ve ruined things before,” he said. “I’ve crossed lines and lost people and ended up with nothing but memories I can’t even look at without feeling sick. And this—” His voice caught. “You’re not just anyone. You’re you. If I lose you—”
He broke off. Finally looked at you.
“And now I know you feel it too,” he said, softer this time. “And that makes it worse. Because now I don’t have an excuse. Now it’s not just me risking everything, it’s you, and if this goes sideways, I don’t know if I can survive it.”
You didn’t speak. You just watched him, the slope of his shoulders, the unsteady rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes gave him away even when his mouth tried to bury the truth.
He still thought he was protecting you.
But it was too late for that. You were already in it, knee-deep in the ache of wanting him, the mess of loving him when you weren’t supposed to. And now you knew he’d been there too, quietly drowning beside you.
You stepped toward him.
His breath hitched.
Another step.
He went quiet, eyes tracking your every move like he couldn’t believe it was happening.
“I just—” he started, but the words faltered. His gaze dropped to your mouth. “I’m trying to explain—”
You didn’t let him. You reached for him, hands slipping up his chest and then, without giving him time to overthink it, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.
Softly.
His whole body went still.
Then, slowly, like gravity was always going to win, his hands found your waist and pulled you in.
The moment your lips touched his again, something broke. Not like a door creaking open — no, it splintered, cracked wide with the force of everything you both had kept buried. All the pretending. All the tension. All the times his hand lingered too long or his eyes dropped to your lips before he looked away. All of it, gone.
Hyunjin kissed you back like he’d been starving for it. His hands gripped your waist like they didn’t trust you to stay. His mouth slanted over yours, greedy, all tongue and heat and breath. He backed you into the wall without thinking, your spine pressing into it as he kissed you harder, deeper, like you were something he’d gone too long without and wasn’t sure he’d ever get again.
You moaned into his mouth and felt him shudder.
It wasn’t gentle. Nothing about it was. His hands moved — down, around, up again — like he couldn’t figure out where he needed to touch you first. Like he wanted to touch all of you at once. And when you tugged at his shirt, he gasped against your lips, forehead dropping to yours for just a second before he dragged you right back in.
“I shouldn’t,” he whispered, the words barely making it out between kisses. “Fuck— I shouldn’t be doing this.”
But his mouth didn’t stop. Neither did yours.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugged — and he groaned, low and wrecked, and kissed you like the world was ending. Like this was the last chance he’d ever get and he had to make it count. Your thigh brushed his hip, and his hand dropped low, pulling you closer, flush against him. You felt all of it. The tension, the heat, the way his body trembled like he was about to fall apart.
And maybe he was.
Because this wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t safe or careful or quiet.
This was everything.
You didn’t care. You didn’t want safe. You wanted him. Wanted every part of him he tried to hide, every buried glance and stolen moment and terrified truth. And now that you had it — had him — there was no pretending anymore.
He kissed you like he finally understood that. And still, it wasn’t enough
His lips dragged down your jaw, bruising kisses pressed beneath your ear, and you felt the words before you heard them — breathless and shaken.
“Tell me to stop.”
His voice cracked as he said it. Like it cost him everything just to get the words out.
“Tell me to walk away right now, and I will.”
You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
“I’m serious,” he said again, softer now, forehead pressed to your neck like he couldn’t bear to look at you. His hands trembled where they gripped your waist. “Just say the word. Please. Before we—before I ruin everything.”
And maybe in another life, you would’ve. Maybe if his touch didn’t feel like home and every kiss didn’t feel like a promise he’d been aching to keep, you would’ve saved him. Saved yourself.
But you didn’t want saving.
You wanted him.
So you reached for his face, made him look at you — really look at you — and you said it like a vow.
“I want you, Hyunjin.”
He flinched like it hurt to hear.
You stepped closer anyway, your voice a whisper against his lips.
“We won’t ruin anything,” you promised, fingers threading into his hair. “Not if you just let me love you. Not if you just let it happen.”
Something snapped in him and then he was on you. Mouth claiming yours, teeth catching your bottom lip before he groaned deep in his throat and kissed you like he’d been waiting. Like this was a secret he’d never meant to let slip, and now that he had, he needed every part of you to make sense of it.
You didn’t stand a chance. His hands were under your shirt before you could blink, fingers mapping your skin like he was desperate to learn it by heart. Clothes tugged off, your top discarded, his shirt thrown to the floor. Every inch of newly bared skin ignited under his touch. Your skirt bunched at your hips, and the moment his hand slid between your thighs, you nearly sobbed.
“Fuck—” he hissed, mouth dragging down your neck. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You did. You felt it. Pressed up against you, hard and pulsing through the thin fabric of his sweats. He rocked into you once, and your knees buckled. His arms caught you before you fell.
He carried you like you weighed nothing.
You didn’t remember how you got to the couch. Just his mouth, hot and everywhere, and the way he settled you beneath him, eyes dark with something between reverence and hunger. You weren’t trembling — you were shaking.
“Are you sure?” he asked, hovering above you, voice wrecked. “Tell me now, and I’ll stop. I swear.”
You cupped his cheek. Pulled him down until your lips were brushing his.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
You felt the way that shattered him.
A ragged breath left his lips, and something raw crossed his face — awe, hunger, need. And then he kissed you. Deep and dizzying. No more hesitation. No more holding back. Just Hyunjin tasting your mouth like he’d starved for it, like he was finally allowed to be greedy.
His hands were everywhere, cradling your jaw, skimming down your ribs, tugging your skirt up your thighs until it bunched around your waist. When his fingers slipped beneath your panties, finding you slick and already throbbing, he moaned like it physically hurt him to touch you.
“Fuck… you’re already so wet,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “Did I do that?”
You nodded, barely able to form words.
“Hyun…”
“Say it again,” he murmured, fingers parting your folds, dragging over your clit in slow, teasing circles. “Say my name like that.”
You gasped, hips arching into his touch. “Hyunjin—”
He groaned. “God, you’re gonna kill me.”
Then he was trailing down your body, kissing a path from your chest to your stomach, his hands anchoring your thighs as he sank to his knees on the floor. You propped yourself up on your elbows, breath caught in your throat.
He hooked your panties to the side and just… looked. Like you were art. Like he’d dreamed of this exact moment and couldn’t believe it was real.
And then his mouth was on you. Hot. Wet. Relentless. His tongue lapped through your folds, slow and sinful, before wrapping around your clit and sucking hard. Your head fell back with a cry, fingers flying to his hair, but he just groaned against you, the vibration making you choke on a moan.
“Shit—Hyunjin, oh my god—”
He didn’t stop. If anything, he got hungrier. Dipping his tongue into your entrance, fucking you with it, then dragging it back up to flick over your clit until your thighs were shaking.
When your hips bucked up too hard, he gripped your thighs tighter and held you down, his shoulders braced against your legs to keep you from moving.
“You’re gonna cum for me,” he muttered against you, voice thick and dark. “On my tongue. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long—”
You were already there.
Your back arched, mouth falling open in a silent scream as the orgasm hit you like a wave crashing down. He kept licking through it, eyes locked on your face like he needed to see you fall apart.
When you finally collapsed back against the couch, breathless and wrecked, he crawled back up your body and kissed you, slow and filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
“You good?” he asked, voice a rasp in your ear.
You blinked at him. “Are you?”
He gave a breathless laugh and looked down between you. “Not even close.”
You hadn’t even realized he’d stripped out of his sweats. His cock was flushed, thick, and straining with need — and he was still trying to hold back.
That wouldn’t do.
You reached for him, but he caught your hand and kissed your fingers before pushing them away. Then he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wider, and hooked your legs over his shoulders. The position left you bare and open and trembling.
His eyes burned into yours.
“I need you to look at me when I fuck you.”
Then he pressed forward. The first inch made your breath catch , too much, too deep, but you didn’t look away. Neither did he.
“Fuck—” he gritted out, his hips pushing forward in slow, agonizing inches until he was fully inside, stretching you open, filling you to the hilt. “You feel like heaven. Like you were made for me.”
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Just him, inside you, looking at you like this was his last wish granted.
And then he moved. He pulled out and sank back in, hard and deep, your legs folded up on his shoulders, the angle hitting something devastating. Your moan broke halfway out as he picked up a rhythm, hips snapping forward, each thrust driving the air from your lungs.
“Tell me you want this,” he said, voice tight. “Tell me this isn’t just in my head.”
“I want you,” you gasped. “As real as it can get—always.”
That undid him. His hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit again as he fucked you deeper, harder. The couch creaked under you, the heat between your bodies suffocating. You could barely hold on, could barely keep your eyes open.
And then you came again, harder this time. Shaking, crying out his name, nails raking down his back as you clung to him. He followed seconds later, hips jerking, his face buried in your neck as he came with a broken groan, body tense and shuddering above you.
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the soft, desperate way he kissed your shoulder.
Then his voice, hoarse in your ear.
“We’re so fucked.”
And you smiled, wrecked and radiant.
“I know.”
—
You didn’t know how long you stayed tangled like that. Your legs still draped over his hips, his chest rising and falling against yours, sweat cooling between your bodies. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and everything unspoken.
Hyunjin’s fingers trailed gently over your hip, then your stomach, then the side of your throat like he was relearning every inch of you now that he didn’t have to pretend he hadn’t imagined this a thousand times before.
Then he kissed you, not with hunger this time, but like he’d been waiting years to kiss you soft.
“You okay?” he murmured against your lips.
You nodded, brushing your nose against his.
“More than okay.”
His eyes searched your face, like he was trying to commit you to memory all over again.
“We should get you cleaned up,” he whispered. “You’re all sticky.”
You let him carry you to the bathroom.
He set you on the counter first and helped you undress fully, stealing kisses as he did, his hands so gentle now, like he didn’t want to miss a moment of touching you like this. He peeled your underwear down slowly, kissed your thighs. His eyes flicked down between your legs — red, sensitive, swollen from what they’d done.
A blush climbed your neck.
But he just smiled, warm and a little dazed.
“I like seeing you like this,” he said quietly. “All wrecked from me.”
The shower was hot and full of steam. He let you step in first, then wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as the water ran over both of you.
Neither of you talked much. Just small sounds. Little laughs. The soft lather of his hands running over your arms, your back, your chest.
When you turned to face him, water dripping down your hair and cheeks, he stared at you like you were made of gold.
“I still feel like I’m dreaming,” he said. “I’ve wanted this for so long, I don’t know how to believe it’s real.”
You touched his face. “It’s real.”
He leaned into your palm.
“Then say it again.”
You blinked. “Say what?”
“Those three words.” His voice cracked a little. “Just once more. Please.”
Your heart stuttered.
You stood on your toes and kissed him, slow and tender, water slipping between your mouths. When you pulled back, you looked him straight in the eyes.
“I love you.”
Hyunjin exhaled like you’d knocked the wind out of him. His arms wrapped tighter around your waist, like if he didn’t hold you closer he might fall apart.
“I love you too,” he whispered. “God, I love you so much it fucking hurts.”
And then he was kissing you again. Not frantic — not this time. Just deep, adoring, like he finally knew what home tasted like.
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Authors note: Everyone please say happy birthday to Angel @angel-writes-skz-here ! Thanks for organizing this fun event, I need you guys to check the Event Masterlist for the other stories! Mine was based on the song DLMLU, i hope i captured it well 🥹❤️
Tags: Smut, Slow burn, Forbidden romance, Semi-public sex, Teasing, Power play, Oral sex (m,f receiving), Dirty talk, light choking/hand over mouth, tattoo kink, slight exhibitionism, consensual but risky behavior.
Word count: 5.4k
Summary: You were the librarian, a little older and off-limits. Han Jisung was a cocky student who didn’t know how to stop pushing your buttons. You told him no. More than once. But when he caught you alone between the shelves, kissed you like he’d been waiting for it, and bent you over the shelves with people just aisles away… you didn’t stop him. And you liked it way too much.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
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The library always quieted differently after dark.
Not just in sound, but in atmosphere. Like the silence turned heavier, more intimate. Fluorescent lights dimmed to half-brightness. The occasional cough or page-flip from a lone student somewhere deep in the stacks. The hum of the vending machine by the entrance. You liked this time. It gave you space. Time to breathe.
You’d been shelving returned books near the psychology section when you felt it, that crawling heat at the back of your neck. You didn’t even have to look to know.
Jisung.
He never said anything right away. Just always watched you move. You turned, spine straightening before your eyes met his.
There he was, backpack slung over one shoulder and that lazy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was thinking something he shouldn’t be. He leaned against the end of the bookshelf, one hand curled around the edge, the other raking through his hair.
“You know,” he said, voice low and far too casual for how your pulse jumped, “I read somewhere that exposure therapy works best when the subject is… close to the trigger.”
You raised a brow. “Is that your excuse for lurking?”
He shrugged. “Depends. Is it working?”
“You’re not even taking psych this semester.”
He smirked. “Doesn’t mean I can’t study the subject.”
His eyes dragged down your body… slow and deliberate, just long enough to make your skin prickle under your cardigan. You swallowed and turned back toward the shelf, pretending to scan titles you’d already organized twice.
It wasn’t just tonight. Jisung had been playing this game with you for weeks, walking you to the back room under the excuse of a broken scanner, asking for obscure books from the top shelf so you’d have to reach, leaning far too close over the circulation desk when he handed in a textbook like he didn’t know what he was doing.
And you? you were worse. You hadn’t stopped him.
“You should go home,” you murmured without turning.
“So should you.” His voice was closer now. You could feel it—heat, presence, close proximity. “But here we are.”
You stared at the book spines in front of you, heart thudding too loud.
This was ridiculous. You were staff. He was a student. A little younger, reckless in that cocky, beautiful way that only made it harder to draw the line. You’d convinced yourself it was harmless. Just teasing. Just looks. Just tension you could control.
But now he was right behind you. Close enough that you could feel the brush of his hoodie string against your lower back, could smell the faint hint of coffee and something darker on his skin.
“You really like this aisle, huh?” he murmured.
“It’s quiet.”
His breath ghosted the side of your neck. “It won’t be for long.”
You turned sharply—a mistake. His face was inches from yours. His eyes weren’t just playful anymore. They were dark and focused. Like he’d been waiting for you to flinch. Like he could feel that heat thumping beneath your skin just as badly as his own.
“This is a professional environment,” you said. Stupid. Weak. Your voice betrayed you.
Jisung tilted his head. “Is it?”
You hated how he said it. Like you weren’t the authority figure here. Like the power wasn’t supposed to be in your hands. Like he wasn’t the one breaking the rules.
But then, were you really stopping him?
“You gonna kick me out?” he asked softly. “Or you just gonna keep pretending you don’t look for me before I even walk in?”
Your breath caught. And that—that—was when you realized: you’d already lost. Because he was right.
—
Jisung had made a habit of showing up exactly when you didn’t want him to, when the floor was just busy enough to keep you on edge, when your hair was a little messy from re-shelving, when you were trying very hard not to think about the way he looked last week with his mouth close to your ear.
That had been after hours. You’d escaped before anything dangerous could happen. He’d let you go. You told yourself that meant something.
But this time… this time felt different.
He came in around two, when the library was bathed in honeyed light and filled with quiet urgency, students bent over laptops, the soft clatter of keyboards and the shuffle of overstuffed bags. You were halfway through scanning a stack of returns when you caught the familiar flash of movement out of the corner of your eye. Jisung was already looking at you.
You exhaled, eyes flicking back to the monitor. Pretend you didn’t see him. Pretend your heart wasn’t slamming the inside of your ribs like it knew something you didn’t.
But he didn’t go to a table this time. Didn’t even pretend to be here for anything else. He strolled right up to the counter.
“Back so soon?” you said, tone steady. Professional. Mostly.
He leaned on the desk, forearms bare under his rolled-up sleeves. “What can I say? I missed the smell of your perfume.”
You didn’t smile. You refused to smile.
He cocked his head slightly. “No witty comeback?”
“I’m working.”
“Mm.” He looked you over, slow and unhurried. “You know, I really like when you wear your hair like that.”
You swallowed.
“Messy. Like someone just ran their fingers through it.”
You definitely didn’t smile. “Do you say that to all the library staff, or am I just lucky?”
He grinned, pure sin. “You’re special.”
He didn’t stay long. Just enough to light a fire in your bloodstream before he disappeared between the shelves with an armful of books you were 90% sure he wasn’t planning to read. You tried to forget about him. You needed to forget about him.
But then he did it again. And again. Every time you passed through the aisles, he was there. Never in the same spot. Never doing anything suspicious. Just… watching and smirking.
You reached the back stacks to re-shelve an oversized volume on postmodern design. The nonfiction section. It was always quiet there.
You bent slightly to slide the book into place, and that’s when you heard his voice behind you, lower than usual. Almost a whisper.
“Are you trying to drive me insane?”
You startled, heart lurching. “Jesus—Jisung. You can’t keep sneaking up on me like that.”
“I wasn’t sneaking.” His eyes glinted, dark and amused. “You just weren’t paying attention.”
You stood up too fast. “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
He didn’t move. Just looked at you like he was reading between the lines of your blouse.
“You always say that,” he murmured, stepping closer. “And yet…”
The air between you changed. Denser. Hotter. Less oxygen, more tension.
You held your ground, though every part of you screamed to move—forward or back, toward him or away, you weren’t sure.
“There are people all over this floor,” you said quietly. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m trying not to be,” he said, voice rasping. “You’re not making it easy.”
Then he reached out. Just with his fingers brushing your wrist. As if testing waters.
And you… didn’t pull away.
His hand drifted to your waist, palm warm through the fabric, and you swore you felt his fingers tremble. Just a little. Like he was barely keeping it together.
“This is a bad idea,” you whispered.
“I know,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “But you’re not telling me to go.”
“Go,” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder. “If someone sees—”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Oh come on…”
You opened your mouth. But no words came.
Because he was close now. Too close. Your back bumped the shelves behind you as his hand braced beside your head, his scent wrapping around you—clean sweat, cedar, something sweet and dizzying. Your knees nearly buckled when his other hand moved to your hip, sliding slow, deliberate.
“You don’t want this?” he asked, voice low, teeth grazing your jaw. “You want me to leave?”
“I—” You swallowed. “We can’t—this is crazy. I’m staff. You’re a—”
He kissed you.
And it was nothing like you expected.
It was violent in its hunger, like he’d been starving for months and finally got permission to taste. His mouth crushed against yours, hot and claiming, tongue sliding past your lips with a groan that rumbled straight through your chest.
You didn’t stop him. You kissed him back just as greedy, just as breathless. Your fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him impossibly close.
He growled into your mouth, hands gripping your waist, dragging you against the hard line of his cock, and you gasped involuntarily at how hard he already was.
“God,” he whispered against your lips, “I think about this every fucking night.”
Your hands moved on their own down his chest, over his stomach, fingers fumbling with the hem of his hoodie and under his belt. He sucked in a breath when your palm brushed him through his jeans.
“You’re hard,” you whispered, dazed.
“I’ve been hard,” he panted. “Since the first day you told me to keep my voice down.”
Your thighs clenched.
His mouth dragged down your neck, lips wet and open, teeth nipping skin that’d bruise if you weren’t careful. You weren’t careful. You didn’t care.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, even as you unbuckled his belt.
“Then stop.”
You didn’t. Instead your hand wrapped around him through the fabric, and he shuddered, head falling to your shoulder.
“Shit—don’t tease me.”
“You deserve it.”
He laughed into your skin, voice rough and reverent. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”
Then his hands were under your skirt, gripping your ass like he’d been fantasizing about it for a while. He lifted you halfway off the ground, pushing your back to the shelf with enough force to rattle books. You gasped again, arms looping around his shoulders, legs wrapping instinctively around his hips.
“You’re insane—” you tried.
“You haven’t stopped me yet.”
But you were already pulling him back in, kissing him with everything you didn’t say out loud. You were aching, soaking, drunk on friction and adrenaline. The heat between your legs was unbearable. All you needed was—
“Shhh.”
You both froze. The interrupting voice was too close. Footsteps padded past the edge of the aisle.
You held your breath, trembling. Jisung’s eyes burned into yours, his chest heaving where it pressed against your body, cock still twitching beneath your palm. His hand was still under your skirt. Your thong was wet through.
You stared at each other, throbbing with restraint.
Then like a switch, he leaned in, lips grazing your ear.
“Next time,” he whispered. “I’m not stopping.”
—
Later that evening, the parking lot was quiet. Sunset bled over the rooftops, spilling gold across your windshield. The wind smelled like warm concrete and the last breath of summer. Your keys jingled softly in your hand as you opened the driver’s side door.
You were almost in when you heard his voice.
“Running again?”
You froze. Of course he was here. You turned slowly, already trying to school your face into something neutral. Harmless. Bored, even.
“Shouldn’t you be halfway home by now?”
Jisung leaned against the lamppost near your car, hoodie slung low, jaw set harder than usual. His arms were crossed. Eyes dark, unreadable.
“I waited.”
You lifted a brow, like your pulse wasn’t thudding between your thighs. “For what?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just stared. That look again—sharp, locked in, too perceptive for someone his age.
“You think I’m just gonna let that shit slide?” he said finally. “You know you can’t just palm my cock in the library or wrap your legs around me and moan in my mouth and then walk away like it didn’t happen?”
You blinked. The voice he used… it wasn’t playful nor teasing. It cut. Stern and pretty dominant.
And It hit you straight between the legs.
You glanced away, hand tightening on your keys. “It was a mistake.”
He stepped forward. “Cut the shit.”
Your breath caught. The way he said it, low and firm, like a command. No smirk nor his usual grin. Just raw, strained control and too much restraint. Like he was seconds from dragging you into the backseat and making you say it again with your legs over his shoulders.
Your mouth went dry thinking about it.
He kept walking until he was inches from you. “You think I haven’t been losing my fucking mind over you?”
“Jisung—”
“I walk into that library every goddamn day hoping today’s the day you snap and drag me into your office and ride me like I know you want to.”
You swallowed hard. Heat pooled deep in your stomach.
“I think about your voice when I jerk off,” he went on, softer now. “I think about the way you breathe when I get too close. I think about that tight little skirt and how it felt under my hands. I’m not fucking sorry for wanting you.”
You stared at him, chest rising fast. He was too close. You could smell him. Still taste him. Still feel him.
“I’m a staff member,” you whispered. “I could get in trouble.”
He looked at you like he could see through you. “So don’t want me then.”
Your jaw clenched.
He continued, “Don’t think about me at night. Don’t get wet when you see me. Don’t lurk around that aisle you can remember what I did to you.”
Your lips parted. “You don’t know anything.”
He smirked, but there was no humor in it. Just hunger. “Oh yeah? Then say it.”
“What?”
“Say you don’t want me.”
You hesitated. Seconds passed in silence and yet, you didn’t say it. Because it wasn’t true and Jisung knew.
He stepped back just enough to give you breath, but his eyes never left your face.
“This thing?” you said softly, voice a little hoarse. “It’s going to cause trouble.”
He smiled, slow and wicked. “Good.”
—
You hadn’t seen him in seven days.
Not in the aisles. Not lurking by the printer. Not leaning on your desk with that maddening smile and a bullshit question he didn’t care about the answer to.
It shouldn’t have mattered. You were relieved, weren’t you?
Except you weren’t.
You were restless. Irritable. Distracted. You found yourself glancing toward the entrance every time it opened. You thought about texting him more than once, only to realize—he didn’t have your number. Not for lack of trying. He’d asked before, all smug and teasing, and you’d brushed him off like it was a joke. Now you kind of hated yourself for it.
Maybe that last conversation by your car had scared him off. You’d practically thrown a wall up in his face after kissing him like you needed him to breathe. Maybe he’d decided you weren’t worth the hassle. Maybe he’d moved on.
You told yourself it was for the best.
But that didn’t stop the ache when you closed your eyes at night. Or the memory of his hand on your thigh. The sound he made when you touched him. The way his voice dropped when he said, cut the shit.
You missed him. Which was ridiculous.
So when your shift started that day, you tried to snap out of it. Went through the motions. Shelved returns. Helped two freshmen who didn’t know the alphabet. Drank shitty coffee and kept your head down.
You didn’t see him walk in. Didn’t see the way his friends peeled off to the study tables while he lingered by the door, waiting.
Watching you just like he always did.
By the time you wandered to the back aisle—your favorite spot, familiar, quiet—your head was somewhere else entirely. You didn’t hear him behind you until it was too late.
A shadow fell across your back. Then a voice. “Miss me?”
Your heart stopped. You turned, breath caught mid-thought.
Jisung stood barely a foot away. Hoodie sleeves shoved up. Bag slung low. That same maddening look in his eyes, like he’d been waiting, and now the wait was over.
You blinked, stunned. “Where the hell have you been?”
He stepped in closer. “Oh you noticed.”
“I—” You stiffened. “You disappeared. I thought maybe…”
“You thought I gave up,” he said. “Because you told me I was trouble.”
“You kind of are.”
He grinned. “But you like it.”
You opened your mouth, but no words came. Because he was already moving, closing the distance until your back met the bookshelf. Your hands hovered at your sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.
“I was pissed,” he said. “Not at you. Just… needed space to cool down. Figure out if I could let it go.”
“And?”
“I couldn’t.”
You exhaled slowly, eyes falling to his mouth.
His voice dropped. “Did you miss me?”
You hated how fast your pulse jumped. “You shouldn’t be back here.”
He leaned in. “That’s not a no.”
“There are students—”
“Say it.”
You stared at him. “Say what?”
“That you missed me.”
You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.
Because when he kissed you—hard, sudden, hungry—you kissed him back like you’d been starving without him. His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face just right. The other gripped your hip, dragging you against him. You felt the hard press of his cock through his jeans, and your knees nearly gave out.
“Fuck,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours. “You smell like heaven. I forgot how soft your lips are. I dreamed about your ass every damn night.”
You choked on a laugh. “You’re still a menace.”
He squeezed your hip. “You like that I’m obsessed with you.”
You didn’t deny it, didn’t stop your hands from sliding under his hoodie, fingers skating over his abs. Didn’t stop your body from arching when he pressed harder into you.
But before you could pull him back in you heard them again. Footsteps. Voices.
You both froze.
Jisung’s hand slipped from your waist. You straightened like nothing had happened, fixing your cardigan with trembling fingers as a group of students passed by just out of sight.
The footsteps faded. You stayed frozen, breath caught, heartbeat pounding against your ribs like it wanted out. Jisung was a blur behind the shelves—half-hidden, half-waiting, body still coiled like a spring.
You thought he might walk away again.
But the second the aisle was empty, he moved fast. Like he couldn’t stop himself.
You barely managed a startled gasp before he had you caged between the shelves again, lips crashing into yours like he was starving, like every day apart had carved something hollow in him, and he was desperate to fill it.
“You can’t do this here,” you whispered, even as your fingers tangled in the hem of his hoodie. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah?” he rasped. “Then be insane with me.”
His mouth found your neck, tongue hot and wet against your skin. You shuddered when his teeth grazed that tender place below your ear, your hands tugging him closer despite every reason not to.
You felt him—every inch—rock hard against your thigh, his hips jerking just once like his body was trying to remember yours. You gasped when he gripped your ass with both hands, squeezing so hard it nearly lifted you off the ground.
“Fuck, baby…” he groaned, voice muffled against your throat. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”
“I think I do.”
You reached between your bodies, fingers brushing his belt, testing. His whole body jolted.
“You sure?” he breathed.
“No.” You undid the buckle anyway. “But that’s never stopped us.”
Jisung laughed. His voice low, rough, hungry. “Say that again.”
You said nothing. Just dragged his zipper down and palmed him through his briefs. He swore, forehead thudding gently against your shoulder.
“God, your hands…”
“You’re hard,” you said, like you hadn’t been dying to touch him all week. “From what? The thought of defiling the library?”
He growled. Growled. “I don’t care where we are. I just need to feel you.”
Your own restraint snapped when he spun you around and bent you forward over the nearest shelf. Your palms hit the spine of a dusty encyclopedia. You felt his hands shove your skirt up, fingers fumbling to tug your thong down.
The elastic snapped against your skin, and you gasped.
“Red lace,” he said. “Naughty girl.”
You tried to answer, but your brain had gone to static. Especially when he spread you open and his fingers brushed between your folds.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re soaked.”
“Jisung—”
“No more teasing,” he growled. “I’ve waited long enough.”
You barely had time to brace yourself before he slid his cock between your folds, slick with your arousal. He didn’t push in yet, just rocked his hips, coating himself in you.
“God,” he groaned, voice shaking. “I dreamed of this. Every fucking night.”
And then, he sank in. One inch. Then another. Then all of him.
You nearly cried out, head falling forward as he filled you to the hilt. He was thick, stretching you open so perfectly it hurt in the best possible way.
“Shhh,” he whispered, one hand clamping over your mouth. “Quiet, baby. I know. I know it’s too much.”
Your nails dug into the shelf, your body trembling with the effort to stay still, to stay silent, while he bottomed out inside you.
“You feel unreal,” he gritted. “God this pussy.”
You moaned against his palm. He fucked into you slowly at first, like he wanted to savor it, but that didn’t last long. The tight grip of your cunt, the whimper you made, the way you pushed your ass back to take more, it shattered his control.
His rhythm picked up. Dirty, deep strokes. The sound of skin meeting skin, your wetness clinging to him, echoing too loud in the quiet space.
Your walls clenched, fluttering around him, and he gasped against your neck.
“Fuck—do that again.”
You did. And he lost it.
Your whole body was shaking when he pulled out.
His hand still covered your mouth, and thank God it did because your moan might’ve carried across the whole damn library otherwise. Jisung stood behind you, panting, flushed, his cock slick with your arousal and twitching against your thigh. His belt hung open, zipper down, and there was a thin trail of you both clinging between your thighs.
“I’m gonna need to put a wet floor warning sign on this aisle,” he muttered, dazed.
You elbowed him weakly and reached behind to swat his hip. He caught your wrist midair.
“Don’t,” you said under your breath. “We’ll get caught.”
He smiled like a sinner in church. “You started it.”
“I—” You turned to glare at him, flushed, skirt still hiked up indecently. “I’m going to lose my job if someone finds out.”
“Then stop looking like my personal wet dream.”
You were about to argue again with your voice stern and your legs still trembling, when a shadow passed near the end of the aisle.
Your heart stuttered. You reached for your skirt, yanking it down with all the dignity you could muster. He did the same, fixing his zipper with a hiss. You looked like two guilty kids by the time the footsteps passed and faded entirely.
“Come with me,” you said suddenly, voice low. “To the back room.”
He blinked. “Seriously?”
You squared your shoulders, and said loud enough for anyone close by to hear. “There’s something I need your help with.”
His eyes burned through your lie, but he didn’t argue. Just followed, steps quiet behind you as you led him past the stacks, past the reference desk, through the narrow corridor with the locked storage.
The second the door clicked shut behind you, you spun. He didn’t even get the words out before you dropped to your knees.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, bracing one hand against the shelf as you reached for his belt again. “Are you—fuck—okay. Okay.”
You tugged him free again—hard and still damp from before—and wrapped your hand around the base. His breath stuttered.
“Fuck, you look good down there.”
You didn’t answer. Just leaned in and dragged your tongue up the length of him, slow and deliberate, tasting the evidence of what you’d done just minutes ago.
He swore low, his hips bucking. “Fucking hell—you’re gonna kill me.”
You sucked him in deep, letting your mouth go wet and messy, your spit mixing with the remnants of round one. His hand flew to your hair, fingers curling in tight.
“You’re really cleaning me up with your mouth? Is that what you’re doing, sweetheart?”
You moaned around him.
He groaned. “God, you’re filthy.”
His other hand hit the wall. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper each time, eyes flicking up just to see him fall apart, to see him biting his lip, staring down at you like you were something unreal.
“I can’t,” he breathed. “You’ll make me come again—baby, fuck—stop—”
You pulled off with a lewd pop.
“I wasn’t planning to stop,” you said, lips slick and swollen. “But if you’d rather fuck me—”
He hauled you up so fast you gasped. “I’d rather ruin you.”
Your back hit the table. Old leather-bound books slid to the floor. He lifted your blouse up, unbuttoning halfway before just yanking the rest over your head. Your bra followed. His hoodie hit the floor. Then his shirt.
Clothes scattered like confetti. He dragged you to the edge, fingers sliding into your soaked cunt like he owned it.
“Still so wet?” he muttered. “You really want this so bad, huh?”
You whimpered when he circled your clit.
“Been thinking about this pussy for a week,” he went on, panting against your neck. “Thinking about how you looked bent over those shelves, taking my cock like you were starving.”
“Jisung—”
He lined himself up and pushed in slow, deep, and pretty fucking dirty.
You cried out.
“That’s it,” he grunted. “Take it.”
He fucked you harder this time. No holding back, no fear of footsteps or passing students. Just the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the old wood beneath you, and the filthy things he whispered as he drove into you like a man possessed.
“You wanted this, didn’t you? Miss high-and-mighty librarian, acting so innocent. But look at you now. Moaning for my cock.”
You choked on a moan.
“Say it,” he growled, snapping his hips harder. “Say you wanted it.”
“I—I wanted it.”
“Say you want more.”
“I want more.”
“Say you’ll let me fuck you in here again.”
“God—yes.”
He grinned like the devil and slammed in so deep you saw stars.
You should’ve been cataloguing 19th-century theology texts. Instead, you were spread bare across a dusty storage table, heels digging into the edge, your moans muffled by the way Jisung’s mouth was dragging sinfully down your throat.
His tongue was hot. His cock, hotter. And somewhere in the haze of lust and sweat, you really looked at his sculpted body and that’s when you saw it.
The streaks of ink scrawled across his chest. A script you couldn’t fully read sitting under a compass, another larger writing winding down the line of muscle on his side that flexed every time he moved.
Your breath hitched. “You—have a tattoo?”
He leaned back just enough to flash a wicked grin. “Tattoos… I’ve got more than one.”
Then he gripped your thighs and dropped to his knees. You didn’t even get to ask where the others were.
One hand hooked under your knee, tossing your leg over his shoulder, the other spreading you open, and then warmth. His tongue found you.
“Jesus, Jisung—”
But he wasn’t listening. His mouth was locked on your cunt like he’d been starving for days. Tongue flat and greedy, dragging through your folds, flicking your clit until your whole body seized. Then he started sucking. Wet and filthy sucking that made your thighs tremble and your voice crack.
Your hand scrambled for purchase, knocking over some ancient volume of a Shakespeare book, but all you could see was him—eyes dark, tongue buried, inked chest rising and falling as he feasted on you like he meant to memorize your taste.
He moaned into you. Like your pleasure was his purpose. You nearly came right then.
“You’re fucking crazy,” you gasped, tugging at his hair.
He pulled back, lips slick, eyes heavy. “And you taste like my new favorite snack.”
Then he stood again, chest glistening, tattoo curved under his armpit and disappearing down his side. His fingers slid back between your thighs, rubbing lazy, wet circles as he leaned over you.
“You like the ink?” he asked, biting at your jaw.
You nodded frantically. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know you had them—”
He grinned and brought your hand to his chest. “Wanna trace them with your tongue next time?”
You whimpered.
“You’re gonna. But right now—” He lined up again. “I need to feel you come on my cock.”
Then he thrust in deep.
You cried out, eyes rolling back.
He didn’t stop. Just kept fucking into you without caring if the table was built for it.
The pace built…deep, relentless. His hand found your throat, grabbing possessively. His other gripped your ass, pulling you to the edge as he rammed into you with purpose.
“You hear that?” he growled. “That wet little sound you’re making every time I sink in?”
You whined.
“I could come just from hearing it.”
Your nails dug into his shoulders. His skin was warm, the tattoo under your other palm shifting with every thrust. You wanted to lick it. Brand yourself with it. Be marked in all the places no one else would see.
“I can’t—I’m gonna—”
“I know,” he rasped. “Come for me.”
And you did—hard—body arching, mouth open in a silent scream as everything inside you snapped.
He followed seconds later, pulling out with a sharp grunt, spilling hot across your belly.
Both of you stood there, panting. Wrecked. His cum glistening on your skin, his ink glistening with sweat. You stared at him like he was carved from the same sin you’d spent your whole life suppressing.
Then— Rattle. The doorknob turned.
“Shit,” you hissed, scrambling for your blouse.
Jisung just smirked.
“Guess we’re staying locked in a little longer.”
After cleaning your belly with a napkin and quickly throwing your clothes back on, you stood with your back against the door, still catching your breath as the silence settled thick around you. Your legs felt unsteady, like the table was still rocking beneath you. Jisung hadn’t said much, he’d just kissed you once, slow and deep, as if to imprint the taste of you in his mouth.
Then he tucked himself back into his jeans with the kind of swagger that only came from knowing he’d just fucked the librarian senseless on a dusty table.
At least this time, you gave him your number. He’d laughed when you scribbled it on a sticky note meant for late returns. Still, he folded it like it carefully, slid it into his wallet without making a joke. Just a look that lingered.
“You gonna be okay?” he’d asked before unlocking the door.
You’d nodded, trying not to look too flustered or too undone, trying to forget you’d dropped to your knees for him less than thirty minutes ago.
Now, as you stepped back into the main library, the cool air prickled your flushed skin. You smoothed down your skirt, tucked your blouse back into your waistband with shaking hands. Your hair was—god, was it still a mess? Probably. You ran your fingers through it anyway.
He walked out just ahead of you. Calm. Casual. As if he hadn’t just rearranged your entire body chemistry.
“Dude, where the hell have you been?” one of his friends asked, loud and unfiltered.
“We thought you dipped.”
Jisung didn’t miss a beat. Just turned slightly, tossed them a shrug and then, over his shoulder, locked eyes with you. A small, private smile curved his mouth. And then came the wink.
Bastard.
You cleared your throat and moved toward the desk like everything was normal, like your panties weren’t somewhere in the back room inside-out, like your thighs weren’t still trembling. You didn’t look at him again but your pulse thrummed.
From the corner of your eye, you caught it.
The most subtle gesture. Two fingers to his ear. A slow, lazy salute. I’ll call you. And just like that, he was gone.
The door closed behind him. But the heat he left in your body? The ache between your legs?
Yeah, that wasn’t going anywhere.
Not anytime soon.
Authors note: Hiiii! So like i said before, I’ve been pretty busy with real life stuff 😭 and I told you guys sometime before that I had started writing ab original novel 🥹🫣, yeah thats been keeping me busy too.
So anyway, hope you enjoyed this highly inappropriate Jisung fic lol 😆 cos i did.
Lastly to the anon in my DMs hating, the challenge is still on boo! Don’t forget to tag me.
You’re practically purring as he lays you down on his bed, letting him arrange your body with that pliant, yielding flexibility that only comes after multiple orgasms. He’s fully focused on being gentle now, after seeing how rough Seungmin was being with you.
Chan winces internally as he spreads your legs for him, seeing how red and swollen you are from all that relentless pounding.
He doesn’t even have to think about it. He just dips his head and puts his mouth on you, lapping at you with the flat of his tongue, soothing your folds as you whimper. Kissing you better.
Trying not to bust a nut when you tangle your fingers in his hair and whimper his name.
He was worried you might be too tired and overstimulated to take him, but those thoughts evaporate with the way you’re begging for him to be inside you after only a few minutes of him licking you out. He’s so eager to be inside you now, he just might burst.
But he’s got to take care of you first, gotta make sure you’re not too sore for his cock.
So he gives you a finger, just the one, slipping into you agonisingly slow. When the bump of that first knuckle makes you wince he tries to pull out again, not wanting to hurt you and silently cussing Seungmin out for going too hard on you.
He is not prepared for you to grab his wrist and pull him closer, both of you crying out– him in surprise, you in pleasure-pain– as you take the digit deep.
“Babygirl…” His voice is low and tight, barely more than a wheeze as he tries to control himself. “You’re going to hurt yourself…”
“Channie~”
Oh fuck.
He can’t resist it when you whine like that. Even less when when you pump your hips desperately, fucking yourself on him. You’re all puffy and swollen inside, clinging to him so tightly he can feel his pulse in his fingertip…
He nearly nuts imagining how good you would feel around his cock.
But tight as his pants are, Chan is a considerate lover. And no matter how much you beg for him to hurry up, he’s going to prepare you first.
It’s a good twenty minutes before he’s satisfied that you can take him. Twenty minutes of gentle tonguing and soft fingering– first one, then two, then three as he carefully stretches you out.
Twenty minutes of Chan ignoring the voices in his head screaming at him just to take you already.
Twenty minutes of pleasure without release, twenty minutes of begging him to make you cum, twenty minutes of Chan gently reminding you that if he does make you cum now you’ll be too overstimulated to take him properly. That solves your begging, at least for a while.
You try to be patient. You really do. But Chan is being so careful and so gentle, and making you feel so loved that it’s driving you insane. He’s breaking down all your inhibitions, and in turn you almost break him when you start to beg for something he’s never let himself wish for.
“Channie, breed me.”
He freezes.
His brain stops.
His balls almost explode.
Breed you?
It’s his ultimate fantasy. His one true weakness. The amount of times he's dreamt about it, about taking you raw and fucking you full of him. Filling you with his seed, again and again, until you're all round and pregnant and pretty with his baby. Babies.
Fuck, he wants to get you pregnant so badly. He wants to lay in his bed with you in his arms and dick deep inside you, cockwarming you to sleep with his hand on your growing belly.
And, oh god, you're ovulating. It would take…
And just to be sure it took, he'd give it to you again and again until it did. And then he’d give you more.
Until his balls were fully drained and the sheets beneath you soaked, a mix of both your juices sticky over your thighs and his belly, his cum leaking from your pounded out pussy. The way you'd whimper when he'd gently finger it back inside you, scooping it up and massaging your clit with it, making you cry with overstimulation just to make you cum again with his seed slicked fingers…
He's having visions of little versions of the both of you running around with the perfect mix of your smile with his dimples when he feels your hand on his dick, the way you’re trying to line him up with you snapping him out of fantasy land.
“Channie, breed me. Please.”
He wants to.
Oh fuck, he wants to so badly.
But he can’t.
Not right now. You’re not thinking clearly with your hormone addled, multiple-orgasm-muddled brain. So Chan takes a deep breath, gives himself a shake, and squashes thoughts of knocking you up. For now.
Instead he gently pulls his fingers out of you, kissing his way up your torso until he’s laying beside you, cuddling you into his chest with one arm while he reaches for the condom box with the other. You whine as he tugs one out, weakly trying to slap it out of his hand.
If Chan’s dick gets any harder it could cause permanent damage.
“Not yet, baby.” He murmurs softly, gently laying you on your back and kissing the tears off your cheeks. “Not yet. But,” he kisses your lips again, a little harder this time as he rolls on a condom and settles between your thighs, “we can practice.”
He’s not sure which one of you moans louder as he pushes inside you. Even after all of his gentle prep it’s still a tight fit with your pussy already clenching around him as he sinks deeper. He’s trying to go slow, trying to go hold back, but you’re already bucking against him, your vice grip making him hiss.
“Baby, please. You’ve gotta slow down.” He leans his forehead into your shoulder, breathing deeply, concentrating on not busting a nut when you jerk your hips enough that he finally bottoms out. You don’t listen, already a moaning mess as you grind against him with your legs wrapped practically around his waist.
“Channie, please.” He can tell you’re already close from the way you start to beg for it harder and Chan’s not sure how much longer he can resist your pleading as you squeeze your legs tighter around him, using them for leverage as you fuck yourself on his cock. And then you say the magic words again.
“Wreck me Channie. I need you.”
Your voice is softer this time and he swears his heart stops when you take his face in your hands and kiss him gently, holding him like he’s made of the most delicate glass. It’s a strange and overwhelming dichotomy, this tender kiss among the jerky, desperate thrusting. He’s not even sure who’s doing it now, his body possessed with something feral and completely beyond his control as his hips start to snap.
That gentle kiss quickly morphs into something needier, something matching the wet slapping sounds of skin on skin as he finally gives in and starts giving it to you the way you crave it: harder, rougher, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he pulls you down the bed and lifting your legs over your shoulders.
The noise you make when he finally pins you in that mating press… one day he’ll record it.
He’ll hide it in the layers of every song, matching it to the bass beat when he remixes Railway. He’ll set it as his alarm, so he’s got something to jerk his morning wood to every day he wakes up alone. He’ll loop it and listen to it on repeat when he’s on tour, driving himself nuts on the way flight back to you, ready to pick you up and fuck you against the nearest surface the moment he gets you alone.
But right now he’s getting it live, in the little wanton gasps escaping from behind the hand you clasped over your mouth. He quickly pulls it away, smothering your moans with his mouth as he starts to pound you harder.
“This how you wanted it?” He barely recognises his own voice, the words coming out in desperate pants as his hips snap harder, your legs pressing into his shoulders, folding you in half. “Rough? Deep? Wanted to make me fall apart?”
“Don’t want it.” The tears in your eyes make him freeze mid-thrust, terrified he’s pushed you too far. And then you fix it all with just two words. “Want you.”
That does it. All restraint gone, he pounds into you with a few more desperate thrusts before cumming so hard he’s worried it’ll break the condom. And it just doesn’t stop. Not when your orgasm hits too, pussy stuttering and clenching around him and your nails digging into his back, his name a mantra on your tongue as the pleasure drives you mad.
He’s not sure how long you two are lost, writhing against each other like broken snakes, only breaking away from each other for a second when he lowers your legs, needing to feel you closer. Just kissing and moaning each other's names as you wait for the blinding lust to fade.
And when it does… fuck.
You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen–flushed and sweaty and panting, gazing up at him with flushed skin and a kiss bruised mouth. He brushes a few stray tears left on your cheeks, pressing a shaky kiss to your forehead and wondering how it’s possible to love someone so much.
The condom didn’t break, thankfully. Though his dick twitches when he sees your disappointed pout.
“You really weren’t kidding about the breeding thing, huh.” He murmurs, pulling you into his chest for a cuddle. You murmur something, but it’s too faint for him to hear as your breathing smoothes out into sleep.
He lies awake for a long time after, just watching you sleep. All safe and snug in his arms, satiated and satisfied. For now at least.
Ovulation really is no joke.
I hate this 😅 but it's been sitting in my drafts and no matter what I do to it I can't make it better. You can see what I mean about the tonal shift from part one right? Urgh Sorry gang, it's the best I could do rn.
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