synopsis, You were a florist, and he was an artist. The art of delicately placing floral, but spiky stems and drawing lines creating life had its similarities. One day, your worlds inevitably collided. He left a thorn in your mind. While you left an imprint on him, like a tattoo.
word count, 6092
Flowers were always your favorite. As a child, you always knew you wanted to become a florist when you grew up.
Your favorite part was seeing people come in with question marks above their heads, wondering which species of flower would make their lover the happiest. You always thought it was the silliest thing to be worried about, knowing no matter what, it’d bring joy and light into their eyes. You always imagined them bringing the bouquet up to their noses and closing their eyes in delight from the soft scent.
Despite it all, you’ve never once received flowers from a lover. Even with your love and passion for the botanical side of life, it was always brought to you from sadness, from loss. It was always a bittersweet relationship, from the memories associated with floral arrangements and the sight of them wilting, knowing it meant it was time to let go. There was sadness in watching beauty wilt away despite the care and sunlight that you tried your best to provide. Maybe it was because you were always conditioned to temporary. You just wanted one thing to stay, to be a permanent mark in your life. One that doesn’t just live in your memories but exists in the flesh and is there to stay with you, till death do you part. That’s why you always steered away from relationships, as it seemed like everyone around you was living for the temporary kind of love.
The sound of the doorbell tinkling caused you to divert your attention from the noisy but harmonious bouquet in front of you to a broad and muscular figure. You couldn’t quite see his face as his back was turned against you, appreciating the other arrangements and taking in their scents. You stood on your tippy toes, desperate to catch a clearer and fuller view as he squatted down to admire the lower shelves. You caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck, a delicate lily with soft, flowy lines connected to it. You smiled softly to yourself.
Lost in admiration towards the artwork engraved on him, you stumbled slightly in haste as he got up suddenly and turned towards you, holding a pink and yellow arrangement. Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment as you wondered if he saw you staring at him, rather obviously. He had shorter black hair that was styled, plush pink lips that looked rather soft, and piercing eyes that had you hypnotized. You were woken out of your trance as he approached the counter, placing the vase of lilies on the counter, brushing the glass like it was something delicate. How fitting.
“These fresh?” he asked, nodding to the lilies.
“I picked them up this morning,” you replied, tapping the side of the glass. “Some of them are still blooming, but they should open up in a day or two.”
“Good,” he responded with a slight smile. “I like watching them change.”
You smile, looking up at him. He was staring at you with a smile on his face. You shot your head down to the register and keyed in the price. You applied your employee discount.
“It’ll be $29.95,” you spoke softly as he pulled his card out towards you. “Is this your first time here?”
“Yeah, I’ve walked by a few times, so I thought I’d finally come in.”
You smiled politely, “Well.. welcome. Good choice–lilies are kind of underrated.”
He looked at them, and back at you once again, tugging a smile at your response. “I like the shape, they just speak to me…you know? They’re not loud about being pretty.”
You held out his card and receipt. His fingers brushed yours, causing you to heat up again. As he craned his neck to the side to stuff the receipt in his pocket, you got a glimpse of his tattoo once more. You didn’t want him to leave; you wanted him to stay a tad longer.
“Did you draw that yourself?” You asked, nudging towards the tattoo.
His gaze followed yours, and he soon figured you were alluding to the flower on his neck.
“Mhm. Hate seeing them wilt, so I got something permanent.” He grabbed the bouquet and gave a small nod. “See you around.”
You didn't answer right away–you just watched him go. The doorbell chimed softly, and your shop felt a little too quiet again as he left you with that response. A response that resonated with you, one that you felt in your veins.
–
The day went by rather slowly. You sighed as you closed up the shop, tugging the door to ensure it was secured for the night. You pulled your arms through the sleeves of your jacket and zipped it up as you started your walk home. You heard a muted buzzing coming from the new tattoo shop a few blocks away from your shop. Your attention gets caught by the familiar pink and yellow lily arrangement placed by the window of the tattoo shop. You stopped in your tracks and looked in the window, hoping to see the man once more.
There he was, his tattoo on display. He was hunched over someone, tattooing the back of their leg. You lingered for a moment more, half-hidden by the dim glow of the streetlamp illuminating behind you. He hadn’t noticed you, but a part of you wished he did. You watched as his hands moved with precision, analyzing his work at different angles and wiping the excess ink off.
Your fingers grasped onto the hem of your jacket. It was silly, really. You didn’t know him at all. It was one short conversation and a glance at his tattoo–it wasn’t supposed to linger like this.
You shook your head, more at yourself than anything else.
With one last look at the lilies displayed by the window, you turned away and kept walking.
The streets were quiet as the streetlights flickered overhead. You tucked your chin into your jacket and picked up your pace, not because you were cold, but because you didn’t want to think anymore. You weren’t one to fall for romance.
When you finally reached your apartment, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The air inside was warmer, softer. Still, the silence pressed in a little too close, making it suffocating.
You turned on the kettle. Water. Tea. Something simple. You weren’t going to keep thinking about a stranger more than you should, not again.
Still…
Those lilies in the window. You wonder if he took them home. A part of you hoped he did because even if you were nothing significant in his life, a part of you would be in his space. You shook the thought off and went to wash your hands. Tomorrow was another day. Another bouquet. New customers to please.
Maybe this one wouldn’t linger so much.
–
The city felt quieter than usual. The sky above was that in-between color, somewhere between a lavender hue and a tint of rust, just as if it couldn’t decide if the sun was rising or setting. You walked alone and passed by the tattoo shop once more. This time your feet didn’t just stop in front of it, you walked in past the counter and straight to the man.
He stood up and approached you, closer and closer. You wanted him more than anything, and you knew he did, too. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a soft but passionate kiss. His hands began to roam around your body, and yours to his tousled hair. It was just long enough to grab to pull him in closer, into a deeper kiss. A kiss that made you hungry to merge your bodies into one.
He broke the kiss and spoke, “I need yo–”
BZZZ BZZZ.
Your alarm sucked you out of your dream state, and you shot up out of your bed, hair disheveled. You went to bed rather early that night to escape the thought of a stranger; instead, you found yourself having dirty thoughts about him.
—
You got ready like normal, however, finding yourself reminiscing over the man you spent your night dreaming of.
You pulled your hair back after you shrugged your jacket on and shoved your keys into your bag. The dream clung to you in pieces–not sharp enough to hurt, but strange enough to stay. You tried not to think about it as you unlocked the front door of the shop and stepped inside for the day.
You found yourself hoping it was him every time the doorbell chimed, but it was never him.
Customers came and went. You focused on trimming leaves and shortening the stems to make new arrangements. You even hummed a little–something soft and unforgettable–until the bell above the door rang once more.
“Welcom–” You began to say due to routine, then you looked up.
It was him. Same jacket, the same walk. But this time he didn’t browse, he came straight to the counter, pulling something from his pocket.
“Morning,” he said, setting the crumpled receipt between you. “I think you undercharged me yesterday.”
You blinked. “I don’t think I did.” You said knowing it was from the discount you snuck in.
“You charged me for nine stems, but there were ten. I counted…twice.”
You looked at him, impressed. “You really came all the way back here for one stem?”
He shrugged, not smug–just matter-of-fact. “Felt weird not saying something.”
You hesitated, unsure how to make a proper excuse, then shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Consider it a thank-you for giving the lilies a new home.”
He didn’t move. “Can’t let it slide. I have a conscience.”
He was persistent and honest, and you liked that.
“That sounds like a personal problem,” you said, trying not to smile.
There was a pause.
“What if I paid for it in coffee?”
You raised an eyebrow as your heartbeat also did the same. “Coffee?”
“Mhm, you and me. Somewhere that doesn’t smell like soil.”
You stared at him for a moment, unsure if he was being serious. And he was. You could tell–it was in the way his voice didn’t rush the words, didn’t wrap them in charm. Just a pure offer.
You leaned slightly on the counter. “That’s not how pricing works, you know.”
“Sure it is,” he said, finally cracking a smile. “One lily, one drink. Fair trade, no?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, considering. “Okay, maybe…I’ll think about it,” you said.
He nodded, backing towards the door. “I’ll be around.”
The bell jingled as he left. You stood there, heart ticking just a little faster, pretending to re-stack the business cards on the counter.
The dream was almost faded now, almost.
–
The evening crept in. You swept the floor, wiped down the counter, and watered the few leftover arrangements you hadn’t sold. You left one lily in the vase on the shelf, without really thinking about it. You told yourself it was for the ambiance, not because of him.
The street was quiet when you stepped out, locking the door behind you. The lights in the tattoo parlor were still on.
You told yourself you weren’t going to look, that you were going to walk right past and keep moving.
You looked anyway.
He was there again. Still working. He sat hunched over his chair, gloves on, focused, his arm moving in that same steady rhythm. Then, like he felt it, his head turned toward the window.
His eyes met yours.
You froze.
He stood, said something to whoever was inside, and jogged toward the front. By the time you reached the sidewalk outside the shop, he was already slipping out the door.
“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “What’s your answer now? I never really got one earlier.”
You blinked. “I figured ‘maybe’ was an answer.”
“Not a good one,” he said, squinting slightly against the light. “I was hoping you’d reconsider.”
You glanced up at the sky, then back at him. “It’s late, especially for coffee.”
“I know,” he said, but didn’t move. “But there’s a garden not far from here. Ten-minute walk. It’s open late. Not many people. You’d like it.”
You hesitated. He could see it–the way your fingers fidgeted with the zipper of your jacket, the way your weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other.
“You’re going to drag me into a garden over one flower,” you finally said, eyes narrowing just slightly.
He grinned. “Then come see a hundred more. Just for a little while.”
You exhaled, unsure whether it was a sigh or a laugh. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“I tattoo people for a living. I have patience.”
A beat.
“Fine,” you said quietly. “But if it’s weird, I’m leaving.”
“Fair enough. But what is weird is I never caught your name. Mine's Hyunjin.”
“I’m Y/N,” You responded.
He smiles—not cocky, not overconfident, just… warm.
You tilted your head.
“You’ve still got someone in there.”
He glanced back at the shop, then at you. “Yeah. Shouldn’t take much longer. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”
You nodded, expecting him to say goodnight. Instead, he hesitated.
“…You can come in. If you want.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “If you’re not in a rush.”
You weren’t. Or maybe you were–but not away from him.
He stepped aside and pushed the door open, holding it as you walked past.
The tattoo parlor was warmer than you expected, lit by amber bulbs and the low hum of music playing from an old speaker in the corner. It smelled like ink and disinfectant and something faintly herbal–not unpleasant. Clean. Lived-in.
The client was lying on the table, earbuds in, watching something on their phone. They gave you a polite nod and turned back to their screen. Hyunjin pulled his gloves back on and glanced at you once more.
“You okay with needles?” he asked, already picking up the machine again.
You gave a quiet smile. “I work with thorns. I’ll survive.”
That got a grin out of him.
You settled into the worn armchair in the corner, tucking your hands into your sleeves. You hadn’t planned to stay. You definitely hadn’t planned to watch.
But you did.
His hands moved with focus, slow and precise. There was a steadiness to him here that wasn’t obvious before–a kind of calm that only comes from doing something you know better than your own skin. It made you think of the dream again, the way his hands grabbed your waist, the warmth that emanated from it.
You watched the lines take shape, the ink sinking into skin. It was quiet except for the buzz of the needle and the occasional shifting of his chair. No small talk. No performance.
Just him. Working.
There was something intimate about it. Not romantic–not exactly–but private, in a way that made you feel like you were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be… but had been invited in anyway.
At some point, he glanced over at you, just once, then went back to the piece.
You didn’t look away.
–
Time passed without you noticing.
By the time the client stood, stretching their legs and thanking him, you were still curled into the same seat, arms folded loosely across your chest. You only realized how long it had been when you checked the clock on the wall–and even then, you didn’t mind.
He stripped off his gloves, disposed of them, and cleaned up with practiced efficiency. Neither of you said much. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward–it just existed, comfortably, like a warm coat.
When the last light clicked off and the front door shut behind you both, the city had softened into full night.
He locked the door behind him, sliding the key into his pocket. Then he glanced at you with a half-smile, like this part hadn’t been planned but somehow still felt inevitable.
“You still up for that walk?”
You nodded. “Lead the way.”
He didn’t offer his arm, and you didn’t step too close–but you matched each other’s pace as if it came naturally. Streetlights passed over you in amber streaks. The sounds of the city were muted this late–a car passing now and then, distant music from a rooftop you couldn’t see.
You didn’t talk at first. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looked up at the sky like he was trying to find stars behind the haze. You stole a glance at his profile, sharp in the low light. Focused, thoughtful, like he was somewhere else for a moment.
Then he spoke.
“You always walk home?”
“Usually.”
“Same route?”
You nodded. “Mostly.”
“Guess that makes me lucky twice now.”
You rolled your eyes softly, but didn’t disagree.
He led you off the main road, down a side street you hadn’t paid much attention to before. The garden wasn’t far, just tucked behind a rusted gate and a short stone wall. There was a narrow path winding through it, surrounded by low, flowering bushes and taller trees strung with tiny lights. Most of the city passed it by without even noticing.
You stopped just inside the entrance.
“I’ve walked past this place a hundred times,” you said. “Never knew it was open at night.”
“It isn’t,” he replied. “Technically.”
You raised an eyebrow. “So we’re trespassing.”
He shrugged. “A little.”
But you stepped further in anyway.
You followed him along the narrow path, your shoes crunching softly over gravel. The trees overhead swayed just enough to rustle. The lights strung between their branches cast soft halos that wobbled in the breeze–not quite enough to see clearly, but just enough to feel like the world had slowed down.
“Do you come here often?” you asked, half-teasing.
“Sometimes. When I don’t feel like going home.”
You nodded. That made sense. It felt like the kind of place someone would go to be alone with their thoughts. To sort through them. Or ignore them entirely.
“I used to come to places like this with my mom,” you said before you could stop yourself.
He looked over at you, but didn’t interrupt.
“She always liked naming flowers by sight. Like it was a game. She’d test me on them, too–called it a pop quiz.”
You smiled faintly, watching your feet.
“I always remembered the hard ones. The ones people don’t usually pick for bouquets. The weird little ones that grow near fences. She said they were the ones with stories.”
He was quiet for a moment, letting your words settle.
“What about lilies?” he asked.
You shrugged. “She thought they were dramatic. Pretty, but always saying too much.”
He huffed a soft laugh, then looked at the path ahead.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a beat.
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment?”
“Definitely,” he replied. “But I haven’t figured out why yet.”
The path opened up to a small clearing with a bench tucked beneath a tree. You sat, careful not to shift too close, your hands curled into your jacket sleeves.
He didn’t sit right away. Just stood near you, watching the lights sway above.
“Did you really come back to the shop just because of the undercharged lilies?” you asked, without looking at him.
There was a pause.
“No, I liked the way you talked about the lilies,” he said. “Like you knew them. Made me want to hear more from you.”
You didn’t say anything. Just stared down at your hands.
He finally sat beside you, not quite touching, not quite distant.
The air smelled faintly of earth and something sweet–honeysuckle, maybe. The city felt far away here. Like it didn’t matter.
You stayed like that for a while. Not saying much. Just enjoying one another.
–
It became routine before either of you admitted it.
Some nights, he’d show up at your shop just as you were locking up. Other times, you’d pass by the tattoo studio and find him already outside, leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed, pretending not to wait for you.
No words needed–just a glance, a nod, a silent agreement.
The garden again.
The first few nights, you kept your distance. Walked side by side but not too close. Talked in short exchanges–flowers, clients, tattoos, weather. Safe topics. The kind you could walk away from without consequence.
But slowly, things shifted.
One evening, he brought two paper cups of tea from the bodega down the block. He didn’t ask what you liked–just handed you one. It was perfect. You didn’t ask how he knew.
Another night, you told him about the first bouquet you ever arranged. He listened quietly, only interrupting once to ask what kind of ribbon you used. He remembered it days later.
Sometimes he’d talk about a design he couldn’t get right. About the way certain clients never sat still. Once, he mentioned the first tattoo he ever gave–on himself. You didn’t ask to see it, but he showed you anyway, pulling back his sleeve in the soft garden light. It was simple. A little shaky. But honest.
Some nights, you talked. Other nights, you didn’t need to.
You’d sit on the same bench, maybe a little closer each time. At some point, your legs brushed, and neither of you moved. At some point after that, he stopped pretending to yawn when he leaned his shoulder lightly into yours.
One night, it rained–just a light drizzle–but you still walked together. Sat under the tree, jackets zipped up, water dripping from the leaves above. You didn’t even bother with umbrellas.
You laughed more. He smiled more.
Everything stayed small. Gentle. But it was undeniable.
The garden changed too, subtly. New blooms came in, just like your newfound relationship with Hyunjin. The air shifted from summer warmth to the first whisper of autumn. You noticed that he always walked on the street side of the sidewalk. He noticed you always carried hand cream and used it when your fingers got stiff from the cold.
It was nothing. It was everything. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t not, either.
And neither of you said anything about what it was. Because naming it might ruin it. And right now–this routine, this quiet rhythm–it was enough. You didn’t want this to be temporary, so maybe leaving it nameless would keep this routine around a bit longer.
–
It started with a skipped night.
You didn’t text. You didn’t walk past the studio. You just… went home.
You told yourself you were tired. That it was nothing. That missing one evening wasn’t strange.
But then it happened again.
And again.
You started closing the shop a little earlier, taking a different route home. On purpose. You kept your head down when you passed the tattoo parlor from the other side of the block, pretending not to notice if the lights were still on. Pretending you weren’t wondering if he was waiting.
You told yourself it was better this way.
That whatever this was had gone too far. That letting it keep going meant something real, and something real meant something to lose. Something that might end up like all the bouquets you’d ever loved: beautiful, fleeting, wilting too soon.
So you cut it short before it could bloom.
You told yourself it wasn’t cruel–that he’d move on, forget the routine, chalk it up to timing.
But he didn’t.
–
He showed up at the shop three days after you vanished from your own pattern, just as you were wiping down the counter. You startled when the bell above the door rang; the sound felt too loud.
He stood there in his usual jacket, hair slightly damp from the light drizzle outside, a crease in his brow that didn’t go away when he saw you.
“Hey,” he said.
You froze for half a second too long. Then forced a smile. “Hey.”
He looked around like he was checking to make sure the world hadn’t shifted. “I thought maybe you’d been sick.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “Then I thought maybe something happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
He paused. The silence stretched.
“…Then what is it?”
You turned back to the counter, suddenly busy with the same cloth you’d already wiped it with twice.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been–”
What? Busy? Tired? Cold? “—tired, I guess.”
You didn’t look up, but you could feel his eyes on you.
“Tired of the garden?”
The words were gentle, not accusing. That made them worse.
You shook your head. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it a thing.”
There was a beat.
“It was a thing,” he said quietly.
You closed your eyes.
“I just needed some space,” you muttered, wishing he would let it go. Wishing he wouldn’t. “I didn’t mean to–”
“To what?”
“Lead you on,” you said, and it came out sharper than intended. Too final.
He nodded once, jaw flexing, then looked down at his hands.
“I didn’t think you were,” he said. “I just liked being around you.”
That silence came back, thick and tight in your chest.
He turned to leave, but hesitated at the door.
“If you change your mind,” he said, voice low, “you know where to find me.”
Then he was gone.
And you were left in the quiet. Wishing he hadn’t understood so well.
–
The apartment felt colder than usual when you got home.
You turned the lights on, then off again. Sat on the couch, stood up. Wandered into the kitchen just to stand there, palms pressed against the countertop.
Your jacket was still on.
You weren’t tired–not really. Not in the way you told him you were.
You’d just been scared. And now you were even more scared because it was your fault this time. You were the one who turned something soft into something sharp.
You sat back down and stared at your phone. Your fingers hovered above the screen.
You’d told yourself he would walk away. That he’d get tired of waiting. But he didn’t. He waited. He cared. And you turned away first.
You curled up tighter, knees to your chest, eyes unfocused.
What if this wasn’t temporary?
What if it didn’t wilt? What if this was the one thing that stayed?
You didn’t realize you were crying until the sound of a quiet sob broke into the stillness of the room. You wiped your face fast, like it might undo what had already happened. As if shame could make it disappear.
But the ache didn’t go away. It bloomed.
Your hand trembled slightly as you unlocked your phone. You didn’t think–you just hit his name.
It rang twice. You nearly hung up.
Then—
“...Hello?”
His voice was quieter than usual. Careful.
You froze, breath caught in your throat.
“I’m sorry,” you blurted. “I—I lied.”
A pause.
You swallowed. “I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t busy. I was just scared.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
You closed your eyes. “I’ve never had anything good stay, and I think I thought if I walked away first, it wouldn’t get the chance to leave me.” You were rambling now. Unraveling.
“But I miss you. I miss the garden. I miss you being around like it meant something, even if we didn’t say it out loud. I’m sorry I pushed you away. It was a thing. And I think… I think I wanted it to be.”
The line went silent. You could hear your own breath stutter.
Then: “Are you home right now?”
Your heart jumped. “Yeah.”
“Don’t go to sleep,” he said. “I’m coming over.”
–
You didn’t change out of your clothes. Didn’t try to fix your face. You just paced the living room, arms folded tight across your chest, staring out the window even though you couldn’t see much beyond the reflection.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
Then the headlights swept across your wall, and you froze. You opened the door before he could knock.
He stood there in a hoodie and joggers, damp from the rain that had started to fall again. His hair was tousled. His eyes — tired, but soft. Neither of you said anything at first. He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. You stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in. He took off his shoes by the door and looked around like he was entering a new world.
It was only when you closed the door behind him that you whispered, “I didn’t think you’d come.”
He glanced back at you. “I told you where to find me. I was hoping you’d come find me, you know. You were on my mind and I just–you’re engraved in my head Y/N, I can’t get you out no matter how hard I try.”
That ache bloomed in your chest again. Warm this time. You moved slowly, sitting down on the couch. He sat next to you, close enough that your knees almost brushed. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It just… was. Eventually, he spoke. Quietly.
“You don’t have to explain it all tonight.”
You turned to look at him.
“But I want to,” you said.
He nodded.
You shifted, folding your legs underneath you. “I meant what I said. About being scared. I ruin things before they can leave me, because it hurts less that way. At least it’s my decision.”
He was watching you. Fully present. “But this wasn’t just a thing to ruin.”
You looked down. “I know. That’s what made it worse.”
Silence again — but this time, he reached out. Slowly, gently. His hand settled over yours.
You looked at it, then at him.
He didn’t push. He just held on.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all week.
“I don’t want to be scared anymore, Hyunjin.” You said, lifting your head to trace the flower on his neck.
“We can learn together, I’ll help you.”
The world didn’t shift. It didn’t explode. But it softened. Like new petals unfolding in the dark.
–
Time started folding in on itself after that night.
There wasn’t a single moment where everything changed–just small, warm ones strung together like fairy lights.
He started coming over more. You’d find him at your kitchen counter chopping vegetables while you finished closing the shop. He hummed to himself, sometimes badly, and wore one of your aprons even though it was a little too small. You pretended not to notice the way it made your stomach flutter.
One night, you burnt the rice. You blamed the stove. He blamed the way you got distracted when he smiled at you. You didn’t argue.
—
You drew flowers on his arm in Sharpie while he watched TV with one hand tucked under his cheek.
“You missed your calling,” he mumbled.
“Nah,” you replied. “I’m good at keeping things alive.”
He turned his head slightly to look at you. You pretended not to feel it. Not to want it.
—
You danced in the middle of your living room, barefoot, with music playing off-key from your speaker. He lifted you like nothing and twirled you around, and you told him he had two right feet.
“Better than having two right hands,” he teased, wiggling his tattooing fingers.
You gasped. “That’s rude.”
He only grinned and dipped you lower, kissing you.
—
In the garden, you no longer just sat. You’d lie down on the cool grass. He’d sketch something you couldn’t see. You braided flowers into his hair once as he’d grown it out since the first time you met. He let you.
You asked him, quietly, if he ever thought things like this could last.
He’d replied, without hesitation, “Why wouldn’t it?”
—
It wasn’t a big moment when he asked. Not some cinematic swell of music or grand speech.
You were sitting on your fire escape with him, sharing a carton of ice cream straight from the tub, legs touching. The city was glowing below like a secret.
He nudged you softly with his knee. “So…”
You looked over. He was nervous. For once.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about how we do all these things couples do… and I wanna keep doing them. With you. As your person. If you want.”
You blinked, heart warm and heavy all at once.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that okay? Can I be yours officially?”
You didn’t answer with words. You just kissed him. Slow, and sure, and certain. He grinned into it.
“Is that a yes?” he whispered.
You kissed him again. That was answer enough.
–
After watching the stars, you both went in, and he grabbed his keys, ready to head out. You frowned a bit.
“Could you maybe…stay the night?” you asked hesitantly.
He looked at you and smiled, lifting you up, and you wrapped your legs around him. Your faces were inches apart. Slowly, he broke the distance, and his lips met yours. Kissing him felt like the first time his plush lips met yours. They were as soft as they looked, and felt better than they did in the dream you had. The pace sped up, and you were aching for him. You saw the look in his eyes, and you knew he wanted it as bad as you did.
He carried you to the bedroom and placed you softly on the mattress. He looked down on you with a smirk, admiring you from that angle. You covered your face as you started heating up. He grabbed your hands and pinned them above you, crawling to hover over your body on the bed.
“Don’t cover that pretty face.” He said as he started kissing the tip of your nose, then your temples, and your lips. You kissed back, wanting to hold on longer. He then started to kiss down your body. Once he reached the band of your sweatpants, he pulled them down and kissed your clothed cunt. You let out soft moans. He kissed it more softly, reaching up to massage your breasts from under your shirt. You propped yourself up and took off your shirt, making him smirk at you. He began to suck on your nipples, making your back arch, and you let out a loud, sharp moan.
He lifted himself up from you, leaving a string of saliva. He took off his shirt, revealing his toned, muscular body that had you drooling and wanting more. You started tugging on his waistband, desperate and whining.
“I’m usually not this nice, but for you I am.” He got up to take off his jeans, and you saw the thick outline of his bulging cock begging to be released from his boxers. You palmed him through the fabric, and he left out soft moans, causing your cunt to pulse.
He slightly pulled down the band of his boxers, teasing you by palming himself.
He finally pulled it down, causing his thick cock to bounce towards himself. There was precum on it, and you were drooling for his cock at this point. He got back on top of you after seeing your face, so desperate and needy for him. He kissed your neck as he began to stretch you out. You moaned loudly, mewling as he entered you.
“You okay?” He asks softly, breathless from your tight cunt wrapping around him just as if you were made for him.
“Mhm…” You whined, unable to form any coherent sentence.
He began pumping his cock in and out of you. He wasn’t just fucking you, he was making sweet love to you with melodies of both your moans and gasps filling the room.
“Hyun…Mm so close..” You managed to breathe out.
He quickened his pace as his moaning and breathing got louder.
“Cum for me, hm? Let go for me.” He moans out.
And so you did, spewing out moans and whines of pleasure as he did too. Both of you are coming undone with the warmth wrapping around your stomachs, sealing the final moments with a kiss.
–-
It was a late afternoon in early spring when you finally asked.
You were lying on your back in the garden, head on his jacket, sunlight dappled through the branches above. He was next to you, sketchbook open on his chest, pencil resting behind his ear.
“What were you drawing that day?” you asked, voice soft, almost hesitant. “The first time we laid here.”
He turned his head toward you, blinking at the sky for a moment before smiling faintly. He flipped the sketchbook open and passed it to you, letting it land gently in your hands.
Your breath caught.
It was a lily. Pink and yellow–sketched in colored pencil, with delicate shading that made it look like it was blooming right off the page. There were soft lines connecting each petal, hints of motion, as if it were breathing. Alive.
You ran your fingers over the drawing like it might flutter under your touch.
You looked at him. “Can I have it?”
He blinked. “Have it?”
You nodded. “Tattoo it on me. Just like yours.”
There was a pause. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to make sure you meant it. That you weren’t asking on impulse. But you didn’t look away. So he didn’t argue.
—
Later, you sat in the chair at his studio, back exposed, hair tied up. He was quiet while he worked, focused in that way he always was when his hands were doing something that mattered.
It didn’t hurt as much as you expected.
Or maybe the warmth in your chest was louder than the sting of the needle.
When it was done, he wiped the skin clean and leaned back, eyes soft and steady as he looked at his work, at you.
“This one,” he murmured, fingertips ghosting just above your skin, “will never wilt.”
You turned to him, heart full. “Promise?”
He smiled, and this time, it reached every corner of him.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I promise.”
thank you for reading ❤︎
sorry for any mistakes, please let me know if you catch any!
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synopsis, You were a florist, and he was an artist. The art of delicately placing floral, but spiky stems and drawing lines creating life had its similarities. One day, your worlds inevitably collided. He left a thorn in your mind. While you left an imprint on him, like a tattoo.
word count, 6092
Flowers were always your favorite. As a child, you always knew you wanted to become a florist when you grew up.
Your favorite part was seeing people come in with question marks above their heads, wondering which species of flower would make their lover the happiest. You always thought it was the silliest thing to be worried about, knowing no matter what, it’d bring joy and light into their eyes. You always imagined them bringing the bouquet up to their noses and closing their eyes in delight from the soft scent.
Despite it all, you’ve never once received flowers from a lover. Even with your love and passion for the botanical side of life, it was always brought to you from sadness, from loss. It was always a bittersweet relationship, from the memories associated with floral arrangements and the sight of them wilting, knowing it meant it was time to let go. There was sadness in watching beauty wilt away despite the care and sunlight that you tried your best to provide. Maybe it was because you were always conditioned to temporary. You just wanted one thing to stay, to be a permanent mark in your life. One that doesn’t just live in your memories but exists in the flesh and is there to stay with you, till death do you part. That’s why you always steered away from relationships, as it seemed like everyone around you was living for the temporary kind of love.
—
The sound of the doorbell tinkling caused you to divert your attention from the noisy but harmonious bouquet in front of you to a broad and muscular figure. You couldn’t quite see his face as his back was turned against you, appreciating the other arrangements and taking in their scents. You stood on your tippy toes, desperate to catch a clearer and fuller view as he squatted down to admire the lower shelves. You caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck, a delicate lily with soft, flowy lines connected to it. You smiled softly to yourself.
Lost in admiration towards the artwork engraved on him, you stumbled slightly in haste as he got up suddenly and turned towards you, holding a pink and yellow arrangement. Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment as you wondered if he saw you staring at him, rather obviously. He had shorter black hair that was styled, plush pink lips that looked rather soft, and piercing eyes that had you hypnotized. You were woken out of your trance as he approached the counter, placing the vase of lilies on the counter, brushing the glass like it was something delicate. How fitting.
“These fresh?” he asked, nodding to the lilies.
“I picked them up this morning,” you replied, tapping the side of the glass. “Some of them are still blooming, but they should open up in a day or two.”
“Good,” he responded with a slight smile. “I like watching them change.”
You smile, looking up at him. He was staring at you with a smile on his face. You shot your head down to the register and keyed in the price. You applied your employee discount.
“It’ll be $29.95,” you spoke softly as he pulled his card out towards you. “Is this your first time here?”
“Yeah, I’ve walked by a few times, so I thought I’d finally come in.”
You smiled politely, “Well.. welcome. Good choice–lilies are kind of underrated.”
He looked at them, and back at you once again, tugging a smile at your response. “I like the shape, they just speak to me…you know? They’re not loud about being pretty.”
You held out his card and receipt. His fingers brushed yours, causing you to heat up again. As he craned his neck to the side to stuff the receipt in his pocket, you got a glimpse of his tattoo once more. You didn’t want him to leave; you wanted him to stay a tad longer.
“Did you draw that yourself?” You asked, nudging towards the tattoo.
His gaze followed yours, and he soon figured you were alluding to the flower on his neck.
“Mhm. Hate seeing them wilt, so I got something permanent.” He grabbed the bouquet and gave a small nod. “See you around.”
You didn't answer right away–you just watched him go. The doorbell chimed softly, and your shop felt a little too quiet again as he left you with that response. A response that resonated with you, one that you felt in your veins.
–
The day went by rather slowly. You sighed as you closed up the shop, tugging the door to ensure it was secured for the night. You pulled your arms through the sleeves of your jacket and zipped it up as you started your walk home. You heard a muted buzzing coming from the new tattoo shop a few blocks away from your shop. Your attention gets caught by the familiar pink and yellow lily arrangement placed by the window of the tattoo shop. You stopped in your tracks and looked in the window, hoping to see the man once more.
There he was, his tattoo on display. He was hunched over someone, tattooing the back of their leg. You lingered for a moment more, half-hidden by the dim glow of the streetlamp illuminating behind you. He hadn’t noticed you, but a part of you wished he did. You watched as his hands moved with precision, analyzing his work at different angles and wiping the excess ink off.
Your fingers grasped onto the hem of your jacket. It was silly, really. You didn’t know him at all. It was one short conversation and a glance at his tattoo–it wasn’t supposed to linger like this.
You shook your head, more at yourself than anything else.
With one last look at the lilies displayed by the window, you turned away and kept walking.
The streets were quiet as the streetlights flickered overhead. You tucked your chin into your jacket and picked up your pace, not because you were cold, but because you didn’t want to think anymore. You weren’t one to fall for romance.
When you finally reached your apartment, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The air inside was warmer, softer. Still, the silence pressed in a little too close, making it suffocating.
You turned on the kettle. Water. Tea. Something simple. You weren’t going to keep thinking about a stranger more than you should, not again.
Still…
Those lilies in the window. You wonder if he took them home. A part of you hoped he did because even if you were nothing significant in his life, a part of you would be in his space. You shook the thought off and went to wash your hands. Tomorrow was another day. Another bouquet. New customers to please.
Maybe this one wouldn’t linger so much.
–
The city felt quieter than usual. The sky above was that in-between color, somewhere between a lavender hue and a tint of rust, just as if it couldn’t decide if the sun was rising or setting. You walked alone and passed by the tattoo shop once more. This time your feet didn’t just stop in front of it, you walked in past the counter and straight to the man.
He stood up and approached you, closer and closer. You wanted him more than anything, and you knew he did, too. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into a soft but passionate kiss. His hands began to roam around your body, and yours to his tousled hair. It was just long enough to grab to pull him in closer, into a deeper kiss. A kiss that made you hungry to merge your bodies into one.
He broke the kiss and spoke, “I need yo–”
BZZZ BZZZ.
Your alarm sucked you out of your dream state, and you shot up out of your bed, hair disheveled. You went to bed rather early that night to escape the thought of a stranger; instead, you found yourself having dirty thoughts about him.
—
You got ready like normal, however, finding yourself reminiscing over the man you spent your night dreaming of.
You pulled your hair back after you shrugged your jacket on and shoved your keys into your bag. The dream clung to you in pieces–not sharp enough to hurt, but strange enough to stay. You tried not to think about it as you unlocked the front door of the shop and stepped inside for the day.
You found yourself hoping it was him every time the doorbell chimed, but it was never him.
Customers came and went. You focused on trimming leaves and shortening the stems to make new arrangements. You even hummed a little–something soft and unforgettable–until the bell above the door rang once more.
“Welcom–” You began to say due to routine, then you looked up.
It was him. Same jacket, the same walk. But this time he didn’t browse, he came straight to the counter, pulling something from his pocket.
“Morning,” he said, setting the crumpled receipt between you. “I think you undercharged me yesterday.”
You blinked. “I don’t think I did.” You said knowing it was from the discount you snuck in.
“You charged me for nine stems, but there were ten. I counted…twice.”
You looked at him, impressed. “You really came all the way back here for one stem?”
He shrugged, not smug–just matter-of-fact. “Felt weird not saying something.”
You hesitated, unsure how to make a proper excuse, then shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Consider it a thank-you for giving the lilies a new home.”
He didn’t move. “Can’t let it slide. I have a conscience.”
He was persistent and honest, and you liked that.
“That sounds like a personal problem,” you said, trying not to smile.
There was a pause.
“What if I paid for it in coffee?”
You raised an eyebrow as your heartbeat also did the same. “Coffee?”
“Mhm, you and me. Somewhere that doesn’t smell like soil.”
You stared at him for a moment, unsure if he was being serious. And he was. You could tell–it was in the way his voice didn’t rush the words, didn’t wrap them in charm. Just a pure offer.
You leaned slightly on the counter. “That’s not how pricing works, you know.”
“Sure it is,” he said, finally cracking a smile. “One lily, one drink. Fair trade, no?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, considering. “Okay, maybe…I’ll think about it,” you said.
He nodded, backing towards the door. “I’ll be around.”
The bell jingled as he left. You stood there, heart ticking just a little faster, pretending to re-stack the business cards on the counter.
The dream was almost faded now, almost.
–
The evening crept in. You swept the floor, wiped down the counter, and watered the few leftover arrangements you hadn’t sold. You left one lily in the vase on the shelf, without really thinking about it. You told yourself it was for the ambiance, not because of him.
The street was quiet when you stepped out, locking the door behind you. The lights in the tattoo parlor were still on.
You told yourself you weren’t going to look, that you were going to walk right past and keep moving.
You looked anyway.
He was there again. Still working. He sat hunched over his chair, gloves on, focused, his arm moving in that same steady rhythm. Then, like he felt it, his head turned toward the window.
His eyes met yours.
You froze.
He stood, said something to whoever was inside, and jogged toward the front. By the time you reached the sidewalk outside the shop, he was already slipping out the door.
“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “What’s your answer now? I never really got one earlier.”
You blinked. “I figured ‘maybe’ was an answer.”
“Not a good one,” he said, squinting slightly against the light. “I was hoping you’d reconsider.”
You glanced up at the sky, then back at him. “It’s late, especially for coffee.”
“I know,” he said, but didn’t move. “But there’s a garden not far from here. Ten-minute walk. It’s open late. Not many people. You’d like it.”
You hesitated. He could see it–the way your fingers fidgeted with the zipper of your jacket, the way your weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other.
“You’re going to drag me into a garden over one flower,” you finally said, eyes narrowing just slightly.
He grinned. “Then come see a hundred more. Just for a little while.”
You exhaled, unsure whether it was a sigh or a laugh. “You don’t give up easily, do you?”
“I tattoo people for a living. I have patience.”
A beat.
“Fine,” you said quietly. “But if it’s weird, I’m leaving.”
“Fair enough. But what is weird is I never caught your name. Mine's Hyunjin.”
“I’m Y/N,” You responded.
He smiles—not cocky, not overconfident, just… warm.
You tilted your head.
“You’ve still got someone in there.”
He glanced back at the shop, then at you. “Yeah. Shouldn’t take much longer. Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”
You nodded, expecting him to say goodnight. Instead, he hesitated.
“…You can come in. If you want.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “If you’re not in a rush.”
You weren’t. Or maybe you were–but not away from him.
He stepped aside and pushed the door open, holding it as you walked past.
The tattoo parlor was warmer than you expected, lit by amber bulbs and the low hum of music playing from an old speaker in the corner. It smelled like ink and disinfectant and something faintly herbal–not unpleasant. Clean. Lived-in.
The client was lying on the table, earbuds in, watching something on their phone. They gave you a polite nod and turned back to their screen. Hyunjin pulled his gloves back on and glanced at you once more.
“You okay with needles?” he asked, already picking up the machine again.
You gave a quiet smile. “I work with thorns. I’ll survive.”
That got a grin out of him.
You settled into the worn armchair in the corner, tucking your hands into your sleeves. You hadn’t planned to stay. You definitely hadn’t planned to watch.
But you did.
His hands moved with focus, slow and precise. There was a steadiness to him here that wasn’t obvious before–a kind of calm that only comes from doing something you know better than your own skin. It made you think of the dream again, the way his hands grabbed your waist, the warmth that emanated from it.
You watched the lines take shape, the ink sinking into skin. It was quiet except for the buzz of the needle and the occasional shifting of his chair. No small talk. No performance.
Just him. Working.
There was something intimate about it. Not romantic–not exactly–but private, in a way that made you feel like you were somewhere you weren’t supposed to be… but had been invited in anyway.
At some point, he glanced over at you, just once, then went back to the piece.
You didn’t look away.
–
Time passed without you noticing.
By the time the client stood, stretching their legs and thanking him, you were still curled into the same seat, arms folded loosely across your chest. You only realized how long it had been when you checked the clock on the wall–and even then, you didn’t mind.
He stripped off his gloves, disposed of them, and cleaned up with practiced efficiency. Neither of you said much. The quiet between you wasn’t awkward–it just existed, comfortably, like a warm coat.
When the last light clicked off and the front door shut behind you both, the city had softened into full night.
He locked the door behind him, sliding the key into his pocket. Then he glanced at you with a half-smile, like this part hadn’t been planned but somehow still felt inevitable.
“You still up for that walk?”
You nodded. “Lead the way.”
He didn’t offer his arm, and you didn’t step too close–but you matched each other’s pace as if it came naturally. Streetlights passed over you in amber streaks. The sounds of the city were muted this late–a car passing now and then, distant music from a rooftop you couldn’t see.
You didn’t talk at first. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, looked up at the sky like he was trying to find stars behind the haze. You stole a glance at his profile, sharp in the low light. Focused, thoughtful, like he was somewhere else for a moment.
Then he spoke.
“You always walk home?”
“Usually.”
“Same route?”
You nodded. “Mostly.”
“Guess that makes me lucky twice now.”
You rolled your eyes softly, but didn’t disagree.
He led you off the main road, down a side street you hadn’t paid much attention to before. The garden wasn’t far, just tucked behind a rusted gate and a short stone wall. There was a narrow path winding through it, surrounded by low, flowering bushes and taller trees strung with tiny lights. Most of the city passed it by without even noticing.
You stopped just inside the entrance.
“I’ve walked past this place a hundred times,” you said. “Never knew it was open at night.”
“It isn’t,” he replied. “Technically.”
You raised an eyebrow. “So we’re trespassing.”
He shrugged. “A little.”
But you stepped further in anyway.
You followed him along the narrow path, your shoes crunching softly over gravel. The trees overhead swayed just enough to rustle. The lights strung between their branches cast soft halos that wobbled in the breeze–not quite enough to see clearly, but just enough to feel like the world had slowed down.
“Do you come here often?” you asked, half-teasing.
“Sometimes. When I don’t feel like going home.”
You nodded. That made sense. It felt like the kind of place someone would go to be alone with their thoughts. To sort through them. Or ignore them entirely.
“I used to come to places like this with my mom,” you said before you could stop yourself.
He looked over at you, but didn’t interrupt.
“She always liked naming flowers by sight. Like it was a game. She’d test me on them, too–called it a pop quiz.”
You smiled faintly, watching your feet.
“I always remembered the hard ones. The ones people don’t usually pick for bouquets. The weird little ones that grow near fences. She said they were the ones with stories.”
He was quiet for a moment, letting your words settle.
“What about lilies?” he asked.
You shrugged. “She thought they were dramatic. Pretty, but always saying too much.”
He huffed a soft laugh, then looked at the path ahead.
“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a beat.
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment?”
“Definitely,” he replied. “But I haven’t figured out why yet.”
The path opened up to a small clearing with a bench tucked beneath a tree. You sat, careful not to shift too close, your hands curled into your jacket sleeves.
He didn’t sit right away. Just stood near you, watching the lights sway above.
“Did you really come back to the shop just because of the undercharged lilies?” you asked, without looking at him.
There was a pause.
“No, I liked the way you talked about the lilies,” he said. “Like you knew them. Made me want to hear more from you.”
You didn’t say anything. Just stared down at your hands.
He finally sat beside you, not quite touching, not quite distant.
The air smelled faintly of earth and something sweet–honeysuckle, maybe. The city felt far away here. Like it didn’t matter.
You stayed like that for a while. Not saying much. Just enjoying one another.
–
It became routine before either of you admitted it.
Some nights, he’d show up at your shop just as you were locking up. Other times, you’d pass by the tattoo studio and find him already outside, leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed, pretending not to wait for you.
No words needed–just a glance, a nod, a silent agreement.
The garden again.
The first few nights, you kept your distance. Walked side by side but not too close. Talked in short exchanges–flowers, clients, tattoos, weather. Safe topics. The kind you could walk away from without consequence.
But slowly, things shifted.
One evening, he brought two paper cups of tea from the bodega down the block. He didn’t ask what you liked–just handed you one. It was perfect. You didn’t ask how he knew.
Another night, you told him about the first bouquet you ever arranged. He listened quietly, only interrupting once to ask what kind of ribbon you used. He remembered it days later.
Sometimes he’d talk about a design he couldn’t get right. About the way certain clients never sat still. Once, he mentioned the first tattoo he ever gave–on himself. You didn’t ask to see it, but he showed you anyway, pulling back his sleeve in the soft garden light. It was simple. A little shaky. But honest.
Some nights, you talked. Other nights, you didn’t need to.
You’d sit on the same bench, maybe a little closer each time. At some point, your legs brushed, and neither of you moved. At some point after that, he stopped pretending to yawn when he leaned his shoulder lightly into yours.
One night, it rained–just a light drizzle–but you still walked together. Sat under the tree, jackets zipped up, water dripping from the leaves above. You didn’t even bother with umbrellas.
You laughed more. He smiled more.
Everything stayed small. Gentle. But it was undeniable.
The garden changed too, subtly. New blooms came in, just like your newfound relationship with Hyunjin. The air shifted from summer warmth to the first whisper of autumn. You noticed that he always walked on the street side of the sidewalk. He noticed you always carried hand cream and used it when your fingers got stiff from the cold.
It was nothing. It was everything. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t not, either.
And neither of you said anything about what it was. Because naming it might ruin it. And right now–this routine, this quiet rhythm–it was enough. You didn’t want this to be temporary, so maybe leaving it nameless would keep this routine around a bit longer.
–
It started with a skipped night.
You didn’t text. You didn’t walk past the studio. You just… went home.
You told yourself you were tired. That it was nothing. That missing one evening wasn’t strange.
But then it happened again.
And again.
You started closing the shop a little earlier, taking a different route home. On purpose. You kept your head down when you passed the tattoo parlor from the other side of the block, pretending not to notice if the lights were still on. Pretending you weren’t wondering if he was waiting.
You told yourself it was better this way.
That whatever this was had gone too far. That letting it keep going meant something real, and something real meant something to lose. Something that might end up like all the bouquets you’d ever loved: beautiful, fleeting, wilting too soon.
So you cut it short before it could bloom.
You told yourself it wasn’t cruel–that he’d move on, forget the routine, chalk it up to timing.
But he didn’t.
–
He showed up at the shop three days after you vanished from your own pattern, just as you were wiping down the counter. You startled when the bell above the door rang; the sound felt too loud.
He stood there in his usual jacket, hair slightly damp from the light drizzle outside, a crease in his brow that didn’t go away when he saw you.
“Hey,” he said.
You froze for half a second too long. Then forced a smile. “Hey.”
He looked around like he was checking to make sure the world hadn’t shifted. “I thought maybe you’d been sick.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “Then I thought maybe something happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
He paused. The silence stretched.
“…Then what is it?”
You turned back to the counter, suddenly busy with the same cloth you’d already wiped it with twice.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just been–”
What? Busy? Tired? Cold? “—tired, I guess.”
You didn’t look up, but you could feel his eyes on you.
“Tired of the garden?”
The words were gentle, not accusing. That made them worse.
You shook your head. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it a thing.”
There was a beat.
“It was a thing,” he said quietly.
You closed your eyes.
“I just needed some space,” you muttered, wishing he would let it go. Wishing he wouldn’t. “I didn’t mean to–”
“To what?”
“Lead you on,” you said, and it came out sharper than intended. Too final.
He nodded once, jaw flexing, then looked down at his hands.
“I didn’t think you were,” he said. “I just liked being around you.”
That silence came back, thick and tight in your chest.
He turned to leave, but hesitated at the door.
“If you change your mind,” he said, voice low, “you know where to find me.”
Then he was gone.
And you were left in the quiet. Wishing he hadn’t understood so well.
–
The apartment felt colder than usual when you got home.
You turned the lights on, then off again. Sat on the couch, stood up. Wandered into the kitchen just to stand there, palms pressed against the countertop.
Your jacket was still on.
You weren’t tired–not really. Not in the way you told him you were.
You’d just been scared. And now you were even more scared because it was your fault this time. You were the one who turned something soft into something sharp.
You sat back down and stared at your phone. Your fingers hovered above the screen.
You’d told yourself he would walk away. That he’d get tired of waiting. But he didn’t. He waited. He cared. And you turned away first.
You curled up tighter, knees to your chest, eyes unfocused.
What if this wasn’t temporary?
What if it didn’t wilt? What if this was the one thing that stayed?
You didn’t realize you were crying until the sound of a quiet sob broke into the stillness of the room. You wiped your face fast, like it might undo what had already happened. As if shame could make it disappear.
But the ache didn’t go away. It bloomed.
Your hand trembled slightly as you unlocked your phone. You didn’t think–you just hit his name.
It rang twice. You nearly hung up.
Then—
“...Hello?”
His voice was quieter than usual. Careful.
You froze, breath caught in your throat.
“I’m sorry,” you blurted. “I—I lied.”
A pause.
You swallowed. “I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t busy. I was just scared.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
You closed your eyes. “I’ve never had anything good stay, and I think I thought if I walked away first, it wouldn’t get the chance to leave me.” You were rambling now. Unraveling.
“But I miss you. I miss the garden. I miss you being around like it meant something, even if we didn’t say it out loud. I’m sorry I pushed you away. It was a thing. And I think… I think I wanted it to be.”
The line went silent. You could hear your own breath stutter.
Then: “Are you home right now?”
Your heart jumped. “Yeah.”
“Don’t go to sleep,” he said. “I’m coming over.”
–
You didn’t change out of your clothes. Didn’t try to fix your face. You just paced the living room, arms folded tight across your chest, staring out the window even though you couldn’t see much beyond the reflection.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
Then the headlights swept across your wall, and you froze. You opened the door before he could knock.
He stood there in a hoodie and joggers, damp from the rain that had started to fall again. His hair was tousled. His eyes — tired, but soft. Neither of you said anything at first. He looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to. You stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in. He took off his shoes by the door and looked around like he was entering a new world.
It was only when you closed the door behind him that you whispered, “I didn’t think you’d come.”
He glanced back at you. “I told you where to find me. I was hoping you’d come find me, you know. You were on my mind and I just–you’re engraved in my head Y/N, I can’t get you out no matter how hard I try.”
That ache bloomed in your chest again. Warm this time. You moved slowly, sitting down on the couch. He sat next to you, close enough that your knees almost brushed. The silence between you wasn’t awkward. It just… was. Eventually, he spoke. Quietly.
“You don’t have to explain it all tonight.”
You turned to look at him.
“But I want to,” you said.
He nodded.
You shifted, folding your legs underneath you. “I meant what I said. About being scared. I ruin things before they can leave me, because it hurts less that way. At least it’s my decision.”
He was watching you. Fully present. “But this wasn’t just a thing to ruin.”
You looked down. “I know. That’s what made it worse.”
Silence again — but this time, he reached out. Slowly, gently. His hand settled over yours.
You looked at it, then at him.
He didn’t push. He just held on.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, and he let out a breath like he’d been holding it all week.
“I don’t want to be scared anymore, Hyunjin.” You said, lifting your head to trace the flower on his neck.
“We can learn together, I’ll help you.”
The world didn’t shift. It didn’t explode. But it softened. Like new petals unfolding in the dark.
–
Time started folding in on itself after that night.
There wasn’t a single moment where everything changed–just small, warm ones strung together like fairy lights.
He started coming over more. You’d find him at your kitchen counter chopping vegetables while you finished closing the shop. He hummed to himself, sometimes badly, and wore one of your aprons even though it was a little too small. You pretended not to notice the way it made your stomach flutter.
One night, you burnt the rice. You blamed the stove. He blamed the way you got distracted when he smiled at you. You didn’t argue.
—
You drew flowers on his arm in Sharpie while he watched TV with one hand tucked under his cheek.
“You missed your calling,” he mumbled.
“Nah,” you replied. “I’m good at keeping things alive.”
He turned his head slightly to look at you. You pretended not to feel it. Not to want it.
—
You danced in the middle of your living room, barefoot, with music playing off-key from your speaker. He lifted you like nothing and twirled you around, and you told him he had two right feet.
“Better than having two right hands,” he teased, wiggling his tattooing fingers.
You gasped. “That’s rude.”
He only grinned and dipped you lower, kissing you.
—
In the garden, you no longer just sat. You’d lie down on the cool grass. He’d sketch something you couldn’t see. You braided flowers into his hair once as he’d grown it out since the first time you met. He let you.
You asked him, quietly, if he ever thought things like this could last.
He’d replied, without hesitation, “Why wouldn’t it?”
—
It wasn’t a big moment when he asked. Not some cinematic swell of music or grand speech.
You were sitting on your fire escape with him, sharing a carton of ice cream straight from the tub, legs touching. The city was glowing below like a secret.
He nudged you softly with his knee. “So…”
You looked over. He was nervous. For once.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about how we do all these things couples do… and I wanna keep doing them. With you. As your person. If you want.”
You blinked, heart warm and heavy all at once.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that okay? Can I be yours officially?”
You didn’t answer with words. You just kissed him. Slow, and sure, and certain. He grinned into it.
“Is that a yes?” he whispered.
You kissed him again. That was answer enough.
–
After watching the stars, you both went in, and he grabbed his keys, ready to head out. You frowned a bit.
“Could you maybe…stay the night?” you asked hesitantly.
He looked at you and smiled, lifting you up, and you wrapped your legs around him. Your faces were inches apart. Slowly, he broke the distance, and his lips met yours. Kissing him felt like the first time his plush lips met yours. They were as soft as they looked, and felt better than they did in the dream you had. The pace sped up, and you were aching for him. You saw the look in his eyes, and you knew he wanted it as bad as you did.
He carried you to the bedroom and placed you softly on the mattress. He looked down on you with a smirk, admiring you from that angle. You covered your face as you started heating up. He grabbed your hands and pinned them above you, crawling to hover over your body on the bed.
“Don’t cover that pretty face.” He said as he started kissing the tip of your nose, then your temples, and your lips. You kissed back, wanting to hold on longer. He then started to kiss down your body. Once he reached the band of your sweatpants, he pulled them down and kissed your clothed cunt. You let out soft moans. He kissed it more softly, reaching up to massage your breasts from under your shirt. You propped yourself up and took off your shirt, making him smirk at you. He began to suck on your nipples, making your back arch, and you let out a loud, sharp moan.
He lifted himself up from you, leaving a string of saliva. He took off his shirt, revealing his toned, muscular body that had you drooling and wanting more. You started tugging on his waistband, desperate and whining.
“I’m usually not this nice, but for you I am.” He got up to take off his jeans, and you saw the thick outline of his bulging cock begging to be released from his boxers. You palmed him through the fabric, and he left out soft moans, causing your cunt to pulse.
He slightly pulled down the band of his boxers, teasing you by palming himself.
He finally pulled it down, causing his thick cock to bounce towards himself. There was precum on it, and you were drooling for his cock at this point. He got back on top of you after seeing your face, so desperate and needy for him. He kissed your neck as he began to stretch you out. You moaned loudly, mewling as he entered you.
“You okay?” He asks softly, breathless from your tight cunt wrapping around him just as if you were made for him.
“Mhm…” You whined, unable to form any coherent sentence.
He began pumping his cock in and out of you. He wasn’t just fucking you, he was making sweet love to you with melodies of both your moans and gasps filling the room.
“Hyun…Mm so close..” You managed to breathe out.
He quickened his pace as his moaning and breathing got louder.
“Cum for me, hm? Let go for me.” He moans out.
And so you did, spewing out moans and whines of pleasure as he did too. Both of you are coming undone with the warmth wrapping around your stomachs, sealing the final moments with a kiss.
–-
It was a late afternoon in early spring when you finally asked.
You were lying on your back in the garden, head on his jacket, sunlight dappled through the branches above. He was next to you, sketchbook open on his chest, pencil resting behind his ear.
“What were you drawing that day?” you asked, voice soft, almost hesitant. “The first time we laid here.”
He turned his head toward you, blinking at the sky for a moment before smiling faintly. He flipped the sketchbook open and passed it to you, letting it land gently in your hands.
Your breath caught.
It was a lily. Pink and yellow–sketched in colored pencil, with delicate shading that made it look like it was blooming right off the page. There were soft lines connecting each petal, hints of motion, as if it were breathing. Alive.
You ran your fingers over the drawing like it might flutter under your touch.
You looked at him. “Can I have it?”
He blinked. “Have it?”
You nodded. “Tattoo it on me. Just like yours.”
There was a pause. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to make sure you meant it. That you weren’t asking on impulse. But you didn’t look away. So he didn’t argue.
—
Later, you sat in the chair at his studio, back exposed, hair tied up. He was quiet while he worked, focused in that way he always was when his hands were doing something that mattered.
It didn’t hurt as much as you expected.
Or maybe the warmth in your chest was louder than the sting of the needle.
When it was done, he wiped the skin clean and leaned back, eyes soft and steady as he looked at his work, at you.
“This one,” he murmured, fingertips ghosting just above your skin, “will never wilt.”
You turned to him, heart full. “Promise?”
He smiled, and this time, it reached every corner of him.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I promise.”
thank you for reading ❤︎
sorry for any mistakes, please let me know if you catch any!
If you have any requests, feel free to send them in!
synopsis, You were a florist, and he was an artist. The art of delicately placing floral, but spiky stems and drawing lines creating life had its similarities. One day, your worlds inevitably collided. He left a thorn in your mind. While you left an imprint on him, like a tattoo.
content, close proximity, public sex, mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, gunplay (nothing violent), blindfold, squirting, cumplay
word count, 1635
MINORS DNI
Who knew a night out with a dangerous but captivating man surrounded by substances, his scent, and the ambiance of the night would bring the filthiest side out of you.
author note, 08/07/23 it’s been a month since i’ve posted, i’m so sorry. i have four plots sitting in my drafts; i just need to start writing but here is one of them. it’s insane that hyunjin is the ambassador for versace, LIKE congrats to him he deserves it. i just haven’t had any motivation to write and i think i lost a bit of motivation BUT i still do love writing so maybe i’m just lazy. –
03/24/24 YIKES it’s been longer than i expected to be away but i just got a spur of motivation so here i am ^^
You had your eyes on him ever since he stepped foot in the club. It was nearly impossible to not look in his direction; he had a glowing magnetic aura attached to him. He seemed to have been wearing lightly colored contacts, a beautiful contrast to his jet-black hair. It was dark in that room but the moment he stepped in you could see the whites in the eyes of everybody in the joint, lighting up, widening, and following him about. He knew it too.
You loathed men who had such obscenely inflated egos, and you knew he was one of them. The way he carried himself, walking like he had the whole world on his shoulders and no care for a single thing. This wasn’t half wrong, he was someone who would always get his way regardless of any obstacle. Whether it was him or his men getting the job done, he without a doubt got what he wanted. You knew he was everything you detested, however, his supple milk skin, half-buttoned collared shirt, and loose black tie around his neck were speaking to you. The liquor and green were calling back to it all.
After dazing around in a trance, you found yourself just slipping into the dance floor. The bass of the music seeped into your skin, filling up your veins. You could feel the music soaring through you and on the outside, dancing along your skin. The room is ablaze with hues, everyone's nature concealed by the colored LED light shining upon those in the room. Your body was on fire, every movement was lagging and you felt like you were in slow motion.
Suddenly, you feel your body being hugged by a clean but masculine fragrance. You tilt your head to the side, turning it slowly and you see no one next to you. You turn your whole body around and there you’re met with the same collared shirt and tie. Your eyes scan up as your senses start to reawaken and you’re met with the subtle flicker of superiority that seemed to dance amidst the depths of his gaze.
They were a piercing shade of cerulean, similar to the expanse of an icy ocean, cold and unyielding. Despite the icy surface, there simmers an undeniable allure, a magnetic pull drawing you in despite the chill. As he glances down at you, his gaze seems to cut through the air with an almost tangible sharpness. He was consuming your form with a calculated assessment, his eyes framed by dark meticulous lashes, which held an air of condescension as he silently proclaimed his perceived superiority.
There was a light in the lingering of his eyes, a hint of smug satisfaction that shows him taking pleasure in asserting his dominance over you. You were more frail compared to his domineering aura. There was a magnetism– a raw attractiveness captivating you through his gaze. Oh, you felt your skin start to bubble up from the heat. You just despised men like this, but the hatred was shooting down to your core. It was your hatred mixing with the undeniable attraction, creating a dangerous concoction containing lust and desire for relief.
“Aren’t you a pretty little doll?”
His enigmatic and intoxicating voice sends pulses straight to your heat, making your need and desire for him grow by the minute. Your eyes filled to the brim with lust as you held eye contact with him. He had a slight smirk on his face and you knew this was nothing for him. His eyes flicked to your plush, pink lips then scanned their way back into your lust-filled eyes. You don’t know if it was the substance or the confidence the lust brought back to you.
“Why don’t you show me just how pretty I am?”
His pillowy tinted lips crashed onto yours and you felt your legs turn into jello. With each hungry massage of his lips on yours, there was an electric current surging through them. It was simply intoxicating being so lost in each other. The intensity of the heat and passion of the shared kiss rendered your limbs weakening and being so hard to stand up. Hyunjin notices this.
“We can take it to the bathroom, yeah?”
He says, pulling away from the magnetic kiss making it hard not to crash straight back to your lips before you can respond. You nod your head and whine to yourself, not being able to make it loud enough for him to pick up. He softly reaches towards your hands and guides you behind him to somewhere more private.
The moment the bathroom door closes shut, you push him against the door and pull on his necktie bringing your lips to his once again. It was impossible to stay away from, your lips and his were like magnets, constantly trying to find ways to connect back to each other. You felt him smirk against your lips and you could not care any less about inflating his ego. You need him and you know that he needs you just ask much. You were validated as you started to press your body onto his, molding into his form. You felt his hard member rubbing against your supple body. He slowly starts to guide you to the counter, not breaking away from the kiss. His hands were roaming all over your body until he reached your ass. He cups them firmly and you knew he wanted to lift you onto the counter. You comply as you knew a second longer on your feet and your knees would give out from how weak you felt in his hold. You hiss as the cold counter made contact with your warm body, causing Hyunjin to chuckle. There was a dark and lust-filled look in his eyes growing.
After a moment he asks, “I know we just met, but… can I try something new with you?”
You nod.
Before you knew it your eyes were covered by nothing but a black fabric. Hyunjin had swiped his tie off hastily, tying it neatly around your eyes. You heard a click and some rustling. You then felt the pads of Hyunjin’s fingertips grazing your bare leg, your dress had ridden up your leg. He bunches the rest of very little fabric of your dress and rid it all the way up exposing the lacy material the wet from your cunt destroyed. He thumbs your clit over the fabric for a bit causing you to softly moan and move your hips in the rhythm of his circles. You reach out looking for some sort of support and your hand meets his strong broad shoulder. He brushes the hair off of your forehead.
“So pretty” He groans softly.
Soon after, he moves your panties to the side causing your puffy pussy to be met with the cool air; a contrast from the heat of your core. You suddenly gasp as your sensitive clit is greeted with a cold metal. Hyunjin chuckles from your reaction. You had only assumed it was the metal of his gun that you know is always on him and his men. You were a bit frightened to say the least but you trust him; and it felt incredibly good. You couldn’t help but let a few moans start to spill out from your lips. The tip of the gun starts to prod its way down until it meets your entrance. It slowly starts to stretch you out and the untouched shaft of the gun is still icy making you arch your back from the foreign temperature. Your essence covers his weapon as he continues to fuck you dumb with it. You had no idea what he was doing or how he looked doing this but there was some thrill associated with this. This leads you to imagine his pretty face with flushed cheeks and drunken eyes with his mouth hung open. You hear faint grunts coming from the man so you assume he is enjoying the show and stroking his length while making you fall under his control.
Your moans begin to become louder as the squelching sound of the gun fucking in and out of you heightens.
Hyunjin moans, “Fuck, you going to cum for me doll? Hm?”
You nod your head furiously, “Y-yes– fuck. I’m so close please” you whine.
Hyunjin picks up the pace and fucks you so deep that his knuckles start hitting and rubbing on your clit with every thrust. Hyunjin’s moans and growls begin to become more frequent and louder. It was like a melody and drove you over the edge. Your stomach tightens, causing you to close your thighs together but Hyunjin didn’t let you. You felt your cunt gushing, as you were squirting all over Hyunjin. You felt warm thick liquid oozing and dripping down your body and legs. Hyunjin rips the tie off of you and it takes a moment to adjust to the light. When you open your eyes you see his shirt soaked from your juices. You look down and see your cunt and legs covered in his seed.
“I just wanted you to watch me fuck my cum into you. You’re such a good girl, you deserve my cum” He says in an erotic tone.
You whimper and nod. God, the power this man had over you was beyond words. His long lustrous fingers gather his pearly white cum and rub it all over your heat. You moan at the mixing of your juices displayed on a throbbing platter. He then slowly fucks his cum into you with his fingers and curls up causing you to throw your head back and croak a cry.
“I’m going to have so much fun with you Y/n, this is only the beginning.”
Who knew a night out with your favorite man surrounded by substances, his scent, and the ambiance of the night would bring the filthiest side out of you.
poison (seungmin) 🫧, 🦢
Nights like this were few due to both of your busy lives. But when nights like these came it only made you more addicted to him.
cinnamon (changbin) 🩰, 🫧, 🦢
You were never good at feelings and expressing what you felt due to past relationships, both romantic, platonic, and everything in between, causing you to keep everything to yourself to avoid damage. This all changed once you met Changbin. His character made you suspicious, how could someone be just simply, perfect? You wanted him to hold you, love you, touch you, and be the first to do so without hurting you. Would you ever express this to him?
cherry waves (chan) 🩰, 🦢, 🫧
Cherries, your favorite, however ruined by a tragic past relationship leaving you feeling like your heart, soul, and spirit was bleeding out. However, meeting Chan was what rekindled your spirit, but still desperate to patch your heart and soul, you decide to take a full leap of faith with Chan.
content, face sitting, pillow princess, princess treatment tbh
word count, 1911
MINORS DNI
Minho adored you. He wanted to consume all of you, your scent, your essence. He wanted to breathe you in—take in all of you as you were what gave him life.
author note: the polar opposite to blue but i think it’s needed after that 😭
One thing was absolutely undeniable. Minho adored you and loved you endlessly. Sure, his way of expressing love was unlike the rest you have received, but loving Minho was what allowed you to see what true love could be. Love doesn’t have to look the same. You were crazy for him but he was even crazier for you. Other relationships left you feeling like you were unlovable but he made sure to show you how much he truly loved every, single, thing about you. However, one thing that you didn't know was that without you, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. You were his life, his lifeline, his everything, his world. You were like the oxygen he needed to breathe. Your essence and body were what he needed to consume and take all of in, in order to feel full.
He could be a starving man, but with one taste of you, he felt like the wealthiest man alive with an endless table full of sustenance. He’s a frugal man, but with you, he felt the need to hand you the world on a gold platter. Not because you ask for much, but because he wants to worship you and shower you with the finer side of life. He hates seeing you hurt or struggling, so he goes out of the way to make sure he doesn’t have to see you in any pain. Obviously, pain and struggle are inevitable in life, Minho knows this well, yet he doesn’t know why he felt disappointed in himself when you came home looking like your soul had been drained out of your body.
“Honey, you’re home.” Minho greets you. This came as a shock to you as you typically greeted him at the door.
“Min? You’re already home?” You say with pure confusion. Even with the hard day you had just gone through, seeing his face and hearing his voice immediately lifted the weight of the day off of your shoulders.
Minho hums responding to your confusion as he takes your keys and bag from you to place on the table by the door. Soon after, he helps you strip off your sweater and helps you take off your shoes. This is routine by now for the both of you whenever you go out together but today was a different routine. He embraced you and kissed your jaw. His hand snuck its way up to a firm grasp around the back of your head to keep you still as he worked at your jaw. His soft plush lips were enough to make you forget the day you had. You let out a moan and tugged on the back of his shirt. Minho chuckled as he detached himself from your jaw and he was just centimeters from your lips.
You saw the way his eyes focused on your blushed lips. He looked at them with pure passion, desire, and love. After a moment his eyes trailed up to yours where they met. This causes your core to ache with neediness. You knew that he could tell what you needed at this moment. He finally brought his lips to yours and attacked them with hunger. While your lips were hungrily attached to each other, he started to strip your top off as he backed you up until you reached the living room, where your legs met the couch causing you to fall back onto the cushions. Minho got on his knees and started to unbutton your pants, pulled down the zipper, and you lifted your hips to help him remove them. Your pants were pooled around your feet so you finished the work by kicking them off to the side. You felt a patch of your panties drenched. Feeling shy, you squeezed your legs closed in hopes of both relieving the ache and hiding the mess from him.
Minho could read you like a book. He knew everything about you, sometimes more than you know yourself. He saw the coyness in your eyes and the way your legs were shut together. He placed his callused hands on your thighs, trailing them down and towards your inner thigh parting your legs. You gasped as he chuckled seeing just how much of a wreck you were. His eyes were fixated on your damp-clothed core while yours were fixated on his plush lips. Minho pressed his thumb down on your clit causing you to mewl at the small amount of friction. He barely needed to touch you or do anything to you in order for you to fall apart in his arms. This was one thing Minho loved about you. No matter how much he gave you, it was like your first time all over again with the way you reacted to his touch.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me today, honey?” You moaned and nodded as he started rubbing circles around your clit. Minho loved teasing and taking his time with you but you could tell today was going to be different. You’d have to be begging him before he even touched you but you were surprised with the way he had done so so quickly.
He pushed your panties to the side and you felt cold air being blown onto your heat. You clenched and squirmed but he held a firm grip on your thighs keeping you still so you couldn’t escape. Minho started to leave pecks on your clit with his warm, soft lips. You wanted more, causing you to spread your legs and push your hips forward hoping to get your dripping core closer to his lips.
“P-please, don’t tease me, I’ve been a good girl.” You whine softly with glossy eyes. You saw his gaze soften as if something snapped inside of him turning off his teasing demeanor. He kept eye contact with you as his softly parted lips inched closer and closer to your pulsating heat. Finally, his mouth attached to your pussy as he groaned at the taste of your sweet but bitter essence. The way his mouth and tongue worked skillfully around you caused your legs to tremble. Minho wrapped his arms around your thighs from under to keep them from closing around him. Your hips thrust up towards his mouth as you moaned and you felt a smirk tugging on his lips.
“Fuck, Min. I’m so close.” You close your eyes as you moan and tug on his hair making Minho groan. You felt the tension start to build up in your core, moans, and whines spilling out of your mouth profusely, so ready for release—until everything just stopped. Your eyes shot open as your brows started to furrow. You look at Minho who had a slight smile on his face as he looked at you. You couldn’t be mad at the guy when he had your cum coated on his pink lips and on the tip of his nose.
“Sorry honey, but it’s not enough. I want to feel more of you, taste you, breathe you in. I just need more—I can’t get enough.” He whispered as he rubbed your thigh inching further up.
“Y-you do..?” You ask inquisitively. You didn’t know where this would lead.
“I wanted to try something new. Come here.” Minho says with a tone you couldn’t read. Minho gets up to lean on his arm to hold his body weight, lying on the couch. He pulls a hand towards you to help guide you and you sit on his thigh. He puts a strong hold on your waist leading you to straddle his lap as he leans back fully. You didn’t know where this was going but to be honest it only made your cunt start to drip with desire and wonder. He once again grabs a strong hold on your hips to pull you closer up his body to his torso. He starts to trace the outline of your waist with his hands, making their way down to your ass. He leaves a stinging sensation on it causing your body to jerk forward and further up his body. He locks eye contact with you with a smirk on his face that no one could ever wipe off.
“Don’t be shy,” you look at him confused. “You still don’t know what I want Y/n?” You shook your head as no words could slip out of your mouth.
“Honey, I want you to sit on my face, ride my tongue,” Minho says in a domineering tone causing you to shiver.
The excitement rushed straight to your core causing you to clench and ache for some relief. You had never done this before, did you have to hover over him, I mean you didn’t want to suffocate him. Put some body weight—full body weight? As if he could read your mind, “And don’t even think about putting anything less than your whole weight on me, I need to feel all of you.
And with that Minho's hands on your waist start to guide you towards his face until you are hovering over him completely. He had a look in his eye, one you’ve never seen to that intensity before. Before you could even process anything, Minho pushed your weight down on his face and his tongue immediately went to work. Your thighs immediately begin to shake on either side of his head and you throw your head back moaning. The mewls spilling out of your mouth were uncontrollable and no matter how hard you tried they just kept spewing out. You clasp your hands over your mouth. You felt his hands blindly reaching your arm insinuating that he wanted to hear all of you as well.
You look down and the sight of Minho nearly pushes you over the tip. The way his eyes were trained on your cunt, laced with pure enjoyment and hunger showed you just how much he had been waiting for this. The tip of his freckle-decorated nose brushes against your clit. His tongue thrust up inside you and licked all over trying to gather all of your juices, not wanting to waste even a bit.
The longer you focused on him, the more aware you became of all of it all, and felt the tension and tightness begin to build up in your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, Minho, I’m so close— ‘m gonna cum!” You say whining as the pressure begins to become too much to handle. Moans and whines were pouring out, filling the room. Your hips began to buckle and grind on his tongue and the tip of his nose. He began to attack your cunt with more vigor. You reached down to grab his hair with one hand, and the other helped keep your body from collapsing by leaning on the couch’s armrest. Everything began to pour out, the moans, the cries, your juices. The knot in your stomach imploded causing you to see nothing but white.
“Fuck, Minho, Minho!” You begin to chant at the peak of your high as you begin to come down. You collapsed on the side of the couch beside Minho, gasping. He begins to soothe you by rubbing your back and when you opened your eyes you saw your cum glistening. A smile begins to form on his face as he softly chuckles at your fucked out state.
“I can’t tell who had it better, me or you.” He says playfully while you gently smacked his chest.
warnings/content: miscommunication, chan being fixated on work, sensual massage (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), just reader being treated like a princess, creampie
word count: 2280
MINORS DNI
“What are we?” is what you often ask yourself. It hurts that the love he left behind was all that you could get. Maybe you were a little dramatic, but you felt hollow without him. It’s like he just disappeared, claims he’s there, but you can’t see or feel him. Were you angered? Sad? Bitter? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that you needed him and his touch—going from the feeling of being on top of the world to just being left behind in the blink of an eye hurt. Would he ever make it up?
What can you say? He’s a busy man. But it’s times like this when you feel like he’s just a ghost— sure he’s around but never where you could see or feel him. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt dozens of tiny fireworks and a swarm of butterflies in your body. You should understand, shouldn’t you? You knew what it meant when you got with him. He was serious about his work, he’d put his work before he put himself. This wasn’t the first time he got so into his work he started neglecting everyone around him.
—
“Look Y/n, I get it. It was a total jerk thing to do and I could apologize a million times but even if you forgive me, I won’t be able to forgive myself. I will change but I want you to know just how much I love you. I didn’t mean to neglect us like this, but it’s just a thing I do. I neglect everyone around me, even the most valuable people in my life. But I promise, I’ll change.”
—
That’s what he said last time.
—
“I’ll change, Y/n”
—
That’s what he says every time. But did you see a change? Sure. He’d shoot a text every so often reminding you to take care of yourself and about the progress he’s making in his work. You appreciate his efforts so much, while it was not much it was still a step to something. However, while he took 5 steps forward, this time he took 10 steps back. Radio silent was what he was.
He hadn’t answered your texts, and at this point, you were holding yourself back from sending him an angry paragraph. If he wasn’t going to give you his time of day, you weren’t going to either. Not until he showed you he cared enough to make things right. He couldn’t have been this oblivious, choosing to make the same mistakes over again knowing how much it hurt you. Could you even say that you had a loving partner? Were you more worried about the loving or the partner part? You didn’t know and couldn’t find it within yourself to put more energy into someone who couldn’t put an effort just to check in on you just once.
Maybe it’s time to let go. Knowing how to love also means knowing when to let go of things. But truthfully, you didn’t want to, you just couldn’t help but feel the need to sabotage your guys’ relationship in hopes of getting his attention– make him feel the pain, worry, and anxiety that you felt. But you would never admit that. You really didn’t want to let go, he made you the happiest you’ve ever been. He was your first everything, and you consider him to be your first true love. He’s taught you things no one else could’ve and showed you what true love really is. You knew you couldn’t leave, but if he wasn’t going to keep you from going then it’d be best for you two to part.
So, you sent him the text. Not even expecting him to reply, you find yourself receiving a notification from Chan. You scoffed, “So he sees my texts but only replies when I threaten to end things?”
“Y/n? I just finished the material for my deadline. You can’t just decide things like this on your own baby. I understand what I’ve done for the past couple weeks was wrong so I’m coming over to make things right, k?” Well, shit. To be frank, you were a little embarrassed at the outrage you had laid out for Chan but it needed to be said, just for your mental sanity. Yes, there were ways to express the insecurities and anxiety you were feeling, but you were in the mood to show your pettiness and you had no more patience waiting for Chan at this moment. Getting lost in the endless loophole of your thoughts can be scary at times, and you don’t realize how much your mind has been running until you heard three loud thuds sounding off of the door. Your heart rate dramatically increases and as you get up to let Chan in, your legs wobble with slight anxiousness.
As you open the door his scent immediately flourishes through your senses and grounds you once more. It brings you life and you regain the familiar sense of stability and safety. The power this man has to help keep you sane is insane in itself. You gain the strength to look at Chan and before looking up to meet his eyes, you see his black compression shirt, molding his delicately sculpted muscles. The swarm of butterflies that had been lacking for however long finally returned once more. Just one sight of him makes you feel like you’re floating on clouds. You’re broken out of this trance when you register his familiar voice calling you.
“Y/n?” The sound of his voice causes you to dart your eyes to meet his. His typical honey-like was no wear to be found but rather replaced with a dejected husky voice, clearly lacking sleep. He immediately embraced you in a warm comforting hug. A hug that you missed dearly, but nevertheless you froze up, not reciprocating the action. It’s been so long since you’ve felt the warmth radiating from his touch.
“Y/n? Why are you so tense, baby?”
“Chris, you can’t expect everything to be okay when you’ve just been… gone for this long!” You whine in annoyance.
“I thought you understood. I didn’t think you’d be this upset. I warned you, I told you I just get so caught up in everything I forget to look around once in a while. I know what I did was wrong but I never would’ve thought you’d be pushing me away like this. I mean I knew you’d be upset but not this upset-upset!” Chan starts to rumble on, clearly talking before thinking.
“How could I not be upset? It makes me think, ‘What are we?’” You say sighing, dispirited. The silence was deafening. You look up to Chan after hearing nothing from him. You saw tears streaming down his flushed skin, the excruciating look in his eyes. Your heart pounded knowing he finally felt what you felt all these days.
Finally, he whispers “I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice was slightly cracking and he embraced you once more. “I’m sorry I made you feel this way, but I hope you know you can’t get rid of me so easily. I will fight for us, even though it’s so selfish of me. I don’t want to hurt you, I really don’t but I promise I want to get better. You’re the most important part of my life but other things come and try to wreck it but I don’t know how to balance it all, baby. I want you to see a change, I don’t want you to ever doubt my sincerity and love for you.”
You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, ever so softly. At your touch, you felt him immediately melt into your body and soften up. You look at him with glossy eyes and wipe away his damp cheeks. You hate giving in to men that have done you wrong just this easily but you could feel the sincerity radiating off of him. The look in his eyes screamed ‘I’m sorry’. You whisper ever so softly, “It’s okay, Chan.” as you embrace him once more. You knew you yourself couldn't let him go either.
-
You don’t even remember how it escalated to this, it was all just a haze from being drunk in love. Life itself was hazy and lagging behind, with flashes of pink.
“You’re so tense, baby. Let me help you relax, hm?” Chan says, with an obvious smirk on his face. You nod your head quickly and Chan pops up from the couch to grab the bottle of lavender massaging oil. He takes off your top, and in the process kisses your collarbone. You lay down on your stomach and your head is resting on your arms with your head turned to the side. The cold oil drizzling on your bare back causes you to slightly jump and you hear Chan’s sweet giggles behind you. His magic fingers immediately bring you relief, especially after weeks of worry and anxiety. You let out a moan.
“Feels that good, baby?” He says amused but has a layer of seduction behind in his voice.
“Mmm.” You whine in response, not wanting to give away the burning sensation in your heat. You wanted him so bad. You missed the way your bodies would perfectly entangle with each other, he was your missing piece. Chan leans over your oiled body to look you in your eyes and attaches his lips to yours. He continues to work his fingers into your back but it was now a lot warmer with Chan’s close presence grazing your back. His lips molded perfectly with yours like you were meant for each other. Your lips detach and Chan sits back up and you feel his hands inching closer to your waistband. He slowly pulls both your bottoms and panties down and you lift your hips in order to fully have him strip you naked. You saw a glimpse of the clothes being thrown to the floor of the living room and you felt a cool splash on your ass. Chan oiled up your lower back and ass once more and worked his magic.
It was no secret that you were now drenched and hearing Chan’s chuckle made you think he finally saw it all. You couldn’t hide your lust any longer.
“You’re so patient, hm? So needy but patient for me.” Chan whispers in a deep but seductive voice. You whine feeling his gaze all over you. You were fully naked while Chan was still dressed and it made you feel shy.
“I think my baby deserves a treat after everything, what do you think?” He says with a smirk on his face. You nod your head and whine in agreement. You didn’t know why but your mouth was too dry and you couldn’t form any coherent words to respond.
“Use your words, baby.”
“Y-yes, I agree.” You stutter, your words barely even making it out as a whisper. At that sound, Chan grabs your upper thighs with both hands and spreads it causing both your ass and pussy to be put on display just for him. You heard him groan behind you. You wanted to see him, see his face, see his boner.
“Fuck, you’re dripping. Why are you so good to me?” Chan groans as he starts to rub your essence all over your clit. Chan slaps your ass causing you to yelp and he rubs it to soothe it as he chuckles at your reaction. He starts to slowly insert one finger and pumps it in and out. You could feel yourself continue to drip all over him and the couch.
“I-I’m making a mess.” You whine out as moans begin to spew out of your mouth. You hear Chan groan.
“You’re making a pretty mess all over me, baby. You want my cock, hm?” You nod your head furiously at the sound of that. Was it selfish or wrong for you to say that was what you missed the most from the weeks of silence from Chan? Chan pulls his finger out of you and you whine at the feeling of being empty.
“I’m gonna fuck you raw, baby. You’re gonna take all of me right?” You whine at the sound of that. And before you knew it, Chan’s bare chest connected to your bare back and he began to kiss your neck. He sucked on the side of your jaw, the perfect spot that always had you begging for more. As he painted your neck and jaw with hickeys, he began to rub your entrance and clit with his tip which had precum painted all over.
“Fuck, Chan.” You moaned loudly, not shy anymore. The stretch of his cock entering you made you arch your back and throw your head back. As you did so Chan began to gently nibble on your ear. He whispered, “Fuck you’re so tight. You've been waiting for me, baby? Hm?” as he thrust in and out of your dripping pussy. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this good and you were already close. He felt you clenching around him and he knows you like no other. He knew you were close, so he sped up.
“Fuck baby, you gon cum for me? You’re such a good little slut, Y/n.” Chan growls as the sound of your skin against each other begins to get louder with each thrust. You felt his girthy cock twitch in you and you knew he was close as well.
“Chan,” You whined, “I'm gonna cum.” You say repeatedly, louder and louder as your high approaches.
“It’s okay, baby, cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me.” He says grunting and as the sparks in your stomach began to take off, you felt his cum shoot into you, it was so warm. You loved how vocal Chan was, and it always tipped you over just right.
-
As you both began to come down from your high Chan maneuvered your bodies so you were resting on top of him.
“Let me clean you up in the shower and I’ll catch you up on everything that happened, hm?” Chan whispers so sweetly into your ear making you smile.
warnings/content: toxic relationship, oral (fem and male receiving), mentions of cheating, dacryphilia, y/n real delusional here
word count: 1694
MINORS DNI
He came to leave you blue. But it’s like a drug to you, you know you shouldn’t but every time, he makes you feel like no one else and you hope that he’d stay. You know it’d be the same, because he always blew it, and even then you fall for it every time.
author note: 5 star is out so I finished this up while listening to the new album
You knew. The familiar voice on the other end of the line causes your whole world to come to a pause. You tell yourself it’d be no different the next time he comes around, but your mouth betrays your brain, just as your heart betrays your mind. There’s always a small light of hope in your dark heart that he’d come to stay but you knew he’d build it all up just to knock it all down as he had done before, every single time. He’d just disappear and come back when you build yourself back up just for everything to crash and burn again.
“I’ll see you soon, beautiful” Your heart flutters at the name. Your heart still pounds for him, no matter how beat up and broken he leaves you every time. His affection and presence were what gave you life. It made your heart flutter but ache every time knowing it was never just you. He always made you feel like you were on top of the world, that there was none like you. You hated yourself at this moment, but the idea of just being able to see him again and be close to him was enough for you.
His familiar patterned knocks break you out of this trance and as you inch closer to your door your heart inches closer out of your chest. You knew the mistake you were making, but you couldn’t help it. They say you can’t learn without mistakes, but here you were making the same one, over and over again. You knew you should’ve kicked him out of your life just as he had kicked and tossed your heart around but you needed him– you craved and ached for him.
You opened the door and he somehow looked even more gorgeous than the last time you had seen him. He had grown his hair out and had the most striking glow to him. He really did it, he said he’d change, clean up his act, and come when he was better for you. He looked even better so that must be a reflection of his attitude now, right? That’s what you thought but deep down you knew.
The moment he stepped into your doorstep he crashed his soft lips onto yours and you immediately responded with hunger. You feel his smirk on your lips due to your eagerness. Minho grabs your ass and massages the flesh while nibbling on your lip, feeling the skin become puffy and irritated. With one hand still massaging you, he brings the other to play with your hair and brushes the strands out of your face while attaching himself to your neck. The more you gave yourself to him the more he’d love you. You knew it’d be a pain for the next day to figure out how to hide his deep marks but it felt too good to stop. He knew you inside and out, all the weak points and buttons to push to make you melt in his hands.
He moves your hands down to the band of his sweatpants, you know what he wanted. You two haven’t even made it 2 feet inside of your home and here you were giving him exactly what he wanted. You’d be dumb if you didn’t know what he was looking for at this point, and you gave him exactly what he wanted every time.
"Fuck baby, you're so good to me hm? Always know how to make me feel good right, honey?" He says as you pull his sweatpants and boxers all down at once, watching his girthy cock spring out, slapping his abdomen. He had the prettiest cock in the world, with a vein running through it and the glossy angry tip coated in precum made your heat clench. You could feel your panties getting ruined by the second and you catch yourself nearly drooling at the sight.
Minho makes a makeshift ponytail with one hand, he was always the best at those, so quick and neat with it. You immediately take that as a sign and attach your warm mouth to his tip, swirling your tongue around it. You come off of his tip making a pop sound and leave sloppy kisses on his member from the base and up. Once you reach his head once again, you waste no time to take him whole. He groans at the wet and warm work you’re doing and pushes your head deeper down his cock. Your eyes water up and you hear him chuckle. He’s always been vocal and that was something you loved– the praise, him egging you on. You thrived for it.
“Honey, fuck, you’re so good. You always know how to take me whole. It must be hard taking all of me, hm?” You could feel yourself dripping and you hate knowing how much power he has over you. Tears were streaming down your face– it was too much for you, his member was too big. Was that really why you were crying, or was it because you didn’t want this to end? You didn’t want him to leave– you missed the taste of his precum and you missed the feeling of his girth in your mouth. You pick up the pace and feel his cock twitching in your mouth.
“Keep going honey– going to swallow everything, don’t leave a single drop you slut” He groans while shooting his cum in your mouth.
You detach yourself from his member and you wrap your legs around his waist as he lifts you up. He throws you on the couch as you immediately strip your ruined bottoms and panties for him. He presses your puffy clit with his thumb making you squirm and whine as he wipes your wet rosy cheeks.
“Don’t tease me, I’ve been so good for you Min.” You say as he starts rubbing you. Slowly he inserts one finger, then the next.
“Yes honey, you’ve been so good, haven’t you? This cunt is mine isn’t it?” You nod furiously as you moan at the way he’s making you feel, both stimulating your mind and your heat. You clench around his fingers and you feel yourself dripping all over his fingers and your couch.
“I’m making a mess” You whine as you feel yourself getting closer to your high.
“It’s okay honey, it’s ‘cause I’m making you feel so good isn't it, hm?”
“Fuck Min I’m so close– please keep going fuck” You whine and moan feeling the warm bubbly feeling in your lower abdomen boiling up. But as always, he rips his finger out of your dripping cunt and you groan as you feel your high slipping away.
“Min, why you gotta do that?” You say frustrated. He gets you up to leave you empty– he was always so cruel like that.
“You know what good girls do, this isn’t the first time. And you know what good girls get for waiting, don’t you?” He says, voice laced with honey and venom at the same time. This only made you drip and clench, aching for some release and pressure.
Feeling overwhelmed by all your senses and Minho’s dominant presence, you lifted your hands to wipe your cheeks. You didn’t even realize the tears of neediness and frustration running down your flushed face.
“Aww, poor little baby. You think crying is going to make me go easier on you? You should know, honey, this only gets me going even more.” He says with a sinister chuckle. You look down and see his cock harder and twitching with precum on its angry red tip once more.
“Please Minho, please. I need to feel good, I want you to make me feel good ‘cause you always make me cum so hard.” You hear him groan and you look down and couldn’t help but smirk knowing you were going to get your way. Maybe last time you didn’t, but now you know how to get exactly what you want.
He grabs both of your thighs with your legs wide open and tugs you so you are laying on your back with your legs on his strong shoulders. “You’re so pretty when you cry for me.” He whispers as he enters you. You moan at the stretch of his warm, throbbing member immediately hitting the spot he knows so well. He thumbs at your puffy sensitive clit. The mixture of his moans and whines along with his cock hitting you so deep while he plays with your clit gets you reaching your high faster than you were ready. You could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer either at the way his pace got faster but sloppier and the way you could feel his dick twitching in your heat.
“Fuck honey, I’m not going to last much longer if you keep clenching your tight little cunt.” He says, slightly whining.
“I’m so close– I’m gonna cum Minho, I’m gonna cum!” You whine, moans spilling out of your pretty little mouth. The thin sheet of sweat on both of your bodies and your lips messily colliding makes you wish this moment would never end.
“I’m on the pill Min, please, please cum in me. I want your cum, I want all of it!” You say as you reach your climax, seeing a white light and losing your hearing. Your toes curl and you throw your head back on the couch cushion, digging your nails into Minho’s arms. As your high comes to an end you first feel the warm substance shooting in you, causing you to moan. Then, that wakes up your senses as you listen to Minho’s sweet moans.
-
He washed you both up and expecting him to leave right after cleaning you up, he sneaks into the bed with you, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your back was against his and you could feel his chest slowly rising up and down as he drifted off to sleep. The smell of shampoo swirled all over you and engulfed your senses. He held you as if he’d stay. You knew. Every time he comes, he leaves you blue.
Your first and everything was Hyunjin. He was your first kiss, first lover, the first person you had an intimate relationship with, and it was no secret that he loved smoking. Although he never pressured you, you always wished to get high with your boyfriend for the first time. Where would your first high and being in the presence of your lover lead you?
author note: omg this is my first fic on tumblr hope it was alright </3
You’re used to the strong smell of weed, it was no stranger to you. It was everywhere you were. The stench of marijuana always lingered on the clothes of your lover and you two were inseparable. The permanent residence of the odor in your apartment was evident of so. You two couldn’t bare to not be in each other’s presence. If not in your apartment, you would sleep, eat, and work in his. Spending nearly every morning and night with him allowed you to catch all his small habits and routine. He wakes up earlier than you and prepares breakfast for the two of you, wake you up, and always kisses your lips before he heads to work.
You were never good at feelings and expressing what you felt due to past relationships, both romantic, platonic, and everything in between, causing you to keep everything to yourself to avoid damage. This all changed once you met Changbin. His character made you suspicious, how could someone be just simply, perfect? You wanted him to hold you, love you, touch you, and be the first to do so without hurting you. Would you ever express this to him?
ghost (chan) 🏹, 🎐, 🪽
“What are we?” is what you often ask yourself. It hurts that the love he left behind was all that you could get. Maybe you were a little dramatic, but you felt hollow without him. It’s like he just disappeared, claims he’s there, but you can’t see or feel him. Were you angered? Sad? Bitter? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that you needed him and his touch. Going from the feeling of being on top of the world to just being left behind in the blink of an eye hurt. Would he ever make it up?
cherry waves (chan) 🏹, 🪽, 🎐
Cherries, your favorite, however ruined by a tragic past relationship leaving you feeling like your heart, soul, and spirit was bleeding out. However, meeting Chan was what rekindled your spirit, but still desperate to patch your heart and soul, you decide to take a full leap of faith with Chan.
Cherries, your favorite, however ruined by a tragic past relationship leaving you feeling like your heart, soul, and spirit was bleeding out. However, meeting Chan was what rekindled your spirit, but still desperate to patch your heart and soul, you decide to take a full leap of faith with Chan.
ghost (chan) a, f, m
“What are we?” is what you often ask yourself. It hurts that the love he left behind was all that you could get. Maybe you were a little dramatic, but you felt hollow without him. It’s like he just disappeared, claims he’s there, but you can’t see or feel him. Were you angered? Sad? Bitter? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that you needed him and his touch. Going from feeling of being on top of the world to just being left behind in the blink of an eye hurt. Would he ever make it up?
cherry waves is just hard for me to spill my thoughts out in words so that one might take some time T-T but i’m currently working on ghost and i’m feeling good about it
warnings/content: toxic relationship, oral (fem and male receiving), mentions of cheating, dacryphilia, y/n real delusional here
word count: 1694
MINORS DNI
He came to leave you blue. But it’s like a drug to you, you know you shouldn’t but every time, he makes you feel like no one else and you hope that he’d stay. You know it’d be the same, because he always blew it, and even then you fall for it every time.
author note: 5 star is out so I finished this up while listening to the new album
You knew. The familiar voice on the other end of the line causes your whole world to come to a pause. You tell yourself it’d be no different the next time he comes around, but your mouth betrays your brain, just as your heart betrays your mind. There’s always a small light of hope in your dark heart that he’d come to stay but you knew he’d build it all up just to knock it all down as he had done before, every single time. He’d just disappear and come back when you build yourself back up just for everything to crash and burn again.
“I’ll see you soon, beautiful” Your heart flutters at the name. Your heart still pounds for him, no matter how beat up and broken he leaves you every time. His affection and presence were what gave you life. It made your heart flutter but ache every time knowing it was never just you. He always made you feel like you were on top of the world, that there was none like you. You hated yourself at this moment, but the idea of just being able to see him again and be close to him was enough for you.
His familiar patterned knocks break you out of this trance and as you inch closer to your door your heart inches closer out of your chest. You knew the mistake you were making, but you couldn’t help it. They say you can’t learn without mistakes, but here you were making the same one, over and over again. You knew you should’ve kicked him out of your life just as he had kicked and tossed your heart around but you needed him– you craved and ached for him.
You opened the door and he somehow looked even more gorgeous than the last time you had seen him. He had grown his hair out and had the most striking glow to him. He really did it, he said he’d change, clean up his act, and come when he was better for you. He looked even better so that must be a reflection of his attitude now, right? That’s what you thought but deep down you knew.
The moment he stepped into your doorstep he crashed his soft lips onto yours and you immediately responded with hunger. You feel his smirk on your lips due to your eagerness. Minho grabs your ass and massages the flesh while nibbling on your lip, feeling the skin become puffy and irritated. With one hand still massaging you, he brings the other to play with your hair and brushes the strands out of your face while attaching himself to your neck. The more you gave yourself to him the more he’d love you. You knew it’d be a pain for the next day to figure out how to hide his deep marks but it felt too good to stop. He knew you inside and out, all the weak points and buttons to push to make you melt in his hands.
He moves your hands down to the band of his sweatpants, you know what he wanted. You two haven’t even made it 2 feet inside of your home and here you were giving him exactly what he wanted. You’d be dumb if you didn’t know what he was looking for at this point, and you gave him exactly what he wanted every time.
"Fuck baby, you're so good to me hm? Always know how to make me feel good right, honey?" He says as you pull his sweatpants and boxers all down at once, watching his girthy cock spring out, slapping his abdomen. He had the prettiest cock in the world, with a vein running through it and the glossy angry tip coated in precum made your heat clench. You could feel your panties getting ruined by the second and you catch yourself nearly drooling at the sight.
Minho makes a makeshift ponytail with one hand, he was always the best at those, so quick and neat with it. You immediately take that as a sign and attach your warm mouth to his tip, swirling your tongue around it. You come off of his tip making a pop sound and leave sloppy kisses on his member from the base and up. Once you reach his head once again, you waste no time to take him whole. He groans at the wet and warm work you’re doing and pushes your head deeper down his cock. Your eyes water up and you hear him chuckle. He’s always been vocal and that was something you loved– the praise, him egging you on. You thrived for it.
“Honey, fuck, you’re so good. You always know how to take me whole. It must be hard taking all of me, hm?” You could feel yourself dripping and you hate knowing how much power he has over you. Tears were streaming down your face– it was too much for you, his member was too big. Was that really why you were crying, or was it because you didn’t want this to end? You didn’t want him to leave– you missed the taste of his precum and you missed the feeling of his girth in your mouth. You pick up the pace and feel his cock twitching in your mouth.
“Keep going honey– going to swallow everything, don’t leave a single drop you slut” He groans while shooting his cum in your mouth.
You detach yourself from his member and you wrap your legs around his waist as he lifts you up. He throws you on the couch as you immediately strip your ruined bottoms and panties for him. He presses your puffy clit with his thumb making you squirm and whine as he wipes your wet rosy cheeks.
“Don’t tease me, I’ve been so good for you Min.” You say as he starts rubbing you. Slowly he inserts one finger, then the next.
“Yes honey, you’ve been so good, haven’t you? This cunt is mine isn’t it?” You nod furiously as you moan at the way he’s making you feel, both stimulating your mind and your heat. You clench around his fingers and you feel yourself dripping all over his fingers and your couch.
“I’m making a mess” You whine as you feel yourself getting closer to your high.
“It’s okay honey, it’s ‘cause I’m making you feel so good isn't it, hm?”
“Fuck Min I’m so close– please keep going fuck” You whine and moan feeling the warm bubbly feeling in your lower abdomen boiling up. But as always, he rips his finger out of your dripping cunt and you groan as you feel your high slipping away.
“Min, why you gotta do that?” You say frustrated. He gets you up to leave you empty– he was always so cruel like that.
“You know what good girls do, this isn’t the first time. And you know what good girls get for waiting, don’t you?” He says, voice laced with honey and venom at the same time. This only made you drip and clench, aching for some release and pressure.
Feeling overwhelmed by all your senses and Minho’s dominant presence, you lifted your hands to wipe your cheeks. You didn’t even realize the tears of neediness and frustration running down your flushed face.
“Aww, poor little baby. You think crying is going to make me go easier on you? You should know, honey, this only gets me going even more.” He says with a sinister chuckle. You look down and see his cock harder and twitching with precum on its angry red tip once more.
“Please Minho, please. I need to feel good, I want you to make me feel good ‘cause you always make me cum so hard.” You hear him groan and you look down and couldn’t help but smirk knowing you were going to get your way. Maybe last time you didn’t, but now you know how to get exactly what you want.
He grabs both of your thighs with your legs wide open and tugs you so you are laying on your back with your legs on his strong shoulders. “You’re so pretty when you cry for me.” He whispers as he enters you. You moan at the stretch of his warm, throbbing member immediately hitting the spot he knows so well. He thumbs at your puffy sensitive clit. The mixture of his moans and whines along with his cock hitting you so deep while he plays with your clit gets you reaching your high faster than you were ready. You could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer either at the way his pace got faster but sloppier and the way you could feel his dick twitching in your heat.
“Fuck honey, I’m not going to last much longer if you keep clenching your tight little cunt.” He says, slightly whining.
“I’m so close– I’m gonna cum Minho, I’m gonna cum!” You whine, moans spilling out of your pretty little mouth. The thin sheet of sweat on both of your bodies and your lips messily colliding makes you wish this moment would never end.
“I’m on the pill Min, please, please cum in me. I want your cum, I want all of it!” You say as you reach your climax, seeing a white light and losing your hearing. Your toes curl and you throw your head back on the couch cushion, digging your nails into Minho’s arms. As your high comes to an end you first feel the warm substance shooting in you, causing you to moan. Then, that wakes up your senses as you listen to Minho’s sweet moans.
-
He washed you both up and expecting him to leave right after cleaning you up, he sneaks into the bed with you, wrapping his arm around your waist. Your back was against his and you could feel his chest slowly rising up and down as he drifted off to sleep. The smell of shampoo swirled all over you and engulfed your senses. He held you as if he’d stay. You knew. Every time he comes, he leaves you blue.
He came to leave you blue. But it’s like a drug to you, you know you shouldn’t, but every time you hope that he’d stay. You know it’d be the same, because he always blew it, and even then you fall for it every time.
cherry waves (chan) a, m, f
Cherries, your favorite, however ruined by a tragic past relationship leaving you feeling like your heart, soul, and spirit was bleeding out. However, meeting Chan was what rekindled your spirit, but still desperate to patch your heart and soul, you decide to take a full leap of faith with Chan.
Nights like this were few due to both of your busy lives. But when nights like these came it only made you more addicted to him.
cinnamon (changbin) 🩰, 🫧, 🦢
You were never good at feelings and expressing what you felt due to past relationships, both romantic, platonic, and everything in between, causing you to keep everything to yourself to avoid damage. This all changed once you met Changbin. His character made you suspicious, how could someone be just simply, perfect? You wanted him to hold you, love you, touch you, and be the first to do so without hurting you. Would you ever express this to him?
cherry waves (chan) 🩰, 🦢, 🫧
Cherries, your favorite, however ruined by a tragic past relationship leaving you feeling like your heart, soul, and spirit was bleeding out. However, meeting Chan was what rekindled your spirit, but still desperate to patch your heart and soul, you decide to take a full leap of faith with Chan.
