mep ⎯⎯ ✮ ﹙distractions﹚ ‘ 04
⭒ flirting with your boyfriend in the studio goes just as much as you expect until you get caught.
전 ﹒ martin x f!reader’ ⎯⎯ established rls ✭ wc ﹒ 757⠀ ⭒ fluff, skinship, kissing
You’re slouched on the couch, phone face-down in your hands, watching your boyfriend from across the studio.
Martin is completely locked in—headphones on, brows furrowed, fingers flying over the controls like the world might end if he misses a beat. He doesn’t even glance your way. “Wow,” you mutter, louder this time. “I could literally disappear and you wouldn’t notice.”
“Martin,” you whine, stretching his name out. “You said five minutes. That was, like… forever ago.”
He simply hums and dives back in to what he was doing which might actually just drive you crazy.
You roll your eyes and start sighing dramatically, shifting, tapping your foot, letting out little noises of pure boredom. You’re not even subtle about it. Finally, Martin pulls one earcup off and glances over his shoulder, amusement flickering across his face.
“You done over there?” he asks.
“No,” you say instantly. “I’m dying and you’re ignoring me.”
He laughs, shakes his head, and pats his thigh. “come here.”
You hesitate for exactly half a second before standing and walking over. The moment you’re close enough, he grabs your wrist gently and pulls you down onto his lap. One arm settles around you, his hand resting warm and familiar on your thigh.
He tilts his head, eyes scanning your face. “Better?”
You nod, then immediately regret it when he smirks.
“Oh,” he says, teasing now. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not,” you lie, heat rushing to your cheeks anyway.
He chuckles and gestures back to the screen. “Okay, since you were so desperate for attention, I’ll teach you. I was working on the bridge,” he says, gesturing to the screen. “See, the layers here—” He starts explaining what he’s working on, voice low and focused again, but this time it’s right there, brushing against you.
You try to follow his explanation. You really do. But sitting on his lap, his hand absentmindedly rubbing slow circles, your brain completely short-circuits. The words blur together until all you can think about is how close his face is. How easy it would be to lean in.
All you can see is his face. The way his lashes cast shadows when he looks down. The small crease between his brows when he’s concentrating. How handsome he looks when he’s completely unaware he’s being stared at.
You don’t even realize you’ve gone quiet until he stops talking.
“…Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, amused.
You blink, caught. “Like what?”
He smiles slowly, knowingly, and shifts you closer on his lap. His hand slides from your thigh to your waist, grounding, warm. “Like you forgot how words work.”
Your cheeks burn. Being this close makes everything worse—the faint scent of him, the way his knee bounces slightly under you, the fact that his face is right there. Your mind blanks completely, thoughts dissolving into nothing but the space between you.
You groan softly and turn your face away, but he follows, gently nudging your chin back toward him. “Hey,” he says, quieter now. “I’m teasing.”
Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you.
It’s slow and soft at first, just a brush of lips, like he’s testing whether you’ll pull away. You don’t. Instead, you relax into it, fingers curling lightly into his shirt. He smiles against your lips—actually smiles—before kissing you again, deeper this time, unhurried and warm.
When you pull back, flustered and breathless, you swat his shoulder playfully. “You didn’t warn me!”
He laughs and clutches his chest like he’s been wounded. “Ouch! That hurt. I think I need a healing kiss.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too much to pretend you’re annoyed. “You’re impossible.”
“I love you too,” he says easily.
You slide a hand up to his cheek and pull him in again. This kiss is fuller, more confident—his hand tightens at your waist, thumb brushing just under your ribs, the other cradling your face like it’s precious. You melt into him, the world narrowing to the press of his lips and the quiet hum of the studio around you.
You’re so lost in him that you don’t hear the door.
You and Martin both look up to see Keonho and Seonghyeon standing there mid-step, mouths open, frozen like someone hit pause.
Mortification hits instantly. You bury your face in Martin’s chest, groaning. “Please let me disappear.”
Martin groans. “Do you two ever knock?”
They scramble instantly. “SORRY!” “WE’LL COME BACK!” “WE DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING!”
Martin chuckles softly and rubs your back. “You okay?”
You peek up at him, still embarrassed. He tilts his forehead against yours, eyes warm and teasing. “Worth it, though.”
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