Meowr

An ‘06 Fanfics fuel me

[ihaveamassivegun]

ALL DONE: BOSS

pairing: ot8!skz x assistant!reader

genre: smut, romance, work place romance, comedy

summary: part one. stray kids just works soooo hard, and aren’t you just an angel of an assistant to give them the sexual relief they need? (chan and hyunjin getting some action specifically, the others will come in the next parts)

warnings: asshole skz, out of character because we like our men a lil evil around here, absolutely unrealistic, fuck knows what assistants do in these environments, cursing, power imbalance, objectification of reader lowk, dumb men, sexual content(oral and handjobs (m receiving), deepthroating, gagging(and gagging sum cum back up), spitting, cum eating, face fucking, grinding, ass play but nothing goes inside a body, making out, hickeys, heavy sexual tension), multiple sex scenes

word count: 22k

you’ve been working for stray kids for about three weeks now and holy shit it’s fucking hell.

as an assistant. given to stray kids themselves because lately, they’ve been needing extra staff support. and that’s okay, boys. just… stop being fucking assholes, maybe?

chan is the only one who sometimes remembers you have a name. he makes you feel like he could either pat your head or fire you without raising his voice. mostly he just nods when you hand him something, mutters “thanks” and keeps walking like you’re part of the wallpaper. one time he actually said “good job” after you fixed his in ear monitor in under ten seconds during soundcheck. you almost dropped dead from the shock.

lee know says maybe twelve words to you a day if you’re lucky. you hand him water, he takes it. you remind him something, he goes “mhm.” you accidentally bump into him backstage and he just sidesteps. you wonder if he even knows you’re the new assistant or if he thinks you’re just another staff member.

changbin is the only one who consistently doesn’t make you feel disposable. he always says “thank you so much” when you pass him anything. once you brought him his favorite hoodie you knew he likes and he looked at you like you hung the moon. “ah… really? you didn’t have to…” he still forgets your name sometimes but at least he tries. “you… the new one, right? sorry, what was it again?” cute fucker.

you want to kick hyunjin up. he’ll take the coffee you’re offering, and go “hm. a little cold already” like you personally pissed in it. you stand there wondering if you should spit in his next one. he’s not outright cruel, just lowkey evil in that hot way that makes you wanna smack him and also maybe climb him. he’s lucky you’re professional.

han seems to be fine by himself most of the time but says “thank youuu~” to you at leadt. pretty chill guy. doesn’t pay you much mind though. doesn’t pay much mind to anything.

felix manages a “oh, thank you” when you get him something but that’s mostly it. you swear he’s the only one who makes eye contact. lowk distant, not like you expected him to jump into your lap, just saying. you brought him throat candies once and he looked genuinely touched. “you noticed? ah, i’m sorry for the trouble.” bro you’re literally paid to notice.

seungmin doesn’t care much either. oh, staff, nice, gets me shit. helps me with shit. it’s their job, my job, that’s fine.

jeongin manages to thank you too, time to time. sometimes he’ll add a tiny “you’re fast” when you’re quick with something.

you hate working for them, to be honest.

just again, why would anyone expect these celebrities to be nice to you, but still. eye contact at least would be nice, dude. or dudes.

mornings are the worst. you’re running around with eight different demands at the same time. chan wants you to tell other people like, sixty things. hyunjin complains whatever drink he asked for is too sweet even though he didn’t fucking specify. lee know just takes whatever you give him and stares into the void. changbin thanks you three times. han acts hurt when you ask him something bc wdym he has to think when it’s your job. felix politely asks if you can find his missing earring. seungmin is on his phone all the time and jeongin is hiding behind his hood pretending he’s not awake yet.

when they’re not just rotting in the recording booths, you’re shoving water bottles, towels, monitors, this and that into their hands while they barely look at you.

“here.” “thanks.” “mhm.” “fuck, this cord is tangled again, who the hell—” (that’s seungmin).

hyunjin once threw his in ear back at you because it was “buzzing weird” and you caught it mid air. he actually looked surprised before going back to ignoring your existence.

but most of the time, you’re background noise. a pair of hands that brings things and fixes things and stays out of the way.

but just again, they’re not your friends and you do not expect them to be. they’re eight men in their twenties living in pressure all the time and they simply don’t have the energy to care about the new assistant beyond “does this person make my life easier right now?”

that’s fine with you. you get paid. you get to stare at handsome faces all day.

plus they’re all massive dramatic bitches when the stress gets too serious.

well, they never scream at you or anything, that would be unprofessional and they’re way too image conscious for that shit. but the passive aggressive energy? the tiny huffs? you want to strangle them.

hyunjin is like the final fuckass boss. you want to peg him just tor the way how he acts when something doesn’t go exactly his way. and not peg in the good way.

one morning you handed him his coffee and it had one too many ice cubes or whatever the fuck and he just stared at the cup.

“this again?” he muttered, then shoved it back into your hands without looking at you. “make it properly.”

later during rehearsal when his mic pack was acting up he actually clicked his tongue loud enough for you to hear and gave you that gut curling side eye like you invented technical difficulties yourself. bitch. you fixed it in thirty seconds flat and he didn’t even say thanks.

still, when he’s not in bitch mode he tolerates you fine. sometimes he even nods in your direction when he sees you. progress.

chan can get angry. “where’s the updated timing?” he asked you once, voice flat, like you were supposed to read his mind.

you scrambled, fixed it, handed it over. he took it without a word, scanned it, then just exhaled through his nose real hard.

the manly equivalent of slamming a door.

later he remembered to mutter “sorry, long day” but it still felt like you got lightly bitch slapped by responsibility.

you once brought lee know the wrong flavor of sum drink and he just looked at the bottle for five full seconds, then set it down slowly. he still takes whatever you give him most days and grunts “mhm” but on bad days that grunt sounds like it’s coming from the depths of hell.

changbin tries to behave, but he gets irritated at shit too. he’ll smile through it at first, “ah it’s okay…” but then he starts avoiding eye contact. not brave enough to actually point it out.

one time the stylists changed his outfit last minute and he had to wait for you to find the right shoes because it was put down somewhere. he stood there quietly for ten minutes, then very politely went “…it’s been a while, hm?”

you felt bad as fuck even though it wasn’t your fault. you got a thanks, at least.

han will still say thank you but it’s almost sarcastic. “thanks. really needed that.” said in a tone that implies he needed it five minutes ago. he wants you to be in place, you work for him after all.

felix stays fair at least. “it’s fine.” he’ll say. “just… next time maybe check twice?” you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. beautiful men should not be allowed to do this.

seungmin will take what you hand him, say thanks in the most neutral tone possible, and that’s it. says thanks but says it wirh the energy of thx.

sometimes he’ll just look through you like you’re not even there. one time you reminded him about something in twenty and he went “yeah i know” so flat you felt stupid for opening your mouth.

he’s not mean exactly, just… done. existing in his own bubble and you’re outside it.

jeongin will mumble thanks when you help him but if he’s stressed he gets his little attitude. “you sure this is the right one?” he asked once, holding up the wrong anything you accidentally gave him. made you feel so dumb. wanted you to feel dumb. then he smiled like he didn’t just lowkey call you incompetent. little shit.

still blushes when you catch him off guard though, so at least there’s that.

the days they’re huge bitches are usually the ones with back to back schedules, zero sleep, and zero breaks. you get it. so yeah, they snap a little. they get pissy. they sigh loud and click tongues and give you the cold shoulder.

but they don’t hate you, actually. none of them has ever complained about you to management or asked for someone else.

they like you enough not to make your life hell, but not enough to treat you like a person most days. you’re useful. reliable. that’s about it. you’re like any other staff, assigned a little closer to them, maybe.

you like watching chan lead them thru another flawless performance like he didn’t almost bite your head off six hours earlier.

men.

and it’s always, a l w a y s, y/n this. y/n that. y/n where is my nonstop. they’re on your dick 24/7.

“y/n.”

“y/n get me water.”

“y/n my in ear is messed up again.”

“y/n where’s the schedule?”

“y/n, hurry.”

even when they’re being bitches they still need you. especially when they’re being bitches.

hyunjin is your favorite to be honest. not because oh bias or anything, just because you actually kinda fuck with the way he’s like this. it’s like those female teachers loving the boys even though the boys are annoying and disrespectful.

“y/n. fix this.” he’ll say, pissy, shoving his half buttoned shirt at you. the stylist buttoned it for him perfectly before, mind you. fuck did he unbutton it for? bitch go tell the stylist this not y/n. (you did it for him)

one time he was in a full mood during rehearsal, everything was wrong, and he kept calling your name every thirty seconds. “y/n this light is too bright.” “y/n the floor feels sticky.”

you fixed it all but told him under your breath “then lick it cleaner, princess”

he actually heard you. you thought you were getting fired right there. wouldn’t even have minded it either, but he just gave you the deadest stare but didn’t say shit because deep down he knows he’s being a hoe.

when chan asks you to bring the this, the that, you bring it. two minutes later: “y/n, the pens?” you bring pens. five minutes later: “y/n—” you almost throw the whole fucking folder at his head.

lee know doesn’t even say full sentences anymore. just “y/n.” and then points at whatever he needs. water. towel. phone charger.

once he did the finger point while staring straight ahead.

you almost broke his finger.

you handed him the thing and he went “mhm”

changbin at least can get a nice tone on for FUCK’s sake. “y/n, sorry, could you get me the…?” it’s every ten minutes. you catch him looking a little guilty sometimes, mayb he knows they’re all overusing you, but then five minutes later he’s doing it again because his brain is fried and your help is nice.

han says thank you at least. he, compared to the others, lowkey leaves you alone. but that’s compared to the others. he still needs this and that and oh also—

felix really likes calling for you. sometimes he adds a tiny “sorry for bothering you again” but then asks for thirty things at once after that.

seungmin takes what you give him and barely look up, but god forbid you’re two steps too slow. he’ll just exhale hard through his nose. he’s on your dick just as much as the rest, just quieter about it.

“y/n…” jeongin mumbles at first, then if you take too long he gets this little smirk. “y/n, you sleeping or what?” he gon get his arm broken very soon, you’re capable of many things. whoop foreshadowing.

anyways, one time he called your name four times in a row because he couldn’t find his own fucking socks and when you finally found them he went “wow you’re slow today” you wanted to stuff the socks in his mouth.

you’ll be in the middle of fixing something on hyunjin(he’s a bitch but still lets you this close to him, says a lot tbh) and chan will call from across the room “y/n, timing?” and han will chime in “y/n i need my phone” and suddenly it’s a chorus of your name from eight different directions.

y/n.

y/n.

y/n.

yeah it’s not rare that you get called for from multiple directions at the same time.

take it when hyunjin and changbin both go y/n at the exact same second.

hyunjin’s voice is already pissy because his shirt collar is sitting weird. “y/n, fix this, it’s choking me.”

changbin is just as demanding but has a nicer tone to it. “y/n… sorry, can you pass me the throat spray? my voice feels off.”

you freeze for half a second while both of them stare at you expecting you to split in two.

hyunjin clicks his tongue. “well?”

you end up tossing the spray to changbin first because he was nicer about it, then you’re on hyunjin adjusting his stupid pretty collar while he looks down at you.

“faster.” he mutters. you want to bite his neck. not in the sexual way. you actually want to rip his veins out.

you two lowk like each other.

then chan. “y/n, is my laptop there?” lee know just lifts one hand lazily without even looking up. “water.” han is waving at you with that big smile that hides how tired he is. “y/n, my protein bar, the chocolate one!” felix raises his hand too “yo y/n, any chance you got my phone?“ seungmin next “y/n, mind grabbing me a coffee? black, thanks.” and jeongin is peeking from behind his phone. “y/n? can you check if my shoes are laced right? feels weird.” he could do it himself, mind you. he just likes to slave you around. all eight do.

all eight. at once. you’re one woman. you have two hands and one brain that’s currently dying.

when y’all have somewhere to be, every five minutes someone needs something. “y/n, my earphones are tangled.” hyunjin, pissy. “y/n, do we have any gum?” felix. “y/n, what time are we arriving again?” chan. lee know doesn’t even say your name, he just looks at you and you already know, water. han is the only one who adds a cute “please” most times, but even he piles on. changbin tries to be independent, at least. seungmin throws a “y/n, charger?” your way. jeongin entertains himself, he’s usually not that big of a problem when you’re out.

one night after a crazy schedule when all of them are quiet for once, changbin murmurs a “y/n, my neck hurts, any painkillers?” and “y/n—” “y/n—” “y/n, me too actually—” “yeah, if you have extra.”

you had to take the deepest breath. you’ll be a good mother after all this practice at least.

but let’s be real, after all this time and you not quitting, the hoes started to slowly trust you.

not in the let’s be besties way, but they know they can count on y/n.

they stop watching you like a hawk when you hold their phones. they leave expensive watches and half used shit on tables and don’t triple check if you moved anything. they even complain about managers infront of you sometimes.

they know you won’t fuck them over.

the biggest change happened because of chan.

it was genuinely a disaster of a night. everything went to shit. at 1:17am he pulled out his phone, texted you that he needs help with something. dorm if you can.

and you went because you’re a damn good assistant. security also let you through because apparently chan had already cleared it.

he opened their door in a black hoodie and sweats, hair so cute, looking equal parts grateful and dead. but he was really, really, really relieved to see you. “come in. sorry it’s a mess.”

it was messy, but sure, they’re men.

andyou spent the whole night at their tiny dining table with him. everything work related was on the table. chan was surprisingly open once the door was closed.

you even massaged his shoulders for ten minutes when he looked close to death. he kept muttering “thanks… seriously y/n” every hour or so. woah, gratitude we see there?

he really needed you that night. he needed the help he doesn’t usually take.

then jeongin’s little bitchass walked out of his room around 3:30am wearing nothing but black boxers, hair sticking up everywhere, half asleep and scratching his stomach.

he just gave you a lazy little slap on the arm as he passed. “hey, y/n.” he mumbled, walking weird(nothing happened, men just walk weird sometimes we know that), drank a huge glass of water, then casually walked back to his room.

your mouth went dry. he looked so hot.

chan just shook his head.

you powered through. by 6am chan had everything solid.

he told you to “go home. take the whole day off tomorrow— today. whatever. you earned it. i’ll tell management.” you tried to argue but he just shook his head. “no. sleep.” like okay dada.

each of the others had their opinions of this night, of course. most of the disagreement was pointed towards chan, not you. it was chan who let staff this close into their finally earned personal space, and you were just doing your job. but just again, this was most. the ones who think less in general, felix for an example, or seungmin but he does use his brain, those were the ones who did feel a little bit different about you.

but even they got over it because they have bigger shit to deal with.

plus… you’re actually fun to be around.

they realized that.

chan, after that all nighter, looks at you with actual respect. you’re not just staff anymore but someone who has his back, even though you’re doing it because you get paid for it.

“y/n, handle this for me?” and you do, because you’re reliable as fuck and he knows. you’re pretty much the only staff member who doesn’t make his head hurt.

then one afternoon you were sitting on a couch and… minho sat down next to you? like so next to you that his whole thick sidewas pressed up against yours. thigh to thigh, arm to arm, everything.

and he talked to you??? “i don’t like this schedule.” he muttered. “they keep adding shit. you notice that too?” you nodded like a dumbass and he kept going, complaining about this and that.

five whole minutes of lee know having a conversation while basically cuddling you on a tiny couch. you didn’t move. you didn’t breathe too loud. when he finally got up he just gave you one nod and left. your leg was asleep for twenty minutes after. men are disgustingly hot.

all because he saw that chan put trust in you.

changbin has straight up adopted you. he follows you around whenever he’s not needed, chatting about random stuff just to talk to you. other staff have literally gotten used to seeing the two of you walking side by side down every corridor.

you’re delivering papers? he’s right there beside you, chatting. you’re grabbing coffee for everyone? he tags along carrying one cup just to talk.

hyunjin started this disgusting new habit where he’ll stress eat half a fucking sandwich, or a granola bar, or some random pastry, then shove the sad remains straight into your hand.

“here. it’s yours now.”

one time it was a half eaten banana and he just pressed the mushy end into your palm while looking you dead in the eye.

“finish it.”

you stood there holding warm banana goo wondering how the fuck your life got to this point.

you were starving though. his saliva didn’t even taste that bad.

one night, like really late night when the others were still recording in the booth and you were sitting in the couch of that room, han just… sat in your lap??

“y/n, bounce me.”

so you kept talking to another staff member while you had your arms around the man and bounced your knees up and down. his ass was warm and heavy and every bounce made your thighs burn.

the unprofessional ever.

he enjoyed it though and that’s what matters. (this action will have consequences ahh)

one evening felix texted you saying he needed help with some paperwork shit at the dorm because he was too wiped to think straight. other staff usually deal with it for him but this time they shoved it into his hands and he had to take it home.

anyways. when you were there you made the mistake of saying “that shirt looks nice on you” professionally!!

felix paused, looked down at it, then just peeled it off right there, tossed it at your face and said “keep it.”

you caught it on instinct, fabric still warm from his body, and stood there holding a shirt worth a kidney.

seungmin usually keeps his distance but one night he was heading down to grab late night food for the boys. he asked the boys first, the usual, then turned to you. “y/n, you want anything?”

you stopped. seungmin remembering the staff exists? seungmin offering?

you muttered something about candy and he nodded, came back twenty minutes later with your little chocolate bar.

you’d been promoted from staff to lowkey pet.

some night you had to stand outside with some important smoking higher people while the boys were indoors, it was freezing. jeongin noticed from the window, disappeared for thirty seconds, then came out and draped his own jacket over your shoulders with a friendly smile. you thanked him hundreds of times but he just waved you off and went back inside. he jacket smelled like him. boy sweat, cologne, whatever detergent they use with chan. your mouth watered a little remembering the boxers incident. men make you feral.

as long as you’re around, shit runs smoother.

you’re just trying not to moan out loud when another one of them does something intimate while calling your name for the hundredth time that day.

fucking men. fucking hoes.

fucking unbelievable.

fucking sweet.

you’re back in chan and jeongin’s dorm again, way past midnight , because apparently “just one more hour of reviewing this” turned into “let’s camp out until the sun comes up.”

jeongin is already passed out in his room.

the whole situation screams unprofessional from every angle. you, sitting on the floor next to chan’s bed with your laptop balanced on your knees while he sits in his gaming chair, elbows on the desk, staring at his own screen.

the room smells like him. you like it.

you’re in your boss’s bedroom at 2am helping him work. assistant duties, sure. but still. hope we can all see what’s up.

chan rubs his eyes with one big hand and sighs. “y/n… you any good with this negotiation shit?”

you stretch your back. “yeah, i’m decent. learned a bunch from the last company i was at. act like you’re doing them a favor. also i’m good at reading between the lines on email tone, when they’re bluffing, when they’re actually pissed, that kinda thing.”

he nods, listening.

“honestly, i’m good at a lot of shit.” you say. “i know, uuh, spreadsheets, schedules, calming down people, giving killer blowjobs when the situation calls for it.”

the second the words leave your mouth your soul leaves your body.

you slap both hands over your face. “oh my god, chan, i’m so fucking sorry. that was disgusting. i was joking. i’m just exhausted, my brain’s not working, please pretend i didn’t say that. holy shit i wanna die.”

he stares at you for a second, then lets out this little surprised laugh, shoulders shaking a little. that whole combo looks good on him.

“fuck, okay. it’s fine, y/n. really. we’re both running on no sleep. don’t worry about it. shit slips out.” chuckling a little, eyes crinkling at the corners. “didn’t expect that one, though.”

you nod fast, mumble a “heh yeah mhm” face burning, wanting to disappear, and force your eyes back to your screen.

the silence that follows feels different than before.

minutes tick by. you’re both typing again, but the energy in the room has changed. bad. human energy. physical.

chan keeps glancing over.

then he clears his throat. “y/n.”

you look up. you know you’re going to get fired in this saint second.

“would you… be down for it?”

huh?

“down for what?”

he exhales through his nose, he can’t believe he’s saying this out loud. “the blowjob.” and immediately he leans back, hands coming up. “fuck, sorry, that came out wrong. i didn’t mean to make it weird, this is so unprofessional, i’m your boss basically, we’re both tired, this is crossing every line, i haven’t had any action in months and i’m tired, just forget i said anything—”

“sure.”

“sure?”

you swallow. “i mean… yeah. if you want. we can keep it professional. i’m offering to help because it’s my job. i don’t mind helping. really. like no weirdness after. or any attachment if that’s what you’re afraid of. just… relief. like the other stuff i do for you guys. we both know this stays between us.”

he watches you for a long time, searching your face. making sure you’re not fucking with him.

holy shiiiiit.

the leader in him is clearly fighting the man who’s been running on stress for months.

finally his eyebrows move lower on his face. he looks so good. “you sure? i don’t want you feeling like you have to. if it’s a hard no, say it. we go back to work and pretend this conversation never happened.”

you nod, setting your laptop aside on the bed. “i’m sure. we’re both adults. you trust me enough to let me in here. i trust you enough to keep it between us. it’s just… helping. professionally, i guess.”

chan rubs his face with both hands, then drops them, looking at you with disbelief. “fuck. okay. yeah. if you’re really down… that would actually be… shit, i don’t even know how to say it without sounding like an asshole.”

he shifts in the chair, the move making his sweats pull tighter across his lap. you don’t let your eyes drop there. not yet.

“i want to, chan. shut up and let your assistant help.”

“alright. if you’re sure.”

you nod, heart racing, moving toward him on the floor.

the air between you crackles with how fucking human and inevitable this whole thing is.

wait, no, i meant to say professional.

totally fucking professional.

he watches you approach, throat working as he swallows. hot. “y/n…”

“mm?”

“thank you. seriously.”

you smile, sweet, beautiful, even as you settle down between his spread legs. “anytime, chan. now relax and let me do my job.”

the laptop screen glows behind him, forgotten. for the first time in weeks, mr leader looks like he actually feels something besides depression.

you keep your voice to a whisper, soft and comforting, you’re so good at it. “it’s okay. you’ve been so wound up. let me take care of it.”

his eyes are locked on yours, and now you can actually feel them do something to you. you can already see the outline of him straining against the front of his sweats, tented up nice and obvious now, the shape of his cock pushing forward cuz it’s been trying to wave hello after you two danced around the idea for ten whole minutes.

you drag one finger in slow, lazy circles on the inside of his thigh. god, that’s a muscle there. up and down.

“that’s it.” you whisper. “just let it happen. you’re safe with me tonight.”

he lets out a low, shaky breath through his nose, thighs spreading wider. the outline gets thicker, harder, the head of him nudging more obviously against the fabric until the whole thing is basically throbbing there, begging.

you keep circling that finger, pressing a little firmer each time, watching the way his cock jumps every time you get close but never quite touch it yet.

when he’s fully hard, cock standing so stiff it’s almost pathetic how it strains the waistband of his sweats, a tiny wet spot already forming where the tip is leaking, you finally hook your fingers into the elastic. slow as fuck. you tug the sweats down his hips inch by inch, letting them bunch around his cute ankles. his boxer briefs come next, black and snug, the front stretched obscenely over the fat length of him. you peel those down too, careful, watching his cock spring free and slap up against his stomach with a soft, heavy sound.

and jesus fucking christ.

he’s big. not porn star ridiculous ofc, but real man big. thick, veiny, kind of cock that makes your mouth water. like wdym your boss has been packing this the whole time? the head is flushed, already shiny with pre cum beading at the slit. his balls are heavy underneath, drawn up tight from how turned on he is, nestled in a bush of dark pubes that get light when going up his pretty little stomach. makes your stomach flip.

“y/n… shit, i haven’t had time to, i’m not really shav—”

you press a finger to your lips, a soft shh, then slide a hand up his thigh and squeeze the thick muscle there, reassuring. “don’t. seriously. it’s fine. you’re perfect like this.”

you don’t mind. you expected it. this man barely has time to sleep, let alone shave his junk.

his eyes go wide.

hungry.

that little thing, you telling him he’s perfect just changed something in his dumb man brain and now he’s stupidly, suddenly attracted to you in a way that goes waaaay past professional relief. not just attracted, attached.

his cock twitches hard in the air between you, confirming it, another bead of pre sliding down the shaft.

you spit into your palm. lands loud in the quiet room. not so ladylike but after all it is, because you use it to wrap your hand around the base of him. slow. so fucking slow. feels so funny. in the hot way.

you stroke up from the root all the way to the head, thumb swirling over the leaking tip to spread everything nice and slick. down again, twisting your wrist a little, spreading your spit around, feeling the way his pubes tickle the side of your hand on every pass.

chan’s head falls back against the chair. he lets out these low little sounds. guttural might be the best word. a deep “mmph” when you squeeze tighter on the upstroke. a shaky exhale that turns into a quiet little groan when you drag your thumb right under the head where he’s most sensitive. his balls are basically in love with you.

you keep it slow, just learning the shape of him, the way his cock pulses in your grip, learning how he’s built.

work’s gonna be real difficult after this, knowing the exact shape of your boss’ cock, but whatever. now’s not the time to think about that.

another spit, right onto the head this time, and you spread it with your palm, making everything messy.

looks obscene. looks like him.

he’s leaking constantly now, precum mixing with your spit and dripping down over your knuckles.

you twist your hand on the way back up, firm, perfect, and chan’s hips jerk once, oh fuck he didn’t mean to, a “fuck”slipping out.

you keep going like that. long strokes. base to tip. tip to base. sometimes you pause at the head and just milk him with your thumb and fingers, watching more pre ooze out. sometimes you roll his balls gently in your other hand, feeling how full they are, how manly.

every sound he makes is quiet but real, that’s why it’s so hot, low grunts, shaky sighs, the occasional deep something in his chest that you can’t quite identify. his hands are gripping the arms of the chair.

you glance up at him every few strokes, catching the way his jaw clenched, eyes half lidded, so so so hot, and fixed on your hand working him, that beautiful face flushed and fucked up already.

he looks like he came six fucking times already and you’ve barely even started. he looks fucking gone. the outline in his pants was nothing compared to the real thing, big, heavy in your hand, twitching and leaking.

shit, like he hasn’t been touched in months.

chan lets out another quiet groan, hips shifting, moving up into your hand. his cock is flushed darker now, veins standing out, the head glossy and swollen. beautiful.

you squeeze his thigh again with your free hand, comforting, and he melts a little more into the chair, another “mmh…” escaping him.

you’re really fucking good at this.

you keep stroking him slowly and slick for a few more (torturous) seconds, watching his cock live in your fist, veins bulging, the head shiny and leaking. chan’s thighs are tense as fuck around you, muscles flexing in pleasure. his breathing is rough, the low grunts turning into shaky little huffs that he’s clearly trying to keep quiet because jeongin is still in the building.

you lean in closer, spit one more onto the tip. it lands and slides down the shaft, mixing with all the pre already dripping everywhere.

then you finally stop the foreplay.

you take him into your mouth.

the second your lips wrap around the swollen head chan has to take a biiiig breath, head tilted back, his mouth shut, teeth gritted.

you sink down fast, taking as much of his thick cock as you can in one go, lips hugging the girth. so snug. half his length disappears into your (hot, wet) mouth and you hollow your cheeks immediately, wow, sucking like you’re trying to pull the stress right out of his balls.

chan’s hand flies to the back of your head, then leaves it because he remembers you’re his assistant, and flies to the chair instead. his hips thrust up, chasing you, and you let him, relaxing your throat so another inch slides in.

his eyes actually cross.

the head bumps the back of your throat and you swallow around him, throat muscles struggling, but still milking the tip. spit is already pouring out the corners of your mouth, dripping down his shaft and soaking into the dark pubes at the base. you don’t care. you bob your head, then again, and again, sloppy and greedy(for your boss’ cock), gluck gluck gluck.

chan has to breathe with his mouth open to bear with the pleasure.

every time you pull back you swirl your tongue around the head, sucking hard on the sensitive underside before diving back down, nose pressing into his pubes on the deepest strokes.

it’s so obscene. so filthy. has that human smell that’s almost disgusting but more hot.

his balls are right there, heavy(makes him even hotter in your eyes), so you reach up with one hand and roll them gently, fingers slipping through the soft hair covering them, tugging, massaging, making his cock jump in your mouth.

the sounds he’s making are pure porn.

“y/n… fuck— y/n—”

music. to. your. fucking. ears.

it’s the only opinion he can get out. pure disbelief that his quiet, sweet little assistant is sucking his soul out through his dick like a pro. where the fuck did you learn to do this? the question is written all over his fucked face, but all that comes out is another desperate “y/n… shit—”

you hum around him. his cock twitches violently on your tongue, another thick spurt of pre flooding your mouth. you swallow it down greedily, moaning softly so he feels it, then pull off just long enough to spit on him again. messy, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his glistening cock, so unprofessional(well no fucking shit), before you dive back in even harder.

you’re giving him your best. head bobbing fast and sloppy, one hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach, twisting. the other hand keeps playing with his balls, feeling how full and heavy they are, how the skin wrinkles under your fingers.

spit is everywhere. dripping down your chin, running down his shaft, soaking his pubes.

every time you take him deep your throat makes these disgusting gurgling noises and chan’s thighs start shaking around your shoulders.

he’s panting now, chest heaving under his hoodie, head thrown back against the chair. his whines are getting higher, god, he can’t believe how good it feels.

his cock is rock hard and pulsing, the head basically exploding in pleasure everytime it hits the back of your throat. you suck harder, cheeks hollowed, tongue working the underside.

good little assistant you are.

you pull off for a second to catch your breath, strings of thick spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock. you stroke him fast with your slick hand, watching the way his balls tighten even more, the way his pubes are soaked and clinging to his skin. then you lean down and take him back down, burying your nose in his pubes until your throat is bulging around him.

chan is gone. completely gone. not here anymore. his whines turn into these animal groans that he tries to muffle with his fist, but they still leak out.

you go faster now. sloppier. throat relaxing so you can take him even deeper, nose grinding into him. spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth and drips onto his balls. your hand keeps working the base, stroking in time with your mouth, squeezing. his cock is so wet it sounds disgusting, loud, wet, filthy sucking noises that would be embarrassing if either of you gave a single fuck right now.

his thighs are trembling hard around you. his abs are clenching under the hoodie.

you look up at him through wet lashes, eyes watering from how deep you’re taking him, and the sight of the big strong leader completely dying because of your mouth is enough to make you moan around his cock.

you feel the power of your situation. your jaw is starting to ache but you don’t care. you love it. you love how his thighs are shaking around your shoulders, how his balls feel in your palm, how every time you pull off for a breath a string of spit connects your swollen lips to his glistening cock and he stares down at you like he’s seeing god.

he’s leaking so much it’s constant now, salty and warm and kinda ew, sliding down your throat while you moan around him because you’re so fucking turned on it hurts.

you feel powerful. you feel wanted. you feel the stress melting out of his body.

he doesn’t want this to end, but he’s so close that it might very soon. because you’re that good.

that’s why his hips don’t stop twitching, squirming around, and his thighs spread more, trembling, and that “y/n… y/n…” turns into one long moan.

you push deeper, swallowing around him, throat squeezing tight as the first thick rope of cum shoots down your throat. it’s hot, salty, a lot, months of stress and no release all pouring out in wild spurts that you swallow greedily, cheeks hollowed, eyes watering you keep sucking through it, milking him with your mouth and hand while he cums and cums and cums like he’s never going to stop. doesn’t taste that good but you’re just doing your job, aren’t you, y/n?

“y/n— fuck— y/n—” his voice is so fucking whiny it makes your pussy clench.

you take every twitch, every throb, every spurt as it coats your tongue and slides down. your toes are curled. the musky smell of him mixed with fresh cum is so filthy and human it makes your head spin.

you keep working him through the whole thing, slow and gentle now, sucking softly on the sensitive head while the last weak pulses dribble onto your tongue.

his cock is twitching, now just half hard, shiny and messy with spit and cum when you finally pull off. sounds wet. a string of saliva and semen connects your swollen lips to his tip for a second before it breaks and drips onto his balls.

you swallow one last time, then back on your heels, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “all done, boss.”

chan’s slumped in the chair, chest heaving, eyes half lidded and kinda crossed??, mouth open. he looks like he doesn’t know whether to propose or cry.

he sighs. reaches down slowly, tucking his spent, spit shiny cock back into his boxers with shaky hands, then yanks his sweats up over his hips. the wet spot on the front is lame. funny. then sits there for a second, rebooting.

then he stands up on slightly unsteady legs, runs a hand through his messy hair, and mutters “i’m… gonna take a quick shower. you can go home. i mean— fuck, not like i’m sending you home, god no, i’m not that much of an asshole. i just… you’ve been here all night, you should rest—”

“i know what you mean. it’s okay. i’ll head out.” voice sweet and professional like you didn’t just swallow his load two minutes ago.

he nods, relief and some emotional dilema on his face. he looks like he wants to say something bigger but doesn’t know how. instead he just says “do you want tomorrow off? you earned it. more than earned it.”

you shake your head, standing up and smoothing your clothes. “no, i’m good. i’ll see you. don’t worry about me.”

he watches you gather your stuff for a second, then nods.

you slip out of the apartment as quietly as you can.

your lips feel swollen, your jaw aches, and you can still taste him. your panties are soaked through, thighs sticky, and your brain is a mess of what the fuck did i just do and holy shit that was hot.

back inside, chan stands under the shower for a long time, hot water pounding on his shoulders, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his you, his assistant, just got on her knees and sucked him dry.

he keeps thinking of the way you looked up at him, the way you swallowed everything, the little cheeky “all done, boss” after. god, that was hot. cherry on fucking top.

his chest feels tight. it has nothing to do with the orgasm and everything to do with how much he suddenly wants to pull you close and make you his girl. and with the stress and anxiety, of course. how will tomorrow go? will you act normal? how will the boys find out? ugh. he might just go and cuddle up next to jeongin in hopes of getting some comfort, for fuck’s sake.

and… oh my god, you’re back at it the next day like nothing happened, running around. like, for all eight of them again. y/n get this, y/n fix that strap, y/n where’s my fucking charger, y/n my coffee’s cold.

y/n you deserve a month off. a year. a life. respect to you.

and you and chan are scarily professional. no signs. no weird eye contact, no blushing, nothing. wow.

you hand him something and he says “thanks” you fix something on him and he just nods.

but there’s this new tension in the air that the other seven clock immediately.

chan is… softer. more boy than man. or maybe more man than boy. his shoulders aren’t as locked up. that’s good. he laughs a little quicker at han’s dumb jokes. and his eyes keep flicking to you when you’re across the room, then away. he even says “take it easy today, y/n” once in passing, and you smile at him like you didn’t have his cock down your throat eight hours ago.

the boys aren’t stupid. they’ve known chan for years, we know that. they can read that man easily.

so the second they’re alone, one of the bigger studio rooms or green rooms or whatever after the afternoon schedule, doors shut, no staff, just the eight of them sprawled on couches...

“okay what the fuck is up with you and y/n?” han asks legs kicked up on the coffee table. “did something happen?”

chan freezes mid sip of his water. “what? no. shut up.”

hyunjin leans forward. “no, something’s up. are you okay?”

chan rubs his face, puts the water down. he keeps glancing at the door. “it’s not— look, it’s nothing. we’re fine. drop it.”

changbin watches him. “you know you can tell us.”

“no, it’s not about y/n.”

“then?”

chan groans, head falling back against the couch. he’s quiet for a long minute, jaw working, chewing on his mouth, clearly fighting with himself. plus he just lied about it not being about you. fuck.

the silence is killing them.

“…y/n blew me, okay?”

dead silence.

“like..?” han mumbles, grabbing imaginary hair in front of him and thrusting his hips forward into the air like he’s face fucking someone.

hyunjin watches. giggles. says “like..?” and tilts his head back, opens his mouth wide, and jerks both hands up and down like he’s milking a cock into an open mouth. “like this?” his voice is so cute, giggling, laughing, smiling ear to ear. he’s beautiful.

“like..?” felix pokes his tongue hard into his cheek so it bulges out while he jacks the air next to his face with one hand.

“like..?” changbin twists both hands in the air like he’s gripping a thick shaft, then leans forward and makes loud sucking noises above it, hollowing his cheeks, eyes big and looking up at chan while he does the most pornographic blowjob mime you’ve ever seen. “mmh… mmh… like this? deepthroat?”

“like..?” jeongin smirks and makes a fist, then bobs his head down on it fast while making exaggerated gagging sounds. “y/n taking the whole thing?“

“like..?” seungmin leans back and acts like he’s holding a hair above his crotch, pulling the imaginary hair up and down.

minho giggles out loud. “like..?” then starts thrusting up into the air, holding himself up with his back on the couch he’s sitting on.

chan buries his face in his hands, ears red.

they’re all laughing their fuckasses off but are also genuinely shocked. like did this really happen? in their years of careers this actually happened? to chan??

“no fucking way—”

“how the hell did she take you?”

“you didn’t tell us?”

“did she swallow?”

“was it good?”

chan groans. head in his hands. “yes, okay? it was… fuck, it was insane.” he slaps his face with the two hands holding it up. “she’s really good at it. i didn’t even know… i still don’t know how. and we’re keeping it professional. it was just… stress relief. one time. that’s it. i asked her for it and she said yes.”

the room goes quiet.

then han starts thrusting into the air again, laughing in chan’s face.

felix pokes his tongue in his cheek again, then pulling it away and poking it back really fast, going into chan’s face.

changbin is screaming laughing, still twisting the air. minho can’t breathe and keeps slapping changbin’s shoulders as he twists around from silent laughter.

“and you did that next to me?” jeongin whines but he’s smiling ear to ear. he’s so entertained.

“when’s my turn?“ hyunjin asks.

chan throws a pillow at him. “shut the fuck up. none of you say shit to her. i’m serious. this stays here.”

they all nod, still laughing, still processing. they’re shocked as fuck. horny. jealous. proud. men.

and now every single one of them is now lowkey wondering how the fuck they can get on your good side next.

and boom, they’re suddenly… nicer. not in a fake polite way. in a scary, intentional, grown man way. suddenly, they’re not huge assholes.

minho sits next to you again. and again. and again. always watching you talk, chin in his palm usually, nodding along, smiling, laughing with you. what the fuck.

changbin finds you on the halls again. “y/n, how long have you been doing this kind of work? do you like it? does it get exhausting dealing with us all day?” his pretty eyes focused on your face. when you say it can be hard, he smiles and says “you’re really good at it. we notice, you know.” then he lightly bumps your shoulder with his. you notice that too.

hyunjin actually waits until you’re close and gently tugs your sleeve. “y/n. come here for a second.” when you step closer he holds out his iced coffee like an offering. “taste this. too sweet again?” you take a sip and he watches your mouth the whole time, eyes intense. baby stop. “hm. ‘kay.” then he gives you this tiny half smile and walks off. you stand there blinking like he just grew a second head.

han full on grabs your arm during break, tugging you over to the couch he’s sitting on. “y/n sit with me for a bit. my shoulders are bad from yesterday, can you press here?” he makes you touch him.

felix leans against the wall next to you during a break, not in the cringe way but in that boyish loose way that’s so ggrgrghghh, sipping his drink, and goes “so what do you do when you’re not running after us? any hobbies? boyfriend? …no? hm.”

seungmin also uses the digging technique first. “you got family around here? siblings? what made you want to work in this industry?” he asks you. listens. anything for his dick tbh, even though your answers aren’t boring.

jeongin usually smiles ear to ear when he gets close to you, using his voice. using it good. or asks you to pass things that are literally in fucking arm reach, putting his fingers on yours purposely. his best attempt at flirting.

and chan is trying so fucking hard. he’s professional, respectful, gives you space… but his eyes follow you constantly.

“y/n, thanks.” “y/n, good job.” oh suddenly he can be grateful.

when no one’s watching he squeezes your shoulder gently, even.

uhuh there goes being professional and he knows that.

why isn’t he stopping himself? why can’t he listen to his brain when it’s about something this important? it was a one time thing. fuck.

the way they’re all suddenly tugging your arm, asking about your life, watching your mouth when you talk, finding excuses to be close… it’s too coordinated. too on purpose. too curious. too hungry. too boy.

you have a pretty strong guess that chan cracked and told them at least some version of what happened that night.

the thought makes your face hot every time one of them calls your name now because now it feels meant. like they’re all imagining the same thing.

and they’re so good at it. these are grown men who’ve spent years charming fans, interviewers, sponsors. they know exactly how to act, what to say. they learned this.

they’re doing this to get something. it’s lowkey mind games. that’s their whole life already.

because they’re wondering the same thing. if she did that for chan… what would she do for me?

plus they value chan so much that the fact he let you that close somehow makes you… safe. approved. part of the inner circle now. it’s weirdly sweet when we ignore the fact that they’re only doing it to get some game too.

my actual respect goes for the way they’re still pros on the surface, perfect smiles for cameras or other people, flawless interviews and public presence, but the second the staff clears out or the doors close, you’re left and their imagination of the position you sucked chan off with.

but around you, so unprofessional.

which is horrible, but they keep doing it.

minho actually contains himself, kind of. just sometimes puts an arm behind you when sitting with you on a couch. testing how you’d feel under him. or he’ll press his palm flat against your waist to gently move you aside when he wants something from the table behind you. like hello to you too daddy.

changbin catches you in the hallway, gently grabs your waist to turn you toward him. “y/n, wait, can you—” all the time. he’s wondering how you’d look looking up at him with those same helpful eyes while your mouth is full.

you’re helping hyunjin adjust his collar(it’s the fucking stylists’ job, why did he demand you to do it?) when his hand slides around your waist from behind, holding onto you.

“tighter on the left.” he mutters.

when you’re finished he gives your waist a tiny squeeze before letting go.

han actually gives you hugs now. like a saying hi hug in the mornings which always he initiates. hugging just to touch, no emotion behind it. it’s unprofessional and annoying. he’s not a smart man but has a goal now. he’s interested and so is something else on him.

felix keeps it casual. he leans in while you’re handing him water, but leans in on purpose. “thanks, y/n.” oh hello getting polite aren’t we.

seungmin is not touchy. respect tbh.

not like jeongin, who tugs you by the waist constantly now. “y/n, come here real quick.” wants his dick sucked NOW.

and they’re talking to you more than ever. and they exchange the information they got. they are standing on business. they’re horny boys first, idols second right now.

plus they can see that the energy between you and chan is thick as fuck now. he texts you more, he lets you into his space easier. during a late rehearsal he pulls you aside and tells you “that night, it helped. a lot. more than you know.”

the tension is there, but nothing sexual has happened again. yet. he’s holding back, trying to be professional, but you can feel how bad he wants more.

too bad the other seven want a piece of whatever chan got that night.

felix is the straighest about it. during a break he leans in, eyes dragging over you, slowly(he was trained to do this), and goes “you look good today, y/n. really good.” it sounds friendly on the surface, like a casual compliment, but the way his gaze lingers on your lips and then drops to your chest makes it anything but. he smiles after, boyish, beautiful, like he didn’t just eye fuck you in broad daylight. waiter waiter a whole box of xanax please

the others are sneakier but still deeply unprofessional and they know it. they ask about your life like they’re actually interested, but the questions always have this undertone now. because they just want your body.

minho sits next to you again, thigh pressed to yours DADA, and has actual conversations. “you like taking care of people, huh?” he says, eyes on your face. then, quieter, “must feel good when someone takes care of you back.” he wants to be the one making you feel good.

changbin is with you in the hallway again. “do you ever get lonely? with how much we keep you running around? you deserve someone who takes care of you too, you know.”

hyunjin keeps shoving half eaten shit into your hands but now he watches your mouth when you eat it. “good?” he asks. yeah sure whatever dude pull the willy out if you want it sucked so bad.

han once asks “you got any plans after schedule? maybe we could hang… talk more.” ??? the unprofessional ever.

seungmin asked you one day “you ever think about what you want outside of work? like… personal stuff?” the way he looked at you when he said “personal” made it clear he was imagining you spread out and moaning someone’s name. probably his.

once when the boys were talking, jeongin turned to you and asked “you, y/n? what do you do for release?” he clearly could have said to unwind or something, and he makes that known with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows too. fucking hell.

and you can tell chan is fighting with himself sometimes.

he’ll be in the middle of a conversation with you, genuinely business shit, and then something will run across his face. a tiny frown, a quick glance away, the responsible leader part of his brain is yelling “what the fuck are you doing, she’s staff” while the rest of him is just glad you exist. glad he has you. glad there’s someone who saw him at his really stressed and still chose to help without making it weird after.

most of the time the glad part wins. he lets you closer now.

the other seven? they don’t have that conflict.

they just want to hit.

bad.

they want to know what that mouth feels like. what those hands would do if they asked nicely (or not so nicely). they want to see if their sweet little assistant would get on her knees for them too, if she’d moan their name if it cane to that.

it’s horny, selfish, and they know all of them are on the same page. chan’s always so done with them when the topic comes to this.

and oh, hyunjin, the evil shit.

he waits until changbin mentions during lunch that he’s sleeping over at chan and jeongin’s dorm tomorrow night. boys are so cute when they’re excited about their little sleepovers. like aw they planned it one day sooner. hyune just nods and says nothing.

next day, after the evening schedule wraps, hyunjin finds you alone in the hallway while you’re packing up something.

he tugs your arm, pulls you closer than necessary, and says “y/n. come over tonight.”

“to yours?”

“yeah. changbin’s gone. it’ll just be me. i need help with something. personal. you know how it is.”

he doesn’t say it outright but the implication is thick as fuck. he waited until his own roommate, his best friend, was safely out of the picture. didn’t even hint to changbin. didn’t mention it to chan. just saw his opening and took it like the selfish pretty bitch he is. it’s an asshole move, one hundred percent. but hyunjin doesn’t care right now. he wants his turn. he wants to see if you’ll help him the way you helped chan.

you stand there, heart hammering, because you know exactly what he’s asking. he doesn’t know you know.

and you’re tempted.

and that’s how you end up at their place. well, right now just his.

you’re barely two steps inside when the door clicks shut behind you and hyunjin turns around.

oh, the lighting is actually nice. this is absolutely a nice place, fits them too, looks so good and combined with the smell of men—

“i want you to suck me off.”

you choke. your eyes go wide and you cough once, hard, hand flying up to your throat. “jesus fucking christ, hyunjin.”

“what? you did it for chan. i want it too.”

the confidence is insane.

you’re not even against it, the thought has been sitting in the back of your head ever since they all started acting weird, but jesus christ the delivery.

“okay… wow. straight to it, huh?” you mumble.

“why drag it out?” he says, already walking past you toward the couch. “we both know why you’re here. you’re not stupid. i’m not stupid.” he drops onto the couch, legs spread. “you can have a glass of wine first if you want. there’s some. or water. whatever makes you comfortable. but i’m not waiting all night.”

you stand there blinking, mouth still a little open. the audacity is actually impressive. “right.”

“then sit down for a second. talk if you want. or don’t. i don’t care.“

you do sit, on the other end of the couch, legs crossed, trying to act like this is a normal conversation. you talk a little about the schedules, how tired everyone looks, how you noticed they’ve all been… different lately.

hyunjin listens, nodding once or twice, but his eyes keep dropping to your lips. he’s not subtle. he clearly gives zero fuck about your feelings and wants his cock sucked like yesterday.

he’s straining against his jeans, god, but also… there’s this… romantic tension radiating off him. or maybe it’s leaning into the sexual territory too, but it is romantic, somewhere. both of you know something is about to go down and both of you know the other knows.

after a few minutes you sigh, rubbing your temple. “okay. sure. i’ll do it.”

his whole face changes. not a big smile, he’s too cool for that, but his eyes light up. eyebrows go up. he’s visibly more excited. “yeah?”

“yeah. just… keep it between us.”

“obviously.”

fucking liar.

okay both of you know chan did not hold his fucking mouth so saying it was straight up pointless. hyunjin seems even worse at keeping secrets, you’re putting less hope into this staying a secret than you did with chan.

but you’re just doing your job, after all. he’s your boss, up to him if he keeps it.

he yanks his belt open right then right there right away, the metal clinking and it sounds hot for some reason, then pops the button on his jeans but doesn’t push them down yet. just leaves them open, the zipper halfway down, the black waistband of his underwear already visible. he spreads his legs wider, one arm draped over the back of the couch ,and looks at you.

“come here then.”

okay. wow. right. okay. you move closer, then slowly sink down on the floor. it’s humiliating, considering he’s so above you in all aspects. that’s why it’s so hot.

the second you drop to your knees between his spread thighs his face, his expression shifts into something evil. satisfied, mostly. that beautiful smile, small, smug, evil, spreads across his pretty face.

“look at you.” he mutters.

he’s so hot it’s actually fucking unfair. like so unfair. fuck your fucking chungus life. that body relaxed on the couch like he was born to be serviced. this might be the perfect way to say it, born to be serviced. shame he’s also dumb and evil and weirdly romantic.

but right now he’s just a horny boy who waited until his roommate was gone so he could have you all to himself.

you settle between his legs, hands resting on his thighs. the denim is warm under your palms. his cock is already hard, been for a while, pushing against the black fabric, the outline calling your name. the tension in the room is stroking it by itself.

hyunjin reaches down, slow, and threads his fingers through your hair. “go on then, y/n. show me what you showed channie.”

you’re here for work.

so you lean in, breath ghosting over the bulge in his underwear, and watch the way his thighs tense under your hands and that satisfied smile spreads more. like he’s so happy that he’s smiling. it’s cute, if you think about it.

you reach up slowly, fingers helping tug the jeans down his thighs. they pool around his ankles and he kicks them off lazily, leaving him in just the black boxers that are so tented.

then you, slowly, peel those down too, his cock springs out, slapping up. makes your mouth water.

completely shaven, by the way. oiled and all this morning but wouldn’t tell a soul. prepared like a whore. knew he was gonna get his dick sucked tonight and wanted it perfect.

doesn’t care about you but gives a shit about how you experience him.

you wrap your hand around the base first, feeling him up. learning how the little guy works.

you squeeze gently, feeling the signature silky skin texture of dick, of genitals in general, slide over the hardness underneath, and hyunjin lets out this soft, breathy little sound that you’ve never heard from him before. a quiet “mmh…”

you start stroking him slow as fuck, up and down the whole length, thumb swirling over the head every time you reach the top. there’s not much pre for now, his dick isn’t as desperate as chan’s was, but you can work with anything.

you can always work with anything.

you spit into your other hand, loud and wet, and wrap it around him too, using both now, slicking him up until everything’s shiny and messy and dripping down over his bare balls. a little lube would help a lot but you won’t kill the mood now by having the audacity to ask for it.

hyunjin’s head tips back against the couch. “fuck… that’s good.” he murmurs, voice angelic. “just like that… yeah.“

he’s enjoying the hell out of it.

his balls are drawn up tight already, adorable how men’s bodies work, smooth and warm, and when you drag your fingers down to cup them he lets out another one of those pretty sounds, a quiet “ahh… shit” that makes your pussy throb because who the fuck knew evil reincarnated, hwang hyunjin(he’s not even that bad you two are just dramatic about each other) could sound like that.

you keep it torturously slow, just like you did with chan. long strokes from base to tip, twisting at the head, squeezing just right so some pre oozes out.

you lean in close enough that your breath ghosts over the wet head and hyunjin’s fingers tighten in your hair. he likes the power situation he’s in.

his cock is finally leaking now, easier to work with. slick. shiny. you can feel his heartbeat in it, pulsing under your palm, so smooth and pretty because he fucking prepared for you.

“mmh. fuck, y/n… slower for a second.” he breathes. he’s so into it his cheeks are flushed, lips parted, that pretty evil face looking soft and unreal, best word for this man, while you work him.

you slow down even more, dragging your fist up inch by inch, feeling every little part of him, all the textures he has to give you.

only if changbin knew.

you squeeze a little tighter on the upstroke and he moans. his hips thrust up into your fist, chasing the feeling, you can tell he’s a good dancer just by the way he moves his hips. how he’s rolling into your hand.

he’s enjoying this so much it’s almost sweet.

you spit on him again and keep going. slow, slick strokes. both hands working him perfectly. some spit running down your wrist.

his head stays tipped back, eyes mostly closed, mouth open to let those beautiful moans slip out.

you keep stroking him slowly with both hands(one would work too but his cock is more entertaining than his cute little balls so you took that hand up too), twisting at the head every time you reach the top.

then you lean in a little closer, part your lips, and poke your tongue out.

you swirl it around the swollen head once. the moment your tongue pushed down hyunjin gasps, “ah—!” as he snaps his head down at you, pretty face twisting into this grimace of pleasure. wasn’t really ready for how fucking good it feels.

“ah… yeah… mm—” he mumbles, hips twitching up into your fist, wanting more.

slut.

you open your mouth wider, take the head between your lips and suck, starting hard already, tongue flicking fast against the sensitive underside while your hands keep working the base in tight strokes.

his fingers tighten in your hair. his eyes close. his mouth is open.

you bob your head faster, taking him deeper with every slide, cheeks hollowing on the way up so you suck him tight and wet. also leaving spit behind so it glides smoother.

you pull off for a second just to spit on him again, then dive right back down, taking him halfway, then deeper, until the head bumps the back of your throat and you swallow around him.

he gasps, and his free hand grabs the couch cushion hard. you feel another spurt of pre cum coat in your mouth. ew but also hot.

you start a brutal rhythm, fast, sloppy, wet, head bobbing, hands twisting and stroking everything you can’t fit, sucking hard every time you pull back so your lips drag over the head. everytime you take him deep your nose presses against his skin and you can smell whatever product he used mixed with that warm musky boy scent that makes your pussy ache.

you were made for men.

hyunjin is making all these soft, breathy, pretty little sounds now that he knows he can, no one else around, no reason to stay quiet. little “ah… ahh” everytime you swallow around him, moans when you twist your hands just right, little whimpers when you suck hard on the head and swirl your tongue around the slit at the same time.

his hips start rolling up to meet your mouth, shallow little thrusts. you let him, opening your throat more, taking him deeper until your eyes water and spit runs down your chin in thick strings.

you reach down with one hand and cup his balls, rolling them gently, tugging to make him moan louder,

“ah, yes, fuck. right there—”

he looks down at you the whole time, eyes barely open, making you feel things(wtf), that pretty face flushed and grimacing with every wave of pleasure. he knew you’d be this good.

a bitch to you at work, by the way.

you pull off with a disgustingly(in the hot way) wet sound, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock, then immediately lick a long stripe from his balls all the way up to the head, then kissing back down, sucking one ball into your mouth and humming around it while your hand strokes him fast, tight.

hyunjin’s back arches off the couch, a loud moan coming out of him as his thighs flex, holding him up.

you switch to the other ball, sucking gently, tongue rolling over the silky skin, then lick back up and swallow him down again in one move.

you set a sweet little pace, deepthroating him over and over, gagging softly when he hits the back of your throat, spit and pre everywhere, dripping down your chin, soaking his balls, running down your wrist.

“ahh… mmh— god yes… just like that… you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard…” his fingers are tight in your hair, guiding you just a little, hips rolling up to fuck your mouth, kind of.

you’re so turned on it hurts.

he throws his head back, mouth open, pretty face completely twisted up as he lets every sound out. breathy moans, humiliating whimpers, everything you can imagine coming from that pretty mouth that usually just hints for you to fuck off.

you suck him like a fucking vacuum. you take him as deep as you can, relaxing your throat until the fat head pushes past a muscle ring, your nose pressed into him as you gag and choke.

hyunjin is seeing heaven.

you hold there for a second, swallowing around him, struggling to, letting your throat squeeze and milk him while your tongue works the underside as much as you can make it.

hyunjin’s hips jerk up(painful to you) and he lets out this little “ahh— fuck—!” that sounds way too pretty for how evil he usually is.

you pull back slowly, dragging your lips tight along every inch, sucking hard so his cock comes out glossy and throbbing, a string of spit and pre stretching before you dive back down, head bobbing again, gluck gluck gluck.

you gag on him on purpose sometimes, wet little chokes, makes your eyes water and spit run down your chin in rivers. everytime you do it he moans louder.

you’re doing amazing and you know it. you switch it up constantly, not keeping a pace on purpose so he won’t cum that fast, deepthroating him until your nose is buried and your throat bulges, then pulling off to focus just on the head, sucking hard and fast while your tongue flicks and swirls around the sensitive slit, lapping up every fresh bead of pre that keeps leaking out.

you spit on him again, letting it drip down his smooth shaft before you stroke it in with both hands and suck the head back into your mouth. natural talent.

hyunjin’s mouth is hanging open now, pretty face completely twisted up, one eye closed as he stares down at you.

his mouth forms this perfect little o, eyebrows furrowed. the pleasure is unbearable. the soft breathy moans turn into real loud moans.

every time you swallow him deep his voice cracks higher, prettier, more powerful, and you don’t leave him hanging.

your head bobs faster, sloppy, throat suffering around him on every downstroke while your hand twists around the base you can’t fit without pain in your throat.

you press two fingers right behind his balls, rubbing that sensitive spot, and hyunjin’s whole body jerks, mouth dropping open wider as he lets out the loudest, prettiest moan yet.

thin hot ropes of cum shoot straight down your throat. pulse after pulse. weak, kind of, not what chan had. the taste is bitter and salty and kinda gross, but you keep sucking through it, swallowing every drop because he’s hot and mean and evil and you want it.

hyunjin’s hips stutter up into your mouth, cock jerking and twitching as he keeps cumming, more and more spurts meeting your skilled tongue. his fingers are gripping your hair so tight it hurts while his balls pulse in your hand, emptying everything he’s been saving up for this.

you swallow again and again, throat working around his throbbing cock, drinking down every bitter salty spurt until he’s finally empty and oversensitive.

even then you don’t stop right away, keep sucking gently, tongue swirling softly now over the head, getting the last weak drops out while he twitches and whimpers, soft little “mmh… mmh…” sounds.

his fingers loosen in your hair, stroking through it now almost tenderly. crazy that we got here from him shoving half eaten things into your hands. what a bitch.

you finally pull off, glad for air, strings of spit and leftover cum connecting your swollen lips to his spent cock. you swallow one last time, wiping your chin with a finger.

he stares down at you, eyes blown, chest rising slowly now.

“holy… fuck.” he breathes. “you’re… actually insane at that.”

you sit back on your heels, lips shiny and puffy, wipe your spit off your chin. like you didn’t just swallow his entire load while gagging on his dick.

“told you i’d do it.”

he takes his hand from your hair to tuck his spent cock back into his boxers with those pretty fingers. he pulls his jeans up just enough to button them.

“you want me to order something? food? anything you like. or… there’s drinks in the fridge. water, juice, that wine i mentioned earlier. i can get it for you. or— fuck, you can stay a bit longer if you want. just… chill.” a little too gentle for the usual hyunjin.

your jaw aches and your panties are soaked. “tempting, but was there actually something you needed help with tonight? or did you just want your dick sucked?”

he blinks. then lets out a short, embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “…just wanted my dick sucked.”

hm. you nod, then reach up and give his thigh a comforting, very professional squeeze. “okay. then i’ll head home now. you should get some rest too.”

his face drops instantly. disappointment. those pretty eyes widen a bit, brows pulling together, mouth opening. because who the fuck is hyunjin if not the type to catch feelings the second someone drains his balls properly? he just got the best head of his life and now you’re about to leave??

“wait— already?” he looks actually… kind of lost. “you don’t have to go right now. it’s late, but… stay for a bit. we can talk or something. i’ll order food, seriously. or at least let me drive you home.”

you stand up slowly, smoothing your clothes, keeping that sweet professionalism on your face even though your legs feel a little shaky. “i know, hyunjin. but i really need to sleep. goodnight, okay? get some rest.”

he looks so fucking disappointed it’s funny.

“y/n…” he tries again, softer, romantic. “c’mon. just a little longer. i— fuck, that was really good.“

“i’m glad you liked it. but i’m going home now. sleep well.”

it hits him like ice water. as hard as the cold water was explained in titanic. you… you don’t feel the same way he does. you have no “maybe next time i’ll stay” energy coming off you or a lingering look that says you want more.

you don’t give a fuck about him.

???

this was a clear message that this was a one time service, not the start of anything. that you’re not interested in him like that. not tonight, and probably not ever.

you turn toward the door and get your shoes on before he can come up with another excuse. he stands up fast, jeans still half open, and follows you a couple steps.

so needy.

“y/n…” he starts. at the door, he’s towering over you. still radiating that post nut warmth, and for a second he looks like he really wants to kiss you. eyes dropping to your swollen lips.

you just pat his chest once, light and friendly, right over his heart. “goodnight.”

then you let yourself out the door before he can say anything else.

he’s… hurt. the dismissal? the polite squeeze on his thigh? the pat you just gave him? the way you made it crystal clear you’re not staying, not cuddling, not interested in him beyond “helping” like you helped chan?

he wants you more now. fuck.

he wants to wipe that professional little smile off your face. he wants to hear you moan his name instead of just sucking him off in silence. he wants to make you stay next time, make you beg a little, make you look at him the way you probably looked at chan that night.

(you looked at him and chan the same way when you sucked them off. unlike them, you’re actually doing this for the business)

he drops onto the couch, still smelling like spit and cum and your perfume, and stares at the ceiling.

sigh.

okay. where is his phone? on the ground. must have fallen out his pocket when he fought his pants off.(pants off. you were the reason for that. you sucked him off. wow.)

group chat with the boys it is.

hyunjin: y/n sucked me off

hyunjin: came over

hyunjin: left already

let’s quote what you two talked about before you gave him head. “yeah. just… keep it between us.” “obviously.” genuinely how men keep secrets. dearest reader, don’t trust a boy with your secrets, ever.

han: WHAT

han: ???

jeongin: bro… you waited until bin was gone??? that’s so fucking foul lmao

jeongin: but also respect

jeongin: how was it tho?? she deepthroat? swallow?

hyunjin: both

jeongin: 🤤

felix: omg what

felix: my turn when

seungmin: respect ig

minho: 😂😂😂

(he’s looking at his screen with a straight face)

chan: hyune what the fuck did you do?

changbin just seen the messages.

what’s currently happening is changbin and chan are looking at each other. chan has his eyes about to fall out of his head. changbin has his little mouth open. the shock in the air.

then jeongin comes out of his room in just boxers again, phone in hand, laughing at the two.

changbin finally closes his mouth, cheeks pink. “he didn’t even tell me he was inviting her over. that’s so mean.”

“he’s an asshole for not saying anything.” chan mutters.

and hyunjin is pissed you left so easily. pissed you didn’t stay. pissed you made it feel like just another task.

but mostly he’s horny again.

the next day, the moment you step into the practice floor, you fucking know they know.

because they’re all… calm. weirdly, suspiciously calm.

eight grown men who definitely know you sucked two of their dicks.

hyunjin is sitting against a mirror, stretching his arms overhead. when he sees you come in he lifts one hand in a cute little wave.

“morning, y/n.” the asshole.

you nod back, polite as ever. “morning.”

chan is checking something on some tablet, but when you hand him something he asked for yesterday, he looks up at you.

“thanks. you sleep okay?”

you smile. “yeah, i did. you?”

“better than usual.” then goes back to his tablet.

changbin smiles at you and bows a lil. han gives you a little “woah, you’re early today” giving you space like a respectful grown man. it’s almost scarier than when he was all over your lap. felix nods once with a small, friendly smile. jeongin looks a bit shy, smiling at you with that beautiful mouth. minho stays cool, as usual. you admire how mature he is. seungmin, mr nonchalant, takes his stuff with a neutral “thanks” y’know, the usual.

and… the day’s normal. it’s fucking eerie. “y/n, towel please.” “y/n, can you check my phone?” y/n this, y/n that.

how are you not fired yet? you had two of their dicks in your mouth. two.

by the time the day ends at 11pm everyone is exhausted. god, you’d give them a break if you could. but for now, all you can do is make their days easier.

they thank you one by one as they head out, eye contact, small nods. manly. they’re cute.

cute on purpose. these are actors.

chan squeezes your shoulder gently before he leaves. “good work today. go home and sleep.” and hyunjin smiles at you with a raise of his brows.

that’s about all the extra shit that happened. nothing else, for now.

you finally make it back to your place close to midnight, feet aching, brain dead, full of thoughts. surprisingly, even though you get anxious easily, you know you can’t come off wrong from this situation, so you don’t feel bad.

the boys have whole careers at stake doing this, not you. so you’re fine. horny. feel powerful.

you can feel how every single one of them is now waiting, patient and polite(on the surface, just again, they were trained to act), to see what happens next.

tomorrow is going to be another long day.

cuz like… every single one of them is trying, really trying, to stay professional. they’re idols, after all. contracts, image, cameras everywhere.

but they also just really, really want to get some.

that comes out on different levels, though. and they control it on different levels too.

like, chan is relatively good at it, even though he already got a taste. he just… wants it again, that’s the case.

he’s doing the best job at pretending nothing changed, but every time you lean close to give him something or adjust his collar he remembers your mouth stretched around him and his throat goes tight.

he’s glad he has you, genuinely glad, but the guilt is eating at him. conflict looks good on him.

minho is way too mature to act on his desire. i mean, when the time feels right he’ll ask, he thinks. or maybe he won’t ask at all. maybe he’ll just pull you into his lap one day and see what happens. for now he sits, and sees.

changbin feels a little betrayed that hyunjin didn’t tell him, but mostly he feels this warm, nervous want. he’s scared to ask. terrified, actually. so he just stays close, hoping you’ll notice how great he is.

“does your back hurt carrying all our stuff? you can lean on me if you want…” NOT. SUBTLE. BUDDY.

hyunjin, fucking hell, hyunjin. he’s noticeably nicer to you. much more fair because boys are only nice to girls who they would fuck. and hyunjin, as we know, wants that cookie. bad.

well, he doesn’t like you, he likes your mouth. big difference.

han wants to ask so bad. he wants to know if you’d bounce on his dick the way you bounced him on your lap. but even he has enough brain cells to know blurting “can you suck me off too?” would be insane. so he just keeps touching, keeps hoping you’ll offer like you did for the others. embarrassiiiing.

felix is praying. like, literally. plus, he doesn’t know how he should reach out, or if he even should. he’s waiting for the right moment, playing it cool while internally begging whatever higher power exists to let him have a turn. plus he has more serious mental tortures than this now, he wants pussy but it’s not his main goal now.

oh, seungmin notices when hyunjin is nicer to you. he notices when chan watches you longer or wants you around for a longer time.

the thought of actually asking you “hey y/n, can you suck me off like you did for the others?” makes him want to throw up from nerves. he’s too shy.

jeongin, with the boys, aka his comfort zone, he’s all cheeky, clapping arms and making gross jokes and whatever thing only boys do and is so cute actually. but the second he’s alone with you, he gets shy. his cheeks go pink when he has to ask you for something simple.

he keeps replaying the night you saw him in just boxers, god, why wasn’t he interested in you(the services your mouth has) then?

everytime he opens his mouth to say something flirty it dies in his throat and he ends up mumbling “thanks, y/n…” and he scurries away to hide behind minho.

he’s your boss. he’s bigger than you in any possible situation. but right now he feels small and stupid and so fucking horny he could cry. he likes you. that makes asking for head feel impossible!

and through the next days, you really clearly begin to see them lose their professionalism. well, not completely lose it, they’re not that piss brained, but they’re clearly doing shit they can get castrated for if caught.

but they trust you though not to spill anything.

chan talks with you during lunch one day. like, the two of you separate from other people. it’s nice, he actually opens up more, tells you about a song he’s writing that’s too personal(boundaries daddy, boundaries), asks what you think. his hand brushes your lower back when he thanks you. his dick is hard the entire conversation. he wants your mouth again so fucking bad but he’s also starting to want the conversations. duality of man.

jeongin tries to talk to you twice and both times chickens out. first time he opens his mouth, says “y/n, can i—” then turns bright red and pretends he needed water. second time he just blurts “hi hey hello” and immediately wants to die.

minho sits next to you on a couch while you’re on your laptop. doesn’t say much, just lives around next to you. when the boys start shouting at each other across the room he laughs loud with them. it’s cute. he has a beautiful smile.

seungmin gives you the usual quiet “hi” when you hand him something. later you overhear him making every one of them laugh their fucking asses off. around you? radio silence. weird, how he works.

the others behave. mostly. nothing else weird happened, but still, their brains are 90% cum and 10% “what if she sucks me off next.”

hyunjin is the best at the whole nothing happened game. he’s a professional little actor when he wants to be. during morning rehearsal he barks “y/n, my water” in the exact same pissy tone as always, but then he actually throws a “thanks” your way?? in this economy??

he wants to drag you into a storage closet or something and make you stay this time, but he’s too good at pretending. he just gets a little nicer, holding a door for you once, even. holy shit.

changbin does try though. again, unprofessional, and he knows that, and he follows you down the hallway again anyway.

“y/n, do you like strawberries? i saw this new cafe that does strawberry milk… not that i’m asking you out or anything, just… if you ever want one after schedule…” he trails off, cheeks pink, then quickly adds “or i can just bring you one here. or whatever.”

when hyunjin walks past and gives you a tiny nod changbin wants to go after him and choke the guy.

usually, the days just blur together, and you’re thrilled to see how they’re going to reach out next.

one afternoon hyunjin “accidentally” drops his towel right in front of you and when you bend down to pick it up he mutters “keep it” like it’s a gift instead of his sweaty ass towel. chan sees it and gives hyunjin the world’s most disappointed dad look(paired with a boyish little scoff, wow chan you almost looked mature for a second) but then later pulls you aside himself, asking if you want to go over some things with him after practice “just the two of us, no pressure.” you say sure and he’s visibly nervous.

what a time to be employed.

yeah, you and chan do start building something, even if it’s not consciously built.

he pulls you aside more during work, technically always asking about work related things but really it’s just hanging out. he needs something only you seem to give him.

he wants that cookie so fucking bad.

mostly the relief it gives. the way your mouth turned his brain off for ten beautiful minutes and let him breathe like a normal twenty something guy instead of the guy carrying eight careers on his back.

one afternoon after a killer dance practice he’s drenched in sweat that you so want to lick off, chest heaving, and he waves the others off. “i’ll stay a bit longer. y/n, can you help me go over the new formation notes?”

the boys leave, shooting looks, but nobody says shit.

it’s just you and chan in the empty practice room, mirrors reflecting you two from every angle.

he sits on the floor against the wall, legs stretched out, and pats the spot next to him. you sit. he smells like humans(in the good way) and that expensive cologne and pure man.

you go over the notes but after ten minutes the papers are forgotten on the floor between you.

“you know… that night.” he starts, staring at the mirror instead of you. “it helped more than i thought it would. not just the… physical part. having someone who doesn’t expect anything back. who just helps.” he rubs the back of his neck, cringe ass but it actually means a lot, coming from him. “i keep thinking about it. it was nice. you’re nice to have around, y/n.”

“thank you. really, means a lot that i can help.”

now you’re professional. you don’t tell him what you feel on a deeper level, just the surface shit. noncommittal.

he wants the relief again so bad he can taste it. he wants to feel your throat squeeze around him he wants to cum so hard he forgets the comeback schedule for five whole minutes.

but he doesn’t ask. he’s really trying to keep himself in line because he has shit to focus on. he has work, for fuck’s sake.

it’s… a fucking joke. their careers, their contracts, their reputations, all of it could go up in flames if one wrong person finds out, but right now every single one of them is thinking with the head between their legs instead of the one on their shoulders.

chan feels the most responsibility, but he’s still using every charm trick in the book. just again, they were trained to charm people, and he’s using that.

mr leader knows exactly what he’s doing when he pulls you into quiet corners “just to talk.” when his voice gets a little softer, a little slower. what a charmer.

even though he’s aware of all the risks, he still does it.

because he wants the relief so bad. he wants your mouth again. he wants the way you make the torture in his head stop.

so he charms you gently, carefully, building whatever this is. he feels bad about it. but not bad enough to stop, because it’s… it’s like an addiction. it is an addiction, the way addicts know the drug is bad for them but they’re already reaching for the next dose because their body got to know it and now needs it. that’s what’s happening, basically.

blowjob can NOT be this good.

(it can. you really are a talent at giving them, y/n)

the others don’t feel anything at all. they just want to get some action. plain and simple.

like, hyunjin is nicer???(it’s working. you can feel it.) han asks questions that feel personal??? minho uses that idol trained eye contact that makes you feel like the only girl in the room even when there are twenty staff members running around??? seungmin lets you go ahead of him??? felix giggles at everything you say??? jeongin’s eyes are always on you whatever you’re doing??? changbin follows you around all day???

it’s all so fucking unprofessional it’s almost impressive.

these men have everything to lose.

but they’re still thinking with their dicks.

they know one leaked rumor could end everything. but the thought of your mouth, your hands, some relief, pussy, makes their heads turn.

they linger. they find excuses. it’s stupid.

but they’re trained to charm.

they’re trained to get what they want.

and right now what they want more than anything is you getting them off. men can really want a thought when they already settled into it in their heads.

and work is just so much, so stressing, that chan just neeeeds you at their place again!

so you go.

it’s late. jeongin’s already asleep in his room. the only light is the soft glow from chan’s laptop on the desk and the small lamp beside his bed. you’re both sitting on the edge of his bed, laptops open, going over shit.

but the air is thick.

chan has been restless the entire evening, shifting his weight, rubbing the back of his neck, whatnot. you can feel the tension coming off him.

finally, after ten straight minutes of him staring at the same line on the screen without typing anything, he closes his laptop with a quiet click.

“y/n.”

you look up.

he takes a rough breath, eyes flicking away for a second before they come back to you. visibly fighting with himself. “i… fuck. this is hard to ask. i know we said one time. but tonight… i… i think i really need another… one. if you’d be willing to… do that again. for me.”

you immediately close your laptop, set it aside, slide off the bed, dropping to your knees between his spread thighs without a word.

holy shit.

his eyes actually widen.

wow.

how did he get his lucky?

“thank you.” he says immediately, shakily taking the laptop off his lap. “i— i appreciate this more than i can say right now. seriously. you don’t know how much.”

you smile up at him, hands resting on his thick thighs. “i got you.”

your palms slide up his thighs, feeling the hard muscle tense under the thin sweatpants. you press your thumbs into the seam where his legs meet his hips, rubbing small circles, feeling him under the fabric. the human. the man.

chan’s breath hitches, watching you.

you’re an angel. sent to him personally from the clouds of heaven.

you lean in and press a soft, open mouthed kiss to the inside of his left thigh, right above the knee, then another a little higher.

chan’s fingers twitch against his legs.

you move to the right thigh, repeating the same kisses, working your way up inch by inch while your hands keep rubbing soothing patterns on the outside of his thighs.

when you reach the crease where his leg meets his groin you pause, breathing warm air through the fabric right over the growing bulge. you can already see the luring outline forming, starting to push against the (disgustingly expensive, but he can afford it so whatever) material.

“fuck… y/n…”

you take a soft breath, then mouth gently along the length of him through the sweatpants, lips parted, tongue pressing on the fabric so he can feel what’s about to come.

you trace the entire shape of him, base to tip, slow and sensual, feeling him thicken and harden under your mouth until the fabric is stretched.

this is the hottest thing anyone has ever done to him.

your hands slide higher, fingers hooking into the waistband. you kiss the spot right above the waistband, then drag your tongue in a slow, wet stripe up the center of his abs over his shirt. the muscle jumps.

chan’s head tips back slightly, throat working as he swallows hard. fucking hell, this is unreal. he’s going to bust now.

your tug the pants down reeeaaal slow, letting the fabric move on his skin. letting him feel he’s alive. he lifts his hips to help, breath catching when the cool air hits him.

his boxers come next, you peel them down carefully, watching his cock come free.

he’s manscaped now. oh, hello. completely. smooth skin all around the base, not a single hair left, balls silky and bare because he took the time to do this just in case you ended up here again.

the sight makes your mouth water. the intent makes your mouth water. his cock looks even bigger without the hair. it twitches the second your eyes land on it, bobbing once like it knows you’re looking. hi to you too.

you wrap one hand around the base first, gentle, feeling the warmth of him, the way the smooth skin slides over the hardness underneath. chan lets out a low, shaky exhale through his nose, thighs tensing under your palm. you give him one slow stroke from root to tip, thumb pressing lightly right under the head(where you learned he’s most sensitive. that’s intimate.) his cock jumps in your grip, a thick drop of pre leaking out and sliding down the shaft, making your work easier.

god, this man is pouring pre compared to what you had to work with on hyunjin. but you’re not complaining about either.

“fuck…” he mutters, one hand coming down to hold on the back of your head.

you smile up at him, then look back down to lean in closer, breath ghosting over him, and drag your tongue in one long stripe from the base all the way up to the head.

chan’s whole body shudders.

you swirl your tongue around the head once, tasting the saltiness, then pull back to watch his reaction.

his cock twitches again, harder this time, another bead of pre pushing out right where your tongue just was.

you lean back in and lick it off slowly, dragging the tip of your tongue over the slit, pressing hard enough to make him hiss softly between his teeth.

one hand strokes him long while the other cups his smooth balls, rolling them gently in your palm, feeling how warm and heavy they are, how they tighten up everytime you lick over the head. you tug lightly on his sack, making his hips twitch up, and chan groans, fingers flexing in your hair.

“thank you… fuck, thank you.”

you’re welcome, daddy.

you lick him again, slower this time, tracing every vein with the tip of your tongue, feeling the way his cock jumps and leaks for you with every pass. you pull him down slightly with your hand so you can drag your tongue along the sensitive underside, right where the head meets the shaft, and chan almost leans forward from the pleasure. this is way better than fucking his first in the shower.

his cock is fully hard now, standing thick and flushed and glossy with your spit and his pre, the shaved skin making every little reaction so much more visible. the way it throbs, the way the head swells darker every time you swirl your tongue around it, the way his balls draw up tighter in your hand because they’re already getting close.

you keep stroking him with a slow, sensual rhythm, twisting your wrist just right at the top, thumb pressing into the slit to spread the fresh pre around while your tongue follows right behind, licking and teasing and tasting.

chan’s breathing is getting heavier, chest rising and falling under his shirt. he’s already relieved.

you pull his skin down again, licking slow circles around the head, then take just the tip into your mouth, sucking softly while your hand keeps stroking the rest of him, tight.

chan lets out this low groan, head tipping back, the sound vibrating through his whole hot body.

you look up at him from between his thick thighs and jesus fucking christ he’s hot.

his chest is rising and falling under his (white)shirt, sweat starting to bead at his hairline because he’s running so fucking warm. his cock literally radiating warmth in your hand. it’s been dying for this. for your touch again.

he reaches down to pull his shirt off.

chan. shirtless.

skin and pure muscle right in front of your face. his abs and pecs flex when he tosses the fabric aside, a light layer of sweat already making him glow under the lamp. oh that’s dada. big manly body, veins standing out on his arms, bruises from all the treatments he gets, cupping and allat, that deep v line pointing straight to his smooth shaved cock. no need to point here you come.

you open your mouth wide, tongue flat, and take him in deep right from the start. the head slides over your tongue, thick and hot and salty, unpleasant but also hot, and you don’t stop until your nose is buried in that smooth shaved skin at his base.

he actually has to whip his head up.

you hold him there for a second, swallowing hard, letting your throat work him while your nose presses into his warm skin.

you pull back slowly, lips dragging along every thick inch, sucking hard so your cheeks hollow. you don’t pull off tho. you bob your head instead, taking him to the back of your throat over and over, gagging. spit runs down your chin. everytime you push down your throat squeezes around the head and chan’s hips twitch up.

“thank you, y/n… god thank you…”

you look up at him while you suck, eyes watering, lips formed obscenely around his shaft, and the eye contact makes him cry out. jeongin sleeping next room be damned.

he’s so hot like this. you can see how much he wants this, how bad he’s been thinking about your mouth since last time. that’s also told by the way his cock leaks constantly now, just again, brutal compared to what hyunjin gave you, thick salty pre coating your tongue and sliding down your throat every time you take him. he’s too hot for you to mind the taste.

you pull off with a wet squelch, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock, and spit on him, then stroke your fingers up and down his slick shaft while you suck just the head hard. your tongue swirls around the sensitive underside, flicking right where it meets the head, and chan’s whole body jerks.

“ah, fuck— right there—”

you take him back down, nose to skin, and start bobbing faster, head moving, gluck gluck on him. spit is everywhere, running down your chin, dripping off your jaw, soaking his smooth balls and thighs.

you reach up with one hand and roll his balls gently, tugging them down to make him hiss then moan. cock jumps hard in your mouth at that, another spurt of pre arriving on your tongue. you like how much he gives you.

the attraction between you two is insane. you can feel how much he wants you, how grateful he is, how he’s truly living in this moment. and you’re so fucking attracted to him it hurts. it’s mutual.

you suck harder. deeper. sloppier. you take him all the way every time, throat working around him, nose pressed to him while your tongue licks the underside. you gag on purpose, letting your throat spasm around the head, and chan groans loud and long, head falling back.

he’s actually letting out little moans now between the loud hisses. you can feel how close he is, how bad he wants to cum.

you look up again and lock eyes with him while your lips are stretched around the base of his cock, throat full, spit dripping down your chin, and the pure animal attraction in his gaze makes your stomach flip.

he’s so fucking grateful and so fucking turned on he doesn’t know what to do with it.

you’re doing it so fucking well. you’re making him feel so good.

his hips snap up. his thick cock drives straight into your throat with a desperate thrust. the head punches past the ring of muscle in there and buries itself deep, stretching your throat wide open.

you gag hard around him, throat convulsing, eyes watering instantly as spit explodes out the corners of your mouth and you instinctively try to pull back.

but oh, look at that, he’s holding your head in place.

“fuck, sorry.” he moans, but his hips do come up again, slower this time but still greedy, pushing another inch deeper.

he starts thrusting.

animal, hungry snaps of his hips that force his thick cock in and out of your face. every thrust makes a wet, obscene ack sound as your throat bulges around him. spit flies everywhere, splattering onto his balls, running down your neck.

his big hand tightens in your hair, gripping hard to hold you right where he needs you. his other hand braces on the bed behind him so he can fuck your mouth deeper. his abs are clenched and moving, v line flexing every time he drives up, sweat sliding down the lines and dips of his muscles.

he’s whining and moaning and groaning for you. holy fuck you might die but he’s hot.

tears spill down your cheeks, mixing with the spit, but you keep your eyes locked on him the whole time.

fuck, he looks... angelic. naked, sweaty, mouth open, eyes dumb as he watches his thick cock disappear between your lips over and over. sometimes head tipping back for a second before he looks back down.

he starts really pounding.

deep, brutal thrusts that force his cock all the way down until his balls smack wetly against your chin.

spit bubbles out around the sides of your stretched lips, dripping in long strings onto the floor. it’ll dry, no big deal.

you take it. you want it. even when your eyes are streaming tears and your gag reflex keeps trying to fight back and it hurts both your throat and stomach, you relax your throat as much as you can and let him ruin it. your nails dig into his thighs, holding on for dear life.

you can feel how close he is. the way his thighs shake around your head. the way his abs clench harder. the way his body moves.

he fucks your face faster, hips snapping up desperately, using your mouth like a toy. “y/n— i’m— fuck— i’m gonna— ahh—”

one last deep, brutal thrust, cock buried to the hilt, your nose smashed against his smooth skin, throat stretched wide around him, and he starts cumming with a long, wild groan.

you gag around his length, cum and spit forcing its way back up around his cock because there’s just too much. it leaks out the corners of your stretched lips, running down your chin, white and disgusting, running down your neck while he keeps pumping cum into you.

chan’s whole body is shaking, groaning as he empties himself.

“fuck— yes— good girl, yeah.”

okay suddenly it doesn’t hurt.

who are you kidding it hurts so much.

some of it comes back up, mixing with all the spit, making everything disgusting, your nails still dug into his thighs as you throw his cum up around him.

when the last weak spurt finally dribbles onto your tongue, chan slumps back against the bed, chest heaving, cock still deep in your throat.

you slowly pull off, coughing and gasping for air, strings of cum and spit and lowk stomach acid connecting your swollen lips to his cock. you have to spit out what’s left in your mouth, really wouldn’t be able to take that down now, then wipe your chin with the back of your hand, smearing it across your skin, breathing loud.

chan reaches down immediately, thumb brushing your wet cheek. “fuck, y/n, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be that rough. you okay?”

you look up at him, lips puffy, face messy, and nod. it hurts. “i’m fine. i wanted it.” you sound so bad.

he lets out a shaky breath. wow. “thank you.”

“anytime, chan.”

…

the air changes from the eye contact alone.

…is this really going to happen?

your heart starts hammering so loud you can hear it in your ears. you can see the exact moment the thought crosses his mind.

his eyes drop to your mouth again, then lower, tracing the mess on your chin, the way your chest is heaving. his hand, still in your hair, flexes in it.

he shouldn’t.

he knows he shouldn’t.

you’re his assistant. this already crossed multiple lines two times now.

but the way he’s looking at you says he wants to cross every single one of them tonight.

is this really going to happen?

is he really about to cross that line?

fuck it.

he leans down, and kisses you.

line crossed.

it’s deep, hungry, and shockingly soft at first. his lips are warm, so big, so manly. then it deepens. his mouth opens in time with yours, tongue slides against yours, slow, wet, making you shiver.

he murmurs a “come here.” and his hands slide under your arms, lifting you up towards him.

you climb up his body, knees sinking into the bed on either side of his hips, and he leans back until he’s lying flat, pulling you down on top of him so your chest presses against his bare, sweaty one.

his hands immediately find your ass.

big, warm palms cupping you fully, fingers digging in. he squeezes, he’s been dying to know what you feel like there.

a satisfied groan escapes him when he realizes how perfect you fit in his hands.

“fuck…” he breathes against your mouth, kissing you again, slower this time but just as deep and wet and disgusting, tongue licking into you. he knows you taste like this because he was in your mouth. maybe he’ll get to experience your mouth purely one day too. his hips roll up, searching for you(so cute), poking the head of his thickening cock against your lower stomach.

he wants it so bad.

he wants to be completely naked under you while you stay fully clothed.

he wants to feel every inch of your body pressed against his bare skin, your clothes rubbing against his cock, your hands on his chest while he lies there exposed and desperate. he wants to watch you live on the line between professional and the girl who just swallowed his load. he wants your weight on him, your ass in his hands, your mouth on his again while he’s completely vulnerable underneath you.

there is no more “fuck i know i shouldn’t” both of you are completely in it now. both of you have accepted that this is happening, even though you don’t exactly know where it’ll end up. but it’s happening. and it feels so fucking good.

and god, the way he’s sucking on your bottom lip, biting it gently, then licking into your mouth again with these low groans and moans? irresistible.

your bodies are pressed together so tight it’s… it’s the most intimate you’ve been with this man and you’ve literally had his dick down your throat twice. his bare chest is sweaty, hot under your shirt, nipples hard little points, the little guys basically looking for you as you’re holding yourself up above him.

he breaks the kiss with a wet pop and immediately latches onto your neck.

“fuck…” you whisper, head tilting to the side.

his lips are warm and big and perfect on him and for you, sucking marks you’ll have to cover tomorrow.

are you really letting your boss do this?

yeah, no doubt. it’s too addictive to stop.

he keeps going, sucking a bruise right where your neck meets your shoulder, then just softly sucking at it some more.

“mmh… you taste so good.” mr unprofessional mutters into your skin, sucking another mark. his hands squeeze your ass harder, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, kneading it, pleasuring his little man mind.

he takes the two big handfuls and pulls your cheeks apart, spreading you wide even through your pants. you can feel the stretch. you can feel the fabric of your underwear pulling against your asshole, the cool air hitting the sensitive little ring for a split second before his hands push you back together. he does it again, harder, pulling your ass open so wide that the seam of your pants digs right against your clit and you actually feel your hole stretch a tiny bit, that weird, dirty little tug that makes your whole pussy clench hard.

you cry out.

high and needy and shocked at how good it feels. your hips jerk down against his cock on instinct, grinding, god, what a good girl you are, and chan exhales into your neck with a sound.

because oh… you like that?

he does it again, slower, pulling your ass cheeks so far apart you feel your asshole stretch open just a little more, tells you everything. he’s testing. he’s curious. he’s so fucking turned on by the idea that his sweet little assistant likes having her ass played with that he can’t help himself.

he keeps kneading, keeps spreading, imagining what it would feel like without clothes.

every time he pulls hard you feel that delicious, dirty stretch, the way your asshole flutters and it’s all for your boss.

you’re whimpering into his shoulder now, face buried in his neck, hips rolling around to bear with the feeling.

chan might actually marry you.

he’s so hard again it has to hurt. his cock is leaking between you, you can feel the wet spot on your pants from it, the head of his dick catching right against your mound when he rolls his hips up to meet you.

he pulls your ass apart again, really hard this time, thumbs spreading you so wide you swear you can feel the cool air in your actual hole for a second.

“ah, fuck—” you cry out.

that makes his cock jump against you. so sweet, the way it reacts to your voice.

he spreads you wide, mouth still sucking marks into your neck, holds you open for a long second, then lets your cheeks snap back together before doing it all over again. every pull makes your asshole stretch and flutter, every squeeze makes your pussy clench and leak into your panties. you’re so wet it’s embarrassing.

you shift, you can’t even decide who’s more unprofessional now, you or him, because you do that so your clit can be the part where his cock is grinding to.

holy fuck.

his breathing gets hotter, humanly intimate, hot puffs against your neck. his cock is sliding between your folds now through two layers of clothes.

he pulls your ass open one more time, extra slow, extra wide, thumbs pressing right next to your hole.

he’s thinking about something.

you can feel the way your asshole stretches, the little ring of muscle pulling, and the pleasure of it makes your eyes roll back for a second. you cry out again, louder, hips stuttering down hard against his cock.

one of his hands shifts. his pointer finger slides down the crease of your ass, pressing over your pants, right against that stretched little hole. rubs slow circles over it, feeling the way your asshole flutters under the fabric every time he presses down.

the cheeky little shit.

and he keeps kissing your neck, sucking marks, grinding his cock up against your clothed pussy while his finger teases your asshole over your clothes. and here you thought he was vanilla.

oh, right, yeah, you. you’re shaking on top of him now, whimpering, grinding down desperately while his finger keeps pushing your hole.

he’s so hot under you. so fucking big and warm and hard and grateful and greedy all at once. his other hand is still kneading the other cheek, spreading it open so his finger can keep playing with your asshole. his mouth is still on your neck, sucking and licking and biting, leaving himself behind.

it feels so fucking good.

deep down, you needed this almost just as much as he needs your blowjobs. you’re stressed too, well, not carrying your whole group on your back like he does, but no matter how deep the water is if someone’s drowning.

point is, you’ve been pent up too.

and you really needed this tension now.

but… okay, you do need it, but how will it affect your career? you’re building a life for yourself still. you’re so young, and if you fumble this chance to grow yourself now…

fuck. fine.

“chan, wait.” you stammer, breathless. your hands push lightly at his chest, feeling the sweaty muscle underneath your palms. “we… we shouldn’t—”

“c’mon…”

it’s dripping with everything he’s not saying out loud, how bad he wants you, how good you feel on top of him, how he’s been thinking about this since the first time you dropped to your knees.

his finger presses a little firmer into your asshole, and his other hand squeezes your ass harder, pulling you down so his cock grinds up against your soaked pussy again.

your breath catches. for one stupid, weak second you almost give in. he feels so fucking good under you, and…

“just a little more. feels too good to stop now.” he mutters into your neck. it tickles. it’s hot. it’s inviting.

fuck. he’s so convincing.

no.

you’re gonna be professional(bit late for that innit) even if he’s not.

you sit up straighter, hands still on his chest, and shake your head even though your body is screaming at you to keep going.

chan freezes under you. his hands stay on your ass for a second longer before they finally slide away, and he lets you go.

he’s panting under you, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his abs, cock still rock hard and ready to go against his stomach.

for a moment he just stares at you, fighting the ugre to grab you and pull you back down. then reality seems to hit him. his mucsles relax a little. he runs a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose.

“yeah.” he mutters. “you’re right. fuck.”

he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, and closes his eyes. trying to pull himself the fuck together. when he opens them again there’s a mix of frustration and something like respect, maybe even a little shame.

“i’m sorry.” he says quietly, still panting. “i got carried away. you’re… you’re much smarter than me right now.”

the tension is unfinished, but maybe it’s meant to be. (it’s not. you two are MEANT to fuck, you two basically have been created for each other, just sadly, both of you value your careers)

“thank you.” he says quietly. “for stopping me. and… for everything else tonight. i mean it.”

you look beautiful, to him. straddling him, panting, neck covered in his marks. he wants you.

“it’s okay, chan. we’re good.”

you take a breath. okay. you climb off him carefully, legs not stable at all, and sit down on the edge of the bed next to him. he sits up, reaches over and grabs the blanket from the foot of the bed, throwing it over his lap to cover his still hard cock and those smooth thighs. the fabric tents obviously, but at least it’s something.

for a long moment, neither of you says anything.

then you look at each other.

then you smile.

then you laugh.

not on purpose. really do laugh, you couldn’t stop it even if you tried to.

you can both feel it, this human understanding in the air between you two. this is so going to happen again. not tonight, but soon. the tension isn’t gone. it’s just paused. not even paused, just resisted, for fuck’s sake. both of you get this.

you clear your throat, trying to sound normal. “uh… do we have anything else to work on? the schedule tomorrow or—”

“no. go home, y/n. you need to rest.” he pauses, then adds with a small smile “i’ll tell management to give you the day off tomorrow if you want it. you’ve earned it. more than earned it.”

“i won’t take it. you know i won’t.”

“yeah. i know.” he reaches over and gives your knee a gentle squeeze, but soon pulls his hand back. he wanted to keep it there longer. “but seriously. go sleep. i’ll see you in the morning.”

you stand up slowly, legs still shaky, and fix your clothes. your neck tickles where he sucked those pretty marks, your panties are soaked, and your lips feel puffy.

chan watches you the whole time, blanket still over his lap, eyes… fucking shining.

“goodnight, chan.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

you nod, pack your bag in like three fucking moves, and slip out of the room as quietly as you can.

jeongin’s door is still closed. good.

your neck is going to be a nightmare to cover tomorrow. your pussy is still throbbing. and you can still feel this thing between the two of you. it’s so… raw.

inevitable, really.

so it’s only natural that the next day’s gonna be torture too.

okay, it’s not torture anymore. when you freshly started working for them, it really was, but now even though you do have the perfect reasons to call it torture, really, you like it. you like the push and pull. cat and mouse game that you can feel, you just don’t know if they know you feel.

you walk into the building in the morning with a high neck shirt and enough concealer to paint a house. chan did a great work on your neck. purple and red marks all over the side of your throat where he sucked.

hot.

every time you swallow it still hurts from how deep he fucked your face last night.

you’re exhausted, horny, and professional as always.

now though, the guys don’t know about last night. hyunjin thinks he’s the latest conquest. chan is keeping his mouth shut for once.

so the energy is… weird.

and they’re too busy to notice you’re marked.

“morning, y/n.” that’s hyunjin. not suspecting a single thing, which is good for his ego, actually.

you nod and keep moving.

chan’s trying so hard to act normal it’s almost funny. when you hand him his drink he takes it with a quiet “thanks” (remember that at the very start of this he wouldn’t even look at you, not alone grunt a thanks out?) and his eyes flick to your high collar, then away.

you can see the guilt(not about what he did to your neck, about what he did to his career) and the horniness mixing in his expression.

the memory of his mouth on your neck, his hands spreading your ass, his cock leaking against your clothed pussy.

he clears his throat and goes back to his laptop, but his eyes are obviously kept there with force. you just noticed how cute his mouth is.

minho? acts the same as usual. he’s so professional that you couldn’t even tell he wants his cute little assistant to suck him the fuck off.

changbin finds you on the hallway again. babe, go back to work. “you look a little tired today.” he says. “did you sleep okay?” boi just say you want to hit.

he has no idea you spent half the night with chan’s tongue in your mouth and his finger teasing your asshole and it’s an amazing feeling. you just smile and say you’re fine.

han is also normal. why wouldn’t he be, he doesn’t know of the nasty shit you do.

felix comes at you with the “you smell nice today. new perfume?” no baby it’s your best friend’s body’s natural smell and cum that you’re kind of nasty for not washing off but we’re not shaming anyone here. anyways, you shake your head. he smiles, his prettiest on purpose, convinced he’s gonna tap that one day.

seungmin, not much to say either. looks up at you only when you talk to him first. acting aaaaall nonchalant, we know you want some, minnie.

jeongin manages to talk to you with proper sentences this time!! “you okay? you look like you got attacked by a vacuum or something. long night?”

your heart jumps, does he know?, but he’s just teasing. he has no idea how right he is. how on point he was with the vacuum, while really he just meant your hair being a little messy, not the actual suction your neck endured.

during afternoon practice chan pulls you aside for two seconds in the hallway when no one’s looking.

“you okay?” he asks, eyes flicking to your covered neck. “i didn’t… go too far last night?”

you shake your head, smiling(your pussy clenches at the memory of his thumbs spreading your ass). “i’m fine. really.”

he nods, looks away, looks back, then reaches up and gently adjusts your collar.

the tension is insane.

he wants to kiss you again. you can see it in his eyes. he wants to drag you into the nearest room and finish what you started.

but he doesn’t. he just drops his hand and steps back.

“good. go rest when you can.” he says. then he walks back, holding the door open for you.

your panties have been uncomfortable all day from how wet you stayed thinking about his hands.

the sexual tension with him is unbearable now. every day, every time you’re alone for even thirty seconds it wakes up again. the restraint is killing him, and it’s… well, it’s not killing you.

just again, you’re here for work. you have no reason in the world to worry.

he was going to text you hundreds of times. how he couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt on top of him, dumb, vulnerable shit like this, but he stopped himself. unprofessional.

hyunjin is a close second, and he’s getting impatient.

he wants his second round so badly it’s fucking funny. hilarious. you’re slapping your thigh bending over laughing the second you get home.

he starts finding excuses to be alone with you, asking you to help with this, help with that, saying “you owe me another visit sometime” it all tells you he’s dying for it. he wants to feel your throat again.

the fact that you’re keeping him at arm’s length is only making him want it more.

they’re just boys. that’s the thing.

biologically they’re built like fucking animals once their dicks get hard. testosterone floods the system, logical thinking takes a backseat, dopamine and vasopressin are flooding their dumb little brains.

suddenly the logical, professional brain that knows you’re staff and this is dangerous to their lives gets completely overridden by the part that just wants to fuck and claim and cum. it’s not even their fault, millions of years of evolution made sure that this happens.

that’s why they’re moving, circling like this. why chan can’t stop touching you when no one’s looking. why hyunjin gets pissy and horny every time you stop looking at him. why the rest of them keep finding excuses to be near you, eyes lingering on your mouth, your neck, your ass.

now that we’re at asses, fun fact, the reason why we’re so attracted to them is brutally biological. same with breasts. big tits? signals good milk production for babies. fat ass? means wide hips for carrying and birthing. smooth skin, soft curves, the way you smell when you’re turned on, their brains see it and their bodies don’t care that you’re their assistant. they just want. they want to touch, to taste, to fuck, to claim.

that’s why they all go stupid the second they get a taste. one blowjob and suddenly they’re obsessed, wanting, touching more, eyes lingering on your body, thinking about how fast they can get you naked, how would your tits look bouncing.

it’s not even their fault. it’s just biology.

they’re all just boys at the end of the day.

twenty something guys with insane schedules, zero real privacy, and dicks that don’t understand the concept of boundaries. once they know you’re the kind of girl who gets on her knees and swallows without making it weird, their brains go crazy.

plus let’s count it in that these boys are not the smartest. to be pretty fucking real.

but anyways, these are idols. professionals. but strip away the image and they’re just horny animals who saw one of their own get his dick sucked and now their monkey brains are screaming me next me next.

attraction isn’t logical. it’s tits and ass and the way your lips look when they’re swollen from sucking cock. it’s the smell of a turned on woman and the memory of a warm throat.

so, point is, that’s why they’re acting like this. evolution doesn’t care about contracts or image. it just wants them to fuck.

so. you keep rushing when they call your name, fixing slash holding things, handing out this and that, remembering.

but underneath it all you’re a walking mess.

men affect you hard. especially when they’re his attractive.

your neck is still marked up, your pussy stays in a permanent state of dear god i need them but i’ll let them chase, and every single time one of them looks at you for too long your brain helpfully replays the feeling of chan’s thick cock grinding against you while his finger spread your ass open.

he’s the worst. (for now)

the sexual tension with him is unbearable now. every interaction feels like foreplay that never quite tips over.

nobody has ever got him feeling like this before. it’s crazy for him too, trust.

every time your eyes meet across the room there’s this acknowledgment.

we almost fucked. we’re going to fuck. it’s only a matter of when.

the tension is so bad that during one long break he actually had to excuse himself to the bathroom for five minutes because he couldn’t stop staring at you.

the others are still manageable. sure, you’ll deal with it, you’re below them anyways. plus they’re cute. you don’t really mind the attention.

especially the amount you’ve been getting from jeongin.

you’ve started feeling his eyes on you more than anyone else’s.

he watches you when you’re not looking, when you’re bent over getting something from somewhere, when you’re handing someone water, when you’re laughing at something minho said. he’s more intense.

practices are hell. to you. sweat, movement, bodies everywhere. every time someone peels off a shirt you have to look away. you’re not unaffected.

plus sometimes you can’t help but think of chan shirtless under you.

hyunjin catches you looking once and smiles with an eyebrow raise. bitch keep it in your pants.

you keep doing your job. barely.

it’s hard.

just as hard as it’s for jeongin to man himself up and try to talk to you. to shoot his shot, not just business talk.

only if you knew he heard the whole face fucking chan performed on you.

author’s note: holy shit what a basic trope. (saying this but i don’t recall seeing one fic w it. i just know, i can tell. tf. wait no there was a smau i think. i don’t read since i started writing so pleaseeeeee don’t take this as me copying anyone, i purely used this scenario to go to sleep these days(wrote this as i’m at the start of the fic, and writing now, it’s not the one i use anymore) and wanted to put it down somewhere. or i mean shii tell me if someone copyrighted it but i didn’t take the idea from anyone. just wanted to make sure y’all know this!!) this is not an accusation of how the boys act in real life!! purely a fictional characterization to my liking and the people’s who enjoy it. also this is not a high effort fic so shame on me for not making research on what an assistant would do, i’m just here for the dick.

tags: @fics-lovebot @nougatjade @itsraininghyunebuckets @simpqueen2025 @alondra6011 @jaykaavfxcq @soldantae @angelbbygrl @lovelyzghostss @xoxobratz @btch8008s @elizaliza159 @fairyprincesslvr21 @carrotcakeesblog @flamegirl @lixwrld @franaby @bee-gremlin @gardeniashellfire @nevermoreraven1 @sapphirewaves @twilightavenue @pinkdollyy1 @akindaflora @eclips-moon @danielle143 @rayraymylove @niku0704 @herondale-lightworm @btch8008s @elqk @liightlizard @spearbuunn @lttlekomori @importantphantomjellyfish @honeyyyy21 @g1ul1a-s @skzruby @v3n7s @omghidokyeom @luvvvivi @jeonginsfavglazer @cafemirka @minniebitesfr @ariaaleelynn @emmalabo @star-my @sk1nnylikefel1x @hanniballecters @caylajiang

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S I R E N S O N G - pretty things

Summary: Hyunjin is used to surviving storms, sword fights, and life at sea. None of that prepared him for a curious mermaid with too many questions, a love for stray cats, and a habit of looking at him like he’s something worth keeping.

pairing: pirate!Hyunjin x mermaid!female reader genre: fluff and angst (hints of smut) tags/cw: soft fantasy, emotional intimacy, POC traits, discovery/first experiences, strangers to lovers, first kiss word count: 11k next

Hyunjin’s ship first arrived near your island three months ago.

Ever since then, you’ve been watching him.

Every morning at daybreak, the pirate captain walks the shoreline collecting seashells like they’re treasure.

At first, you thought it was strange. Pirates are supposed to care about gold. Weapons. Bloodshed.

Not tiny shells washed onto the sand.

But every morning, without fail, he collected them anyway.

So eventually, you started leaving prettier ones for him.

Small gifts from the ocean.

Shells with soft pink centers.

Spiral ones polished smooth by the tide.

Fragments of your home.

You never stayed long enough for him to see you. You’d leave them behind and disappear beneath the water before he reached the shore.

Still, you always watched from a distance.

Watched the way his expression softened every time he found one.

Watched him carefully tuck them into his pockets like they actually mattered.

And maybe that was the problem.

Because somewhere between the first shell and the hundredth, your curiosity about the strange pirate captain became something else entirely.

Which is exactly why following his ship now is probably a terrible idea.

The farther the ship gets from shore, the more ridiculous this feels.

You never planned this far ahead.

You just saw the sails lifting this morning and panicked.

And then suddenly you were swimming after them.

Now you’re somewhere in the middle of the open ocean with no real explanation for why.

Brilliant.

The ship moves faster than you expected.

You stay beneath the surface most of the time, only coming up occasionally to breathe or catch sight of him near the railing.

Hyunjin.

Even from a distance, it’s easy to find him.

He carries himself differently than the others.

Calmer.

Quieter.

Dangerous in a way that doesn’t feel loud.

Which honestly might be worse.

By nightfall, the crew starts noticing movement in the water.

“There!” one of them shouts suddenly.

You dive instantly beneath the surface.

“I swear something’s following us.”

“Probably a damn dolphin,” another mutters.

A few men crowd the railing anyway, leaning over the edge while the ship rocks beneath them.

Then—

Him.

Hyunjin appears above deck a few seconds later, silver hair messy from sleep and clear annoyance written across his face.

“What’s all the yelling about?”

“Something’s in the water.”

He sighs immediately.

“You idiots finally gone mad?”

Still, he steps toward the railing.

And looks.

You don’t know why your heart starts racing.

He won’t see you.

He can’t.

But for one horrible second, his eyes narrow toward the exact place you’re hiding beneath the waves, and you freeze.

“…Thought I saw something,” he murmurs quietly.

Your pulse stutters.

One of the crew members keeps insisting they saw someone.

Another swears it was a mermaid.

Hyunjin scoffs at that.

“Right,” he says dryly. “And next you’ll tell me sirens are real too.”

The crew slowly drifts away after that, grumbling under their breath.

Hyunjin lingers.

Resting his forearms against the railing, staring out across the dark water.

Like he’s still looking for something.

Or someone.

Poor thing.

He still doesn’t realize you’re right beneath him.

The thought makes you smile.

Before you can stop yourself, you swim around to the quieter side of the ship and carefully pull yourself halfway onto the deck.

Just long enough to leave one last shell behind.

Smooth.

Pale blue.

One of your favorites.

A piece of home.

Then voices echo nearby.

You slip back into the ocean immediately.

Seconds later, Hyunjin rounds the corner.

He stops when he sees the shell sitting there.

His expression changes instantly.

Confusion first.

Then recognition.

Slowly, he picks it up.

Turning it carefully between his fingers.

“…No way,” he mutters under his breath.

And for the first time since following the ship, you think maybe this wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

You don’t mean to let him see you.

Really.

But curiosity has always been your biggest weakness. Especially where Hyunjin is concerned.

The next evening, the ocean is calm enough that the ship barely rocks.

Most of the crew is distracted below deck, laughing loudly over drinks and cards while music drifts faintly across the water.

Hyunjin, however, is alone.

Of course he is.

Leaning against the railing near the stern of the ship, absentmindedly turning one of your shells over between his fingers.

The pale blue one from yesterday.

You shouldn’t feel as pleased about that as you do.

Slowly, you rise closer to the surface.

Quiet enough that the water barely ripples.

He notices anyway.

His entire body stills.

For a second, neither of you move.

Then his eyes widen slightly.

“…You’re real.”

You blink at him.

“That’s a rude first thing to say to someone.”

Silence.

Then—

Hyunjin laughs.

It catches you completely off guard.

Low and warm and genuinely surprised.

“So you can talk too,” he says.

“Obviously.”

“Right. My mistake.”

You drift a little closer to the ship.

He watches carefully, but there’s something strange about his expression now.

Not fear.

Not exactly caution either.

Wonder, maybe.

“You’ve been following us,” he realizes.

You hesitate.

“…Maybe.”

“And the shells?”

Your face warms immediately.

“Maybe.”

Another smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.

Smaller this time.

Softer.

“So it was you.”

Suddenly this feels much more embarrassing than it did in your head.

“You kept collecting them,” you mumble defensively.

“Because they were pretty.”

The words leave his mouth so casually that your chest tightens a little.

Hyunjin looks down at the shell still resting in his palm before looking back at you again.

“I didn’t know someone was leaving them for me.”

“Would you have stopped taking them if you knew?”

“No.”

The answer comes immediately.

And somehow that’s worse.

You sink slightly deeper into the water to hide your expression.

Hyunjin notices.

Of course he notices.

His voice softens when he speaks again.

“Do you have a name?”

You tell him.

He repeats it quietly afterward, testing the sound of it like he wants to memorize it properly.

Then:

“I’m Hyunjin.”

“I know.”

That makes him pause.

“…You know me?”

You immediately realize how strange that sounds.

“Not know know,” you say quickly. “I just hear your crew say your name a lot.”

Hyunjin leans against the railing again, studying you carefully now.

“So you’ve really been watching us this whole time.”

“Maybe.”

He laughs again.

And you realize, very suddenly, that hearing him laugh might become a problem for you.

Hyunjin keeps talking to you after that.

Longer than either of you probably should.

The crew below deck grows louder as the night stretches on, but neither of you moves to leave.

You learn he hates rum despite being a pirate.

He learns you ask far too many questions.

“So humans just decided shoes were necessary?” you ask skeptically.

Hyunjin snorts softly.

“Some of us like not stepping on broken glass.”

“The ocean doesn’t have broken glass.”

“The ocean also has significantly fewer taverns.”

You hum thoughtfully at that.

“Fair point.”

Another quiet laugh slips out of him.

You’re starting to think he does that more around you.

The realization settles strangely warm in your chest.

The conversation drifts easily after that.

Easier than it should.

You ask about the stars.

He asks whether the water is colder farther out at sea.

You ask why pirates wear so many rings.

He asks if your hair is always this shiny underwater.

“That was a weird question,” you tell him.

Hyunjin looks entirely unashamed.

“And yet you answered it.”

“I’m considering swimming away.”

“You’ve threatened that at least three times already.”

“…Maybe.”

His smile softens again.

Gods, that smile is going to become a problem.

The ship creaks quietly around him as the wind shifts through the sails overhead.

Moonlight spills silver across the water between you.

You should leave.

Really.

Staying this close to a pirate captain this long already feels dangerous enough.

But Hyunjin rests his arms against the railing and looks down at you like he has nowhere else he’d rather be.

And maybe that’s your problem too.

“Can I ask you something?” he says after a while.

You nod cautiously.

“Why me?”

The question catches you off guard.

“What?”

Hyunjin turns one of your shells slowly between his fingers.

“You could’ve followed any ship,” he says quietly. “Why mine?”

Your chest tightens a little.

Because you don’t actually have a good answer for that.

At least not one that doesn’t sound embarrassing.

So instead, you shrug slightly in the water.

“You collect pretty things,” you say.

His expression shifts immediately.

Softer now.

Quieter.

Like the answer meant more to him than it should have.

For a second, neither of you says anything.

Then voices echo somewhere nearby below deck.

Hyunjin glances toward the sound before looking back at you again.

“They’re going to come looking for me eventually.”

“Then you should probably go.”

He doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

The silence between you feels different now.

Heavier.

Not uncomfortable.

Just aware.

Hyunjin’s gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes so quickly you almost think you imagined it.

Almost.

“You know,” he says softly, “you’re not nearly as frightening as sailors make mermaids sound.”

You tilt your head slightly.

“And you’re not nearly as frightening as everyone makes pirates sound.”

That earns another smile out of him.

Smaller this time.

More private somehow.

“Good,” he murmurs.

The word settles somewhere deep in your chest before you can stop it.

And suddenly the space between you feels much too small.

You should leave.

Instead, you drift closer.

Close enough now that Hyunjin could reach down and touch you if he wanted to.

The realization makes your pulse flutter strangely.

His eyes flick briefly toward your hands resting against the side of the ship.

Then back to your face again.

Careful. Like he’s trying very hard not to scare you away.

“Can I ask you something else?” you murmur.

“Depends.”

“That’s not a real answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting until I know the question.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hyunjin looks entirely too pleased with himself.

“Fine,” you mumble. “Why do you collect shells?”

That seems to catch him off guard.

He glances down at the one still resting in his hand before shrugging slightly.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a terrible answer.”

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who keeps insulting me.”

“You avoid answering them.”

“Maybe because you ask strange questions.”

“You asked if my hair was always shiny.”

Hyunjin laughs quietly under his breath again, shaking his head.

“Alright. Fair.”

The sound of the ocean fills the silence for a moment afterward.

Softer now.

Slower.

“I think…” he starts quietly, turning the shell between his fingers again, “I just like pretty things.”

Your breath catches embarrassingly fast.

Because the way he says it—

Looking directly at you, does not feel accidental.

Hyunjin seems to realize it too a second later.

His expression shifts almost immediately.

Like he didn’t mean for the thought to leave his mouth out loud.

Heat rushes to your face.

“Oh.”

Brilliant response. You want the ocean to swallow you whole.

But then Hyunjin smiles.

Soft and fond enough to make your stomach flip unexpectedly.

“Oh?” he repeats lightly.

You immediately sink deeper into the water until only your eyes remain above the surface.

His grin widens.

“You’re shy.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Again,” he says knowingly.

“I mean it this time.”

“Sure you do.”

You glare at him from the water.

Hyunjin leans farther over the railing slightly, silver hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at you.

“Stay a little longer.”

The teasing fades from his voice on those words.

And somehow that’s worse.

Because now he sounds sincere.

Your heart stutters hard enough to hurt.

This is dangerous.

Still, you stay.

By the time the moon sits high above the ship, the air between you feels softer than it did before.

Easier.

Like somewhere between all the teasing and questions, neither of you realized how long you’d been talking.

Hyunjin sits on the lower railing now, one boot hooked against the wood to steady himself while he looks down at you.

“So,” he says, “what exactly do mermaids do all day?”

You blink.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A real one.”

“You think we just float around dramatically?”

“Do you?”

“Sometimes.”

That pulls another laugh from him.

Quiet this time.

Tired around the edges.

Comfortable.

You’ve started noticing the different kinds of laughs he has.

That realization alone feels dangerous.

“What do pirates do all day?” you shoot back.

“Steal things.”

“That can’t possibly take all day.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“You’re disappointing me a little.”

Hyunjin presses a hand dramatically against his chest. “That hurts.”

“Good.”

“Cruel.”

“Pirate.”

His smile widens slowly at that.

The wind shifts around the ship again, cool against your skin. Somewhere below deck, music starts playing faintly, uneven singing mixed with loud laughter.

You glance toward the sound curiously.

“Your crew likes you,” you say quietly.

Hyunjin looks surprised by that observation.

“You got all that from drunken singing?”

“No,” you murmur. “From the way they talk about you.”

Something unreadable flickers across his face for a second.

“And how do they talk about me?”

You hesitate briefly.

“Like they trust you.”

The answer seems to affect him more than you expect.

He looks away for a moment, gaze drifting out across the dark water instead.

“That’s probably because they’re idiots,” he mutters.

“Mm. I think you like them too much to mean that.”

Hyunjin glances back at you then, studying your face carefully like he’s trying to figure out how you keep noticing things he doesn’t say out loud.

It makes your stomach flutter. Again.

“You notice a lot,” he says quietly.

You shrug one shoulder.

“You’re easy to read.”

“That might be the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Debatable.”

The two of you fall quiet again after that.

But it’s not awkward.

Just heavy in a way you don’t entirely understand yet.

Hyunjin’s gaze drifts back to you slowly.

Your mouth.

Your eyes.

Then your mouth again.

Oh.

The realization hits all at once.

You’ve seen humans kiss before.

From a distance.

Hidden near crowded ports or shorelines.

But something about the way Hyunjin is looking at you now suddenly makes the meaning behind it feel much clearer.

Your pulse jumps.

Hyunjin notices immediately.

Of course he does.

His voice softens when he speaks again.

“What?”

You open your mouth.

Then close it again.

Because somehow saying I think you want to kiss me feels significantly more embarrassing than drowning.

Hyunjin watches you for another second like he’s waiting for you to say something.

You don’t.

Mostly because your brain stopped functioning somewhere around the moment you realized how close the two of you had drifted.

Thankfully, voices suddenly echo from below deck before the silence can become any more unbearable.

“Captain!”

Hyunjin sighs immediately, leaning his head back slightly.

“There it is,” he mutters.

You blink at him.

“There what is?”

“The part where they remember I actually have responsibilities.”

Another voice calls for him again somewhere deeper in the ship.

Hyunjin closes his eyes briefly like he’s considering pretending not to hear them.

You laugh softly before you can stop yourself.

His eyes open immediately at the sound.

And for a second, he just stares at you again.

That same look from earlier.

Softer now somehow.

Warm enough to make your chest ache.

Dangerous.

Definitely dangerous.

“You should go,” you murmur quietly.

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, Hyunjin hops down from the railing and steps closer to the edge of the ship.

Close enough now that if you reached up, your fingers would brush his hand.

Neither of you moves.

The ocean shifts gently around you.

Somewhere overhead, the sails creak softly in the wind.

“Are you going to be here tomorrow?” he asks eventually.

The question catches you embarrassingly off guard.

“Maybe.”

Hyunjin huffs out a quiet laugh.

“You really like that answer.”

“Maybe.”

This time he smiles fully.

And gods, that might actually be worse.

“Alright,” he says softly. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

You nod once.

“Maybe.”

He shakes his head under his breath, still smiling.

Then he starts to turn away—before suddenly stopping.

You barely have time to process the movement before he crouches slightly near the edge of the ship and presses a quick kiss against your forehead.

Soft.

Careful.

Gone almost immediately.

Your entire body freezes.

Hyunjin looks equally startled by his own decision afterward.

Like he didn’t plan to do that either.

For one awkward second, neither of you says anything.

Then, “Goodnight,” he says quickly.

And disappears back across the deck before you can recover enough to answer him.

You remain there in stunned silence long after he’s gone.

Fingers slowly lifting toward your forehead.

The spot still feels warm.

Above you, muffled laughter echoes somewhere aboard the ship while waves lap quietly against the wood beneath your arms.

Your chest hurts strangely.

Not painful.

Just—full.

And somewhere deep below the surface, your tail flicks happily through the water before you can stop it.

You spend the entire next day trying not to think about him.

It goes terribly.

Every shiny shell reminds you of him.

Every passing shadow near the surface makes your heart jump stupidly fast.

At one point, you accidentally swim directly into a rock because you’re too busy replaying the feeling of his mouth against your forehead.

Humiliating.

By sunset, you’ve officially decided you’re not going back to the ship.

Which is obviously why you’re swimming toward it less than an hour later.

The moment the dark sails appear in the distance again, your pulse starts fluttering all over.

Ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

You tell yourself you’re only checking to see if they anchored safely for the night.

Nothing more.

Definitely not because a certain pirate captain smiled at you yesterday like you were something precious.

That would be absurd.

As you approach closer, music drifts across the water again.

Louder tonight.

The crew sounds fully drunk this time. Which honestly explains a lot about pirates.

You quietly pull yourself onto a cluster of rocks near the anchored ship, careful to stay hidden beneath the shadows.

From here, you can see most of the upper deck clearly.

Sailors move back and forth carrying drinks.

Someone is singing terribly.

Two men appear to be arguing over cards.

And Hyunjin—

Hyunjin is nowhere to be seen.

Disappointment settles in your chest so fast it almost irritates you.

See?

This is exactly why getting attached to humans is dangerous.

Before you can spiral any further, footsteps echo softly above.

Then:

“You came back.”

Your head snaps upward immediately.

Hyunjin stands near the railing looking down at you, silver hair shifting softly in the ocean breeze.

He looks unfairly pleased.

“I said maybe,” you mumble.

“Mm.” His mouth twitches slightly. “And yet here you are.”

You sink slightly lower against the rocks.

“You sound smug.”

“I am smug.”

“I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not.”

The confidence in his voice makes heat crawl into your face instantly.

Annoying.

Hyunjin disappears briefly from the railing before reappearing a few moments later climbing down toward the lower deck instead.

Closer.

Much closer.

Your pulse immediately betrays you again.

He settles against the wooden edge of the ship near where you’re hiding between the rocks, close enough now that moonlight catches properly across his face.

“You know,” he says casually, “most people would probably be terrified of a creature lurking around their ship every night.”

“And yet you keep talking to me anyway.”

“Maybe I’m stupid.”

“I think we established that when you kissed me and ran away immediately afterward.”

Hyunjin nearly chokes.

The reaction is so immediate you actually laugh.

“I did not run away.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I had responsibilities.”

“Mm.”

“You’re very judgmental for someone who follows pirate ships around recreationally.”

“…That’s fair.”

Hyunjin stays near the edge of the ship after that, one arm resting lazily across the railing while the ocean moves softly between you.

The air feels warmer tonight.

Or maybe that’s just him.

“So,” he says after a moment, “did you spend all day making fun of me in your head?”

“Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“There were brief moments where I considered being nice.”

“How generous of you.”

You grin despite yourself, trailing your fingers absentmindedly through the water beside the rocks.

The faint sounds of the crew drift around you both: laughter, music, & someone yelling dramatically about cheating at cards

But out here near the water, everything feels strangely separate from the rest of the ship.

Smaller, quieter, yours.

Hyunjin watches your movement quietly for a second before speaking again.

“Can I ask you something?” Hyunjin says.

You narrow your eyes immediately.

“You ask dangerous questions.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Neither is that.”

His mouth curves slightly.

“Do mermaids always hide this much?”

You blink.

“What?”

“You’re always halfway underwater,” he says lightly. “Or behind rocks. Or threatening to leave.”

“Maybe I like dramatic exits.”

“You’ve never actually left dramatically.”

“You ruin all my moments.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

You try not to smile and fail immediately.

Hyunjin notices, of course.

He notices everything.

“There it is,” he murmurs softly.

“What?”

“That smile.”

Your stomach flips so suddenly it almost hurts.

You immediately look away toward the water.

Dangerous.

Dangerous dangerous dangerous.

“You flirt a lot for someone who claims to be terrifying,” you mumble.

Hyunjin laughs quietly under his breath.

“Do I seem terrifying to you?”

You risk glancing back at him then.

Moonlight catches silver along the sharp edges of his features while the wind pushes strands of hair across his eyes.

He looks beautiful.

Soft in a way pirates probably aren’t supposed to.

And somehow that’s far more dangerous than if he looked cruel.

“No,” you admit honestly.

His expression shifts slightly at the answer.

Smaller.

Gentler.

Like that mattered to him more than it should have.

“Good,” he says quietly again.

The same way he said it yesterday.

And somehow it affects you even worse this time.

For a while, neither of you says much after that.

You sit half-hidden between the rocks while Hyunjin stays stretched against the railing above you, close enough that your shoulders almost brush whenever the ship shifts with the tide.

Comfortable silence.

You think you’re starting to understand why humans enjoy it.

Somewhere above deck, one of the crew members shouts loudly enough to make both of you glance upward.

“CAPTAIN!”

Hyunjin closes his eyes immediately.

“If I ignore them long enough,” he says calmly, “they might disappear.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“You ruin all my optimism.”

“Someone has to.”

Another yell echoes across the ship.

“CAPTAIN, JEONGIN FELL DOWN THE STAIRS AGAIN—”

Hyunjin pinches the bridge of his nose.

You stare at him.

“…Again?”

“Don’t ask.”

“No, I absolutely want details.”

“You’re cruel.”

“And curious.”

He sighs dramatically before glancing back toward the upper deck.

“I should probably stop another disaster before they sink the ship without me.”

“That also seems unlikely.”

“You clearly have too much faith in them.”

You smile softly as he pushes himself upright.

But instead of leaving immediately, Hyunjin lingers near the edge again, looking down at you with that same unreadable expression he’s been wearing all night.

Warm.

Careful.

Fond enough to make your heartbeat feel unstable.

“You’ll come back tomorrow?” he asks.

There’s something strangely hopeful in the question this time.

Like he already knows he wants the answer to be yes.

You should probably stop this before it becomes something dangerous.

Before the ache in your chest every time he smiles gets any worse.

Before you start waiting for him the same way he’s clearly started waiting for you.

Instead, you nod once.

“Maybe.”

Hyunjin laughs softly under his breath.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet you keep talking to me.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs quietly.

His gaze drifts over your face for a second too long.

“Funny how that works.”

Your pulse stutters again.

You’re starting to think it does that constantly around him now.

Hyunjin steps back slowly afterward, though he still looks reluctant to leave.

Then, just before turning away completely, he reaches into his pocket and tosses something gently toward you.

You catch it automatically.

A shell.

Small.

Pale pink.

One of the ones you left for him weeks ago. Your eyes widen immediately. “You kept them?”

Hyunjin looks almost offended. “Obviously.”

“Why?”

He pauses for a second like the answer should be simple.

Then: “Because they were yours.”

Oh.

Your heart might actually kill you one day.

Hyunjin seems to realize what he said a second too late because his expression shifts immediately afterward.

Slightly startled.

Slightly embarrassed.

Which somehow makes it worse.

“Goodnight,” he says quickly.

Then he disappears back toward the upper deck before you can figure out how to respond to that.

Leaving you alone with the shell clutched tightly in your hands and a heartbeat that suddenly refuses to calm down.

The next few days fall into a rhythm neither of you acknowledges out loud.

At sunset, you find the ship.

And somehow, Hyunjin always finds you too.

Sometimes he’s already waiting near the railing when you arrive, silver hair glowing softly beneath the moonlight like he’s been looking for you.

Other nights you catch him halfway through conversations with his crew before his attention drifts toward the water the second you appear.

Every single time, his entire face softens when he sees you.

It’s becoming a problem.

A serious one.

“So humans just decided soup was a meal?” you ask one night incredulously.

Hyunjin nearly chokes on his drink. “What’s wrong with soup?”

“It’s liquid.”

“The ocean is liquid.”

“The ocean isn’t dinner.”

“Depends on how desperate you are.” You stare at him. “Pirates live terribly.”

“We survive beautifully, actually.”

“Questionable.”

Hyunjin laughs softly, leaning against the railing beside you while the ship drifts steadily through calmer waters.

The conversations never really stop anymore. They just change shape.

Some nights you ask endless questions about humans: dancing, music, cities, why people wear perfume, why sailors swear so much.

Other nights Hyunjin asks about the ocean instead.

Not invasive questions. Careful ones.

Like he’s trying to learn you without pushing too hard.

“What’s the deepest part of the sea you’ve ever seen?”

“Cold,” you answer immediately.

Hyunjin snorts quietly. “Very descriptive.”

“It was dark too.”

“Ah. Thank you. That helps significantly.”

You smile despite yourself.

Somewhere along the way, talking to him stopped feeling strange.

Dangerous, yes.

But easy too.

Easier than anything has a right to feel after only a few days.

And Hyunjin—

Hyunjin keeps looking at you like he’s trying not to get attached.

Which would probably work better if he stopped smiling at you like that.

One evening, you surface beside the ship to find him alone again, elbows resting against the railing while he stares absentmindedly at the horizon.

“You’re thinking too hard,” you announce immediately.

Hyunjin glances down at you, startled for half a second before smiling softly.

“And hello to you too.”

“You looked dramatic.”

“I’m a pirate captain. It’s part of the job.”

You rest your chin against your crossed arms near the side of the ship.

“What were you thinking about?”

His expression shifts slightly then.

Quieter.

“Tortuga.”

You tilt your head curiously.

“That’s where we’re docking tomorrow.”

The unfamiliar name settles strangely in your chest.

Another island. Another human place.

You’ve watched ports from far away before, but never close enough to truly understand them.

Hyunjin studies your face for a moment before speaking again.

“You want to see it.”

It isn’t a question. You hesitate anyway.

“…Maybe.”

His smile appears immediately.

“There’s that answer again.”

“It’s a good answer.”

“It’s an evasive answer.”

“Still good.”

Hyunjin laughs softly under his breath before turning his gaze back toward the water.

“You’d like it there,” he says after a moment.

“Humans seem exhausting.”

“They are.”

“You’re not helping your argument.”

“There’s good parts too.”

“Such as?”

Hyunjin looks at you then. Directly.

“New things,” he says quietly. “Places you’ve never seen before.”

The way he says it makes something ache unexpectedly inside your chest. Because suddenly this doesn’t sound like casual conversation anymore.

It sounds like an invitation.

You look away first.

The ocean shifts softly around you while the ship continues cutting through the dark water ahead.

Toward somewhere unknown. Toward tomorrow.

And for the first time since meeting Hyunjin, you start wondering what it would feel like to follow him all the way there.

You spend most of the next morning trying to convince yourself not to go.

It should be easy.

Humans are dangerous.

Everyone knows that.

You grew up listening to stories about sailors dragging creatures from the ocean just to prove they existed. About fishermen carving scales into jewelry. About pirates hunting anything strange enough to sell.

Humans destroy things they don’t understand.

That’s what you were taught.

And yet—

Hyunjin has never looked at you like something to fear.

Which honestly might be worse.

Because now you don’t know what to believe anymore.

By the time the ship finally reaches Tortuga near sunset, your stomach is tied into hopeless knots.

The island is massive compared to the quiet shorelines you’re used to.

Buildings crowd near the docks.

Lanterns glow warm against the darkening sky.

Music spills from taverns.

Voices echo everywhere.

Humans.

So many humans.

You stay hidden beneath the water near the edge of the harbor, watching nervously as sailors move back and forth across the docks carrying crates and shouting over each other.

The entire place feels loud.

Chaotic.

Alive in a way that makes your pulse jump uneasily.

Hyunjin eventually appears near the railing above, scanning the crowded harbor before his eyes finally find you beneath the water.

His expression softens instantly.

Like it always does now.

“Hey,” he calls quietly.

You drift a little closer to the ship.

“There are a lot of them.”

Hyunjin glances around once before nodding slightly.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like it.”

The admission leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Something in his expression shifts immediately afterward.

Gentler now.

More careful.

“You don’t have to come up,” he says softly.

Relief and disappointment twist together painfully in your chest.

Because part of you desperately wants him to insist.

Which is ridiculous.

Hyunjin leans his arms against the railing.

“What did your folk tell you about humans?”

You hesitate.

Then:

“That they hurt things they don’t understand.”

The noise of the harbor suddenly feels much farther away after that.

Hyunjin goes quiet for a moment.

Not offended.

Just thoughtful.

“Some of them do,” he admits eventually.

The honesty catches you off guard.

You expected denial.

Instead, he sighs softly and looks out across the crowded docks.

“Humans can be cruel,” he says quietly. “Especially when they’re afraid of something.”

Your fingers tighten slightly against the side of the ship.

“Exactly.”

“But they can also be curious,” he continues. “Kind. Stupid sometimes, but mostly harmless.”

“That sounds fake.”

Hyunjin laughs softly under his breath.

“Fair.”

You watch people moving along the harbor carefully.

None of them know you’re there.

If they did—

Your stomach twists again.

Hyunjin notices immediately.

Of course he does.

“Hey.”

His voice pulls your attention back toward him.

Softer than before.

Steady.

“You’d be with me.”

Your breath catches a little.

“That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt me.”

Hyunjin’s expression changes instantly at that.

Sharper.

Not angry at you.

Angry at the idea itself.

“Nobody’s touching you,” he says firmly.

The certainty in his voice settles somewhere deep inside your chest before you can stop it.

Dangerous.

Again.

Everything about him is becoming dangerous.

Hyunjin seems to realize how intense he sounded a second later because his expression softens again almost immediately.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says quietly.

“But if you want to see the island…” His gaze flicks briefly toward the glowing harbor before returning to you again. “I’d stay with you the whole time.”

The offer hangs between you both in the ocean air.

Warm. Gentle. Terrifying.

Because somehow the thing frightening you most right now isn’t the humans.

It’s how badly you want to say yes.

You don’t answer him immediately.

Hyunjin doesn’t push.

He just stays there against the railing while the harbor glows behind him, patient in a way you’re still not entirely used to.

The water shifts softly around your shoulders as you stare toward the crowded docks again.

Humans move everywhere: laughing, drinking, fighting

Living so loudly it almost overwhelms you.

“It hurts,” you admit quietly.

Hyunjin’s attention snaps back to you immediately.

“What does?”

You hesitate.

Suddenly embarrassed.

“Changing.”

Understanding flickers across his face slowly.

“Your tail?”

You nod once.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

Hyunjin’s expression tightens almost imperceptibly.

Real concern.

“Then don’t do it,” he says immediately.

The answer comes so quickly it catches you off guard. “What?”

“If it hurts, don’t force yourself.”

You blink at him. “Most humans would probably tell me it’s worth it.”

“Most humans are stupid.”

Despite yourself, a small laugh slips out of you.

Hyunjin smiles faintly at the sound, though the concern never fully leaves his face.

“You don’t owe anyone pain just because they’re curious about you,” he says quietly.

The words settle heavily somewhere deep in your chest.

Because nobody has ever said something like that to you before.

Your entire life has been warnings: rules, distance, fear.

But Hyunjin keeps speaking to you like your comfort matters.

Like you matter.

Dangerous.

You glance toward the docks nervously.

“What if someone sees?”

“Then they see.”

“Hyunjin.”

His expression softens slightly at your tone.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I know.”

He leans forward against the railing a little more. “Humans aren’t always kind to things they don’t understand.”

“That’s exactly what I said.”

“But,” he continues carefully, “you wouldn’t be alone.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

Because somehow that’s the part that affects you most.

Not the island.

Not the fear.

Him.

The idea of him beside you through all of it.

Hyunjin studies your face quietly for a moment before speaking again.

“You trust me a little, don’t you?”

The question is so soft it almost hurts.

You should say no.

You’ve only known him for days.

He’s a pirate.

A human.

Everything you were taught to stay away from.

And yet, you nod.

Just slightly. But it’s enough.

Something warm flashes across Hyunjin’s expression so quickly you almost miss it. Not triumph.

Something gentler than that.

Like the answer means more to him than he expected. “Okay,” he says quietly.

Then, after a second: “Then we’ll go slowly.”

Your throat tightens unexpectedly.

The harbor lights flicker gold across the water between you while distant music drifts through the air.

And for the first time since following his ship, the idea of stepping onto land doesn’t feel quite as impossible anymore.

The transformation happens near midnight.

Far away from the docks.

Far away from other people.

Hyunjin insists on that immediately.

“If you’re doing this,” he says quietly while leading you farther down the shoreline away from the crowded harbor, “I want it somewhere calm.”

The island grows quieter the farther you swim away from the main shore.

Soon the noise of taverns and sailors fades into distant echoes, replaced by waves rolling softly against the sand.

Moonlight spills silver across the shoreline.

Empty. Private. Safe.

Or at least safer.

You remain waist-deep in the water while Hyunjin crouches near the edge of the shore a few feet away, giving you space.

He hasn’t stopped watching you carefully since leaving the ship.

Like he’s worried you’ll disappear the second he looks away.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he says again softly.

You smile nervously.

“You’ve said that six times.”

“Because I mean it.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache a little. You glance toward the shoreline uncertainly.

Human land. Human air. Human life.

Everything unfamiliar waits just beyond the waves.

“What if I hate it?” you ask quietly.

Hyunjin rests his forearms against his knees, studying you in the moonlight.

“Then I’ll bring you back here immediately.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

His answer comes without hesitation.

Like there was never another option.

You stare at him for a second longer than intended.

Gods. This man is becoming a serious problem.

Slowly, you inhale. Then let yourself sink fully beneath the water. The magic starts almost immediately. Pain twists sharply through your tail, sudden enough to steal the breath from your lungs. You squeeze your eyes shut instinctively.

Bones shift. Scales split apart into warmth and skin and unfamiliar pressure. It always hurts.

Every single time.

By the time you resurface again, your breathing is uneven. The lower half of your body feels unbearably strange.

Heavy. Wrong. Legs.

Hyunjin is beside the shore instantly the moment he notices your expression tighten.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Easy.”

You grab onto a nearby rock harder, trying to steady yourself.

“I forgot how awful this feels.”

Concern flashes openly across his face now.

“Can you walk?”

“Probably.”

“That doesn’t sound convincing.”

“I’m trying to stay optimistic.”

Despite the situation, Hyunjin huffs out a quiet laugh.

Then, more carefully:

“Can I help?”

The question catches you off guard slightly.

Not because of the offer.

Because he asked.

Your entire body feels fragile right now, nerves still burning from the transformation, and somehow Hyunjin still treats you like something delicate instead of strange.

Slowly, you nod.

He steps into the shallow water carefully afterward, like he’s afraid sudden movements might scare you away.

Warm hands settle gently against your arms. Steadying. Not pushing. Just there.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

You look down uncertainly at your legs beneath the water.

“They feel fake.”

Hyunjin bites back a smile.

“That’s probably normal.”

“Easy for you to say. You were born with those.”

“True.”

“If I fall over, I’m blaming you.”

“That also feels fair.”

His hands remain lightly around your arms as you carefully step forward onto the sand for the first time.

The sensation feels deeply unnatural.

Every movement awkward.

Unsteady.

Human.

You wobble almost immediately.

Hyunjin catches you before you can fall.

One arm instinctively wrapping around your waist.

Suddenly you’re much closer than before.

Close enough to feel his warmth properly.

Close enough to hear his breathing hitch slightly too.

Neither of you moves for a second.

Hyunjin smiles softly then suddenly stops walking.

You blink up at him nervously.

“What?”

“Wait here a second.”

Suspicion immediately fills your face.

“That sounds dangerous.”

“You say that about everything.”

“Because everything you do feels suspicious.”

Hyunjin laughs softly under his breath before stepping toward a cluster of rocks farther up the shore.

You watch him crouch briefly beside something hidden near the sand before he turns back toward you again.

Holding fabric.

Oh. Your entire face warms instantly.

“I, uh…” For once, Hyunjin actually sounds awkward. “I figured you might not want to walk through town like that.”

You glance down at yourself.

Right.

Human customs.

Clothes.

Honestly, you’ve been too distracted by the existence of legs to think about it.

Hyunjin approaches slowly afterward, holding the bundle out carefully.

“I didn’t know what would fit,” he admits. “So I just… guessed.”

The confession settles strangely warmly in your chest.

Because that means he planned this.

He hoped for this.

“You bought these for me?” you ask quietly.

Hyunjin suddenly looks very interested in avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe.”

Your smile appears before you can stop it.

“That’s my answer.”

“Don’t start.”

You laugh softly as you take the clothes from him.

The fabric feels unfamiliar in your hands: soft, dry, warm from where he’d been holding it.

Human.

“How do these even work?” you mutter while unfolding one of the pieces.

Hyunjin immediately laughs. “Oh, this should be interesting.”

“You’re being incredibly unhelpful.”

“No, I’m enjoying myself immensely.”

next

[hyvnesangel]

room for one more? : ft. hyunjin and chan

⚘( ၴႅၴ summary : chan and hyunjin decide to ask their hot friend to join in!

cw : SMUT, piv, threesome, readers lowkey a perv, mentions of nudes, degradation, praise, chan calls reader and hyunjin ‘slut’ and calls hyunjin ‘good boy’, facial, squirting, switch!hyunjin, dom!chan, sub!reader, bulge kink, some mxm, fingering (f! receiving), dirty talk, cum eating, aftercare

kitty talks : thank you guys so much for 300!!!! i love yall sm mwah here’s a little gift, the freakiest and longest thing ive ever written eat up

wc : 4.8k

they saw your wandering eyes from across the studio, saw how your face grew pink when they caught you staring when they shared a kiss and saw how your thighs clenched when they’d make flirty jokes to each other.

you tried to hide your obvious crush on your two closest friends but they didn’t make it easy on you. they weren’t oblivious to your feelings, just weren’t sure how to properly bring it up without humiliating you. they’d be lying if they said they’d never thought about asking you to join them in the bedroom.

pretending to scroll through your phone, you tried to ignore their eyes that kept taking ‘sneaky’ glances at you. chan rolled over to you on his chair, getting all up in your personal space as he poked his head over your phone.

“you still going to the award ceremony with us tonight y/nnie?” he asked, his eyes wide and reminding you of the boba in your drink.

you nodded, a big grin spreading across your lips, “wanna see the dress i got?”

he matched his grin, motioning for his boyfriend to come over and see too. you pulled up a picture you had taken when you first bought the gown, a gorgeous full length navy blue and black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. you flipped your phone towards them and they ‘ooh-ed’ and ‘aahh-ed’ as they stared on with admiration.

hyunjin reached up to point out a detail on the dress, but his finger accidentally brushed against the screen, swiping to previous picture and the room fell silent. there on the screen was a video of you, plunging two of your fingers into your dripping pussy as your moans rang out.

the sound of your wet pussy squelching made you yelp, nearly dropping your phone as you scrambled to close the photos app. the video kept playing, your moans increasing in volume as you were closer to coming as you suddenly forgot how to use your phone and just turned it off, giving up and throwing it in your purse.

their eyes were wide, cheeks nearly glowing red as they looked around trying to avoid eye contact. hyunjin bit his lip as he looked down, thinking no one could see him and chan nervously giggled as he tried to calm down the situation.

“it’s uh, its a really pretty dress y/nnie, can’t wait to see it on you. we’re still picking you up?” the nickname made your stomach flip, meaning so much more to you now for whatever reason.

“sounds good, i-i gotta go…” you panicked, grasping for any excuse to leave the awkward situation, “i gotta go start getting ready.” you mumbled, grabbing your purse and walking towards the door.

chan and hyunjin both knew you didn’t actually have to start getting ready six hours before the event, but they didn’t say anything, not wanting to bring you any more humiliation. they just nodded as hyunjin opened the door for you, mentioning the time they’d be at your apartment to pick you up.

“fuck!”

the stupid zipper was stuck on your dress, resting just on the curve of your ass as you panicked, the boys were gonna be here any minute now and you still weren’t dressed. the knock on your door made your heart sink as they yelled out.

“y/n! we’re here, are you ready?” it was chans voice and you could tell by the tone of it that he was antsy to leave and make it on time.

you heard his nosy boyfriends steps patter around your floor before making it to your bedroom, seeing you struggle with the zipper, “she’s in here chan!” he shouted out, not caring for ur neighbors, “you need any help y/nnie?” hyunjin motioned towards your dress.

you huffed out, finally admitting defeat as you nodded and turned your back to him. he tried his best to not think too hard about the fact that he had a clear view of your lace panties poking out above the zipper and your matching bra peeking through just a few inches up. you could hear his quiet pants as he tried to control his breathing, tongue poking out a bit as he too struggled with the zipper.

“what’s going on in here?” chan poked his head around the door frame.

hyunjin grunted, too stubborn to admit defeat just yet, “zipper got stuck.”

chan let out a little laugh as he watched his boyfriend fight with the small piece of metal, all the anxiety leaving his voice when he saw his two favorite people, “want some help?”

hyunjin didn’t answer, just shook his head as his muscles flexed out as he tried again.

“hyune you’re gonna break it,” you whined, “it’s fine i’ll just pick a different dress really quickly.”

chan clicked his tongue, “you can’t do that y/n.”

“why not?”

“‘cause you look too good in it to change.” his voice was deep and you could swear there was something almost lustful about it but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

hyunjin shared a look with the man across from him, nodding a little to himself before stepping away from you, “although, i know how it could look even better.” he almost whispered.

you turned around and cocked an eyebrow at him, “how’s that?”

taking a daring step closer to you, chans hands came to your sides, grazing up to your waist then back to your hips as he leaned in close, “if it was off.” he whispered in your ear.

a warmth flooded to your cheeks (and your pussy) as your breath stuttered a little, “you’re joking.”

chan let out a ‘tsk’, “are we joking jinnie?”

a sudden pair of hands were laid across your shoulders and you felt hyunjins breath brush against your other ear, “not at all, we’ve been talking about this forever.”

you felt your heart nearly beat out of your chest, not sure if what was happening was actually real or just some harsh prank, “talking about what?”

“do we have to spell it out for you baby?” chans hands squeezed at your waist, pulling you in even closer his chest almost flush with yours, “we’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

your eyes went wide, “me? you wan-? the both of you!?” your head whipped around to look at hyunjin. he wore a mischievous smirk, his hands inching over your shoulders and tugging gently on the straps of your dress.

“if you’ll let us,” he mumbled as the dress sagged on your chest now that your shoulders weren’t supporting the straps.

you didn’t know what to say. you’d been dreaming of a day like this for what felt like years but now that it was actually here your words were getting caught in your throat. you stuttered, suddenly forgetting how to form sentences but thankfully they spoke for you.

“i think she’s gone all shy channie.” hyunjin giggled as he pressed soft kisses against the back of your neck, brushing your hair over your shoulders to give him perfect access.

chan hummed, pinching at the dress to pull it down over your tits slowly, “she didn’t seem all that shy when she was finger fucking herself in that video. what was the timestamp on that hyune? earlier this morning?”

you gulped, feeling your panties get soaked at their naughty words.

“did you make yourself cum before you joined us in the studio?” hyunjin taunted, helping his boyfriend remove the dress completely from your chest, letting gravity take over as it slowly fell off your hips leaving you in just your under garments.

biting your lip you nodded, feeling your body heat up under their gaze.

leaning back in, chans lips just lightly touched yours, “you know, you could’ve just asked us, we would’ve been more than happy to help.”

you shuttered, somewhere finding the courage to close the space and press your lips to his. he tasted sweet, his tongue quickly making its way into your mouth as he deepened the kiss.

hyunjin grinned as he pulled the hem of your panties away from your hips just to let it snap back against the skin, “greedy girl.”

you yelped at the slight sting from the elastic but it was quickly replaced with a moan when you felt hyunjin kiss it better. his gentle hands caressed your thighs as he hit at your panties, pulling them down your legs with his teeth, he made sure to look up at you making out with his boyfriend the entire time, the tent in his pants growing.

pulling away from the kiss, your lips all swollen, you took in the sight. chan in front of you, his lips bright red and covered in spit and hyunjin on his knees next to you, your panties in his mouth.

“look at how her pussys drooling.” hyunjin teased, wrapping his arms around your upper thigh, dangerously close to your dripping core, “i wanna taste.”

“be patient.” the older man scolded as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, throwing it to some random corner of the room.

hyunjin pouted, but did what he was told and instead left messy kisses against your legs, worshipping your body between every one, “look at how gorgeous she is chan, don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone like her before.”

chan took a step back, fully admiring your body and mumbling out ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“please,” you whimpered, eyes looking up at him pleading for one of them to do something, “please touch me.”

“what a needy girl,” he groaned, “what do you think jinnie? should we give her what she wants?”

hyunjin pulled away from the purplish marks he was now leaving on your thighs and looked up at you both, putting his finger to his chin to obnoxiously show that he was thinking, “hmmm..i think she’s been good, she deserves a reward.”

you relax at his approval and chan doesn’t waste anytime in picking you up and tossing you on the bed, the two men crawling towards you like savage animals. hyunjin planted himself between your legs, spreading your thighs apart as he gawked at your pretty pink folds. he had been dreaming of tasting your sweetness every since he had met you and now he was lucky enough to be face to face with your dripping cunt, leaving little wet spots on the sheets below you.

chan nearly ripped off his pants before he straddled your head, his achingly hard cock loomed over you. he and hyunjin had been fantasizing about this, planning exactly how’d they fuck you since you waltzed into their lives.

“you’ll let us know if we get too rough?” chan asked, knowing how he could lose control when he got this horny.

you nodded, sticking out your tongue to flick at his tip, tasting his salty pre cum. he groaned and nearly died when he felt you wrap your lips around his throbbing tip, sucking gently, just enough to tease him.

“fuck you’re such a little slut you know that?” he pumped the tip in and out of your mouth, going a little deeper each time, watching your eyes brim with tears as he filled your mouth.

between your legs, hyunjin began to pepper small kiss all over your thighs before finally pressing a sloppy one against your folds. you gasped around the cock in your mouth and chan took the opportunity to push in even deeper, relishing in your sweet gags.

hyunjins tongue poked past your folds and flicked at your clit, holding down your thighs as they tried to clench around his head.

“let me pleasure you baby.” he mumbled into your pussy, licking a fat stripe from your hole back up to your clit, letting the drool messily spill out from the corner of his mouth. the lewd slurping sounds just edged you on even more, your hip subconsciously grinding on his face.

chan above you looked like he was in heaven, head thrown back and lips parted as he breathed out small praises, his hips keeping a solid pace as his tip bruised the back of your throat.

“fuck baby you take my cock so well,” his hands reached down, grabbing the sides of your face to give himself better leverage as his thrusts gaining speed, “such a good cock slut aren’t you?”

your head nodded the best it could give the situation as you choked around his girth, drool dripping around his cock and down your chin.

“god baby you’re a messy slut too, isn’t she hyune?” chan taunted, one of his hands reaching back to ruffle his boyfriends hair.

hyunjin pulled away from your pussy, his lips swollen and covered in your arousal, strings of spit still connecting him to your core, “so messy..her pussy tastes so good hyung.” he mumbled before diving back in, tongue fucking you like a starved man. your moans came out as gurgles with chan filling your mouth and you reached down to grip at the younger man’s hair.

“oh i think baby’s close jinnie, make the slut cum.” chan cooed, reaching over to lovingly wipe away at the tears that were dripping down your cheeks.

hyunjins movements didn’t stop, instead his lips moved back up to suck on your clit as two of his fingers prodded at your entrance. god his fingers were so long, the cold metal of his rings making your back arch off the bed as they teased your hole. your grip on his hair tightened as you felt your high approaching fast, grinding your pussy against his face.

“yea you gonna cum baby?” chan grunted, his thrusts growing sloppy in your throat as you felt him throb, “gonna cum with you baby, gonna cover you in cum like the slut you are.”

your choked moans grew louder as your thighs clenched around hyunjins head, gushing around his fingers and coating his chin with your fluids. chan pulled out, finally giving you the chance to catch your breath, as he jerked his cock over you, his cum spurting out in ropes and covering your face. he gasped out as he teased his own tip, overstimulating himself as the last of him sees dropped out onto your lips.

a head popped up from between your legs, your arousal still dripping from his chin, and he looked blissed out, eyes blown wide with lust. hyunjin scrambled up to bed to sit beside you, whispering praises to you as he licked his boyfriends cum off your face.

“you did so good baby, your pussy tastes so good, thank you,” he mumbled against your lips, letting you taste the mixture of chan and your own cum on his lips.

it was filthy and sloppy but you couldn’t hide the way your tummy fluttered, feeling your cunt get wet yet again. chan growled as he gripped the back of hyunjins hair, pulling him away from your kiss and bringing him closer to kiss him himself.

you grinned as you watched the boys makeout in front of you. it was messy and addictive, the way hyunjin desperately grabbed at chans biceps, the way chan bit at the hyunjins bottom lip and the strings of spit that kept them connected when they pulled away to catch their breath.

“i think someone’s enjoying the show.” chan teased, still panting from the steamy kiss as he turned to look at you.

you shrugged, “can’t deny what i like.”

hyunjin whined dramatically, already having removed his belt and working to take off his boxers, “can i fuck her channie? please?” he jutted out his bottom lip, knowing exactly what buttons to push in his boyfriend, he leaned in close to the man’s ear, “i’ll be good, i’ll fuck her so good, you know i will.”

chan rolled his head back, groaning out at the filthy words, feeling himself get hard at the thought of hyunjin fucking you, “of course you can baby, you wanna be a good boy and suck my cock too?”

hyunjin desperately nodded, already drooling at the mere mention of having cock in his mouth. his boxers were ripped off and thrown to the side as he scrambled to lay against the mountain of pillows on your bed. he waved two fingers to you, motioning you to come closer as he slowly stroked his cock. it was long with a blushing pink tip, already leaking pre cum, and one prominent vein stretching up the shaft. you crawled towards him, making a show of swaying your ass knowing chan had his eyes glued on you two.

you straddled hyunjins waist, letting your pussy brush against his tip, his pre cum mixing with your wetness. he bit back a moan, reaching down to line his cock up with your dripping entrance, gasping out at the feeling of you slowly sitting down on his length. his cock stretched you out deliciously, filling you completely and he wasn’t even all the way in yet. you whined, throwing your head back to see chan stroking his own cock, biting at his lip as he saw your cunt swallow his boyfriends dick.

“feel good baby?” chan hummed, moving closer to get a better look.

hyunjin was too blissed out to talk, opened his mouth but no words came out, just broken moans as your hips sunk even deeper, taking him to the hilt.

chan turned to face you, still stroking his cock, “how ‘bout our y/nnie? hm? does his cock feel good in your tight little pussy?”

you panted, “s-so big..ngh-feel so full..”

“i know baby, he’s big isn’t he?” chan mumbled as he positioned his cock in front of hyunjins lips, “open for me jinnie.”

hyunjin did as he was told, his mouth parting as he looked up at his boyfriend with wide eyes, drool already dripping from his bottom lip.

“such good little sluts me for yea?” he hummed as his tip pushed passed hyunjins lips, he whimpered at the feeling of being used and how your hips started to move, grinding down on him as your pussy sucked him in.

his tip was poking that sweet spot in you deliciously and you had to hold back from moaning like a porn star at how good it felt. hyunjin reached down to guide your hips to keep a steady bouncing rhythm, the sound of skin slapping and wet squelching from your pussy and his mouth was utterly filthy but it made you that much more wet.

your tits bounced with every movement you made and when hyunjin wasn’t longingly gazing up at his boyfriend as he face fucked him, he had his eyes locked on your chest, nearly hypnotized by your breasts. chans thrusts were rough, he knew how much hyunjin could handle and knew he liked it rough so chan didn’t hold back, balls slapping against his chin as he reached down to wipe away his tears with a taunting smile.

hyunjins cheeks were hollowed, trying to suck the man dry as his own hips started to buck up into yours, growing more desperate to reach his high. you leaned back, resting your hands on the bed to leverage yourself as you matched his speed, feeling your second orgasm approaching fast.

“fuck! h-hyune im g-gonna cum…” you babbled out, your eyes rolling back as he rubbed against your puffy pink walls.

chan darkly chuckled, “you hear that jinnie? you’re gonna make her cum, make our sweet girl cum.”

hyunjin nodded and hummed around his boyfriends cock, eyes filled with nothing but lust and love as he looked between the two of you. chan threw his head back at the vibrations as his control slipped, grabbing the sides of hyunjins head and pounding into his mouth roughly. his gags were echoing through your apartment and you’re sure that you’d get a noise complaint for all the moans and such but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as you reached down to rub at your clit.

your second orgasm hit harder than the first, slamming your hips back down flush with hyunjins as you shook, gushing around his cock with broken sobs. your orgasm triggered hyunjins and he cried around chans cock, his grip getting tighter on your hips as he shot his load deep inside you, painting your walls white. his cum trickled out of your pussy, making a sticky mess between both of your hips.

chan grunted and with one final harsh thrust, came down hyunjins throat, ignoring the scratching on his thighs from the younger man. when chan finally pulled out of his mouth, hyunjin let his tongue roll out, letting chans cum drip off and onto his chest.

a moan slipped out past your lips at the sight and you were quick to cover your mouth as if that would take back the noise. they both turned to you, smirking. hyunjin drew back in his tongue and swallowed the rest of the cum thickly, leaning in closer to you.

“y/n,” he whined, hands gripping at your hips, moving just enough to remind you his cock was still deep inside your ruined cunt, “i think channie wants to fuck you.” he giggled, his tone lowering to a whisper as if the man next to you two couldn’t hear you.

chan clicked his tongue, “what gave it away?” he glanced down at his cock, his finger swiping some pre cum on his tip and pressing it into your mouth. you looked up at him through your lashes, making a show of sloppily sucking on his finger.

he growled, “fuck, you’re such a little cock slut, do you want my cock baby?”

you didn’t hesitate with a nod, popping his fingers out of his mouth to beg, “please chan, please i want your cock so bad.”

he leaned in, taking your lips in his and pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, “you’ve already came twice and yet you still want more? such a greedy little pussy.”

his fingers trailed down to where hyunjin was still balls deep inside you.

“you’re still full of cock and you still need more?” his condescending tone made your stomach flip and you suddenly felt to shy to make eye contact.

chan cooed, “don’t go all shy on us now baby, you were just begging for more,” he hooked his finger under your chin and lifted your head up, lowering his voice, “be a good little slut and get on all fours for us.”

your hips lifted off of hyunjins length, cum immediately leaking from your cunt when his tip popped out. the man whimpered at the loss of your warm pussy wrapped around him but was quickly shut up by chan pressing his lips to his. your fingers reached down, collecting some of his cum and bringing it to your lips, moaning at the taste. you rolled off of the man’s lap and did as you were told, getting on all fours and even taking the extra step to stick your ass up, swaying your hips slightly to get their attention.

chan nearly growled at the sight, whispering something in hyunjins ear as he hungrily glared at you. you looked on with confusion as hyunjin got up off the bed, moving to stand in front of you, pumping his long cock in front of your face. you didn’t even realize chan had moved behind you until you felt hands gripping your ass, spreading you open to get a better view of your swollen pussy. you gasped as the cool air hit your pussy, your hole clenching around nothing.

“such a greedy pussy always needs to be filled with cock to keep you happy.” he murmured before shoving his dick in with no warning, his thrusts much more demanding and desperate.

your eyes rolled back as he filled you to the brim, he was a bit shorter than hyunjin but god, he was thicker, you felt like you were getting broken open as he harshly pounded into you.

in front of you, hyunjin was much more gentle, lightly rubbing his tip against your lips before pushing it in, waiting for you to adjust to his size before pushing farther down your throat. the stark contrast between the two was driving you crazy. chan gripped your hips, pulling you onto his dick to match his fast pace, the movement jolting you farther onto hyunjins cock, gagging loudly around his length.

hyunjin choked out a moan, “chan-fuck! she feels so good!”

the man behind you chuckled darkly, “yea baby? her throat feel good around your cock?” he grunted with every clap of skin.

hyunjin whimpered as he started to lose control, his thrusts growing more rapid and rough, your nose getting buried in his pelvic bone. the messy squelching sound from your dripping pussy filled the room along with skin slapping and gagging.

chan was so close, absolutely lost in the feeling of your velvety smooth walls sucking him in, he was in pure bliss, “fuck baby you want me to cum inside? want me to cum in this pretty cunt?”

you couldn’t form coherent sentences, mouth too full of dick and brain too fucked dumb to think so you instead babbled out something that sounded like a ‘yes’ and ‘please’ around hyunjins cock.

“such a good little cum slut.” he moaned out, his grip now leaving marks on your hips as he slammed in, emptying his balls inside you. you were so full the mix of chan and hyunjins cum spilled out around his cock, dripping down your thighs.

hyunjins hips stuttered, trying his best to keep a calm composure but his breathless moans gave him away, “m-muse-ngh! can i please cum i-in your throat?”

you didn’t say anything-couldn’t- so you just looked up at him with a pleading look and that was enough for him. he gripped the back of your hair into a ponytail, pushing you into his hips as he came down your throat. you felt so full, filled from both ends you didn’t know where you started and where they stopped.

chan didn’t stop after he came, starting his thrusts back up as he reached around to rub your clit, “you wanna cum for us again baby? give us a third orgasm?”

hyunjin finally left your mouth with a wet pop, letting you catch your breath and gasp out a response, “yes! please! wanna cum so bad..”

chan looked to his boyfriend and grinned as he rubbed your poor sensitive nub faster, bringing you to your third orgasm quickly. your breath caught in your throat and you cried out, body crumbling into the bed as you shook, it was so beautifully intense it felt like nothing you’d felt before. when your body had finally calmed down and your breathing had slowed, chan pulled out, watching with a bitten lip at the mixture of all three of your cum drip out.

“so pretty.” he mumbled as he carefully got off the bed, urging hyunjin to sit down beside you and rest.

he left the room and quickly returned with some wet wash cloths and some tissues, making his way over to his two little angels. he started with you, being careful when wiping the cum off to not accidentally overstimulate you, then took a tissue and wiped away all your smeared and tear stained makeup. chan then turned to hyunjin, copying his same movements from before, then cleaning himself up.

“such good sweet angles,” he murmured as he tossed the tissues and cloths away, “you two did so good for me you know that?”

hyunjin rolled over so his arms were draped on you and whined dramatically, “do we still have to go to the award ceremony?”

chan turned to you and cocked his eyebrow, “can y/n even stand properly?”

you shook your head, wrapping your arms around hyunjin and bringing him in closer. your eyes felt heavy and you felt yourself get drowsy as you buried your face into the younger man’s hair, breathing in his perfume. chan cooed at the sight, grabbing at his heart before joining you two in bed, laying behind you so his chest was pressed to your back and his arms wrapped around you both.

“i mean it, you guys really did do so good..thank you.” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss into your hair, his hand rubbing comforting circles on his boyfriends back.

you hummed back, “you did good too chan, felt really good, you both were amazing, thank you.”

you both waited for hyunjin to respond but the only noise from him were quiet snores as he sleepily cuddled closer into your chest. chan softly chuckled into your hair, reassuring you that you could go to bed too, they’d both be there when you woke up.

taglist : @stryscribbles @bakapd003 @sids-gifts @itzkaitlynm @v3n7s @brivip @b4echo @kloversung

[miinhoo]

. SHARING IS CARING??﹒ 𓂃 ˖ ࣪⊹

thinking about bf!chan sharing you with your friend hyunjin is driving me nuts. i'm so insane about these two, i could kill for a good fuck session with BOTH of them at a time. imgoinginsane (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)

tags : contains mature themes, threesome, unprotected sex, oral (both m and f receiving), dom!bf!chan, sub!friend!hyunjin, voyeurism, exhibitionism, slight breeding kink, and more

all credits to @miinhoo on tumblr, other socials on my profile.

You and Chan have been a lovely couple for a while now, everyone knows. But since that guy had barely any free time, you decided to hang out with all of them when there was a chance to do so.

It was a late Sunday night, but Chris denied to go to sleep just yet. He‘a been working on a new song together with Hyunjin and you were their sweet company for tonight.

Hyunjin was just peacefully sitting on a bed of this fancy hotel room you three booked, being cuddled up to you since he always got very clingy in your presence. You pat his head as he scrolled through his phone, teasing stay on bubble with some new selfies he took when he arrived back to Korea.

Chris hummed the melody over and over again as he made sure the vocals fit just perfect to the beat of the song. The window was slightly open, letting the fresh air get into the room. Everything seemed so calm and lovely, not a single bad emotion in this room.

“I have to say that you did so well today, Hyunjin.” Chris broke the comfortable silence and spun around his chair, giving the guy next to you a warm, proud smile. “I knew you could do this, good job.” He added and your hand gave the mentioned guy a soft pat as a reward.

You watched Hyunjin’s cheeks turn into soft shade of pink from all those praises. The little kid inside of him screamed with joy and satisfaction.

He deserved a kiss on the cheek and so you gave him one, adding even more into his redness. “Channie’s right, you did wonderful.” You confirm your boyfriend’s statement and brush his hair with your cold fingers.

“I don’t know what to say… I’m flattered.” Hyunjin mumbled quietly and leaned closer to you, placing his head on your shoulder. He was clearly enjoying these praises.

And Chris knew that damn well. “You made him all red, baby.” Your man said and walked up to you both, placing his warm hand on your cheek. “What a tease you are.” He leaned above you, pulling you closer by your waist just enough to give you a long, sloppy kiss.

Feeling him close again made you feel safe and sound, but for Hyunjin? He was left being needy for your attention, praises and touch. He pouted as he watched Chris’s tongue slip into your mouth, wetting your lips so perfectly. Your sweet voice felt like a melody to him.

“Look at what you’re doing to me, to him.” Your boyfriend chuckled in a low tone as he noticed Hyunjin’s eyes being all locked up on you. “You know he has a thing for praises, don’t you? Can’t you see the eagerness in his eyes?”

Something about this whole situation made you feel thrilled… That slight buzzing in your ears as your body grew all warm. You and Chris previously talked about how interested he is in watching you get so close to the other members. He’s a jealous type, no doubt on that one, but knowing he can show them what all they’re missing in a matter of seconds is putting fuel into his deepest, darkest desires.

“I’m not…It’s not like that.” Hyunjin looked away. But his eyes, voice, body… It spoke for itself. Hunger. Need. He couldn't help but watch you squirm under his touch.

Chris clicked his tongue against his inner cheek, sitting next to you both. “But you agree with me that she’s beautiful, don’t you?” He teased his younger member with that slick smile again. "I can see the way you stare."

Hyunjin didn’t say a thing, just nodded at his silly little question.

“Won’t you give him a few more kisses? Let me prove my point.” And you already knew what he was implying to with this. Just what was all of this sudden heat that filled up the room? “Neck.”

And then you smiled. Roguishly. Chris’s command felt like a playful dare that you wanted to accomplish. And soon you found yourself leaning closer to him, legs spreading as you sat on his lap, kissing his neck so freaking gently.

That hitched breath he let out, it made you feel things you shouldn’t even think about. Ever. You led the kisses down his neck, so damn close to his collarbone. He enjoyed it, and you could tell. It didn't take much before he grew hard underneath you, aching at every praise that your boyfriend gave you.

"Does this make you finally understand? How fucked up you can make someone just by those lips of yours?" Chris leaned in to both of you, taking a fistful of your hair, only to move them aside. His lips brushed against your skin, and you whined into the air. "I'm feeling generous today."

"Chan-hyung..." Hyunjin placed his hands on your hips, studying your curves like you were some precious piece of art... His hips jerked upwards into you. He couldn't help it, all of this was too much, and he sought more. "Have you planned this? Both of you..." His melodic voice turned into quiet pleas. "Are you trying to murder me? Oh..." The air thickened with every kiss you placed onto his skin.

You could feel the fabric of your panties getting all soaked up. It was actually happening. Something you talked about with your boyfriend, something that you imagined in your dirty fantasies once in a while thanks to him too. A threesome with the second most delightful member of your boyfriend's group.

Chris rushed a hand through Hyunjin’s hair, tugging just a little to make him whine, tilting his head back a little as you brushed your nose against the skin of his Adam’s apple. “That’s it, baby, look at him. Such a mess, isn’t he?” He talked you both through this moment, watching over you like a wild eagle.

“Please, I…” Hyunjin’s words cut out as he didn’t even know what he begged for. His hands tugged on your shirt and pulled you just a little closer. “Do something, I’ve been good..”

The crack in his voice made you shiver. You never thought you’d see him begging like this, being so submissive under your touch.

Chris hissed at the sight of you looking up at him, waiting for his next commands like a little puppy. “Gosh, I can’t just stand back and stare at you.” His raspy voice made your core cry with need. Your man lifted you up and placed you carefully on the bed right in front of your friend. “I wanna show you off, baby. Show him all.”

His hands trailed down your body, down to the hem of your favourite sweatpants you just wore now. The cold air hit your exposed thighs. Your lips met with his as he finally leaned over you. Having Hyunjin watch you both as you two make out hungrily was somehow so thrilling, more than exciting.

Hyunjin impatiently waited to get some attention too. The problem in his pants was hurting him, yet he couldn’t do anything more than watch and imagine how satisfied Chris must feel everytime he’s deep inside of you, having you clenching around his cock.

Your boyfriend’s finger traced against your wet panties, pulling them to the side just a little to make Hyunjin bite his lip in nervousness. “Tell me baby, who got you this messed up? Me or him?” The devilish smile spread across his face as his finger collected small amount of your juices and spread it around, wetting his finger up. “Or perhaps… Both of us? You name it.”

Suddenly, your ability to talk was gone, just like that. The amount of embarrassment you felt as you noticed Hyunjin nearly drooling at the sight of your spread legs was insane… Your mind was filled up with the most unhinged thoughts and desires. You definitely wanted this. For Chris to show you off to his other member like he’s the luckiest man out there.

Chris looked over his shoulder to see Hyunjin’s fucked expression. “What is it? Your eyes speak hunger and need, is that it?” His teasing words made you bite your lip in excitement. Just what were his plans?

Hyunjin just nodded, settling himself closer to you both. “Chan-hyung, can I?.. Just to taste.” He trembles under his elder's stare but nearly jumps with enthusiasm when his hyung approves his request. The bed creaked under Hyunjin from how quick and clumsily he moved towards you and your open thighs. “Gosh…”

You couldn’t help but look at him with indignation as he went down on you. His warm breath echoed against your skin like a poisonous cloud, warming you up. “Hyune..” You let out a melodious whine as he moves the fabric of your underwear aside, tracing his slick and long fingers against your folds.

“That’s it, good boy… Use your mouth too.” Chris commanded him and placed his hand on his head, curling his silk hair gently. “You’re gonna do as I say, hm?”

Oh, Hyunjin was losing it already. The view, the touch, the praises, and commands. “Y-yes, hyung…” his voice shaken. He didn’t even hesitate to lean down in between your legs, digging right into his meal like a hungry animal. His lips met your folds, and he hummed into your skin as he finally got to taste you.

Something about those vibrations from his low hums made you arch your back, holding onto the sheets. The air thickened, everything became so intense. “Hyune…” This was something new, and you were willing to give it a try. After all, you trusted your boyfriend more than anyone.

Hearing you moan his name out like that made him throb uncontrollably. That man looked like he’s been waiting for this for so long, like he’s been starving for weeks, months. He looked up at you with tears in his eyes. So lost in the moment.

Sure, you imagined a lot of interesting scenarios, but thinking that this would ever come true is simply insane. There was no way you could deny that you enjoyed the presence of these two fine men, not a chance. Your lips formed into the slight “o” every time his nose rubbed against your clit.

Chris took the chance to lean in and kiss those pretty lips of yours, adding so much to this whole thing. “Is he doing well, baby? Is he better than me?” He asked, already knowing the answer to that. Both of you knew that there was no man better at devouring you than he is.

You shook your head in denial and grabbed onto the hem of his gray sweatpants. He was rock hard underneath those… And you wanted to help him relax as well. “Please, I- I need you. Want you...” You begged and watched his lips form into a playful smirk. “Chan-“

Hyunjin took his time pleasing you with whatever he could. His finger curled up inside of you as he flicked his tongue against your clit. “Chan-hyung… -‘s too much.” The younger whined and pressed himself against the mattress to feel some friction too.

"Look at how pathetic he behaves, you got him like that, baby." Your boyfriend hissed and slid his finger against your lip in a slow, steady motion. "Wanna make him watch." Oh, that made you eager for him. Chris pushed Hyunjin mindlessly aside, getting above you.

You watched his veiny hands getting lower down his abdomen, sliding his sweatpants and boxers down to set himself free. He was huge. That guy had a lack of self-confidence, but when it comes to dicking you down... Oh, trust me, he enjoyed the view of you breaking down beneath him more than anything.

It took a few seconds till he pressed his shaft against you, making both you and Hyunjin stare in awe. Suddenly, everything felt like your first time with him. The embarrassment, the fear of sounding or looking awful... And all of that because your boyfriend's friend watched.

But who was Chris to keep you waiting when you were clearly so impatient for all of this? He moved himself forward into your hips, one, two times, until you broke down for the first time, stretching you out real nice. Grunts leave his lips at the way you moan breathlessly at each motion, scrambling to grab onto the pillow, the sheets, him, anything - just to ground your body.

As for the other guy sitting next to you both... He was completely in shock. The way you arched, moved, reacted to every thrust he's given you. It was impossible to sit back and not enjoy this, but that boy was too shy to even take a breath while you're next to him.

"There we go, you can take it, pretty. Just a liiiittle more." He groaned and pressed his hand against the bulge of your tummy, which was getting filled up so sweetly. "Shit, does this make you nervous? You're so tight, clenching all over me. Is it him? You like being watched?"

You nod and look over at Hyunjin for the first time since he's pulled away from your thighs. His eyes sparkled with amazement, pure neediness. You squirmed and felt your walls clench around your boyfriend as you noticed Hyunjin's rock-hard problem through his pants. What a poor boy, he's been leaking too, messing himself up.

"Oh fuck, baby. That's it... You take me so well, good job..." He praised you and looked over his shoulder to see his younger member trying to keep his shit together, and then back at you again. "Come on, use your pretty lips and give him a reward for today. He's done so well at the recording after all."

You knew he was serious when he said it in that fucked up teasing voice he always used to either praise you or humiliate the shit out of you. It would be a shame to leave him out of this now, especially after noticing how intoxicating this was for Hyunjin.

It was difficult for you to handle your boyfriend's thrusts while reaching for your friend's dick, giving it a nice squeeze through his stained pants. But there you were, helping him spring himself free. His tip was coloured in such a pink way, pre-cum spreaded all over.

Hyunjin let out a delirious squeal at the sight of you taking him closer to your mouth, lips pressing against his leaking tip, tongue collecting the wetness you caused him. "Fuck, I-..." His hips buckled under the tension. "I don't think I can..."

"Hold on much longer? You gonna cum, ah?" Chris finished his sentence for him. One thrust switched another, fucking himself up into you as you take his friend's dick down your throat for the first time. "Oh, you're so fucking hot, baby. Goooood girl." His fingers curved around your throat, feeling you gulp down all those spits.

You swore you could feel Chris's dick kiss your cervix so nicely. You were never this fucking turned on before like you were now. Choking on your friend's dick while having your boyfriend buried deep in your leaking cunt felt so wrong, but right at the same time. The air was filled with nothing but dirty words and filthy breath. Your vision went blurry as you felt the coil in your tummy rumble up with every word Chris said.

Was this really happening? You still couldn't believe,

Chris growled. “Feel me in here, my pretty baby? I'm gonna fill you up so fucking bad, make it stay in there with my cock, yeah? You're gonna.. Oh fuck-" He was losing it as well.

Hyunjin whined out in a melodic voice, breaking down as he trembled, feeling his high approaching him fast. The dirty talk? The touches? His fucked up wet dream came true, and he's living for it. "M' sorry- I..."

And there he was, pumping his load into your mouth, shaking with every pump you've given him to get him through his orgasm. That's when it hit you too. Your mind went blank, and you saw the stars. Your legs collapsed under him just like that as you came onto your boyfriend's dick like it's your first time.

He gasped, his hips stuttering, pace faltering. Hand leaving your throat to grip your hips as his thrusts turn sloppy and shaky. "Fucking take it—take all of it." He shoved himself in one final time and came. The deepest he could. His warm, thick load flooded your cunt in such a delightful way as he worked himself up through his high.

All of you were fucked up, taking deep and heavy breaths like you just ran a marathon. Your legs were all shaky. Hyunjin's vocals all raspy from the whining. Chris's nails still dug into the skin of your hips, not letting go just yet.

This was more than just a dirty reward; it was a dream come true. The dirtiest, most unhinged, and sluttiest dream you and your boyfriend ever had.

[whatifthisaintreal]

Some one should write a threesome with chan and jeongin considering the maknae’s addition to the the onlychans club cus

WTF IS CHAN TEACHING HIM!?!

AND WHY IS IT WORKING!?!

Like please i wanna read a threesome so bad on this anything will do writers 😭😭😭

[madaboutminho]

Call It The End (AU)

Pairing: fwb!lee know x gn!reader

Summary: what you had going with Lee Know had always been casual, no feelings involved… right?

Warnings: heavy angst, no happy ending sorry not sorry

Word count: 2.1k.

a/n: I was originally gonna make this longer and give it a happy ending… but where’s the fun in that? 😏 I’m also recovering from sepsis from some weird abdominal infection so please forgive me if this is trash xo

Meeting Minho hadn’t been intentional, and neither was your situation…ship.

You certainly hadn’t meant for it to become something you couldn’t name, let alone a ‘ship’ of any kind.

You’d met through Han, who’d said he needed help moving his things into the flat he was going to share with his new flatmate. What he’d failed to mention was that said roommate looked like he’d walked straight off the damn runway. You’d told Han as much, and he hadn’t hesitated in spilling the beans to his new acquaintance.

“It’s bonding, Y/N! You understand, right?”

And who were you to begrudge him of such a request?

It didn’t matter anyway. It had given you a way into Minho’s life and Minho’s bed.

In the beginning, it was simple; almost clinical in its clarity. No expectations, no questions, no lingering. Just you and him, and the quiet understanding that whatever this was would stay contained within late nights and half-lit rooms. Lee Know—Minho, when it was just the two of you—had been the one to lay it out, voice steady, eyes unreadable.

“No complications,” he’d said.

And you’d nodded, like that was exactly what you wanted. Because for a while, it was.

You learned the rhythm of him in fragments. The way he’d text you at odd hours of the night (never any earlier, and never during the day). The way he’d lean against your doorframe like he owned the space without ever saying it. The way he touched you—careful, almost detached at first, like he was testing the boundaries of something neither of you wanted to define.

It worked because it didn’t mean anything.

Except now it does.

You’d started noticing it in the small things first—the ones that don’t fit the rules you both pretended to follow. He began staying longer than he used to… Not always, not enough to call it a habit, but enough that you’ve started waking up with him still there, sprawled across your sheets like he forgot he was supposed to leave.

Sometimes he doesn’t even touch you. He just lies there, scrolling through his phone or watching you like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask once, half-laughing, half-nervous.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just tilts his head slightly, expression unreadable in that way that used to make this easy. “Like what?”

You don’t know how to explain it. Like you matter more than you should. Like he’s seeing you outside of this—whatever this is.

“Never mind,” you mutter, turning away.

But you feel it anyway. The shift. Subtle, but undeniable.

And the worst part is—you don’t know when exactly it happened.

Was it the night he showed up without texting first, looking tired in a way you’d never seen before, and let you pull him inside without a word? Or the time he stayed until morning and made coffee like he belonged there, like this wasn’t just something temporary?

Or was it you?

The way you stopped pretending you didn’t wait for his messages. The way you started memorising the quiet parts of him, not just the physical ones. The way his name—Minho—feels softer now, heavier, like it carries something you’re not supposed to acknowledge.

You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in your hand, staring at his last text.

You up?

Same as always. No context needed.

It should feel the same, but it doesn’t.

Your thumb hovers over the screen, hesitation curling in your chest. Because for the first time, you’re not sure what it means to answer. Not just for tonight—but after.

Not just what you’re doing, what you are.

Friends don’t feel like this. And benefits aren’t supposed to come with the kind of silence that lingers after he leaves, the kind that makes your apartment feel too big, too empty, too aware of his absence.

You exhale slowly, pressing your lips together.

There should be a word for this. Something clean, something defined. Something that tells you where the lines are, so you know when you’ve crossed them.

But there isn’t.

There’s just him.

And you.

And whatever this is becoming.

Music throbbed through the walls of their flat, the bass heavy enough to shake the framed photos hanging crooked in the hallway (Han’s work, without a doubt). The whole flat was alive – people laughing too loudly, drinks sloshing from red cups, perfume and sweat thick in the air.

But none of that mattered to you.

Not when your eyes had been locked on him all night.

Lee Know leaned against the kitchen counter, exuding an air of quiet confidence, his dark hair tousled, his lips curved into that familiar smirk you knew far too well. The same smirk that had always made your heart trip over itself, even when you tried to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Friends with benefits.

Casual.

No strings attached.

That was the deal. Your treacherous heart just refused to continue acknowledging it as such.

Your own heart was to blame for the slow, crushing pain of your ribs every time he laughed at something the girl he was flirting with said.

The girl was standing too close to him, had been for the past ten minutes since she approached him to strike up a conversation. She touched his arm, tilting her head with a flirtatious smile, and Minho didn’t move away. Your stomach sank, but you told yourself not to care. You had no claim to him. No right to be jealous.

But that didn’t stop the feeling from burning hot and vicious in your chest, leaving you breathless. It didn’t stop your fingers from tightening around your drink until your hand shook from the grip you had on the bottle. It most definitely didn’t stop the horrible ache that took your breath away when his eyes met yours from across the room. It was just a second, a fleeting glance, but instead of reassurance, instead of that secret softness that you sometimes caught when you were alone together…

He looked away.

And followed her down the hall, hand in hand.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. No. You must be mistaken. There was surely some kind of misunderstanding here, wasn’t there? Maybe-

Maybe it was you who had misunderstood where you were at with the situationship, because Minho had disappeared into his bedroom down the hall, the bedroom you had been in many times before, but this time you weren’t the one with him.

The world around you blurred. The party became a muffled noise, distant and distorted, drowned out by the roar of panic in your ears. You thought you could hear Han calling to you, but you were too focused on the closed door down the hall.

You shouldn’t follow them, you know you shouldn’t, but your feet are moving before your brain can stop them – down the hall, past strangers huddled close against walls – towards that closed door. Your hand trembled as you reached for the handle and pushed the door open.

And then your heart shattered right there in your chest.

Minho was pressed up against the wall, the girl pressed against him, her mouth on his. His hands were on her waist, resting under the loose fabric of her top. His lips – those pouty lips that had kissed you like you were the only person in the world, uttered your name in hushed reverence – were kissing someone else.

For one sickening second, nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

And then his eyes snapped open and over to you, frozen in the doorway, hand still on the door handle. He tore his lips away from the girl in front of him, shock flooding his features.

“Y/N, no-”

Your stomach twisted so violently you thought you might actually throw up on the spot. It wasn’t just pain. It was devastation. It felt like every stolen night, every lingering touch, every quiet moment where you’d stupidly let yourself hope, had all been some cruel misinterpretation.

Your chest caved in.

“… Oh.”

It was barely a whisper. Broken. Humiliating.

Much like how you were feeling.

You saw the girl pull away from him out of the corner of your eye, no doubt confused about the change in events, but you couldn’t look away from the man in front of you. The man you thought you had something with, even if you hadn’t labelled it yet.

Your vision blurred with tears as another wave of nausea rolled through you. “Sorry- I- wrong room,” you choked out, backing out of the room and away from his outstretched hand.

“Wait-!”

You were already gone, turning tail and stumbling out of the room, the broken pieces of your heart sharp and piercing with every ragged breath you sucked into your struggling lungs.

The music was still pounding, and people were still dancing. The party hadn’t stopped just because your world had flipped on its axis. You thought you might have passed Han on the way, but you didn’t stop to check, too focused on getting out of the party, the flat.

Somewhere behind you, Minho stood frozen in the wreckage of the one thing he hadn’t realised he was about to lose.

The cold night air hit your skin the second you burst through the door to the busy street below the building, but it did nothing to soothe the sick, suffocating heat of humiliation clawing its way up your throat.

Your breaths came out uneven, tears blurring the streetlights into smeared gold. You barely made it halfway down the street before you heard him.

“Wait!” Footsteps pounded behind you. “Y/N, please-” His voice cracked on your name as his hand caught your wrist, gentle but desperate, spinning you around to face him.

Minho looked wrecked.

His hair was messy, his lips still swollen from kissing, his chest rising and falling too fast. Panic was written all over his face, his eyes wide and frantic as they searched yours. “Please, just let me explain.”

You let out a soft, broken laugh, pulling your arm from his grasp. “Explain what? That I interrupted something I had no business in?”

“No!” he stated immediately, stepping closer, his own voice trembling. “It’s not like that. At all. I promise.”

“Then what was it like, Minho?” You could feel your tears racing down your face, hot and heavy. “Because from where I was standing, it looked pretty clear.”

His face crumpled at your words. “The kiss doesn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything-”

The words hit like a slap. You physically flinched, and judging by the horror that immediately flooded his features, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. “God,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair, his breathing ragged. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Of course it isn’t,” you muttered, voice hollow now. You felt exhausted, run through by the destroying feeling of disappointment. “None of this means anything, right?”

He stared at you, wounded by your words. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your chest heaved as you wiped furiously at your tears, searching for some much-needed calm. “Because I have no right to be upset, do I?”

He opened his mouth, but you didn’t let him speak. “I have no claim over you. We’re not together.” Your voice cracked on the last word; each word felt like dragging broken glass from your throat, but you refused to break down any further. At least, not until you were home and no one could see you.

You took a final, steadying breath, squaring your shoulders. “We’re just sleeping together, Lee Know.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Minho looked like you’d just physically injured him with your words. His eyes glistened, heartbreak so raw on his face that your knees almost buckled under the weight of it.

“Don’t say it like that,” he whispered.

“Why?” you shot back. “Isn’t that what this is?”

“No.” His answer came instantly. It was firm, emotional, but you were too shattered to notice.

“Then what is it?” you cried, begging for an answer.

His lips parted, and for one devastating moment, it seemed like he was finally going to say it. Finally going to give voice to all the unspoken things that had lived in the spaces between your touches, your late-night conversations, the way he held you when he thought you were asleep.

Unfortunately, fear won.

You saw it happen, saw the hesitation, saw him fail to say the words you desperately wanted to hear. Your heart broke all over again, because this was your answer. It just wasn’t the one you'd wanted.

Your laugh this time was soaked in misery. “Yeah,” you whispered, nodding because you finally understood now. “That’s what I thought.”

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking completely now. “You don’t understand-”

“You’re right,” you interrupted, stepping back. “I don’t.”

He looked like he was falling apart right in front of you. “Don’t do this,” he begged, voice small. It was so unlike his usual confident self. “Don’t walk away from me.”

For a second, you almost stopped, because despite everything, you loved him. And maybe that was the worst part of all.

But love wasn’t enough when you were the only one brave enough to feel it out loud.

So, you shook your head, stepping back again. “I think I need to.”

His eyes filled with devastation, hollowing him out. “Please…”

But this time, you didn’t turn back. You walked away with tears streaming down your face, and your heart lay useless in your chest.

And behind you, under the streetlights, Lee Know stood frozen. He was breathing hard, broken, watching the person he loved leave… all because he had been too afraid to tell them that they were never just casual to him.

a/n: I told you there was no happy ending 🙂‍↕️ but if you’d like one… lmk in the comments. 😉

Any and all interaction with my work is greatly appreciated x

Taglist: @hanniesbubuwife @skrach84

[hyunvom]

blue & grey

synopsis: A deaf artist and a famous idol form an unexpected bond built on silence, touch, and learning each other’s language beyond words.

word count: 12k

pairing: idol hyunjin x deaf artist reader

cw: angst, miscommunication, hurt/comfort, soft romance, eventual smut.

You like museums because they are honest about silence.

People whisper there, but even that feels optional. Sound exists, but it never demands you. No one expects conversation, no one expects responses. You can exist fully inside yourself without apologizing for it.

That’s why you came today on your day off from the atelier.

This exhibition has been advertised everywhere in Seoul, contemporary reinterpretations of classical Korean landscapes. Posters plastered on subway walls, colors blooming against concrete, brushstrokes promising emotion.

Art speaks your language.

You arrive early, before the afternoon crowd gets too overwhelming. The museum smells faintly of polished floors and old paper. Sunlight filters through tall windows, washing everything in gold. Your footsteps echo softly, or at least you imagine they do. You’ve learned to construct sound from memory rather than experience.

As you step inside you immediately feel calm settle over you.

Paintings line the white walls of the museum like open windows into other worlds. Mountains dissolve into mist. Rivers stretch endlessly toward horizons painted with impossible patience. You move slowly, hands clasped behind your back, reading each plaque carefully.

You don’t rush art. You let it happen to you.

A group passes behind you, you feel the vibration of footsteps through the floor before you notice them in your peripheral vision. You shift aside politely, used to navigating spaces by motion rather than sound.

People talk. Mouths move. Laughter appears in shapes you recognize but cannot hear. You don’t mind anymore. You stopped minding many years ago.

Silence isn’t loneliness. It can become a home if you know how to welcome it.

You stop in front of a smaller painting, ink brush mountains rising sharply against a pale sky. The artist captured distance so perfectly you almost feel wind on your face. Your chest tightens the way it always does when something beautiful finds you unexpectedly.

You lean closer..and that’s when you notice him.

You notice him the way you notice art that doesn’t belong to the rest of the room. He stands several paintings away.

Tall.

Black hair falling softly across his forehead, slightly messy like he forgot to tame it before leaving home. He’s wearing a brownish long coat, neutral colors, nothing flashy, yet he looks impossibly out of place among ordinary visitors.

Beautiful is too small a word.

Your brain supplies it anyway.

Beautiful.

A properly beautiful man, and you get lost in your head about how you’re pretty sure, you have never seen anyone this good looking before. Is he from here? Is he a visitor?

He studies a painting with complete focus, head tilted slightly, lips parted as if he’s thinking something profound. His hands rest loosely in his pockets, posture relaxed but elegant.

You stare longer than you should, and you know you are staring but you can’t take your eyes off of his face. You tell yourself to look away.

You don’t. You can’t.

There’s something gentle about him, something quiet, and you catch yourself wonder what he sees in the painting, and then you wonder what his voice sounds like. You rarely think about voices, but his lips move slightly, almost forming words to himself, and suddenly curiosity blooms painfully inside your chest.

You look away quickly, embarrassed.

Focus on the art.

You move to the next piece.

Then the next.

But awareness of him follows you like warmth at your back. Each time you pretend not to look, you somehow find him again across the room, turning a corner, standing beneath another canvas. Maybe he’s moving through the exhibition at the same pace as you. Maybe you’re both drawn to the same pieces. Or maybe you’re just being delusional about your destiny bullshit.

You stop in a room with a huge piece, and the painting dominates the room.

It stretches across nearly an entire wall, a sweeping landscape of storm clouds breaking over a coastline, waves crashing in thick, violent strokes of blue & gray. Light cuts through the storm in one brilliant opening, illuminating a lone figure standing at the edge of the sea.

You feel it immediately.

The ache.

You walk closer and closer, until the rest of the world disappears. You imagine the roar of the ocean, not as sound, but as motion. As pressure. As something vast and overwhelming that exists whether you hear it or not. The lone figure in the painting looks small against the storm, yet unafraid.

You exhale slowly, and you sit on the bench placed before the artwork.

You always sit for paintings like this. Standing feels disrespectful when something demands your full attention. You fold your hands in your lap and let your eyes trace every brushstroke. Minutes pass, or maybe longer. Time behaves differently when you’re absorbed in beauty.

Your thoughts drift.

You think about the waves, what sounds they might make, and your thoughts lead you to roads you don’t want to take right now, like how people describe music as emotional. You’ve never known music. Sometimes people pity you for that, but standing here, feeling emotion swell so strongly it almost hurts, you wonder if music could really feel more alive than this.

You don’t think so.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice him approach. Not until the bench shifts slightly beside you.

Your heart jumps and you glance sideways.

It’s him.

He is so much more unreal up close. His presence feels warm, and you study him from the corner of your eye as he looks at the painting in front of you.

Long fingers resting on his knees. Soft features sharpened by concentration. His eyes move across the canvas slowly, thoughtfully, and you watch yourself thinking that he looks like someone who feels deeply, just like you.

Then he turns slightly toward you, and his lips move.

You blink, not expecting any interaction at all with the beautiful stranger, as if you were invisible in this space and someone interacting with you was impossible.

You look around briefly, wondering if he’s speaking to someone else, but no one stands nearby.

You look back at him.

His mouth moves again. Gentle expression.

You catch only fragments, shapes of syllables, but he’s probably mumbling and being extra quiet given the space you’re in, so you can’t read his lips at all.

Your stomach drops.

Of course, of course he’s talking, and of course he’s talking to you.

Panic flutters in your chest with the familiar anxiety of misunderstandings. Of people thinking you’re ignoring them purposefully. One of those moment where the world just has to mind you that easy communication isn’t built for you.

You hesitate.

Maybe he wasn’t speaking to you after all.

You look back at the painting, pretending nothing happened, but then he leans slightly closer, clearly directing his attention at you this time.

His lips move again, slower. You recognize the expression now. He’s definitely talking to you.

Heat rises to your face, and you hate this part. The part where you must interrupt normalcy. The moment people’s expressions change, surprise, awkwardness, apology. You turn toward him fully and he waits politely, eyes kind.

You look at him in the eyes, his beautiful intense but kind eyes, and you shake your head, pointing at your ear and your cochlear implant.

Then you mouth silently and carefully, hoping he’ll understand.

I’m deaf.

His eyes widen slightly as he realises, and for a brief second you prepare yourself for the usual reaction, exaggerated apologies, embarrassment, people backing away because they don’t know what to do or how to respond back.

He nods slowly. Then he mouths something again, more carefully this time.

You catch nothing. Maybe because you’re so distracted by him, maybe because the beautiful stranger is literally sitting right next to you and is trying to talk to you.

He pauses.

Thinks.

Then, unexpectedly, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his phone.

You watch his every movement, surprised.

His fingers move quickly across the screen, and a moment later he turns his phone toward you.

“Sorry. I said the painting feels lonely but peaceful. I wondered if you thought the same since you’re sitting here too.”

You stare at the words. Then at him, and your chest does that thing again.

Most people would have simply smiled and stopped trying. They wouldn't try to have a conversation with you. But he was, he was trying. He was actively trying to communicate with you.

You take your own phone out, hands suddenly clumsy with awareness of him watching as you type.

“Yes. Like standing in a storm but not wanting to leave.”

You show him.

His eyes brighten instantly, he smiles and nods at you. Something about his reaction makes warmth spread through you.

He types again.

“Exactly.”

You both turn back toward the painting. Side by side. You can see a smile in his face, and you become acutely aware of everything.

The closeness of his shoulder. The subtle rise and fall of his breathing. The way he glances at the painting, then briefly at you, as if checking whether you’re experiencing the same emotion. Your heart beats faster.

Ridiculous.

You don’t even know his name. You don’t know anything about him. He’s just a beautiful stranger.

And then you catch him typing again, and directing his phone at you, again.

“Do you come to museums often?”

You nod, then write.

“Whenever I want to think.”

He smiles big at you and the smile changes his whole face, making it so soft and childlike, like he’s genuinely so unbelievably happy. And you almost forget how to breathe.

He writes.

“Funny you say that, me too.”

You want to ask more. So much more, but you hesitate. Conversations with strangers rarely last long. People move on. They always do. You don’t want to out yourself up for disappointment

Still, neither of you stands up to leave.

Minutes pass. Maybe more. You exist together in this shared silence, watching painted waves crash endlessly against a painted shore.

You glance at him again.. and he’s already looking at you.

Your gaze collides with his but neither of you looks away immediately. Something shifts. Unspoken. Fragile. Dangerous. You both smile at each other and he looks back at the painting, and he looks shy, cheeks red. You’re pretty sure you look like a radish yourself.

His phone lights up again in his hands. He hesitates before turning the screen toward you, but he does anyway.

“I’m Hyunjin by the way”

Hyunjin. You mouth it silently to yourself, testing how it looks. The name fits him somehow. Soft yet so elegant.

You quickly type your own name and turn your phone toward him.

He reads it carefully and smiles, the kind that reaches his eyes and lingers there, warm and bright, like he’s committing your name to memory.

Your stomach flips again at how pretty he looks.

He types again.

“Nice to meet you.”

You nod and type quickly.

“You too.”

It feels insufficient for the strange gravity of the moment, but you don’t know how else to explain what meeting him already feels like.

He looks at the painting again.

Then at you.

Then types:

“Do you want to see the rest together?”

Your heart stutters. You hadn’t expected that. You were just hoping to stay like this besides him for a few more minutes before he’s gone and you never see him again. You stare at the words longer than necessary, and he waits patiently, a look in his eyes as if hoping more than anything you’ll say yes.

You nod, a small movement, but his face lights up immediately.

You both stand at the same time, almost awkwardly synchronized, and a soft laugh escapes him, you see it in the way his shoulders lift, and you wonder what that sounded like.

You begin walking side by side through the gallery.

At first, neither of you types anything. You simply appreciate the art around you. Stopping before paintings and leaning closer to read descriptions. Then you start to occasionally exchanging phones for short comments.

“I like the colors here.”

“It feels nostalgic.”

“I think this one makes me sad. I’m not sure why.”

It’s all so natural and so not forced.

You notice how patient he is when typing, never rushing, and it’s all just making you feel like this is easy, after all, it’s not some huge inconvenience to him. He waits for your responses fully, eyes attentive, focused only on you when you write your words on the screen.

It’s rare. This is rare for you and you know it. People often grow restless. They get tired of having to do this. It has happened too many times. Boyfriends, friendships, coworkers.

The beautiful stranger in front of you doesn't stop. At least not yet.

You start noticing small things about him. The way he tilts his head when thinking. How expressive his eyes are and how carefully he observes everything.

You’re standing before a sculpture when Hyunjin suddenly pauses as if he forgot something, or her left something behind accidentally. He glances around the room, quick subtle movements, and then he reaches into his bag. You watch curiously as he pulls out a black cap. He slides it onto his head, lowering the brim slightly, and then a mask appears too, covering the lower half of his face.

Strange, you think. All of a sudden, why?

He wasn’t wearing any of that earlier when you saw him walk around the museum alone. Your brows knit together slightly and you look around instinctively.

Nothing seems different.

Only his eyes remain fully visible now. And because you stand beside him thankfully you can still see him clearly.

He notices you looking.

For a brief moment, embarrassment flashes across his eyes as he sees the confused look at your face.

He types quickly.

“Sorry. It's just something I have to do.”

You read it twice.

Why?

You glance at him again, puzzled. Again, you think about how free he looked before talking to you, what changed now?

You type back before thinking clearly.

“Not because of me I hope.” and you smile at him, as if joking. So awkward, why would you say that to him, so passive aggressive and for what? You just met the guy.. relax.

He immediately looks apologetic and there’s panic in his eyes. You’re a fucking idiot that’s for sure.

“Of course not!”

Relief softens the tightness in your chest. You hadn’t realized how much you were holding your breath. You nod lightly to show you understand, even if you don’t really. People have private reasons for things. Everyone carries pieces of themselves they don’t explain to strangers. You have no right to ask for explanations on anything.

He studies your face for a moment longer, as if making sure you truly believe him. Then his shoulders relax. Whatever tension had briefly appeared in him fades, replaced again by that quiet warmth you’ve begun associating with his presence.

You continue walking.

He stays slightly closer to you than before, positioning himself so that anyone passing would see mostly the side of his face turned away. When other visitors walk by, his posture shifts subtly, head lowered, brim of his cap shadowing his eyes.

It feels more like a habit of his. Like muscle memory.

You don’t ask why. You’re not going to ask him anything, he has his reasons. You just hope he’s not a criminal or something and he’s scared of being found.

You laugh in your head at the thought of this beautiful, kind man being a criminal.

You slow near the next painting and gesture toward it, inviting his attention back to something else. You both stop in front of a watercolor landscape, pale greens and soft blues melting into each other. He leans closer to read the description while you type a thought onto your phone.

“This one feels quiet.”

He reads it, then nods immediately.

He types

“Comfortable quiet.”

You smile.

Yes.

Exactly that.

The conversation resumes naturally after that. Whatever moment of tension existed dissolves into shared observation again, phones passing back and forth between you like a language only the two of you understand.

And you notice how attentive he is.

When you pause longer at a painting he waits for you. When you step closer to examine brushstrokes, he follows your lead. At one sculpture you circle slowly around it, studying how light changes the shadows, and when you turn he’s watching you instead of the art.

You pretend not to notice but your heart still reacts anyway. You show him another message.

“Do you like art a lot?”

He thinks before answering.

His thumbs hover over the screen longer this time.

“Yes. A lot. I try to make as much time for art as I can.”

You walk through the remaining galleries together, falling into an easy rhythm. Sometimes you talk through text. Sometimes you don’t talk at all. And somehow the silence between you never feels empty.

It feels shared.

At one point your hands brush accidentally while reaching toward the same information plaque. Both of you pull back at the same time. He laughs silently again, shoulders lifting, eyes crinkling above the mask.

You feel warmth rush to your face.

You type quickly, hiding your embarrassment behind humor.

“We have synchronized museum instincts.”

He grins and nods enthusiastically.

You don’t notice how often he looks at you now.

Not just glances.

Lingering looks.

As if he’s trying to memorize something.

Eventually the exhibition begins to thin out and visitors move toward the exit. Afternoon light grows stronger through the windows, signaling the end of the experience.

You reach the final gallery together and neither of you says anything. Neither of you rushes forward. It feels strangely similar to standing at the end of a good book, not wanting to turn the last page because finishing means losing it forever, that it’s over.

You slow your steps and he matches them automatically.

Outside the gallery doors the museum lobby stretches wide and bright. Reality waits there. You stop walking. He stops too. For a moment you both just stand facing each other. The silence changes. Not comfortable now, but fragile. Temporary.

You suddenly become aware that this was never guaranteed to last longer than today, longer than a few hours. That soon he will become a stranger again. You grip your phone slightly tighter.

He shifts his weight, eyes flicking down before returning to yours.

He’s nervous, you can feel it.

You’ve seen nervousness before, in yourself, in others trying to bridge uncertain moments. He types something. Stops and deletes it, then types again

Your heart begins beating faster.

Finally, he turns the screen toward you.

“Can I have your number Y/N? I understand if not, of course.”

You look at him. At the hidden half of his face. At the eyes that have stayed soft with you all afternoon, at the stranger who chose to stay instead of walking away when he realised communication was going to be more complicated than he's used to.

You type your number and you’re smiling down at his phone, and your fingers feel strangely unsteady as you hand the phone back to him.

He exhales, a subtle release of tension you almost miss. He saves it immediately, then types.

“I’m glad I met you today.”

Your throat tightens.

You reply.

“Me too.”

It feels inadequate compared to what you actually mean. You both linger a moment longer near the exit. Neither moving first.

Finally, you bow slightly, and he mirrors you instantly. You turn toward the doors, the remaining sunlight spilling across the floor ahead of you and each step away feels heavier than it should.

You reach the exit and something pulls at you. You glance back.. and he’s still standing there watching you. Not checking his phone. Not leaving.

When your eyes meet again he lifts his hand in a small wave and you immediately smile at him and wave back in a small movement, and then you step outside into the afternoon air, unaware that somewhere behind you Hyunjin remains still for several seconds longer.

As if leaving this moment is harder than he expected.

_

You didn’t expect him to text.

That’s the rule you’ve learned about people who show interest in you. People are not willing to do all that, to put this much effort. These beautiful moments don’t follow you home.

Still, when you step into your apartment you place your phone down on the table more carefully than usual. As if being gentle to your phone will make him text. You change clothes. Wash your hands. Make tea. The routine unfolds exactly as it always does, predictable.

Your apartment is quiet, as it always is.

You sit by the window, watching the city move below. Cars glide past. People talk animatedly on sidewalks, conversations you can see but never enter. And then.. with the corner of your eye you see your phone light up.

Your heart jumps before logic catches up and you go and pick it up way too quickly.

A message.

Unknown number.

You already know.

“Hey, it’s Hyunjin, from the museum. Did you get home safely?”

Warmth spreads through your chest so suddenly it genuinely embarrasses you. You type back immediately, then delete it. You’re being too fast. Too eager. You don’t want to make it seem like he’s all you could think about, even though that’s exactly what’s happening.

You wait for at least five minutes, just hoping he didn’t see you typing.

You: Hi. Yes. Did you?

The typing bubble appears almost instantly.

He was waiting too.

Hyunjin: Yes :) I keep thinking about the painting.

You smile instantly. You walk to the couch and sit down, pulling your legs beneath you.

You: The one with the storm?

Hyunjin: Yes. The one we met in front of.

Your breath catches. You stare at the message longer than necessary, unsure how to respond without revealing how much it affects you.

You: I can’t stop thinking about that piece too.

Three dots appear again.

Disappear.

Return.

You imagine him somewhere across the city, looking at his phone the same way you are now.

Hyunjin: I’m glad I talked to you today.

You blush like a schoolgirl. What even is this, why are you so effected by this man you barely know. Yes, he’s very attractive and he seems kind, but those things never effect you if you’re not knee deep in someone’s personality.

You: Me too, thank you for today.

The conversation ends there, but you can’t seem to be able to stop thinking about him for the rest of the night, before finally going to sleep, still thinking about him, replaying everything in your head.

_

As the days go by the beautiful stranger texts you nearly every day, almost always at the same hours, late evening, when the city softens and people begin disappearing into their private lives. And you blush and kick your feet like a teenager who’s interacting with a boy for the first time in her life every time you get a text from him.

At first, the questions are small.

Hyunjin: What do you usually do after work?

You: Go home. Read. Sometimes cook badly.

Hyunjin: Haha, I doubt it’s bad.

You: Do you paint?

Hyunjin: Yeah, I'm trying to find time for that.

You: What do you do for work?

Three dots appear.

Disappear.

Return.

Hyunjin: I’m a dancer.

You smile unconsciously. It fits him. The way he stood in front of the sculpture. The way his hands moved. The quiet awareness of his body in space.

You: That makes sense.

Hyunjin: Really? How come?

You hesitate, unsure how to explain something intuitive.

You: You notice things. Dancers notice things.

The typing bubble appears instantly.

Stops.

Appears again.

Hyunjin: I think you notice more than me.

The conversations grow slowly as days go by. He asks what silence feels like to you. No one has ever asked that before. You tell him silence isn’t always empty. It can be full. Full of movement, expressions, light shifting through rooms, people breathing.

He sends a message after several minutes.

Hyunjin: That sounds beautiful. I think sign language is very beautiful, maybe you can teach me something one day?

Your chest aches. Teach him sign? One day? This mean he's planning to see you again?

You: Oh, of course, if you'd like that :)

Hyunjin: I'd love it.

Some nights he tells you about the 'rehearsals' he has, as he calls them. You haven’t t quite understood what he does for work. Is he a dance teacher? Is he a backup dancer? He talks about long hours, sore feet and mirrors everywhere, and you imagine him practicing alone in a quiet studio.

You never push for details. You’ve learned people reveal only what they want to.

One evening after weeks of messages that feel strangely essential to your days, you type without overthinking.

You: I wish I could see you dance one day.

The message sends.

Immediately, the typing bubble appears.

Stops.

Appears again.

You watch it, heart beating faster than it should.

…typing…

…typing…

Then it disappears. Again. A minute passes. Two. Your stomach tightens.

Hyunjin: Maybe someday.

Another pause.

Hyunjin: Goodnight :)

You blink at the screen. Something about it feels unfinished. Like a door almost opened and then quietly shut again. What was he writing for minutes straight that he deleted?

You type goodnight back.

The next day passes without a text from him, and you don’t think much of it. People get busy. He clearly sounds like someone who has lots of work and lots of stuff to do. You go to work, come home, make tea and sit by the window as always.

Your phone stays dark.

Two days.

Five days.

A week.

No message.

You stop checking constantly. You place your phone face down now, as if removing the possibility will make disappointment smaller. It shouldn’t hurt. Yes, you both opened up a little bit about your lives, but still, you barely know him. But something settles quietly in your chest, familiar and heavy.

Because this is how it always happens.

People are kind at first. Curious. Interested. They like the novelty of learning how you communicate, the way you watch faces carefully, the patience required to speak with hands or typed words. But eventually comes the moment when effort becomes visible. When conversations require adjustment. When spontaneity disappears.

And then they fade.

Not cruelly or dramatically, but they do, and it always hurts the same. Maybe he wanted to meet with you, but the thought of having to text all the time made him change his mind.

You learned not to blame people for this.

And with him? You just tell yourself this was never different. You tell yourself that you knew better and to stop rereading the messages you exchanged the past weeks, and to stop wondering what he almost said that night.

Two weeks pass.

The rhythm of your life closes again around you, steady and predictable. Evening tea and city lights through your window. You feel foolish for having expected anything else. Some people are just passing moments. Beautiful ones, yes, but temporary. And you're still glad you got to know him even for just a bit. After all, he seemed like a nice, kind man.

_

It's Friday night and you’re halfway through washing dishes. You're planning on tidying up a bit, then putting on a movie and relaxing like that in front of the tv after a shitty day at the atelier.

You dropped your canvas, made a mess in the floor, ruined hours upon hours of hard work and had everyone trying to help you like you were some baby. You’re deaf, you’re not a toddler.

Everything today was just shit, and you deserved to relax and forget this day all together.

Suddenly your phone lights up on the counter. You don’t rush, you’ve trained yourself not to, and you're pretty much sure it's just your mom or your sister.

You dry your hands slowly.

His name.

Your heart forgets all the lessons you tried to teach it.

Hyunjin: Would you be up to meet again?

_

You start getting ready far too early.

The clock says you still have three hours before he arrives, yet you stand in front of your wardrobe like the decision carries unreasonable consequences. Shirts are lifted, held against your body, folded back again. Nothing feels right. Everything feels like trying too hard. You sit on the edge of your bed for a moment trying to catch your breath and looking at all the mess you’ve made in front of you.

You’re being so ridiculous. This is just tea. Just meeting a friend. Right? That’s what he is. A friend.

But your thoughts don’t cooperate. What if he realizes how exhausting it is to talk with you? The pauses while you type. The way conversations sometimes need to slow down or the constant awareness required to communicate with you. People always say it doesn’t matter at first. And then later it does.

You smooth your hands over the clothes you finally picked. A long skirt and a beautifully detailed top.

You tell yourself not to hope too much. To treat this as meeting a friend and nothing else. This is not a date, not a romantic one at least.

The message he sent yesterday replays in your mind.

Would you be up to meet again?

And then the location he chose.

A tea house.

You had mentioned weeks ago casually that tea makes you feel calm and that you collect different kinds, that choosing tea feels like choosing a mood.

He remembered.

The realization warmed you more than the invitation itself. He listens. He listens and he notices and he remembers. You'd be happy even having him in your life as just a friend, so you just hope tonight goes well.

The tea house isn’t in town. It sat far outside the city, near the hills, almost hidden, and you wondered why he would choose somewhere so far when there were dozens of tea places closer. The thought lingered, unanswered. And you didn’t have time to care.

Your phone lights up.

Hyunjin: I’m outside.

Your heart leaps. You grab your bag, check your reflection one last time and step outside.

The car waiting at the curb makes you slow down.

Sleek. Black. You can tell this is a nice, expensive car. Dancers don’t usually drive cars like that. Or do they? Before you can think longer, the driver’s door opens. Hyunjin steps out, and for a moment your brain stops working properly.

He looks unfairly beautiful.

Soft black hair falling into his eyes, simple clothes somehow looking elegant on him, long coat moving slightly with the breeze. There’s nothing flashy about him, yet everything about him draws attention effortlessly. He has a cup on again, a cup that hides most of his face.

He smiles when he sees you and it makes your stomach flip.

Oh no.

He looks even better than you remembered. How are you supposed to try become friends with someone you are so attracted to? A man so beautiful your heart is doing backflips inside your chest. This is never going to work. But you will try, you will do anything to keep him in your life, you're already sure of it.

He walks toward you, slightly nervous energy in his movements. Then he pauses, studying you carefully. He lifts his phone, types quickly, and shows you.

Hyunjin: How do you sign “beautiful” ?

You blink, surprised. You demonstrate slowly, showing him the motion, and his eyes follow your hands with intense focus, repeating the movement carefully, almost reverently.

He signs it back to you.

Beautiful. And points at you right after.

Heat rushes to your face instantly and you're pretty sure your cheeks are red, and he definitely noticed, because the corner of his eyes crinkles as a small smirk appears. You look away, suddenly very interested in the pavement.

The drive is quiet but comfortable.

He occasionally glances at you, like he’s reassuring himself you’re really there. The city slowly fades behind you, buildings giving way to open views and softer landscapes.

You watch the scenery change, curiosity returning. Why here? Why somewhere so far away? But you will not ask. Somehow, the distance feels intentional. Private. Safe. And you find that nice, you trust him. Maybe he just wants to be far away from people because it will be overwhelming having to text and hear all the noise all at once.

The tea house appears nestled between trees, large windows facing an expansive view of hills stretching toward the sea. When you step inside you can see that there are barely any people, and the air smells faintly of jasmine and citrus. They seat you by the window and the view was breathtaking.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You simply sit there, sharing the calm. Then he types something and turns the phone toward you.

Hyunjin: I’m sorry I disappeared.

You blink, caught off guard by the directness.

Hyunjin: Work became overwhelming. I didn’t want to text carelessly.

You nod slowly and you type back.

You: It’s okay.I thought maybe you got tired of talking to me.

You immediately wish the floor would open up and you’d disappear inside it. Why would you just blurt that out so easily? What is wrong with you?

His reaction is immediate. His eyes widen, genuine shock crossing his face. He shakes his head quickly.

Hyunjin: Of course not.

He hesitates before continuing.

Hyunjin: Why would you think that?

You stare at your hands before answering. You already fucked up by being completely honest, you might as well explain.

You: People usually do. They don’t always have patience. Talking with me takes effort.

You expect sympathy or awkward reassurance. Instead, his expression just softens, and he types slower this time.

Hyunjin: Talking to you is easy.

Your chest tightens, and you're still not used to the feeling even though he's making you feel like this way too often.

You hadn’t noticed how tightly you were holding yourself together until the tea arrived. Steam curls upward between you, carrying the faint scent of chamomile and something floral you don’t recognize. The porcelain cups are warm against your fingers.

Hyunjin watches you as you lift the cup.

Hyunjin: Can I ask something personal?

You nod immediately. You’re surprised by how easily trust comes with him.

Hyunjin: Were you always deaf?

You smile at his genuine curiosity and type back.

You: Yes. I was born this way.

You pause, then add more.

You: My parents found out when I was a baby. I have never experienced sound, so I don’t feel like I lost anything.

Hyunjin: Does the cochlear implant help you catch anything?

You reach up instinctively, fingers brushing the small processor resting behind your ear.

You: Sometimes, yes. In quiet places, I can pick up bits of sound, but it doesn’t come through clearly. It’s more like my brain turning electrical signals into rough shapes of meaning. I guess. Speech is the hardest. Some sounds are clearer than others, but none of it feels natural. And I get tired quickly, listening takes effort

He nods as he reads.

Hyunjin: Can you hear your own voice?

You: Not really. I feel it more than hear it.

You tap lightly against your throat.

You: Like vibration inside my chest.

His expression changes, something tender flickering there, and you realize he’s imagining it. Trying to understand your world from the inside.

He types again, slower this time.

Hyunjin: Thank you for explaining it to me.

You nod and smile at him.

Hyunjin: And do your parents know sign language?

You: Kind of, they're still learning, but we can communicate comfortably for the most part.

He smiles.

Hyunjin: I want to learn too.

You look up at him, smiling big without meaning to.

You: I'll teach you then.

And he nods excitingly, as he types again.

Hyunjin: Tell me about your paintings, about your work!

You describe them shyly at first, talking about your favourite techniques and explain how painting feels like translating emotions you can’t always express otherwise. He reads your messages intensely, elbows resting on the table, completely focused. You talk more than you meant to and you open up to him quickly.

Eventually, without thinking, the words slip out.

You: You could come to my house and see them sometime… if you want.

The moment you turn the phone towards him for him to read you immediately regret it and try to take the phone back, but he stops you and holds your hand, turning the phone back to himself. Soft hands, his long fingers making you feel dizzy.

Focus, you're trying to be his friend.

You read his lips: “Let me see.”

You look down quickly, wishing you could pull the invitation back.

He goes still, and you can see uncertainty flicker across his face as he reads it. You rush to type again.

You: Only if you want. No pressure!!!!!!!!

He interrupts gently, typing as a small laugh leaves his throat and you catch the movement.

Hyunjin: I’d like that.

You look at him and he nods once, as if confirming the decision to himself as much as to you. Warmth spreads through you, mixed with nervous excitement.

You: Enough about me though, tell me about yourself too.

He laughs and types.

Hyunjin: I’m not very interesting.

You snort softly before you can stop yourself, and you wonder if the sound you made just now sounded weird. You hope not, and you see him smile, so you don’t think about it too much.

You: That’s not true.

He smiles at your quick response, shoulders relaxing slightly, and he tries again.

Hyunjin: I dance. That’s most of my life.

You nod, already knowing that part, but you wait for him to continue.

Hyunjin: I started young. Training took a lot of time. Long days. Late nights. I still practice almost every day.

You: What kind of dance?

He tilts his head, thinking how to answer.

Hyunjin: Different styles. Contemporary, hip hop, performance dance.

You: Do you like it?

His answer comes immediately this time.

Hyunjin: Yes. When I dance, I don’t think about anything else.

You smile. You understand that feeling. Painting does the same for you.

You: That’s how painting feels for me.

He nods eagerly, clearly happy at the connection.

Hyunjin: Then you understand.

Golden light stretches across the road as you walk back to the car together, and the drive feels different now. You feel closer to him after the talk you had. You feel like you know more about him, but still, you know there's so much more. You can feel that he’s holding back, you just can't put your finger on what it is.

When the car stops outside your apartment your heartbeat picks up again. He picks up his phone after stopping the car right in front of your door and types.

Hyunjin: I have time to see your painting now, if you’re okay with that.

You look at him, not ready for this to happen so fast, but you want him to come and see so bad that you just can’t find it in you to care if your apartment is messy. You nod eagerly.

_

He’s here. About to see your space. Your world. You glance at him, unsure if he’s nervous too, and he meets your eyes and smiles softly.

He follows you quietly into your apartment and the moment the door closes behind him something shifts in the air. You don’t turn on the big overhead light. Instead you move through the small space flipping on the many warm lamps you’ve collected over the years, soft golden pools of light that make the cozy room feel even smaller, more intimate.

The apartment is tiny, walls lined with bookshelves and half finished canvases. The air smells faintly of oil paint, chamomile tea and a lavender candle that even though wasn't lit you could still smell it.

Having him here feels… overwhelming, in a good, perfect way.

Hyunjin looks impossibly beautiful under the warm lamplight. The harsh edges of the outside world are gone. His black hair falls softly across his forehead as he takes his cap off, catching threads of gold. His long coat is draped over the back of your old armchair, and in just a simple black sweater, he seems softer, more real. Every time he moves the light shifts across his face, highlighting the gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, the depth in his eyes. He looks like one of your paintings come to life, something delicate and aching all at once.

You lead him to the corner where you paint. The space is cramped but warm, brushes resting in jars, colors smeared on an old wooden palette. Several canvases are propped against the wall, your private little windows into everything you feel.

Hyunjin crouches down slowly so he can see better, eyes moving across each piece with genuine focus. He studies the stormy seascape, soft misty mountains, and the smaller abstract works where colors bleed into emotions you’ve never named out loud.

His expression changes as he looks. First curiosity, then quiet surprise, and finally something close to awe. He leans closer to one particular canvas, a figure standing on a cliff as golden light breaks through heavy clouds, and his lips part slightly.

He pulls out his phone, but then seems to change his mind. Instead, he looks up at you, eyes bright, and slowly signs the word you taught him earlier.

Beautiful.

The movement is careful, a little clumsy but full of effort. His long fingers shape the sign with reverence.

You look up at him, heart pounding so loudly you can feel it in your throat. Without thinking, you sign back “Thank you”, and you mouth the word silently at the same time.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you under the warm lamplight.

Hyunjin’s gaze softens. He rises slowly from his crouch until he’s standing close, closer than he’s ever been. The air between you feels charged, fragile, full of all the unspoken things that have been growing since you met. His eyes drop to your lips for half a second, then return to yours, asking without words.

And then he just leans in.

The kiss is impossibly soft.

Tentative at first, like he’s afraid of breaking the quiet you both cherish. His lips are warm and gentle against yours, tasting faintly of the tea you shared earlier. There’s no rush, only tenderness. One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek with feather light care, thumb brushing your skin.

Your eyes flutter closed. After a heartbeat of surprise, you lean in and kiss him back, your hands rising to rest lightly against his chest. You can feel the steady, slightly faster beat of his heart under your palm. The kiss deepens just a little, still soft, still slow.

When you finally pull apart you’re both breathing a little heavier. His forehead rests gently against yours for a moment, eyes closed, as if he’s savoring the closeness, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, then reaches for his phone with slightly unsteady fingers.

Hyunjin: I wanted to do this since the moment I saw you in front of that painting.

You smile, cheeks flushed, and you grab his phone to type back

You: I wanted you to do this since that moment too, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.

His eyes are warm and shiny as he reads.

Hyunjin: I don’t want to scare you with how much I already like you. But being here, in your space, seeing your art… it feels like I’m seeing the real you. And I like her so much.

Your chest tightens with a sweet ache.

You: I’m not scared of you.

The hour now has grown late, and Hyunjin glances at the time on his phone, reluctance clear in his expression.

Hyunjin: I have early practice tomorrow… I should go. Thank you for letting me into your world tonight.

You smile at him as he touched your face one last time, and you walk to the door together. He puts his coat back on and pulls the mask and cap from his pocket, preparing once again for the outside world. Before he steps out, he turns to you one more time.

He leans down and presses a final, tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a few heartbeats, and you melt completely. Then he pulls back, eyes soft.

You sign “Goodnight” slowly as you mouth it, and he repeats the sign back to you with a smile.

You stand there for a long moment, fingers touching your lips where he kissed you, the warmth of his presence still lingering in your small apartment.

_

The next afternoon you stepped out to buy groceries, still carrying the warm glow from last night’s kiss. Your steps felt lighter. The world seemed a little softer, and you wanted more than anything to make soup.

You loved soup, and you loved making it. It felt so cozy to make soup. Mushroom soup, carrot soup, chicken soup, onion soup. You’ve tried everything, all of it equally delicious.

You got your groceries and you decided to go home from a different route, to walk around a little longer since the day was so nice. You turned the corner onto the main street, and right there as you looked up, you froze.

There, towering over the busy intersection was a massive billboard. Bright, impossible to miss. Hyunjin’s face, the face of the boy who was in your apartment last night filled most of it, sharp eyes, styled hair, wearing a striking outfit, promoting a luxury brand.

Your bags slipped from your fingers.

The world tilted. You stared, frozen on the sidewalk as people walked past you. Your chest tightened painfully. That was him. Your Hyunjin, splashed across a building like he belonged to everyone.

What the fuck? Is this actually him? Or is this a sick joke? Does he have a fucking twin or something? No. There’s no way that’s him.

_

The groceries hit the floor the moment the door of your apartment closed, milk carton cracking open, vegetables rolling across the tiles.

You didn’t care.

Hands shaking, you opened your laptop and typed “Hyunjin” into the search bar. You didn’t even know his last name, there’s no way anything will come up with just his name.

The page loaded.

Thousands of results.

Photos. Videos. News articles. “Hwang Hyunjin” — Stray Kids. Born March 20, 2000. Main dancer, rapper, visual. Millions of followers. Fancams. Magazine covers.

His face was everywhere.

You clicked frantically. More images flooded the screen, him on stage, glowing with confidence, blonde hair in older clips, intense expressions, surrounded by seven other men. He looked so different yet the same. Powerful. Distant. Like a completely different person from the man who had kissed you so tenderly the other night.

And then the betrayal hit and you felt tears running down your face.

He had lied to you. Not directly, but by omission. While you poured out your world to him he had hidden this enormous part of himself. The cap, the mask, the faraway tea house, the sudden disappearances… it all made brutal sense now.

Is he really that ashamed of me?

The thought tore through you. That’s why he hid his face whenever you were together. To protect himself. So no one would see the famous idol standing next to the deaf girl.

Tears burned hot down your cheeks.

You curled up on the floor beside the spilled groceries, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. The apartment felt too small, too quiet, too full of him. You cried until your eyes ached and your chest felt hollow.

How could he do this?

_

The next morning your phone lit up.

Hyunjin: Hey. I keep thinking about your paintings… and you. How are you today?

You read it. Your thumb hovering over the keyboard, but you can’t bring yourself to answer. The hurt is too raw, too fresh.

Twenty minutes later, another message.

Hyunjin: Did you sleep well? I know I left late the other day, I hope I didn’t mess up your sleep schedule. if you’re busy, it’s okay. Just let me know you’re alright?

Read. No reply.

An hour passes.

Hyunjin: Is everything okay? I’m getting a little worried. Did I do something wrong?

You still couldn’t answer and the tears came again. Why was he doing this? What did he want from you? Why is he texting you acting like he cares if he’s so embarrassed to be around you to the point he has to hide under masks?

Then, late in the afternoon another message.

Hyunjin: Please talk to me. Even if it’s just one word. I can’t stop thinking that I messed up the moment I left your apartment. You’re important to me. I don’t want to lose this.

Something inside you snapped. You typed with trembling fingers, vision blurred

You: Are you embarrassed of me, Hwang Hyunjin? Is that why you were hiding your face every time we were together? What do you want from me exactly?

The message sent.

You saw the “Read” notification almost instantly.

He didn’t reply.

_

You feel slightly calmer now after getting that out of your chest, calm enough to look him up again. With a clearer head now, not filled with shock. You searched his name once more and click on a music video titled “God’s Menu.”

The video starts, and you can’t hear a single note. Hyunjin appears on screen, younger, with striking blonde hair, moving with fierce, sharp precision. His expressions are powerful, almost predatory, completely different from the gentle person who had crouched in front of your paintings to look. There were seven other men with him, all radiating raw energy and charisma. The choreography was intense, synchronized, explosive.

He had opened up to you about dancing, about how it made him forget everything. But he never told you this was his life. Why? Why were you not allowed to know about this?

Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. The disappointment felt heavier than the anger now. You had trusted him, but he hadn’t trusted you with this.

It was past 9 p.m when your phone buzzed again.

Him.

Hyunjin: I’m outside your apartment. Please… can I come up and explain? Just five minutes. I’ll leave right after if you want me to.

Your heart clenched. Part of you wanted to ignore him. The bigger part, the one that still remembered his soft lips kissing you, made you walk to the door. You were angry, but you were mostly curious. Curious to know what the fuck he wants from you and why he hid this.

Hyunjin stood there in the dim hallway light, mask pulled down, eyes wide with worry and something else.. fear?.

He looked exhausted. He stepped inside carefully when you moved aside, and the moment the door closed he started typing frantically, then stopped and tried to speak slowly so you could read his lips.

“I’m not embarrassed of you,” he said clearly, voice careful. “Never. Please believe that.”

You stared at him, arms wrapped around yourself.

He continued, typing and showing you the screen.

Hyunjin: My company has very strict rules. Idols aren’t allowed to date publicly. If fans see me with someone, especially if pictures get taken, it can turn into a huge scandal. It could hurt my members, my career… and the person I’m with. I was trying to protect you. Your life and identity. I don’t want cameras or hate coming after you because of me. I was going to tell you. I swear. I just… I wanted you to like me for me, the guy who sat next to you in the museum.

His eyes were glassy and he looked genuinely devastated. Breaking your heart seeing him like this even though you were still upset with him.

“I’m so sorry,” he mouthed. “I never meant to hurt you like this.”

You felt your own tears return. The anger cracked, leaving only hurt and sudden guilt.

You didn’t know any of this. You weren’t familiar with idol culture, hell, you couldn’t even listen to music.

You typed with shaky hands.

You: Okay, I get that, I’m sorry for reacting like this. I saw you on a billboard and then I googled you. So many people know you. Why do i not deserve to? I just instinctively thought you’re embarrassed of me because of my disability.

Hyunjin shook his head fiercely and pulled you into his arms without hesitation. He held you tight, one hand gently cradling the back of your head. You clung to him, face buried in his chest, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He rubbed slow circles on your back, patient and warm.

After a long while, he pulled back just enough to type.

Hyunjin: I really like you Y/N, and I don’t give a fuck that you’re deaf. It’s just another beautiful part of you, nothing more, nothing less.

You read the text and looked up in his eyes, more tears forming in your eyes, in his too. And you hugged again, tightly, as he kissed the top of your head.

After a while like this..

You: I saw the music videos. You look so cool, and you dance so unbelievably great. I wish I could hear your music

The sadness in your own expression was impossible to hide. Hyunjin’s face softened and he cupped your cheeks gently, thumbs brushing away your tears. He leaned in and kissed you, soft, deep, full of apology and longing. You kissed him back desperately, clinging tighter, your hands fisting in his shirt as if he might disappear.

The kiss grew heavier. Your body pressed closer to his, seeking comfort, connection, anything to fill the ache. Your hands slid under his coat, under his sweater, touching his waist and now actively pulling him toward the bedroom as you kiss.

Hyunjin understood immediately and he stopped you gently as he smiled, breaking the kiss, forehead resting against yours.

He shook his head no, breathing uneven, cheeks flushed.

“Not like this,” he mouthed slowly, making sure you could read his lips. “You’re upset. I don’t want you to.. regret it later.”

And his words are kind but they still hit you like cold water. Your hands loosen from his sweater immediately, heat rushing to your face. Embarrassment floods through you so quickly it almost hurts. You pull back a little too fast, avoiding his eyes.

Of course.

Of course you misread everything and embarrassed yourself again.

You stare at the floor, fingers twisting together. You type quickly on your phone, movements slightly clumsy.

You: I’m so sorry. That was stupid. I didn’t mean to-

Before you can finish, he gently catches your wrist. His expression changes instantly, concern replacing surprise.

He shakes his head, almost panicked.

“No,” he mouths quickly. “No, no.”

He takes your phone, typing himself.

Hyunjin: Hey. It’s okay. Really. You didn’t do anything wrong. We can do that some other time, when you’re feeling better. I want it too.

He looks at you and smiles, warm, reassuring, the kind of smile meant to pull you out of your own thoughts. He’s still standing so close and it doesn’t help that you’ve touched his bare waist. You’re still embarrassed, and you don’t know what to do with your hands for the first time maybe ever.

His hand lifts slowly, hesitant, giving you time to pull away if you want.

You don’t.

His fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then he leans in again. Gentle, soft kiss, slow. Not desperate or overwhelming, reassurance pressed quietly against your lips.

When he pulls back his forehead rests against yours again for a second, both of you smiling a little shyly now. The tension melts and you breathe out a small laugh, still embarrassed but lighter. And he smiles at the sound you made.

He gestures towards the couch and you nod.

You sit side by side, knees touching, your shoulders brushing occasionally as you both pull out your phones to talk. The room feels calmer now. Safe again.

You glance at him, then type.

You: So… idol.

He groans immediately, covering his face with one hand, and you grin.

You: You hid that pretty well.

Hyunjin: I wasn’t trying to lie. I just… wanted you to meet me first.

You tilt your head, teasing.

You: So you’re secretly mega famous and thought I wouldn’t notice?

He laughs, shoulders shaking.

Hyunjin: You didn’t notice.

You nudge his arm.

You: I thought you were just suspiciously pretty.

He pretends to look offended, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. You both laugh, the last bit of awkwardness dissolving between you, but your next message is softer.

You: I was really hurt yesterday. It really shocked me and my mind went to the worse case scenario.

His smile faded, replaced by something serious.

Hyunjin: I know. I’m really sorry. I should’ve thought of the possibility of hurting you like this.

He looks at you while you read it, eyes vulnerable in a way that doesn’t match the polished image he probably shows the world.

Hyunjin: I was scared you’d treat me differently or feel like my life was too much.

Your chest tightens. You don’t type this time. You just lean in and kiss him. A quiet answer. Forgiveness. When you pull back he looks stunned and then relieved, smiling wider than you’ve seen all night.

You stand up suddenly and he blinks in confusion. You gesture toward the kitchen.

“Tea” you mouth, and sign it at the same time.

His face lights up immediately.

He watches you move around the kitchen, comfortable in your own space, sleeves pushed up as you prepare tea. Something about the normalcy of it seems to calm him more than anything else tonight. When you return handing him a warm cup his fingers brush yours deliberately.

He mouths thank you, and he tries to sign it from memory. His movement is a little clumsy, but you help him get it right as you both smile.

You grab the remote and put on some anime show you’ve left unfinished, looking at him to make sure he’s also cool with your choice, and his eyes widen in excitement as he nods immediately.

As the show starts playing quietly the screen colors flickering across the room. He keeps glancing at you more than the show at first, like he’s still grounding himself in the fact that you’re okay, that you’re still here with him.

Eventually you settle closer. Your head rests against his shoulder and his arm hesitates only a second before wrapping around you carefully, pulling you into his side.

He’s warm. steady, safe.

You both watch episode after episode, occasionally passing the phone back and forth to comment or joke. At some point you stop typing altogether. You’re just… comfortable. Your breathing slows and your body grows heavier against him, and a few minutes later he looks down and realises you’ve fallen asleep on him, your cheek pressed against his chest as one of your hands loosely hold his shirt.

His expression softens instantly and he stays still for a long time, unwilling to disturb you, watching your peaceful face like it’s something fragile.

After an hour he carefully shifts, sliding one arm under your knees and the other behind your back as he lifts you. You stir slightly but don’t wake, instinctively leaning closer into him.

He smiles at that. Finding it adorable.

Carrying you to the bedroom feels strangely intimate, more intimate than any of the kisses you’ve shared. He lays you gently on the bed, pulling the blanket over you and tucking it around your shoulders. He just stands there for a moment, watching you, memorizing your face as his fingers brush lightly against your hair.

He mouths quietly, though you can’t hear it,

“Goodnight baby”

And he hesitates… but then leans down and presses one last soft kiss to your forehead before he leaves. And the apartment returns to silence but holds all of the warmth he left behind.

_

Morning arrives slowly.

Sunlight slips through your curtains in golden lines, warming the blankets tangled around you. For a moment you don’t move, you just lie there, half awake, wrapped in the lingering feeling of last night.

Then memory returns all at once.

Hyunjin, the apologies, what almost happened but he’s just so sweet and considerate, the couch, the tea, his arms around you, falling asleep against him.

Your eyes snap open and you sit up quickly, looking around your room. Deep inside you hoping he’s here. A small flicker of disappointment rises… until your phone lights up beside you.

Hyunjin: Good morning! You fell asleep during episode four.

Your heart jumps, and you open the messages immediately. A smile spread across your face as another message appears.

Hyunjin: I carried you to bed. I hope that was okay. I had work pretty early today so I had to go.

You press your lips together, warmth blooming in your chest at the thought.

Hyunjin: Also… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry again for upsetting you. I never want to make you feel unsure of my intentions again.

You reread that one twice. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, but before you can answer, another message arrives.

Hyunjin: I have an idea, and a feeling you’re going to like it. Can I pick you up later?

You don’t even realize you’re smiling until your cheeks start hurting.

You: You don’t have to apologize anymore Hyun. And yes, you can pick me up!

Hyun.

He smiles at the nickname.

He’s down horribly and he knows it.

_

You notice immediately that this drive feels different. He looks excited but nervous too. His fingers tap lightly against the steering wheel while he glances at you every few seconds, like he’s waiting for your reaction before the surprise even happens.

The car stops in front of a large building and you tilt your head questioningly. He grins, a little shy, a little proud over his idea, and gestures for you to follow him.

You immediately realise you’re in a company building. The hallways are never ending, and staff members bow politely as he passes. You notice it, the familiarity, the respect, the way people instantly recognize him. This is his world. Some of them look at you with a strange look on their faces, but they don’t try to interact with you at all, so you simply follow Hyunjin.

He opens a door carefully.

A.. studio?

You’re suddenly inside a huge recording studio. And right there in front of you is another man who looks back at you and Hyunjin and smiles fondly. Does he know you?

Hyunjin signs slowly as he points at him for you to look:

“Friend”

Chan immediately mirrors the greeting, giving you an enthusiastic wave. His smile is kind, gentle in a way that eases your nerves instantly. He types something quickly on a tablet and turns it toward you.

Chan: Hi! I’m Chan, Hyunjin’s bandmate. Hyunjin talks about you a lot. Welcome to our studio. It’s nice to finally meet you”

You smile at him and nod.

He talks about you? He’s.. talked about you to his members? To his group?

Suddenly Hyunjin takes your hand and leads you towards an enormous speaker setup. Huge. Almost intimidating. He suddenly looks nervous, searching your face for trust.

He signs slowly so you can follow every movement.

“I want you to feel my music.”

Did he do research? How does he know how to signs sentences all of a sudden? Your head is already spinning at the fact he’s fully signing before what he actually said even registers.

He guides your hand gently toward the large speaker, an enormous one that’s resting against the wall.

The music starts, and..

BOOM.

A deep vibration surges through the speaker and travels straight into your palm. Strong and alive and you gasp, eyes widening.

The bass pulses again, and again and again. You feel it climb up your arm, into your chest, into your bones. Instinctively, your other hand presses over your heart. The beat syncs beneath your palm. You’re feeling it. Feeling him. His art, his effort. His voice translated into movement, into vibration and emotion.

Your smile grows uncontrollably and you know your eyes are shinning, and then tears spill before you even realize you’re crying. Hyunjin freezes when he sees them.

For one terrifying second he thinks Did I overwhelm her? Did I do something wrong?

But then you laugh silently through your tears, gripping the speaker tighter, shoulders shaking with emotion. And he understands. You feel it. You feel him. He steps closer, overwhelmed himself now, and gently cups your face. His thumbs wipe your tears away one by one, and then he leans down, kissing them softly from your cheeks.

Behind you Chan quietly smiles, and without a word he slips out of the room, closing the door, giving you privacy, protecting the moment.

Hyunjin rests his forehead against yours, the music still pulses through the floor, through your hands, through your heart.

He signs slowly, again: I wanted to share my world with you.

You squeeze his hand, pressing it over your chest so he can feel your heartbeat racing beneath his palm and you kiss kid knuckles.

That’s your answer.

He exhales shakily, overwhelmed by how deeply this moment means means to him, and scared of how much you mean to him.

The tears on your cheeks had barely dried when something shifted in the air between you. His breathing grew heavier, you could feel it. His thumbs stroked your skin once more, then slid down to your jaw.

He kissed you again, hard, passionate, desperate.

It wasn’t like his usual gentle kisses. This one carried everything he had been holding back, longing, fear, and overwhelming want.

His lips moved against yours with urgent hunger, tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands slid into your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted and you whimpered into the kiss, hands fisting in his shirt.

He started to guide you to the couch now, and he locked the studio door with one hand without breaking the kiss.

He sat down on the wide, comfortable studio couch and pulled you with him. You climbed into his lap without thinking, knees bracketing his hips, straddling him. The moment your bodies pressed together you both instinctively moaned. And oh you were needy. So needy. And so was he. And the little sounds you were making were driving him crazy.

Your hips started moving on their own, grinding down against the growing hardness in his pants. The friction was delicious, and you rocked against him again and again, chasing the pressure. He groaned deeply, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hands gripped your waist, guiding your movements.

“Fuck… baby,” he breathed against your neck, making sure you could feel the low rumble of his voice. “You’re so eager for me…”

You answered by rolling your hips harder, desperate little sounds slipping from your throat. The music continued to pulse around you, deep bass thumping through the couch, through his body, into yours. Every beat seemed to sync with the way you moved against him.

Hyunjin’s hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against your bare skin. He helped you pull the fabric over your head, then leaned forward to kiss and bite softly at your neck and collarbone while you continued grinding down on him. The humping grew more frantic, and your breathing was ragged, thighs trembling around his hips as you rubbed yourself against his clothed cock again and again.

He was breathing hard too, forehead pressed to your shoulder, groaning every time you rolled your hips just right.

After several long minutes of this, he finally slid one hand between your bodies. His long fingers slipped under your skirt and into your panties, finding you already soaked.

“So wet for me baby” he said, making sure you read his lips, and his words made you shiver.

He circled your clit slowly at first, then faster. Two of his long, elegant fingers pressed inside you, curling gently, opening you up. He scissored them slowly, stretching you, stroking that sensitive spot inside while his thumb continued rubbing your clit.

You clung to his shoulders, hips rocking desperately onto his fingers, soft whimpers turning into broken moans. Hyunjin watched your face the entire time, eyes dark and full of adoration, occasionally leaning in to kiss you deeply whenever your sounds grew louder.

When he felt you were ready, trembling and dripping around his fingers, he pulled them out gently.

He quickly opened his pants, freeing himself. His cock was hard, flushed, already leaking at the tip. He looked up at you, breathing heavily, eyes sparkling and asking for permission even now. And you answered by lifting your hips, pushing your panties aside, and slowly sinking down onto him.

The stretch was intense.

You gasped, forehead falling against his as you took him inch by inch. Hyunjin’s hands gripped your hips tightly, but he didn’t push, he let you control the pace, groaning deeply every time you sank a little lower.

When he was fully inside you, buried to the hilt, you both stayed still for a moment, breathing each other in.

Then you started moving.

Slow at first. Rolling your hips in deep, sensual circles. Hyunjin’s head fell back against the couch, lips parted, low groans spilling from his throat and you wrapped one arm gently around his neck so you could feel every groan, every moan through your palm. And every time you felt it you’d squeeze him inside you so deliciously.

His hands guided you, helping you ride him harder, deeper.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, looking at you straight in the eyes as he spoke “So tight… so warm… all mine. My perfect girl.”

Your pace quickened. You rode him with desperate need, breasts bouncing slightly with every movement, hands clutching his shoulders for balance. Hyunjin met every roll of your hips with upward thrusts, fucking up into you while keeping one hand on your lower back, pressing you closer.

When you finally came it hit you so hard. Your body clenched around him, a silent cry tearing from your throat as waves of intense pleasure crashed through you. Hyunjin followed right after, pulling out of you quickly, a shuddering groan you felt vibrate through your entire chest. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you against him as he spilled on his stomach.

You looked down at the beautiful mess he had made in himself, and you picked some of it with your finger, bringing it to your mouth.

His head was going to explode. The expressions on his face priceless, making you wet all over again by just how hot he looked looking at you.

His hands started to stroke your back slowly, tenderly. He pressed soft kisses to your sweaty temple, your cheek, your lips. His fingers brushed damp strands of hair away from your face with such gentle care it made your chest ache.

“I think i’m falling in love with you” he mouthed and touched his heart.

Your eyes widened, a smile you couldn’t control. You fell on his chest and kissed him, and you could feel each other’s smiles through the kiss

“Me too” you mouthed back.

You buried your face in his neck, arms wrapped tightly around him, heart still racing.

_

The award still feels unreal in his hands even hours later.

Even after the stage lights, the cameras, the cheers vibrating through the arena floor, the weight of the trophy resting beside the table keeps pulling Hyunjin back to reality.

They won.

The restaurant is loud, warm, crowded with late night laughter and clinking glasses. The members insisted on going out if they won, no managers hovering too closely tonight, just eight exhausted men finally allowed to breathe.

Chan lifts his glass.

“To surviving another year”

Everyone cheers. Glasses collide.

Hyunjin smiles, but his mind drifts elsewhere, and across the table Chan watches him carefully. Too carefully. He knows him too well.

Chan leans forward slowly, eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

“Why do you look like you’re remembering something illegal?”

Laughter erupts instantly.

Changbin snaps his fingers. “He’s been smiling at nothing all night!”

Han points dramatically. “You can’t possibly be this happy over the award you little fuck, just tell us”

Hyunjin groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“I hate all of you.”

Felix grins. “No, no. We love you. That’s why we investigate.”

Seungmin tilts his head. “It’s her, right?”

The table quiets just slightly. Not teasing now, all of them genuinely curious to know.

Because they know.

They’ve watched Hyunjin change the past few months, softer rehearsals, distracted smiles, the way he stays up texting. The way he just looks happier now, more content, complete.

Chan leans back, arms crossed.

“The museum girl.”

Hyunjin exhales, there’s no hiding he’s down bad for her, they already know, he’s already told them, so what’s the point of shying away now.

His voice comes quiet.

“…Yeah.”

Immediately, smiles spread around the table. Jeongin kicks his leg under the table. “Finally.”

Changbin laughs. “So you’re officially together or what?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, embarrassed but smiling anyway. “I don’t know. Yes? I haven’t asked her to be her boyfriend but do I even have to? We both said we’re falling in love with each other.”

He looks down at his glass, thumb tracing condensation along the edge.

“I think…” he hesitates, searching for words. “…I think she sees me. Who I am, who I really am you know?.”

He thinks about how you looked at him before knowing who he was. How heartbroken you were because you thought he’s embarrassed of you, when the thing he wanted to do the most was yell from a rooftop about you.

“I mean, to find someone like her, so kind, so talented, and to not care at all about this life.. this is one in a lifetime”

His friends have long stopped teasing and are now listening to him, some of them smiling, others almost looking proud.

“When I thought I lost her I was a mess”

Felix nods gently. “But you didn’t.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, a small smile forming.

“No.”

Chan watches him carefully, then grins slowly.

“…So.”

Everyone leans in. Chan’s voice lowers dramatically.

“You brought her to the studio yesterday.”

Groans and laughter explode immediately and Hyunjin’s face turns bright red.

“Hyung...”

Chan points accusingly. “You never bring anyone to the studio.”

Changbin slams the table. “Oh my god, you fucked in the studio didn’t you?”

Hyunjin hides his face again, shoulders shaking with mortified laughter.

“That’s none of your goddamn business idiots.”

“Oh my god they did. They fucked in our studio.”

The reaction is instant chaos. Han nearly falls out of his chair. Felix covers his mouth, laughing and Minho claps like someone just scored a goal.

Chan leans back triumphantly.

“I knew it.”

Minho has been itching to ask this, and he finally does

“So, did you have her sign an NDA?”

Hyunjin looked at him like he had asked the craziest thing in the world. Almost disgust forming on his face

“Dude what? No. She will never do anything shady. She’s not like that”

Changbin nudged him. “You waited forever to meet someone like that.” shifting the conversation, knowing how Hyunjin gets with the whole idea of NDAs.

Felix nods warmly. “You deserve someone who understands you.”

Chan’s teasing fades into something softer. “You look lighter,” he says. “On stage today too. I noticed.”

Hyunjin looks at him and smiles, “Really?” he hadn’t realized it himself, but it was true. The performances felt more free lately. The pressure quieter. Because for the first time since forever.. he has somewhere to return to emotionally. Someone who knows him when the lights turn off and loves him anyway for who he really is.

He smiles to himself.

“She felt our music yesterday, that’s why I took her to the studio. She wanted to know, and that’s the only pleas for her to do that.” he says softly.

The table stills again. They are all so curious about how Hyunjin makes it work considering her deafness. He tells them about your hand on the speaker, the way your smile broke open, how you cried while feeling the rhythm through your body.

No one interrupts. Even Changbin grows quiet.

Chan exhales slowly, clearly moved.

“…That’s beautiful, man.”

Hyunjin nods.

“I think… I think this is serious guys. I’m like.. genuinely in love with her.”

Then eight matching grins spread around the table, and Han raises his glass again.

“To Hyunjin finally being in love.”

Glasses lift. They all cheer loudly as Hyunjin blushes, and he doesn’t deny it. How could he when it’s the truth.

He’s so madly in love with you.

Because when he checks his phone under the table and sees your name lighting the screen with a simple message —

Did you eat? Congratulations on your win, I saw you on tv!

— his chest warms in a way no award ever could ever make him feel.

He types back instantly.

Yes. I miss you already.

He doesn’t notice Chan watching him fondly from across the table. Doesn’t notice the knowing smiles exchanged between the members. They’ve seen Hyunjin chase perfection for years. Seen him doubt himself. Seen loneliness hide behind beauty and talent. Tonight he looks peaceful.

And that matters more than any trophy sitting on the table beside them.

[seodwae]

idk if this is a crazy thing to say but im a huge switch chan truther ... like bro

imagine overstimulating him (if he let you, it'd take some convincing but.. if it makes you happy 😓) and then asking him to fuck you after like he isnt two orgasms from passing out 🤔... i want that cookie sooo effing bad guys im gonna lick him being a bang chan ult is not an easy job but someone has to do it 💪

love 🍰 anon 🤗🤗

yeah, this train never sleeps!

————————-

cw - switch!chan, switch!reader, established relationship, chris calls you baby, stamina training, overstimulation (he’s right where he wants to be dw)

wc - tbd, short one with cliffhanger (sorry not sorry)

requested by 🍰!

——————

“.. okay.”

that simple response got chris here, fist in his mouth as he’s fighting for his damn life.

because of his busy schedule and unhealthy work ethic, his stamina is anything but high and unfortunately, he’s become a bit of a pillow princess.

which is fine .. for the most part. you both have versatile sex preferences, so you riding him can be dominate for either of you regardless of being on top.

however, you want to help chris build his stamina. and by help him, you mean help yourself get fucked. like really fucked. but with your boyfriend, you know that takes baby steps. you’re following them, of course..

which is why you’re sucking the soul out of him, even after he already came twice. you’re well beyond his tapping point aka one and done, but you don’t care at all. it’s clear that you don’t when chan bucks up into you, desperately trying to run away, and you don’t even choke.

“b-baby,” chan stutters out around his knuckles, which are red now from how hard he’s biting them.

you hum around him, still bobbing your head relentlessly. satisfaction is somehow evident on your face despite his dick in your mouth, painfully hard. you look pretty on him too, making this even more torturous.

he grunts again, this time with less structure. you know a whimper is hiding beneath, and you’re determined to get it out.

“i-i don’t - hah, i don’t think i can do this,” chris barely manages to finish his sentence.

you pop off and wrap your hand around him to replace the trap of your mouth, stroking him so good that his back arches. “oh but you can, channie,” your eyes are so seductive as you disregard his pleas, so much so that he shuts his eyes to try to keep the very little composure he has left.

then, it all stops.

his chest heaves as his eyes fly open, confused by your sudden action. neither of you missed how his hips bucked up to chase the contact, to chase you.

you turn yourself toward the end of the bed, leaning down to arch your back deep enough to fully present yourself.

“because you’re gonna cum in me next,”

a small whine falls through his lips, even plumper than usual because of his previous restraint.

he whimpered.

and that’s when you both know he’s absolutely done for.

this is gonna be a long, filthy night.

——————

perm taglist - @borikentaino (comment to join or be removed!)

pls interact!!

thanks for droppin in :)

[jinxhallows]

𝐔𝐧𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 .

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☾ -- ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛs

prologue | chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter lucky thirteen | chapter fourteen | chapter fifteen | chapter sixteen | chapter seventeen | chapter eighteen ((you are here)) |

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ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴏᴜs ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ -- @sikebishes @hamburgers101 @felix-housewife @agnes-king @exfolitae @brojustfknkillm3 @skzswife @just-randomm-stuff @thunderous-wolf @3rachasninja @katsukis1wife @hanjingin @mylilliposts

☾ -- ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ? ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ

━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ | ᴡᴄ: 8.6ᴋ

━━━━━━━━

A dense smoky fog blankets the ground as you navigate through it, obscuring everything but the silhouette of barren trees in the distance. Their branches reach out like grasping fingers, lending an air of malevolence to the journey. It feels as though every element of the landscape is vying for a piece of your soul. 

The vampires, purportedly devoid of soul, remain unaffected by the eerie atmosphere. Jisung, however, betrays his unease by idly rubbing his amulet between his fingers. Though he maintains his stoic facade, a flicker of apprehension glimmers in his eyes as he catches your gaze. His smile is unfamiliar, lacking its usual warmth—it's akin to the polite nod given to a stranger who holds open a door.  

This isn't the Jisung you're accustomed to. 

Time is running short for Jisung. He's almost resigned to his fate, harboring a faint hope for a swift, painless end once this journey concludes. The prospect of returning home to face the slow decay of his essence over the remaining years weighs on him. 

Thoughts of his long-lost fiancée flit through his mind. He's yet to encounter her in his frequent visits to the afterlife, but perhaps he'll spend his eternity seeking her out instead of perpetually evading death. 

A tender glance at your stomach reveals his excitement at the thought of becoming an uncle. Even though he likely won't be around to see it happen, he finds comfort in knowing that your child will carry his legacy through their magical bloodline. Someday, they'll cross paths again. 

The dark aura emanating from the coyote demon casts a shadow over the group. The silence is difficult to tolerate in its absolute stillness. Wasn't this supposed to be the most dangerous part of the journey? Only a day ago, you were under siege by demons, yet now, on the brink of the final stretch, there's nothing. Certainly, if there were something in the distance, any one of the supernatural creatures on your sides would be able to detect it. 

Hyunjin listens to the crunch of twigs under his feet, lost in his thoughts. He ponders his mother's cryptic words, wondering if tonight will mark the loss of one of his brothers. Maybe even you. Hyunjin had grown incredibly fond of you, and you had earned his loyalty by rescuing him.

Hyunjin even entertains the idea that it should be him instead. Many uncertainties plague his mind. Returning to the mortal world has been a jarring experience, and true peace eludes him. Hyunjin wonders if he'll ever find any sort of peace, or if this perpetual unrest is his eternal atonement for past sins.

"Hold on, you see that?" Chan's voice breaks through Hyunjin's runaway train of thought, directing everyone's attention to a sudden clearing that appears before you, seemingly out of nowhere. The forest, dense and forbidding just moments ago, now yields to an expansive open space. The nearby sounds of water reach your ears, and squinting reveals the clearing's boundary—a cliff shrouded in thick fog. The archway formed by the bending trees at the cliff's edge invites them to peer beyond, where the natural sky seems to disappear. The impending sunrise has vanished from view, leaving behind a darkness that blankets the forest in a timeless haze. 

"This must be it, I can feel it." Santiago declares, drawing a deep breath as he surveys their surroundings, his senses on high alert despite his formidable power.  He didn't clue anyone else in on it, but he had a strange feeling that they were being followed the last hour of travel. When nobody else made note of it, he attributed it to the twisted curse of this place and let it go.

Is this Abysmora? Or does it lie beyond this mysterious veil of smoke? 

You wrap your arms around yourself tightly, a surge of nausea unsettling your stomach. 

"What did you say?" Chan's concerned voice breaks through your thoughts as he turns to check on you, his expression puzzled by a sound he thought he heard. 

"I didn't say anything," you reply, feeling perplexed. Had your thoughts accidentally slipped out aloud? 

"Weird. I could've sworn I heard something," Chan mutters, his brow furrowing in confusion. 

"Maybe your mind's playing tricks on you," Jisung suggests, joining the conversation. "I didn't hear anything either." 

Chan is still skeptical, approaching you with a frown. He squats down to press his ear against your stomach, and you allow the gesture, gently resting your hand on his head, the weight of the moment heavy amidst the strangeness of the situation. Standing up, he scans the group, finding no confirmation of his earlier perception. 

"Nobody else heard it?" he asks, met with shaking heads all around, including yours. 

"In Abysmora, believe only half of what you see and nothing you hear," Santiago advises, breaking the tension. "I don't wanna tempt Fate; she can be cynical. We have to pay the Coyote demon before we cross over."  You avoid eye contact as Santiago looks at you again, instead averting your eyes to the coyote demon close to the water. Somehow, your anger has shed it's skin to reveal your fragile hurt. You wonder why you aren't worthy of the truth from him, even now, after all you had accomplished.

The sight of your mysterious guide at the cliff's edge draws your attention like a moth to a flame. It hovers there, a few inches above the ground, an enigmatic presence, its form shrouded in shadow. Despite its lack of eyes, it seems to peer intently at the ground below, as if deciphering some hidden message written in the earth itself. The air around it crackles with an otherworldly energy, adding to its mystique as it stands sentinel at the edge of the abyss. 

"I'm sorry, pay him? With what?" Jisung's voice rings with alarm. 

"What do you think, my friend?" Santiago responds, unsheathing his knife. "Our life force." With determined steps, he approaches the coyote demon, and the rest of the group follows suit. It remains unfazed, its attention fixed firmly on the ground. You cling tighter to Chan, who slows to let you grip his arm. 

With a wave of its bony hand over the water's edge, a makeshift raft emerges from the foamy stream. It appears flimsy, like a discarded piece of construction material, hardly capable of supporting its own weight, let alone the rush of the rapids with you all atop it. Yet, it remains steady, held aloft by the coyote demon's power. Santiago steps forward first, slicing his palm and allowing blood to spill onto the demon's outstretched hand. Every drop is absorbed without a trace, prompting Felix to follow suit, eyeing the demon warily before adding his own sacrifice. Jisung, surprisingly, steps up next, his usually cautious demeanor overshadowed by the gravity of the situation. 

Hyunjin's turn comes next, and as you and Chan approach, a sense of dread begins to well up within you. The fear seems to seep from the ground itself, creeping up your legs and constricting your throat.   

Chan, hearing something again, looks down at you, his expression troubled. It's a sound he can't quite place, like a whisper in his mind, indecipherable yet unsettling. He blames it on Abysmora's influence, steeling himself against its effects as he watches Hyunjin make his offering. 

As you and Chan present your own blood sacrifices, the sting of the cut fades, replaced by a tingling sensation that signifies rapid healing. Chan pulls you close, whispering words of reassurance as he guides you onto the raft. "I think she's helping you," he murmurs, speaking of the unborn child you two share and her mysterious powers. You wish those powers could alleviate the nausea that still lingers, but as if in response to your wish, the sickness vanishes without a trace. 

Jisung's voice trembles with a mix of anxiety and bravado as he settles onto the raft. "How sure are we that we’re gonna survive this waterfall drop?" he asks, his words filled with a nervous energy. 

Santiago's response cuts through the tension. "You're asking the wrong questions," he declares cryptically.  “I’m still in a mortal body that has never been to Abysmora, about to go over a waterfall, what questions am I supposed to be asking right now?” 

Perched on the edge of uncertainty, you suppress a chuckle at Jisung's retort, stealing a glance at Felix, who struggles to conceal his amusement behind clenched lips. 

“The toll is paid.” 

With a final decree from the coyote demon, the atmosphere shifts. The ethereal guide dissolves into obsidian mist, and in an instant, the raft is swept into the rushing current. 

Chan's arms encircle you protectively as you bury your head in his chest. His embrace offers a semblance of security, though beneath the surface, fear lies in wait in his veins. It's not the fear of death that grips him, but the fear of loss—of you, of his brothers, Jisung; of the life he's only just begun to consider worth living. 

Chan yearns to utter words of comfort, to quell the storm raging within you. 

Casting a sidelong glance toward Hyunjin, he extends a tentative gesture of affection, seeking to bridge the chasm between them. Though initially stiff under the weight of fraternal embrace, Hyunjin gradually yields to Chan's touch. 

Across the raft, Felix's gaze meets Chan's in a quiet exchange. But before their unspoken bond can solidify, in an instant, the world tilts on its axis as the raft hurtles over the precipice, plunging into the yawning abyss below. 

For a heart-stopping moment, gravity claims dominion, and the sensation of free fall grips you all. The wind whips around you, snatching at your clothes, your hair, as you all hurtle downward into the void. 

But just as suddenly as it began, the vertiginous descent comes to a halt. The world around you seems to freeze, time itself holding its breath as the raft settles into the stillness of Abysmora's dark embrace.    "Fucking Hell—" Felix's expletive pierces the air, jolting you from your reverie. 

"Jisung, little witch, are you—" He begins to ask, worrying for the mortal passengers.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. You?" Jisung's voice wavers with the remnants of adrenaline. 

"I'm... still here," you manage, your voice a fragile whisper amidst the chaos that surrounds you. 

Chan's senses begin getting assaulted by a familiar itch—a primal instinct clawing at the edges of his consciousness.

Surely, he’s not going to turn? Not now? Not like this? 

The same inexplicable murmur tugs at Chan's senses once more, this time drawing his attention squarely to your stomach. An involuntary pang of tenderness wells up within him, a protective instinct he struggles to suppress. And for that second, perhaps two, he doesn't feel his monster trying to come up for air. With a will of its own, his gaze flits away, his jaw clenching with the effort to regain control. 

‘Abysmora is playing tricks on my mind,’ Chan reminds himself sternly, his thoughts a tumultuous whirlwind of uncertainty. He grapples with the realization that, in this strange realm, he may not be able to shield you and his daughter as he wishes. 

But the memory of Amelia, her sacrifice, cuts through the haze of his thoughts like a knife to the heart. He can still feel her absence, a haunting guilt for the price paid for their survival. Chan's arms wrap tightly around himself, his fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket in a desperate attempt to anchor himself in the present, to get out of his own head, to banish the ghosts of the past that threaten to consume him. 

The raft creeps languidly through the dense, murky waters, now a deep, suffocating shade of purple that seems to swallow light rather than reflect it. The waters are calm, yet their opacity hints at untold depths and secrets submerged beneath. Small islets punctuate the expanse like broken teeth, each hosting clusters of weathered gravestones that stand as silent keepers of forgotten lives. Some stones are cloaked in a dense mantle of moss, their inscriptions eroded by time, while others lean precariously, half-engulfed by the encroaching, swamp-like embrace of the water.

The air itself seems to congeal around you, infected with a sense of despair and decay. 

As the raft drifts aimlessly, a disturbing ambiance pervades, heightened by the mist that clings to every surface, weaving through the air like the breath of the isle itself. This mist carries with it an odor so foul, a blend of rotting flesh, sulfur and damp, decayed wood, that it assaults the senses, a physical manifestation of the corruption that seeps from the very soil of this place. 

“Oh God, I- I don’t feel good–” Jisung body convulses slightly as he heaves over the side of the raft, expelling a noxious, black substance—a memory of his earlier possession. The sight is disturbingly out of place against the backdrop of unnatural stillness that surrounds you. He coughs violently, a raw, hacking sound that seems too loud in the oppressive silence, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand, his expression one of revulsion and deep unease.

He speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, but it's clear the very air of Abysmora is anathema to him, a venom to his senses.  “I can’t…I don’t think I can be here very long.”    "I don’t think any of us can…” Felix's voice carries his concern, tasting the bitterness of the venom in his mouth, something he hasn't felt in a long time. Swallowing becomes a chore as the acrid taste spreads, worsening his already noticeable thirst. He keeps his discomfort to himself, knowing his brothers need him now more than ever. Despite the absence of the Full Moon tonight, Abysmora's sky holds no celestial bodies, just an endless void stretching upward into an unseen realm. 

“Where’s Santiago?”     The question of Santiago's whereabouts lingers, as you survey the desolate landscape. Memories of the heated argument with him resurface his words cutting deep. Could he have abandoned the group at the gate, his duty fulfilled by merely delivering you to Abysmora? The worry eats at you, the fear that your past conflicts might have jeopardized the journey for everyone, with no guide to navigate the treacherous unknown ahead. 

None of you have any experience in Abysmora, a daunting realization. It's a frightening thought, to be on an even playing field with some of the strongest creatures you’ve come to know, and all the while carrying your first child.    In truth, Hyunjin has rejected the idea of forming an alliance with Santiago for some time, ever since he inadvertently overheard the conversation back at Lysandra's. Despite the pressing need to focus on capturing Santiago after the Blood Bloom, time constraints forced the brothers to prioritize other tasks. However, with Santiago's sudden disappearance, urgency seeps into their thoughts, amplifying their concerns.    Finally, the raft nudges against the mainland with a soft, almost imperceptible thud, coming to rest at the edge of a larger isle. Here, the tombs are more imposing, grander in their decay, arranged in a deliberate circle that borders the perimeter.

These larger mausoleums and monuments loom like giants, their shadows casting long, dark fingers across the ground as if to welcome—or warn—any who dare to trespass. It feels even heavier here, if possible, threaded with a history of sorrow and darkness that permeates the very ground upon which you’re about to stand.

"No time to figure it out," Chan declares, rising to his feet, his actions prompting the others to follow suit. Stepping onto the mainland, he extends a hand to assist you ashore. Meanwhile, Hyunjin swiftly rips off and repurposes the hood of his jacket into a makeshift mask, covering Jisung's nose and mouth for protection.    “There you are!” Santiago turns the corner of a mausoleum and lays eyes on you.  He seems out of breath, worked up as he shakes his head, catching up with everyone.  

And yet, despite his outward appearance of concern, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes that doesn’t quite match his urgency—a subtle shift in demeanor that leaves you feeling uneasy in his presence.  You hadn’t felt this just moments earlier getting on the raft with him.  

“How did we get separated?” Santiago asks. 

You are the first to answer, unaware of the suspicions of everyone else and just relieved to see another familiar face again.  Though, that nagging doubt gnaws at your mind, whispering of the questions surrounding his sudden reappearance.   

You wonder if Abysmora is playing mind tricks on you too? 

“No idea, but we’re all here, Jisung’s getting sick, we’ve gotta get the Blood Bloom and get out of here.”  You look around, “But where is it?”    "In there." Santiago's gesture directs your attention to a towering statue of a knight, its sword thrust upward toward the darkened sky. "It's always inside the tomb of the One, the very first of our kind." Santiago approaches the statue, touching it with reverence, in a way that strikes you as odd, because it’s as if he hasn’t seen it before, and Santiago said he had taken prior trips to Abysmora, albeit via other routes. 

He must know what the tomb of the “One” looks like? Right?

Muttering under his breath in an unfamiliar tongue, Santiago circles the statue, his intent clear as he seeks a means of entry. 

Felix, ever perceptive, senses a subtle shift in Santiago's aura. Vampires as ancient as he can detect things far beyond micro expressions in mortal faces, no matter what’s wearing the skin.  It’s how they can tell when something isn’t exactly human, or when mortals lie. Yet, this time, something feels different. Is Santiago under some form of influence? What drives him to lead them into the depths of this tomb? He hears the spells the archdemon chants but doesn’t recognize the tongue. 

"Where did you land?" Felix's inquiry interrupts Santiago's prayer, prompting him to refocus his attention. As you join in the search, kneeling amidst the moist earth, the ground squirms with repulsive creatures disturbed from their slumber by your intrusion. 

 "Land?" Santiago straightens up, his confusion evident. "I just woke up behind that grave," he gestures toward a nearby tomb. "I have no idea what happened." His explanation is abruptly interrupted by Jisung's retching, the soul of this environment taking its toll on him once more. As Jisung lifts his makeshift mask to expel another bout of black, putrid vomit onto the soil, Santiago's attention remains fixated on unlocking the tomb's secrets. 

Hyunjin, growing impatient, voices his concern, stepping back to avoid the splatter onto his shoes with a lifted brow. "Can't you do something about him? We can't exactly conjure." 

"It's my bloodline—" Jisung's words are punctuated by another fit of dry heaving. "I can't—my body—" 

You spring into action, rushing to Jisung's side with mounting worry. His suffering raises questions about the influence of this place, and you fear for the well-being of his soul. 

"Jisung, tell me what to do," you plead, desperation clear in your voice as he struggles for breath. But Jisung, consumed by his own distress, cannot offer guidance. With trembling hands, you place your palm against his stomach, channeling an unfamiliar power in a desperate attempt to alleviate his suffering. As your energy flows into his body, Jisung convulses one last time before finding his breath returning in ragged gasps. 

Santiago stays oblivious to the commotion around him, his concentration fixed on the statue, lost in prayer with closed eyes. Meanwhile, Hyunjin's attention wavers as he catches the scent of blood emanating from your ear, a telltale sign of overuse of your conjure. His sudden cough startles you, drawing curious glances from his brothers as he hurriedly wipes his nose, trying to conceal his reaction. The scent reaches Felix next, prompting you to check yourself, and your fingers come away stained with blood. Panic sets in as you hastily wipe your neck with your hoodie sleeve, inadvertently spreading the stain further into the fabric.   

You’ve made it so much worse, and you don’t even know it.      "This can't be what I think it is," Chan says as he uncovers something amidst the infested soil. He holds up a fragment that appears to be from a golden beret, the gold melted over one of the encased jewels, evidence of a failed attempt at destruction. "Do you see this or am I imagining things?"    Felix's heart races as he snatches the fragment from his brother's hand, his senses heightened to every sound, every scent around him. "This is it, this is... I have no doubt," he declares, his voice tight with apprehension. He turns to Hyunjin, whose eyes are fixed on the cursed fragment a few feet away. But instead of their usual crystal blue, they shimmer with a bright amber hue, a telltale sign of a loss of control. Hyunjin shuts his eyes tightly, fighting against the onslaught of disturbing images flooding his mind. He feels the creeping sensation of tiny toothed imps devouring his flesh in the depths of Purgatory, a sensation he fights against with every fiber of his being. Is it the curse or is it just him? 

Passing the fragment to Chan, Felix approaches Hyunjin; and he gently shakes his younger brother from his trance, their eyes meet, and Felix is struck by the vulnerability in those familiar baby blues, a contrast to the centuries of resilience he's come to expect. 

"Brother, what’s—how do you feel?" Felix's voice is soft, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual stoicism. He sees the innocence in Hyunjin once more, a vulnerable human amidst the vast expanse of their immortal existence. 

“Afraid, brother,” Hyunjin confesses, his voice laced with raw emotion. He blinks back the bitterness in his eyes, unable to maintain the eye contact with Felix. “I can’t go through this again. I–I can’t, I’ll die, Felix. I’ll die first.”    Felix's voice cuts through the chaos, gentle yet firm, as he addresses his brother. "Hey now," he begins, his words carrying a sense of his own certainty, a vow to himself amidst the uncertainty surrounding them. 

"I’ll die before you go through that again." 

Hyunjin meets Felix's gaze, feeling a rush of emotions within him. Even that has become foreign after being gone for so long; feeling emotions he'd forgotten the weight of. In that moment of silent connection, he senses the weight of their bond, built over countless centuries of shared trials and unspoken understanding. Despite the shadows of their tumultuous past looming over them, Hyunjin finds safety in the unwavering intensity of Felix's gaze, a silent promise of protection and support. This rediscovered depth in their relationship speaks volumes, highlighting the profound significance they both place on each other's well-being. 

━━━━━━━━   The tension in the room is filled with anger and resentment as Chan confronts his younger brother, his voice echoing off the stone walls. Hyunjin's defiance matches his elder sibling's intensity, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury. 

"Are you mad, brother?! You're in bloodlust!" Chan's words cut through the air like a whip, each syllable dripping with disbelief and frustration. He can't comprehend Hyunjin's actions, can't fathom the depths of his rage. 

"Now you've killed her son?! Amelia's brother?!" Chan's accusation hangs in the air, a damning indictment of Hyunjin's actions. 

"Did her mother not take our parents from us first?!" Hyunjin's retort is sharp, laced with bitterness and grief. To him, his actions are justified, a reckoning for the injustices inflicted upon their family. 

But Chan's anger simmers, threatening to boil over as he struggles to contain his emotions. With a roar of frustration, he hurls a nearby chair against the wall, the sound of splintering wood punctuating the heated exchange. 

"Those were my parents too," Chan's voice is raw with emotion, his eyes flashing with a mix of pain and fury. "Do you not think me furious as well? Do you doubt that I too, want to drink from their hearts and watch them fall to my feet?!" 

Hyunjin stands his ground, undeterred by his brother's outburst. He remains unshaken, fueled by a burning desire for justice. 

"Yes, Christophe, I do!" Hyunjin's words are a challenge, a testament to his unwavering conviction. "I doubt you want to do anything more than run with your tail between your legs, defending a traitorous witch, the very daughter of the woman who murdered our parents!" 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the closed door, Amelia stands frozen, her hand hovering over the doorknob. A cool hand touches her shoulder, and she turns to find Felix by her side. His silent guidance urges her to stay back, to let the brothers work through their grievances without interference. 

As they move a few steps away from the door, Amelia embraces him, softly crying into the fabric of his blouse. Felix's thoughts churn with concern. The arguments between his brothers have become more frequent, fueled by Hyunjin's growing impatience and resentment. His thirst for vengeance risks engulfing him, driving them to move twice in the last four months alone. 

Felix knows Hyunjin cannot be contained, his actions driven by a primal need for retribution. Yet, despite his own fury towards Amelia's family, he understands the futility of their situation. They are newborn vampires--outnumbered, outmatched, and outsmarted without a plan. 

But what troubles Felix the most is Chan's hesitance, his reluctance to act. And as they stand in silence, away from the fight unfolding on the other side of the door, Felix can't shake the feeling that something is amiss, something he can't quite put his finger on… 

   ━━━━━━━━  

"Santiago," Chan's voice cuts through the tension, his gaze fixed on the archdemon who is still engrossed in his task. With each passing moment, Santiago's words grow more rapid, fueled by a sense of passion that borders on obsession. Chan moves closer, reaching out to get Santiago's attention. "Santiago, hey–" 

The statue begins to shift, its movement accompanied by the harsh scraping of rock and the unsettling rumble of the earth beneath their feet. Hissing echoes around you as the creatures in the soil turn aggressive, some leaping into the air with fangs bared. Hyunjin reacts swiftly, his movements a blur as he dispatches several of the creatures with deadly precision. 

"Protect this at all costs," Chan's command is clear and direct as he locks eyes with you, a brief flash of amber in his gaze before he blinks it away. He presses the beret fragment into your hand, urging you to keep it safe. 

“Come on, hurry!” Santiago hurries down the stairs into the tomb.  You tuck the fragment into your bra and the rest of you have no time to think, and you follow behind, risking the chance that being in the tomb of the very first demon in creation would be safer than being on Abysmora's grounds, exposed. 

If there was anything lurking in this strange place, they certainly know they have unwelcome visitors now.    Jisung's condition noticeably improves as the darkness envelops them, the sickness that had plagued him fading into the blackness. Yet, amidst the near pitch-black surroundings, a distant blue glow emanates from a room at the far end of the underground tunnel. Backed by a surge of adrenaline, you act swiftly, your fingers darting like arrows to ignite the sconces along the walls. Each flame catches, casting a blue hue that bathes the chamber in its glow.    As the dim blue glow from the sconces barely penetrates the darkness, Jisung finds himself momentarily awed by your ingenuity. But any sense of accomplishment is swiftly overshadowed by the atmosphere closing in around you. The tomb of the first demon ever to exist feels suffocating, each breath tainted by the heavy, musty scent of centuries past. With each inhale, Jisung's heart flutters nervously.    In an attempt to summon his conjure to navigate the path ahead, Jisung encounters an unexpected resistance, as though an invisible force is constricting his abilities. A dryness creeps into his mouth, he can’t be powerless yet?! How is this possible?! You were able to light the way without hesitation.  

"Now what?" You whisper, your voice barely audible over the silence. Turning to seek guidance from Santiago, you find him vanished once more. 

"What the–" 

"Little witch, we can’t trust him," Felix's voice cuts through the darkness, his hand pulling you closer to the rough stone wall for protection. 

"But he said–" 

"It doesn’t matter what he’s said," Felix's tone is firm, his words tinged with urgency. "We can’t trust him." 

With no other options available, Hyunjin strides ahead, his figure disappearing into the hallway, with Jisung following closely behind. There is no turning back now, no room for hesitation. You’ve come too far to retreat, your only choice is to press onward.  The confines of the tomb seem to be closing in on Chan, the primal instincts of his wolf beginning to overwhelm him. Sensing the impending shift, he knows he must act quickly, not willing to risk losing control in such close quarters, especially with you nearby. 

With a determined step backward, Chan starts to unzip his hoodie, preparing for the inevitable transformation. His voice carries a note of urgency as he speaks to Felix, his brother, and you. "Felix, you and little witch go on ahead with the others. I’ll catch up with you soon." 

Felix puts his arm around your shoulders and obeys his elder brother’s command. 

As Chan's metamorphosis reverberates through the ancient confines of the tomb, each sinewy shift heralds the awakening of primordial forces. A chill snakes down your spine at the power unleashed, but with Felix's presence guiding you onward, there's little room for fear, only purpose. 

Stepping into the chamber's heart, you feel a lack of control, like you've stepped into public in the nude. This feeling sticks to you as if you're an insect on fly paper, the discomfort follows you. Your gaze is drawn to the raised platform, where a mummified figure cradles a flower in its desiccated grasp. Against the backdrop of darkness, the bloom's vibrant hues stand in defiance, its petals swirling in an ethereal dance.  On the opposite end, Jisung stands watchful, his focus unwavering as he hovers over the coffin. Bathed in the soft azure glow of the chandelier above, the scene unfolds like a tableau of strange beauty, casting shadows that dance across the chamber's walls. 

Your breath catches as you draw near, the allure of the flower irresistible. Its petals, delicate yet sinuous, seem to pulse with a life of their own, their crimson hue a vivid sign of its unearthly vitality. And at the heart, a pool of crimson gleams with luminescence, a symbol of the bloom's power. 

"This is it," you murmur, your voice a mere whisper amidst the hallowed silence of the tomb. "The Blood Bloom." 

Jisung's brows furrow in disbelief, his head shaking in denial. “The legend I remember said it grows in the soil of Abysmora…”    Despite his hesitance, he leans forward, sensing the same energy that grips you both.  

As a sudden stillness envelops the chamber, Jisung's instincts flare, a warning pulsing through his veins. With a sense of alarm, he whirls around, calling out for his missing companions. "Felix? Hyunjin?" His voice echoes off the stone walls, met only by silence. 

Your palms grow clammy, fear prickling at the nape of your neck. "What's happening? What's wrong?" you stammer.    "Oh look, you found it!"     Santiago's voice cuts through the tension, his arrival heralded by a sense of impending doom. Panic floods your veins as you instinctively back away, only to be ensnared by a vice-like grip from behind. Your breath catches in your throat, your thoughts racing to the safety of your unborn child, as fear tightens its grip on your heart. 

"H-Hyunjin..." The name escapes your lips in a breathless whisper, finally realizing the scent. Your body tenses, every nerve on edge as you struggle to keep your composure. 

Before Jisung can react, Felix is upon him, his strength overwhelming as he wrestles the younger man into submission. You look to Santiago, the sight before you twisting your stomach into knots. His head lolls to the side with a sickening crack, a grotesque contortion of flesh and bone. As his eyes roll back into his skull, his skin begins to slough off like molten wax, revealing a smaller, naked figure beneath. 

This new form is like something out of a nightmare, its skin slick with a viscous substance that oozes and drips. The creature's features are twisted and deformed, elongated limbs and sharp, angular joints giving it a disturbed appearance. Its eyes, once human, now gleam with a endless black, reflecting the depths of its sinister nature. 

As the demon's gaze fixes upon you, a shiver runs down your spine, fear gripping you with icy fingers. As Jisung struggles against Felix's overpowering grip, his frustration mounts with each futile attempt to break free. Heat radiates from his palms, a manifestation of his inner turmoil, but it's as if an invisible barrier stifles his efforts, rendering his conjure useless. 

“The audacity only a Han would have, trying to use your conjure here, now don’t you know better? Then again, you want to die, don’t you?” The demon's voice drips with malice, taunting Jisung with cruel words. 

Jisung refuses to dignify the demon's words with a response, his jaw clenched tight in defiance. Beneath his poker face, a sort of fear dances in his eyes. The demon's insight and access into his psyche unnerves him, exposing vulnerabilities he'd rather keep hidden. 

“I have a name, you know.” The demon's grin widens, revealing a mouth lined with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. “Do you want to know it?” 

“Oliver,” you breathe, the name escaping your lips like a curse, triggering a flood of memories from your night terrors that you'd rather forget.  "She's smart, isn't she?" Oliver's voice drips with malicious intent, each word laced with venomous glee. The knowledge that you know his name seems to egg on his perverse joy, a sickening trophy of the power he holds over you, a feeling he rarely gets to feel in his own existence. In the dimly lit chamber, his grin casts twisted shadows across the walls.   

As your gaze darts nervously around the room, searching for any sign of escape, the sound of sloshing footsteps draws your attention to another presence lurking in the shadows. With a sickening lurch of your stomach, you realize that you're not alone, the presence of another demon sending a wave of fear over you. 

The unnamed demon drags a large and furry form into the chamber, its tortured cries echoing off the walls as it's callously thrown against the unforgiving stone. Your heart sinks in your chest at the sight. 

"NO!" Your voice rings out in a desperate plea, the words torn from your throat in a frantic rush. "Hyunjin, let go of me! Stop! This isn't you! That's your brother! Felix! Felix, it's me! Y/N! You're stronger than this! All of you are!" But your cries fall on deaf ears, drowned out by the cruel laughter of the demons that surround you. 

"Chan—Chan, please," you plead, your voice barely a whisper amidst the chaos unfolding around you. Exhausted and defeated, you sink to the ground, your body wracked with sobs as despair threatens to eat you alive and spit you back out with no remorse.    "Y/N, stop," Jisung's voice cuts through the noise, his tone firm as he locks eyes with you from across the room. His gaze speaks volumes, silently urging you to quell your desperate pleas. In this moment of peril, communication is reduced to silent exchanges, a shared understanding passing between you both. 

With a deep breath, you stifle your cries, recognizing the urgency of the situation. Any hope of escape hinges on maintaining composure, lest you risk losing control of your conjure before it can be wielded as a weapon against your captors. 

Exhausted and defeated, you offer no resistance as Hyunjin releases his grip, allowing your body to crumple to the ground. His derisive laughter rings in your ears.    Meanwhile, Oliver's attention drifts to the Blood Bloom, his excitement obvious as he revels in the discovery.     “They really found it, the Blood Bloom!” His voice echoes through the chamber, a frenzied tirade of anticipation as he fixates on the object of his obsession. But his excitement is short-lived, abruptly cut off by a sudden surge of malice directed at the lesser demon. 

"What are you waiting for?! Bring the Mistress!" Oliver commands, his impatience boiling over as he demands action. With a hurried nod, the lesser demon scurries away, his footsteps fading into the distance as he disappears into the darkness. 

Lying on the dirt-covered brick floor, you succumb to silent tears, the weight of anguish pressing down on you like a leaden blanket. With jittery hands, you crawl forward, the distance between you and the wolf reduced to mere inches. As you nestle your face into the coarse fur of the muzzle, a gentle warmth caresses you, soothing the raw edges of your fractured spirit. 

Suddenly, in the darkness, amidst the faint scent of earths and decay, you feel it—a tender brush against your nose, followed by two more delicate licks. Slowly, you open your eyes, greeted by the shimmering gold orbs of the wolf before you. It's a curious sight, this peculiar hue, but within those luminous windows to his soul, you find an unexpected solace—a glimmer of Chan's inherent spirit shining through.    You continue to feign distress, your sobs a desperate symphony masking the turmoil within. Each movement is calculated, every tremor carefully choreographed to draw attention away from your clandestine actions. Your fingers venture into the wolf's mouth, inching closer to the razor-sharp teeth that threaten to sever skin from bone. 

As your wrist hovers over the waiting fangs, fear coils in the pit of your stomach, a visceral reminder of the perilous dance you've chosen to partake in. But you steel yourself against the rising tide of panic, a vow echoing in the recesses of your mind.     You'll fight tooth and nail, even if it means staring death in the face, for you know that within the pits of Hell lies the flickering ember of hope. 

With a nod of assent, Chan's lip twitches in acknowledgment, a fleeting moment of connection. As he closes his jaws with painstaking care, the taste of blood blooms in his mouth, on his tongue, along his gums. Through gritted teeth, you endure the searing pain.    Jisung's mind races as he formulates a plan to wrest control from the clutches of Oliver. With each passing second, the grip of the demon's influence tightens around the minds of Felix and Hyunjin, reducing them to mere marionettes in this macabre play. 

"Felix," Jisung breathes, barely audible in the hushed chamber, "Can you hear me?" 

The vice-like hold tightens, and Felix's response echoes through the silence.  

"Loud and clear, mate," he replies, the words filled with a predatory glee that reminds Jisung of exactly how different they really are from one another when it comes down to being factory reset to pure instinct. 

‘Shit’. A curse punctuates Jisung's thoughts; reaching them in this state seems impossible. Oliver's conjure has rewritten their essence, transforming them into instruments of darkness. To break this unholy connection, the source needs to be severed, and at this moment, Oliver stands as the puppeteer, feeble or not. 

As Chan discreetly drinks from you in his wolf form, Jisung's mind churns with frustration, the invisible chains of restraint still boggling him. 'If he has me restrained, there must be a physical block somewhere' he muses, a spark of realization flickering to life amidst the darkness. 'So how is he doing it? Where is it?' 

A sweeping glance around the chamber reveals the answer, hidden in plain sight. The talismans, hanging down from the ropes strung along the ceiling, catch Jisung's attention. They're no ordinary charms; they bear the unmistakable markings of Korean origin, Bujeok, but warped and twisted into a perversion of their intended purpose.  

These were crafted with him in mind, designed to stifle his magic and render him powerless. 

'Bingo'    He knows what he must do to break free from Oliver's grip, to reclaim control and turn the tide of this deadly game.   Jisung's words slice through the air with a cunning edge as he probes for weaknesses in Oliver's facade. "Possessing the minds of vampires is light work, what’d you do, a blood bind of some sort?" he questions, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

Oliver's response is swift, a mixture of amusement and hubris. "Well, aren’t you an arrogant little witch?" he retorts, unknowingly stepping right into Jisung's trap. "Demons do more than blood bind to have others do our bidding." 

A smirk plays at the corners of Jisung's lips as he goads Oliver further. "I guess you haven’t figured out how to get a Han to do your bidding though, so you had to use these guys," he gestures disdainfully toward the vampire restraining him. "I mean, I get it though, you don’t look capable of doing it yourself." 

You listen with bated breath, the cool touch of the earth grounding you while Chan's watchful eyes mirror your own tenacity. 

With calculated steps, Oliver descends from the platform, each movement purposeful and deliberate. A glint of steel catches the dim light as he approaches Jisung. As the blade he wields grazes Jisung's cheek, a thin rivulet of blood appears, tracing a crimson path down his face. Oliver steps back, grinning while Felix looms ominously behind Jisung. 

In a mocking tone, Oliver scoffs, "Miss Edith couldn't care less about the likes of you." 

Despite the threat at his neck, Jisung remains steadfast, his gaze averted from Felix's predatory presence. "You're a bad liar," he counters, a beacon of defiance in the face of imminent danger. 

Oliver's smirk fades into a scowl. "I'll have your best friend drain you dry until you're nothing but a lifeless husk." 

Jisung's laughter rings out, carrying a hint of madness. “Yeah, but then you’ll have a mighty angry vampire that can conjure on your hands, and how will you handle that? Oh fuck, you can’t--”  

“You’ll just piss off your Mistress, and I get the feeling that’s a habit of yours—what was your name again?”    The demon's rage is evident, his fists clenched at his sides as he discards the knife, the sound of its impact echoing through the chamber as it hits the ground. His bluff has been called; a demon under another's command lacks the authority to make unilateral decisions, especially ones as significant as ending the lives of captives. Captives that they’ve taken the time to carefully ward against. 

For reasons unknown, they need him alive, at least for the time being. 

"You'll regret this," Oliver seethes, his departure swift as he hurries to investigate the delay in the other demon's return, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the chamber.   Hyunjin stands frozen, his gaze vacant, like a puppet abandoned by its puppeteer. Felix, unmoving, maintains his vice-like hold around Jisung, his thoughts seemingly distant despite his physical grasp.  

With resolve sparking in your weary eyes, you snatch up the knife, ready to act. 

"Little witch, hurry," Jisung urges, his voice barely above a whisper, directing your attention to the talismans hanging from the ceiling. "Cut them down—they're sapping our power."  You swiftly ascend the stone platforms, a strength from an unknown place guiding your every move as you slice through the ropes with the knife. With each talisman that falls, dissipating into wisps of blue smoke, a surge of hope fills the air. Chan, his wolf form a blur, disappears into the darkness, tracking the demons' elusive trail. Your focus wavers momentarily, but Jisung's urgent plea snaps you back to the task at hand. 

"No time, keep going!" he insists, spurring you onward. With steady hands, you continue your circuit around the room, severing the final ropes. Jisung, eyes closed in concentration, channels his purifying energy, causing Felix to recoil and collapse, overcome by the searing sensation of his blood boiling under his skin. As Jisung kneels beside the fallen vampire, a grimly determined spirit, unflinching and serious, settles over him. 

Frustration tinges his voice as he assesses the situation. “Fuck, they’re in deep.” 

You wave your hand in front of Hyunjin’s face but he doesn’t even blink.  “What can we do?” 

"Nothing, yet. We've gotta kill that bastard first." Jisung replies, scanning the room for any signs of their next move. Striding over to the mummified corpse, he delivers a swift kick to the wooden coffin, and you wince, splintering it open. With practiced efficiency, he breaks off a jagged piece of wood, handing it to you before keeping one for himself. 

“But if we have to protect ourselves,” He gestures to the two vampires, “This is the only chance we’ve got.” 

You gaze at the stake in your hand, horror coursing through you at the thought of wielding it against those who have become your kin, your protectors. 

"Listen," Jisung's voice breaks through your turmoil, his tone resolute as he senses your hesitation. “If their souls get away from us again, I can’t help to get ‘em back.  Death is a mercy, but it’s our last resort.”

You agree, though as you look at your friends, lost and locked inside of themselves, you wonder if you’ll follow through with such a promise if the moment were to ever present itself.    Retreating toward the coffin, your gaze fixates on the flower delicately held within its grasp. Without much thought, or perhaps with thought you aren't conscious of, you extend your hand, fingers brushing against the petals, taking it into your grasp. Half-expecting the tomb to quake and crumble around you, like a scene ripped from the pages of a thrilling adventure, you're startled when the chamber remains still. 

"In my dream they wanted to stop us from getting this, I don't know why," you assert, locking eyes with Jisung, an unquenchable fire burning bright within you as you secure the flower in your pocket. "The odds are now in our favor." 

You dart down the corridor, Jisung hot on your heels, fueled by your sudden fearlessness. As the cavern splits into two diverging paths, you and Jisung find yourselves back to back, each scanning for a sign of which route to take. 

Jisung's senses, honed by experience, detect a pulsating energy emanating from the right tunnel. He purposefully directs you away from it, "Go Left!" he calls out to you, his voice echoing down the corridor like a solemn decree. Without a moment's hesitation, you veer down the opposite path, placing your trust in his keen intuition as he forges ahead toward the heart of the mysterious power. In the glow of his flickering flames, Jisung continues on, his back pressed against the unyielding stone walls, each step plunging him deeper, and he can feel himself descending, guided by the flames in his palm, taxing his magick as a necessary means of sight...  You creep, as light as you can on your feet down the hall, and though you don’t sense much, you feel like you’re moving towards something, someone important. A thought crosses you, and you recognize the feeling from before, when you could sense Chan's presence.  You're just not sure how the honing mechanism works in your body. You come to a stop, straining your ears in the silence to hear anything.  How could a place so evil be so silent? Maybe that was a part of its sinister nature, you’re in a constant state of paranoia, questioning everything you encounter.  

That’s when you hear it.    A cacophony reaches your ears—a wet, slurping noise interspersed with sharp cracks and snaps. Despite the unease creeping over you, you find yourself moving forward anyway, your feet carrying you around the corner even as your instincts scream at you to flee. 

As you round the bend, the sounds abruptly cease, leaving a heavy silence in their wake. With shaky hands, you summon a burst of flame, its flickering light casting shadows across the room. You shield your eyes from the sudden brightness, snapping your fingers again to maintain control over the fire with an extended palm, its glow offering a glimpse of the scene before you. 

With a sigh of relief, you realize it is Chan, still in his wolf form, perched atop the body beneath him, methodically tearing away its limbs. Despite the gruesome scene before you, you don't recoil in horror. Instead, a strange understanding dawns upon you—a glimpse into Chan's cryptic intentions. He's systematically dismembering the body.   Catapulted into action, you scour the area until your eyes land on a discarded plank embedded with rusted nails. You don't carry natural nightvision like he does. With a snap of your fingers, flames dance along its surface, casting a flickering glow that barely illuminates the chamber. You hope, to be able to talk about how much you've improved with Jisung once you're all out of this mess. To thank him for everything's he's done for you to get this far with your conjure. Armed with a knife of strangely high quality, the one Oliver had dropped earlier, you set to work, slicing through the demon's flesh with surprising ease. It’s as if its appendages were made of gelatinous cartilage rather than solid muscle. 

With a final, resolute stroke, you lock gazes with Chan, something primitive passing between you two. Taking a deep breath, you shift your focus to the grisly sight before you: the half-mauled neck upon which Chan still labors. You issue a directive, "The leg," you command, indicating the limb lying closest to you. You direct Chan to the leg on your side, trading places to continue the task. You hack away at the remaining flesh of the neck until the head is brutally separated from its body. As the final blow lands, the detached leg collapses to the ground with a sickening thud as the wolf by your side finishes alongside you. 

Chan nudges your wrist, smearing your hoodie sleeve with the dark ichor of the fallen demon. Bewildered, you meet his gaze. "What's wrong?" 

The massive black wolf pads over to the plank, its end nears the final embers of its burn. With a sagacious air, he settles down, resting his head upon his paws. You nod in silent comprehension, scrambling to your feet and surveying the room for flammable materials. Hastily, you gather anything combustible, stacking them in the center of the chamber—a rickety wooden stool, dusty tomes whose contents held no value, and any other debris within reach. 

Chan prowls around the scattered body parts, a low growl rumbling from deep within his chest, and you begin to deduce the demon isn’t gone yet.  "Let's go," you command, stepping backward as Chan joins you at the entrance. With a steady focus, you close your eyes, channeling the power within you. In an explosion of heat and light, flames engulf the chamber, forming a barrier that forces you to retreat, the intensity making you stumble and fall to the ground. Though the flames lick at your skin, they do not scorch, leaving you breathless as you gaze at your hands.    How did you just do that?!    A sharp itch on your forearm draws your attention, prompting you to hastily roll up your sleeve. To your astonishment, you find a series of canine tooth marks left by Chan's earlier bite, unhealed, the crescent pattern etched into your flesh. Frustration bubbles within you as you scratch at the irritated skin, rising to your feet just as the flames begin to dwindle.

"Fuck, Chan, what is this?" you demand, only to find Jisung's figure illuminated by the dying embers, his eyes glinting an unnatural complete black in the dim light.  He grins wickedly as he snatches your wrist tightly, looking down at the bite. “I don’t know, looks pretty bad though.”  Before you can react, he painfully twists your wrist, and darkness consumes you, consciousness slipping away as you collapse into oblivion. 

[belleeebelleee]

chan who's only ever fucked you soft and gently

"baby, sit down and let me help you feel better."

“You told me that you loved me and then ran away, what am I supposed to do with that?"

accidentally sexting him

inexperienced big dick chan ~ part 2 ~ part 3 ~ part 4

"Why me?"

needy and exhausted

plus sized reader

celibate until marriage

aftercare

daddy and babygirl kink

Domestic dom Channie

just right

Inexperienced Chan with inexperienced reader

sore

Bang Chan is annoying

sugar daddy

telling sugar daddy Bang Chan that you're pregnant

Bang Chan meets your daughter for the first time

cute moments

distraction

stress relief

[abiaswreck]

Everlasting

Pairing: Vampire!Chan x Human Fem!Reader, Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chris loved one woman his entire existence. Cursed with immortality, he looks for a will to go on. After 400 years, he’s finally found a reason: the love of his life was reborn, but she’s soon to be married.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI with adult content. Character deaths, blood feeding, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), accidental voyeurism, masturbation, dubious consent(sex in a dream), nipple play, use of pet names, and a god damn insane amount of acknowledgment to Chris’ stupid plush lips because I have no self control.

Word Count: 18,900 and some change

Author’s Note: This is a commission for the lovely @brittahontas! Thank you for giving me a beautiful prompt. I’ve been in love with Dracula for so long, and we needed a fic where he gets the girl. I am forever grateful for your support. It helps more than you know. If you guys are curious how to get a commission of your own, check out this post. Otherwise, please enjoy!

+++++++++

A sheet of grey clouds engulfs the sky in London. No sun peeks through, and the expectation of rain is a certainty. Chris doesn’t worry as his carriage continues down the cobblestone path. From behind him, a clock bell rings out, marking the hour of noon as the carriage crosses the river. He hates being out during the day, but certain affairs needed to be settled. The sooner, the better. 

Chris looks down at the envelope in his hand. He is on his way to meet with Hyunjin Hwang. A newer solicitor at Harrison & Associates. The man is young but promising, willing to do the legwork in securing a property, or so the owner promises. Chris has only one concern; he asked for secrecy. Less interaction is better. The company would reap substantial rewards if Hyunjin bought the properties swiftly and privately.

Hyunjin’s penmanship is eloquent. It’s refreshing to see it in the letter sent in response to the property inquiry. Even on the appointment card there is delicate lettering. Any time Chris rejoins society after several decades of slumbering, he worries about the changes. Society forces him to adapt and discover what advancements have occurred. At least humans are consistent with being stupid creatures, still preoccupied with fighting for imaginary power as if it matters. 

The surrounding city changed quite a bit since his last visit. To be expected after two hundred years. Growth appears to be exponential. There are new buildings, though the main roads remain the same, just not as wide. His carriage stops in front of what used to be a building owned by a shoemaker; it now is his destination for his meeting today. 

Chris steps out with grace, not bothering to take in the bustling city life around him. Instead, he focuses on the large glass window that reveals the young man he suspects to be Hyunjin in the otherwise empty office. He’s a handsome man with his brown eyes and plush lips. Women must adore him. Especially now, with a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose while he’s tying up long raven locks away from his face. 

The door chimes above Chris as he steps into the business. Immediately the human looks up from his stack of papers, forcing a smile onto his face. His voice is soft and polite as he stands. “Ah, you must be Lord Bahng. It’s a pleasure to meet you finally. I apologize for making you come all this way.”

“That’s quite alright,” he answered, removing his gloves before tucking them into his jacket. “How is Mr. Anderson?”

“Unwell. Doctors are confident, though.” Hyunjin shifts the weight on his feet. There is a spike in his heart rate, even though he masks his unease well. “Um, how are the accommodations? I know it’s not the best for a prince, but are you adjusting well?”

Chris doesn’t miss the redirection from Hyunjin. Anderson is nearing death. Will this young solicitor be inheriting the company then? That is a lot of pressure for someone without years in the industry; perhaps that’s why he was so eager to follow the absurd demands. “The staff is exceptional.”

“Good. Very good. Uh…” Hyunjin’s words trail off as he sorts through the folders on his desk until he finds the one he needs. “Your shipments arrived. Unfortunately, the ship never made it to the pier. The storm crashed the Demeter onto the coast several miles north. I can assure you that only one crate sustained damage. I believe it was dirt; they salvaged what they could.”

Chris briefly sucks on one of his fangs, a habit of his when annoyed. It’s perfectly fine. Was it taken to the abbey?”

“Yes, sir. Right in the heart of London.” Hyunjin takes out a map from the stack of files and lays it out on the surface of his desk. “After today, I will have the deeds for the last two properties, and we can begin transport if you require it.”

“How far are the last two properties from here?”

“Six miles.” Hyunjin answers before pointing at two different locations. Chris leans forward to examine the distance. “I have to say, this is a great way to have connections across the country.”

Hyunjin isn’t wrong. This is what Chris needs. He can cover more ground this way and expand outwards. His previous purchases were in France to help establish roots, but here he can expand his footing west. He’s unsure what his next move will be. Maybe he will mingle with the nightlife. 

The young man speaks up again. “Forgive me for being curious, but what brings you here? Has the city summoned you?”

“A change of scenery, I guess you could say.”

“How is Romania?” Hyunjin asks, eyes full of genuine curiosity. “I’ve never been out of the country.”

“The winters can be very unforgiving,” Chris answers honestly. His mind flickers over a dark memory in particular, but he shakes it off to keep his composure. “Summer makes up for it.”

More business talk occurs. There is paperwork to be addressed. Hyunjin signs over deeds to the four properties he had already bought. Keys are to be given with proper labeling. Hyunjin humbly accepts the large amount of money from Chris. The professionalism and trust in this small company appeared to be the right call.  

As Hyunjin moves around the cramped office, Chris reaches for a sketchpad on the corner of the desk he’d been eyeing for the last half an hour. There is an illustration of a skyline of buildings in brown ink. It’s then that Chris realizes it’s not ink that was the medium used; rather, it was coffee. The paper still has a lingering scent from the brewed beans. Chris admires the talent before speaking about it. “Did you paint this yourself?”

“Yes, sir.” Hyunjin slinks back into his chair, almost embarrassed that he left the artwork on display. “It’s just a silly hobby of mine.”

“You’re quite talented. Your art belongs on walls.”

There’s a bitterness in Hyunjin’s tone as he replies. “Unfortunately, my art doesn’t generate enough income to cover my expenses.”

Chris gives a knowing nod. He’s met plenty of starving artists throughout the years. Hyunjin doesn’t stop him from flipping through the pages of artwork; instead, he continues to fill out more paperwork. There is a range of pieces. Flowers at every stage of life, distinct memories of the places Hyunjin traveled to, and then there are a few faceless couples in various embraces. The man is clearly a romantic. 

Chris nearly drops the pad when flipping over the next page. Disbelief floods his system. It can not be. There is no way that what he sees is real. It must be a trick. He blinks a few times to assure himself that what is on this page isn’t a delusion of a grieving man. 

There, taking up a full page, is a sketch of you. 

He runs his fingers over the illustration, tracing the hair that frames your face. The eye shape is the same. Your lips are just as full as he remembers. The sketch includes the brow bone, cheekbones, and even the scar on your chin. It’s in fact you, his bride. This man’s sketchpad captured his eternal love. 

Your remains are dust in a grave back in Romania. He left you in the gardens you adored so much. This is not an imagined piece, Chris tells himself. Most of Hyunjin’s drawings don’t have distinct features. This is a vivid sketch he drew of you. That means after four hundred years, you have returned to this plane of existence. 

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Hyunjin asks, pulling Chris out of his haze of thoughts. “It’s my fiancée. We’re planning to get married in the spring.”

It’s confirmed then. You have returned. Now the vampire understands why he is here. You were calling out to him, asking him to find you. That is why he is in London now. It all makes sense. He just has to find you. 

“Look at me,” Chris commands suddenly. Hyunjin glances up from where he is signing his name to make eye contact. There is a pull on the vampire’s powers as he speaks. “I am taking this piece. You will not miss it. Do you understand?”

The human nods in response. “Of course. I’d be delighted if you did.”

Chris gently tears the drawing out of the notepad before folding it in half to fit inside his coat pocket. His tone stays calm and collected despite the way there is a fire under his skin lighting up all his nerves. He needs to be alone with this discovery. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Hwang. I must take my leave now. You will contact me when you have the other deeds for me.”

“Yes, sir.” Hyunjin nods once more, still completely compliant. “I’ll send word right away.”

The sun remains tucked behind the buildings of London by the time Chris steps back out into the city. He couldn’t care about the list of properties now in his name. Nor the ring of keys jingling in his pants pocket. He should care; each is an anchor for him to travel through. When he needs to slumber or recover his power, he will have locations spread across the country.  

This also means the vampires he creates will have someone safe to go to. Unlike him, his creations cannot face the sun. The newborns are too young, unable to have the strength to embrace daylight without perishing. If he had one newborn at each of the six properties, it wouldn’t take long to find you and where you reside. He even has a starting point in knowing where Hyunjin works. 

How fortunate he is to be given this fate. 

Hyunjin’s portrait of you is heavy in his coat pocket. Ever so carefully he pulls the thin paper out to examine again now that he is alone. His eyes are not tricking him. It really is you on this paper, pretty charcoal smile and all. 

A rush of emotions hit Chris hard enough to almost buckle his knees. He remembers the day he lost you vividly. A nightmare he never escapes. He never should have left you in the castle. How foolish he was not to expect some sort of retaliation from the enemy. Even with his most trusted knights in charge of your evacuation, it wasn’t enough to keep you safe. 

The war seems so childish now. He was summoned to fight the opposers. Ottoman envoys threatened his reign again, trying to remove him from power. He wouldn’t give in easily. Not after the death of his father and brother. He avenged their deaths and would continue to squash the enemy like bugs. He was such a loyal servant to God until then. 

All he asked was for your safety.

If he were going to fight in God’s name and taint his soul with their deaths, then at least his mighty self could protect you. Then God abandoned him. 

No, after years of devotion, God betrayed him. Chris hauled himself onto the first horse he could reach when hearing word about your evacuation. The beast tried its best to sprint despite the heavy war armor not only on its body but on him as well. No whines or protests came out when he commanded the animal to cut through the woods to intercept your route. He could come from a different angle and take the enemy by surprise if the soldiers followed you. All he had to do was make it to you. Then he could defend you. The scenery was a blur; sunlight flickered through the leaves like a strobing light. Hooves of the horse barely connected with the ground before pushing off to drive further forward. Chris was certain he could make it. He had to; there was no other option. 

By the time he made it to the forest edge, he saw your horse go down. The mighty beast you raised yourself was caught in a bear trap in the snow. Poor thing landed in a heap, depositing you in the snow. Its cry was a warning to the three soldiers not too far behind you. Instead of risking their beasts, they were on their feet, swords out and stabbing the snow to disarm the hidden bear traps. This strip of land was meant for a battle the last time the army rose up. Chris never ordered the traps to be removed. He wanted it to be a safety measure if the opposing side decided to try to sneak around the castle again now that the river had frozen over. 

Currently, it is a death trap for everyone in the field. 

“Christopher!” You screamed out, your voice distraught and breathless not only from exhaustion but also from fear. 

“Stay by Berry!” he bellowed out in response. “I will come to you!”

Chris commanded his horse forward. A scapegoat, one to no doubt share the same fate as your horse. An unfortunate causality if it came to it. He didn’t care; all that mattered was getting to you. The soldiers moved quicker in response, knowing their chance to assassinate you was slipping out of their fingers. 

By some miracle the horse under him made it nearly to you. Chris let gravity take him to the ground when he was sent flying from the saddle. The armor on his body would protect him; he had no fear of the traps. He simply rolled until he found his footing. He drew his sword next and charged forward. 

Steel collided with steel as Chris reached one soldier. Despite how tired he was, the new wave of adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him moving. He had years of combat under his belt. Hell, this was the second war he fought in. Many of the soldiers lack the training to tackle the challenge he is. Enemies spoke of him as a dragon, powerful in his destruction and swift too.

It was not his life on the line; it was yours. Chris pushed through the fatigue to kill the first soldier. He barely had time to breathe before another was on him. His heartbeat pounded in his ribcage and in his ears. It was deafening to the point that he couldn’t even hear his own screams. 

Though he still wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t strong enough. By the time he killed the second soldier, the final one was making his way to you. Chris couldn’t cross the snow any faster. You didn’t even scream. You fought with all of your being, the same when you practiced with Chris for months. Your only line of defense was the blade in your hand, but it wasn’t sufficient. 

Time froze when Chris saw the blade drive into your stomach. The world narrowed to a single point of your frame folding toward the snow, your breath catching in shock. He reached you just as the soldier raised his weapon again. Chris didn’t think; he moved. He swung his sword with all of his might, driving his own sword across the man’s neck and taking his head clean off. He didn’t care for the spasming body, too busy kicking it aside to catch as you knelt. Blood was seeping out of your wound, turning your beautiful gown a dark shade of red. 

“No!” The word tore out of him, raw and shaking. One hand pulled you close; the other pressed against your wound. Chris knew it was fruitless; the snow was staining red under you. Even if he could get you back to the castle, it would be too late. He continued to plead. “Stay with me. Please.”

“My king...” Your voice came out weak. You struggled to keep your eyes open. “I will find you again.”

Chris pressed his forehead against yours. “Do speak such words to me. You will survive. You must! I can’t live without you.”

Through his teary eyes, he could see the faintest of your smiles. “Promise me… you will wait for my return.”

He opened his mouth to argue, to beg, or to deny the truth, yet your body relaxed in his arms before he could say anything. Your eyes slipped shut, and you were gone. Snuffed out like a candle. The warmth was already beginning to fade. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, not you. Not you.”

Chris couldn’t move. God wouldn’t do this to his most loyal servant. Still, he prayed to the Almighty One. One hour turned into several until his soldiers discovered him frozen in place. It would take three of his strongest to separate him from your body. And even then, he reached for you as if he still believed he could bring you back. 

That was the day he renounced God. He had dedicated years to this being; he killed thousands in his name, and he swore unwavering loyalty. No more; no longer would he do what God asked. God took the only thing he prayed to be safe during the war. The only thing in this world he cared about. 

If God didn’t listen to him, why would he continue to serve? 

Rage fueled Chris. There was no exhaustion, no hunger, no thirst. The celebration of the victory didn’t reach his ears. He stormed through his recovering city on foot, still wearing his battle armor stained with blood. He marched right up the church’s steps, through the doors, until he found the one person who could answer his burning questions. The priest claimed to be a messenger for God, and then Chris would test that. 

“My wife is dead.” Chris huffed out, still fighting to be civil. “Is he not listening to our prayers today?”

“My king.” A hand found his shoulder, trying to be reassuring. “God has his reasons. It’s not our place to question his plan.” 

The calm, collected tone in response may as well be hot tar thrown onto Chris’ body. He reached for the holy man, grabbing fistfuls of his pristine white robes and hoisting him up onto his tiptoes. He could feel the panicked breath against his face. The words leaving him were venom. “Bring her back to me.”

“I cannot, my king!” The same face of fear as the soldiers he killed earlier that day looked back at him. Even this man pleads the same. “He will take good care of her.” 

“But what about me?” Chris spat out. “Have I not done everything he’s asked?”

More babbling came out, filled with excuses. Chris couldn’t accept this as his fate. He wouldn’t. His self-control snapped like a fragile twig. Using all of his anger for strength, he shoved the holy man backwards, where the mess of limbs collided with the table of lit candles. Terrified screams broke out as the fabric caught fire. 

Panicked gasps filled the room from the other priests and the soldiers that followed Chris here. He moves without deliberation, reaching for his sword to unsheathe. Chris drives the blade down through the man’s sternum, trapping the body in place as it continues to burn. This man won’t escape this fate, just like you were forced to endure yours. 

It’s then when he stares up at the statue of Christ on the wall. Despite the growing flames, Chris couldn’t feel the heat. Not even against the steel of his armor. He kept eye contact with the brown eyes, speaking bitterly. “Are you listening now? I am no longer your servant. Until you return my wife, my soul no longer belongs to you. I will wait until you make this right.” 

Chris changed that day. Not just from the grief. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t die. God turned his back on him, refusing to let him have that peace to be with you. Even falling from the castle tower, his limbs would take their time knitting themselves back together. He didn’t age and didn’t need food or water. 

He simply existed. 

Though as the years crept on, his human form shifted into a monster. Chris developed a craving for blood. His teeth grew into sharp fangs to ease the process, and he learned he would gain sustenance from the sinful act. Perhaps it was Lucifer himself answering his pleas. The only other person who understood God’s betrayal.

Fine, he would become a monster. As long as it kept him on this earth. Now here he stands, in London, the very city where you have returned to this mortal realm. 

A woman’s bright laughter rings out ahead of Chris, drawing his attention. His hand tightens around the folded sketch of your face, and he slips it back into his coat before anyone can glimpse it. He forces himself to focus on the approaching pair.

The first woman is blonde, draped in an elegant red dress that speaks of wealth and a certain carefree confidence. She’s amused by something her companion has said; her smile is wide and unrestrained. Chris barely registers her because moving beside her, moving with a grace he remembers too well, is you? 

Fate is either playing a cruel game, or his deemed punishment is over. 

You are breathtaking in an emerald gown, walking straight toward him, unaware, unguarded. He has imagined this moment for lifetimes, rehearsing it in dreams and nightmares alike, yet now that you are here, he is utterly unprepared.

He purposely moves too close, deliberately in your path, and you collide with him. You gasp softly, immediately turning toward him with an apology spilling out of you. “Oh, I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

The sound of your voice nearly turns his limbs into warm wax. 

“No, this is my fault, actually.” Chris manages to answer through disbelief at hearing your voice after all this time. He can’t think clearly. “It’s… lovely to see you again.”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “Have we met before?”

“In a dream, perhaps. I have a strange feeling we’ve known each other for a long time.”

You don’t look amused by his charm. If anything, you are wary. Sarcasm is heavy in your tone. “Well, aren’t you romantic?”

Inwardly, Chris curses himself. This is not off to a good start. There was no time to prepare. He straightens, trying to gather the remnants of his dignity. After a second, he bowed his head slightly. “Pardon me, I seem to have lost my mind and my manners. My name is Christopher Bahng, second prince of Wallachia.”

Chris reaches for your gloved hand; you don’t stop him, allowing him to bring your hand up for him to kiss. There for a second, he sees recognition on your face. What did you see? A kiss from a previous encounter? Could it be a memory from when he first met you on the day he requested your hand in marriage? It was all arranged without your consent, yet you were still so excited to meet him. 

“Well,” you say, gently withdrawing your hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Before you can step away, the blonde woman halts you with a hand on your arm. “A prince, you say? And where is Wallachia?”

“Romainia.”

“My goodness, you are so far away from home.” She answers with a bright smile. “You’re not lost, are you?”

“No, not at all. I’m purchasing a few properties here in London.”

Her eyes lit up. Chris is used to this response when women fall under his charm. “Then you should join us for dinner.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“No, it's a casual event. Besides, how can you learn more about London if you don’t experience it?” The woman looks over to you, giving you a playful nudge. It’s enough to knock the uneasy expression off your face. You offer her a weak smile, and the woman turns back to him, pleased to have your agreement. “And it’s not every day you get to dine with a real prince.”

This is almost too easy, Chris thinks to himself. Still, he plays his role perfectly with his reply. “I would be honored to join such fine company, then, Miss?”

“Lucy Westenra,” the blonde replies, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She introduces you as well, giving a modern name Chris knows he will have to force himself to remember instead of the one he whispered to you centuries ago. She gestures toward a restaurant at the corner. “We’re dining at seven. Just tell the staff you’re with the Holmwood party.”

“I will be there.” Chris offers a charming smile before turning his attention to you. His voice softens. “I look forward to dining with you and Miss Westenra tonight.”

With that, the two of you leave him on the sidewalk. You turn to give him one last look. He would give anything to know what is coursing through that mind of yours. How much do you remember, if at all? He knows he saw recognition on your face. That was real. He reassures himself that he will learn more tonight. You have returned to him, and now he can work on bringing you back into his arms.

Chris arrives at the restaurant a quarter past seven. The goal was not to appear too eager on his arrival. He wanted the party to be seated before he joined the small group to dine. A shy hostess led him through the warm, lamplit dining room to the table where he found four humans sitting. 

Lucy brightened the moment she saw him. “Lord Bahng! You found us.”

He bows slightly. “Miss Westenra, how could I refuse such a charming invitation?”

Next to Lucy, at the head of the table, appears to be Mr. Holmwood. Chris learns a second later through a handshake that his name is Arthur and is Lucy’s current partner. The human has a relaxed heart rate and a brawny arm. He appears unbothered by Lucy’s sudden new guest. Perhaps he is used to her bringing in new people. 

Chris turns his attention to you. Gone is the emerald dress, now replaced with a dark blue evening gown. You sit straight and proper with Hyunjin beside you. Chris expected some confusion from you both, but Hyunjin appears to be losing color in his face. He’s not one for mixing business and pleasure, especially when such a hefty bonus is on the line. 

From where Chris stands, he offers a nod to the young solicitor. “It’s good to see you again so soon, Mr. Hwang.”

Hyunjin blinks, startled by being spoken to. He half-rises from his chair before sinking back down. “Lord Bahng, it’s an honor to see you again. What a small world London appears to be.”

“Indeed.” Chris answers, finally taking the empty seat beside Lucy and, more importantly, directly across from you. “Who would have thought I would meet some of your friends today as well?”

Lucy wasted no time conversing. “I was just telling Arthur and Hyunjin how we ran into you today. Then I hear you are working with Hyunjin. I must say, you found the perfect man for the job.”

“He’s taking care of my affairs wonderfully.”

The words appear to be enough for Hyunjin to relax. Conversations go on as food is ordered. Chris tries to keep his attention on who is speaking to not draw focus on how long he stares at you. He is still in denial that you are here in front of him again. It wasn’t a dream or a vision. You are human, smiling and giggling with your friends. 

Though hearing about your engagement to Hyunjin troubles him. You are not meant for this boring, average human. One who is out of his depth with the business that is falling into his lap. You don’t belong in this cramped, dreadfully noisy city. You belong back home, with him, out tending your gardens. He knows you have always been happiest surrounded by nature. 

Chris is in a tough situation. He could uproot you from this life by force. It would be painful for you, but the isolation would drive you to him. On the other hand, he could compel you into submission. 

Neither of those options would sit well with him. Though he considers a third path. You fell in love with him once; surely he could do it again. The more he ponders the idea, the more he fancies it. Yes, this sounds the most rewarding for both of you. 

While Chris was deep in his thoughts, the surrounding conversation shifted to a darker subject. The humans he used for sustenance are being found. Each of the victims was drained of their blood, and the only wounds appear to be two marks on their necks. At first, the group suspects an animal, though that theory is shot down rather quickly with the eccentric history of London. 

Arthur shakes his head as he speaks. “The papers are calling it the work of a madman. A serial killer stalking the streets.”

“How tragic,” Chris says, folding his hands in his lap. His expression is unreadable. “London is a great city. However, even the greatest of cities have their darker corners.”

Lucy shivers at the comment. “It’s frightening to think someone could be out there choosing people at random.”

“Monsters often walk unnoticed,” Chris adds softly. “It is their nature.”

Hyunjin frowns at that, but before he could speak, Arthur clears his throat. He takes Lucy’s hand with a smile. “Well, enough grim topics. We were here to speak about good news.”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed pink as her excitement grew. She can’t stop the words spilling out of her. “We’re engaged!”

An excited noise leaves you, followed by you clapping your hands in delight. The announcement brings you genuine joy. Your smile is wide and just as sunny as Chris remembers. The light it brings even causes Hyunjin to gaze at you with adoration. 

A wave of bitterness taints the vampire’s mood. He doesn’t let it show when he speaks. “My sincerest congratulations. A union of hearts is a rare and precious thing.”

“We’re having a celebration in Whitby this weekend with Arthur’s family,” Lucy said. “You must come.”

If you are here for such an intimate announcement, then you are a close friend to Lucy. Plus, it appears she drags you along regardless of your wishes. If that’s true, you will be at Whitby to celebrate with her. Then the party would give him another opportunity to see you. 

Chris gave a low, thoughtful hum. “As fate would have it, I shall be in Whitby around that time. It would be discourteous to decline such hospitality.”

Arthur reaches for his glass of wine. “Thank you for appeasing my fiancée. She can be rather forward with her demands.”

Lucy’s happiness turns to a deep scowl before she smacks Arthur on the arm. “How dare you slander me like this?”

“Is it slander if it’s true?” You pipe up with a giggle.

From there, the conversation flows naturally. Chris speaks with practiced charm, weaving stories of Transylvanian landscapes, ancient customs, and curious superstitions. Lucy hung on every word like a curious child desperate for adventure. You and Hyunjin listened with polite fascination. Even Arthur, who appeared skeptical of anything foreign or unusual, seemed drawn in.

Though the longer the meal goes on, Chris realizes your struggle with the celebratory wine. Your face contorts in disgust with every small sip. The vampire fights to keep his chuckle to himself. Even in your new life, you don’t enjoy Pinot Noir. 

The next chance Chris gets, he stops the waiter to order a bottle for the table. Once it’s delivered, he makes you an offer. “Would you like to try this one?”

You freeze momentarily, surprised at Chris speaking directly to you. “Uh, this is fine. I’m just not accustomed to red wine.”

“Try this one then.” He insists, pushing a glass of the straw-colored wine towards you. “It will pair better with your dish.”

“What is it?” 

“It roughly translates to ‘royal maiden’ in English,” Chris answers you. “The grapes in this wine grow in Transylvania and Moldavia in particular. It won’t be as harsh.”

A blush creeps onto your face as the group focuses attention on you. You take a cautious sip, and your surprise is hard to hide. Chris was right; you enjoy it. He moves to pour himself a glass to hide the smugness trying to escape him. It’s not much interaction with you, yet it’s enough to have him on cloud nine. 

When the bill arrived later, Chris intercepted it with a graceful flick of his hand. “Please allow me. It is a joy to share a meal with new friends.”

Arthur protests, though weakly, too lost in the bottom of his wine glass. Hyunjin didn’t protest at all. Perhaps still too busy trying to understand how this mysterious man he was working with slipped so seamlessly into his circle. However, Lucy squeezes Chris’ arm with affection. “You are too kind to some strangers who bullied you to join us. I’m glad my intuition was right about you.”

Chris offers a courteous smile. “The pleasure, Miss Westenra, is entirely mine.”

The alcohol in her system eats up his response. Poor Arthur might have to carry her out. Though she seems coherent enough with her next words. “I’ll cover your travel costs to and from Whitby. No arguments, Lord Bahng. I’ll have Hyunjin arrange it with you the next time you meet.”

Today is a success the more Chris thinks about it. He arrived in London, completely lost, unsure why he was called here again, only to find out you have returned to Earth. Four hundred years he waited, and by chance he inserted himself into your little bubble of life.

Fate continues to work out in Chris’ favor. A letter arrived early in the morning from Lucy. An offer to join her today at a gathering to celebrate the engagement before the trip to Whitby. Nothing too extravagant. Just lunch at her home. Chris couldn’t stop himself from attending. Not now that he’s found a foot in the door with you. He needed to see you again, needed to be near you again. The few days apart ate away at him. He can’t think about anything else. 

The first memory that sprang to mind was from a few weeks after your wedding. A huge snowstorm ravaged the castle before winter began. The storm was especially bad; it left powder almost waist-high even in the courtyard. All he wanted was to spend the morning in bed or in front of the enormous fireplace. No responsibilities, just time with his wife. Though he woke to a bed that lacked your warmth.  

He pulled on his layers, and with a bit of a search, he found you arguing with a steward over the hounds. Chris couldn’t fight his smile as you debated with your full chest. Something along the lines of letting the hounds have a bit of fun. The steward looked towards his king for support but found none. Of course he would side with you; these hounds were your pride and joy. You trained each of them from the age of a pup to hunt and fight. Now all you wanted was for them to play and live life to the fullest. Overall, you wanted the animals to experience happiness. 

Perhaps that’s why Chris loves you so much. These dogs were larger than wolves; he’d seen one take down a war horse on your command. You had no fear, only confidence in their earned loyalty. You would lay your life down for these beasts. So with word from your king and a triumphant smile plastered on your face, you lead the hounds out. 

Your giggles filled the otherwise quiet castle. Then a wall of fur, followed by excited yips, barreled past Chris, nearly trampling him. A fate worth a death if it meant he could see the happiness on your face for a lifetime. You were as graceful as a newborn lamb trying to traverse the piles of snow. It didn’t matter that you were a queen in this moment. Chris continued to watch from a window, and in that moment he realized you were the secret to completing his life. 

Now as he steps out into the Westenra Gardens, he is drawn to your giggles once more. Clouds drifted slowly across the afternoon sun, softening the glow above him. The daylight was already weakening him, yet he wasn’t worried. Here, all he needed to do was pretend to be an elite socialite. Not much of a role to play when he was an expert at it. His charm came effortlessly, especially among the women. 

Chris sipped wine, working his way through the people until he managed to worm his way next to you. Today you are donned in a pretty yellow outfit. One of your fingers brushes along a row of roses. “Are you married, Christopher?”

He answers without hesitation. “Widowed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

“No. Don’t apologize.” He kept his voice even; however, the question tugged at old wounds. The sun, the memories, and your gentle curiosity were testing his composure.

“Was it an ailment?” you asked softly.

“A casualty of war,” he said. “The enemy wished to hurt me because their loss was certain.”

“Was she lovely?”

“She was the most beautiful creature.” His gaze drifted to the horizon, though he saw only the past. “I saw heaven with her. I keep a lock of her hair sealed in here.” He touched the inner pocket of his coat. “It’s always with me.”

Chris notices the admiration in your eyes. All you want is a lover who is devoted. It’s what all romantics want. Though the wine in his glass now tastes like pure vinegar. He cannot allow you to look at him in this way. The fight against his self-restraint is taking all of his energy. He shifts the subject abruptly. “I hear you are going to marry Hyunjin. Tell me about him.”

You sighed. “I worry he loves too much.”

“There’s no such thing.”

You shift the weight on your feet, still playing with the roses. “You think so? He works so hard. He overextends himself. I worry he’ll go mad from the stress.”

“He’s dedicated,” Chris replies. “He wants to give you a fulfilling life.”

“We have a fulfilling life. I want to see him more.”

That comment causes an ache in Chris. You are a human dealing with such a simple emotion. Longing, but to a smaller degree than the vampire in front of you. The very emotion he had felt for centuries. Something he could never allow himself to feel again now that he’s found you. He hates it. You shouldn’t have these emotions. Yes, it’s part of being human; however, your past life suffered. He doesn’t want you to endure any pain in this life. It’s selfish, he knows. There is so much more to life that you should be enjoying and experiencing instead of this negativity. 

Now Chris is upset it’s taken this long to find you. He reassures himself, ‘This is all temporary.’ He will take you and give you the gift of immortality. Then you can be together. He will take you anywhere you want to go. It doesn’t have to be home necessarily. It’s just going to be as far away from Hyunjin as it can be. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. “You don’t need to hear silly troubles.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, and he meant it more than he wished he did. “I’m enjoying your company. Hopefully, you don’t mind me taking the liberty of seeking you out. This country is lonely when you don’t know it.”

“It’s lonely when you know it.”

Chris hates that answer. Hyunjin might be trying his best to provide a good life for you, but he’s not successful. The sadness in your voice stings worse than a blade carving out his side. His fingers drum against the fragile glass in his hands as his anger bubbles inside of him. 

The clouds thickened overhead, dimming the sun further. Chris felt the shift immediately. His strength was returning in a slow, dangerous trickle. He straightened unconsciously. He needed to be careful. Restraint and control, he mentally repeats. As much as he wants to act, there are too many witnesses here. 

“Oh, blast.” A surprised gasp from you draws the vampire’s attention. When you reached out to steady a rose, a thorn pricked your finger. From where he stands, he can see a bead of blood forming right on the tip of your finger.

Chris reacts before thinking, moving faster than a man should, far too eager, and producing a handkerchief. He caught your hand, covering the wound before more blood could seep out. However, even just a drop carried the smell to his nose. The scent was a strike to the chest. That one little droplet was luring the beast inside him in.

His grip tightened. He needed to control himself. You were the last person he wanted to harm. Perhaps it was the sun’s doing; it was draining him quicker than he was used to. His nostrils flared despite his will. The hunger surged. An instinctive piece of him, still humiliating, though. He forced his jaw to lock, though his fingers betrayed him again, tightening around your delicate hand.

“Christopher,” you winced. “You’re hurting me.”

Your voice was a lighthouse in a storm, cutting through the haze. Shame flooded him, dousing him in freezing-cold water to shake him from the stupor he was in. 

“I’m stopping the blood,” he said too sharply. He hated the edge in his tone. Gentle; be gentle, he reminded himself. He tried to loosen his grip, truly. The instinct to hold you, to keep the blood near, fought him like an ingrained reflex.

She must not fear you. Not her. Never.

You tugged your hand back. “It’s only a scratch. Really.”

Chris released you instantly, stepping back as though distance alone could cage the hunger. He swallowed hard, forcing breath into lungs that did not need it, forcing the monster inside him to heel. He is stronger than this, and he is better than this. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

No, he should be apologizing. He needs to beg for forgiveness for that lapse. Anything; he could say anything to help defuse the situation. 

He doesn’t get the chance. Before he could vocalize any type of excuse, Hyunjin’s voice came from across the yard. You turn toward him, relief and affection brightening your face. Chris remains glued to his spot, watching you go to him, seeking that solace away from him.

The glass of wine in his hand shatters a second later, causing the pieces of glass and drink to spill into the roses at his feet. His other hand still held onto the handkerchief, your blood staining the white cloth and still calling out to the monster side of him. 

Chris needs to leave. He needs to leave now. The chains holding his restraints are starting to break from the pressure. It takes all of his might to weave through the crowds to make it back to his carriage. He needs a moment alone. Just one moment. 

The handkerchief may as well be a brick in his hand. He can still smell your blood thanks to his heightened senses. It’s intoxicating and mouthwatering. An opium haze couldn’t make him this delirious. 

The vampire’s strength causes the carriage’s door hinges to screech. The force of the slam damaged a pane in the glass window. A small price to pay, he thinks to himself. He nearly dives into the darkness of the carriage to be free of the sun and finally has that moment of privacy.

His eyes stay trained on the opening, weary of the humans on the property, while he caves to temptation. He brings the bloody fabric to his mouth and sucks to pick up the remnants that he can. Your blood is honey on his tongue. A sweetness that rips an involuntary moan out of him and drives his eyes to roll back. 

Shame burns under his skin as he sucks on the fabric, chasing more of the taste of you. He needs more. Fresh on his tongue so he can taste it correctly. It wouldn’t take much; he would never drain you like the humans he uses for sustenance. Just enough to tame the beast in him. 

Damn his attraction to you. Even the monster wants you. 

Is it even the blood he wants?

No, Chris knows the answer to that. Images of your naked body flood him. He groans at how quickly his cock fills out in his pants. There hasn’t been anyone over the years. No one to touch or love. He couldn’t bring himself to if it wasn’t you. 

He works with minimal struggle to free his cock. His hand strokes himself to alleviate the ache. The handkerchief is still in his mouth as he holds onto the remaining taste of you. What a pathetic sight he would be; he wonders if you would scold him. He misses the days he desired you so desperately and you would play with him like a toy. He would obey every command you demanded if it meant he could have you. 

Movement from the second floor of the house catches his eye. There, sneaking out onto the balcony, are you and Hyunjin? That damn yellow dress is flattering on you. The swell of your breasts only tempts Chris more. He wants nothing more than to rip it off of you and see you in all your beauty.

Hyunjin appears to think the same. The human kisses you messily, as if he were being rushed. The wine in Chris’ stomach sours at the sight of how enthusiastic you are. Though his hand still moves along his cock. From where he sits, he can see one of Hyunjin’s hands sneaking under your dress between your thighs. Your head falls back against the wall as pleasure takes its course. He shouldn’t be watching, and he definitely shouldn’t be getting off to the view. Yet he physically can’t stop himself. This is a battle he will lose as you come around someone else’s fingers. 

This will be his one moment of weakness. No one will know about it. Then he will sit and plan his next move. He can not continue this idle waiting around. Thankfully, the blood you gave him will help. It may have been a few drops, but it’s enough. He can now sense you and track you as you move throughout the country, and most importantly, his powers will affect you. Possibly, if he’s lucky, he can awaken your memories, and that will help him win you over.

As night crept through London, Chris rose with an ache in his chest. His dreams were playing with him. No, his subconscious was teasing him. It must be from the small amount of your blood he consumed. The entire time, his memories of you danced through his vision. From cute, harmless, loving moments to even heated nights in the bedroom. It was a hurricane of emotions he was struggling to navigate. 

Now he is on the streets, trying to find a meal to regain his strength. The time spent in the sun to see you made him exceptionally weak. Once he feeds tonight, he can check in on you. He doesn’t need creatures to find you. He can do it himself and then satisfy the craving of seeing you. 

Normally, Chris is mindful when he feeds. Humans are easy to hypnotize; it’s child’s play as he lures his victim down an alleyway. A palm of his is spread widely over the human’s mouth to keep quiet while fangs sink into their neck. 

Tonight is different. 

Tonight he pretends it’s Hyunjin he’s feeding from. 

This human fights back. Blunt teeth dig into the meat of his hand in protest. It’s not enough to break the skin or even deter him. Hands flail, nails scrape along the fabric of his jacket, and the body squirms. The human is no match for Chris. A rush of power courses through his body as he bites harder into the thin skin of the neck, straight into the artery. The pressure splatters warm blood against his face and clothes. 

The monster inside him could almost purr like a satisfied cat. 

A voice comes from the end of the alleyway. “Hey! Let go of them!”

Chris pulls back, allowing the neck wound to spurt warm blood onto the vampire and his clothes. The human who interfered now panics, eyes wide as it takes in the view and gasping like a fish out of water. The second they bolt, Chris is on them. He moves faster and wraps himself like a snake securing its prey. Not even a scream escapes before his fangs sink into any inch of exposed skin. More delicious blood floods his mouth as he drags the human deeper into the alleyway. 

Three humans end up dying tonight. Chris is careful with the third. He needs an exchange of clothes if he wishes to walk among the people without suspicion. However, the surplus of blood coursing through his system is a lot to process. His body fights to adjust, and he knows what he needs to do. 

You are a needle in a haystack that is London. 

He needs to focus and find you. 

His love, his beautiful princess, and his wife. He can’t go home until he finds where you live. Deep down, the pull is there. He can feel it tonight. It’s the same call that brought him to London. The invisible thread that connects you is finally visible. 

A spin on his heel, and then the vampire runs. 

It’s not a long journey. He was right about your residence being close to Hyunjin’s work. Chris knows it’s a risk to come here. Dawn arrives early, increasing the likelihood of being spotted, but he can’t resist your allure. 

The intent was to go to slumber after he fed.

Now here he stands outside your residence, staring at the open window on the second floor as if it taunts him. The half-drawn curtains are shifting like waves as the light breeze hits. Even from here, he can smell the familiar perfume you wore earlier today. It’s comforting and making it harder for him to fight his will. He will slip in just to make sure you are sleeping well, and then he will leave. That way he appeases his desires while managing his ongoing battle of restraint. 

Except for the moon shining through the window, the bedroom is completely dark. Chris stands to the side, hidden by the curtains, to assess the bedroom. The air was thick with the hush of sleep, broken only by the rhythmic breathing from Hyunjin. He lies sprawled beside you, oblivious to the threat of the vampire’s presence. 

This was perfect. Chris moves like a ghost, silently coming closer without a creak or groan from the floorboards below his feet. His predatory, razor-sharp eyes instantly focused on the bed where you were lying. Your cheeks are slightly flushed, and your chest rises and falls in erratic waves. Chris’ lips curl up into a knowing smirk as he approaches your side of the bed. Even from here, he could sense the heat radiating from you, the subtle scent of your arousal mingling with the florals of your sheets. Leaning closer, he inhales deeply, his gaze tracing the way your body betrays your secret fantasies. Hyunjin still snores softly, unmoving, lost to his exhaustion. The vampire sinks to his knees and positions himself near your face. His icy fingers hovered inches from your warm skin. Your eyes move behind your lids, your lips parting in another hushed gasp from the dream. His voice comes out a gentle whisper that he lets seep into your subconscious. “My beautiful bride, what are you dreaming about so passionately? And why is it not me?” His fingers curl around the edge of the blanket and ever so softly pull the bedding down to your knees, revealing the cotton nightgown you wear. The fabric has gone sheer over the years, showing off the way your body shivers with the cold air against your flushed skin. Your thighs press tightly together, almost in an attempt to alleviate an ache between them. His eyes continue to scan back up, watching the way your nipples harden to little buds, almost begging for his mouth. “Tell me, what pleasures consume you?”

You stir slightly, brows furrowing as if his words tugged at the edges of your sleep. Mercifully, you didn’t wake. Chris’ eyes gleam with dark intent. Just the details. He needs to know the details, and then he will leave. Right through the window he came in, and then he could sneak back underground, where he could plan his next move. He extended his will, tapping into his powers, weaving himself into the very fabric of your dream. The barriers of your subconscious didn’t fight, letting him slip past like a fog slowly moving in around you. There, right in front of him, was the same bedroom. This time, lit by several candles. You lie where you are now, only with parted thighs and the same nightgown bunched at your hips. A scowl finds its way onto the vampire’s face. It’s Hyunjin who is here as well in this dream. He rests between your legs, hands roaming over your soft thighs. There is a smile plastered on his face before shifting lower to press a kiss to your pussy. His tongue slips out a second later, lapping greedily at your slick folds. Your body arches, fingers tangling in his long black locks to keep him in place. He groans against your pussy, bringing his lips up to your clit to suck, earning him moans that only echo in your mind. 

Back in the waking world, your legs shifted again, this time more desperately. A soft whimper escaped your lips. A sharp pain jabs Chris in the stomach; he couldn’t watch this scene any longer. He couldn’t let you succumb to this siren’s call. Hyunjin was nothing and certainly not your lover. He would have to remind you of how things were. The pleasure he brought you outmatched any man. In your dream, the scene shifts. Hyunjin’s form blurs at the edges as Chris lets his influence take hold. You feel an icy hand turn your face to the left. It’s not Hyunjin in your line of sight; this time it’s Chris. His gaze is hypnotic, beckoning your attention. You can’t pull away or resist; only watch as he leans closer to connect his lips with yours. It’s a demanding kiss; his tongue slips past your lips to invade your mouth. It’s so possessive, forcing you to taste the lingering iron on his tongue from his victims tonight. This isn’t right, yet you still melt into the kiss despite the confusion running through your thoughts. 

“You should be dreaming of me,” Chris commands in your mind. “I am the only one who can fulfill your deepest cravings.”

The bedroom shifts around you, changing to an entirely different place. Chris reshapes the dream into the room he used to share with you back home. The sheets are different, as is the plushness of the mattress, and even the candlelight changes to the gigantic fireplace in the room. Hyunjin has faded completely now, replaced by Chris’ figure. Broad shoulders and a pale, sculpted chest loom over you. Chris takes his time, plush lips placing soft kisses along one of your collarbones inwards to your sternum. He doesn’t stop, continuing between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach.

Your back arches off the bed when his hands connect to your hips. His palms aren’t as soft as Hyunjin’s. Years of fighting wars have made the skin tougher; it’s not as delicate and holds more scars. The rings on his fingers feel cool against your flushed skin as he trails them down to your thighs to part your legs. Your breathing hitches in the dream as your hips lift instinctively to invite him. He settles between your thighs, not wasting time. His mouth is inches from your pussy. He maintains his eye contact as his tongue runs along the wet slit, savoring the taste for himself. “You taste the same.” He says with a throaty moan. “Do you remember how I’d spend hours here? Right between these thighs. You’d scream so loud. I’d walk past the maids, and every one of them clenched their thighs tight, silently begging to be you.”

You silently shook your head, perhaps to say no or to ask him to stop. However, no words came out of your mouth. Not when you are too distracted by the way he licks across your hole, savoring the wetness that leaks out of you. His muscular arms wrap around your thighs, keeping you from moving away. He wants you closer so he can slip his tongue inside you, his nose brushing against your clit. Faintly, a memory flickers. It’s quick, splicing between your dream and itself. It’s you, with Chris in the same position, but this time your hands are tangled in the mess of brown curls on top of his head, holding him in place as you grind yourself against him. You are in complete control, using him selfishly for your pleasure. You taunt him, demanding he make you come, and he simply moans against you, loving the way he is your servant. The prince himself, the soon-to-be king of this castle you are in. He is reduced to nothing more than a royal’s whore, and he would be pleased to die here. 

In the real world, your body mirrored the fantasy. Your thighs clenched tight as wetness soaked through the nightgown and down to the sheets. Chris remained kneeling by your side, his physical form watching with satisfaction as your chest heaved. Your face twisted in the building ecstasy. He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. He whispers, his voice laced with dark amusement. “You might not remember my touch, beloved. But your body doesn’t lie. It knows and craves it even now.”

As your dream peaked, waves of pleasure crashed through you in the vision of his unrelenting mouth. Chris withdrew his influence just enough to let you teeter on the edge. He wanted the echo of his presence to linger in your veins long after the night faded. His teeth ache as he fights the urge to ravish you, have you fully, and come on his cock. It would be effortless; he could take you now, right next to Hyunjin. He wouldn’t stop until all your tension melted away, and you felt spineless.

Though he shall wait. He’s influenced enough tonight. This should tip the odds in his favor. You remembered him. Somewhere deep in that brain lies all of your past life. He just needs to find the right keys to free the memories. His plan is working. Tomorrow he will see you again, and he will awaken you. His one and only love, his stunning bride, will soon be back in his arms.

There is a flourishing market in Whitby. The town is not as bustling as London, though Chris enjoys the lack of chaos. He finds himself people-watching and relishing being in the same space. Even the monster in him is quiet for the time being. 

Though when Chris turns the corner, a hint of familiar florals catches his attention. There, at the cafe across the street, sits a face he’s excited to see. He was right about Lucy dragging you to Whitby as well. However, from where he stands, he only notices one cup of tea at the table where you sit. You are alone. 

Chris crosses the empty street, a smirk on his face. “I wasn’t expecting a familiar face until tonight.”

You look up from your book, and your face flushes at the sight of him in front of you. Are flashbacks of your dream playing in your mind right now? Are you recalling how vivid it was? How good it felt to have your husband rather than that excuse of a man between your legs. You must be judging by the way you shift to press your thighs together. Chris fights to keep his composure. He has to refrain from speaking about it. 

He comments on your lack of greeting. “Have I done something to upset you?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head while closing your book. “I’m sorry. It’s just warm, and I was lost in my book.”

“It’s quite alright; we all love an adventure.” Chris motions to the empty seat across from you. “May I join you?”

You nod, using the moment to take a sip of your drink to help calm yourself. Chris can hear the way your heart skips a beat. Your gaze never meets his. It’s not fear per se; maybe it’s confusion. There is an unease to your behavior, a subtle way you are shrinking to appear smaller. Perhaps the dreams plus your last interaction are causing this. 

Chris speaks to make amends if that is the case. “I’m glad I found you. I wanted to apologize for how I acted in the garden with you. You see, I don’t react well to blood, so I panic even if I don’t need to.”

“Oh,” you say with slight confusion before remembering. “It’s no big deal. I had already forgotten about it. Lucy is the same way, so I understand.”

Then it is the dreams that are causing this battle for you? Is that pure little soul of yours challenged with feeling something for a different man? Chris hopes this is the case. The bond of affection is stronger between two lovers, and that beautiful dream showed off how your body knew him. No, your body longed to be touched so intimately by him after all these years. Now it’s just your mind trying to catch up. 

“Christopher, may I ask you an absurd question?”

It’s so curious how the people around him call him with proper titles, but you don’t. Maybe old habits endure a lifetime. Chris offers a small smile. “Go ahead.”

“Do you ever think you are in the wrong lifetime?”

“What do you mean?”

“My whole life has been filled with flashes. Images of a different time. The pull is overwhelming.”

You feel the bond. It’s confirmed and not one-sided. Chris is on the right path, then. He just needs to give you enough to awaken more of your memories. That’s all it would take to bring you back into his arms. He doesn’t have to use force. He can achieve your love how he wants to. 

Chris reaches over to place a hand over yours; it’s gentle and cautious to leave enough room for you to pull away. He is being bold here. Especially if Lucy or Hyunjin is nearby and could ruin this moment. You are in such a fragile state of confusion; he needs to try to guide you in the right direction. He speaks calmly. “Perhaps it’s a past life trying to communicate with you. I think you should embrace the visions. Let them tell you the story they’re desperately trying to show you.”

For the first time in this meeting, you make direct eye contact. Chris watches the way your pupils are searching his. Are you searching for lies? Trust? You sit up straighter, still not moving your hand away. “Why did you seek me out? Be honest.”

Chris can never lie to you. He does what you ask. “You look so much like my wife. It’s hard not to be around you. Though I’m trying to be respectful.”

“I’m not your wife.” You mumble. 

“Are you convincing me or yourself?”

Silence falls between you guys. The tension is thick, similar to the fog that moves in when a storm comes in. You are fighting the connection, the pull drawing you to him. It could be because of Hyunjin. Chris doesn’t doubt you have true feelings for this man. He is just not who you are intended to be with. It will take time to break you of his charm. Though the vampire is confident in his progress. 

Your hand pulls away at the sound of an familiar voice joining the table. “Lord Bahng! You made it to Whitby!”

“Of course, Miss Westenra.” Chris answers, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. “I couldn’t waste your generosity.”

“So you will show up tonight then?”

“I will be in attendance.” Chris rises from his seat to offer it to the human. “Though please sit. I need to take my leave.”

“I’ll grab another chair. You should stay.”

“With sadness, I regretfully decline.” Chris slightly bows. “I was on my way to an appointment with a merchant, and I was simply saying a greeting in passing. I will see both of you beautiful ladies tonight.”

Lucy takes the offered seat, a playful scowl on her face. “You are off the hook for now. Though tonight you will keep us company.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Westenra, you can show off this prince all you wish tonight.” Chris doesn’t miss the way you roll your eyes. Still, you stare at your best friend with fondness as she expresses her giddiness. When the time comes to it, separating you will be a challenge. A thought he will sit on as he takes his leave. He hasn’t thought about bringing two women back to the castle. She is your favorite companion; maybe he should. 

So many thoughts run through the vampire’s mind. 

It’s just a matter of what will he do?

As more guests arrived tonight, you finally escaped the confines of being chained next to Lucy. The woman of the hour was accepting words about her engagement, and it was the perfect opportunity to speak to you alone. Chris found you in the study across the house. It was quiet over here; the music from the party was faint, almost outshined by the cackling of the wood in the fireplace. Your glass of champagne was empty, resting on a table while you stood by a window, observing the grounds. “How exhausting it must be to be the best friend.” Chris said, his voice low, almost amused.

“Lucy has the energy of ten racehorses,” you reply, still focused on the view. “I’m surprised you showed up. You hardly seem the sort for engagement parties.”

“No,” he agreed. “However, I find myself drawn to a certain company.”

You turn then, and there is a dusting of warmth along your cheeks. The alcohol Lucy forced on you appears to be working through your system. Though he wouldn’t lie, Chris hoped his words were the real reason you were flushed. 

You didn’t comment on his attempt to flirt. Instead, you redirect. “Forgive me for asking, but I’m curious. What did you buy at the market today?”

A faint smile appeared, more fond than his typical friendly mask he wore in front of the humans. “A memory. Or rather, a piece of one.”

He crossed the room with unhurried ease, pulling out a small case from his jacket and placing it upon the table next to your glass. “There was a song,” he continued, almost absently as he opened it. “My wife was fond of it. It played often in the halls of our home.” Carefully and respectfully, he ran his fingers over the old phonograph cylinder. “I came across it again today. I could not leave it behind.”

“A song?” you asked, quieter but still curious.

“Would you like to hear it?”

You hesitated only a moment. “Yes.”

Chris moved over to the phonograph in the room and carefully inserted the cylinder. The horn crackled faintly as he set it in motion. A melody came out that was hauntingly beautiful. The vampire pivoted to observe your reaction. 

“I know this.” You murmur to yourself. Your eyebrows drew together as you pondered. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. Chris continued to watch you, taking in every flash of recognition. “Do not think. Truly listen.”

There was hesitancy from you. You didn’t trust him. Still, you obeyed. For the first time since he met you in London, he felt a surge of optimism. Would this music be the missing piece? Could this moment be the key that finally unlocks your memories? 

The vampire tapped into his powers. He wanted to see what images appeared behind your eyelids. Perhaps he could even supply the memories if it were needed. 

You were no longer in the sitting room. Images blurred until the castle manifested in your memory. There were stones beneath your feet, cool and worn smooth by the centuries. The air was richer with a hint of roses that you had picked in the morning. Then there was laughter. It was your laughter, echoing around the castle as you danced to the music. Chris could see you spinning. 

Dancing.

He was there, watching from the corner as if you were the only other person in this world. One of his fondest memories. That was the moment when he realized you were his happiness. His entire world was unconsciously swaying to the rhythm, allowing her skirts to glide across the floor. The look of genuine joy on your face made his heart flutter. The next chance that opened, Chris stepped forward to draw you close to him, allowing himself to forget all of his troubles. 

The setting shifted. Now a bright sunny day is over your garden. You sat in the middle, fingers weaving flowers into a crown. His voice was quieter there and indulgent as he allowed you to place it upon his head. You looked so satisfied that a king would humor you. Again, the scene changed. This time snow is falling beyond the tall windows. You sat watching the hounds be released in the courtyard. The dogs were bounding through the fresh powder as they played. You laughed again, amused at their innocence. When you turned your head, Chris was beside you; your breath caught in that moment, right before a kiss.

Your eyes flew open, pulling Chris out of your mental vision. He didn’t even realize he crossed the room to you. There was barely any space between you two now. You let out a small gasp in surprise.

“What did you see?” he asked, his voice an urgent whisper. “Did you see the gardens you used to run through?” His gaze searched yours. He needed to hear it from your lips. Just some kind of confirmation that you remember. “How about the rooftop where you would name the stars for me? Or are the hounds playing in the snow because you know how much they love it?”

“I didn’t see anything,” you said quickly, stepping back. The spike in your heart rate betrayed you. “It was just music.”

“Look me in the eye if you’re going to lie.”

You held his gaze. There was a war battling inside you. Lying was never a strong suit for you. This was evident not only in your previous life but also in the current one. Chris received the confirmation he wanted when you finally admitted it. “The garden. I saw the garden.”

A small, triumphant smile threatened to curl his lips up. “What else?”

“I made you a flower crown.” You said, stepping closer to him. “You pretended to hate it.”

“I did not pretend,” he whispered. “I despised it. You were always putting flowers in my hair.”

“You wore it anyway.”

“For you, my beloved wife.” 

Silence filled the room, and even though he didn’t require air to breathe, the tension was suffocating. There were eggshells under the vampire’s feet. You were in such a fragile state. The scales were tipping in his favor. You just needed gentle guidance from him. “What else did you see?” Your breath trembled when you spoke. “You kissed me.”

“Think harder on that memory,” Chris suggests. “Did I kiss you?”

“No, I kissed you.”

He waited, curious to see your next move. You stepped forward again; the space between you was gone. Your racing heart was beating against his chest cavity. This was of your own free will. He didn’t compel you. Your hand raised, cupping his cheek with the same gentleness he remembered. He leaned into it before he could stop himself.

Centuries. 

Four centuries he waited for this. It wasn’t a trick. It wasn’t God finding another way to hurt him. You were here, alive and well, touching him as if no time had passed. His one true love finally came back to him. He endured so much suffering. All he had to do was make you his again. Surely it would happen; you have now seen the truth. 

What he didn’t expect after your hand pulled away was the kiss. You slotted your lips against his with no hesitation. This was a kiss of confidence, not some new discovery. He let you take control as he always did, your tongue slipping past his lips to explore and mingle until you needed air. He only gave you a breath before he was on you. This time, his kiss was aggressive; he could no longer hold himself back. His hands came to your face, steadying you before prodding your lips with his tongue. Similar to him, you gave him permission immediately. A rush of emotions hit him. There would be no way to express everything he went through. He didn’t have the words, but he hoped this kiss explained it. His grief, the pain, and his love over the centuries were bundled up to form hope. Now he was exposed like a wound to you, the only person in the world whom he could be vulnerable to. Then something inside you snapped.

Chris could feel the confusion twisting his face as the sound of your panicked breaths filled the room. You continued to step back, putting more space between you as if it could undo what just occurred. “No,” you said, more to yourself than to him. “No, this isn’t right.”

“Beloved…”

“I love Hyunjin.” You cut him off. Every word came out firm as a shield to protect you. “He is my fiancé, and I am going to marry him.” Chris didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t dare touch you. It would upset you more. You shook your head. “Christopher, you cannot… Whatever this trickery is… These visions. You cannot do this to me.”

His gaze darkened, upset at such an accusation. Through all that concentration on his restraint, he doesn’t hold back his words. “I have done nothing that was not already within you.”

“That isn’t true.”

“Isn’t it?” he pressed, taking one step forward. “You felt it and you remembered. You kissed me.”

“I made a mistake,” you said sharply, though your voice wavered. “And it won’t happen again.”

Silence settled again as the music from the phonograph died out. Chris’ jaw tightened as frustration blossomed inside the vampire. He never wanted to force you. This damn human was blocking your love. He had waited centuries. He had endured loss, loneliness, and the hollow ache of immortality. And now, as you finally stood before him again, you were slipping through his fingers.

“You are running from the truth,” he mumbled.

“And you are trying to rewrite mine!” You shout back, your voice cracking while tears fall from your eyes. You moved past him, stumbling toward the doorway as if you couldn’t get away fast enough. “Stay away from me, Christopher. Do you hear me? Stay away.”

He didn’t move. For a brief second he saw remorse on your face. Could you see how cruel your words were? The burning of his longing was now sharper, right through his undead heart. Instead of comforting him, you fled before he could say another word. Chris wasn’t sure how much longer this cat-and-mouse chase could go on. Four hundred years weighed heavily on his shoulders. And now, with the sensation of your kiss lingering on his lips, he is being driven to his limit.

Chris remained on the balcony long after you left, trying to settle the war of emotions inside him. He couldn’t return to the party in this state. He would kill everyone in the room. So he waits, as he always has, letting the storm inside him settle. The music from the party still seemed to cling to his ears despite the distance. Partygoers are rowdier now it’s longer into the night. Alcohol continues to be served, filling their bellies with a warmth that soothed all their worries. 

From where he stands, his chest aches where his heart once was. These humans are living their lives, joyful and content. No doubt you have probably joined them, hanging off Hyunjin’s arm like a gorgeous jewel he doesn’t deserve. It’s not fair, he thinks to himself. He knows you remember; there was recognition in your eyes. You even kissed him, yet you still fight and deny him. Both of his fists clench where they rest on the railing, nails digging so deep into his palms they draw blood. You won’t even entertain the idea, as if you were too scared that he might be right. What was so horrible in a man’s devotion? To no one’s surprise, Chris hears a racing heartbeat making its way down to him. It’s Hyunjin, based on the shaky breath before he steps further into the study. Of course, Hyunjin is your knight in shiny armor, here to fight for you. Rightfully so, you left with tears running down your cheeks. It’s what any respectful man would do for his fiancée. What a fucking nuisance he’s turning out to be. Hyunjin’s death would destroy you, and Chris would rather not inflict anymore pain on you. No, he wants to bring you back into his arms, where you belong, and give you nothing but happiness to make up for the lost time. Though this human, this human man, is in his way. And Chris is running out of patience. The glass door opens behind him; Chris refuses to acknowledge the human. He must rein in these emotions before something drastic happens. He’s waited four hundred years; a little more time won’t hurt anyone. So he focuses on the city view, taking in the stars and bustling nightlife as if it were his kingdom. 

“Lord Bahng,” Hyunjin said, steady but tight. “We need to speak.”

There is a brief pause between them. Then Chris turns slowly, his expression far too composed. Not a hint of anger on his face. “Mr. Hwang,” he replies smoothly. “I wondered how long it would take.”

Hyunjin ignored the tone. “You made my fiancée uncomfortable tonight.”

The vampire’s eyes flicker something dangerous at the mere mention of you. Hyunjin is walking on paper-thin ice, poised to break under even the slightest pressure. The world will engulf him entirely. He doesn’t even know the wolf’s den he’s walked into. This pathetic little bunny, plopping himself in the beast’s mouth.

“You lingered too close,” Hyunjin continued, bottom lip trembling. He’s not one for confrontation. This poor lover is trying to find his backbone. Both of his hands were trembling from the nerves coursing through him. His voice fares no better despite his struggle to appear collected. “The way you spoke to her… she didn’t like it. I’m asking you, respectfully, please stay away from her.”

Tick, tick, tick. The heart rate spiked faster again as the silence stretched between them. Chris can see it beat under his clothes, through his skin. Blood pumping faster and faster, even the best orchestra would struggle to perform with such a beat. It’s deafening on this balcony, completely blocking out the party down the hall. The solution to all his problems is calling out to him; the vampire just needs to make a move. Chris tilts his head slightly, studying Hyunjin. Not as a man studies another in the stakes of a fight, but as a predator measures its prey. He repeats Hyunjin’s words in a question. “Stay away?” 

Hyunjin held his ground. “Yes.”

A faint smile curved Chris’ lips, though it did not reach his eyes. His reply comes out softer, a murmur. “How curious? That you would presume to place yourself between us.”

“There is no us,” Hyunjin shot back. “She is not yours.”

There it is, the impressive sound of the ice shattering beneath Hyunjin’s feet. Completely unaware of the danger he’s in. He can’t go back to shore, and no one can help him; he can only try not to drown. Can this human swim? He can’t fight a wolf. Not this pathetic excuse of a man. 

The air shifts around them; the clear night sky is no more as clouds move in. Chris can’t stop his powers. His rage is finding an outlet the safest way it can. It’s chaos behind him; he can feel the static from the lightning ready to strike Hyunjin down. Thunder crashes loudly, a strength that shakes the building’s foundation. Chris moves then, not quickly, still maintaining a deliberate grace that makes Hyunjin’s pulse spike again despite himself.

“You speak as though you understand her,” Chris says, his voice low and controlled. A hint of a tremble at the edges. “As though you have earned the right.”

“I care about her,” Hyunjin said. “And I won’t let anyone…”

“I appreciate you looking out for her,” Chris interrupts, the words suddenly sharp, his restraint cracking, “keeping her safe until I found her.”

Confusion finds its way on Hyunjin’s face. He has no time to react more than that, though. Chris was in front of Hyunjin in an instant. The human flinched at such a movement. It was so swift, far too quick for a man. He blinked and felt a strike on his chest, driving him back against the wall. The remaining breath left Hyunjin in a rush as stiff fingers closed around his collar.

“Do you think this gesture is a showing of kindness to me?” Chris hisses, his composure gone now, his emotions raw and furious rising in its place. “To keep her from me? To stand where I have endured four hundred years of longing to be again. Where I have waited...?”

Hyunjin struggled, clawing at Chris’ wrist. He couldn’t free himself. It was impossible. He would need the strength of a hundred men to pry this iron grip apart. Air was struggling to find his lungs. He choked out his words. “She’s not something you can claim!”

Chris’ eyes burned with a wildfire consuming a forest. There was hurt, rage, and something animalistic twisting together. His voice was breaking, shifting to something feral and desperate. A rabid dog ready to kill. “You have touched her life so easily. While I…?”

His words came to a halt. There was a snap in Chris. Hyunjin witnessed it occurred. It wasn’t in a metaphorical sense, but here in real life, in front of him. A thread that had been pulled too tight and was finally breaking. The grip shifted. His face dipped closer, and in the crack of vivid lightning, Hyunjin saw that this person in front of him was no man. He was a creature. Fully elongated fangs peeking past his lips. For a brief, terrible second, Hyunjin saw the rage change to hunger.

“While I have been denied.” Chris finished, barely above a whisper.

The bite was sudden. A sharp, violent, searing pain in Hyunjin’s throat. He had no air left to cry out for help. His body tensed, hands clawing at the creature’s shoulders. The strength holding him there was unyielding. He would die here; he was sure of it. There would be no way to stop the inevitable or to prevent Chris from finding you. Tears burned his lash line as his mind lingered on the cruel image of you dead at his feet, blood staining your clothes and your neck shredded by this monster. 

This endless, dreadful moment continued on. The sound of the vampire swallowing his life force was all that remained of the world around them. Hyunjin could feel death coming for him. It was ice cold, starting at his extremities and drifting its way up to where his blood was exiting him. 

Then, just as abruptly as he attacked, Chris pulls away. Hyunjin collapses forward, falling to his knees, his breath ragged. One hand clamps onto his neck as if it could stop the remaining blood from leaving him. He doesn’t have much blood left.

Chris stepped away, chest rising and falling. Not from effort, but from something far more erratic. Hyunjin recognized remorse briefly flashing across his face. After that, it vanished. As he spoke, the fangs affected his voice. “After tonight, she is no longer yours. You may believe you are protecting her, but tonight you will be reborn.” His gaze dropped briefly to the mark on Hyunjin’s throat. “I will remake you like God does with his creations. She won’t have you once she sees what I will make you do.”

Hyunjin didn’t answer. He couldn’t. One slow blink, then another. His vision blurred as his mind swam around, lost in the depths of worry. There was no fight when Chris approached him again. No resistance when his mouth was pried open. There was a metallic taste on his tongue flowing down his throat. Hyunjin couldn’t stop it, couldn’t prevent whatever this vampire was planning. All he could do was accept as he mentally prayed for his God to protect you from this evil.

Every vampire Chris makes is tied to him. A dog on a leash. An ant in a colony. One that he can control and use as a tool for his agenda. Hyunjin is no exception; he is a pawn that will be the force that drives you into Chris’ arms. The newborn’s disappearance from the engagement party in fact benefited Chris. A few of the men invited left with Arthur to head down the road to the pub. There was some debate regarding the men’s celebration of the engagement and a woman’s right to gossip. In the sunroom, which was still warm from the setting sun, the women got together. However, Lucy still hasn’t returned with the fresh bottle of champagne she promised. 

Chris is perched on the stable’s roof, watching you pass each large window, searching the floors of the house. His eyes flicker up to the bedroom, where Hyunjin and Lucy are. This is a disaster unraveling, and yet Chris can’t find the strength to stop the damage from happening. “Lucy?” Your voice rings out from the top of the third floor. “My gods, have you drunk so much that you have fallen asleep? You have guests here!”

Chris could see your entire demeanor shift as you passed each window as you got closer. You paused at the cracked bedroom door. Your nose scrunched up at the strong copper smell that had a hint of decay beneath it. Your breathing changed as fear crept in. You called for her once more, softer this time. “Lucy?”

The door opened wider. There was no stopping anything now. Right there, in the middle of the room, Lucy lay sprawled across the bed she shared with Arthur. Her pale throat exposed, her golden hair fanning out like silk over the bedding. Her arm hung limp over the side, fingers grazing the floor. She was still as a statue, eyes wide open. Then you could see someone bent over her. 

“Hyunjin?” His name spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. 

The newborn vampire raised his head slowly, turning to face you. Chris could see the horror on your face as you took in the sight of your fiancé. The lower half of his face was stained red with fresh blood, not quite understanding how to feed cleanly. 

Hyunjin smiled, a wide expression of happiness showing off his long, sharp fangs caught in the candlelight. “Darling, I’m so happy you’re here.”

“What…?” Your hand flew to your mouth. “What have you done?”

Hyunjin blinked, as if the question confused him. He glanced down at Lucy, as though noticing her for the first time. He muttered. “Oh, her.”

The newborn didn’t elaborate. Instead, he climbed off the bed, trying to close the distance between you. Your eyes widened seeing more of Lucy’s blood coating the front of his pretty lilac shirt you buttoned for him a handful of hours ago. 

“Don’t,” you said, your voice shaking. “Don’t come any closer.”

“I would never harm you,” he said quickly, desperately. “Never you. You must believe that. Everything I’ve done… it’s been for you.”

“This is madness.”

“No, darling, this is a gift. He gave me a gift!” Hyunjin insisted, taking another step forward. “I will share it with you. We’ll all be together. You will never leave me. We’ll never be parted again.”

“Who did this to you?”

“Lord Bahng. Oh darling, it’s such a wonderful feeling.” Hyunjin let his eyes flutter shut before smiling wide. “I can hear so much. The way your heart is strong, calling out to me.”

“This isn’t right!” You say with a hand raised to keep him from moving closer. The newborn obeys. Not your wish, but Chris’ command of maintaining a certain distance. However, you don’t know this. You couldn’t even if you asked. You are still trying to process the sight of Lucy, let alone the words leaving your fiancé's mouth. There is a hurt in your voice. “What do you mean it’s wonderful? You are killing her.”

“Darling, you just don’t understand.”

“Have you been killing those poor people in the streets?” You ask, stumbling back. Your back hits the doorjamb, though the pain doesn’t register through the shock. “Then coming and lying next to me as if you were not a damn murderer?”

Hyunjin’s mouth parts to answer, though no words come out. Chris tightens his fist, causing the newborn’s throat to stop producing any noise. Hyunjin is a perfect puppet following commands. The lack of an answer drives your fear higher, and this is what he wants. Be afraid of Hyunjin. Run, run as far away from this creature as you can. Then come seek out the one you want answers from. 

Chris takes his leave only when he sees you bolt through the house for help. Hyunjin doesn’t move, still rooted in place with Lucy. What happens to the solicitor now doesn’t matter. Not when the purpose of his existence is fulfilled. 

How peculiar, though, that you don’t run straight to staff in the house. Hell, you don’t even run down the street to Arthur. No, Chris can hear your desperate sprinting behind him, heading straight for him. The corners of his lips threaten to curl up as satisfaction courses through him. 

Soon.

A part of Chris weighs heavily on the consequences of his actions. You drew a line in the sand, and he crossed it to release true horror. Now, looking back, he should have taken you. If not, when you left the restaurant, then the night when he stood in your apartment. He had the perfect opportunity. It would have been easy to grab you, compel you to behave, and then steal you away. He could be halfway across the Black Sea by now. 

Though he is a selfish creature. Not everyone has the chance to have their soulmate fall for them a second time. His plan was working. Just another little push and you would have been his. If only he could have handled the anger Hyunjin prodded out of him.  

Hyunjin’s transformation was surprising the city. Every news source was covering it, and the police had already tied him to the nine other deaths throughout the city. It was almost too easy for Chris to get away with his actions. He would be able to take you away quietly without a spotlight on him. He didn’t even need to find you. You came to him. Chris doesn’t move from where he sits, eyes trained on the door. Not even a second later, the hinges in the old oak door creak when it opens, and you slip through the opening. Your heartbeat pounds from an elevated heart rate. Chris assumes, with the way you struggle to calm your breathing, you ran all the way here. In the middle of the night, no less. “Why did I know you were here?” You say, stopping just shy of the desk. “I’ve never even visited this far south before.” 

“Because your soul is bound to mine.” “I don’t believe you.”

The vampire sits up straighter, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Why are you still fighting the impossible? You felt our connection when you kissed me.” “No, I…”

“You did!” Chris presses on, rising from his seat. “So willingly to kiss me too. And not out of fear.”

“That’s not true!”

His head tilts to the side, gaze holding yours. “Then why does it linger? Why do you dream of it? If not because you were made for me?”

Your lack of a response betrays you. Despite Lucy’s death being fresh in your mind, you still focus on the flashbacks. Chris tapped in but refused to influence. He wanted you to experience everything, from the fragments of your time together to the feelings that blossomed in your past life. Your dreams this last week did more work than Chris could have wished for. Now even though you are awake now, the strange, aching familiarity is back, and you can’t explain it away. 

“It is waking,” Chris says more to himself than you. “Piece by piece. Just as I knew it would.”

“What is?”

“Who you were,” he said simply, now sauntering around the side of the desk to close the distance between you. “Before this small, borrowed life. Before time buried you away from me.”

“No!” You shook your head, backing away. Again, it was a cat-and-mouse game; you wanted to keep him an arm’s length away. “No, you don’t get to twist this into some fantasy to excuse what you’ve done.”

“Excuse?” he repeated, somewhat amused. “I have no need to excuse myself.”

Your anger flared again at the smirk that appeared on his face. “Then answer me this question: if you love me, if any of these feelings are real, then why would you hurt me like this?”

Those words made him pause. Not out of guilt. He does not feel guilt for his actions. Not for you or the casualty of Lucy. Certainly not for what he did to Hyunjin. He took the moment to consider how he wanted to respond. There is a piece of this puzzle that he hid from you. When he mentally agreed to not hurt you, the plan was to protect you the best he could. However, he broke that promise last night. Yes, because he lost control and will make up for it over as many lifetimes as he needs to. Though, how far would he go with this hurt he brings you? Should he reveal everything he learned during his time in London? He could either protect your image of Hyunjin or he could shatter it. 

“Hurt you,” he whispered. “Or reveal the truth?”

Chris walked back to the desk. He reached for a leather-bound sketchbook he found the night he entered your apartment. He had no plan on snooping through Hyunjin’s belongings. Though seeing how much effort Hyunjin went to hide it only made him curious. He was unaware of how damning it would be. Now Chris extends his hand out to you, offering you to take it.

Cautiously, you walk up, expecting some sort of trap. Chris motions for you to continue, a scowl etched on his face. He can no longer look you in the eye. The plan was to keep the sketchbook as evidence to incriminate Hyunjin. There was no reason for you to ever see it. 

Your hand reaches for the lacing of the sketchbook, slowly unknotting the loose leather straps. Every so carefully, you peel back the cover, revealing Hyunjin’s name and date inscribed in his handwriting. Then there are the pages of art that follow. Chris bites his tongue when he hears your breath catch. Soft sobbing follows with each page turn. He was surprised when he scanned through. Every single page held different pieces of Lucy. It started out so harmlessly, so innocently. A few of the sketches were of her face, showcasing different expressions. Then Hyunjin’s restraint slipped, leading to riskier posed drawings with less clothing. The final few pages of the drawings were of her body, completely bare, in the middle of numerous sexual acts. These were fantasies of a man in love, and not with you. The vampire finally turns his gaze to you when you reach the end. A folded piece of paper rests on the final drawing. With shaky fingers, you examine the letter. There, in Lucy’s handwriting, was something never spoken to you. Lucy was refusing Hyunjin’s advances, stating she was in love with Arthur and how dare he risk losing you. You were a prize to be earned, and he’s lucky she didn’t reveal the truth. 

“I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” Chris says, taking slow steps toward you. “You were never his. Not in the way you imagined.”

“A second choice,” you say softly, yet there is bitterness in your words. “No doubt so he could stay close to her.”

Tears continue to run down your cheeks. Your fingers tremble while folding the letter back up and closing the sketchbook. The news is a lot to take in, Chris knows, but now it’s all in the open. Perhaps this letter seals the deal for you. Hyunjin is now a monster that matches the one inside of him. 

“Hyunjin,” Chris spoke up, almost idly, as though discussing something trivial. “He was always weaker than you believed. I gave him the fate he deserved.”

“And Lucy?” Chris watches your jaw tighten. Anger radiates off you with the heat of the sun. 

Lucy was nothing more than a casualty. A consequence of Hyunjin's. Lucy was mortal, and mortals can break. Did he expect Hyunjin to drain her dry? Yes, though he doesn’t have to reveal that to you. 

“You have lost everything tonight,” Chris says while reaching for the sketchbook. He tosses it to the side so he can grasp your trembling hands. The touch is gentle, but his words are not. “The man you trusted has become something else. Your friend stands at the edge of death, and yet, instead of getting her help, you came to me.”

“For answers.”

“For me,” Chris corrects. Your teary eyes meet his, and the fight you mustered up is a crumbling sandcastle. He runs his thumbs over your knuckles as a form of comfort. It used to work when you were nervous. Hopefully, it helps you now. If not, then maybe his offer will. “My beautiful bride, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. If you would allow me, I can show you the memories plaguing you are real.”

“Christopher…”

His chest aches at how fragile your voice sounds. He needs to do something to help you. “Let me awaken you. It’ll take the pain away.” Gears are shifting in your head. What other choice do you have? Your best friend is dead, and the man you loved is a monster who killed her. Now this magnetic force bringing you to Chris is too powerful to fight anymore. Cave, and accept peace. 

This will be your decision. 

Fresh tears well up along your lash line. “Do you promise to make all the pain go away?”

“I have never lied to you. Not in your last life nor this one.”

Chris pulls on your hands to draw you closer. You don’t resist, not even when he encourages you to place your hands on his clothed chest. One hand finds your chin, tilting your head to the side. There is such beauty in your submission. It’s a blind trust being given to him. It’s almost reminiscent of a person’s faith. You are putty in his hold. Now he gets to play God and create you in his image. You will be reborn with the same gift of immortality. Chris had hundreds of dreams about turning you, and now the grand moment is upon him. 

Using his other hand, he brushes your hair away to expose the expanse of your neck. Your pulse pounds under the skin, calling out to him. The vampire leans down to where the pulse strikes strongest. There is a faint hint of floral perfume still lingering on your skin. It almost reminds him of summers back home. Soon, Chris thinks to himself. He can bring you home once he turns you. 

He’s gentle when piercing the skin; he’s not here to feed or to kill. He needs to drain enough to allow his blood to take over your bloodstream and begin your transformation. Though every one of your soft whimpers right in his ear causes his dick to twitch in interest. Now isn’t the time to get riled up, but he won’t forget how beautiful of a sound it is. 

Chris retracts his fangs when he feels you grow limp in his hold. Your heartbeat has slowed as you dance on a fragile edge of consciousness. While adjusting his hold on you, he brings a wrist to his mouth. He bites deep into his flesh to create a wound that won’t heal right away. When he’s satisfied, he brings the welling-up blood to your lips. “Drink, beloved. Your pain is almost over.”

There is no resistance. He lets the blood spill past your lips and into your system. Gradually your strength returns with greed. The vampire’s blood is addictive as it works through your body. The clingy hands gripping his shirt move to his wrist to keep him against your lips. Your blunt human teeth dig into his wounds, trying to urge more blood out. Chris can’t help his satisfied smile. He’s proud of your eagerness, and he will give you as much as your heart desires. 

With you being sired to him, he can alter your human memories. He will remove the pain of Lucy. He will change your harsh reality of Hyunjin’s fate. A peace offering for what you endured tonight because he couldn’t control his anger. You will leave this country thinking the two are alive and well. The truth will never reach you. By the time you are fully transformed, the only two thoughts will be your hunger for fresh blood and your maker. 

How things should be.

For the first time in centuries, the castle is a home again. The grand chamber is growing warmer with the wood that burns in the fireplace. Chris takes his time lighting the candles throughout the room. Shadows dance across the stone walls as the flames flicker. You sway in the middle of the room, your eyes shut, lost in the haze of the playing music. 

Your voice comes from the middle of the room; a hint of annoyance is present. “Can I finally have my king?”

Chris keeps his back to you, shaking the match in his hand to extinguish the flame. “Forgive me for wanting you to be comfortable. I thought you loved romance.”

“And I’m waiting to experience that so-called love.”

“Oh beloved, I’m about to worship you.” He answers, spinning on his heel to face you. He can’t stop the smirk from forming on his lips as the frustration grows within you. To you, he wasn’t going fast enough. He could have used his powers and lit the candles in one flick. Perhaps that’s where he is selfish. After all this time, he wants to take this moment to appreciate you being back with him. With the match discarded, Chris saunters over to you. There is no heartbeat pounding in your chest, yet the way your body tenses speaks volumes. The anticipation is consuming you. He has barely touched on the journey home. Only safe, comforting touches of reassurance. It was a challenge for him, though he didn’t want to overwhelm you. You were already processing plenty of information when he awakened your memories by gifting you immortality. You might as well have a new body with your heightened senses. It seemed unjust to not give you an adjustment period. Chris reaches for the laces on the front of your gown. His fingers delicately worked to pull each free one by one. The only noise in the room was the fabric rustling as he guided your dress off your shoulders. You shivered, either from the cool air in the room or in excitement; Chris isn’t sure. He murmurs to himself when letting the dress pool at your feet. “My bride, more beautiful than ever.”

The thin slip you wore underneath is sheer, leaving little to the imagination as his gaze roams your body. You were created precisely as you were in your previous existence. The freckles on your shoulders, the curve of your breasts, the dip in your waist, and the soft mound between your thighs were all the same. He stepped closer, his lips brushing your forehead in a feather-light kiss before trailing down to capture your mouth. You melted into him, savoring the full, velvety press of those lips you adored, the kiss deepening as his tongue slipped past to tangle with yours.

With a gentle push, he guided you backward toward the massive four-poster bed. The satin midnight-black linens were the perfect backdrop for your body. His hands found the hem of your slip, lifting it slowly over your head, exposing your naked form to the air of the castle. Your nipples hardened instantly from the lingering chill and his gaze, making them peak into tight buds. Chris couldn’t fight his desire any longer. He nearly tore the fabric of his shirt when he shed it off, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. His trousers followed; his cock, already thickening, stood proud against his thigh.

Finally, free from all clothing, he lowered you onto the bed. The mattress yielded softly beneath you as you lay back. Your eyes never left his, watching how he knelt between your legs, his hands sliding up the sides of your body to cup your breasts. His thumbs circled your nipples, teasing the buds until your back arched and a gasp escaped your lips. The touch was surely fire and silk, with your vampire senses turning each flick and pinch into waves of pleasure that bordered on overwhelming.

Chris may as well be having you for the first time again. Four hundred years ago you rested in this bed a virgin for him to adore, and he gets to do it again. How can he not milk this opportunity? It’s been years since he’s had you beneath him. His cock throbs painfully between his legs, but he still fights self-restraint. There is a correct way to go about this all, and you will experience it. 

Leaning down, Chris takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first, just to test your sensitivity. Your fingers thread into his dark curls, pulling him closer as he lavishes attention on your breasts. He alternates between sucking, licking, and nipping with just enough pressure to make you moan. Then he switches to the other, giving it the same devoted treatment, his plush lips sealing around the supple flesh until your body is trembling.

 His eyes met yours again as he trails kisses down your soft stomach. Your thighs part wider around him, allowing his broad frame to settle between them. You bit your bottom lip as he lowered his head. If he were cruel, he would force you to speak about all that you wanted. Drive that tension to a new height. Instead, he stayed merciful this time, allowing his lips to brush against an inner thigh. He trails kisses down the skin towards the slick folds of your pussy. You were already dripping for him. He could smell your arousal the second you rose for the night. You had wanted him then and there when the coffin opened, and Chris almost caved. He knew it was better to take you here after you were fed and settled in this bed. 

You cried out when his tongue dragged between your folds to tease your clit. That remaining self-restraint shattered with the taste of you. These pent-up emotions inside him were a different hunger than what he was used to. He eagerly teased your clit to see if you still liked what you did in your past life. Your hips bucked when his lips sealed to suck on your clit. Every jolt of pleasure appeared to be a powerful ocean wave crashing against the rocks in the way you squirmed. Those new senses amplified every lap and suck from him, intensifying the pressure in your core. It wouldn’t take much from him to send you over the edge. 

He needed to; he was craving it. 

The only sound he wanted to hear was your screams of pleasure bouncing off the walls. He maintained his gaze, his dark eyes burning with his devotion as he worked one finger inside you. Then eventually he progressed to two, curling to stroke that spot he knew so well from before.

“Oh, Christopher,” you whispered, your voice breaking as climax neared. He hummed against you, and the vibration pushed you over the edge. Your pussy clenched around his fingers, juices flooding his mouth as you came, shuddering beneath him.

Chris rose, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His cock was now fully erect, and the tip was glistening. He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the head of his cock along your soaked slit. He waited until your eyes locked once more. Only then did he push slowly, inch by inch, until you were filled completely. 

“You were made only for me, beloved,” Chris groans out. “Can you feel how perfect we are?”

“Yes,” you gasped at the stretch, the walls of your pussy clinging to him, not wanting him to move. He couldn’t fight the confidence coursing through him at your words about feeling every ridge and vein lining him. “I feel all of you… so deeply.”

Deliciously delirious is what he used to think when you were under him, lost in the throes of pleasure. He could drive any thoughts from your mind. All that existed to you was him. Tonight would be no exception. 

Chris began to thrust, gentle at first, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper. Both of your hands reached for his face, bringing him closer to you. He followed, adjusting his stance, resting his arms by your head. Whatever you craved, he would give it to you. If you don’t want softness and gentleness right now, then fine. He would unleash his true hunger. 

You are his princess, his wife, and his eternal love. 

The only one on this earth who gets to rule him completely. He is nothing more than a servant to this body of yours. Nothing brings him more satisfaction than knowing you are indulging your pleasure how you want. Your lips connected once more to his plush lips. There was so much aggression in your kiss. He could barely keep up as his tongue mingled with yours. His pace quickened, the thrusts growing firmer, hitting deep inside you with each stroke. Your hands traveled, finding any expanse of skin to drag your sharp nails into, some sort of grounding, too overwhelmed by how your body accepted every plunge of his cock. It didn’t take much for this exquisite torture to build your pleasure once more. 

You broke the kiss to speak against his lips. “I love you, Christopher.”

“Forever, beloved?” He groaned out, his control fraying. There was raw love in your eyes as he fucked you. Words remained trapped in your throat as your entire body tensed. You could only nod as one of his powerful thrusts triggered another orgasm. Chris felt his limbs tremble with the way your pussy tried to milk a release from his cock. Only you could make this powerful creature weak. 

“Yes, my king.” You gasped out as the high fizzled out. Chris could see the way the newly formed fangs elongate. Your body couldn’t control all the pleasure inside you. “My love for you will never die.”

Chris curses to himself, forcing himself to continue. Just as his affliction to blood kept him sustained, he must have more of you now. Even though you were real, under him and enjoying him, he couldn’t stop himself. You two would spend lifetimes together, but in this moment he craved making up for the time apart. 

What a beautiful goddess you are, he thinks to himself. God couldn’t take you from him now. Not with the gift of immortality he gave you. He still wouldn’t forgive God. No, you are the one mortal sin he will never repent for.

+++++++++ ©︎Abiaswreck | Do not copy, repost, or translate | As always, reblogs are appreciated! Feel free to comment, reblog with feedback, or send me an ask. I’d love to hear from you! Enjoyed what you read? Consider buying me a Ko-fi to show appreciation. Every donation helps with my medical costs.

[binniebb]

as long as i've got you ⋆ yang jeongin

⤷ part of the weight of love: eight ways to STAY series

some days feel heavier than they should, like you’re carrying more than your body was built for. jeongin sees it in the way you move, the way you hold yourself together, and steps in without hesitation—steady hands, softer eyes, like fate meant for him to hold this with you. as long as he’s there, it doesn’t feel quite so impossible.

pairing first time dad!jeongin x first time mom!reader genre established relationship ; hurt/comfrot ; slice of life rating mature, 18+ word count 6k warnings themes of postpartum depression ; body insecurity ; graphic & detailed smut ; p in v sex ; lactation kink?

𓄲 daddy toast time. loved writing this for you guys. innie is so soft and sweet and literally what every woman should have in a partner <3 this one goes out to the mom's/women who've dealt with low body images after giving birth. know that your body is a miracle in of itself! enjoy hunnies and if you do, please let me know by liking, commenting, and reblogging <3

m a s t e r l i s t ⋆ i n b o x

Ahri has been crying for so long the sound has stopped feeling sharp and started feeling dull, like it’s pressing against the inside of your skull instead of your ears.

You’ve changed her. Fed her. Changed her again, because apparently babies enjoy being liars. You’ve walked circles through the living room until the shape of the rug feels carved into the bottoms of your feet. You’ve bounced her, patted her, held her against your shoulder, then in the crook of your arm, then facing out because maybe she’s bored and already sick of looking at you, which is rude, honestly, considering you housed her in your body not that long ago.

None of it works.

She is pink-cheeked and offended, little mouth open in a furious wail, tiny fists opening and closing.

You shift her higher on your shoulder and try again, rubbing a hand over her back in slow circles because every article, every video, every well-meaning person online seems to think there is one magic motion that will solve everything if you just haven’t failed enough yet.

“Okay,” you murmur, even though your voice is thinner than you want it to be. “Okay, okay. We’re fine.”

Ahri does not agree.

A laugh almost leaves you, but it catches somewhere in your chest instead. You can feel how tired you are in strange places now. In your wrists. In the back of your knees. In the space between one thought and the next. You can’t tell if you’re hot or cold. Your shirt has a pale milk stain near the collar that you noticed three hours ago and decided to emotionally process later.

The apartment is dim except for the lamp by the couch and the strip of evening light still hanging on at the window. You meant to turn on more lights at some point. You meant to eat. You meant to text Jeongin back when he asked if you needed anything before he came home, but Ahri started fussing halfway through, and then fussing turned into crying, and now it’s somehow dark outside and your phone is facedown on the coffee table under a burp cloth and one clean sock.

“Please,” you whisper, kissing the side of Ahri’s head, breathing in that powder-warm baby smell underneath all the crying. “Please be nice to your mother.”

She remains unconvinced.

The front door opens just as your eyes start to sting.

You hear Jeongin step inside, the soft thud of the door closing behind him, the small pause that always comes first. It takes him half a second to take in the room. You know the moment it happens without even turning around. The crying, the lamp left on, you standing in the middle of the living room with your hair half out of its clip and your shirt wrinkled and your face probably telling on you.

He doesn’t rush.

That’s the first thing people get wrong about calm. They think it means slow in the useless way. They think it means detached. Jeongin has never been either of those things. He just moves like panic is rarely improved by adding more of it.

You hear his keys land in the bowl by the door. His shoes come off. Then his voice, low and even.

“Hey.”

Something in you loosens and tightens at the same time.

You turn just enough to look at him. “Hi.”

He’s still in his work clothes, tie loosened, sleeves pushed up, hair a little flattened from the day. There’s a crease between his brows that only shows up when he’s tired or worried, and right now it’s there for exactly one second before he smooths it away.

He steps closer, gaze flicking over your face first, then Ahri. “How long?”

You huff out something that might have been a laugh in another life. “Since the fall of Rome.”

That gets the corner of his mouth to lift.

“So,” he says, setting his bag down by the couch, “at least twenty minutes.”

“At least.”

He stops right in front of you. “Let me?”

The offer is soft. Not automatic in the way that makes you feel replaced. Not cautious in the way that makes you feel fragile. Just there.

You hesitate for the smallest second before handing her over, and even that hesitation fills you with guilt so immediate and unreasonable it makes your throat ache.

Jeongin doesn’t comment on it. He just slides one hand under Ahri and takes her against his chest with the ease of someone picking up something precious he’s handled a hundred times before. One palm settles at the back of her head. The other rubs between her shoulders, slow and firm.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, and this time it’s not aimed at you, though part of it still feels like it is. “I know. You’ve had a long day, huh?”

Ahri’s crying stutters.

You stare.

He shifts her once, barely, tucking her a little more securely under his chin. “There you go.”

Another shaky little cry. Then a hiccup. Then silence, apart from the wet, miserable snuffling that comes after.

You stare harder.

Jeongin glances up and catches you doing it. “What?”

You cross your arms before you can stop yourself. “Nothing.”

That is obviously a lie. He knows it. You know it. Even Ahri, fresh off her tiny emotional collapse, probably knows it.

He waits.

You look at your daughter, now pressed to his chest as if she has not spent the last hour wailing in your arms. Her eyes are already drooping. One fist has relaxed against Jeongin’s shirt. She looks, absurdly, like she’s had a long day at the office.

Your mouth twists before you can help it. “I’d just like it noted,” you say, “that I have been in a committed relationship with her all day, and the second you walk in, she decides to be reasonable.”

Jeongin makes a quiet sound that is suspiciously close to a laugh.

“Oh, so this is funny.”

“A little.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“A little,” he repeats.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Unbelievable.”

He rocks Ahri once, then steps close enough to bump his knee lightly against yours. “You want the truth?”

“Not particularly, but go ahead.”

“You smell like milk.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He dips his head, very serious. “She knows you’re food.”

For one full second, all you can do is stare at him. Then a laugh slips out before you can hold it back, startled and messy and too tired to be elegant. “That’s evil.”

“It’s not evil,” he says. “It makes sense.”

“I spend all day keeping her alive and my reward is being mistaken for a buffet.”

His mouth presses together. He is trying not to smile wider, which only makes it worse. “That does sound hard.”

“You are getting a terrible retirement home.”

“You say that now, but I’m the one holding your child.”

“She is your child.”

He lifts his brows.

You look at Ahri, who has now gone so quiet it feels personally insulting.

“Okay,” you mutter. “She’s ours.”

That finally gets a real laugh out of him, soft and warm and familiar enough to take the edge off the room.

The quiet that settles after feels different from the one before. Less strained. 

Jeongin rubs a thumb over Ahri’s back and studies your face again, and this time you can’t dodge it. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Not pitying. Just paying attention.

“Did you eat?” he asks.

You open your mouth. Then close it.

He nods once. “Okay.”

“I was going to.”

“I know.”

“I had a plan.”

“I know.”

“She ruined it.”

At that, he looks down at Ahri with mild suspicion. “Did you ruin your mom’s day?”

Ahri, traitor that she is, sleeps through the accusation.

You sink onto the couch, all at once aware of how badly you wanted to sit down. Jeongin watches until you’re settled, then moves to the armchair nearby instead of disappearing into the kitchen right away. Close enough. Never crowding.

For a minute, neither of you says anything. The apartment is finally quiet. The kind of quiet that only feels possible after crying, when the air still seems to hum with what came before.

You watch Ahri’s tiny chest rise and fall against his shirt. Then you look at your hands.

“I don’t know why that bothered me so much,” you say, because it feels stupid now that the feeling is out in the open. “Her calming down for you.”

Jeongin leans back a little, adjusting Ahri without waking her. “It bothered you because you’ve been here with her all day.”

You let out a breath. “I know it’s irrational.”

“Probably.”

You look up.

His expression stays calm. “A lot of things are, when you’re tired.”

That should not make your eyes burn, and yet here you are, throat tight.

You swallow. “It just feels sometimes like I’m doing everything wrong, and then you walk in and she goes quiet, and I know it’s not actually about me, but for a second it feels like it is.”

He doesn’t jump in too fast. Doesn’t correct you. Doesn’t throw comfort at you so quickly it turns into distance.

“She cries with me too,” he says after a moment.

You sniff, unconvinced. “Not like that.”

He gives you a look. “Last Tuesday?”

“That was different.”

“She screamed so hard she scared herself.”

You press your lips together, because that is true.

“And you took her from me,” he continues, “and she stopped.”

You barely remember that. The days blur at the edges now, smudged by feeding times and broken sleep and whether or not you managed to shower before noon.

As if reading that thought on your face, Jeongin’s voice softens further. “You don’t remember everything right now. That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

There are things you haven’t said out loud because they sound smaller when spoken, and smaller things are easier to dismiss. The way some afternoons stretch so strangely you look up and don’t know where they went. The way you can love Ahri so much it terrifies you and still feel completely detached from yourself by dinner. The way guilt now arrives in layers, neat and constant.

You look at him and pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I think she likes you better.”

“No,” he says, simple as that.

“You don’t even have to think about it?”

“No.”

Something in his certainty makes your chest ache.

He shifts forward and, very carefully, lowers Ahri into the bassinet beside the couch. She squirms once, lets out a tiny sigh, then settles. He waits a second, hand resting lightly on her stomach, making sure she stays asleep.

Only then does he turn back to you.

“She’s calm with me because I just got home,” he says. “You’ve been carrying all of it. She knows your voice, your heartbeat, your smell, when you’re tired, when you’re tense. Babies are weird. They pick up everything and then act brand new about it.”

Despite yourself, your mouth twitches.

“It’s true,” he says. “She’s basically a very small emotional detective.”

“A bad one.”

“A dramatic one.”

“That too.”

He sits down beside you this time, not too close at first. Enough to let you choose. When you lean into him, he opens his arm immediately and lets you fold against his shoulder like he’s been expecting it.

His hand comes up to smooth your hair back from your face. Slow. Familiar. No rush to fill the silence.

“You’re with her all day,” he says quietly. “Of course she gives you every version of herself. The good ones too.”

You stare at the bassinet, throat tight.

“It doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong,” he adds. “It means she knows you’re there.”

That lands somewhere deep enough that you can’t answer right away.

He doesn’t seem to need one. After a minute, he glances down at you. “Want me to make you something?”

You nod against his shoulder.

“Anything in particular?”

“Something I can eat with one hand.”

“That narrows it down to half our kitchen.”

“And if possible,” you say, eyes slipping closed for a moment, “something that doesn’t make me feel like a farm animal.”

He goes very still beside you. Then, carefully, “Because of the milk comment?”

“You’ll be hearing about that for years.”

“Fair.”

You finally laugh again, quieter this time. It leaves behind something softer than before.

Jeongin presses a kiss to your temple. “I’ll make food,” he murmurs. “Then you can shower if you want. Or sleep. Or sit here and do absolutely nothing for ten minutes.”

“That sounds fake.”

“It’s not fake.”

“It sounds illegal, actually.”

He smiles against your hair. “I’ll protect you from the law.”

You huff out another laugh, and for the first time all evening, the apartment feels less like something you’ve been trapped inside and more like home again.

In the bassinet, Ahri sleeps on, peaceful now, as if she hasn’t spent the last hour tearing through both your sanity and your nervous system with tiny, furious hands.

Jeongin reaches for yours and squeezes once before standing. “I’ve got you,” he says, easy and certain.

And because it’s him, because he says it the way he does, steady enough to lean your weight against, you believe him.

You stay on the couch a little longer after he disappears into the kitchen, listening to the soft clatter of plates and cabinet doors, the ordinary sounds of him moving through the apartment.

Ahri stirs once in the bassinet, then settles again, one tiny hand curled by her face. The sight of her, peaceful now, should make something in you settle too. Instead, your chest still feels strange. Lighter than before, maybe, but not fully.

It isn’t just the crying. It isn’t even the jealousy, small and sharp and embarrassing as it was. It’s everything that comes after, everything quieter. The way your body no longer feels entirely like yours, even in the moments when no one is asking anything from it. The way you catch sight of yourself in dark windows or the bathroom mirror and still pause, like you’re meeting someone you should know better by now.

Three months later, and some days you can move through it all without thinking. Other days, the awareness follows you around in little ways. In the waistband that fits differently. In shirts that hang wrong. In the ache in your chest, the softness at your middle, the tiredness that seems to settle into your skin.

Jeongin comes back with a plate balanced in one hand and a glass of water in the other, setting both down in front of you without ceremony. “Eat before you start arguing with me again,” he says, and the corner of his mouth lifts when you look up at him.

You do, because he’s right and because it’s easier when he puts things in front of you like that, simple enough not to resist. He sits beside you while you eat, one hand resting warm and absentminded on your knee, and the whole time you can feel your body in ways you don’t want to. Not enough to say anything, but present in every swallow, every shift, every glance downward.

After eating, you both take Ahri to the nursery and Jeongin gently tells you to go take a relaxing shower.

The soft, rhythmic sound of your daughter’s white noise machine drifts from the nursery, a gentle ocean of static meant to soothe. It’s supposed to soothe you, too. Instead, you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh LED light unforgiving on every line, every shift.

Three months. Three months since your body became a vessel, then a source, and now…this. The soft curve of your belly feels foreign, a stubborn reminder. Your breasts, heavy and tender, are strangers in their own skin.

You tug at the hem of your oversized sleep shirt—Jeongin’s old college tee—but it doesn’t hide anything.

The door clicks open behind you.

You don’t turn. You know the weight of his step, the quiet warmth of his presence that fills a room without demand. Jeongin leans against the doorway, watching you watch yourself. His eyes, always so soft, hold a different intensity tonight.

“Hey,” he says, voice low, a thread of velvet in the quiet.

“Hey,” you echo, your gaze dropping from the mirror to the sink.

He moves closer, his hands settling on your hips from behind, his palms warm through the thin cotton. His chin rests on your shoulder, his breath a soft current against your ear. You feel his lips brush your temple. Not a kiss, just a touch of acknowledgment.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs.

A shrug. A pathetic, watery thing. “Just looking.”

“At what?”

You swallow. The truth feels too sharp. “At what’s left.”

His hands tighten, just a fraction. A grounding pressure. “What’s left,” he repeats, and the words aren’t a question. They’re a statement, loaded with something you can’t yet parse. He turns you gently, away from the mirror’s judgment, until you’re facing him. His eyes scan your face, then drift lower, taking in the stretched fabric, the shape beneath.

“Let me look,” he says, and it’s not a request. 

Your fingers tremble as you grip the hem of the shirt. A part of you wants to pull it down, hide. Another part, a deeper, tired part, aches for him to see. To really see. You lift the fabric slowly, pulling it up and over your head. The air of the bathroom touches your skin, cooler than his gaze. You let the shirt fall to the floor.

You stand there in just your soft, nursing bra and the loose cotton shorts you wear to sleep. Everything feels exposed, vulnerable. You wait for his assessment, for the polite, husbandly admiration you’ve grown accustomed to.

Jeongin doesn’t speak. His eyes darken, pupils swallowing the dark brown of his irises. He reaches out, one hand coming to cradle the side of your belly. His touch isn’t clinical, isn’t gentle out of pity. It’s adoring and full of worship. His thumb strokes over the faint, silver lines that mark where your skin stretched to make room for life.

“This,” he whispers, his voice thickening. “This is what made our daughter.”

His other hand rises, fingers tracing the edge of your bra, along the swollen curve beneath. The material is strained, damp already in small patches from the relentless, miraculous leak of your body. His fingertip brushes one damp spot, and you flinch, a hot-cold shiver of embarrassment and something else rushing through you.

“And this,” he continues, his gaze locked on the evidence, “is what feeds her.” He leans in, his nose skimming the slope of your breast. You feel his breath, hot and deliberate, through the fabric. “You smell so good.”

A tremor works its way up your spine. His words aren’t empty compliments. They’re observations, raw and specific, dismantling your insecurities brick by brick.

His mouth finds the damp patch on your bra, and he presses a slow, open kiss against it. The fabric dampens further from his lips. A soft, helpless sound escapes you, a gasp that feels torn from a place you’d locked away.

“Jeongin…”

“I want to taste it,” he says, his voice a low rumble against your skin. His fingers hook under the bra’s front clasp. With a quiet click, it releases. The cups fall away, and your breasts spill free, heavy and full, the nipples dark and sensitive.

He doesn’t hesitate. He lowers his head, his lips closing over one nipple not with the practical suction of your daughter, but with a slow, sensual drag of his tongue. He laps at the bead of moisture there, then draws a shallow pull. A thin, sweet stream responds, coating his tongue. He moans, a deep, visceral sound that vibrates into your flesh.

“God,” he breathes, pulling back to look at you. A tiny trickle glistens on his bottom lip. “It’s sweet. It’s you.”

The blend of shock and dizzying arousal makes your head swim. This isn’t supposed to be erotic. It’s biological. But his eyes, blazing with worship and hunger, rewrite the script. Your body, this post-birth body, is making him hungry.

He switches to the other breast, his hand cupping the first to weigh it, to feel the fullness. His mouth works with a rhythm that is both tender and greedy. Each draw sends a twin sensation through you—the familiar, relieving release of pressure, and a shocking, electric pull that goes straight to your core. Your shorts feel suddenly too tight, the ache between your legs shifting from a background hum to a pounding need.

You reach for him, your fingers tangling in his hair. You don’t push him away. You hold him there, urging him deeper. He understands. His pulls become stronger, longer. Your hips arch forward, seeking friction against nothing.

When he finally lifts his head, both of your nipples are glistening, softened from his attention. His own lips are wet. He looks drunk on you.

“Look at you,” he commands, guiding you with a firm hand on your waist to turn back toward the mirror.

You obey. And you see something different. You see your reflection with him behind you, his hands on your bare hips, your breasts exposed and used, your skin flushed with a rosy heat. You see his face in the mirror, his expression of pure, unadulterated coveting. You don’t see flaws. You see a woman being devoured by her husband’s desire.

“You see it now?” he asks, his voice rough.

You nod, a tear slipping free, but it’s not from sadness. It’s from a pressure valve bursting. “I see it.”

He bends, kissing the tear from your cheek. Then his hands move to your shorts, pushing them down your legs until you stand completely naked before him, before the mirror. His palms slide up your thighs, over the new softness there, up to the junction between your legs.

“Every part of this,” he murmurs, one finger parting you, finding the heat and wetness already gathering there, “is because of what you did. Because of what you are.”

He turns you again, away from the mirror, toward your bed. He leads you with a hand at your back, his touch sure. You fall onto the soft duvet, and he follows, his body covering yours not with crushing weight, but with enveloping heat.

He kisses you, deep and searching, his tongue sliding against yours, sharing the faint, sweet taste of your milk. It’s intimate beyond anything you’ve known. Your hands scramble at his shirt, pulling it over his shoulders. You need his skin against yours. He lets you, then works at his pants, kicking them away.

His cock, hard and thick, presses against your thigh. You reach for it, your hand wrapping around the base. It’s warm, alive, and it belongs to the man who is re-sanctifying your body.

“I want to feel you,” you say, the words ragged. “All of you.”

He nods, his forehead resting against yours. He shifts, positioning himself between your legs. He lowers himself, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance. You’re wet, open, but still tight from the newness of everything. He pushes in with a slow, relentless forward motion that steals your breath.

The stretch is exquisite, a filling ache that makes your toes curl. He sinks deeper, and deeper, until his hips are flush against yours, his body a solid blanket of heat. You feel him everywhere. Inside. Around. On top.

He begins to move, his thrusts long, deliberate glides that pull almost all the way out before pushing back in to the root. Each inward stroke brushes against a spot that makes your vision blur. Your breasts, sensitive and full, sway with the rhythm of his movement. He watches them, captivated, as he drives into you.

One of his hands leaves your hip and cups a breast, his thumb circling the nipple. He squeezes gently, and another tiny trickle of milk beads up. He smears it over your skin, painting you with your own essence.

“You’re so perfect,” he grunts, his pace increasing. The bed creaks under the force. His other hand grips your thigh, holding you open for him. “This body…fuck…this body made a person. And now it’s making me lose my fucking mind.”

You can only moan, your head pushing back into the pillows. The sensations are a torrent—the deep, internal friction of his cock, the external stimulation of his hands on your breast, the overwhelming psychological shift of being wanted like this, in this state. Your hips rise to meet him, each impact sending a jolt through your nerves.

His mouth finds yours again, kissing you with a desperate, messy passion. You taste yourself on his lips. You taste his hunger. Your hands claw at his back, feeling the muscles work under his skin as he pounds into you.

The orgasm builds not as a slow tide, but as a sudden, seismic quake. It starts deep in your belly, a coil of pleasure tightening with every thrust. Your cries become sharp, ragged things. He feels it coming, his rhythm becoming punishing, aimed directly at that blooming peak.

“Come for me,” he demands, his voice a harsh whisper against your ear. “Come in this body I love. Let me feel it.”

You obey. The coil snaps.

A blistering wave of pleasure erupts from your core, radiating out to your fingertips, to the soles of your feet. Your back arches off the bed, a silent scream locked in your throat. Your inner muscles clamp around his cock, milking him in a rapid, pulsing rhythm.

“Oh-oh God! Jeongin! Jeon-ahhh!”

The release is so intense, so total, that for a moment the world whites out. You float in a void of pure sensation, tethered only by his body inside yours.

He groans, a sound of pure victory, as he feels your convulsions. He drives through them, his own control fraying. You can feel his cock swell further inside you, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, more frantic. He’s chasing his own finish now, fueled by yours.

“Fuck! Yes, just like that, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna come.”

Just as his breathing turns to ragged gasps, as his hips stutter with the imminent release—

A sound cuts through the haze.

A thin, urgent wail from the nursery.

Jeongin freezes above you, his body taut, his cock still buried deep within you, throbbing. His eyes, wild with passion, find yours. The spell breaks, but not completely. The physical connection remains, electric and unresolved.

He swallows, then sighs and slowly pulls out.

You both groan—him from the lingering ache, you from the instant feeling of emptiness inside.

He leans down and kisses you, smoothing your baby hairs back before bending down to pick up his boxers and slide them back on.

“I’ll go check on her, mama,” he murmurs. “Lay down for me.”

You stay where he leaves you at first, skin still warm, pulse still fluttering in uneven little sparks beneath your ribs. The sheets are tangled around your legs, the room dim except for the soft spill of light from the hallway where he left the door cracked behind him. You close your eyes and try to listen past the ringing in your ears, willing your body to come down gently, willing your breathing to even out enough that maybe sleep will catch you before your thoughts do.

It doesn’t.

The apartment is too quiet in the way homes only are after a cry has stopped. Not silence exactly, but a hush that makes every tiny sound stand out. The creak of the floor outside. The low murmur of Jeongin’s voice from down the hall. The soft rustle of fabric. The faint squeak of the rocking chair in the nursery.

You lie there for another minute, maybe two, staring at nothing.

Then you push yourself up, throwing the shorts and sleep shirt back on.

By the time you reach the doorway, one of Jeongin’s hands is spread over Ahri’s tiny back, patting in a slow, absent rhythm while the other supports the full weight of her against his chest. He’s standing near the window instead of sitting, swaying on instinct more than thought, his steps small and steady across the moon-pale strip of floor. Ahri is tucked against him in footie pajamas patterned with little clouds, her damp cheeks pressed into his shoulder, her fussing already quieted into sleepy little huffs.

He looks beautiful like this in a way that almost hurts.

His hair is messy, he’s shirtless, and his face is softened by exhaustion and the fragile sort of love that has no room for vanity. The night-light paints him in amber. Makes him look warm and young and older all at once. Like a boy still learning where all the sharp edges of himself are, and a father already figuring out how to sand them down with his bare hands.

“You know,” he murmurs to Ahri, his voice low enough that it barely reaches the doorway, “this is deeply unfair of you.”

Ahri makes a tiny, offended noise in her sleep-drunk state, and his mouth twitches.

“It is,” he insists quietly, bouncing her once when her face scrunches. “You were asleep. Your mama was beautiful and spread out for me. I was being very attentive, actually. Extremely dedicated to the task.” He glances down at her with exaggerated seriousness. “And then you decided no. No, papa, I think you need to suffer a little tonight.”

A laugh rises in your chest before you can stop it, but you press your lips together to keep it in.

Jeongin keeps going, voice all soft mock-accusation.

“I love you very much, but your timing is terrible. Terrible, Ahri.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head, all the sternness dissolving before it can even pretend to settle. “Still love you, though. Even when you cockblock me.”

Your shoulders shake, and you have to bite down harder on your smile.

He shifts her higher against him, one broad palm spanning the whole of her back. The movement is practiced now. Easy. But you know him well enough to see the thought beneath it, the care he still pours into every little adjustment, every supporting hand, every check of her breathing, every brush of his fingers over her hairline to make sure she’s really calming down.

When Ahri gives one last sleepy sigh and goes limp with trust in his arms, something in his expression changes.

The teasing fades.

He looks down at her for a long moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is so quiet it feels almost private, like he’s saying it mostly to the dark.

“You scare me, you know that?”

He keeps rocking.

“Not you,” he whispers, brushing his knuckles over Ahri’s warm little back. “Well. You too, sometimes. But not like this.”

A small smile ghosts across his mouth, gone almost as soon as it appears.

“I just…” He exhales slowly. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. How one tiny person can make me this happy and this terrified at the same time.”

His gaze lifts toward nothing, fixed somewhere beyond the wall, beyond the hour, beyond the nursery itself.

“There are days I still feel like someone made a mistake and handed me a whole human being to take care of. Like I’m pretending better than I actually know how to do it.” He swallows. “And then you cry, or you won’t sleep, or I can’t tell what you need right away, and for a second I think, what if I’m not enough for this? What if I miss something? What if I mess her up?”

Your heart folds in on itself.

He laughs softly then, though there’s no humor in it, only tenderness worn thin by honesty.

“But then I look at your mom.” His hand smooths over Ahri’s back again. “And she acts like I can do anything.”

His voice drops even lower. “And I think maybe I can.”

The room goes very still around you.

“Because she’s with me,” he says. “So even when I’m scared, it doesn’t feel impossible. It just feels hard. And hard is fine. Hard, I can do.” His thumb strokes a tiny circle between Ahri’s shoulder blades. “As long as I’ve got her, I think I’ll be okay. I think we both will.”

You don’t realize your eyes have started burning until you blink.

For one foolish second, you think he hasn’t noticed you. That you’ve stayed hidden in the doorway, wrapped in shadow and silence and the ache of loving him too much.

Then he turns.

His eyes find yours immediately, steady and dark and warm with the kind of knowing that makes heat creep up your neck. He’d known. Of course he’d known. You should have guessed the second you started holding your breath like that.

He doesn’t look embarrassed. Doesn’t call you out. Just watches you with that soft, unbearably fond expression, like catching you there was always part of the moment.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks.

His voice is normal again, gentle, but there’s something tucked beneath it. Something shy around the edges. Like he’s offering you the truth he didn’t mean to say out loud and trusting you to hold it carefully.

You shake your head.

Jeongin gives a tiny nod, then tilts his head toward him in silent invitation.

You cross the room without a word.

The floor is cool under your feet. The air smells faintly of baby lotion and the milky sweetness that seems to cling to Ahri no matter how many baths she’s had. When you reach him, you slide one hand against his waist and tuck yourself into his side, cheek brushing his shoulder, careful not to jostle the baby between you.

He melts into you on instinct.

And for a moment, none of you speak.

Ahri sleeps between your hearts, warm and small and impossibly precious. Jeongin’s arm comes around your back as much as it can with her still in his hold, and you feel him press a kiss into your hair.

“You were eavesdropping,” he murmurs.

You tip your face up just enough to look at him. “You were talking loud.”

A grin tugs at his mouth. “I was not.”

“You were monologuing to our daughter in the middle of the night.”

“She needed a lecture.”

“She’s three months old.”

“And already sabotaging me.”

That startles a laugh out of you, quiet and breathy so you don’t wake her, and the sound changes him. Loosens the last bit of tension still living in his shoulders. Makes him look less like someone bracing against the dark and more like someone remembering there is light in it too.

Your hand slides over his back, slow and soothing.

“You’re a good dad,” you tell him softly.

He looks down at Ahri, then back at you. The vulnerability in his face is so unguarded it almost feels sacred.

“I’m trying,” he says.

“I know.”

He studies you for a second longer, as though making sure you mean it, as though he still hasn’t gotten used to the miracle of being believed at his softest. Then he leans down and kisses you, careful and lingering, all tenderness and leftover warmth and something deeper than either. Not hunger this time. Home. Just home.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests briefly against yours.

“Come back to bed with me?” he whispers.

You glance at Ahri, sleeping soundly against his chest. “Think she’ll allow it?”

Jeongin looks deeply unimpressed. “No. But I think she’s won for tonight, so she can be gracious about it.”

You laugh again, and this time he smiles wide enough to show teeth, his eyes sharpening into his trademark slits, all boyish charm braided together with the quiet steadiness he’s grown into, strand by strand, since the day Ahri was born.

He might still be scared. Maybe he always will be, in some small secret way.

But standing here in the low gold light, your daughter safe in his arms and your hand over his heart, he doesn’t look breakable. He looks rooted. Like something planted deep enough to weather whatever comes. Like a man still learning fatherhood, yes, but already carrying it with both hands.

And when his eyes meet yours again, warm and certain and full of that private little I know you better than anyone look, you realize he isn’t the only one who thinks everything will be okay as long as you have each other.

You lean into him harder, and together, in the hush of the nursery, you sway.

“I love you both…so much.”

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[jektaev]

ʙᴀᴘᴛɪꜱᴇ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜɪɢʜꜱ 'ᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛꜱ

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓— Tell me your confessions baby

smut‪‪ ❤︎‬ +18 ♯ unprotected sex. 𝐹 -reader. christianity. language. multiple positions. switch! jeongin. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶).

He was a church boy, innocent, saving himself for marriage. Wanted to be a priest ever since he was little telling himself he'd never commit a lustfull sin and would leave it for his wife when the time was ready.

Jeongin's mind was set ever since, he would do little plays for the church along with prayers and reading sessions. That was until he met you, the most delicate and precious woman he'd ever laid eyes on. You moved into the city just two weeks ago and you're fathers a priest anyways so the two of you meeting was bound to happen eventually.

Everyone viewed Jeongin as this pure golden boy who was born to do this, his life long passion of being closer to God was his dream and his meaning of life is to do so and follow him. You loved seeing how sweet he was you were innocent yourself. Same wishes to be wedded before any acts of intimacy because of living in a christan household, you were in the same boat.

His parents trusted the two of you alone because of how much they loved you. They paired you guys for everything, cooking meals for the kids, cleaning up after bible studies. Even during church camp they let you guys have a cabin all to yourselfs.... wrong move.

Little did they know they're little "angels" had been committing sins ever since the met. Shared your first makeout with him in the confessional, originally it was supposed to teach eachother how to kiss and lead to a sloppy tongue to tongue situation.

His tip is pushing into your hole fucking you with only the thick tip the boy casually had in his pants like it's not the biggest dick a want to be priest could have.

It's not a sin if it's just the tip the two of you said, if he pulls out then there's no evidence. Gripping the pillow you're head it rested on, you let moans slip out as you grind against the tip to slowly take more inch by inch. "W-What are you doing.." Jeongin says breathlessly trying to keep his restraint and not fuck into you like an animal in heat.

"Innie f—fuuck, go deeper please-!" His eyes widen and meet yours instantly. "Like, d-deeper i-inside..?" Jeongin says unsure if he just heard that right.

"Yes please jeongin, need you so bad." You watch him slowly pull out to not hurt you. "B-But... we would be sinning", The boy repeats not sure if he should follow his brain or his dick. Grunting as you sit up on your elbows watching him with a gaze. "Now you care?" You say slightly frustrated. "Ive always have y/n, the only reason I do this is for you", Jeongin fully pulled out as he sits up on his knees. "I quit my dream, sinned it away to be with you".

Pulling him into your arms as you hold him, he is right, before the two of you met you guys had never been lustfull. Knowing your the reason he left his own passion of being a priest was all for you.

"If you don't want to jeongin, we don't have too." You say pulling away from the hug and leaving a kiss on his cheek. Sitting up against the headboard as he pats his lap motioning you over to him. Straddling him as one leg rest on each side of his lap. "Ride me." You're eyes widened. After just saying he didn't want to sin, he wants you to fully take his dick?

"Jeongin we've—you've never gone fully in are you su—". His cock speaks for itself poking up to slam into your cunt. The sting of never having him inside you before burns, but then gets mixed with an amazing amount of pleasure. "Take it, take all of me". Jeongin holds your hips still as his cock piston's into your pussy. You feel like you're brain is about to explode. His dick is so addictive yet so fucking perfect.

Arching into every thrust up he's doing to you, feeling eyes watching your stomach; looking down to see jeongin's fox like eyes fixated on the belly bulge that's prominently bobbing. "Holy shit is that me?" His fingers reach from being on your hip to now hovering over the bulge, his thrust never stopping. As he finally presses down against the bump causing you to shiver and let out a loud moan.

"That was so sexy". Just to hear it again he pressed down once more and you can't help but grind down against his cock. Jeongin whimpers at the contact. "It feels so much better when you do it, shit, do it again please, please—!" He moans out now laying back against the headboard. You're knees digging down into the mattress under you two as you start to ride him.

You're bouncing on to his cock, the movements followed by the creaking of the bed. Jeongin eyes focused on watching were you guys now meet, you're pussy just sucking him in so nicely. The courage taking over you or it could just be the lust that is making you want to devour the man under you. You reach down to lick his lower body feeling every muscle twitch under your tongue. Now reaching up to his "massive heart" you take your time there, it's your favorite part about him, not his abs, not his biceps, his chest.

Teasing trying to test the waters you now grind down against him as your tongue laps out his light pink nipple. Jeongin throws back his head letting out a whimper and a mix of a cry, you look up at him as your lips meet the other one. "D-Don't—do that!" He continues to moan out. "But you look so pretty when I do it innie–baby~"

His ears are bright red how now pulling you against his chest to hold you firmly by your back as he thrust into you. "You don't know when to stop do you", He grits out. "You're being so bad, like a brat." You were going to protest until jeongin shuts you up with a kiss that's all tongue and saliva. "Do you deserve to have me? Do you deserve to cum all over this cock?" Trying to say something—anything but the way he's practically hitting so deep into the spot you needed to be touched the most; you can't say anything.

"P-Please—! mph–fuck!" Is the only thing you can let out your on the brink of your climax and all you want is the man to fuck you full. Jeongins grip gets tighter on your hips now moving you up and down to meet his thrust, his crucifix ring now being indented into your waist it might just leave a mark. "Watch your language now, what would the lord think?"

Beating into your cunt with a motion so rough you grip onto his bicep leaving crescents along with bite marks all over his neck. "You close darling? yeah? can feel you—so fuck'n tight". Jeongin fucks up into you like nothing sweat already raiding off the both of you but with his strength its nothing to him.

You're clenching makes him grit out profanity, for a catholic man he sure has alot to ask for forgiveness after this. "Gonna cum—uh! yes-!" You spit out tugging on the boys hair as he slows down changing his movements. "Milk this—thrust, fuck'n—thrust, cock darling, make me proud". Using the last of your strength to match his abuse, with one more thrust hitting you perfectly.

His hot seed shoots into you along with your cum dripping down his shaft—down to his balls and soaking the bed. Jeongin holds you against his chest as you catch your breath. "After this we have to go to the confessional". Jeogin says kissing the top of your head softly. "I-I can't walk... maybe tomorrow?" You say and of course he agrees.

✦ —jektaev 🐰ᵎᵎ

🎞️ requested : I.N to "Church" By Chase Atlantic

Tag list !! 🏷️ @mimiopla1 @skz43ver @g0matchi @abriefnirvana @yeonii08 @aiyanotfound @the-sea-called-history02 @certainstarfishmiracle @stormynight-240 @instabul @94luvieclub @bunny-2473 @yeeyeeilacktherapy-blog @itsdragonius @jisungmi @ncityswrld @kpop-kaos @kloversung @zosauce @hlanalovelee @dina-10s-blog @stryscribbles

[jektaev]

ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇʀ ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓— So deep it could kill me

smut‪‪ ❤︎‬ +18 ♯ unprotected sex. 𝐹 -reader. oral(ℳ)rec. language. semi-public. teasing. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶).

In public moments Chan loves being able to love you loudly, hand in hand as the two of you walk around in Sydney. You're mother-in-law absolutely adores you, after hearing you and Chan were coming into town for vacation she invited the both of you over instantly.

"It's going to be five soon, should we walk around a bit more before we head over to mum's?" The man smiles looking down at you as you look around at little shops nearby. He clears his throat then pinches your nose lightly. "Earth to my wife?? Hello??" Chan says with pure confidence, he loves being able to call you that knowing its true.

"Huh? Oh, yeah baby, sorry everything is so cute here." You say like a little girl never being able to go into the outside world. "It's gorgeous channie, and you grew up here." Grabbing his hand and proceeding to walk down the street. "Soo, yes or no?" Chan says trying to get an answer from you.

"I think we should save the touring for another day, I want to see your mom asap." Chan looks at you with pure love in his eyes, his family means everything to him. You mean everything to him, so seeing you love and adore his family the way the love you makes him fall in love all over again.

-

You guys finally arrive at his parents house and you're the first to rush in to go find his little sister—Hannah in her room finishing up her set list for her on going tour. "Y/nniee!!!" Her arms immediately find yours hugging eachother like you two are blood related.

Finally walking into the living room together to find your husband on the foor with berry licking his face making him giggle like a little boy. Its moments like this you enjoy the most, seeing Chan happy after all the stress and workless nights he concurs. You get onto your knees to play with berry.

The night ends with an amazing meal, you and his family finally catching up after what felt like decades. You insisted on washing the dishes due to the delicious food you're mother-in-law made with all her love. You hum while you continue the dishes, everyone else is in their own rooms now trying to rest after being bloated. Strong—familiar hands wrap around your waist. The same hands you know exactly who stands behind you.

"You really didn't have to worry about the dishes baby, it's Hannah's job to do e'm". The aussie replies now taking your hand and dragging you into the guest room the two of you were staying at in his family's house.

Now getting dressed to get ready for the night, you pull your hair to the left side watching yourself in the mirror as you turn your head to the right and call out for your husband. "Channie–love, could you help me take off my necklace??" You always struggled with the clasp because of your nails always being done and paid for by your partner. Chan walks in without hesitation and watches you in the mirror as he presses himself against you. "Look so beautiful, my wife—my precious girl". Chan replies as he slips the necklace off your neck delicately. His hands trail down hovering over your collar bone as he kisses your jaw.

"You know how much I love seeing you with my mum and Hannah, love seeing you with my family... Mrs Bahng fitting in so well." Bangchans hands rest against your hip as the other caress your face. Watching your body closely in the mirror. "Cha—Chan..." You say with a whisper.

"Yeah? What honey?" Chan says hand dropping from your face to now unbuttoning your blouse. Leaving it open halfway to now fiddle with your clothed breast. The sensation of his low tone turning you on. Arching against him without hesitation feel weak in your knees. You're head rest on his shoulder leaving the left side of your neck on display for him. Taking this as an invitation to leave kisses on your neck, his breath is hot—filled with want and need.

The hands that are cupping your breast are getting a tighter grip as you gasp softly at the touch. "So beautiful like this. My perfect wife, God I love you." He's huffing into your ear as you feel on your lower back a prominent bulge rutting into you.

"Seeing you with my family makes me so damn happy baby." You groan at the contact of his lips pressing against your ear. "Now, can you help me out gorgeous girl? I promise I'll make you feel so good afterwards."

Of course you agree, if someone was ever dumb enough to turn down that handsome man they would have to be incredibly stupid.

You're on your knees with your heels on your feet watching the man with hooded eyes licking his lips—watching you with pure hunger as you unzip his pants. Chan's big hands come down to hold your hair back into a ponytail watching your face closely.

Pulling his pants and boxers down enough to free him but also so they aren't disturbing you. Bangchan's cock is standing up, proud prominent length and girth infront of your face with a large vein that reaches from the base of his cock to his pretty pink tip. Practically drolling from the sight and to caught in the moment you're just staring at it, chan moves his hips closer making your lips kiss his tip.

"Getting cold feet already honey? You've done this to me plenty of times and you still aren't used to it. His hands reach the hem of his collar polo shirt pulling it off like nothing, looking down at you so attentively, he can't help but smile as you come back from your dazed state.

You start by licking his tip, then reaching down to lick the base and all the way back up. You're other hand taking the spots you're throat won't let you. Once you decide to take him into your mouth it's over for him, his eyes roll back as his hips slightly thrust into you. "Yeahh, there you go Mrs Bahng. Take me deeper." You do exactly that, taking him deeper feel him hit your uvula over and over.

His hands gets tighter in the grip he has on your hair. Chan's eyes are completely blown out. "Let me fuck that pretty mouth, please baby." His voice coming out like honey and once again, who are you to deny such a beautiful man. Nodding around him as your hands brace themselves on his thighs. "Breathe through your nose, tap three times if you need air okay love?" Even in such a sexual state your husband will always prioritize your comfort.

Chan now grips the back of your head as he starts using you as a cock slut. Using your own throat for his own pleasure. "This the same mouth that tells mum how amazing the dinner was. Same mouth that tells my sister that she means the world to her. Now it's being used to treat her beloved husband so nicely isn't it sweetheart."

You say yes in a whimper, the vibration sending shivers into his cock. Chan's hands cluch on your head his veins even more prominent then before, muscle in his forearm now being flexed. Now thrusting into your throat with a rapid motion. Huffing as he bites down on his lip from letting out groans. "I'm already so close, so good f'me love."

You're hands stay clutched little scratches on his thighs from the impact, you look up to the man and that was were you messed up. His chiseled chest from this angle is practically deadly, a drop of sweat the trailed down from his forehead down to his jaw, along with his head being thrown back and letting the whisper of your name fall out. Clenching your legs you can't hide the little moan you let out around his cock. "F-Fuck—! Let me cum on these beautiful lips, please, please baby—!" Bangchan on the verge of cumming will always be your favorite version of him, so needy, pathetic even.

Cum oozes into your mouth hitting the back of your throat perfectly. His load was so thick and full it had you looking like you just took a bite out of a creamy custard filled donut, such a sex look on you especially with his cock still twisting and twitching on your tongue.

He wanted to continue his assault on your throat, as tears began to form from your eyes. Bangchan growls at the sight but then was greeted by a knock on the door. "Hey, I keep hearing loud voices, you guys alright'?" Hannah says from the otherside of the door in her thick aussie accent.

Chan smiles down at you and puts his finger up to his perfectly sculpted nose in a 'be quiet' motion like he isn't the loud one. His hips never stilled the little wet sounds didn't either. "Everything's fine we do little massages before bed, don't we love?" This time he looks at you with a raised eyebrow waiting for you to respond to his dearest sister. "Mph, mhm!" You try to let out but you just sound like you're mouth is full. "Ah, o-okay.. then." Hannah says with a tone that's still slightly suspicious and leaves the door.

"Now where were we?" His grin that was softened turns into a big smirk with his dimples prominently poking out his cheeks as his fingers move a stand of hair out of your face.

✦ —jektaev 🐰ᵎᵎ

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[dalkorem]

✶ ALREADY ATE

─── 概要 ⋆ being friends with him definitely has its benefits.

h.hyunjin x f !reader

explicit ⸝⸝ +18. (mdni) ── 3.3k

⌗ ┆ friends with benefits ⨾ fingering ⨾ cunnilingus ⨾ choking ⨾ mirror

⋆

Your eyes stay locked on the screen of your laptop, books spread open across the desk. You haven’t looked away from this document for hours, your fingers moving tirelessly as you type out every thought that comes to mind. The assignment is due in just a few days, and after weeks of procrastination, you’ve finally managed to focus.

Still, the constant pressure has left you on edge. Lately, everyone, from your parents to your friends, has been walking on eggshells around you, careful not to push you any further.

Everyone except one.

“Hyunjin…” you mutter through gritted teeth.

He’s standing behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders before beginning to knead into them, firm and deliberate. His thumbs press into the tension there, slowly working their way down, tracing circles along your shoulder blades before drifting toward your collarbones.

He had invited you over after weeks of being too busy to see you. You had agreed without thinking long before remembering this stupid assignment. And now here you are, in his apartment, laptop plugged in, books open… while he does everything he can to distract you, like an impatient child.

“C’moooon, you come over and don’t even spend time with meee,” he whines, lightly shaking you from side to side.

“I’m already in a bad mood because of this assignment, stop making it worse!” you snap, stopping your typing as you turn fully toward him, your face tense and crumpled with frustration.

But the moment you meet his eyes, a little hurt, your expression falters.

“Ughh… I’m sorry, Hyunjin. This project’s just really getting to me.”

His hands settle on your shoulders again, but this time his touch is slower, more intentional. He massages you properly, easing the tight knots in your upper back, his thumbs pressing just enough to make you exhale.

“Maybe you should take a break,” he murmurs. “Do something to relax.”

“I can’t. Every time I stop, I just think about it again.”

He gently presses on your shoulder, guiding you to turn your chair around so your back faces the desk, leaving your laptop behind as you face him instead.

There’s a playful grin on his lips now. His gaze has changed too, darker somehow, and fixated on yours. His thumbs return to your collarbones, tracing slow, absent-minded circles against your skin.

“I might have an idea…”

The look on his face tells you exactly what he means.

“H-here…? What about your roommates?”

“Well…” he leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I guess you’ll just have to keep quiet.”

Before you can respond, he takes your wrists, pulling you up from the chair in one smooth motion.

You and Hyunjin are friends, definitely. Just… the kind of friends who don’t always act like it when things get a little too tense.

He gently puts his hand on the back of your head before pressing his lips on yours. The warmth of his body and the softness of his lips relaxes your muscles. You kiss him back, heat coming up to your cheeks while his hand trails down your spine before resting on your hips, bringing them closer to his. You can already feel him growing against you, impatiently. He pulls you in until you are close enough to his bed before pushing you onto it. You softly gasp as he kneels between your legs, bending down to capture your lips again. Your stomach flutters while his tongue caresses yours, with one hand caressing your thigh and the other wrapped gently around your throat. Hyunjin knows your body by heart, he knows what to do and how to touch you to make your head dizzy in lust.

He starts to kiss your neck, his lips trailing down as his breath fans over your skin while his tongue brushes against your neck.

“Ahh.. Hyunjin” you whimper, trying to keep it as quiet as possible.

You feel his lips curve into a smile against your neck at the sound of his name. He loves to have you like this, to be the reason for your pleasure and he could spend hours making you cum back to back just to hear you scream his name. His blood rushed to his cock just thinking about it.

He stands back up on his knees before grabbing onto your pants and taking them off of you. He bites his lips before a moan resonates in his throat at the sight of your glistening pussy.

“So wet and ready for me, hm?” he murmurs to himself as he lowers his head down between your thighs, his hands firm as they hold you in place. The first brush of his lips against our clit makes your breath hitch, your fingers tightening in the sheets as a slow warmth spreads through you. You feel his tongue, relaxed, rolling against your clit, the movement so slow it’s making you squirm in anticipation. His eyes never look away from your face, taking in every expression you make. He starts to suck on your clit while his finger teases your entrance. You plunge your fingers in his hair, slightly pushing on it as you bite your other hand trying to not let any sound come out of your mouth, the feeling of his tongue already releasing the tension that built up inside of you. He finally pushes two fingers inside you, the cold metal of his rings making you jolt in surprise, pushing them in and out rapidly while his tongue and mouth are still latched on your swollen clit. He moves his head from side to side bringing you closer to the edge.

“Fuck.. I’m close. K-Keep going..” you whisper, your eyes rolling back.

Hyunjin moves his fingers back and forth, curling them inside you while his mouth is working onto your sensitive bud, lewd sucking noises filling the room.

You push his head harder on your pussy, hips grinding on his face instinctively, trying to reach your climax. His tongue and fingers move perfectly in sync, as you feel a coil forming in your lower stomach. You look down at him, admiring his perfect face buried deep between your thighs, focused on your pleasure. Hyunjin is definitely getting off from just eating you out, sweet groans trembling against your clit, his hips grinding desperately against the mattress as his eyes roll back. The sight is enough to bring you over the edge, crying out his name silently as your thighs tremble around his head. Hyunjin continues sucking on your clit while his fingers stay still inside you, filling you up perfectly.

*knock knock*

Your face snaps toward the door at the sudden sound while Hyunjin, unfazed, continues slowly sucking on your sensitive spot, barely nudging back when you try to pull him away.

Another knock resonated in the room followed by Felix’s voice “Dinner is ready if you want.”

Hyunjin groans, finally sitting back with a grin.

“Comiiiing !” he shouts, turning to you with that mischievous look.

You playfully smack his shoulder before putting your panties and pants back on.

“Go wash your face and hands, it’s a mess.”

Hyunjin silently looks at you before bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them seductively, clearly savoring the tangy taste you left on them. You roll your eyes and head to the living room, before taking a plate of whatever Hyunjin’s roommates are having.

“How’s studying ?” Jeongin asks.

Your heart skips a beat at the sudden question.

You clear your throat “Ahem… yeah, it’s… alright” you answer, trying to sound normal.

You glance around awkwardly, finally spotting Hyunjin emerging from the bathroom. Jeongin hands him a plate, but Hyunjin waves it off without a word.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry. Already ate something” he says, barely looking at you, but you know that smirk tells you he’s definitely giggling on the inside. You try to focus on your plate, forcing yourself to act normal, but it’s nearly impossible with Hyunjin sitting across from you like nothing happened.

Your grip tightens slightly around your fork when you feel it… his foot brushing against your ankle under the table making you freeze.

Slowly and carefully you glance up at him. He’s casually talking to Felix, nodding along, completely unfazed by his own actions that he conducts in secret under the table. He doesn’t even glance at you once but his foot presses a little more firmly against yours. Your breath catches in your throat and you pull your leg back slightly, shooting him a warning look. He doesn’t even react at all, instead, he takes a sip of his drink, lips curving into a grin, just barely.

A few seconds pass… then his foot finds you again. This time, it drags slowly along your ankle making you nearly choke on your food.

“Are you okay ?” Jeongin asks, glancing at you.

“Y-yeah,” you cough lightly, forcing a smile. “Just… went down the wrong way.”

Hyunjin hums softly, like he agrees, but you can see the amusement in his eyes now.

Oh, he’s enjoying this.

You try to ignore him, shifting in your seat but that only seems to encourage him. His foot moves again, making it impossible to focus on anything else. You shoot him another look, sharper this time.

Stop.

He finally meets your gaze and smirks.

By the time dinner ends, you’re already on edge. You stand up a little too quickly, grabbing your plate and heading toward the kitchen just to get away from him. Your heart is still racing, your thoughts completely scrambled. You barely set the plate down before you feel him behind you.

Close. Too close.

“You’re being awfully quiet” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You don’t turn around. “Maybe because someone won’t stop being annoying.”

A soft chuckle brushes against your ear. “Annoying ?” he repeats, amused.

You spin around to face him, lowering your voice. “You think this is funny ?”

“I think,” he steps closer, backing you lightly against the counter, “you’re overreacting”

“You–” you stop, breath catching as he leans in just enough to make your pulse spike again. “You’re the one who started it”

“And you didn’t like it ?” he tilts his head, watching you closely.

You hesitate. That’s all the answer he needs.

His grin widens, softer this time. “That’s what I thought.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real bite behind it anymore. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re still here,” he counters easily.

Before you can respond, voices echo from the living room.

You both freeze for a split second.

Then Hyunjin leans in, just enough for his lips to brush dangerously close to yours.

“Careful,” he whispers, eyes flicking toward the doorway. “Wouldn’t want them to notice.”

Your breath stutters.

He pulls back like nothing happened, his expression unreadable, except for the quick glance he throws toward his bedroom before looking back at you.

He turns around and walks up to Felix before resting his hand on his shoulder “I'm exhausted guys, I'll head off to bed.” he yawns. His eyes flick to you again “Y/N you should go study again” he smiles softly but it doesn't hide the mischief in his gaze.

You nod and watch him head to his bedroom. You put away the dishes from the living room to the kitchen before following Hyunjin’s steps.

You open the door carefully before closing it behind you.

He is sitting against the bed’s headboard. Most of his clothes are gone, leaving only his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His legs are spread, casual, as if they were inviting you in. He pats the empty spot between them, shaking you out of your dreamy state.

“Come here” he commands softly.

You gulp down your nervousness and do as you are told. You barely reach the edge of his bed before his hand catches on the fabric of your pants.

“Remove your clothes first, sweetheart”

The sudden pet name is enough to make your face hot and your stomach flutters. The word lingers in the air, making your breath catch and for a second, you don’t move. You can feel his eyes on you, waiting, watching. Slowly, almost hesitantly, your hands move to your clothes. Each movement feels heavier under his gaze, your skin warming as you become more and more aware of yourself… of him. You don’t dare look at him, not until you’re done, and when you finally do, he’s already watching.

He pulls on your wrist gently to guide you between his thighs, your bare back finding the warmth of his torso. You shiver at the feeling of his cold fingers caressing your arms while his lips find your neck, kissing it gently, trailing up to your ear where he whispers softly “I wanna play with you for a bit, I missed you”

You can’t help but bite your lip, your eyelids half-closed.

“I want you to watch yourself… see what I do to you.” he murmurs as he nods toward the big mirror set right in front of his bed. You see Hyunjin’s arms wrapped around you while his hands wander all over your flushed skin. You feel your pussy clench around nothing. The sight looks too erotic, enough to have you dripping already.

“I want to see you lose control” he murmurs before kissing your neck again, tightening his arms around you. He puts his legs over yours, forcing your thighs open revealing your already glistening pussy. His eyes flick at the mirror switching from your face to your bare body. He groans at the sight before resting his right hand on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. His left hand shifts from your arms to your chest, where his fingers trace patterns over the skin, brushing slightly against your nipples from time to time earning soft hisses from you. His hand now rides higher before grabbing onto your neck possessively while his other one caresses the outer part of your pussy, teasingly, never touching you where you need it the most.

You can’t help but squirm in eagerness while his hand holds your face into place. His middle finger gently brushes against your swollen clit, drawing small circles on it making you sigh in relief. He slides two fingers down, reaching your entrance and feeling how wet you are.

“Oh you are loving this, don’t you” his voice is low, full of desire. You moan as you feel his fingertip slightly dip inside you. He suddenly slaps your pussy before chuckling.

“Shhh, stay quiet, remember ?”

He resumes the motion of his fingertips on your clit as you bite your lip to avoid making any noises. The pressure of his fingers on your bud is already heating up your body, your eyes rolling back desperately as his movements start to quicken.

“F-fuck Hyunjin– please” you desperately breathe out, your hand reaching down for his wrist. You feel your body tensing as the pit in your stomach grows bigger.

“What are you begging for, hm ?” he suddenly pushes two fingers inside of you. “This ?”

Your mouth drops open and a loud moan echoes in the room. His arms get around your neck, his elbow fitting perfectly under your chin as he flexes his biceps, reducing the airflow from going to your head.

“Quiet. Be a good girl and I'll make you cum” He forces your gaze toward the mirror “And i'll make sure you watch everything.”

You hold onto his arm while his fingers abuse your hole repeatedly, going in and out, feeling his joints brush against your walls. Your back arches as the feeling gets too overwhelming, his fingertips finally found the soft spot, curling and pushing on it gently.

“Look at you.. so pretty~” he whispers before seductively biting on your ear “Taking my fingers so well”

You watch yourself, catching your lewd expression, legs spread out wide, not an ounce of shame while looking at his fingers going in and out of you until his cold rings reach your entrance. You can see his face, so concentrated on your pleasure, his bottom lip achingly stuck between his teeth. His eyelids are half closed, too drunk in lust to fully open them, however, they never leave you, they are consistently watching you through that mirror.

Whimpers flow out of your parted lips, mixed with Hyunjin’s moans he tries so hard to contain. He is definitely enjoying this as much as you do by how twitchy his cock is behind your back, as his hips jerk upward unconsciously in desperation to fuck you instead of his fingers. But he wants to focus on you today : watching your face contort in pleasure every time his fingertips graze against your sweet spot, feeling how your walls tighten at each moan that comes out of his lips, and enjoying the way your nails dig in his biceps.

“G-gonna cum mhh..” you barely manage to let out with your airflow being reduced and Hyunjin’s fingers rapidely fucking you.

“H-hold it right there, not yet”

His chest is warm against you, rising and falling while he is panting, completely breathless. His muscles tighten around your neck, making you look up to the both of you in the mirror again. You feel your body becoming hotter as it wriggles around. You try to close your legs, the overstimulation getting too much for you to bear, but his legs block you from doing so. He has total control of your body and it’s making you feel both embarrassed and turned on. Wet noises and moans fill the room as you have a hard time keeping those to yourself.

His arms now shift from your neck to cover your mouth, tilting your head down so you can look nowhere else but in front of you, at that mirror.

“Cum for me, watch yourself c-cum on my fingers..”

Your back arches, legs desperately trying to close around his hand as your climax washes over you. Your moans and whimpers are muffled by his biceps, allowing you to hear his low groans resonating in your ear. You feel all the tension being released as your wetness coats his fingers, spilling onto the mattress.

“Good girl… keep going”

You ride out your orgasm on his fingers, while the hold he had on your face becomes loose. His free hand caresses your hair gently before falling on your hip. He presses warm kisses on your temple before removing his fingers from inside of you to bring them to his mouth.

You’re still catching your breath, your body heavy against his, when he presses a slow kiss just behind your ear. “Missed you” he murmurs this time, quieter.

The shift catches you off guard. Your fingers curl loosely around his wrist, grounding yourself as your heartbeat slowly comes down. You tilt your head slightly, meeting his eyes through the mirror.

“You’re such a distraction” you whisper, your voice barely steady.

He huffs out a quiet laugh, his thumb brushing absentmindedly along your arm.

“And you still came over.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance left. Outside, you can hear faint movement in the apartment : dishes, voices, life continuing like normal.

Inside the room, though, everything feels slower. Hyunjin presses another kiss to your shoulder, lingering this time before pulling back just enough to look at you properly.

“Stay a bit,” he says, “Then you can go back to your assignment.”

You hesitate…

“…Fine” you sigh, leaning back into him again despite yourself.

His smile is immediate, satisfied, as his arms tighten around you just a little.

“Good.”

For once, neither of you rushes.

And for a little while, the assignment, the stress, everything waiting outside that room… can wait.

⋆

𝒓em’s note : hope you enjoyed ! you can send in requests <3

[gyuzies]

𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

𝜗𝜚⋆ dad!hyunjin, mom!reader, they alr have a daughter [5.4k]

A day filled with happiness, laughter and endless cake, hyunjin's sad watching his little girl grow up, his solution? put another baby in you!

breeding, oral (m & f rec), fingering, tit sucking, body worship, size kink, belly bulge, creampie, unprotected sex (shocker), teasing, manhandling, hyunnie is whipped!, lovely in love like literally 90% is them being married and in love.

It was your daughters 3rd birthday, a day filled with toddlers screaming, giggling and just as much fun. Family, friends gathered around in your backyard, decorated in pink, hand painted decorations because Hyewon deserved nothing but the best.

Hyewon, your pride and joy, carried her for 9 long, painful months.

Just for her to be a mini Hyunjin.

The same dramatic flare even at three, the same soft look when they want something, the same mole under their eyes.

Hyunjin was made to be a dad, his soft presence, his caring nature; that belief has only been solidified after Hyewon.

Despite his hectic schedule he never missed anything, every appointment, every milestone he was there. He says its because she knew he'd be sad and she definitely didn't want her appa to be sad.

The suns long set, the pink and orange in the sky fading to blue and black. The chaotic day of constant sound and chaos settling to the distant sounds of dogs barking and contentment.

Inside its similar, the faint humming of the washing machine, Hyewon's sleeping mumbles through the baby monitor.

Your humming along to whatever songs auto playing on your phone, cleaning up the mountain of dishes from today, swapping with Hyunjin — leaving him to wrangle your hyperactive daughter who consumed nearly her body weight in sugar to bed.

You're off in your own thoughts when you suddenly feel Hyunjin's familiar arms wrap around you, halting your cleaning. Feeling Hyunjin relax into you, conditions you to do the same.

Hyunjin's hands roaming over you, holding onto your stomach keeping you in place for him, feeling his forehead resting on your shoulder.

"Little miss is all asleep." His voice quiet, muffled against your skin. You hum slightly, a small smile on your lips, not yet turning to look back at him.

"How'd you manage that?" In response he simply laughs a little bit, the laugh vibrating against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Bribery, told her we'd take her to the park tomorrow with Siwoo." He presses a soft kiss to the exposed skin of your shoulder blade.

"Is Chan aware of this play date yet?" You hum in amusement awaiting his answer.

He simply mumbles something incoherent into your shirt, tightening his hold on you.

Putting down whatever plate you were washing, focusing off to the side, the small photo on the window sill; You, Hyunjin and Hyewon when she was first brought home.

Hyunjin's eyes following yours, his whole body softening at the memory.

"She was so small.." His voice almost unsteady, the memories flooding back, only feeling like yesterday his family was started.

"Can't believe shes three, soon shes gonna start school, then high school then college —" Your teasing words causing Hyunjin to groan against you.

"Don't start, shes not even out of preschool yet." His words make you soften, knowing he hates the fact shes growing up, his little girl growing up, growing out of being his mini me. (You doubt the dramatic-ness will fade)

"Maybe its time we think about a little sibling for Hyewon, hm? maybe being a big sister will teach her some responsibility." Teasing him even further, though your words lighthearted it sparks something in him. Expecting a witty response about Hyewon not needing to be responsible yet.

When it doesn't come you don't push, instead he turns you around, hands settling on your hips, taking in your slightly dishevelled appearance from the day, makeup slightly smudged around the eyes, lip gloss long gone — still looking utterly ethereal.

"What?" You say slightly amused, biting back a small smile as you look at him. He doesn't respond with words, his fingers moving to trace over your jawline, captivated by you.

You immediately soften under his touch, your hands holding into his shirt, your thumbs running over the fabric.

He leans over, his lips brushing over yours, not capturing them yet, just settling there, enjoying the ghost of you against him.

Your breath hitches slightly, letting him guide you, not pushing forward, just enjoying him in the moment.

When he finally presses his lips on yours its perfect.

Its not fireworks, its consuming.

Your lips move against each others perfectly, knowing each others rhythm, not rushing to anything, just taking in the moment — the rare moments of tranquility, of quiet.

Enjoying the tender moments, melting into his touch, your fingers moving to thread into his hair, not pulling on it just grounding you to him.

When it breaks its only because you cant breathe, both of you catching your breathes, not daring to part further than necessary. Opening your eyes you meet his, already looking at you.

"You're so beautiful." Its a whisper, it would be inaudible to anyone but you — and that's the point, he doesn't need to flash his love for you, shout words from the rooftop, if you wanted him too he would but he doesn't need to.

His love for you is fierce, all consuming and heavy, its presence its him.

His lips catch on yours again, pulling you into another kiss, this time the kiss deepens, lips moving against each others naturally, holding onto each other, trying to pull each other impossibly closer.

Hyunjin guides you instinctively through the house, carefully avoiding furniture and misplaced toys. Pushing through doors until your in your shared room. Guiding you to the bed, breaking the kiss to help you lay down on the bed.

Settling on your elbows, looking up at him, His white shirt stained with paint from the party, his hair slightly messed up from your hold on it.

Quickly he leans over you, effectively caging you on the bed. Pressing sweet kisses over your face with a smile, one to your cheek, your forehead, your nose, your chin then finally a kiss to your lips.

Its all smiles from both of you, as you cup his jaw as his hands hold himself up above you, falling over ontop of you when you shift under him slightly, breaking the kiss with laughter.

"You're an idiot, Hyune." Your words lacking any malice, smiling against his plush lips. Your fingers carding through his hair, just enjoying him in the moment.

"M'your idiot though.." He mutters against your lips, cradling your face then pressing a soft kiss against your lips, then pressing a kiss to your cheek then to your jaw, peppering soft kisses down the curve.

You cant help but scrunch your nose a little but laughing at his comment, instinctively tilting your head back to give him more room, your fingers massaging his scalp slightly, pulling on the lengths when he nips at your neck.

"Cheesy.." you mumble teasing him, you feel him nip at your neck making you yelp a bit pulling him off your neck to meet your eyes.

There's not an ounce of regret in his eyes, smiling wide looking at you, taking you all in.

"You love me for it." He hums, his fingers tracing down your side before dipping under your shirt, his cold fingers against your warm skin making you shiver under his touch.

"I love you despite it, there's a difference." You sigh dramatically, your cheeks hurting from smiling. He watches as you roll your eyes at him huffing in amusement.

Before you can make another snide comment hes moving, moving away from you only to settle above your stomach, pushing his head under your shirt causing you to make a strained yelp or laugh.

"Careful, gonna wake up the princess if you're not quiet." his words muffled from him muttering against your skin. Hyunjin, whos pressing open mouth kisses against your stomach. Your hands move you hold onto his shoulders.

After hes decided hes too impatient he slips out from under your shirt, he grabs your hands pulling you up to your knees with him. That dopey smile adorn on his lips you cant help smile back at him, your arms settling around his neck, your thumb brushing against the skin of his neck.

"You're so beautiful.." He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear it, your expression quickly softens, your movements halting temporarily.

"Always saying saying that, Hyunnie" You tease softly, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

"Always mean it too, so pretty for me even when you don't think so." His words sharp and honest, the air shifting, the tension growing thicker, more intense.

You cant help but moan slightly at his words, which immediately makes him smile wide, teasingly.

His hold on you is tight but not painful, you can tell you'll be bruised on your hips tomorrow but its worth it.

Hyunjin guides you back down till your head hits the pillows, your chest rising from your uneven breathing. Hyunjin cant help but admire you, the way your hair fans out around you, the way your pupils dilate, how you look at him like he hangs stars.

"You're staring." Your soft voice brings him out of his daze, he doesn't respond verbally not trusting his voice to not break, instead he smiles at you.

His fingers trace the hem of your his shirt, you get the memo, lifting yourself up a bit to help remove your shirt, letting it fall to the other side of the bed.

No matter how many times he's seen you like this his eyes never waver. Looking a you like you were sculpted just for him, like you're the most beautiful being created, and to Hyunjin you are.

He takes a deep breath, taking in the sight of you, his fingers stationary on your stomach.

Only when you mutter his name he comes back to reality, smiling sweetly at you before he leans down and presses a kiss to your stomach.

"Remember how beautiful you looked pregnant?" He whispers against your skin, not yet meeting your eyes, fingers grazing the band of your shorts.

"I could barely get my shoes on in the morning, Hyune." you hum in amusement.

"Doesn't mean you weren't gorgeous — god you were glowing, you always have been breathtaking but seeing you carrying my daughter, you looked divine." His words honest, you know that, hes told you hundreds of times — but this time its different, looking at you with something darker in his eyes.

"Whenever i see you with Hyewon all i can think about is how good you are with her, how amazing of a mother you are — how fucking perfect you'd look pregnant again." You cant help the way your breath hitches at his words, unconsciously pressing your thighs together, which of course he notices.

He finally shuts up, deciding you've been teased enough for now.

He kisses down your stomach, putting extra attention on every stretch mark, every freckle and mole. His fingers hook on your waistband, pulling them down torturously slow, kissing every inch of you.

Your skin tingles everywhere he kisses, your fingers lacing in his hair tugging gently, pulling a groan from him which only makes you bite your lip holding back a laugh.

Hyunjin whos less amused, nips the sensitive skin of your thigh, which makes you smack his head slightly, the vibrations of his laugh making you shiver slightly, Hyunjin's hands holding you firmly in place.

"You're such a tease." He sighs dramatically lifting his head from between your thighs to rest his cheek on one of them, his hand soothing the skin of your other thigh, drawing small shapes on it as he looks up at you with a grin.

"Oh I'm the tease? What am i doing?" You huff in amusement, your fingers running through his hair, not able to take your eyes off his.

"Existing." He says simply, dead serious in his accusation.

"My existence is enough to test your sanity?" You cant help but smile at him, enjoying the way his touch feels against your skin.

He simply hums in agreement his movements stopping suddenly. "Can barely contain myself half the time."

"Only half? — id say its more like 25 —" You're words quickly die on the tip of your tongue when you feel his warm breath against your heat.

Hyunjin's nose ghosts you, taking in all of you.

He stills in front of you, you feel his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, faintly hearing him take a deep breath against you. His tongue suddenly swipes up your slit, you can barely process the sudden pleasure before hes diving against your pussy.

Hyunjin's lips attach your clit, sucking on your aching bud with devotion. His tongue darting around, putting pressure on your clit, you cant help the whimpers that flea your lips, holding onto anything you can, one hand settling in his hair pulling on the dark locks, the other scrunching the silk sheets below you.

"Gotta be quiet, baby — don't wanna wake the princess hm?" he murmurs low against your bundle of nerves, his voice creating vibrations against your clit pulling a choked compliant moan from you, biting your lower lip so hard you might break skin.

Taking a sharp breath as his tongue dips from your clit, running through your folds, lapping up all your slick, his nose nudging against your clit with every lick.

You could swear he was enjoying this just as much — if not more than you, moaning desperately into your pussy despite warning you to be quiet. His moans only escalate when you tug on his scalp, groaning into your cunt.

The quiet night interrupted by your joint moans and mindless whispers echoing through the walls, — thankful you don't live close enough to anyone to be bothered.

"Hyunjin —" your breathed moans only fuelling him further, one of his hands snaking across your thigh, his thumb nudging against your sore clit.

Only for him to pull his face away from your cunt to look at you, forcing you to look back down at him — instantly throwing your head back at the sight.

His hair a mess, a sheen of sweat coating his hairline — the bottom half of his face coated in a mix of your slick and his spit, a stupid sly grin plastered with it.

"Missed her so much — been so focused on planning the perfect party for the princess forgot to take care of my girl ~" Fuck hes not even talking to you, you cant help but try and press your thighs together at him talking to your pussy.

His thumb leaves your clit much to your displeasure — whining as you buck your hips up to try and chase his touch. He simply coos at you pressing a soft hiss to your inner thigh, his fingers parting you with a V taking in the sight of you soaked in front of him.

"Gonna stretch you out so good, baby gotta get you nice and ready f'me" Hyunjin presses a final kiss to your clit before you can feel one of his thick fingers prodding your entrance. He's still at your hole, enamoured with how how your clenching around nothing, how you try bucking up to somehow slip his finger in you, pointless but he admires your efforts none the less.

You can barely hold back your moans, your lip sore from biting back. All you can think about is how good he feels — how you desperately crave more.

Hyunjin's eyes darken as he takes you in, the view of your tight cunt sucking in only one of his fingers, letting out a hum in amusement.

You moan as you feel his finger press into you, the slight fullness barely satiating your need for him. Almost like he can tell his finger curls slightly into you, clenching around his digit.

"S'good for me, baby — gonna take another f'me? Hyunjin coos at you, phrasing it like a question knowing damn well you're desperate for more.

You nod vigorously, breathless moans filling the room, fuelling Hyunjin's motivation — eager to please you above his want to tease you endlessly.

You feel a second finger nudge your entrance — clenching around his other finger — soft whimpers, pleading him for more.

You immediately arch at the feeling of his fingers filling you up so good — fingers curling into his hair and the sheets next to you. Breathless moans escaping you, barely able to be mindful of your volume the feeling of him inside you satisfying your need to be close to him.

"Hyune.." You whine quietly, pleading for him to move, your pleas are short lived when you feel him pull out, thrusting his fingers into your tight hole.

His movements are fast but precise, knowing exactly where to angle his fingers to have you wrecked under him.

"Please — ple-please!! — f-fuck Hyunnie t-much..!!" Your words falling short on any meaning, your hips bucking down to meet his thrusts, moaning helplessly around his fingers as the press against that spot only he can reach.

"Taking me so well — fuck,, clenching me so tight even after all this time." he lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes focused on your cunt, how it sucks him in so well.

You can barely process his words — feeling your orgasm approach quickly — the constant thrusts of his long thick fingers, prodding at your gummy spot — his dishevelled appearance — fuck its too much for any sane person.

"Gonna cum over my fingers, muse — god, you're unreal.." Mumbling to himself at this point — you're barely able to contain yourself, your lips bruised from you biting to try and fail holding back your moans.

Hyunjin dips down, lips lips latching onto your aching clit — the final nail pulling your orgasm from you.

His movements only slow, helping you ride out your orgasm, his lips sucking on your slit softly, tongue flicking it pulling strained whines from you.

When he notices your haze fading he parts from your bud, his fingers slowing its thrusts to a halt completely.

you immediately whine, trying with all your strength to try and thrust up to have any sort of friction. Hyunjin simply holds onto your hips, keeping you in place.

Pulling his fingers from your aching cunt, you whine at the loss of him, quickly silencing yourself when you see him put his fingers in his mouth, sucking the digits. Hyunjin moans at the taste of you, his grip on your hip tightening, his eyes never leave yours.

His fingers pull out with a pop, a small devilish smile gracing his lips as he leans over your body, his hand grazing up your side, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss.

Your hands settle on the back of his neck, pulling him down closer, deepening the kiss. Hyunjin nipping at your bottom lip causing you to moan, taking the chance sticking his tongue in your month, his tongue pressing against yours in a heated kiss.

When you part its for a need for oxygen, neither of you wanting it to end, chasing his lips as he presses a faint kiss to you cheek before pulling back completely.

Quickly you forget how to breathe when he reaches for the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head, throwing it to the side. Your breath hitching at the sight of his bare torso, His honey skin adorned with soft freckles from countless trips to the beach with Hyewon — faint marks from previous night, your gaze dropping lower and lower till it focus on the defined 'V' leading to his sweatpants.

"You're staring." He teases barely affecting you, looking up and meeting his eyes finally.

"A lot to stare at, Mr Hwang." You quip back with a smile, a small laugh escaping him as he leans back down, mimicking his actions leaning back down against the mattress.

"Flattery will get you everything Mrs Hwang." He whispers in your ear, a small huff in amusement leaving you.

Pushing him back up, sitting yourself up, your fingers skirting over the waist band of his sweats, his boxers peaking through, smiling to yourself as you look up at him with feigning innocence.

Hyunjin looks away from you, a shakey laugh escaping him as he looks back at you, full of love. "You're unreal."

"You've told me once or twice." you hum, your fingers hooking at the band, slipping both his boxers and sweatpants down enough for him to pull them off, ending up at the foot of the bed.

"Only once or twice? Maybe i need to tell you more." He smiles at you.

He leans back over you, his nose touching yours slightly as his fingers tuck some hair behind your ear, his eyes full and never leaving yours.

"I love you." He whispers softly against your lips, causing you to smile against his.

'Love you more." You whisper teasingly back against his lips.

Hyunjin only pulls back to dramatically sigh, his smile never fading, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Unlikely, muse." He grabs your hands pulling you up to him, his lips attaching to yours instantly.

You melt into the kiss with a sigh, enjoying the quiet intimacy's with him.

Pulling away from the kiss only to press your lips on the slope of his jaw, nibbling at his skin, your fingers squeezing at his biceps.

Pushing him gently against the mattress, falling down with a small huff, a smile still spread on his lips.

Straddling his thighs you take him in under you, the roles reversed.

Noticing immediately his hardened cock twitching against his stomach, your nails dragging along his thigh, Hyunjin letting out small strained sounds, barely holding onto his composure.

Your fingers continue trailing him, scratching down his toned stomach across the small trail of hair leading to his length. Nearly salivating at the sight of his thick cock heavy against his stomach.

Feeling your focused eyes on him he cant help but laugh humorlessly. "Way to make a guy feel nervous, muse."

You hum in response, your hand wrapping around his length, pulling a choked moan from him.

Tightening your grip slightly as your hand moves up and down his cock, your thumb pressing on the sensitive slit of his tip. Pathetic moans leaving his lips, unable to look away from the sight of you with his cock.

Dipping your head to his length, your tongue dips out from your lips, making small kitten like licks on his tip just how he likes it.

Before you can get any further he pulls you off, pushing you back against the pillows, his legs caging your hips.

"What —" You're about to tease him when you notice the flushed look on his face, serious while his eats tinge pink.

'If you went any further i would have been gone before we even started." He says breathlessly, your teasing smile fading as your heart hammers in your chest.

His eyes trained on your chest, your nipples perked from the cold chill in the room, Brainlessly his hands quickly move, his thumb swiping over the sensitive bud.

Your body changed after Hyewon, all parts looking different even years after, but to Hyunjin you've never looked better.

He pulls on your nipple with his thumb and index finger, twisting the sensitive bud, making you whimper. Not leaving the other one aching and unattended he bends down capturing it between his teeth, moaning against the mound.

"Hyune —" you tilt your head back against the pillows, your hand holding onto the back of his head holding him in place against your boob. His fingers halting against your other bud, his full attention on the nipple in his mouth.

His hips grind against your thigh, barely missing your cunt, feeling the heat of him so close but unobtainable, whining from the brushes of pleasure you pull him off your chest, with a groan.

Hyunjin quickly looks up to meet your eyes about to say something that quickly dies on the tip of his tongue when he sees your helpless glossy eyes.

He smiles softly, pressing a quick kiss to your chest before kissing the tip of your nose.

Pulling your thighs apart, settling between them, your legs naturally hooking over his hips.

His hand trails down your side, almost trying to memorised every bit of you, his finger brush over your thigh, his fingers leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

Hyunjin leans over you, effectively caging you in, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping his length a few times — soft groans falling from his lips.

He pulls you closer, lining up with your sopping hole, taking in the sight of you wrecked under him.

Desperate pleas fall from your lips, you try rutting your hips to push him in, only forcing his tip to up against your clit — strained moans leaving both your lips.

Hyunjin cant help but exhale, his restraint slowly fading, feeling your slick coat his cock. One of his hands hold onto your hip, the other resting by you.

Slowly his tip breaches your entrance, immediately whimpering at the weight of him pressing into you. Squeezing around his tip — nearly pushing him out, despite the prep you'll never get used to the size of him.

"Pushing me out, mama, fuck — s'tight for me hm?" his tone trying to sooth you despite his teasing words.

You cant help but moan — squirming around under him as you feel his cock going deeper and deeper.

Feeling so full of him — taking over all of your senses, the taste of his cock — his lips lingering, the scent of his cologne on his pillows the faint pants and moans fleeing from his lips.

The room echos every small sound — from Hyunjin's breathed moans, your sweet whines and the wet slicked sound of him in you.

Your hands grip at his shoulders, nails scratching against his skin — a small hiss escaping his lips. Feeling his hips meet yours when hes fully pressed into is a sensation you'll never grow tired of, the pleasureful stretch of him, unable to tell where he ends and you start.

Faint moans slip from Hyunjin's lips at you squeezing him, moving closer you you, leaning on his elbows for support.

"Not g-gonna last, muse — fuck." His voice breaks, ragged from pleasure — your tight warm walls feeling like heaven around him.

His head dips to lean against your shoulder, leaving wet kisses against your skin. You pull him off your shoulder, capturing his lips in a heated kiss with no rhythm, sucking on his bottom lip.

Hyunjin pulls back with a heavy breath, his adjusting so he can run his fingers through your hair.

When you open your eyes, they immediately meet his dark ones, the small moan that slips out is involuntary as he takes a sharp breath, looking back in your eyes asking if your ready.

When he pulls back you miss the heavy feeling of him in you — instantly taking it back when you feel him thrust deeply back into you. The slow drag of his hips only to thrust into you hard.

The slick sounds of his cock pushing into your tight cunt, the feeling of your walls fluttering around him with every mean thrust. His tip intentionally grazing that sweet spot with every thrust.

"H-hyunnie — fuck!" Your moans raising slightly as the pleasure becomes unbearable, feeling sensitive from your previous orgasms. Hyunjin shushes you with a quick kiss, his lips stationary on yours as his trusts grown less strategic and needier.

"Need you to be quiet f'me, yeah muse? — gonna wake our princess if you're not careful. He smiles against your lips. Despite his words it only urges him to fuck you harder into the mattress. Pulling back from you, his hands sliding down you hips, holding you in place his thrusts quickening.

"J-Just as good as when i had you the first time — fuck maybe even better, so perfect for me yeah? my perfect girl." His praise barely registering to either of you, Hyunjin murmuring incoherently completely overtaken by the feeling of you.

Hyunjin only pushes your body further, hooking your leg over his arm, his thrusts going deeper and rougher — your sobbed moans only serving as encouragements.

"S-so good for me, can feel you everywhere, yeah? Look at you, muse." His breathing even as his cock drills into your pussy.

When you manage to open your eyes you expect to find his meeting yours but no — their focused on your stomach, the small bump of him in you, stretching you out so good. You cant help but squeeze your eyes shut tilting your eyes back as you mewl biting your lip.

The sound Hyunjin makes when you see the bulge hes making in your stomach teeters on a growl.

"Taking me so good, baby ~ fuck look at you —" His hand moves to your stomach — pushing down on the bulge, pulling senseless moans from you.

"Can feel me everywhere, huh baby? — gonna fill you so good, its gonna take, yeah?" You can tell hes getting close, his rough thrusts growing sloppier.

Feeling you clench at the thought makes him laugh breathlessly, sucking air through his teeth, the rough thrusts now with purpose.

"Ohhh~ you like that, hm? Filling you up over and over again till it takes? Have everyone know who you belong to — reminding e-everyone only i can make you feel this good, yeah?" Your moans only fuelling his impending orgasm, his fingers moving to your clit, rubbing harsh figure 8s on the oversensitive bud.

The duel sensation of his mean sloppy thrusts and the sweet relief of your aching clit getting attention makes your orgasm build quickly, Hyunjin mumbling barely audible sweet nothings in your ear pushing you to the break, shaking and clenching hard around him as your orgasms bursts.

Hyunjin follows instantly after you, the feeling of you squeezing him and you moaning his name as you cum.

His movements only slow, helping you both ride out your orgasms together, the intensity of them fading into bliss.

Hyunjin's small thrusts into you only stop when you wince in overstimulation, quickly apologising with a small kiss to your shoulder. Both of you catching your breath trying to calm yourselves.

Hyunjin collapses onto you with a dramatic huff, burying his face into your neck.

You can help but laugh, the air being forced out of you as your husband lands on you. Your shaking hands run through his hair, the roots damp with sweat, humming as you feel his heart beat against yours.

"You're gonna crush me." you tease, your throat sore from your endless moans from earlier.

"You'll be fine." His words muffled against your hair, only for him to sigh sitting up slightly to lean his chin against your chest looking up at you with his signature grin.

"You're ridiculous." Smiling wide at him, your fingers massaging his scalp.

He hums slightly, enjoying the feelings of your fingers in his hair. "You enjoy my ridiculousness." He says matter of factly.

Your smile only softens in response, only then realising that hes still inside you, the feeling not unpleasant at all, comforting almost.

"Get up, need to clean up." you sigh dramatically, Hyunjin only groaning in response, neither of you making any effort to move.

"Keeping you all to myself, just a bit longer." Burying his face into your chest making you laugh.

You smile wide, enjoying the moment; no work, no members screaming, no crying child — just you and him enjoying the small window of alone time.

"I meant it, by the way." He says after a moment looking at you.

You hum absent minded, fingers drawing shapes on his back. "What?"

"Wanting another kid, giving Hyewon a sibling." His words stopping your movements on his back, looking back at him, his eyes already on you, serious.

"Yeah?" You cant help the smile that breaks out on your face, one quickly spreading on Hyunjin's face.

He only nods, confirming. "I think we're ready — plus Won would make a good sister."

You hum, "You mean teaching them how to have you wrapped around your finger and how to milk all their uncles for everything a child could want?"

"Exactly that." His fingers tuck some hair behind your ear.

You take a deep breath, not believing what you're gonna say. "Okay."

Hyunjin perks up at your confirmation. "Okay?" His voice full of excitement.

You nod, the smile making your cheeks hurt but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"I guess its time to get to work." He says with a cheshire grin, before you can even say anything his lips move down your body. Making quick work on his earlier promise.

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3RACHA MEAL 🍽 — 6TH FANMEETING 'STAY IN OUR LITTLE HOUSE' // 260404 (© rachaflex)