why is everyone comparing my dilf husband player 218 to that loser player 333âŠ
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why is everyone comparing my dilf husband player 218 to that loser player 333âŠ

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feminism hates to see me coming when it comes to these guys
god i might be unsafe with them but i don't care. characters like this are hot. i need them BIBLICALLY
Berlin IS NOT the bad guy you all believe he is đ€
àłââ· young and beautiful ËËËê° đŠą ê±
â°â†cho sang-woo x wife!reader headcanons
ÂĄ!being cho sang-wooâs wife and the mother of his children would includeÂĄ!
a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! this story is set in one in which sang-woo did not participate in the squid game!
â°â†you met cho sang-woo shortly after moving to south korea for university, a change that felt both exciting and overwhelming as you navigated a new country, culture, and language. he was older by over two decades, and already well-established, but what stood out was his willingness to help when no one else would. he was the first person to offer help, whether it was explaining local customs, recommending places to visit, or simply showing you how to get around the bustling city. over time, you found yourself drawn to his intelligence and quiet charm, while he couldnât help but admire your determination and work ethic. though feelings grew between you, he hesitated to pursue anything. his age, his position, and the way others might perceive it held him back, until one evening, seeing you laugh with one of his business associates stirred an unfamiliar jealousy. it was that day he decided he could no longer let his doubts keep him away from you. one tentative date became another, and soon he realized he couldnât imagine life without you. when he proposed, it was grand and heartfelt, affectionate words filled with sincerity and a shimmering marquise diamond ring that left you breathless
â°â†as a senior banker at joy investments, he was a man of considerable wealth, known for his meticulous taste and generosity. when you began planning the wedding, he insisted that no expense be spared, telling you to choose anything your heart desired, venues, dresses, flowers, all of it. yet, you surprised him by requesting something modest, intimate, and elegant, surrounded by your closest friends and family. it wasnât the lavish wedding he had imagined, but he agreed immediately, because your happiness was his priority. the ceremony took place on a lovely winter day, a serene snow-covered backdrop that felt almost dreamlike. you wore a gown of delicate lace and flowing silk, understated but breathtaking. as you walked toward him, for one of the rare times in your life, you saw sang-woo, your composed, polished husband, unable to hold back his emotions, his eyes misting as he whispered how fortunate he was to say you were his wife.
â°â†his motherâs disapproval was the only dark cloud over your union. she pictured her son marrying someone more mature, someone of wealth and prestige, a perfect complement to his status. you, young and from a different background, didnât align with the future she had foretold for him. sang-woo deeply respected his mother, but for the first time, he went against her wishes, defending you against her cruel insults and snide remarks. although, the tension was palpable, and to keep the peace, he made the difficult decision to limit how often the two of you interacted. though it hurt him, he believed protecting you from her criticism was more important than maintaining appearances.
â°â†your honeymoon in paris was something out of a storybook, a city you had dreamed of visiting for years. he spared no expense, booking a suite with a view of the eiffel tower and planning luxurious dinners at michelin-starred restaurants. each charming outing was magical, from strolling along the seine hand in hand to sipping coffee at quaint cafĂ©s. despite your lack of interest in designer brands, he couldnât resist spoiling you, filling your wardrobe with elegant dresses, shoes, and jewelry from the most exclusive boutiques. he loved seeing you wear them, the way they highlighted your natural beauty, and though material things never mattered to you, his joy in giving made you happy to indulge him. it was during that trip that you realized how deeply he cherished you, not for how you looked or the labels you wore, but for who you were and how you made him feel.
â°â†domestic life began shortly after your marriage, a chapter marked by sophistication and routine. sang-woo continued his demanding career at joy investments, managing high-profile clients, navigating the complexities of stocks and portfolios, and keeping the firmâs reputation impeccable. you, on the other hand, settled into the role of a housewife. though you had earned your degree in literature, your dream had always been to live a life of comfort, dreaming to create a warm home and eventually building a family. the estate sang-woo provided was grand yet cozy, a blend of modern luxury and understated grace, perfectly mirroring the life he anticipated for you both.
â°â†despite his serious and composed demeanor in the office, sang-woo was tender and loving at home. mornings began with him pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving for work, a soft ritual that made you smile. evenings were punctuated by tender affection, his arms wrapping around you while you cooked, his chin resting on your shoulder as he asked about your day. you became his sanctuary, the one person who could ease his troubles after the stresses of work. in your presence, he shed the weight of his career, revealing a side of himself reserved only for you. to him, you werenât just his wife, you were his heart, his home, and the person who gave meaning to his otherwise complicated and burdensome life.
â°â†yet, nothing in life was perfect. sang-wooâs devotion to his career often consumed him. he was a workaholic to his core, and while you admired his ambition, it came at a cost. late nights at the office became common, and heâd frequently stay later than expected with little warning, leaving you waiting at home, dinner cold on the table. business trips overseas became routine, and there were mornings when you woke to find his side of the bed already empty, a brief note on the nightstand apologizing for having to leave. the loneliness crept in slowly, settling akin to an unwanted guest in your posh estate.
â°â†whenever you voiced your feelings, the conversations often turned heated. you told him how much you missed him, how the empty spaces in your life couldnât be filled with flowers or jewelry, no matter how extravagant. yet, despite the arguments, his apologies always came, his voice soft and regretful, his eyes filled with guilt. heâd arrive home with bouquets of your favorite flowers or delicate pieces of jewelry that sparkled like promises, as though material gestures could mend the strain in your marriage. while you appreciated the thought, it wasnât enough to replace his presence, the comfort of having him by your side. still, you stayed, believing in the love you shared and hoping that, someday, heâd learn to balance the life you built together with the career that often stole him away.
â°â†it wasnât long after settling into married life that you discovered you were expecting your first child. the news brought a visible change in sang-wooâs attitude and priorities. once so deeply consumed by his career, he began to shift his focus to you and your growing family. he cut back on his grueling overtime shifts, started declining overseas business trips, and even made the effort to reduce his smoking, something you had been urging him to do for years. suddenly, attending every prenatal appointment with you and ensuring you were comfortable and cared for became his top priorities. while his care was thoughtful, it sometimes bordered on overbearing, his constant checking on you, his insistence on preparing every meal himself, and his planning for the babyâs arrival left little room for you to so much as breathe. but his concern came from a place of genuine love and devotion, which made it impossible for you to be upset with him. he personally oversaw the construction of the nursery, situated just across from the master bedroom, carefully selecting every detail. though he openly expressed his desire for a son, you reassured him that youâd be happy no matter what, and deep down, you knew he would be, too.
â°â†pregnancy took a toll on you physically, leaving you exhausted and often unwell, which only added to sang-wooâs worry. as your due date approached and the strain on your body grew, he made the decision to take paid leave from work to stay home with you. it was a rare and unexpected move for someone so career-driven, but to him, nothing mattered more than your health and the safety of your baby. he doted on you endlessly, even when you protested that you were fine. he rarely left your side during that final, difficult trimester.
â°â†after nine long months, you gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. the day he saw her, sang-wooâs face lit up in a way you had never seen before. you had worried he might be disappointed not to have the son he had hoped for, but all those thoughts disappeared the second he saw you holding your daughter. the exhaustion in his eyes melted away as he gently cradled her in his arms, overwhelmed by the sheer joy of becoming a father. to him, she was perfect in every way, and he promised to be the best father he could be.
â°â†as time passed, sang-woo returned to work, though he made a conscious effort to balance his career with fatherhood. he rearranged his schedule to ensure he could be home in the evenings, often taking over baby duties to give you some much-needed rest. he would rock your daughter to sleep, bottle-feed her in the middle of the night, despite his initial clumsiness. seeing him so involved only deepened your love for him.
â°â†for the first time in years, you saw sang-wooâs mother again. after the tension she had caused in the past, he had kept her at a distance to protect your feelings and sanity. however, for the sake of your daughter, you allowed her into your home. while her attitude toward you remained cold and judgmental, her demeanor softened the moment she held her granddaughter. she doted on the baby in a way that made the visit bearable, and despite her lingering disapproval of you, she seemed determined to be part of the childâs life.
â°â†there were instances when your insecurities crept in, especially as you adjusted to motherhood. sang-woo worked with many beautiful and graceful women, and their flirtatious comments or longing gazes at him often left you feeling inadequate. but sang-woo, perceptive as ever, always reassured you. heâd tell you, in his gentle, earnest way, that no woman in the world compared to you. âtheyâre nothing to me,â heâd say, the two of you laying in bed, your head resting on his chest. he told you of how he would ignore their salacious advances with indifference. âyouâre the only woman i see, the only one i want.â his words, paired with the devotion in his eyes, reminded you just how deeply he loved you, silencing any doubts you had.
â°â†sang-woo adored your daughter, showering her with gifts and affection from the moment she was born. nothing was too extravagant when it came to her happiness, he filled her room with every toy imaginable, dressed her in designer gowns that sparkled like a princessâs, and even had a custom-built playground constructed in the backyard. though his generosity was touching, you often worried that this endless indulgence might cause her to grow up materialistic or take such luxuries for granted. when you gently brought this up to him, he would smile kindly and say, âi only want her to have the best.â despite his protests, you encouraged him to invest in her future as well, suggesting academic tutors alongside the dollhouses and dresses. he quickly agreed, hiring the finest educators to foster her growing mind, proving once again that he wanted her to have not just material wealth but a strong foundation for success.
â°â†just a year after your daughter was born, you gave birth to a son, the child sang-woo had initially hoped for. this second pregnancy was far easier on you than the first, and while he didnât need to take as much time off work, sang-woo was just as attentive and loving as ever. every evening, he would return home from the office, setting aside his briefcase to embrace you, his hand instinctively resting on your growing belly as if to remind himself of the life you carried. âi can hardly believe youâre real at times,â he would whisper, kissing your forehead with adoration. when your son finally arrived, sang-wooâs pride and joy were unmatched. though he was thrilled to finally have the boy he had dreamed of, his love for both his children could not be described in mere words, they were the light of his life.
â°â†as the years passed, your life became a comfortable and fulfilling routine. mornings were spent preparing breakfast together, the sound of your childrenâs laughter filling the house, while evenings were reserved for family dinners and quiet moments in the living room. your daughter was preparing to start school soon, and the thought left you with mixed emotions. as a mother, it saddened you to see her take her first steps into the wider world, while sang-woo, ever the protective father, was filled with worry. âsheâs still so little,â he would mutter, clearly uneasy about letting her out of his sight. meanwhile, your son, still too young for school, remained at home, following his father around the house with wide, admiring eyes.
â°â†professionally, sang-wooâs career flourished. over the years, he had received numerous promotions and had become a well-respected name in his industry. he began to consider starting his own investment firm, an ambition he had steadily nurtured since his younger days. he often sought your opinion on the matter, valuing your insight as much as your adoring support. no matter where life led, you knew your place would always be by his side, as a loving wife and mother to the family you had built together. together, you and sang-woo had created a life of love and stability, one that neither of you would trade for anything.
a/n: let me know your thoughts or if you have any requests! also i promise more cho sang-woo fanfictions are coming soon, i am prioritizing requests as i write these for you all!! đ€
Muscle Memory
Trainer! Changbin x Reader
Tags: Gym AU, Explicit sexual content (oral, penetrative sex, multiple positions), Size kink and light dom/sub dynamics, Sexual teasing and public tension, Soft aftercare and comfort, Strong language, Adults only (18+)
Word count: 4.9k
Summary: Your gym crush? Heâs your instructorâdisciplined, insanely hot, and definitely off-limits. But you? Youâve had enough of limits. After weeks of teasing him with suggestive workouts and tighter-than-necessary gymwear, you finally push him past his breaking point⊠and what starts as heat turns into something deeper, something raw. Changbin never meant to catch feelings. You never meant to fall this hard. But now neither of you can pretend this isnât real.
This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
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You never used to be this consistent with gym routines.
But that was before he started leading the Thursday classes.
Bang Chanâs new hire.
âSeo Changbinâheâll be taking over strength and mobility.â
Youâd walked in that first day wearing your usual set, nothing specialâonly to lock eyes with him across the mat and feel your whole existence shift three inches left. You swore something chemical detonated in your chest. He was all muscle and deep voice and focused gazeâtoo built for his own good, arms like stone and veins that looked like they pulsed to the beat of whatever filthy thoughts you shouldnât be thinking.
You came back the next week. Then the one after that. Then it became a problem.
Because Seo Changbin didnât just exist in your peripheral anymore.
He started noticing you too.
It was subtle at first. A glance too long. A correction that required both hands. His fingers curling around your waist to fix your formâlingering just enough to make your breath catch. His knee brushing yours when he knelt beside you. The edge in his voice when he said your name. Youâd tease it out more with each session: a tighter crop top, a lower squat, a stretch that had you folding forward right in his line of sight.
And today?
You wore the set that always made you feel dangerousâblack ribbed leggings, high compression, no underwear. And the top, god. Low-cut. Almost unfair.
You knew he saw it the moment you walked in.
He stumbled over his own cue mid-demo.
Coughed. Regathered.
Didnât look you in the eye when you passed him your water bottle during cooldown.
You held your plank longer than anyone. Made sure your back arched just a little when you stretched into cat-cow.
And he broke. You felt it.
His gaze burned holes into your skin from across the room.
You caught him after classâcornered him while he was wiping sweat from his face with the towel draped around his neck, all flushed cheeks and heaving chest, pretending he hadnât just gotten half-hard from watching you do yoga.
âChangbin,â you said sweetly.
He turned, caught mid-sip from his water bottle. âYeah?â
âI think you missed one of my poses during cooldown,â you murmured, tilting your head. âDidnât correct my form like usual.â
His throat moved. Slowly. He was staring at your mouth.
âYou didnât need it,â he said, a little too hoarse.
âOh,â you smiled. âBut I kinda like when you touch me.â
You watched his jaw clench.
His hand tightened around the bottle.
And thenâjust like thatâhe bolted. Some half-mumbled excuse about helping Chan with a form check. You let him go. Smirking.
He was losing it.
And you were going to break him.
âž»
You didnât see Changbin for a week after that.
Not because he disappearedâno, you still spotted him in passing, training other members, talking to Chan, running laps on the treadmill like he wasnât dragging a whole damn forest fire behind his eyes. But he was avoiding you. And not well.
Youâd walk into the studio and watch him tense. He stopped correcting your form altogether. Didnât look at you during the warm-up, barely nodded when you asked questions. But when you caught him off guardâmid-rep, distractedâhis gaze would drift. Drop.
To your thighs. Your waist. Your chest.
Your mouth.
And then heâd flinch, like he was pissed at himself for noticing, and turn away again.
So by the next session, you decided to push him just a little harder.
You started your little game during hip bridges. On your back, knees bent, slow thrusts up and down with your glutes tight, core flexed. You knew exactly what you looked like, and you werenât the only one.
You peeked mid-set and caught him flat-out staring, towel hanging limp in his hands. His lips parted, eyes locked on the subtle curve of your inner thighs.
When your gaze met his, he didnât even try to play it off this time.
You gave him a lookâplayful, bitingâand rolled your hips once more, slower this time. His jaw flexed. You swore you heard him mutter something under his breath and saw him adjust himself behind the clipboard he held like a shield.
You nearly lost your rhythm from how hard you wanted to laugh.
Gotcha.
After class, you lingered. You stayed longer than usual, stretched slower, until everyone else cleared outâexcept him. You moved into a split pose by the mirrors, your back arched, hands on your hips, breathing steady but thick with anticipation. His footsteps crept closer behind you, and you didnât even have to look up to know he was standing there.
Watching.
âYou do that shit on purpose,â his voice rumbled low, right behind you.
Your heart skipped.
âDo what?â you asked, playing innocent.
âYou know exactly what,â he said, more growl than sentence now.
You rose slowly, turning to face him. Your eyes flicked downâyep, hard again. Straining under his shorts, thick and clearly not small. Your mouth went dry for a second.
âI thought instructors were supposed to keep their cool,â you teased, dragging your fingers up your side.
Changbin didnât laugh. He didnât move either.
Instead, he looked down at you like he was wrestling with a hundred demons. Like one word from you could snap something heâd been barely holding together.
âYou think I donât notice?â he said tightly. âYou think I donât see what youâre trying to do to me?â
âIâm not trying to do anything to you,â you said, stepping closerâuntil your chest almost brushed his. âBut if I wasâŠâ
His breath hitched.
âIâm sure you wouldnât mind.â
You watched him freeze, expression unreadable, muscles flexed like he was holding back an earthquake.
Then you brushed past him. Slowly. Casually.
Walked straight toward the exit.
And didnât look back.
âž»
You werenât trying to be obvious.
Okay, maybe you were.
But in your defenseâhow was anyone supposed to ignore someone like Changbin? The man was a walking wet dream, and worse, he was professional about it. Always respectful, always focused, never even hinting at the amount of muscle he was packing under those damn black compression shirts. He kept his distance, barely let his eyes wander, and never responded when you pushed a little too far.
Which only made you want to break him more.
You continued teasing with the workouts, of course. Suggestive stretches. Innocent questions delivered with loaded looks. Maybe a few accidental moans during squats. You thought for sure heâd snap eventuallyâbut no. Changbin was frustratingly composed. Unshakable. Even when he adjusted your posture with those big warm hands and his breath brushed your cheek, he stayed cool.
Until that Friday evening.
The gym had just closed early for a maintenance update, and youâd lingered too long in the locker room, scrolling your phone, procrastinating your walk home. When you finally stepped outâhoodie slung low, gym bag over your shoulderâyou nearly ran into him.
Changbin.
He looked surprised to see you, hand halfway in his jacket pocket, keys dangling from his fingers.
âYouâre still here?â he asked, brow lifting.
âDidnât realize it was that late,â you smiled, a little breathless. âWere you waiting for me?â
He blinked. âNo. I justââ
âBecause if you were,â you stepped closer, grinning, âthatâs kinda hot.â
His jaw clenched. âI wasnât.â
You tilted your head. âWant to walk me home?â
He hesitated. For a heartbeat, you thought youâd pushed too farâbut then he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair.
âYeah. Alright.â
The walk was quiet at first. Evening breeze curling under your hoodie, city lights flickering on like a slow wave. You made small talkâasked him about his playlist, his leg day routine, whether he actually enjoyed yelling âtwo more repsâ when he knew damn well your legs were jelly. He loosened up a little. Even laughed.
But the tension still buzzed between youâthick and electric. Every time your fingers brushed. Every time you stepped too close. Every time his gaze dropped to your lips and snapped back up like heâd caught himself mid-sin.
âSo,â you said as you reached your block, âare you always this responsible?â
âWhat do you mean?â
You grinned. âKeeping it professional. Saying no to hot gym girls.â
He blinked, clearly caught off guard.
âI didnât say no.â
That got your attention. âDidnât you?â
âIâve just beenâŠâ he trailed off, then looked at you with something unreadable. âTrying not to be stupid.â
You stepped closer. Your building loomed behind you, quiet and still, but you barely noticed it.
âI want you to be a little stupid.â
His breath hitched. His knuckles went white where they gripped his keys.
âYou donât know what youâre asking for.â
âSure I do,â you said softly, leaning in. âIâve been asking for it since my third session.â
He looked down at you like he was about to cave. Like whatever dam heâd built inside himself was starting to crack.
But instead, he stepped back.
âGo inside,â he said roughly.
Then he turned and walked off, fists clenched at his sides, like he was the one being hunted.
And you?
You stood there grinning like a devil.
Because that crack?
It was getting wider.
â
The next session at the gym? you definitely wore that set for him.
The leggingsâbarely opaque, clinging to your ass like paint. The sports braâone size too small, stretching high on your ribs and lifting your chest with every breath. Even the perfumeâlight, sweet, just enough to linger when you walked by.
It was his shift today, and you came for the kill.
You caught him watching you twice.
Once during warm-ups, when you sank into a wide downward dog in front of the mirrors, your back arched, ass high. He was across the room, talking to someone elseâbut his eyes found you. They always did. And when they did, they lingered.
The second time was during leg presses. You moaned. Quietly. Maybe too quietly to be realâbut loud enough to make him glance up like he felt it in his spine. His jaw ticked. His eyes darkened. His clipboard creaked under his grip.
You smiled through every rep.
By the time the gym started emptying out, you knew youâd won.
He looked like he was hanging by a thread.
You âforgotâ your water bottle. Let the staff clear out. Hid in the dim back hallway until the door buzzed shut behind the last person.
The lights were low. The music off. The building locked.
And you knew where Changbin went after a long shift.
You padded barefoot down the hallway to the menâs locker room, bag slung over your shoulder, heart pounding with a wicked rhythm. You heard the water firstâshowers hissing in the tiled silence. Then the sound of movement. Low, steady breathing. Wet footsteps. A door clanking shut.
You pushed the door open like a sinner entering church. Steam rolled into your face.
The locker room door creaked shut behind you.
You paused for a secondâbreath steady, heartbeat not so muchâand listened. The showers were still running, muffled by steam and tile. You followed the sound, bare feet padded soft against the concrete floor, body already thrumming with heat from everything that led to this.
Every stretch. Every flirt. Every smirk you threw across the gym just to see his jaw tighten. You wore that stupidly tight set on purpose. Bent over right in front of him when he was mid-set, made eye contact while you licked sweat from your upper lip like a fucking sin.
Youâd been playing with fire.
And you came here to burn.
The fog hung heavy in the air, humid and warm. You stepped around the corner, and there he wasâChangbin. Alone. Water streaming down his body, steam clinging to his skin, muscles taut and gleaming. Head tilted back, eyes closed, hands braced against the wall.
You took a breath and said, cool as ever, âShame youâre wasting all that hot water alone.â
He flinched, turned, and stared. âWhat theâ? What are youâ?â
âLocker room was unlocked.â You smiled, slow and wicked. âNot my fault.â
âJesus Christ,â he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. âYou canât be here.â
You stepped closer anyway. âWhy not? Afraid someone might catch us?â
He was silent. Barely breathing.
You tilted your head. âOr afraid youâll do something if weâre alone?â
His chest rose sharply. His eyes dropped to the tight gym shorts still clinging to your hips. You hadnât changed. Hadnât planned to.
âIâm trying to be professional,â he said, voice strained.
âAnd Iâm trying to get fucked,â you countered. âGuess someone needs to lose.â
Something in him crackedâvisibly. His hand dropped from the shower wall, and suddenly he was movingâgrabbing a towel, wrapping it low around his waist, stomping past you like he needed space to breathe.
You followed.
By the time he reached the bench, you were already behind him, fingers slipping around his waist, palms dragging over his abs. He froze.
âDonât pretend you havenât been thinking about it,â you whispered against his shoulder blade. âYou stared every damn time I bent over.â
âYou did that on purpose.â
You grinned against his skin. âAnd now I want my reward.â
He turned fastâgrabbed you by the waist and shoved you back against the row of lockers. The impact was firm, not rough, and your body sparked with electricity.
âYouâre insane,â he breathed.
âLittle bit.â
âYouâre not even trying to deny it.â
You smirked. âWhy would I? Look at you. Youâre a walking wet dream.â
He let out a low, wrecked groan and kissed you. It was messy, frenzied, starved. Tongues clashing. Hands fumbling. He shoved your sports bra up, dragged your shorts and underwear down in one go.
âFuck,â he growled when he looked down at you, already dripping. âYouâre serious.â
âIâm wet just from watching you lift weights, Changbin. You have to know what you do to me.â
He shoved the towel off, and your jaw dropped at the sight of him.
ââŠHoly shit.â
He grinned darkly. âProblem?â
You bit your lip, eyes dragging slowly back up to his face. âNot unless you think I canât take it.â
He growledâliterallyâand pushed you down onto the bench. One knee came up beside you, hands firm as he guided you back, lined himself up, andâ
âOh my Godââ
He sank into you inch by inch, and you were already gasping, grabbing at his shoulders. He was so big, and it felt like you were being split in the most satisfying way.
âThat good already?â he whispered in your ear, voice ragged.
âYouâreâfucking huge,â you choked out, hips twitching up. âNo wonder you strut around like that.â
He laughedâdeep and smugâand started thrusting. Hard, sharp, deliberate strokes that had your back arching off the bench.
âIs this what you wanted?â he panted. âStretching you like this in the locker room? Anyone could walk inââ
âGod, yesâfuck, Changbinâjust like thatââ
You clung to his shoulders, legs wrapped tight around his waist as he pounded into you. Every inch of him filled you so completely, you could barely think. You loved how much effort he needed just to hold back.
âYouâre taking it so well,â he groaned. âI thought Iâd have to ease you in.â
âI donât want slow,â you hissed. âI want to feel it. Every second. Every inch.â
That sent him over the edge.
He hoisted you up mid-thrustâcarried you across the locker room like nothingâand sat on the bench with you straddling his lap. Your thighs burned, but you were too far gone to care.
You rode him hard. Fast. His hands gripped your ass, guiding your bounce, groaning your name into your neck while your nails clawed at his shoulders.
âI canâtâfuckâIâm closeââ
âCome on, baby,â he urged. âLet me feel it. Show me how good I fuck you.â
You slammed down one last time and shattered, clenching around him with a long, high cry. He cursed loudly and followed, filling you deep with a low, primal growl that echoed off the walls.
You both stayed like that for a minuteâsweaty, panting, trembling. Your forehead pressed to his. His arms wrapped tight around your back.
No words. Just breaths. Just heat.
Just muscle memory.
The silence that followed was heavier than anything either of you had lifted in the weight room.
Your body slumped against his, legs still wrapped lazily around his waist. His arms stayed tight around you, lips brushing your temple like he wasnât ready to let go. Neither were you.
But slowly, eventually, reality started to creep inâsweat cooling on your skin, the faint ache settling in your thighs, the uncomfortable stickiness between your legs.
He shifted first, murmured, âCome on. Letâs get you cleaned up.â
You nodded, dazed, and let him help you up. Your legs buckled the second your feet touched the ground.
He chuckled softly. âCanât walk?â
âNot when you fuck like that,â you muttered, rolling your hips as you stretched, still feeling him inside you.
He grinned and tugged you toward the showers. Steam was still curling out through the tiled corridor, water still running. He led you into the far stall and switched to a warmer stream, pulling you under it with him.
The water hit your back and you sighed, letting the heat soak into your bones. Changbin reached for the soap, lathering it between his hands before gently running them over your arms, your chest, your waist. His touch was so gentle nowâso carefulâlike he was trying to memorize every curve heâd just ruined.
âYou okay?â he asked softly.
You nodded, leaning into him. âBetter than okay.â
He smiled, then kissed your forehead.
It shouldâve stayed sweet.
It shouldâve stayed soft.
But then your eyes dropped.
And you saw it againâhim. His cock, still half-hard, thick and glistening, water dripping off the veins that curved along its length. You felt your mouth water instantly.
You didnât even think.
You dropped to your knees on the wet tile, palms flat against his thighs, and looked up at him through soaked lashes.
âFuckâwait, are youââ
You licked up his shaft before he could finish the sentence, slow and deliberate.
His head fell back against the tile with a sharp thud. âShit.â
You smiled around him as you took him deeper, the water streaming down your back, your lips stretched wide. He was still sensitiveâhis whole body twitched the second your tongue swirled over the tip.
âIâfuckâdonât think Iâm gonna last if youââ he hissed when you hollowed your cheeks and bobbed faster. âYouâre seriously trying to kill me.â
You pulled off with a pop, gave him a slow stroke with your hand. âYou look too good when youâre wrecked.â
He didnât give you a chance to say anything else.
Changbin hauled you to your feet, spun you around, and slammed you back against the stall wall. Your gasp echoed off the tile, legs already parting in instinct.
âIâm not done with you,â he growled against your ear. âYou donât get to drop to your knees, suck me off, and not pay for it.â
âThen fucking punish me,â you whispered.
And he did.
Bent you forward, one arm braced beside your head while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise. He slid into you in one rough thrust, making you cry out against the wall, water crashing over both of you.
âGod, youâre tight like thisâstill drippingââ
You pushed back against him shamelessly, loving the stretch, the heat, the filthy slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the empty locker room.
âYou just canât get enough of me, huh?â you panted. âIs this how you handle distractions at the gym?â
âThis is exactly how I handle them,â he groaned, pounding into you harder. âMake them regret teasing me.â
You laughed, breathless and wrecked, as he fucked you through the streamâdeep, filthy strokes that had your nails dragging down the tile, your moans bouncing off the walls.
âFaster,â you begged. âHarder. Donât stop.â
He didnât. He couldnât. He gripped your hips, slammed into you with reckless rhythm, and you swore you saw stars when you came againâloud, shattered, toes curling on the slick floor.
Changbin cursed violently and spilled inside you moments later, burying himself to the hilt as his breath shook against your shoulder.
The water kept running.
But neither of you moved. Not for a while.
When you finally turned around, panting and trembling, he looked like heâd just blacked out and come back to life.
You kissed himâsoftly this time, slow and thankful.
âStill trying to be professional?â you whispered against his lips.
He groaned and pressed his forehead to yours. âFuck no. You ruined that foreverâ
You ended up wrapped in a towel that barely stayed up.
Changbinâs towel situation wasnât much better, especially not with the way you kept teasing him. Every time he looked down at you, water still dripping from your hair, that smug little grin on your lips like you knew he was trying not to stare againâhe had to breathe in through his nose and count to ten.
Ten wasnât enough.
âStop looking at me like that,â he warned as he dug through his locker for a shirt.
âLike what?â you asked innocently, propping a hip against the bench, your towel sliding dangerously high on one thigh. âIâm just standing here. Youâre the one with the visual kink, Coach.â
He groaned. âDonât call me that. Not when we justââ
âFucked like animals?â
ââhad sex, yes,â he muttered, throwing a spare shirt at your face.
You caught it, laughing. âWow. Romantic.â
âIâm trying to keep my sanity,â he said, running a hand through his wet hair. âYouâve already taken the rest of my dignity.â
You pulled the oversized shirt over your head, and he swallowed hard when it hit mid-thigh.
ââŠYou okay?â he asked after a beat, tone softening.
You turned toward him, smile fading just a little. âYeah. I think so.â
âYouâre sure?â
You nodded. âI mean⊠unless you plan on ghosting me now, in which caseââ
âIâd rather get crushed under a barbell.â
You laughed again, but it wasnât the same breathless sound from earlier. It was quieter. A little unsure.
He crossed the space between you slowly. âHey,â he said gently. âThis wasnât just sex for me. I know I didnât say it before butâlook, Iâve been trying not to touch you for weeks. Every stretch, every move, every tight little outfit you wore just to mess with meâŠâ
You grinned. âYou noticed?â
He huffed. âI noticed everything. You walk into my class and suddenly I canât remember a single routine I planned. Iâve never been that distracted in my life.â
You stepped into him again, looping your arms around his neck, your voice a soft purr. âSo now that youâve had a tasteâŠâ
âDonât tempt me,â he whispered, hands landing on your waist, warm and steady. âIâm barely holding on as it is.â
âThen donât hold back,â you said simply. âYouâve already ruined me, Binnie.â
The name made his eyes darken instantly.
âSay that again.â
You leaned up to whisper it, your lips brushing his ear. âBinnie.â
He groaned. âYouâre evil.â
You smiled. âAnd you love it.â
â
The problem with sleeping with your gym instructor â was that you still had to see him every day.
And he still had to pretend he wasnât thinking about bending you over every flat surface in the building.
Which wasnât easy when you wore that matching black set againâthe one that hugged every curve like a second skinâand then bent over during deadlifts like it was your goddamn mission to kill him.
Changbin dropped the dumbbell.
Literally.
âFocus,â his co-instructor muttered from behind him.
Impossible, he thought.
You turned to look at him with the smuggest smile, as if you knew. As if you planned it. That tight smirk, the flick of your ponytail over your shoulder, the sway of your hips back to the matâyou were driving him insane.
And it didnât help that you texted him at night like this:
you: was thinking about earlierâŠ
you: how you didnât even take your time with me
you: how fast you bent me over that bench and lost your mind
you: what if i want it slower next time?
Heâd read that one five times, alone in his bed, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood.
And then came the photo. A mirror selfie in a robe, one hand tucked between your thighs, your eyes daring him.
you: this what you wanted to ruin?
He threw his phone.
Only to scramble and pick it up again because holy fuck he needed to respond.
binnie: come over
binnie: donât wear anything under that robe
You didnât.
â
Changbin opened the door like heâd been pacing behind it all night. The second you stepped in, he grabbed youâhis kiss rough, desperate, like heâd been holding back way too long. You barely got a word in before your back hit the wall and his mouth was at your neck, growling low:
âYou have to stop teasing me at the gym.â
You pulled his shirt over his head, your fingers grazing the ridges of his abs, then up over those delicious, broad pecs.
âOr what?â you whispered.
He squeezed your ass in both hands. âOr Iâm gonna fuck you in the weight room next time. Right in front of the damn mirror so you can watch how cockdrunk you get.â
Your breath caught, your knees going weak.
âAnd donât give me that look,â he muttered, dragging his mouth across your jaw. âYou love making me lose control.â
You laughed, gasping as his thigh slid between yours. âBecause you look so hot when you do.â
His hands were on your robe now, tugging it open, letting it pool around your ankles.
âThen lose it with me, Binnie,â you whispered. âRight now.â
He lifted you like nothing, like muscle memory, like heâd done it a thousand times before. Only now, he had you in his arms with no audience, no distractionsâjust you, dripping wet, moaning into his neck as he carried you to the bedroom and laid you down like you were the heaviest weight heâd ever wanted to lift.
The room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway, but you could still see the way Changbin looked at youâlike he couldnât believe you were real. His lips hovered over your inner thigh, just barely brushing your skin as he whispered something against it.
You didnât catch it.
âWhat was that?â you breathed, fingers already twisted in the sheets.
He glanced up at you, a slow smile tugging at his lips. âSaid Iâm obsessed with the way you taste.â
Your breath hitched. âThen come back up here and show me.â
âNope,â he murmured, dipping his head again, voice muffled against your skin. âYou teased me for weeks. Iâm taking my time now.â
And fuck, did he ever.
It wasnât like the first timeâfast, wild, losing control.
This was slow destruction.
He devoured you. Took you apart with his mouth, fingers digging into your thighs to keep you wide open, pulling you to the edge only to let you breathe before dragging you back down into it. He watched you the whole time, eyes dark, curls damp with sweat, lips slick with you as he licked and sucked and praised.
âYouâre unreal,â he whispered. âSweetest thing Iâve ever tasted. How the hell did I survive without this?â
You came twice on his tongue before he finally crawled up your body, kissing your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone.
âChangbin,â you whispered, still trembling. âIââ
âI like you.â
It fell out of him like a breath heâd been holding forever.
You blinked.
His brow furrowed, panicked. âShit, I meanâif thatâs not what this is, I get it. I justââ
You cut him off with a kiss. Gentle. Soft. Way more terrifying than any filthy thing youâd done all night.
âI like you too,â you said quietly. âBeen going to that gym for months hoping youâd just look at me.â
âI always looked at you,â he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours. âI thought you were too good for me. I didnât think I had a chance.â
You smiled, thumb brushing over the curve of his cheek. âYou really think Iâd wear leggings that tight for anyone?â
He laughed, burying his face in your neck. âFuck, youâre gonna ruin me.â
You held him close, still dizzy from the aftermath. âSo⊠what now?â
âI take you on a proper date,â he said, suddenly determined. âNo gym, no workout clothes, just you and me. Dinner. Maybe a walk. Something soft.â
You raised an eyebrow. âSoft?â
He smirked. âThe date. Not what I plan to do to you after.â
Your legs clenched instinctively, and he noticed.
âGod, youâre dangerous,â you whispered.
âSo are you,â he said, and kissed you again like it was the start of something real.
Because it was.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Authors note: This fic focuses on tension, longing, and the slow shift from lust to something much more intimate. Expect drawn-out build-up, emotional smut, and Changbin absolutely losing his mind over you (in and out of the gym).
If you loved it, please give it a like and comment or even reblog!!! Let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist!!
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EVERMORE.
PROLOGUE
Bangchan x reader x Hyunjin. (s,f,a)
EVERMORE MASTERLIST
Synopsis: When your daughterâs wedding weekend brings you, a former it-girl and Chris, a legendary rockstar back under one roof, the two of you must navigate old memories, unexpected feelings, and the chaos of family. As laughter, love, and a hint of scandal unfold, you're both reminded that some love stories donât endâthey just change shape. (16k words)
Author's note: You guys asked for Hyunchan so here you go. As always, hope you enjoy it and don't forget to share your thoughts after âĄ
Rock Royalty Welcomes a New Heir: Chris Bang Becomes a Father October 13, 2000 â by Robert Yang. Move over, guitars and groupiesâBang Theoryâs wild-hearted frontman Chris Bang is now a dad. The 23-year-old rockstar and his longtime partner, beloved 90s "It Girl", welcomed their first child into the world early this morning at a private hospital in Seoul. A healthy baby girl named Tigerlily was born at 5:47 AM, weighing in at 3.1 kg, just hours after Chris wrapped his set at the Soundscape festival. âHe cried. Both of them did,â a nurse from the delivery room said. âHe looked more nervous than on stage.â Despite being known for his stage dives, pyrotechnics, and tabloid-worthy antics, insiders say the famously untamed musician turned into âa complete marshmallowâ the moment he held his daughter for the first time. âShe's got his nose and her motherâs everything else,â a source close to the couple shared. The pair has yet to release an official photo, but fans are already flooding forums with love and name guessesâthough Tigerlily, a bold and whimsical choice, feels perfectly on brand for the iconic couple. No word yet on whether this new chapter means a break for Bang Theory, but one thingâs certain: Chris Bang just had his loudest, most life-altering debut yet. Rockstar? Yes. But now⊠Dad.
-
Tigerlily came into the world on a rainy Tuesday in October. The sky cracked open like a dramatic cue, thunder shaking the windows of the hospital room while you clutched the sides of the bed, barely old enough to drink but old enough to know your life was about to change forever.
You were twenty-two. The industry's darling, all soft glam and sharp edges, gracing every magazine cover and walking every red carpet with a gaze that dared people to look twice. Chris had just come off a whirlwind tour with The Bang Theory the rock band that had somehow become the voice of a generation overnightâgritty, golden, and chaotic in a way only the 90s could pull off.
He didnât make it in time. Missed the delivery by two hours, stuck in a storm somewhere between the airport and the hospital. But when he burst through the hospital doors, hair damp and chest heaving, the world slowed down for just a second.
And thenâTigerlily.
Born screaming, like she already knew how loud the world could be and wasnât afraid of it. She had your mouth and his eyes and the softest tuft of dark hair, like velvet. She stared at you both like sheâd been waiting lifetimes to meet you.
She was born with the kind of name that sounded like she came from a song. And maybe she did. Bang Chan insisted on itââSheâs going to be a force,â he said. âShe needs a name that doesnât sit quietly.â
And she never did.
For the first five years of her life, her world was a tour bus. Not playgrounds or preschool, but green rooms and stadium seats. You learned how to swaddle her with one hand and fix your eyeliner with the other. Sheâd nap through soundchecks and dance barefoot on stage during rehearsals, curls bouncing as she clutched her little stuffed bunny.
She loved the hum of the road, the neon-lit nights, the way her dad would scoop her up mid-song and let her press her tiny hands over his guitar strings. She called every band member âuncle,â and by the time she was four, she could identify a Fender Strat by sight.
Sometimes, you worried she was missing out on normal things. But then you'd see her curled up in Chanâs lap as he strummed lullabies that werenât written for the charts, or the way her eyes lit up when the crowd sang back to him.
She was safe. She was loved. And she was extraordinary.
And now, she stands under the golden light of a university auditorium, dressed in a powder blue gown, clutching her art degree in hands that once clung to your hair as you sang her to sleep.
You sit in the front row, surrounded by strangers, with pride ballooning so hard in your chest you think you might float right off the seat. Chris isnât hereâtouring again, or producing, or lost in some other corner of the world. Youâre used to it by now. So is Tigerlily.
Still, you clap until your hands sting, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.
She didnât just survive the whirlwind you brought her intoâshe bloomed in it. And in that moment, you realizedâyou didnât just raise a daughter. You raised a woman who knew exactly who she was.
You wait just outside the auditorium, clutching a bouquet of Tiger Liliesâjust like her name. The kind she used to doodle in the margins of her notebooks as a kid once she knew she is named after the flowers. The crowd spills out around you in waves: parents with cameras, graduates in gowns, professors in velvet hoods, all buzzing with joy and relief. But you only have eyes for her.
And thenâthere she is.
Tigerlily spots you instantly, weaving through the crowd with that effortless grace she mustâve inherited from someone else entirely. Her gown flows behind her like a cape, and when she reaches you, she throws her arms around your neck without a word.
You breathe her in. She still smells like vanilla and that earthy perfume she never leaves the house without. You hold her a little tighter than you mean to.
âIâm so proud of you,â you whisper into her hair, blinking fast against the sting in your eyes.
She pulls back with a bright, tear-glossed smile. âTulips,â she says, beaming. âYou remembered.â
âI always remember.â
You hand her the bouquet, watching as she presses her nose into them with a soft sigh. For a second, you think youâve made it through without a cloud. But thenâ
âDid Dad text you?â
The question comes gently, not accusingâjust hopeful. You hesitate.
You shake your head. âNo. He couldnât make it.â
Tigerlilyâs smile falters for the briefest second, but she nods like she was already bracing for it. She always was good at bracing. âYeah,â she murmurs. âI figured.â
You reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear the way you used to when she was five and nervous about her first ballet recital. âHeâd be here if he could. You know that, right?â
She shrugs, looking down at the tulips. âI guess.â
You give her a soft nudge with your elbow. âHeâs probably somewhere feeling miserable about it. You know how dramatic he gets. Iâm sure heâs got his face buried in his hands, whispering lyrics about lost time into a notebook.â
That earns you a smileâsmall, but real.
âAnyway,â you continue, linking your arm through hers. âWe have a reservation at Monarch. I even bribed them for extra truffle fries.â
âYou never bribe restaurants,â she says, narrowing her eyes at you.
âWell,â you say, leading her toward the sidewalk, âyou only graduate from college once. And weâre celebrating you. No distractions, no missed moments.â
Tigerlily squeezes your arm, resting her head on your shoulder as you walk.
âThanks, Mom.â
You smile softly. âAlways, my little cub.â
-
The restaurant is glowing, lit with soft amber lights that reflect off the polished windows and make everything feel a little more golden than real life. You guide Tigerlily through the front doors, her gown bunched in one hand, bouquet in the other, cheeks still rosy from all the congratulations.
âYou really booked Monarch?â she whispers, wide-eyed. âYou never let me eat here growing up.â
âYou never had a degree before,â you murmur with a small smile. âBesides, I figured you deserved something special tonight.â
The host greets you with a polite nod and gestures toward the back corner booth, the one with the plush velvet seats and the view of the city through the tall windows. Tigerlily starts forward, then pauses.
Someoneâs already there.
Heâs sitting casually, fingers tapping against a water glass, hair pushed back like he just walked off a photo shootâstill effortlessly cool after all these years, even with the faint silver near his temples that heâs stopped trying to hide.
Chris.
Tigerlily stops in her tracks, staring for a beat too long.
âDad?â
Chris stands up slowly, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. âHey, little cub.â
Her bouquet hits the table with a soft thud as she launches toward him.
You lean against the doorway, arms crossed and grinning as you watch her collide into his chest with all the force of a girl who may have been preparing herself for disappointment, but never quite stopped hoping.
âYou told me he wasnât coming!â she shouts over her shoulder, arms still around her dadâs neck.
You shrug, stepping further into the room. âWell, itâs called a surprise for a reason.â
Chris laughs as he holds her tighter, eyes closing for a second like heâs breathing her in. Like the years heâs missed are pressing against him all at once.
You stand quietly by the table, taking them inâthe way her arms wrap around him like she did when she was small and sleepy, always reaching out for one more hug, one more story, one more night tucked between the two of you on a too-small tour bus mattress.
She always was a daddyâs girl. You murmur it to yourself, too soft for anyone to hear. âShe still is.â
And for a moment, you forget all the complications. Forget the past, the missed birthdays, the growing distance. All you see is your daughter, glowing with joy, exactly where sheâs supposed to be.
Dinner arrives in warm, fragrant wavesâplates of truffle fries, roasted duck, handmade pasta that glistens under the golden lights. The booth feels like its own little world, wrapped in velvet and candlelight and the soft murmur of clinking glasses in the background.
Chris sits across from you, Tigerlily nestled between you both like sheâs still your little girl, even if sheâs outgrown everything but her stubbornness. Sheâs glowing with the kind of joy that makes her look younger and older all at once.
âSo,â Chris says, setting down his fork and looking at her with that proud, slightly overwhelmed expression he wears every time he sees her after too long. âWhatâs next, cub?â
Tigerlily leans back, reaching for her water glass. âIâve got a few freelance gigs lined up. Illustration work. Book covers, a couple zines.â
Chris lets out a low whistle. âLook at you. Graduating and conquering the world.â
âI learned from the best,â she says, her eyes darting between the two of you.
You smile but stay quiet, sipping your wine and letting them talk. Chris starts telling her about the bandâhow The Bang Theory is planning a small reunion tour, something acoustic and intimate, âjust for the old fans,â he says, though you know he still lives for the stage.
âHow about you?â he asks, his eyes landing on you. âAre you working on something right now?â
You glance at him, caught slightly off guard by the way his attention shifts so effortlessly from Tigerlily to youâgentle, but direct. Like he hasnât asked in years, but heâs always been curious.
You nod slowly. âYeah. A new book,â you add quickly, chuckling. âIt's the same old thing with me.â
Chris grins, eyes crinkling in that way that used to undo you. âOf course,â he murmurs. âYouâd make it sing, no matter what.â
Before you can respond, he reaches outâjust casuallyâand tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Itâs a simple gesture, something heâs done a thousand times, but it feels different now. Familiar, yes. But also fragile. Like it belongs to another version of yourselves.
You glance down, and Tigerlily watches it all with a knowing little smile curling at the edge of her lips. She doesnât say anything. She just picks up another fry, pops it into her mouth, and mutters around her grin, âYou two are so obvious.â
You both look at herâstartled, defensive, amused.
âWhat?â Chris says, eyebrows raised.
âI didnât say anything,â she sings, tossing you a wink. âJust... observing.â
You and Chris exchange a glanceâbrief but loaded.
And for a flicker of a moment, something shifts. Not loudly. Not urgently. Just... there. Still alive. Still quietly beating.
Not wanting to let it carry you on, you shift the attention back on him as curiosity taps at your shoulder.
âSo,â you say, tilting your head and setting your glass down gently, âhowâs Rowan?â
âBusy,â Chris answers a little too quickly and you didn't expect less since you're asking about his wife but you notice his expression shiftsâjust slightly. âSheâs working on a TV series right now.â
âThatâs wonderful,â You say as you nod, reaching for your glass of wine. âHow about Riley?â
âSheâs good,â he says, running a hand through his hair. âFourteen now. Which is⊠a whole thing.â
You smile softly. âPuberty, huh?â
âPuberty. Mood swings. Existential dread. Sheâs got this journal she guards like it's the nuclear codes. One second sheâs hugging me and the next Iâm the reason for global warming.â
You laugh, leaning back into the velvet booth. âSounds like a riot.â
Chris sighs, but thereâs affection beneath it. âSheâs just at that age where everything feels like the end of the world, you know? Iâm trying, but⊠I donât think she knows where to put me right now.â
You nod gently, your fingers curling around the stem of your wine glass. âAt least you didnât have to go through that phase with Tigerlily,â you say with a teasing smile. âShe skipped all the angst and went straight to being perfect.â
Tigerlilyâs jaw drops, scandalized. âExcuse me?â
Chris laughs, leaning forward in anticipation.
âMom,â Tigerlily says with a warning tone, narrowing her eyes. âDonât you dare bring upââ
ââthe blue eyeliner phase?â you interrupt sweetly. âOr the time you tried to cut your own bangs and cried for three hours?â
Chris nearly chokes on his water, face lighting up. âOh my god, yes!â he laughs. âI remember that! She came with a hoodie on and wouldnât take it off for two days!â
Tigerlily groans, burying her face in her hands. âThis is actual betrayal.â
Youâre laughing now, shoulders shaking as you reach over to pat her hand. âYou were still cute. Even when your bangs were... slanted.â
Chris grins across the table, eyes sparkling. âSheâs always been cute.â
Tigerlily lifts her head, glaring at you both. âYou two ganging up on me is a hate crime.â
You share a look with Chrisâsoft and easy and full of old inside jokesâand for just a second, the world feels like it used to: three of you on the road, laughing about eyeliner and heartache, living out of suitcases and old songs.
Tigerlilyâs still grinning though, even through her mock-offense. âGod,â she mutters, shaking her head. âI forgot what itâs like when you two are in the same room.â
The plates are nearly empty now, forks slowing down as conversation takes over. Tigerlily is laughing at something Chris said about a funny episode happened at a show, and you're quietly sipping whatâs left of your wine, content to just watch them exist like thisâbright and close and connected.
Then Chris checks his watch with a sigh, the familiar shift in energy settling over the table. The end of the night.
âIâve got to head out,â he says gently, looking toward Tigerlily with a reluctant smile. âEarly flight to Tokyo. I'm helping this band with producing.â
Tigerlily pouts, her bottom lip pushing out the way she used to when she was five and didnât want him to leave for tour. âAlready?â
He opens his arms, and she rises without hesitation, burying herself in his chest like sheâs still that little girl on the road, climbing into his bunk after shows. âCome here, little cub,â he murmurs into her hair, voice muffled but warm.
His arms wrap tight around her, his hands moving gently up and down her back in slow, comforting strokes. You watch from your seat, quiet and still, as he leans down to whisper something in her earâsomething only for her. Her eyes flutter closed, lashes brushing against her cheeks, and she nods without speaking.
He presses a kiss to her temple before pulling back. âIâm proud of you,â he says, with a smile that breaks a little at the edges. âAlways.â
Tigerlily wipes quickly at her eyes. âText me when you land.â
âPromise.â
Chris turns to you next, his expression softening even further. He steps closer, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. âThank you,â he says. âFor tonight. For putting this together. I didnât know how much I needed this.â
You wave a hand, trying to brush it off like itâs nothing. âIt wasnât a big deal.â
But when your eyes meet, thereâs something thereâunspoken but tangible. Like a thread still connecting you, stretching quietly between what you were and what you still might be. Youâre the one to look away first, afraid if you donât, youâll forget yourself. Again.
He opens his arms, and this time itâs you stepping into them. The hug is brief, practiced, safeâbut the warmth is real. His scent is still the same, something familiar and distant that tugs at the back of your throat.
âTake care,â you say softly, pulling back.
âYou too,â he murmurs, before walking away.
You and Tigerlily step outside together just in time to see his car pull away from the curb, red taillights fading into the evening traffic. The moment stretches in silence until Tigerlily leans her head on your shoulder.
You wrap an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. âItâs moments like this,â you murmur, âthat make me wish I couldâve given you the kind of family you deserved. One that stayed whole.â
Tigerlily doesnât move for a second. Then she lifts her head, frowning a little. âBut I did get a family,â she says. âJust a different kind. And I wouldnât trade it for anything.â
You hold her a little tighter, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze to ground you and in that momentâstanding in the glow of the city lights, hearts full of love and lossâyou let yourself believe that maybe different wasnât always a bad thing.
-
The cursor blinks accusingly at the top of your blank document, waiting for you to stop procrastinating and start delivering something brilliant. You rub at your temples and glance at the email from your agent againâthird reminder this month.
Hey, just checking in again on that chapter draft. Hope everything's alright. Deadline's creeping upâlet me know if you need anything!
You sigh, reply with a vague promise of "soon" and click out of the inbox. But right as you're about to close your browser, something catches your eye.
A headline.
The Bang Theory Frontman Chris Bang and Wife Rowan Announce Divorce After 15 Years of Marriage
Thereâs a photo of them beneath the headlineâRowan in oversized sunglasses, Chris beside her, jaw tight. They look distant. You don't even need to read the article to know that smile on his face is the one he wears when heâs pretending everythingâs fine. Still, you click.
The article is full of vague statements from publicists and âsources close to the couple.â Nothing scandalous. Just the usualââgrowing apart,â âamicable,â âfocused on co-parenting their daughter, Riley.â
Youâre halfway through skimming the quotes when your phone suddenly rings, the sharp sound startling you so much your mouse skitters across the desk.
âHello?â
âHi, Mom!â Tigerlilyâs voice is bright, a little rushed, like sheâs walking fast somewhere. âHey, is it okay if I bring someone over for dinner tonight?â
âOf course,â you say instinctively. âAnyone I know?â
Thereâs a pause. âNot yet. But you will.â
Your brow lifts. âShould I be nervous?â
Tigerlily laughs. âNo. Maybe. A little. But mostly no. Love you!â
Before you can ask anything else, she hangs up. You stare at your phone for a second, then set it down beside your laptop.
The articleâs still open. You look at the photo of Chris again. His expression is guarded, tired. You havenât spoken in monthsâmaybe longer. Thereâs a number in your contacts that hasnât been used in too long. Just his name. Just âChris,â like thatâs all heâs ever needed to be.
You scroll down and hover your thumb over it. For a moment, you just sit there, staring at his name, thumb resting above âCall.â You wonder if heâs okay. If Rileyâs okay. If he needs someone to talk to. If he even wants to hear your voice again.
But then your hand drops and you press the power button on your phone, letting the screen go dark. Some things are easier left in silence. You push the article aside, shut the laptop, and head for the kitchen.
Thereâs dinner to cookâand someone new to meet.
-
Youâre just setting down the last of the cutlery when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands on a kitchen towel and head for the front door, already guessing itâs Tigerlily. She never remembers to text when sheâs close.
When you open the door, there she isâwearing a grin that says be cool, Momâand beside her, a tall man with floppy brown hair, a shy smile, and arms full of flowers and wine.
âHi, Mom,â she says sweetly. âThis is Julian.â
âHi,â he says quickly, stepping forward and offering the flowers. âItâs such an honor to meet you. I mean, youâreâI know who you are. Iâve seen your old interviews. Your film stuff. Youâre even more beautiful in person.â
You blink, pleasantly amused, and take the flowers with a smile. âOh, is that so?â
He nods, a little too eagerly.
With a small smirk, you take a step closer to him, lowering your voice just slightly. âYou know⊠Iâm not nearly as beautiful up close.â
Julian lets out a breathy little laugh, shoulders going stiff as his cheeks flush. âIâI mean, I think you definitely are. I mean, itâs not just your face. I mean, not justââ He throws a helpless glance at Tigerlily, whoâs already rolling her eyes.
âJulian,â she cuts in dryly, âstop flirting with my mom.â
âIâm notâ! I wasnâtââ He stammers, then finally gives up and laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. âOkay. Maybe just a little.â
You chuckle, stepping aside to let them in. âWell, come in, both of you. The foodâs warm, the wineâs breathing, and apparently, I still have some star power.â
Tigerlily snorts as she kicks off her shoes. âYou love it.â
You wink at her. âOf course I do.â
The dining table is cozy, the food still steaming in its dishes as the three of you settle in. Conversation flows easily at firstâsmall talk, compliments about the meal, and the occasional sarcastic nudge from Tigerlily when Julian tries too hard to impress.
âSo,â you begin, picking up your wine glass, eyes darting between the two of them. âTell meâhow did you two meet?â
Tigerlily doesnât miss a beat. âAt an art exhibition. He was standing in front of a piece I hated and we started arguing about it.â
Julian grins. âI maintain that it was a brilliant statement on digital isolation.â
âIt was a pile of tangled wires and a single desk lamp,â she counters. âBut apparently, thatâs all it takes to find love.â
You laugh and tilt your head. âAnd how long have you been dating this tortured art soul?â
âFour months,â Tigerlily answers, her voice dipping into something soft, almost shy.
You hum thoughtfully, then turn to Julian with a gentle smile. âHow old are you, Julian?â
Before he can even open his mouth, Tigerlily pipes up again, âHeâs only a few years older than me, mom.â
You lift an eyebrow. âYou sure youâre not his spokesperson, sweetheart?â
She flushes, biting her bottom lip as Julian chuckles beside her.
You nod, still looking at Julian. âAnd may I know what do you do?â
Again, Tigerlily jumps in, âHeâs a data analyst.â
You slowly blink at her, lips curling into a knowing smile as you turn your attention fully on Julian. âWell, with a job like that, Iâm sure Julian can answer my questions himself.â
Tigerlily lets out a sheepish laugh, covering her face with one hand. âSorry. I justâhabit, I guess. Go ahead, interrogate him. Just⊠please be nice.â
You laugh softly, giving her hand a quick pat. âDonât worry, honey. I only interrogate the ones I like.â
Then you look back at Julian, folding your hands on the table like a queen giving audience.
âSo, Mr. Data Analyst,â you say, eyes twinkling. âTell me everything. Start with your worst trait and work your way up.â
Julian gulps dramatically, already smiling, and the table bursts into gentle laughter.
-
Youâre scooping sorbet into little bowls when you feel Tigerlilyâs presence beside you, her hand already reaching for the berry compote you made earlier.
âNeed help?â she asks.
You nod. âYou read my mind.â
The two of you move in sync, falling into an easy rhythm as she spoons sauce and you add mint leaves for garnish. After a moment, you glance toward the dining room where Julian is sipping his wine, politely waiting.
âHeâs a little serious, your Julian,â you say lightly, nudging her with your elbow. âHe always seems⊠nervous. A bit rigid.â
Tigerlily rolls her eyes. âHeâs just shy, Mom.â
You smile knowingly. âHeâs the complete opposite of your usual type.â
âOkay, ouch,â she retorts, though sheâs clearly amused. âMaybe Iâm growing up.â
You chuckle, bumping her hip playfully. âIâm not saying itâs a bad thing. I can tell you fancy him. Youâve got that stupid little twinkle in your eyes.â
âOh my Godââ she groans, face turning red as you slide a bowl toward her and bump your hip against her again.
The soft music playing from the living room hums a dreamy melody, and without warning, you start dancing along to it, swaying your hips as you plate the last dessert.
Tigerlily watches in horror. âPlease stop.â
You throw her a wink. âWhat? Iâm not trying to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend.â
âYes, you are!â
You let out a cackle, spinning once with your spoon in the air like a microphone. âYou didnât say I couldnât entertain him.â
Tigerlily practically begs, âMom, please, Iâm trying to keep some mystery in this relationship!â
âFine, fine,â you say, finally setting down the spoon. âIâll stop torturing youâfor now.â
You hand her the last plate, then glance at her gently. âDid you know about your dad and Rowan?â
Tigerlily nods, not surprised. âI'm honestly surprised that their marriage lasted that long.â
You hiss. âTigerlily Bang.â
She nonchalantly shrugs in response. âWhat? Iâm just being honest.â
You give her a look. âHave you called him?â
She hesitates. âIâm going to visit him next weekend. Iâm⊠introducing Julian.â
You pause for a moment, then soften. âBe nice to him, okay? It probably wasnât easy to him. Maybe just give him a call before thatâask if heâs okay.â
Tigerlily stays quiet, pressing her lips together. Then she nods, her voice soft. âOkay.â
You slide an arm around her shoulder and pull her in, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. âGood girl.â
Tigerlily leans into you for a moment. The kind of lean that says sheâs still your little girlâeven now. And then youâre back at it, nudging her with your hip again. âNow come on, sing with me. You know this part!â
âNo, no, noâMom!â
But sheâs laughing as you start twirling, and eventually, she gives in, half-singing the chorus while the two of you finish plating desserts, moving in sync like the good old days.
Just as youâre setting the final plate down with a flourish, you hear someone clear their throat. You both turn.
Julian is standing at the kitchen doorway, blinking. âIâuh. Should I come back later?â
You and Tigerlily look at each other. Then you beam.
âShe made me do it,â Tigerlily says instantly.
âSure she did,â Julian grins.
-
At the end of the night, you walk them to the front door, the last of the dishes soaking in the sink and the music now reduced to a soft hum in the background. The night air is cool when you step outside, a gentle breeze brushing past as you follow Tigerlily and Julian to the car parked along the curb.
Tigerlily turns to you first, her eyes soft and glassy in the porch light. âThanks for the lovely dinner, Mom.â
âOf course,â you say, pulling her in for a long, grounding hug. You squeeze her tighter than usual, feeling the familiar comfort of her arms wrapped around youâstill your little girl, even with the grown-up job and the boyfriend waiting by the car. âI love you.â
âLove you more,â she mumbles into your shoulder.
You step back, brushing her hair from her face like you always do, and she gives you that shy smile she used to have when she was caught sneaking snacks before dinner. Then she walks over to the passenger side, leaving Julian standing awkwardly at the bottom of the steps.
âThank you again, maâam,â he says, wringing his hands slightly.
You give him a look, amused. âMaâam makes me feel ancient.â
He swallows. âRight. Sorry. I meanâthank you for having me.â
You step forward, resting a hand lightly on his arm. âYouâre welcome, Julian. And for what itâs worthâŠâ You pause, smiling. âYouâve made quite an impression tonight.â
He exhales a laugh, relieved. âThatâs good to hear.â
âDrive safe, okay?â
âI will,â he says, nodding a little too eagerly.
You step back as he gets into the car. Tigerlily waves at you through the window, and you wave back, your arms folding over your chest as you watch the headlights blink on. They pull away slowly, the car disappearing down the quiet street.
You stay there for a moment on the porch, your fingers brushing your elbows, listening to the stillness of the night settling in around you and even though itâs quiet, your heart feels full.
You close the door behind you and lean your back against it for a second, letting the silence of your home settle over your shoulders. You walk into the living room and glance at your phone on the coffee table. You hesitate, then reach for it.
Your thumb hovers over Chrisâs name in your contacts.
You check the timeâtoo early to be asleep, too late to know what heâs up to. Probably pacing around his house with his guitar strapped to his chest, or lying on his couch with the TV on and his mind elsewhere.
Still, before you can talk yourself out of it, you press call. The line rings once. Twice. A third time. You shift your weight, ready to hit âendâ whenâ
Click.
âHello?â
You blink at the sound of his voice, low and familiar through the speaker. âGuess what?â you say, your tone light, almost teasing.
âWhat?â he asks, curious.
âYour daughter just brought her boyfriend over for dinner.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. âShe what?â
You laugh. âHis nameâs Julian. Very polite. Very nervous. He looks like heâd rather face a firing squad than meet me.â
Chris groans. âGreat. Thatâs exactly the kind of guy whoâd try to steal my daughter from me.â
âSheâs not being stolen, sheâs dating.â
âSame thing.â
You smile to yourself, curling your legs under you on the couch. âTheyâre going to visit you next weekend. Be nice.â
âDefine nice.â
âChris.â
âOkay, okay,â he sighs. âIâll give him a chance. But Iâm not promising I wonât make him sweat a little.â
You chuckle. âThatâs your job, I suppose.â
A silence stretches between you, not uncomfortableâjust weighted with history. You take a breath before saying, âSo I uh... I saw the news.â
Another pause.
âI was going to call earlier,â you continue, gently. âBut I didnât know if youâd want to talk. Are you okay?â
Chris lets out a quiet breath. âIâm⊠getting through it.â
âHowâs Riley handling it?â
âSheâsâŠâ he trails off, searching for the right words. âShe looks okay, but I don't know.â
You hum in agreement. âCheck on her once in a while to let her know you're there if she wants to talk about it.â
âYeah, I will,â he mutters, sounding defeated.
âYou know,â you say with a small, lopsided smile, âat least your second marriage lasted longer than ours.â
Chris chuckles, the sound softer this time. âLow bar.â
âYou set it, not me.â
Thereâs a quiet moment again. Then your voice softens. âI mean it, Chris. If you ever need to talk, or vent, or scream into the phoneâIâm here, okay? As much as I hate it⊠youâre still my daughterâs father.â
He exhales slowly, and you can hear it through the phone, like something heâs been holding in is finally slipping out.
âI miss it,â he says suddenly.
You blink. âMiss what?â
âThis,â he says simply. âTalking to you.â
You swallow. The lump in your throat arrives fast, uninvited. âI should let you rest,â you say quietly, clearing your throat before your voice can crack. âItâs late.â
âYeah,â he murmurs. âThanks for calling.â
âAnytime.â
You hang up before the silence turns into something else. Something too close. Too familiar. You set the phone down and lean your head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
And for a while, you just sit there bcause sometimes, missing someone is quieter than you expect.
-
Summer sunlight spills through your kitchen windows, casting warm, golden streaks on the hardwood floor as you pack the last of your sunscreen and sunglasses into a tote bag. The hum of cicadas fills the air from outside, and you can already hear Tigerlilyâs voice carrying from the living roomâteasing, excited, just a little chaotic, as always.
Julian stands nearby, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, his hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts. Heâs always been a little stiff around you, still nervous after all this time, but today⊠it feels different. Extra twitchy.
âHey,â he says quietly, catching your attention just as Tigerlily calls out that sheâs running to the bathroom to reapply her sunscreen.
You turn to him, eyebrow raised. âEverything okay?â
âCan Iââ he clears his throat, gestures toward the back door. âCan I talk to you for a second? Just⊠out there?â
You eye him for a beat, curious, then nod and follow him onto the back porch. The breeze is warm, but there's a nervous chill rolling off of him.
He rubs the back of his neck, eyes flitting toward the floorboards. âI, um. I wanted to ask you something.â
You fold your arms loosely, head tilting. âOkayâŠâ
âI know this might seem fast,â he begins, eyes finally meeting yours, âbut Iâm going to propose to Tigerlily today. On the boat. Iâve been planning it for a while.â
You blink. The words hang in the summer air like a firework frozen mid-explosion. Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come right away. You stare at him, heart swelling and squeezing all at once.
Julian continues quickly, hands half-raised in panic. âI know weâve only been together for a little over a year, but I love her. Sheâs everything Iâve ever hoped for, and I want to build a life with her. And IâI wanted to ask your permission, before anything else.â
It is fast. But youâve seen the way she looks at him, how he looks at her. The way they orbit each other like two stars pulled by gravity stronger than reason. Youâve watched them fall in sync like itâs the most natural thing in the world. And heâs never once made you doubt his intentions.
You smile softly, eyes going a little glassy. âWell,â you begin gently, âyouâve been nothing but a wonderful boyfriend to my daughter. And you clearly adore her.â You pause, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. âSo yes. You have my blessing, Julian.â
His shoulders drop in visible relief and he lets out a small, nervous laugh. âThank you. Really. That means the world to me.â
Just then, the door opens behind you, and Tigerlilyâs voice cuts through the moment. âWhat are you two doing out here?â
Julian spins on his heel a little too fast, and you clear your throat quickly, your brain scrambling for the first believable thing. âJulian was helping me, uh⊠figure out the sprinkler. Itâs acting weird.â
She narrows her eyes. âThe sprinkler?â
âYep,â you nod, way too quickly. âSuper weird. Total mystery.â
Julian gives a stiff little smile, playing along. âWe, uh, think itâs the pressure valve.â
âOkayâŠâ she says slowly, clearly not that interested. âWell, come on. Letâs go. The boatâs not going to wait for us.â
You grab your bag and follow her out the door, heart still racing a little from the moment you just shared. Julian gives you a grateful glance as he opens the car door for Tigerlily.
And as you sit in the passenger seat, watching the two of them exchange playful banter and knowing glances on the way to the dock, something in your chest softens.
Tigerlily is happy. Thatâs all youâve ever wanted.
-
The dock stretches out before you like a ribbon of sun-bleached wood, groaning faintly beneath your steps. The sea sparkles under the sun, dazzling and blue, dotted with boats and the occasional flash of seagulls flying over the sunny sky. Julian walks ahead, a few steps in front of you, leading the way to his family's boat.
He turns around as you reach the boat, climbing down to the edge and holding out a hand. âHere, let me help you guys on.â
Tigerlily climbs on first, holding onto the railing before turning back to you with a grin. You pause, just for a second, taking in the image of herâsunlight in her hair, smile wide and easy, laugh lines already forming around her eyesâand something about it makes your throat tighten.
Julian offers his hand to you next. âYou okay?â he asks softly.
You nod, pressing your lips together as you take his hand.
âYeah,â you say, stepping onto the boat. âMore than okay.â
Tigerlily helps you with your bag, the two of you settling in as Julian introduces you to the rest of the guests on board. He offers his hand again as he helps you up a narrow stair to the upper deck, guiding you through the boat with gentle ease. âCome on, let me give you the grand tour.â
You follow him with a soft chuckle, brushing your hair away from your face as the wind picks up. The boat is beautifulâsleek, well-kept, definitely not the kind of thing you expected to find yourself on this summer.
He leads you into a cozy lounge area, where his parents are seated on a cushioned bench, sipping drinks and chatting quietly. They both rise when Julian gestures toward them.
âMom, Dadâthis is Tigerlilyâs mom.â
His mother greets you first with a warm smile, her hand extended. âWeâre so happy to finally meet you. Thank you for joining us today.â
You take her hand and return the smile, nodding. âThank you for having me. Itâs a beautiful boat.â
Julianâs dad nods along. âJulianâs told us a lot about you,â he says kindly. âYou raised a wonderful daughter.â
You laugh lightly, brushing off the compliment. âShe pretty much raised herself, honestly.â
You move on to another corner of the deck where a younger girl sits with headphones half off her ears.
âThis is my little sister, Maude,â Julian taps her shoulder, and she pulls them off, blinking up at you with instant recognition.
âOh my God,â she says before she even stands. âYouâre her. I knew you looked familiar.â
You blink, a little caught off guard. âHer?â
âHer, as in you,â she insists with a grin. âYouâreâwowâyouâre even more beautiful in person. My girlfriend, Alexa, is going to freak.â
Before you can respond, sheâs already pulling her phone out. âLex!â she calls. âCome hereâcome meet Tigerlilyâs mom!â
A second later, a tall girl with red curls appears from below deck, raising a brow. âWhatââ
âSheâs right here,â Maude says, practically bouncing. âIsnât she stunning?â
You press a hand to your chest, laughing shyly as you look away. âOkay, okay, I think thatâs enough of that,â you say. âYouâre all going to make me too self-conscious to stay on this boat.â
Fortunately, Julian swoops in, hand landing lightly on your shoulder. âAlright, you two, quit scaring my girlfriend's mom,â he teases before turning to you. âCome onâfront deckâs clearing up. Letâs relax a little.â
You nod gratefully, and he guides you to the front of the boat where cushioned seats curve around the bow. Tigerlilyâs already lounging there, hair whipping in the breeze, sunglasses perched on her nose.
Julian hands her a kiss on the lipsâquick, sweetâand tells her, âIâm getting us drinks. Be right back.â
He disappears down into the cabin again, and the sound of the water takes over.
Tigerlily turns to you, pulling her sunglasses up into her hair. âSee?â she says. âEveryone loves having you here.â
You roll your eyes playfully, folding your legs beneath you as you settle into the cushions. âTheyâre being polite.â
âTheyâre being real,â she insists. âEspecially Maude. I think sheâs about to print out your Wikipedia page and frame it.â
You laugh, and she grins wide.
âAnd especially me,â she adds with a meaningful look. âI love having you here.â
You reach over and brush her cheek with your knuckles, your heart tugging at the corners. âI wouldnât be anywhere else.â
The boat rocks gently as the three of you lounge on the front deck, sun cascading over everything in a golden glaze. Youâre tucked in one corner with a book in hand and sunglasses shading your eyes, only half-focused on the page. From your peripheral vision, you catch glimpses of Tigerlily curled up against Julian, their conversation floating around like soft background musicâsomething about a movie he promised to watch, something else about her weird dream last night. You smile faintly at their easy affection, eyes dropping back to your bookâuntil a shadow lengthens beside you.
Someone joins the group. You can feel it immediately, like a ripple in the calm. Not just the presence, but the weight of a gaze on youâcurious, unwavering. You glance up briefly, eyes peeking over the rim of your sunglasses.
Itâs someone you havenât seen before. A tall, lithe man with buzzcut hair and delicate, striking features that contrast sharply with the sharpness of his frame. His eyes linger on you in a way that feels oddly direct, and itâs only when he finally speaks that the spell breaks.
âHey, whoâs this?â he asks, his voice smooth, amused.
Julian blinks, glancing between you and the man. âOhâright. Hyunjin, this is Tigerlilyâs mom.â
Hyunjinâs mouth twitches into a small smile as he steps closer and extends his hand. You slip your bookmark in place and close the book, slipping off your sunglasses. His hand is warm in yours, long fingers wrapping around gentlyâbut his eyes, they hold your gaze like theyâre reading something in you.
âItâs very nice to meet you,â he says, voice low, and then adds with absolutely no hesitation, âYouâre really beautiful.â
Tigerlily bursts into sudden laughter, her hand flying to cover her mouth. âHyunjin!â she gasps. âAre you trying to hit on my mom?â
âSo what if I am?â he says, totally unbothered, still looking at you.
You feel a heat rise to your cheeksânot the sun, this time.
Julian groans good-naturedly. âHyunjin, why did you think Iâm dating the daughter, not the mom? Sheâs the it girl of the â90s, man.â
Tigerlily gives Julian a glare before elbows him on the side.
âI had no idea,â Hyunjin says, his gaze not leaving yours. âI just know sheâs beautiful.â
Youâre not used to compliments like this anymoreânot said so earnestly and with such ease. You laugh lightly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear as you give a polite, slightly flustered smile. âWell, thank you.â
Tigerlily, still grinning, leans over to nudge Julian. âHe missed the part where you say in the â90s, right? Like⊠a while ago.â
Hyunjin just shrugs, his tone almost challenging. âLike I care about that.â
Tigerlily blinks at him. Then turns to you. You raise your brows, shoulders lifting in a small shrug. You try to return to your book, but the page blurs a little. Not from the sun, not from the windâbut because thereâs something about the way Hyunjin is still watching you like thereâs more to read in you than the pages youâre holding.
The boat stops once it's far enough from the shore and the splashing sound coming from the side of the boat startles you. You fumble to check only to find Julianâs sister, Maude, has jumped into the sea.
You decide to sit at the edge of the boat, legs curled beneath you, a cold drink in one hand and the sun warming your shoulders as Tigerlily, Julian and Alexa are also jumping into the water, splashing around like kids, their laughter echoing over the waves. You watch them with a fond smile, chin resting on your palm, feeling oddly full just witnessing your daughter so happy. Then, you hear it.
Click. Click.
Your head turns instinctively toward the sound, and there he isâHyunjinâstanding a few feet away with a camera in hand, lowering it with a guilty smile when he notices youâve caught him.
âSorry,â he says, not looking sorry at all. âI just⊠couldnât help it.â
You raise an eyebrow at him, half-amused, half-incredulous. âWere you just taking pictures of me?â
He shrugs like itâs the most natural thing in the world. âI was. You're beautifulâitâs hard not to.â
That makes you let out a breathy, surprised laugh, half-shy, half-entertained. You shake your head, glancing back out to the sea like itâll cool your blush. âYouâre something else.â
âHyunjin,â he says, finally coming closer and offering his hand again, this time more properly. âI donât think I introduced myself earlier.â
You take his hand again, noting how warm and familiar it already feels in yours. âNice to meet you, Hyunjin. I take it you and Julian go way back?â
He leans casually against the rail beside you, his sunglasses hanging off the collar of his shirt. âHigh school. He was exactly the same back then. Sweet. Smart. Terrible at talking to girls.â
You grin. âSo youâre saying heâs always been this⊠nervous?â
âLike a scared puppy,â Hyunjin confirms, laughing. âBut the kind that would take a bullet for the people he loves. You donât have to worry about Tigerlily. He worships her.â
You nod softly at that, touched. âThatâs very reassuring. Thank you.â
Hyunjin looks at you for a beat, then tilts his head. âArenât you curious to know about me?â
You laugh. âAre you offering up a full character profile?â
âOnly the interesting parts,â he says with a wink. âLetâs see⊠Iâm a pottery artist. I throw clay for a living. Julian actually met Tigerlily at one of my exhibits, so Iâll take partial credit for their love story.â
âWow,â you smile. âMultitalented and a matchmaker.â
âAnd single,â he adds, eyes sparkling. âAlso, apparently⊠recently discovering I might have a thing for older women.â
You laughâa real one this time, unfiltered and lightâand toss your head back slightly. âOh, is that so?â
Hyunjin leans a little closer, voice low and teasing. âYouâre kind of making it hard not to.â
Your gaze flickers to hisâthose sharp eyes softened by sunlight and mischiefâand you find yourself laughing again, caught completely off guard by how amused, how seen you feel in that moment.
Itâs been a long time since someone made you feel this way. Curious. Flattered. Just a little bit reckless. And the fact that itâs someone like him only makes it worseâand better.
-
The sun is hanging low over the horizon, spilling its golden light across the calm sea, and youâre in the kitchen galley, shoulder to shoulder with Julianâs mother as you help prepare dinner for everyone. The boat gently sways beneath your feet, and the sounds of laughter and soft music drift in from the deck. Thereâs something peaceful about itâthis simple, domestic moment, so different from the chaos your life once knew.
Fresh from her shower, Tigerlily joins you, her cheeks still flushed from the sun and her hair damp around her shoulders. âSmells good in here,â she says, bumping her hip against yours as she grabs a stack of plates and starts setting the table on the back deck.
You're watching her, quietly smiling, when Julian appears beside her, freshly changed into dry clothes. He takes her hand gently and calls, âHyunjin, heyâwould you mind taking a few photos of us with the sunset?â
You glance over, your heart skipping a beat. So this is it.
Hyunjin, camera in hand, gives a playful salute and positions them with their backs to the sunset. âAlright, stand right there. A little closer. Julian, put your hand around her waist⊠yeah, perfect. Lils, look out at the ocean.â
Tigerlily does as sheâs told, oblivious and relaxed.
Julianâs other hand slips into the pocket of his pants. You freeze where you stand, breath catching in your throat. Julian slowly pulls out a small velvet box.
âOkay, now, Lils,â Hyunjin calls gently, âturn around and look at Julian.â
She spins playfully, half-laughingâuntil her eyes land on him. She goes still. Her breath stutters.
Everyone else falls quiet.
Julian is on one knee, holding the box open, his face awash in the soft, fading sunlight. You grip the edge of the table, your heart racing in your chest.
âI knew from the moment I saw you at that gallery that I wanted to know everything about you,â Julian begins, voice a little shaky but clear. âI love how your laugh comes out before your jokes do. I love that you always steal fries off my plate even though you say youâre not hungry. I love that when Iâm with you, I donât feel like I need to be anyone else.â
Tigerlily blinks, tears welling fast in her eyes.
âYou make everything feel like home,â Julian continues, his own eyes glassy. âAnd I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. Will you marry me?â
It hits you like a waveâpride, joy, a strange ache in your chest like you were the one being asked, you were the girl in love with the sea glowing behind her.
Tigerlily gasps, a hand over her mouth, and thenâshe nods. âYes,â she chokes out. âYes, Julian.â
Cheers erupt around the boat. Julian slips the ring onto her finger, his hands trembling, and then stands to kiss her, slow and reverent, with the ocean breeze dancing through their hair.
You blink back tears, feeling them slip down anywayâand then a gentle arm wraps around your shoulders. Julianâs mother. She gives you a knowing squeeze, her own eyes shiny with emotion. âItâs something else, isnât it?â she murmurs.
You nod, biting your lip to keep from crying harder. âIt really is.â
And as Tigerlily and Julian hold each other beneath the peach-streaked sky, their silhouettes backlit by the fading sun, you canât help but whisper under your breath, âMy little girlâs getting married.â
Youâre still trying to collect yourself, when you hear the hurried footstepsâbarefoot and lightâand then suddenly, sheâs there.
Tigerlily throws herself into your arms, nearly knocking the wind out of you. Sheâs laughing, breathless, trembling with joy as she hugs you tight.
âMom!â she exclaims, pulling away just enough to hold her hand out in front of you. âLook!â
The ring glints under the fading sunlight, elegant and simple, but it might as well be the crown jewel by the way sheâs staring at it, eyes wide, still dazed. âIâm getting married,â she says in a whisper, like she doesnât believe the words even as she speaks them. âIâm actually getting married.â
You nod, slow and soft, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. âYou are,â you manage, voice thick with emotion. âYou really are.â
And then you pull her back into your arms, wrapping her up like you did when she was small, when sheâd scrape her knee or have a bad dream or just need her mom.
âAre you happy, little cub?â you murmur against her hair.
She pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes, cheeks still wet from tears but her smileâoh, her smile is luminous. âYes,â she says, with a kind of certainty that steadies your heartbeat. âIâm so, so happy.â
You nod again, brushing her hair gently back from her face, your fingers lingering at her temple.
âIf youâre happy,â you whisper, âthen Iâm happy.â
You lean in, kiss her softly on the temple, and for a moment, the world falls still. Itâs just the two of youâmother and daughter, hearts full, tears barely held back, connected by something deeper than words.
Then Julian approaches, his steps quiet but purposeful, and you break the hug to turn to him. His face is still flushed from the proposal, his eyes a little watery, but he smiles at youânervous again, like always. You step into his arms and hug him too, firm and warm.
âCongratulations,â you whisper. âTake good care of her, will you?â
âI will,â he says, voice a little shaky. âI promise.â
When you pull back, Tigerlily is beaming at both of you, and then she takes Julianâs hand, and just like thatâthe celebration continues.
Dinner is served on the upper deck under a string of fairy lights. Music plays, laughter rings out across the boat, and champagne glasses clink in celebration. Everyone is radiantâMaude and Alexa dancing barefoot, Julianâs parents looking proud, Hyunjin snapping candids in the golden hour light, and youâ
You sit back for a moment, just watching. Watching your daughter. Your daughter, laughing with her fiancé, cheeks flushed with happiness, her whole future ahead of her.
A mix of emotions rolls through youâpride, awe, disbelief, joy, and that familiar ache that comes with letting go. You think of all the versions of Tigerlily youâve loved: the little girl with scraped knees and messy braids, the teen who rolled her eyes but still hugged you goodnight, the woman now, who wears engagement rings and about to be someone's wife.
And something blooms in your chest, wide and full. Not just joyâbut peace. Profound, bone-deep peace. In this moment, you feel it completely. You are happy.
-
The house feels impossibly still after a day so full of life. You move through the quiet halls, still smelling faintly of salt and sunblock, your bag abandoned by the front door. The lights are dimmed low, just enough to guide your way to the bedroom. Youâre halfway through brushing your teeth when your phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Chris.
You hesitate before picking up. Itâs late. But you know himâyou know that if heâs calling at this hour, itâs not casual. You slide your finger across the screen and press the phone to your ear. âHey.â
Thereâs a beat of silence. Thenâ âSheâs getting married.â
His voice is low, worn out. Not angry. Not sad. Just⊠broken.
You sit down on the edge of the bed, your breath catching slightly. âShe called you?â
âJust hung up,â he says. âShe was so excited. Said it like she couldnât believe it herself.â
You smile faintly. âShe was glowing all day, Chris. You should've seen it.â
Chris lets out a laughâquiet, hollow. âI remember when she used to light up like that just from sitting on my shoulders.â
Thereâs a long pause, one of those where neither of you needs to speak to understand the ache the other is carrying. âI know itâs stupid,â he finally says, âbut it feels like Iâm being cheated on. Likeâshe was mine. My baby. My little cub. And now some guy gets to come in and justâjust take over. Call her his family.â
You close your eyes, pressing your lips together. âItâs not stupid.â
âI used to be her whole world,â he says, his voice cracking. âNow Iâm... a scheduled phone call. A guest at her wedding.â
You lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart heavy with a quiet ache. âYouâll always be her dad, Chris. Nothing will ever take that from you.â
He sighs, and you can hear the way heâs holding back more. Memories. Emotions. Regrets.
âI missed so much already,â he mutters. âHer graduation. Her first heartbreak. All those stupid in-between things. I thought maybe Iâd have more time.â
âYouâll have different moments now,â you say gently. âMaybe not the same ones. But new ones. Important ones.â
Chris goes quiet, and for a second, you wonder if heâs still on the line. Then, softly, he asks, âDid you cry?â
You let out a breathy laugh. âOf course I did.â
âI wish I couldâve seen her,â he says. âWish I couldâve been there. With you. For her.â
You swallow the sudden lump in your throat. âShe looked so much like you when she said yes,â you whisper.
That gets him. You hear the hitch in his breath. The rest of the night is spent like thatâChris talking, remembering, grieving something that was never really lost, just changed. And you listen, the way only someone whoâs loved him deeply once can. You let him be selfish, fragile, ridiculousâbecause this isnât about being rational.
This is about love.
And when he finally falls silent, you whisper, âWe did good, you know. Raising her.â
Thereâs a long silence before he murmurs, âYeah. We really did.â
You set your phone down gently on the nightstand, the screen going black like the closing of a curtain. The house is quiet again, but the silence feels different nowâthicker somehow, like itâs holding something inside of it. You lean back against the pillows, exhaling slowly as your eyes drift up to the ceiling.
Itâs not just you.
Thatâs the thought that settles over you like a blanket. Youâre not the only one caught in this strange in-betweenâbetween the past and the future, between holding on and letting go. Chris, too, is reeling. Grasping. Feeling like heâs losing something he thought he had more time with. Thereâs a quiet comfort in knowing that.
Because tonight, watching Tigerlily say yes with the sunset blazing behind her, part of you had felt like you were standing still while the rest of the world moved on without asking. Like everything was changing too fast, too soon.
But now, lying here in the soft hum of the night, you realize that maybe change doesnât have to be something to fear. Maybe itâs just a new season arrivingâquiet, inevitable, and hopefully, kind.
You turn your head, eyes landing on a photo of Tigerlily on your dresser. Sheâs younger in this one, her cheeks round, her smile toothy. You remember taking it. You remember everything. You smile faintly. Maybe this is what growing up looks likeânot just for her, but for you, too.
And maybe itâs all changing for the better.
-
Itâs a slow Saturday afternoon when you hear the familiar creak of your front door opening and Tigerlilyâs voice calling out, âMom?â
You glance up from your notebook, pen still in hand, and before you can answer, sheâs already walking into the kitchen like she owns the placeâas she always hasâplopping her purse on the counter and reaching straight for the cookie jar.
âYou want something?â you ask without looking up, grinning as you hear her bite into a cookie.
âYeah,â she says around a mouthful, âI want you to come out with me tonight.â
That gets your attention. You raise an eyebrow as you swivel in your chair, playful curiosity in your voice. âWow, inviting your mom out on a Saturday night? What, Julian couldnât make it?â
From the kitchen, she groans. âHeâs been swamped at work this week. He said he might fall asleep standing if he tries to go out tonight.â
You smile as you stand and stretch. âSo Iâm the backup plan.â
âNo,â she says pointedly, another bite of cookie halfway to her mouth, âyouâre the main event. I wanted to spend time with you. Before I become someoneâs wife.â
Youâre halfway to the kitchen when she says that, and your steps falter just a littleâjust enough to register the weight of her words. You reach her side and pluck a cookie from the jar, mirroring her stance, leaning against the counter.
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â you ask softly, a teasing edge to your voice.
Tigerlily doesnât answerânot with words. She just gives you a knowing look, the kind of look that says everything without saying much at all. And you know. You know what she means.
That she wonât always be yours first.
So you gently pat the top of her head, a silent acknowledgment of whatâs changingâof what will never change, too.
And then you take a bite of your cookie, brushing the moment aside with practiced ease. âSo where are you taking me, future wife?â
She perks up, cookie forgotten. âThereâs this art exhibition downtownâJulian got me the inviteâand I thought maybe after, we could get drinks or something. Just us.â
You nod, finishing your cookie. âAlright then. Let me go throw on something cool and age-appropriate.â
âPlease do,â she says with a smirk. âBecause youâre about to be seen with a young woman.â
You flick a crumb at her, already walking away. âThen I better wear heels. Wouldnât want anyone thinking Iâm your mother or something.â
The city hums quietly around you as Tigerlily drives, her fingers drumming lightly against the wheel to the rhythm of the song on the radio. The sun is beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting golden light across her faceâher cheekbones highlighted, her eyes focused, her lips painted a shade that suits her too well.
Youâre watching her in silence, your elbow propped on the car door, cheek resting against your hand. It hits you all at onceâhow grown she is. Not just older, but grown. A woman. Not just your daughter, but someoneâs partner. Someone who knows what she wants, who walks into rooms with her head high and her heart wide open.
She catches your stare during a red light and raises a brow. âDo I have something on my face?â
You blink yourself back into the moment and smile softly. âNo. I just⊠I like your lipstick.â
She grins. âItâs in my bag if you want to use it.â
You reach down and grab her purse from the floor, fishing through it. Lipstick, sunglasses, tissues, receipts, mintsâand a folded, glossy brochure catches your eye.
You pull it out, unfolding it. âIs this the exhibition weâre going to?â
Tigerlily glances over. âYeah. Julianâs firm helped sponsor it.â
You scan the list of artists until a familiar name stops you cold. Hwang Hyunjin.
Your brow arches. âWait. Is this⊠the Hyunjin I met on the boat?â
Tigerlilyâs grin is instant, wicked, and wide.
âYes,â she says, dragging out the word. âThat Hyunjin.â
You slide her a look.
âOh my god,â she says dramatically, âyou totally forgot he was an artist, didnât you?â
You feign innocence, setting the brochure in your lap. âI didnât forget. I just didnât know he was showing here.â
She laughs, delighted, tapping the wheel. âYou like him.â
âI donât like him.â
âYou do. You got all flustered the second he called you beautiful.â
You roll your eyes. âTigerlily.â
âMom.â
You look out the window, but youâre smiling now, the kind that tugs at the corner of your lips despite yourself. And she sees it.
âOh my god, you do like him.â
You shake your head, laughing under your breath. âHeâs like, what, twelve?â
She snorts. âHeâs as old as Julian.â
You glance back at her. âThatâs not better.â
âThatâs hot,â she says instead. âYouâve still got it.â
You shoot her a look. âPlease stop.â
You hadnât expected to feel nervousâthis wasnât a date, it was an art exhibition with your daughter. But ever since spotting his name on that brochure, thereâs been a flutter of something low in your stomach, delicate and unshakable.
You walk beside Tigerlily into the exhibition, all clean lines and soft lighting. Art lines the wallsâpaintings, sculptures, ceramicsâand you try to keep your eyes on them, but you can feel it. His gaze.
And when you look upâthere he is. Hyunjin, standing near a tall display of pottery, dressed in relaxed black slacks and a linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His buzzcut somehow makes his cheekbones look sharper, but itâs the way his eyes immediately find you that makes your breath hitch.
Tigerlily grabs your hand and tugs you toward him. âLetâs go say hi to your potter boy.â
You gently swat her arm but donât argue.
Hyunjin straightens as the two of you approach, a soft, knowing smile spreading across his face. His eyes flick between Tigerlily and you, but linger on youâopen, unbothered, like he has no intention of pretending otherwise. âHi,â he says simply, like the word is meant only for you.
Tigerlily grins. âCongratulations, Hyunjin. This whole thing is incredible. The colors, the formsâlike, itâs weirdly emotional. I didnât expect to feel something over clay.â
Hyunjin nods, appreciative. âThank you,â he says, and then, softer, to you, âIâm glad you came.â
You swallow, fingers tightening slightly around your clutch. âItâs beautiful. Everything.â
Tigerlily glances between the two of you, and you catch the flicker of realization in her eyes. Her gaze lingers on Hyunjin, then you. A smile curves her lips, but she doesnât say anythingâjust lightly touches your arm.
âIâm gonna get us some drinks,â she says, far too casually. âYou two go ahead and talk about... I'll just go.â
Before you can say anything, sheâs already turning away, leaving you alone with Hyunjin in the middle of his world.
Hyunjin smiles, as if this was always meant to happen. âWould you like a tour?â he asks. âIâll show you my favorites.â
You nod, trying to collect yourself as he leads you across the room to a display of delicate, curved vases and explains a bit about it.
âHave you ever worked with clay?â he asks, that slight tilt to his voiceâcasual, but laced with suggestion.
You shake your head. âI donât know the first thing about pottery. But itâs⊠really beautiful.â
âI could teach you,â he says.
You laugh, a little flustered. âIâm sure youâre busy.â
âFor you, Iâd make time.â
Itâs so simple, the way he says it. No hesitation. No games. And thatâs what throws you.
You look at him, really lookâand heâs looking at you like youâre the centerpiece of the exhibition, like he curated the entire room just to bring you here. Itâs intense, that kind of attention. Unapologetic.
âI doubt Iâd be any good at it,â you say, trying to deflect.
âCome to my studio,â he says. âLetâs find out.â
His voice is low, but not pressing. Just enough to leave spaceâfor you to lean in or walk away. But his eyes⊠his eyes are burning. Admiring. Wanting. A quiet pull you canât quite escape.
You break the gaze, looking down at the smooth glaze of the pot nearest you, your fingers brushing lightly over its curve. Hyunjinâs smile deepens, and you donât have to look at him to know. He knows exactly what heâs doing to you.
And somehow, you donât hate it.
-
After the exhibition, you and Tigerlily settle into a cozy booth at a bar just down the street from the gallery. The music is mellow, the lights low and golden, and the clinking of glasses and quiet hum of conversation wrap around you like a blanket. You each have a drink in handâsomething fruity and pink in Tigerlilyâs, something simpler in yours.
You sip, exhale, and lean back. âWell⊠that was unexpectedly interesting.â
Tigerlilyâs lips curve around the rim of her glass. âYou mean the exhibition?â she teases.
You lift an eyebrow. âIs that what weâre calling him now?â
She laughs, a full, unfiltered sound. âI saw you and Hyunjin, you know. Sneaking off for your little pottery tour.â
You feign a gasp, dramatically clutching your chest. âWhat are you saying, Tigerlily? You want a new dad?â
She chokes on her drink, coughing through her laughter. âOh my God, please donât ever say that again.â
You grin as you stir your drink with the little straw. âJust checking.â
But then, her tone shiftsâstill playful, but more earnest now. âIâm serious, though. I think itâs a good time for you to start dating again.â
You glance at her sideways, teasing, âOh? So youâve finally given up on the dream of me and your dad running off into the sunset?â
Tigerlily chuckles, soft and knowing. âI mean⊠yeah. I used to hope, but now? I just want you to be happy. However that looks.â
Something in you stirs. Itâs not sadnessânot quiteâbut something tender. Moved. You coo, placing your hand over hers on the table. âYouâre all grown up now, arenât you?â
She gives you a sheepish smile, then rolls her eyes as she groans, âEven if that happiness means Hyunjin becomes my stepdad. Ew.â
You burst into laughter. âHeâs notâTigerlily!â
âIâm just saying,â she lifts her hands in defense, eyes wide, âif it ever comes to that, Iâll be supportive. Slightly traumatized, but supportive.â
You laugh until your chest aches, then sigh as you cradle your glass between your hands. âI donât know⊠dating at my age, it feels kind ofââ
Tigerlily gasps. âDonât even start with that age talk.â
You shrug, playful but honest. âIt just seems a little late to open up my heart again.â
She leans forward, voice soft but firm. âThen donât open it wide. Just crack the window a little. Let some air in. You never know what might fly through.â
You look at her, this remarkable woman you raised, and something about her words nestles itself right under your ribs. âIâm not saying it has to be Hyunjin,â she adds, sly smile returning. âBut⊠you could do worse.â
You roll your eyes, but the smile that lifts your lips is genuine. âYouâre kind of sweet when youâre not being annoying.â
She raises her glass. âTo annoying daughters who want their moms to be ridiculously happy.â
You clink glasses with her, the sound small but meaningful and for the first time in a long while, the idea of something newâsomething a little wild, a little uncertainâdoesnât scare you. Not when youâve come this far. Not when your daughter is rooting for your heart.
-
So here you are, standing in front of the brick building tucked into a quiet corner of the city, the late afternoon sun casting warm shadows across its facade. The metal plaque reads Studio Hwang in a clean, simple font. You pause at the door, your hand hovering just before the handle.
This doesn't mean you're going to open your heart.
You're not here to be charmed or swept off your feet or written into some kind of romantic plot twist. No. Youâre here becauseâwell, because you were curious. And maybe a little flattered. And maybe, maybe, you wanted to try something new.
You exhale through your nose, give a small nod to yourself. Who knows, you think, maybe Iâll like it. So you push the door open.
Inside, the soft hum of conversation mingles with the earthy scent of clay and dust. Afternoon light spills through the high windows, warming the space in golden hues. Shelves are lined with ceramic piecesâsome smooth and glazed, others raw and half-finished, waiting to become something more.
You spot Hyunjin almost immediately. Heâs across the room, mid-conversation with someoneâmaybe a buyer, maybe a fellow artist, youâre not sure. Heâs gesturing toward a set of tall vases, his tone focused, expressive. He hasnât seen you yet.
For a moment, you hesitate. Your instinct tells you to step back outside, to give yourself an out before this becomes something real.
But then Hyunjin turns. He catches sight of youâand his entire face lights up. His smile is instant, genuine, radiant in a way that makes you forget you were just about to retreat.
âIâm happy to see you,â he says, stepping away from his conversation without hesitation. âYou came.â
âI didnât mean to interrupt,â you say, glancing briefly toward the person he was speaking with, your hand still loosely gripping the strap of your bag. âI can come back later, if youâre busy.â
But Hyunjinâs reaction is immediate. He takes a small step toward you, shaking his head with a pleading softness in his eyes. âNo. Donât go.â
You blink, a little surprised by the sincerity in his voice.
âI was just finishing up anyway,â he says, flashing you a crooked smile, one that almost feels like a quiet apology for making you feel like you werenât welcome here. âIâve been looking forward to this. Stayâplease.â
And itâs the way he looks at you. Open. Warm. Like your presence just made his whole day better. Like thereâs nowhere else heâd rather have you be.
You feel your hesitation melt, bit by bit. Your grip on your bag loosens. Your heart softens in a way you didnât expect. So you nod. Quietly, simply, you say, âOkay.â
As you wait, you take slow steps around the studio, letting your eyes wander over the carefully displayed piecesâbowls, vases, sculptures that seem to carry a sense of motion even in their stillness. Each one is uniquely imperfect, textured with fingerprints, small ridges, grooves. They're beautiful in the way something made by hand always isâfull of soul, full of intention. But as much as you're trying to focus on the art, your attention keeps drifting. To him.
Hyunjin stands a few feet away, still finishing his conversation, and you canât help but look. The way heâs dressed is simpleâjust a white tank top tucked into jeans, the fabric hugging his frame in all the right places, and an apron dusted with clay tied around his waist. His buzzed hair is wrapped under a bandana. He gestures with his hands as he talks, his words low and animated, his passion palpable.
Thereâs something magnetic about itâthe way his brows pull together when he's describing a shape, the way his hands mimic the curves of the piece, like heâs still molding it in the air. You find yourself watching too closely. Admiring too much.
God, he's attractive. Really, really attractive.
You realize youâve been staring, your thoughts trailing somewhere they shouldnât, and you quickly look away, pretending to examine a nearby vase like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world.
Your pulse does this little skip in your chest and you remind yourself again: You're just here to learn pottery.
The soft click of the studio door signals that Hyunjinâs guest has just left, and suddenly, it's just the two of you. The room feels quieter now, like itâs holding its breath, waiting. You run your fingertips along the rim of a ceramic bowl, pretending to study it as you hear the sound of his footsteps getting closer. Your heart does a little flutter as you straighten your posture, but you donât dare turn around until you hear his voice.
âSoâŠâ he says, his tone lighter now, a little teasing, âready for your first pottery lesson?â
You finally turn to face him, and he's looking at you with a smile that makes you feel warm all over. His apron is still dusted with clay, his arms streaked with it, and thereâs a tiny smudge on his cheek you have to force yourself not to reach for.
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving a small laugh. âI guess so. I mean, I donât want to break anything.â
He grins, dimples and all. âDonât worry. The only rule here is to enjoy yourself.â
The way he says itâcalm, easy, invitingâmakes you relax a little. You nod, your lips curling into a smile. âOkay. Teach me, then.â
Hyunjin reaches for an apron hanging on a hook, shaking the dust from it before offering it to you with a quiet smile. âHere,â he says, âcanât have you ruining that pretty outfit.â
You chuckle softly as you slide your arms through the apron, smoothing it down the front. Before you can reach behind to tie it, heâs already stepping closerâclose enough that the heat of his body brushes your back.
âLet me,â he murmurs.
His fingers gather the straps at your waist, slow and deliberate, and as he knots them behind you, you feel the firm brush of his knuckles against the small of your back. Your breath hitchesâjust slightlyâand youâre thankful he canât see your face just yet. But then⊠he moves higher.
Without a word, his hand lifts to your hair, gathering it gently, fingertips brushing your nape as he lifts it away from your neck. âCanât let it get messy either,â he says quietly, voice dropping an octave as he twists your hair and pins it up with a clip from the table. âThere. Perfect.â
Hyunjin doesnât step away. He lingers, his hands falling slowly, deliberately, to rest lightly on your shoulders as he leans inâjust enough for you to feel the soft, warm brush of his breath against your neck. You close your eyes for a moment, heat rising in your cheeks, heart fluttering like itâs never been touched before.
âYou smell really good,â he says, low and sincere, as if itâs a secret he hadnât meant to say out loud.
You swallow, pulse quickening. âIâum⊠thank you.â
When you finally turn your head slightly to glance back at him, his eyes are already on youâdark, unreadable, but soft. And the look he gives you makes you feel like youâre the only thing in the room worth noticing.
He smiles, the corners of his mouth curling up like he knows exactly what heâs doing to you. âLetâs make something beautiful,â he says.
And youâre not entirely sure if heâs still talking about pottery.
-
Hyunjin leads you to the table, where a solid mound of clay sits waiting. He picks up a thin, taut wire with wooden handles on each end and holds it out for you. âThis is a cut-off wire,â he explains gently, âyou use it to portion the clay before you bring it to the wheel.â
You take the handles in your hands, unsure, and glance at him. He steps behind you again, not too close this timeâbut close enough that you can feel the presence of him, the quiet patience he carries.
âPull it tight,â he says, âand glide it through like youâre slicing butter.â
You do as he says, but your motion is a little hesitant, uneven. He doesnât correct you right away. Instead, his hands come up to rest over yours, steadying them, guiding the motion with a softness that makes your breath catch.
âLike this,â he murmurs, his voice brushing your ear.
Together, you slice through the clay. When itâs done, he lets goâslowlyâand steps around to lift the cut piece with ease. He smiles.
âPerfect,â he says. âSee? Not so hard.â
You follow him as he carries the clay over to the wheel, your heart still fluttering from the brief contact. He pats the stool next to the wheel.
âCome sit. Letâs get your hands dirty.â
You do, smoothing the apron over your lap as you settle in.
He slaps the clay down at the center of the wheel with a satisfying thud, then sits beside you, adjusting the pedal with his foot. âWeâre going to start by centering the clay. Thatâs the most important part.â
You look down at your hands, already dusted with faint clay residue. âWhat if I mess it up?â
Hyunjin leans in with a smile that borders on a smirk, eyes flicking up to yours. âThatâs part of the fun.â
His hands take yours again, guiding them toward the spinning mound of clay. The wheel starts turning, slow and steady, and he wraps his fingers around yours as the clay begins to take shape beneath your touch.
The sensation is strangeâcool, smooth, pliantâbut with him guiding you, it doesnât feel overwhelming. It feels⊠grounding. Intimate. âJust feel it,â he says quietly. âDonât overthink.â
You nod, even though your heart is racingânot from nerves over the clay, but from the way his voice settles into your spine. The way his hands feel sure and gentle over yours. The way his focus is split between the clay and you.
Then, Hyunjin moves to the wheel across from you, his own piece of clay already set and spinning. âWatch me first,â he says, looking up with a soft grin. âThen you can try.â
You nod, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you lean forward slightly, eyes on him. On the way his hands wet with slip move gracefully over the surface of the clay. His fingers are long, preciseâexpertâand thereâs a natural rhythm in the way they press and pull, coaxing form from the formless.
Your gaze drops to his forearms, where veins run along the skin like rivers, his muscles subtly flexing as he controls the wheel. The way his biceps shift beneath the snug fit of his tank has your breath hitching just slightly, and then your eyes move up againâpast the bandana holding his hair back, past the little smudge of clay near his jawâto his face.
Hyunjin is all focus. Calm, unbothered, completely at home in the motion of his craft. And for a moment, you forget where you are.
Youâre watching himânot just the process, but himâand your thoughts go quiet. All you hear is the hum of the wheel, the soft squish of clay, and your own heartbeat tapping against your ribs.
Then, as if he senses it, his eyes lift. He catches you staring. You look away fast, cheeks warming, pretending to busy yourself with your own shapeless lump of clay. But across the room, you hear his soft laugh. Low, amused, unbothered.
âI can feel you watching me,â he says, not looking up this time as he dips his fingers in water and smooths a new edge into his piece.
You glance up at him again, trying to sound casual. âIâm just observing. You said to watch.â
âRight,â he says, a teasing glint in his eye now. âStrictly academic.â
You roll your eyes but canât help the smile that spreads on your lips. He doesn't push, just continues shaping his work with that same focused graceâwhile every now and then, you catch his gaze flicking back to you. And each time it does, it lingers just a little longer.
Not long after, you find yourself sinking into it, the stillness not awkward but comforting. The kind of quiet that wraps around you like a warm blanket, where nothing needs to be said. Your hands move gently over the clay, smoothing it, shaping itânot entirely sure what you're making, but enjoying the process anyway. Itâs oddly therapeutic, the coolness of the clay, the give and resistance of it, the freedom to make anything. You let your fingers trail along its form, untilâ
The wheel spins too fast beneath your hand, wobbling wildly, and your once-decent shape collapses inward with a wet slap. You sigh, pulling your hands back, covered in clay and frustration.
Hyunjin looks up from his own wheel. He sees your frown, your ruined creation, and he doesnât laugh like you expect him to. Instead, he wipes his hands with a rag and rises, walking over with an amused curl to his lips and that glint in his eyes. âYou panicked,â he says softly, voice dipped in warm amusement.
âI messed it up,â you mutter, eyeing the deformed lump.
âYou can still fix it,â he simply resolves.
Before you can ask how, heâs already behind you. Not too closeâbut close enough that you can feel his presence, the gentle press of warmth radiating from his chest. Then, with zero hesitation, he reaches around you, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he guides your hands back to the clay.
âSlow down,â he murmurs, his breath brushing against your neck.
You try not to shiver as he continues, âJust feel it. Let your hands listen to what it wants to be.â
His hands gently cup yours, steering them over the clay as the wheel spins againâslower this time. Controlled. Intimate. His fingers never leave yours, and every time he leans in to speak, his lips come dangerously close to your ear. âYouâre doing good,â he whispers. âSee? Told you we could fix it.â
You manage a breathy chuckle, though your focus is splitâhalf on the clay, half on how close he is. How his chest nearly grazes your back, how his voice sinks into your skin, how his fingers linger just a little too long with each adjustment.
âFeels a little like cheating,â you murmur.
He huffs a laugh behind you. âI like helping.â His voice dips a little lower. âBesides⊠if it means I get to be this close to you, Iâm not complaining.â
You glance back at himâonly to find his face already angled toward yours, eyes heavy-lidded with that teasing smile. Your breath catches. For a moment, neither of you move. You pull in a breath, trying to center yourself againâon the clay, the motion, the wheel beneath your hands, not on the way Hyunjinâs breath felt brushing your skin just moments ago.
âOkay,â you murmur, mostly to yourself. âLetâs just finish this.â
And you do. You put all of your focus into the shape, your hands moving more confidently now. Every curve, every pressure, you begin to feel the rhythm. Hyunjin stays close but doesn't interfere anymoreâjust lets you work, watching with quiet eyes and the occasional, almost imperceptible smile. A few times, he gently murmurs encouragements, soft like a breeze: âJust like that⊠slower on the edge⊠good, yeah, thatâs it.â
And slowly, it comes together. A little uneven, maybe. Not perfectly symmetrical. But it has a charmâyour charm, your hands in the shape of it.
When you lift your hands and look at what you've made, you let out a quiet breath. âItâs⊠kind of a plate?â you say, unsure.
Hyunjin chuckles, stepping in. âIt is a plate,â he says warmly, reaching for the cut-off wire. He carefully loops it beneath the clay, slicing it from the wheel with practiced ease, and lifts it with gentle hands like itâs a masterpiece.
He turns to you with a smile so genuine it makes your chest swell. âYou did a really good job,â he says.
You smile back, your cheeks still warm. âOnly because you practically made it with me.â
âI was just your guide.â He winks. âYouâre the artist.â
You roll your eyes with a soft laugh, but something about the way heâs looking at you makes you stand a little taller. Like maybe you are capable of making something beautifulâeven if itâs just a slightly lopsided plate in a small studio, with a man whoâs slowly but surely making a mark on your heart.
-
The clayâs still under your nails a little, but thereâs something oddly satisfying about it. A trace of the afternoon etched into your skin. You wash your hand in the nearest sink and feel a little more relaxed as you're toweling your damp hands.
Not long after, Hyunjin walks in, balancing two cups of coffee with ease, still in his paint-smeared apron and bandana, looking effortlessly undone in the most deliberate way.
âMade us coffee,â he says, handing you one of the mugs. Your fingers brush for a second as you take it, and it sends a small jolt up your spine.
âThanks,â you murmur, taking a sip and leaning against the big wooden table beside him. The studio is quiet now, just the soft hum of life outside the windows and the lingering scent of clay and coffee between you.
You admire the wall-to-wall shelf of pottery on the other side of the studio, each piece unique, imperfectly perfect in their own way. âYouâve made all of these?â you ask.
He nods, glancing at them over his cup. âEach oneâs like a memory.â
You smile at that, letting the silence wrap around you both for a beat. Then, from beside you, he says casually, âSo⊠I mightâve done a little internet stalking about you.â
You glance at him, brow arching. âOh?â
He smiles into his cup, lowering it slowly. âI was curious.â
âAnd what did you find out, detective?â
He turns his head to look at you, something playful and soft behind his eyes. âThat you were⊠different.â
You narrow your eyes, amused. âDifferent how?â
He tilts his head, thinking. âFiery. Effervescent. A little wild, in the best way.â
You let out a breathy laugh. âAre you disappointed now?â
He shakes his head, eyes still locked on yours. âNot even close.â His voice is low, steady. âI like who you are now.â
Your heart flips, unprepared for the way he says itâso matter-of-factly, like it's the easiest truth he's ever spoken. Then he adds, almost as if speaking to the room, âBut I think that part of you is still in there. Just⊠quieter now. I wonder if I'll ever meet her.â
You look down into your coffee, lips curling slightly before glancing back at him. âOr maybe you shouldâve been born sooner,â you tease, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.
But Hyunjin just smiles, slow and knowing, as he turns to face you more fully. âNo,â he says, shaking his head. âIf I was born sooner⊠you wouldnât have noticed me. Iâd be nobody.â
Your smile falters, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. âThatâs not true.â
âIt is,â he says, stepping closer. âYou wouldâve looked right through me. But nowâŠâ His eyes lock on yours again, this time deeper, weightier. âNow you see me.â
Your breath hitches, the space between you shrinking, thick with something electric.
âI think,â he murmurs, voice low, âwe met at the right time.â
You swallow, caught off guardânot just by his words, but by the way he says them. The way he makes you feel. And you realize, maybe itâs not about being ready to open your heart. Maybe itâs about someone walking in and making it feel safe enough to try.
And then, he takes a small step closer, close enough that you can see the brown of his eyes, the way his lashes cast soft shadows on his cheekbones, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his temple from earlier.
âCan I tell you something?â he asks, voice low, husky with hesitation⊠and intent.
You nod before you can think better of it.
âIâve been trying to keep it cool,â he murmurs, his hand brushing the edge of the table near yours. âTrying not to be⊠too much.â
Your lips twitch, heart hammering. âYou think this is you trying to be subtle?â
Hyunjin lets out a quiet laugh, one that curls around your ribs and settles in your belly. âI guess Iâm not very good at subtle when it comes to you.â
And then, slowly, he reaches outâhis hand gentle as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing the curve of your jaw before falling away. The touch is light, but it lingers in your skin like fire.
âYou make it really hard,â he says, barely above a whisper, ânot to want... more.â
âMore?â you echo softly, trying to keep your voice steady.
His eyes donât leave yours. âMore moments like this. More of your time. More of you.â
The silence stretches for a beatâyour heart racing, cheeks burningâbut you donât pull away. You donât stop him. Because in this moment, with the earthy scent of clay still hanging in the air and the fading sunlight washing golden across the floor, it feels terrifyingly easy to let yourself lean inâjust a little closer.
And Hyunjin sees it. He sees the way your eyes flick to his lips for half a second too long. So he closes the space between you, just barely, until his face hovers inches from yours. Not touching, not yet. Waiting. Letting you decide.
âTell me to stop,â he says quietly, âand I will.â
But you donât, you donât say a word. Instead, you meet his eyesâwarm, steady, searchingâand you let yourself lean in just enough to close the last inches between you.
And then, finally, his lips meet yours.
Itâs soft at firstâso gentle, as if heâs afraid to break something delicate. His lips move against yours with reverence, like heâs been waiting a long time for this moment, and now that he has it, heâs not going to rush. He kisses you like it means something. Your hand finds the front of his apron, clutching the edge of the fabric just to ground yourself, to make sure this is real. And when you respondâwhen your lips press back into his, just a little more certain, a little more openâhe sighs softly into the kiss, like relief, like gravity finally pulling him where he belongs.
His hand cradles your face, thumb brushing the edge of your cheek, and the other finds your waist, pulling you just a little closerânot demanding, but asking. You let him. You let yourself fall into the warmth of him, the quiet hum of something new and terrifyingly beautiful blooming between you.
When he finally pulls away, itâs only justâhis forehead resting against yours, eyes still closed, breath mingling with yours. âIâve been wanting to do that,â he murmurs, âsince the first time I saw you.â
You smile, breathless, your heart blooming in your chest like something brand new. âAnd here I thought you were just being polite.â
Hyunjin huffs a quiet laugh, his nose brushing yours. âNot even a little bit.â
And for a while, you stay like thatâclose, quiet, wrapped in something warm and soft and maybe even a little magicalâbefore the moment gives way to the next.
Because this doesnât feel like an ending. It feels like the very beginning.
-
âš Chapter I of Evermore is available on my Patreon âš
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Another THE BINCHAN CLIP
Everyone and their mom knows how much I love buff Changbin, tummy so soft you fall asleep the moment your head lays on it, soft all around so when he hugs you itâs like being hugged by a (very strong) cloud. But I saw a pic of younger skinny Changbin and my brain just went WOOF WOOF BARK BARK LETâS RUIN HIM
So I was thinking, small Changbin laying in the middle of the bed, naked except for you baby pink, deep V-neck sweater. His flat tummy shows, obviously, because youâd never deprive yourself of the sight of his beautiful tanned skin, his slim hips held down by your weight and bracketed by your knees, his hands atop your thighs, petting and massaging them to keep his fingers busy. He looks so so good like this, small and waiting (although whiny) for you to make him feel good. Heâs such a good boy. So responsive to your touches, so reverent anytime your hands stroke him or pinch his nipples. His thighs are taut under your ass, just like his barely there abs because heâs trying hard not to squirm, not to cum before you give him permission. Your weight on top of him is not a real restriction, heâs strong enough to push you away, if he wants to. But heâs also tiny enough to make it a struggle, to have him put some effort into doing it. But your baby is such a good boy, isnât he? His cock is a stark contrast to his slim figure, itâs thick, so thick you need both hands to grab him properly and jerk him off. Lewd noises fill the room, accompanied by his whines and your praises. His cock is not the only thing that is big about him. Should we talk about his balls? Iâve talked in the past about Bini Balls because theyâre heavy, round, delicious. The first time you saw him naked you almost choked because fuck, his cock and his balls were a surprise but theyâre also big enough to make the contrast with his slim figure even more delicious. As delicious as the small moans he makes, almost like a kitten, and you speed up your hands because heâs too cute, too pretty and you need to ruin him. And when he cums is with a perfect deep groan that you capture with your tongue and swallow with a shiver, so proud of him and so proud of yourself for making him feel good.
And if after that you bunch the sweater, holding the fabric from the neck to the hem in your fist, making his nipples peek from the top? He moans like a whore, feeling so sexy. And he is sexy, heâs irresistible. His pecs might be flat, but his puffy nipples are not. Theyâre peaking, perfect for you to just bend down your head and suck on them harshly, taking one between your teeth to hear Changbin inhale a sharp intake of air, overstimulated but chasing after the pleasure your mouth is offering.
So yeah, as you can see Iâm totally normal about Changbin in all shapes and forms⊠Will I ever be able to write him without pouring all my heart, devotion and horniness into my words?
àšà§ CHAMBER OF REFLECTION
đđ cw : STONED!sex, 3way, mxm action, poly!2chan x f!reader, birthday sex, I think that's itt???
đđ a/n : wrote this after I shared the thought with miss Juno ! @hyunsvngs
Changbin trusted you and Chan more than anything or anyone else. You three had discussed it for a few weeks by now, a stoned three way. One where Changbin would be submissive, rather than you. He would let both you and Chris take care of him, a birthday present of sorts.
He found himself sandwiched between the two of the people he loves the most. You laying on his right, your pretty tits on full display while you brushed his hair out of his face, whispering sweet words into his ear. While Chris was laying on his left, Chris' cock straining in his boxers while he sucked on Changbin's nipples.
"My sweet Binnie," you muse, kissing his temple, "isn't Channie sweet? Playing with you so nicely."
Changbin is nodding fervently while his eyes just start feeling heavier and heavier and his thoughts are swirling. A familiar warm feeling being felt from every pore of his skin. There's no doubt Changbin is hard, so hard he thinks his cock may explode, twitching against his stomach with every kiss Chris gives his chest.
"Chris," you snap him from his trance, the man on the other side of him lifting his head up to look at you, "I think our baby is feeling floaty right now, aren't you?" you look to Changbin for a response.
He nods, "feeling floaty."
"Aw, good," you coo, "now the real fun begins, baby."
Chris is quick to help Changbin up while you pull your flimsy shorts off, settling down on your back, opening up your legs and watching as Changbin's eyes bug out of his head, seeing your pretty cunt all spread out for him. "C'mon Binnie, fuck my cunt," you instruct the man hovering over you.
Changbin is in no state to deny your wishes, sinking his fat cock into your warm walls, head lolling back when he bottoms out inside you. "That's it Binnie," you coo, pulling him in for a kiss.
He's yelping against your lips when Chris gently pulls at the butt plug that was put in his ass earlier, a groan following his outburst of noise. "Sweet boy," Chris is whispering to Changbin, "you ready for me t'be inside?"
"Please," Changbin is quick to whimper.
You watch Changbin's face, observing the way his mouth falls open and how his brows knit together when Chris starts pushing his cock into Changbin's hole. How the softest and sweetest whimpers leave his mouth as Chan slowly fills him up while his own cock is still buried inside your own cunt.
"Not gonna last," Changbin announces once Chris bottoms out inside him.
"That's okay baby," you insist, a blissful grin spreading across your face.
When Chris moves you feel it as it moves Changbin's cock further into you. The three of you figure out a rhythm, one that has all of your heads falling back while whines fall from all of your lips.
Changbin wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't last long like this either, his cum seeping into you while a cry leaves his lips. You kiss him through his high while Chan's fingers play with his nipples.
Secret Santa 2023
đ Happy Holidays! This is a gift for @binniesbang courtesy of the Stayblr Secret Santa event hosted by @changbeens âïž I hope you enjoy! I also wrote a short, fluffy fic to go with it because I couldn't get these two out of my head đ€ fic under the cut
Pairing: Bang Chan Ă Reader x Changbin
Length: 1.5k
Warnings: none! Just soft, poly, friends to lovers, winter vibes with BinChan đ€ this quite literally is the softest thing I've ever written in my LIFE. i love them. đ„č
You were fully immersed in the Muppets Christmas Carol, sitting between your two best friends when your eyes were drawn to the window by a fluttering movement. And when you realized what it was that you had seen, you couldnât stop the gasp that tore itself out of your throat. Snow. The first in what felt like ages. You threw yourself off the couch and ran to the door, giggling as you went.Â
You had already pulled on your coat by the time Chan and Changbin had scrambled off the couch, both of them staring at you. âMaâam, do you mind explaining yourself? We were about to see the Ghost of Christmas Present, which is arguably the best part of this movie, and then you were gone!â Chan huffed, putting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow at you.Â
You rolled your eyes and dropped to the floor to pull on your snow boots, âGuys, itâs snowing! We have to go out before it stops!â You exclaimed, grinning at them.
âAlright, angel, Iâm in. Whatever you want,â Changbin shrugged, winking at you before turning to the row of coats hanging by the door and pulling his off the hook.
But Chanâs huff stopped you both, eyebrows furrowed. âIt's getting dark, we can't go out tonight. Weâll have to wait till morning.âÂ
You frowned at him as he crossed his arms over his chest, âJust for a little bit? I promise weâll come in before it gets too dark and cold, but we canât just wait till morning! Itâll be done snowing by then. Come on Channie, please?â You pouted up at him.
âYeah come on Channie, please?â Changbin pouted, the same sad expression on your face mirrored on his.
Chan looked between the two of you for a minute before rolling his eyes and snatching his coat off the hanger. You and Changbin both giggled in excitement, finishing putting on your layers as quickly as possible so Chan couldnât change his mind.Â
Changbin reached out to you to help you off the floor, both of you about to dart out into the cold when a hand caught yours; Chan had a soft smile on his face and took a step forward, making you both nearly nose to nose. The butterflies in your stomach floated up into your chest and got caught in your throat; seeing him so close always did that to you. His dimples deepened for a second before he looked over your shoulder, presumably at Changbin, and rolled his eyes. The moment was gone, but you still felt the sparkles of electricity bouncing around you as he wrapped another scarf around your neck and pulled you outside.
The snow wasn't coming down too hard, but you didnât care. The setting sun lit up the clouds from the inside, bathing everything in a muted glow that felt like something out of a movie. It was like your own personal snow globe, and you couldnât think of anyone youâd rather be with.Â
The three of you wandered around, not seeing a single other person as you walked. Changbin had steered you off the beaten path and into a large clearing youâd never seen before. The entire expanse was covered in a perfect, even layer of snow. The three of you all exchanged looks and less than 10 seconds later, you simultaneously decided to run out into the field and start throwing it at each other.Â
You couldnât remember the last time you had laughed so hard or had so much fun. You felt like a kid again, playing outside with your two best friends; Chanâs nose was tinged pink and his grin absolutely infectious, and Changbin was giggling maniacally as he ran around, snowflakes clinging to the curly hairs sticking out from underneath his beanie.Â
âHey, that's not fair!â Changbin shouted as you and Chan teamed up to take him down, tackling him into the snow after he had managed to shove a handful of snow down your back and land a snowball to the side of Chanâs face.
âAll is fair in love and war, Binnie,â you laughed, collapsing onto your knees next to him, slightly breathless.
âAnd you definitely started it so donât even complain about whatâs fair, Bin,â Chan chastised playfully, slumping over onto your back, chin resting on the top of your hat covered head. âWe should get going though, itâs gonna be dark soon.âÂ
You agreed, Chan helping you up before you both dragged a whining Changbin off the ground and out of the field. The trek back was quiet, but comfortable. The darkening sky had shifted into a dreamy muted purple. Walking in the lavender haze sent a bittersweet pang through your chest; you wished the three of you could stay in this moment forever. You would never get sick of the feeling of their hands in yours, but they werenât yours. And you would never risk the friendship between the three of you to choose between them. Instead, you tried to remember every detail about that day, burning the memory of it into your mind.Â
âWhatâs going on angel?â Changbin asked, squeezing your hand softly as he pulled you to a stop, both he and Chan looking concerned. âYou look like youâre about to cry.â
You shook your head, smiling at them softly, âNo, Binnie. Iâm perfect, just trying to make sure I always remember today. I canât remember ever being so happy.â You saw both Chan and Changbin get shy, turning away from you to hide their smiles, making you chuckle.
Chan cleared his throat, âAlright, no more distractions maâam. Time to head home to thaw you out,â he said, grabbing your hand in his again and pulling you behind him.Â
Changbin quickly grabbed your free hand, matching the swift pace Chan set, âHeâs right you know, we donât need you to turn into a snow angel, now do we?â
By the time the three of you made it inside, your teeth were chattering and you could barely feel your fingers or toes. âBin, wanna make our girl some hot cocoa to defrost? Miss maâam here has been trying to get her shoes untied for the last 5 minutes,â he joked.
You stuck your tongue out at him as Changbin laughed, disappearing into the kitchen. âAre you just gonna be a meanie or are you gonna help me out, Christopher Bang?â
âNo,â he whined, ânot the full name!â You rolled your eyes and held your boot-clad foot up to him with a raised eyebrow. A smile broke on his face and he grabbed your boot and yanked it right off you, the other following immediately after. âAnything else, maâam?â
You giggled and shook your head, pulling him into the living room into the spot next to you on the couch. You busied yourself with setting up the Muppets Christmas Carol from where you had previously abandoned it as Changbin shuffled in.Â
âAngel, this one's for you,â he beamed, placing the cup in your hands. He gave the other mug to Chan before sinking into your other side, sandwiching you between them. You let the two of them warm you up as you finished the movie, stealing glances at both of them out of the corner of your eye. Their eyes were sparkling with joy as they watched, making your heart feel like it was being wrapped in cotton candy.Â
As the credits began, you heard Chan sigh, making you look at him in concern. âWhatâs up Channie.â He made eye contact with Changbin over your shoulder, mouth opening and closing as his eyes flicked between the two of you.Â
But it was Changbinâs voice that cut through the silence, âWe should date.â
âWhat?â you nearly screamed, whipping around to look at him. âWe canâtâI meanâI canâtâour friendshipâandââ
âWhat Changbin meant to say,â Chan scoffed, grabbing your hand, âwas that weâve talked about it and we think that all three of us should be together. Like officially.â
âYeah, I mean. We all hang out all the time anyway, so we should just add kissing and real dates and commitment to it. Because Iâve had a crush on both of you for⊠ever.â Changbin admitted, tucking his chin into his chest with a sheepish smile.
âMe too, IâI donât want to be with anyone else,â Chan stuttered, âU-unless you donât feel theââ
âI definitely feel the same,â you whispered, goosebumps breaking out across your arms as your heart started fluttering in your chest.
âWell then maâam, what do you say? Can we be your boyfriends?â Chan teased, whispering in your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.
âDonât leave us hanging, angel,â Changbin cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.
You couldnât find the words to answer them, simply squeezing their hands and nodding, earning a squeal of happiness from Changbin that dissolved into giggles from the three of you and a flurry of kisses against your cheek from Chan.
âI guess itâs time for our first official fight as your boyfriends, angelâŠâ Changbin sighed after he stopped giggling, making you frown and cup his face.
âWhy? Whatâre we fighting about Binnie? Whatâs wrong?â You asked.
âIsnât it obvious?â Chan asked, âWe have to fight over who gets to kiss you first.â

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me when i procrastinate as well
idk what it is about this particular bin but this fit is SOO flattering on himâŠâŠ.. itâs giving Good Little Boyâąïž.
good boy changbin who is as sweet as pie <3 heâs such a respectable young man. always smiling, always lending a helping hand or a listening ear to anyone who needs it. heâs so polite too; he bows low and opens doors and signs thank you letters whenever his mom asks. changbin is just as sweet when it comes to you because he loves you, maybe even sweeter if you can believe that. everyone wants a piece of seo changbin, but only youâre allowed the luxury.
good boy changbin who lets you be his first. lets you see him bare and sweaty and blushing pretty pink all the way down the bulk of his strong chest. his cock is blushing just as pretty, and he nearly cries when you cup his balls in your hand before circling the fingers of your other hand around his leaky tip. youâll never forget the noise he makes when you rub the pad of your finger gently over his clenching hole. changbin tells you please in such a pitiful voice. can i please put it inside? please tell me what to do, please show me. can i please cum? pleasepleaseplease. and you donât have the heart to tell him no when heâs being such a polite boy.
good boy changbin who invites you over for the first time to meet his family and follows you straight into the bathroom before dinner so he can drop to his knees to get a face full of your cunt. whatâs a little appetizer before dinner is served? your perfect pussy is his favorite meal anyway, and ever since the first time he had it, heâs been obsessed. you canât even lock the door before heâs bunching your dress up, pulling your cute cotton panties to the side, and lapping at your clit. youâre lucky youâve trained him well and that he knows exactly how to have you cumming quickly on his tongue.
good boy changbin who might just be a little bit of a pervert when it comes to you. you think itâs cute when he asks for your panties. used, heâll say, please yeobo? tease him for being a sleazy little perv and his cock will chub up right there. heâll beat his fat cock raw with your worn panties held up to his nose, or with the gusset sucked into his mouth, or maybe heâll wrap the fabric around his cock while he works it instead. as long as heâs surrounded by you in some way, heâll be cumming so hard his toes curl in no time. heâll return your panties washed and wrinkle free the next time he sees you, paired with that shy, downturned smile you love so damn much.
good boy changbin who takes you out on the lake in his brand new boat and fingers you in the captainâs seat until youâre squirting. tucks you tight to his body and pistons two thick fingers into your sopping cunt until your legs are clamping shut around his wrist. âplease? please, yeobo pleasepleaseplease. you have to, you have to baby, please? i feel it, itâs right there!â and of course the desperation from your sweet boy has you cumming in a heartbeat. your warm juices splash all over his forearm and the wheel of the boat. you could tell him to lick it all up and he would without question.
good boy changbin who sneaks you off during a golf tournament at the country club to fuck you in the pool house. you look so pretty in your pleated skirt that he couldnât help himself. heâd have fucked you in the golf cart if no one else was around, but the stuffy pool house will just have to do. his neat, crisp white slacks are scrubbed dirty at the knees from where heâs fucking you into the bubbly pink pool floaty. his collared shirt is pulled askew by your roaming hands, and his curly hair is equally as disheveled. if the pool boy walks in on accident, changbin finds him later and hands him so much money that heâll never need another tip again.
good boy changbin who is such a good listener. it makes him the perfect partner, heâs so dedicated and devoted to your pleasure that it fuels him in bed. changbin wants instructions. heâs obedient to a fault and even more praise driven, and thereâs not much he wonât do to get you cumming. heâll warm your clit in his mouth until his drool is seeping onto the floor, heâll harness a strap on over his underwear and fuck you with that if you want something longer than his cock. you have an always-available seat on his precious face if you ever want it.
ăDrabble Challengeă · #3
SCRATCH POST â„ He claims the letter 'S' stands for a lot of things this weekend: Sun, sea, sand, Sex on the Beach... You're not about to admit that out loud, but you're secretly hoping he doesn't solely mean the cocktail.
Because damn he's bringing sexy back.
â„ Best friend!Chris x Reader (f) â 3.7k (so much for a drabble)
â„ Prompt(s) requested: 46 || There will be multiple versions of this prompt.
℠The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.
â â Public sex, heavy thirst turning wholesome.
âIâll go for a dip,â he placed his shades on the little side table between you, âThen letâs eat. Iâm starving.â
The response on the tip of your tongue was way too X-rated for 2 in the afternoon, so you nodded with a warm smile instead and watched him disappear into the sea.
When Chris suggested balling out on a beach weekend to get over the thesis defense PTSD, you didnât even think twice. Hell yeah to a much-deserved vacation with your best friend, daydrinking until you got shitfaced over pretty cocktails at the beach club.Â
If you claimed the prospect of seeing him half naked had nothing to do with how much you were looking forward to this trip, instant VIP space in hell for you.
For years, it was like there was this unspoken rule between you that prevented doing something utterly stupid, and you pretty much friendzoned each other as if it was government mandated. He was kind, not to mention so pleasing to look atâof course you would develop a stupid crush much like everyone who sighed after him when he walked by, but nothing to make a big deal out of. It was eventually going to go away. It had to. No crush lasted that long.
Growing up together has its cons. You canât really notice whatâs right in front of your nose because youâre not programmed to perceive it a certain way.Â
But something began to crack inside you when Chris started becoming a man. All of a sudden, he wasnât the cute dork you knew anymore.Â
His features sharpened along with his jawline. His voice got deeper along with his gaze, and you realized the things you wanted to do with his sculpted body had long crossed the border of wholesome cuddling. He felt too firm under your touch to be a mere pillow anyway. Your banters turned into relentless flirting that always ended with smug grins, but it still didnât go past that.
Growing up together has its cons. You canât really notice whatâs right in front of your nose because youâre not programmed to perceive it a certain way. As an object of desire, to be precise.Â
That afternoon on the beach, however, Chris was literally forcing his way into your tunnel vision. When he got out of the water, he somehow managed to bend time, and everything turned into slow motion.Â
Your brainrot got way out of hand.
His curls were still somewhat visible despite his wet hair, and his shorts sticking to his thick thighs were not leaving anything to the imagination. Your eyes were following each drop trickling down his chiseled torso, and you were a minor breeze away from jumping him to lick all the salt off his skin. When he raised his arms to wash his hair under the cold shower, the muscles on his back strained so hard that you were visibly dripping between your legs.
Good god, this fucking scratch post.
After all those years youâd known Chris, one thing was still a medical mystery. You had no idea how a person could look extremely hot doing the most benign things. Walking, drinking water, breathingâŠÂ
âAre you still firm on sunbathing, or can we take shelter in a cabana?â he woke you up from your violent delusions while drying himself with a towel.
âI could use some shade,â you pressed your legs together and pretended his god-like figure had absolutely no effect on you, âWanna hit the bar first?â
âIâd kill for a Sex on the Beach right now.â
Sure. Why suggest any other drink when the corniest fucking innuendo existed, right?!
You and me both, brother, you wanted to say but opted for biting your tongue, silently picking up your things and heading to the palm-decorated area behind you.
âCan we have two Sex on the Beââ
âNuh uh, make it a pitcher please,â you hijacked his order, âThe gentleman here doesnât know what heâs talking about.â
Because it was firmly established that you werenât going to be able to survive the day if you werenât at least moderately buzzed around this menace. While waiting for your drinks, Chris looked you up and down for no reason at all and furrowed his brows when he took notice of something.
âYou came to the beach wearing fucking lipgloss?â
âItâs called a balm, you peasant,â you corrected him, âTo prevent my lips from getting chapped.â
âSo not to make them look more kissable or anything,â he leaned against the counter with a shit-eating grin.
See, it was things like this that made your palms itch, making you feel like you were being put to some test. This motherfucker thought he was oh so irresistible, which he was to be frank, but he had no idea the kind of hell you could drag him through if you snapped. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to shoo the urges trying to override your sanity.
âYouâre making fun of my skincare products, but youâre wearing fucking cologne,â you scoffed.
âNo, Iâm not.â
âYes, you are! You smell like candy.â
âOR maybe my pheromones just smell sweet to you.â
You wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face so hard, but unfortunately for you, it was at moments like this that your lizard brain was telling you to get on your knees and suck him dry.
âPheromones do not release themselves, you know?â you shrugged and placed your elbows on the bar counter, âMaybe something triggered it.â
He chuckled, very much entertained, but didnât answer. As you were hyperfocused on the mixology show in front of you, you could feel Chrisâ eyes practically parkouring all over your body, and it was tickling something inside you. When your order was fulfilled, he picked up the tray and headed to the nearest cabana. While you were busy pouring generous amounts of the orangy drink over ice, he took his sweet time fishing for something from his bag and eventually handed you a bottle of sunscreen.
âCream me, will you?â
Okay, thatâs enough!
Not if he creamed himself first. That word choice was fucking deliberate, and if he thought you werenât going to retaliate anymore just because you were playing nice all this timeâŠ
You took a big sip from your drink staring at him, then snatched the bottle from his hand. He sat at the very edge of the mattress and downed his entire glass in one go as if he were merely drinking water. You werenât sure what exactly was the cause of the excessive thirstâhis earlier hardcore swimming session, orâŠÂ
You positioned yourself right behind him comfortably, perfectly aligning your body against his, and let your legs dangle from either side of him. While the point was to fluster him, you were hit with a sudden realization.
You had never been this close to him before.
To make matters worse, Chris had just gotten out of the cool sea water and taken an even colder shower, but his body was on fire like heâd been sitting under the sun for hours, emitting all the heatwave back at you. In all senses of the word.Â
You knew you were too close, but so did he. When you didnât do anything, he briefly looked to his left side, not turning around all the way back, but it was enough for you to see the playful smile on his lips. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of what your task was supposed to be, then sprayed several splashes of the coconutty liquid on his back.Â
He hissed loudly when you established that first skin-to-skin contact.
âCold?â
âYeah,â he uttered a little too breathily, âbut I like it.â
Well, if he liked this, thenâŠ
You pressed your palms on his shoulders and started running your hands down his arms. Much more slowly than you should have. The sunscreen was almost like a massage oil substitute for the way you were moving. When the pressure of your touch increased, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed down, his body unintentionally leaning into you.
âTanned skin suits you so much,â you confessed in a whisper with no ulterior motive for once, âI really like it.â
Chris always sucked at taking compliments, but you could tell how much he was enjoying it from the muffled chuckle he let out.
âA little bit down.â
âI donât think youâre supposed to give instructions when youâre getting creamed, Christopher.â
You removed your hands from his arms and placed two fingers on his nape, sliding it down his spine and watching how you were breaking goosebumps on his skin. And that was the moment your intrusive thoughts took complete control.Â
When you reached right between his shoulder blades, your feathery touches mutated into a scratch. You sized him up, waiting for a sign of discomfort, but all you saw was the way he bit his lips.Â
He loved this.
Your breathing on his back pleasantly tickling him, you kept drawing slow, random lines without a particular destination in mind, culminating into an accidental discovery. The dent right under his left shoulder blade. He sharply inhaled.
Very interesting.
âYouâre sensitive here, huh?â you quietly observed.
âM-Maybe.â
âWhat happens if I kiss you there?â
âDonâtâ!â
Before he could finish his warning, you kissed that spot, and he let slip a full on dragged out moan. The real heat of his skin was nothing short of hellfire. The shape of your moist lips started appearing all over his back, spiking an urge to go full territorial and cover him with kiss marks. His soft but still ecstatic whines were so cute, but you wanted to hear it louder. He shuddered when you pressed your breasts against his bare back.Â
You let your instincts take the wheel, wrapping one arm around his waist, then sliding your hand inside his still-damp shorts.Â
âW-What are you doing?â
âHelping myself,â you quietly responded while kissing his back.
Never in a million years would you be able to guess you would one day feel Chris under your palm. Throbbing. Leaking. For you. He was mouthwateringly hard, and with every lazy stroke, he was letting go a bit more. He threw his head back and rested his nape on your right shoulder. You kissed his fully exposed neck. You kissed his shoulders. He was melting into a puddle already, and if you kept this up, he wasnât going to be able to recover from the embarrassment of the mess he was about to cause.
âEnjoying ourselves, are we?â you smiled against his neck.
âEnjoying?â he creased his brows, âDo you not realize how hard I am right now?â
âVery,â you observed in a serious tone, âAm I hurting you?â
âYouâre going to if you donât do something about it.â
All of a sudden, you pulled your hand back, and Chris crashed into reality headfirst. He let out such a disappointed groan, but it quickly turned into a much bigger anticipation when he watched you close the drapes and turn around again.
âLike what?â you asked while taking careful steps towards him.
He lost the ability to speak.Â
You gently pushed on his chest to signal him to move backwards. He wasnât able to take his eyes off of you, just watching you crawl towards him like a crouching tiger until his back hit the wooden surface behind him.
âLike sitting on it maybe?â you straddled him with unrushed movements.
Feeling your heat on his cock even through those layers of fabric almost fried his brain. He was looking up at you with huge eyes and parted lips, incredulous that you were actually on his lap. As you were grinding on him torturously slowly, he was gawking at your breasts, not being able to figure out how he could touch you everywhere all at once.
âWanna feel them?â
If he didnât nod way too enthusiastically for his own good, maybe it wouldnât occur to you to block his attempt to cop a feel at the last second.
âYou didnât say please,â you tsked in disapproval, âNot very gentlemanly of you.â
Chris closed his eyes and bit into his smile, fully aware how his go-to line to tease you had backfired on him. If only he knew for how long you were collecting things to throw back at his faceâŠ
âPlease.â
âPlease what?â
He was getting visibly embarrassed no matter how much he was trying to play it cool. You didnât think this could get any more entertaining than it already was, but oh wellâŠÂ
âCan I please touch?â
âTouch where?â
When he attempted to touch you, you stopped him from his wrists. Or more like he let you stop him considering his inhumane strength. You lifted his arms, pushed them back, and leaned into his face.
âTouch where?â
âYourâYour tits.â
As a response, you placed his hands on your breasts and squeezed them on his behalf, causing him to gulp so thickly and twitch under you. You honestly werenât expecting such strong reactions from him, making this moment all the more satisfying for you. When you threw your arms around his neck, he took that as an opening to free your breasts and immediately started sucking on the sensitive flesh.Â
If this was how he made out with your nipples, ainât no telling what he would do on your clit.
He could feel how you were reacting to him now, softly moaning and clenching on top of him, but it wasnât enough. How could it ever be enough? He looked up at you once again and pulled you close to kiss you, butâŠ
âBe patient,â you stopped him. Again.
His face fell, but it wasnât necessarily because you didnât grant permission. It was a certain word you used that got him almost mad.
âIsnât ten fucking years enough patience for you?â
The smug smile you were wearing all this time erased itself.
Growing up together has its cons. You canât really notice whatâs right in front of your nose because youâre not programmed to perceive it a certain way. As an object of desire, to be precise. And when you realize you do, you have to put a leash on it so as not to lose the one thing that matters the most to you.
Sometimes for ten years.
âI can finally touch you,â Chris kissed your collarbones, and the desperation in his voice was growing stronger, âIâm about to fucking lose it, please.âÂ
It almost made you cave.
The smile that reappeared on your lips was simply diabolical. If only he could shut himself up, you wouldnât be teasing him so much, but he was giving you weapon after weapon. It wasnât your faultâhe put it in your head.
âSorry,â you kissed his nose and uttered regretfully, âI donât remember cumming.â
It suddenly turned into a staredown. Without looking away, he slid your bikini to the side and pressed his fingers on your clit, immediately deliquescing whatever amount of stubbornness you still put up.Â
âYouâre wet,â he spoke from between your breasts, still drawing delicious circles, âAdmit it. This is because you watched me shower, right?â
âW-What shower?â
âCome on, baby girl. I saw you staring,â his grin made a comeback, âI think itâs only polite if I clean up after myself, donât you reckon?â
The way he was beyond himself just pleasuring you, completely lost in ecstasy was one of the sexiest things youâd ever witnessed. Nevertheless, you were still wondering how much further you could push it without giving him what he was deeply craving.
âNo.â
âLet me eat it.â
âBut no.â
âLet me!â
His frustration had no business being this cute. Ever so merciful, you finally decided to do him a favor since he insisted.
âI should cream your face, too, right?â you brushed your thumbs on his cheeks, âFor good measure.â
The maniacal glint in his eyes was almost dangerous. He slid down in his place to make you sit on his face, not even letting you strip, and he hooked his fingers in your bottoms to expose you. When he finally started dragging his tongue all over your cunt, it was with so much appetite that you almost let a scream slip for how intense the feeling was.Â
He was getting the sloppy kiss you denied him from your pussy.Â
His hands were all over your body, groping whatever piece of flesh he could reach, and every command he received, he fulfilled it to perfection. To tease faster. To suck harder. To moan louder. This much obedience was the last thing you expected from him.Â
âChris, Iâm gâ Fuck, too much!â
He didnât care. You promised to cream his face for good measure, so every drop he could get, he was going to, especially when you were cumming that hard in his mouth. He timed your contractions to decide when you were finally coming down, then climbed back up to pull you on his lap again.
You finally kissed him.
When your lips touched his after two forevers, he heaved a deep and content sigh in your mouth. You could taste the Sex on the Beach on his tongue. And the sea. And yourself.Â
And pure lust.Â
Growing up together has its cons. You canât really notice whatâs right in front of your nose because youâre not programmed to perceive it as an object of desire, but once you do, there is absolutely nothing you can do to take it back.
You dragged down the waist of his shorts to free him and were instantly hit with the fact that touching it and seeing it with your own eyes were entirely different experiences. He looked concerningly scrumptious, and you couldnât even begin to imagine the type of pleasure he was capable of providing you. You aligned his girth with your entrance, and the groans he let out as he was sinking into you were alarming, to say the least.
âHoly shit, thatâs⊠TIGHT!âÂ
âShh, people are going to hear you,â you covered his mouth, but couldnât help laughing at his overenthusiasm either.
âLook at my forehead,â he removed your hand, âDoes it say I give a fuck?âÂ
âNo?â
âItâs because I donât,â he groped your sides once he bottomed out, âNow letâs fuck, baby.â
Yes, you had imagined this very moment in your most inappropriate thoughts, maybe even in excruciating detail when you were touching yourself, and the context was always more or less the same. Chris, the number one frequenter of your wet dreams, spewing profanities at your face while defiling you to his heartâs content.
That afternoon on that beach, however, it was your favorite person in the whole wide world, hugging your waist, looking deep into your eyes to keep track of exactly how he was making you feel so that he could move better for you. Every time he extracted a muffled moan out of you, every time he made you curse, every time you squeezed your eyes and sank your fingertips deeper into his skin for how good you were feeling, his own pleasure quadrupled.
Even though you were fucking as hard as you always thought you would, you had never pictured it to be this⊠visceral.
âOur first time,â he smiled against your neck and swelled your heart in your chest five times its size, âFinally.â
âStop being so adorable!â
âWhy?â he looked at you with his usual smug smile again, âDoes it make you wanna fuck me harder?â
âIt kinda does, yeah.â
He latched himself on your lips and kept kissing you for god knows how long. Feeling him this close and his refusal to be away from you simultaneously made you wetter and induced an intense desire to cry.
Out of happiness.
âFuck me harder,â he spoke into your mouth, âScratch me again.â
âOR,â you echoed his much earlier remark, âmaybe I deny you until you snap.â
âYou realize I fucking bench your weight, right?â
In the blink of an eye, you found yourself on your back. You instinctively started laughing for you were caught completely off guard, but it instantaneously disappeared when you realized how much his gaze had darkened.
âI said scratch,â he firmly commanded this time while placing one leg on his shoulder, âLike I said. Cream me.â
You were loving this shade on him.
His thrusts suddenly turned much sharper, and you couldnât remember the last time you were fucked this good. Completely carnally with kisses turning into bites and touches shapeshifting into needy gropes all over. You were so wet with how aroused you were that you could feel yourself dripping down your ass, and when you finally started dragging your nails down Chrisâ back, precisely when you reached that spot, his orgasm hit him so hard that he had to slam his lips on yours to silence himself.
You never realized how much more beautiful he could get with afterglow, resting his head on your chest.Â
âSo Iâm thinking having two separate rooms is not exactly frugal,â he finally looked up at you, âWe can share mine.â
âWhy yours?â
âIt has a hot tub.â
âIsnât sleeping on the couch gonna be uncomfortable for you?â
In all fairness, you had deserved to get tickled to death for that snark, and no amount of âIâm sorryâs were enough to save your ass.
âIf you wanna play it that way, then weâre not leaving this cabana,â he trapped you under his frame.
âItâs gonna get cold,â you started playing with his hair, reciprocating his mischievous grin, âThere are no blankets here.â
âIâm gonna give you three guesses for how weâll keep warm all night,â he kissed your hand, âIf you canât get it right, Iâm eating your pussy until you cry.â
âHugging.â
âNo.â
âCuddling.â
âNo.â
âFucking?â
His eyes glinted the same way they did when you suggested creaming his face for good measure, and he started slithering down between your legs.
âNo.âÂ
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