➥ Contains: No SKZ: fellas are in some imaginary group bc they be toxic, down horrendous Hyunjin agenda™, an unhinged kiwi, Chris the Hyun whisperer, idol industry diss, meta fandom shenanigans, doubling tripling down on the delulu because it's the solulu, gratuitous amounts of Hyunchanner fan service because i can, insane shit then wholesomeness midfuck per youzhe
➥ Reader discretion advised: See the masterlist for the full disclaimer about this project, general warnings, and request guidelines. By continuing, you accept to read at your own risk.
⚠ — (Non-exhaustive, full cw policy here): Corruption fetishism, objectification, MMF, sex with other people present in the room, overall irrational behavior
➥ Hyunjin doesn’t fuck around when it comes to biases—if you’re ulting him, you’re ulting him, period. If you can so casually announce you’re getting “biaswrecked”, he can and will wreck you back.
But sign the NDA first.
*a/n: Back on my irregularly scheduled Derangedjin bullshit because June sucked.
I just want to receive love.
Ask any survival show contestant why they want to become an idol, and that’s the bullshit they’ll feed you with a wholesome smile, which is the politically correct way of saying, “I want to be worshipped.” No one even judges them for it because new gods on the block will always be in demand.
Fresh meat and whatnot, you know.
The only catch is you’re no longer allowed to worship anyone if you have worshippers yourself. Have you ever seen a god who simps for her own devotees?
Please.
If you “make it”, there is only one law you have to abide by—stick to your meticulously crafted persona and be generous with fanservice, and almost a decade into his career, Hyunjin hasn’t had a problem with it. He does study the faces of his “regulars” before he goes into fancalls. He does flirt a little extra with them at fansigns, holding their hands a little longer, a little tighter, less tsun more dere, even sharing little intimate details of his private life only they are privy to.
Well, allegedly.
That’s the least he can do for his off-the-books sugar mamas, no? He is a part of a grand romance scam after all.
It doesn’t mean he’s never struggled with keeping up the act, of course. With all the things he has to suppress, all the things he cannot scream at certain entitled brats’ faces, some days he does come very very close to snapping. What’d you expect? He is trapped in a life he hates doing something he loves.
Which is why it’s Stockholm as fuck that he’s found distraction from his delulu dealer duties by completely leaning into it.
It’s not even guilty, just pure pleasure for him to browse through fan work. As if he needs any more reasons to inflate his behemoth of an ego… Over time, his fandom has become a point of pride with him—so much talent scratching his Stendhal itch just right. The origin point doesn’t matter; the end result is still solid fucking art. It’s like he’s the Beatrice to a thousand Dantes.
Maybe “Like artist, like fan” does have some merit to it.
The literature department of his counterfeit Renaissance cult is where things get a little more unhinged. Some of these people write him so vividly, so intensely sexy that if Hyunjin could fuck himself, he would. It’s kinda disappointing that there is a strict hush-hush rule about fan spaces, which forces him to pretend he doesn’t know what a Kinktober is. Otherwise, he would have loved to send some flowers, signed merch, fucking fan club membership as a thank you for all the nuts busted. When the average market value for life-changing orgasms is in three to four digits, a cup of coffee seems criminally low.
Is it still sex work if someone makes you cum without touching you at all?
Among the sea of creators he religiously follows, of course he has favorites, and whoever goes by zipcode10320 tops that chart. He finds the hardcore shipping fucking hilarious, but he actually respects the preferred method of worship. The thirst might be heavy, but unlike the bitches practically living outside his apartment, it’s at least from a non-suffocating distance.
From a... distance...
anonymous asked:
what if hyunjin is deadass reading you lol
A decade-long career with a fake boyfriend side hustle. Five restraining orders. Three court appearances. Endless blacklists…
Hyunjin lived to see the day where it’s the distance that suffocates him.
He never thought one day he’d find himself on the other side of the fence like this. It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he just can’t tell what it is about this person he’s so hung up on. He has a battalion of authors writing about him, so what’s so special about this one? Is it a style thing? Is it the subject matter? Why is he looking forward to the next character he’ll play like it’s the next season of his favorite show? Why is he getting this ticklish feeling for no reason whenever he scrolls through a new drop in his bed? It’s as if the words are laced with something because he only feels it when he reads.
But what the fuck IS IT that he’s feeling?!
zipcode10320 replied:
im pretty sure he has a life 🤣 on the super off chance that he does tho, hi bby save me from my misery and swipe my v-card plz 💋
Huh…
Well, now he knows.
So it wasn’t for no reason that he turned into a shark—there was blood in the water, and it reeked of the proverbial innocence. So all that lustful longing you keep writing… All that unhinged sex you keep depicting…
Is that…? How you want to be…? By him?
It’s too late when he realizes his fascination with the “art” has turned into something else entirely, but he can’t stop it. He just can’t! It’s in his every waking thought that someone out there loves him just a few drops shy of unconditionally, wanting him with lust so carnal that the desire can no longer stay inside its shell. It jumps into a getaway car with words for engine and fucks right off, all gas no brakes, because it has to get to him as fast as it can. It has to exist in the same corporeal realm as Hyunjin so it can call out to him. It’s in his every waking thought that a god out there compulsively conjures little Hyuniverses, unable to contain the fond smile whenever they doodle his name on a surface, be it cellulose or binary codes.
Hyunjin as a psycho.
Hyunjin as a prince.
Hyunjin as a psycho prince.
Hyunjin as the meaning of life.
Hyunjin as the meaning of MY life.
Hyunjin.
Hyunjin.
HYUNJIN!!!
anonymous asked:
if he asks you to give your virginity to him ur ACTUALLY gonna say yes?
zipcode10320 replied:
who tf says no to hwang hyunjin fucking BET!!!
anonymous asked:
what if he’s a freak tho
zipcode10320 replied:
if the freak is me getting sandwiched between hyunchan i volunteer as tribute thank 😌
anonymous asked:
what if IM hyunjin and ur just giving me ideas lol
zipcode10320 replied:
even IM not that delulu bro cmon
Well, maybe you should get on his delulu level because there is some freak that needs to be matched here. It’s okay if you can’t right from the get-go; he has all the time in the world for you. He can show you everything. How to match it. How to get him there. How he will get you there. Everything. Everything you can imagine, he will teach you with utmost care.
But he needs to complete a little self-assigned mission first.
He starts bringing his notebook to every single fan event to take notes of his interactions. Mannerisms, tone of voice, clothes worn that day, some word that sticks out to him… Whenever someone asks what he’s writing so fervently, his go-to excuse is, “Things that inspire me before I forget”. He does show a few actual snippets to cover his tracks, and luckily, all he gets in response is dreamy sighs and, “Oh my god, you’re like sooo romantic!” instead of suspicious looks.
It’s called a “bias” for a reason.
It doesn’t matter if your face doesn’t show in your posts. He has all your notifications on, so every fancall or concert video you share, every photo captioned with “They don’t know I’m zipcode10320” goes straight to his “data” folder where he compares his “field notes”. It doesn’t take too long for him to finally put a face to the name, and the satisfaction of victory weirdly feels like afterglow. He doesn’t smoke, but he craves a cigarette all of a sudden.
His fascination with you mutates into infatuation so fast, he might just blurt out a marriage proposal next time he sees you.
He keeps waiting for you to pick up what he’s putting down, but you seem a bit too insistent with that godforsaken “respect to his personal space” thing. What personal space? There is no personal space when it comes to the two of you; don’t you get it? You need to occupy the exact same space so he can be where he’s meant to be. As your very first. As your very last. So he can be your muse for the rest of your life. Can you even imagine the stories he’ll inspire you to tell if you spend just one night with him?
Don’t get it twisted, that’s just a figure of speech. He can’t and won’t settle for anything less than a couple of hundred nights with you. You know, to teach. So that the freak can match perfectly in the finale.
Unfortunately for him, the news of the iceberg arrives before he can finish packing for the maiden voyage, and for the first time ever, Hyunjin wishes he was blind so he wouldn’t be able to read your words.
zipcode10320
guys im this 🤏 close to ulting the shit out of chris hes been wrecking me left and right this comeback SEND HALP
Oh, you just… Oh, you fucking did not…
Really? That’s the extent of your loyalty? One whore goes Magic Mike, and all of a sudden you’re wrecked? Did the memories you shared mean jack shit to you? Weren’t you the one going on and on about him being your muse just YESTERDAY?!
Oh, you’re gonna get wrecked alright.
“Jiwon, do you have an NDA copy on hand?” Hyunjin addresses the driver in the front seat, his eyes still glued to his phone.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he opens his contacts and dials a number. “Turn the car around.”
“Where to, sir?”
“I’ll tell you in a bit.”
The car completes the U-turn after the third ringback tone, and a trollmeister voice answers the call on the other end.
“Yo, Hyunzales.”
“Where are you?”
“Fucking your girl in the backseat of my car.”
“I know you’re ragebaiting, but do you want to?”
The elongated silence on the line lets Hyunjin know that the hunter was successfully hunted. He softly chuckles to himself, amused by his triumph.
“Pussy got your tongue, motherfucker?”
“You’d actually give the fic girl to me?” Chris asks for good measure, his rabid giddiness spilling all over his voice.
“Calm the fuck down. No one said anything about giving you stuff,” Hyunjin sternly corrects. “I’m just inviting you to come play.”
“You’re the pettiest, most possessive man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing, and that includes the GOAT Joe Goldberg,” Chris starts a mini interrogation to do his due diligence. “If there is a chance for you to hit that yourself, how come you’re inviting me?”
“You fucking know why. I don’t trust myself,” he admits. “It’s not a random hookup. Bin’s hosting an opening ceremony tonight, and I want her there.”
“No fucking way…”
“Deadest of asses,” Hyunjin finally releases the death grip on his lips and lets them curl. “Meet me at his place if you’re interested. Otherwise, I’ll risk it all and go solo.”
“Race you there, fuckface.”
When the call disconnects, Hyunjin takes a deep breath to calm… his nerves? And well, his residual annoyance—he can’t be in that kinda headspace right now. He closes his eyes, and just the thought of your surprise is enough to put him in a good mood. He pulls up your profile again and presses play on the video from the concert two months ago, fondly smiling as he listens to you scream at the top of your lungs, “I’LL SIGN THE NDA, HYUNJIN, JUST ONE CHANCE!!!”
“Well, you said it yourself, beautiful,” he turns to his right, watching the nightlights pass by the tinted window. “Time to put your money where your mouth is.”
You blankly look at the man’s face for a solid ten seconds, unsure if you’ve heard it right, because there ain’t no way…
“Just to triple confirm,” you briefly squeeze your eyes close. “We’re talking about the performer Hwang Hyunjin, right?”
“Yes.”
“The art harlot Hwang Hyunjin.”
“Yes.”
“The Hwang Hyunjin.”
“Just assume every adjective you can think of is true, but if we could get to the matter at hand, please,” the man sighs, rapidly losing patience. “Mr. Hwang strongly wishes for your companionship tonight.”
cOmPaNiOnSh— What?
How would the man, the myth, the legend himself, the only baby daddy you’d be willing to accept, Hwang motherfucking Hyunjin even know you? This has to be a hidden camera prank or something!
As you suspiciously look the man up and down, however, you’re struggling to hold onto your prank theory. The weirdly familiar butler-henchman hybrid guy is clad in a crisp Dior suit, his nails are perfectly manicured, and his hair is so neatly coiffed that bro can walk a runway if he wants. Now you’re trying to logically explain why someone would send a man like this to locate you at this hour. Maybe if they are bored enough? But what entertainment can possibly come out of interrupting a plain mortal’s cocktail hour with their friends?
WHY would a Diorland resident want to locate YOU in the first place? There is literally NO possibility of your paths ever crossing!
“Wait, you’re in every single fansite picture when Hyunjin attends a public event,” Mina points at him, her face contorting with her revelation. “You’re Kim Jiwon, aren’t you?”
“I am,” the man acknowledges.
“How do you even know this guy?” you turn to Mina.
“Girl, even you know him,” she answers with a content smile. “He’s Hyunjin’s bodyguard.”
As you let out a long “Ohhh…”, it finally clicks in your mind why he seems so familiar. He pulls something out from the inside pocket of his blazer and clicks a silver pen.
“I’ve been told this was your own request,” he hands you an envelope containing a single sheet of paper. “You need to sign it before I can take you to him.”
There ain’t NO WAY…
You can see the words, but your brain refuses to process them. That’s it; you’ve been fangirling so hard that it has finally given you permanent brain damage, and now you’re hallucinating worse than ai. At least, that was how you were planning to plead insanity.
But the “OH MY GOD!”s raising from the table confirm that your friends can also see the title reads “Non-Disclosure Agreement”.
“Please don’t. This document contains sensitive information,” he snatches the paper from the prying eyes before they can commit it to memory, and points at the bottom. “If you won’t be signing it, please let me know right now, so I can relay it to Mr. Hwang. This is a time-sensitive issue.”
“T–Time-sensitive?!” you widen your eyes. “Can’t I at least tell my friends where I’m going so they know I’m safe?”
“No, you can’t, but I’m obligated to ensure your protection just as much as Mr. Hwang’s,” he indirectly informs the table. “This isn’t a job offer, so there is nothing to contemplate here. It’s just a promise that you will be discreet about the time you will be spending in Mr. Hwang’s company. Yes or no.”
Yet another “OH MY GOD!” erupts from the table, and by then, Jiwon is at his limit. Before he rescinds the invitation altogether, you lunge at the document telling you to shut the fuck up and sign it. You don’t have one logical answer as to how the Hwang Hyunjin knows you, or why he, quote, “strongly wishes for your companionship”. But the three Cosmopolitans in your bloodstream convince you that making shady deals in the middle of a restaurant is a great idea. And that you will regret it if you don’t go all in tonight.
Whatevs, if anything goes off the rails, you’ll just scream bloody murder, and his career will be over before he can spell “handwritten apology”.
“If I don’t send a thumbs up within 15 minutes, call the police,” you quietly scheme with Mina as you take your sweet time gathering your belongings. “If I do send a thumbs up, call a mortician because his sheer hotness will fucking kill me.”
You follow Jiwon to the valet area, barely registering that he’s just opened the door to a Rolls-Royce Phantom for you. It’s a true test of willpower not to yell “SHUT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK UP!” as you get into the disgustingly smug flex all over Hyunjin’s socials. So it’s true. It’s actually true. You are being taken to the only man ever. For whatever fucking reason…
WHO CARES?!
You make it to the mystery venue in just under five minutes. As he accompanies you to the elevator, Jiwon hands you what looks like a gold-plated card, instructing you to just swipe it to reach your intended destination. So you do. With a thousand butterflies in your stomach, and still only half-believing that you’re about to appear before His Majesty.
Once you get out of that cabin, you can only see one large door at the end of the hallway. A light breeze of music leaks into the carpet-clad corridor. The distance you need to walk suddenly seems like miles long, and the entire time, you keep repeating to yourself, “What am I doing? What am I doing? What the ACTUAL FUCK am I doing?!”, which is entirely pointless considering you’ve already made it this far. Might as well see what’s behind door number two.
Well, door number 4001, to be exact.
Standing in front of the heavy-looking oak, you take the deepest breath of your life and ring the doorbell, your group chat still open in your hand just in case. After a ten-second silence, it finally opens.
Your knees damn near give way when you make eye contact with your greeter.
“Hey, beautiful,” the only man ever leans against the door frame with that sultry smile you know too well. “Remember me?”
You quickly send a thumbs-up emoji to the group chat and shove the phone inside your bag, having no idea what to do with yourself. It’s him. The man who stuns you when he just breathes, the man who has sheer grace and absolute harlotry running in his veins instead of blood is right there smiling at you. It’s REALLY him!
It is really him, but something is not.
Every memory you have of him suddenly flashes before your eyes. Every “private” moment you were lucky enough to share, the handholding, the small talks about his personal work, the eggplant lasagna jokes… All were so soft, so comfortable, and it was like that by design. Even though he knew your name, you were fully aware that this man was at work. That “See? I remember intimate details about you because you’ve made a mark on me” shtick was the first line of his job description. These guys were probably handed a study pack full of attendee information before those events anyway.
But right this moment, not even a shred of the sentimental soft boi is present in his demeanor. Eyes darkened, pupils dilated, posture relaxed, cunningly smirking. The man standing at door number 4001 isn’t Hwang Hyunjin.
It’s the fucking DEVIL!
“Uh… I feel like I need to make sure, just in case,” you shake your head to snap out of it. “You are aware I’m not an escort, right?”
“Why would you even say that?” he furrows his brows.
“I signed a document that says you want my companionship for an opening ceremony tonight?”
He’s so amused, he starts laughing, and you die a little bit. That part is at least the same. When he laughs, your heart still goes into overdrive.
“Yes, I’m aware,” he answers.
“How do you… even know me?” you hesitantly ask, making sure your tone wouldn’t make him think you’re displeased by the invitation. “I couldn’t come up with one reason why you of all people would look for me.”
But the way his face falls, he must be offended. You panic, trying to find ways to explain yourself and what you really meant by that. That he is a god walking among mortals, that you’re one of the aforementioned mortals, and that it just doesn’t make any sense why he wouldn’t summon a fellow goddess instead.
“See, I’m a glass-half-full kind of man,” he speaks through a sigh as he slowly approaches, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Some might say your zip code starts with 103. I say it ends with 320.”
No.
No, there ain’t NO MOTHERFUCKING WAY…
How is that even POSSIBLE?! How many degrees of separation have you been from Hyunjin all this time? Does one of your followers just HAPPEN to know him somehow? Then what, did they just show him the fucking embarrassing amounts of delusion? Did he at least get a good laugh out of it?
Seems a bit too late to deactivate now…
“Well, you asked for it yourself, didn’t you?” he chortles, lifting your chin. “You signed the NDA. Now’s your one chance.”
How are you still not passing out?
Fuck the how, he knows. He knows about it all, and you have never been this mortified about something in your damn LIFE! Your shame brute-forces its way into the main control room of your brain and disables all your cognitive functions.
You can’t think of ONE thing to say to him!
“Unless… You’d rather it was someone else instead,” he cocks a brow at your silence. “Someone who’s been wrecking you recently?”
“I… I–I’m… I don’t…”
The door he left ajar behind him opens again, and another familiar face peeks out, flashing you a pair of heart-stopping dimples.
“Fucking hot,” Chris bites his lips, resting his chin on Hyunjin’s shoulder while staring at you. “Lucked out with this one, huh, Hyun?”
WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN GOING ON RIGHT NOW?
Where did he come from all of a sudden? What does it all mean? And why is this whole thing starting to feel like a fujoshi trap?!
“It’s just a party,” Hyunjin reassuringly smiles, caressing your cheek as if to calm you down. “We’ll hang out, talk, have a couple of drinks, that kinda thing.”
He holds your hand and presses his lips on your wrist for at least a solid five seconds, deeply inhaling your scent, then looks at you with dreamy eyes.
“But if the fancy strikes,” he steps aside, gently pushing you from your waist to lead you in, “we can always party a little harder.”
Incredulous that you are actually flanked by your very own OTP, you walk into the gigantic suite where the chatter of the crowd melts into the music. You recognize a lot of these faces because it’s crawling with idols inside, but the sight is the furthest thing from variety show cutesiness. Their claim holds up. It is a party.
They just forgot to tell you what kind.
The front end is “frat”. Two fandoms are amidst a vicious fanwar online, yet their “oppas” are heavily broing it out, all clearly intoxicated, laughing their asses off as two of the bunch are trying to do body shots off of each other.
Whereas the back end is “swinger”. Socials are filled with snark about who paved the way, yet the younger artists are busy teaching their seniors how to eat their pussies properly. No one cares that they are in the presence of a crowd—they are going at it.
“How’d you like the cesspit black hole of bubblegum pop?” Chris asks, plopping down next to you on the giant sectional by the window, and hands you a glass of vodka on the rocks. “Not giving ‘ending fairy’ at all, yeah?”
“You don’t say,” you raise your brows. “Feels like I passed through an underworld portal just now.”
“So…” Hyunjin flings an arm around your shoulder, comfortably spreading his legs. “You’re a shipper.”
Your drink almost comes out of your nose with panic-slash-fluster. THAT’S how he chooses to bring it up?!
“It’s just entertainment,” you play it cool, trying to choose your words carefully. “I don’t actually believe you are in a relationship.”
“Even when we live together?”
“That’s not proof of anything.”
“Even when we shower together?” Chris presses. “Stuck in hotel rooms together for months on tour…”
“Everybody knows that’s a convenience thing when you’re strapped for time,” you refute.
“But what if Hyunchan is real, and we’re laughing our asses off hiding in plain sight?” he looks you up and down, annoyingly smirking. “Post a picture of me giving him head right now, and haters will still say it’s fanservice.”
“Didn’t you see the pepero thing?” Hyunjin chimes in. “He’s the only one I almost made out with, and our parents were in the audience, mind you.”
Before you catch on goddamn fire, you have to force quit the fangirling and put your rational thinking into overdrive QUICK! What are they even after, having a weird ship conversation about themselves out of nowhere? It’s almost like they are trying to convince you it’s real, but even if they do, what’s going to possibly come out o—
Oh.
Oh, okay.
Okay, so it’s just a random jackpot thing. They saw your stuff, picked you as a target, and this is how they’re “getting even” by humiliating you to your face. Ha ha, very funny…
“Alright, message received,” you sigh in defeat, your mood suddenly bitter. “Do you want me to apologize in writing, or—?”
“What are you talking about? I’m not mad about that at all,” Hyunjin quickly interjects. “I canceled a porn subscription because of you. I goon to your stuff a lot.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP NO YOU FUCKING DO NOT!!!”
You scream at his face out of pure reflex, but everyone in the vicinity is so faded that no one even hears it. Well, except for Chris who folds in half howling with laughter.
“Ask him,” Hyunjin points at the yang to his yin extremely seriously. “What was I doing just last night?”
“I’m gonna be a gentleman and say he was reading the latest drop, but he changed his sheets at 2 a.m. Do the math,” Chris corroborates while wiping the tears from his eyes. “So yeah, can confirm he’s not mad. Mad horny, maybe”
“But…” Hyunjin snuggles up to you, speaking directly into your ear. “I am mad about something else.”
“W–What did I do?” you turn your head to face him, almost brushing against his lips.
“What is it about me that you don’t like anymore?” he asks with narrowed eyes.
“WHAT?!”
“It’s the haircut, isn’t it?” he tsks in disappointment. “You find it off-putting.”
“Absolutely not! Where did that even come from?!”
“Then how fucking come you’re wrecked so easily after all these years? I thought we had something.”
The course of the night is quite disorienting as it is. Then he goes ahead and says all that in a single breath, fire shooting out of his eyes as if you’ve cussed out the entire Hwang bloodline. He sounds more delulu than all fics in existence combined, yet he’s dead serious, legitimately demanding an answer from you.
You’re so dumbfounded, you can’t produce a single coherent thought!
“Fine,” Hyunjin pulls out his phone and shows you the screen. “Read it. Out loud.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake…
If you can get an ETA on when you can vanish, please, because the self-cringe of looking at your own blog is suf–fo–ca–ting! Nevertheless, it suddenly doesn’t seem entirely implausible to you that these two may indeed be dying laughing at the fanservice defenders. If you posted about this very moment right now, no one would ever believe you, either, would they?
Mad imagination, bro. 12/10 gooned. Have my reblog.
You sigh in exasperation, trying to dissociate from the fact that those are your own words on the screen, and start reading.
“Guys, I’m this cl—”
“No,” Hyunjin stops you with the tone of an insufferable director. “With feeling.”
Are you unknowingly auditioning for something, or…?
You try to remember what you were doing when you rabidly typed this nonsense and yeeted it into the void of the interwebs. Some teaser pictures had dropped, so it wasn’t even anything that deep. Just plain, good ol’ thirst for normal people, but treason-level betrayal by a certain kiwi’s insane biasing standards.
And nothing less than a recommittal blood oath will convince him of your loyalty, apparently.
“Guys, I’m this close to ulting the shit out of Chris. He’s…” you pause to chase some of the cringe with a sip of vodka. “He’s been wrecking me left and right this comeback.”
“I know, right?” Chris cheeses at you, then mimics Hyunjin’s earlier tone. “It’s the bench press thirst traps, isn’t it?”
“All of it,” Hyunjin demands. “Don’t stop at the best part now.”
Real talk? You’d rather endure the ship interrogation than this medieval-adjacent self-reflection moment. Maybe they used to make witches read their own fics aloud, too, who knows?
“Send help,” you punctuate your unhinged diary entry with an eye roll and hand him his phone back.
“Well then.”
He suddenly pulls you close from your waist, shifting you to straddle his lap. The sight must be a little too satisfying, the way his jaw drops watching you sit on your new throne, breathing heavily as he runs his hands up your waist.
“Help,” he brushes two fingers down your cleavage, “has arrived.”
It doesn’t feel real at all. You’re so close to him that if you move forward just an inch, you can kiss him. In your absence, Chris moves right next to Hyunjin and starts lazily stroking your legs, smiling to himself as he watches goosebumps spread on your skin in slow motion.
“Be honest with me,” Hyunjin puts a hand on your cheek, pointing at Chris with a nod. “Do you wish it was him touching you instead?”
“That’s not what I meant when I said—”
“Look, I get why you might have slipped for a moment,” he interrupts, holding Chris’s face between his thumb and index fingers. “Just look at him. He’s so hot, fucking pisses me off sometimes.”
“Pisses you off, my ass,” Chris scoffs with a snort. “Tell that to your dick standing at attention every time I get out of the shower.”
“Not the time to air our dirty laundry,” Hyunjin turns off the black box, then turns to you. “But if you’re really sorry for abandoning me—”
“I didn’t abandon you!” you protest.
“You did, and it broke my heart,” he instantly denies your appeal, his expression somehow crestfallen and quietly enraged at the same time. “Or are you not sorry at all?”
“I am sorry for upsetting you, but not for abandoning you,” you respond. “Because I didn’t.”
“But you are sorry.”
“I am.”
“Then,” he slowly drags a strap of your dress down your shoulder, “show me how much.”
“T–There are people here,” you quickly grab his hand.
“Of course there are,” he purses his lips. “Otherwise it wouldn’t be a ceremony.”
“Just what the hell is this ceremony for?” you crease your brows. “I haven’t seen one ribbon getting cut.”
“Just because they aren’t in your face doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” he responds with a grin. “You asked me to save you from your misery, remember?”
what if IM hyunjin and ur just giving me ideas lol
Your face changes when it finally starts to sink in.
You look around, and that’s when you see the room for the first time. There are clusters of people spread all over the place, each with a “focal point” amidst them. Depending on the kind of lens you have, you can claim they are being worshipped, pleasured, or entirely humiliated.
Only then does it dawn on you that the “opening ceremony”, at least the one held on this side of the room, is of you.
“Don’t avert your eyes,” Hyunjin holds your face with the kind of tenderness that does not belong to the salacious backdrop. “Look at me.”
And look, you do.
You see two men before you, their gaze somewhat soft but not because it bears any wholesome intent. It’s a tiger and a wolf sitting side by side, and the only reason they don’t snarl is not to spook the gazelle. Otherwise, you can see the drool pooling in their mouth. The intent doesn’t seem entirely nefarious, either, but you have lowered inhibitions and complete heart eyes for them, so… Not exactly the beacon of sound judgement.
When Hyunjin starts pulling you in, the remaining crumbs of sound judgement evacuate the building anyway.
“Kiss the lips you keep writing about,” he quietly demands.
Your life temporarily ends when he takes your lips within his. It’s not like your makeout scoreboard is completely blank, but you’ve never felt anything like this before. The man doesn’t kiss; he attempts to pour himself into your body, then permeate every single corner until he completely possesses you.
Divide and Hwangquer.
“Feeling a little neglected here,” Chris interrupts. “No kisses for me?”
That pout paired with the puppy eyes gives you a little cuteness aggression. You steal a glance from Hyunjin, trying to gauge how upset he’d be if you kissed Chris, but he beats you to it. He just knows you’ll prefer the “fanservice” over a stupid membership card anyway. Now he can thank you for all the sheets he ruined in a single installment.
He grabs Chris by the nape and fucking goes for it, showing you what you would have seen if he had finished that pepero to completion. It makes you wanna combust that their rhythm seems so memorized. It’s pure muscle memory. If these demons had a side hustle where they made out to entertain an audience, the entire community would find out the day they created an account. Not even the most devout “It’s fanservice!” supremacist can explain how two people can know each other’s hot spots this well if they haven’t found them firsthand.
FUCK, IT’S TRUE THEN?!
As Hyunjin languidly grinds against you, he unbuttons Chris’s pants and frees his cock, making him whimper when he wraps his long fingers around him. You can’t control the throb between your legs when you hear that sound, and of course Hyunjin notices, breaking into a diabolical smile.
He channels his attention to you again, this time meeting no resistance when he reaches for the strap of your dress. He takes the left side while Chris takes the right, both men savoring the fuck out of unwrapping the present they treated themselves to. The tiger and the wolf can no longer hide their intent, openly showing their teeth as they stare at your bare chest. As if they communicate with telepathy, each sucks on a nipple at the same time, the same way they make out with each other. Loud. Messy.
Wet.
When you run your fingers through his hair, Chris looks up and makes eye contact with you. He lets go of your nipple and reaches for your face, demanding his kiss. They both melt within your lips, but it’s like night and day. Hyunjin kisses like a Sunday morning—slow and lazy, deep sighs, soft touches because you have all the time in the world. Whereas Chris is like a quickie you know you shouldn’t have—fast and passionate, heavy breathing, firm gropes because you are strapped for time before you get busted.
But both set your body on fire just the same.
Hyunjin stops when he realizes there’s a makeout session going on over his head and starts kissing your neck, fondling everything he can reach. Shortly after, you feel a hand on your inner thighs caressing you. Then it moves up. More. A bit more. It makes you shudder when it reaches the dampened fabric gatekeeping your wetness.
“So, you’re saying,” Hyunjin unzips his pants and lets his cock hang, “if I dip my tongue in there, I’ll be the first ever to taste you?”
“Y–Yes,” you barely manage to answer, wits barely intact.
“You wouldn’t… lie to me, would you?” he squints with suspicion.
Then something you can’t quite explain happens.
Hyunjin looks the same, but his demeanor feels… sinister, almost. It’s like there is a very specific answer to his question, and if you can’t get it exactly right, there will be consequences. The problem is, you can’t tell if he’s roleplaying or if his personality is actually changing right before your eyes.
If the tiger snarls that loudly, obviously it will spook the gazelle.
“Of course not,” Chris intervenes with the wholesomest smile, his voice softer than cumulus clouds. “She would never do that to you.”
“She said she loved me, but it didn’t stop her from having eyes for you,” Hyunjin stares daggers at him. “How do I know she’s telling the truth this time?”
“Hyun, you’re scaring her.”
Hyunjin swiftly turns to you, and when you make eye contact, his rigid scowl suddenly disappears. He averts his eyes like he’s ashamed, but the pout doesn’t go anywhere.
It’s like you’re trying to communicate with a stubborn kid.
“If I hurt you so much,” you softly utter, tilting your head to look into his eyes, “would you like me to leave?”
He immediately grabs your hand like you’re going to vanish otherwise, his eyes widened like saucers. Chris giggles at his reaction and wraps his arms around Hyunjin’s waist behind him.
“You just loooove being a mega spoiled brat, don’t you?” he nibbles on Hyunjin’s earlobe, then flashes his mega reassuring dimples at you. “Asking for a kiss like a normal person is too pedestrian for our prince, so he has to make a scene.”
You thought he was fucking around when he said he was heartbroken earlier, but he looks it. You are so confused, and nothing makes sense to you, but a part of you feels weirdly privileged to witness whatever is going on.
“Come closer,” Chris invites you, placing open-mouth kisses on Hyunjin’s neck. “Let’s pacify him a bit.”
You hold Hyunjin’s hands and put them on your waist, then pull him into a kiss. As soon as your lips touch, he immediately starts melting, and you can feel his body go limp in your arms. He softly moans into you, one hand on your face, the other holding Chris’s hand behind him.
“Do you really love me?” he asks with a pout.
“I came here tonight because Mr. Hwang asked for me,” you affirm. “There was no mention of Chris.”
“Will you stop loving him then?”
“Will you?” you raise your brows, unwittingly laughing. “Don’t ask me for things you don’t have the balls to do.”
“Will you at least stop biasing him then?”
“What’s happening to you?” you smile through your creased brows, strangely endeared.
“Nothing, baby. It’s his dinner time, and he gets very groggy when he doesn’t eat,” Chris answers on his behalf, looking at you knowingly. “So you might wanna feed him now.”
Hyunjin doesn’t lose another second and gently pushes you to lie on your back, comfortably settling between your legs. He has zero patience left to take the teasing route, but still tries his best to hold it together and not rip your underwear off altogether.
“Oh, you so wanna shove it in there already, don’t you?” Chris chuckles, seeing Hyunjin practically drool at the amount of slick.
“Fucking look at this, my god,” Hyunjin bites his lips hard.
“Rock paper scissors?” Chris extends his hand.
“Oh, fuck you, I have bias privileges,” Hyunjin slaps it away. “Dibs on everything.”
“Yes, you do, but you will do my requests, right?
You kinda wanna slap Chris when Hyunjin stops two millimeters away from your pussy and looks up at him. It’s so strange that he seems to only listen to Chris and do everything he says with blind obedience, as if he doesn’t have a mind of his own.
Huh…
“What do you want?”
“How about you get her suuuper wet first,” Chris speaks, dragging Hyunjin’s lip down with his thumb, “then double cream her?”
They smirk at each other, and you almost die because WHAT EVEN IS THIS INSANE DYNAMIC?! They’ve done this before for sure; the correct question is JUST HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES?
“I’m just gonna borrow her a bit so I can cum faster, okay?” Chris gives a quick peck on Hyunjin’s lips. “She still only loves you.”
“I know,” Hyunjin tries to play it cool, but massively fails when he can’t help his smile.
“And I only love you, too.”
FUCK—THIS!!!
You suddenly forget where you are and what you’re about to do, barely stopping yourself from shedding happy tears, because what other proof do you need here, really?
fAnSeRvIcE, my ass!
“I guess it’s only fair that I warn you about this,” Hyunjin licks his lips with sheer hunger, spreading your legs wide.
“A–About what?”
“That no one’s gonna compare to me after tonight. You’ll live the rest of your life looking for me in everyone you fuck,” he smirks big. “So maybe don’t even bother fucking them in the first place.”
You inadvertently arch into him with a gasp when he finally graces you with that first lick, grabbing onto Chris lying by your side. It’s such an unfamiliar, brand-new feeling, and it spreads all over your body faster than a pandemic. So wet. So warm. Dangerously addictive. Unfathomable that someone could have this kind of appetite for you one day, but there you have it in technicolor. And out of all people it could possibly be, it’s Hwang Hyunjin.
The only man ever.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” you let slip unbeknownst to yourself.
“Mpf…”
You sink your fingers deeper into Chris when Hyunjin moans into your pussy. The vibrations feel so nice. It’s like an ‘achievement unlocked’ moment—when you talk to him, he reacts.
And he reacts good.
“Feels good, yeah? Now we’re gonna do the same with you,” Chris gets on his knees and presses his cock on your lips. “Open your mouth for me.”
You don’t exactly understand why, but you’re starting to relate to Hyunjin. For whatever reason, when Chris says something, you just do, no questions asked.
You take him into your mouth, but he doesn’t move for a while, just enjoying the sensation as he watches Hyunjin work wonders on your pussy. The man is gone, eating like he’s been starved to death, and when he realizes Chris is watching, he stops sucking, spreads your lips, and makes a complete show of flicking his tongue on your clit as fast as he can.
You’ve heard of chain reaction crashes before, but only now do you understand how they work. Hyunjin licks your soul out of you, you moan louder, and it somehow manifests itself within Chris’s body even though he’s fucking your face. It’s as if you’re just a vessel connecting the two lovers, and Hyunjin pleasures Chris through you.
If you can choose your own death, this is your preferred way to go.
“Oh, FUCK, sorry baby, borrowing your man for a bit,” Chris hurriedly pulls out and rushes to Hyunjin. “I’m about to explode. Fucking finish me!”
Hyunjin gets on his knees, fervently stroking Chris until he unloads a hefty load all over his cock. It’s unclear whether it’s Chris or you who’s about to pass out when he cums because you’ve never seen something this hot in your entire life.
“Do it now,” Chris flashes a fucked out smile. “Before it dries.”
Hyunjin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and aligns himself with your entrance. As his precum mingles with Chris’s drops at the tip, you see the tiger has fully murderous intent now, groaning loudly even though he very very shallowly thrusts into you, only a knuckle deep. Literally just the tip, barely holding himself back from ramming himself into you with how deliciously slippery you are.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he soothes you when you flinch a bit. “I’ll be very gentle.”
“Why? I didn’t ask you to.”
The two men look at each other and flash the most evil smiles you’ve seen anyone flash.
“Jackpot,” Chris sinks his teeth into his lips.
“Lick her clit so she gets tighter around me,” Hyunjin demands, then looks deep into your eyes. “We’ll see how you like me now.”
“Ah, FUCK!”
You said it yourself. You said so many things yourself. How you were this obsessed with him. How you wanted him to break you in. How you wanted just one chance in exchange for an NDA. And now not to be gentle with you. You’re right, why should he? It’s not like you’re made of glass. You’re a big girl, you can take it.
He’s just complying with your wishes here.
“Your eyes are rolling back,” Hyunjin clenches his teeth, maniacally laughing. “Go ahead. Go ahead and fall back in love with me.”
All you can make is incoherent noises while he sinks into your deepest spots, Chris’s tongue gliding all over your clit. This is it. This is how you go certifiably insane, if not die altogether. Not even the worst fantasies your mind has ever conjured can compare to this, and in your heart of hearts, you know Hyunjin is right. No one’s gonna compare to him, to them, after this, and you have no idea how you’re supposed to go on with your life.
If only there was a way that… If only…
“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop, I’m about t— HYUNJIN!!!”
As you let out a sound you didn’t even know you were capable of making, both men pin you in your place, forcing you to just let the pleasure in. In all your years of self-pleasuring, you have never reached a high this surreal, tearing your soul from your body, and you just know that after tonight, you never will. Squeezing him to death within your walls, you shove Hyunjin into his atom-rearranging orgasm, and his load is so heavy that you can feel every single drop he shoots inside you.
Meanwhile, Hyunjin is so happy he got to be your first that he could die.
“Are you in love with me again?” he nuzzles against your neck once he comes back enough to be able to speak words.
“If I say yes, will you stop obsessing over this?”
“I’m not promising anything.”
You flash him the most fucked out smile. He smiles back. Your heart swells in your chest to the point of combustion when you see his dimples.
“Then no, I’m not,” you stroke his kiwi hair. “Try again.”
He’s not in the least bit offended. If anything, this is the closest he’s been to fansign Hyunjin the entire night, his chuckle making your heart go into overdrive.
“Now that the official ceremony is over,” Chris gets up and starts putting his clothes on, “let’s bounce.”
“Are you really gonna make us move right now?” Hyunjin whines.
“Of fucking course, I am!” Chris scowls, incredulous that Hyunjin would even dare say something like this. “I still need to fuck her, and all our toys are back home.”
❥ Reblog & drop your feedback to make Hyunchan bias you.
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being a travel blogger has its perks; you get to travel the world, eat delicious food, and…dance with a mysterious, handsome stranger on a cruise?
pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader
genre: fluff, smut
content: oral sex (f + m receiving), fingering, coming untouched, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, a mirror is involved
word count: 5.2k
a/n: i'm so sorry for being late! thank you for your patience with me pls enjoy this reader simping for hyunjin and him being the beautiful man that he is ♡
♡ m.list
a wet hot skz summer event masterlist ☼ schedule
The words you choose to live by are as follows: do something worth writing, then write something worth reading. And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the past four years. You have, arguably, one of the best jobs in the entire world. As a travel blogger for a major publication, your sole purpose in life is to see the world and write about it, and hopefully inspire others to see it too.
The breeze on the top deck feels warm as it hits your face, and the smell of the fresh salty air makes you feel hopeful for the rest of your trip. You’ve scored a trip on the Starlost for this assignment, the cruise line’s latest and most luxurious ship. Your company has given you a full suite with an ocean view, and they prefer that the readers have the inside scoop on the ultimate experience.
You pull out your phone and take a few shots of the view. The ship is huge—you’re honestly not sure if you’ll have enough time to explore everything in the next five days, but you’re determined to try.
After spending some time wandering the ship and mentally cataloguing all of the places you’d like to visit, you decide to check out one of the ship’s main attractions. It’s the perfect time, right as the sun is going down, and all of the families with young children head to bed.
Club Miroh is the hot spot of the cruise line for young adults, according to the information pamphlet you read when you got your assignment. The lights are dim and brightly colored, and the bass booms through the speakers.
You sit at the bar, scanning the young crowd. You take a couple of photos of the atmosphere, hoping to convey the youthful and fun vibe to your audience. Maybe in the beginning you’d dance with a few strangers or chat it up with the bartender, but people watching was a hobby you slowly picked up and enjoyed far more.
A couple makes their way to the dance floor, and you imagine what their life must be like. Maybe they left the kids at home, determined to spend quality time together and go on adventures while they’re still young. Or maybe they just met tonight, two singles just looking for a night of fun.
“A tequila sunrise for the lady?” The bartender’s voice cuts through the music as he sets down the orange and yellow drink in front of you.
“Oh, I didn’t order that…,” your voice trails off as you shake your head.
“Ah, the gentleman over there sent it over.” He gestures to the other side of the bar to a man seated alone. You look over at the man and see him hunched over the bar, drinking a dark liquor out of his glass. Eyes trained directly at you.
He’s very handsome. No, scratch that, he’s gorgeous. His long black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a dark button-up and jeans that are probably worth your entire paycheck.
You tip your glass to him before taking a sip as a thank you. He lifts his own glass in return, a sly smirk appearing on his face. Before you know it, he’s sliding into the stool next to you.
“Hyunjin,” he says as he introduces himself, his voice low and sultry. It’s not often that a stranger leaves you speechless by looks alone, but he definitely does.
Other than your obvious nervousness, the conversation flows quite well. He’s an artist from Korea, and also flying solo on this cruise. You don’t ask why, whether he had someone he was supposed to come with, or if this was his plan all along.
It’s a quarter to midnight when he leans in close, the spice of his cologne filling your nostrils, and whispers in your ear, “Come dance with me.”
The floors vibrate as you step onto the dance floor, guided by Hyunjin. The flashing lights reflect on every nearby surface and illuminate the crowd. You sidestep a couple of drunken passengers, leaning into Hyunjin for support. He smiles at you as he lets you hold onto him.
He takes your hand and starts to move to the beat. You’re not the greatest dancer, but you try your best to loosen up. You accidentally step on his foot, and you look up at his face in horror as you profusely apologize. But he just laughs it off. His laughter is contagious, and for the first time this trip, nothing exists beyond this moment.
He leans in close and says the words you’ve been waiting to hear all night.
“You wanna get out of here?”
You’re no stranger to a hookup in international waters. It’s not exactly a common occurrence, but it does happen. You just skip over that part of the night when you go back to write about it the next day, your boss never the wiser.
Your back hits the door as it locks, Hyunjin’s lips attacking yours once you’re both alone. His hands held your hips firmly as he rolled his into yours. You can feel his cock straining through his pants, eager to be free.
He peels you off the door and guides you to the bed. Your knees hit the edge, and the two of you topple over onto it.
His hands move from your waist to your thighs, hiking your dress up. He moves his mouth to your neck, kissing and nipping up the side. Your hands are busy tugging at his clothes and his belt all at the same time.
He steps back to unbutton and snatch his shirt off, then undoes his belt and jeans with one hand while leaning over you. He is so fucking sexy, you almost wish you had gotten to know him a bit better before doing this.
You pull him closer with your legs, craving his touch. He hikes your dress even higher, and dips his head even lower, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your belly just above your waistline.
“Fuck, Hyunjin—please,” you plead, raking your hands through his gelled-up hair.
He doesn’t reply, he just kneels on the floor in front of the bed. He slides your lacy black panties down before spreading your thighs wide. His fingers part your folds, giving him a perfect view of your cunt. And then, he lets a string of spit fall directly on your clit.
He’s playing with his food. That’s how you feel anyway, not that you’re complaining. You let out a whine, partially from impatience but mostly because you can’t believe he’s so hot and a little freaky. Then, finally, you let out a noise that sounds like somewhat of a cross between a sigh and a moan once his tongue finally touches you.
The man eats like he’s in a desert, and your juices are the only thing that can quench his thirst. His tongue is long, reaching in spots you didn’t even know existed. He leaves long licks from your entrance to your clit, savoring every drop you give him.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” he hums, sucking your juices up.
He uses his thumb to trace your folds, taking note of what makes you squirm so that he can do it again. It’s not long before he’s pressing two fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way to make you see stars.
“Fuck—keep going, I’m gonna come,” you cry.
“That’s the goal, sweetheart.” He’s smug, which makes him hotter. You want to roll your eyes from annoyance, but they end up rolling for entirely different reasons.
He picks up his pace, fucking you with his fingers while his tongue circles your clit. Your cunt is making the juiciest sounds, and he’s eating all of it up. He’s rutting against the side of the bed, chasing friction for himself, making the bed squeak under the two of you.
He’s intense, but not in an overstimulating way. Everything he does is just perfect. You thank the stars in your head because not once have you had to give him instructions, a rarity these days. You’re straining to keep your orgasm back, wanting to feel this for as long as possible.
“Come on, give it to me,” he says, and you can’t hold it back any longer.
Your orgasm crashes over you, hard, and you cry out in pleasure. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, and your thighs latch on the sides of his head as he coaxes you through it, slowing his movements down gradually. Your legs are still shaking by the time he leans down to plant a kiss over your clit.
“Holy shit,” you say, because they’re the only words you can think of after having the most mind-blowing orgasm of your life.
He stands up to lean over you, wiping your juices on the back of his hand before leaning down for a kiss. You reach for his waist and start to pull his boxers down when he stops you, grabbing your wrist.
You look at his eyes, waiting for an explanation.
“You don’t need to—,”
“I want to.” God, what you wouldn’t give to have this man’s dick inside of you.
“No, it’s not that. It’s—I, um…I already came.”
You blink at him. He stands up straighter to show you, and sure enough, you look down and see a wide wet patch on the front of his boxers. Your brain doesn’t compute because it’s the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen.
“I, uh, tend to get off on other people’s pleasure more…” His voice trails off as he explains himself.
You think about getting down on one knee, right then and there.
“I hear there’s a chapel on the ship,” you joke.
He laughs, trying to hide the blush that’s forming on his face. “You trying to make an honest man out of me already?”
“After that—absolutely,” you chuckle, still coming down from your high. “But I’ll buy you dinner first.”
“How about a shower first?”
The water runs off your back as you watch him lather himself up. You were expecting this to be more awkward, or maybe he’d want to bolt right after. But his lingering presence felt more comforting than you’d expected.
You almost invite him to spend the night, before stopping yourself. He’s a stranger that you just met, maybe he has other plans, other people he wants to see. You don’t insist when he goes to leave.
“I’ll see you around, I hope,” he says as he’s getting dressed. And you really, really hope you do, too.
He excuses himself from your room, and the silence fills the cabin with the click of the lock. You feel a smile creep across your face before you can stop it. This trip is going to be one for the books, you can already tell.
The pool deck is crowded when you arrive shortly after lunch. The sun is especially hot today, given the lack of trees and buildings to provide shade while at sea. Still, you strap your bikini on and find a quieter corner to sunbathe in while dipping your toes in the pool. You throw your head back, soaking up the sunlight, and relax.
“Is this seat taken?” A voice breaks through your thoughts and startles you.
You open your eyes to a man you don’t recognize. He’s on the shorter side, and he could definitely use some sunscreen, judging by the bright red that coats his skin. He’s really, really not your type.
He sits down next to you before you have the chance to protest. At first, he sits way too close, so you scoot out of his way, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. You’re polite, nodding your head to whatever he’s saying, which is a long-winded speech about how fascinating cruise ships are.
It’s boring. Mind-numbingly boring, and this man is not attractive enough for you to pretend to be interested. You should really leave. You’re not interested, and you don’t want to waste the man’s time, or yours, any longer than necessary.
“I should go—,”
“Wait wait, one more thing—,”
“Darling?” you hear as a familiar figure approaches from your peripheral vision.
Hyunjin. He looks down at the two of you, loose tank top, dark swim trunks, and sunglasses perched on the tip of his nose. You can’t help but beam as he sits down.
“Hi, honey,” you say sweetly, leaning into his shoulder. “This gentleman was just telling me about…sorry, what was it about boats?”
“It was cruise ships, and never mind, you’re clearly not interested.”
He gets up before you can give him a polite goodbye, which is probably for the best. Maybe you should have said something sooner, but the look on that man’s face when Hyunjin sat down was priceless.
What are you even thinking? He probably just saw you from across the way, noticed the uninterested look on your face, and decided to step in to save you from embarrassment. He’s not yours, he’s just a nice guy.
“Thank you,” you stifle a laugh as the man walks out of view. “I had no idea what he was talking about.”
“You looked like you were in trouble,” he says with a smile. “And like you needed a refill.”
He places a cold glass into your hand, the same pinkish orange drink you’d sipped on the previous night.
“Another one?” you ask, playfully. “Careful, or I might start thinking you like me.”
“I do,” he says plainly. “You like me, too.” He laughs as he finishes his drink. You feel a flutter in your stomach, like he knows exactly what you want to hear.
“Says who?” you ask, eyebrow raised. You definitely like him, but you’re not about to give him the satisfaction just yet.
“Says God. I went to the chapel and asked him myself.”
“There is not a chapel on board,” you laugh, snorting a bit. “I made that up.”
“There is. I just went.” His straight, convincing face makes you laugh harder.
“You’re very humble, you know that?” you tease, pushing his shoulder a bit.
“You love it,” he winks, and your heart does a stupid little flip. To your surprise, he excuses himself, stands up, and leaves you to finish your drink and sunbathe alone. He disappears into the crowd of people, and you’re still smiling to yourself.
You want to ask him out, maybe to dinner at your next port, but you decide against it. You like him a bit too much, you think, and it’s easier not to let yourself have something if it’s just going to be ripped away from you in the end. Korea’s far, after all.
You go to bed that night wondering what it might feel like to fall asleep next to him.
Who are you to deny yourself the finer things in life? That’s the question you ask yourself as you’re pacing back and forth in your suite, getting ready for the evening.
Maybe Korea is too far. Maybe it’s too far for anything serious, but this is a vacation. It’s five days of living your life to the fullest so you can go back and tell everyone how cool the world is. And living your life to the fullest means asking out the man who made you see stars and not caring where it ends up.
You check yourself in the mirror. It’s a beach port, and you’re hoping to spend most of the day relaxing in the sand and swimming in the ocean. Your swimsuit shows off your body, and your coverup leaves little to the imagination—exactly how you want it.
Making stops in different countries is one of your favorite parts of a cruise. It’s fun to see the beaches, the different towns, and maybe do a fun activity or two while you’re there. The locals are always helpful, pointing out the best restaurants and the places you must see.
But today you have a different mission.
You spot him hunched over the beach bar, laughing with the bartender. He notices you almost immediately, his smile wide as he waves you over. His hair is wavier today, curling at the ends. It’s fluffy, and you have to resist the urge to find out if it’s as soft as it looks.
He orders you the same drink he’s ordered for you the past few days, before leaning in close. “I want to show you something.”
You follow him down the beach, drink in one hand and your sandals in the other, before you reach an area where the beach curves inland. It’s more secluded, away from the big crowds, and the water looks calmer.
“I swear it looks bluer from this side,” he says, sitting down in the sand. You’re close enough to the water to see the bubbles from the waves, but far enough so you won’t get wet. The sight is beautiful, with the sun starting to go down, and the colors in the sky complement the ocean well.
“Why tequila sunrises?” you ask him as you look down at your drink, taking a sip.
He glances at the glass, then shrugs his shoulders. “You didn’t complain the first time.”
You huff out a laugh. “So you’ve just decided that’s my drink forever?”
“Until proven otherwise.”
“What if I wanted something else?”
His lips curve into a smile. “You’d tell me.”
It’s not a romantic answer, but something about the simplicity of it makes your heart warm. The suggestion that if you wanted something different, all you had to do was ask and he would oblige has the butterflies in your stomach going wild.
The conversation begins to dwindle as the sun sets. You look beside you, and Hyunjin isn’t looking at the sunset anymore. He has a book in his lap and is delicately flipping through the pages.
“What’s that?” you ask, gesturing to the pad of paper in his lap.
“A sketchbook.”
“Oh yeah, you’re an artist. What do you draw?”
He flips through the notebook and shows you tons of tiny sketches of different figures. A man holding a child’s hand on the beach. A couple leaned against the railing, staring fondly at each other. A woman quietly reading a book in a corner.
They’re all people. Different kinds of people, from all over the world.
“They’re my muses.”
It’s beautiful. Not just the drawings, but the craft itself. The skill it takes to see something and then draw it out on paper, the patience it takes to make sure the lines are all right, the passion and the will to want it to get it right—it’s all so inspiring.
He has such a beautiful view of life. And not only life, but the people who make up the world you live in.
“Can I do one?” you ask. You may not be an artist or really the best at drawing in general, but you recognize the art and the beauty behind it and want to give it a go.
He flips the book to a fresh page and hands it to you along with a pen. You look around the beach at all the people, and decide there is only one person worthy of drawing.
You turn your body to face him confidently, staring at the features on his face. He gets the hint and poses with a hand on his chin and a big smile on his face. His cheeks are all bunched up, and his eyes are squeezed shut. The sight of him makes you laugh. He looks a bit ridiculous, but it fills you with a warmth you find hard to describe.
“Sit still,” you say after a couple of minutes of silence. Your lines are jagged because you can’t stop laughing, and the light is getting lower as the sun goes down. You hope that he doesn’t judge your awful drawing, but there’s nothing you’d change about this moment.
“You look cute when you’re concentrated.”
“Shhhh! I’m working.” He barks out a laugh.
It’s hard to concentrate when every time you look up, he’s staring at you. There’s a certain glint in his eyes that makes your heart skip.
“Done,” you finally announce.
He scoots back towards you to get a closer look. You hand him the sketchbook to show him, and he bursts out into laughter.
“It’s not that bad!” you argue, crossing your arms in defense.
“No, no, no. It’s beautiful.”
It’s objectively terrible. His eyes are uneven as hell, his nose is crooked, and his hair….you’re not even sure you gave him enough hair. And you forgot about his ears.
“It doesn’t even look like you,” you say, pouting a bit. You did try really hard, but it’s just not your thing.
“Well, I love it anyway.”
He’s so much softer than you first thought. You admire so much about him, from the way he carries himself to his outlook on life and how he views the people around him, even strangers.
You don’t even realize that your eyes are locked on his until he starts to lean in closer. Your lips meet, much softer than the first. He brings a hand to your cheek, caressing you gently. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, and he follows. You swear the only thing missing is fireworks behind your head.
“We have to get back on the ship,” he pulls back to whisper. “Come to my suite.”
You nod, and he helps you to your feet, brushing sand off both of you before walking back onto the dock.
His suite is massive—on the top level of this side of the ship, with a beautiful ocean view. The king-size bed sits perfectly in the middle of the space, and there’s even a fireplace. Your company would have never put you up in a place like this.
“Wow,” you say, gaping at the room. “How successful of an artist are you?”
Maybe the question is in poor taste, but when he said artist, you assumed it was a “starving artist” kind of vibe. Not this.
But he laughs it off. “A couple of my paintings sold at a charity auction not long ago.”
Successful enough to have paintings sell at an auction, apparently. Wealth isn’t something you’d normally care about, but being successful at doing something you love is so hot.
There’s no point in dancing around it anymore. You want him badly. A grin spreads across your face as you pull him towards the bed. The nerves flutter in your stomach as you lie down, guiding him on top of you.
He kisses you with a burning passion, like you might never see each other again after tonight. He moves down from your mouth, kissing along your jawline. You thread your fingers through his hair and let out a small gasp when you look up.
There’s a mirror on the ceiling. A gigantic mirror, right above the bed. You can tell whoever designed the space tried to be fancy, adding some kind of etching details on it. Quite a choice for a cruise line, but maybe a bit exciting nonetheless.
He looks up at you when he hears you, and follows where you’re looking before bursting out in laughter.
“I’ll be honest, I had no idea that would be there when I booked this.”
“It’s kind of hot though,” you reply. He looks at you with wide eyes for a moment before going back to kissing you.
You’re barely wearing anything for him to take off, but something about him carefully untying your bikini strings sends your head spinning.
He works his way down from your neck to your chest, before kneading at your breasts and taking one in his mouth. He moves his tongue around your nipple before sucking gently, and you let out a moan when he lets go with a pop.
“I love it when you make that sound,” he sighs, taking your other breast into his mouth.
You tug on his tank top, signaling him to take it off. He peels it off his back and tosses it on the floor somewhere. He reaches down between the two of you and tugs your bottoms lower, sliding them off to join the growing pile of clothes on the floor.
Your legs part for him instantly, and you can already tell you’re soaked. He sucks at your neck at the same time he dips his hand between your legs, and collects some of your juices before bringing it up to his lips for a taste.
“You taste so good,” he whispers in your ear.
“Let me taste you, too,” you say softly. You reach down to palm him through his shorts, and he lets out a moan into your ear.
You push him back gently, feeling up his toned torso and pressing your lips to his neck. He still smells good after a day at the beach. You suck at the spot just above his collarbone before you work your way down to his chest, leaving a trail of kisses as you go.
“Leave as many marks as you want,” he says gently, combing his fingers through your hair. Something possessive inside you triggers, and you leave several bruises down his torso.
You reach his sharp V line and pause for a moment, untying the strings on his swim trunks and sliding them down slowly, licking your lips. His hardened dick hits his torso with a heavy thump. He’s gifted in more ways than one, to say the least.
You start by licking a slow stripe up his shaft before you chicken out, earning you a moan from him.
“Don’t get shy on me now,” he says, voice low as he slides his hand through your hair to pull it out of the way. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”
His words embolden you as you drag your tongue up his length again, slower, before swirling it around the head of his cock. The taste of his precum hits your mouth, making you hum around it.
“Fuck, just like that,” he says, grip tightening in your hair. He tries to keep from bucking into your mouth too soon, letting you set the pace.
You take him in slowly, relaxing your throat and letting him sink all the way in. Your head bobs up and down, your hand stroking at the base of what you can’t fit.
“Shit, your mouth feels incredible,” he groans. “Look at me, I want to see those pretty eyes.”
You glance up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks as you take him deeper. His moans are getting louder, and he can’t stop his hips from bucking up into you.
“Fuck, come here,” he says, guiding you off of him slowly. “I’ll come right now if you keep looking at me like that.”
You crawl your way back up his body, licking the salty taste of his precum from your lips. He pulls you in for a kiss, and you grind down against him, the skin-on-skin contact driving you wild.
“I need you inside me,” you gasp between kisses. “Please.”
He flips the two of you around, and you giggle as your back hits the mattress. You pull him in for another kiss before inhaling sharply as he dips his hand between your legs.
“Tasting me really got you goin’, huh?” he teases, slowly running his fingers through your folds.
“Fuck—Hyunjin, please, I need you.” You’re not ashamed to beg for him, hoping your desperation turns him on.
“I got you, baby, just wanna make sure you can take all of me.”
The stretch burns as he nudges the head of his cock inside. Your legs wrap around his legs instinctively, pulling him closer. The two of you let out a chorus of moans as he sinks in deeper, much too slow for your liking.
“Holy—fuck, you’re so tight,” he hisses in your ear, hand gripping your hip hard.
He slams in the rest of the way until he’s buried to the hilt. The fullness is overwhelming in the best way. You look up at the ceiling, the visual of him fucking you makes your head spin.
“You gonna watch while I ruin you?” he grunts in your ear as he starts to move.
You can’t even bring yourself to respond, the feeling of him sliding against your walls makes your brain fuzzy.
“Harder,” you manage to get out.
“Yeah? You want it rough?” He brings a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides gently. The circulation being cut off sends your eyes rolling into the back of your skull.
He sets a punishing pace as you watch the reflection of him fucking you. The sounds of skin on skin clapping together fill the room, mixed with his grunts and your moans.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, slowing to kiss your temple. “Fucking made for me.”
Your cunt clenches around him at his words. “I’m yours,” you mutter out as he picks up his pace again.
“Come for me, baby. I’ve got you.” He moves his hand from your hip and slides it between you, rubbing quick circles on your clit. At the same time, he gives your throat a light squeeze. His thrusts get sloppier as he gets closer to his own release.
The combination sends you over the edge. You see stars, and you cry out his name as your orgasm hits you hard. Hyunjin follows right after you with a deep moan, burying himself deep as his cock pulses inside you.
He stays inside for a long moment, letting you both catch your breath. He leans down to wipe loose strands of hair from your face and press a soft kiss to your lips.
Your mind starts to race when he pulls out to get a clean towel for the two of you. You really, really like him, and the idea of flying home and never seeing him again feels like a punch to the gut.
Hyunjin opens the balcony door to let fresh air in before lying down next to you. Neither of you speaks for a long while, just cuddled up in each other’s arms, tracing lazy patterns over each other’s skin.
“Korea’s too far,” you mumble, the sadness evident in your voice.
His hand stills for a moment before he lets out a long sigh. “Yeah, it is.” He smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
It’s too good to be true, too perfect to keep. You want to bottle up these small moments you’ve had together and hold them close forever.
“I have an idea,” he says. “What if we book this same cruise next year? Same dates, same place, same ship. I’ll even book the same room so we can have the mirror again.”
You laugh, giving him a playful slap on the arm. But you look up at him and nod your head. “I think I like that.”
“We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. But maybe we can have this again. Maybe a little more next time.”
You bring his jaw closer to yours, kissing him slowly.
“Deal.”
a/n: ahhh thank you for your patience my life has been crazy! sorry if this one feels rushed! please let me know if you liked i've been going back and forth about it all week ahaha ♡
best friend! Kim 𝓢eungmin x f!reader x campus crush! Bang 𝓒han 9,193 words
in 𝓦hich: you can do nothing but complain to your best friend seungmin about the thin walls of your apartment and your roommate’s relentless sex life driving you insane. you don’t have to guts to admit to him that sometimes you actually listened in, hoping that her hot boyfriend, chris, was pounding into you instead. but seungmin isn't stupid, and he helps you give chris a taste of his own medicine.
content warnings & tags: this honestly became way smuttier than I had expected tbh, so proceed with caution. voyeurism !! 65% of this is dom! seung and the rest needy! chan. eventual threesome, degradation, use of toy, orgasm denial(?), lots and lots of name-calling, masturbation (f), oral (f & m recieving), unprotected sex, lots of things tbh, so lmk if i missed anything! sexual content ahead, viewer discretion is advised.
conversations with seungmin were like slipping into your favourite worn-out hoodie; something that you don't even remember when it had become a constant in your life.
somewhere between late-night study sessions and shared meals at the campus café, he had quietly become your best friend; the one person who had seen you cry over grades, over family calls that ended too abruptly, over dreams that felt too big for dorm-room ceilings. with him, nothing felt too heavy to say out loud.
you were on the phone now, sprawled across your bed, your laptop abandoned somewhere near your feet, whining about the latest group assignment while he laughed—loud, unfiltered, the kind that made your stomach flip even when you pretended it didn’t.
“—and then this idiot submits the wrong file, so now we’re all scrambling like headless chickens,” you groaned, flopping dramatically onto your pillow.
seungmin snorted. “sounds like karma for calling my coding project ‘a glorified calculator app’ last week.”
you laughed despite yourself. “prof seemed to agree with me if i remember correctly.”
he scoffed, already launching into a dramatic defense of his work, when suddenly you heard it. the soft click of the door. followed by hushed giggles. footsteps. your stomach dropped.
“oh no,” you muttered.
“what happened?” seungmin asked, confused at the sudden change in your voice.
before you could answer, the muffled sound of voices drifted through the thin walls. your roommate. and her boyfriend.
“ugh,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “it’s happening. again.”
seungmin laughed. because of course he did, with your misery being his main source of entertainment. “what is?”
“it’s sooha and her boyfriend. chris? i’d told you about them, remember?” you replied, lowering your voice instinctively. “they can not keep it in their pants, man, i swear. she’s been dating this guy for, like, two weeks now, and almost every day they decide our dorm is their personal love hotel. it’s so fucking annoying.”
“sucks to be you,” seungmin said, completely unhelpful and way too used to your roommate’s antics.
you huffed, half annoyed, half exhausted, and he moved on, ranting about something else entirely. some professor. some deadline. his voice droned comfortably in your ear, familiar and grounding, and yet your attention betrayed you.
because the noises didn’t stop, they never did.
they only continued till you felt like you were losing your mind.
to be honest, it wasn’t truly even that bad. your rooms were on the opposite ends of the cozy living room, and the walls were thick enough that you could continue with your work without needing to blast music at full volume if you were focused enough.
but it was never about the sounds, no matter how much you told yourself, but it was always about his presence.
the noises started almost immediately— soft at first, the creak of the mattress in the next room, her breathy laugh turning into something softer, needier. then his low murmur, the kind that carried just enough bass to vibrate through the wall. you could picture it too clearly: his hands on her waist, her head tipping back, the way the bedframe would tap rhythmically against the wall soon enough.
you swallowed hard.
“hey? you there?” seungmin’s voice sharpened, his concern cutting through the haze.
you blinked, grounding yourself. “what?”
“you went quiet,” he said. “you okay, angel?”
of course he noticed. he always did. he knew your pauses, your tells, the way your breathing changed when something was wrong. and now this, apparently.
“yeah. yeah, of course,” you said quickly, laughing a little at your awkwardness. “sorry. i’m just… yeah. it’s nothing. continue.”
but it wasn’t nothing.
you’d complained to him countless times about your roommate. about the noise, the lack of boundaries, the frustration of trying to study or sleep through it all.
what you didn’t tell him was the part that made your stomach twist with guilt. the part you buried so deep you barely admitted it to yourself.
that sometimes, in the quiet moments when you were alone with your thoughts, your imagination betrayed you. that sometimes you pictured her boyfriend in places he had no right to be.
the idea unsettled you as much as it lingered, and the shame of it burned hotter than the thought itself.
“i need to go now,” the muffled sound of seungmin getting up and moving around brought you back. “you sure you’re okay? you can come by if you feel too uncomfortable or something? i’ll just tell the guys to reschedule—”
“no, no, minnie, that won’t be necessary, i’m fine. thank you for offering though,” you say. “sorry for making you worry, i was just… thinking about what we’re gonna do with the project.”
“okay then,” he didn’t sound convinced, but didn’t press further. “all the best, angel.” he ended the call, and silence settled in, making it harder for you to ignore the couple next door.
it had been weeks since your last call with seungmin. assignments, group meetings, finals prep; the usual excuses had kept you both busy and orbiting around each other at a safe distance.
quick waves across the lecture hall, a shared eye-roll during a particularly brutal presentation, but no real time. no late-night rants, no movie marathons, no accidental silences that meant too much.
now that your exams were finally over, it felt as if a weight had been lifted, and you had called seungmin over to make up for lost time.
you hummed to yourself as you fired off yet another text, wearing your most comfortable tank top and shorts; double, triple checking if he had picked up all the snacks you had asked him for;
seung
seungmiinnnnnnn
u got the spicy ramen right?
AND the chips i told u about??
DON’T YOU DARE FORGET THE SOJU
minnniee my loveeeee
pls come quick baby i’m starving
his reply was instant, predictably teasing;
crazy how you only care about me when i bring snacks
yes mom i have everything
stop spamming or i’ll eat them all in the hallway
you practically skipped out of your room when the doorbell rang, bare feet padding across the cool floor, already rehearsing the dramatic “finally!” you were going to greet him with.
but then you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him.
chris was sitting on the couch, legs spread comfortably, elbows on his knees, thumbs flying across his phone screen with that same focused frown you’d seen a hundred times from across campus. he looked up when you froze in the doorway, and his expression softened instantly into that polite, disarming smile.
“hey,” he said, voice low and easy. his gaze flicked over you— quick, not lingering, but enough to make heat crawl up your neck anyway. you were suddenly hyper-aware of the thin strap slipping off one shoulder, the way the shorts rode up your thighs when you shifted.
“sooha’s not here,” you voiced your first thought, because apparently your brain had forgotten the concept of small talk.
“oh, yeah i know,” he looked sheepish.
no matter what complicated feelings you had about him and sooha, you still knew chris was a good person, who was oblivious to whatever was shared between you and his girlfriend.
and standing there alone with him now, you felt a pang of guilt for how thoroughly you had been avoiding him on campus these past weeks, your eyes finding everyone but his when he waved or smiled at you from across the room.
“sorry for coming here unannounced,” he continued, “but—”
the doorbell rang again, cutting him off, followed almost immediately by seungmin’s unmistakable voice.
“yah, did you die or something? open up before i eat all your snacks! don’t test me!”
you laughed despite yourself, the tension cracking like thin ice as you excused yourself, hurrying to the door.
“i had literally been standing here for, like, three hours,” seungmin complained as soon as you opened the door, his hands reaching to loosen the tie he was still wearing from his part-time job. then suddenly his expression shifted, eyes sliding past you to the living room. “chan hyung? what are you doing here?”
“chan… what?” you echoed faintly, stepping aside to let him in, your brain short-circuiting at how easily that nickname had rolled off seungmin’s tongue.
chris looked up, surprised, then grinned wide. “minnie?”
seungmin stepped fully inside, kicking the door shut behind him, eyes darting between you and chris like he was trying to solve a math problem in real time.
you moved on autopilot, taking the bags from seungmin’s hands and mumbling, “i’ll just… put these in my room,” before you heard the two of them exchange a few words, laughter spilling out effortlessly. you softly clicked your bedroom door shut behind you and leaned against it for a second, breathing.
what the actual fuck?
a few moments later the knob turned. seungmin slipped inside, eyes comically wide, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper the second the latch caught.
“when you said sooha’s horny ass boyfriend was chris, you meant chan hyung?” he was unsure whether he found this funny or horrifying.
“how do you know your chan hyung anyway?” you huffed, somehow feeling annoyed at this new information as you plopped down on the edge of your bed, arms crossed over your chest.
“we used to go to the same high school... was in the same friend group for a while,” he said with a soft smile, his eyes drifting to the way your breasts looked pushed up for a split second. “and we had a few classes together this semester, too,”
he didn’t mention the part where they’d fucked girls in the same room, sometimes at the same time.
“well then how come you never mentioned this friend of yours?” you muttered. your annoyance hid something worse; embarrassment.
seungmin shrugged, an amused smile on his face. “i mean… i don’t know, you never asked? he’s just someone, y’know? it just never came up.”
he dragged your desk chair over and sat facing you, knees almost touching yours. the easy teasing from earlier was gone; now he was watching you carefully, like he could see the embarrassed flush creeping up your cheeks and the way your fingers found the hem of your tank top, an obvious nervous tick.
you huffed, trying to play it off. “great. so i’ve been ranting to you about this guy for weeks, and you’re just… casually friends with him. fan-fucking-tastic.”
seungmin’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “to be fair, you never said his name until like… a month in. plus, i think i know like, i don't know, three chris-es? c’mon. i just never connect the dots.”
you groaned, flopping backward onto the mattress, arms over your face. “i hate everything.”
he laughed fondly, shaking his head at your reaction. a silence washed over the room as he watched you, giving your thoughts room to drift back to months earlier, when it had all begun.
you and sooha were civil in the way strangers sharing a small space learn to be.
polite smiles. short conversations about laundry schedules and whose turn it was to take out the trash. you never fought, but you never clicked either. there was nothing to talk about, no shared humor, no late-night confessions. just co-existence.
and then there was chris.
you were strangers at first, your life more peaceful when you didn’t know of his existence.
but then one mundane day you saw him, laughing with his friends, and something about the way he just existed made everything else blur.
you only knew he was a semester ahead of you, nothing else, but ever since then, you seemed to find him everywhere.
the library steps. the cafe outside the campus. outside your lecture hall. he always smiled at you when your gazes met, not in a way that felt intrusive, just… warm. polite. but somehow intentional enough to feel that his eyes always found yours. enough to make your chest feel oddly tight every time.
a few nights later, you told sooha, the day a blur of cheap alcohol and lowered defenses. your living room smelled like spilled soju and burnt popcorn, and the music from someone else’s room thudded through the walls. you remember sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of you giggling at nothing, courage borrowed from the green bottles.
“you know chris, the one with the australian accent? i think i have the biggest crush on that man. he's soo fine,” you giggled between hiccups, the first time you had admitted that fact to yourself.
sooha had gone quiet, just looked at you with those unreadable eyes, then shrugged. “cool.”
you'd laughed it off, feeling happy with your first genuine interaction with your roommate, and had passed out on your bed still in your jeans.
and then the next day, head heavy from the hangover and clothes sticking to your body, you found chris on your living room couch.
kissing sooha.
chris's eyes flicked to you for half a second— surprise, maybe guilt— before sooha pulled him back in deeper, choosing to ignore your presence.
you'd slammed your door as you retreated back into your room, hangover soup or a shower be damned. after that day, your secret stayed buried, known only to you.
that was the moment resentment took root. you told yourself that it was about loyalty. about boundaries. there was hatred, yes, but not just for her, although she carried the weight of it.
but if you were honest, the ache burned brighter whenever you saw him. for her getting to taste what you'd only daydreamed about. for the casual way she'd claimed something you'd never even had the courage to reach for.
at first, it was more than just the noise that annoyed you. it was the inconsideration, the timing, the way they never seemed to care if you were studying or trying to sleep. you complained about it endlessly, venting to seungmin, shoving headphones over your ears.
until one night, something shifted.
you were lying on your bed, laptop open, a movie playing that you had lost the plot to hours ago. and like clockwork, the sounds started again.
you waited for irritation to rise. for anger. for that familiar knot of resentment.
it didn’t come.
instead, for once, the noises weren't loud enough.
you shifted, thighs pressing together almost automatically. the bedframe started its steady rhythm—slow at first, then building. you could hear the hitch in her breathing, the way it caught and released. but your mind wasn't on her anymore.
it was on him. always.
your body moved without asking for permission, your cheek pressing against the door before you had even registered leaving the bed. there was a heat that didn’t belong, coiling low in your stomach. your thoughts turned traitor, slipping into places you hadn’t allowed them to go.
you hated it. you hated yourself for it. yet still, that didn’t stop you.
you fell to the ground as your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts without thinking, without letting yourself think.
shame flared hot behind your eyes, but what was hotter was the way you imagined chris's hands, the same ones you'd seen gripping her waist that first day, sliding up your sides instead. his mouth on your neck, the plush lips giving you wet and sloppy kisses, marking you. his hips rolling into you with that same deliberate pace, making the frame knock just like that. the low groan you'd heard him make once or twice, rough and wrecked, vibrating through the wall and straight into your core.
your breath came shorter, fingers brushing over sensitive skin, already slick from nothing more than imagination and sound. it was humiliating how fast it built.
every thrust in the next room echoed in your head as if it were yours. suddenly his weight was pinning you down, fingers tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp. “you enjoying this, huh?” he smirked, his voice making your core vibrate. he said your name, his lips touching your ears, his voice low, broken, and desperate.
you bit your lip to stay quiet, but a small whimper escaped anyway.
the rhythm picked up—faster, harder—and so did your hand, circling, pressing, chasing.
when you came, you let out a load moan, your body feeling limp and hot.
you opened your eyes and you saw no one but yourself on the mirror in front of you, your arousal staining the floor and your nipples hard against your tshirt, shorts abandoned somewhere near your ankles.
the emptiness of the room hit you like a shockwave; sharp, silent, shameful. you lay there afterward with heavy breaths, heart hammering, staring at the ceiling with wet fingers and burning cheeks.
you hated how good it felt.
you hated even more that you knew you'd do it again.
seungmin’s low laugh pulled you back to the present like a hand pulling you from under water.
you blinked, realizing you’d been staring at nothing—lost somewhere between the memory of that first humiliating night and the present, where your thighs were pressed so tightly together the muscle ached, your breathing shallow and uneven.
he was still sitting in the chair he’d dragged over, elbows on his knees, close enough that you could see the mole under his left eye, and the faint dusting of red on his cheeks and ears.
“your breathing’s all fucked up, angel” he said quietly, no teasing this time. just observation. clinical, almost. “and your thighs—” his gaze dropped deliberately to where your legs were clamped shut, then flicked back up to your face. “—are clenched so hard i’m afraid of what i’ll see when i push them apart.”
heat flooded your cheeks so fast you felt dizzy.
you opened your mouth to deny it, to laugh it off, to say anything that would make this moment less real— but nothing came out.
seungmin didn’t look away.
instead, the corner of his mouth lifted, just a fraction, just enough to make your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
“do you listen?” he asked, voice so soft it barely carried. “when chan fucks her. when he gets loud. do you… listen in?”
“i—” you tried to say, but all that came out was a breathy gasp as seungmin put his hands on either side of you, caging you between him and the mattress. his breath tickled your neck, and you shivered.
you’d always known seungmin was attractive. objectively, of course (or that's what you told yourself). the kind of attractiveness that made people do double-takes in the café line. the kind that used to make you stare at his fingers when he strummed his guitar, and maybe lose your breath when sometimes he would engulf you in a hug and you felt his hard muscles press against your soft skin.
but you never let those thoughts linger, no matter how hard that was for you, because losing him would gut you worse than any crush ever could.
you stared at him now— really stared— and saw the boy who’d held your hair back after too many shots, who’d stayed up until dawn helping you cram for midterms, who’d once driven across town at 2 a.m. because your voice cracked on the phone and you couldn’t say why.
but right now, with his face buried in your neck, pupils dark and steady, that careful boundary felt paper-thin.
“seungmin,” you whispered, hands clutching his arm to… push him away? but your hands stayed in place, involuntarily giving his arm a squeeze to ground yourself.
on hearing your fragile voice, seungmin pulled back a bit, and your body instinctively arched forward at the absence of his warmth.
he searched your eyes for a moment. “you’ve been disturbed by their noise for so fucking long.” he said, voice just as low, “maybe it’s time you gave him a taste of his own medicine, angel.”
your breath faltered at his proposition, the weight of what he was implying settling between you. but before the words could fully sink in, his mouth finally found the side of your neck.
a surprised, sharp gasp tore out of you. his lips were warm, soft at first, then firmer as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss just under your jaw. heat exploded under your skin like someone had struck a match. your hands flew to his shoulders—not pushing, just… holding on.
he pulled back again just enough to meet your eyes, a slight frown at your tense reactions.
“hey,” he said, voice rougher yet somehow softer now. “this doesn’t have to change anything between us. this is just me… helping my best friend take some revenge.” his thumb brushed your cheek, gentle, even if his gaze burned. “if you don’t want this, any of it, tell me to stop. tell me and i’ll stop right now.”
your mouth was dry. your whole body felt like it was vibrating.
you searched his face, looking for the joke, the safety net, the signs of mirth on his face after he would prank you. it wasn’t there.
all you saw was him. waiting. wanting.
but still giving you the power to end it.
but you were just a girl, with a stupidly attractive best friend whom you trusted more than yourself.
“don’t stop,” you whispered, your lips desperately reaching for his. you felt him smile against your lips as he finally kissed you, and he kissed like he had been wanting this for years. like he wasn’t just helping you get revenge.
his mouth found your collarbone again, and the way he groaned gave you an inkling that maybe the times he had stared at your neck was not him just admiring your necklaces. suddenly, you felt something sharp—his hand pulled a fistful of your hair to gain better access— and you expected to feel pain at his rough actions, but instead, you let out the loudest moan.
outside the room, you heard a thud, as if something had fallen.
“that’s right, baby,” seungmin smirked, giving your hair another pull. “you’ve got to scream for me tonight, show him what he’s been missing,”
seungmin’s hands were firm on your hips as he pushed you back onto the mattress, the springs dipping under your combined weight as he lay your head on the pillow. you landed with a soft bounce, breath catching, and before you could even process the shift, he was hovering over you, knees bracketing your thighs, one palm planted beside your head, caging you in without touching you anywhere you desperately wanted him to yet.
his eyes were dark, amused, predatory in a way you’d never seen directed at you before. the boy who used to steal your fries and fall asleep on your shoulder during movie marathons was gone— in his place was someone who looked like he’d been waiting to unravel you for longer than you’d ever suspected.
you tried to steady your breathing, tried to look at anything but at his face, only for your gaze to snag on the way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the faint sheen of sweat already gathering at his throat.
then he moved.
he shifted to the side, reaching for your nightstand drawer with casual familiarity, like he’d done it a hundred times before. the drawer scraped open and your stomach dropped.
no. no fucking way.
“you think i don’t know about this?” he pulled it out slowly—your slim, purple vibrator, the one you kept buried under chargers and old files like it was national secrets. the same one you’d used on those nights when chris’ low groans had pushed you over the edge faster than you cared to admit.
seungmin held it up between two fingers, turning it lazily so the light caught the smooth surface. then he looked back at you, smirking, looking triumphant.
your face was already burning, but the heat that rushed through you now felt nuclear. you wanted to disappear into the mattress, wanted to snatch it from him. you wanted—fuck—you wanted him to keep looking at you like that.
“you’re not as slick as you think you are, angel” he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. his thumb flicked the base once—just once—and the toy buzzed to life for a split second before he clicked it off again. “i’ve heard it through the wall more times than i can count.”
your mouth fell open. no sound came out.
he leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “every time you think you’re being quiet? every time you bite your pillow so hard and think i can’t hear?” he dragged the cool tip of the vibrator lightly down your chest, grazing your hard nipple over the thin tank top. you arched without meaning to. “i know exactly what you sound like when you come, baby. and i know you’ve thought about me fucking you just as much as you’ve thought about chan.”
a whimper slipped out before you could stop it. seungmin pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. his smile was slow, filthy.
“such a little slut,” he said softly, almost tenderly. “getting off to the sound of your roommate getting railed. using this pathetic thing while you pretend it’s his cock instead.” he pressed the vibrator against your inner thigh—still off, just the promise of it making your skin crawl—and dragged it upward in a lazy line.
“but tonight? tonight you’re gonna make noise for real. loud enough that chan can’t pretend he doesn’t hear. loud enough that he’ll lie there next to her wondering who’s making his sweet little neighbor sound like she’s being ruined.”
your thighs trembled. you couldn’t look away from him. “min…”
he clicked the vibrator on—lowest setting—and settled it against the damp cotton of your shorts, directly over your swollen clit. the thin fabric dragged deliciously against you with every tiny buzz, giving the sweetest friction, but also the worst kind of tease, because it still kept him so far away that your hips already ached to shove the barrier aside.
you gasped, sharp,and involuntary, and seungmin’s free hand shot up to cover your mouth, thumb pressing against your bottom lip.
“uh-uh,” he whispered. “not yet. save it. i want him to hear every fucking sound you make when i finally let you fall apart.”
he dragged the toy in slow, torturous circles, watching your face the entire time, watching the way your brows knit, the way your hips jerked despite yourself.
“tell me,” he said, voice rougher now. “tell me you want him to hear how wet you get for me. tell me you want him to get jealous.”
your head thrashed once against the pillow, the words stuck in your throat, thick with shame and need.
seungmin leaned in, lips grazing yours, just a tease. “say it,” he breathed. “or i stop.”
you swallowed. your voice came out wrecked, barely there. “i… i want him to hear.”
“hear what?”
“how wet you make me, min,” you cried out, desperate for more. “i want him to hear how wet i get for you.”
seungmin’s eyes flashed. “good girl.”
with one hand, he reached for his tie, and the sight of him taking it off was enough to make you cum. he caught your wrists in his hands, tying them with the satin fabric before turning the vibrator up a notch.
and then he kissed you again, claiming, while his other hand shoved your shorts and panties aside just enough to press the toy directly against your bare skin.
the first real moan tore out of you before you could stop it. loud. unmistakable.
“that’s it baby, make him hear how much you enjoy being heard.” seungmin felt it. the way your hips jerked up against the vibrator. the way your thighs trembled around his knee. he chuckled.
“oh, you like that, don’t you,” he said, almost sweetly. “you like knowing he’s right there, hearing you fall apart for someone else.” he clicked the vibrator up one more setting. the buzz intensified, ripping a sharp gasp from your throat before you could swallow it down.
“louder,” he ordered, pressing the toy firmer, grinding it in tight circles that made your vision blur at the edges. “come on, show me how much of a whore you are.”
you whimpered, high and needy, and seungmin’s free hand slid up to cup your throat, not enough to hurt you, but enough to make you know who’s in control.
“minnie… ah, seungmin, i’m so close,” you were surprised at your ability to form words, for all that was currently occupying your brain was seungmin, seungmin, seungmin.
it was all to much, the buzz of the vibrator hitting your swollen clit, his hands around your throat and your inability to do anything. and worse of all? the way he was looking at you.
“not yet,” he turned the vibrator off, throwing it aside. you cried out, your needy whimpers making him smirk. he removed your shorts and panties, and his eyes seemed hypnotised by the way your juices were spilling out, already making a wet spot on your bedsheet.
“look at you,” he breathed, and for the first time that night, he was the one who looked speechless.
in an instant, his mouth was on your cunt, his tongue making patterns on your wet walls that made you see stars. as if that weren’t enough, without warning he pushed his finger inside you, making you scream, fighting against the restraints your hands were tied in.
“such a fucking slut,” he murmered, the vibrations of his voice against your skin making your hips jerk. “getting wet at the thought of him hearing you, aren’t you? picturing him on the other side of the wall while you leak all over my face like a desperate little whore.”
your breath hitched, and you felt fresh heat flood between your legs at the words. you wanted to deny it, to close your thighs, anything to hide how true it was, but your body betrayed you: another involuntary roll of your hips chasing the pressure, a tiny, broken sound slipping out before you could stop it.
he chuckled, dark and knowing, his free hand coming up to push your tank top aside and grip your breast, giving your nipple a firm squeeze. “yeah, there it is. listen to yourself. bet you’d come even harder if he knocked right now, didn’t you? if he walked in and saw what a pathetic, cock-hungry mess you turn into the second someone teases this slutty cunt.”
he inserted another finger inside you, and your back arched off the bed with a choked moan. your cheeks burned; shame and arousal twisted so tight in your stomach you could barely breathe. you shook your head weakly, no, no, that’s too much, you wanted to say, but your hips kept grinding, the sound of his digits pumping in and out of your slick folds filling the room.
“tell me exactly what you want him to hear. go on, paint the picture for me, you desperate fucking whore. do you want him to hear you moaning my name? begging for cock like the needy bitch you are? or—” his voice dropped even lower, lips coming up to brush yours as he spoke, “—do you want him to hear you be ruined? scream it loud enough that he knows exactly what a dripping, shameless slut is in the other room?”
your hips bucked once, twice, chasing harder pressure you weren’t allowed to have yet. shame burned hot in your cheeks, your chest, but it only made you wetter, slicker, more frantic.
he felt it. of course he did. “don’t you dare hold back now,” he growled, nose brushing yours. “say it. tell me you want him to hear you come so hard the bed shakes. tell me you want him to know you’re getting off thinking about his cock while i play with your greedy little hole. use your fucking words, angel,”
your throat worked, lips trembling as another helpless roll of your hips grounded his fingers deeper against you. any remnant of denial was gone; only raw, humiliating need left.
“i… i want him to hear me come,” you whispered, voice cracking, barely above a breath. “fuck, min— i want him to hear how loud i get… how wet i get for you… how much i need… how much i need your cock inside me,”
your eyes fluttered shut for a second, mortified, but your body kept moving—small, desperate thrusts against his fingers like you couldn’t stop even if you tried.
he laughed softly, cruel and pleased, rewarding you with a rougher pace and another finger that ripped a choked moan from your throat.
“good girl. that’s my nasty fucking slut.” he murmured, lips grazing your ear again. “keep going. tell me you’d let him listen every night if i told you to. tell me you’d spread these legs wider just so he could hear how filthy you really are.”
“i… i would,” your breath came in short, ragged gasps now, thighs quivering, clit throbbing. you were shaking now, teetering right on the edge, humiliated and so unbearably turned on you could cry. “p-please seungmin, i’m so close,” you moaned, your voice hoarse from your screams. “please, let me cum,”
“you’ve deserved it baby,” he chuckled, his tongue finding your clit again. “cum for me, my filthy little angel,” he commanded, voice thick with satisfaction as he sucked your clit between his lips, humming deep so the buzz traveled everywhere. “don’t you dare hold back. scream it—loud enough for him to hear every fucking second of how wrecked you get for me. let the whole damn apartment know what a desperate, dripping slut you turn into when i own this pussy.”
your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. the coil snapped hard, white-hot pleasure ripping through you in violent waves. your back arched off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as a raw, broken scream tore from your throat: his name, over and over, ragged and shameless, repeated like the only prayer you knew. “fuck—seungmin! yes—fuck! yes!”
each pulse of your orgasm milked more slick from you, coating his tongue, his chin, the sheets beneath. you shook uncontrollably, fingers twisting in the restraints, your thighs around his head pulling him closer even as overstimulation made you whimper.
tears pricked your eyes from the intensity, cheeks burning with the fresh wave of humiliation—he’d made you loud, made you obvious, and god, it only made the aftershocks hit harder.
he didn’t let up right away, lapping lazily through the mess as you trembled, murmuring against your oversensitive flesh. “that’s it… good girl… screaming like the needy whore that you are.”
the aftershocks still rippled through you in slow, lingering waves. your body felt molten, legs splayed open, chest heaving, seungmin’s tie still circling your wrists, no longer tight, loosened by every restless movement you’d made. the sheets beneath you were a mess, damp and cooling where your release had soaked through. seungmin’s mouth was slick with you, chin glistening as he finally lifted his head, eyes dark and shining with satisfaction.
he crawled up your body slowly, deliberately, pressing soft, wet kisses along your stomach, your throat, the corner of your mouth. “fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice wrecked and soft. “you sounded so pretty screaming my name like that. think the whole building heard.”
you managed a shaky laugh, half sob, too overwhelmed to form words. your clit still throbbed faintly from overstimulation, every tiny shift of your hips sending sparks up your spine.
seungmin kissed you properly then, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, with one hand tenderly caressing your cheek. when he pulled back, his thumb brushed over your swollen bottom lip.
“i’m gonna get you some water, okay?” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your forehead. “and maybe clean you up a little before round two. don’t move.”
he slipped off the bed with that easy grace of his, and paused at the door, glancing back at you— spread out, flushed, wrecked— and his mouth curved into something dangerously sweet.
“stay right there, angel. i’ll be back in two minutes.”
the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts. as you forced yourself to take deep breaths, trying to calm down, you tried to process exactly what had transpired between the two of you.
you had never thought this day would come— you, cumming on seungmin’s tongue and him, promising you a round two — but somewhere deep in your heart, you also felt that this was a long time coming.
he had told you at the beginning that things between you didn’t have to change after this, but after getting a taste of what you both could offer each other, you knew there was no going back, and you couldn’t deny the excitement curling in your chest as you looked toward this new stage of your relationship.
but no matter how much you tried, there was still something at the back of your mind, or rather someone—
you heard footsteps. but not seungmin’s light, familiar steps; they were heavier, slower. hesitant.
and the breath caught in your chest as the door opened— and there stood chris.
he looked… wrecked. hair mussed like he’d run his hands through it too many times, shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, forearms tense. his eyes, dark, pupils dilated, locked onto you immediately. they dragged down your body: the hickeys blooming on your neck and chest, the tie still loosely binding your wrists, your legs parted just enough that he could see the slick mess between them, the wet spot darkening the sheets. your brain told you to sit up, to cover yourself, but your body was too tired. and your heart? well…
chris didn’t speak at first, just swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing. his chest rose and fell like he’d sprinted here, as if he hadn’t just been sitting a few feet away, his ears picking up on every little whisper.
“i—” his voice came out rough, cracked. “i… heard everything.”
the shame that should have crashed over you instead twisted into something hotter, sharper. your thighs trembled under his stare.
he took one step inside. then another. the door swung shut behind him with a soft click. he took a seat on the chair seungmin was occupying, not saying a word.
“baby,” he breathed, his hands on the mattress, as if touching you was something he hadn’t earned yet. “you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
you squirmed under his gaze, happy to finally see him look at you the way you had always wanted, but there was something stopping you from truly enjoying his stare, from telling him to come over and ruin you.
“what about…?” your voice trembled, trying to make sense with whatever strength you had left in you.
his smile almost wrecked you. “i broke up with her weeks ago. she asked me to come get a few of my things today, that’s why she went out,” he whispered, his voice vibrating through your whole body. “i couldn’t continue the relationship… how could i, when even when i’m with her, my mind always wandered to the room next door?”
“what?” you regretted not being friends with sooha, because then you could’ve known this vital piece of information ages ago. “but i thought… i thought it was you in her room yesterday… doing… y’know?” you blushed before you could complete the sentence, feeling shy despite the fact that you were literally lying naked in front of him and that he had probably heard you say worse things in the past hour.
“did you see me?” he smirked as you shook your head no, getting up on the mattress, his face inching closer to yours with each words. “or did you hope… did you imagine it was me, each time you heard her get railed. or worse… did you imagine yourself in her place? did you imagine yourself getting fucked,” his breath tickled your cheek, so close yet too far apart. “by me?”
up close, he smelled like clean sweat and something woodsy— his cologne, the one you’d caught whiffs of in passing for months. his eyes flickered to your bound wrists, then back to your face.
“seungmin tied you up?” his voice was low, strained. almost primal.
you nodded once, barely. chan’s hand hovered near your cheek, hesitant, then gently brushed a strand of damp hair from your forehead. the touch was so careful it made your chest ache.
“did he make you come like that?” he asked, thumb tracing the edge of one hickey. “screaming loud enough for me to hear every second?”
another small nod. your lips parted, but no sound came. he leaned down slowly, giving you every chance to turn away.
instead, your back arched, wanting him to be closer.
his mouth found yours, tentative at first, like he was testing if this was real. then deeper, hungrier, tongue sliding against yours with a groan that vibrated through your whole body. one hand cupped the back of your head; the other slid down your side, fingers digging into your hip like he needed to anchor himself.
when he broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, breathing ragged.
“i’ve wanted this,” he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “every time i saw you on the couch, your bra strap fucking inviting me to snap it and hear you moan. i’ve wanted you ever since i saw you across campus, looking so damn angelic that you almost blinded me, doll.
“i’ve wanted you every time you looked away… i wanted to pin you against the wall and make you finally fucking look at me. really look, without your eyes drifting away.”
his hand slipped lower, fingers brushing the soaked mess between your thighs. you jolted, oversensitive, but arched into it anyway.
“seungmin got you this wet, huh?” he murmured, almost awed, circling your clit once, gentle, testing. you whimpered. “i gotta thank him for this then,” he smirked.
in a flash, he had rolled you over, pushing down on your head as he aligned your ass against his bulge. you shivered when your wet folds came in contact with the rough material of his jeans, and let out a loud moan as his hand landed on your cunt as a sharp slap.
“tell me to stop,” he said, echoing seungmin’s earlier words, but his voice was thicker, more desperate. “tell me, and i’ll leave right now, i promise.”
you met his eyes, dark, burning, pleading. “don’t stop, chan,” you whispered.
chan groaned at the way the nickname rolled out of your mouth, like the words had punched the air out of him.
he pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough, cock springing free, heavy, thick, already leaking at the tip. he fisted himself once, twice, eyes never leaving yours.
then he notched himself at your entrance, slow, careful despite the tremor in his arms.
you gasped as you felt his tip enter, already stretching you perfectly, the slight burn blending into pleasure so intense your toes curled.
“i’m gonna fill you up,” he rasped, pushing in inch by inch, your loud cries about him being too big, too much, falling on deaf ears. “gonna fuck you so good you forget anyone else ever touched you.”
with every firm thrust, you felt your bed frame thud against the wall, the sound of your fantasies coming alive making your head dizzy and your moans louder.
“louder,” he growled against your ear, voice wrecked. “scream for me like you did for him. let kim seungmin hear it when he comes back. let him know who’s ruining you now.”
your hands, still tied up, found you clit, as you erratically touched your swollen bud. “fuck, yes, yes! you’re filling me up so good, channie, oh fuck.”
the rhythm chan had set was brutal, deep, punishing strokes driving fresh, broken cries from your throat. you were loud, deliberately so now, moaning his name like a chant, letting it echo through the thin walls, through the cracked bedroom door.
“fuck—channie, yes, right there—harder, please—”
your voice cracked on every syllable, your brained so hazed that you didn’t even realise it at first when the door opened again.
seungmin stepped inside, two water bottles dangling loosely from his fingers, a warm washcloth in his other hand. he stopped in the doorway, eyes sweeping the scene: you face-down, ass up, chan buried to the hilt behind you, one hand fisted in your hair to keep your back arched, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
as your face turned towards him, for one terrified heartbeat, you thought he would be angry, rightfully so, your brain chided you. you thought that the easy affection in his eyes would shatter, that he’d storm out, that everything would end here in shame and silence.
instead, Seungmin tilted his head.
a slow, lazy smirk curled his lips.
he leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms casually, like he’d walked in on you eating snacks instead of getting railed within an inch of your life.
“didn’t know you were such a greedy little slut, angel,” he drawled, voice soft and amused. “one cock wasn’t enough?”
something about the way he was looking at you, not like he was surprised, but rather entertained, broke you in the best possible way.
your cunt clenched hard around chan, visceral and involuntary, and chan groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering for a second. seungmin noticed too, the way your eyes rolled back and the fingers on your clit when slack for a moment.
“fuck— she just squeezed me so tight,” chan rasped, glancing over at seungmin without slowing down. “think she likes this more than we thought.”
seungmin’s gaze flicked to you once again, your flushed face, your trembling thighs, the way your mouth hung open around desperate little gasps, and then back to Chan.
something wordless passed between them: a knowing look, a tiny nod, the kind of silent communication that only happens when two people have already decided the same thing long before walking into the room.
they weren’t surprised.
they weren’t jealous.
they were… prepared.
seungmin pushed off the doorframe and walked over slowly, setting the water bottles and cloth on the nightstand like this was just another tuesday. he stopped right in front of your face, fingers sliding under your chin to tilt your head up so you had to look at him while chan kept fucking into you from behind.
“look at you, such a desperate little cumslut,” seungmin murmured, almost sweetly. his fingers brushed your cheek, then trailed down to roughly squeeze your breasts, another hand came up to your mouth, thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. you whimpered around the pressure of his thumb slipping into your mouth. your tongue curled instinctively around it.
“greedy little whore. all tied up and drooling already. you really couldn’t wait two minutes for me to come back before you let hyung stuff you full, huh?” you whimpered—half apology, half plea—as chan drove in particularly deep, making your whole body jolt.
seungmin murmured, chan chuckled darkly, slapping your ass for good measure as he slowed his thrusts just enough to make you whine in frustration.
“she’s been loud,” he said conversationally, like he was discussing the weather. “kept moaning my name— channie this, channie that. thought you might want to hear it up close.”
seungmin’s fondly rolled his eyes as he smirked at chan, his eyes darkening with satisfaction.
“oh, i heard,” he said softly. “every filthy little sound.” he pulled his thumb free with a wet pop, smearing your own spit across your cheek. “but i think she can be louder, can’t you, baby?”
he unbuckled his belt with one hand while his other hand fisted the base of his cock, already hard again from watching you get wrecked. in an instant, his shirt was also discarded, falling somewhere beside your tank top that you didn’t even realise had been taken off in your haze.
chan pulled out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside, making you sob at the sudden emptiness.
“open,” seungmin ordered.
your mouth fell open on instinct, tongue dipping out.
he slid in slowly, inch by inch, until your nose brushed his pelvis and your throat fluttered around him. you gagged softly, fresh tears springing to your eyes, but you didn’t pull away.
“good girl,” he praised, fisting your hair as he thrusted into your mouth in a rough shove. “take it all in.”
chan pushed back in at the same time, filling your cunt while seungmin fucked your mouth. the dual stretch, the rhythm, the way they moved in perfect tandem like they’d rehearsed this, sent your brain to complete, blissful ruin. no thoughts, no shame, only the primal need to be used, filled, and fucked stupid by both of them in perfect, cruel sync.
they talked over you like you weren’t even there, like you were just the perfect toy they’d finally decided to share.
“she’s so fucking tight,” chan groaned, hips snapping forward. “feel that? she’s clenching every time you bottom out in her throat.”
seungmin’s fingers tightened in your hair, guiding your head in shallow thrusts that matched chan’s pace.
“angel likes being used,” he murmured, almost tenderly. “look at her eyes, rolling back already. bet she’d come just from this. from being our fucking hole, made to be used only by us.”
your body agreed before your brain could catch up.
your cunt spasmed hard around chan, clit throbbing untouched now, and a muffled, desperate scream vibrated around seungmin’s cock as another orgasm ripped through you, sharp, blinding, humiliating in how easily they pulled it from you.
seungmin groaned at the feeling, hips jerking forward once, twice, before he pulled out just enough to let you gasp for air.
“again,” he said, feeling himself reach his limit. “come again while we’re both inside you. show hyung how greedy this pussy really is.”
chan’s hand cracked down on your ass, sharp and stinging, and you screamed again, louder, voice hoarse and wrecked.
they didn’t stop.
they just kept going, fucking you between them, filling every hole, praising and degrading you in the same breath, until you were nothing but trembling, overstimulated sensation and their names on your lips.
chan broke first, a low, guttural groan tore out of him as he buried himself deep and came hard, flooding your cunt with his thick cum. when he finally pulled out, his cum immediately seeped out, hot, obscene, trickling down your thighs, mixing with everything already leaking from you. he fisted his penis as more hot liquid flooded out, marking your back.
the sudden gush, the slick warmth coating your insides and dripping onto your back, snapped the last thread in you. you came again, violently, clenching around nothing, a choked sob ripping free as your whole body seized.
seungmin followed suit, and he gripped your jaw tighter, tilting your head back.
“open wider, angel, don’t you dare waste it.” he fucked your mouth in short, punishing thrusts until he spilled down your throat, thick and bitter and endless. you struggled to swallow around him, gulping desperately while he milked every last drop, hips stuttering, voice wrecked. “that’s it… drink it all like the good girl you pretend to be.”
when he finally eased out, strings of spit and cum still connected your lips to his tip. he wrapped long fingers around your throat, watching with dark, possessive eyes as you swallowed hard, throat working visibly. then he pressed two fingers against your tongue, dragging it out flat.
dazed, wrecked, stupidly proud, you stuck your tongue out further, showing him the mess you’d taken, lips swollen and glossy, a dazed little smile curling the corners even as tears streaked your cheeks.
seungmin’s thumb brushed your lower lip almost tenderly. “fuck… look at you,” his voice was soft now, completely different from when he was calling you a greedy slut. “ruined and still so pretty.”
chan’s hand slid up your spine, slow and grounding, as he leaned down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss between your shoulder blades.
both men drew back for a moment, giving you room to sink bonelessly onto the sheets, chest heaving in the sudden, fragile quiet.
“yeah, just like that princess,” chan whispered, “deep breaths.”
seungmin climbed on the bed, laying down facing you, and he folded out his arm, inviting you.
you giggled as you settled against his hard chest, and he engulfed you in a warm embrace, caressing your hair and trailing soft kisses over your cheeks. “you’re okay, right? did we go too far?” his eyes searched yours, concerned. you shook your head earnestly, caressing his cheek.
“you did so good, princess,” chan whispered, hands massaging your ass, softening the red marks he had left. “so perfect for us.”
chan then reached for the washcloth seungmin had left on the nightstand and began cleaning you with careful, gentle strokes. the damp fabric glided over the sticky mess on your inner thighs, between your folds, wiping away the evidence of how thoroughly they’d used you. his touch was soft, almost worshipful, thumb occasionally brushing soothing circles over the sensitive skin as you hummed in satisfaction.
after a moment, chan settled beside you on the bed, his larger frame curving protectively around your back while seungmin stayed pressed to your front, caging you gently between their warmth. chan’s hand found your arm, stroking slow and firm from shoulder to wrist, grounding you as your pulse still hammered beneath your skin.
you bit your lip hard enough to taste the faint copper of it. slowly, you eased out of seungmin’s loose embrace just enough to lift your head and meet both their eyes; first chan’s steady gaze, then seungmin’s softer, searching one. the question clawed its way up your throat, small and scared.
“are you guys… sure you’re okay with this?” your voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling on the edges. “that i might want you both just as much?”
you hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until their low, shared chuckle rumbled through you.
“we want you, and want to take care of you princess,” chan said simply, no hesitation, a wave of understanding passing between him and seungmin. “both of us. and we’re not gonna make you choose. ever.”
seungmin hummed in agreement, nuzzling into your hair.
“your needs come first,” he added softly. “always. and if you want both of us, then that’s what you’ll get. no jealousy. no games. just us taking care of you.”
chan leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, gentle this time, full of everything unspoken. When he pulled back, his eyes were soft, steady.
“we’re not going anywhere,” he promised. “you’re ours, and we’re yours. however you want us.”
and since then, the noises continued, only now you had zero complaints.
peach notes: lowk regretting the fact that kim seungmin was not inside her, but i felt too tired to write more lol. also, can you tell that i'm a fucking whore for the both of them? 😮💨 no lube no protection and allat. sorry if chan's part felt too rushed, lowkenuinely entered flow-state writing min's parts. (#need that) ( pls don't ask me abt if min went to freakin antartica to melt a glacier to get her the water lol, nothing about this is logical anyway, honestly i just needed them to fuck by that point, i'm just a girl ┐(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)┌ )
and wdym there's more than a 100 (hundred!!?) of you here already!!1? thats insane, i could kiss u all. and i'm really overwhelmed by the love you've given me on my first post, truly thank you so much, i'm so grateful to each of you who reblogged and/or left a comment. pls feel free to drop by and send an ask to lmk your thoughts or literally anything, i would love to chat with you all <3
you'll see me next in march, unfortunately exam szn doesn't let me be horny 💔
— so this is how i think each of stray kids members would prefer when it comes to choking kinks, and i think we need to talk about this more because this kinks is one of the hottest ones there is.
HEY— this is an 18+ post! please proceed with viewer's discretion as this contains graphic smut themes not suitable for some readers. MDNI!!!!
CHRISTOPHER CHAHN BAHNG — PLEASURE DOM GIVER
Chan is the textbook definition of a responsible caretaker. He loves having you underneath him in missionary or folded in half, one large, veined hand wrapped firmly around your throat while he sinks into you with slow, punishing strokes. His grip is never reckless thumb pressing on your pulse point so he can monitor your heartbeat like the protective leader he is. “Eyes on me, baby. Breathe in with me, yeah?,” he growls in that deep, tired-but-sexy voice, forehead pressed against yours. Every time your walls flutter around him as he squeezes just enough to make the room spin, he groans like it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. He thrives on the power and the intimacy of controlling your breath while giving you overwhelming pleasure.
He’ll switch between soft praise and filthy commands; “Such a good girl taking my cock and my hand at the same time… breathe when I let you.” Chan gets especially feral when you’re riding him and he pulls you down by the throat to kiss you messily. The faint red marks he leaves afterward become his favorite thing to kiss during aftercare. He’ll run you a bath, massage your neck gently, and whisper how proud he is of you for handing over that level of control. For Chan, choking isn’t just kink, it’s an act of complete ownership and devotion.
LEE MINHO — SADISTIC DOM GIVER
Minho is a cat-like dom who enjoys toying with his prey. He prefers choking you from behind while he fucks you deep and slow, two fingers under your jaw forcing your head back so you’re staring at yourself in the mirror. That signature smirk appears when your eyes water and your breathing turns into desperate little gasps. “Look how pathetic and pretty you get when I cut off your air,” he’ll purr sweetly, right before tightening his hand and slamming into you harder. He loves edging you mercilessly, choking you right to the edge, then loosening his grip so you can’t cum, repeating it until you’re crying and begging.
When he finally lets you cum, he chokes you through the whole orgasm, whispering degrading praise in your ear while your vision whites out. Minho is obsessed with the power exchange and the way your body surrenders completely to him. He’ll lick your tears, bite your shoulder, and call you his favorite little toy. Aftercare is surprisingly gentle: he becomes the softest version of himself, cuddling you, feeding you water, and stroking your hair while telling you how well you took his cruelty.
SEO CHANGBIN — EAGER SWITCH
Changbin’s massive arms and thick neck make him look like the ultimate dom, but the man secretly melts when you take control. While he can absolutely pin you down and choke you senseless (and looks ridiculously hot doing it), nothing destroys him faster than your smaller hand wrapped around his throat while you ride him. He loves being on his back, muscles bulging and glistening with sweat as you squeeze. The deeper he sinks into that lightheaded subspace, the harder he thrusts up into you, deep voice cracking into broken moans and whimpers. “Fuck—harder, please—choke me properly—”
The contrast between his powerful body and total submission is intoxicating. He gets embarrassingly loud and desperate, veins popping in his neck and arms while his eyes roll back. When he cums it’s almost violent, hips stuttering as he fills you up. Afterward he turns into the biggest, clingiest baby, hiding his flushed face in your chest and mumbling about how he can’t believe he likes it that much. He’ll ask you to trace the marks on his neck for hours.
HWANG HYUNJIN — PILLOW PRINCE SUB
Hyunjin is breathtaking when he’s being choked. He wants your hands (or both) around his long, elegant neck while he’s either buried inside you or you’re riding him into oblivion. His head tips back, long hair sticking to his damp skin, lips parted in a perfect “O” as breathy, theatrical moans spill out. He’s incredibly vocal; “Own me—ruin my pretty neck—make me yours.” The visual of his glassy eyes and flushed cheeks gets him off almost as much as the physical sensation. He likes it on the rougher side, light bruises that he’ll admire in the mirror later, tracing them with his fingers like art.
He’ll beg so prettily, hips rolling desperately while you control his air. The floaty, subspace headspace turns him into pure filth at the same time. Aftercare is essential because he becomes extra needy, wanting you to kiss every mark, cuddle him, and tell him how beautiful he looked whenever he gives the pleasure of just him lying down the bed.
HAN JISUNG — NEEDY SUB
Jisung is an absolute wreck when you choke him. He becomes the loudest, most desperate version of himself. Whimpering, squeaking, and babbling nonsense as your hand presses on his throat. Whether you’re jerking him off, riding him, or letting him fuck you while you squeeze. The lack of oxygen sends his sensitive body into overdrive. He cums ridiculously fast and hard, thighs shaking, eyes squeezed shut, crying out your name like a prayer. “Can’t breathe—fuck—gonna cum—please—”
He loves the dizzy, floaty rush and the complete trust it requires. Afterward he’s shy and embarrassed about how loud and pathetic he sounded, hiding his face in your neck while his ears burn red. Give him five minutes and he’ll be shyly asking if you can do it again later, maybe even harder next time.
LEE FELIX YONGBOK — SOFT DOM GIVER
Felix’s deep voice and angelic face create the hottest contrast when he has his hand around your throat. He loves eye contact, choking you in missionary or spooning position while staring straight into your soul with those dark eyes. “Look at me while I take your breath, darling,” he’ll rumble in that rich baritone, tightening his grip right as he hits that perfect spot inside you. He’s attentive and precise, always watching your reactions, easing up at the right moments so you can gasp before he steals your air again. He loves how your voice gets raspy as you try to talk to him in the middle of it, and that sound alone sends a rush on his spine making him to do more, eager.
The mix of his gentle personality and sudden intensity makes it addictive. He’ll praise you endlessly even while choking you, telling you things like; “So perfect… taking everything I give you.” And aftercare is his specialty. Soft kisses on the marks, cuddles, deep voice whispering how much he loves you.
KIM SEUNGMIN — HARD DOM GIVER
Seungmin is a cool, composed dom who gets off on control and teasing. He’ll choke you with one hand while the other pins your wrists, that smug little smile playing on his lips as he watches you struggle not to moan too loudly. “What’s wrong? Can’t even make sound with my hand around your neck? How cute.” He’s merciless with edging, bringing you to the brink while choking you, then stopping until you’re crying and desperate. When he knew you are about to cum, he would release the grip on your neck, making you whine from the loss, but he won't let you breath in quickly either because even before you could gasp, his choking you again, a little tighter than the first one.
When he finally lets you cum, it’s devastating, his hand tightening perfectly as he fucks you through it. He loves the power and your sweet submission. Afterward he drops the mean act and becomes surprisingly soft, stroking your hair and telling you how good you were for him.
YANG JEONGIN — CURIOUS SUB
Jeongin is still exploring but has discovered he loves being choked more than he expected. His pretty neck and fox-like eyes look incredible when your hand is wrapped around his throat. He gets shy at first, blushing hard, but once you start riding him slowly while squeezing, he turns into breathy, desperate sounds and needy hip thrusts. His already non-existent eyes would flutter shut, head slamming against his pillows with his mouth hanged open as breathless moans spilling out of his mouth just by how good it felt your fingers against his pulse point “Harder… please—feels so good—” He gets lost in the headrush quickly, eyes glassy and lips trembling.
He’s vocal about what he wants once trust is built and becomes adorably eager to try new intensities. Aftercare makes him extra soft and clingy, he’ll nuzzle into you, asking if he looked okay and wanting you to kiss the marks on his neck for comfort.
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──── in which ︵ chan’s obsessed with one thing; hearing you moan his name. what starts slow and sweet quickly turns into rough, relentless pleasure as he pushes you through orgasm after orgasm just to hear those pretty sounds spill from your lips.
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your boyfriend, chan, loved hearing your sweet noises of pleasure. he would do anything to hear you moan his name in that breathy tone, all drunk on his cock no matter where you were. he didn’t mind how loud you got, it only brought him more pleasure. well, you weren’t usually that loud in bed, you knew you’d get a noise complaint if you let your voice out completely, but you can’t really keep quiet when all he does is try to make you moan even louder.
"o—h, chan,” you sighed shakily, your head thrown back in ecstasy as he slowly pushed inside. chan groaned lowly when he bottomed out, feeling your velvety walls pulse around his cock.
he leaned down and nuzzled in your neck, his hands caressing your sides as he started to move. "y’feel so good baby, so fuckin’ beautiful," he murmured against your neck, kissing and nipping on the skin there.
chan being chan, with his hyper fixation with your moans, groaned in pleasure when he heard you moan so delicately, but he didn't want you to moan softly—he wanted you to scream his name.
he wanted the whole neighborhood to know who was fucking you so good, who was making you feel so good. your eyes rolled back briefly when he started to pound into you, the tip of his cock mercilessly slamming into your cervix.
your eyes closed shut, eyebrows knitted together and back arching as profanities left your parted lips along with louder moans. chan relished in them. a shudder went down his spine when he heard you moan his name loudly when he hit a particularly spongy spot. he knew what he was hitting, he knew your body inside and out, after all.
"oh, did I find your sweet spot ma?" he cooed, tauntingly, before slamming hard into that spot again – purposely this time, making your back arch more, hands scrambling up to grip onto his forearms that held your hips in place on the bed. your whole body shuddered and trembled as he kept slamming precisely into your g-spot with a relentless pace, your moans nothing short of pornographic.
chan let out shaky low moans as he heard your sounds grow louder, his fingers working deftly on your puffy slippery clit, bringing you closer and closer to something earth-shattering.
your eyes teared up in pleasure, already so fucked to say anything except "harder" and "faster".
what could he do other than give you what you wanted? after all, he wanted it as much as your needy self.
the bedframe slammed against the wall in rhythm with his pounding, the bed creaking with each movement. your body rose up the bed with each thrust, making chan groan in annoyance. he wanted your body to stay still so he could fuck you harder just like you wanted, but with the way your body was bouncing it was near impossible, and so, he quickly thought of a solution.
you whined when he suddenly stopped and pulled out, "all fours, ass up, face down." he ordered, his voice breathless with unfulfilled desire and exertion. chan watched as you scrambled into position, presenting your backside to him, your face flush against the pillow.
he let out a low whistle, "fucking love this view," he gave your ass a sharp slap before grabbing the flesh there with one hand and your hip with the other. you moaned into the pillow when he filled you up again.
his thrusts were punishing, exactly what you wanted as he surged forward with renewed vigor. chan couldn’t help but notice the way the pillow silenced your screams of pleasure.
oh, he was having none of that.
his hand left your ass and tangled in your hair, wrapping your locks around his hand before tugging your head up. your moans immediately filled the room, making his whole body shudder. your moans were music to his ears.
"fu—ck, chan, cumming, o—h," you mewled, "m’gonna—gonna cu—m." he grunted in satisfaction when he heard your desperate – barely coherent – words.
"oh yeah? fuckin’ come on this big dick," one hand came down and around to draw quick circles on your swollen clit in time with his thrusts.
"c’mon ma, wanna feel you fucking suffocate my cock." his voice was a near growl as he worked you closer and closer.
your body shook and trembled when you reached your peak, pure unadulterated pleasure etched on your features as you moaned his name. he didn’t stop, he couldn’t, not when you were moaning his name like that. you gasped when he pushed you down fully, your front side now flush against the mattress as he started to pound into you.
this was it. this was the position.
chan moaned lowly in pleasure when he heard your loud gasping moans, the way your legs lifted whenever he went balls deep only spurred him on. he fucked you mercilessly, and you couldn’t move away, you were trapped between his body and the bed. his hand yanked your head back by your hair so he could hear all the sounds you were making without it being muffled by the bed or pillow.
"fucking love your sounds baby, your sweet fuckin’ moans, only for me." he moaned in your ear, causing shudders to ripple through your body.
you were fast approaching your second orgasm, the feeling of him going so deep and so fast was too much for you. his hand that was on your hair snaked around and wrapped itself around your throat. not quite cutting air supply, but enough pressure to have you gasping.
his free hand snaked under your body and strummed your bundle of nerves, the stimulation on your clit along with him repeatedly hitting your sweet spots deep inside you was your undoing. you let out high pitched keens and cries as you came again, your whole body shaking.
your pussy clenched around his cock rhythmically, all while pulling him in more. "f-fu—ck, your pussy’s fucking pulling me in, greedy girl," he groaned as he felt his release so close that he could practically taste it.
a few more brutal slams and chan let out a guttural moan when he finally felt the pressure in his lower abdomen snap, his hips jerking against your ass as he filled your welcoming cunt full with his seed.
his hand soon left your throat, his breathing ragged, matching yours as his body slumped on top of you, his cock still letting out little spurts of cum inside your quivering pussy, painting your walls white. he nuzzled his face in the side of your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried to control his breathing.
after a while, he finally pulled out, both of you moaning at how sensitive you’d become. and almost immediately after he pulled out, his cum trickled out of your well loved hole. chan couldn’t help himself, he just had to take a picture. he took his phone from the bedside table and nudged you gently, showing you his phone. "can I?" he asked and you nodded, chuckling in amusement, still breathless.
he sighed in contentment after taking the photos and plopping down next to you, pulling you closer by your waist and nuzzling his face in your hair. "i love you," he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hands caressed your body, worshipping every inch as you two lay there on his bed, relishing in the afterglow and love.
i'm watching hannibal for the first time as I procrastinate writing the next chapter, and all i can say is, i didn't know we could make shows about two people perpetually stuck in the last breath before a kiss. the tension is immaculate, give me 15 seasons and 3 movies.
The room felt heavy with heat, the air thick from the way you’d been pulling him closer all night. Bang Chan had been melting under your touch from the moment you started kissing him—soft, needy sounds slipping from his lips every time your hands wandered. He was always like this when you were especially hungry for him: pliant, submissive, eyes glassy with want as he let you take the lead.
“More…” he’d whispered earlier, voice already hoarse, hips twitching up eagerly as you sank down onto him. His hands gripped your waist, not guiding, just holding on like you were his anchor. Every roll of your hips drew out the sweetest little whimpers from him—breathy moans, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. He looked beautiful like this; flushed cheeks, damp hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted and eyes half-lidded in bliss. He gave himself over completely, letting your heat consume him, matching your rhythm with desperate, obedient little thrusts.
You leaned down to kiss him deeply, and he moaned into your mouth, fingers digging into your back as if he couldn’t get close enough. For a while it was perfect, raw, intense, and full of that familiar needy energy he only showed you.
But then something shifted.
His breaths grew shakier. The soft whimpers turned into something tighter, more fragile. You felt the first hot tear slip from the corner of his eye and streamed down his temple.
“Chan…?” you slowed, searching his face.
He tried to keep going at first, biting his lip hard as another tear escaped, then a quiet, broken sob. His hips stilled completely, and his whole body started trembling beneath you. The overwhelming wave finally crashed over him.
You cupped his face with both hands, gently easing back so you could see him properly. His eyes were squeezed shut, lashes wet, tears sliding down his temples and into his hair. His chest heaved with uneven breaths.
“Baby, hey… breathe,” you whispered, stroking your thumbs across his damp cheeks. “Did I go too hard?”
He shook his head quickly, a weak, watery sound escaping him. “N-no… I just—” His voice cracked. “I feel too much tonight. You’re so warm and close and I… I can’t hold it back anymore.”
You didn’t push. Instead, you carefully rolled you both until you're on your back, still connected but no longer moving. You draped yourself over his chest, grounding him with your weight and warmth, pressing soft kisses to his forehead, his wet cheeks, his trembling lips.
“It’s okay,” you murmured. “We can stop. I’ve got you.”
Chan’s arms wrapped tightly around you as the tears kept coming. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes… today was shit and I wanted to feel good with you but now I’m ruining it—”
“You’re not ruining anything,” you said firmly, threading your fingers through his hair. “Let it out, Chan. I’m right here.”
He cried quietly against your neck while you held him, whispering gentle reassurances until the tension slowly drained from his body. When the sobs finally eased into soft sniffles, he looked up at you with red, shiny eyes and that shy, crooked smile you adored.
“Can we just stay like this?” he asked, voice small.You smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “As long as you need, love. I’m not going anywhere.”
summ: jisung came twice already, yet he’s still whining and grinding against you like he’s never been touched before.
⋆ pairing: perv!jisung x f!reader, established relationship
⋆ genre: smut (minors dni)
⋆ tags/cw: pet names (jagi, baby), jisung is hella needy, kissing, lots of whimpering and whining, teasing, scratching, multiple rounds, breeding kink, cumming, creampie, piv, unprotected s*x
⋆ words: 1.7k
a/n: okay, i genuinely think this might be the filthiest thing i’ve written so far. i mean, UGH, jisung being a pathetic, freaky guy who can go for multiple rounds and still whine for more is actually my favorite agenda ever. anyways, i wrote this kinda fast and there was zero beta reading involved, so… yeah. i’ve ‘back to life’ on repeat since yesterday, real banger. now i’ll stop yapping. enjoy this short freaky fic! >.<
the second time jisung came was, honestly, kind of a pathetic accident.
“baby, c’mon…” he whined into your neck, breathing so hard you could practically feel his chest shaking. “i said i was sensitive…”
and yet he kept rolling his hips against you in tiny needy thrusts, completely incapable of staying still every time you ran your fingers through his hair or kissed that sensitive spot on his neck.
“mhm?” you murmured, barely holding back a laugh as you pulled away just enough to look at him properly. “then why are you still grinding on me?”
jisung let out an embarrassed sound immediately.
his glasses were barely hanging onto the bridge of his nose, crooked after the last thirty minutes of complete disaster. his cheeks were flushed, his bottom lip glossy from how much he’d been biting it, and his hands were gripping your waist like he physically couldn’t stop touching you.
and the worst part was that he was still hard. painfully sensitive, even after everything.
“i dunno…” he whimpered quietly, burying his face in your shoulder again. “fuck- i’m sorry. i can’t stop.”
the apology came out so sincere you had to bite back a smile. because jisung was genuinely embarrassed.
embarrassed that he was still turned on. embarrassed by how his body reacted to you. embarrassed that he’d already come twice and still kept chasing you with tiny desperate rolls of his hips.
and obviously, that was only making it worse for him.
“are you telling me you already came twice and you still want more?” you asked slowly, letting your nails lightly scrape against the back of his neck.
and that was a massive mistake.
because jisung’s entire body shuddered against yours.
a broken moan slipped straight onto your skin and his fingers dug harder into your waist.
“don’t say it like that…” he whined immediately. “you make me sound fucking pathetic…”
another tiny grind of his hips. another shaky breath hidden against your neck.
your hand slid slowly down his back and jisung literally stopped breathing for a second.
you felt him tense the second your fingers brushed the skin beneath his lifted hoodie. the way he swallowed hard. the way he tried to stay still.
and how he failed completely.
“baby- ah, shit…” he gasped nervously, pressing himself even closer to you. “don’t tease me right now, please…”
“or what?”
the question came out soft, teasing, just a little cruel.
and jisung made the most miserable sound you’d heard from him all night. a tiny broken whine, completely muffled against your neck.
“i-i’m serious…”
but his hips kept moving slowly, needily, like his body had stopped listening to him a long time ago.
he didn’t pull away even a little. if anything, he pressed himself against you again with another desperate movement that immediately made him hide his face in your neck.
like he couldn’t survive his own embarrassment.
completely pathetic.
“do you even hear yourself right now?”
he let out another embarrassed sound. “please- d-don’t…”
the next drag of your nails against his skin pulled a broken moan out of him that he uselessly tried to hide in your shoulder. another miserable whine.
your fingers slid up to his jaw, slowly forcing him to lift his head. jisung’s cheeks were completely red. his eyes could barely stay open behind his crooked glasses.
completely gone.
“you still want more that badly?” you whispered, amused.
jisung swallowed hard. and then he made the mistake of looking at your lips, because immediately his hips rolled against you again, needy, desperate, like he physically couldn’t help it.
“please…” the whine came out shaky, completely out of his control.
and honestly, that was what finally killed you.
in one quick movement, your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer and sinking him fully into your cunt, taking him in easily.
jisung let out a high-pitched moan instantly, completely wrecked by the feeling of your warm walls wrapping around his cock again so perfectly.
“mmmh- ah, jagi…” he whimpered, brows furrowing as he buried his face against your chest. “fuck… can’t think…”
his words kept breaking apart between messy pants muffled against your tits. his hips started moving again almost on reflex, needy, incapable of staying still.
you could feel his whole body trembling.
every breath came out shakier than the last. every touch seemed to make it worse. and he couldn’t hold back the whine that slipped out when he felt his own cum slowly dripping out of you with every lazy thrust.
his gaze dropped to where your bodies connected, eyes shining while he bit down on his lip at the obscene sight.
“feels so fucking good…” he mumbled against your skin, completely gone. “swear it’s never enough with you… need to fill you up completely, fuck-”
his fingers dug desperately into your thighs while he buried himself back into your neck again, hiding there like he couldn’t handle looking at you for too long.
your back arched when you felt his cock hit your sweet spot. you could tell every time the tip brushed your cervix, he lost even more control.
you dug your nails into his back when his movements started getting sloppier, faster. moans kept slipping from his lips before he could stop them.
jisung wasn’t going to last much longer.
“too much- ah, shit…” he panted, letting his head fall back for a few seconds. “you’re gonna kill me…”
he bit down on his lower lip when he felt himself pounding into you mercilessly, another broken whine slipping out when he noticed your tits bouncing messily with the frantic pace of his thrusts.
“fuck- just like that… you milk me so fucking good, jagi,” he whimpered, gripping your thighs even tighter.
you grabbed the sheets between your fingers, eyes squeezing shut when jisung hooked your legs over his shoulders and started thrusting deeper. both of you whimpered at the same time, hit with the same electric shock.
jisung was panting audibly now, whining and whimpering every single time your cunt swallowed his cock so perfectly.
and it was the satisfaction of seeing your face twisted in pleasure and knowing it was because of him. that he was doing this to you, that his cock was making you feel this good while fucking you this hard, and all you could do was moan his name.
all those thoughts intoxicated his brain, making his cock twitch with pure excitement while he kept up those erratic thrusts.
“love you, ah- love you so much…” he whimpered against your skin, completely dizzy with pleasure.
you grabbed his face to kiss him and jisung practically melted against your mouth. he sighed shakily between kisses, clinging to you even tighter.
soon his kisses started trailing down your jaw, your cheeks, your neck, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you first.
and then you said it.
“ji- want you to- want you to breed me, fill me up completely,” you whimpered against his ear, panting.
and the reaction was immediate, because that completely ruined him.
his hips stuttered for a second before moving even more desperately, like those words finally snapped something inside him. now every movement was full of hunger, excitement.
“baby- wait, wait- ah…” his moans broke apart messily. “too much, too much- i’m so close…”
he couldn’t think properly anymore.
you could hear it in the way he babbled nonsense against your skin. in how he could barely keep his eyes open. in how he kept chasing you even while trembling in your arms.
the wet sound of your bodies filled the entire room together with your uneven breathing and the tiny miserable whines jisung kept letting out every time he felt you clinging tighter to him.
jisung felt his eyes roll back, tongue slipping out as the unbearable heat drowned him completely and stopped him from thinking straight.
you felt your cunt spasm around his cock right before a violent orgasm hit you all at once. every muscle in your body tightened, feeling that overwhelming heat flooding through you completely.
but jisung didn’t stop.
he kept thrusting, inch by inch, burying himself mercilessly into your ruined hole. every twitch of his cock sent electric shocks through your body, his tip brushing against your cervix over and over again.
“oh god- gonna come so deep inside you, jagi. you take me so well, so fucking tight…” he groaned through clenched teeth, voice thick with arousal.
he thrust all the way in one last time, burying his thick cock deep inside your sensitive center, hitting your cervix and grinding the flushed tip firmly against it.
and when he finally lost control, he lost it completely.
his entire body tensed against yours while a broken moan fell from his swollen glossy lips.
his cock erupted like a volcano, cum spilling violently inside you in endless pulses.
you could feel the sheer amount of cum filling you up, hot and sticky inside your body, dripping out of your cunt even while jisung was still buried deep inside you.
jisung threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut while broken whines slipped through his messy breathing. his fingers dug even deeper into your waist, incapable of letting you go for even a second.
his body trembled through the last few spasms, still fully buried inside your cunt.
“s-sorry, baby… i just can’t stop-” he mumbled, voice completely wrecked, still shaking. “your cunt takes me so well, so full of me…”
his eyes were shining, looking at you with that devotion that never left his face whenever it came to you.
he pulled out slowly, little whimpers leaving his throat from how sensitive he was.
then he dropped his forehead onto your shoulder, trying to catch his breath between messy inhales.
his glasses were completely crooked now. hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks flushed all the way to his ears.
an absolute mess.
and yet he still clung to you like pulling away would kill him.
you let out a soft tired laugh, brushing your fingers through his damp hair.
“mmh… there’s definitely something wrong with you, baby,” you answered, staring at him for a few seconds before smiling. “round 4?”
jisung let out the most embarrassed sound of the entire night, hugging you even tighter.
completely exhausted. completely satisfied.
and probably ready to start all over again in less than five minutes.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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⟢ ┆ stray kids x reader. ot8. new relationship. nsfw.
⟢ author’s note: hello, hello!! i’ve been a bit mia this past month and i got quite a few requests for some reason, so today i felt like writing this one about either y/n or skz!member waking up alone after their first time together. it was fun to write it and i hope it’s fun to read<3
genre: smut; slow burn; age gap relationship - unspecified age difference (reader older than baekhyun); a little angst but there's a happy ending
written in 3rd person to be able to get glimpses into baek's thoughts (but it's a reader insert, so the mc is still referred to as "you")
wc: 23k ...woah
warnings: soft dom!baekhyun; sexual tension is strong; male masturbation; hickeys; piv sex; light bondage (blindfolding); baekhyun, um, he likes your stockings/hosiery; lowkey worships your body; a punch is thrown to a minor character in a small fight scene; mention of injury from glass - baek is sweet and tends to you though;
synopsis: baekhyun takes an interest in his housekeeper and reminds her that age is just a number. can you relinquish your professionalism for pleasure?
a/n: thanks for the kind comments on the snippet guys 🤗 i got soo busy with moving to my new apartment but here's the final product! it was inspired by this request. as i stated before, this was so much fun to write and clearly, i had a hard time ending it! lmk your thoughts. - veronica <333
spoilers | snippet | story
tag: @ghost-strawb-eri
Byun Baekhyun is at the top of his game. After becoming a quadruple million-seller and selling out multiple concerts across the globe on his world tour, it’s no secret just how successful he is. And of course, with success comes the opportunity for expansion and the enjoyment of his riches. His already luxurious penthouse was to be renovated to become exactly the way he wants it—down to the artwork on the wall, hardware on the cabinets, and handles on the doors. It was all with the goal of creating a space that was exactly what he’d like to grow old in. Surely, he had the riches to buy himself the perfect home.
Baekhyun found it hard to shake the emptiness that came upon him when he went home to his brand-new residence's cold, undecorated, hardly-lived-in interior. Baekhyun bought this big house with lots of ideas and dreams behind the purchase, but once he moved in, he realized just how big it was and even more, how small he felt. He thought that, to attempt to enjoy it and not feel so miserable, he should make it a home. He could at least make it look cozier. Baekhyun liked modernity in his design language, but some things could still be tweaked about the furnishing and finishes to give it a personal touch and not be so cookie cutter.
With extensive renovations, it takes time. While he waited for his perfectly crafted palace of a home to be erected, he found himself making a temporary one at the best hotel in his neighborhood of Hannam. He looked forward to the completion of his house, but who says he couldn’t enjoy himself in the meantime? He booked a long-term stay in the building’s penthouse suite on the top floor.
In the morning, he had moved all of his necessities into the space and felt out the new setting. Undeniably, he felt a bit bored by the end of organizing his video games and consoles he brought for entertainment by the TV. He wasn’t proud of it, but when Baekhyun was bored, Baekhyun ate. So, after he took a shower, shook a towel through his wet hair, and threw on the plush robe provided by the hotel, he honored his artificial appetite by ordering room service. He reviewed the menu in leisure, resting his feet atop the ottoman in front of the velvet couch he was seated on. For his early lunch, he decided on a roll of Bulgogi Gimbap and fresh fruit on the side. Something light to add to the granola bar he had for breakfast is good enough to pass the time and hold him over until dinner. Over the corded phone resting on the side table, he put in his request to the kitchen.
+++
You rushed through the lobby’s revolving doors, making a dash for the section of the building past the front desk to begin your shift… to a late start. Not only did you forget to set your alarm last night, you also missed the employee carpool van that picks up staff in the area. This forced you to catch the slow bus with an even slower driver that goes no more than 25 miles per hour. This inevitably made you late for your duties as a long-time housekeeper at Seoul’s number one hotel. This also meant that you’d probably get an earful from your boss once she saw the timestamp of your arrival.
“Damn that punch-in system crap. The higher-ups never have to clock in,” you think to yourself as you release your finger from the biometric sensor after it read your print and submitted your attendance into the system.
With no more time to waste, you made your way downstairs to the basement level of the building where all of the facility’s labor force resides to make sure the wheels of the hotel continue to churn. You all are the beating heart of this giant building; though it can be hard fulfilling orders day in and day out, you took pride in the work that you do. You reached the housekeeping sector and headed to your locker to hurriedly change into your uniform. The hotel took pride in having upscale cutting-edge decor while sticking to old values and traditions when it came to service. These traditions of old-fashioned service lived on even in your daily wear. The black housekeeping uniforms were dated, exhibiting A-line skirts, pocketed half aprons, and the hidden retro undergarments of thigh high stockings and a garter belt.
As you slipped out of your street clothes and put on your professional armor for the day, you overheard your other coworkers chatting softly, and… giggling. They never giggle. Not that your jobs were miserable to you all, but giggling on a Tuesday morning when there were still so many tasks to complete—beds to be made, coffee to be served, laundry to be washed—made it an unlikely environment. You turned a listening ear, curiosity getting the best of you.
As you listened, you heard them whispering about a handsome man in the penthouse unit, Mr. Byun it sounds like. They continued to whisper about how attractive he was when they saw him move in a few of his things for a supposed long-term stay. You began to wonder just what this man looked like for the staff to be acting like this—he must be unlike the regulars that come in. Your mind didn’t get to produce many more thoughts on the subject since, out of nowhere, your boss appeared in front of you behind your locker door after you just shut it closed.
“Y/n, you’re almost two hours late.” She stated with a raised eyebrow that is filled in a bit too thickly with a brow pencil that is two shades too dark.
You bowed your head, “I’m sorry Ms. Park, I really didn’t mean to be late. I forgot to set my alarm last night because of how tired I was. I got home very late past my shift last night due to the extra trash and spills I had to clean up from the messy guests on my floor,” you trailed off, knowing it’s hardly enough of an excuse. Though Ms. Park was stern, you knew she was human and understanding at the end of the day. Plus, you’d been a housekeeper there at the hotel for over a decade; you first started in your mid-20s, wanting to make a simple living for yourself and move out of your parent’s house. At this point, you knew this place from the inside out and Ms. Park knew just how valuable you were.
Her raised eyebrow remained planted on her face. “Don’t make it a habit.”
You looked up at her and gave a sorry smile and a nod. You could only hope that it wouldn’t happen again, but you couldn’t make any promises. Her attention quickly shifted to something else, making a beeline towards a marked-up map of the building’s regions with various employee names scattered throughout.
It’s the first of the month. Your eyebrows are creased as you brought a hand to your forehead in exhaustion before the day had even truly begun. Not only was your rent payment due today, but you would also be getting a new assignment for work regions. Each month, the housekeepers are delegated new regions to focus on and be responsible for. It rotates every first of the month.
Ms. Park handed you the sheet for you to review. “Check where you are and get started.” Without another word, she exited the locker area and went to her office.
You let out a deep sigh and cast your eyes to the paper map to see which region of the hotel is your responsibility this month.
You saw your name written next to:
TOP FLOOR: PENTHOUSE.
You weren’t upset about this month’s assignment, actually. The top floor of the hotel housed the buildings two penthouse units. Only one was operational at the moment; the other is closed for plumbing reasons and won’t be reopening for another two months. This meant your load would be relatively light for the coming weeks—a very welcome change of pace considering the chaos that was your past month catering to the second-floor guests. Those were the cheaper rooms with rowdier guests that were not the best at cleaning up after themselves. You sighed once more, but this time in relief. A soft smile even made a quick appearance.
Your closest friend Gloria stepped away from the circle of giggling staff members and peered over your shoulder to see your lucky pull for the month.
“Penthouse section, huh?” She asked with an audible smirk.
You turned around to see that smirk and attempted to wipe it away by rolling your eyes with a nonchalant attitude.
“It’s whatever,” you said as you made your way to the carts to begin stocking it with bed sheets and mints. “It’ll be nice to have a bit of a break from having the messiest rooms in the entire hotel for 30 days straight.”
Gloria followed you and started stocking a cart of her own. With a teasing tone she continued, “I think you’ll be enjoying this section for more than just the lighter workload.”
“Oh please, am I missing something?”
“I hope you’ll get a peak of who’s staying there like I did a bit earlier down in the lobby,” she finished with a wink.
“Gosh, Gloria. Behave!” You ended the conversation as you rolled your cart away towards the elevator to get taken 20 stories high in the sky.
Once you arrived on the top floor, you saw a member of the kitchen staff just leave the room with an empty tray, having dropped off food to the guest you were just about to visit as well. You both smiled at each other as he passed you. You approached the door of the single operational penthouse and give a slight knock—fair game since the “do not disturb” sign was not on the door handle.
To your surprise, you were met with someone attractive, indeed. A fresh-faced man with the cutest rosy, pink lips and shaggy damp hair answered the door; you could tell he had recently taken a shower. He stood in front of you in the plush hotel-branded robe. It was open enough to show a decent amount of chest; the slight definition of his pectoral muscles was on display.
You looked him up and down, too taken by the sight to make sure it was discreet. The usual clientele were old, gray-haired businessmen. What a feast you laid your eyes upon. You faltered for a moment, but you caught yourself. Of course, you couldn’t let your attraction show. You dipped your head, peering to the floor for a moment to gather yourself, and cleared your throat. You prayed that when you did look back up, your interest wouldn’t be so clearly painted on your face with a hue on your cheeks.
“Hi, Mr. Byun, um…” You struggled to announce yourself. “I’m a housekeeper, I’m here to give you some fresh bedding and bath towels.” You got it out eventually. “I’m sorry I’m late getting to your room, I should have been here before you even arrived this morning, please forgive me.” You gave him a formal bow to end your apology. You bowed so deeply in part to keep yourself from looking at him for too long and turning any redder.
“No worries at all, I still had a good supply of everything!” He reassured you.
You came up with a gentle smile but kept from meeting his eyes.
“I’ll just give you a fresh restock to make up for it, I’ll be done quickly!” You headed to the bedroom area of the penthouse with your cart and left him alone in the living room. Looking over to his bed, you see that it is still tidy—he only arrived this morning, so there was no need to change his bedding since it hasn’t been used yet. You still went to restock the bathroom though, as, clearly, you could tell that he did take a shower and likely used a few of the towels. When you walked into the bathroom, you were met with the sight of a slightly fogged mirror, the vision of yourself blurred by condensation that has still yet to evaporate since his shower. Mr. Byun’s shower. His shower this morning that must have been steamy hot. You shook your head to discard the inappropriate thoughts that began to cloud it. You told yourself to get to work and began to pick up the used towels that were resting on the floor. You tossed them into the hamper on your cart and gave a new set, placing the fresh ones neatly on the shelves around the bath. There were a few splashes of water on the counter and floor that you decided to clean up as well, and since you were being so thorough, you then took on the task of cleaning the aforementioned foggy mirror to make it crystal clear once again. This mirror, however, is that of a behemoth. It’s a large mirror that compliments the penthouse’s high ceilings. That meant, to reach the top of it, you’d have to climb onto the counter when cleaning its upper corners.
You sprayed the bottle of cleaner solution onto the surface, starting from the bottom, rubbing your rag in circles, and making your way to the upper region. Once you had progressed to the portion of the mirror you could no longer reach while standing on the floor, you lifted yourself up onto the countertop to continue your mission. No task was ever too big for you; you would always figure out a way to get around any obstacles and leave every room spotless. This was no different. You felt your knees grind against the hard, unforgiving slab of marble as your arm continued to reach and wipe at the reflective glass in front of you. You knew they’d be red after this, but what’s new? As you grow in age, you’ve noticed that your skin bruises a bit easier than before. This is nothing compared to the burns from spilled hot water or freshly dried laundry that were still a bit too steamy for handling. This you could take. This you wanted to take. You were happy to be able to put all of your energy and expertise into one guest’s stay. You took it upon yourself to make sure his stay was perfect.
You made one last swirl of your arm, dragging the rag along with it, before sitting back onto your heels to observe your hard work.
“Well goodness, you don’t have to get on your knees for me.” An unexpected voice broke the silence.
Without thinking, you turn your head around swiftly. Too swiftly. The base of the counter was wide enough to support you and your measured movements as you cleaned, but definitely not wide enough to support the large range of motion you just took by turning around out of shock from Mr. Byun’s presence. You whipped around and your bottom slipped. Clumsily, you were about to be one with the floor, but with fast legs and even faster arms, Mr. Byun caught you before you fell flat on your ass.
You were speechless as you look up at him; you’ve never been held like this, in such strong arms before.
“I didn’t mean to make you fall, I apologize.” He spoke softly as he held you in his tight grip.
That chest that you stared at earlier, when you stood outside his door, was now against your cheek. That cheek of yours that is pressed against that chest felt each vibration as he spoke, along with every breath he took. You looked up at him next, only to get lost in those deep pools of chocolate that he has for eyes. Bad idea.
Speak! Speak! You commanded yourself in your jumbled mind.
“It’s okay, Mr. Byun. I just lost my balance that’s all.”
A beat has past and you still just gazed at each other’s faces.
This man, though mature, was clearly younger than you. If it wasn’t communicated by his youthful face, it was evident by the array of video games that were strewn across the living room console. Of course, you don’t need to be young to enjoy video games, but it was just another piece of evidence to keep your dirty thoughts at bay. You needed reasons. Reasons to not entertain any fantasies in your mind that involved this new, very handsome guest. You were at work and work did not include standing there drooling over someone who’d never see you as anything more than, well, an old maid.
You cleared your throat. You wanted to stunt the nonsense you felt. You needed to part from him and screw your head on a bit tighter than whatever configuration it is you have right now. He put you down, back onto your feet, but a hand remained on your back. His eyes hadn’t budged from yours either.
“Are you okay?” He asked with genuine concern.
You gave him a nod. He seemed relieved until when scanning you, his eyes caught the condition of your knees after you kneeled on the hard marble to clean his tall mirror. His face dropped and so did his body. He sank to one knee while you stood, frozen still.
“Your knees…” He breathed out in concern at how scuffed they were. It’s true that even your hosiery wasn’t doing a great job at concealing the rouge of your skin in that area. What happened next? Maybe you expected him to say something else while he was down there. Maybe a humble word or two about how you didn’t need to do what you did—how he didn’t care, and the condensation would have evaporated anyway. You expected that. As soon as you interacted with him you could tell he was a sweet guest, a considerate one. Not a guest that was entitled. You could sniff those out pretty easily. So, with this nice guest in front of you, you were prepared for the typical nice guest phrases and other words of kindness to be uttered.
And so it came.
“You didn’t have to get up there and clean the mirror at all, really.”
“I know, sir.” You met his gaze. “I just wanted to be thorough and make up for being late—”
Now what you didn’t expect, was for him to touch you. What you didn’t expect, was the warmth of his fingertips to graze your thigh as he placed his open palm against the side of your knee. You saw him look intently at the area of concern.
You sucked in a breath and gripped the bathroom counter behind you. Your face flushed uncontrollably. Had he placed his hand any higher, he would have been able to feel the laced edging of your glossy thigh highs. You opened your mouth to communicate some type of objection to his actions. But in the end, nothing left your lips. You just stared at him with your mouth slightly agape.
Staring at the inflamed skin underneath your stockings, he asked, “Are you alright? I really don’t want this to bruise. I’d hate to tarnish your beauty.”
Not trusting your voice to be stable upon using it, you answered him with a non-verbal, over-exaggerated nod.
“Tell me.” He refused to look at you until he got a response of his liking.
You shut your eyes and unscramble your rampant thoughts. “I’m fine, it will go away soon,” you managed to get out.
Baekhyun hoped you were sincere—he knew he was. It truly would have troubled him if he caused you pain from doing something unnecessary for him. Baekhyun thought, if your knees were going to be engaged while doing something to service him, it may as well be something fun… that incorporates pleasure. And he’d be surely glad to reciprocate. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Baekhyun, shocked at his own depravity, quickly caught the loud, lewd thoughts in a mental cage and tossed away the key. Guilty, he blinked his eyes a few times in an effort to clear his mind and his dirty conscience for thinking those things in front of the innocent, pretty housekeeper who probably had better things to do than be subjected to his desperation.
You took a step backward and he released his hand from your leg. Baekhyun dipped his head, realizing just how odd his touch could have come off. He only got down and looked closer at you out of care—he often had bruises on his own knees from various choreographies that included gliding across the floor. He wanted to see if you needed any ointment as he sometimes did. He was glad to see though, that despite them being covered by your silky-smooth stockings, the damage to your knees was visibly just to the surface and no real abrasions. He came up to meet your eyes again.
“Okay, I’m happy you’re alright.” He scratched the back of his head and glanced over to the living room. “Looks like my jokes are dangerous, so, I’ll let you be,” he finished with a sorrowful smile.
You stayed silent and pretended to look around the bathroom to find more things to do to keep your mind busy. Too bad you had already done everything there was to do.
“I’m sorry, really,” he said just before turning around. He gave a quick look around and commented on the bathroom’s condition. “By the way, everything is perfect so I hope you don’t feel the need to stay too much longer—you did such a good job already.” He exited the room to retreat to the comfort of his couch and the safety of solitude. He, too, needed to be alone.
You could breathe again. You decided to take his word and make your leave soon.
The cleaning rag for the mirror that flew in the air from your fall landed on top of the toilet seat cover. You retrieved it quickly and stored it back onto your cart. Without making eye contact with the guest, you rolled your cart out of the bathroom and towards the main door just by the living room. You thought you’d be able to escape without further trial, but alas, one more thing left his mouth before you made your great escape.
“Wait, what’s your name?” He asked as he got up and made his way towards you.
No, no, no.
You cursed the universe for this additional interaction. Just when you thought you’d be out of here without any more butterflies taking up space in your empty, hungry stomach, there you were. There you were with him once again towering over you, waiting patiently for your answer.
You refrained from meeting his eyes; as he held the door open for you while you slid out with your cart, you kept your eyes at his feet and offered a slight bow as you gave up the private detail. After you told him your name, you took a hold of the cart once more and promptly wheeled it down the hallway without looking back, without seeing his face, without giving him any room to pry for more.
Baekhyun watched you leave.
“Pretty.” He said to himself. Or so he thought, since you were already webbing distance between you both.
Too bad you heard it. Too bad it wasn’t concealed by the sound of the cartwheels rolling across the hallway carpet. Too bad you didn’t hate it enough to beg Ms. Park for a new assignment.
Too bad you found yourself wanting more.
His words replayed over and over again.
I’d hate to tarnish your beauty.
Did you hear that right?
And your name… he said it was…
Pretty.
You sat down at the folding table in the laundry station. It had been a good few hours since you left his room, but your mind didn’t know any better. You ruminated over the conversation; his words were fresh as if just spoken. You’re in a daze as you sit and fold the freshly dried bedding, tablecloths, and bath towels that come out in large masses. You’ve had so much more time to yourself than usual today since you only have one room to tend to—you can’t believe that this will be your entire month. You relished the extra time and even decided to do some extra organization of amenities baskets. New cucumber and melon flavored bath salts arrived this week and you wanted the simple pleasure of smelling them first out of everyone at the hotel.
You made your way over to that area, only to be stopped by Carl from the kitchen. And with him, he presented an ornately decorated bottle of alcohol.
“Mr. Byun in the penthouse would like you to bring him up this bottle of champagne.” Carl handed you a bottle of Ace of Spades.
“Me?” You asked, confused. Any type of food and beverage handling is exclusively designated to kitchen staff. There were more than enough workers today, so it’s odd that Carl came to you.
“He requested you to bring it, specifically by name.”
You tried not to show signs of shock or amusement on your face in front of your coworker. Is that why he asked what your name was? So he could order you around as his personal servant? You inwardly scoffed. But again, as you thought about his demeanor and attentiveness, he didn’t seem like the stuck-up crowd. He’s not that type of guy. You accepted the new mission without further comment—largely because you truly didn’t have much left to do for the day.
You took it into your hands and marveled at the art of the bottle itself. This is one of the world’s most expensive champagnes. You let out a cough, shaken by what you were holding. Sure, you worked in an upscale hotel, and it is to be expected that you come into contact with some of the world’s finest amenities and refreshments. However, this is the first time you’ve delivered things to guests other than fresh towels, bedding, or other medial domestic items. This is the first time you’ve touched something so expensive. On the salary of a housekeeper, you could only dream of making the amount of money this bottle is worth in a year.
You thanked the kitchen worker and began your trek to the man who awaits his delivery.
Little did you know, he was more excited about the woman who was coming with it.
The closer you got to his suite, the faster your heart would beat. You wondered how he would come to answer the door this time. Eventually, you were in front of his suite and lifted a fist to knock against the hard wood that separates your two worlds. It’s amazing how often you’re around luxury, how often you interact with it and observe it, yet, it has never been yours to experience, never yours to touch, never yours to… taste. You finished your reflection looking down at the $100,000 bottle of champagne that was soon to be taken from you.
With two taps of your knuckles and a held in breath, you made your presence known. He didn’t take very long to open the door and eliminate the divide between you two, and he did it with a smile. Gone was the hotel robe that once graced his body earlier in the day. He instead wore a heather beige Miu Miu cardigan and light wash jeans. Expensive. Attractive. Both qualities were anticipated; but it didn't make it any less impactful. At least you could tame your gaze a bit better than before.
“Hello, y/n.”
You were absolutely not prepared to hear your name come from his mouth. It sounded soaked with honey.
“Hello Mr. Byun.”
That formality did something to Baekhyun. At least when it exited your lips. Baekhyun is in trouble if he gets worked up every time you greet him.
“Please, call me Baekhyun.” His million-dollar smile has yet to leave his face; you were beginning to see just how charming this man was. Evidence to how he had claimed the hearts of so many from all over. You were never one to be swayed by celebrity status or experience symptoms of feeling starstruck. You came in contact with powerful, successful people day in and day out. It was just a way of life for you. When you heard that Mr. Byun, no, Baekhyun, was staying at the hotel, you didn't think twice about it. Sure, he was the first K-pop idol in your care, but back in that locker room before you started your shift, he sounded like just another number in the population of other well-to-do guests. You should have braced yourself. Moreover, the faux pas from earlier should have been enough to desensitize you.
“Well, Baekhyun,” you quickly reflected on how personal this moment felt, you’ve never called guests by anything other than their surname. “Here is your champagne.” You extended your arms out with the bottle resting sideways in the bed of your two palms.
“Thank you.” He took it from you and just like when you left the first time, you were about to make a beeline for the elevator, without another word. Faster than your feet though, were his next words.
“Can you stay?” The words left Baekhyun's mouth quicker than he could think. He was embarrassed at the possibility of sounding pathetic, but it already happened. It wasn't like he didn't want you to stay. It popped into his mind and blurted from his mouth with reason.
“Umm...”
You saw that he looked just as startled from his own words as you did.
The guests at this hotel pay so much money that most of their requests—even odd—are fulfilled. That being said, most employees are happy to oblige due to the prospective tips. But this… this was different. This felt personal. Requests to “the help” never felt personal.
He noticed your apprehension and wanted to fill the space with reassurance. “Don’t worry, I’ll tip you for your time.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that. I just,” you paused, “I just am not used to speaking to a guest for this long, for this often, let alone being invited into their space for more than just replacing something they need.”
You realized that you could have been jumping to conclusions—maybe there was indeed just something he wanted you to replace or fix and the question just came out of his mouth with odd word choice. Yes. Yes, that's probably it.
You hurriedly add, “Oh, of course right now you probably just want me to take a look at something for you or restock something,” you laughed nervously. “What is it?”
“Well, take a seat first.” Baekhyun headed to the couch and you followed, taking a seat on the sofa across.
He grabbed a couple of champagne glasses and cracked open the bottle to pour it. It was easy to infer that one of those glasses was about to be yours to hold, but the thought still felt too daring.
“What I want is you. Just to talk, I guess,” he trailed off.
So, company. He just wanted company.
You cracked a small smile.
He placed the bottle into the bucket of ice that rests on the coffee table.
“You don't have to if you really don't want to, I just, wanted to treat you to something nice for your hard work.” His words were filled with sincerity, eyes with admiration.
“Just doing my job. No problem.”
“So, will you stay?” He asked handing you the glass of bubbly.
You’re a little insecure since it’s towards the end of your eight-hour shift. Your baby hairs and fly-aways make an appearance from underneath the bobby pins you had used to keep your hair slicked in place. Without even looking in the mirror you could tell that your foundation has begun to wear away and your lipstick is dull. No point in reapplying now, though. Soon you’ll be back home to cook dinner. Only after would you get a chance to rest and take time for yourself… unless you take the opportunity that is presented in front of you from him.
Against your better judgement, you said, “Ok.”
He was unable to hide the creeping grin.
You took the skinny glass and had a sip of the most expensive thing you had ever consumed thus far. It was delicious and you couldn't believe he wanted to share it with you. Truth be told, Baekhyun didn't usually drink. So why the champagne? He couldn't deny his urge to impress you a bit. You and your company were worth every bit of the $100,000 spent.
And so you talked and sipped and talked some more.
Your conversation gave you more than enough of a sense of who Baekhyun really is. Personable, funny, and filled with stories. As an in-demand artist, whether with his group or solo, he had been performing all over the globe. You listened to the details of his travel memories, hanging onto every word. You were so curious about the rest of the world; you hoped that one day you'd get the chance to become as well-traveled as he was. For now, you live vicariously through his tellings. Baekhyun heard about the locations on your own bucketlist and couldn't help but make mental notes, should he be given the chance to help you turn those dreams into reality. It was cute, watching you speak so freely about the things that you enjoy.
And you were grateful for the space to do it. For the first time, the interests that you kept in your head had a stage to be heard. Is this what he felt like performing in front of thousands of people each week?
There was, however, a hint of melancholy behind his voice. Work—fans—allowed him to go on these excursions that meant so much to him. He hadn't been on a trip for pleasure in a good few years. Time had not permitted it. He spoke wistfully about where he'd like to go back to without limitation of schedules. He spoke wistfully about wanting someone to go with.
Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and the bottle was half-filled rather than the half-empty you would have deemed it before today. You were drunker on the feeling of him more so than anything the champagne could do to you. You felt a buzz from your phone. The text from Gloria sobered you.
Hey, you okay? I haven't seen you in a while.
Not only that, you also saw that it was 10 minutes until the end of your shift. You placed your glass down and shot up from your seat.
“I'm sorry Mr. By—Baekhyun.” You began your march to the exit. “I had a lovely time speaking with you. Thank you so much for sharing a drink with me.” You bowed.
Baekhyun was happy to give you a moment of relaxation. “No, thank you for sparing me your precious time.”
You went to grab your apron that you had taken off and hung on his coat rack earlier as to not get anything dirty. His voice broke the motion.
“Hey, actually, while you're here, can you check one of the lights in the bathroom for me? I think it stopped working.” A white lie doesn't hurt to accomplish a greater good.
Back in work mode you headed in the opposite direction to inspect the supposedly faulty light. Behind you while you were away, he slipped a one-hundred-dollar bill into the pocket of your unattended apron.
Make that a good $100,100 spent.
Baekhyun walked over to the bathroom to find you repeatedly switching the different sets of lights on and off with a puzzled look on your face.
“It looks okay to me; do you remember which light it was that you were having trouble with?”
“Ah. It looks like I just didn't flip the right switch for the bulb over the bath. Sorry about that.” He gave a smile. A suspicious one, you thought.
Nonetheless, you returned to the front door and grabbed your apron to sloppily tie a knot to keep it on just well enough for you to get to your locker before heading out for the night. The door, for the first time in over two hours, was opened. You were met again with the familiar burgundy carpet that exists in all hallways of the hotel. The familiarity of it, however, does not top the unexpected comfort of Baekhyun's presence. You could smell his cologne as he opened the door wider for you: dark with hints of black cherry and sweet, smothering vanilla. It pained you to take in his intoxicating scent. Your eyes almost fluttered close once it wafted through your nose. Did you really have to leave so soon?
“Bye,” you said quietly.
Baekhyun had felt something lingering after the door shut. He wanted you to stay even longer but he knew not to get too greedy. He had to get to sleep soon as well—a very early morning filled with dance practice was on his plate for the next day.
He started a hot shower to end his night. As he undressed and observed the steamy water cast its heat onto the bathroom mirror that you had so thoroughly cleaned, the memories rushed back. He reminisced the feeling of your cheek against his chest and your stunned, shallow breath against his bare skin. He knew that you wouldn't be easy to shake from his mind. Somehow, some way, he had to make you his.
+++
You felt warm when you went back downstairs to change out of your uniform. Whether it was from the too attractive guest or the too expensive alcohol in your stomach, all you knew was that this was one of the happiest days you’ve ever had. You first untied your apron and grabbed it in your fist to discard it into the communal laundry hamper. That was until you felt something within the balled fabric. You opened it to see a folded one-hundred-dollar bill that was tucked into the pocket.
Your hand flew to your mouth. When did this even get here? Besides when, your mind flew to, who? Except, you knew who. There's only one guest that you tended to today and would continue to tend to for the next 29. You felt silly for receiving such a generous tip for a request that amounted to leisure. He didn't need to pay you for your presence; it was hardly an act of real service.
You didn't have much more time to think about it, though. Gloria swung around the corner with her own apron in hand, throwing in the towel for her day as well. You quickly stuffed the crisp bill into your purse and continued to change, wanting to avoid any inquiry she might give if she saw it. That moment with him up in his suite was yours; yours to keep close, yours to fixate on. You weren't sure if you were ready to let anyone else in on it.
“Hey girl, you're finally back.” She announced, giving you a half hug before opening her own locker.
“Hey G.”
“So... how was your day?” She asked quizzically with a notably flirty tone and a raise of her brow.
“My day was good. Normal.” You reassured her.
“Good?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Normal?”
“Uh-huh.”
Gloria closed her locker door and leaned against it with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She countered, “There is nothing normal about that man.”
You rolled your eyes in response. “Gloria, Baekhyun is just another guest in this hotel full of other important patrons.” You closed your locker door as well, purse slung around your shoulder. You faced her, ready to challenge any remaining assumptions she had. Just then, when you saw the smile of a Cheshire cat spread on her face, you realized the cat was already out of the bag. Uncontrollably, your face flushed. You were the most experienced, professional, dignified, housekeeper in the hotel. So, for you, to refer to a guest so casually by their first name and not the last name convention of Mr. Byun that you started the day with, Gloria had more than enough reason to keep her suspicion active.
You closed your eyes in shame at your lapse in judgement. She let out a big laugh.
“First name basis, huh?” Gloria got closer to give you a pat on the shoulder. “Have your fun. You deserve it.” With that, she left first. You heard the shutting of the large industrial door behind her.
You were left alone with your after-work grocery list, a one-hundred-dollar bill in your fifteen-dollar purse, and the scary wonder of how you were to go about your job as normal when someone so abnormal occupied your mind in and out of the building's gold encrusted doors.
Baekhyun had found himself looking forward to your daily visits to give him the usual fresh towels and linens. He’d steal glances and pockets of your time to get you to chat. If only he knew that he was on his way to stealing your heart as well.
He wanted to know more and more about you as the week went on and took every chance he could. He hated when he couldn’t be there to greet you with a warm welcome and a smile. His dance practice sessions were beginning to pick up as his comeback was approaching. This unfortunately meant that he wasn’t able to be there every day during the time you showed up. Besides when he wasn't in his room during the daytime, hated the weekend too—he knew the staff wouldn’t be you. He never looked forward to a Monday so excitedly in his life.
Monday arrived.
One week down and three more to go, you thought to yourself as you opened up your agenda the following Monday. This reflection wasn’t as happy as it usually made you when you crossed days off on your calendar. This is one more week closer to saying goodbye to Baekhyun. He could talk your ear off whenever you went to his room for a simple clean, but he was undeniably sweet. He gave you an absolute tooth ache and you weren't ready to part with your new favorite calorie-free dessert. He was such a treat to your soul... and your eyes. You had come to admire his broad shoulders and back in addition to that chest that you became acquainted on your first interaction.
And him? He was no better than a dog. He fantasized about you during and after your visits, hoping that one day you'd throw him a bone—no matter how unlikely it was. His breath caught in his throat the first time he saw the top of your thigh highs and the straps of your garter belt that held them up when you were bent over. You had a particularly far reach as you dusted along the long edge of a desk; you thought he was busy in the other room. Your fitted skirt rode up as you reach further and further, putting more and more of the flesh of your thighs in view.
In that moment, all he could think about was knocking the duster out of your hand and taking you on that very desk—pressing your torso down as you were bent over and grabbing a hold of your delicious hips that were always just out of his reach.
Baekhyun literally bit his fist at the sight. He stood there gawking in the doorway. That was until he realized he was wearing thin, cotton pajama pants that did nothing to hide the evidence of his arousal. As you reclaimed an upright position, he scurried further in the bedroom to shrug on and zip up a long jacket to hide his crotch. You were none the wiser.
But there you were, at his door on an average Monday at 10 a.m., ready to carry out your average duties. As usual, no “do not disturb” sign is seen on the door, giving you enough clearance to enter. You gave the usual courtesy knock as well—you heard nothing behind the door. No shuffling of footsteps, no “coming” shouted back, just silence. You made a small pout, sad that it seems you won't get to see him today. He is a busy superstar after all. And so, with your universal keycard in hand, you wand it at the door and heard the pop of the lock. You turned the handle and held the door open for yourself as you slid in the work cart.
The penthouse was empty, surely enough. You made your way in further and peeked through the doorways to inspect for the possibility of an uncharacteristically quiet Baekhyun, but you were alone.
You took this opportunity of an empty place to do a deep clean as a treat for him. He truly was such a sweetheart for sharing that champagne with you, and this is one of the only ways you knew how to say thank you on your too small salary. You were in a good mood and excitedly got started by sweeping the kitchen floors. You also decided to finally put the speaker to use that you got as a Secret Santa gift last year. You turned on a random Top 100 Hits playlist and made sure the volume was up—you allowed yourself to enjoy this since the entire floor was empty with Baekhyun gone and the alternate penthouse closed.
You felt free and relaxed for the first time in a long while. You danced around, lost in your little bubble of music and the satisfaction of cleaning up each and every marble tile beneath you.
“So, sweet, chocolate. I just keep on missing it…” The speaker played the next song. You hummed along to the catchy tune and found it to be an oddly familiar voice. You couldn’t exactly put a finger on it, though. That song was too good to not dance to. Each swing of the broom in your hands was accompanied by a swing of your hips. You made a mental note to add it to your playlist and took a couple blind steps back to retrieve your phone and see exactly what song was playing.
Right then, upon the view of your music app activity on your lock screen and the sensation of a firm figure behind you, Baekhyun was not only in front of your eyes, but also behind you. Pressed against you, to be exact. You almost screamed but definitely shook from the abrupt impact. The interaction became increasingly testing. His hands gripped your hips to stabilize you.
You couldn’t contain the peep that escaped you at that moment.
“Chocolate’s a good one, isn’t it?” Baekhyun said.
You found your footing and turned around to face the man behind the music.
He was smiling like a fool. “This must have been the 50th time I’ve heard that song today, but it feels brand new paired with your voice.”
You didn’t address the content of his words but you without a doubt internalized it. He laughed at how bewildered you looked.
“Oh my god,” you said as the heat rushed to your face. You turned the music off.
“Well don’t stop on my account. Please, I was enjoying it.” He said with a dazzling smirk.
You felt your dignity slip away with each second you remained in front of him.
“I’m sorry, Baekhyun. I didn't know you were there,” you said, broom in hand, head down in shame. “I’m just doing a deep clean of things since no one was here, and, well, I had nothing better to do.”
He chuckled, “I came in a couple minutes ago from dance practice.”
You gave him a look up and down, and sure enough, his attire matched the demands of his previous activities. He wore a graphic tee with loose-fitting gray sweatpants. His skin was slightly flushed from the physical exertion. You also took in the sight of his slightly damp hair and forehead. In this state of imperfection and lack of poise, he looked hot.
“Well, Baekhyun, I am very sorry to have caught you off-guard with my presence,” you paused to gesture to the speaker, “and my noise.”
He shook his head “no” to brush off any shame you felt. Before responding verbally, he held a water bottle up to his mouth. You saw him take a long drink. Of course, the water gliding down his throat wasn’t visible, but the external movement of his throat as he swallowed each gulp was. The positioning of his arm being raised made his shirt ride up. The exposed waistband of his Calvin Klein underwear rests above his sweatpants against his lower abdomen. You swallowed and glanced at it and the sliver of skin above it. A slight v-line on display.
Baekhyun watched you as your eyes trailed down and finished his drink of water with a smirk. “Never worry about bothering me. You're welcome here anytime, for any reason,” he said with reassurance.
You figured that he absolutely caught where your eyes drifted because the smirk has not left his face.
In fact, he decided to play with you.
“I'm going to take a shower now, so feel free to continue whatever it was you were doing.” He casually turned around to head to the bedroom. As he walked away, he pulled his shirt above and over his head in one movement, balling the fabric in his hand to soon be discarded into a hamper. His footsteps away from you were so nonchalant, even a bit dragged out as he made his exit. He wanted you to look.
You made a tiny gasp at the sudden sight of his bare back. His bare back that was indeed as wide as you imagined. His shoulder blades moved slightly from the forward momentum.
As Baekhyun turned the corner, completely out of your view, he let out the smile that was threatening to escape when he was still in front of you. At least one of you had to be calm and collected. Secretly, he relished your little audible gasp.
He started the shower and waited a moment for the water to fully heat up. He undressed and thought about the view he had when he first walked in. You, in your fitted skirt dancing away, moving your hips to the beat of his song.
Oh, and he was to never forget about you backing up into him. While he was able to appreciate it jovially in front of you, he knew, even in that moment, that it would give him much more than just a laugh. You two had never been closer than right there in the kitchen, just a few minutes ago. It felt so good to be pressed against you.
He stepped into the shower with conflicting emotions. As pathetic as he felt, Baekhyun couldn’t stop himself from fixating on your hips that he held in his very own hands, nor your ass that so perfectly rubbed against him. He couldn’t stop himself from getting hard and watching his cock grow from the memory. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his fist around it and pleasuring himself; the heavy stream of water masking any sounds of his ecstasy.
He quickly thrusted in and out of his grasp, wishing it was your pussy he was rolling into instead. Even just your lips or hands would be a treat. Your pretty lips surrounding his length and your polite eyes looking up at him… the image got him impossibly close. That is the only reason for you to be on your knees, Baekhyun thinks to himself. You’re so mature, poised, and well-kept. It’s admirable, really. But he craved to get a peek at what’s hiding under all those layers of professionalism.
The hot water beaded onto his skin, making it all the more easy for him to speed up the stroking of his cock. His mind was filled with you and you only. Your pretty voice, your pretty hands, your pretty legs, your pretty face.
With you just in the other room, diligently cleaning and oblivious to his perversion, he came. He breathed out your name as he emptied himself down the drain. Each rope disappeared with a lack of purpose. It should have been into you.
The water was able to wash away the evidence of his arousal, but never his attraction for you that caused it. As the mental fog of his orgasm dissipated, Baekhyun reflected. Though you looked very good in it, you were more than your uniform. You were more than whatever limitations you put on yourself because of your age. He knew that, and he just needs to show you. You didn’t need a man. But Baekhyun wanted to be the man to serve your every need. You’ve been serving others your entire life; he wanted to give you all the pampering you deserve.
Gosh, he didn’t even know if you were in a relationship. He had to find out. He never saw a ring on any of your fingers… at least there were no legal papers to stop him.
He was convinced that you were his. His to please. His to make happy. His to, eventually, love.
It’s almost Friday, you thought to yourself as you were downstairs folding comforters. It was the middle of your workday and you had mostly been alone. When you visited Baekhyun’s suite, he was nowhere to be seen and no surprise sneak-attack happened either. It was just you and your linens this Thursday. You were able to finish his room up quickly and went downstairs for some medial work. Laundry was the task of the hour. You were bored out of your mind as you handled the fluffy cotton bed dressings, making perfect folds and stacking them onto a shelf.
Your mind wandered during the humdrum task. Flashbacks of your Monday encounter came to you. In fact, this isn’t the first time you had recalled that morning. You found yourself replaying the feeling of his hands gripping you often. Particularly, right before you went to sleep.
How could you forget his firm fingertips pressing into you? How could you forget his front against your backside? That night and each night thereafter, you listened to the call of your body. It excited you more than you wanted it to. Your hand moved faster than your mind could stop it, touching yourself to the memory of it. Each night, you finished yourself in pleasure, but guilt was never far away.
You hadn’t seen Baekhyun since then, he had been away during the daytime and was at his suite usually only after your shift was over. Needless to say, the last two days were a drag without him. Every time you were outside of employee-only regions, you hoped that you’d catch him entering or exiting the hotel. The tiniest view of him would be enough to brighten your mundane day.
You were taken out of your thoughts by the vibration of your phone within your apron’s pocket. You pulled it out to see an incoming call from Gloria.
Basked in annoyance, she tells you she needs help with an unruly guest in the lobby.
“I’ll be there.”
You hung up the phone in wonder of what could be going on that Gloria couldn’t handle alone. You checked the time—1:15 pm your phone reads. It was exactly the middle of the single security guard’s lunch break.
“Great,” you said to yourself with an eyeroll. You pushed aside the comforter you were just handling and made your way out the double doors into the lobby.
As the lobby came into view, so did Gloria and a tall man in a suit who held an expression of anger. Beneath them both was a broken champagne flute. Its shattered glass pieces strewn on the floor.
“What’s going on?” You asked as you entered the tense atmosphere.
Gloria whispered to you, “He’s getting back at me for telling him he can’t order anymore mimosas. They were part of the brunch special and it ended half an hour ago.”
“Hey, what? You called for help?” The man scoffed. You could smell the alcohol on his breath. You wonder just how many of these he drank to end up like this. “Maybe helper number two can give me the assistance I want.” He pointed to the mess on the floor.
“Clean it up and get me another drink.” He sneered.
“Sir—” You began, exasperated and in disbelief at how entitled he was.
He grabbed your arm and threw you to the ground. You had your hands out in front of you to catch yourself. Just then, you felt a couple shards pierce the skin of your palms.
“Now that you’re on your knees how I asked, clean up the damn glass.”
Baekhyun saw all of this unfold as he entered the lobby’s doors. He was returning from some morning meetings to the sight of the woman he grew fond of getting disrespected. He approached the scene to come to your rescue, seething with anger as he took each step.
You suddenly felt a pair of hands at your shoulders, assisting you in standing up to your feet once again. You turned around and saw your favorite face. Baekhyun looked back at you with a sorry expression. It didn’t last for long, though. Soon his eyes darted toward the rude man in front of you. Baekhyun shot daggers that would strike with vigor if the guest had any ounce of shame.
“What? That’s what they’re here for,” the man said with no remorse.
Baekhyun replied, “This is your own fault. Even with cleaning it up, they wouldn’t be down on the floor to pick up each piece. It would get swept up.” He was at his wit’s end.
“Sure, but I like to see them where they belong. At my feet. And isn’t it so much fun to watch them bend ov—”
His words were robbed from him. Baekhyun punched him squarely in the jaw, knocking any intention of finishing that crass sentence out of him.
“Baekhyun, no!” You shouted as you got between the two men.
The security guard finally reclaimed his post and made himself known as he asked what the commotion was. Gloria stayed to explain and handle things while you stepped to the side with Baekhyun to calm him down.
He noticed your injured hand, hating that you got hurt over something so unnecessary. He caught additional damage on your knees that you missed yourself.
“You’re hurt.” He said it plainly.
“I’ll just—”
“Let me take care of you.”
Your cheeks flushed. “What?”
He picked you up into his arms as if you were light as a feather. If bystanders’ eyes weren’t on you already, they surely were in that moment. He carried you to the elevators, causing a scene that made Gloria and even the security guard pause.
You aggressively whispered to him. “What are you doing? Everyone is looking!”
With the sound of your protests doing nothing to dissuade him, Baekhyun entered the elevator with you in his arms and took you up to his suite. You gave up your pleas eventually. By the time he was approaching the door to his room, your head had fallen against his chest. Your eyes already fluttered close. It felt blissful to put your head against something—someone—warm. You felt selfish for enjoying the moment. This moment of Baekhyun putting himself out for you when it should only ever be the other way around. He is the guest and you are the worker. It felt like everything under the kitchen sink of negativity. Wrong? Check. Inappropriate? Absolutely. Reprimand-able? Indeed, Ms. Park would kill you if she saw this scene.
It was all those things, and still, most of all, it was sweet. It was caring. Of him, it was selfless. You kept the creeping shame you felt at bay by reasoning that two things could be true: you like this, and this is something that needs to be kept a secret. Further, this is daunting and irresponsible, and it is fun. No matter how contradictory it felt, it was reality. You waded in the morally gray lake that is this unexpected connection you two share. The comfort of dichotomy no longer existed.
Still, the least you could do to clear your conscience is give gratitude.
You muttered a gentle, “Thank you,” once he got to the door and set your feet down to the floor.
He smiled down at you without a single hint of reservation or fatigue. If anything, he wanted to do more for you.
He put his hand at the small of your back to guide you in before leading you to sit on the couch. The velvet couch cushions sunk beneath you. He retrieved his own first aid kit from his luggage to tend to your hand. He took the seat next to you and rested your palm in his lap.
With a pair of tweezers, he extracted the tiny pieces of glass that were still wedged in your injured palm. You winced in pain. He gave a coaxing stroke of his thumb along the side of your hand. You mentally prepared yourself as he pulled out the cotton balls and alcohol. The sterilizing liquid stung sharply as he pressed the soaked soft fibers against the cuts. You sucked in a breath and gripped his wrist out of instinct.
“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun said sympathetically.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I want to.” He paused with his eyes locked to yours. “I’m the customer, correct? My request to you, as the person I am paying, is to let me take care of you.”
The air fell silent yet the beating of your heart echoed in your ears. You wondered if he could see the rise and fall of your chest from your suddenly labored breathing. You opened your mouth to get something, anything out. But the band aids were applied swiftly and he was quickly up and out of your vision to put away his supplies.
Baekhyun made his point confidently but walked away with a hint of a rouge on his cheeks. He returned to hand you a menu: the hotel’s menu for room service.
“See if there’s anything you want.” He said before disappearing into the bathroom.
You looked over the menu, turning over the pages in awe at the expensive food choices. It all sounded so good, but the prices were something that you could never make Baekhyun pay. You've never been able to afford any entrees from the hotel. Sure, you've nibbled on the leftover hors d’oeuvres that the kitchen staff would hand out, but never a complete meal.
Your eyes skimmed the pages and your appetite increased. Still, you didn't want to be too much of a burden, so when he returned, you asked for just some tea and crackers.
He reclaimed his seat and took the menu that you placed to the side.
“Tea and crackers?” He questioned.
“Yes, I don’t have much of an appetite.” You lied through your teeth. Too bad your stomach wasn’t as good of an actor. As if you were in a sitcom, your stomach released a perfectly (horribly) timed growl. You quickly held your mid-section in embarrassment. “Ignore that.”
“Mhmm.” Baekhyun responded sarcastically.
He picked up the corded phone and pressed the button to the kitchen to input his order.
“Hello, I’d like to order room service… I’d like two Perriers and two truffle pastas with asparagus.”
He hung up the phone and turned to you with a cocky grin.
“I don’t think I heard ‘tea’ or ‘crackers’ in there at any point,” you confronted.
“It’s my favorite dish here. You’ll like it. I promise.”
You looked down at your hands, unaware of what to say next. He was pretty stubborn and firm in his decisions. You knew that there was nothing to say, really.
He looked over to you to say, “You don’t need to deny yourself something nice.” He noticed how stiff you were as well. You sat up completely straight with your hands in your lap, only looking forward, or down. The distance felt too great. In an effort to make you more comfortable, he decided to lay your legs across his lap. He picked them up and rested them on his thighs. You were unable to hide the surprise on your face.
“Just relax while we wait,” he finished with your name in a casual breath.
One hand rested on your lower leg as the other scrolled on his phone.
You felt yourself sink deeper into the soft couch with this new horizontal position. You adjusted to the new placement and looked up at him shyly; you got a small smile in return.
“You don’t deserve that type of treatment, you know.”
You replied, “It doesn’t happen too often.”
“Well, it shouldn’t happen at all.”
You stayed quiet and reflected on the nature of your job. Service jobs always come with their cons—dealing with less than pleasant patrons was just a de facto aspect that everyone comes to accept. Especially in an environment like this where your money speaks louder than anything that could come out of your mouth. The big egos of the big businessmen who stayed at your hotel were no foreign sight. Unfortunately, getting wind of rich people’s entitlement was one of the first things you had observed when you joined the establishment.
Baekhyun cleared his throat, taking you out of your thoughts.
Your eyes shot up. “Sorry, a lot on my mind.”
“I bet,” he said as he put his phone down. He reached for your calves that rested on him instead. He began to rub and knead the muscles.
He was giving you a massage.
It felt good.
He smoothed your overworked calves with his thumbs; his hands were even softer than the velvet fabric that pressed against you. You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of him working your muscles until they were no longer taut.
It was relaxing, too relaxing. You found yourself fighting the urge to drift asleep, but it was too much to overcome. Without protest, Baekhyun noticed the change in your consciousness from the deeper slouch of your body into the cushions. He didn’t wake you. You deserve to rest, he thought. He took the time to observe your features closely. He moved forward just a little, your legs still resting across his lap. He leaned in, as if he would steal a kiss. Stronger than his intrusive thoughts, though, was his curiosity. He thought you were beautiful immediately upon seeing you at his door. Yet, you had never given him the chance to truly get a good look at your features. You always looked away or cast your head downwards out of the raw shyness that you excused as professionalism. He knew you were interested. You didn’t do a very good job hiding your own extra glances or lip biting whenever you caught him sweaty from dance practice or just lounging about in the gray sweatpants that appeared to be your favorite. He knew that seeing his hands closely and feeling them against you, even just briefly in innocently excused contact, did something to you. You’d swallow and your lips would tighten whenever his fingertips grazed you when handing you something. All of the tiny notes Baekhyun made in his head amounted to an encyclopedia of you. More and more, he wanted to know what made you tick.
But no. He didn’t kiss you then. Rather than be the daring man he wish he’d be sometimes, Baekhyun was as gentle and observant as he always was. He took a mental picture. Hopefully this won’t be his last. Hopefully this won’t be his last time being this close to you. And hopefully, the next time he is, it is under better circumstances.
A knock on the door made your eyes open and him retreat.
“I’ll go get that.” Baekkhyun rose and went to the door.
“Wait, I have to hide!” You said antsy and afraid of the delivery personnel recognizing you on the couch. You made a dash to his bedroom and shut the door behind you. You pressed your ear to the door and listened to the polite exchange between Baekhyun and the employee. While you eavesdropped, your eyes swept the room. Soon, they were glued to the corner of the room where you spotted various silk neck scarves sloppily piled on his nightstand. They were your favorite accessory; you couldn’t help but move closer to them and inspect their prints. You picked one up and admired the artwork on this fine fabric, you caught the tag, shocked to see the Hermes brand name. It was beautiful, but you understood that you would never be able to have such nice things. You picked up another, in awe of the quality and intricacies.
Baekhyun interrupted your inspection with the opening of the door and the announcement that the coast is clear. Embarrassed, you quickly put down the scarf you were holding and walked toward the door.
“Sorry, coming now,” you said hoping you didn’t get caught.
But alas, he said, “Were you looking at the scarves?”
Timidly, you responded, “Yes, for a bit. They caught my eye. You have a very nice collection. I love silk scarves.” Baekhyun caught the twinkle in your eye.
“Oh yeah?”
You gave a nod and were about to slip out the doorway until he spoke again.
“Which one is your favorite?” Baekhyun walked to the side of the bed that the nightstand and scarves were by. He patted the space next to him for you to join him.
“Well...” You began, taking a seat and properly looking at them all as he laid them out between you.
You thought about it, taking another look at the two you already had your hands on and observing all the others. Eventually, you concluded that the Carre Libre scarf was your favorite.
“I love the palette and the quirky little drawings are adorable.” You touched it along its edging. “The stitchwork on it is impeccable as well.”
Baekhyun smiled and picked it up before leaning closer to tie it around your neck. Your eyes went large at the gesture. He made the perfect knot.
“Maybe I want my housekeeper to look like a flight attendant today,” he joked.
You cracked a smile amidst how bashful you felt. Every time the corners of your mouth raised, he felt like he won the lottery.
“You can have it.”
“Oh no, I could never.” You reached up to untie the beautiful fabric. He grabbed your hands and held them in his, down at your lap. You felt your cheeks heat up at the feeling of his big hands around yours. They were warm and soft and you wanted to remember them forever.
“Keep it. In fact, I want that to be part of your uniform now. Wear it every day that you come to see me,” Baekhyun paused, “I mean, every day that you come to see my suite.”
He remembered then, that, no matter how much he enjoyed his time with you, he still couldn’t make any real assumptions about how you felt about him. He knew that ultimately, you were a hard worker with a strong work ethic. There were those extra glances and lingering stares that made Baekhyun feel like he had a chance, but in this moment, his nerves cropped up. All your attentiveness towards him could very well just be you doing your job passionately. Either way, he wanted to reward you. He wanted you to know that to him, you were special.
“Right. Okay then.” You ended with a nervous giggle. You got up to look in the bedroom’s mirror. You were beaming at the new addition to your work uniform. You really liked it. More than you wanted to admit. He came up to stand behind you and if you had dared to move your eyes away from yourself in the reflection, you would have seen his doting gaze on you.
“Thank you, Baekhyun.”
He loved seeing you happy and had a satisfied grin of his own.
“Let’s eat,” he said taking your hand into his and seating you, this time, at the dining table.
You both dig into the pasta dishes, enjoying the cuisine and the company.
You didn’t get what you asked for, but he surely gave you what you wanted: the nicer things that you never let yourself have. It was a common theme in your interactions; you were professional to a fault, and he loosened your collar of austerity.
He had truly decoded you, having a sense of which of your “No’s” really meant “Yes.”
He made space for you in this bed of luxury that you were always making and tending to, but never rested in. You allowed each other to escape. You from your tax bracket and mundanity, him from his loneliness.
Just before the end of your shift, you left his room with a new gifted accessory and a smile that was impossible to wipe off your face. He bid you goodbye at the door, and just out of the corner of your view, Gloria was just walking past that hallway. She halted her steps to observe the exchange of “goodnights” between you two. Not only did she catch the looks of longing, but also the neck scarf you’re sporting. Just then, you touched it and thanked him for it one last time before turning to head to the elevator down the hallway near Gloria.
Gloria briskly made her way to the door to the stairwell, not wanting to be caught seeing your interaction. She smiled to herself, rooting for your newfound spark, and ultimately, your happiness.
You went home last night with a full belly and an even fuller heart, swollen with feelings for the young gentleman whose suite has been in your care for the past couple of weeks. You got dressed in your uniform this Friday morning in the locker room. It went as usual: the garter belt, the thigh highs, the skirt and blouse. You were just about to shut your locker and begin your day until the corner of a soft black fabric that peaked out of your purse caught your eye. How could you forget the special new addition? You tied it around your neck, just how Baekhyun did it for you.
“Good morning,” Gloria said, startling you in the middle of your knot. She came in so quietly, you didn’t even notice. Or were your thoughts too loud and happened to drown out the world around you?
“Hi! Good morning,” you said a bit shaken. You saw her eyes flicker to the silk that decorated your neck. “Oh, yeah. It’s new!” You said nervously while giving your hair a quick smooth over before shutting the locker door. You rushed to leave, not wanting any room for her to pry for more details.
“You look pretty.” Gloria yelled the sweet affirmation before you dashed out the door.
You turned back and ran to give her a hug. She welcomed the embrace and you felt the icy guilt melt off of your weary heart. You pulled away and looked back at your friend of 10 years. She recognized a light in you that she hadn’t seen in a long time. No words were spoken. She knew, but didn’t feel the need to say anything and you were relieved she didn’t. This whole time, you’ve felt captive to your own thoughts and just needed to express your happiness to someone else—somehow, some way. The physical connection of a hug did just that. You weren’t ready to speak about it out loud yet, no, that would make it too real. You wanted to spend just a little more time wading in the privacy of you and Baekhyun’s secret bond.
“Go, go. Your shift is starting,” Gloria said while ushering you out.
You finally made it out, and this time, without anxiety. You feel free. Free in your thoughts, free in your feelings, free in your desires.
Right then, you realized that these two very important things are true:
You could still be a great housekeeper. In fact, you were a great housekeeper.
And like Gloria said on day one, you could still have your fun.
+++
Baekhyun saw you that morning. Actually, he watched you. He loved the sight of you going about your day wearing something that he gave you. He wanted it to last forever. Too bad he had his own errands to run before you were done.
He bid a farewell to you and took a long look at you while you reached and dusted behind the TV. You were distracted by the dust bunnies while he was distracted at the curve of your body as you unconsciously stuck out your ass, leaning forward.
He didn’t wait a moment longer to finally leave for the elevator. It occurred to him that, despite you not wearing a ring on your finger, you could still be in a relationship. What if he was getting his hopes up when you were already taken all along? He felt guilty about that extra glance at you he just took. Rather than guilty, really, he felt frustrated. Each day you walked in there looking absolutely beautiful. You and him were so close yet still so far apart. He felt like he was looking at you through glass. The only way he could break it is if he knew for sure if you were already in a relationship. Baekhyun was bold but not bold enough to ask you that straight to your face.
Good thing that on his way out, he ran into your number one confidant in the hotel in the lobby.
She also happened to be alone, restocking the amenities and refreshments. This was his chance.
“Hi, you're... Gloria, right?” He asked after recognizing her from the altercation the prior day.
“Who's asking?” She replied sassily though picked up on his sincerity.
“My name is Byun Baekhyun, I'm staying up in the penthouse.”
“I know,” Gloria replied without pausing to look at him.
“Well, I just wanted to ask about your coworker,” Baekhyun began.
Gloria paused and finally looked up at him with a raised brow. She asked if it was you, with a knowing smile.
Baekhyun gave a bashful nod. “How'd you know?”
“What do you want to know, Mr. Byun?”
She made her way to the coffee machines to change the filters.
“Well, umm...” Baekhyun followed to keep up. “Do you know if...” He trailed off, suddenly unconfident in his delivery and the question itself. He realized how odd it could sound.
“Do I know if she's in a relationship?” Gloria finished for him.
Baekhyun let out a puff of air before pursing his lips and letting out a terse, “Yes.”
Gloria grinned, tossing the old filters away as Baekhyun trailed behind her like a puppy.
“You don't want to ask her yourself, Mr. Byun?”
“This is just easier, but I understand if—”
“No, Mr. Byun.” Gloria met his eyes. “She is not in a relationship.”
Baekhyun tried to stifle his smile but failed.
Gloria warned, “I will say it's been a while. She divorced her husband four years ago after he cheated on her.”
Baekhyun's smile was softened with a look of solemnity.
“Have fun, make her happy, she deserves it. Just, don't hurt her.”
“You have my word, Gloria. Thank you.”
Baekhyun continued his way out the revolving doors of the hotel to get on with his day. But now, he carried on with renowned motivation. Now, he knew that he had a future Mrs. Byun to court.
+++
Baekhyun returned that afternoon. He visited his room to scribble a quick note before poking his head throughout the lobby to find Gloria. After looking around for a few minutes—checking the lounge, the billiards room, the coffee bar, Gloria finally appeared from the depths of the “employee only” section double doors, pushing the familiar cart of supplies and linens.
He beamed upon spotting her. And she, she was confused.
“So, we meet again,” Baekhyun teased.
“What now? Are you curious about where she lives? Sorry, you’re not getting that much info.”
He chuckled. “You really know how to make me laugh.”
“Yes. I’m known to be funny,” Gloria gave a cheeky shrug. “What do you need Mr. Byun?”
“A favor. A big favor. Do you mind leaving this note somewhere in the back where she’ll find it?”
Gloria looked down at the paper he was referring to and saw your name written on it. Her eyes switched back up to his pleading ones.
“Again, you don’t want to deliver or say it to her yourself?”
“Please, pretty please,” he pestered and pouted in front of the busy employee that had little patience for antics.
“Fine,” Gloria said with a playful eyeroll as she took the paper from him.
She left her cart to the side to turn around and make a quick visit to the back. Baekhyun didn’t forget to show Gloria his appreciation for all her help. While Gloria was away, he slipped a $100 bill onto her cart and disappeared before she could return and thank him.
Indeed, you found the note at the end of your shift, wedged in the closure of your locker door. It was a hotel-branded memo sheet folded in half with your name on the outside. You couldn’t pin whose handwriting it was.
You opened it up to read its contents.
This Saturday night – yep, tomorrow – you busy?
Meet me at Dokseodang Children’s Park. 9:30pm.
He wrote his phone number as well. And next to it read,
Text me yes or no.
I want to show you something pretty... besides yourself, of course.
-Baekhyun
There it was again. Pretty.
Even without being in front of you, he could make your cheeks heat up just like that. You wondered how he was so forgetful of your age. It’s not that difficult to see. You didn’t find yourself ugly, but you certainly were not the conventional definition of pretty when that is typically ascribed to those more youthful than you. Not to mention, Baekhyun is a celebrity himself who is in social circles filled with others of his demographic—including female counterparts. Surely, he must be more attracted to them than you.
You sat down on a nearby bench and stared at the note in your hand.
You looked at the location again. Dokseodang Children’s Park. You had a general idea of where it could be but pulled out your phone to check. It’s not too far, just on the east side of Hannam. Doable. You don’t really know much about the area outside of the hotel property. UN Village was as exclusive as it got. You, as someone living off the salary of a housekeeper, had no business occupying the same spaces as the wealthiest socialites in the entire country.
You kept your phone out to give him the answer he awaited. You typed in his newly given number and even made a contact for him in your phone. You had a feeling this wouldn’t be the only time you’d message him. For practical reasons, of course—or so you told yourself. You reasoned that you might need to text him to let him know once you’ve arrived at the destination. Moving forward with the text message, you typed in the three-letter word that opened the door to your first outing in a long time. You had many questions on your mind but none of them made you want to text the sweet man “no.”
After confirming your willingness to go, you were left with the most pressing question of all.
“What will I even wear?”
Alone, nervous, but excited, you walked up the hill under the night sky. You saw the gate of the park coming into your vision. You felt the light wind swirl around you, giving your hair a refreshing tousle as you made your way up. Late that afternoon, you scoured your small closet for something appropriate. You knew it’d be nighttime and currently, it was the middle of July. To dress properly for both the hot summer air and the chance of a moonlit breeze, you wore a sundress and a cardigan. When you came across it in your closet, it was shoved all the way in the corner. You hadn’t worn this dress in years—not that you had much of a reason to. Your weekends were filled with grocery shopping and other humdrum errands. Who knew that you’d be in it again. It was perfect.
You had no car of your own to drive, but luckily it wasn’t too out of bounds. It was just 10 minutes away from the hotel. This allowed you to follow your usual daily commute for the better portion of your journey. You rounded the corner, just about to face the park, and spotted a single grey Porsche parked on the side of the street. You were about to walk past it when suddenly, its driver’s side door opened. Out stepped Baekhyun.
He wore a smile as he shut the door. He even began to greet you with a gentle, “Hi.” But upon giving you a better look as you approached him, the word that should have exited his ajar mouth never did and he stood there in a stare.
“Hi, Baekhyun.” You spoke first.
He closed his mouth and cleared his throat. “Hi! Um, I’m really happy to see you.” He stumbled over his words a bit, nervously scratching the back of his head.
Where was that diamond-plated sense of confidence he always had? You wondered. You chuckled at his cuteness, nonetheless.
“I’m sorry, you just look really beautiful.” He confessed, “I mean, you always do. Even in your uniform at the hotel. But, seeing you out of it, you, you look great.”
You hoped the foundation you wore was opaque enough to hide the natural blush that he always had a knack of giving you.
He finally walked over to your side and took your hand.
“Follow me.” He led you deeper into the park’s premises, to the farthest end towards the city.
Your hand felt so small wrapped within his larger one. It was warm and soft—just like the other day while you two looked at the scarves. You reflected on how much of a whirlwind your relationship is. This all happened so quickly. Too bad that in another two weeks, it will end just as fast. Baekhyun will no longer be in your care. You would no longer have a reason to see him. The month would be over and you’d be on to your next assignment. You looked down as you were in your thoughts. But him stopping in his tracks took you out of them. You looked up from the concrete beneath your feet to see the vast view of all of Seoul. The skyscrapers were brightly lit, and the water of the Han River glimmered as it reflected the lights of the bridge above.
You covered your mouth with your hand in awe at the beautiful city lights that decorated your sight. “This is amazing,” you said with glee.
“I’m glad you like it,” he returned an equal smile. “This is my favorite spot in all of UN Village.”
“Thank you for showing me.”
You two stood, enjoying the summer air and the illuminated cityscape. It was peaceful just being beside him and enjoying nature.
“Can I ask you a question?” You posed, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Of course.”
“Is this a date?” It came out your mouth timidly.
Baekhyun looked away for a moment. His eyes shifted left and right as concerns flooded his head.
“Does it not feel like one? I’m sorry! I just couldn’t make any reservations in time since I decided on this pretty last minute, and my schedule is tight. There aren’t many places I can go without being noticed as well so I—” You cut off his rambling with a kiss on the cheek. Now it was his turn to blush.
“I love it Baekhyun, I just... wanted to be sure. I’m still not sure, actually. I believe you but it still just doesn’t make any sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense?”
“Well,” you thought for a moment about how to explain yourself. You pondered what the right words were to express the mental turmoil you had been experiencing these past couple of weeks. You wouldn’t have to think long, though, because he vocalized it for you.
“What? Me being interested in someone that’s older than me?” He looked to you with raised eyebrows.
You nodded, looking to him for the answer that you were desperately curious about.
“I don’t really have anything to say to that. I just am.” He spoke with a straight face.
“Well wouldn’t you be interested in someone that is as famous and has money, like yourself?” It all felt a bit foolish. This connection between you two was real but at the same time not very grounded in reality.
“I don’t need someone with money, trust me, I have enough of my own.”
“Baekhyun, that’s not what I meant. I just—”
He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the left of his chest. You felt how warm he was from over the cotton of his shirt. Not only warmth did you feel. The steady beat of a vital organ pulsed onto your hand.
He pointedly looked into your eyes as he spoke.
“Listen to me. All I need is someone who I enjoy spending time with. You are that person. All I need is someone that I love making happy, that I love to make smile. You are that person. And my goodness, don’t you dare ever question my attraction to you again because you have no idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself when I’m around you. I want you.”
You gazed at him in wonder. Speechless from his heartfelt confessional.
“I want you because I want you. You are enough and will always be enough. You know why?" He moved closer to you, taking a hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I don’t feel alone when I’m with you. I'm around so many people day in and day out, yet you were the only one who made me feel like I was more than my job.”
He made his feelings known and he kissed you. His lips pressing softly onto yours as he pressed you against the banister behind you. You had nowhere to go but to accept his passion and release your own that you had been smothering. You kissed back. Eager. Your arms flew up onto his shoulders and pulled him even closer. His tongue prodded at your lips to which you gladly accepted. The kiss deepened; your waist was gripped tightly in his grasp. The fabric of your dress was thin; only a slim layer separated you from his hot touch.
You were on fire already. He detached his lips from yours, taking heavy breaths. It didn’t take long for his lips to return. This time, on your neck. You threaded his hair through your fingertips and gave a slight, pleasurable tug on the tufts of hair. His lips latched hungrily onto the sensitive skin, feigning for your moans. You felt him smirk against you whenever he earned a whimper.
The wind assisted in revealing the skin of your décolletage—the air blew your cardigan back. Your skin was showcased beautifully, kissed by the moonlight. Baekhyun took advantage, making sure to trail the assaults to your skin down to the swell of your chest. At the top of your bosom, he pulled back to admire you and your new marks. Your chest heaved up and down, catching your breath from the intimate contact. His eyes were lustful and locked onto your covered breasts. The thin fabric did nothing to conceal your pert nipples that were behind it. His hands wanted to raise from your sides to cup your breasts into his own hands. But instead, he dropped them and let go. The will of restraint came over him.
“I’m sorry, I got a little carried away.”
You giggled, breathless, but happy. “I didn’t mind.”
He cradled your face in his hand and stroked a thumb across your cheek.
“Thank you for meeting me here. Thank you for listening to me.” He spoke honestly and tucked hair behind your ear. The corners of your mouth pulled up for the umpteenth time that night.
“There’s that smile. That’s what I’m here for,” he said satisfied.
Your lips made room for a full, toothy smile. You playfully hit his chest.
“Well, thank you for sharing this with me. This place and this moment. It means a lot.”
You two walked hand in hand away from the park.
“Did you walk here?”
“Yeah, from the bus stop near the hotel.”
“Is it okay if I drive you home?”
You gave a nod and followed him to his car. He opened the passenger side door for you, and you got comfortable in the pristine leather seats. It still had that new car smell and the interior was impressive with blue mood lighting along the dashboard. Wow was all you could think.
After putting your address in the GPS, you two were on your way. Somewhere along the journey, his hand took a rest on your thigh as he got comfortable into the route. Of course it felt sexy, but it also felt securing and protective. Baekhyun was so many things at once and if you were going to survive, you were going to have to get used to it.
Eventually, the drive came to an end and Baekhyun walked you to your door. He didn’t let you go without a final, sweet, parting kiss. Your legs felt like Jello. The whole night had been so simple yet so romantic; exactly what you needed as a first date after being single for so long. He made you feel comfortable.
Once you got inside, you rested against the door with giddiness that had still not worn away. You were certain were not going to get much sleep.
It was the start of a new week after the glorious weekend you had. Mondays weren’t always chipper, but you had renewed energy in your step. It only got better when you opened the door of your apartment to leave and found a surprise waiting at your feet.
A bouquet of 50 red roses in a glass vase sat on the concrete. A note was slid into the base that read, “I had a lovely time on Saturday. Hope you like them. - B.”
It goes without saying that you made it to work with a smile on your face. After fixing your beloved neck scarf in place, you even took the time to put on some lipstick. Right in the middle of your application of the creamy cosmetic, Gloria greeted you, bearing not so exciting news.
“Ready for the annual training orientation?” She asked rhetorically, equally as displeased.
“God. It’s already that time of year again?”
There it was. Annual training orientation day—mandatory for all staff. It was in the company’s policy that everyone completes an annual in-service to refresh them on their knowledge of the protocol and how to handle emergency situations. This was all important, practical stuff; just not what you had in mind for the day. Technically, it was just two hours long, but it always held up the entire shift, making you busier than usual later on. All services were on hold for the first two hours while everyone was in the training and all guests at the hotel were usually notified by notices placed on their door.
You and Gloria both sighed and headed to the conference room to get the training session over with.
“Whatever you do, don’t yawn. I did that last year and Ms. Park looked like she wanted to kill me,” Gloria joked.
The orientation began and you did your best to at least look like you were in tune to what was being said. Nothing is new, it’s been the same procedure every year and this was over your tenth time sitting through it. Gloria looks around the conference to see if she could spot where your boss was, alas, Ms. Park was nowhere to be seen.
The lecturer, after expressing gratitude for the employees’ attendance, announced, “Sadly, Housekeeping and Lifestyle Director Ms. Park could not make it to the session today, but I’m sure she has trust in all of her employees to take in the information well.”
You and Gloria exchanged mischievous looks as you both plotted a plan to escape the snooze-fest of an orientation. There was no one to stop you, even if they caught you sneaking out.
After the lecturer was turned around to advance the slides on the projector screen, you both took the chance. You joined Gloria in quietly jogging out of the room, incontrollable giggles escaped you in the childish act.
“Wow, I can’t believe you actually ditched that with me,” Gloria to you said proudly.
You’re equally shocked at your own actions. You laughed along while grabbing your cart to sneak away and do your usual duties for Baekhyun. It hit you then. Would you really have done that before Baekhyun?
+++
That Monday morning for Baekhyun went differently. When he came back from his 8 a.m. run and saw the notice on his door about kitchen and housekeeping services being paused until the afternoon to accommodate annual training measures, he was disheartened. A pout adorned his sweaty face. No new towels—not that he needed them yet, no fresh bedding—didn't need that either, and no you—something he absolutely needed. Though he still had the opportunity to see you later, it felt like every hour, every minute counted. He wouldn’t be staying at the hotel forever; he wanted to take advantage of every given opportunity to be around you.
He made his way into his suite with a sigh but went on with his routine. He showered and found himself back in bed, bored out of his mind. He didn’t have the kitchen staff available to entertain him with a meal either. Baekhyun was alone. He even turned on rain sounds through his speaker in an effort to make himself sleepy and take an unneeded nap, though it was no use. He tossed and turned; sleep wouldn’t take him. He finally lay on his back and looked up at the ceiling. Though he didn’t have much to do, there was still lots to think about.
Specifically, thoughts of you painted his mind. He wished he could have seen your face when you saw the flowers that morning. He hoped he made you happy. You certainly made him happy. Next, flashbacks of Saturday night appeared behind his closed eyes. The wind through your hair, your infectious smile and tantalizing gaze. But most of all, the kiss. That amazingly captivating kiss you two shared that he needed pull back from or else. Baekhyun thought about your lips, your tongue, and recalled what he did with his own mouth, to you. He wondered if those love bites he left would still be visible on your skin. And what a dangerous thought that was, it only made him want to see you more. He was frustrated and without relief. Before he knew it, an erection pressed against the top of pants.
Usually, he staved off any solo sessions unless he was in the shower. He never liked having the do not disturb sign on the door because he never wanted to miss any of your visits. But that also meant that freely being exposed at any random time during the day was off-limits.
That morning, too, there was no do not disturb sign on the handle, but did that matter? Baekhyun pondered the situation at hand. There would be at least two more hours that you were away attending the training orientation. He couldn’t request you to be there even if he wanted to. This was a guaranteed two hours of no visitors.
His hand slowly drifted to his crotch to palm at the growing bulge. With the reassurance he gave himself that no one would enter, he continued to let his thoughts run wild.
He thought about the way your breasts looked in the dress you wore that so perfectly draped over your curves.
He thought about the swell of your breasts and how he wished he kept taking his bites lower and lower.
Then, your waist that fit so nicely in his grasp.
It was all a little too much and he finally decided to take himself out. With his eyes closed and his mind projecting the teasing mental images he took of you that night, he surrendered to the growing hunger that you gave him.
+++
You pushed your cart down the hallway to Baekhyun’s suite, still fueled by the excitement of your great escape. You met his door and saw that unlike the others, his no longer had a notice on it. “He must have gotten the word,” you said to yourself. This meant he wasn’t expecting you at all, but you were more than happy to give him a surprise. All you wanted in this moment was to see him.
With that, you delayed no further and went ahead opening the door. Immediately, you were met with the sound of...rain. Strange, you thought. You quickly peered out the windows across the space and saw that it was as sunny as it was when you left the house is morning. You pieced together that he must be playing those sounds himself. So, where is the man in question? You didn’t see him in the open concept kitchen and living room space that you were in. You softly walked towards the bedroom and gradually, the sound of the pitter-pattering rain got louder and louder. Your detective hat could be put away now since you figured he was playing those rain sounds to help him fall asleep. You’ve had nights like that yourself; a little audio aid doesn’t hurt. Of course, it was the morning, but knowing his schedule, it was totally plausible that he was up all night practicing or preparing for something as he usually was.
You pouted a bit at the circumstances. You went out of your way, committed a scandalous act that broke the company’s policy (though you knew there were no real concerns about it), and it seemed all for nought. He was definitely asleep and you definitely didn’t want to wake him up from his precious time of rest. He deserved it.
You were about to leave but decided to get one peek at him before you went. You could still get your wish to see him—even if you couldn’t interact with him. Since the bedroom door was open, it wouldn’t be too difficult to get an innocent peek at his sleeping face.
You made your way to the bedroom from the left, careful to not make too much noise and disturb his sleep. You rested a hand on a mounted shelf on the wall and leaned over to the right to get your coveted peek at him.
Nothing could have prepared you for what you witnessed. You gasped deeply at the sight.
You got your wish. You got to see him. That’s for sure.
Except, nothing was innocent about this sight.
It was wrong. You knew it was wrong to stay and look, but you couldn’t keep your eyes away. You stood there and watched. You watched his hand slide up and down is attentive cock that you had only imagined until this point. What you fantasized it to be was trumped by the real sight of it. You saw him throw his head backward with his mouth ajar. He mouthed silent curses as he worked himself with his eyes closed. Whatever it was that was driving his actions was all in his head. Just then, if you weren’t mistaken, you could have sworn your name left his lips. Your eyes had open even wider. Once more, the unmistakable sound of each syllable of your name fell out of his mouth as he grunted in pleasure.
You staggered in place and the hand that had rested on the mounted shelf moved a bit too much, causing you to knock over a book. It fell to the floor with a thud.
Shit.
Baekhyun immediately halted his movements and whipped his head in your direction. You jumped out of view of the bedroom, knowing for certain that had alerted him of your presence. Rather than fully retreat, you decided to stay by the doorway, and to just keep still and quiet. You told yourself it was best that way—totally not because you were making an excuse to continue watching him, of course.
Baekhyun indeed noted the sound and your attempts at stealth were in vain. He knew good and well that he was not alone. The corner of his mouth pulled up for a moment, but he thought it’d be best to keep a straight face for his next actions. Baekhyun felt like a pervert but couldn’t deny himself the opportunity to toy with you. At first, he just continued pleasuring himself as he had been, except this time, he made sure to let out any and all explicit moans and groans that naturally came about.
With no reserve, he audibly expressed his pleasure with each stroke. He audibly expressed the object of his lust as well. Your name, candy-coated in desire, dripped from his lips within the mix of “ah’s” and “oh’s.” The shock and shame you felt began to twist into something more enjoyable. You let out a deep breath, happy that it appeared you didn’t completely blow your cover. Indisputably, you were a voyeur in this scenario. A voyeur who couldn’t help but get wet at what she gazed upon. You bit your lip as you felt warmth begin to stir within you.
Baekhyun had enough of putting on a show on his own; he wanted a special audience member to join his play.
While continuing his movements, he spoke out confidently, “You know, it’s rude to stare.”
You panicked and frantically made the moves to leave after being caught. You took steps back to remove yourself from the room, from this scene that you only meant to witness and not participate in—to the hallway, to the safety of your cart, to the comfort of solitude. Baekhyun caught wind of this, hearing your feet shuffle away on the marble floor.
He warned you, “Don't try to leave. You have to stay. If you don't,” he stressed his last words, “I’ll report you.”
You knew Baekhyun would never put you in such a dangerous situation. Rather than a threat, it was permission to surrender. All you wanted, all you needed, was a reason. A reason to keep you there with him—and you got it. Your steps had ceased, feet no longer helping you escape your own desire—nor his.
“Good girl,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Now come here.”
The low, stony tone of his voice made you melt.
Your mind swarmed with possibilities. What does he want with me?
“Are you really going to make me wait?” He urged you to come to him.
You made hesitant steps closer and closer to the entry of his bedroom.
“Baekhyun, please, I apologize, I only came to bring you more linens,” you spoke as you entered, not meeting his eyes. You looked everywhere else in that beautiful penthouse bedroom besides the man who occupied it. He was sitting up on the side of the bed. At least, at this point he had put himself away. You felt both grateful and disappointed.
“Oh, is that so?” He paused, enjoying your timid appearance. “Shouldn’t you be at the training orientation? I saw a notice on my door this morning. You shouldn’t even be here, should you?”
He was absolutely right. There was no reason for you to be there. There was no excuse but your own selfish desire to see him. Your guilty form remained silent.
“In fact,” he continued, “didn’t the announcement say it was mandatory?” His words with his gaze bore a hole in you. “Why aren’t you there?”
You looked up at the ceiling for the universe to bless you with an answer to salvage your dignity. Alas, none appeared. He patted his thigh for you to sit.
“Come here.” You obeyed without protest, slowly lowering yourself down onto his lap. If you moved too far to the right, you could feel his still-active erection against your bottom.
He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and you closed your eyes. You loved his touch, no matter how simple. His hand lingered on your hair, softly smoothing it in a petting motion as he continued his interrogation.
“So, tell me, why are you here?”
Your eyes were shifty but forced to focus once he took a finger under your chin to turn you towards him. For the first time that morning, you faced Baekhyun. You looked at his features that were just twisted in bliss some moments ago.
“Because I wanted to see you.” You answered honestly with shame.
He smiled a full grin. “You missed me so much you broke the rules, huh? I’m honored, Ms. Professionalism,” he said cheekily.
You smiled as you looked down at your hands. Things have changed.
He admired you for a moment, taking in your lipstick and beloved scarf.
“How could I have let you go out that door? Especially not when you made yourself so pretty today.” His thumb stroked your bottom lip. “Did you put this on for me?”
You nodded wordlessly and the look of lust re-darkened his face as he stared at your lips.
“Did you like what you saw, you know, as you were waiting to... give me more linens?”
Your head went up and down again as you looked into his eyes, hanging onto every word. His hand took a hold of your side, pulling you closer into him.
“What is it that you used to call me before I told you to call me by my first name?”
“Umm,” you hesitated because, is the answer to his question really that simple? You only ever remembered calling him by his last name before that.
He tightened his grip on your waist and latched his teeth to your lobe, giving a teasing bite to the tiny bit of flesh. You couldn’t help your labored breaths, nor the whine that escaped once you felt his tongue graze that same spot.
He whispered, “What. Did. You. Call. Me?” Each word articulated directly into your ear, accompanied by the soft puffs of his warm breath added fuel to the fire that blazed in your hot core.
“Mr. Byun.”
He gave a cold chuckle. “Good girl,” he praised. You whimpered at the pet name. You relished the approval. There he was, younger yet in command. A guest in your expert, seasoned care, yet so easily, he had you wrapped around his finger.
You were more than turned on by this new side of him, but really, it’s not out of nowhere. Though Mr. Byun is typically bubbly and lighthearted, Mr. Byun had always done what he wanted, taken what he wanted—ever since that champagne you shared. His current grip on you said no different.
Soon though, you were free.
Baekhyun let go and told you to stand up. He requested with waiting eyes, “Undress for me.”
You hadn’t done anything in years. You’d been single and busy; there were little opportunities to make meaningful connections here at your job. So, when you were told to step out of your uniform, out of your perfectly tailored daily armor, to be subject to this wealthy, younger man’s gaze who is probably used to fitter, tighter bodies, you shrunk back.
Baekhyun could sense the type of thoughts that swarmed in your head. He saw your hand drop from the zipper it was holding—just about to unzip your skirt—to instead clasp your other hand in front of yourself.
“You’re beautiful,” he said before standing up to hold your face in his hands. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I like everything about you.” He backed you up to the bed and laid you onto the plush covers. He found space to join you in between your legs. “Can I show you just how much?” He ended the question with a kiss on your cheek as he hovered you. He cleared away your face once more tucking hair behind your ear. You shivered at the sensation, quickly becoming reminded just how sensitive your ears were. He acknowledged your reaction and rubbed along the contour of your ear, making your eyes flutter close. He grinned in fascination before rejoining his lips with yours. He craved learning everything about you, including your erogenous zones.
Staring down at your needy form beneath him, he knew how badly you wanted this. Still, your nerves were evident and loud. Baekhyun wanted to help you relax.
The first thing he removed from you was your neck scarf. He quickly examined its length and looked satisfied. You cocked an eyebrow in curiosity.
“If you can’t stand to see me,” Baekhyun began while holding the neck scarf over your eyes and making a knot at the back of your head, “...just feel me.”
He crashed his lips onto yours, drawing a suppressed moan from your needy lips. You whimpered at the sudden warmth. All you had wanted to do since your date was feel his lips again. Finally. Open-mouthed kisses trailed to your neck; he replaced Saturday’s faded bruises with fresh ones. With each kiss he pressed against your skin, your insecurity melted away. With each moan you gave, his concern dissipated. Visions of red clouded his view.
He wanted you. Mr. Byun wanted you and you wanted him and maybe that was enough.
He unfastened the buttons of your blouse and the back of your bra. Your breasts were cupped and kneaded. Your moans intensified as he gave each of your nipples a kiss. His hands lowered to your hips, and he hiked up the fabric of your skirt to expose your undergarments. Feeling along the length of your leg, he took in the smooth texture of your stockings. His eyes drifted up to your garter that held everything in place.
“Fuck,” he breathed out. The garments framed your legs so well, in such a sexy way. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to see these up close.”
He descended to your feet and removed each of your shoes. Your loafers hit the floor with weight. Kisses were placed at the top your foot and one by one, traveled up your leg. The pure intimacy made you squirm. He reached your thigh and unclipped the straps of your garter before hooking a finger into the side of your panties and sliding them down.
You sucked in a breath, your wet heat exposed to the air.
“Oh baby, looks like you want this just as bad as I do,” he said assured as he observed the glistening wetness of your entrance.
“Yes,” you whined.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mr. Byun.”
He was holding your face again. In your world of darkness, you felt his palm on the side of your cheek. This time, though, he prodded his thumb at your lips. You accepted it, swirling your tongue around the digit before softly sucking. You couldn’t see, but Baekhyun’s eyes rolled back, barely able to withstand his cock that ached in his pants—still untouched since you entered the room.
He slid it out of your lips and brought it down to your clit. His lubricated thumb easily rubbed tight circles onto your bud. You wriggled beneath his touch, forcing him to hold your hips down in place. He hooked his arms from under your bent legs and sunk down into the bed. He faced your cunt directly to get a taste.
You felt the intense unexpected warmth of his tongue slide along your pussy as he continued to massage your clit. You gasped and grabbed a fistful of his hair. Your blindfolded state left you perpetually in wonder of what would come next.
Baekhyun moaned at your taste and the feel of your grip on him. “You taste so good,” he exhaled. His licks were accompanied by occasional plunges of his tongue inside of you that made your back arch. Your moans and trembles eventually gave notice of your closeness to the edge. The edge that he wasn’t ready for you to fall off of yet. He removed his mouth much to your dismay.
You whined in protest.
“Shhh, baby. I’ll give you something even better.”
You bit your lip in anticipation as you heard him remove clothing and toss it to the floor.
Just then, you felt something warm and firm probe your entrance teasingly. You opened your legs wider, knowing it was his cock that you had waited so long to feel. His cock that you had fantasized about so many nights and now, he wields it to taunt you.
Baekhyun looked down at his tip getting coated in your arousal, wanting more, wanting to feel you completely, yet having too much fun making you squirm.
“Say please,” he demanded with unwavering authority.
Your bottom lip quivered before muttering a soft, “Please.”
He slid his cock up and down your slit, still not entering you, still not satisfied with your plea.
“Mr. Byun. Please. Mr. Byun, fuck me right now. Please just—”
He stole your words with the long-awaited sensation of his shaft penetrating your folds. You let out a loud cry instead. You thanked god he was the only guest on this floor. The quick snaps of his hips drew out lengthy moans as you grabbed onto his shoulders to ground yourself. It had been so long since you had someone in you, and your fingers just didn’t compare. He stretched you out so deliciously, you couldn’t help the endless moans that escaped.
Baekhyun released groans of his own. He couldn’t believe how perfectly warm and wet you felt wrapped around him. Looking down at you and your bouncing breasts that jostled with each of his thrusts was almost too much. He fucked you without mercy.
Your legs shook around him as the pleasure coursed through you. You saw sparks within your self-contained darkness. Taking away your sight heightened your other senses. You felt each time Baekhyun tightened his hold on your waist. You tasted the remnants of coffee on his breath you kissed in the midst of your feverish romp. You heard each of his desperate pants as his thrusts became sloppier.
You were no better, beginning to rake your nails down his back from the intensity of his carnal desire. It began to feel overwhelming. You were coming to your peak.
He rabidly tore the makeshift blindfold off of you. Baekhyun lost it, seeing your eyes, the full fucked-out expression on your face that he gave you. Your eyes welled up with tears until you closed them from pleasure, spilling them onto your blushed cheeks.
“Mr. Byun, I-I...” You attempted to announce your orgasm, but coherent thought was impossible.
“Baekhyun is here baby, it’s ok. Let go for me,” he coaxed, smoothing his thumb across your cheek as he held your precious face.
With a scream of his name, you felt yourself come undone. Your body shuddered beneath him.
Baekhyun leaned down to plant one last love bite onto your well-decorated neck as he groaned darkly into your ear. He pulled away to look at your face. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, languid and recovering from your climax.
Reaching a hand up to thread your fingers through his hair and giving those soft tugs he loved so much, you said, “Baekhyun, baby, come for me.” It came out soft but irresistible to his ears.
His hips stuttered in their movement, and he quickly pulled out of you. He barely gave himself an additional stroke before spraying his cum all over you. He coated both your skin and your treasured undergarments.
Panting, Baekhyun looked down at you, his freshly painted masterpiece. You looked so pretty covered in the evidence of his attraction. An exhausted but satisfied smirk spread on his face and he dipped down to give you a kiss.
“I’ll get you cleaned up.” He jogged over to the bathroom and you heard the water run as your eyes closed for a moment. You opened them again upon feeling a warm cloth. He wiped your limp body clean with a damp washcloth before discarding it in the hamper and joining you in bed.
Baekhyun claimed a spot next to you and shifted his position to a rather adorable one. He put his head in your lap and looked up at you. He took your hand and placed it on his head, hoping for you to pet his head. You entertained it, giving him the tiny repetitive touches that let him know that you appreciate him.
The room fell quiet except for the sounds of rain that continued to play through his speakers. Though the rain sounds hadn’t been working as an effective sleep aid before, they surely were beginning to for the both of you in the post-orgasmic bliss.
His eyes fell closed as your thighs supported his head and your hand ceased its motions. With a voice soaked in sleepiness, he asked you one more thing before you both dozed off.
“Did you like the flowers?”
Until the month’s end, you and Baekhyun continued your fun when you could. Secret, satisfying, and sacred was your connection. Do all good things have to come to an end? That’s what you wondered this morning. The 31st of the month. The ticking timebomb that your relationship was, was soon to explode and leave nothing behind.
You dressed in your uniform and tied the scarf around your neck. Will you continue to wear it after he leaves? The smile you wore out the double-doors when beginning your shift that you donned lately had a struggle appearing today. You felt anxious. Afraid that all the good you felt this past month would be gone. And that he would move on, away from the hotel, into his freshly renovated new penthouse, and never think about you again. You knew he cared for you, but to what extent? Your daily obligation to see each other would no longer exist and Baekhyun was a very busy man.
You arrived to his suite and before you could even knock, the door opened before you. Baekhyun held a box of his things in his hands. You looked behind him and saw that the suite was stripped of any and all traces of him. Held in his hands was the last of his things. Your chest felt tight.
“Hi...” Baekhyun trailed out. “I was hoping to catch you on my way out. Even if I didn’t, I’d come to find you.” Baekhyun was upset that his hands were preoccupied. He wanted nothing more than to pull you in for a hug. Instead, he just held a solemn expression on his face.
“Well, here I am,” you gave a half-smile.
“I have to get to my house to meet with the designer and move my stuff back in,” he said regretfully.
“Yes of course.” You stepped out of his way so that he could exit. You kept wishing for him to say he’d see you later, for him to tell you to meet him somewhere—but it never came. Is this it?
“Will you walk me out?”
You sighed, leaving your cart parked at his door to follow the man out the hotel doors, out of your care, out of your life. The valet brought his car to the front; your eyes laid upon the gray Porsche you got to know some nights ago. It’d be leaving without you in it. Baekhyun opened the trunk to put in his items and came back around to the front. By the driver's side door, he stood in front of you. You stared back at each other wistfully. A thousand words unspoken, a thousand memories shared, a thousand secrets kept. The quiet was suffocating but necessary. You were reminded of such when the valet attendant entered your view.
“Sir, your keys.”
It snapped Baekhyun out of his daze. He reached for the keys and thanked the man. Once he turned back to you, he didn’t get the one last look of your face he was hoping to get. It was only the top of your head.
You bowed deeply. You couldn’t bear to see him leave. You couldn’t risk the attendant seeing your emotions. With the view of Baekhyun’s shoes becoming blurry from the incoming tears pricking your eyes, you bid your farewell.
“Goodbye, Mr. Byun.”
Without looking back, you turned around to return to your cage. You passed through the ever-cycling revolving doors. You, yourself, were right back where you started.
You got back to his suite. Shedding never-ending tears, you grabbed the used towels in the bathroom.
But what else was there to do? He went on with his life, and you had to go on with yours. This was your life. Cleaning rooms of rich guests that saw you as their servant was your life. Did Baekhyun see you the same way? Were you just something to entertain him while he was away from his real home, from his real life? He didn’t say much this morning. Nothing that indicated that he wanted to stay in a relationship. Nothing that indicated he wanted to keep you around.
At least you had the last word. You weren’t going pry. You weren’t going to beg. You refused to look like an idiot chasing after someone that was never yours. You ended things—cleanly, professionally, with dignity and respect. As you always did. And you would continue to be the respectable housekeeper that you always were—before and after him.
So, there you were cleaning the bathroom, once more. You willed yourself to stop crying. Getting up on the counter just as you had 30 days ago. And instead of feeling sorry for being late, you felt sorry for feeling sorry all those days ago. If you weren’t so hell bent on making it up to him by cleaning passionately back then, maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation now.
You looked at yourself in that oversized bathroom mirror. You were a changed woman. Though he was no longer there, he was written all over you. And unfortunately, you liked yourself more this way.
You exited the bathroom to strip the bed of all its sheets. The bed that you laid in next to him. The bed that bared witness to your unforgettable intimacy.
It felt cruel.
You moved the pillows, and upon doing so, it made your previous efforts to stop your tears pointless. You broke down after discovering one last gift.
Under the pillow was a plain red silk scarf. Next to it was a note that read, simply,
We will meet again. - B
+++
He ran circles in his mind as he drove home. Baekhyun didn’t know what to say. He had your number, but he didn’t know what to do. He knew, that if anything was going to happen, it had to be him that did something. The ball was in his court and he was choking in the last minutes of the game. Ultimately, he knew he had to tell you what had been on his mind. The thing that kept him from promising to see you again. How could he claim you as his and then leave for half a year?
Indeed, Baekhyun had a tour beginning in three days. It was something he still hadn’t told you because he wanted to ignore the reality of it himself. He was excited to meet and perform in front of his fans all over the world, but he was not excited to be without you. The truth was now looking him in the face and driving a wedge between you to. He had to talk to you. No matter what your answer was, he had to let you know that he still cared.
Parked in his driveway, he called you. It rang just once.
Baekhyun greeted you with a shaky hello, but you cut him off quickly.
“I have work, I’m sorry. I cannot talk to you right now.”
You ended the call and returned to your reflection. There was no way you could speak to him and get through the end of your shift. If you heard his voice again, the tears would come back.
He knew you were upset, understandably. He even caught the crack in your voice from when you said goodbye. He decided not to attempt to contact you again. He wondered if it was even right to given the circumstances. If you were doing the work to get over him and close the door behind what you two shared, who was he to rip those hinges off? He didn’t want to toy with your heart. Why make you go through that, just to leave you again in a few days for an even longer amount of time?
He went into his house with his box of belongings, preparing himself for his new surroundings. The designer was present and happily walked Baekhyun through the rooms, pointing out all the new elements. Baekhyun appreciated the excellent craftsmanship of the renovations, greatly impressed. The designer left and it was once again, him alone. He looked around at the walls; they were now decorated with framed artworks. One of them was a painting of interlocked hands. He turned away, feeling as if it was mocking him.
He went to his bedroom and began packing his suitcase for his upcoming departure. He needed to fill his time with something to do, as filling the walls clearly wasn’t enough. It was all as he envisioned it to be, yet the goal was not achieved. Now his penthouse looked like a home, but it didn’t feel like one. He felt unsatisfied. And in the middle of folding one of his t-shirts, he realized that the only time he hadn’t been unsatisfied was in fact when he wasn’t in a home of his own at all—it was when he was with you.
It wasn't new aesthetics that his place needed. It wasn't new items to artificially create coziness that he needed. It was a matter, not of objects, not of things, but of connection. He needed a someone, not a something, to make his house a home. He knew who he needed.
A sentence of three words floated in his mind, and he was compelled to tell you. But not yet, he told himself to wait for tonight. And he’d do it in a way that didn’t allow you to shut him out so quickly. He knew it was selfish. His responsibilities in the next few days remained the same. But now, he just didn’t have the heart to leave without telling you how he felt.
+++
It was 9 p.m. and you just got out of your shower, hair damp and in pajamas. You sat on your loveseat in front of your small TV, shuffling through the channels to find something—anything to watch to stop thinking about him. He didn’t even try to call me back again, you thought. But you remembered the scarf. Really, it was the note. “We will meet again,” it said. You scoffed. Through the damn TV screen, I guess. You hated that the message was so vague. Vague enough for him to never make do on his words. Why didn’t he specifically ask for another date? Anything with a time and place would do.
You were knocked out of your thoughts with a string of knocks on your door. You looked through the glass viewing hole on your door. It’s him, of course. And in his hands, he held a single rose and a gift box. You hesitated, hand on the handle, but not yet turning it.
“I’m not leaving until you open this door. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to say it to me.”
Begrudgingly, you turned the handle and revealed yourself to your guest.
“I love you.”
His words hung in the air, heavy as the duvets you folded. Air thick as the hotel’s pillows. You stared back at him in astonishment.
He took a step closer to you. “Listen, I have a tour. I’ll be gone for six months. I’m sorry I didn’t say much this morning. I just didn’t know how to tell you. And I don’t expect you to wait around for me either, so I didn’t want to put you in a weird position.”
You took in his words, still not giving any of your own yet. Truth be told, you understood him. You felt yourself withdraw your resentment.
He continued, “Do you know why I was staying at the hotel for a month?”
“Well, weren't you getting renovations done?”
“Yes. Do you know why?”
You shook your head no.
“Because I wanted my house to feel more like a home.”
You beckoned, "So... do you like the changes?”
“Sure. My house is really beautiful actually,” he chuckled.
You rolled your eyes, “Well good for you,” you said about to shut the door until he caught it with his hand.
“But,” he looked into your eyes, “It didn’t give me what I was looking for. I was a fool, thinking that filling it with things would make me feel less... lonesome.”
He handed you the rose and gift box he held, and you placed them to the side. You decided to invite him in, wordlessly signaling him to your couch with a gesture of your hand.
He sat next to you as you looked pensively at your hands.
“Please say something,” he asked desperately.
“So, the renovations were a waste of time and money then,” you remarked.
“No.” He held your hands in his. “It brought me to you.”
He earned a smile from you. He kissed your hand.
“Well, I just wanted to tell you this. That you are my home, and if you let me, I can’t wait to come back to you when everything is over.”
You gave a nod of reassurance, “I’ll be here.”
He stood up and reached into his pocket for one last offering. He handed you a key, placing it in your palm. “This is a spare to my place. You can come see it yourself... or you can stay in it too... if you want to of course,” he said nervously, scratching the back of his head. “I mean of course you have our own place—that I’m standing in right now—and it’s nice! But just in case you want a change of scenery or want to keep my house warm—”
You cut him off with a kiss and a sweet smile that let him know there was no need to be nervous.
“I’ll think about it,” you said cheekily. “Are you going to make me clean it?”
You both chuckled and you walked him to the door.
“Baekhyun?” You asked biting your lip.
“Yes?” He looked on in curiosity.
“I love you too.”
It rushed out your mouth and you just barely caught his smile before quickly shutting the door from your own nerves. You were glad you got it out. Though it wasn’t your smoothest moment, he heard you, he felt the same—and that was all that mattered. You rested your back against the wooden door with a hazy daze. The gift box you placed to the side caught your eye.
You opened it up and laid your eyes upon his parting gift to you: looking at the label, it was Hermes’ Ivresse Au Vent scarf 70. Another silk scarf, this time of a pastel palette showing horses running in nature. Once again, he left a note. You read it, hearing it so clearly in his voice.
Like the horses, we will be free. If you wait for me this little while, I will give you my forever.
— bf!bangchan x fem!reader in which, chan has always been the most patient person you know. well, not when you are such a fucking brat and keeps on pushing all of his buttons, he would unleash his beast, and punish you accordingly.
content warnings: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, brat-taming, spanking, choking, degradtion, heavy bdsm, size kink, brat tamer!bangchan, breathe play, size difference, intense make out session, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
One thing Chan hates the most is when you get obnoxiously snappy with him.
Normally, you're incredibly sweet, cuddly, and clingy whenever you're together. You love pressing yourself against him, stealing kisses, and wrapping your arms around his waist like you never want to let go.
Well that's when you are not on that specific time of the month where your monthly cycle is about to begin and you become all irritated and pissed. Chan always tells you to use your words, to tell him what's bothering you or what you need so he can take care of it. But during these days, you get extra hard-headed and refuse to listen.
That's exactly why you're here right now.
You're kneeling between his spread legs at the foot of the bed. Chan sits tall above you, wearing nothing but a pair of loose gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. His chiseled chest and abs glisten with a light sheen of sweat, rising and falling with every calm breath he takes. Your eyes are locked on the shiny silver cross pendant dangling from his necklace, swaying gently between his pecs.
One of his strong hands is buried in your hair, gripping a tight fistful at the roots. The cold chrome hearts rings on his fingers press into your scalp, sending a delicious sting across your head. With his other hand, he holds the end of his Chrome Hearts belt like a leash, the smooth black leather wrapped snugly around your throat like a collar.
"My eyes are up here, bunny," Chan said, his voice deep and teasing.
He gave the belt a sharp tug, yanking the leather tighter around your throat. The sudden pressure cut off your air for a split second, forcing a choked, needy moan to spill from your lips. Heat instantly flooded your body as your thighs clenched together, your pussy already throbbing from the rough treatment.
Chan leaned forward slightly, looking down at you with dark, amused eyes. His fingers stayed buried in your hair, keeping your head tilted up toward him.
"So... are you ready to talk now?" he asked, his tone low and calm, but carrying a clear warning. "Or is that little attitude of yours still there?"
"Shut up," you snapped, voice still sharp despite the collar and the way your scalp burned. "I do not have an attitude."
Chan let out a low, dangerous chuckle. The sound sent a shiver down your spine.
"Sure you don't bunny." He mused, slowly tilting his head. "You've been biting my head off all day. Snapping at me when I asked if you ate, throwing my hoodie on the floor when I told you to put it away, and now you're talking back with my belt around your pretty little throat."
He gave the leather another firm tug, cutting your air off for a longer second this time. Your eyes widened, a broken whimper slipping out as your hands instinctively flew up to grip his thigh.
When he finally loosened it just enough for you to breathe, you were panting.
"Still wanna keep lying to me?" he asked, voice deceptively soft. "Or are you going to tell me what's actually wrong so I can fix it?"
You knew what he wanted. He wanted you to admit you were irritable because your period was coming. He wanted you to ask for help, to let him take care of you like he always did. But the bratty part of you that always came out during this time refused to back down.
"Nothing's wrong," you hissed, even as tears of frustration and arousal stung your eyes. "Just leave me alone if you're so bothered by me."
Chan's expression darkened.
Wrong answer.
In one smooth motion, he stood up from the bed, towering over you. The belt around your neck pulled you forward until your chest was pressed against his leg. His sweatpants did nothing to hide how hard he already was.
"You want me to leave you alone?" he murmured, voice low and cold. "That's cute."
He loosened the belt from your throat just enough to slide it off, only to immediately wrap the leather around his fist. With the same hand still fisted in your hair, he dragged you up and shoved you face-down onto the bed.
Your cheek hit the sheets as Chan kicked your knees apart, settling behind you. He leaned over your back, lips brushing your ear.
"Since you can't use your words properly," he growled, yanking your hips up so your ass was in the air, "I'll fuck the attitude out of you until you remember how to talk to me."
You felt the blunt head of his cock press against your dripping entrance, sliding through your slick once, twice, teasing you cruelly.
"Last chance, bunny," he warned, voice dark. "Tell me what's wrong... or I'm not letting you cum until you're crying and begging."
You bit your lip hard, still stubborn, still snappy even with your pussy clenching around nothing. Chan clicked his tongue.
"Brat."
Chan didn't give you any time to adjust.
He pulled back almost completely, only to slam back into you with a brutal snap of his hips, ramming his thick cock deep inside your soaked pussy in one punishing thrust. The force made your whole body jolt forward, a sharp cry ripping from your throat.
"F-fuck—!" you gasped, but the sound was immediately cut off as he set a merciless pace.
Chan started ramming into you hard and fast, each thrust deep and aggressive, the wet sound of your pussy taking every inch echoing obscenely in the room. His hips slapped loudly against your ass with every brutal snap.
"That's it," he growled, voice low and rough. "Take my cock like the brat you are."
His hand left the back of your neck only to fist tightly into your hair. He yanked your head back sharply, forcing your back into a deep, painful arch. Your neck strained as he pulled you up, your tits bouncing hard with every violent thrust.
At the same time, he released the belt completely. Before you could even catch your breath, his large hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pressing firmly into your skin. The cold Chrome Hearts rings dug into your neck, the hard metal biting deliciously into your flesh as he squeezed.
Your eyes widened, then started to cross as the intense pleasure mixed with the sudden pressure on your throat. Chan kept ramming into you without mercy, his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you with every savage thrust.
"Ah—ahh—Chan—!" Your voice came out broken and choked.
He tightened his grip on your throat, cutting off your air for a few long, dizzying seconds. Your breathing stopped completely as stars burst behind your eyes. The lack of oxygen made everything sharper, the stretch of his cock, the sting in your scalp, the brutal way he was fucking you.
Your eyes crossed fully, tongue slipping past your lips as your mind started to go blank from the overwhelming mix of pleasure and pressure. A pathetic, gurgling moan vibrated against his palm.
Chan leaned closer, lips brushing your ear while he kept pounding into you relentlessly.
"Look at you," he hissed, voice dark and mocking. "Eyes fluttering like a dumb little slut. All that attitude and now you can't even breathe properly."
He loosened his fingers just enough for you to suck in a desperate, gasping breath, only to squeeze again right after, rings pressing harder into your skin. Your pussy clenched violently around him, gushing slick down your thighs from the heady mix of pain and pleasure.
Chan kept ramming into you with deep, punishing strokes, his hips snapping forward relentlessly. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he fucked you harder, driving his thick cock into your dripping pussy without mercy.
His hand stayed wrapped tight around your throat from behind, the cold Chrome Hearts rings digging harshly into your soft skin with every squeeze. He tugged your hair harder, forcing your back into an even deeper arch, your body bent perfectly for him.
Your eyes were fluttering close, rolling back as the brutal pleasure mixed with the choking pressure. For several long seconds, he cut off your air completely. Your mouth fell open in a silent, desperate cry, teeth sinking on your lower lip slightly as your vision sparkled with white spots. Your pussy clenched violently around his cock, gushing slick down your thighs from the overwhelming sensation.
Just when your head started to feel light and floaty, Chan loosened his grip just enough for you to drag in a ragged, gasping breath.
"Fuuuck— Chan—!" you choked out, voice hoarse and broken.
He immediately tightened his fingers again, rings pressing deeper into your throat as he leaned over you, lips brushing your ear.
"Wrong name," he growled, voice low and dangerous. His hips never stopped their brutal pace, cock slamming into you so hard your knees kept sliding on the sheets. "Try again, bunny. Who's fucking this tight little pussy right now?"
You couldn't think straight. Your visions are blurry, tears slipping down your cheeks as he kept choking you in short, dizzying bursts while he railed you mercilessly. Every time he squeezed, your brain went fuzzy with pleasure, your walls fluttering wildly around him.
"Daddy—!" you finally sobbed out, the word slipping out broken and needy when he loosened his hand again. "Daddy, please—!"
Chan let out a satisfied hum and rewarded you with an especially hard thrust, grinding deep against your cervix.
"That's better," he praised darkly, still tugging your hair to keep that perfect arch. "Look at you... getting quiet now. All that nasty attitude earlier and now you're drooling for me."
He gave your throat another firm squeeze, holding it longer this time until your breathing stopped completely for a few intense seconds. Your whole body trembled violently, pussy spasming around his cock as the lack of air pushed you dangerously close to the edge.
When he finally let you breathe again, you were a complete mess, gasping, crying, and moaning uncontrollably.
Chan's pace grew even rougher, the hand around your throat staying firm while his other hand slid down to slap your ass hard.
"You gonna keep being a brat?" he asked, voice rough as he pounded into you. "Or are you ready to tell me what's actually wrong so I can take care of my girl?"
You whimpered pathetically, eyes still crossed, barely able to form words as he kept ramming into you, choking you just enough to keep you dizzy and desperate.
"Daddy—!" you cried out hoarsely, voice cracking. "Daddy, I'm sorry— fuck, I'm sorry!"
He didn't slow down. If anything, he fucked you harder, hips snapping against your ass with wet, punishing slaps.
"Sorry for what?" he growled, leaning over your arched back, lips right against your ear. His hand stayed wrapped around your throat, rings digging in as a constant warning. "Use your words properly, bunny. Tell me why you've been such a nasty little brat all day."
You sobbed, tears streaming down your face as he kept railing you mercilessly. Every deep thrust knocked the air out of your lungs, making it even harder to speak.
"I'm— ahh!— I'm a brat," you finally choked out, voice broken and whiny. "Everything hurts and I feel so irritated— I didn't mean to snap at you... but I couldn't help it— Daddy, please—"
Chan hummed darkly, clearly pleased with your confession. He gave your hair another sharp tug and placing soft kisses on your jaw, so gwntle you thought he's softening up if not for his thrusts and how he grips on your hair.
Your eyes shut closed, mouth hanged open as you lost control completely. A pathetic, gurgling moan vibrated against his palm.
"Good girl," he praised, voice rough with lust. "Finally using your words like I told you to."
He released your throat just enough for you to gasp desperately for air, then slid his hand down to grip your hip instead, using it as leverage to fuck you even deeper.
"You should've told me from the beginning instead of acting like a spoiled brat," he scolded between heavy thrusts. "Now look at you... getting fucked stupid with your eyes rolling back."
Chan suddenly pulled your hair again, forcing your head back so he could see your face flushed, tear-streaked, eyes dazed and unfocused.
"You close, bunny?" he taunted, slamming into that perfect spot inside you over and over. "Gonna cum all over my cock while I choke you?"
You could only nod frantically, broken whimpers and sobs spilling from your lips as the pressure built unbearably inside you.
"Then beg for it," Chan ordered, his hand moving back to wrap around your throat again, ready to squeeze.
"Please—!" you choked out desperately, voice hoarse and broken. "Channie, please let me cum! I'm sorry for being a brat— I'm so sorry! Please, I need it—!"
Chan let out a satisfied growl and fucked you even harder, the wet slap of his hips against your ass growing louder and faster. He leaned down and his teeth sank at your shoulder, trying to ground himself.
Your breathing stopped completely.
For several dizzying seconds, no air entered your lungs. Your eyes rolled back, teeth sinking at your lower lip. The overwhelming pressure and pleasure pushed you right over the edge.
"Cum," Chan finally ordered, his voice dark and rough. "Cum on my cock right now, bunny."
The orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your whole body seized up violently as you came hard, pussy clenching and gushing around his thick cock. A silent, choked scream tore from your throat, no sound coming out. Your eyes stayed shut, tears streaming, thighs shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed through you.
Only when your orgasm started to peak did Chan loosen his grip on you, letting you suck in desperate, sobbing gasps of air while he kept pounding into you, fucking you through every spasm.
"That's it... good fucking girl," he groaned, still tugging your hair to keep you arched. He didn't stop thrusting. He kept ramming into your oversensitive pussy, drawing out your orgasm until you were whimpering and twitching helplessly beneath him.
Your body went limp, barely able to hold yourself up anymore as the aftershocks rolled through you. Only then did Chan finally slow his pace, still buried deep inside you.
He released your hair and loosened the grip on your throat, but kept his hand resting there possessively, thumb stroking over the marks his rings had left behind.
Chan leaned down, pressing his chest against your back as he murmured against your ear, voice still deep but now softer. "...There's my sweet girl. You did so well."
Chan slowly pulled out of you, his movements careful now that the intensity had passed. You immediately collapsed onto the bed, boneless and trembling. He quickly discarded the rest of his clothes and lay down beside you, gently turning your body so you were facing upward.
For a long moment, you were completely quiet.
Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as you stared blankly at the ceiling, eyes glassy and unfocused. The overwhelming mix of pleasure, pain, and the rush of emotions from subspace made your mind feel hazy. Tears silently slipped from the corners of your eyes, trailing down your temples.
Chan watched you carefully, his hand gently brushing damp strands of hair away from your forehead.
Then, a small, broken sob finally escaped your lips.
"I'm... I'm sorry..." you whispered, voice hoarse and shaky. "I didn't mean to be so mean to you... I just felt so irritated and overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I'm really sorry..."
Your voice cracked at the end, another quiet sob slipping out as the guilt hit you all at once.
"Hey, hey... shhh," Chan immediately cooed, his tone shifting completely into that soft, gentle voice you loved so much. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up against his warm chest. "It's okay, baby. I've got you."
He pressed soft kisses all over your face, your forehead, your wet cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your trembling lips. One of his strong arms cradled the back of your head while the other rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back.
"My sweet girl," he murmured tenderly, nuzzling into your hair. "You don't have to apologize so much. I know it's that time of the month. I know you get extra sensitive and irritated... but next time, just tell me, okay? You don't have to suffer alone."
You nodded weakly against his chest, still sniffling as more tears fell. Chan held you tighter, rocking you gently in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the world.
He reached over to grab a soft towel from the bedside table and carefully cleaned between your legs with the gentlest touch, whispering praises the entire time.
"There we go... such a good girl for me. You took everything so well, baby. I'm so proud of you."
Once you were clean, he pulled the warm blanket over both of you and tucked you securely against him. His fingers stroked through your hair in slow, comforting motions while his other hand rubbed your lower belly with light pressure, knowing the cramps would probably start soon.
"You're safe now," he whispered softly, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.
You let out a tiny, shaky sigh and finally relaxed fully in his hold, burying your face into his neck. The familiar scent of him grounded you.
"I love you..." you mumbled quietly, voice still thick with emotion.
Chan smiled warmly, hugging you even closer as he continued rubbing your back and belly. "I love you more, bunny." He kissed your temple softly.
He kept coddling you with gentle touches and sweet words, holding you like he never wanted to let go, until your breathing evened out and the last of your tears dried against his skin.
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who knew that one slip up could turn into the most dangerous game to unravel your secret ?
pairing: han x curvy!reader; classmates to lovers
genre: smut; fluff + loads of mutual yearning
warnings: explicit sexual content (minors do not interact) no details because it's way more fun that way ;)
word count: 10.75k
kysa's note: the way i've drowned myself in this fic — if i'm not known for nerdsung now — anyways i really hope you all enjoy this because it's literally triple the length i usually write and i had an amazing time writing it <3 leave your thoughts in the comments ! xoxo.
!! read part one here !!
"that tattoo — it’s a lily... isn't it ?"
you snapped upright, sitting back into your chair as your heart hammered against your ribcage.
shit.
shit.
he wasn't meant to see it.
hell, nobody was.
you liked keeping some things to yourself and that tattoo was one of them. you had gotten it inked when you finally got selected for the university — years of hard work finally paying off. and mind it, you were thorough with your research in this case as well. you weren't the type to just pick something off a flash sheet on a whim. you had looked through various designs for weeks, but you gave more weight to their symbolism and meanings than the aesthetics alone. then, you had come across pink lilies. according to several websites — and more importantly, your neighbour's florist dad — they represent femininity, happiness and finally, compassion.
that's what you felt — compassion — towards yourself.
compassion towards yourself for working on your dreams, for always trying your best even when it was hard, for crying through some days but still getting back up stronger, for doing it whether you were happy or sad, for being you, forever. it was a permanent reminder of the girl who survived the pressure, the one who bloomed in the dark.
nobody in your life knew about the tattoo — not even your parents or your closest friends. neither did you give them any opportunity to, always clad in clothes showing little to no skin of your waist — not just to hide the ink, but also because you were more comfortable that way. you preferred the safety of oversized cardigans, baggy t shirts and high-waisted jeans, keeping your secrets tucked beneath layers. that's why you were so stunned when you realised that not only had he seen it, but he had managed to observe exactly which flower it was in the microsecond that it was visible.
how could he be that observant ? his eyes were supposed to be on the economic growth charts, not on the sliver of skin above your hip.
all of a sudden, you realised that your walk down memory lane had lasted quite a few minutes, leaving jisung's question unanswered while you stared blankly at your notebook. you managed to stutter a response, "o-oh yes, i uh i love lilies. they’re... special to me."
jisung nodded in acknowledgement, turning his gaze back to the book in front of him. you heaved an internal sigh of relief to find him not questioning you and seemingly unbothered.
unbothered ? han jisung ? right now ?
unbothered when he had just discovered that the very person he had been pining after ever since he started university might just be the same as the angel on his screen he was obsessed with ? his mind was a whirlwind behind that calm masked expression. he could still see the way the petals of the lily curved against your waist and oh god — it was the exact same way they had shifted on his monitor when you had arched your back for him yesterday.
unbothered when he finally realised why the shy giggles through his headphones felt so familiar, having heard your melodious giggles in class, his ears craving the sound forever ? every time you had laughed at a professor's joke, he had felt a pull in his chest he couldn't explain. now he knew why. the girl he respected in the light was the same one who broke for him in the dark.
unbothered when it finally hit him that deep down, he was a goner, but only for you — in any way you wished ? he wasn't sure it was just a crush anymore. he was craving your presence, your voice, you. the revelation sat heavy in his chest, his heart hammering so hard he was sure you could hear it through the mahogany table.
he wasn't unbothered. he was barely holding himself back from closing his textbook and asking you exactly how messy you had gotten for him last night. his patience was hanging by a thread while he watched you working on the project, completely oblivious.
the two of you finished the study session in silence, the hours ticking by until you both finally headed home. you were sleeping peacefully, albeit after an hour of overthinking about him catching a glimpse of your tattoo and what it meant. however, jisung stayed up fighting for his life, trying to comprehend the reality of it all — was he going insane ? the girl of his dreams and the girl on his screen was the same all along, and he was officially a goner.
—————
another busy week at the university had finally come to an end, but it had left you feeling particularly hot and bothered. the cause being the increased proximity with the man of your dreams — the sheer number of hours you spent together working on the project. it did not help that your last meeting with him had ended with his eyes on your waist and no words on your lips.
finally the weekend rolled around and you found yourself setting up for your livestream. the camera was angled, the ring light in place, the rest of the room doused in moonlight entering through the windows. you leaned back, checking the frame one last time. today's outfit was the perfect balance of cozy and teasing.
the grey and white striped top looked deceptively casual, the long sleeves giving off a soft, homey vibe, but the fabric hugged your curves in a way that was anything but accidental. then there was the black mini skirt — short, bouncy, and the ruffles added a playful flare, sitting high on your hips.
but the real star of the show ? the thick white stockings.
they squeezed your thighs just right, creating that perfect soft dip in the skin where the fabric ended and your legs began. the extra thickness of the knit made them look plush and soft, a stark contrast against the dark ruffles of the skirt. they highlighted the soft curve of your legs, making them look pillowy and inviting, the kind of texture that begged for a lingering touch.
it was the kind of look that said you weren't trying too hard, yet every detail was designed to keep eyes glued to the screen. this outfit — a new one — was one of your favourites, and you would be lying if you said you weren't excited to see everybody's reactions to it.
everybody. right.
not just the one username that makes your eyes light up.
definitely not.
shaking your head to rid yourself of the thoughts, you clicked on the button and started the live stream with bated breath.
• moonlit_haze is live •
when the notification popped up on his screen, jisung was about to click it — call it instinct. but then his mind drifted to the newly acquired knowledge that the girl behind the screen was you. you never showed much skin; even the slight exposure in the library, when your cardigan had ridden up, had left you flustered. he would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the view of you covered in a pink tint — you looked too adorable. however, his mind couldn't skim past the fact that you clearly valued your privacy — would his watching the stream make you uncomfortable? was he betraying your trust in a way?
jisung was still contemplating — his brain muddled with the dilemma when he gets another notification.
• moonlit_haze invites you to the livestream •
you had sent him a special invite —
were you wondering where he was ?
were you waiting for him ?
where you — dare he say — missing him ?
oh how could he say no to you.
jisung's fingers reacted before he could, reaching out to click and accept the invite. his screen changed and there you were — in all your glory.
• j.one_01 has accepted your invite •
finally.
you had noticed he was online, that tiny green dot flickering next to his name, yet he hadn't joined. usually, he was the first one there, but today he was just... lingering. you waited. one minute. two. you had dolled up specifically for him — every ruffle and every inch of those stockings was for his eyes only. was he really not going to join ? was he not going to give you the reaction you were so clearly craving ?
at last, the restlessness had won, and you ended up inviting him instead. in hindsight, did it come off as too desperate ? were you being too obvious ? well, that was a worry for later — because he was finally here.
" you're late, j.one. i was waiting to hear about what you thought of my outfit today."
the words left your lips with a playful tilt, your voice dropping into that soft, melodic tone you reserved just for the camera — and for him. you leaned back, letting the chair creak slightly as you adjusted your position, making sure the moonlight hit the ruffles of your skirt just right. you weren't even looking at the chat yet, but you could feel the weight of his presence the second his name appeared on the screen.
you were teasing him, and you knew it. the silence on his end only made you bolder — you wanted to hear him say it. you wanted to know if the view of your thighs in those thick white stockings was doing exactly what you intended it to do.
jisung groaned.
he could practically hear the pout in your voice.
oh he didn't want to make you sad — when had he ever intended that ?
and your outfit ?
oh he would give you a reaction alright.
j.one_01 ($100): i'm sorry angel, i had to get my glasses. also this outfit looks fucking ethereal on you — might just be my favourite.
his eyes were fixed on the screen, heart hammering against his ribs at the sight of you. he was staring. he couldn't help it. the top looked so soft against your waist and the skirt accentuated your beautiful curvy hips. but oh god —
the thighs.
the beautiful fucking thighs.
clad in the soft white knit, you literally looked like the definition of an angel, his nickname for you coming to life. the soft knit of your stockings dug into your plush skin, your soft thighs nearly spilling out of them. the way they squeezed your thighs was just enough to make his breath hitch. he had been trying to be good, trying to keep his distance, but one look at you and all those noble intentions were out the window. he was yours, and by the way you were looking into the lens, you knew it.
as you read his comment, your heart skipped.
oh, he wore glasses.
immediately, your thoughts traitorously drifted back to the library — to the man who sat beside you with those beautiful silver frames perched on the bridge of his nose. he had such a gorgeous face, eyes so deep and captivating — of course, they deserved to be framed like a piece of art.
one thought led to another, and suddenly, your mind was entirely consumed by han jisung.
it was the way he carried himself — that effortless blend of sharp intellect and genuine passion. he was the type of person who excelled at everything he touched, yet he remained grounded, his politeness and respect never wavering. he listened to you with a focus that made you feel like the only person in the room, his brilliance only matched by his humility.
and then there was his smile. those beautiful, plush lips curving just right, sending your heart racing a mile a minute.
and what to say about his body —
those biceps.
every ounce of your principles seemed to evaporate the moment you pictured them — you were ready to do anything just to be caged in his arms. then there were the pecs, the sharp line of his jaw, and those neck veins that stood out when he was concentrated — it was such a lethal combination. he was a masterpiece of a man, and the more you thought about him, the harder it was to remember you were supposed to be looking at a camera.
all of a sudden, your attention snapped back to the room — the glow of the ring light and the hum of the camera bringing you back to reality.
shaking off the image of jisung’s lips, you pretended nothing had happened. since the camera was angled strictly from the neck down, the chat couldn't see the crimson flush creeping up your face, but they could see the way your chest rose and fell with every uneven breath. you refocused on the screen, reading the flurry of incoming comments.
onlyforher_65 ($50): babe did you zone out —
sam75rover ($40): she's sighing so softly omg
softspot404 ($45): those are sighs of yearning, i can feel it
the chat was moving fast, a blur of texts and tips. they were picking up on every little sound, every hitched breath. you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure, but it was hard to stay grounded when your mind was still half-lost in the library, tracing the lines of a man who was now watching you from the other side of a screen.
"sorry guys, i just... um... lost myself for a moment."
your voice was breathy, trembling slightly as it filtered through the mic. since they couldn't see your face, every tiny sound was magnified—every hitched breath, every soft swallow, every restless shift of your weight. the way the ruffles of your skirt rustled against your stockings was the only thing filling the silence.
the chat exploded.
gooninghard12 ($40): your voice is hitching T-T
dr3am3rb0y ($45): she's definitely blushing
kals.forlife ($40): do you have a crushhhhh ~
"hm maybe i do —"
the words were barely a whisper, a soft, shy giggle escaping your lips as you spoke them into the mic. you reached down, your fingers nervously tracing the hem of your black skirt, pulling at the ruffles as if that could ground you. but the damage was done.
the chat went absolutely feral, the text scrolling so fast it became a blur of white and neon. they couldn't see your eyes, but they could see the way you fidgeted. they saw your thighs press together, the white knit of your stockings straining against the movement. they heard the catch in your throat.
you were practically radiating a soft, nervous energy, your body language betraying the secret you hadn't even fully admitted to yourself. you were a mess — a pretty, ruffled, pink-tinted mess — and all because of a man who was staring at his screen right now, unknown to you, wondering who was that breathy confession for.
jisung didn't feel jealous. or at least, he didn't think he did. he had never really known the emotion — why would he ? he was a man who excelled at everything he touched, and if he ever lacked in a skill, he worked until he mastered it. but this ? this burning sensation in his chest was something he couldn't just study and overcome.
the idea of you yearning for someone who wasn't him — someone who didn't see the way your eyes lit up in the library or how your cardigan slid off your shoulder — made him feel a way that was entirely illogical. it was a sharp, jagged heat that he couldn't handle. his grip tightened on his desk, his knuckles turning white as he watched the way your soft thighs pressed together on the screen.
who was he ? who was the one making you sigh like that ?
before he knew it, his hands flew over the keyboard, typing and pressing enter.
j.one_01 ($80): who is the person, angel ?
a flurry of comments appeared on the screen, a chaotic scroll of curiosity, but your eyes were instantly hooked onto his username. the bold text sat there like a demand, and you didn't know what to do with it. you forced your gaze to move away from his comment, heart thudding against your ribs as you tried to focus on the others.
onlyforher_65 ($50): WHO IS THE LUCKY GUY ?!
dr3am3rb0y ($45): tell us tell us TELL US PLS
kals.forlife ($40): I KNEW IT !
you smiled again, finding everyone’s enthusiasm amusing, to say the least. it was a heady feeling — being the center of all that frantic curiosity. besides, this was your safe space. no one here knew the girl behind the camera, the quiet student who spent her hours buried in books.
right ?
you felt a sudden, reckless surge of confidence. if you couldn't say it to his face in the library, you could at least whisper it to the shadows of the internet. you might as well get it off your chest.
leaning closer to the mic, you let your fingers wander to the hem of your skirt, nervously twisting the fabric. the camera captured the way your thighs tensed, the white stockings stretching over your skin.
"well..." you started, your voice dropping into a low, confiding tone that sent the chat into another frenzy. "he's... he's my classmate in university and he’s brilliant. the kind of person who makes you feel like you're learning something new just by being near him. and he has this way of looking at things — so focused, so intense, so passionate."
you paused, biting your lip as the image of silver frames and plush lips flashed in your mind. "and he is kind... kind and gentle," you whispered, almost to yourself. "so gentle yet grounding, like being in his vicinity makes you feel lighter."
across the screen, jisung felt the air leave his lungs. his grip on the desk loosened, his heart stuttering at the sheer tenderness in your tone. he had expected you to talk about someone flashy, someone loud — but the way you spoke of this man, with such soft reverence, made the burning in his chest shift into something deeper, something far more dangerous. he found himself wishing — with a desperation that terrified him — that he could be that man for you. hell, he'd be anyone you wanted him to be.
your details warranted another inflow of comments, and you browsed through them with a gentle smile, mind already in a better headspace just thinking about him.
dr3am3rb0y ($45): HE SOUNDS JUST LIKE YOUR TYPE
gooninghard12 ($40): what does he look likeeee
softspot404 ($45): IS HE HOT BABE
you giggled, feeling giddy, the sound bubbling up from your chest. you shifted in your seat, the soft white knit of your stockings rubbing together with a quiet, shushing sound that the mic caught perfectly.
"is he hot ?" you repeated the question, your voice trailing off into a dreamy sigh. " is the moon pretty ? is the earth revolving ?" you let out a soft, airy breath, the sound vibrating through the mic. "he’s... gorgeous — too ethereal, i swear to god — but it’s more than that. he has this sharp jawline and the most beautiful eyes — the kind you can gladly drown into. his hands — christ — they're decorated with the most perfect veins and they... they look like they would be so careful, but also so so strong."
you traced a finger over your own wrist, imagining his touch. "and when he wears his glasses... the silver frames just make him look so sophisticated yet all my brain can think about is jumping his bones. honestly he's so much more than a crush, he's just the man of my dreams."
behind his screen, jisung felt a jolt of electricity shoot down his spine. his hand instinctively went to the bridge of his nose, fingers brushing the cool, polished metal of his own glasses. his heart was hammering so loudly he could hear it in his ears, a frantic thudding that made his vision swim.
it was a coincidence.
it had to be.
silver frames were common.
and plenty of people were brilliant.
he was held captive by your voice, waiting for the next detail to either shatter his hope or change his life forever. desperate and reckless, he needed to know if the man of your dreams was the one currently losing his mind over the way you spoke of him as your soft thighs spilled out of those white stockings.
then, your words fell into his ears, and they made the very air leave his lungs. the rest of the world ceased to exist — the glow of his monitors, the hum of the room — it all faded into a blur as his mind replayed your whisper.
"and he has this perfect choco chip mole on his right cheek that just adds to all of his beauty."
his hand instinctively reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the small mark on his right cheek. a jolt of electricity, sharper than any before, surged through him.
was it really him ?
did you really mean all of that for him ?
despite these signs pointing towards him, he just needed a final final confirmation, the logic-driven part of his brain struggled to comprehend it.
the girl he has been pining over wants him back ?
the girl of his dreams wants him back ?
he needed a final, undeniable confirmation.
with his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs, he pulled his phone from the desk. his fingers — usually so steady — trembled slightly as he typed out a message. he asked to meet in his dorm for the project next week instead of the library, claiming he was only free in the evening and the library would be closed by then.
it was a flimsy excuse, a test, a lure.
in real time, he saw your phone screen light up on the stream the exact second he hit send.
you glanced down, and a soft, amused laugh escaping you — a sound so intimate it made his breath hitch. "the person we were just talking about... he literally just texted me right now," you murmured into the mic, your voice laced with a sweet, disbelieving giddiness.
jesus fucking christ.
it was him.
it felt like you were reaching through the screen and stripping him bare in front of thousands while he sat in the dark, frozen. the intellect he was so proud of, the iron-clad composure he worked so hard to maintain — it all evaporated in an instant. he wasn't just watching a confession — he was witnessing his own undoing. you weren't pining for a stranger — you were pining for him, and as the stream continued, han jisung was utterly unraveling at the weight of your words.
you leaned back in your chair, the soft ruffles of your skirt settling as you let out a long, shaky exhale. the thrill of the confession was still humming under your skin, but the weight of that text message was pulling you back to reality.
"okay, that’s enough heart-to-hearts for one night," you said, your voice returning to a more natural, though still slightly playful, tone.
you smoothed the white knit of your stockings one last time, a small smile tugging at your lips as you looked at the camera lens. "i’ve got a project to... prepare for. thanks for hanging out with me, everyone."
the chat flooded with "goodnights" and "good lucks," the screen a chaotic blur of support. you gave a small, shy wave before reaching out and clicking the button to disconnect.
the monitors dimmed, and the familiar silence of your room rushed back in. you sat there for a moment in the dark, the only light coming from your phone screen. you picked it up, your thumb hovering over jisung's message, replying with a "sounds good !" before finally heading to bed, unaware that on the other side of the screen, his world had just shifted forever.
—————
holy mother of god.
why was he coming this way ?
you were sitting in class awaiting the professor when you saw jisung enter the lecture hall. up until this point, everything was normal. however, he walked right past his usual seat and started walking in what was undeniably your direction. before your brain could fully process the shift, jisung was standing directly in front of you with that lovely smile, his silver frames on his head, used to hold his hair back today. god — even his forehead was sexy.
"hey ! i was wondering if i could sit here ?"
his voice was a low hum that vibrated through the wooden desk and into your bones. you blinked, your heart performing a frantic tap-dance against your ribs. you had already met up with him several times to work on this project, but it had always been in the controlled environment of the library. there, the sessions were a maximum of two hours, and the silence was your shield.
the lectures, however, lasted for around four hours. the worst part was that you couldn't stay entirely engrossed in your notebook like you did during study sessions. you had to look up, understand the professor, and interact, and you were silently praying to god to keep your sanity intact while he sat right next to you for the entire duration.
"uh — yeah. yeah, sure," you managed to stammer, desperately hoping your voice didn't crack.
as he slid into the seat next to yours, the heat radiating from his shoulder felt like a physical blow. you stared straight ahead, but how could you evade the piece of art sitting right beside you, catching your attention from your peripheral vision.
"thanks," he murmured, leaning in as his broad shoulder brushed against yours.
unbeknownst to you, jisung was just trying to be more friendly, hoping to become friends and maybe gradually ask you out. up until now, he had always maintained a respectful boundary, careful not to intrude on your space or make you uncomfortable.
he had mistaken your shy silence for a need for professional distance, so he kept his interactions strictly about the project, never daring to push past that invisible wall. he had no idea that every time he backed off to give you room, your heart was actually screaming for him to come closer.
the four hours of the lecture were a slow-burn torture for you. it was a constant battle for survival — every time he shifted in the cramped seat, the heat of his shoulder against yours made your patience thinner and your resolve crumble. you spent the entire time staring at the chalkboard, but your mind was stuck on the physical heat of his presence, counting down the minutes until you could finally breathe again.
for jisung, the experience was even worse.
even though you were wearing baggy jeans, the proximity was lethal. every time his leg brushed against yours, he could feel the radiating warmth of your thigh through the denim, making his throat go dry as his mind wandered to the softness hidden beneath the fabric. he had to grip his pen with white-knuckled intensity just to stay focused on the professor while being so agonizingly close to you.
by the time the professor dismissed the class, you both packed up in a blur of polite smiles and lingering glances. the day bled into evening, the anticipation of the meeting hanging over you.
as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, your phone buzzed on your desk, the screen illuminating the dark room.
jisung [5:55 pm]: hey, my dorm is in building b. room 312.
jisung [5:56 pm]: see you soon.
replying with an "okay!", you started getting ready to leave for his dorm. the gears in your brain were already turning at the idea of being in his personal space. you didn't want to pass up this opportunity just because you were too shy to make a move — you needed to try, for your own sake.
he had practically sat beside you the entire day and talked so sweetly, with the softest of touches. you couldn't help but want to dress up for him, moving away from your regular soft, baggy clothes.
you walked over to your wardrobe, and right in front of you was the outfit you had worn for the last live stream: the grey top, the black skirt, and finally, the soft white knit stockings.
wouldn't it be particularly romantic to wear the same outfit you had on when you confessed your crush, even if it hadn't been directly to him ?
plus, it was just going to be him.
he had already mentioned asking his roommate to leave so you could both study in peace, likely sensing you were shy and would be apprehensive around new people. mustering every bit of courage you had left, you finally decided on the outfit, letting the romantic irony of the choice settle the butterflies in your stomach.
you put on your outfit, styling your hair in a half-up, half-down look with a claw clip. after grabbing your tote bag, you realized the outfit was a bit too risky for a solo walk, so you decided to take a taxi.
upon reaching the building, you took the lift up to the third floor and moved towards apartment 312. you could hear the muffled sounds of guys laughing inside — presumably they were his roommates or friends — before you finally rang the bell. you checked your phone — 6:15 pm. you were exactly on time.
good gracious —
jisung opened the door, and if you thought he looked handsome in class, he looked perfectly delectable right now. he was clad in a soft grey long-sleeved t-shirt and black baggy sweatpants, his hair slightly ruffled and those silver frames in their designated place on the bridge of his nose. you could practically feel the saliva pooling in your mouth.
was that an angel ?
was that his angel ?
this was the only thing running through jisung's mind the second his eyes landed on you. you were wearing the exact same outfit from your last livestream, and he felt like he was about to have a stroke. the screen and camera did no justice to the way your curves were enhanced by that skirt.
and then, the absolute cause of his demise.
those thighs.
they were clad in the soft white knit stockings, with a sliver of honeyed skin visible where the fabric ended. he had to physically dig his nails into his palms to keep from reaching out to touch the soft curve of your waist or those plush thighs pressing together.
"hey, you're here," he managed to say, though his voice sounded raspier than usual.
you whispered a "hey" as jisung ushered you inside, his hand reaching out to instinctively take your tote bag from your shoulder. he murmured something about his friends just heading out, but your heart was already beating too fast for you to fully process his words.
as you stepped into the warmth of the dorm, you offered a shy greeting to the two guys standing in the common area. they were already grabbing their jackets, their eyes flickering between you and jisung with poorly hidden amusement. they didn't linger — after a few quick nods and greetings in your direction, they moved toward the hallway.
just as they reached the threshold, one of them tossed a wave back over his shoulder.
"bye j.one, see you tomorrow."
the door clicked shut, the lock engaging with a heavy thud that seemed to echo through the sudden silence of the room.
the air in the small apartment shifted instantly. you stood frozen, the name echoing in your mind like a physical blow.
han jisung.
j.one.
'j' for jisung and... han is 'one' in korean.
j.one.
your brain scrambled to put the pieces together.
the username of the man who had dominated your chat, the one who had dropped a thousand dollars just to hear you speak his name. you slowly turned to look at him, your pulse skyrocketing.
it wasn't a coincidence. it was him.
the man of your dreams was standing right in front of you, and he had heard every single word of your confession.
"you're... you're j.one" you breathed out, the words barely a whisper as you took in the sight of him.
jisung stood there, still holding your tote bag, his posture stiffening as the silence stretched between you. he knew the mask had slipped the moment his friend used that name.
as your mind processed the influx of information, it finally dawned upon you."that's why you — you were shocked when you saw the... the tattoo" you breathed, the reality of it settling heavily in the room.
he didn't try to deny it. instead, his grip tightened slightly on the straps of your bag, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.
"that was the day i found out — and i... i couldn't believe the girl of my dreams..." he murmured, his words trailing off as eyes searched yours with a mix of anxiety and hope.
wait.
what ?
"t-the girl of your d-dreams ?" you muttered, as you repeated the words that fell from his lips, sounding foreign to your own ears.
the confession sent your world spinning. all this time, you had been harboring a crush on the quiet, handsome boy in your lectures, never imagining that the mysterious "j.one" who supported your streams was the very same person. but it was even more than that — he had been falling for you in both worlds simultaneously.
"i've liked you since the first day of the semester," jisung admitted, his voice dropping to that low, vibrating register. "long before I ever found your channel. and then, when I saw you on my screen and saw the same tattoo... i realized the girl i was falling for in class was the same girl i was losing my mind over online. i was terrified that if i told you all of a sudden, it would ruin everything we were building in person."
he took a tentative step closer, the soft light of the dorm room catching the silver of his frames as his gaze dropped to your outfit — the very one from your confession.
"i've been watching your streams since you started," he confessed, his voice dropping to that low, vibrating register. "at first, I couldn't believe it. I’d spend my days sitting behind you in lecture, memorizing the way you'd tuck your hair behind your ear, and then I’d go home and see you on my screen. I felt like I was living two different lives, and in both of them, I was completely falling for you."
you stood there, your brain finally connecting the dots — the way j.one always knew exactly what to say to calm your nerves, make you feel more comfortable, make you feel at home.
it wasn't just luck. it was really him.
you buried your face in your palms, blood rushing to your cheeks until they feel like they might actually catch fire. the heat was so intense it was nearly crimson, staining your skin under the soft light of his room.
"oh god — jisung, i've been losing my mind over you for months," you muttered into your hands, the words muffled and thick with the kind of raw embarrassment that made you want to melt into the floor. "i was literally swooning over you on a livestream because i thought you wouldn't notice me. and all this time... it was you ? you were right there ?"
the silence that followed was heavy, but not uncomfortable. it was the kind of silence that happens right before a storm breaks.
jisung let out a soft, breathy laugh — a sound that was part relief and part pure, unadulterated longing. he set your tote bag down on the entryway table with a clinical sort of care, his movements slow and deliberate. when he stepped toward you, you could feel the shift in the air, the way his presence suddenly loomed larger, warmer, and much more real than a username on a screen.
"look at me," he whispered, his voice a low, honeyed command that vibrated right in the center of your chest.
you shook your head frantically behind your fingers, your heart performing a violent rhythm against your ribs.
but jisung wasn't having it.
he reached out, his fingers gently encircling your wrists. his touch was firm but incredibly soft, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you that made your breath hitch. slowly, he pulled your hands away from your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.
up close, behind the silver frames of the glasses, his eyes were dark, searching yours with a desperate kind of intensity.
oh he could look at you for eternity.
you were so ethereal, he was awestruck.
"you have no idea," he murmured, his thumb grazing the pulse point on your wrist. "you think you were the only one going crazy ? i sat next to you for four hours today trying to breathe normally while your leg was inches away from mine. i've been sitting in that library staring at you, wondering how someone could be so perfect."
jisung leaned in just a fraction, his scent — that intoxicating mix of clean laundry, slight musk and something uniquely him — clouding your senses.
"i don't just want the girl on the screen," he whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to your eyes. "i want the girl who aces everything quietly. the girl who bites her lip when she’s thinking. the girl who's smile makes the world seem brighter, warmer. i want you."
a blooming sensation emerged in your chest, as if your heart was growing too big for your ribs, trying to burst at the seams from the sheer weight of the affection he was showing you. for the first time, the jisung you adored and the j.one you craved were the same person, and he was standing right in your space, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.
"i want you too, jisung. so badly that every thought exits my brain the second i look at you. even a text or a comment from you makes my knees buckle. every time you smiled at me in class, the world felt brighter, and i couldn't help but want you more and more," you whispered, the words pouring out of you now that the dam had finally broken.
the intensity in his eyes deepened, his grip on your wrists softening as his hands slid up to rest on your waist. the heat from his palms seeped through the fabric of your grey top, grounding you even as your head spun.
"you have no idea how long i've waited to hear you say that," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that low, husky tone that usually only existed in your dreams of him over you.
jisung took another half-step closer, the distance between you now completely non-existent. you could feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, see the way his pulse was jumping in his neck, mirroring your own. his gaze moved slowly over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way you were looking at him with wide, star-struck eyes.
"i sat through that four-hour lecture today thinking i was going to lose it if i didn't touch you," he whispered, his hand moving from your waist to cup the side of your face, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. "and seeing you in this outfit... the same one from the stream... it’s like you’re trying to kill me on purpose."
jisung leaned down, his forehead resting against yours. "can i ?" he breathed, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours, giving you every chance to back away even though he knew— and you knew — that there was nowhere else you would rather be.
a single nod of your head was all the permission he needed. jisung closed the final inch of distance between you, his hands sliding firmly onto your waist to pull you flush against him. you instinctively reached out, your fingers bunching the soft fabric of his grey shirt at his shoulders to ground yourself as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
as jisung’s soft lips met yours, a small gasp escaped you — a tiny sound of surprise and sweet relief of finally having his lips on yours — and he swallowed it right away, muffling the sound with the heat of the kiss.
soft. he was so incredibly soft.
and it wasn't just his lips — he was soft in every mannerism. it was the way his fingers splayed across the small of your back, holding you close without crushing you. it was the way his lips caressed yours with a slow, rhythmic patience, and the way he looked at you in the brief moments he pulled back to breathe — like you were someone precious he wanted to take his sweet, sweet time cherishing.
the kiss deepened naturally, his tongue grazing your lower lip in a silent question that made your toes curl inside your white knit stockings. you leaned into him, your heart hammering against his chest.
jisung could feel his dreams finally coming to life as your lips touched his, your shared breath filling his lungs. you were the epitome of sweetness, all soft and flustered in his arms — how could he not adore you ? he had spent so many nights wondering if the girl on his screen would ever feel this real, and now that he had you in his grip, he was never letting go.
you both moved in tandem, your lips glistening with shared saliva in the dim light of the dorm. you softly traced jisung's lower lip with your own before suckling on it, a move so bold it pulled a low, guttural groan from deep in his throat. the sound vibrated through both of your chests, making your knees feel like they were made of water.
"j-jisung..." you mumbled against his mouth, your voice thick and syrupy, "i — i can't believe it's actually you."
"it's me, baby — it's always been me," he whispered back, his voice a low, honeyed rasp.
as he pulled you closer, his hands sliding down to the dip of your back to press you firmly against him, your breasts smushed against his chest. the friction of your bodies meeting — the softness of your curves against the solid planes of his torso — was almost too much for him to handle. jisung didn't think heaven existed, but if it did, it was probably this.
his kisses became slower, more intentional, as he began to trail them down from your lips to your jawline. you let out a shaky, hitched breath when you felt his nose brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, his silver frames cold against your heated skin.
"j-jisung... ah —" you gasped, your head rolling back to give him better access. you arched into him, your chest pressing even firmer against his as a small, broken moan slipped from your lips.
the sound seemed to undo him.
he let out a low, needy sound, his lips moving from soft grazes to deep, lingering presses against the column of your throat.
"you... you're so beautiful," he mumbled against your skin, his hot breath making your knees buckle. his hands, which had been resting gently on your waist, suddenly tightened, his fingers digging slightly into the soft fabric of your skirt as he pulled you even closer, if that was even possible.
you felt the shift in his energy — the sweetness was still there, but it was being overtaken by a desperate, hungry heat. his teeth grazed the junction where your neck met your shoulder, and you felt a jolt of pure electricity shoot down to your toes, making you whimper his name.
"jisung... please," you whispered, your fingers tangling desperately in his soft hair.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and blown out, his breathing coming in ragged, shallow bursts. "the... the bedroom ?" he managed to choke out, his voice cracking with a mix of shyness and intense desire.
you didn't even have to answer. you just kept your hands locked behind his neck as he began to lead you backward, neither of you willing to break the physical connection for even a second.
his lips found yours again, deeper and more demanding this time, as you both stumbled toward the half-open door of his room, the air between you thick with the promise of everything you'd both been dreaming of since the very first lecture.
once you hit the mattress, jisung broke off the kiss to find you looking up at him with wide, blown-out eyes. your lips were swollen from his touch, and your breath was coming in short, ragged breaks. his heart absolutely swooned at the sight — you were so vulnerable, so beautiful, and so his.
"can i... can i get them off, angel ?" he whispered, his voice cracking with a mix of shyness and a heat that made your skin tingle. his fingers were already hovering at the hem of your top, his knuckles grazing the skin of your stomach.
holy fuck
he literally called you "angel." it was the nickname that always appeared in your stream comments, but hearing it fall from his lips in that low, husky rasp made your heart leap into your throat.
you whispered a small, breathless "yes" as he carefully tugged the grey fabric over your head and slid your skirt down. you reached up and pulled out your claw clip, letting your hair spill over your shoulders in messy waves.
jisung had seen beauty before.
hell, he had seen you during all those long streams.
but nothing could have prepared him for how you would look right now, laying on his mattress in a black lace bra and matching panties, with those soft white knit stockings still hugging your legs.
you laid there like a literal angel — with your hair framing your face, he could almost swear he saw a halo around you. your soft curves existed in their full glory — the gentle slope of your tummy, your gorgeous hip dips, and his absolute favorite — those plush thighs practically spilling onto the mattress, looking so soft he felt an ache in his chest just looking at them.
are you even real ?
his eyes met yours again, and he looked almost dazed, his silver frames sliding slightly down his nose as he hovered over you. "you're... god, you're so perfect," he mumbled, his hand reaching out to trace the curve of your waist. "i-i don't even know where to start."
you bit your lip, your heart hammering against your ribs so hard it felt like it might bruise. seeing him hovering over you, still fully dressed in his soft t-shirt while you were laid out like an offering, made a wave of shy daring wash over you.
"j-jisung..." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your shared, heavy breathing. you reached out, your fingers trembling as they hooked into the hem of his grey shirt. "can you... can you take these off, too ? i want to... i want to feel you."
the request seemed to short-circuit his brain for a second. his eyes went even darker, the pupils blown until only a thin rim of chocolate brown remained. "you — you want...?" he started, his voice cracking mid-sentence. he let out a shaky, half-breath of a laugh, his face turning a deep, endearing red. "yeah. okay. yeah."
he sat back on his heels, his movements a bit clumsy from the sheer adrenaline and nerves. you watched, mesmerized, as he crossed his arms and pulled the shirt over his head in one fluid motion.
oh. fuck.
you knew he was built, having observed him for an unhealthy amount of time, but seeing him with no barrier — it just hit different. his shoulders were broad, his skin a soft golden and glowing under the dim bedroom light, and the way his muscles rippled with every movement made your throat go dry.
he wasn't overly bulky, but he was lean and toned in all the right places — the kind of build that looked like it was made for holding someone close. he made quick work of his sweatpants, and as he moved back toward you, you couldn't help but stare at the way his chest rose and fell in ragged intervals.
he looked so handsome, so raw, and so incredibly flustered. when he crawled back over you, the heat radiating from his bare skin was intoxicating.
"is this... okay?" he mumbled, his arms bracing on either side of your head. he looked down at you, his silver frames sliding down his nose again, and the sight of his bare chest hovering just inches above your lace-covered breasts made your head swim.
"more than okay," you breathed, arching into him.
"you're so soft, angel," he groaned against your skin, his hands finally finding your plush thighs, his palms hot against the knit fabric of your stockings. "i feel like i'm dreaming... i never want to wake up."
he started to trail kisses along your collarbone, his touch becoming more confident as he felt you arch up to meet him, the friction of your bodies sending sparks through the quiet room. his hand slid higher, his thumb grazing the edge of your lace panties, and the sweetness of the moment began to sharpen into a deep, desperate hunger.
with a soft nod of permission from you, the lace was soon joined by the rest of your clothes on the floor, though he hummed a low, possessive sound when your hands went for your legs.
"no... keep the stockings on," he murmured, his voice thick and honey-dark. "you look too perfect in them."
he crawled between your legs, his knees gently spreading your plush thighs. he let out a low, ragged groan at the sight of you, his own heat pulsing with every passing second. to him, you were a masterpiece — the sweetest angel with the sweetest pussy ever, all soft and puffy, practically luring him in with your scent.
his hands slid underneath your thighs, his palms hot against the knit fabric of your stockings as he lifted you slightly, his gaze fixed on you with a hunger that felt almost reverent.
"angel," he breathed, his voice dropping into that deep, vibrating register that made your soul tremble. he leaned in close, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. "i want you to sit on my face. can you do that for me ?"
the request was so bold, so raw, that it sent a shock of heat straight to your core. you looked down at himb— jisung, with his messy hair and his face flushed a deep, beautiful crimson — and you realized he wasn't just asking. he was pleading. he wanted to worship you, to taste every bit of the girl who had dominated his thoughts for months.
"p-please," he mumbled against your inner thigh, his lips grazing the skin just above your stockings. "been dreaming about this for months. i want to taste how much you want me."
you felt the blood rush to your face, your heart performing a frantic tap-dance against your ribs. han jisung wanted your cunt on his face — who were you to say no ?
you gave a small, shaky nod, and the way his eyes lit up was enough to make your knees go weak all over again. as he laid down on the bed, you moved slowly, your face turning a deep crimson as you moved, your plush thighs framing his face as your hands reached out for the headboard.
as you moved to straddle him, jisung’s hand reached up, his fingers hooking around the silver bridge of his glasses to set them aside. "wait—" you whispered, your hand gently catching his wrist. you looked down at him, your voice small and shy. "c-can you leave them on ? i... i really love how you look in them, sungie."
jisung froze, his breath hitching as a deep, flustered red bloomed across his cheeks and chest. "y-you do ?" he mumbled, his eyes searching yours through the lenses, looking completely floored that you found his 'nerdy' frames attractive. a small, doted-on smile tugged at his lips as he dropped his hand back to your waist. "okay, angel. anything you want. i'll keep them on just for you."
as you lowered yourself, your core brushing against his lips, a broken sound escaped your throat. "is... is this okay ? tell me if i'm too heavy." you mumbled, so shy you couldn't even meet his eyes.
"more than okay — and angel, i deadlift nearly triple your weight — you're not fucking heavy, baby," he rasped, his hands coming up to grip your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin to steady you. "you're so... god, you're so pretty. you're perfect."
he didn't wait another second as he dived into the sweet treat hovering over him. when his tongue finally made contact, you let out a high, sharp gasp, your back arching as you clutched at his shoulders.
"jisung — ah fuck — j-ji..."
"shh, just take it, angel," he mumbled against you, his voice muffled but dripping with affection. "i've got you. i've finally got you right where i want you."
jisung practically devoured you, his tongue parting your folds to flick at your swollen pearl with a starving, desperate energy. he switched between long, dragging licks and sharp, needy suction, his head tilting to find the perfect angle as you bucked helplessly against him. his hands stayed busy, molding the soft flesh of your plush thighs and squeezing your hips to keep you pressed firmly to his face — his favorite view in the world.
he was relentless. his tongue suddenly darted deeper, sliding into your tight, wet hole with a rhythmic thrust that made your eyes roll back into your head. he let out a low, guttural groan right into your cunt, the deep vibration buzzing through your core and making your walls twitch and spasm around his tongue.
jisung’s silver-framed glasses were completely fogged over now, the lenses clouded from the rising heat of your bodies and his own frantic, shallow breathing. a few stray droplets of your juices had splattered onto the lenses, but he didn't even care; he was too far gone, his tongue darting back into your hole with a pulsing thrust that had you crying out his name.
"j-ji — i-i can't — nnnnngh — i'm g-gonna —" you sobbed out, your fingers digging desperately into his scalp, but he only gripped your thighs harder. his thumbs pressed deep into your soft, yielding skin to hold you in place, refusing to let you pull away from the worship you deserved.
"give it all to me, angel. let me see you break for me," he rasped, pulling back for a split second, his lips glistening and his eyes glazed with pure, unadulterated hunger.
he dived back in, his tongue swirling deep inside you before snapping back up to flick your pearl with a sharp, insistent friction.
the combination was too much, in the best way possible.
you felt the coil inside you snap, your body jolting as a wave of white-hot heat crashed over you. you arched your back high off the mattress, a sharp moan leaving your lips as you suddenly squirted, the hot spray hitting his face and further drenching his fogged-up glasses.
jesus fucking christ —
you literally squirted on his face.
life had never been better — never fucking ever.
jisung didn't pull away for even a heartbeat. he leaned into your dripping cunt, humming a deep, satisfied sound as he drank you in, his tongue catching every drop of your release as you shuddered and sobbed against him. he held you through the entire thing, his hands still molding your thighs and his face buried in your sweetness, proving that he really did want every single part of his angel.
his attention finally wavered when he heard you whimpering, your words falling in his ear making his head spin —
"wan — hic — wan your cock, sungie — mmmh please..."
jisung froze, your broken, hitching voice slicing right through the haze of his desire. hearing his name tangled with such a raw, desperate plea made his head spin faster than any high he’d ever felt. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his face flushed a deep, beautiful red as he took in your state — eyes glazed, hair a mess on his pillows, and your body still trembling from the way he’d just worshipped you.
"you... you want — ?" he started, his voice cracking mid-sentence. he let out a shaky, half-breath of a laugh, the shy boy in him momentarily stunned by your directness, but the heat in his gut quickly burned the hesitation away.
jisung moved with a new, frantic energy, his hands sliding from your thighs to your waist as he repositioned himself over you. his bare chest brushed against yours, the friction sending a new jolt of electricity through both of you. he looked down at you, his gaze intense even without his glasses, his pupils so blown they nearly swallowed the brown of his irises.
"god, i've been wanting to hear you say that since the moment we walked in here," he rasped, his forehead dropping against yours for a second as he tried to steady his breathing. "i want you so bad, angel."
he reached down and rolled a condom onto his dick, his fingers trembling slightly as he guided himself to your entrance. his knuckles turned white as he gripped your plush thighs, holding them wide so he could see every bit of where you met. he didn't just slam into you; instead, he guided the head of his cock to your entrance, his breath hitching as he felt how slick and ready you were for him.
"look at me, baby," he rasped, his voice trembling with the effort of holding back. "i'm going to go slow. i want you to feel every single bit of this."
jisung pushed forward just an inch, his eyes locked onto yours as your breath hitched. you felt the broad head of him stretching you open, the sensation so intense it made your toes curl.
"o-oh god... sungie..."
"you're so tight, angel," he groaned, his forehead dropping against yours as he pushed another inch deeper. "fuck, i can't believe how perfectly you're taking me."
jisung let out a sharp, jagged breath, his head dropping into the crook of your neck as he felt your walls frantically trying to accommodate him. the way you were falling apart, your voice breaking into those small, needy hiccups, was making his own self-control slip through his fingers.
"god... you're so tight," he groaned against your skin, the sound muffled and raw. he stayed still for a heartbeat, his hips pinned heavily against yours as he felt you pulse around him. "just... give me a second, angel. you’re wrapping around me so perfectly."
he started to move then, not with long strokes, but with slow, shallow grinds that forced you to feel every bit of his girth.
"mmmph... please... m-more," you whined, your hands sliding down his back to pull him closer, desperate for the friction. "too — hic — big... 's so big, sungie..."
jisung’s eyes snapped open, dark and glazed with a mix of pride and pure hunger. "i know," he rasped, a small, breathless smile tugging at his lips despite the sweat dripping down his temple. "i know it's a lot, baby. but you're taking it so well. look at you..."
he pulled back, almost all the way out, before sliding back in with a wet, heavy thud that knocked the air right out of your lungs.
"hngh !" your back arched off the mattress, your fingers curling into the sheets. "feels s'good... 'm so full—"
"yeah ? you feel that ?" he grunted, his pace picking up just a fraction, the rhythm becoming more insistent. "such a sweet girl and suuuuuch a sweet pussy... god, you're so wet for me."
he stopped midway through a thrust, his muscles locking up as you squeezed him particularly hard. he let out a choked moan, his eyes fluttering shut as he fought the urge to finish right then and there. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, tongue-heavy kiss to swallow your whimpers, his hips starting to roll in a way that hit that one spot deep inside, over and over again.
the friction of his rolling hips was too much, the sensation of him grinding against your deepest point sending sparks through your entire nervous system. your legs, still draped over his broad shoulders, shook uncontrollably as you felt the familiar coil in your gut tighten into a knot.
"jisung — wait, i'm —" you gasped, your nails digging into the skin of his back.
"i've got you," he panted, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rumble. he didn't slow down — instead, he drove in deeper, his pace turning frantic and raw. "come for me, angel. right now."
with one final, bone-deep thrust, you shattered. your internal walls clamped down on him in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses that sent him over the edge instantly. jisung let out a loud, broken cry against your neck, his body stiffening as he came, his weight collapsing onto you as you both drifted back down to earth, hearts hammering against each other in the quiet room.
the heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of your synchronized breathing and the occasional rustle of the sheets as the adrenaline began to fade. jisung stayed buried in you for a long moment, his forehead pressed against yours, before he slowly, reluctantly slid out.
"stay right here," he whispered, his voice still a bit scratchy. "don't move an inch."
he disappeared into the bathroom, returning a minute later with a warm, damp towel. he climbed back onto the bed, his movements soft and careful as he began to clean you up. he was incredibly thorough, his touch tender as he wiped away the evidence of how much he’d just worshipped you. he kissed your plush thighs, lingering over the faint red marks his fingers had left behind.
"you okay ? i didn't go too hard, did i ?" he asked, looking up at you through his glasses with those soft, worried eyes. when you shook your head and reached for him, he let out a relieved breath.
he padded over to his dresser and pulled out his favorite oversized grey hoodie and a pair of his softest jersey boxers. he helped you sit up, gently guiding your arms through the sleeves. the hoodie was huge on you, the hem reaching mid-thigh, and the sleeves swallowing your hands. he chuckled softly, tugging the hood over your messy hair before pulling the boxers up your legs.
"there," he murmured, tucking you back under the duvet and climbing in beside you. "much better. you look so good in my clothes, angel."
he let you settle against his chest, his arms wrapping around you securely. he stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding you, until he suddenly remembered something. he gently disentangled himself, whispering another "be right back" before slipping out of the room.
when he returned, he was hiding something behind his back, a nervous, dorky grin playing on his lips.
"i... uh... i had these hidden in a vase in the hall closet," he mumbled, stepping closer to the bed. he revealed a beautiful, fragrant bouquet of pink lilies.
"i wanted the timing to be perfect, but honestly ? after tonight ? i couldn't wait another second."
he sat on the edge of the mattress, handing you the flowers with a hand that was still slightly trembling. his silver glasses were a bit crooked, reflecting the soft light of the room.
"i love you, angel. so... will you be my girlfriend ?," he said, his eyes searching yours with a raw, terrifying sincerity.
you didn't even need to speak — the way you pulled him back into the blankets. burying your face in the lilies and then his chest, you mumbled a yes and it told him everything he needed to know.
"yeah," he breathed, his chin resting on top of your head as he squeezed you tight. "my girl."
