#humin x reader

yeon sieun ໒꒱

• he’d pretend like he doesn’t care, sitting stiffly while you dab toner on his face

• “is this really necessary?...” he’d mumble, trying to sound annoyed, but the way his eyes flutter shut when your hands brush his cheeks completely gives him away

• secretly, he loves the quiet intimacy of it — the calm, the warmth, the fact that it’s you

• when you slide your pink headband onto him to keep his hair back, he’d murmur a soft “don’t.” but he wouldn’t take it off either

• once you finish, he’d look at you with that soft, unreadable gaze of his and quietly ask “do i… look better?”

“you look moisturized!” you’d giggle, squishing his cheeks as he tries not to blush

• whenever you call him cute, his ears turn pink immediately and he mutters “stop…” while very much hoping you won’t

• eventually he’d begin requesting face masks before studying, claiming they “help him focus more” — when really, he just wants an excuse to feel your gentle hands on his skin again

sieun sat at his desk, hunched over a stack of notes, pencil tapping rhythmically as he studied. the room was dim except for the small lamp beside him — the only real light came from your side, where you sat cross-legged on his bed with your little bag of skincare opened beside you.

you were humming softly, patting toner into your cheeks, completely focused on your reflection in the tiny mirror that you’d propped up against his pillow.

after a minute of listening to the gentle tap tap tap of your fingers on your skin, sieun finally turned, his expression calm and unreadable.

“what are you doing?” he asked, voice low and even.

you didn’t look at him, still massaging serum into your face. “my skincare,” you answered lightly “it’s my routine before bed.” you dabbed some cream onto your nose, leaning closer to the mirror. “you should start too, you know. your lips are unbelievably dry. a simple vaseline would help…” you mumbled, half-focused on trying to blend everything perfectly.

sieun rolled his eyes and glanced back at his textbook — but then he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror you were holding. the way the light hit his mouth made it obvious.

my lips really are dry…

he stared at them a beat too long.

then, without turning fully toward you, he murmured “can you help then?”

you froze mid-pat, finally shifting your gaze from your reflection to him. “help… with your lips?” you asked, blinking.

sieun kept his eyes on the page in front of him, trying for indifference, but his ears were already burning pink. “you said it would… fix it.” he cleared his throat. “so. do it.”

your surprise melted instantly into excitement, your whole face lighting up. “really?” you grinned, already scrambling off the bed to grab the vaseline.

sieun finally looked up at you, still acting uninterested, but sitting a little straighter, lips slightly parted like he was trying not to look nervous.

“don’t make a big deal out of it” he muttered.

you just laughed softly, dipping your finger into the balm as you moved closer to him. “i won’t,” you whispered “tilt your head up.”

and he did. without complaint. without hesitation.

eyes closing the moment your thumb brushed the soft skin of his bottom lip — his entire posture melting a fraction, the stiff lines of tension slipping away as he let you take care of him.

and for the first time that night, he didn’t pretend not to enjoy it.

ahn suho ໒꒱

• he’s way too excited, like he’s been waiting his whole life for you to offer to do his skincare

• he sits down in front of you with that bright, eager smile “okay! i’m ready! use the fancy stuff— don’t hold back!”

• when the cold toner touches his face, he jerks back dramatically “AAH— it’s freezing?? how do you survive this every night??”

• absolutely adores sheet masks — picks the cutest patterned ones (he picked the one with a tiger pattern for himself to “look cool”) and immediately takes photos of both of you

• when you massage his cheeks, he melts instantly — he closes his eyes, leaning into your hands “mmh… you’re really good at this… never stop.”

• tries to return the favor but he’s a menace TT manages to poke your eye, wipe half of the moisturizer on your nose, and drop half the serum “wait— wait— don’t move! i’m a professional!” (he is definitely not a professional.)

• every step of the routine he’s asking a hundred questions

“what does this do?”

“is this the one that makes me glow?”

“will i look like an idol after this?”

and you’d just giggle “sure, suho.”

• keeps checking himself in your camera, tilting his face like he’s on a photoshoot “am i glowing yet?? tell me the truth.”

• once you finish, he follows you everywhere, grabbing your hand so you can feel his cheek “touch it! no— seriously. feel how soft i am now. i’m like a baby seal.”

• and you KNOW he’s going to text sieun about this afterwards lol “sieun-ah! i have a glowing skin now. don’t be jealous.” (sieun, in fact, doesn’t care)

suho sprawled comfortably on your bed, kicking his feet like he owns the place, when his eyes drift up to the posters on your walls — glittery k-pop idol boys staring down, looking absolutely flawless.

he squints.

“hey,” he calls out, voice full of fake offense “you don’t like them more than me, right?”

you laugh, flopping beside him.

“of course not. you’re my favorite boy ever.”

his ears turn pink instantly “oh.” he tries to hide his smile by looking back at the posters, but it really doesn’t work.

he leans closer to one of them, analyzing every inch of their faces with dramatic seriousness.

“but damn… how are they doing that?” he whispers, awestruck “their skin—it’s like they don’t have pores at all. that’s… illegal.”

you shrug casually “well, in order to achieve that you need to do your skincare, suho. wanna try? i have like a bunch of stuff.”

his head snaps towards you so fast you hear the mattress bounce.

his eyes are shining.

“does that mean you’re going to be touching my face the whole night?”

you flick his forehead “you’re stupid. but yeah, basically.”

he sits up straight and throws a triumphant fist in the air like he just won a national championship.

“YES!!”

and so, you set everything up—toner, serums, sheet masks—and suho sits in front of you all obedient and excited, legs crossed, hands on his knees like he’s attending the world’s most important appointment.

“okay,” you say, opening the toner “hold still.”

the second the cold cotton pad hits his cheek he dramatically squeals.

“it’s FREEZING, babe. maybe a warning next time???”

you’re giggling too hard to reply.

he tries to recover his pride by straightening up “i’m fine. i’m tough. continue.”

later, when you’re smoothing moisturizer onto his face, he watches you with soft eyes, quiet for once.

“hey,” he murmurs, cheeks glowing even before the skincare kicks in “if i look even half as good as those poster guys… i’m putting this routine on my résumé.”

you laugh, tapping his nose.

“you already look better than them.”

his blush spreads all the way to his neck.

after you finish, he keeps touching his own cheeks in disbelief.

“babe. babe. feel this. i’m… squishy.”

“that’s called being moisturized, suho.”

“no. it’s called perfection.”

he curls into your side under the blankets with a satisfied hum.

“from now on we’re doing this every time i’m sleeping over” he announces.

and honestly? with how happy he looks… you’re not saying no.

oh beomseok ໒꒱

• when you first suggested doing his skincare, his whole body tensed — not because he didn’t trust you, but because the thought of you seeing every pore, every blemish, every tiny insecurity up close made his stomach twist

• what if she’s gonna think i’m gross? what if she realizes i’m not good enough?

• so he declined quietly, muttering something about being tired

• you tried to play it off, but he caught the tiny flicker of disappointment in your eyes — and it hit him like a punch to the chest

• he spent the rest of the night mentally tearing himself apart for letting his insecurities ruin a moment that could’ve made you happy

• a few days later, when you came over to sleep at his place again, he greeted you at the door holding an enormous gift bag, blush creeping up his neck

• inside? a massive collection of high-end skincare: sheet masks, soothing gels, glass-skin serums, under-eye patches, moisturizers so expensive they should require ID to buy

• the way your eyes sparkled as you picked through the products made something warm bloom in his chest

• he watched you like you were opening presents on christmas morning — and for once, he felt proud that he made you this happy

• gently, almost timidly, he sat beside you and whispered “do you… think any of this could make my skin better…?”

• you froze, jaw dropping, still examining the products “are you kidding?! this stuff could make anyone glow — it’s insanely high quality! wait… wait— beomseok— are you saying you want me to do your skincare tonight?” you looked at him with literal stars in your eyes

• he let out this soft, breathy laugh, cheeks turning pink as he avoided your gaze “i… i’d like that. yeah.”

• when you started, he was stiff as a board — shoulders locked, eyes wide, holding his breath every time your fingers brushed his skin — nervous, shy, terrified of being seen so closely

• but the longer your hands worked on him, so gentle, careful, and loving, the more his muscles loosened

you were overjoyed when beomseok finally agreed to let you do his skincare.

the moment he sat down on the edge of his bed, you practically skipped over, grabbing your little pink headband and gently sliding it into his fluffy hair to keep it out of his face.

“cute” you whispered without thinking.

his ears turned red instantly.

you took your time choosing each product — toner, serum, moisturizer — everything you knew his skin needed.

but the second your fingers touched his cheeks, his whole body went rigid, like he was holding his breath through the entire process.

you paused, worry settling in “beomseok… if you don’t like this, i can stop, you know?”

his eyes widened in panic, hands shooting up defensively “no! no, it’s not— it’s not that!”

he swallowed hard, voice dropping to a whisper “i just… if you see me this close, you might realize i’m not really… the most handsome guy you could’ve chosen, you know?…”

and that was all it took for you to swing one leg over and straddle his lap, your sudden closeness making him freeze, then turn bright red from the tips of his ears to his collarbones.

his breath hitched.

“w-wait—”

you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“beomseok,” you murmured, smiling gently “to me, you’re the prettiest guy ever. i promise.”

your hands cupped his cheeks as you continued “skincare is supposed to relax you, okay? and if anything…” your grin turned playful, eyes sparkling “i’m happy i get to touch you more.”

he let out a shaky breath, arms wrapping around your waist as he hid his face in the crook of your neck, completely overwhelmed.

“you’re gonna make me lose my mind like this…”

his voice was muffled against your skin, but you could hear the relieved smile in it — soft, real, and full of affection he usually kept buried.

and just like that, he finally relaxed beneath your touch.

park humin (baku) ໒꒱

• he’s so excited it’s borderline dangerous “WE’RE HAVING A SPA DAY? LET’S GOOOOO!!”

• completely loses his mind over how good everything smells “WHY DOES THIS ONE SMELL LIKE FRUIT SALAD—you sure it’s not edible? the packaging is in cute colors too! looks like candy.”

• puts on a sheet mask and snaps multiple selfies, sending one to hyuntak

hyuntak: you look ridiculous

baku: YOU HAVE NO TASTE!

he’s genuinely offended for the rest of the night

• hypes you up nonstop while you do his skincare

“your hands are MAGICAL—are you secretly a licensed esthetician?”

“you should start a business; i’ll be your model, your mascot, everything!”

• tries to return the favor by rubbing moisturizer on your cheeks, huge smile plastered on his face, though he’s mostly just squishing your cheeks in his huge hands without any real technique

“baku—it hurts…” you mumble

“BUT YOU’RE SOOOOO CUUUUTE” he replies, squishing your cheeks gently like a plush toy

• takes the praising part way too seriously

“babe you’re glowing”

“babe you’re radiant”

“babe i’m blinded… actually wait—yeah, still blinded”

• by the end, he’s sprawled on the floor with his sheet mask slipping off mumbling “that was literally the best day of my life…”

you were sitting on baku’s lap, carefully tending to the small injuries he’d gotten from some fight earlier, when some union punks tried to pick on juntae and sieun and baku of course stepped in, in order to protect them. his lip was slightly split, faint bruises along his cheekbone making you frown as you examined him.

he didn’t mind the attention though. in fact, he was grinning, hands resting gently on your sides as if he couldn’t believe you were this close to him.

“your skin is… kind of dry,” you murmured casually, tilting your head as you grabbed a small tube of moisturizer “while i’m at it… don’t you want me to do your skincare too maybe?”

baku’s eyes lit up instantly, as he nodded eagerly.

you tried to open the tube, twisting and pulling, but it wouldn’t budge. you let out an exasperated sigh. “ugh… why won’t this open?”

“ohhh, let me help!” baku said, reaching over, all smug confidence “that’s why you’re dating an athletic guy, dear.”

he twisted the cap, pressing a little too hard. suddenly, a blob of cream shot out, landing on both your hands — and a little splattered onto his chin and your lap.

“HUMIN! this is expensive!” you exclaimed, lunging to grab the tube from him.

he caught your hands in his, holding them gently but firmly, and leaned forward, pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips.

“c’mon… don’t be mad” he said with a cheeky grin.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head, instantly forgiving him. “fine, but you’re helping me clean this up too.”

he chuckled, tilting his head so you could carefully smooth the cream over his cheeks. the entire time, he stayed relaxed under your gentle hands, eyes soft, grin still plastered across his face.

“i’m really lucky, huh?” he whispered quietly, almost shy.

you hummed, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead “yeah… you are. now stay still, mister.”

he laughed, wrapping his arms around you tighter, letting himself completely melt under your touch. and just like that, the evening turned into soft laughter, gentle teasing, and quiet intimacy — just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

go hyuntak (gotak) ໒꒱

• acts annoyed immediately when you suggest skincare

“i’m not putting that crap on my face.”

“pleaseee?”

“no, i’m an athlete! i’m supposed to have rough skin!”

• literally ten minutes later, sighs and sits down reluctantly “fine. but only because you asked.”

• pretends to hate everything you do while applying products, but completely melts every time your hands touch his jaw or cheeks

• complains mid-application “don’t press so hard—wait, actually… keep doing that, it feels… nice.”

• afterward, tries to act tough but can’t hide his satisfaction “…my face feels kinda fresh, i guess. don’t get cocky.”

• secretly enjoys the quiet intimacy of the moment, even if he grumbles the whole time

you were curled up on gotak’s bed, waiting for him to come back from basketball practice. the window was cracked open, letting in the cool evening air, and you were half-asleep when you heard heavy footsteps in the hall.

the door swung open.

gotak stood there, sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead, shirt clinging to him. he gave you a huge grin the moment he spotted you.

“hey” he said, already leaning in for a kiss.

you immediately pressed your hands to his chest.

“no. not before you shower, mr. stinky.”

he froze, offended but amused.

“stinky? seriously? i just carried the whole team—”

“and the whole team’s smell is still on you” you shot back.

he let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes but smiling anyway.

“fine. i’ll go. don’t run away while i’m gone.”

the bathroom door closed, and you could hear him humming off-key under the water.

while he was showering, you quietly arranged your skincare products on his nightstand — creams, toners, essences, everything lined up perfectly. you even added your cute little headband for dramatic effect.

gotak stepped back into the room a few minutes later, towel around his neck, hair damp and fluffy.

he stopped dead in his tracks.

his eyes flicked from the nightstand… to you… to the products… back to you.

“no,” he said immediately “no way. not a chance.”

you looked up at him sweetly.

“but you’re so fresh and clean right now… the timing is literally perfect!”

he pressed his lips together, trying so hard not to look affected.

but then you tilted your head slightly, eyelashes fluttering just once — and that was it.

“ugh,” he muttered, running a hand down his face “why do you have to be cute.”

he dropped onto the bed beside you like a defeated warrior.

“fine. do whatever. but i’m not promising anything.”

you tried to hide your smile as you reached for the toner. he sat stiffly at first, but the moment your fingers brushed along his jaw, his posture instantly softened. his eyes half-closed, shoulders loosening.

“you’re taking this surprisingly well” you teased lightly.

“oh shut up” he mumbled, though it came out way too soft to be convincing.

you worked the moisturizer next, hands gentle and slow. his breath hitched just slightly when your thumb moved up to his cheekbone, and you pretended not to notice how he subtly leaned closer.

when you finished, he blinked at you, expression unreadable — but warm.

“…okay,” he muttered “maybe it wasn’t the worst thing ever.”

you smirked.

“so you admit you liked it.”

“don’t push it” he said, ears turning red. then he leaned in, brushing his forehead against your. “can i kiss you now? i showered, didn’t i?”

you smiled “yeah. you did.”

and this time, you let him press his lips against yours.

seo juntae ໒꒱

• so excited but soooo shy about it

• “i’ve… never done this before… is it really okay?”

• sits nervously with his knees together while you lather foam cleanser on him

• gets flustered each time your fingers touch his face

• when you apply moisturizer, he’ll whisper “your hands are… really gentle.”

• absolutely loves couple sheet masks

• “you look like a cute slime monster.”

• wants to try your lip balm and accidentally puts way too much “i look silly now don’t i haha?…”

• later buys skincare sets for both of you because he thinks it’s “your ritual together” from now on

you and juntae were sprawled out on your bed, watching one of his comfort animes. on-screen, the couple was sitting together in matching sheet masks, laughing and leaning into each other.

juntae blinked at it, cheeks tinting pink almost immediately.

“that’s… actually kinda cute” he whispered, pulling his hoodie sleeves over his hands “the skincare thing. it looks… intimate.”

you turned to him, smiling “yeah? you think so?”

he nodded slowly, eyes still glued to the screen “it’s like… something anime couples do before they confess.”

you nudged him lightly “well… we can do it right now if you want to.”

his head snapped towards you so fast you almost laughed.

“r-right now?? i mean— uh— if you want to. i’m fine with it. totally fine.” he said, as his voice cracked a little.

you grabbed a couple of sheet masks from your drawer, and by the time you turned back to him, he was already sitting up straight, hands in his lap, posture stiff like he was about to take an exam.

“you can relax, you know” you giggled.

“i am relaxed” he said, shoulders up to his ears.

you cupped his jaw gently as you wiped his face with a warm towel. instantly, he shut his eyes and held perfectly still — so obedient it was adorable.

“you don’t have to close your eyes yet.”

“o-oh. sorry.”

he peeked at you shyly… then closed them again anyway.

you laid the mask over his face, smoothing it carefully. every soft drag of your fingertips made him tense, then slowly melt, his lashes fluttering just a little.

after a few minutes, you peeled it off and tapped the essence into his cheeks. juntae kept his eyes closed the whole time, patient and trusting, like he didn’t want the moment to end.

“one last thing” you whispered.

he hummed, still calm, still waiting.

you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

his eyes flew open — wide, startled, and very, very pink.

“h-huh—??”

he looked like his soul left his body for a second.

you grinned at him “that step wasn’t in the anime, but i added it.”

he covered half his face with his sleeve, hiding a huge smile.

“if… if we do skincare again… can that step be… um… mandatory?”

“yeah,” you whispered, brushing his hair back “every single time.”

he looked down shyly, but you could hear the tiny, happy laugh he tried to hide.

geum seongje ໒꒱

• “oh? you dare to touch my face now? that’s bold.” he’d scoff, acting like you just challenged him to a duel

• pretends it’s the biggest inconvenience in the world — he’ll gladly throw punches in a fight, but sitting still for five minutes while you pamper him? suddenly impossible

• you always make him wear your pink headband because his hair ALWAYS gets in the way, but the second you let out even the tiniest giggle at how cute your tough boyfriend suddenly looks, he’ll rip it off with an annoyed huff

• always insists on a condition: if you’re doing his skincare, he gets to hold you in his lap

• will absolutely pull you closer mid-routine, making you straddle him completely because “you’re too far, i can’t see you properly.”

• keeps smirking at you the whole time, just to fluster you on purpose and make you mess up

• watches you with half-lidded eyes, gaze thick and hungry, like he’s more interested in you than the skincare (spoiler: it’s because he is)

• if you tell him to hold still, he’ll deliberately move a little just to annoy you and hear you scold him “you really trust me to sit still while you do this?” he’ll tease, voice dropping almost to a purr

• after you finish, he’ll kiss your palm and say “good job, pretty girl.”

you were sitting cross-legged on seongje’s bed, while he was passionately playing some videogame on his PC and eating some instant ramen at the same time. the room smelled like broth and cigarette smoke — his usual combo. after a moment of watching him play, you huffed under your breath.

“no wonder your skin acts up when you eat this trash all the time… and with your smoking habits on top of it.”

you didn’t even mean it as an insult — just an observation. but the game suddenly paused. seongje turned in his chair, eyes narrowed in that sharp, unreadable way of his.

“yeah? and what can you do about it, huh?” he leaned back, arms crossed “am i not handsome enough for you like this or what?” his laugh was low, humorless.

you rolled your eyes so hard at his words it could’ve been audible “all i’m saying is, you could take care of your skin at least, considering all the unhealthy stuff you do. you know i always have products on me.”

he scoffed, shaking his head “i beat up people for money, babe. you think a guy like me is gonna sit around doing skincare?” he laughed again — but this time, the irony wasn’t lost on either of you.

because ten minutes later, he was sitting on his bed with the most annoyed expression known to mankind. your pink headband kept his hair pushed out of his face, glasses tossed carelessly on the nightstand. you sat in front of him, squeezing lotion into your hand with complete focus.

“hold still” you muttered.

he didn’t listen, obviously. but he didn’t pull away either.

as your fingers gently spread the moisturizer over his skin, he visibly relaxed, the tension melting from his shoulders. he hated how much power you had over him. or maybe he loved it — judging from the way he stared at you.

then, suddenly, he tilted your chin up with one finger, leaning close enough that you could feel his breath.

“you’re cute when you concentrate” he murmured, voice low and smug.

your hands immediately trembled. he smirked, delighted.

and before you could recover, his hands slid to your hips, pulling you closer between his knees. “you know what,” he said with a soft chuckle “now i get the appeal of this whole skincare thing.”

you yelped when he started to place light kisses along your neck, your grip on the lotion bottle tightening “seongje— you’re so stupid! i’m not even halfway done, let me finish!”

he rolled his eyes, pulling back with a slow smirk. “yeah, yeah. you’re lucky i’m in a good mood.”

you managed to finish — though barely — with your heart pounding like crazy thanks to him.

the next day, when you two were hanging out at the bowling alley together, a couple of the union guys eyed him curiously.

“hey, seongje, why do you look… kinda glowy today?”

he just shrugged lazily, hands in his pockets.

“yeah, my girl likes touching my face too much.”

you nearly collapsed on the spot.

and he knew it — because he sent you a sideways smirk, eyes glittering with absolute victory.

that man was going to be the death of you someday.

na baekjin ໒꒱

• he’s initially hesitant, more out of pride than dislike — acts like he doesn’t need pampering, but secretly enjoys it

• will analyze every product you use, asking pointed questions about its ingredients or effects, showing his meticulous side

• enjoys quiet, intimate moments of touch, but rarely verbalizes his appreciation

• shows subtle signs of relaxation — slower breathing, softer posture…

• will occasionally peek at the mirror mid-routine, giving small nods of approval at the results

• enjoys your gentle touches around his jawline and forehead the most, though he’d act indifferent

• doesn’t usually like to be fussed over for too long, so shorter, efficient skin care routines are ideal for him

• appreciates your effort and care behind the routine more than the act itself — the closeness between you two matters to him the most at the end of the day

you had just finished tidying up a few things in your room when you heard the familiar shuffle of papers and a faint sigh. baekjin was already there, sprawled across your table with his hair messy, gel long gone, and a stack of union documents spread out before him. he looked focused, but tense — the kind of tense that always made your chest ache.

“baekjin, dear… rest up a bit, hm?” you murmured, sliding behind him to wrap your arms lightly around his shoulders. your chin brushed against the back of his head. he gave a small sigh, the tension in his shoulders visible, and for a moment, guilt flickered across his face. he knew he’d been neglecting you, even unintentionally.

“i… i can’t just sit” he muttered, flipping another page, but you were already guiding him gently towards your bed.

“yes, you can,” you said softly “trust me. i know exactly what’s going to help you relax.”

he let his sharp, catlike eyes follow you carefully, narrowing slightly in curiosity. when you settled in front of him with your skincare bag open, ready to pamper him, he reached out before your hands could touch his face. he examined the creams, lotions, and serums in your hands with a careful, almost clinical interest.

“…okay” he muttered quietly after a long exhale, letting you proceed.

your fingers brushed against his cheeks first, and you saw the stiffness in his shoulders begin to melt almost immediately. his eyes softened as you worked, the corners of his mouth tugging just slightly upward. he didn’t say anything, not yet, but the way he leaned into your touch and closed his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, he let himself just be. you adjusted a strand of hair from his forehead, applied moisturizer in careful strokes, and slowly, gently, he felt the weight of his responsibilities lift, replaced by the quiet warmth of being cared for.

and though he would never admit it out loud, under your touch, baekjin was entirely, utterly at peace.

fin.

It was a cold day and you were both curled up on your couch watching some random drama he had put on. You'd noticed Baku rubbing his hands together periodically with that adorable frustrated expression he got when he was annoyed. 

You reached over to touch his hands and they were freezing, “Your hands are so cold.” 

“Well yeah, the heating in my house is so bad,” he grumbled, even though you both knew he just ran cold naturally.

Without really thinking about it, you grabbed his hands and guided them under your oversized sweater, pressing his palms against your warm stomach. “Better?”

Humin grinned and nodded, “Much better!” His thumbs traced small circles on your skin, and you tried to ignore the way it made your heart skip.

That innocent moment had somehow evolved into... this. Since then Humin's hands seemed to have claimed permanent residence under your shirts, hoodies, and sweaters. What had started as a simple solution to his cold hands had become his go-to comfort method.

What had started as something innocent had slowly become something much more intimate as time went on. You weren't even sure when it had shifted but soon enough, Humin had discovered that your chest was the perfect temperature for warming up his hands. Your stomach was no longer an option for him. 

You'd be lying on the couch together, his head on your shoulder while you scrolled through your phone, and his hands would automatically find their way under your shirt to cup your breasts. It wouldn’t always be in a sexual way, though you were very affected sometimes, but just for comfort. 

“Mmm, you're so warm here,” Baku would say, sleepily, his thumbs brushing over your nipples unconsciously. 

Sometimes he'd even massage them gently while you watched TV or he'd trace patterns on your skin, and also play with the lace of your bra until you were squirming beside him. He seemed to find some kind of peace in the action which was fine by you. But Humin had a big problem. The problem of not differentiating between “at home” and “literally anywhere else.”

It was fine when he did it at home. More than fine, actually. You'd grown to love the way he'd automatically slip his hands under your shirt when you cuddled on the couch, or how he'd sleepily reach for you in the morning. But gosh, Humin had absolutely zero sense of appropriate timing or location.

You'd lost count of how many times you'd had to grab his wrists and gently pull his hands away when you were out in public. At the grocery store when he got bored waiting in line. During study sessions at the library when he got restless. Even at cafes when he'd absent-mindedly reach for your chest while scrolling through his phone.

“Baku, no,” had become your most frequently used phrase and honestly, the worst part? He has no idea why you were stopping him. He’d give you these genuinely confused looks as if the middle of the campus quad was an appropriate place for his hands to be wandering under your clothes.

Today’s situation had been the most annoying though, which led to your final decision of banning his touches. 

You and Humin had decided to catch the latest action movie on a Friday night. The theater wasn’t packed, and you'd managed to snag seats in the back of a row, not really surrounded by other moviegoers. The previews were still playing when you felt Humin's familiar cold fingers slip under the hem of your sweater.

You didn't think anything of it at first as you were expecting his usual gentle touch on your stomach. The theater was dark enough, and you were tucked away in the corner where no one would notice. But his hands moved higher than usual, and instead of stopping at your bra like he did in public, his fingers slipped underneath the fabric to cup your bare breast.

You jumped so hard you nearly spilled your drink and a quiet gasp escaped your lips. 

“Humin.” you whispered angrily, grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand away. “What the hell?”

He looked genuinely confused, how annoying. “What? I wasn’t-”

“You can't just…” you took a deep breath “grab my boobs in a movie theater.”

“Why? There's barely anyone here. And I always touch you?”

Your eye twitched in frustration. You wanted to raise your voice to get your point across, but since you were in a movie theater, you just rolled your eyes and ignored him for the rest of the film.

-

After the movie was over you walked out in a tense silence. Humin kept trying to hold your hand, but you pulled away each time, still irritated. 

“Baby, come on,” he whined as you both got into his car. “What's the big deal? It's not like anyone saw anything.”

You turned to face him. “That's not the point, Baku! You can't just... feel me up in public. It's cringe and inappropriate!”

“But I always touch you,” he said, that same dumb confused expression on his face that made you want to kill him. “You’ve never minded before.”

“Because we were at home, Humin. At fucking home! Not in a movie theater, not at the grocery store, and not at the library!” You replied, turning your head to look out the window.

After a few minutes of silence Humin spoke, “Y/n. I’m sorry about touching you like that in public. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable but I did. I promise I won’t do it again.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and stared at Baku's apologetic face. His genuine remorse was clear, but you wanted to have a little fun with this. “I forgive you.”

Humin smiled and was about to say something until you said, “But I’m going to have to put you on restriction.”

“Restrict- what the fuck is that?” 

“Probation. You’re cut off. You’re not allowed to touch my boobs until you fully understand my frustration.” 

Humin's eyes widened in horror like you'd just told him the worse news of his life. Well, maybe this was the worst news of his life. “What? No! You can't do that to me!” 

“Well, I just did so…” You shrugged your shoulders, trying to ignore how his bottom lip was already starting to wobble. “Maybe this will teach you the difference between private and public spaces.”

The rest of the ride home was filled with Humin's dramatic sighs and protests.

“But what if my hands get cold?”

“Then you’ll wear gloves like a normal person.”

“What if I need comfort?”

“I don’t know, hug a pillow.”

“What if I can't sleep without touching you?”

"Then you'll be very tired."

“But I can’t survive without sucking them!” 

“Humin shut up!” 

By the time you reached his home, Humin looked like a kicked puppy. He followed you inside, hovering around you like that would change your mind. 

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” he sighed, throwing himself onto the couch, “I'm going to die. Actually die. From sadness.” 

“You're so dramatic,” you said, but you couldn't help but smile a little. 

“Dramatic? Would if I withheld my penis from you? How would you like that huh?” Baku whined then buried his face in a couch cushion and let out a muffled scream.

“What the fuck is actually wrong with you.” You responded. 

“Nothing is wrong with me! I just love you is all.” Baku said, finally looking up from the couch cushion. 

You laughed then sat next to him on the couch, slowly running your hands through his hair. He immediately leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. 

“So I can touch you now?” he mumbled, hope lacing his voice.

“No,” you said firmly, pulling your hand away.

“Goddammit woman!” 

-

So turns out Humin was the most dramatic person on the planet when he didn't get his way. He'd taken to wearing the most pathetic, sad expressions whenever you were around. He'd sigh heavily every few minutes, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

When you cuddled on the couch, he'd place his hands on your waist or shoulders, then let out pitiful sighs like he was being tortured.

Mind you, it was only Saturday. One day after his ban. 

“You're being ridiculous,” you told him when you caught him staring longingly at your chest.

“I'm not being ridiculous,” he muttered, but his pout suggested otherwise.

“You're pouting.”

“I don't pout.”

“You're literally pouting right now.”

By Tuesday his friends had started to notice his very… very unusual behavior.

“Dude, what's wrong with you?” Gotak asked during a group lunch, watching as Humin stabbed at his food with unnecessary aggression.

“Nothing's wrong with me,” Humin grumbled.

“You've been weird all day,” Juntae added. “You keep sighing and staring at Y/n like she kicked your puppy.”

“She might as well have,” Humin muttered under his breath.

You kicked him under the table. “Don't be dramatic.”

“I'm not being dramatic!”

Sieun leaned forward, “Did you two have a fight?”

“We didn't have a fight,” you said quickly, shooting Humin a warning look. “Baku is just being a baby about something completely reasonable.”

“I am not being a baby!”

“You cried yesterday because I wouldn't let you put your hands under my hoodie.”

“I didn't cry! My eyes were just... watery.”

Sieun, Juntae, and Gotak exchanged confused looks but let it go. 

By Wednesday, you were starting to feel a little bad for Humin. Not bad enough to lift his punishment, but bad enough that you were considering it..

You had just gotten back from classes and were in his bedroom changing into more comfortable clothes. Normally when you were at home you never wore a bra. It was just more comfortable that way. Humin had gotten so used to it that he barely even noticed anymore. Well, he noticed, but it was just normal for him.

But now, with him on probation, you realized this might be the perfect opportunity to mess with him just a little before ending his punishment. 

You put on a fitted shirt that showed every detail of your chest and some comfy shorts then walked into the living room where Humin was spread on the couch, still looking pitiful. Cute, but pitiful. 

“Hey,” you said casually, settling down next to him.

Humin looked over at you, and you watched in real time as his brain processed what he was seeing. His eyes went wide, then narrowed, then wide again.

“Y/n,” he said slowly.

“Hm?”

“Why did you even put on a shirt?”

You tilted your head, like you were confused, “What do you mean?” 

“I can see your tits through the shirt!” 

You looked down at your shirt innocently, as if you hadn't deliberately chosen the most fitted top you owned. “Can you? I didn't notice.”

Humin's jaw dropped. “You're doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what on purpose?” you asked, stretching your arms above your head in a stretch. The movement made your shirt ride up slightly and pull tighter across your chest.

Humin made a strangled noise. “You're evil. Actually evil.”

“I'm just wearing a shirt, baby,” you said, settling back against the couch. “It's not my fault you're... distracted.”

“Distracted?” His voice cracked slightly. “Y/n, you know exactly what you're doing to me right now.”

You turned to face him fully, watching as his eyes immediately dropped to your chest before snapping back up to your face. “What am I doing to you?”

“You're... you're…” He gestured helplessly at your shirt. 

“Use your words, baby,” you teased.

Humin let out a frustrated groan and buried his face in his hands. “You’re giving me blue balls!” 

“No I’m not!” 

“Yes, you are. You're the worst girlfriend ever.”

“Aw, that's not very nice,” you pouted, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should add another week to your punishment.”

“No!” Humin's head shot up, eyes wide with panic. “No, no, no. You're the best girlfriend ever. So beautiful  and funny. I love you so much.”

You laughed at his dramatic change in tune. “You're being very cute right now.”

For the next hour, you continued your torture. You'd lean over to grab the remote, giving him a perfect view down your shirt. You'd stretch, arch your back, and basically do everything you could to drive him crazy without actually letting him touch you. 

Thursday came and guys were having dinner with friends and they still had so many questions.

“Seriously dude, what is wrong with you? We tried to drop it last time but I can’t ignore it anymore” Gotak asked.

“Y/n's still being mean to me,” Humin mumbled.

“Stop lying to your friends.” 

“I’m not lying. You're torturing me!”

“How is she torturing you?” Gotak asked, looking between you two with confusion.

“She just…” Humin trailed off, clearly not wanting to explain the situation to his friends. “She's withholding affection.”

“Withholding affection?” Juntae pressed.

“Yeah, like... she won't let me…” Humin caught your warning glare and quickly changed course. “She won't let me hold her hand!”

His friends exchanged confused looks.

“You're being weird about hand holding?” Sieun asked slowly.

“Very weird,” Gotak agreed.

“I'm not weird! I just love holding her hand! And she's being stingy with the hand holding!”

You buried your face in your hands, torn between embarrassment and amusement at his terrible cover story.

“This is the weirdest conversation I've ever been part of,” Sieun said.

-

Later that evening, you were curled up on Humin's couch, still giggling about his ridiculous hand-holding excuse.

“Hand holding?” you said, holding in a giggle. “That's the best you could come up with?”

“I panicked!” Humin flopped down beside you dramatically. “I'm not good under pressure, okay? I just wanted them to stop asking questions.”

You laughed, and the sound made Humin's expression soften.

“I love your laugh,” he said quietly.

“Even when I'm laughing at you?”

“Especially then.”

You looked at him as the two of you cuddled on the couch. His hair was messy, his eyes were soft, and despite his dramatics, he looked genuinely happy just to be near you. 

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

“Sure.”

“Do you like it? When I touch you like that, I mean. Not in public obviously, but at home.”

You turned to look at him, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice. “Of course I like it. Why would you even ask that?”

“I don't know. This whole week made me think that maybe you just put up with it because you felt bad for me or because you felt like you had to or something.”

“Baku.” You shifted so you were facing him fully. “I love the way you touch me. I love that you find comfort in it. The only thing I don't love is when you try to do it in front of other people.”

Relief flooded his face. “Really?”

“Really. And you want to know a secret?” You leaned closer, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Sometimes when you're just holding me like that, playing with the lace on my bra or just touching me  gently. It drives me crazy.”

Humin's eyes darkened slightly. "Yeah?"

“Yeah. A good crazy. Like I can barely concentrate on whatever we're doing because all I can focus on is your hands.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, his grip on you tightening slightly. “You can't say things like that to me right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I've been thinking about touching you for six days straight and if you keep talking like that I'm going to lose my mind.”

You bit your lip, studying his face. His pupils were dilated and you could see the way he was holding himself back. It was actually pretty hot, seeing him like this.

“Well,” you said slowly, “I suppose you have been very good today.”

“Have I?” he asked hopefully.

“Mmhm. Very well behaved. Very respectfulish.” You traced a finger along his jawline, enjoying the way he shivered at the light touch. “I think you've learned your lesson.”

“I have. I definitely have. I'm a changed man.”

You laughed, “Okay. Your punishment is officially over.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Humin was kissing you, his hands immediately going to cup your face. It wasn't rushed or desperate like you'd expected, but slow, like he was savoring the moment.

When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too baby.” 

Humin grinned and leaned down to kiss your neck, his hands finally sliding under your shirt to rest on your waist. His touch was gentle and his hands were cold. The two of you shuffled so that you were sitting on his lap. 

“I want to see them,” he said, looking up at you with dark eyes. “Please?”

You nodded, and he carefully pushed your shirt up, his breath catching when you were revealed to him.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “You're so beautiful.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your chest, right over your heart, and you smoothed your fingers through his hair.

“Can I suck on them?” he asked, and the question was so direct and honest that you laughed.

“Of course baby.”

He didn't need to be told twice. His mouth latched onto your nipple, and the feeling made your back arch. He sucked gently at first, then with more pressure when you made a soft sound of approval.

“Missed this,” he mumbled against your skin, switching to your other breast. “Missed this so much.”

His free hand continued to knead and caress, and you got lost in the sensation. You missed this too. The way Humin touched you like you were his treasure, like you were his whole world.

“Feels good,” you breathed, and he hummed against your skin in response.

He took his time, switching between gentle kisses and firmer sucking, using his tongue to tease and his teeth to just barely graze your nipple. Your fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned at the sensation.

“Humin,” you gasped when he bit down a little harder.

“You like that?” he asked, looking up at you with dark eyes. “You like when I bite?”

“You know what I like.”

“I want you to say it,” he said, his thumb brushing over your other nipple. “Tell me everything you like.”

“I like when you bite,” you said breathlessly. “I like when you suck hard enough to leave marks. I like when you use your tongue to…oh!”

He'd taken your other nipple into his mouth while you were talking, sucking hard just like you'd described. Your words dissolved into soft moans as he worked you over with his mouth and hands.

“You're so sensitive,” he murmured, switching between your breasts. “So responsive. I could do this for hours.”

“Please,” you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Please what, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“I want... I want you to keep going. Don't stop.”

“I won't stop,” he promised, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. “I'm going to love every inch of you. I'm going to make up for every day I couldn't touch you.”

Humin flipped you on your back so that he was hovering above you. He took a moment to just look at you, “I can't believe you're mine,” he said, his voice full of awe.

“I'm yours,” you confirmed. “All yours.”

Humin smiled and took in your nipple in his mouth again, his hand trailing down to pull your pajama shorts off. 

“Baku,” you whimpered when he bit down gently on your nipple.

“Hm?”

Instead of answering with words, you took his hand and guided it down your body, past the waistband of your panties. He groaned when he felt how wet you were.

“All this for me?” he asked, his fingers starting to move in slow, teasing circles around your clit.

You nodded as you moaned loudly, sensitive from not being touched in a week. 

“So wet, Y/n.” He whispered, voice thick with desire. “So perfect like this. Falling apart for me.”

Your head tipped back against the couch cushions, a soft whimper escaping you. Humin kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then moved lower again to kiss the swell of your breast. 

His fingers slipped lower, circling your entrance but not pushing in, just teasing. You let out a sound of frustration, and he let out a low laugh. “Use your words, baby.”

“I want your fingers,” you whispered. “Inside me. Please.”

The moment you said it, he obliged, slowly sliding two fingers into your heat. You gasped and your back arched as your hands flew to grip his shoulders. “Fuck!”

Shh,” he murmured, curling his fingers just right. “Let me take care of you.”

He set a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you as his thumb found your clit again. Your body responded instantly—hips rocking, breath hitching, thighs trembling around his hand.

“That’s it,” he whispered, never taking his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. You always look so good when I’m touching you.”

You felt like you were going crazy, your body wasa over-aware of everything being said and done. “I’m close,” you breathed, barely able to speak. “Please, don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping,” he promised as his fingers pressed deeper into you. 

With a cry, you came hard around his fingers. Your body jerked as the wave crashed over you. Humin held you through your climax, his free hand stroking your thigh as he whispered praises into your skin.

He kissed your forehead. “You okay?”

“Yes but, It was so good.” You said as your body sunk deeper into the couch as you tried to catch your breath. 

Humin stayed close, his fingers slowly pulling out of you with gentle care. He brought his hand to his mouth, tasting you with a soft groan that made your thighs twitch.

Can’t believe I went a whole week without this,” he murmured, trailing kisses across your collarbone. “Lift your hips baby.” 

You lifted your hips and Humin tugged your now soaked panties down your legs. He ran his hands along your thighs, then leaned down to press kisses to the inside of each one then pressed a firm kiss to your clit. 

You gasped when his lips made contact with your core and a soft surprised moan caught in your throat. His tongue flicked over your clit in slow, deliberate strokes. He wasn’t rushing it. He was taking his time, savoring every reaction you gave him.

“Humin,” you breathed, voice already trembling again.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt through your whole body. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you open for him as he worked his tongue on the place you needed him the most. He’d always been good at this but now it felt like he was determined to remind you exactly how much you’d missed this week.

You reached for him, one hand fisting in his hair, and he groaned softly when you tugged. His tongue pressed harder and faster when your hips started to buck into his face, he paused and sucked your clit into his mouth.

You choked nearly jerking away, but his grip on your thighs tightened. “Stay still,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “Let me take care of you, baby. ”

Your head tipped back in pleasure. Your body burning with pleasure and your nerves buzzing. You could barely think. All you could do was feel. 

Humin kept going until your whole body was trembling and your moans were little whimpers. Your second orgasm hit stronger than the first, and you cried out in pleasure. 

After your orgasm Humin didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it, even sucking your clit. “You taste so good,” he murmured between licks. “I could do this for hours.”

Finally it was getting to be too much, you were moaning continuously and you were pushing weakly at his head, oversensitive and gasping.

“Too much,” you cried.

Humin finally let up and gave your clit one last soft kiss before lifting his head. His lips were slick, and there was a soft look in his eyes. “You’re unreal,” he whispered, brushing your hair away from your face. “So fucking pretty when you cum.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. He melted into the kiss and his hands slowly found there way back to your chest, thumbing at your nipples. 

“Humin, I need a break,” you said pulling away from the kiss.

“Of course baby. We don’t have to go all the way tonight.”

“No! I want to go all the way, I just need a breather.” You responded, kissing his lips. 

“Thats fine! Want to watch a movie?” 

You shook your head no and pointed to the obvious bulge in his pants, “I can help take the edge off until I’m ready.” 

“You don’t have to do that, I can wait. Or I can take care of it in the bathroom-”

“No! I want to do it.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice low, already affected.

You nodded slowly, “Let me take care of you, baby. You’ve been so patient.”

He swallowed hard, “You sure?”

“Very.” You kissed the corner of his mouth. 

He sat back as you shifted to the floor in front of him, pressing your palms to his thighs. His breathing was heavy as he watched you, and his hands rested awkwardly on his knees like he was trying not to grab you. You ran your fingers up his thighs, teasing the waistband of his sweats before tugging them down.

Humin helped you ease them off, his erection springing free. He looked painfully hard.

You leaned forward to kiss the tip, just a soft press of your lips, and he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck,” he muttered, head tipping back.

“And you call me sensitive.” 

When you finally took him in your mouth, his hips jerked up and he let out a string of curses. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good,” he groaned, his hands gripping the ends of the couch.

You hummed around him in response, taking him deeper. Every reaction made you want to give him more. 

You took your time with him, using your tongue and lips to drive him crazy. When you could tell he was getting close, you pulled back, ignoring his whimper of protest.

“You can’t come two times. You know that.” 

“But-”

“I’m ready, Humin.” You said, cutting off his protest. 

His breath hitched as you cupped him, wrapping your fingers gently around his length. You got up from your knees and placed yourself over his lap, slowly sinking down onto his length. Both of you moaned at the sensation, your eyes falling closed as you adjusted to the feeling of being filled.

“Fuck Y/n, you feel incredible,” Humin moaned, his hands going to your hips.

You started to move slowly, savoring the feeling of being connected to him like this. His hands roamed your body freely, stopping to cup your breasts as you rode him.

“So perfect,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “You're so damn perfect like this. Riding me. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, hm?” 

You leaned down, pressing your forehead to his, lips barely brushing his in a soft, lingering kiss, “Yes Humin, only you.” 

Slowly, you picked up your pace, riding him faster and clenching him in. You felt him deepen his grip and his breathing get uneven as you slid down and back up again. 

He pulled you down for another kiss, and the angle change made you both moan into each other's mouths. 

You slowed your pace, leaning forward to press your hands against his chest, grounding yourself. His lips found your neck, trailing soft, featherlight kisses.

“Touch yourself,” he requested breathlessly. “I want to watch you touch yourself while you ride me.” 

“Fuck Humin,” you said but did as he asked.  Your fingers found your clit as you continued to move on top of him and stimulation was almost too much. 

“That's it,” he encouraged, hands guiding your hips, “Keep going.” 

Your free hand tangled in his hair as you picked up momentum again. Your eyes locked and you moaned at the lustful look behind his. 

Your hands left his hair and he leaned down to take your breast into his mouth for the 100th time today. You felt yourself tipping over the edge and you couldn’t hold it anymore. 

“Humin,” you gasped

“I know, baby. I can feel you tightening around me. Let go for me.”

Humin pushed your hand away from your clit and replaced it with his hand. The stimulation from his fingers was all you needed. You came with a cry, your body clenched around him as your third orgasm hit. 

The feeling of you coming around him was enough to push Humin over the edge too, and he thrusted into you one last time before spilling his seed into you.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing heavily. His arms wrapped around you immediately, holding you close as you both came down from your high. 

For a moment, you stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, heartbeats slowing to match, skin sticky and warm. You were the one to break the silence, “Are you okay?” 

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one who came three times.”

You laughed, “Light work.” 

Humin smiled and kissed you softly. “We should probably shower.”

You yawned, “Probably.” 

“You’re not going to get off of me are you?” Humin asked.

“Nope.”

-

Yeon Sieun

He's a smart guy, he knows the process of menstruation and he doesn't see it as a bother at all, unlike most guys.

Each month, or few months depending on your cycle, he's there to help you out. His experience solely comes from biology textbooks and science classes.

His mother was barely in his life so his knowledge doesn't go beyond anything textual or factual. He doesn't need you to teach him anything further than what's common sense. The few things he doesn't understand, though, is exactly how painful your cramps get. He knows it hurts, he just doesn't physically know that it's that bad.

Simply put, he knows the basics. He doesn't make a big deal out of it, he expects you to be in pain, and he expects you to need a few necessities. He has whatever you need stocked up in his room for when you stay the night. He is locked in and insanely prepared.

What he wasn't prepared for, though. Was your overwhelming need to fuck him. Admittedly, a lot more than usual.

He always thought that he was the black cat in this relationship. He's so going to lose that title with the fact that you're practically in heat.

"Sieunnnn," you called out, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Laying on your stomach on top of his bed. Sieun sat on the floor, his back facing you as he tried to focus on the books in front of him. Pencil in hand, gripped tightly, on the verge of snapping.

Was it that you were ovulating? He had read about that process; the libido boost, the increase in body temperature. Beginning with your extrogen levels rising, causing your luteinising hormones to surge, and then your follicle ruptures and----

"Sieunnn." You called once again, seemingly much desperate this time. A grin stretched on your face. "Can you like, get your nerdy ass over here." You rolled on your back.

He held up a plain expression, trying his best to keep his breathing steady. He stared to the worksheet to his side. Burning holes through the questions that had been forgotten for over an hour.

"Just for a second." Pleading with your eyes, as if he could even see them. Though, you were sure that he could hear the tone in your voice. Hear the begging in your face. Smell the fucking heat between your thighs.

It wasn't until he heard the sigh of disappointment escape your lips.

"You're on your period.." he started.

"I'm aware." His shoulders tensed under your gaze. "Just come here and kiss me a bit."

The pen clicked lightly on top of his wooden table. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in deep breaths to prepare himself for how insanely insatiable you were. Placing a hand on where he sat, he moved is legs closer to you.

Without warning, he held your shoulders and laid you down on the mattress. The smugness was prevalent on your face. Straddling you between his legs.

You observed the way his eyes narrowed as it stared into yours. Hovering above you, he waited until your breathing was in sync.

He leaned in, relishing in the way your body instinctively leaned into him. As your lips met, your eyes fluttered shut, dilating behind your eyelids.

You wanted so badly to buck your hips up, meeting your clothed cunt with his own. The feeling sent shivers down your spine. Face heating up as you curled your arms around his neck.

Your mouth opened further apart from each other. His tongue creeping into it and meeting your own. His hand drifted to a steady grip on your waist, while his hips grinded further into you.

You parted first, needy for air. "I just meant a sweet little peck." You smiled, clutching his shoulders to keep you in the same position.

He only nodded. "Sure you did." Before diving in and devouring you once again.

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈

Ahn Suho

Suho is a very helpful man, whenever his beautiful girl would go through it every month, he'd be there and ready to rush to the store and grab whatever you need. And of course, he means grab, not buy.

Being a helpful man, He's certainly allowed to help his girlfriend relieve some stress, no? To make her stop hurting, don't you think?

He's such a sweet boyfriend. He'd give you massages whenever you'd feel sore. Make you some hot tea and the greatest pillow fort you've ever been in.

And that's all while he tries his best not to suggest the most obvious solution. The one that has been on his mind for so long ever since sex became a regular part of your relationship.

"Hiiii," he taunted from beside you. His hand folded in front of him as his chin rested on top. Mesmerised by the way you could so easily take on so much pain. (He's definitely the kind of guy to cry just because you're on your period. He means well).

During the span of an hour, you had asked him to buy some plain bone broth. Extra hot. Accompanied by a piping hot cup of tea. And a hot water bottle to put on your stomach. Plus one of those microwaveable plushie.

He admires to way you act so casual about it, how the excruciating pain is just pushed aside because you were already used to it. It definitely feels performative to say, but he's a firm believer of sympathy pains.

Seeing you thrash around while you tried to push the bottle deeper into your stomach-- to cut it open and place it inside your uterus, if you could.

It made his hurt ache.

You find it extremely adorable, and very interesting.

He found it devastating. Why are you in such a pain and he's allowed to just... relax? Because he's a guy?? How come you get all the pain just because you were born with a uterus? Oh, the horrors of gender inequality (he's getting there).

This led to him googling a very quick 'do orgasms help with period cramps?'

And when he's met with a 'yes, there's no need to avoid sexual activity during menstruation.'

He smiles, very wide. Chewing his lip as he moves his gaze back to you.

"Can I eat you out?" He says bluntly. Refusing to kick around the bush and straight to your remedy.

You blinked at him, "I'm bleeding."

"I don't mind." There was a playful hint in his voice. "It'll make your cramps go away, I promise." He waits until you nod. Running your fingers through his hair.

With your green light, he hurries to move your pajama pants down to your ankles. Met with your panties. Whether you wore a pad, or a tampon, or anything else. He shifts the fabric to the side, taking off what you were using as he looked at you once again in approval.

He didn't give a shit that the smell of iron filled his nose. He didn't care that there was blood in front of him. He really didn't care. He was only concerned about whether or not you felt good.

He licked a fat stripe from your folds to your clit. The blood piling up on his tongue. Whatever pleasure you were supposed to feel, you felt it tenfold. The heat in your stomach was hot as hell.

The sensitivity on your clit was high, the hormones getting much, much more intense as it gathered up in that bundle of nerves.

He closed in your clit and sucked. He was hell bent on making you cum over and over again.

He parted your lips and stuck his tongue inside, plunging in and out, and in and out. He curled the muscle up to the roof of your cunt.

And when you cum, you cum hard. Much more now that you were extra sensitive. Waves of pleasure washed over you. You were heaving on the bed, sweat pooling on your forehead.

"The... ohh-- the sheets, baby." You mumbled, fearing the stains on your bed.

"Eh." Suho shrugs his shoulders, the blood around in chin made him look like a fucking vampire. "I'll pay for it."

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈

Oh Beomseok

Has no idea what to do.

Beomseok grew up without anyone even remotely resembling a mother figure. He doesn't have the slightest clue on how to take care of you when you're on your period.

He runs from you for a while whenever you have a sudden change in your mood. When you snap at him fairly easily. You turn your head to him and that look on your face. Reminds him of... a lesser person that he knows. Because there's this teeny, tiny, quirky little thing that he has called trauma but you know, it's whatever.

"Do you.. need anything to eat?" He murmurs from besides you on the couch. His hands were placed on his lap, clammy and sweating. He had no idea what to do, he doesn't know how to make you feel better because he's never learned about it anymore.

For a while, whenever he saw you very obviously experiencing so much discomfort, he'd just stand around and not know what the hell he was supposed to do. He'd mostly just order one of your comfort foods and go on a marathon of whatever show you wanted to watch.

Again, because he's never experienced it, he didn't realise how bad mood swings can get.

You were sitting idly on the opposite end of the couch, a blanket draped over you as you clutched the hot pack closer to your stomach. You tried your best to just shove the annoyance back down to your stomach. Not wanting to lash out for no reason.

But everything was just overwhelming you. The pain, the scalding hot, the soreness everywhere in each of your limbs, and the guilt when you looked at Beomseok.

It seemed you stared at him for a minute too long. Taking in the way his back stiffened, straightening up his posture almost immediately. Picking on the edge of his fingernails.

"Do.. you need me to buy you anything?"

For the past hour it was just question after question. A few more questions after, and it seemed that you had finally snapped. "Oh my god, Beomseok!" The sudden outburst made him flinch backwards. Absolutely not liking the very horrifying picture of his father and his own outbursts.

In an instant, much like a snap of your fingers, you switched. Seeing the way he visibly shrunk under your gaze and twitchy eyebrows. Blinking back tears to not show you his vulnerability.

You took a deep breath, calming yourself down. "Sorry I'm just.." you wave your hand side to side. "Everything's just-- fuck!" Before you could move up to his side. You felt that familiar yet foreign pain on the very bottom of your stomach.

Your hands shot down to clutch on it. Eyes squeezed shut as you try to find a position where it would go away.

He moved himself to you, not knowing where to put his hands, he hovered them on top of you. "I-- are..- fuck.." Kneeling down in front of you, on your side. Concern was laced on his face.

"Please, is there a way I can help."

You felt even worse. "You can eat me out or something." You laughed-- tried to. If it didn't stab you.

You didn't expect for him to nod and inch to the waistband of your pants.

"Woah!" You shook your head in surprise. "I was kidding baby, you don't have to."

It was then his turn to shake his head. "No, please let me do this." You shifted yourself to sit upright on the cushion. Softly placing a hand on his head.

"There's blood all over."

He moved you to the hard floor beneath you, lying you down and lowering his head to the top of your pelvis.

"I'll clean up." He kisses your stomach, "I just want to help." He's eager, his eyes glossy and red. He moves to take off his glasses in preparation. Even though he loved it when his glasses fog up from diving in between your legs.

"Please." He whines, eyes twinkling up on you, watery and red.

You felt your lungs getting tighter. He starts to pull down your pants. Kissing along a trail on each inch of skin that shows. Before he reaches to the hem of your panties. Your pants pull up by your ankles.

He rubs his face directly onto your clothed pussy. Inhaling deeply at the insatiable scent of you.

"You'll feel so good, baby. I promise."

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈

Geum Seongje

This guy has no idea how to deal with you when you're on your period. He throws you a packet of chips and expects you to be able to deal with it yourself.

He doesn't want to assume that you're incompetent of taking care of yourself, especially because you've dealt with it for your entire life. He absolutely refuses to baby you because he sees that as cringe.

Also..

He's genuinely such a sadist that he just gets excited when he sees your blood. He's worried, obviously. But when you're on your period, he knows that you're fine. He sees blood, even sniffing the metallic whiff in the air gets him going.

It honestly throws you off a little bit. Everything is consensual, I mean-- there's always a little bit of blood and knives whenever the both of you fuck--- it's just the fact that he wants to get insanely down and dirty even though you're bleeding. It just a little bit weird is all.

He loves the mess. He brings in a smaller knife in bed, making small, superficial scars on your chest, your stomach, everywhere. He licks it up too. Always making a show of groaning loudly right after he has a taste.

He's technically a hematomaniac, but he likes to classify himself as an insane sadist. That's absolutely obsessed with you.

Obsessed with blood, he wants to consume as much as he can, especially from you. He sees it as the most intimate thing he could ever do. A connection. It's passionate. It's crazy.

You sat on your couch, laptop right on top of your thighs as you finished up your school work. Well, you tried. If it weren't for Seongje breathing down your fucking neck.

It doesn't seem to faze him at all that you'd give him side eyes nearly every second. Shoving him away ever so often if he gets too close.

You hadn't even gotten your period yet. You had speculated that it was coming soon, but assumed it'd come in five to six days time.

You were most definitely wrong.

"Can you move, I'm trying to focus." You grit through out teeth. Having to re-read the same sentence for the third time just because your attention kept on drifting to him.

He grins. "Angry, aren't ya?" Licking his lips as he sees your jaw clench in annoyance.

"Yeah, because you're literally distracting me." You groan, waving your hand to shove his face away from your neck.

"You sure it's not 'cause you're on that time of the month again?"

You throw a pillow at his direction. "It's because you're being a weirdo jerk."

His head ducked down, almost like he was trying to stiffen his laughter in. In a split second, he's moving your laptop onto the coffee table. Moving his hands to grab onto your hips. He shoves your pants down without warning. Causing you to yelp in surprise.

Shoving your panties to the side, he sneaks two fingers and pry your folds open. He then dips another finger into your hole.

It was only after he pulled it out and really looked at it. At the wet, red staining the first inch of his finger. Did his eyes lighten up immediately. He stretches his grin wider.

"What did I say?" Waving his hand in front of you, making a point to make sure that you saw it. "Told ya." Relishing in the way you looked down at him in surprise.

"What the hell.." you furrowed your eyebrows. "How the fuck did--"

"-- Did I know?" He placed his finger in his mouth. "mmmh" moaning at the way you tasted. "Fucking amazing. 'Cause I can fucking smell how desperate you are." He whispers, scrunching his nose at you.

"I wasn't even doing anythi---"

"Oh, but you did." He hovers closer. "You just had to taste so good."

-ˋˏ┈┈┈┈

Park Humin

Does way too much.

This guy over-exaggerates just to piss you off.

You'd casually tell him that you're on your period and in an instant, he's there by your side, rubbing your feet and kissing your shoulders. "Awwwwww, baby's on her period isn't she." And he's use that insanely annoying voice that you'd use if you were talking to a baby.

"Never fucking do that again." And then you'd laugh along with him.

He a hundred percent makes those "I know a way to help you out, heh..."

He'd always say it as a joke, but he knows that a very secret part of him wants to just slide into you while you're on your period.

For a while, he just chalks it up to morbid curiosity. A stupid little thought that he expected to pass.

'What if I got some weird ass blood on my dick lol' was how it started out. Accompanied by 'if I cum in her while she's on her period, would she get pregnant and then it would suddenly stop?'

He's not the brightest person, if you couldn't tell.

'How would it feel if I had sex with her while she's at her most sensitive?' Is how it ended up.

He thought it was just some weird fetish that he didn't want to look too deeply into, because what if it made you freak out. But if he were to think deeply into it. He'd say that what gets him so excited is the fact that you're just so.. vulnerable during your period, every touch would make you more and more sensitive.

Not to mention the absolute trust that you'd have to have in him. To trust that he won't hurt you.

It takes him a really long time to finally bring it up.

"Sooooooooo," he slowly stretches his arm around your shoulders. Before leaning against it to face you. "Wanna know a trick on how to get rid of those cramps?" He winks, biting the bottom of his lip.

"That's like, disgusting." It was more of an inside joke than anything. A monthly routine. He'd make such a scandalous comment you can't help but gasp and cross your hands on your chest. Maybe a small 'how dare you!'

He'd then follow up with some 'no it isn't don't you ever say that you're disgusting you're absolutely amazing and you have that pregnant-period-whatever glow!!!!!!!' Bullshit. And then you'd go back to fucking like rabbits after a week.

Not this time, it seems.

"I'm being serious." Face shifting to a very serious one in an instant. "Let me take away that pesky feeling." Batting his eyelashes at you like a dog. Pleading.

You stared at him in shock. Well no-- not quite. With the amount of times he has brought it up, you just assumed that something was up.

"Oh." You blinked. "Okay." You shrugged your shoulders.

He was definitely taken aback.

"Oh."

He practically crawls to go on top of you, an excited smile on his face. Pants growing heavier as he thinks about what he was to do.

"Well, if you insist."

Tglist

ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ ♬⋆.˚ PILLOWTALK - ZAYN (this fits too perfect, i HAD to) ᴺᵉˣᵗ ᵁᵖ ♬⋆.˚ Die For You - The Weeknd

Flip flops hitting against the living room floor, Baku practically bounces around as he flexes his muscles in every pose imaginable, the kind you'd see on a bodybuilding competition show. Turning this way and that way, he makes absolutely sure you're looking at exactly how pumped his biceps are. A big stupid smile sits on his face. The one Baku always wears whenever he's way too proud of himself.

“Beach bod, I know,” he nods agreeing with himself.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter, sitting on the edge of the couch, still wearing your pajamas.

Baku has yet again dragged you into one of his stupid impulsive plans. The kind you still can't quite predict or get the hang of even after three years of dating and now two months of being married to him.

And despite how stupid he can be, you don't regret saying yes at that altar for even a second. Because it's his stupidity, his endless fun, and that strange little spark he carries with him everywhere that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

On the outside and inside, Baku is exactly what you need in your life.

A big, intimidating, ridiculously strong husband with a personality that contradicts his appearance so powerfully it could give someone whiplash.

“Baby,” he pauses, pointing at his biceps. “these don’t happen by themselves. A lot of work went into them.”

You roll your eyes, but the smile gives you away before you can even stop it, and Baku catches it instantly, as he always does.

“You love me so bad,” he shrugs, completely unbothered, speaking as if it’s an obvious truth. “I love you more, my beautiful wife.”

You shake your head again, leaning back slightly as you watch him properly this time—watch that ridiculous, bright, effortless grin he wears when he’s proud of himself, when he’s proud of you, when he’s proud of the fact that you exist in the same sentence as him. The word wife never sits quietly in his mouth. He says it with weight, with certainty, with this almost childlike disbelief that it belongs to him to say.

Two months in.

Two. Whole. Months. In.

And Baku had been throwing the word “wife” around far too much. It still hasn’t fully settled into him. Every time he says it, there’s this flicker in his expression—something pleased, something excited, something that never quite gets tired of it. Hearing it. Saying it. Claiming it in the middle of ordinary moments just because he can.

‘My wife this, my wife that, my wife will, I gotta ask my wife,’ has slowly become its own habit with him, a rhythm of speech that follows him everywhere, said with the same fond certainty every time, as if he’s still getting used to the fact that you’re real, and you’re his, and he gets to say it out loud.

“Do we bring the castle one or the turtle one?” he asks so casually, holding up two sand building sets he’d bought from the toy store not long ago. A grown man, standing there like it’s the most normal decision in the world.

“Humin.”

“The castle one is a classic, we can build a big one, but the turtles are cute,” he continues, still genuinely weighing it as if it matters more than it should, turning them over in his hands while thinking out loud. “Let’s just bring both,” he says, not even giving it a second thought as he drops them into the oversized beach bag he’d packed, already stuffed with a few other stupid items.

A frisbee, water guns, floaties and snorkeling gear to apparently ‘just see what’s down there.’

His red swimming trunks hang at his hips, revealing the definition of his thigh muscles as he moves.

“Are you gonna get dressed or what?” he asks, walking over to the couch and reaching out to rest his palm flat on your head, gentle and casual, like you’re something small and cute to him.

“I can’t believe you genuinely convinced me to do this.”

“You’re so grumpy in the morning, y’know,” he smiles, ruffling your hair and earning a quick smack to his hand from you. It only makes his grin widen, like that was the reaction he wanted, before he goes right back to messing your hair again. Then he leans down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, a small apology for his childish antics.

Baku had convinced you to call in sick from work with him so the two of you could steal a beach date in the middle of a weekday. According to him, the world was at its best when everyone else was stuck in it and you weren’t.

“Everyone else is miserable right now, at work and school,” he says, nodding seriously at his own logic as if it’s the most undeniable fact, while his hands absentmindedly gather your hair, brushing it back before lifting it into two loose sections just to mess with you. “That means no screaming kids and no crowd. The beach is ours.”

A pause.

“Go get dressed, c’mon. It’s so nice out. Pleaseeee.”

You look up deadpan.

“You carry me to the car. I’m not wearing shoes.” You say it like it should make him reconsider, pushing just a little to see if he’ll back down.

It doesn’t work.

“On it madame!” a stupid salute follows.

“And you dust the sand off my feet when we leave.”

Again, no hope.

“Yes ma’am, at your service,” he says, bowing dramatically with zero hesitation, already fully committed to entertaining your spoiled tactics without a second thought.

“Now may you please get dressed your royal highness?”

And with a final defeated sigh, you push yourself up from the couch, palms pressing into the cushion for support. He smooths your hair down where he’d messed it up earlier, an easy smile on his face as he watches you for a moment.

“Catch ya later alligator!” Giving you a light smack to your ass. You roll your eyes not even phased. “God damn, that recoil always gets me,” he says dead serious, you hold back a laugh.

You disappear into the bedroom, the door closing behind you, and he lingers there a second longer before turning back to what he was doing.

“So cranky,” he murmured to himself with a grin.

He resumes packing. Two separate containers this time. One filled with your favorite chips, the other packed to the brim with freshly cut fruit, each piece carefully shaped into little hearts. Thoughtful in a way that almost feels playful, like he’s turned snack time into something meant to make you pause and smile before you even realize it.

Baku loved taking care of you in those small ways. Always finding quiet, unspoken gestures to make your day a little softer, a little brighter, without ever making it feel like a hassle.

“And sunscreen,” he says, almost to himself, already reaching for it. He makes sure it goes in the bag too, because he knows how much you care about your skin. Honestly, so does he.

The idea of you getting sunburned has his expression tightening for a second, like it’s not even worth risking. He doesn’t want you uncomfortable later, red and sore when the whole point of today is for you to enjoy it.

A few moments later you emerge from the bedroom, a simple pink bikini resting on you, tied neatly at your hips and high at your back. Nothing flashy, no patterns, no extra details. Just something plain and light, the kind of ordinary that somehow makes it stand out even more.

A sheer beach cover-up draped over your arm, a sun hat in your other hand as you step out, your hair cascading down your shoulders loosely. Beach ready without trying too hard.

Baku, who’s by the bags folding towels in, pauses the moment he sees you. His hands stop mid motion and his head tilts slightly as he just… looks at you. Eyes panning down your body as he takes in the sight before him. Mouth slightly parted in quiet adoration, like his brain lagged behind what his eyes just registered.

He stands up and walks over to you with that stupid little smile already on his face, like he’s made up his mind about what he wanted the second he saw you. His hands find your waist right away, familiar and warm, before he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck.

You look at him skeptically, a little confused at where the sudden wave of affection came from. Yeah, Baku was always clingy, always touchy. But this feels a bit out of nowhere.

“Is it the bikini?” you mutter, still getting kisses placed all over your face, neck, shoulders. His lips trail down your arm before he slows, finishing by pressing a soft kiss to your hand. Your hand looks so small compared to his rough bigger one, fitting perfectly against it.

“Nope,” he replies, still holding your hand close. “It’s you. The bikini’s just a bonus.”

Ha. He’s good.

Suddenly, your feet are no longer on the floor as he lifts you into his arms with no struggle at all, halting any further thoughts brewing in your brain.

“Humin!”

“Baby,” he replies simply, like he didn’t just steal your balance in one smooth motion.

“Put me down.”

“No, that’s not fun.”

“Humin.”

His grip is steady as your frame naturally curls into his, instinctively fitting against him while he carries you with ease. Like you weighed the same amount a pebble would. He walks toward the bedroom without rushing, unbothered, as if he has all the time in the world, before gently lowering you onto the mattress carefully.

The mattress dips between the combined weight of you two.

You barely have a second to react before he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Sweet, soft, and slow.

“What are you doi—” before you finish the question, he cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, his hand resting at your waist and moving in slow, reassuring strokes.

The kiss is gentle, deliberate, unhurried, like he’s trying to say everything at once without using any words. All that affection he’d been ‘holding back’ seems to settle into that single moment, especially the way he’s been looking at you since you walked out in that pretty pink bikini.

You press your palms flat against his chiseled chest, pushing back in a way that has no real force behind it, more for show than anything else. Like you want it to seem like you’re taking control of the moment, more mature than him somehow, even while you’re clearly melting into every kiss he gives you.

“Park Humin,” you say, trying for something threatening between breaths, though it doesn’t quite land the way you want it to.

Still, you kiss him back anyway, shamelessly, muscle memory taking over before you can think to stop it.

He just hums in response, completely unbothered, he heard you but didn’t feel even slightly compelled to stop.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says as he sits up on his knees between your legs, keeping them spread.

Already reaching for his swimming trunks so casually. His palm tightens around his hardened shaft through the material, giving it a firm squeeze while he looks down at you, completely natural, like he has no idea what he’s doing with his hand.

“You think?” you say, clearly sarcastic.

“Mm,” he hums, serious, not missing a beat. “I know, baby. You’re perfect. Stunning.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You say that to every woman in a bikini?”

His grin only widens. “Uh, hell no? Just my perfect wife.”

"Are you seriously hard?"

"Um, it'd be crazy if I wasn't," he replies like that ends it all.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re pretty.” His eyes drift over you again, completely shameless, palm still pressed against his outline kneading firmly, as if to give relief. “Everything about you.”

“Those lips,” he says, thumb brushing over them slowly, testing the softness with focus.

Imagining all the ways your pretty lips could look wrapped around his cock.

“Those eyes too, always looking at me like that. Just begging to be fucked.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me, sit on my face.”

You had a feeling he wasn’t joking. But you stay still.

His fingertips run down your neck, feeling you swallow beneath them as your heartbeat quickens slightly at his words.

His hand lingers as it moves, drifting down your shoulders with deliberate ease before settling at your waist, holding you there. You feel the skin of his calloused hands on you.

“And this perfect body,” he adds, voice lower now, almost amused at his own thoughts as his gaze drags over you again.

All the different positions he wanted to fuck you in right here, right now.

His hand drifts up, cupping your breast through the bikini fabric. Giving a gentle squeeze. “You make it kind of hard to think straight, you know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Park Humin.”

“What?” he asks innocently, though the stupid smile on his face says otherwise. “You asked.”

“I didn’t ask for a full review.”

“You didn’t have to.” He leans a little closer, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I was gonna give one anyway.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“Mm,” he nods thoughtfully. “And yet you’re laying there looking all pretty for me and letting it happen.”

He keeps taking you in anyway, eyes lingering over you again and again, quiet in that way he gets when he’s just… looking. In his eyes, you weren’t someone he ever got used to. You were someone closer to art in the highest sense of it, someone that stopped him for a second every time, no matter how familiar you already were.

A sight he never seemed to get enough of, no matter how often his gaze traced you, no matter how many times his mind tried to memorize every detail of you. It wasn’t even conscious anymore, the way he studied you, like his brain was trying to hold onto you in a way that went beyond seeing, just in case he ever had to. Ingraining every inch and curve of you into his memory.

“What happened to the beach?” you ask, raising your eyebrows from your position on the mattress, back pressed flush against it as you look up at Baku. You try a little too hard to avoid eye contact with what he’s doing with his hand. Still working over his outline. Searching for a bit of relief in his aching length.

“The beach is always there,” he replies easily, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not going anywhere. We can go whenever we want.”

His other hand keeps moving down your thigh in a slow, gentle way, way more focused on you than any plan he had.

Fingers skate over your bikini bottoms and feel the wetness slick against the sleek material of it.

A sigh escapes his mouth, his adams apple moving as his head tips slightly back before settling again, as if he’s trying to collect himself but failing miserably.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he asks, not expecting an answer, not really needing one either. He’s already somewhere else entirely, caught up in you. The way your body lies perfectly flush between the cream sheets of your shared bed, the fabric bunching softly around your skin. The bikini framing you just enough, revealing everything in quiet detail while still leaving little to the imagination, enough to make his focus falter.

“My wife is so pretty.”

“You know, you say wife too much.”

“Anyone with a wife like mine would,” he grins, as if the answer is obvious, already decided for him. You, just being you, is enough to make him look at you like you’re something he can’t help but show off.

“But not everyone’s as lucky as me,” he adds, softer this time, the grin settling into something quieter as he keeps his eyes on you, still a little caught in it all.

“Don’t move.”

Finding the strings of his trunks, his fingers tug at them, loosening them until it no longer sits properly together. His hand fists his bulge gently once again, then moves to the hem of his shorts, pulling down just a fraction, low enough to expose his tanned skin, before letting them rest there, never fully committing. Caught in that familiar space between need and teasing, the one he always seems to hover in.

He watches you the entire time, completely aware of where your attention drifts. The way your eyes settle on the v-line adoring his crotch below his stomach, following the lines there. The definition of his thighs. The barely visible veins that traced along his skin, climbing up his lower stomach with quiet intention, giving subtle shape and detail to him in a way that always caught your eye.

Small things you noticed without meaning to.

Especially when you were horny.

He doesn’t say anything about it, just lets you look, letting the moment sit there between you both without interruption.

Your hands skate over the lower stomach of your tanned, muscled husband, your touch moving across him with intention. His stomach shifts and dips beneath you in a quiet shudder, reacting instantly to even the lightest contact, as if your presence alone is enough to make him fully aware of every way you had control over him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m impressive,” his tone was proud, too proud. “That’s your husband, by the way.”

His hand finds yours and guides it down his body, making sure you feel every line of his build along the way.

“This is all yours,” he says.

He slows deliberately when your fingers reach his abs, holding you there just long enough to make a point of it, then glances at you with a small, satisfied smile when he notices the way your attention slips. He makes sure your fingers feel every dip and rise of his abs.

“Feel all of me,” he breathes as your hand moves lower, running over his hard shaft, the familiar firmness beneath your palm. Something primal flickers across his face as you touch it. You give it a gentle squeeze, earning a little groan. “God damn.”

It’s almost unfair how much he reacts to it. As though no amount of having you close could ever truly satisfy the part of him that needed more. As though he was doomed to crave your touch even after spending every day wrapped up in it.

Having you screaming his name last night wasn’t recent enough.

“Keep touching it and I’m gonna fuck you till you cry, I swear,” he says, sounding light enough to pass as a joke, but there’s a real edge of warning underneath it.

And despite that, you keep going.

His breathing grows a little uneven, not from anything dramatic, but from the simple fact that he lives for moments like these. He drinks them in greedily, surviving off your affection with the quiet desperation of a man who could spend a lifetime loved by you and still wake up wanting just one more touch.

“Mm, fuck baby, I love you.”

His hips begin moving on their own, working his cock gently against your palm.

His lips find your neck, lingering there before slowly tracing the path of your collarbone, each kiss carried with quiet devotion, as if he’s remembering you through touch alone.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to you.”

He moves across your shoulder blades, down your arm, pausing at your hand as if even the smallest part of you deserves to be acknowledged. His breath drifts over your skin between each moment, warm and uneven. Caught deeply in need.

“I want more of you like I’m starving,” he whispers between kisses. “I can’t get enough.”

Then lower, kisses scattered in no rush to finish, only to stay. Along your arms, your wrists, the quiet unnoticed lines of your body, even down your legs as if there isn’t a single part of you he could ever skip over.

“I’m all yours, you know that? You’re all I need.”

He takes his time with you, not as something to have, but something to adore, as though every inch of you is something he’s been searching for without knowing it.

“Humin…” is all you muster up as your husband practically worships your body.

“Don’t say my name, please, fuck— I’m already so hard it's painful...”

Taking his time, he retraces his way back up, kisses scattered in his wake until the final one comes crashing softly against your lips. His hand finds your waist immediately, pulling you flush against him with the kind of familiarity that had long since become a routine between you.

“I’d—" he exhales a sharp breath, "—lay my life down for you.”

And that he would. Genuinely.

He lingers there for a moment, unwilling to part completely, before finally pulling back just enough for his forehead to brush yours, his words falling in a whisper against your lips.

“You’ve really got me wrapped around your finger, huh? Did you cast a spell? Be honest,” he exhales a laugh. “I could worship your body all day, every day.”

You push him off and sit up, standing to fix your messed bikini.

“Well, we have plans, so not now.”

He catches your wrist before you can even make it to the mirror. Tight enough to halt any further movement.

“Baku—”

“Come here.”

He lets go just as quickly as he grabbed you, he already knows you’re not going far anyway.

You turn back around, arms crossed over your chest, trying to look annoyed while you take in the look on his face. That smile. That quiet, need in his eyes that he doesn’t bother hiding from you.

You still felt his devoted kisses lingering on your skin, the warmth of them settling in even after he’d stopped. The aftermath soft and reassuring, like a quiet reminder over how crazy your husband was about you.

“You’re being weird,” you say, rolling your eyes, but your mouth is betraying you a little.

His smile only widens. “I don’t care.”

“Humin.”

“Yeah?” he answers immediately, too calm for someone acting like this.

“We were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still sitting there?”

He leans back slightly, eyes not leaving you for even a second. “I need you.”

You pause. “Right now?”

“Right now.” A beat. Then, softer, almost like he’s testing you. “Shit, I’m so hard, baby. You’re being cruel,” he says dramatically brushing his hand over his face trying to hide his smile.

That alone makes something in your expression shift, the confidence slipping just enough for you to look down for half a second.

And your eyes confirm. He was indeed incredibly hard. Hard enough to where it looked like his length might burst out of the material of his trunks at any moment.

You try to step out, but your feet don’t quite cooperate the way you want them to, your whole stance giving you away.

He notices immediately.

Even while he’s sitting on the bed, he had you pinned down where he wanted you. Without moving a muscle.

“Stop making me wait,” he says, still smiling, voice lower now, more needy than demanding. “Please…”

And that “please” doesn’t feel like a request so much as it feels like him admitting defeat in the most unfair way possible.

You exhale, trying to hold onto your resolve, but it’s already gone.

“…You’re impossible,” you mutter, barely convincing yourself.

He just opens his arms a little, waiting.

And this time, you don’t make him wait for long. Immediately pinned onto the mattress underneath him once again.

“This—” he hooks a finger under the strap of your bikini, tugging it lightly before letting it snap back into place. “—is making me wanna watch my cum drip out of you.”

His voice is barely above a whisper.

“I’m waiting…”

And that was enough for him.

“Fuck the beach,” he declares, the matter is already settled and no force on earth is changing his mind. Leaning down without another thought, he litters your neck with kisses, the kind born purely out of need.

Not even ten minutes ago, he had been passionately defending his weekday beach philosophy. Now, with you beneath him in that pretty pink bikini, he looks perfectly willing to abandon every carefully packed towel and container.

Looking down, he noticed the damp patch on your bikini, perfectly centered between the outline of your lips. Giving it a light teasing smack, earning a wince from you, he whispered, “you little slut, you’re soaking through.”

He quickly undoes the bikini ties, urgency in his hands. His fingers brush over yours when you try to help, briefly lacing with your hand before pushing it away. He doesn’t want your help, he wants you laying there taking it all. All his need.

“No, let me.”

The bikini comes off, flung somewhere off to the side. His hands trace all your lines, taking you in, fully bare and on display beneath him.

The sheer white blinds filtered the morning sunlight, casting a soft glow over your trembling body. Your tits rose and fell with each desperate breath, the sensitive peaks hardening in the cool air. Your slit was wet, dripping even, the evidence of your need clear. He saw it all.

And there you are, still shy under his gaze, the same way you are every time, no matter how many times he’s seen you like this before. It never really changes. You still go quiet, still avoid his eyes, like it’s the first time all over again.

“Acting shy now?” he teases, running a finger over one of your nipples, kneading both of your tits in one of his bigger hands.

“I’ve seen you choke on my cock with a smile on your face, don’t be silly now.”

You swallow.

“Spread those legs for me, honey,” And immediately, you comply without even thinking about it. Not because you’re unaware of yourself, but because you know exactly who he is to you in that moment. Your husband knows what he’s doing, knows how to pull the right reactions out of you without even trying too hard. He knows how to make you feel good, in ways that settle under your skin.

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave his touch twenty four seven.

“Look at that…”

His fingers immediately graze your slit, drawing a small sigh out of you in reaction.

“Shit…” he exhales a shaken breath, cursing.

A soft slickness gathers at his fingertips immediately, coating them as he intently spreads it further. Making it messier on purpose.

“Soaked, aren’t you?” a light, but now wet, smack again. “This pussy knows how to welcome me, hm?”

You fail trying to bite back a sound at the feel of his fingers against your clit, the reaction slipping out before you can stop it. Your need for him settling in deeper.

Two fingers slip inside you slowly, walls clenching around them and arms hooking loosely around his neck.

“Are my fingers enough?”

You shake your head desperately.

"What do you need then, baby?"

"You know what I need, Humin," you murmur.

"Enlighten me."

"I need you inside me..."

He smiles down at you, tilting his head slightly as if he’s watching something he genuinely loves seeing. The way your expressions shift makes something in him settle.

He curls his fingers gently making you squeeze harder, a groan leaving his lips.

“Fuck, I can't keep up with this teasing shit,” he pulls his fingers out.

Pushing down his trunks, his cock springs free. The thick, veiny shape taps against his stomach as he finally settles it down. Gripping it in hand, slapping the tip lightly against your clit, making you gasp a little in response.

“Ah—“

Sharp and cool against your teeth.

“Ah,” he mimics you, mocking your gasp, and smiles. “Fuck, those sounds. Makes me wanna fuck you senseless till that’s all you are.”

He teases the tip lower, between your folds, his precum and your slickness working to make the movement addictive.

And it was in that moment that it wasn’t just the size of Humin hovering over you that stood out so starkly. It was his shaft resting against your thigh, thick and warm. His fingers alone seemed to take up so much space against you, your smaller frame swallowed so effortlessly beside his.

It had always been that way. From the way your hand disappeared in his, to how easily he gathered you into his arms. The contrast between you both never failed to leave a quiet flutter in your chest.

Especially in this position, the ceiling barely came into view past how wide his shoulders were, his frame taking up most of your sight without even trying.

“Mm,” he hums, focused on his tip probing at your entrance.

You brace yourself, eyes fixed on the sheer, thick weight of your husband’s cock—unforgiving, carved to fit only you, to split you open. Even after all these years, after countless nights together, that slow, burning stretch never gets anything less than overwhelming.

He pulls you right out of your thoughts as he glides his cock slow through your slick.

“You think this’ll all fit easy this time, baby? I’ll go real slow.”

At first, no response.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” his tone growing a touch firmer, enough to pull you back. “Eyes on me.”

His thumb brushes slowly over your bottom lip as he holds your jaw steady, his hand nearly swallowing your face, keeping you from looking away. The solid weight of his tip taps against your clit again, deliberate this time, and your breath catches sharp in your throat, your hips twitching up toward him on instinct.

“That’s a good girl, so eager, you just wanna be filled, don’t you?”

You nod. “Please.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the intent in his eyes.

“C’mon, baby. Stay with me,” he murmurs. “You gonna be good for me? Take it all?”

You nod again, subtle but immediate, an urgency slipping through the small motion anyway. Needing all of him despite the anticipated pain.

“Mm, keep those legs open for me,” he whispers. “Squeeze my arm if it gets too much, deal?”

You nod.

His tip presses soft and insistent, pushing slow against the tight fit.

“Breathe, baby, I won’t fucking fit otherwise.”

Your breath catches and shatters into a gasp, vision blurring at the edges where pain and pleasure bleed into one, too tangled to tell apart.

Despite how turned on you were, it was always a struggle. No amount of foreplay could allow a smooth sink.

“Humin—” his name slips from your mouth, vulnerable, like it’s the only thing you can reach for in the moment. As if saying it alone might ease the pain.

He leans down without a word and presses a kiss to your forehead, slow, staying there long enough for you to register it.

“I got you, baby,” he murmurs. “Just hold still. Breathe.”

He pushes deeper, the head sliding past that tight, resisting give, sinking in. Still barely a fraction of him. A low, wrecked groan pierces your ears from above, fingers digging hard into your hips.

“Oh, fuck— Good girl—“

His shaft was caught in a crushing yet addictive grip.

He freezes, hips stuttering like he’s forgotten how to move, a shaky, high whine catching in his throat. Resisting the impulse to close the distance. “Fuck—shit, baby, you’re so fucking tight. I can’t—shit, that feels good.”

Simultaneously, your back arches off the mattress with nowhere to go, hips pressed firmly down into it.

“No, fuck no, don’t move an inch.”

The pain isn’t damaging, but it lingers there all the same, enough to make your breath catch and your focus narrow. Your nails dig into his shoulders, holding on.

His thumb located your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles that coaxed your soaked heat to stretch wider. You fought to accommodate his thick length, muscles trembling as your body slowly made room. It worked—for a moment—two more inches of him sliding deep inside before his girth hit that familiar resistance again.

“Oh, fuck— Mhm, that’s it,” he immediately praises you, voice coming out barely there.

“Mm— you’re gripping me so fucking tight, what the fuck. Are you trying to cut my dick in half?” A laugh slips from his chest, because apparently Baku’s nonsense always had to make an appearance. Even while he was busy stretching you open.

A small, broken sound slips from your mouth, followed by a whine as your eyes well up, tears spilling over before you can stop them and tracking down your flushed cheeks. Your vision turns hazy, everything blurring at the edges for a moment.

“It’s okay. Cry all you want, princess,” followed by a groan. “We got all day.”

He looks down immediately, focus snapping to you, watching your face closely, making sure you’re okay. Your gaze never leaves each other as he watches you struggle to take him.

“Humin…” you cry out. “Too much…”

“I know, baby, I know,” he says, low and even, like he’s trying to calm the air around you with his voice alone. Wiping your tears away carefully. “You’re doing good. So good. Just a bit more, okay? Should I keep going?”

You nod.

Despite the cruelty of your deep scratches raking his broad shoulders, the moment your hand slips, he finds it and drapes it right back in place. He doesn’t even acknowledge the sting, only adjusts you gently as if your comfort outweighs everything else.

“Scratch all you want, it’s okay, baby.”

He pushes your thighs back, his thumbs keep tracing slow, soothing circles, coaxing a few more inches in until he’s more than halfway buried inside.

You shift forward instinctively, trying to push through and take more at once, “Shit—“ he whines, immediately guiding you back with a firm hand, keeping you from rushing.

“Be patient baby, don’t hurt yourself,” he whispers despite how badly he wanted to sink in your fucking guts. “I’ll give all of it to you.”

A whine slips from your mouth again, sharper this time, born out of frustration and impatience. He reacts instantly, hand tangling in your hair, a firm pull draws a startled gasp from you.

“You’re being an impatient little slut right now, hm?”

An answer wasn’t even needed, but you nod anyway, mindless and needy in the way that just gives you away. Your hand finds his forearm where he’s holding your hair, gripping on. But not squeezing like he told you to.

“Want the rest?”

You nod eagerly.

And that was all he needed. With a low breath leaving his chest, he finally committed, guiding the motion through. His hands settled firmly at your hips, grounding you against one final, yet still gentle, thrust, sinking in till he bottoms out.

“That’s it—“ he groans softly. Hips staggering for a moment.

A gasp tears from your throat as your back arches further, as though something deep inside you had seized control for a moment and left you helpless to anything but the feeling.

“Mmhm, Humin—” you whine, the words barely making it out, your voice so faint it almost disappears altogether. “I cant—“

Your body betraying the very words falling from your lips, giving in despite yourself, taking all of it as though it had long since made up its mind before you ever could.

“Fucking hell…” He groans as he feels you completely engulf his cock. Gripping like your life depended on keeping him buried inside you. Adjusting to his size till he could comfortably move.

“Oh, no? You can’t?” A smile tugs at his lips, almost teasing as he looks at you like he already knows the answer. “But you are. You’re doing it so good—if only you could see what I’m seeing.”

He looks down, already rocking his hips into you, the pace agonizingly slow, yet somehow you could feel him everywhere, his presence settling into every part of you until there was nowhere your mind could wander but back to him. Feeling the head of his wet shaft settling in your uterus.

“Taking it like a good girl. It’s sliding in smoother than you’d think,” he teases. “You’re fucking taking it like you wanna get pregnant.”

Your breath hitches.

“Do you, baby?” He whispers, your eyes finally locking again.

“Mmhm…”

"Need a very clear answer," he repeated, his hand gripping your jaw firmly as he delivered a series of light, open handed smacks to your face. Teasing your sensitive skin. The sound echoed in the quiet room, soft but demanding. "You wanna be a mommy? Have my baby?”

“Mmh— yeah…”

“Yeah?”

“I do…”

“Y’want me to cum inside you, that it?”

You didn't respond—your mind too full of the weight of his question. Embarrassment burned hot on your cheeks even as you laid naked on the edge of the table, your legs already spread wide for him, your wet slit on display below and full of him. The contrast of your coyness and the filthy position you'd let him put you in was stark.

Earning you a sharper smack to the cheek, leaving behind a warm red mark.

“Answer me.”

“Shit— Mmhmm—“ A whimper escapes loose as his wet strokes ruin you further.

“Mmhmm shit mmhm…” he mocks, still thrusting deep into your guts. Purposely. “Words, silly. Heard’ve them?”

“Please— please cum inside me— Make me— fuck— make me a mom…”

His smile widened in satisfaction as he gently brushed your hair behind your ear—a gesture so tender it clashed with the nasty way he was fucking you—and then smacked your cheek again, not hard enough to hurt this time but hard enough to make you clench around his cock.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“You're so beyond beautiful.”

His voice comes out rougher at the edges, attention locked in on the spot your core swallowed him whole, like he can’t quite look away, completely caught up in you in a way he doesn’t try hiding.

“What a sight, fuck. Soaking the fucking sheets, you’re making a mess.”

His thumb pulls your lips apart, a thick string of saliva settling right between your folds where you connected, rubbing it in, making it all the more messy.

Fingers finding your clit and working you.

Your thighs give a weak pathetic twitch and he keeps going, pushing you to overstimulation as his tip was already abusing your cervix just doubling down on the pleasure.

“It's— shit, please... too much—” you gasp out pathetically, attempting to push his hand away, fighting your own orgasm.

Your words tumble over each other into a broken whimper. Barely able to catch your breath, let alone string together a proper sentence.

"Squeeze my arm then, go on."

Nothing. No squeeze. But you double down on your protests.

"I can't—" as if reaching the edge felt too overwhelming but you still wanted to be pushed over it.

“Oh, but you will, cum all over me,” despite your attempts to push his hand, he kept going. Thumb pad pressed stubbornly against your clit. Making you gush all over his lower abs, soaking the sheets and his cock with your aftermath.

He presses the words out through grit teeth, voice rough and thick with heat as he keeps his pace up, “That's it, baby, see? Such a good girl, so pretty.”

Despite the wrecked sweaty state you were in.

The obscene, wet squelching echoes off the bedroom walls every time his hips sink deep, each hard thrust deliberately driven to drag that loud, sticky sound out. He holds your hips tighter, chasing it, chasing the proof of just how soaked and messy you are for him.

“Someone’s been—,” squelch. “needin’ this, hm?” squelch squelch. “God damn, jus’ listen to that.” squelch.

Your tears were already soaking the cream sheets by your head as you pushed back on his lower stomach. To no avail, it doesn’t work slowing him down.

Only encouraging him. Pulling your hand up to kiss it.

“Uh uh, what’s the matter? Can’t take it?” He breathes, your ankles now draped over his shoulders. A sight you could never quite get enough of, the way your husband’s broad, sun-warmed shoulders offered the perfect resting place for your feet without a single word needed between you. “You were acting like a cock hungry whore not long ago.”

“You’re taking this pounding, baby. I haven’t cum yet.”

He shoves your legs back hard until your knees practically brush your chest, folding you open just how he wants, and drives deep from above. His breath catches, sharp warm puffs against your neck, and you feel his cock throb weak inside you.

Bear hugging you right into him while simultaneously fucking you further into the mattress, close enough you felt his groans and breaths caress your ears.

"Mm, fuck,” his tone was shrill, closer to the edge. “You feel fucking good—“

Your tits pressed firmly against his chest, brushing into him with each thrust. A thin sheen of sweat coated your bodies where you were pressed together from neck to hips.

“I’m gonna cum inside,” he whispers, “baby… that okay?” leaning slightly back, but still hugging you close.

His gaze stays on you, heavy lidded, caught in a way that makes it feel like he’s not fully thinking straight anymore, just drunk on you. He asks it again, softer, as if he didn’t already get you to admit you wanted his seed deep inside you.

“Mm, yeah…” you nod weakly.

“Yeah…?” he echoes back even weaker. “Fuck, I love you…”

He found your lips in a sloppy, desperate kiss, pushing every ragged breath and broken grunt into your mouth like he needed you to swallow his noises whole.

Saliva slicked both your lips as his breathing grew uneven, hitched, until suddenly his hips bucked erratically and his whole body trembled on top of you, a shudder running through his frame.

The kiss broke only for him to bury his face in your neck, muffling his broken groans against your skin as his cock continued to twitch. Strokes noticeably sloppy, with each pass becoming significantly less rhythmic, less coordinated.

“Feels good…” you continue, pleading, “please don’t stop…”

“Mmhm…” is all he manages. A weak attempt at proving that he was still present. But he was already slipping away. With a final thrust that completely ended him.

His body went rigid as he came inside you with a desperate, shuddering eruption, his cock pulsing deeply as he emptied himself completely.

A softened gasp overtook you. Your body trembling against the sheets.

“Baby, fuck— shit, shit, so good— you feel so fucking— good—“ his voice came out hoarse and whiney. “Please— don’t move, jus’ take all of it… All of my cum…”

“Oh, g–god—“ an incoherent string of moans and words tore from your mouth.

Finally, with a last weak leak, he collapses forward, catching himself instantly on one arm so he doesn’t fall fully onto you, saving you from being crushed beneath him.

He catches his breath before looking at you, leaning in just enough to press a soft, tired kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, baby.”

Your chest rises and falls in uneven breaths as you try to settle back into yourself, the world slowly catching up again.

He lets out a weak laugh, shaking his head slightly. Barely even able to breathe, but still talking. “What, no ‘I love you back’? That’s cold.”

Sweat dampened his forehead and entire body.

“I love you…” you manage, barely getting it out.

“I know, baby,” he says immediately, still smiling as he brushes his thumb over your cheek, wiping mascara smudges. “I was kidding. Just breathe.”

Still buried deep inside you and partially soft. Peppering your sweat damp skin with small, appreciative kisses, slow and absent of hurry, adoring you in a way that feels completely natural. Like you deserve.

“You okay, princess?”

You nod—delicate, but still there.

“Y’know you’re pretty cute when you’re like this,” he smiles, fully serious, but with that teasing edge in his tone. “Gives you a glow… like an afterglow—is that what it’s called?”

“Oh, shush,” you mumble, trying to hide your face as you shift under him. Feeling the aftermath of his undoing against your walls. Plugged up and still inside.

He laughs right away, light and easy. “What? I’m being observant. It’s important work.”

“It’s not work.”

“It is,” he insists, nodding like that settles it. “Someone has to study these things. I’m basically helping science right now.”

You let out a small sigh, but you’re smiling anyway.

“Oh—there it is,” he points at you, way too pleased with himself. “That smile again. I was right.”

“You’re insufferable,” you say, but it comes out soft.

“And yet,” he says, unbothered, shifting closer, giving your forehead a kiss, “you’re still here listening to me.”

“That’s because you won’t shut up.”

“False,” he corrects immediately. “It’s because I’m charming.”

You roll your eyes.

He grins wider. “See? You’re doing it again. Cute.”

A pause. Neither of you say anything, just bask in each other’s warmth, a comfortable silence settling, until Baku breaks it—

“Still up for the beach?”

── .✦ PART TWO LINK

© geumnana ― 𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚