#whcedit

The door to YN's apartment slammed shut behind them, the bang echoing like a gunshot down the narrow hallway. Seongje winced as he shrugged off his jacket, the fresh bandages on his knuckles pulling tight against his skin.

His left arm throbbed where the nurse at the police station clinic had jabbed the tetanus shot into him that very night, a sharp, insistent ache radiating from the injection site all the way up to his shoulder.

The fight had been idiotic, and he knew it. Some drunk at the restaurant, where he'd been grabbing a bite while waiting for YN to get off work, had bumped into him way more times than any sober person would excuse. Words had flown before he could even think twice, and three punches later, he'd won. But not without a split lip and a girlfriend who was absolutely furious, hauling him out of the station like he was a kid about to get grounded for bombing a test.

YN stormed ahead, her sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor as she kicked them off in the living room. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, stray strands escaping like they were trying to flee the storm. She was still in her work clothes: a simple black blouse tucked into high-waisted jeans that hugged her curves just enough to make Seongje's eyes linger, even now, when he should have been paying attention to the rage boiling in hers.

Those eyes, usually soft and playful when they met his, were now narrowed into pure fury.

"You're a complete idiot," she hissed, whirling around to face him. Her hands planted on her hips, accentuating the flare of her waist. "What the hell were you thinking, Seongje? Punching some random asshole in a cheap restaurant? You're nineteen, not fifteen!"

Seongje leaned against the wall, crossing his arms carefully to avoid pressing the sore spot on his bicep. He watched her, the way her chest rose and fell with each heated breath, the flush creeping up her neck. Part of him, the sensible part, knew he deserved every word. But the other part, the one that loved riling her up, itched to see how far he could push it.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, split and stinging as it stretched.

"I'm fine, baby. Just a scratch," he said, gesturing vaguely at the gauze taped to his knuckles, the white stark against his tanned skin. "And hey, I won. That guy's probably sitting there right now with a broken nose and crying about it."

Her laugh was sharp, devoid of any humor. She closed the distance in two strides, jabbing a finger into his chest. "A scratch? You got a tetanus shot, Seongje! Do you have any idea how serious that is? He nearly ripped your hand off with some rusty pipe he pulled out of who-knows-where, and you're grinning like it's a trophy." Her voice cracked on the last word, betraying the worry simmering beneath the anger.

She'd rushed to the station, ditching work after his casual text: "Hey, babe, might need a ride. Nothing big." But she'd spent the entire drive home gripping the steering wheel like it was his neck.

He uncrossed his arms, reaching out to catch her wrist gently. His fingers wrapped around her slim forearm, thumb brushing the rapid pulse there. "Come on, it was nothing. The doc said I'm good. Just a little banged up."

To prove it, he flexed his left arm, the muscle bunching under his sleeve. The movement sent a fresh spike of pain through the injection site, but he bit back the wince, holding her gaze with that infuriating cocky tilt of his head.

YN yanked her hand free, her eyes flashing. "Banged up? Is that what you're calling it? You could've gotten an infection, or worse. What if that pipe was contaminated? What if you end up in the ER tomorrow with tetanus or some shit?"

She paced again, gesturing wildly with her hands like she could shove some common sense into him. The soft lamp light caught the curve of her jaw, the way her lips pressed into a thin line. Seongje had always loved that mouth, full and expressive, quick to curl into a smile or, like now, twist into disapproval that set his blood on fire.

He pushed off the wall, shadowing her steps. "YN, baby, relax. I'm right here, aren't I? I just wanted to see you." His voice dropped lower, laced with that gravelly edge he knew she secretly loved. He stepped closer, invading her space, his body heat cutting through the chill she'd been giving off since they left the station.

She stopped dead, turning to face him fully. Up close, he could see the faint shadows of exhaustion under her eyes: a long day at the office, capped off by this mess he'd caused. "See me? You texted me like it was a goddamn paper cut, Seongje." Her breath hitched, and she shoved his chest again, harder this time.

Her palms connected with the firm plane of his pecs, the force rocking him back half a step. But he didn't give much ground; at 6'1" and built from years of gym time and street scraps, he was a solid wall of muscle and bone.

The shove lit something in him, a low chuckle rumbled from his chest, unbidden. It started as a huff, but grew as he watched her face shift from anger to sheer disbelief.

"Are you laughing, you moron? Seriously? After I spent almost two hours not just worried you'd pick up some infection, but also listening to them read you the riot act on laws you should know by heart by now?"

The laugh broke free then, his shoulders shaking as he clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The sound filled the room, rich and unrestrained. Seongje's eyes crinkled at the corners, tears of mirth gathering as he pictured it from her side: her, in her sensible work flats, bursting into the station demanding answers and why only he got hauled in, while he sat there sheepish and shirtless, letting some frazzled nurse jab him with needles and slather on ointment he'd probably wash off in a long shower later.

"Stop it," she snapped, but her voice wavered, caught between rage and the sheer absurdity. She shoved him again, both hands this time, aiming for his shoulders.

He staggered back a step, still laughing, head thrown back to bare the strong column of his throat. The sound was infectious in its stupidity, and it only stoked her fire.

"You think this is funny? Do you know there's no cure for tetanus, you idiot?" Another shove, this one landing on his collarbone. Her nails dug in slightly through his shirt, a bite of pain that hitched his laughter.

"God, your face in the waiting room: 'Nurse, is he gonna die?'" He mimicked her perfectly, exaggerating the panic, and that was it. YN's eyes blazed, and she swung a fist, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make her point. It connected with his upper arm, the uninjured one.

"Ow! hey!" He half-laughed, half-grunted, catching her wrist mid-swing for the next. But she twisted free, her other hand coming up in a playful jab to his ribs.

It wasn't a real fight; her hits were light, frustrated taps born more of exasperation than violence. Still, each one landed with a faint sting on his skin.

"You're such an asshole," she growled, punctuating the words with another punch to his shoulder. This one glanced off his deltoid, her fist curling slightly on impact, fingers splaying against the warmth of his skin.

Seongje's laughter faltered into a wheeze as he backed up, hands raised in mock surrender, but his feet carried him toward the bedroom door instead of away.

"Truce, truce! Come on, my love, you're gonna hurt yourself." He was grinning now, teeth flashing white against the dried blood on his lip.

She advanced, him retreating with exaggerated stumbles. She swung again, a feint at his chest that he dodged, only for her to pivot and land a solid smack on his bicep. The sore one. Pain lanced through him, hot and electric, but it twisted into something else as her body pressed close in the tussle, her breasts brushing his arm, her thigh nudging his hip.

He yelped, for real this time, his hand flying to the spot. "Fuck, that's the shot arm, YN!"

"Good!" she shot back, but there was a gleam in her eye now, the anger cracking into something wilder. She grabbed his shirt collar, yanking him down to her level. Their faces were inches apart, breaths mingling, hers ragged from the effort, his laced with that stupid laugh still bubbling in his chest. "Maybe a little pain will knock some sense into that head of yours."

Seongje's free hand came up, cupping the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the shell of her ear. "Or maybe it'll just make me want you more." His voice was rough, the words a challenge.

He pulled her in, crashing his mouth against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and urgency. She resisted for a heartbeat,muttering curses against his lips, then melted, her fists unclenching to fist in his hair instead.

The kiss deepened, tongues tangling in a messy fight for dominance. YN bit his lower lip, hard enough to reopen the split, and he groaned into her mouth, the coppery taste of blood mixing with the mint of her gum.

She pushed him backward through the bedroom door, the wood creaking as it swung open. The room was a soft chaos: unmade bed with rumpled white sheets, jackets and shirts from the night before slung over the headboard, backpacks tossed on the floor.

They stumbled over the threshold, Seongje's calves hitting the edge of the mattress. He went down first, pulling her with him in a tangle of limbs. She landed straddling his hips, her knees bracketing his thighs, her weight sinking him into the give of the bed.

The mattress dipped under them. YN broke the kiss to glare down at him, her hair falling forward like a curtain, framing her flushed face. Strands stuck to her damp forehead, and her blouse had come untucked, exposing a sliver of toned midriff.

"You're still an idiot," she murmured, but her hands were already working the buttons of his shirt, fingers nimble and insistent. One by one, they popped free, revealing the expanse of his chest, smooth, golden skin marred by faint purple bruises blooming along his ribs from the fight.

She traced one with her nail, light enough to tease, hard enough to make him twitch.

Seongje's hands settled on her hips, thumbs circling the denim at her waistband. He arched up, nipping at her jaw, the scrape of his stubble rasping against her skin.

She rocked against him once, deliberate, feeling the hard line of his arousal straining against his jeans. "Shut up," she ordered, shoving his shirt open fully. Her palms flattened against his pecs, pushing him back down as she leaned in to drag her lips along his collarbone.

She sucked a mark there, blooming red against the tan, her teeth grazing just enough to draw a sharp inhale from him. Seongje's fingers dug into her hips, guiding her grind, but she swatted his hand away.

She sat back, yanking her blouse over her head in one quick motion. It fluttered to the floor, forgotten, leaving her in a simple black bra that cupped her breasts perfectly. Seongje's eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as he drank her in, his chest rising faster. "Fuck, YN…" he breathed, reaching up to trace the strap slipping down her shoulder.

She caught his wrist, the left one, and pinned it above his head, her grip firm around the forearm inches from the tender injection site.

He froze, a jolt of pain sparking where her fingers pressed, but it mingled with the heat pooling low in his gut. "No touching," she commanded, her voice husky. "You don't get to call the shots after tonight's bullshit."

His laugh was breathy, edged with a wince as she squeezed experimentally. "Bossy. I like it." But the words cut off into a hiss when she twisted slightly, her nails digging into the muscle.

The tetanus spot burned like fire, a deep ache that throbbed with every pulse of his heartbeat. Yet, as dirty as it sounded, it sharpened everything, the slide of her thighs against his, the weight of her on his hips, the way her free hand trailed down his abs, nails scraping lightly over the ridges.

YN released his wrist only to shove at his shoulders, forcing his other arm up too. She held both now, her smaller hands bracketing his wrists against the headboard. The position left him stretched out, vulnerable, his shirt hanging open like a flag of surrender. She leaned down, her hair brushing his chest as she kissed a path from his sternum to his navel.

Seongje bucked up involuntarily, seeking friction, but she pressed her hips down hard, pinning him still.

"Patience," she murmured against his skin, her breath hot. Her teeth grazed the waistband of his jeans, nipping at the skin just above. He groaned, head falling back, the cords of his neck standing out in stark relief.

Laughter bubbled up again, a defense against the overload, nerves firing from pain and pleasure in equal measure. "This is… torture…"

"It is." She popped the button of his jeans, the zipper rasping down slowly, deliberately. Her hand slipped inside, palming him through his boxers, the heat of her touch searing. He was hard, achingly so, the fabric damp with pre-cum. She stroked once, firm and unhurried, thumb circling the head through the cotton.

Seongje's hips jerked, a strangled laugh escaping as pain lanced through his arm from her unyielding grip.

"YN… shit, easy on the arm." His voice cracked, half plea, half tease. She glanced up, meeting his gaze, her own eyes smoldering with a mix of triumph and lust. The string lights hung on one wall danced across her skin, casting shadows on the curve of her cheek, gilding the swell of her parted lips on a breath.

"Make me." She squeezed his wrists tighter, her thumbs pressing into his biceps. A burn made him squeeze his eyes shut, head turning from the sensation.

But he laughed through it, raw and broken, his body arching into her touch even as he hissed.

"You're insane," he managed, but his free leg hooked around her calf, pulling her closer. YN's hand freed him then, shoving his jeans and boxers down his thighs in one rough tug. He kicked them off awkwardly, the fabric pooling at the foot of the bed. Exposed now, his cock sprang up, thick and flushed, curving toward his navel.

She wrapped her fingers around the base, stroking slow from root to tip, her grip twisting just so at the head. Seongje's breath came in pants, laughter fading into moans as she pumped him lazily.

"Fuck… YN, please…" His arms strained against her hold, muscles flexing, but she didn't relent, her knees digging into the mattress on either side of his hips to keep leverage.

"Please what?" She leaned down, her breasts brushing his chest through her bra, nipples hard peaks against the lace. Her lips hovered over his, not quite touching, teasing. She stroked him again, faster this time, her thumb smearing the wetness over his length.

"Ride me. God, just, fuck me." The words tumbled out desperate, his hips canting up into her fist.

YN's smile was wicked.

She released him abruptly, the loss of contact drawing a whine from him,a low, needy sound he'd cringe at later. But now, she shifted back, rising on her knees to shimmy out of her jeans. The denim peeled away slowly, revealing inch after inch of smooth thighs, the black lace panties that matched her bra. She tossed them aside, then hooked her thumbs in the waistband, sliding them down with agonizing slowness.

Naked from the waist down, she settled back over him, her core brushing the length of his cock. Wet heat, slick and ready, making him throb against her folds.

Seongje's eyes locked on the sight, her, poised above him, skin glowing, her thighs glistening faintly. "You're so fucking beautiful…" he murmured, voice thick.

She didn't respond with words. Instead, she gripped his wrists tighter, deliberately pressing into the sore arm now, twisting just enough to draw a sharp hiss from him. Pain bloomed, fresh and fierce, but it grounded him, sharpening the anticipation as she notched him at her entrance. The head of his cock parted her folds, slickness coating him, and she sank down inch by torturous inch.

They both groaned at the stretch, her tight heat enveloping him, velvet walls clenching around his length. YN's head fell back, ponytail swinging, as she bottomed out, seated fully with him buried to the hilt.

Seongje's hands flexed in her grip, nails biting into his own palms to keep from bucking up too soon.

"Fuck…" he breathed, the word a ragged exhale. Laughter tried to surface again, a hiccup of disbelief at how good she felt, but it twisted into a gasp when she rolled her hips experimentally. The movement ground her clit against his abdomen, sparks of pleasure shooting through her, but it also tugged at his pinned arms, reigniting the burn in his bicep.

YN set the pace then, slow at first, lifting almost off him before sinking back down, her thighs flexing with the effort. Each descent was controlled, deliberate, her ass slapping lightly against his thighs.

She leaned forward, bracing one hand on his chest for leverage, nails digging into the skin over his heart. The other hand stayed locked on his left wrist, her fingers a vise around the tender flesh. Every rise and fall jostled it, sending jolts of pain that blurred the edges of his vision.

"YN… ah, shit." He laughed through gritted teeth, the sound half-mad, a bubble of hysteria amid the ecstasy. His cock twitched inside her, the mix of sensations driving him wild, her walls clenching rhythmically, milking him, while her nails bit into the already sore skin of his bicep. "That hurts, you know."

Her response was a throaty moan, eyes half-lidded as she picked up speed. "I know." She ground down harder, circling her hips once, twice, the friction making her gasp.

Wet sounds filled the room, the obscene slide of him in and out, her arousal coating his balls. Sweat beaded on her skin, trickling down the valley between her breasts, still confined in the bra. Seongje's gaze fixed there, mesmerized by the bounce as she rode him, the lace slipping lower.

He strained against her hold, not to escape, but to feel more, the burn, the bite, the way it made every thrust deeper, more intense. "Harder," he urged, voice breaking on a chuckle that dissolved into a hiss.

Pain lanced up his arm as she obliged, squeezing tighter, her nails leaving crescent marks. She slammed down now, the bed creaking in protest, headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall.

YN's breaths came in sharp pants, her free hand sliding up to cup her own breast through the bra, thumbing the nipple. Pleasure coiled tight in her belly, building with each drag of him inside her, the head of his cock nudging that spot that made her toes curl.

"You like that, huh?" she taunted, voice breathy but commanding. "Who would've thought? Punching drunks and… letting your girlfriend have you like this after."

Seongje's laugh was genuine then, wild and unrestrained, shaking his hips and making her bounce with it. "Fuck yes, don't stop." But the words ended in a sharp inhale as she twisted his wrist again, the injection site screaming louder this time.

Tears pricked his eyes, not from sorrow, but from the overload, pain bleeding into pleasure, his balls drawing tight, release barreling toward him.

She felt it too, the way he thickened inside her, the telltale twitch. YN released her breast, both hands now clamping his arms to the headboard, leaning her full weight into the pin. The new pressure on his sore arm was brutal, fire racing up to his shoulder, down to his fingers, but it shattered him.

He bucked up wildly, meeting her downward thrusts, the slap of skin on skin echoing louder.

"My love… I'm--" His warning was cut off by her mouth crashing onto his, swallowing his moans. She kissed him filthy, tongue plunging deep as her hips stuttered, orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her walls clamped down, pulsing around him, milking every inch. She cried out into the kiss, body shuddering, thighs quivering as she rode it out, grinding relentlessly.

The vise of her pussy, the iron grip on his arm, it undid him. Seongje came with a guttural hiss, hips snapping up as he spilled inside her, hot pulses flooding her core.

She kept moving, drawing it out, her clit grinding against him until he was oversensitive, whimpering into her mouth.

Finally, she slowed, collapsing forward onto his chest. Their breaths synced, ragged and slowing, sweat-slick skin sticking together. YN's hands loosened on his wrists, fingers tracing apologetic circles over the red marks, especially the angry bloom around the injection site.

Seongje flexed his arm gingerly, wincing but grinning through it. "You're evil…" he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. Laughter still lingered in his voice, soft now, affectionate.

She lifted her head, smirking down at him, ponytail askew, lips swollen. "And you're still an idiot." She rolled off him reluctantly, the wet slide of separation making them both shiver. Curling into his side, she draped a leg over his thigh, her hand resting lightly on his sore arm.

He wrapped his good arm around her, pulling her closer, the bruises on his ribs protesting faintly but he didn't care. Seongje chuckled once more, the sound vibrating through her. "Worth it," he whispered.

YN pinched his side, gently this time. "Shut up and sleep. We can argue about your stupidity tomorrow."