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jooniperbonsai · 12 days ago

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This. Was. So. Cute.

And now I want hot chocolate. Really love your writing style too. It feels so effortless and fresh 🩷

Title: When the leaves turn red

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x female reader

Summary: A cosy weekend away for two at a cabin sounds perfect, but you had no idea just how perfect it could be.

Genre: Established relationship / smut / fluff / proposal /

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Warnings: Unprotected shower sex (wrap it before you tap it) / use of shower head during sex / oral (f.receiving) / fingering / creampie / explicit language / talk of marriage /

W/C: 2.8k

Banner: me

Beta: @downbad4yoongi and @moonleeai thank you both so much!

Notes: this is for the "fall for you" event with @k-vanity my prompts were: Satay chicken noodle soup with squash - a cosy night in with a book and a mug of hot chocolate by the fireplace turns into something you could've never expected. Red maple cinnamon mocha: “Is being stuck in this cabin all day while it rains a bad thing? I think it's perfect.”

The sound of your feet on the wooden steps echo through the trees as you jog up to the porch, escaping the sheet of rain that fell the moment your car arrived. Looking down at your drenched clothes as they uncomfortably cling to your skin, you can't help the laugh that escapes you.

“Well, this is unexpected weather. Even for autumn,” you begin, as you wring the water out of the bottom of your shirt, “it definitely wasn't on the forecast when I checked earlier today.”

When you get no response from Namjoon, you glance at him. Unusually quiet, he stares at the rainfall with a frown wrinkling his brow.

“Hey,” you say, flicking water from your cuff at him in an attempt to recapture his attention, “who's upset you, and do I need to fight them?”

He doesn't react, his mouth not even twitching at your joke. “We can't do the waterfall trek today. Do you realise that? It'll be too muddy to get there,” he responds, his sombre and irritated tone surprising you.

Attempting to ease his tension, you squeeze his broad shoulders, hoping to offer some reassurance. “We still have tomorrow and Sunday to be able to do that, Joon. The waterfall’s not going anywhere.”

You notice how his jaw clenches and juts out as he chews the inside of his cheek, which he only does when annoyed.

“I know that, but I wanted us to go today.”

A slight frown creases your forehead as you attempt to understand his determination. Reaching up on your tiptoes, you press kisses to his taut shoulders. The combination of the hard muscles and wet clothes against your lips calls out to you, making your insides feel electric. Sighing against him, you push your want aside.

“Maybe the rain won't last long and we can go later?”

He relaxes slightly under your touch, melting into it. “Hm.” he agrees, reluctantly. “I just…I had a plan for today, and now it's ruined.”

“In the words of Winston Churchill, however beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results,” you quote.

He looks over his shoulder at you then, with thoughtfulness in his eyes that you could get lost looking at. “What do you mean?”

“Is being stuck in this cabin all day while it rains a bad thing? I think it's perfect,” you respond, leaning against him again. “Besides,” your hands travel down the front of his shirt that clings flatteringly to his abs. Sliding your finger across them, enjoying the uneven path, mapping the way to a promise of pleasure, “all I want to do right now is take these wet clothes off and have a hot shower. Would you care to join me?”

His head jerks your way, full attention devoted back to you, and that frown suddenly irons out into surprise instead. He turns in your embrace, his arms sliding slowly around your waist and pulling you flush against him. The hard planes of his body mould to your curves, making your skin flush with heat, in contrast to the fabric wrapping itself in an ice blanket around your limbs.

His heated eyes are so focused on your mouth as you smirk up at him that you can't help but toy at your bottom lip with your teeth. His thumb is on it instantly, gently pulling it out and crashing his mouth to yours.

Heat consumes your body like a rapid forest fire. Your fingers desperately cling to the lapels of his flannel shirt and attempt to pull him even closer. The arm he holds around your waist tightens while his other hand slides down your leg, curving under your knees before lifting you off the ground making it seem effortless.

He carries you across the porch, lips attached to yours as you fumble with the keys in your pocket. Reluctantly, you pull yourself away only to unlock and push open the cabin door, before he kicks it shut behind him

“You know, you're only supposed to carry me across the threshold when we're married.”

His body stiffens under your touch, and you roll your eyes, giggling.

“Relax, Joonbug, this isn't a proposal. I'm just testing your reaction.”

He smiles, but his eyes glance around the room awkwardly, a hint of crimson dusting his cheeks.

“Note to self: do not discuss marriage yet. Revisit at a later date,” you say mechanically, your tone mocking.

He sets you down, but his arms remain firmly around your waist, pinning you against him. “I'm happy to discuss anything that involves a future with you. You just caught me off guard, is all.”

Surprised by his openness, you arch a brow in his direction. “Is that so?”

He leans down and places a soft, gentle kiss against your lips. The heat from before dissipates and is replaced with love and adoration as his thumb gently strokes your cheek—an action so tender it almost brings tears to your eyes. His forehead meets yours, and your eyes close, savouring this moment and marking it in your treasured memories.

“How about this…” he whispers, “I'll light the fire, warm this place up a bit, while you run the shower so I can warm you up.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, trailing down and leaving wet prints of his lips against your throat. His breath, a ghostly caress against your skin, “Then I'll make us both my famous hot cocoa, and we can spend the rest of the day talking about the future if you'd like?”

Your chest heaves, feeling full and ready to burst with love for this man. Your body and mind are in two different places, reading from two different books.

“And this is one of the many reasons why I love you, Joonbug.” On tip-toes you kiss him tenderly, feeling him smile against your mouth.

“I'm glad you're with me for more than just my cocoa-making skills,” he jokes, slapping you on the behind as you turn and head inside the bedroom.

Glancing back, feeling mischievous, you add, “Of course, you also have a really big…”

Your eyes travel the length of his body. He raises an eyebrow with a smirk playing across his mouth, before your gaze flickers back up to meet his.

“...heart.”

His laughter rings out around the cabin. Glancing around the space you'll spend the next three days in, you admire the wicker rocking chair in the corner. The soft sofa with cushions so big it looks like you could disappear into it and the sheepskin rug in front of the log fire—a picture-perfect vacation for the two of you.

“I'll see you and your big heart in a minute,” you say, winking before heading into the ensuite bathroom.

Turning on the shower, you peel off your wet clothes, shivering from the cold that sends instant goosebumps creeping across your skin.

Thinking about this time away with Namjoon and all the possible ways to spend your time. Impatience soars through you, wanting him inside you but also dying to know what he sees for a future between you. You’re eager to know what the time ahead looks like for him and if it matches what plays out in your mind.

Your core throbs for him, melting within and ready to accommodate him. Your head feels weightless, floating high up on clouds made of butterflies and his sweet words.

Stepping under the water, you bask in its warmth, goosebumps breaking out across your skin. When you hear the door open and click closed, your insides are alight again. Keeping your back to him, you continue to enjoy the water cascading down your front, warming your body. Hearing the clang of his belt as his trousers hit the floor, your excitement grows, butterflies swarming a tornado of arousal.

Climbing in behind you, his body encases yours, instantly warming your back. When his lips touch the skin of your shoulder, it almost burns from the bolt of desire that courses through you.

Turning in his grasp, your breasts slide across his chest, and he pounces. Urgent, needy kisses trail down your neck and make their way to your bust. Sucking the erect nubs into his mouth happens so fast your body jolts in surprise.

His hands are everywhere.

You can't keep up with the sensations, your breathing fast and ragged in your chest, needing to feel more of him. He slowly lowers to the shower floor, his plush lips trailing a searing path down your stomach, leaving you to revel at the sight. He smirks up at you, knowing how much you enjoy him at your mercy, especially now, with the water trickling down his handsome face.

His fingers spread you open, moaning in appreciation as he exposes your sensitive bud. Once his tongue touches you, unsteady on your feet, you grip at the walls, fingers sliding uselessly down the wet tiles. His tongue swirls relentlessly around your clit, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers in his hair hold you up, but your legs shake beneath you. His hand grips your rear, pushing you closer and smothering him with your cunt.

“Fuck, Joon,” you gasp as you teeter on the edge of the precipice of inexplicable pleasure.

He slowly slides a finger inside your throbbing core and beckons you to fall. With every stroke of his finger against that point of bliss inside you and every flick of his tongue, a red-hot poker of pleasure tightens almost uncomfortably inside you.

The water streaming down your body now feels too hot, the air in the bathroom feels too dense. And just as all the sensations feel too much at once, you're falling, leaping off of the cliff and into the abyss. Wave after wave of elation vibrates through your body as you cry out, holding him against you while you ride out your high.

“Turn around,” he commands, his lips brushing against you, making your pulsating core twitch from over-stimulation.

You obey, regardless of your wobbly legs, and bend forward slightly. Standing and positioning himself behind you, his fingers massage your rear and spread open your cheeks slightly. When the tip of his cock touches your entrance, a whimper escapes you. He feels so hot against you, hotter than the warm water cascading down the arch of your back.

He rolls his hips ever so slightly, pushing his head in gently before pulling it out. Teasing your pussy opening, but it's nowhere near enough, the taunting is too much for you to take.

“Joonie, please,” you whine, thrusting your backside back to meet him.

“You want more?” he asks, his voice so deep, so sexy you find yourself growling in response.

He chuckles before pushing himself into you, opening you up, stretching you until you swallow him entirely. When he is finally buried to the hilt, he pauses, his breathing now as fast as yours. His hand runs up the length of your spine, humming in appreciation as he rocks back and forth into you. His groans echo in the confines of the shower stall, accompanied by the sound of his wet skin slapping against yours with every powerful thrust.

Rolling his hips just the way you like, hitting that yearning spot inside, still hungry and not sated yet. Your fingers fan out against the tiles as you hold yourself up, bracing yourself every time he plunges deep inside you.

His hand slides to your front, grabbing one of your breasts and squeezing it gently, using it as an anchor to pound into you faster. You clench am, and the hiss from his lips sends shivers down your spine despite the heat within this glass cage.

“That's how you like it, isn't it, baby?” He says through ragged breaths. You know he's nearing his end as his pace slows slightly and his grunts grow louder.

“Fuck, yes,” you squeak out, face now pressed against the wall, arms having given in, unable to keep you up any longer.

You see the shadow of his arm reaching up on the shiny tiles and hear the click of the shower head disconnecting: the water pressure changes and moves down your body. You cry out as he places it between your legs, the harsh massage from the water bringing you closer to the edge of the abyss once again.

“That feel good, baby?” he whispers.

Words die in your throat as all you can do is nod while you gasp. Your swollen core flutters around him as you chase your high, grinding yourself against his cock as he plunges into you.

“That's it, baby,” he mutters soothingly. “Let go for me.”

He leans over, kissing your shoulder blades, and the added sensation of his lips on your skin tips you over the edge. Crashing into the pool of ecstasy, you're blinded by white light as your orgasm hits. Your pussy contracts and milks him to his simultaneous end. His hips stutter as his warm seed fills you, both of you riding out your high as one.

As your breathing slows, and he slides out of you, making you feel empty but sated, his arms cradle around your stomach, holding you up. Pulling you to him, he peppers soft kisses from your mouth to your ear.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A sleepy smile stretches across your face. “I love you, too.”

He smoothes your wet hair away from your face, looking at you with complete adoration.

He grabs a fresh bar of soap on the shelf inside the shower and unwraps it, chucking the rubbish over the top. Lathering it up in his hands, he spreads it quickly all over his body and then yours, being particularly gentle as his hands massage every inch of your body.

“I'm going to make that cocoa now. You finish up, and we can get settled in front of the fire, hm?” he says as he rinses off.

You nod, watching him as he climbs out, dries himself, and leaves the bathroom. Blissfully, you relish the warm water on your skin and relax into the steam surrounding you. When your pleasure-hazed brain floats back down to earth, you climb out and get ready to return to him.

Feeling much cosier in your hoodie and sweatpants, you head back out to the living area with your book tucked under your arm, but when you open the bedroom door, your mouth drops at the sight that greets you.

There were dozens of candles scattered all around the room. A pathway of flickering lights across the floor led to the fireplace, where Joon stood waiting, holding mugs topped with whipped cream and marshmallows.

Your heart swells, beating as fast as your legs carry you to him. You close the distance, suddenly feeling shy under his loving gaze, and take your drink from him.

“You are a god,” you say, smiling as you take a sip and wince from the molten-hot liquid. Clearly, too eager to wait for it to cool, you tear your gaze away from him momentarily to place it on the fireplace. When you turn back to him, he's kneeling before you, a chunky black box in his hand.

Any words you had were swallowed down with a gulp of sudden nerves.

The fire is roaring beside you, orange light flickers beautifully on one side of his face, making you want to reach out and touch him but resist as he starts to speak.

“I had a plan to do this a different way, something precise and thought out, but you're right,” he sighs, taking your hand in his, “sometimes things work out perfectly regardless.”

Unable to believe the scene before you, you remain still as if any movement or sound will shatter its illusion.

“You see, I have something to confess…” he holds the box out, a box that holds more than just a ring, but your entire future inside.

Tears fill your eyes in an instant, making him a blurry figure in front of you. You swipe them quickly away, not wanting to miss a moment, ingraining it in your mind.

“I would be honoured,” he smiles bashfully, revealing his dimples, and takes a calming breath. “If you would be my wife?”

As soon as the anticipated words are out and in the air surrounding you, your arms are around his neck. He falls back as your body slams into his, the two of you giggling like school children.

“Is that a yes?” he asks, winding one arm around your waist, pinning you to him.

Nodding frantically, the tears spill, leaving glistening trails down your cheeks in the candlelight.

He sits you both up so you're straddling his lap and opens the box. It's perfect. It's just your style. Everything about it had so much thought behind it, bringing a new rush of emotion.

He removes the ring, his long fingers holding it so delicately, as if it might shatter under his touch, and slides it gently on your finger. It’s a perfect fit. You are not surprised, the man never ceases to amaze you.

Clasping your hand gently in his, he brings your fingers up to his lips and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles. When his shining eyes meet yours, so open and full of love, you're unable to help the way your insides melt as you crash your lips against his once again.

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jooniperbonsai · 16 days ago

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This was really tender 😭🥺

Lilac Wine

pairing: ljh x afab!reader genre: angst, smut (MINORS DNI!!!!!) | wc: 2.7k warnings: infidelity, unprotective sex (wrap it before u tap it kids), crying a/n: loosely based on melt by josef salvat // i’m dedicating this to link @choism (who also made the banner, love u) // huge thanks to maren @wooahaeproductions for beta-ing (your comments always give me life)!

In the dark, Jihoon learns how to break you apart and build you back together, piece by piece.

It begins slowly; a movie night where you drift off to sleep on his shoulder, after having cried yourself hoarse. Jihoon learns that night that he absolutely hates your boyfriend. He also learns that he could love you so much better, if you'd only give him the chance.

Jihoon sits frozen in the dimly lit room, his eyes locked on your sleeping form. He takes in the small details, the curve of your lips and the flutter of your eyelashes as you breathe. He can see the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, the way your hair falls delicately over your face, and the scattered constellations of moles that decorate your skin. He takes in every detail, committing it to memory with an unwavering gaze.

And then, like you can feel his gaze on you, you startle awake. And you don't push him away. No, you lay your head on his shoulder, and it takes every working nerve in Jihoon's sleep-addled mind not to kiss you right there. But you look so pretty like this, staring up at him from under your eyelashes, and he thinks he might die. But he'll be damned if he dies here without having kissed you, without having showed you how much better it could be - so he does. And you absolutely melt into him with a soft sigh, like you've been waiting for this too.

And so, late at night, Jihoon learns exactly where to put his lips so you make the prettiest noises. When his lips finds the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, you gasp, arching into him, and it makes him almost combust on the spot. And the he remembers.

The boyfriend, the traitorous voice in his mind reminds him, and he breaks apart from you with a startled gasp. Your chest is heaving, your lips are kiss-bitten and plump, and Jihoon has never felt this guilty in his entire life.

“We can’t,” he breathes, and it breaks his heart. In his heart, he knows, more deeply and more powerfully than anything he’s ever known before, how much better he would be for you. But he can’t, not right now, and the thought cleaves his chest in two.

“I know,” you whisper back, as if you’re afraid to break this very fragile bubble that exists around just the two of you. Your eyes fill with tears, and Jihoon yearns. It’s like second nature, the way his hand cups your jaw, the way his thumb brushes a stray tear off your cheek. Before he can stop himself, before that traitorous voice can say anything else, he leans in again. His lips find yours, and he can taste the salt of your tears, the bitter taste of your guilt.

He should stop. He should. But then you kiss him back, again, and every rational thought flies out the window. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and you shiver so delightfully against him when his cold fingers find your warm skin.

“Jihoon-”

Jihoon's breath is hot against the nape of your neck, his words a desperate plea mixed with intense desire. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice reverberating with urgency. "I'll do anything you say."

But you don't. Instead, your fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer. Your body arches into his touch, craving more, and he groans, kissing down your neck with a fervor that makes his head spin. Your skin feels like fire, but he’s so willing to let himself burn, even if it’s only for tonight.

"We shouldn't," you whisper, even as your hands roam beneath his shirt, tracing the contours of his back.

Jihoon pulls back slightly, his dark eyes searching yours. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks again, his voice husky and strained.

You shake your head, unable to form the words. He sees the hesitance dancing in your eyes. It's wrong, you know it's wrong, but it feels so right. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, trembling with a mix of anticipation and guilt. Jihoon's breath catches in his throat as your hands slide across his bare chest. He pulls back slightly, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation or regret. But all he finds is a reflection of his own desire, burning just as brightly.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, and Jihoon knows that he’ll worship you for as long as he can have you. He’ll lose himself in you, over and over.

And so, in the dark, as the movie credits play, Jihoon learns the curve of your neck, the softness of your skin. He memorizes the cadence of your voice, the rhythm of your heartbeat, the taste of your lips. You are his religion, and he worships at your altar with reverent hands and whispered prayers.

With each touch, each kiss, Jihoon feels himself falling deeper. He knows this moment is fleeting, stolen in the shadows of night, but he can't bring himself to stop. His fingers trace patterns on your skin, mapping out constellations he'll never forget. Every sigh, every shiver, every soft moan is etched into his memory. They linger in the deepest corners of his mind, like delicate brushstrokes on a canvas, a masterpiece of sensation that he will never tire of admiring.

As clothes fall away, discarded on the floor, Jihoon takes his time. He wants to savor every second, every sensation. His lips ghost over your collarbone, down your chest, across your stomach. He feels your fingers tighten in his hair, hears your breath hitch. His hands find the elastic of your panties, and suddenly, it’s like he can’t breathe.

"Jihoon," you whisper, his name a prayer on your lips.

He looks up at you, drinking in the sight. Your hair is mussed, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with desire. You've never looked more beautiful. He finds your clit, and the sound you make sounds better than anything he could create in his studio. It’s heaven and hell, all at once, the way your hips grind against his palm, the scent of your arousal permeating his senses.

“Fuck,” he hisses, sliding your soaked panties down your thighs, “you’re so fucking wet.”

Your breath catches at his words, a shiver running through your body. Jihoon's fingers move with deliberate slowness, teasing and exploring. He watches your face intently, memorizing every flutter of your eyelashes, every parting of your lips. If this is the only time he’ll ever have this, then by God, he wants to remember everything, so he can play it back, night after night.

"Please," you whimper, your hips bucking against his hand.

Jihoon's breath catches in his throat. He's dreamed of this moment for so long, imagined the sound of your voice begging for him. But reality is so much sweeter, so much more intoxicating. Jihoon feels drunk on the power of your pleasure, on the way you respond to his every caress. He slides one finger inside you, then another, marveling at the tight, wet heat. Your walls clench around him, and he has to bite back a groan.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. "So perfect."

His thumb circles your clit as his fingers curl inside you, searching for that spot that makes you see stars. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching off the couch.

“More,” you plead, your voice a husky whisper that cuts straight through him, igniting every nerve ending. The need in your voice is intoxicating, and he obeys without a second thought. Your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him on as if you can’t get close enough, can’t pull him into you fast enough. “God, you’re exquisite,” he breathes, the words escaping him as he drinks in the sight of you. And then he’s there, his mouth on you, and it’s as if his world has exploded into color. You taste like a sinner’s salvation, sweet and salty and like guilt. Like lilac wine—bittersweet and intoxicating—you linger on his tongue, the taste of something forbidden yet holy, and he drinks you in, helplessly devout.

Jihoon’s tongue works in tandem with his fingers—each movement deliberate as he relishes the way your body writhes above him, how you tug at his hair as if you can't stand to have him any closer. Your thighs tremble around his head, and he can��t help but revel in the way your body responds to him. Your breath comes in short, desperate gasps, and he knows you’re getting close with each flick and curl of his fingers.

He feels your walls fluttering around him, tightening in a way that makes his heart race. It’s a thrilling sensation, knowing he’s bringing you to the edge. With every gentle press of his fingers, he can see the pleasure building inside you, your body arching in anticipation.

“Please, Jihoon,” you whimper, and that plea ignites something deep within him. He’s captivated by how beautifully you’re coming apart in his hands, and it drives him mad.

“Let go for me,” he murmurs against you, adding a little more pressure with his thumb as his fingers pick up the pace. The room is filled with the sound of your soft moans, and he watches your expressions shift with every movement, completely entranced.

Just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, he feels you tighten around him, trembling as your body responds to the building waves of pleasure. For a second, Jihoon swears he reaches nirvana; the sounds you make race through him like lightning bolts.

“Let go,” he urges softly, and in that moment, your body shudders, and a cry of bliss escapes your lips. Jihoon feels a rush of satisfaction wash over him as you come undone beneath him, skin glowing with exertion. Jihoon works you through it, gentling his movements as you come down from your high. He presses soft kisses to your inner thighs, your stomach, slowly making his way back up your body.

He looks up at you, eyes glinting with desire, feeling an overwhelming urge to mark this moment forever—the way you look, the way you sound. He nods, as if promising to deliver everything you crave, and rises to lean over you again, capturing your lips with his. The kiss is searing, a desperate scramble of breaths and desires as your tongues entwine. You taste like the rapture, but the taste of your tears sends shockwaves of terror through him. Jihoon knows he is a sinner – but if the road to hell tastes as sweet as you, he’ll make the journey a thousand times over.

Breaking the kiss, Jihoon reaches for his jeans, hastily shedding that last barrier between you. His heart races as he positions himself at your entrance, locking eyes with you in a moment that feels monumental. “Are you sure?” he asks again, the weight of the question lingering between you like a promise, an invitation.

There are tears in your eyes when you take one of his hands in yours, guiding it to rest against your cheek. “Yes,” you whisper, your heart racing in tandem with his. The certainty in your voice ignites a fire within him, erasing every doubt that dared to linger. “I want this. I want you.”

With those words, Jihoon feels something inside him break and reform. He enters you slowly, savoring every inch, every sensation. The feeling is overwhelming, almost spiritual in its intensity. Your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, meant to be joined. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, breathing heavily.

"You feel incredible," he breathes, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. The moan that escapes your lips is the sweetest sound Jihoon has ever heard. He begins to move, setting a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust feels like coming home, like finding a piece of himself he never knew was missing.

Your hands roam his back, nails digging in slightly as the pleasure builds. Jihoon kisses you deeply, swallowing your moans. He wants to memorize every sound, every expression, every sensation.

Jihoon's hips snap forward, and you cry out, arching beneath him. He feels drunk on the sounds you make, on the way your body responds to his. The room is filled with the sound of skin against skin, of ragged breaths and soft moans. Jihoon can't tear his eyes away from your face, watching as pleasure washes over you in waves. Your skin is flushed, a light sheen of sweat making you glow in the dim light. He can't take his eyes off you, mesmerized by the way your lips part with each thrust, the way your eyes flutter closed in ecstasy.

"Look at me," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you."

Your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear. Jihoon feels exposed, vulnerable, but he can't look away. He sees everything in your eyes - the pleasure, the guilt, the overwhelming desire. It's a mirror of his own emotions, and it threatens to consume him. Your hands cup his face, pulling him down for a kiss that's both tender and desperate. Jihoon's hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he loses himself in the taste of your lips. He feels your walls tightening around him, knows you're close.

"Jihoon," you gasp, breaking the kiss. "I'm close..."

He nods, understanding. His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He circles it with his thumb, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Come for me," he urges, his voice low and husky. "Let me see you fall apart."

Your body responds to his words, to his touch. You're trembling beneath him, teetering on the edge of bliss. Jihoon watches in awe as pleasure washes over you. Your back arches, pressing your chest against his. Your walls clench around him, pulsing with your release. The sight of you coming undone, combined with the feeling of you tightening around him, pushes Jihoon over the edge.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groan as his hips stutter, driving deep as he spills inside you. For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, bodies intertwined, breaths mingling.

As the waves of pleasure subside, reality begins to creep back in. Jihoon lifts his head, meeting your gaze. There's a mix of emotions in your eyes - satisfaction, affection, and a hint of guilt. He knows his own expression must mirror yours.

Slowly, carefully, he pulls out and lies beside you on the narrow couch. You turn to face him, and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture is tender, intimate in a way that makes his heart ache. Just tonight, he reminds himself. Only for tonight.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, searching your face for any sign of regret.

Your tears start anew, and Jihoon swears he can hear his own heart crumbling. “Fuck,” you whimper, pulling at the ends of your hair. “Fuck! Jihoon, what did we just do?”

His body aches for you, his soul hungers for yours, but all he can offer is his embrace as he held you close against his chest. He can feel your tears, hot and guilt-ridden, and he feels like he’s just made the biggest mistake in the world.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his own tears falling onto your hair.

Sleep comes slowly, hours later, as the night ends and the next morning begins. It takes him hours to calm your breathing, to soothe your tears, to coax you into a fitful sleep.

He’s sure he’ll never sleep again.

But when he wakes, you’re gone - every trace of you that he had tried so desperately to memorize has been wiped clean from his apartment. It was as if you had never been there at all.

This is what hell feels like, Jihoon thinks to himself.

In the dark, Jihoon learned how to break you apart and build you back together — but in the harsh light of day, it’s him that’s left broken.

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