straykeedz-recs

[straykeedz-recs]

Just Curious 💦

Bestfriend!Jeongin x Reader

Tags: best friends-to-lovers tension, explicit sexual content, innocence kink, exhibition/voyeur kink, soft dom!Jeongin, handjob, blowjob, oral sex (f,m receiving) fingering, tit play.

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: You and Jeongin have been best friends for years—comfortable, close, flirty in the way that doesn’t mean anything… until it does. One late-night conversation turns into a quiet confession: you’ve never really seen a dick up close. And Jeongin, sweet and curious and clearly struggling to keep his thoughts clean around you lately, agrees to let you look. Just look. But one glance turns into a touch. A touch becomes a slow, experimental stroke. And before either of you can think—you’re on your knees, and he’s moaning your name for the very first time.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Jeongin’s room was always your favorite.

Not because it was particularly neat, or big, or even that quiet, but because it smelled like him. Faint body spray, fabric softener, warmth. Like vanilla and skin. Like home.

You were curled up beside him now, on his bed, legs tangled under a too-warm blanket. A rerun of something dumb flickered on his laptop at the foot of the bed, the glow casting soft shadows on his jaw. You weren’t watching.

You couldn’t, not really, not with the question sitting in your throat.

It started as a joke. Kind of.

“I’ve never really, like… seen one,” you’d mumbled, picking at the hem of your shorts. “Not up close.”

Jeongin looked over. His face didn’t twist in disgust or surprise—he just blinked, slow, curious. Like he was trying to figure out where the conversation was headed.

“You’ve never…?” he echoed, propping himself up on one elbow. “Even with your ex?”

You shook your head, cheeks warm. “I always freaked out before it got that far. I don’t know—it’s not like I’m scared, I just—” You bit your lip. “I think I just wanted to feel safe. And I never did.”

He was quiet a moment, just watching you. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “But you feel safe with me?”

You nodded. Of course you did. Jeongin was Jeongin. Gentle, steady, sweet. He never looked at you like you were a problem. Never made you feel like you had to be more than you were.

You took a breath. “Can I… see yours?”

His lips parted.

A blink. Then another.

You felt your stomach turn over—not from fear, but from something deeper, slower, heavier. He hadn’t even said yes, but you were already imagining it. Already imagining him.

“You’re serious?” he asked.

“Just to see,” you whispered. “Not to do anything. I just—I don’t know. I’m curious. You’re my best friend, and you’ve had sex, and I trust you. And I know it’s kind of weird but…”

His hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. He was flushed, pink to the tips of his ears, but his voice was steady.

“I mean… if it’s you, it shouldn’t be weird.”

You looked at him then. Really looked. His hoodie had slipped a little off his shoulder. His hair was messy from the pillow. He was nervous—but not resisting.

And something in his sweatpants had twitched.

Oh.

Jeongin noticed where your eyes went and quickly adjusted the blanket over his lap, clearing his throat. “I, uh. You kinda asking me that got me—”

“It’s okay,” you said, surprised at your own calm. You were warm all over, but you didn’t want to stop. “It makes sense.”

“…You still wanna see?”

Your heart thudded.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

He sat up slowly, back against the headboard, looking at you like he was waiting for you to change your mind. When you didn’t, he reached under the blanket. You watched his hands move, untying the drawstring, pushing the waistband down—And then he pulled it out.

Your breath caught.

It was… God, it was hard already. Pretty, somehow. Long, flushed at the tip, twitching slightly in his grip.

You stared. Blinked. Swallowed.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked.

You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. I just. I didn’t think I’d be this…”

“Curious?” he offered, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You looked up at him, heart in your throat. “Can I… touch it?”

Jeongin’s breath hitched.

His hand fell away, and yours took its place.

His skin was hot. Smooth. Heavy in your palm. The weight of him made your thighs clench.

He let out the softest sound—more of a sigh, but when you curled your fingers gently around him, it deepened. A low hum of want.

Your thumb brushed over the tip and his hips jerked.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Okay. You’re really—fuck. You’re gonna kill me.”

You giggled, half-terrified, half-entranced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he groaned. “Just—do that again.”

You did. And this time he dropped his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his jaw clenched tight.

He looked wrecked. And you had barely even touched him.

His hand found your thigh under the blanket, resting there—hot and shaking.

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked quietly.

He looked down at you, eyes dark, lips parted.

“No,” he said. “I want you to keep going.”

You didn’t stop. Yet you hadn’t expected it to feel like this.

Not just the weight in your hand—hot, heavy, pulsing with quiet need—but the way it changed him. Jeongin, your Jeongin, who always laughed with his whole chest and scolded you for stealing fries off his plate… was now struggling to breathe normally. Because of you. Because your hand was stroking slowly along the length of him, unsure and deliberate.

And god, the way his head tipped back.

He wasn’t moaning—yet—but he was close. You could tell by the way he swallowed hard, jaw flexing like he was grinding the sound between his teeth. His lashes fluttered, cheeks red, chest rising just a little faster than normal.

You sat beside him, half under the blanket, palm moving tentatively. A slow glide upward. A twist at the top. The slippery heat of him stunned you a little—how soft the skin was despite how hard he felt.

Your heart was pounding.

You weren’t thinking about exes. Or what this might mean in the morning. You were thinking about how Jeongin looked right now—hips twitching slightly, hand fisting in the sheets, breath stuttering every time you found a rhythm he liked.

“This okay?” you asked quietly, eyes on him.

He nodded, biting his lip.

“Feels good?”

“…Yeah.”

It came out strangled. Like he was holding back.

That made something in you ache.

You tightened your grip just a little, thumb swiping over the slit.

His stomach clenched.

“Oh, fuck—” he whispered, voice breathy and choked, and that sound—God, that sound did something to you. You didn’t realize how much you wanted to hear it again until you saw his throat work like he was ashamed of it.

You kept stroking. A little firmer now. Your fingers adjusted the angle slightly, and he twitched in your hand.

Then he gasped.

It was high and helpless and full of surprise. And it made your thighs clench.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna embarrass myself,” he muttered, eyes barely open.

Your lips parted. “You mean come?”

He looked at you like you’d hit him.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll—fuck—I’ll actually do it.”

You tilted your head, blinking at him. Then let your thumb circle the tip again, just to watch his jaw drop. His toes curled under the blanket.

“I like when you sound like that,” you whispered, almost to yourself.

He gave you a helpless look. “I’m trying not to.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you,” he hissed, hips twitching up once. “And I’m trying not to make it weird.”

You bit your lip, watching the precum bead up at the top again. The way his cock jerked in your hand was insane. Alive. Like it knew you. Like it was begging for more.

And you weren’t scared. You were fascinated.

You leaned in closer, just a little, eyes locked on where your hand moved. He watched you too—eyes heavy, lips parted, expression stunned.

Then you did something dangerous.

You leaned over his lap, blew softly against the flushed tip—and just watched his whole body jerk.

A strangled moan ripped out of him before he could stop it, and his hand flew to his face.

“Shit—sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

You were already smiling.

“I liked that one too.”

You didn’t ask this time, you just bent a little further down. You didn’t even let yourself think— It just happened.

One moment, your fingers were wrapped around him—slow, exploring, fascinated—and the next, your lips were hovering just above the head of his cock. Close enough to smell the faint trace of skin, salt, something earthy and male.

Your heart was pounding. But not from fear.

From want.

You leaned forward.

Your tongue flicked out—just a little, just to taste—and the moment it met his tip, hot and slick and pulsing against you, Jeongin groaned.

Like full-body groaned. Like he’d just lost a fight he didn’t know he was in.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Fuck—don’t do that unless you’re—shit.”

But you were already doing it again.

Another lick. Slower this time. A swirl of your tongue around the head like you were trying to memorize the shape of him. And he twitched, hard, thighs tensing beneath you like a trap snapping shut.

You were trembling, but not with nerves—with hunger.

With the thrill of how good he tasted. How desperate he sounded.

So you kissed the tip once, just to be soft. Then you opened your mouth.

Jeongin’s breath punched out of him when you sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch, mouth wet and warm around him.

“Holy shit—” His voice cracked, hand shooting out to grip the sheets—but then it found your hair instead. He didn’t yank, didn’t guide yet, just held, fingers curling at the base of your skull like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You don’t—fuck, baby, you don’t have to—”

But you wanted to.

You wanted to know what he looked like when he fell apart. What his voice sounded like when it broke. What it meant to take the boy you trusted most and make him forget his own name.

So you sank lower.

His grip tightened.

“Oh my god—” His voice shattered.

You pulled up slowly, spit connecting your lips to his tip, and glanced up at him.

His mouth was open, eyes barely focused, skin flushed and glowing like fever. “You look so fucking pretty like that,” he whispered, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Don’t stop. Please.”

You didn’t.

You took him again, deeper this time. Used your tongue, your lips, your hand stroking the base while your mouth worked the rest.

And then—you moaned. Soft, helpless, humming around his cock like it felt too good not to.

Jeongin lost it.

His hand in your hair tightened—harder this time. He tugged just slightly, gathering it into a messy ponytail, not harsh but firm.

“Oh my god, don’t do that. Don’t fucking moan like that,” he gasped. “You’re gonna make me—fuck, baby, I’m gonna lose it.”

He rocked into your mouth before he could stop himself.

His whole body was trembling. One hand fisted in your hair, the other clutching the blanket so hard his knuckles were white. His thighs were shaking beneath you. He looked ruined—sweat dampening his forehead, breath hitching every time you swallowed more.

“You’re—” he hissed, almost whining. “How are you so good at this?”

You pulled back just enough to breathe, saliva clinging to your lips, and gave him a dazed smile.

“I’ve never done it,” you whispered. “Not really.”

That broke something in him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he growled, hand tightening in your hair. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Then he gently—but unmistakably—guided your head back down.

This time he didn’t hold back.

His hips rolled, slow at first, like he was testing your limits. He fed himself into your mouth a little deeper, a little harder, and when you took it, when you let him—he groaned. Raw and broken.

It wasn’t gentle anymore. It wasn’t curiosity.

It was need.

His best friend—his—was on her knees in front of him, mouth stretched around his cock, moaning like she couldn’t get enough. He wanted to stop. Say something. Do something. But you were so fucking eager, and your mouth felt like heaven, and—

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped, voice shaking. “You keep going like that and I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come in your mouth, and I won’t be able to stop. Is that—shit—is that okay?”

You could feel it in the way his thighs trembled. In the way his hand clenched and unclenched in your hair.

In the way his voice had broken completely, muttering “fuck” and “baby” and your name over and over like it was a prayer—like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Shit—shit—I’m gonna—” he choked, hips twitching once, twice, every muscle drawn tight. “I’m gonna come—baby, I can’t hold it—”

You didn’t stop. You couldn’t.

You wanted to know what he tasted like. What he looked like when he broke. What it felt like to make your best friend lose control of himself in your mouth.

So you kept going. Let him fuck shallow thrusts against your tongue. Kept your hand moving at the base, your lips sealed tight around him. And when the first pulse hit your tongue—Jeongin moaned.

Loud. Guttural. Like it had been torn from the base of his spine.

“Fuck—” His whole body shuddered.

He came hard. Warm, salty, thick across your tongue—his breath stalling, his thighs flexing, head thrown back against the pillow. He was panting like he’d just run a marathon.

And you swallowed.

Slowly.

While holding eye contact.

His eyes flew open.

You watched him watch you, licking your lips when you were done, cheek flushed, mouth slick and wrecked.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, completely stunned.

Then he grabbed you. Fisted your hair, pulled you up over him, lips crashing into yours with so much heat you gasped against his mouth. His hands were everywhere—your jaw, your waist, your back—gripping like he couldn’t get close enough.

It was your first kiss with your bestfriend. And it felt like it had been waiting years.

Desperate. Sloppy. Tongue and spit and soft little moans.

When he pulled back just barely, eyes dazed, voice hoarse, he asked “Where the fuck did you learn to do that?”

You grinned, still flushed, panting.

“I’ve been watching a lot of porn lately.”

Jeongin froze.

Then he groaned and yanked you into another kiss, deeper this time, pulling you fully into his lap.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered against your lips. “You’re really gonna end me.”

You giggled, rolling your hips slightly, drunk on the power of it.

But then he sobered—just a little. Pulled back to look at you, really look at you.

“I want to touch you,” he whispered. “Can I?”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you sat up just enough to pull your shirt over your head, baring your chest with slow, quiet confidence. No words. No hesitation.

Then you took his hand and placed it on your bare tits.

Jeongin’s mouth parted in a silent gasp.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. His fingers twitched, then molded around the soft weight in his palm. He looked up at you like he didn’t know where to start, like he was about to lose his mind all over again. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

He cupped you gently at first, thumbing your nipple, then rolling it softly until you whimpered. His other hand joined in, squeezing, fondling, exploring like he’d been waiting forever.

And honestly? He had.

You leaned back slightly to give him room, and he took it—mouth lowering, tongue licking a stripe across your chest before closing around your nipple.

Your hips jerked.

“Oh—Jeongin…”

He groaned against your skin.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, tongue circling, teeth grazing just a little. “I’ve dreamed about this. So many fucking times.”

You tugged on his hair, breath ragged. “Then don’t stop.”

Jeongin’s lips were still warm from your nipple, glossy from his mouth. His hands were roaming now—slow and reverent—like he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream.

“Lay down for me,” he murmured, voice ragged.

You obeyed, shifting back onto the bed, bare-chested and flushed, heart hammering in your throat. He crawled after you, settling between your thighs like it was where he belonged.

His hands hovered at the waistband of your shorts. He looked up.

“Can I?”

You nodded, barely breathing. “Please.”

He exhaled like you’d given him a gift. His fingers hooked into the fabric, pulling them down with a kind of reverent care. When they reached your knees, he tugged them off fully—eyes fixed on the soft cotton of your panties, the growing dark spot between your legs.

Jeongin made a sound—a sharp inhale, almost a groan.

“Fuck. You’re soaked,” he whispered, like it hurt to say. “That was all from…?”

“You,” you breathed.

He swallowed. “Jesus.”

His hands slid up your thighs, slow and steady, before resting over your hips. He leaned in, eyes locked on yours.

“I want to taste you.”

Your breath caught.

“You can.”

You watched him lower his head—his hands spreading your thighs open gently, lips brushing the inside of your knee, your thigh, everywhere but where you needed him.

And then—finally—his mouth pressed to the damp fabric of your panties.

You gasped.

His nose nuzzled softly, lips mouthing against the soaked cotton. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmured, hot breath making you twitch. “I’ve never wanted anything like this.”

Then, with agonizing patience, he pulled your panties aside.

And stared.

“Fuck,” he whispered, so soft you barely heard it.

Then he leaned in.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow—uncertain, experimental. You felt it like lightning, your body jerking with a strangled moan.

He pulled back instantly. “Too much?”

You shook your head, breathless. “No. Just—don’t stop.”

That was all he needed.

He went back in—licking a firm stripe from your entrance to your clit, then repeating it, tongue pressing a little harder. He was learning you. Finding what made your thighs tremble, what made your breath catch.

Then he moaned into you.

Moaned.

“God, you taste—so fucking sweet.”

You whined, hips lifting off the bed, and he grabbed your thighs, held you down. “Stay still for me, baby. Let me make you feel good.”

His mouth latched onto your clit and sucked gently, tongue flicking fast, relentless, while one hand slipped down between your legs.

When his fingers dipped inside—hot, slow, curling—you cried out.

“Jeongin—”

He looked up briefly, lips shiny, eyes blazing.

“That’s right,” he whispered. “Say my name.”

He fucked you with his fingers��deep, steady strokes, curling just right—while his mouth stayed glued to your clit, wet sounds echoing in the room, your gasps tangled with his groans.

And then you moaned. High and wrecked and desperate.

You tugged on his hair. Tight. Hips grinding into his face like instinct had taken over.

Jeongin growled into your cunt.

“Oh my god—”

He buried his face deeper, tongue flicking faster, like he couldn’t get enough.

And you were so close now—body arching, walls clenching around his fingers, thighs quivering.

“I—I’m gonna—”

He didn’t stop.

Didn’t dare.

He wanted to feel you come. Hear it. Taste it.

You broke like a wave.

Crying out his name, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the bed as your orgasm crashed over you, hard and blinding.

He didn’t move. Didn’t stop licking. His fingers stayed deep, easing you through every aftershock until you were twitching, panting, gasping.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was slick, chin wet, eyes dark.

He kissed your thigh once. Then looked up at you with a wild, ruined smile.

“You’re never getting rid of me now,” he whispered.

You lay there on his bed, chest still rising in slow, uneven waves, your legs limp, your skin flushed and glowing from the inside out. Jeongin hovered above your cunt, breathing hard, lips slightly swollen, fingers still curled gently around your thigh.

He looked like he’d been wrecked by prayer.

His hair was a mess. His cheeks were pink. There was a smear of your slick at the corner of his mouth.

He kissed your inner thigh again—just barely there.

Then he came up, slow, crawling up the length of your body like he was scared to startle you.

“You okay?” he whispered, brushing your hair off your forehead.

You nodded, blinking up at him. “Yeah.”

A quiet pause.

“You sure?”

Your fingers reached for his. Intertwined them gently.

“Yeah, Jeongin. I’m really okay.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Good. I was kinda scared I…” He shook his head with a sheepish smile. “I don’t know. Took it too far.”

You smiled back, soft and sleepy. “You didn’t. It wasn’t just you.”

“I know, I just…” His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand, slow. “I didn’t think it would feel like that.”

Your heart stuttered.

“Like what?”

“Like more,” he said simply. “Like… you weren’t just touching me. You were giving me something. And I didn’t even know I wanted it until I had it.”

The room stilled, but then you pulled him down into your arms.

He tucked himself over you, one leg between yours, head resting against your shoulder like he belonged there. You played with his hair absentmindedly, letting the quiet wrap around you both like a blanket.

His voice came again, barely a whisper. “Is it weird that I feel closer to you now than I ever have?”

You shook your head. “I feel it too.”

Another pause. Then, teasing “So, uh… ‘I’ve been watching porn’?”

You snorted. “Don’t act like you haven’t.”

“I have, I just—” He lifted his head to look at you. “I didn’t think you were watching it with me in mind.”

Your cheeks flushed.

You didn’t answer.

He stared at you for a beat—then kissed your cheek. Then your jaw. Then the hollow of your throat.

Then he laid his head back down and just breathed with you.

Quiet minutes passed like that.

Eventually, you felt his arms curl tighter around you, anchoring himself to your warmth like he didn’t want to let go. His voice was sleepy when it came again.

“Promise you won’t disappear on me tomorrow?”

You turned your head, kissed the top of his.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jeongin.”

You meant it.

You both drifted off like that—skin against skin, hearts slow and quiet, a little stunned at how easily something so curious had turned into something that felt like love.

Authors note: Hellaur fine shyts!!! 🤩🤗 I’m a little mad at y’all for not showing love to my “Love diary series” 😤 but anyway lets get back on track!!! I was going through my masterlist and i realized that i don’t write Jeongin and Felix enough lol (my bad) so how do you like this one?? Obviously there’s gonna be a part 2, still writing it. 🤭

On another note, my taglist is full 😫 and i have alot of you that i’m not allowed to tag unfortunately, i dont know how to go about it. Any tips? Apparently i cant tag more than 50 🫠

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeoff @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8 @sunflwerstar @shxdowofdarkness @aeyla @annyeongffs @beppybeesnuggets @iamwritteninyourstars @crisle19 @stxysakura @ocean-glacierblue

[straykeedz-recs]

THE LOVER⠀⠀⠀ ( 𝓽wo. )

things are heating up beyond your control, but you don’t intend to stop now that you feel this alive.

𝓬ontains: f!reader x felix. 7.8k wc. infidelity. fluff. felix being the chillest other woman ever. smut. 18+

𝓷otes: taking over a month to update a miniseries is insane and i am sorry, this is now the longest fic i’ve posted on here yet and i hope it lives up to the wait😭 for everyone still tuning in i love and appreciate you

PREV. ❀ CONT.

𝓨OU RUN THE BATH hot enough to just about boil you alive. as you slip into the water, a searing sting coating your skin, you just take it. tell yourself you deserve it.

when you slid into the passenger seat beside your fiancé, his hand landed heavy on your thigh — right over the spot where felix’s mouth had been moments earlier. panic shot up your spine like a bolt of lightning.

you needed a cleanse, a detox. to burn off all the remnants of felix that still clung to your body like smoke. although, he’s left you with patches of red blooming on the skin that’ll be a bitch to hide.

you’ll have to freeze spoons, buy some military grade concealer, maybe even start praying that your fiancé won’t suddenly start taking actual notice of you, only to see where someone else had marked you.

you weren’t about to fuck around and find out.

was this close enough to a baptism? maybe you could DIY some homemade holy water. skull it in a flask. cleanse yourself from the inside out.

… you’ve never felt more shame in your life.

after the shitshow that was today, you’re putting your foot down. there’ll be no more. your bed’s all made for you — yes, you can feel the pea at the very bottom, but there’s no use rolling around or thrashing about like it’ll change what’s already set in stone. what’s already sitting on your finger.

you hold your hand up to the ceiling, watching the light refract on your ring. this little gold band that dictates the trajectory of your life.

is it worth giving up the first human connection you’ve found in what felt like forever when your fate’s already predetermined?

it’s not like felix could stop it all. it’s not like he’d even want to go through the trouble. you just happened to make him a nice looking coffee. he’s not your soulmate. he’s not your forever. that titleholder is beyond the bathroom door, dozing on the couch watching some boring 90’s sitcom.

at least that’s what you’ve been told. that he’s supposed to be. isn’t that what marriage is?

you sit on the thought for a while.

you scoop water onto your chest, the droplets run tears down your skin. you blow bubbles across the surface and watch them pop. you think of your swan, what she must be up to at this hour. you think of your coworker emmie and how you’d die to have another friend. you think of felix and then you cry.

shoulders shuddering, throat constricting, you cry and you cry. you just can’t stop the tears. maybe they’d been backed up for months.

you let it all out. how badly you wish you could’ve chosen your own life. how badly you want it to be felix. how you can’t do anything about it but ugly cry in a now lukewarm bath.

you don’t want to let him go — to just abandon the spark of life he ignites within you, in a way this ring and this man and this life has never come close.

the foot you put down has just been amputated (didn’t take long), because you know you’ll see felix again. he’s bound to swing by the café again, regardless of what conclusion you draw in your head right now. you did leave things unfinished, after all…

but that was only a shared moment of weakness, between two friends. that’s all he’ll be. a friend. nothing more, nothing less. nothing that your fiancé can fuss over if you behave yourself.

you catch your reflection in the mirror: eyes red-rimmed and cheeks puffy. you sniffle.

liar.

⠀

⠀

ten minutes into your usual routine on the job and you were thinking of ways to stage an accident to hurt yourself.

felix hadn’t come by — not yet. if he even does. what do you care? he’s just a friend, of course. a friendly friend…

is burning your hand on the coffee machine enough to get sent home?

was an empty house and a burn mark, which you’d have to think up a viable excuse for, better than just facing felix?

maybe.

the doorbell jingles, and your heart nearly gives out until you’re faced with a very confused emmie.

she steps in out of the breeze, bag slung over her shoulder and brows raised at you standing there, stiffly alert.

“did i walk in on a ghost?”

you exhale, untensing your shoulders. “just thought it was someone else.”

she hums, but that’s not the answer she was looking for. “someone else like... the guy from the other morning? lean, blonde, acting like a puppy?”

you turn your gaze to the floor, pretending to notice a nonexistent smudge to clean. “he’s just a regular.”

emmie snorts a laugh. “yeah, okay. maybe a regular in your bed.”

you glance up sharply. “no he’s not.”

she shrugs, but there’s that pointed look again — the one that’s connecting dots. she sets her bag down on the counter and leans her elbows against it, watching you with more concern than teasing now.

“you okay?” she asks gently. “did something happen with your... boyfriend?”

there’s that word again. like a bruise she keeps pressing just to check if you’ll flinch.

this time, you admit it meekly. “he’s not my boyfriend.”

emmie’s face doesn’t shift much — just a flicker of the eyes, like she’s filed that away. “alright,” she nods. “well, if you ever want to talk about it... i’m great with secrets.”

you trade smiles.

but then bell rings again. and this time when you look, it’s actually him.

felix steps through the door, hands in his jean pockets like he’s unsure if he’s welcome, windblown hair tumbling into his eyes. once his sights land on you, his whole face lights up: soft, uncertain, but unmistakably hopeful.

you forget to breathe.

“i’ll be in the back,” emmie assures, already nudging you forward. “go on.”

you didn’t have much time left before the morning rush. your legs are moving before your brain can catch up.

you meet him halfway by the pastry case, half-shielded from the window and out of the camera’s line of sight.

felix’s eyes roam your face, as if searching for the version of you he saw last — bright, giggling, alive in the sunlight. but now you were schooling your face to give away as little as possible.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, like the wrong words might send you running for the hills.

you try for a smile. “i am, yeah. are you?”

felix runs a hand through his hair, then laughs quietly to himself. nervous. “agh, i don’t know. i’ve been wondering if i messed it all up.”

“what?”

“you ran off so fast. and you didn’t call,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “i left you my number, but maybe i shouldn’t have. was i pushing too far?”

“felix, no—”

“i don’t want to make this weird, i swear. you can tell me if i came on too strong or if i misread—”

“—you didn’t.”

he pauses. you watch his eyes soften, pupils expanding as they swallow the light. and then his face splits into a smile — that sun-warm smile that makes you weak in the knees; chipping away at the last shred of your resolve.

you hold your hand up, sunlight refracting off the gold ring on your finger. “this isn’t what it looks like. it’s complicated, but i’m still going to be married—”

“happily?”

you freeze, the words dying in your throat. you swallow when you meet felix’s gaze — soft eyes searching yours.

“doesn’t matter. but it is real, and i can’t change that.”

“it should matter if you’re happy or not—”

you shake your head, grabbing hold of felix’s hand to shush him. you can’t answer that in a way he’ll be okay with.

you exhale shakily. “i didn’t call because i was.. scared. i didn’t know if i should..”

“i know, i’m sorry. i get it,” he says, though you’re not entirely sure he does. “but you don’t have to pretend, you know. if this was just something fun, a little distraction, then i’ll back off.”

your hold around his hand tightens, and you feel him tense under your touch. “it’s not that.”

felix sounds breathless as he asks, “then what?”

you force yourself to hold his gaze — heart pounding, throat dry. you owe it to him to not run away again.

“this, you. you’ve been the only brightness in my life lately. the one thing that makes me feel like i’m not isolated. trapped.”

felix huffs, stepping closer. “you’re not.”

you give him a sad smile, silently disagreeing. you already figured he wouldn’t get it.

his breath hitches, hesitant, before he says lowly: “i don’t care what this is. if this is just me showing up every morning and making you laugh, i’ll do it. if you only want me to walk you to the lake, feed the swans with you — you’ve got it. i’ll be your friend. your distraction, your secret, whatever. just let me be what you need.”

“felix,”

“i like you,” he blurts. “probably too much, more than i should. i know. but i do.”

you’ll admit, he does drive a hard bargain. if felix keeps making you happy in this little bubble, and you leave it all behind the moment you go your seperate ways — then where’s the real harm in that? as long as the lines don’t blur, and no one gets hurt. right?

so much for just a friend.

your hands find his denim jacket, tugging him down to you.

and you’re not sure who moves first, but then you’re kissing him.

it’s not like before. not tentative and shy, but not hurried and needy either. it’s just warm. heavy. your lips move slowly, then it deepens, mouths moulding to one another like you’ve kissed a hundred times before this.

felix’s hands stay respectful, but his body leans to press into yours, aching with held-back tension and everything he didn’t get to do last time.

you pull away only to breathe, his forehead resting atop yours.

“what are we doing?” you whisper.

his tongue darts out, licking the taste of you from his lips. it makes you shiver. “i don’t know. i just know i don’t want to stop.”

you exhale with a smile. “okay.”

“i’ll come back for you,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours. “after your shift. we’ll walk. or chat. or just sit in silence. whatever you want.”

you nod, letting him know your finish time and leaving one last peck on his lips before you part with his hold.

you both go your seperate ways, you walking back to the counter and felix to the door — and when you look back to him, he’s already looking at you. you smile at each other once more before you round the corner, then almost run into emmie.

she’s stood there with an all-knowing grin. you can’t help but duck your head shyly. “so, is mister not-my-boyfriend getting some?”

you pick up a cloth and throw it at her.

she catches it easily, laughing as you blush and scamper off to the kitchen.

⠀

⠀

you spot a glint of that familiar blonde hair through the glass, posted up outside just over an hour before your shift actually ended.

after your initial confusion, and shooting felix a raised brow through the window while he just smiled like it’s nothing, you’re already asking your supervisor to clock off early before you can talk yourself out of it.

she doesn’t look the least bit convinced when you tell her a family emergency’s come up, but she doesn’t pry either.

you push open the door and find him leaning against the short stone wall — now his waiting spot of choice — with a hand tousling his hair and grin already blooming as he greets you. it makes your stomach flip in the way it always does, and yet somehow worse this afternoon. there’s more than just nerves.

you’re blunt as you ask: “you are aware i had another hour left, right?”

felix shrugs it off, eyes soft. “figured i’d rather wait where i get to see you than waste time anywhere else.”

you give a half roll of your eyes which he just chuckles at. the noise makes you feel all clammy. each time you’re around him, it’s harder to ignore just how gorgeous he is. you wanted to count the freckles on his face. trace the veins on his arms. wanted to do a lot of things.

felix nods his head toward the path leading into the deeper part of campus. “c’mon. i wanna show you something.”

you follow without asking where. and once you’re out of open view, tucked between the shadows of buildings, you let felix reach for your hand without protest — softly hooking his fingers around yours as he led the way.

the band room is tucked into a corner of one of the older college buildings. felix lets you walk in first as he unlocks the door, and you take notice of the equipment lining the walls: amps, guitars, tangled cords stretching likes vines across the floor.

“it’s usually livelier,” he flicks on a dim overhead light. “chris and the others packed up early.”

“you come here often?”

“yeah,” he shrugs, leading you toward a worn couch near the far wall. “sometimes i mess around with beats. write some lyrics here and there. nothing serious.”

“you’ll have to sing one for me someday.”

he laughs under his breath as he shakes his head, clearly flustered. it has you leaning closer to him.

“why not? don’t you think you’ll ever do something with them?”

“that’d be the dream. i’m paying a helluva lot to learn about it.” he exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “but nah, i dunno. i’d like to, if i could. my mate chris talks about starting a band.”

“you should take him up on that. you’ve got the talent, i can tell.” the compliment comes effortlessly. “i could totally see you being in a boy band.”

he squints at you, tilting his head. “what, like BTS?” he hums. “don’t think i’ve got the build for that.”

you nudge his knee with yours. “that’s nonsense. but you’ve gotta admit, you definitely have the face for it.”

felix’s grin widens. “maybe for a girl group.”

you both burst into quiet laughter, your shoulders brushing as settle closer into the couch. the growing thrum in your chest is a spotlight on the silence that follows.

it’s a quiet pause that seems to thicken the air. it’s like everything unsaid is sudden bubbling to the surface.

you start. “about last time,”

he glances away, almost seeming ashamed. “ah, you don’t have to say anything about—”

“—i want to.”

you look down at his hands, playing with his shirt hem in his lap. he audibly gulps. “i just— i didn’t mean to push. i didn’t want you to feel like… like i expected anything.”

“you didn’t.” the words come without effort. your hand glides over to his tentatively, and his fingers curl around yours. “i wanted it too.”

you’re amazed he’s managed to doubt his effect on you this much — just the other day he was so eager to pry your legs apart. guess that’s what the heat of the moment will do to a guy.

felix fidgets with your fingers. you smile softly. “everything with you is moving so fast and also too slow at the same time. i don’t know what that means for us, or where the line is, or if there even is one anymore.”

felix shifts closer, voice seeping lower. “i don’t care about the rules. i just care about you and what you want.”

you can’t remember the last time you heard anyone tell you that out loud.

you’re already moving before you think twice about it — one hand coming to his jaw, the other fisting in the denim of his jacket as your mouth finds his. felix groans on your lips like he was at his wits end waiting for this.

each of your kisses with felix so far have been different, and each time you learn something new. this kiss is warm, open, a little desperate. the caution of his hands is fleeting before he’s pulling you towards him with firm hands at your waist.

he exhales your name into your mouth like it hurts to say it. not because he doesn’t want this — but because he’s been holding his breath for too long, and now that you’re kissing him he can finally breathe. because the girl he has to restrain himself from falling to his knees over is engaged — and still she’s here in his arms, wanting him just as bad, kissing him just as hard.

he’s grateful it’s him you chose.

“i told myself i’d stop this,” you whisper out between felix’s hurried movements. “that i’d be good.”

felix parts with you at that, pulling only an inch away, and your face burns hot from the eye contact at this proximity. you go to turn away until his hands cup your face — slender fingers caressing your cheeks so gently, eyes looking at you so reverently you could cry.

“you don’t have to be anything,” he murmurs, all breathless from the flurry of kisses. “just… be here. if you want to be.”

you can’t nod fast enough. of course you want to be here with him. it’s all you ever wanna be, and it’s all the more reason why you shouldn’t. but when felix smiles against your lips, nothing else matters. and in the next breath, they’re on his again.

felix’s movements are sweet; politely restrained. he won’t do more than you’re willing to. but he’s still just a guy, you know? you can tell he’s thought about this way more than he should. you can tell just how excited he is, how he’s intentionally keeping his crotch away from bumping into you. you’d find it adorable, if you weren’t getting more worked up by the minute.

you’ve never wanted a person quite like this before. you could almost think that the feelings were reserved for felix. or maybe you’re just so horny that you’re thinking unrealistic.

it’s unbecoming of a lady the way your tongue slides against his, teeth nipping at his swollen lips, hands grabbing him everywhere like you just can’t get enough. biblical amounts of greed even. felix just giggles onto your lips, matching your energy by trailing his hands up your shirt. his warm touch on your bare skin makes you shiver even though you’re burning up.

his hand rests just below the swell of your tits. you rock your body to force his touch upwards, but when his hand stays stubborn where it is, you take it upon yourself to place your own hand over his and move it. it’s him who gasps as you close his palm around your bra, guiding him to give a firm squeeze of your breast. it’s all so much so quickly and it’s not enough.

you don’t care how desperate you sound as you whine his name — a wordless plea for him to do something, anything. but you care even less once you hear felix’s voice in response.

“can i?”

his voice is hoarse and strained, like a rubber band stretched thin. he might want this even more than you, which is surprising that he’s even asking for permission first.

his hold loosens on your chest, uncertain. his other hand lingers at your thigh, thumb brushing circles into the skin like he’s trying to ground himself. he exhales softly onto your lips, thinking. breathing out the last of his restraint.

“is it okay if i touch you?”

you nod hurriedly, fingers curling tight around his palm on your chest. “yes, felix— please.” you could sob it.

“okay,” his adam’s apple bobs, eyes trailing lower down your form as he takes you in. all of you, all for him. “you tell me when to stop.”

when. you’re so breathless you can only huff a laugh. felix’s expression is genuine as he eyes you.

“won’t wanna,” you murmur, leaning back on your elbows to an easier angle for felix. after unclipping your bra and guiding felix’s hand underneath your shirt, you lay back and let him take the initiative.

his hand plied at your bare breast, pulling soft hums from you as the other moved tentatively up your waist. his fingers twitched at your waistband, skimming lower to right where you wanted them. his thumb swipes hard over your nipple, and you can’t help yourself to rocking your hips up — clothed heat dragging over felix’s palm.

it’s no question how bad you want him.

he tugs your shorts to your hips, careful not too expose too much — still being respectful, even as he intends to literally fingerfuck you — and they sit low enough for him to get a hand in.

his eyes stay on yours the whole time as his touch grazes downward. checking, asking, waiting. his pupils dilate to about twice the size once he finally touches you, fingers dipping into your slick as a whimper leaves your throat. you’ve never felt a touch that wasn’t your own before — and you’ve got a hunch it’ll take you half as long to get off as it does on your own.

felix gathers the wet arousal on his index and middle, swiping upwards to where your nerves are tingling. it elicits a jolt from your cunt through to your whole body, and you moan nastily when felix’s fingers starts drawing circles on your clit. you catch him mutter a deep “fuck” as if he’s the one being touched.

you throw your head back, clenching down on nothing as his hand works at you. it’s like he’s read your mind about aching to feel full — his fingers slide easily into your wet core, pumping you slowly as his thumb fills their absence on your clit.

you can’t tell if he must’ve google searched how to pleasure a woman or if he’s horrifically ran through, because he’s making you see fucking stars and you could cum right this second if you stopped trying to hold it off.

your hand claps over your mouth as you become suddenly aware of the downright pornographic moans that’d been coming from you. but it doesn’t muffle you for long before felix’s hand is prying yours away, tilting your chin downwards to face him. you feel way too seen. and it’s more than just the sex.

“please let me taste you.” his deep voice cracks, eyes almost entirely black. you’d kill to see how hard he must be in his jeans right now.

you let out a strained noise as a reply, something between a laugh and a moan, your head tipping back into the couch cushion while his fingers slowed their pace. you’d let him do absolutely anything if he asked like that. that heavy breathing lust. he’s not even trying to be sexy — he just exists and is, in the way honesty can be. desperate and patient and full of hope as if it’d be anything but a yes.

“am i allowed to?” he asks again, uncertain. he has to hear your consent in words.

“yes, felix.” you breathe out, hand threading through his blonde locks in anticipation.

he pulls his hand out from under the fabric, fingers hooking around your waistband to give a stronger tug this time. you even raise your pelvis upwards for felix to slide them down your legs. he gently places your clothes on the armrest of the couch, thoughtful — then he’s getting down on his elbows himself, face at level with your heat. you gulp at the exposure.

“wanna make you feel good,” his arms hook around your legs to pull you closer, breath hot on your cunt.

“i do, felix,” you manage to pant out, fist twisting in his hair.

guilt twists deep in your chest as he hovers there, a phantom of a ring still heavy on your finger — yet your body leans into him like it has no doubt at all. like it’s certain about what it wants, who it needs. and once his lips pucker to press a soft kiss to your clit, tongue darting out to lick a stripe with curious precision, all reason melts into heat.

you gasp, hips twitching before his arm’s draping over your stomach, keeping you in place as he leaves kitten licks on your buzzing cunt. it’s not long before he’s flatting his tongue against you, fingers coming back to prod at your damp entrance.

you’re crying out as three digits slip inside you, felix’s tongue swiping quick over your clit.

“is this good?” he stops to asks, too concerned for someone who already has you on the fringes of an orgasm. “am i doing good?”

you nod, biting your lip hard to keep from letting out a particularly filthy moan. words are beyond you now, all focus channelled into lasting as long as your body will allow. you just hope felix can tell the last thing you want is for him to stop.

and he doesn’t (because he’s not blind). if anything, he grows bolder, cheeks hollowing to suck tight on your clit, undeterred by your fist about to rip the hair out of his scalp. and when his fingers curl to hit that soft spot of flesh, you’re gone.

your thighs shake around his head as you cum, overwhelming pleasure washing over your whole body as felix steadily holds you through it.

you know you’re going to think about this moment every time you lie in bed under the same roof as your fiancé. you’re going to feel felix’s hand knuckle-deep in your pussy, his tongue relentless on your clit, his breath bated like he’s unraveling at the same time as you.

you don’t know how long you were even cumming for once you’re finally coming down from it, eyes screwed shut as you catch your breath — body lying limp in felix’s hold. he just peppers the inside of your thigh with soft pecks as he waits for you to gather yourself.

and when you finally glance down at him, he’s smiling like you hung the stars.

and you decide you’ll give him the whole damn galaxy.

you reach for him, pulling him up by his jacket collar until his body’s hovering over your chest. he watches as your hand reaches down, knuckles brushing over the bulge in his jeans. his breath hitches, and he nods, unable to speak.

you consider teasing him — asking him to say it in words like he made you do before, but you just can’t find it in you to postpone touching him any more than this.

he keeps himself propped up with his arms resting by your head, a hand cradling the side of your facez you unzip his pants, and he shudders under the attention — just barely restraining a buck of his hips into your hand.

“i haven’t.. done much.” your palm cups the outline of him over the fabric, uncertain.

“me either.” he admits, voice cracking. you’re surprised — but not complaining. the thought of being his first like he was to you makes your core pulse.

you’re too impatient to get his pants all the way off, instead settling on shoving your pants under his boxers and wrapping your fingers around his length.

you stroke him slowly, the way you imagine he might like it. the way he started with you before you riled him up. your fist sets a steady pace as you pump his length, adding a twist of your wrist at the top that has his hips stuttering.

you don’t take your eyes off him, watching the way his face scrunches and his mouth parts in beautifully deep moans. it doesn’t take long before he’s panting above you, forehead falling to your shoulder as he finishes in your hand — a groan rumbling at your ear as his hips jerk one last time, cum spilling across his stomach.

you both just sit there for a moment. let the room fill with the scent of your bodies and the noise of your breathing in sync. finally, felix laughs breathlessly.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, lifting his head. “that was quick.”

you just smile, still dazed. “that was perfect.”

he kisses your cheek. “you’re perfect.” then he kisses your temple, your jaw, before smothering your face with kisses. you lay there like that for a moment, giggles and sweat in the air.

you help felix clean up with whatever stray tissues you can scavenge from your bag. he hikes his shirt up his chest for you, shyly facing away as he exposes his toned stomach splattered with his mess. you take notice of the happy trail peaking out from his waistband, and you swallow down the urge to leap at him and go for round two.

it aches, how domestic it could feel. felix holding your hair out of your face as you wipe his stomach, pulling your pants up for you and brushing the creases out of your shirt. it’s all tender and quiet and so terribly forbidden.

you both know that this is only going to get harder to stop.

by the time you both make it out to the lake, your cheeks still ache from how much you’d been smiling.

felix walks beside you, back of his hand brushing yours every so often. on purpose, you think, though he pretends not to notice. the sky’s soft and pink now, dusk spilling its colours in pastels lazily across the water. there’s a breeze through your hair, and the swans drift slowly across the surface when they take notice of the audience.

you both sit down on the same bench from before, legs still a tad unsteady. it comes from something deeper than just what happened in that quiet little band room.

felix nudges your arm, chin jutting towards the lake. “see that one? the one with the lopsided feather on its wing?”

you squint, spotting the swan in question. “hm?”

“that one’s mine.”

you huff a laugh. “yours? what makes you think you get a swan?”

he grins, seeming glad you asked. “because it’s got no clue where it’s going, swims in circles half the time, and looks a little too soft for its own good.”

“are you calling it a mess?”

“i’m saying it’s chillin’,” he says, a little more seriously. “even if it’s kinda lost. like me, i guess.”

your smile falters for a second. then grows. “so that’s the one you’re claiming, huh?”

he shrugs, eyes warm. “well, someone already claimed the pretty one.”

there’s a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he watches the lake again. “i think yours is over there.” he snaps his fingers, pointing towards a lone swan preening its feathers by the reeds. “she looks like you. all elegant. might be plotting something.”

you snort. “i’m plotting now?”

“mhm, plotting how to steal my heart and then leave me for dead,” he teases, eyes flicking over to meet yours. “too late though. first part’s already done.”

you roll your eyes, trying not to show how your stomach flips at that. “you’re such a sap.”

“only for you.”

the words hang between you, light and heavy at the same time. he means it in jest — kind of. but the dip of his voice gives him away. there’s a truth tucked in the centre of it that neither of you can really ignore.

you hug your knees to your chest, eyes following the swan. she’s so pretty. effortlessly unbothered.

you wonder what that might feel like.

this is only going to get harder. harder to stop, to justify. the more he touches you like that, makes you laugh like this — the more you feel like the girl you used to be, before all the duties of the adult world started strangling the life out of her.

the more felix looks at you like he’s already yours, even when you know you can’t be his.

you don’t speak any of it out loud. if just for a moment, maybe nothing outside of this exists if you stop thinking about it all. you just lean your head on his shoulder and let him take your hand.

felix doesn’t say anything to fill the silence either. he just holds on — until the sky fades to a dusty orange and your time for the day has come to an end.

⠀

⠀

felix starts showing up more often, enough to be considered part of the furniture. not just at opening, when you’re groggy and spacing out the hum of the espresso machine — and not just at closing, when the place quiets and you sneak him pastries on their way to the bin.

now he comes in halfway through your shift. sometimes multiple pop-ins a day. he’s started a bad habit of leaving his classes early just to watch you from a corner booth: hoodie pulled up, laptop open on some document he’s not even touching, pretending to work while he waits for you to glance his way.

you always scold him for it. warn him that he’s going to fall behind, that the term finals are coming up so he’s supposed to be serious about this.

“and i am,” he simply says every damn time through a cheeky grin. “i’m just more serious about you.”

you roll your eyes, might toss a balled up napkin in his direction. but you’re smiling. always are with him.

there’s a rhythm to the sneaking around now. an art even. the stolen kisses in the camera’s blind spots. texting him when your coworkers turn their backs. felix’s “accidental” touches inching higher — palm brushing your back, fingers hooking yours — riskier.

you’ve accepted the affair. not out loud, and maybe not fully. but you’ve made peace with it in your own, quiet way. told yourself that it can be your little guilty pleasure — a last gasp of rebellion before you marry and seal yourself into a life that was decided for you. a life that, truthfully, isn’t all that bad.

except felix makes it increasingly difficult to wave it off as just a fling. you see it in the way he looks at you — no longer in a rush to memorise you, like he’s certain he’s got forever to now. you hear it in the way he talks about “someday” like it’s a real place. a future where you don’t have to go home to someone else. a world where he can be the one waiting for you.

and sometimes, you start to think it too.

you haven’t told him the full story yet — if there even is an at all. you’d only ever alluded to it: the engagement, the man behind the gold ring, the empty house you so often arrive to.

it started long before either of you. with your families, friends for generations. business intertwined. it was a good match on paper. he’s only a little older, successful, made a name for himself. and you’re meant to be the cherry on top of it all: a beautiful, young fiancé.

you didn’t have to love each other. just serve to honour the fellowship of your families, benefit his image.

you hadn’t known what you were doing with your life at the time. aimless, you’d offered yourself up to the proposition. it gave you a purpose, you figured. something that made you matter. while other people your age were diving into full-time work or studying for degrees, you’d be playing the sweet housewife — all the while you figured out what the hell you wanted to be when you grow up.

it’s not like he’s cruel — some tyrant keeping you locked up in his tower. he really hasn’t forced you into doing anything. but it’s not like any of it holds any weight either. you’re getting married, sure. but it’s a show put on. you could be replaced by any other girl and nothing would change. the only time you get to choose anything is in odette’s. when you make silly little doodles in coffee cups and when you exist around felix.

he doesn’t know all of that. but he knows enough.

one afternoon you’re curled together in the music room again, listening to one of his friends’ demos crackle through his old laptop speakers, when felix randomly decides to get deep. he admits to you why he came back that second time. why he couldn’t stop coming back.

“i think i felt invisible before you,” he murmured, twisting a string of your hair around his pointer. “like i was there, but no one really saw me. y’know?”

you glance at him, listening. he turns his gaze at the ceiling like it might offer him courage. he continues:

“that first day, you didn’t just take my order and forget me after. you took the time to draw that little swan, like you somehow knew i feed them. and knowing you now, you probably would’ve remembered my face if i had just kept my darned head up that first time.” he chuckles.

you don’t have to say anything. just reach out and take his hand.

“it might be dumb, but i think i needed it at the time. you made me feel like i had a place here. like i mattered.”

“of course you do,” you give a reassuring squeeze of his fingers.

he squeezes back. “then let me take you to see your family sometime. even just the one day. just to remind you of where you come from. of who you are.”

days ago you had only off-handedly mentioned the fact that you hadn’t seen your family in a while. the only common face in your days was your husband-to-be, your supervisor at work, and now felix.

you don’t answer. just put your head on his shoulder until your phone alarm goes off — meaning it was time to go your separate ways once again.

his hugs linger for a little longer, touch a little tighter each time. you’re worried that one day, he won’t have the heart to let go.

⠀

⠀

you promised felix you'd meet him at the usual time. the same as always after your shift: meet him by the bike racks, share a quiet walk before sunset, swing by the band room for a quick stop if you had the time.

but today, odette’s had been short-staffed, so you found yourself under the watch of your supervisor more often than usual. and it’s not even because they were less workers — it felt like she was intentionally hovering over you, too attentive over what you were doing. 

you started to worry in the silence. when did she start suspecting you? had someone told her about a blonde boy coming over far too often? or perhaps someone had spotted you in a comprising way with felix and full-well snitched? 

you couldn't risk finding out just what that is. not when you've already been pressing your luck far too much. 

you just needed a moment to cool down. to convince yourself your supervisor’s curt orders and lingering glances meant nothing. so you stalled. stacked boxes in preparation for tomorrow, deep-cleaned the sink drain because why not. you told yourself he’d understand if you needed a few more minutes — which ticks by to over half an hour without you realising. 

when you finally make it out, slipping your apron off and hurrying down the back stairs, he's still waiting. hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, walking lazy circles around the racks, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the pavement.

and he looks up when he hears the door. smile. that gentle, sun-bleached smile that always steals your breath away.

“hey,” he calls, relieved. “thought you might’ve forgotten about me.”

before you can answer, he’s reaching out instinctively, maybe to brush your hair away or drag his knuckles down your cheek. but whatever it’s meant to be, you flinch — a subtle step back, and his hand drops mid-air. that smile falters and you want to just die. 

“i— sorry,” he murmurs, quiet. unsure. “i didn’t mean to— are you okay?”

you don’t answer right away, too busy berating yourself for making him feel bad over nothing. his hand falls back to his side. “i’m sorry.” 

you shake your head quickly, reaching for him. “no no, it’s not you— felix, please,” your voice is close to begging, but you don’t care. “i swear, it’s not. i just—”

you sigh, frustrated, and he just watches you for a moment. the silence between you grows heavy on your shoulders.

“you sure?” he treads lightly. “because you’ve never—”

“i’m fine,” you affirm, a little too sharp at the edges. “just tired.”

he nods slowly, flashes a quick smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes. you can tell he doesn’t believe you.

you want to speak your truth — that little voice in the corner of your mind still reminding you that this can’t last, so you’re trying to keep your heart from getting too attached. and yet, still failing.

you want to tell him that you’re fucking scared.

but instead of any of that, you just ask, “walk me to the lake?”

and he nods, settling on burying his hands back in his pockets instead of reaching for you again.

back inside, your supervisor watches the back window with her arms crossed. emmie’s stacking cups behind the counter, trying too hard not to look up.

“emmie — a word?”

she reluctantly turns.

“she’s been leaving in a rush lately. and that boy — i’ve been seeing him outside too much. you remember who her fiancé is, don’t you?”

emmies stays quiet. the supervisor narrows her eyes.

“you need to tell me if there’s something going on. because it’s not just her job on the line. you realise that, yes?”

emmie meets her stare. “i don’t know anything.”

“you’re certain?” the supervisor deadpans, not the slightest bit convinced.

“she’s not stupid.” emmie states, and leaves it at that before walking off. adding a quiet “neither am i” under her breath.

and unfortunately, it’s not enough.

the late afternoon settles over the town like a sigh. the sky’s blue bleeds into an orange, light seeping between the tree leaves and onto the concrete of your usual path. the campus is a nice quiet, save for the breeze and distant cars as students and staff leave the grounds.

there’s enough of a chill in the air to be an excuse for felix to stay close, shoulder bumping yours every so often like he’s gauging you. when you finally face him with a smile, having grown tired of beating yourself up, it’s when he speaks.

he nudges your arm. “so, i’ve been wondering..”

you glance at him, curious.

“that first time,” he continues, tone careful, almost shy. “in the band room. how’d you know how to do that?”

you scoff. “i should be asking you.” in comparison, you barely even touched felix — while he had reached depths your own fingers couldn’t.

he just chuckles, looking away with a faint blush on his cheeks. “well, i.. uh, did my research.”

you squint at him, suggestive. he groans.

“no, it’s not what you’re thinking— well, maybe not exactly, but— look, i just didn’t want to screw it up, alright?”

you laugh, fond. “of course you didn’t.”

he peeks at you from under those long lashes. “well that’s good. ‘cause i’ve got a second chance now, don’t i?”

“says who?”

you both stop in your tracks, felix backing you off the path. your feet land on soft grass. “you’re walking with me, aren’t you?”

you roll your eyes. you plant a hand on his chest, giving a light shove. it’s meant to be playful. but the words that follow are what had been weighing on your mind.

“you need to be less careless, felix. we both do.” you sigh. “we can’t be acting like this out in the open.”

he nods, serious now. “i know. c’mere,”

“no.” your lip curls at the corner, watching his expression drop. “there’s not enough time for the band room.”

for a moment, he stills as he thinks silently, before he’s taking you by the hand.

felix pulls you gently towards a dirt trail — a desire path winding behind science block and down to a patch of overgrown greenery, shielded by a thicket of trees. one of these days you have to remember to ask how he knows all these spots.

felix lays his jacket down on the grass, patting the spot like a gentleman inviting you to sit. you raise a brow.

“here, felix? really?”

he grins. “not out of the open enough for you?”

despite your sarcastic reluctance, you sit anyway, brushing a few stray leaves as felix settles in front of you — crouching between your legs. his hands are finding yours in the next breath, mouths meeting the millisecond after you nod as permission.

you laugh quietly onto his lips as he kisses you, still caught on him admitting to researching in preparation of getting physical with you. it’s so cute and thoughtful and damn was he a great learner.

the noise catches in your throat when his fingers find the home they’ve made at your waist, hot mouth latching onto the curve of your jaw.

right there under the canopy of leaves, you let him take you on the grass. spread your legs like you’ve made a bad habit of doing lately. fell apart under him as he made paintings with his tongue, naturally returning the favour with an eager hand.

⠀

⠀

the front door clicks shut behind you. you toe off your shoes and toss your bag with no regard for noise, already mapping out what you want to do around the place before you’re not home alone anymore. you’re always coincidentally tired and not in the mood to talk the instant he comes home.

except, when you turn the corner into the kitchen, those thoughts hightail.

your fiancé sits at the dining table, hands clasped, sleeves rolled up neatly like he’s just come from work — or like he’s been waiting. no television murmuring in the background. no phone in hand, rather placed faced down on the table.

your pulse kicks, but you try to smile like you’re surprised. pleasantly, should be.

“didn’t expect you back so early.”

he gestures to the chair across from him. “sit.”

you don’t even attempt to protest.

he waits until you’re settled into your seat before he moves, sliding something across the table. a folded scrap of paper bumps your fingers.

your fiancé watches you with cool, unreadable eyes as you unfold it. and then, your heart’s beating in your throat.

eight digits in smudged ink stare back at you.

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[straykeedz-recs]

“Too Much”

𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ Hyung Line x Female!reader ˒˓ established relationship. 𝓰enre/ angst, hurt-no comfort, they lose their cool and say your presence is too much, so you give them what they asked for, space. (a.k.a the classic they call you clingy trope).

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — here’s my next installment of hurt for y’all! Let me know what u think! <3

Maknae line

Bang Chan

You’d always admired how hard Chan worked. It was part of what made you fall in love with him. the unwavering focus, the fire in his eyes, the way he poured his soul into every lyric, every beat. He cared deeply about what he created, about the people around him. About you.

At least, he used to.

Lately, it felt like you were the last thing on his mind.

The comeback was fast approaching. A new concept, new choreography, endless hours in the studio. He was more exhausted than usual, coming home late, answering in clipped tones, sometimes not answering at all.

You tried to be understanding. You didn’t push. You reminded yourself that this happened every comeback season.

But this time... something felt different.

He was distant. Irritable. On edge in a way he hadn't been before. You thought maybe if you showed up for him more,reminded him that he wasn’t alone, it would help.

So, for the third time that week, you brought him his favorite drink. It was a small gesture, but you hoped it would let him breathe for just a moment.

When you stepped into the practice room, the tension hit you before anyone said a word.

Felix smiled nervously. Seungmin gave a subtle shake of his head, eyes flicking toward Chan. The rest of the boys barely looked up from their spots on the floor, drenched in sweat and fatigue.

You approached him cautiously. “Hey, babe,” you said, voice light, smile warm. “Thought you could use a break.”

Chan didn’t look up. His laptop was open in front of him, a mess of scribbled notes beside it. His cap was pulled low over his face.

“Not now,” he muttered.

Your smile faltered. “I won’t stay long. I just—”

“Seriously, can you not?”

The room went silent. Even the music paused.

Your heart dropped.

“I’m in the middle of something important,” he snapped, standing up suddenly. “You keep showing up unannounced, texting nonstop, needing to talk or check in or whatever else—and it’s just... it’s too much.”

You blinked, frozen in place. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just thought—”

“I know what you thought,” he cut in, voice sharp, frustrated. “You always think you’re helping. But honestly? It feels like I can’t breathe. I have this comeback hanging over me, I’m producing all of the tracks, rehearsing choreography every damn day, and then I’ve got you, smothering me like I’m some project that needs saving.”

The words sliced through you. You felt the eyes of the other members on your back, but none of that mattered as much as his, or rather, the way he wouldn’t even look at you.

“Chan... I didn’t realize—”

“I can’t do this right now,” he said, coldly final. “I can’t be your boyfriend and your emotional crutch and your entire support system while also doing everything else. So just—go. Leave me alone.”

You stood there for a long second. It felt like your lungs had stopped working. Like you were underwater.

He didn’t take it back. Didn’t soften. He just turned away.

You set the drink down gently on the table beside him.

“Okay,” you whispered, and left.

That night, you didn’t cry. Not right away.

You sat on your couch, staring at the wall, trying to make sense of it. You replayed his voice again and again in your head, trying to find the moment it had all gone wrong. Had you been too much? Had you made him feel trapped?

You didn’t mean to smother him. You just loved him. You missed him. You thought maybe your love could carry the weight of both your silences.

But maybe he was right. Maybe you were too much.

So you did what he asked.

You left him alone.

You didn’t text him the next morning. Or the one after. You didn’t drop by rehearsals. You stopped liking his teaser posts. You muted the group chat so you wouldn’t see when the boys sent updates from the studio.

It hurt. Everything did. But you weren’t going to chase someone who made it clear your presence wasn’t wanted.

You’d Let him breathe. Trying not to smother him.

Four days later, a text.

“Hey, you okay?”

You stared at your screen for a long moment before locking it.

Three more hours passed.

“Guess you’re busy too now haha”

That stung in a different way. Like he was trying to brush it off. Make it normal again.

But it wasn’t normal. Not anymore.

“Want to come over later?”

You didn’t reply.

Two days later, another text.

“I haven’t heard from you. Everything alright?”
“I miss you.”

You read the messages. Then read them again. It would be so easy to reply. To give in. To pretend nothing had happened. But you remembered his tone. His words. The way he made you feel like loving him was a problem.

So you stayed quiet.

By the last message, he showed up at your door. It was nearly 10 PM, and the knock was soft, hesitant.

You opened it slowly.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, dark circles under his eyes, jaw tense, hair unstyled under a hoodie. He smelled like laundry detergent and rain.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough.

You didn’t speak.

“I—I’ve been trying to reach you.”

You nodded once. Still no words.

He shifted awkwardly. “Can we talk?”

“I don’t think there’s much to say.”

Chan flinched. “Come on,You’ve been ghosting me for a week.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been giving you what you wanted.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You said I was smothering you. That I was too much. So I gave you space. I disappeared.”

He opened his mouth to respond but hesitated.

You continued, arms crossed over your chest. “You don’t get to act like everything’s fine now. Like you didn’t tear me apart in front of your members. Like I didn’t spend the last week wondering if the person I loved stopped loving me back.”

“I didn’t stop loving you,” he said instantly.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I didn’t mean what I said—at least, not like that,” he rushed. “I was stressed. I was overwhelmed. I just needed a second to breathe, and I snapped, and I... I’m sorry.”

You stared at him for a long moment. Your heart ached. God, you wanted to believe him.

But part of you still felt like that girl standing in the middle of a practice room with everyone watching as her boyfriend told her she was too much.

He reached for your hand, but you took a step back.

And then, calmly, quietly, you said, “Sorry. I wouldn’t want to smother you.”

The words hit harder than you expected. You saw the way his shoulders dropped, his eyes widened. Like he’d finally felt what you’d been feeling all week.

“I—”

You gave him a small, sad smile. “Good luck with the comeback.”

Then you shut the door.

And this time, when the tears came, you let them.

Lee Know

You knew Minho wasn’t himself lately.

The long tour had worn him down in ways even he didn’t acknowledge. The jet lag, the irregular meals, the lack of privacy. The cameras, the sound checks, the pressure to perform perfectly every night in a different city.

He was running on fumes, and now, barely home, they were already preparing for the next comeback.

You missed him. Not just being around him, but him. The soft version of Minho, the one who held your hand during horror movies just because he liked the way you held him close.

The one who danced in the kitchen with you at midnight. The one who kissed your forehead when you started to overthink things.

Lately, it felt like all you got were quick nods, tired sighs, and “I’ll call you later”s that never came.

You weren’t mad at him. You just wanted to help.

So you cooked for him, brought him coffee, sent sweet good morning texts, and offered to stop by when he had gaps in his schedule. You thought maybe you were being supportive.

But apparently, he didn’t agree.

It started with the flowers.

You dropped by the company building with a bouquet, nothing huge or flashy, just simple tulips and a tiny card that said, “I’m proud of you. My Love.”

He wasn’t at the front, so you left it with one of the staff and texted him a heads-up.

“Dropped something for you at the desk. Just a little encouragement. ♡ Don’t work too hard.”

No reply.

You figured he was busy. No big deal.

But when he did get back to you later that night, it was... off.

“Why do you keep showing up?”

You stared at the message.

“What do you mean?”

“The flowers. The texts. The calls. I just... I need space. I’m already dealing with too much right now.”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Your stomach turned.

“I didn’t realize I was bothering you. I just wanted to make things easier.”

“It’s not easier. It’s more. I don’t have the energy to deal with everything and be glued to you 24/7.”

You read and re-read the text, letting his words settle like a weight on your chest.

The next day, you tried to apologize.

He agreed to meet at his apartment, and for a second, when you saw him standing in the doorway, you thought maybe things would be okay. He looked tired, deeply, achingly tired, but he let you in.

You sat on the couch. He didn’t sit next to you.

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” you started gently. “I just thought... maybe if I showed you I was thinking of you, it’d help. You’ve been so quiet lately, I wasn’t sure how else to connect.”

Minho didn’t respond right away. He crossed his arms, jaw tight.

“I didn’t ask for that,” he finally said.

“I know,” you said quickly. “I just—I was trying to be there for you.”

“Being there for me doesn’t mean hovering over me all the time.”

The words came out too sharp. You flinched.

“I wasn’t trying to hover,” you said quietly. “I missed you.”

He scoffed under his breath. “You always miss me. Every second I’m gone, you need to call, or text, or show up with something. You can’t ever just leave things alone.”

Your chest tightened. “Minho—”

“I’m serious,” he said, cutting you off. “I’m exhausted. We’ve been on the road for months. I haven’t slept a full night in a week. We’re jumping into a comeback with barely time to breathe, and you’re constantly in my ear or at my door like—like I’m your entire world or something.”

He laughed bitterly. “It’s clingy. It’s annoying. I need room to think.”

You sat in stunned silence, each word echoing like a slap to the face.

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” you said, voice breaking despite your best efforts.

He sighed, like even that was too much.

“I can’t keep doing this. Not like this. I just... I need a break from all of it.”

You nodded slowly. You didn’t trust your voice anymore.

He didn’t ask you to leave, but you stood anyway, moving quietly to the door. He didn’t stop you.

“Hope you get some rest,” you whispered, and left.

You didn’t text him after that.

Not even when the teaser dropped. Not even when the fans started piecing together the concept and the boys trended for hours.

You muted the notifications. You stayed off social media.

Your friends noticed the shift. You weren’t smiling the same. You weren’t checking your phone every few minutes.

You just... existed.

A week later, he messaged you.

“Did you see the teaser?”
“You always get excited for this stuff…”

You didn’t reply.

Two more days passed.

“I know you’re upset.”
“Can we talk?”

Still nothing.

“You don’t have to ignore me like this. I didn’t mean everything I said.”

But he did, didn’t he? That was the worst part. The cruelty wasn’t some accident, it was chosen. Sharp words with full intent behind them.

The next message was a simple:

“Please.”

And that was when you opened the chat.

You stared at his name for a while, thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Eventually, you typed:

“Sorry. I didn’t want to be clingy.”

You saw the “typing…” bubble appear immediately.

Then it stopped.

A minute passed. Then two.

But nothing came through.

Just silence.

Changbin

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been there before.

The 3RACHA studio was practically sacred ground, that’s where their music was made, late-night inspiration sparked, and countless breakthroughs happened.

You’d brought meals there before, sat quietly while they fine-tuned demos, even helped brainstorm lyrics once or twice when the guys were stuck on a concept.

You never overstayed. You never interrupted.

You just loved seeing him in his element. The way his fingers danced across the keyboard. The way his face lit up when a melody came together. You wanted to remind him, especially now with the comeback pressure closing in, that you were rooting for him, even on his worst days.

So when he told you that he and the guys were working late again, you figured a quick visit wouldn’t hurt. You brought him his favorite drinks, warm snacks, and a quiet smile.

You knocked once, gently, then cracked the door open.

“Hey,” you said softly, peeking inside.

Changbin looked up from the monitor. Chan was seated beside him, headphones around his neck, and Jisung was half-sprawled on the couch scribbling something in his notebook.

Your boyfriend didn’t smile. He blinked like he hadn’t fully registered your presence, then frowned.

“What are you doing here?”

You lifted the bag slightly, trying to hide how his tone made your chest tighten. “Thought you could use some caffeine. And food.”

Chan gave you a polite smile. “Thank you, That’s thoughtful.”

Jisung raised a hand in greeting. “You’re a lifesaver.”

But Changbin didn’t soften. He stood up, jaw tight, and took the bag from your hands. He didn’t say thank you. Instead, he motioned toward the hallway.

“Can I talk to you outside?”

You followed him into the corridor, nerves already stirring in your stomach. The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he turned toward you, exhaling sharply.

“Why are you here?”

“I just—wanted to stop by. I figured maybe you were hungry or—”

“We’re in the middle of something important,” he interrupted. “We’ve been working on this track all day. You showing up like this, it throws everything off.”

Your brows furrowed. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I wasn’t going to stay long, I just thought—”

“That’s the problem,” he snapped. “You never think. You just act like showing up is always okay. Like I don’t have deadlines or pressure or an entire group relying on me to pull this together.”

You recoiled slightly. “I wasn’t trying to get in the way. I just missed you.”

He laughed once, short and bitter. “You always miss me. Every time I blink, there’s another text, another call, another pop-in. I can’t even breathe without you checking in.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“I love you,” you said softly. “I’m just trying to support you.”

“Well, it’s not support—it’s clingy,” he said, words like knives. “And right now? I don’t have the patience for it.”

Your throat tightened, tears already threatening to rise.

He ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath, “God, it’s just too much sometimes.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to apologize, or to defend yourself, but he didn’t wait. He turned and walked back into the studio without another glance, the door closing with a finality that felt louder than any shout.

You stood in the hallway for a moment, blinking hard, trying to will yourself not to cry in the hallway of JYP.

You didn’t text him after that.

He didn’t text you either. Not that night, not the next morning. Not even when the demo version of the album went up and fans went wild over the 3RACHA snippet.

You listened to it once, heart heavy.

It was a good track.

You still didn’t reply to his post.

Three days later, the first text came.

“You okay?”

You didn’t respond.

“I’m sorry if I was harsh. I was in a bad place mentally. Still kind of am.”

You stared at the screen. The words felt... hollow. Like he knew he should say them, but didn’t really feel them.

You remembered the way his face looked when he called you clingy.

Two more days.

“Can we talk?”
“I’ve been thinking about you.”

Still nothing.

“You always said you wanted to be there for me. So where are you now?”

That one hurt. Like he forgot he pushed you away. Like your absence was suddenly your fault.

On the latest attempt, he called. You let it ring. Then you sent one message:

“Didn’t want to show up uninvited again.”

The typing bubble appeared. Then disappeared. Then came back. Then stopped. But no message came through.

You locked your phone and set it on your nightstand. For once, the silence was yours.

Hyunjin

You hadn’t seen Hyunjin in nearly a week.

The last time you talked, like really talked, he was curled up in bed next to you, whispering about how tired he was, how heavy everything felt. You brushed his hair back, kissed his temple, and told him to rest. You promised to be patient. Understanding. There for him, even if he wasn’t all the way there with you right now.

But seven days later, with only three texts and one missed call between you, that patience started to ache. You didn’t want to pressure him. Still, the distance hurt more than you expected.

When you found out from Chan’s Instagram story that Hyunjin had a full-day photoshoot near your side of the city, you decided to surprise him. Not with fanfare. Just a visit. A familiar face. Something soft in the middle of his rigid schedule.

You’d done it before, he always lit up when he saw you walk in with his favorite iced Americano and a smile.

So you brought one. You even grabbed an extra muffin for him and a second one to offer any of the stylists or staff, because you knew how those long shoots went.

What you didn’t expect was how different it felt as soon as you arrived.

The set was bright and cold. Too clinical.

You spotted Hyunjin on the backdrop across the room, mid-pose, intense expression, hair swept back, body language poised. The stylists were adjusting lights. The creative director was giving cues through a mic.

You didn’t want to interrupt, so you waited by the refreshment table. Quiet. Watching him from afar.

He looked tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that made your heart twist.

You turned to walk back down the hall to find an assistant you could leave the drink with when you heard a familiar voice from behind you.

Hyunjin.

And another voice, maybe one of the creative team or his manager. You didn’t mean to listen, but you froze when you heard your name.

“She’s probably going to show up again. She’s everywhere lately.”

His voice wasn’t affectionate. It wasn’t teasing.

It was exasperated.

“I can’t go a day without her needing something, checking in, asking if I’m okay, trying to drop by. She means well, I guess, but I just...I can’t deal with it right now.”

“Honestly, it’s too much.”

You stood completely still. Coffee cup in your hand trembling slightly.

The staffer laughed nervously. “You should tell her to back off for a bit.”

“I tried. But she just keeps showing up.”

He sounded embarrassed.

Like loving you in front of others was something to apologize for.

“I feel like I can’t breathe without her being there.”

That one cut the deepest.

You waited. Hoped he’d take it back. Say something like, “I don’t mean it like that.”

But nothing came.

You didn’t even realize you’d stepped back until you bumped into someone behind you, the coffee cup slipping from your fingers.

It hit the floor with a sharp clatter.

Heads turned.

Including Hyunjin’s.

His eyes met yours down the hall, shock widening them. Regret creeping in too late.

You turned and left without a word.

You didn’t go far. Just to the stairwell.

You needed air. Your hands were shaking.

You sat on the cold concrete steps for a few minutes, gathering yourself. Then the door pushed open behind you.

“Hey—”

You didn’t look up. “Don’t.”

He took a step forward. “Let me explain.”

“You already did,” you said, voice flat. “You just didn’t think I’d hear it.”

Hyunjin let out a breath. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Didn’t you?” you cut him off. “Because it sounded pretty clear. I’m everywhere. I don’t give you space. I’m too much. That’s what you think of me?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

“I came here because I missed you. Because I care,” you continued, voice rising. “Not to ruin your day. Not to be clingy or whatever you’ve built me up to be in your head.”

“I didn’t say you ruined anything,” he muttered.

“You didn’t have to!” you snapped. “You already said I’m too much to handle. That being loved by me is inconvenient. That I’m some obsessive girl who can’t leave you alone.”

“Don’t twist my words,” he said tightly.

“I didn’t twist anything,” you said. “I just repeated them.”

A beat of silence.

He took a step closer. “You don’t understand what it’s been like lately, everything’s piling up. The comeback, rehearsals, brand meetings, promotions, image work. I can’t even sleep without dreaming of camera flashes. And you showing up today, here—it just made things worse.”

You blinked.

He saw the shift in your expression, but he didn’t stop.

“I can’t be your whole world right now,” he said, harsher now. “I’m barely surviving my own.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing it.

“Okay.”

You stepped past him, toward the door.

He didn’t follow.

You didn’t text him that night.

But he texted you.

“Made it through the shoot. It was brutal.”

You didn’t reply.

“I didn’t mean to say all that the way I did. I was stressed.”

Two more days passed.

“I hate that you’re mad at me.”

“Can we talk?”

You stared at his messages for a long time. They didn’t sound like apologies. They sounded like attempts to go back to normal. Like nothing had happened.

Then finally.

“Please don’t shut me out.”

So you typed one thing back:

“Sorry. I didn’t know being in your life was making it worse.”

You hit send. And blocked him.

Just for now. Just so you both could finally breathe.

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[straykeedz-recs]

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞. || 𝙝.𝙝𝙟 (𝗠)

x𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘨. 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘶𝘯𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘦. 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘫𝘶𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.

x𝐰𝐜: 𝟷𝟿.𝟸𝚔

x𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯! 𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘫𝘪𝘯

x𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘶; 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳; 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴-𝘵𝘰-𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘤, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘱𝘰𝘱 𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.

x𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬, 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹 (𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳), 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘋𝘕𝘐.

𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮 || 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸

–

it’s only a little over an hour until the ceremony is set to begin, and much to your surprise, everything is going perfectly.

every candle is lit. every bouquet is fresh and blooming. every aisle sash is in place and all the arbors and arches are constructed.

even the weather is cooperating: the sun is out and the sky is impossibly blue, like it’s been waiting for today to really show off. it’s not too hot out, and an island breeze sweeps lazily through the beachside venue, smelling of sand and salt and hibiscus.

the rose-colored tents dotting the sprawling property stand tall against the summer sky, dunes rolling in the background as the sound of waves crashing drifts in on the wind.

it’s perfect.

and so is minji.

she’s in her wedding dress, hair and makeup done, skin kissed by the sun as you pose together in one of the resort’s many tropical gardens.

her train catches in the wind and billows gorgeously. her veil flutters behind her while her diamond earrings catch the sunlight, glinting at the sides of her face. you’ve never seen your best friend look more radiant— she’s glowing with joy.

you stand by her side as the photographer takes a few more pre-wedding shots, trying hard not to cry and ruin your flawless makeup.

“i can’t believe this is happening,” you whisper through a broad smile.

minji’s not faring much better; you turn your head and see her eyes welling up, smile rivaling yours. “i can’t believe it either,” she whispers back, something awed and eager in her voice.

the photographer finishes your bride and maid-of-honor session and shoos you off, and you help your best friend carry her train as your heels click back into the building.

the bridal suite is lit with champagne laughter and the clink of glass on glass, sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains and pooling on the floor like honey. jihyo turns on a playlist—soft love songs, romantic and airy—and minji starts swaying in place, veil draped delicately over her arm to keep it from creasing. 

wendy hands you another glass, and you raise it in a toast you don’t quite catch as yeji makes a teary-eyed comment, too caught up in how the light makes her earrings shine like stars.

it’s all perfect. every detail. every person. every rosy pink bridesmaid gown and flower-pinned wrist and flawlessly glossed smile.

so of course your brain picks this sparkling moment to think about him.

you haven't seen hyunjin all morning– not since you flung that pillow at his smug, gorgeous face and declared the moment over. and it is. it is. except…

you can’t stop wondering how he’ll look once the wedding party gathers to walk down the aisle.

will he be in black? navy? something stupidly tailored that hugs his shoulders and dips at the waist and makes your heart forget how to beat?

will he smell like ocean salt and that citrusy cologne he sometimes wears when he’s trying to seem casual but secretly wants to impress?

will he say anything when he sees you? or will he just look, and look, and look, until you’re sure your legs won’t carry you down the aisle without stumbling unless he holds your arm captive?

you sip your champagne too quickly. the bubbles catch in your throat, making you cough.

“you okay?” sana asks, smiling gently. she looks so beautiful in her bridesmaid gown; you just know hyunjae’s gonna lose it when he sees her.

you nod and smile back, waving her off with a breathy little laugh. “just emotional,” you say, which isn’t a lie. you are, just… not exactly for the reason everyone thinks.

sana squeezes your arm before she turns back to the mirror, fixing a stray curl and dabbing more lipstick on the edge of her mouth.

yeji’s still crying a little. “can someone check that i’m not getting raccoon eyes?”

“you’re perfect,” wendy assures, blotting the corner of her own lashes with a tissue. “minji’s gonna take one look at you and think she hired a bridal magazine to cast her bridesmaids.”

“honestly, we kind of are the moment,” jihyo hums, sipping champagne as she scrolls through some of the photos the photographer’s already airdropped. “look at this one. i don’t even like my side profile and i’m obsessed.”

you lean over to peek and let out a breathy laugh. “okay, no, you’re hot. that’s such a good pic.”

“someone better be handing these to hyunjae later,” yeji says, sniffing once. “he needs to be grateful for sana in that dress.”

“he’s going to cry,” minji chimes in from her chair, veil now pinned and trailing behind her like a cloud. she’s watching all of you with that soft, overwhelmed look that only brides seem to wear; like she’s been holding her breath for months and now it’s finally safe to let it out.

“i think we all might,” she adds, quieter now. “i’ve never felt this happy in my life.”

the room stills. no one speaks for a second.

and then wendy says, “okay, okay, but if i ruin my makeup i’m blaming you.”

there’s laughter again, bright and loving. jihyo pulls minji into a careful hug, mindful of the veil, and you snap a quick photo of them wrapped around each other, half-drunk on joy.

you feel a little bit like you’re floating– like you’re walking through a dream where everything smells like island blossoms and prosecco, where every moment’s been touched up with golden light and soft focus.

it should be easy to stay present in all of it. to just feel lucky. to stay feeling full.

but every now and then– every time the wind stirs the curtains or a new song filters in through the speaker– you don’t know why, but you think of hyunjin again.

how he might look if he were here, standing against the doorframe with that bored, bemused little smile. whether he’d say anything, or just tip his glass in your direction like a dare. whether he’s already seen you in your dress– or if he’s still in the groom’s suite, wondering the same thing.

“you okay?” minji asks softly as she eases down beside you on the edge of the chaise.

you nod. smile wistfully. “just emotional,” you say again.

this time, it’s true.

–

the breeze picks up as the music starts.

outdoors, the world has quieted. an expectant hush settles over rows of guests turned toward the archway far ahead, driftwood-laced and wrapped in ivory silk. minho waits beneath it, flanked by palm fronds and promise, his tuxedo crisp against the soft blue of the sky. he looks equal parts nervous and proud, undone in that earnest, hopeful way that only people in love get to be.

and just behind the resort doors, the wedding party starts to gather.

yunho is standing between jimin and hyunjae, already tall but somehow straighter now, like his spine’s just remembered what it means to be a groomsman. 

you spot hyunjin, and the breath leaves your lungs– he looks so painfully handsome from where he stands beside felix. he tugs lightly at the front of his jacket, adjusting the pocket square that’s been folded with embarrassing precision; his long hair is swept back out of his face, and his tie is the exact same shade of rosebud pink as your dress, just as the bridal planner intended. like fate itself had a theme.

then he sees you.

and he forgets what air is.

you’re framed in the open doorway, sunlit and stunning, the soft blush of your dress catching in the breeze as you step out, heels clicking softly on the stone. your bouquet is tight in your hands. your hair is in an intricate updo with soft tendrils curling around your face, small rosebuds adorning a braid that wraps around the crown of your head; you’ve always been gorgeous, but in this light, hyunjin swears you look like a princess.

your gaze finds his almost instantly– drawn like a tide– and the second your eyes meet, everything else fades.

there’s no smug grin on his face this time. no clever comment. no walls built high to hide behind.

just awe.

undisguised. unguarded. like you’re unraveling him completely.

you walk toward him like you’ve done it a hundred times in a hundred dreams; like your feet were made to take this exact path to him. and when you finally stop in front of him, donning an unsure smile with your hands shaking just slightly, you lift one to smooth the flower pinned to his lapel.

you don’t speak at first. neither does he.

your fingers are delicate, deliberate, pressing the corsage more snugly into place. he swallows visibly. the gentle action is a gut-punch when you’re in front of him looking this radiant.

“you look…” his voice is quiet. reverent. like it hurts to say it out loud. “…beyond beautiful.”

you look up at him then.

really look.

and for once, you don’t tease. you don’t deflect. you don’t dodge behind a quip or a roll of your eyes.

you just smile: gentle, glowing, vulnerable in a way that stops his heart as you accept the compliment.

“so do you,” you murmur, voice barely above the wind. “this color… it suits you.”

his breath catches. “i think it suits us both.”

and for one fragile second, the world stops spinning– just long enough for you to believe in something tender that blooms where bitterness once stood. just long enough for him to hope you really mean it.

the others are still around you: wendy laughing at something jihyo says, sana greeting hyunjae with a gentle kiss, felix wiping a palm on his pant leg like he’s nervous– but none of them matter right now.

not when he’s looking at you like this.

not when your fingers are still resting against his chest, and he hasn’t dared to move. you feel the way he fights for breath, mirroring the way your lungs stutter at the awe in his eyes.

“alright, lovebirds,” yunho mutters, nudging hyunjin with an elbow as he breezes past to find his place in line. “save it for the reception.”

someone– yeji, maybe– lets out a low whistle behind you. jihyo fake gasps. sana fans herself with her bouquet.

you hear it all like it’s underwater, like the air between you and hyunjin is too charged to let in any sound that doesn’t belong to him.

he doesn’t look away. he can’t.

not when he shifts a little closer. not when he lowers his arm, slowly, deliberately, and offers it to you with quiet steadiness. his eyes never leave yours.

you hesitate for a fraction of a second, just long enough to remember how to breathe, and then you’re sliding your hand into the bend of his elbow like it belongs there, holding tight.

his other hand comes up to settle over yours, careful and warm.

you think you might swoon.

he’s wearing that cologne again, the one with citrus and something oceanic and impossible to name. his tux fits like it was made for him– navy and tailored and unfair. making you feel things you’re scared to name.

he must feel your fingers tremble, because his thumb brushes yours. just once. then again, slower; like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand with his. like he can’t believe it’s your hand hooked onto his arm.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he murmurs, so low only you can hear it.

your breath catches.

his voice is soft, dazed. like he’s still trying to understand how you’re real.

and for once– just this once– you don’t deflect. you don’t reach for an eye-roll or a jab. you just look up at him and let it show, whatever these new feelings are; letting him see the way he’s undoing you. the way he’s stealing every breath from your lungs with nothing but his presence.

the music swells through the venue– your cue.

he leans in, barely an inch, and murmurs, “ready?” you nod, lips parted, heart stuck somewhere in your throat.

and then you walk.

step by step. joined, locked together like you were meant to be at each other’s side. his arm secure beneath your hand, his presence a gravity pulling you forward. every guest is turned toward you. every phone camera is rolling. every smile is wide and expectant.

and still, it feels like no one else exists.

just you. just him.

at the end of the aisle, you split on cue– he walks to the right, you to the left– but even then, the thread doesn’t snap. you feel it stretch between you, taut and humming, a moment unbroken as you take your places on either side of the altar.

he turns to look at you. you’re already looking at him.

you don’t smile this time. neither does he. it’s something quieter, something deeper, something that sits low in your ribs and aches with how long it’s been waiting to be let out.

the rest of the bridal party proceeds out, taking their places. and then—

the music shifts. everyone rises.

and there she is.

minji steps into the aisle on her father’s arm, radiant and trembling and glowing like something sent down from the heavens, veil trailing behind her like a whisper.

you inhale sharply. the thread tying you to hyunjin doesn’t vanish; it just softens, gently folded into the edges of something even bigger.

your best friend is getting married.

and for the first time since you stepped into your heels this morning, you stop thinking about how hard your heart is pounding and start thinking about how full it is.

you glance over to find that minho is already crying.

not loud or messy or anything dramatic, just… two or three quiet tears, sliding down his cheeks unchecked, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watches minji approach. his gaze is awed, shining with fierce love.

you look across the altar at him, and something about the way his fingers twitch at his sides– like he’s resisting the urge to run down the aisle and meet her halfway– makes your throat go tight.

minji’s train flutters gently in the breeze, her dress rippling like seafoam over sand, and you’re struck suddenly by how beautiful she looks. not just the hair and the makeup and the gown, though all of it is perfect. but the way she radiates like joy is pouring out of her, too big to be contained.

her arm is looped through her father’s, and his face is glowing too, proud and glassy-eyed and trying not to sniffle as they walk. you see her give his hand a small squeeze halfway down the aisle, and when they reach the end, he leans in and kisses her cheek.

“go get him, sweetheart,” he whispers loud enough for you to hear, voice thick.

and then he’s letting go with a proud smile, stepping back, and minji steps forward into minho’s waiting hands.

the officiant invites the guests to sit. the music fades. the world stills.

and the ceremony begins.

you keep your posture steady, your smile gentle, bouquet held just right– but your gaze flicks to the left again. to the best man in the navy tux.

hyunjin.

he’s not looking at the couple. not right away.

he’s looking at you.

his eyes are soft. unguarded. the breeze lifts a strand of hair off his forehead, and still he doesn’t blink. doesn’t move. just studies you like there’s nothing more important in the world. you don’t have the strength to look away; you’re cracking open before him, and he drinks the sight up with awe.

the officiant is talking, something about love and seasons and building a life in partnership. minji and minho are holding hands now, foreheads nearly touching. and you should be focused– this is your best friend’s wedding, after all– but all you can think about is how it felt when hyunjin touched your hand back at the doorway. how he held your arm like it mattered when you walked down the aisle together. how he said ‘you’re gonna kill me’ like it cost him something to mean it that much.

you blink hard. pull yourself back before you wander past a point of no return.

minji is laughing at something now, some joke the officiant made about their early dates. minho’s eyes are crinkled, his hand still wrapped around hers. the vows are next.

they exchange promises of love, of a future, of a life they can’t wait to make together; and you’re crying before you notice it.

not sobbing. just a quiet tear tracing its way down your cheek, slow and emotional. you start to reach up to wipe it, but across the altar, hyunjin catches your eye.

he tilts his head, a soft frown on his face. then, subtly, deliberately, he mouths, you gonna make it?

you stifle a giggle, shoulders shaking with the effort. you lift your brows and mouth back, barely.

his smile blooms so quick and genuine it almost knocks the breath from your chest.

then the officiant’s voice rises, the tone shifting with finality. a future sealed.

“i now pronounce you husband and wife. minho, you may kiss the bride.”

you turn just in time to see minji and minho beam at each other. they hesitate for a split second, both of them laughing, barely holding it together– and then minho cups her jaw and kisses her like they’re the only two people in the world.

the crowd erupts. clapping, cheering, some whooping from the back row.

and then– of course– minho, showman that he is, scoops her right up off her feet.

gasps and laughter ripple through the guests as he lifts her bridal-style and starts carrying her down the aisle toward the reception hall, minji squealing in delight and burying her face in his neck.

your heart feels too big for your chest.

the bridal party starts to stir, moving into position for the recessional just like you practiced at rehearsal. you and hyunjin step forward at the same time, meeting at the center of the altar as the music swells again– but for the first time all weekend, there’s no plan for what to do with your hands.

he notices your still-damp cheek before anything else.

his palm lifts slowly, sweetly, and he wipes the last tear away with the gentlest brush of his thumb. then, like it costs nothing and means everything, he laces his fingers through yours.

not for show. not for the photos. just because he wants to.

your chest flips and your heart tugs wildly, trying to break free. your other hand tightens on the bouquet, but your gaze never leaves his face. 

and as you step off together, moving down the aisle in perfect tandem with the sun shining warm on your backs, the sound of applause all around, you feel like you’re walking into something you won’t be able to walk back from.

–

the reception is still an hour off, but already, the wedding coordinator is waving the bridal party toward the shore with a clipboard and a frazzled expression.

“sunlight’s perfect, people! let’s move!”

and just like that, the ceremony breaks like a wave on the sand. minji and minho briefly vanish into a tangle of hugging family members. the guests start peeling off toward the cocktail hour. the photographer yells for the bridal party to line up near the shoreline. and hyunjin—of course—is already almost there.

you’re halfway through adjusting your heel strap when he circles back to you.

“you always this slow?” he asks, but it’s not biting. not sharp. it’s lazy and warm, spoken through a barely-contained smile.

“you always this impatient?” you shoot back, rising to your feet.

his eyes skim from your shoes up to your face, lingering a little longer than they should. “when you look like that? yeah. i’m gonna need you to pick up the pace before i embarrass myself.”

you blink. he’s already turned toward the water again, but he’s slowed enough to wait for you.

you follow him, dazed, the warmth of his voice still curling somewhere beneath your ribs.

and the photo session you walk into is barely contained chaos. 

the photographer directs like he’s in the military: “groomsmen! lift the groom!” “bridesmaids, bouquet circle on three!” “no, not like that– do it sexy!”

you’re laughing so hard at one point you nearly drop your flowers. minji’s wiping tears from her eyes between poses. yunho and hyunjae start a spontaneous conga line that the photographer does not approve of, and wendy keeps whispering deadpan one-liners until minho threatens to banish her to the guest section.

it’s loud. giddy. messy and joyful in the best way.

but even still… beneath the noise, beneath the movement, something is humming quietly. something that lives in glances and soft touches and the half-second pause before a smile.

hyunjin catches your gaze after one of the wide shots, head tilted, breathless from laughing.

“you’re cute when you laugh,” he says. not even trying to be sly about it. 

“careful,” you reply, tucking hair behind your ear. “keep that up and people might think you like me.”

his eyes flicker. “yeah, wouldn’t that be wild.”

you don’t look away. neither does he.

“okay, just the best man and maid of honor next!” the photographer calls, waving you forward. “this one’s going in the photo album, so make it count.”

you turn automatically– then hesitate.

hyunjin’s already there, one hand extended, like he knew you’d pause. like he wanted to be the one waiting this time.

“dance with me,” he says, completely serious, hand still outstretched.

“this isn’t a dance,” you murmur, stepping into his space anyway.

he shrugs. “then we’ll just have to pretend it is.”

his hand finds your waist. not tentative, not hesitant, just there; like he’s wanted to touch you all day and finally has an excuse. you don’t shy away. your fingertips drift to his shoulders, then his chest. you feel the shape of his breath under your hand. his heartbeat. steady, but maybe a little fast. maybe a little bit like yours.

you glance up at him, expectant. “so, what– do i follow your lead, or…?”

his mouth quirks. “you always follow my lead. you just like pretending you don’t.”

“mhm.” your fingers flex slightly on the lapel of his suit, adjusting his pocket again. “sounds an awful lot like projection.”

“sounds like you’re stalling.” he says through a soft grin.

you meet his eyes, smile curling gently. “sounds like you’re stalling harder.”

he steps in a little closer, tilts his head just enough to match your gaze– brown eyes warm and blown wide. the sea breeze is tugging at your hair. the light’s hitting him like a movie frame. you’re in each other’s space, and for once, you’re glad to be there. your smile never fades.

the photographer calls, “close the space a bit– there, perfect. hands relaxed. look at each other.”

you do.

it should be awkward. should be uncomfortable. but it’s not.

hyunjin looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and remembering every version of you all at once: frustrated and flushed, laughing and tipsy, snarky and unbothered, soft and startled with tears drying on your cheek.

and you—

you can’t believe he’s real.

you swear the ground tilts beneath your feet. another click of the camera. the shutter feels intrusive. you don’t look away.

“okay,” the photographer says, trying to sound casual, “now just… tilt your heads closer together. real gentle. soft smile or no smile, totally up to you.”

“you heard the guy,” hyunjin says, voice quieter now, teasing but tender. “bring it in, maid of honor.”

you roll your eyes, but your chest’s gone hot, heart full. “only if you say cheese, worst best man.”

his hands settle just above your waist as you lean in. your forehead brushes his. your nose nearly does, too. you’re close enough to feel the whisper of his exhale.

“you look illegally good in that dress. the resort might arrest you,” he jokes, but the softness of it lands like it’s a confession.

“and you smell like way too much cologne,” you whisper back, “but somehow it’s working for you.”

“i didn’t think you’d notice.” he admits.

“i notice everything about you.” it’s barely more than a breath.

you don’t mean to say it, not quite like that. but it’s already out. it lands somewhere between you, soft-edged and shimmering with quiet question.

hyunjin’s eyes search yours like they’re asking: are you sure?

and yours say back: tell me it’s okay to be.

you stay there even after the camera clicks again. neither of you move.

not until the photographer exhales loudly and mutters, “okay, yeah. you two are ridiculous. go cool off before you start making out in front of the grandparents.”

you step back, dazed. fingers slipping from where they’d curled into his jacket.

he doesn’t look away.

neither of you have time to breathe before you’re being pulled in opposite directions by squealing bridesmaids and meddlesome groomsmen.

but you smile at each other through the chaos, letting the crowd pull you to the reception.

–

hyunjin doesn’t leave your side for the entire cocktail hour. doesn’t even try to.

the room where pre-reception drinks are being held  glows with ambient lighting and sun from the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the ocean sprawls beyond. elegant tables are dressed in crisp white linen and scattered pink petals. champagne flows like water. someone’s already playing soft acoustic guitar near the bar. 

the whole place looks like a wedding magazine centerfold—but none of it matters when hyunjin’s standing this close.

his hand rests lightly at your lower back like it’s second nature. not possessive. not performative. just… anchored. like he’s trying to be good, trying to keep from curling his arm fully around your waist and pulling you in, chest to chest, until the entire crowd melts away.

you find yourself leaning into the grounding touch without thinking. 

guests greet you both in passing—some who mistook you for a couple already, others who are starting to wonder now. you play along easily, laugh at all their jokes, compliment dresses, crack a wide smile when a flower girl runs by with sticky fingers and a stolen cupcake. you’re gracious and warm and friendly, and you remember everyone’s name.

and hyunjin?

he watches you through it all with his drink half-raised, lips quirking, expression softening every time you laugh. like you’re some miracle he didn’t know he needed to believe in.

“so, how long have you two been together?” someone asks with a knowing grin.

“technically, we’ve been at odds since the welcome dinner,” you say.

hyunjin cuts in good-naturedly. “she thought she couldn’t stand me, but i proved her wrong with my incredible charm and good looks.”

you laugh—real and bright, unguarded—and god, if he wasn’t already gone, that’s the moment he falls completely.

you’re still giggling when hyunjin threads through the crowd with you after escaping an overzealous cousin, his hand never leaving your back. when you reach the bar, you both lean in at the same time to grab glasses of deep red wine— shoulders brushing, hands overlapping, his touch trailing lightly as he passes you a glass.

you don’t flinch when his fingers brush yours.

the crowd is big, but for a moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you, shoulder to shoulder, leaning against the cool marble edge of the bar. behind you, guests laugh and clink glasses, a toddler runs shrieking with joy, and someone’s uncle burps irreverently.

but in your bubble, it’s just this. you and him. smiling like you’ve won the lottery.

hyunjin raises his glass.“to surviving group photos.”

“to resisting the urge to kiss me in some of them,” you volley back, having too much fun to think about the words before they fly out of your mouth.

he’s stunned silent for half a breath.

you squint. “i’m joking, hyun.”

and then he smiles—slow and real and wide—and taps his glass to yours, breathing a disbelieving laugh.

he chuckles, low and quiet, and you feel it somewhere between your ribs. “you’re flirting back,” he says, almost sounding impressed.

you sigh like he’s annoying you. “you started it.”

“and i’ll finish it.”

your smile catches.

“when?” you ask, suddenly breathless.

he drains his glass of wine in one go.

”you’ll know.”

—

the reception is by far the most beautiful part of the night.

the beachside terrace is littered with tables, delicate centerpieces glowing in the brilliant sunset painting the sky. guests are grouped at tables and chattering away merrily, and you’re watching it all unfold from the long bridal party table with your back to the sand dunes.

and of course, you’re seated next to hyunjin.

he’s eyeing his cocktail– some fruit and white rum mixture– like it’s going to jump out and snap at him.

“if you stare at it any longer, it’s gonna start charging rent.”

he glances over, unimpressed. “it has a lychee eyeball floating in it.”

you snort lightly. “so you’re afraid of a little garnish?”

“i’m not afraid,” he says, leaning back in his seat with the dramatic posture of a man defending his honor. “i just think drinks shouldn’t have pupils.”

you reach for it and take a sip without asking, then make an exaggeratedly thoughtful face. “hmm… tastes like cowardice.”

he huffs a laugh. “give it back, you bully.”

you give him a sticky sweet smile. “make me.”

he doesn’t. just smirks like you’re already caught and leans in, forearms against the table.

“you’re different tonight.”

you blink. “what do you mean?”

“you’re…” his gaze flicks to your mouth for half a second, then back up. “happier.”

you don’t know what to say to that; so you take another sip of his drink and pretend not to notice the way he’s still looking at you.

around you, the table is alive— yeji and wendy squabbling over who gets the last roll in the bread basket, jimin doing some elaborate hand-talking routine that ends in yunho slow-blinking like he’s considering murder. someone from another table tosses a piece of candy at felix; he catches it without looking, grinning wide. hyunjae tells sana a story so funny that he wheezes through the punchline.

and hyunjin’s leg brushes yours.

it’s subtle, maybe even accidental. except… it lingers.

so you nudge him. gentle, a little teasing kick at the side of his foot.

he looks over, lips tugged into a crooked smile. you nudge him again, bolder.

he presses his knee into yours like a challenge.

you stifle a giggle behind your napkin. “are we really playing footsie at our best friend’s wedding?”

he lifts a brow, all faux innocence. “you started it.”

you glance pointedly down at his leg. “and you’re shamelessly continuing it.”

“obviously,” he says, unbothered.

the plates arrive mid-laugh: seafood, grilled vegetables, fragrant rice. hyunjin scoots his chair in a little closer, just enough that your knees stay touching, and reaches for his fork like this is all normal. like this is just… how it is now. like the dam didn’t burst somewhere in the ceremony.

conversation flows easily between you and him; between everyone at the table, too. you laugh until your ribs ache at something yunho says, and hyunjin tops off your water glass without thinking twice. you pluck a piece of shrimp off his plate and he lets you– no protest, just a quiet grin into his own drink like he’s never seen anything more endearing in his life.

then he leans in a bit, voice low. “okay, don’t look now, but the guy three tables back is absolutely trying to hypnotize the wine in his glass.”

you turn instantly.

“i said don’t look,” hyunjin mutters, grinning.

you spot the guy. middle-aged, heavy tan lines, swaying slightly in his seat as he twirls his wine glass in the light like he’s searching for its soul.

you clap a hand over your mouth. “oh my god.”

hyunjin nods solemnly. “he’s been talking to it for the last five minutes.”

“what do you think he’s saying?”

hyunjin leans in and adopts a deep, serious tone. “‘show me who i really am, chardonnay.’”

you wheeze, choking a little on your sip of water. “oh my god, you’re ridiculous.”

he nudges your side with his elbow. “you’re giggling.”

you roll your eyes despite your smile. “you’re lucky i am.”

“am i?”

you glance at him, drawn by the sincerity in the question.

he’s already looking at you.

you don’t look away. your foot bumps his again beneath the table.

and then—

there’s the soft clink of a spoon against glass, and minho stands with minji’s hand in his.

the terrace quiets instantly, a tide of hush rolling over the space. minji’s dress shimmers under the fairy lights strung through the palms. minho is smiling so hard he looks like his face might split in half. they move together toward the cake table, hands laced, breath caught in the sweetness of the moment.

“you ever seen those two look like that?” hyunjin murmurs beside you.

you glance over. he’s watching them too, but with a softness you rarely see on him, gaze open and fond.

“not even close,” you say quietly.

the music swells, and the crowd claps as minji and minho cut the first slice together—laughing as the frosting sticks to minho’s finger and minji kisses it off without blinking.

you smile softly.

hyunjin leans toward you just a bit more. he opens his mouth to say something else, but sana taps his arm from the other side of his chair, eyes bright. “it’s speech time! are you guys ready?”

you both straighten at once.

hyunjin mutters, “define ready,” but he’s already pushing back his chair, grabbing his champagne glass with the same confidence he walks into every room with.

minho and minji have returned to their seats at the center of the bridal table, hands laced tightly, leaning into each other like they forgot there’s anyone else around. the guests begin to settle, hushed and expectant. golden light from soft torches around the venue pools like honey across the table linens.

hyunjin rises first.

he clears his throat, raises his glass, and gives the crowd a roguish half-smile. “hey everyone, i’m hyunjin— minho’s best man, minji’s unpaid therapist, and briefly, a human tape dispenser when we were wrapping party favors last night.”

a wave of chuckles rolls through the terrace. minho groans and drops his face into his hands. minji beams like she’s already close to crying.

“there’s a lot i could say about these two,” hyunjin goes on, tone softening. “they’re annoyingly perfect for each other. they finish each other’s sentences, followed each other to college, and once had a full conversation using only inside jokes from their favorite tv show.”

more laughter. more knowing nods.

“but the truth is,” he says, glancing toward them, “watching them find each other made a lot of us believe in love again.”

your breath catches. his gaze flicks to you–  just for a second. but the weight settles all the same.

“and if i cry,” he adds suddenly, turning back to the crowd, “i’d like for everyone to pretend it’s just the salt air getting in my eyes. i didn’t sign up for vulnerability and humidity.”

even minho laughs at that one.

hyunjin shares some of his best memories with the groom, and you know he carefully selected the embarrassing stories to preserve at least some of his best friend’s shame. the crowd is rolling in laughter by the time he wraps it up, minho’s neck flushed bright red.

“to minho and minji,” he says at last, lifting his glass high. “may your life be full of the love and happiness you put into the world.”

glasses clink all around. hyunjin bows a little, grinning, and sits back down beside you.

“not bad, huh?” he mutters.

you nudge him with your knee again. “i didn’t hate it.”

“you loved it.” he teases with a smirk.

you sigh. “you’re insufferable.”

“and you’re glowing.” he says like it’s nothing.

you’re pretty sure you stop breathing.

but before you can think too hard about what that means, everyone’s looking at you now. felix pats your arm with a wink. jihyo whispers, “you got this,” as you rise to your feet.

your glass trembles just slightly in your hand.

“hi all,” you say, clearing your throat. “i’m the maid of honor, y/n. or as i’ve been called all week, ‘the wedding fairy,’ since i’ve been sneaking around doing last-minute tasks with a spreadsheet and a glue gun even when minji ordered me to relax.”

laughter rings out, and you get a knowing smile from minji.

“minji’s been one of my best friends for years. she’s the person i text when i’m crying in the target parking lot. she’s the reason i made it through graduating high school. and she’s the only person i’d forgive for making me wear heels on the beach.”

minji laughs, wiping under her eyes already.

you go on, speaking through the flutter in your chest. you talk about her loyalty, her ferocity, her softness. how minho brings out the best parts of her, not by completing her, but by standing beside her while she shines. you tease minho a little too– mention his karaoke habits, his control-freak itinerary– and then fall quiet for a moment.

“i’ve seen a lot of versions of love,” you say softly. “but theirs is the kind that makes you believe in more. more patience, more kindness, more choosing each other every day.”

your voice wobbles. you don’t look at hyunjin; you don’t need to. you already feel him watching you.

“to minji and minho,” you finish, voice thick with tears that threaten to fall. “may you never stop finding new reasons to fall in love.”

the crowd erupts.

you return to your seat as minji blows you a kiss through her happy tears, as minho pretends he’s not blinking a little faster. the clinking of glasses and hushed laughter swirls around you, but hyunjin says nothing.

until you glance over.

he lifts his untouched glass between you and him, face fond. “to maids of honor,” he says quietly, “who make speeches sound like a poetry reading and make me wish i were someone worth writing about.”

you blink, stunned.

but he just clinks his glass gently against yours, drinks, and smiles.

like it’s nothing.

like it’s everything.

–

cake is served in delicate slices. there’s too many flavors to choose from; vanilla bean with passionfruit curd, lemon icing over almond pound cake, strawberry shortcake with a cream cheese swirl. servers flit between tables with plated elegance. you and hyunjin, of course, grabbed different ones.

he forks a bite of his into his mouth– dark chocolate raspberry with some elaborate drizzle on top– and raises a brow. “holy shit. this cake is life-changing.”

you laugh, taking a bite of your lemon almond slice, then narrow your eyes at him. “hmm, i think mine’s better.”

he smirks. “bold claim. let’s find out.”

he lifts his fork, offering you a bite of his, and the moment is casual. or at least it pretends to be.

but then you’re leaning in, lips wrapping around his fork, tasting sweetness and dark chocolate and his gaze all blending together on your tongue.

you pull back. “...okay, that’s seriously good.”

“told you.” his grin turns triumphant.

you scoop a piece of yours, holding your fork out. “still think mine’s better though. here, try it.”

hyunjin doesn’t hesitate. he leans in, lips closing around the fork just the way you did moments ago. his eyes hold yours as he eats the bite you offered him.

you try to pretend your heart isn’t doing somersaults with the knowledge that his mouth is on your fork.

“...yours wins,” he says at long last.

you beam at him, taking your fork back. “damn right.”

he chuckles softly. “wow, what a a gracious winner.”

before you can answer– before you can breathe– the music shifts again.

the dj announces, “let’s welcome our newlyweds for their first dance!”

you turn toward the dance floor just in time to see minji and minho rise from the center of the table, hands clasped, faces radiant. the crowd erupts in cheers, but it’s as if the whole world softens the moment they step into each other’s arms.

the song begins: something low and sweeping, old and romantic. strings and hushed harmonies. the kind of melody that folds around the ribs and doesn’t let go; a song you’ve known minji wanted to dance to tonight since before she ever even met minho.

they sway close, foreheads pressed, mouths moving like they’re still whispering secrets even in front of everyone. it’s breathtaking. it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen, and your best friend is shining like a beacon in the beautiful night.

your throat tightens. your eyes well up against your will.

hyunjin notices. “oh no,” he teases under his breath, “are you a chronic wedding crier?”

you swat at him without looking. “shut up.”

but before you can retreat fully into your wine glass, his hand catches yours. not a teasing grab this time. not a dare. 

just a simple intertwining of fingers beneath the table, his palm warm against yours.

you glance over. he’s still watching the dance. but his thumb strokes gently across the back of your hand.

you squeeze his hand tight. he squeezes back instantly.

they finish their first dance in a whirlwind of applause and laughter, minji twirling dramatically into minho’s arms. the dj cuts in with a new track– something loud, upbeat, glittering– and minji calls out, “alright, bridal party! let’s go!”

you’re pulled onto the dance floor with the others—felix already spinning jihyo, hyunjae clapping on the off-beat just to make sana yell, wendy trying not to look like she’s having fun and failing. minji and minho are in the center, surrounded by the people who love them most, everyone jumping and laughing, hands in the air.

you laugh too: fully, brightly. your smile lights up the terrace like the sun’s come back out from where it went to bed behind the mountains.

hyunjin watches you like he’s memorizing it. like he never wants to forget the way you look right now, happy, bursting with joy.

your dress catches the breeze as you spin in place, clapping along. he joins in, barely dancing– just keeping close, echoing your movements, like you’re the center of whatever orbit he’s found himself caught in.

the wild beat comes to a close, and suddenly, the music turns soft. something gentler takes its place.

the crowd slows. the lights dim. a tune more mellow and golden hums through the speakers, the opening chords of a soft acoustic ballad. couples begin to pair off.

minji is tucked back into minho’s chest; felix extends a hand toward jihyo. hyunjae is dramatically trying to lead sana into a waltz.

and hyunjin?

hyunjin is already turning to you.

eyes searching, guard gone. sporting a softness you’ve never seen before, like something rare, emerging just for you.

the world fades a little. the night hushes.

he leans forward, not smiling; he’s glowing.

“may i have this dance?”

you don’t even say anything. you just nod.

and hyunjin’s smile– god, it’s devastating. not smug, not teasing. just… pure. like he’s grateful. like you’ve made his entire night just by saying yes.

he steps forward and offers his hand, palm up. a silent question.

you answer it without thinking: you place your hand in his, and he tugs you gently into the open space between the gathered couples.

the music hums low and lilting beneath the stars, some romantic ballad you barely recognize because your ears are too full of your pulse and your head is too full of him.

he doesn’t take the usual dancing posture.

doesn’t hold your hand out, doesn’t place the other politely on your waist.

instead, he wraps both arms loosely around your middle, pulling you in until there’s barely an inch of space between you. your hands find his shoulders automatically, sliding upward until they loop behind his neck.

his nose brushes yours. it’s the smallest touch, the gentlest motion; but it knocks any walls that were still standing down, decimates anything in the way of being something other than what you want to be with him: real.

you are standing in a crowd of people, on the most beautiful night of someone else's life, and yet somehow.. it’s quiet.

just him. just you.

you smile, small and warm, saying something to keep yourself grounded in reality between his arms. “this is cozy.”

his mouth curls. “what, this? don’t tell me you’re worried about scandalizing the grandparents. i guarantee you, their glasses aren’t strong enough to spot us on the dance floor.”

you choke on a laugh, shoulders shaking slightly against his chest. “god, you’re so dumb.”

“i prefer the term charming. and tall.”

you giggle against his jaw. “debatable.”

he laughs again– really laughs– and it vibrates through your hands still looped at the back of his neck. but then his gaze catches yours and softens.

his voice lowers.

“y’know…” he says, turning you both slightly in rhythm with the slow sway of the music, “i never hated you, y/n.”

the words settle over your skin like warmth.

you blink. “...what?”

he shrugs a little like he didn’t just drop the softest bomb known to mankind, nose brushing your cheek this time. “when we were fighting all the time. i didn’t really hate you. never wanted to.”

you take a breath. it’s not quite steady. “i didn’t hate you either, hyun.”

he chuckles, the sound void of malice. “sure. definitely believe that.”

“i didn’t!” you laugh, nudging his shoulder with mock offense. “i was just—”

“mean to me on purpose?” he finishes for you.

you huff through a smile. “you started it!”

he hums. “i was flirting.”

“you were insufferable.”

a handsome grin overtakes his face as he says, “and yet here you are, dancing with me under the stars.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “only because minji made me.”

his brow arches.

you bite back a grin. “fine, fine. maybe it’s because i want to dance with you.”

his expression softens instantly.

you’re not sure he’s even breathing anymore.

“…yeah?” he says, voice quiet.

“yeah.”

you hold his gaze as the music lulls. the lights twinkle golden around the terrace. laughter swells somewhere behind you, but it’s muffled; just atmosphere.

you feel his hand at your lower back shift slightly, sliding upward just a fraction.

and then he twirls you.

you move into it without warning: one spin, graceful and easy, and you let out a delighted laugh, dizzy with motion and the giddiness of it all. your dress flares around your legs. your hair fans your cheek. you smile like hyunjin hung the stars in the sky.

you land back in his arms, glowing with the kind of joy that dances in your eyes.

but something's different now. you don’t just fall back into the same slow sway. this time, your fingers– on instinct, or maybe something braver– slide upward into his hair, twining lightly in the strands at the nape of his neck.

he exhales like your touch unravels him.

his arms wrap tighter around your waist in answer, no pretense left, no nerves to be found. he pulls you close enough that your chest presses against his, and you settle into him fully now– hips aligned, heads bowed, hearts matching pace.

this isn’t just dancing anymore. this is something more, something softer. something just for the two of you.

he rests his forehead to yours. neither of you speak; you just breathe, slow and steady.

your lashes flutter closed. you feel his breath on your lips– the closeness is magnetic, maddening. the moment pulses, charged and suspended, hanging in the air between you that’s been waiting to break all this time.

his hands are gentle at your back. yours are firm at his neck. his touch is soft, but it erases every fight you thought you’d had with him; every glare, every jab. it all melts away under the fairy lights to reveal what’s been hiding all along.

you don’t know who moves first; but when your eyes open, you find his already waiting.

searching. impossibly soft.

then—

his eyes flicker down to your lips.

they stay locked on your mouth like they’ve found their home there.

and you– ever the smartass, even when your heart is beating out of your chest– manage to murmur, “my eyes are up here, casanova.”

but he doesn’t smirk. doesn’t tease. doesn’t say anything.

instead, his gaze flickers up to yours slow and intentional, and then softens in a way that knocks the wind from your lungs.

he looks like he’s memorizing you. like whatever comes next will alter you both beyond compare.

then– gently, reverently– he reaches up.

his fingers brush along your temple, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. the touch is barely there, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he’s not careful. but once he’s done, he doesn’t pull back. his palm stays cupped at your jaw.

you don’t breathe. you can’t.

he says your name, quiet and fragile.

your lashes flutter. you lean into his touch without thinking, cheek settling against his hand like it belongs there.

when you meet his gaze again, it’s like standing at the edge of something endless. something yawns open, stretches to life before you. 

and you welcome it without a fight.

“hyunjin…” you whisper, but there’s no follow-up. your voice cracks on the sound of his name.

he leans in, nose brushing yours, breath tickling your skin, and he murmurs against your lips; not kissing you, not yet, just there—

“you undo me.”

your heart takes flight between your ribs.

you inhale, shaky and sure, and you don’t even have time to process what’s happening before his lips finally, finally meet yours.

it’s not hungry; it’s not wild.

it’s tender. slow. gentle.

like he’s savoring the feel of you. like this kiss isn’t a climax—it’s a beginning.

his thumb brushes along your cheekbone as he deepens it slightly, and your fingers curl tighter in the hair at the nape of his neck. your other hand is caught between you, pressed to his chest, right over his heart. it’s pounding. racing. 

he’s kissing away every word of hatred, every insult you’ve flung at one another, every squabble and swear. his lips part on yours and make you forget every time you couldn’t stand to be near him— now, you can’t fathom that feeling. not anymore.

he’s kissing you like he means it. like he’s waited for it. like he never wants to stop.

and you? you feel like you’re made of sheer starlight.

when you finally pull apart, it’s not because you want to. it’s only because your lungs are begging you to.

you blink up at him, breathless and dazed, smiling.

he’s smiling back. he gazes at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen; it mirrors the way minho’s been looking at minji all day. it mirrors the look your dad gives your mom. it’s a silent thanks, an unspoken promise, a certainty: you’re my person.

your eyes are soft. cheeks flushed. his thumb is still stroking along your jaw like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

you open your mouth to say something– maybe a joke, maybe a confession, maybe his name– but a sudden flash of light makes both of you jump.

you whip your head to the side just in time to see minji next to the photographer, face glowing and lined in happy tears.

“you bastards,” she sniffles with a radiant smile, already wiping her cheeks.

minho is standing just behind her, one hand around his bride and the other casually outstretched toward felix, who groans and slaps a twenty-dollar bill into it without protest.

“called it,” minho says smugly.

felix mutters, “unbelievable.”

you and hyunjin both start laughing like maniacs.

you’re still nose to nose, still cradled in each other’s arms under the stars, but now you’re laughing. wildly, messily, real.

and you’re not sure you’ll ever stop smiling.

“well,” hyunjin murmurs, eyes dancing. “guess we’re in trouble now.”

you grin, all teeth. “speak for yourself. i think felix is the only one mourning his twenty.”

“felix will survive,” hyunjin says with mock solemnity. “but will we survive jihyo’s commentary?”

and as if on cue, a familiar voice calls from somewhere past the speakers: “you two done yet? or should we give you a tent?”

you whip around to see jihyo approaching with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, jimin at her side holding a tray of drinks, and yeji and wendy trailing close behind. their faces are flushed with sun and champagne and the unmistakable glee of well-timed teasing.

“you would not believe the commentary happening at the tables,” yeji tells you, grinning ear to ear as she grabs a pink cocktail from the tray. “i had to physically stop your cousin from livestreaming on tiktok.”

felix snorts, holding out a drink to you. “you’re lucky i didn’t film the kiss. i had a front-row seat and everything.”

“oh, shut up,” you say as you turn beet red, but you’re giggling as you take the drink. “you wouldn’t know romance if it kissed you on the mouth.”

“i know it when it kisses you on the mouth like that,” he says, nodding at hyunjin– who’s now got a hand curled possessively around your waist like it belongs there. like he belongs there.

hyunjin just lifts his glass in a calm toast. “cheers to our meddlesome friend group.”

“cheers to you two idiots finally pulling your heads out of your asses,” wendy corrects, clinking glasses with him anyway.

you take a long sip of your drink– some mix of gin and grapefruit– and lean into hyunjin’s side like it’s second nature. you feel weightless. fizzy. safe and wanted with his arm around you, the world narrowed to you and him and your ridiculous friends.

“hey,” he murmurs, nudging your glass down with a grin. “mine’s better.”

you raise a brow. “says who?”

“says me.”

he takes another sip from his own– vodka and lime and something like cherry– then leans in, catching your chin between his fingers.

“open.” he instructs.

you blink, startled. “what—”

but he just tips his glass forward and lets you sip from the rim he just drank from, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

you go a little lightheaded. he has no reason to look this hot while giving you a taste of his cocktail.

“okay,” you manage after you drink it. “yeah, that’s really good.”

“told you,” he says, proud and smug and hopelessly boyish.

“you guys are gonna be insufferable now,” jimin announces, but there’s no heat behind it—just laughter.

“please, like you and yeji weren’t already doing this by day two,” yunho says, sipping from his drink like it’s a truth serum.

yeji smirks. “day one, actually.”

“god,” you groan, hiding your face in hyunjin’s shoulder. he laughs and presses a kiss to your hair.

it’s so natural; so easy. so impossibly right.

and you don’t even have time to linger in it, because a new song thunders to life from the speakers– fast and pulsing and impossible not to move to– and someone’s yelling “let’s go!” before the whole group is getting pulled toward the dance floor again.

you and hyunjin finish your drinks in a final clink of glasses with his fingers brushing yours, his smile lazy and lovely– and then you’re chasing after the others, hand in hand, tipsy and breathless and together.

the lights are spinning. the beat’s thumping. someone’s already up on someone else’s shoulders. minji is spinning in elated circles in the middle of the dance floor.

and through it all, hyunjin never lets go of your hand.

–

you don’t realize how much your feet hurt until the music stops.

the lights are up. the last of the wedding guests are trickling out with sparkler smoke in their hair and bare feet, their shoes dangling from their fingers. someone’s yelling about the afterparty. jihyo’s already trying to drag yeji into a photo booth. minji and minho are glowing like it’s the first night of the rest of their lives; because it is.

and hyunjin is still holding your hand.

even as you limp ever-so-slightly down the entryway of the resort in your heels. even as you try to mask the wince that comes with every step. even as you let out a quiet little “ow.”

he notices immediately.

“hey,” he says, voice soft but amused. “are you actually okay, or are you pretending to be okay like you always do?”

“i am okay,” you insist. “i’m just… dying from the ankles down. no big deal.”

he tilts his head, eyes glittering. one corner of his mouth lifting slow. “want me to carry you?”

you blink. “no! i’m fine—”

but you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bending down, arms slipping behind your knees and your back, and sweeping you straight off the floor like a hero from a romance novel.

“hyunjin!”

“you said your feet were killing you,” he shrugs, completely unbothered as you protest in his arms.

you’re laughing helplessly now, swatting weakly at his chest. “this is so unnecessary—”

”you’ll thank me later,” he cuts in easily.

he carries you through the lobby like it’s nothing. like you’re just air in his arms. the concierge raises a discreet eyebrow. the old couple by the fireplace smiles knowingly. someone wolf-whistles from across the way.

hyunjin grins like a devil the whole time.

and you—well, you eventually give up and loop your arms around his neck.

you rest your cheek against his shoulder and finally let yourself melt.

“...okay,” you murmur after a moment. “i am enjoying this a little.”

“a little?” he huffs. “i’m literally rescuing you. this is knight in shining armor behavior.”

“you’re not wearing armor.”

“no, but i am hot.”

you snort. “debatable.”

he loosens his arms slightly, just enough to jostle you and make you feel like you’re falling.

you squeal and cling tighter. he eats it up.

“fine, fine—you’re hot! knight in shining jawline, i get it!”

“thank you,” he says solemnly, just as the elevator dings.

he doesn’t put you down when you get inside. doesn’t put you down when the doors close. just keeps holding you close, arms sure and solid, like he’s never once considered letting go.

and you– shameless, happy, wine-warm and weightless you– kiss his jaw in thanks.

he looks down at you, eyes gone soft and golden. “you’re dangerously cute, sunshine.”

you both smile like lovesick, grinning idiots.

the elevator ride is over faster than you can blink. 

by the time you reach your floor and make it down the hall, you’re half-asleep and fully in your own personal bubble with hyunjin. he sets you down gently just outside the room, and you turn to unlock the door; but the moment it clicks open, you barely get two steps inside before—

his arms are around you again. pulling you back in. not rushed, not urgent, just… inevitable.

you turn to meet him with a grin already rising, but it’s swallowed whole by the kiss he presses to your lips– soft and sweet and full of the kind of affection that makes your knees want to give out all over again. he kisses your smile, kisses your joy like he wants to taste it for himself.

you stumble back together into the room, hands finding faces, lips finding laughter.

“so,” he murmurs against your mouth, “this is what happens when we stop pretending to hate each other.”

you hum, all smug. “you always hated me a little more than i hated you, though.”

he snorts. “liar.”

your mouth drops open. “am not!”

“you said you fantasized about throwing me in a fountain.” he reminds you, hand under your chin.

you shrug, still kissing the corner of his smile. “doesn’t mean i hated you.”

his mouth brushes your jaw. “oh?”

“i also thought about kissing you, so…” you trail off, mischief laced in your tone.

he stills. pulls back just enough to look you in the eye. “when did you think about kissing me?”

you blink innocently. “which time?”

his groan is so dramatic, it makes you laugh.

“you’re actually evil,” he accuses, leaning in again. “pure chaos.”

“mm, and you’re a menace with a hero complex. we make a great pair.” you giggle against his lips.

“we really do.”

he kisses you again.

it’s slower this time. deeper. your hands wind into his hair, gentle at first, then firmer, and he lets out a little sound that wrecks you completely. his hands tug you close by the waist, smile still melting into the kiss.

when he pulls away, you’re breathless.

he grins, just slightly. “you’re not putting those heels back on tomorrow, by the way.”

you raise a brow. “oh?”

“nope,” he says, hands tracing down your arms. “you’re gonna wear sneakers. or go barefoot. or i’ll carry you again; your choice.”

you nudge him backward further into the room, laughing. “you like carrying me way too much.”

“you fit in my arms,” he says simply.

like that’s the answer to everything.

and, well… maybe it is.

–

the zipper at your back starts to bite once your buzz wears off into exhaustion.

you wiggle, huff, try to reach it; but you can’t get it.

then you glance over your shoulder.

hyunjin’s still lingering by the door, shirt half unbuttoned, tie dangling loose around his neck like he forgot it was there. he’s flushed from champagne and dancing and kissing you stupid– he looks rumpled and radiant, like a very pretty storm that’s finally started to settle.

his phone’s in his hand; he’s probably answering chaos from the group chat.

so– barefoot, mischievous, tipsy on joy more than alcohol now– you grin and toss it out like it’s nothing.

“hey hyun, will you unzip me?”

his head snaps up.

“…what?”

you look back at him, blinking all wide-eyed innocence. “my dress. the zipper’s stuck.”

he stares. just stares like his brain has blue-screened.

“you—” he starts, then stops, mouth twitching with a mix of desire and amusement. “you can’t just say that with no warning.”

“why not?” you hum, turning slightly to show him your back. “it’s not like I asked you to solve the world’s hardest math problem. just unzip me.”

he mutters something under his breath before he pushes off the wall and crosses the room slowly.

you’re already turning around, gathering your hair and lifting it off your neck like this is just something enemies-who-finally-kissed do all the time. like it’s casual. like your heart isn’t pounding.

hyunjin doesn’t say a word.

his fingers brush the zipper at the top of your spine, and you hold your breath.

it starts to lower slowly, methodically. he works it down, revealing your skin inch by inch: the nape of your neck, the line of your upper back, the delicate curve of your spine. every movement is unhurried, like he’s drinking in every millimeter of skin on display for him.

but when the zipper hits its end, you shift slightly to step away, already murmuring, “thanks, i’ll go change—”

but then you feel his lips.

he kisses the back of your neck where it meets your shoulders. just a press; just once.

your hands go still where they were gripping the edge of the bathroom doorframe.

he does it again, lower this time. a kiss between your shoulder blades. then one just beneath it.

you freeze.

your breath hitches—sharp. audible. “hyun…” your voice is barely a whisper.

but he doesn’t answer; he just keeps going.

he leaves soft, aching kisses, one after another, slowly tracing the length of your spine. his mouth is warm and open and unbearably gentle. his hands bracket your hips to keep you steady as your fingers fly up to brace against the wall.

your knees wobble as he noses aside the open fabric of your dress, the silk parting easily under his touch. his lips find the small of your back. your breathing stutters.

you’re gasping now. flushed and shaking.

and when you arch back slightly– just barely, just enough– he exhales like you knocked the air from his lungs.

you feel him shift closer; feel the way his breath brushes across your skin as he speaks against the base of your spine:

“you have no idea what you do to me.”

you make a sound, soft and ruined. something between a laugh and a moan.

“i think i’m starting to understand.”

his fingers slide up your arms, over your shoulders, down your sides as your dress slips, gravity tugging it lower.

you let it fall. let it drop down beside every wall you’ve ever built.

and hyunjin– swearing under his breath– turns you around gently, like he needs to see you, like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever touched.

your lashes flutter as your eyes meet. his are molten.

he leans in, and you’re done for.

the kiss is fire and silk all at once. slow, deep, utterly dizzying. his hands find your waist again, then your lower back, then up to your ribs like he can’t decide where he needs you most. you tug him in, needing him closer. he groans when your mouths part and then press together again with barely a breath in between.

you’re tipsy, breathless, blissed out; but there’s something simmering under the surface. something you didn’t expect but can’t deny. “i thought you were just gonna unzip me.”

“yeah, well.” he breathes, nuzzling into your neck. “that was before i saw what was under the dress.”

you shove at his chest, scandalized—but smiling.

he kisses you harder.

and when he lifts you into his arms again, bare legs wrapping around his waist, his mouth never leaves yours.

he kisses you like he’s starved for it; like he’s been holding back for all the months you’ve fought and flirted, and now that he’s had one taste, he doesn’t know how to stop. not rushed, not rough– just deep and devouring. 

your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging gently; his palms are under your thighs, keeping you held steady, pressing your bodies together in all the right places.

you moan softly against his lips. he responds with a heady growl.

your hips roll instinctively, and his grip tightens impossibly stronger.

somehow, between kisses and sighs, you manage to tug his tie loose. it falls to the floor with a soft whisper.

“we’re really doing this,” you breathe.

“uh-huh,” he murmurs against your jaw, grin still broad as ever. “try and stop me.”

and then he spins, walks you toward the bed, and drops you onto it.

you bounce once and dissolve into laughter, a flushed, giddy-yet-aroused mess in nothing but your undergarments.

hyunjin stands at the edge of the bed, shirt still half buttoned, hair wild and breathing heavy.

you bite your lip, beckoning with your fingers. “take it off.”

he raises an eyebrow, then gives you the cheekiest fucking smirk you’ve ever seen.

and slowly, dramatically, he unbuttons his shirt.

“you’re such an idiot,” you whisper through a grin.

“you asked for a show,” he says, shimmying out of the sleeves with exaggerated flair and flexing his biceps on purpose. it’s as hot as it is stupid, and you’re laughing so hard your abs ache.

but when the shirt hits the floor and he’s just there– bare chest rising and falling, flushed from champagne and heat– you stop laughing.

your breath catches.

he notices. of course he does. his smirk is slow, knowing; but behind it, his eyes are hungry.

you reach up with hands that are greedy and gentle all at once. your questing fingertips skate over the hard lines of his chest, the flex of muscle beneath warm skin. he shudders under your touch, eyes never leaving you.

your hands slide around his broad shoulders to memorize the planes of his back. you tug him toward you wordlessly; he comes without hesitation.

the kiss that follows steals what little breath you had left.

it’s deep. devouring. not rushed, but full of need that’s no longer interested in pretending. you’re gasping softly into it, high on the heat, the contact, the way his hands splay wide across your body like he’s trying to memorize every inch. 

you never want him to stop kissing you. you never want to go another day without him now.

his knee settles between your thighs, anchoring himself there, and he kisses you until the world tilts sideways, until you’re dizzy and delirious and melting into him.

and then his mouth is dragging from your lips to your jaw, down your throat.

your head tips back, a sigh spilling out when he kisses the hollow just beneath your ear. he lingers there, lips open, breath hot. then lower– across the curve of your neck, where your pulse flutters wildly under his tongue. 

he’s not teasing now, not playing games. the air in the room is thick with want: ripe and humming, a living thing in the small space left between your bodies, woven into every hot kiss he leaves on your skin.

your fingers fist in the sheets.

he kisses open-mouthed over your sternum, warm breath fanning over the thin lace of your bra, eyes fluttering shut like he’s trying not to fall apart from the taste of you. your chest lifts to meet him like it’s instinct.

his hand finds your waist. your fingers bury themselves in his hair again. and for a moment, it’s like time stills.

his mouth, his hands, his body– he’s everywhere, all over you, hot and heavy and perfectly slotted between your thighs. and the look in his eyes when he lifts them to yours… it’s not playful anymore. 

it’s starved.

like he’s never wanted anything the way he wants you. 

you make a small noise in the back of your throat; you meant to say his name, but it comes out sounding more like a whimper. whatever it was, it kicks hyunjin into action.

he peels the lacy thing from your chest slowly, like it matters; like unwrapping something precious. he tosses it aside without ever taking his eyes off you.

and then he just looks. like he can’t decide what part of you he loves the most.

“you’ve been driving me insane,” he breathes, dragging a thumb along your collarbone. “with every smile, every time you pull away, every time you let me close just long enough to miss it when you’re gone.”

your breath catches. “i wasn’t trying to—”

“i know,” he interrupts you gently. “but fuck, i’ve wanted you anyway.”

your voice is barely a whisper; a small, certain thing. “then take me.”

the groan that leaves him is almost animalistic.

and then he starts moving lower.

you gasp when his lips drag down your neck, slow and deliberate. your head tips back instinctively, offering him everything, and he groans again– low and starved and  breathless– as he kisses across your chest, warm mouth trailing fire over your skin.

your hands fist harder in the sheets when his lips find the swell of your breast. he pauses there. breathes you in like he’s memorizing your skin.

and then he looks up at you, dark eyes glittering.

his mouth closes over your nipple in a heartbeat, warm and wet and open. your back arches with a sharp gasp, pleasure jolting through you like a live wire. he groans into your skin when he feels you react, tongue circling slow and steady until your breath goes shaky.

he sucks gently at first– then a little harder, a little meaner, and your thighs press together, utterly helpless.

he gives each one equal attention: licking, sucking, biting, twirling his tongue around each peak until you’re a squirming mess beneath him. his hands never stop moving, either. one pins your hip to the mattress, the other traces your arm, your side, like he’s mapping out every place that make you tremble.

“hyunjin,” you gasp, voice broken and sweet. he just hums against you, smug and satisfied.

“you taste so fucking good,” he mutters, kisses trailing down lower. “you sound even better.”

your skin is burning. your mind’s already half melted. and when he dips his head further, kissing a slow line down your stomach, you sigh so hard it feels like your soul leaves your body.

he takes his time; of course he does.

he kisses every inch of skin like he has all night. like he’s not in a rush to get anywhere– because everywhere he touches is already exactly where he wants to be.

you tremble under his mouth. your hands claw for purchase, grabbing at the sheets, at his bare shoulders, at anything to hold onto while the world narrows down to the heat of him on your skin, the delicious downward drag.

“you’re killing me,” you breathe, voice wrecked already.

he grins against you. “you started it, sweetheart.”

“yeah, well,” you manage, hips twitching when he mouths just above the waistband of your underwear, “you’ve been looking at me like you wanted to do this since day one.”

he looks up at you– smirking, sure, but there’s something darker in his gaze now. something starved and searing.

“you have no idea,” he says, voice low and steady. “i’ve been thinking about this since the second you walked into the engagement party last year and rolled your eyes at me.”

you’re panting now. you had no idea he’s been wanting you all this time; burning for you beneath every jab, every fight, every smug smile and scathing word. “hyunjin…”

“been wondering how you’d taste,” he murmurs into you, fingers hooking in the sides of your panties now. “how you’d sound.”

he drags them down slowly– agonizingly slow. he kisses each newly bared inch of your skin as it’s revealed to him, kneeling at the edge of the bed. and when your underwear’s gone, when you’re completely bare before him, he lets out a ragged little curse and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh; delicate, like a secret.

then he presses another. and another. higher, closer, slower.

you’re shaking.

he spreads your legs with steady hands, and when he sees how wet you are for him– how ready, how desperate– he groans like it hurts.

“look at you,” he breathes. “so needy for me. so fucking pretty.”

you try to bite back a whimper and fail miserably.

he doesn’t tease for long; doesn’t play.

he just dives in.

his mouth finds you with a moan, and the first drag of his tongue through your folds knocks every coherent thought out of your head. you gasp so sharply you see stars spinning in your vision, hips lifting off the mattress.

he groans again– this time into you– and the vibration makes you jerk.

he’s thorough. focused. slow, but relentless in his mouth’s pursuit of your pleasure.

he eats you like he’s starving for it. like you’re a meal he’s been fantasizing about for months, and now that he’s finally got a taste, he’s not letting a single drop go to waste.

he licks deep, then soft, then sucks your clit gently between his lips and your whole body bows off the bed.

“oh my god—” you moan obscenely loud. your hands fly to his hair; fingers threading through it, grabbing tight, tugging hard.

and he fucking moans.

his mouth gets even hungrier, tongue moving faster, deeper, lips sealing around you like he wants to drown in the taste of you. he’s groaning like he loves it; like he was born to do this.

every time you tug his hair, he devours you harder. every time you moan, he groans back. it’s a feedback loop of pleasure and sin-dipped paradise, and you’re spiraling out of control.

“hyunjin,” you cry out, “please, i– please–”

you don’t even know what you’re begging for.

but he knows.

his fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as he mercilessly sucks your clit again, then licks you so deep it almost breaks you. the burn of impending release builds and builds, a thread coiling tighter and tighter– hot and aching and close.

you’re panting, writhing, about to start falling apart beneath him.

you’re right there. about to scream, to sigh, to brand his name in your throat when you break into pieces. and then—

he pulls away.

you whine instinctively, high and breathless and so close to the edge it feels like a crime.

your hips chase his mouth, but he’s already sitting up: lips wet, hair messy, eyes blown wide.

“no– hyun, why—” your words are barely coherent, hands gripping his hair like punishment.

he hushes you gently. he cups your cheek with one palm, thumb brushing your flushed skin.

“i know, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough and ragged. “i know.” then he leans in and kisses you slowly, deeply. tongue still tasting like you.

when he pulls back, his voice is low and molten. “when you lose it for me,” he murmurs, “i need to be inside you.”

your whole body shivers with the promise.

“the first time you fall apart,” he continues, dragging his thumb across your lip as you pant hotly, “i want to feel it. i want to watch you lose it with me buried so deep you can’t remember anything but my name.”

you tremble at the scrape of his thumb against your mouth, the silk of his threat to ruin you. your thighs try to snap shut around him from the sheer ache of it all.

he just smiles, a little smug now. knowing. “yeah?” he mutters, one brow raising. “you like the sound of that, sweetheart?”

you nod fervently, hands tracing fire up the hard muscles of his bare back. he shudders and grips your face tighter in his hold. “show me then.”

and god, you do.

you pull him to you with one desperate tug. you surge up, crashing your mouth into his like you’ve been starving without his lips on yours. 

it’s messy and bruising and so fucking hungry, all tongue and teeth and gasps that melt into moans. he groans against your lips like he’s losing his mind, hands flexing around your bare waist, pressing you down like he can’t stand a single inch of space between you.

your fingers go straight to his belt like instinct, frantic and shaking, tugging at the leather until it comes loose. you don’t even get the buckle fully undone before he takes over– deft, practiced, so effortlessly it makes your head spin. in one fluid movement he pulls away just far enough to strip, belt first, then pants, and then he’s back on you before you can even process the sight.

his body slots against yours like you’re made for it. hot skin, hard lines, the heavy weight of him grinding slow and filthy into the wet heat between your legs, just to feel the proof of your obsession.

“fuck, baby,” he breathes, dragging his mouth over your jaw, your cheek, your throat. “you’re soaked. shit, you’re so perfect.”

his voice breaks on that last word, like it hurts him to say it. like he’s been holding that thought back for months, and now it’s just pouring out of him like praise.

he finds your neck again, biting down a little meaner now, tongue flicking over the sultry sting. you arch into it, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in like you’re trying to anchor yourself. he leaves one, two, three hickeys in his wake; and when he pulls back just enough to look down at you– at the way you’re panting and trembling and staring up at him like he hung the moon– you swear you’ve never seen eyes so dark.

you whine again, but this time it breaks apart on your tongue, shredded and desperate.

“please,” you whisper, and then louder. “please– please just– fuck, hyunjin, i need you—”

you can’t even finish it. it collapses into a cry as he grinds down again, cock thick and hot against your soaked folds, barely held back.

his whole body shudders. “say it again.”

you writhe desperately beneath him. “hyun, i– i need you.”

“say it like you mean it, baby.”

you look up at him, wrecked and open and trembling beneath the weight of everything you feel.

“i need you so bad, please– want you to ruin me, to fucking claim me, hyunjin—please—”

he growls. that’s the only word for the sound he makes. it rips out of his throat, low and raw and absolutely feral with desire; and before you can blink, he’s reaching down between you, fisting himself, and lining up.

but even then– even with every muscle in his body screaming with restraint, with want– he still slows down. still brushes his mouth over yours, kisses you like he’s trying to control himself, like this is a moment he’s going to remember for the rest of his life.

“you want this?” he whispers against your mouth, hot and tender all at once.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, more sure than you’ve ever been. “i want you.”

and with nothing to hold him back anymore, he pushes in.

slow. so slow. just the tip at first, and it already knocks the air out of your lungs. thick and hot and stretching, already filling you in a way that makes your fingers curl and your mouth fall open. he’s watching you the whole time: watching your eyes flutter shut, your hips twitch up to meet him, your breath stutter on every inch.

“fuck, you take me so well,” he breathes, jaw clenched so hard it looks like it might snap. “you’re—shit, you’re perfect.”

you whimper beneath him, fingers digging into his arms. he bottoms out with a groan that shakes his whole body, burying himself in you fully, letting your walls pulse and flutter around him madly as your cunt adjusts to the perfect fit of him inside.

he doesn’t move. not yet.

he just kisses you again, softer this time. lips slow and deep. hands cupping your face like you’re fragile and burning all at once.

“you feel so good, baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, “so fucking good. i don’t wanna rush this. i don’t wanna miss a single second.”

but the way you clench around him at that– the way your legs wrap tighter around his waist and your nails bite into his back like you want him to lose control– you know you’re not gonna last.

and neither is he.

he moves– slow at first. so achingly slow you could cry from the restraint, from the way his hips roll instead of snap, from how he pulls back an inch just to slide deeper again– deeper still, like he’s memorizing every inch of you. like he wants to draw it out. like this is the moment he’s been aching for all this time.

“oh my god—” you choke, breath catching on the stretch. he fits so deep it feels like your body has never held anything before him; like he’s claiming every empty space you’ve ever had.

hyunjin moans above you, low and broken, lips dragging across your temple, your cheek, your throat. “you feel– fuck, baby, you feel like heaven,” he pants, voice barely holding itself together. “so wet. so good. it’s like—” he kisses you hard, like the words are too much. “it’s like you were made for me.”

you let out a depraved whimper at that, nails clawing down his back in unforgiving lines of red.

“again,” you moan out, already so gone on his cock.

he doesn’t ask what you mean, just murmurs it straight into your skin like a prayer:

“fucking made for me. all mine. you were always mine.”

he thrusts a little harder on that word, and your back arches– shameless, gasping, drunk on his possession of your pleasure; of your soul.

his hands slide down, rough and searching all at once. one palms your thigh, presses it up high against his side, opening you up so he can sink even deeper. the other cradles your jaw, thumb skating your lower lip as he looks down at you, fucked-out and flushed and undone beneath him.

and then he starts to move for real.

but not all at once. he builds; keeps that rhythm steady, just enough to make you moan every time his hips meet yours, just enough to keep your brain from catching up with your body. he buries himself to the hilt in deep, rhythmic, coaxing strokes that drag across every nerve ending you have. every slow pull-out is a tease, every push-in a claim.

your body trembles under it. you’re already unraveling, already starting to babble. “hyun– baby, fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he whispers, lips brushing yours, “you’re doing so well. taking me so good.”

he kisses you before you can fall apart. swallows your moans, chases your breath, tangles his tongue with yours like he’s trying to swallow your desperation whole. he fucks you through it like he’s rewriting everything you ever believed about pleasure with steady hips, deep strokes, and the kind of pressure that builds and burns.

you roll your hips up to meet him and something shatters.

he curses, low and wrecked, and then his control breaks.

his next thrust is harder. then another, harder still. he starts to snap into you, faster, deeper, messy and unrelenting but still fucking tuned to you– watching your eyes, your lips, every twitch and whimper and gasp you make.

you wrap your legs around his waist tighter, pull him impossibly closer, hold him there like you never want to let him go—

and he gives in.

he fucks you like he means it now. hips rocking in deep, fast, punishing strokes that make the whole mattress shake, that have the headboard creaking and your lungs fluttering and your body reduced to nothing but fire. your nails rake down his back, claw at his broad shoulders, tug wildly at his hair like a woman driven to the brink of madness.

he lavishes hot, open-mouthed kisses into the column of your throat through your gasps. he murmurs praise between his own ragged breaths. moan after wanton moan leaves you, noisy and needy and utterly his for the taking.

“you sound so pretty like this,” he whispers, voice dark and dangerous. “so fucking perfect. been dreaming about this, baby, dreaming about you.”

you’re barely coherent. a sobbing, panting mess beneath him; and he loves it.

his mouth finds yours again, kissing you like fire before it drops to your jaw, your shoulder. he licks and bites and groans as he drives into you, and when your hands tangle in his hair and pull, he lets out the most wrecked, depraved sound you’ve ever heard a man make.

you clench around him hard.

he thrusts even harder.

“fuck– shit, sweetheart, you’re close, i can feel it.” he pants, eyes tracking your every move under him.

you nod, frantic. “please, hyunjin– please, wanna come, please—”

he moans, kisses you again, deep and desperate and fucking delirious.

“let go for me, y/n. fucking lose it on me.”

and you do.

you detonate like a bomb; pleasure explodes behind your eyelids, body washed with a white-hot wave of cresting release. you arch into him with abandon, nothing but a string of moans leaving you, and he holds you close; fucks you through all of it.

your orgasm crashes through you like a goddamn tidal wave, and you don’t even try to hold back the wrecked, breathless cries that pour from your mouth of his name, again and again, broken between syllables and sobs of pleasure as your body convulses around him.

hyunjin groans– low, guttural, like the sound is being dragged from the depths of him. his hands grip you tight, one on your hip, the other cupping the back of your head as he presses his forehead to yours.

“fuck– fuck, y/n, you feel so good—”

he’s right there. you can feel it. the frantic rhythm of his hips faltering, the thick tension coiling in every muscle. he’s chasing it now, teetering right on the edge with you pulsing around him like a vice, milking him for everything he’s got.

and then you drag him under; he doesn’t even need to ask where to go before you’re begging him to fill you up, to merge his soul with yours so he can never leave. “inside, hyun,” you gasp, and it’s the final straw. his mouth finds yours as he follows you into his orgasm.

you clench down around him again, helpless and overstimulated and still trembling, and that’s all it takes: he lets go with a hoarse, broken moan, thrusting deep. he stays there, buried to the hilt as he spills into you, thick and hot and shuddering.

but he doesn’t stop kissing you.

he kisses you through all of it– through the peak, the fallout, the aftershocks– his lips crashing into yours like he’s afraid he’ll crumble into pieces if he lets go. it’s messy and wild and tender all at once, like the only way to survive it is to keep holding you. like he wants to fuse with you. like he needs to.

your hands cradle his face, fingers curled in his sweat-damp hair, and you kiss him back just as desperately, mouths sliding, breathing each other in like oxygen.

“hyunjin—” you gasp, and it sounds like a sob, overwhelmed and soft and still so fucking full.

“i know,” he murmurs, barely coherent, voice wrecked. “i know, baby.”

you stay like that for a long, breathless moment. tangled. flushed. your bodies pressed together so close it’s like you’ve melted into one. he’s still inside you. still hard enough to make you twitch with aftershocks, though his hips have gone still.

his forehead stays pressed to yours. his eyes are closed. he’s breathing like he just ran a marathon.

eventually, he pulls in a deep inhale, still not moving.

“so,” he says, voice hoarse but teasing, “was that… acceptable?”

you laugh; or maybe it’s a wheeze. your whole chest shakes with it. “acceptable?”

“mm.” he brushes his nose against yours as his voice takes on its signature lilt. “you know. passable. decently satisfying. ‘A’ for effort.”

you roll your eyes, still catching your breath. “you fucked me like you wanted to break the bed and then kissed me like the world was ending. i think it passes, hyunjin.”

“end of the world, huh?” he hums, finally shifting enough to nose along your jaw again, pressing a softer kiss beneath your ear. “so dramatic.”

you roll your eyes even as he stays buried deliciously inside you. “you started it.”

“baby,” he whispers, grinning, “you begged me to ruin you.”

“yeah, well.” you wiggle a little, wince at the sensitivity. “you did.”

he groans into your skin. “don’t say that. i’m already thinking about going again.”

“god, you’re insatiable.” you laugh, half-ruined and half ready to take more.

“only for you.” he smiles, far too sweet for a man still nestled deep inside. “but you knew that already.”

you snort, cheeks hot. “you’re actually disgusting.”

“mhm.” he shifts just slightly, and you both hiss. “disgusting and still inside you.”

“hyunjin—” your whine is a warning.

“don’t worry,” he whispers, hand sliding gently down your thigh again. “i’ll stay right here. as long as you want.”

you go quiet for a beat.

and then you whisper, soft and too real, “what if i want forever?”

he stills. his breath catches.

his fingers tighten on your hip like he’s anchoring himself to the moment as he looks down at you with something raw in his eyes– something bright and tender and a little shaken.

“then that’s what i’ll give you,” he says.

and the silence that follows feels like a vow.

you reach up, tuck a damp strand of hair from his face, let your thumb trace the curve of his jaw.

“we’re gonna need a new bed in this room,” you murmur.

his smile breaks wide and fond and utterly wrecked. “we’ll get two. one for sleeping, one for—”

“don’t you dare say sex.”

“—exercise,” he finishes innocently. and then he winks. “gotta keep our stamina up.”

you groan even as you giggle, swatting at his shoulder. “you’re unbelievable.”

“and yet,” he murmurs, hips nudging you just barely, teasing, “you’re still letting me stay inside you.”

“mm, true. i guess two beds would work, just as long as they don’t give us another one of those god-awful rolling ones. my spine is still recovering.” you give in with a smile pulling at your lips.

he kisses you through a laugh; and this time, it’s slow.

like forever isn’t such a crazy idea after all.

–

when you wake up for your last morning in paradise, the room is awash in gold.

sunlight slips through the gauzy curtains and spills across the bed in long, slow stripes; like it, too, is reluctant to leave the warmth of this room. the sheets are half-kicked off the mattress. your limbs are tangled with hyunjin’s like someone tried to sculpt desire from honey and silk and then promptly gave up halfway through.

you’re wearing nothing but his dress shirt, wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, the collar sliding low off one shoulder. he, predictably, is completely naked– smug even in sleep.

his arm is draped heavy over your waist, your face tucked into the crook of his neck. one of your thighs is slotted between his, and your foot is hooked behind his calf like your body didn’t get the memo that last night is over.

it’s not. not really.

hyunjin stirs first. he yawns, long and low, the stretch of his muscles pressing you closer. he blinks awake slowly, lashes fluttering. when he sees you curled into his chest, his sleepy grin softens his whole face.

“mm,” he mumbles, voice like gravel in sunlight, “good morning.”

you hum, but don’t move. just burrow deeper into him, fingers slipping under his side, leg pulling him tighter against you.

he huffs a soft laugh into your hair. “oh? addicted to me already, huh?”

you smile into his skin. “bold of you to assume i wasn’t before.”

that earns you a sleepy chuckle. “god, you’re dangerous in the mornings.”

you nuzzle under his jaw, kiss the pulse point there once, lazily. “and you’re naked.”

“get used to it, sweetheart.” comes his lazy reply.

you’re grinning as you press a palm to the bare plane of his chest, thumbing just beneath his collarbone, and you press a single kiss to his throat. just one.

he sighs, mock-suffering. “it’s like you want me to keep you here all morning.”

you finally lift your head. his hair is a sunbeam-riddled mess, splayed across the pillow. his lips are kiss-bitten and swollen. his eyes are sleepy and warm, flickering over your face like he’s trying to memorize you in this light.

“what if i do?” you murmur.

and then you kiss him.

it’s slow, molten, a little lazy; like you’ve got all the time in the world. but there’s a pull to it, a gravity. like you need this– need him– even now, especially now. your mouths find each other with the kind of ease that feels inevitable. you taste like sleep and sun and something sweeter still while his hand slides up your thigh, catching under the hem of his shirt. he pushes until his palm is flat against your bare skin.

he groans, low in his chest, when your tongue brushes his. when you sigh into him like this kiss might undo you all over again, losing yourself in his mouth.

“jesus,” hyunjin murmurs against your lips, already half-hard despite barely waking up.

and then you swing one leg over his hip.

you straddle him with a slow, feline roll, earning a throaty, disbelieving sound from him. you brace yourself with your hands pressed against his chest as you lean your forehead on his, smirking.

his hands settle at your waist. “oh,” he breathes, grinning, “so that’s how we’re starting the day?”

“mhm,” you murmur, brushing your nose against his, “it’s been said that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

his laughter curls under your skin. you drink it down like sunlight. and when you kiss him again, it’s with the full weight of your bodies pressed together, all gold and warmth and wicked, wicked want.

“that’s my fucking girl.”

your smirk turns satisfied, even as your lashes dip, even as your thighs tighten just slightly around his hips. he leans up to steal one more kiss– open-mouthed, sleepy– before he breaks away with a groan, flopping back into the pillows.

“baby,” he says, voice gravel-soft and fond, “let’s at least shower first. we went a little wild last night.”

you pout dramatically, burrowing into his chest like the world’s horniest blanket. “don’t wanna be apart that long.”

he huffs, and the warmth of it tickles your temple. “who said anything about apart?”

before you can react, his hands are gripping your thighs again, strong and sure as he lifts you off the bed like you weigh nothing. you yelp, startled, arms flying around his shoulders, legs instinctively locking around his waist.

“hyunjin—!”

he kisses your shoulder like an apology and a promise all in one. “shh, baby. you said you didn’t wanna be apart. i’m fixing it.”

your giggles echo all the way to the bathroom.

he nudges the door open with one knee and sets you delicately on the countertop while he leans into the shower to turn the water on. steam begins to bloom instantly, curling around you both in ribbons of heat.

and god, the image in the mirror is obscene.

you’re perched on the edge of the counter in nothing but his wrinkled dress shirt, the hem just barely skimming your thighs, the collar sliding off one shoulder. your neck is littered in hickeys, your lips pink and swollen from kissing. your hair is a tousled mess, cheeks flushed, legs still parted slightly from where he’d carried you in. you look fucked-out and gloriously adored.

he catches you looking and smirks, stepping between your knees. “you seeing what i’m seeing?”

you hum, curling your fingers into the open edge of his shirt, “yeah. a boy who’s way too cocky about this.”

he raises an eyebrow, then leans in to kiss you, slow and teasing. “lucky for you, i’m capable of being humble every now and then.”

you pull each other into the shower between kisses.

the heat hits first: steam rising as water spills down your shoulders, your spine. hyunjin groans when he presses in close again, the skin-on-skin contact enough to short-circuit both your thoughts.

his hands are everywhere, smoothing shampoo through your hair and scrubbing gentle circles into your scalp. he rinses with fingers that massage a little too lovingly behind your ears, like he wants to memorize every part of you again. he works conditioner through the ends of your hair next, all while kissing a trail from your shoulder to your neck.

you can barely stand it.

“hyunjin,” you whisper, shivering under the slick glide of his palms across your shoulders. “you’re spoiling me.”

he kisses just below your ear. “that’s the plan.”

he turns you gently, soap lathered in his hands, and drags his fingers down the length of your spine. he washes you with intimate care, every stroke slow and deliberate. when he reaches around to your stomach, your breasts, it’s with soft hands– palms splayed like he’s trying to ground himself in you.

you turn in his arms before you melt completely. your mouth finds his again, and this time it’s hungrier, wetter, steam-drenched and dizzy.

his hands drop lower. yours slide up his chest, fingers curling into the wet strands of his hair as you pull him closer.

and then he presses you back against the cool tile.

you gasp at the contrast of heat and cold, but he’s there to catch it– his mouth already on yours, one hand braced behind your back, the other smoothing down your thigh to hook it around his hip. you arch into him instinctively, the thick line of him dragging against your core, and it pulls a sound from both of you; needy, unguarded, delirious.

you say ‘please’ into his mouth, and he doesn’t make you ask again.

he rocks into you slow at first.

his forehead presses to yours, lips brushing as he murmurs sweet, incoherent things against you. your moans tangle with his, kissed into each other, chased and swallowed down like you both can’t bear to be apart even for a breath.

his thrusts deepen. one hand comes up to brace against the tile behind your shoulder while the other grips your thigh tighter, lifting you with the rhythm. water pours down both of you, slicking every grind, every glide. you’re clinging to him like gravity doesn’t exist, like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

you moan, long and low, and he drinks up the sound like it’s ambrosia. “you sound so pretty, baby,” he whispers against your jaw. 

your moan turns sharp as he hits that sweet spot inside you. your hands grip his hair tight as his mouth finds yours again, eating up every little noise.

“still mine?” he mutters, wrecked.

you cup his face, thumb brushing his cheek as you pant, breathless, “always.”

he lets out a groan so low it vibrates through your whole chest– and then he lifts you fully, hoisting you off the ground with expert strength.

your legs lock around him again, hands clawing at his back, and he fucks into you like he wants to feel you forever– like he needs you under his skin. every movement is deliberate and tender and feral all at once, a perfect storm of sensation: the press of his lips, the drip of the water, the throb of need blooming between your hips, release winding tight inside you.

your eyes lock, and the look on his face makes your breath catch.

his eyes look like he’s seeing heaven. like he’s already inside it.

his thrusts grow harder, deeper, but never hurried; every roll of his hips is thick with purpose. like he wants to make this last, like he’s savoring every second he gets to be inside you.

you’re clinging to him with everything you have. nails digging into his shoulders. moans tangled in your throat. your back pressed to the tile, water streaming over both of you in a downpour of heat, legs locked around him like a vice.

“baby,” he breathes, kissing your jaw, your temple, your lips in rapid succession. “so fucking tight– feels so good—”

your only answer is a gasp as he grinds into just the right spot, over and over, until your legs are shaking around him. you’re throttling towards your peak, about to crash through it at breakneck speed.

you bury your face in his neck. “hyunjin—i’m—oh god—”

“yeah?” he murmurs, angling his hips again. “you gonna come for me, pretty girl? right here in my arms?”

your ‘yes’ is more like a sob than a word.

you fall apart in his arms with a pornographic cry of his name.

he holds you tighter, chest to chest, skin slipping in the spray, as he fucks you through it; your climax crashing over you like the water, breath caught, muscles clenched, every nerve lit and sparking under his touch. he doesn’t stop. not when you shake. not when you keen. not when his mouth finds yours again and steals the sound of his name right out of your lungs.

he follows you moments later, pulsing deep inside, hips stuttering as his head drops to your shoulder and litters the skin there with desperate kisses. you feel him spill into you with a groan so guttural it sounds like a prayer.

then silence; just your breathing. his heartbeat. the hiss of the water. the way he clutches you like he’ll never let go.

you’re both trembling a little when he lowers your feet gently back down to the shower floor, arms still looped around each other, foreheads pressed close. you sit there together for a second– completely wrapped up, bare and wrecked, letting the heat soothe and the aftershocks settle.

he’s the first to speak.

“so,” he says, voice low and ruined, “i think that counts as technically showering.”

you laugh, weak and winded, resting your head against his. “depends. are we cleaner or dirtier now?”

he tilts his head, stare lazy, mouth quirking into a grin. “emotionally? dirtier. physically… well, we’ll see.”

you sigh at the mischief in his eyes. “you’re gonna start a checklist, aren’t you?”

he nods solemnly. “shower: check. countertop: pending. balcony: rain-dependent.”

you snort. “you’re actually insane.”

“semantics. you’re still letting me soap you up again,” he murmurs, already reaching for the bottle.

you melt as he lathers his hands and starts smoothing over your arms, your collarbones, your thighs. his touch is reverent again; so soft it makes your throat tighten.

his eyes lift to meet yours, gaze unbearably warm. he kisses you again like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched. like the whole world could fall away and he wouldn’t notice, not as long as you’re here in his arms.

and even with the water cooling and the steam beginning to fade, you feel it more than ever.

this is home.

–

the bridal party’s last hurrah is lunch on the beach, scheduled for noon.

but you and hyunjin arrive late.

not like rude-late; not fashionably late.

no– sinfully late. hair still-damp-from-the-shower late. matching fresh hickeys peeking from your collars late. glowing-like-you-just-came-twice kind of late.

and everyone knows it.

“well, well, well,” minji drawls, practically purring from her throne of throw pillows and white linen. “if it isn’t the final two to arrive… looking like they just barely survived a natural disaster.”

minho leans in, not even trying to hide his smirk. “specifically a category-five dickdown.”

yeji snorts into her mimosa. “confirmed. i saw them walking here, and hyunjin was literally adjusting his back.”

“oh my god,” you whisper under your breath, trying and failing to shrink into hyunjin’s side as everyone erupts.

hyunjin, for his part, just slides on his sunglasses with the smugness of a man who knows what he did. and isn’t saying sorry.

“you’re welcome for not being louder,” he says. “you’re lucky the hotel walls were reinforced.”

“baby,” minji says, turning to minho with a look of pride and exhaustion, “we did it. we got married and our best man and maid of honor finally fucked the tension out of their system.”

“just in time for our honeymoon,” minho agrees, raising his mimosa in salute.

felix grins and clinks his glass to theirs. “to minji and minho: may your love be as eternal as hyunjin’s refractory period apparently wasn’t.”

“damn, lix, that’s too far,” yunho gasps, nearly choking on his pineapple concoction.

“more like too correct,” wendy says with a cackle.

you cover your face with your hands. “i hate all of you.”

“you love us,” jihyo singsongs. “admit it. now that you’re relaxed and post-coital and no longer actively trying to strangle hyunjin with a decorative napkin, you know we’re your favorites.”

“i liked that phase,” hyunjae says solemnly, turning to you. “you kept him humble.”

“did she?” sana says. “because from the look on his face right now, his ego might’ve grown three sizes.”

you peek up at hyunjin, who’s definitely not hiding a wicked grin as he watches you try to stifle a laugh.

“anyway,” minji says, nudging a plate of croissants toward you, “now that the bridal party chaos is complete, can we talk about how insanely perfect yesterday was? i think i won best destination wedding ever.”

“i cried three separate times and my mascara didn’t even run,” jihyo says.

“i can’t decide what i loved the most; the ceremony? the flower arch? minho looking like a k-drama lead and minji walking down the aisle with that veil?” sana fans herself dramatically.

“you guys were so beautiful,” yeji sighs. “and the vows—”

“minho sobbing like a baby,” jimin teases.

“man, that was iconic,” felix adds, “your marriage is already perfect.”

“and the reception,” wendy groans, starry-eyed. “the food, the dancing, the freaking sunset over the water—”

“and the photos!” sana chimes. “did you guys see the preview the photographer posted?”

yeji spins her phone around with some of the pictures in question. “look at this one of you two dancing. tell me this doesn’t belong in a fashion magazine.”

you and hyunjin lean in–

and yeah. it’s ridiculous. the glow of the lights, the sway of the fabric, the look on his face as he twirled you. it was taken moments before that fateful kiss, when hyunjin was melting with affection and you were glowing like you were made of starlight.

he leans close, murmurs low, just for you. “you looked like a dream last night.”

you glance sideways at him, pulse skipping. “just last night?” you tease.

he smiles. “my apologies, you’re right. every night.”

across the table, minji makes a gagging sound. “you two are gonna be so annoying now.”

“god, right?” yeji agrees. “it’s like watching live footage of a kinky hallmark movie.”

“you’ve roomed with each other for less than a week!” minho exclaims.

hyunjin just shrugs. “some of us are fast learners.”

“or fast fuckers,” yunho says under his breath.

“shut the fuck up, yunho,” you screech, laughing as you whip a napkin at him.

the chaos bubbles up again– teasing and toasting and mimosa clinks and more croissants passed around. minji tucks into minho’s side. yeji and jimin share sunglasses. jihyo and wendy are arguing about who gets credit for catching the bouquet.

and amid it all, hyunjin reaches over and laces his fingers with yours under the table.

he doesn’t even look down. he just knows where your hand will be. and you, already flushed and full from all the laughter and orange juice and barely concealed afterglow, let yourself smile. wide and open and stupidly soft.

sana catches it instantly. “oh my god, it’s the gentle hand-holding now.”

“that’s not even the grossest part,” jihyo says, shaking her head like she’s watching a crime unfold. “look at how she’s leaning into him.”

“look at him,” jimin corrects. “this man has the expression of someone who just discovered what joy is.”

“don’t be dramatic,” you grumble.

“you’re the one who came skipping down from heaven this morning,” felix adds.

“she definitely wasn’t skipping,” hyunjin says, casual as ever, taking a sip from his water like he isn’t about to detonate the table. “she could barely walk.”

there’s a collective scream.

you bury your head in your hands, ears flushed bright red.

“hyunjin!” jihyo yells, smacking the table.

“i take it back, this is the grossest part,” sana says, cackling so hard she tips into hyunjae’s shoulder.

meanwhile, minji’s in a world of her own swiping through the wedding photographer’s sneak peek on her phone, dragging minho’s head down onto her shoulder so she can show him.

“look at this one,” she murmurs, “the one of us walking down the aisle after the ceremony.”

minho’s expression softens. “you look like sunshine.”

“and you look like a man who just bagged a goddess,” wendy sighs, leaning over to peek. “as you should.”

“guys,” jihyo says, holding up her phone now, “this one of us all during the toasts—look at everyone’s faces. felix is crying.”

“i wasn’t crying,” felix lies. 

“you were sobbing into your wine glass,” yunho says.

“okay, and?”

“god, the dancing ones,” wendy says, scrolling with a dreamy sigh. “look at minji’s dress spinning. and minho just watching her like she hung the moon.”

“i did hang the moon,” minji says.

“confirmed,” minho nods. “i was there.”

someone gasps suddenly. “holy shit, you guys. look at this shot of hyunjin and y/n.”

your head shoots up. “nope. nope. what shot?”

“this one,” yeji says, spinning her phone around– and it’s another photo of you and hyunjin on the dance floor.

you’re laughing, joy lighting up your face. he’s looking at you like you’re the only real thing in frame as your hands are tangled between you, his grip around your waist firm and protective, his body bent just slightly toward yours like your gravity is stronger than anything else in the room.

“…okay, fine,” felix says softly. “you guys win.”

you stare at the image for a moment too long. then you smile, just a little. “yeah,” you murmur, barely audible above the table’s chaos. “we do.”

hyunjin’s already looking at you. again. like he never stopped.

you don’t even need to meet his eyes to feel it; the way he glances over like it’s involuntary. the way his hand hasn’t left yours once.

it’s almost enough to make you miss what minji’s saying.

“—so we’re heading out tomorrow morning. 10am flight to sicily. full two weeks. i’ve already booked three dinners we cannot afford and one boat ride that might get us arrested.”

“you’re gonna be the most insufferable newlyweds italy has ever seen,” yeji says fondly.

“you deserve to be,” jihyo adds.

“we’re gonna miss you,” wendy says. “like, so much.”

“who’s gonna keep felix from turning the hotel lobby into a runway of extra outfits he didn’t get a chance to wear this week?” yunho jokes.

“no one,” felix says proudly.

minho looks around the table, all chaos and crumbs and sunlight and people he loves. he swallows, visibly moved.

“we love you guys,” he says. “thanks for making our wedding more than we ever dreamed it could be.”

minji lifts her mimosa. “to friends who turn into family.”

glasses clink. tears are shed. spa plans are made.

and under the table, hyunjin squeezes your hand. you squeeze back.

you don’t even look down:

you just know.

he’s here to stay.

-

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @skzfflovers @starlostjisung @mochirecs @mineyoonghi @tsunderelino @a-person-with-void @parkboraya @akindaflora @vmptoxins @tajannah-price1 @asp3ntree @cheonsashi0124 @rikisgalore @night-storm7 @vxyselectric @yaorzu-blog @jungkookies1002 @dragon03138 @jiniret0229

[straykeedz-recs]

la petite mort

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pairing: hyunjin x fem reader

word count: 6.7K

contains: +18, bf!Hyunjin, established relationship, praise kink, deep intimacy, eyes locked the whole time, dry humping, grinding, tit play, oral (f and m receiving), couch makeout, soft & messy <333

authors note: english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance +++ requests are open! :)

summary: What began as a quiet night unraveled into something deeper. No need for explanations. Just touch, breath, and the weight of your little deaths shared in silence.

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𝐿𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡, 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 “𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ”, 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑠𝑚. 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑔𝑜, 𝑓𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑠, 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑒𝑤.

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!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!!

The apartment smelled like paint and night air. It was quiet, save for the low creak of wooden floorboards beneath your steps. No music playing, a rare occasion.

Hyunjin stood in his desk, shirt loose, bare feet, brow furrowed as he stared at the blank notebook like it was keeping secrets. He hadn’t noticed you yet.

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching him in that quiet way he always did with you, like you were something he didn’t want to startle. There was something reverent in it. Careful. Curious.

When he turned, his expression barely shifted, but you saw the softness behind his eyes.

“You ever feel like your body remembers something your soul hasn’t caught up to?” he asked, voice low, rough with thought. “Like there’s a truth hiding under your skin, just waiting for the right hands to draw it out.”

You blinked, heart stammering, unsure about what he was talking about.

“Is that what you’re drawing?” you asked, stepping further into the room, your gaze moving from him to the white blank page.

He looked at it again, then down at his fingers, holding a pen. “I’m not drawing anything. I’m waiting for something to start me.”

He stood up, looking at you with those soft, caring eyes. "Come here"

You moved beside him, close, and then into him.

He opened his arms instinctively, and you folded yourself there, letting your cheek rest against the slope of his chest. His heat sank into your skin. He smelled like bergamot and dust and something quieter, something like him. You felt his heart beneath your ear.

His hand came up carefully, brushing along your hair and held the back of your head in that gentle way of his, thumb tucked just behind your ear.

Then, a kiss to your forehead. Barely there.

A second, softer, to the tip of your nose.

And then your mouth.

Slow. Intentional.

When he pulled back, you barely had time to breathe before he was looking at you again, eyes flicking between your own like they were answering something he hadn’t asked aloud.

“Maybe you’re thinking too much,” you said gently.

He glanced at you. “I’m always thinking too much.”

A quiet beat passed.

Then, softly “Sit for me.”

You turned to him. “What?”

His eyes didn’t waver. “Not to pose. Just… be near me. Let me look at you.”

The way he said it... it wasn’t flirtation. It was something deeper. A study. A prayer. A longing you weren’t sure you had the words for.

You sat on the chair near the corner, folding your hands over your knees, and waited.

Hyunjin stayed standing, sketchbook in hand, but didn’t draw. He stared at you like he was trying to memorize you all at once, but not your features, your presence. The slope of your breath. The way your fingers twitched when the wind shifted. The small furrow in your brow you didn’t know you wore when you were trying not to look nervous.

“I don’t think this will help me” he said after a long silence.

You tilted your head. “No?”

He stepped forward, eyes tracing over you. “I don’t know how to explain. Something is... missing”

You swallowed. Hard.

When he reached out, he didn’t touch your skin. His hand hovered near your jaw, eyes flicking to your lips like they were part of a language he was just learning. He leaned in, close enough that your breath caught between you, and whispered: “Don’t move yet. I’m still listening to what you’re not saying.”

You didn’t move. Not when he leaned in, not when his breath brushed over your lips. Something in the room had shifted, not heavier, not darker, but quieter, as if the air itself had gone still to watch whatever this was.

His fingers found your jaw, the barest touch. Thumb soft against your skin, careful, like the edge of a page he didn’t want to tear. And then he kissed you again, not hesitant, but slow. Maddening slow.

You kissed him back, hands curling into the loose fabric of his shirt, and felt the way his body answered, that low, aching tension held in his shoulders, in the steady drag of his hand down your spine. Like he had been waiting. Not for permission, but for timing.

Hyunjin pulled you with him as he stepped backward, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the room couch. He sank down and guided you into his lap like it was inevitable, like your body had always belonged there, curved around his. Your legs straddled him, knees pressing into the cushions.

He kissed you again, deeper now, mouth parted, lips plush and warm and present, and when your tongue brushed his, the sound he made was quiet, broken, helpless.

His hands were everywhere. One cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, anchoring you there; the other slid up beneath your shirt, trailing fire along the curve of your spine. His fingers flexed against your ribs, then flattened across the bare skin of your back like he needed to feel all of you at once. You arched into him, gasping into his mouth when his teeth grazed your lower lip, not biting, just holding.

Hyunjin had always kissed you with passion, he felt everything too deeply to pretend otherwise, but this time, something was different.

There was a quiet urgency in him tonight. Not rushed, not greedy. But the kind of desperation that blooms when you’ve spent too long pretending your hands weren’t shaking.

You felt it in the way his mouth chased yours, not letting you pull away, not for a second. He licked into you like he was searching for something. His tongue moved with a slow, aching precision, catching your whimpers before they left your throat.

And you kissed him back with everything you had.

Your fingers ran into his hair, letting dark strands spill between your knuckles. He moaned, low and caught, and the sound curled straight through your belly. You could feel him hard beneath you, pressed between your thighs, and when you rocked against him instinctively, his breath stuttered against your lips.

Your shirt was the first to go. He lifted it over your head with a kind of reverence, tossing it aside without breaking eye contact. His gaze dropped and lingered on your chest. But when his hands came up, they didn’t grope, didn’t rush. They mapped. He brushed his palms up your sides, over your bra, thumbs circling so gently it made your whole body ache. Every touch was a promise.

You tugged at his shirt next, and he let you pull it off in one fluid motion. His skin was warm beneath your palms, you kissed his shoulder, the hollow of his throat, the line of his jaw, and he took it all, eyes fluttering shut, hands still roaming, anchoring you there.

He kissed you again, still slow, tongues brushing, deepening as your hands found the nape of his neck. Something about now felt heavier. Hungrier, yes, but also more delicate. Like he wasn’t just chasing pleasure, he was chasing meaning.

You felt the shift in him. In yourself. Something unspoken, but certain.

And when he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, you didn’t need to ask what he was thinking.

You felt his breath before you felt his mouth, warm, steady, brushing over your lips like a promise. His hand slid up the length of your spine, his fingers splaying wide across your bare skin.

In a second, you were kissing again.

It started soft, reverent. His lips molding to yours with quiet hunger, his body close enough for you to feel the tension in his chest, how hard he was trying to stay slow. To savor. Your mouth opened for him like instinct, like worship, and his tongue slid against yours with a pace that was deliberate, drugging. Not a rush, a study. Every tilt of his head, every graze of his teeth, a test of how much he could pull from you without either of you breaking.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders. Then into his neck. Then into his hair. You needed him closer, even when he was already everywhere.

The kiss deepened.

Got messier.

Tongues meeting more urgently now, wet and warm, a shared breath between gasps. Your thighs tightened around his hips without thinking. His hand slid further, tracing the dip of your lower back, fingers trailing down until they settled just under the waistband of your pants. His other hand framed your jaw, guiding the pace like he was orchestrating it.

Hyunjin kissed with intention. Like he was trying to memorize the taste of you mid-whimper. Like he wanted to leave your lips bruised with meaning. Like this kiss wasn’t just leading somewhere, it was the somewhere.

You were panting into each other’s mouths now, your body flushed from contact and the unbearable ache between your legs.

He wasn’t pushing. Wasn’t hurrying.

But you were burning.

He pulled back, lips red and breathless, his forehead resting against yours, both of your chests rising and falling.

Still, the look in his eyes was sure. Steady.

His fingers moved with quiet purpose, not rushed, not hesitant. Just sure.

You barely noticed when he slid a hand beneath the back of your bra, until the clasp gave with a gentle click. He pulled the straps down your shoulders with care, and your breath hitched as the cool air kissed your newly bared skin.

Then came his fingers.

Just the tips at first, tracing the outer curve of your tits, feather-light. Barely a touch, but it was enough to make your entire body spark to life, a shiver running from the base of your spine to the tips of your toes.

“God,” you whispered.

He hummed, pleased, and pulled you closer, his chest against yours, skin to skin now. Warm. Alive. Then he bent his head and pressed a kiss right to the center of your chest. Not teasing. Just… honest. And it undid you more than anything else.

From there, he moved slowly. Traced his tongue from that point, that quiet, reverent place, down to one nipple, soft and aching, while his hand lifted to cradle the other. His thumb circled with maddening tenderness. Barely any pressure, just a slow, sweet drag that made your toes curl.

Hot. Wet. Careful.

He licked once, then again, with that same slow-burning rhythm he used to kiss you, like time didn’t exist, like he could stay right here forever if it meant watching you fall apart.

You gasped, your back arching slightly, offering more of yourself without thinking. And he moaned softly against your skin, lips closing around your nipple with gentle suction.

Both of his hands slid down, finding your hips with certainty, firm and grounding, like he needed to hold you steady while he lost himself in you. His mouth stayed on your tit, tongue dragging lazy, wet circles around your nipple before closing his lips around it again, sucking just enough to make you gasp. He was getting messier. Less careful. His breath catching now and then, his tongue more insistent, less polished.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, not pulling, just anchoring yourself as the world narrowed to the heat of his mouth and the steady grip of his hands.

Then he started to move you.

It was subtle at first, the slow, guiding shift of your hips in his lap. Just enough friction to make you both inhale sharply. Your thighs tensed on either side of him, instinctively following the rhythm he was setting with his hands. Slow. Rolling. Measured.

His thumbs pressed small circles into your hips, grounding you even as he made you move. You dragged against the rougher fabric of your jeans, and the sensation sparked low and hot in your belly. Each movement sent a pulse through you, a growing ache that made you whimper softly, hips already trying to chase more.

Still, he kept it slow.

His mouth left your tit with a soft, wet sound, lips brushing your neck, your collarbone, as his breath came harder now, warm and shaky against your skin. “Feel that?” he murmured, voice wrecked but steady.

You nodded against his temple, too breathless to speak, and he groaned, that sound, low and raw, blooming right against your skin like it had a weight to it. His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging in just a little, pulling you harder against him now. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath catch. Enough to make your thighs tremble from the pressure and the rhythm.

You could feel him through his jeans. Hard and hot, perfectly positioned beneath you. And when your body rolled again, his head dropped back.

“Fucking—” He bit it off, jaw clenching.

Your hands found his shoulders, gripping tight, grounding yourself as you caught your breath. You rolled your hips one more time, slower this time, torturous, and his whole body jerked beneath you.

“I need…” you panted, barely able to form the words, “I need these off.”

His eyes snapped open, black with want. And then he nodded, just once.

You moved off him enough to shimmy out of your jeans, breath catching when the cool air hit the soaked fabric of your panties. He watched you the whole time, licking his lips as he reached for his own fly, taking his time, deliberately slow. You could tell he was savoring this, watching you stripped bare, keeping just enough distance.

Once his jeans hit the floor, he stopped you with a look.

“Underwear stays,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “That okay?”

You nodded, and it didn’t matter that your body was screaming, aching, desperate for more, the way he looked at you made it all feel worth it. Made you want to be good. Made you want to wait.

He opened his arms and patted his lap, and when you sank down, the heat between your bodies somehow doubled. Still covered. Still unbearable.

And then, he stilled. Not completely. Just long enough to tip his forehead to yours, to hold you like stillness was part of the art.

“We're getting to the part the French call la petite mort.”

Your breath caught before you even understood it.

He held your face in both hands now, gaze locked with yours, as if speaking from a place beneath language.

“It means ‘the little death.’ When your body shudders and your soul forgets how to carry it. It’s what happens when something is so good, so true, you fall apart just to feel it.”

He kissed you again, but not like before. This one was slow, deep, final, like he had just told you the name of the thing he had been chasing through every brushstroke, every sketch, every breath you had ever given him.

“I want to watch that happen to you,” he whispered. “I want to feel it with you.”

Your hands trembled where they rested on his chest. From how seen you felt. How undone. How close you were to already coming apart.

“You’ve seen it, Hyun” you said softly, voice barely above the hush of breath between your mouths. “So many times.”

There was no teasing in your tone. No smugness. Just truth, and the gentle offer of clarity, like you were helping him untangle it all.

Hyunjin’s gaze didn’t waver. His fingers grazed your ribs, your waist, slow like a brushstroke.

“I know,” he murmured. “But this time, I want to hold it. Capture it.”

Your breath caught. Not just from his words, but from the way he said them, like it was sacred. Like you were. His touch never stopped moving, always reverent, gliding over your skin as if he were learning it all over again.

Then his hands flexed, grounding you again before forcing you down in one smooth drag. “Do that thing again,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

Your hips obeyed before your mind did. 

You moved, slow and grinding, your clit catching just right this time, and your whole body jolted, a soft, broken moan slipping out of you. He felt it, felt the way your muscles twitched and your legs stuttered and one of his hands left your hip, slid around to your ass, and pulled you down, rougher now.

“God, I can feel you soaking me,” he breathed, almost in awe, his voice shaking.

You whimpered, your forehead dropping to his. His other hand tangled in your hair, keeping you close, eyes locked on yours, his breath hot.

“Keep going,” he murmured, mouth brushing yours now, open and panting. “Just like that.”

Every grind against him had you gasping, panties sticking to your soaked folds, the friction sending shocks through your spine.

He was panting too, mouth parted, pupils blown wide. His hand on your ass squeezed tighter, guiding you, urging you on.

“Yeah,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Just like that, baby. Fuck—.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, but you did, locking with his as your body rocked over him, chasing the pressure, chasing the edge.

“Making yourself feel good, hmm?” His fingers in your hair pulled just enough, to snap your attention right back to the way he was watching you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. “My pretty girl.”

You whimpered again, it was embarrassing how close you were already. How badly you needed more. How badly you wanted him to say more things like that.

He felt you tremble, heard the way your breath hitched.

“Ohh, that’s it,” he whispered, lips brushing yours again. “You like that, don't you, baby?”

His hips bucked up suddenly, once, hard, and your whole body jolted again, mouth falling open with a silent cry.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

He leaned in again, breath ghosting over your skin, and his mouth found your neck, open and wet, kissing down slowly, hungrily, like he couldn’t help himself.

Your hips kept moving, dragging over him with that same aching pace, but your breath hitched when you felt his teeth graze the soft skin beneath your jaw. He sucked just enough to make you gasp and shiver.

“Can’t stop touching you,” he murmured against your throat.

You moaned, hands fisting his shoulders, and he moved lower, kissing down your collarbone, then further, until his mouth found your tit again.

This time, he didn’t go for your nipple.

He sucked right beside it, slowly, tongue dragging over the skin before his lips sealed around it. The pull was just strong enough to sting, sharp enough to make you jolt in his lap, thighs tensing as the friction lit you up from the inside out.

You whimpered, hips stuttering, and his hand on your ass held you down again, harder.

“Mm,” he hummed against your skin, still sucking. 

He pulled back after a moment, lips red and wet, and looked up at you with a dark, wild kind of satisfaction in his eyes.

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, fingers brushing the forming bruise.

Then, gently, his hands slid to your thighs. He squeezed once, grounding you, then murmured, “Come here.”

You barely had time to nod before he shifted beneath you, guiding you down with hands far too patient for the heat in his eyes. He laid you back on the couch, slow, careful. And once your spine hit the cushions, he knelt, settled between your legs like it was where he belonged.

You bit your lip, heart pounding as he hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and glanced up at you.

“Can I?” he asked, voice already wrecked.

You nodded, breathless.

He peeled them down so slowly it felt like he was memorizing the process, eyes locked on the way the fabric dragged over your skin. And when he finally dropped them to the floor, his hands returned to your thighs.

“Fuck, baby…”

He exhaled like he had been holding his breath for minutes.

His thumbs brushed your inner thighs, then slid higher, warm and careful, spreading you open with something close to reverence.

His gaze flicked up, catching yours.

“I need to watch you,” he said, low and firm, voice thick with want. “Need to see what you look like when you fall apart.”

And then he leaned in.

His tongue was soft at first, one long, slow stroke, like he was tasting you for the first time and needed to savor every second. You whimpered, hips jerking just a little, and he groaned into you, hands already sliding up to hold your thighs open.

He licked you like he was trying to learn you. Every flick and press of his tongue deliberate, slow at first, methodical, but so fucking warm. He moved with care, with hunger, with something deeper than just lust, like this was art, and you were the masterpiece.

Your hand found his hair and tugged. His tongue pressed harder.

“Oh my God—” you gasped, and he moaned into you, the vibration shooting through your body.

Every reaction you gave him, every stuttered breath, every twitch of your thighs, every arch of your back, he drank in. Like a man in love. His mouth was sinful, wet and firm, relentless and soft, licking into you like it was the only thing that mattered.

His tongue moved with purpose, long strokes up your folds, then a slow swirl at the top, flattening against your clit before pulling back down again. He dragged it lower, then dipped it inside you, slow and deep, tasting everything you gave him. When you clenched, he groaned, low and rough, like he felt it everywhere. And he did it again, deeper, firmer, tongue fucking you like he needed to learn the shape of you from the inside out.

Then he pulled back just to press his lips to your clit, full and wet, and sucked. The suction sent a sharp wave of pleasure through your belly, and you gasped, eyes flying open, only to meet his.

He was watching you. Still.

Eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t bear to look away.

His hands didn’t rest. One stayed on your thigh, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. The other slid up, spreading his fingers wide across your belly, grounding you, feeling every little shiver, every twitch under his palm as he devoured you.

And he didn’t just flick and tease. He worshipped.

He licked you slow, then fast. Let his tongue curl around your clit, flick up the underside, then roll in tight circles while his lips sealed around you again and sucked like he was trying to coax every ounce of pleasure straight out of your veins. Your legs trembled, and his grip on your thigh tightened, holding you still.

“Fuck—” you whimpered, voice breaking.

He moaned against you like it was the only answer he could give, desperate and aching, like he was the one being undone.

His eyes searched your face the whole time. Reading you. Memorizing you. Catching every change in your breath, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your hips. His tongue moved faster when you gasped, gentler when your body started to tense, relentless when your thighs squeezed around his shoulders. He wanted to see the exact moment you lost yourself. Wanted to witness it, feel it, own it.

And God, he was close to own it. So close.

Because his mouth never wavered, lips locked to your clit, tongue flicking hard and fast, slow and perfect, while his hand on your stomach pressed down just enough to keep you grounded, just enough to feel how close you were.

Then, his other hand slipped lower. The pads of his fingers brushed your soaked entrance, slick and fluttering from how badly you needed him. He let out a low groan at the feel of it, and without warning, sank two fingers into you, deep, unhurried, curling immediately against that perfect, tender spot inside.

His fingers moved with the same reverence as his mouth. Slow at first. Intentional. Then faster. Deeper. Crooking with purpose while his mouth kept working your clit, a perfect, merciless rhythm that made your body arch beneath him. Every drag of his fingers sent heat flooding through your core, a dizzying pressure that built fast and sharp.

And through it all, his eyes stayed locked on yours, dark, hungry, glowing with something unspoken and overwhelming.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your thigh, his lips brushing fire into your skin:

“Tell me,” he whispered, voice velvet and wrecked. “I want your words. I want to know exactly what it feels like.”

Your hips bucked. “It’s—Hyun, it’s… burning. Soft... but it's like fire. Like my skin’s too tight for everything inside me.”

He groaned, quiet and low, and let his mouth fall to you again. His tongue was a slow drag that made your breath stutter, your thighs clench.

“More,” he said, as if he couldn’t stand the silence. “Speak to me. Let me feel it through you.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the mess you were turning into but he didn’t want restraint. He wanted you to fall apart.

“I feel… dizzy,” you breathed. “Like I’m floating — but every time your fingers curl it pulls me back, or... pushes me further, I can't tell. It aches. But I need it. I want more. I want you everywhere.”

Hyunjin moaned into your skin. “And when I do this?”

His tongue circled your clit, gentle and reverent, and his fingers began to move faster, slow thrusts turning deep, precise, unrelenting.

“Oh f-fuck" you gasped, “My chest, it’s fluttering. Like I’m about to break open. I—I think I’m gonna—”

"Let me feel you fade, baby. Let the little death take you — let it be mine."

You could barely breathe, every flick of his tongue like fire, every curl of his fingers unraveling you. “F-Fuck, I—” you cried, eyes fluttering, “I feel it everywhere. In my legs, my chest—”. You tried to hold on, to keep talking, tried to warn him, but your words came out desperate and slurred. “I—my toes, f-feels like lightning—inside, I’m—”

Then it hit you.

You came with a cry, thighs locking around his head, cunt clenching around his fingers so hard he moaned into you. His tongue didn’t stop, kept flicking, kissing, loving, while your body shook through every wave, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes from how much it was. How deeply you felt it.

Your body twitched with the aftershocks, every nerve alight, every breath uneven. You barely realized he was whispering until his words brushed your skin.

“That’s it… Just like that. Let me feel it all,” he murmured, voice low, reverent. His fingers slowed but didn’t leave you, easing you through the tremors, grounding you with every soft press and curl. His mouth placed tender kisses along your inner thighs now, lips gentle where they had just been relentless.

You felt him breathe you in. Your legs loosened around his shoulders, but he didn’t move away. He looked up, his hair a mess, lips swollen, chin glistening. His eyes, god, his eyes, they were still on you. Like he had just witnessed something holy.

“Like lightning you said?” he asked softly, smiling, brushing a thumb over your hip, fingers slick and still reverent.

You nodded, barely able to speak, voice cracked. “Worse,” you whispered. “Better. It was… it was like everything shattered and melted at the same time.”

Hyunjin groaned, deep and aching, and leaned in to kiss the inside of your knee, your thigh, the curve of your hip. “I want to remember this forever,” he breathed. “How you sound. How you taste. How you fall apart.”

His hand trailed up your stomach, slow and warm, then settled over your heart, feeling it race beneath your skin.

You swallowed hard, overwhelmed and exposed in the softest way. “You make me feel… like I don’t have a body. Just… sensation. Just heat. Floating.”

Hyunjin lifted his head, eyes heavy but shining, and hovered above you, breath shallow, lips damp. For a moment, he just looked at you, his hand still over your chest like he was anchoring himself to your heartbeat.

He came up slowly, deliberately, and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy. It was molten, mouth open and sweet, tongue licking into you like he could still taste you on your lips and needed more. Like he wanted to sink into you and stay there.

You whimpered into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair, tugging gently. He pressed closer, chest to chest, the heat of his skin grounding and infinite.

When he pulled back, barely, his forehead rested against yours.

“I can still feel you,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Around my fingers. On my tongue. Everywhere.”

You let out a soft, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his. There was so much in them, reverence, desire, a kind of awe that made your throat tighten.

“I don’t think I’ll ever come back from this,” you whispered, your voice a hush against his lips.

Hyunjin smiled faintly, but it wasn’t playful, it was aching. “Don’t,” he said. “Stay here with me. In this.”

His hand moved again, from your chest to your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin as if memorizing its warmth. His other hand settled at your waist, grounding you, his touch so careful it made your heart clench.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured, kissing you again, slower this time, deeper. “The way you sound… the way you breathe when I touch you. You're so beautiful.”

You whimpered, unable to hold the words in. “My whole body feels melted. Like… I’m not even made of skin anymore. Just… nerves and fire.”

Hyunjin groaned again, a low sound pressed against your mouth, and he kissed you harder, like he couldn’t stand the space between you anymore. His fingers tightened at your waist, pulling you impossibly close.

“Say more,” he whispered against your lips. “Tell me everything you feel.”

You gasped softly, light-headed from him, from all of it. “It’s like you’re in my lungs. In my blood.” A pause, then, breathless and desperate: “Please don’t ever leave.”

Hyunjin kissed the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the hollow beneath your ear. “I won’t,” he promised. “I couldn’t if I tried.”

You tilted your head, letting his mouth linger against your neck, his breath warm and unsteady on your skin. Your fingers traced his body, feeling the subtle tremble beneath.

Then, softly, like a secret only he could hear, you asked, “Can I give you your little death?”

Hyunjin stilled.

Not in shock. Not in hesitation. But like his whole body paused to absorb it, to savor the weight of your words. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, and when they opened again, Hyunjin licked his lips. A slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue across his lower lip, as if tasting the moment, as if bracing himself for what was coming. His eyes didn’t leave yours. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

He just nodded.

Once. Silent. Sure.

And the way he was looking at you then, wide open and wrecked, like he'd hand you the sky if you asked, it was enough.

More than enough.

You shifted your weight slightly, guiding the both of you lower onto the couch. He followed without resistance, eyes dark and glassy, until his back met the cushions. You were the one who moved next, straddling him, chest brushing his, mouth still tangled in his kisses as your hands started to wander.

You kissed the corner of his lips. His jaw. The dip just beneath his ear that always made his breath catch. Then you trailed lower, down his throat, letting your lips drag across every inch of warm skin, tasting him.

He was breathing harder now, but staying still, letting you set the rhythm. One of his hands gripped the couch cushion; the other curled into your thigh.

You kissed down his chest, tongue flicking softly at the hollow between his collarbones. Kissed gently at the space just above his heart. When your teeth scraped him there, he shuddered, whispering your name.

Your kisses kept going. Down his ribs. His stomach.

When you looked up, his head was tilted back, lashes fluttering, lips parted. Beautiful and undone.

Then hooked your fingers into the waistband, breaking the silence. “Fall apart for me too,” you whispered.

And then you pulled his boxers down, slow, reverent, never breaking eye contact.

He lifted his hips for you just enough to help, but even that small motion sent a pulse of want through you. His trust. His quiet surrender.

You slid the fabric down, watching the way his cock twitched as it was freed, heavy and already flushed. Your breath caught, not because it was new, not because it was unfamiliar. But because it was him. Because it was Hyunjin, like this, sprawled across the couch, bare and waiting and looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that could touch him.

And you were.

Your hand wrapped around the base of him, slowly. The heat of him pulsed against your palm, heavy with need. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched you, eyes dark and molten, chest rising and falling with the weight of his breath.

Your gaze didn’t leave his.

Not when you leaned in and let your tongue drag along the underside, tasting the salt of his skin. Not when your lips parted to kiss the flushed head, so gently it made him shudder. Not even when you took him into your mouth, watching how his eyes fluttered shut for half a second, then opened again to find you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, barely audible, more instinct than thought.

You could see it there, in the way he looked at you: the ache, the reverence, the disbelief. Like he couldn’t believe it was you, like this, again. Like every time felt like the first time.

He reached for you, not to stop, not to guide, just to feel. His fingers found your hair, then your jaw, thumb tracing your cheekbone as you moved on him with slow, wet heat. He was panting now, soft sounds slipping past his parted lips, but still… no words. Just the way his thighs tensed beneath your touch, the way his hand trembled ever so slightly in your hair.

You wanted him to feel everything. Every swirl of your tongue, every shift in pressure, every pulse of your throat around him. You wanted to ruin him, slowly, completely, and still make him feel cherished.

Hyunjin’s head fell back for just a moment, throat exposed, a choked gasp slipping out “Oh, god” then he looked down at you again.

And fuck, he looked wrecked.

Eyes glassy, lips parted, flushed all the way to his chest. His fingers gripped the edge of the couch like he needed to anchor himself.

You pulled back slightly, just your lips wrapped around the head now, your tongue flicking against the slit with teasing strokes. Your hand kept moving, tight and slick, stroking him in perfect rhythm with your mouth.

Still, you didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to. Not with words. With the press of your lips to his skin. With the way you let your thumb glide down the vein that throbbed along his length, then back up again.

“Shit—” he whispered, hips twitching, eyes falling shut for a heartbeat before locking with yours again. “Please…”

You watched him come undone like that, eyes locked with yours, no words exchanged, just breath and touch and the kind of intimacy that didn’t need sound. Just the soft sounds of your mouth on him, the low curses he couldn’t hold back, the quiet please that escaped his lips.

And when he was close, when his hips lifted slightly and his hand gripped your jaw with trembling reverence, you didn’t look away.

You held his gaze.

And made him fall apart with your mouth.

He tried to hold back, even now, tried to anchor himself to the moment, to your eyes, to the way you looked up at him like he was the only thing you wanted to taste. But he was too far gone. Too lost in the rhythm of your mouth and the heat of your hand and the unbearable closeness of it all.

He came with a gasp and a desperate tremor of your name, hips lifting just enough to chase the feeling, but not enough to break the unspoken agreement between you. You stayed with him, let him ride it out, swallowed every broken sound and every last drop.

And when it was over, when his body stilled and his hand slipped from your hair to your cheek with a touch so gentle it made your chest ache, you rose slowly, settled beside him, one leg folded beneath you, one hand still resting lightly on his thigh. He turned to you like he didn’t know how to look anywhere else. His lips were swollen from biting down on them, his lashes damp.

Still, silence.

But not empty. Never that.

Because when he leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, when his thumb brushed over your bottom lip like he was memorizing it, like it meant everything, you knew.

Everything had been understood in the way you looked at each other.

There would be words later.

But for now... your souls were still floating, wrapped around each other, tangled in your little death.

—

+++ authors note: It took me MONTHS to finish writing this. Hyunjin was my first SKZ love and bias, so writing about him is a lot. It means a lot. They say your first bias is your personality, and honestly? I see that. Guess you could say I’m a bit of a poet too. Anyway. I really hope you enjoy this one, I poured so much of myself into it. 🩷

taglist @velvetmoonlght @anjian03 @nightmarenyxx @nebugalaxy @annyeongffs @hanjisunnnng @fawnoverdawn @headfirstfortoro <3 (comment or dm me to be added) special tag to @fangirljas929 bc i know you've been waiting for a hyunjin fic on this blog, so here it is!!!

[straykeedz-recs]

a series of phone calls with increasing time zones, proving that not even distance can break true love

idol!seungmin x reader, 5k words, fluff, long-distance au (seungmin on tour), angst, one argument, explicit themes but not graphic!! (implied masturbation, sexual intercourse) so mdni!

you both knew tour was going to be a challenge. the time zones, the silence between texts, being apart for too long.

but real love sticks. real love dials in the middle of the night with a sleepy voice and a hotel duvet pulled up to his chin. seungmin is in australia. one hour ahead of you.

“hey, baby” seungmin whispers, the sound barely above the static. “you still awake?”

you roll onto your back, staring at your ceiling like it might answer for you. “yeah.”

“did you cry?” he asks gently. not mocking but curious, like he’s asking about the weather.

“a little,” you admit, voice barely holding. “why are you so hard to sleep without?”

he exhale. “i don’t know,” he says, “maybe i cursed you.”

“maybe,” you whisper back.

there’s silence for a while. not awkward. just full.

then, “han jisung is asleep like two feet away, and if he hears me say sappy shit he’s gonna roast me into another dimension.”

you smile a little.

“but,” seungmin adds, quieter now, “i miss you too. like. a lot.”

you close your eyes. “don’t whisper like that. it makes it worse.”

“oh? does it?” he says as his voice dips lower. “what, like this?”

“seungmin.”

“i can picture your face right now” he says with a light chuckle.

you groan into your pillow. “i hate you.”

“no you don’t.”

“no,” you sigh. “i don’t.”

“i’ll call you again tomorrow night,” he murmurs, yawn crawling into his voice. “maybe i’ll read you the hotel shampoo ingredients like poetry.”

“that’s so romantic.”

"i know. i’m basically shakespeare,” he whispers, smug and sleepy.

you let out a soft laugh. “then what’s your sonnet about tonight, romeo?”

“hm.” there's a pause. you hear the rustle of sheets as he shifts, the soft creak of the bed frame. “ode to the cotton bed sheets that smell like lavender.”

you snort. “beautiful.”

“i try,” he says. “for you.”

your throat tightens at that. it’s so quiet on the other end, and you can almost picture him—eyes half-lidded, phone pressed to his cheek, hair messy from the long day, the glow of the hallway light slipping through the crack under the hotel door.

“you should sleep,” you say.

“you should stop sounding like you’re about to cry again,” he says.

you blink fast. “sorry.”

“don’t be,” he says. “i miss you too. more than i wanna say out loud because jisung has ears like a bat.”

“tell him i said hi.”

“i will. in the morning. right now, i’m all yours.”

you smile into your pillow. “even if you’re like... thousands of miles away?”

“distance isn’t real,” he says, like it’s obvious. “you’re in my phone, in my head, and in my heart.”

you murmur, fingers curling in the sheets. "i love you."

you can hear him smile. not the smug kind. the quiet one, the one he saves for you.

"i know," he whispers. "i know, baby. i love you too."

your eyes sting again.

“i wanna hear you say goodnight, before i go,” he says softly. “like i’m still right there.”

you tuck your face into your pillow, pretending he is.

you whisper, “goodnight, seungmin.”

he lets out a long exhale. “again.”

“goodnight, minnie.”

“one more time,” he murmurs, voice already halfway to sleep.

you smile, heart squeezing. “goodnight, love.”

“mmm,” he hums, already slipping under. “that one’s my favorite.”

the call doesn’t end. he never hangs up first. not when he’s on tour. not when you’re the only quiet thing that feels like home.

seungmin was always your plumber. doing it alone felt harder than it should’ve.

"okay, okay—stop. stop touching it. you're gonna break it."

"i have to touch it, kim seungmin.” you huff in frustration adding a mocking tone to his name.

“not when you’re doing it like that.”

“how would you know? you’re in a limousine.”

on the other end of the call, there’s a soft rustling of leather seats, then a distant snort of laughter—probably changbin. then hyunjin’s unmistakable voice in the background.

you roll your eyes and crouch down by the sink again. “just walk me through it.”

you hear him sigh dramatically. “you're gonna need both of your hands. you’re holding the flashlight with your mouth, right?”

“yeah.” you say, slightly muffled

“cute,” he says.

you smile.

“okay, now reach in with your left hand, gently, and find the little hex socket.”

“the what?”

“the six-sided bolt, babe.”

you find it. “got it.”

“good. now take the wrench, the L-shaped one. the baby wrench.”

you laugh around the flashlight. “you mean the allen key?”

“i said what i said.”

you fit it into place, and it clicks. "what now?"

“turn it slowly. coax it back to life.”

“you’re stupid.”

“you’re smiling.”

he’s right. you are.

the background laughter comes again, through your phone. you take the flashlight out of your mouth and furrow your eyebrows, now glaring at the phone.

seungmin huffs. “ignore them. they’re just mad no one calls them to fix things with love and precision.”

“why love?”

“you think i’d be guiding you through garbage disposal in a limousine if i wasn’t in love with you?”

you pause. heart full. “i love you too, minnie.”

“i know,” he says. “now finish the job, so you can text me a picture when it works and i can brag to those idiots about how you’re the best mechanic alive.”

“deal,” you grin.

"and hey?"

"yeah?"

“don’t go getting too good at this independent thing without me, alright? you’ll end up not needing me anymore.”

you roll your eyes fondly. “bye, seungmin.”

“bye, love.”

your phone buzzes unexpectedly—no text, no facetime request, just a straight-up call. that never happens unless something’s wrong.

“hello?”

you hear a shaky inhale on the other end of the line. not completely panicked, but definitely not seungmin’s usual hello either.

“minnie?” you say, sitting up straighter. “everything okay?”

he exhales again, this time more controlled, like he’s trying to reset himself mid-breath. “yeah, sorry, i just—sorry, this is gonna sound really dumb.”

“are you okay?” you ask again, softer this time.

“yeah. yeah, i just—” he pauses, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “we were walking into this venue, right? and i wasn’t thinking, just messing around with jeongin, and suddenly…”

he trails off.

“suddenly?” you prompt.

“i caught this scent. like perfume. i don’t know who it was, just someone walking by, but it,” he lets out a shaky breath. “it smelled so much like you.”

your heart clenches. “me?”

“yeah,” he says, voice low, almost like he’s embarrassed. “and i just, i didn't know i could recognize it so easily, y’know? i never paid attention to that stuff before. but it hit me so fast. like my brain was like, oh, she’s here, and i looked around like an idiot.”

you’re quiet, lips curling into something helpless and warm. “you’re so cute.”

“shut up,” he mutters, and it sounds half-defensive, half-melting. “i was just—i don’t know, kind of spiraling.”

“i should’ve given you the bottle before you left,” you murmur. “you could’ve sprayed it on your pillow or something. maybe your hoodie. made it easier.”

“okay well, actually,” he says, suddenly brisk. “i’m in a fragrance store right now.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “what?”

“i literally walked away from the guys and came in here. i don’t even know what i’m doing.”

you’re smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. “so you called me to ask what perfume i use?”

“maybe,” he says quietly. “maybe i just wanted to hear your voice while i looked for you in a bottle.”

you bury your face in your hand. “seungmin.”

“don’t make it a thing,” he grumbles, but his voice is soft again. “just tell me what it is. i wanna spray it on my wrist or my hoodie or something, and maybe then i won’t look around every time i smell it.”

you tell him, and he repeats it back softly, twice—like he’s memorizing it.

“okay,” he says, “i found it.”

you smile into the phone. “go on then, give it a try. you gotta confirm it’s really me.”

there’s a little silence. the soft pop of the sample nozzle. then—

he gets quiet.

too quiet.

you wait, lips parted, holding your breath like the silence might break if you exhale too hard.

“minnie?” you say gently.

on the other end of the line, there’s a small rustle—like he’s pulling the test strip closer—and then a faint breath, nearly soundless.

“...yeah,” he says, but it’s barely there. hushed. careful.

“is it the right one?” you ask, smiling even though you can’t see him.

another pause.

“it feels like you’re right here.”

you chest tightens.

another rustle—probably him turning away from the counter, footsteps echoing as he walks deeper into the store.

“i need to hang up.”

you blink. “wait, what? why—”

“just—thank you,” he says, quickly, like it hurts. “seriously. thank you.”

“min—”

but the line clicks before you can finish.

your phone rings just as you're brushing your teeth, screen lighting up with minnie calling. it’s early—too early for your brain to do much thinking—but your heart wakes up faster than the rest of you.

you swipe the call and press it to your ear, foam still in your mouth.

“hi, seungmin,” you mumble around your toothbrush, voice muffled and lazy.

he doesn't answer right away. just… breathes.

low. slow. deliberate.

you pause mid-brush. “...minnie?”

“baby,” he says, and something about his voice makes your hand freeze midair. deeper than usual. lower. like he’s under the covers, talking into the pillow.

“what time is it over there?”

“past midnight.”

“shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

a quiet chuckle. “couldn’t. been thinking about you.”

your cheeks warm instantly as you flicked the light switch and made your way to your bedroom.

“earlier today, your scent,” he adds, voice dragging a little now, like he’s letting each word settle before moving on. “you really messed me up with that.”

you sit down on the edge of your bed, heart pounding. “what are you doing?”

he inhales, slow—like he’s giving you a hint without actually saying anything.

“mm… i'm in bed,” he says, voice velvety. “lights are off. window’s open a little.”

you smile, because he’s playing. “and?”

he’s silent for a beat. then—softly, “jisung’s not here.” his designated hotel roommate.

you lean back into your pillow, a little breath catching in your throat. “where is he?”

“went to see chan. they’re doing a livestream in his room.” a pause. “won’t be back for a while.”

you don’t say anything—can’t, really—but the line’s quiet in that loaded kind of way. your breath hitches just enough.

he hears it.

“you gonna keep pretending you don’t know what i’m doing?” he says, voice dipping into something firmer, smoother. “or are you gonna be good and ask me what i want you to do?”

your legs press together on instinct, pulse suddenly very loud in your ears.

“we haven’t had a call like this yet,” you whisper, your voice barely holding steady.

“i know, baby. for now just stay with me.”

distance could do terrible things to people who loved each other. it stretched silence into assumptions, turned waiting into resentment, made every little misstep feel like betrayal.

and tonight, it was doing its worst.

“i just don’t get why you didn’t say anything,” you snap, hands gripping the steering wheel. “you waited until now to bring this up?”

“because i knew you’d react like this,” seungmin fires back, voice tight, like he’s trying not to be overheard.

“like what? like i have a problem with you being honest?”

“no,” he says, “like you twist it into something about you. like you always do.”

“wow.” you pause. blink. “don't have soundcheck right now?”

“yes.”

“then why the hell did you call me now if you don’t even have time to talk about this properly?”

“because it’s been eating me alive and i didn’t want to go on stage feeling like this, okay?” his voice wavers. not loud. just frayed.

you exhale, eyes stinging. “i’m not your emotional dumping ground.”

you suck in a shaky breath, throat tight.

“and you could’ve talked about this without raising your voice at me,” you say, quieter now.

there’s silence on the line.

you hear him shift, maybe press his palm over the phone. muffled voices in the background—staff calling him.

“anyway,” you continue, forcing the tremble out of your voice. “i don’t want to bring you down before your show.”

he’s still silent.

“i’m sorry, seungmin. i really am.” your voice softens further. “i love you. are we good?”

a beat. then—

“yeah, i'm sorry too. we’re good.”

your heart clenches.

you wait.

just for a second.

just long enough to hope he says it back.

but he doesn’t.

the line goes dead.

you sit there, phone still pressed to your ear, staring at nothing.

it’s been hours. half a day, maybe more.

you haven’t heard from him since.

you’re at your desk, legs curled under your chair, coffee cold, unread emails glowing in tabs you haven’t touched.

your phone buzzes.

seungmin: just got back. wanna call?

you stare at the message, thumb hovering.

you: it’s late over there

a few seconds later:

seungmin: it’s alright. are you busy?

you glance around your office—empty, quiet, dim with the afternoon light pooling through the blinds. the answer’s obvious.

you: no.

the typing bubble appears. disappears. then your screen lights up.

incoming call. your heart skips.

you hesitate just a moment but you answer anyway.

“hey,” he says softly, voice scratchy, tired.

you don’t say anything right away.

he waits.

“you should be asleep,” you murmur.

he chuckles faintly. “couldn’t. been thinking about you.”

you exhale, shoulders dropping just a little. “me too.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you rest your chin on your hand, eyes tracing the little scratches on your desk, voice still quiet. “how was the concert?”

he breathes out a small laugh. “we did well. it was great.”

“were you tired during the dance sets?” you ask gently, genuinely. “you didn’t sound winded, but i know you’ve been pushing your knee too hard.”

there’s a pause.

he says, voice low with something like awe. “yeah, it was sore. but i iced it after. chan made me”

you laugh.

then, soft again, he says, “i’m sorry.”

you close your eyes. “me too.”

and it’s not everything, not the whole conversation. but it’s enough for now.

“i love you,” you whisper, trying again.

you can hear him smiling, even through the static.

“i love you too,” he says. “so much.”

you smile back, cheeks warm and aching in the best way.

but then—softly, almost before you mean to say it.

“i don’t wanna get used to this.”

there’s a pause. the kind that makes your throat tighten.

“used to what?” he asks gently.

you swallow. “being apart from you.”

he breathes in through his nose. slowly. “you think that’s happening?”

you shrug, even though he can’t see you. “some days it’s easier. and i hate that. like… am i supposed to be okay with not hearing your voice until midnight? with seeing you through screens more than in person?”

he doesn’t answer right away. just listens.

so you go on, voice smaller now. “are we starting to miss each other less?”

and then he says it, soft but sure.

“no.”

“i’m scared i’m gonna,” you admit, a little too quietly.

he exhales. “you won’t.”

“how do you know?”

“because i’m still here,” he says. “and every time you call, every time you say my name, it still feels like the first time. i’m never gonna be something you forget how to want.”

you blink fast, throat thick.

“even if it gets easier,” he adds, “it doesn’t mean it means less. it just means we’re learning how to carry it better.”

you nod, tears prickling—but this time, they feel okay.

safe.

like love you can live inside of.

“you’re still the first thing i think about,” you whisper.

“good,” he murmurs. “same.”

you pick up and immediately the screen is sideways, showing a very blurry jisung laughing so hard he’s bent over the hotel bed.

"hellooooo," jisung yells directly into the phone.

you blink. "uh… hi?"

the screen rights itself. seungmin appears—barefaced, hair messy, eyes way too shiny to be sober. he’s lying on his stomach, chin squished into a pillow, voice soft and dangerously sweet.

“hi, baby,” he says, all low and slurred and dangerous.

“oh no,” you whisper. “how drunk are you two?”

“not drunk,” he insists.

“he’s drunk,” jisung confirms helpfully, popping into frame again and waving.

“shut up,” seungmin mumbles, blindly swatting at him.

you snort. “what’s happening over there?”

“he has something to tell you,” jisung says smugly.

seungmin groans, burying half his face in the blanket. “jisung…”

“tell her what you told me,” jisung insists.

“han jisung, shut your entire mouth.”

“too late. he said—” jisung gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “‘if she were here right now I’d let her ruin my life.’”

a beat of silence.

then seungmin smacks him off camera with a pillow.

seungmin flips back into frame, completely disheveled and pouty. “seriously, come over sweetpea.”

“i’m in a different country.”

“weak excuse,” he grumbles, already rolling over onto his side like the call’s exhausting him.

jisung peeks in again, holding up a half-eaten macaron. “if you were here, we’d give you one of these.”

you laugh, cheeks sore from smiling.

“save some for me then,” you say, voice soft but playful.

seungmin doesn’t hear it—he’s already buried back into the pillow, mumbling something incoherent about what the bed smells like.

but jisung hears it.

he freezes, mid-bite, eyes snapping to the screen.

you meet his gaze.

he widens his eyes, mouthing: really?

you bite back a smile and give the tiniest, most deliberate nod.

his entire face lights up, but then he clamps his mouth shut, physically slaps a hand over it, and glances at Seungmin, who’s currently face down and humming the mario kart theme into the blanket.

“oh my god,” Jisung mouths again, silently losing it.

you put a finger to your lips, shhh.

he nods rapidly, then mimes zipping his lips and throwing the key.

seungmin groans. “why is it so quiet now? what—are you guys passing notes like it’s high school?”

“no,” jisung says, biting into his macaron and struggling not to beam.

seungmin rolls over again, squinting. “weirdos.”

you just smile.

“see you soon,” you whisper, quiet enough that only jisung catches it.

and he grins like he’s holding the world’s best secret. because he is.

the screen lights up with a familiar facetime ring.

you answer, already smiling. “hi.”

seungmin's face appears—dim lighting, hoodie up, hair messy like he’s been running his hands through it all night. he’s lying on his side in bed, camera slightly tilted. there’s a stillness to him tonight. the kind that feels heavier than silence.

“hey,” he says, voice low. a little tired. a little distant.

you tuck your legs underneath you on the couch. “how long’s it been now?”

he doesn’t even pause to think. “five months.”

you nod. “we’re halfway.”

“only halfway.”

your breath catches at that. you weren’t expecting him to say it like that—like it’s a sentence.

you sigh, fingers tightening around your phone. “yeah.”

for a moment, neither of you say anything.

“i know you’re tired,” you say gently.

“i’m fine,” he replies, but there’s no weight behind it. like he’s used to pretending. “it just… feels really far tonight.”

you nod slowly, throat tight. “i know. it feels far for me too.”

he looks at you for a second longer—eyes a little glassy, lips parted like he’s about to say something, then thinks better of it.

but he does.

“i miss you, sweetheart.”

your breath catches in your chest.

he rarely calls you that. only when he means it. when he’s feeling something he doesn’t know how to explain in full sentences.

you swallow hard. “soon.”

he nods, slow. “yeah. soon.”

he has no idea just how soon.

no idea that your suitcase is already packed. that your flight lands tomorrow morning. that the hotel front desk already has your name and a keycard.

and as he murmurs, “i wish i could hold your hand right now,”

you smile.

“you will,” you say softly.

you keep replaying it in your head—seungmin’s face when he saw you in the crowd. that second of shock, then the dumbest grin as he stumbled over a lyric and tried to play it off like he meant to do that. you’d almost cried. almost.

and now it’s past midnight, the concert hours behind you, and you know he’s taken his time wiping off the sweat and glitter of it all, probably still tangled in post-show chaos and crew goodbyes.

which is why, when you hear the knock at your hotel room door, your heart does that fluttery thing. you don’t even hesitate—you’re off the bed in seconds, bare feet padding across the floor, and you already know who it is before you check the peephole.

you open the door.

and there he is.

hair slightly damp, hoodie pulled low over his forehead, backpack slung over one shoulder. tired eyes—but shining. always shining when they’re on you.

most of his face is hidden in the shadows of the hood, just the curve of his cheekbone catching the hallway light. you can’t really see him, not fully. but you’d know that silhouette anywhere.

you don’t even get a word out. he drops his bag, wraps his arms around you, and pulls you into him like you’re the only thing holding him up. you let out a small squeal, laughing, your arms looping around his neck just as he lifts you straight off the ground.

“seungmin!” you giggle as he spins you in a circle, your feet kicking in the air.

“i missed you,” he breathes into your shoulder before setting you down slowly. “oh, i missed you so bad.”

once your feet touch the carpet, you're grabbing the front of his hoodie and tugging him inside. the door swings shut behind him with a soft click, and before he can blink, you’re kissing him.

he melts immediately, like he’s been waiting all night for this because he has. his hands slide back around your waist, pulling you in tighter and you giggle into it—completely overwhelmed and completely in love.

he stumbles forward a little, still kissing you, until your back hits the wall with a muted thud. you gasp softly into his mouth, grinning now as he presses into you, and he pulls back just enough to look at you, dazed.

“what…” he breathes, his lips brushing yours, “…what are you doing here?”

you blink at him, still catching your breath, still grinning. “i wanted to come surprise you.”

he just stares at you for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re real. then he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “you’re a crazy, crazy girl, you know right?”

“you think i’d let you go out of the country for ten months and not visit you?” you say, voice light. “you really thought i could go that long without seeing your dumb face?”

he doesn’t answer. just lets out this soft, wrecked little sound—half-laugh, half-sigh—as he wraps his arms around you again, tighter this time. he buries his face into your hoodie, right against your collarbone. you hug him back instantly, arms wrapping under his and holding him close. he clings. like he’s cold and you’re the only source of warmth he’ll ever need.

“come on,” you murmur, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head gently. “let me see you, now.”

he shakes his head against you, just the tiniest movement. doesn’t loosen his grip. doesn’t lift his head.

“seungmin,” you whisper again, a little firmer, leaning back slightly so you can reach up and tug his hood down.

the fabric falls away. his hair’s tousled, still a little damp from a shower or maybe the rain outside, and his face is hidden—tilted down, eyes trained on the floor. he still hasn’t looked at you properly.

all he does is lift his hand up to his face. wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. you catch the tremble in his fingers.

a sniffle.

“oh, minnie…” you whisper, your heart cracking wide open.

despite the way he towers over you, he looks smaller, his head bowed low like he’s trying to disappear into himself.

you coo softly, barely a sound.

that does it.

he lets out this weak, shaky sigh like he’s been holding it in since the moment he saw you at the concert, maybe longer—and your chest seizes with it. he turns his face just slightly, burying it into your shoulder again, arms wrapping tight around your waist like he's scared you'll vanish if he lets go.

your hands are already moving—one smoothing over his back, the other stroking his hair—your body swaying with his as he starts to let out shaky, quiet gasps.

he sniffles again, shoulders still trembling, but when he finally speaks, it’s muffled into your hoodie. “the members were betting on me. on whether or not i’d cry when i saw you.”

you let out a little laugh and reach up to cup his cheeks, gently swiping away the fresh tears still clinging to his lashes. “and who said you wouldn’t cry?”

he hesitates. “me.”

you laugh again—soft and a little breathless—as your thumbs brush gently under his eyes. “of course you did,” you murmur, fingers sliding up to smooth through his damp hair.

he lets out a weak chuckle, eyes fluttering closed at your touch. he leans into your hand for a second before straightening up a bit, pulling his shoulders back like he’s trying to regain a sliver of composure.

even now, red-eyed and sniffling, there’s still something solid about him. the way he holds you, the way he stands just a bit in front of you like he’d protect you from the world if it even looked at you wrong.

seungmin's lips part, like he wants to say something but the words won’t come. instead, he just stares at you, eyes darting across your face like he’s trying to take in every inch of you he’s missed. like he’s scared you’ll be gone if he blinks too long.

“you have no idea how much i needed this,” he whispers.

you step closer, hands finding his again. “that's why i'm here.”

he shakes his head, fingers tightening around yours. “no, like—” he exhales hard, eyes shining as he glances down at your joined hands. “you don’t get it. every night, i’d come back and just... lie on the hotel bed and pretend you were next to me. i missed everything. your voice, your stupid little yawns, the way you poke me when i zone out.”

you let out a laugh, watery and soft. “i do not poke you.”

“you do,” he insists, eyes wide like it’s the most important fact in the world. “you go like this—” he imitates a jab to your side, making you laugh and swat his arm. he chuckles, bright and breathless, and then quiets.

your heart flutters and you don’t even try to hide how it shows on your face. you tug his hand and backpedal toward the bed, flopping onto it with a gentle bounce. propped up on your elbows, you tilt your head at him. “c’mere.”

seungmin shrugs off his backpack, then tugs his hoodie off by the back—grabbing it near the collar and pulling it over in one smooth, practiced motion. he holds it in front of him for a second, then slips out of the sleeves with the opposite hand.

his t-shirt clings in places and hangs loose in others, fabric soft and worn and framing the lean lines of his torso. your eyes fall on the way it shifts with every movement—subtle dips of collarbone, the slight curve of his waist.

your fingers curl slightly in the blanket beneath you as he steps closer, and your breath hitches. you missed him. not just his face or his voice, but all of him—how he moves, how he fills the space around you like no one else can.

seungmin gets onto the bed. the second he's close enough, your fingertips graze his forearm, his side, like you’re checking if he’s really here.

then he leans in, arms bracketing either side of your body, and your whole world narrows to just the space between you, until finally his lips brush against yours.

it’s soft. barely even a kiss at first, more like the ghost of one, like he’s still afraid he’ll break the moment if he moves too fast. but you kiss him back, and then he presses in more fully. it's full of all the things you’ve both been trying not to say out loud.

he kisses you again, and again, each one a little deeper than the last—like he’s making up for every single day you were apart. one hand comes up to cradle your jaw, his thumb sweeping tender over your cheek.

“i love you so much,” he whispers, like it’s a confession. like it still stuns him just how badly he felt it.

you nod, blinking back the sudden sting behind your eyes. “i love you too.”

he exhales shakily, and then he kisses you once more—slow, full of longing—and you swear you feel the world right itself a little, just because he’s here.

he pulls away, just slightly, and rests his forehead against yours. your noses bump, and he closes his eyes, smiling so softly it barely lifts the corners of his mouth. “i was scared you’d forget about me.”

you shake your head, hand settling over his heart. “you’re impossible to forget. trust me, i tried.”

“me too,” he breathes. “it was unbearable sometimes.”

you tilt your chin up and kiss the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, slow and lingering. his skin is warm under your lips, and you feel him exhale shakily, his body softening against yours like your touch is the thing holding him together.

his hands wander a little now, like he can’t help it—tracing slow lines along your back, the dip of your waist, smoothing down your arm and back up again. his hand slips beneath the shirt under your hoodie, smoothing over bare skin, and your breath catches.

you let him pull the layers of fabric over your head. let him take his time. he kisses down your neck, your chest, every press of his lips asking, are you sure?

and every answer you give is yes.

you wake up slowly, feeling hazy. the curtains are still drawn, soft light peeking through just enough to glow against the sheets.

and then you feel his hand resting on your waist. his thumb tracing little circles on your skin, like he never stopped touching you even in his sleep.

you blink your eyes open.

he’s already awake, head propped on one arm, looking at you with the calmest expression you’ve ever seen on him. the kind that makes your heart ache just a little because you know how much he doesn’t show easily.

“you’re staring,” you murmur, voice rough from sleep.

“you’re pretty when you’re confused and squinty,” he says, lips curving just barely.

you smile, still half-asleep, but it turns real fast when he leans in and kisses you, his fingers brushing your cheek like he’s still making sure you’re real.

“good morning,” you whisper.

“technically almost noon,” he teases. “but yeah. it’s good now.”

he pulls back, just enough to give you room as you sit up, blanket tugged up to cover your chest. your fingers instinctively rake through your tangled hair, and he watches you with a little too much amusement.

then he shifts, reaching over the side of the bed to dig through his bag.

“i have something for you,” he says casually.

and then he turns back around—with a box of macarons in his hand.

you gasp, grinning instantly. “you didn’t.”

he takes one out, and holds it to your lips.

“if you were here,” he says, softly now, “you’d be eating one of these. and you are. so.”

you roll your eyes, but open your mouth anyway, taking a bite.

“sweet enough?” he murmurs.

you swallow, cheeks warm. “almost.”

he leans in again, brushing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“now?” he asks.

“perfect,” you whisper.

and he smiles like he never wants to be anywhere else ever again.

[straykeedz-recs]

whimsical

summary: Felix grants you all your whims, even the “rarest” ones.

𐙚 pairing: lee felix x fem reader

⊹♡ genre: smut, pwp ⊹♡ warnings: light sub!felix, bestfriend!felix, handjob, oral sex, cum eating, cumplay, pet names, mention of pubes idgaf—so yummy it’s felix, unprotected sex, creampie ⊹♡ word count: 3.7k

masterlist ⭒ taglist

wen’s note: i warned you i needed felix so bad😭 bf brainrot!! it was time to post it, i had this since saturday lol / also naming a fic is lwk hard haha

One of your biggest desires right now is to fuck your best friend. That’s it. You said it—not to him directly—, but you thought about it.

You don’t know what’s going on, but it’s just a drastic change. You’ve always liked your best friend Felix a lot, but for some reason, you’ve been liking him a little more lately.

And you’ve always been direct, but when it comes to your feelings for him, you don’t know exactly how to tell him.

So you start teasing him, like that time you asked for ice cream. All you have to do is say you feel like some cookies and cream, and he immediately calls you excitedly, saying he’d love to take you to his favorite ice cream shop. But no, that time you didn’t feel like going out, you wanted ice cream with him, in your apartment. Felix quickly adapts to your every need and, in return, comes to your apartment and waits a few minutes for your favorite ice cream to arrive at your door, which he ordered for you.

You’re a bit capricious, you admit, so you don’t want to be ungrateful... so lately you’ve had this particular idea in your mind to thank him... a few kisses, caresses, nothing harmful. You’ve been dying to taste Felix for a long time. He is... simply incredible and breathtaking.

That day remains glorious. It was the first time you gave him a sign.

As you eat your ice cream, standing up, walking towards the sofa, you tease him by saying:

“Mmm, those shorts are a little big for you, don’t you think?” you say, amused, taking a lick of your ice cream and looking him straight in the eyes.

Felix has noticed the different way you look at him for some time now and must admit that it makes him nervous, but he likes it. Even so, he feels that you are not at all the sweet best friend he has known for so long.

And then, a subtle movement for you, but something that makes him uneasy and almost tremble. After your comment, your gaze slowly travels until it falls completely on his belt and his very exclusive masculinity, and you playfully lift his shirt a little, revealing a bit of his happy trial, and pull on his belt buckle, just playing and reaffirming your comment a little.

Felix remains motionless, not at all expecting your knuckles to caress his skin and fine hair, right near a very strategic part for him, down his navel, with such an intense gaze.

“Mmm, yes, ah—well, you know I’m thin,” he begins to stammer.

You love putting him like that. He always seems so confident, showing you his abs, telling you if a photo is good enough to post on his Instagram, and now... the slightest touch makes him like this.

It’s no surprise that you’re starting to like Felix; it was only a matter of time. He’s extremely handsome, cute, attentive, and gives you absolutely everything, and that means everything. He spoils you, and you easily treat each other like a couple.

But you’re tired of waiting too long. If you wanted it, you got it fast; it’s the only way Felix taught you. Your only man in your life right now.

So everything happens on an innocent weekend, your weekend when you get together to watch movies and dress up according to the theme of what you’re going to watch, a silly and sweet tradition that kills you with cuteness every time Felix, with his very cute big eyes and angelic face, tries hard to keep doing it with you.

He sends you a message.

Felix🩵 Nemo tonight, right? 🫠 I don't have anything orange, but I wore something nice Hey, don't you think it's weird that we're going to eat sushi while watching Nemo? HAHAH

You feel like he’s not picking up on your signals. You sigh and know that what comes next will be either a joke or something in very poor taste, awkward or satisfying.

You answer him.

hahaha, yess NEMO 2NIGHT i want new lipsticks:((

He replies immediately.

Felix🩵 I'm on my way, almost there Lipsticks? Which ones? I'll get them Give me your sephora cart, I'll buy it

He’s unbelievable; you adore him. Only Felix would buy you all the makeup you could ever dream of and more. You smile mischievously. God, you can’t believe what you are about to say to your poor best friend.

i just idk what shades to pick

Felix🩵 Mmm idk, you like, pink? Everything looks good on you 🤍

i need the perfect shade, lix plss help me

Felix🩵 Ok y/n, show me

You are already typing fast, guilty, so you don’t regret sending it.

And then, finally, Felix knocks on your door even though he knows the passcode to your place, but always waits for you to open the door.

But you had already sent the text.

haha ok nice i think the perfect shade is wait, what’s your tip color?

Your heart races when you realize he’s here. There are so many emotions. You’re embarrassed, proud, you don’t really know. You jump out of bed as soon as you hear him knocking on your door, not even checking to see if he saw the message.

But he did. And his eyes open in amazement. His tip color? Like, his cock tip color? What the fuck?

Felix is still in shock, blushing, and doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening when you’ve already opened the door, smiling broadly, looking radiant as if you hadn’t said anything.

Then he thinks it’s just a joke and that he should let it slide, but he can’t. He wants so badly to know if you liked him too, as much as he likes you.

“Hey, come in,” you said happily, pretending not to suffer from an intense heartbeat. “I’m the girl with the braces... and you...?”

He forgets about everything as soon as he sees you, smiling at you warmly and tenderly.

“Cute pigtails,” he touches one briefly, but remembers why he’s a little agitated when he notices your intense gaze, “ Ahm, I’m the... mmm, the old black and white fish” he starts to stutter, clearly nervous suddenly.

He is wearing his black and white adidas jacket, unzipped, a white sleeveless shirt underneath, and oversized cargo shorts. He looks really cute.

“Ohh, I see. Well, it’s been a while since I watched Nemo.”

And so, you start watching the movie, you lean your body against his, and like always, you’re touchy with him, you can’t help it, his bleached blonde hair is soft, smells good, but its texture is so addictive somehow to tangle your fingers in, his cheeks are soft, his whole body warm; but, you could see and feel him a little tense, different. He returns your touchy affection very slightly, finely, when he is always needy for your caresses and explores your body—in the most innocent spots of you. You know him.

The first 45 minutes of the movie pass and Felix tells you he’s going to get a bottle of water, so you pause the video.

“Do you want anything?” he asks, getting up from the couch.

You shake your head. Felix feels relieved because he thinks that if he spends more time with you, something could happen between you at any moment. All you had to do was pay attention to the way you touch him, not just in a friendly way, your hands on him are with a purpose disguised as innocence. He drinks his water, quenching his sudden thirst for you, just barely, you, his best friend, his... dream woman. He loves you and needs you too much... but how can he express it? If it’s always just you and him, best friends forever.

You wait for him, in a very short time, yet you find yourself checking your cell phone a little and notice that he did indeed see the message. You wonder if he read it... and you also wonder if that’s why he’s been acting strange.

You know Felix, you know it’s not awkwardness, if anything, something was up. His expression is serious, and he seems focused on everything but the movie.

You bite your lip, thinking that maybe tonight will be more special than it seems. Will you take advantage of the situation to hook up with your sweet friend Felix? It would be a dream come true. Your latest whim coming true, like all the others.

Felix returns, trying to act nonchalant, but as soon as he reads your body language of wanting to get dangerously close to him, he understands everything.

You can’t wait any longer. You’ll be direct. If he wants it, he’ll take it now, you’ll enjoy it uncontrollably, and if not, well, you’ve never thought about no. Felix always says yes to you.

He clears his throat.

“Um, should we watch a romcom after this?” he asks nervously.

“Sure,” you reply, standing up from your seat and facing him. It’s time to confront him. “So... Felix Lee, did you read my text?”

“Y-your text?” He avoids looking you in the eye, but glances at you from time to time.

You nod, challenging him and seductively running your tongue along the inside of your cheek, a small gesture that drives him crazy.

“Uh-huh. Yes. About the lipsticks, I really need your help.”

“Oh! That! Of course, which ones do you want to buy? You know you have my card, sweetheart.”

“I know. Thanks, Lix. But you know that’s not the problem.” You start playing with the zipper on his jacket, and you’re so close to him that you notice every angle of his attractive, nervous face, even his body tensing up. “I really want the perfect color. I still think that...” You watch your fingers play with his jacket and then slowly and seductively look up to make eye contact and say, “Your tip’s color is the perfect shade for my lips.”

You smile mischievously and notice how his Adam’s apple moves, showing his reaction and excitement. Okay, you have to admit it sounded a little strange... but you weren't joking when it came to Felix. Your intentions are serious and clear. You want to give it a try.

“Oh! That text... that was” he chuckled nervously, “that was funny.”

He tries to play it cool. He’s so anxious and agitated that he’s afraid it will show.

And it does show. He’s needy for you.

“I wasn’t joking, Felix,” your gaze falls on him, heavy and intense.

You want to make him give in so sweetly.

“Oh, you weren’t?”

“So, will you help me?” you interrupt him.

“Excuse me?”

“Will you help me with that? Will you show me?”

Felix stammers, unsure of what to say. But he could never say no to you, especially about something he's wanted for so long. It’s clear that the tension is building and things are escalating between you.

“Wait. So, are you for real?”

“I really mean it, Lix,” you whisper close to his lips.

You tease him by moving closer and brushing against his body.

“So... will you let me see it now?” you repeat, closer to his lips.

Felix tenses up even more. He wants to say yes, to move, but he’s under so much pressure, mesmerized and so turned on. You take the water bottle he was clutching so tightly and place it on your coffee table, turning back to him, caressing the smooth skin of his arms, your fingertips delighting in his gently protruding veins.

Felix sighs and nods softly, his Adam’s apple moving once again, his lips parting, ready to speak, not quite sure what to say; but you think that the idea of seeing his cock for the first time, just like that, is a little rushed. Yes, you want to fuck him, you’re so horny that you need him and his hard cock right now, and the tension between you wasn’t helping. But you also adore him madly, so it impulsively occurred to you that you should start slowly, taste his lips first. You always wanted that too; it was unfair.

You see his hands reaching for his belt, but you stop him.

“Wait, kiss me first.”

He just does anything you say. His eyes looking big, shiny, and submissive.

“Sure,” he whispers, barely audible, trembling.

You bring your lips close to his. You embrace his body, and he quickly does the same with yours, delicately taking you by the waist and timidly exploring your body, your back, and your hips. It’s the same paradise for both of you. At first, it’s rushed, passionate, clumsy, but tender. It takes a few seconds for you to adapt to each other’s movements and find a delicious rhythm.

Felix’s lips are plump; you always wanted to kiss them but weren’t sure if you should cross that line. But that doesn’t matter right now. It’s a passionate moment, sweet but sizzling, mouths colliding, breaths cut short, exquisitely dirty sounds, his tongue playing with yours, and your body sticking to his, rubbing delicately against his much-needed erection that he is currently experiencing.

You separate, although neither of you seems to want to. You still linger in each other’s mouths, breathing hot and slowly, brushing lips. Felix feels so consumed by the situation that he whispers, somewhat dazed,

“So... does this mean...?”

He can’t finish his sentence, but he knows that kiss had a deep meaning. It was like saying what you never dared to say. That you not hesitating to kiss each other was a very clear sign that there was already something there.

You smile. You know what he’s talking about and finish his sentence. “That I like you, Felix, yes. And... I want to thank you for always being so good to me.”

Your gaze rises from his softly sucking lips to his docile gaze, tender yet lascivious, then descends to the beautiful freckles on his face, which give him an innocent and harmless appearance. And, to tell the truth, that is exactly how he feels now under your touch.

He wants to think it’s the innocence of seeing each other like this for the first time, with desire, or at least revealing it to one another. The innocence of your first caresses with passionate affection, of your first kiss… but your intentions go beyond something innocent.

“I like you too, Y/N.”

You smile and kneel slowly, caressing his body on your way to his erection.

“I know,” you reply, lifting your chin and looking him in the eyes. “We can work this out.”

You sigh without him noticing and look at his bulge. You’re just as nervous and aroused, despite appearing confident. You feel your femininity pulsing, you’re so ready.

Felix blushed, watching your hands unbuckle his belt. He doesn’t want to say it, he’s embarrassed, but he also doesn't want to stop, or give you an unpleasant surprise, so he suddenly blurts out nervously:

“W-wait,” which catches your attention abruptly. You’re about to pull down his boxers. “It’s just that… I-I haven’t fully shaved yet.”

Felix didn’t expect his best friend, whom he has a crush on, to suck his dick like that, right there in her own living room.

A big smile forms on what was once your attentive and concerned face at whatever Felix had to say. You find him cute, since he’s blushing.

“Oh, I don’t care about that, Lix. It’s okay.”

You pull down his underwear, making Felix moan from the sensations of releasing his cock and the fabric rubbing against his sensitivity. You glance briefly at his penis and then look up at him. Felix looks down at you, still looking so damn handsome even from that angle. He’s still embarrassed about not having his private area ‘clean,’ but you give him a warm, knowing smile; you find it cute that he’s like this because he only overreacted a little.

He looks perfect. It almost pisses you off how perfect he looks. His cock looks perfect—thick, needy, throbbing. Just the right size to fill your mouth, to make you taste every inch of him. And for some reason, it turns you on even more that he’s clearly shaved recently—but it didn’t help much; his hair is already growing back. You wouldn’t even have noticed if he hadn’t mentioned it. Now it’s just a tiny detail that makes you even wetter—the subtle roughness of his skin, the faint stubble where he’d shaved, trailing toward his thick, hard shaft. So ready for you to taste him.

You’ll still take him just like that, and you do. You’re slightly desperate. You take his cock in your hand, feeling the softness of its texture, and you can’t resist bringing it closer to your lips. You rub his mauve pinkish warm tip on your lips, gently smearing yourself with his precum, and then you open your mouth, stick out your tongue, and let his throbbing cock rest on it while your hand pumps the rest of its length.

Felix gasps, groans from deep within, moans hoarsely, with difficulty, and heavy, ragged breathing. He feels so hot that he takes off his jacket and throws it weakly onto the sofa. And finally, he decides to take your head, caressing your hair, the two high pigtails that he initially thought made you look extremely cute, and now desire and dirty thoughts surrounded him, thinking that he could cum on them if possible. You are both so horny.

You start to put his cock in your mouth, filling yourself with every inch of it, sucking it hard and starting to swallow it. In seconds, it becomes dirty and obscene. You savor and revel in it, caressing every part of him —your tongue and hands greedy, gliding from the smooth skin of his abs to the soft weight of his balls. You take his cock out from time to time, licking and savoring its entire length. You’re dripping. Saliva strings from your lips to his tip, your chin sticky, your breath messy, and between your thighs, your cunt clenches, throbbing, demanding its turn.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, so you can’t help but smile as his cock fills you up. You look into his eyes, Felix is whimpering, babbling, and cursing in muffled moans, being so stimulated that his pretty eyes start to water. He’s so close.

“I just... want to thank you for always giving me what I ask for. How do you do it?”

You start talking, speeding up your hand to satisfy him. Felix whimpers and throws his head back, sounding so needy, letting you do whatever you want to him.

“I’m doing everything I can, love. For you,” he replies with difficulty.

All his muscles tense, every part of him begging for release.

“Fuck! I’m about to cum,” he announces, his voice trembling.

Adrenaline and desire fill your body, making your heart beat fast, waiting for his much-desired cum. You look into his eyes as you feel his body tremble, his cock twitching in your hand, so you hurry and put it in your mouth, filling yourself with his warm burst of ejaculation. Felix whimpers even more as he cums intensely and releases every drop of himself.

You drink his semen with satisfaction, remembering the particular flavor of your best friend, and take his collapsed cock out of your mouth, playfully fiddling with his shaft near your lips, adorning yourself with small white drops.

But you still can’t stop. You suddenly stand up.

“Should we continue?”

You’re always so unpredictable. Felix looks at you expectantly and lets you gently push his body, leading him to sit on your sofa. He’s still recovering, his cock is somewhere between soft and hard, but his situation becomes more difficult when he sees you quickly undressing.

He moans as he feels your warm pussy press against his sensitive member, sitting on top of him, his cock twitches under you, still slick, still recovering. Your folds on his new erection, moving subtly on top of him. He stiffens again when he feels your labia grind down on him. He’s sensitive as hell, but helpless to resist you.

You take his shirt off, appreciating his abs and the cute, barely visible freckles on his shoulders. You hold on to them, position his cock at your entrance, and slowly let yourself fall onto it. You both moan at the sensation that surrounds you. Felix feels your wetness and walls throbbing around his length, and he bites his lower lip hard, still so sensitive, but he wants to fuck you, or you to fuck him. He grabs your waist and lets you ride him at the pace you set. Everything feels so good to him.

You start to sway your hips, sliding on his cock, lifting your ass, first slowly and precisely, then desperately, fast and needily. You kiss him hard, hug him, press your forehead against his, and let yourself be carried away by the moment. Felix slowly loses his shyness and plays with your breasts; you can feel his desperation and pleasure. You are so close, and your pussy and body feel so particularly satisfied that you arch your back and throw your head and torso back, without losing the rhythm.

You come back and cling to him, whimpering his name in his ear as you feel overwhelmed by your next orgasm, and you come, your thighs trembling, his cock inside you to the hilt. Felix cums with a cry, hips twitching under your thighs, spilling his semen inside you seconds later, pleasantly used. Finally, filling you with all his desire for you.

“You’re a spoiled little brat, you know that?” he jokes breathlessly.

You smile, breathing deeply into the crook of his neck, collapsed and satisfied, and then you lift your head weakly to look at him.

“I adore you,” he confesses.

You gently rub your nose against his.

“Me too,” you give him a quick kiss. “Should we watch Shrek next?”

He rolls his eyes playfully at your sudden change, as usual.

𐙚 taglist: @rylea08 @iovecb97 @armystay89 @lolareadsimagines @ayyonoona @do-you-remember-summer-127 @wildtokay @korthbum @hyune-sssne @oddracha @choso4u @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @bokkiesluv @thvsuga @myrkhive @vernorica123 @enhacolor @mintchocoddeonut @ysljoon

[straykeedz-recs]

Don't Cum Like a Loser

paring: idol!felix x fem!reader

gender: fluff, smut, stable relationship

word count: 1.1k (1006)

warnings: phone sex/sexting, dirty talk, masturbation, sex without protection (pls be safe), creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, slight desperation kink, possessive behavior, begging, felix being very down bad

The tour kept you apart for weeks, but the calls were sacred.

No matter the city, the time, or how tired he was, Felix always found a moment to listen. Sometimes they were brief video calls from backstage, where he'd show you the day's outfits with childlike excitement. Other times, he'd call you from the bus, his hair damp from the shower and his eyes fluttering shut from exhaustion as he murmured:

“I miss you. I don't want to sleep without hearing your voice..."

And you always answered — even when it was late, even when exhaustion clung to your body. Because his raspy voice at the end of the day felt like a soft caress against your heart.

But that night was different.

It was past two in the morning when your phone buzzed. "Lixie calling 🐥💕."

"Felix?" you answered, your voice still thick with sleep.

"Baby..." His voice was low, rough, deeper than usual. As if it cost him to speak.

"Were you asleep?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. Are you alright?"

Silence.

"I am... and I'm not." A shaky breath. Then a long sigh. "I need you, angel. I'm lying in bed, alone, and I can't stop thinking about you. Your voice, your body... how you felt that night in the hotel."

You sat up slowly, heart pounding.

"Are you touching yourself, Felix?"

"Yes..." he confessed with a choked moan, embarrassed but far too needy to stop. "I'm imagining you on top of me, like that time. You kissing me, whispering that I'm yours. Telling me to fill you up, that you can't take it anymore..."

You swallowed hard, heat building low in your belly.

"Tell me what you're doing. I want to hear you."

Felix panted into the phone.

"My hand's on my cock," he whispered shakily. "It's so hard, angel. It hurts. I'm thinking about the way you moaned my name when you came. God, I want to be inside you again. I want to cum inside you like I did that day, without control."

"Are you going to?"

"Will you let me?" he pleaded. "Will you let me think about you while I cum like a desperate mess?"

"Yes, Lixie. Do it for me."

His breathing turned ragged. Felix let out a low, drawn-out moan, thick with pleasure, his body arching as he fucked his fist. You could picture it all: his parted lips, trembling thighs, sweat-slick chest, and the flushed desperation on his face.

"Ah... angel..." he panted. "I'm gonna cum... fuck, I love you so much..."

And he did. Whispering your name over and over as he unraveled.

Then, silence. Just the sound of his slowing breath and yours syncing with it.

"Will you call me tomorrow?" he asked shyly. "I want to hear you... do the same. For me."

The crowd's screams still echoed through the dome's hallways as you slipped backstage, escorted by staff with knowing smiles. You wore a low-slung cap and an oversized hoodie — Chan's idea. He'd helped you plan the entire surprise.

Felix had no idea.

You waited behind a black curtain near the dressing rooms, heart pounding as the lights still flickered and footsteps echoed. Laughter spilled into the hallway.

Then you saw him.

Hair damp with sweat, eyes glowing, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. A towel around his neck, shirt clinging to his chest, still panting from the stage. He walked with his head down, wiping his face.

"Felix," you called softly.

He stopped.

Looked up.

Blinked.

And froze.

"No..."

"Surprise," you grinned, lifting your cap.

The towel hit the ground. He ran to you.

Felix wrapped you in his arms and lifted you off the floor, burying his face in your neck with a shaky, half-laugh, half-sob.

"You're here. You're actually here, angel."

"I'm here, Lixie."

He didn’t let go. Not when staff brushed past with water bottles and clean clothes. Not when his members shouted confused congratulations. He just held you tighter.

"I thought I was dreaming," he whispered. "I needed you today more than anything. I missed you so much it fucking hurt."

"You don't have to miss me anymore, do you?"

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, voice low.

"No. But I want to take you to the hotel. Now."

Felix tried to stay calm.

He really tried.

From the second you enter the hotel room door with that smile he craved, wearing those clothes that made him weak, he was doomed.

While you laughed and tossed your bag aside, Felix was already pacing, muttering under his breath, his face red up to his ears.

"Don't cum like a loser... don't cum like a loser..."

You raised a brow. "What are you saying, Lixie?"

"Nothing!" he yelped, voice pitching high before he cleared his throat. "Nothing important."

But it was important. Because he wanted to do it right. Because he’d dreamed of this. Because he’d touched himself to the thought of you every night.

And when you touched him, everything short-circuited.

You guided him to the bed, climbing on top with a kiss so sweet it turned his brain to static. Your hands braced his shoulders. He trembled beneath you.

And when you sank down onto him, surrounding him completely—

"Ah—" Felix gasped, eyes wide, body locked tight.

He didn't move. Not once.

He came instantly.

A broken moan ripped from his throat as he spilled inside you, trembling, overwhelmed.

"No, no, no..." he whimpered, eyes glassy. "I'm sorry, angel. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. Fuck, I didn't even thrust. I didn't want it to be like this."

You looked at him with tenderness, brushing his damp hair back.

"You were that happy to see me?"

He groaned in frustration. "Don't tease... I wanted to make you feel good."

"You did, Lixie. And if your goal was to make me feel wanted... congratulations."

That lit a fire in him.

His gaze shifted — dark, determined.

"Then I’m not stopping. Not until you forget how to count."

And he meant it.

He had you against the bed. Against the mirror. Between the sheets. In his arms.

His mouth worshipped every inch of you. His hips found rhythm over and over. And his name was the only word you remembered screaming.

By the time you fell asleep, tangled in him, Felix whispered:

"Sorry about earlier?"

You yawned softly.

"Earlier? I don't remember anything before this."

And he smiled.

Victorious.

[straykeedz-recs]

chlorine therapy || bc

bang chan x reader

after an argument, you find chris at your apartment complex's pool.

word count: 1,190 genre: light angst with a happy ending warnings: hurt feelings, misunderstanding, making up after an argument

notes: thanks to @eerieedits for yet another gorgeous banner!

enjoy! lmk what you think! 💙

The thing about indoor pools is that they all have the same vibe. Humid, stuffy air heavy with the acidic scent of too much chlorine. Large, echoey rooms that feel like they belong in some indie horror film, not attached to an expensive apartment complex in the heart of a major metropolitan area. 

This one is no different. 

The key reader beeps as you swipe your fob, and you’re hit with the wall of humidity as soon as you open the door. The pool is mostly empty—it’s far too late for anyone else to be awake, let alone ready for a swim. But still, the pool has one occupant, and you make your way around the concrete and tile decking to the long edge, toeing out of your sandals and sitting so you can watch. You feel your shorts dampen with the water that clings to the edge, but right now, you don’t really care. 

The water is remarkably warm on your legs as you dangle them just below the surface. Waves from the lone swimmer lap at your shins. You watch as he goes through lap after lap, transition after transition, back and forth and back again. He used to do this competitively, used to be one of the best in his age group, but the years have slowed him, and he’s no longer in practice the way he was. 

Still, the pool wasn’t meant to be used like this. It doesn’t have swim lanes, or any of the underwater markings so necessary for any sort of serious swimming. It was built for families to spend summer evenings, for couples having lazy weekends, teens looking to let off some steam. Not for former near-pros who need somewhere to disappear to when the fire in their veins threatens to burn them alive. 

Backstroke. Butterfly. Breaststroke. He alternates between them as easily as breathing. Maybe, for him, it is. 

You clutch a towel in your lap. It was warm when you left the apartment, but now, it’s lost its fresh-from-the-dryer appeal. You aren’t really sure what you were expecting when you made the trek down to the complex’s pool. 

Whatever it was, getting ignored wasn’t part of it. 

Eventually, he slows. His strokes become more casual. He pushes himself around the water lazily, kicking his feet like a frog. And yet still, he says nothing. 

Until: “What time is it?”

“Late,” you answer solemnly. It comes out softer than you’d hoped it would. 

“You should be asleep.”

You hum. “Couldn’t. My favorite body pillow decided to have a pool day.”

His back is to you, and you can’t read his tone when he says, “There’s a body pillow in the closet you could have used.”

“I…” You aren’t really sure how to respond. Because explaining sort of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? You always slept better with him nearby. He knows that. It’s a metaphor. It’s… pointless, apparently.

The hurt creeps in again. You’d thought that a few hours was enough time to let its icy tendrils melt, enough for him to cool down and for you to patch yourself back up. Enough for the hurt on both sides to heal. You’d thought that the pool would help. 

The pool always helps. 

Your fingers tighten in the soft fabric of the towel, and you nod quietly. Maybe tonight, the pool wasn’t enough. Maybe, for the first time in the years you’ve known him, this was something that couldn’t be patched over so easily. 

The two of you don’t fight. Not really. 95 percent of your problems are solved with rational thought and conversation. You’ve always approached things as a team, together as a united front. Even when you were slightly more than best friends. But that other five percent? It digs deep, builds thick walls, tells lies in the shadows of the mind.

He doesn’t want to burden you. You want nothing more than to help him carry the baggage he takes on. Hurt feelings take root in silence, pain builds until it bubbles over. You don’t even know it’s happening until something gives and everything explodes.

You’re not sure which is worse: that it got to this point in the first place, or that you don’t remember what the argument was even about.

You lose track of him in the water, you’re so engrossed in your thoughts. You’ve just convinced yourself to leave him be, to give him more time, more space. Your feet aren’t even out of the water yet, but a head of dark hair bobs its way over.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, voice soft. His honeyed baritone is laced with something that sounds almost like an apology, but he doesn’t say it. Not yet.

Dark eyes meet yours, and you can almost convince yourself that he’s the Chris of this morning–the one that was almost late to a meeting because he wouldn’t stop kissing you goodbye–and not the Chris of a few hours ago, who’d scolded you over a bowl of instant ramen and then told you that you were incapable of understanding what was bothering him.

“I didn’t mean…” He clears his throat, eyes darting to the towel you’re clutching. There’s a weak wobble in his voice when he speaks again. “I like being your body pillow. I just thought that maybe you’d want space after…”

You hate how you hesitate in reaching out, fingertips hovering just millimeters off his skin before ghosting across his forehead to brush his wet hair back off his face. “You’re doing it again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to protect me from you, you know?” Your hand comes to rest against his cheek. His skin is cool from the water, and you brush some stray droplets away with your thumb. “No matter what’s bothering you. I might not have all the answers, but at least you won’t have to carry it alone.”

Chris leans into your touch, turning ever so slightly so that his lips brush your palm. “I love you.” He breathes it, like a prayer, like it’s sacred.

You lean down, then, and he pushes up to meet you halfway. Water rolls off of him in rivulets, soaking your legs as he settles between your knees. Strong arms hold him up, caging you in. Your hands cup his jaw, fingers curving along the sharp lines and soft skin. He tastes like chlorine and his favorite apricot lip balm; his lips mould to yours as though they were made to be there. It’s gentle, loving, a little desperate, as though he’s trying to tell you a million things all at once.

You’re breathless when he finally, reluctantly, pulls away, noses brushing, foreheads touching. You barely register how damp your clothes are now, how they stick to your skin.

“I am sorry. For everything.”

“I know you are. And I suppose I can forgive you. If you bring my favorite body pillow to bed.”

He chuckles, and you can feel his breath fan across your face. He leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead, just above your eyebrow. “I think I can manage that.”

[straykeedz-recs]

“Unreleased”

꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ Bang Chan x gn!reader ˒˓ long-term established relationship 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. angst, no comfort (so sorry), emotional cheating.

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — first time writing an angsty mini fic, but i was in a mood for some hurting, i might do a part 2 of this if people enjoy, so let me know what u think! <3

The soft blue light of the laptop screen illuminated the room. It was late, later than you’d usually stay up, but thats what happened when you procrastinate.

Chan had gone out for a snack run, leaving in a rush, the way he did when he craved something sweet. You stayed home, working in a slight panic, on an assignment as usual.

Despite the rush to get the work done the space was Cozy. Familiar. Safe.

You looked around the apartment. The blanket he always made sure was folded and waiting for you on the couch. The half-drunk tea you left on the table that he never complained about. The pair of his socks you were wearing, mismatched but warm. It was always the little things with him.

Your life with Chan wasn’t perfect, but it was real.

He’d leave sticky notes on the bathroom mirror that said cheesy things like “Don’t forget you’re brilliant” or “You’re my favorite harmony.” They made you cringe but they always brought a smile to your face.

You’d make him playlists for his midnight walks home, scrawling stupid little doodles on the cover art. He’d hum your favorite song when he cooked breakfast, even if he didn’t know all the words. You’d sit beside him in the studio sometimes, not talking, just being there, and he’d glance at you between takes with that soft, tired smile. The kind that said, “You’re the only thing keeping me grounded.”

You knew the ebb and flow of his energy. The quiet days when he didn’t say much, the nights he needed to be held, the mornings where he danced in the kitchen just to make you laugh. He supported your work too, always the loudest cheerleader even when your confidence faltered. He once waited two hours outside your lecture just to hand you a smoothie and tell you he was proud of you.

He made you feel like home wasn’t a place, but a person. Him.

That’s why, when you opened his laptop to send yourself a file, something that wasn’t out of the ordinary, you both kept your devices open to each other, you didn’t think twice. Not until you saw it. A folder, half-buried under date-stamped labels. Titled simply: “Unreleased.”

Curiosity pulled at you.

Inside: voice memos. Demos. Snippets of lyrics. Familiar stuff. But one file was different. A Word doc. Nothing flashy.

Just a title.

“A spark I didn’t expect.txt”

Your stomach fluttered.

You clicked.

⸻

“There’s this girl.”

“I’m not quite sure how she ended up in my life, fate? Odds? Or maybe that’s just life, I guess. At first, it was nothing. Just polite conversation. But the more I saw her, the more I found myself… wondering, thinking, dreaming…”

“She’s sunlight in a locked room. Not blinding. Just warm. Steady. She listens like she’s reading music off my face. And I’ve caught myself thinking things I know I shouldn’t. Like what her laugh would sound like pressed against my collarbone. What her hands feel like when they’re not holding a pen or a mic. What she smells like.”

“She’s made me want to write again. Not for work. But for me.”

⸻

You stared at the screen.

Your chest tightened so fast it made you dizzy. You read it again, and again. hoping, no. praying, that it would turn into something else. A metaphor. A fiction. Or maybe that would just disappear. Anything that didn’t feel like… this.

But no.

Suddenly all the late night talks of your future, the list of potential baby names in your shared notes app. every single moment of your relationship suddenly felt like a weight around your neck, dragging you deeper into an ocean of despair.



The silence in the room felt unbearable now, almost violent. The air turned thick. Your ears rang.

How could someone who made you feel so safe write something that made you feel so replaceable?

He hadn’t written about you like this in years.

You’d chalked it up to time. You weren’t naïve, you know that love settles, simmers. It becomes a rhythm. But this wasn’t just a spark. This was a yearning.

Your lips trembled as the tears spilled over. It wasn’t just sadness, it was betrayal. The kind that gnawed at the very bones of who you thought you were together.

you didn’t hear the door open. Didn’t hear the keys drop. Or the crinkle of bags.

“Babe?” Chan’s voice echoed faintly from the doorway, casual at first, until he stepped into the room and saw you curled on the couch, laptop glowing beside you, your face streaked with tears.

He froze.

“Hey-hey, what happened?” His voice sharpened, alarmed. He rushed to you, crouched beside you. “Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

You didn’t answer. Just turned the laptop toward him with shaking hands.

Silence.

His eyes scanned the words. Slowly. Carefully. His face, once filled with confusion crumpled into something more painful. Guilt. Shame. A sliver of fear.

“I—I didn’t. You weren’t supposed to see that,” he said, voice trembling.

You laughed. It was bitter. Empty.

“Yeah, I figured.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, speechless. “It wasn’t… I didn’t do anything. It was just a thought. That’s all it was.”

You stared at him through tears. “But it wasn’t just one thought was it?”

He stared his face stricken as your words sliced into him.

“You’ve fantasized about her, regularly. Not just her body, Chan. Her soul. You said she made you want to write again. When was the last time you said that about me?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. He looked like he’d been gutted.

“I didn’t stop loving you,” he whispered.

“But you started wanting someone else.” Your voice broke on the last word.

He reached for you gently, desperately. But the second his hand brushed your arm, you recoiled like he’d burned you.

“don’t.” you whispered.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he pleaded, his own eyes glossy now. “It was just a stupid thing. I never acted on it. I never would.”

His eyes pleaded for you to understand for you to know without the words how much he loves you.

“That’s the worst part,” you said. “You didn’t need to act on it. You already left me. You started a relationship with her in you mind.”

He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Speechless. Breathless.

You stood, grabbing your coat with trembling hands. Your entire body screamed at you to crumble, to scream, to make him feel the weight of what he’d done but you didn’t.

You just shook your head, and walked out the door.

No words. No goodbye.

Just silence, where love used to live.

[straykeedz-recs]

My Gift To You |Bang Chan| |M|

Summary: Chris has everything he ever wanted, a wonderful career, and a beautiful girlfriend who he loves dearly, but he wants to give you more. His virginity. And why not do it during the biggest time of the year?

Paring: idolBangchan! x!female reader

Genre: smut and fluff

sw: oral (m.receiving), slight d/s, subspace, (sub reader ish) unprotected sex, praise kink ( more so Chan), semi rough sex, size kink, daddy kink, squirting

Song of the day: Letters by Jimin + Fingers by ZAYN

w.c: 2,195

[s.masterlist]

A/n: it’s done! This is the last one shot of the series! I hoped you enjoyed it even though it’s not Christmas anymore ( I’m sorry:() I was gonna do a Valentine’s Day one but truth be honest if i don’t even think i would finish it on February 😭. But i seriously enjoyed this, i enjoyed you as the readers and I honestly enjoyed being about to use other idols I never wrote about before and i hope I’ll get to do this again. Thank you again!

Chan looks at you with a smile as you hug the pink teddy bear he got you during the charismas carnival you two are at right now. "Thank you so much channie!" You giggle out to him and plant a kiss on his warm cheeks. Chris and You have been together for about a year, and it has been the most wonderful year being your boyfriend. But being his boyfriend came a price, and you knew that. After all he was the biggest artist right now and the best leader in a kpop group.

Chan tries his hardest to make you happy, even when you told him that anything he does for you was good enough for you. And you always stayed true to your word. "Anything for you princess." He says and you two continue walking. Even with the mask covering his face you could still see the smile that was formed on his lips. "This is great." You say after a while as little kids run past you two. The cold crisp air blows past you, making your hair move just a bit. "Yeah? You think so baby?" He answers you, putting your hand inside his coat pocket as you two walk to his car. "Oh I know so." You smile and Chan smiles back at you and bends down to peck your lips before pulling away from you to open the passenger door. The drive back to his dorm was quiet but it was comfortable, every now and again your boyfriend would put his hand on your bare thigh, his warm hands leaving goosebumps at his wake. For any person Chan's subtle touches would be considered sexual, which was always question by his members, something you never really thought about. When you and Chan first got together it was during when you first came to Korea. Not really knowing the spots and famous places you had to ask someone, anyone where you should go. Chan and Felix just so happened to be walking in the park when you asked them a question, you're Korean a little rusty, only knowing the basics. Thank god those two could speak English otherwise you might have been stuck.

Chan asked for your number first, which at the time you didn't think much of it. You didn't know who he was, never seen or listened to any of his music so he took it as a chance to get to know you. To see the real you, and that you did. When he first told you that he was a virgin truth be honest you laughed. You laughed to the point where tears were in your eyes and Chan, your poor boyfriend, pouted at you, his Australian accent thick as he told you he was telling the truth. How can someone as beautiful as him not have a girlfriend other than you? You were determined to be his first, and his last. After many conversations and some do and don'ts you and Chan both agreed to just do it when he's ready and chan felt like he was ready.

You don't know what happened first, he parked the car in the garage, turned it off and he gave you a look. With his mask off he pushes the seat back just a bit and he rubs his hands down his thighs. The tan pants he wearing makes his thighs bigger than normal. Fuck if he gave you a chance you'll ride them. You give him a smile before taking off your seatbelt, you get up and climb over his lap. You do end up hitting the steering wheel making Chan laugh as you put your lips on his. One peck after another Chan's right hand goes on the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Your lips moving in sync, and fuck your lips on his feels so good. His chapped lips on your soft ones and the sweet flowery perfume fills his brain making it more foggy than normal.

A whimper leaves your lips as you grind down on him, his dick getting harder and harder. His left hand goes to your waist before going down to your ass gripping one cheek and releasing it. "I'm ready." He mumbles in the kiss and you pull away. You stare into his chocolate like eyes, "Are you sure?" Fuck was he sure? He was more than sure, shit a few months ago he wanted to bend you against his kitchen counter because of the little sleeping shorts you had on. If Christopher Bang had a dime for every time you got him hard it'll be 10. So to sum it all up you asking him was he sure made him kind of honestly laugh. "Baby, I haven't been this sure since the day I met you." He chuckles and you giggle when he slaps your ass. With a nod you two get out of the car and go into the elevator.

Once you get into his room Chan finds his lips back on yours, his shirt comes off first and you try your hardest not to rake your nails down his chest, even though you know he would love for you to do that. Chan biggest turn on is him picking out the shape of your nails, the color and all. He even has a picture of you wrapping your fresh manicured nails around his dick.

Yeah, Chris had it down bad.

You get on your knees in front of him, and you go to unbutton his pants before pulling them down. His dick slaps against the bottom of his tone stomach and it makes your mouth water. Chan watches you wrap your cold hand around him and he feels a shiver down his spine and a low moan leaves his mouth and his hips jerk up against your hand. "Please." You hear him whimper and it makes you smile just a bit to know that you're the only person that gets him this hard, to make him submit to you and only you. Your hand start to move up and down, and you open your mouth and put a wet glob of spit on the tip of his dick before rubbing it all the way down his shaft.

Inch by inch you take him down your throat, and inch by inch you hear Chan gasp for air. You place your hands against his bare thighs. As you move your head up and down gagging a little at his size Chan's thigh clenches as you dig your nails into his thigh. "I-Is this okay?" You hear him mumble as he moves his hips up forcing you to gag. You nod and moan around him.

Your throat burns and Chan doesn't make it easy on you as he continues to fuck your throat. Spit drips down your chin and he can feel his high coming. Curses and groans leaves his pretty pink lips and he looks down at you, so beautiful like this. Tear stained cheeks and the little make up you had on your face messed up and runny. "Fuck- baby you look so beautiful like this." You feel his right hand go on the top of your head before dripping your hair and he slams his hips in your mouth. "Shit- I'm going to cum and you're going to take it. Isn't that right baby?" He questions you and you moan around him for an answer. He hums and his lips form into a smirk before moving his hips faster and then after a while you feel warm, salty cum fill your mouth.

Shit. Chan can feel his body levitating, and his soul disappearing when you get up from the floor. You giggle as you see his fucked out face and you put your lips on his, your tongue exploring his mouth. Chan steps out his pants when you pull away from him, "Was that good?" You mumble in the kiss when you two fall in the bed, him on top of you. Chan pulls away from you, looking up into your eyes and he grins. "Good? Baby that was perfect." He says and he watches you sit up a bit to pull off your pink pale dress. You watches as his eyes trail down your body your boobs sitting up perfectly against the black lace bra you had on. Chan would have to admit it as much as he loved your ass that you worked hard for, he loves your boobs. They're so round and big that fits at the pam of his hand.

It was one of your many features he loved about you. He also loved how small you were compared to him. He never really noticed it at first until Felix pointed it out one day at their many late night drink sessions. At first it was just a joke, a silly harmless joke, but then once you where next to him, and begging him to pick you up one day he felt his dick switch in his sweatpants and ever since then he's kinda been fantasizing about you like this. Underneath him, begging him to fuck you so good that you see stars. Truth be told if it was up to Chan he would have been had you been creaming around his dick.

"Fuck." You whimper out when Chan's hot lips suck on your nipples. As he sucks on one you feel his hand trail down your stomach to the waistband of your panties. You open your legs up just a bit so he can slide his hand down to your core. He rubs small circles on your clit over hour underwear making you rock your hips just a bit. He pulls his mouth from your left boob to go to your right one giving it the same treatment. God your pussy was throbbing and you just wanted him inside you. Chan leaves your cunt and brings two fingers to his mouth and sucks on them before taking them out and pull your panties to the side and he slides two fingers in slowly.

A low moan leaves your lips as you grip into Chan's forearms. He moves his fingers at a slow pace. "F-Faster? Please daddy?" Shit. Chan could feel himself grow harder. He nods and goes faster and adds a third finger and your eyes roll in the back of your head. "Y-Yes! Oh fuck! Good job baby." A whimper leaves Chan's throat at the praise and he curls his fingers just a bit to find your g-spot. When he does you see stars and moans leaves your lips. You could feel that familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach. "S-Stop baby I wanna cum around your dick please?"

Your boyfriend nods and pulls his fingers out before slipping in between your legs. His hips slam against yours as he slides in, you're so warm and wet around him that he's losing his mind. He's like a rabbit in heat as he moves his hips, harder and harder, his balls hitting your ass and the sounds that leaves your lips encourages him more. One minute you have your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him deeper and the next your legs are against your chest as Chan's large hands are on the back of your thighs as he slams his hips against yours again. He's hypnotized. Your pussy sucking in dick so well, and you're taking it like a good girl too. Tears falling from your eyes and words leave your lips but he doesn't really understand what you're saying. The word daddy leaves your lips, and you chant it over and over.

You felt so full, his dick filling you up so nicely and you honestly believe that you could cum just like this. And the way the tip of his head hits your sweet spot it sends you over the edge and you cum around him, your body shakes a little and you moan loudly. You see stars as you squirt around him wetting the blanket under you. A groan is heard from Chan as he feels his high coming after yours and he cums after you, one slam after another his hot cum fills your cunt and you whimper.

Chan pulls out slowly, his cum dripping out your soppy hole and he lets your legs down before crawling up to you and pulling you in a kiss, whispering how much of a good girl you was for him. But that's all you remember before passing out. Your body next to his, and he mumbles thank you and I love you before he too, falls asleep next to you. Chan can honestly say that he’s glad he gave you his virginity, because he couldn’t picture giving it to anyone else.

[straykeedz-recs]

To everyone else, you’re Jake’s girlfriend and picture of innocence—soft spoken, always with a smile, the type to bake cookies and kiss him goodbye on the cheek. His friends are sure he’s not getting what he needs, and they don’t hold back their advice for him to cheat, flirt, find someone who’ll actually put out. Jake doesn’t even bother correcting them, cause not only are they wrong, they’re wildly off the mark.

nsfw warnings: SMUT, toxic male friendship dynamics, back-talking, gaslighting, multiple rounds of sex, overstimulation, oral (m & f receiving), creampie, fingering, light breathplay, praise kink, mild degradation, anal play (established dynamic), light powerplay, hair pulling, dirty talk, cockwarming, light possessiveness, squirting, soft dom/sub elements, and begging.

7.9k

Jake Sim is...hard to explain.

If you ask around, you'll hear a thousand different versions. Jake Sim is hot. Jake Sim is an asshole. Jake Sim is the sweetest guy you'll ever meet. Jake Sim is the guy who'll flirt with you all night, fuck you into the mattress, and then forget your name before the sun even rises. Jake Sim is a player, a charmer, he's the guy everyone warns everyone about always a little too late.

And to be honest? they're not exactly wrong. Jake is the kind of guy who makes a mess just to see if someone else will clean it up. The kind who smiles like he knows all the answers to everything and doesn't care to share them. Jake's never had to try hard for anything—not attention, not girls, not the kind of casual popularity that clings to people like him for no reason other than sheer gravity.

He floats through life on charm and instinct, making trouble look too effortless.

Well, not until you.

You never belonged in Jake's world, like not even a little bit. You didn't chase parties or post thirst traps. You weren't loud, or flashy, or easy to figure out. But you were soft spoken and self contained, always in those oversized knit sweaters and delicate little necklaces. You said "pardon?" instead of "what," and you never once looked at Jake like you wanted anything from him. In fact you never looked at him at all.

Maybe that's why he couldn't stop staring, because you didn't orbit around him like everyone else did. You truly just existed in your own world and you didn't give a toss that he was attractive in the way that made people act stupid. You were genuinely kind, irritatingly kind Jake would say, and it made him feel like a walking glitch in your perfect little universe.

He was the kind to ghost girls. You were the kind to remember everyone's birthdays. He blew off midterms sometimes. You sent people your notes when you noticed they weren't in class.

You weren't his type in any sense and he sure as hell wasn't yours. But that didn't stop him from going after you anyway.

It didn't stop the way he'd linger outside the library when he knew you were in there, with his eyes low and his fingers twitching. It didn't stop him from getting your number from someone he'd never even spoken to in his life but he saw them speak to you once and that was enough for him. It didn't stop whatever this became—this quietly consuming, slow burn kind of obsession that made Jake Sim, the most unserious, nonchalant boy in the world, go dead serious when it came to you.

So dead serious that he made you his girlfriend quicker than you could think to even consider saying no, and goddamn if you didn't love him and the intensity of it all too.

The promise ring he asked you to be his girlfriend with was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. You remember how red in the face he was, a little awkward too, holding out a tiny velvet box.

You'd slipped it on without hesitation, and now it lives on your finger, always warm from your skin and twirled endlessly whenever you're anxious or shy or thinking a little too hard. Jake watches you do it sometimes when you're talking to him, or even when you're not. It makes his chest tight in the best way possible.

You're still not officially living with him. But your things are everywhere, all over his apartment. Your makeup clutters the edge of his bathroom sin, your slippers sit beside his sneakers at the front door, your clothes even hang in his closet, slowly but surely taking over, and your lacey panties end up in his laundry pile more often than not—a discovery Jake reacts to every time like it's Christmas morning.

He swears he loves it, all of it, all of you.

He loves the way you hum to yourself when you cook, loves how you taste everything off the spoon and make him do the same thing. He loves waking up to the smell of something sweet in the oven, loves hearing you sing along to songs you think he can't hear from the other room. He loves the softness you bring into his space, it’s like his whole apartment exhales when you're in it.

And right now, he's trying not to smile like an idiot as you leave the tray of cookies fresh from the oven on the coffee table for him and his friends, they’re still warm and rich with the scent of vanilla and browned butter. The boys dive in immediately, tearing into them like they've been starving all day.

"Dude," Sunghoon mumbles with his mouth full. "What does she put in these?"

"Crack," Heeseung says, reaching for another. "Crack cocaine, I’m so damn sure."

Jake just smirks, watching you tidy up in the kitchen with your hair pulled back, phone in hand before heading toward the living room again, eyes already on him.

"I'm heading to the mall with my friends," you tell him sweetly, swinging your purse over your shoulder and leaning down to kiss one cheek, then the other. "Don't eat all the cookies before I get back." You tell them even though you know it’ll all be gone by the time you’re back.

Jake smiles up at you. "No promises."

You glance at the guys. "Enjoy, boys."

"Thanks, sweetheart," Sunghoon replies automatically, and Heeseung raises his cookie in salute.

The door to the apartment shuts behind you and the silence gets loaded.

Jake barely has time to reach for another cookie before Heeseung squints at him over the edge of his glass and says, "Okay but like...how often do you jerk off?"

Jake blinks. "What?"

"You know," Heeseung gestures vaguely. "When she's not around. Or even when she is. Like, how bad's the drought?"

Jake frowns. "What are you even—"

"Come on dude. She bakes, she cleans, she kisses your cheeks like a fucking disney character," Sunghoon says, shaking his head like he's genuinely concerned. "And she's got you wearing a promise ring, bro. Be serious."

Jake raises an eyebrow.

"She's your girlfriend, not your chastity coach," Heeseung adds, mouth full. "It's okay to like her, man. Be whipped or whatever, but every guy's got needs." He does air quotes with his fingers at whipped.

"Exactly," Sunghoon nods. "You're telling us you haven't cracked once? Eight months and she's still playing house instead of playing with your dick?"

Jake laughs.

It's low and easy as he tosses a cookie up in air, catching it in his mouth like he doesn't have a care in the world. "You guys don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Oh, come on—"

He doesn't let them finish.

Just shrugs, wipes a crumb off his jeans, and leans back against the couch cushions with that same frustratingly calm grin. Not confirming anything or denying either and definitely not offering a damn thing more.

And maybe that's what gets them most. Sunghoon is about to continue with his drilling but the apartment door bangs open and Jay barrels in like he was trying to break the door open.

"I had to park three fucking blocks away—why are there so many delivery trucks on your str—" He stops question when he spots the half empty cookie tray and Jake's face. "Ah. What’s going on?"

Heeseung and Sunghoon exchange a look that says perfect timing.

Sunghoon jerks a thumb toward Jake. "We're staging an intervention. Lover boy here claims he hasn't touched himself for eight months because little miss betty boop apparently doesn't—"

"Dude," Jake warns, voice flat.

Heeseung dives in anyway. "We're just saying every guy's got needs, and she's not exactly—" he twirls a hand, searching for a polite word and failing—"open access."

Jay slumps into the couch slowly, suddenly wary. "Okay, first? Why is this our business? Second, she literally did my laundry when I was half dead with the flu last month. She's an angel—"

"Exactly," Sunghoon interrupts, irritated that Jay isn't backing him. "She's too angelic. Jake's basically wasting away. I know a girl who wouldn't care that you’re taken—she'll rock your fucking world, no strings."

Jay's eyebrows shoot up. "Bro, are you actually telling him to cheat? That's fucked up."

Heeseung waves him off. "Look, pastor Jay, spare us the sermon. We’re being practical."

Jay crosses his arms. "Practical? Or fucking sleazy?"

Sunghoon's jaw tics. "Fine, keep your halo. I'm trying to help our boy here."

"Help?" Jay snorts. "You're insinuating his girlfriend's a prude and pushing him toward some side piece because you can't fathom a relationship that isn't twenty-four/seven fucking."

Heeseung lets out a low laugh. "Prude? She's sweet, yeah—but let's be real, she's a little stuck-up. Bet she makes him say please and thank you before he even—"

"Enough."

His voice isn't loud, but it's close to lethal and it make the room still. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on Heeseung. "Don't talk about my girlfriend like that."

The silence is as thick as caramel.

Heeseung opens his mouth, thinks better of it and just shrugs instead. Sunghoon raises both hands in a mock surrender. "All right, all right. We're just looking out for you, man."

Jake sits back, expression unmoving except for the tight belt of muscle along his jaw. "Appreciate the concern but drop it."

Jay exhales, tension easing from his shoulders as he snags a cookie. "Cool. Crisis averted. Let's talk about literally anything else—basketball, stocks, the weather—"

But the mood has unfortunately shifted too far. Under the warm scent of sugar and butter, something colder threads the air, like a line drawn or a warning given.

Jake breaks off a crumb, flicks it onto the tray, and doesn't say another word.

The hangout's pretty much dead, even though they try to shift the conversation, try to joke but nothing lands. Not with Jake sitting there, stiff as a statue, jaw tight, barely looking up. Heeseung's chewing slower, the cookies don't taste as good anymore, and Sunghoon keeps checking his phone like there's somewhere else he needs to be.

Because there is.

Anywhere but here that’s for sure.

Jake's not even yelling, but does he have to? The way he's gone quiet should be enough. He's not laughing at their dumb jokes, not biting back with sarcasm like usual. He’s just sitting there on his own couch like he doesn't even recognize it.

Jay finally clears his throat. "Uh...I should probably get going. Early shift tomorrow."

Heeseung stands. "Yeah. Same." He doesn’t even have a job.

Sunghoon mumbles something about traffic, already halfway to the door. No one says it, but they all feel it, feel the vibe shot and Jake's silence holding the smoking gun.

Jay lingers a little longer near the door. He glances back, eyes softer than before. "Hey...sorry, man. I’m sure they didn't mean for it to go there."

Jake doesn't look at him. Just rubs the heel of his palm into one eye. "Yeah. Whatever."

Jay nods once and doesn't push. The door clicks shut behind them, and Jake's left alone in the quiet. He slumps back on the couch, eyes drifting to the half empty cookie tray on the coffee table.

You made those for them.

And they still had the audacity to talk about you like that. To reduce you to some outdated stereotype of some sweet, doting, sexless girlfriend he must clearly be suffering through.

The door creaks open a moment later, and you waltz bouncing with happiness, arms overflowing with shopping bags. You toe off your shoes at the door, grin still plastered on your face as you make your way inside, the scent of your perfume trailing behind you like sunshine.

"Babyyy," you call out cheerfully. "You will not believe the sale I hit today."

You find him on the couch, slouched deep into the cushions, hoodie up, face shadowed by the TV glow and a silence that immediately makes you feel like something is wrong.

Your grin falters. "Jake?"

He turns his head toward you, offers a weak smile that’s just a twitch of his lips, not the real one that crinkles his eyes and melts your stomach.

You pause at the edge of the couch, looking at him, then the table, at the cookie tray that’s half full. There’s not a crumb in sight on the cushions or floor, which is odd because the boys always devour them like wolves.

Your heart sinks a little.

Something is wrong.

Without a word, you gently set your shopping bags down and crawl into his lap, settling your weight carefully over him, but his hands stay limp at his sides. He doesn't even tuck them around your waist like he always does. Doesn't nose into your neck or murmur a "missed you."

You touch his face, frown deepening. "Jakey..." you whisper, brushing his hair off his forehead. "Talk to me. What happened? You were fine when I left."

He shrugs once and his eyes stay distant, so you lean in and kiss his cheek, then the other, then his forehead, then the corner of his mouth but still nothing.

You press a soft slow kiss to his lips and his eyes flutter shut for a second.

He finally breathes out a sigh at that, like you've loosened something that was wrapped too tight in his chest.

"Just..." he mumbles, pulling you in by the waist now, finally holding you, finally here with you. "Some stupid shit with the boys."

You lean your forehead against his. "Hmm…what kind of stupid?"

He shakes his head, exhaling through his nose, jaw still ticking. "Doesn't matter."

"It matters if it makes this face," you say, gently pinching his pout. "Talk to me, baby."

He sighs again, but this time it's softer and a little less bitter. For a second, he just holds you, arms snug around your waist, your fingers in his hair, the scent of fresh cookies and the ghost of something ugly lingering in the air between you.

But at least you're here now and he’s already starting to feel better.

"They were just..." He swallows, jaw clenched. "Saying shit. About you. About us."

You pull back just a little, just enough to look into his eyes, head tilting softly. "Like what?"

He doesn't answer at first, he just presses his lips together like the words taste unpleasant on his tongue.

"That you're too sweet," he says finally. "Too innocent. That I must be struggling. That I'm not getting...what I need." He can't even say the rest while looking at you so his gaze drops to your collarbone. "Sunghoon even suggested that I should cheat. That he knew some girl who wouldn't care if I had a girlfriend."

“Jay was different though, he wasn’t having any of it.”

Your breath stutters just a little, but it’s enough that he notices and enough that it makes his stomach drop.

There it is—your face crumpling, it’s not dramatic, it’s like your heart folded in on itself for a second, and you're working quickly to iron it flat again.

Jake hates himself for putting that look there.

But then—God, your smile. It comes immediately after and it’s soft and unshaken.

"That's really shitty," you say, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. "But it doesn't matter what they think."

Jake's eyes flick up, searching yours for any signs of insincerity.

"You know that's not true," you continue. "Right?"

He nods, slowly. "Of course I do."

"Then that's all that matters," you whisper. You lean in and kiss his forehead again, warm and reassuring. "Maybe you just need to reevaluate your little bro club. Pick the ones who don't suggest cheating on your girlfriend over cookies she baked for them."

Jake exhales a breath of a laugh, tension starting to ease from his shoulders.

You smile again, a little sly this time. "Honestly, I always liked Jay more than the rest, anyway."

Jake huffs through his nose. "Yeah?"

You nod. "He defended my honor. What a man."

Jake finally smiles, real and wide and completely helpless. "I love you."

"I know, baby. I love you too." You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Now help me carry in all my bags. I got new panties." You say and push off him and that shuts him up fast, he’s already standing and following you into the bedroom like a possessed man, with eyes that gleam and hands that twitch, absolutely thrilled to see what you spent his money on.

You're already pulling out bags, giggling as you place each one on the bed like a dramatic little fashion show.

"Okay, ready?" you ask, grinning as you kneel on the mattress, surrounded by tissue paper, paper bags and receipts.

He flops down beside you, eyes wide, nodding like this is the first time you’ve done this, it’s not.

You hold up a dainty little silk top. "Cute, right?"

"That’s so hot, princess."

Followed by a miniskirt. "Too short?"

"No such thing."

He leans back on the bed, hands behind his head, watching you with an easy smile as you sift through your shopping bags, showing him more of what you got. He doesn't even bother hiding how proud he is watching you flaunt everything you bought.

You hold up a cute little white dress next. "This one was kinda expensive..."

Jake hums, eyes raking over you. "Worth every cent if you're wearing it."

You snort, but you're smiling as you slip it over your head. You smooth the fabric down and twirl once. "Do I look like someone's sugar baby?"

"You are someone's sugar baby," Jake grins, "you just cook too well for it to be obvious."

You giggle, tugging the hem down before sighing. "Okay, I'm not about to stain this with lipstick or lotion—hold on."

You casually peel the dress back off and toss it onto a nearby chair, standing fully naked in front of him without a second thought.

He lets his gaze drag slowly down your body, the same way it always does when you’re naked in his presence, so lazy but heated and familiar. Like he knows every inch of you by heart and never gets tired of seeing it.

"C'mere," he says, voice so deep, you already know what’s on his mind and you barely take a step before he's already got his hands on your waist, pulling you into his lap so he can have you straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck, and he just leans in, pressing his face into your skin, right at the curve of your neck.

"You always smell so fucking good," he tells you, lips brushing your collarbone. "And you're warm."

"I'm always warm," you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair.

He grins into your skin. "Yeah. Especially when you're on top of me like this, titties in my face and everything."

His lips trail along your collarbone, soft and slow, and his hands stay steady at your waist, thumbs pressing into the dip of your back, holding you in place

You sigh when he kisses your neck, just below your ear, and he feels the way your body softens in his lap, you're melting just for him.

He nips your jaw, then lower, moving his mouth down your throat, so warm and unhurried, open mouthed kisses skating down your chest until he reaches one of your breasts, wrapping his lips around it with a low groan like he's finally getting something he's been craving all day.

You arch into him instinctively, fingers curling in his hair as his tongue swirls around your nipple—lazy at first, then firmer and hungrier.

"Jake," you whisper, breath catching a little.

He hums against you, sucking slow and deep, one hand sliding up to cup the other side, thumb circling with the same rhythm his mouth sets.

Your hips shift without meaning to grind down unto him, and he catches that too, cock already hard beneath you.

"I’m so fucking in love with you," he mumbles into your skin, kissing across your chest to the other side.

His mouth stays wrapped tightly around your nipple, sucking on it so hard you moan a little, then he continues trailing wet kisses over your chest, his lips drag down your sternum before slipping one of his hands between your thighs. He's lazy about it at first, tracing idle circles against the inside of your thigh, like he's in no rush, or like he doesn't already feel how warm and wet you are sitting right on top of him.

You shift your hips, needing more, trying to grind down on him, but Jake just smiles against your skin. "Getting needy already, baby?" he murmurs, moving your panties to the side with two fingers, knuckles brushing deliberately light against your folds, teasing. "You're already wet," he mutters, almost to himself. His thumb grazes just barely over your clit, featherlight. "You know what that does to me?"

You whine and he grins like he's won something. But then his grin falters when you grab his wrist and hold it still.

Your voice is soft. "Jake."

He glances up at you.

"Stop teasing."

Before he can say anything back, you push firmly at his chest with both hands and he lets you. Lets himself fall back onto the mattress with a small gasp of surprise that turns into a breathless laugh.

"Shit," he laughs under his breath, one arm behind his head now, the other resting on your thigh. "You don't even let me pretend I'm in control anymore, huh?"

You raise a brow as you settle over him properly, your hands moving down his torso, nails dragging just enough to make him tense.

He bites his lip, eyes flicking between yours and your mouth, already drunk on the way you’re naked above him and so sure of what you want.

Jake's always had game. He's had his fun, knew what it meant to chase and win. But with you? With you, it's never been a game.

Your palm works him over his cock through his sweats, slow and deliberate, your thumb catching the outline of him through the fabric just right, and Jake's head tips back into the pillow with a strangled sound, breath hitching like he absolutely cannot help it.

"F–fuck," he whimpers, hips twitching up into your hand. "I love you. I'm so in love with you."

You lean down, nuzzling your nose against his cheek, voice soft and syrupy as you coo, "Yeah? You love me, Jakey?"

He nods fast, his chest rising and falling hard beneath you, completely gone for you already, and you hum sweetly like you're proud of him, almost like you're indulging a boy who's trying so hard to be good.

You tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, just enough to free his cock, and he lifts his hips obediently, still panting.

And when you finally pull him out, your eyes widen.

"Oh my god," you gasp, like you haven't seen him a hundred times before.

Jake lets out a breathless laugh, flushed and glowing with affection. "You do that every time," he grins.

You wrap your hand around him, giving one firm, languid stroke, eyes still fixed in reverence. "It shocks me every time."

Jake groans, both hands flying up to grip your hips now cause he needs to hold on to something, as if the worship in your voice is just as dangerous as your touch.

"Baby," he breathes, already dizzy, "please..."

His hands tighten on your hips. "My heart," he says, breathless but steady, "can you sit on it for me?"

Your brows lift in teasing surprise. "You asking nicely now?"

He leans up, kisses the swell of your breast before dragging his mouth to your neck. "Please," he murmurs against your skin.

You giggle, glancing down between your bodies where he's hard and leaking pre cum against your stomach. You drag your fingers over his tip and grin when he twitches. "Jakey, I don't know...it's so big. Not sure I can take it."

He lets out a full bodied groan and his hands shoot up to cover his face like your words physically broke something in him. "Fuck—don't say that."

You laugh, warm and wicked, and reach down to line him up with your pussy.

He peeks through his fingers at you, eyes dark and glassy. "You know what that does to me."

You lean in, kiss his jaw and whisper, "I do, baby." Slowly sinking yourself down on his cock, and Jake's mouth falls open around a gasp so needy it makes your stomach flip.

All his confidence and playboy charm melts into raw want for you. And you know he wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world, so when you settle fully on him with you clit nearly brushing his pubic bone, you gasp at the stretch like it's brand new, even though he's been inside you more times than you can count.

Jake watches with blown pupils, biting down on a groan as your walls flutter around him. You're breathless, clutching his shoulders, eyes glazed and already starting to tremble from how deep in your cunt he hits.

But it's still you who says it first, voice all sweet, whiny, and almost demanding. "Please fuck me, Jakey."

That’s truly all he needs and he doesn’t even hesitate, his hands lock under your thighs and he drives his cock up into you, fucking you from below with a pace so sharp it knocks the air from your lungs. The slap of skin on skin fills the room instantly, his hips pistoning up into yours like he's making up for every second he ever spent apart from you.

You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, clinging to him as your head tips back. “Oh!—Just like that, baby!”

"You take me so well," he pants, staring up at you with so much love and adoration. "Always do. So fucking good for me."

You can't even answer cause with every snap of his hips, your body jerking helplessly every time he hits that spot inside you just right and you're jus too far gone, moaning as your thighs start to tremble,

Your moans get higher, needier, and Jake just holds you tighter, fucking you harder like he knows you're getting close. “Ah—Shit! I love this pussy—I love you.”

And the you whimper his name in that high pitched tone, he already knows what’s coming.

"Jake...Jake, please..." He groans, lifting his whole body and head to kiss you through it, breath hot and desperate against your mouth.

His hand slips between your bodies without thinking too much, fingers finding that sensitive little clit and the moment he starts rubbing tight, practiced circles into it, your whole body jolts, your hips stutter as well as your breath.

"Jake—" you cry out, the sound thin and wrecked as your orgasm nears.

"I've got you," he says, voice husky and strained as he keeps thrusting up into you. "Come on, baby. Cum for me."

Your eyes roll back, mouth falling open as your walls clamp down hard around his cock. You never had a shot, not with his cock so deep and thick inside you, not with his fingers rubbing so deliciously at your clit.

Your orgasm slams into you with a force that makes your back arch and your nails dig into his shoulders, shaking as pleasure floods your veins. “Oh my—F-Fuck! Jake! I’m cumming! I’m cumming for you!”

You're moaning his name like it's the only word you know, clenching around him so tight he practically growls.

"Fuck—you're so tight—" Jake's hands grip your hips, fingers digging in. "Gonna cum, baby—gonna fill you up—"

He snaps his hips up one, two, three more times before burying himself deep with a sharp gasp, thick ropes of cum spilling inside you as he lets out a low, trembling groan against your shoulder. “Just like that, take it baby.”

His whole body tenses, as he continues to fuck his cum deeper into your pussy, before melting beneath you and wrapping his arms around your waist cause he needs to come back to earth.

You sit there on his cock, fucked out with your body is still twitching from aftershocks, then he sits up presses a soft kiss to your collarbone and speaks, almost dazed, "I love you. You know that right?."

Your chest heaves just like his as you try to catch your breath as well, your skin is dewy and flushed, thighs still trembling slightly where they cradle his hips. Jake lies beneath you, hair stuck to his forehead and completely ruined and glowing in the aftermath.

His cock stays buried inside you, still thick but it’s starting soften and warm from his and your cum.

Jake's eyes are barely open when you start to move again, just with slow and lazy rolls of your hips, like you're testing him, like you already miss the stretch. His eyes snap up to meet yours, wide and glassy.

"Baby..." he rasps, voice rough with the tail end of his orgasm. "Again?"

You nod, bottom lip between your teeth, hands planted firmly on his chest as you grind your hips just right. He twitches inside you, not fully hard yet again, but your walls squeeze around him like you're coaxing him back to life.

"Need you hard again, baby." You whisper, a little whine slipping into your voice. "Want more."

Jake actually groans but his hands flying to your waist regardless, it’s not to stop you, it’s to anchor himself.

"You're insatiable," he mutters, head dropping back on the pillow. "You know that?"

You giggle breathlessly, grinding down again. "But you like it, don’t you?"

He laughs, weak but wrecked, already feeling himself swell inside you again. "Fuck, of course I do, you know I do."

He’s already giving in, letting you use him, letting you move how you want, letting you chase what you need. Because you always take what you want from him and Jake fucking lives for it.

His finger squeeze your waist as your hips keep rocking against him, slow but hungry and so greedy, so fucking sweet about it, whining for more when he's still soft and sensitive. It has his head spinning.

"God, you're gonna kill me," he groans, voice low and shaky.

But you just smile down at him, hips grinding insistently, eyes all sparkly with mischief and need.

That's what does it.

He sits up with a sudden growl and grabs your thighs, flipping you onto your back in one smooth quick motion that makes you squeal and giggle. Before you can protest, he's sliding your leg up, hooking it over his shoulder and settling between your thighs again, his cock already twitching back to life as it presses against your slick pussy.

"Since you don't know when to stop..." he mutters, leaning over you, forehead pressed to yours, breath hot against your lips, "guess I'll have to fuck it out of you."

You gasp, fingers digging into his arms as he ruts forward slowly, stretching you out and you're still so wet and swollen around him from your first orgasm that he slips right back in. A shaky moan tumbles from your lips as he bottoms out, and Jake watches your face melt with satisfaction.

"There she is," he breathes, cupping your jaw. "Always so ready for me."

You try to sass him, you open your mouth with something smug, but then he draws his hips back and slams back in deep, and all you can do is cry out and clutch at his arms. “Jake! Fuck!”

He grins. "Yeah? You like that, baby?"

With your leg slung over his shoulder, every thrust drives his cock in at a perfect, punishing angle, he’s so deep it punches the air from your lungs, makes your head tilt back and your fingers claw down his back.

"Yes Jake—"

He groans low at the sound of his name from your lips, fucking in harder and rougher now, one hand gripping your thigh, the other pressing down beside your head.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, voice wrecked and breathless. "You feel so good—so tight, still?"

You're barely holding on, moaning so high and needy with your eyes fluttering. "Because I want you all the time," you whisper, drunk on the stretch and the rhythm of him. "Wanna fuck all the time."

Jake curses, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. "That's fucking insane," he gasps, his hips jerking for a moment. "You're—Fuck."

You hold him tighter, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as your leg slips from his grip, both feet now planted flat so you can rock up to meet every thrust. Your mouths meet in a messy kiss, full of panting breaths and whispered "I love you"s between the moans as he fucks you into the sheets.

You gasp, "Oh baby, please don't stop," he just nods frantically, already lost in you all over again.

His thrusts slow as he feels your body start to tighten again, that telltale tremble of both your orgasms building. You're gasping his name, legs shaking on either side of his hips, hands gripping at his arms so hard he’s sure you’re gonna leave marks.

"That's it, baby," he pants, breath hot against your cheek as he presses his forehead to yours. "You gonna cum for me again? I can feel it—fuck, you're squeezing me so tight—"

Your nails dig into his shoulders and your voice breaks. "Jake—Jake—I'm—"

He doesn't let up his thrust, he continues to fuck his cock into your cunt deeper and faster. "Make you cum for me. Let me feel it."

Your back arches, mouth falling open in a soundless cry, and then it hits again and your whole body jolts as you gush your release around him, warmth flooding between your legs. Jake groans, deep and raw, watching you as it happens.

"Holy shit, baby—look at you," he breathes, eyes glued to where your bodies meet. His fingers slip down instinctively, sliding through the mess of cum and squirt and pushing two inside you with ease, curling them so deep, you jerk under him, overstimulated, crying out, but he's grinning like he's the one being worshipped.

"Yeah baby," he rasps, fucking his fingers into your cunt so fast and deep, he's coaxing out every last tremble, every aftershock. "You're so fucking perfect—fuck, I love when you do that."

You're whining, twitching beneath him, but not stopping him either and he knows you won't, especially when you don't even pause to catch your breath. You're already pushing up, hands slipping against his sweat-slick skin, eyes glassy and blown wide with lust.

"Baby—" he starts, but you're pushing him on his back again and wrapping your mouth around his cock in one desperate and hungry motion.

Jake chokes on a moan, his head falling back with a thud against the pillow. "F—fuck, baby..."

You're still shaking from your own orgasm, but your mouth sucks him so good with your lips stretched wide and your eyes fluttering shut as you take his cock deeper in your throat that tightens around him. He's still wet from you, slick and throbbing on your tongue, and the mix of it all makes your head spin.

"Jesus—shit," Jake growls, both hands fisting in your hair as he begins thrusting into your throat, fast and controlled, his hips twitching as he groans through his teeth.

"You're—fuck—you're gonna make me cum," he breathes, voice strained, eyes locked on the obscene sight of you between his legs with your cheeks hollowed, looking so fucking pretty even now.

You hum around him, fingers digging into his thighs for balance, tears prickling at your lashes as he hits the back of your throat again and again. He swears under his breath, tightening his grip in your hair, one hand cupping the back of your head as he starts to move a little rougher, chasing that high you're dragging out of him like it's yours.

"Fuck—just like that—don't stop—don't—"

"Y/n—Baby." He groans, jerking into your mouth as he cums hard, hips stuttering, holding your head down on him while he spills down your throat.

His hands fall away, and you finally pull back, swallowing his cum with a soft gasp. Your lips are swollen and your cheeks are flushed but you're smiling up at him cause to you, you've done nothing out of the ordinary.

"Holy shit," he whispers, grinning up as you flop half on top of him and on the bed.

His skin is warm, still damp from sweat, and his voice is soft and sweet when he starts talking.

"We should go to the farmer's market tomorrow," he says through breaths, turning his face toward you with a sleepy smile. "Get that jelly you like. Maybe brunch after...or just come back and stay in bed all day."

You hum in agreement, eyes half-lidded as you turn to face him. "Mhm. That sounds perfect."

He's still talking, "We could also check out that new restaurant you wanted to try—" Then he feels your leg slides over his, bare skin gliding against his thigh as you spread yourself open beside him. His voice stutters, pauses, but he doesn't think much of it until your hand finds his.

Still speaking so sweetly, like he doesn't even notice what's happening, Jake continues, "And maybe get stuff for dinner too. We could try that new reci—"

You take his hand and slowly guide it down your stomach, between your thighs...but instead of stopping on your pussy like he expects, you slide his fingers just a little further back.

He stops talking and his brows knit. "Wait..." he breathes, lifting himself onto one elbow to look down at where you're gently positioning him, not quite shy, but quiet.

"Oh?" His voice lifts a little, soft and surprised, fingers frozen in place.

"Here?" he asks, tilting his head, eyes searching your face.

You nod, biting your lip, pupils wide, cheeks heated, just the tiniest bit nervous but far more excited. Jake's heart patters at the sight.

He blinks, then lets out the softest, most reverent little, "Fuck," as his fingers twitch against your hole.

He goes still for a second before glancing down at you with a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jake huffs a soft laugh, rubbing his fingers gently where you've placed him. "You really want that again?"

Your lips part in a quiet sigh. "Mhm. Haven't stopped thinking about it."

He grunts in his throat, already adjusting his position to hover over you, his hand still between your thighs. "God, baby...you're unbelievable."

"Please," you whisper.

Jake leans down, kissing your neck with a grin. "Okay, baby."

Jake does exactly what you ask without question, without teasing this time, without dragging it out. Just the steady glide of his fingers, slick with you, working your hole open with practiced care. He knows what you like now. Knows how to curve them just right, how much pressure to apply, when to slow down and when to ruin you.

You're shaking under him, body arching, fists gripping at the sheets. Your eyes flutter back and your mouth falls open but no real words are coming out, just breathy, broken sounds that melt into helpless little moans.

"Fuck, princess," Jake breathes, watching your face like he's obsessed. "Look at you."

You're drooling and you don't even care. Your brain's gone soft and syrupy, babbling nonsense, hiccupping between whines. "So full...s'too good, Jake— I—"

"You can," he murmurs, curling his fingers deeper. "You asked for it, baby."

You whimper hard at that, thighs squeezing around his hand.

Jake leans down, kissing your jaw, your ear, whispering all the filth you crave like praise. "My pretty girl. So greedy for me, huh? Couldn't even wait. Got your fill twice and now you want more."

"Need it," you mewl, "need you— please, please—"

"You have me," he says, voice thick devout as he strokes his own cock back to life, and pushes it in your hole just enough to have you gasping again, moaning as your body clenches hard around his cock.

His thrusts start slow, so deep into you and deliberate, loving the way you squeeze around him and trying not to lose it too fast. Every push forward is a grind of his hips and a filthy exhale against your skin.

But then he hears that sweet little whine you make and he feels your fingers dig into his back, he loses all his patience.

"That's it, baby," His voice is shaking. "Doing so good."

Then his pace starts to speed up, his hips snap harder and sharper. Each thrust makes the pressure mount, your breath hitching as your body rocks forward with every stroke. He holds you firmly, one hand pressing into the mattress, the other one at your hip—dragging you down so his cock can slide deeper and deeper into your ass.

The drag of him against your walls is so intense, even his hips are starting to jerk erratically in their movements, his body slick with sweat, every nerve in him frayed and completely on fire, but he doesn't stop. He can't. Not when you're shaking like this beneath him with tears in your eyes from how good he’s fucking you, so good that you're clawing at him.

He's already come twice and his body sore and overstimulated, but none of it matters cause he has to make you cum one time.

"C'mon, princess," he pants into your neck, his voice is bordering on a little whimper now, "need you to cum for me—give it to me, yeah?"

You nod, your fingers digging into his back. "Jake—I'm—I'm close—"

"I know," he says, sliding a hand between your bodies, thumb immediately circling your clit just the way he knows you like it as he continues to fuck your ass faster and harder, his rhythm never faltering even when his whole body twitches from the overstimulation.

"Fuck—!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut, thighs locking around him.

Jake moans when he feels you start to clench again, the grip of your body making him curse into your skin. "That's it. Just like that. Be good for me, baby—cum for me."

Your body listens to him and you cum so hard and loud, you’re nearly sobbing through it, your whole body shaking as you gush your release around him again.

Jake groans like he's in pain and pleasure all at once, overstimulated out of his mind but still working his thumb through your orgasm, riding it out with you, whispering, "That's my girl. So good for me. So good."

He's trembling too, face buried in your neck, still inside you, still twitching, but all he cares about is the way you're still falling apart in his arms.

"You've got one more in you," Jake whispers, lips brushing your cheek. "I know you do. Be good for me, baby. Just one more, yeah?"

You're still shaking with how hard your third orgasm just rocked you, but you nod, because you know he knows exactly how to touch you that’ll have that fourth orgasm he wants dragged it out of you.

"You know," he says, lips curling into something darker, "the guys still think you're some sweet little thing who doesn't even let me touch her."

Your eyes snap open.

"They really think I'm suffering over here. Poor Jake, dating the world's most innocent girl," he chuckles in your ear, his fingers pressing harder, cock thrusting faster and faster just the way you need. "Wonder what they'd say if they saw you like this."

"Jake—" you gasp, nails raking down his back. "Don't— don't say that—"

"Why not?" he groans, barely holding on himself. "Look at you. Fucking soaked for me. Begging me to fuck your ass. Taking my cock like this—over and over."

You're gone, completely unraveling under him with your hips bucking, your back arching and a scream caught in your throat as you fall apart, wet and messy and uncontrollable.

Jake watches it all with a dark, fucked out smile, his lips on your cheek as he whispers, "Yeah...real fucking innocent, huh?" His words slam into you like a wave. You arch off the bed, fingers tangling in the sheets, mouth falling open in an enraptured cry.

"Fuck!" you sob, hips bucking involuntarily around his hand and his cock. "Oh god—Jake—"

You're shuddering and everything going white at the edges, and then you cum again, for the fourth time. You squirt around his fingers and cock again, every muscle spasming as you cry out his name again and again, lost in the release.

Jake drops his mouth right where you’re squirting so he can get some into his mouth and suck down on your clit, to guide you through each quaking wave. One of his hands trails back to finger your ass while the other one strokes his cock until he cums into the sheets.

“Yes baby—Oh shit!”

His tongue keeps tracing delicate patterns over your clit and your whole pussy that keep you teetering on the edge even as you ride out your climax before pulling back and looking down at you.

When you look up at him, he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out, then he drapes himself over you, chest slick against yours, breath heavy and shallow as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

"Baby..." he starts, boneless and spent. "You're insane."

You giggle, tracing lazy circles along the curve of his spine, still catching your own breath.

He gave you everything, held you down and pulled you apart until your body trembled under his, until he had nothing left to give. And now he's here, lips brushing your collarbone with every exhale, trying to hang on to consciousness.

"We should try double penetration." You say, running your fingers through his hair and feeling his body stiffen at your words as his head lifts slightly to look into your eyes.

"What?"

You grin. "You know. Your cock and a dildo. Just once."

Jake's eyes flutter close and open again, the look he gives you is somewhere between bewilderment and disbelief. His mouth opens like maybe he wants to say something, but doesn't even know where to start.

"Princess," he breathes, collapsing back down on top of you with a dramatic groan. "You might actually kill me one day."

You hum sweetly, threading your fingers through his damp hair. "You'd like it."

"I know I would. That's the problem." He grins against your skin. "Let me survive tonight first."

You laugh, soft and warm beneath him, already thinking about which toy you'll pick and feeling his breathing go even.

He falls asleep like that, with his arms wrapped around you, utterly spent, murmuring something about needing to train for you like it's a sport. And as you run your fingers through his hair, smiling to yourself, one thing's crystal clear.

Jake's friends have no idea just how completely undone he is by you.

➺ a/n: who wants a boyfriend like jake? MEEEEE!!!!

[straykeedz-recs]

Five More Minutes | [B.C]

pairing : bangchan x fem!reader | 640 w. genre : smut [18+] warnings: oral sex, other boys present but they don't know it's happening

"You said 'In five minutes' five minutes ago, hyung. Please," Felix's voice is pleading from where he stands in Chan's bedroom doorway. He'd come over to the apartment just to play game with him and Jeongin - and the eldest was being stubborn and refusing to pull away from his work.

Sat at his desk, one leg bouncing and his hands typing idly at his laptop keyboard, Chan spares Felix a small glance. It's hesitant and he sighs out the moment his eyes lay on the younger who looks desperate for some gaming time. "I said, five minutes, Felix."

"Hyung, you've been working for at least the last few hours. Can't you just take a thirty minute break?"

Jeongin's voice is soft as he peeks in over Felix's shoulder. The two younger men stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame and peering in at the oldest who still refuses to budge; Hunched over his desk, posture so bad it makes Felix's back ache just looking at him. At least he looks somewhat comfortable in his big 'ol hoodie and sweats that drape off him like curtains they're so big.

Chan's hands curl against his keyboard. His breathing falters for just a moment and he sucks his lower lip into his mouth as if he's thinking it over. The corner of his lips is caught between his teeth, breath hitching once more before he finally gives them an answer.

"Five more minutes and then I promise, I'll be done."

Felix's eyes roll but he gives a small smile. It wasn't unlike Chan to want to wrap up his work before he left it - unlike Jisung who could just up and dip whenever he wanted without worrying about his files.

"Okay, okay! Five minutes and then we crush him in Mario Kart." Felix's fingers curl in Jeongin's shirt, gently tugging to get him to follow. The youngest trails behind his hyung, giggling under his breath at the way they'd gotten Chan to give in - Somewhat. At least he promised this time; Only five more minutes.

But Chan didn't really need that whole five minutes.

Because he was already filling your throat full of his cum.

His hands flexed against the polished wood of his desk, pinkie knocking into his mouse as he looks down at his lap. He leans back in his chair for the first time, the action causing his cock to slip out of your mouth slowly. You pull back just enough to look up at him, his cum dripping from your lips to streak down your chin.

"There's my girl." Your boyfriend coos, his hand pressing over your cheek. His thumb glides across your lower lip, wiping your mouth clean with a soft smile before his teeth sink into his own bottom lip. Seeing you like this - eyes teary from being held down on his cock when he leaned over to hide you from the boys earlier, cheeks flushed and lips swollen from sucking him off. The way spit clings around your mouth because you'd been choking and drooling all over him while he sat in your throat.

Chan sighs out, his head slowly tipping to the side as he watches you gasp for breath. "God, you're going to be the death of me." His thumb slides further into your mouth, gently pushing down on your tongue to watch spit pool around it - dripping out and onto his cock.

His eyes dart down, watching himself twitch and ache for more. You peek down as well and whimper, tipping your head to rest your cheek against his thigh. His free hand dips down to push at his sweats - tugging them just a little lower so you can have a better look as if you weren't just choking on it.

"Alright," Chan's gaze wanders back to the bedroom doorway. He sucks in a breath, slow and drawn out as he hums low in his chest. "Maybe a little more than five minutes."

Thank you for reading!

[straykeedz-recs]

Movie Night snack

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Leeknow x Fem!Reader

Summary: She just can‘t help it…. she loves her favorite snack…..

Warnings: Ball Worship ?????? SMUT

A/N: Sorry but like the thought of sucking Leeknows balls is kinda terrorizing my Mind right now :(

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Movie Night.

For most couples, that meant snacks, a blanket, and maybe a little cuddle time. For Lee Know, it meant something else now.

Because you?

You had a… very particular obsession.

His balls.

At first, he hadn’t even known that was a thing. That a person could be so focused, so absolutely starved for that one part of him.

But now?

Now he couldn’t unsee it.

The way your body tensed against his whenever you curled up into his arms, when he was only in sweats. The way your eyes would flick down to his lap mid-dialogue. The way you’d shift closer, face tilted down toward his waistband like you were just waiting for an excuse to pounce.

He never got mad.

In fact, by the third time you started squirming in his lap like that, he already knew what you wanted. No words needed.

He just spread his legs a little wider.

“Go on,” he muttered, voice lazy, one arm thrown behind his head. “Do your thing.”

And just like that, movie night became your favorite ritual.

You slid down from his lap and knelt between his legs on the floor, tugging at the waistband of his sweats like you were unwrapping a present. The kind of present you knew was perfect. Heavy. Warm. Yours.

His cock flopped free but you barely spared it a glance — you weren’t here for that. Not tonight. Not to get you wrong, his cock was huge too but….. your real fixation sat right beneath it.

Two perfect, full, soft balls — warm from his body heat, already slightly tight with arousal, and yours to touch, lick, worship.

You let out a happy hum as your hands cradled them gently, like they were something sacred. Your nose nuzzled into the space between them as you exhaled, lips ghosting over the skin.

“Fuck,” Lee Know groaned above you, already tense, already breathing deeper. “You’re so weird. You know that?”

You smiled against him. “You love it.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t.”

You did love it. Everything about them. Their weight in your hands. The way they tightened when he got more worked up. The way he couldn’t stop twitching above you when you took one into your mouth, slowly, swirling your tongue around it with devotion.

The movie played on, but you didn’t notice it anymore. Your whole world was between his thighs. You licked a line beneath them, sucked one gently into your mouth, then the other, hands stroking lightly at his cock just to make him twitch.

“God, you’re good at that,” he muttered, voice a little ragged now.

You popped off one ball and looked up, grinning.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“Wouldn’t you be? I mean, these are huge.” You cupped them both with both hands and gave them a soft bounce. “You should need a license to carry these around in public.”

He snorted, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re so fucking lucky I like you.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t sucked you dry through your balls yet.”

His cock twitched. His stomach tensed.

You buried your face back between his legs, dragging your tongue slowly along the seam, licking like it was your favorite snack. You loved the way he reacted — helplessly, biting back moans. Loved how he got shaky when you started using more tongue, hollowing your cheeks around the base of one and gently tugging.

Your hands kneaded them like something precious. You massaged the weight, feeling every twitch and shift in tension, every reaction you could draw from him.

One of his hands found your hair, not guiding, just holding. Like he needed to touch you to survive it.

And then—

“You’re not gonna stop until I cum just from this, are you?”

You looked up, your lips still glossy with spit.

“That’s the goal.”

He stared at you.

Then exhaled a low, broken sound that wasn’t quite a moan, wasn’t quite a laugh — more like disbelief.

He stared at you.

Then exhaled a low, broken sound that wasn’t quite a moan, wasn’t quite a laugh — more like disbelief.

But you didn’t wait for approval.

You smiled and dipped back down, dragging your tongue slowly across the seam again like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t just threatened to ruin him with your mouth alone.

Your hands stayed gentle, warm palms cradling his balls like they were breakable — no rush, no pressure. Just reverence. Your thumbs made small, slow circles over the skin while your tongue worked in lazy swipes, alternating between long licks and soft, wet kisses. You sucked one back into your mouth and let it rest there, rolling it against your tongue with a soft moan, eyes fluttering shut like you were sinking into a favorite song.

Above you, Lee Know melted.

His head dropped back against the couch. A deep, slow exhale poured from his lungs. One hand stayed draped over the back of the sofa, and the other was tangled in your hair — not tugging, not guiding, just holding. Like he needed you there.

The movie kept playing.

Neither of you cared.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, breath hitching as your tongue flattened again. “My crazy little pervert…”

You giggled against him, lips sticky with spit. He felt the vibration straight to his spine.

You could feel it in his thighs now — the little tremors, the shallow tension. His cock twitched above you again, untouched, already leaking steadily at the tip. You let your thumb graze it once, just enough to make his hips shift.

“I could just…” you whispered, kissing beneath him, “…stay down here forever.”

He groaned. “Yeah, well, if you keep that up, I’m gonna come. And I haven’t even been touched.”

“That’s the point.”

He opened his mouth to argue — and then you sucked one of his balls back into your mouth and flicked your tongue just right, slow and focused, and—

He choked on a breath.

His stomach clenched.

His fingers tightened in your hair.

“Wait—fuck, wait, I’m gonna���”

You didn’t wait.

You hummed.

And it was over.

His whole body went tight — then slack — as he came without warning, untouched, just from the way you worshipped him. His hips lifted slightly, a stuttered gasp tumbling from his mouth, cock jerking against his stomach as hot release painted his skin. You held his balls gently, kept your mouth soft and warm around them as he rode it out, his breath coming in broken little groans, one hand fisting the couch cushion like he was drowning.

He came so hard, it left him boneless.

And when it finally stopped, you kissed him once — soft and slow — before resting your cheek against his thigh, nuzzling him with a happy little hum.

Lee Know blinked at the ceiling, completely wrecked.

“You’re fucking evil,” he mumbled.

You giggled and kissed his inner thigh. “You say that like I didn’t just make you come hands-free.”

“Exactly.”

He groaned again, ran his hand down to your cheek, and stroked it tenderly — still out of breath, still trying to process what the hell just happened.

You looked up at him with a sweet, innocent smile, even as your lips and chin glistened with spit.

“You okay?” you asked.

“No,” he said, “You broke me.”

His stomach was a mess — sticky and glistening — and he reached lazily for the throw blanket draped over the couch to wipe himself down.

He was still wiping when he noticed you hadn’t moved.

In fact, you were shifting closer again, hands already sneaking up between his thighs, your mouth opening like you were about to go back in.

“Wait—” he blinked at you, brows lifting, “Are you serious right now?”

You looked up, all wide-eyed and sweet. “What? I’m just getting comfy.”

“You just emptied me.”

You kissed the inside of his thigh again, dragging your tongue just shy of where you’d started earlier.

“And I was really good at it.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem.”

He let out a groan and flopped his head back onto the couch cushions as you continued — gentle licks, soft hands, greedy eyes — like you didn’t just ruin him five minutes ago.

“If you keep doing that,” he muttered, dragging the blanket halfheartedly over his stomach, “nothing’s gonna come out anymore. You’re gonna kill my balls.”

You smiled against his skin, shameless and glowing.

“It’s my favorite thing to do during movie nights, though.”

He sighed. Loudly.

“I should’ve just gotten popcorn.”

[straykeedz-recs]

LOVE MAZE — 심재윤

An unfortunate encounter, drunken mistakes, and a sort of (definitely) stalker lead to Sim Jaeyun 'dating' his best friend's childhood crush!

or, your life gets intertwined with a rich boy’s in an attempt to not get sued by his crazy personal fangirl and like with all good cliches, sex overcomplicates things. 

pairing — trust fund baby!jake x college student fem!reader

word count — tbd (ongoing)

genre — college au, frat boys!enhypen, (failed) fake dating trope, SMUT MDNI

content — sort of strangers to fuck buddies to lovers pipeline, childhood best friend!jay, mentions of oc!yeji as your best friend, curly haired reader, rich nepo baby!jake, 02z are rich in general, lots of kissing, fake dating turning into fwb real quick, totally way too into it for it to be fake early on, baddie reader (per usual – fat ass, perky tits) that’s jake’s obsessed with, reader described as smaller than jake, smut smut smut!, partying and alcohol use, slight violence, he fell first and harder trope, stem bf & writer gf, (kinda overly) possessive jake, some angst to spice things up, daddy issues, hyper independent reader who struggles with her feelings, fluff and happy ending cause im terrible at angst!! 

note — another basic fake dating trope bc they will always be like crack to me! kinda straight forward, i’m mostly talking out of my ass about the rich boy aspect (my sources are crazy rich asians and xo kitty atp) so dont think about it too much. i honestly dont know if this was originally supposed to be based in korea in my head when i first started writing it but lets make up a pretend land thats not “the west” where they have frats at their universities for plot sake. okay that’s it, any necessary warnings will be posted at the start of each chapter, pls make sure to like, repost, comment and interact !! tysm and enjoy :D

LOVE MAZE MASTERLIST !

00 — pineapple

01 — intoxicating

02 — contract

03 — firsts

04 — relationships

05 — exs

06 — camping trip

07 — bets

08 — jealousy

+ more to come

[straykeedz-recs]

⍣ ೋ cw: Terminal illness, character death, anticipatory grief, hospital setting, references to emotional regret, and depictions of silent mourning. Please read with care.

notes: this was requested! i know i've said that i wouldn't write character death but the requestor asked for "heart wrenching angst" and this was the saddest thing i could think of.

“It’s okay, baby. You can rest now.”

You hear him before you feel him. His voice, warm and low, breaking at the edges. Then the slow, familiar weight of his hand curling around yours. Calloused, trembling.

The machines are quieter now. The room, too. The nurses had whispered something about giving you both privacy, and then they were gone. Just the steady beeping. Just him.

Chan.

You can’t open your eyes. Haven’t been able to for a while now. But you feel him. Every breath. Every word.

He leans in, presses his forehead to yours. And even though you can’t see it, you know he’s crying.

“You’ve fought so hard, baby,” he murmurs, like it hurts him to say it. “So damn hard. I’m so proud of you.”

You want to squeeze his hand. Tell him you’re sorry. That you didn’t want this either.

But your fingers don’t move.

“You don’t have to keep fighting,” he says, voice cracking. “You’ve given me everything. I’m so grateful. Just—just rest now, okay? It’s okay to go.”

A pause. Then—

“God,” he chokes, “I don’t know what the fuck I’m saying.”

His lips brush your knuckles.

“I don’t know how to be without you.”

The words land heavy. Like bricks. Like grief already settling in his lungs before you’re even gone.

“What do I do?” he whispers. “You were supposed to be here. At the end of every tour. Every stupid award show. Every night I needed someone to remind me who the hell I am.”

You feel it—his hand clutching tighter. His voice rising just a little.

“Please, don’t go. Not yet. Just—just give me one more day. One more hour. One more smile baby, please.”

His forehead presses harder against yours, like he’s trying to fuse you together. Like if he just holds you close enough, he can stop time. Reverse it. Rewrite it.

But there’s no miracle this time.

No comeback.

No more time.

“I thought I had more,” he says, voice so quiet it’s nearly a breath. “More days. More ways to show you I loved you.”

You can hear him trying to hold it together. Swallowing the sobs. The gasps. The panic.

“I was gonna propose, you know?” he confesses, with a shaky little laugh that sounds like it's breaking open his chest. “Bought the ring months ago. Just… kept waiting for the right moment.”

His thumb brushes along your knuckles, back and forth, back and forth. Gentle. Steady. Like a habit he doesn't know how to break.

“Fucking idiot,” he whispers, not to you—but to himself.

Another breath. It catches somewhere in his chest.

“You would've said yes, right?” he asks, quieter now. “You would've stayed.”

There's no answer. Just the soft hum of the machines beside you. The slow, dragging rhythm of a heartbeat that’s starting to slip between the seconds.

Chan presses a kiss to your temple, and his lips linger there. Motionless.

“I hope you felt loved,” he says. “Even when I was gone. Even when I didn’t say it.”

The monitor stutters. Once.

Then again.

And then—flatlines.

No dramatic alarms. No panicked rush of nurses. Just the sound fading out. The weight of your body going still in his arms.

His hand stays wrapped around yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t blink.

He just breathes in shallow, uneven pulls—like he’s afraid to exhale. Like letting go of that one breath might mean letting go of you completely.

And then his shoulders fall.

No sound.

Just that.

He lowers his head against your pillow, cheek resting beside yours. Eyes squeezed shut. Tears slipping soundlessly down his face, soaking into the same sheets that still hold your warmth.

His fingers keep holding yours, even though your hand is slack now.

Even though you're gone.

And in the quiet that follows, he doesn’t break. Not all at once.

He just… crumbles. Slowly.

Quietly.

Alone.

[straykeedz-recs]

2:00 am

(jake & heeseung - enhypen)

genre: college au

description: heeseung, jake and you have been best friends since forever, going off to the same college and even sharing an apt together. Finding time to relieve yourself can be difficult, especially living with other people since you don't want to be caught but what if it was your best friend? What if they offered to help you out in the name of being best friends and that they always help each other out no matter the situation.

5.3k words

warnings: 18+, hard smut, breeding/creampie, double penetration, anal, eating out, nipple play, some cock warming, overstim, masturbation, getting caught, use of sex toys, pet names, best friends to lovers kinda?? they just wanna fuck one another

a/n: hello hello, it's been a while since i've posted something but I had a request for a heejake x reader smut and decided why not? this is probably the longest smut i've ever worked on, it's pretty filthy lmao but as always i hope you enjoy and send me any requests! :)

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The three of you had been sharing an apartment ever since they finally let you move out of the dorms your freshman year. Jake, Heeseung and you had been friends since basically forever. Everyone always said how you guys were basically attached at the hip and did everything together.

When senior year rolled around, you guys couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from one another, going to different schools so you guys agreed to apply to the same schools. Luckily fate was on your guys side and you all got accepted into the same school. 

Though you guys did have have your occasional fights and bickering, you couldn’t imagine yourself anywhere else. You all complemented each other very well and meshed together. Since you were broke college students, you obviously couldn’t splurge for the nicest apartment but you guys managed to find a 2 bedroom for an amazing price. Jake and Heeseung shared a room and they gave you the honors of having your own bedroom. 

It was great having your own room, it was decorated the way you wanted and was the perfect place for when Heeseung and Jake started getting a little too annoying. The talk of significant others and hookups came often as you would all ask each other if you could bring back someone home. Hearing the main door close and open plus the shuffling of feet. Then hearing the bedroom door close shut and the noise of the bed hitting against the wall echoing throughout the apartment. 

Jake was notorious for bringing girls back home to the apartment for his late night hookups. Considering he was at frat parties so often it was basically like was apart of a fraternity. At least once a week he was coming home with a new girl, to which he would send a text ahead of time and which meant Heeseung and you would be roomates for the night. On the other hand Heeseung wasn’t much of a hookup culture guy although his looks could say otherwise, he only par took in them occasionally. He preferred to stay in and do whatever activity he pleased over finding some girl to hookup with. Though with you, you never really participated in hookups. Only having had one serious boyfriend in your lifetime it was just something that didn’t interest you. 

Though that didn’t mean you we’re a complete angel. Hidden in the nightstand next to your bed was your collection of toys. When the guys were out of the apartment, it was your time for your fix. Thankfully you’d never been caught by Jake or Heeseung but have had very close calls. Just last week when they we’re both out of the house, you we’re riding your dildo using your vibrator, so close to hitting your peak. “Fuck” you had moaned throwing your head back. You kept the vibrator on your clit as you could feel your stomach bubbling. “Ima cum soon” you whimpered out to yourself. That’s when you heard keys moving and the main door open. You had forgotten to lock your bedroom door and there was a 50/50 chance that Heeseung would pop in. Immediately lunging up, you shut the door and locked it. That was an extremely close call. Ever since then you were extremely careful and planned out when you we’re going to masturbate to minimize the chance of them potentially walking in on you. Though as of recently they we’re home a lot more then usual and it was starting to drive you slightly insane. You hadn’t been able to find a chance to relieve yourself and it was starting to get to you. 

“ You okay?” Jake asked tilting his head. 

“I’m okay” you muttered “Just slightly irritated is all.” 

“Hmmm well what’s irritating you?” 

“Ah it’s nothing, don’t worry I’ll take care of it” 

“It doesn’t seem like nothing but if you ever need help, Heeseung and me always here for whatever it is” 

That night you lied in your bed wondering what the hell Jake meant by that. The way he had said “for whatever it is” your imagination started running wild. Did he know? Could he tell?  So many questions swirled around inside your head. Did he mean something else with different intentions? “No, this is stupid” you thought to yourself “How could I think that one of my bestest friends wanted to fuck me? Don’t be stupid” You snapped out of it and turned over on your bed and looked at the clock 2:00am. Everyone was asleep by now, so it was either going to be now or never. You looked over at your door to make sure it was closed and started slowly opened your nightstand to reveal your array of toys. 

It’d been so long since you last masturbated that you we’re becoming impatient fumbling around grabbing a toy. You quietly slid down your pants making sure that you weren’t making any noise that Jake and Heeseung could hear from the other room. You then slipped off your underwear throwing it to the side of the bed. Reaching your hand down, you started rubbing your clit. You pratically moaned at how good it felt since it’d been so long. Quickening your pace, you grew wetter and wetter. 

Moving your hand down to grab some of your arousal to continue rubbing your cilt. The noises your body were making were so lewd, that in the back of your mind you we’re praying that Heeseung or Jake wouldn’t wake up. As you continued rubbing your clit, an aching feeling grew in your core, the feeling of needing to be stuffed. You reached over to grab your dildo and aglined up with your entrance, slowly pushing it in.

It’d been a while so the stretch was a little uncomfortable but not unwelcome. Gasping at how good it felt, you continued to warm up to it until it fully slipped in. Slowly moving it in and out you started to quicken the pace. Rubbing your clit at the same time you could feel your mind slowly slipping.

Needing to bite your tongue to keep your whimpers in, you continued moving the dildo at a quickened pace. “Fuck” you whispered out, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer with the warm feeling quickly growing in your stomach. You kept going at a relentless pace, the tip of the dildo rubbing over your g-spot with every thrust. “FuckFuckFuck” you continued whispering out. The feeling in your stomach getting tighter by the second. 

While almost getting to the brink of your climax that’s when you failed to hear footsteps walking towards your door. Heeseung woke up groggy in the middle of the night, looking at his phone he saw that it was 2:00am. He set his phone back down and got out of bed to use the restroom. In his groggy state he used the restroom and went over to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and that’s when he heard it. He saw that the lights in your room we’re still dimly on and could hear noise coming from your room. He found it odd since you would usually have your lights off by this time. Finishing his glass of water, he started walking over to your room. 

He could hear noise from your room but couldn’t exactly make out what it was. Since you guys we’re so close with one another you usually didn’t have to knock on each others doors. If the doorknob was locked that’s when you knew the other person wanted privacy. That’s when Heesung opened the door, watching you about to hit your climax. He stood there frozen like a statue realizing what he had just walked into. It was too late for you stop when out of the corner of your eye you saw your bedroom door swing open, looking at Heeseung standing in your doorframe dumbfounded. 

“Fuck” you moaned out as you reached your peak arching your back off the bed. Not being able to stop you continued riding your high out until you came down from your peak. You then embarrassed reached to grab your blankets and quickly throw them over yourself. You could feel the heat on your face growing stronger from the embarrassment of getting caught. 

“Can I help you?” you breathe out slightly panting. 

“Uhmm…uhmmm” Heeseung stammers out, as his face slowly grows bright red. 

Not being able to get the words out of his mouth he steps back and slams the door shut. 

“Oh my fucking god, no way” Heeseung whispers panickedly as he rushes back to his room. He sat on the corner of his bed and processed what he just saw. You, balls deep with your dildo hitting your peak. Remembering you moaning as you reached your peak, not stopping even though he opened the door and watched what you we’re doing. The way your back arched from the bed and the way you couldn’t stop fucking yourself even when you reached your peak made Heeseung’s mind completely lose train of thought. Although he didn’t want to admit it he was turned on and found it arousing. 

Sure he always thought you we’re cute and found you attractive but never thought of pushing your guys relationship past only being best friends. Though something in his mind flipped when he saw you cumming on your bed. It was the first time he thought of wanting something more and wanted to push the boundaries of your friendship. Hearing the noise of the bedroom shut and whisper panicking from the other corner of the room, Jake also woke up from his sleep slightly panicked. 

“Hey, Heeseung what’s wrong?” He asks with a raspiness in his throat

“I can’t believe I just saw that” Heeseung says as he puts his hands up to his face. 

“What man? What happened?” 

“It’s so awkward, I don’t even know if I can tell you” 

“You know damn well there’s no awkward thing you can say in this friendship, what happened?” 

You lied under your covers completely mortified about what had just happened. You couldn’t believe that Heeseung had just caught you masturbating and literally caught you at the worst part too. You don’t even know how you we’re going to face him after this, praying a hole would open up on your bed and swallow you whole to save you from the embarrassment. “Fuck and of course it’s when I haven’t done it for a while either” you groan throwing your head back. 

“And that’s what happened” Heeeung says finally removing his hands from his face, red still decorating his face. 

“No way, oh my god” Jake laughs slightly “That must’ve been so awkward” 

“I was literally frozen dude, I couldn’t move at all, all I could do was watch” 

“Oh my god” Jake continues to laugh “But tell me this” getting slightly more serious “... was it hot…?” 

“We’re all best friends for fucks sake, I can’t be thinking like this”

“Listen, I know it’s weird but you can’t tell me you haven’t at least had the thought cross your mind?” 

“... I mean, I won’t lie and say I haven’t but still” 

“ I mean cmon Hee haven’t you seen when she walks around the apartment in those tiny ass shorts or when she wears those tight shirts with her boobs almost spilling out?” 

“..... yes….” 

“And you got hard watching her cum, right?” Jake says pointing at Heeseung’s obvious hard-on. “Listen, I told her if she needed help with anything to let us know and we can obviously tell she needs help right now so now’s the perfect opportunity” 

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we just leave her alone I’m pretty sure she’s embarrassed” 

“She’s gonna be embarrassed regardless, might as well face the problem right now” 

“I hope your right” 

Jake and Heeseung get up and off the bed and start heading towards your room. You hear the footsteps leading towards your bedroom and curse “Fuck what could he want now” you groan not wanting to lift the sheets from up off your face. That’s when you heard a knocking from your door “can I come in?” you hear Heeseung from the other side of the door. You roll your eyes “What’s the fucking point of knocking on the door anymore” you think to yourself “Yes cmon in”. That’s when you see two people enter the room instead of one. You were even more mortified no fucking way Heeseung told Jake about this too. “HEESEUNG” you yelled out “You told him??” 

“Im sorry, I was panicking, and Jake asked what was wrong and I couldn’t hold it in” Heeseung said rubbing the back of his neck. Though on the other hand Jake was looking at you with a stern look. Worried about what he was going to say, you avoided making eye contact with him. “I thought I told you if you needed help with anything to let us know” he says crossing his arms. By this point your mind was running a hundred miles an hour, what did he just say? Did help with anything mean what you actually thought it meant? You swear you we’re starting to go crazy no way he just said that? 

“Well… uhmmm.. I didn’t think that’s what you meant.” You said avoiding eye contact. “We’re best friends, best friends help each other out with anything no matter what it is” Jake says his gaze darkening. 

“Well typically “normal” best friends don’t help each other out in this type of situation. 

“Well every friendship is different and we’re just taking ours to the next step.” 

You couldn’t help but admit that you did find them attractive, the way Jake and Heeseung would walk around with only a small towel wrapped around their waist after a shower. The way it hung low and could see their v-line start forming but you kept these thoughts to yourself because you guys we’re best friends. But when Jake and Heeseung had their hookups and you could hear a new girl moaning from the other room you couldn’t help but wonder is it as good as it sounds? But again these we’re thoughts you kept to yourself. 

Jake and Heeseung sat down on opposite sides of your bed and looked at each other nodding to one another before they opened their mouths to say what they we’re going to say. You we’re nervous having no idea what they we’re going to say or do. 

“If your okay with this we’re willing to take this friendship to the next step but need your confirmation” 

The way they both looked at you made your stomach fill with butterflies. “Yes please, I need both of you so bad I’ve been so lonely” you whimpered. The green light flashed and both of them immediately took their opportunity. 

“Fuck Princess we’re gonna make you feel so good” Heeseung pants out leaning into you. 

Jake immediately leans in to start kissing you on the lips, his kiss filled with want and need. You can feel the desperation behind his kiss, him wanting more and more. He slips his tongue out asking for permission and once let in the kisses start turning sloppy with him not being able to get enough of you. Meanwhile Heeseung roamed his hands all over your body, slipping them under your shirt and grabbing onto your boobs. He couldn’t believe it all the times he thought about how your tits looked like when you would wear those skimpy tops, he was finally about to see them. He unclasped your bra and started massaging your boobs which made you let out a moan into Jake’s mouth. 

“Feeling good baby?” Heeseung smirked continuing to play with your tits. You could feel your brain start to feel fuzzy with how good you were feeling. He moved his hands down to play with your nipples, causing an instant reaction from you. He rubbed the pads of his fingers on your nipples and then would pinch them rolling them inbetween his fingers, toying with them. You could already feel a warm feeling of arousal forming in your stomach from how good Heeseung was making you feel. Lifting your shirt up, he revealed your breasts his mouth practically watering at the sight of them. Leaning in, he opened his mouth and took a nipple in his mouth. Swirling his tounge around the bud has he continued licking it. Letting go for a slight breather he then started sucking on your nipples, now taking turns between both tits. 

You threw your head back in pleasure not being to contain your composure but Heeseung continued sucking and started slightly grazing his teeth over your buds. 

“Fuck Hee mmhm” you moan out. 

He took this a good sign and kept sucking on your nipples at a feverish pace. The kisses with Jake turned to the point where you we’re just exchanging saliva. He pulls back from your face and looks at you, you notice his lips are all red and his eyes are blown out. 

“Fuck I just can’t get enough of you” Jake whimpers leaning in for one more kiss. 

He pulls away noticing that your shirt was barely on due to Heeseung sucking on your tits. He helps you and pulls the rest of it off your body, leaving you completely naked only thing covering you was your blanket covering your bottom half. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking beautiful” Jake praises as he takes in your body. He slowly moves his hand down your stomach to reach for the hem of your pants for him to only realize that you didn’t have anything. He groans at the fact that you didn’t have anything on turning him on even more. 

“Naughty” Jakes teases “You didn’t have anything on this whole time?” 

“Was masturbating before I got caught I didn’t have the time to put anything back on” 

“Oh?” Jake laughs “Well it definitely speeds up the pace” 

He lifts the blanket off your legs, the only thing still keeping you covered now fully exposed. He reaches his hand down once again starting to rub your clit. 

“Fuck Jake”

He kept rubbing your clit, picking up the pace already forming a pool of arousal. Heeseung took a moment to stop sucking on your tits and watched Jake rub your clit. He lazily played with your nipples as he watched Jake. Having the both of them watch you while you got your clit rubbed made the warm feeling in your stomach grow. 

“Fuckkkk” Heeseung groans out as he watched Jake slip his fingers inside of your cunt and start to finger you. By this point your mind was clouded, the only thing you could focus on was cumming. 

“Don’t just look Heeseung, start rubbing her clit” Jakes commands. Heeseung snapping out of his state moves his hand over and starts rubbing on your clit. With both of them fucking you at the same time, you we’re pratically begging to cum. The noises your body we’re making with Jake’s fingers slipping in and out and Heeseung rubbing on your clit feverishly we’re so lewd, almost pornographic. 

“FuckFuckFuck I’m gonna cum please don’t stop” you whimpered out. 

“Cum for me princess” 

The warm feeling in your stomach reached it’s peak and just like that snapped. 

“Fuck mmhm cumming” you whimper out 

Jakes continues fingering you riding out your climax and Heeseung never lets up his pace. Coming down from your high they don’t let up their pace, they just keep going. You started to feel overstimulated begging for them to stop as you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“PleasePleasePlease no more” you cry out trying to squirm away but they just hold a tighter grip on you. 

“Aww baby doesn’t want to anymore?” Jake coos “Just give us one more” 

The familiar feeling started growing in your stomach again and this time faster. This time around Heeseung took it as a opportunity and removed his hand from your clit and leaned in instead to place his mouth on your clit. He sucked on it, starting to swirl his tounge around your clit. You swore you almost started seeing stars from how good it felt. 

“Hey, not fair” Jake said getting jealous “I wanted to eat her out too” 

Jakes pulls his fingers out causing you to gasp for air from the loss of contact. He put his hand in his mouth, savoring the taste of you on his lips. 

“You taste so fucking good I need more” 

He drops his head down and joins Heeseung in eating your pussy out. Both of them lapping and taking turns at sucking on your clit. Eating you with a hunger that seemed they couldn’t get enough of. Jake returned his fingers back into your pussy that was weeping for attention. 

“Oh my god you're so wet, so wet for me and heeseung?” “Bet this pussy of yours is just begging to be stuffed.” 

He slips his fingers in and you let out a whimper. 

“Mhhhm fuck please, fuck me” You plead looking up at Jake.

He moves his fingers in and out quickening his pace. The familiar feeling yet again growing in the pit of your stomach. He curls his fingers slightly to hit your g-spot ripping out a moan from you. You didn’t know how much longer you we’re going to last at this rate. Heeseung never let up the pace he was eating you out at, eating you like it was his last meal. His tongue roamed all over your pussy determined to find your sensitive spots and it didn’t help that Jake was there helping him eat you out too. Licking your pussy at the same time it was almost too much to be able to take. 

The feeling was starting to grow tighter and you knew you we’re going to cum soon. 

“I can feel that pussy of your tightening around my fingers are you gonna cum baby?” says Jake before taking another mouthful of you. “Cum for us baby” Jake groans out

Those we’re the words you needed to hear before you we’re pushed over the edge. Reaching your peak felt like an out of body experience, the pleasure completely overtaking your body. Jake and Heeseung continued eating you out riding out your peak before you finally starting coming down from it. 

“Princess you taste so good, fuck I need more” Heeseung whimpers into your pussy trying to clean as much of your arousal as he could. He continues to slurp you, coming down from your high you began to squirm in his grasp from still being sensitive. On the other hand Jake pulls away and yet again puts his fingers in his mouth to suck your cum from his fingers. 

“Always taste so good can’t get enough” Jake grins.

 By this point you had been fucked out of your mind, recieving not one but two explosive orgasms. Your body was getting tired by this point but you could tell Jake and Heeseung we’re just getting started. You look up to see Jake and Heeseung’s hard-ons as they palm over their cocks. 

“Fuck I can’t wait put my cock into your tight pussy” Jake whimpers out as he rushes to take off his clothes. In your drunken bliss you watch as Heeseung and Jake move quickly to take off their clothes. As you watch them remove the last of their clothes, slipping off their boxers you realize just how big they are. Their cocks stiff and leaking pre-cum already. “Fuck” you thought to yourself “How are they gonna fit?” You adjust yourself sitting back up and look over at both of them, you could see a hunger lingering in their eyes. 

“Lay on your back” Heeseung demands becoming more assertive then before, you’d never seen this side of him. You do as told and readjust yourself to lay on your back. Heeseung’s moves over to your side and grabs onto you to readjust your body onto his lap. You can feel the way his hard cock presses against your back and shudder at the thought that pretty soon he’d be inside of you. Jake then moves over to position himself in front of you. You didn’t really know what they had planned and looked at them in confusion. 

“What are we about to do?” you ask with a puzzled look 

“We’re going to fuck you at the same time” Jake smirks 

“Oh”

Your mouth runs dry at the thought. Both? At the same time? You didn’t even know if they’d even be able to fit inside of you let alone take both at the same time. Heeseung grabs onto your ass and starting to massage it. 

“Relax, we’ll take good care of you” 

Heeseung grabs his cock in his fist pumping it a few times, watching as the pre-cum starts to leak down his cock. Bitting his lip he isn’t able to contain his moans and let’s them slip. 

“Fuck I need you inside of me already, I can’t take it anymore” Heeseung whines. 

Letting go of his cock, he reaches back down for your ass and lifts you up slightly re-positioning himself to lean his back slightly on the headboard. He has perfect view of your ass, drooling at the fact that his cock was finally going to be inside of you. 

He lowers you back down onto his cock and feel his cock slowly start to enter your ass. He slowly pushes it in letting you get adjusted to his length but grits his teeth as your ass clenches around his tip. Breathing heavily he continues to slowly further push into you until your finally balls deep. Your ass feels full and the strech is slightly uncomfortable but welcome. You ask Heeseung to just stay like this for a few minutes so you could adjust to his cock. 

“Princess I’m going insane I could cum from just this, please can I move?” Heeseung pleads. You nod your head and almost instantly Heeseung starts fucking into you, moving at a gentle pace to help you continue adjust to his length. During this Jake is touching himself to him Heeseung finally entering your ass and watching as your face contorts from pain to pleasure. It was driving him insane and he needed to feel himself inside of you. 

He shot Heeseung a glance making Heeseung stop and you whimpered from the loss of friction. 

“Why’d you stop Hee?” you cry out 

“Because I can’t let you guys have all the fun” Jake remarks “Besides it wouldn’t be fair to leave this hole empty, I know how bad you want it” 

Your pussy clenches around nothing anticipating for Jake to enter you. He could cum just from watching the way your pussy clenches for him. He pumps his dick a few more times and spreads your legs, slowly entering you. Your pussy was so warm and hot that he almost came right there and then but held his composure. The way your pussy was clenching down on him was almost too unbearable for him. You felt stuffed in almost every way possible, Jake’s thick cock in your pussy and Heeseung’s in your ass made your head spin. Though having both of them inside of you wasn’t enough you needed them to start moving inside of you. Your body was begging for any type of friction at this point.

“Please, I need you to move mmhm can’t take it” you beg out. 

With that they both start to move and your body feels like it’s on fire with pleasure hitting you from every angle. The sound of skin slapping from both angles sounded so dirty but felt so amazing. Jake moved one of his hands to play with your nipples adding even more onto the pleasure. Your mind was melting and couldn’t even register the amount of pleasure you we’re feeling. 

“Fuck, princess you’re clamping down so hard on my cock it’s driving me insane” Heeseung grits out.

You could feel the way Heeseung’s cock moved in your ass repeatedly hitting your pleasure point and Jake’s tip repeatedly rubbing against your g-spot, grazing the bottom of your cervix. It was too intense and you could feel the warmness start to build in the pit of your stomach. The room was filled with heavy panting and moans, everyone focused on reaching that high. You could tell that they we’re getting close the way Heeseung’s thrusts were getting inconsistent and Jake’s face was starting to contort. 

“I don’t think i’m going to last much longer” Jake moans out. 

“Me either mmhm so close” Heeseung pants 

You could feel yourself starting to get closer and closer by the second as well, the feeling growing too intense. Jake puts a hand to your stomach, wanting to feel the way his dicks moves inside of you. With the way he was watching you being fucked stupid and him feeling the way his cock moved inside of you it was too unbearable for him. 

“Fuck baby i’m coming” Jake whimpered out. A few more sloppy thrusts and Jake unloaded inside of you. Continuing to chase his high as he fucked his cum inside of you making sure you took it in deep inside of you painting your walls. The feeling of Jake cumming inside of you sends you over the edge and hit your peak as well. 

Riding out your high, Jake continues to pound into you, your pussy clamping down on his cock. He grunts at the extra pressure put on his cock and it spurs him to continue fucking you. You start coming down from your high and Jakes fucks the last of his cum into you before slowing his pace until he stops but never pulling out from you. Before you can even question him you can feel Heeseung’s hips start stuttering 

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna fucking cum” Heeseung whines before he finally spills his load inside of you. Him cumming triggered another orgasm inside of you and both of you came at the same. It was nothing like you had felt before, the feeling of cumming from your ass felt so intense. You couldn’t help but throw your head back and whine in pleasure at how overstimulated you felt. The feeling of your ass clenching on Heeseung’s cock sent him even more over the edge. 

Fucking into you even more feverishly, making sure he stuffed you full of his seed. He wanted to make sure you we’re full of him and that you we’re his and only his. He came down from his high, hips slowing down. Your brain was mush at this point only feeling pleasure, relishing in the fact that you we’re stuffed of both of your best friend’s cum. 

“How was that baby hmm?” Jake asks. 

“So fucking good” you say slurring your words. 

“Fuck you make not wanna pull out, you feel too good” Heeseung whines hiding his face into your back. 

“Can’t we just stay like this for a bit?” Jake begs. 

You cave and stay with both of them inside of you for a few more mins. They decide it’s finally time to pull out and Heeseung makes sure to hold onto you as he pulls you off of him since he knew you’d be too weak to support yourself. Both him and Jake hiss at the loss of contact and you cry out at the loss of feeling of having them inside of you. Heeseung lays you down and both of them watch as their load drips out of you, satisfied with themselves. 

“So how was it… fucking your best friends?” Jake asks with a shit-eating grin.

“Fucking amazing” you slur in your blissed out state “We should’ve done this sooner”

Heeseung and Jake both let out a small laugh and smile. 

“I’ll go get something to wipe her down with” Heeseung says lifting himself off the bed. Jake stays and starts playing with your hair looking down at you with loving eyes. 

“What are you so giddy about” you asked softly laughing 

“Nothing, just you’re so pretty I can’t help but look at you” 

You hum as he continues to play with your hair, you could get used to this.