Palindrome969 - Lily & Larkspur

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮

☆ Genre: Fluff

☆ Warnings: None

☆ Request: No

☆ Characters: Hyunjin, Y/N

☆ Word Count: 2.1k

☆ A/N: My posts aren't showing up in the tags so please reblog this ♡

“I can do it myself,” Y/N insisted as she sat down on one of the benches. “Hyunjin … “

“Let me,” Hyunjin said in a soft tone of voice. He crouched down in front of Y/N, his slender frame folding like an elegant origami swan.

Y/N bit her lip as she watched him. Hyunjin's fingers began to lace up her ice skates, his touch nimble and gentle as he tugged at the laces; from this angle, Y/N could see the way Hyunjin's dark hair fell in gentle sweeps against the angular structure of his face, his long lashes looking like a fine dust of cocoa on his skin as he tilted his head downwards. With every one of his movements, Y/N caught the sweet depth of florals and the warmth of vanilla radiating from his skin, the subtle woodiness at the base of it all sending her heart fluttering like a bird in a cage.

She wasn't sure if being so incredibly handsome for a first date was legal.

She also couldn't help but feel as though she didn't compare to him in the slightest.

“Y/N?” Hyunjin's voice carried a slight tinge of urgency and Y/N blinked suddenly as she was snapped out of her lovestruck thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I was asking if they're too tight,” Hyunjin said.

Y/N looked down at her skates. Hyunjin's fingers were still cupping the sides of her skates, and perhaps it was just her imagination, but Y/N was sure she could feel heat from his hands seeping in through the shoes.

She swallowed. “They're fine. Thank you.”

Hyunjin's face broke into a large smile. The expression caused the man's face to completely light up, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. He looked remarkably as though he was glowing, just as an ethereal sculpture might shine with the spillage of sunlight gracing its stretch of marble.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked, tilting his head to the side.

Y/N let out a questionable sound in response. She had intended on replying with a simple ‘yes’. But instead she made the sound of what could only be described as a deflating balloon.

Y/N cleared her throat. “Mhm.”

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin laughed quietly. “I called you three times.”

“You smell good,” Y/N blurted out. She then slapped her gloved hand over her mouth, her eyes widening. “I didn't say that.”

Hyunjin's face crinkled in childish joy as he started to laugh all over again. “Thank you.”

He then stood up again, towering over Y/N with a poised stance. Y/N looked up at him in awe. Even the way his long woollen coat hung from his body seemed to drip with elegance, the scarf around his neck styled as though he had just walked out from an editorial magazine. He seemed not to notice all the stares he was receiving from people who milled past them both, his nonchalance all the more attractive to Y/N.

She breathed shakily. She wasn't sure if her knees were quite strong enough to stand; there was something about the way the man in front of her was looking at her that seemed to turn her insides into jelly.

“Ready?” Hyunjin asked, extending a hand. “Don't worry … I've got you.”

Y/N swallowed thickly. “I'm really, really bad at skating.”

Hyunjin smiled, mischief dancing in the pits of his eyes. “It's a good thing I'm a great skater then, isn't it?”

“I hope you're as good as you say you are,” Y/N said weakly as she slipped her hand into his. She watched in slow motion as Hyunjin curled his fingers around hers in his heated hold, and he used a gentle pressure to pull her to unsteady feet.

It was still clearly too much for Y/N; the sudden unfamiliar feeling of standing on nothing but thin slivers made her unbalance almost immediately. She stumbled into Hyunjin, her eyes widening as the man's hands found their way to the small of her back.

Chest against his, Y/N looked up into Hyunjin's eyes with embarrassment flooding into hers. But catching the pink tint on Hyunjin's cheeks, Y/N felt her heartbeat speed up as she registered the man's hold on her, his scent clouding her mind and his overwhelming proximity turning her brain into mush.

“Woah,” Hyunjin hummed as he studied Y/N's face. Her hair had escaped from underneath her hat, and Hyunjin gently reached out to tuck the strands beneath the material. “Careful.”

Y/N expected him to pull away; she moved first, and she was surprised when she felt Hyunjin's hands tightening on her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“Wait,” Hyunjin whispered. He lowered his head, his lips brushing her temple as he smiled. “You smell good too.”

“I - “ Y/N felt her words dissipate as quickly as they had flooded her mind upon hearing his words. She felt her blood rush to her head, echoing in her ears like a heavy drum set.

Hyunjin smiled. He cleared his own throat quietly before sliding his hands down to Y/N's, and he entwined his long fingers with hers. “Let's go.”

Nodding, Y/N inhaled deeply. Her brain was having a party inside of her skull, continuously chanting about how Hyunjin was holding her hand. She felt nervous as she slowly followed Hyunjin's smooth strides with her own timid ones, and once they were both on the ice, she felt her limbs tremble with both light headedness from the man she was with, and the constant fear of falling on her face in front of him.

“It's so cold … “ Hyunjin commented as he skated a few inches towards the side of the rink. His voice turned into tiny white clouds as he spoke, and Y/N once again found herself marvelling over the beauty that radiated from him in a never ending stream.

She shook her head. Focus, she thought to herself. It wasn't as though she had never been with him before … surely her sudden inflation of romantic feelings for him wouldn't affect her ability to function this much.

Standing in front of her, Hyunjin held his two bands out towards Y/N. “Hold onto my hands. I'll teach you how to skate.”

Doing as she was told, Y/N slipped her hands onto his again.

“Okay ... you have to tilt your feet outwards a little bit, like this,” Hyunjin parted his feet, his toes further apart than his heels. “And then bend your knees to find your balance.”

Y/N did her best to copy his stance. She had a feeling she looked utterly ridiculous.

“Good. Now pick one of your feet up - not too high,” Hyunjin demonstrated again. “Then the other. Kind of like you're marching.”

“Like this?” Y/N marched slowly on the spot. Her face broke into a smile as she started to giggle. “I feel silly. I look silly.”

Hyunjin smiled. He squeezed her hands. “You look beautiful. Now … push outwards with one foot onto the ice. You can do it.”

Still holding his hands, Y/N exhaled. She then did her best to follow his instructions; knees slightly bent, she pushed her right foot outwards, and then her left foot. Her eyes widened in surprise as she felt herself glide onto the ice, and when she looked up, she saw Hyunjin beaming at her with pride.

“I knew you could do it!” He exclaimed happily. “You're a quick learner.”

“You're good at teaching,” Y/N countered as she continued to skate slowly towards him. “I've never, ever managed to skate even one step before.”

Satisfied, Hyunjin couldn't help but tug at her hands; Y/N slid towards him, giggles escaping her mouth as she fell into the curve of his body again, his arm sliding around her waist.

“Let's skate around together. And then you can try to do it on your own,” Hyunjin suggested. He enveloped one of his hands with her own and she nodded, looking determined as she began to glide slowly across the ice.

After a few minutes, Y/N seemed to have gotten the hang of it; her strides became longer, her movements smoother. She adopted a rhythmic pace with Hyunjin, and with content smiles on their faces, Hyunjin and Y/N skated around the ice rink with their hands clasped in one another's.

They both managed to skate to their start point in no time at all, and once they were there, Hyunjin gently kissed the back of Y/N's hand.

“Try it on your own now,” Hyunjin said. “I'll be behind you, so don't worry.”

Y/n nodded. She reluctantly pulled her hand out of his warm grip and took a deep breath before bending her knees slightly again. Finding her centre of gravity, she pushed off, delighted when she realised she could skate just as well without the man's hand in hers.

It was when a sudden stumbling figure hurtled towards her did Y/N realise she had no idea how to stop moving. Her eyes widened as she hurtled towards a wall, her heart racing as it got closer and closer.

“Hyunjin!” Y/N squealed. “You didn't teach me how to sto - “

Before she knew what was happening, the front of Y/N's skate jabbed itself into a groove in the ice. She tipped forward, spinning as her legs gave way and she landed promptly on the ice, her face smacking against a chip of ice on the floor.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin gasped. He quickly skated towards her, his eyes wide and full of panic as he kneeled down next to Y/N. “Oh my God … I'm so sorry! How did I forget to teach you to stop?”

Breathing heavily, Y/N sat up slowly. Her face was contorted in pain, and Hyunjin's face turned into one of horror as he took in the sight of her.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked anxiously.

Y/N nodded. “I'm okay. I think … I think I twisted my ankle … “

“Your chin!” Hyunjin inhaled sharply. “Y/N … Y/N you're bleeding.”

“I am?” Y/N asked. “Where?”

“The bottom of your chin.” Hyunjin reached out gently, almost as if he was going to touch her face. Thinking better of it, he retracted his hand and instead pulled Y/N up to her feet. “Can you move? Just to get over there.”

He pointed towards the benches on the outside of the ice rink where he had tied Y/N's skates initially.

Y/N nodded. “I think so.”

Leaning into him, with some difficulty Y/N managed to reach the bench. Hyunjin set her down on the seat and kneeled in front of her again before reaching for the bag he had brought with him.

“I'm glad I listened to Chan,” Hyunjin commented as he pulled out a small pouch. He smiled, unzipping it and revealing its contents. “He told me to bring a first aid kit. Just in case.”

Y/N smiled. “I'm glad you listened to him too.”

Pulling out a packet of antiseptic wipes, Hyunjin cleaned his fingers before taking a hold of Y/N's face. He steepled one hand on the underside of Y/N's jaw, and with the other hand, he raised the wipe to Y/N's jaw.

Y/N's breath hitched from the sting of the antiseptic solution on her cut. Hyunjin's eyes filled with sympathy as he dabbed as gently as he could, mopping up the blood from her skin.

“Definitely the worst date ever, huh?” Hyunjin hummed as he set the wipe aside. He laughed a little bitterly, looking down as he found a tube of ointment. “I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't want to come out with me again.”

Y/N blinked. She reached her hand out and placed it on top of his, the man looking up at her in surprise.

“That's not true,” Y/N shook her head. “I … I think it was a perfect date. You could even say … I fell for you.”

Hyunjin stared at her. He then burst into laughter, a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he snorted with amusement.

Y/N grinned, utterly satisfied. “Did that … break the ice?”

“Oh my gosh,” Hyunjin's face adopted an expression of pain as he understood the girl's joke. He shook his head as he began to slather the cream over Y/N's injury. “Definitely.”

He then smiled, reaching for a plaster. “So … what do you think about going to watch a movie?”

“A movie?” Y/N asked, cocking her head to the side.

“We could go back to mine … “ Hyunjin shrugged as he carefully smoothed the plaster over Y/N's chin. “I have a very big collection of romance movies. And loads of snacks.”

Y/N bit her lip, a smile spreading across her blushing face. She looked into the man's face, nothing but hopefulness and adoration glowing in his eyes.

She nodded. “I'd like that.”

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Tag list ~ @koos-euphoria @raethethey @hotmesshapa @manonblackbeak-trash @hendsernoodle @stanskzseungmin @ateez-babygirl @dalamjisung @dinosdawn @cookiemonstermusic258 @strwbrryfroyo @gazelle-des-pres @qtieskz @stigmvta @necromancersupreme @super-btstrash-posts @changlix-mp4 @exonations @changboobies @jeyelleohe @rae-blogging @planetdemon @dani41 @jumbocircus @octalalica @velvetand-roses @foivetimesacharm @anaaam @waverzzzzzzzz @peachy-flxwr @elizabeth11moreno @lenfilms @xhazmania @starshine-moon @snow-pegasus @bbychannie97 @laylasbunbunny @americanokisses @bluechans @bellamuerte1987 @meowmeowisdaname @chanssmiles @minunivers @septicrebel @bangchans-angel @spacegirlstuff (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

"its my thigh or nothing, i m not helping you get off" with SKZ chan, him guiding you on his thigh, moving your hips and whispering in your ears, growling and groaning cause he knows how much like to hear him. him tightening his thigh and js everything about and thigh riding AGFHDJDJ

MINORS PISS OFF. tags: chan x afab!reader + thigh riding, orgasm denial

“it's my thigh or nothing, I'm not helping you get off.”

his words echo in your head, alongside his name and the sound of his groans and growls and... yeah, well, that's pretty much it. you're already fucked out in the best way possible.

droplets of sweat slowly drip down your forehead with your every shakey moan, and chan shivers at how he can practically feel your pussy clench and pulse against his thigh, its vibrations easily reaching his strained, stiff cock, begging to be freed and buried in your warmth, to pound and rearrange your insides like you're both used to, to fill you up and bring you to heaven—but the ego boost he's getting from seeing your eyes glaze over with tears, from the feeling of your drooling cunt making a mess on his thigh just from a little bit of grinding is mindblowing.

chan relishes in your stuttered sounds, in the way you gasp like a fish out of water as your fists ball his black t-shirt sticking to him like a second skin, in the way your poor, poor clit drags over your ruined cotton panties and the rough fabric of his jeans, making you dizzy with pleasure, making you spout out nonesense, “cha—ah... nnie, I- I am... I-- uhm, I thin-nk? I,” you shake your head, trying so so hard to collect your thoughts and say a coherent sentence, but with your nub being constantly stimulated, with your hips still being rocked back and forth, with his mouth letting out the filthiest of groans and words right into your ear, all that come out are breaths and gasps, and suddenly, your bottom lip starts to tremble, frustrated with yourself.

his heart melts at your adorable face, and a fake pout makes its way on his face, his mouth now sucking on your earlobe. “what, pretty? too fucked out to speak?” he grunts, squeezing your hips, putting more pressure on them before flexing his thigh repeatedly. a high-pitched moan of yours fills his studio, and he smirks, looking down at his soaked gray sweatpants and your underwear sticking to your cunt, the fabric now translucent. “'boutta cum?”

you whimper and nod, tears running down your cheeks when he angles your hips so your throbbing clit can grind just right on the flexed muscle of his thigh. “p-please! I, I've been s' go-”

“but you look so pretty like this... hold it for me a little more, will you?”

taglist: @maximumkillshot @caitlyn98s @woogigi @starsandrqindrops @extrhotjne

𝕰𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖘𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖊 [teaser!]

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 : Bang Chan x fem!reader

𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜 : Ex lovers to strangers to lovers, idiots to lovers, love Triangle.

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 : angst, fluff, eventual smut, tear-jerking ending or whatever.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 : eventual smut, drug usage, alcohol usage, misogynistic comments.

𝚝𝚊𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 : comment or dm

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚐 :

"You have given extensive thought to this decision and give 'Brighter days inc' exclusive permission remove this person's memory from your memory. If yes, then please sign the page and hand it over"

Your tired eyes scanned the terms and conditions. Black ink on plain white paper.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hands fiddling with pen in grasp.

Their were 4 other people in the room, an old woman, a woman in her 40s, a teenage boy and you.

You wondered what the teenage boy had suffered, to come to a place like this.

The angel on your shoulder was telling you to sign the document, to let go of your memories with him. Let go of the pain. Let go of the happiest moments of your life.

The devil in your shoulder screamed to not sign it. Let yourself suffer as you watch the man, you loved so dearly, drift further away from you.

The promise ring on your pinkie was another reminder of the memory that you so painstakingly wanted to forget, but remember at the same time.

With a trembling hand you signed the paper. Exhaling shakily after.

Perhaps you should have listened to the devil afterall.

_

©@chaotic-world-of-the-j 2024

I do not allow translations or Republishing of my works. However, reposts and comments are appreciated.

Plagiarism is a crime

— ENDLESS WINTER. TEASER a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

TROPE. Beast! au, Mage! au, enemies to lovers (she wants to kill him), marriage au, angst

WARNINGS. violence, kidnapping, mention of a past war, descriptions of murder, reader is injured, hyunjin is a bit of a pain, hinted minsung (hehe), blood, kissing (dubcon), cursing

WORD COUNT. estimated around 12k

AUG'S NOTES. me and my inner thoughts… as a fic 😭 i cannot believe this is my longest writing yet!!! hopefully you enjoy!

SYNOPSIS. As heiress of the Magus, otherwise, Mage Clan, you find your position ripped from your fingertips when the Beast Clan conducts a raid. Left the only survivor, you make it your priory to stay alive in a ravaged Kingdom. That is, before you’re captured.

alternatively :

Starvation becomes the least of your problems when you meet King Bahng.

Hiding in the kitchen’s cupboard was definitely not your intention.

Neither was the Kingdom getting raided by the Beast Clan or being the (presumably) lone survivor in the castle, but fate would have its way, whether you liked it or not — this one just a bit more severe than usual.

Your mother once told you of the Beast Clan, of their ferocity and inability to handle things diplomatically. In her opinion, Beast were barely able to be considered Human.

Well, these words came after the Mage-Beast War; a grueling, disgustingly brutal dispute that caused what was referred to as the “Endless Winter”, a curse put upon the nation by a Magus overseer bidding every day of every year with, well, “endless winter”.

She told you how the ground used to be a wondrous green. Soft beneath your fingertips like feathers. Now, blankets of snow stretched as far as the eye could see, killing off any remaining expanse of foliage.

Although years had passed since then, your Kingdom was still recovering, still navigating importing routes in order to supply necessary goods.

Yet, everything was rapidly adapting, whether that was the snow-shoe rabbits roaming your vast tundra or the unexpected growth of fur on the bottom of the horse’s hooves.

Growing, learning.

Magus, though a lineage of magic practitioners, had begun to dull over the centuries. There was no need to learn with peace eminent, and the more aged those wielding supernatural abilities became, the less said abilities progressed into your generations.

However, Magus is the hearth of your Kingdom, and for as long as you live, the title shall reign supreme.

A title that, used by enemies and allies alike, had modernized from its ancient form Magus, to Mage.

Dinner held in the customary hall began that night, seat upon seat homing each member of the family adorned in their extravagant clothing.

Your father occupied the upmost chair, his plate stacked full of greasy lamb and pork bones. You, on the other hand, had had your fill chatting the cook’s ear off, slipping sweet potato wedges here and there as you talked.

Ms. Maewether was her name, a sad soul who carried her love in her cherished dishes. A love reserved for her late husband, a Beast himself, who unfortunately passed in The War.

Back then you asked her questions to the moon, about what they looked like specifically — if they really had eight inch claws like all the other children gossiped, if they could feel.

The last one was important, because everything Ms. Maewether told you you believed without a doubt, and the number one thing she pressed was that Beasts can feel, so very deeply. Just like humans.

The War changed that, and tension rose tenfold, especially as each Kingdom recovered from their countless casualties.

Luckily, your life had been peaceful, having been born young enough you could hardly remember.

Had been peaceful.

A scream from outside redirects the table’s conversation, relatives and siblings alike turning their head to gaze out the window.

Your blood runs cold.

Beasts, left and right, are slaughtering. Their clothing stained in blood that certainly isn’t their own, blades in clutch.

Immediately, panic ensues. People are trampling over each other to get out, disregarding every instinct but to stay alive. It’s chaos.

Dodging flailing bodies, you anchor yourself in a secluded cupboard below the countertops, shrinking as close to the wall as possible.

A few moments after everyone evacuates the Dining Hall do you hear cries. Yelling, gargled sounds. You cringe back imagining, stifling your breathing as much as possible.

Suddenly, a thought comes to mind, a thought that might just be responsible for saving your life.

Smell.

Ms. Maewether warned you a Beast’s smell is like no other, like a dogs. Twenty times as heightened as a persons.

So slowly, silently, you fish your hand into the small bit of darkness in front of you, locating a small bottle of cooking grease you wince upon finding — forcing the awful smelling concoction over your body, masking your scent.

Right after sitting down the container does the door creak open, heavy footsteps belonging to none other than a Beast. You can hear it in their sniffing, the clicking of their claws. Chills scatter your arms.

Another enters as the second door creaks, muttering something incomprehensible to its companion. At this point you’re pressed to the other side of the cupboard, both hands covering your mouth.

Your heart thunders in your chest, beating unbearably loud the longer you huddle.

Walking past where you lie, a Beast stops, body ducking down close enough you can hear its labored panting. You wait, waiting for the door to be flung open and for your death to await.

It doesn’t. And you thank whomever above for the echo of its presence fading away into the distance, barely relaxing against the highly uncomfortable hiding spot.

Instead, a blood curdling screech rips through the atmosphere, comparably close to where you hide. Abruptly, it stops, the thump of a body against the floor making you staunch the nausea building like bile in your throat.

It takes three days for you to finally peer out of the cupboard, the entirety of the Kingdom completely void of a soul.

Taking your first few steps around do you notice a woman, obviously slain by the puddle of blood surrounding her and the putrid stench. Her mouth hangs open—horror-stricken, frozen in place. You vomit in the sink.

For about a week do you roam the murder-house of a castle, finding purchase in a non-blood-bathed room and the many, thought to be endless amount of food.

You won’t leave, simple.

As long as the Beast Clan believes they’ve killed everyone, you’re safe.

That reminder was assuring, until your food supply dropped exponentially and a new problem situated itself on your platter.

Worst case scenario you die of starvation, the likelihood high if you stay here. Solution? Hunting.

Granted, you’re not the most skillful hunter, but you’re also not horrendous with a bow. Except, it’s not your aiming abilities you stress, it’s the chance someone sees you, the enemy sees you.

Four weeks in and you’re left with no other choice than to bundle yourself in layers upon layers of clothing and heed the feeble weaponry available.

Blizzard frost permeates your vision, wobbling steps making your hunger evident the more you roam. A horse would’ve been effortlessly useful, but selling yourself into that fantasy had been futile upon realizing they either took or killed all escapades.

A hare catches your eye, pale fur barely divisible from the terrain below. Carefully, you crouch down, elbow stretching the arrow back as far as possible whilst maintaining a solid grip. Steady. Steady.

Shoot!

The arrow flies, puncturing the animal in its chest enough to where it thankfully doesn’t suffer, flopping over rather pathetically instead.

However, your success is short-lived.

Stalking forward to snatch the creature quickly, a shadow looming overhead halts your footsteps. Behind you.

Before you can think to run, you wind back, meager arrow in hand providing little defense against the attacker.

First thing you take in is how huge they are. At least six feet tall if not taller, brilliantly ruby eyes revealing its true identity.

Beast.

With ease the man has your efforts pinned, curiousity overflowing as the animal looks at you. Yet, he doesn’t look like an animal, and apart from those eyes of his, no other factors would’ve revealed him to you but that.

This Beast has a fox-like face. A younger stature and smaller, slanted features.

“Hyung, what is this?” He asks, lifting your petrified frame like you were the rabbit you’d killed earlier.

His older counterpart glances over, and any hope of getting released plummets upon those wild crimson hues focusing in on you—knowledgeable as to what you were.

The cooking grease had long worn off, and your identity was likely as apparent as can be.

Mage.

Older Beast easily roaming through the snow, his fingers tangle into your hair, drawing out a cry when he jerks his hand up, forcing your gaze to meet his through the searing sting of your scalp. The younger grimaces.

His long, nearly white hair is tied into a ponytail, sharp cheekbones and calculating stare beyond intimidating. Beneath his left eye you note a small, distinct mole.

“One remained, huh.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

He looks so handsome

© 옆말 | do not edit and/or crop logo

tattoo artist- Leeknow

(Warnings: smut! Leeknow x reader, slight age gap, oral, unprotected sex but reader is on the pill, tattoo gun, hair pulling, mentions of pain, semi public sex, good old fashion doggy style 😛😛)

Summary: leeknow is your tattoo artist that you’ve been crushing on for a while, but he’s never made a move. So obviously, you decide to get a tattoo in a slightly scandalous spot and inevitably things get steamy

——————————————————————

You sit on the chair eagerly, holding the piece of paper in your hand. It’s been 15 minutes since you came, where is he?

“Are you nervous?” you swear you feel your whole demeanor change when you hear his voice.

You scoff, “Have I ever been nervous?”

“You were the first time.” Minho smirks playfully.

You don’t remember the first time as vividly as he does. He remembers it as if it was yesterday.

He remembers his world stopping when you walked in. You were so captivating to him. You wore a leather skirt with fishnets, and a cropped tank top that complimented your belly button piercing. Your hair was black and blonde at the time, roots grown out but still pretty. Your eyes were starry and nervous, showing the design you wanted on your left arm for the first tattoo you’d ever gotten. You were shy at first, but then opened up pretty quickly, talking his ear off. Explaining how long you had wanted a tattoo, and it was hard to narrow down the choices for your first one. He knew you’d be back after proclaiming your love and interest in tattoos, but he didn’t expect so soon. You’d come back a week later for another. It was then when you told him you were excited to start college the following week. All his possible plans on asking you out vanished with that, given that you were 18 and he was 22 at the time.

Well it’s three years later, and who knows how many times you’ve been here. Minho expected to have a fun time like usual, chatting away with you, also expecting the familiar disappointment that would follow when you left. What he DIDN’T expect was you wanting a tattoo on your chest that required your shirt to be off.

“Um, well you’d need to take your shirt off..do you want me to get a girl to do this instead?” He hoped you didn’t see how red his ears were.

“No, why would I? I trust you the most, and it’s not like I’m getting naked or anything”

Yet.

He hesitantly nods, instructing you shyly to remove your shirt. This usually wouldn’t be a problem, since Minho finds himself mature. But his attraction towards you is what stands out among the rest of the customers. And he feels guilty for it, given the age gap. You’re 21 and he’s 25, which doesn’t seem that big of a deal to most but the fact that he’s known you since you were technically a teenager amplifies his guilt.

Despite his worries, and your black lace bra, things weren’t very awkward. You both talked as usual, enjoying the time you had since it had been a while. I mean, it's been three years and they're only so many tattoos you want, so inevitably your visits have slowed down over the years. At some point in your rambling, you ask, “Have you ever had a psychotic ex girlfriend?”

He simply shakes his head. “Oh really? Not even like a jealous one?”

“I’ve never had a girlfriend.” He states as if it’s the most normal thing for a gorgeous 25 year old man to have never had a girlfriend.

“YOU WHAT?” you could not contain your shock.

He chuckles softly, “Why so surprised?” He’s still focused on his task at hand.

“Well for starters, you’re gorgeous, and also you’re kind and funny, what else would anyone want?” His laugh was breathier than he wanted it to be, and you definitely catch the pink hue dusting his cheeks.

“Maybe, but I’m also a tattoo artist who didn’t graduate college.”

“I think the tattoo artist thing is dreamy.” You pause, “And hot.”

His breath audibly hitches. “I, thank you.”

Truth is you’ve been pining after Minho for forever. You flirt with him constantly, and it obviously has an effect on him, so you assumed he had a girlfriend since he never made a move. But even so, you always secretly hoped he was single. And maybe you let your delusions get the best of you, because you scheduled the latest appointment possible, and picked your most flattering bra for him to see. Your plaid skirt was short too, knee high socks complimenting your thighs.

“Any plans or ideas for the next tattoo?” Minho asks, desperate to change the subject.

“I dunno, I’m kinda running out of ideas.”

“Damn, I’d miss my favorite customer.”

“Well, maybe we should go for coffee sometime?” He pauses his movements, obviously flustered, but also deep in thought of what his response should be.

“You know I can’t, but I’m flattered regardless.” Minho failed to hide his disappointment in his voice.

“Why, can’t date customers or what?”

He laughs a bit, “No, have you seen this place? We don’t really have rules.”

You laugh with him, “Okay so why? Am I not pretty or?”

That wasn’t very funny to him. “No, you’re breathtaking.” He knows he shouldn’t have said that, yet he doesn’t feel a single trace of regret. “It’s just, the age gap.” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Aren’t you 25?”

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t help giggling at him. “Oh please Minho, I’ve been on dates with way older than you.” His eyes dart up at you. “What? How much older?”

You shrug, “Doesn’t matter, go out with me?”

He turns off the tattoo gun and sets it next to him, deep in thought.

You suddenly wrap your legs around him to bring him closer, “Please?”, you watch his eyes flutter shut as you comb his hair with your fingers. You didn’t dare make another move. You needed him to take the next step. He caught on to this quickly, given the fact that you’ve had your fingers and legs wrapped around him for what felt like forever, and have made no further effort to act on the obvious tension between the two of you. Despite your persuasion, he still felt guilty. But his judgment was clouded by your hot breath fanning his cheeks.

You nearly zone out taking in his features, but quickly brought back by Minho closing the gap between the two of you.

His lips were so soft. He kissed just like he did his tattoos, calm and precise, concentrated on doing everything the best way possible. He bites your bottom lip softly, granting himself access to push his tongue in your mouth. He tastes so sweet it was insane.

You whine softly, tugging at his shirt. Minho pulls away from you for a second, pulling off his shirt, then quickly attaching his lips once more. His lips trail down your jaw towards your neck as you whimper. You hiss when his chest accidentally comes in contact with your new (unfinished) tattoo.

He pulls away worried, “Sorry, did I hurt you?”’

You shyly shake your head, “I liked it.” He raises his eyebrows at you, “I liked the pain, feels nice.” He stares at you, his concerned expression morphing into a devilish smirk.

“Oh really?” He touches you again, groping your breast slightly, barely pressing against the tattoo but still enough to cause a pleasurable thrill.

Minho kisses you again but with much more force this time, biting your lip rather harshly, earning a deep moan from you. His hand slowly inches up your thighs teasingly, searching for the hem of your underwear. He pulls away abruptly to look at you, and then pulls your skirt up. He scoffs when he finds that you indeed were not wearing anything under your skirt.

“You’re crazy.” He laughs, shaking his head, not really trying to hide that his face was bright ass red.

“I’m crazy for you.” you pull him closer, missing his lips on yours. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Cringe.”, you look at him in disbelief, about to protest but immediately distracted by his hand reaching down to cup your heat. You feel yourself beginning to fall apart for him right then and there.

“You're so wet.” He flashes you a toothy grin while running his fingers up and down your folds. You don’t respond, too focused on the fact that his hands were finally touching you, and this wasn’t a dream.

You’d often daydream about his hands alone. You loved staring at his hands while he held that tattoo gun, veiny and big, and precise in every movement. You’d think about all the ways his hands could move precisely, and not with the tattoo gun.

Your thoughts are cut short when Minho's head is in between your legs. “Fuck.”, you whisper, the way his dough eyes are looking up at you, half for consent and half for amusement was enough to make you finish right there. Nonetheless, you power through.

Minho licks a long, slow stripe up your folds. When he meets your clit, he circles his tongue slowly over it, before going back down to tease your entrance.

The way he eats you out is heaven. He uses a kissing motion around your clit, rather than just applying pressure or sucking on it (he does that too). You whine, pushing his face impossibly closer to you, tugging at his hair begging him to keep going. Your legs shake as you feel your high approaching, Minho gets the message and speeds up his actions. Out of nowhere he pushes in a finger, pumping it in and out of you quickly. This tips you over the edge and before you know it your thighs are shaking violently, closing around his head as you cum with a silent cry, back arched in the air.

Minho cleans you up with his tongue, ignoring your whines from overstimulation. Eventually he stops and looks up at you, and fuck if it isn’t the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. His lips parted, pupils blown out, and you don’t miss your juices dripping down his chin. His lustful gaze is working you up all over again.

You pull him into another heating kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. You hand trails down to his hard on, palming him softly. He groans deeply into the kiss, playing with the clasp of your bra until it falls off your shoulders. Minho pulls from this kiss to peel the rest of your bra off, letting out a shaken exhale staring at your bare chest. It’s not long before he has his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hand around your other breast. You enjoy this for a moment, before playing with his belt until you manage to get it off.

You stand up, taking Minho by surprise. He almost thought you were leaving until you get on your knees. His breath is shaky and he watches you pulling out his member. You practically drool at the sight of it. It wasn't too long, but longer than most. And what he didn’t have in length was made up for by how fucking thick it was. You wrap your hand around it, pumping steadily.

Soon enough, you take him all in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. Luckily he did not notice your impatience, too immersed in the feeling of your mouth around him. You bob your head up and down on him, alternating between swirling your tongue around his tip and sucking it. He eventually begins thrusting his hips, meeting your bobbing motions until you feel him twitch in your mouth and he pulls you off him. You can’t help but pout up at him and he just chuckles, pulling you off the ground. He kisses you briefly before bending you over the tattoo chair.

You whimper as he teases your folds, dragging his cock up and down them. You feel his tip teasing your entrance, your cunt leaking in anticipation.

“Wait,” he breaths, “Do you have a condom?”

“No? Why would I have a condom? You're the guy here.”

“Yeah well you’re the one who expected this to happen!”

“I did not!”

“You literally didn’t wear any underwear.”

“I’m on the pill.”

You hear him sigh, “Are you sure?”

“Minho just fuck me already before I ride you instead.”

Despite your affirmation, he was still hesitant. Pushing in as slowly as possible, your warm cunt enveloping him earns a somewhat high pitched moan from him.

You want to tease him, you really do, but you’re already a fucking mess and he hasn’t moved. The stretch is absolutely delicious, and he’s reaching every spot perfectly.

He begins moving steady, hands gripping your hips. You’re loud and he loves it. Your moans encouraging him to move faster, he builds up his pace. “Fuck fuck fuck! Like that please!” You babble, already feeling your consciousness slip away.

“Mmm you like it rough right? You like it when I fuck you dumb?.” you can only nod, incredibly turned on by his words.

Knock knock.

You both pause, and you feel reality coming back to you when you hear a voice from the other side of the door.

“Hey Minho, sorry to interrupt.”

Fuck. It had completely slipped your mind that yeah maybe there weren't really any other customers there but there were obviously workers. And you recognized her voice, it was Yuri, the one who always answered your calls and scheduled your appointments. God this was embarrassing.

“I’m leaving for the day, so if you could lock up when you’re uh, done, that’d be great.”

You could not be more mortified in this moment.

“Okay sounds good, thanks Yuri.” Minho yells from the other side.

You both wait until you hear the bell from the front door, indicating she had left.

“Oh my god that’s so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face further in the chair. Minho laughs in disbelief, “You wore no underwear and THAT'S embarrassing?”

all you do is whine and mumble a ‘shut up’ before he’s fucking you again without warning, this time pulling your hair. You yelp at the sting, eyes rolling back to your head.

“Thought you wanted an audience baby? Thought you wanted everyone to know I was fucking you so well?” You can’t respond, you're too close to your climax already. Minho takes note of this and picks up the pace, thrashing into you without mercy.

“Oh my god I’m so close please!” You cry, tears of pleasure spilling down your cheeks. Minho just grunts, snaking his fingers down under you to rub your clit.

You see white as you cum for the second time tonight, walls clamping down on Minho, causing him to cum shortly after you.

You both lay there for a while, catching each other's breath. You jolt up when you hear him walking away, fearing that he was going to leave, only to find him returning with a warm towel to clean you up. You’re silent as he cleans you up, just watching him with adoration.

“So,” he clears his throat, “Should we go somewhere now?”

You smile, “My place?”

He chuckles, “I was thinking dinner?”

-AHH I had sm fun writing this!! Expect a sequel bc omg I cannot stop thinking ab tattoo artist bf lee know? Like? Anywaysss pls lmk your thoughts! I’m not great at writing but I love to do it, so I’d rlly like tips on how I can improve!!