Aloneness | By Design Chapter One

aloneness | by design chapter one

pairing: chan x reader ; hyunjin x reader | wc: 16.2k | genre: adult romance, angst | warnings: childhood best friends to lovers ; heavy angst ; death and grieving ; complicated feelings ; failed relationships ; explicit sexual content. the chapter contains heavy themes that could be upsetting to some. if you're concerned it might be an issue for you, please read the unabridged list of warnings, which also contains nsfw warnings. reader discretion is advised. this work is for adult audiences since it contains mature themes and explicit sexual content.

It had been such a long while, it seemed, since Chris had truly loved you. And you loved him in a desperate way, like trying to hold onto a knife not by its handle, but by its blade.

To be intimate with love, the true kind, also means being intimate with loss.

You grew up in a small enough town that most faces you saw, every day, were familiar ones. The employees at the grocery store saw you become a teenager and later, an adult. You were greeted by your first name if you stepped into the post office. You had become acquainted with specific trees, the twists of certain roads, or the lines of the mountains on the horizon. By no means did that make your life dull, not by your standards anyway. The town’s name is Stormhaven—named so by its founders because of the violent storm that raged the first night they established camp on this land. As grand and frightening as the storm was, it was equally beautiful. Something about the geolocation of the city or perhaps the fact that it’s located where the river melts into the sea makes it prone to storms, and they are, indeed, reputed to be gorgeous.

You did leave momentarily though,  to pursue some major you had no great interest in, but it felt right to try and do something. You were the first of your family to go to college. You thought, foolishly perhaps, that you could teach English—you had always been one to read books and enjoy the intricacies of the language in them. To you, words were no different than pigment, sentences were the oil that made the paint, and books were the finished product, the saturated canvas. Now, here’s the thing—you liked English and you liked art, too, thanks to a book you found at the age of 9 on your uncle’s bookshelf. It was your first introduction to the Italian masters and their masterpieces, and you were a little too young to fully comprehend it, but that did not stop you from appreciating it. 

You were the first of your family to go to college. Your parents owned a small general store on the north side of the city, where there’s more forest than city. It’s perfectly situated though—directly on the one road that leads to the good fishing spots. 

The river is at its narrowest there, narrow enough that if one spoke out loud, they could be heard on the other side when people stood on the shore. There was another camping ground there, and cabins, and if the river was gentle enough, it wasn’t uncommon for people to go across it to make new acquaintances. 

You grew up there, in this place loved by locals and tourists alike. Your family was friends with the family that owned the camping ground down the hill, and it helped make business good for everybody involved. 

It also made your summers a lot less boring—you were an only child, with aloneness often forced on you. And it could have been awful if the owners of the camping ground didn’t have a son who happened to be the same age as you.

Chris was always ‘the good guy’, which, at times, rendered being his friend difficult. Because you had to live up to the standard. You had to deserve it somehow. Chris himself never made you feel this way, of course not, it was only fueled by your own compulsion to compare yourself to him at all times. Chris was a good kid, smart, funny, and nice, and he looked good. It made him very popular with the girls on the camping ground. You weren’t particularly popular with the boys. Or with the girls.

Aloneness forced on you. Defining you, almost. 

Except Chris made sure you were never left out. He always introduced you as his best friend and brought you along even though his fangirls clearly didn’t appreciate you being around. Either Chris was oblivious to it or he just didn’t care—in any case, you spent all of your summers with him, from sunrise to sunset and sometimes after. Chris attended the private school in the next town over, so you didn’t see him a whole lot during the year. Still, your family visited his once in a while for dinner, and you and Chris would hang out in the basement to watch movies and eat potato chips. Life had been easy, once.

It would be a lie to say that everything went smoothly all the time with him. When both of you reached an age where hormones are raging, things got a little complicated. Chris got in a fight—a physical fight—with his best friend during a party. It was just before tourist season. Your parents had gone for a couple weeks for a long overdue vacation—they trusted you and Mrs. Bahng with the store, knowing you could handle it, especially since it wasn’t very busy yet. Of course, you threw a party—a low-key one, just a few people. Some guys from Chris’ school also came along. 

By then, Chris was a handsome young man, charming without trying to be, with a dorkish laugh and a good heart. If somebody had asked you if you had a crush on him then, you would have said no, but you would have been lying to them and to yourself. 

The party quickly took a turn when some of Chris’ friends pulled out the liquor they’d brought. It made you nervous. This was your house after all, and if something happened, your parents would never trust you again. You tasted vodka for the first time that night. First in a red plastic cup, mixed with some cheap lemonade, and after that, on the lips of Chris’ friend when he pulled you to a quiet corner to make out with you. His name was Liam. You saw him once in a while when he spent the night at Chris’ place or something. He wasn’t as popular with girls as Chris was and you suspected he was jealous of him, but then, who wouldn’t be? 

However, Liam turned out to be a little too insistent, touching you in places, and whispering things to your ear. You made up some excuse and fled to your backyard where most people had come to enjoy a small bonfire. You sat with them but your mind was elsewhere, wondering if you ought to let Liam do to you whatever it was he wanted. After all, you weren’t popular, and nobody wanted to date you. Liam was the first guy who kissed you for more than three seconds and who touched you. There might not be one after, so perhaps you shouldn’t pass on that opportunity. 

He did join you by the fire. Liam. He sat not next to you but behind you, his legs locking you in his embrace. It wasn’t even the worst PDA taking place in the group as one of your friends was heavily making out with one of the boys while the others talked. You participated in the conversation, not unaware of the glances Chris shot you a little too often. Maybe, after all, it wouldn’t be a good idea to have sex with his friend. Maybe that made him upset, and you could understand that—he had never pursued any of your friends and had always made it very clear he wasn’t interested in them. You figured he expected the same of you.

But Liam kissed the back of your neck. And then he touched you again and again—your waist, your back, your thighs. He held you in his arms and it birthed a distracting tingling sensation between your legs that you couldn’t blame on the vodka. “Come with me upstairs,” he said into your ear. And you did. You went. 

He kissed you even more in your bedroom, his hands underneath your shirt, his mouth sloppy and wet, too wet. It all happened very fast—you were on your bed and then he was on top of you and he was very hard. It happened so fast, too fast for you to fully process it. It only lasted a few seconds—two thrusts, no more. In between the first and the second, it occurred to you that you hadn't used a condom. And then Liam whimpered pathetically and it was over.

It made you want to throw up, or maybe it was the vodka. Or, maybe, it was just the smell of him—sweat and cheap cigarettes and his musk, which was rather unpleasant in your nose. 

You slid from underneath him, visibly dazed, and it made him upset. Years later, you realized he was mostly upset at himself and ashamed of his premature... conclusion. Still, it was at you he lashed out, maybe for not looking like you had just gotten the dick of the century.

“Don’t be like that,” he told you, shoving his small, softening cock back into his pants.

His sour tone, paired with the soreness between your legs, brought tears to your eyes. It made him more upset even. "What's EVEN the problem anyway?" He raised his voice at you, and whenever someone did that, it always made you cry.

Unfortunately for him, Chris had made his way upstairs, suspecting something wasn’t quite right. He tried to open the door but it was locked. “Let me in.” His voice was unrecognizable, to the point that it frightened you almost. You still felt weird between your legs, sore and empty and full all at once. And above all, unclean. Dirty. You wanted nothing more than showering and washing Liam off you.

“Fucking let me in.”

Liam was very drunk. Instead of post-nut clarity, he had been hit by a strong dose of dopamine that rendered him even less coherent than he had been before. “What is it, Bang? You upset I jumped your virgin friend before you could?”

It occurred to you at that moment that you had never seen Chris angry before, except for fun like when he was playing video games. But something in his voice let you know that the situation was very serious. 

And then he smashed the door open using his shoulder. What happened next would always remain a bit blurry in your memory, but it never left either. Chris grabbed Liam by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. And then they fought. It was nasty. Liam was taller and bigger than Chris, but he was also drunker—Chris, on the other hand, was quick and properly pissed off. Before you knew it, Liam was pinned to the ground under Chris’ weight, being punched repeatedly in the face. Years later, you would admit this to Christopher—that it felt good to see his fist sink into Liam’s face, to see his lip split open, to hear his whining. Still, you knew it was wrong. Something within you, that night, knew that Chris could seriously injure Liam if he didn’t stop, so you stopped him. 

You stopped Chris, too, when he threatened to reprise his attack as Liam was stirring up. You just wanted everyone gone so he made them leave. You heard more shouting from outside but paid it no mind and just went into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

You stood underneath the water, keeping it as hot as you could, scalding your skin, rubbing soap all over yourself as hard as you could using various tools—a washcloth didn’t really cut it, and neither did your loofah or even your nails. In the end, it was your exfoliating cloth that you used to cleanse your body, emptying your bottle of shower gel, steaming up the entire bathroom. But you washed and washed and washed and rinsed and rinsed and rinsed. You did so until you could no longer feel Liam between your legs, only your skin made sensitive from all the scrubbing. 

Chris was waiting for you, sitting on the floor in the hallway. You had wrapped a towel around your body but it was dark and you didn’t care. You could walk naked outside for all you cared. 

That night, Chris took your face in his bloody, shaking hands and asked you if you were okay. You felt strangely okay, like you should have been sobbing or afraid but you were neither of these things. He, on the other hand, didn’t look too good with bruises and cuts on his face and even more on his knuckles. “Your mom will kill you,” you pointed out. The Bahngs preached pacifism. They were some of the nicest people you had ever met.

That night, you put on some comfortable clothes and made Chris sit in the bathroom while you cleaned his wounds. He insisted he could do it and you knew he could but you wanted to. You needed to do something, something useful if at all possible, and he let you, apologizing the whole time for letting Liam come here, and for being his friend in the first place. “He wasn’t like that before,” he assured you.

People change. You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say.

That night, Chris tucked you in bed but you asked him to stay, so he stayed, holding you in his arms. 

You spent that summer working both at the general store and at the campground. You worked a lot and when it raised suspicions in your parents, you simply said you were saving up for college so they didn’t question it. Chris knew, however, that you just needed to keep your mind, and body, busy. So, when there was no work for you to do, he took you on hikes. Hours-long hikes where neither of you really spoke. You just walked side by side. The more summer advanced, the farther you went. 

You started talking again at one point, for no reason at all. It just happened. Chris told you about his upcoming school year and how he still wasn’t exactly sure what he should be doing with his life. That he felt bad he wanted to leave Stormhaven, that he knew his father expected him to take over the business. You felt the same way. You were scared of the future because you didn’t know what you were supposed to do with your life. When you mentioned it, Chris assured you he thought you’d be a great teacher. You returned the compliment, telling him he would be at home in business school, and that it didn’t mean he had to take over the camping ground. He could do something else. 

It’d be great if we went to the same college, he said, and you agreed. It would, indeed, be great. By now, Chris had become something to you that couldn’t quite be defined by words—a best friend? Yes, perhaps. But it was more than that. He took care of you in a way that was so beautiful and so deep, you knew you could never repay him, that you would always be in his debt.

You loved him. And maybe you knew he loved you, too. 

You worked a lot that summer, even picking up shifts at a gardening center in town, owned by one of your friends’ dad. You didn’t think your absolute need to remain busy had anything to do with Liam. You were over it in the sense that few girls get to experience a wonderful and romantic ‘first time’ and that it hadn’t lasted very long anyway. You were over it, too, because Chris was there for you. 

You were over it because both you and Liam were drunk and stupid and young. 

It wasn’t what troubled you really. The problem was that it felt good to be desired for once. You had wanted Liam to touch you, and you had been flattered to feel him through his pants when you sat between his legs. It had even aroused you. The problem was that you didn’t really want to fuck Liam but you let him do it even though you knew deep down that it was a stupid thing to do. Because it was still better than being unwanted, than having aloneness forced on you.

And you felt disgusting for thinking that way. 

You worked so much it made you ill—one day, when you were helping Mr. Bahng and Chris clean up a few campsites, you had a dizzy spell so intense you momentarily passed out, waking up a few seconds later, laying on your back on the soft soil. It was particularly hot that day, especially considering the summer was ending and you were returning to school the week after. Mr. Bahng made you drink water while Chris cooled you down, pouring water into his hands and pressing them on your neck and face. When you regained some color, he was instructed by his dad to take you home—not on foot, of course, on the company’s ATV. It was almost like a walk of shame when Chris dropped you at your place. You kept telling him you were fine but it didn’t exactly feel like it. You just didn’t want him to go out of his way for you. 

Your mother was home and she already knew everything because Christopher’s dad called her. She made you go to bed, saying she would make you a good meal with broth. But you couldn’t stomach the sandwich she made. Or the broth. 

There was a storm that night, quite strong. Chris stayed with you even though you asked him not to. He said he liked you even though he saw you throw up, and tried to make jokes about it. He made you laugh that night, and it was your most heartfelt laugh in a while. You weren’t scared when the power went out because he was there. 

By then, you knew that you loved him in a special way. It made you feel a lot of things when he held you in his arms or when he kissed the top of your head. 

You kept a small battery-powered light in your bathroom, especially for nights like these. You reached for it in the drawer it had always been, and instead of the light, your fingers wrapped themselves around something else, something innocuous, an everyday item. An unopened box of tampons. 

Your whole world collapsed around you, except it was you who fell to your knees, suddenly completely unable to carry your own weight. Your heart ran marathons in your chest and you froze. It was how Chris found you. He looked at you, then at the tampons, and at you again. 

Then he was on his knees too, wrapping his arms around you. The storm outside matched the one in your heart. You had never been as scared as this in your whole life. You didn’t even cry—you just sat in bed, all night, watching the lightning over the river, staring at the stormy sky, thinking, thinking, thinking. You went through every possible scenario you could think of, and in none of them did it make sense to remain pregnant. 

Chris, once again, was there the whole time, not leaving your side that night and taking responsibility for you the next morning. With his brand new driver’s license—not his learner’s—he took his dad’s car and drove both of you two towns away so you could purchase a pregnancy test. He was the one to go into a store and buy three of three different brands. “To make sure,” he told you. You did the first test and it came out positive. 

The second also. You didn’t need to do the third, so you discarded it. You did cry then, in the not-so-clean bathroom stall of a mall you weren’t familiar with. Just a few tears. What went through your mind was this—that just because you had been greedy, just because you wanted to feel desired for one night, you were going to destroy something beautiful.  

Chris was there for you. He held your hands while you made appointments. He drove you two hours away from home just to make sure nobody would know where you went, telling his parents he was taking you to some event you had never heard of. A two-day event, so it would require the trip to be an overnight one. They bought it. They didn’t even care that you would share a hotel room. Your parents trusted Chris. On the first day, you had a lot of tests done. On the morning of the second day, they proceeded to the abortion. It took about five minutes, then it was over. You stared at the ceiling as the doctor was ridding your body of the consequence of your impure greed. During those five minutes, you reflected on how selfish you were. 

Chris stayed with you while you rested at the clinic. You shared some juice with him. Sometimes the cramps hurt you so bad you couldn’t talk, but it only lasted a few seconds. He held your hand. When you were free to go, he drove you two back to the hotel and you took a nap after having a small dose of the painkillers they gave you. It was over but it had never truly begun, and it felt strange. You felt empty. While you were sleeping, Chris went to the nearest drug store and bought just about every type of maxi pad he found. You bled a lot, and it hurt a lot, too.

Chris ordered pizza but you weren’t hungry. You made yourself eat a few bites and showered in very hot water. That night, he tucked you into bed but you asked him to stay, which meant you wanted him by your side and not on the other bed. He looked at you like he was hoping you would say that.

Christopher kissed you on the lips. Just a kiss, lips on lips, almost chaste, and you knew then that you would marry him someday. He kissed you again on your forehead and you buried your face into his neck. 

“I never thought I wanted children before,” you admitted to him. “What if it was wrong to get the abortion?”

“There’s still time,” he promised you. There was a long silence after that, but he added, “You made the right decision for your future. We’ll have a baby someday, okay? You and I.”

You believed him. And you were happy that year, when you realized, finally, that you had let Liam do this to you because you wanted Chris to do it, and you did not think he could ever feel the same way. 

You weren’t accepted into the very renowned university Chris was going to, but your college was just an hour-long drive away so it wasn’t too bad. You saw each other as often as you could during the first semester, but things got complicated as time went on. He was more and more busy and you were less and less enthusiastic about your studies. It turned out, English and teaching English were two very different worlds, and you did not belong in the latter. You couldn’t believe you were being tested on some supposed ‘ways’ to teach certain things to students. There was no such thing for you—every person is different, so how could one even explain another’s learning process? 

You dropped out on your second semester, leaving in the middle of a particularly boring and arduous English Grammar class, heading directly to the parking lot where you had left your car. You drove all the way to Chris’ apartment, which he shared with two other students. He wasn’t home, but one of his roommates, Changbin, informed you he should be back soon and let you in. 

Chris was there for you. It made you feel inadequate. You were always somehow in need of him or of something, but him most often. You were constantly in his debt.

He soothed your tears and promised you that your parents wouldn’t hate you if you dropped out, but he suggested thinking about another major. “There’s still time,” he said. He often said that.

You got a job at a coffee shop and worked there the rest of the year while weighing your options. You visited a lot of places—parks, various attractions, art museums. The museums were your favorites—there was no museum in Stormhaven, obviously, so to have several options to choose from now was quite the upgrade. You spent countless hours wandering in galleries, observing, learning, feeding your soul, after which you went to the library and gathered some books related to whatever you had just seen. Chris joined you sometimes, but it was really just to be with you and you knew it. He didn’t hate art, it just wasn’t for him. It didn't reach his soul like it did yours. You went to concerts with him too, which he liked a lot more. 

He suggested you try applying into art history for next year, and of course you would love that. Only, you were the first of your family to go to college, and you knew that your very practical parents, aunts and uncles would find an art history major rather pointless. An absolute waste of time. Chris insisted though—he went as far as mentioning it during winter break when both of your families sat to share a generous Christmas dinner. As expected, the response was underwhelming.

But what are you gonna do after? There can’t be enough jobs. 

Can’t you read and learn all that stuff in books or on the internet? What’s the point?

Are you sure? Or are you going to drop out again because it turned out it wasn’t for you?

You couldn’t hold it against them. Your family. They weren’t even wrong. 

You took more shifts at the coffee shop, and in the summer you returned home to work at your parents’ general shop. Chris came to spend some time home too, and it was good to be back there together. He was doing great in business school and you were going nowhere though, so as days passed, your mood darkened. He didn’t let you close yourself off, making you tell him the things that were on your mind just to prove you wrong.

“What do you mean, not enough? I loved you before you went to university, so I’ll love you regardless. So don’t say that. I forbid you.”

You stopped saying it, you just didn’t stop thinking it.

The year after, you moved in with Chris and his two roommates. The plan was to find a place for you two but to be together in the meantime. You didn’t mind, really—Jisung and Changbin were good guys, and Jisung told you about a job opening at the bookstore he worked at. You liked this job a lot. You visited all the museums in this new city, too. 

For your birthday, Ji and Changbin even got you an art book. It was a long essay on one painting in particular, an oil painting titled Loss. The painting depicts a lone woman sitting on a wooden chair in a neutral-colored room, almost reminiscent of a Vermeer, but with bolder colors. The room appears empty except for the corner of a bed on the right, and a window on the wall near which the woman sits. She is looking at the ground, but others say she is looking at her hands which are intertwined, holding nothing. The true direction of her gaze is disputed, but her expression is intricate, complex, unreadable. Depending on the viewer’s mood, she sometimes looks simply pensive. Most of the time she appears deeply sorrowful, almost desperate. To some, she shows no emotion. Thing is—art historians cannot agree. Everyone is right. Everyone is wrong.

The true magic of the painting resides in the sunset filtering through the window—it illuminates the room intricately, the shadows created by it adding to the mystery around the woman's expression. The light is accurate in a way that makes it look so real, yet more beautiful than reality. Its painter produced less than fifteen paintings and is yet considered a pioneer solely based on Loss. 

One of the most fascinating things about Loss is that it is… lost. It was stolen in the 90s while it was transported to a museum in New York, where it was meant to be temporarily exposed for a special exhibition. Nobody knows who did it or where it went, or if it still exists even. 

The book mentioned this and so much more, like how the descendants of the painter had been the primary suspects in the case, based on the fact that they had requested a few times that the painting be given back to them. There had been lawful contracts signed though, yielding it to an art society, binding Loss to museum collections for yet another hundred years at least. Since it was an ongoing case, however, details couldn’t be made public. 

You had never seen it in person—and you never would, obviously—but Loss had become your favorite painting. You didn’t need to describe with words the emotions inhabiting her, the woman on it, you just knew you shared them. What you didn’t know, however, was that you would share them even more someday.

Seeing how interested in it you were, Chris took you on a trip for your two-year anniversary—a museum in Seoul was in possession of three paintings by the same artist and one in Japan had two. You visited both locations and he stayed with you as you stood before the canvases, all of them saturated with light. One of them was a lake, as still as a mirror, on which the sunrise reflected so beautifully you shed a few tears. 

At the very end of the trip, Chris took you on an evening walk around a vast park. That’s when he got on one knee and asked you to marry him. He did it in a way that was so proper, so cliché, that it made you laugh and cry at once. You said yes, of course you said yes. It made sense, didn’t it? Growing up together, growing closer. Falling in love and not even feeling it, just waking up one morning and realizing it’s always been there.

You and Chris made love all night in your hotel room, your bodies close and warm and beautiful. He fucked you hard, desperately, confessing how he had been in love with you since childhood. You had long conversations between rounds as you recovered. “Do you ever regret hurting Liam like that?” you asked him, your head resting on his stomach. Many years had gone by since the event, yet neither of you had forgotten it. 

Chris pulled you up so he could look into your eyes. “No,” he said. “I only regret not going after you earlier. I guess I was hurt that you wanted to be with him and not with me. In retrospect, it was stupid. I should have confessed my feelings as soon as I became aware of them. I should have followed you upstairs.”

You kissed him then, deeply, slowly, your heart feeling like it might burst. You found something rather poetic about all of it, and also fair. It was your hidden love that had pushed you in Liam’s arms, and Chris’ repressed feelings also had played their part. You wanted to forget that night and yet you could not, as though something deeply important had happened, important enough that it was still on your mind tonight, merely a few hours after your boyfriend proposed to you, as you climbed onto him to straddle him, never breaking the kiss, his cock growing hard under you, for you. 

It was as though that night had sealed something, putting both Chris and you on a path, and neither of you knew what the destination was. You didn’t mind going in blindly, not if he was by your side. He had always been by your side anyway, and you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

It felt easy. 

Too easy. 

The wedding took place the summer after Chris graduated. Half of the campground had been reserved for it. Friends and family alike came together to celebrate this union that apparently more than half the town had seen coming anyway. It was a beautiful wedding, underneath a blue sky and then the stars. The air smelled like the freshly grown leafage and the soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean, too. You danced and laughed all night, catching up with former high school friends, people you hadn’t seen in so long, introducing them to your and Chris’ new friends. Jisung’s speech was particularly popular—both very funny and moving, it was clear he had spent a lot of time writing it.

Some time between very late and early morning, you made your way with Chris to the small but cozy cabin you had rented for the occasion. Both of you sat in silence at the kitchen table in your wedding attire to drink some water and eat a few snacks. Chris glanced at you with a knowing smile, reaching for your hand over the table. You smiled at him, too. 

You showered together after slowly undressing each other, and you knew that you would never forget your wedding night. You sucked his cock in the shower and he gently played with your clit, kissing and nibbling at your neck, calling you sweet things. You started fucking on the bathroom counter then moved onto the bed where Chris ate your pussy until you came, and then he fucked you. And when he came, you kept fucking him until he got hard again. You would never forget this and you knew it. That night, you felt loved and desired. You knew it was much like a drug—those were feelings one gets easily addicted to. But you didn’t care. You felt more beautiful, more important then than you ever had. 

When both of you collapsed, spent, satiated, panting, Chris held you in his arms as he so often did, and yet you never grew tired of it. He kissed the top of your head. “Let’s stay here,” he told you.

“Good news then, we rented it for a week, you pointed out with a chuckle.

“No, I mean Stormhaven.” He shook his head. “We don’t have to if you’d rather go back to the city, but it feels at home here, with you.”

You felt the same. So you stayed.

You bought a house in the northern part of town, in the same neighborhood you two had been raised in. As the procedures took place, Chris and you also pondered over the careers you may or may not want. The city’s hardware store was for sale—you could take up a bigger loan and make it yours, you and him. Then Chris’ parents mentioned they were thinking about retiring, and now that their son was back in town, they would be more at peace to do so. 

So, instead, they gave the campground to both of you. That year, your parents decided to sell you the general store too, and for a very low price. They even sold their house and bought an RV with the objective of being on the road and seeing as many things as they could. 

Those years were good ones. Even though you feared things would slow down with Chris, they didn’t. Business was good, life was even better. One night, as you two were getting into bed, Chris watched you as you opened a new box of birth control pills. He took it out of your hands, looked at you, and asked, “Do you still want to have a baby with me someday?”

You thought about it for a few seconds. You had discussed this prior to the wedding, of course. The conclusion had been that you weren’t sure you could be a good mother, so you couldn’t be sure you wanted to be one. Chris understood, but couldn’t see how you would be a bad parent. He wanted kids, and this was something you knew before even dating him. 

Here’s one of the ugliest truths in life—sometimes, you want something. Other times, you want to want something. The two are very different concepts except the human mind, when driven by the heart, is completely unable to distinguish them. It is an excessively shameful thing to admit to it.

You didn’t know at the time. What you wanted and what you didn’t want. It sounded nice, idyllic even, the idea of it—raising a child with Chris, your high school sweetheart, in this house that you made your home in, in the town that saw both of you grow up. It felt right, like life coming full circle, except grander than before.

You didn’t know at the time. You only knew that you loved Christopher more than anything, and that if you were going to have a baby with somebody, it would be him. 

You didn’t take your birth control that night. 

A poet might say that one can only see light if there is darkness. And he would be right, but you would also tell him to fuck right off.

Your mother died when you were six months pregnant. A hidden heart condition. She died in her sleep—your father found her in the morning when he woke up. It traumatized him. 

One day many months prior to that, you found out you couldn’t stomach onions anymore. In fact, the scent of them gave you nausea. It was then that you realized you hadn’t had a proper period in a while. When you mentioned it to Chris, he took your hand and guided you toward the car. “Do you want to buy the test here or in Blue Harbor, like the good old times?” His smile was playful, but a little nervous. Truth be told, if you were indeed pregnant, you didn’t want anyone to know yet, so you made your way to Blue Harbor’s mall, just like you had years ago.

The mall had changed a little but you found a drug store, and Chris insisted he would go get the tests. But you needed other items so you went in anyway. 

You saw Liam as you were shopping for shampoo. He was wearing the store’s uniform. It looked like he was a manager of some sort, by the way he was talking to the girl behind the cash register. You froze, your breath and heartbeat coming to a halt. For some reason, you remembered him with a bloody face. He looked very normal that day. A little thicker than he used to be, just like the rest of you. 

He saw you, too, and color drained from his face. He seemed stuck between wanting to go see you and running away. 

You waited for the pain to hit. You waited for tears, even—you had cried so much after the abortion that you assumed you were scarred for life. But you felt nothing, which almost frightened you. You ought to feel something, right?

You took one step toward the cash register, then another. It wasn’t to go speak to Liam. It was to be there when Chris would go and pay for his purchases. 

Liam saw Chris and actually recoiled. Chris stopped in his tracks, speechless, getting visibly pissed off. But you didn’t want him to be angry. You didn’t want a scene to take place. You wanted the memory of Liam to have as little weight as possible in your life.

You took a deep breath. “Let’s hurry,” you said to Chris. “I’m getting tired.” It wasn’t even true.

Chris blinked, staring at you for a few seconds before putting three pregnancy tests on the counter. You added some toothpaste and shampoo, pretending Liam wasn’t there while the other employee rang your items. 

You made sure to flash your wedding ring and took Chris’ hand in yours. It felt good to make sure Liam saw it. So he would know you carried no parts of him with you. So he would know he didn’t really matter, not in your life, and not in Chris’. 

You spoke very little on the way home. You kept your gaze on the horizon, processing everything. You knew the tests would come out positive. You could feel it within you, this life that was growing. It had a weight to it, light for now, but still very much there. You just knew it. 

You peed on a stick. Then another, and both were positive. You discarded the third test, and Chris cried with you. Before that day, you thought you knew what unconditional love was, but you had been wrong. This—this beautiful burden, this miracle inside you, that was as unconditional as anything could be. 

The shock of losing your mother was so great that it sent you to the hospital, and you were scared to lose your baby, too. Your little girl, who you loved so much already, who already meant the world to you. Chris and you hadn’t been able to find a good enough name yet but that wasn’t important. She was healthy, the doctors assured you of it—it was you who was in distress, and you needed to get a grip before it affected your unborn child. 

None of it was easy. The funeral, then the burial. Supporting your father through it was the worst, though.

But Chris was there for you. He always was. 

He was the perfect husband, the perfect friend, and he would be the perfect father. You could feel it in your bones. There was no way in hell you deserved him and yet he remained by your side. He moved his home office to the basement and painted the upstairs room in pretty shades of green, applying a leaf-patterned wallpaper on one of the walls, turning the room into the loveliest of nurseries. Jisung and Changbin came to help with it, and having them in the house helped you a lot. Your father was there too. The house was too full but sometimes it’s how things have to be. Or else, aloneness would be forced upon you. 

You woke up in the middle of one night with your whole lower body feeling like it was being split in two—it was then that you realized you were just about to give birth. You panicked and yet Chris remained calm. He grabbed the bag he had packed for you and he drove you to the hospital, talking you through the few contractions that overtook you, not blinking an eye at your nails digging into his skin as you held onto him. When it got a little worse, he realized that none of what he was saying helped, so he made you talk. 

He asked you about art. 

You hadn’t been in a museum in entirely too long, but you kept your books and the memories of all of it in your heart. Chris asked if you picked up an interest in a particular art movement these days. He asked you if you had discovered a piece of art that you especially liked recently. You told him that while you hadn’t discovered anything, you had read an interesting article about Artemisia Gentileschi’s most iconic work—Judith Slaying Holofernes. Explaining to Chris the analysis of the art historian you had read helped you get through the worst of the contractions so far.

It also led both of you to agree that your baby’s name would be Judith. 

As you got into Blue Harbor, it felt, a little, like a fire was catching inside you and like it was trying to exit between your legs. 

You begged Chris to drive faster, but it was winter and he didn’t want to risk anything on the slippery road. 

So he asked you to talk to him about your favorite painting. 

Loss. 

Few things were known about this painting. It had been painted in Italy by a man who came from Asia to study Venetian art, but also visited France, the Netherlands, England, and more. He brought with him his wife—the woman in the painting, or so the stories said. They had a son, and soon after, a daughter. 

The daughter became ill, and she died. 

Maybe it was fate, or something much darker, but it was as you remembered the woman’s sorrowful gaze that you realized something was wrong. Chris assured you it was just the contractions but you knew it wasn’t. You could feel it in your bones.

You could feel it creep in, approaching, lurking—aloneness. 

They proceeded to an emergency C-section but it wasn’t enough to save Judith. She had been dead inside you already, they said. They said it wasn’t your fault. 

Forced upon you. Aloneness. 

Loss.

You never really get over it. Loss.

Some voids cannot be filled, they are meant to remain wastelands, barren, contaminated. 

Judith was that to you. And to Christopher. 

You’d swear he fell out of love for you the moment he saw his daughter’s tiny lifeless body being pulled from inside you. For the first time in your whole entire life, he couldn’t be there for you. You couldn’t even be there for him either. It was the beginning of the end, only, you didn’t want to let go.

You had dreams, terrible ones. In some, Judith was alive and well, in which case it made waking up the most difficult thing. In other nightmares, though, you were giving birth to her and she wasn’t much more than blood and flesh pouring from between your legs, yet you loved her nonetheless. 

One night, you dreamt that Liam came into the general store while you worked and stabbed your pregnant belly.

You went to therapy—separately, then together. It did nothing. Some voids cannot be filled. You both made efforts to appear happy, maybe in the hopes of faking it until you made it. Chris took you on dates, and you took him on dates. You hired a handful of employees for the store and the campground so that you’d have more time, but in the end, that also did nothing. All it did was give you more time to be sad at home instead of being sad at work.

Chris had it worse than you, or maybe he just couldn’t hide it as well as you. He ate very little and slept even less. He went on long hikes and usually came back after dusk smelling like sweat and like the forest. You’d ask where he went, if he had a good hike. He’d give you responses but nothing else. 

One day he didn’t come home at all, and his phone went straight to voicemail. You tried to rationalize it, to remind yourself that most trails didn’t have great coverage anyway, and that he knew his way around the forest. You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn’t sleep. When you heard the front door at four in the morning, you flipped your pillow so that he wouldn’t be able to feel how damp it was. You wiped the tears off your cheeks and buried your face under the covers. Chris didn’t stop by the bedroom—just a minute later, he was in the shower.

You missed him. And it felt wrong to miss someone whose scent permeated the bedsheets you lay on. You were losing him, too, and you knew it because aloneness was drowning you even when he was standing right next to you.

That night, you joined Chris in the bathroom. You sat on the counter, observing him. Condensation was gradually covering the glass of the shower but you saw him in a different light—skinnier, with bruises here and there, acquired on his long hikes, no doubt. He saw you but he didn’t acknowledge you.

There were thoughts weighing you down, and you knew that speaking them out loud wouldn’t help, but you had to anyway.

“Chris, I think it would be easier for you if you admitted to yourself, and maybe even to me, that you hate me.”

He turned to you then, water rolling down his shoulders. “I don’t hate you. I’m just sad. My baby is dead. Can’t I be sad?”

“You can be sad, of course.”  You stood, making your way toward the shower, sliding the door open. You would never not be moved by him, his naked body. You felt a tumble in your belly. “But you also resent me.” 

He had the grace not to deny it this time. He averted his gaze. “I don’t want to. I know it’s not your fault. I’m sick in the head.” 

You thought it must feel somewhat the same to be stabbed in the chest. Not even in the heart, no—immediate death would be merciful compared to this. Instead, Chris had pushed a serrated blade just two inches away from the organ, sparing you, hurting you more. 

“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it is.” Some truths are meant to remain unspoken, but you loved Chris enough to believe he deserved to know it anyway. “I wasn’t sure at first. That I wanted a baby. Up until the moment I saw the little + sign on the first pregnancy test, I wasn't really sure I wanted to be a mother. I just wanted to be with you.” You gulped, swallowing your tears. “All these years, I felt like I should have kept that first baby. I don’t know why, it just felt like it. Mind you, I didn’t feel that before the abortion, only sometime after. Almost like I knew it would come back and haunt me somehow. Well, it did. Life punished me.”

Chris took a step toward you, cupping your face in his warm, damp hand. Water rolled down your neck and onto the t-shirt you slept in. “That’s not how it works. You didn’t manifest Judith into a stillborn.” He lowered his face close to yours, kissing you, kissing you like he meant it. 

He pulled you into the shower, kissing you deeper, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you,” Chris said, pulling your shirt off you. And you knew he did. But he also resented you. The two weren’t mutually exclusive. 

He pinned you to the wall and kissed you, guiding himself at your entrance. You felt him grow hard inside your cunt as he fucked his despair into you. “Fuck me like you hate me,” you begged him. “I deserve it.” 

He pulled away at that, only to wrap your legs around his waist, picking you up. He carried you to your bed, leaving a trail of soapy water behind. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, burying himself inside you again. 

He fucked you hard, harder than he ever had, holding you by your throat or sometimes by a fist in your hair. He fucked you from behind, then flipped you over to look into your eyes as he pounded into your soaked pussy. You hadn’t known a life without Christopher and without his love and his comfort. You wondered how you would keep existing without it. You wondered if you would be able to live without managing to pay off your debt to him. Even as he spilled himself into you, filling you with his sorrow, you wondered how you would cope. 

Even with Chris toppling over you, his weight on your body, his cock softening in your cunt, you felt alone.

Jisung turned to the rest of the room. “Does anyone want more cake?” 

A few hands shot upright, accompanied by enthusiastic statements. The ghost of a smile appeared on your lips as Jisung began his distribution of dessert. This was how you liked your house best—when it was crowded with people you loved. On other days, it felt empty, bleak, too quiet. 

Next to you, Chris shifted his weight on his seat, glancing at you. You stared back at your husband as he forced a smile on his lips. 

You leaned toward him, a frown on your brow. “Are you tired?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, almost out of habit, and pulled you closer. “I’m just drunk,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a faint chuckle from you. “Are you tired?”

You were tired, but then you had been tired for years, it felt like. You simply shook your head, knowing it was good for Chris to see people—you didn’t want him to put an end to the festivities on your behalf. Besides, they were celebrating your birthday, so you would feel bad to throw people out.

You watched as Jisung went around the room with the cheesecake leftovers. Chris kept his arm around your shoulders and you let it comfort you a little, even though he didn’t really mean it. It was muscle memory. 

Those who didn’t grab cheesecake were now pouring more wine into their glasses—you handed yours to Arina—Jisung’s fiancée—and she filled it again, and Chris’ too. 

“I heard on the radio that they forecast a particularly sunny summer,” Felix said, speaking to you and Chris specifically, although most guests were also paying attention. “I reckon business will be good for you guys this year.”

“I hope so,” Chris responded, squeezing your shoulder as a public testimony that he still gave somewhat of a shit about you. Maybe this was why you liked your house best when your friends were here—because your husband had to pretend he still loved you when people were around. “We’re thinking of hiring a couple more people, actually.”

“That’s awesome!” Felix flashed a bright smile at you. “I’ll have to try and make time to come visit. It’s been so long since I actually walked around the campground.” 

You knew he meant well, and you knew Felix wasn’t even lying—he had been friends with Chris in high school and he knew the area well despite having moved away a while ago. You knew that at this moment, Felix genuinely wanted to come again later, during the peak of summer season, to see the area at its most beautiful and lively, but you also knew he wouldn’t. Because that’s just how life was. Difficult. He would be busy somehow. And when he wouldn’t be busy, he would want to relax. Or go on a date. Or watch a movie. And you didn’t hold it against him. It had been at least a year since you went over to his place anyway.

“Man, you really should!” Chris nodded, raising his glass at Felix. We expanded a little, to accommodate for trout season. It was too crowded last year.” 

You were about to comment how it was a good problem to have, only you saw at the other end of the table Changbin and his girlfriend, Naomi, exchange a long, quiet stare, then turning to Arina and looking at her wine glass, which was still full. 

Something stirred within you. You knew what was about to happen, and you knew it was probably within your power to stop it. Only, you lacked the strength to do so, and words eluded you anyway. Or will, perhaps.

“Say, Ari,” Naomi told her friend with a mischievous smile on her face. She spoke at low volume, not trying to overpower the main conversation, in which Chris was telling Felix about the sudden and unexpected rise in trout population in the area. “I don’t think I saw you take a single sip of that wine.”

You knew for sure then, by the way color drained from Arina’s face before she turned crimson in half a second, and from the way Jisung almost dropped the cake as he went to put it back on the countertop. 

You couldn’t tell what hurt most—the way Arina’s gaze looked for you but how she dared not look you in the eyes in your own home, or the fact that she was pregnant at all.

Naomi reached over her boyfriend to give Arina the gentlest nudge. “Girl!” 

Changbin took Naomi’s hand in his, pulling it under the table quickly, pushing his own plate of cheesecake in front of her. “Want some? I don’t think I can eat all of it after all.” 

Not saying it was worse. Jisung stared at Arina, then at Changbin, avoiding your eyes at all costs. Meanwhile, the discussion between Chris and Felix was coming to an end as they realized that something was happening around the table. 

You couldn’t hold it against Naomi—she was the latest addition to your friend group, after all, and she didn’t know. Or didn’t know a lot about it all anyway. And even if she did know... You still couldn’t hold it against her. There was no reason for the rest of the world to remain stuck in the past the way you and Chris were. There was no reason for the rest of the world not to be happy at such a joyful prospect. 

Chris let his arm fall back, freeing your shoulders. You felt very alone then.

You knew it had to be you. It had to be you who said something or else the situation would get even more embarrassing and awkward. There had been many moments like this in the past few years, so you knew your way around them by now, no matter how unpleasant. It had to be you. It always had to be you.

“Ari, is it true then?” The thing with sorrow is it often turns people into excellent liars. You didn’t like this about you, but you could be very convincing when you had to be. You looked very happy when you needed to. “Is it really true?”

A timid smile reappeared on your friend’s lips. After a quick glance at Jisung, she nodded gently. “Yes, it’s true.”

As the table erupted in congratulations and a full-on interrogation—How long have you known? How far along are you? Oh my god can it really be true?—you plastered a smile on your face and remained in your seat. There was something else about lying—you had to learn not to overdo it. Proper dosage was essential to how believable you were. You couldn’t jump in place and clap and sing because your friend was pregnant, then people would look at you weird. They would know you’re faking it. They might even deduce that you have been faking it for a long time.

The ghost of Chris on the chair next to you disappeared when he pulled away, as expected. You recognized your own rehearsed smile on his face. 

“I really didn’t want…” Arina began, then stopped mid-sentence as she was searching for her words. Or rather, as she was thinking of the least hurtful way to remind you that your baby had died inside you. “We really didn’t want to crash the party with the news. We wanted to wait.” This, she said to you. 

“It’s alright,” you lied. It was not alright. You hadn’t had a happy birthday in a long time but this one had just turned into a genuine nightmare, as you felt yourself fall into a pit of darkness. Or rather like you were becoming one. “I’m very, very happy for you.”

“It’s such great news,” Chris chimed in. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do, yeah?”

But of course, they wouldn’t want you to come near their beloved child, and you understood that. Because you were cursed. 

The news indeed put an end to the party, which you knew was justified by people feeling awkward. Or maybe they just didn’t want to see the color of your grief. Arina was the last to leave—she stood with you in the doorway while Jisung and the other guys were chatting by their cars. She spared you from another apology but she held you in her arms. “It’ll be your turn soon,” she assured. People said those things sometimes, and it was to alleviate their guilt.

Chris joined you in the kitchen as you were putting empty cups in a trash bag. He grabbed some plates and began rinsing them in the sink.

You knew you had to say something. You knew it had to be you, no matter how unpleasant. 

“The cake was really good,” you commented. 

“Right?” Chris put a little too much enthusiasm into his response. “Mrs. Allen makes the best cakes.” Mrs. Allen owned the only bakery in this part of the city, and everybody feared the day she would decide to retire. Most of her income came from locals purchasing her goods for special occasions or simply because they craved something sweet.

“She does,” you agreed. “Thank you for the birthday party, and for my gift.” He had offered you a hydroponic garden system, something you had mentioned being interested in but weren’t quite sure it would fit in your kitchen. 

“No problem.” He spoke at low volume, now loading the dishwasher. It seemed, for a few instants, as though he was about to say something meaningful. But he finished clearing the countertops. “How about I run you a bath?” 

You accepted his offer, half hoping for something that couldn’t be true, which was that he would join you. Except he wouldn’t and you were well aware of that fact. Most nights, he pretended to fall asleep on the couch so he wouldn’t join you in the bed.

Last week, he saw the notification on your phone. According to your calendar, your peak fertility window begins now and will end in twenty-four hours. You still kept the fertility app. Maybe out of habit, but certainly not out of hope—Christopher had never truly said he wanted another child. Maybe it didn’t really matter either. You hadn’t gone back on birth control and there had been absolutely no pregnancy scares. Not that you had been particularly active… Except that now, you were certain Chris wouldn’t touch you for a long time. Because last week, after seeing the notification, Chris kissed you like he hadn’t kissed you in a while. He lay you in bed and undressed you and touched you and you touched him, too. But he couldn’t make love to you. He tried.

He really tried. Until tears were staining his cheeks. You took him in your mouth. You got on top, hoping he would grow hard inside you. But he didn’t. He apologized profusely but he didn’t need to. You had learned to discern the hints life left behind. Some things were meant to be and some weren’t. 

How unfair though. How unfair was it that you and Chris weren’t actually meant to be if you loved him this much? If you had loved him all of your life?

He did run you a bath, with all of your favorite things in it—jasmine oil, candles all around, piano music playing from a small speaker. It didn’t stop you from hearing him locking himself in what had been the nursery. In what still was the nursery—absolutely nothing had changed. Not one thing had been moved. The door just remained closed. Always. 

Could you have been wrong all this time? What if it wasn’t Chris who was meant for you, but aloneness? What if the withering of your heart was your own fault? After all, Judith had been inside you when her heart stopped beating. It had nothing to do with Chris, or with anybody else. Still, it was all he saw in you—the place in which his daughter died.

He was right. It was all that you were. A coffin, a graveyard, a tomb. All at once. And it was all that you would ever be, for as long as you would live.

A crackling sound coming from the walkie-talkie on the counter made you jump. You inhaled sharply, looking away from the laptop screen to offer an apologetic smile to the two clients who were checking into the campground. 

You weren’t supposed to be here today—usually, on Fridays, you operated the general shop, and Chris the campground. Mostly because even though they were now under the same business, you were both more used to those specific establishments, having been raised into them. Only, it was the campground’s big summer opening and Chris was overseeing the event. There would be a concert tonight, by a local band who played covers, and games and other activities were offered during the day. 

Since food was involved, it was less likely for people to stop by the general shop tonight—so you left it in your most trusted employee’s hands, knowing Jeongin would be more than able to handle himself there. He was probably going to sell sunscreen and hats all day—it was stunningly sunny. 

You grabbed the walkie-talkie, walking a few footsteps away to listen carefully. It was Jeongin’s voice that came in.

“Boss,” he said, and you still didn’t know who he was talking to because he called both Chris and you like that. “There’s someone here asking if we sell paint, and I’ve just been looking everywhere and…” 

A faint click followed Jeongin’s question, indicating that Chris had joined the conversation. “Paint?” he repeated. He could barely be heard over the music playing over there. “Paint?” 

You returned to the clients who had finished filling out their security forms while the other two chatted over the radio. You handed them their keycards to unlock the gate and various other spots on the site. You didn’t need to go too in-depth with them—it was the third summer they came here. “Thank you for choosing us again,” you told them with a smile. “If you have issues or an emergency, do call the number at the bottom of the map and someone will come to you.” 

The couple—a man and a woman in their 70s—thanked you warmly and returned to their RV outside. They had rented a space for two weeks. They reminded you a little of your parents. Had they looked this happy when they were on their trips? 

The debate over the walkie-talkie distracted you before you could tear up, even though you missed your mother terribly. 

“Not spray paint, boss,” Jeongin insisted. “Like, just paint.” You heard a voice speaking inaudibly behind him, and then the young man added, “Not wall paint or spray paint. Paint for art. Watercolor?” He said the last word as though he was only repeating it while being wildly unsure about it. 

Everything clicked into place then as you finally understood what they wanted. You grabbed your radio and joined the discussion again. “I didn’t have enough time to stock up the kids’ section,” you explained. It was a mistake on your part, caused by your sleep troubles as of late. After all, it wasn’t uncommon at all for parents to grab a few toys for their children before entering the campground. “Most of the stuff is still in boxes in the back store. I know where it is, I can guide you.”

Jeongin’s line cut abruptly—he had let go of his Talk button. “Jeongin?” Chris asked.

He came back almost immediately. “He says no, boss. He’s asking if we sell real watercolor, not children's stuff.” 

You suppressed a laugh and heard your husband do the same. While nobody in the area understood the importance of art more than you, you couldn’t help but find it humorous that someone would stop at a very rustic-looking general store on the side of the road of a small city to ask for legitimate art supplies. 

You looked at the beautiful landscape out the window—the river, the shore, and behind it all, the mountains. As pretty as a painting. 

“Please apologize on our behalf,” you told Jeongin. “We don’t carry art supplies of the sort. Offer them a discount on their purchase.” 

“Thanks, boss.” And Jeongin tuned out for good, leaving you and Chris alone on the line.

You let a few seconds pass. “How are things over there?” you asked, either to make conversation or because you desperately wanted your husband to speak to you. About anything. Anything at all.

“Pretty good actually. They’re loving the lemonade.” You two had made many batches of it early this morning. Quietly. In your kitchen. Squeezing lemons and then weighing sugar and making raspberry syrup, for the pink lemonade. Alone. “How are you holding up in there?” 

“It’s fine. Every time I’m here, it reminds me of those mornings my mom would have your mom babysit me, and she’d drag me here and put me to work.” The Park Office had been renovated since then, but it smelled the same as it used to. Like cedar and pine, with faint salt undertones. “Should we start carrying art supplies?”

“Man, I don’t know.” Chris laughed and he sounded like he meant it. It made a burst of light appear in your chest, even if it was only temporarily. “Oh, I gotta go. We need ice.”

“Let me know if I can do anything.” But Chris was already gone. 

Your life had reached a point where you doubted that any ice was actually needed. You imagined Chris just wanted to find a good enough reason not to speak to you, just you. He fared well enough—and so did you—in the presence of others, as though they motivated him to pretend better. The first night he didn’t come back home, you thought he was cheating on you. In the end, the sound of his shower woke you up at six in the morning. When you asked him where he’d been, he said he worked on some repairs at the camping ground.

It happened more and more often. Then some of his clothes disappeared from inside his drawers. It happened over weeks, so it gave you time to prepare. To form some sort of shell to brace yourself from the impact of it. By then, he rarely slept in your bed anymore, preferring the guest room or the living room. But when he did, you barely recognized your husband. It did not feel like him, that person under the sheets. 

During your sleepless nights, you pondered over it a lot. You were well aware that Chris hadn’t brought up divorce because it would feel like a failure for him. Like he had failed this marriage and you. You knew there was also the whole issue of the Riverside Campground and Riverside General Store, now become one. The legal problems that would surface during the divorce would be awful, and you knew it. Neither of you had felt the need to get a prenup or anything of the sort. 

Honest to god, you had thought you would be with Chris for the rest of your life. And maybe he had felt the same, and it was why he was so reluctant to leave you. 

Sometimes, you wanted to tell him that it was okay. If he was seeing another woman. He wasn’t going to keep fucking you, was he? Not when you were a graveyard. You couldn’t force him to love you either. He had stopped loving you a long time ago—it just took him a while to come to the realization. You wanted to hate him. To resent him. But all that you could do about Chris was love him, no matter how broken, how misaligned that love had become.

There was this unspoken agreement that at work and around your friends, you made it look like everything was okay. You hadn’t told a soul about your marital problems and you assumed Chris probably hadn’t either. 

Every day you woke up with the clear intention to sit down with Chris and to talk. To make him say that this—all of this—made no fucking sense. That you had to get a divorce, no matter how cumbersome it would be. Nothing could be worse than this anyway. 

And as the coward that you were, every day, you found ways to avoid that conversation. 

A car coming down the road caught your attention, pulling you out of your deep thoughts. The darkness lingered within you, but you appreciated every occasion to be distracted from it. Even work.

The car—a black Jeep Patriot that looked like a rental—stopped at the designated parking space for check-ins. Noticing that, you made sure that none of the tears that had tickled your eyes had messed with your mascara. Unfortunately, it was a little smudged in one place, but you managed to mostly fix it just in time to welcome the customer.

A man that you supposed was in his mid-20s  entered the park office looking a little confused yet resolute. He had hiking attire—dark green cargo pants, a generic t-shirt, and a lightweight jacket. Holding his phone and often looking at it, he made his way to the counter slowly. 

“Hello,” you said before he had even reached you, prompting him to look up. He was, by all standards, pretty, with feline-like eyes and gentle traits. “Will you be checking in with us today, sir?” 

He responded to your smile with a polite one. “Yes. I made the reservation a while ago. Under Lee, Minho.” 

You typed his name into the laptop, quickly pulling up his reservation file. You raised your eyebrows as you looked at it—it was the first time you saw it really, Chris was the one who took care of this stuff usually.

“I have it here,” you told him, double-checking to make sure you had read everything right. “You made an extended stay reservation for two adults in one of our RVs?” 

The campground welcomed RVs on one side and tents on the other, also offering to rent either installation for those who needed them. Renting a fully equipped, luxury RV was by far the most expensive booking option you sold, and he had requested it until the end of the season. From the first day to the very last. 

“Yes, that’s me.” His smile became a little more comfortable, and a little warmer, too. “You seem surprised.”

“Oh, I’m just not used to it—usually, it’s the cabins on the other side of the rivers that get this sort of clientele.” 

You took the credit card—black—that he handed you without you having to ask. You actually had nothing against Pineview Cabins. People who wanted a cabin wanted a cabin, and those who wanted something else came to you. Besides, the owners were a mother and her son, and they were lovely.

“Cabins are for tourists,” Lee Minho said jokingly.

You finished entering his information in the system and gave the card back, finding it a bit easier to smile in his laid-back presence. No matter how long you had spent enduring it, you had never been very good at aloneness. 

“There is a form we require guests to fill—for security purposes,” you explained to him, sliding on the counter the form in question, secured on a clipboard. You shot a glance behind him, looking at his car through the front window, where you could see that there was someone in the passenger seat. “Both of you will have to fill one,” you added, pulling out a second clipboard. “I can go and hand this one to them while you fill yours if you’d like.”

The man shook his head, the corner of his lips curving up. “Nah. Let me call him. He can sulk about paint sometime later.” 

It clicked into place then—this man, and whoever was in his car, had been the ones who, just moments ago, were at the general shop asking for watercolors. 

“It was you!” You bit your lip. “I’m really sorry we couldn’t accommodate you better. I’ll—”

Minho, who had just finished typing a text on his phone, put the device back in his pocket and grabbed one of the pens to start filling out his form. “No need to apologize. I don’t know why he expected to find some legit watercolors here.” 

“Ah, artists.” You spoke in a tone that was clearly sarcastic but not offensive. 

“This one is something, for sure.”

As if on cue, the front door was opened by the man beckoned by Minho through a text and a little voice inside your head said, Yes, this one is something indeed. He was tall, holding himself straight with a perfect posture and yet in a totally nonchalant manner. Still, he was graceful. You saw it in the way he pulled the door open, in the way he took off his fancy designer sunglasses to put them on his head, in the way he adjusted his half ponytail right after. 

If Minho was dressed as though he was heading out for a three-day hike, this one, the artist, was the complete opposite. A loose white graphic tee hung on his broad shoulders. With it, he wore oversized jeans, and he even had another shirt tied around his waist, as though he had expected the weather to be cooler. A multitude of jewelry pieces adorned his body—a few silver necklaces around his dainty neck, many bracelets on his wrists, and rings, too. The ensemble screamed intentional chaos.

The more seconds passed, the closer he was to you and the counter, and you were utterly unable to take your eyes off him. Not just because he had just entered the room and it was a normal thing to look at someone who approached to check-in. But because you had never seen anybody like him before.

He was beautiful, and there was no other way to put it. His face was seemingly perfect—his big, dark eyes were scanning his surroundings as though to evaluate the potential dangers. The rounded tip of his nose complemented his cheekbones well. 

He had a pretty mouth—his lips were obscenely plush. Rosy red. Enticing. With a velvety quality to them. Skin like honey-coated satin. Hair like silk soaked in black ink. 

He was the kind of person who just oozed charisma. Effortlessly. The kind of person whose presence changes the whole vibe of the room. The kind of person everybody notices without them trying. Often, without them wishing for it at all. 

There was a point where you realized you should say something—he was just a few steps away now, close enough that Minho had turned to him. Close enough that you could smell him—he carried with him a strong yet not heavy scent reminiscent of amber and roses with woodsy and musky undertones. You took a deep breath but it wasn’t even to brace yourself to be in his presence. It was to inhale more and more of this alluring smell. It took everything in your power not to immediately ask him what his cologne was. 

“There you are. Here.” It was Minho who spoke first in the end, sliding the second clipboard and another pen toward his friend. Or brother. Or cousin.

Or boyfriend, maybe. 

You had to say something. “Hello.” Simple. Ordinary. A skeleton key of greetings. 

He briefly looked away from the clipboard to acknowledge your presence. “Hi.” 

He didn’t seem thrilled about having been called in here and you felt bad about it for some reason, even though you had been asking guests to fill out a security form for years now. 

“Sorry about this. It’s for security purposes,” you explained. 

“It’s no problem at all,” Minho assured. He was already halfway through his form. 

You gave him a quick nod. “And sorry about the watercolors, too,” you added.

At this, the handsome man reacted a bit more. He straightened up from the counter to face you. It felt, a little, like the air had been kicked out of your lungs. Being face to face, so close to him, felt like falling from a high place. 

He spoke to you softly, almost timidly, like he wasn’t sure he ought to speak at all. “The airline lost my art supplies bag and sent it to the wrong destination. I just wanted to have something while they manage to send it to me.” His voice was pleasant. Smokey and warm, it had a strangely comforting tone.

You barely understood the words he said, not because it was a difficult concept to comprehend, but because of the intonation in which he spoke as well as his pronunciation. It was so unique it demanded your whole attention. As if the placement of his lips at any given time, and the movements of his tongue as he spoke, came together as an orchestra that played an elegant symphony. 

“We actually put in the address of the campground,” Minho interrupted as if he had just remembered that detail. “I hope it’s okay? They should be sending the bag here sometime next week.”

“Or the week after,” the artist sighed, rolling his eyes before returning to his form. His handwriting was small and neat. 

“It’s not a problem at all.” It occurred to you then that you had things to get done to check them in, so you returned to your laptop to get to work. “We’ll let you know as soon as it gets here.” You bit your lip, torn over your curiosity and your pulse quickening so fast it frightened you. “Do you exclusively paint in aquarelle?” 

You reported your attention to your screen as soon as you asked the question, regretting it immediately. Like sending a risky text. Warmth spread at the back of your neck, reaching your cheeks and even your ears. Get a fucking grip.

He was handsome, yes. He was the kind of beautiful that nobody could ignore, yes. To blush a little when he looked into your eyes was one thing. But to be entranced by this stranger like this, to have your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, for your breathing to turn shallow in his presence… That was something else. 

At first, you blamed your many sleepless nights—you had a lot of accumulated fatigue, so it would be normal not to be in your right mind. Then you blamed your lingering heartache. The sorrow you carried with you anywhere you went. The wedding ring on your finger that felt like it weighed a ton while meaning so little anymore.

Then shame crept up from somewhere deep within you, tugging at your heart.

No matter how painful the state of your marriage was, you remained married. And there was nothing wrong with finding somebody else attractive, of course, but this felt different. It felt like you ought to take several steps back and internalize that no matter how hot and interesting this guy was, it wasn’t even for you to take notice of it. He painted. So what? He was insanely hot. So what? He wasn’t the first handsome dude you met during your marital life. He smelled good. Okay? He had pretty lips, but who cares?

GET A FUCKING GRIP!

You figured it was your brain trying to save you. You had known for a long time that your marriage was over and that nothing could save it. It had been such a long while, it seemed, since Chris had truly loved you. And you loved him in a desperate way, like trying to hold onto a knife not by its handle, but by its blade.

Your thought process only took about two seconds, but they felt like two very long seconds. In the end, none of this mattered—even if Chris divorced you, and even if this young god had any interest in you, which was impossible, you would still not do anything about it. If you hadn’t even been able to trust in your life-long conviction that you would grow old with Chris, then you were certainly not going to open your heart to anybody else. Ever. 

The man stared at you like he was thinking about his response before saying it. Minho was done with his form and handed it back to you. 

“He does a lot of things,” he said in the artist’s place. “I bought a painting from him. That’s how we met. It’s watercolor and oil, right?” He turned to the handsome man, who nodded.

“Yes, and encaustic paint,” he added, his voice suddenly a little smaller. “It’s made of—”

“Yes, wax. Hot wax.” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, feeling a little bad that he felt compelled to explain everything, considering how he looked like he didn’t want to talk to you at all. He was most likely an introvert. It used to be difficult for you, too, to talk to strangers. But you became used to it through this place over the years. Or maybe in a desperate attempt not to be alone.

He stared at you with his eyebrows raised just slightly. “Do you paint, too?”

You couldn’t help a nervous laugh from escaping your lips. “God, no. I wish though. I just… appreciate.”

“Then I’ll have to show you his stuff. Brilliant.” Minho gave his companion a not-so-gentle slap on the back. 

“I’d love to,” you replied, taking the signed form from the artist. “We’ve actually been looking into buying a piece for the main lodge, where we hold some events, activities, shows, stuff like that. We did a few renovations last year, and there’s a wall that’s just so empty and bland. Maybe we—”

Two things happened at once then.

Out of habit—and because you had to as it was literally your job—you let your gaze trail down the form you were now holding. You also realized that you were overdoing it with the conversation, talking a little too quickly just to make up for the fact that you were a nervous wreck. The guy had checked in using a black card. There was about no chance for you to be able to afford anything this young god painted, right?

Then your brain processed the words it was reading.

Full name: Hwang, Hyunjin

Hwang, like Hwang Naro, the painter behind Loss, the artwork that had been fascinating you for years. And he just happened to be a painter, too. For some reason. Loss dated back to the 1850s after all, so there was no correlation to be made. Hwang Naro. Hwang Hyunjin.

Immediately, you reminded yourself that many people shared a last name in Korea after all, so it was only a minor coincidence. Painting was a common hobby, wasn’t it?

“Uh, is there a problem, Miss?” Hyunjin inquired, leaning in closer to also look at his form to double-check.

It wouldn’t have felt any different if you had been kicked in the solar plexus. His scent invaded your nostrils and then your lungs, and it was so violent that you had to hold onto the counter. When he looked up again, you noticed more details on his face. The mole under his eyes. The faint lines on his lips. The other mole on his jaw. The shape of his eyes, perfect, intricate, elegant. Their shade deep enough that you could drown in them. 

You remembered the book Jisung and Changbin had given you for your birthday once, the essay about the painting. One of the chapters contained various interviews and letters from people who had known Naro—he signed his paintings without his family name. One of the interviews had been conducted in the late 1880s, by an author who would later publish it in a journal in the early 1900s. He had spoken to Cornelia, a maid who had worked for the Hwangs during her youth while the family resided in Leiden, a small city in South Holland.

Everybody in town knew that Mr. Naro was handsome and kind. He liked to visit the botanical gardens to practice his colors and florals, and some visitors went there to watch him, too. He would sometimes carry with him small pieces of canvas and hand out sketches to children. Mr. Naro was fond of children, and he loved his only son very much, more than I have ever seen a father love anything before. The women envied his wife and the men envied him, for he was a proper gentleman and loved by all. He and his family lived modestly despite the money he made selling his paintings and giving art courses. 

He summoned me to the courtyard of the house one afternoon. He was painting the sky, which was blue and beautiful. Mr. Naro told me he freed me from my employment. When I panicked, he said, “Fret not, Cornelia, it has nothing to do with your abilities. I am most content having you under my roof.” Mr. Naro looked me in the eyes and said I should take some time to visit places and fall in love, either with the world or with a man, or a woman even. He assured me I would be welcome to return after my trip if I wished, and that if he happened to be gone by then, he would ensure the University hired me. 

He gave me money, more than I had ever seen in my life, and a bag for my travels. I refused yet he insisted, no matter how immense the gift, disproportionate to what I thought I deserved. He said my heart’s color was Alizarin Crimson, with a just drop of Naples Yellow and another of Ultramarine, all of those softened in Flemish White. As he spoke, he mixed the colors on his palette, right in front of my eyes. The final result was a gorgeous pink that reminded me of the carnations that used to grow in my grandmother’s garden. He used that pink to paint a stunning bird in the sky, shading it with black and blue, defining the feathers also with white. He gave me the painting and said, “This is your heart. Do you want to keep it caged up here?” 

I heard he had similar interactions with other maids and even students. I traveled to France where I met my husband and became a dancer. I never forgot Mr. Naro. I never forgot Mr. Naro’s eyes, so dark they were more black than brown, yet soft, gentle, and sad. I wanted to be a painter so I could accurately blend paints to recreate that color, just to see it one more time.

The painting, titled Cornelia’s Colors, was now at home at Musée d’Orsay, and you had been lucky enough to see it with your own two eyes a few years ago, during a short European trip with Christopher. It had been given to the museum by the maid-turned-dancer’s descendants. 

But it was not the intricacies of the painting that were on your mind at that moment, not even the expert blending of the colors on it. It was the shade of Hyunjin’s eyes. So dark they were more black than brown, yet soft, gentle, and sad. 

You shook your head faintly, as though chasing away the thoughts invading it.

“Did I miss something?” Hyunjin asked again, glancing at his sheet. 

“N—No, it’s all good.” And yet, by the way they were looking at you, you were very much aware that your reaction must have been noticed. For a split second, you wondered what would be weirder—if you mentioned something or if you just moved on. “It’s just, your name,” you said before you could even really think about it. “You have the same family name as the artist who painted my favorite painting. And you paint too. So I thought it was just a nice coincidence.” 

Something in Hyunjin’s already somber eyes shifted, worsening the darkness in them. His body language changed in a matter of seconds as he stood straight up again, keeping his shoulders straight. He removed the sunglasses from the top of his head, ready to put them on his nose again. 

Minho stared at him, and then at you again. “It’s not really a coincidence, is it?” he told Hyunjin.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes so faintly you almost didn’t catch it. He took a deep breath, the exhale ending with a sigh—in the dictionary, under Bored, a picture of him at that very moment could serve as a definition for the word. You felt so bad you wanted to hide under the counter like you used to when you were little. 

“Guess not,” Hyunjin said with a shrug. “He’s my great-great-grandfather.” 

Too many seconds passed before you reacted—before the information even made it to your brain. 

You were standing in the presence of Hwang Naro’s direct descendant. You were breathing the same air as him, you were looking upon his divinely sculpted face. You were hearing his voice, coated with amber and honey. 

“Oh my god,” was all you managed, whispering under your breath, a frown digging itself between your brows. “I’m so sorry, I—”

Hyunjin waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.” 

Not important. Except his great-great-grandfather had been the artist behind the painting that you had always favored. The painting that had turned out to be prophetic, for you at least. 

“What are the odds though?” Minho, contrary to Hyunjin or you, seemed very enthusiastic about all of this. “I knew it was a good idea to drag you here, Hwang.”

By the look on Hyunjin’s face, you could tell he felt very differently. It triggered your brain back into place though, as you became excessively self-conscious. Of yourself. Of your reaction. You could understand why your mind latched onto any good or interesting thing it saw, because your life had become bleak and empty. Yet it was stupid to care about any of that. To this man, the painting meant nothing, and it didn’t appear that his ancestry mattered much more either. He was clearly annoyed with you anyway. 

With trembling hands, you reached for the keycard printer, collecting the two cards you had just printed. You slid them into their protective sleeves, which were attached to lanyards with the campground’s name on them. 

“Here,” you managed, also trying your best to smile. “These will give you access to everything you need—the entry gate, your RV, the laundromat, and the showers. If you lose them, just call this number here.” With that, you handed them maps of the campground, as you did with any new guest. “We’re here. Your site is right there with the other RVs.” You showed them with your index finger, but you felt your insides disintegrating into nothingness. “Just get past the gate and follow Pinecone Lane, you can’t miss it. You have a parking space at your site.”

“This place is huge,” Hyunjin commented—not to you, but to Minho. 

“Bigger than I imagined,” Minho conceded, but he was speaking to you. 

You nodded. “Yes. This is the tent camping site,” you explained. “Here is the main lodge, with the pool. This is the RV site. There’s walkable beach land all around this part too, and you can rent a boat or kayaks here.” 

“Jesus Christ, that’ll be the best summer of my fucking life,” Minho said with a sigh. “I need this vacation. I’m here to fish, I got a permit for it.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Minho had picked up on your unease and was trying to distract you from it. It did manage to slow your heartbeat a little. 

“Ah, fishing!” This prompted the smile on your lips to become more genuine. “Of course. Lots of fishing to be done around the estuary. I love striped bass, I haven’t had any in too long.” 

Your father used to love fishing and he would often take you with him. He would cook the bass on a fire with ingredients he gathered in the forest. Those were some of your most precious memories. You’d usually fall asleep by the fire and wake up at the back of the car as he was driving you home. These days, your father’s arthritis was preventing him from enjoying his fishing trips, so he just stopped going. And every year, you told yourself you ought to go fish by yourself, catch a bass, and cook it for him. You never found the time. Or the courage. Or the courage to find the time.

“I’ll make sure to save some for you if I catch any,” Minho promised. 

“Please don’t. Really.” You pressed your lips together, wondering what to say next. Hyunjin’s sunglasses returned before his eyes and they grabbed their card and map. “I hope you have a wonderful stay. Don’t hesitate to call or visit here, the main lodge, or the general store if you need anything.”

“Except paint,” Minho remarked with a clearly sarcastic and humorous tone, sending both you and Hyunjin into a hysterical fit of laughter. 

You laughed so hard you had to lean against the wall behind you with a hand over your mouth while Hyunjin clapped and called Minho a fucking dumbass. You hadn’t laughed this much in a long time. In fact, you couldn’t remember at all when the last time was. You wiped the tears at the corner of your eyes, waving at the two men as they walked out. Minho exited first, and Hyunjin lingered in the door frame, hesitating.

He turned to you. You couldn’t read his expression, not with the sunglasses, but his posture was more relaxed than it had been. “Just curious,” he started. “What is it? Your favorite painting?” 

Your laugh came to a halt the same way a delicate crystal glass would shatter into pieces if someone closed their fist around it. 

“It’s Loss.” You wanted to say more, but your voice remained stuck in your throat. And what would you have said anyway?

He stared at you for a few seconds and nodded slowly before leaving. 

There were still tears on your cheeks, but they no longer tasted like laughter—instead, they had the bitter yet familiar taste of aloneness.

... to be continued.

Note: I feel like I say the same thing over and over—but thank you. I could say it a million times and it wouldn't be enough. Thank you to my readers who not only put up with me, but encourage me as well and motivate me to keep trying to improve and to find my voice.

This story was, once again, extracted from the depths of my heart. It is with the utmost humility that I present it to you—when I started writing it, I did so with the intention, specifically, of not releasing it to the public. It's too personal, I told myself. And then I realized that every story I released contain other parts of my soul, and that this one was no different.

So, here it is. The ramblings of a woman who feels like she graduated at the school of Alone and earned a PhD in Loneliness.

Thank you for your support, and for your love. You guys are the best readers. You know this, right? Love y'all.

Welcome to Stormhaven 🤍

** please note that I will soon be restarting my permanent taglist from scratch as I only wish to keep active readers on them in an effort to put my time in the right places, considering the effort and love i put into what i release. by active readers i mean readers who interact at least a little with my content. i do not expect you to read every single thing i put out or to comment all the time. it's really just that there are many fully inactive/silent readers on the list! if you wish to stay on the list or be added to it, please reach out to me. ask is ideal because I can then tag your ask & return to it, but you can DM me as well! thank you for your understanding. **

taglist:

@abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @anylady-fics ; @b4kuho3 ;

@binstitsweat ; @cb97percent ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; @hanjingin ;

@hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ; @hyunfruits ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh

@hyuwunjinie ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @imseungminsgf ; @k1ra4a

@leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @miraworldsstuff ; @mmoonriseflowerr ; @naoristerling

@neosracha ; @palindrome969 ; @shywolfcherryblossom ; @skzfelixlove ; @starseekersworld

@straydhampir ; @suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

Repeat After Me | lmh

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐭, 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?❞

↳ When bad days bring insecurities to settle and nerves are anxiously aflutter, there’s only one thing that can bring you down.

↳ Female reader x Lee Know

↳ 3.3k

! Strong language, established relationship, essential pw/op, soft dominant Lee Know, body insecurity and dysmorphia, themes of weight insecurity, explicit sexual content, dirty talk, body worship and praise, body positivity, conditioning, breathplay, use of ‘slut’, creampie, adult themes throughout !

「suitable for 18+ readers only」  「© September 2022 by jl-micasea-fics」

“You about done in there, baby?”

Minho’s voice echoes lightly through the apartment, permeating the gently gushing flow of warm shower water that cascades from the silver head.

Work definitely wasn’t kind to you today. Indeed, it seemed to make an explicit point of kicking you about and neglecting the aftercare as one obstacle after another materialised on your already packed schedule, endless additions crawling atop the impressive mountain of paperwork on your desk. Couple that with the depressive state of your lunch more befitting a grazing rabbit than an actual human, your resulting mood left you irritable, fed up, and kind of done with the world.

If it wasn’t for the joy you knew awaited you at home—a slick, suave boyfriend that just happens to have a thing for all the curves and lumpy bits you’re specifically trying to shed with said rabbit diet—you’d be well on your way to the deepest recesses of a bottle of Rioja by now.

For the relief Lee Minho brings is far more effective than any alcohol or narcotic. Indeed, he is the perfect fucking sedative to days like this, and best of all, he knows it.

As an aside, Minho’s never made any secret of the fact that your more abhorrent moods turn him on. Your scowls, your pouts, the extra layer you throw on in your desire for comfort only sparks his desire to rip it all off, to dig beneath and feel the plush, soft canvas of your skin under his hands.

Though you have no need to today, you suppose you can admit to exaggerating your moods here and there. Putting a macabre face on when perhaps you’re not all that tetchy, pouting a little harder when you seek to garner his attentions. And why shouldn’t you, when it works every time? You’re far from noble enough to abstain on throwing a tantrum; especially when the end result is so delicious. Indeed, over the years you’ve been together, Minho has yet to fail in his efforts to lighten your moods, for they are nothing if not fucking enthusiastic.

“Almost,” you call back, sweeping your hands through your sodden hair, spinning slowly under the water, eyes closed in the blissful warmth of relative content.

“Well pick it up, dinner’s ready.”

That’s enough to get you to open your eyes.

“Wh— You cooked?” you balk.

Keep reading

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"Case: It's You" Masterlist

Pairing: Detective Reader x ot8 detective ateez

Genre: enemies to lovers, romance, eventual smut, dark themes, angst.

Synopsis: As a headstrong detective- forced to transfer to another Precinct after pushing your team, and superiors too far- your new unit is less than pleased by your presence. In fact, they are down right hostile, resulting in more time butting heads than doing your job: taking down the organized crime 'gangs' of your city. Once you finally get your foot in the door, into their circle, you realize you bit off more than you can chew- or maybe it was the perfect place for you.

Current Word Count of all chapters combined: 66,406

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five |

Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten |

Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen |

♡15.5- Spinoff bonus |♡

Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty |

Twenty-one | Twenty-two | Twenty-three | Twenty-four | Twenty-five |

Twenty-six | Twenty-seven | Twenty-eight | Twenty-nine | Thirty

If you would like to be added to the taglist, you can apply with this link: form

Big shoutout to my beta readers that are currently the soul motivation for this fic and remind me to edit: @flurrys-creativity @candypop1611 and @daemour

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Play with Fire

Pairing: Hyunjin x afab!reader, Hyunjin x y/n

Summary: The follow up to Of Haircuts and Hyunjin - After his visit to District 9 Salon, Hyunjin can't stop thinking about you. He reaches out to you and ends up taking you on a date.

WC: 5.1k

SS: 3

AU: idol!Hyunjin

Genre: Smut

Content Warnings: Intended for 18+ mature audiences, MDNI! Kissing, oral sex (cunnilingus and fellatio)

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @neverendingdreams-net

Part 1

After he left the salon, he had stuffed the receipt into his pocket and headed to the company practice rooms. All through dance practice it felt as though that little piece of paper was burning a hole in his pocket. Thankfully he didn’t make any mistakes, but he wasn’t as focused on his dancing as he should be - all because he couldn’t stop thinking about the message. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Hyunjin returns to the dorm after dance practice and flops on his bed. He removes the little receipt paper from his pocket and holds it in his hand. He reads the message and then re-reads it.

In case you want to do more than look ###-###-#### Y/N.

He crumples the receipt and tosses it to the side with a sigh. He should just forget all about it, forget all about you. While he and the other members are no longer under a dating ban, strictly speaking, it is still discouraged by the company. Seeing you would just be playing with fire. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs again. Maybe a shower will help clear his thoughts.

He grabs a towel from the linen closet and pads down the hallway to the bathroom. He strips his clothes off and turns on the shower before stepping in. The water is nearly scalding, just the way he likes it. He can feel the water washing away the sweat from his body while his muscles slowly relax. 

He closes his eyes and stands under the water for several long minutes, letting it cascade down his body. He takes measured breaths, inhaling deeply, pausing, and exhaling slowly. With each breath he lets his thoughts bleed from his mind until there is nothing.

Eventually, he needs to wash his hair and body. He squirts his body wash on his washcloth and lathers it up. The scent of lavender and eucalyptus swirls around him, enveloping him as he drags it first across his chest then down his body. The subtle lavender is soothing while the eucalyptus is refreshing and provides mental clarity.  

For the moment, he has succeeded in his goal of forgetting all about you. But all of that goes down the drain the moment he begins to wash his hair. The feeling of his fingers scrubbing his scalp immediately makes him flashback to that morning at the salon. 

You squirt a couple of pumps of shampoo into your palm, rubbing it between your hands before working it into a lather in his hair. While you work the shampoo into his tresses, you massage his scalp. Your fingers work a kind of magic that has all the tension melting from his body. It feels like heaven.

Every now and then, your fingernails also lightly scratch his scalp. Each scratch lights up his nerve endings and sends a current of pleasure rippling through his body. He can’t help the slight shiver that follows. He can feel his cock twitching to life between his legs, pressing against his pants. 

The flashback ends abruptly when the shower water begins to run cold. The water streaming down his body may be cold, but his cock hangs hot and heavy from the memory. He exhales shakily and shivers from the cold water. He quickly rinses the shampoo from his hair and by the time he finishes, his body has calmed down, but his mind has not. 

His thoughts race as he steps out of the shower. He dries himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading back to his room. He dresses in sweats and a baggy t-shirt before flopping on his bed once again. 

As he stretches out, his hand hits the crumpled receipt paper he had discarded earlier. He grabs it and sits up. He uncrumples it and smooths the paper against his thigh.

In case you want to do more than look ###-###-#### Y/N.

Before he can second - or third - guess himself, he punches the number into his phone. 

He’s always liked to play with fire. 

You were stretched out in bed, relieving your tired muscles. Your hours at the salon were long and draining, and your hands and feet often hurt after a shift. In the end, you didn't really mind though. It paid well enough, and since it was a high end salon, you'd get to meet the occasional Kpop idol or actor.

While you laid there, you opened your socials for your nightly doom scrolling. It didn't take much scrolling before Kpop fan edits began to show up in your feed. You double-tapped your screen to like a video here or there.

You abruptly stopped scrolling as the next video played and you saw a familiar face. It was a fancam of Hyunjin’s Megaverse dance break. God, he looked so handsome. You admired the precise control he had over his body. You were in absolute awe. And when he hip-thrusted in time to the music, well, let’s just say you felt your entire body flush. You let the video replay several more times - drinking in every single detail. 

Your rapt attention was broken when your phone vibrated with a text notification. Startled, you let the phone slip from your grip and it lands on your face. You let out a pained squeak and sit up. Who could be texting you at this time? All your friends and family live across the world from you. 

You scoff to yourself a little incredulously. There was no way the Hyunjin of Stray Kids was texting you. If you were being honest, you're not sure why you left him your number. Sure, you would have had to be blind to miss either his blatant appreciation of your body or his physical reaction during his appointment. He had flirted, and you had even flirted back. But still, you never would have expected him to actually text you. He was an idol and you were, well, nobody really.

Yet, against all odds, here he was. So you saved his number, took a deep breath, and texted him back.

You giggle to yourself and suppress a smile while kicking your feet. You’re going on a date with Hyunjin!

The next day you put on a pair of lacy panties and a short, flowing dress that ties behind your neck. There is a triangle of skin showing between your breasts and it leaves your back wide open. It’s modest enough but makes you feel cute, maybe even sexy. You slip on a pair of ballet flats and pack a pair of wedge sandals for later. Satisfied with your appearance, you grab your makeup bag and head to the salon to start your shift. 

When you arrive at District 9 you place your belongings in the break room before checking your bookings for the day, you have a full schedule of clients with hardly a break in between. You inhale a deep breath before exhaling slowly, preparing yourself mentally for the day. And then you put a smile on your face and prepare your station for the first client. 

By lunchtime you are absolutely famished. You run down the street to the convenience store and buy a kimbap and a can of milkis. When you return, you all but fall into a break room chair, eager to put your feet up for a few minutes. You pull out your phone as you begin to wolf down your food. You see you have a new notification. 

Skipping ahead to ‘darling’ already? You giggle to yourself and shake your head. Even though you’ve been busy, you can’t help but feel like the day is dragging on. Only four more hours to go. Hwaiting! you tell yourself.

With some measure of luck, your 4’clock, your last appointment of the day, cancels at the last minute. You breathe a sigh of relief and ask your coworker to give you a blowout and style. They loosely curl your hair while you chat about your plans for the evening. You explain that you’re going on a date, but you’re careful not to mention who you’re going on a date with. 

They add a finishing touch by pulling half of your hair back into a fishtail braid secured with a cute ribbon. Happy with the look, you thank them and spend the remaining time putting on some light makeup. Just after 5, you slip out of your flats, put on your wedges. After a final check in the mirror, you grab your bag and walk out the door. 

Hyunjin stands outside of the salon, leaning against the car he’s using for the night. He’s dressed casually and wearing a mask with a ball cap pulled low to help conceal his identity. He arrived just before 5 and has been waiting for you. As he waits, he nonchalantly scrolls through his socials. To passersby, he looks calm and collected. 

The truth is, he’s nervous. His palms are sweating, and a closer look would reveal a slight tremor of the hands. For one, it’s been years since he’s been on anything resembling a date. He definitely doesn’t think outings with the other members count. For two, there were nigh on countless things that could go wrong, and any number of them could cause a scandal. 

He knew he was taking a risk - maybe even a major risk - but there was just something so alluring about you. From the beginning, the moment he walked into District 9, he’s been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He’s always liked to play with fire. 

He looks up when you walk out of the salon, and the world seems to stop turning, if only for a moment. You call out a soft greeting, and he shivers with pleasure, his name never sounding sweeter than it does coming out of your lips. You look absolutely radiant with your hair falling in soft curls around your shoulders. A light breeze ruffles the skirt of your dress, allowing him a brief glimpse of your plush thighs. 

He subconsciously gives his lips a quick lick before subtly wiping his palms on his pants as he pockets his phone. He gives you a bright smile and walks to open the passenger door. 

“Your chariot awaits, miss!” he chuckles with a playful bow.  

He watches as you mock curtsey back to him and go to get in the car. The car is a little lower than you expected, and he watches as you stumble. Without even thinking, his hands reach out to stabilize you. Your waist underneath his hands feels just right - you’re so warm. The perfect balance of soft and firm. 

He can’t help but give you a gentle squeeze as he helps you into the car. You give him the brightest smile in return. It’s a smile bright enough to melt all of his nerves away. When he shuts your car door and walks around to the driver's side, he has to take a moment to adjust himself in his pants. 

As you settle into the seat of the car, you close your eyes and take a deep breath to calm your nerves. The air is permeated with the scent of Hyunjin. It’s lightly floral with a hint of something else - spicy or herbal? You find it suits him perfectly. 

Just a moment later, the driver’s door opens and Hyunjin folds his long legs into the car. He puts on his seatbelt and makes sure that yours is buckled as well. Then he gives you a bright smile and starts the car. You give him a smile back and he pulls out of the parking lot. 

You study Hyunjin as he drives. Even doing something so mundane, he looks stunning. He’s relaxed in the driver’s seat. His left hand is on the steering wheel while his right hand rests on the gear shift between the two of you. You didn't think you had a thing for hands, but you can’t help but study his hands. 

You observe the way the veins on the back of his hand faintly protrude and snake up his forearm. His fingers are long and adorned with silver rings. His nails are well manicured but unpainted. As you stare, you can't help but imagine the way his hands might feel on you - and in you.

Would his palms be soft or rough against your skin? Are his hands warm or cold? What would the cool metal of his rings feel like as he glides his hands over your body? What would his rings feel like pressed against your folds? And oh - how deep inside would those long fingers reach?

You can feel your body begin to heat up in response to your wayward thoughts - starting with a tingling sensation between your thighs.You shift your gaze outside the window and exhale a shaky breath. You loosely grip the hem of your dress in your fists and subtly squeeze your thighs together. A futily seeking any sort of relief.

Determined to keep looking out the window, you miss the way Hyunjin subtly shifts his gaze to you as you press your thighs. You miss the way he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing, before clenching his jaw. However determined you are, you can’t miss the way tension seems to rise in the car - an energy, a dangerous attraction sparking to life between the two of you.

Thankfully, the car ride is brief and soon enough Hyunjin is parking the car. You take a deep breath as you exit the car. Thankfully, the open air seems to break the tension between you. He’s brought you to the outskirts out the city and as he leads you down the street, he tells you about the little hole-in-the-wall BBQ restaurant the other members found. He and the others have frequented the restaurant enough to befriend the owner who always ensures they have a private room in the back away from the prying eyes of the public. 

Once inside the restaurant, he greets the employees with friendly familiarity and walks toward the very room he just mentioned to you. Ever the gentleman, he pulls out your chair to seat you first. 

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you tease with a smirk. 

He waves you off with a playful scowl, but a faint blush tinges his cheeks as he takes his seat across from you. 

You feel the spark of attraction flare back to life now that you’re seated across from him. As you examine the menu, you wonder if he feels the same. You glance up at him, and find that he is already looking at you. You flush as you meet his eyes and exchange a shy smile. 

You gesture to the menu and ask if he has any recommendations. You spend the next several minutes discussing the menu, stealing glances while the other isn’t looking. At restaurants like these, there’s a fine line between not enough food and too much food and neither of you want to eat too much food. After much deliberation you settle on an order of galbi and samgyeopsal with rice for the both of you. 

Hyunjin leaves the room to place the order, and you fan your face, feeling a bit warm. You’re certain that you must be flushed. When he returns, he relaxes into his seat, one arm across the back of the other chair while his other hand rests on the table. He flashes you a bright smile. 

“So, Y/N tell me about yourself - outside of your job what do you like to do?” he asks?

You spend several minutes animatedly detailing your numerous interests and hobbies - most prominently how you love to read and listen to music. You admit that you are a big fan of kpop and watch his face light up when you reveal you’ve been a Stay for about a year now. He puts on a serious face and asks you who your bias is, pouting when it’s not him. 

You've seen him pout before on live, but it's different in person. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his lush lips. They look soft and hydrated - absolutely kissable. You shake your head to dismiss the thought before it can go any further and reach a hand across the table to where his hand is resting. 

You pat his hand as you give him a sly grin, “there’s plenty of time for me to be swayed. You could still become my favorite.” In an uncharacteristically bold move, you seal your words with a wink.

His mouth falls open, whether in shock or rebuttal you don’t know, because before he can get any words out, the food arrives. The owner himself and another employee bring in the food. They light the grill and place the meat and tongs near Hyunjin then beautifully arrange the banchan dishes before politely bowing and excusing themselves. 

Hyunjin wields the tongs with practiced ease. You shamelessly admire him from across the table while he places first the samgyeopsal and then galbi on the grill. He then takes the scissors and cuts each strip into smaller pieces. The grill is still heating up when the meat is first added, but soon enough your ears and nostrils are filled with the sizzling sounds and tantalizing smells of grilling meat. Your mouth waters in response.

As Hyunjin carefully tends the meat, turning each piece several times, you chat casually. As time passes, you both grow bolder, exchanging flirting words and glances. You feel your face grow warm - whether from the heat of the grill or from the flames of desire, you can't say. Although you could wager a guess.

You're uncertain how much time has truly passed, but soon enough Hyunjin begins removing the first round of meat from the grill and placing them on the nearby serving platter. While he lets the meat rest, he starts laying the second round out on the grill.

After he finishes arranging and cutting the meat in the grill, he picks up a piece of galbi with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. 

“Here, pretty girl, the first piece is for you!”

You flush even further but open your mouth to accept the piece of meat. Your taste buds are immediately assaulted by the sweet, salty, and slightly smoky flavor of the galbi. The meat is so tender it practically falls apart on your mouth without chewing. You close your eyes and moan appreciatively. 

Hyunjin makes some sort of strangled noise, and when you open your eyes, you find him staring at you with lust in his eyes. You meet his heated gaze, with heat in your own gaze, and smile.       

You and Hyunjin take your time; both of you enjoy the carefully cooked meat, delicious banchan, and each other's company. When the food is gone, Hyunjin rises and offers you his hand, which you happily take.

You let him lead you to the front where he pays for the meal before opening the door and ushering you out. Darkness fell while you were eating and without the heat of the sun you find the night breeze just a little chilly. 

Hyunjin pulls you close and guides you back to the car with his hand on your lower back. Your interactions during the meal has nurtured the spark of attraction between you into a roaring flame of desire. As such, you're hyper aware of his hand against your back - the heat from his palm radiates through your body. The warmth spreads throughout your body and pools low in your stomach.

Like earlier, Hyunjin opens your car door and helps you in. As you settle into your seat, you know one thing for certain: your stomach may be pleasantly full, but you're filled with a hunger of an entirely different nature.                                                                           

After he slides into the driver's seat, Hyunjin types the address you give him into his phone. It turns out you only live a few blocks from the salon, so he knows the drive won't take long. Is that a blessing or a curse?

The atmosphere in the car comes to life with the unspoken sexual tension between you and him. Hyunjin feels his cock twitching within the confines of his pants. He inhales a deep, measured breath through his nose in an effort to calm himself. Instead, he gets a deep inhale of your sweet perfume, and he only grows harder. He grips the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

Traffic is lighter this time of day, and in no time at all Hyunjin finds himself parked in front of your apartment. He isn't ready to say goodbye to you, and it seems you aren't quite ready to part either because you haven't made any moves to exit the car. 

Then, it seems you both make up your minds because you speak at the same time he does.

“Hyun-”

“Y/N-”

He gestures for you to continue and waits while you unbuckle your seatbelt to turn and face him. He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath before blurting out, “Hyunjin, would you like to come up with me? I don't want the night to end yet…”

For several long seconds he doesn’t move, and he doesn't say anything. He's warring with himself - he wants so badly to go with you. He can't deny how intensely he desires you. He feels like he's burning from the inside out. Following you up to your apartment would just be playing with fire.

You, unfortunately, take his silence as rejection. Your voice trembles as you ramble, “I’m sorry if I misread any signs…I had a great time, but I'll just get going now.”

You scramble to open your door and exit the car, and this shakes him out of his thoughts. He catches your wrist and pulls you back, smashing his lips to yours. 

Your lips against his are so soft and they part in surprise. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between them, meeting yours. He relishes in the way your tongue dances with his. He kisses you for several long minutes. By the time he breaks the kiss, you're both out of breath. 

“Please, Y/N,” he pants, “I want you.”

He's always like to play with fire.

He follows closely behind you as you lead him up to your apartment, opting to take the stairs rather than the elevator for discretion. You're out of breath when you stop outside of apartment 14-3. 

You quickly enter the code to your door, and he follows. As soon as you're both inside, he shuts the door and spins you both, so you're pinned against the door, caged in his arms. He claims your lips again in a feverish kiss and you respond in kind. 

As your lips clash and tongues tangle, he maneuvers his thigh between your legs, pressing against your clothed mound. He can feel the heat radiating from your core. And when you begin to shift your hips, he can feel the wetness seeping through your panties. Each time you grind down on his thigh, you also inadvertently provide friction to his aching cock. 

Eventually he can't take it anymore and he breaks the kiss.

“Please, Y/N,” he pants. “I need to taste you. Can I taste you?”

When you nod, blushing, he picks you up, hands gripping your thighs.

He kisses you and then asks, “bed or couch, pretty girl?”

“Couch - living room is through there,” you respond breathlessly, gesturing with your chin. 

He gently sets you down on the couch and wastes no time kneeling before you on the floor. You lift your hips slightly and he peels your panties off, sliding his hands gently down your thighs as he goes. Thick strings of your arousal cling to your panties and he shamelessly sniffs them before throwing them haphazardly to the side. 

“You smell delicious, pretty.”

He smirks at the way your face flames red at his actions and positions himself between your thighs. His slender shoulders keep your legs spread apart. 

He uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart and takes a moment to admire the view before diving straight in. Using the flat of his tongue he slowly licks a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit. Your slick tastes divine - a pleasant balance between sweet and tangy - and he moans. 

He repeats the action a few more times, just as slowly, before dipping the tip of his tongue into your entrance, seeking more of your nectar straight from the source. He could get drunk on you - but it's not enough. 

He shifts your thighs to rest on top of his shoulders, sandwiching his head. He stiffens his tongue and thrusts it into your core, spearing you open. From this new position he can reach deeper, and he repeats the motion again and again. Licking, sucking, slurping. 

You're both moaning messes and he can feel your thighs quivering. 

“Hyunjin, more,” you plead, canting your hips. 

Happy to oblige, he slowly works two of his fingers into you. He scissors them apart and works you open while questing for your g-spot. At the same time, he wraps his lips around your clit. 

When he finds that area of slightly spongy flesh, he gently presses into it, massaging small circles into the flesh. Simultaneously, he uses the tip of his tongue to quickly flick your sensitive bud - all that hard work at learning enunciation paying off. 

Although your thighs muffle all sounds, he can still hear your moans and whimpers. They grow in volume and frequency as he pushes you towards your high. 

Your thighs clamp shut around his head as he pushes you over the edge. He drinks you down, not letting a single drop of your cum go to waste. You moan his name, “Jinnie!!”

He was wrong earlier - the way you moan his name in the height of pleasure is the sweetest sound. And he wants to hear you do it over and over again.

You relax into the couch cushions, breathing hard. You look down between your thighs to where Hyunjin is emerging, his face glistening with the remnants of your release. “Holy fuck, Jinnie…” you pant. “Wait, can I call you, Jinnie?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, before wiping the hand on his pants. He stands up, slowly unfolding his lithe body, and plops himself down beside you. He raises a hand to your cheek and gently turns your head. 

“You can call me whatever you like, darling,” he murmurs. 

You meet his eyes and smile before leaning in and capturing his lips. He tastes like you, but you don't mind. You deepen the kiss, licking into his mouth. When you eventually withdraw, you tug at his lower lip with your teeth, and he whimpers.

“You taste good, Jinnie,” you croon. “But I bet I know something that tastes even better.”

You slide off the couch until you're the one kneeling between his thighs. 

“What do you say, Jinnie baby…” You look up at him, eyes shrouded behind your long lashes. “Can I return the favor?”

You relish in the way he whimpers, “please.”

Your fingers deftly unbutton his pants before you lean forward taking the zipper between your teeth. 

“Fuck…” he hisses, staring down at you. “That's so fucking hot.”

You grin and hook your fingers into the waistband of both his boxer briefs and pants. You give them a gentle tug and he lifts his hips to help you slide them off in one go. You let them pool around his ankles, too distracted by his newly freed cock, which smacks against his clothed abdomen. 

As far as phalluses go, Hyunjin’s is beautiful. It isn’t the thickest you’ve ever seen, but it’s long with the slightest curve to the left. Like his hands, there is a protruding vein that runs along the underside from base to tip. His cockhead is an angry red and leaking precum. With each beat of his heart, his cock pulses and a little more precum oozes out. 

“Eyes on me,” you say before slowly dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock, tracing the vein, before swirling it around his tip and sucking hard. You let your tongue dip into his slit and gather more of his salty essence. He lets out a breathy moan. He can't control the way his hips jerk up, pressing himself further into your mouth. He feels guilty, stuttering out an “I’m sorry” but you pay him no mind, simply humming around his cock and pressing his hips back into the couch. Your display of dominance combined with the subtle vibrations make his brain go fuzzy. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he relaxes into the couch. 

Still loosely holding his hips, you bob your head up and down, taking more of his cock each down stroke. You gag a little when he finally hits the back of your throat, tears springing to your eyes unbidden. You pause for a moment, taking a deep breath, before taking him into your mouth again. You relax your throat and swallow him down inch by inch. 

He lets out a strangled cry and his hips jerk again involuntarily. You tighten your grip on his hips and shove them back into the couch. Pinning him down, you redouble your efforts until his thighs are tense and trembling. 

“I’m so close, please…” he begs. For what - to stop, to continue - neither of you know. 

You slide one hand from his hip to cup his balls as you swallow down his length. As you work your throat around him, he can’t hold back. He reaches one hand down to cup your cheek and emits a strangled moan as he cums straight down your throat. 

You swallow everything down before releasing his cock with a pop. 

Hyunjin knows he’s a goner as soon as he looks down at you kneeling between his feet - spit dribbling down your chin and tear tracks lining your cheeks.

You’re beautiful. 

This was supposed to be a one-time thing. 

To quell the fire inside of him

But this has only been a match in the gas tank. 

There is now an inferno that rages only for you. And he doubts it will be just a one-time thing.   

A/N: Hey all, I hope you enjoyed the 2nd part of Of Haircuts and Hyunjin. Thank you for making it this far. If you enjoyed, please let me know if you'd be interested in a 3rd part. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any of my work.

Tag list: @skzdust @catiuskaa

---

I'd be a slut for 3racha too

Who ever said fours a crowd?

3Racha X reader

word count:6,400

Summary: You & your boyfriend, Changbin, have both just started dating & he brings up the idea of inviting his long time & your long time friend, Chris, into the bedroom to help teach him how to pleasure you just right, since he was still a bit 'new' to sex, but you all forgot Jisung, their roommate, is also home.

18+,MDNI! smut below the cut.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

->SMUT WARNINGS: mxmxmxf, mxm, frottage( mxm), mentions of past encounters, PIV, oral (f rec), manhandling(??), praise, protected sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, multiple orgasms, size kink, anal play (m rec), anal(m rec) reader has a WAPPP, shy binnie, fingering(f rec), perv!Jisung, nipple/tit play, spit, Binnie is insecure at the start but reader doubles down & calms him down, mentions of a second round<3

->What better way to thank you all for 1K, 1.1K ANNND 1.2K followers than to do a 3racha smut? But seriously thank you so much, I haven't even been posting on here for 8 whole months & despite so many breaks in between you've all been so patient with me so thank you thank you thank you<3

You have been talking to Changbin for over an hour by this point in his shared apartment's living room, trying to figure out some boundaries, the reason for this being because you were both making out while a random movie was playing & you took it upon yourself to try take it a bit.. further, as your hand moves down to cup over his bulge, before the poor baby squirmed away from you, leaving you confused.

"It's not that I don't want it, I do! I just, I'm scared in case I won't be good at it, I've only slept with two people four times & I like you too much to disappoint you in case you don't like it" he murmurs, sounding embarrassed of what he had just said, avoiding to look at you sitting against the arm of the couch, playing with a loose thread attached to a couch cushion.

"Binnie, we don't need to do anything I'm more than happy to wait, but don't think of yourself like that, you're being silly, is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? cmere" you respond, pulling him towards you anyways until he shuffles himself forwards on the couch so both of your crossed legs knees are touching.

“It’s not a you problem so no there’s nothing you can do to make me any more comfortable, i’m just too nervous, i feel like i need someone to show me how to do it or something, wanna be good for you” he whimpers as he pulls you into him, his back landing on the sitting part of the couch & you landing on top of him & you cup his puffy cheeks in your hands.

"Binnie I wouldn't judge you for it, I've felt your cock before & I know you'd be just fine, promise! Why n-" you cut yourself off when the front door to your boyfriends apartment opens, his best friend of years & a now close-ish friend of your own, Chan.

"Ah, heya you two, why do you both look like you've seen a ghost, what's up?" he says as he tosses his backpack on the floor beside the messy, cluttered shoe rack & it's only when he says this you process how shocked you must look to have seen him, Changbin looking a bit startled too.

"Hi chan, you just gave us a fri-" "Hyung, we were both just talking about something n I wanna ask you something!" Changbin says, cutting you off, turning his body on the couch to look behind him enough to properly look at who he's talking to, & Chan just nods as he walks over & slumps himself on the couch, next to changbin as he angles himself so he can look at you both at the same time before crossing his legs.

"Okay so, I wanted to know if you'd, help me with something Hyung" he goes on & if you looked like you'd seen a ghost before, it must look like you've been placed in the centre of a haunted house at this point. You open your mouth to speak but Chan beats you to it by telling him to continue.

"Okay, so, Ah I don't know how to ask!" he tries to joke to shake off his nerves, before continuing on. "Me & y/n were talking pretty much, & we both already know that with our schedule it's almost impossible to have time for people & also, sex? & I don't wanna disappoint y/n with my.. lack of experience, so to speak & I don't want my first experience with her to be better than just good, so I want you to help us" he blabs out, his voice sounding 'normal' on surface level, but you & chan know he is exploding with nerves.

Chan looks at him & then at you with surprise, not really knowing how to react, 'if i say yes straight away will I look desperate?' 'what if this is just a prank?' races through his head multiple times & words semi permanently die in his throat.

"The offer is only there if y/n is okay with it too though! If it's a no, we can forget I even asked you, don't feel pressured at all, just an idea." he says to chan before turning to you & he rests his hand on your knee, caressing it, which helps calm yourself down & he offers you his cute, soft smile.

"Binnie, we really don't need to do this, stop getting into your own head, I don't want this to negatively affect you in any way." you finally speak up & Chan nods his head at your reply.

"It won't, I wouldn't offer or suggest it if it would, we really don't need to do it, it's all in your hands" he responds softly & you can't help but feel like he really is being 100% truthful, & of course he is, & you come to the conclusion that if he is ready to do all of this just to pleasure you right, you can't really not help out.

"Okay Bin, I'll do it, Only if you're also okay with it Chan, obviously, but also if you're okay with it Binnie, like.. fully okay" you speak & Binnie leans forward enough to take your hands, caressing those instead. "Of course i'm fine with it! What are your thoughts Hyung? If you don't wanna do it, it's completely fine, we can forget it ever happened" Changbin blabs, the both of you looking at Chan, his eyes already glued on you both.

"Lemme have a bit of a think about it & I'll come back to you a lot about it, it's a big thing to just say yes to" he replies before he stands back up & leans over to purposely mess up your boyfriends curly hair, chuckling to himself before he makes his way to his room, the dim, purple LED lights in your vision as you watch him close the door behind him.

***

It’s been a day since you, Changbin & Chan had that talk & in all honesty, it’s all you could think about. ‘Have you embarrassed yourself by saying yes so quick?’ ‘will changbin think differently of me for saying yes?’ ‘what if chan changes his mind & i look like a freak for agreeing without him agreeing’ are the three main things that race through your mind, no matter how much you try forget about it, it’s just impossible!

The guys are doing something in the studio at the minute, & you decide to try deep clean your boyfriend’s bedroom to take your mind off it.

You strip the bed, of course finding a pair of your underwear.. or two inside his pillowcase, but you don’t bother to even question it, honestly quite flattered that he is so nervous to do anything with you physically but doesn’t think twice about stealing your used panties to jerk off to.

You re-fold his messy clothes that have just been thrown into the drawers, not too many noticeable creases in them to the point you feel the need to iron them, before plopping yourself back on the now fresh sheeted bed, a bit worn out from all the work you’ve just done.

As if it could be called perfect timing.. or worst timing, you hear Chan & Changbin get back to the apartment & you quickly realise they sound completely like normal, giggling about stuff you don’t understand & you take a sigh of relief, thinking that it won’t be as awkward if & when you have to face Chan again.

They part ways as Changbin returns to his bedroom, his eyes widening slightly at the tidied room & he is quick to pretty much leap on top of you, pecking you all over your cheeks before holding his upper half with his arm muscles as he looks down at you, a hand of his on each side of your head, laying on the bed.

"Chan spoke to me by the way, he said he will help us, are you still okay with all of this? I don't wanna make you uncomfortable y/n & you can seriously tell me if you don't wanna do it, or if you have any doubts whatsoever we can just tell him we changed our mind, If i have to force myself to man up, i'll do it." he murmurs, a bit shy in what he says, not usually being so forward with you unless it's just flirting, his chubby cheeks flushed red & his hair still a bit damp above you with sweat from the gym not too long prior.

You are honestly surprised at the fact Chan actually said yes, especially with how long it took for him to come to a conclusion, not that you were rushing him in any way, but you mostly thought that because you hadn't heard anything, it would have been a no.

"It's fine Binnie, I haven't changed my mind, but I still want you to be involved, I don't wanna fuck another man in front of you & you not doing anything." you suggest, but it's not really a 'suggestion' & it will only happen if he is involved, your mind is completely made up about it & Changbin is quick to nod at your words.

"I was planning on that anyway! I don't wanna be a complete cuck y/nnie I still need to be taught!" He pouts before lightly knocking on your shoulder in the same way you notice he loves to hit his members when he's happy or flustered before he nuzzles himself in your neck, not caring that he is pretty much inhaling your hair, the faint smell of the shampoo he also uses coating the strands.

"So uh, when does he.. wanna do it?" you ask, taking the time to rake your fingers through his curly & slightly frizzy hair & Changbin leans into your touch, tensing when your fingers hit his sweet spot.

"He said to just tell him when we want it, why, you want it that bad?" he teases you & you jokingly push him off of you & he can't help but giggle.

"it's not like that Bin! Just wanna see you & also it makes sense to kinda.. do it now-ish? because Jisung is gone so there's more privacy & Jisung is usually glued to Chan's hip if not Minho's!" you murmur, your ears burning red as you avoid his eyes with your own as you then flip onto your stomach & your legs sway slowly back & forth as you reach to play with Changbin's poodle hair.

"That's true, do you want me to get him like... now? I don't know how to go around this, should I let you shower or something first if you want?" Changbin suggests, pulling you into him, hugging you & you move your head to give him a peck on the nose before eskimo kissing him, which makes you both giggle.

"I showered earlier, I don't know what to do either, we can just go with the flow mkay? It's Chan who's joining us, not the other way around so we have the power in our hands, if we don't like it or change our minds i'm positive he won't mind." you respond & Changbin nods beneath you.

"You're right, I'ma go get him, mkay? It only goes as far as you want it to, so don't be scared to tell Chan no!" he says as he wriggles from you & blowing a kiss to you which you pretend to catch before he leaves the room & you can't help but chew the inside of your cheek with anxiety.

A couple of minutes later, Chan is trailing in behind your boyfriend & he is wearing a lot comfier of an outfit than what you usually see him wearing to the gym, going for some plain grey sweatpants & a tank top & his wide shoulders & his big biceps that are so deliciously toned & the veins running up his arms, which you don't fail to miss.

Chan shuts the bedroom door behind him & Chan takes it upon himself to sit beside you on the bed, before signalling Changbin to sit on the opposite side, you now being sandwiched between them both.

"Okay so uh.. are you completely okay with all of this y/n? Don't be scared of hurting my feelings because trust me you won't, we just want everything to be completely clear." Chan speaks out, his australian accent decorating his voice which you can't help but take a lot more interest in now given what is going to take place.

"I'm sure, don't stress it, Binnie wants help & he trusts you to do that & besides, you're an attractive guy so why would I turn it down" you chuckle & Chan returns it, not being able to stop himself from blushing.

"So uh, Bin, what is it that you want me to 'teach' you?" he looks past you & over to your boyfriend, who is playing with a loyalty ring he bought you when he first asked you to be his girlfriend with his fingers.

"Uh, kinda.. everything? But I still need to be involved, y/n wants that." he says, a chirp in his voice as his hand tightens around yours & you smile at Chan, confirming his words & Chan nods.

"Okay, so what are your guys.. limits? Yes, no's & maybe's?" Chan questions, his voice trying to sound nonchalant but it's not hard to pick up on the fact he is probably even more nervous than you or Changbin are.

"Uhh, I can't really think of anything, oh wait, no cumming inside or wear a condom" you speak & Chan nods again, his eyes widening slightly, not expecting to have been having the opportunity to fuck you tonight.

"Okay, Changbin, I have condoms in my left side second drawer, can you go get me a condom?" he asks as he moves his hand to rest on your thigh & Changbin hums a yes response before leaving & Chan takes it upon himself to lean in & kiss you the second you look at him & both of your lips fall into place pretty much instantly.

You're quick to notice how soft his lips are around yours as he takes control of it, you get so lost in it you barely register the fact that your boyfriend had already made his way back into the room.

"You guys look hot together, I don't know if i should be extremely turned on or jealous" Changbin remarks, his dimples poking in his cheeks as he sits behind you this time before pulling you up the bed so you're sitting between his spread legs with your back against his chest & Chan is quick to follow, setting himself facing you between your own legs.

"Maybe you just have a kink for it, can see the edge of your cock under the side of your sweatpants" Chan replies, chuckling. "I can feel it too" you respond & Changbin tuts at your teasing, hiding his face in your neck as he starts kissing the soft skin, the faint smell of body wash still scenting it.

"So I'm right in saying you've obviously kissed before so I don't need to teach you both that, why not you try touching her, Bin? Watch." Chan says in a soft voice as he grabs one of Changbins hands that are resting on your waist & brings it up to your left tit over your clothes & Chan takes a hold of your right one & they both feel & then find your nipples from above your shirt & they both quickly notice you've not put a bra on & Chan subconsciously bites hit bottom lip, buzzing at the thought.

"Try twisting it like this, not too much but have a firm grip on it, rub your thumb over the bud, you can lick your fingers too, makes it nice n wet, can I lift your shirt y/n?" Chan asks, his other hand running along the hem of your... Changbin's shirt that you've stolen for yourself & you nod at his request.

"Bin, can you take it off for us?" he chirps, looking at the man behind you, who is looking not back at him, but instead down at Chan's fingers, following not only hi words but mirroring his actions, almost in a daze before he snaps out of it at the sudden question & nods his head rapidly & you raise your arms up to help your boyfriend strip you.

Your nipples stiffen up at the feel of the air around you all but you don't ponder on it as their fingers resume their place on your tits, & you melt into the touch as you lean further into Changbin, soaking yourself in the feeling, finding comfort in the rapid heart beats coming from his chest.

"Gonna go further now, alright?" chan speaks up & you nod your head, your eyes not bothering to open your eyes & you can feel your boyfriend nodding behind you, his fingers not stopping their actions on your hard bud.

Chan licks his fingers before bringing it back to your nipple before bringing his other hand to your skin, slowly dragging it down your naked stomach & waist, before bringing his hand to the waistband of your baggy shorts & Changbin takes the time to pat you on the cheek & when you open your eyes, Chan is looking up at you, nonverbally asking you if he can continue/

"Go on, please" you murmur as you spread your legs that tiny bit extra & Chan smirks up at you both before he makes quick work of removing your shorts completely, now leaving you completely nude now since you also so happen to have chose to not wear underwear & your legs quiver at the cold hair hitting your core, already dripping at this point, & Chan is quick to tell you how wet you are.

"Bin, come sit around here" Chan speaks & Changbin lets out a small whimper as he forces himself to detach himself from your nipple, which in his humble opinion, is probably the prettiest thing he has ever seen that isn't your face, but his opinion is quick to change when he crawls to sit himself down next to his friend as you help give them more room by shuffling upwards just enough so you can lay your head on the pillows.

You try to shut your legs, feeling awkward & shy at the two men staring at your naked cunt, clenching around nothing but Chan is quick to stop you from shutting them, holding them open.

"Keep em open pretty, look how wet you are, you're lucky Bin, gonna show you how to touch her & eat her, okay?" Chan speaks to Bin & when your eyes land on your boyfriend, you can tell how nervous he is & when he rests his hand on your knee, you stretch your arm to hold onto his.

"Speak Bin, just relax, it's just us, you need to focus if you wanna learn" he doubles down, tapping his friends arm, snapping him out of whatever trance he's in.

"Can't help but daydream, you're to pretty." not talking directly to Chan, but you instead & you hide your face in your arm.

"I know, like I just said you're real lucky, watch my hand mkay? You wanna tease a bit first, makes it more interesting." chan chirps as his fingers finish trailing down your skin, now landing on your outer lips of your cunt before he starts slowly spreading your wetness, not as if you'd even need it anyways since you're beyond gushing anyway & the sensation of his slightly calloused fingers dragging across your pussy but you physically twitch when his fingers finally directly land on your clit.

"Here's where the clit is, it's the easiest way to make a girl cum so make sure you actually remember where it is & find out, it's uncomfortable for the girl if you rub next to it, but don't do it too rough or hard because it's really sensitive, like this." Chan further continues as he starts visibly demonstrating as he speaks, his index & middle finger rubbing slow circles on your clit, making you whimper & both of their eyes shoot up to you at the sound, both of their cocks getting even harder if it was possible.

"You can tell if they actually feel good by their reactions, you can see her pussy clenching around nothing, do you know how to finger a girl Bin?" he asks, not bothering to let his eyes become unglued from your pussy, his fingers already drenched in your wetness.

"I've watched tutorials on pornhub & I've done it with the very few fucks i've had, i know how to" he stutters as he feels the need to bring his own fingers to your pussy, it looking far too inviting for him to keep his paws off & you instantly feel as if your skin is on fire.

Chan takes the opportunity to remove his fingers from your clit & you let out a whimper at the loss of contact as your hips try chase his fingers but it's short lived as your boyfriend's fingers take their place & start working at their own pace, different but not bad.

His fingers are a bit more clumsy than Chans despite him concentrating that tiny bit extra but your butterflies are intensified a billion times more by knowing it's him touching you & you can't stop yourself from looking down to look at the pretty boy in front of you playing with you like this & without him looking away from you, he leans down just enough so he can perfectly let a glob of spit land on your clit & you jolt.

"Binnie, want your tongue." you mumble, trying to keep your composure, nibbling on your bottom lip. "Wanna taste you" he replies, sounding more dazed than you are before he is moving his hand away from you & you quickly sit up & start tugging at his shirt & he quickly takes the hint & takes it off & you flop yourself backwards again as Changbin lays down between your legs, his face just centimetres away from your pussy, your wetness already causing a wet patch on the bedsheets.

Chan takes it upon himself to crawl up your frame & sits on the back of his knees before pinching a nipple with his right hand as he brings his left hand down to your cunt, pulling the skin upwards, exposing your already swollen clit just that tiny bit extra to help his friend.

Changbin takes a moment or two to just simply admire how gorgeous your pussy really is, & he has to mentally slap himself because of how long he's put off sex because of his own nerves, not knowing that literal perfection was so close to him.

Before he can doubt himself, he lets his lips suction onto your pudgy clit as he starts swirling his tongue around it & you instantly doubt the claim that he's bad at sex because he is acting like a natural.

"Fuck Bin, tongue is good" you whimper, your voice shaky as he slurps up your juices along with the pool of spit that's uncontrollably rolling off his tongue & your fingers weave into his curly hair.

"He making you feel good, babe?" Chan questions as he brushes the now damp hair from your face & he looks down at you with a cheeky smile, but you're too out of it to snap back at him, instead, you look down at his sweatpants that he's still wearing & you can easily see the huge boner he's sporting & you can't stop yourself from reaching to start pawing at them, & thankfully he takes the hint.

Chan takes his sweatpants off, leaving him in just his boxers. "Off cha, th-those too" you fight the words through your moans & but he does as you say & takes off his tank top too while he's at it, now totally naked too but instead of joining you both back on the bed, Chan is walking over to the bedroom door & opening it, & much to your shock, but not to chan or changbins, Jisung is standing right outside the door with his leaky cock in his hand, now frozen in place.

"I thought I heard you whining outside, we're busy & I thought you were with Leeknow?" Chan speaks, a complete monotone voice, almost as if he's not standing completely naked with his heavy, veiny cock in his hand.

"W-wanted to j-just listen, can I join? s-sounds pretty." he murmurs, his big boba eyes darting from you, to chan & then to changbin, just to repeat the motion over again & Changbin has detached his pretty lip from your clit, breaking the suction seal on your pussy before rubbing your clit with his fingers again, the feeling more intense with how sensitive his tongue has made it as you start grinding against him, unable to even think of a response to give Jisung.

"It's not my choice, it's y/nnies, but I don't think she's able to talk, I'm teaching Bin well, aren't I?" Chan asks, hinting a response for Bin & he let's himself enter not one but two fingers into your cunt before quickly setting a decent pace, his other hand's thumb flicking your clit at the same pace as best as he can.

"So well hyung, ask y/n it's her who to ask" Changbin chirps, his voice flushed out as he slows down the grinding on the mattress as he looks at the doorway & Jisung fixates his eyes on you, teary.

"Just c-come in -fuck bin, come in Jisung" you cry out & Jisung pretty much gallops into the room, past his naked friend & he pretty much hops onto the bed as he shakes his clothes off & chan makes quick work of following him, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Changbin doesn't bother to ponder on the fact that Jisung is now here, instead completely focused on the way you're clenching around his chubby fingers, feeling your orgasm bubble up, it feeling different to when you're just masterbating on your own.

"Bin, think i-ima cum, so goodd" you squeak as you grip onto Jisungs arm beside you without thinking & Changbin's ego gets boosted by the words you spit out & he takes the chance to suckle back on your clit again, making sure to pull on the pudge of it to get better access, just like what Chan did & your legs convulse around his head as you try to force yourself to keep them open, but Jisung takes it upon himself to straddle you with his back facing you, holding your legs open, also giving himself a perfect view of his friends tongue & lips engulfing your pussy.

"Cum for us babe, if it feels good just let go" Chan remarks & you look up at him with glossy eyes, dazed & fucked out as you let out a squeal as you bubble over, your orgasm flushing throughout your entire body as your toes curl around him & your fingers clench so hard around his fingers he's force to pull them out, a white cream ring around the base of his fingers.

Jisung reaches down to grab at Changbin's wrist before pulling the fingers that just fucked you up to his mouth before licking your own orgasm off of them, groaning at the taste, his drool coating his fingers & he takes it upon himself to tease you all by gagging on his fingers but to not really anyones surprise, Changbin just looks up at him in awe, his fingers finally slowing down on your clit, letting you come down from your orgasm, which he learned to do from porn.

"Did so well for us y/nnie, do you wanna keep going? We can stop here if you're too worn out we can do this another day if it's too much, no stress." Chan speaks out as he pulls Jisung off of you & onto the place on the bed he just was, Jisung laying next to you now & he turns his head to give you a smile, which you mirror.

"Wanna keep going, want you Bin." you make grabby hands & Bin crawls up your frame to kiss you & that's when you feel that he still has his sweatpants on & he doesn't even need to be asked before he's taking them off along with his boxers, his thick cock hitting against his toned tummy, making you drool.

"Want to feel you so bad Bin, please binnie." you murmur as he holds himself above you before he leans down to kiss you, but you're both interrupted by the sounds of Jisung & Chan moaning beside you & when you turn to look, Chan has his own & Jisungs cock wrapped in his palms as they grind against each other, using their own precum as lube & with how wet their cocks are, they could give you a run for your money & you'd be lying if you said you aren't even more turned on now, Jisungs legs wrapped around Chans ripped frame as Chans thick cock almost hides Jisungs with the size difference as their sensitive tips bash & glide against one anothers.

You can feel Changbin freeze up a bit when you reach down to grip his cock with your hand when you try align it with your cunt & you reach to caress his cheek. "It's alright Binnie, you've already made me cum you're good!" you pretty much cheer, your voice soft & Chan can't help but overhear it & he has a bright idea.

"I'll guide you Bin, Jisung you're gonna help us, mkay?" Chan asks & Jisung already knows where it's going & he nods with stars in his eyes as he flips around so he's on his knees before dropping from his hands so he's arched, his already stretched hole on display for Chan & Changbin to see & you can't help but feel a bit left out that you can't see it from where you're laying down.

Changbin & you look over at the sight, honestly extremely surprised at how... comfortable they are to do this with one another.

"Are we missing something? Do you guys hook up & none of us knew this?" you giggle & Jisung lets out a pouty whine, turning his face away from you to avoid your gazes.

"There's nothing wrong with having fun on our own, like Changbin's said, being idols give us a horribly busy schedule!" he whips back at you as he makes quick work of grabbing the condom that Changbin collected earlier from the floor & he rips open the packet before rolling the condom onto his cock.

"it's easy Bin, promise. Everyone obviously has a G-spot & you need to try find it, it's more spongey but if you've felt it with your fingers, your cock will definitely reach it so don't stress, go in slow & then pick up the pace, & don't just have messy thrusts you gotta keep a rhythm" Chan instructs as he takes his own cock in his hand & aligns it up with Jisungs already lubed hole, from when he was actually prepping himself just before he started jerking off outside the door.

Changbin stumbles with his hands for a minute before he copies his hyung in the room, not only his heart but also your heart racing as he decides to beat Chan to the chase & he pushes himself inside you, the width of his cock a huge stretch to just his fingers, & Changbin stalls inside you half way, partly to let you adjust but also to stop himself from cumming on the spot with how tight & warm you are, the way you're clenching around him is suffocating in the best way possible.

Jisung looks at the reaction on your face & he can't wait any longer as he then starts shaking his ass on his dick, trying to persuade his hyung to just give him what he wants & Chan can't hold himself back any longer & slides himself in quite quickly, knowing Jisung loves the painful but pleasurable stretch from the roughness & he lets out a choked noise that makes you gush.

"Y-you're so tight jagi, oh my- oh my god" Changbin squeaks, his eyes struggling to not roll to the back of his head & you look up at him with love hearts in your eyes, your brain malfunctioning as you reach to hold onto his biceps that you love so much, the choked gurgles of Jisungs whines & squeals filling the room.

Changbin forces himself to piece his mind together again just enough to start fucking into you at a good pace & you're just so full you swear you can feel him coming out of your throat almost. "S-so big Bi-binnie, doing so good" you cry out & by this point you've genuinely forgot that your boyfriends two closest friends are literally fucking beside you & you won't be surprised if you dismiss the huge puddle of spit on the bedsheets as your own later.

Chan reaches down to start jerking off Jisung at the same pace as his cock is thrusting into him & literally just after a couple of pumps of his cock, he is cumming all over Changbin's bedsheets with a wail as he spasms & shakes beneath Chan, but he doesn't let up.

Chan takes a second to look at you & Changbin & deems his work as done in terms of getting him comfortable to fuck you, & he can tell you both need no more help & he scoops up Jisung & carries him by the inside of his knees, his back touching his chest as he takes them both out of the room to make way to whatever next surface he can fuck Jisung against, leaving just you & Binnie together, not that you could be paid to care at this point.

"Y-you're so pre-beautiful, so good" he babbles above you as he flops forward enough to kiss you, tongues wrapping around one another as he hits that gummy spot his fingers were rubbing against earlier & your whines jump up an octowave.

"Shit bin, wa-gonna cum, pl-please" you cry as you break the kiss to try catch a breath or two but you hold your breath in shock & happiness at Changbin's response.

"Cum, p-please, I- i love you jagi, ss-so much, so good" he gibbers as he brings his hand down to your clit again, rubbing more messy circles on your clit & your toes start curling but you force yourself to hold back your orgasm for the time being, as tense as a rock beneath him as squelching noises fill the room, his cock almost completely slipping out every time he retracts himself, your hand reaching own each time he does so just to make sure you can quickly slide him back into his probably new favourite place if it happened.

"I- love you too bin, prett-prettiest boy" you whimper & at those words matched with you then pulling his head from your neck once he nested it there & kiss him again with your hands cupping his chubby cheeks & he lets out a small squeal as he is cumming before he can warn you & at the feeling of him filling you up & the way he pulsates in you, your own orgasm hits you too & he accidentally bites down on it & you moan that extra bit louder at the feeling.

You both come down from your orgasm, panting & huffing on top of one another, only the sounds of Jisung being fucked by Chan just down the hallway, but your mind is too all over the place.

"I me-meant what I said by the way, sorry it took my friend to help me fuck you." he murmurs, his voice sounding raspy but chirpy.

"I meant it too, I looooveee you! & don't stress it, it was hot anyways." you emphasis it further by pecking him all over his face, his cute dimples plastered on his cheeks as he gets shy.

"I can still hear Chan & Jisung fucking, if you want we can go join them, since you think it's hot" he half teases, but you can tell he isn't really joking. "you'll need to climb off me if you want to go, hurry before Jisung is fully spent!" you snap back & you can feel his cock that was just starting to go limp inside you chub back up before he's pulling out as he picks you up & pretty much sprints to what turns out to be the living room & Jisung on his knees sucking Chan off & you're quick to land on your knees beside Jisung, poking your head in to get a taste as Changbin sits beside chan a Jisung switches places with you.

->I really don't think I like this im afraid</3 but I could potentially do a part two but it won't be until after kinktober & after i finish my part two to my felix smut so please be patient mwah x

->Taglist & anon list is open! @jisungml

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𝓢𝓹𝓮𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓵 𝓡𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽 | 𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓢𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓶𝓲𝓷 |

word count - 5,282

genre - smut (MINORS DNI!!!)

warnings - feminine terms, you/your pronouns, bsf! seungmin, cam girl! reader, mutual pining(?), seungmin spoils reader, swearing, sex toys, mentions of jacking off, orgasm denial, hand kink(?), dom!seungmin, sub!reader, pet names (good girl, darling, baby), pussy slapping, slight pet play, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, making out, marking, grinding, oral (m rec), face/throat fucking, dirty talk, begging, forced orgasm, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight belly bulge, lmk if I missed anything

You weren’t entirely sure when you had told Seungmin about your job. 

But considering that you had kept it a secret for so long during your friendship, you couldn’t hold it back anymore when it was getting harder and harder to hide the lingerie from him, especially when he’d stay the night at your place.

You had a pretty tame set up, nothing too dramatic, however you had a completely different room for it, and Seungmin was starting to get suspicious when you’d cancel plans with him when a fan of yours wanted a private room with you. 

He sat you down, and made you talk.

-a few months ago-

“What’s going on? You keep canceling pre-made plans and make up some dramatic lie.” He watched your posture shift into a slouch as you sigh. You really couldn’t hide in anymore, could you? He had you cornered.

“Guess I really can’t hide it from you any longer, can I?” You huffed out, clearing your throat as you began to avoid eye contact, something you never really did with him.

“Well…?” He edged on, raising a brow at you.

“I’m a cam girl– more simply put I d–”

“I know what they are…” He almost immediately cut you off before you could start explaining. You watched him relax into the couch, looking at how nervous you seemed.

“Are you uncomfortable with that? At all? I mean you’re my best friend. I don't want you to think I’m like a slut or something..” You began to explain, and that made his brows furrow.

“Why would I think of you as a slut? It’s your life, Y/N. You get to choose what you do for a living, and if making money with your body is what you like doing, then so be it. I wouldn’t think of you any less.” He had such a sweet smile on his face, it made your heart melt from it.

-two weeks before-

Now he was buying you things. He bought your lingerie sets, sex toys you really wanted for some time now, and he’d even watch over and kick out any creeps that showed up, ones that were majorly disrespectful and didn’t respect your boundaries.

..But watching over your lives made him hornier than he thought he’d be. Instead of watching over the entire thing, he’d end up jacking off and trying to line up his release with yours as best as possible. 

Orgasm denial after orgasm denial is what he’d do with you all while kicking people. You would’ve never known though, seeing as he’d be doing this all at his own place. 

At one point he’d even made a second account just to send you money to send out a request. 

You’d follow those requests so well that sometimes he’d cum a little sooner than expected, and it made him cum hard.

He couldn’t take it anymore personally, but there wasn’t exactly anything he could do, after all he was just your best friend, there was no way in hell that you’d ever consider doing something with him on a live.

It was a personal struggle for him too, knowing that he wasn’t the one getting you off and instead it would be the toys he’d bought you a few days prior, he’d even resort to buying a fleshlight, imagining it was you on nights that you didn’t go live. 

At one point, he even started his own account, the main account he’d use to monitor your lives soon became what he would use to release his own stuff. He’d stay faceless for a while, doing audios, talking about wanting to do a collab with someone soon. He’d have plenty of views to be popular, and even told you right when he started.

At one point you even watched his lives and his videos, and it turned you on even more knowing that those moans he’d produce would be so delicious to hear in person.

You’d never ask him though, that made you feel embarrassed if he knew that you were watching his stuff. 

Some nights, you’d find yourself touching yourself to the sound of his voice, melting with every word he’d say.

-one week before-

You were doing a live show. Seungmin was monitoring on his second account, cock in hand as he watched you fuck yourself with a purple dildo, one that he had bought for you three weeks ago. 

It turned him on so much knowing that you were using toys that he had bought for you. He hand wrapped around his length as he pumped it in pace with your hip movements, and soon when his fist wouldn’t be enough, he’d break out the fleshlight, matching the pace. He watched as your hips grinded down on the dildo, a loud moan escaping when you’d reached your g-spot, and it made him groan and throw his head back, just before quickly snapping it back as he watched you make eye contact with the camera.

“I bet you’d love for this to be you, huh? Me riding your cock, makin’ you feel– hnghh– so good underneath me.. f-fuck..”

He couldn’t take it anymore, he needed you. He needed you so bad that he couldn’t help but finally make an undeniable request. He sent so much money you were sure that his second account was rich, considering you didn’t know it was him.

“Meongmeong00! Oh my god! Thank you so much for the 2,000 tokens! Oooo and it says right here you’ve made a request!” You didn’t get off the dildo, and instead you quickly opened the message, making sure you were still on screen the entire time.

You decided to not read the message out loud, not wanting to spoil it.

Meongmeong00: Your shows are always so good, but I’m looking for more. You should do a collab, have someone fuck you for a change. You should check out PuppyM, he’s a camboy but he only does audios.

“Mmmm I can’t promise you anything meongmeong, but I can most certainly try to get in contact.” While it was a bit worrying knowing that someone had suggested you do a collab with your best friend, you decided to ignore it and finish the live. 

You had some talking with Seungmin to do, and soon.

-the evening before-

“Min,, I have something to ask, and if you’re totally weirded out you can just say no.” You started off, the both of you sat on the couch, eating whatever snacks to your heart's content as you watched your show together.

Seungmin looked at you, raising an eyebrow as he hummed in response.

“So one of my biggest supporters, meongmeong00, made a request..”

He knew exactly where this was going, and on the inside he wanted to just admit his dirty tricks, but he didn’t want to spoil it, especially with the fact you looked so cute when you were nervous, “Go on..”

“They requested that PuppyM, or more so, you, should do a collab with me..” You pulled at the hem of your (his stolen) shirt, you getting all flushed from the idea of actually having sex with him.

“Did they? Wow.. who knew two worlds would collide.” He hummed out, his voice a bit raspy from being quiet almost the entire show. 

“Min I’m serious.” 

“Oh I know.”

“So what’s your answer..?”

“Sure why not. It’d rack in views for me and you, and I’d finally do a face reveal.”

You actually couldn’t believe your ears. He said yes?

“Really? Minnie you’re the best!” You squealed, hugging him, and in order to do that you had to straddle him. Within that action he grunted but hugged back nonetheless.

You hugged him for a while, thanking him over and over again. He’d only hum in response, head peeking from your shoulder as he watched the show behind you. He was thankful that you didn’t feel the semi he had.

-the day of-

You had planned everything, you had clarified boundaries, safeword, and even decided to use the light system. You just about agreed to anything that he suggested. 

Kissing, Marking, Overstimulation, Bondage, sensory play, praise, degrading, you name it. 

In true honesty you were more than excited. The entire time you had been out that day, you had a burning sensation in your abdomen. The desire was strong, and it made you so eager to go forward in time and make the clock strike 7 o’clock. 

You had gone all out for this. You had bought new lingerie, in his favorite color purple, just to tease him even more than you needed to. You did some light makeup, knowing it would just be ruined in the end anyway.

You made sure everything was perfect, that the camera was angled perfectly, and that the room was set to your liking. 

Seungmin went all out too, he decided to dress nice, which wasn’t exactly necessary but he still did it anyway. He wore a black button up, dress pants matching. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his fingers were even decorated with a few rings. He knew that he’d end up taking pictures of you, so what better way to do that then use his hands and have rings make his hands look pretty. He had his hair pushed back as well, something you absolutely loved on him. 

Neither of you were thinking of roleplay, but the way he dressed up definitely made it seem like it. He even brought a collar and leash, something new you’d never used before. 

When he showed up, your breath had stopped seeing him all dressed up.

“Well look at you, all dressed up for me?” You teased, watching him kick his shoes off at the door before walking towards you.

“I could say the same for you,, what’s underneath that nightgown of yours?” He hummed out, a finger lifting the silk fabric of the nightgown, that same finger grazing your skin, causing shivers to run up your spine.

“Hm, you’ll see..” You hummed out, walking to the room he’d never been in before.

He wasn’t expecting it to be so nicely done. The best part was the amount of options you had for him. The ties, blindfold, the toys he bought for you, even two different types of whips and a paddle. You were decked out for him.

“You said you’d want options so I broke out every toy you’ve bought along with a couple of other things you might find interesting. Did you bring anything?” You asked, pointing towards his bag.

“Oh right.. I uhm, I’m not sure you’re into it but I was thinking maybe a bit of control?” He then pulled out a collar and leash, and you clenched around nothing.

“Yeah that’s fine, like breath play?”

“I was thinking–” He paused, setting down the collar and leash and walking towards you, leaning to your ear, “Maybe some pet play?” 

Oh fuck.

“Y-Yeah we can uhm.. We can do that.” You huffed out, swallowing thickly as you watched him move back, hum, and then get ready for you to start your live.

You were sitting on the bed, watching all of your viewers come in, some you didn’t recognize in which they all, no surprise, asked where PuppyM was.

“Welcome! I’m glad all of you could make it today!” You greeted, gently waving to the screen as you shifted so your legs were crossed. You watched donations slowly pour in, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

Seungmin watching this in real life made him nervous.

“As you remember, a few weeks ago, meongmeong00 made a request, and I didn’t tell you what they requested, but as you can tell from the title.. I’ve decided on a collab!” You hummed out, leaning forward just a bit, your cleavage making itself known in the process. You could hear Seungmin shift a bit, waiting for you to signal him to come in. He had grabbed the collar and leash beforehand too.

“So, without further ado, please welcome the one and only PuppyM!” You had let a hand reach out towards Seungmin, in which he came out from hiding, humming lightly as he stayed standing, watching you move your head upwards as he walked closer. The camera was angled perfectly to wear his head cut off, but that would be pointless very very soon. 

“Thank you for inviting me to your show tonight, Y/N.” He responded, in which you hummed in response as you felt him move your hair to put the collar on you. A smile was on your face as he looked down at you.

“Of course, the more the merrier am I right?” You added, to which he nodded before sitting down and looking at the camera.

“And now they get to see my face, too.” He watched the chat go crazy with the sudden face reveal, a smirk on his face.

“I think they seem to enjoy your face, Min.” You resorted to a simple nickname that would be easy to use.

“You think so? I agree.” He replied, watching you turn your head to him. How it was so tempting to just kiss you right now.

“Well, might as well put on a show..” You hummed out, standing up and teasingly lifting your nightgown off. Oh how his heart stopped.

Purple was such a beautiful color, especially with you wearing it. He could feel his mouth water as he sat and watched you drop your nightgown on the floor. 

“Wow.. Purples a pretty color on you, darling..” He hummed out, watching you walk to the side of the bed. He moved so he could meet you by the edge of the same side. 

Your hands rested on his thighs for a moment, leaning close to him, prepared to kiss him but he stopped you.

“Uh-uh.. Sit first.” He commanded, and you could feel your knees go weak at those words. 

You quickly straddled his lap, his hands going to your hips as you looked at him from above, “Good girl.” He hummed out, and you could feel yourself get wetter.

You went back to leaning in to kiss him, his eyes fluttering shut slowly but surely. Your lips soon connected with his, your hands reaching to tangle into his hair. It was just light foreplay and you already had a small wet patch on the lace panties.

The way his lips moved on yours, the heat from his body and yours connecting and creating a great sexual tension. You could hear his shaky breaths clear as day as you kissed, sucked, and nibbled on his bottom lip. 

One hand retreated from his hair, slowly guiding down to his pants where they were greeted with a bulge in his pants. Almost instinctively you started palming, but a single word prevented you from continuing.

“Stop. Did I give you permission?” He huffed out, pulling away from the kissing as he stared at you with dark eyes. You melted under his gaze almost immediately.

“Did I need permission?” You asked, a smirk on your face, and one soon grew on him.

“Snarky, aren’t we?” He muttered out, slapping your ass, and hard. You were sure there would be a mark left as you yelped and moaned, head thrown back.

“M-Min–” You whimpered, hand retreating from his bulge.

“Hm? What’s the matter? Can’t handle it?” He teased, gently rubbing the spot he hit on your ass.

“No– I can handle it–”

“Color?”

“Green.”

He carried on with his next action, one hand retreating from your hips to greet your aching clit. A finger rubbing in a circular motion almost immediately, causing you to gasp and let out a soft moan. You almost instinctively grinded down on his hand, but knowing that the result of moving your hand to his bulge, you stopped yourself.

“Such pretty moans.. Matches a pretty face doesn’t it? Don’t you guys agree? She has such pretty moans.” He teased, his eyes never leaving you. The chat was going wild with donations and comments. 

You kept moaning when he would change the pace of his finger before stopping, it would cause you to whine but when he picked up again it was cut off and you’d go back to moaning. 

This went on for a few minutes, the continuous torture of him teasing your clit and making you want more. 

By the time he stopped, your core was aching for everything and more.

“Please Min– I need it–”

“Why don’t we be patient, darling. You’ll get what you want soon, let me have some fun and prep you yeah? You need to be able to fit all of me in you if you want the night of your life..” He teased, both hands retreating as he unhooked your lace and very mesh bra. 

Being face to face with your tits was so much better than the screen, “So beautiful.. You’re perfect..” He muttered, a hand going to one of your tits, lightly squeezing it. 

You don’t know what turned you on, the praise of all of the touching he was doing. 

“Touch me more please..” You said loud enough for everyone watching to hear, but not loud enough for the neighbors to hear you.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” And before you could even respond, his lips wrapped around your nipple, causing you to gasp and let out a shuddered moan, hands going back to his hair. 

He’d continue to play with your nipples. Sucking, swirling, nibbling, and tugging on them. He was sure that they’d be swollen and with the way you were reacting, he could get off on just that. He turned to the other one, giving the same treatment. 

He knew you wanted more, but he loved the way you were reacting even from simple foreplay. 

“I haven’t even gotten to the good bit and you’re squirming and begging for more..” He hummed out, pulling away from your nipple before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

Soon enough though, your clothed pussy met his clothed cock, and you began grinding down on him. With that action, it caused a strained moan to release from his lips as he pulled away.

“Fuck..” He muttered out, head leaning back as he relished in the feeling.

“Feel good enough for you?” You teased, thumb tugging at his bottom lip. You knew he was enjoying just from the way his body would react. 

“Feels so good, darling.” He groaned out, looking back at you. Your cheeks were flushed, lips plump from all the kissing.

His head dipped into your neck, pressing kisses as he pushed your hips down harder on his, moans releasing from the both of you. If he could just hold out a little longer. 

He began to mark your clear skin, leaving plenty of love bites and hickeys on your collarbone and neck, “Mine, your mine.. No one else's jus’ mine.” He muttered against your skin, fingers digging into your hips and his grip was so tight you were sure there would be marks by tomorrow.

“ ‘M all yours Min– Just yours baby..” The both of you stopped because you knew it was time for a change and Seungmin was super needy at this point.

You quickly got off of his lap, hands going to his belt and taking it off for him, now getting on your knees, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. His hands quickly worked on his shirt, tossing it to the side once it was off, and you pulling his pants down. 

You swallowed at the hard on you could see much more clearer. Fuck he was big.. He was girthy and he was lengthy, “Holy shit Min..” You muttered, licking your lips. You knew that it would be bigger the moment it was out. 

You stood up to move the camera closer to the two of you, so the viewers could get a better sight of you, him, and his clothed cock.

“Do you guys see this? He’s huge!” You let out a scoff afterwards, a smug smirk on his face. 

“Why don’t you get a taste then?” Seungmin replied, hand going down to caress your cheek. You hummed as your fingers went underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, now tugging them down and watching as his cock slapped against his abdomen. 

Your mouth watered, and you could feel some of it slipping from your lips.

“Careful, don’t drool all over me.” He joked, and you laughed as well, swallowing the spit and then letting some more form in your mouth. 

A long stripe is what you licked on the underside of his length, tongue flicking at his red tip. A sigh immersed from his lips as he watched you. He was more than certain you had practiced prior to this, and even looked at some tips because he definitely knew you never sucked off any of the dildos you had. 

He watched as you took him in your hands, getting him prepped to take him into your mouth. 

You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue as you tasted the salty pre-cum on your tastebuds. You let spit trickle down from your mouth and down his length before you began to take him into your mouth, feeling him hit the back of your throat before you started forcing yourself down even more. 

He let out a broken moan feeling the warmth of your mouth. He could feel himself twitch as your moved your hand, jerking what you couldn’t reach as you lifted, eyes watering as a string of saliva connected your tongue with his dick. 

“Fuck this is a sight..” He muttered, hand going to your hair and you knew exactly what he was about to do.

“You can take more, right?” He hummed out, and you nodded in response.

“Color?”

“So fucking green Min.” You whined out, just before feeling him guide your head back to his length, making you take what you could at first, just before he began to buck his hips upwards, forcing you to take more. While it made you gag at first, you soon got used to the feeling of him entering and leaving your throat.

A hand went down to touch yourself, rubbing your clit in a circular motion as you let him fuck your throat.

Desperate moans and groans passed his lips, “Fuck– Baby your throat feels so good– jus a good girl for me– shit-” 

You hummed around him, causing a loud moan to escape from him. You knew that he wouldn’t last like this, and he knew too, but he kept going.

“Taking it like such a good girl, yeah? Taking me down your throat, I bet you enjoy it…” He certainly was a dirty talker.

He quickly pulled you off of his length after he felt himself get close. He looked at your fucked out face, the way mascara started streaming down your cheeks the moment he began to fuck into your throat, and the way that your face looked so red, all the saliva dripping from your chin and onto your soft and marked up tits. 

“Fuck you’re such a dream..” He muttered, reaching for his phone and taking a picture of you, which you allowed. It would just be more material for later.

“MIn please–” 

“I know. Color?”

“Fuck Min don’t ask anymore. It’s green, and it’ll stay green.” You huffed out, wiping your chin as you crawled onto the bed. 

He quickly grabbed the camera to angle it so they could see him getting ready to go down on you. 

“We won’t need those useless toys.” He hummed out, practically ripping off the panties. It didn’t matter anyway, they wouldn’t be needed after tonight.

He began kissing down your body, spreading your legs open as he stared at all of your glory.

Your glistening pussy and the way that it was just ready for him made him so excited. 

He covered his fingers in his spit, rubbing them between your folds as he watched you squirm and moan from the feeling, “Please Min, put them in me– Make me squirt for you.” You whined.

That was new. 

He then inserted his middle finger into your hole, feeling your walls clench around the singular digit as you moaned from the stretch. He was reaching deep and he could tell just from the way you reacted. 

He fucked it into you, knowing it wouldn’t be enough but he wanted you to beg. 

“Min–”

“Beg for it. I want you to beg for me.” He teased, and it caused you to whine.

“Fuck Min– Please– I need it so bad, I want you so bad–” 

“Not good enough..”

You huffed, grinding against his palm, “Fuck your fingers into me please– Please Min– Your finger feels so good but I want more- anghh– Can I have more please?” You locked eyes with him as you said those words, and that made him give in.

As his ring finger entered you, he hummed out a “good girl” as you moaned from the stretch. Your eyes rolled as he began to curl his fingers.

Your hands went to cover your face, moaning into them as he thrusted his fingers in and out, curling them on occasion as his other hand came over to torture your clit, matching the pace of his fingers.

You were so close you could feel it, and it was unbelievable how close you were. Your best friends fingers were magic, and the way he continuously thrusted and curled his fingers, you were sure to ask him to fuck you again in the future.

“M-Min! Fuck– uugh– ‘M close Min! Min please– AH!” And that was it, your orgasm had hit so hard that your legs started shaking, but he didn’t stop there.

You felt like you were seeing stars, moaning out his name desperately as your whole body trembled, gripping the sheets like tomorrow as your eyes rolled back. 

When you came back down, you immediately got shot back up when you realized he hadn’t stopped.

“MIN! Shit– S-Sto– MMM! Ohmygod–” His fingers had been removed but he was rubbing your clit like there was no tomorrow.

“C’mon, give it to me, you can give me another baby..” He hummed out, watching you squirm underneath him as you tried stopping him, but he refused.

“Color?”

“SO FUCKING GREEN– OHMYGODMIN!” Your back arches, eyes begin to water as your hips lifted off the bed, squirting all over your thighs and on his abdomen. He grunted from the sight, licking his lips as he watched your body convulse and tremble.

He slapped your pussy once and it caused you to jolt.

“Good girl..” He hummed out, letting you take a minute to come back down your high.

You could still feel it even after the heavy orgasm, clenching around nothing as you looked up at him.

“Think you’re ready?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” 

That was the moment he lined himself up with you, his tip prodding at your entrance before he slowly began to push in, holding your hips. He was gentle with you during this time.

You whimpered, gripping onto his forearms. The stretch wasn’t unbearable but it was still a stretch. You clenched around him and it caused him to grunt. 

“Relax, you’re okay baby..” He muttered, pressing soft kisses to your lips.

Once he was all the way in, you could see the smallest bump in your abdomen, your hand going to it and pressing down, causing you to moan and retreat your hand, “Fuck..”

“Look at that.. I fit..” He joked, a small laugh emitting from him as he let you adjust. 

“So full.. You’re so big.. Fuck–” You squirmed, grinding your hips against him. That was his signal.

Seungmin began to thrust into you, watching the small bump disappear and then reappear with every thrust. 

You weren’t sure when you started feeling it heavily, but when you did, you couldn’t stop moaning. Every thrust released a moan from you and he found it the hottest thing imaginable. 

“F-Faster Min– FUCK– Fuck me faster please– hard–harder–” You moaned out, gripping his forearms tightly, nails digging crescent moons. 

He grunted in response, doing exactly as you said. He wasn’t sure what felt better, the way your velvet walls felt so good around him or the way you’d clench so hard that he would’ve sworn he would cum. 

“Such a good girl– my good girl– taking me so well,, so deep.” He moaned out, gripping your hips tighter as he slammed into you over and over again. 

You weren’t sure how long this would go on, but you knew it was racking in views and donations. 

You also weren’t sure if this would change anything between you and Seungmin.

That didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was the pleasure the two of you were feeling.

“Ohmygodmin– fuck I-I– ‘M SOCLOSE–” You struggled to make out words, practically babbling at this point as your trembled. 

He could feel you pushing him out, and he knew exactly what it was.

He pulled out and watched as you whined and squirted. Fuck it was so hot watching you.

He pushed right back in as soon as you finished, thrusting just as fast as before. 

Your whines and moans didn’t even stop, they just kept going as he fucked into you.

Your body convulsed again, walls clenching around him. Just a little longer,, just a little longer and you knew he would cum.

“Fu–Holy shit– Y/N–” He couldn’t even get words out at this point, it all felt too good for him. He knew how close he was, yet he kept pushing and pushing. He wanted you to squirt once more before he came.

That’s when his hand came to your clit and began rubbing just as he did before.

You cried out, tears welling in your eyes before spilling. You knew you could take it, but your words kept spilling.

“I can’t– FUCKING– ohmy– ohmygodmin– SHIT I’M–” ANd he felt you push, so he pulled out and watched you squirt once more. It didn’t take him long to push back in, his thrusts now sloppy and stuttered as he huffed and moaned heavily.

“Take it– Hold it in you– Fuck–” He said into your ear, and within one, two, three thrusts, his hips stilled and he painted your walls white.

Both of you were panting heavily, looking back at each other as he both relished in post-orgasm. 

“Fuck Min,, that was so good..” You muttered out, pressing a kiss to his lips. You looked at the camera, smiling at it gently as you felt him pull out.

“Glad you enjoyed it, Y/N.” He hummed out, laying next to you and looking at the camera.

“Thank you so much for the idea meongmeong00, I’ve definitely had the time of my life.. And thank you to all those who came to enjoy it! I hope that this was good enough for you and that you’d want something like this in the future, see you guys next week!” You said before turning off the camera, Seungmin going to end the live.

“Holy shit Min..” You laughed out, sitting up as you clenched around nothing, some of his cum dripping from your cunt.

“You have fun?”

“Hell yeah.. That’s the best fuck I’ve ever had in my life!” You stood up with shaky legs, going to him and pressing a kiss on his lips.

“Yeah? How about another round?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” 

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