#hyunjin smut
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Not so innocent
Dom Hyunjin and Kitty Sub Reader.
Request: Spanking, eye contact, pet play, dirty talk
"Does that feel good?"
Hyunjin is curious as his hand connects sharply with your bare ass once more, his fingers digging in slightly to your skin as it burns under his touch.
"Yeah... it's not what I imagined..."
There's a touch of something almost dream like in your words as you speak, and he can feel you pressing up unto his touch as his hands begin to wander, watching as you propped yourself up on your arms.
You looked sinful, laying face down on his bed, his thoughts drifting to something worse than the casual introduction to kinks that you'd originally asked of him.
"What did you imagine it would feel like?"
His fingers dip down, savouring your shy gasp and mewls as he traced along the smooth flesh of your pussy with a feather light touch, your juices collecting in his finger as you struggled to answer.
"Uh... I'm not sure, really? Maybe more painful..."
He can't help but coo at your naivety, feeling bolder as you seem to ignore his curious motions, his free hand coming up to pet your head.
"Look at me, baby."
You're obedient, almost eager for the sweet names he allows to spill from your lips. Quickly, you pull your head out of your hands to make eye contact with him, immediately flushing with a new wave of heat under his hard stare.
"Do you want me to show you something even better, pretty kitty?"
You nod, and he cautiously spreads your legs enough for him to slot between, all care abandoned as he finds your thighs, spreading you open for his viewing pleasure. He's testing what you're open to when he gently taps his hand over your cunt, a whine sounding clear as ever when you hear the embarrassing wet sound of his hand meeting your skin.
The quiet plea of 'more' is barely audibly, but he obliges none the less, hand connecting with your slick folds once again allowing him to savour the mess of noises currently pouring into the dimly lit room.
"I can make it even better if you want. You just have to do one little thing for me, ok?"
"Oh, please! I'll do anything!'
He cuffs out a gentle laugh at your desperation, allowing a single digit the slowly prod at your dripping hole as he spoke.
"Promise that I'm the only one who gets to touch you like this."
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Little Deaths | a ghostly ot8 story
MDNI 🔞 this is an adult story!!!
La petite mort. ‘the little death' is an expression that refers to a brief loss or weakening of consciousness, and in modern usage refers specifically to a post-orgasm sensation as likened to death.
fem!reader x ghost!Skz
Your driver abandons you at a creepy mansion that turns out to be haunted by 8 cursed, horny ghosts. Their mission is your pleasure.
Word count: 6.8k
Content Warning below
CW: ot8 are ghosts, drugging/intoxication of reader, seduction?coercion?, sexual acts with ghosts, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m & f), vaginal and anal penetration, blow jobs, double pen in 2 holes, double pen one hole, restraints, rough sex, spitting, it's basically a gangbang, sub reader, there is a part where a cock alternates between readers vagina and anus - this is not recommended irl, choking, name calling, pet names. The sexual acts in this story are not meant to reflect how things work irl.
a/n: this story isn't a love story, like I often write here on this blog. It's basically self indulgent ot8 porn. It's my first oneshot that features all 8 members fully, and it was actually so hard to write. I considered posting this story on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark where I write my unhinged shit, but it took so much energy and thought, that I wanted to keep it over here with my other oneshots of similar length.
I hope you enjoy this oneshot. If you do, please let me know your favourite part, and consider a reblog. x. Sorsha.
“Ma’m, I think we need to stop the car, this weather is just making it too hard to see.” your driver called over his shoulder. The rain outside was falling harder than ever, and with it being the dead of night, and on a windy deserted road, you knew he was right. It wasn’t safe.
“But where on earth do we stop?” You replied, trying to see out of the window.
“I think I’ve taken a wrong turn.” He said in a shaky voice. “But… I think I’ve found somewhere we can pull over.”
You leaned around to look between the two front seats of the car, and could just make out the shape of a mansion ahead of you. Your driver pulled the car to a stop in front of the dwelling. “Should we go knock on the door?” You wondered, but your driver was getting out of the car and pulled out your suitcase.
“I think so. I could barely see the road.” He insisted.
You let out a big sigh and climbed out of the car. From what you could tell, the mansion was enormous, and very old.
Stepping up to the front door you saw there was no doorbell. Just a big brass knocker. “You know,” you turn to your driver who plonked down your suitcase beside your feet. “This feels a lot like that Backstreet Boys music video. The one with a haunted mansion.” You gripped the knocker in your hand and knocked three times and waited. “You know, Backstreets Bac-“ You turned to your driver but he was running back to the car, jumping back in and driving away. The fucker!
“Hey!” You yelled after him, but he was gone.
The big front door creaked open, capturing your attention. A young man with fluffy long blonde hair peeked his head around the door.
“Oh my goodness!” You wailed. “I…it was raining…and…well…my driver…he’s just left me here.”
The young man looked at you curiously. “Come in out of the cold.” He smiled warmly. He immediately put you at ease.
“My name’s Felix.” He said picking up your suitcase.
“Y/n.” You replied following him into the mansion. It was quite dark, but you could make out that you were in a large entry hall, with a grand staircase in the centre.
“You will need to stay the night.” he stated. “I’ll take you to your room.”
“Stay the night?” You turned to him. “But I just need to make a phone call, have someone come collect me.”
Felix shook his head. We haven’t any mobile reception, and the landline is down. Due to the storm.”
You frowned.
“Plus,” he began as he started up the stairs. “No one should be driving in this weather.”
You closed your eyes and sighed. He was right. You followed Felix up the winding staircase and along a dimly lit hall. The place was creepy. It felt deserted and cold. Such a contrast from the man leading you to your room. Felix seemed so warm, like sunshine. Why would someone like him live here?
“Here we are.” He opened a door at the end of the hall. “You will be staying here. I’ll bring you up some supper and a cup of hot…chocolate. Yes, hot chocolate.” he rambled. “Please-” he gestured for you to enter the room and placed your suitcase on the floor beside you.
“Feli-?” you turned to the blond man, but he was gone. Weird. “Felix?” you called and popped your head back out into the hallway. But he had completely disappeared. Vanished into thin air.
Despite the cold emptiness of the mansion, your room was stunning. Even if it did look like it came out of a haunted house movie. It had Victorian gothic themed decor, with a huge bed that had four thick posts, and the bedhead itself was a feature piece. It came almost up to the high ceiling. Dim lamps around the walls illuminated the room. The entire space was grand and of another time.
“I suppose I could spend the night here.” you patted the bed. The bedding seemed freshly cleaned, and you noticed there was no dust on anything. It was like whoever lived here was expecting a guest. Was Felix the only one here? You wondered as you opened your suitcase and pulled out your silk nightie.
Your sleepwear seemed far too vulnerable and sexy for such a room and as you climbed into the giant bed, you had thoughts of some beast coming and ruining you in your sleep. Maybe you’d need to stay awake just to be safe?
Knock knock.
You pulled your knees to your chest, and your heart began to pound. Someone’s come to rape you and murder you. Your mind had really spiraled over the past ten minutes.
“Y/n? It’s Felix. I’ve brought you some food and a a-drink.”
You scampered over to the door. “Fel-” you started. But again no one was there. How was he so quick?
On the floor at your feet was a tray with a slice of cake and a big mug of hot chocolate. You took the tray back to your bed. You were hungrier than you thought, practically inhaling the cake within a minute.
You turned your attention to the hot drink, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It was delicious. Rich, creamy, with a hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. You took another sip, allowing the warmth to wash over you. By the time you had drunk the last of it, you were feeling floaty and fuzzy, almost like you were drunk.
All thoughts about your safety left you as you snuggled down and fell asleep.
Your core ached as you felt your body buzz and swirl. Sensations of cool hands all over your body, caressing your legs, and your breasts, making you moan. More. You needed more. Whatever this was, you had to have more or you’d die. Your body felt hot, like it was on fire, and you needed the relief of the coolness that was caressing you.
The sensation moved up your inner thigh, while elsewhere on your body it wrapped around your neck. More across your stomach and breasts. It reached the top of your inner thigh and, ‘oh god yes, touch me there’, slipped inside of you. You felt like you were writhing on the bed, back arching off the mattress. But then it seemed you couldn’t move at all. It was like you were being held down. You tried to cry out, the pleasure becoming unbearable, but your mouth was filled with the same coldness that was inside your pussy. Again, your body cried ‘More’. You needed more. The cool sensation then filled you deeper and deeper and stretched you open, fuller, wider than ever before. Your throat felt full too, and you were certain you were going to choke. Your dreamy vision blurred further until you were seeing white, and the tension in your body reached breaking point. A surge of cold energy filled you and your core burst with a relief like you’d never experienced in your entire life. Your walls squeezed and pulsed around the coldness inside of you.
Your eyes flung open. Your chest was heaving. Your body was hot. Your cunt still fluttering. Fuck. That was some dream. You ran your hands over your body, down between your legs. Your panties! They were gone. You sat up abruptly, your eyes darting around to locate your missing underwear. There they were, at the far corner of the bed. Torn. What the actual fuck?
“You did that to yourself, you know.” a voice said from the corner of the room.
“Huh?” your eyes shot to a man sitting in the shadows in the corner.
“We didn’t touch you.” he added.
You were confused. “We?” you arched an eyebrow, trying to calm your racing heart.
The man disappeared, startling you, then reappeared sitting on the edge of the mattress.
You pulled your knees into your chest. “How the fuck did you do that? Who are you? What are you? How’d you just do that?” you cried shrilly.
The man smiled, his dimpled cheeks and kind eyes making him appear non-threatening. But that didn’t mean he wasn't a psycho killer. A magic psycho killer.
“Here, have another hot chocolate.” he passed you a mug.
The hot chocolate. You scowled at the man. “You drugged me!” you hissed.
The man shrugged. “It’s an ancient remedy. We needed to know if you were compatible with us.”
“Compatible? Compatible for what? What do you mean, ‘us’? You and Felix? What does this drink do?”
“Shh..babygirl. It’s okay.” he hushed you. “The drink merely relaxes you and unlocks what you crave most. I promise it wears off within twelve hours. The drink you had earlier was only one eighth the strength of this one here.” he pointed to the drink in your hands.
You brought the drink to your nose and inhaled. It smelled irresistible, and you resisted the strong compulsion to drink it down. “But why do you want me to drink more? Couldn’t you tell if I was compatible or not from…”
“You are compatible. It was clear the moment you called for us.” He said simply.
Your eyes widened. “Called for you? But I don’t even know you.” you whispered.
“The coldness you felt.” he leaned closer. “On your body. Inside your body. That was us. You could feel us even though we hadn’t touched you.”
You held your breath.
“We could feel you too. We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness. It wrapped around us.” he whispered.
You whimpered. He, they, could feel you? You bit your lip. “So why drink more?” you arched an eyebrow. “If you know I’m compatible with…whatever this is.”
“Because what I’m about to tell you might be,” he sucked in a breath. “Overwhelming.”
You locked eyes with this stranger and carefully took a big gulp of the hot chocolate. You immediately felt a sense of warmth flow through your body and pooling in your core.
“You see, y/n, we’re ghosts.”
You just stared at him. “What?” you laughed. “Just ‘cos you did some magic disappear-reappear thing before, I don’t believe in-”
The man in front of you turned translucent. Fuck. Your mouth fell open. You could still see him, but his colours were muted, and he wasn’t….solid.
“You’re a fucking ghost?” you choked. This wasn’t happening. Surely the drink has some kind of hallucinogen?
“Y/n, allow me to introduce you to my brothers.” he gestured for you to look around the room. Gradually, seven young, translucent, men emerged from the shadows.
“Holy shit!” you whispered and swallowed hard.
“My name is Chan.” the dimpled mad said. “And here we have Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung.” he pointed to three of the men who waved at you. ‘And over there we have Suengmin, Jeongin, Minho, and you’ve already met Felix.”
“Sorry I drugged you.” Felix blushed and lowered his gaze.
“May we come sit on the bed?” the one named Hyunjin asked. “We won’t touch you unless you ask.” he added.
Why did that something to your insides?
You nodded and the ghost men gathered around and hopped on the bed. That’s when you noticed they were all quite young and very handsome. And they were all wearing the same thing. A gold and black silk bathrobe.
The words of Chan resounded in your head. “You called to us”, “We could feel your desire. Your warmth. You aliveness. Your tightness.”
You pulled the blanket up higher and stared at your drink, considering whether or not to drink more if it was going to help you relax.
“W-what did you do when I called to you?” you asked in a small voice.
“We came straight away.” Another man said. Seungmin, you think.
“We watched you, kitten.” Minho smirked.
“You were so receptive.” Changbin added.
“Your body begged us to fill you, squeeze you. Fuck you.” Hyunjin said silkily.
“But you didn’t… touch me, right?”
“No, babygirl. Like I said, your body showed us what you craved most. We didn’t touch you. I promise. But we could feel you.”
“But why do I crave you?” you were confused as to how this could even be happening.
“We think it’s part of the curse.” The chubby cheeked boy, Jisung, said. “Every so often a woman will stumble upon our mansion. We give them a drink,” he nodded to the cup in your hand, “to see if they’re compatible. Sometimes they just sleep soundly.”
“Those ones aren’t compatible.” Seungmin chimes in.
“And some, like you, are receptive.” Jisung continued.
“Compatible.” Added Minho.
You looked around the room. So you craved these… ghosts? Sexually? Was this a trick? You thought about your dream and how incredible it felt to be consumed by whatever it was that was touching you. Would it feel like that?
“What happens when you find a compatible woman?” You were almost afraid to ask.
“We have to pleasure her.” Chan said flatly.
Your eyes flicked to his.
“And what happens if you don’t?”
“We get tortured.”
Your eyes widen. “Tortured? Why? By who?”
“I think we need to tell her the whole story.” Said Jeongin.
Chan rubbed his chin. “Hmm, you’re right.” He took a moment before he spoke.
“Y/n. When we were alive we were… a harem. Or reverse harem, I suppose. We had our Mistress whom we served… sexually. She wasn’t right, in the head. She went mad. She didn’t want us to age, to get older. So she hired a witch who was meant to concoct a spell that would keep us young for eternity. The spell was not only to keep us youthful either, but also bind us,” he looked around at the other men. “To be sex slaves forever.”
“But it went wrong.” Exclaimed Jisung. “It killed us. Now we’re young, dead, sex slaves forever.” He looked down at the bedspread.
The mood in the room suddenly dropped and you could tell all the men were in a moment of reflection.
“So,” you started slowly. “When a woman comes along who subconsciously requires your… services… then you are bound to fulfill her needs?”
They all nodded.
“Our bodies naturally respond. It’s intoxicating.” Hyunjin said softly. “All of us are aching for you.” His hand reached out and touched your arm. Cold. Cold just like the sensation in your dream.
“What if I say no? What happens?”
“We won’t touch you.” Chan states.
“But we’d be in pain until the next compatible woman comes along.” Said Felix.
“The urge and desire won’t dissipate until we have found another compatible woman.” added Seungmin.
You considered everything they just told you. It was wild. It was far-fetched, and absolutely unbelievable. But here you were. On a bed with a room full of ghosts. Ghosts that were horny for you. You should say no. But you couldn’t. It seemed you were horny for them too.
They were alluring. Tempting. Could they make you feel the way you did in your dream? They weren’t even touching you then, supposedly, and you wondered what it’d feel like to have them really do those things to you, and more.
You took the cup to your mouth. “What happens if I drink this stronger version?” You looked at Felix.
“It will relax you. But more importantly it shows us what your body truly needs to be sated, and who want to do it to you.” Said Changbin.
“There’s no hiding if you drink that. You won’t be able to hold back.” Minho smirked.
“And everything will feel more intense.” Added Jeongin.
“Babygirl.” Chan gripped your arm. “You need to give us your permission. Will you let us pleasure you… fuck you until you can’t take any more?”
You bit your lip. “Yes.” you whispered, and gulped the entire drink down.
“That’s it, baby.” Clapped Jisung.
“I knew from how hard she came earlier that she’d be up for this.” Seungmin added.
“She’s just drank the whole thing. Chan, that was full strength.” Felix was horrified.
“Means she’ll be pliable, we can do anything.” Seungmin said slyly.
“Well, anything she wants.” Corrected Changbin..
“She’ll want us to do absolutely everything. I can tell. This one’s a fucking freak.” Said Minho.
You immediately became lightheaded. And hot. So fucking hot. You threw the blanket off and started clawing at your skimpy nightie. “Hot!” you cried. “So hot.”
Ice cold hands came to your body, ripping the garment from you, leaving you naked, on fire, your skin burning. “Please!” you cried, searching for the cool relief of those hands.
A hand wrapped around your leg, dragging you into the middle of the mattress. More hands started to explore your body. Firm, freezing, so relieving against your scorching skin.
You opened your eyes to find that all eight ghosts were surrounding you on the bed. But they weren’t translucent anymore. They appeared as real as living men. “Touch me.” you sobbed as your eyes darted around to each of them.
“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Whispered Jisung.
You didn’t know whose hands were who’s, but there were so many on your body. So cooling to the skin. A hand cupped a breast, while another pinched your other nipple. Your legs were spread wide and a frozen cold tongue pressed against your pussy.
“Fuck!” you cried out and looked down to find Jisung sucking on your clit. “Fuck! Feels so good.” you panted.
“How does she taste, brother?” someone asked.
“Like pussy.” he groaned. “I fucking missed this taste.”
While your eyes had rolled back into your head from the intensity of what was happening, you felt your arms being pulled above your head, and soft velvet ropes were tied around your wrists. You looked up behind you to see Minho tying the other ends of the ropes to the headposts. “Kitten likes to be tied up.” he winked at you.
Meanwhile, Jisung had peeled himself away from between your legs and Hyunjin was kneeling between them, gazing at your pussy. Just the way he was looking at you and licking his lips made your cunt gush. He noticed and swiped his finger over your dripping arousal, then took his finger to his lips. He proceeded to wink at you, slip off his robe. With the most deranged look you’d ever seen on a man, he lifted your hips to line your entrance up with his cock, and slammed you onto him. His cock felt like a hard block of ice. Thick, hard, rigid. But so relieving inside your searing heat.
He was so strong, he wasn’t even thrusting. He was simply making you fuck him. The binds on your arms were pulled taut every time you were fully impaled on him.
“So pliable.” Jeongin said as he leaned down to suck one of your nipples.
“Like a fucking ragdoll.’ Seungmin mused. “Look how her eyes roll back every time he fucks into her.”
It was so hard to focus on where everyone was and what they were doing. All you knew is that you needed them to touch you. You needed Hyunjin to keep doing whatever he was doing. He felt so long, so deep, and after a while the sharp coldness eased off and his cock started to feel more warm. More alive. You weren’t sure whether your body was warming him up, or if he was cooling you down.
Your core tightened, your orgasm was approaching fast. As if on cue, a finger landed on your clit, and rubbed hard, rough circles on it.
“Please…please…I’m gonna…I…I…so close..” you cried and babbled.
Hyunjin thrust you onto you harder, digging his fingers into your flesh, and the fingers on your clit became more forceful.
“It’s okay, Hyunin’s gonna make you cum.” Chan cooed.
A sudden powerful surge of cold energy exploded inside your cunt, causing your walls to automatically contract around it. “Holy fucking shit!” you panted. “I’m…fuck!!!” your walls clenched tighter than they ever had before, and you were coming so hard you thought your body had split apart. It felt as though your entire pelvic region was pulsing around Hyunjin’s cock. It lasted so long, maybe an entire minute, and by the time you came down, you were sobbing. Hyunjin leaned over and took you in a deep kiss before slipping out.
“No! No!” you cried out. You were too empty now. Your body relaxed into the bed when a few sets of lips soothed you through kisses to your body. “More.” you whispered softly.
“Shh. You’re gonna be plenty filled tonight, baby.” Jisung whispered in your ear, before he hooked his hands under your arms and dragged you so your head hung off the edge of the mattress. He opened his robe to reveal his delicious cock, and you immediately opened your mouth for him. He smirked as he pushed his cock into your warm, wet mouth. He too was was ice cold, but you noticed he began to warm up quickly.
“Baby likes to choke on big cocks, huh?” he snarled. “I never expected such a perfect little lady to turn up on our doorstep tonight.” he pushed himself all the way into the back of your throat. You couldn’t breathe. But you didn’t care. Right now being filled with cock was more important to your survival than air.
“Fuck. You can see it pressing into her throat.” Jeongin hissed. He was setting himself up to fuck you now.
“If you put your hand on her neck, you can feel it.” Jisung said excitedly.
Jeongin reached up and pressed his hand to your neck, squeezing your throat and making Jisung feel so much bigger. He pulled out to let you catch your breath, and then he was stretching your throat out again.
Jeongin twisted your lower half so you were on your side from your waist down. He straddled your bottom leg, pinning it into position, whilst lifting your upper leg to rest on his shoulder. He pressed his hips, pushing his cock into you, and immediately started fucking you fast. He was hitting you so deep that you were certain he was pushing your cervix deeper and deeper into your body, and the way Jisung seemed to be pushing deeper and deeper into your throat, you thought they would eventually meet up in the middle.
Your hands were guided to wrap around two rock hard, ice cold cocks. You had no clue who they belonged to. You didn’t care. All these ghost men were fuckable. You wanted to touch and feel every single one of them.
“Grrr…I’m fucking coming.” cried Jeongin.
“Let’s cum in her at the same time.” Said Jisung.
Then you felt it. The same as with Hyunjin. The cold surge of energy, filling you up from both ends. Your back arched off the bed as you came again. Your hands squeezed around the cocks you were holding. Cries and hisses rang out around the room at the sight before them.
“Good girl. So fucking good.” Purred Jisung as he eased his cock from your mouth.
“Noooo!” You cried. He leaned down and kissed you. Baby, I’m gonna fuck you so good later. I already know what you’re gonna want me to do.” He winked.
Jeongin was gone too. The dicks in your hands also gone, and you whimpered at so much loss. You didn’t have time to cry for too long when you were suddenly dragged by your feet further onto the bed and flung into your stomach. “You’re such a filthy little slut, pup.” Seungmin laid against you, whispering nasty words in your ear. He’d grasped your arms, holding them both behind your back with one hand. Your hair was plastered on your cheek, and he spat on it before pushing your face against the mattress below.
“Please-” you choked.
“Oh, my slutty little pup. I know exactly what you want. But I wanna hear you say it for the whole class to hear.”
How does he know? You wondered to yourself in your delirious state. Seungmin pressed the length of his hardness against your ass.
“Please…fill my ass.” You sobbed. A collective hum spread around the room at your admission.
“That’s right.” Seungmin pressed his tip against your rim. You still weren’t used to how cold their cocks were to begin with. “Such a slut wanting me to put it in without loosening you up first.” He spat on the side of your face again, his saliva sticking in your hair. You needed him to hurry. You needed him to fill you. You were so fucking empty.
Seungmin’s cock breached your rim as he pressed his body further on top of you. The stretch felt overwhelmingly satisfying, while the coolness of his cock soothed the sting. The feeling of being trapped beneath him, arms held tight behind you, the feeling of helplessness intensified your need for him to penetrate you.
Finally, his hips met the curve of your ass cheeks. “Such a tight little hole. He grunted as he started to grind against you. “Not sure how tight it’ll be by morning.” He whispered low in your ear. He started with a slow, steady pace, allowing your body to warm his cock. “Harder…harder.” You mumbled into the mattress.
Seungmin growled and fucked into you, pressing your face further into the mattress. It felt like he was fucking you forever, yet not long enough. You were mumbling and dribbling all over the bed. Then, the familiar feeling of what seemed to be their orgasms, filled you once again, making you come hard. Your cunt clenched around nothing, and you were already desperate to have someone fill it again.
It was as though Minho read your mind, and as soon as Seungmin dislodged himself from your ass, he was dragging you to the otherside of the bed. He stood on the floor and pressed your legs up into a mating press position and drank you in with hungry eyes. “I love watching my cock sink into a pussy.” He said. “Watch with me.”
You looked down just in time to see his cock push inside of you. “Kittie’s hungry.” He smirked as you sucked in his entire cock, and glanced up at you. “Does it feel good?” He asked.
You nodded fervently. “Yes! So good.” You squeaked. He cocked an eyebrow. “What about your ass?” He pulled out of your cunt and pushed fully into into your ass.
“Fuck! So deep. So fucking deep.” You cried. This position allowed Minho to reach the deepest part of you. He fit your cunt so well, but, oh fuck, he felt incredible in your ass too. You wanted him to fuck both hol-
“You really are filthy.” Minho said disbelief. He pulled out of your ass and plunged back into your pussy.
You knew, you really knew, that this wasn’t a good idea, but you wanted him to do it so fucking bad. And he knew! He knew what you wanted. They all seemed to know. You didn’t have to say a word and they knew all the filthy things you craved.
You glanced around you to see some of the others had gathered around to watch Minho fuck your pussy, then your ass, then back to your pussy, while he held you still on the bed.
“Look how her holes stay open waiting for him to put it back in again.” Felix said mesmerised.
Despite your delirium, you had an idea. You wanted someone to finger fuck you when Minho was in your ass. He pulled out of your cunt once more and as he pushed back into your now gaping asshole, Changbin slipped two fingers into your pussy.
“That’s it, Bunny. Binnie’s fingers stretch you good don’t they?” He purred.
Your hands flailed around looking for cocks to jerk off, relieved to find Felix and Jeongin in your hands. “My mouth! Need someone in my mouth.” You whimpered.
“Fuck, she’s perfect.” Cooed Jisung again. “Chan, you should fill her mouth. She’s begging you.”
“Yeah Channie, you haven’t felt her. She’s fucking incredible.” Seungmin encouraged.
Yes. You wanted Chan in your mouth. “Please.” You were crying because you wanted it so bad. Chan straddled your chest and pressed the tip of his cock against your lip. “Open wide, babygirl. Daddy needs to make you choke.”
Your eyes rolled back into your head as he pushed his cock into your mouth. “That’s it. Suck on it.” He pushed deeper.
Minho picked up his pace, slamming into your ass at an alarming pace, and Changbin was digging into your g-spot aggressively. You were feeling so used, but at the same time so special.
“Changbin’s got four fingers in you, baby. You should see your pretty little holes.” Jisung panted as he fucked into his own hand.
Chan gripped your hair and started to fuck your throat at the same rhythm as Minho was fucking your ass. You didn’t know why taking their cocks down your throat was so incredibly arousing, but it was. You couldn’t get enough. It was almost like you didn’t need to breathe when they were in your mouth, and you wondered if it was some weird ghost magic.
You were pinned down and held still as they forced another orgasm out of you. How much more could your body take? You hadn’t even fucked all of them yet. You started to feel drowsy and your eyes fluttered closed. Chan withdrew his cock from your mouth, and some saliva dribbled down your chin.
“Babygirl.” He stroked your cheek. “Are you okay? You need to wake up for us. You still need more to be sated.”
Minho and Changbin pulled out of you too and came up to check on you.
“We can’t keep doing this if you’re asleep, pretty lady.” Felix stroked your hair and gazed down at you.
You opened your eyes and grinned with a fucked out expression. “Why am I empty?” You whispered.
“Atta girl.” Chan slapped your face, pulling you out of your sleepy moment, and just like that you were ready for more.
“Come ride me, bunny.” Changbin coaxed you over by gripping his cock and pumping it a few times. You licked your lips and crawled towards him, and a few hard slaps landed on your ass as you did so.
Changbin had a thick cock. Maybe the thickest you’d ever seen. You threw a leg over him and reached down to line his cock up with your entrance. You both sighed in relief as you slid effortlessly onto his thickness and immediately began to roll your hips. “Fuck, yeah, bunny. Still so tight, even after we’ve fucked you open.”
You grinned down at him as you found a rhythm with him rolling his hips up into you in the most delicious way. “Kiss me.” he sighed, and pulled you down on top of him and captured you in a deep kiss. You melted against him, as he cupped your ass and pulled your cheeks apart. You panted into Chanbgin’s mouth. “You want Felix at the same time?” he whispered. You nodded.
Like clockwork, you felt the mattress dip behind you. “It’s okay, love. Lixi’s gonna help keep you feeling full.” he positioned himself behind you and lined himself up with your ass.
Although your ass had been stretched by two cocks already, Felix was met with some resistance due to Changbin already filling you up so good. But Felix persevered, pressing and pushing until he was fully seated inside of you.
A few of the other men gasped at the sight of seeing you filled like this.
“Felix,” said Changbin. “You know what she wants us to do. Are you ready to give it to her?” Felix grabbed hold of your hips, pressing his fingers into you hard, and began to fuck you with hard, sharp thrusts. He snapped his hips quickly, forcing you to cry out in choked sobs. At the same time, Changbin gently rolled his hips up into you. The difference in technique and pace was driving you insane. The feeling of both your holes stretched like this was overwhelming. They were going to break you into pieces. You were sure of it. You were crying and sobbing, eventually collapsing onto Changbin and letting them fuck you dumb. Drool was dribbling out of your mouth onto Changbin’s shoulder, and you felt like you were losing your sense of consciousness.
“P-please…please…ruin me…fuck me…feels s’good…so deep… full.” You babbled.
“She’s so dumb from cock. Look at her. Eyes unfocused. Drooling.” Minho observed.
“Her cunt is gushing around Binnie too. You all know what she wants next, don’t you?” Jisung winked at Chan.
“C’mon fellas. Fuck her harder. She’ll fall asleep if you’re too gentle.” Minho snickered.
Both Changbin and Felix doubled down, both finding a matching rhythm, and slamming into your holes. Even though you knew what to expect from theirs orgasms, it still hit you hard, taking you over the edge with them. The three of you were a trembling mess by the time they pulled out of you.
“Pup, show us your pretty used holes.” Seungmin requested. You happily obliged by leaning your head into the bed, ass in the air, and spreading your cheeks with your shaky hands.
Whines, whimpers, sighs, and mumbled “fucks” filled the room as they all gazed hungrily at your sloppy, used holes. “Fuck, I wish I could ejaculate. I’d cum all over that ass.” sighed Hyunjin.
“I’d fucking cum in there and watch it ooze out.” added Minho.
“Babygirl.” Chan had laid himself on his back, leaning against the pillows. “My turn to feel your pussy. I’m out of patience.”
You sauntered over to him, and kissed him. “Turn around, babygirl. Show ‘em how you ride reverse.” You straddled him, reverse cowgirl, and swallowed up his cock whole. Chan’s cock was ice cold like the rest of the men, but he was much, much bigger. He stretched you out like you were made for him. “That’s it. There you go. There you go.” he cooed once you planted your feet into the mattress and used your legs as leverage to bounce yourself up and down his length.
All eyes were on your hole swallowing Chan’s cock, and then sliding up to reveal just how wet and slippery you were. Hyunjin was lying on his stomach watching everything curiously. A few of the others were pumping their still hard cocks. You even noticed a couple of the men were translucent again.
You eyes landed on the one man you hadn’t fucked yet. Jisung. He looked at your pussy desperately, like he was in pain. He needed you. He looked up, locking eyes with you, and in an instant, he crawled over to you. “Hey baby. You ready for me?” he grinned.
“I am.” you whimpered.
“Okay, lean back on me…that’s it.” instructed Chan. “Let’s push your legs up. Good girl. That’s it. Make room for Jisung.”
Jisung kneeled in front of you and rubbed his cock against your clit. “Please.” you plead. You watched as Jisung pushed against your entrance, beside Chan, and when the tip slipped in you cried out. “Fuck.” you squeaked. “It’s so…fuck…the stretch…it’s” your hands gripped onto Jisung’s arms to hold yourself in place as Jisung pushed further into your cunt.
Jisung’s cock was cold, where Chan’s had warmed up and the difference in temperature allowed you to feel the two distinct penises that were inside you.
“I’m gonna push all the way in now, baby.” Jisung pushed his hips hard, and with your pussy so wet, it gave way just enough for the rest to slip in.
“Fuck, it’s so tight.” Jisung’s eyes squeezed closed.
“Full…S’full.” You groaned.
“Stuffed full of cock.” Seungmin admired.
The other men had gathered around and watched in awe as they watched your pussy being fucked by two cocks at once. Chan continued to hold your legs up out of the way while he fucked you from below. Han leaned over you as he snapped his hips as vigorously as your cunt would allow.
‘’Open.” demanded jisung. You opened your mouth for him and he spat into it before crashing his mouth onto yours. Apparently ghosts don’t ejaculate, but oddly enough they have saliva.
“This what you wanted, babygirl?” Chan nibbled your neck. You answered with a whimper.
“You love being stretched like this. Filled so deep with cock?” Jisung said, panting. “You don’t have to say anything. We already know. We know how after this you want us to all take turns double penetrating you.”
You moaned in agreement.
“One in the pussy…one in the ass. Or two in your tight cunt like right now.” Jisung pressed his mouth against your ear. “Maybe even two in the ass?” he whispered. “Maybe we should get everyone to pair up ready?”
You yelped, and clenched tighter around the two men.
“She likes that idea.” Chan chuckled.
“Well it’s her idea, remember? We’re the sex slaves.” Jisung grunted as he pushed in as deep as possible.
“Good thing our erections last so long. Our pretty Babygirl is so needy. Lucky we're here to take care of her.”
Your body felt floppy, like they could bend you and stretch you however they wanted, and your body would accommodate. All of your attention was focused on the sensation in your core. You felt so full. Their cocks reaching deep inside you. What state would it be in when they’re finished? You didn’t care because after this you wanted them to do it all again.
Jisung changed his angle to concentrate on your g-spot, causing your body to start shaking. It was simultaneously too much and not enough. You were a helpless, sobbing mess, needing to come, but not wanting to yet.
Minho and Felix moved closer, one on either side of you, and took hold of your trembling legs, freeing up Chan’s hands.
Subconsciously, your hands found their cocks and you started to jerk them off.
“You gonna come with us, babygirl? I can feel you’re so close.” Chan encouraged as he wrapped a hand around your neck to choke you.
Jisung sat back on his knees and began to rub your clit as he and Chan continued to abuse your pussy with hard, relentless thrusts.
You threw your head back, wanting to cry out, but with Chan’s hand squeezing you, it turned into a gurgling sound. Hands groped at your tits, most likely Minho and Felix while they held your legs. You felt the tip of a cock on your cheek, and Chan turned your head so you could open up for Changbin.
You couldn’t hold on any longer.
“That’s it, babygirl… let go.” Chan whispered.
“Come for us.” Hyunjin said. Words of encouragement resonated around the room.
The tension inside you snapped, setting off your orgasm. Your cunt clamped down, causing Chan and Jisung to come too, moaning and cursing under their breaths. The force of both of their cold energies extended your orgasm, thrusting you into a new realm of pleasure. It had you pulsing, squeezing, shaking, and then squirting all over their cocks.
“Fuck, she squirted so much! Like a fucking faucet.” Someone growled.
Changbin came in your mouth, and with Chan still choking you, it heightened the feeling of your orgasm and you squirted a second time.
“Good fucking girl.” Purred Chan as he continued to roll his hips into you.
“She’s the most compatible we’ve ever seen.” Noted Jeongin.
“We’re gonna pull out now, baby.” Jisung stroked your cheek. You grasped his arm and shook your head.
“No! Need more!” You sobbed.
“I thought she was meant to be satisfied by now.” Said Hyunjin, confused.
“It’s like the more we give her, the more she needs.” Observed Felix.
“We have to keep going until she’s satisfied.” Confirmed Minho.
“What a fucking shame.” Sneered Seungmin as he approached the bed and pulled Jisung out of your cunt and lined himself up.
——-
A/n: I have similarly unhinged oneshots and drabbles that you may enjoy on my side blog @daydreams-after-dark .
General Taglist is open for both blogs.
——-
@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itshannjisung @chansbabyg @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @sunshinesquokka @enjaken @queenmea604 @lyramundana @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @jehhskz @vanillacupcakefrosting
#skz smut#skz x reader#skz ot8#han jisung smut#skz oneshot#bang chan smut#felix smut#seungmin smut#jeongin smut#lee know smut#chan x reader#han jisung x reader#changbin x reader#seungmin x reader#lee know x y/n#lee know x reader#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#felix x reader
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Criminal Love [teaser]
↳ Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader
❧ Genre : romance , smut, forced proximity, morally grey reader
❧ Warnings: violence, mention of knives, guns, drugs (will be updated)
❧ Summary: Hyunjin was a good agent. At least, he thought he was. The moment he is ordered to work with a very unpredictable, dangerous you (who also happens to be his little crush), things change. At every step you test his patience, push his limits only to see how far he's ready to go.
❧ Taglist: If you want to be added, you can either comment or send an ask :)
❧ Coming soon.
“Did you hear? She got suspended. Again.”
Hyunjin was not eavesdropping. Not really. Not completely. It wasn’t even his fault in the first place if people weren’t being discrete and he just happened to be having his coffee right here. It wasn’t also his fault that the simple mention of suspension and again meant only one thing: you. And that did get his attention. Without even realizing it, Hyunjin leant a little closer while sipping his coffee, wanting to hear more about their complaints.
“Again?” The second woman sighed and shook her head in disapproval. “It’s the second time this month alone! I really don’t understand how they allow her to work here.”
To that Hyunjin actually had an answer. Or at least half of it. The bosses could disagree with your behavior, your rudeness, your methods all they wanted – you were the only one who didn’t hesitate to dirty your hands, to infiltrate the darkest places and succeed. The results were staggering. No other agents managed to accomplish as much as you did in only two years. They hated you and admired you at the same time. And those women were no different. They could complain about you all they wanted, but they were simply jealous.
Yes, you were an incredible agent. Yes, your methods were questionable and a little bit bloody for Hyunjin’s liking (he shivered at the memory of you throwing a knife at another agent, grazing his ear, because he had offended you). But you were also a dangerous, cold beauty that they envied.
Jisung plopped beside Hyunjin with his own coffee in one hand. He observed his friend for a moment before smirking. “Why the long face? It’s only nine in the morning.”
Hyunjin ignored his comment, his attention was still on the women, straining to hear more about you. Unfortunately for him, they were done complaining. Or maybe they stopped because of the two men’s presence.
He sighed. “They’re talking about Y/N.”
Jisung snickers. “Of course they are.” He took a sip of his coffee, smiling knowingly into the cup. “And you’ve been eavesdropping because?”
Hyunjin shrugged, pretending that it was nothing. As if Jisung wasn’t already aware of why he was so interested. He took a sip of his own coffee, only to wince and realize that while he had been so concentrated on the conversation, his coffee got cold. What a lovely day, it couldn’t get worse.
“Because I thrive on gossips.” Hyunjin tried to make it sound like it was not a big deal. He wasn’t lying, not completely at least. He did enjoy office gossips; sometimes because the gossips were so ridiculous, he couldn’t understand how people could believe their words. Sometimes, because he would catch info he could use later.
“Yeah. It has nothing to do with our sweet and lovely Y/N.” Jisung mocked.
Hyunjin sighed in defeat. There was no use pretending with Jisung, despite his looks and his nonchalant attitude, he was incredibly observant and Hyunjin’s little (fat) crush on you didn’t go unnoticed. “Fine. I couldn’t help myself.”
Jisung’s grin stretched and he leaned closer, ready to either tease him till he would cry or be a good friend and end his misery. “See, not so hard! And since I’m an amazing friend, I will even help you. I know why they’re talking about Y/N.”
Hyunjin cocked a brow, taken off guard. But it made sense. The two of you were friends, Hyunjin just never guessed you would talk about your cases with him.
“Our little Y/N was hunting a criminal for the past week. Can’t remember his name even if I helped her to track him. He took a hostage, threatened the man’s life. What a bad idea, but he couldn’t know that, could he? She shot the victim in the leg to shock the dude. Worked marvelously. She got him.”
Was it anyone else, Hyunjin would have been surprised. But he wasn’t. The only thing that still surprised him was your creative ways at getting things done. Apparently, nothing could stop you. Not even someone’s else life was on the line.
“How did she even explain herself?” Hyunjin wondered out loud.
“That’s a good question.” Jisung admitted and shrugged, “She has her ways, I guess. She doesn’t tell me everything.”
“Sure about that?”
Jisung gave him a lazy smile. “By the way, boss wants to see you. Right now.”
Hyunjin groaned and quickly got back on his feet. “And you couldn’t tell me sooner?”
“Nope.” Jisung laughed, “Was enjoying the moment, you know.”
#stray kids#hyunjin#han jisung#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#hyunjin smut#hyunjin x reader#criminal love teaser
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Whiplash (1)
Pairing: Felix x Reader x Hyunjin
Genre: Street Racing, Gang, Friends to lovers
Word Count: 3.2k
“Y/N against Han!” Chan yells, trying to gather everyone around. You stared at Han, trying to scare him as you impatiently waited for Chan to tell you guys to start. This was always a thing at these parties, you had been the undefeated beer chugging champion for months and still everytime, someone dared to go up against you in hopes of gaining the title. But it never worked, so far no one was able to beat you.
“Good luck.” you hear from beside you. You turn to look, seeing Hyunjin and Felix, both standing there with a smile on their faces, smiles that melt your fucking heart. Felix sends you a little wink as you turn to face Han, making your heart flutter.
You were so fucking in love with both of them.
You had known Hyunjin and Felix for years. The three of you had met by chance, at a party just like this and you still weren't sure what caused it but the three of you became pretty inseparable very quickly. And over those years the three of you had become the best of friends. Friends who told each other everything, even the hard things. The three of you had your ups and downs throughout the years but there was nothing that you wouldn't do for each other.
Over the years, you had only ever seen two sides of Hyunjin and Felix. The first side was the sweet caring side that brought you flowers and ice cream to cheer you up when you had broken up with your piece of shit boyfriend.
And the second side of them was the terrifyingly angry side. They had both beat the shit out of your ex boyfriend when they found out he was cheating on you. Even though you had been friends for a long time, somewhere along the way you had fallen for both of them. Not by choice of course. You never wanted this to happen but somehow, somewhere the platonic love you had for them turned romantic. Those feelings however, were shoved deep down inside of you, and were never allowed to see the light of day. They made it so fucking hard for you to keep those feelings in check. Whenever you were around one or both of them, they were constantly touching you, holding onto you. It was like they needed to be near you and still, you continuously told yourself that you could never go there with either of them. Those things between you needed to stay purely platonic and you would just have to be okay with that.
But you weren't okay with it. You never showed your romantic love for them when you were around both or any mutual friends. Even when you watched women flirt with each of them, and them flirting back. The desperation you felt to be the one that they touched like that, or talked too like that. The best you could do was dream about it. You weren't about to put yourself or them in that position, you didn't want what you already had to be ruined. If you confessed to either and one didn't feel the same or both, there's no coming back from that. The three of you would never be the same. You didn't want to lose your best friends.
“Ready.” chan yells. “Set…” He smiles. “And go!”
You begin chugging one out of 4 beers in front of you, then the second, and the third. By the time you got to the fourth one, Han was just starting his third.
You could see Hyunjin and Felix out of the corner of your eye smiling and rooting for you to win, instead of their other friend. As you finished your last beer, you threw your cup on the floor before lifting your hands above your head to celebrate while you relished in the sound of everyone clapping for you and cheering you on.
Han walked away looking defeated while you took a shot that you didn't need. You were already drunk, but it helped when Hyunjin had walked over to you, a smile on his face as he picked you up and spun you around.
"You're amazing." He laughs, setting you down on the floor. You could feel the blush spreading across your face as he stared at you. Felix came over, pulling you out of Hyunjin's embrace and into his own. “That's my girl.” Felix smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours like the two of you were in a goddamn drama. You could feel your heart racing so hard while the liquor flowed through your body. your knees were weak. Out of nowhere, Han shoves in between you two, sticking his finger in your face.
"You." He hiccups. "I want a rematch." He finishes. You smile at the drunk man, already forgetting about the moments with Hyunjin and Felix.
"You wanna go again?” You laugh. “Are you sure you want to lose again?" You ask, heading back to the table. You watch as a drunk Chan and drunk Changbin try to fill more cups up with beer, laughing as they spill some all over the table.
"3, 2, 1." Everyone yells before you and Han have your rematch. You were already drunk, so you were moving a little slower than before but Han, he was a mess. He was trying not to gag as he finished his first beer, while you were already starting on your third. You knew you could take your time and sip it but you wanted to destroy him.
And you did.
"Don't take it too hard." You drunkenly slur, suddenly feeling dizzy. Your legs feel like they're about to give out on you as you tumble back. You brace yourself for the impact you knew was coming from the hard floor, but instead you were graced with the feeling of a hard chest and strong arms holding you up.
“Woah, there drunky.” You hear the extremely deep voice that makes your panties wet. Felix helps you up, standing steadily on your own two feet, his hands on your shoulders as he smiles at you. “Hyunjin.” He calls.
Oh god why?
“She's plastered.” Felix says, smiling at you again. Ugh you wanted to melt.
“Should one of us take you home?” Hyunjin asks.
“Yesssssss. You both take me home and to bed!” You giggle, stumbling towards the front door. Hyunjin and Felix walk after you, trying to help you not to bump into things on your way out of the house. Both men guide you towards Hyunjins car, where he gets into the driver's seat, while Felix helps you into the back seat. He was going to close the door until you pulled him back there with you. He lets out a laugh as he closes the door and you lay your head in his lap. Felix rests his hand on you as you quickly fall asleep. Hyunjin glares at Felix in the back with you as he drives off to your house.
You wake up the next morning with a throbbing head and your entire body being sore. You remembered doing the beer chugging challenge with Han, and then a shot but then your memory cuts out. You rub your eyes as you reach for your phone, and just as you thought messages from Hyunjin and Felix.
[From Hyunjin 3:08am] You might be a little sore in the morning. You tripped on a curb after getting out of the car and running once we got to your building. Felix and I tried to catch you before hand but fuck your quick.
[From Felix 3:10am] I don't care what Hyunjin says, I really did try to grab you before you walked into that door. I hope your head isn't too bad when you get up. Text me and I'll bring you food.
You read through the rest of them, and groan about what a pain in the ass you are when you're drunk. You glance at the time, it's still morning but fuck you could go for a burger right about now. You decided you were going to surprise the two with food, so you got up, took some advil and put on a cute summer dress, chugged a bunch of water before heading out.
You stood outside the house, kicking the door impatiently with food for 8 of you and it was getting heavy.
“I'm fucking coming.” You hear from inside. An angry looking Chan opens the door, until he sees you and then his expression softens.
“Oh shit, let me take that.” Chan says, quickly grabbing the food from your hands, and taking it inside. “Guys, Y/N brought food!” Chan yells. Suddenly seven men emerge from different rooms, coming into the kitchen, murmuring thank you's in between bites of food.
“I told you I'd bring you food.” Felix laughs as he takes a bite of his burger.
“Yeah, but I wanted to do something nice, since I'm assuming you and Hyunjin took care of me last night.” You sigh.
“That we did.” Hyunjin says, glancing at Felix before they both start snickering. Once you all were done eating you sat on the couch, Hyunjin right beside you while Felix sprawled out with his head in your lap. You had no fucking idea what movie was even playing on the screen right now. All your focus was on the fact that Felix had the need to reach up and touch your face constantly, while, you're assuming, accidentally brushing his arm against your nipple. Every single time. While Hyunjin sat there with his hand grasped tightly to your thigh, squeezing it every once in a while. At the end of the first movie Chan had gotten some kind of phone call, saying that the rest of them needed to leave to take care of something. So off went Chan, Seungmin, I.N, Lee Know, Han and Changbin, leaving the three of you alone.
You tried to ignore it, you tried to focus on the show but you were struggling and by the middle of the second movie you couldn't take it anymore.
“Move. Off.” You say, tapping Felix's head. He sits up, displeased that you were getting up. You quickly walk to the kitchen, trying to catch your breath as you squeeze your legs together, trying to sooth your throbbing clit. You lay your head and stomach onto the island in the kitchen, the coolness of the marble helping the heat you were currently feeling. You must have been too busy listening to the sound of your breathing with your eyes closed as you calmed yourself down, because you didn't hear the footsteps that came into the kitchen. You had no idea anyone was there until you felt a pair of hands slide onto your hips as someone stood behind you, rubbing their hands up and down your back. You opened your eyes and saw Hyunjin laying on the island beside you, his face so close to yours you could so easily kiss him at that moment.
“You left us so you could be in here?” Felix asks, gliding his hands through your hair.
“It's cold here.” You sigh. “I was hot in the living room.”
“We could have helped you cool off.” Hyunjin smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut, you were trying to calm yourself down not get even more worked up.
“I have to go.” You announce, standing up.
“Are you going to come to the club tonight?” Felix asks as you grab your purse. “Yup, I will be there. Gonna go get ready.” You say, avoiding more eye contact.
“Well we can come help you.” Hyunjin offers.
“Nope. See you later.” You yell, slamming the door behind you.
**
A few hours later you're sitting on your bed, just wearing a bra and panties as you let your makeup dry while you're on the phone with your best, and only close girlfriend.
“Seulgi.” You whine. “I can't do it. I'm going to end up jumping them both.”
“Don't do that. Remember what you told me. What if they don't reciprocate your feelings?” She says.
“Okay yeah, whatever. But what if they do?” You say. You knew you were being delusional, but sometimes the way they were with you made you wonder.
“I mean you could try.” She laughs.
“You're supposed to stop me from this shit. Are you sure you can't come tonight?” You sigh.
“I've got a date, and she's fucking hot. I cannot miss it.” Seulgi says.
You groan loudly. “Maybe I should just be a lesbian? Is it easier?”
“Well I've always been one so I dunno, but trust me babe, you'd get chewed up and spit out if you switched sides.” She laughs, loudly. You roll your eyes at her glancing at the time. It was almost 9:30pm and you needed to finish getting ready.
“Shit.” You groan. “Okay, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later. Have fun tonight!” You finish before hanging up the phone. As soon as you're off the phone, you put on some music and start dancing around your room as you fix your hair. You pull out a few potential outfits from your drawers, throwing them on the bed as you sing along to your playlist. As you're dancing as you get yourself into the little black dress you had decided to wear. You slip on your shoes, grabbing your purse and taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before you head out, knowing that Felix and Hyunjin are both outside waiting in the car for you. It seemed to be a bit of an unwritten rule that whenever you were going out with them, they always showed up to your apartment at 10pm on the dot. They did it once and you had never really spoken about It after that but they just continued to do so, not that you were complaining.
The three of you get to the club, and head for the bar. You each take a few shots before Hyunjin and Felix are both dragged out to the dance floor. You knew the girl who grabbed Hyunjin, she was his on and off again fuck buddy on occasion, but the one who took Felix was a stranger. You didn't like it. You didn't like that Felix was dancing with the girl and you sure didn't like that bitch with Hyunjin. She always muttered shit about you under her breath, glared at you and acted as if she was so much better than you. But you put up with it because if Hyunjin was happy then you tried to be happy for him even if it broke you a little each time.
“Hey beautiful.” You hear from behind you. “Can I buy you a drink?” You turn to look, seeing a very attractive man standing there. You glance at the two men dancing, and realize they were in their own worlds so why shouldn't you be?
“I'd love a shot.” You smile as you pat the seat next to you. He sat down and motioned to the bartender for four shots.
“Im simon.” He grins, holding out his hand.
“Y/N.” You reply, gently shaking his hand.
“So what's a girl like you doing over here all by yourself?” He asks. You roll your eyes before laughing.
“What a cliche line.” You giggle, taking your second shot. “My friends were dragged away to the dance floor.” You say motioning behind you. “My other friends are around here somewhere though.”
“Would you like to dance?” He asks.
You nod your head yes, he slides his second shot towards you, motioning for you to take it. You do without question and follow Simon to the dance floor. He stands behind you, his hands on your hips as you get used to the beat and rhythm of the song. It doesn't take you long to feel the music flowing through you as you grind your ass into his crotch. You look around the dance floor, seeing Hyunjin and Felix's eyes focused on you and what you were doing. Your drinks had kicked in full force, making you feel bolder than you should be and you took it up a notch. You danced even more provocatively on Simon, making sure that both men saw you and what you were doing. While you were dancing on him, Simon continued to hand you shot after shot, enjoying the more drunk you got, the sluttier you got until you couldn't take anymore. You'd been dancing for well over an hour, with Hyunjin and Felix continuously watching you while also trying to pay attention to the ones they were with. After 15 minutes, they went and sat in a booth, pretending to listen to what the girls were saying but their eyes were almost always on you. Simon turned you around, too quickly and you stumbled. He looks down at you laughing, wrapping his arm around your waist.
“Why don't I take you back to my place?” He asks, smiling at you.
“Okay!” You giggle. Your inhibition was way too low. Simon begins to guide you off the dance floor, heading towards the front doors. You're stumbling all over the place as you try to walk with him. “Come on.” He urges, trying to pull you forward with him.
“Hey.” You hear just as you step out into the fresh air. You feel two hands grab onto your arm, stopping Simon from moving any further.
“Can I help you?” He asks. You lift your head up to see your two favorite men standing there with stone cold faces as they glare at Simon.
“She's not leaving with you.” Hyunjin deadpans. He reaches over grabbing you from Simon's grasp and pulling you into him and Felix, who wraps his arm around your waist.
“Who do.. are you to say who I can go home with!? Huh!?” You ask, staring at both of them. “Maybe I.” You hiccup. “Maybe I need to get off too.. cause of you two!” You yell.
You hadn't noticed Simon take off while you were yelling.
“Because of us?” Felix smiles. “what'd we do?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.
“Don't you know what you do to me?” You sigh. “You make it so hard to be platonic.” You scoff. “The things I wanna do to the two of you are not platonic.” You giggle, as you start wandering off. Both men quickly grab a hand each, both smirking as they guide you towards the car to take you home to put you to bed. They couldn't wait for you to wake up tomorrow.
As they're heading towards your apartment, Hyunjin gets a call.
“Yeah Chan?” He answers. “Tonight? Let me ask him.”
“There's a race tonight. $150k for grand prize.” He tells Felix. They both glance back at your sleeping frame, before back at each other. Felix nods to Hyunjin. “Yeah we'll go. Just gonna drop Y/N off at the house instead and then we'll be there. Text me the address.” He finishes, hanging up the call.
Felix heads back to the group's house instead of yours, carrying you inside before tucking you into Felix's bed. They quietly close the door, heading out to the address Chan texted, hoping that you didn't hear any of that conversation. You didn't know what they did, and they wanted to keep it that way, it was the best way that they could protect what was most important to them.
You.
#stray kids#lee felix#hwang hyunjin#felix smut#hyunjin smut#stray kids smut#kpop fanfic#kpop writing#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop icons#skz#skz writing#skz fanfic#skz smut
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♡make me feel it - hyunjin
MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY ☕//m.list
pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader
warnings: breastfeeding, oral fixation, slight mommy kink
“You’re so needy tonight, hyunjinnie.”
Hyunjin buried his face into your waist. He pushed his face around like a hungry puppy begging for something to eat. And he was dangerously close to begging. Literally begging. You ran your fingers loving through his long hair, periodically swiping your thumb or pointer finger down along his jawline. Your fingers travelled slowly up to his waiting mouth, lips full and tongue starving.
“Tell me what you want.” you teased.
“Mmhmfmmm” an incoherent mumble vibrated against your bare stomach. Hyunjin’s face was now completely pressed against your body. His delicate, dreamy features eclipsed by your soft skin.
“I can’t hear you.” you smirked. You loved when he acted like this. You could feel your own arousal beginning to stain your cotton panties.
Hyunjin raised his face and locked eyes with you. He could almost start to drool if he opened his mouth too quickly. He positioned his arms on either side of you and inched his body up, up, up to your chest. The tanktop you were wearing hid nothing of what was underneath. Your nipples poked and proded through the thin fabric. You playfully adjusted yourself from underneath Hyunjin, pushing your chest out and giving me a quizzitive look.
Hyunjin could feel his desperation growing out of control. His head was starting to buzz and ring and clang and pound. Suddenly his hands were at the hem of your shirt, aggressively pulling upwards towards your head. You let out a small squeal as your tanktop was driven up over your head and thrown hap-hazardly onto the floor.
Wet lips made deprived contact with the first erect nipple. Hyunjin moaned weakly as he let his tongue swirl and swim across your breast. Heavy breathing gave way to sucking- hard sucking. You frantically gripped bith of your hands onto Hyunjin’s head. The sheer force of the suction made a primal noise escape your throat. You were unknowlngly grinding your hips into Hyunjin’s leg, the soaking dampness of your panties streaking and rubbing up and down on his strong thigh. Hyunjin had one had clutched around your breast, the other was eagerly pumping his long shaft. The inconsolable stiffness of his cock was almost too much for him to bare.
“M-gonna come…” he winced out, his mouth full. Saliva was falling from his swollen lips and coating both of your breasts in a pornographic glisten.
“Say it. Say it, then you can come.” you faned your fingers through his hair and firmly grasped a handful.
"Mommy... Mommy! I'm going to come, please..."
"That's a good boy." You permitted peacefully. A warm release coated your panties. Sticky semen seeped between your thighs. You glanced down to see Hyunjin's mouth still resolutely fastened to your breast. His sucking and eased down to a even, leisurely pace. His eyes were softly closed as his body began to go completely limp. You giggled at the sight of your perfect boyfriend so perfectly at peace.
"So, so needy."
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#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids#skz scenarios#skz x reader#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin stray kids#stray kids hyunjin#hyunjin drabbles#hyunjin smut#hyunjin scenarios#skz drabbles#hyunjin#stray kids drabbles
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B for Breath Play
hwang hyunjin x afab!reader
warning/s: choking
a/n: established relationship, some fluff if you squint
notes: this man is the death of me
The many paintings and portraits of you that adorned your boyfriend's studio always made you feel breathless, but for the first time you noticed they had something in common (except you, of course). They all seemed to somehow be focused on your neck. You asked Hyunjin about it and at first he got shy and flustered, after all, your relationship was still new but you were already head over heels for this man.
Then, when you asked him again, he told you, shyly at first, how he loves the perfume you spray below your ear, how he loves to kiss and bite your skin, how comforting it is to bury his face in your neck while you hold him.
"And, I'd love to wrap my hands around it while we make love."- he admits with a smirk and you seem flustered after hearing his confession.
You were silent for a second and Hyunjin's face fell, worrying that he might've crossed a line you haven't talked about yet.
"I-I'm sorry Y/N, if that's too much-" - he starts but you stop him.
"No, it's okay. We can try that. But on one condition."- you smirk.
"Anything."- Hyunjin nods eagerly.
"I get to wrap my hands around your neck too."- you say and it's Hyunjin's turn to look flustered now.
They already are, with the hold you have on him, he wants to tell you but he says nothing, only agrees to your proposition.
Now, with his cock buried deep inside you, rolling his hips slowly, Hyunjin is grabbing your wrist gently, bringing your hand closer to his throat.
You feel nervous even though both of you prepared and knew how to do this safely, you didn't want to accidentally harm your lover in any way. Hyunjin could see the hesitation in your eyes and he reassured you with a gentle squeeze of your wrist and a slow roll of his hips, his hot skin brushing against your clit deliciously.
"Please Y/N. Take my breath away." - he says lowly, playing with your fingers, his hard cock dragging against your warm walls. Your eyes almost roll back in your skull the way he's begging, his eyes pure lust as he looks at you through his bangs. You gently put your hand around his neck and slowly press your fingers into his skin. Hyunjin's breath hitches in his throat, his hips stuttering a little before he relaxes into your touch and starts fucking you a little faster.
He likes it, he likes it a lot, the way you hold his neck like that, the power you have over his life in that moment. He thinks he wouldn't mind dying buried deep inside you like that.
When you release him he whimpers loudly, fucking you faster and deeper, his cock stretching you just right.
"Fuck Y/N!"- Hyunjin moans, his hand traveling up to rest on your neck. He leans down to brush his sweet lips against yours, the air between you mixing for a few moments, both of you breathing each other in as he fucks into you more desperately. Even in the heated moment, he looks at you for consent, for any sign that you don't want him to do this, his eyes full of love for you. You nod slightly and he smirks pressing on your neck, pretty fingers wrapped around you. He looks at the way your lips fall open and your eyes flutter and makes a mental picture of your fucked out face for a painting, after all you're his main inspiration.
He leans in closer again, his lips on yours, gentle, as he runs them over your cheek until you feel his breath hit your ear, your head spinning as you near your orgasm.
"I wanna be the air you breathe."- Hyunjin whispers.
You already are, you want to say but even after he released your neck, you are still breathless.
#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin#skz smut#skz fluff#stray kids smut#hyunjin smut#skz x reader
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🪐˓⠀˚⠀foggy glass⠀@⠀hwang hyunjin.
it wasn't something you were in the habit of doing, but it wasn't usually something you could avoid. after all, it was practically impossible to resist your boyfriend when he looked that way. it hadn't even been your fault, you had only done what he asked you to do⠀★⠀1k words
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀; general m.list⠀☆⠀join taglist .ᐟ
content: smut,, sub!hyunjin, messy blowjob, mentions of biting / neck kisses. plot,, hyunjin tries to tease you, but it ends with him shuddering under your touch in his car. credits,, mdni banner by @cafekitsune. warnings,, if any under 18 acc interacts with this fic i'll block them. note,, no proofread, i don't even know- i wrote this in a haze ajsdhjasd
It wasn't something you were in the habit of doing, but it wasn't usually something you could avoid. After all, it was practically impossible to resist your boyfriend when he looked that way, clutching the cushioned surface of his seat with one of his hands, the other tangled in your hair, visibly overwhelmed, his pillowy lips spilling soft whimpers and his eyes fluttering, longing to memorise you but unable to keep them open for too long.
It hadn't even been your fault. He had left you a breathy audio in your chat while you were still at work, full of sighs and hurried whispers in which you could only hear his sweet voice calling for you, and then a brief message inviting you to a new restaurant that had recently opened two blocks south of his dorm. He had murmured something about dressing prettily ーyou didn't know if it was a request for you or a warning about himー, and then texted at what time he'd come to pick you up.
You had only done what he asked you to do. The fact that you had waited until you were sitting in the passenger seat to apply the gloss was a completely casual act, and had nothing to do with how much you knew Hyunjin liked the look on your face when you stared at yourself in the mirror, the pad of lipstick leaving a glossy surface on your lips that made him lick his own, almost hungrily.
He had confessed it to you a few months ago, in the middle of a hot make-out session on the sofa in the rehearsal room, when you had seized the opportunity to touch your boyfriend in the way he loved the most, no one left in the building. And you could see the reflection of his blurry gaze now, in the mirror you always carried with you, your eyes fixed in the vicious way he reacted to your motions, his eyes locked on your mouth. It was addictive, and you knew what turned him on the most was the way you looked down with a sharp gaze, the way you did when you rode him.
It was also addictive the way he responded to everything you did to him without needing to say a word. You knew he wouldn't protest if you leaned into him, but you were surprised by the hungry way his lips crashed into yours as soon as he had you close enough, all tongue and teeth, as if he intended to devour you whole. You let out an airy laugh, taking his face in your hands and ignoring the way your gloss was sticking to him, savoring its strawberry taste as soon as the kiss became so chaotic that you could only think mine, mine, mine…
You felt him give you two quick taps against your hip, hinting that he wanted you in his lap, but you ignored him, peeling your lips from his with a quick bite that left him whining for more, and pressing them against his neck, sucking above his beautiful mole, sliding your tongue over his skin and your hand down his abs until it rested over the bulge in his pants. You smiled, chuckling against his mouth, palming his erection, enjoying the way he stirred under your hands, overtaken by your touch and so adorably desperate for some friction, his throat producing the most delicious sounds.
Hyunjin tried to pull you back to him, wetting his lips as if he could feel yours on his again, or perhaps with the ghost of your last kiss still in his mouth. You tangled your hand in his hair, letting him keen towards the warmth of your palm, your breath on his skin, but tugging slightly at his locks before he could touch you. You swallowed the mewl that got stuck in his throat, and also the way his hips stuttered beneath you, and you could almost see the way his eyes slammed shut as you began to undo the button of his pants, sliding the zipper down and making him sit up a little so you could bend over his cock, pulling it out of his boxers and sucking the tip between your lips.
His shaky moan interrupted a breathless “fuck”, the sudden warm wetness around him as your gave him tentative little bobs making his head go dizzy. You tighten the hand you have around the base of his shaft, his low groan making you shiver, and you pull away for a while, your gaze falling over him. He looks completely wrecked already, his hair dishevelled by his own hand, a bead of drool about to spill from the corner of his lips.
You smile, still making eye contact with him, his cheeks stained in carmine, and kitten lick the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it, humming. Hyunjin’s hips bucked helplessly, slurring a lazy “please, please, please” with broken voice, pouty under your touch. You slowly graze his dick with your teeth, the hiss he lets out contradicting the salty taste of pre-cum you taste on your tongue.
“Ah, ah, ahー baby, your mouthー” he slurred, his thigh tense and twitching under your hand, arousal pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Soー nghー so good…”
You pull back a second time, his whimper curving your lips, and you ask, voice hoarse “Mm-hm, feels good, baby boy?”
“Ohー Oh, God, so good” choking back a loud whine, dropping his head against the car window, his cheek sticking to the wet glass, his breathing drawing wisps of smoke against the surface, the condensation blurring the pornographic view of your boyfriend on the empty street where he had parked the car. You sank back down and suck him further into your mouth, his babblings becoming nonsense as soon as they left his lips, and you felt his cock throb in your mouth as you gently grasped his balls, feeling when he came down your throat, spilling moans into the car. You never make it to the restaurant.
﹙ ★ ﹚⠀taglist⠀—⠀@skzms · @starlostastronaut · @lyramundana · @rylea08 · @atinyniki · @jazziwritesthings · @manuosorioh · @hanjsquokka · @linosssss · @caitlyn98s .ᐟ
© stayconnecteed 2024 · do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms
#﹙ ★ ﹚⠀mars⠀—⠀writes.#stray kids scenarios#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz smut#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin scenarios#hyunjin smut#sub!hyunjin
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Hyunjin Fic Recommendation
a - angst
f - fluff
s - smut
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
One Shots
Canvas (s f)
⋆˙⟡♡ A late night with your boyfriend turns into something more as you both try something you had only talked about before.
drunk on rose water (s)
⋆˙⟡♡ it was well established now that you were fucking your way around the frat. you hadn't intended to make hyunjin your next victim, but when you end up alone together, it seems like the perfect opportunity.
Visions of You in Solitude (a f s)
⋆˙⟡♡ You were hired to paint him- not fall for him. But intentions quickly shift when Hyunjin finds himself infatuated with you and learns the secrets you harbor.
Spilled Tea (s)
no nut november - hyunjin (s)
kinktober day five - hyunjin (s)
#hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#stray kids#skz#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#skz fic recs#stray kids fic recs#hyunjin smut#hyunjin fluff#hyunjin fic recs#hyunjin angst
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https://wendy-029.ludgu.top/pt/daoJflM
#steam#francisco lachowski#motorcycle#regina mills#energy work#hyunjin smut#marisol yotta#three days grace#gojo satoru#futbol#enneagram
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⭐︎ ━━━ HONEY🤤
⭐︎ ━━━ SS: 11
⭐︎ ━━━ PROFILES
HONEY: up in coming rock band; produces their own music
HYUNJIN: lead singer of HONEY; damn near your typical “rockstar” with a bit of a soft spot
CHAN: drummer and oldest of the band, “dad” of the group
MINHO: plays bass guitar for the band, mischievous one of the group especially on stage.
JISUNG: guitar player; too much energy, not enough stage time to get it all out
SEUNGMIN: synthizers; known for getting bored when they start doing crowd work and unplugs amps
⭐︎ ━━━━━━ M.LIST
⭐︎ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback
⭐︎ ━━━ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @skzfelixlove @4l17h4 @hyunjinhoexxx @linocvp1d @chartrucewhore @midnightseul @realrintaro @princelingperfect @highlydestiny @hyuneyeon @skzswife
highlighted red? i can’t tag you
© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE
#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 what you call that? {hyunjin x reader}#stray kids#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids x reader smut#skz smut#stray kids smau#skz smau#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x reader smut#hwang hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader smut#hyunjin smut#hyunjin smau#hwang hyunjin smut#hwang hyunjin smau
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#tw self destruction#steam#park shin hye#nichelle nichols#corpse husband#treasure#energy work#anime style#hyunjin smut#daisy ridley#marisol yotta#filmedit#katsuki bakugou#gojo satoru#futbol
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ʚ : SKZ TEXTING YOU "WHAT POSITION YALL IN?" ₊̣ !
— cw. mentions of sex , suggestive language
authors note. this was a request but i had to delete the post cost it wasnt letting me upload anything.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
©️LUVYENI
#kpop x reader#kpop smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#skz hard hours#stray kids hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#skz hard thoughts#skz smut#skz texts#skz fake texts#skz smau#bang chan smut#lee know smut#changbin smut#hyunjin smut#han jisung smut#lee felix smut#kim seungmin smut#jeongin smut
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kinktober day five — hyunjin
pairing: hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
tags: friends to lovers (kinda), kinktober series, smut!!!🔞
warnings: swearing, nude drawings, fingering, masturbation, use of “pretty”, lmk if i forgot anything!
inspo: uni student hyunjin but make it art
kink: exhibitionism
{ wc: 2522 }
It was a strange thing to be offered, but it was also flattering to be seen as a suitable candidate. The art department had reached out to a number of students to act as models for their sketch class—and you were one of them. It probably helped that your best friend, Hyunjin, was taking that class and you were sure he was the one to mention your name first.
He had asked you a few times to model for him and the only time you said yes was when you found a thrilling show to watch while you modelled; it was easier to stay still with your mind so occupied.
So you said yes.
And only then did the teacher tell you there was a catch.
“Nude?” You all but screamed.
“I know you and Mr. Hwang are close so I can pair you two together—but if you’re more comfortable modelling for a female student that’s fine too. Either way, you won’t be able to participate until you sign the forms.”
You looked at the consent forms in your hand, mulling it over for a few moments still. Modelling for a girl would be more comfortable, but you didn’t know anyone that took Art and being naked in front of a stranger was far more nerve wracking to you.
You called Hyunjin right away. He assured you he’d make sure you’re comfortable and that you didn’t have to agree at all and that he would buy you lunch for a week. He needed a good score on this assignment and he, too, didn’t feel all that comfortable sketching a stranger under those circumstances.
So you signed the forms.
*
You decided to use your room for the assignment, for privacy reasons and to help you feel more at ease. Nothing could be too scary with your supportive plushies in the same room as you.
Hyunjin walked in with his iced Americano (a second one for you, too) and started setting up his station.
He put all his pens and pencils in order, three huge erasers, two sharpeners, and his giant sketchbook. It was so big you guessed the sketch would end up being life sized.
As he set everything up, you fiddled nervously with the string of your robe. It was just your bathrobe, nothing too special, but the whole situation made your heart race and there was sweat gathering on your forehead.
You weren’t so sure if you could do this after all.
“Hyune,” you start, “does it have to be completely nude?”
He looked up at you from where he was straightening his pencils, eyes boring into you. You swallowed.
“Those are the requirements,” he caught his bottom lip between his teeth before he adds, “do you wanna put on some underwear as a warm-up?”
“Do you need sketches of me in my underwear?” You purse your lips.
“Not really,” he says, bashfully, “but if it’ll be an easier start for you?”
You inhale deeply. Untie your bathrobe. Exhale.
You let the fabric fall off your shoulders, pooling at your feet, before you settle on your bed.
Hyunjin nods at you with a small smile, encouraging.
“You got this,” he tries, putting a fist up in the air in solidarity.
“Can I put on a podcast so I don’t get bored?” You say, conscious to not move your legs too far apart.
“Sure, it’ll probably take me a while,” he chuckles, “I need to do like five.”
“Oh, dear god,” you roll your eyes and Hyunjin laughs at you. The nerves you were feeling have all disappeared already—it actually isn’t too weird being naked in front of him.
He’s your closest friend, has seen you being sick after drinking too much, has seen all your embarrassing childhood photos, has seen you with bed head and delirious from no sleep. He’s seen it all—so it shouldn’t be too weird for him to see your tits, too.
Hyunjin directs your poses, the first one casual as you lay on your back. He’s only sketching your upper body, he says, from the neck to your bellybutton, so he lets you cover up your bottom half with a blanket so you aren’t too cold. The first pose is fun since you don’t have to do anything too strenuous.
Once he flips the page on his sketchbook to a new one he changes your pose. This time your profile is facing him, the leg closer to him bent to hide most of your body. You don’t get the privilege of warmth this time, and your butt starts hurting after ten minutes in this position. But you focus on the podcast that’s still playing in the background instead, trying to be a good model for Hyunjin.
For the third pose he gets up and moves the table to the very edge of your bed. You look at him questioningly as he does so, before you let out a small, “why?”
“It’s just that, well, I need a close up,” he whispered the last part, eyes focused on rearranging his pencils neatly.
“Of….?” You think you know the answer.
“Of you,” he says, pointedly, and so you understand.
You can’t help but think he was going too easy on you until now, that this was the real assignment and he didn’t want to scare you away. And perhaps it worked, because the thought of Hyunjin staring at your pussy with that amount of concentration doesn’t scare you as much as it would’ve twenty minutes ago.
It actually… excites you. You feel a tingle all around your stomach, and your heartbeat feels louder all of a sudden.
It was one thing to just be naked in front of Hyunjin, but having him look right at you, with his face frowned in concentration made your core flutter.
You nod timidly at Hyunjin’s questioning look before he smiles. He sits back down on his chair, grabbing his pencil, and getting to the task at hand.
You feel yourself getting wet at the amount of attention he’s giving your body—even if it’s just with his eyes—and you hope he doesn’t notice it. But you do, and with your legs spread the way he asked them to be, you can even smell your own arousal. You hope he isn’t close enough to notice it as well, but you have a feeling that hope is futile. He can definitely tell.
“I read a lot about this once we were given the assignment,” he starts, focusing solely on his sketchbook as he talks, “and sometimes models feel.. you know. So don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m…” you wanted to defend yourself, because you weren’t even that embarrassed. Just surprisingly turned on. “Okay.”
“It would be more embarrassing for you if you were a guy, guys can’t hide it,” he says, as if to make you feel better.
“I don’t think I can hide anything from you right now,” you scoff at him. Hyunjin giggles in response.
He lets another five minutes or so go by before he takes a look at his drawing. You can’t be too sure because you’ve never seen yourself so close before but it looks like a good sketch. A really good one. You’re flattered at the attention to detail and it doesn’t make you feel shy anymore. You’re almost proud.
“When I was reading,” he coughs, “there was someone who said it’s nicer to sketch those body parts after.. a.. well,”
“You’ve just stared at my vagina for twenty minutes straight, Hyune, surely you can get some words out.”
He looks up at you, eyes round and glossy. His plush bottom lip is slightly red from where he’s been sucking on it as he draws.
“Female genitalia is a beautiful subject to draw after the model has experienced sexual gratification.”
You burst out laughing. “Who talks like that?”
“That’s a direct quote from the article!” He defends.
“So you want me to sexually gratify myself?”
He blushes deeply at that, shaking his hands quickly. “Not if that’s weird! Just if you wanted to. I have enough to probably pass I was just curious if she was right about it and—“
The words die on his tongue when you bring your hand between your legs. Your actions are fuelled by a strange bravery you aren’t familiar with, and the insane amount of arousel that’s coursing through you.
He quickly gets up, turning his eyes away from you.
“Wait, I can leave and you can call me back in when you’re d—“
“—don’t,” you say, running your fingers up and down your wetness, “maybe you can draw the process, too?”
His eyes go wide, so wide he almost looks like a cartoon, before he’s fumbling around to find the chair again. He sits down, quickly grabbing his pencils but they all fall onto the floor in his clumsy urge to get drawing right away.
He recovers them quickly, setting them aside but not at all bothering to arrange them in his neat order like before.
“Yeah, good idea,” he finally says, trying his best to look and draw and breathe at the same time.
He doesn’t have time to draw you teasing yourself before you slip two of your fingers inside you.
The sight is so pretty, so beautiful, and Hyunjin freezes for a moment. He blinks once then twice before he quickly starts putting pencil to paper and sketching out the sight before him.
He knows he won’t be able to do any of it justice but he has to try.
“Can you, move a little less?” He asks after a moment or two.
“I won’t reach sexual gratification if I don’t move,” you explain with a chuckle. If you’re honest, having Hyunjin watching you touch yourself might be enough to get you to cum without much movement at all—but you aren’t sure he should know about all that.
“Yeah, but it’s fucking beautiful and I want to get the details right,” he says.
You exhale lightly at that, trying not to react too much to what he just said. You aren’t sure if he can see you clench around your own fingers or not, but you nod in agreement.
“Pull them out a little bit, just so I can see better,” he directs, so simply, as if he isn’t talking about your fingers deep inside your cunt.
You follow his directions dutifully, as you’ve done all afternoon.
It’s just half of your fingers now, which isn’t much, but you can still feel the stretch. Still, with no friction available to you it makes you needy. So needy.
You want to move your fingers more, you want Hyunjin to watch you do more.
“Hyune,” you say, softly.
“Yeah?” He asks, still concentrating on his task.
“Wanna move now,”
“Just a few final details, okay?” He adds in a whisper, “you’re so beautiful,”
“Hyunjin, please,” you let out, because his compliment isn’t helping your patience at all.
“Would it help if you moved for a bit and then went back to the same pose?” He offers, eyes swimming in sympathy.
“It would, yes,” you nod quickly.
“Go on, then, just for a bit,” he smiles, supportive, before his gaze goes back to his sketch. He takes an eraser, fixing up a few details in an attempt to give you some privacy. But you don’t want that at all.
“Hyunie,” you whine out, and his head snaps up in a second. “It’s no fun if you look away.”
“I, I’m trying not to,” his eyes jump between your face and your exposed pussy, then back to the page. “You should have some privacy.”
“Don’t want it,” you say quickly, fingers moving slowly in and out as he gives you a bit more attention, “want you to see this.”
“I wanna see it too,” he says quietly, “it’s so beautiful.”
“Then look at me,” your fingers move quicker now, your palm resting against your clit and applying just the right amount of pressure, “watch me fuck myself.”
“Fuck,” Hyunjin all but moans, head falling backwards before he quickly zeros in on your cunt.
You let your eyes scan down to his crotch, see the bulge he’s so clearly been trying to hide.
“Come here,” you ask him, patting the space next to you, “want you to really see me.”
Hyunjin almost flips the table over and runs to you, but instead he just trips over one of the legs, letting all the pencils fall again, before he’s climbing onto the bed.
He settles right in front of you, his knee touching your ankle, and lets himself fully gape at the sight in front of him.
“I looked through a lot of portraits you know,” he starts softly, his voice lower than usual, “and I think your pussy is the prettiest one.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the artist,” you smirk at him, mostly to try and hide how much you like him complimenting you.
“Not my sketch,” he’s quick to correct you, “the one here.”
As he says it, he brings his big hand on top of yours, pushing against your hand until your fingers go as deep as they can.
You moan loudly at that, jaw hanging open.
“That’s what you wanted, deep,” he confirmed to himself, looking at your knuckles disappearing into you. “Looks so nice like this, too.”
He grabs your wrist, lifting and pushing your hand in an impossible pace. Your fingers are sore from it after only a few seconds, but Hyunjin’s beautiful face is looking right at you and so you don’t do anything but moan.
“So pretty like this, too,” he says, slightly strained.
You grip his bicep, needing something to ground you as the pleasure starts building and building. It’s much more solid than he lets on, his arms big and strong and his grip on your hand tightening as your whines grow higher and higher until— “I’m gonna…”
“Want me to see it? Should I watch as you cum all over your fingers, pretty?”
And that’s all it takes for it to hit you at full force, your eyes shutting tightly as the pleasure takes over.
Hyunjin giggles at you, small dimples appearing by his cheeks as he averts his gaze away from you. He’s so beautiful even with his head turned away, looking for something.
He quickly finds it and grabs the tissues by your bed to hand you one. You quickly clean off your fingers as you giggle.
“Should you get back to drawing now?” You ask, breathless.
“Yes,” he nods, getting up with a very obvious tent in his pants. He adjusts himself as discreetly as he can, but a sense of pride takes over you knowing you’ve made him hard in the first place.
He gathers the pencils off the floor.
“Next I think I wanna draw your face when you cum, it’s really fucking gorgeous,” he says offhanded as he sketched out the outline of your cunt.
“I’ll have to cum again, no?” You mumble.
“That can be arranged,” he doesn’t even look up.
Your breathe catches in your throat.
#hwang hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x you#hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin smut#hyunjin smut#skz smut#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x reader#hwang hyunjin fic#hyunjin x y/n#hwang hyunjin x you#stray kids smut#kinktober#kpop x reader#kpop smut#kpop imagines#stray kids kinktober#kinktober23#all.works
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Whiplash (2)
Pairing: Felix x Reader x Hyunjin
Genre: Street Racing, Gang, Friends to Lovers
Word Count: 4k
Taglist: @sheala--marie @kayleefriedchicken @chartrucewhore @cookiesnmilfx
Part One |
“I'm never drinking again.” You groan, rubbing your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you try to sooth your throbbing head. The only thing you remembered about last night was dancing with that guy and then everything goes blank. You take a deep breath in and out before your eyes shoot open. You sniff harder, smelling something delicious, wondering who was in your apartment. And then it hit you, you weren't even home. You looked around, recognizing Hyunjin's room immediately. You crawl out of his bed, your feet shuffling out the door and down the hallway, towards the delicious smell. As you get closer you can hear Felix and Hyunjin talking.
“Food always gets her up. Just wait.” Felix laughed. He knew you so well.
“This smells so good.” You groan, sitting down at the island as you watch the two make pancakes, bacon and eggs.
“I told you.” Felix says, glancing at Hyunjin.
“Good morning.” Hyunjin says, smiling at you as he slides a plate in front of you.
“Morning.” You smile, picking up your fork, ready to dig in. But you couldn't. You looked up at the two men, who were staring at you smirking.
“Do I have something on my face?” you ask, wiping your face off. Neither of them reply, they just keep cooking, glancing at you and smirking.
You take a few bites of your food, trying to ignore those two but flashes of last night keep playing in your head.
“Did I.. “ you pause. “Did I do something last night?” You ask.
Hyunjin and Felix look at each other and then back at you. “Okay, what!?” You yell.
“Maybe I need to get off too.. cause of you two!” Felix says, his voice deep, his eyes on you.
“The things I wanna do to the two of you are not platonic.” Hyunjin says.
Your fork drops as you gasp. Your hands cover your mouth as you stare at them both, your eyes wide. The memories come flooding back to you like a tidal wave and you want to actually fucking die.
“That.. I, um. Wow. Okay so I was drunk. Like really drunk. My sincerest apologies. I'm gonna go.” You mumble. You slip out of the chair quicker than you realized, slipping on your shoes and grabbing your purse and heading out the door. You could not believe you had said all that. you were gonna be embarrassed for the rest of your life. Once you had walked a couple blocks you called a cab so you could properly grieve and call Seulgi so she could talk you off the ledge.
“You said what!?” She gasps.
“Yeah.. drunk me has no sense of boundaries apparently.” You sigh.
“So what are you gonna do?” She asks.
“I'm going to handle it like a mature adult.” You declare. “And pretend it never happened.” You can hear Selgui sigh on the other end of the phone.
Once you're home, you collapse in your bed, closing your eyes while your brain replays the things you said to Hyunjin and Felix the night before. Drunk you really liked to speak your sober thoughts apparently. As embarrassed as you were, you were feeling more anxious than anything. Based on their reactions this morning you knew your friendship wasn't ruined with them, but you couldn't help but feel guilty for saying those things. What if you had made them uncomfortable? What if they started distancing themselves from you? You were a ball of stress and you weren't sure how, or if you could make things better.
You spent the rest of the day in bed, ignoring any phone call and text that made your phone ring. You just wanted to wallow in your self pity for a little bit longer before facing anyone. Part of you knew it wasn't a very big deal, but the other part was mad because you had done so well to keep yourself in a platonic place with them. Finally a few hours later, and after you couldn't stand listening to the beeps and ringing of your phone anymore, you looked at it. All the messages from Felix and Hyunjin, not to mention the phone calls from them as well as from Chan, Changbin and Han begging you to come over for homemade pizza night. you decided to text Han back, letting him know that you'll be right there. You didn't wait for a reply, not that you needed to, but you got dressed and headed over to face the music.
Walking into the house, it's unusually quiet. Where were those rowdy boys? All you could hear was the low humming that was coming from the kitchen. You followed the sound, finding Felix in the kitchen, rolling out dough.
“Hey.” You smile, sitting at the island that you left in a rush only a few hours before.
“Hey you.” He grins, looking up for a second before focusing back on his dough. “The others had to run out for a bit, but we'll let the dough rise and then make the pizzas.” He tells you. You nod your head, feeling too nervous to say anything.
“Can I get you a cocktail?” He asks.
“Oh god, please.” You smile. You knew you shouldn't, but what more could you say to him? Felix quickly whips you up something delicious and you drink it far too quickly.
“Good thing I made extra.” He chuckles, filling your cup again. This time you sip on it as he works on more dough. “What's up? Why do you seem all weird?” He asks.
“What?” You question. You were acting weird, you were quiet and distant.
“Is it because of last night?” He asks, not looking up at you.
“Yeah.” You sigh. “I don't want things to be weird with the three of us.”
“Why would things be weird?” He asks, now looking at you.
“Because of what.. I, you know, said.” You mutter. Felix laughs.
“Maybe I want you to use me non platonically.” He smirks, looking up at you.
Your stomach drops. You stare at him, your mouth hanging open. “I'm.. what?” You ask. But before Felix can reply, you both hear the front door open. You turn your head to look at the entryway, and in walks Hyunjin with a smile plastered on his face.
“There's my girl.” He says, grabbing your chin. “What's going on?” He asks, looking between your shocked face and Felix.
“I think I'm dreaming.” You say, turning back to look at Felix who continues to smirk at you. You pinch your cheek, just to see, but you're not. This is real life.
“Pizza!” You can hear Changbin yell, as the rest of the boys come into the kitchen. They all hug you before standing around the island, Felix giving everyone their dough, and placing all the topping options, cheese and sauce in the middle. The rest of the night you could barely focus, Felix's words replaying in your head.
“Maybe I want you to use me non platonically.”
Was he interested in you? Was he joking? You wanted to ask him, but you didn't want to do it in front of everyone, so you left it. Later that night, as you were trying to sleep in your bed, you fell asleep to the thought of using him non platonically.
Over the next few days, you didn't see much of anyone. They said they had a lot of things going on, and you didn't question it. Sometimes they were very suspicious but you figured they were just being guys. With nothing to do, you made plans with Seulgi and a few other friends for a girls night. But of course, the night that you had plans was the night that the guys wanted to do something.
“How?” You laugh at one of the girls. “How do you manage to score four dudes in one singular night?” You ask. “I can barely get one.”
Everyone at the table laughs at your comment to Lisa. This is what you needed, a fun night out with some girls, and a guy named Mike who had tagged along. It was a good way to get your mind off of things. You took a shot from one of the bottles on the table, beginning to feel tipsy as you eat a little bit of food. You look at Seulgi who is looking at you with a weird look on her face.
“What?” You ask. Her eyes dart over to the left, you look over and see Felix and Hyunjin sitting at a table with two girls you didn't recognize. Your heart sank as you stared at the girls smiling while they're talking. You glance over at the boys, but they don't look like they're enjoying themselves as much as the girls are.
They must have felt your stare, or maybe you stared for too long, but they looked over, directly at you, and seemed shocked to see you. You gave them a slight smile and wave before turning back to your other friends. You tried to ignore them, but you could feel their eyes burning into the side of your head as you spoke, your group drunkenly trying to figure out what to do after dinner.
“Do you guys wanna go to the club?” Mike asks, looking at you. You shrug your shoulders. “I wouldn't say no to dancing there.” You smile, glancing at Felix and Hyunjin, who are now walking over to you.
“Are you guys going to the club?” Hyunjin asks, looking at you. You nod your head, your heart beating quicker. They could do nothing and your heart flutters with butterflies in your stomach.
“We'll see you there.” Felix smiles, walking out of the restaurant with the two girls and Hyunjin. You shake your head, trying to get the thought of them out of your head.
The moment you get to the club, you, Seulgi and Mike head straight for the bar. The three of you take a few shots before heading out to the dance floor, leaving Mike to sit there. You always loved dancing with girlfriends, because you never had to worry about unwanted touching. The two of you danced by yourself for a bit, until Mike decided to join you, and for some reason he had decided he wanted to dance with you. His hands grabbed your hips to pull you in close to him, but you really didn't want to. Seugli had disappeared on you, leaving you to fight him off on your own. He turns you around to face him, his hands roaming your body. You push him away, but he grabs your wrist, holding it tightly.
“I just wanna dance with you.” Mike grits through his teeth. You can see the anger bubbling up through his body.
“I don't want to dance with you. I'm sorry.” You say, trying to free your wrist from his grip.
“One dance. That's all I want. You can't tease me and then not give me what I want.” He scoffs.
“Excuse me?” You yell, pulling your wrist from his grip. “I never fucking teased you. I said no, so fucking listen.” You turn to walk away from him but he grabs you again, holding you even tighter, trying to pull you off the dance floor. You fight him with all you had but he just holds on tighter, pulling you away. Until you halt, you look up and see Hyunjin standing in front of Mike, he's angry. Your wrist is released, Felix now holding onto Mike's hand, twisting his wrist hard, causing Mike to fall to his knees.
“Don't you know what no means?” Felix asks, his voice scary as he glares at Mike. You turn and run to Hyunjin, he wraps his arms around you as he continues to stare at Mike. Felix leans down, whispering into Mike's ear. “You touch her again, I'll fucking kill you. Got it?”
Luckily you don't hear him as you nuzzle into Hyunjin's chest. Until you realize that they had dates, and they needed to get back to them. You felt guilty, it seemed like you were always getting into situations that they needed to save you from and that wasn't fair. You backed away from Hyunjin, looking sad and guilty.
“You guys have dates. They're probably looking for you.” You say, looking up at them both. “Thank you for helping me, and I'm sorry you have to keep saving me.” You whisper.
Felix and Hyunjin look at each other before looking back at you. “Don't apologize.” Hyunjin smiles.
“We'd go to war for you, baby.” Felix winks before he and Hyunjin leave to find the girls they were with. Finally Seulgi comes back, explaining she was waiting in the longest line for the bathroom.
“What happened!? Why are you crying?” She asks.
“Mike.” You sniffle. “He wanted to dance and I didn't. He got really aggressive.” Seulgi looks guilty as she listens to you.
“I'm so sorry.” She whispers, pulling you in for a hug.
“Luckily Hyunjin and Felix saved me.” You chuckle. “I don't know where Mike went off too.”
“Fuck Mike, he's banned from the group now.” She says. “Where did Felix and Hyunjin go?” She asks.
“I sent them back with their dates.” You say. She nods her head.
“What do you wanna do?” She asks. “Stay or go?”
“I'm gonna go. But you stay. Honestly, I just need some air. I'm gonna walk home. I promise I'll be fine. I'll call you when I'm home.” You say, giving a slight smile. She hugs you tightly, and watches you walk out of the club.
You really didn't want to call a cab but you did. You weren't dumb, you knew something bad could happen if you walked. You didn't want to bother any of the boys. You stood outside the club, waiting for your cab and you were annoyed, you felt like you only attracted men who didn't have good intentions and you didn't know why. You just wanted someone.. maybe two men who loved you with everything they had, like you felt for them. Honestly you just wanted Hyunjin and Felix and you didn't know how much longer you could fight off these feelings. It felt like they were bubbling up to your chest now and it was only a matter of them before they made your head explode.
You paid your fare and headed inside your apartment. You turned on your shower to the hottest that you could handle to scrub off the feeling of Mike's hands on your body. You couldn't help thinking about what could have happened to you had Felix and Hyunjin not been there for you. As you finish in the shower, you come out and check your phone seeing an email you'd been waiting for. A few weeks ago you had interviewed for a receptionist job at an elite law office. You nervously opened the email, screaming and dropping your phone in excitement as you jumped around your room. You got the job and you were so happy to not be living off of your savings anymore. You pick up your phone, reading the rest of the email, seeing you still had a few days before you were starting, you were so happy you completely forgot about what had happened that night. You fell asleep quickly, feeling like everything was going to be okay.
The next morning you woke up, in a great mood and ready for the day. You looked at your phone, seeing a message from Felix.
[9:58am From Felix] Morning, Can I take you to lunch today? I need to talk to you.
A knot immediately formed in your stomach. This was going to be bad. He's going to end the friendship or something. He was probably tired of you and your shit. You didn't want to go, but you needed to know. Your anxiety wouldn't let you not know and you wouldn't be able to function.
[10:09am To Felix] That doesn't sound good. Let me know when and where.
[10:11am From Felix] Same restaurant as last night. Meet you there at 11:30am]
You don't reply. You can't. You can feel the lump in your throat getting bigger. You tried your best to get ready, to make yourself look decent but you were on the verge of tears and you couldn't control it. The thought of losing one of your best friends was devastating.
You sit at the table, your fingers interlaced as you wait for Felix. Your head is down as you try to breathe through the anxiety. You hear the door open, your head shoots up and you see Felix and Hyunjin walk in. There are no smiles, no happy greetings and you knew this was going to be bad. The two men sit down, across from you, staring at you.
“Did you order?” Felix asks, looking at the menu.
“I can't eat right now.” You whisper. Fuck. Your tears were going to start spilling right away.
“Neither can I.” He sighs, closing the menu. “Look, the reason I asked you to lunch and that Hyunjin joined too is that we really need to talk to you about something.” He says.
The tears fall as you look at them. They're now staring at you confused.
“Why are you crying?” Hyunjin asks, reaching over to wipe your tears.
“I don't want to lose you guys.” You cry. They look at each other before looking back at you.
“Why are you losing us?” Felix asks.
“Isn't that what this is? You're ending the friendship?” You ask.
Felix laughs. “I guess in a sense.” He says. He reaches over and grabs your hands. “This isn't about ending anything. More so taking it to the next level.”
You stare at him. “next level? Like ultimate best friends?’ you ask.
They both laugh, and then stone faces as they take a deep breath. “I'm falling in love with you.” Felix admits.
“What?” You whisper.
“And I'm falling in love with you.” Hyunjin admits. “And we don't know what to do.”
“We don't want to ruin things if you don't feel the same but neither of us could hold it in any longer.” Felix says.
Suddenly the tears flow, you take your hands back to cover your face as you sob. Neither of them say a word as you cry. Until Felix's phone rings.
“Yeah Chan?” He answers. “Fuck. Now? Shit okay, we're on our way.” He says. He looks at Hyunjin who immediately knows what's going on.
“We gotta go. But we're having a party tonight. Please come and we can talk.” Felix tells you as they both stand up and walk out the door.
You're in shock. That's not at all how you thought that conversation was going to go.
They are both falling in love with you. And you're already in love with them both. What do you do? Do you choose one and leave one heartbroken, while also leaving yourself heartbroken. Did you date both? Could you date both? Would they be okay with that? You stand up and head home, your mind swirling with thoughts on what to do. You couldn't believe it.
Later that night you got yourself ready for the party, you were very confident on what you were going to do. And you hoped they didn't ask you to choose because you wouldn't be able to. You wanted to give dating both of them both a try. If the three of you put in the effort, you were sure that you guys could do it.
You walk through the door of the party, seeing the house was filled with people. Changbin and Han run up to you, engulfing you in hugs before Han demands another beer chugging rematch.
“We will, later.” You laugh. “Do you know where Felix and Hyunjin are?” You ask.
“I think in the kitchen.” He tells you, going over to say hi to someone else. You make your way to the kitchen, seeing Felix standing there talking to someone. You take a deep breath, and head straight for him. He smiles as he sees you walk up to him. You press up against his chest, sliding your hand on the back of his head, pulling his head down closer to you. He stares into your eyes as you move your face closer and closer, until your lips touch his. As soon as your lips touch, he takes control. He spins you around, pinning you against the fridge as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.
Felix breaks the kiss, stepping away from you with a grin on his face. You look past him seeing Hyunjin standing there. You motion him to come to you with your finger. He walks towards you, and you move past Felix, grabbing onto Hyunjin's collar and pulling him down. His lips touch yours and he quickly slides his tongue into your mouth, hardening the kiss.
He pulls away from you, grinning at you and Felix. You guide Hyunjin to stand next to Felix and you clear your throat as you look at both of them.
“I can't choose, and I won't choose. I'm falling hard for you both and I want you both. If you're okay with that then I'm all in, but if you're not then it won't work.” You tell them.
“I'm in.” Hyunjin smiles.
“I'm all in.” Felix says. You were so fucking happy in this moment. You kissed them both before grabbing some celebratory shots. The three of you take a few shots before you drag them both to the living room to dance. You feel as though you're in heaven, grinding your ass into Felix and Hyunjin grinds in front of you. Your happiness is short lived, as the front door busts open and in walks eight men, one of which you recognize. The music shuts off as Chan, Changbin, Jeogin, Minho, Han, Felix and Hyunjin stand in front of the intruders.
“What the hell are you doing here Hongjoong?” Chan yells. The man just laughs.
“What? You thought you could start doing illegal mods on cars and I wouldn't fucking find out?” He yells.
What was going on?
“Is business slow?” Chan asks. “Maybe if you were better at your job, you wouldn't lose so many clients.” He says, fake pouting. Hongjoong turns red as anger consumes him.
“Me and you. A race now, the winner keeps doing mods, and the loser closes up shop.” He yells. Everyone begins cheering but you feel confused. You'd heard about street racing, but you had no idea that they were involved in it. You look at Felix and Hyunjin, who look guilty.
“Y/N.” You hear from across the room. You look over and a familiar man walks over to you. You squint your eyes as he comes closer, and then it hits you. It was San. You had a mini fling with him years ago and ended on good terms and as friends.
“San! Oh my god.” You laugh, running up to him, wrapping your arms around him. “So good to see you.” You laugh, letting go of the large man. Hyunjin and Felix are on each side of you, glaring at their enemy.
“Get your hands off of her.” Felix snaps, pulling you back, and closer to him.
“We used to hook up.” San winks. You roll your eyes.
“If you can even call it that.” You laugh.
“It was good to see you, Y/N.” He says, winking at you before walking towards his group. You turn to Hyunjin and Felix, a stern look on your face.
“Street racing?” You gasp.
“Y/N.. listen.” Hyunjin starts.
“How long?” You ask. “How long have you guys been doing this shit and why didn't you tell me?”
“Since before we met.” Felix says. “It's not that we didn't want to tell you.”
“We just wanted to protect you.” Hyunjin says. “We're involved with a lot of dangerous people. We just want to keep you safe.”
“Hyunjin, Felix. Let's go.” Chan yells. The crowd disperses, heading out to wherever the race is going to be.
“Go to one of our rooms.” Felix says. “We'll be back in a bit.”
You scoff at the handsome man. “Absolutely not.” You deadpan.
“I'm coming with you.”
#lee felix#hwang hyunjin#stray kids#felix smut#hyunjin smut#stray kids smut#kpop fanfic#kpop writing#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz smut#skz fanfic#skz
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Visions of You in Solitude
Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.
Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader
W/c: 26.5k
Warnings: erotic painting, mentions of masturbation, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), breast/nipple play, dry humping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), cum eating, use of pet names, drinking
Synopsis: You were hired to paint him- not fall for him. But intentions quickly shift when Hyunjin finds himself infatuated with you and learns the secrets you harbor.
18+. Mdni!
•
There’s something to be said about the loneliness that comes with being an artist. The repetitive cycle of translating tangibility to canvas or paper in whichever chosen medium. Fleeting muses you draw inspiration from, which quickly become burdensome as you’re faced with them every waking second of your day. Obsession with perfecting your craft, the anxieties that come with criticism of your life’s work and sometimes even succumbing to changing it entirely at the hands of someone else’s advice.
It’s very seldom even your craft at a certain point, only existing to satisfy the visual demands of others and turn a profit when displayed at a show. And it’s certainly not for everyone, not when it’s this lonely and rooted in the discomfort of personal solitude.
*
From this proximity, the blinding white walls that span the perimeter of the waiting room feel like that of a prison’s- coupled with the glossy laminate flooring and glaring white lights, you feel completely entrapped.
“They’re almost ready for you,” your boss says abruptly as he enters the room and occupies the gray folding chair next to you. “You have everything you need?”
Headcount- your black leather briefcase of oil paints, brushes, charcoal, pencils, paint thinner, old rags and your painting palette.
“The canvas is already set up,” your boss chimes in as if he can read your mind. “And there’s a seat for you. Just relax, and don’t push yourself.”
You take a deep breath, doing your best to follow his advice- but a part of you wants to get up and leave, to run away from all of this. Painting is your passion, it’s your forte and it’s been your life’s work for as long as you can remember. But being commissioned like this, for men much richer than money you’ll ever see, it feels suffocating.
They don’t tell you their names these days, nor the name of whatever organization they’re from. Last month it was an elite group of stock investors, the month before, it was a famous violinist from Japan. And today, it’s a male group, eight members with net worths that look like telephone numbers, or so you’ve been told. And it’s not that you’re intimidated, but you do get self-conscious at the prospect of people watching you while you paint. At some point, it’s like you become the model, their eyes boring into your flesh as you paint long strokes across the canvas and order them to hold still.
“Five minutes,” your boss now says, checking the time on his silver watch and adjusting it so that it sits a little higher up on his wrist.
You wish he wouldn’t count the minutes. You wish he’d stay quiet, allow you to sit with your thoughts and ruminate the day ahead of you. And yet he taps his heel in syncopation with the second hand on the clock above you, the echoing click of both driving you up the wall.
“I need a breather,” you state suddenly, sitting up from your chair and smoothing down your smock. “I need to go outside.”
“Three minutes,” he responds sterly, tapping at the glass lens of his watch and motioning to the door.
You shove your way past the double doors, past the white tiled hallway and just in front of the double doors that lead to freedom again. Two minutes.
It’s like your body is giving out on you involuntarily, your knees buckling as you grip the stair railing and steady your breathing. A quick glance around to ensure no one’s caught you heaving so nervously- and you’re too late. A man saunters down the hallway past you, his hands shoved casually in his pockets as he cocks his head to stare at you, his long black hair falling loosely around his shoulders as he does. He’s tall, and slim, with an elongated torso hugged by an expensive denim coat, his slender legs on display in black slacks and complemented by a sharp pair of boots. You don’t catch a very good look at his face, his figure blurring by as you check your watch, to the second now- you’re supposed to be inside.
You waste no more time jogging down the hallway past the figure and back into the waiting room, where your boss is angrily tapping his heel and scanning the room for you.
“There you are,” he says frustratedly. “No more breaks if you can’t manage your time. They’re waiting for us.”
And with a deep breath, he helps you gather your art supplies, motioning in front of you to the brightly lit room. You take one breath, and then two, as you finally begin into the painting room, eight men already seated and ready for you.
*
The crowd is nothing like the stock investors, or the violinists you’re used to. They’re rowdy, and loud. They very seldom sit still, cracking jokes amongst themselves and shoving each other off the wooden stools every other minute. You do your best to keep your gaze away from them when you don’t need to look at them, trying to memorize their features in intervals so you can focus on just the canvas in front of you as you paint. But it’s nearly impossible, their melodic voices pressing you for answers and insights into your artist career.
“What’s the hardest painting you’ve ever done?” One asks, his baritone voice sounding almost startling in contrast to his bright appearance.
“There’s lots,” you reply quietly. “I’m not sure I can pick one.”
You give him a small smile, trying to memorize the freckles on his face before turning back to the canvas, hoping you won’t have to glance back over at him for the next minute or so.
“Let’s take five,” your boss says as he enters the room again, two iced coffees balanced in his hands. “Thanks, guys.”
And the men scatter to their break room, where neat trays of food are already set out for them to choose from. As the doors swing closed behind them, you watch them select from a variety of pre-cooked noodles, assorted fruits and vegetables, packs of chips and trays upon trays of desserts. They’re fed as though they’re the ones doing all the painting.
“Coffee,” Q says, setting down a plastic cup in front of you, the straw already conveniently placed for you.
“Thanks, Quinton.”
Your boss, Quinton, or Q, is a brutally honest man when he wants to be, quick to comment on your work and keep you in your place. He runs your calendar like the military, never missing an important appointment and opting you in for every profitable painting session possible. He’s another thing you find suffocating at the worst of times, always somewhere breathing commands down your neck and dragging you to every private event under the sun.
“Let me see,” Q states plainly, gesturing to the canvas with his cup of coffee. You shyly angle the canvas toward him, hoping he won’t scrutinize anything about your pacing- you’re trying to get out of here as quickly as possible, and you silently pray the art doesn’t reflect that sentiment.
But to your surprise, he doesn’t, swiping a few stray eraser shavings off the canvas and giving you a nod.
“Looks good. Remember, we just need the skin tones and facial features. The clothes and all that can be filled in later with our reference pictures.”
You nod in response, taking a generous sip of your coffee, realizing this is probably the worst beverage you could’ve picked to calm your nerves. The caffeine pulsates through you, making your heart flutter even more than it already is, and the bitter taste leaves little to salivate over.
“How much longer, do you think?” You inquire, chewing on the tip of your straw nervously.
“No more than an hour, if you keep up this pace,” Q responds. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, have everything ready again for when I get back. Don’t make me wait.”
You watch as he gets up from his own wooden stool, placing his cup of coffee where he sits, and exits the room to the corridor once again.
You’re alone in the painting room, the white sheets that line the floors staring back at you with little eyes in the form of paint splotches. From behind the door, you can still hear the eight men shuffling about, laughing loudly and downing their snacks. And you want to leave again, the feeling instilling another sense of foreignness inside of you. Like you don’t belong here, even though you’re the painter. You feel small, cramped, even useless, as you stare down the painted flesh outlines across from you.
A click of the door closing beside you garners your attention, and you look up expecting Q to return and resume the session. But it’s not Q- it’s the same figure from earlier in the hallway, slowly making his way inside and hoisting himself back up on the wooden stool. He keeps his head down as he gets comfortable again, two hands running through his black hair and slicking it back out of his forehead.
And then he looks at you- or stares, rather, two hands resting on the exposed wood in front of him as his legs balance on the wooden beams below. You can feel his eyes burning into your figure, and you do everything in your power to avert his gaze and keep your eyes locked on the canvas in front of you. But he remains like that, staring, for several minutes, until you nervously tilt your head to catch his gaze.
You feel your heart race as you do, catching a glimpse of his flawless features as he furrows his brows in concentration. His silky black hair isn’t the only striking thing about him- he has piercing brown eyes, which narrow with such intensity as he remains seated there, unmoving and confident in his stance. His plump lips contrast beautifully against his chiseled jawline, and his lanky figure makes him look like the contemporary art statues you’re so acquainted with, like he’s formed from wire and positioned to slouch so artistically in his spot.
You say nothing to the man, opting to give him a little nod, before focusing back on the beverage in your hands. And despite his clear fascination with you, he doesn’t reciprocate, instead pulling a cell phone out of his back pocket and preoccupying himself again.
You can’t quite tell if he’s rude, or strange, or even just unaware that his presence is so uncomfortable when he’s choosing to speak through cold stares instead of words. As you watch him through your peripheral vision, you hear the familiar sound of Q’s boots click through the doorway, gesturing rapidly at you and at the canvas.
“Let’s continue,” he orders, clasping his hands together with such purpose. “Where are they?” Q then questions, his eyes darting over the quiet man’s indifferent posture. And the strange man finally gets up from his stool, making his way through the break room door to usher the others inside once again.
They follow like a row of ducks, back to their respective seats, some of them with drinks in hand as they share whispered laughter amongst themselves and make little effort to sit still. You have no trouble picking up right where you left off, the innate talent to mirror figures in front of you coming in handy as you race the clock to complete their flesh-colored outlines.
Most of them converse lightly amongst each other, holding your gaze with a more serious expression when they catch you looking over at them.
Except for the strange man.
He’s relentless in his ways, continuing to stare so impolitely at you, his eyes piercing daggers right through your soul as he cocks his head to the left, and then the right, studying your face as you study all eight of theirs. What his intentions are exactly, you have no clue, simply opting to avert his gaze when you can and keep busy with your painting.
One hour later, the canvas illustrates all eight outlines of flesh and distinctive features, highlighting the beige freckles on one man’s, the toned biceps of another, and all other features that set them apart from each other. True to Q’s reminder, their clothes are traced in outlines, but color is void of their stencils, as you still have to bring the canvas home to complete the finishing touches. When they’re dismissed for the day, the gentlemen are all led by a sculpted man with a big smile who introduces himself as the leader, orchestrating the bows and applause that are held for you.
And as he ushers them out one by one, the strange man who’s been watching you all day is the last to leave, lingering a little bit too long with his hands shoved in his pockets like he wants to say something. He loiters by the canvas for several minutes, but you make no move to angle the painting at him, usually maintaining a certain extent of confidentiality in your work to keep the surprise.
He seems to take the hint, almost nodding indirectly at you and more toward the wall, as he finally saunters out of the room with his hands still in his pockets, his strides painfully slow as he disappears from your sight.
And when you look back to the painting, you cock your head at his outline, trying to gauge whether your art properly captures the sheer sense of unnerve he instills in you with his features alone.
*
Painting sessions are burdensome. They require a lot of planning ahead of time, stocking up on supplies, scheduling around the hours-long timeframe and of course, the mental preparation of having to be stared at by rich men for several hours.
But perhaps critique sessions are even worse these days.
Your paintings are typically set in stone after the initial outlines, considering there are usually a few important figures who review your work and give you the go ahead to take it home and finish it.
Yet sometimes, you still have people complaining, pointing out unimportant features like the color of their sneakers which aren’t to their liking. It’s normally Q who fights these battles for you, refusing to allow you to make any changes since the payments are made upfront, too. But sometimes, even he caves, ordering you to pull out your briefcase and mix a darker shade of green or add more volume to the subject’s hair.
It’s the worst with investors, who put their audacity at the same level as their incomes. But with boy groups like this, you’re unsure, having never done a painting for a band prior to this one.
The finished canvas is transported in a nylon zip-up bag, held by yourself and Q as you fit it inside the truck and secure it with metal prongs. While the drive there is just an hour long, it feels much longer than the last time you traveled there, perhaps because you’re much more nervous.
And perhaps also, it’s because of the same strange man as last time, who you already know is going to have a mouthful to say. The way he lingered by your work station a little too long, wouldn’t stop staring and even excused himself from his own break early to resume his insufferable task of making you uncomfortable. You reckon it’ll be a comment about his hair, asking for a longer length or more volume. Maybe something about the stage outfit you were presented with and how it doesn’t make his legs look long enough. Or knowing his douchebag tendencies, maybe he won’t hesitate to ask for a fucking bulge in his pants at this point.
When you arrive, Q calls over the building staff to help transport the collosal work of art, while you wait awkwardly on the side with your hands shoved in your pockets. You take a moment to crane your neck and look up at the building, a tall glass monument with blue-tinted windows and cobalt text that displays the company name. It’s just as intimidating as you remembered it, instilling the same unnerving feeling that a hospital might.
When the building staff are finally making their way inside, you follow reluctantly, making yourself as small as possible behind them while they navigate the long blinding corridors. It’s an unusual feeling to be at the top floor of the building that you were just looking up at from the street below, and as you pass the windows that line the hallways, you can make out the rows of cars and people that now resemble ants from this high up. It’s as though you were never down there to begin with, like the world is different from up here, much more secluded and shut-in.
And seeing the pin boards that line the walls, with photos of successful artists and flyers for company events, it very well might be, this haunting building where dreams either go to flourish or decay.
Into the last door on the right, eight chairs lined up for eight artists who definitely seem to have flourished. The building staff set up the canvas at the front of the room, securing it into its wooden easel, and Q occupies himself setting up a recording camera which points directly at the painting and captures all eight chairs in the frame. It’s common protocol for events like these to be filmed, not always for public consumption, but for the staff to archive important commemorative moments in the artist’s name. Once the camera is rolling, Q gives you a thumbs up, gesturing to the staff to permit their exit as you make your way to the front with him.
“Ready?” He asks, clasping his hands together as he eyes the camera nervously. You say nothing in response, giving him a small nod, before taking your spot on the other side of the canvas and folding your hands behind your back.
For a few moments of complete silence, the two of you keep your gazes fixed on the clock that lives on the wall across you, the hands ticking with the passing seconds as you await the arrival of the band. Q turns to say something, seemingly disregarding it as he turns back to the wall and shifts his eyes to the door every few moments.
You wish he wouldn’t be so… anticipatory. You wish he’d just stand there, like a rock, indicating nothing of importance, so that you could put less weight into this and unveil the painting to them without any reservations.
Here’s the painting, you want to say. It took me forever, so don’t criticize it. You guys are shorter than my usual subjects. Except for the weirdo- and he stares too much.
You smile to yourself at the thought of being so candid with them, before an abrupt push of the door startles you, and you instantly straighten your posture at the sounds of boots clicking along the floor, leading the eight men who live on the canvas behind you.
One by one they take their seats, dressed to the nines this time in black slacks and collared button ups. They even flaunt ties, mirroring the businessmen you’re used to painting, and the fancy attire quickly makes you nervous as they fold their hands in their laps and fail to joke around like they did the last time.
“Welcome,” a booming voice says, as other important looking figures stand around the room and eye the covered canvas. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, and we’re eager to see what you’ve come up with.”
Applause fills the room, inclusive of the members of the band, which you finally allow yourself to look at. They sit properly, hands folded in their laps and serious expressions painted on their chiseled faces.
Except for the strange one, again, whose gaze is locked on yours. He cocks an eyebrow curiously, as though you’re the one doing the staring. And you quickly turn your attention back to Q, hoping that disregarding the men will calm your nerves a little.
“… she’s paid particular attention to detail,” Q continues, and you realize you’ve missed half his speech already.
“And we are so excited to hang her work in this renowned building as a commemorative piece for the members. Without further ado, please let’s unveil the artwork.”
As he finishes, two members of the staff tug on the beige cloth, letting it fall to the tiled floor beneath it and expose the giant portrait.
Their faces light up instantly, little “woah’s” filling the room as they rise from their seats to take a better look. They laugh at their own figures, they point out each other's and most of them even pull out their cellphones to snap photos of your art. It’s always a gratifying feeling, having a crowd admire the fruits of your labor this way, especially when you aren’t immediately met with verbal protest against your creative choices.
You take a few steps back to give some room to them, the staff talking amongst themselves and gesturing to the building where you presume they speak about where the painting will live.
“It’s a hit,” Q says, coming around to tap you lightly on the arm. “You should be very proud of yourself.”
“Thanks, Quinton,” you respond. “I’m glad everyone enjoys it.”
And the staff applaud you once more, bowing to you and lining up to shake your hand as they begin to file out of the room again.
The members stick around for a good while, unable to take their eyes off the painting as they point out each other's features and admire their own. And as they begin to leave, several of them thank you personally on the way out, giving you a bow and shaking your hand.
“Thank you, really,” the man you remember being the group leader says to you. “We are so honored to have worked on this with you.”
Another clasps your hand in his, bowing several times before speaking. “Seungmin,” he states his name politely. “Thank you, I think you really did our old group leader justice.”
“Hey!” The leader calls, and you can’t help but laugh a little in response.
The others share similar sentiments, bowing and shaking your hand as they exit, chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they make their way down the hall for their next schedule.
And when you turn to face Q, you’re met with the last member, who folds his arms in front of him coldly and eyes the painting with raised eyebrows.
Like clockwork. He doesn’t like it, he’s going to request a change be made to it and he’s going to berate you in front of your own boss.
“It’s nice,” he chimes in casually from where he’s standing.
“Thanks,” you reply, Q gathering the cover from the floor and zipping it up again.
“Just one thing,” he says now, turning to face you.
“Oh, we normally don’t make changes after-”
“I have a freckle under my eye,” he finishes. “The left eye. You didn’t catch it.”
Your eyes scan the painting, where his chiseled face and long hair stare back at you, a serious expression in his eyes like he wears in person. And then you glance at him standing in front of you again, a small brown mole under his left eye, just like he speaks of.
“Go ahead and add it,” Q says, as he zips up the cover. “That should be on there already.”
And you nod your head at both of them, unzipping your briefcase again to retrieve your paints. He’s watching you like a hawk again, towering over your bent figure as you pull out a thin tube of brown paint and squeeze just a miniscule dollop onto the back of your hand. You retrieve your thinnest paint brush, dipping it into the paint and swiping it across your skin to rid the excess from the fine hairs.
It feels as though you have to paint it with his permission, as you bring the brush to his face and glance over at him for instruction. He gestures to his eye, motioning for you to start, as you bring the brush to his canvas flesh and tap on a tiny, single dot.
He stares at it for a moment, cocking his head as though a brown dot somehow won’t be to his liking. And even Q holds his breath while he waits for a comment from the man. You begin to say something, your lips parting silently, stuck on what to remark as you await his feedback. And then with bated breath, he finally speaks, giving a small nod as he does.
“Good,” he says simply. “It’s me now.”
Q nods at him, nods at you, and then gathers your belongings as you cap the loose tube of paint.
“Do you have a card?” The man asks suddenly, and Q pauses his shuffling about to retrieve one from his coat pocket.
“Here’s her card,” he says, against your silent protests. “She’s available for commission any time. Payments are up front and scheduling is through me only.”
The man nods, thumbing the gold foil cardstock in his slender fingers, and then shoves it into the pocket of his slacks.
“Hyunjin,” he says curtly, reaching his hand out to yours. “I’m the main dancer.”
And you just nod, placing your hand in his reluctantly as you shake once.
“Y/n.”
His hands are cold to the touch, the metal of his rings feeling like blocks of ice in your grasp. He holds it there for a moment, his narrowed eyes shooting daggers into yours, before he finally pulls away and pivots to leave with the rest of the band.
And you can only catch a glimpse of the back of his head when he’s halfway out, before Q turns to speak to you.
“Looks like we may be back very soon,” he remarks, latching your briefcase once more. “I’d hold on to that brown paint if I were you.”
*
Exactly four days pass before you hear from Hyunjin again. In fact, you’ve all but forgotten about the little run-in, until Q barges into your studio while you add the finishing touches to another client’s piece.
“I have a proposal for you,” Q voices, setting an iced coffee on the table beside you while you dip your paintbrush in a muddy cup of water.
“What is it?”
“Well financially, a massive opportunity. Career-wise, much of the same thing you’re already doing.”
“Businessmen?” You question, working your paintbrush in thin strokes to add hair to the figure on the canvas.
“Band,” he replies simply. “The same band you did last week. Just one member, though.”
And you know instantly who he speaks of, your face contorting into an expression of disgust as you wash your paint in the cup of water once more.
“Hyunjin?” You query.
“That’s him,” he says, snapping his fingers as the name comes back to him. “He’s offering double what we paid last, and just for an individual piece. That’s a massive markup from what we usually charge.”
“I don’t know,” you reply hesitantly. “I’m pretty busy with this, and we-”
“I already said yes,” he states simply.
“You did? What- I thought this was a proposal.”
“Yeah,” he says with a scoff. “A proposal to get your stuff ready. We start tomorrow. And he wants you to bring every color you’ve got.”
“Tomorrow? Don’t we already have a prior commitment?”
“Already moved them out,” Q says, sitting on the chair across from you.
“Look,” he begins, sighing deeply. “I know you’re hesitant about these things. But this is the best move you can do, career-wise. Painting these famous figures is a gold mine for us. One day you could be commissioned to paint royalty, and then we’ll be reaping three times our salary.”
And you sigh, too, knowing very well that he’s right. Being a painter who gets commissioned to commemorate important characters, you know the best thing you can do for yourself is say yes to every opportunity. You’re very seldom able to, which is why you have Q in the first place. But the prospect of spending another day with Hyunjin scares you, and you’re not sure Q would consider it a legitimate concern if you brought it up to him.
“I’ll be there, too,” Q interrupts, almost as though he can read your mind. “It’s just him. One day, max, and then you can pick up your other projects.”
It doesn’t seem like there will be a way out of this one, no matter how much you pray that things will fall through eventually.
“One day,” you echo. “And then I’m tunnel vision on the rest of my projects.”
*
You can tell Hyunjin’s thought about this very carefully, judging by the way he saunters into the room with purposeful strides and slings a bag off his shoulder.
He’s dressed a little more casually today in a denim jacket and jeans, with layered silver jewelry that contrasts nicely against his jet black hair.
“Like a model headshot, but painted,” he describes his vision to you, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.
“I want it to look really serious. And maybe a cool-toned color palette.”
He’s meticulous with his requests, and you wonder briefly if he dabbles in art, himself.
“Sure, we can do that,” Q responds, jotting down a few points in a small notepad.
You say nothing, letting Q do all the talking, but Hyunjin’s eyes glance over at you briefly like he wants you to acknowledge the request. So you just nod graciously, giving him a thin-lipped smile, and begin to undo your briefcase.
Hyunjin assumes his same spot on one of the wooden stools, dragging it closer to you by its leg and propping it within eye-view of your big canvas. And then he sits on it, or rather slouches, adjusting his gaze to look straight at you and maintain a cold, serious expression.
It’s just as unnerving as you’d remembered it, having this model-looking figure pierce daggers through your soul while you mix your paints- cool-toned ones, at his request, and prepare for the hour-long trek of capturing his essence.
At least you won’t have to talk to him- or so you’d assumed from the last session you completed with him.
“What’s your process like?” He asks, his sultry voice perfectly matching his features.
“Oh,” you remark, mixing a set of paints to mirror his even skin tone. “I don’t know, I just paint what I see.”
He nods, satisfied with your less-than-wordy answer, and then he begins to prod you with more questions.
“What are your favorite art supplies?”
You cock an eyebrow at this, well aware that you have a long list you can indulge him in, but not wanting to share your secrets with this complete stranger.
“I dunno,” you reply softly. “Oil paints, and graphite pencils really.”
Hyunjin nods again, and then he glances at Q, who gives him a thin-lipped smile much like yours, trying his hardest to remain polite with Hyunjin. You know Q is likely frustrated with you for not entertaining this conversation in a more lively manner, especially considering what he paid for this session, but you’re not going to indulge him in anything except painting him- and only for this one session, like you promised Q.
And the rest of the session is uneventful, Hyunjin poking you with questions about your personal favorite paintings or inquiring about a time you messed up on an important piece. All questions which are answered with brief “I don’t know’s” or “there are so many, I can’t choose.”
And although you are trying hard to keep Hyunjin at a distance, nothing seems to faze him, his head nods and little hums serving as indicators of his satisfaction with all of your answers. He doesn’t get pushy, like your other clients often do, and he even presses Q for a few answers as he makes sense of your work.
At just past 5, the session draws to a close, as Hyunjin rises from his stool and announces he has to tend to his evening dance practice.
“It’s nice seeing you again,” Hyunjin says as he approaches you, giving a small bow as Q waits off to the side.
“Thank you,” you voice back, glancing at Q for a push to leave.
And Hyunjin extends a single hand, gesturing for you to place yours in his, as he towers over you with a curious expression.
You reluctantly place your palm in his, letting the cool metal of his rings graze your skin as he clasps his thumbs over your fingers and rubs them in gentle back and forth motions. He doesn’t bring it up for a cordial peck, he doesn’t shake it- he simply caresses your artist hands tenderly, before letting go again and turning to give Q a small bow as well.
“Take care,” Hyunjin says, pivoting to exit the room into the corridor.
And as Q pesters you with orders to clean up your workstation, you examine your own hands, rotating your own fingers around, like they might somehow be changed by his touch.
*
ON HOLD- The notes under your projects on the big calendar in Q’s office read, written in dark red pen and underlined twice across the pages.
You furrow your brows in confusion, setting your bag down as you enter for the day and ready your art supplies.
“What’s going on?” You ask Q, who’s busy sorting through a stack of invoices.
“Have a seat,” he replies plainly, gesturing to one of the leather chairs that accompany his grand wooden desk. And you do, sitting on the very edge of the chair as you await further instruction from him.
“A gift came for you,” Q says, slinging a large box on the desk in front of you.
You stand up once again, peering inside at the myriad of oil paints, sharpened charcoal pencils, new smocks, palettes and even books about artists and their works. You dig through the supplies, heart racing at the expensive choices, feeling undeserving of all the presents the box contains.
“This is all for me?” You question, baffled at the prospect that anybody could care enough about your career to indulge you in such a fine assortment of goods.
“Read the card,” Q then says, his arms folded in front of him as he nods toward the top of the cardboard box, where a simple yellow envelope is taped to the cover, cursive text scribbled on the front. Hyunjin, it reads.
You undo the seal, pulling out the small card inside, which only contains a short, cold sentence, in contrast to the warm gift.
“For the next few”, it says, not so much as a sign off or even a simple “thanks”.
“Next few?” You repeat, meeting Q’s gaze with a confused expression.
Q sighs, sitting across from you, folding his hands out on the wooden surface where you can see them.
“His manager called this morning,” he begins. “And commissioned us for another one. Except this one has a long set of rules. He wants you to use these supplies, he wants to visit your studio instead of occupy the company building. And he specifically asked me not to accompany you.”
“What?” You exclaim, angered at the sheer audacity he has, and knowing very well that you only agreed to one painting.
“That’s completely against our rules,” you continue. “Did you tell him no?”
And Q gives you a sheepish grin, gesturing to the stack of papers he flipped through earlier. “They’re offering quadruple the pay,” he says sternly. “He’s obsessed with your work.”
“So what?” You argue. “I have a ton of other projects to finish. And I’m not throwing all of that away because some guy wants time alone with the artist.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting alone time with an artist,” Q emphasizes.
“This is a huge sacrifice, Quinton. I wish you would’ve run this by me earlier.”
Your eyes meet the calendar above his desk again, counting the number of projects with a big ON HOLD scribbled below them. Q sighs, evidently feeling a little guilty for his own actions, and then pinches his wireframe glasses between his fingers, pulling them off his face and tucking them into the pocket of his blazer.
“I’m willing to give you 10% more than what you already make from these.”
Your gaze snaps to his, a bewildered expression on your face as you process his words.
“What- seriously? Quinton, that’s-”
“His company’s loaded” he says with a shrug. “The guy is so much bigger than I thought he was. People love him.”
And your gaze flickers between the calendar and the big red text, Quinton’s hopeful stare and at the box of new art supplies you’ll be required to work with.
Q doesn’t need to press you for verbal confirmation, knowing that the caress of your fingers over Hyunjin’s name on the envelope serves as answer enough.
*
Your studio is particularly messy on Wednesdays, housing all of the project paraphernalia from the days prior. Today is no exception, canvases that sit on easels lining the walls and cans of paint thinner spread out on the tarps. You make your best attempt at shoving everything against the wall, creating a clear pathway for Hyunjin to stride into the way he always does. And you set up your canvas prior to his arrival, getting all of your necessary supplies in place to avoid the awkward few moments of setting up while he watches you so intently.
He’s a punctual idol if you’ve ever met one, arriving at 5pm on the dot, expensive-looking sunglasses shielding his eyes from the barely visible sunlight outside, and a black beanie pulled over his head. He looks like he could be a security guard of his own, the all-black attire even more unsettling as he makes his way inside.
There’s a reason you never house clients in your own studio- the reason being it’s small. It’s office-sized, large glass windows on one side of the wall that overlook a sea of greenery that’s now overgrown with all the recent rains. The floor is gray concrete, stained just about everywhere with swatches of paint and charcoal pieces. And the two tabled surfaces that are available are covered in art supplies, the color of the furniture now indistinguishable as they house tubes of paint, brushes and cans of thinner.
“You can put your bag on the chair there,” you say as he walks in, his hands still shoved in his pockets.
He does as told, setting a designer crossbody on the folding chair by one of the tables, and then he stands confidently, observing the room as he awaits further instruction.
He takes long strides around the perimeter of the room, leaning closely into the existing canvases to study your techniques. But he says nothing, remaining much quieter than last time, the only sound coming from his heeled boots as he moves elegantly around the studio.
“I’m ready,” you say, and Hyunjin turns around to face you. He cocks his head slightly, and then he brings one hand up to pull the beanie off his head, letting his brown tresses fall loosely around his handsome face, not requiring much adjustment as they seem to fall in disarray so perfectly. He pulls his sunglasses off as well, folding them between his plump lips before tucking them into the pocket of his jeans as he finally stops to look at you.
He looks as handsome as he always does, his unreal features looking as though he was modeled by a painting and not the other way around. You feel small in front of him, and unimportant, as he approaches you and stops just in front of your much smaller figure.
“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks, cuffing up the sleeves of his black knit sweater.
“It’s up to you,” you reply to him, giving a small shrug as you speak.
“This one’s your call,” Hyunjin retorts. “I want it from the artist’s vision.”
And you can’t help the blush that creeps up on your cheeks, feeling embarrassingly flustered at the idea of someone caring even slightly about your vision. Everything’s from your client’s vision- the outfits, the poses, even the adjustments they request following the painting’s unveiling. It’s very seldom that you’re able to provide any directions to the standard of your vision, and though it’s unexpected, it’s a little endearing.
“My vision?” You echo, tapping your fingers on your chin.
You glance around the room at the supplies you have on hand, nothing special, but definitely materials you can work with.
Without replying to him, you pull forward one of the folding chairs, setting it down in front of your easel and gesturing to it.
“Could you sit on the top part? Like, on the back of the chair?”
Hyunjin nods, climbing up onto the chair and balancing as he takes a seat on the back part. It’s a little unstable looking, but Hyunjin seems to manage just fine, spreading his legs casually and running his hands through his hair.
“Your hands,” you chime in, taking note of the silver watch he flaunts on his left wrist. “Could you rest them on your knees?”
“Like this?” Hyunjin questions, sprawling his palms out over his kneecaps.
“Not quite,” you reply. “A little more like…”
And then without warning, you take both his hands in yours, positioning his elbows to rest atop his kneecaps so that his hands hang loosely in front of him. He cocks his face up to meet your gaze, the same intense expression he always houses, and you take a step back to admire the position.
“Exactly like that,” you say to him. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable and we’ll take a break.”
Hyunjin shoots a small smile, perhaps more of a smirk at you, as he sits still and watches you begin to paint in long strokes along the canvas. Your movements are fluid and impetuous, but every stroke proves itself more robust than the last, painting a clear outline of Hyunjin’s seated figure as he keeps his eyes on you. And maybe it’s because you’ve chosen his pose this time, or because it’s your third time doing this with Hyunjin, but you don’t feel nearly as uncomfortable anymore, keeping your attention on the painting and disregarding any implications that might derive from his cold stare.
“I wasn’t sure which brand of oil paints you preferred,” Hyunjin says suddenly. “So I bought you three kinds.”
“Oh, yeah,” you reply softly. “Thank you for the gifts. You really didn’t have to.”
“You have a talent,” Hyunjin voices. “I hung the last one up in my own studio.”
“You have a studio?” You question, remembering Q had previously mentioned something about him being an artist.
“I do,” Hyunjin answers. “It’s nothing like this one, just some canvases in the shared dorm we have. But I paint in all my free time. If I wasn’t here right now, I’d probably be painting.”
“That’s interesting,” you reply. “I’d love to see your work someday.
And Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to pull his phone out, navigating to his camera roll to show you some of his pieces. He flashes you a painting of a bouquet of roses, placed in a glass case atop a table. Another showcases a city street, scribbled cars and people that line the pavement. And a whole gallery of them depict people- couples, in particular, in all sorts of romantic poses. Kissing, hugging, embracing with such passion and force, almost consuming each other with their visible desperation for one another.
“They’re beautiful,” you say, in awe at the technique of his art. You weren’t expecting him to be so good, for someone who doesn’t paint as a full-time career.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin replies, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve learned so much from you.”
“Me?” You retort with a small chuckle. “I highly doubt that, your stuff is very unique. But I’m flattered that you’d say that. Thank you.”
Hyunjin keeps his gaze on yours for a moment, cocking his head to the side as though he’s observing your features. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes narrowing and widening again as he takes in the sight of you dabbing a little more olive paint into his complexion. And then he straightens his back, steadying himself on the chair with two hands gripping the sides.
“When was the last time you left this studio?” He inquires with a smug expression. He sounds a little more serious now, and his tone of voice makes your heartbeat race.
“I don’t live here,” you reply plainly. “I leave every day.”
“When was the last time you escaped?” He then clarifies. “When was the last time you weren’t confined here for the purposes of work?”
You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep busy with your task and avert his gaze.
“This is my job,” you say sternly. “I don’t want to escape.”
“I’m a dancer,” Hyunjin states matter-of-factly. “I don’t live in the studio at the building. Sure, the bright lights and the walls of mirrors help with the choreography. But sometimes I dance in my dorm. And sometimes I dance in a big grass field when nobody’s watching.”
You pause your brushstrokes for a moment, finally meeting his gaze as he stares down at you. He raises one eyebrow, waiting for an answer, which you fail to provide him with as he leans forward once again and clasps his hands together.
“You feel trapped here, don’t you?”
And suddenly his words infuriate you, the sheer audacity of him to walk into your studio demanding all these rules from you, like your boundaries can be overlooked if they’re bought. And who is he to pry into your life like this, knowing next to nothing about you except that you’re a painter? It’s blasphemous- offensive, even.
“I’m not trapped,” you say, standing from your stool and backing away from him a little. “I love my job. I can quit whenever I want to, and this is my passion.”
“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?” Hyunjin inquires, and your eyebrows contort into a much angrier frown.
“Who are you to imply any of this, anyway? You’re an idol. You’re the one who’s trapped in the confines of a million rules- are you even allowed to be here right now? Who are you when you’re not putting on the mask of a completely different persona?”
You exhale frustratedly as you finish, taking a moment to catch your breath, and trying your best to avoid his gaze. But when you meet his piercing eyes again, he’s smiling, a wicked expression on his face like he’s amused at your lashing.
“I’m glad you asked ,” he says simply.
“What?”
“I’d assumed it was part of your vision, to maybe scratch below the surface of the flesh outlines you paint. I know there’s more than meets the eye to your work. You have this passion about you.”
“Passion?” You reply nervously, now fiddling with the brush still in your grasp.
“Mhm,” Hyunjin responds casually. “Like you want to lash out. Go on, get it off your chest. I won’t mind.”
And you say nothing again, shrinking back into the confines of your wooden stool as you swirl the brush around in the same mug of water and dip it back into a dollop of paint.
“I’m sorry,” you voice to him. “I don’t treat my clients like this. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Hyunjin’s shoulders sag a little, as though he was waiting for you to keep the chaos alive in this little studio. He just nods, and then he assumes the same position as earlier, his knees spread in front of him and his hands resting comfortably on his knee caps as he slouches forward.
You resume the task of shading in his skin tone, adding highlights to the elevated portions of his face and glancing over at him in intervals to confirm where the light hits him.
“I’ve learned so much from you,” Hyunjin says for the second time tonight, and you’re still unsure what he means by it. “I think we could learn a lot about each other.”
And the studio falls silent for the remainder of the session, as he allows his eyes to bore into your soul while you translate his being onto the canvas in front of you. Or at least the parts that are able to be translated.
*
Your calendar is blocked off for the remainder of the week for other clients, Hyunjin rescheduling his sessions as he prepares for a performance overseas.
Your heart sinks a little when Q announces the schedule change to you, secretly praying you haven’t completely ruined your artist/client relationship with Hyunjin. He’s definitely a little odd, and he can be pushy when he wants to be. But he’s undeniably more intriguing than the investors you’re used to housing at the studio, telling you stories of his dancing and inquiring about all your favorite techniques every chance he gets.
He’s the first client who’s ever uttered the word “vision” when it came to yours, and not his, and you can’t let go of the value it added to your last session with him. You had yelled at him, ordered him to stop projecting his thoughts onto yours and asking personal questions. But it was the first time you felt alive, somewhat visible to a client as you painted them. His eyes pierce through your soul, every tangible inch of it, and not just the empty shell of who you are when you’re not existing so loudly. And Hyunjin seems like the only catalyst that allows you to exist loudly these days, even Q walking all over you like you’re an extension of his tedious ways.
Although your last conversation didn’t go quite as smoothly as you’d hoped it would, Hyunjin’s words continue to circle your mind relentlessly, your heart trying to make sense of them no matter how hard you try.
“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?”
It’s a fair question, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a discourteous one, either. Maybe he’s genuinely curious about the woman you are when you’re not following Q’s orders. But where has Hyunjin pulled the implication from that you’re anyone except for the person assigned to produce these portraits? You’ve given him no reason to think anything of you besides the well-mannered, focused painter you are. And to imply anything else would also, by extension, imply he knows something about you.
“I’ve learned so much about you,” he had also said to you, twice in the same session. And can one really learn from two, three sessions of watching an artist paint? Sure, if he was more focused on your technique and your mannerisms rather than staring at you so intensely. But he hadn’t seemed to be interested in much else, simply keeping his gaze on yours and asking base-level questions about your artist career.
If anything, you could learn a lot about Hyunjin, who has the whole world at his disposal and walks around this place like he owns it. He speaks of you like he’s trying to study you. He wants to learn from you, despite being the one wielding much more knowledge and wisdom than you could even begin to fathom. True, you don’t escape this studio- and you don’t utilize it without the intention to work. In fact, your work consumes you most days, your personal life just a microscopic dot in the grand scheme of this arrangement.
But Hyunjin seems to think otherwise, his generous gifts and his fascination with returning seeming to imply something else. Like he wants to learn from you, or like he’s convinced he already has.
In apprehension, like he knows you.
*
“Where are we going?” You query when Hyunjin arrives next, quickly ordering you to gather your supplies and ushering you to the door.
“We’re not painting here today,” he says plainly.
“What? No, Hyunjin I don’t paint anywhere except for-”
“The studio or a company,” he finishes. “That’s the issue. I want to take you somewhere more lively.”
“I can’t be around people,” you respond. “I don’t… it’ll just mess up the whole process.”
“Do you trust me?” Hyunjin asks suddenly, his hand extending out to yours for the briefcase you grasp.
What a simplified question- absolutely not. You don’t trust him, that’s the issue with leaving the studio. You’re still not sure of his career as a whole, you’re not sure why he’s so adamant about breaking all sorts of rules and you don’t know anything beyond his name.
“No,” you reply. “I don’t think I trust you at all, actually.”
And Hyunjin just smiles, stepping forward to take the briefcase from you.
“Good,” he replies, the same amused smile plastered on his face. “That means there’s still a lot I can teach you.”
He watches you slip on your coat, undeniably confused, but in a trance-like state obeying his commands, like your heart won’t let you hear your brain’s protests.
Hyunjin doesn’t drive. He doesn’t need to, having his own personal chauffeur at his beck and call, able to go just about anywhere in the evening during his allotted hours of free time. Ones he normally spends in the studio, watching you paint.
You sit quietly on one side of the fancy black car, your hands folded neatly in your lap and staring at the passing blur of city lights out the window. Hyunjin occupies the other, one of his slender hands resting atop the briefcase in an attempt to steady it whilst the driver makes sharp turns and brakes a little too harshly.
You watch as the city roads turn to one long paved road, surrounded by tall grass and trees. And this path goes on for a while, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, as you remain in comfortable silence. The driver seems to be acquainted with the road, turning every way he needs to, no form of navigation telling where to go, simply having memorized the route. And Hyunjin doesn’t seem tense in the slightest, humming softly to himself as he taps his fingers along the leather surface of the briefcase.
The fork at the end of the road signals the stopping point for the driver, who hits the brakes, but doesn’t turn the car off. The keys remain in the ignition as he comes around to open your door, guiding you out with one hand and bowing graciously to the both of you.
“One hour,” Hyunjin says to him, sliding him a generously folded bill.
The driver nods, occupying his spot in the driver’s seat, and you watch him make a U-turn before driving off down the path again.
The environment is quiet, much quieter than any spot back in the city. It’s nothing except for trees and tall grass that sway with the gentle evening breeze, the sky swallowing up a now orange sun as nighttime begins to over both of you. If you squint, you can even see the mountains from here, some of them lined with little yellow lights, probably vacant buildings or farm workers. And the birds sing their last songs of the day, mellow tunes that harmonize with the growing chirps of crickets.
“It’s pretty here,” you remark to Hyunjin, who stands looking out at the view with his hands tucked in his coat pockets.
He doesn’t reply for a moment, his long hair swaying with the breeze. And then he tilts his head in the direction of the briefcase, nodding once.
“Paint what you see,” he orders.
You nod reluctantly, scrambling to open the briefcase and set up your supplies.
“Do you want to stand there? Or… do you prefer something else?”
He smiles, a little amused at your rushed state, and then he shakes his head.
“Not me,” he clarifies. “The view. Paint what you see.”
You swallow a lump in your throat, stopping your movements and pondering the words for a moment. You haven’t painted a view in god knows how long. Your skills are rusty, your techniques are skewed and the whole concept of it makes you shudder.
“The view?” You question back. You take a moment to look at the view again- there are possibilities everywhere. Green grasses that resemble paint strokes themselves, a deepening blue sky with strokes of blues and blacks, stars like paint splatters and trees with sponge-painted bushels. The art is everywhere, the possibilities are vast and endless with a view like this one.
“The view,” Hyunjin echoes. “Don’t take it too seriously. This isn’t some company's order to paint me. I just want to see the world through your eyes.”
And you nod, once, Hyunjin helping you latch your sketch pad to the easel as you mix a myriad of blues and greens together on your wooden palette.
He flips through your sketch pad for a little while before stepping away, nodding at the pages upon pages of art unlike any of your portraits. When you think he’s going to move, he doesn’t, remaining in the same spot and nodding his head at the works. And you feel a little shy, a little confused at why he’s taken so much interest in the work you complete on the side, work completely unrelated to any of your portraits. When he reaches a blank page, he meets your gaze with a small smile, nodding his head once at you as he finally moves out of the way.
And then you finally begin, hesitantly, as Hyunjin finds a spot in an undisturbed part of the grass, sprawling his long legs out in front of him and pulling out a sketch pad from his own bag. He angles it away from you, beginning to make long, generous lines with his charcoal pencil, peering over at the trees every now and then to gauge their shape. And you remain there, a comfortable silence among both of you, as you both capture the view in your respective visions.
The technique comes back to you instantly, like motion memory, quickly sponging leaves into the trees and pulling the dark sky from its draped position over you to plaster it onto the canvas you work on. Blues, greens, glittering whites for the night stars and fantastic shades of chartreuse and viridian find their homes on the canvas, so carefully placed and mirroring the view you overlook. You emulate the shadows, the waning glints of light, even the sounds seem to live on the picturesque view where time stands still in the confines of four walls.
Hyunjin doesn’t disturb your work flow- in fact, for most of the time you remain there, you cease to remember he’s even working on a sketch of his own, his delicate figure disappearing among the trees as your peripherals shut him out and bring nature to the forefront.
It’s only an hour you’re there, like Hyunjin had promised, before he’s returning to your spot and standing behind you to look over your shoulder.
“Beautiful,” Hyunjin states dramatically. “Beautiful, and spectacular, and shining.”
You chuckle lightly, wiping the brush on your smock and tucking it away in one of the front pockets.
“Will you sign it?” Hyunjin asks, cocking his head a little to try to find where your signature currently sits, but finding nothing.
“Oh, yeah,” you respond, bringing a charcoal pencil to the bottom right and scribbling a quick signature.
He scans the painting once more, tracing a finger over the corner where you’ve added your signature, and then he gives a small nod before meeting your gaze.
“This one’s my favorite,” Hyunjin tells you. “Because it’s entirely your vision.”
“The ones I make of you are my vision, too,” you explain, and Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.
“I like how you see the world. Not how you see me. Or anybody else, for that matter.”
And you find yourself blushing again, unsure if his intention is to fluster you with his poetic words, but well aware that he’s having the effect on you regardless.
“Thank you,” you echo politely. “I like this one, too.”
Your gazes remain fixed on each other for a brief moment, the grass now standing still as the night falls over you, stars glittering in the black sky and the crickets singing their nocturnal songs.
For the first time since meeting him, Hyunjin looks less cold at this proximity to you, his entire demeanor exuding softness and comfort as he smiles at you. Maybe it’s the black puffer coat he wears, the collar pulled up to his chin to keep warm from the frigid winter night around you. He wears his glasses, too, these ones a thicker black frame, pushed high up on his face and a little dorky, admittedly. But it’s also because he seems kinder, more warm and welcoming. There’s no existing rush to capture him any which way- in fact, there’s no pressure to capture him at all. And maybe when you’re not translating his model-like appearance onto canvas, you’re able to step back and admire that he’s soft under his hard exterior, he’s so gentle and human.
At first, you debate telling him, a sudden urge inside of you to apologize for your presumptions of him and admit that he’s slowly become your favorite client to be around. Maybe he’s right- maybe you do have a lot you can teach each other. He lives a life of lavishness, entertaining varying aspects of his idol career and serving a role of great importance to those who know him. And he is certainly of importance to your career, being your highest-paying customer and the one you’ve painted the most now. But he plays a role in other parts of your life too, allowing you to try new techniques, entertain your vision, circling your mind with his poetic words and his strategic motions. All lessons which allow you to grow outside the confines of your studio, too.
But you settle on silence, not wanting Hyunjin to think too boldly of you. Maybe he’s like this with everybody he crosses paths with. Choreographers, vocal coaches and painters alike. Maybe he’s simply as fascinating as he looks.
As you study him again, the sound of a car engine interrupts you, and you turn around to find Hyunjin’s driver has returned as promised. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright headlights that illuminate the whole field, as Hyunjin helps you gather your supplies again, securing the canvas in its case and transporting it into the backseat of the car with the driver’s help.
Hyunjin holds the door for you this time, ushering you inside, and then he comes around to slide into the backseat next to you.
“I think it’s going to rain,” the driver says as he puts the car in reverse.
You crane your neck to look at the sky through the tinted windows, dark blue clouds that loom overhead and seem to make the night even colder.
“I have one more place we need to stop at,” Hyunjin says suddenly, sitting forward to make eye contact with the driver through the mirror.
The driver nods in response, as if the last location is a secret kept between them, as he begins down the dirt path again in silence.
*
“Ever been here?” Hyunjin questions, as he holds out a hand to guide you up the stairs. The steep concrete stairs lead to a grand crested marble doorway, a bronze statue out in front and dimly lit lamp posts that illuminate the sign overhead.
Museum of Modern Art.
“Once, a long, long time ago,” you respond. “I think I usually steer clear from galleries since I don’t show my work at them.”
Hyunjin chuckles softly, stopping at the front door and meeting the gaze of a security guard, who promptly strides over and opens the door just an inch.
Hyunjin pulls out an ID, and a folded paper of some sort, and you watch as the security examines it briefly before nodding. It’s only then that you realize the museum is closed for the evening, the only person around behind the night security, but of course that rule doesn’t apply to Hyunjin, who can get in just about anywhere with the flash of a smile.
“It’s the only way to visit with no one else around,” Hyunjin says, confirming your theory. “They let me stay as long as I want. Sometimes I draw here.”
You nod at his words, giving a small smile as the security eyes you intensely, and then he opens the door to guide both of you inside. Hyunjin removes his coat, slinging it over a nearby coat hanger, and he flaunts a white knit sweater with his dark jeans, looking cozy in contrast to the dark winter night outside. He holds your sketch pad tucked under one arm, and then he skips excitedly to a room behind a curtain.
“This one’s my favorite!” He exclaims, giggling softly like a child might. “Do you know they’re all made out of recycled materials?”
And you brush the curtain aside, being met with the sculptures he speaks of, neutral-toned figurines that appear to be made of paper mache, all resembling people. Their forms hold each other, mimic ballroom dancing, and even embrace each other in a tender kiss as they stand tall in the center of the room.
You watch as Hyunjin snaps a few photos with his cellphone, craning his neck to view them at a better angle, and then he turns to face you.
“What do you think?” Hyunjin asks.
“They’re beautiful,” you reply. “They kind of remind me of your drawings.”
He shoots you a flustered smile in response, touched that you’ve even remembered what his drawings look like. And then he graciously bows as he ushers to another room.
“I think you’ll like the next one.”
The next room behind another dark curtain is a gallery of paintings, all of them abstract forms of art that experiment with different colors and mediums. You take a while in this room, sauntering down the row of canvases and observing how each one captures something completely different from the others. Some include only cool-toned shades, their strokes much smaller and overall more somber. Some play with warm tones, long generous strokes that capture passion and heat. And some mix both, two stories dancing in harmony on one canvas, contrasting light with shadow and love with regret.
As you cock your head slightly, observing the way the colors are so evocative from this proximity, Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, cocking his head in a similar fashion and taking in the same details that you do. And if someone were to stand behind you, maybe both of you would mirror the painting, too, two hues of life and recluse working in perfect harmony alongside each other.
“Nice, isn’t it?” Hyunjin asks, and you hum in response.
“Yeah. I love these colors.”
Hyunjin nods, giving the painting a last once-over before nodding in the direction of another curtain.
“Come on, I want to show you this last one.”
The last room houses a little bench, where Hyunjin occupies the left side and pats the spot next to him. You take a seat, your hands folded neatly in your lap, as you observe the colossal painting in front of you.
It’s a watercolor painting, one amorphous shape at a far distance, yet at this proximity, the tangible outline of a figure, sat with legs pulled to the chest and crouched in a position evoking such sadness.
The cold blue hues highlight the shadows which define body parts among the pile of limbs, the curve of a breast, the almost indistinguishable outline of a leg, aspects you have to really squint hard to make out. But the colors complement each other so artistically, and the figure in the painting looks so melancholy, so longing for something more than the confines of the canvas she lives on.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hyunjin voices, and you nod, swallowing as you remain quiet.
He pauses for a moment, his voice hitching in the back of his throat, before speaking again.
“The artist was a child prodigy,” he begins. “Apparently they painted all their life and then became a sort of recluse into adulthood. No one’s seen a painting from them since. This was their last big project.”
“Interesting,” you remark quietly.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies. “And their art is always titled around themes of loneliness and solitude. Every painting kind of feels like a puzzle piece leading up to their disappearance from the art world.”
Hyunjin says nothing as your eyes dart around the room, swallowing nervously as you ponder what to say. And nothing comes to mind, nothing that won’t make you seem crazy, or irate.
And then before you can protest his actions, he flips open your sketch pad he’s kept tucked under his arm all this time, flipping through a few pages until he’s nearly at the end. He stops at one of your paintings, cool aqua hues filling the paper in the same manner as the one hung on the wall.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Hyunjin finally says, and you realize he’s turned to face you now.
You stand up at this point, smoothing down your blouse and turning away from his gaze.
“Sorry, I have to go-”
You search for an exit, unable to locate one amidst the dark curtains and the dimly lit room. And the only thing you can think to do is walk back the way you entered, beginning back through the abstract painting gallery as Hyunjin follows behind you.
“They’re amazing,” Hyunjin says. “You have a talent. Your paintings were always my favorite-”
“Please, stop,” you interrupt, your heart beating erratically as you make your way past the paper mache sculptures.
“Why did you stop making them?” He asks, now standing still in the entrance, the security guard on high alert as he watches Hyunjin’s stressed demeanor.
“Sorry,” you voice to the security guard, bowing to him. “I have to go, thank you so much.”
And without turning to look at Hyunjin, you push the doors open, making your way out of the museum and onto the concrete steps. It’s raining now, hard, like the driver had predicted, and you march right past his parked car to one of the taxis parked by the curb.
The cab driver takes an address from you, punching it into his navigation system as he begins to drive down the street, and you pray he can’t hear the quiet sniffles coming from you in the backseat.
As he pulls away from the curb, you glance out the window at the museum, where Hyunjin’s now shoving past the door and standing still, his hands dropped at his sides and a hurt expression on his face.
His hair falls damp around his face as he lets the sheets of rain wash over him, his driver exiting the vehicle in a rush to get Hyunjin back into the safety of the car.
But he remains there, unmoving, his hurt gaze fixed on yours, as you turn a corner and fall out of his sight.
*
And just like the sessions were uneventful before Hyunjin, they’re much more uneventful after him, too.
Putting the sessions on hold for Hyunjin is nothing, his life full of vibrancy and color when he’s not spending an hour or two with you in the evening posing for a painting. It’s time he fills with extra dance practice, vocal training, spending time with his members and even doing art of his own.
But for you, it means returning to a life of mediocrity, requesting stock brokers to angle their big heads in a more appealing manner so you can capture every one of their unsightly features. You’re ogled at by salesmen, disrespected by accountants and not a single one of them could give a shit about your vision.
A part of you wants to call Hyunjin and apologize, to explain that he was out of line in his approach to identify you and catch you so off-guard. But you’re mostly angry at him, for having ruined something so beautiful you took pride in every week. Now he’s gone, the sessions put on pause until further notice and your life forever changed by Hyunjin, though he’ll keep living his life of lavishness despite being the source of all your pain.
“Now that we don’t have Hyunjin on the books after this week, I need you to resume the work on Mr. Lee’s painting. Let’s not lose sight of the ones we started prior to his pieces,” Q says, as he flips through a clipboard of printed schedules.
“This week?” You echo in question. “I thought sessions with Hyunjin were put on hold until further notice.”
“They were,” he responds. “After your last session this week. He’ll be here tomorrow evening. He’s your last client of the day.”
“Tomorrow?” You repeat, pausing your brush strokes as you turn to look at him. “He requested to come in tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Q replies with furrowed brows. “Why, is there a problem? I already told him yes.”
“No, that’s fine,” you reply, rotating the brush around in your fingers as you think over his words. “Tomorrow works fine.”
Despite the sessions being put on hold, you’ll still have a moment to explain yourself to Hyunjin and make amends. It might not get you exactly where you were before all of this, but the thought of letting Hyunjin part ways thinking you despise him makes your stomach turn. You’ll still get a moment alone with him to rekindle the state of your friendship.
… Or so you thought. When you arrive at the studio the next day for your last session, Q is still there, organizing papers at one of the tables and still dressed in a fancy blazer and tie like he never left from this morning’s session.
“Quinton?” You call, setting your purse down and toying with the hem of your shirt.
“Yes?” He responds, not looking up at you.
“Are you… don’t you normally sit these sessions out?”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he says casually. “I’ll be sitting in on this last one. I know they were put on hold pretty abruptly, and I wanted to be around for your last one.”
You give him a small nod, protesting his actions mentally. You won’t get a minute alone with Hyunjin after all- not with Q watching you like a hawk. You want to scream at him, to tell him he has to leave and that he’ll be permanently disrupting the client-artist relationship you’ve developed with your highest-paying customer if he stays and taints the room with his overwhelming presence. But he largely determines the success of your career, whether you like it or not. And requesting Q’s absence will most certainly point to something more going on between you and Hyunjin.
“Right,” you reply. “That’s fine.”
You wish Quinton wouldn’t be so… mechanical. You wish he could trust that you’ll get the job done, despite any existing tensions between you and Hyunjin. You wish he wouldn’t pretend to care about being present, when in reality you know he just wants to make sure it wasn’t you who screwed something up. And you wish he would leave you alone with Hyunjin to make amends the way you know you need to before you part ways with him.
When the door opens once again, you both turn your heads to look at Hyunjin, who strolls in with casual strides, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze falls on Q, and he furrows his brows together, finally looking at you, with a confused expression on his face.
“Welcome!” Q says obnoxiously. “I’ll be sitting in for this session, I hope you don’t mind.”
Hyunjin shoots him a thin-lipped smile, giving a subtle nod as he slings his bag off.
“Sure,” he replies. “That’s fine.”
He assumes his spot on the same wooden stool, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, and then he turns to meet your gaze.
“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks. He sounds more somber than the other times he’d asked the same question, his voice trailing off a little as he waits for a reply.
“This is good,” you say, taking your own seat and beginning to work light strokes across the canvas. You start with his jawline, the same chiseled jawline you’ve gotten so used to painting, working a robust angle where the crook of his neck meets his cheeks. Then his eyes, the piercing intensity of them, narrowing involuntarily as he poses with such skill, the same eyes which have graced the covers of magazines and album covers. His lips, plump and rosy, forming a small pout as he remains silent. And the outline of his luscious brown tresses, which fall beautifully around his face and soften the rest of his features.
He looks so enchanting this evening, like he’s straight out of one of the paintings at the museum. And your anger feels almost completely dissipated once he’s in front of you like this, just a pressing urge to be alone with him so you can communicate properly.
“Looking good,” Q says as he comes up behind you, his hands folded behind his back.
Hyunjin’s eyes dart over at Q’s standing figure, glancing over at you again while you paint. You attempt to shoot him an apologetic expression, wanting to tell him it wasn’t your idea to have Q here watching your every move. But you can’t properly convey your emotions to him with Q practically breathing down your neck.
“Beautiful work”, Q chimes in, nodding as you add the color to Hyunjin’s hair.
You can feel yourself getting frustrated with him, wishing so badly you could at least ask him to wait on the other side of the room like he normally does. But he remains there, crowding around you as you work and filling the room with his awkward presence.
“I’ll drag up a chair,” Q says with a small chuckle. “So I don’t have to stand.”
And both you and Hyunjin watch as he pulls up a folding chair, dragging it along the floor in one painfully slow motion, the sound of the legs screeching against the concrete floor as he places it next to you and takes a seat.
Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours again, cocking his head slightly as though he’s asking why you’ve allowed Q to be so overbearing today. But none of this is according to your plans, either.
“Go on,” Q urges. “You don’t have to wait for me.”
You hadn’t even realized you’ve stopped painting, grasping your brush between your fingers as you watch Q adjust in his seat and gesture to the painting.
“I think we should take a break,” Hyunjin says finally. “My leg is cramping a little.”
“Of course,” Q echoes back. “We can take five. There’s a vending machine out by the front door. And the bathrooms are on the right, by the-”
Q can’t even finish his sentence before Hyunjin’s shoving his way past the door, taking long strides away from the studio and waiting outside. He pinches the bridge of his nose in deep annoyance, letting out a deep sigh as he ponders the evening’s events so far.
“I’m going to use the restroom,” you tell Q, setting your brush down and following Hyunjin. “I’ll be right back.”
And you follow his footsteps, pushing on the door to meet him outside, where he stands with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his temples frustratedly.
He looks angry, as you predict he would be, but you approach him anyway, fiddling with your thumbs as he stays quiet for a moment.
“I organized this last session to speak with you,” Hyunjin says in an annoyed tone. “I should’ve known you’d invite him.”
“I didn’t invite him,” you say quickly. “I didn’t even know he’d be here, I swear. He just stayed, and he was insistent on sitting in.”
Hyunjin finally drops his hand at his side, meeting your gaze, a softening expression on his face.
“I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he finally says. “I overstepped my boundaries. I’m just here to pay you for art. Not prod into your personal life.”
“I know,” you say back. “I wanted to explain to you, but…” your voice trails off, remembering this is technically your last session with him. And judging by the way everyone speaks of him, it’ll be near impossible to contact him again after this.
“It seems like I missed my chance,” you finish, referencing Q’s persistence.
Hyunjin glances around for a moment at the overgrown plants that line the studio windows, still damp from the evening rain. It looks like a jungle out here, the plants providing no clear view through the windows and instilling such a peaceful sense of privacy.
“Could you stay a little longer?” Hyunjin questions. “After he leaves. I just want to talk to you before I go.”
You think over his proposal for a moment- Quinton is punctual at leaving right past the hour mark. He never stays longer for hours than he needs to, but he’s no stranger to you utilizing the studio to finish up some of your work after hours.
“Sure,” you say finally. “Just pretend you’ve left after the session and I’ll tell him I need to stay longer. Don’t wait near the parking lot or he’ll see you.”
A somber smile grows on Hyunjin’s face as he nods in response.
“I’m going to call my driver and tell him I’ll be longer than the original session. Meet you back inside.”
And you make your way back into the studio, where Q is busy shuffling through papers at the table.
“Ready?” He asks, already taking strides back to his stool, positioned far too close to your canvas and Hyunjin’s seat.
“Yeah,” you reply, sighing a little as he occupies the seat next to you and glances around the room for Hyunjin.
“He’s taking a phone call,” you explain to Q. “Just give him a minute.”
And Q pushes his glasses further up his nose, humming in response as he observes your painting again.
“You’ve really mastered his features,” he comments, scanning over Hyunjin’s painted outline. “Even his eye mole is already there.”
And you scan the painting too, at the little mole painted just below Hyunjin’s left eye as he requested.
“Yeah,” you reply. “I guess I have.”
You wouldn’t forget it, because everything about him occupies your mind, much like his figure lives on your canvases.
*
It’s just half an hour more before you’re finished with Hyunjin’s painting. It’s still lacking some detail, like the contours along his face and the buttons of his cardigan. But they’re all details you give yourself time to finish later, before you wrap up your final piece and gift it to Hyunjin.
Q is relentless in his micromanaging for the remainder of the session, making useless comments about your techniques and asking Hyunjin about his own work. Hyunjin’s answers are all short and echo his clear annoyance, desperate to finish the session in order to speak with you privately. But you both remain collected in your manners, graciously conversing with Q and reaching the end of the session.
Q reviews his invoice documents as Hyunjin slings his bag on once more, standing by the door as though he’s ready to leave.
“Payment was finalized today, and your sessions are on hold until your tour is completed.”
“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, bowing graciously. “It was a pleasure to work with both of you. I’ll be back when we’re done overseas.”
“Don’t hesitate to reach out!” Q calls, as Hyunjin makes his way past the door. He waves Q off with a small smile and then turns the corner until he’s out of sight.
“Well, there goes your best-paying client,” Q remarks with a deep sigh. “We have a lot more to pick back up on. I know Mr. Lee’s paintings are still in progress-”
“Thank you, Quinton,” you voice to him. “We’ll talk scheduling tomorrow. Please just get home safely.”
“You’re not leaving yet?” He queries, already pulling on his canvas bag and hanging his clipboard from a thumbtack on the wall.
“I’m going to finish the details while I still remember them. I’ll only be an hour longer.”
Q shrugs, making his way pivoting on his white canvas sneakers and giving you a small wave.
“Call if you need anything,” he says plainly. “Make sure to lock up.”
“I will,” you echo, craning your neck as you watch him finally exit past the door and jog down the stairs. You can’t see Hyunjin anywhere, but Q doesn’t seem to notice him if he’s still around, starting his car and speeding out of the parking lot.
And not even a full minute passes before Hyunjin makes his way back inside, shaking water off his hands.
“I stood under one of the gutters,” he says in a disgusted tone. His hair is stringy wet with rain water, and he chuckles when you meet his gaze with an amused smile.
“You’ll have to let me paint it like that, someday,” you respond, and he laughs lightly.
You take a seat on the folding chair previously occupied by Q, and Hyunjin assumes his same spot on the wooden stool. For a moment he says nothing, observing your face as you tap your fingers along the metal of the chair below you. There’s not a sound in the room between the two of you, with the exception of a small creak coming from the wooden stool as Hyunjin adjusts his long legs. He runs his hands through his hair nervously, and then he licks his dry lips with his tongue before speaking.
“I have something for you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, his voice echoing around the empty room.
He stands up to pull his bag off the floor, and then he digs around in it for a moment before pulling out his sketchbook. You watch as his slender fingers open the spiral-bound cover, flipping past pages upon pages of sketches and paintings. He flips close to the end, and then he stops, bookmarking the page with his index finger before turning the book to face you.
“I’m sorry if you don’t like it,” he says, keeping the book shut in anticipation. “It’s just something I drew.”
And then with bated breath, he opens the book out to you, adjusting the page in your view to give you a clear sight of its contents. It’s a carefully drawn sketch, of you, standing in front of an easel with a brush in your hand. Painting, like you always do. You recognize the scenery around you as the spot he took you to the other day, the long charcoal streaks perfectly capturing the grass that surrounded you and the tall trees that overlooked the hills. Although it’s a sight familiar to you, it also feels so foreign, seeing yourself through somebody else’s eyes. It feels peculiar to remember people also perceive you while you paint. It makes you feel less unimportant, a little more visible.
“Wow, Hyunjin, this is…”
“Do you like it?” Hyunjin interrupts.
“It’s so lovely. Really. I feel like I don’t deserve this.”
“You do,” he’s quick to respond. “You’ve drawn countless ones of me. And of so many other people. I wanted to gift you one of your own.”
You run your fingers along the thick paper, watching as Hyunjin tears it along its perforation and hands it to you.
“Please, keep it,” he urges.
And you bow once in response, turning to set the drawing along with your bag so you won’t forget it.
“Thank you,” you finally say. “I love it. I’m going to hang it with all my favorite art.”
Hyunjin smiles in response, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets again, leaning against the wooden stool as a silence falls over you both.
For a moment, you ponder what to say to him, wanting to explain the events from the other evening, but unable to verbalize anything amidst your nervousness. Any way you think about it, you fear Hyunjin is going to get mad, especially considering you’d just walked away from him in the face of confrontation. But you also couldn’t help it, his accusation coming so suddenly and so boldly, regardless of it being based on any sliver of truth.
“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin breaks the silence. “I don’t know if I was right or not. But it wasn’t my place to ask you.”
You nod at him, initially planning to divert the topic. But you can’t any further, a growing urge inside of your chest to unveil the truth to him, knowing he’s already pieced this much of it together.
“It is my painting,” you say finally, your voice shaking a little. “I specialized in those ones before portraits. They kind of gained traction when they were first unveiled, and a lot of galleries picked them up. But they drew a lot of criticism, and it became so draining to be the topic of people’s judgment. I think being perceived so heavily just kind of… scared me off. So I shifted to portraits instead, and I no longer do public showings or galleries.”
Hyunjin doesn’t react in a shocked manner, nor does he press you for questions immediately. He just nods, taking in your words, and then he meets your gaze with a concerned expression.
“I learned so much from you,” he explains. “When your paintings were unveiled at the annual art show across the city, I was so mesmerized. They’re why I started painting, too.”
You chuckle lightly, shrugging at him as you slouch back in your seat.
“Yeah, well, I don’t do them anymore.”
You think over your response for a moment, and then you stand up from your seat, too, furrowing your brows together.
“How did you… know it was me?” You question, cocking your head slightly.
“I had a hunch when I first saw your painting techniques. But I also knew it the moment I saw your other paintings in your sketchbook,” he explains. “My favorite painting of the series is printed out and taped to my locker in our dance studio. It just felt like you. I paid attention to your art for years. I was bound to know it when I saw it.”
You nod for the umpteeth time tonight, making sense of his words as you think back to the signature you drew in front of him back in the field.
“I’m sorry I figured it out,” Hyunjin says finally. “I know this was an elaborate plan to remain anonymous and shift your focus to a new form of your work. And your portraits are amazing. But you have a real talent for those older ones. And the whole series just… it changed me.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” you tell Hyunjin, looking up to meet his gaze at last. “If anyone was going to find out, I’m glad it was you.”
“You are?” Hyunjin questions, and you hum in response.
“As a client, you have this really interesting way of making me feel seen. When I’m around you, It feels a lot more comfortable from the businessmen I’m used to. It’s like…” your voice trails off as you struggle to finish your sentence. “I feel like I did when I was painting my old stuff. I can see the world beyond just portraits for a little bit.”
Hyunjin says nothing, his eyes flickering down to your lips and back at your eyes once more, which are wide with curiosity and passion as you speak. It’s such a sight to see you talk about your art with this level of devotion again, color in your face once more as you attest to your life’s work.
“Tell me,” Hyunjin begins. “Why are all your paintings so lonely?”
You chuckle softly, shrugging up at him.
“I am lonely,” you say simply.
“I’m lonely, too,” Hyunjin remarks.
And your expression turns serious again, your eyes not leaving his intense gaze as he flickers over your parted lips and takes one step closer to you. He’s towering over you at this point, a strand of hair falling into his face as he lets himself lean into you a little more, just barely grazing his lips over yours.
“Can I please kiss you?” Hyunjin asks so politely, his voice coming out in a whisper as he stops himself from pressing his lips to yours while he waits for an answer.
“Yeah” you finally reply in a whisper of your own, almost on your tippy toes to match his towering height.
And then without another second to waste, Hyunjin closes the gap between both of you, leaning down to press his plump lips to yours and embrace you in a tender, desperate kiss.
He tastes like mint, his lips working against yours with no particular rush, yet his mind still running rampant with thoughts of having you as close as possible. It feels so wrong kissing him here, in the studio you strictly use for the purposes of completing your work-related tasks and nothing more. But with Hyunjin’s lips on yours and his slender hands snaking around the small of your back to pull you closer, it also feels so thrilling, instilling a sense of desire deep within you that can only be fulfilled through acting upon the emotions rooted in your innate fascination with Hyunjin’s entire being.
And you feel visible right now, so tangible when Hyunjin’s nimble hands are running down the sides of your waist and sprawling his delicate fingers along your flesh. It’s you kissing him here, not some shell of who you are when you’re capturing the essences of millionaires on canvas. You’re not the scribbled outlines in Hyunjin’s sketches of couples consuming each other with such passion, though you mirror them. It’s you, child prodigy artist turned portrait specialist, and Hyunjin, in all his fame and splendor, who chooses to spend his free time with you in this studio teaching you about yourself the way you learn from him, too.
Hyunjin’s hands move to tug off the fabric of your cardigan, slouching it off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, where it piles in disarray among the white tarp that houses loose paints. You’re pretty sure there may still be wet paint on its surface, but you don’t care, your body desperately arching into Hyunjin’s tall frame as his hands cup your cheeks to kiss you even deeper.
You can barely reach him while his frame looms over you, only able to reciprocate his kisses on the tips of your toes as he takes full control of you with his mouth. And Hyunjin seems to take notice of this, intertwining his hands in yours and pulling you down with him as he sits among the tarp and sprawls his legs out in front of him. You bestride his lean figure, balancing yourself on his lap as he adjusts himself on the concrete floor, and you both laugh when you take note of the admittedly uncomfortable positioning. It’s not meant for lovers, this dinky studio and its cold, concrete flooring. But it’s nothing that can’t be overlooked when his lips are back on yours, kissing you breathlessly and tucking strands of hair behind your ears. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, an indication by Hyunjin’s definition that he’s wanted this so badly. And he knew it from the moment you walked into the company building the first time, nervously preparing yourself out in the hallway like you weren’t going to be an absolute pro at your craft the way he now knows you are. He also knew it every time he observed your paintings, both your old ones and the newer ones that capture Hyunjin with such ease, every minute detail that builds up his intense stare only to break him down and soften him, translating this multifaceted version of him only you seem to visualize. And he gains confirmation of it when he’s finally acting upon his urges, your hands snaking around the back of his neck and moving in tandem with his hungry kisses against yours, grasping at his flesh like you’re trying to prove to yourself he’s real, too.
His sweater is the second article of clothing to go, your bodies only separating from one another briefly as you guide the knit fabric off over him and discard it beside you in the tarp. Your hands find his torso reluctantly, running your fingers along his flesh as though asking for his permission. And Hyunjin smiles when you do, placing his hands over yours and pressing down a little firmer for you, so that you can feel every inch of his toned body. He wields the body of a dancer, delicate curves that run along his sculpted obliques and highlight the years of intense training he’s done. His body feels strong underneath you, but he still feels soft, his touches exuding the gentle fondness he possesses for you.
And you’re kissing him again, all while his hands find your tank top and he separates to undress you, pulling it off over your head and tossing it aside. His hands are quick to find your breasts, splaying them over the mounds of your chest and massaging gently as his kisses turn hungrier. You can feel him getting hard underneath you, and you can hear his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he struggles to contain his growing bulge while you straddle him. But you indulge him even further, undoing the clasp of your bra with your own hand as you continue kissing him. Hyunjin doesn’t notice until your hand reaches out to toss your bra aside, a gentle rustle emitting from beside you as it joins the pile of discarded articles of clothing. And he separates to take in the sight of you, raised goosebumps along your bare skin and your nipples aroused for him, the cold air grazing over your chest as you wait for him to resume his touches. Hyunjin gasps a little, leaning forward to take one in his mouth, and then he begins to suck harshly as his tongue swirls around your bud generously and trails saliva along your skin. You moan at the sensation, Hyunjin digging his fingernails into the small of your back and leaving little crescent marks as his sucking resumes harshly, soft moans bubbling from the back of his throat, too, as he stays latched to you. And then he pulls away to give attention to the other one, his teeth grazing the tip of your nipple before sucking again, his eyes shutting as he relishes in the taste of your skin in his mouth. Hyunjin’s hips rock gently against you as he does, chasing the friction of your legs around his crotch as he grows even harder beneath you, desperate for some release. And then he pulls away finally, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with lust and a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You bring a thumb to his forehead, swiping the bead off his blushed skin, before cupping your hands around his cheeks and bringing him in for a kiss.
“Please let me fuck you,” Hyunjin says sheepishly against your lips, groaning lightly when he feels you squeeze your thighs once against his crotch.
“You want to?” You ask teasingly, massaging your hands up and down the sides of his neck as he nods eagerly.
“I really, really want to,” Hyunjin responds, shutting his eyes as you squeeze your legs again and pepper his face in kisses, trailing from his forehead, to his cheeks and down his neck. Hyunjin leans back on the palms of his hands in a state of pure bliss, taking in the sensation he’s only dreamt of until now. And when you nibble down on his neck, beginning to suck a small bruise into his skin, he sits up suddenly, his hands finding yours and pushing you away gently.
“Wait,” Hyunjin says. “I can’t… do hickeys. Company’s orders,” he admits, a little defeated, and you nod your head quickly.
“I’m sorry,” you remark. “I totally forgot.”
“It’s okay,” Hyunjin almost cuts you off with a kiss, leaning forward and sitting up on his knees. He guides you down onto the tarp, hoisting himself up over you so that his figure is now hovering over yours, and then his hands find your pants.
“You can do hickeys though,” Hyunjin says in an amused tone, trailing kisses down your neck the same way you did him, and latching his teeth onto your flesh to suck a line of purple bruises. You chuckle underneath him, the sensation tickling a little, but still adding to the generous pool already formed between your legs. And as Hyunjin presses into you with his kisses, you can feel his erection graze your upper thigh, once more seeking the friction of your body for some sense of relief as he longs to feel you around his hardened cock.
“Hyunjin,” you voice as he kisses you, and he hums quietly in response.
“You’re hard,” you remark, your eyes flickering to the tent pitched underneath his jeans.
“Sorry,” he replies, pulling away with a worried expression in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure. “I just want to take care of it for you.”
And your hands find your own jeans, pulling them off your legs and tossing them aside. Hyunjin’s eyes skim over your lace panties, the trim almost see through with delicate feminine patterns, and he begins to undo the button of his jeans, too.
He kisses you as he snakes off his own pants, not wanting to separate from you any more as his eagerness grows to be as close to you as possible. And when he’s finally letting his hard cock rub against the fabric of your panties, moaning softly at the sensation, he knows he won’t be able to take it much longer if he doesn’t make love to you right here in the studio.
So his hands work to pull off his boxers, finally freeing his erection against his abdomen and gasping with the cool air grazes the tip of his cock. You slide off your own panties as well, tossing them aside and letting his cock rest against your bare flesh now, his precum painting your clit with his preemptive arousal as he ruts against you. Your flesh is slick with his arousal and yours, the existing lube between both of you allowing your skin to glide upon one another so effortlessly, the same way your lips work against each other. And he continues to push his hardened length against you until he’s halfway inside of you, your cunt taking him with no struggle as he thrusts inside of you now. You adjust to his thick girth easily, his length seemingly never ending as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. And then he gives one particularly hard thrust, bottoming out inside of you and coaxing a fervent moan out of you.
“Is it okay?” Hyunjin asks, wincing at the sensation of your walls hugging his erection.
“So good,” you whine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Feels so good.”
And he begins to move in and out of you at a slow pace, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s already close to reaching as he fucks you, filling your cunt entirely with his long cock and bottoming out every time he thrusts himself back in.
And he tries to kiss you, but he can’t, his mouth simply looming over yours in its parted position as he echoes his moans into you and lets his saliva-coated lips graze over you. He looks like the subject of an erotic painting himself, eyebrows arched up so artistically with every thrust, melting into your touch as you run your hands through his hair. His initial dominance over you is quickly shifted to that of submission to your mind and your body, little whines leaving his lips as he lets you consume him whole and mold him between in your touch, like he’s made of clay and you’re the sculptor. His lanky body seems to extend as he sways his hips into yours, little dips from the pads of your fingers embedding into his pale skin. He folds effortlessly above you, the points of his elbows jutting out as he steadies his body over you, like he’s made of wire and positioned to balance over you so perfectly, not very sturdy, and yet bent and snapped just right so that he can remain glued to you. And if you were to climb out of your body and paint this exact moment, all you would see are an indistinguishable, amorphous set of limbs that seem to dissolve into each other like hues of paint on a palette. Two colors swirling around to make one, the two of you like primary colors that create endless possibilities when mixed together like this, offspring of a hundred different shades, painting the darkened studio around you with your yearning for one another.
And as Hyunjin brings a hand to stroke your cheek gently, a smile grows on his breathless lips as he realizes he’s brushed a thick stroke of wet paint along your skin. The indigo stripe contrasts coldly against your flesh, still glistening in its freshness like he’s just begun on a blank canvas.
“It’s paint,” Hyunjin says as you gasp at the cold sensation, smiling too, when he swipes it again with his thumb and flashes it down at you.
And you chuckle lightly below him, taking note of the bright orange streak that lines his neck, just below his adam’s apple. You’re not sure when it got there, or whether it was from you or him, but you run a finger through it too, bringing it to his cheek to rub your thumb lovingly across his face and paint it there, too. And in one swift motion, Hyunjin swipes the palm of his hand along the tarp, coating it in hues of indigo and deep violet and gray, cupping a hand around your breast to coat it in the same wet substance. And you do the same, your hand dipping generously into the myriad of reds and fuchsia paints that live below you, running a hand down his chest and painting a long stripe along his toned torso.
You both laugh, as he picks up his pace again, pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, the paints melting together with your sweat as he fucks you rhythmically again. And like two blank canvases finally being put to use, new colors blossom between the two of your longing bodies, shades of magenta and blue-gray making themselves known across your breasts and his torso. The colors are vibrant and robust, transferring life from the dull tarp of the studio floor onto blank slates of skin. You wish you could step out of your body and capture the colors forever, mix paints together into little jars and name every shade after every feeling Hyunjin’s ever given you. Longing, lust, fear, fascination, infatuation, obsession.
“I think I’m obsessed with you,” Hyunjin breathes into your mouth so desperately. “It’s indescribable, the things you do to me.”
He lets his hands intertwine with yours again, giving them a small squeeze as he fucks you a little faster now and lets his groans shift into small whimpers that escape his lips.
“Please let me cum inside you,” Hyunjin begs, his cock slipping against your cervix with ease as wettened noises of his arousal pooling against yours fill the room. “Please, please, I promise to take care of you, baby. I feel like I belong here.”
He’s a whimpering mess for you now, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he fucks you and lets his hands explore every inch of your body. You want to cry, too, at the realization again that this all feels so tangible, that he makes you feel so seen when he’s hovering over you, placing open-mouthed kisses onto yours and letting his melodic moans fill your ears. The paint between you serving as proof that he’s touched you so desperately and wholly, creating art together in the confined space of your otherwise dull studio. And you want to feel him cum inside you, too, as a final reminder that you’re visible to him, that you’re no longer a fleeting, anonymous artist when you’re with Hyunjin. That he sees you for exactly you are, he knows your deepest secrets, and yet still he holds you, whispering words of permanence in your ear and letting you mold him like art. He’s an artist on his own, and he’s art at the hands of you, both of which draw you to him in ways you can’t begin to fathom, unlike anything you’ve felt before. And he teaches you that you’re an artist on your own, and art at the hands of a lover, both of which you hadn’t considered before Hyunjin, deeming yourself invisible in your comfortable solitude to the vast world around you. But the two coincide to echo the same sentiment that he teaches you exactly the way he also learns from you.
“Cum inside me,” you breathe desperately, grasping his hands a little tighter as he fucks you at a faster pace now.
“Yeah?” Hyunjin confirms, still staving off his orgasm until your verbal consent is heard.
“Yes,” you respond, wrapping your legs around his waist and making your best attempt to kiss him through his release. And you do, your lips moving against his in labored breaths, as he finally twitches inside of you and paints the inside of your listless body, hues of glazed white arousal filling your aching cunt as he whimpers through his orgasm.
“Fuck,” Hyunjin, breathes, giving a few more thrusts as he slows, his arousal dripping onto the tarp below you as he pulls out. And he rolls over to lie beside you, a mess of paint streaks sprawled out along his skin as his chest rises and falls with slowing breaths. The two of you say nothing for a moment, your eyes glued to a blank canvas housed on an easel in front of you.
It’s an almost blinding shade of white, begging for an ounce of color like the shades that now live on your skin. And through your heavy breaths, you picture the endless possibilities that can fill in the empty spaces above you. Grasslands, trees, oceans, clear waters and a vast, endless blue sky…
*
There is no overseas schedule Hyunjin has to tend to. You’re already aware of this, Hyunjin explaining to you that he made it up to put the sessions on hold and to keep Q from pressing him with questions.
But he resumes the sessions after a few weeks of putting them on pause, because he can’t seem to stay away from you any longer.
Hyunjin reckons he has a couple dozen of your paintings in his room now, all similar portraits of his face, portraits you capture in your signature formal essence, his face staring straight ahead or off in the distance, complete with the fine details of his long dark hair and the mole under his eye.
Only now that Hyunjin is back, Q is present at nearly every appointment. You’re not sure why things changed, and Q maintains a new stance to Hyunjin that the guidelines are based on adjusted company policies. But Hyunjin will do just about anything to be close to you- even if it means putting up with your obnoxious boss breathing down your neck every minute while you paint him.
The sessions are somehow even more unnerving than they used to be, Hyunjin still making every valiant effort to convey his obsession with you through intense stares and little gestures only the two of you can read. Q is obstinate in his ways, his gaze constantly flickering between you and your paintings to ensure everything is going swimmingly. But Hyunjin wishes so badly he could spend the entirety of these sessions alone with you, getting to break down your walls and see you for the person he knows you are when you’re not doing portraits under Q’s all-seeing eye.
With every passing day, and every passing session, Hyunjin grows a deep hatred for Q, despising the way he watches you work and chimes in to converse with the two of you. And he knows he shouldn’t, aware that Q is just your boss and nothing more. Something you’ve reiterated to him time and time again, but he can’t help it, desperate to have you all to himself every second of the day, a deep-seated longing to protect you from the hurt you’ve been dealt and wanting so badly for you to break free from the monotonous cycle you’ve confined yourself to of painting for anyone except yourself.
You can tell Hyunjin hates Q, judging by the way he doesn’t so much look in his direction when he arrives for his sessions. But you can’t convey the slightest bit of reaction in front of either of them, too scared of the prospect of what would happen to your career if anyone were to find out you’re fucking a client.
You maintain a professional composure around Hyunjin, despite the knowing stares he gives you and the sketches you catch him slipping into your purse when Q isn’t looking. At times he’s not around, you complete your daily tasks, well-mannered and organized to the clients who hire you, shooting them kind smiles and complimenting their black business attire when they show up for the evening. When the days draw to a close, Q is punctual as always, leaving just minutes past your last appointment and taking his work home with him.
And when his sleek black car turns out of the corner of the parking lot, Hyunjin slips inside like a mere shadow on the wall, quick to seduce you all over again and gift you with all of his recent sketches. Some of them are portraits of you, smiling or focused on your work. Some of them are erotic nude shots of you, lying on the tarp of the studio or touching yourself the way he pictures you do when you’re all alone. And some of them include both of you, your bodies tangled desperately into each other and drowning in your yearning and love. Sometimes nude, his hands on yours and fucking you mercilessly. Sometimes fully clothed, his lips on yours and bundled up in winter clothes. But always together, always desperate in your touches and always so tangible. You reckon he’s persuaded you into being fucked you on every surface of the dingy studio by now- against the canvases, on the tarp- several times, on the table Q typically occupies and just about every stool available to the two of you. And while Q is oblivious about why you stay a little longer every night, Hyunjin is both calculated and persuasive in returning so you two can get some time alone, time that always ends with his seed dripping out of your still-aching cunt, bodies entangled somewhere within the studio and covered in fresh swatches of paint.
He may have somewhat of an obsession with you, but life is teeming around the studio when Hyunjin is near, the colors and shapes of your work much more robust and vibrant when he’s striding around the space commenting on all his favorite pieces of yours. And you relish in stories of his days, typically spent at fan events or at dance practices. Having him return feels like having your physical figure return home to you, the world in complete equilibrium when he’s near, much less lonely than the one you’re used to.
“I could watch you do this forever,” Hyunjin remarks, watching you glide a brush along your canvas, filling in the shadows of a figure on the canvas in front of you.
And this one’s not a portrait- it’s a watercolor figure, much like the ones you used to paint back then, the technique coming back to you with ease as you highlight the convexes of a body mirroring yours and add varying hues as highlights.
Per Hyunjin’s request, you paint the figures occasionally, only because he’s repeatedly expressed his fascination at watching you complete the process in a live session. The paintings reminiscent of your old work aren’t for sale, nor are they critiqued by anyone except for yourself. And they’re certainly not done with the knowledge of Q, who would turn irate at you utilizing the studio’s supplies for anything but portraits.
They’re just for his viewing pleasure, a little exchange you indulge him in as he continues to gift you with sketches of his own.
Hyunjin’s arms snake around your waist as you paint, his head resting on your shoulder as he watches you dip your brush into a mug of water and dilute the caramel shade that taints the bristles.
“Will you add a second one?” Hyunjin asks in a curious whisper, his lips grazing your ear as you paint.
“A second one?” You echo.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, working a trail of kisses down the shell of your ear. “This one’s you. Will you add me?”
You chuckle lightly, dipping your brush into a warmer shade of brown and swirling it around to gather the color on the fine hairs.
“So they can resemble us,” Hyunjin says, his kisses traveling even lower. “Paint me fucking you the way you like it.”
You chuckle softly again, not missing the way Hyunjin’s hands travel to your skirt, flipping it up to graze his hands along the mound of your upper thigh.
“Hyunjin, I-” you begin to say. But you can’t answer him, shutting your eyes in pleasure as you hear him unzip his jeans behind you and position himself.
“Keep painting,” he says in a sultry whisper, pumping himself lightly behind you as he pulls your panties down.
And you try, bringing your brush to the canvas to add a second figure like he’s requested. But you can hardly make it past the first few strokes before Hyunjin’s sliding into your dripping cunt, letting his hands grip your waist to steady himself as he begins to move.
“Go on,” Hyunjin encourages, as his hips thrust in and away from your trembling figure, your hands trying their very best to keep hold of the little wooden paint brush and fill in his form.
You manage to add a subtle few streaks, beginning the amorphous outline of Hyunjin’s hair, his tall lanky figure towering over yours and taking you with such desperation.
But you don’t get very far before Hyunjin is angling your face to kiss your drooly lips, his hands now finding purchase on your breasts as he continues to fuck you. And all of this is wrong, you know very well. You’re not supposed to be sleeping with a client like this, much less one this powerful, this rich and who wields so much he can hold against you. One slip up and Hyunjin can go tell the world about how you’re the artist who disappeared to sell yourself out to rich men for all their selfish needs. And any option you have to defend yourself would never hold up against his wealthy corporation and all its investors.
But you also can’t help but give into his urges when he’s around, his lips so tantalizing on yours and his cock filling you so fully and completely when he has his way with you.
Maybe it’s not even just about the sex for you- maybe it also has something to do with his stories you live through vicariously, listening to tales of the outside world while you’re trapped in this studio or at the businesses of wealthy men. It’s also the drawings he makes for you, ones you find yourself staring at for hours after he leaves, like proof that he was here and he touched you. The drawings are you in your most tangible form, his hands on yours and his lips on the curves of your neck. It’s like a glimpse into a version of yourself that ceases to exist when he’s absent. And it’s the late hours of the night he spends asking so politely to watch you paint your older work, always so fascinated with the way your mind conjures up varying lonely figures crafted from watercolors and a nylon bristle brush. Older work you hadn’t realized you missed so dearly until you began producing it for Hyunjin again.
But you know that to Hyunjin this is just a exhilarating idea for him, to view your art the same way he carves out a couple hours each week for a museum tour or to sketch in one of his books. He probably finds it more convenient to fuck you here where nobody’s around than to stroke himself in a dorm he shares with three other men. And you can feel it in the way he so desperately pleads you to paint for him or cum for him- that his obsession with you is less about you, and more about the thought of you.
Maybe this is just the result of Hyunjin uncovering a secret nobody else paid close enough attention to connect you to. Or the thrill of you being his favorite artist for years, and realizing you’re finally tangible in front of him, real, and not disappeared like he previously took you for. You reckon it must be the same phenomenon other girls feel toward him, getting intimate with somebody they idolize, desperately cupping his face like it might dissipate if they don’t grasp hard enough. But just the thought of somebody doesn’t imply love. It doesn’t imply a mutual understanding, and it certainly doesn’t imply permanence for either party involved. When he’s gone again, you’ll cease to be real like you already are when he’s not around. And then every vision you have will be rooted in unfaltering solitude once more, your anonymous life resuming again.
“Will you cum for me?” Hyunjin asks, and you snap back to the feeling of his cock twitching in your dripping cunt as he grips your waist. “God, you don’t understand what you do to me.”
You can’t give him an answer before you feel him reaching his release inside of you, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into you and slowing his pace again as he moves your hair away from your face.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Hyunjin says sheepishly as he pulls out. “Sit down for me,” he orders between kisses to your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, grazing his hands along your waist and groaning against you.
And he’s already guiding you back to one of the stools, kneeling between your legs and spreading you for him, your glistening cunt on full display for him to taste.
“Want you to cum for me,” Hyunjin whispers, before positioning one of your legs on the wooden dowels of the stool. You can’t verbalize anything to him before his tongue is darting into your entrance, lapping his own release out of you and trailing up to give attention to your swollen clit. He works you in such desperate motions, tongue working your core like a starved animal and eagerly trying to coax an orgasm out of your trembling body. When his arousal is effectively brought out of your tight cunt and painting the tip of his tongue white, he coats your clit in it, giving kitten licks to your bundle of nerves as he hums against your flesh and whispers little pleas for you to let go.
And between your pussy still clenching down around the sheer memory of his cock inside of you mere minutes ago, and his plump lips kissing all over your wettened core, you do let go for him, dribbling cum down the edge of the wooden stool and threading your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down to your thighs in encouragement.
“So good,” Hyunjin murmurs as he comes up for air, intertwining his fingers in yours as you get cleaned up. You shoot him a little “thank you”, and Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand as he nods, getting dressed once more and tucking his softened cock back into his boxers.
“Come here,” he states. “I want to ask you something.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“It’s exciting,” Hyunjin retorts.
He guides you to his same wooden stool, where he climbs upon the seat and then takes your hands in his again as you stand in front of him, pressing a small kiss to your palm before speaking.
“You know I care about you, right?” He begins, his eyebrows raised curiously.
“You’ve mentioned it,” you reply.
“And you know I love your art.”
“So you’ve told me,” you say, and Hyunjin brings your hand up to press another kiss to your palm.
“I have a proposal for you,” he then says. “And I just want you to hear me out.”
Your heart sinks at his words, already fearing the worst as you wait for him to elaborate. You pray he hasn’t done anything to reveal your identity, or to make these secret erotic sessions public, knowing you’d both never live a normal life again at either of the instances occurring.
“What is it?” You ask Hyunjin, heart racing in your chest.
He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand soothingly, trying to calm you down before he speaks.
“I privately sponsor the art gallery every year,” he begins. “I put some funding toward a painting of my choice and it allows those artists to have their pieces displayed for the winter show and make connections,” he continues.
“Okay…”
“And I want to sponsor you this year,” Hyunjin finishes, giving your hands a little squeeze.
“Hyunjin, there can't be an installment of your face at the art museum. People will get suspicious.”
“Not my face,” he says reassuringly. “Your art. Like the ones you used to do.”
And you feel your throat dry up at his words, the exact thing you’d feared coming to fruition.
“I can’t,” you’re quick to say.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t do those paintings anymore. I can paint you, or another person or whoever. But I can’t do one of my old ones.”
“But your old ones are beautiful,” Hyunjin says. “It doesn’t have to be your old series. You can start a new one. Do something entirely different.”
“I don’t want to do something entirely different, Hyunjin. It’s a chapter of my life that’s been closed already. You know I don’t do those anymore.”
Hyunjin maintains his collected composure, his eyes softening as he speaks to you.
“You’re not happy doing portraits. I know you. You have a spark in you when you’re painting for yourself, and people love them. You deserve to be doing what you love.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, letting go of Hyunjin’s grasp and shaking your head. “I’m so grateful for the offer, but I can’t put myself back out there again.”
“You can still be anonymous,” Hyunjin offers. “Some artists I’ve sponsored choose to remain anonymous and only reveal to serious patrons of their art. I can make sure they don’t find out who you are.”
“It’s me and my art I don’t want to be seen,” you emphasize.
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything now, rising from the wooden stool and reaching for the iced coffee he’s placed on the table beside you.
“Okay. I won’t press it any further.”
He swirls the cup of ice around in his hand, and then he hangs his head in defeat.
“Hyunjin, seriously. Thank you for the offer. It’s sweet of you to consider it. But I’m not ready yet.”
He shoves a hand in his pocket and cocks his head slightly.
“Is this because of Quinton?”
“What? Hyunjin, I already told you our relationship is strictly professional-”
“Not romantically,” Hyunjin continues. “You’re like a slave to him. You do everything he tells you to do. He probably doesn’t let you leave this studio.
You’re quiet again, not answering him immediately. No, you don’t stay here at Q’s behest. But it just feels safer to follow his advice. He was just a client when you met him, but he took you under his wing to get you where you are now. He runs all your schedules, he books your appointments for you, he even gives his say on most of your work. He’s the only part of your old life that’s remained the same, despite your transition to portraits, and cutting him off would be stepping into a world completely unbeknownst to you.
“No,” you say finally, but you don’t expand further upon your stance.
“You’re so lonely here,” Hyunjin responds frustratedly. “And yet you follow orders from the same person whose job it is to keep you invisible.”
“Why should I follow your orders?” You retort.
“Because I love you.”
“You don’t love me, Hyunjin,” you reply frustratedly, finally feeling the anger overtake you as you continue your angered speech. “You love the idea of me. You love the idea of escaping your crazy rich life to try and resolve the tortured artist you’re so infatuated with. You love the idea of fulfilling somebody’s life with your presence because it’s all you do for a career. I’m not the person I was when I was doing those paintings- I do portraits now, and I work under somebody who knows what’s best for me. And you’re just a client I’m sleeping with.”
Hyunjin purses his lips, amused you would stoop that low for the purposes of declining his offer. And then he shakes his head as he speaks again.
“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’m just some client you’re sleeping with. I never tried to push you out of this line of work you hate so much, or drew you on every page of my sketch book or made love to you in every square inch of this goddamn studio. I’m not proposing this because I care about you and I want you to do what you love, it’s because I’m just a client you’re sleeping with.”
And he pivots on his heel to exit the studio, taking rushed steps toward the door as tears brim the corners of your eyes.
“Hyunjin, wait,” you call desperately.
“I see you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, turning around to face you. “I see all of you. Your work didn’t just materialize by some anonymous form. You’re a painter, a really talented one, and I don’t want you to feel this all-consuming solitude anymore. I say that because I love you, not just because I’m sleeping with you. If you want to remain invisible to everybody except Quinton, then be my guest. Just know that I tried.”
And without another word, the studio is empty again, the tip of your brush still dripping with the remnants of the warm brown color and every intention to add a second figure to your painting.
*
You don’t speak with Hyunjin any more that evening. Or the next day. Or perhaps for a whole week following the conversation, for that matter. The reality is that you want to partake in his offer, the thought of it candidly piquing your interest to paint something other than another rich man. And it would be nice to watch your art be displayed for people to see just once, rather than to live on the walls of a company where only people within a certain tax bracket will ever grace your work. But what you reiterated to Hyunjin still stands- you’re scared to venture out into the competitive world of art galleries again. Your old series was a hit, sure, but it was also torn down relentlessly by those who didn’t understand it and those who simplified it down to its medium. And it was a much harder endeavor to make people understand your watercolor forms, unlike the portraits Q advises you continue producing.
But you can’t seem to stop thinking of Hyunjin’s proposal as a whole, understanding very well that his offer is one of the kindest things he could propose to you at this place in your life. He sees you- all of you, and subsequently he knows that you’re unhappy in this monotonous abyss of adding new features to the same faces every day. The way a change for you is determined only by a shift in a client’s pose or even just an addition of their pet- it’s all so repetitive, exactly what art isn’t supposed to be.
Maybe you’re just scared of getting rejected again, or perhaps it’s that you’re scared of finally being seen again, anonymous or not, putting yourself on the map again and being perceived.
*
“I want a painting,” Hyunjin says as he saunters into the studio one evening, throwing off his bag and dragging a stool to the middle of the room.
“Oh- Hyunjin, pleased to see you again,” Q remarks, bowing and giving you a nervous look.
Hyunjin doesn’t even acknowledge him, keeping a stern gaze locked on yours as if he’s challenging you.
“We have the evening booked today,” Q begins. “But I’m sure we can accommodate something for next week-”
“I need it now,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m willing to pay five times your asking price.”
And you narrow your eyes at Hyunjin, knowing he’s making his best attempt to provoke you and disrupt the work you’re completing per Q’s orders.
“How do you want it?” Q then asks, not hesitating to put aside your entire evening for Hyunjin’s offer.
“I want to be in a suit. And I want to be holding a wad of cash. I want to look like an investor.”
“Interesting,” Q says, his gaze flickering to yours. “She can do it though.”
Q turns to face you, giving you a knowing look as he raises his eyebrows. “I’ll clear your calendar for today and we can stay and work on this piece.”
And Hyunjin looks to you, too, waiting for you to protest, to say something along the lines of a refusal to partake in the outlandish task. But you avert both of their gazes, readying your paint palette and gesturing to one of the stools in front of you.
“Have a seat,” you say plainly, void of any emotion or desire to fulfill the task. And by the way Q hovers over you, void of autonomy, too, Hyunjin concludes.
“How are things at the company?” Q asks Hyunjin, leaning in a little too close to you as you begin painting long strokes on the canvas.
“Fine,” Hyunjin says, not taking his gaze off yours. His eyes are narrowed like he’s challenging you, yet you don’t give him the reaction he searches for.
“You must be busy,” Q remarks, his hands folded behind his back. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you’re running her schedule like the fucking military,” Hyunjin retorts, cocking an eyebrow at him. Q takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t argue, doing his best to keep in line at your highest-paying client.
“She’s pretty busy,” Q replies reluctantly. “But it’s nothing she can’t handle.”
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, again waiting for you to chime in, but you still don’t, working on adding details to Hyunjin’s tresses on the canvas.
“This will be my final session,” Hyunjin then says, and your head snaps to meet his gaze.
“Is that so?” Q questions. “Going overseas again?”
“Indefinitely,” Hyunjin replies. “Not overseas, I’ve just no need for the paintings anymore.”
Your lips part as though to ask if he’s serious, but you can’t, not with Q here alongside you.
“I have so many of them now,” Hyunjin remarks, not taking his eyes off you. “It’s been a lovely time with the two of you, but I won’t be returning after this evening. I hope you understand.”
“Please don’t hesitate to reach out if there’s anything we can provide you with,” Q voices. “I hope we’ll remain connected with the peers at your company.”
“Oh, you will,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m sure the investors and the senior managers will love portraits of their own. She’ll have a lifetime of portraits to complete when I’m gone.”
You can feel a pit forming in your stomach, queasy at the thought of carrying on this task of capturing rich businessmen and ceasing your sessions with Hyunjin. He’s unmoving in his attempts to make you revisit your old art. But his begging has also been eye-opening, making you realize just how much you hate this line of work and having Q breathe down your neck.
Hyunjin has a point, you’re unhappy doing portraits. You love the watercolor figures you paint, you love your time with Hyunjin and the feeling of unending curiosity he instills in you. There’s no solitude when he’s around, filling every aspect of your life with such color and vibrancy like the figures you paint. And you learn from him just as much as he learns from you.
But the fear remains, the feeling of hopelessness remains, the perception that Hyunjin is only obsessed with an idea of you and that your career is far gone from the watercolor figures you painted so long ago.
And of course, that you require Q’s uncompromising presence in your life to be even close to successful. He’s the one who transitioned you to a successful career of portraits after your previous line of work fell through. And you’re not sure you can shift to a new focus without him to guide you.
“Hyunjin,” you say suddenly, garnering the attention of both he and Q.
“What is it?” Q replies, as though you’re referring to him. And you wish he wouldn’t be so… disruptive, making you lose your train of thought as Hyunjin waits for your words with bated breath.
“I’ve completed the initial outline,” you settle on saying. “It should be sent over to you in a couple days.”
And he nods, a somber, thin-lipped expression on his face as he understands you’re never going to divert from this path of fear you walk, one you’re forcing yourself to stick to.
“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, getting up to leave again. “I’ll see you around.”
*
Private events are seldom actually private for Hyunjin. The interior of the gallery is organized accordingly so that patrons can mingle with their respective artists and all of the prestigious guests invited.
But the exterior is only private up the crowd control stanchions, where beyond it live hordes of people wielding all sorts of fancy cameras and cell phones, snapping photo after photo and analyzing every one of Hyunjin’s movements.
Hyunjin’s attending an art gallery today, the crowds murmur amongst each other, the message echoing all over the city and overshadowing the art itself, which hasn’t even been unveiled yet.
His departure from the black limousine he arrives in is met instantly with deafening screams, the repetitive click of camera shutters and commands for him to angle his face every which way. The people stop to stare at his fitted black suit, the long black hair he sports styled slick out of his face and expensive jewelry he flaunts as a clear indicator that he’s a sponsor of the evening’s show, alongside a long list of other wealthy individuals.
His hands remain tucked in the pockets of his black slacks, giving a gracious bow to the fans before making his way inside to the main event.
And the gallery is significantly more packed than he’s used to, people crowding every square inch of the marbled floors and admiring the intricate pieces of art. The curtains are pulled back neatly so that guests can roam freely among the halls, easels set up in neat rows and canvases mounted on walls to display all the sponsored works of art.
Hyunjin is quick to gravitate to the long white table pushed against the wall by the entrance, set up with generous servings of hors d’oeuvres. And in a bout of nervousness, he’s sampling the cheese platters and the varying flavors of wine, sighing as he swirls a glass of cherry merlot between his slender fingers.
He was supposed to be here sponsoring you tonight, unveiling your paintings for the world to appreciate once again, and so that he’d finally put forth the notion that you’re more than the halls of law offices your portraits exist in.
But that was three weeks ago now- three weeks in which Hyunjin failed to visit you like he’d warned he would. And three weeks in which neither of you reconnected, letting the temporary affair between you dissipate like the sketches he stopped producing of you, like the portraits he finished collecting from you. And like the hope he held onto that maybe you’d come around and entertain a life in which you aren’t so comfortable being invisible and inhibited at the hands of your Q. But that never came around, and although Hyunjin is frustrated with you, he misses you just as much, knowing very well he could spend a lifetime learning from you if only you let him. Now in the gallery he once dragged you to, where he admitted to having learned the secret you hid, he can only pray you know that he sees you for who you are, and not some invisible producer of your static portraits. That a life lived in complete solitude doesn’t have to be the answer to succumbing to your fears, even if it feels more comfortable than the perception and the critiques of others. And that although the idea of you was a lovely one indeed, he loves every part of you, not just the concept of you- and pushing you to grow was his way of making it known.
The gallery hosts are quick to introduce the paintings and their respective sponsors, a variety of them being under anonymous titles and names as they choose to remain hidden, too. But Hyunjin doesn’t wait around to listen to much of it, examining the paintings on his own in between nervous trips to the snack table, where he gets tipsy off a little too much cherry wine. It’s his first time not being a sponsor to a specific painting, instead having opted to donate a large sum to the gallery in his company’s name. But after you declined his invitation to be sponsored, Hyunjin didn’t see it fit to highlight the work of any other painting. It’s you he wants to see up there, proudly showing off your work and making a name for yourself in the industry again the way he knows you secretly want to. And he so badly wishes he could stop by your studio one last time to tell you that he’s not sure he can ever sponsor another painting again if it’s not one of yours. Your art circles his mind relentlessly, as do your words, your heart, your body and your real, tangible presence.
“Nice, isn’t it?” A voice says from beside Hyunjin. He almost jumps, the wine making him a little tired at this point in the evening, not having socialized with many people while he stands in the corner of the room and takes in the sight.
“Quinton?” Hyunjin voices plainly, scowling at his uptight demeanor as he leans against the table beside Hyunjin and crosses his legs.
“So nice to see our former highest-painting client,” Q responds. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ve never seen you at one of these,” Hyunjin chimes in. He then looks around the room frantically, thinking maybe you’d accompanied him to the event tonight.
“Don’t bother,” Q says, as he takes a sip of wine. “I’m alone. Just scoping out the competition.”
He’s quiet for a moment, swirling his glass of wine around in his hand before speaking again.
“She never had a portrait at one of these gallery shows. Said they felt too commercial. Of course her old stuff was shown just about everywhere. I think she was just scared.”
“You mean- you knew?” Hyunjin questions.
“Of course I knew. I led her career’s entire rebranding. Of course she didn’t love the portraits, but the money came to us like you wouldn’t believe. And coupled with her fear of these gallery walks and important figures, we had no choice but to compromise. I got her the opportunity to paint people like you. And she did all the work.”
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply shaking his head and crossing his legs, too.
“She had a lot of people who believed in her art.”
Q shrugs. “She was free to walk whenever she wanted. Her fear kept her controlled, not me. I’m just another businessman for all she cares.”
And Hyunjin gives a small nod, finishing the last of his wine.
“Look, I can’t help but feel like I owe you an apology,” Hyunjin says finally. “I was just a little jealous whenever you were around. Not that there was anything going on, I just mean-”
“You think you’re the first client to have taken a liking to her?” Q interrupts. “I’ve seen it a million times. People want to take advantage and they get obsessed, and they start pulling crazy shit like offering five times the pay for a simple portrait.”
Q looks down to examine his leather shoes, adjusting the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose. And then he sighs frustratedly before speaking again.
“I would know,” Q then says, doing his best to avert Hyunjin’s gaze. “She’s a tough one to crack. She loves her paintings, and being alone and I don’t think she’d ever give the time of day to a good man. Not even if he followed her to her next endeavor.”
Hyunjin nods at the marbled floor, and then his head snaps in the direction of Q’s somber gaze.
The way he speaks of you, the way he gets a little too close to you for Hyunjin’s liking- Hyunjin finally thinks he understands. It’s not just the fear of being perceived that keeps you from picking up your old life again. It’s the fear of abandoning Q, who so arrogantly feels like he’s owed something for helping get you back on your feet after you shifted your work’s focus.
He’s the only other person who knows your secret, and he holds it over you like it makes him more important than anyone else in your life. He reduces you to a lifetime of following his orders, likely because he’s bitter that he was never the solution to your loneliness. A wealthy businessman himself, it was Q who kept returning for paintings once not long ago, accumulating piles of your work and making every last effort to pursue you. But when he wasn’t successful, he convinced you that you were right about your fears, that it was your best move to take his advice and he’d keep you turning a generous profit as long as you stuck by him. Q was so hopelessly devoted to an idea of you, and when he couldn’t help you overcome your fears, he became the catalyst for your fears, instead.
“You and I are a lot of the same,” Q voices. “Two rich men with dreams just out of our reach. It seems money can’t buy you everything, after all.”
Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, swallowing nervously and looking at Q. And then Q shakes his head as he sets his glass of wine down on the table.
“Only I’ve never seen her willingly paint the same client so many times the way she does with you,” he finishes. “I guess she really liked being seen, after all.”
Q adjusts his glasses once more, and Hyunjin feels his heart sink at Q’s words, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty for not having contacted you again.
“Could you tell her I stopped by?” Hyunjin inquires.
“Me? Oh no,” Q begins. “I can’t get in contact with her. No one can.”
“You- what? What do you mean?”
“Exactly that,” Q responds. “She told me she was done, and she walked out on me with a single watercolor palette and a notepad. She didn’t say anything else.”
“Did she say where she was going?” Hyunjin interrupts to ask, and Q shakes his head.
“She just left, and it’s been almost a month and she’s still MIA. Maybe she’ll come crawling back when she needs another rebranding.”
Hyunjin can feel his heart sinking deeper and deeper with every passing word that leaves Q’s lips.
He’s tried your cell phone- twice since leaving, and you never answered. But he assumed it to be a fleeting argument that would eventually make amends in due time when he could stomach visiting the studio again- not you running away from all of this for good.
“I have to go,” Hyunjin says frantically, chugging the rest of his wine and slamming his glass on the table.
“It was me who found her the first time,” Q says, not taking his eyes off the art across the room.
“What?”
“It was me who chased after her. After she disappeared. Don’t be surprised if she shuts you out when you finally do find her- I think I’ve already scarred her enough with my relentless attempts at persuasion.”
Hyunjin nods nervously, watching as Q cocks his head at the art, still averting Hyunjin’s gaze. And when he finally does turn to look at him, his eyes are glossy with tears, guilt painting every feature on his face.
“Could you just tell her I’m sorry?”
Hyunjin nods, though he makes no verbal promise to relay the message to you.
“Don’t do what I did,” Q emphasizes. “I think you’re the one person who makes her feel like art, herself. Don’t ruin this.”
*
“I forgot my ID today,” Hyunjin remarks to the security guard in the late hours of the evening. He’s met with a gracious bow, the same security guard opening the door and ushering him inside anyway.
“Don’t worry about it. Take as long as you need.”
The security guards all know Hyunjin very well now, taking note of the way his visits increased tenfold following your departure from the city.
At first he felt as though maybe he was searching for you when he’d come out here, any ounce of proof that you had indeed existed the way he remembered, and hopeful for the confirmation that you moved on to something new.
But as paintings cycled through their respective artists, and exhibits cycled through varying themes, it was a confirmation he never received, never finding a hint of you among the gallery. Thus, Hyunjin drew the hopeful conclusion that you’d escaped to a nicer city, worked on your old paintings again and made a new life for yourself, independently instead of under the overbearing presence of any other man. It’s what he wishes, at least, feeling disheartened every time he remembers you’ve very seldom lived any part of your professional career for yourself only.
The gallery is quiet at this hour, akin to the silent gray evening beyond its walls, and Hyunjin’s shoes squeak along the floors as he makes his way over to the curtains that veil the artwork.
New sculptures, by the same artist who had formed the paper mache ones. These ones are formed from wire and clay, the figures once again embracing each other in tender touches and dances. Hyunjin studies every careful bend and arch, making a mental note to sketch some of them when he gets a chance.
Another room houses a similar spread of modern art from before, these ones all coinciding with the warm lighting that hangs overhead, strokes along the canvases all housing similar warm-toned hues. He knows you’d love this installment and its careful attention to making use of color.
And the last room, the same little room behind a curtain, a small bench in front of a colossal canvas and just barely lit for his eyes to make out the scene.
Hyunjin’s seated before he can even examine the artwork, squinting carefully at the painting to get a better look. He even makes a conscious decision to put on his black frame glasses, making every attempt to get a proper look at the artwork in front of him.
Diluted hues of paint and water dance along the canvas, figured outlines he’s very familiar with, and the essence of solitude radiating from every brush stroke. Only this one isn’t one figure- it’s two, a warm-toned figure and a cool-toned outline holding each other in a tender embrace, their faces indistinguishable, true to the mystery of your work.
And between them, bright hues of paint, yellows, blues, magentas, fantastic mixtures of chartreuse and vermillion, all painted like brush strokes along their yearning bodies and illustrating a profound sense of togetherness, much more robust than the ever-present solitude.
“Visions of you in solitude,” reads the small bronze beneath the canvas.
As he cocks his head to make sense of the painting, he feels the leather of the bench dip beside him, indicating the presence of another patron. And at this hour, he doesn’t need to turn his head to understand who it is.
“There’s two,” Hyunjin says with a small smile, not averting his gaze from the painting.
“It felt incomplete without one.”
“Is that…”
“You?” You question quietly.
He nods in response, eyes scanning the swatches of paint between their bodies. It has to be me, he thinks. It has to be us.
“Maybe it is,” you reply. “I don’t disclose my processes to just about anyone. But you’re welcome to make your assumptions how you see fit.”
Hyunjin gives a breathy chuckle, finally turning to meet your gaze.
You look lighter- happier, as though you have the weight of your fears and reservations off your shoulders for once. Hyunjin can’t help but lean a little closer into you before stopping himself, knowing he can’t come in here to mirror the same thing Q once did long ago.
“You’re doing galleries,” he settles on saying.
“And they scare the hell out of me,” you respond, huffing a little at the end of your sentence. “But, it is nice to be seen again.”
He gives a little nod, and then his mind goes back to Q, who had asked to relay his version of an apology to you. But Hyunjin hesitates to speak of him, not wanting to taint your new art with the mentions of the old businessmen who took advantage of you.
“I’d have kept my distance if I knew how this went down the first time,” Hyunjin explains, hoping you’ll get what he implies. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to shift your focus. I just wanted you to be happy.”
You sigh for a moment, scanning the painting across from you, too, before turning to speak to him once more.
“Of all the clients I’ve painted, you were the first to ask about my vision. I think you do see me. And I think it was easier to say you loved an idea of me, because I couldn’t understand why you’d love any other part.”
Hyunjin nods, not taking his eyes off of yours.
“I learn from you the same way you learned from me,” you continue. “And you make me feel so seen. But I’m learning how to do that without needing you, too. Getting comfortable with my loneliness, I don’t think it’s something I was able to practice very much. At least not with…”
Hyunjin nods, not needing to hear Q’s name to know who you speak of.
“I understand,” Hyunjin voices. “And I want you to take all the time that you need. What matters is that you feel fulfilled, and that you’re not being pushed at the hands of somebody else. That’s more than enough for me to love you at a distance.”
And you nod at him, your heart swelling at his words as he turns to look back at the painting once more. The two of you stay there like that for several minutes, observing the way you’ve so carefully captured the togetherness you feel when you’re beside him. Swatches of paints that echo the color he brings into your life, and yet rooted in the solitude you’re still learning to be comfortable with. Visions of him in your own solitude, also creating a version of yourself that will continue to learn from him as much as he learns from you. And still art at the hands of him, both when you’re loving him wholly, and at this comfortable distance from each other.
And by the summer months, he’ll love you at a close proximity when you’re ready again, exchanging passionate embraces behind the curtains at galleries and making love to you in your shared apartment. He’ll continue to draw for you, and remain the biggest fan of the two-piece figures you illustrate with watercolors, capturing the same sense of togetherness and yet unwavering solitude that comes with breaking yourself down to the world around you. And the love will be reciprocated unconditionally by you, who finally feels seen at the hands of somebody who perceives you beyond just a concept.
But for now, he’ll remain right here, at this comfortable distance, allowing himself to learn from you as much as you learn from him. And the love will be undemanding, but it will be real, tangible.
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maybe like a hot roomate smut,? y/n and hyunjin are roomates for a while now but they barely interact and talk. one day late at night while y/n is drinking water in their shared kitchen (in just panties and a oversized shirt) hyunjin barges in for a midnight snack too (shirtless as he was sleeping) they both awkwardly bump into eachother seeing each other in such less clothing but they finally suck it up and have a good deep convo for the 1st time as roomates and they get to know a lot abt eachother. just to mention y/n is sitting on the kitchen counter while hyun is standing and the sexual tension arises mid convo. can this smut be limited to dry humping and tons of marking lolol
SPILLED TEA — HYUNJIN.
pairing: hyunjin x reader(afab)
genre: smut, NSFW
warnings: dry humping, tons of marking as requested
a/n: first hyunjin request completed YAY
your mind felt so heavy. it’s been hours since you tried to fall asleep, but nothing helped. normally, you would’ve masturbated and immediately dozed off. but now, since you moved in with this weird guy hyunjin, you couldn’t do that. the walls were too thin and the thought of another guy in the apartment did not help you relax.
it was a shared apartment that you rented, the only one available within your budget. so you had to close your eyes at the fact that you had to live with a guy.
your expectations were low, but it turned out completely opposed to what you were expecting. it felt like hyunjin was not even there. you never knew when he was home. most of the times he was drawing his university assignments in his room and occasionally coming to the kitchen to cook something.
you didn’t mind it at all. honestly, it was even better that you barely saw each other. but when you did… it was awkward as hell.
tired of tossing and turning in bed, you left your room. the only thing that could help you clear your mind right now would be a glass of fresh water.
the kitchen air was so cold compared to your comfy bed, it made you shiver and wrap your hands around yourself. the bills for heating were atrocious, so you and hyunjin agreed to turn it off completely for the night. your skin immediately filled with goosebumps, as you were only wearing an oversized shirt.
“oh! i thought you were asleep, sorry.”
you heard a voice behind you when you almost emptied the glass.
hyunjin.
“it’s okay, i’m already leaving.” you cleared your throat out of awkwardness and turned around, looking at the direction of the sound, only for your eyes to land on hyunjin’s bare chest.
your jaw dropped to the floor. hyunjin was standing in front on you in a pajama pants only with his abs grabbing all your attention. it was so hard to look away, when the muscles were so tight and well-defined, with a prominent v-line disappearing after the waistband. the pants were barely holding on his hips, making it look like they could fall down any second and reveal his dick. the outline of it was so distinct too. he looked so hot that it had heat forming between your thighs. you were so engrossed in looking at his body that you didn't even notice how he came closer.
“sorry- can i-“ his voice was raspy as if he just woke up. the next thing you knew, he grabbed you by the waist for a split second to move you out of the way.
this small act already gave you another wave of goosebumps. it was embarrassing how loud you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. what was it with you today? did your pussy unleash only because you saw him half-naked?
“maybe we should turn on the heating for the night too.”
“what?”
huynjin pointed at your goosebumps.
“ah!” you laughed awkwardly. “no, it’s not that cold in my room, so it’s fine.”
hyunjin nodded. “same. that’s why i can sleep naked comfortably.”
“you… sleep naked?” you almost choked on your spit.
you’ve never had a full conversation before, and now he shared the most random info with you out of the blue?
“yeah. did you know that’s really good for your body?” he replied confidently like it was a well-known fact.
what you were sure of now was that the thought of him sleeping naked wouldn't get out of your head for a long time.
“i’m sorry.” hyunjin smiled. “i’m oversharing.”
“no-no!” you waved your hands. “i’m happy to talk with you! we actually never had a proper talk since i moved in.”
“you’re right. i thought about this too.” he nodded, turning a kettle on. “tea?”
”sure.” you smiled back, hopping onto the countertop.
it didn't hide from hyunjin how your t-shirt slightly pulled up, exposing your bare thighs. he swallowed nervously and turned away, taking out the mugs.
“tell me about yourself.” you said, wiggling your feet.
“ugh-“ his voice trembled a little. “i’m in arts major. i love to draw, but sometimes i feel like i’m doing it only to pass the class. you probably noticed that i’m always in my room. that’s because i don’t even have the energy to go out somewhere.” he handled you the mug.
“no, i get it. but i feel like you should force yourself to go out, or you’ll be stuck in this condition forever.”
hyunjin nodded, leaning on the counter next to you. “what about you, though?”
“mhm… i study in the same uni as you, i’m a second year. i’m very short on money, so that’s why i moved in with you…”
“ah right. i thought you saw a picture of me on the ad and decided to get closer to me this way.” he grinned.
“excuse me?!” you both laughed.
the mood has completely changed, and for the first time since you moved in, you felt comfortable being around hyunjin.
“fuck!” you yelled out of pain as the hot tea spilled on your thighs. you were laughing so hard that you tilted the mug.
“oh shit!” hyunjin’s reaction was quick. he immediately grabbed the towel and placed it on your thighs, rubbing it to collect all the liquid. “does it hurt?”
“not that much. i think i got scared more than in actually hurts.” you answered after the shock state disappeared, accessing the situation you’ve got yourself it.
hyunjin stood between your legs, with his hands on your thighs. obviously, there was a towel between you, but it didn’t help the way your breath quickened. suddenly, you’ve forgotten how to think, your brain became mushy and your skin was burning from the light touch.
hyunjin looked at you will a deep worry on his face. “are you sure you are okay? i can grab some ice if you ne-“
you didn’t let him walk away, taking his hand and placing it back on your thigh. your cheeks flushed out of embarrassment, but you couldn’t control yourself anymore.
hyunjin looked at you for a moment and then his lips curved into a smile as he squeezed your thighs. you felt week in the knees again. he wasn’t smirking, instead, he was giving you a smile of assurance that made you want him even more.
watching how your body reacted to him was embarrassing. you became so touch starved all of a sudden and your neediness was out in the open for him to see. the towel went flying somewhere while his hands remained resting on your soft skin.
hyunjin was so close that you could smell the scent of his cologne. surely you’ve smelt his perfume before - it was standing right on the shelf in the bathroom, but it was different now. his face was right next to yours for the first time. he licked his lips, hands never leaving your thighs. you could swear hyunjin was doing it on purpose just to tease you. and you had to admit it was working.
surprisingly, his close presence didn’t make you want to run away back to your room. but the way his eyes scanned you so intensely made you shiver.
he was waiting for you to say something before he could continue. you could see his gaze shifting between your eyes and lips, and it made you close your eyes in reflex.
a second later, you felt his warm breath on your cheek as his hands caressed up your thighs. a whimper stuck in your throat.
it felt like an eternity has passed before you felt his lips on yours – touching you so softly, you were not even sure it was really happening.
hyunjin licked past your parted lips and sucked on the bottom one between his teeth. his stomach fluttered at the whimper you made, making him want to taste you more, hear you more, feel your plush lips on his more, nip at your bottom lip until your were breathless. but the feeling of his throbbing dick pressing against his pants got him too desperate.
he was hard and so horny.
a loud whine left you as hyunjin’s lips just barely bit the sensitive spot on your neck. he continued to leave marks all over your skin, while the pads of his fingers lightly touched the wet spot on your panties. your legs were already spread wide, but it seemed like it wasn’t his intentions.
instead of taking you right on the counter, he started humping his clothed crotch against your leg. he wasn’t wearing any underwear since he just woke up, so you could clearly feel his hard dick twitching in his pants. the downright sinful view of him fucking your leg like some dog in heat was something you thought you’d never be able to forget.
“you look so hot, with your legs spread just for me.” goosebumps ran all over your skin when he murmured against it.
his hand squeezed your thigh again, dangerously close to the hem of your panties, as he dragged his nose up to your jaw and left another bite, pressing a soft kiss right after.
you shifted in place, unable to remain calm, when he was all over you like that. your gaze fell down on your leg again and you gasped. his cock was leaking so hard with precum that it already left a big wet stain all over his crotch. you could feel the wetness of the fabric with your own skin.
you were about to offer him your mouth instead, but got cut off with his fingers playing with the hem of your panties.
hyunjin pressed another kiss on your neck and you leaned your head to the side to give him better access. he was too focused on giving and receiving pleasure, he didn’t even think of teasing you about how easily you gave yourself to him. he moved further down your neck as his fingers circled over the wet spot on your panties. you were so soaked.
your skin tingled in places where he touched you. soft whines were leaving your mouth as you spread your legs impossibly wide, just so you could feel his long fingers on your clothed pussy. your breathing became erratic and you could swear you’ve never been so turned on. but to be fair, you’ve never had a guy dry humping your leg.
“you like that?” he hummed, while his lips were adding new marks and bites on your neck.
“please- need more.” you thought you were about to go crazy if he wouldn’t fuck you soon.
“not now.”
“but whyyy?” you pouted.
hyunjin didn’t respond, making you forget the question with his fingers moving in circles over your still clothed clit.
all you could do was whine his name as he sucked sweet little lovebites all over your neck. his hips started to jerk up faster, wet fabric brushing over his already red, throbbing cock; and it was a signal that he was so close to cumming.
you were panting and absolutely soaking through your underwear. your could already feel the mess you created between your legs. your slick must’ve been smeared all over your folds, and you wanted nothing more than to have hyunjin’s fingers in there. the orgasm was building much slower than usual, but all you could do was just obey and let him fuck your leg dry.
as soon as his thrusts against your legs became rougher, his fingers began to press harder on your clit. you didn't feel like you were still wearing underwear anymore - your panties were so soaked. his skilled continued to circle around your throbbing clit and pleasure was so overwhelming it made your cheeks burn.
the look on hyunjin’s face was absolutely disheveled. he was like a painting himself with his eyes closed and lips parted in pleasure. the dick in his pants was receiving so much please from the way the wet fabric clung tightly to the head. he was so whiny and his voice kept cracking with each thrust.
“‘m cumming!” after the last few humps against your leg, hyunjin finally came with a loud moan.
even thought the pace of his fingers slowed down, you were working yourself up with the circling motions of your own hips. the sight of him cumming and your name leaving his pretty lips, made you go off the edge too. your entire body clenched while you moaned loudly from all the pleasure you were feeling. hyunjin pressed his fingers harder on your clit, helping you through your orgasm.
there was nothing but the sound of two of you breathing loudly, trying to figure out what just happened. no one wanted to start the conversation again.
hyunjin found a solution by starting to leave another series on lovebites on your neck.
“hyunjin-“ you moaned. you still haven’t recovered from the orgasm, but his lips felt too good on your skin for you to stop him.
“hm?”
“i still want you…” you breathed out, a flush spread across your cheeks.
“well… my pants are ruined. wanna help me clean myself in the shower?”
-> reblog to support me, if you enjoyed reading this and please let me know your thoughts in the comments! ♡
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