I Studied Information Technology And Earned My Bachelor’s Degree, Working For A Private Company For

Imagine a vampire sucked your blood and they didn't even pop a boner. not even half hard. fully flaccid the entire time they sucked your blood. I'd be so humiliated.

ex!seungmin who thinks about you when he receives his diploma during his graduation in law school because he couldn’t have done it without you, and it breaks his heart that while he’d reached his dreams, you couldn’t be there to see him make it.

he’d remember the countless sleepless nights you’d stayed up with him to review for his tests

or when you’d urge him to get some rest or eat his meals when he’d forget sometimes

you were there to help him realize he could do it, coming with him to apply for numerous universities

you were there from the beginning, so why couldn’t you be there to see him reach the end?

and it was a mutual decision—the breakup. but he finds that, as he reaps the rewards of his efforts, it doesn’t feel right that you aren’t in the crowd

that night, seungmin ponders over whether to call you or not

instead, he sends a few text messages

he doesn’t think he could talk to you without crying, doesn’t think he’s ready to hear your voice again

seungmin (9:57pm): i graduated today haha

seungmin (9:58pm): i just wanted to say thank you. i know that things are over between us, but it’s undeniable the influence you had on me while i was in law school. i don’t know if i’d be able to make it this far if you hadn’t believed in me the way you did. thank you. i can’t say it enough.

seungmin (10:01pm): there’s so much i want to tell you, but i guess i don’t really have the right to do that anymore. still, i hope you realize how much you’ve changed the way i looked at life (for the better, i can hear you complaining already)

seungmin (10:03pm): oh, and i found this letter i’d written back when i was still in my 1st year. it’s addressed to you, and i vividly remember telling myself to give it to you on the day i graduate. haha, somehow i’d thought we’d still be together when today would come. lmk if you still want it or if it’s too awkward then that’s okay too

seungmin (10:06pm): alright that’s it. sorry if these messages freaked you out a little. i’m not even sure this is still your number

seungmin (10:07pm): thanks again, (name). you are the one person who made me believe i could make it and i did :) thank you

Seungmin Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

One Shots

Home run (a s f) ⋆˙⟡♡ you love your best friend, you hate her baseball playing brother. he’s not been home for a few years during your summers back home, so you can’t wait for another amazing summer - until he returns home.

August is a Fever (s f) ⋆˙⟡♡ seungmin is the picture of self control around you—the perfect gentleman with no interest in you at all. maybe that is why you are so obsessed with seeing how far you can push him before he breaks. OR, hyunjin is convinced that seungmin is into you, and you are determined to prove him wrong.

Seungmin saving you from a bad date (a f)

Birthday Girl (s)

Kinktober day two - seungmin (s)

no nut november - seungmin (s)

Fake Texts

random bf!seungmin texts

insecurity pt. I // lf texts

Title: Insecurity pt I Genre: fake texts, friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort Pairing: idol/baker bsf!Felix x fem!reader

Summary: You and your best friend Felix love to bake together, and lately he has been ON FIRE with the pastries. Unfortunately, being secretly in love with Felix, you start to worry that his habit (love language) of sharing his treats with you is causing you to gain too much weight.

notes: thank you @ramadiiiisme for all the help and inspiration (and the request <3 )

I was gonna apologize for uploading this so fast but I'm not gonna.

Warnings: themes of concern over weight gain, light language, slight Seungmin slander (he can't cook okay) Felix calling you honey platonically because he's adorable.

SS: 13

(ignore the time stamps)

next part >

tag list : @amarecerasus @kumariiai @diekleinesuesse @captainchrisstan @0omillo0 @katexstay @younggwingss @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @feetoffthemalfoy @seungminsapuppy

comment a request to be tagged!

URGENT: FUNDRAISING FOR BREAST CANCER TREATMENT

I have tried my absolute best not to seek financial help online, especially when our collective focus should be aimed towards the welfare of our Palestinians, Congolese, and Sudanese brothers and sisters. I truly have considered countless options before resorting to asking for monetary assistance but I no longer have the means to keep myself alive and my little family afloat. Following my father's death almost three years ago due to colorectal cancer, I was diagnosed late last year with Stage 2A breast cancer.

There's an even elaborate explanation on the fundraising page that I will be attaching in this post. Please, take some time to read it. I am our family's breadwinner, and I am only asking for monetary assistance because I no longer have a job/source of income nor is my previous company willing to shoulder my medical expenses. I am left to fend for myself and I have used all of my savings to afford numerous physical/health examinations and the prescribed medication.

I am going to attach photos of how disfigured my right arm now is, the evident lumps/tumors on my armpits and if you want proof of how the cancer affected my breasts, please directly message me. I don't think I can explicitly share the photos here. But to put enough context, my left breast shrunk into at least 1/3 of its original size.

I am sincerely sorry for being a bother, but if you have the means to donate to my fundraising post, please do. I badly needed all the help I can get so I won't be summoned to court and would be able to afford surgery on time. If you cannot donate, please kindly share this post. If you have any other questions, please reach out to me through direct messaging. This is my only account (I will probably reblogged this on my side blog as well) so please, if you see someone using my photos, alert me. Thank you. Please understand, too, that I will take a bit of time to respond because I am struggling to grasp my phone/only typing using my left hand. Thank you, and please consider helping me.

Our Last Frame Together Part 2 | H.HJ x AFAB!Reader

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ :･ lover!hyunjin x afab!reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ :･ angst | ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs :･ character death,reader struggles with depression,gore,sharp object mentioned,injuries.| wc :･ 25k | Previously Part 1

Consciousness creeps back slowly—like a flickering light, like a dream that refuses to let go.

Your head throbs, a dull, aching pulse that echoes behind your eyes. The world is quiet. The hum of the machine has stilled, leaving only the rain outside, a rhythmic tapping against the metal roof.

For a moment, you forget where you are.

And then you inhale—dust, old film, the lingering scent of something metallic.

The photo booth.

You’re still here.

Your fingers twitch against your lap, and when you lift your head, the dim light above flickers weakly, casting shadows that don’t belong.

Something heavy sits on your chest. The kind of weight that doesn’t come from exhaustion, but from something deeper—something that lingers in the bones, in the marrow, in the spaces between memories.

Slowly, you reach forward.

The photo strip is there.

Warm from the machine, edges slightly curled. Your hands tremble as you pick it up, eyes scanning the glossy surface.

Four frames. Four stolen moments.

The first—your empty stare.

The second—the glimmer of tears.

The third—your collapse.

The fourth—pure light.

You swallow thickly. The last frame is strange, blurred at the edges, as if the camera had captured something that wasn’t meant to be seen.

Something not of this world.

The breath you let out is shaky, unsteady. You clutch the photo strip tightly, press it to your chest, and squeeze your eyes shut.

You need to leave.

The curtain rustles as you step out, blinking against the streetlights, against the way the rain has softened into a mist. Your limbs feel heavy, your footsteps unsteady, but you move forward. You keep moving.

The train station isn’t far.

You slip inside, greeted by the hollow quiet of the platform. The air smells of damp concrete and cold metal. Fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead.

A train arrives with a low hum, its doors sliding open with a soft sigh.

You step in.

The carriage is nearly empty. A few tired strangers sit scattered across the seats, lost in their own worlds, their own lives.

You take a seat by the window, press your forehead against the glass, and close your eyes.

For a moment, the present dissolves.

For a moment, you are somewhere else.

Somewhere warmer. Somewhere simpler.

Somewhere with him.

Then.

Hyunjin sits beside you, his shoulder pressed against yours, his fingers carefully tearing apart a flaky pastry, offering you the bigger half with that same boyish smile.

"You always take the smaller piece," he teases.

"You always give me the bigger one,"you counter.

"That’s because I love you."

Your heart stutters at the memory, at the way he had said it so easily—like it was the simplest truth in the world. Like it was as natural as breathing.

The train sways gently, and the past pulls you deeper.

You remember the way he’d rest his head on your shoulder when he was exhausted. How he’d mumble half-asleep complaints about practice, about deadlines, about life moving too fast.

"Let’s just stay like this forever," he had whispered once, half-laughing, half-serious.

And you had laughed too, not knowing that forever was never promised.

Not knowing that time would steal him away.

The train rattles past an open field, and it feels like another ghost of the past—how the two of you would press your hands against the glass, watching the world blur by, snapping quick photos on your old film camera.

"For the memories,"he had said, clicking the shutter. "For us."

For us.

Your fingers curl against your palms.

A lump rises in your throat.

The past feels too close, too sharp, like a knife pressing against tender skin. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself back into the present, forcing yourself to open your eyes.

But when you do, the seat beside you is empty.

Hyunjin is gone.

And you are alone.

The train speeds forward, pulling you along with it.

But your heart?

Your heart is still chasing ghosts.

The train slows, its brakes letting out a soft screech as it pulls into the station. The chime overhead echoes through the empty carriage, signaling arrival, urging movement.

You step out onto the platform.

The air is thick, heavy in a way that makes your chest tighten. The walk home feels strange—like wading through something invisible, something intangible. The streets stretch longer than you remember, the city lights blur at the edges, flickering like distant stars.

There’s something off.

Something weightless in the air, something that makes your skin prickle.

You pull Hyunjin’s jacket tighter around yourself, his scent still lingering in the fabric—faint traces of cologne, of warmth, of something that once belonged to you.

Your footsteps echo against the pavement.

You pass by the corner store where he used to buy late-night snacks, past the old bookstore where he’d browse for hours, running his fingers over the spines of books he never bought but always admired.

Every step feels like a step back in time.

Like the past is curling at the edges, unraveling into something real

The night clings to your skin like something sentient, something breathing. The air is thick with the weight of rain-soaked pavement, the distant hum of the city, the ghost of a name that lingers on your lips but never leaves.

Hyunjin.

Your steps are slow, uncertain. The world feels off-kilter, edges blurred, as if the universe itself is unraveling in soft threads, trying to sew something back together—something that was torn apart.

And then—

A scent.

Warm. Familiar.

Cooking.

Your pulse stutters.

It hits you like a memory—like late evenings spent tangled in domestic simplicity, his laughter curling into the steam of a boiling pot, his hands careful as he chopped vegetables with the precision of an artist.

But this isn’t a memory.

This is now.

And it shouldn’t be.

Your hands shake as you reach for your keys, fingers fumbling, slipping, the metal clinking in protest. Your breath quickens. Your heart pounds.

This isn’t real.

It can’t be real.

The lock turns, the door creaks open, and—

Everything stops.

A golden glow spills from the kitchen, warm and soft, flickering against the walls like candlelight. The air is thick with the scent of something cooking, something real, something you shouldn’t be able to smell.

And then you see him.

Hyunjin.

Standing by the stove, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pot like this is just another evening, like time hasn’t stolen him away, like you haven’t spent weeks drowning in the absence of him.

Your breath is caught somewhere between your ribs.

He hums—soft, low, a familiar melody that sends a tremor through your spine.

Your mind screams impossible, but your heart—your heart doesn’t care.

It beats for him.

It always has.

And then he turns.

And he smiles.

"You’re home."

The words fall from his lips as if they belong here, as if they are stitched into the very fabric of this moment, as if he has been waiting for you all this time.

Your world tilts.

Your knees threaten to buckle.

Hyunjin steps forward, arms wrapping around you in a warmth that is too much, too overwhelming, too devastatingly familiar.

You don’t move.

You don’t breathe.

Because if you let yourself believe this—if you let yourself melt into him, into the scent of his skin, into the feeling of his heartbeat steady and alive beneath his chest—then what happens when you wake up?

What happens when you realize this isn’t real?

What happens when the universe corrects its mistake and takes him away from you again?

You squeeze your eyes shut.

And for the first time in weeks, for the first time since the world shattered beneath your feet—

You wish you never had to open them again.

Hyunjin’s arms are warm—too warm, too solid. The weight of him anchors you in place, but your mind is still drifting, still caught somewhere between what is real and what is impossible.

His heartbeat presses against your ear, steady, rhythmic, alive.

"What’s wrong?" he murmurs, voice laced with concern. His hands, familiar in their gentleness, settle on your back, holding you like you might slip away.

And maybe you will.

Maybe this is just another cruel trick, another illusion conjured up by grief and exhaustion.

You open your eyes.

Slowly, carefully, as if the moment might shatter if you move too fast.

His face is inches from yours—so close you can see the soft glow of the kitchen light reflecting in his eyes, the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the slight furrow in his brow.

You reach for him, fingers trembling as they brush over his cheekbone, his jaw, his lips—every detail that you thought you’d lost forever.

"I need to know," you whisper, voice barely a breath.

Hyunjin tilts his head, searching your gaze, waiting.

"What happened that day?" you ask. "The day I got my scar. When we were in the park."

It’s a secret only he knows. A moment buried in time, untouched by anyone but the two of you.

If this is a dream, if this is some cruel mirage, then he won’t remember.

But he doesn’t hesitate.

"It was the summer after we graduated high school," he says, voice soft, distant, like he’s unfolding the memory in his hands. "We snuck out past midnight and rode my bike to the park. You were trying to climb that stupid jungle gym, and I told you it was too slippery from the rain, but you didn’t listen."

A soft laugh escapes him, though his grip on you tightens.

"You slipped," he continues, "scraped your knee on the metal. It bled more than it should’ve, and you wouldn’t stop crying—not because it hurt, but because you thought it was ugly. And I—"

He exhales, his fingers brushing over the faint scar just above your knee, as if checking to see if it’s still there.

"I kissed it better. Told you it made you look cool, like a warrior or something."

Your breath catches.

The world tilts.

Because this is real.

This is him.

No one else could have known. No one else could have reached back into the past and pulled out that night, that laughter, that fleeting moment of something so simple, so full of love.

The realization crashes over you like a wave, dragging you under, pulling you into the depths of something uncontrollable, something overwhelming.

And then you’re kissing him.

Desperate. Trembling. Needy.

Your hands cradle his face, pulling him closer, pressing against him like he might disappear if you let go. His lips are warm, impossibly soft, moving against yours in a way that feels like home, like longing, like every missed moment collapsing into this one.

His hands find your waist, gripping, grounding, holding on like he’s just as afraid of slipping through time as you are.

The kiss deepens, turns breathless, turns into something raw, something aching.

Because this is impossible.

Because you lost him.

Because you got him back.

Because you don’t know how long this will last.

But right now—right here—Hyunjin is in your arms, warm and alive and yours.

And for the first time in a long time, the world feels whole again.

Hyunjin’s laughter is soft against your lips, the warmth of it brushing over your skin like a ghost of something you thought you’d lost forever. He pulls back, breathless, eyes bright with something alive, something eager.

"I have a surprise for you," he says, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Your heart clenches.

He’s so happy, so unaware of the way your chest is tightening, the way your fingers are curling into the fabric of his sweater as if holding on will keep him here.

"Tomorrow—" he starts, hands still resting on your waist. "I was thinking we could go somewhere. Just like we used to. Just the two of us. No worries, no stress—just you and me on the road."

The words echo in your head, bouncing against the walls of your skull like a cruel reminder of the past.

The road. The freedom. The laughter. The wind in your hair.

And then—

The crash.

The blood.

The screaming.

Your heart stops.

The warmth of the moment is suddenly suffocating, the air too thick, the light in the room too harsh.

"Hyunjin—" your voice comes out weaker than you intended, hands pressing against his chest, as if trying to create distance between you and the inevitable. "We don’t have to, really. We can just—stay here. Have a lazy day. You’ve been working so hard, you deserve to rest."

His brows furrow, his lips parting as confusion flickers across his face.

"What? No, come on, you’ll love it—I promise. We used to do this all the time. Remember? Back then, we never knew what tomorrow would bring, and that was the best part."

Back then.

Before life got heavy. Before things stopped going as planned. Before he—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

The fear is curling around your lungs, sinking into your bones, whispering in your ear

You already lost him once.

You can’t lose him again.

You can’t let this happen.

"Hyunjin, I just don’t think—"

But he’s so insistent, so persistent, hands moving up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones like he’s trying to wipe away your hesitation.

"Please," he murmurs, voice softer now, gentler. "It’s been so long since we’ve done something like this. Just trust me."

You do trust him.

But you don’t trust the universe.

You don’t trust fate.

You don’t trust that this isn’t some cruel trick, some fleeting moment meant to be stolen away again.

But the way he’s looking at you—God, the way he’s looking at you, like you are his entire world—makes you weak.

So you swallow the lump in your throat.

You push down the anxiety clawing at your chest.

And you nod.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay."

But your hands don’t stop shaking.

Because deep inside, you know—

This is how it started last time.

📸🎞️…..

The motorcycle hums beneath you, steady and alive, but your chest feels tight—like a vice around your ribs, like hands wrapping around your throat. The wind whips past, tangling your hair, but it does nothing to cool the heat of your panic.

Hyunjin rides ahead, his hands firm on the handlebars, his body warm against yours. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air—soft, familiar, real.You tighten your grip around his waist, holding on as if your touch alone can anchor him here, as if it can stop time from slipping through your fingers.

But the air feels heavier with every mile.

The neon lights of the city blur into streaks, and your mind pulls you backward—back to that day.

The crash. The sound of metal against flesh. The blood on the pavement.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket.

"You okay back there?"Hyunjin calls over the wind, voice light, oblivious.

You suck in a sharp breath. Say something. Anything.

"Yeah,"you force out. "Just cold."

He chuckles, one hand momentarily leaving the handlebar to squeeze yours.

"Almost there, love."

That word—"love."

It clenches something deep inside you, makes your stomach twist, makes your hands shake against him.

Then—

Up ahead.

The turn.

The truck.

The headlights cut through the night, blinding, merciless.

The street ahead narrows, funneling you toward fate, toward inevitability.

This is where it happens.

This is where you lose him.

The roar of the truck’s engine grows louder.

Your heartbeat slams against your ribs.

The air thickens, warps—

And then—

The hum of the photobooth.

The world rewinds.

Suddenly, you are seconds before the crash.

The truck is coming.

Hyunjin doesn’t see it.

You have one chance.

One moment to change everything.

You don’t think.

You act.

Your hands fly forward, gripping the handlebars—

And you yank.

Hyunjin gasps—sharp, startled.

The motorcycle swerves violently.

The truck blares its horn.

For a fleeting second, you think you did it.

You think you saved him.

But then—

The motorcycle skids out of control.

The impact comes fast, brutal.

The street pole looms in your vision before you can react.

The crash is deafening.

Hyunjin is ripped from the bike.

Thrown.

Farther than before.

Too far.

Your body slams into the pavement.

The Pain again explodes—your ribs, your skull, your legs—all burning, all screaming.

Everything spins.

But your eyes—blurry, desperate—search for him.

Hyunjin.

He’s there.

Lying still.

Too still.

"No."

Your voice is hoarse, barely a whisper.

You try to move. Try to reach him.

Your arms shake.

Your vision darkens at the edges.

"Hyunjin,"you choke,He doesn’t respond.

Your fingers find his hand.

Cold.

Unmoving.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

You saved him.

Didn’t you? Didn’t you?

A sob wracks your body, shaking you to your core. You made it worse.

Darkness holds you in its grasp, thick and endless. There’s no sound, no sensation—just the weight of something unbearable pressing against your chest. Then, like a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the world pulls you back.

Your body jerks awake.

You’re sitting.

Your head throbs, your limbs feel weightless, unmoored. Your breaths come in short, panicked gasps.

The scent of old film and dust fills your nose.

The hum of a machine echoes softly.

Your fingers clutch at the fabric beneath you, the vinyl seat cool and familiar.

No.

You blink rapidly, disoriented. The walls around you are narrow, the dim glow of the photobooth's screen illuminating the cramped space. The curtain sways gently, as if undisturbed, as if nothing had happened at all.

No, no, no.

You rip the curtain open.

The city is unchanged.

Rain still pours, streaking down the pavement in rivers. Neon lights still flicker, their reflections shimmering in the puddles. People pass by, hurrying under umbrellas, untouched by the storm raging inside of you.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

The motorcycle. The crash. Hyunjin—

Your hands fumble for your phone, fingers trembling as you pull up his number.

You press call.

It rings, but no answer.

The breath you were holding escapes in a broken exhale.

He’s gone.

Again.

Your knees nearly buckle as you clutch your phone to your chest, pulse roaring in your ears.

Then, your eyes drift back to the machine.

The screen glows softly, waiting. A lump forms in your throat.

The photobooth—

It brought you back.

It rewound time.

It gave you another chance.

Your hands shake as you reach into your pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth edge of a coin.

There’s no hesitation.No fear.

You shove the coin into the slot.

The machine whirs, swallowing it whole,and the countdown begins.

"Take me back," you whisper.

The coin is swallowed, as you wait impatiently.

A breath. A heartbeat. A pause that stretches far too long.

The machine does nothing.

No hum, no flicker, no shifting of reality. Just silence.

Your pulse stutters.

No.

You press your trembling hands against the seat, nails digging into the vinyl. The air inside the photobooth is stale, thick with dust and the faint scent of old film. The same as before. But nothing is happening.

It’s not working.

Your vision blurs.

The walls around you suddenly feel too close, pressing in, suffocating.

"No, no, no—"

You shove at the machine, desperate, your breaths turning ragged.

"Please,"you whisper, voice cracking. "Take me back—please, just one more time—"

Nothing.

A sob tears through you, raw and aching, as you collapse against the wall.

It was all in your head, wasn’t it?

You did faint.

You did hallucinate it all.

There was no second chance. No way to fix things.

Hyunjin is gone.

Gone, and you’re sitting in some rusted old photobooth, crying over a ghost.

Your body shakes as you bury your face in your hands.

It’s over.

Click.

The sound shatters through your thoughts.

You freeze.

Your breath catches in your throat as the familiar mechanical whir fills the tiny space.

The screen flickers—light flaring, too bright, too much.

Then—

A flash.

A blinding, all-consuming white.

Everything vanishes.

Flash!📸🎞️………

When you wake, you’re gasping for air.

Your hands scramble against the floor, cool pavement beneath your fingertips. The rain is softer now, a steady rhythm against the streets.

Your head is pounding.

Your limbs feel weak.

But none of that matters.

Your fingers fumble for your phone, slipping in your damp grasp as you pull up Hyunjin’s number.

Please. Please, please, please.

You press call.

It rings.

"Hello?"

The world stops.

Your breath shatters. The sound of his voice—low, gentle, alive.

Your lips part, but no words come out.

"Hey—?"His voice shifts, concerned. “Are you okay?" A sob escapes you, unbidden.

Your fingers clutch the phone so tightly it might break.

“Hyunjin,"you whisper, the name trembling off your tongue like a prayer, like salvation, like something you thought you’d lost forever.

"Yeah?"he laughs softly, the sound familiar, warm. "What’s wrong? You sound—"

You can’t answer.

Your free hand claps over your mouth, stifling the choked cry threatening to spill out. Your body trembles, the weight of everything crashing over you all at once.

He's here. He's real. He's alive.

Tears spill freely down your cheeks, mixing with the rain.

"Where are you?"he asks again, softer now, like he knows something’s wrong. "Do you need me to come get you?"

You nod frantically before realizing he can’t see you. "Yes,"you gasp. "Please—just come get me."

"Okay, okay, breathe, love—"The nickname breaks something inside of you.

You press a hand to your chest, trying to hold yourself together, trying to believe this moment is real.

"I’m on my way,"Hyunjin promises. “Just stay right there."

And for the first time in what feels like lifetimes, you let yourself hope.

The rain has softened into a drizzle by the time he arrives.

The low hum of an engine, the sharp skid of tires against wet pavement—these sounds should be insignificant, nothing more than noise blending into the rhythm of the city.

But for you, they are everything.

Your breath stills as the motorcycle pulls up in front of you, as Hyunjin swings one leg over the seat with the ease of someone who has done this a thousand times before.

Like nothing ever happened.

Like he hasn’t died in your arms.

Like you haven’t spent an eternity clawing through time to bring him back.

His helmet comes off in a single, fluid motion, damp hair falling into his eyes. And then he’s looking at you, searching.

"Are you okay?" he asks, breathless. His brows furrow, voice laced with concern. "Did something happen to you? Why are you here? Did someone—"

"I’m fine," you interrupt, too quickly.

His frown deepens. You know he doesn’t believe you. You know he sees the way your fingers tremble, the way your clothes are still soaked from the rain.

But he lets it go.

For now.

A deep exhale leaves his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, flicking stray droplets of water from his skin. "God, I came here as fast as I could—" He stops suddenly, gaze flickering past you. His lips curve into a smirk.

"You like this booth that much?"

Your stomach twists.

The photobooth stands behind you, silent, unmoving. An unmarked grave for the ghosts of the past, the keeper of all your mistakes.

You force a smile, but it feels wrong on your lips. "Yeah," you lie. "Guess I do."

Hyunjin chuckles, shaking his head.

"You’re weird."

You have no idea.

For a moment, there is only the sound of the rain, the distant murmur of passing cars. Then, with a small inhale, Hyunjin straightens.

"I have a surprise for you."

Your body goes rigid.

"A surprise?" you echo.

He nods, eyes glinting with something soft, something impossibly warm. "Yeah. But you have to ride with me first."

Your breath catches.

The motorcycle gleams under the streetlights, water slipping down its frame like silver threads.

You can still feel the weight of it beneath you. The wind against your skin. The brief, fleeting moment when everything felt infinite—before it all went wrong.

Before the world tore him away from you.

But something is different this time.

Your heart still stammers in your chest, but not from fear.

Not from the unbearable weight of inevitability.

This time, it isn’t dread coiling in your stomach.

It’s something closer to resolve.

You exhale slowly, stepping forward, fingers brushing against his.

"Okay," you say, voice steadier than you expected.

Hyunjin beams. "Just like old times."

And this time, you aren’t afraid you knew.

The wind howls as the city blurs past—neon lights streaking like shooting stars, the hum of the motorcycle beneath you steady, powerful. Hyunjin’s warmth is against your back, his hands firm on the handlebars, his breath steady.

For a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe.

That this time, it will be different.

That maybe, just maybe, you have outrun fate.

But then, in the distance, you see it.

That cursed stretch of road.

The place where it all unraveled.

And you know—it’s happening again.

Your grip on Hyunjin tightens. Your heart slams against your ribs, panic clawing up your throat like bile. You cannot let this happen. Not again.

The truck emerges from the intersection, just like before. Its headlights pierce through the night like a cruel, unblinking eye.

You make your choice.

With every ounce of strength, you throw yourself backward, dragging Hyunjin with you.

His body jerks, his startled gasp swallowed by the roar of the engine. The sudden shift in weight tilts the motorcycle just enough—just enough to miss the truck.

The plan worked, You should feel relief.

But you don’t.

Because the pavement is rushing up too fast, too hard.

The bike skids. Your body is weightless, airborne—then crashing, tumbling, scraping against asphalt.

A sickening crack.

White-hot pain sears through you as your skull slams into the curb. Your vision swims, a kaleidoscope of blood and neon.

📸🎞️….

You wake up inside the photobooth.

The scent of dust and old film floods your senses, the seat beneath you stiff and unyielding. The air is thick, suffocating.

Your fingers twitch.

You lift your head.

Outside, the rain still falls—soft and relentless. The world beyond the curtain remains unchanged. As if it hasn’t shattered a thousand times before. As if it isn’t cruel and unyielding.

You reach for your phone with trembling hands.

Dial.Ring.Once. Twice.Then—Voicemail.

Hyunjin is gone. Again.

The breath you didn’t realize you were holding collapses from your lungs.

A choked sob rips through your throat as you press your forehead to your knees.

"Why?"

The machine hums beside you.

Cold. Silent. Unforgiving.

You know what it’s telling you.

Try again.

Try again.

Try again.

But no matter how many times you turn back time

Hyunjin always dies.

The coin is cold between your fingers, edges worn from use, from time, from fate itself.

You stare at it in your palm, light catching the dull metal, reflecting the weight of your choices. It feels heavier than before—or maybe you are just tired.

How many times have you done this?

How many times have you begged the universe to let him live?

And how many times has it spat in your face, laughing cruelly as you failed again and again?

You exhale, slow and unsteady, looking at the machine in front of you.

The photobooth stands the same as always—unchanged, indifferent to your suffering. Its flickering light buzzes softly, casting shadows on the rain-slicked pavement outside. It doesn’t care about your desperation, your grief, your exhaustion.

But then—

The screen flickers.

Words appear, stark and cold against the dim glow.

"LAST CHANCE."

Your breath hitches.

Your pulse pounds in your ears.

"Last chance."

The words sit in your chest like a stone, heavy and unmovable.

No more retries. No more do-overs. No more mistakes.

You close your eyes.

You have tried everything—ripping him off the bike, crashing yourself instead, warning him before the ride. And yet, he always dies.

But not this time.

This time, you know what you have to do.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the coin, pressing it against the slot.

The moment your eyes flutter open, you know.

The air is different—warmer, familiar. The hum of the photobooth fades into the background, drowned by the sound of the rain outside, the distant murmur of the city at night.

You gasp, heart hammering, and stumble out onto the wet pavement. The world is still here. The lights, the streets, the scent of rain mixing with the faint aroma of something—something warm, something home.

You don’t stop to think.

Your feet move before your mind catches up, carrying you through the winding streets, past the corner store, past the bakery that still smells like sugar and early mornings. Every step feels like déjà vu, like running through a dream you’ve lived a hundred times before.

And then—

The door.

Your apartment.

The golden glow from the window spills onto the hallway floor, flickering gently as if inviting you in. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the keys, breath catching in your throat.

You push the door open.

And there he is.

Hyunjin.

Standing in the kitchen, barefoot, humming softly as he stirs something on the stove. The scent of soy sauce and caramelized onions fills the air, the same meal he always makes when he’s been away for too long. He always says cooking makes a place feel like home.

And he’s here.

Alive.

Whole.

"Hey, you’re home," he says, turning with a soft smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I was just—”

You don’t let him finish.

Your body moves on instinct—crossing the room, reaching for him, pulling him in.

Your hands grasp at the fabric of his shirt, desperate, like he might slip through your fingers again if you don’t hold tight enough. Hyunjin barely has a second to react before your lips crash against his—deep, needy, filled with every unsaid word, every lost moment, every lifetime where you never got to do this.

He freezes, startled, but then—he melts.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, fingers pressing into the small of your back. He kisses you back slow, deep, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth, like he’s trying to pour all the time you’ve lost into this one single moment.

And God, you let him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more—more of this, more of him, more of the life you were meant to have.

You breathe him in. The faint traces of cologne on his skin, the warmth of his hands against your spine, the quiet sound he makes when you deepen the kiss.

Hyunjin pulls back just enough to press his forehead against yours, breathless, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek.

“Woah,” he murmurs, laughing softly. “Missed me that much?”

You laugh too, but it comes out broken, shaky.

Because yes.

Yes, you did.

You missed him in ways he will never understand.

You missed him across timelines, across tragedies, across every cruel hand fate has dealt you.

You press your lips against his again, softer this time, lingering.

Just in case. Just in case the world tries to take him from you again.

Hyunjin’s fingers slow, his hand hovering over the dish in front of him, but he doesn’t stir it. The quiet of the room stretches out, thick with the weight of your words, hanging in the space between the soft hum of the kitchen lights and the soft simmer of the pot. He doesn’t move immediately. For a moment, everything stops. The world outside the window, with its distant traffic and muffled voices, fades into a distant murmur as if the universe itself is holding its breath, waiting for him to respond.

You watch him, waiting, the question lingering in the air like a fragile thing, delicate and raw, too heavy to ignore. You can feel your heart thudding, loud in your chest, almost too loud for such a quiet moment. You hope he won’t hear it. You’re not sure if you want him to.

"Sometimes I wish I could stop time," you repeat quietly, almost to yourself, your voice trembling ever so slightly. "And just stay here with you, but... I’m scared. Scared that if I do, I might never leave. Do you think that’s selfish?"

His silence presses on you, thickening the air, weighing down the words you’ve let slip from your mouth. You can’t quite tell if you’re relieved or terrified. It’s not a question you wanted to ask, but something in you needed to. Needed to say it, needed to know what he’d say. Because, even if it was selfish, even if it was wrong—wasn't it true? Wasn't it the thing you truly wanted more than anything else in the world?

You can’t bring yourself to look away, to break the connection, to hide what you’re feeling. You’ve spent so long trying to guard it—this feeling, the ache that never seems to leave. But in this moment, with him, with the quiet warmth between you, you can’t pretend anymore. You can’t pretend that you don’t want this to last forever.

Hyunjin is still. Too still. His eyes flicker to the dish, then back to you, like he’s searching for something—some hidden meaning behind your words. His gaze sharpens, as if he’s trying to read the delicate, fragile truth written across your face, but he doesn’t find the words there. Instead, he sees the cracks. He sees the way your lips tremble slightly as you breathe. He sees the sadness hiding in the corners of your eyes, the way your hands grip the edge of the counter like you’re bracing yourself against something, something inside you that you can’t quite shake.

The air between you thickens with something unspoken, and he steps closer, but he doesn’t touch you. Not yet. His fingers are still loosely holding the spatula, but he doesn’t move it, doesn’t stir the dish anymore. Instead, he stands there, watching you, as if his presence alone could somehow help you find the right words. He doesn’t answer right away, and you feel the panic start to stir in your chest, rising up like a tide.

"Hyunjin..." you murmur, the words barely escaping your lips, your voice a whisper. But he doesn’t respond. He simply looks at you, studying you with an intensity that makes your heart tighten. He sees through you. You know he does. He always has.

And then, finally, his gaze softens, the lines of tension around his eyes easing, though the questions still linger, unspoken. He places the spatula gently down on the counter, the quiet sound of it hitting the surface more final than you expected. He steps forward, closing the distance between you, and reaches out slowly, as though he’s waiting for your permission, for you to give him a sign.

His hand, warm and steady, touches your arm lightly, his fingers brushing the skin there as he steps even closer, his presence enveloping you. His eyes are softer now, but they hold something deeper—something that feels like the weight of years, of shared memories, of moments where time felt like it had stopped, just for the two of you.

He searches your face again, and then, finally, his voice breaks the silence, quiet but sure. “No,” he says softly, his words like a whisper, but filled with weight. “It’s not selfish.”

You blink, and your heart stutters in your chest, the relief crashing into you, almost too much to bear. Your breath catches, the tears that have been threatening to spill start to rise, but you force them back. You don’t want to let him see how close you are to falling apart. But you can feel it—the tightness in your chest, the ache that never really goes away.

“It’s human,” he adds, voice low, almost reverent. He brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost too soft. “I think…” He pauses, searching for the right words, as if he doesn’t want to give you the wrong answer. "I think I feel the same way. I would stay here, too. With you. If I could, I would. But..." He stops, as if caught by a thought that’s just out of reach, a hesitation you both understand. "But life… it moves forward, doesn’t it? And I don’t want you to be stuck here, not when you could have more."

His words, so carefully chosen, feel like a knife against your skin. You don’t want more. Not without him. Not without this.

“But it’s not selfish to want that," he murmurs, almost to himself. "I understand."

And in that moment, something shifts. The weight in your chest loosens, just slightly, and the room around you seems to shrink, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for you to decide—waiting for you to give into the longing that’s been building between the two of you.

You look up at him, his face so close to yours now, the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his breath mixing with yours. And for a moment, it’s like time has stopped—just as you wanted. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe, just for now, that’s all you need.

“Dinners ready!” Hyunjin whispers.

last one!📸🎞️….

As the scent of dinner lingers in the air, the soft hum of the refrigerator and the faint clink of dishes blend with the quiet atmosphere of the apartment. The kitchen light casts a golden glow over everything, the calm before the storm of words.

The couch is soft beneath you, the fabric cool against your skin as you sit, your legs tucked up under you, your hands restless in your lap. You wait for him, watching the rhythm of his movements as he tends to the plant—the one he’s always been so careful with, so tender. His fingers, gentle but sure, water it like it’s the most delicate thing in the world, as if each drop of water is a promise, each moment with it an act of devotion.

And you can’t help but watch him, watch the way he leans in so close to the plant, his brow furrowed in concentration.

It’s strange, how something so simple can pull you in. It’s strange how he can make something so ordinary feel like an act of love, like a secret you don’t understand but feel deep in your chest.The way he cares for things—this plant, for instance—is just the way he cares for you. Always so tender, always so gentle, always so patient, as if he’s trying to keep you alive, to make sure you bloom and grow just as he wants you to. As if he’s afraid of losing you.

You swallow hard.

It’s almost too much.

He doesn’t notice you watching him, not at first. But when his gaze lifts, when his eyes meet yours, it’s like he’s caught in the act, caught doing something he didn’t mean to show you. His lips curl into a teasing smile, but there’s a hint of something in his gaze, something softer than his playful tone suggests.

“You’re staring so much,” he says, his voice light, full of affection and humor. He shakes his head, stepping back from the plant, but the smile never leaves his face. “You love me too much. How could you ever live without me?”

His words float in the space between you, and for a brief moment, it feels like the weight of them hangs in the air, thick and heavy. If only he knew.

You smile, but it’s a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, a smile that feels more like a mask than anything else. You don’t answer him, not immediately. You just watch him, the way his movements are so fluid, so effortless, as if he’s always been this way, always been the person who’s had the ability to make everything feel easy.

But nothing is easy, is it?

When he finishes with the plant, his movements still slow and deliberate, he finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours, waiting for you to say something.

You hold your breath for a moment, feeling the tremor of anticipation in the air, the kind of quiet that feels like it’s building to something. Something important, something impossible to ignore. Something you’ve been trying to say, but haven’t found the courage for.

Then, he’s sitting beside you, the weight of his presence beside you, his body warm and familiar. His hand comes to rest on the arm of the couch, so close to yours that you can feel the heat from his skin, the invisible line between you both that feels thicker than anything else in the room.

“So…” He turns toward you, his voice soft, almost hesitant in its own way. “What was that we were gonna do?”

You exhale, and for a brief second, you wonder how you could ever tell him what you really need to say. How could you possibly tell him that every moment feels like it’s slipping through your fingers? That the seconds, the minutes, the hours spent with him—they’re all so fragile. So fleeting. As if, in the back of your mind, you can hear the ticking of some invisible clock, counting down to a time when this moment will be gone.

But you can’t. You can’t say it, not yet. Not when you’re so scared of the truth that you’ve been hiding.

So, you look at him, at his soft, warm smile, and you force your voice to be steady, to sound as though everything is fine, when inside, you’re breaking apart.

“It’s nothing,” you say, your words quiet, your heart beating faster than it should. “Just... dinner. Just this.” You gesture vaguely around the room, as if it could explain everything you’ve been trying to say without saying it. "Just us."

His eyes linger on you, searching, as if he knows there’s more, but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t press you for answers, and for a moment, you think you might actually be able to hold this together. To make it through this. To make it through him, through the love that’s eating you alive from the inside out, the love that’s too big for both of you to carry.

He leans closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and his hand brushes against yours, just the slightest touch, like he’s trying to anchor you to him, trying to remind you that you’re here, together.

"Hey," he says gently, his voice tender and full of something you can’t quite place. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

And in that moment, it feels like everything could be okay. Like everything could stay just like this, in this small corner of the world, with him by your side. But you know, deep down, you’re just pretending. Pretending that time won’t eventually catch up with you both. Pretending that nothing will ever change.

And you hate yourself for it.

But for now, you smile, and you let him hold you in the quiet.

The air is thick with an unspoken tension as Hyunjin’s words hang in the air, tempting fate, inviting the unknown. The motorcycle sits idle in front of you, gleaming in the dim streetlight, its engine quiet for now, waiting for the moment to come alive. He looks at you, his face open, his eyes wide with the same easy smile he’s always had—one that hides the truth beneath, one that gives nothing away, one that makes you feel safe even when you’re drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn’t know. He doesn't know how you feel, how the weight of everything—everything that’s happened, everything that’s to come—presses down on your chest, makes it hard to breathe, makes your heart beat too fast, too hard. He doesn’t know the depths of what you carry, how the scars on your heart are too deep for him to see, no matter how much he’s loved you. No matter how much you’ve loved him.

“Let’s go somewhere,” he says, his voice light, carefree, like it’s just another adventure to add to the endless list of memories you’ve already collected. The same motorcycle. The same promise. The same broken, fragile hope that you’ll find a way to outrun the clock that’s ticking for both of you.

And for a moment, it feels like you might. For a moment, you let yourself believe that you could just ride away, leave all of this behind, and start over. Start fresh. Be new. Be free.

But you know better. You know that life doesn’t work that way.

You force a smile, nodding in agreement, because what else can you do? The fear in your chest gnaws at you, a constant reminder that nothing lasts forever. The inevitability of it. The aching knowledge that no matter how many times you tell yourself otherwise, no matter how many times you kiss him, touch him, beg the universe to let this moment last, it’s all slipping away.

Before you climb onto the bike, before you’re swallowed by the hum of the engine and the wind that will tear at your face, you stop. You stand there for a moment, looking at him, really looking at him, as if you’re memorizing every inch of his face, every line of his body, every movement of his hands.

You pull him close, desperate to feel his warmth one last time. You press your lips to his, deep and needy, as if this could be the only kiss that matters. The only kiss that will make a difference. Your heart is pounding, each beat a painful reminder of the words you can’t say, the things you can’t bear to think about.

As the kiss deepens, you feel the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, hot and threatening. You break away from him, your breath shaky, your hands trembling as you place them on his chest, as if that could somehow steady you. As if you could control this moment, control what comes next.

“Hyunjin,” you say, your voice low and shaky, but full of the truth you’ve been carrying for so long. "Do you know what you’ve done for me?" You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself, but the words keep coming, tumbling out in a rush, like you’re afraid to stop, afraid to give them time to sink in.

“You’ve pulled me out of the darkest places. You’ve saved me from myself more times than I can count. There were moments when I didn’t think I could keep going. When everything felt too heavy. When life felt like a burden I couldn’t bear. And you—you were there. Always. No matter how hard things got. No matter how broken I was. You were there.”

You break down then, unable to hold it in any longer. The tears that had been threatening to spill fall now, hot and fast, streaking down your face as you grip him tighter, like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you let go. Your chest heaves with the weight of everything you’ve been holding in, and you let it all pour out.

“You—You were my light. You were my reason to keep fighting. You... you helped me through everything. The debts. The pain. The fear. You always helped me keep going when I couldn’t see a way out.”

The words choke in your throat, each one harder to say than the last, but you can’t stop now. You can’t go back, not when you’re so close to finally telling him everything that’s been breaking you apart inside.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, the weight of it threatening to suffocate you. “I don’t know what’s left if you’re not here. I don’t know who I am without you, Hyunjin. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine when you’re the one who’s kept me alive. I need you more than anything.”

You pull away, wiping your eyes quickly, but it doesn’t matter. He’s seen it now. Seen the cracks in your facade. Seen the truth of what you’ve been hiding from him, from yourself.

And as the tears fall, he doesn’t say anything right away. He just holds you, his arms strong around you, his breath warm against your skin. His heart beats against yours, steady, like everything is fine. But you can feel the shift in the air. The weight of the words you’ve spoken, the gravity of what’s about to come.

And for a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s all worth it. If the risk of losing him, of losing everything, is worth the pain you know will follow. If the love you share can withstand the force of time, of fate, of everything that’s pulling you apart.

But you don’t have an answer. Not yet.

There you were again, the same road, the same fateful turn. The motorcycle hummed beneath you, the world whizzing by in a blur of streetlights and memories, and yet, all you could feel was the weight of inevitability pressing down on your chest. The air was sharp, biting at your skin, but your heart was colder. Colder than the wind, colder than the world around you.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t know how many times you had tried. How many nights had passed in this cruel cycle, replaying over and over like some broken record. Each time, you thought you could change it. Thought you could fix it. Thought you could outrun the future. But no matter how many times you altered the course, no matter how many desperate attempts you made—it always ended the same.

Hyunjin would die.

It didn’t matter how early you jumped back, how much you tried to adjust the timing, how much you begged for a different outcome. Every turn, every decision, every twist of fate—they always fell short. Every calculation was wrong. Every move you made too slow. Every plea for mercy too weak.

The screams that tore through your heart each time you crashed, the painful realization that you had failed again. That you had failed. You couldn’t save him. You couldn’t change what was already written.

And so, now, as you swerved once more, you closed your eyes. You closed your eyes because you had finally accepted it. You had finally understood. You had fought so hard, tried so many different ways to bend fate to your will, but no matter what, you always lost. You were always too late.

Hyunjin’s voice broke through the roar of the wind, but you couldn’t hear him—not clearly, not through the ache in your chest. You felt the tug of inevitability in the pit of your stomach, the weight of time pulling you both toward the same end. No matter how much you fought it, no matter how many times you turned the clock back, the outcome was always the same.

It wasn’t about the ride. It wasn’t about the thrill or the freedom you once felt. It was about the crushing certainty of fate, the cruel truth that no matter how many times you tried to alter it, no matter how many times you jumped back to make it right—this was how it had to be.

It was always too late.

And in that moment, a hollow peace settled over you. The fight drained from you, leaving only the quiet despair of acceptance. You didn’t have to run anymore. You didn’t have to keep trying to change something that was already set in stone. Because, in the end, this was always the way it was meant to go.

You had tried everything. And now, you understood sometimes, the only thing left to do is let go.

The final blow came like the end of a cruel symphony—the sound of tires screeching, metal crumpling against pavement, the sickening impact that shattered everything you knew. It happened so fast, yet in those moments, everything felt suspended, like time had drawn its final breath and left you choking on it.

You could see it, feel it, even as the world spun out of control. His body, lifeless, sprawled across the pavement, his blood staining the road—a vision you had seen too many times, yet every time it cut deeper into your soul, leaving a wound that refused to heal. Hyunjin, your Hyunjin, the one who had been with you through every storm, now lost in the chaos, his body broken beyond repair.

The agony was unbearable.

Then, as everything blurred into darkness, you felt the familiar pull. You fell, crumpling to the ground in a heap of shattered pieces, consciousness slipping away, and when you awoke… it was the same.

Inside the photo booth.

The cold, metallic scent of old film lingered in the air. The faint buzzing of the machine was the only sound that met your ears. Your fingers trembled as they reached out, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, suffocating you.

You blinked, disoriented, your mind racing as the realization slammed into you once again. It was happening again. The same cruel cycle.

Tears pricked at your eyes, the rawness of the grief, the guilt, too much to bear. You tried to swallow it, but the ache inside you was too vast, too consuming. Your chest tightened with every sob that choked its way through your throat. How many more times would you have to go through this? How many more times would you have to watch him die, helpless, as fate snatched him from you again and again?

But as the sobs wracked your body, a chilling thought seeped in, cutting through the chaos of emotion. There was no more turning back. No more changing it.

This was it.

The realization settled like an iron weight in your chest. The pattern had been set. No matter how many times you tried, no matter how much you begged, you could never change it. There was no undoing this. Hyunjin was slipping through your fingers, and the very act of trying to rewrite what had happened was only dragging you deeper into the pit of despair.

You weren’t just caught in a loop; you were trapped in fate. The cruel, unyielding truth whispered its bitter song to you, and in that moment, you understood: You were never going to save him.

The machine clicked, breaking your thoughts, and the photo slid from the tray. Your hands shook violently as you reached for it, the trembling only intensifying as you saw the face that had haunted you in every waking moment.

There he was—smiling. Alive.His eyes sparkling with life, just as they had before. Just as they would never again.

Hyunjin.

In the photo, his smile was everything you remembered. The way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the way he had always managed to make you feel like everything would be okay. You could hear his laugh in your mind, see the light in his eyes, the man who was so full of life. The version of him you lost.

You held the photo close to your chest, tears falling freely as you stared at it. The cold, hard truth slammed into you, suffocating any breath you had left. This moment, this piece of him, was all you would ever have. And it was slipping away, just like he had.

You realized, then, with devastating clarity, that no matter how many times you tried to change things, no matter how many chances you took, the story would never change.

There was no more turning back.

Hyunjin was gone. The weight of the finality crushed you—crushed your soul. The endless ache was now a permanent part of you, a scar you would carry for the rest of your days.

The photo fell from your hands, the sound of the paper hitting the floor the only thing that echoed in the silence of the booth. And you let the tears fall freely, knowing that no matter how much you wanted to rewrite history, you could never save him.

Hyunjin was gone. And that was the truth you couldn’t escape.

You stepped out of the photo booth, the night air heavy around you, thick with the weight of what had just unfolded. You stood there for a moment, gazing at the booth, as if it held the answers to questions you no longer had the courage to ask. Its dim glow flickered, casting fleeting shadows on your face, each one a reminder of something lost, something irretrievable. You couldn’t escape the feeling that this was the last time you’d ever see it, the last time you’d ever hold on to the fleeting moments it offered.

You reached into your pocket, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the pack of cigarettes you’d grown so accustomed to. Your breath hitched, your heartbeat louder than the world around you. Pulling one out, you lit it with the flick of your lighter, the flame briefly dancing in the cold, before being smothered by the wind. You inhaled deeply, the burn in your lungs a small relief, a distraction from the emptiness that seemed to grow by the second.

You exhaled, watching the smoke spiral upward, dissipating into the night, as if carrying all the pain with it. “This is it, my love,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, caught somewhere between resignation and acceptance. “I don’t know how, but I will… just for you.”

A tear slid down your cheek, the cold night air stinging your skin. You closed your eyes, fighting the suffocating grief that threatened to pull you under. The silence of the night seemed endless, just as endless as the lessons you were forced to learn.

You opened your eyes, staring at the photo booth once more, the memories flooding back. The laughter. The love. The hope. And the devastating truth.

“Having to learn to live without you,” you murmured softly, the words heavy on your tongue, “is a lesson I never wanted to learn.”

And with that, you took another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs, letting the pain become a part of you.

The End.

©️strangevynl ; I hope everyone enjoyed this series, this story was also inspired by an old cdrama that me and my siblings watched back then. It was so vivid but I remembered it was impactful that I still did not forget it even if it was so long ago. But yes I hope everything goes well for everyone. See you in another decade.

taglist for this series🏷️; none yet!

Call It What You Want

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI

Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff

Summary: You and Hyunjin have been doing this 'friends with benefits' thing for a while now. But let's be real. You love him. And when he starts showing similar feelings, you're terrified. And it leads to a whole lot of Hyunjin-style drama.

“Fuck, princess,” Hyunjin groaned, voice wrecked, “you’re so tight.”

He had you pinned to the bed, as he fucked you like the world’s about to end. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust hitting so deep you’re seeing stars. Galaxies even. His lips were on your neck, sucking bruises - which would have your art class whispering for weeks.

You pressed your eyes shut, losing yourself in him completely. The way he moved in and out of you. The soft wet sounds that filled the room. And him whispering the filthiest things in your ear.

You were barely coherent, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. Hyunjin had this glint in his eye, as he shifted slightly, hitting that spot, and you choked out a moan, tugging at his short dark strands.

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers circling your clit, and your orgasm hit you so hard, and you whimpered his name, clenching around him so tight, making him curse.

His thrusts turned sloppy as he whispered, “Fuck, that’s it,”

He came just as hard, burying himself deep inside you, and you were both panting, sweaty messes when he finally collapsed beside you. Pulling you close, he kissing your temple, and you let yourself enjoy it, just for a second.

It started about an year ago at a frat party you were dragged to by your friend, Jennie. You’d been sulking in a corner, nursing a warm beer, when Hyunjin, already tipsy, waltzed over, and declared you “the hottest grump he’d ever seen.” You’d scoffed at him, but in less than ten minutes, you had somehow ended up making out in his room upstairs.

One thing led to another, and now you were in this absurd, hilarious mess called, friends with benefits.

---

Hyunjin: You left your glasses on my nightstand. I can bring it over

You: Bring it to class tomorrow

Hyunjin: I’m keeping them hostage. 

You: Hyunjin 🙄

Hyunjin: Sleepover tomorrow? I’ll make pancakes.  

You: Maybe. But only for the pancakes.  

Hyunjin: Liar. You want my pancakes and you know what.

Hyunjin: Night, Nerd Queen 😘

You: Night, Hwang.  

---

You smiled at your phone, heart doing that stupid flip again. You knew you shouldn't be feeling like this. You two were friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. But every time you were with him, you fell for his stupid smile and his childish self way harder than you liked to admit. 

It was a Friday night, and you were curled up in your dorm, binge-watching a new series, when your phone started buzzing.

Hyunjin's frat was organizing a party, and he was probably charming the socks off everyone with his stupidly perfect face. You were trying to stay strong - no running to him tonight - because if you kept giving in to his every whim, he would surely figure out that you were completely, pathetically in love with his dramatic ass. 

And that was a secret you kept locked in a vault.

But Hyunjin? He wasn't making it easy. Your phone lit up again, and you caved, glancing at the screen.

---

Hyunjin: Babbyyyyyy where are you 😭 This party sucks without you! 

Hyunjin: Seriously, come over. I miss your face.  

You: You’re drunk, aren’t you? I’m staying in. Go flirt with your bros. 

Hyunjin: Drunk? Me? Pshh. Ok maybe a lil. But I only wanna flirt with youuuu.

Hyunjin: Come over, I’m lonely.

You: Lonely? Go cuddle Felix.

Hyunjin: Felix doesn’t moan like u do. 

You: Nope. I’m in my PJs, and I'm comfy. You’re on your own tonight.  

Hyunjin: I'm coming to you then. Can't escape me.  

You: Hyunjin, no. Stay at your party. You’re too drunk to walk across campus.  

Hyunjin: Too late. I'm on my way. Gonna cuddle you so hard you forget ur own name. 😤  

You: Oh my god. 

Hyunjin: I'm gonna climb into your bed and never leave. 

You: I’m locking my door.  

Hyunjin: You won't. You love me too much. 😘 Be there in 10. Wear that sweater I like.

---

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. You should lock your door, but you don’t. Instead, you fix your hair, pull on that oversized sweater (the one he liked, because apparently you’re weak). Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again, and you hated it. You were supposed to be the cool, studious introvert. But here you were. 

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it, and there he was, looking like a dishevelled Greek god. His short hair and forehead glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and his leather jacket slipping off one shoulder.

He gave you a sunny smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“My girl!” he slurred, stumbling forward and wrapping you in a sloppy hug. He smelled like beer and his cologne, and it was so unfairly intoxicating. “Told ya I’d come. Missed you so much.”

“You’re so drunk, Jinnie,” you said, but you were smiling as you guided him inside, shutting the door. “How did you even make it across campus without falling into a bush?”

“Love,” he declared dramatically, flopping onto your bed. “Love gave me wings.”

He patted the bed, saying “C’mere, nerd. I need cuddles.”

Then he decided that he couldn't wait, and grabbed your wrist, tugging you down next to him. You landed with a squeak, and he immediately buried his face in your neck, nuzzling like a needy puppy.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Like… home and sexy books.”

“Sexy books?” You laughed, pushing at his chest, but he’s clinging to you like a koala. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “God, I love you.”

He's drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it. But your poor heart wished that he did. Meanwhile, his hands slid under your sweater, and you yelped as his cold fingers grazed you stomach to move up and cup your breasts.

“Hyunjin! Your hands are freezing!”

“Then warm me up,” he whined, and before you could stop him, he was crawling under your sweater, tugging it up and burrowing into it. “Lemme in, it’s cozy in there.”

“Oh my god, you won't fit under my sweater!” you laughed.

He was wiggling, his head and shoulders all the way under the fabric.

“You’re gonna rip it!” you squealed, but he just hummed, pressing his face into the space between your breasts. 

“Worth it,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Wanna live here forever. You’re so soft. And warm.”

You were dying, torn between shoving him off and melting at how stupidly cute he was. He was still trying to fit into your sweater, but finally gave up with a huff and whine and said, “Fine.”

And then settled for wrapping his entire body around you instead. He threw a leg over yours, arms squeezing you tight, face buried in your chest (half submerged in your sweater).

“This’ll do. For now.” he said, and you hummed, stroking his back. 

“You’re such a baby,” you said, and you both remained silent as his breathing slowed and you thought he was falling asleep. But then he murmured, “Love you…so fucking much. You’re my everything.”

Your heart stopped. You froze, hand still on his back, waiting for him to laugh it off or say something dumb. But he just snuggled closer, sighing like he was finally at peace. You swallowed hard, emotions bubbling up.

You loved him too. His childish giggles, his unhinged texts - but saying it felt too big, too scary. So you just hold him, letting the moment linger.

“Sleep, you idiot,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head (poking out through the neckline of your sweater). He hummed, already half-gone, and soon he was snoring softly, clinging to you like you’re his lifeline.

---

Hubby: Morning, wifey 😘 You're so cute when you sleep. Didn't wanna wanna wake you up. Let's go get some breakfast?

You: WIFEY? You changed your contact name to HUBBY? Hyunjin, I’m going to murder you.  

Hubby: Murder your husband? Harsh, babe.

You: You’re not my husband. You’re a silly boy who needs to stop stealing my phone.  

Hubby: I don’t have to steal anything. You're mine. Your phone’s mine. Deal with it, nerd.

You: You're delusional.

Hubby: Call it what you want

Hubby: Now come gimme a kiss, I’m dying😩  

---

You rolled your eyes, yet you were grinning like an idiot before kicking your feet and squealing into your pillow.

---

Later that day, you were in the library, trying to study, but Hyunjin had other plans. 

---

Hubby: Wifey, I’m lonely 😢 Lets study together. 

You: Stop calling me that. And I’m not falling for your tricks. I’m studying.  

Hubby: Tricks? Don't be so mean my love

You: I’m muting you.  

Hubby: You can’t mute your soulmate. Be real fir once, you can't resist me. 

You:  You're so full of yourself.

Hubby: Come over and you'll be full of me too 😉

You: Omg HYUNJIN. 

Hubby: Lmao you're so easy to rile up. Ok, I’ll be good. Love u, wifey. 

---

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. He was so stupidly endearing, and you hated how much you loved it. You were about to reply when a shadow fell over your table. You looked up, and there stood Hyunjin, holding a coffee and grinning. 

“Surprise, wifey!” he said, loud enough for it to echo through the library. He slid into the seat across from you, completely ignoring everyone’s glares. “Coffee for my love.”

“You’re not my husband,” you hissed, but you took the coffee. “And how are you even here? Don’t you have class?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning forward, chin in his hands. “Had to see you. I knew you'd be wearing those glasses and looking so cute…makes me wanna bend you over this table.”

Your jaw dropped, and you kicked him under the table. “Hyunjin! We’re in a library!”

He laughed, unbothered, and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Can’t help it.” 

You snatched your hand back, face burning.

“You’re insane. Go away before I get kicked out.”

“Nope,” he said again, scooting closer until his knee brushed yours. “I’m staying. Gotta protect my wife from nerdy predators.”

He winked, and you were so torn, because you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe this was real. But this whole thing started off on sex. And you were worried that he'd get bored and he'd get over you. 

You tried to focus on your notes, but Hyunjin was making it absolutely impossible - humming softly, doodling “Mr. & Mrs. Hwang” in your notebook. You give him a glare and yanked your book away, ruining the cute doodle he was working on. 

He gave you a pouty look, and you narrowed your eyes at him. The usual Hyunjin would whine or tackle you into a hug. But he did none of that. Instead he stood up, putting your pen down as he held your gaze, and then just walked away. 

You watched him disappear, and for the first time ever, you were terrified. 

It has been three days since the library incident, and you’re losing your mind. No “wifey,” no texts about bending you over a library table. 

Nothing. Just… silence. The worst part? You missed it. You missed his childish whining, his needy cuddles, his sweet face. You tried to play it cool, but by day four, you were a mess.

You had just finished class and were walking towards the campus cafe, when you spotted him. Hyunjin. Reading. You did a double take, nearly spilling your drink. Since when did Hwang Hyunjin, read a book that thick? He was sitting under a tree, leaning against the trunk, looking so soft in his hoodie and glasses (glasses?!). Your heart squeezed, but you were also annoyed.

You marched over, plopping down next to him. He glanced up, one eyebrow raised, and went back to his book. No grin, no nothing. Just a cool, “Hey.”

“Hey?” you repeated, incredulous. “That’s it? Why are you ignoring me?”

He closed his book, looking at you with a neutral expression that was so unlike him it was creepy.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just… reading.”

“Reading?” You narrowed your eyes. “You haven’t spoken to me in days. What’s your deal?”

He shrugged, and said, “Figured you were sick of my ‘needy bullshit.’ You kept telling me to stop, so I stopped.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. He was being… serious?

“I didn’t mean stop everything. You’re acting like we’re strangers.” you snapped.

“I’m giving you space,” he said, his voice is tight. “You said I was too much. So, here’s not-too-much Hyunjin. Happy?”

Happy? You were miserable. But he was staring at you, all sulky and gorgeous, and you realized that he was on strike. No kisses, no touching, no sex. He was punishing you for resisting, and oh, it was working.

“You’re pouting,” you said, poking his cheek.

He swatted your hand away, but there was a flicker of his usual playfulness.

“Am not,” he muttered, turning back to his book. “Go study or whatever. I’m fine.”

You stared, heart twisting. He was hurt, and you did this. You pushed him away, and now he has dialled it back to zero. But you weren't letting him win this. You needed your Hyunjin back, drama and all.

You couldn't take another day of this cold-shoulder nonsense. You mustered the courage for what you were about to do, and walked to the frat house. Ignoring the party raging downstairs, you headed straight for Hyunjin’s room. You didn't knock - you just barged in, and there he was, at his desk, sketching. He was in a loose tank top, hair messy, pencil moving with that focused intensity that made him look so unfairly hot. He glanced up, startled, then leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Ever heard of knocking?” he asked, but there was a spark in his eyes, like he'd been waiting for you.

“Nope,” you said, shutting the door. “We need to talk.”

He raised an eyebrow, playing it cool, but that pout’s still there, lingering. “Talk then. I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, heart pounding. You’ve been resisting him for months, pretending you were not in love with him. But you were done fighting. You reached into your pocket and pull out the ring pop you had bought on a whim at the campus store - a cheap plastic band with a strawberry-flavored candy “diamond.” It was ridiculous, but you were desperate.

“Hyunjin,” you said, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was scared. Because I have wanted more for a while now. I don't want to be someone you sleep with. I wanna be more. I miss you. I miss being your wifey. I miss you so damn much.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything, so you kept going, holding up the candy ring.

“You wanna be my husband? Fine. Here’s your ring. Marry me, you idiot.”

For a second, he just stared, and you felt like you'd broken him. Then his face blooms - eyes sparkling, cheeks flushing, grin so wide it could overshadow the sun. He looked so happy, so Hyunjin, it was like the room got brighter.

“Wifey,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re proposing? With a candy ring? Fuck, that’s so cute. I think I'm gonna cry.”

“Please don’t cry,” you said, but you’re grinning too, heart racing. “Just say yes so I can stop feeling like an idiot.”

“Yes yes yes,” he said, jumping up and grabbing your face, kissing you so hard you stumbled back. His lips were soft and desperate, and you kissed him back, hands tangling in his hair, and it was like the world snapped back into place. He was yours, drama and all, and you were his.

The kiss deepened, all tongue and heat, and you were both gasping, pulling at each other like you’ve been starved. He lifted you onto his desk, knocking over his pencils and sketchbooks, and you laughed against his mouth.

“Careful, Hubby,” you teased, and he groaned, kissing you harder.

“Say it again,” he murmured, hands sliding under your shirt, warm and needy. “Please.”

“Hubby,” you whispered and he practically whimpered, pressing himself closer, lips trailing down your neck. You made out for what felt like hours, all sloppy kisses and wandering hands, until your lips were swollen and your hearts pounding.

Finally, you pulled back, both of you panting. He had the candy ring on his finger, and he looked so genuinely happy and excited.

“I love you so much,” he said, holding up his hand to admire the ring. “Strawberry’s my favorite.”

“You’re such a dork,” you mumbled, but you were beaming, because he’s your dork. “I love you, Jinnie.”

---

Hubby: My heart’s gonna explode.  

You: You survived the strike, you’ll live.

Hubby: Never. You looked so hot with that ring, though. Oh fuck, I'm hard again. 

You: HYUNJIN. Behave for five seconds.  

Hubby: Can’t. I’m married to the hottest nerd ever. I’m gonna kiss you forever.

You: I love you baby

Hubby: Fuck, I love you. My wifey. My nerdy goddess. I’m never shutting up again, you know that, right?  

You: Good. I missed your dramatic ass. 

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

hello you magnificent human being.

I see your requests are open and I’m always ready to send my ideas to capable writers haha

so: Seungmin + angsty angst + redemption + happy ending (bc I’m a weak and unstable bitch)

reader is pregnant, at the beginning maybe she knows, maybe not. Seungmin is having some existencial crisis (maybe he feels like he’s not living he’s youth as he should), gets distant, neglecting his relationship. he cheats on reader (maybe not, and it only looks like it), reader finds out, confronts him, he says some really mean words about her, the relationship, the baby. maybe (I know, tons of maybes, I have ideas but also want to give you freedom to write whatever you want! hahaha) he implies he doesn’t want the baby or mentions something about an abortion?

however the reader reacts, what he does after, the redemption and else is up to u.

I hope you like the idea as much as I do. happy writing🧚🏼‍♀️

Fractured Foundations | Seungmin

Synopsis: When secrets flow and hearts break during an argument, you are left wondering why you entered into this relationship.

Pairing: bf!Seungmin x fem!reader

Genre: Angst. So. Much. Angst. (But a fluffy ending!)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of drinking, implied cheating (he does not), arguing, mentions of Seungmin not wanting the baby, break-up This is a pretty triggering fiction, so if you need to skip this one, please feel free to!

Notice: No, I did not sob my eyes out while I was writing this; what are you referring to?! Nevertheless, my darling! Your suggestion is out of this world, and it broke my heart just reading it! The only thing I did not include was the idea of abortion just due to some past experiences of mine and because the topic is insanely controversial; however, I hope you enjoy the story all the same ! As I stated in the warnings, this fiction is one that is more on the triggering side, so please feel free to skip out on reading if you need to :)

The apartment felt cold, even with the heater on full blast. You sat curled up on the couch, a half-forgotten mug of hot chocolate cooling in your hands; your eyes were fixated on the little plastic stick on the coffee table. The two faint lines stared back at you, blurring slightly through your tears.

You should have been happy; this is what you have been dreaming of for so long - to start a family and have a minature you running around the house. Yet, all you could feel was an ache deep in your heart - one that had been festering for weeks.

Seungmin had not been the same lately, and you could sense it. He was not the boy who used to hold your hand under the table at crowded restaurants or sneak kisses when he thought nobody was looking. He was not the man who used to talk about the future like he could not wait to spend every moment of it with you. He was not the man who shared your dream of settling down and beginning a family of your own.

These days, he came home late, smelling like a mix of winter air, cigarettes, alcohol, and someone else's perfume. He did not touch you like he used to, and he did not look at you with the love he had once felt if he even made the effort to glance your way at all.

You tightened your grip on the mug, the ceramic bearing into your palms. The words you had practiced in your head over and over felt heavy in your throat.

How do you tell somebody you love that you are carrying their child when you are not even for certain that they still want you?

The sound of the door unlocking snapped you out of your consuming thoughts. You wiped at your face quickly as Seungmin stepped inside, his shoulders stiff and his expression unreadable.

"You're home," you commented softly, forcing a smile.

"Yep," he muttered, kicking off his shoes without looking at you. He walked past the couch, heading straight for the bedroom.

"Seungmin?" Your voice cracked slightly, and you hated how desperate it sounded. "Can we talk?"

"I'm tired," he stated as he stalled in the doorway, his back still turned to you. "Can it wait 'til tomorrow?"

"I don't think it can." You swallowed the lump in your throat, your fingers trembling against the cooling mug.

He turned then, his face annoyed and his eyes carrying a sharp, distant stare.

"What is it?"

The words were right there, ready to spill out. Yet, as you looked at him - the man you used to know better than he knew himself - you doubled down.

"I..." you hesitated, suddenly unsure. "I just want to make sure you're okay. You've been pretty distant lately."

Seungmin sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Just stressed."

"About what?" you pressed gently.

"Work. Life. Everything and anything." He glanced at you then, his tone hardening. "And I certainly don't need you breathing down my neck right now, so just drop this."

Your stomach twisted, a painful knot forming in your chest. You wanted to cry, to scream, to break down and tell him everything. Instead, you nodded, your barely audible voice mumbling an, "Okay."

Seungmin disappeared into the bedroom, leaving you alone in silence.

For the first time, you had felt like you were truly alone.

---

The days that followed felt like they were unfolding in slow motion, each one darker than the last. Seungmin stayed locked in his own world, a stranger in the home you had built together. His absence lingered, even when he was physically present, silence replacing the laughter you once shared.

You told yourself to wait for the right moment to bring it up, to tell him about the baby, but the fear of his reaction gnawed at your gut. Every time you opened your mouth, his distant gaze or clipped tone shut you down.

The breaking point came one Friday night.

Seungmin had been out late again, the smell of whiskey clinging to him as he stumbled through the door. You were sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of untouched food in front of you.

"Seungmin," you called, your voice shaking slightly. "We need to talk. it can't wait any longer."

"Not this again," he groaned, leaning against the wall as he kicked off his shoes.

"I'm serious," you stood up as your hands trembled. "I can't keep doing this. You're never here, and when you are, it feels like you aren't. What's going on with you?"

"What's going on with me?" he repeated, his tone slurring out of frustration. "You're the one who's always picking fights here recently."

"Picking fights?" Your voice rose, anger bubbling over your previously meek demeanor. "I'm trying to save this relationship, Seungmin! You won't talk to me! You won't let me in!"

"Maybe because I don't want to, y/n!" he snapped, cutting you off.

The words hit you like a harsh slap; you stared at him, your heart pounding so hard you felt it in your ears.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm suffocating, okay?" He clenched his jaw, rubbing his temples aggresively. "This life we have? It's not what I wanted."

"Not what you wanted?" Tears blurred your vision as you took a shaky step backwards, nearly stumbling in the process. Seugmin exhaled sharply, pacing the small space of the kitchen.

"I'm 24, for fucks sake. I should be out living my life, not tied down to some boring routine."

"You feel tied down?" you echoed, your voice breaking. "Is that all I am to you? Some weight holding you back?"

"I don't know!" he shouted, his emotioned boiling over. "I don't know what I want anymore, but I do know that I can't keep pretending that everything is fine when it clearly isn't!"

The room fell silent, save for the sound of your muffled, shaky sobs. Slowly, you reached into your jacket pocket, pulling out the small ultrasound photo you had been carrying around for days.

"Maybe this will help you figure it out," you responded, your voice quiet, trembling even as you placed it on the counter in front of him.

Seungmin frowned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced down at the photo. When realization dawned, his expression twisted into something you could not quite discern - shock, confusion, maybe even rage.

"You're...you're pregnant?"

"Yes!" you replied, tears cascading down your face. "I found out a couple weeks ago, and I just went to the doctor to confirm it. I didn't tell you sooner because I knew, I knew this was how you were going to react."

Seungmin shook his head, a stressed hand clamped onto his forehead.

"This can't be happening."

"What do you mean?" you demanded, your voice rising several octaves. "This is happening, Seungmin. We're going to be parents, and you don't get to act like it's some inconvenience!"

"Inconvenience?" he repeated, his voice hard. "Do you know what this means? We're not ready for this! I'm not ready for this. I don't even know if I want-"

"Don't you dare," you cut him off, your voice growling with anger. "Don't you dare say something you can't take back."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to keep it."

The words hung in the air like a knife between you: sharp and unforgiving. Your breath hitched, your hands shaking as you stepped back from him.

"You're unbelievable," you whispered, pain prominent in your tone. "You know what? I'm done. You can figure out what you want without me here, because I'll be damned if I raise our child in an environment where I am treated like this."

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your coat off of the rack in the living room, slamming the door behind you as you walked out.

---

You did not know where you were going, but anything felt better than the asphyxiating walls of that apartment. Your hands gripped the steering wheel as you drove aimlessly, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. The world outside blurred into a kaleidoscope of color. You could not stop thinking about what Seungmin had said.

"Maybe you should've thought about that before deciding to keep it."

The statement echoed over and over, each repetition cutting deeper than the last. You pulled into an empty parking lot and parked the car, burying your face in your hands as sobs washed over your body.

How had it come to this? The man you loved, the man you thought you would spend forever with, had looked you in the eyes and shattered every hope you had held onto.

After a few moments, the tears slowed, leaving you hollow and exhausted. You reached for your phone, scrolling through your contacts until you landed on a familiar name.

"Hello?" a groggy voice answered after the second ring.

"Changbin," you sobbed. "I need somewhere to stay."

---

The apartment was eerily quiet without you. Seungmin stood in the middle of the living room, holding the ultrasound photo you had left behind.

He felt horrible.

The anger and frustration that had fueled his words had disappeared, replaced by a sickening pit in his stomach. He had not meant to say half of the things that he did, but in the moment, it all came tumbling out.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath, sinking into the couch. He could not stop playing the look on your face - the way your shoulders had slumped, the tears in your eyes and anger in your voice as you left.

For the first time in weeks, he let himself confront the feelings he had been burying. The truth was, he was terrified. Terrified of losing his freedom, of not being good enough for you, and now of fatherhood. Instead of talking to you about it, however, he had lashed out, pushing you away when he needed you the most.

Seungmin stared at the ultrasound again, his thumb brushing over the tiny image.

'That's my baby.'

The thought sent a wave of emotion crashing over him, of fear yes, but also a deep unfamiliar sense of awe.

Yet, he was convinced he had already ruined everything.

---

Changbin greeted you at the front door in sweatpants and a hoodie, his face full of concern.

"What happened?" he questioned, his voice filled with concern but also tiredness. You shook your head, not able to speak without choking up. He ushered you inside, grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders.

"Take your time," he told you softly, sitting beside you.

The story spilled out in fragments - your fears about the pregnancy, Seungmin's distance, the fight, everything. By the time you had finished, Changbin looked angrier than you had ever seen him.

"That idiot," he mumbled under his breath. "I swear, I'm going to knock some sense into him."

"Don't," you replied quickly, your voice hoarse. "It's over, Changbin. I'm not going back." Changbin frowned but did not argue; instead, he pulled you into a comforing hug.

"You don't have to decide on anything right now. Just focus on taking care of yourself, okay?"

---

The next morning, Seungmin woke up to an empty apartment and a gut-wrenching sense of dread. He had tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Panic set in when he realized he had no idea where you had gone.

It was not until later that day that he worked up the nerve to text Changbin.

'Is she with you?'

'She's safe. But don't plan on coming here. She needs space.

Seungmin sank down onto the couch, running a hand through his hair. You were safe, and that was all that mattered for now, but he knew that he could not leave things like they were.

The empty apartment was becoming unbearable; Seungmin missed the warmth of your embrace at night, the sleepy sounds you yawned in the morning, everything. Nothing felt right without you there.

His first attempt to fix things was impulsive; he showed up to Changbin's house unannounced, despearate to see you.

Changbin opened the door, his expression a mixture of disappointment and stifled frustration.

"She doesn't want to see you."

"I know I messed up," Seungmin responded. "I just need to explain-"

"You don't get to explain," Changbin cut him off. "Not yet, at least. You can't just apologize and expect her to forget everything that happened."

Seungmin faltered, shame washing over him.

"Then what do I do?"

Changbin sighed, his tone softening slightly.

"Figure out why you acted the way you did. Fix yourself, then fix the relationship."

---

Seungmin took Changbin's words to heart. For the first time in weeks, he had sought out therapy.

Sitting in the therapist's office, he struggled to put his thoughts into words.

"I feel trapped," he had finally admitted. "Like my life is moving faster than I can keep up with, and I took it out on my girlfriend." The therapist nodded, encouraging him to continue. "I think I'm scared. Scared of failing her, of failing the baby, of being stuck in a life I don't know if I'm ready for."

"That's understandable," the therapist gently assured. "But you need to know that running from your fears doesn't make them go away; it just hurts the ones you care about."

Seungmin left the session feeling lighter, though the weight of his actions was still pressing down on him.

He knew he could not fix things overnight, but he wanted to show you how serious he was about changing.

He started small, dropping off groceries at Changbin's house, knowing that you would not accept them from him directly. He began attending prenatal classes on his own, learning everything he could about what you were going through.

One day, he left a note for you with a small gift; it was a baby onesie that read, "I already have the best mom."

---

Weeks passed before you agreed to see him. You met at a park, the winter air crisp and cool. Seungmin looked nervous, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he approached.

"I'm not here to ask you to forgive me," he began, his voice steady but soft. "I just want you to know how sorry I am."

You crossed your arms, giving him a wary, "Go on."

He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours.

"I was selfish, and I let my fear and insecurities control me, and I hurt you in ways I can't even begin to make up for. You didn't deserve that."

"You're right," you replied quietly. "I don't." Seungmin nodded, swallowing hard.

"I can't change what I said, but I'm working on being better, for you, for our baby, and for myself. I understand if you never want to be with me again, but I'll always be here for our child. No matter what."

His sincerity caught you off guard. For the first time in weeks, you saw a glimpse of the man you had initially fell in love with.

---

The months that followed were not easy. You let Seungmin attend the doctor's appointments with you, but you kept your defenses up. Seungmin did not push; he showed up for every appointment, every class, and every moment you allowed him to be apart of. He listened more than he spoke, letting his actions do the talking.

One night, after a particularly long day, he found you sitting in the nursery, staring at the crib. You were far along at this point, about six or seven months; the realization of having this baby was finally beginning to set in.

"Everything okay?" Seungmin asked gently, leaning against the doorframe.

"It's just...a lot," you hesitated before nodding. Seungmin walked over, standing behind you and resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms gently around your belly.

"I know, but you're not alone in this. Not anymore."

---

A few months later, you found yourself laying in the delivery room, clutching Seungmin's hand as your baby lay in the hospital's makeshift cradle just in the corner of the room. Seungmin's cheeks were stained with tears, his love evident within his expression as he walked over to the baby.

"I didn't think it was possible to feel so much love," he whispered, his voice breaking. You smiled through your exhaustion, watching as he gently cradled the baby for the first time.

In that moment, you knew he had changed.

And as he leaned down you press a gentle kiss to your forehead, you felt it too - the hope of a new beginning.

﴾ let me blow your mind

pairing: badboy!han jisung x f!reader

genre: one-shot, high school au, smut

word count: 10,1K

warnings: a lot of marking! ⋆ groping! ⋆ biting!⋆ light!spanking ⋆ experienced!han and inexperienced!reader ⋆ dry humping ⋆ oral (f. and m. receiving) ⋆ dirty talking (han has a nasty mouth) ⋆ cunnilingus ⋆ squirting ⋆ face!cumshot

summary: you noticed him watching you from afar, though it never occurred to you why han jisung, the school’s bad boy, would be watching a shy, nerdy girl like you, but before you can even blink, you are thrown into a world of pleasure and right into his greedy hands

request by @khandzilla

──────────────────────

He thinks you are doing it on purpose. Your teeth nibbling, chewing at your pencil. Pink tinted lips, wrapping around it and staining it — and he just knows that the lip balm you always apply is strawberry flavored. You always sit at the front of the class, like the good student that you are and even from the back of the room, he can see the sweat glistening on your skin. In his opinion schools should not be open at such weather, but he isn’t that against it, because he could see more of your white thigh highs sliding down your yummy thighs. Such a good student — there has never been a day when he hasn’t seen you wearing the school uniform. You always made it look so good and especially when the weather was too much your luscious skin to handle. The sleeves of your white blouse are rolled up and to his delight few buttons undone at the top, but to his displeasure hair not put up to show off your neck. Everyday he tried to at least catch a glimpse of new skin.

But it wasn’t enough for him. He ignores his friends snickering, the loud noise disturbing his thoughts for a split second. His head falls into his hand, leaning to the side when of the students moves before him and into his view. He is only pulled away from his thoughts when you turn around to look at the teacher. He only at that realized that the teacher is walking around the class to hand out their graded tests. Han doesn’t even have to see it, he knows that he totally blew it. It didn’t matter, l the only good grade that matters is yours.

No, he doesn’t want to say that it’s a crush. To be honest it’s a borderline obsession. He wouldn’t go to school so often if you weren’t there, he doesn’t even care about keeping up his reputation anymore. He had basically memorized your whole schedule — you are always the first person in class, glasses almost falling off your nose as you are always buried in some textbook, you are always eating few pieces of fruit during the third break — strawberries, just like your lip balm, are your favorite, then your are eating lunch at the far corner of the cafeteria where you are looking out of the window and mostly, he memorized how you would always push your skirt down — how your tits would strain against your blouse and how you would apply your lip balm with that cute pout — there’s a individual obsession just with your lips and he wonders if they taste just as sweet as the look…and from what he has seen, you are also super sweet. He doesn’t talk to you, he wants to, but it’s way more fun making you flustered when you catch him staring. He wonders if you like him, because you are shy around literally everyone, however he wants to say that he is the one. He didn’t talk to you, just observed you, waiting for the golden opportunity to arrive and when the teacher goes to hand him his test he sees it.

Han notices the teacher’s frown before even seeing his score. “Do something about it, buddy…” Sighs out Mr. Lee, his tone almost sounding fatherly. Pity is the last thing Han wants, and he knows his friends won’t offer it anyway. They laugh at his score, loudly cheering when one of them matches it. Zero, in bold red and circled, just as he expected. He’s never been good at this sort of thing — put him in an English class and he will score the highest, when it comes to a physics test, only one person can do that.

Han looks up from the paper, eyes going back to the front and he has to hide a small smile appearing on his face, when he sees you already looking at him. Just from the corner of your eye, subtly, masking it as if you are looking at the teacher who happens to reach your desk at that moment. You tried to be sneaky, but when you met his eyes, you instantly look away, almost giving yourself a whiplash. “Good job, Y/N.” Says the teacher and you flash him a small smile of gratitude, putting your 100% marked test on your desk. And then Han sees it.

Maybe it’s easier than he thought.

────

You already sprayed the entire capsule of your portable perfume on yourself. You are sweating from head to toe and you for the first time wished that you were wearing anything other than your uniform right now. Even if your tie is loose, it feels like it’s choking you, scratching at your neck. You also hope no one, especially him, can smell your nerves. You feel like you died a little when you caught him staring again and you know, you can’t possibly face him anymore. You are already in rush you want to say, few hours of classes still ahead of you, so when you dash out the door that’s your excuse. Though can’t help, but wonder if he will ever talk to you and just as the thought crosses your mind, you hear someone call out to you.

“Y/N—“ The well known voice sings out your name. You feel your heart jumping, stopping in the packed hallway. You feel so many eyes on you right now, the cheerleaders few feet away from you, glaring daggers at you. You are already feeling hot, but now you are sweating just from the way he said your name. To be honest you thought he didn’t even know you which is kind of stupid — you always catch him looking at you, but you want to say that it is just a coincidence every single time. You slowly turn around and you breathe out shakily when he literally jumps right in front of you.

Han breathes heavily, chest rising up and down and you can’t look at him when his shirt is so open that you think he should be dress coded. Your eyes fall onto his tie instead, hanging low on his neck, but you still see the bright smile on his face. You don’t even want to think about how you two look next to each other. You — hugging your textbooks close to your chest as much as possible to calm your racing heart, hair sticking to your sweaty skin and him — shining brighter than a star, effortlessly gorgeous and confident in his stance.

He pushes his hair back, eyes wide to get a full look at you. You are slouching a little to appear smaller and he almost coos at how cute you look, however his eyes go a little lower and not in innocent manner. No one can judge him for looking down your blouse when your tits are perfectly smashed together and thinking about licking your salty sweat off them. His nose is hit with a big whiff of your perfume and it’s so intoxicating that he almost doubles over. When you push your glasses up on your nose, it pulls him out of the magic spell your perfume held him in. “Are you free after school?” He should’ve said it differently, but the look on your face was definitely worth it.

Your lips parted, finally glancing up at him. You can’t believe those words left his mouth. You feel your heart pounding, ears ringing. However when you give a small glance your eyes drift behind him instead. “Ehm…” Your eyes fall on his friends, leaning on the lockers and staring right at the two of you. They have their lips turned up into smiles and you hope it’s not what you think it is. This can’t be just some kind of joke, because when your eyes drift back to Han his eyes are shinning with hope. “Why?” You ask, quietly not being able to look at him fully from how intensely his stare is.

“Well—“ Han notices your attention drifting off, eyes going back and forth between him and something behind him. He frowns, turning around to look back and when he sees his friends he almost screams. They are visible making you uncomfortable and even if their smiles were nothing, but teasing, he doesn’t want you looking anywhere else than him. With the first word still on the tip of his mouth, he blocks your view with his body, resulting in him standing right in front of you. “You’re really good at Mr. Lee’s class.” Han could have gotten to the point a long time ago, but he purposely makes this small conversation last longer, just to shake you up a bit more.

You feel heat traveling to your face, eyes glaring at his tie, but now he is way closer. The fact he is not afraid to walk into your personal bubble should make you uncomfortable and it in some point does, but it also awakens butterflies in your stomach. You become giddy inside and you can’t hide the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, but it quickly fell at his intense look. “Thank you.” You whisper in question, perfectly done eyebrows rising to your forehead at disbelief. Han bites his lips, just like you are doing right now, completely unknowingly and he swears he can taste the strawberries on your mouth from here.

“Will you tutor me?” He asks and you have to step back a little to glance at him better, because you can’t breathe from how close he keeps getting. You pause at the ‘will’, he already knows that you won’t say no. “I suck so bad at physics and if I don’t do good at the next exam, I’m done. Mr. Lee said you are the only one who can safe me.” He says, exaggerating with his big expressions. He huffs, frowns and mostly looks at you with big puppy eyes.

Han drowns in your bashful state when he says the last sentence, you trying not to melt at his feet from the tone of his voice. You are just so overly taken back by this interaction that it is kind of hard to fully take it all in. You are already shocked that he walked up to you, talked to you and now he wants — no, needs your help? You don’t know if you can take it. “I-I—“ Your mouth is open, words at the tip of your tongue. However your mind is empty as you are not even sure what to say to him. Your mind goes back to his smirking friends and then to those jealous cheerleaders whose glares you still feel on your back. So much attention at once and mostly from him. Han waits, hands in his pockets, but both of you already know what you are going to say next. “I-I guess, I can—“

Han claps, the sound startling you, but he doesn’t see it as he looks at ceiling in greatfulness, though you don’t know it is mostly because of something else. “Thank you, Y/N! You’re a savior!” You shrink back at his loud voice, few people passing by you whispering to themselves. You feel hot, ready to pass out. You didn’t say yes, but also not no, you are not really sure what you wanted more — to go home after school or tutor him, well, he seems to know the answer for you. “Meet me before the school after?” Han says, already jumping back to walk back to his friends.

Your shuttering is cute, glasses fogging up at the bottom from your heavy sigh. “Oh, yeah!” Your voice breaks at the end and you want the floor to swallow you whole, but he only flashes you one of his dazzling smiles at the sound.

You stand there frozen in your spot, looking at him with small disbelief. You are already full of anxiety from just imagining yourself talking to him, he on the other hand only feels delight. He beams brightly, ignoring the remarks from his friends to look back at you for the last time. His eyes fall to the back of your thighs, hand keeping up your right sock up and he just can’t wait to see your skin up close again.

────

You are for the rest of the day on high alert, but at the same time and for the first, you see yourself not paying too much attention to your classes. Your hands are shaking, lip quivering. You don’t see Han anymore till lunch, however your eyes are staring into your book, though not even reading. He watched you the whole time, like usually, but other than lunch he didn’t go near you. You noticed that, but maybe you are just delusional, maybe those other times he actually wasn’t really everywhere near you, just like now. Maybe you are actually reading too much into things.

Han on the other hand really tried hard not to go near you. A lot of people were whispering about how there’s something going on between him and the nerdy, shy girl — well, not yet, he wants to say. He stays away from you to make you even more nervous and after school when he finally will meet up with you, you will be all shaken up, shuttering cutely like you always do.

When you stepped out of the school, the sun was already setting. You felt exhausted, but at the same time not at all, because you know you will not be able to relax because of him. For whatever reason…You stood at the end of the stairs to the main entrance, watching people walk by you, chatting. You kept looking down at your phone, reading the time minute by minute. It was getting really late for you and your heart kept beating faster the longer you stood there.

Han thinks he literally breathes just because of you. He can’t help those feelings and the thoughts running through him when he watches you stand there under the stairs, waiting for him. Your hair is tucked behind your ears, glasses hanging low on your nose and he melts when you nervously shift your weight from foot to foot. The way his heart skips a beat when he sees you move to turn around and walk away, breaks him and yet again it pulls him out his thoughts. He can’t let you get away, not when you are already so close, so he runs to catch up with you.

You hear heavy footsteps behind you and you are again startled by a booming voice. “Y/N, wait!” Han yells at you and your ears ring from just how loud he always is. You turn subtly around and he shakes his head at your unusual posture. It looks like you are guarding yourself. “Where are you going?” He asks you, puffing out air.

Shrugging softly, your eyes fall on the lit lamps around you and then the Moon. “Well it’s kind of late…” You are surprised by your leveled voice, but when you turn to look at him your voice dies at the end. You hate when you do that, it’s so embarrassing and even more when infront of him. You are actually surprised he even showed up, because you were really starting to think, it really was a joke after all, but how could you think that? He is so sweet…however, when looking at you, he thinks the exact opposite of himself.

Han is starting to panic a little at your words, walking around you to get a better look at you. “Huh?” He exclaims, glancing at his reflection in your glasses. “You promised to tutor me.” He pouts then, furrowing his eyebrows. You don’t hear the little fake tone in his voice, but his hurt expression melts your guard a little.

You didn’t promise him anything or did you? You can’t even think right now. “The library is closed.” You state softly.

He fights the urge to smirk, smiling only a little. “Yeah, I know.” He definitely knows. “I was thinking about going over to my place…to study of course.” Han drinks up your flustered state, the moment the words left him, you turned away so he wouldn’t see your face of shock. He can taste your shyness on his lips already and he is slowly starting to shake in excitement when you turn back to him.

The thought of going back to his place…it never crossed your mind. You definitely can’t handle being in a basically locked room where there would be just the two of you. On the other hand, you can’t say that the thought isn’t making you curious. “I don’t know…” You mumble, glancing at him briefly.

“Come on—“ He pressed, taking a bold step closer to you. “I won’t keep you up late.” Now there’s that smirk and when you timidly nod, he wants to kneel before you right then and there. The excitement pumping in him almost makes his veins burst, cheeks flushing just by the thought of you sitting on his bed and talking with that cute voice of yours. “Come on then, I won’t bite. It will be just the two of us, don’t worry.” Of course, he didn’t pay his roommate to stay out of their shared flat tonight.

‘Yeah, that’s what worries me’, you think. He walks you two back to his place, you keeping a small distance from him and he definitely didn’t like that. He lets you though, he would let you do anything and everything. Walking with you, his steps are quick, just to have more time with you inside his room. He really wants to know what is going on in the little head of yours. He wants to get under your skin, know your biggest likes and dislikes, fears and desires — what makes you shake. Han is acting crazy around you and you don’t even see it. You are so smart, but also such a dummy...He needs to show you, make you feel what you deserve.

The walk is silent, but it doesn’t take long before you two are standing in the elevator, waiting for it to lift you up to the 10th floor. It’s unusually quiet, no parties, no one in your way and he sees it as a blessing. You are not looking at him, even when you finally get into his shared apartment, but he knows he has your attention. He licks his lips, dry and thirsty and his whole head is spinning when he enters his room with you right behind him.

Your eyes go around his room, genuinely surprised by how clean it is. The walls are full of movie posters, musicians — your eyes land on his desk which is messy on the other hand. When you see the known magazine peeking out of the scattered papers, you instantly feel heat rising to your cheeks. You realize that he has been watching you the whole time when you glance at him and you are weakened by his look. His fingers play with the blue tie around his neck, nibbling at the material, loosening it and you breathe out sharply at the sight.

He finally has you in his room, he couldn’t believe it. “Take a seat.” Han says, gesturing to his unmade bed. Your eyes widened a little and his on the other hand close a little when your fingers just barely graze over his duvet.

“Here?” You mumble, playing with the strap of your shoulderbag.

He laughs, he has to. “Don’t act like you have never been in a boy’s room before.” He snickers, pulling out his phone from his pocket, but he doesn’t hear anything from you. His heart beats faster and he can’t help, but look somehow excited by your silence. “Fuck…really?” He is in disbelief, looking at you, just as you take a seat on the edge of his bed.

He is smiling wide and you thankfully don’t see it, attention on your sock clad feet instead. You are embarrassed to admit it and also too shy to lie. You can’t never lie or say no, it angers you a little, but Han could do that for you if you let him. He could be your voice, yours everything if you let him. Seeing you sitting on his bed, arched back as you fumble inside your bag is not helping him keep his sanity. Your tucked blouse rides up, exposing the skin of your lower back and he has to distract him by going through his playlist.

When you take out your small notebook and your phone, you suddenly hear a soft hum of music from behind you. Turning around, you see Han putting down his speaker which is playing a way too inappropriate song to listen to while studying. The low bass makes you vibrate and the thoughts of doing something completely different fill your mind. Why does he have to keep doing that? He is getting under your skin with his smooth moves and what you want to say, flirting. You don’t even know what it stands for really, maybe playing music while walking to your bed to lay down you means nothing.

“Won’t that be distracting you?” You wonder out loud, eyes still on the speaker even if he goes to sit on the bed with you.

“Not really.” He says, while looking at you. “Just don’t want you to hear my thoughts.” He whispers and you shiver at the tone of his voice, however you masked it well by shuffling a little more up on the bed. His eyes immediately fall down your shirt, watching your tits jump from your moves and he swears he can see the lace of your bra — was it baby pink?

“So what do you need help with?” You cough in your hand not to shutter again and it worked out well for you. You push for glasses up your nose, fanning your skirt so it drapes over your thighs, but from his point of view, he still can thankfully see your skin.

“Everything, honestly.” He laughs shortly.

You nod. “Let’s start with the basics then—“

You swear, he does it on purpose. Pushing his hair back, leaning back on his hands, looking with you with that twinkle in his eyes again and again. You don’t know what it is, you are not sure if you want to know. Every time your mouth would open, his attention drifts away, yet he looks only at you. You can see it in his eyes that he is somewhere else and it definitely reflected in his answers. Every one was incorrect and you don’t want to say that you are starting to get frustrated, but you explained everything to him at least twice, you told him a couple of good ways how to solve the questions, but no.

Also, something else didn’t help you keep your cool either. His room was awfully hot, even worse than a school’s classroom. You want to say it’s the weather, not those fuckboy-like songs — his playlist is vile or the way his also sweaty chest glistened in the city’s lights. The soft night breeze couldn’t reach your skin nor the sounds of cars under his window, you were really starting to drown in yourself. Han kept getting closer and closer, subtly, but after half an hour, it became clear to you. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, like the textbooks, while half of your ass was basically hanging out of the bed. If he gets any closer you think you will start to hyperventilate.

Han of course noticed your behavior. It surely must be because of him, your voice kept going lower, quieter, the more he shuffled closer to you. Your skin was almost drenching with sweat and the way your perfume flooded his whole room, he thinks, he will never open his bedroom window ever again. He can’t say that he also isn’t sweating and you definitely noticed that, because your eyes kept drifting to his naked chest. Maybe he should’ve changed and maybe he should’ve let you borrow something, so he then could cuddle with it later, but it would only ruin his fantasy.

He smiles again at your cute frown of frustration, it’s nice seeing something different on your face. Your pretty voice starts to melt more into the song, the more he looks at you. Never had been in a boys room…huh, he wonders if you have ever been with anyone before. One side is telling him yes, because — fuck, look at you. The school’s uniform looks on you way more sinful that it should and also your plush body, pink lips and pretty eyes hidden behind your glasses. Also you are a sweet person! Why does he keep forgetting about that? You are way more than your looks, you have brains and also charm that you don’t even know about. He wants to do more with you than just this, way more, but his filthy thoughts win over. On the other hand, you are just so shy, has someone ever tasted you? Suck at your pretty neck and tits, grabbed a handful of your ass? Tongue fucked you? Pulled your hair? Choked you? Bit you, mark you up…

“Why are you so tense, Y/N?” He cuts you off, not even realizing it, till your lips press into thin line. “Loosen up a little.”

You sigh, putting down your notebook to pull at your tie. “It’s just so hot…” You feel sweat dripping down your back a little, inner thighs glued together, because you didn’t change your position once in fear you would flash him. ‘Pity’, he thinks, staring at you while pulling off your tie with your painted nails — baby pink, just like your lips.

You literally have him wrapped around your finger, how can you not see it? Maybe if you would for once look at him in the eyes for long enough than you would see it. His eyes like to always drift lower and he just can’t help it when you look like that. Why do you? And why do you not see it yourself? Fuck, he wants to show you how pretty you are…He can’t go any longer, his mind is already all over the place and when he sees a glimpse of your bra, he has to fist his pants. Baby pink, like he imagined — he wonders if it matches.

“Yeah, that blouse is…tight.” Han almost moans out loud, but he thankfully bites down his on lip just in time, silencing that sound. Your own eyes drift to your blouse and then back at him. “You can take it off—“ He voices out his thoughts.

You are bewildered, in disbelief from what he just said. He doesn’t even seemed a little bit moved by his own words, leaning back on his hands, eyes fully on you. Did he look into your textbook at least once? Why didn’t you realize that it was on the same page the whole time? Maybe you were too occupied with trying to sound cool and collected and his nonstop staring didn’t help at all. “I don’t think you are even paying attention.” You sigh, playing with the fabric of your skirt.

“How so?” He asks, eyes going over your body and trying to memorize how it looks in the softly lit room.

“Well, you didn’t answer any of my questions right…” Which doesn’t mean, he was not paying attention, but his eyes tell you that you are right. In your state of pushing up your glasses again, you jump slightly in your seat when he sifts his weight to lean closer to you. “Why are you so close?” You ask, lump forming at the back of your throat.

Han stops moving, sitting right infront of you and trying to have a better look at eyes, but there is only the reflection of your phone screen in your glasses, preventing him from doing so. “Ask me again and if I answer correctly, I’ll get a treat.”

You frown. “Why?” You ask him.

“Motivation.”

There is short silence, the only noise being the music coming from his speaker. You take a small look around his room, squirming in your seat. “What do you mean by a treat? I don’t have any sweets…” You say, confused.

He wonders if you are truly so innocent and oblivious or if you are just playing with him. The sincere tone of your voice though told him everything he needed to know. A treat…he bets your lips taste like one. Han moves even closer, moving away your textbooks and you watch him with careful eyes. “I meant you.” He says smoothly with a cheeky smile and you are smacked across the face with his words.

He surprises you way too much and each time it’s a bigger surprise. You almost choke on your own spit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Oh! Oh, I-I…” And you are shuttering again, like always, but he never seems to mind. You are definitely not capable of talking right now, no words running through your mind, only him. Your hand grasping your phone is shaking and he at that points down at it.

“Ask me.”

You take a deep breath, a couple actually, because it’s seems like you can’t find it. Han’s stare is hard, unmoving from your eyes and you have to look down at your phone. Your thumb hovers over the screen, asking yourself if you should keep going. You are already feeling goosebumps on your sweaty skin, just from the thought of him doing something to you, but…what if he doesn’t answer correctly? Han can’t be serious right now…With your heart hammering against your chest, you scroll down the list of questions, trying to find the hardest one, because you don’t know what you would do if he answers it correctly. You don’t know if you want him to, you don’t know what you want. What does he want? You can’t help, but be curious and scared at the same time.

Han can see your internal struggle, but nothing about your body language is telling him, you don’t actually want him. “When a police officer uses a radar gun to measure a vehicle’s speed, what type of speed is measured? “ You ask, blinking at him in the lightly lit room, voice small. You actually think that this question is not even that hard, but seeing him having trouble with the other ones, you are curious what his answer will be.

Han fights to not smirk, while staring at you and he likes how your breath hitches when he confidently pushes all the things on the bed to the floor. “Instantaneous Acceleration.” He leans closer to you and you are having hard time to back away, watching him with mouth open as he puts your phone away.

“That’s correct…” You whisper in small disbelief, because you are starting to think he’s been playing with all along. However you can’t think much about it when he goes to sit right infront you.

Han is shaking inside when he leans over you, you fanning your pretty eyelashes at him and he swears you have never looked prettier. His eyes as well as his hand fall to your exposed leg. He hears the short, sharp intake of air, feeling goosebumps appearing on your skin as he trails his hand up and down. You are silent, squirming a little from how cold his hand is, but he quickly warms it up on your own skin. You are looking at him with big eyes, lips parted as his other hand comes to caress your cheek. Your chest keeps rising rapidly and you know, he can feel your skin lighting on fire. You watch his eyes fall to your lips and yours to his by reflex. “Just a kiss, Y/N.” His voice is like honey, his breath hitting your lips.

The hand on your leg stops at the meat of your thigh and when you feel his thumb rubbing small circles on your cheekbone you are in a daze. “Just one…” You whisper back, mostly to yourself, playing with your fingers nervously.

Han was right — you do taste like strawberries. You are sweet in taste and also in your moves. With your hazy state, he sees the opportunity to let his hand travel to your waist, squeezing immediately. A small noise of surprise falls from lips, just as he leaned to kiss you softly. However the moment he tastes you, the moment he feels the subtle touch of his lips over yours, the moment you made that sound — he needed more. The hand on your waist pulls you closer and at the same time, he presses his lips harder against yours.

You are trying to catch your breath through your nose, but it’s only taken away from you when moves his head to the side to lick into your mouth. Your head is empty, hands gripping at the fabric of your skirt as you try to at least keep up with him. His lips mold into yours, spit gathering in his mouth from hunger. When you poke your tongue against his he looses it. You are overwhelmed and he is not getting enough. Han wants to slurp at your spit, drink you whole in. He wants you to take over his own body, but at the same time, he wants to have you under him. Writhing in pleasure, fidgeting nervously from every move he makes, just like now.

He sticks his tongue in your mouth, tangling it with yours and he groans lowly at that. Your lips meet in nasty sounds that are perfectly mixing with the music he put on — it was perfect. The hand on your waist travels to the front, squishing the soft rolls of your tummy forming by how you are sitting. Even now you are trying to make yourself smaller, but he definitely won’t let you get away. You were so occupied by kissing him back that you let out a loud gasp when he suddenly bites down at your lip.

You pull away from him a little, the best you could do anyway, because he has you in a very tight grip. “Han! What are you doing?” You gasp out, bottom lip tingling in small pain.

Han is out of breath, a little disappointed to be pulled away so soon from you, but when he looks down at swollen lip, it didn’t matter too much. “Kissing you?” He says, smiling breathlessly and looking over your body. He can feel the weight on his hands, but also you are slightly frozen over, looking down at your lap. “Do you want to stop?”

He hopes not, he can’t live on otherwise. The hand holding your delicate face drifts down to your neck, pushing away strands of your hair to lean closer to you. His nose is hit with your sweet perfume again, eyes almost rolling back into his head. Seeing that you are not pushing him away, he leans down to kiss your skin. It tickles you, startles you from how good it feels to have his lips on your neck. He keeps distracting you with his moves, his mouth and you have to squeeze his shoulders to win his attention back. “Han, I—“

“Sorry, just can’t help it.” He whines out and you have to bite at your abused lip to silence your own sounds. You are not even recognizing yourself, while glancing at your reflection in his mirror. His body hovers over yours, both of yours legs almost tangled and you watch him pull away from you just to look down your shirt. “Do they hurt?” You are taken back by his question, following his eyes, seeing him look down your blouse.

Han is way more bold than he himself expected to be, but he can’t do anything other than act on his desires. “No…” Your bottom lip is pouts out and he almost goes to kiss you again, but he decides do something else.

You are gasping, hot breath hitting his face when his hands grasp your underboob. You are chewing already on your lip, watching his hands wrap around your tits, blunt nails digging into your skin. He definitely can feel your nipples hardening when he squeezes both of your tits at the same time. A small whimper leaves your lips and you have to shut your eyes in embarrassment.

Fuck, he knows that he probably looks crazy right now, when he literally drools over the sight of his hands on your tits. The tips of his fingers nibble at your blouse, pushing it to the side to reveal your bra to him. He is in shock that you actually wear something like that to school when someone could just take a peak or spill something over you. The almost see through fabric wraps around you so nicely, cute little bow in the middle and his thumb flickers hungrily over the soft skin spilling over the top. “Hmm, your bra looks really tight…are you sure?” You choked out another sound when he gropes your tits. “You want a massage? You’re always so tense, Y/N—“

You whine, pressing your hand over your mouth when he latches his lips on your nipple, taking the material of your blouse and even your bra inside his mouth. He can taste your perfume, the softener you use, but mostly you. His eyes are still on your scrunched up face, even while drooling over you. “Fuuuuck, look at you—“ When he bites down at your nipple a soft, shy moan leaves you.

“Han…” You breathe heavily, hands in your lap shaking from his mouth on your breast. He switches to your right nipple while his fingers twist and pull at the other. You are trembling already, shivering when he suddenly blows cold air on you. You look drown at him with your eyes droopy, glasses fogged up at the bottom and he definitely doesn’t look any better.

His plump lips are red and swollen, spit all over his mouth and when he leans away from you, you finally see what he has done to you. Your white blouse is soaked through, pink bra showing under the now see through material and you still feel your nipples tingling when he pulls you closer to him. “Closer, come closer—“ His voice is whiny, stuck at the back of his throat. You watch him spread his legs out, caging your body and when he taps both of his thighs you are startled a little.

“On your lap?” You bite your lip, looking at him from beneath your glasses. Han is already nodding his head, pulling you closer to him, scrunching up the material of your shirt between his fingers. His cock is already straining against his pants, twitching at the sight of you. Your skirt rides up when you shuffle your way to him and his hands are already on your waist, eagerly pushing you down on him. And when you did — oh, he almost fucking cums right when your pretty, clothed pussy falls on his cock. “Yeah, that’s it —move a little–“

He is already putting pressure on your hips and you can’t even breathe at that moment. You can feel him under you and it sparks up something in you that you have never felt before. You are embarrassed that you can already feel your underwear sticking to your slick, hands shaking on his wide shoulders. From this angle you see him in new light and he is glowing. His eyes are comically wide, tongue poking out his mouth when he just barely grazes his crotch over yours. “Han, I’ve never..” You whimper at the end, too weak to stop him from moving against you.

His hands are gripping your hips rather painfully, he is aware, but when his cock grazes over your pussy, he blacks out. “It’s okay, let me show you, yeah? Want you to feel good, you want that right? You deserve it so much—“ His mouth is full of you, kissing down your neck. He licks a long stripe over your pulse, wrapping his lips around the pumping vein just to suck at it. Fuck, he is really getting under your skin…

Your hand falls to the back of his neck, crying at how hard he sucks your skin in his mouth, making you burry your nails into his skin and he literally growls. He doesn’t stop at that though, his lips move way lower, right to the skin peaking out of your bra. His saliva drips down your neck to that spot and he sure sees it as a sight to mark it up. You are already calling out his name and he is kind of disappointed in himself that he told his roommate to go, because you definitely deserved to be heard. Your moans, whimpers, choked sighs — no, those are his, his only. He is thriving with the fact that he is the one making you feel like this and he is hoping that he will be the only one.

He needs more of you, he thinks, while nibbling at the soft skin of your breasts. Han pulls away from the spot with a pop! and to his delight you are already looking at him with those glossy eyes of yours. “Someone will see that!” Your voice is still so soft, even if you at trying your hardest to sound angered.

Han glances back to the spot, where a purple hickey is forming and he has to go over it with his fingers. “I don’t care and you shouldn’t either.” Your lips fall into thin line, silent moan coming out of you when he squeezes your tits. Your body looks absolutely sinful in his hands — glasses on your nose almost falling off, neck covered with love bites, white blouse hanging off your shoulders, exposing your pretty tits covered in that pink bra and your legs? You keep squeezing them around him to relief yourself and that makes him grab a hand full of your ass to push your cunt against his cock. “Come on, Y/N, make yourself cum…” Han is literally in heaven when your hips jump forward and when your face shows a shock by the sudden pleasure you start doing it more. “Like that yeahhhh-“

Your breathing is heavy, hands grasping his shoulders, holding for dear life. He wonders if you ever humped your pillow, because you are moving like you did — he has to buy you a pillow with his face on it. He leans back on his hand to get a better look at you. You are pouting, huffing, trying so desperately not to let out any sounds but, he is not having it. His hand pushes your skirt up, just so his hand can meet your cheek with a nasty slap.

The sound echoes in the room and you finally let out a moan, the stinging pain quickly melting into pleasure. “Fuck, I can feel your pussy soaking my cock–“ Han grits through his teeth, his own hips jumping to bump into yours. “You are so pretty — so fucking pretty…you like when I call you that?” Humming, he watches your face become beet red even if your skin is dark in the soft light of his room. He can feel your legs shaking, his hands traveling to your ass to abuse it between his fingers. It almost looks like Han is only using you for his own pleasure and he kind of is.

He is huffing, groaning, spit gathering in his mouth from the sight of you bouncing on him. His hands on your ass jiggle the fat and you whimper in small embarrassment that is only being swallowed by his mouth. Your mouth is basically just hanging open, letting him tongue fuck you, because you can’t simply keep up with his moves. You are already out of breath, hips jumping wildly in pleasure and you know you are on the edge as well as him when he slap your ass again to gain your attention.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum on this cock — fuck, yeah. Make it messy, Y/N, because I want you to soak through my pants, so every time I wear them, I think of you humping your pussy on me—“ A sharp moan leaves you, feeling the rumbling in your lower tummy. You are having a hard time keeping up with your own pleasure, whining from the pain in your thighs, but he thankfully takes over. Han fucks into you rapidly, eyes drifting from your bouncing tits that are falling out of your bra back to your face of euphoria. “That’s it, such a good girl–“

With a loud moan you burry your face into his neck, cumming hard over him. Your legs are shaking from pain and pleasure, eyes blurry with tears. Han is smiling breathlessly like a crazy man, caressing your head, smoothing down your hair. He can feel your hot cunt leaking, cream from your orgasm staining the black material of his pants. His hold is soft, letting you ride out your high just because his minds keeps spinning in images and the image of him burring his face into your spend cunt is one of them.

You are thrown onto the bed and you can’t do much against it in your exhaustion. You sigh when he comes to hover over you, your eyes automatically going to his open shirt and you almost drool at the sight of his abs and tiny waist. “Fuck, baby you are amazing—“ You close your eyes, shying away from him a little and he laughs at that. “Always so shy…” You hum in agreement to his surprise and he at that goes back to suck more at your neck. His bites are mean and also his bold hands that grope everything in their way. His nose tickles your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin. Your hands finally rest upon him, just barely, but he can feel your fingers at the bottom of his shirt. When he looks down is eyes however don’t fall on your fingers, but at the spot right between your legs. Your thigh high socks are still by some miracle, digging into the skin of your inner thighs. Your skirt is flipped up, so he has a perfect view of your underwear and how he hoped, it fucking matched.

The lacy material is already ruined by your leaking pussy and when he if looks carefully enough he can see the outline of your folds. “Holy shit, look at that!” He leans back into his knees while you press your face into his pillow in embarrassment. How can you be so shy when you literally rode his cock just few minutes ago? He thinks, he’s in love…

The panties are deliciously digging into your hips, thighs just begging to be wrapped around his head and how could he resist that. Han shuffles down the bed rather quickly, mouthing at your thigh next and you are left trembling again. You are already exhausted, yet you think you want more — need more. You are curious about what else he can do to make you not feel like yourself anymore. The skin of your inner thighs is sensitive, you know that, because you sometimes like to pinch the skin between your fingers, just like he is doing it with his teeth. “Sensitive—“ You warn him, shuttering as he bites and licks at your thighs.

He looks up to you, not stopping however and then the tip of his tongue is hit with sweetness. His head is already so close to your pussy, but he has to lick up all of your juices from your skin firstly, just replacing it with his spit. “Let me eat your pussy, I need it…I swear, I will make you feel so good—“ You are already nodding your head, fisting the sheets, just as he hooks his finger in your underwear. “Let me blow your mind, baby.”

Han almost pulls out his phone to take a picture, because he has never seen a pussy so pretty. From your orgasm it’s a little swollen, red, clit just begging to be sucked into his mouth. He can smell your arousal from here, but he needs you closer — he needs to drown in you. His hands slide your body down and you yelp form how easily he did that, letting him push your legs up to your chest. You want to cry from his blown out pupils, tongue hanging from his mouth and then finally watching him press the slick muscle against you.

Your body jerks from the new feeling, a little puzzled by it, but you can’t really think straight, when he starts to fuck you with his mouth. Han’s eyes are rolled back into his head, while slurping you all up, sucking at your labia, your hole, just barely letting his tongue slide in and flicking your puffy clit. He can feel it pulsating in his mouth, smacking his lips at your taste — strawberries and cream. Han can’t get enough of how soft you feel, cock painfully pressing against his pants, however it only makes it feel better. The pain combined with the pleasure of eating your cunt is the most erotic thing he has ever felt.

“S-slow down!” A pathetic plea leaves you, but he doesn’t hear it. His nose is buried in you so deep that he has trouble breathing, face becoming red from the low intake of oxygen. He doesn’t need oxygen when he is breathing in something much more pleasurable. He can’t fight his hips from humping against his bed. The hands on the back of your thighs push them further to your chest, letting him press his mouth into your leaking hole. His tongue flattens, licking a long stripe from the rim of your ass to your clit. “Han!” So sweet and tight…

Your pussy sucks his tongue right in, even if you are shaking from overstimulation. He needs to feel you orgasm on his tongue, so he is on a mission to make you cum as fast as possible, just to taste more of you. “How do you taste so good? It’s the fucking strawberries, you always eat, I swear-“ You are literally crying, tears streaming down your face and his hips flew away from the bed, because he almost cums in his pants.

Your hand comes to push his head away simple because you can’t even think from hard he is pressing his tongue against you. Your pussy is on fire, liquid lava filling up your tummy and you literally scream when he starts to slurp meanly at you. The sound is so loud, hand shaking and just lying on his head. You can’t control your trembling body and when he starts to shake his head from side to side, you are crying out, pleading for him to just slow down a little, but he only starts to suck your whole pussy into his mouth. “Han! F-feels weird, ah!” You want to push his head away, but he is acting like possessed, nails digging into your skin and you know there are definitely going to be bruises.

Han can’t stop, not when he tastes the hot cream leaking from your hole, smearing all over his chin. He is shaking inside, because he knows, why you are warning him and that makes him go even harder. His tongue is numb, lips red, but when he goes to suck at your clit, he hears that moan again. Your eyes are wide open, back arching when he nibbles at your nub and this orgasm almost takes you out.

He sees your eyes rolling back into your head and then he feels you squirt all over him, coating his face and bed in your pleasure. His lips are parted, drinking you up and he wants to cry at your beautiful state. “So, good—“ Han is whining, hips jumping in the air, looking at your squirting pussy. Your holes spasm, your painfully swollen slit pulsating on his tongue and he is simply amazed by your body.

“Fuck…” You mumble, feeing your soaked thigh highs melting into you. Han is shocked by the word leaving for pretty lips, while he crawls his way up your exhausted body to kiss you sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips and you have to say you do taste rather sweet. Leaning back, you try to look at him, but your glasses are all the way down your neck, so he puts your glasses back on your nose for you and you immediately sigh in embarrassment at his wet face, shirt and even few strands of his hair. “I’m sorry—“

Han eyes widened at your sad eyes, shaking his head immediately. “No, baby.” He coos, caressing your cheek softly, like he just didn’t make you squirt just by his mouth. He is really a lot to take in. “You did so well for me—“ With each word he kisses a part of your face — your forehead, cheeks, nose, cupid’s bow, before his lips land again on your lips.

“I did?” You shiffle slightly and he feels filthy, because your face is making his cock swell painfully. He needs to cum or he will go mad. You can tell he that he is hurting in his pants, because you can feel his hard cock against your thigh and your eyes quickly fall down to catch a sight of it.

He breaths out in a small disbelief at your move, catching you in act. “Wanna make me feel good too?” Your big eyes gaze at him in wonder. “How about I teach you how to suck a cock?” You sharply gasp at the words coming from his plump lips and he knows that he won’t last long, just by your cuteness. You softly nod your head, just a small shy smile appearing on your face and Han then roughly pushes your cheeks together to maneuver you.

It hurts a little, but you let him guide you to the end of the bed, throwing one of his pillows down on the floor for you to kneel on. You are in a trance, while looking up at him, watching him move down the bed, so his crotch is right before your face. You are looking at his covered cock innocently, hands in your lap. You look heavenly in your post-orgasm state, kneeling before him like a slut…”Come on, baby — pull them down.” Han helps you guide your hands to his zipper, your fingers grazing over him in the process. The sound of the zipper is loud, it rings in your ears like your heartbeat as you watch him push down his pants with his boxers following right after.

Your gasp is delicious, mouth hanging open, eyes only on him. His cock is leaking, droplets of pearly cum coating his flushed, almost purple tip, his balls are swollen, ready to burst at any moment. Han is fully aware that this is your first time seeing someone like this and he really is enjoying himself, because of it. Your eyes keep going up and down, mesmerized by the length and thickness. You don’t know what is considered big, but you are sure Han never let anyone down with his pretty cock.

You watch him closely, when he wraps his hand around himself, squeezing at the base. Han is watching you too — how you bite your lip, how your glasses are slightly dirty from all the activities you two did and how you are keeping a good eye on how he jerks his cock off. “Gimme your hand—“ You are careful, slowly giving him hand. The moment your hand is replaced by his, you sigh in surprise and he groans in pleasure. “Move your hand up and down…yeah, just like that, you are doing so good for me—“ The feeling of him in your hand is weird, but not bad, he feels hard yet squishy and you have to squeeze him to see how it feels. “Fuck! Come closer.”

His hand becomes tangled in your hair and you hiss softly, when he pulls at it, pushing your head closer to him. “Should I lick it?” You asks, shyly, glancing up at him. “Just like you did to me?”

Han wonders where you have been his whole life for a second, before he quickly nods. “Yeah, lick it, baby — suck on the tip too.” Your hot tongue then meets his painful tip and he hears you hum at his taste. Kitten licking it, he pushes your hair away from your face to look at you better.

Your eyes are closed, frown that he knows is from concentration plastered on your face. Your hand is still around him, not moving, maybe because it was too much for your little head to handle, but he still wraps his own hand around yours to move it up his cock. Your eyes shoot open, hand moving now on your own and when you start to kiss at his cock head, he moans in delight. “Squeeze your hand a little…good girl, now suck on my cock—“

Your lips wrap around him, tongue poking at his hole perfectly. You can see why he enjoys giving so much and you definitely want to thank him for that. He’s been so nice to you, making you feel so good. You suck a little harder, mouth already halfway full of him and you for a split second think you may have done it a little too hard, but you are quickly proven wrong.

Han whimpers, the beautiful sound, making you press your legs together. When he pushes your head down further you let him, even if your scalp is on fire from his grip. “Put your hand on my balls and keep your mouth still for me, okay?” You only hum around him, making him whine more. Like he said, your hand unwraps from his cock to travel down his balls, keeping it there and waiting for the next instructions. “Play with them, do what you want with them, while I fuck your mouth.”

You moan around him again, spit pooling out of mouth and down the hand that squeezes his heavy balls. You almost pull away from him when he starts to snap his hips up. You immediately gag around him, breathing through your nose heavily. Han is leaking into your mouth, watching carefully how your throat contracts around him. From having you hump his cock to making you squirt on his tongue and now having your mouth on him, he can’t fight his quickly approaching orgasm.

When your nose and glasses hit the hair on his pubic bone, it makes you gargle a little and he finally knows where he wants his cum. Those fucking glasses — they complement you so well and you look like wet dream right now, his dirty fantasy come true, he wonders what would you do if anyone would catch you like this. The nerdy, shy girl taking a cock down her throat like total slut and being so obedient for the school’s notorious badboy. “Ha! Ahhh, fuck, I’m cumming—“ You suck in air, face red as he suddenly pushes you off him. You look at him, hand still playing with his balls that you feel twitching in your grasp. The cute, confused face makes him groan loudly, his own hand wrapping around his cock. The hand in your hair tightens, pushing your head down to make you kneel down at his feet again. Your eyes caught the sight of him jerking himself off quickly, cock right in your face and you gasp when he cums over you.

Thick ropes of white land on your glasses, making you close your eyes in reflex. Han is moaning loudly, pumping himself dry and he thinks he could cum again just by the sight of your pretty face covered in his cum. “Y/N…” It lands on your glasses, your eyebrow and lips and when you on instinct go lick it off, he knows that it is over for him.

Han Jisung is completely speechless. Your face is covered in him, lips red, body teared apart and covered in his marks. Purples, reds from his selfish lips and hungry hands. Mind empty, only pleasure lingering. He caresses your face softly in a absolute devotion, mirroring your smile of happiness, mixed with exhaustion. He looks down at you, like you are the thing he has been searching for and all that’s left to say is that...you are going to be forever his.

♡ sex with psychotic hyung-line ♡

psychotic hyung-line x reader | gender neutral | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

⚠︎ Bang Chan ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan is possessive & intensely passionate during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

During sex, Chan's possessiveness translates into an intense, almost primal passion. He wants to mark your skin--his territory--with dark love bites and bruises, ensuring you know that you belong to him and only him. Expect a lot of eye contact, biting, and gripping hands as if he's afraid you might disappear. Chan's intensity borders on roughness, but it's all driven by a deep, obsessive love.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan is obsessively devoted & tender during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan believes sex is an act of worship. He lavishes attention on every part of your body, wanting to memorize and own every inch. His touches are gentle but possessive, his kisses long and lingering. He whispers sweet nothings and reassurances, reminding you constantly of his undying love and your irreplaceable place in his life.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!chan is dominating & controlling during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Chan craves control, and this desire extends to the bedroom. He takes on a dominant role, orchestrating the entire experience to his liking. His commands are firm but laced with a dark, seductive tone that makes obedience almost irresistible. Chan enjoys teasing, edging you until you're begging for release, savoring the power he holds. Despite the control, there's a twisted care in his action, ensuring your pleasure is paramount, albeit on his terms.

"Face down, ass up--I don't care if you're tired. I need to fuck you until your insides are in the shape of my cock. Do you understand, baby? Be good for me, yeah?"

⚠︎ Lee Minho ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!minho is manipulative & teasing during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Minho enjoys having complete control over your pleasure, playing with you until you're pleading and crying for release. His teasing is relentless and borderline cruel, pushing you to the edge again and again without allowing you to climax until he decides. This control satisfies his darker impulses, making him feel powerful and in command. You will be left in a state of heightened desire, completely at his mercy.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!minho is protective & intense during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Minho wants to ensure you feel safe and cherished, albeit in his own intense way. His touches are both possessive and tender, a mix of roughness and gentleness. He's vocal about his need to protect you, whispering assurances and praises a he brings you pleasure. This duality of protectiveness and intensity makes the experience deeply emotional and physically overwhelming.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!minho aims to fulfill his dark fantasies during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Minho wants to explore darker fantasies with you. He enjoys pushing boundaries, indulging in role-play and scenarios that are as thrilling as they are intense. You are the center of these unconventional fantasies, and Minho ensures your experiences are as immersive as possible. This could involve sex toys, blindfolds, restraints, and detailed role-play scenarios that feed his darker desires while ensuring you are always a willing participant, fully immersed in the shared fantasy.

"Awe, my poor little kitten. Did I put the vibrator on the highest setting? Be careful, thrashing about will only make the restraints tighter! You just gotta take it like the good kitty I trained you to be. And don't you dare fucking cum."

⚠︎ Seo Changbin ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!changbin is overwhelmingly dominant during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin's psychotic tendencies amplify his need for dominance, resulting in overwhelming and commanding sexual encounters. Changbin takes full control, ensuring you know who is in charge. His dominant nature means he likes to assert his power physically, using his strength to pin you down or lift you effortlessly. His intensity is matched by his deep desire to see you submit completely, finding pleasure in your surrender and the raw power he holds over you.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!changbin is fiercely passionate & obsessive during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin is intensely focused on you during sex, handling you with rough and tender touches. His passion is overwhelming, driven by an obsessive need to make you feel pleasure like never before. He's quite loud while fucking you, expressing his love and desire with a mix of growls and whispered confessions, ensuring you know just how deeply obsessed he is with you.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!changbin is sadistic & controlling during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Changbin's psychotic nature includes a sadistic streak, taking pleasure in the control he has over your pleasure and pain. He enjoys mixing pleasure with a hint of pain, such as using light bondage or impact play, always ensuring it's pleasurable. Your reactions to this mix of sensations drive him feral, and he takes careful note of what brings you to the edge, pushing boundaries to keep things exciting and intense.

"See, sweetie? I told you I'd make it fit! Doesn't it feel good to be split open on my cock like this? Oh, don't mind the blood, sweetie; it just means your hole is adjusting to become my perfect fleshlight. Fuck, I'm so in love with you!"

⚠︎ Hwang Hyunjin ⚠︎

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!hyunjin is unpredictable & wild during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Sex with Hyunjin would be wild and spontaneous. Hyunjin is driven by sudden impulses and desires, making each encounter different from the last. One moment, he's gentle and sweet, and the next, he's rough and demanding. This unpredictability keeps you on edge, never quite knowing what to expect but always thrillingly intense. During sex, his actions are driven by a chaotic mix of love and obsession.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!hyunjin is obsessively attentive to detail during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Hyunjin is fixated on every reaction you make, memorizing every gasp and moan. His goal is to drive you to the brink of ecstasy and back, learning exactly what makes you tick. This can mean prolonged foreplay, where he explores every inch of your body with a meticulous, almost clinical precision, ensuring they're completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

✧･ﾟ: psychotic!hyunjin is darkly & possessively affectionate during sex *✧･ﾟ:*

Hyunjin's affection is dark and possessive, and during sex, this manifests in thrilling, yet terrifying way. He likes to remind you that you're his and his alone, using a mix of physical restraint and verbal affirmation. Hyunjin will bind your hands, whispering in your ear about how no else can have you, all while driving you to the heights of pleasure. His touch is a mix of rough and tender, balancing his darker impulses with genuine care.

"Your body is my favorite canvas, angel. Every inch of you is mine and mine alone. Every mark I leave on your skin, every drop of my cum that paints the inside of your walls is just a testament to that."