i just needed to let this thought out rn âŚ.. might drool though idk
streamer!wonwoo who likes to have you underneath his table, rutting against his leg as heâs busy talking to his viewers all while looking down ever so often to look at you grow dumber as you grind on his leg.
he doesnât give you permission to stop or cum, he wants you to keep rutting against his leg as he starts gaming. wonwoo would only let you cum right after his streaming session, fucking you by the webcam and teasing you that the camera is actually on and that his viewers are watching you get fucked.
âlook at the camera, baby. gotta let them see that youâre loving my cock.â wonwoo teases when you whine, dropping your head out of embarrassment when you actually do look at the camera, not knowing itâs not actually on.
âsee guys? my pretty girl just loves getting fucked by me, though i think she likes it better when yâall are watching.â wonwoo says, pulling the actor card once more before he starts to properly fuck you.
can i request an angst but happy ending with a hyunjin x reader imagine where the members donât like reader and make them break up. then the members realize they made a mistake and bring them back together. hehe.
here you are my dear!
cw: angst, happy ending, crying, breakups, gn!reader
wc: 1.7k
masterlist
     They shouldnât have even gotten involved. It wasn't their relationship so why did they have to meddle with it? It was a full decision on all seven of their parts.Â
     There was never a reason as to why the rest of his bandmates didn't like his partner. He thought maybe it was because they did know them as Hyunjin did. He wanted his second family to like his partner. They were who he was with all the time anyways. So after the first introduction, a dinner at the dorms, he thought everything was fine.Â
     He walked Y/n to the door and kissed them goodbye, telling them to text him when they got him safe. Then he headed back into the main area of the dorm. Minho, ever the one to voice his opinion, spoke first.Â
     âSomethings off about them.
âWhat do you mean?â
     So spun his friends telling him how they didnât like his partnerâ- six of them anyways. Felix was trying to give Y/n the benefit of the doubt since it was just their first time meeting them all and they might need time to get used to them.Â
     But when the second, third, and fourth time meeting the band came around, it wasn't getting any better. Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin had just started ignoring Y/n by the third time. Chan, Han, Changbin, and Felix all still tried to make conversation but Y/n knew. They knew damn well none of them liked her.Â
     Hyunjin knew his partner was a good person. He wouldnât be with them if they werenât. He consistently reassured them that they would come around to them but Y/n saw the wedge that was starting to form between their boyfriend and his friends.Â
     She tried talking to Chan about it but the talk didn't go well. He himself was just concerned for his friends career if it got out Hyunjin was dating. Y/n simply nodded and thanked him for being honest.Â
     So when Hyunjin left her place one night, she figured it be best.Â
     âHyunjin,â Y/n asked as he slipped on his jacket
     âI dont like that. whatâs wrong?â He asked turning to themÂ
     âI think we should end thisâŚâÂ
     âWhat? Why? Did i do something?â
     âNo, youâre perfect!â Y/n reassured him, âBut I think us being together is driving a wedge with you and the guys. I donât want you to loose your friends.â
     âDove, please,â Hyunjin grabbed their face and put his forehead on theirs, âLet me talk to them. I donât want to lose you.â
     âI donât wanna lose you either hun, but I canât be the reason you lose youâre friends.â
     âButââ
     âHyun, Iâll always love and support you, but I refuse to be a rift between youâre friends and your bandmates. We can still talk but letâs take sometime apart, okay?â
     âCan I kiss you one more time?â
     Y/n wanted to say no, but it was Hyunjin. They never could say no to him. âOne last time.â They agreed.
     Hyunjin pressed his lips to theirs as soon as they stopped talking. Y/n kissed him back for a moment before pulling away, causing Hyunjin to chase their lips, a habit of his.
     âYou should get back to the dorms Hyune,â Y/n said
     âDonât be a stranger, please?â
     âI wonât.â
     Reluctantly, Hyunjin let go of Y/n and walked to their door, âBye hyunjin.â
     âBye, Y/n,â then he was gone.
     They managed to lock the door and crawl into bed before the tears broke. Hyunjin managed to make it through the car ride back to the dorms before he broke. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he walked in and kicked off his shoes. Hoping his dorm mates would be gone or in their rooms, but luck wasnât on his side tonight. All three of them weâre sitting on the couch. And Chan noticed first.
     âYou okay?â The leader asked making Han and Changbin look over at Hyunjin before he turned to go to his room.
     âY/n broke up with me.â
     âDid they give you a reason?â
     He didnât answer and just went into his room, locking the door behind him.
     The three producer went to tell the other four about it, letting their friend be by himself for awhile.
     âHeâll bounce back,â Minho shrugged off the concern.
     âHe seemed pretty upset when he came home. He didnât even tell us why they ended it.â
     âThis dismisses my theory of gold digger,â Seungmin stated.
     Theories got thrown around all night. Dismissing everything they thought about them. Y/n wasnât dating Hyunjin for money, sex, or using him for his fame. Ultimately, the seven of them came to the conclusion Y/n generally liked their artist as a person and the two of you were happy together. They just got caught up thinking that since Y/n wasnât in their world, them dating Hyunjin meant they wanted something from him.Â
     They didnât even get to see their friend to apologize to him for being the reason for his break up since he decided to take a few sick days and go back home to his parents. The best thing they could do was text him that they wanted to talk to him only for the seven of them to get told heâd be back in three days. Three days to figure out how the hell they were going to get the couple back together.
     âWait! I have their number!â Felix remembered
     âWhy do you have Y/nâs number?â Changbin asked as Felix took out his phone.
     âI got it when we first met her. Incase they couldnât reach Hyunjin they could message me.â
     âHow convient for our current situation,â Han said
     Y/n managed to take a few days off of work to recover themselves from the break up, thankful one of their work friends was able to cover their shifts. They tried keeping busy, but they could only do so much before they started thinking about Hyunjin again. Was he eating? Taking care of himself? It felt too soon to call or text him.Â
     They felt their phone vibrate on the couch next to them. Part of them hoped it was Hyunjin, but was a little disappointed when they saw it wasnât. The other part was confused why Felix was texting them
Felix: Hey Y/n, Ik this may seem random, but is it possible for you to meet up with me and the other guys in the next couple days? We owe you a huge apology
Y/n: I really donât have the strength to see Hyune right now.Â
Felix: Heâs visiting his parents for a few days actually and not really talking to any of us right now. We wanted to apologize to you before he came back and hopefully maybe convince you to take himn back???
Y/n: Werenât you guys the ones that wanted us to break up? I was under the impression none of you liked me?
Felix: Thatâs why we want to apologize!
Y/n: When should I come by the dorm?
Felix: Weâll come to you! You shouldnât need to come to us for an apology we owe you
��    Y/n sent their address to Felix and within the hour all seven of them were at their door. They invited them in and one by one they all apologized. Saying they were cautious of someone who wasnât an idol dating their friend, apologizing for thinking that Y/n would use Hyunjin for his fame. Y/n forgave them for it and reassured them she would never do anything of the sort and that she hadnât even told any of her friends or family that she and their member were a thing. They invited her over to the dorms once Hyunjin got back from his parents. Y/n agreed and the group left, apologizing again.
-ËËâââââ
     After a few days, Y/n was making back their way back to the dorm she didnât really think sheâd get to visit again. The guys wanted to keep it a surprise to their friend that they invited them over. Felix had told Y/n to text him when they got their. So when she walked up to the door to see the blond almost bouncing up and down from the excitement of seeing his friend smile again since he had been nothing but pouty since the break up and was still mad at the rest of the members for driving his partner away.
     âHurry up. Weâve been trying to keep him from locking himself in his room,â Felix whispered yelled as he rushed them inside
     âIâm coming, iâm coming.â Y/n whispered back as they got inside and slipped off theri shoes.
     Felix lead them into the main room where Chan was talking to a zoned out Hyunjin. The foot steps entering the room made the rest of the group look up. The remaining six sighed in relief Y/n was here while Hyunjin looked in awe that they were back in the dorm.
     âWe apologized to Y/n for everything. It was our fault for causing the break up, we made assumptions before meeting them and only saw them,â Lee Know stated and the whole group agreed as Felix and Y/n joined the group.
     âYou were definitely happier with Y/n and weâre sorry we took that from you,â Changbin added.
     Y/n offered a smile to their ex before Hyunjin was up and making his way over to them, pulling them into a hug and crying into their shoulder. Chan moved the remaining kids into the other dorms common space to let the two talk. Y/n wrapped their arms around the idol and rubbed his back.
     âIâm back hyune,â Y/n whispered into his hair.
     âDonât leave me again, please.â He whimpered into their neck
     âI wonât. I promise.â
     Y/n couldnât help but cry themselves before Hyunjin pulled away then pulled them into a kiss. Y/n gladly returned it before he picked them up and carried them to his room, âYou owe me a bunch of cuddles,â he stated
     âAnd kisses.â Y/n added as they pecked all over his face.
âď¸ PAIRING: LEE KNOW X READER X HAN
âď¸ CW: GN!READER, SWEARING, NO CLEAR ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP,
âď¸ WC: 0.3K
âď¸ NOTE:
3:27 am
Y/n slammed their phone on their bed. Sleep wasn't coming easy tonight and the winter air wasn't helping. Sure the heater in the apartment was on but it still wasn't enough. They'd been tossing and turning for hours. Kicking off covers and roll themselves back up in a burrito. Listening to music but still nothing.
âFuck it.â Y/n kicked their covers off and walked down the hall to her roommates.
Quietly knocking on their door before peeking inside.
âJi? Min?â They asked into the darkness
âYeah?â Minhoâs voice came.
âWere you sleeping?â Y/n asked
âNo, Jisungs out though. Whatâs up?â
âCanât sleep.â
âCome here.â
Minho managed to move the sheets, waking Jisung up in the process, and made room for them between the two.
âWhaâŚ?â Jisung said
âY/nâs sleeping with us tonight,â Minho explained
âMmm good. It's cold,â Jisung grumbled as Y/n got in the middle of them.
Jisung wrapped his arms around Y/n and laid his head on their chest as Minho chuckled while throwing the covers back over the three of them. Wrapping an arm around both of them so they all fit on the bed and were warm.
Y/n soon fell into a comfortable slumber for the first time all night. Wrapped in warmth into the morning. Jisung snuggled up against them when they woke up. Minho lying back with an arm under their head.
Y/n went to sit up only for Jisung to pull them back down. âJisung.â
âStay. It's comfy and no one has to work today,â the rapper complained
âHeâs not letting you get up. You stuck with us,â Minho added
Y/n shrugged. Between Minho and Jisung, the cold winter air was kept outside the trioâs apartment. Y/n snuggled up with the two while anime played on the TV they kept in their room. Only really get up to eat and use the bathroom but always going back to the bedroom for cuddles.
"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophyâ though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."
wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin
Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot
Word count: 15.8k
Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess⌠this fic doesnât let you forget that theyâre hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation
Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration⌠brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)
Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, iâve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but⌠yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)
[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]
The forest at the edge of the village is something that shouldâve been closed off long agoâ but thereâs no resources, no men to work on the border, no moneyâ so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.
Thereâs a killer in the forestâ fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; thereâs a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, youâll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same. Â
There are wolves in the forest.
Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next preyâ anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal.Â
Youâve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when youâve grown alongside the forest?
There are wolves in the forest, that much youâre sure ofâ but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child.Â
She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ranâ you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip. Â
Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; itâs thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the bakerâs son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadnât memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths mightâve concerned youâ but youâre confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already insideâ and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside.Â
âSoobin,â you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outsideâ the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess itâs probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever heâs restlessâ he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you donât bother to hide.
âHello pretty,â he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neckâ you really hope he doesnât notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, âI made an extra batch of bread, and I thought youâd like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and Iâd hate for you to get hungry because you donât have time to eat.â
Heâs sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weakâ he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied armâ his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together.Â
âAre you going to the woods?â he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the doorâ his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyesâ and theyâre filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that canât seem to lie to him, âItâs dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldnât.â
âItâll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,â you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until youâre both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and youâre locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another timeâ you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safetyâ and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something youâve become very familiar with.Â
âNo, you mustnât come withâ itâs dangerous, and Iâm the only one who knows my way around the woods,â you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, âIâm too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woodsâ Iâd hate for you to get hurt because of me.â
He sighsâ and you know youâve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with youâ but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that youâll be okay, that youâll be quick.Â
âIâll wait for you,â he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sighâ warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for moreâ and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there.Â
âCome back to me safe.â
Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect youâ and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbyeâ you sigh pathetically the moment youâre finally in the woods.
The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; itâs comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set.Â
You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your listâ youâre freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves.Â
Youâre still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? Youâre not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you.Â
Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your earsâ sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice.Â
You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the soundâ and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your wayâ a man lays before you, injured and weak.
Except, heâs not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured manâwolf hybridâ growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile.Â
You must runâ you must, and itâs all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fearâ but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolfâs eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain heâs found himself in.
Something inside you clicksâ your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you canât just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, youâre taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that youâre nothing close to a threatâ though youâre sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicatorâ and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning.Â
âI want to help you,â you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you donât find yourself to be afraidâ if he were dangerous, he wouldâve attacked long ago. Itâs the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands donât tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies.Â
He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet hisâ and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when youâve found that he has no issues holding eye contactâ and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can.Â
Youâre a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face thatâs twisted in a mean glareâ but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if heâs soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you.Â
The bandages are tight on his ankle and youâve placed herbs within to help soothe the swellingâ all tricks youâve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.
Reassuring words donât do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you donât know if he can understand you, though youâre unsure of where he came fromâ because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decadesâ you still find yourself caring for him. Itâs something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sunâs golden rays that leak through the woods.Â
Itâs quiet; itâs peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmicallyâ and you think youâve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, youâre cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching.Â
The man before you doesnât seem to be worried; itâs you thatâs whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like youâre their next mealâ youâre not sure how many pairs there might be, but youâre stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.
You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what youâre surprised to see is⌠concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.
Theyâre targeting you.
Before you can think twice, youâre turning on your heel and runningâ though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you donât realize how crazed you mustâve looked until youâre finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.
âAre you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?â heâs breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the sourceâ it isnât until youâve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.
âIs everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I shouldâveââ Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in wavesâ and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he mustâve felt for leaving you on your own.Â
âItâs fine, Iâm not hurt,â you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, âI justâ had some encounters with a wolfâ but Iâm safe, they didnât hurt me, Iâm just a bit shaken, is all.â
âA wolf?â Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until theyâve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. âWhere were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?â
âNo, noâ itâs alright, Iâm alright, I promise,â you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesnât notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touchâ but heâs much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentrationâ but nothing happens, and heâs left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure thereâs no threat to you.Â
After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isnât fooling him, and itâs quite obvious that youâre still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distressâ like rotten flowers, earthy and pungentâ and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, youâve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly.Â
âOh, my doll,â Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful handâ as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, âitâs alright, youâre safe nowâ Iâll keep you safe.â
Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; heâs keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for youâ the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies.Â
When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctantâ but he must, itâs unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voiceâ and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye.Â
Your heart still races long after heâs gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that youâll have to go back to get it tomorrowâ but for now, youâre content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobinâs lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.
 ⪠ââ ââ ââŤÂ Â
When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out.Â
Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got hereâ your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if heâs still lingeringâ but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully.Â
Everything is intactâ your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journalâ and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better youâre able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of itâ light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent.Â
Youâre far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobinâs presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your sensesâ tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didnât see you curiously nosing at your basket.Â
âHey, pretty thing,â Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; youâre terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him.Â
âHi Soobin,â you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, âwhatâre you doing here today?â
âI needed to check on you,â he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, âI couldnât sleep well knowing I just⌠left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.â
âSoobin, itâs fine, really,â you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, âNothing happenedâ as long as Iâm in my home, Iâm safe.â
Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you donât give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the villageâ Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with.Â
âYouâ wonât you be busy?â you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in a feeble way to distract yourself.Â
âNo, Iâm not needed at the bakery today,â Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your ownâ and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought.Â
Heâs eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expressionâ and after a moment, you finally nod meekly.Â
âItâs only a house or two, but the walk is⌠itâs far,â you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefullyâ but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion.Â
âI thought you lost this,â he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frownâ his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. âDid you go into the woods to retrieve it?â
âNo!â you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, âIt justâ it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found itââ
âThe wolf,â Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments agoâ it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliantâ his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, youâre able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his sensesâ his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches.Â
The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghastâ your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his ownâ but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off.Â
The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobinâs head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threatâyouâve been followed, they know where you live.
âIt isnât safe for you to stay there anymore,â Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your homeâ from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point.Â
But Soobin wasnât going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your homeâ it made Soobin tense with anger.Â
âThat wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,â Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, âyou donât know who they areâ what their intentions are.âÂ
It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his familyâ images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldnât help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from youâ your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed.Â
Maybe youâve become too used to being independent; youâve survived this long on your ownâ most lamb hybrids you knew couldnât walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in caseâ yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms.Â
âI donât see why youâre insisting so much, binnieâ I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,â you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifullyâ his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes canât help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smellâ but he sees nothing, and heâs turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look.Â
âI understand why you might feel this wayâ youâve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,â Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scentâ despite the strong front you put up, Soobinâs keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely.Â
âYou have to allow yourself to be helpedâ thereâs nothing wrong with that, doll,â he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let outâ the stove is turned off, and the food is doneâ but you donât seem to care about that much.Â
Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until itâs pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within youâ and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobinâs hold the moment his scent invades your senses.Â
âIâm here to protect you.âÂ
His words stick to you for the rest of the nightâ as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first placeâ enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water.Â
With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, youâre almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart.Â
 ⪠ââ ââ ââŤÂ Â
Itâs early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and youâre barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anythingâ to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile.Â
Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldnât seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back insideâ closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him.Â
You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldnât help but frown.Â
You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldnât be able to make the medications at all.Â
Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldnât be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days agoâ paired with Soobinâs warning and harsh reality checkâ you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own.Â
You could call Soobinâ ask him if heâd like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; itâs just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.
âHello?â youâre gulping slightly at the soundâ part of you wasnât expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what youâve been hesitant to for so long.Â
âHi Soobin,â you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, âIâ Iâm sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forestâ itâs urgentâ and I⌠well, I was wondering if youâd be able to accompany me. For protection.âÂ
The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though thereâs a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respondâ it feels like eternity, but in reality, itâs merely secondsâ- and youâre practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.
âWait for me inside until I get there,â he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, âIâll be quick.âÂ
Soobin hangs up promptly after; youâre left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortableâ inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobinâs scentâ the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man.Â
The sun is settingâ but heâll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; youâre practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something elseâ more footsteps.Â
Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any wayâ but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows youâre here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your doorâ you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong.Â
Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why theyâre hereâ and youâre thinking back to Soobinâs warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiotâ because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that youâve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home.Â
It all happens too quickly; youâre running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eyeâ the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way itâs broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weaponâ the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but thatâs the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror.Â
One, two, threeâ itâs only three of them, but itâs enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots.Â
Itâs a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enoughâ but theyâre perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. Itâs silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirsâ they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.
You feel nauseous. Theyâre toying with you.
They could easily take youâ kill youâ in a split second; the second you try to run, theyâll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you donât think your fate with them will end well.
You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyesâ the way your legs look as though theyâll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warningâ as though it would do anything, they muse.Â
One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step backâ but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement.Â
He reaches towards youâ again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay backâ! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left.Â
âDonât be afraid,â he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run coldâ sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meatsâ âWeâll take good care of you.â
A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between youâ the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear.Â
Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite wellâ the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them.Â
âBeomgyu,â the wolf near you sneers, âwhat the hell are you doing?â
He doesnât bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the roomâ and he growls.Â
âGet out.âÂ
Itâs a simple command given by the manâ Beomgyuâ Â to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; theyâre confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before theyâre turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his wordsâ instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself.Â
âI said, get. Out.â
Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hairâ as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks awayâ he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.
âDonât expect any mercy from him.â
Youâre sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you canât quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each otherâ a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard.Â
The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escapeâ hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on himâ your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it.Â
His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds.Â
Youâre turning around to make a run for itâ the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom.Â
âPlease!â you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; youâre pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before youâ your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face.Â
âYouâre running? After I just saved you?â is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. âWhy do you run from me, my flower?âÂ
The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demiseâ your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.
Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself uprightâ your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.
âAre you scared of me?â he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surpriseâ a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin.Â
âDonât be afraid,â he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off.Â
âYouâre safe with meâ remember?â
Your voice remains stuck inside youâ all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until heâs at your earâ then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neckâ like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm downâ but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly.Â
His hands have begun to wanderâ large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against hisâ and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse ofâ soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fistsâ only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body.Â
Beomgyuâs nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scentâ so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, heâs unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following afterâ and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon afterâ the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyuâs.
Youâve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyuâs body; even more so now that Beomgyuâs felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon afterâ youâre presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale.Â
Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end.Â
From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hingesâ most of all, heâs able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine thatâs intertwined with the scent that travels with the windâ and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lipsâ his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you.Â
The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorwayâ his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage.Â
Your doe eyes meet his instantlyâ theyâre shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if youâre even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone heâs ever heard. The rest of you is coveredâ youâve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the ownerâs shoulder and pooling at his elbowâ Soobinâs eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way theyâve been forced open.Â
âSoobin,â you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him.Â
Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neckâ ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forwardâ roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dogâs view.Â
Soobin doesnât hesitate to mimic the otherâs threatsâ he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stanceâ and though your face has been tucked into the wolfâs chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct.Â
Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobinâs sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyuâs thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill.Â
Beomgyuâs eyes catch onto Soobinâs restlessness with easeâ and before heâs able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thoughtâ and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobinâs and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.
âStay.â is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyuâs mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before itâs running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulseâ Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display.Â
Youâre all left frozenâ Beomgyuâs arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palmâ and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until itâs around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobinâs.
âAny sudden moves,â Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palmâ and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, âand sheâs mine to claim.â
Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before himâ the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figureâ and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that youâre not composed at all; youâve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that itâs best to give up any fight you have left inside you.
Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrilyâ and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down.Â
âGood dog,â Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobinâs face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. âMy flower, donât you want to show him how perfect you are for me?âÂ
Beomgyu doesnât expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counterâ and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and youâre left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you.Â
âSo sweet for me,â Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and youâre left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waistâ you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinctâ but youâre granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyuâs lips at your action.
Soobinâs head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threatâ his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grinâ your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobinâs mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning.Â
âYou smell it too,â Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a factâ Soobinâs eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyuâs lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobinâs distance, heâs able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely.Â
âInnocent thingâŚâ Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against himâ and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, âSo tempting. So good.âÂ
Youâre crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon afterâ and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you.Â
When your eyes meet Soobinâs, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through youâ his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? Youâre not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, youâre sure that it was either this orâ orâŚ
âYou filthy mutt,â Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rageâ but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the otherâs voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh.Â
âYou like this, donât you?â Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secretâ behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on himâ and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyuâs eyes never leave Soobinâs, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.
âYou want her.â
Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; youâre able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.
âNo need to deny it,â Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feelingâ the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobinâs gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulationâ and Beomgyuâs finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more.Â
âIâm sure sheâd love to give you a show,â he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his handâ he chuckles softly at the way youâre pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, âfilthy, greedy thing.âÂ
Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skinâ his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against himâ lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate.Â
âGet your filthy hands off her,â Soobin seethes, though heâs unable to make a move to get you awayâ a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warningâ the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.
Beomgyu doesnât heed the otherâs commentâ if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers.Â
âHmm? Donât touch her?â Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, âWhat, does it upset you that you wonât be getting to her first?âÂ
With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyuâs fingers, youâre jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. Youâre getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to youâ and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before heâs stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation.Â
âDoes it anger you?â his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward againâ his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly.Â
âKnowing that youâre about to watch her get fucked openâ get knotted goodâ by a wolf?âÂ
Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skinâ but thatâs the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolfâs wordsâ both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight.Â
âYou know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.â Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before heâs cooing softly. âIâm sure youâd love that, wouldnât you?â
All you can do is muster a broken whine in response.Â
Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobinâs gaze as a resultâ his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weakâ your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that youâre coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolfâs hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesnât quite reach youâ a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils.Â
âSoobin,â you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyuâs every action, adamâs apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skinâ and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, âSoobin, pleaseâŚâ
Youâre not sure what youâre begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyuâs broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyuâs head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmlyâ you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly.Â
âSoobinâŚâ Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, âSoobin, come here.â
When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffsâ though, he doesnât seem to be surprised in the slightest.Â
âCome on Soobin,â Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobinâ you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches.Â
âCome.â
It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyuâs reactionâ the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continueâ and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling handâ curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind youâ Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobinâs teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles.Â
âKiss her,â Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were utteredâ but then heâs grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, âGo on. Sheâs dying for you to touch her.â
Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mindâ and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in responseâ Beomgyuâs fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.
âIâŚâ Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyuâs rough hand retreats, and itâs replaced by Soobinâs large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.
This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chanceâ he can save you.Â
You seem to catch onto Soobinâs calculative gaze quite quickly this timeâ and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirtâ his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours heâs always adoredâ and his heart breaks.Â
âIâm sorry,â he whispers.Â
Thereâs nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. Theyâre soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once youâve felt the soft pass of his tongue against youâ and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit.Â
The kiss is slow, itâs deepening out of your control, and itâs everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before youâ when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection.Â
So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel nowâ trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from anotherâ because the feeling that pools in your stomach isnât remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; itâs hotter, angrier, greedierâ it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you.Â
âSoobinâ oh god, Soobinââ you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said manâs mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still canât help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for moreâ your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyuâs tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of youâ you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt.Â
But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your noseâ and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tipâ he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases inâ and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.
âItâs okay. I know, I knowâ Iâm right here, Iâm right here with you,â Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solaceâ and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobinâs chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations.Â
âI got you, donât worry my doll,â Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chestâ he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, âItâs okay⌠just relax and youâll feel good, okay?âÂ
âDonât you wanna feel good?â Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; youâre hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to doâ though, you donât think your brain has truly processed what heâs doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you.Â
Beomgyu isnât quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for himâ his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobinâs lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against himâ an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyuâs system at the sight.Â
âSo ungrateful,â Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you backâ heâs forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm thatâs wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to moveâ and youâre left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the actionâ if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way youâre stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp.Â
âWhy wonât you pay attention to me?â Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobinâs, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassuranceâ and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfullyâ but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts.Â
âLook at me,â Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. Youâre squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence.Â
âThatâs right,â he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, âEyes on me.âÂ
Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possibleâ the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesnât seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against youâ this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.
The sight of youâ a drooling, crying, moaning messâ is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first placeâ and it makes Soobinâs cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought heâd witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glassâ but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove thatâs not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentivelyâ after all, heâll get his hands on you soon enough.
âTight little cuntâ fuckinâ takes me so well,â Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, âsuch a good girl for meâ shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?â
Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks youâ fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can.Â
âFuck, fuckfuckfuck, youâreâ shitâ youâre squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,â he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto himâ youâre wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow downâ but of course, he doesnât listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, âOh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel youâ can feel you getting closer.â
âDo you wanna cum?â He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, âtell me how bad you want it then.âÂ
âPlease⌠please let meâŚâ you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, âneedâ need tâcum, want it, feels so good.âÂ
Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneerâ his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for youâ the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyuâs lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.
âYeah? Am I making you feel good?â he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, âWhoâs making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.â
The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra:Â
âBeomgyu,â you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, âYouâ itâs youâ Beomgyuâ please, pleaseâ too muchâŚ!â
Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until heâs bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivityâ such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.
âCanât take anymore?â Beomgyu asks apatheticallyâ and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesnât really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get awayâ you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks.Â
âDonât lieâ you can, Iâm sure you can,â Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, âyouâre a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.âÂ
You donât seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extentâ youâre too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesnât matter if youâve caught on to whatâs happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you inâ your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counterâ Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied.Â
âSuch a perfect doll for me,â Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at whatâs left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shockâ a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you canât really find the strength to protest the way youâre slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bareâ Soobinâs voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasnât very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, âItâs alright⌠Iâve got you.âÂ
When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feelingâ heâs stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.
Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relaxâ it doesnât last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt.Â
âWaitâ waitâ I canâtâ too full, it wonât fitâŚ!â you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulderâ Soobinâs eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.
âYou can,â is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into youâ little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feelingâ tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyuâs hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. âSee? Youâre doing so well. You can take it.â
You shake your head to refute his claimsâ but itâs not as though that would change the way theyâve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter whatâ and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want.Â
Eventually, youâre nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobinâs shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyuâs hairâ the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure.Â
âFuck, such a good cunt, so tightâ ah,â Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, âso pretty⌠youâre so pretty, all Iâve ever wantedâ god, youâre perfect.â
The look of adoration Soobin gives you isnât lost on you entirelyâ but thereâs something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you wholeâ and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own.Â
But it seems as though heâs not the only one who possesses those particular feelingsâ Beomgyuâs pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobinâs chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but itâs all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in betweenâ but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly.Â
âC-close, oh shit, âm so close,â Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, âAh, dâyou feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?â
You know what his question really entailsâ you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight.Â
âYeah, you do, donât you? Want my knot, wanna be bredâ ffffuck, Iâll give it to you, Iâll knot you, make you mine,â his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has setâ but Beomgyu doesnât care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words.Â
âIâll claim you,â he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymoreâ if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that heâs taken control of the situation.Â
âYou want itâ oh fuck, yeah, youâll make such a pretty mate, all for me,â he growls, his words slipping to the otherâs ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, âall mineâ mine, mine mineâ o-oh, shitâ!â
It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentleâ hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobinâs cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesnât catch, his orgasm triggering immediately afterâ itâs so much, yet itâs not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edgeâ and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck.Â
The right side of your neck stingsâ then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you wholeâ you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you.Â
Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within momentsâ for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.
 ⪠ââ ââ ââŤÂ Â
When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, youâre able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing painâ the nightâs events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, youâre able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other.Â
Through your line of sight, youâre able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everythingâ of what youâre feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough.Â
Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation youâve been thrust into.Â
You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within.Â
But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.
your boyfriend of 2 years, choi beomgyu, dumps you out of nowhere! oh, and did i forget to mention that he's also a rising indie musician? now you're left with a broken heart, and a spotify streaming history full of his songs. this year's spotify wrapped should be interesting...
two â suicide postponed BACK ON!!!!!
warnings! â kms jokes, too many dirty jokes (courtesy of 12 year old boy ningning), ignore timestamps!
one â masterlist â three
note: sorry for such a late update guys this ones also kind of a filler TT ive been traveling for the holidays (happy holidays btw) ALSO THANK U FOR ALL THE NICE MESSAGES ABT THIS SMAU SO FAR!!! rlly i appreciate it a lot ^^
Hiiiiii 𩷠your writing moved me, I cannot lie⌠but can we pls get some like grunge emo!JunHan x preppy cute!reader where JunHan is like a rlly bad influence and has a corruption k!nk for the reader? Mwah kisses keep up the good work đ
tags: toxic smoker!junhan, corruption kink, public sex | mdni
a/n: iâm writing something like this for the first time, iâm sorry if itâs not what you expected đ thank you so much for the support, happy to hear you enjoy what i share <3 also, i know not getting caught in this kind of scenario is impossible, but this is fiction made for fun so bear with me
âheard they tell you to stay away from me.â junhan speaks up, removing his leather jacket while holding the blunt between his lips. âis it true?â he asks amusingly and you nod at his question in silence while looking down at your lap. he always sees right through you, so itâs pointless to lie. he leans into your blushing face and the warmth radiating from his body embraces you like a tempting threat. âone more,â he inserts it into your dry mouth. his bulge keeps growing bigger from your innocent eyes watering, and the small coughs you try to hold in so you donât get caught.
you gulp at the close up view of his lip piercing and the memories of the way it felt against your pussy instantly cloud your mind. âdo you agree with them?â his hoarse voice begins to slurr more obviously next to your ear. âshould you stay away after i make you feel so fuckinâ good every time you open those pretty legs for me?â his hand separates your thighs, and you let him do it with ease even when the right thing to do is to stand up from the floor and walk away. âjunââ you stutter quietly, as he goes under your pleated skirt to find the wet patch of your panties. ârelax, kitten,â he chuckles lazily when you wrap hands around his wrist. âno one comes to the library at this hour.â the truth is youâre almost sure there are a few people in the library on the other side of the room, but you cannot find the words to tell him when heâs already a few fingers deep inside you, and your head feels foggy from the drug. he moves you on his lap, and makes you hold onto his blunt, but this time with your pink lips so he can tie your wrists behind your back. his belt holds your hands tightly in one place as he lowers his jeans only enough to take out his erection and place you to sit on it. you whimper softly from how easy you fill up, your skirt shuffling at every cute bounce you make, while junhan rests his head against the wall, taking another puff. he loves corrupting you like this, little by little.
before you met him something like this would disgust you. terrify you. but now it secretly excites you. it does bring you shivers, but a part of you wants you to get caught. youâve been good and obedient for so long, for once you want to bend the rules, and youâre almost sure you want to do it with him.
[Synopsis] : Minghao is known as the popular emo kid around the school but all it takes is one girl for him to fold
[CW] : Minghao is lowkey a hoe, reader is horny, mentions of sex toys (reader buys them from Spencers), innuendos, foul language, fluff as hell, Minghao is whipped for the reader
[WC] : 3k
[A/N] : This was supposed to be smut but Iâll just make a separate oneshots for that but enjoy this cute little story, lmk who you wanna see and alway feel free to request members <3
Thereâs a myriad of questions youâre asking yourself right now. One of them being âwhy am I at the back of Spencers on a Tuesday night at 7pm?â But, you were too well aware of the answer to that one. You had come to Spencers looking for a butt plug, simply wanting to test out the waters of a new sensation. Why? Because youâre bored and have nothing better to do.
Why yes, of course youâre such a cute and preppy girl, wearing bows and skirts of lighter colors, but you werenât boring. You knew the ways around sex, though you were a fresh non-virgin. Your past boyfriend taking your virginity, albeit disappointing, you still knew the way around your body, so why not try something new.
As you looked through the array of kinky toys and products, passing up rainbow dildos, bullet vibrators, and lingerie, you finally reach the section for butt plugs.
You look through the selections and find a light pink set with hearts. Opting to stick to your lolita core values, you pick up the set and decided it would be nice to try. Before you leave the aisle you pick up some lube and make your way to the front. That idea is soon interrupted by you colliding with a tall figure as you turn around, your face slamming into their chest.
You look up to apologize and your face turns from an apologetic frown to a wide eyed state of horror. The person you bumped into was Xu Minghao, the popular alt kid who went to your school, a grade above you. He was knows as The8 at the school, because every girl whoâd supposedly gotten in his sheets said he was packing an 8 incher. You never really cared about it because you didnât talk to him, but damn was he fine now that youâre seeing him up close.
He was about 5â10 with a lean figure, broad shoulders and long arms and hands. He wore an AC/DC shirt with layered jeweled belts, bracelets, and necklaces with black torn skinny jeans and platform chunky boots. He had a mullet that was black at the top with a platinum blonde peekaboo and dark guyliner around the perimeter of his eyes. You stood frozen in shock for a couple seconds, praying he didnât know who you were before apologizing.
âSo sorry, sir! I didnât see you there!â You squeak, trying to get this awkward interaction over with. He looks you up and down and quirks his eyebrow before muttering a small âDo I know you from somewhere?â Your eyes widen in horror as youâre quick to say no in hopes he wonât realize your lying. âHm? No, I donât think Iâve seen you from anywhere!â Youâre quick to exclaim, realizing you sound so embarrassing. You feel like crumbling into dust under his piercing gaze as he shrugs his shoulders and moves to the side.
You start walking and quickly realize the register is empty, fear flashes through you as you realize⌠heâs the fucking cashier. âDid you find what youâre looking for today, miss?â He asks while walking with you to the register. You couldnât be more embarrassed as you hold your items close to your chest, keeping your eyes on the floor. âUh, yea I found everything perfectly fine..â you mumble as you both get up to the register. He steps behind the desk and holds his hand out for you to place the items. You quickly place the items in his hands looking away as this is extremely uncomfortable. He takes a look at the items and confusion passes through his eyes as he rings them up and placed them in the bag.
âCash or card?â He asks, tapping buttons on the register. You look back towards him and he takes another look at your face. You notice him looking a bit too hard and you panic. âBy any chance is your name Y/N?â He inquires. Your heart drops to your ass, not only does he know your face, he knows your name. The worst possible scenario is playing your right before your eyes. Taking your silence as an answer he lets out a chuckle, placing his elbow on the table and covering his eyes laughing.
You sigh and look towards him, âWow didnât know this was a comedy show, a girl cant buy butt plugs?â You state as you roll your eyes and pull out a fifty dollar bill. He looks up at you still slightly chuckling. âMy bad cuz just didnât know Princess Peach could even catch herself buying a sex toy, let alone a butt plugâ he teases, examining the package of the plug itself before taking your money and putting it in the register.
âPrincess Peach is real funny coming from you, Bowser.â You tease back.
âDamn, you got me good on that one,â he begins, starting to count your change, âjust didnât expect you to be buying something like this when you look as pure as snow.â
âAnd that means a girl canât have fun? Isnât it prime time for that typa stuff?â You question.
âI mean yea but likeâŚyou look like your favorite song is by Lana Del Ray, not exactly butt plug buyer vibes.â He quips, handing you your change and your bag. âMy favorite song is actually Everywhere I Go by Hollywood Undead, thank you very much.â You retort, grabbing your bags, walking to the exit of the store hearing his laughs as you take your leave. You make your way out of the mall, kinda enjoying the encounter with the boy. Of course it was embarrassing, but at least you now knew Minghao wasnât some asshole who would curse you out.
_______________________________________________
Itâs been two weeks since you saw Minghao, and you cant lie and say he wasnât on your mind. Though you had a lighter color pallet, you also cant lie and say the dark alt aesthetic didnât do him justice . His tall stature and lanky body fit the black clothes and dark makeup he wore perfectly.
You had seen him around school campus very few times after your encounter, neither of you ever talking to the other. You had successfully used the butt plugs and you cant say they were your favorite. The foreign feeling didnât aid you much pleasure, so you thought to go back to Spencers for something else to try, maybe new lingerie or a dildo.
Walking back into the Spencers you hadnât spotted Minghao, so you just thought it wasnât on his shift. You headed to the back and upon reaching it you saw all of the different selections of pleasure toys from last time. You looked at the lingerie seeing an array of options. For someone who dresses in pink clothing, you often opt for darker lingerie choices that leave nothing to the imagination. Seeing a black strap piece that shows all of your boobs and privates catches your eye and you instantly pick it up. Strolling around for dildos you find a hot pink glow in the dark dildo, and opt to get it as well because itâs your favorite color.
Finishing looking around you head up to the front and lo and behold, Xu Minghao is at the only register. You donât know where the hell he came from, but you muster up the courage to get in the line again, making as little eye contact with him as possible praying another register can open up before you become first in line.
Unfortunately your prayers arenât heard and youâre right in front of Minghao once again. âHey Princess, nice seeing you here againâ He smirks, reaching his hand out to scan your items. âPrincess? Nickname basis now Bowser?â You smile and hand him your two items. He looks at the lingerie peice and looks back up at you, sporting a raised eyebrow and a smirk. âYou sure you picked up the right lingerie, sweetheart? The pink maid cosplay is on the rack over there.â He points to a rack in the back. You chuckle and look back at him, âNah I meant to grab that one, âs cute.â
He shakes his head and laughs, scanning the lingerie. He picks up the dildo and his eyes widen. He looks up at you again and you meet him with a smile. You find his bewilderment funny. âDamn Princess, never knew you could take all thisâ He smirked, checking out the box before looking up at you. âYou know I could make you feel a lot better than this thing right?â He said, scanning the dildo.
âThat what you tell to all your hookups you find in here, The8?â You asked, pulling out your wallet. He laughs at his notorious school name, letting you see his smiley piercing hanging in his mouth. âI see youâve heard about me, but donât worry, I donât even know half of those girls names.â He smiled. âWorry? Why would I worry about your sex life? Not like Iâm trying to fuck you.â You quip, handling him your card to scan.
He pauses and looks up at you with a slight smirk on his face before scanning your card and handing you your bag and your card. Before he gives you your receipt he writes something on it. You take your receipt and walk out of the store, looking down at the bottom left corner where he wrote âtext me, princessâ followed by his number. He watched you as you eft, your hips swaying in your light brown skirt and your tits slightly bouncing in your deep cut cardigan.
_______________________________________________
That night you had contemplated what you would text him, opting for a simple:
Y/N: Hey itâs Y/N from Spencers
Minghao: Hey princess :)
Y/N : Your serious about this princess agenda huh?
MInghao: You couldnât tell?
Y/N: I mean no, you call me a princess but Iâm not seeing a lot of princess treatment đ
Minghao: Do you want the princess treatment?
Y/N: itâs better than you not talking to me after I bought a dildo in front of you đ
Minghao: you got it princess ;)
Y/N: What is that supposed to mean?
Minghao: donât worry about it princess
Y/N: Minghao omg what does that mean đŞ
Minghao: Awe sheâs finally calling me by my name :)
Y/N: of course dummy is that not your name
Minghao: I mean it is but you could call me yours đ
Y/N: stawp Iâll blush đ¤
Minghao: lemme see :(
Y/N: bet
*calling MinghaoâŚ*
*call accepted*
You didnât expect him to actually pick up. Youâre laying in bed in a pink silk tank top and spandex shorts with no bra on so youâre not exactly presentable. The line connects to a screen of Minghao with a game controller, his TV lighting up his bare face and lanky body. His black and blonde hair tied into a half up-half down style. He looks to his phone and waves at you while smiling.
âHey princessâ he says in a low voice, smiling at you. âHi Minghaoâ you say, smiling back and waving before setting your phone up on your dresser and sitting up. âI donât see you blushing, pretty.â He says, slightly disappointed in your lack of a red tint . âIf you keep calling me names like that I just mightâ You smile. âWhat are you playing, pretty boy?â You ask, holding your head up using your chin as you watch him play his game. He smiles and looks at you, âPlaying as your man.â He says, winking at you.
âOkay smooth operator I see you, doesnât mean youâre getting in these panties anytime soon.â You say, side eyeing him knowing damn well thatâs a lie. âWhatever you say, cutie. Just know by the end of this month Iâll be taking you on a dateâ He chuckles, switching off his game and grabbing his phone. âYou have my full attention, sweetheart, how was your day?â He asks you, smiling at your red face.
âDamn, you making me feel special~â you say, kicking your feet. You start to ramble about your day, talkin a bout how you found a book to read and a new pen set that came in pink, backtracking and retelling all the moments of your day. The whole time you failed to notice how Minghao never took his eyes off of you, listening attentively to any and everything you said as if it was the Holy Bible.
âOh sorry am I talking too much?â You ask, realizing youâve been rambling for the past 15 minutes. Minghao looks at you, smiling scarcely before shaking his head no and asking you to continue. âNo Iâve said too much about myself, how about you tell me about your day!â You retort. âI guess I could tell youâŚâ he begins, âSo today was just a normal day, so I just get through school and then I head to my shift. At work thereâs a couple customers, a slow day today to be honest. But then this girl walks in, and sheâs so beautiful. I saw her once but I couldnât really take in how she looked because she was gone so fast. She had on the cutest brown skirt on and a deep v-neck sweater.â He explains, looking at you.
Your checks start to go red as he continues. âI donât think she saw me at first, but once she came up to the counter she had this cute embarrassed look in her face, trying not to look at me. She ended up buying some lingerie and a dildoâŚ. caught be by surprise a little bit..â He recalled, unknowingly smiling.
âShe sounds sexy.â You joke, flipping your hair. âShe was. If she gave me a chance I would show her the best time. Cant wait to make her mine.â He murmurs as he plays along with you. Your face turns red at his remark, mind going completely blank. You catch him laugh at your flushed face and hang up the call.
*call ended*
_______________________________________________
Minghao: Whatâs wrong princess ;)
Y/N: Iâll mentally princess this in the morning, goodnight Minghao đ
Minghao: Goodnight princess â¤ď¸
_______________________________________________
For the next few days at school Minghao has growing to acknowledge you at school, waving and saying hi to you when you usually pass him instead of quick waves. You both still text over the phone and the tension is basically palpable.
After two weeks it went from waves and quicks greetings to him walking you to class and holding your bags, with full blown conversations. Sometimes after school you would head to the mall with him while he worked his shift and you shopped around in the mall, having him drop you off back house afterwards. He would slightly tease you by grazing your thighs when your wearing a skirt or touching your hand while you walk to class.
He started giving you his jackets, albeit they were larger on you compared to him, they smelled like him and they were soft. Rumors started that the two of you were dating, some thought he just wanted to get a quick fuck out of you. He had grown to be a close friend within the span of 3 weeks and you still found yourself folding for him. Sometimes he would call you shirtless, toned torso on display as you tried desperately not to stare at the camera for too long.
One day after school he offered to drive you to the mall with him, and of course you accepted. Later on into the drive you realize that the road he was taking didnât lead to the mall. âMinghao you missed your turn there.â You inform him. âI know. Change of plans, weâre not going to the mall.â He smiles, placing his hand on your thigh. âOkay, then where are you taking us? You wonât kill me right?â You ask skeptically.
âNo princess, I wonât kill you.â He chuckles, squeezing the soft flesh of your leg for reassurance.
After 15 minutes he pulls up to a deserted park, not a soul in sight besides the both of you. You ask him questions but he just leads you out of the car, reassuring you that youâre okay . He covers your eyes as you walk and you canât say you were all for it, threatening to scream if he tried to kill you.
After 5 minutes you both stop walking and he uncovers your eyes. The sight before you is beautiful. He hung up lights and set the picnic table with all different foods you mentioned you liked. On the table was also a basket of Hello Kitty and Pink items. Minghao pulled you to the table so you both could eat together.
Soon after Minghao pulled out his laptop from his bag and told you to watch a show with him. Instead of your generic show playing like Euphoria or an anime, it was a video he had tittled â 15 things I love about youâ with pictures and videos of the two of you he had taken throughout the few weeks he had known you.
You nearly cried as the list went on, so appreciative of the sweet gesture and ready to kiss the boy beside you at any moment. After the video ended he pulled out a letter from his back pocket and grabbed your hand.
âDear Y/Nâ he began, âYouâve been plaguing my mind for the past 4 weeks, your smile, your scent, your eyes, your everything. Iâve never felt like this before until I saw you. I know itâs corny as hell and this isnât usually expected of me but I wanted to ask if youâll let me be your boyfriend. I promise to care for you as much as possible and never make you cry. Your so precious to me and I want to have the permission to call you mine.â He read, putting down the letter and looking you in the eyes. âSo?â He asks, waiting for an answer.
You look up at him, raising form your seat to reach across the table and kiss him softly. âHi, boyfriendâ you answer, smiling. He smiles back at you before taking your face and kissing you deeper. He comes across the table to you and lifts you up, holding your body and peppering kisses all over your face. Who knew the emo kid who works at Spencers was such a romantic?
"Itâs funny; Minghaoâs whole career is about being in the driverâs seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesnât know when to press on the gas or hit the brake."
you go following flights to the stars, and these cars can get us home (zayn)
genre: smut (18+ / mdni), f1 au, brief high school au, angst, fluff
description: being a doctor, you think you should feel guilty when you start to enjoy the presence of a âregularâ a little too much, but who can blame you for missing your patient when he's xu minghao. you knowâthe xu minghao: crown jewel of SECTOR Racing, top pick of the season, and possibly the one person who knows more about you than anyone else in the world.
tags: character death (not reader / hao), discussion of medical issues, descriptions of pain, pining, racer minghao, physiotherapist reader, probably inaccurate representation of physiotherapy, also featuring kwannie, sollie, cheol, wonu, & hannie
w/c: 13.3k
fic playlist
a/n: oh. always thank u to @gyuswhore for helping me w this, and special smooches to han for going over this w me too ^^
smut tags. oral (m receiving), pet names (baby)
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Cheol is going to kill Minghao when he finds out he somehow managed to screw himself over while training. Well, only if Minghao doesnât kill himself first.
It was just supposed to be a regular session, doing some standard neck exercises with Wonwoo, his training partner. General training shitâyou know, the stuff Minghao needs to do so his neck doesnât snap in half the next time he races and thenâpang! Pain flares up in his muscles when Wonwoo adjusts the controls on the harness around Minghaoâs head a little harder, the latter losing his form in a moment of unexpectancy.
His hand flies up immediately Wonwoo stops, shutting off the controls and loosening the tether attached to Minghaoâs harness, releasing all the tension. âAre you good?â he asks, taking a step closer as he takes in the sight of the racer.
Wonwooâs heart sinks into his chest when he finds Minghaoâs head and neck unmoving, staring straight down as his breaths begin to grow shaky, andâcrap, his eyes are glossy andâoh fuck, Wonwoo might just shit his pants.
âHaoââ Wonwoo calls out again, this time his voice drenched with worry as he reaches out to try and untie the harness from around his friends head, but as his hand brushes over the back of his neck, Minghao shifts a little and thatâs when Wonwoo hears itâa sharp gasp following by Minghao muttering under his breath:
âG-get the medic.â
His voice is labored and Wonwoo knows exactly what to do and nothing at the same time. His mind is racing because holy crap, SECTOR probably just lost their best racer for a few months, if not the entire racing season, and itâs all because of this stupid neck training session, andâWonwoo stops himself from thinking about what this means for Minghaoâs work and forces himself to scramble back, running out of the training room and down to the nursing hall.
Five minutes and several phone calls later, Minghao is being loaded into a stretcher. He doesnât say a word though, doesnât know what to say.
Five hours and even more phone calls later, Minghao is sitting up with a brace around his neck, and his manager and friends around his hospital bed (Wonwoo and Hasnsol are to his left while Seungcheol stands on his right).
âSo youâre telling me I wonât be able to compete for the rest of the season?â Minghao finally scoffs out after a couple minutesâ worth of silence in tense air.
âWe donât know that yet,â Cheol responds, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches the racer carefully. Minghaoâs lips are curved down in a heavy frown but his eyes remain unwavering as he finally looks up at his manager.
âFuck,â he breaths out.
âDoes it hurt a lot?â Hansol asks worriedly, and Minghao knows that his friend is only just concerned for him but all the pain and frustration is already starting to bubble up inside of him.
âLike a bitch,â he mutters bitterly.
Seungcheol sighs deeply, stepping closer to the bed. He knows the situation isnât easy for Minghaoâit isnât easy for anyoneâand heâs aware of the stakes involved for the team. âHao, you know weâll do anything to get you back on the track as soon as possible.â
Minghao scoffs, not meeting the eyes of his manager. âYeah. I know.â
Wonwoo nearly flinches at the stillness of his friendâs voice. âIâm sorry,â he finally says loudly, causing the other three in the room to look at him. âI messed up with the controlsâitâs my fault, and Iââ
âItâs fine,â Minghao huffs, tearing his eyes away from his friend. âIt was an accident.â
Itâs not fine. Itâs not fucking fine at all andâ
Deep breaths, Minghao reminds himself, but when he actually starts to think about the ache that blooms from his neck and down his spine, it gets harder and harder to keep his cool. He feels like heâs âbout to pop a vein from all the blood thatâs rushing through his body, the only thing snapping him out of his trance being Wonwooâs voice.
âYouâll start seeing a physiotherapist tomorrow.â
âTomorrow?â Best to start the recovery process early, Minghao thinks to himself, mildly calming his irritation. He purses his lips, trying to navigate the cluster of thoughts that plague his mind until he finally musters up the courage to ask, âHow long is it gonna take? T-to heal?â
His friends look at him solemnly, and Minghao feels his heart sink right down to his stomach.
âWe donât know.â
âYou already saââ Minghao stops himself from saying something he might regret. âCould I actually be out the whole season?â
Thereâs silence until Cheol finally decides to speak up.
âThereâs a chance.â
Minghao thinks he might scream.
âHey Seungie!â you chirp, walking into the reception of your office with a bright smile. Your best friend greets you with only an eye roll as you approach his counter at the front, peeking at him from over his monitor.
âI told you to stop calling me that in public!â he whines, nose scrunched up as you laugh at the way heâs pouting.
âNo oneâs even here, no oneâll hear anything,â you try to reason as he huffs and turns away, refusing to look at you.
âStill!â
You sigh, putting down a brown bag on the floor before raising your hands up in surrender. âOkay fine, Iâm sorry.â
âAre you really?â
This time, you roll your eyes. âYes ⌠Seungieââ
âI hate you!â Seungkwan roars as you double over laughing. âI hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Iâm officially disowning you as my best friend.â
You gasp, stepping back and picking up the brown bag again. âAre you kidding me? And here I thought I wouldâve liked to share one of my Americanos with you but I guess not âŚâ you sigh dramatically, starting to walk away as you lift the bag to wave it in Seungkwanâs face.
âI was just joking! Come back! How could I disown you as my best friendâcâmon, you know I was just joking,â he pleads from behind you.
You grin as you turn around and walk back to him with a grin. âYouâre horribly unpersuasive. Like your acting skills are actually an abomination,â you tell him, pulling out one of the cups of the cold drink and handing it to Seungkwan. âYouâre lucky I love you,â you continue, laughing a little as Seungkwan snatches the cup away hastily with a bashful âthanksâ under his breath.
âOkay, well ditto to you too,â he barks back. âWho else would put up with you and your ugly crying over Taylor Swift music videos?â
âHey! Wildest Dreams is a lyrical, musical, theatrical, melodcial masterpiece! â
âOkay, first of all, melodical isnât even a word, and even if it wasââ Seungkwan is cut off by the ringing of the office phone line. âI probably need to answer this but we are not done with this conversation,â he shoots at you.
You giggle, waving him off and heading down one the hall to get to your office, barely catching what Seungkwan is saying, or who heâs even talking to. It vaguely crosses your mind that itâs a bit too early in the morning for your office to be getting work calls, but you brush it off as you slip past your door and into your little room.
Itâs a nice little space youâve made for yourself; your physiotherapy firm was set up a few years back, and youâd even recently gone through a certification process to belt yourself as one of SECTORâs physiotherapists. Pretty exciting stuff when you think about itâbeing able to work with such top-notch racers (albeit under rather unfortunate circumstances), and you get to do what you love at the same time.
Now, you havenât actually gotten any big-shot patients yet, and youâve started to appreciate that more recently. Itâs not as stressful, and you donât have to navigate a possibly awkward doctor-patient relationship with someone whoâs dealing with what might be a career-changing injury.
You wonder when youâll stop forgetting that your luck ran out years ago.
Just as you set your bag down and slip into your chair to answer some emails, Seungkwan is knocking on your door and walking in. âHey, uh, this is kinda important,â he tells you, pointing behind him at his desk where he was taking the call.
âWhatâs up?â you ask, slightly worried by Seungkwanâs quick change in demeanor from playful to serious.
âSome doctor at SECTORâs facility just called andââ Crap, you know where this is going already. ââXu Minghao just fucked up his neck. Like yesterday. And heâs getting discharged from the hospital in a few hours hopefully and theyâre gonna send him over right away so you can take a look and start working with him.â
You press your lips together tightly, head going slightly dizzy at the mention of his name. Of course, when you finally got yourself licensed to practice under SECTOR, you were aware of the possibility of working with him, but this feels a little too real and a little too fast.
âYou good?â Seungkwan asks, snapping you out of your haze. âLost you for a secondâit looks like youâve just seen a ghost.â
âSorry, just zoned out,â you laugh stiffly, turning on your computer and taking a shaky breath. âIâm a bit nervous I guess. Iâve never worked with a professional like himâat least not yet,â you continue to say, and itâs not entirely a lie.
You are nervous, and in any other situation you would try your best to just not think about the situation but given Xu Minghao is going to step into your office in a few hours, you figure you should get to work right away.
Seungkwan steps out soon, saying, âYou got this. Seriously, youâve been working so hard for so long and you finally get to work with one of the big shots!â
Chuckling at his optimism, you finally open the email application on your monitor. Your inbox is flooded with emails, most of which are a series of X-rays and MRI scans of your soon to be patient, and so taking a deep breath, you dive in.
âHey Hannie, did you sanitize Room C?â you ask one of your (few) employees as he steps out from the supply room behind the reception.
âShoot, was it supposed to be C? Iâm sorry, I cleaned up B, but I can go to C and get it sanitized right nowââ he starts to say, turning towards the supply room at the end of the hall.
âHey wait no itâs okay, I just asked for C âcause itâs a bit bigger but it doesn't really matter. Donât worry about itâhave you had your lunch break yet?â
âNah not yet, I was just about to step into that with Seungkwan, but heâs taken a moment to grab coffee from the cafe across the street.â
You chuckle, âAlready? I got him an Americano only a few hours ago âŚâ
Jeonghan laughs out loud at that, slipping off his cleaning gloves and patting his hands down on his scrubs. âYou know how Seungkwan is with his Americanos.â
âDonât remind meâheâs crazy. I donât know how he ingests that much caffeine and still functions like a normal human being butââ
Seungkwanâs voice cuts you off. âI know you guys are talking about me but Iâd suggest you take a break and go get ready because I swear I just saw a car with SECTORâs logo on the back pull up onto the street right up front.â
Oh fuck. Youâre already starting to feel awfully nervous.
âShit, really? I didnât think theyâd be here as early as noon,â Jeonghan says quickly, tossing the gloves and turning to you for instruction. âAnything we need to do?â
âGuys, just chill,â you say casually. Ironic, you think to yourself, because you feel like your heart might pound right out of your chest any second now. âJust handle this like you would any other patient. Iâll probably have to talk to his manager, but while weâre doing that Jeonghan can take Xu into B and just ease him into things. Lay off the tension, you know? Heâs probably stressed out as is.â
âNoted,â Jeonghan nods as he walks down the hall, and then you turn to the door of the reception where you see a group of three people walking up.
You try to make out their figures; that one on the leftâs probably one of SECTORâs health directors, and the one on the right is ⌠thatâs Choi Seungcheol isnât it? The one who sent you the emails? Heâs Xu Minghaoâs manager, youâre pretty sure of it.
You straighten your back when the front door opens, clutching the clipboard full of prints of the scans you were sent earlier. Setting your eyes straight, you take a deep breath and finally take in the sight of the three people filling into the reception.
Yup, thereâs Choi Seungcheol ⌠and then Cho Miyeon following behind and sheâs pushing aâshit, itâs Xu Minghao in all his glory.
Well, youâre not sure how wondrous he feels right now in that wheelchair, eyes cold as he stares at the floor. His neckâs held up in a thick brace that you can see reaches down under his shirt and over his shoulders; he doesnât look up, and for a moment youâre grateful.
It puts off the question though, the words that linger in the back of your mind.
Will he recognize you? Well, more importantly âŚ
Does he even remember you?
You rid yourself of the personal thoughts when Choi Seungcheol approaches you, holding out his hand to you. You shake it, strong and firm as he smiles awkwardly. âNice to meet you, thanks for making time for us today.â
âNo problem,â you reply with a nod as Jeonghan comes in from the hallway. âMy assistant, Jeonghan here can take Mr. Xu to one of our rooms while I talk with you two about a few things. Does that work?â
âYeah, sounds great,â Seungcheol nods, motioning Jeonghan to Minghao in his wheelchair behind him. The racer keeps his head down as Jeonghan brushes over and starts pushing him down the hall to Room B. You wonder if heâs even noticed you.
As Jeonghan goes off, you turn back to the other two still in the reception and point at your room. âShall we?â
Once the three of you settle down, Seungcheol and Miyeon sit across from you, the former speaks up. âThanks for seeing us on such short noticeâthis all happened really quick and if you can't already tell, weâre kind of desperate to get him back in the driverâs seat as soon as possible.â
âNo worries, please. These kinds of situations are exactly what Iâm here for,â you tell them, and they both seem to crack a small smile of relief. âNow I spoke with the doctor that examined him at the hospital, and then briefly with Ms. Cho,â you say, motioning towards the woman on your right, âAnd thereâs a general understanding that Mr. Xuâs suffered a pretty serious strain in his neck muscles.â
âYeah, uhâhow long is this going to take to heal?â Seungcheol pops in, and you sigh.
âI can give you a range, but itâs not so definite ⌠Iâd say between three to five months,â you tell him. âBut again, itâs different for every patient. Muscle strains arenât like a clean break or fracture where we can determine almost exactly when itâll be healed ⌠this stuff is going to take more time and it varies from person to person as well. It all kind of depends on Mr. Xuâs body, and thatâs what Iâm here forâto help figure out what works for him.â
âWe understand that, thank you,â Miyeon nods, sitting straighter in her seat. âHow often should he be coming in?â
âHm, Iâll give you a definite answer after checking in with him today, but to estimate, Iâd say around 2-3 times a week, while also using my suggestions outside of our sessions.â
You finish the conversation with the two after that, excusing yourself as you let them back into the reception before knocking on the door to Room B. Jeonghan opens the door from the other side and quietly closes the door behind him before pushing you a little deeper into the hallway.
âHe seems like, really sad, soââ
âWell, duh. Itâs a serious injury,â you say with a roll of your eyes. Jeonghan clicks his lips and nudges your shoulder.
âWhatever. Iâm just telling you to tread carefully,â he says as you make your way to the door. You donât respond to Jeonghan as you slip in. Minghaoâs turned away from you as he sits on his wheelchair in the middle of the room you purse your lips before taking a deep breath and nodding.
You got this. Seungkwan was rightâyouâve worked too hard for too long to be rendered anxious âcause of a silly little overlap of your past with your patient.
âHi Mr. Xu,â you greet, making your way to the table right by where he sits, finally seeing him up close. He doesnât look at you. âIâm pretty sure you already have heard enough about whatâs wrong with your neck right now, so letâs talk about how we can make it better, yeah?â
You hear a gruff, âSure,â escape his lips, and you figure that given his circumstances, itâs understandable.
âThe report says that when you first started feeling the pain you couldnât move your right arm even a little without it hurting in your neck, right?â you clarify as you sit at the chair between him and your table.
âYeah.â
âIs it better now?â
âA little. Can move my forearm but moving my shoulder still hurts.â
âOkay, this is a good sign actuallyâyouâre getting through the initial stages of healing just like normal. The first week or so of strain like yours might be pretty painful, but itâs over quickly and the pain after that should be pretty bearable, although itâll take more time for it to heal.â You tell him, looking away to glance at the scans.
As he stares at the ground, Minghao wants to scream. Good sign? What the fuck are you talking aboutâhe canât even lift his goddamn arm without it feeling like thereâs daggers plunging into his neck, and youâre here sitting all calm faced, pristine, acting like this isnât his fuckinâ career on the line. Acting like your words are gonna make a difference as long as heâs in this stupid ass brace with this stupid ass injury in this stupid ass room withâwho the fuck even are you?
His head hurts, and Minghao thinks itâs partly because of his neck, but itâs mostly because he canât stop thinking. Thinking about the worst possibilities, thinking about everything that could go wrong andâwell shit, he chides himself for letting his anger get the better of himself, even if it was just in his head.
Shamefully, he presses his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before finally lifting his gaze and turning to face you. When you look up from your paper and finally turn back to him, youâre met with the sight of pretty brown eyes staring right back at you.
âIââ Minghao starts, but it sounds like the air got stuck in his throat as he finally takes in your figure, and then he purses his lips together and turns back away. âNothing.â the possibilities of what he could have been thinking ruins your mind just a little.
You can see it in his eyesâMinghao remembers. Still, he doesnât say anything about it, and you wonder if you prefer things to stay that way.
âWhat time is Xu scheduled for on Wednesdays? Heâll be coming in on Wednesdays, right?â Jeonghan asks as he steps into your office.
âUh, heâs coming in for a session from 11-2 todayâwhich, by the way, could you set up Room C for that? I canât remember if I already put that on the to-do list.â
âYeah I did it yesterday after our last patient of the day, I was just wondering. Youâre gonna lead it with him this time, right?â
âYeah, since itâs the first session. You were right about him being ⌠apprehensiveââ
âSad,â Jeonghan corrects you. âA sad, sad boy.â
âYeah well, go figure,â you sigh out of sympathy. âAnyways, like I said, itâs understandable for him to be frustrated, so Iâll work with him at first to ease him into things and stuff. You can start taking over more of the sessions once he warms up to the whole process, and once we figure out and set a routine.â
âOkay great. Does this mean I can go out for my lunch break at 11:30?â
âYeah, go ahead,â you reply with a casual shrug as Jeonghan thanks you and slips away. You shift your attention back to your monitor before glancing through the initial medical reports you were sent by the hospital, and then the results of your own tests you ran during your first session with Xu Minghao.
Itâs a shitty injury, youâll have to admit. A neck strain on the muscles closest to his right shoulder, not only rendering his neck immobile for a period of time, but also hindering his abilities to move his right arm.
Must hurt like a bitchâphysically and mentallyâand the image of him staring down at the ground burns in the back of your mind.
With a sigh, you silently wonder if you could offer him the same solace he gave you.
Xu Minghao shows up to your office two hours later with Choi Seungcheol pushing him inside on his wheelchair, and youâre thankful to see that his stature looks much more relaxed than before. âIâll come by at 2, right?â
âYeah, thatâll be great. Thank you,â Jeonghan tells Mr. Choi with a smile before taking control of Minghaoâs wheelchair and strolling him into the room. Youâre already there and waiting for him, standing up to greet him with a smile.
âHi Mr. Xu,â you say, thanking Jeonghan as he leaves the room and closes the door behind him.
âMorning,â he says quietly, not quite meeting your gaze. The air isnât as thick as it was the first day, but there seems to be some invisible barrier between the two.
âHowâs the pain right now, Mr. Xu?â you ask, pulling out a notepad on your computer to jot down some notes.
Your patientâs eyebrows furrow, and for a second you have a feeling this might be harder than you thought, but his next words are more comforting than anything. âUh, can you just call me Minghao? Mr. Xu is ⌠itâs weird.â
âY-yeah of course, sorry about that, Minghao,â you nod with a half smile. âSo could you tell me how things are feeling?â
âI guess it hurts less. I donât really move that much so I can avoid hurting myself thoughâkinda in this thing most of the time anyways,â he replies gruffly, hitting the left side of the wheelchair with his palm.
âDo you stand up? Walk around at all?â
âNot often.â
âOkay so I think weâre going to try and change that soon,â you tell him. âWeâll do some mobility checks today but if it doesnât hurt to move your shoulder a little, then I think itâs best you move as much as you can without pain. Honestly, youâre going to be injured for a while andââ
You pause when you hear Minghao inhale sharply at that, making a mental note to soften your words a little.
ââand we donât want you to be immobile. If you can move, try to. Weâll try and get you out of the wheelchair within the next two weeks, how does that sound?â
Minghaoâs ears perk up at that. âTwo weeks? Only?â
You nod happily at his sudden energy and the ghost of a smile on his lips. âYeah, you know the wheelchair is just so you donât move your upper body too much but like I said the last time we met, the initial stages are pretty painful but once itâs over, youâll be more mobile. Of course, you wonât be able to get back to racing and training right away, but youâll be able to be a lot more active than you are now.â
âHow long will it take before I can start training again?â Minghao asks curiously, finally looking you straight in the eye with parted lips.
The desperation is painful to watch.
âI donât know,â you tell him honestly, watching his shoulders deflate. âAt least two months.â
âTwo months?â
âAt the least,â you say with a held breath.
âAt the most?â Minghao asks hopefully.
You purse your lips. âAt the most? ⌠A year?â
âA year? Thatâs more than a whole racing season!â
âYes but neck strains are fickle and we canât let anything go wrong, and due to the nature of your sport, you reallyââ
âI think I know the nature of my own sport,â Minghao scoffs, and with the way he says it, you donât know if you should be mad or sad or disappointed or a mix of all three.
âIââ you pause, âI understand your frustration Mr.âMinghao, but my job is to make sure youâre one hundred percent healed before you set foot on the track again, so please be patient and allow yourself to heal.â
Something about those last few words rings in Minghaoâs ears, and he zones out for the rest of what youâre saying.
Allow yourself to heal. Fuck.
Minghao stays pretty much silent for the rest of the session, and youâre not quite sure if itâs out of complacency or indifference. You go through some slow mobility exercises, and figure out a good range for him to stay in for the next few days.
âMake sure you practice those movements every day,â you note once you near the end of todayâs session. âIâll send you an email listing all of them with instructions so you remember. Please try and do them every day, and itâll hopefully speed up the recovery process.â
âThanks,â Minghao murmurs as he carefully sits back down in his wheelchair.
âIs there anything else youâre doing in your free time right now?â you ask, trying to make casual conversation as you start to type up your list.
âNot really. I watch practice videos and stuff, I guess.â
You hum, not really responding until you finally finish the list and send it to his email. âI sent the list, you should start using it tomorrow. Anyways, I think you should try crocheting,â you tell him casually.
Minghao gives you a sideways glance as he raises an eyebrow. â⌠Crocheting?â
âYeah,â you say with a shrug, finally turning around to face. âYou know, with yarn and stuff.â
âI know what crocheting is.â
âI-I know,â you say awkwardly, slightly thrown off your game by his bluntness. âYou wonât have to move your shoulders, only your forearms, so itâs fine.â
âBut why?â
âItâs fun. And a nice way to pass time, especially when you canât move around a lot. Plus, itâs always good to have something to distract yourself fromââ You pause, thinking about how to finish your sentence. ââfrom shitty stuff, yâknow?â
Minghao chuckles, and your heart swells a little when you finally see him break a smile. âYeah, I guess.â Thereâs a long pause. âShitty stuff, huh?â
You laugh, nodding. âYeah. Shitty stuff.â
âYou and your stupid Americanos,â you sigh, watching Seungwkan grin as the barista hands him his drink.
âStop acting like you donât indulge in me too. Getting me all those Americanos in the morning ⌠I should blame you for this addiction!â
âSo you admit itâs an addiction!â you exclaim triumphantly, waving your hands in the air. Seungkwan rolls his eyes, leaving you to sit at a table in one of the corners of the cafe. Laughing at his silent admission of defeat, you wait for your drink patiently.
Itâs only a few more moments before the barista is back at the counter, calling out, âHoney lavender latte!â With a smile, you walk over, about to reach for the drink before a hand beats you to it.
Frowning, you look up at the man whoâs holding your drink before you say, âHey, Iâm sorry, I think thatâs my drink.â
âUh, honey lavender latte? Iâm pretty sure I ordered this,â he says. You look at him with a funny expression on your face, eyes darting between the drink you ordered and the drink thatâs in his other hand. He catches your suspicion and shakes his head quickly. âItâs for my friend, I ordered for the both of us so I could get us a spot.â
âOh,â you breath out, figuring that it probably isnât a lie. âS-sorry for the misunderstanding. I justââ you chuckle, watching some of the tension from the manâs shoulders wither away. âI ordered the same thingââ
âOh sorry, Iâmy friend isnât here yet so you can just take this and Iâll wait for the other to come out,â he offers, watching your face, and you see something in his expression change. âHey wait, you look really familiar,â he murmurs.
Your eyebrows furrow as you silently thank him when he hands you the drink. âUh, are you sure? Iâm sorry, I justâI donât think Iâve ever seen you before,â you admit with an awkward chuckle.
The man shakes his head and laughs quietly to myself. âNo, I swear Iâve seen you somewhere, but Iâm just blanking on it right nowâsorry this is probably so weird butââ The bell of the front door rings and he shoots his head to see whoâs coming in, eyes lighting up. âOh hey, Hao! Was just waiting for you!â
Hao? Minghâ
You lock eyes as soon as he walks in.
The man from before beams as he walks up to him as your eyes finally break away, and Minghao turns to his friend. âHansol,â he greets with a small smile, and itâs a pleasant sight to see your patientâwhoâs more often monotone than notâseem a bit more at ease than before.
âHowâre you doing? Was just waiting on your drink andââ the manâHansolâpoints at you with eyes as wide as saucers, ââoh by the way, doesnât she look really familiar?â
You chuckle nervously, breaking out an awkward smile and waving at Minghao who returns you by raising his left arm in a sort of half-wave before turning his attention to Hansol to give him a blank stare. âYeah, sheâs kinda like my physiotherapist dude.â
This time, you chuckle a bit more genuinely, eyes darting between the amused smirk thatâs just barely there on Minghaoâs lips, and Hansolâs agape stare.
âOhh shit, yeah thatâs where I saw you! Cheol and Miyeon were talking about you when they were booking you for Hao at the hospital, and I saw your picture on the screen,â Vernon explains as the realization hits him.
âOh,â you laugh lightly. âThatâs funny,â you reply as you turn your attention to Minghao, âGood to see youâre getting out of that wheelchair. I bet it feels nice to finally stretch your legs and stuff,â you say. If Minghao could move his neck without eruptions of pain, heâd nod his head.
For now though, he settles on smiling and saying, âYeah, itâs refreshing.â His eyes wander around you, taking in how you arenât dressed in your usual work attire, but rather clad in a cute outfit. âIs that my drink?â he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he points at the coffee youâve just taken a sip of.
Hansol laughs and shakes his head. âYou two got the same drink so when it came out, I just let âer have it, since you werenât here yet.â He glances around before putting his drink down at a nearby table. âShit, I think I left my laptop in my car,â he murmurs, looking at his friend. âIâm gonna go get it so I can show you those videos I was talking about.â
âYeah, thatâs chill,â Minghao agrees. Hansol smiles at you and then his friend before quickly retreating from the cafe to get to the parking lot, leaving you and the tall man standing in silence. Itâs a few passing moments where you awkwardly sip on your drink before something pops in your mind.
âHey, itâs actually really funny that youâre seeing me right now becauseâwell itâs not funny funny, but itâs a nice coincidence so I guess that counts as funny butâanyways, look, I crocheted this cardigan.â You smile, lifting your arms a little so he can see the dark, navy blue fabric you made yourself, before turning around to show off the light blue, striped pattern on the back. âCool, right?â
âYeah, itâs pretty. Nice color scheme and all,â Minghao agrees.
âThanks. Have you started crocheting? I can send you some videos to get you started,â you offer. Just as Minghao is about to reply, the barista from behind you calls out another order of your drink, causing both of you to glance back. âOh, you wait there; Iâll get it,â you say, putting your drink down on the same table Hansol did before walking over to grab Minghaoâs drink and hand it back to his left hand.
âThank you, you didnât have to,â he says as your fingers brush over each other before falling back to your side. âIsnât your friend waiting for you?â
âOf course I have to. Iâm your doctor! I canât make you do that,â you reason before pointing back at your best friend. âAnd are you talking about Seungkwan? Looks like heâs having the time of his life doingââ You turn your head around to glance at him before looking back at Minghao, ââdoing god knows what on his phone andââ
âAre you talking about me?â you hear Seungkwanâs voice calling from a few meters away, and the way you cringe has Minghao stifling a giggle. âAll good things I hope!â he continues.
âYou know it!â you shoot back sarcastically, only to be followed by Seungkwanâs rolling eyes. âThat little shit. I pay his bills!â you exclaim, a faux frown making its way onto your face.
Minghao laughs, his head throwing back a little. The small movement flares up a bite of pain in his neck, causing his breath to get stuck in his throat, eyes widening as he slowly shifts back into a comfortable position.
âSorry,â you murmur sheepishly.
If Minghao could shrug without feeling like his neck would snap in half, he would. Instead, he raises his eyebrow playfully when he says, âAre you seriously apologizing for being funny?â
You roll your eyes. âIâm retracting my apology.â
Itâs been around three weeks since you started working with Minghao. Heâs warmed up to you a fair amount, and ever since you saw him at the cafe, the air around you two has been lighter.
Itâs still a bit awkward at timesâskitting around the moments where you wonder if you should say something about the elephant in the room before shaking your head and biting your tongue. Then again, given how often you see Minghao, youâve gotten used to it.
Seungkwan stops by your office this morning when he walks into work. âMorning,â he greets, dropping a small brown bag by your desk as you file through some papers.
âOoh, thank you,â you tell him gleefully, taking a break from your task to glance at the chocolate muffin that sits inside of the bag. âIâve been craving this,â you admit, reaching in and picking out a small piece to stuff into your mouth.
âYour welcome,â Seungkwan sighs, sitting down on the seat in front of you. âAnyways, I found something cool that I donât think you told me.â
You raise your eyebrows at him skeptically. âYeah? What is it?â
âYou and Xu Minghao are from the same hometown!â
You roll your eyes. âWhy do you still keep calling him Xu Minghao? Heâs told us to just say Minghao, and even if he didnât, itâs awkward when you say his full name like that.â
Seungkwan scoffs at you, reaching his hand over to try and flick your forehead but you dodge. âBecause heâs Xu Minghao. I canât believe you arenât still jumping up and down for getting to work with him, seeing how much you love SECTOR.â
âYou want me to be happy that the best racer from my favorite team is injured?â
âUgh, you know I didnât mean it like that.â
âWhatever,â you shrug, a small hint of a smile peeking from your lips.
âAnyways, you didnât answer what I actually said. Why didnât you tell me you guys are from the same area? Thatâs so cool!â
âI mean I guess,â you say with a shrug.
âAnd you guys are the same age soâwait, did you go to school together? Oh my god, are you guys likeâI donât know, long lost best friends or something?â Seungkwanâs eyes widen. âOh, thatâd be so coolâI could totally see a movie on this andâwait! If heâs your long lost best friend, where does that leave me? You better not replace me with him!â
You laugh at the progression of his thoughts, almost choking on your second bite of the muffin. âWe did go to school together,â you admit. âItâs not like we crossed paths though. He kinda just, I donât know, existed back then. So no worries for you, youâre not getting replaced any time soon ⌠unfortunately,â you add with mischievous giggle.
âBetter not âŚâ Seungkwan huffs.
Minghao comes in a few hours later for his afternoon session. Jeonghan works with him for the first two of the three hours, and you walk in for the last hour. You go over some more mobility exercises, before finally sitting down so you can discuss his progress.
âSo things are going really well,â you start to tell him, beginning to list off a couple signs of development which stood out to you. Youâre about to commend him on keeping up the exercises everyday, when you notice him staring at the floor with a blank expression. âH-hey, Minghao?â you ask, clearing your voice when he doesnât respond. âMinghao.â
His eyes shoot up to yours, shoulders tensing for a second before he lets out a deep breath. âSorry, zoned out for a second.â
You chuckle nervously, wondering if itâs okay if you probe just a little. âYou good?â
âYeah,â Minghao replies casually, but you catch the way he doesnât meet your gaze. âJust thinking about last nightâs race.â
âOh, Singapore?â
âYeah.â
âI was able to catch a bit of it last night, but I passed out. It seemed intense thoughâyou see Kimâs pit stop?â
âYeah, it was kinda insane,â Minghao says breathily. His expression is unreadable, but heâs continuing to respond and so you choose to let things go on naturally. âHeâs been living up to his talent now that his shitbox is back to what itâs supposed to be.â
âCanât imagine how frustrating it is.â Fuck, when Minghaoâs shoulders drop, it feels like you said something you probably shouldnât have.
I can imagine, Minghao thinks after hearing your response, but he bites back the words. âYeah,â he says dejectedly instead.
Silence. This seems like a good chance to change the topic.
âUhââ Sorry, you want to say, but you choose to hold your breath instead. âI have good news.â
âOh?â
âWe can get you out of the neck brace today,â you tell him happily.
Minghaoâs eyes light up. âReally?â
âYeah, your progress has been great. Didnât want to tell you earlier to get your hopes up, in case something went wrong, but everything has been looking really good and youâre at the point where we usually take any supports like braces off.â
Minghao grins, and itâs a stark contrast from the grim shadow cast on his face just moments earlier. You take a few moments to go over the procedures with him, helping him out of the foamy, firm brace with gentle hands and watchful eyes.
âHowâs it feeling?â you ask, setting the brace down by one of your counters so you can dispose of it later.
Minghao lets out a low groan of what you can only assume is relief when he looks up. âLike my skin can finally breathe,â he sighs heavily, a bright smile taking over his features as you turn to face him.
âIâm happy for you,â you tell him, before beginning a quick examination process of the area under the brace and going through some quick motions.
âAll done?â he asks. When you nod, he continues. âKinda early, huh?â he say pointendly, and you both quickly glance at the clock on the wall: his session is supposed to end in 43 minutes.
âOh yeah, uhâactually ⌠I was wondering if you wanted to try something?â you ask tentatively, and Minghao senses your hesitation. âIf you have the time.â
Raising a brow, he nods. âYeah I donât mind, what is it?â
âOne second,â you tell him, getting up and leaving the room to grab something from your office. Shyly, you walk back in and to your seat, all while holding up a brown bag. âJust some old crocheting supplies I thought you might like,â you murmur, placing it down on the counter.
Minghao presses his lips together tightly, not expecting your words. âOh, uhâI havenât really ⌠I havenât taken up crocheting yet. Sorry, uhââ
âOh yeah,â you say quickly, holding a hand up, using the other to show him the contents of the bag. Thereâs some balls of yarn and hooks in a little mess, and you reach in to take some out. âI figuredâitâs pretty intimidating to take up by yourself but,â you sigh. âI think itâll be really nice for you. I recommend it to a lot of my patients who canât do their regular activities and hobbies ⌠and now given your brace is off, your vision will have more range and it might be really fun for you. No pressure if you donât like it, but I thought it wouldnât hurt to show you the ropes,â you admit, holding up a ball of blue yarn.
Catching onto your pun, Minghao chuckles and replies, âSure, why not.â
âOkay great,â you say excitedly, dropping the bag and pulling your chair up in front of him and next to the table, pulling the supplies out.
Minghao is patient as you show off the different yarns and hooks, explaining the very basics in great detail. You canât quite tell if heâs being so obedient out of genuine interest, pity, or simply polite compliance, but for whatever reason, youâre thankful. Soon, youâre showing him how you do it yourself before handing him one of your spare hooks and the ball of yarn, letting Minghao test the waters for himself.
âYeah, just do that andâwait,â you mutter, reaching over to adjust the way heâs holding the hook. Your soft fingers gingerly brush over his knuckles, and Minghao finds himself getting lost for a moment. As you innocently fix the position of his fingers, his stomach churns in a manner he canât quite name. âYou got that?â you ask him suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.
âSorry, zoned out again. What was that?â
âSingapore really got you thinking, huh?â you muse before shaking your head and laughing it off.
âSorry, Iââ
âDonât worry about it. Here, I was just saying you should position your thumb like this or else you might start to cramp up really fast. Happens to me like crazy but I didnât fix my habit and now I just gotta crochet through the pain.â
Minghao looks at you with an odd expression. âCrochet ⌠through ⌠the pain?â
âThat sounded cooler in my head, my bad.â
Minghao laughs. Itâs not a tight chuckle, or a soft giggle, itâs a laugh. And itâs bright and full and tugging at your heartstrings in a way youâd rather ignore. âItâs okay.â
âAnyways ⌠here, Iâll show you how to start off with a slip knot and then weâll take things from there,â you instruct.
Slowly, you walk him through the steps. You learn that Minghao is a good learner. Heâs intuitive, but itâs not that you expect much differentâyou figure no one can get to the level heâs at without being quick to pick up on things.
Youâre soon showing him how to start a simple chain, the yarn and hook still in his hands as you work him through the process. âYeah, now you just gotta yarn over like thisâno, the other way, just like that ⌠andâyeah ⌠yeah!â you exclaim excitedly when Minghao slips the hook right through, lengthening the chain. âYou got it!â
âReally?â Minghao asks. âSimpler than I thought,â he admits aloud, and you nod vigorously.
âYeah ⌠crocheting looks hard from afar but once you actually get the hang of it, itâs as easy as breathing,â you explain, softly taking the yarn and hook from his hands and showing how it looks once you build in more loops.
He watches you carefullyâthe way your fingers so gently, with such precision; how your eyebrows furrow ever so slightly as you focus in on the task at hand, tongue unconsciously sticking out from the corner of your mouth, andâÂ
âYouâre really good at this,â Minghao murmurs quietly, and you swear heâs so close, his warm breath fans down on your cheeks. You gulp, pausing what youâre doing to look up at him.
âMy mother taught me. Itâs been a casual hobby ever since.â
You feel Minghaoâs eyes bore down on yours intensely, wondering if heâll respond. Something is screaming at you to pray heâll keep his mouth shut.
Minghao doesnât say a word, thankfully. Still, the possibilities of what could be running through his mind haunt you.
You think you should start feeling guilty. You think you should already be feeling guilty when you start to look forward to seeing Minghao. Heâs your patient for fuckâs sakeâyou should be happy heâs not holed up in here everyday.
Still, thereâs a weird feeling that festers in your chest when you think about him.
Minghao, and the way heâs so persistent, so patient, so attentive with all the exercises and information you tell him. Minghao, and the polite smile he throws your way at the beginning of each session. Minghao, and the way his eyes light up.
âWeâre going to try some new mobility exercises today,â you tell him today with a grin, standing up from your seat. Minghaoâs ears perk up as he catches the bright look on your face, and something inside of him swells with hope.
âReally?â
You smile and nod in return. âYeah! I mean your recovery has been really great so far and I think this is a good point to move on and see if we can test out an even wider range of motion.â Minghao doesnât really say anything in response, but the way his eyes light up when he watches you explain the exercises tells you enough.
In the hour that follows, you two walk through the exercises, trying out each one, and youâre almost three quarters through all the motions you planned today right before you show him how to angle his shoulder before a new exercise.
âHow are things feeling? Anything hurting? Anywhere?â you ask anxiously as Minghao comes out of the last stretch you showed him with a pleasant look on his face.
âNo, not like pain pain,â he says casually, leaning back into the chair. âNot the kinda pain from the strain, but I feel a bit of tension on my shoulder from keeping it in that position for too long.â
âOkay great,â you say, typing it down onto your digital notepad. âWeâll try and switch up that one next time so your body is completely relaxed from now on.â
âThanks. Whatâs the next exercise?â Minghao asks curiously upon taking in the information. You vaguely think to yourself about how you enjoy his growing warmnessâheâs been a lot more positive these past sessions with his rapid progress, and itâs bringing a much lighter atmosphere to Room C.
You explain the movement to him, explaining to him how to lift his shoulders just enough to circle them backwards without too much movement. Itâs going pretty smoothly like the other exercises; you explain, Minghao listens, you adjust, Minghao lets you.
Right now youâre about to lean in, hands brushing over his shoulder blade to guide them to a more steep angle, explaining to Minghao how to fix his posture. Your fingers brush over his collarbone and jaw a few times in the process, your eyes keeping steady on making sure he doesnât make any abrasive movements.
âThere we go,â you tell him after showing him how to do the circular movement with his shoulders. âWhy donât you try it by yourself?â
Shooting you a thumbs up, Minghao complies, lifting his shoulder forward first slowly. Heâs going through the motions of everything pretty normallyâafter all this is just like any other exercise so he doesnât really worry that much untilâfuck.
Holy shit, that quick but sharp pain stings so bad.
âHey, whatâs wrong?â you ask worriedly when Minghao stills, his eyes widening.
So much. So fucking much, Minghao thinks to himself.
âTalk to me,â you say, moving closer to him so you can move your hands over his shoulder and lead them back down to a natural position.
âIt h-hurt for a second. Really bad, but then it was gone,â Minghao says breathily. You purse your lips together and Minghao feels his heart sink to his chest when you turn around and type some stuff he canât read from where he sits. âIs this likeââ He needs to pause to collect himself so the nerves donât get to him. ââis it bad?â When you hesitate to respond, Minghao already knows his answer. âFuck.â
âLook, itâs just hurting in that spot for this exercise. The rest of your progress is amazing, but weâre just going to need to take it slower since youâve probably just overexerted the muscle a little bit.â
âSo Iâve been set back, basically,â Minghao says bluntly, his tone doing a full 180 from just a few moments earlier.
âNot a setback âŚâ you sigh. âJust a sign that we need to go slower right now.â You watch him worriedly when he presses his lips together and doesnât meet your gaze.
âSo a setback.â
You gulp. âYou canât think of this like that. I told you from the start that progress is never linear andââ
âI donât give a fuck, okay?â Minghao breaths out, and something about the way he says it with such a curt, tense tone almost makes you lose your composure. âThis isâfuck, this my career okay? I canât afford any setbacks.â
âI know that and thatâs why Iâm your doctor, okay?â you say, a bit more harshly than you intended.
You donât understand why youâre letting his hostility get to your head all of suddenâit isnât like you havenât had frustrated patients before. Fuck, youâve had people cry, sob, break down in this same room over slow progress but something about the way he looks so disheartened has your heart clenching.
âIâm here to help you,â you reiterate, your tone more composed than before. âBut I can only do that if you let me.â
Minghao eyes flicker between your wide eyes and his hands in his lap. Thereâs a growing knot that ties in his throat, and heâs too afraid to open his mouth to speak, too afraid of what he might say. Instead, he just huffs and stands up.
âSorry,â he finally musters up, eyes trained on the ground as you watch him carefully for his next move. âIâm leaving.â
You donât stop him as he walks away.
When Minghao walks into the reception a few days later, heâs not surprised to see that you arenât the one greeting him. He thinks back to the way your lips were pressed into a tight line when he walked out last week. It was the last time heâd seen you in the past few days, and some weird mix of worry swirls in his stomach.
Were you avoiding him? He wouldnât blame you if you were, but he feels guilty for thinking that way. You wouldnât let something personal get in the way of your work, Minghao knows that for sure.
Still, he bites his tongue when he briefly considers asking Jeonghan where you are. Would that be overstepping? Itâs not like there havenât been sessions where you werenât there, but something about the thickness in the air around him tells Minghao that thereâs something he should be worried about.
As if he could read Minghaoâs mind, Jeonghan speaks up. âDocâll come in around the end. Itâs her momâs birthday so sheâs out for most of the afternoon, but sheâll be back for the last half an hour,â he says casually, not really expecting to turn around to see Minghao looking at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
âH-herââ Her mom? Minghao wants to ask but something stops him from saying it. Maybe itâs the fact that youâre not here. Something feels wrong. âThatâs fine,â he mutters, pursing his lips before looking at the ground.
He can feel Jeonghanâs curious gaze burning into the back of his skull, but Minghao only doesnât move as he keeps quiet. They soon fall into the regular pattern of starting off with mobility exercises before doing a check of his range of movement.
Itâs nearing the final hour of his session when Jeonghan excuses himself for a moment. Only two minutes passes before thereâs a knock at the door, and then some footsteps leading in.
âGood afternoon Minghao,â you greet softly upon walking in. The man glances up at you, eyes widening when he takes in your figure.
âOhâuh, hey.â
Minghao wants to bash his head into the wall. Hey? Seriously? Thatâs all he could muster up? Hey?
âJeonghan gave me the rundown,â you tell him, looking away as you lift a clipboard and squint to read the tiny text. âNo more sharp pains ⌠returning mobilily âŚâ
You hum slowly as you read off the notes your assistant left for you, not meeting Minghaoâs gaze. He wonders if thatâs what you intended. âSeeing as things are going smoothly for now, weâll continue with the low-risk exercises andââ
âIâm sorry,â Minghao blurts out. He wonders what compels him to do it, but when you finally meet his gaze, he realizes that he just wanted you to look at him.
âMiââ
âIâm sorry for how I acted last time. I shouldnât have said that stuff to you. I was frustrated and took it out on you, and that wasnât okay. Iâm sorry.â
Your lips are pursed by the time Minghao is finished. Heâs said enough, but when he peers up at you, his eyes speak a story of their own.
âItâs okay,â you respond with no hesitation, before turning back to your clipboard, scanning over it a few more times and then setting it down.
You smooth your hands over your lab coat, and for a moment Minghao wonders what it would feel like to have your palms run down his neck, pressing into his skin so gently yet with such fervor, fingertips ghosting overâ
Minghao shouldnât think like this.
âJeonghan told me that itâs your momâs birthday,â he finally breaks the silence. Itâs the first time either of you have actually brought it up, and the reality of it allâfuck, itâs hitting you so hard that thereâs already tears pooling in yout lashline.
You silently curse yourself for forgetting to tell Jeonghan not to tell Minghao anything. Itâs okay, it isnât like he knew any better, you tell yourself as you blink rapidly, trying to shoo away the tears.
âMhm,â you hum, hoping he doesnât probe any deeper. You arenât sure what you should say.
Youâre silent, and Minghao itches to reach forward, to rest his hand on your shoulder, to smile at you, to say all the things heâs been thinking about you but he just canât. All he can manage is to clear his throat, causing you to look up at him expectantly.
Fuck, what should he say? âIâm umâIâm glad. Glad that sheâs uhâthat everything worked out.â Thatâs fine, right? Thereâs nothing wrong with that statement, Minghaoâs almost sure of it so ⌠so why in the world are you crying?
Shoot, did he fuck up? Youâre sitting in the chair right next to him, head in your hands as you cover your face and turn away; your cries are soft but just loud enough for Minghao to hear over the rush in his ears, just loud enough for him to feel the ache, just loud enough for him to get the message.
Oh.
The first time you meet Xu Minghao, youâre in middle school. Seventh grade and walking into Algebra, going to sit down on your regular seat. Five minutes into class and a new boy walks into the room, handing your teacher a slip before being directed to sit down at a spot a few tables over.
Heâs got short, dark hair, cat-like eyes, and a bit of tall, lanky figure as he slinks down into the chair. Your teacher claps her hands together and announces that thereâs a new student in class. His nameâs âXu Minghao,â she said.
You donât really remember his name at first. It isnât uncommon for there to be new students on campus. Heâs not in many of your other classes you realize as the day goes on, and so he slips your mind. Maybe you work with him for a few assignments throughout the year, but not enough for you to wave at each other when you pass the other in the hallways.
Five years later and youâre in your final year of high school. Time has passed, you have changed, Xu Minghao has changed, but what remains the same is what you are to each other. Strangers.
Youâre paired with a stranger for your final senior Literature project.
âDo you want to write a paper, or do the poster?â you ask as he sits down next to you once the pairing assignments. Your teacher had given you two options on how to go about the project. âI donât really mind either or,â you admit.
Minghao hums, setting his copy of Macbeth on the table before turning to you. âPoster? I think Iâve done enough writing in this past year to last me a lifetime,â he tells you with an obvious sigh.
âYeah,â you laugh. âWere you in Biology?â
He nods. âRegretfully.â
âOh so you also had to write that whole research paper. Damn, that thing had to have shaved at least ten years off my life.â
âDitto,â Minghao grumbles, running his hands over his face. âOh god, just thinking about it is making me queasy. Iâm so happy weâre in our final semester.â
âSo we agree on no paper, just the poster?â you finalize.
Minghao agrees, âYeah, thatâs great.â
One week later and Minghao is at your doorstep. âCool set up,â he notes, stepping into your room, looking down at the poster splayed out with markers all over.
You grin. âThanksâI kind of like being artsy and stuff sometimes so I was pretty happy to do this when you said you also wanted to do the poster.â
âSeems like I made a good choice then,â he replies, sitting down on the opposite end of the poster and pulling out a notebook and his book. âI did some work and got a bunch of lines that we could use as citations in different parts.â
âThatâs great,â you say, picking a pen. âLetâs get started then?â
You two get straight to work, and all goes smoothly. Minghao is a good worker, youâve noticed. His friends are quite funâyouâve seen him with them in the hallways sometimesâbut you start to realize that Minghao doesnât let himself sacrifice his work ethic for fun.
You make quite some progress over the next hour or two, and youâre just about to bring up one of your ideas. âSo over here, I was thinking we could write out the context of the play and thenââ Youâre cut off by the voice of your older brother at your door. Heâs looking down at his phone with his lips pressed into a tight line as he speaks.
âMomâs starting another cycle of chemo this Thursday soâoh, sorry,â Beomgyu says quickly upon looking up and seeing you have a visitor. âCome to my room when youâre done,â he mutters before turning on his heel.
The silence that envelopes your room is deafening.
You donât say a word as you take a deep breath and pick up a different colored marker. You clear your throat. âSo back to what I was saying âŚâ
The next time you work on the poster, itâs at Minghaoâs house.
You wear a blue gown at graduation. Itâs a sunny day in June, and youâre sweating a little through the silk fabric, but itâs okay.
Your father and Beomgyu are there in the stands, but your eyes canât help but be pulled to the empty seat next to them. Your mother said sheâd try to make it, but broke the news last night that it was a dream too high up to reach.
Itâs okay, you had told her, but as you clutch your diploma close to your heart, all you can think is, no itâs not, no itâs not, no itâs fucking not.
You sit through the rest of the ceremony with a silence and all around you, you see your peersâ smiling faces, the encouraging words of the dean, the cheers of the crowds, and somehow you feel so lost in it all. When youâre finally dismissed, everyone claps and revels once more, but somehow you canât find the voice in your throat to join them.
Slipping through the crowds of people who line up to take pictures with their friends, family, and all the sort, you slip out of the small stadium and into some hallway.
âFuck!â you finally cry out, raising your hand up and whipping it forward towards the brick wall. You wince, bracing yourself for the pain, but the sting never comes. Something warm envelopes your wrist, and when you finally blink your eyes open, you see a stranger.
âI donât understand what youâre going through,â Minghao finally says. âI wonât pretend I do either, but itâll be okay.â He hugs you and your face is pressed into Minghaoâs own blue gown that is about to turn a few shades darker.
You cry. You cry harder than you think youâve ever cried before.
You donât know what it is about the way he speaks. Maybe itâs the way he holds you. Maybe itâs the way he smells. Maybe itâs everything, but whatever it is or isnât, you donât stop crying and for a gracing moment, you bask in catharsis.
And then, you hear Beomgyuâs voice calling for you from a nearby hallway, so you pull back. Minghao presses his lips together and lets you go, hands dropping to the side as you wipe away the tears. Thereâs a darker blue splotch in the middle of his chest, but he says nothing of it.
You donât say a word as you step backâthe only communication you share is a nod, but you swear on every last star in the sky that he has said more words to you in that moment than anyone has told you in your entire lifetime.
You donât see Minghaoâs face until itâs seven years later and heâs plastered on the screen as SECTORâs newest recruit. Heâs got phenomenal potential as an F1 racerâgreatest new talent in a whileâyou hear the host of the channel say, but as you look at his picture on the screen, all you see is the face of a stranger whoâs held you tighter than anyone before.
The last time you saw Minghao, it was through tear-blurred vision as you scurried out of Room Câyou had to tell Jeonghan through broken sniffles to wrap up the session with Minghaoâthat the weight of the day had gotten to your head and that you needed to take a breather.
It wasnât entirely a lie. You retreated to your office soon after, staring at the photo of you and your mother that sat at the corner of your table, and then you cried a little more.
Itâs the next day when youâre back in the office. Two patients had just finished up, and youâre sitting in your office, filing through some emails when you hear the familiar ringing of the front door opening. You furrow your eyebrows to yourself, not recalling having any other patients scheduled for at least another two hours.
Had Jeonghan and Seungkwan taken their break earlier than you thought? No, that canât be possible because they always let you know when theyâre heading out andâ
âDoc!â you hear Seungkwanâs voice call out to you from down the hall. âCould you come here for a secâ?â
Frowning, you close your laptop and stand up, walking out the doorway and down the hallway towards the front entrance of the clinic. âWhat is iâoh.â The question dies on your tongue when you see Minghao standing in the reception.
Something in your stomach churns at the sight of himâeyes slightly blown out, lips parted but somehow curved downward in a way that has your own lips frowning. The events of the past few days crashes down on you, and you bite down on your bottom lips in hopes that itâll ground you in reality.
Seungkwan stands behind the main desk, looking at you with some sort of awry expression, and you catch Jeonghan coming down from the other hallway to catch the odd situation. Minghao doesnât seem to mind though, eyes zoning in on you.
âI need to talk to you,â he says. You feel Seungkwan and Jeonghanâs gazes burn into the back of your skull.
Glancing at them, you point to the door. âYou guys can take your lunch break now,â you tell them before turning your attention to Minghao. âLetâs go to Room C?â
He follows you in an instant, slipping into the seat that he always does as you close the door behind you and walking up to stand in front of him.
You can hear the words already coming together on his tongueâIâm sorryâand so you open your mouth before Minghao can even say it.
âIâm sorry,â you say, breaking the silence. âI shouldnât have stormed out like that.â
âNo, IâI shouldnât have said anything. I had no idea youââ Minghao stops himself. He doesnât know how much is too much.
Itâs funny; Minghaoâs whole career is about being in the driverâs seat but somehow when it comes to you, he doesnât know when to press on the gas or hit the brake.
âI havenât stopped thinking about you,â he says. âI havenât stopped thinking about you since graduation.â
âMe too,â you respond in an instant. âI see so much of myself in you,â you tell him.
âLet me be the judge of that, yeah?â you cut him off with a small smile and through tears, cupping his face. The skin over his cheek bones are soft when you run your thumbs over them. âWhen everything is going wrong and youâre so angry, and youâre blaming all the wrong people but you canât help it, and it makes you feel worse and there isnât a thing you can do about it.â
âYeah.â
You inhale steadily, feeling hot water meet your hands and trickle down to your wrists. Minghao is crying, and suddenly you are hit with waves of deja vu. âI get it, okay?â you tell him, even though you know that Minghao already knows. You get it better than anyone. âItâll be okay.â
The echo of his words from all those years ago crashes down on you, and suddenly Minghao pulls your arms down causing you to hunch over so your face is right in front of his.
âIâve thought about you everyday since then.â The words come out of your mouth in a soft whisper. âEven when she passed away a few months later.â
âFuck, Iâm sorry,â he mutters, eyes closing and head titling forward so that your foreheads press against each other. âIâm so sorry.â
âItâs okay,â you tell him, stroking his cheek. âYou donât have to be sorryâyou were right. Everythingâs okay. Everythingâs okay.â
âIâIâm sorry, I justââ
Something about the way Minghao says the word sorry not from his throat, but from his stomach, has your mind twisting in ways that you canât comprehend. The sound is so guttural and heart-wrenching, and this time you want to cry because heâs got nothing to be sorry for. Not a thing.
And so you kiss him.
You kiss Minghao because he is no longer a stranger. Because he is crying for you and you might as well cry for him. Cry for him, but you have done enough crying to last you a lifetime and so you kiss him instead, because they speak the same words: I love you.
And his lips are soft, his tongue warm, his hand ghosting over your arm is gentle, and you can hear it. You hear it in the way he moves against youâhe understands and you want to cry again because heâs always understood, and so you donât cry but only kiss him deeper.
âI made you something,â he admits. âItâs in the car.â
Youâre thankful you sent your two coworkers out when you did, sparring all four of you the awkwardness when you and Minghao slip out of Room C and out the clinic towards the parking lot and to his car.
He pulls a blanket out from the passenger seat. Itâs hardly big enough to cover your lower half but itâs bright and blue and warm, and somehow you feel your eyes well up with tears that you canât seem to stop this time.
âDid youâdid you make this?â you choke out as Minghao stands in front of you, handing the cloth over as you run your palms over the loose threads and yarn that poke through.
âCrocheted it myself,â he tells you, standing from a couple inches above, as you marvel over his work. Minghao thinks heâs done a poor jobâyou could probably do betterâbut you clutch the blanket with such vigor that he doesnât have the heart to tell you. âYouâve helped me so much,â he says instead.
âFuck,â you mutter over harsh breaths. âY-you made this.â
âYou taught me,â he corrects, and thatâs when the dam breaks.
And this time Minghao hugs you, and you can tell heâs being careful about his neck and in all your frenzy you almost want to push him away and say, âDonât move so much!â but then his arms fold in on you like a blanket of their own and you crumble.
You crumble into happiness because through everything youâve ever been through, Minghao still holds you tighter than one holds onto life itself.
âI donât think I can come here on Sunday next week,â you tell your boyfriend as you peer down at your phone. Youâre leaning over his kitchen counter going between looking at some emails and glancing at the screen.
Minghao groans, and you bite back a smile. âAre you serious? Why?â
âYes Iâm serious,â you huff, rolling your eyes playfully. âMy brotherâs visiting town for a bit.â
âAnd I canât meet him, why?â Minghao asks with a raised brow.
You laugh. âGood point. I havenât told him Iâm dating yet though. Might be too big of a ball drop if I tell him I have a boyfriend right away. A boyfriend whoâs SECTORâs best racer, might I add,â you say, pouring yourself a glass of water from the fridge before joining Minghao on the couch.
âIt would be a good surprise though, right?â he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
âYeah yeah, whatever floats your boat,â you shoot sarcastically. âBut seriously. Iâll see if I can get you two to meet, but I really canât see you on Sunday. I have to pick Beomgyu up from the airport.â
âGot it,â Minghao agrees, shuffling closer to you as you both focus on the TV. A live interview with Kim Mingyu plays on the screen, the young man talking about his recent rise in recognition. You two sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Minghao speaks up.
âI fucking hate not being able to do anything,â he groans, shifting onto your shoulder slightly. His conditionâs gotten exponentially better in past couple of weeks, but you instructed for him to wait at least two more weeks before fully getting back to training.
Heâs been restless ever since, youâve started to notice. âDo I really need to wait?â he mutters, lips close to your ear as you cuddle into his embrace.
You pull back slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. âYes! I told youâitâs a part of the process.â
âFuck the process, I wanna drive again!â
âToo bad I guess,â you say with a shrug, turning your attention to the TV. The channel moves on from the interview to talk about some updates, and eventually somewhere in the mix, Minghaoâs name comes up, and you hear the man next to you curse under his breath.
Chewing on your tongue, you debate for a few moments on what to do before reaching for the remote to shut the TV off.
âHey! I was watching thââ
âDo you ever stop complaining?â you huff, stepping out of his embrace much to Minghaoâs dismay. âStop moving,â you order him, sliding down onto your knees in front of his legs.
âWhat are you doâoh.â You hear the words dry on his tongue when you nudge your body between his thighs, inching closer to his groin.
âYouâre so restless,â you hum, trailing your fingers from his knees, over his thighs, and finally let the ghost over the growing tent under his sweatpants. âLet me take care of you, yeah?â you suggest, toying with the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.
âO-okay,â Minghao agrees, and you grin at the way you see his cheeks flush pink when you inch the fabric off of his pants. His cock springs out, hardening under your gaze as it slaps against his lower adobe thatâs still covered by his shirt.
You think for a moment to help Minghao out of his shirt too, but with the pretty pearl of precum dribbling off his slit, veins pressing up all against the length of his cockâall of him aching just for youâyou start to feel your mouth water, forgetting about anything that isnât having Minghaoâs cock in your mouth.
âCareful with the right arm, âkay?â you tell him, a sly smirk tugging at your lips when you bring them down, dragging them over the base of his length all the way up to the glossy tip where you place a wet kiss.
âY-yeahâfuck baby,â Minghao grunts when you envelope your lips around his throbbing tip, tongue swirling over the slit at the top as you do so. His left arm makes its way into your hair, fingers digging into your scalp when you pull back to take a deep breath.
Saliva drips down the corner of your lips, and as you look up at Minghao with wide, glossy eyes, he thinks he might bust in on the spot. âGo on baby,â he murmurs, using his firm grip on your head to nudge your lips closer to his pink tip. âPut it in âŚâ he instructs, and when you grin and open your lips wide once more, Minghao knows heâs too far gone to be saved.
âYouâre so hard Hao,â you whisper against him, tongue tracing constellations over the base of his cock when you reach to cup his balls, massaging them under your palms.
âFuck, just like that baby,â Minghao moans, and the sound is so guttural it has your own pussy clenching around nothing. Your skin burns when you take him into your mouth again, cock sliding further down your mouth than before.
Heâs so thick, and you feel every last curve of his cock, every last vein, against your cheeks, pressing against your tongueâMinghao is all you can taste, and you might go drunk on the sensation alone.
And he isnât faring quite well above you eitherâhis hand in your hair has got a firm hold but if anything, Minghao is losing touch with reality. Your mouth is so soft and so warm, your tongue so meticulous with the way itâs swirling around his tip when you slip off his cock before pushing your mouth back down on himâheâs going fucking crazy.
âBabyâoh baby,â the words rumble at the base of his chest, egging you on. With every bob of your head, you start to take him down further until his fat tip is battering against the back of your throat and yeah, itâs got tears pricking at the corners of your eyes but heâs moaning and grunting and squirming all for you and you just canât seem to fucking stop.
âShit, shit, shitâbaby, âm gonna cum if you keep doing that,â he warns when you deep throat all of him, your nose nearly pressing against his pelvis as you press your eyes tight and revel in the sound of his moans, the feeling of his hands in your hair.
You take his slice of warning as a token of advice, pulling back for only a breath before attempting to do the same thing again, shoving his cock into your mouth and down your throat, rubbing whatever you canât with your palms as wetness smears all over your lips and cheeks.
âOhâfuck, Iâmââ
When Minghao cums, itâs with his chest singing your name. Breathy moansâcalls for youâas you suck him through the high, hot white painting the inside of your cheeks and tongue. You pant heavily when you finally pull yourself off of him, swallowing all that is left of him in your mouth, and then he looks at you with flushed cheeks and you both grin.
And when you climb up, Minghao hugs you. He hugs you like a blanketâlike the blanket he made you, the blanket you taught him to makeâand you two bask in this moment because Minghao is no longer stranger, but he is here and he is in your arms and you are in is, and there isnât any other place youâd rather be.
a/n: mika ramble time! whatever demonic sickness has been haunting me for the past 5 days will NOT get the best of me. i have been aching to get this fic out since like september and it was initially supposed to be posted on hubbie's bday but :/ unfortunately i was a bit late bc life gets in the way ;c overall i'm really happy w it! personally, i think this is among the most emotional fics i've written, and i am extremely proud of myself for some parts of this so !! yea !! if u enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it, pls feel free to leave comments / reblogs >_< they mean the world to me ^^
in which: someone wants you eliminate you from this world, and they hire seonghwa to do it.
pair: assassin!seonghwa/afab!reader
word count: 4k
content: angst, smut, bedroom sex, suspense, murder, seonghwa kinda being a sleazebag, plot twists?, completely consensual (sex)!
author's note: i listened to devil by wonho while writing this, but when arriba comes out, listen to that and read this. also... just know that i am truly very extremely horribly completely sorry for what i have done. (update: after listening to arriba... devil fits better oop)
tag list: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis
message me if you would like to be added to the list
part one | part two
Seonghwa was the devil. Well, technically, he was human, but he was definitely not an angel. He was smooth, suave, sexy. He was manipulative, having a way with words like no other, and he was cunning, adjusting his plan to fit whatever situation he was in better. Above all, he was dedicated to his career. You could consider him to be Jason Bourneâ a ruthless assassin hired by the powerful and feared by most, except he had all his memories and knew exactly what he was doing, and the number one thing that drove him to do what he did was money. Seonghwa was all about that money.
âAh, Mr. Park. Come, Iâve been expecting you,â Seonghwaâs client greeted him as he entered the office.
Seonghwa looked around. It was a nice office with a stellar view of the city and high end furniture, bookshelves spread across the wallsâ the office of a corporate lawyer. Seonghwa started doing the calculations on his head on how much money he could milk out of this client.
âPlease, have a seat,â the man gestured to the arm chair across from his desk with a smile on his face.
Seonghwa took his seat, crossing his slender legs and leaning back in the chair to make himself comfortable. âSo, Mr. Song,â he said with a quiet voice. âWhoâs the target?â
Mr. Songâs smile slightly fell, completely taken aback by Seonghwaâs no-shit attitude. Seonghwa was a man who liked to get straight to the point because time was money, and he liked to get through targets quickly.
âThis woman, Y/N,â Mr. Song scattered a bunch of photographs on his desk. Seonghwa picked up one of the photos and looked at it as the lawyer continued, âShe caught me burying evidence to manipulate a case, and she threatened me that she was going to do more digging and find all the cases I manipulated. I donât want or need that to happen. Get rid of her.â
Seonghwa looked at the photograph with a straight face, but his heart couldnât deny itâ he was definitely attracted to you, and just through a piece of paper no less. He slightly worried for his sanity upon seeing you in person, but that was a later problem. Right now, he needed more information.
âAlright. Do you need me to follow her around orââ
âNo need. Sheâs going to be at a party tonight for the opening of a new firm. Do it then. I need her gone as soon as possible.â
âOkay, Mr. Song, thatâs going to cost you a bit of money for the lack of proper noticeââ
âI donât give a fuck. Iâll give you all the money you want, just fucking do it.â
A slight smirk appeared on Seonghwaâs face. He gestured for the man to give him a pen and post-it note, scribbled an amount on there, and passed it to the lawyer.
âIâll have my secretary transfer this to you immediately.â
Mr. Song really wasnât kidding when he said heâd give Seonghwa all the money he wantedâ he wrote down six-figures as a joke, but he wasnât going to say no to free money. He stood up and held his hand out for the lawyer to shake.
âYouâve got yourself a deal, Mr. Song.â
âGreat. Along with the transfer, my secretary will send you a copy of the invitation for tonightâs party. I would like you to get there before she does, then rid of her however you please.â
âY/N! You should leave your firm and come work with me,â a man said cheerily to you upon seeing you.
âNo thanks, Wooyoung,â you responded with a pleasant smile. âI love you and Yunho, but my last name plus Jung and Jeong would not be as cute.â
âIf itâs the aesthetic thatâs holding you back, then we can just get rid of him,â Yunho appeared by your side the second you mentioned his name. âWeâll be Jeong andââ
âNope! My name comes first. Ladies first, after all.â
You laughed alongside the managing partners from other firms that had been invited to that nightâs partyâ you knew most if not all of the managing partners and got along with most of them pretty well. There was one man in particular, though, that you were not keen on seeing.
âLooking for me, babe?â
You felt a hand slide along the exposed skin on your back, only for that arm to hug your waist and bring you close. Just from the first touch, you knew exactly who it was.
âLook at you in this dress⌠This backless, tight, sexy, white dress,â he whispered in your ear. âYou look just like an angel. I could just eat you up, Y/N.â
âIn your dreams, San,â you pushed the man away, your palm in his face.
âAlso, whatâre you doing in your free time eating angels?â Yunho questioned San.
âEver heard of Angel Food Cake, dumbass?â
âSo Iâm a cake nowâŚâ
âOh yeah, totally babes,â San returned right to your side and brushed his nose past your jawline. âYour ass in that dress? Double cheeked up on aââ
âJongho! Can you get your horny managing partner out of here?â Wooyoung complained loudly as he locked eyes with the man, Jongho.
âSan, I swear to God, Iâm going to change our firm name from Choi and Choi to just Choi if you donât leave that poor woman alone,â Jongho said with a heavy sigh.
âYouâll leave the firm?â San asked.
âShut the fuck up,â Jongho pinched Sanâs ear and tugged him away. âWeâll be in the corner learning manners if you need us!â
You, Wooyoung, and Yunho all waved goodbye to the bickering firm partners, and your eyes returned to scanning the crowd. Little did you know that there was a certain someone keeping his eye on you, waiting for the perfect chance to introduce himself as you looked around the room to avoid the lawyer you had major issues with.
âWho are you looking for?â Wooyoung asked you, picking up on your silence.
âOh, uh, no one reallyâŚâ you answered trying not to divulge any information.
Before Wooyoung could press further, you heard a deep voice say from afar, âWooyoung! There you are! Oh, and Yunho? Perfect!â
âHi, Attorney Kang,â you greeted Yeosang with a wide grin when the man arrived at your little group.
âHello to you too, Y/N,â Yeosang responded with a wink, intentionally using your first name to subtly flirt with you. âWould you mind if I stole these two jackasses from you?â
âJackasses?!â Wooyoung and Yunho chorused.
âBy all means.â
You laughed as you watched both Wooyoungâs face and Yunhoâs face go from shocked to betrayed, and before they could say anything to you, Yeosang was already dragging them away with his immense power.
And so, you stood at the standing table alone, looking over your shoulder so you wouldnât see Attorney Song or his firm partner, Kim Hongjoong, anywhere. In fact, you were so distracted, that you didnât realize someone had joined you at the table.
âWhatâs a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a place like this? What if a disgusting senior partner tried to pull moves on you?â the person asked.
âArenât you the disââ you turned to tell the guy off, only to immediately bite your tongueâ there was no way in hell you were going to be able to call this man disgusting when he was drop dead gorgeous to the point where he was practically sparkling (making you wonder how you missed his presence in the first place).
âArenât I what?â he asked, amusement laced in his question.
âI thought you were someone elseâŚâ
âLike who?â
âWell, one of those disgusting lawyers you were talking about⌠But you definitely are not one of them.â
âNo, I am not, angel.â
Along with the nickname, he smiled at you in what you could only describe as genuine and sweet, like he truly wanted to get to know you, and you were drawn to him instantly like a moth to a flame. You held your hand out for him and said, âY/N.â
Instead of shaking your hand, he completely took you by surprise when he took your hand and left a light kiss on the back of your hand. Your face got hot instantly when he looked up at you with the most incredible sexy and yet soft eyes.
âSeonghwa.â
Not to sound like an absolute sleazebag, but female targets were always so easy for Seonghwaâ just give them a few compliments and make them feel like the only girl in the world, and sheâs in bed with you in two seconds flat. Also, it helped that he was an attractive man, but regardless, it was that easy for him.
Things with you, however, were different. The compliments Seonghwa fed you were not canned responses that he had at his disposal. They were legitimate. The attraction he felt for you carried from the photographs he saw earlier that day to the real you, and he was truly smitten. Of course, you didnât know that. All you knew was that this stranger was oddly comfortable and made you want to let down your hair and go wild.
âTell me the truth, angel,â Seonghwa said to you in a hushed voice as the two of you stood outside the banquet hall against a railing and under the starry sky. âWhat made you decide on wearing this dress?â
âWhat, this old thing?â you giggled. âItâs always fun to make the male lawyers ogle, especially the older ones when theyâre with their wives.â
âWell, yes, you can do that with this dress, but you can do that with other dresses too. For instanceâŚâ
Seonghwaâs fingertips crawled over your exposed waist and to the small of your back, then he trailed a finger up your spine, your back arching and bringing you closer to the railing. You had to stifle a moan the further up your back his finger went.
âYou went with a dress thatâs shows off the beautiful curves of your waist and is fully revealing in the back,â Seonghwaâs lips were right next to your ear, his hot breath making you flush. He then turned you so that you faced him and continued, âBut conservative in the front⌠When you couldâve found a dress that further enhanced your body. One where the neck line goes from hereââ
He traced a line from the middle of your neck down to the space right in between your breasts. ââto here. And one without full length sleevesâŚâ
His fingers tiptoed along your arm from your wrist to your shoulder, his hand then resting on the back of your head. He planted his fingers in the roots of your hair and yanked back roughly, but not painfully, sending tingles down your arms and legs. With his free hand, he hugged your waist and brought you close, your hands automatically holding onto his shoulders. You held your breath as he brought his face close to yoursâ you automatically shut your eyes thinking he was going to kiss you, but instead he brought his lips back to your ear and said, âHowever, Iâd prefer if you wore nothing. I think other men would too.â
A hint of a smirk lingered on his face as he leaned back to look at your flustered face. You audibly gulped upon seeing the manâs eyes darken. His firm grasp of your hair loosened slightly, but you didnât want his hand going anywhere. You placed your hand over his and held it while pushing yourself further into him.
âIf thatâs the case, then I can make that happen for you.â
âOh yeah?â
Seonghwa held you tighter, his hand rooted in your hair once more. You had one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his shoulder as you gazed into his intense eyes waiting for him to make a move, any move.
âYeah,â you responded with a nod.
His lips brushed past yours as he responded, âLetâs make it happen then, angel.â
With that, Seonghwa pressed his incredibly posh, ruby lips against yours, electricity running through your entire body. You felt your stomach flip and your pussy heat up the more intensely he kissed you, and fireworks erupted all throughout your body when you felt his hand move from your waist to your breast, only for the man to immediately smile against your lips.
âAh, I was wondering if you were wearing pasties or not,â he snickered. âYou went fully commando tonight, huh?â
âAnything for the dress.â
The second Seonghwa brought you to his place, he tore his suit jacket off, bent you over the kitchen countertop, and pulled the length of your dress up and over your ass, the material bunched up in his fist; and since you had gone commando, the first thing he did was kneel and run his tongue along your folds. Your legs trembled and struggled to keep you upright even with the added assistance of Seonghwaâs firm hands clenching your thighs then ass.
You gasped and looked up to the ceiling as you felt Seonghwaâs insane tongue flick your clit rapidly, waves of pleasure rushing over you one after the other. You were gripping onto the countertop with all of your might, your knuckles just as white as your dress by that point. He continued to suck and slurp your sweet arousal fluid, the noises of him just eating you out enough to send you spiraling.
âOh, angelâŚâ Seonghwa suddenly pulled away from you when he saw your grip on the countertop (and reality) loosen. âYou donât get to cum yet.â
âW-what do you mean?â you panted and blinked tears out of your eyes while attempting to turn and look at him.
Seonghwa stood up and unbuckled his belt. The belt fell to the ground, and moments later, he had slid his pants and briefs down just enough to release his throbbing, impatient cock. He immediately brought the tip to rub up and down your folds, one hand guiding his dick while the other worked on unbuttoning his dress shirt.
âYou only get to cum when I say you can,â Seonghwa said roughly, his low voice turning you on even moreâ which you didnât think was even possible at that point.
âPlease, Seonghwa⌠Iâm so closeâŚâ you whined.
You heard him tear open a condom packet. Seonghwa rolled the condom on, and seconds after teasing you and rubbing the head along your folds, he pushed his way into your dripping pussy, sending your waist into the marble counter. You thought that the impact was going to hurt, but it didnât, and it was because Seonghwa was holding your waist and bringing you towards him as he thrust into you, making his thrusts twice as strong.
âUgh, Y/N. Youâre so tightâ my dick is going to explode,â the man groaned, his lovely voice echoing in your ear.
Then, he changed the angle he was thrusting at. His cock brushed past your G-spot a couple times before stars fill your vision.
âOh, oh, oh God, Seonghwa! Please, I wanna cum,â you begged him with a sob as you held back your orgasm to the best of your ability. âLet me cum. I want to cum so bad. Please, please, please.â
Hearing you beg and cry for him to let you finish excited him. He bent over and licked your back before whispering, âGo ahead, angel. Cum for me.â
You cried out and gripped the countertop as your legs and torso shook while you came. And, while you came, you clenched so hard that Seonghwa creamed as well, completely filling up the condom he had just rolled on. You heard him swear loudly, the profanity followed by a very sexually arousing groan.
âFuck, you really did make my dick explode,â Seonghwa let out a light laugh as he pulled out.
While Seonghwa threw the used condom away, you sank to the floor, your legs completely giving out. You were panting and blinking tears out of your eyes as you stared right at the ground, unable to look up in fear of seeing the gorgeous man who just fucked you to heaven and back. Yet, you were forced to look at him when he scooped you off the ground and carried you bridal style into his bedroom.
âHwa,â you said breathlessly the second you spotted his bed. âWait, I canâtââ
âDonât give up on me yet, angel. Weâre just getting started.â
Along with his body weight, Seonghwa laid you down on his bed and immediately locked lips with you. You felt like you couldnât breathe when he shoved his tongue down your throat and groped various erogenous zones on your bare body. You writhed under his touch, your cunt getting wetter and more sensitive.
Seeing you completely wrecked and desperate turned Seonghwa on to the max. He honestly wished he could fuck you to deathâ what a great ending that would be. Alas, that was not going to happen, so he just had to enjoy you as much as he could before finishing the job. He pushed himself up, rolled on another condom, and quickly thrust into you. Your back immediately arched, and a crying moan immediately left your lips.
âSeonghwa!â you cried as you felt him shoot through you with every thrust. âS-slow down!â
âSorry, angel,â Seonghwa sighed out erotically. âI canât stop. Youâ Ughâ You feel so good.â
You continued to let out loud cries as Seonghwa continued fucking you fast and hard to the point where you could hear the bedsprings squeaks even through the sound of blood rushing to your ears. The intensity of his love-making only increased when he moved your legs so that they were resting on his shoulders, his upper body pressing into you and folding you like a pretzel; yet, you loved it. You wanted him to abuse you further.
âSeongâ Anghâ Hwa!â you cried as you flung your head back.
âYou like that, angel? You like it when I fuck you like this?â
âYe-es! Oh, God! H-harder!â
âHarder?! You were just telling me to slow down, now you want me to fuck you harder?â Seonghwa asked you with shock, amusement hidden in his words.
âMmhmmâ Hnnghâ D-deeper, too!â
Seonghwa wanted to laugh. He did as you asked while suppressing his amusement, sitting up and bringing you with him. He knelt on the bed and had you sitting on his lap to ride himâ well, you werenât riding so much as he was lifting and dropping your ass on his dick repeatedly. You clung to his shoulders and ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head, gripping and pulling whenever you felt his cock nearly reach your cervix. Your breathy moans echoed in Seonghwaâs ear, turning the man on further. You planted the lightest hickey on his neck, and he fully lost his mind.
âSeonghwa, Iâmâ I wanna cumâŚâ you whimpered, your lips right next to his ear.
âYou wanna cum?â
Seonghwa leaned back, the fire in his eyes blazing, your mind immediately blanking. You could barely keep it together at that point. You nodded fervently while biting your lower lip. In that moment, Seonghwa snapped. He pinned you down on the bed again and thrust at the speed of light, the slaps of his waist hitting your ass filling up the room. His cock finally hit your cervix, and pleasure washed over you. You tensed up and pushed your head into the pillow behind your head, your nails digging into Seonghwaâs arms.
With a final thrust Seonghwa pushed himself deep into you, spurts of thick cum filling the condom. With a deep, pleasureful sigh, Seonghwa dropped his head and caught his breath. Your heart was still racing, and your chest was still moving heavily as you took long breaths when Seonghwa pulled out.
You laid sprawled out on the bed for a solid two minutes. It was at the third minute that you questioned where Seonghwa went in his own home. You sat up in the bed and looked around, still unable to spot the man. You wrapped one of the bedsheets around you and were about to get up and off the bed when Seonghwa returned into the room swiftly, his lower body covered with clothes.
âYou decided to get dressed before helping me?â you asked with a scoff.
âI had to.â
Seonghwaâs words were curt, and his tone was sharp, sending chills down your spine. It was as if in the three minutes he was gone his entire personality flipped. He went from being seductive and romantic to⌠Someone way worse. His eyes were cold and sharp, and there was no longer a smile on his face.
âSeonghwa, whatâs going on?â you asked him carefully.
Your eyes went wide when Seonghwa pulled out a gun from behind him and up for you to see it. Your eyes flitted back and forth from the gun to the man who just fucked you.
âWhat is this?! What the fuck is going on?!â you shrieked.
You tried to move, but your ass and legs were shot to hell by Seonghwaâs cock, leaving you unable to escape him and getting shot to hell by his bullet.
âI was hired to kill you, Y/N,â Seonghwa said softlyâ he technically wasnât supposed to tell you why he was going to kill you but, letâs face it. You were going to die, so itâs not like you could snitch to anyone about it.
âWho?!â
âAttorney Song Mingi. He hired me to murder you. So now, I have to.â
âYou donât have to do anything, Seonghwa! He wants me gone? Iâll get out of the country! I justâ I donât understand!â
Seonghwa remained silent. He checked the bullets in the magazine as you stared at him with your jaw dropped.
âSo, you fucked me⌠And now, youâre going to kill me? All of this just happened, and it meant nothing to you?â
Seonghwa quickly clicked the magazine back into place before looking at you and answering, his voice and face devoid of emotion, âItâs not personal, angel. Itâs business. I have to do my job.â
âNo⌠PleaseâŚâ
You thought about shoving him away and mustering up whatever strength you had in your legs to make a run for it, but you knew that he would shoot you dead regardless. You trembled with fear as he approached you.
âSorry, angel,â he whispered.
Seonghwa cocked the gun and held it right to your temple, the cool metal of the barrel pressing into your skin. You looked up at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down your face. Seonghwaâs resolve flinchedâ He wanted to fuck the shit out of you and make you look like that because of his cock, not because of his gun. Gritting his teeth, he ignored his impulse and tightened his grip on the gun.
âGoodbye, Y/N.â
Seonghwa was wearing a full sleeve turtleneck under his dress shirt the next morning. He self-consciously touched over the fabric the spot on his neck where you left a hickey as he walked into Mr. Song Mingiâs office. He stood by the door and locked eyes with the lawyer.
âIs it done?â
Seonghwa gave him a silent nod.
âGot rid of it?â
âYes.â
Mr. Song walked around his desk and right up to Seonghwa, offering his hand out for the assassin to shake. Seonghwa shook his hand firmly then immediately let go, trying to make sure the man didnât see the bandaids on his arms. With a nod, Seonghwa left the office and walked down the hall while taking out his phone, figuring out the location to meet his next client: Mr. Kim.
âOh, youâre here early, Mr. Park.â
Seonghwa turned around and nearly jumped. Mr. Kim was standing a couple feet behind him with a sober face.
âMr. Kim?â
âYes. Come with me.â
The two walked to Mr. Kimâs office, the door immediately closing behind them. The two sat on couches opposite each other, eyes locked on one another.
Warnings: erotic painting, mentions of masturbation, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), breast/nipple play, dry humping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), cum eating, use of pet names, drinking
Synopsis: You were hired to paint him- not fall for him. But intentions quickly shift when Hyunjin finds himself infatuated with you and learns the secrets you harbor.
[this work was based off a request by âđźâ anon - thank you for requesting!]
18+. Mdni!
â˘
Thereâs something to be said about the loneliness that comes with being an artist. The repetitive cycle of translating tangibility to canvas or paper in whichever chosen medium. Fleeting muses you draw inspiration from, which quickly become burdensome as youâre faced with them every waking second of your day. Obsession with perfecting your craft, the anxieties that come with criticism of your lifeâs work and sometimes even succumbing to changing it entirely at the hands of someone elseâs advice.
Itâs very seldom even your craft at a certain point, only existing to satisfy the visual demands of others and turn a profit when displayed at a show. And itâs certainly not for everyone, not when itâs this lonely and rooted in the discomfort of personal solitude.
*
From this proximity, the blinding white walls that span the perimeter of the waiting room feel like that of a prisonâs- coupled with the glossy laminate flooring and glaring white lights, you feel completely entrapped.
âTheyâre almost ready for you,â your boss says abruptly as he enters the room and occupies the gray folding chair next to you. âYou have everything you need?â
Headcount- your black leather briefcase of oil paints, brushes, charcoal, pencils, paint thinner, old rags and your painting palette.
âThe canvas is already set up,â your boss chimes in as if he can read your mind. âAnd thereâs a seat for you. Just relax, and donât push yourself.â
You take a deep breath, doing your best to follow his advice- but a part of you wants to get up and leave, to run away from all of this. Painting is your passion, itâs your forte and itâs been your lifeâs work for as long as you can remember. But being commissioned like this, for men much richer than money youâll ever see, it feels suffocating.
They donât tell you their names these days, nor the name of whatever organization theyâre from. Last month it was an elite group of stock investors, the month before, it was a famous violinist from Japan. And today, itâs a male group, eight members with net worths that look like telephone numbers, or so youâve been told. And itâs not that youâre intimidated, but you do get self-conscious at the prospect of people watching you while you paint. At some point, itâs like you become the model, their eyes boring into your flesh as you paint long strokes across the canvas and order them to hold still.
âFive minutes,â your boss now says, checking the time on his silver watch and adjusting it so that it sits a little higher up on his wrist.
You wish he wouldnât count the minutes. You wish heâd stay quiet, allow you to sit with your thoughts and ruminate the day ahead of you. And yet he taps his heel in syncopation with the second hand on the clock above you, the echoing click of both driving you up the wall.
âI need a breather,â you state suddenly, sitting up from your chair and smoothing down your smock. âI need to go outside.â
âThree minutes,â he responds sterly, tapping at the glass lens of his watch and motioning to the door.
You shove your way past the double doors, past the white tiled hallway and just in front of the double doors that lead to freedom again. Two minutes.
Itâs like your body is giving out on you involuntarily, your knees buckling as you grip the stair railing and steady your breathing. A quick glance around to ensure no oneâs caught you heaving so nervously- and youâre too late. A man saunters down the hallway past you, his hands shoved casually in his pockets as he cocks his head to stare at you, his long black hair falling loosely around his shoulders as he does. Heâs tall, and slim, with an elongated torso hugged by an expensive denim coat, his slender legs on display in black slacks and complemented by a sharp pair of boots. You donât catch a very good look at his face, his figure blurring by as you check your watch, to the second now- youâre supposed to be inside.
You waste no more time jogging down the hallway past the figure and back into the waiting room, where your boss is angrily tapping his heel and scanning the room for you.
âThere you are,â he says frustratedly. âNo more breaks if you canât manage your time. Theyâre waiting for us.â
And with a deep breath, he helps you gather your art supplies, motioning in front of you to the brightly lit room. You take one breath, and then two, as you finally begin into the painting room, eight men already seated and ready for you.
*
The crowd is nothing like the stock investors, or the violinists youâre used to. Theyâre rowdy, and loud. They very seldom sit still, cracking jokes amongst themselves and shoving each other off the wooden stools every other minute. You do your best to keep your gaze away from them when you donât need to look at them, trying to memorize their features in intervals so you can focus on just the canvas in front of you as you paint. But itâs nearly impossible, their melodic voices pressing you for answers and insights into your artist career.
âWhatâs the hardest painting youâve ever done?â One asks, his baritone voice sounding almost startling in contrast to his bright appearance.
âThereâs lots,â you reply quietly. âIâm not sure I can pick one.â
You give him a small smile, trying to memorize the freckles on his face before turning back to the canvas, hoping you wonât have to glance back over at him for the next minute or so.
âLetâs take five,â your boss says as he enters the room again, two iced coffees balanced in his hands. âThanks, guys.â
And the men scatter to their break room, where neat trays of food are already set out for them to choose from. As the doors swing closed behind them, you watch them select from a variety of pre-cooked noodles, assorted fruits and vegetables, packs of chips and trays upon trays of desserts. Theyâre fed as though theyâre the ones doing all the painting.
âCoffee,â Q says, setting down a plastic cup in front of you, the straw already conveniently placed for you.
âThanks, Quinton.â
Your boss, Quinton, or Q, is a brutally honest man when he wants to be, quick to comment on your work and keep you in your place. He runs your calendar like the military, never missing an important appointment and opting you in for every profitable painting session possible. Heâs another thing you find suffocating at the worst of times, always somewhere breathing commands down your neck and dragging you to every private event under the sun.
âLet me see,â Q states plainly, gesturing to the canvas with his cup of coffee. You shyly angle the canvas toward him, hoping he wonât scrutinize anything about your pacing- youâre trying to get out of here as quickly as possible, and you silently pray the art doesnât reflect that sentiment.
But to your surprise, he doesnât, swiping a few stray eraser shavings off the canvas and giving you a nod.
âLooks good. Remember, we just need the skin tones and facial features. The clothes and all that can be filled in later with our reference pictures.â
You nod in response, taking a generous sip of your coffee, realizing this is probably the worst beverage you couldâve picked to calm your nerves. The caffeine pulsates through you, making your heart flutter even more than it already is, and the bitter taste leaves little to salivate over.
âHow much longer, do you think?â You inquire, chewing on the tip of your straw nervously.
âNo more than an hour, if you keep up this pace,â Q responds. âIâm going to the bathroom real quick, have everything ready again for when I get back. Donât make me wait.â
You watch as he gets up from his own wooden stool, placing his cup of coffee where he sits, and exits the room to the corridor once again.
Youâre alone in the painting room, the white sheets that line the floors staring back at you with little eyes in the form of paint splotches. From behind the door, you can still hear the eight men shuffling about, laughing loudly and downing their snacks. And you want to leave again, the feeling instilling another sense of foreignness inside of you. Like you donât belong here, even though youâre the painter. You feel small, cramped, even useless, as you stare down the painted flesh outlines across from you.
A click of the door closing beside you garners your attention, and you look up expecting Q to return and resume the session. But itâs not Q- itâs the same figure from earlier in the hallway, slowly making his way inside and hoisting himself back up on the wooden stool. He keeps his head down as he gets comfortable again, two hands running through his black hair and slicking it back out of his forehead.
And then he looks at you- or stares, rather, two hands resting on the exposed wood in front of him as his legs balance on the wooden beams below. You can feel his eyes burning into your figure, and you do everything in your power to avert his gaze and keep your eyes locked on the canvas in front of you. But he remains like that, staring, for several minutes, until you nervously tilt your head to catch his gaze.
You feel your heart race as you do, catching a glimpse of his flawless features as he furrows his brows in concentration. His silky black hair isnât the only striking thing about him- he has piercing brown eyes, which narrow with such intensity as he remains seated there, unmoving and confident in his stance. His plump lips contrast beautifully against his chiseled jawline, and his lanky figure makes him look like the contemporary art statues youâre so acquainted with, like heâs formed from wire and positioned to slouch so artistically in his spot.
You say nothing to the man, opting to give him a little nod, before focusing back on the beverage in your hands. And despite his clear fascination with you, he doesnât reciprocate, instead pulling a cell phone out of his back pocket and preoccupying himself again.
You canât quite tell if heâs rude, or strange, or even just unaware that his presence is so uncomfortable when heâs choosing to speak through cold stares instead of words. As you watch him through your peripheral vision, you hear the familiar sound of Qâs boots click through the doorway, gesturing rapidly at you and at the canvas.
âLetâs continue,â he orders, clasping his hands together with such purpose. âWhere are they?â Q then questions, his eyes darting over the quiet manâs indifferent posture. And the strange man finally gets up from his stool, making his way through the break room door to usher the others inside once again.
They follow like a row of ducks, back to their respective seats, some of them with drinks in hand as they share whispered laughter amongst themselves and make little effort to sit still. You have no trouble picking up right where you left off, the innate talent to mirror figures in front of you coming in handy as you race the clock to complete their flesh-colored outlines.
Most of them converse lightly amongst each other, holding your gaze with a more serious expression when they catch you looking over at them.
Except for the strange man.
Heâs relentless in his ways, continuing to stare so impolitely at you, his eyes piercing daggers right through your soul as he cocks his head to the left, and then the right, studying your face as you study all eight of theirs. What his intentions are exactly, you have no clue, simply opting to avert his gaze when you can and keep busy with your painting.
One hour later, the canvas illustrates all eight outlines of flesh and distinctive features, highlighting the beige freckles on one manâs, the toned biceps of another, and all other features that set them apart from each other. True to Qâs reminder, their clothes are traced in outlines, but color is void of their stencils, as you still have to bring the canvas home to complete the finishing touches. When theyâre dismissed for the day, the gentlemen are all led by a sculpted man with a big smile who introduces himself as the leader, orchestrating the bows and applause that are held for you.
And as he ushers them out one by one, the strange man whoâs been watching you all day is the last to leave, lingering a little bit too long with his hands shoved in his pockets like he wants to say something. He loiters by the canvas for several minutes, but you make no move to angle the painting at him, usually maintaining a certain extent of confidentiality in your work to keep the surprise.
He seems to take the hint, almost nodding indirectly at you and more toward the wall, as he finally saunters out of the room with his hands still in his pockets, his strides painfully slow as he disappears from your sight.
And when you look back to the painting, you cock your head at his outline, trying to gauge whether your art properly captures the sheer sense of unnerve he instills in you with his features alone.
*
Painting sessions are burdensome. They require a lot of planning ahead of time, stocking up on supplies, scheduling around the hours-long timeframe and of course, the mental preparation of having to be stared at by rich men for several hours.
But perhaps critique sessions are even worse these days.
Your paintings are typically set in stone after the initial outlines, considering there are usually a few important figures who review your work and give you the go ahead to take it home and finish it.
Yet sometimes, you still have people complaining, pointing out unimportant features like the color of their sneakers which arenât to their liking. Itâs normally Q who fights these battles for you, refusing to allow you to make any changes since the payments are made upfront, too. But sometimes, even he caves, ordering you to pull out your briefcase and mix a darker shade of green or add more volume to the subjectâs hair.
Itâs the worst with investors, who put their audacity at the same level as their incomes. But with boy groups like this, youâre unsure, having never done a painting for a band prior to this one.
The finished canvas is transported in a nylon zip-up bag, held by yourself and Q as you fit it inside the truck and secure it with metal prongs. While the drive there is just an hour long, it feels much longer than the last time you traveled there, perhaps because youâre much more nervous.
And perhaps also, itâs because of the same strange man as last time, who you already know is going to have a mouthful to say. The way he lingered by your work station a little too long, wouldnât stop staring and even excused himself from his own break early to resume his insufferable task of making you uncomfortable. You reckon itâll be a comment about his hair, asking for a longer length or more volume. Maybe something about the stage outfit you were presented with and how it doesnât make his legs look long enough. Or knowing his douchebag tendencies, maybe he wonât hesitate to ask for a fucking bulge in his pants at this point.
When you arrive, Q calls over the building staff to help transport the collosal work of art, while you wait awkwardly on the side with your hands shoved in your pockets. You take a moment to crane your neck and look up at the building, a tall glass monument with blue-tinted windows and cobalt text that displays the company name. Itâs just as intimidating as you remembered it, instilling the same unnerving feeling that a hospital might.
When the building staff are finally making their way inside, you follow reluctantly, making yourself as small as possible behind them while they navigate the long blinding corridors. Itâs an unusual feeling to be at the top floor of the building that you were just looking up at from the street below, and as you pass the windows that line the hallways, you can make out the rows of cars and people that now resemble ants from this high up. Itâs as though you were never down there to begin with, like the world is different from up here, much more secluded and shut-in.
And seeing the pin boards that line the walls, with photos of successful artists and flyers for company events, it very well might be, this haunting building where dreams either go to flourish or decay.
Into the last door on the right, eight chairs lined up for eight artists who definitely seem to have flourished. The building staff set up the canvas at the front of the room, securing it into its wooden easel, and Q occupies himself setting up a recording camera which points directly at the painting and captures all eight chairs in the frame. Itâs common protocol for events like these to be filmed, not always for public consumption, but for the staff to archive important commemorative moments in the artistâs name. Once the camera is rolling, Q gives you a thumbs up, gesturing to the staff to permit their exit as you make your way to the front with him.
âReady?â He asks, clasping his hands together as he eyes the camera nervously. You say nothing in response, giving him a small nod, before taking your spot on the other side of the canvas and folding your hands behind your back.
For a few moments of complete silence, the two of you keep your gazes fixed on the clock that lives on the wall across you, the hands ticking with the passing seconds as you await the arrival of the band. Q turns to say something, seemingly disregarding it as he turns back to the wall and shifts his eyes to the door every few moments.
You wish he wouldnât be so⌠anticipatory. You wish heâd just stand there, like a rock, indicating nothing of importance, so that you could put less weight into this and unveil the painting to them without any reservations.
Hereâs the painting, you want to say. It took me forever, so donât criticize it. You guys are shorter than my usual subjects. Except for the weirdo- and he stares too much.
You smile to yourself at the thought of being so candid with them, before an abrupt push of the door startles you, and you instantly straighten your posture at the sounds of boots clicking along the floor, leading the eight men who live on the canvas behind you.
One by one they take their seats, dressed to the nines this time in black slacks and collared button ups. They even flaunt ties, mirroring the businessmen youâre used to painting, and the fancy attire quickly makes you nervous as they fold their hands in their laps and fail to joke around like they did the last time.
âWelcome,â a booming voice says, as other important looking figures stand around the room and eye the covered canvas. âItâs a pleasure to have you here, and weâre eager to see what youâve come up with.â
Applause fills the room, inclusive of the members of the band, which you finally allow yourself to look at. They sit properly, hands folded in their laps and serious expressions painted on their chiseled faces.
Except for the strange one, again, whose gaze is locked on yours. He cocks an eyebrow curiously, as though youâre the one doing the staring. And you quickly turn your attention back to Q, hoping that disregarding the men will calm your nerves a little.
â⌠sheâs paid particular attention to detail,â Q continues, and you realize youâve missed half his speech already.
âAnd we are so excited to hang her work in this renowned building as a commemorative piece for the members. Without further ado, please letâs unveil the artwork.â
As he finishes, two members of the staff tug on the beige cloth, letting it fall to the tiled floor beneath it and expose the giant portrait.
Their faces light up instantly, little âwoahâsâ filling the room as they rise from their seats to take a better look. They laugh at their own figures, they point out each other's and most of them even pull out their cellphones to snap photos of your art. Itâs always a gratifying feeling, having a crowd admire the fruits of your labor this way, especially when you arenât immediately met with verbal protest against your creative choices.
You take a few steps back to give some room to them, the staff talking amongst themselves and gesturing to the building where you presume they speak about where the painting will live.
âItâs a hit,â Q says, coming around to tap you lightly on the arm. âYou should be very proud of yourself.â
âThanks, Quinton,â you respond. âIâm glad everyone enjoys it.â
And the staff applaud you once more, bowing to you and lining up to shake your hand as they begin to file out of the room again.
The members stick around for a good while, unable to take their eyes off the painting as they point out each other's features and admire their own. And as they begin to leave, several of them thank you personally on the way out, giving you a bow and shaking your hand.
âThank you, really,â the man you remember being the group leader says to you. âWe are so honored to have worked on this with you.â
Another clasps your hand in his, bowing several times before speaking. âSeungmin,â he states his name politely. âThank you, I think you really did our old group leader justice.â
âHey!â The leader calls, and you canât help but laugh a little in response.
The others share similar sentiments, bowing and shaking your hand as they exit, chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they make their way down the hall for their next schedule.
And when you turn to face Q, youâre met with the last member, who folds his arms in front of him coldly and eyes the painting with raised eyebrows.
Like clockwork. He doesnât like it, heâs going to request a change be made to it and heâs going to berate you in front of your own boss.
âItâs nice,â he chimes in casually from where heâs standing.
âThanks,â you reply, Q gathering the cover from the floor and zipping it up again.
âJust one thing,â he says now, turning to face you.
âOh, we normally donât make changes after-â
âI have a freckle under my eye,â he finishes. âThe left eye. You didnât catch it.â
Your eyes scan the painting, where his chiseled face and long hair stare back at you, a serious expression in his eyes like he wears in person. And then you glance at him standing in front of you again, a small brown mole under his left eye, just like he speaks of.
âGo ahead and add it,â Q says, as he zips up the cover. âThat should be on there already.â
And you nod your head at both of them, unzipping your briefcase again to retrieve your paints. Heâs watching you like a hawk again, towering over your bent figure as you pull out a thin tube of brown paint and squeeze just a miniscule dollop onto the back of your hand. You retrieve your thinnest paint brush, dipping it into the paint and swiping it across your skin to rid the excess from the fine hairs.
It feels as though you have to paint it with his permission, as you bring the brush to his face and glance over at him for instruction. He gestures to his eye, motioning for you to start, as you bring the brush to his canvas flesh and tap on a tiny, single dot.
He stares at it for a moment, cocking his head as though a brown dot somehow wonât be to his liking. And even Q holds his breath while he waits for a comment from the man. You begin to say something, your lips parting silently, stuck on what to remark as you await his feedback. And then with bated breath, he finally speaks, giving a small nod as he does.
âGood,â he says simply. âItâs me now.â
Q nods at him, nods at you, and then gathers your belongings as you cap the loose tube of paint.
âDo you have a card?â The man asks suddenly, and Q pauses his shuffling about to retrieve one from his coat pocket.
âHereâs her card,â he says, against your silent protests. âSheâs available for commission any time. Payments are up front and scheduling is through me only.â
The man nods, thumbing the gold foil cardstock in his slender fingers, and then shoves it into the pocket of his slacks.
âHyunjin,â he says curtly, reaching his hand out to yours. âIâm the main dancer.â
And you just nod, placing your hand in his reluctantly as you shake once.
âY/n.â
His hands are cold to the touch, the metal of his rings feeling like blocks of ice in your grasp. He holds it there for a moment, his narrowed eyes shooting daggers into yours, before he finally pulls away and pivots to leave with the rest of the band.
And you can only catch a glimpse of the back of his head when heâs halfway out, before Q turns to speak to you.
âLooks like we may be back very soon,â he remarks, latching your briefcase once more. âIâd hold on to that brown paint if I were you.â
*
Exactly four days pass before you hear from Hyunjin again. In fact, youâve all but forgotten about the little run-in, until Q barges into your studio while you add the finishing touches to another clientâs piece.
âI have a proposal for you,â Q voices, setting an iced coffee on the table beside you while you dip your paintbrush in a muddy cup of water.
âWhat is it?â
âWell financially, a massive opportunity. Career-wise, much of the same thing youâre already doing.â
âBusinessmen?â You question, working your paintbrush in thin strokes to add hair to the figure on the canvas.
âBand,â he replies simply. âThe same band you did last week. Just one member, though.â
And you know instantly who he speaks of, your face contorting into an expression of disgust as you wash your paint in the cup of water once more.
âHyunjin?â You query.
âThatâs him,â he says, snapping his fingers as the name comes back to him. âHeâs offering double what we paid last, and just for an individual piece. Thatâs a massive markup from what we usually charge.â
âI donât know,â you reply hesitantly. âIâm pretty busy with this, and we-â
âI already said yes,â he states simply.
âYou did? What- I thought this was a proposal.â
âYeah,â he says with a scoff. âA proposal to get your stuff ready. We start tomorrow. And he wants you to bring every color youâve got.â
âTomorrow? Donât we already have a prior commitment?â
âAlready moved them out,â Q says, sitting on the chair across from you.
âLook,â he begins, sighing deeply. âI know youâre hesitant about these things. But this is the best move you can do, career-wise. Painting these famous figures is a gold mine for us. One day you could be commissioned to paint royalty, and then weâll be reaping three times our salary.â
And you sigh, too, knowing very well that heâs right. Being a painter who gets commissioned to commemorate important characters, you know the best thing you can do for yourself is say yes to every opportunity. Youâre very seldom able to, which is why you have Q in the first place. But the prospect of spending another day with Hyunjin scares you, and youâre not sure Q would consider it a legitimate concern if you brought it up to him.
âIâll be there, too,â Q interrupts, almost as though he can read your mind. âItâs just him. One day, max, and then you can pick up your other projects.â
It doesnât seem like there will be a way out of this one, no matter how much you pray that things will fall through eventually.
âOne day,â you echo. âAnd then Iâm tunnel vision on the rest of my projects.â
*
You can tell Hyunjinâs thought about this very carefully, judging by the way he saunters into the room with purposeful strides and slings a bag off his shoulder.
Heâs dressed a little more casually today in a denim jacket and jeans, with layered silver jewelry that contrasts nicely against his jet black hair.
âLike a model headshot, but painted,â he describes his vision to you, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.
âI want it to look really serious. And maybe a cool-toned color palette.â
Heâs meticulous with his requests, and you wonder briefly if he dabbles in art, himself.
âSure, we can do that,â Q responds, jotting down a few points in a small notepad.
You say nothing, letting Q do all the talking, but Hyunjinâs eyes glance over at you briefly like he wants you to acknowledge the request. So you just nod graciously, giving him a thin-lipped smile, and begin to undo your briefcase.
Hyunjin assumes his same spot on one of the wooden stools, dragging it closer to you by its leg and propping it within eye-view of your big canvas. And then he sits on it, or rather slouches, adjusting his gaze to look straight at you and maintain a cold, serious expression.
Itâs just as unnerving as youâd remembered it, having this model-looking figure pierce daggers through your soul while you mix your paints- cool-toned ones, at his request, and prepare for the hour-long trek of capturing his essence.
At least you wonât have to talk to him- or so youâd assumed from the last session you completed with him.
âWhatâs your process like?â He asks, his sultry voice perfectly matching his features.
âOh,â you remark, mixing a set of paints to mirror his even skin tone. âI donât know, I just paint what I see.â
He nods, satisfied with your less-than-wordy answer, and then he begins to prod you with more questions.
âWhat are your favorite art supplies?â
You cock an eyebrow at this, well aware that you have a long list you can indulge him in, but not wanting to share your secrets with this complete stranger.
âI dunno,â you reply softly. âOil paints, and graphite pencils really.â
Hyunjin nods again, and then he glances at Q, who gives him a thin-lipped smile much like yours, trying his hardest to remain polite with Hyunjin. You know Q is likely frustrated with you for not entertaining this conversation in a more lively manner, especially considering what he paid for this session, but youâre not going to indulge him in anything except painting him- and only for this one session, like you promised Q.
And the rest of the session is uneventful, Hyunjin poking you with questions about your personal favorite paintings or inquiring about a time you messed up on an important piece. All questions which are answered with brief âI donât knowâsâ or âthere are so many, I canât choose.â
And although you are trying hard to keep Hyunjin at a distance, nothing seems to faze him, his head nods and little hums serving as indicators of his satisfaction with all of your answers. He doesnât get pushy, like your other clients often do, and he even presses Q for a few answers as he makes sense of your work.
At just past 5, the session draws to a close, as Hyunjin rises from his stool and announces he has to tend to his evening dance practice.
âItâs nice seeing you again,â Hyunjin says as he approaches you, giving a small bow as Q waits off to the side.
âThank you,â you voice back, glancing at Q for a push to leave.
And Hyunjin extends a single hand, gesturing for you to place yours in his, as he towers over you with a curious expression.
You reluctantly place your palm in his, letting the cool metal of his rings graze your skin as he clasps his thumbs over your fingers and rubs them in gentle back and forth motions. He doesnât bring it up for a cordial peck, he doesnât shake it- he simply caresses your artist hands tenderly, before letting go again and turning to give Q a small bow as well.
âTake care,â Hyunjin says, pivoting to exit the room into the corridor.
And as Q pesters you with orders to clean up your workstation, you examine your own hands, rotating your own fingers around, like they might somehow be changed by his touch.
*
ON HOLD- The notes under your projects on the big calendar in Qâs office read, written in dark red pen and underlined twice across the pages.
You furrow your brows in confusion, setting your bag down as you enter for the day and ready your art supplies.
âWhatâs going on?â You ask Q, whoâs busy sorting through a stack of invoices.
âHave a seat,â he replies plainly, gesturing to one of the leather chairs that accompany his grand wooden desk. And you do, sitting on the very edge of the chair as you await further instruction from him.
âA gift came for you,â Q says, slinging a large box on the desk in front of you.
You stand up once again, peering inside at the myriad of oil paints, sharpened charcoal pencils, new smocks, palettes and even books about artists and their works. You dig through the supplies, heart racing at the expensive choices, feeling undeserving of all the presents the box contains.
âThis is all for me?â You question, baffled at the prospect that anybody could care enough about your career to indulge you in such a fine assortment of goods.
âRead the card,â Q then says, his arms folded in front of him as he nods toward the top of the cardboard box, where a simple yellow envelope is taped to the cover, cursive text scribbled on the front. Hyunjin, it reads.
You undo the seal, pulling out the small card inside, which only contains a short, cold sentence, in contrast to the warm gift.
âFor the next fewâ, it says, not so much as a sign off or even a simple âthanksâ.
âNext few?â You repeat, meeting Qâs gaze with a confused expression.
Q sighs, sitting across from you, folding his hands out on the wooden surface where you can see them.
âHis manager called this morning,â he begins. âAnd commissioned us for another one. Except this one has a long set of rules. He wants you to use these supplies, he wants to visit your studio instead of occupy the company building. And he specifically asked me not to accompany you.â
âWhat?â You exclaim, angered at the sheer audacity he has, and knowing very well that you only agreed to one painting.
âThatâs completely against our rules,â you continue. âDid you tell him no?â
And Q gives you a sheepish grin, gesturing to the stack of papers he flipped through earlier. âTheyâre offering quadruple the pay,â he says sternly. âHeâs obsessed with your work.â
âSo what?â You argue. âI have a ton of other projects to finish. And Iâm not throwing all of that away because some guy wants time alone with the artist.â
âThereâs nothing wrong with wanting alone time with an artist,â Q emphasizes.
âThis is a huge sacrifice, Quinton. I wish you wouldâve run this by me earlier.â
Your eyes meet the calendar above his desk again, counting the number of projects with a big ON HOLD scribbled below them. Q sighs, evidently feeling a little guilty for his own actions, and then pinches his wireframe glasses between his fingers, pulling them off his face and tucking them into the pocket of his blazer.
âIâm willing to give you 10% more than what you already make from these.â
Your gaze snaps to his, a bewildered expression on your face as you process his words.
âWhat- seriously? Quinton, thatâs-â
âHis companyâs loadedâ he says with a shrug. âThe guy is so much bigger than I thought he was. People love him.â
And your gaze flickers between the calendar and the big red text, Quintonâs hopeful stare and at the box of new art supplies youâll be required to work with.
Q doesnât need to press you for verbal confirmation, knowing that the caress of your fingers over Hyunjinâs name on the envelope serves as answer enough.
*
Your studio is particularly messy on Wednesdays, housing all of the project paraphernalia from the days prior. Today is no exception, canvases that sit on easels lining the walls and cans of paint thinner spread out on the tarps. You make your best attempt at shoving everything against the wall, creating a clear pathway for Hyunjin to stride into the way he always does. And you set up your canvas prior to his arrival, getting all of your necessary supplies in place to avoid the awkward few moments of setting up while he watches you so intently.
Heâs a punctual idol if youâve ever met one, arriving at 5pm on the dot, expensive-looking sunglasses shielding his eyes from the barely visible sunlight outside, and a black beanie pulled over his head. He looks like he could be a security guard of his own, the all-black attire even more unsettling as he makes his way inside.
Thereâs a reason you never house clients in your own studio- the reason being itâs small. Itâs office-sized, large glass windows on one side of the wall that overlook a sea of greenery thatâs now overgrown with all the recent rains. The floor is gray concrete, stained just about everywhere with swatches of paint and charcoal pieces. And the two tabled surfaces that are available are covered in art supplies, the color of the furniture now indistinguishable as they house tubes of paint, brushes and cans of thinner.
âYou can put your bag on the chair there,â you say as he walks in, his hands still shoved in his pockets.
He does as told, setting a designer crossbody on the folding chair by one of the tables, and then he stands confidently, observing the room as he awaits further instruction.
He takes long strides around the perimeter of the room, leaning closely into the existing canvases to study your techniques. But he says nothing, remaining much quieter than last time, the only sound coming from his heeled boots as he moves elegantly around the studio.
âIâm ready,â you say, and Hyunjin turns around to face you. He cocks his head slightly, and then he brings one hand up to pull the beanie off his head, letting his brown tresses fall loosely around his handsome face, not requiring much adjustment as they seem to fall in disarray so perfectly. He pulls his sunglasses off as well, folding them between his plump lips before tucking them into the pocket of his jeans as he finally stops to look at you.
He looks as handsome as he always does, his unreal features looking as though he was modeled by a painting and not the other way around. You feel small in front of him, and unimportant, as he approaches you and stops just in front of your much smaller figure.
âHow do you want me?â Hyunjin asks, cuffing up the sleeves of his black knit sweater.
âItâs up to you,â you reply to him, giving a small shrug as you speak.
âThis oneâs your call,â Hyunjin retorts. âI want it from the artistâs vision.â
And you canât help the blush that creeps up on your cheeks, feeling embarrassingly flustered at the idea of someone caring even slightly about your vision. Everythingâs from your clientâs vision- the outfits, the poses, even the adjustments they request following the paintingâs unveiling. Itâs very seldom that youâre able to provide any directions to the standard of your vision, and though itâs unexpected, itâs a little endearing.
âMy vision?â You echo, tapping your fingers on your chin.
You glance around the room at the supplies you have on hand, nothing special, but definitely materials you can work with.
Without replying to him, you pull forward one of the folding chairs, setting it down in front of your easel and gesturing to it.
âCould you sit on the top part? Like, on the back of the chair?â
Hyunjin nods, climbing up onto the chair and balancing as he takes a seat on the back part. Itâs a little unstable looking, but Hyunjin seems to manage just fine, spreading his legs casually and running his hands through his hair.
âYour hands,â you chime in, taking note of the silver watch he flaunts on his left wrist. âCould you rest them on your knees?â
âLike this?â Hyunjin questions, sprawling his palms out over his kneecaps.
âNot quite,â you reply. âA little more likeâŚâ
And then without warning, you take both his hands in yours, positioning his elbows to rest atop his kneecaps so that his hands hang loosely in front of him. He cocks his face up to meet your gaze, the same intense expression he always houses, and you take a step back to admire the position.
âExactly like that,â you say to him. âTell me if you get uncomfortable and weâll take a break.â
Hyunjin shoots a small smile, perhaps more of a smirk at you, as he sits still and watches you begin to paint in long strokes along the canvas. Your movements are fluid and impetuous, but every stroke proves itself more robust than the last, painting a clear outline of Hyunjinâs seated figure as he keeps his eyes on you. And maybe itâs because youâve chosen his pose this time, or because itâs your third time doing this with Hyunjin, but you donât feel nearly as uncomfortable anymore, keeping your attention on the painting and disregarding any implications that might derive from his cold stare.
âI wasnât sure which brand of oil paints you preferred,â Hyunjin says suddenly. âSo I bought you three kinds.â
âOh, yeah,â you reply softly. âThank you for the gifts. You really didnât have to.â
âYou have a talent,â Hyunjin voices. âI hung the last one up in my own studio.â
âYou have a studio?â You question, remembering Q had previously mentioned something about him being an artist.
âI do,â Hyunjin answers. âItâs nothing like this one, just some canvases in the shared dorm we have. But I paint in all my free time. If I wasnât here right now, Iâd probably be painting.â
âThatâs interesting,â you reply. âIâd love to see your work someday.
And Hyunjin doesnât hesitate to pull his phone out, navigating to his camera roll to show you some of his pieces. He flashes you a painting of a bouquet of roses, placed in a glass case atop a table. Another showcases a city street, scribbled cars and people that line the pavement. And a whole gallery of them depict people- couples, in particular, in all sorts of romantic poses. Kissing, hugging, embracing with such passion and force, almost consuming each other with their visible desperation for one another.
âTheyâre beautiful,â you say, in awe at the technique of his art. You werenât expecting him to be so good, for someone who doesnât paint as a full-time career.
âThank you,â Hyunjin replies, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. âIâve learned so much from you.â
âMe?â You retort with a small chuckle. âI highly doubt that, your stuff is very unique. But Iâm flattered that youâd say that. Thank you.â
Hyunjin keeps his gaze on yours for a moment, cocking his head to the side as though heâs observing your features. He doesnât say anything, his eyes narrowing and widening again as he takes in the sight of you dabbing a little more olive paint into his complexion. And then he straightens his back, steadying himself on the chair with two hands gripping the sides.
âWhen was the last time you left this studio?â He inquires with a smug expression. He sounds a little more serious now, and his tone of voice makes your heartbeat race.
âI donât live here,â you reply plainly. âI leave every day.â
âWhen was the last time you escaped?â He then clarifies. âWhen was the last time you werenât confined here for the purposes of work?â
You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep busy with your task and avert his gaze.
âThis is my job,â you say sternly. âI donât want to escape.â
âIâm a dancer,â Hyunjin states matter-of-factly. âI donât live in the studio at the building. Sure, the bright lights and the walls of mirrors help with the choreography. But sometimes I dance in my dorm. And sometimes I dance in a big grass field when nobodyâs watching.â
You pause your brushstrokes for a moment, finally meeting his gaze as he stares down at you. He raises one eyebrow, waiting for an answer, which you fail to provide him with as he leans forward once again and clasps his hands together.
âYou feel trapped here, donât you?â
And suddenly his words infuriate you, the sheer audacity of him to walk into your studio demanding all these rules from you, like your boundaries can be overlooked if theyâre bought. And who is he to pry into your life like this, knowing next to nothing about you except that youâre a painter? Itâs blasphemous- offensive, even.
âIâm not trapped,â you say, standing from your stool and backing away from him a little. âI love my job. I can quit whenever I want to, and this is my passion.â
âWho are you when youâre not painting these portraits?â Hyunjin inquires, and your eyebrows contort into a much angrier frown.
âWho are you to imply any of this, anyway? Youâre an idol. Youâre the one whoâs trapped in the confines of a million rules- are you even allowed to be here right now? Who are you when youâre not putting on the mask of a completely different persona?â
You exhale frustratedly as you finish, taking a moment to catch your breath, and trying your best to avoid his gaze. But when you meet his piercing eyes again, heâs smiling, a wicked expression on his face like heâs amused at your lashing.
âIâm glad you asked ,â he says simply.
âWhat?â
âIâd assumed it was part of your vision, to maybe scratch below the surface of the flesh outlines you paint. I know thereâs more than meets the eye to your work. You have this passion about you.â
âPassion?â You reply nervously, now fiddling with the brush still in your grasp.
âMhm,â Hyunjin responds casually. âLike you want to lash out. Go on, get it off your chest. I wonât mind.â
And you say nothing again, shrinking back into the confines of your wooden stool as you swirl the brush around in the same mug of water and dip it back into a dollop of paint.
âIâm sorry,â you voice to him. âI donât treat my clients like this. I hope youâll forgive me.â
Hyunjinâs shoulders sag a little, as though he was waiting for you to keep the chaos alive in this little studio. He just nods, and then he assumes the same position as earlier, his knees spread in front of him and his hands resting comfortably on his knee caps as he slouches forward.
You resume the task of shading in his skin tone, adding highlights to the elevated portions of his face and glancing over at him in intervals to confirm where the light hits him.
âIâve learned so much from you,â Hyunjin says for the second time tonight, and youâre still unsure what he means by it. âI think we could learn a lot about each other.â
And the studio falls silent for the remainder of the session, as he allows his eyes to bore into your soul while you translate his being onto the canvas in front of you. Or at least the parts that are able to be translated.
*
Your calendar is blocked off for the remainder of the week for other clients, Hyunjin rescheduling his sessions as he prepares for a performance overseas.
Your heart sinks a little when Q announces the schedule change to you, secretly praying you havenât completely ruined your artist/client relationship with Hyunjin. Heâs definitely a little odd, and he can be pushy when he wants to be. But heâs undeniably more intriguing than the investors youâre used to housing at the studio, telling you stories of his dancing and inquiring about all your favorite techniques every chance he gets.
Heâs the first client whoâs ever uttered the word âvisionâ when it came to yours, and not his, and you canât let go of the value it added to your last session with him. You had yelled at him, ordered him to stop projecting his thoughts onto yours and asking personal questions. But it was the first time you felt alive, somewhat visible to a client as you painted them. His eyes pierce through your soul, every tangible inch of it, and not just the empty shell of who you are when youâre not existing so loudly. And Hyunjin seems like the only catalyst that allows you to exist loudly these days, even Q walking all over you like youâre an extension of his tedious ways.
Although your last conversation didnât go quite as smoothly as youâd hoped it would, Hyunjinâs words continue to circle your mind relentlessly, your heart trying to make sense of them no matter how hard you try.
âWho are you when youâre not painting these portraits?â
Itâs a fair question, and it doesnât necessarily have to be a discourteous one, either. Maybe heâs genuinely curious about the woman you are when youâre not following Qâs orders. But where has Hyunjin pulled the implication from that youâre anyone except for the person assigned to produce these portraits? Youâve given him no reason to think anything of you besides the well-mannered, focused painter you are. And to imply anything else would also, by extension, imply he knows something about you.
âIâve learned so much about you,â he had also said to you, twice in the same session. And can one really learn from two, three sessions of watching an artist paint? Sure, if he was more focused on your technique and your mannerisms rather than staring at you so intensely. But he hadnât seemed to be interested in much else, simply keeping his gaze on yours and asking base-level questions about your artist career.
If anything, you could learn a lot about Hyunjin, who has the whole world at his disposal and walks around this place like he owns it. He speaks of you like heâs trying to study you. He wants to learn from you, despite being the one wielding much more knowledge and wisdom than you could even begin to fathom. True, you donât escape this studio- and you donât utilize it without the intention to work. In fact, your work consumes you most days, your personal life just a microscopic dot in the grand scheme of this arrangement.
But Hyunjin seems to think otherwise, his generous gifts and his fascination with returning seeming to imply something else. Like he wants to learn from you, or like heâs convinced he already has.
In apprehension, like he knows you.
*
âWhere are we going?â You query when Hyunjin arrives next, quickly ordering you to gather your supplies and ushering you to the door.
âWeâre not painting here today,â he says plainly.
âWhat? No, Hyunjin I donât paint anywhere except for-â
âThe studio or a company,â he finishes. âThatâs the issue. I want to take you somewhere more lively.â
âI canât be around people,â you respond. âI donât⌠itâll just mess up the whole process.â
âDo you trust me?â Hyunjin asks suddenly, his hand extending out to yours for the briefcase you grasp.
What a simplified question- absolutely not. You donât trust him, thatâs the issue with leaving the studio. Youâre still not sure of his career as a whole, youâre not sure why heâs so adamant about breaking all sorts of rules and you donât know anything beyond his name.
âNo,â you reply. âI donât think I trust you at all, actually.â
And Hyunjin just smiles, stepping forward to take the briefcase from you.
âGood,â he replies, the same amused smile plastered on his face. âThat means thereâs still a lot I can teach you.â
He watches you slip on your coat, undeniably confused, but in a trance-like state obeying his commands, like your heart wonât let you hear your brainâs protests.
Hyunjin doesnât drive. He doesnât need to, having his own personal chauffeur at his beck and call, able to go just about anywhere in the evening during his allotted hours of free time. Ones he normally spends in the studio, watching you paint.
You sit quietly on one side of the fancy black car, your hands folded neatly in your lap and staring at the passing blur of city lights out the window. Hyunjin occupies the other, one of his slender hands resting atop the briefcase in an attempt to steady it whilst the driver makes sharp turns and brakes a little too harshly.
You watch as the city roads turn to one long paved road, surrounded by tall grass and trees. And this path goes on for a while, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, as you remain in comfortable silence. The driver seems to be acquainted with the road, turning every way he needs to, no form of navigation telling where to go, simply having memorized the route. And Hyunjin doesnât seem tense in the slightest, humming softly to himself as he taps his fingers along the leather surface of the briefcase.
The fork at the end of the road signals the stopping point for the driver, who hits the brakes, but doesnât turn the car off. The keys remain in the ignition as he comes around to open your door, guiding you out with one hand and bowing graciously to the both of you.
âOne hour,â Hyunjin says to him, sliding him a generously folded bill.
The driver nods, occupying his spot in the driverâs seat, and you watch him make a U-turn before driving off down the path again.
The environment is quiet, much quieter than any spot back in the city. Itâs nothing except for trees and tall grass that sway with the gentle evening breeze, the sky swallowing up a now orange sun as nighttime begins to over both of you. If you squint, you can even see the mountains from here, some of them lined with little yellow lights, probably vacant buildings or farm workers. And the birds sing their last songs of the day, mellow tunes that harmonize with the growing chirps of crickets.
âItâs pretty here,â you remark to Hyunjin, who stands looking out at the view with his hands tucked in his coat pockets.
He doesnât reply for a moment, his long hair swaying with the breeze. And then he tilts his head in the direction of the briefcase, nodding once.
âPaint what you see,â he orders.
You nod reluctantly, scrambling to open the briefcase and set up your supplies.
âDo you want to stand there? Or⌠do you prefer something else?â
He smiles, a little amused at your rushed state, and then he shakes his head.
âNot me,â he clarifies. âThe view. Paint what you see.â
You swallow a lump in your throat, stopping your movements and pondering the words for a moment. You havenât painted a view in god knows how long. Your skills are rusty, your techniques are skewed and the whole concept of it makes you shudder.
âThe view?â You question back. You take a moment to look at the view again- there are possibilities everywhere. Green grasses that resemble paint strokes themselves, a deepening blue sky with strokes of blues and blacks, stars like paint splatters and trees with sponge-painted bushels. The art is everywhere, the possibilities are vast and endless with a view like this one.
âThe view,â Hyunjin echoes. âDonât take it too seriously. This isnât some company's order to paint me. I just want to see the world through your eyes.â
And you nod, once, Hyunjin helping you latch your sketch pad to the easel as you mix a myriad of blues and greens together on your wooden palette.
He flips through your sketch pad for a little while before stepping away, nodding at the pages upon pages of art unlike any of your portraits. When you think heâs going to move, he doesnât, remaining in the same spot and nodding his head at the works. And you feel a little shy, a little confused at why heâs taken so much interest in the work you complete on the side, work completely unrelated to any of your portraits. When he reaches a blank page, he meets your gaze with a small smile, nodding his head once at you as he finally moves out of the way.
And then you finally begin, hesitantly, as Hyunjin finds a spot in an undisturbed part of the grass, sprawling his long legs out in front of him and pulling out a sketch pad from his own bag. He angles it away from you, beginning to make long, generous lines with his charcoal pencil, peering over at the trees every now and then to gauge their shape. And you remain there, a comfortable silence among both of you, as you both capture the view in your respective visions.
The technique comes back to you instantly, like motion memory, quickly sponging leaves into the trees and pulling the dark sky from its draped position over you to plaster it onto the canvas you work on. Blues, greens, glittering whites for the night stars and fantastic shades of chartreuse and viridian find their homes on the canvas, so carefully placed and mirroring the view you overlook. You emulate the shadows, the waning glints of light, even the sounds seem to live on the picturesque view where time stands still in the confines of four walls.
Hyunjin doesnât disturb your work flow- in fact, for most of the time you remain there, you cease to remember heâs even working on a sketch of his own, his delicate figure disappearing among the trees as your peripherals shut him out and bring nature to the forefront.
Itâs only an hour youâre there, like Hyunjin had promised, before heâs returning to your spot and standing behind you to look over your shoulder.
âBeautiful,â Hyunjin states dramatically. âBeautiful, and spectacular, and shining.â
You chuckle lightly, wiping the brush on your smock and tucking it away in one of the front pockets.
âWill you sign it?â Hyunjin asks, cocking his head a little to try to find where your signature currently sits, but finding nothing.
âOh, yeah,â you respond, bringing a charcoal pencil to the bottom right and scribbling a quick signature.
He scans the painting once more, tracing a finger over the corner where youâve added your signature, and then he gives a small nod before meeting your gaze.
âThis oneâs my favorite,â Hyunjin tells you. âBecause itâs entirely your vision.â
âThe ones I make of you are my vision, too,â you explain, and Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.
âI like how you see the world. Not how you see me. Or anybody else, for that matter.â
And you find yourself blushing again, unsure if his intention is to fluster you with his poetic words, but well aware that heâs having the effect on you regardless.
âThank you,â you echo politely. âI like this one, too.â
Your gazes remain fixed on each other for a brief moment, the grass now standing still as the night falls over you, stars glittering in the black sky and the crickets singing their nocturnal songs.
For the first time since meeting him, Hyunjin looks less cold at this proximity to you, his entire demeanor exuding softness and comfort as he smiles at you. Maybe itâs the black puffer coat he wears, the collar pulled up to his chin to keep warm from the frigid winter night around you. He wears his glasses, too, these ones a thicker black frame, pushed high up on his face and a little dorky, admittedly. But itâs also because he seems kinder, more warm and welcoming. Thereâs no existing rush to capture him any which way- in fact, thereâs no pressure to capture him at all. And maybe when youâre not translating his model-like appearance onto canvas, youâre able to step back and admire that heâs soft under his hard exterior, heâs so gentle and human.
At first, you debate telling him, a sudden urge inside of you to apologize for your presumptions of him and admit that heâs slowly become your favorite client to be around. Maybe heâs right- maybe you do have a lot you can teach each other. He lives a life of lavishness, entertaining varying aspects of his idol career and serving a role of great importance to those who know him. And he is certainly of importance to your career, being your highest-paying customer and the one youâve painted the most now. But he plays a role in other parts of your life too, allowing you to try new techniques, entertain your vision, circling your mind with his poetic words and his strategic motions. All lessons which allow you to grow outside the confines of your studio, too.
But you settle on silence, not wanting Hyunjin to think too boldly of you. Maybe heâs like this with everybody he crosses paths with. Choreographers, vocal coaches and painters alike. Maybe heâs simply as fascinating as he looks.
As you study him again, the sound of a car engine interrupts you, and you turn around to find Hyunjinâs driver has returned as promised. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright headlights that illuminate the whole field, as Hyunjin helps you gather your supplies again, securing the canvas in its case and transporting it into the backseat of the car with the driverâs help.
Hyunjin holds the door for you this time, ushering you inside, and then he comes around to slide into the backseat next to you.
âI think itâs going to rain,â the driver says as he puts the car in reverse.
You crane your neck to look at the sky through the tinted windows, dark blue clouds that loom overhead and seem to make the night even colder.
âI have one more place we need to stop at,â Hyunjin says suddenly, sitting forward to make eye contact with the driver through the mirror.
The driver nods in response, as if the last location is a secret kept between them, as he begins down the dirt path again in silence.
*
âEver been here?â Hyunjin questions, as he holds out a hand to guide you up the stairs. The steep concrete stairs lead to a grand crested marble doorway, a bronze statue out in front and dimly lit lamp posts that illuminate the sign overhead.
Museum of Modern Art.
âOnce, a long, long time ago,â you respond. âI think I usually steer clear from galleries since I donât show my work at them.â
Hyunjin chuckles softly, stopping at the front door and meeting the gaze of a security guard, who promptly strides over and opens the door just an inch.
Hyunjin pulls out an ID, and a folded paper of some sort, and you watch as the security examines it briefly before nodding. Itâs only then that you realize the museum is closed for the evening, the only person around behind the night security, but of course that rule doesnât apply to Hyunjin, who can get in just about anywhere with the flash of a smile.
âItâs the only way to visit with no one else around,â Hyunjin says, confirming your theory. âThey let me stay as long as I want. Sometimes I draw here.â
You nod at his words, giving a small smile as the security eyes you intensely, and then he opens the door to guide both of you inside. Hyunjin removes his coat, slinging it over a nearby coat hanger, and he flaunts a white knit sweater with his dark jeans, looking cozy in contrast to the dark winter night outside. He holds your sketch pad tucked under one arm, and then he skips excitedly to a room behind a curtain.
âThis oneâs my favorite!â He exclaims, giggling softly like a child might. âDo you know theyâre all made out of recycled materials?â
And you brush the curtain aside, being met with the sculptures he speaks of, neutral-toned figurines that appear to be made of paper mache, all resembling people. Their forms hold each other, mimic ballroom dancing, and even embrace each other in a tender kiss as they stand tall in the center of the room.
You watch as Hyunjin snaps a few photos with his cellphone, craning his neck to view them at a better angle, and then he turns to face you.
âWhat do you think?â Hyunjin asks.
âTheyâre beautiful,â you reply. âThey kind of remind me of your drawings.â
He shoots you a flustered smile in response, touched that youâve even remembered what his drawings look like. And then he graciously bows as he ushers to another room.
âI think youâll like the next one.â
The next room behind another dark curtain is a gallery of paintings, all of them abstract forms of art that experiment with different colors and mediums. You take a while in this room, sauntering down the row of canvases and observing how each one captures something completely different from the others. Some include only cool-toned shades, their strokes much smaller and overall more somber. Some play with warm tones, long generous strokes that capture passion and heat. And some mix both, two stories dancing in harmony on one canvas, contrasting light with shadow and love with regret.
As you cock your head slightly, observing the way the colors are so evocative from this proximity, Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, cocking his head in a similar fashion and taking in the same details that you do. And if someone were to stand behind you, maybe both of you would mirror the painting, too, two hues of life and recluse working in perfect harmony alongside each other.
âNice, isnât it?â Hyunjin asks, and you hum in response.
âYeah. I love these colors.â
Hyunjin nods, giving the painting a last once-over before nodding in the direction of another curtain.
âCome on, I want to show you this last one.â
The last room houses a little bench, where Hyunjin occupies the left side and pats the spot next to him. You take a seat, your hands folded neatly in your lap, as you observe the colossal painting in front of you.
Itâs a watercolor painting, one amorphous shape at a far distance, yet at this proximity, the tangible outline of a figure, sat with legs pulled to the chest and crouched in a position evoking such sadness.
The cold blue hues highlight the shadows which define body parts among the pile of limbs, the curve of a breast, the almost indistinguishable outline of a leg, aspects you have to really squint hard to make out. But the colors complement each other so artistically, and the figure in the painting looks so melancholy, so longing for something more than the confines of the canvas she lives on.
âIsnât it beautiful?â Hyunjin voices, and you nod, swallowing as you remain quiet.
He pauses for a moment, his voice hitching in the back of his throat, before speaking again.
âThe artist was a child prodigy,â he begins. âApparently they painted all their life and then became a sort of recluse into adulthood. No oneâs seen a painting from them since. This was their last big project.â
âInteresting,â you remark quietly.
âYeah,â Hyunjin replies. âAnd their art is always titled around themes of loneliness and solitude. Every painting kind of feels like a puzzle piece leading up to their disappearance from the art world.â
Hyunjin says nothing as your eyes dart around the room, swallowing nervously as you ponder what to say. And nothing comes to mind, nothing that wonât make you seem crazy, or irate.
And then before you can protest his actions, he flips open your sketch pad heâs kept tucked under his arm all this time, flipping through a few pages until heâs nearly at the end. He stops at one of your paintings, cool aqua hues filling the paper in the same manner as the one hung on the wall.
âItâs you, isnât it?â Hyunjin finally says, and you realize heâs turned to face you now.
You stand up at this point, smoothing down your blouse and turning away from his gaze.
âSorry, I have to go-â
You search for an exit, unable to locate one amidst the dark curtains and the dimly lit room. And the only thing you can think to do is walk back the way you entered, beginning back through the abstract painting gallery as Hyunjin follows behind you.
âTheyâre amazing,â Hyunjin says. âYou have a talent. Your paintings were always my favorite-â
âPlease, stop,â you interrupt, your heart beating erratically as you make your way past the paper mache sculptures.
âWhy did you stop making them?â He asks, now standing still in the entrance, the security guard on high alert as he watches Hyunjinâs stressed demeanor.
âSorry,â you voice to the security guard, bowing to him. âI have to go, thank you so much.â
And without turning to look at Hyunjin, you push the doors open, making your way out of the museum and onto the concrete steps. Itâs raining now, hard, like the driver had predicted, and you march right past his parked car to one of the taxis parked by the curb.
The cab driver takes an address from you, punching it into his navigation system as he begins to drive down the street, and you pray he canât hear the quiet sniffles coming from you in the backseat.
As he pulls away from the curb, you glance out the window at the museum, where Hyunjinâs now shoving past the door and standing still, his hands dropped at his sides and a hurt expression on his face.
His hair falls damp around his face as he lets the sheets of rain wash over him, his driver exiting the vehicle in a rush to get Hyunjin back into the safety of the car.
But he remains there, unmoving, his hurt gaze fixed on yours, as you turn a corner and fall out of his sight.
*
And just like the sessions were uneventful before Hyunjin, theyâre much more uneventful after him, too.
Putting the sessions on hold for Hyunjin is nothing, his life full of vibrancy and color when heâs not spending an hour or two with you in the evening posing for a painting. Itâs time he fills with extra dance practice, vocal training, spending time with his members and even doing art of his own.
But for you, it means returning to a life of mediocrity, requesting stock brokers to angle their big heads in a more appealing manner so you can capture every one of their unsightly features. Youâre ogled at by salesmen, disrespected by accountants and not a single one of them could give a shit about your vision.
A part of you wants to call Hyunjin and apologize, to explain that he was out of line in his approach to identify you and catch you so off-guard. But youâre mostly angry at him, for having ruined something so beautiful you took pride in every week. Now heâs gone, the sessions put on pause until further notice and your life forever changed by Hyunjin, though heâll keep living his life of lavishness despite being the source of all your pain.
âNow that we donât have Hyunjin on the books after this week, I need you to resume the work on Mr. Leeâs painting. Letâs not lose sight of the ones we started prior to his pieces,â Q says, as he flips through a clipboard of printed schedules.
âThis week?â You echo in question. âI thought sessions with Hyunjin were put on hold until further notice.â
âThey were,â he responds. âAfter your last session this week. Heâll be here tomorrow evening. Heâs your last client of the day.â
âTomorrow?â You repeat, pausing your brush strokes as you turn to look at him. âHe requested to come in tomorrow?â
âYeah,â Q replies with furrowed brows. âWhy, is there a problem? I already told him yes.â
âNo, thatâs fine,â you reply, rotating the brush around in your fingers as you think over his words. âTomorrow works fine.â
Despite the sessions being put on hold, youâll still have a moment to explain yourself to Hyunjin and make amends. It might not get you exactly where you were before all of this, but the thought of letting Hyunjin part ways thinking you despise him makes your stomach turn. Youâll still get a moment alone with him to rekindle the state of your friendship.
⌠Or so you thought. When you arrive at the studio the next day for your last session, Q is still there, organizing papers at one of the tables and still dressed in a fancy blazer and tie like he never left from this morningâs session.
âQuinton?â You call, setting your purse down and toying with the hem of your shirt.
âYes?â He responds, not looking up at you.
âAre you⌠donât you normally sit these sessions out?â
âOh, I forgot to tell you,â he says casually. âIâll be sitting in on this last one. I know they were put on hold pretty abruptly, and I wanted to be around for your last one.â
You give him a small nod, protesting his actions mentally. You wonât get a minute alone with Hyunjin after all- not with Q watching you like a hawk. You want to scream at him, to tell him he has to leave and that heâll be permanently disrupting the client-artist relationship youâve developed with your highest-paying customer if he stays and taints the room with his overwhelming presence. But he largely determines the success of your career, whether you like it or not. And requesting Qâs absence will most certainly point to something more going on between you and Hyunjin.
âRight,â you reply. âThatâs fine.â
You wish Quinton wouldnât be so⌠mechanical. You wish he could trust that youâll get the job done, despite any existing tensions between you and Hyunjin. You wish he wouldnât pretend to care about being present, when in reality you know he just wants to make sure it wasnât you who screwed something up. And you wish he would leave you alone with Hyunjin to make amends the way you know you need to before you part ways with him.
When the door opens once again, you both turn your heads to look at Hyunjin, who strolls in with casual strides, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze falls on Q, and he furrows his brows together, finally looking at you, with a confused expression on his face.
âWelcome!â Q says obnoxiously. âIâll be sitting in for this session, I hope you donât mind.â
Hyunjin shoots him a thin-lipped smile, giving a subtle nod as he slings his bag off.
âSure,â he replies. âThatâs fine.â
He assumes his spot on the same wooden stool, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, and then he turns to meet your gaze.
âHow do you want me?â Hyunjin asks. He sounds more somber than the other times heâd asked the same question, his voice trailing off a little as he waits for a reply.
âThis is good,â you say, taking your own seat and beginning to work light strokes across the canvas. You start with his jawline, the same chiseled jawline youâve gotten so used to painting, working a robust angle where the crook of his neck meets his cheeks. Then his eyes, the piercing intensity of them, narrowing involuntarily as he poses with such skill, the same eyes which have graced the covers of magazines and album covers. His lips, plump and rosy, forming a small pout as he remains silent. And the outline of his luscious brown tresses, which fall beautifully around his face and soften the rest of his features.
He looks so enchanting this evening, like heâs straight out of one of the paintings at the museum. And your anger feels almost completely dissipated once heâs in front of you like this, just a pressing urge to be alone with him so you can communicate properly.
âLooking good,â Q says as he comes up behind you, his hands folded behind his back.
Hyunjinâs eyes dart over at Qâs standing figure, glancing over at you again while you paint. You attempt to shoot him an apologetic expression, wanting to tell him it wasnât your idea to have Q here watching your every move. But you canât properly convey your emotions to him with Q practically breathing down your neck.
âBeautiful workâ, Q chimes in, nodding as you add the color to Hyunjinâs hair.
You can feel yourself getting frustrated with him, wishing so badly you could at least ask him to wait on the other side of the room like he normally does. But he remains there, crowding around you as you work and filling the room with his awkward presence.
âIâll drag up a chair,â Q says with a small chuckle. âSo I donât have to stand.â
And both you and Hyunjin watch as he pulls up a folding chair, dragging it along the floor in one painfully slow motion, the sound of the legs screeching against the concrete floor as he places it next to you and takes a seat.
Hyunjinâs eyes meet yours again, cocking his head slightly as though heâs asking why youâve allowed Q to be so overbearing today. But none of this is according to your plans, either.
âGo on,â Q urges. âYou donât have to wait for me.â
You hadnât even realized youâve stopped painting, grasping your brush between your fingers as you watch Q adjust in his seat and gesture to the painting.
âI think we should take a break,â Hyunjin says finally. âMy leg is cramping a little.â
âOf course,â Q echoes back. âWe can take five. Thereâs a vending machine out by the front door. And the bathrooms are on the right, by the-â
Q canât even finish his sentence before Hyunjinâs shoving his way past the door, taking long strides away from the studio and waiting outside. He pinches the bridge of his nose in deep annoyance, letting out a deep sigh as he ponders the eveningâs events so far.
âIâm going to use the restroom,â you tell Q, setting your brush down and following Hyunjin. âIâll be right back.â
And you follow his footsteps, pushing on the door to meet him outside, where he stands with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his temples frustratedly.
He looks angry, as you predict he would be, but you approach him anyway, fiddling with your thumbs as he stays quiet for a moment.
âI organized this last session to speak with you,â Hyunjin says in an annoyed tone. âI shouldâve known youâd invite him.â
âI didnât invite him,â you say quickly. âI didnât even know heâd be here, I swear. He just stayed, and he was insistent on sitting in.â
Hyunjin finally drops his hand at his side, meeting your gaze, a softening expression on his face.
âI didnât mean to scare you off,â he finally says. âI overstepped my boundaries. Iâm just here to pay you for art. Not prod into your personal life.â
âI know,â you say back. âI wanted to explain to you, butâŚâ your voice trails off, remembering this is technically your last session with him. And judging by the way everyone speaks of him, itâll be near impossible to contact him again after this.
âIt seems like I missed my chance,â you finish, referencing Qâs persistence.
Hyunjin glances around for a moment at the overgrown plants that line the studio windows, still damp from the evening rain. It looks like a jungle out here, the plants providing no clear view through the windows and instilling such a peaceful sense of privacy.
âCould you stay a little longer?â Hyunjin questions. âAfter he leaves. I just want to talk to you before I go.â
You think over his proposal for a moment- Quinton is punctual at leaving right past the hour mark. He never stays longer for hours than he needs to, but heâs no stranger to you utilizing the studio to finish up some of your work after hours.
âSure,â you say finally. âJust pretend youâve left after the session and Iâll tell him I need to stay longer. Donât wait near the parking lot or heâll see you.â
A somber smile grows on Hyunjinâs face as he nods in response.
âIâm going to call my driver and tell him Iâll be longer than the original session. Meet you back inside.â
And you make your way back into the studio, where Q is busy shuffling through papers at the table.
âReady?â He asks, already taking strides back to his stool, positioned far too close to your canvas and Hyunjinâs seat.
âYeah,â you reply, sighing a little as he occupies the seat next to you and glances around the room for Hyunjin.
âHeâs taking a phone call,â you explain to Q. âJust give him a minute.â
And Q pushes his glasses further up his nose, humming in response as he observes your painting again.
âYouâve really mastered his features,â he comments, scanning over Hyunjinâs painted outline. âEven his eye mole is already there.â
And you scan the painting too, at the little mole painted just below Hyunjinâs left eye as he requested.
âYeah,â you reply. âI guess I have.â
You wouldnât forget it, because everything about him occupies your mind, much like his figure lives on your canvases.
*
Itâs just half an hour more before youâre finished with Hyunjinâs painting. Itâs still lacking some detail, like the contours along his face and the buttons of his cardigan. But theyâre all details you give yourself time to finish later, before you wrap up your final piece and gift it to Hyunjin.
Q is relentless in his micromanaging for the remainder of the session, making useless comments about your techniques and asking Hyunjin about his own work. Hyunjinâs answers are all short and echo his clear annoyance, desperate to finish the session in order to speak with you privately. But you both remain collected in your manners, graciously conversing with Q and reaching the end of the session.
Q reviews his invoice documents as Hyunjin slings his bag on once more, standing by the door as though heâs ready to leave.
âPayment was finalized today, and your sessions are on hold until your tour is completed.â
âThank you,â Hyunjin responds, bowing graciously. âIt was a pleasure to work with both of you. Iâll be back when weâre done overseas.â
âDonât hesitate to reach out!â Q calls, as Hyunjin makes his way past the door. He waves Q off with a small smile and then turns the corner until heâs out of sight.
âWell, there goes your best-paying client,â Q remarks with a deep sigh. âWe have a lot more to pick back up on. I know Mr. Leeâs paintings are still in progress-â
âThank you, Quinton,â you voice to him. âWeâll talk scheduling tomorrow. Please just get home safely.â
âYouâre not leaving yet?â He queries, already pulling on his canvas bag and hanging his clipboard from a thumbtack on the wall.
âIâm going to finish the details while I still remember them. Iâll only be an hour longer.â
Q shrugs, making his way pivoting on his white canvas sneakers and giving you a small wave.
âCall if you need anything,â he says plainly. âMake sure to lock up.â
âI will,â you echo, craning your neck as you watch him finally exit past the door and jog down the stairs. You canât see Hyunjin anywhere, but Q doesnât seem to notice him if heâs still around, starting his car and speeding out of the parking lot.
And not even a full minute passes before Hyunjin makes his way back inside, shaking water off his hands.
âI stood under one of the gutters,â he says in a disgusted tone. His hair is stringy wet with rain water, and he chuckles when you meet his gaze with an amused smile.
âYouâll have to let me paint it like that, someday,â you respond, and he laughs lightly.
You take a seat on the folding chair previously occupied by Q, and Hyunjin assumes his same spot on the wooden stool. For a moment he says nothing, observing your face as you tap your fingers along the metal of the chair below you. Thereâs not a sound in the room between the two of you, with the exception of a small creak coming from the wooden stool as Hyunjin adjusts his long legs. He runs his hands through his hair nervously, and then he licks his dry lips with his tongue before speaking.
âI have something for you,â Hyunjin says suddenly, his voice echoing around the empty room.
He stands up to pull his bag off the floor, and then he digs around in it for a moment before pulling out his sketchbook. You watch as his slender fingers open the spiral-bound cover, flipping past pages upon pages of sketches and paintings. He flips close to the end, and then he stops, bookmarking the page with his index finger before turning the book to face you.
âIâm sorry if you donât like it,â he says, keeping the book shut in anticipation. âItâs just something I drew.â
And then with bated breath, he opens the book out to you, adjusting the page in your view to give you a clear sight of its contents. Itâs a carefully drawn sketch, of you, standing in front of an easel with a brush in your hand. Painting, like you always do. You recognize the scenery around you as the spot he took you to the other day, the long charcoal streaks perfectly capturing the grass that surrounded you and the tall trees that overlooked the hills. Although itâs a sight familiar to you, it also feels so foreign, seeing yourself through somebody elseâs eyes. It feels peculiar to remember people also perceive you while you paint. It makes you feel less unimportant, a little more visible.
âWow, Hyunjin, this isâŚâ
âDo you like it?â Hyunjin interrupts.
âItâs so lovely. Really. I feel like I donât deserve this.â
âYou do,â heâs quick to respond. âYouâve drawn countless ones of me. And of so many other people. I wanted to gift you one of your own.â
You run your fingers along the thick paper, watching as Hyunjin tears it along its perforation and hands it to you.
âPlease, keep it,â he urges.
And you bow once in response, turning to set the drawing along with your bag so you wonât forget it.
âThank you,â you finally say. âI love it. Iâm going to hang it with all my favorite art.â
Hyunjin smiles in response, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets again, leaning against the wooden stool as a silence falls over you both.
For a moment, you ponder what to say to him, wanting to explain the events from the other evening, but unable to verbalize anything amidst your nervousness. Any way you think about it, you fear Hyunjin is going to get mad, especially considering youâd just walked away from him in the face of confrontation. But you also couldnât help it, his accusation coming so suddenly and so boldly, regardless of it being based on any sliver of truth.
âIâm sorry,â Hyunjin breaks the silence. âI donât know if I was right or not. But it wasnât my place to ask you.â
You nod at him, initially planning to divert the topic. But you canât any further, a growing urge inside of your chest to unveil the truth to him, knowing heâs already pieced this much of it together.
âIt is my painting,â you say finally, your voice shaking a little. âI specialized in those ones before portraits. They kind of gained traction when they were first unveiled, and a lot of galleries picked them up. But they drew a lot of criticism, and it became so draining to be the topic of peopleâs judgment. I think being perceived so heavily just kind of⌠scared me off. So I shifted to portraits instead, and I no longer do public showings or galleries.â
Hyunjin doesnât react in a shocked manner, nor does he press you for questions immediately. He just nods, taking in your words, and then he meets your gaze with a concerned expression.
âI learned so much from you,â he explains. âWhen your paintings were unveiled at the annual art show across the city, I was so mesmerized. Theyâre why I started painting, too.â
You chuckle lightly, shrugging at him as you slouch back in your seat.
âYeah, well, I donât do them anymore.â
You think over your response for a moment, and then you stand up from your seat, too, furrowing your brows together.
âHow did you⌠know it was me?â You question, cocking your head slightly.
âI had a hunch when I first saw your painting techniques. But I also knew it the moment I saw your other paintings in your sketchbook,â he explains. âMy favorite painting of the series is printed out and taped to my locker in our dance studio. It just felt like you. I paid attention to your art for years. I was bound to know it when I saw it.â
You nod for the umpteeth time tonight, making sense of his words as you think back to the signature you drew in front of him back in the field.
âIâm sorry I figured it out,â Hyunjin says finally. âI know this was an elaborate plan to remain anonymous and shift your focus to a new form of your work. And your portraits are amazing. But you have a real talent for those older ones. And the whole series just⌠it changed me.â
âYou donât have to be sorry,â you tell Hyunjin, looking up to meet his gaze at last. âIf anyone was going to find out, Iâm glad it was you.â
âYou are?â Hyunjin questions, and you hum in response.
âAs a client, you have this really interesting way of making me feel seen. When Iâm around you, It feels a lot more comfortable from the businessmen Iâm used to. Itâs likeâŚâ your voice trails off as you struggle to finish your sentence. âI feel like I did when I was painting my old stuff. I can see the world beyond just portraits for a little bit.â
Hyunjin says nothing, his eyes flickering down to your lips and back at your eyes once more, which are wide with curiosity and passion as you speak. Itâs such a sight to see you talk about your art with this level of devotion again, color in your face once more as you attest to your lifeâs work.
âTell me,â Hyunjin begins. âWhy are all your paintings so lonely?â
You chuckle softly, shrugging up at him.
âI am lonely,â you say simply.
âIâm lonely, too,â Hyunjin remarks.
And your expression turns serious again, your eyes not leaving his intense gaze as he flickers over your parted lips and takes one step closer to you. Heâs towering over you at this point, a strand of hair falling into his face as he lets himself lean into you a little more, just barely grazing his lips over yours.
âCan I please kiss you?â Hyunjin asks so politely, his voice coming out in a whisper as he stops himself from pressing his lips to yours while he waits for an answer.
âYeahâ you finally reply in a whisper of your own, almost on your tippy toes to match his towering height.
And then without another second to waste, Hyunjin closes the gap between both of you, leaning down to press his plump lips to yours and embrace you in a tender, desperate kiss.
He tastes like mint, his lips working against yours with no particular rush, yet his mind still running rampant with thoughts of having you as close as possible. It feels so wrong kissing him here, in the studio you strictly use for the purposes of completing your work-related tasks and nothing more. But with Hyunjinâs lips on yours and his slender hands snaking around the small of your back to pull you closer, it also feels so thrilling, instilling a sense of desire deep within you that can only be fulfilled through acting upon the emotions rooted in your innate fascination with Hyunjinâs entire being.
And you feel visible right now, so tangible when Hyunjinâs nimble hands are running down the sides of your waist and sprawling his delicate fingers along your flesh. Itâs you kissing him here, not some shell of who you are when youâre capturing the essences of millionaires on canvas. Youâre not the scribbled outlines in Hyunjinâs sketches of couples consuming each other with such passion, though you mirror them. Itâs you, child prodigy artist turned portrait specialist, and Hyunjin, in all his fame and splendor, who chooses to spend his free time with you in this studio teaching you about yourself the way you learn from him, too.
Hyunjinâs hands move to tug off the fabric of your cardigan, slouching it off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, where it piles in disarray among the white tarp that houses loose paints. Youâre pretty sure there may still be wet paint on its surface, but you donât care, your body desperately arching into Hyunjinâs tall frame as his hands cup your cheeks to kiss you even deeper.
You can barely reach him while his frame looms over you, only able to reciprocate his kisses on the tips of your toes as he takes full control of you with his mouth. And Hyunjin seems to take notice of this, intertwining his hands in yours and pulling you down with him as he sits among the tarp and sprawls his legs out in front of him. You bestride his lean figure, balancing yourself on his lap as he adjusts himself on the concrete floor, and you both laugh when you take note of the admittedly uncomfortable positioning. Itâs not meant for lovers, this dinky studio and its cold, concrete flooring. But itâs nothing that canât be overlooked when his lips are back on yours, kissing you breathlessly and tucking strands of hair behind your ears. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, an indication by Hyunjinâs definition that heâs wanted this so badly. And he knew it from the moment you walked into the company building the first time, nervously preparing yourself out in the hallway like you werenât going to be an absolute pro at your craft the way he now knows you are. He also knew it every time he observed your paintings, both your old ones and the newer ones that capture Hyunjin with such ease, every minute detail that builds up his intense stare only to break him down and soften him, translating this multifaceted version of him only you seem to visualize. And he gains confirmation of it when heâs finally acting upon his urges, your hands snaking around the back of his neck and moving in tandem with his hungry kisses against yours, grasping at his flesh like youâre trying to prove to yourself heâs real, too.
His sweater is the second article of clothing to go, your bodies only separating from one another briefly as you guide the knit fabric off over him and discard it beside you in the tarp. Your hands find his torso reluctantly, running your fingers along his flesh as though asking for his permission. And Hyunjin smiles when you do, placing his hands over yours and pressing down a little firmer for you, so that you can feel every inch of his toned body. He wields the body of a dancer, delicate curves that run along his sculpted obliques and highlight the years of intense training heâs done. His body feels strong underneath you, but he still feels soft, his touches exuding the gentle fondness he possesses for you.
And youâre kissing him again, all while his hands find your tank top and he separates to undress you, pulling it off over your head and tossing it aside. His hands are quick to find your breasts, splaying them over the mounds of your chest and massaging gently as his kisses turn hungrier. You can feel him getting hard underneath you, and you can hear his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he struggles to contain his growing bulge while you straddle him. But you indulge him even further, undoing the clasp of your bra with your own hand as you continue kissing him. Hyunjin doesnât notice until your hand reaches out to toss your bra aside, a gentle rustle emitting from beside you as it joins the pile of discarded articles of clothing. And he separates to take in the sight of you, raised goosebumps along your bare skin and your nipples aroused for him, the cold air grazing over your chest as you wait for him to resume his touches. Hyunjin gasps a little, leaning forward to take one in his mouth, and then he begins to suck harshly as his tongue swirls around your bud generously and trails saliva along your skin. You moan at the sensation, Hyunjin digging his fingernails into the small of your back and leaving little crescent marks as his sucking resumes harshly, soft moans bubbling from the back of his throat, too, as he stays latched to you. And then he pulls away to give attention to the other one, his teeth grazing the tip of your nipple before sucking again, his eyes shutting as he relishes in the taste of your skin in his mouth. Hyunjinâs hips rock gently against you as he does, chasing the friction of your legs around his crotch as he grows even harder beneath you, desperate for some release. And then he pulls away finally, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with lust and a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You bring a thumb to his forehead, swiping the bead off his blushed skin, before cupping your hands around his cheeks and bringing him in for a kiss.
âPlease let me fuck you,â Hyunjin says sheepishly against your lips, groaning lightly when he feels you squeeze your thighs once against his crotch.
âYou want to?â You ask teasingly, massaging your hands up and down the sides of his neck as he nods eagerly.
âI really, really want to,â Hyunjin responds, shutting his eyes as you squeeze your legs again and pepper his face in kisses, trailing from his forehead, to his cheeks and down his neck. Hyunjin leans back on the palms of his hands in a state of pure bliss, taking in the sensation heâs only dreamt of until now. And when you nibble down on his neck, beginning to suck a small bruise into his skin, he sits up suddenly, his hands finding yours and pushing you away gently.
âWait,â Hyunjin says. âI canât⌠do hickeys. Companyâs orders,â he admits, a little defeated, and you nod your head quickly.
âIâm sorry,â you remark. âI totally forgot.â
âItâs okay,â Hyunjin almost cuts you off with a kiss, leaning forward and sitting up on his knees. He guides you down onto the tarp, hoisting himself up over you so that his figure is now hovering over yours, and then his hands find your pants.
âYou can do hickeys though,â Hyunjin says in an amused tone, trailing kisses down your neck the same way you did him, and latching his teeth onto your flesh to suck a line of purple bruises. You chuckle underneath him, the sensation tickling a little, but still adding to the generous pool already formed between your legs. And as Hyunjin presses into you with his kisses, you can feel his erection graze your upper thigh, once more seeking the friction of your body for some sense of relief as he longs to feel you around his hardened cock.
âHyunjin,â you voice as he kisses you, and he hums quietly in response.
âYouâre hard,â you remark, your eyes flickering to the tent pitched underneath his jeans.
âSorry,â he replies, pulling away with a worried expression in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly.
âNo, no, itâs fine,â you assure. âI just want to take care of it for you.â
And your hands find your own jeans, pulling them off your legs and tossing them aside. Hyunjinâs eyes skim over your lace panties, the trim almost see through with delicate feminine patterns, and he begins to undo the button of his jeans, too.
He kisses you as he snakes off his own pants, not wanting to separate from you any more as his eagerness grows to be as close to you as possible. And when heâs finally letting his hard cock rub against the fabric of your panties, moaning softly at the sensation, he knows he wonât be able to take it much longer if he doesnât make love to you right here in the studio.
So his hands work to pull off his boxers, finally freeing his erection against his abdomen and gasping with the cool air grazes the tip of his cock. You slide off your own panties as well, tossing them aside and letting his cock rest against your bare flesh now, his precum painting your clit with his preemptive arousal as he ruts against you. Your flesh is slick with his arousal and yours, the existing lube between both of you allowing your skin to glide upon one another so effortlessly, the same way your lips work against each other. And he continues to push his hardened length against you until heâs halfway inside of you, your cunt taking him with no struggle as he thrusts inside of you now. You adjust to his thick girth easily, his length seemingly never ending as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. And then he gives one particularly hard thrust, bottoming out inside of you and coaxing a fervent moan out of you.
âIs it okay?â Hyunjin asks, wincing at the sensation of your walls hugging his erection.
âSo good,â you whine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. âFeels so good.â
And he begins to move in and out of you at a slow pace, trying his best to stave off the orgasm heâs already close to reaching as he fucks you, filling your cunt entirely with his long cock and bottoming out every time he thrusts himself back in.
And he tries to kiss you, but he canât, his mouth simply looming over yours in its parted position as he echoes his moans into you and lets his saliva-coated lips graze over you. He looks like the subject of an erotic painting himself, eyebrows arched up so artistically with every thrust, melting into your touch as you run your hands through his hair. His initial dominance over you is quickly shifted to that of submission to your mind and your body, little whines leaving his lips as he lets you consume him whole and mold him between in your touch, like heâs made of clay and youâre the sculptor. His lanky body seems to extend as he sways his hips into yours, little dips from the pads of your fingers embedding into his pale skin. He folds effortlessly above you, the points of his elbows jutting out as he steadies his body over you, like heâs made of wire and positioned to balance over you so perfectly, not very sturdy, and yet bent and snapped just right so that he can remain glued to you. And if you were to climb out of your body and paint this exact moment, all you would see are an indistinguishable, amorphous set of limbs that seem to dissolve into each other like hues of paint on a palette. Two colors swirling around to make one, the two of you like primary colors that create endless possibilities when mixed together like this, offspring of a hundred different shades, painting the darkened studio around you with your yearning for one another.
And as Hyunjin brings a hand to stroke your cheek gently, a smile grows on his breathless lips as he realizes heâs brushed a thick stroke of wet paint along your skin. The indigo stripe contrasts coldly against your flesh, still glistening in its freshness like heâs just begun on a blank canvas.
âItâs paint,â Hyunjin says as you gasp at the cold sensation, smiling too, when he swipes it again with his thumb and flashes it down at you.
And you chuckle lightly below him, taking note of the bright orange streak that lines his neck, just below his adamâs apple. Youâre not sure when it got there, or whether it was from you or him, but you run a finger through it too, bringing it to his cheek to rub your thumb lovingly across his face and paint it there, too. And in one swift motion, Hyunjin swipes the palm of his hand along the tarp, coating it in hues of indigo and deep violet and gray, cupping a hand around your breast to coat it in the same wet substance. And you do the same, your hand dipping generously into the myriad of reds and fuchsia paints that live below you, running a hand down his chest and painting a long stripe along his toned torso.
You both laugh, as he picks up his pace again, pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, the paints melting together with your sweat as he fucks you rhythmically again. And like two blank canvases finally being put to use, new colors blossom between the two of your longing bodies, shades of magenta and blue-gray making themselves known across your breasts and his torso. The colors are vibrant and robust, transferring life from the dull tarp of the studio floor onto blank slates of skin. You wish you could step out of your body and capture the colors forever, mix paints together into little jars and name every shade after every feeling Hyunjinâs ever given you. Longing, lust, fear, fascination, infatuation, obsession.
âI think Iâm obsessed with you,â Hyunjin breathes into your mouth so desperately. âItâs indescribable, the things you do to me.â
He lets his hands intertwine with yours again, giving them a small squeeze as he fucks you a little faster now and lets his groans shift into small whimpers that escape his lips.
âPlease let me cum inside you,â Hyunjin begs, his cock slipping against your cervix with ease as wettened noises of his arousal pooling against yours fill the room. âPlease, please, I promise to take care of you, baby. I feel like I belong here.â
Heâs a whimpering mess for you now, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he fucks you and lets his hands explore every inch of your body. You want to cry, too, at the realization again that this all feels so tangible, that he makes you feel so seen when heâs hovering over you, placing open-mouthed kisses onto yours and letting his melodic moans fill your ears. The paint between you serving as proof that heâs touched you so desperately and wholly, creating art together in the confined space of your otherwise dull studio. And you want to feel him cum inside you, too, as a final reminder that youâre visible to him, that youâre no longer a fleeting, anonymous artist when youâre with Hyunjin. That he sees you for exactly you are, he knows your deepest secrets, and yet still he holds you, whispering words of permanence in your ear and letting you mold him like art. Heâs an artist on his own, and heâs art at the hands of you, both of which draw you to him in ways you canât begin to fathom, unlike anything youâve felt before. And he teaches you that youâre an artist on your own, and art at the hands of a lover, both of which you hadnât considered before Hyunjin, deeming yourself invisible in your comfortable solitude to the vast world around you. But the two coincide to echo the same sentiment that he teaches you exactly the way he also learns from you.
âCum inside me,â you breathe desperately, grasping his hands a little tighter as he fucks you at a faster pace now.
âYeah?â Hyunjin confirms, still staving off his orgasm until your verbal consent is heard.
âYes,â you respond, wrapping your legs around his waist and making your best attempt to kiss him through his release. And you do, your lips moving against his in labored breaths, as he finally twitches inside of you and paints the inside of your listless body, hues of glazed white arousal filling your aching cunt as he whimpers through his orgasm.
âFuck,â Hyunjin, breathes, giving a few more thrusts as he slows, his arousal dripping onto the tarp below you as he pulls out. And he rolls over to lie beside you, a mess of paint streaks sprawled out along his skin as his chest rises and falls with slowing breaths. The two of you say nothing for a moment, your eyes glued to a blank canvas housed on an easel in front of you.
Itâs an almost blinding shade of white, begging for an ounce of color like the shades that now live on your skin. And through your heavy breaths, you picture the endless possibilities that can fill in the empty spaces above you. Grasslands, trees, oceans, clear waters and a vast, endless blue skyâŚ
*
There is no overseas schedule Hyunjin has to tend to. Youâre already aware of this, Hyunjin explaining to you that he made it up to put the sessions on hold and to keep Q from pressing him with questions.
But he resumes the sessions after a few weeks of putting them on pause, because he canât seem to stay away from you any longer.
Hyunjin reckons he has a couple dozen of your paintings in his room now, all similar portraits of his face, portraits you capture in your signature formal essence, his face staring straight ahead or off in the distance, complete with the fine details of his long dark hair and the mole under his eye.
Only now that Hyunjin is back, Q is present at nearly every appointment. Youâre not sure why things changed, and Q maintains a new stance to Hyunjin that the guidelines are based on adjusted company policies. But Hyunjin will do just about anything to be close to you- even if it means putting up with your obnoxious boss breathing down your neck every minute while you paint him.
The sessions are somehow even more unnerving than they used to be, Hyunjin still making every valiant effort to convey his obsession with you through intense stares and little gestures only the two of you can read. Q is obstinate in his ways, his gaze constantly flickering between you and your paintings to ensure everything is going swimmingly. But Hyunjin wishes so badly he could spend the entirety of these sessions alone with you, getting to break down your walls and see you for the person he knows you are when youâre not doing portraits under Qâs all-seeing eye.
With every passing day, and every passing session, Hyunjin grows a deep hatred for Q, despising the way he watches you work and chimes in to converse with the two of you. And he knows he shouldnât, aware that Q is just your boss and nothing more. Something youâve reiterated to him time and time again, but he canât help it, desperate to have you all to himself every second of the day, a deep-seated longing to protect you from the hurt youâve been dealt and wanting so badly for you to break free from the monotonous cycle youâve confined yourself to of painting for anyone except yourself.
You can tell Hyunjin hates Q, judging by the way he doesnât so much look in his direction when he arrives for his sessions. But you canât convey the slightest bit of reaction in front of either of them, too scared of the prospect of what would happen to your career if anyone were to find out youâre fucking a client.
You maintain a professional composure around Hyunjin, despite the knowing stares he gives you and the sketches you catch him slipping into your purse when Q isnât looking. At times heâs not around, you complete your daily tasks, well-mannered and organized to the clients who hire you, shooting them kind smiles and complimenting their black business attire when they show up for the evening. When the days draw to a close, Q is punctual as always, leaving just minutes past your last appointment and taking his work home with him.
And when his sleek black car turns out of the corner of the parking lot, Hyunjin slips inside like a mere shadow on the wall, quick to seduce you all over again and gift you with all of his recent sketches. Some of them are portraits of you, smiling or focused on your work. Some of them are erotic nude shots of you, lying on the tarp of the studio or touching yourself the way he pictures you do when youâre all alone. And some of them include both of you, your bodies tangled desperately into each other and drowning in your yearning and love. Sometimes nude, his hands on yours and fucking you mercilessly. Sometimes fully clothed, his lips on yours and bundled up in winter clothes. But always together, always desperate in your touches and always so tangible. You reckon heâs persuaded you into being fucked you on every surface of the dingy studio by now- against the canvases, on the tarp- several times, on the table Q typically occupies and just about every stool available to the two of you. And while Q is oblivious about why you stay a little longer every night, Hyunjin is both calculated and persuasive in returning so you two can get some time alone, time that always ends with his seed dripping out of your still-aching cunt, bodies entangled somewhere within the studio and covered in fresh swatches of paint.
He may have somewhat of an obsession with you, but life is teeming around the studio when Hyunjin is near, the colors and shapes of your work much more robust and vibrant when heâs striding around the space commenting on all his favorite pieces of yours. And you relish in stories of his days, typically spent at fan events or at dance practices. Having him return feels like having your physical figure return home to you, the world in complete equilibrium when heâs near, much less lonely than the one youâre used to.
âI could watch you do this forever,â Hyunjin remarks, watching you glide a brush along your canvas, filling in the shadows of a figure on the canvas in front of you.
And this oneâs not a portrait- itâs a watercolor figure, much like the ones you used to paint back then, the technique coming back to you with ease as you highlight the convexes of a body mirroring yours and add varying hues as highlights.
Per Hyunjinâs request, you paint the figures occasionally, only because heâs repeatedly expressed his fascination at watching you complete the process in a live session. The paintings reminiscent of your old work arenât for sale, nor are they critiqued by anyone except for yourself. And theyâre certainly not done with the knowledge of Q, who would turn irate at you utilizing the studioâs supplies for anything but portraits.
Theyâre just for his viewing pleasure, a little exchange you indulge him in as he continues to gift you with sketches of his own.
Hyunjinâs arms snake around your waist as you paint, his head resting on your shoulder as he watches you dip your brush into a mug of water and dilute the caramel shade that taints the bristles.
âWill you add a second one?â Hyunjin asks in a curious whisper, his lips grazing your ear as you paint.
âA second one?â You echo.
âYeah,â Hyunjin says, working a trail of kisses down the shell of your ear. âThis oneâs you. Will you add me?â
You chuckle lightly, dipping your brush into a warmer shade of brown and swirling it around to gather the color on the fine hairs.
âSo they can resemble us,â Hyunjin says, his kisses traveling even lower. âPaint me fucking you the way you like it.â
You chuckle softly again, not missing the way Hyunjinâs hands travel to your skirt, flipping it up to graze his hands along the mound of your upper thigh.
âHyunjin, I-â you begin to say. But you canât answer him, shutting your eyes in pleasure as you hear him unzip his jeans behind you and position himself.
âKeep painting,â he says in a sultry whisper, pumping himself lightly behind you as he pulls your panties down.
And you try, bringing your brush to the canvas to add a second figure like heâs requested. But you can hardly make it past the first few strokes before Hyunjinâs sliding into your dripping cunt, letting his hands grip your waist to steady himself as he begins to move.
âGo on,â Hyunjin encourages, as his hips thrust in and away from your trembling figure, your hands trying their very best to keep hold of the little wooden paint brush and fill in his form.
You manage to add a subtle few streaks, beginning the amorphous outline of Hyunjinâs hair, his tall lanky figure towering over yours and taking you with such desperation.
But you donât get very far before Hyunjin is angling your face to kiss your drooly lips, his hands now finding purchase on your breasts as he continues to fuck you. And all of this is wrong, you know very well. Youâre not supposed to be sleeping with a client like this, much less one this powerful, this rich and who wields so much he can hold against you. One slip up and Hyunjin can go tell the world about how youâre the artist who disappeared to sell yourself out to rich men for all their selfish needs. And any option you have to defend yourself would never hold up against his wealthy corporation and all its investors.
But you also canât help but give into his urges when heâs around, his lips so tantalizing on yours and his cock filling you so fully and completely when he has his way with you.
Maybe itâs not even just about the sex for you- maybe it also has something to do with his stories you live through vicariously, listening to tales of the outside world while youâre trapped in this studio or at the businesses of wealthy men. Itâs also the drawings he makes for you, ones you find yourself staring at for hours after he leaves, like proof that he was here and he touched you. The drawings are you in your most tangible form, his hands on yours and his lips on the curves of your neck. Itâs like a glimpse into a version of yourself that ceases to exist when heâs absent. And itâs the late hours of the night he spends asking so politely to watch you paint your older work, always so fascinated with the way your mind conjures up varying lonely figures crafted from watercolors and a nylon bristle brush. Older work you hadnât realized you missed so dearly until you began producing it for Hyunjin again.
But you know that to Hyunjin this is just a exhilarating idea for him, to view your art the same way he carves out a couple hours each week for a museum tour or to sketch in one of his books. He probably finds it more convenient to fuck you here where nobodyâs around than to stroke himself in a dorm he shares with three other men. And you can feel it in the way he so desperately pleads you to paint for him or cum for him- that his obsession with you is less about you, and more about the thought of you.
Maybe this is just the result of Hyunjin uncovering a secret nobody else paid close enough attention to connect you to. Or the thrill of you being his favorite artist for years, and realizing youâre finally tangible in front of him, real, and not disappeared like he previously took you for. You reckon it must be the same phenomenon other girls feel toward him, getting intimate with somebody they idolize, desperately cupping his face like it might dissipate if they donât grasp hard enough. But just the thought of somebody doesnât imply love. It doesnât imply a mutual understanding, and it certainly doesnât imply permanence for either party involved. When heâs gone again, youâll cease to be real like you already are when heâs not around. And then every vision you have will be rooted in unfaltering solitude once more, your anonymous life resuming again.
âWill you cum for me?â Hyunjin asks, and you snap back to the feeling of his cock twitching in your dripping cunt as he grips your waist. âGod, you donât understand what you do to me.â
You canât give him an answer before you feel him reaching his release inside of you, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into you and slowing his pace again as he moves your hair away from your face.
âFuck, Iâm sorry, I couldnât help it,â Hyunjin says sheepishly as he pulls out. âSit down for me,â he orders between kisses to your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, grazing his hands along your waist and groaning against you.
And heâs already guiding you back to one of the stools, kneeling between your legs and spreading you for him, your glistening cunt on full display for him to taste.
âWant you to cum for me,â Hyunjin whispers, before positioning one of your legs on the wooden dowels of the stool. You canât verbalize anything to him before his tongue is darting into your entrance, lapping his own release out of you and trailing up to give attention to your swollen clit. He works you in such desperate motions, tongue working your core like a starved animal and eagerly trying to coax an orgasm out of your trembling body. When his arousal is effectively brought out of your tight cunt and painting the tip of his tongue white, he coats your clit in it, giving kitten licks to your bundle of nerves as he hums against your flesh and whispers little pleas for you to let go.
And between your pussy still clenching down around the sheer memory of his cock inside of you mere minutes ago, and his plump lips kissing all over your wettened core, you do let go for him, dribbling cum down the edge of the wooden stool and threading your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down to your thighs in encouragement.
âSo good,â Hyunjin murmurs as he comes up for air, intertwining his fingers in yours as you get cleaned up. You shoot him a little âthank youâ, and Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand as he nods, getting dressed once more and tucking his softened cock back into his boxers.
âCome here,â he states. âI want to ask you something.â
âShould I be concerned?â
âItâs exciting,â Hyunjin retorts.
He guides you to his same wooden stool, where he climbs upon the seat and then takes your hands in his again as you stand in front of him, pressing a small kiss to your palm before speaking.
âYou know I care about you, right?â He begins, his eyebrows raised curiously.
âYouâve mentioned it,â you reply.
âAnd you know I love your art.â
âSo youâve told me,â you say, and Hyunjin brings your hand up to press another kiss to your palm.
âI have a proposal for you,â he then says. âAnd I just want you to hear me out.â
Your heart sinks at his words, already fearing the worst as you wait for him to elaborate. You pray he hasnât done anything to reveal your identity, or to make these secret erotic sessions public, knowing youâd both never live a normal life again at either of the instances occurring.
âWhat is it?â You ask Hyunjin, heart racing in your chest.
He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand soothingly, trying to calm you down before he speaks.
âI privately sponsor the art gallery every year,â he begins. âI put some funding toward a painting of my choice and it allows those artists to have their pieces displayed for the winter show and make connections,â he continues.
âOkayâŚâ
âAnd I want to sponsor you this year,â Hyunjin finishes, giving your hands a little squeeze.
âHyunjin, there can't be an installment of your face at the art museum. People will get suspicious.â
âNot my face,â he says reassuringly. âYour art. Like the ones you used to do.â
And you feel your throat dry up at his words, the exact thing youâd feared coming to fruition.
âI canât,â youâre quick to say.
âWhy not?â
âBecause I donât do those paintings anymore. I can paint you, or another person or whoever. But I canât do one of my old ones.â
âBut your old ones are beautiful,â Hyunjin says. âIt doesnât have to be your old series. You can start a new one. Do something entirely different.â
âI donât want to do something entirely different, Hyunjin. Itâs a chapter of my life thatâs been closed already. You know I donât do those anymore.â
Hyunjin maintains his collected composure, his eyes softening as he speaks to you.
âYouâre not happy doing portraits. I know you. You have a spark in you when youâre painting for yourself, and people love them. You deserve to be doing what you love.â
âIâm sorry,â you say, letting go of Hyunjinâs grasp and shaking your head. âIâm so grateful for the offer, but I canât put myself back out there again.â
âYou can still be anonymous,â Hyunjin offers. âSome artists Iâve sponsored choose to remain anonymous and only reveal to serious patrons of their art. I can make sure they donât find out who you are.â
âItâs me and my art I donât want to be seen,â you emphasize.
Hyunjin doesnât say anything now, rising from the wooden stool and reaching for the iced coffee heâs placed on the table beside you.
âOkay. I wonât press it any further.â
He swirls the cup of ice around in his hand, and then he hangs his head in defeat.
âHyunjin, seriously. Thank you for the offer. Itâs sweet of you to consider it. But Iâm not ready yet.â
He shoves a hand in his pocket and cocks his head slightly.
âIs this because of Quinton?â
âWhat? Hyunjin, I already told you our relationship is strictly professional-â
âNot romantically,â Hyunjin continues. âYouâre like a slave to him. You do everything he tells you to do. He probably doesnât let you leave this studio.
Youâre quiet again, not answering him immediately. No, you donât stay here at Qâs behest. But it just feels safer to follow his advice. He was just a client when you met him, but he took you under his wing to get you where you are now. He runs all your schedules, he books your appointments for you, he even gives his say on most of your work. Heâs the only part of your old life thatâs remained the same, despite your transition to portraits, and cutting him off would be stepping into a world completely unbeknownst to you.
âNo,â you say finally, but you donât expand further upon your stance.
âYouâre so lonely here,â Hyunjin responds frustratedly. âAnd yet you follow orders from the same person whose job it is to keep you invisible.â
âWhy should I follow your orders?â You retort.
âBecause I love you.â
âYou donât love me, Hyunjin,â you reply frustratedly, finally feeling the anger overtake you as you continue your angered speech. âYou love the idea of me. You love the idea of escaping your crazy rich life to try and resolve the tortured artist youâre so infatuated with. You love the idea of fulfilling somebodyâs life with your presence because itâs all you do for a career. Iâm not the person I was when I was doing those paintings- I do portraits now, and I work under somebody who knows whatâs best for me. And youâre just a client Iâm sleeping with.â
Hyunjin purses his lips, amused you would stoop that low for the purposes of declining his offer. And then he shakes his head as he speaks again.
âYouâre right,â he finally says. âIâm just some client youâre sleeping with. I never tried to push you out of this line of work you hate so much, or drew you on every page of my sketch book or made love to you in every square inch of this goddamn studio. Iâm not proposing this because I care about you and I want you to do what you love, itâs because Iâm just a client youâre sleeping with.â
And he pivots on his heel to exit the studio, taking rushed steps toward the door as tears brim the corners of your eyes.
âHyunjin, wait,â you call desperately.
âI see you,â Hyunjin says suddenly, turning around to face you. âI see all of you. Your work didnât just materialize by some anonymous form. Youâre a painter, a really talented one, and I donât want you to feel this all-consuming solitude anymore. I say that because I love you, not just because Iâm sleeping with you. If you want to remain invisible to everybody except Quinton, then be my guest. Just know that I tried.â
And without another word, the studio is empty again, the tip of your brush still dripping with the remnants of the warm brown color and every intention to add a second figure to your painting.
*
You donât speak with Hyunjin any more that evening. Or the next day. Or perhaps for a whole week following the conversation, for that matter. The reality is that you want to partake in his offer, the thought of it candidly piquing your interest to paint something other than another rich man. And it would be nice to watch your art be displayed for people to see just once, rather than to live on the walls of a company where only people within a certain tax bracket will ever grace your work. But what you reiterated to Hyunjin still stands- youâre scared to venture out into the competitive world of art galleries again. Your old series was a hit, sure, but it was also torn down relentlessly by those who didnât understand it and those who simplified it down to its medium. And it was a much harder endeavor to make people understand your watercolor forms, unlike the portraits Q advises you continue producing.
But you canât seem to stop thinking of Hyunjinâs proposal as a whole, understanding very well that his offer is one of the kindest things he could propose to you at this place in your life. He sees you- all of you, and subsequently he knows that youâre unhappy in this monotonous abyss of adding new features to the same faces every day. The way a change for you is determined only by a shift in a clientâs pose or even just an addition of their pet- itâs all so repetitive, exactly what art isnât supposed to be.
Maybe youâre just scared of getting rejected again, or perhaps itâs that youâre scared of finally being seen again, anonymous or not, putting yourself on the map again and being perceived.
*
âI want a painting,â Hyunjin says as he saunters into the studio one evening, throwing off his bag and dragging a stool to the middle of the room.
âOh- Hyunjin, pleased to see you again,â Q remarks, bowing and giving you a nervous look.
Hyunjin doesnât even acknowledge him, keeping a stern gaze locked on yours as if heâs challenging you.
âWe have the evening booked today,â Q begins. âBut Iâm sure we can accommodate something for next week-â
âI need it now,â Hyunjin replies. âIâm willing to pay five times your asking price.â
And you narrow your eyes at Hyunjin, knowing heâs making his best attempt to provoke you and disrupt the work youâre completing per Qâs orders.
âHow do you want it?â Q then asks, not hesitating to put aside your entire evening for Hyunjinâs offer.
âI want to be in a suit. And I want to be holding a wad of cash. I want to look like an investor.â
âInteresting,â Q says, his gaze flickering to yours. âShe can do it though.â
Q turns to face you, giving you a knowing look as he raises his eyebrows. âIâll clear your calendar for today and we can stay and work on this piece.â
And Hyunjin looks to you, too, waiting for you to protest, to say something along the lines of a refusal to partake in the outlandish task. But you avert both of their gazes, readying your paint palette and gesturing to one of the stools in front of you.
âHave a seat,â you say plainly, void of any emotion or desire to fulfill the task. And by the way Q hovers over you, void of autonomy, too, Hyunjin concludes.
âHow are things at the company?â Q asks Hyunjin, leaning in a little too close to you as you begin painting long strokes on the canvas.
âFine,â Hyunjin says, not taking his gaze off yours. His eyes are narrowed like heâs challenging you, yet you donât give him the reaction he searches for.
âYou must be busy,â Q remarks, his hands folded behind his back. âItâs been a while since weâve seen you here.â
âYeah, and Iâm sure youâre running her schedule like the fucking military,â Hyunjin retorts, cocking an eyebrow at him. Q takes a sharp breath, but he doesnât argue, doing his best to keep in line at your highest-paying client.
Hyunjin doesnât say anything, again waiting for you to chime in, but you still donât, working on adding details to Hyunjinâs tresses on the canvas.
âThis will be my final session,â Hyunjin then says, and your head snaps to meet his gaze.
âIs that so?â Q questions. âGoing overseas again?â
âIndefinitely,â Hyunjin replies. âNot overseas, Iâve just no need for the paintings anymore.â
Your lips part as though to ask if heâs serious, but you canât, not with Q here alongside you.
âI have so many of them now,â Hyunjin remarks, not taking his eyes off you. âItâs been a lovely time with the two of you, but I wonât be returning after this evening. I hope you understand.â
âPlease donât hesitate to reach out if thereâs anything we can provide you with,â Q voices. âI hope weâll remain connected with the peers at your company.â
âOh, you will,â Hyunjin replies. âIâm sure the investors and the senior managers will love portraits of their own. Sheâll have a lifetime of portraits to complete when Iâm gone.â
You can feel a pit forming in your stomach, queasy at the thought of carrying on this task of capturing rich businessmen and ceasing your sessions with Hyunjin. Heâs unmoving in his attempts to make you revisit your old art. But his begging has also been eye-opening, making you realize just how much you hate this line of work and having Q breathe down your neck.
Hyunjin has a point, youâre unhappy doing portraits. You love the watercolor figures you paint, you love your time with Hyunjin and the feeling of unending curiosity he instills in you. Thereâs no solitude when heâs around, filling every aspect of your life with such color and vibrancy like the figures you paint. And you learn from him just as much as he learns from you.
But the fear remains, the feeling of hopelessness remains, the perception that Hyunjin is only obsessed with an idea of you and that your career is far gone from the watercolor figures you painted so long ago.
And of course, that you require Qâs uncompromising presence in your life to be even close to successful. Heâs the one who transitioned you to a successful career of portraits after your previous line of work fell through. And youâre not sure you can shift to a new focus without him to guide you.
âHyunjin,â you say suddenly, garnering the attention of both he and Q.
âWhat is it?â Q replies, as though youâre referring to him. And you wish he wouldnât be so⌠disruptive, making you lose your train of thought as Hyunjin waits for your words with bated breath.
âIâve completed the initial outline,â you settle on saying. âIt should be sent over to you in a couple days.â
And he nods, a somber, thin-lipped expression on his face as he understands youâre never going to divert from this path of fear you walk, one youâre forcing yourself to stick to.
âThank you,â Hyunjin responds, getting up to leave again. âIâll see you around.â
*
Private events are seldom actually private for Hyunjin. The interior of the gallery is organized accordingly so that patrons can mingle with their respective artists and all of the prestigious guests invited.
But the exterior is only private up the crowd control stanchions, where beyond it live hordes of people wielding all sorts of fancy cameras and cell phones, snapping photo after photo and analyzing every one of Hyunjinâs movements.
Hyunjinâs attending an art gallery today, the crowds murmur amongst each other, the message echoing all over the city and overshadowing the art itself, which hasnât even been unveiled yet.
His departure from the black limousine he arrives in is met instantly with deafening screams, the repetitive click of camera shutters and commands for him to angle his face every which way. The people stop to stare at his fitted black suit, the long black hair he sports styled slick out of his face and expensive jewelry he flaunts as a clear indicator that heâs a sponsor of the eveningâs show, alongside a long list of other wealthy individuals.
His hands remain tucked in the pockets of his black slacks, giving a gracious bow to the fans before making his way inside to the main event.
And the gallery is significantly more packed than heâs used to, people crowding every square inch of the marbled floors and admiring the intricate pieces of art. The curtains are pulled back neatly so that guests can roam freely among the halls, easels set up in neat rows and canvases mounted on walls to display all the sponsored works of art.
Hyunjin is quick to gravitate to the long white table pushed against the wall by the entrance, set up with generous servings of hors dâoeuvres. And in a bout of nervousness, heâs sampling the cheese platters and the varying flavors of wine, sighing as he swirls a glass of cherry merlot between his slender fingers.
He was supposed to be here sponsoring you tonight, unveiling your paintings for the world to appreciate once again, and so that heâd finally put forth the notion that youâre more than the halls of law offices your portraits exist in.
But that was three weeks ago now- three weeks in which Hyunjin failed to visit you like heâd warned he would. And three weeks in which neither of you reconnected, letting the temporary affair between you dissipate like the sketches he stopped producing of you, like the portraits he finished collecting from you. And like the hope he held onto that maybe youâd come around and entertain a life in which you arenât so comfortable being invisible and inhibited at the hands of your Q. But that never came around, and although Hyunjin is frustrated with you, he misses you just as much, knowing very well he could spend a lifetime learning from you if only you let him. Now in the gallery he once dragged you to, where he admitted to having learned the secret you hid, he can only pray you know that he sees you for who you are, and not some invisible producer of your static portraits. That a life lived in complete solitude doesnât have to be the answer to succumbing to your fears, even if it feels more comfortable than the perception and the critiques of others. And that although the idea of you was a lovely one indeed, he loves every part of you, not just the concept of you- and pushing you to grow was his way of making it known.
The gallery hosts are quick to introduce the paintings and their respective sponsors, a variety of them being under anonymous titles and names as they choose to remain hidden, too. But Hyunjin doesnât wait around to listen to much of it, examining the paintings on his own in between nervous trips to the snack table, where he gets tipsy off a little too much cherry wine. Itâs his first time not being a sponsor to a specific painting, instead having opted to donate a large sum to the gallery in his companyâs name. But after you declined his invitation to be sponsored, Hyunjin didnât see it fit to highlight the work of any other painting. Itâs you he wants to see up there, proudly showing off your work and making a name for yourself in the industry again the way he knows you secretly want to. And he so badly wishes he could stop by your studio one last time to tell you that heâs not sure he can ever sponsor another painting again if itâs not one of yours. Your art circles his mind relentlessly, as do your words, your heart, your body and your real, tangible presence.
âNice, isnât it?â A voice says from beside Hyunjin. He almost jumps, the wine making him a little tired at this point in the evening, not having socialized with many people while he stands in the corner of the room and takes in the sight.
âQuinton?â Hyunjin voices plainly, scowling at his uptight demeanor as he leans against the table beside Hyunjin and crosses his legs.
âSo nice to see our former highest-painting client,â Q responds. âAnd to what do I owe the pleasure?â
âIâve never seen you at one of these,â Hyunjin chimes in. He then looks around the room frantically, thinking maybe youâd accompanied him to the event tonight.
âDonât bother,â Q says, as he takes a sip of wine. âIâm alone. Just scoping out the competition.â
Heâs quiet for a moment, swirling his glass of wine around in his hand before speaking again.
âShe never had a portrait at one of these gallery shows. Said they felt too commercial. Of course her old stuff was shown just about everywhere. I think she was just scared.â
âYou mean- you knew?â Hyunjin questions.
âOf course I knew. I led her careerâs entire rebranding. Of course she didnât love the portraits, but the money came to us like you wouldnât believe. And coupled with her fear of these gallery walks and important figures, we had no choice but to compromise. I got her the opportunity to paint people like you. And she did all the work.â
Hyunjin doesnât say anything for a moment, simply shaking his head and crossing his legs, too.
âShe had a lot of people who believed in her art.â
Q shrugs. âShe was free to walk whenever she wanted. Her fear kept her controlled, not me. Iâm just another businessman for all she cares.â
And Hyunjin gives a small nod, finishing the last of his wine.
âLook, I canât help but feel like I owe you an apology,â Hyunjin says finally. âI was just a little jealous whenever you were around. Not that there was anything going on, I just mean-â
âYou think youâre the first client to have taken a liking to her?â Q interrupts. âIâve seen it a million times. People want to take advantage and they get obsessed, and they start pulling crazy shit like offering five times the pay for a simple portrait.â
Q looks down to examine his leather shoes, adjusting the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose. And then he sighs frustratedly before speaking again.
âI would know,â Q then says, doing his best to avert Hyunjinâs gaze. âSheâs a tough one to crack. She loves her paintings, and being alone and I donât think sheâd ever give the time of day to a good man. Not even if he followed her to her next endeavor.â
Hyunjin nods at the marbled floor, and then his head snaps in the direction of Qâs somber gaze.
The way he speaks of you, the way he gets a little too close to you for Hyunjinâs liking- Hyunjin finally thinks he understands. Itâs not just the fear of being perceived that keeps you from picking up your old life again. Itâs the fear of abandoning Q, who so arrogantly feels like heâs owed something for helping get you back on your feet after you shifted your workâs focus.
Heâs the only other person who knows your secret, and he holds it over you like it makes him more important than anyone else in your life. He reduces you to a lifetime of following his orders, likely because heâs bitter that he was never the solution to your loneliness. A wealthy businessman himself, it was Q who kept returning for paintings once not long ago, accumulating piles of your work and making every last effort to pursue you. But when he wasnât successful, he convinced you that you were right about your fears, that it was your best move to take his advice and heâd keep you turning a generous profit as long as you stuck by him. Q was so hopelessly devoted to an idea of you, and when he couldnât help you overcome your fears, he became the catalyst for your fears, instead.
âYou and I are a lot of the same,â Q voices. âTwo rich men with dreams just out of our reach. It seems money canât buy you everything, after all.â
Hyunjin doesnât say anything, swallowing nervously and looking at Q. And then Q shakes his head as he sets his glass of wine down on the table.
âOnly Iâve never seen her willingly paint the same client so many times the way she does with you,â he finishes. âI guess she really liked being seen, after all.â
Q adjusts his glasses once more, and Hyunjin feels his heart sink at Qâs words, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty for not having contacted you again.
âCould you tell her I stopped by?â Hyunjin inquires.
âMe? Oh no,â Q begins. âI canât get in contact with her. No one can.â
âYou- what? What do you mean?â
âExactly that,â Q responds. âShe told me she was done, and she walked out on me with a single watercolor palette and a notepad. She didnât say anything else.â
âDid she say where she was going?â Hyunjin interrupts to ask, and Q shakes his head.
âShe just left, and itâs been almost a month and sheâs still MIA. Maybe sheâll come crawling back when she needs another rebranding.â
Hyunjin can feel his heart sinking deeper and deeper with every passing word that leaves Qâs lips.
Heâs tried your cell phone- twice since leaving, and you never answered. But he assumed it to be a fleeting argument that would eventually make amends in due time when he could stomach visiting the studio again- not you running away from all of this for good.
âI have to go,â Hyunjin says frantically, chugging the rest of his wine and slamming his glass on the table.
âIt was me who found her the first time,â Q says, not taking his eyes off the art across the room.
âWhat?â
âIt was me who chased after her. After she disappeared. Donât be surprised if she shuts you out when you finally do find her- I think Iâve already scarred her enough with my relentless attempts at persuasion.â
Hyunjin nods nervously, watching as Q cocks his head at the art, still averting Hyunjinâs gaze. And when he finally does turn to look at him, his eyes are glossy with tears, guilt painting every feature on his face.
âCould you just tell her Iâm sorry?â
Hyunjin nods, though he makes no verbal promise to relay the message to you.
âDonât do what I did,â Q emphasizes. âI think youâre the one person who makes her feel like art, herself. Donât ruin this.â
*
âI forgot my ID today,â Hyunjin remarks to the security guard in the late hours of the evening. Heâs met with a gracious bow, the same security guard opening the door and ushering him inside anyway.
âDonât worry about it. Take as long as you need.â
The security guards all know Hyunjin very well now, taking note of the way his visits increased tenfold following your departure from the city.
At first he felt as though maybe he was searching for you when heâd come out here, any ounce of proof that you had indeed existed the way he remembered, and hopeful for the confirmation that you moved on to something new.
But as paintings cycled through their respective artists, and exhibits cycled through varying themes, it was a confirmation he never received, never finding a hint of you among the gallery. Thus, Hyunjin drew the hopeful conclusion that youâd escaped to a nicer city, worked on your old paintings again and made a new life for yourself, independently instead of under the overbearing presence of any other man. Itâs what he wishes, at least, feeling disheartened every time he remembers youâve very seldom lived any part of your professional career for yourself only.
The gallery is quiet at this hour, akin to the silent gray evening beyond its walls, and Hyunjinâs shoes squeak along the floors as he makes his way over to the curtains that veil the artwork.
New sculptures, by the same artist who had formed the paper mache ones. These ones are formed from wire and clay, the figures once again embracing each other in tender touches and dances. Hyunjin studies every careful bend and arch, making a mental note to sketch some of them when he gets a chance.
Another room houses a similar spread of modern art from before, these ones all coinciding with the warm lighting that hangs overhead, strokes along the canvases all housing similar warm-toned hues. He knows youâd love this installment and its careful attention to making use of color.
And the last room, the same little room behind a curtain, a small bench in front of a colossal canvas and just barely lit for his eyes to make out the scene.
Hyunjinâs seated before he can even examine the artwork, squinting carefully at the painting to get a better look. He even makes a conscious decision to put on his black frame glasses, making every attempt to get a proper look at the artwork in front of him.
Diluted hues of paint and water dance along the canvas, figured outlines heâs very familiar with, and the essence of solitude radiating from every brush stroke. Only this one isnât one figure- itâs two, a warm-toned figure and a cool-toned outline holding each other in a tender embrace, their faces indistinguishable, true to the mystery of your work.
And between them, bright hues of paint, yellows, blues, magentas, fantastic mixtures of chartreuse and vermillion, all painted like brush strokes along their yearning bodies and illustrating a profound sense of togetherness, much more robust than the ever-present solitude.
âVisions of you in solitude,â reads the small bronze beneath the canvas.
As he cocks his head to make sense of the painting, he feels the leather of the bench dip beside him, indicating the presence of another patron. And at this hour, he doesnât need to turn his head to understand who it is.
âThereâs two,â Hyunjin says with a small smile, not averting his gaze from the painting.
âIt felt incomplete without one.â
âIs thatâŚâ
âYou?â You question quietly.
He nods in response, eyes scanning the swatches of paint between their bodies. It has to be me, he thinks. It has to be us.
âMaybe it is,â you reply. âI donât disclose my processes to just about anyone. But youâre welcome to make your assumptions how you see fit.â
Hyunjin gives a breathy chuckle, finally turning to meet your gaze.
You look lighter- happier, as though you have the weight of your fears and reservations off your shoulders for once. Hyunjin canât help but lean a little closer into you before stopping himself, knowing he canât come in here to mirror the same thing Q once did long ago.
âYouâre doing galleries,â he settles on saying.
âAnd they scare the hell out of me,â you respond, huffing a little at the end of your sentence. âBut, it is nice to be seen again.â
He gives a little nod, and then his mind goes back to Q, who had asked to relay his version of an apology to you. But Hyunjin hesitates to speak of him, not wanting to taint your new art with the mentions of the old businessmen who took advantage of you.
âIâd have kept my distance if I knew how this went down the first time,â Hyunjin explains, hoping youâll get what he implies. âIt wasnât fair of me to ask you to shift your focus. I just wanted you to be happy.â
You sigh for a moment, scanning the painting across from you, too, before turning to speak to him once more.
âOf all the clients Iâve painted, you were the first to ask about my vision. I think you do see me. And I think it was easier to say you loved an idea of me, because I couldnât understand why youâd love any other part.â
Hyunjin nods, not taking his eyes off of yours.
âI learn from you the same way you learned from me,â you continue. âAnd you make me feel so seen. But Iâm learning how to do that without needing you, too. Getting comfortable with my loneliness, I donât think itâs something I was able to practice very much. At least not withâŚâ
Hyunjin nods, not needing to hear Qâs name to know who you speak of.
âI understand,â Hyunjin voices. âAnd I want you to take all the time that you need. What matters is that you feel fulfilled, and that youâre not being pushed at the hands of somebody else. Thatâs more than enough for me to love you at a distance.â
And you nod at him, your heart swelling at his words as he turns to look back at the painting once more. The two of you stay there like that for several minutes, observing the way youâve so carefully captured the togetherness you feel when youâre beside him. Swatches of paints that echo the color he brings into your life, and yet rooted in the solitude youâre still learning to be comfortable with. Visions of him in your own solitude, also creating a version of yourself that will continue to learn from him as much as he learns from you. And still art at the hands of him, both when youâre loving him wholly, and at this comfortable distance from each other.
And by the summer months, heâll love you at a close proximity when youâre ready again, exchanging passionate embraces behind the curtains at galleries and making love to you in your shared apartment. Heâll continue to draw for you, and remain the biggest fan of the two-piece figures you illustrate with watercolors, capturing the same sense of togetherness and yet unwavering solitude that comes with breaking yourself down to the world around you. And the love will be reciprocated unconditionally by you, who finally feels seen at the hands of somebody who perceives you beyond just a concept.
But for now, heâll remain right here, at this comfortable distance, allowing himself to learn from you as much as you learn from him. And the love will be undemanding, but it will be real, tangible.
guys idrk my way around tumblr like that and Iâm like rlly new so if u wanna be in my tagged list then feel free to put it in my ask or like/reply to this post! Also if yâall wanna give me tips on how to make my acc better or anything like that feel free! Love u angels <3
your boyfriend of 2 years, choi beomgyu, dumps you out of nowhere! oh, and did i forget to mention that he's also a rising indie musician? now you're left with a broken heart, and a spotify streaming history full of his songs. this year's spotify wrapped should be interesting...
one â spotify wrapped release (suicide postponed!!)
warnings! â mentions of drinking, profanity, lana del rey slander lol (its not srs i do like her music!), ignore timestamps!
masterlist â two
note: it's starting!!!!! also i should mention that ningning n y/n r roommates, n tyunning r roommates! notes, reblogs, feedback always appreciated, my askbox is always open so u can talk to me any time ^^