Hwang Hyunjin Smut - Blog Posts

hey Green, i’ve just come from the Lee Know one shot you wrote and i’ve already read some of your other works and i’m in love! i see you also write smut so i was wondering if you could write something with Hyunjin? tbh i was thinking of something like it’s the first time he and the reader (fem!) make love, not like losing their virginity or anything. they’re both adults but they’ve been dating for a bit and feel ready for this next part? maybe add a bit of awkwardness to add a bit of realism to it?

if not, totally okay! i just love your writing!

also, a little side note..can i be 🌪️ anon? is that weird? i’m sorry!

Hello 🌪️! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this but I hope you enjoy it! This took me a while to complete purely because I couldn’t figure out the pacing of it, but I’m finally satisfied with it and I hope you’ll be as well! This was genuinely such a fun request, though, and I feel like a lot of people don't really talk about how lowkey awkward it can be when you're having sex with someone for the first time — regardless of whether either of you are virgins or not, and also regardless of how much chemistry you have with them! Sex doesn't follow a specific guide that everyone enjoys, so it can sometimes take a little bit of trial and error until you figure out what your partner likes and what they don't. We also should always consider the anxiety that a lot of people experience right before as well as during, which can often mess up their performance, which is totally okay!

Anyway, sorry for the mini-rant, I just feel like these are things that should be normalized! Especially when it comes to writing since a lot of these (wonderful, might I add) authors glorify the idea of first time you have sex with your partner goes absolutely perfect. It doesn't mean that it never happens, but it's important to also know this. Okay, seriously, moving on — thank you for your support! <3

Please feel free to send me other requests or asks and I promise I'll try to do better about responding! Again, sorry it took me so long! ── ( 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 )

🌧️ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍-𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 🌧️

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 4.5k

🌧️ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍-𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ( stray kids )

❛ On a rainy evening, a deepening connection unfolds between you and Hyunjin as you explore your newfound intimacy in the cozy sanctuary of your studio apartment. Amidst clumsy yet heartfelt moments, your bond blossoms into a magical dance of tenderness and desire, celebrated under the gentle rhythm of the falling rain.

𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 18 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested a little bit ago by my lovely 🌪️ Anon! I genuinely loved working on this purely for the awkwardness between Y/N and Hyunjin. I just feel like this is something that is not talked about enough, especially within the writing community. It's completely normal to be a bit clumsy and/or awkward the first time you have sex with someone — it doesn't mean that you or your partner is a virgin or is bad at it! Everyone's tastes when it comes to this is different so it might take a second to figure your partner out! And that's totally okay! Alright, anyway, requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, established relationship, it's first time Hyunjin fingers you, neither of you are virgins, it's awkward and a little clumsy at the beginning, very fluffy, please let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

It had been a Saturday to remember, one that etched itself into the tapestry of your memories, marked by the presence of Hyunjin. His charismatic charm had woven itself through your days for the past month, casting a spell of enchantment that lingered in the air. Though the span of time you had spent together might appear fleeting in the grand scheme of things, it felt as if you had experienced an entire lifetime’s worth of moments within those precious weeks.

Each shared glance carried the weight of a thousand unspoken words, creating a silent dialogue that only the two of you understood. Every burst of laughter echoed like a melody, resonating with joy and warmth that filled the spaces between you. The conversations you shared, whether deep and contemplative or light and whimsical, wove a rich tapestry of connection that seemed to transcend the mere passage of days.

It was as though time itself had bent and stretched to accommodate the depth of your interactions. The moments you spent together, whether walking hand in hand through sun-dappled streets or sharing quiet, emotionally intimate evenings under a canopy of stars, left you with the impression that you had journeyed through countless experiences together in just a short while. The intensity of your bond created a sense of timelessness, making each day feel like a chapter in a beautifully unfolding story.

The day dawned under the crisp, invigorating light of morning, painting the world in hues of possibility. Hyunjin stood eagerly by your front door, his eyes sparkling with anticipation and a smile that promised adventure. The air was charged with the excitement of a day uncharted, a journey waiting to unfold as you both boarded the train bound for the newly opened museum.

As the train carried you toward your destination, a sense of exhilaration grew, mingling with the rhythmic clatter of the tracks. The cityscape blurred past, a fleeting backdrop to the conversation and laughter that filled the space between you. Upon arrival, the museum revealed itself as a grand sanctuary of artistry and history, its towering facade inviting you into a world where time seemed to stand still.

Stepping inside, you were enveloped by the cool, hushed atmosphere of the museum, a place where every corner promised discovery. The labyrinthine halls stretched out before you, each exhibit unfolding like a new chapter in your shared journey. Vibrant paintings, intricate sculptures, and ancient artifacts beckoned you closer, igniting lively discussions and thoughtful reflections. With every step, you meandered through galleries side by side, your connection deepening as you shared insights and marvels.

The experience felt timeless, an effortless immersion into a realm of creativity and wonder. You lost yourselves in the stories etched into each piece, the artistry that transcended the mundane and spoke directly to your souls. The hours slipped by unnoticed, each moment adding a brushstroke to the canvas of your day, painting a picture of shared exploration and discovery. In that museum, amidst the echoes of history and the whispers of creativity, you found not only a deeper understanding of the world but also of each other.

After immersing yourselves in the museum's artistic treasures, you both boarded the train once more, the thrill of the day still crackling in the air between you. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks beneath you seemed to echo the excitement of the adventure that awaited. Your destination was your favorite restaurant, a cherished haven where comfort and familiarity wove seamlessly into the fabric of its ambiance.

Upon arrival, the restaurant greeted you with its warm, inviting glow. Soft light spilled from hanging fixtures, casting a gentle radiance over the rustic wooden tables and cushioned chairs. The scent of savory dishes wafted through the air, mingling with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked bread. As you settled into your seats, the meal became more than just sustenance; it transformed into a canvas for laughter and playful banter.

Each dish that arrived at your table seemed to serve as a catalyst for shared stories and inside jokes. The vibrant colors of the food mirrored the lively exchange between you, as conversations flowed effortlessly alongside bites of deliciously crafted dishes. The restaurant’s lively bustle provided a vibrant backdrop, its hum of chatter and clinking of cutlery blending into the symphony of your shared experience.

The meal, rich with flavor and affection, was more than a mere dining experience; it was an extension of the day's joy and companionship. With each course, you both found yourselves drawn closer, the savory dishes a tangible reflection of the deepening bond between you. As you enjoyed each bite, the connection you had forged earlier in the museum seemed to be solidified, the warmth of the food and the ambiance merging to create a perfect continuation of the day's adventures.

Adjacent to the restaurant stood a quaint psychic shop, its sign casting a gentle, ethereal glow that beckoned with an almost magnetic allure. The delicate, swirling script on the sign seemed to whisper promises of mysteries and hidden truths, igniting a spark of curiosity within both of you. Driven by a shared sense of adventure and intrigue, you decided to venture inside, stepping into a world that seemed to hold its breath in anticipation.

The interior of the shop was a treasure trove of curiosities. Dimly lit by the soft flicker of candlelight, the space was adorned with richly embroidered tapestries and shelves brimming with intriguing artifacts. The air was tinged with the heady fragrance of incense, mingling with the faint aroma of old parchment and aromatic herbs. In the center of this enigmatic realm sat the psychic, her presence as compelling as the surroundings.

Her gaze was shrouded in an enigmatic aura as she performed the reading, her eyes glimmering with an inscrutable wisdom. As she declared with a knowing smile that you and Hyunjin were soulmates, her words seemed to reverberate with an almost palpable magic. The statement hung in the air like a delicate thread, weaving itself into the fabric of your shared experience.

The psychic’s cryptic smile was met with a blend of surprise and shyness on your faces. A soft blush crept across both your cheeks, accentuating the nervous laughter that bubbled up between you. Each of you cast furtive glances away, caught between a fluttering sense of embarrassment and an exhilarating hint of delight. The moment felt like a secret dance, a playful intimacy that hung between you, adding a layer of enchantment to the day. The encounter at the psychic shop became a cherished memory, a touch of magic that lingered like a sweet aftertaste, enriching the tapestry of your shared adventure.

As the evening unfurled, you both returned to the serene sanctuary of your cozy studio apartment. The tranquility of the space embraced you like a warm hug, with the soft, rhythmic purring of your cat—curled contentedly on the nightstand—embodying the essence of home’s simple pleasures. The room was gently illuminated by the soft, golden glow of the lamp, casting a soothing radiance that seemed to enhance the peaceful ambiance.

In this haven of calm, you set about preparing warm tea for both of you. The aroma of the brewing tea leaves mingled with the subtle scent of the evening, creating an olfactory embrace that complemented the warmth of the space. As you poured the steaming liquid into delicate cups, the gentle clinking of porcelain was a soft, melodious counterpoint to the quietude surrounding you.

The conversation that followed was a tender and intimate exchange, your voices barely rising above hushed whispers as you both savored the serene atmosphere of the moment. Each word shared was like a caress, adding to the richness of your connection. Cradling your tea cups in your hands, you both reveled in a profound sense of contentment, the day’s adventures seamlessly blending into the gentle comfort of your shared refuge.

The evening unfolded as a quiet yet significant culmination of laughter, connection, and deepening bonds. The day’s escapades, full of vivid experiences and cherished moments, seemed to melt into the soft, welcoming embrace of your studio. This tranquil conclusion transformed the day into a cherished memory, a treasured chapter that would linger tenderly in your hearts.

As the night wore on, the rain began to fall in a steady, soothing rhythm, each droplet creating a symphony of tranquility against the windows. The gentle patter of the rain became a serene backdrop to the evening's unfolding events, wrapping your world in a cocoon of calm. Within the comforting familiarity of your bedroom, the atmosphere was imbued with a sense of warmth and intimacy.

You extended an invitation to Hyunjin, offering him a place beside you on the bed, a gesture that had become second nature over the short time you’ve been together. Yet tonight carried a different energy, a palpable shift that neither of you could ignore—evident in the way Hyunjin’s heavy eyes followed your every move. The ambiance was charged with an emerging affection, an electric undercurrent that seemed to hum softly in the space between you.

Each fleeting glance you shared was laden with unspoken emotions, eyes conveying what words could not. The subtle brush of skin against skin felt like sparks igniting a fire, each touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Your quiet conversations, spoken in hushed tones, wove a delicate tapestry of words and sentiments, each one deepening the connection you felt.

In the stillness of your home, every moment seemed to heighten the sense of anticipation. The rain's gentle cadence matched the rhythm of your hearts, beating in sync as if to the same unspoken melody. The space between you felt charged, a magnetic pull drawing you closer to a deeper intimacy that was steadily approaching, its arrival inevitable and eagerly awaited.

The night continued to unfold in this gentle yet intense dance of emotions, the rain outside acting as a serenade to your evolving bond while you prepared your bed for the night. Each moment spent together was a testament to the growing affection that had blossomed between you, transforming the ordinary into something exquisitely profound. In that cozy sanctuary, under the spell of the night and the rain, you both felt the irresistible pull toward a connection that promised to be as enduring as the rhythmic rain itself.

The tension between you both thickened as you handed him a t-shirt he had intentionally left behind during a previous visit. The fabric of the shirt, worn soft and familiar, passed from your hands to his with a weight that seemed to carry unspoken significance. As soon as he grasped the shirt, a spark of unspoken urgency ignited between you. His lips met yours with a fervor that had been quietly simmering throughout the day, an electric connection that surged with the intensity of all the emotions you had harbored.

The kiss was a profound mingling of longing and desire, a tangible culmination of the feelings that had been building in the quiet spaces between you. It was as if the very essence of the day’s shared moments converged in this single, impassioned exchange. 

Even amidst this deep connection, an endearing awkwardness lingered in the air. As you both clumsily undressed each other, your movements were hesitant and unpracticed, yet brimming with sincerity. Nervous laughter bubbled up between you, a symphony of shared amusement that softened the intensity of the moment. Your hands fumbled gently, each touch a mix of tender care and uncoordinated eagerness, creating a dance of intimacy that was both innocent and heartfelt.

Your gaze remained locked on his dazed eyes, the unspoken emotions between you speaking volumes. Every brush of your fingers, every accidental graze, was charged with a sense of wonder and discovery. The garments fell away piece by piece, leaving you both in only your underwear, vulnerable and exposed yet completely at ease in each other's presence.

The path to the bed was a journey marked by stumbles and shared glances. Each step was a testament to the raw and unrefined nature of your intimacy, a beautiful reminder of the genuine connection you were forging. The nervous energy between you added a layer of charm to the moment, making each interaction feel even more precious.

As you finally reached the bed, the clumsy yet heartfelt nature of your movements only served to deepen the bond you were creating. The tender moments of hesitation and the bursts of laughter wove together, forming a tapestry of intimacy that was uniquely your own. In the gentle embrace of the night, surrounded by the quiet rhythm of your shared breaths, you both discovered a profound sense of closeness that transcended the physical, creating a memory that would linger long after the night had ended.

This clumsy yet heartfelt interaction only added to the night's charm, weaving an intricate tapestry of shared experience. Every hesitant touch, each nervous laugh, became a delicate thread, binding you closer together. As he settled between your legs, the intimacy of the moment deepened, turning every interaction into a genuine and endearing part of your growing bond.

A breathy moan escapes your lips as Hyunjin's kisses trace a delicate path along your jaw, each touch igniting a spark of electricity. When he reaches the sensitive spot just below your ear, a shiver runs through you, heightening your senses. This reaction seemed to bolster his confidence, and with gentle yet assertive hands, he guided you to lay back on the bed.

As you sink into the soft embrace of the mattress, his mouth works its magic, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Each kiss, each caress is a jolt of pure electricity, making your heart race and your breath hitch. The intensity of his touch leaves you yearning for more, each moment an exquisite blend of anticipation and ecstasy.

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, craving the warmth and intimacy of his presence. As he continues his descent, his mouth finds your hardened nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect symphony of pleasure that leaves you arching your back, pressing yourself against him.

In this intimate dance, every movement feels deliberate and profound, each touch a testament to the deep connection you share. The room around you fades into obscurity, leaving only the two of you in a world of your own creation, where time stands still and nothing exists except the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies entwined.

His kisses, like whispers of fire, trail across your skin, igniting every nerve ending with a burning desire. The magic of his mouth, the gentle yet insistent way he explores your body, leaves you trembling with need. Every breathy moan, every gasp of pleasure, becomes a part of this beautiful symphony, resonating in the quiet sanctuary of your shared space.

Your hands find the courage to wander, fingers trembling with anticipation as they begin their exploration. Every touch is an act of reverence, a slow and deliberate journey to memorize the curves and contours of his lean body. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you.

As your hands glide over his torso, you savor the feeling of his defined muscles, each movement a tactile symphony. Your fingertips dance over his chest, tracing the lines of his pecs before drifting down to his abs. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch is mesmerizing, drawing you deeper into the intimate connection you share.

When your hands finally reach his abs, you slow your pace, allowing yourself to fully appreciate the sculpted firmness beneath your palms. The tension in his muscles, the way they contract and relax with each breath, is a testament to his strength and beauty. Your touch becomes more deliberate, a silent communication of desire and admiration.

As you move lower, your fingers find his hardened core, and a breathy groan escapes his lips. The sound is intoxicating, a blend of need and pleasure that fuels your own arousal. He pushes his hips into your hand eagerly, a wordless plea for more, and you can't help but chuckle lightly at his neediness. There's something incredibly endearing about the way he responds to your touch, a vulnerability that makes him even more irresistible.

His groan resonates in the quiet room, mingling with the rhythm of your shared breaths. The intensity of his reaction sends a thrill through you, a heady mix of power and tenderness. As your hand continues to caress him, you revel in the connection between you, the unspoken language of touch and desire that binds you together.

The moment stretches into eternity, every touch, every sound, deepening the bond you share. The intimacy of your exploration, the way your hands map the landscape of his body, becomes a testament to the growing love between you. In this private sanctuary, you find a profound sense of fulfillment, a beautiful merging of souls that transcends the physical and touches the very essence of your being.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been waiting for so long to have this moment with you,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice a soft whisper against the backdrop of your shared breath. His words hang in the air, delicate and poignant, carrying the weight of anticipation and longing. You can see the depth of his emotions reflected in his eyes, a swirling sea of vulnerability and desire that makes your heart ache with a tender ache. The sincerity in his voice, the quiet urgency, speaks volumes about the unspoken yearning that has built up between you.

His words touched you deeply, a wave of emotion washing over you as you absorbed the sincerity in his voice. With a soft, reassuring smile, your hands left his already leaking length, the warmth of his arousal lingering on your fingertips. You reached up, fingers threading through his long, silken hair, feeling its softness and reveling in the intimacy of the gesture.

"Don’t ever apologize, Hyune," you whispered, your voice filled with affection and reassurance. "You’re being wonderful."

Your fingers continued their gentle journey through his hair, each stroke a tender caress that seemed to convey all the emotions you felt. His hair, smooth and luxurious, slipped through your fingers like strands of midnight silk, and you marveled at the way it framed his face, accentuating the depth of his eyes and the curve of his lips.

The two of you lingered in a realm of shared kisses, each one deepening the connection that pulsed between you. What began as gentle explorations quickly evolved into a deliciously messy entanglement of lips and tongues, leaving both of you breathless. Droplets of shared saliva glistened on your mouths, a testament to the fervor with which you embraced each other. Every time your needy cores met, grinding against the thin barrier of fabric that still separated you, a gasp escaped your lips, mingling with his in a symphony of desire.

The friction, though clothed, was a tantalizing prelude to the ecstasy that awaited, a mere glimpse of the pleasure that loomed on the horizon. Each grind, each press of your bodies, sent waves of adrenaline coursing through your veins at an intoxicating speed. It was an addictive rush, leaving you craving more—more of him, more of the sensations that set your skin aflame and made your heart race.

Time seemed to blur, the minutes stretching into an eternity of heated kisses and desperate touches. Your hands roamed freely, memorizing the contours of his body, tracing the lines of his muscles, and committing every inch of him to memory. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared passion—breathy moans, whispered names, and the rhythmic beat of two hearts caught in the throes of desire.

It wasn't long before the intensity of your need became almost unbearable. A soft, desperate whine escaped your lips, a sound that conveyed your longing and frustration. You could feel the slickness between your thighs, a testament to how thoroughly he had aroused you. Your body ached with a deep, insistent need, practically begging him for more.

"Please," you whispered, your voice a soft plea as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. The word hung in the air, heavy with the weight of your desire, and you looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes.

Hyunjin's gaze darkened with a mixture of lust and affection, his breath hitching at the sight of you so vulnerable, so open. He leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, his hands moving to cup your face with a tenderness that made your heart swell. The kiss was both a promise and a reassurance, a silent vow that he would give you everything you craved.

As he pulled back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine. "Anything for you," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that resonated deep within your core.

With a slow, deliberate motion, his hands slid down your body, his touch igniting a trail of fire along your skin. The anticipation built with every second, your senses heightened to a fever pitch. Each brush of his fingers, each lingering touch, was a tantalizing prelude to the ecstasy that awaited. You arched into his touch, your body responding instinctively to the promise of pleasure.

His fingers danced tantalizingly close to your drenched core, skimming over the slick heat but avoiding the sensitive places where you needed him most. The tease was exquisite yet maddening, each near-touch sending shivers of both pleasure and frustration through your body. You could feel the dampness of sweat on your skin, mingling with the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

Mildly frustrated, a soft whimper escaped your lips as you reached down between your intertwined bodies. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, guiding his hand to where you craved his touch. The movement was driven by a mix of urgency and desperation, a silent plea for him to end the sweet torture.

He chuckled lightly at your eagerness, the sound a blend of amusement and affection that reverberated through your chest. The gentle tease in his voice only heightened your desire, making you acutely aware of how much you wanted—needed—him. Despite his amusement, he didn't leave you waiting for long.

His thumb found your clit, the touch electric and precise, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. A gasp left your lips, the sensation intense and immediate. Without warning, his index finger slipped inside you, filling you completely. The sudden intrusion made you yelp in surprise, your body arching into his touch as a wave of heat surged through you.

He quickly glanced up, his eyes searching yours with a mixture of concern and passion. The thrusts into your core halted, yet he kept his fingers buried deep inside, the sensation still pulsing through you. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice a husky whisper that mingled with the heavy breaths filling the room.

You licked your lips, a slow and deliberate motion, trying to gather your composure amidst the swirling intensity. Your chest rose and fell with each pant, the air thick with anticipation and desire. You nodded, the movement gentle but assured, your body trembling slightly as you held back the urge to grind into his hand. "Yes... just please go slow when you're down there," you whispered, your voice tinged with a blend of need and vulnerability.

His eyes softened at your words, a tender smile curling at the corners of his lips. The connection between you felt almost palpable, a silent understanding that spoke volumes. He nodded in response, his fingers beginning to move once more, but this time with a deliberate slowness that made every touch more intense.

Each movement was a study in restraint, his fingers exploring you with a gentleness that contrasted with the earlier urgency. The deliberate pace allowed you to savor every sensation, the pleasure building in slow, delicious waves. Your body responded instinctively, a soft moan escaping your lips as you felt him delve deeper.

He watched you closely, his gaze unwavering, the concern in his eyes gradually giving way to a renewed desire. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you both, a cocoon of shared trust and passion. His other hand found its way to your hip, holding you steady as he continued his slow, measured rhythm.

The atmosphere in the room shifted, the earlier frenzy giving way to a tender, almost reverent exploration. Your breaths synchronize, each inhale and exhale a testament to the deep connection that had formed between you. His fingers curled inside you, finding that sweet spot that sent shivers down your spine, drawing out gasps and sighs of pleasure.

As he moved, his thumb brushed against your clit with a featherlight touch, sending sparks of electricity through your entire being. The slow pace allowed the pleasure to build gradually, each wave cresting higher than the last. Your hands reached out, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the sensations.

He responded to your touch, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and intense. The world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, every sensation magnified in the cocoon of intimacy you had created. The taste of him, the feel of his fingers, the sound of your mingled breaths—it all wove together into a symphony of pleasure.

You could feel the tension building within you once more, a slow burn that promised an explosive release. The deliberate pace made every touch, every caress, more poignant, the anticipation heightening your arousal. Your body arched into his touch, a silent plea for more, for everything he could give.

His fingers moved with a steady, unerring rhythm, guiding you towards the edge with a skill that made your heart race. The slow, deliberate thrusts were interspersed with gentle caresses, the combination driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Your moans grew louder, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

And then, with a final, deliberate thrust, the tension within you snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in a tidal wave, your body trembling as the orgasm tore through you. You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the small space, your vision blurring as the world dissolved into pure sensation.

He held you through it all, his fingers still moving gently, prolonging the waves of pleasure. The aftershocks rippled through you, leaving you breathless and sated. As the intensity faded, you clung to him, your body still humming with the remnants of ecstasy.

In the aftermath, the room was filled with a quiet, almost sacred, stillness. You looked up at him, your heart full of gratitude and love, knowing that this moment was one of many that you would cherish. The night was a tapestry of shared passion and deep connection, a journey that had only just begun.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

can i request a fwb with hyunjin x male reader? love your stuff 💕💕💕

Hey babe! Your request has been posted! Thank you so much for the support, it was so fun to write! Also, a little side-note: this piece contains agoraphilia, which was not a part of the initial request, but I hope you don't mind it! If you do, please feel free to send me another request and I'll try again! ── ( 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 )

🍿 𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 🍿

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 3.2k

🍿 𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 ( stray kids )

❛ In the hushed shadows of an empty cinema, you and Hyunjin find yourselves doing anything except watch the film.

𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 + male reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.2k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 12 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested by a lovely Anon! It was especially fun to explore the agoraphilia kink and it might or might not have awakened something in me, sorry not sorry. Requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, FWB trope, agoraphilia (the kink related to having sex in a public space), handjob, blowjob, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

The large screen cast a solitary glow in the otherwise dark and empty cinema room, its flickering light the only beacon amidst the shadows. The film, having premiered only a week ago, played out its animated scenes, but your attention was never captured by the vibrant characters or the lively plot. It was the heart of the week, the sun hanging high in the sky outside, and the cinema was hushed in a midday silence. The movie, a colorful tapestry of whimsy designed for children's delight, had been carefully selected by Hyunjin as part of a deliberate plan.

He knew that a matinee showing of a children's film would ensure privacy, a quiet refuge from the bustling world outside. The choice spoke volumes of his thoughtfulness, a gesture meant to cocoon you both in a rare moment of undisturbed togetherness. The dim ambiance and the occasional laughter from the screen seemed distant, like echoes in a cavern, as the true magic unfolded in the space between your entwined fingers and shared, whispered words.

His hand rested with a gentle weight on your upper thigh, a touch that felt both grounding and electric. Though his gaze appeared firmly fixed on the screen ahead, you could sense the unspoken intentions behind his seemingly casual posture. His fingers, warm and slightly calloused, felt like they were weaving a spell of anticipation and desire.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt him inch just a fraction closer to your already eager core, a subtle yet powerful movement that sent ripples of longing through your body. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the flickering light from the screen casting playful shadows across his face. His smirk, a tantalizing curve at the corners of his lips, told you he was fully aware of the effect he had on you. It was a dance of silent communication, a game of tension and teasing that left you breathless and wanting more.

The room seemed to shrink, the outside world fading into oblivion as every fiber of your being focused on the closeness of his touch and the promise of what it held. The distant sounds of the film became a mere backdrop to the intimate symphony of your shared moment, each second stretched out, dripping with delicious anticipation. His smirk deepened as he felt your reaction, a silent victory that only fueled the fire between you both.

It wasn’t long before Hyunjin’s hand found its way to the apex of your thighs, pressing firmly against your clothed core. The sensation was immediate and overwhelming, and suddenly breathing felt like a conscious effort rather than a natural reflex. Each inhalation was shallow, your chest rising and falling in a rhythm dictated by his tantalizing touch.

Your hands clung to the armrests of your seat, knuckles white with the force of your grip, as your body involuntarily arched and buckled against his hand. The need for more, for deeper contact, pulsed through you, a throbbing ache that begged for release. Hyunjin, sensing your desperation, was unreserved in his approach, his fingers moving with practiced skill as they massaged your length through the fabric of your jeans.

The roughness of the denim contrasted deliciously with the tenderness of his caress, each movement sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, a fire stoked by his every motion. From the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the outline of his own arousal, straining against the confines of his pants. The sight sent a jolt of satisfaction through you, feeding your ego and heightening the intensity of the moment.

In the dim, secluded theater, with only the flickering light of the screen to witness your secret encounter, the world outside ceased to exist. Each touch, each whisper of movement, was magnified in the hushed silence. Hyunjin’s breath, warm and shallow, mingled with yours, creating a private symphony of shared desire. His eyes, dark and intense, flickered with a mix of mischief and ardor, reflecting the storm of emotions that raged within you both.

There was never any kissing between the two of you, no trace of affection mingled with the deeply intimate actions that had become your shared ritual. Lips never met in tender embrace, and there were no soft whispers of endearment. Instead, the connection you forged was raw and elemental, stripped of the frills of romance. Behind closed doors and within the shadows of dimly lit rooms, you found a thrilling liberation in the mutual use of each other’s bodies. Each encounter was a secret symphony of touch and sensation, free from the constraints of emotional entanglement.

The exhilaration of this clandestine arrangement was a heady intoxication, a rush of adrenaline that coursed through your veins each and every time. The absence of romantic gestures and the lack of emotional responsibility created a unique and intoxicating blend of freedom and anticipation. You both existed in a world where the only currency was the explicit pleasure you pursued together, a hedonistic exchange that left no room for the complexities of caring beyond the immediate moment.

This arrangement, devoid of conventional intimacy, was pure bliss—a potent addiction that occupied your thoughts through every waking moment. The craving for these encounters became an ever-present undercurrent in your daily life, a hunger that only grew stronger with each rendezvous. The physical connection, unburdened by the expectations of love or the weight of emotional commitment, was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could lose yourselves in the primal joy of unrestrained passion.

Each touch, each breathless moment, was a testament to the unique bond you shared—one that thrived in the dark, away from the scrutinizing eyes of the world. The thrill of secrecy, the raw, unfiltered pleasure, was an addiction that neither of you could resist. It was a dance of shadows and light, a tantalizing game that blurred the lines between reality and desire, leaving you both perpetually yearning for the next encounter.

Growing weary of the languid touches that teased more than satisfied, you decided to seize control from Hyunjin. Your fingers, light and teasing, trailed a deliberate path up to his painfully hard arousal. The unexpected contact elicited a raw, unguarded moan from his plump lips, his eyes flashing with a mixture of surprise and irritation. Yet, his glare only made you chuckle softly, a sound that vibrated with quiet confidence and amusement.

Determined to unravel him with your touch, you felt a rising tide of desperation to see him surrender. Your movements became more purposeful, almost urgent, as you deftly tugged his pants and underwear down just enough to liberate his beautiful, aching member. The sight of him laid bare before you sent a thrill through your veins, your own need intensifying at the vision of his vulnerability.

Hyunjin sighed in relief, the tension momentarily ebbing away, only to be replaced by a darker, more intense gaze. His eyes, heavy with desire, watched as you surveyed the dimly lit cinema room, ensuring your clandestine encounter remained undisturbed. Satisfied that you were alone, you slowly sank to your knees between his legs, the anticipation of what was to come heightening the electricity in the air.

The dim glow of the screen cast ethereal shadows over your form, accentuating the intimate tableau you created together. Hyunjin’s breath hitched, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent acknowledgment of your shared hunger and the shifting power dynamic. As you positioned yourself, the world outside the darkened room ceased to exist, leaving only the palpable tension and the promise of exquisite release.

His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, each exhalation a testament to his struggle to maintain composure. Your hands, now steady and confident, moved with a precision born of intimate knowledge, eager to draw out every shiver and gasp. The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unfiltered need, created a cocoon around you both, a sanctuary of desire where every touch, every glance, spoke volumes.

Hyunjin’s quiet moans filled the space, mingling with the distant sounds of the film, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed in the secluded darkness. Your control, your neediness, intertwined seamlessly, crafting a moment of pure, unadulterated passion that left both of you breathless and yearning for more.

Hyunjin was already leaking, a tantalizing sight that made your mouth water with anticipation. The glistening evidence of his arousal only spurred you on, your desire mounting with every passing second. You wrapped your fingers around his throbbing length, feeling the heat and the pulse beneath your touch. Slowly, deliberately, you began to stroke him, each movement measured to draw out his pleasure.

As your hand moved, Hyunjin’s reaction was immediate and intense. He threw his head back, his face a portrait of pure ecstasy. His mouth fell open, a silent cry of pleasure escaping his parted lips, and his eyes squeezed shut as waves of sensation washed over him. The sight of him, so undone by your touch, bolstered your confidence, fueling the fire of your own arousal.

With a surge of boldness, you finally took him into your mouth, the familiar taste and texture igniting a spark within you. You fought to suppress a moan, the urge to vocalize your pleasure nearly overwhelming. The sensation of him filling your mouth, the weight and warmth of him, was intoxicating. You reveled in the control, in the power you wielded over his pleasure.

Hyunjin’s response was visceral. He hissed through clenched teeth, his head snapping forward to watch you. His eyes, dark and intense, were filled with a mix of surprise and unrestrained desire. His brows furrowed, the tension etched across his features, but his jaw remained slack, a testament to his struggle to contain his sounds. The effort to maintain some semblance of control was evident, yet you could see him teetering on the edge, each moment threatening to push him over.

Your movements were slow, deliberate, savoring the taste of him and the way his body responded to your ministrations. The flickering light from the screen played across his face, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his brow, the way his lips trembled with every suppressed sound. The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unfiltered connection, created a heady atmosphere that wrapped around you both.

Every subtle shift of his hips, every strangled breath, fed your own desire. The rhythm you established, the ebb and flow of pleasure, was a dance you both knew well. The darkened cinema room, the backdrop of the distant film, became a world unto itself, where the only reality was the shared ecstasy and the bond forged in the heat of passion.

With each stroke, each gentle suction, you brought him closer to the edge, the anticipation building between you. Hyunjin’s gaze never wavered, locked onto you with a mixture of awe and desperation. The connection, so deeply physical, was underscored by the unspoken understanding that this moment, this exchange of pleasure, was something sacred and profoundly intimate.

It was almost uncanny to experience Hyunjin’s unusual silence. You had grown so accustomed to the symphony of his voice, the way he filled intimate moments with his melodic praises and unrestrained moans. His words, often slurred by the intoxicating waves of pleasure, were a chorus of erotic melodies that resonated deep within you, igniting your own desires. The quiet now was both a stark contrast and a thrilling challenge, a testament to his struggle to maintain control.

Yet, even in his silence, the intensity of his need was unmistakable. His normally expressive self found new ways to convey his desperation, his fingers tangling in your hair with a grip that spoke volumes. The usually tender touch now firm and commanding, guiding your head in a rhythm that matched his urgent desires. The sensation of his fingers fisting your hair, each tug a silent plea for more, sent shivers down your spine.

Hyunjin’s hips began to move with a mind of their own, thrusting to meet the rhythm you established. Each upward motion synchronized with the downward movement of your mouth, creating a perfect harmony of motion and sensation. His normally vocal nature was replaced by a more physical expression of his need, every thrust a wordless cry of pleasure. The quiet, punctuated only by the sound of your movements and his ragged breaths, created an atmosphere thick with unspoken longing.

The flickering light from the screen danced across his face, highlighting the tautness of his jaw and the fire in his eyes. The restraint he showed, the effort to maintain some semblance of composure, made the moment even more electrifying. His usual clinginess, now intensified, was a physical manifestation of his pleasure, his body seeking yours with an almost desperate fervor.

As you moved together, the dance of your intimacy became a testament to your deep connection. Each motion, each shared breath, wove a tapestry of desire that wrapped around you both. The darkened cinema room, once a simple backdrop, now felt like a secret world where only the two of you existed, bound by the intensity of your shared experience.

Hyunjin’s control wavered with each passing second, the struggle evident in the way his body tensed and relaxed in quick succession. The quiet was a fragile thing, threatened by the rising tide of his pleasure. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours, communicating volumes without a single word. The normally eloquent Hyunjin was now a creature of pure sensation, his need for you transcending language.

Every movement, every touch, was a symphony of silent communication, an intricate dance of desire and control. As you continued, the thrill of his intensified clinginess and the unusual quiet created a heady mix, a potent blend of intimacy that left you both breathless and yearning for more.

Your free hand moved to caress his balls, the delicate yet firm touch sending jolts of intensified pleasure through Hyunjin’s already electrified body. The effect was immediate and profound; his actions became increasingly erratic, a beautiful chaos of movement that reflected the storm of sensations you were conjuring within him. His face, a canvas of raw emotion, scrunched up gorgeously in response, each twitch and contortion a testament to the bliss you were eliciting.

As the tension mounted, he leaned forward, his need to be closer to you overwhelming his senses. His movements pushed your nose against his pelvis, the intimacy of the action driving both of you to new heights of arousal. You could feel his release building, a palpable tension that seemed to vibrate through his entire body.

When he finally reached the peak of his pleasure, you felt the hot, thick rush of his release spill down your throat. The sensation was overwhelming, filling your mouth to the point of gagging. The fullness was both a challenge and a thrill, a testament to the depth of your connection and the intensity of the moment. You struggled to breathe, the sheer volume of him making it difficult, but you relished every second of it.

Eventually, Hyunjin’s iron grip on you relaxed, his fingers loosening their hold on your hair. You pulled back, gasping for air, the sudden rush of oxygen a stark contrast to the suffocating fullness you’d just experienced. The cool air on your face and the lingering taste of him in your mouth created a heady mix of sensations that left you reeling.

Hyunjin’s gaze softened, the fierce intensity giving way to a tender vulnerability. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he’d just experienced. You could see the gratitude and the residual pleasure in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection you shared.

The dim light of the cinema cast gentle shadows across his face, highlighting the lingering flush of arousal on his cheeks. The room, once a simple setting, now felt like a sacred space where the boundaries between you had dissolved. Every detail, from the softness of his touch to the taste of his release, was etched into your memory, creating a moment that was both ephemeral and eternal.

As you both recovered, the world outside seemed distant and unimportant. The intimacy of the moment, the raw, unfiltered connection, had created a bubble of reality where only the two of you existed. The echoes of pleasure and the warmth of your shared experience lingered in the air, a promise of more moments like this to come.

Just like that, you returned to your seat, slipping back into the plush cushion as if nothing extraordinary had transpired. With a composed air, you swallowed the lingering evidence of your intimate adventure, the remnants of Hyunjin’s release settling deep within you. The calm facade you wore was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions that had just raged between you.

Beside you, Hyunjin was utterly spent, his chest rising and falling in an effort to catch his breath. His skin glistened faintly under the dim cinema lights, a sheen of sweat marking the intensity of your shared moment. His eyes, still glazed with the remnants of pleasure, never left your figure. The way you appeared so nonchalant, so composed, despite the passionate exchange that had just unfolded, captivated him.

Your core throbbed with a dull, insistent ache, a testament to the desire that still simmered within you. The anticipation of what was to come made it difficult to focus on anything else. You shifted slightly in your seat, the ache intensifying with every subtle movement, a constant reminder of the unfinished business between you.

Hyunjin’s gaze lingered on you, a silent promise of continued pleasure hanging in the air. The unspoken understanding that the fun was far from over added an electric tension to the room. The film continued to play, its plot a distant murmur, overshadowed by the anticipation of what awaited you both once the credits rolled.

As you both sat in the dim light, the world outside the cinema seemed to fade away. The mundane reality of your surroundings contrasted sharply with the charged intimacy you shared. The darkened room, filled with the flickering glow of the screen, became a private haven where your desires could roam free, undisturbed by the outside world.

Hyunjin’s fingers twitched slightly, a subtle indication of his renewed interest. The thought of continuing your escapade in the confines of the car sent a thrill through you, your body responding eagerly to the prospect. The anticipation built steadily, each passing moment bringing you closer to the next chapter of your passionate adventure.

The film’s soundtrack provided a background score to your thoughts, each swell of music mirroring the rising tension between you. Your composure remained intact, but beneath the surface, a tempest of desire brewed, ready to be unleashed once more. Hyunjin’s presence, his proximity, only added fuel to the fire, making the wait both torturous and deliciously exciting.

In that shared silence, the air thick with unsaid words and unmet needs, you both found solace. The bond forged in those stolen moments of pleasure was a testament to the depth of your connection. The promise of what was to come loomed large, a tantalizing prospect that kept you both on the edge, eagerly awaiting the privacy of the car where your desires could be fully realized.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

this felt like reading a long poem about experiencing the intensities of love, yet having the strength and will to choose yourself first and i loved every minute of it.

Visions of You in Solitude

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem reader

W/c: 26.5k

Warnings: erotic painting, mentions of masturbation, sex in a semi-public place (no one is around), breast/nipple play, dry humping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), cum eating, use of pet names, drinking

Synopsis: You were hired to paint him- not fall for him. But intentions quickly shift when Hyunjin finds himself infatuated with you and learns the secrets you harbor.

[this work was based off a request by “🐼” anon - thank you for requesting!]

18+. Mdni!

•

There’s something to be said about the loneliness that comes with being an artist. The repetitive cycle of translating tangibility to canvas or paper in whichever chosen medium. Fleeting muses you draw inspiration from, which quickly become burdensome as you’re faced with them every waking second of your day. Obsession with perfecting your craft, the anxieties that come with criticism of your life’s work and sometimes even succumbing to changing it entirely at the hands of someone else’s advice.

It’s very seldom even your craft at a certain point, only existing to satisfy the visual demands of others and turn a profit when displayed at a show. And it’s certainly not for everyone, not when it’s this lonely and rooted in the discomfort of personal solitude.

*

From this proximity, the blinding white walls that span the perimeter of the waiting room feel like that of a prison’s- coupled with the glossy laminate flooring and glaring white lights, you feel completely entrapped.

“They’re almost ready for you,” your boss says abruptly as he enters the room and occupies the gray folding chair next to you. “You have everything you need?”

Headcount- your black leather briefcase of oil paints, brushes, charcoal, pencils, paint thinner, old rags and your painting palette.

“The canvas is already set up,” your boss chimes in as if he can read your mind. “And there’s a seat for you. Just relax, and don’t push yourself.”

You take a deep breath, doing your best to follow his advice- but a part of you wants to get up and leave, to run away from all of this. Painting is your passion, it’s your forte and it’s been your life’s work for as long as you can remember. But being commissioned like this, for men much richer than money you’ll ever see, it feels suffocating.

They don’t tell you their names these days, nor the name of whatever organization they’re from. Last month it was an elite group of stock investors, the month before, it was a famous violinist from Japan. And today, it’s a male group, eight members with net worths that look like telephone numbers, or so you’ve been told. And it’s not that you’re intimidated, but you do get self-conscious at the prospect of people watching you while you paint. At some point, it’s like you become the model, their eyes boring into your flesh as you paint long strokes across the canvas and order them to hold still.

“Five minutes,” your boss now says, checking the time on his silver watch and adjusting it so that it sits a little higher up on his wrist.

You wish he wouldn’t count the minutes. You wish he’d stay quiet, allow you to sit with your thoughts and ruminate the day ahead of you. And yet he taps his heel in syncopation with the second hand on the clock above you, the echoing click of both driving you up the wall.

“I need a breather,” you state suddenly, sitting up from your chair and smoothing down your smock. “I need to go outside.”

“Three minutes,” he responds sterly, tapping at the glass lens of his watch and motioning to the door.

You shove your way past the double doors, past the white tiled hallway and just in front of the double doors that lead to freedom again. Two minutes.

It’s like your body is giving out on you involuntarily, your knees buckling as you grip the stair railing and steady your breathing. A quick glance around to ensure no one’s caught you heaving so nervously- and you’re too late. A man saunters down the hallway past you, his hands shoved casually in his pockets as he cocks his head to stare at you, his long black hair falling loosely around his shoulders as he does. He’s tall, and slim, with an elongated torso hugged by an expensive denim coat, his slender legs on display in black slacks and complemented by a sharp pair of boots. You don’t catch a very good look at his face, his figure blurring by as you check your watch, to the second now- you’re supposed to be inside.

You waste no more time jogging down the hallway past the figure and back into the waiting room, where your boss is angrily tapping his heel and scanning the room for you.

“There you are,” he says frustratedly. “No more breaks if you can’t manage your time. They’re waiting for us.”

And with a deep breath, he helps you gather your art supplies, motioning in front of you to the brightly lit room. You take one breath, and then two, as you finally begin into the painting room, eight men already seated and ready for you.

*

The crowd is nothing like the stock investors, or the violinists you’re used to. They’re rowdy, and loud. They very seldom sit still, cracking jokes amongst themselves and shoving each other off the wooden stools every other minute. You do your best to keep your gaze away from them when you don’t need to look at them, trying to memorize their features in intervals so you can focus on just the canvas in front of you as you paint. But it’s nearly impossible, their melodic voices pressing you for answers and insights into your artist career.

“What’s the hardest painting you’ve ever done?” One asks, his baritone voice sounding almost startling in contrast to his bright appearance.

“There’s lots,” you reply quietly. “I’m not sure I can pick one.”

You give him a small smile, trying to memorize the freckles on his face before turning back to the canvas, hoping you won’t have to glance back over at him for the next minute or so.

“Let’s take five,” your boss says as he enters the room again, two iced coffees balanced in his hands. “Thanks, guys.”

And the men scatter to their break room, where neat trays of food are already set out for them to choose from. As the doors swing closed behind them, you watch them select from a variety of pre-cooked noodles, assorted fruits and vegetables, packs of chips and trays upon trays of desserts. They’re fed as though they’re the ones doing all the painting.

“Coffee,” Q says, setting down a plastic cup in front of you, the straw already conveniently placed for you.

“Thanks, Quinton.”

Your boss, Quinton, or Q, is a brutally honest man when he wants to be, quick to comment on your work and keep you in your place. He runs your calendar like the military, never missing an important appointment and opting you in for every profitable painting session possible. He’s another thing you find suffocating at the worst of times, always somewhere breathing commands down your neck and dragging you to every private event under the sun.

“Let me see,” Q states plainly, gesturing to the canvas with his cup of coffee. You shyly angle the canvas toward him, hoping he won’t scrutinize anything about your pacing- you’re trying to get out of here as quickly as possible, and you silently pray the art doesn’t reflect that sentiment.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t, swiping a few stray eraser shavings off the canvas and giving you a nod.

“Looks good. Remember, we just need the skin tones and facial features. The clothes and all that can be filled in later with our reference pictures.”

You nod in response, taking a generous sip of your coffee, realizing this is probably the worst beverage you could’ve picked to calm your nerves. The caffeine pulsates through you, making your heart flutter even more than it already is, and the bitter taste leaves little to salivate over.

“How much longer, do you think?” You inquire, chewing on the tip of your straw nervously.

“No more than an hour, if you keep up this pace,” Q responds. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick, have everything ready again for when I get back. Don’t make me wait.”

You watch as he gets up from his own wooden stool, placing his cup of coffee where he sits, and exits the room to the corridor once again.

You’re alone in the painting room, the white sheets that line the floors staring back at you with little eyes in the form of paint splotches. From behind the door, you can still hear the eight men shuffling about, laughing loudly and downing their snacks. And you want to leave again, the feeling instilling another sense of foreignness inside of you. Like you don’t belong here, even though you’re the painter. You feel small, cramped, even useless, as you stare down the painted flesh outlines across from you.

A click of the door closing beside you garners your attention, and you look up expecting Q to return and resume the session. But it’s not Q- it’s the same figure from earlier in the hallway, slowly making his way inside and hoisting himself back up on the wooden stool. He keeps his head down as he gets comfortable again, two hands running through his black hair and slicking it back out of his forehead.

And then he looks at you- or stares, rather, two hands resting on the exposed wood in front of him as his legs balance on the wooden beams below. You can feel his eyes burning into your figure, and you do everything in your power to avert his gaze and keep your eyes locked on the canvas in front of you. But he remains like that, staring, for several minutes, until you nervously tilt your head to catch his gaze.

You feel your heart race as you do, catching a glimpse of his flawless features as he furrows his brows in concentration. His silky black hair isn’t the only striking thing about him- he has piercing brown eyes, which narrow with such intensity as he remains seated there, unmoving and confident in his stance. His plump lips contrast beautifully against his chiseled jawline, and his lanky figure makes him look like the contemporary art statues you’re so acquainted with, like he’s formed from wire and positioned to slouch so artistically in his spot.

You say nothing to the man, opting to give him a little nod, before focusing back on the beverage in your hands. And despite his clear fascination with you, he doesn’t reciprocate, instead pulling a cell phone out of his back pocket and preoccupying himself again.

You can’t quite tell if he’s rude, or strange, or even just unaware that his presence is so uncomfortable when he’s choosing to speak through cold stares instead of words. As you watch him through your peripheral vision, you hear the familiar sound of Q’s boots click through the doorway, gesturing rapidly at you and at the canvas.

“Let’s continue,” he orders, clasping his hands together with such purpose. “Where are they?” Q then questions, his eyes darting over the quiet man’s indifferent posture. And the strange man finally gets up from his stool, making his way through the break room door to usher the others inside once again.

They follow like a row of ducks, back to their respective seats, some of them with drinks in hand as they share whispered laughter amongst themselves and make little effort to sit still. You have no trouble picking up right where you left off, the innate talent to mirror figures in front of you coming in handy as you race the clock to complete their flesh-colored outlines.

Most of them converse lightly amongst each other, holding your gaze with a more serious expression when they catch you looking over at them.

Except for the strange man.

He’s relentless in his ways, continuing to stare so impolitely at you, his eyes piercing daggers right through your soul as he cocks his head to the left, and then the right, studying your face as you study all eight of theirs. What his intentions are exactly, you have no clue, simply opting to avert his gaze when you can and keep busy with your painting.

One hour later, the canvas illustrates all eight outlines of flesh and distinctive features, highlighting the beige freckles on one man’s, the toned biceps of another, and all other features that set them apart from each other. True to Q’s reminder, their clothes are traced in outlines, but color is void of their stencils, as you still have to bring the canvas home to complete the finishing touches. When they’re dismissed for the day, the gentlemen are all led by a sculpted man with a big smile who introduces himself as the leader, orchestrating the bows and applause that are held for you.

And as he ushers them out one by one, the strange man who’s been watching you all day is the last to leave, lingering a little bit too long with his hands shoved in his pockets like he wants to say something. He loiters by the canvas for several minutes, but you make no move to angle the painting at him, usually maintaining a certain extent of confidentiality in your work to keep the surprise.

He seems to take the hint, almost nodding indirectly at you and more toward the wall, as he finally saunters out of the room with his hands still in his pockets, his strides painfully slow as he disappears from your sight.

And when you look back to the painting, you cock your head at his outline, trying to gauge whether your art properly captures the sheer sense of unnerve he instills in you with his features alone.

*

Painting sessions are burdensome. They require a lot of planning ahead of time, stocking up on supplies, scheduling around the hours-long timeframe and of course, the mental preparation of having to be stared at by rich men for several hours.

But perhaps critique sessions are even worse these days.

Your paintings are typically set in stone after the initial outlines, considering there are usually a few important figures who review your work and give you the go ahead to take it home and finish it.

Yet sometimes, you still have people complaining, pointing out unimportant features like the color of their sneakers which aren’t to their liking. It’s normally Q who fights these battles for you, refusing to allow you to make any changes since the payments are made upfront, too. But sometimes, even he caves, ordering you to pull out your briefcase and mix a darker shade of green or add more volume to the subject’s hair.

It’s the worst with investors, who put their audacity at the same level as their incomes. But with boy groups like this, you’re unsure, having never done a painting for a band prior to this one.

The finished canvas is transported in a nylon zip-up bag, held by yourself and Q as you fit it inside the truck and secure it with metal prongs. While the drive there is just an hour long, it feels much longer than the last time you traveled there, perhaps because you’re much more nervous.

And perhaps also, it’s because of the same strange man as last time, who you already know is going to have a mouthful to say. The way he lingered by your work station a little too long, wouldn’t stop staring and even excused himself from his own break early to resume his insufferable task of making you uncomfortable. You reckon it’ll be a comment about his hair, asking for a longer length or more volume. Maybe something about the stage outfit you were presented with and how it doesn’t make his legs look long enough. Or knowing his douchebag tendencies, maybe he won’t hesitate to ask for a fucking bulge in his pants at this point.

When you arrive, Q calls over the building staff to help transport the collosal work of art, while you wait awkwardly on the side with your hands shoved in your pockets. You take a moment to crane your neck and look up at the building, a tall glass monument with blue-tinted windows and cobalt text that displays the company name. It’s just as intimidating as you remembered it, instilling the same unnerving feeling that a hospital might.

When the building staff are finally making their way inside, you follow reluctantly, making yourself as small as possible behind them while they navigate the long blinding corridors. It’s an unusual feeling to be at the top floor of the building that you were just looking up at from the street below, and as you pass the windows that line the hallways, you can make out the rows of cars and people that now resemble ants from this high up. It’s as though you were never down there to begin with, like the world is different from up here, much more secluded and shut-in.

And seeing the pin boards that line the walls, with photos of successful artists and flyers for company events, it very well might be, this haunting building where dreams either go to flourish or decay.

Into the last door on the right, eight chairs lined up for eight artists who definitely seem to have flourished. The building staff set up the canvas at the front of the room, securing it into its wooden easel, and Q occupies himself setting up a recording camera which points directly at the painting and captures all eight chairs in the frame. It’s common protocol for events like these to be filmed, not always for public consumption, but for the staff to archive important commemorative moments in the artist’s name. Once the camera is rolling, Q gives you a thumbs up, gesturing to the staff to permit their exit as you make your way to the front with him.

“Ready?” He asks, clasping his hands together as he eyes the camera nervously. You say nothing in response, giving him a small nod, before taking your spot on the other side of the canvas and folding your hands behind your back.

For a few moments of complete silence, the two of you keep your gazes fixed on the clock that lives on the wall across you, the hands ticking with the passing seconds as you await the arrival of the band. Q turns to say something, seemingly disregarding it as he turns back to the wall and shifts his eyes to the door every few moments.

You wish he wouldn’t be so… anticipatory. You wish he’d just stand there, like a rock, indicating nothing of importance, so that you could put less weight into this and unveil the painting to them without any reservations.

Here’s the painting, you want to say. It took me forever, so don’t criticize it. You guys are shorter than my usual subjects. Except for the weirdo- and he stares too much.

You smile to yourself at the thought of being so candid with them, before an abrupt push of the door startles you, and you instantly straighten your posture at the sounds of boots clicking along the floor, leading the eight men who live on the canvas behind you.

One by one they take their seats, dressed to the nines this time in black slacks and collared button ups. They even flaunt ties, mirroring the businessmen you’re used to painting, and the fancy attire quickly makes you nervous as they fold their hands in their laps and fail to joke around like they did the last time.

“Welcome,” a booming voice says, as other important looking figures stand around the room and eye the covered canvas. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, and we’re eager to see what you’ve come up with.”

Applause fills the room, inclusive of the members of the band, which you finally allow yourself to look at. They sit properly, hands folded in their laps and serious expressions painted on their chiseled faces.

Except for the strange one, again, whose gaze is locked on yours. He cocks an eyebrow curiously, as though you’re the one doing the staring. And you quickly turn your attention back to Q, hoping that disregarding the men will calm your nerves a little.

“… she’s paid particular attention to detail,” Q continues, and you realize you’ve missed half his speech already.

“And we are so excited to hang her work in this renowned building as a commemorative piece for the members. Without further ado, please let’s unveil the artwork.”

As he finishes, two members of the staff tug on the beige cloth, letting it fall to the tiled floor beneath it and expose the giant portrait.

Their faces light up instantly, little “woah’s” filling the room as they rise from their seats to take a better look. They laugh at their own figures, they point out each other's and most of them even pull out their cellphones to snap photos of your art. It’s always a gratifying feeling, having a crowd admire the fruits of your labor this way, especially when you aren’t immediately met with verbal protest against your creative choices.

You take a few steps back to give some room to them, the staff talking amongst themselves and gesturing to the building where you presume they speak about where the painting will live.

“It’s a hit,” Q says, coming around to tap you lightly on the arm. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Quinton,” you respond. “I’m glad everyone enjoys it.”

And the staff applaud you once more, bowing to you and lining up to shake your hand as they begin to file out of the room again.

The members stick around for a good while, unable to take their eyes off the painting as they point out each other's features and admire their own. And as they begin to leave, several of them thank you personally on the way out, giving you a bow and shaking your hand.

“Thank you, really,” the man you remember being the group leader says to you. “We are so honored to have worked on this with you.”

Another clasps your hand in his, bowing several times before speaking. “Seungmin,” he states his name politely. “Thank you, I think you really did our old group leader justice.”

“Hey!” The leader calls, and you can’t help but laugh a little in response.

The others share similar sentiments, bowing and shaking your hand as they exit, chatting excitedly amongst themselves as they make their way down the hall for their next schedule.

And when you turn to face Q, you’re met with the last member, who folds his arms in front of him coldly and eyes the painting with raised eyebrows.

Like clockwork. He doesn’t like it, he’s going to request a change be made to it and he’s going to berate you in front of your own boss.

“It’s nice,” he chimes in casually from where he’s standing.

“Thanks,” you reply, Q gathering the cover from the floor and zipping it up again.

“Just one thing,” he says now, turning to face you.

“Oh, we normally don’t make changes after-”

“I have a freckle under my eye,” he finishes. “The left eye. You didn’t catch it.”

Your eyes scan the painting, where his chiseled face and long hair stare back at you, a serious expression in his eyes like he wears in person. And then you glance at him standing in front of you again, a small brown mole under his left eye, just like he speaks of.

“Go ahead and add it,” Q says, as he zips up the cover. “That should be on there already.”

And you nod your head at both of them, unzipping your briefcase again to retrieve your paints. He’s watching you like a hawk again, towering over your bent figure as you pull out a thin tube of brown paint and squeeze just a miniscule dollop onto the back of your hand. You retrieve your thinnest paint brush, dipping it into the paint and swiping it across your skin to rid the excess from the fine hairs.

It feels as though you have to paint it with his permission, as you bring the brush to his face and glance over at him for instruction. He gestures to his eye, motioning for you to start, as you bring the brush to his canvas flesh and tap on a tiny, single dot.

He stares at it for a moment, cocking his head as though a brown dot somehow won’t be to his liking. And even Q holds his breath while he waits for a comment from the man. You begin to say something, your lips parting silently, stuck on what to remark as you await his feedback. And then with bated breath, he finally speaks, giving a small nod as he does.

“Good,” he says simply. “It’s me now.”

Q nods at him, nods at you, and then gathers your belongings as you cap the loose tube of paint.

“Do you have a card?” The man asks suddenly, and Q pauses his shuffling about to retrieve one from his coat pocket.

“Here’s her card,” he says, against your silent protests. “She’s available for commission any time. Payments are up front and scheduling is through me only.”

The man nods, thumbing the gold foil cardstock in his slender fingers, and then shoves it into the pocket of his slacks.

“Hyunjin,” he says curtly, reaching his hand out to yours. “I’m the main dancer.”

And you just nod, placing your hand in his reluctantly as you shake once.

“Y/n.”

His hands are cold to the touch, the metal of his rings feeling like blocks of ice in your grasp. He holds it there for a moment, his narrowed eyes shooting daggers into yours, before he finally pulls away and pivots to leave with the rest of the band.

And you can only catch a glimpse of the back of his head when he’s halfway out, before Q turns to speak to you.

“Looks like we may be back very soon,” he remarks, latching your briefcase once more. “I’d hold on to that brown paint if I were you.”

*

Exactly four days pass before you hear from Hyunjin again. In fact, you’ve all but forgotten about the little run-in, until Q barges into your studio while you add the finishing touches to another client’s piece.

“I have a proposal for you,” Q voices, setting an iced coffee on the table beside you while you dip your paintbrush in a muddy cup of water.

“What is it?”

“Well financially, a massive opportunity. Career-wise, much of the same thing you’re already doing.”

“Businessmen?” You question, working your paintbrush in thin strokes to add hair to the figure on the canvas.

“Band,” he replies simply. “The same band you did last week. Just one member, though.”

And you know instantly who he speaks of, your face contorting into an expression of disgust as you wash your paint in the cup of water once more.

“Hyunjin?” You query.

“That’s him,” he says, snapping his fingers as the name comes back to him. “He’s offering double what we paid last, and just for an individual piece. That’s a massive markup from what we usually charge.”

“I don’t know,” you reply hesitantly. “I’m pretty busy with this, and we-”

“I already said yes,” he states simply.

“You did? What- I thought this was a proposal.”

“Yeah,” he says with a scoff. “A proposal to get your stuff ready. We start tomorrow. And he wants you to bring every color you’ve got.”

“Tomorrow? Don’t we already have a prior commitment?”

“Already moved them out,” Q says, sitting on the chair across from you.

“Look,” he begins, sighing deeply. “I know you’re hesitant about these things. But this is the best move you can do, career-wise. Painting these famous figures is a gold mine for us. One day you could be commissioned to paint royalty, and then we’ll be reaping three times our salary.”

And you sigh, too, knowing very well that he’s right. Being a painter who gets commissioned to commemorate important characters, you know the best thing you can do for yourself is say yes to every opportunity. You’re very seldom able to, which is why you have Q in the first place. But the prospect of spending another day with Hyunjin scares you, and you’re not sure Q would consider it a legitimate concern if you brought it up to him.

“I’ll be there, too,” Q interrupts, almost as though he can read your mind. “It’s just him. One day, max, and then you can pick up your other projects.”

It doesn’t seem like there will be a way out of this one, no matter how much you pray that things will fall through eventually.

“One day,” you echo. “And then I’m tunnel vision on the rest of my projects.”

*

You can tell Hyunjin’s thought about this very carefully, judging by the way he saunters into the room with purposeful strides and slings a bag off his shoulder.

He’s dressed a little more casually today in a denim jacket and jeans, with layered silver jewelry that contrasts nicely against his jet black hair.

“Like a model headshot, but painted,” he describes his vision to you, gesturing with his hands as he speaks.

“I want it to look really serious. And maybe a cool-toned color palette.”

He’s meticulous with his requests, and you wonder briefly if he dabbles in art, himself.

“Sure, we can do that,” Q responds, jotting down a few points in a small notepad.

You say nothing, letting Q do all the talking, but Hyunjin’s eyes glance over at you briefly like he wants you to acknowledge the request. So you just nod graciously, giving him a thin-lipped smile, and begin to undo your briefcase.

Hyunjin assumes his same spot on one of the wooden stools, dragging it closer to you by its leg and propping it within eye-view of your big canvas. And then he sits on it, or rather slouches, adjusting his gaze to look straight at you and maintain a cold, serious expression.

It’s just as unnerving as you’d remembered it, having this model-looking figure pierce daggers through your soul while you mix your paints- cool-toned ones, at his request, and prepare for the hour-long trek of capturing his essence.

At least you won’t have to talk to him- or so you’d assumed from the last session you completed with him.

“What’s your process like?” He asks, his sultry voice perfectly matching his features.

“Oh,” you remark, mixing a set of paints to mirror his even skin tone. “I don’t know, I just paint what I see.”

He nods, satisfied with your less-than-wordy answer, and then he begins to prod you with more questions.

“What are your favorite art supplies?”

You cock an eyebrow at this, well aware that you have a long list you can indulge him in, but not wanting to share your secrets with this complete stranger.

“I dunno,” you reply softly. “Oil paints, and graphite pencils really.”

Hyunjin nods again, and then he glances at Q, who gives him a thin-lipped smile much like yours, trying his hardest to remain polite with Hyunjin. You know Q is likely frustrated with you for not entertaining this conversation in a more lively manner, especially considering what he paid for this session, but you’re not going to indulge him in anything except painting him- and only for this one session, like you promised Q.

And the rest of the session is uneventful, Hyunjin poking you with questions about your personal favorite paintings or inquiring about a time you messed up on an important piece. All questions which are answered with brief “I don’t know’s” or “there are so many, I can’t choose.”

And although you are trying hard to keep Hyunjin at a distance, nothing seems to faze him, his head nods and little hums serving as indicators of his satisfaction with all of your answers. He doesn’t get pushy, like your other clients often do, and he even presses Q for a few answers as he makes sense of your work.

At just past 5, the session draws to a close, as Hyunjin rises from his stool and announces he has to tend to his evening dance practice.

“It’s nice seeing you again,” Hyunjin says as he approaches you, giving a small bow as Q waits off to the side.

“Thank you,” you voice back, glancing at Q for a push to leave.

And Hyunjin extends a single hand, gesturing for you to place yours in his, as he towers over you with a curious expression.

You reluctantly place your palm in his, letting the cool metal of his rings graze your skin as he clasps his thumbs over your fingers and rubs them in gentle back and forth motions. He doesn’t bring it up for a cordial peck, he doesn’t shake it- he simply caresses your artist hands tenderly, before letting go again and turning to give Q a small bow as well.

“Take care,” Hyunjin says, pivoting to exit the room into the corridor.

And as Q pesters you with orders to clean up your workstation, you examine your own hands, rotating your own fingers around, like they might somehow be changed by his touch.

*

ON HOLD- The notes under your projects on the big calendar in Q’s office read, written in dark red pen and underlined twice across the pages.

You furrow your brows in confusion, setting your bag down as you enter for the day and ready your art supplies.

“What’s going on?” You ask Q, who’s busy sorting through a stack of invoices.

“Have a seat,” he replies plainly, gesturing to one of the leather chairs that accompany his grand wooden desk. And you do, sitting on the very edge of the chair as you await further instruction from him.

“A gift came for you,” Q says, slinging a large box on the desk in front of you.

You stand up once again, peering inside at the myriad of oil paints, sharpened charcoal pencils, new smocks, palettes and even books about artists and their works. You dig through the supplies, heart racing at the expensive choices, feeling undeserving of all the presents the box contains.

“This is all for me?” You question, baffled at the prospect that anybody could care enough about your career to indulge you in such a fine assortment of goods.

“Read the card,” Q then says, his arms folded in front of him as he nods toward the top of the cardboard box, where a simple yellow envelope is taped to the cover, cursive text scribbled on the front. Hyunjin, it reads.

You undo the seal, pulling out the small card inside, which only contains a short, cold sentence, in contrast to the warm gift.

“For the next few”, it says, not so much as a sign off or even a simple “thanks”.

“Next few?” You repeat, meeting Q’s gaze with a confused expression.

Q sighs, sitting across from you, folding his hands out on the wooden surface where you can see them.

“His manager called this morning,” he begins. “And commissioned us for another one. Except this one has a long set of rules. He wants you to use these supplies, he wants to visit your studio instead of occupy the company building. And he specifically asked me not to accompany you.”

“What?” You exclaim, angered at the sheer audacity he has, and knowing very well that you only agreed to one painting.

“That’s completely against our rules,” you continue. “Did you tell him no?”

And Q gives you a sheepish grin, gesturing to the stack of papers he flipped through earlier. “They’re offering quadruple the pay,” he says sternly. “He’s obsessed with your work.”

“So what?” You argue. “I have a ton of other projects to finish. And I’m not throwing all of that away because some guy wants time alone with the artist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting alone time with an artist,” Q emphasizes.

“This is a huge sacrifice, Quinton. I wish you would’ve run this by me earlier.”

Your eyes meet the calendar above his desk again, counting the number of projects with a big ON HOLD scribbled below them. Q sighs, evidently feeling a little guilty for his own actions, and then pinches his wireframe glasses between his fingers, pulling them off his face and tucking them into the pocket of his blazer.

“I’m willing to give you 10% more than what you already make from these.”

Your gaze snaps to his, a bewildered expression on your face as you process his words.

“What- seriously? Quinton, that’s-”

“His company’s loaded” he says with a shrug. “The guy is so much bigger than I thought he was. People love him.”

And your gaze flickers between the calendar and the big red text, Quinton’s hopeful stare and at the box of new art supplies you’ll be required to work with.

Q doesn’t need to press you for verbal confirmation, knowing that the caress of your fingers over Hyunjin’s name on the envelope serves as answer enough.

*

Your studio is particularly messy on Wednesdays, housing all of the project paraphernalia from the days prior. Today is no exception, canvases that sit on easels lining the walls and cans of paint thinner spread out on the tarps. You make your best attempt at shoving everything against the wall, creating a clear pathway for Hyunjin to stride into the way he always does. And you set up your canvas prior to his arrival, getting all of your necessary supplies in place to avoid the awkward few moments of setting up while he watches you so intently.

He’s a punctual idol if you’ve ever met one, arriving at 5pm on the dot, expensive-looking sunglasses shielding his eyes from the barely visible sunlight outside, and a black beanie pulled over his head. He looks like he could be a security guard of his own, the all-black attire even more unsettling as he makes his way inside.

There’s a reason you never house clients in your own studio- the reason being it’s small. It’s office-sized, large glass windows on one side of the wall that overlook a sea of greenery that’s now overgrown with all the recent rains. The floor is gray concrete, stained just about everywhere with swatches of paint and charcoal pieces. And the two tabled surfaces that are available are covered in art supplies, the color of the furniture now indistinguishable as they house tubes of paint, brushes and cans of thinner.

“You can put your bag on the chair there,” you say as he walks in, his hands still shoved in his pockets.

He does as told, setting a designer crossbody on the folding chair by one of the tables, and then he stands confidently, observing the room as he awaits further instruction.

He takes long strides around the perimeter of the room, leaning closely into the existing canvases to study your techniques. But he says nothing, remaining much quieter than last time, the only sound coming from his heeled boots as he moves elegantly around the studio.

“I’m ready,” you say, and Hyunjin turns around to face you. He cocks his head slightly, and then he brings one hand up to pull the beanie off his head, letting his brown tresses fall loosely around his handsome face, not requiring much adjustment as they seem to fall in disarray so perfectly. He pulls his sunglasses off as well, folding them between his plump lips before tucking them into the pocket of his jeans as he finally stops to look at you.

He looks as handsome as he always does, his unreal features looking as though he was modeled by a painting and not the other way around. You feel small in front of him, and unimportant, as he approaches you and stops just in front of your much smaller figure.

“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks, cuffing up the sleeves of his black knit sweater.

“It’s up to you,” you reply to him, giving a small shrug as you speak.

“This one’s your call,” Hyunjin retorts. “I want it from the artist’s vision.”

And you can’t help the blush that creeps up on your cheeks, feeling embarrassingly flustered at the idea of someone caring even slightly about your vision. Everything’s from your client’s vision- the outfits, the poses, even the adjustments they request following the painting’s unveiling. It’s very seldom that you’re able to provide any directions to the standard of your vision, and though it’s unexpected, it’s a little endearing.

“My vision?” You echo, tapping your fingers on your chin.

You glance around the room at the supplies you have on hand, nothing special, but definitely materials you can work with.

Without replying to him, you pull forward one of the folding chairs, setting it down in front of your easel and gesturing to it.

“Could you sit on the top part? Like, on the back of the chair?”

Hyunjin nods, climbing up onto the chair and balancing as he takes a seat on the back part. It’s a little unstable looking, but Hyunjin seems to manage just fine, spreading his legs casually and running his hands through his hair.

“Your hands,” you chime in, taking note of the silver watch he flaunts on his left wrist. “Could you rest them on your knees?”

“Like this?” Hyunjin questions, sprawling his palms out over his kneecaps.

“Not quite,” you reply. “A little more like…”

And then without warning, you take both his hands in yours, positioning his elbows to rest atop his kneecaps so that his hands hang loosely in front of him. He cocks his face up to meet your gaze, the same intense expression he always houses, and you take a step back to admire the position.

“Exactly like that,” you say to him. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable and we’ll take a break.”

Hyunjin shoots a small smile, perhaps more of a smirk at you, as he sits still and watches you begin to paint in long strokes along the canvas. Your movements are fluid and impetuous, but every stroke proves itself more robust than the last, painting a clear outline of Hyunjin’s seated figure as he keeps his eyes on you. And maybe it’s because you’ve chosen his pose this time, or because it’s your third time doing this with Hyunjin, but you don’t feel nearly as uncomfortable anymore, keeping your attention on the painting and disregarding any implications that might derive from his cold stare.

“I wasn’t sure which brand of oil paints you preferred,” Hyunjin says suddenly. “So I bought you three kinds.”

“Oh, yeah,” you reply softly. “Thank you for the gifts. You really didn’t have to.”

“You have a talent,” Hyunjin voices. “I hung the last one up in my own studio.”

“You have a studio?” You question, remembering Q had previously mentioned something about him being an artist.

“I do,” Hyunjin answers. “It’s nothing like this one, just some canvases in the shared dorm we have. But I paint in all my free time. If I wasn’t here right now, I’d probably be painting.”

“That’s interesting,” you reply. “I’d love to see your work someday.

And Hyunjin doesn’t hesitate to pull his phone out, navigating to his camera roll to show you some of his pieces. He flashes you a painting of a bouquet of roses, placed in a glass case atop a table. Another showcases a city street, scribbled cars and people that line the pavement. And a whole gallery of them depict people- couples, in particular, in all sorts of romantic poses. Kissing, hugging, embracing with such passion and force, almost consuming each other with their visible desperation for one another.

“They’re beautiful,” you say, in awe at the technique of his art. You weren’t expecting him to be so good, for someone who doesn’t paint as a full-time career.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin replies, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve learned so much from you.”

“Me?” You retort with a small chuckle. “I highly doubt that, your stuff is very unique. But I’m flattered that you’d say that. Thank you.”

Hyunjin keeps his gaze on yours for a moment, cocking his head to the side as though he’s observing your features. He doesn’t say anything, his eyes narrowing and widening again as he takes in the sight of you dabbing a little more olive paint into his complexion. And then he straightens his back, steadying himself on the chair with two hands gripping the sides.

“When was the last time you left this studio?” He inquires with a smug expression. He sounds a little more serious now, and his tone of voice makes your heartbeat race.

“I don’t live here,” you reply plainly. “I leave every day.”

“When was the last time you escaped?” He then clarifies. “When was the last time you weren’t confined here for the purposes of work?”

You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep busy with your task and avert his gaze.

“This is my job,” you say sternly. “I don’t want to escape.”

“I’m a dancer,” Hyunjin states matter-of-factly. “I don’t live in the studio at the building. Sure, the bright lights and the walls of mirrors help with the choreography. But sometimes I dance in my dorm. And sometimes I dance in a big grass field when nobody’s watching.”

You pause your brushstrokes for a moment, finally meeting his gaze as he stares down at you. He raises one eyebrow, waiting for an answer, which you fail to provide him with as he leans forward once again and clasps his hands together.

“You feel trapped here, don’t you?”

And suddenly his words infuriate you, the sheer audacity of him to walk into your studio demanding all these rules from you, like your boundaries can be overlooked if they’re bought. And who is he to pry into your life like this, knowing next to nothing about you except that you’re a painter? It’s blasphemous- offensive, even.

“I’m not trapped,” you say, standing from your stool and backing away from him a little. “I love my job. I can quit whenever I want to, and this is my passion.”

“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?” Hyunjin inquires, and your eyebrows contort into a much angrier frown.

“Who are you to imply any of this, anyway? You’re an idol. You’re the one who’s trapped in the confines of a million rules- are you even allowed to be here right now? Who are you when you’re not putting on the mask of a completely different persona?”

You exhale frustratedly as you finish, taking a moment to catch your breath, and trying your best to avoid his gaze. But when you meet his piercing eyes again, he’s smiling, a wicked expression on his face like he’s amused at your lashing.

“I’m glad you asked ,” he says simply.

“What?”

“I’d assumed it was part of your vision, to maybe scratch below the surface of the flesh outlines you paint. I know there’s more than meets the eye to your work. You have this passion about you.”

“Passion?” You reply nervously, now fiddling with the brush still in your grasp.

“Mhm,” Hyunjin responds casually. “Like you want to lash out. Go on, get it off your chest. I won’t mind.”

And you say nothing again, shrinking back into the confines of your wooden stool as you swirl the brush around in the same mug of water and dip it back into a dollop of paint.

“I’m sorry,” you voice to him. “I don’t treat my clients like this. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders sag a little, as though he was waiting for you to keep the chaos alive in this little studio. He just nods, and then he assumes the same position as earlier, his knees spread in front of him and his hands resting comfortably on his knee caps as he slouches forward.

You resume the task of shading in his skin tone, adding highlights to the elevated portions of his face and glancing over at him in intervals to confirm where the light hits him.

“I’ve learned so much from you,” Hyunjin says for the second time tonight, and you’re still unsure what he means by it. “I think we could learn a lot about each other.”

And the studio falls silent for the remainder of the session, as he allows his eyes to bore into your soul while you translate his being onto the canvas in front of you. Or at least the parts that are able to be translated.

*

Your calendar is blocked off for the remainder of the week for other clients, Hyunjin rescheduling his sessions as he prepares for a performance overseas.

Your heart sinks a little when Q announces the schedule change to you, secretly praying you haven’t completely ruined your artist/client relationship with Hyunjin. He’s definitely a little odd, and he can be pushy when he wants to be. But he’s undeniably more intriguing than the investors you’re used to housing at the studio, telling you stories of his dancing and inquiring about all your favorite techniques every chance he gets.

He’s the first client who’s ever uttered the word “vision” when it came to yours, and not his, and you can’t let go of the value it added to your last session with him. You had yelled at him, ordered him to stop projecting his thoughts onto yours and asking personal questions. But it was the first time you felt alive, somewhat visible to a client as you painted them. His eyes pierce through your soul, every tangible inch of it, and not just the empty shell of who you are when you’re not existing so loudly. And Hyunjin seems like the only catalyst that allows you to exist loudly these days, even Q walking all over you like you’re an extension of his tedious ways.

Although your last conversation didn’t go quite as smoothly as you’d hoped it would, Hyunjin’s words continue to circle your mind relentlessly, your heart trying to make sense of them no matter how hard you try.

“Who are you when you’re not painting these portraits?”

It’s a fair question, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be a discourteous one, either. Maybe he’s genuinely curious about the woman you are when you’re not following Q’s orders. But where has Hyunjin pulled the implication from that you’re anyone except for the person assigned to produce these portraits? You’ve given him no reason to think anything of you besides the well-mannered, focused painter you are. And to imply anything else would also, by extension, imply he knows something about you.

“I’ve learned so much about you,” he had also said to you, twice in the same session. And can one really learn from two, three sessions of watching an artist paint? Sure, if he was more focused on your technique and your mannerisms rather than staring at you so intensely. But he hadn’t seemed to be interested in much else, simply keeping his gaze on yours and asking base-level questions about your artist career.

If anything, you could learn a lot about Hyunjin, who has the whole world at his disposal and walks around this place like he owns it. He speaks of you like he’s trying to study you. He wants to learn from you, despite being the one wielding much more knowledge and wisdom than you could even begin to fathom. True, you don’t escape this studio- and you don’t utilize it without the intention to work. In fact, your work consumes you most days, your personal life just a microscopic dot in the grand scheme of this arrangement.

But Hyunjin seems to think otherwise, his generous gifts and his fascination with returning seeming to imply something else. Like he wants to learn from you, or like he’s convinced he already has.

In apprehension, like he knows you.

*

“Where are we going?” You query when Hyunjin arrives next, quickly ordering you to gather your supplies and ushering you to the door.

“We’re not painting here today,” he says plainly.

“What? No, Hyunjin I don’t paint anywhere except for-”

“The studio or a company,” he finishes. “That’s the issue. I want to take you somewhere more lively.”

“I can’t be around people,” you respond. “I don’t… it’ll just mess up the whole process.”

“Do you trust me?” Hyunjin asks suddenly, his hand extending out to yours for the briefcase you grasp.

What a simplified question- absolutely not. You don’t trust him, that’s the issue with leaving the studio. You’re still not sure of his career as a whole, you’re not sure why he’s so adamant about breaking all sorts of rules and you don’t know anything beyond his name.

“No,” you reply. “I don’t think I trust you at all, actually.”

And Hyunjin just smiles, stepping forward to take the briefcase from you.

“Good,” he replies, the same amused smile plastered on his face. “That means there’s still a lot I can teach you.”

He watches you slip on your coat, undeniably confused, but in a trance-like state obeying his commands, like your heart won’t let you hear your brain’s protests.

Hyunjin doesn’t drive. He doesn’t need to, having his own personal chauffeur at his beck and call, able to go just about anywhere in the evening during his allotted hours of free time. Ones he normally spends in the studio, watching you paint.

You sit quietly on one side of the fancy black car, your hands folded neatly in your lap and staring at the passing blur of city lights out the window. Hyunjin occupies the other, one of his slender hands resting atop the briefcase in an attempt to steady it whilst the driver makes sharp turns and brakes a little too harshly.

You watch as the city roads turn to one long paved road, surrounded by tall grass and trees. And this path goes on for a while, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, as you remain in comfortable silence. The driver seems to be acquainted with the road, turning every way he needs to, no form of navigation telling where to go, simply having memorized the route. And Hyunjin doesn’t seem tense in the slightest, humming softly to himself as he taps his fingers along the leather surface of the briefcase.

The fork at the end of the road signals the stopping point for the driver, who hits the brakes, but doesn’t turn the car off. The keys remain in the ignition as he comes around to open your door, guiding you out with one hand and bowing graciously to the both of you.

“One hour,” Hyunjin says to him, sliding him a generously folded bill.

The driver nods, occupying his spot in the driver’s seat, and you watch him make a U-turn before driving off down the path again.

The environment is quiet, much quieter than any spot back in the city. It’s nothing except for trees and tall grass that sway with the gentle evening breeze, the sky swallowing up a now orange sun as nighttime begins to over both of you. If you squint, you can even see the mountains from here, some of them lined with little yellow lights, probably vacant buildings or farm workers. And the birds sing their last songs of the day, mellow tunes that harmonize with the growing chirps of crickets.

“It’s pretty here,” you remark to Hyunjin, who stands looking out at the view with his hands tucked in his coat pockets.

He doesn’t reply for a moment, his long hair swaying with the breeze. And then he tilts his head in the direction of the briefcase, nodding once.

“Paint what you see,” he orders.

You nod reluctantly, scrambling to open the briefcase and set up your supplies.

“Do you want to stand there? Or… do you prefer something else?”

He smiles, a little amused at your rushed state, and then he shakes his head.

“Not me,” he clarifies. “The view. Paint what you see.”

You swallow a lump in your throat, stopping your movements and pondering the words for a moment. You haven’t painted a view in god knows how long. Your skills are rusty, your techniques are skewed and the whole concept of it makes you shudder.

“The view?” You question back. You take a moment to look at the view again- there are possibilities everywhere. Green grasses that resemble paint strokes themselves, a deepening blue sky with strokes of blues and blacks, stars like paint splatters and trees with sponge-painted bushels. The art is everywhere, the possibilities are vast and endless with a view like this one.

“The view,” Hyunjin echoes. “Don’t take it too seriously. This isn’t some company's order to paint me. I just want to see the world through your eyes.”

And you nod, once, Hyunjin helping you latch your sketch pad to the easel as you mix a myriad of blues and greens together on your wooden palette.

He flips through your sketch pad for a little while before stepping away, nodding at the pages upon pages of art unlike any of your portraits. When you think he’s going to move, he doesn’t, remaining in the same spot and nodding his head at the works. And you feel a little shy, a little confused at why he’s taken so much interest in the work you complete on the side, work completely unrelated to any of your portraits. When he reaches a blank page, he meets your gaze with a small smile, nodding his head once at you as he finally moves out of the way.

And then you finally begin, hesitantly, as Hyunjin finds a spot in an undisturbed part of the grass, sprawling his long legs out in front of him and pulling out a sketch pad from his own bag. He angles it away from you, beginning to make long, generous lines with his charcoal pencil, peering over at the trees every now and then to gauge their shape. And you remain there, a comfortable silence among both of you, as you both capture the view in your respective visions.

The technique comes back to you instantly, like motion memory, quickly sponging leaves into the trees and pulling the dark sky from its draped position over you to plaster it onto the canvas you work on. Blues, greens, glittering whites for the night stars and fantastic shades of chartreuse and viridian find their homes on the canvas, so carefully placed and mirroring the view you overlook. You emulate the shadows, the waning glints of light, even the sounds seem to live on the picturesque view where time stands still in the confines of four walls.

Hyunjin doesn’t disturb your work flow- in fact, for most of the time you remain there, you cease to remember he’s even working on a sketch of his own, his delicate figure disappearing among the trees as your peripherals shut him out and bring nature to the forefront.

It’s only an hour you’re there, like Hyunjin had promised, before he’s returning to your spot and standing behind you to look over your shoulder.

“Beautiful,” Hyunjin states dramatically. “Beautiful, and spectacular, and shining.”

You chuckle lightly, wiping the brush on your smock and tucking it away in one of the front pockets.

“Will you sign it?” Hyunjin asks, cocking his head a little to try to find where your signature currently sits, but finding nothing.

“Oh, yeah,” you respond, bringing a charcoal pencil to the bottom right and scribbling a quick signature.

He scans the painting once more, tracing a finger over the corner where you’ve added your signature, and then he gives a small nod before meeting your gaze.

“This one’s my favorite,” Hyunjin tells you. “Because it’s entirely your vision.”

“The ones I make of you are my vision, too,” you explain, and Hyunjin shakes his head with a small smile.

“I like how you see the world. Not how you see me. Or anybody else, for that matter.”

And you find yourself blushing again, unsure if his intention is to fluster you with his poetic words, but well aware that he’s having the effect on you regardless.

“Thank you,” you echo politely. “I like this one, too.”

Your gazes remain fixed on each other for a brief moment, the grass now standing still as the night falls over you, stars glittering in the black sky and the crickets singing their nocturnal songs.

For the first time since meeting him, Hyunjin looks less cold at this proximity to you, his entire demeanor exuding softness and comfort as he smiles at you. Maybe it’s the black puffer coat he wears, the collar pulled up to his chin to keep warm from the frigid winter night around you. He wears his glasses, too, these ones a thicker black frame, pushed high up on his face and a little dorky, admittedly. But it’s also because he seems kinder, more warm and welcoming. There’s no existing rush to capture him any which way- in fact, there’s no pressure to capture him at all. And maybe when you’re not translating his model-like appearance onto canvas, you’re able to step back and admire that he’s soft under his hard exterior, he’s so gentle and human.

At first, you debate telling him, a sudden urge inside of you to apologize for your presumptions of him and admit that he’s slowly become your favorite client to be around. Maybe he’s right- maybe you do have a lot you can teach each other. He lives a life of lavishness, entertaining varying aspects of his idol career and serving a role of great importance to those who know him. And he is certainly of importance to your career, being your highest-paying customer and the one you’ve painted the most now. But he plays a role in other parts of your life too, allowing you to try new techniques, entertain your vision, circling your mind with his poetic words and his strategic motions. All lessons which allow you to grow outside the confines of your studio, too.

But you settle on silence, not wanting Hyunjin to think too boldly of you. Maybe he’s like this with everybody he crosses paths with. Choreographers, vocal coaches and painters alike. Maybe he’s simply as fascinating as he looks.

As you study him again, the sound of a car engine interrupts you, and you turn around to find Hyunjin’s driver has returned as promised. You bring a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright headlights that illuminate the whole field, as Hyunjin helps you gather your supplies again, securing the canvas in its case and transporting it into the backseat of the car with the driver’s help.

Hyunjin holds the door for you this time, ushering you inside, and then he comes around to slide into the backseat next to you.

“I think it’s going to rain,” the driver says as he puts the car in reverse.

You crane your neck to look at the sky through the tinted windows, dark blue clouds that loom overhead and seem to make the night even colder.

“I have one more place we need to stop at,” Hyunjin says suddenly, sitting forward to make eye contact with the driver through the mirror.

The driver nods in response, as if the last location is a secret kept between them, as he begins down the dirt path again in silence.

*

“Ever been here?” Hyunjin questions, as he holds out a hand to guide you up the stairs. The steep concrete stairs lead to a grand crested marble doorway, a bronze statue out in front and dimly lit lamp posts that illuminate the sign overhead.

Museum of Modern Art.

“Once, a long, long time ago,” you respond. “I think I usually steer clear from galleries since I don’t show my work at them.”

Hyunjin chuckles softly, stopping at the front door and meeting the gaze of a security guard, who promptly strides over and opens the door just an inch.

Hyunjin pulls out an ID, and a folded paper of some sort, and you watch as the security examines it briefly before nodding. It’s only then that you realize the museum is closed for the evening, the only person around behind the night security, but of course that rule doesn’t apply to Hyunjin, who can get in just about anywhere with the flash of a smile.

“It’s the only way to visit with no one else around,” Hyunjin says, confirming your theory. “They let me stay as long as I want. Sometimes I draw here.”

You nod at his words, giving a small smile as the security eyes you intensely, and then he opens the door to guide both of you inside. Hyunjin removes his coat, slinging it over a nearby coat hanger, and he flaunts a white knit sweater with his dark jeans, looking cozy in contrast to the dark winter night outside. He holds your sketch pad tucked under one arm, and then he skips excitedly to a room behind a curtain.

“This one’s my favorite!” He exclaims, giggling softly like a child might. “Do you know they’re all made out of recycled materials?”

And you brush the curtain aside, being met with the sculptures he speaks of, neutral-toned figurines that appear to be made of paper mache, all resembling people. Their forms hold each other, mimic ballroom dancing, and even embrace each other in a tender kiss as they stand tall in the center of the room.

You watch as Hyunjin snaps a few photos with his cellphone, craning his neck to view them at a better angle, and then he turns to face you.

“What do you think?” Hyunjin asks.

“They’re beautiful,” you reply. “They kind of remind me of your drawings.”

He shoots you a flustered smile in response, touched that you’ve even remembered what his drawings look like. And then he graciously bows as he ushers to another room.

“I think you’ll like the next one.”

The next room behind another dark curtain is a gallery of paintings, all of them abstract forms of art that experiment with different colors and mediums. You take a while in this room, sauntering down the row of canvases and observing how each one captures something completely different from the others. Some include only cool-toned shades, their strokes much smaller and overall more somber. Some play with warm tones, long generous strokes that capture passion and heat. And some mix both, two stories dancing in harmony on one canvas, contrasting light with shadow and love with regret.

As you cock your head slightly, observing the way the colors are so evocative from this proximity, Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, cocking his head in a similar fashion and taking in the same details that you do. And if someone were to stand behind you, maybe both of you would mirror the painting, too, two hues of life and recluse working in perfect harmony alongside each other.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Hyunjin asks, and you hum in response.

“Yeah. I love these colors.”

Hyunjin nods, giving the painting a last once-over before nodding in the direction of another curtain.

“Come on, I want to show you this last one.”

The last room houses a little bench, where Hyunjin occupies the left side and pats the spot next to him. You take a seat, your hands folded neatly in your lap, as you observe the colossal painting in front of you.

It’s a watercolor painting, one amorphous shape at a far distance, yet at this proximity, the tangible outline of a figure, sat with legs pulled to the chest and crouched in a position evoking such sadness.

The cold blue hues highlight the shadows which define body parts among the pile of limbs, the curve of a breast, the almost indistinguishable outline of a leg, aspects you have to really squint hard to make out. But the colors complement each other so artistically, and the figure in the painting looks so melancholy, so longing for something more than the confines of the canvas she lives on.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Hyunjin voices, and you nod, swallowing as you remain quiet.

He pauses for a moment, his voice hitching in the back of his throat, before speaking again.

“The artist was a child prodigy,” he begins. “Apparently they painted all their life and then became a sort of recluse into adulthood. No one’s seen a painting from them since. This was their last big project.”

“Interesting,” you remark quietly.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin replies. “And their art is always titled around themes of loneliness and solitude. Every painting kind of feels like a puzzle piece leading up to their disappearance from the art world.”

Hyunjin says nothing as your eyes dart around the room, swallowing nervously as you ponder what to say. And nothing comes to mind, nothing that won’t make you seem crazy, or irate.

And then before you can protest his actions, he flips open your sketch pad he’s kept tucked under his arm all this time, flipping through a few pages until he’s nearly at the end. He stops at one of your paintings, cool aqua hues filling the paper in the same manner as the one hung on the wall.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Hyunjin finally says, and you realize he’s turned to face you now.

You stand up at this point, smoothing down your blouse and turning away from his gaze.

“Sorry, I have to go-”

You search for an exit, unable to locate one amidst the dark curtains and the dimly lit room. And the only thing you can think to do is walk back the way you entered, beginning back through the abstract painting gallery as Hyunjin follows behind you.

“They’re amazing,” Hyunjin says. “You have a talent. Your paintings were always my favorite-”

“Please, stop,” you interrupt, your heart beating erratically as you make your way past the paper mache sculptures.

“Why did you stop making them?” He asks, now standing still in the entrance, the security guard on high alert as he watches Hyunjin’s stressed demeanor.

“Sorry,” you voice to the security guard, bowing to him. “I have to go, thank you so much.”

And without turning to look at Hyunjin, you push the doors open, making your way out of the museum and onto the concrete steps. It’s raining now, hard, like the driver had predicted, and you march right past his parked car to one of the taxis parked by the curb.

The cab driver takes an address from you, punching it into his navigation system as he begins to drive down the street, and you pray he can’t hear the quiet sniffles coming from you in the backseat.

As he pulls away from the curb, you glance out the window at the museum, where Hyunjin’s now shoving past the door and standing still, his hands dropped at his sides and a hurt expression on his face.

His hair falls damp around his face as he lets the sheets of rain wash over him, his driver exiting the vehicle in a rush to get Hyunjin back into the safety of the car.

But he remains there, unmoving, his hurt gaze fixed on yours, as you turn a corner and fall out of his sight.

*

And just like the sessions were uneventful before Hyunjin, they’re much more uneventful after him, too.

Putting the sessions on hold for Hyunjin is nothing, his life full of vibrancy and color when he’s not spending an hour or two with you in the evening posing for a painting. It’s time he fills with extra dance practice, vocal training, spending time with his members and even doing art of his own.

But for you, it means returning to a life of mediocrity, requesting stock brokers to angle their big heads in a more appealing manner so you can capture every one of their unsightly features. You’re ogled at by salesmen, disrespected by accountants and not a single one of them could give a shit about your vision.

A part of you wants to call Hyunjin and apologize, to explain that he was out of line in his approach to identify you and catch you so off-guard. But you’re mostly angry at him, for having ruined something so beautiful you took pride in every week. Now he’s gone, the sessions put on pause until further notice and your life forever changed by Hyunjin, though he’ll keep living his life of lavishness despite being the source of all your pain.

“Now that we don’t have Hyunjin on the books after this week, I need you to resume the work on Mr. Lee’s painting. Let’s not lose sight of the ones we started prior to his pieces,” Q says, as he flips through a clipboard of printed schedules.

“This week?” You echo in question. “I thought sessions with Hyunjin were put on hold until further notice.”

“They were,” he responds. “After your last session this week. He’ll be here tomorrow evening. He’s your last client of the day.”

“Tomorrow?” You repeat, pausing your brush strokes as you turn to look at him. “He requested to come in tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Q replies with furrowed brows. “Why, is there a problem? I already told him yes.”

“No, that’s fine,” you reply, rotating the brush around in your fingers as you think over his words. “Tomorrow works fine.”

Despite the sessions being put on hold, you’ll still have a moment to explain yourself to Hyunjin and make amends. It might not get you exactly where you were before all of this, but the thought of letting Hyunjin part ways thinking you despise him makes your stomach turn. You’ll still get a moment alone with him to rekindle the state of your friendship.

… Or so you thought. When you arrive at the studio the next day for your last session, Q is still there, organizing papers at one of the tables and still dressed in a fancy blazer and tie like he never left from this morning’s session.

“Quinton?” You call, setting your purse down and toying with the hem of your shirt.

“Yes?” He responds, not looking up at you.

“Are you… don’t you normally sit these sessions out?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” he says casually. “I’ll be sitting in on this last one. I know they were put on hold pretty abruptly, and I wanted to be around for your last one.”

You give him a small nod, protesting his actions mentally. You won’t get a minute alone with Hyunjin after all- not with Q watching you like a hawk. You want to scream at him, to tell him he has to leave and that he’ll be permanently disrupting the client-artist relationship you’ve developed with your highest-paying customer if he stays and taints the room with his overwhelming presence. But he largely determines the success of your career, whether you like it or not. And requesting Q’s absence will most certainly point to something more going on between you and Hyunjin.

“Right,” you reply. “That’s fine.”

You wish Quinton wouldn’t be so… mechanical. You wish he could trust that you’ll get the job done, despite any existing tensions between you and Hyunjin. You wish he wouldn’t pretend to care about being present, when in reality you know he just wants to make sure it wasn’t you who screwed something up. And you wish he would leave you alone with Hyunjin to make amends the way you know you need to before you part ways with him.

When the door opens once again, you both turn your heads to look at Hyunjin, who strolls in with casual strides, his hands stuffed in his pockets. His gaze falls on Q, and he furrows his brows together, finally looking at you, with a confused expression on his face.

“Welcome!” Q says obnoxiously. “I’ll be sitting in for this session, I hope you don’t mind.”

Hyunjin shoots him a thin-lipped smile, giving a subtle nod as he slings his bag off.

“Sure,” he replies. “That’s fine.”

He assumes his spot on the same wooden stool, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap, and then he turns to meet your gaze.

“How do you want me?” Hyunjin asks. He sounds more somber than the other times he’d asked the same question, his voice trailing off a little as he waits for a reply.

“This is good,” you say, taking your own seat and beginning to work light strokes across the canvas. You start with his jawline, the same chiseled jawline you’ve gotten so used to painting, working a robust angle where the crook of his neck meets his cheeks. Then his eyes, the piercing intensity of them, narrowing involuntarily as he poses with such skill, the same eyes which have graced the covers of magazines and album covers. His lips, plump and rosy, forming a small pout as he remains silent. And the outline of his luscious brown tresses, which fall beautifully around his face and soften the rest of his features.

He looks so enchanting this evening, like he’s straight out of one of the paintings at the museum. And your anger feels almost completely dissipated once he’s in front of you like this, just a pressing urge to be alone with him so you can communicate properly.

“Looking good,” Q says as he comes up behind you, his hands folded behind his back.

Hyunjin’s eyes dart over at Q’s standing figure, glancing over at you again while you paint. You attempt to shoot him an apologetic expression, wanting to tell him it wasn’t your idea to have Q here watching your every move. But you can’t properly convey your emotions to him with Q practically breathing down your neck.

“Beautiful work”, Q chimes in, nodding as you add the color to Hyunjin’s hair.

You can feel yourself getting frustrated with him, wishing so badly you could at least ask him to wait on the other side of the room like he normally does. But he remains there, crowding around you as you work and filling the room with his awkward presence.

“I’ll drag up a chair,” Q says with a small chuckle. “So I don’t have to stand.”

And both you and Hyunjin watch as he pulls up a folding chair, dragging it along the floor in one painfully slow motion, the sound of the legs screeching against the concrete floor as he places it next to you and takes a seat.

Hyunjin’s eyes meet yours again, cocking his head slightly as though he’s asking why you’ve allowed Q to be so overbearing today. But none of this is according to your plans, either.

“Go on,” Q urges. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

You hadn’t even realized you’ve stopped painting, grasping your brush between your fingers as you watch Q adjust in his seat and gesture to the painting.

“I think we should take a break,” Hyunjin says finally. “My leg is cramping a little.”

“Of course,” Q echoes back. “We can take five. There’s a vending machine out by the front door. And the bathrooms are on the right, by the-”

Q can’t even finish his sentence before Hyunjin’s shoving his way past the door, taking long strides away from the studio and waiting outside. He pinches the bridge of his nose in deep annoyance, letting out a deep sigh as he ponders the evening’s events so far.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” you tell Q, setting your brush down and following Hyunjin. “I’ll be right back.”

And you follow his footsteps, pushing on the door to meet him outside, where he stands with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his temples frustratedly.

He looks angry, as you predict he would be, but you approach him anyway, fiddling with your thumbs as he stays quiet for a moment.

“I organized this last session to speak with you,” Hyunjin says in an annoyed tone. “I should’ve known you’d invite him.”

“I didn’t invite him,” you say quickly. “I didn’t even know he’d be here, I swear. He just stayed, and he was insistent on sitting in.”

Hyunjin finally drops his hand at his side, meeting your gaze, a softening expression on his face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you off,” he finally says. “I overstepped my boundaries. I’m just here to pay you for art. Not prod into your personal life.”

“I know,” you say back. “I wanted to explain to you, but…” your voice trails off, remembering this is technically your last session with him. And judging by the way everyone speaks of him, it’ll be near impossible to contact him again after this.

“It seems like I missed my chance,” you finish, referencing Q’s persistence.

Hyunjin glances around for a moment at the overgrown plants that line the studio windows, still damp from the evening rain. It looks like a jungle out here, the plants providing no clear view through the windows and instilling such a peaceful sense of privacy.

“Could you stay a little longer?” Hyunjin questions. “After he leaves. I just want to talk to you before I go.”

You think over his proposal for a moment- Quinton is punctual at leaving right past the hour mark. He never stays longer for hours than he needs to, but he’s no stranger to you utilizing the studio to finish up some of your work after hours.

“Sure,” you say finally. “Just pretend you’ve left after the session and I’ll tell him I need to stay longer. Don’t wait near the parking lot or he’ll see you.”

A somber smile grows on Hyunjin’s face as he nods in response.

“I’m going to call my driver and tell him I’ll be longer than the original session. Meet you back inside.”

And you make your way back into the studio, where Q is busy shuffling through papers at the table.

“Ready?” He asks, already taking strides back to his stool, positioned far too close to your canvas and Hyunjin’s seat.

“Yeah,” you reply, sighing a little as he occupies the seat next to you and glances around the room for Hyunjin.

“He’s taking a phone call,” you explain to Q. “Just give him a minute.”

And Q pushes his glasses further up his nose, humming in response as he observes your painting again.

“You’ve really mastered his features,” he comments, scanning over Hyunjin’s painted outline. “Even his eye mole is already there.”

And you scan the painting too, at the little mole painted just below Hyunjin’s left eye as he requested.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I guess I have.”

You wouldn’t forget it, because everything about him occupies your mind, much like his figure lives on your canvases.

*

It’s just half an hour more before you’re finished with Hyunjin’s painting. It’s still lacking some detail, like the contours along his face and the buttons of his cardigan. But they’re all details you give yourself time to finish later, before you wrap up your final piece and gift it to Hyunjin.

Q is relentless in his micromanaging for the remainder of the session, making useless comments about your techniques and asking Hyunjin about his own work. Hyunjin’s answers are all short and echo his clear annoyance, desperate to finish the session in order to speak with you privately. But you both remain collected in your manners, graciously conversing with Q and reaching the end of the session.

Q reviews his invoice documents as Hyunjin slings his bag on once more, standing by the door as though he’s ready to leave.

“Payment was finalized today, and your sessions are on hold until your tour is completed.”

“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, bowing graciously. “It was a pleasure to work with both of you. I’ll be back when we’re done overseas.”

“Don’t hesitate to reach out!” Q calls, as Hyunjin makes his way past the door. He waves Q off with a small smile and then turns the corner until he’s out of sight.

“Well, there goes your best-paying client,” Q remarks with a deep sigh. “We have a lot more to pick back up on. I know Mr. Lee’s paintings are still in progress-”

“Thank you, Quinton,” you voice to him. “We’ll talk scheduling tomorrow. Please just get home safely.”

“You’re not leaving yet?” He queries, already pulling on his canvas bag and hanging his clipboard from a thumbtack on the wall.

“I’m going to finish the details while I still remember them. I’ll only be an hour longer.”

Q shrugs, making his way pivoting on his white canvas sneakers and giving you a small wave.

“Call if you need anything,” he says plainly. “Make sure to lock up.”

“I will,” you echo, craning your neck as you watch him finally exit past the door and jog down the stairs. You can’t see Hyunjin anywhere, but Q doesn’t seem to notice him if he’s still around, starting his car and speeding out of the parking lot.

And not even a full minute passes before Hyunjin makes his way back inside, shaking water off his hands.

“I stood under one of the gutters,” he says in a disgusted tone. His hair is stringy wet with rain water, and he chuckles when you meet his gaze with an amused smile.

“You’ll have to let me paint it like that, someday,” you respond, and he laughs lightly.

You take a seat on the folding chair previously occupied by Q, and Hyunjin assumes his same spot on the wooden stool. For a moment he says nothing, observing your face as you tap your fingers along the metal of the chair below you. There’s not a sound in the room between the two of you, with the exception of a small creak coming from the wooden stool as Hyunjin adjusts his long legs. He runs his hands through his hair nervously, and then he licks his dry lips with his tongue before speaking.

“I have something for you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, his voice echoing around the empty room.

He stands up to pull his bag off the floor, and then he digs around in it for a moment before pulling out his sketchbook. You watch as his slender fingers open the spiral-bound cover, flipping past pages upon pages of sketches and paintings. He flips close to the end, and then he stops, bookmarking the page with his index finger before turning the book to face you.

“I’m sorry if you don’t like it,” he says, keeping the book shut in anticipation. “It’s just something I drew.”

And then with bated breath, he opens the book out to you, adjusting the page in your view to give you a clear sight of its contents. It’s a carefully drawn sketch, of you, standing in front of an easel with a brush in your hand. Painting, like you always do. You recognize the scenery around you as the spot he took you to the other day, the long charcoal streaks perfectly capturing the grass that surrounded you and the tall trees that overlooked the hills. Although it’s a sight familiar to you, it also feels so foreign, seeing yourself through somebody else’s eyes. It feels peculiar to remember people also perceive you while you paint. It makes you feel less unimportant, a little more visible.

“Wow, Hyunjin, this is…”

“Do you like it?” Hyunjin interrupts.

“It’s so lovely. Really. I feel like I don’t deserve this.”

“You do,” he’s quick to respond. “You’ve drawn countless ones of me. And of so many other people. I wanted to gift you one of your own.”

You run your fingers along the thick paper, watching as Hyunjin tears it along its perforation and hands it to you.

“Please, keep it,” he urges.

And you bow once in response, turning to set the drawing along with your bag so you won’t forget it.

“Thank you,” you finally say. “I love it. I’m going to hang it with all my favorite art.”

Hyunjin smiles in response, a breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and then he shoves his hands in his pockets again, leaning against the wooden stool as a silence falls over you both.

For a moment, you ponder what to say to him, wanting to explain the events from the other evening, but unable to verbalize anything amidst your nervousness. Any way you think about it, you fear Hyunjin is going to get mad, especially considering you’d just walked away from him in the face of confrontation. But you also couldn’t help it, his accusation coming so suddenly and so boldly, regardless of it being based on any sliver of truth.

“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin breaks the silence. “I don’t know if I was right or not. But it wasn’t my place to ask you.”

You nod at him, initially planning to divert the topic. But you can’t any further, a growing urge inside of your chest to unveil the truth to him, knowing he’s already pieced this much of it together.

“It is my painting,” you say finally, your voice shaking a little. “I specialized in those ones before portraits. They kind of gained traction when they were first unveiled, and a lot of galleries picked them up. But they drew a lot of criticism, and it became so draining to be the topic of people’s judgment. I think being perceived so heavily just kind of… scared me off. So I shifted to portraits instead, and I no longer do public showings or galleries.”

Hyunjin doesn’t react in a shocked manner, nor does he press you for questions immediately. He just nods, taking in your words, and then he meets your gaze with a concerned expression.

“I learned so much from you,” he explains. “When your paintings were unveiled at the annual art show across the city, I was so mesmerized. They’re why I started painting, too.”

You chuckle lightly, shrugging at him as you slouch back in your seat.

“Yeah, well, I don’t do them anymore.”

You think over your response for a moment, and then you stand up from your seat, too, furrowing your brows together.

“How did you… know it was me?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“I had a hunch when I first saw your painting techniques. But I also knew it the moment I saw your other paintings in your sketchbook,” he explains. “My favorite painting of the series is printed out and taped to my locker in our dance studio. It just felt like you. I paid attention to your art for years. I was bound to know it when I saw it.”

You nod for the umpteeth time tonight, making sense of his words as you think back to the signature you drew in front of him back in the field.

“I’m sorry I figured it out,” Hyunjin says finally. “I know this was an elaborate plan to remain anonymous and shift your focus to a new form of your work. And your portraits are amazing. But you have a real talent for those older ones. And the whole series just… it changed me.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you tell Hyunjin, looking up to meet his gaze at last. “If anyone was going to find out, I’m glad it was you.”

“You are?” Hyunjin questions, and you hum in response.

“As a client, you have this really interesting way of making me feel seen. When I’m around you, It feels a lot more comfortable from the businessmen I’m used to. It’s like…” your voice trails off as you struggle to finish your sentence. “I feel like I did when I was painting my old stuff. I can see the world beyond just portraits for a little bit.”

Hyunjin says nothing, his eyes flickering down to your lips and back at your eyes once more, which are wide with curiosity and passion as you speak. It’s such a sight to see you talk about your art with this level of devotion again, color in your face once more as you attest to your life’s work.

“Tell me,” Hyunjin begins. “Why are all your paintings so lonely?”

You chuckle softly, shrugging up at him.

“I am lonely,” you say simply.

“I’m lonely, too,” Hyunjin remarks.

And your expression turns serious again, your eyes not leaving his intense gaze as he flickers over your parted lips and takes one step closer to you. He’s towering over you at this point, a strand of hair falling into his face as he lets himself lean into you a little more, just barely grazing his lips over yours.

“Can I please kiss you?” Hyunjin asks so politely, his voice coming out in a whisper as he stops himself from pressing his lips to yours while he waits for an answer.

“Yeah” you finally reply in a whisper of your own, almost on your tippy toes to match his towering height.

And then without another second to waste, Hyunjin closes the gap between both of you, leaning down to press his plump lips to yours and embrace you in a tender, desperate kiss.

He tastes like mint, his lips working against yours with no particular rush, yet his mind still running rampant with thoughts of having you as close as possible. It feels so wrong kissing him here, in the studio you strictly use for the purposes of completing your work-related tasks and nothing more. But with Hyunjin’s lips on yours and his slender hands snaking around the small of your back to pull you closer, it also feels so thrilling, instilling a sense of desire deep within you that can only be fulfilled through acting upon the emotions rooted in your innate fascination with Hyunjin’s entire being.

And you feel visible right now, so tangible when Hyunjin’s nimble hands are running down the sides of your waist and sprawling his delicate fingers along your flesh. It’s you kissing him here, not some shell of who you are when you’re capturing the essences of millionaires on canvas. You’re not the scribbled outlines in Hyunjin’s sketches of couples consuming each other with such passion, though you mirror them. It’s you, child prodigy artist turned portrait specialist, and Hyunjin, in all his fame and splendor, who chooses to spend his free time with you in this studio teaching you about yourself the way you learn from him, too.

Hyunjin’s hands move to tug off the fabric of your cardigan, slouching it off your shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, where it piles in disarray among the white tarp that houses loose paints. You’re pretty sure there may still be wet paint on its surface, but you don’t care, your body desperately arching into Hyunjin’s tall frame as his hands cup your cheeks to kiss you even deeper.

You can barely reach him while his frame looms over you, only able to reciprocate his kisses on the tips of your toes as he takes full control of you with his mouth. And Hyunjin seems to take notice of this, intertwining his hands in yours and pulling you down with him as he sits among the tarp and sprawls his legs out in front of him. You bestride his lean figure, balancing yourself on his lap as he adjusts himself on the concrete floor, and you both laugh when you take note of the admittedly uncomfortable positioning. It’s not meant for lovers, this dinky studio and its cold, concrete flooring. But it’s nothing that can’t be overlooked when his lips are back on yours, kissing you breathlessly and tucking strands of hair behind your ears. You can feel him smiling into the kiss, an indication by Hyunjin’s definition that he’s wanted this so badly. And he knew it from the moment you walked into the company building the first time, nervously preparing yourself out in the hallway like you weren’t going to be an absolute pro at your craft the way he now knows you are. He also knew it every time he observed your paintings, both your old ones and the newer ones that capture Hyunjin with such ease, every minute detail that builds up his intense stare only to break him down and soften him, translating this multifaceted version of him only you seem to visualize. And he gains confirmation of it when he’s finally acting upon his urges, your hands snaking around the back of his neck and moving in tandem with his hungry kisses against yours, grasping at his flesh like you’re trying to prove to yourself he’s real, too.

His sweater is the second article of clothing to go, your bodies only separating from one another briefly as you guide the knit fabric off over him and discard it beside you in the tarp. Your hands find his torso reluctantly, running your fingers along his flesh as though asking for his permission. And Hyunjin smiles when you do, placing his hands over yours and pressing down a little firmer for you, so that you can feel every inch of his toned body. He wields the body of a dancer, delicate curves that run along his sculpted obliques and highlight the years of intense training he’s done. His body feels strong underneath you, but he still feels soft, his touches exuding the gentle fondness he possesses for you.

And you’re kissing him again, all while his hands find your tank top and he separates to undress you, pulling it off over your head and tossing it aside. His hands are quick to find your breasts, splaying them over the mounds of your chest and massaging gently as his kisses turn hungrier. You can feel him getting hard underneath you, and you can hear his breath hitching in the back of his throat as he struggles to contain his growing bulge while you straddle him. But you indulge him even further, undoing the clasp of your bra with your own hand as you continue kissing him. Hyunjin doesn’t notice until your hand reaches out to toss your bra aside, a gentle rustle emitting from beside you as it joins the pile of discarded articles of clothing. And he separates to take in the sight of you, raised goosebumps along your bare skin and your nipples aroused for him, the cold air grazing over your chest as you wait for him to resume his touches. Hyunjin gasps a little, leaning forward to take one in his mouth, and then he begins to suck harshly as his tongue swirls around your bud generously and trails saliva along your skin. You moan at the sensation, Hyunjin digging his fingernails into the small of your back and leaving little crescent marks as his sucking resumes harshly, soft moans bubbling from the back of his throat, too, as he stays latched to you. And then he pulls away to give attention to the other one, his teeth grazing the tip of your nipple before sucking again, his eyes shutting as he relishes in the taste of your skin in his mouth. Hyunjin’s hips rock gently against you as he does, chasing the friction of your legs around his crotch as he grows even harder beneath you, desperate for some release. And then he pulls away finally, breathing heavily, his eyes wide with lust and a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. You bring a thumb to his forehead, swiping the bead off his blushed skin, before cupping your hands around his cheeks and bringing him in for a kiss.

“Please let me fuck you,” Hyunjin says sheepishly against your lips, groaning lightly when he feels you squeeze your thighs once against his crotch.

“You want to?” You ask teasingly, massaging your hands up and down the sides of his neck as he nods eagerly.

“I really, really want to,” Hyunjin responds, shutting his eyes as you squeeze your legs again and pepper his face in kisses, trailing from his forehead, to his cheeks and down his neck. Hyunjin leans back on the palms of his hands in a state of pure bliss, taking in the sensation he’s only dreamt of until now. And when you nibble down on his neck, beginning to suck a small bruise into his skin, he sits up suddenly, his hands finding yours and pushing you away gently.

“Wait,” Hyunjin says. “I can’t… do hickeys. Company’s orders,” he admits, a little defeated, and you nod your head quickly.

“I’m sorry,” you remark. “I totally forgot.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin almost cuts you off with a kiss, leaning forward and sitting up on his knees. He guides you down onto the tarp, hoisting himself up over you so that his figure is now hovering over yours, and then his hands find your pants.

“You can do hickeys though,” Hyunjin says in an amused tone, trailing kisses down your neck the same way you did him, and latching his teeth onto your flesh to suck a line of purple bruises. You chuckle underneath him, the sensation tickling a little, but still adding to the generous pool already formed between your legs. And as Hyunjin presses into you with his kisses, you can feel his erection graze your upper thigh, once more seeking the friction of your body for some sense of relief as he longs to feel you around his hardened cock.

“Hyunjin,” you voice as he kisses you, and he hums quietly in response.

“You’re hard,” you remark, your eyes flickering to the tent pitched underneath his jeans.

“Sorry,” he replies, pulling away with a worried expression in his eyes, and you shake your head quickly.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure. “I just want to take care of it for you.”

And your hands find your own jeans, pulling them off your legs and tossing them aside. Hyunjin’s eyes skim over your lace panties, the trim almost see through with delicate feminine patterns, and he begins to undo the button of his jeans, too.

He kisses you as he snakes off his own pants, not wanting to separate from you any more as his eagerness grows to be as close to you as possible. And when he’s finally letting his hard cock rub against the fabric of your panties, moaning softly at the sensation, he knows he won’t be able to take it much longer if he doesn’t make love to you right here in the studio.

So his hands work to pull off his boxers, finally freeing his erection against his abdomen and gasping with the cool air grazes the tip of his cock. You slide off your own panties as well, tossing them aside and letting his cock rest against your bare flesh now, his precum painting your clit with his preemptive arousal as he ruts against you. Your flesh is slick with his arousal and yours, the existing lube between both of you allowing your skin to glide upon one another so effortlessly, the same way your lips work against each other. And he continues to push his hardened length against you until he’s halfway inside of you, your cunt taking him with no struggle as he thrusts inside of you now. You adjust to his thick girth easily, his length seemingly never ending as he pushes deeper and deeper into you. And then he gives one particularly hard thrust, bottoming out inside of you and coaxing a fervent moan out of you.

“Is it okay?” Hyunjin asks, wincing at the sensation of your walls hugging his erection.

“So good,” you whine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. “Feels so good.”

And he begins to move in and out of you at a slow pace, trying his best to stave off the orgasm he’s already close to reaching as he fucks you, filling your cunt entirely with his long cock and bottoming out every time he thrusts himself back in.

And he tries to kiss you, but he can’t, his mouth simply looming over yours in its parted position as he echoes his moans into you and lets his saliva-coated lips graze over you. He looks like the subject of an erotic painting himself, eyebrows arched up so artistically with every thrust, melting into your touch as you run your hands through his hair. His initial dominance over you is quickly shifted to that of submission to your mind and your body, little whines leaving his lips as he lets you consume him whole and mold him between in your touch, like he’s made of clay and you’re the sculptor. His lanky body seems to extend as he sways his hips into yours, little dips from the pads of your fingers embedding into his pale skin. He folds effortlessly above you, the points of his elbows jutting out as he steadies his body over you, like he’s made of wire and positioned to balance over you so perfectly, not very sturdy, and yet bent and snapped just right so that he can remain glued to you. And if you were to climb out of your body and paint this exact moment, all you would see are an indistinguishable, amorphous set of limbs that seem to dissolve into each other like hues of paint on a palette. Two colors swirling around to make one, the two of you like primary colors that create endless possibilities when mixed together like this, offspring of a hundred different shades, painting the darkened studio around you with your yearning for one another.

And as Hyunjin brings a hand to stroke your cheek gently, a smile grows on his breathless lips as he realizes he’s brushed a thick stroke of wet paint along your skin. The indigo stripe contrasts coldly against your flesh, still glistening in its freshness like he’s just begun on a blank canvas.

“It’s paint,” Hyunjin says as you gasp at the cold sensation, smiling too, when he swipes it again with his thumb and flashes it down at you.

And you chuckle lightly below him, taking note of the bright orange streak that lines his neck, just below his adam’s apple. You’re not sure when it got there, or whether it was from you or him, but you run a finger through it too, bringing it to his cheek to rub your thumb lovingly across his face and paint it there, too. And in one swift motion, Hyunjin swipes the palm of his hand along the tarp, coating it in hues of indigo and deep violet and gray, cupping a hand around your breast to coat it in the same wet substance. And you do the same, your hand dipping generously into the myriad of reds and fuchsia paints that live below you, running a hand down his chest and painting a long stripe along his toned torso.

You both laugh, as he picks up his pace again, pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, the paints melting together with your sweat as he fucks you rhythmically again. And like two blank canvases finally being put to use, new colors blossom between the two of your longing bodies, shades of magenta and blue-gray making themselves known across your breasts and his torso. The colors are vibrant and robust, transferring life from the dull tarp of the studio floor onto blank slates of skin. You wish you could step out of your body and capture the colors forever, mix paints together into little jars and name every shade after every feeling Hyunjin’s ever given you. Longing, lust, fear, fascination, infatuation, obsession.

“I think I’m obsessed with you,” Hyunjin breathes into your mouth so desperately. “It’s indescribable, the things you do to me.”

He lets his hands intertwine with yours again, giving them a small squeeze as he fucks you a little faster now and lets his groans shift into small whimpers that escape his lips.

“Please let me cum inside you,” Hyunjin begs, his cock slipping against your cervix with ease as wettened noises of his arousal pooling against yours fill the room. “Please, please, I promise to take care of you, baby. I feel like I belong here.”

He’s a whimpering mess for you now, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he fucks you and lets his hands explore every inch of your body. You want to cry, too, at the realization again that this all feels so tangible, that he makes you feel so seen when he’s hovering over you, placing open-mouthed kisses onto yours and letting his melodic moans fill your ears. The paint between you serving as proof that he’s touched you so desperately and wholly, creating art together in the confined space of your otherwise dull studio. And you want to feel him cum inside you, too, as a final reminder that you’re visible to him, that you’re no longer a fleeting, anonymous artist when you’re with Hyunjin. That he sees you for exactly you are, he knows your deepest secrets, and yet still he holds you, whispering words of permanence in your ear and letting you mold him like art. He’s an artist on his own, and he’s art at the hands of you, both of which draw you to him in ways you can’t begin to fathom, unlike anything you’ve felt before. And he teaches you that you’re an artist on your own, and art at the hands of a lover, both of which you hadn’t considered before Hyunjin, deeming yourself invisible in your comfortable solitude to the vast world around you. But the two coincide to echo the same sentiment that he teaches you exactly the way he also learns from you.

“Cum inside me,” you breathe desperately, grasping his hands a little tighter as he fucks you at a faster pace now.

“Yeah?” Hyunjin confirms, still staving off his orgasm until your verbal consent is heard.

“Yes,” you respond, wrapping your legs around his waist and making your best attempt to kiss him through his release. And you do, your lips moving against his in labored breaths, as he finally twitches inside of you and paints the inside of your listless body, hues of glazed white arousal filling your aching cunt as he whimpers through his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin, breathes, giving a few more thrusts as he slows, his arousal dripping onto the tarp below you as he pulls out. And he rolls over to lie beside you, a mess of paint streaks sprawled out along his skin as his chest rises and falls with slowing breaths. The two of you say nothing for a moment, your eyes glued to a blank canvas housed on an easel in front of you.

It’s an almost blinding shade of white, begging for an ounce of color like the shades that now live on your skin. And through your heavy breaths, you picture the endless possibilities that can fill in the empty spaces above you. Grasslands, trees, oceans, clear waters and a vast, endless blue sky…

*

There is no overseas schedule Hyunjin has to tend to. You’re already aware of this, Hyunjin explaining to you that he made it up to put the sessions on hold and to keep Q from pressing him with questions.

But he resumes the sessions after a few weeks of putting them on pause, because he can’t seem to stay away from you any longer.

Hyunjin reckons he has a couple dozen of your paintings in his room now, all similar portraits of his face, portraits you capture in your signature formal essence, his face staring straight ahead or off in the distance, complete with the fine details of his long dark hair and the mole under his eye.

Only now that Hyunjin is back, Q is present at nearly every appointment. You’re not sure why things changed, and Q maintains a new stance to Hyunjin that the guidelines are based on adjusted company policies. But Hyunjin will do just about anything to be close to you- even if it means putting up with your obnoxious boss breathing down your neck every minute while you paint him.

The sessions are somehow even more unnerving than they used to be, Hyunjin still making every valiant effort to convey his obsession with you through intense stares and little gestures only the two of you can read. Q is obstinate in his ways, his gaze constantly flickering between you and your paintings to ensure everything is going swimmingly. But Hyunjin wishes so badly he could spend the entirety of these sessions alone with you, getting to break down your walls and see you for the person he knows you are when you’re not doing portraits under Q’s all-seeing eye.

With every passing day, and every passing session, Hyunjin grows a deep hatred for Q, despising the way he watches you work and chimes in to converse with the two of you. And he knows he shouldn’t, aware that Q is just your boss and nothing more. Something you’ve reiterated to him time and time again, but he can’t help it, desperate to have you all to himself every second of the day, a deep-seated longing to protect you from the hurt you’ve been dealt and wanting so badly for you to break free from the monotonous cycle you’ve confined yourself to of painting for anyone except yourself.

You can tell Hyunjin hates Q, judging by the way he doesn’t so much look in his direction when he arrives for his sessions. But you can’t convey the slightest bit of reaction in front of either of them, too scared of the prospect of what would happen to your career if anyone were to find out you’re fucking a client.

You maintain a professional composure around Hyunjin, despite the knowing stares he gives you and the sketches you catch him slipping into your purse when Q isn’t looking. At times he’s not around, you complete your daily tasks, well-mannered and organized to the clients who hire you, shooting them kind smiles and complimenting their black business attire when they show up for the evening. When the days draw to a close, Q is punctual as always, leaving just minutes past your last appointment and taking his work home with him.

And when his sleek black car turns out of the corner of the parking lot, Hyunjin slips inside like a mere shadow on the wall, quick to seduce you all over again and gift you with all of his recent sketches. Some of them are portraits of you, smiling or focused on your work. Some of them are erotic nude shots of you, lying on the tarp of the studio or touching yourself the way he pictures you do when you’re all alone. And some of them include both of you, your bodies tangled desperately into each other and drowning in your yearning and love. Sometimes nude, his hands on yours and fucking you mercilessly. Sometimes fully clothed, his lips on yours and bundled up in winter clothes. But always together, always desperate in your touches and always so tangible. You reckon he’s persuaded you into being fucked you on every surface of the dingy studio by now- against the canvases, on the tarp- several times, on the table Q typically occupies and just about every stool available to the two of you. And while Q is oblivious about why you stay a little longer every night, Hyunjin is both calculated and persuasive in returning so you two can get some time alone, time that always ends with his seed dripping out of your still-aching cunt, bodies entangled somewhere within the studio and covered in fresh swatches of paint.

He may have somewhat of an obsession with you, but life is teeming around the studio when Hyunjin is near, the colors and shapes of your work much more robust and vibrant when he’s striding around the space commenting on all his favorite pieces of yours. And you relish in stories of his days, typically spent at fan events or at dance practices. Having him return feels like having your physical figure return home to you, the world in complete equilibrium when he’s near, much less lonely than the one you’re used to.

“I could watch you do this forever,” Hyunjin remarks, watching you glide a brush along your canvas, filling in the shadows of a figure on the canvas in front of you.

And this one’s not a portrait- it’s a watercolor figure, much like the ones you used to paint back then, the technique coming back to you with ease as you highlight the convexes of a body mirroring yours and add varying hues as highlights.

Per Hyunjin’s request, you paint the figures occasionally, only because he’s repeatedly expressed his fascination at watching you complete the process in a live session. The paintings reminiscent of your old work aren’t for sale, nor are they critiqued by anyone except for yourself. And they’re certainly not done with the knowledge of Q, who would turn irate at you utilizing the studio’s supplies for anything but portraits.

They’re just for his viewing pleasure, a little exchange you indulge him in as he continues to gift you with sketches of his own.

Hyunjin’s arms snake around your waist as you paint, his head resting on your shoulder as he watches you dip your brush into a mug of water and dilute the caramel shade that taints the bristles.

“Will you add a second one?” Hyunjin asks in a curious whisper, his lips grazing your ear as you paint.

“A second one?” You echo.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, working a trail of kisses down the shell of your ear. “This one’s you. Will you add me?”

You chuckle lightly, dipping your brush into a warmer shade of brown and swirling it around to gather the color on the fine hairs.

“So they can resemble us,” Hyunjin says, his kisses traveling even lower. “Paint me fucking you the way you like it.”

You chuckle softly again, not missing the way Hyunjin’s hands travel to your skirt, flipping it up to graze his hands along the mound of your upper thigh.

“Hyunjin, I-” you begin to say. But you can’t answer him, shutting your eyes in pleasure as you hear him unzip his jeans behind you and position himself.

“Keep painting,” he says in a sultry whisper, pumping himself lightly behind you as he pulls your panties down.

And you try, bringing your brush to the canvas to add a second figure like he’s requested. But you can hardly make it past the first few strokes before Hyunjin’s sliding into your dripping cunt, letting his hands grip your waist to steady himself as he begins to move.

“Go on,” Hyunjin encourages, as his hips thrust in and away from your trembling figure, your hands trying their very best to keep hold of the little wooden paint brush and fill in his form.

You manage to add a subtle few streaks, beginning the amorphous outline of Hyunjin’s hair, his tall lanky figure towering over yours and taking you with such desperation.

But you don’t get very far before Hyunjin is angling your face to kiss your drooly lips, his hands now finding purchase on your breasts as he continues to fuck you. And all of this is wrong, you know very well. You’re not supposed to be sleeping with a client like this, much less one this powerful, this rich and who wields so much he can hold against you. One slip up and Hyunjin can go tell the world about how you’re the artist who disappeared to sell yourself out to rich men for all their selfish needs. And any option you have to defend yourself would never hold up against his wealthy corporation and all its investors.

But you also can’t help but give into his urges when he’s around, his lips so tantalizing on yours and his cock filling you so fully and completely when he has his way with you.

Maybe it’s not even just about the sex for you- maybe it also has something to do with his stories you live through vicariously, listening to tales of the outside world while you’re trapped in this studio or at the businesses of wealthy men. It’s also the drawings he makes for you, ones you find yourself staring at for hours after he leaves, like proof that he was here and he touched you. The drawings are you in your most tangible form, his hands on yours and his lips on the curves of your neck. It’s like a glimpse into a version of yourself that ceases to exist when he’s absent. And it’s the late hours of the night he spends asking so politely to watch you paint your older work, always so fascinated with the way your mind conjures up varying lonely figures crafted from watercolors and a nylon bristle brush. Older work you hadn’t realized you missed so dearly until you began producing it for Hyunjin again.

But you know that to Hyunjin this is just a exhilarating idea for him, to view your art the same way he carves out a couple hours each week for a museum tour or to sketch in one of his books. He probably finds it more convenient to fuck you here where nobody’s around than to stroke himself in a dorm he shares with three other men. And you can feel it in the way he so desperately pleads you to paint for him or cum for him- that his obsession with you is less about you, and more about the thought of you.

Maybe this is just the result of Hyunjin uncovering a secret nobody else paid close enough attention to connect you to. Or the thrill of you being his favorite artist for years, and realizing you’re finally tangible in front of him, real, and not disappeared like he previously took you for. You reckon it must be the same phenomenon other girls feel toward him, getting intimate with somebody they idolize, desperately cupping his face like it might dissipate if they don’t grasp hard enough. But just the thought of somebody doesn’t imply love. It doesn’t imply a mutual understanding, and it certainly doesn’t imply permanence for either party involved. When he’s gone again, you’ll cease to be real like you already are when he’s not around. And then every vision you have will be rooted in unfaltering solitude once more, your anonymous life resuming again.

“Will you cum for me?” Hyunjin asks, and you snap back to the feeling of his cock twitching in your dripping cunt as he grips your waist. “God, you don’t understand what you do to me.”

You can’t give him an answer before you feel him reaching his release inside of you, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into you and slowing his pace again as he moves your hair away from your face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” Hyunjin says sheepishly as he pulls out. “Sit down for me,” he orders between kisses to your neck, trailing down to your shoulder, grazing his hands along your waist and groaning against you.

And he’s already guiding you back to one of the stools, kneeling between your legs and spreading you for him, your glistening cunt on full display for him to taste.

“Want you to cum for me,” Hyunjin whispers, before positioning one of your legs on the wooden dowels of the stool. You can’t verbalize anything to him before his tongue is darting into your entrance, lapping his own release out of you and trailing up to give attention to your swollen clit. He works you in such desperate motions, tongue working your core like a starved animal and eagerly trying to coax an orgasm out of your trembling body. When his arousal is effectively brought out of your tight cunt and painting the tip of his tongue white, he coats your clit in it, giving kitten licks to your bundle of nerves as he hums against your flesh and whispers little pleas for you to let go.

And between your pussy still clenching down around the sheer memory of his cock inside of you mere minutes ago, and his plump lips kissing all over your wettened core, you do let go for him, dribbling cum down the edge of the wooden stool and threading your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down to your thighs in encouragement.

“So good,” Hyunjin murmurs as he comes up for air, intertwining his fingers in yours as you get cleaned up. You shoot him a little “thank you”, and Hyunjin presses a chaste kiss to the back of your hand as he nods, getting dressed once more and tucking his softened cock back into his boxers.

“Come here,” he states. “I want to ask you something.”

“Should I be concerned?”

“It’s exciting,” Hyunjin retorts.

He guides you to his same wooden stool, where he climbs upon the seat and then takes your hands in his again as you stand in front of him, pressing a small kiss to your palm before speaking.

“You know I care about you, right?” He begins, his eyebrows raised curiously.

“You’ve mentioned it,” you reply.

“And you know I love your art.”

“So you’ve told me,” you say, and Hyunjin brings your hand up to press another kiss to your palm.

“I have a proposal for you,” he then says. “And I just want you to hear me out.”

Your heart sinks at his words, already fearing the worst as you wait for him to elaborate. You pray he hasn’t done anything to reveal your identity, or to make these secret erotic sessions public, knowing you’d both never live a normal life again at either of the instances occurring.

“What is it?” You ask Hyunjin, heart racing in your chest.

He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand soothingly, trying to calm you down before he speaks.

“I privately sponsor the art gallery every year,” he begins. “I put some funding toward a painting of my choice and it allows those artists to have their pieces displayed for the winter show and make connections,” he continues.

“Okay…”

“And I want to sponsor you this year,” Hyunjin finishes, giving your hands a little squeeze.

“Hyunjin, there can't be an installment of your face at the art museum. People will get suspicious.”

“Not my face,” he says reassuringly. “Your art. Like the ones you used to do.”

And you feel your throat dry up at his words, the exact thing you’d feared coming to fruition.

“I can’t,” you’re quick to say.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t do those paintings anymore. I can paint you, or another person or whoever. But I can’t do one of my old ones.”

“But your old ones are beautiful,” Hyunjin says. “It doesn’t have to be your old series. You can start a new one. Do something entirely different.”

“I don’t want to do something entirely different, Hyunjin. It’s a chapter of my life that’s been closed already. You know I don’t do those anymore.”

Hyunjin maintains his collected composure, his eyes softening as he speaks to you.

“You’re not happy doing portraits. I know you. You have a spark in you when you’re painting for yourself, and people love them. You deserve to be doing what you love.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, letting go of Hyunjin’s grasp and shaking your head. “I’m so grateful for the offer, but I can’t put myself back out there again.”

“You can still be anonymous,” Hyunjin offers. “Some artists I’ve sponsored choose to remain anonymous and only reveal to serious patrons of their art. I can make sure they don’t find out who you are.”

“It’s me and my art I don’t want to be seen,” you emphasize.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything now, rising from the wooden stool and reaching for the iced coffee he’s placed on the table beside you.

“Okay. I won’t press it any further.”

He swirls the cup of ice around in his hand, and then he hangs his head in defeat.

“Hyunjin, seriously. Thank you for the offer. It’s sweet of you to consider it. But I’m not ready yet.”

He shoves a hand in his pocket and cocks his head slightly.

“Is this because of Quinton?”

“What? Hyunjin, I already told you our relationship is strictly professional-”

“Not romantically,” Hyunjin continues. “You’re like a slave to him. You do everything he tells you to do. He probably doesn’t let you leave this studio.

You’re quiet again, not answering him immediately. No, you don’t stay here at Q’s behest. But it just feels safer to follow his advice. He was just a client when you met him, but he took you under his wing to get you where you are now. He runs all your schedules, he books your appointments for you, he even gives his say on most of your work. He’s the only part of your old life that’s remained the same, despite your transition to portraits, and cutting him off would be stepping into a world completely unbeknownst to you.

“No,” you say finally, but you don’t expand further upon your stance.

“You’re so lonely here,” Hyunjin responds frustratedly. “And yet you follow orders from the same person whose job it is to keep you invisible.”

“Why should I follow your orders?” You retort.

“Because I love you.”

“You don’t love me, Hyunjin,” you reply frustratedly, finally feeling the anger overtake you as you continue your angered speech. “You love the idea of me. You love the idea of escaping your crazy rich life to try and resolve the tortured artist you’re so infatuated with. You love the idea of fulfilling somebody’s life with your presence because it’s all you do for a career. I’m not the person I was when I was doing those paintings- I do portraits now, and I work under somebody who knows what’s best for me. And you’re just a client I’m sleeping with.”

Hyunjin purses his lips, amused you would stoop that low for the purposes of declining his offer. And then he shakes his head as he speaks again.

“You’re right,” he finally says. “I’m just some client you’re sleeping with. I never tried to push you out of this line of work you hate so much, or drew you on every page of my sketch book or made love to you in every square inch of this goddamn studio. I’m not proposing this because I care about you and I want you to do what you love, it’s because I’m just a client you’re sleeping with.”

And he pivots on his heel to exit the studio, taking rushed steps toward the door as tears brim the corners of your eyes.

“Hyunjin, wait,” you call desperately.

“I see you,” Hyunjin says suddenly, turning around to face you. “I see all of you. Your work didn’t just materialize by some anonymous form. You’re a painter, a really talented one, and I don’t want you to feel this all-consuming solitude anymore. I say that because I love you, not just because I’m sleeping with you. If you want to remain invisible to everybody except Quinton, then be my guest. Just know that I tried.”

And without another word, the studio is empty again, the tip of your brush still dripping with the remnants of the warm brown color and every intention to add a second figure to your painting.

*

You don’t speak with Hyunjin any more that evening. Or the next day. Or perhaps for a whole week following the conversation, for that matter. The reality is that you want to partake in his offer, the thought of it candidly piquing your interest to paint something other than another rich man. And it would be nice to watch your art be displayed for people to see just once, rather than to live on the walls of a company where only people within a certain tax bracket will ever grace your work. But what you reiterated to Hyunjin still stands- you’re scared to venture out into the competitive world of art galleries again. Your old series was a hit, sure, but it was also torn down relentlessly by those who didn’t understand it and those who simplified it down to its medium. And it was a much harder endeavor to make people understand your watercolor forms, unlike the portraits Q advises you continue producing.

But you can’t seem to stop thinking of Hyunjin’s proposal as a whole, understanding very well that his offer is one of the kindest things he could propose to you at this place in your life. He sees you- all of you, and subsequently he knows that you’re unhappy in this monotonous abyss of adding new features to the same faces every day. The way a change for you is determined only by a shift in a client’s pose or even just an addition of their pet- it’s all so repetitive, exactly what art isn’t supposed to be.

Maybe you’re just scared of getting rejected again, or perhaps it’s that you’re scared of finally being seen again, anonymous or not, putting yourself on the map again and being perceived.

*

“I want a painting,” Hyunjin says as he saunters into the studio one evening, throwing off his bag and dragging a stool to the middle of the room.

“Oh- Hyunjin, pleased to see you again,” Q remarks, bowing and giving you a nervous look.

Hyunjin doesn’t even acknowledge him, keeping a stern gaze locked on yours as if he’s challenging you.

“We have the evening booked today,” Q begins. “But I’m sure we can accommodate something for next week-”

“I need it now,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m willing to pay five times your asking price.”

And you narrow your eyes at Hyunjin, knowing he’s making his best attempt to provoke you and disrupt the work you’re completing per Q’s orders.

“How do you want it?” Q then asks, not hesitating to put aside your entire evening for Hyunjin’s offer.

“I want to be in a suit. And I want to be holding a wad of cash. I want to look like an investor.”

“Interesting,” Q says, his gaze flickering to yours. “She can do it though.”

Q turns to face you, giving you a knowing look as he raises his eyebrows. “I’ll clear your calendar for today and we can stay and work on this piece.”

And Hyunjin looks to you, too, waiting for you to protest, to say something along the lines of a refusal to partake in the outlandish task. But you avert both of their gazes, readying your paint palette and gesturing to one of the stools in front of you.

“Have a seat,” you say plainly, void of any emotion or desire to fulfill the task. And by the way Q hovers over you, void of autonomy, too, Hyunjin concludes.

“How are things at the company?” Q asks Hyunjin, leaning in a little too close to you as you begin painting long strokes on the canvas.

“Fine,” Hyunjin says, not taking his gaze off yours. His eyes are narrowed like he’s challenging you, yet you don’t give him the reaction he searches for.

“You must be busy,” Q remarks, his hands folded behind his back. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you here.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure you’re running her schedule like the fucking military,” Hyunjin retorts, cocking an eyebrow at him. Q takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t argue, doing his best to keep in line at your highest-paying client.

“She’s pretty busy,” Q replies reluctantly. “But it’s nothing she can’t handle.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, again waiting for you to chime in, but you still don’t, working on adding details to Hyunjin’s tresses on the canvas.

“This will be my final session,” Hyunjin then says, and your head snaps to meet his gaze.

“Is that so?” Q questions. “Going overseas again?”

“Indefinitely,” Hyunjin replies. “Not overseas, I’ve just no need for the paintings anymore.”

Your lips part as though to ask if he’s serious, but you can’t, not with Q here alongside you.

“I have so many of them now,” Hyunjin remarks, not taking his eyes off you. “It’s been a lovely time with the two of you, but I won’t be returning after this evening. I hope you understand.”

“Please don’t hesitate to reach out if there’s anything we can provide you with,” Q voices. “I hope we’ll remain connected with the peers at your company.”

“Oh, you will,” Hyunjin replies. “I’m sure the investors and the senior managers will love portraits of their own. She’ll have a lifetime of portraits to complete when I’m gone.”

You can feel a pit forming in your stomach, queasy at the thought of carrying on this task of capturing rich businessmen and ceasing your sessions with Hyunjin. He’s unmoving in his attempts to make you revisit your old art. But his begging has also been eye-opening, making you realize just how much you hate this line of work and having Q breathe down your neck.

Hyunjin has a point, you’re unhappy doing portraits. You love the watercolor figures you paint, you love your time with Hyunjin and the feeling of unending curiosity he instills in you. There’s no solitude when he’s around, filling every aspect of your life with such color and vibrancy like the figures you paint. And you learn from him just as much as he learns from you.

But the fear remains, the feeling of hopelessness remains, the perception that Hyunjin is only obsessed with an idea of you and that your career is far gone from the watercolor figures you painted so long ago.

And of course, that you require Q’s uncompromising presence in your life to be even close to successful. He’s the one who transitioned you to a successful career of portraits after your previous line of work fell through. And you’re not sure you can shift to a new focus without him to guide you.

“Hyunjin,” you say suddenly, garnering the attention of both he and Q.

“What is it?” Q replies, as though you’re referring to him. And you wish he wouldn’t be so… disruptive, making you lose your train of thought as Hyunjin waits for your words with bated breath.

“I’ve completed the initial outline,” you settle on saying. “It should be sent over to you in a couple days.”

And he nods, a somber, thin-lipped expression on his face as he understands you’re never going to divert from this path of fear you walk, one you’re forcing yourself to stick to.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin responds, getting up to leave again. “I’ll see you around.”

*

Private events are seldom actually private for Hyunjin. The interior of the gallery is organized accordingly so that patrons can mingle with their respective artists and all of the prestigious guests invited.

But the exterior is only private up the crowd control stanchions, where beyond it live hordes of people wielding all sorts of fancy cameras and cell phones, snapping photo after photo and analyzing every one of Hyunjin’s movements.

Hyunjin’s attending an art gallery today, the crowds murmur amongst each other, the message echoing all over the city and overshadowing the art itself, which hasn’t even been unveiled yet.

His departure from the black limousine he arrives in is met instantly with deafening screams, the repetitive click of camera shutters and commands for him to angle his face every which way. The people stop to stare at his fitted black suit, the long black hair he sports styled slick out of his face and expensive jewelry he flaunts as a clear indicator that he’s a sponsor of the evening’s show, alongside a long list of other wealthy individuals.

His hands remain tucked in the pockets of his black slacks, giving a gracious bow to the fans before making his way inside to the main event.

And the gallery is significantly more packed than he’s used to, people crowding every square inch of the marbled floors and admiring the intricate pieces of art. The curtains are pulled back neatly so that guests can roam freely among the halls, easels set up in neat rows and canvases mounted on walls to display all the sponsored works of art.

Hyunjin is quick to gravitate to the long white table pushed against the wall by the entrance, set up with generous servings of hors d’oeuvres. And in a bout of nervousness, he’s sampling the cheese platters and the varying flavors of wine, sighing as he swirls a glass of cherry merlot between his slender fingers.

He was supposed to be here sponsoring you tonight, unveiling your paintings for the world to appreciate once again, and so that he’d finally put forth the notion that you’re more than the halls of law offices your portraits exist in.

But that was three weeks ago now- three weeks in which Hyunjin failed to visit you like he’d warned he would. And three weeks in which neither of you reconnected, letting the temporary affair between you dissipate like the sketches he stopped producing of you, like the portraits he finished collecting from you. And like the hope he held onto that maybe you’d come around and entertain a life in which you aren’t so comfortable being invisible and inhibited at the hands of your Q. But that never came around, and although Hyunjin is frustrated with you, he misses you just as much, knowing very well he could spend a lifetime learning from you if only you let him. Now in the gallery he once dragged you to, where he admitted to having learned the secret you hid, he can only pray you know that he sees you for who you are, and not some invisible producer of your static portraits. That a life lived in complete solitude doesn’t have to be the answer to succumbing to your fears, even if it feels more comfortable than the perception and the critiques of others. And that although the idea of you was a lovely one indeed, he loves every part of you, not just the concept of you- and pushing you to grow was his way of making it known.

The gallery hosts are quick to introduce the paintings and their respective sponsors, a variety of them being under anonymous titles and names as they choose to remain hidden, too. But Hyunjin doesn’t wait around to listen to much of it, examining the paintings on his own in between nervous trips to the snack table, where he gets tipsy off a little too much cherry wine. It’s his first time not being a sponsor to a specific painting, instead having opted to donate a large sum to the gallery in his company’s name. But after you declined his invitation to be sponsored, Hyunjin didn’t see it fit to highlight the work of any other painting. It’s you he wants to see up there, proudly showing off your work and making a name for yourself in the industry again the way he knows you secretly want to. And he so badly wishes he could stop by your studio one last time to tell you that he’s not sure he can ever sponsor another painting again if it’s not one of yours. Your art circles his mind relentlessly, as do your words, your heart, your body and your real, tangible presence.

“Nice, isn’t it?” A voice says from beside Hyunjin. He almost jumps, the wine making him a little tired at this point in the evening, not having socialized with many people while he stands in the corner of the room and takes in the sight.

“Quinton?” Hyunjin voices plainly, scowling at his uptight demeanor as he leans against the table beside Hyunjin and crosses his legs.

“So nice to see our former highest-painting client,” Q responds. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve never seen you at one of these,” Hyunjin chimes in. He then looks around the room frantically, thinking maybe you’d accompanied him to the event tonight.

“Don’t bother,” Q says, as he takes a sip of wine. “I’m alone. Just scoping out the competition.”

He’s quiet for a moment, swirling his glass of wine around in his hand before speaking again.

“She never had a portrait at one of these gallery shows. Said they felt too commercial. Of course her old stuff was shown just about everywhere. I think she was just scared.”

“You mean- you knew?” Hyunjin questions.

“Of course I knew. I led her career’s entire rebranding. Of course she didn’t love the portraits, but the money came to us like you wouldn’t believe. And coupled with her fear of these gallery walks and important figures, we had no choice but to compromise. I got her the opportunity to paint people like you. And she did all the work.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply shaking his head and crossing his legs, too.

“She had a lot of people who believed in her art.”

Q shrugs. “She was free to walk whenever she wanted. Her fear kept her controlled, not me. I’m just another businessman for all she cares.”

And Hyunjin gives a small nod, finishing the last of his wine.

“Look, I can’t help but feel like I owe you an apology,” Hyunjin says finally. “I was just a little jealous whenever you were around. Not that there was anything going on, I just mean-”

“You think you’re the first client to have taken a liking to her?” Q interrupts. “I’ve seen it a million times. People want to take advantage and they get obsessed, and they start pulling crazy shit like offering five times the pay for a simple portrait.”

Q looks down to examine his leather shoes, adjusting the glasses that rest on the bridge of his nose. And then he sighs frustratedly before speaking again.

“I would know,” Q then says, doing his best to avert Hyunjin’s gaze. “She’s a tough one to crack. She loves her paintings, and being alone and I don’t think she’d ever give the time of day to a good man. Not even if he followed her to her next endeavor.”

Hyunjin nods at the marbled floor, and then his head snaps in the direction of Q’s somber gaze.

The way he speaks of you, the way he gets a little too close to you for Hyunjin’s liking- Hyunjin finally thinks he understands. It’s not just the fear of being perceived that keeps you from picking up your old life again. It’s the fear of abandoning Q, who so arrogantly feels like he’s owed something for helping get you back on your feet after you shifted your work’s focus.

He’s the only other person who knows your secret, and he holds it over you like it makes him more important than anyone else in your life. He reduces you to a lifetime of following his orders, likely because he’s bitter that he was never the solution to your loneliness. A wealthy businessman himself, it was Q who kept returning for paintings once not long ago, accumulating piles of your work and making every last effort to pursue you. But when he wasn’t successful, he convinced you that you were right about your fears, that it was your best move to take his advice and he’d keep you turning a generous profit as long as you stuck by him. Q was so hopelessly devoted to an idea of you, and when he couldn’t help you overcome your fears, he became the catalyst for your fears, instead.

“You and I are a lot of the same,” Q voices. “Two rich men with dreams just out of our reach. It seems money can’t buy you everything, after all.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, swallowing nervously and looking at Q. And then Q shakes his head as he sets his glass of wine down on the table.

“Only I’ve never seen her willingly paint the same client so many times the way she does with you,” he finishes. “I guess she really liked being seen, after all.”

Q adjusts his glasses once more, and Hyunjin feels his heart sink at Q’s words, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty for not having contacted you again.

“Could you tell her I stopped by?” Hyunjin inquires.

“Me? Oh no,” Q begins. “I can’t get in contact with her. No one can.”

“You- what? What do you mean?”

“Exactly that,” Q responds. “She told me she was done, and she walked out on me with a single watercolor palette and a notepad. She didn’t say anything else.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Hyunjin interrupts to ask, and Q shakes his head.

“She just left, and it’s been almost a month and she’s still MIA. Maybe she’ll come crawling back when she needs another rebranding.”

Hyunjin can feel his heart sinking deeper and deeper with every passing word that leaves Q’s lips.

He’s tried your cell phone- twice since leaving, and you never answered. But he assumed it to be a fleeting argument that would eventually make amends in due time when he could stomach visiting the studio again- not you running away from all of this for good.

“I have to go,” Hyunjin says frantically, chugging the rest of his wine and slamming his glass on the table.

“It was me who found her the first time,” Q says, not taking his eyes off the art across the room.

“What?”

“It was me who chased after her. After she disappeared. Don’t be surprised if she shuts you out when you finally do find her- I think I’ve already scarred her enough with my relentless attempts at persuasion.”

Hyunjin nods nervously, watching as Q cocks his head at the art, still averting Hyunjin’s gaze. And when he finally does turn to look at him, his eyes are glossy with tears, guilt painting every feature on his face.

“Could you just tell her I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin nods, though he makes no verbal promise to relay the message to you.

“Don’t do what I did,” Q emphasizes. “I think you’re the one person who makes her feel like art, herself. Don’t ruin this.”

*

“I forgot my ID today,” Hyunjin remarks to the security guard in the late hours of the evening. He’s met with a gracious bow, the same security guard opening the door and ushering him inside anyway.

“Don’t worry about it. Take as long as you need.”

The security guards all know Hyunjin very well now, taking note of the way his visits increased tenfold following your departure from the city.

At first he felt as though maybe he was searching for you when he’d come out here, any ounce of proof that you had indeed existed the way he remembered, and hopeful for the confirmation that you moved on to something new.

But as paintings cycled through their respective artists, and exhibits cycled through varying themes, it was a confirmation he never received, never finding a hint of you among the gallery. Thus, Hyunjin drew the hopeful conclusion that you’d escaped to a nicer city, worked on your old paintings again and made a new life for yourself, independently instead of under the overbearing presence of any other man. It’s what he wishes, at least, feeling disheartened every time he remembers you’ve very seldom lived any part of your professional career for yourself only.

The gallery is quiet at this hour, akin to the silent gray evening beyond its walls, and Hyunjin’s shoes squeak along the floors as he makes his way over to the curtains that veil the artwork.

New sculptures, by the same artist who had formed the paper mache ones. These ones are formed from wire and clay, the figures once again embracing each other in tender touches and dances. Hyunjin studies every careful bend and arch, making a mental note to sketch some of them when he gets a chance.

Another room houses a similar spread of modern art from before, these ones all coinciding with the warm lighting that hangs overhead, strokes along the canvases all housing similar warm-toned hues. He knows you’d love this installment and its careful attention to making use of color.

And the last room, the same little room behind a curtain, a small bench in front of a colossal canvas and just barely lit for his eyes to make out the scene.

Hyunjin’s seated before he can even examine the artwork, squinting carefully at the painting to get a better look. He even makes a conscious decision to put on his black frame glasses, making every attempt to get a proper look at the artwork in front of him.

Diluted hues of paint and water dance along the canvas, figured outlines he’s very familiar with, and the essence of solitude radiating from every brush stroke. Only this one isn’t one figure- it’s two, a warm-toned figure and a cool-toned outline holding each other in a tender embrace, their faces indistinguishable, true to the mystery of your work.

And between them, bright hues of paint, yellows, blues, magentas, fantastic mixtures of chartreuse and vermillion, all painted like brush strokes along their yearning bodies and illustrating a profound sense of togetherness, much more robust than the ever-present solitude.

“Visions of you in solitude,” reads the small bronze beneath the canvas.

As he cocks his head to make sense of the painting, he feels the leather of the bench dip beside him, indicating the presence of another patron. And at this hour, he doesn’t need to turn his head to understand who it is.

“There’s two,” Hyunjin says with a small smile, not averting his gaze from the painting.

“It felt incomplete without one.”

“Is that…”

“You?” You question quietly.

He nods in response, eyes scanning the swatches of paint between their bodies. It has to be me, he thinks. It has to be us.

“Maybe it is,” you reply. “I don’t disclose my processes to just about anyone. But you’re welcome to make your assumptions how you see fit.”

Hyunjin gives a breathy chuckle, finally turning to meet your gaze.

You look lighter- happier, as though you have the weight of your fears and reservations off your shoulders for once. Hyunjin can’t help but lean a little closer into you before stopping himself, knowing he can’t come in here to mirror the same thing Q once did long ago.

“You’re doing galleries,” he settles on saying.

“And they scare the hell out of me,” you respond, huffing a little at the end of your sentence. “But, it is nice to be seen again.”

He gives a little nod, and then his mind goes back to Q, who had asked to relay his version of an apology to you. But Hyunjin hesitates to speak of him, not wanting to taint your new art with the mentions of the old businessmen who took advantage of you.

“I’d have kept my distance if I knew how this went down the first time,” Hyunjin explains, hoping you’ll get what he implies. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to shift your focus. I just wanted you to be happy.”

You sigh for a moment, scanning the painting across from you, too, before turning to speak to him once more.

“Of all the clients I’ve painted, you were the first to ask about my vision. I think you do see me. And I think it was easier to say you loved an idea of me, because I couldn’t understand why you’d love any other part.”

Hyunjin nods, not taking his eyes off of yours.

“I learn from you the same way you learned from me,” you continue. “And you make me feel so seen. But I’m learning how to do that without needing you, too. Getting comfortable with my loneliness, I don’t think it’s something I was able to practice very much. At least not with…”

Hyunjin nods, not needing to hear Q’s name to know who you speak of.

“I understand,” Hyunjin voices. “And I want you to take all the time that you need. What matters is that you feel fulfilled, and that you’re not being pushed at the hands of somebody else. That’s more than enough for me to love you at a distance.”

And you nod at him, your heart swelling at his words as he turns to look back at the painting once more. The two of you stay there like that for several minutes, observing the way you’ve so carefully captured the togetherness you feel when you’re beside him. Swatches of paints that echo the color he brings into your life, and yet rooted in the solitude you’re still learning to be comfortable with. Visions of him in your own solitude, also creating a version of yourself that will continue to learn from him as much as he learns from you. And still art at the hands of him, both when you’re loving him wholly, and at this comfortable distance from each other.

And by the summer months, he’ll love you at a close proximity when you’re ready again, exchanging passionate embraces behind the curtains at galleries and making love to you in your shared apartment. He’ll continue to draw for you, and remain the biggest fan of the two-piece figures you illustrate with watercolors, capturing the same sense of togetherness and yet unwavering solitude that comes with breaking yourself down to the world around you. And the love will be reciprocated unconditionally by you, who finally feels seen at the hands of somebody who perceives you beyond just a concept.

But for now, he’ll remain right here, at this comfortable distance, allowing himself to learn from you as much as you learn from him. And the love will be undemanding, but it will be real, tangible.

[ ᴛᴀɢs: @drhsthl , @straykeedz-recs , @caitlyn98s , @moonlinos , @cottonsthings , @jaykyo , @write143 , @pinkcinnamon444 , @maximumkillshot , @auraleeknow , @skzms @coastalmaine , @venomracha , @lmhcats , @felinows , @maexc , @kang-min-joo , @liinoracha , @sealovesbts , @hanniessleepyeyes , @hyunjinsamdl , @chans1aptop , @yomomma104 , @sheraall , @kbbok , @silentreadersthings , @beomkgyu , @diorrxluvskz , @dancerachaslut , @jeannie-beannie , @heeseungshim , @weareapackofstrays , @bethanysnow , @inlovewithmusician , @kite-lee , @heartheartisa , @katsukis1wife , @minhosbitterriver , @y-ur--i , @seung-mine , @sskzlover , @bomi-ja , @crisle19 , @binniesbang , @leritzreyw , @lixiesundrop , @chopchopslide-juggalo , @vsereniasstuff , @morethancupcake , @fun-fanfics , @awillowbent , @unstiqn , @lixiesfairygf ]

add yourself to the tag list here.

Your brain + my brain = besties 🤝

I think it would be also fun to ride him in the dressing room you know? Like don’t pull his pants down fully just enough to sit on his dick you know. Hyunjin would probably tell you to be his good girl and ride while keeping your mouth shut so his friends won’t hear you moans…if you can’t hold them back he will just kiss the living daylight out of you…at this point you’re probably seeing stars. Hyunjin will fill you up with his cum right before he needs to perform and just pulls your panties back over your now cum filled cunt and tells you how pretty you look filled to the brim and asks you if you can keep it all inside you because he wants to eat you out later🫠🫠🫠

Look at him he is pretty 🫠🫠 kinda wanna suck him off after that performance…all cuz if that outfit…

The things I would do to this man would be a crime and disgrace to myself and the rest of humanity, I want him to not even be able to look me in the eyes afterwards with how absolutely filthy I'd go down on him.

The top stays on, even the little scarf and belt, all he'd have to do is stand there and look pretty as I damnn near choke myself out on his cock. Or, alternatively, he can use the scarf and tie my hands behind my back, use it as leverage as he rails me in the dressing room; bent over a makeup desk without a care in the world about what's falling over, telling me to look at him in the reflection of the mirror.

YOUR (NOT SO) FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SUPERHERO | hwang hyunjin x fem ! reader

cursing & smut & fluff & slight angst & rivals au & university au & hyunjin as spider-man au & fuck buddies au & mentions of food & mentions of death & slight mentions of blood & more under the cut !! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

hyunjin had been your academic rival for as long as you could remember, even before university. in your opinion, he was the biggest asshole you'd ever met. what you didn't know was that hyunjin had a teeny tiny little secret. he was spider-man.

WARNINGS | vaginal penetration (p in v), fingering (f receiving), protected sex & unprotected sex (discussed beforehand, but wrap it before you tap it), degradation (reader receiving), praise (reader & hyune receiving), lots of pet names (good girl, might be a princess in there, baby, sweetheart, etc.), hyunjin is a little bit of a dick but he redeems himself, reader wears hyunjin's shirt, small fight scene but not too graphic, hyunjin & reader argue a lot, hyunjin & reader are both a little mean to each other, bff yeji who knocks sense into reader, guy in the chair jisung, hyunjin & reader are a little stupid about their feelings but its okay, let me know if i missed anything important !!

WORDS | 25k ( approx. 1hr & 24min read)

enjoy my loves ‹3 please reblog and leave some feedback if you read through to the end ‹3

You didn’t like to say you “hated” people, but when it came to Hwang Hyunjin, it took every ounce of your strength not to say you did. He was cocky, arrogant, and he was smart. That was probably what you disliked most about him. It didn’t seem fair that someone as unbearably smug, overconfident, and conceited as him was also an academic genius. He was on the same level of arrogance as the jocks who had roamed the halls of your high school, but he, unfortunately, wasn’t as airheaded as they were. If he was, you may have been able to feel sorry for him. Instead, you had to face his annoying comments and unfair intelligence. 

“What’d you get on your physics exam, yn?” Hyunjin asked, leaning back in his seat to try and peek at your paper. 

You smirked at him in return, knowing full well he hadn’t studied for this particular exam (you’d overheard him talking about it with his friend, Han Jisung, before class the day of the exam). You felt confident you’d gotten a better score on the exam than he did, so you grinned as you displayed your exam. When you showed the paper to him, a big “95%” stared back at him. 

But your feeling of triumph didn’t last long. The smirk fell from your lips as he showed his paper to you. 97%. Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “How the fuck?” 

“I’m just that smart,” Hyunjin laughed, pulling his paper away and tucking it into his bag. “I’ve been doing physics since I was a kid, though, so don’t feel bad. There’s no way you could score better than me.” 

“You didn’t even study!” 

Needless to say, you were fuming. It wasn’t fair how effortlessly subjects like math and science and physics came to him. It came easier to you than it did to some others, but it was still hard work. It irritated you to no end that he didn’t have to work nearly as hard as you did. 

He shrugged, annoying smirk still plastered on his face. He leaned back in his seat again, hands behind his head as he kept his eyes fixed on you. “Guess I just don’t need to.” 

You rolled your eyes, lips closed tightly and jaw clenched. If you opened your mouth, you were certain you’d say something you would regret—something truly nasty. Thankfully, you were saved from a bout of bickering with Hyunjin by your professor beginning the lesson for the day. 

You tried not to let Hyunjin get to you. It wouldn’t help anything; it would only make you more bitter. You also tried to pay attention to what your professor was teaching, but your mind only drifted back to the cocksure man seated in front of you, hardly even glancing at the front of the classroom. Hyunjin seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons—how to make you feel most insecure and most angry. 

You hardly registered class ending, hardly registered yourself packing up your bag and hurrying out of the classroom. You didn’t notice Hyunjin watching you leave, didn’t notice the way his eyes softened with concern for a split second as you stormed past him. 

Truthfully, he’d never meant for your little rivalry to get so out of hand. Sure, he was the one always picking on you and he was the one who’d started the battle of wits and academic achievement in the first place. But he hadn’t ever meant to turn into someone you genuinely hated. And as time went on, he found himself growing tired of your petty arguments. You did get on his last nerve, but he wasn’t trying to be a bad guy. 

He sighed as he packed up his own things, drained from his interaction with you. He looked up as Jisung walked over to him but didn’t greet him, so Jisung crossed his arms, “Are you finally feeling guilty about the stupid rivalry you started with yn?” 

“As if,” Hyunjin scoffed, glaring at the, now empty, doorway you’d disappeared through. “I mean, yeah, I feel like an asshole. But it’s like… I can’t stop. Her existence grates on my nerves.” 

“What did she even do anyways? You’ve been competing with her in academics since high school.” 

“I don’t really… remember, I guess. But, she’s always trying to “one up” me and I hate that.” Hyunjin sighed, following Jisung out of the classroom. 

Your voice pulled Hyunjin out of his thoughts and he turned to see you leaning against the wall, talking to your friends while you showed them something on your phone. He stopped walking, trying to hear what you were saying. He didn’t even know why he was so concerned with what you were talking about, but maybe it would be something he could use to tease you with later. 

“...and after watching this video eight times in a row, I think it’s safe to say that I’m a little obsessed with Spider-Man.”

Your friend, Chaeryoung, snorted and pushed your phone back at you. “Yn, you’ve been obsessed with Spider-Man since he saved your dog from getting hit by that car our junior year of high school.”

“Yeah,” Yeji patted you on the shoulder, shooting you a knowing smile, “and you’re literally the president of an online Spider-Man fanclub.” 

You whined, pouting dramatically as you slipped your phone back into your pocket. “Guys, just let me pretend this is my breaking point.” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help the smirk that played across his lips, his good mood restored. Without even knowing it, you were gushing over him.

“Dude, let’s go. We’re going to be late to biochem,” Jisung tugged on Hyunjin’s arm, pulling him in the direction of their biochem class. 

Hyunjin and Jisung walked past you and your friends and he ignored the harsh glare you shot him, willing himself not to glance in your direction. He figured you wouldn’t appreciate the smirk that still tugged at the corners of his mouth and he didn’t want to strike up another argument while he was on his way to class. 

“I cannot stand Hwang Hyunjin,” you all but growled as he stalked past you and your friends. You were still hurt and upset about your earlier encounter with him. 

Yeji rolled her eyes at him as he walked past and crossed her arms. “He’s an asshole. I’m sorry he’s such a cocky son of a bitch to you.” 

“It’s not your fault,” you huffed, looking away from him and focusing on the girls in front of you. “I shouldn’t be so bothered by it. After all, we’re adults. But still… I can’t help but feel bothered every time he talks about his fucking grades and how smart he is.”

“Valid, honestly. He’s a huge prick to you. I don’t get why he has to act like a fucking child,” Chaeryoung hissed, watching as Hyunjin disappeared around a corner.

You shrugged and pushed yourself away from the wall, shouldering your bag and walking toward the exit of the building. “Let’s just stop talking about him. Do you guys want to come to the cafe with me? I have some homework I need to do and I need to start studying for this next exam.” 

“Sure, I’ll tell Ryujin, Lia, and Yuna to meet us there.” Chaeryoung pulled out her own phone, sending a message to the group chat you had with your five friends.

As you walked to the cafe, you were vaguely aware of Yeji and Chaeryoung bickering over something (probably irrelevant). You just couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to Hyunjin. It was honestly such a shame that he was such a dick—it ruined his beautiful face. It was upsetting that such a pretty face was stuck on someone with such a terrible attitude. 

By the time you arrived at the cafe, Ryujin, Lia, and Yuna were already there, waiting at a large corner booth for you, Yeji, and Chaeryoung. You all ordered your drinks and once you’d all received your orders, you settled in, catching each other up on the things that had happened while you were apart. You spoke last, explaining what had happened between you and Hyunjin only an hour before.

“What a jerk!” Lia gasped, taking an angry sip of her drink. 

Ryujin nodded in agreement, “I know I’ve said it before, but, seriously, just ignore him. He keeps picking at you because you give him a reaction—attention. Ignoring him seems like the best option.” 

While part of you agreed with this, the other part of you wanted to be petty and wanted to keep reacting. And you knew deep down that there was no way you would stop your rivalry against him until you were better than he was. Getting a better score on the next physics exam was a necessity. Losing to Hyunjin was simply not an option for you at this point. 

“But,” Yeji interjected, giving Ryujin a look, “we know you won’t go down without a fight when it comes to Hyunjin. So we’ll help you study for your physics exam and help you ace it. That’ll show him, yeah?” 

You smiled back at her, grateful that she knew you well enough to know there was no stopping you once you had made up your mind. “Thanks guys. It really does mean a lot to me. I know you probably think this rivalry with Hyunjin is stupid and it is. But we’re so far in, I can’t just… stop.” 

Yuna placed a comforting hand on your shoulder while Yeji nodded in understanding. Ryujin offered you a knowing smile and Lia squeezed your hand from across the table while Chaeryoung grinned playfully. You were grateful for your friends, grateful that they were so supportive of you, even when you were acting petty or doing something stupid. 

A loud noise outside pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned to see what was happening. Your eyes widened when you saw Spider-Man out in the street, in the middle of fighting a villain you’d never seen before. Your friends were quick to react, pulling on your arms and trying to get you to move so you could all go somewhere safer.

“Yn, let’s go,” Yeji yelled, lifting you out of your seat by your arm and pulling you towards the exit of the cafe. 

You finally snapped out of your daze and followed them, trying to avoid objects that flew through the air, colliding into buildings. Large pieces of a crumbling building crashed down around you, separating you from your friends and trapping you against the wall of a building that was still standing. You could hear Ryujin yelling for you, but you couldn’t tell what she was saying over the ringing in your ears. “Go on without me! I’ll be okay!” 

But truthfully, you were terrified. If more debris fell, you had nowhere to take cover or protect yourself. You couldn’t even be sure that Spider-Man would save you—there were bound to be other people who needed help on the streets and what if he couldn’t see you and, thus, didn’t know you needed to be saved?

You looked up over your head when you heard a loud rumbling, a sound you knew meant more of the building was crashing down. You crouched down, your hands clamped tightly over your head. Realistically, you knew this wouldn’t do anything to deter the falling debris, but it made you feel a little less scared. You waited for the weight you would undoubtedly feel when concrete slammed down onto you, but it never came. You peeked up nervously, shocked to see the debris caught in a web mere inches over your head. 

An arm clad in red and blue reached down, wrapping around you and pulling you out of the rubble you were trapped in. You clung to the hero as he swung you up above the stable buildings and left you on a random rooftop, making sure your legs were steady before he let go of you. “That was a close one, yeah? Good thing I made it just in time. Are you okay?” 

You wanted to say so many things—thank him, tell him how much you adored him—but words eluded you as you stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. So all you could muster was a slow, shaky nod of your head. You could see the way he relaxed at that and your eyes were glued to his shoulders which he rolled back as if to release pent-up pressure. 

“Good. I should go.” He grinned at you as he saluted playfully. You couldn’t see the smile, but you could hear it in his voice. You smiled back a little as he ran to the edge of the building, “That thug isn’t going to stop himself. I think he might have some self control issues.” 

You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped you as Spider-Man leapt off the roof—the joke wasn’t even funny, you were just grateful to be alive. You watched him swinging back to the villain who was still wreaking havoc in the city’s center. You stood, shocked, for a moment longer before you pulled your phone out of your pocket (it was, thankfully, completely intact) to call your friends. 

“Yn, where are you? Are you okay?” Yeji’s worried voice spoke before you even had a chance to tell her you were okay. You could hear the commotion of the other four girls talking over one another in the background, trying to figure out if you were alright. 

“I’m fine!” There was a brief moment of quiet, allowing you to finally speak. “I’m okay. Spider-Man saved me. I… I’m not sure where I’m at, but I’m on a random roof. I’m going to get down using the fire escape and then I’ll let you know where I’m at once I can find a street sign.” 

The five girls all started talking at once again and you couldn’t help but smile. Despite your near death experience, you weren’t scared or shaky. You were just relieved. Relieved to be alive and be able to talk to your friends again. You stayed on the phone with them as you climbed down the many, many flights of rickety fire escape stairs. When you made it to the ground, you found a street sign and told them where you were. Luckily, they weren’t too far off and you met them halfway. 

“Oh, thank God, you’re safe,” Yuna breathed as she hugged you tightly. 

Lia was next, wrapping you in a hug that was even tighter than Yuna’s. “We were so worried. I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

Each of the girls took turns hugging you and murmuring words of relief and happiness that you were safe. Until Ryujin. She hugged you briefly and then pulled away smirking like she’d just won the lottery. “So, tell us about Spider-Man.” 

Hyunjin slipped through the bedroom window of his tiny apartment, stumbling into his desk before eventually collapsing on his bed. He breathed out deeply, trying to ignore the pain in his entire body. His ribs ached and he thought that they may be broken. If not for his enhanced healing factor, he would be concerned, but this wasn’t his first rodeo and he was no stranger to cracked ribs and body aches. 

“Hyunjin? Is that you?” Jisung’s voice rang throughout Hyunjin’s small studio apartment and he shot up quickly, wincing at the sting. Shit. He’d forgotten that Jisung was coming over after class. “I made it here just before that monster started rampaging in the city center but I wasn’t sure when you’d be ba—” 

Hyunjin was standing in the middle of his bedroom, a panicked look on his face and the top half of his Spider-Man suit hanging around his waist. Shit shit shit. Jisung’s eyes traveled from his bruised torso to the Spider-Man suit that was still clinging to his legs and then back to his face. 

“What the fuck!” 

“Jisung, be quiet,” Hyunjin hissed, quick to slap a hand over his best friend’s gaping mouth, “I have neighbors.” 

When Hyunjin took his hand away, Jisung spluttered, eyes wide as he tried to wrap his mind around this new information. “B-but you’re Spid—” 

“Jisung, shut the fuck up—” Hyunjin winced as he interrupted Jisung. Raising his voice took more air and more air meant bigger breaths and bigger breaths felt like a thousand shards of glass in his lungs as they pressed against his ribcage. 

Jisung blinked, quickly pulling himself out of his stupor as he noticed the pain his friend was in. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.” He shook his head, waving off Jisung’s concern as he struggled out of the rest of his suit and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt instead. He laid on his bed once more, closing his eyes as he sighed. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Right… Well, uh, I brought that book on quantum physics you asked me to grab from my dad’s personal library. But if you’re not up for it anymore, I can go.”

Hyunjin didn’t open his eyes as he spoke, “No it’s okay. I’ll be fine in a couple hours. You can stay until then. Put on a movie or something. I just need a nap.” 

“Oh, yeah for sure.” Jisung was quiet for a few minutes and Hyunjin assumed he was finding something to entertain himself. But Jisung couldn’t sit still for longer than five minutes, he just had to know— “So, can I be your ‘guy in the chair’?” 

“Sure, as long as you don’t tell anyone.” Hyunjin breathed slowly, halfway asleep already. “Cool… cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” 

When Hyunjin woke up from his nap, Jisung was closely inspecting the Spider-Man suit under the lamp on Hyunjin’s desk. Hyunjin sat up, groggy and a little sore, but not in nearly as much pain as he had been before he’d slept. “Ji, what are you doing?” 

“Did you make this yourself?” Jisung spun around, face lit up with excitement like a kid on Christmas. “The thread work is insane. And what material did you use? It can’t be regular cloth. Right?”  

Hyunjin shrugged. While a part of him was worried that Jisung knew (not only was Jisung known for his inability to keep a secret, but he was at risk if villains ever found out Hyunjin’s identity), he was also excited he could finally talk about this with someone. “Well, it’s mostly Spandex, but there’s layered fabric woven in. I do most of the needlework by hand which takes awhile, but I make do.” 

“Do you have back ups? What happens if it gets torn during a fight or something?”

“I have one extra, but if they get torn I just patch them up and re-sew them unless they’re ruined beyond repair,” Hyunjin shrugged again, standing up and stretching his sore muscles. 

Jisung watched in awe. “Dude, you were like, struggling to breathe and could hardly stand not even two hours ago. Now you’re fine? Wait, wait, wait. Tell me about all the powers you have.” 

“I’m still a little sore, but my ribs are probably healed by now thanks to my enhanced healing factor. It’s a lot slower than some heroes you’ve probably heard of, but it gets the job done. Other than that, I obviously have that wall-crawling thing, enhanced strength, speed, agility—you know, the works—and my spider-sense.” 

“So when you say enhanced strength… that’s like, how strong a spider would be if it was human sized?” 

“Uh… yeah, I guess.” 

Jisung leaned back in the desk chair and stared at the ceiling, “I am so glad spiders are tiny. I wouldn’t want to get in a fight with a human-sized spider.” 

Hyunjin just shook his head and laughed before he sat down on the floor next to him. Jisung didn’t look at him, still lost in his thoughts. After a long moment of silence, Hyunjin cleared his throat, looking up at his friend, “So, do you have that book?” 

“Oh, right!” Jisung jumped out of his seat and walked over to his backpack, rummaging through it until he pulled out a thick, hardcover book. Quantum Physics. The forbidden fruit. It would give him the edge he needed to ensure that he did better than you on the next physics exam. The lessons you were doing weren’t even about quantum physics, but if he could understand that he was sure to understand everything else. “What do you need this for anyways? We’re not even doing quantum physics in class.” 

“It’ll help me do better than yn. It was close on this past exam, I can’t afford to slip behind.” 

Jisung was quiet for a second, blinking in disbelief, “You do realize it’s not that deep right? Like… it won’t be the end of the world if she does better than you on one test.” 

Hyunjin groaned, laying on the floor and opening the book, beginning to read the contents carefully. “You don’t get it. It’s… more than that, somehow. I feel like I have to prove myself around her. Like, I have to be better.” 

“You sound so stupid.” 

“Whatever,” Hyunjin grumbled, flipping through the pages of the book in front of him and ignoring the questioning look Jisung shot at him. 

The two boys didn’t talk much the rest of the evening. Jisung spent his time inspecting Hyunjin’s suit further, his web shooters, and his equipment. Hyunjin spent his time reading up on quantum physics and making mental notes of things to look into further at the university library the next day. The silence didn’t bother either of them; they’d been friends long enough that it didn’t matter whether they talked for hours or sat in silence. 

“Hey, Jin,” Jisung spoke after a couple hours of entertaining himself. Hyunjin looked up at him before he went back to reading his book, but the split second glance was all Jisung needed to know that Hyunjin was, in fact, listening to him. “Did you make your own web shooters too? And the equipment?” 

“Well, the equipment is a mix of things I’ve bought from… well, I don’t want to call it the black market but—”

“You bought shit off the black market?! Aren’t you supposed to be, like, a hero?” 

Hyunjin clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Oh, shut up. It wasn’t the black market per se. Anyways, the equipment is a mix of that and things that I’ve assembled myself. And I did make the web shooters, although that took a shit ton of time. And so much experimenting. I exploded artificial webbing over my bedroom so many times trying to figure that shit out. Every single time, my mom would come up and knock on the door too and I’d be frantically trying to clean up the mess. But, to this day she still has no idea. And I want to keep it that way.” 

Jisung nodded as if to agree, but confusion was still evident on his face. “Why can’t you tell anyone?”

“Anyone who knows is at a higher risk of getting hurt by any of the villains or thugs I have to deal with. And if not that, you could be traced back to me and not only would my identity be revealed but even more people could get hurt. Which is why I didn’t tell you. Don’t get me wrong, it’s kind of nice that you know now,” Hyunjin smiled at his friend to reassure him, but Jisung didn’t smile back. “It’s less weight on my shoulders. But if anything were to happen to you because of me. I’d never forgive myself.” 

“I guess I… never really thought of that. You’ve had to carry all of this on your own for so long… You have me now, though. And I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Jisung finally looked Hyunjin in the eyes and returned the reassuring smile Hyunjin had offered him. Hyunjin breathed out in relief. 

“You’re not great at keeping secrets—”

“I can keep this one! If I tell, you won’t let me be your ‘guy in the chair’ anymore, so I have an incentive to keep my mouth shut!” 

Hyunjin couldn’t help but laugh at that. The inner workings of Jisung’s brain always had been and always would be a mystery to him, but if being his ‘guy in the chair’ kept Jisung from spilling his biggest secret, he’d let him. It felt nice to have someone to talk to about Spider-Man. It felt nice to not carry the weight alone anymore. Hyunjin was glad that it was Jisung. 

“Guys, come on, nothing really happened, you don’t have to stay the night!” You tried to reason with your friends as they all came into your apartment, overnight bags in tow. After you’d all safely escaped the danger zone, your friends had insisted they grab their things to stay the night with you and Yeji. 

“Yeah, we know that,” Chaeryoung waved you off, setting her things down in your room, “but we want to stay the night.” 

“It’s not a bother, yn, really. It’ll be fun! We haven’t had a sleepover in so long!” Lia pouted, putting her bag down as well. 

You watched as Ryujin and Yuna pulled their skincare products out of their bags and their headbands as well so they could do their nightly routines. They’d always been so meticulous about it, it made you laugh a little. Yeji walked into your room with a tray full of snacks, already dressed in her pajamas. 

“So,” she set the tray on your bed, “tell us everything.” 

You told them everything that had happened from the time you’d been separated from them until you’d been reunited. They were the perfect listeners, watching you with wide eyes as you told them the story, gasping at just the right time and letting out squeals of excitement when Spider-Man entered the story. 

“And now, we’re here and I’m fine.” 

“Is he just as dreamy in real life as he is in the videos?” Lia asked, hearts practically forming in her eyes as she spoke.

“He was…” you paused, trying to find the right words to say. “He was funny, but maybe I only thought that because I was relieved that I was alive. And his voice… is it odd to say that he had an attractive voice? And when he was holding onto me… his arms were so strong.” 

The girls blinked at you, silent for a moment, until Ryujin broke the silence. “Soooo… he was even dreamier in real life?” 

You laughed and nodded, which set the girls into a cacophonous conversation, voices all overlapping. It was chaos, but you didn’t mind. You were still running on adrenaline—the high of being alive. And you were grateful to have friends who cared so much about you. You felt like nothing could ruin your mood ever again. You were just so happy. 

But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Your “high on life” spirit was crushed the second you walked into your physics classroom the next day and saw Hyunjin sitting hunched over his desk, scribbling in a notebook like a madman. You scoffed and hurried past him, taking your seat behind him and pulling your own notebook out. 

“Good morning sunshine.” 

You looked up, scowling at the smirking man in front of you. You didn’t answer him, looking back down at your notebook and labeling the page you were on with the date and the lesson you were supposedly working on. 

“You know, it’s rude to ignore people when they’re talking to you,” Hyunjin all but growled at you. The change in his demeanor made you snap your head up to look at him. There was none of the usual playful mirth in his eyes; they were darker, more mysterious. You ignored the miniscule shiver that made its way down your spine as he fixed his eyes on you. 

“Exactly,” you countered, finally finding your voice, “It’s rude to ignore people. You’re not a person, you’re just an asshole.” 

He didn’t retaliate like he normally would, just scoffed and turned around in his seat going back to writing in his notebook furiously. You peeked around his shoulder a bit, trying to see what book he was so avidly taking notes from. When you saw the title, your face blanched and your heart dropped to your stomach. Quantum Physics? There was no way you could beat his scores if he was proficient in quantum material. 

You scoffed, “Studying up on quantum physics? Finally realize you have to put in extra work to be smarter than me?” 

“Trust me, I don’t have to put in extra work for it. Your last test grade is proof of that.” 

You felt like you could cry. It wasn’t even that deep, it was just true, but all of the pent up emotions you’d had towards Hyunjin were pushing against the dam, ready to break through. You stood quickly and gathered your things, rubbing at your eyes and forcing the tears away. Hyunjin watched as you hurried out of the room, suddenly feeling bad. Were you crying because of him? 

He did feel bad he’d made you cry, but he was also being selfish and only thinking of himself. He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed. He was still sore from the day before, he’d been horny as fuck all day but hadn’t had any time to get off, Jisung had been extra talkative and he had to keep reminding him not to talk about Spider-Man when they were around people, and all the quantum physics readings he’d been doing were turning his brain to mush. He needed to let off some steam but he wouldn’t even have time after class because he’d promised himself he’d patrol the streets for a couple hours before going home. 

He dropped his head on the desk, feeling like more of an asshole than usual. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Jisung standing over him, looking at him sympathetically. “You’ve been really snappy today. Maybe you should take a breather. It won’t kill you to skip one class.” 

“I can’t,” Hyunjin shook his head. The thought of skipping a class and missing something important gave him anxiety, “I just can’t.” 

“I know you feel like you can’t, but trust me, just this once, you can. You should. Go to the gym, take a nap, hell, go jack off somewhere but for the love of God, get out of here.” 

Hyunjin swallowed thickly. The thought of getting himself off was too tempting right now. He’d been feeling hot and bothered all day and just thinking about touching himself made his dick twitch. So he nodded and stood, gathering his things, hardly registering Jisung’s voice reassuring him that he’d cover for him. 

As Hyunjin was leaving the building, he passed the library and paused. He looked at the doors of the library, contemplating whether or not he should go inside. He eventually decided that he would grab the reading material he needed and leave after that. If he didn’t get it now, he’d have to come back another time and he didn’t have class in the science building for the rest of the week. 

He made a beeline for the physics section of the library, searching through various books on quantum physics for the ones he wanted—the ones that would delve deeper into the theories he was most interested in and thought to be most helpful. He had a book in his hand that he was interested in but when he turned to look at the other shelf he ran into a person who was turning to look at the shelf he was on. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention—” 

He looked down where you were busy collecting your books from the floor and his jaw dropped and then clenched as his gaze hardened. You looked up at him at the same time and when you realized who it was you glared at him. 

“God, it’s like you’re trying to make my life absolutely miserable,” you hissed as you stood, stack of books in your arms and your book bag hanging on your shoulder. “Stay away from me!” 

“You make it sound like I was following you. I see you enough in class, there’s no way in hell I’d try to find you outside of it. You stay away from me.”

Neither of you said anything for a long moment, you just glared at each other in the middle of the physics aisle of the library, several books about quantum physics in your hands. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You were suddenly very aware of how heavily he was breathing and the way your own chest rose and fell quickly. 

Your mind drifted between anger and arousal as you stared at him. You’d never really taken the time to look at him before. Never noticed how attractive he was. Sure, you’d known he was pretty, but standing inches away from you, eyes dark with anger, jaw clenched and dyed blonde hair tousled from running his fingers through it, you couldn’t ignore that he was hot as fuck. But you’d never let him win. Not without a fight at the very least. 

“Get out of my way.” His voice was low as he spoke, words spoken almost carefully, yet laced with venom. 

“No.”

His eyes narrowed and he scoffed. “Move.” 

“Make me.”

There was something new in his eyes now, something different than anger. He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the aisle behind him. He checked out his book and waited for you to get yours sorted out and then he continued to drag you out of the library. You didn’t know where he was taking you, and you knew you should be struggling or asking him to leave you alone. But you were curious to see what he was going to do and he just looked so hot—you felt dazed. 

“Where are we going?” 

“You want to act like a brat? Then I’m going to treat you like one.” His gaze softened ever so slightly as he looked back at you. “I-I mean, if you want to come with me. Fuck, what am I doing.” He let go of your wrist and took a stumbling step back, worry taking over his features. 

You reached back out for him. “I want to come. A-are we going to your place?” 

“Yeah,” his voice was soft now and he looked down where you were holding his hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so angry—”

“I thought it was hot,” you shrugged, smirking at him. He looked away, but you could still see the blush that had formed across his cheeks.

You didn’t say anything else the rest of the walk and he didn’t either. He didn’t let go of your hand, but you didn’t protest. You liked the feeling of his hand in yours. He looked calmer now, but you could still see traces of the anger in his eyes. 

The walk to his apartment was relatively short, but that was mostly thanks to the fact that he had long legs and had been walking quickly, leaving you to jog slightly to keep up with him. When you got to his apartment, you barely had time to look around before he was telling you to set your stuff down and follow him. 

You stepped out of your shoes, draped your coat over the back of the couch, and left your bag and library books on the kitchen counter. He had already disappeared to another part of the small apartment, but it wasn’t hard to find him—after all, it was only a one bedroom apartment. You took a deep breath before you walked into his room. The deep breath, in hindsight, was a great idea because the second you crossed the threshold you were pushed against the wall, pinned there by Hyunjin whose eyes were now as dark and heavy as before. 

“You make me so infuriated.” Hyunjin’s breath was hot against your neck as he leaned in, forehead resting against your shoulder as he spoke. “I really can’t stand you.” 

You were having a hard time focusing with him this close to you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “I can’t stand you.”

He scoffed and pressed a brief kiss to your neck and you stiffened, not wanting him to notice the shiver that snaked down your spine at the contact. 

“Really? ‘S that why you’re always picking fights?” 

“You’re the one who always starts fights, dipshit. I’m just trying to defend myself.” You breathed in sharply when he nipped at your neck, sucking a dark mark into your skin. 

“Mmm,” he pressed kisses to your jaw, laughing darkly as he spoke again. “You love the attention, though. Otherwise you’d just ignore me. You like that I spend my time paying attention to you and no one else.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to try and suppress the moan that made its way up your throat. “N-no.” 

“No? Hm, then I guess you won’t mind if I send you home now.” 

“W-wait.” You cursed yourself inside your head. You should’ve left. What were you doing? “I… Maybe I do like it… a little bit.” 

What were you saying? You felt like your mouth was speaking faster than your brain could process what you were even saying. Your body was speaking for you and you knew you were acting irrationally. But somehow… you didn’t care. 

“Of course you do. You’ve always been a little obsessed with me, haven’t you?” 

Hyunjin’s hand slid from where it was resting on the wall behind you, moving to hold your hip and then up under your shirt to hold your waist. You shuddered at the feeling of his cold fingers against your bare skin, his blunt nails dragging up your side gave you goosebumps. 

“I—” You whined, unable to think straight and cursing yourself for allowing him to seduce you. “N-no. Not obsessed.” 

“Oh, come on now. You can be honest with me. Stop fucking denying everything,” The teasing tone of his voice made your legs shake. You’d always hated that stupid smirk and his stupid teasing, but in this context it just made you unreasonably wet. 

“I-I just… I can’t back down from a fight.” 

Hyunjin scoffed but didn’t push you anymore. Though he wanted to tease you more, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait. “I can’t wait anymore. But I need to be sure that you’re okay with this.”

“You, the biggest dick I’ve ever met, are asking for my consent?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wished you could take them back. It was basic human decency and though you thought Hyunjin was an arrogant asshole you didn’t really think he was below human decency. You hadn’t meant to accuse him of being someone so terrible.

“Well, I mean, yeah.” Hurt flashed briefly across his face and you felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of your stomach. But it was quickly replaced by the dark, lustful gaze he’d sported up until that point. “Though, I really do hope you say yes.” 

And of course, with how riled up you were at this point, how could you say no to him? So you nodded quickly, moving to pull your shirt over your head, only for him to stop you. You looked at him confused, brows furrowed as you tried to figure out what was going through his mind. 

“I need to hear you say it, pretty.” 

“I…” It took a lot to swallow your pride, especially since you’d tried so hard for so long to come across as an enemy of Hyunjin’s. “I want this, want you. I need you.” 

That was all it took for him to take the hem of your shirt from your hands and tug it over your head, pulling his own off immediately after. His hands were all over you, your hips, your waist, your boobs, as he kissed you fervently, tongue intertwined with yours. He grabbed your throat, pulling away from you. His grip wasn’t tight enough to block off any of your air, but just having his hand wrapped around your throat made you whimper. 

“I want to take my time with you, but I don’t think I can,” Hyunjin groaned against your lips, breath heavy as he pulled away for air. 

“Then don’t,” you gasped, pulling him closer to you, “You don’t have to go slow.” 

He shook his head then, looking you in the eyes with an expression more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. “But we’ll go back to hating each other after this. So I don’t want to rush it. I want to enjoy you for a little bit before we’re fighting tooth and nail again.” 

Your heart pounded uncomfortably against your ribcage, but you pushed the feeling away. You didn’t answer him, only pulled his lips to yours once more. You didn’t want to think about your rivalry. You had, admittedly, been feeling restless lately, all pent up. Though it was with someone you considered your rival, you were more than a little desperate for relief. 

Hyunjin guided you away from the wall and to his bed where he laid you down surprisingly gently. You watched as he tugged his pants and underwear down his legs, eyes fixed on his hardened dick. He was bigger than you would have thought. Not that you’d ever thought about how big his dick was. At least, not consciously. 

You shimmied out of your own pants and looked up at him, observing the way he jerked himself off a few times, head thrown back, before leaning over you to grab a condom from his bedside table. You pouted, intending on teasing him, “You’re not even going to stretch me out first?” 

He paused, still reaching over you for the condom. He looked a little embarrassed as he sat back on his heels in front of you, condom waiting on the bedside table while you watched him. He laid in between your legs, prying them apart a little so that he could fit comfortably. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, eyes fixed on your dripping cunt. “It’s been awhile since I… I guess I just got a little ahead of myself. Do you just want me to stretch you with my fingers or do you want my mouth too?” 

“Both.” 

He swallowed thickly, but didn’t protest. He leaned in, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue before wrapping his lips around your clit, fingers coming to circle your clenching hole. You couldn’t help the moan that squeezed its way out of your throat. Of course he was good at this. You might feel angry about it afterwards—feel ruined for anyone else—but for now you were too lost in how good it felt. 

He pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring them open to stretch you, little by little. He moaned when he felt how tight you were and you groaned back when you felt it against your clit. When he felt you were ready, he added another finger. You felt so full and yet not full enough. 

You pushed his face away when you felt close to cumming and he looked up at you with wide, concerned eyes. The kind of eyes you couldn’t look at for too long unless you wanted to fall for him. Which you certainly did not want. 

“Are you okay?” 

You nodded and pulled him up to you, kissing him and tasting yourself on his lips. “Mmm, yeah. I just want you inside now.” 

His stupid smirk was back. You didn’t have to tell him twice. He reached for the condom again and ripped it open using his teeth. Your whole body shivered in anticipation. He held himself over you and you took a moment to observe his body. You realized he was more muscular than you’d thought he was. His clothes hid the muscles that you could now see—they hid the abs that tightened and flexed as he rolled the condom onto his cock, hid the muscles of his biceps and forearms that were so visible as he held himself up over you. 

“It might sting a little, but I’ll go slow.” 

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked away from his body to watch his face as he positioned his dick at your entrance. He wasn’t looking back at you, though, his eyes were focused on watching his dick slide into you. He groaned as he pushed in, inch by inch. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, wanting to ground yourself. It didn’t sting, but the fullness was a feeling like no other. It was overwhelming and everything you’d ever needed all at once. You hated how perfect he felt. Of course he was great at this too. He was just good at everything. And you hated it. 

“M-move,” you gasped after only a moment. He’d bottomed out not even a second before and you were already asking for more. 

“Such a naughty girl, aren’t you? Already asking for more. I’ll give it to you, but only because I need this just as much as you do.”

He pounded into you, finding his rhythm quickly. He watched you closely paying attention to what made you moan louder. He adjusted his position and angle every so often, searching for something that would make you feel as good as he did. He may have been your rival, but he wasn’t cruel. Sex was supposed to feel good for both parties involved. 

“How’s that? Bet you wish you’d been nicer to me now, hm?” He continued to speak, but you could hardly focus on the words coming out of his mouth, too lost in how good he was making you feel. “Maybe if you’d been nice to me we could’ve been doing this regularly instead of bickering over fucking homework.” 

The tip of his dick nudged your sweet spot and you cried out, clinging to his back and whining his name. It stroked his ego and made his smirk widen but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Pl-please I’m so, so close. Please, don’t stop.” 

“Fuck, I won’t. I can’t. Cunt’s too perfect. You feel so good. You’d be perfect if you didn’t have such a fucking attitude.” 

“W-well if you weren’t such an arrogant assh—” You couldn’t finish your thought as he slammed into that perfect spot again and again, chasing his own high and hoping to push you over the edge too. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled, never slowing down, even as he reached between your bodies to rub at your clit, just perfectly. His stamina was impressive, unlike anyone else you’d ever been with. “I like you better when you don’t say anything other than my name. Say it again for me.” 

You couldn’t resist. You knew it turned him on and it also benefited you. “Hyunjin. God, it feels so good. You feel so good.”

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t, and honestly, neither could you. His stamina surprised you—how was he even able to maintain the pace he’d set for himself? Other guys could never. Not only that, he seemed to be holding himself back from his own climax, like he was waiting for you. And the other guys you’d been with certainly were incapable of that. 

“F-fuck, Hyunjin, I’m cumming,” you finally gasped out, wrapping yourself around him tightly in an attempt to have him as deep inside of you as you could. 

“That’s it,” he murmured lowly, fucking you through your high, “Cum for me. Be a good girl for once in your fucking life and cum.” 

While you came down, you felt him fill the condom inside of you, hips stilling. He lowered himself slowly, avoiding crushing you beneath his weight. You were trying to catch your breath, staring at the ceiling. Beside you, Hyunjin didn’t even sound like he was out of breath at all. 

“How are you not exhausted?” you finally asked, looking over at him to find him already looking at you. 

He shrugged, signature smirk plastered on his lips once again. “I could go all day, babe.” 

You groaned and pushed him off of you, stumbling to your feet. He frowned as he watched you get up. He was quick to stand too, grabbing your hand silently and leading you to the bathroom. While you used the toilet, he grabbed a washcloth and soaked it in warm water. 

“At least let me help clean you up before you go. You don’t want to be all sticky and gross,” he mumbled, wiping the last traces of arousal from your body before tossing the washcloth in the hamper and helping you back to his room so you could put your clothes back on. 

You were already starting to feel sore and you were sure you’d feel it for the rest of the week at least. Fuck him for leaving such an impact on your body. You were right before. He’d definitely ruined you for anyone else. 

“You did what?” Yeji’s jaw was almost on the ground when you told her about your afternoon with Hyunjin. You were sitting at the kitchen counter with your head in your hands, guilt starting to kick in. But you weren’t sure if you were guilty that you had sex with your enemy or guilty that you enjoyed it. 

“I know,” you groaned looking at her. “It was stupid, but I… We both just… needed to let off some steam I guess. It just happened. Fuck, I hate him.” 

“Clearly not as much as you thought you did.” 

Her words made you pause. Because she was right. Clearly, you didn’t hate him as much as you’d thought you did if you were willing to have sex with him. But there was no way in hell you would admit it that easily. “He’s the biggest fucking asshole known to mankind, so why the hell would I ever let his stupid face and stupid smile and stupid laugh and stupid everything consume my brain? It was a one time thing, I swear.” 

Yeji just nodded. “I know, I know. He’s a dick. But you had sex with him. So you can’t deny there’s some sort of attraction.” 

“What am I going to say to the other girls?” You laid your head down on the counter, suddenly feeling stressed. Why did you even care what they thought? It didn’t matter if you were attracted to Hyunjin or not, he was still an ass and nothing he could say or do would change that. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to them if you don’t feel like it.” 

You’d always appreciated that about Yeji—that she never made you feel like you had to share the parts of yourself you were uncomfortable sharing. She was kind and understanding and would never force you to tell people anything you didn’t want them to know. And she’d never share your secrets either. 

“Anyways,” she turned towards the stove, turning it on so that the pot of water she’d set there previously could come to a boil. “I’m making ramyeon. Do you want some?” 

“Sure.” You watched as Yeji made food and neither of you spoke about Hyunjin again for the rest of the evening. 

“Dude, you what?” Hyunjin cringed as Jisung all but yelled in his ear, looking away in embarrassment at his friend’s confrontation. “I mean, I know I told you to go let off some steam, but I didn’t expect it to be with her.” 

“I-it was an accident. She was being infuriating a-and I’ve been feeling so pent up lately and one thing led to another and—”

“Okay, you can stop there. I don’t want to hear the details of your sex escapade with your so-called enemy.” Jisung held up his hand before taking a large bite of the food in front of him. Hyunjin had invited him over again for the evening so that he could talk to him, maybe get some advice. That was his first mistake, honestly. Jisung wasn’t the best at advice, even if his heart was in the right place. 

“Right. Sorry.” 

“Wait, so, let me ask you one thing. Do you hate yn, or not? Because I can’t see how you’d have sex with someone you genuinely despised.” 

“I do. I-I mean, I thought I did. I don’t know? I-I’m so confused lately…” Hyunjin dropped his head into his hands, head spinning and thoughts dragging him in a million different directions. 

“Maybe you should talk to h—”

“Are you crazy?” Hyunjin looked at Jisung like he’d grown a second head. “She hates me. Even if I don’t hate her, there’s no way I can talk to her about it. She’d probably yell at me and tell me to leave her alone.”

Jisung was quiet for a moment but then he spoke with wisdom Hyunjin didn’t know he even had. “I think she’d be more upset if you ignored her afterwards. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would be okay with being ignored after being so intimate with someone.” 

“I…” 

Hyunjin knew that Jisung was right, but he wasn’t sure if he could face you. How was he supposed to explain himself? Explain what happened? How was he supposed to explain that what was once so clear to him was now blurred and grey? And how was he supposed to accept it if you yelled at him and reminded him of the hatred you held in your heart for him?

“I don’t think I can.” 

Jisung shrugged and sighed. Hyunjin knew he was disappointed. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

You jumped when you heard a small tapping noise against your bedroom window. You’d been studying at your desk, trying to wrap your mind around the quantum physics textbooks you’d borrowed from the library. You looked over at the window, expecting nothing to be there—after all, it was late, maybe you’d just imagined it. But to your surprise, there on the fire escape was Spider-Man. 

You were quick to stand, opening up the window, worried he may be hurt or need help. When you’d forced the window up enough for him to crawl in, you moved back, allowing him to enter your bedroom. You locked your bedroom door in case Yeji tried to come in, for some reason. “What are you doing here?” 

“I was patrolling and I wanted to check in on you. I… uh, I saw you through the window.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, sheepishly. “N-not that I was, you know, watching you. I just… looked over and you were there. I wanted to make sure you were… okay.” 

You smiled as he continued rambling, finding it cute how nervous he was in front of you. A literal superhero? Nervous around you? It was like a dream. “I’m okay.” 

“Cool…” He was quiet for a long moment before he turned back toward the window. “W-well since that’s all I came here for—” 

“Wait! Y-you don’t have to leave yet… if you don’t want to.” 

You surprised yourself. For the second time in one day, words were tumbling out of your mouth faster than your brain could process what you were saying. He seemed surprised that you were offering to let him stay, but his body, once rigid with anxiety, relaxed as he moved toward you. 

Before you really knew what was happening, you were both sitting on the floor as he explained quantum physics to you, making the occasional joke and teasing you when you struggled with concepts. Everything about talking to him was comfortable and somehow… familiar. You couldn’t put your finger on it. 

After over an hour of working on physics, the two of you were sitting in silence. He was looking around at your room, observing what you had tacked to your walls, what books were on your bookshelf, the pictures you had on your desk. You watched him quietly. “Is it… lonely being a superhero? I mean. You can’t really… tell people about it. Is it hard to have to keep such a big part of your life to yourself?” 

“It… was. But I’ve learned to handle it on my own. I’m used to it. Besides, it’s not like I don’t have friends when I’m not Spider-Man.” 

“Right.” You felt suddenly embarrassed—you hadn’t meant to offend him. 

“It’s okay. Spider-Man does take up a lot of time so, even though I have friends, I don’t really see them that often. Honestly, I wonder sometimes if they even consider me a friend anymore.” His words made you sad, but as you were about to say something, he stood walking towards the window. “I should… probably go. It’s late and you should rest.” 

“Yeah. Um, you’re always welcome to… stop by whenever you want. I could use the company. And the help with physics.” 

You could picture a smile stretched across his lips. You could hear it when he spoke. “If I’ve ever got an opening in my calendar, I’ll be sure to drop by.” 

You smiled too and watched as he climbed back out the window, swinging into the night. Even when you couldn’t see him anymore, you stared into the dark night, running through the events of the evening in your head. You closed your window and unlocked your door, peeking out to see if Yeji was still up (she wasn’t). When you finally laid down in your bed, you fell asleep easily, thoughts of the red and blue clad hero running through your mind.

When you woke the next morning you were still feeling giddy over your night spent with Spider-Man. You had a skip in your step as you entered your classroom. Not even Hyunjin could ruin your mood today. You sat down at your seat behind him and prepared your things for class. You briefly noticed the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. It seemed he was in a good mood too. 

For a moment, memories of the day before flashed in your mind and you shivered, squeezing your legs together and willing the thoughts to go away. He was quiet for several minutes before he turned around to look at you. For the first time, his eyes held sincerity rather than the usual mischievous glint they usually did. 

“Uh, yn, about yesterday—”

“Let’s just forget about it,” you cut him off, already feeling heat rising to your cheeks as he spoke. “That’s what you were going to say, right?” 

Confusion and defeat flashed in his eyes, but he dismissed it and you pretended you hadn’t noticed it. He swallowed thickly and nodded, offering you a half smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes the way his earlier smile had. “R-right. Forget it.” 

He turned around in his seat again and didn’t bother you the rest of the class period. For a moment, his lack of enthusiasm and the fact that he wasn’t bothering you concerned you. Was something seriously wrong? Maybe you were just overanalyzing it. You should be grateful he was letting you have some peace. Still, it didn’t feel quite right.

“Alright, I’ll be putting you in groups of two or three for our upcoming end of semester project. These groups were randomly generated and are non-negotiable.” Your professor’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You listened carefully, hoping with everything in you that you didn’t get put in a group with Hyunjin. Unfortunately, it would seem luck was not on your side. “Hyunjin, you’ll be paired up with yn.” 

You knew that your professor was well aware of your rivalry, having had to break up your quarrels in the past, so it surprised you that when you’d been randomly put into a group they had allowed it. You desperately wanted to protest and ask for a different partner, but considering your professor had already mentioned that the groups were non-negotiable, you kept your mouth shut, silently stewing over it.

When class ended, you didn’t pack up as quickly as you normally would, lingering just a little to see if Hyunjin would say anything before you left. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to mention the group project or the night before. But he didn’t mention either, instead opting to ignore you entirely, so you left, hiding outside the door to wait for him to leave. Maybe he’d talk to Jisung about what was wrong. For a moment, you questioned yourself. What were you doing? Why did you want to know what was wrong so badly? He’d only ever been annoying and rude to you, so why did you care if he was sad or not?  

You convinced yourself that you didn’t care, you just wanted something to hold over his head. You heard Jisung’s voice by the doorway, but it seemed as if they’d paused there for a moment, not crossing the threshold of the door. “So she said you should just forget it?” 

“I told you she would,” Hyunjin’s voice responded, sounding snappier than earlier. He sighed and you could imagine him running a hand over his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, I’m just… on edge, I guess. It’s been a long week.”

“Is it because of the Sp—”

“For fuck’s sake Jisung, you have got to stop bringing that up when we’re in public,” Hyunjin sighed, cutting his friend’s words short. 

“Right, right… But, is it?” 

You could picture Hyunjin nodding in response and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was. “Yeah, it is. But stop talking about that in public, or I swear to God, I will revoke all your privileges.” 

You heard them walk past and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. You stayed behind the door a little longer to ensure that they were long gone before you revealed yourself. As you walked to your next class, you couldn’t stop thinking about what Hyunjin and Jisung had been talking about. You knew you had no right to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t change what you’d already done, and now your curiosity was killing you. What had Hyunjin so on edge? 

Hyunjin didn’t bother you for the rest of the week. Or the rest of the next. Or the rest of the week after that. He only spoke to you when you had to work on your class project together. It felt strange to you, but you didn’t question it. After all, you’d been complaining for years about how he wouldn’t leave you alone. Wasn’t this everything you’d asked for? Still though, it felt odd when he was civil with you over the project rather than teasing you and driving you to your wit’s end. 

You were seated on the floor of his bedroom, working on the project and feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he rushed to get his work done. You couldn’t help but feel like you were bothering him. Weren’t you supposed to be working on this together? Did he really hate being around you that much?

“What’s the rush? We still have a couple weeks before this is due,” you finally asked, looking over at him intently and trying to read his blank expression. 

“I just want to hurry and get this stupid project over with.” 

You scoffed, looking away again and trying not to show how much his words hurt you. “Yeah, believe me, I want to get this shit done too, but if we hurry it along too much it won’t be done well.”

“Speak for yourself,” he mumbled, typing in the slideshow you’d created for the two of you. “I can finish this in half the time and get a better score than you ever could.” 

“Fine, if you’re so perfect, you finish it!” You stood, wiping away angry tears as you gathered your things. You hated that you were crying. You were just so frustrated with him. You honestly preferred the Hyunjin that relentlessly teased you. He was better than the Hyunjin who snapped at you and stared blankly when you spoke to him. He was cruel now and you hated that.

“Wait, a-are you crying?” 

You glared at him and stormed out of his room, not bothering to answer him. Once you were out of his apartment building and walking down the street you allowed yourself to cry. You wiped at your eyes as you walked, struggling to see in front of you as you cried. 

The next day in class, Hyunjin didn’t speak to you at all except to tell you that he had, in fact, finished the entire project and all you needed to do was memorize your parts so you could present well. You just nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat. You refused to let him see you cry again. He wasn’t worth it. 

The next couple weeks passed quickly and you memorized your part of the presentation perfectly. When you and Hyunjin presented, you earned a perfect score and it was back to never speaking a word to one another. Weeks turned into months and Hyunjin continued to ignore you as you did the same to him. 

Though your mind was occasionally distracted by thinking about how Hyunjin had ignored you for almost two months now, you didn’t think about it too often, you had convinced yourself you simply didn’t care. Instead, you thought about the hero clad in red and blue who you had, recently, spent many evenings with. It wasn’t every day that he came knocking on your window, but several nights a week, he came by, offering to help you with your physics homework and keep you company. He had become someone you confided in and a shoulder you cried on when Hyunjin was being particularly insufferable.

It was one of those nights, but unfortunately, instead of devoting your attention to the hero in your bedroom, your mind was far, far away, thinking of Hyunjin who hadn’t said a single word to you in two months, hadn’t looked in your general direction, and constantly looked exhausted. Something had to be going on, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. And you didn’t even know why you cared. You weren’t friends—far from it—and yet you couldn’t help but worry. 

“What’s on your mind?” Spider-Man’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “You’re a million miles away, right now.” 

You shook your head, trying to clear the last of your thoughts about Hyunjin away so you could focus on the man in front of you. “It’s nothing. Just a classmate of mine.” 

“The one who’s always bothering you?”

“Well, yeah, but… he hasn’t talked to me in months. Hasn’t even looked at me. And if it had happened at the beginning of the semester, I probably would have been rejoicing right now, but things happened and now I’m just… worried.” You played with your fingers as you rambled. You hadn’t meant to admit just how much you’d been thinking about Hyunjin, how much you’d noticed his sudden lack of interest in you. But Spider-Man didn’t even know Hyunjin, so you felt safe telling him about it. 

“What happened?” 

“I—well, we…” Your face grew unbearably warm as you thought about what had happened between the two of you that had completely shifted your mindset when it came to him. “We, kind of, maybe had sex.”

“Oh.” Spider-Man didn’t sound judgemental or disappointed, just… surprised. It was like that had been the last thing he’d been thinking of that could have happened between you and your rival. And it probably was. After all, who had sex with someone they supposedly despised? “A-and that’s why you’re… worried about him? What, did you have, like, an STD or something?”

“No! Oh my god, no. We used a condom anyway. No, I’m worried because…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. I’m worried because I think I like him. The unspoken words hung in the air, and the silence thickened. He seemed to understand what you meant by your facial expression alone. 

“Damn, he was that good?” 

You choked on air, embarrassed all of a sudden that you were talking about how you had sex with Hyunjin. “I-I guess. I mean he… well I… I’m not inexperienced when it comes to… that but even if I haven’t been with a lot of guys, I’ve been with enough and I just didn’t expect it to be… like that.” 

“Like what?” His voice was soft. You weren’t sure why he was so interested in knowing your answer. But you hadn’t really opened up about your afternoon with Hyunjin all those months ago, not even to Yeji, and it felt nice to finally be talking about it. 

“Like he cared about getting me off too. A lot of the guys I’ve been with… really only cared about themselves and their own pleasure, but Hyunjin… he wanted me to finish. And he had so much stamina. He went full-out the whole time, it was like he had some sort of… super stamina or something. It was just… so good and now I’m starting to realize that maybe I—”

“Do you like him?” Spider-Man all but breathed, still sitting a few feet away from you. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide. You hadn’t felt like you could say it, but with him bringing it up, it was like the floodgates had opened. “I do. I think that… maybe I have all this time, I just convinced myself I hated him because that was easier than admitting I liked him. Liking him meant that I could get hurt. But I guess I… still got hurt in the end. He’s been even more of an asshole since it happened.”

Spider-Man was quiet and you suddenly realized what you were saying and who you were saying it to. You sat up straighter, about to apologize when he looked up at you. You wished you could see his face, wished you could read his expression. “I’m sorry he hurt you.” 

“I-It’s not your fault, I—”

“I’m still sorry.” 

The two of you sat in silence a little longer. He fiddled with a pencil that he’d taken from your desk and you stared blankly at the physics homework laid out in front of you. It was quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop, even on the carpet of your room. You weren’t sure if you should feel awkward that you’d just talked so openly about having sex with your classmate to a superhero, but Spider-Man made you feel so comfortable you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

Thirty more minutes passed and you worked on your physics homework in silence while Spider-Man watched, silently correcting you every now and then. When you finally finished your assignment, he stood, stretching his arms above his head. 

“I should probably go. Even I need to sleep sometimes.” 

You nodded in understanding, watching him make his way to your window, “Make sure you rest soon. Don’t stay up too late after you get home.”

“I won’t stay up too late.” You wished you could see the smile that you heard in his voice. “You should sleep too. And… don’t let that prick keep you up at night.” 

“I won’t let him keep me up.” 

He gave you a quick wave before disappearing into the night. You stared out the window for a few more minutes, but then you closed it and turned off the lights, slipping into your bed and trying to fall asleep. 

Thoughts plagued you, and you found that nothing could lull you to sleep. With a sigh you sat up, pulling out your phone. You stared at the contact you’d opened. Hyunjin’s. You had his number from when you’d been forced to work with him for the class project. You didn’t know if he’d even saved yours. Why were you considering messaging him? Your thumbs were moving over your screen and before you really even registered what you were doing, you had sent Hyunjin a message. 

You set your phone down on your night stand, heart beating out of your chest. You were confused and excited and scared and worried. Hyunjin had been the biggest asshole ever only two short months ago. He had ignored you since then. You weren’t even friends. What were you doing? 

The voice in your head whispered that you liked him, even if he hated you. And if he was willing to spend one more night with you, you would take it. You couldn’t get him out of your head, you couldn’t get that day out of your head. No one had ever made you feel the way he had. And as awful of a person as he was, you knew he was the only person who could put you to sleep the way you wanted.

Your heart pounded again. Hyunjin was coming over. You sat up, realizing you still had homework all over the floor and your room was a mess. You all but jumped out of bed, racing to pick up the odds and ends that were lying around and cluttering up your room. You finished putting things away and sprayed your room with air freshener just as he knocked on the door to your apartment. 

Luckily for you, Yeji was gone, spending the night at Ryujin’s apartment. She’d figured out you had been having someone over in the evenings the past few months, though she didn’t know who, so she’d been giving you space whenever she heard someone in your room with you. That meant you had the apartment to yourself that night. And if things happened the way you had implied they might… that would definitely be a good thing. 

“Hi,” you breathed out as you opened the door. You were slightly out of breath, having run around your room like a chicken with your head cut off, but if Hyunjin noticed, he didn’t mention it. 

You stepped aside so Hyunjin could enter your apartment and he bowed slightly as he entered out of politeness. “Hey. I love your place.”

“O-Oh thanks,” you stammered, not expecting his words. It was strange. You’d been at each other’s throats months ago, and now he was being polite? “I share the place with Yeji.” 

To be honest, you weren’t really sure if he even knew who Yeji was. But the likelihood of him knowing her was high, considering he was fairly popular at your university and you only hung out with the same five people. He nodded, seeming to recognize Yeji’s name, as he looked around. He turned to face you, smiling gently. It was so different from his typical smirk that it caught you off guard. 

“Where’s your room?” 

You blinked a couple times before snapping out of your daze and leading him to your bedroom. “Right, uh, this way. The bathroom is right here, in between Yeji’s room and mine. And, this is my room. It’s not much, but… it’s more than enough for me.” 

He looked around your room like it was the first time he’d seen it and you reminded yourself that it was the first time he was seeing your room. You swallowed as he looked at your desk, fingers brushing lightly over the trinkets that decorated it before he fixed his eyes on the pictures and posters hanging on the wall above your bed. 

“It’s cute,” he turned to face you again, still smiling softly, “I like it. Very…you.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” 

You felt nervous watching Hyunjin wander around your room, inspecting pictures and observing the random knick-knacks you had lying around. Even though he’d already said that he liked your room, you were worried that maybe he didn’t mean it. Or maybe he would change his mind. For the nth time that evening you wondered why you even cared. You swallowed as he sat down on your bed, looking at you and smirking. “Are you just going to stand there all night?” 

“N-no.” You cursed the way your voice shook, cursed the way your legs wobbled as you walked towards your bed, sitting next to him and trying to breathe normally. 

“Why did you want to see me?” Hyunjin’s voice was soft as he leaned in closer, observing the way your breath hitched when he was close. He knew the reason, but he wanted you to say it. “Why did you want me to come over?” 

“I-I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to be alone so I—”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Tell me the truth.” 

You couldn’t help but think about how familiar his voice was. Not in a Hyunjin way, but in another way. One you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His voice was so soft, so familiar. The reason was on the tip of your tongue and yet not close enough for you to grab onto. You swallowed again and tried to force your heartbeat to slow down. 

“I just… wanted you.” 

“Wanted me?” Hyunjin leaned away again, still smirking—a look you were all too familiar with. “Wanted me, how?” 

You whimpered, turning to look at him with a pout. “Please, don’t make me say it.” 

“Hm, but how can I give you what you want if I don’t even know what it is?” He pouted back at you, mockingly. The tone of his voice and the way he made fun of you sent a shiver down your spine. You clung to him then, desperate. 

“Please, Hyunjin. I want… want you to fuck me.” 

“Yeah? You been thinking about it since the first time? That was over two months ago, babe, you could’ve asked a long time ago. So why didn’t you? Were you too proud?” 

You buried your face in his neck, so turned on by the way he talked down to you that you felt like crying, “I-I didn’t think you would want me. I thought you hated me. And, full offense by the way, you’ve been acting like a complete asshole. Of course I couldn’t bring myself to ask and I was… I don’t know, scared you’d say no o-or laugh at me.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” his voice was so condescending and yet, comforting. “I might have laughed at you, but I wouldn’t have said no. The truth is, I’ve been thinking about it a lot the past couple of months. Been thinking about you.”

“Really? Y-you thought of me?” 

“Almost everyday. Right when I woke up, just before falling asleep, every time I touched myself. You’ve been driving me crazy.” When you looked up at Hyunjin in shock, he leaned down and nudged at your neck with his nose. “It’s no excuse, but honestly, I think it’s why I’ve been shittier than usual. Sucks when all I can think about is the one person I can’t ever have.” 

“O-oh my god,” you whimpered, unable to say anything else with him so close to you.

“Fuck, you smell so good. I forgot how good you smelled.” Hyunjin all but panted as he nipped at your neck before sucking a deep purple mark into your skin. “Been thinking about having you like this for so long.” 

You gasped, fingers quickly finding their place in his hair as he pulled the neckline of your shirt aside, kissing down to your collarbones. “You look so fucking pretty, yn, so pretty. Wearing next to nothing, just for me.”

He was right about both things—you were wearing next to nothing and it was for him. You’d only worn a t-shirt and your underwear and while you hadn’t purposefully chosen what you were wearing for him, you hadn’t changed into something else, knowing he was coming over.

“Hyunjin,” you cried, “Hyunnie, I need you.” 

“Hyunnie?” He pulled away looking at you with a growing grin. 

“S-sorry, I—”

“No it’s okay,” he kissed your neck again before brushing your hair away from your face, “I like it. Call me Hyunnie.”

He was so tender that for a moment you forgot about your rivalry with him entirely. You felt overwhelmed by how much you liked him. And with the way he was looking at you, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get over him any time soon. You whined again, pulling at the hem of his shirt. You wanted it off. 

“Off. Want to see you, Hyunnie.” 

He laughed and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before tugging his shirt over his head, exposing his toned chest and stomach to you. You were quick to press hot, open-mouthed kisses all over his bare skin, wanting him to feel as good as he had made you feel. He groaned then, head falling back against the headboard of your bed, “Fuck, yn, you’re so hot. Never had anyone as good as you.” 

“Promise?” You stopped, looking at him with your head tilted to the side slightly. “Promise I’m your best?” 

“The very best. My best girl,” his voice was soft as he looked down at you, a gentle smile spread across his lips. He looked so different like this. He looked like he cared. 

“Your best girl,” you echoed, sounding dazed. His fingers brushed across your cheek, almost as if he was afraid to touch you, afraid that you’d leave or disappear if he wasn’t careful. “Yours.”

He hummed, pulling you into his lap to kiss him again, “Mmm, mine.”

His hands rested on your hips, holding you down against his hardening dick as he licked across your bottom lip. You moaned softly, opening your mouth for him so he could slide his tongue in, tangling with yours. His breath was hot and unsteady as you ground against him, growing wetter as he grew harder. 

“Want to take my shirt off,” you breathed against his mouth, not even opening your eyes as you continued kissing him between words. “Can I?”

“Of course, sweet girl. So good of you to ask, darling.” Hyunjin played with the hem of your shirt as he answered before helping to pull it over your head. 

Once your shirt was off, Hyunjin was quick to grab your boobs, fingers playing with your nipples as he continued to kiss you desperately. You felt so overwhelmed, pleasure flooding your senses and Hyunjin fared no better, he was so lost in how good it felt. 

Hyunjin’s dick was almost completely hard now as you ground your hips on top of him. If you looked down between you, you’d find the front of his sweatpants soaked with a mixture of his pre-cum and your own arousal. He groaned into your mouth as you moved against him. 

“Shit, you’re doing so good for me sweetheart,” he gasped, head falling back against the headboard again as you leaned in to suck and bite at his neck. His skin was so smooth, so pretty, you couldn’t keep yourself from moving to mark him up. Even though he wasn’t yours, you wanted to feel like he was. Wanted people to see him and know that he’d been with someone else. You wanted him off the market, as selfish as it sounded. 

“Need you, Hyunnie.” You sounded desperate to your own ears, and if you were in your right mind you would have cringed. “Need it inside.”

He was quick to set you aside, tugging his sweatpants off, revealing he hadn’t been wearing boxers underneath. You felt like your mouth might start watering as you stared at him, but you looked away when he laughed a little. You followed suit and shimmied out of your underwear, lying on the bed as he hovered over you. 

“Sweetheart, do you have a condom?” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you thought about it. You realized that you didn’t. This wasn’t exactly something you did very often. You felt so frustrated you could cry. “N-no, but I’m clean a-and I’m on the pill too so we still could if you wanted unless you don’t want to do it raw, which, I totally understand, but I—”

“Hey, hey,” he held your face in his hands, soft voice calming you down and effectively ending your rambling. “It’s okay. I’m clean too, I got tested recently to be safe. So if you’re okay with it, so am I.” 

You nodded and took a deep breath, trying to steady your heartbeat and your breathing. “Sorry, I’m such a mess I’m just… I don’t know, maybe I’m just desperate.”

“You’re okay, baby. I don’t mind you being desperate for me. But let’s establish a safe word or a system for you to tell me if it’s too much, yeah?” 

He was so sweet, it surprised you. He’d never been so kind or caring with you in all the years you’d known each other. You felt like you might cry again, but for a completely different reason this time. You just nodded again for him, holding on to his hand as you spoke. “M-maybe we could just use the traffic light system? Green for good, yellow for wait, and red for stop.” 

“Alright, let’s use that. Tell me if you’re anything other than green. What are you right now?” 

“Green,” you whispered, reaching up to pull him into another kiss, hoping it would calm your racing heart. “Definitely green.” 

He kissed you back for a few minutes while his fingers kneaded gentle circles into your hips. He slowly reached between your legs, two fingers prodding at your soaked entrance as his thumb rubbed small circles on your clit. “Gotta stretch you out really quickly, yeah? Just want you to feel good, don’t want to hurt you.” 

As he stretched you out, your mind wandered again to how much you liked him. You couldn’t remember the last time a guy had taken so much time to make you feel good, other than the last time you were with Hyunjin. It was overwhelming to be taken care of so well, especially by someone you’d thought hated you for the longest time. 

“Hyunnie,” you whispered, holding his wrist. 

“What is it? What’s your color?”

“I’m still green, I-I just… I’m ready for you now.”

He smiled up at you, a real, true smile. Your heart squeezed uncomfortably in your chest. You reached toward him, running your fingers through his hair and smiling back at him. He positioned his tip at your entrance, holding himself up over you with one hand while the other held your waist carefully. 

You moaned loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as he slid inside of you. He felt so perfect, you were certain you could never get enough of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you so that his chest pressed against yours. 

“Do you feel okay, sweetheart? Need me to wait?” 

He kissed your neck, the hand on your hip moving to hold your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. You shook your head, squeezing his hand. “N-no, please move.” 

“Tell me if I need to stop.” His voice, his gentle, sweet voice, was what made you moan again as he started thrusting into you slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you much more than you already were. 

“F-faster, Hyunnie.” 

He looked at you, eyes questioning, as he spoke, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you whined, moving to hold his hips and push him deeper into you. “Yes, I’m sure. I’m not glass, I won’t break.” 

“Okay,” his expression changed, lust darkening his gaze as he started to piston his hips into you. “But you still have to tell me if you need me to stop.” 

All you could do was whine and nod, clinging onto him tighter as he pounded into you. He hardly even had to adjust his position, it was like he remembered your body, remembered exactly where to hit to have you moaning and clenching around his cock. And he would never tell you but he did remember. How could he forget? He forced himself to remember every night, fucking his hand or his pillow or a fleshlight, pretending it was you.

“Hyunnie,” you whimpered, trying to hold onto his back as he thrusted hard and fast, just the way you wanted.

“What’s your color, sweet girl? You still doing okay?”

“Green. So, so green. God, you feel so good, Hyunnie,” you tried not to cry, knowing you’d feel so embarrassed if he saw you cry just because his dick felt good. “You’re so good.” 

Hyunjin reached down, hand snaking between your bodies so he could rub at your clit while he thrusted into you. “You gonna cum soon, pretty girl? My pretty baby. Cum for me, yeah?” 

It only took a little more stimulation to push you over the edge. You moaned out as you came, clenching tightly around him as his pace never faltered. “Hyunnie, I-I’m cumming.” 

“You’re so perfect,” Hyunjin groaned, chasing his own high and helping you through yours. “So, so perfect. You’ve done so well for me.”

“Hyunnie, want you to cum too,” you whined, looking up at him through wide, teary eyes.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m so close. Where do you want me to finish?” 

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, pleased with yourself when he shuddered ever so slightly. “Inside.” 

“God, fuck,” Hyunjin’s eyes squeezed shut as his hips stuttered, “I’m cumming now, pretty. Just for you. Fuck.” 

You whimpered as he filled you with his release. Nothing had ever felt as good as this, as good as him. He lowered himself on top of you slowly, so he wouldn’t hurt you, and you kept your arms wrapped tightly around him, keeping him as close to you as you could. You didn’t want him to go yet. You didn’t want him to go.

He kissed your neck whispering praise into your ear as your breathing returned to normal. Once again, you took note of the fact that he himself didn’t sound out of breath or tired in the slightest. He sighed against your skin, fingers absentmindedly tracing over your hip. “Let’s get you to the bathroom, okay?” 

“Mmm,” you were too tired to really speak, so you nodded. 

Hyunjin pulled out slowly, pressing kisses to your jaw when you whimpered at the overstimulation. He crawled off your bed and then helped you up, guiding you to your bathroom down the hall. He waited for you to be done before wetting a washcloth with warm water and helping to clean you up gently. Hyunjin helped you change into a clean pair of underwear and then tugged his own t-shirt over your head.

When you got back to your bedroom and laid in your bed once more, you tried to think of something to say to Hyunjin. He sat down on top of your covers, watching you tenderly, waiting for you to speak patiently. But when he realized you weren’t going to say anything, he spoke instead, hands playing with the blankets to keep himself from touching you again. 

“Do you want me to go?” 

His question was what made up your mind officially. You’d been conflicted. He hated you and you were pretending to hate him right back. At the same time, you didn’t want to be alone for the rest of the night. The decision hadn’t been clear at first, but now, with him so close and looking at you so gently, you knew that you wanted him to stay. 

So you shook your head, reaching out to pull him down beside you. “I want you to stay.”

“Okay,” he whispered, laying down beside you. “I’ll stay.” 

You laid together in silence for a long time, but you still couldn’t fall asleep. Your thoughts still plagued you. “Hyunjin?” 

“Hm?” 

“What… what are we?”

Hyunjin didn’t know what to say. What did you want to be? You didn’t know what to say either, because the truth was, you weren’t entirely sure what you’d been expecting in the first place. Only a few months you would have cringed at the thought of having sex with him. Now, you craved it. Before, you thought you hated him. Now, you had a feeling you were starting to fall in love with him, even if he was an arrogant asshole.

“Well…” Hyunjin cleared his throat and rolled over to look at you. “What do you want to be? Because a couple months ago, you wanted me to pretend like nothing had happened between us, so I’m honestly a little confused.” 

You felt like your heart was in your throat instead of your chest and you found it difficult to breathe as you tried to gather your thoughts. Were you getting rejected before you’d even really confessed? Stop overreacting.

“I… I only really said that because I thought you hated me. In my defense, after I said that you started acting even shittier than usual, so it felt valid at the time. I thought that if I was honest with you about how I felt, you’d just… tell me off. Which was, in hindsight, really stupid and childish of me and we probably would have avoided all of the frustration of the past couple months, but… I think this whole time I’ve just been pretending to hate you because it’s easier than getting my heart broken liking you.”

“You… like me?” 

“No, dipshit, I hate your fucking guts,” you sighed and pouted at him. “Yes, I like you. Did you not hear a word I just said?” 

“I-I heard you, I just… why do you like me?” Hyunjin looked stunned as your eyes met. Your gaze softened as you reached out a hand, holding his face gently. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve only ever been a dick to you. I-I’m not exactly nice and I—”

“I think that being mean might just be your facade too.” 

Hyunjin fell quiet after that and you did too, both of you unsure of what to say. You were starting to regret telling Hyunjin about your feelings. Maybe you should have told him to leave. Maybe asking him to stay was the worst idea you’d ever had. Maybe you were reading too much into the silence. Maybe, maybe, maybe. But then he spoke.

“I don’t know why we even started this stupid rivalry. But to be honest, I never hated you. I thought that you hated me, and to be honest, you’d been getting on my nerves. I’m sure I was on yours too. After a while, I just… didn’t know how to stop.” 

“I don’t think either of us knew how to stop it was just… familiar to fight, I guess.” 

Hyunjin nodded and sighed a little, voice sounding sad as he spoke. “Yeah, but I don’t… I don’t want to fight anymore.” 

“I don’t want to fight anymore either.” 

He looked up at you, eyes wide and full of hope. He was looking at you so tenderly you wondered if this moment was even real or just a dream. He reached over and brushed your hair away from your face, hand trailing down to caress your shoulder gently. 

“Can we… start fresh, then? Go from there?” 

His voice was careful, like he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. And you couldn’t help but agree with the offer. So you smiled at him and nodded slowly. “Yeah. We can start fresh.” 

The bright smile that stretched over his features made it worth it. He made it worth it. You knew you could put any disagreements, any bitterness, in the past if he just smiled at you like that everyday. Everything would be okay if he just smiled at you like that all the time. 

You sighed softly, leaning into him and closing your eyes. You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You heard Hyunjin sigh too before he pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead and closed his eyes too. “Goodnight, yn.”

“Night, Hyunnie,” you mumbled back, drifting off to sleep not long after. 

You woke up to Hyunjin shaking your arm, whispering frantically for you to wake up. “You have to hide. Now.”

“Why?” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to wake yourself up. You were confused, brain still hazy from sleep. His urgency did nothing to hurry you along. “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later, but right now you have to hide. Go somewhere safe. I’ll come back for you.” 

That woke you up. He would come back? “Where are you going?” 

“To get help. Do you trust me?” He held your arms, looking into your eyes, worry filling his own. When you nodded, he all but pulled you out of your bed, trying to shove you into your closet. “Then hide here and don’t come out until I get back.” 

The closet door closed just a loud crash resounded through your apartment. It sounded like it was coming from your living room. You huddled against the back corner of your closet in fear as thundering steps pounded towards your bedroom. You hoped Hyunjin had found somewhere safe to hide. 

You bit back a scream as a large shadowy figure ripped the closet door from its hinges, tossing it aside and peering into the dark closet. You held your breath as the dark, hunchbacked figure smelled the air, creeping into the closet. You pressed yourself further against the back wall, holding back a terrified whimper. 

The creature stopped a centimeter away from where you were hidden behind your hanging clothes. He smelled the air one last time and then lunged at you, pulling you out of your hiding spot. You screamed as he dragged you away, reaching for something, anything to hold onto. 

You realized the creature carrying wasn’t a person really, but rather some sort of inhuman monster. He smelled of rot and death, his large clawed hands dug into your skin just enough to draw blood and sting, and he was ginormous, scaling down the wall of your apartment building while still holding you under one arm. 

You cried as he carried you further and further away from your home, screaming for someone to help you. And just when you were worried you’d never be saved, the familiar thwip of a spider web filled your ears. The monster roared as he clawed at the webbing covering his eyes, grip on you only tightening. You cried out in pain as his claws punctured your skin even deeper. 

“Hey death breath!” Spider-Man called, swinging down from a building and kicking the creature square in the chest. “Let her go!” 

As the monster toppled over, howling as the breath was knocked from his lungs, his grip on you loosened enough for you to tear yourself away from him, running and stumbling over your own feet as you hid in an alleyway. You watched from around the corner as Spider-Man fought the creature, taunting him and making him angrier than before. 

You closed your eyes, ducking down behind a dumpster when they got closer to the alleyway where you were hiding. With your eyes closed, you focused on Spider-Man’s voice, hoping it would calm you. But when you focused on his voice, really focused on it, you realized why he’d always sounded so familiar. 

Your eyes shot open just as Spider-Man finished wrapping the monster in webbing, calling someone to pick the monster up (some organization he’d told you about before called S.H.I.E.L.D.). Once the monster was in the hands of several tall men in body armor, Spider-Man made his way over to you. 

“Are you okay? Let me see your arms. He didn’t hurt you too bad, did he? Maybe we should take you to a hospital—”

“Hyunjin?” You rasped out. A part of you hoped you were wrong. Spider-Man couldn’t be Hyunjin. Spider-Man wouldn’t lie to you like that. He wouldn’t pretend to be someone else while you ranted about him. He couldn’t be Hyunjin. 

Spider-Man let your arm drop, backing up one step. Two steps. He pulled the mask over his face, eyes wide and worried as he looked at you. Familiar brown eyes. The same beauty mark you’d been obsessed with for months. “I-I can explain—”

“How could you not tell me?” 

“I just—”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he reached out for you. You backed away, hurt making way for anger. “You just let me go on about you to your face! You lied to me. God, I’m so stupid. I knew your voice was familiar. I should have put two and two together sooner—”

“Yn, please, just let me explain.” 

“Explain what,” you seethed, glaring at him as tears continued to spill from your eyes. “How you’re just a lying asshole? I thought I could trust you. I told you everything. I talked about you so much and you never even stopped me. I hate you! I can’t believe I even considered starting over.” 

“That’s not fair,” his voice was quiet and his eyes were filled with hurt. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you could think about was your own anger.

“Oh, it’s not?” 

“You knew I couldn’t tell you. This is exactly why I couldn’t tell you. I messed up. I shouldn’t have gotten close to you as Spider-Man. I put you in danger and I take full responsibility for that. And I just… needed a friend. If I told you, you would have stopped letting me see you. I’m selfish, I know that. But I just… didn’t want to lose you. And I never meant for you to get hurt.” 

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep the tears that filled your eyes at bay. You were sick of crying in front of him. “Whatever. Leave me the fuck alone.” 

“Let me take you to the hospital first—”

“Leave me alone,” you hissed. “I don’t need your help.” 

Hyunjin wanted to protest more, wanted to make sure you were okay. But he also didn’t want to make you even angrier, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded before tugging his mask back over his head and turning to leave. You watched him go, wondering if he would look back at you. He didn’t. 

Once he was gone, your anger subsided, turning to sadness and it was then that you realized just how much your arms burned. You looked down, shocked to see how much they were bleeding, so you made your way to the side of the road, hoping maybe a taxi would come by so you could get to the hospital. Now that you weren’t as angry, you realized how cold you were too. You noticed then that you were still only wearing your underwear and Hyunjin’s t-shirt. You shivered, wrapping your bleeding arms around yourself and crying. 

“I came as fast as I could,” Yeji panted as she entered your room in the ER. She was still in her pajamas and her hair was thrown into a haphazard ponytail, eyes full of fear. “How are you? Are you in any pain? Do you need anything? Should I call for the nurse—”

“Yeji. I’m okay.” You smiled a little at her, trying to convince her that you didn’t need anything. 

She pulled the visitor chair closer to your bed and sat down beside you. “Well, just let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“Honestly,” you laughed bitterly, “my arms are in less pain than my heart is.” 

“Why, what happened?” 

“Hyunjin came over tonight.” Yeji’s eyes widened at your confession, but she didn’t say anything, so you continued. “I realized that I didn’t really hate him, so I invited him over to… talk. We had finally worked everything out when that monster broke into our apartment and took me. Most of it is a blur until afterwards when I was hiding in the alleyway. I realized that the voice was familiar and…”

You didn’t finish. You didn’t have to. You could tell by the way Yeji’s gaze hardened that she knew what you meant. “He lied to you all this time? I know I’m not supposed to know about your little friendship with Spider-Man, but I mean, you guys weren’t very sneaky. I knew he was coming over. That’s why I always left in the evenings. I never would have guessed that…” 

You shook your head, stopping her. As angry as you were at Hyunjin, you didn’t want his secret to get out. It would put him in danger as well as his family and friends. She understood, voice trailing off until she was silent again. 

“I kind of get it though,” she finally spoke again. “I don’t think I would have told you either, to be honest. Especially if we were rivals. Not only for your safety, but because… it would be nice to get to talk to you without worrying we would break into a fight. You and Hyunjin seem to get along really well when you’re not arguing about school and grades. I think the rivalry has been such a huge part of your relationship for so long that it’s hard to just forget that and move on. Which is why he probably enjoyed just spending time with you.” 

“He still lied to me,” you whispered.

“Yeah, he did. But what would the truth have cost you both?” 

You fell quiet after that, pondering her words, mulling them over in your mind as you sat beside her. You hated to admit that she was right. Mostly, you hated to admit that you were wrong. You didn’t want the part of you that missed Hyunjin to take over. You wanted to stay angry at him. 

But you just couldn’t. 

Not when the image of his pretty face was seared into your memory. Not when you could see his beautiful eyes when you closed your own. Not when you couldn’t stop thinking of what it was like to run your fingers through his hair and certainly not when you couldn’t stop remembering every conversation you’d had with him without even knowing who he was. 

You were stubborn though. Even though you weren’t angry anymore, you weren’t going to let him know that. You weren’t going to let Yeji know that either. So you just huffed and crossed your arms, wincing at the pain. How had you already forgotten you were in the hospital for an injury to your arms?

Yeji hummed thoughtfully and you looked over at her when she spoke up again. “Do you think insurance will cover the damages to the apartment? Wait, do you think we’ll still get our security deposit back?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. Of course Yeji was worried about the security deposit. As silly as it may seem, her questions comforted you. You didn’t know what would happen, didn’t know how you would pay for your apartment’s damages if you had to, but you did know that no matter what happened you’d have Yeji alongside you. That was the thought that comforted you. 

When you went back to class after a day of resting at the hospital, Hyunjin was sitting in his usual spot, but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t speak to you either. You couldn’t help but notice the deep purple bags under his eyes and the exhaustion that was written all over his face. Your heart squeezed uncomfortably in your chest when you saw the hint of a fading bruise peeking up from under the collar of his button-up shirt. You knew he had an advanced healing factor, but you also knew it wasn’t as fast as some. You wondered if the bruises still hurt.

You tried to focus on what your professor was saying at the front of the room, but your thoughts kept drifting to the man sitting in front of you and the way you’d left things only a couple nights before. You were surprised when a graded test was placed in front of you. You looked up to see the TA grinning down at you. “Nice job, yn.” 

You’d forgotten you’d even take a test the week before. Your thoughts had been consumed by Hyunjin then as well, just in a different way. You looked at the score. 100%. You were surprised. You couldn’t even remember studying for it. It was like you’d been on autopilot. You peered over Hyunjin’s shoulder like normal to see the score he’d gotten, but frowned when you noticed the red 62% at the top of his paper. It wasn’t like Hyunjin to do so poorly. 

You were about to say something to him when he stood up, gathering his things and walking out of the classroom, leaning in to whisper an excuse to your professor before he walked out the door. Your frown deepened and you looked back at the score on your paper. Your thoughts had been elsewhere and you’d passed, but his had been elsewhere and he failed. Had he done it on purpose? 

That couldn’t be it. Maybe you just didn’t know him as well as you’d thought you had. You sighed and tucked the test away in your bag, trying once more to focus on the lesson your professor was teaching. It was still no use. No matter how hard you tried, your thoughts drifted back to Hyunjin. Had you made a mistake?

That night, as you sat in your new apartment (your landlord had been gracious enough to let you and Yeji move into an empty apartment two floors above yours), you half expected Hyunjin to come tapping at your window like he usually did. You tried to ignore the disappointment that settled in your chest when he didn’t. 

Yeji knocked on your bedroom door before pushing it open and poking her head inside. “I made cookies. Do you want some?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you nodded absentmindedly, looking up at her when she entered your room fully with a plate of cookies and something to drink. She sat down beside you on the floor and watched as you did your homework, sharing the cookies in silence until you spoke again. “Hyunjin failed our latest physics test.” 

“Did he?” 

You hummed in acknowledgement before sighing and setting your pencil down. “It’s not like him. Something must have been wrong.” 

“Since when do you care?” 

The question shocked you, but you knew it was a valid concern. Up until now you’d never shown any sign that you cared about Hyunjin. In fact, you were always adamant about the fact that you hated him. You pouted and averted her gaze, mumbling a little as you spoke. “Since we had sex the second time.”

“Right.” Yeji made a noise and nodded at you. How could she have forgotten? “What are you going to do about it?” 

“Nothing,” you bit back, glaring in an attempt to cover your true feelings. 

“Nothing?” 

“He lied to me. He’s been an asshole for years. I’m not doing anything about this. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

“You’ve been mean right back,” Yeji pointed out, grabbing the empty plate and glasses and standing up. “You haven’t exactly been a saint to him. Sure he’s been a dick, but you’ve been mean too. Maybe it was in defense sometimes, but sometimes you were mean just to hurt him. You’re not blameless.” 

Yeji had a knack for telling you the truth even when you didn’t want to hear it. Somehow she never made you feel bad about it either. “Yeah. I was a bitch, wasn’t I?” 

“You were.” 

“Still…” You shook your head, determined not to talk to Hyunjin. At least, not yet. “I can’t. I won’t talk to him.”

Yeji shrugged, leaving your room with a quiet, “Suit yourself.” 

When Yeji was gone, you pushed your completed homework away and laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling. Was this a decision you would come to regret? Or were you doing what was best for yourself? You were still hurt over what Hyunjin had done, what he hadn’t told you, how he’d treated you since high school. But you also missed him. You missed him as Hyunjin, pleasing you and caring for you so tenderly. Most of all, you missed him as Spider-Man, sitting on your bedroom floor with you for hours, helping you with your homework and telling you awful jokes just to see you smile. 

In the distance, you heard a faint crashing sound, a roar, then silence. You wondered if it was Hyunjin. You wondered if he was okay. Was he hurt? Did he get the bad guy? Would he sleep at all tonight? You sat up and walked quietly toward the window, settling yourself on the small window seat while you looked outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of your red and blue hero. 

Hyunjin bit back a whimper as he shoved his window up and slipped inside his bedroom. He groaned as he collapsed onto the floor, clutching his side in pain. He tugged the mask from his face and looked down at the wound, finally pulling his hand away to inspect the damage. He’d have to repair the suit when he had some free time. He’d use the spare for now. 

His phone rang from his backpack and he sighed before digging it out and answering the call. “Hello?” 

“Hey, just saw your big fight. Need me to come over? I want to help you.” 

“Hey, Ji. I-I’m fine,” he winced as he pulled his suit off and stumbled into the bathroom to find his first aid kit. “I just need to rest.” 

He could imagine Jisung nodding along. “Right, right, well if you need anything—”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin groaned in frustration, slamming the bathroom cabinet shut and interrupting Jisung’s rambling train of thought. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“I need a new first aid kit. I forgot I needed a new one.” 

Hyunjin could hear shuffling in the background of the call and the jingling of keys. “I’ll pick one up and head over. You don’t need to be going out in your condition. I’ll be there in fifteen.” 

“Okay,” Hyunjin mumbled, hating the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his face, willing himself not to cry. “Make sure you find one that has hydrogen peroxide. And if it doesn’t, pick up a bottle. Maybe get an extra roll of gauze too.” 

“For sure. Guy in the chair to the rescue! I’ll be there soon.” Jisung hung up before Hyunjin could say anything else. 

He left his phone on the bathroom counter and slid down the wall, too tired and in pain to stand. He rested his head on his knees and in the privacy of his bathroom, in the dead of night, he allowed himself to cry. He sobbed into his knees, whimpering at the effort it took just to cry and wincing at the pain it put him in. But he couldn’t stop. 

That’s how Jisung found him. Crying on the floor of his bathroom, covered in his own blood. Jisung knelt beside him, opening the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and dousing a washcloth in the liquid. He helped Hyunjin lie down and warned him before pressing the soaked cloth into the wound. Hyunjin clenched his jaw, groaning at the sting as Jisung continued to dab at the wound, cleaning it the best he could. 

Hyunjin glanced down at the wound in his side, reassuring him through clenched teeth that it was clean enough and pushing his hands away. His breathing was shallow as Jisung wrapped the gauze around the wound with some help from Hyunjin. 

“Thank you,” Hyunjin said quietly, finally sitting up again, head leaned back against the bathroom wall and tears staining his cheeks. 

“Don’t mention it,” Jisung said back, his own voice quiet for once. He paused for a moment before continuing. “Are you just crying because of your physical pain, or are you crying because of yn?” 

Hyunjin closed his eyes, shaking his head a little. “I don’t know. Both, maybe.” 

Jisung nodded even though Hyunjin couldn’t see it. He sat there beside his best friend in silence, listening to Hyunjin’s ragged breathing and soft sniffles. He hated seeing him like this. He hated the pain that Hyunjin was in, both physically and emotionally. 

“You should try talking to her.” 

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed tighter as tears slipped from beneath the lids again. “I can’t. Not this time. She doesn’t want to fucking hear from me. Never again.” 

“Okay.” Jisung’s voice was still soft. He didn’t want to disturb Hyunjin. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“No.” 

“Okay.” 

After a few more quiet moments, Hyunjin sighed and forced himself to his feet, with help from Jisung. Jisung helped Hyunjin to his bedroom, watching carefully as Hyunjin pulled pajamas on and laid down in his bed. Then Jisung asked again, “Do you want me to leave?” 

Hyunjin still shook his head, “No. Stay.” 

Jisung searched Hyunjin’s closet and found a sleeping bag. He pulled an extra blanket out of the closet as well and took the extra pillow from Hyunjin’s bed, making a place for himself to sleep on the floor. Hyunjin closed his eyes, on the verge of sleep. 

“Thank you, Ji.” 

“I’ll always be here for you.”

Hyunjin mumbled sleepily as Jisung turned off the light. “I know.” 

When you walked into the classroom, the first thing you noticed was your professor standing beside where Hyunjin was seated, talking to him quietly. As you walked closer, you listened to their conversation. 

“... and I know I don’t usually do this, but seeing as it’s so unlike you and you’ve seemed very distracted lately, I’m giving you the opportunity to make up the test. If you decide you want to make it up, I’ll pair you with another student from the class to help you with the content to ensure you do better.” 

Hyunjin smiled at your professor but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I appreciate that. I would love to make up the test, seeing as you’re giving me the opportunity to.” 

“Great.” Your professor turned just as you were unpacking your bag, making eye contact with you. “Yn, would you mind helping Hyunjin study for his test retake this Friday? You got the best score in the class on this test, so I think you’d be the perfect person to help him out.” 

You blinked slowly, looking from your professor to Hyunjin and back again before stammering a quiet, “Uh, y-yeah, sure.” 

They smiled gently at you and patted Hyunjin on the shoulder before walking back to the front of the room. You looked at Hyunjin, but he wasn’t looking at you. He was already focused on looking forward toward the whiteboard, covered in equations. You sighed, a small frown forming on your lips as you focused on the board as well. 

When class ended, you moved a little slower, wondering if Hyunjin would say something to you first. He didn’t. He started to leave and you lunged forward, grabbing onto his arm. “Um, if you want, I can meet you at your apartment to help you study.” 

“It’s alright,” he gave you an expert fake smile and your heart fell. “You don’t have to help me. I know you’re busy.” 

He left before you could say anything else, Jisung giving you an apologetic look as he followed after him. You stood in the middle of the aisle between tables watching him leave, sadness filling you up and etching itself across your face. After a moment of staring at the empty doorway, you huffed and gathered your things, leaving the classroom, thoughts of Hyunjin filling your mind. 

The week passed by too slowly and too quickly all at the same time. On Friday, Hyunjin redid his test and the professor graded it before the class period ended. When they came to leave the new test on Hyunjin’s desk, they smiled at you, mouthing a ‘thank you’ as they explained the new score to Hyunjin. You didn’t have the heart to admit you hadn’t actually done anything to help him. 

The next week came and went quickly as well, your worry for Hyunjin growing with each day. He looked exhausted and almost ill. He needed a day off. He needed a break. But of course, you weren’t in any position to tell him any of that.

You met eyes with Jisung more than once throughout the week, sharing worried glances but never speaking a word. Jisung was clearly just as concerned about his friend’s physical health as you were, maybe even more so. It comforted you to know that Hyunjin had such a good friend to take care of him. You knew it was something you couldn’t do—not now. 

Jisung stopped you after class one day—Hyunjin hadn’t come to class and you were clearly worried about him. “Hyun’s just resting at home. He woke up with the stomach flu. I thought you’d like to know.” 

“Oh,” you tried to ignore the wave of relief that flooded over you. You were supposed to be angry at him. “Uh, thanks for letting me know, but I’m not—”

“You might be able to fool Hyunjin, but you can’t fool me. I see the way you look at him. As much as you claim you don’t, you do care. He won’t talk to you. He thinks you don’t want to hear from him. But he never said that I couldn’t talk to you.” Jisung’s voice was stern and his, usually kind, eyes were cold as he glowered at you. 

You shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “Wh-what is there to talk about?” 

“You need to talk to Hyunjin.” Jisung’s face softened a little when he noticed your discomfort. “He’s not doing well. He’s not as careful when he’s… well, you know. He hardly sleeps, he hardly eats, he just mopes around, studies, and patrols at night. It’s not healthy. I’m really worried about him. He may have been an asshole to you in the past but he started to really care about you. And I know you did too. So please talk to him. I can’t stand seeing him like this anymore.” 

You were quiet for a long moment as you thought about what Jisung had said. Hyunjin had hurt you, that was true, but you’d grown to care about him too and it was hard to just ignore those feelings you had developed. You sighed and nodded, moving your bag to your other shoulder and walking away from Jisung. 

“I’ll talk to him.” 

You’d made up your mind to visit Hyunjin’s apartment right after your last class of the day. Thankfully your classes ended early enough that you’d be able to walk to his apartment while it was still light outside. While you walked, you thought of what you would say to Hyunjin and you held a grocery bag full of medicine, soups, and drinks close to you. 

You were pulled from your thoughts when an old woman across the street dropped her own grocery bag and dozens of cans fell out all over the sidewalk, rolling in every direction. You looked both ways before hurrying across the street and crouching down to help her gather the cans she’d lost. She beamed at you gratefully, “Oh, thank you dear, you’re too kind. These old hands are no good anymore—it’s too hard to even carry a simple grocery bag.” 

“It’s no problem, really. Do you need any help getting back to where you live?” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, dear!” She looked surprised as she spoke, but the way her frail hands shook convinced you once and for all to help her. 

“Really, I don’t mind. Let me carry this for you.” 

“If you insist.” 

You didn’t notice the sinister look in her eyes or hear the drop in the tone of her voice. You didn’t see her back straighten out and her features morph into that of a man you’d never met. You didn’t see him pulling a soaked cloth out of his pocket and you didn’t have time to process what was happening before the cloth was pressed over your nose and mouth. The last thing you saw before you fell unconscious was the hazy sky above you and towering, grimy apartment buildings. 

When you came to, the first thing you noticed was the ache in your arms and legs. You looked down, blinking wearily and saw that you were tied to a chair. Panicked, your eyes widened and you looked around the room, searching for familiarity. But you didn’t recognize where you were at all. The room was large and circular, made of brick, and lit only by an old lamp against one of the far, curved walls. There were no windows; you couldn’t tell what time it was, didn’t know how long you’d been there. It was empty other than the chair you were bound to and the lamp against the wall. You turned your head as far as you could in both directions but couldn’t see a door anywhere. It must’ve been directly behind you. 

You wanted to scream for help, but your mouth and throat felt dry and your tongue felt swollen and heavy in your mouth. You took a deep breath, trying not to cry as you looked around you once more. Now was not the time to cry. You had to think. You had to find a way out. 

You heard the sound of a door unlocking and the loud scraping noise of it opening. You craned your neck to try and see who had entered the room, but they remained just out of view as they spoke. “You’re even more beautiful up close, my dear.” 

You bit back a surprised gasp at the cool hand that pushed your hair off your shoulder, exposing your neck. You remembered the old woman who had dropped her groceries, but the voice you were hearing now certainly didn’t belong to her. 

“It’s a shame we had to meet like this. Waiting for your hero to come and rescue you.” The man behind you chuckled darkly and you shivered. He walked slowly, heavy boots clunking against the floor as he came into view. His face was completely white and the lack of defining facial features made you squirm uncomfortably. His head was smooth and hairless, he had no nose, no lips. His mouth was just a line in his pale face and his eyes were sunken deep in his skull. 

“He will come,” you finally found your voice, glaring at him as you spoke, voice steadier than you would have thought it would be. “He always comes.” 

“Perhaps… I certainly hope he does. I want him to be here to see it when I kill you.” 

You felt dizzy. There was no way this man would ever let you live, whether Hyunjin showed up to save you or not. You had to think. Quickly.

“But first,” he spoke again after you didn’t answer, “let me introduce myself. I am Dmitri Smerdyakov. You may know me as Chameleon. Maybe you’ll recognize the name of my brother. Kraven the Hunter.”

You did recognize the name of Kraven the Hunter. He was a renowned villain, always coming back to try and kill Spider-Man. But he’d died recently. Chameleon could see the recognition on your face and he laughed darkly again.

“So you do know my brother.” 

“He’s dead,” you spat at him, glaring with as much ferocity as you could muster. 

Chameleon’s playful smirk fell and he took a step closer to you. “Precisely why you’re here. It’s Spider-Man’s fault my brother is dead. This is my revenge. An eye for an eye. Spider-Man deserves to suffer. What better way to make him suffer than to take the girl he loves.” 

“Well, you’re making a mistake then.” You sat up straighter, trying to look brave despite the fear that coursed through your veins. “Spider-Man doesn’t love me.” 

“No matter. You’re still someone close to him. Don’t think I haven’t watched him sneaking into your room at night. You may not see me but I… see… you.” Chameleon was so close now you could smell the stink of his breath. So close you had to lean back to see his face fully. 

You didn’t speak, clenching your jaw and keeping your head held high. It was a silent battle, who would look away first? You were determined not to look away, even if your body started to shake from the fear. And your determination paid off. You won. He scoffed, standing up fully and walking away. 

“For your sake, I hope your hero arrives quickly. Maybe I’ll show you mercy if he does.” 

When the heavy door slammed shut behind him, your body relaxed, sinking into the uncomfortable wooden chair. Only when you were sure he wasn’t coming back did you let yourself cry. What if Hyunjin didn’t come for you? How would he even know you were missing? 

You’d never felt so hopeless and lonely in your life. 

Hyunjin woke up in a cold sweat. Something felt wrong. Something wasn’t right. He grabbed his phone from his bedside table, opening up the news app to see if something was happening. His heart dropped into his stomach at the video clip he found linked to a news article titled Young Woman Kidnapped as Bait for Spider-Man. It was you. 

He sat up quickly, watching the video. He watched it once, then twice, then after he’d watched it five times all the way through he called Jisung. Jisung was more tech savvy than he was—maybe he’d be able to find out where the video was filmed. Despite it being the middle of the night, Jisung answered pretty quickly. 

“Jisung,” Hyunjin breathed, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. “You need to come over right now.” 

“What’s going on?” 

Hyunjin sighed, stumbling around his room and grabbing his suit, “I need my guy in the chair.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

Ironically, Jisung lived in an apartment building only one street over from Hyunjin’s, so it didn’t take him long to get to Hyunjin’s apartment. He was sitting at Hyunjin’s desk only seven minutes later, inspecting the video on his laptop (one that he’d fixed up himself to be more high-tech). He frowned, rubbing at his chin as he watched the video over and over again. 

“Well, the room has no windows, at least not any that are visible from this angle, so it’s almost impossible to determine where this is from anything we might see through those. But if we isolate the background noise,” Jisung’s voice trailed off as he typed away at his laptop, working to isolate the noise, “you can faintly hear what sounds like a party or a nightclub. The room looks circular, so we can narrow it down to buildings with a dome on top or that are more circular in overall shape. I can think of one nightclub off the top of my head that has a dome on top.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he looked at Jisung. He knew which club Jisung was referring to. “Venom?” 

“Yeah,” Jisung grinned. “Venom.” 

“I have to go—”

“Wait!” Jisung stood quickly, grabbing his backpack and digging through it. “I made these for us. Earpieces.” 

The earpieces were small. They almost looked like small hearing aids. They wouldn’t bulge or be uncomfortable under his mask. He took the earpieces from Jisung’s hand, offering him a grateful smile, “Thanks Ji.” 

“I’ll help direct you, find information on whoever this guy is, and whatever else you need from me. Stay in contact. If you need help, I’ll send someone.” 

Hyunjin nodded, “I’ll stay in touch. Thank you Jisung.” 

Jisung nodded in return and pushed Hyunjin toward his window. “Now go. You have to save yn.” 

Hyunjin was quick to leave then, his only thought being to save you. As he made his way towards the popular downtown nightclub, Venom, he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that he was making his way into a trap. He pushed that thought away. He’d seen you tied up, there was no way it could be a trap. He had to save you. 

Jisung’s voice pulled him from his spiraling thoughts, “There should be a trap door in the center of the dome, up at the top. You can get inside there.” 

Hyunjin didn’t answer as he landed on the top of the dome. Jisung was right about the trap door. He turned the wheel and hoisted the circular door up carefully, peering inside cautiously before dropping in. There you were. Tied to a chair in the center of the room, eyes closed but chest heaving. You were crying. 

He kept quiet, afraid that if he made too much noise the villain may return and hurt you. When he was right in front of you, you opened your eyes, looking at him shocked. You gasped, starting to speak, but he covered your mouth with a gloved hand, urging you to stay silent. You relaxed as he untied you and then watched as he stood back, giving you space to finally stand again. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” you whispered, throwing yourself on him in a tight hug. 

He breathed out in relief, grateful that you were okay, wrapping his arms around you in return. “I’ll always come for you.” 

“As I expected,” the voice that came from you wasn’t your own anymore and Hyunjin pushed you off in shock, his head ringing as every alarm bell went off. He watched in horror as you changed into someone else, someone he recognized. Chameleon. He should have known. 

Hyunjin’s whole body stiffened as he backed up, looking around the room for you, “Where is she?” 

“Hm,” Chameleon hummed thoughtfully before breaking out into a sinister laugh, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“If you hurt her—” 

“What? You’ll kill me too?” 

Hyunjin recoiled at the words, as if they physically hurt him. “I didn’t kill Kraven. You know I didn’t.” 

“But you didn’t stop it!” Chameleon’s featureless face somehow managed to look enraged and Hyunjin continued to watch cautiously as he started pacing. “You were there. You could have saved him. But you didn’t. Some hero you are!” 

Hyunjin didn’t respond, just watched warily, hoping that by letting him rant, he would divulge some information about where you actually were. But Chameleon only looked at him with crazed, infuriated eyes, daring him to answer. Hyunjin was never one to back down from a fight. He couldn’t be. Not when this was his job.

“There was nothing I could do. Now, tell me where she is!” 

Chameleon just shook his head, grinning eerily at Hyunjin. “You’ll never find her. I’ve taken her somewhere no one will ever find her.” 

You shivered as you looked around you. Chameleon had taken you somewhere different after sending the video of you to the press. It was cold and damp, dark save only for a faint, bluish light coming from one end of the tunnel. You felt nauseous and light-headed, a result of the horrible smell that rose all around you. You cringed as what you hoped was water dripped onto your skin from the curved ceiling. You were in the sewers. 

And Chameleon wasn’t there. 

How would Hyunjin ever find you now? You were still tied tightly to the chair you’d been in up in the windowless building. It felt like the more you wiggled to try and get free, the tighter the ropes wrapped around you, the more they dug into your skin. Your arms and legs ached from the odd angles they were bent at, your wrists and ankles burned from the ropes rubbing against your skin, your head was pounding from all the crying and lack of hydration. 

You looked around again, wondering if there was something around you that you could use to cut at the ropes. But there was nothing. You leaned your head back, squeezing your eyes shut and trying not to cry. You did the only thing you could think to do, though it was all in vain. “Help! Somebody help me!” 

Your voice echoed down the tunnels. Nobody answered you. You hung your head in defeat. You were going to starve to death down here if you didn’t die from the smell first. No one would ever find you here. Hyunjin would never find you. You sobbed silently for a moment, heaving as you tried to compose yourself again. 

A quiet squeaking noise pulled you out of your self-pity party. You looked down one end of the tunnel and saw nothing. You looked down the other end and saw nothing. But then you looked down at your feet and yelped. A rat. 

At first you shied away from the disease ridden creature, until a thought dawned on you. What if you could get the rat to chew at the ropes? How could you even do that? But you were determined. You had to get out. You had to try. 

You couldn’t give up. Not now. 

Hyunjin felt sick to his stomach. Where had Chameleon taken you? He had to think. He was running out of time. He had to focus. He couldn’t find you if he was dead. 

“Where is she?” Hyunjin asked again, teeth clenched as he stepped closer to the hideous man in front of him. 

Chameleon lunged then, hands outstretched as if to grab him, “I already told you! Somewhere you’ll never find her! Not until it’s too late!” 

Hyunjin ducked at the last second, sending Chameleon tripping over his own feet as he passed. He whipped around, angrier than before, and swung a fist at Hyunjin’s head. Hyunjin ducked again before delivering a swift kick to his side, sending him stumbling backward as he grabbed at his side, breath knocked out of him. 

“You’re going to wish you never did that!”

“Really?” Hyunjin quipped as he moved aside as Chameleon leapt towards him for another attack. “I don’t think I will!” 

The duo jumped and ducked and lunged around the room, swinging fists and kicking as they went. It was a rival’s tango—an enemy’s dance. Hyunjin groaned as Chameleon finally kicked him square in the stomach, but he recovered quickly, rolling out of the way again as Chameleon leaned in to punch him in the jaw. Chameleon roared in anger as he punched the ground instead. 

“Ready to give up yet?” Hyunjin asked, swinging down from the ceiling and kicking Chameleon in the chest with both feet. 

“I’ll never give up!” 

“Always so dramatic,” Hyunjin taunted, hanging from the ceiling and watching as Chameleon caught his breath. “You always have to have the last word, don’t you?” 

“I’ll be damned if I let you have the final word!” 

Hyunjin shook his head, hanging just out of Chameleon’s reach. “Let’s make a deal, then. I’ll let you have the last word if you tell me where she is.” 

“What do you take me for, a five year old?” Chameleon hissed angrily, glaring up at Hyunjin. “You’re just going to have to look for her.” 

“Thought you might say that,” Hyunjin sighed dramatically before shooting a web at Chameleon, catching him off guard since he’d been distracted. He struggled but before he could break free, he was hit with another web, and then another, and another and another until he was trapped to the wall behind him, Hyunjin only centimeters away from him. “Now tell me… where is she?” 

You were crying again, completely frustrated and worn out from screaming for help. Though you’d tried to coax the rat over to where you were bound, it was no use. You didn’t have anything it wanted so it scurried past almost as quickly as it had appeared. Now you were sitting, head hung low as you finally allowed your tears of frustration to fall. 

“Hyunjin, where are you?” You whispered into the damp air of the sewer, head still hung as you fell limp against your restraints. 

You weren’t sure how long you sat like that. Your head was pounding, you were shivering from the cold air blowing through the tunnels, and you felt more and more nauseous the longer you sat there in the stinking waters. You tried not to think about how you would die a slow death of starvation. It only made it harder to breathe. 

A sound, however, pulled you out of your misery. The faint scrape of a manhole cover being moved. A splash, a thwip, footsteps running. You sat up straighter, using the last of your strength to call out again, “Help me!” 

You fell quiet again, listening as the footsteps got closer. You could jump for joy if you weren’t tied to a rickety, wooden chair. Your eyes filled with relieved tears when a man, clad in red and blue, came running around the curve of the tunnel. But you hesitated. 

“Wait.” 

He stopped, tugging his mask off, “What is it?” 

“How do I know you’re really… you.” 

“God, yn,” he scoffed, smirking at you playfully. “I come to save your life and you want me to prove it’s me?”

You shrugged, “That guy could change bodies at will. How can I be sure you’re not him? Tell me something only you would know. Something he wouldn’t be able to look up about either of us online.” 

“You’re the only person who’s ever called me Hyunnie.” He took a step closer to you, then another. “I made you cry once because I started self-studying quantum physics. I got a 62% on our last exam before the professor let me retake it. I—”

“Okay, okay, come untie me now.” 

You looked away from him, tears finally falling over your cheeks once more. He was quick to crouch in front of you, untying your feet first and then moving behind you to get your hands. His voice was soft when he spoke to you, helping you out of the chair. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Yeah,” you punched him lightly in the shoulder, sniffling and clinging onto him, scared he would be gone if you let go. “What took you so long, asshole?” 

“Had to get the bad guy first. Didn’t want him to come after you again.” Hyunjin kissed the top of your head, wrapping his own arms around you. He felt like he could finally breathe again, knowing you were safe in his arms. 

“Hyunjin,” you murmured, not moving away from him, “I don’t want to go home tonight.” 

He snorted and looked down at you, “What, you want to stay the night here in the sewer?” 

“No,” you pouted up at him. 

“Then where do you want to go?” 

“With you.” 

He looked at you only a second longer before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. Your lips were salty from tears and a little chapped, but kissing you was just as wonderful as it had been every other time. He tasted a little bit like medicine and toothpaste, you noted, and though it wasn’t a great combination, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You didn’t really care about anything when Hyunjin was kissing you. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered when you pulled away. “For being so angry and unreasonable. I talked to Yeji about it and she… kind of knocked some sense into me. I understand why you didn’t tell me and honestly… I would’ve done the same thing if I was in your position.” 

“Hey, no,” he held your face in his hands, looking at you so tenderly. “I shouldn’t have kept it from you for so long. It’s hard to trust people when you’re doing work like this, but that’s not an excuse—”

“No, it’s totally valid, so I’m—”

“Stop talking,” he mumbled, kissing you again. 

You laughed when he pulled away. “We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, laughing as well. “Never would have thought I’d be kissing my rival in a sewer.” 

“Fuck, I kind of forgot where we were. Please get me out of here.” 

He nodded and held you close to him as he guided you to the manhole where he’d come in. He helped you up and then tugged his mask on and climbed up himself, taking a deep breath once he was out. The air wasn’t necessarily fresher, but it was less stagnant—it didn’t cling to you as much. And as polluted as it was, it certainly smelled better than the air in the sewer had. 

You turned around and hugged Hyunjin tightly once more as he used his webbing to swing the two of you back to his apartment. You felt exhausted, dehydrated, and emotional after everything that had happened, but still, you felt happy. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d really missed him until he was right in front of you, talking to you again. 

When Hyunjin set you down on the fire escape outside of his bedroom window, you felt another rush of relief surge through you. You were safe, really and truly safe. Hyunjin shoved the window up and climbed in, watching as you climbed in too. You looked over at his desk, noticing a bright yellow sticky note stuck to the middle of the wooden top. 

“It’s a note from Jisung,” Hyunjin muttered, picking it up and reading it, dragging his fingers through his hair. “He went back to his apartment so that we could talk. I’m going to change really quickly, but I’ll be right back.” 

You nodded, sitting down on his bed as he ran into his bathroom to change. You felt a shiver make its way down your spine as you remembered what had happened the last time you’d been in his bed. You didn’t have much time alone with your thoughts because Hyunjin, true to his word, changed quickly. He sat down on his bed beside you, not as close to you as you would have liked. He was still trying to give you space. It made your heart pound painfully in your chest. 

He was so good and you’d never even known it, too blinded by the stupid rivalry you’d struck up to give him a chance. If you’d tried being nice back, would things have been different? You liked to think that maybe they would have been. 

“I miss you,” you finally said, voice soft. 

You played absentmindedly with your fingers, not wanting to look at him in case he didn’t feel the same as you did. But he didn’t laugh at you or yell at you, he just scooted closer to you on the bed, wrapped his arms around you, and then pulled you down to lay beside him. “I miss you too.” 

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you the past few years.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he shook his head, “It was kind of fair considering I was a complete asshole.” 

“Would you maybe… want to go on a date with me?” You chewed on your bottom lip, heart beating out of your chest as you asked him. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. “I’d really really like that.” 

“For now, can you kiss me?” 

You rolled over so you were facing him and he let out a shuddering breath as you leaned closer to him. “Fuck, yeah.” 

He kissed you, holding you as close to him as was humanly possible. You hadn’t felt so happy, so right, since the last time you were together—the night you realized he was Spider-Man. 

If someone had told you back in high school that you would end up in Hwang Hyunjin’s bed, kissing him and asking him to go on a date with you, you would have laughed in their face. If someone had told you that Hyunjin was Spider-Man you would have laughed even harder. If someone had told you that Hyunjin was actually really sweet, thoughtful, funny, and kind you would have keeled over on the floor then and there. 

“Kind of crazy that we ended up together.” You mused out loud, pulling away from Hyunjin and opting instead to run your fingers through his hair and smile fondly at him. 

He shrugged, grinning at you as he traced a finger over your jaw. “I don’t know, I kind of always saw it coming.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I started the stupid rivalry thing because I had a major crush on you. I just wanted to impress you. But you could dish it right back, so over time, I sort of lost sight of the whole reason I initially started the rivalry. Then it turned into who could be more of a jerk and I never was one to give up so easily so… It was always me who was the bigger asshole. Somewhere in the back of my mind though, I always had a crush on you.” 

“Hwang Hyunjin,” you chastised playfully, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before laughing again, “you are the biggest idiot I have ever met.” 

“Yeah, but you like it,” he gave you a dopey smile, loving the sound of your laugh more than he ever had before. 

“Yeah,” you mumbled, snuggling into his chest and sighing happily, “I do.” 

Hyunjin held you for a moment longer before he sighed and pushed you away dramatically. “Okay, can you go shower now or something since we’ve made up? You still reek of sewer.” 

“Hyunnie,” you whined, “don’t wanna go.” 

“What if I shower with you?” 

Your eyes lit up at that and you sat up immediately. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go!”

He rolled his eyes. You were absolutely ridiculous. But he loved it. And you wouldn’t hear him say it for a while, but he also loved you.

TAGLIST 1 ⊂✦⊃ permanent taglist is OPEN !! pink = unable to tag !!

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© bbujiikseu 2023

Hwang Hyunjin Fic! Recommendations

(pt 1) my blogtw! — some chapters/oneshots may contain heavy smut,horror,angst read at your ownrisk. 🌌 — smut 🫐 — fluff 🌊 — angst

BEUTY IN DEATH - Chase Atlantic ▶• ||ıı|||ıı|||||ı|ıı|ı. 2:00

! Miniseries + synopsis

The Strange Man of Monterrey Manor by @/quokkacore

•🌊🌌 (complete)

– Willoughby, 1799 — Life as the heiress of a disgraced house has not been kind to you. You’re neglected, unwanted, and used as a bargaining chip for your father to weasel his way out of the debt he owes the moment you come of age. It takes a turn for the stranger when you’re chosen to wed the owner of the manor atop the mountain — a mysterious, eccentric, cruel lord no one has ever seen. Whisked away to the dark and cold house and wed to a stranger, your questions become more and more. Why is Hyunjin the way that he is? What are the strange noises that echo through the house late at night? And why does your heart begin to beat faster whenever he’s nearby?

Pluto by @/seospicybin

• 🌊🌌 (complete)

– Knowing that your life will end soon, you choose to have your desired death by making a pact with the devil with a red hair, Hyunjin

The taste of honey by @/straywrds

• 🌊🌌 (ongoing)

– You were promised to Hyunjin before you were even born. Every year, he writes you a letter for your birthday and you write him one in return. Twenty years after the first correspondence, it's time for you to move to the Hwang Estate and meet him for the first time.

four of wands by @/straywrds

• 🌊🌌 (ongoing)

– “I didn’t say the Four of Wands appeared to people who are in love. I said it appeared to people who were falling in love. It’s not the same thing.” Hyunjin shook his head, his red hair falling back in front of his face, partially covering his eyes, like a storm moving over a dusky sky. “And, I’m not a psychic. I’m a witch.”

INFERNO by @/cb97percent

•🌊🌌🫐 (ongoing)

– Hyunjin is supposed to get married to his childhood best friend a month after he turns eighteen. He's so clueless about what "manhood" entails that his mother consults to arranging a "makeshift wife" to train him for it.

Anti-Romantic by @/jisungsdaydreamer

• 🌊🌌🫐 (ongoing)

– After a lifetime of heartbreak, you try your chance at romance for one last time, meeting up with L.A.'s most beloved dating coach, Dr. Hwang Hyunjin. Lines are crossed and strange events ensue.

SUPER BOARD by @/straywrds

• 🌊🌌🫐(ongoing)

– He's the guy everybody has seen around but nobody actually knows anything about except that he's an art major and sells weed...

! ONESHOTS

need to know by @/hwajin

•🌌

surprises by @/writerracha

•🌌

magic and rune by @/mimziie

•🌌

taste by @/hwajin

•🌌

sweat by @/hwajin

•🌌

love untold by @/hwajin

• 🌌

insecure by @/hwajin

•🌊🫐

kitchen counter by @/hwajin

•🫐

touch me by @/slutforleeminho

•🌌

Always there: Hyunjin x Reader x Changbin

Your friend makes you feel bad after a night out at the club, but luckily, you’ve always had Hyunjin and Changbin to comfort you. Or maybe more than that, if that’s what you want. Is that what you want? Content: Smut, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Virgin reader, use of the word 'prude', reader is shamed for being a virgin (not by SKZ), kissing, fingering, oral f! receiving, p in v sex, no mention of using protection WC: 4800

Saturday mornings are great. After a long and tiring work week, you want nothing more than a day to sleep in and relax, finally letting the stress melt away from your body and mind. When you roll out of bed with a yawn you wobble into the kitchen, ready to make yourself a cup of coffee. 

Maybe you would read a book today? Or you could always catch up on that k-drama you’ve been wanting to watch–

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” 

Strange. That almost sounded like the voice of Hwang Hyunjin, which is impossible, seeing as you just woke up and you live alone. Right? 

Wrong. 

“Hyunjin, what the fuck are you doing in my house?” You groan as the coffee maker whirs to life, turning around to shoot your best friend a glare. He holds his hands up in mock defense, but your glare is no longer directed at him. It’s at the whistling coming from the bathroom, your bathroom, as Changbin strides out and dries his hands on his pants. 

“I’m seriously regretting giving you both a spare set of keys,” you mumble. Your whining goes unheard over Changbin’s shouting. 

“Ooh, coffee! Can I have some?” 

You have never known true peace. Not since Hyunjin and Changbin came into your life. Though as much as you fake groan and moan, you love them both deeply and unconditionally. Your friends don’t really have a concept of personal space, which is very obvious this morning in particular, but you all know that if you were truly bothered and wanted them to leave, they would. You don’t ask them to. You are slightly more aware of your unruly appearance, bedhead and long t-shirt that covers your legs and lack of pants, so you walk back into your room and throw on a pair of sweats.

Once your coffee is retrieved, you lay lazily on the couch and turn on the TV. Your legs are stretched out across Hyunjin and your back is leaning against Changbin. 

“You guys are so annoying,” you grumble. You sip idly out of your mug and let out a sigh, melting in between the two men. 

“You’re awfully snappy today,” Hyunjin says with a laugh. “Besides, you know you love us.” 

“I’m snappy because you buffoons decided to invade my home on my day off,” you say with petulance. You all know you don’t really mean your words though, so after a loud and dramatic sigh the topic is all but forgotten. 

Until your friend calls. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath. 

“Why is Cheryl calling you?” Hyunjin asks, leaning over to peak at your phone. 

“Ugh, we had plans tonight. I completely forgot,” you say, swiping to answer her call. 

“Hey girl! We still on for tonight? I really want to go to the club, and Brad said he was going to be there!” 

You stifle back a groan before replying: “I don’t know…” You were being honest. Partying has never really been your forte, as much as your friend has tried to push you outside of your comfort zone… it has been a long week and you wanted nothing more than to laze around with Hyunjin and Changbin. 

“C’mon! You never go out with me. This is why you still haven’t lost your virginity yet.” You stiffen at her words, letting out a soft chuckle and avoiding looking over at your friends, the ones that you know heard her judgmental words. 

“Um.. yeah, sure! I’ll be there,” you finally stammer. Fuck. You really didn’t want to go but you did want to end this phone call. So that’s what you did. Finally bringing yourself to look at your friends, you give them an awkward smile. 

“So… I’m going out with Cheryl tonight.” 

“We gathered,” Hyunjin laughs. This time you don’t suppress the groan that tumbles out of your mouth. 

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Changbin says. You shoot him a nasty glare that he definitely doesn’t deserve. 

“Well, Cheryl is kind of the worst,” Hyunjin agrees with you, though you’re not surprised. He’s never hidden his distaste for your other friend, and he has always been dramatic. 

Listening to Hyunjin and Changbin decide if you should go out tonight was much like listening to the angel and the devil on your shoulder… Hyunjin’s protests of how you should just stay in and forget that bitch, versus Changbin’s gentle persuasion of how it’s been a long time since you’ve let yourself let go. 

You take Changbin’s advice. And the boys don’t leave the house as you get ready, instead hooting and hollering when you walk out of your room in a little black dress, hair and makeup perfected. You smile sheepishly and try not to blush, but you’re used to their antics by now. When Cheryl comes to pick you up, Hyunjin stands behind you at your door, trying to comfort your nerves. 

“Have fun tonight,” he says, rubbing soothing circles into your back before bringing you into an embrace from behind. He rests his head on your shoulder. “Don’t let Cheryl convince you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, yeah?” It’s unspoken what he means, and you wonder if he’s referencing your conversation with Cheryl from earlier before you’re being pushed out the door. 

Smoothing your dress, you plaster a fake smile over your face before greeting your friend who is so excited about the evening. 

*** 

You should have listened to Hyunjin. 

That’s your first thought as Cheryl drags you into the club. It’s immediately apparent that she doesn’t really have interest in hanging out with you, and that she would much rather cling to her new situationship, Brad. Ugh. You needed a drink. 

You do just that, ordering yourself an alcoholic beverage of choice. As you are sitting at the bar, occasionally glancing over at Cheryl, you see some other guy walk up to her and start chatting idly. You have no particular investment in the conversation until you hear her say, “But my friend Y/N is single!” Oh no. No no no. 

She always did this. You’re not even sure why you agreed to hang out with her anymore. Maybe because you’re a pushover? You can’t help but wish that Hyunjin and Changbin were here to rescue you from this situation. The thought makes you laugh, knowing that Changbin would try to radiate an intimidating energy to get guys to back off and Hyunjin would cling to you dramatically. 

“Hey, pretty girl.” The man approaches and takes the seat on your other side. Taking a deep breath, you turn and give him an awkward smile, already thinking of ways you can turn him down gently. 

“Hi,” you respond, staring at your drink. The man immediately starts talking. His name is Drew, he’s like 10 years older than you, and he really likes golfing. You nod politely, but after 10 minutes you realize you haven’t even been able to get a single word in. This guy doesn’t really care about you, you realize, he just wants to hear himself talk. 

“Excuse me,” you say, standing up. Drew shoots you a nasty look but dismisses you nonetheless, finding someone else to talk to that hopefully cares more than you do. 

“Cheryl,” you say, trying to get your friend’s attention. She’s making out with Brad. Just great. “Cheryl!” You say it again, louder, touching her shoulder in the process. 

“What?” She snaps, shooting you a dirty look. 

“I want to leave.” 

She scoffs at you. “You always do this,” she says, rolling her eyes. 

“I don’t care, I’m sorry. I just really want to leave.”  “I tried hooking you up with someone! Can’t you just leave with whatever-his-name?” 

“I don’t want to leave with Drew,” you respond bluntly. 

“Ugh. Can you stop being such a prude? This is why you’re still a virgin.” She turns over to Brad and laughs with him. They’re laughing at you. For not going home and hooking up with a man 10 years older than you. You feel tears prickling in your eyes, being the target of a joke everyone seems to understand but you. Wordlessly, you shoot your friend the nastiest glare you can accomplish in the moment and leave. 

You start walking before you can really think. It’s dark outside and cold, and you don’t really know where you are. Cheryl drove, of course. You can’t help but think that the whole night has been one big mistake. Sighing, you take out your phone and text your group chat, knowing exactly who would come and help you in a time like this. 

Y/N Starting sharing their location

Y/N: Hey can someone come pick me up 

Binnie: 👍 Hyunjinnie: On my way! 

You slump against the cold concrete, letting yourself cry a little bit. Sure, you ruin your pretty makeup that you spent so long on, but who the fuck cares at this point? Wiping your eyes, you see a familiar black car pull up. Before you can stand, Changbin is already getting out of the car. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He pulls you to your feet, examining you for any signs of injury. You look at him, lip trembling, but when your eyes meet you can’t help the sobs that escape. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, pulling you into a big hug. He’s warm, and you can smell the musky scent of his cologne from here. You let it comfort you before pulling away. 

“Can we just go home?” You ask. 

“Of course,” he says, opening the car door for you to get in. Hyunjin shoots you a worried glance from the driver’s seat, and you give him a pathetic smile. 

You notice when Changbin starts playing your favorite songs in an attempt to cheer you up, and admittedly you already feel better, though you don’t speak a word for the rest of the drive. 

*** 

When you finally arrive in your apartment, you’re not surprised when Changbin and Hyunjin follow you in. You let out a loud sigh and face the two men looking at you expectantly. 

“It went just about as I expected,” you said with a dry laugh. When neither of your friends say anything, you start speaking. The words come out faster than you’d like and you know that you’re word vomiting, but it’s fine. They were used to it by now. “Cheryl was dismissive the whole night and tried to set me up with this guy she had just met, he was like, 10 years older than me and he kind of gave me the creeps… and when I told her I wanted to leave she told me to just go home with him.” You take a deep breath, gauging their reactions. “When I told her no, she called me a virgin prude and laughed at me, so I left.” 

The look of anger immediately spread on their faces and you found your own heating up from embarrassment. You looked down out at the ground, willing the tears that pricked at your lash line to go away. 

“Y/N…” Changbin’s gentle voice soothed you and you immediately fell into his embrace. You spare a glance at Hyunjin and know that he’s absolutely furious. You wince. 

“How dare she,” he starts. Changbin gives him a warning glare and tightens his grip on you. 

Pulling away, you tuck your hair behind your ears and look at them sheepishly. 

“Maybe she’s right,” you laugh. “Maybe I should’ve just gone home with some random guy. Maybe I should’ve just lost my virginity and gotten it over with.”

“Don’t say that.” It’s Changbin’s stern voice this time that pulls you out of your thoughts. 

“But–”

“No,” they say in unison. 

“It’s just… everybody else seems to be okay with going out, partying, loosening up, sleeping with people, and then there’s me.” 

“Y/N… there’s a reason why you haven’t… slept with anyone yet, right?” Changbin asks. Hyunjin looks at you expectantly. 

“I mean, of course. I was waiting for the right person.” 

“So you’ve suddenly changed your mind?” Changbin says softly. 

“No, but there’s no right person, Changbin. I don’t know what I’m waiting for anymore, because there’s never going to be that perfect person. I’m never going to be enough—“ 

“That’s not true,” Hyunjin says sternly. You give him an exasperated glare and turn around toward your room. 

“Is there something you’re seeing that I’m not? Because as far as I can tell, that’s the exact truth and you know it.” 

“You don’t have to sleep with anybody just because she’s pushing you to. She’s putting a lot of pressure on you and that makes her a bad friend,” Hyunjin says. “Virginity is a stupid, made up concept anyway. Don’t do it if you don’t want to.” 

“I do want to, though!” You say, exasperated. “I just want to see what everybody else sees. Maybe I don’t want to fuck around, but I want to have sex!”

Before you know it you’re pushed up against the wall by Hyunjin, his head buried in your neck and his breathing heavy as if he were trying to control himself. His actions make you dizzy and your breath hitches from his contact on your skin. 

“Hyune—“ 

“We could help.” 

“What?” Your stomach drops and your breathing increases at his implications. You’re sure you misheard him. 

“We could help you, if you want. You’re more than enough to us, and you should know that. Sleeping with us won’t change that, or make it any more true, but if you want to do it that badly, we’re right here.” 

You gulp. “You mean both of you…? At the same time?” You allow yourself to look at Changbin who is standing with his arms crossed and his eyes dark. 

“If you’re comfortable with that, yeah,” Changbin nods, meeting your eyes before looking away. 

“You should want to do it for the first time with someone who really cares for you,” Hyunjin explains. His hands take place on your hips and start to rub small circles and you find yourself arching into him, already seeking his touch. “Not some random guy at the bar whose name you don’t know and won’t even try to make you cum.” You gasp slightly and Hyunjin smirks, his breath hot against your neck. Changbin lessens the space between you and finds himself at your side, mindlessly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“And we really care for you,” Changbin adds. You nod at his words as Hyunjin starts to nip at your skin, letting his tongue trace circles until he finds the spots that make you breathless. 

“What… if I’m really bad?” You stutter. 

“You don’t have to worry about that. We’ll show you how to do everything… make you feel good. Plus, it’s just us…” Changbin leans in and makes contact with your lips. The kiss is chaste, testing the waters, though you let out a small moan against him. When he smiles against your kiss you smile as well. Alright. You can do this. It’s just Changbin and Hyunjin. You’ve known them forever and you do trust them more than anything, even if they do annoy you and break into your house on your day off.

“Okay,” you say with a shaky breath. 

“Yeah?” Hyunjin licks a thick stripe up your neck which makes you hiss, quickly swallowed up when Changbin leans in to kiss you again. 

“Yeah.” 

You walk to your bedroom and lead the way and even though they had been inside hundreds of times before, this felt different. The air was permeated with the thick scent of desire. You sit on your bed, looking at the floor. “Now what?” 

Changbin sits down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “Now you relax and let us make you feel good, okay? You can tell us what you like and what you don’t like, and anytime you want us to stop we will. Immediately. Does that sound good?” 

You nod your head, your skin becoming flushed. 

“Words, baby.” You don’t admit how those words make your heart jump right out of your chest. 

“Right. Yes. Okay.” 

Hyunjin sits on the bed next to you and you tilt your head to look at him. He starts by grabbing your hair and pulling you into him to meet his lips, and this time the kiss is hot and full of both desire and anticipation of what is to come. 

Meanwhile, Changbin’s hands have come up to touch your thighs. You’re still wearing your dress from your night out so you’re more exposed to him than you usually would be. His large hands touch the insides of your thighs and you don’t even realize that you’re squeezing them together until he is pulling them apart, gently but with intent. His thumbs draw circles on the insides, watching the way you react to each movement. 

You let out a breath into the kiss which Hyunjin takes as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, allowing himself the opportunity to swirl his tongue against yours. 

When Changbin’s fingers finally make their way to your clothed core you let out a moan. You can’t help it. His two fingers slide up and down the fabric that’s already wet, though he focuses on bringing attention right to your clit. You buck your hips up into his hand. 

“So needy,” Hyunjin laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Breathlessly you look at him in the eyes and turn away, embarrassed. 

His fingers make their way to your chin, turning your head to meet his gaze again. 

“It’s a good thing,” he says. “You don’t need to hide. Not from us.” With that, he pulls down the front of your dress, revealing your tits to him. He doesn’t break eye contact when his thumbs start to graze over your nipples in soft circles, teasing. 

“Baby, can I take these off?” Changbin asks, his thumbs in the waistband of your underwear. You nod your head vigorously, letting out a soft chuckle from both of the men at your eagerness. When you lift your hips Changbin slides the material off of your legs, now discarded somewhere across the room. 

The breath he lets out when he looks at your glistening core leaves you dizzy. “So pretty,” he all but whispers. “Just for us.” He wastes no time before touching you again with purpose. When one of his fingers teases your entrance you realize you’re already a writhing pathetic mess for them. He dips his finger into your entrance shallowly, collecting your wetness before taking it and circling it right back to your clit. Hyunjin continues his ministrations as well, thumbing your sensitive nipples while leaving wet kisses across your neck and face. 

“You’re doing so good for us,” he whispers against your ear. You whimper. Your eyes are screwed shut, focused on all of the sensations on your body so you don’t even realize it when Changbin’s tongue makes direct contact with your clit, warm and wet. You gasp and lurch forward at the contact. 

“What’re you doing?” you moan. “Oh my God, Changbin, what–?”

“It’s okay, I got you baby. I got you.” His tongue flicks up and down against you, and when he pushes his tongue flat against your clit and you feel his warm breath on your entrance, you finally hear the filthy sounds that are coming out of your own mouth. You try to muffle them with your arm but it’s quickly pulled away. 

“Don’t,” Hyunjin says. “Let us hear you. Let us hear how good we’re making you feel.” 

“It’s so good… Bin… Please don’t stop,” you plead, eyes meeting his from where he sits between your legs. 

His finger starts thrusting in and out of your core at the same time Hyunjin’s lips meet your nipple, tongue flicking across one bud while his hand comes to pinch the other. It feels like a well-orchestrated plan plotted against you, you think. You’re babbling now about how close you are and your hand intertwines in Changbin’s hair. You buck your hips up against his mouth, trying to ride out your release and he lets you use his face for your pleasure happily. When he curls his one finger inside you harshly you cum, pulsing tightly on his digit. 

You have half the mind to apologize for being so rough and caught up in the moment, but when you finally open your eyes you gasp. Changbin looks at you with all lust and desire and dark eyes, absolutely entranced by you and with your release completely covering his mouth. When Hyunjin comes off of you with a pop he looks quite similar, and it surprises all of you when you initiate the kiss this time, immediately open mouthed and trying to get as much of him as you can. 

“Slow down, slow down,” he says with a shallow breath, pushing you away. “Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes, please,” you whine. “I need someone inside of me. Please.” They both gulp, but Hyunjin quickly regains his composure. 

“You want just anybody inside you, hmm?” He teases. 

“Not just anyone… You, Hyune. Then Changbin. I can take it, please.” They both groan. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” Hyunjin laughs. He helps you out of your dress completely now and it drops to the floor. You now stare completely bare in front of your friends and you think about covering yourself up but it seems they know you better when a hand reaches for your wrist to stop the motion. The words remain unspoken this time, but you know, not in front of them do you need to hide yourself. 

Changbin pushes you down gently to lay down on the bed and he lays on his side next to you. The way he stares at you almost makes you queasy, because you know deep down it’s not just lust and desire, but something more… The need to be with you, to see you, for you to be his implicitly. You wonder if he knows that you already are. That you’ve already belonged to them for the longest time. You kiss him and he kisses you back. 

In front of you, Hyunjin pulls down his pants. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch and try not to let yourself become intimidated. He strokes himself a few times before he positions himself at your entrance. He looks at you, waiting for permission. 

“Go ahead, Hyunjin. Please.” Your words are soft but you know he’s heard you when his tip breaches your entrance. It’s already a bit of a stretch and you take a deep breath, tilting your head back. Changbin rubs circles into your arm to soothe you and you find that it works. Hyunjin shallowly thrusts out and then back in, allowing himself to get just a bit deeper. He slowly repeats the action until he’s flush against you, his hips meeting yours. The feeling is foreign but not painful, you decide. 

You watch Changbin lick his finger and then move it down to your clit, gently applying pressure. While Hyunjin hasn’t started moving yet, this allows you to relax a little bit more and your brain decides suddenly that it feels really good.  

“You’re doing so good for us,” Changbin says, repeating Hyunjin’s words from earlier. 

“S’good,” Hyunjin agrees. “Such a good pussy. You feel so good around me, love.” He starts to thrust now, though slow and gentle, and you start moaning. It feels different than anything you’d ever experienced before, though you know you really like it. 

“Faster,” you say. Hyunjin follows your directions instantly, watching and scrutinizing every reaction you make to ensure it’s completely pleasurable for you. Changbin’s hands are all over your body, grounding you; his hands rub up and down your arms and your tits, touching any area of skin accessible to him. 

Your hips start to buck up to meet Hyunjin’s. You’re getting close, you realize, though when Hyunjin picks up your legs and puts them over his shoulder, you gasp. He’s now reaching impossibly deeper inside you, and at this angle he’s able to completely control the pace. He hits that gummy spot deep inside you, one that you had never achieved reaching yourself before, and when he hits it your orgasm washes over you without warning. 

You cum with a cry, pulsing tightly around his cock. His moans are louder and you can tell he’s getting closer too but he fucks you through your orgasm. As your breathing steadies he pulls out of you and releases all over your stomach and you watch in awe. 

Taking two fingers, you scoop up his release and put it in your mouth, sucking it off your fingers. The two men groan at your actions which makes you smirk. 

“Changbin?” You ask, beckoning the man. 

“Are you sure, baby?” He asks, looking into your eyes for any signs of discomfort. 

“Want you too,” you say. It’s Hyunjin’s turn to slump next to you and he does so, wrapping his arms around you while Changbin takes his position. 

When Changbin pushes into you you let out an unabashed moan, pushing yourself into Hyunjin’s chest to ground yourself. He shushes you and combs his fingers through your hair. The stretch is different this time, as Changbin’s thicker but Hyunjin is longer. 

“Feels good, Binnie,” you say. 

“I know,” he responds. “I got you. Let me take over, okay?” And he does, at first cautious of his pace to not hurt you, but he soon follows up with a brutal pace that has your head spinning. He feels delicious inside of you just like Hyunjin did, and when you get close this time you don’t feel embarrassed by the loud sounds that come out of your body. You’re so close to your peak, almost there… when Changbin pulls out. You make a sound that comes out as a whine, but before you can complain further you’re flipped onto your hands and knees. 

Changbin teases his cock up and down your wet slit, sensitive and already so close to an orgasm, and the sound you make is downright pathetic. 

“You want it?” Changbin teases. 

“Oh my God, please… Changbin please, I was so close, don’t tease,” you beg. Hyunjin practically coos and his lips meet yours right as Changbin sinks back into you. You feel delirious from the pleasure and it doesn’t take long before you cum again. Hyunjin’s kisses drink up all of the moans and breaths that come from your body as Changbin pounds into you. 

Changbin and Hyunjin spit praise at you as you finish, and shortly after you feel Changbin’s release all over your ass. You slump onto the bed, tired, and welcome Hyunjin’s arms around your frame. You nuzzle deeper into his embrace, entirely content. You barely register when Changbin comes to clean you off and then lays next to you. You’re in between your two favorite people in the entire world, completely safe and content. You let out a happy sigh. 

“Did you have a good time?” Changbin questions. You almost laugh. 

“Of course I did. I couldn’t imagine a better first time. Thank you… Thank you both.” 

“Do you think you’ll regret it?” Hyunjin asks.

“No. Never.” You look at his worried gaze and press a firm kiss to his lips. You’re satisfied laying between the two men, relishing their soft touches and warm embraces when you have a thought that makes you laugh. 

“Cheryl is going to be thrilled,” you say with an eye roll. 

Hyunjin groans. “God. Don’t tell her. She doesn’t deserve to know. In fact, you should block her,” he reasons. 

“Yeah. She’s kind of a bitch,” Changbin agrees. You and Hyunjin look at him wide-eyed, not used to him talking about other people like that. Then all three of you laugh. You look at Changbin and can tell that there’s something else that he wants to say. 

“I don’t want you to do this with anybody else,” he says with a deep sigh. “I want it to be us. Just me and Hyunjin. I don’t want anybody else to see you this way.” His words carry a deeper meaning and you know it. You bury your head into his chest and Hyunjin’s arms wrap around your waist. 

“I love you both. Do you know that?” You say. You’ve told them a hundred times, but the words needed to be said again. Albeit they are now said in a much more intimate context, you will let them interpret it however they want. They both hum in agreement, repeating the words back to you. 

You’re not sure what this meant for your friendships or your relationships, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not now. The three of you fall asleep in your bed that night in an entanglement of arms and limbs, and you sleep peacefully knowing that no matter what, they would be there for you when you wake up. They have always been there, and they always will be.  *** A/N: I'm excited to announce that this is part 1/4 of a SKZ threesome series with various members ;) I have big things planned

Masterlist Recs

bad girl - h.hj

hello everyone!! this is my first skz fic on this acc so i hope u enjoy it!! please like, comment, reblog, or interact if you liked it!! photos are from pinterest and are not mine.

this is a strictly 18+ fic. minors do not interact.

wc: 1.8k

genre: pure smut, just a thousand words of filthy mouth hyunjinnie

warnings (if you are uncomfy with these topics please do not interact): afab!reader, fem!reader, offensive language (pussy, cunt, slut, fuckdoll, etc.), harddom!hyunjin, sub!reader, daddy kink, pet names (baby, baby girl), impact play using an object (spanking with ruler), fingering, piv, riding, unprotected sex (pls practice safe sex), cockwarming, mentions of other members, cream pie, mention of train being done to reader, mention of exhibitionism. if i am missing anything else please let me know!

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There were a plethora of things Hyunjin loved about you. He loved the way you eat snacks hunched over the trashcan with him at three in the morning, how you leave love notes around your shared apartment for when he wakes up and you’ve already left for work, how you’re okay with reading in silence beside him while he paints, how you swing both of your intertwined hands whenever you go on walks together, but there’s one thing Hyunjin loved about you that he wouldn’t dare gush about to anyone: he loves the way you submit to him in bed. 

That’s how you ended up here, face down on your bed, mini skirt flipped up exposing your bare ass to the only man that gets to see you like this. Hyunjin growled at the sight, smacking the already raw flesh before gripping you so tight you fear he’ll split you in half.

“Fuck my girl is so dirty,” Hyunjin groaned out, spreading your cheeks to admire your two tight holes. “All day today you’ve been wearing this pathetic excuse of a skirt that barely covers your ass with no panties underneath and for what? Did you want Jeongin to see your slutty pussy hm? Is that why you did it?”

When you only repled in whimpers, trying but failing to deny his accusation, Hyunjin brought his big muscly hand down on your ass once more. “When daddy asks you a question you answer it with words, baby girl.”

He continued his assault on your ass, not once stopping his pattern of spanking and groping, occasionally pulling your hips back so that you could feel his hard on through his grey briefs. The feeling of him against your sopping pussy made you sob into the pillow. You needed him to be inside you, to use you, but you knew you hadn’t deserved it yet, not for the stunt you pulled today. 

“No! N-no, I didn’t wa-want Innie to s-see! I wanted Daddy to see!” 

Your words caused your boyfriend to halt his movements. His silence was so loud you could hear your heart beating in your chest. Without a word, Hyunjin got up and walked over to his desk which was littered with tubes of paint and various other art supplies. The second you heard him rummaging in one of his drawers, you knew you had royally fucked up, but you couldn’t help but smirk silently at the outcome of your charade. 

You felt the bed dip behind you as Hyunjin tapped lightly on your calf. You were still in the same position as before, face burried in a pillow with your bright red ass stuck up high. 

“Come,” Hyunjin commanded when you turned your head to look at him. His expression was stone cold, none of the giggly, lovable man you usually saw before you. Hyunjin scoffed when he saw your face, blown-out pupils, and rosy cheeks despite the tears running down your face. His pathetic baby, he thought.

It was only when you crawled towards him, adjusting yourself over his knees did you see what he had retrieved at his desk. Looking so tiny in his hand was a wooden ruler, the same one that he uses every time you act up. 

“You know what’s gonna happen now right, slut?” Hyunjin questioned softly, running the thick wood up and down your raw flesh. 

“No more, please, you spanked me so much already,” you whimpered. “I’m s-so sorry, I di-didn’t mean to u-upset daddy.”

“Aww,” Hyunjin cooed, caressing the side of your face that wasn’t pressed against the mattress. “Daddy doesn’t care if you meant it or not, doll. You misbehaved and now you’re being punished, you know that’s how it works darling. Now, you know the word that’ll get daddy to stop right?”

When you grunted out your response, Hyunjin ran his unoccupied hand through your hair and placed a soft kiss on your temple. That was the last gentle touch he gave you before your punishment started. 

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

After ten spanks across your ass and thighs, Hyunjin held you with you straddled his lap, cooing praises at you while he rubbed your sensitive behind with aloe vera. 

“You took your punishment so well, baby girl,” he whispered, kissing all over your face and neck making you squirm. You giggled in his arms, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You were still dressed in your fitted crop top and mini skirt, fuzzy over the knee socks squeezing your thighs tight. “You look so sexy in this outfit.”

The statement made you pull away from him and raise an eyebrow in question. “Says the man that just spanked me with a ruler for wearing this outfit.”

Hyunjin chuckled, peppering kisses up your exposed neck. For the first time since stepping into the bedroom, Hyunjin locked his lips with yours. His lips were hungry and desperate, almost as if not being able to kiss you was his own punishment.

The feeling of his hot breath on your skin made you relax back into his touch while he reverted back to speaking in hushed, seductive tones. “I love it when you dress like a slut for me, baby, but not in front of my members. You’re just lucky none of them saw your pretty pussy. I swear if anyone even got a glimpse of this wet cunt I would’ve made them watch me fuck you.” 

You squealed at his words. You loved it when Hyunjin let filthy words fall out of his pretty lips. The change in tone made you squirm, grinding your pussy against his half-hard cock once again. Both you and Hyunjin felt your pussy gush on his clothed cock as he continued. 

“Does my little slut like that huh? You like the thought of my members watching me wreck this pussy?” Hyunjin’s hand found its way under you, your slick heat sucking his fingers in and out of your hole with little resistance. 

Your moans filled the room as you bounced on his fingers, the sound of wet skin slapping only making you want to go faster. 

“Just like that baby, mhmm, this pussy is so fucking tight I can feel you clenching around my fingers. God, you’re such a cock hungry slut, aren’t you? You’re such a whore, I bet the boys would love using you.” Hyunjin watched where your core met his fingers, your wetness creating a messy puddle on his briefs. His fingers were drenched with your juices, resting the pad of his thumb on your clit as you continued to ride his hand. “Too bad you’re all mine, hmm, isn’t that right, baby?” 

“All yours,” You mumbled against his neck. “Only yours, Jinnie. Can I have more please? Want daddy to fill me up please.” 

Hyunjin chucked softly before kissing your forehead. Taking his hands off of you for a painful second, Hyunjin pulled his underwear down and filled you in one swift motion. The moans you let out were equal parts relief and pleasure as you bounced slowly on his cock. 

“Feels so good,” you slurred, slumping further down around Hyunjin, unable to hold yourself up any longer. “Help please, Jinnie. Need more.” 

“I got you, baby, just relax,” Hyunjin cooed, putting his hands under your behind to slowly move you up and down his length. 

After several heartbeats, Hyunjin couldn’t contain himself any longer, gradually picking up the pace in which he was bouncing you. 

“Harder,” you whined, clinging to your boyfriend for dear life. “I want you so deep inside me, baby. I need you to fill me full with your cum please daddy! Daddy, I need you please!” 

Hyunjin groaned at your request, unable to hold himself off any longer. “God you’re such a good little fuckdoll for me, you’ve been so good. I’m gonna fill this pussy to the brim, make sure you’re stuffed well with cum, how does that sound princess?” 

With a grunt, Hyunjin flipped you both so that you were under him, his large hands pushing your knees up to your chest allowing your pussy to be fully exposed to him. His gaze roamed your body slowly, teasing you with his eyes alone. His eyes clung to the swell of your breasts, trapped in the confines of your t-shirt, the peaks of your nipples taunting him.

“Please,” you whimpered. In a swift motion, Hyunjin took one hand off your leg to pull your skin-tight t-shirt up, letting your gorgeous tits fall out. With a groan, Hyunjin dove in, sucking at each nipple ferociously, making you gasp at the sudden action.

With your hands gripping his hair, Hyunjin plunged his cock into you, stretching you out deliciously. You gasped at the sudden stretch.

"This cunt is so fucking perfect," Hyunjin breathed, face still buried in your tits. "Don't know how long I'll last, baby,"

Hyunjin continued to hold your legs down against your chest, his deep strokes not breaking his original pace for a second. With one of your hands bunched in his hair and the other rubbing circles around your clit, you felt your climax build up quickly. After a particularly deep stroke, you let go of Hyunjin's hair and gripped his shoulders quickly, your orgasm washing over you as you chanted his name like a prayer. “I’m cumming, Daddy!” 

Hyunjin didn't halt his movements. If anything, he sped up his pace.

“Mhmm, that’s my good girl. Just a little longer okay? You’ve been so good. Daddy just needs a little bit more.” With a final thrust, you felt Hyunjin’s seed spread inside you, satisfying you completely. His moans and grunts were godlike, almost encouraging you to bring your pelvis forward to grind on his cock again, but you resisted the temptation. 

Remaining inside you, Hyunjin moved you so that you were facing each other on your sides, disregarding the fluids dripping onto the sheets. He held you as you played with the small hairs on the back of his neck, your heavy pants evening out together. You felt the pads of your boyfriend's fingers tracing shapes on your back, smiling silently to yourself when you felt the familiar pattern of his fingers drawing hearts and writing "I love you" both in English and Hangul amidst the random swirls.

Hyunjin felt good like this, and so did you, your bodies so intertwined that none of you could tell where your body stopped and his body started. That’s another thing Hyunjin loves about you, he supposes, that despite being your own entities separately, you also have your ways of making him feel as if you’re a part of him. Your soft chuckle pulled Hyunjin out of his thoughts. 

“You know now that I think about it,” You start. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use a ruler for anything other than to spank me.” 

“Wrong,” Hyunjin replies with a smirk. “I just don’t use that ruler.” 

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thank you for reading!! my asks are open for requests, hard thoughts, or jus to chat!! ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚