Untitled

it’s saturday night, and the house is dead quiet.

your parents left earlier for some family dinner party—you had no interest in small talk with distant cousins or watching your dad argue about politics over cheap wine. your brother, predictably, is out with his girlfriend, probably halfway into some movie or already making out in his car. either way, he’s not coming home anytime soon.

you’ve got the whole house to yourself. all night.

at first, it felt nice—freedom. silence. you curled up on the couch, made popcorn, browsed netflix like it was an olympic sport. but after an hour of half-watching three different movies, nothing could hold your attention. not even the romcoms with shirtless leads.

you switched to tiktok. scrolled. scrolled more. a couple thirst traps. a couple puppies. nothing hit.

you huffed and opened your laptop, fingers drifting without purpose. maybe a gameplay stream would help pass time. something soft. chill. maybe even fall asleep to it.

you searched “streamers live now” and clicked a random site link that looked slightly sketchy.

only—it wasn’t for gaming.

the homepage was dark. black background, bright red accents. pulsing icons and neon outlines. bold letters reading “18+ only. enter responsibly.”

you blinked. hesitated. your heart kicked once in your chest.

then curiosity won.

you clicked.

the page opened with a grid of livestream thumbnails. too many skin tones. too many soft moans bleeding through overlapping audio. most thumbnails showed women—arched backs, lace underwear, fingers between thighs. the kind of content you’d only ever dared to peek at by accident.

you licked your bottom lip without realizing. eyes glued to the screen.

and then you saw him.

a stream titled “just chillin’”. the thumbnail was cropped just below the neck, showing a toned chest in a tight black tank top, arms flexed casually as he leaned back in a gamer chair. loose, light-wash jeans slung low on narrow hips, exposing a hint of red boxers.

his username: yawnzzn.

something about it made your fingers freeze.

there weren’t too many viewers inside. only a few hundred, way less than the others. maybe that was better. maybe you wouldn’t get noticed.

you clicked the stream.

your screen went black for a moment—then it loaded.

he was talking already, laughing softly, the kind of voice that scraped low and slow against your ears. the room was mostly dark, lit only by the glow of his monitor and faint neon strips behind his desk. it cast shadows across his collarbones, the slope of his shoulders.

you quickly plugged in your headphones, pulse jumping.

he leaned forward, adjusting something on the desk, and that’s when the camera caught his chin. his mouth.

his lips were plush, pink, and curved into a lazy smirk.

your whole body froze when you heard it:

“huh,” he chuckled. “who’s ‘babygrl87’?”

your username.

your dumb, randomly chosen username.

you nearly slammed your laptop shut, face burning, heart jackhammering inside your chest.

“didn’t think we had new viewers tonight.” his voice dipped lower, teasing. “you shy, babygrl?”

you didn’t answer.

his chat was wild. emojis, donations, constant messages.

“take the tank top off!” “the new girl better tip if she’s gonna stare.” “yo, yawnzzn, we want the show.”

he ignored most of them. or teased them back.

“which one should go first?” he mused aloud. “shirt or pants?”

your thighs pressed together. he wasn’t even doing anything yet, and your body was already betraying you.

then—slowly—he stood up.

his tank top hugged his body in all the right places. tight against his chest, his waist slim. he stretched, letting his arms lift overhead, showing a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans. the v-line below his abs? obscene.

you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath.

then he reached down, thumbs hooking into his belt loops.

“you wanna see more?” he asked, looking directly into the camera. it felt like he was looking straight at you.

“say please.”

his viewers spammed please, but you stayed quiet.

and yet—you couldn’t look away.

he unbuttoned his jeans. dragged the zipper down slow. the denim slid off his hips, falling to his ankles with a dull thud.

your breath hitched.

tight red boxers. snug. low. the bulge underneath them? impossible to ignore. thick, heavy-looking. twitching slightly under the fabric.

you pressed your thighs tighter.

he sat back down, shifting slightly, letting one leg rest wide open on either side of the chair. spread just enough to show off the outline pressing against the boxers.

“you guys are fucking filthy,” he muttered with a smirk. “but lucky for you... so am i.”

his hand dipped under the waistband.

not all the way—just enough to tease.

his fingers brushed over himself, then pulled out, gripping through the fabric, pressing against the hardness. you watched the muscles in his arm tense.

he exhaled softly. deep. like he really needed to touch himself.

you couldn’t stop staring.

his palm moved slow at first, just rubbing the base, then stroking up and down along the outside. the fabric grew darker at the tip. he was leaking already.

you bit your lip hard, your own thighs twitching.

he kept going. breathing heavier. head tilted back, exposing his throat.

“fuck, babygrl,” he groaned suddenly. your eyes widened.

did he just—

“you’re still watching, right?” he said between shallow breaths. “don’t look away. i’m doing this for you.”

he reached into his boxers, finally pulling himself out.

thick. veiny. flushed red at the tip.

he spat into his hand. started stroking—slow at first, then faster.

the slick sound of skin on skin filled your ears through the headphones.

you were hypnotized.

his moans were low and filthy, hips shifting as he fucked into his hand. his tank top bunched up higher on his chest, exposing his abs, the muscles in his thighs tensing as he got closer.

his eyes were heavy-lidded now, lips parted.

“wish i had you here,” he muttered. “wish i could see you... touching yourself too.”

you were. not even sure when your hand slipped under your shorts. but it was there now. fingers rubbing, too fast, too needy.

he got louder.

he leaned forward, panting, fisting himself hard.

“you want it?” he growled. “want me to come for you?”

you gasped. the tension snapped.

you came first.

trembling, breath caught, hand soaked.

he moaned—loud, raw—and came a second after. cum spilling over his knuckles, streaking his abs. he didn’t stop stroking until every last drop was out, breathing like he’d run a mile.

for a second, it was quiet.

only his ragged breath. and yours.

then he talked to the camera again.

“thanks for watching, babygrl.”

you slammed your laptop shut.

you never meant to stay.

at first, it was just curiosity—an accident on a saturday night, when the house was too empty and the silence wrapped too tightly around your neck. you stumbled into his stream, yawnzzn, because it was late, and you were bored, and the thumbnail showed more skin than anything you were brave enough to click before.

you should’ve closed the window. you should’ve gotten up, made tea, gone to bed.

but you didn’t.

you stayed. wide-eyed and still, staring at the boy who leaned back lazily in his gamer chair, the room bathed in the low glow of his monitor, his body relaxed, his fingers moving with casual, devastating confidence over himself.

you didn’t even know his name.

all you had was a username. a voice. a body that looked carved by hands more careful than god’s. long fingers. full pink lips. shoulders wide enough to carry the whole damn world.

you never commented. not once.

you just watched.

he noticed, somehow.

your username would blink into the list of viewers and he’d smile, low and wicked.

“looks like babygrl87’s here,” he’d tease once in a while.

the chat would explode with laughter.

"silent watcher’s back." "she's loyal but shy." "say something, girl!"

but you never did.

you stayed hidden, frozen, cheeks burning, fingers trembling at the sight of him.

and he kept performing for you anyway.

stroking himself slow in the shadows, spreading his legs wide so you could see everything, moaning under his breath, letting his pleasure spill into the microphone until it felt like he was touching you through the screen.

sometimes he'd say things like—

"bet she's watching real close..." "wish she'd tell me what she likes..." "i'll just have to guess, baby."

every time he said "baby," something deep inside you twisted.

you touched yourself to him more times than you could count. memorized every shift of his hips, every flex of his thighs, every low curse that spilled from his throat. his face stayed mostly hidden—just his mouth, his jaw, the curve of his nose—but it didn’t matter.

he had you wrapped around his finger without ever seeing his whole face.

until tonight.

the notification buzzed on your phone and you didn’t hesitate. you flung your laptop open and clicked into his stream before your fingers could even register it.

live now: yawnzzn — "friday chill."

it was late. almost midnight. but it was friday, and you could stay up all you wanted.

the stream loaded—and immediately your breath caught.

yeonjun was different tonight.

he wore a black hoodie, the hood pulled up to shadow most of his face. only the sharp line of his jaw, the tempting curve of his lips, and the glint of an earring peeked out.

his posture was lazier than usual, sprawled low in his chair, legs spread wide.

and—

only two viewers.

just you. and someone who quickly left.

you were alone with him.

your heart pounded so loud you barely heard him speak at first.

“well, look who it is.” he smiled, a little softer this time. “thought you’d come."

you swallowed hard.

he leaned closer to the camera, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“guess it’s just you and me tonight, babygrl.”

your hands shook.

for the first time, you typed something.

hi.

the word looked tiny in the chatbox. pitiful. but yeonjun froze when he saw it.

his mouth parted.

then—

he laughed.

god, the sound was warm. real. his whole body tilted a little, like he couldn’t believe it.

“no way,” he said, eyes shining. “you’re real. you actually talk.”

you bit your lip so hard it hurt.

he grinned wider, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a second. he looked—happy. excited. like you just made his whole night.

"fuck, i should do something special for you," he mused. "loyal watcher deserves a reward."

you hesitated. then, shaky fingers flying across the keys, you typed:

can i see your face?

for a second, the world stopped.

he leaned back, tapping his chin, pretending to think. then he smirked, eyes glinting under the hood.

"only because it’s you," he said, voice low. "only because you’ve been good."

he reached up, gripping the hood—and slowly pushed it back.

you forgot how to breathe.

he was beautiful.

no. beyond beautiful.

his face was unfair.

sharp, slanted cat-like eyes, framed by thick lashes, glinting dark and dangerous under the soft light. a high nose bridge, cheekbones cut clean enough to bleed on. his mouth, god, that sinful mouth—full and pink, curled into a smirk that promised ruin.

he was the kind of beautiful that wasn’t supposed to be real.

the kind that hurt to look at.

your stomach flipped violently. your whole body flushed hot.

he tilted his head, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, and smiled.

"what do you think, baby?" he teased. "worth the wait?"

you couldn’t even type.

he chuckled, low and raspy.

“i’ll take that silence as a yes.”

he leaned in closer, so close the camera almost fogged.

"don’t disappear on me now," he whispered. "you’re mine tonight."

and you knew—deep in your bones—you’d never escape him.

not now.

not ever.

you should’ve closed the laptop.

you should’ve logged off the moment he smiled at you like that—dangerous and sweet, like he already knew what you tasted like.

but you stayed. frozen in your seat, trembling, helpless.

yeonjun leaned back, dragging his palm down his chest, over his stomach, slow enough to make you whimper.

"you know," he said, voice dropping, "i've been saving something… just for you."

he reached under the desk and pulled out something unexpected—not just a toy, but a miniature torso made of soft, rosy pink silicone, barely the size of his hands.

it was shaped like a woman’s lower half, smooth thighs tapering into the curve of hips, and right between them, the detailed, glistening folds of a pussy. obscene. delicate.

lewd in a way that made your stomach twist. the soft rubber glinted under the light as he turned it in his hand, spreading lube over it like he was preparing you instead.

a thick stream of it spilled out—over his hand, over the soft pink opening of the toy, dripping lewdly.

your breath caught.

he grinned lazily at your silence, clearly enjoying the way you were glued to the screen.

"thought about using it a couple times," he murmured. "but it didn’t feel right without you here."

your thighs pressed together, trying uselessly to ease the heavy, aching heat between them.

your mouth went dry.

he groaned under his breath, squeezing some over his own cock. it was already hard, thick and flushed red at the tip, veiny and heavy between his thighs.

your whole body clenched at the sight of it.

yeonjun caught the way you froze.

he chuckled, low and warm.

"you like watching, don’t you?" he teased, voice velvet-soft. "such a dirty little thing, just sitting there all quiet for me."

you couldn’t even type back. your hands were gripping the edge of the desk, knuckles white.

he slicked himself up slowly, deliberately, hissing as his fingers wrapped around the base.

then he grabbed the toy.

"gonna pretend it’s you," he said, smiling in that way that made your head spin. "gonna fuck you so good, baby."

he eased the tip of his cock into the toy, slow, teasing.

the lube made everything shine under the dim light, making it look so wet, so messy.

a broken moan left his mouth as he pushed deeper.

"fuck..." he whispered, hips twitching. "you'd feel so fucking good around me."

he started moving, thrusting lazily into the toy, one hand gripping it tight, the other braced against his thigh. his head dropped back, lashes fluttering, mouth parting on soft, desperate sounds.

your name fell from his lips like a prayer.

"babygrl," he moaned, hips stuttering. "wish you were here... wish you’d let me hear you."

you pressed your thighs together harder, trembling, burning with need.

he moved faster now, fucking the toy like it was real—like it was you.

the wet sounds were filthy. obscene. echoing through your headphones like he was right there in the room with you.

"bet you’d be so tight," he panted, thrusting harder. "all hot and wet for me… fuck, i’d ruin you."

he gripped the toy tighter, biting down on a groan.

you watched every second—hypnotized, devastated.

watched his hips buck, watched the muscles in his arms flex, watched the way his stomach tensed up when he got close.

he didn’t look away from the camera once.

he fucked that toy like he was making love to you.

slow, deep, passionate.

like you were the only thing he ever wanted.

your chest heaved with every breath, nipples aching, panties soaked beyond salvation.

and when he finally shuddered, spilling hot and thick into the toy, moaning your username again in that wrecked, desperate voice—

you knew you were already ruined.

he slumped back in his chair, panting, hair a mess, lips swollen and wet from how hard he’d been biting them.

and then—

he smiled at you. soft. sweet. devastating.

"thanks for staying with me, baby," he whispered.

the screen went dark a few seconds later, leaving you staring at your own reflection, wrecked and trembling.

alone.

but never lonely again.

you hadn’t gone back.

not because you didn’t want to.

god—you did. more than anything.

but it was too much now.

something had shifted in you after that night. after watching him fuck that toy like it was yours—moaning your username like it was sacred, like he needed you to breathe.

you couldn't stop thinking about it.

the way his hand moved. the way his voice cracked when he came. the way he smiled right before the screen went black.

he ruined you, and he didn’t even know it.

you tried to forget him. muted the notifications. ignored the replays. avoided even opening the app, like a coward. like a girl who couldn’t trust herself not to break down and need again.

because now when you thought about him, it wasn’t just lust—it was hunger.

two weeks passed.

you didn’t watch a single live.

but you did think about him. in the shower. in your bed. in the quiet moments when no one was around. and every time, you pressed your thighs together and tried to chase the ghost of his voice in your head.

you thought you were safe. that this distance would protect you.

until the dm.

at first, you didn’t believe it. you were half-asleep, phone in hand, thumb swiping lazily through random memes—until the little red dot appeared in your inbox.

no one ever messaged you. even though you were kind of known in his chat, everyone respected the line. no dms. no creepiness. everything stayed inside the stream.

but this—this was different.

you opened it slowly, heart thudding.

yawnzzn [11:32 PM]: been kinda sad u haven’t joined the lives lately :( miss seeing ur name pop up every night.

your heart stopped.

it was him.

he messaged you first.

and now everything inside you was heat and panic and that same damn ache he always left behind.

you stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, your whole body on fire from just one line.

he missed you.

he noticed you.

and worst of all—he cared.

you stared at the screen for what felt like an hour.

your thumb hovered over the keyboard, mind racing, heart hammering. he’d messaged you. yeonjun—yawnzzn. the boy you’d been secretly watching for months, who moaned your username like a lover, who made you cum more times than you could admit.

and now he was in your inbox. waiting.

you breathed in, deep and shaky. then finally, you typed. slowly. carefully.

you [11:46 PM]: i’m sorry i disappeared… i’ve just been feeling a little overwhelmed lately.

your chest felt tight when you hit send.

you almost didn’t expect him to answer right away—but less than a minute later, the typing bubble popped up.

yawnzzn [11:47 PM]: overwhelmed? like… because of me?

your face burned.

fuck.

you should’ve lied.

but maybe it was the way he asked it—gentle, teasing, soft.

you hesitated for a second, then typed again. a little braver.

you [11:49 PM]: yeah. i think watching you became… a little too much for me.

you hit send before you could regret it.

then added one more line.

you [11:49 PM]: you make me feel things i don’t know how to deal with.

there was a long pause.

long enough to make your stomach twist. long enough for you to want to unsend everything and run.

but then:

yawnzzn [11:53 PM]: …fuck. that’s probably the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

your breath hitched.

yawnzzn [11:54 PM]: i thought maybe i was imagining it. the way you looked at me. how you never talked but always stayed until the end. i always felt like… you were watching differently.

you swallowed hard, heart in your throat.

yawnzzn [11:54 PM]: can i ask what it is exactly i make you feel?

his words lingered on your screen, sweet and dangerous.

you could lie.

or you could tell the truth, even if it made your skin burn and your thighs clench and your whole body betray you.

you told him.

typed it all out, trembling fingers and flushed skin—how much he turned you on. how just watching him made you ache. how you’d touched yourself to the sound of his voice so many times it scared you.

he didn’t tease you.

he just replied:

yawnzzn [12:02 AM]: you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that from you.

the next night, he asked if he could call you. just for a second. just to hear your voice.

you hesitated. but then said yes.

the screen lit up with his face—hoodie on, smile soft, and it was dark in his room.

you couldn’t show your face right away.

your camera stayed off while you whispered hello.

you expected him to sound different. more confident. more teasing.

but he didn’t.

he sounded gentle. nervous. warm.

“can i see you?” he asked softly. “just a glimpse?”

your heart pounded as you turned your camera on. you were in a hoodie. no makeup. hair a mess. you hated the way your stomach twisted.

but he smiled.

really smiled.

“wow,” he whispered. “you’re… so much prettier than anything i ever imagined.”

you only lasted five minutes before you panicked and hung up, stammering out an apology.

he didn’t push you.

he just texted:

yawnzzn [12:28 AM]: you looked beautiful. thank you for letting me see you.

the days after that were soft. messy. hot.

late-night texting turned into slow, sticky sexting.

he’d ask if you were touching yourself. you’d ask what he was wearing. sometimes, he’d send you voice notes, low and breathy, moaning your username until you were whimpering into your pillow.

eventually, he asked to see you again. in person this time.

you said yes.

but something about it scared you—the way your heart twisted at the idea of being real to him. what if you weren’t enough?

and then, the idea.

he texted you in the middle of the night:

yawnzzn [1:03 AM]: what if we did a stream together? i could blur your face. or you could wear a mask. sunglasses. anything. i just want them to see that i’m finally fucking the one person i actually wanted.

your heart stopped.

you said no, at first. embarrassed. shy. it felt too raw, too exposing.

but that night, in the dark, with your hand between your thighs and his voice playing in your head, you imagined it.

imagined being on his lap. riding him in front of the same camera that once made you weak. imagined hearing him moan your name into your neck while the whole world watched.

you texted him at 2:11 AM.

you [2:11 AM]: i’ll do it. but only if i wear a mask.

his room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his monitor and a red led strip that cast everything in that deep, sinful color. your silhouette, perched on your knees between his thighs, looked unreal—masked, trembling, mouth parted in anticipation. he was already hard, the thick outline of his cock pressing against his grey sweats, and the stream had barely started.

yeonjun leaned back in his chair, lazy smirk on his lips as he brushed a thumb across your cheekbone.

“they’ve been begging for this,” he murmured low, his mic catching every syllable. “but they don’t get you. i do.”

your fingers tugged at the waistband of his sweats, dragging them down with teasing slowness. the chat was explodingalready—hearts, donation pings, horny messages flying too fast to read.

his cock sprang free, hard and flushed and leaking, and you didn’t waste time—your lips wrapped around the head while he hissed through clenched teeth.

“fuck—yes, baby. just like that,” he moaned, voice rough and trembling.

you bobbed your head slowly at first, tongue circling the tip, making sure to be loud about it—each wet suck and messy slurp caught by the mic, echoing through the stream like the soundtrack to a dream. he groaned and held your hair back, letting everyone see the way your lips stretched around his cock, eyes glossy behind the lace mask.

“look at her,” he murmured, gaze flicking to the camera. “taking it so good, like a perfect little slut. you’re so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

you moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs twitch. spit dripped down your chin as you took him deeper, and he let out a breathless chuckle.

“they wish they were me,” he said, licking his lips. “but only i get to feel this mouth. only i get to fuck it raw.”

you choked a little when he gently thrust into your throat, but you didn’t stop—you loved it. you loved knowing thousands were watching you drool and gag around him, craving something they could never have.

he pulled you up by your arms, lips crashing onto yours in a messy kiss. his cock was wet between your bodies, twitching, desperate.

“get on my lap,” he growled, voice thick with need.

you straddled him, one hand guiding him to your entrance as you slowly, so slowly, sank down.

the stretch was unreal, every inch of him filling you up, and you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

“oh my god,” you gasped, hips rolling instinctively.

he grunted. “fuck, baby… fuck, you’re tight—been dreaming about this cunt since the first time i saw your name in my chat.”

your hands clung to his shoulders, bouncing gently on his cock as he held your waist and thrust up, hard and deep.

“yeah? you like showing them what they can’t touch?” he panted. “you like knowing they’re all jerking off to you being mine?”

you nodded, dazed, flushed all over.

“say it,” he growled, slapping your ass.

“i’m yours,” you whimpered. “all yours, yeonjun…”

“that’s fucking right.”

he adjusted the camera angle, making sure it caught your pussy swallowing his cock over and over as you rode him in a rhythm that made your thighs shake.

“fuck, baby, i can see how wet you are,” he groaned. “dripping down my balls—look at this mess. they’re fucking jealous, huh?”

you moaned loud, thighs burning, your mask slipping slightly but you didn’t care—you were too far gone.

he dragged you up, twisted your body so your back was against his chest, legs spread wide as he pistoned up into you.

your head dropped back onto his shoulder, a string of helpless cries leaving your lips.

he reached down, thumb circling your clit fast and tight.

“you gonna cum like this?” he panted in your ear. “with all of them watching? gonna cream on my cock while the world sees who really owns this little pussy?”

your body jerked, climax rushing over you in a tidal wave of heat and noise, clenching hard around him as he grunted and chased his own.

then he flipped you over onto the desk, bending you forward, ass up for the camera.

“still not done,” he murmured, slipping back in. “they’re gonna watch me fill you up.”

he fucked you hard, fast, raw. each thrust loud and wet, your body shaking, hands gripping the edge of the desk.

“so tight, baby—gonna cum so deep—gonna knock you the fuck up on stream, yeah?”

“yes, yes, please—cum in me, yeonjun—fuck, i want it—”

he groaned, shuddering, cock pulsing deep inside as he came, buried to the hilt.

and right before he reached over to end the stream, he leaned in, kissing your masked cheek.

“mine,” he whispered.

then the screen went black.

“soobin?” you poked your head through the door, watching as he looked up from his game, a smile growing on his face the second he recognized you.

“hey.”

“hi,” you stepped inside, shutting the door behind you.

“how was school?” he paused his game, his full attention on you for the time being.

“so tiring. i need to relax,” you sighed, the pounding in your head finally becoming noticeable.

soobin stared at you for a second before chuckling lightly.

“you can take a nap in my bed,” soobin spoke, “i’m gaming with beomgyu, but i’ll try and be quiet.”

the exhaustion in your eyes was evident, and you took him up on his offer happily, practically ready to just sleep on the ground at that point.

“oh, wait,” he stood up quickly, heading over to his tv to turn it on, “is jujutsu kaisen okay with you?”

you laughed quietly, getting situated under his covers, “i’m gonna be sleeping through it. put whatever on, soob.”

“whatever you say,” he smiled, walking back to his pc, “sleep well.”

you hummed in response, turning over to your side as you snuggled up, letting your eyes flutter shut as sleep began to envelop you.

you were grateful for this tradition. getting to hang out with your best friends after a long day of school. it didn’t matter if everyone was busy, just being able to be around them and enjoy each other’s company was enough for you.

you had to admit, ever since you started working along with going to college it got much harder to hang out, but you would always find ways to hang out with them multiple times a week, sometimes crashing on the couch overnight before leaving early for class the next day.

while you slowly lost consciousness, you listened to jujutsu kaisen playing quietly in the back, and the sounds of soobin tapping his keyboard as he talked with beomgyu quietly.

-

you woke up a good hour and a half later, feeling a bit more well rested.

you slowly sat up in bed, stretching your arms above your head as your eyes focused on soobin across from you.

all you could see from where you sat was the back of his head, and sometimes a glimpse of his side profile if he turned his head a bit.

you were pretty bored at this point, not knowing what else to do and deciding you wanted to spend time with your best friend.

soobin wouldn’t mind if you asked him to hang out, right?

you slowly crawled to the edge of the bed, calling out his name quietly.

“soobin.”

he didn’t hear, too engrossed with his game as he continued talking to beomgyu and hitting keys on his keyboard.

you reached your hand out to tap his shoulder lightly, “soobin.”

he jumped slightly at the action, pausing his game to turn around and look at you, slowly removing his headphones as he gave you an expectant look.

“what’s up?” he asked, fluffing his hair with one hand.

you cleared your throat, your eyes flickering across soobin’s face, suddenly aware of how attractive he really was. you blushed slightly, trying to not let it show how much of an effect he had on you. something about his hair in the dim light was getting to you.

“i was just, uhm.. bored,” you spoke quietly, now feeling embarrassed for pulling him out of his game to cater to your needs.

his face softened a bit, looking at his game before looking back at you, “you wanna hang out?”

“only if you want,” you sat back on your heels, trying not to look too desperate, but you were really bored and fiending for some attention at this point. and your eyes might have kept wandering to soobin’s lips a bit too much, or maybe it was you following his hand with your eyes as he brushed back his hair.

what you didn’t know was that he noticed everything, every little glimpse and action. he knew you were into him. but he wasn’t going to point that out.

“i would, but me and beomgyu still have a few hours of gaming left,” he responded with an apologetic look, trying to ignore the way your face visibly dropped at his sentence.

“how many?”

“like, uh, three,” he said, an embarrassed look on his face. you glanced at the clock to see it was already 10pm.

“oh, okay,” you responded, slowly beginning to scoot yourself back on the bed, “i’ll just go back to sleep.”

“you sure?” he turned around more, reaching for the tv remote, presumably ready to give it to you.

“yeah, i’m sure. don’t worry about it, i’m still tired anyway,” you yawned, lying back down and turning on your side, “i’ll talk to you later. night, soob.”

he hummed out a goodnight in response, before putting his headphones back on and turning around.

you were disappointed, you weren’t even going to lie. were you less important than the game to him? soobin would usually drop whatever he was doing to hang out with you when you came over, so of course you felt a bit discouraged right now.

but a part of you felt guilty for wanting his attention all to yourself. he was just trying to talk to beomgyu, and they deserve that without you whining. you decided to not ponder on it too much, and honestly soobin’s sheets were too comfortable for you to stay awake any longer. your thoughts became muddled as you once again let your eyes shut and went to sleep.

-

you woke up to the smell of ramen invading your nostrils. you really thought you were imagining things at first until you realized the smell was in fact right next to you.

you opened your eyes to see a large bowl of ramen, and a plate of kimchi sitting next to it. you smiled brightly as you took in the smell more, letting the comforting smell warm you up.

your mouth was watering as you took the first bite, letting out an audible hum and savoring the taste.

you figured soobin had to have made it at some point while you were asleep, looking up to see him taking a sip from his drink, head thrown back as he was close to finishing the bottle.

your eyes flickered to his adam’s apple, maybe staring for a bit longer than you needed to.

you silently thanked him in your head, not wanting to disrupt his gaming anymore, before taking another bite of the yummy dinner.

you didn’t even know if it could be called dinner anymore considering it was 11pm, but you were hungry.

you got lost in thought, eyes focusing in on soobin’s hands moving quickly across the keys, letting your gaze move to his head, watching his side profile become illuminated by his pc when he turned his head slightly.

it was eerily quiet in the room. soobin had turned the tv off at some point, the only light source in his room being his pc.

once again, your eyes dropped to his hands. long, skinny fingers hitting the keys quickly, sliding all over the keyboard as he typed a message out. a part of you felt bad for staring, but what could you say? soobin was attractive. anyone could see it.

you were lucky enough to call him your best friend, but there were certain points you wished you could be able to call him more.

small taps broke you out of your daydreaming, looking out the window to your left to see rain hitting the glass.

well, that’s amazing.

you didn’t remember seeing that it was gonna rain at all, and it was picking up pretty quickly, the soft taps on the window turning into fat droplets pelting the glass.

you grabbed your phone off the bedside table, opening the weather app only to see that it was going to be raining for the next few days.

and not just raining. storming. there was supposed to be thunder, lighting, and flash floods. you quickly accepted the fact you weren’t going home tonight, and if it was going to be storming like they were predicting you probably weren’t going to be leaving the apartment until it was over.

you slowly put your phone back down, going back to slowly eating your food, this time deciding to take a small bite out of the kimchi lying next to your ramen.

your attention was taken away from the food when you heard soobin shuffling in his seat.

he had turned around to look at you, seeming surprised you were awake.

“you’re up?”

“yeah, uhm, i just woke up like five minutes ago,” you responded, taking another bite of kimchi, “thanks for the food.”

he smiled, “it’s no problem, i felt bad for not being able to hang out. beomgyu just really wants to play games tonight since he’s not free any other day.”

“no, don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you were still slightly disappointed, but you weren’t going to let that show.

“also, it’s supposed to be raining for the rest of the night, i guess it’s gonna storm pretty bad,” you added.

soobin turned to look out the window, nodding at the sight, “well, you can sleep in here then, it’s gonna be too cold on the couch.”

you shook your head softly. the couch was already pretty cold on normal nights, so you didn’t even want to imagine how cold it was going to be if you slept on it tonight. you were glad soobin was offering up his bed, but that meant he was going to be cold.

“i don’t want you sleeping on the couch either,” you spoke quietly.

he tilted his head at you, lips pouting a bit, “who said i was sleeping on the couch?”

oh.

oh.

your lips parted into a small ‘o’ as you processed his words, just nodding at him. you were totally fine. you could do this! sharing a bed with soobin? your best friend? no big deal. you looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers as you bit your lip, trying to ignore the feeling of soobin’s eyes on you.

soobin watched you for a bit, waiting for your reply which never came. he slowly turned around and went back to his game, unpausing it to join beomgyu again.

you picked up your phone once again, confirming to yourself that it was going to be storming. you put your phone down, deciding the best thing to do at this point was sleep, you hated storms, you didn’t wanna have to deal with them and considering you left your headphones at your house you had nothing to help you.

slowly climbing out of bed, you trudged over to soobin, watching the small smile on his face as he chuckled at something beomgyu said. you tapped him on his shoulder lightly and he turned to look at you quickly, telling beomgyu to hold on a second.

“yes?” he asked, taking in the tired look in your eyes.

“i’m gonna go to sleep, just wanted to let you know,” you answered, giving him a small smile before heading back to the bed.

“goodnight, sleep well,” was all he said in response before turning back to his game.

as you climbed under the covers you couldn’t help but feel even more disappointed at the fact soobin was once again choosing his game over you.

what you didn’t know was that soobin felt terrible and he wanted more than anything to spend time with you. if you had come on any other day, it would’ve been perfectly fine. but him and beomgyu haven’t been able to hang out like this in weeks and he wanted to be able to spend time with his other best friend too. with the screen going black on his pc in between levels, he saw your pouty frame sitting in bed and holding onto his bunny plushie, before sighing and finally lying down.

he slowly lifted one of his headphones off of one of his ears, just barely enough so he could hear the outside noise well. just in case you needed anything, he would be able to hear clearly.

you were getting more comfortable in soobin’s sheets, nearly on the edge of passing out. sleep was starting to reach out for you, ready to envelope you in it’s soft embrace, lulling you off into dreamland. you snuggled your face further into soobin’s pillow, consciousness slipping further away from you- then a strike of thunder.

a loud gasp tore itself from your throat as you shot upright, gripping onto the sheets beside you as you tried to catch your breath. almost as fast as you shot up, soobin was spinning around in his chair to see your shaking frame.

“y/n? are you okay? what happened?” he questioned, staring at you with wide eyes.

“nothing, nothing,” your voice shook as you answered, “just a bad dream.”

you weren’t entirely sure if he believed you, he didn’t say anything for a couple seconds and just stared at you, and all you could do was hope another boom of thunder didn’t reverberate through the sky.

“are you sure?” he pressed further.

“i’m fine, soobin. don’t worry about me,” you smiled, a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reach your eyes, but it was enough for soobin to nod at you and turn back around towards his game, still being sure to keep one headphone off of his ear.

letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you slowly situated yourself back under the covers, trying to calm your breathing while snuggling further into soobin’s covers.

another boom or thunder shook the sky, your eyes scrunching shut as you held on tighter to soobin’s blanket, trying to ignore the loud noises. every time you were calming down more, another loud boom would follow, the sound filling your eardrums and causing panic to rise within you.

your knuckles were turning white from the hold you had on the sheets, feeling tears well up in your eyes as your breathing quickened. you just wanted the noise to stop. you hatred thunder.

ever since you were a little kid, you had memories of hiding under tables to get away from the thunder, letting out loud, wailing sobs as you clung onto your mom after she dragged you out, crying that you were scared of the loud noises in the sky. it was a fear that never truly went away, always sure to carry headphones with you if you knew it was going to rain so you could pop them in if thunder started and block the noises out of your mind. that however, wasn’t working today.

a small tear escaped your eye, followed by many more. you were trying to remain quiet, trying to calm your breathing which wasn’t really doing much, trying to push the fear out of your mind. small sniffles could be heard from you, burying your head further into soobin’s sheets, doing anything to drown out the noise.

you jumped at the feeling of a hand gently placing itself over yours, their thumb caressing your knuckles lightly. opening your eyes softly, soobin was kneeling next to the bed, concerned eyes looking into your teary eyes.

“are you scared of the thunder?” he spoke, glancing out the window before turning back to you.

you shook your head, staring at him, “no.”

“you’re scared of the thunder,” he replied.

“no, i’m not-” you tried to refute, but a crash of thunder sounded, your body tensing at the sound.

soobin stared at you for a bit with a solemn look on his face, his hand coming up to your face to wipe away your falling tears. you tried to ignore the way your breath hitched, and how your eyes widened slightly.

he stood up abruptly, startling you slightly, “come with me,” he spoke, holding out his hand for you to take.

your eyebrows furrowed slightly, but you knew you could trust him. you raised your hand slowly and grabbed onto his as you flung your legs over the edge of the bed, pushing yourself off to stand up.

you let him guide you over to his computer, his hands dropping to your waist to maneuver you to sit in his chair, giving you a small smile before he grabbed his headset.

“hey, beomgyu, y/n is gonna play with us for a bit. she’s taking my spot,” he explained into the microphone, and you heard a muffled response from the other side, not being able to make out what beomgyu was saying.

he pulled the headset off of his head, placing it over your ears and motioning for you to speak.

“hi,” you stammered, your hands resting on the edge of soobin’s desk, not wanting to mess up anything.

“hey y/n! i was getting sick of playing with that loser, i’m glad you’re here,” beomgyu responded, and you couldn’t help the abrupt laugh that slipped past your lips, lifting your head to look at soobin with a smile.

“what?” soobin asked with a confused look on his face, “is he talking shit about me?”

you shook your head, looking back down towards the screen, “well, i’m really bad at gaming. i wouldn’t get too happy. what even is this game?”

“we’re basically connected by a rope, and we have to work together to get the key that leads you to the next level. it’s mostly teamwork,” he explained while you nodded along to his words, forgetting he couldn’t see you.

“okay, i can do this. that sounds easy enough,” you smiled, your voice more determined as you placed your hands on the keyboard, looking up to soobin to make sure you were using the correct keys. he nodded, and you looked back down, ready to start.

you started walking forward, beomgyu’s character moving with yours, beomgyu going to jump while you fell, dragging both of your characters down.

you sucked in some air, your face scrunching up, “sorry! i didn’t mean to do that.”

you heard beomgyu’s muffled laugh on the other side, “you’re fine. not everyone can be an amazing gamer like i am.”

a soft giggle escaped your lips, shaking your head as you played along with an exaggerated tone to your voice, “oh, right, i’m so sorry. i’ll get it right next time.”

you lied. you had tried six more times, and the same exact thing happened every time. you were starting to feel more embarrassed and you could tell beomgyu was getting slightly restless.

you weren’t on time with beomgyu, you would jump too early and he would fall, or you would jump too late and he would fall. you looked down with an embarrassed look as a sigh left your lips.

“i’m sorry, beomgyu. i told you i wasn’t good at this,” you muttered, your hands coming up to cover your face.

“it’s okay, we’ve got this,” he reassured you, sensing how nervous you were starting to get.

“here,” soobin chimed in from behind you, his hands reaching around you to grab your wrists lightly, “put your hands on the keys.”

you nodded, lowering your hands to place them on the keyboard again, situating yourself in a more upright position.

you felt soobin place his fingers on top of yours, his warm touch sending a shiver up your arms. you sucked in a breath, one you were sure both beomgyu and soobin heard. you clenched your eyes shut for a second in embarrassment and wished soobin didn’t have this much of an effect on you.

“i’ll help you,” he whispered, leaning down so his head was next to yours. if you weren’t wearing the headset he would’ve been whispering directly into your ear. you pushed away the lustful thoughts that filled your brain, clearing your throat and nodding at his words.

“okay..” you squeaked, your voice small. this was humiliating.

“soobin’s gonna help me, beomgyu,” you informed him, soobin guiding your hand to click the restart button on the level, the screen flashing as you two were once again at the starting point.

“i heard him, don’t worry,” he spoke, and you smiled slightly. soobin’s hands pressed down on your fingers, guiding your character to move, quickly getting through the part you were struggling with before.

“not so hard, was it?” he asked so quietly, it was almost a whisper. you turned your head to the side slightly, your breath coming out shaky when you realized how close your faces were.

you nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours with a small smile, “yeah..”

getting through the levels after that was easy, and you had gotten accustomed to the feeling of soobin being so close to you. you were bickering with beomgyu, the two of you talking about everything while you went through the levels, with the occasional jab towards soobin beomgyu would make.

you would laugh every time, soobin simply shaking his head. he was close enough to your ear to hear what beomgyu was saying, responding to the insults and listening to the way beomgyu would get quiet before bursting out with a laugh, not knowing soobin had heard him.

you had completely forgotten about the storm at this point, too caught up in the game as the levels got harder and harder. to be fair, you were barely doing any work. but it was still fun to at least be playing a part in it.

“okay, we have to lock in. this level is gonna be hard,” beomgyu said, and you heard him take a deep breath as you looked at the screen in front of you.

it definitely didn’t look easy.

“soobin, better work hard-“ beomgyu began to tease, his voice cutting out as soobin’s computer shut off, leaving the room pitch black. your eyebrows furrowed as you stared at the screen, turning to face soobin with a concerned look.

he mirrored your expression, turning to look at the screen, “uh.. let me..”

he bent down, checking the plugs and clicking the keyboard a couple times, a slight hum leaving him.

“i don’t know what happened, everything is still connected,” he mumbled, standing back up to look down at you.

a loud knock on the door caused you to jump slightly, soobin turning around to look.

“yeah?,” he called, waiting for a reply.

“the power went out!” hueningkai called from the other side, and soobin turned to look back at you, the computer turning off suddenly making a lot more sense.

“oh, makes sense,” he responded, reaching down to pull the headphones off of your ears and place them on the table next to you. the two of you shared an embarrassed look, both wondering why you didn’t think of that at first.

“hey, where’s y/n? i haven’t seen her,” hueningkai continued. you looked up at soobin with a small smile, a soft giggle leaving you.

“she’s in here. she’s staying with me tonight,” he responded, smiling back at you.

“oh,” he mumbled, a pause before his next words, “okay. goodnight.”

“goodnight,” the two of you called back, listening as hueningkai’s footsteps descended from the door. silence surrounding the two of you once again.

it was hard to see soobin at all. the room was pitch black, and he looked like a silhouette in front of you, nothing more.

“i’m gonna go get some candles,” he blurted, breaking the silence and beginning to make a move for the door.

your hand moved before you could think too much about it, grabbing onto his wrist and stopping him from going any further. well, let’s be honest, you weren’t stopping him at all. he could’ve kept walking if he wanted to. but he stopped for you.

“don’t go,” you whispered, your grip on his wrist loosening as you lowered your hand back down into your lap, beats of silence passing as you waited for his response.

he hummed quietly, turning back towards you, “okay.”

he was standing so close to you, looking down at you, and from the proximity you could make out his eyes, a sly smile playing on his lips as he spoke, “you’re really dependent on me, aren’t you?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, a laugh leaving you, “shut up.”

he did, surprisingly. he tilted his head to the side, almost observing you. a loud crash of thunder filled the room with noise, your eyes clenching shut as your body went rigid.

“soobin,” you squeaked out, not even realizing his name had left your lips as you looked up at him, panic flashing across your face.

you felt your eyes grow watery, a pout forming on your lips as you met his eyes. he looked like he was once again trying to figure out what to do. he couldn’t distract you with technology this time, he couldn’t block out the noise for you. a small tear slipped down your face, a broken whimper leaving your lips as more thunder sounded throughout the quiet room. you couldn’t even be embarrassed about crying over thunder at this point. you were so overwhelmed.

soobin’s hands reached under your legs, pulling them towards him, before reaching his arms behind your chest and lifting you up, holding you bridal style.

a small part of your mind flickered to how strong he was, how easily he was able to pick you up and how easily he was able to carry you.

he shuffled over to the bed, lighting tossing your body down as you landed with a quiet “oomph”. your eyes flickered down towards him, trying to make out where he was in the darkness.

you saw him lift one leg up onto the bed, leaning his upper body over you as he held eye contact with you, not saying anything, just watching how you reacted to him.

he slowly began to crawl up your body, the only noise being your shaky breaths and the rain hitting the window. shivers erupted across your body as you felt him get higher.

what the fuck is he doing? you thought to yourself, your eyebrows scrunching up in confusion as you watched him.

he was so close now, leaning right over your face. a lightning strike lit up the room, your eyes meeting soobin’s more clearly. there was desire evident in his eyes, your mind going haywire. you had to have been imagining that, right? there’s no way.

he leaned down very slightly, his voice quiet and breathy as he spoke, “do you want me to help you?”

a small gasp slipped past your lips, your eyes wide. you couldn’t say anything. the words wouldn’t leave your mouth. this was not happening. this was not reality.

he leaned down, his face so, so close to yours, before he moved his head towards your ear, his breath tickling your skin as he continued, “use your words. yes or no.”

a shiver ran down your spine, a shaky breath leaving your lips as your body finally forced the words out, “yes. please.”

you felt him smile against your ear, lifting his head once again so he was hovering over you. he reached one hand out to wipe the still-wet tears on your face, his thumb then trailing down to your lips and pulling your bottom lip down before letting it slap back into place.

god, he was so hot. you sucked in a breath of air at the action, your eyes locked on his as began to lean down.

it was soft. his lips were so soft, slowly moving against your own as he titled your head up slightly to access your mouth better. a soft whine slipped past your lips, your hands coming up to wrap around his shoulders.

he pulled away, looking into your eyes. this was your best friend. you were kissing your best friend. your hands slid up to his hair, tangling themselves in his roots and tugging slightly, hearing him suck in a breath of air before his lips were back against yours.

his tongue prodded lightly at your bottom lip, and you obliged easily, opening your mouth to let him in. he was so gentle with his kisses, but they were all-consuming at the same time. his hand that was on your jaw moved down your body, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt before he pushed his hand under slowly.

a gasp left your lips at the feeling of his cold hand on your warm stomach, his large hand splayed out on your abdomen. he wasn’t moving it, just holding it there, like he was waiting for you to tell him to stop. like he wanted you to tell him this was a bad idea.

you didn’t. you would never. fuck, you’ve wanted him for so long, you weren’t going to cut things off now.

his mouth was pushing harder against yours, his kisses getting slightly more rough. your thighs rubbed together while your fingers found themselves tugging at his hair once again. you felt him smirk against your lips, his hand finally beginning to inch up your abdomen.

another crash of thunder. your lips stuttered against his, the grip you had on his hair loosening at the sound. you were so enthralled, you had forgotten why you two started making out in the first place.

he pulled away from you slightly, just enough so he could speak, your lips still brushing each other so very lightly.

“focus on me. not the thunder. i’m right here,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss to your lips before moving down to your neck.

you only nodded at his words. you felt like you were in a dream at this point. his lips softly kissed at your neck, nipping slightly in certain spots before he made sure to run his tongue over the spot, pressing a small kiss before moving on to another spot.

you rolled your head back against the sheets, giving him all the access he needed as a quiet moan slipped past your lips. a fleeting thought of how you would explain this to hueningkai in the morning popped into your mind but you decided that was a problem for tomorrow.

you felt his fingers reach the bottom of your bra before stopping and tapping your skin lightly. you guessed he was asking if it was okay to keep going further.

“yes,” you spoke, your voice breathy and sounding foreign to yourself. he hadn’t even done anything to you yet. his hand moved up higher, cupping your bra-covered breast in his hand and giving it a light squeeze.

a moan slipped past your lips before you shut your mouth quickly. you had forgotten you weren’t alone for a second. you felt him laugh against your neck, his breath tickling you and the sound so soft. he sat up, the hand that was holding himself up moving to the bottom of your shirt.

“can i take this off?,” his voice was quiet, but it wasn’t nervous. no, he sounded confident. it only turned you on more, a whine slipping past your lips as you nodded your head, arching your back slightly to make it easier for him.

he pulled your shirt over your head quickly, tossing it to a random corner in the room before he was leaving down, his lips latching on to your chest. you sucked in a breath at the action.

“soobin,” you whispered quietly, your voice shaky and ridden with need. you didn’t know where to put your hands, they were going from his shoulder, to his hair, to his biceps.

his hand snaked under your back and you lifted yourself off the bed as best you could as he undid your bra. you tried not to let the fact that he did it effortlessly with one hand linger for too long in your mind. he slid your bra off your body slowly, before leaning back down to press a kiss on your now exposed breast, his other hand coming up to play with the other one. his lips latched onto your nipple, lolling his tongue over the pebbled skin and you swore you were going to go insane.

gasps and whines were leaving your lips as he continued to pleasure both of ur breasts, humming against your exposed flesh. he pulled away just slightly, his hand continuing to squeeze and caress your other breast as he mumbled, “you’re so pretty, fuck.”

“more,” you whimpered out, any proper responses long gone from your mind at this point. your hands clawed at his shirt as best you could, trying to pull it over his head. he got the memo, sitting up and tugging the offensive piece of clothing off of him, your eyes taking in his now exposed chest.

it wasn’t something you hadn’t seen before- no, you had seen him shirtless hundreds of times. this felt different. so, so different.

he leaned back down, trailing kisses down your torso while his hands roamed before finally setting on the hem of your sweats, “lift for me.”

you pushed your hips off the bed slightly, giving him access to pull your sweats and panties down slowly. you heard a small gasp escape his lips, your legs pushing together out of instinct, “you’re soaking, y/n, fuck.”

he hummed, shaking his head before pulling your legs apart, “don’t hide from me.” you whined softly as your head lolled to the side, embarrassment flooding through you. you shouldn’t be embarrassed, really. but nerves were still coursing through your body, your eyes clenching shut.

“hey.” his hands rubbed your thighs lightly, pulling your attention back to him, “why are you so nervous?”

you didn’t say anything for a bit, pursing your lips as you thought of a response. “you make me nervous,” you finally mumbled out, looking down at him slowly.

he chuckled softly, his fingers moving further up your thighs, closer to where you needed him. a soft gasp left your lips, your eyes widening slightly. he hummed, his eyes flickering down and back up, “i do?”

you nodded, a small- and borderline embarrassing- whimper slipping past your lips. your hips wiggled slightly despite your nerves, trying to get him closer to where you needed him. “soobin, please,” you gasped out, your eyes staring into his.

he finally obliged, one of his fingers sliding through your folds, a sharp gasp leaving you. “keep your eyes on the mirror, baby,” he mumbled, giving you a smirk as your head fell back, your eyes barely being able to make out the sight that was being reflected on the mirror.

“want you to watch as i ruin you,” he continued, your body tensing at his words. god, you were not making it out of this. his fingers slid up to your clit, slowly massaging the bundle of nerves. your breathing sped up, a soft moan slipping past your lips as your hands grabbed onto the sheets beside you.

“soob, please. need you so bad,” you whined, grinding your hips up into his hand. his other hand moved to your abdomen, pushing down to keep your hips in place. a moan left you, your hands moving from the sheets to his hair.

“patience,” he replied, a teasing lilt to his voice. his fingers moved from your clit, two of his fingers prodding at your entrance before pushing in slowly. you moaned softly, your head rolling back. “eyes on the mirror,” he mumbled a reply, pulling his fingers out almost all the way before pushing them back in.

you didn’t really hear him, focusing too heavily on the feeling of his fingers. until you felt him latch onto your clit, his lips sucking lightly and drawing a mix of a moan and a gasp from your lips, “fuck!”

you pulled your vision back to the mirror, the sight barely illuminated, the only thing visible being your silhouettes- which were still incredibly hard to see. your fingers tugged at soobin’s hair, trying your best to contain your sounds as you bit your lip so hard you were sure you could draw blood soon.

he was licking and sucking at your clit, his fingers speeding up inside of you, the wet sounds that were leaving your pussy were something you would have normally been embarrassed by, but you were too far gone by this point.

whispers of his name and profanities were leaving your lips, your hands gripping his hair harder as he hummed against you, sending a chill throughout your body. you felt the first tingling’s of your orgasm creeping up on you, your legs threatening to close around his head.

“soobin- soobin ‘m close..” you struggled out between whines, unable to do anything besides take what he was giving you, throwing your head back against the pillow.

soobin removed his fingers, moving his hands to hold either of your thighs down as he moved his tongue, licking a long stripe up your heat. one of your hands flew from his hair to your mouth, struggling to hold in the noises leaving your lips at this point.

“you’re so fucking wet. tastes so good,” he mumbled against your lips, licking and sucking harder as he pushed your legs further apart, practically making out with your cunt, “you gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my tongue?”

you nodded dumbly, too close to your orgasm to process his words or anything that was happening around you besides the feeling creeping up on you. your eyes were trained on the ceiling, your orgasm growing tighter, so close to falling over the edge.

a lightning strike lit up the room, giving you a perfect view of soobin’s head in between your thighs, your hand gripping his hair, and your fucked out face. you stared back at your reflection, the familiar feeling creeping up on you all too quickly.

“fuck, i’m gonna-“ you started, your orgasm cutting you off as your back arched into the air, your hand tugging harder at soobin’s hair. your body shook, his hands pushing your thighs down harder as he groaned into your cunt, the feeling heightening your orgasm. muffled whines pushed their way past your lips, although your hand was trying its best to muffle the noises.

soobin wasn’t slowing down. even as you started to come down from your orgasm, tinges of overstimulation mixing pain with pleasure, he kept going. “soobin.. too much,” you whimpered, your hand falling from your mouth to grab onto his hair, attempting to push his head away.

“you taste so good,” he responded, his voice muffled and sending vibrations up your core, your legs twitching at the feeling.

“soobin,” you mewled, tears welling up in your eyes as you attempted to push your thighs together, your head falling to the side.

he lifted his head, looking up at your shaking form with a small smirk adorning his lips, “you can give me one more, can’t you?”

he went back to eating you out almost immediately, except this time he removed one of his hands from your thigh, pushing two of his fingers inside your dripping hole, beginning to thrust them in and out.

you threw your head back, a gasp falling from your lips as your hands tugged at his hair. “i can’t.. soobin,” you whimpered, tears falling down your face at the feeling.

he moved his free hand, once again pressing his hand down on your stomach as he sped up his fingers, the feeling pushing you close to the edge once again. you but your lip hard, holding in the noises threatening to leave your lips as he continued his ministrations.

you couldn’t even give soobin a warning this time, your second orgasm crashing over you as your eyes rolled back, your pussy gushing all over his fingers and face.

he helped you ride out your orgasm, slowly pulling his fingers out of you once it started becoming too much again. he pressed a soft kiss to your sensitive clit, your legs jumping slightly at the feeling.

he pushed himself back up your body, enveloping your lips in a soft kiss. you tasted yourself on his lips, humming quietly into the kiss. he ground himself against your core, his bulge applying the perfect amount of friction against your clit. you gasped against his lips as your head tilted back slightly.

he looked down at you, a teasing expression on his face, “what’s wrong?”

you couldn’t care less that he was teasing you at this point, grinding your core up against him. “need you,” you mumbled.

“yeah?” he teased, continuing to grind his hard cock against you. he wanted to be inside you so bad, his sweats were painful at this point and your pussy was providing the perfect amount of friction for him. he wanted to keep teasing you, to see how far he could push you, but his self control was shattering more every second.

he pulled away, a whine falling from your lips at the feeling disappearing. you looked up at him with a pout, “why’d you stop?”

“i’d rather you come on my cock,” he replied simply, his words rendering you speechless. he tugged his sweats and underwear down in one go, his hard cock slapping against his stomach. the tip was red and leaking, your mouth dropping open at the sight. he stroked himself a few times with his hand, a cocky smile on his lips when he noticed your reaction.

“holy shit,” you mumbled, a new wave of arousal washing over you. he leaned his body over yours once more, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“are you ready?” he asked softly, lining himself up with your entrance. you nodded quickly, letting out a desperate hum as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back down to your lips. he reciprocated the kiss immediately, pushing his hips forward slowly and enveloping himself in your tight heat.

you gasped, your lips separating from his as your face scrunched up and a moan spilled past your lips, closing your mouth quickly. soobin’s eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he continued to move forward slowly, “fuck, you’re so tight.”

you couldn’t get any words out, noises stuck in your throat as he practically split you open on his cock. he finally bottomed out, his thighs flush against the back of yours. you could feel every ridge and vein, a deep breath leaving him as he spoke, his voice shaky, “i’m gonna start moving.”

“okay,” you whispered, a whine slipping past your lips as he pulled out, pushing himself back in quicker than before. you couldn’t think straight, your mind muddled and completely focused on how good you felt right now, how soobin was fucking you just right, setting a perfect rhythm.

“soobin, fuck,” you mumbled, your hands moving to his neck, his arms, his back, anywhere that you could get a hold of to ground yourself. the sound of skin slapping skin reverberated quietly throughout the room, the both of you trying your best to be quiet, but, fuck, it was hard.

“gonna make you cum on my cock. make you forget about everything else,” he sighed, his hand coming down to push on your stomach, your eyes rolling back at the pressure, “fuck, you’re taking me so well, baby.”

he stopped his movement, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips as you looked up at him, “no- no, don’t stop.”

he didn’t answer, grabbing your legs and pressing them to your chest, holding them there by the back of your knees as he started to move again, the new angle making him feel even deeper. “fuck, oh my god,” you whimpered, throwing your head back against the pillow. he had you practically locked under his hold, unable to do anything besides take all of him.

a certain thrust had him pushing up right against your g-spot, a broken gasp leaving your lips as your hand shot out to the sides, gripping the sheets as your eyes rolled back. soobin caught on quickly, rolling his hips up against the same spot, “right there?”

“yes, yes, please, oh my god,” you babbled, trying your best to hold the sounds threatening to push past your lips in. he picked up his pace more, hitting the perfect spot repeatedly. you felt your high growing quickly, the band getting ready to snap.

“soobin, i’m close,” you whined, his hand immediately coming down to rub circles on your clit. the added stimulation pushed you even closer to the edge, your eyes clenching shut.

“me too, baby. gonna stuff you full of my cum,” he groaned out, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared the edge, “you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“pleeease, i need it. need your cum,” you whine, your hands pulling at the sheets harder as you feel the band in your stomach growing tighter, “i’m gonna cum- soob!”

he sped up his thrusts, rubbing harder at your clit, “cum for me.”

his words pushed you over the edge, your toes clenching and eyes rolling back as your orgasm exploded, your release gushing all over his cock. your pussy clenched tightly around him, making it harder for soobin to move as he groaned, watching how your face contorted as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

“fuck, baby. squeezing me so tight. i’m gonna cum, gonna fill you up,” his voice was strangled and shaky, his hips slamming against yours as he shot his cum inside you, throwing his head back and clenching his eyes shut. he rocked his hips slowly against yours, helping the two of you ride out your highs.

your breathing slowed down as your body relaxed into the sheets, trying to process what had just happened. his forehead dropped against yours softly as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before releasing your legs, them instantly falling down by your sides.

“hey,” he whispered against your lips, a soft smile playing on his lips as his hands came up to your face, pressing another kiss to your lips before he continued, “want you to ride me.”

your eyes snapped open, staring into his eyes with an exasperated look, “soobin, i’ve come three times already. i can’t do another one.”

“oh, but i think you can,” he smiled, looking out the window before turning back to you, “besides, it’s still thundering outside.”

you couldn’t even get an answer out before he was flipping the two of you over, a gasp leaving your mouth as your hands shot out to his chest to steady yourself. the new position had him hitting different spots inside you, your pussy clenching around his hardening cock.

a corner of his lip lifted, his hand slapping your ass lightly, “turn around for me, baby.”

you obliged, pulling off of him with shaky legs as you both winced at the feeling as you moved your body, positioning yourself over him once again. you were trying to ignore the soreness in your legs, grabbing his now hard dick and aligning him with your entrance before slowly sinking down.

you bit your lip hard, holding back the moan of pleasure, a small whimper slipping out instead. “fuck, soobin,” you whined, your head dropping to your chest as you continued to lower yourself, finally feeling him bottom out.

“just like that, doing so good for me, hm?” he mumbled, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he helped guide your movements, your mouth falling open at the new feeling. you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his cock, your hands steadying themselves on his thighs, helping you move quicker as you bit back moans and cries.

your legs were stinging, threatening to give out on you as you tried to keep going and push yourself through the pain. it didn’t work, your legs dropping down as you took a deep breath. you tried to lift yourself up again, but soobin’s hands held you in place.

“relax,” he murmured quietly, bending his knees and pushing his feet into the mattress, his hips thrusting up into yours and immediately setting a brutal pace. you couldn’t fight the loud cry that left your lips, one of your hands slapping up to your mouth as you tried your best to muffle the desperate sounds leaving you.

he was so deep, hitting you in places that had tears welling up in your eyes, your hand gripping onto his thigh like a lifeline. “too much!” you cried, the hand on your mouth dropping down to his other thigh to hold yourself in place.

one of his hands moved from your hip, slowly sliding up the rest of your body before he reached your neck, grabbing your chin and angling your head up towards the ceiling. “look at yourself, baby. how good you’re taking me,” he spoke gruffly, voice consumed by lust.

your fucked-our face was staring back at you, teary eyes and mouth hung open, soobin’s hand holding your chin and his hips pistoning up into yours. his eyebrows were furrowed, his lips pulled between his teeth as he watched the way you sucked him in. you couldn’t help the loud moan that left you at the lewd sight.

it was like a dam broke. all the moans and whimpers you had been holding in were slipping past your lips as the tears that had been welling up in your eyes spilled over. he angled his hips just right, thrusting up against your g-spot again as a loud cry left you. you didn’t even have to tell him at this point, he knew. he kept the angle, repeatedly hitting the same spot that made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

he chuckled quietly behind you, his voice strangled as he spoke, “you want hueningkai to know how good i’m fucking you?” you clenched tightly around him at his words, a whimper leaving your lips. you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke again, “you liked that, didn’t you? dirty girl.”

“yes, w-want everyone to know- need you,” you stammered out, your voice shaky and cut off with moans. you were nearing the edge for the fourth time that night, loud, unabashed moans leaving your lips as your hands pushed harder against his thighs, trying to ground yourself somehow.

you were so far gone at this point, only caring about the pleasure coursing through you. you felt like you were in a different dimension. you were so close to tipping over the edge, your cunt beginning to clench around soobin as you cried out.

“you close, baby?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. he doubled down on his efforts, thrusting into you faster, if that was even possible at this point.

“please- please.. need to cum, fuck, please, let me cum, soobin, please, want you to fill me up!” you pleaded, tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes clenched shut. you were so close to falling over the edge, the knot in your stomach tightening more and more, so close to snapping, so close to-

your vision went white, your mouth falling open as a cry left you as your cunt spasmed wildly around him. it was euphoric, your body twitching and spasming as he held you in place, beginning to chase his own high. you could do nothing besides take it, whimpers and cries leaving your lips as the pleasure morphed into pain.

“i’m almost there baby, fuck, just-“ he started, his thrusts sloppy and quick as he neared the edge, “i’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck”

you watched his face with bleary eyes when he came, the reflection dark and hard to make out. his eyebrows were squinted closed and his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth hung open as he filled you up, pulling you down as hard as he could, hot white seed filing you to the brim and spilling out from being so stuffed.

his grip on you loosened, pulling you back against his chest. the position was uncomfortable, your legs and back bent at a weird angle, but you were too far gone to think about that right now. he smiled at your pliantness, adjusting your legs for you the best he could, pulling himself out of you slowly.

you whined at the sting, his hand stroking your arm as he whispered, “it’s okay, just relax, alright?” you nodded, soobin sliding himself out from underneath you so he was next to you, turning on his side and facing you.

“hey,” he mumbled with a smile, watching as you turned your head to meet his eyes with a shy smile.

“hi,” you giggled, your voice hoarse and sleepy.

“i’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he admitted quietly, biting his lip as he averted his vision.

your eyes widened slightly, turning your body fully to face him as you responded, “you have?”

“yeah,” he said, a small laugh leaving his lips as he looked back at you, “i’ve wanted you since we became friends. i just didn’t wanna make things awkward. but you would always give me these looks and i couldn’t tell if you liked me or not. tonight i just.. i couldn't help myself, i guess.”

your mouth fell open slightly, a smile forming on your lips as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips, “i’ve always been yours, soobin.”

his eyes lit up, a big smile taking over his features as his hand reached up to cup your jaw, pulling your lips back against his. this kiss was different from the others. it was sweet, full of emotion and untold feelings that had finally come to surface.

he pulled away slowly, resting his forehead against yours as he spoke, “let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” as you nodded along to his words, the rain pouring outside the window as the storm raged on, one thought circulated through your mind.

maybe thunder wasn’t so bad after all.

oh, and how you were going to explain this to hueningkai in the morning.

you met taehyun during your first year of university, both of you quiet but oddly compatible from the start. it began with you sitting next to each other during intro to comparative literature, silently exchanging glances during awkward icebreakers, sharing sighs when the professor assigned a 10-page paper in the second week. it was a natural progression—first study sessions at the library, then morning coffee runs before lectures, until eventually you were part of each other’s routines without really noticing when it happened.

he was smart, thoughtful in that understated way, always carrying a notebook half-full of ideas or lyrics or just random observations. you liked being around him, even if you didn’t talk about everything. and he liked being around you, even if he never said it out loud. your dynamic was comfortable, even domestic. after early classes, you’d both stop at the campus café for breakfast—he always paid, no matter how often you tried to fight him on it—and then you’d split: him to whatever mysterious thing he had lined up next, you to your shift at the small off-campus café where you worked until closing.

he once mentioned that he worked nights too, when you were both sharing notes at his place. “it’s nothing serious,” he said, shrugging, eyes not quite meeting yours. “just something to make rent.” you’d smiled at him, trusting him enough not to ask. “as long as it’s not illegal or life-threatening, i won’t pry.” “it’s not,” he’d chuckled, almost too quickly. “then don’t worry. we all hustle.”

and that was the end of it.

the thing was—you were always a little tired, always stretched too thin between your coursework and your café shifts. taehyun noticed, and he started walking you home whenever he could, even if it meant going out of his way. he’d wait for you outside your café on thursdays when your closing shift dragged late, hands buried in his coat pockets, hoodie half-zipped and eyes sleepy. you teased him for it, told him he didn’t need to play the part of the noble friend—but secretly, you liked how protective he could be. how safe it felt walking beside him under the quiet streetlights.

you didn’t question much, even when you noticed little things: how he never took calls around you, how he was careful with his phone, how sometimes he’d show up to morning lectures looking like he hadn’t slept at all. maybe you just didn’t want to disturb the balance you had. maybe you thought, whatever it was, it didn’t matter—not as long as he kept being your taehyun.

that illusion held until one afternoon when you were sitting at the back patio of the café on your break, sipping watered-down iced coffee with sei and doyeon.

you’d known them both since your first semester—sei was bright and unpredictable, always saying things that caught people off guard; doyeon was calmer, serious about her studies, but sweet once you got past the reserved surface. the three of you didn’t always get time to hang out, but when you did, it was always honest, laughter bubbling up between complaints about professors, roommates, and endless assignments.

that day, doyeon had been especially stressed. “i’m thinking of quitting my job,” she said, pressing a cold can of soda to her cheek. “i just can’t keep up with school and working five shifts a week.”

“you’re still at the convenience store, right?” you asked, and she nodded, grimacing.

“i’m thinking of just going back to my parents’ place. it’s a bit far, but at least i won’t have to pay rent.”

“unless you find another source of income,” you said with a wry smile, “like opening an onlyfans.”

sei choked on her drink, laughing so hard she had to wipe her mouth. “god, i dare you.”

“no way,” doyeon said, laughing along. “i wouldn’t even know what to do. besides, what would i post?”

“feet pics,” you said with a grin. “or softcore cosplay.”

sei leaned back in her chair, smirking. “you know… you should do what taehyun does.”

you blinked. “wait, taehyun?”

“what, he never told you?” sei asked, and you watched the mischief light up in her eyes like a match held too close to gasoline. “he’s a streamer.”

“like… video games?” you asked, confused, already picturing taehyun in his room, headset on, calm voice narrating through long hours of league or valorant.

sei snorted. “not quite.”

“what does that mean?” doyeon asked, suddenly alert.

sei looked between the two of you, grinning wide. “he’s a camboy.”

the words didn’t land at first. they just hovered, too surreal, too sharp in the open air.

“a… what?” you said slowly.

“camboy,” sei repeated, clearly enjoying herself now. “you know. the kind of streamer who jerks off for tips.”

doyeon’s mouth fell open. “you’re serious?”

sei nodded, sipping casually from her drink like she hadn’t just flipped your entire world on its head.

you sat frozen, the sounds around you dulling under the pounding in your chest. something twisted in your stomach—shock first, then confusion, then something darker. was that the job he’d been hiding from you all this time? was that what he did at night?

your throat was dry. your thoughts scrambled. you wanted to say it didn’t make sense—but as your brain began to connect the pieces, everything started clicking into place.

the sleepless eyes. the careful secrecy. the way he’d always deflected questions. the soft voice when he whispered through the phone, once, thinking you were asleep: i’m working late tonight, i’ll see you in the morning.

you hadn’t thought twice then.

now you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

sei kept talking, clearly unaware—or maybe fully aware—of the storm inside you. “i mean, he’s hot, so it’s not shocking,” she said. “he’s got that whole mysterious, low-voice, pretty-hands thing going for him. and the girls in my dorm? obsessed.”

doyeon leaned forward, whispering like someone afraid to get caught. “but how do you know?”

“i’ve seen the stream,” sei said, almost smug. “i only realized it was him because i used to… well, we used to date. for a while. he never told me outright, but when i stumbled on the stream by accident one night—his voice, the way he touches his own mouth when he gets too into it—there was no mistaking him.”

you couldn’t breathe.

your mind was flooded with the sound of his voice. your taehyun. the same one who passed you sticky notes during class, who held doors open for you, who offered you his hoodie when it rained. the one you trusted, the one you never questioned. the one who never told you.

a camboy.

it sounded unreal.

but maybe the most unreal part was how your heart wasn’t recoiling in judgment. it was racing with something else entirely.

because if it was true… you wanted to see it for yourself.

you laid on your bed like someone who had been carrying too many thoughts and finally collapsed beneath their weight. your hair was a mess, your shirt slightly twisted from how you had rolled over too quickly, restlessly, like your body couldn’t decide what to do with itself. taehyun had texted earlier that he couldn’t pick you up tonight because he had a “commitment,” and you’d replied with a simple "no worries," even adding a smiley face you didn’t feel. in truth, a part of you felt relieved — you didn’t want to see him. not yet. not with everything sei had said echoing in your head like it was stuck in a loop. a camboy, seriously? the idea alone had been hard to grasp. taehyun, your taehyun, the guy who helped you cram for exams and always remembered your coffee order, doing... that?

you turned onto your side and stared at your laptop sitting quietly on your desk, closed but somehow louder than anything else in the room. your fingers twitched like they were reaching for something even you didn’t want to admit. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was something else entirely. the thought that maybe sei was wrong lingered for a moment, but she hadn’t looked like she was joking. she had laughed in that knowing, sharp way that made you feel like the only one left in the dark. you bit your lip, hesitating, before finally sitting up and dragging the laptop onto your bed.

your fingers hovered over the keyboard. you typed slowly — deliberately — as if every key pressed was another line crossed. camboy livestream site. the search results loaded almost instantly, and your heart pounded in your ears like you were about to do something criminal. you hesitated, thinking about the things your grandmother used to say — that angels watched over you, that you were never really alone. for a second, you almost laughed at the memory, but instead, you just felt worse. you scrolled through the links, choosing the first one not because it was the best but because it was there, and it was fast, and because if you paused any longer you might back out.

the page opened to dozens of tiny thumbnails, each with men of all kinds in various poses — most of them shirtless, many of them staring straight at the camera with eyes like they were looking for someone. it was overwhelming, too much noise, too many faces, and you were just about to close the whole thing when your eyes caught on one stream. it wasn’t the person’s face that drew you first, it was the room behind him — the muted tones, the gray wall with three framed prints, the bed pushed to the corner, the guitar stand by the window. your breath caught. you’d seen that room before. you’d been in that room.

you clicked on the stream before you could stop yourself. the screen loaded slowly, like the universe wanted to draw out your panic. when the image finally came into focus, you froze.

your body went cold.

the username in the corner read kth02.

and there he was.

he was leaning back against his pillows, the soft lamplight casting warm shadows across his chest, but it wasn’t the fact that he was shirtless that had your breath stalling. it was him. it was the exact shape of his jaw, the small mole on the side of his neck, the way his fingers moved as he adjusted the camera slightly, always calm, always intentional. there was no doubt. you knew that face. you knew that room. you knew that voice — even though he wasn’t speaking yet, you knew it. you’d heard it a thousand times in cafés, in hallways, in whispered study sessions late at night.

your hand went to your mouth. not in fear, not entirely — more in awe. more in a kind of stunned disbelief that curled inside your chest like smoke. how could this be real? how could he be doing this — your taehyun? you blinked, trying to force your brain to make sense of it. was this his “commitment”? the job he never talked about, the one he always brushed off with a shrug and a “just something I do at night”?

you stared longer than you should have. you didn’t mean to, but something in your chest was frozen and aching and fascinated all at once. you felt wrong for watching. you felt something else for watching, too — and that scared you more than anything. because for the first time since sei had said it, you couldn’t unsee it. it was real. it was him. and now, even if you closed the tab and threw the laptop across the room, that image — that knowledge — wouldn’t leave you.

you were still sitting there, laptop open on your thighs, screen glowing dimly in the darkness of your dorm, when your phone buzzed.

taehyun [9:12 p.m.] “made it home safe? i owe you coffee tomorrow :)”

you didn't reply.

not because you were mad.

not because you didn’t care.

but because you were already too far gone.

you didn’t even realize when your hand had slipped past the waistband of your pajama shorts, fingers curling over the soaked cotton of your panties. his voice filled the room, low and deliberate, every word like silk dragged across your skin.

“yeah, baby... just like that,” he murmured into the mic, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping slowly as he stared directly at the camera. “you watching me? imagining i’m right there with you?”

you were.

god, you were.

your hips rolled forward into your palm, back arching slightly on your bed as your fingers pressed down harder through the thin barrier, dragging slow, aching circles against your clit. the heat in your belly coiled tighter with every breathy groan that left his lips.

taehyun licked his bottom lip, his thumb swiping over his leaking tip before he gave himself another slow stroke, veins visible along the shaft, his muscles taut and gleaming under the soft amber light.

“i bet you’re soaked for me,” he whispered, voice husky, eyes half-lidded but focused, like he could somehow see you. “you gonna come with me, baby? wanna be good for me tonight?”

you whimpered, pulling your panties to the side with trembling fingers, finally letting yourself touch bare skin. the contact made you gasp — your cunt was already dripping, so sensitive, so needy.

your middle finger dragged through your folds, collecting your slick as you stared at him through the screen, your breath catching as he tightened his grip and picked up his pace. the sound of skin meeting skin echoed from your laptop speakers, the obscene wetness of his hand matching your own now.

“fuck—” he hissed, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut as his chest rose and fell faster. “that’s it, baby. i’m gonna come for you. gonna make such a mess.”

your thighs trembled. your fingers worked in tighter circles, your other hand gripping the sheets beside you as you stared at the way his abs clenched, the way his cock twitched in his fist, the way his lips parted—

“come with me,” he moaned, body tensing. “come for me, now.”

and you did.

the orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, drawn tight and then snapped loose in an instant. your body shook, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as your fingers worked you through it, slick pooling between your thighs.

you barely heard his ragged groan as he came, spilling across his stomach in thick ropes, his hand slowing as he panted softly into the mic.

silence followed.

not on the screen—he was still there, wiping himself off with a practiced, almost lazy grace, murmuring goodnights to his viewers—but inside you. in the pit of your stomach.

you blinked, suddenly aware of your hand still resting between your legs, the mess on your fingers, the rapid beat of your heart.

and the guilt hit you like a fucking truck.

you had just made yourself come to your friend. to taehyun. to a stream he never told you about, to a version of him he kept hidden from you.

the shame crept in like frost, fast and biting. you closed the laptop slowly, almost reverently, like it might shatter under your touch. your fingers trembled as you reached for tissues, cleaning yourself with shaky hands. everything felt too quiet now. too intimate. too wrong.

what had you done?

you stared at the ceiling, chest heavy with the weight of your own betrayal. he was your friend. he had walked you home. bought you breakfast. knew your favorite café drink by heart.

and now… you had watched him come. had touched yourself to him. had let yourself enjoy it.

you didn’t even remember the moment you crossed that line.

but now, you couldn’t un-feel it. couldn’t untangle the want from the regret, the heat from the shame.

you reached for your phone with shaking fingers.

taehyun’s message still sat there, unopened.

“made it home safe? i owe you coffee tomorrow :)”

your stomach twisted. you couldn’t reply.

not yet.

not with your thighs still sticky, your skin still flushed, your heart still pounding from a version of him you were never supposed to see.

the days that followed were soaked in silence and something heavier you couldn’t name.

on the surface, everything looked the same. you and taehyun still shared glances during lectures, passed notes when the professor turned his back, walked the same familiar path across campus between classes. but you weren’t the same. and he felt it.

every time he stood too close, your body stiffened. when he brushed your arm with his sleeve, you flinched. you avoided his eyes like they burned, like seeing the truth in them would undo you all over again. and the worst part — the absolute worst part — was that he noticed.

you were both standing in line at the campus café when he finally said it, quiet but direct.

“are you mad at me?”

you blinked, startled, forcing a quick shake of your head. “no. why would i be?”

his brows drew together, lips pressing into a thin, unsure line. “is it because i didn’t come pick you up that night?”

“what? no,” you said too quickly, too sharp.

his eyes stayed on yours for a moment longer, like he was searching for something. but whatever he found didn’t satisfy him. still, he dropped it. “okay,” he mumbled. “just… wanted to make sure.”

that was the end of it. or so you thought.

later that week, your literature professor assigned a paired research project. no surprises when your name was called next to his — everyone knew you worked best together. taehyun leaned over and whispered, “your place or mine?”

you hesitated. “yours is fine. i don’t work tonight, so…”

his lips curled up in a small smile, but it faded when you added, almost too casually, “i’ll head out before nine, though. wouldn’t want to mess with your work schedule.”

his head tilted slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face. “you’ve never said anything about my job before.”

you swallowed hard. “right. well. figured i should.”

he didn’t reply. he just nodded and shoved his notebook into his bag.

you walked to his dorm together in the golden hour light, and even though your hands didn’t brush once, the space between you still felt too narrow.

once inside, everything hit you at once.

the framed prints. the guitar stand. the pale gray walls. the soft lamp in the corner, the way his bed curved slightly against the edge of the room — it was all exactly as you’d seen it. not in person. but on screen.

it had always been real.

taehyun didn’t seem to notice your gaze lingering on everything for too long. he set up on the floor like always, opening his laptop and inviting you to sit across from him. the research began easily enough — literary movements, source material, split tabs and shared documents — but your mind was somewhere else. your answers were delayed, your notes half-formed. and he noticed that too.

by the time the clock neared 9 p.m., you shut your notebook a little too quickly. “i should go,” you said, already gathering your things. “you’ve got work, right?”

taehyun looked at you, something close to hurt in his eyes. “you’ve asked about my job twice today. what’s going on?”

you shook your head. “nothing.”

“you’ve been acting weird all week.”

“i haven’t.”

“you won’t look at me.”

you laughed nervously, a sound too thin and brittle. “don’t be dramatic.”

“you flinched when i touched your arm earlier.”

“taehyun, it’s late—”

“did i do something wrong?”

your breath caught in your throat. his voice wasn’t angry. it was soft. wounded.

you couldn’t speak.

“i’ll walk you back,” he offered quietly, already reaching for his jacket.

“it’s fine,” you said, backing toward the door. “really. stay. you’ve got… work.”

and before he could stop you, you turned and rushed out, your heart hammering loud in your ears.

you didn’t stop until you reached your dorm, your legs shaky, your thoughts spinning out of control. you closed the door behind you, dropped your bag, leaned back against the wood like it might hold you up.

you’d been so strange. cold. avoidant. and for what?

your phone buzzed as you slid onto your bed, the screen lighting up with his name.

taehyun [9:27 p.m.] “did i do something that upset you? :( please tell me. i don’t understand why you’ve been like this lately.”

guilt swallowed you whole.

he hadn’t deserved that. none of it. he was your friend. he’d been nothing but gentle and patient and concerned — and you’d punished him with silence.

you reached for your laptop without thinking, desperate for anything to distract you.

your browser auto-filled the address before you even finished typing. your breath caught.

the camboy site.

you hadn’t meant to return. you really hadn’t.

but then — a notification flashed at the top of the page.

kth02 is live now.

you clicked before you could stop yourself. your heart trembled in your chest, and then the screen filled with him.

taehyun.

he was sitting comfortably, a dark hoodie zipped halfway down, only the line of his throat visible. he wore snug black workout shorts that hugged his thighs, legs spread casually. he looked… tired.

he looked sad.

he greeted his chat with a soft smile, eyes not quite meeting the lens. “hey,” he said, voice hoarse. “i wasn’t sure i’d stream tonight. but… i figured it’d help take my mind off some things.”

the comments poured in fast — hearts, greetings, compliments.

someone asked why he sounded off.

he chuckled lowly, rubbing a hand along his neck. “just a friend acting kind of weird lately. feels like they’re avoiding me. not sure why.”

your heart jumped into your throat.

he was talking about you.

the chat exploded — some people called her (you) a bitch, others offered themselves in your place, asking for attention with pouty emojis and flirty comments. one said, “she doesn’t deserve you, babe. punish us instead 😘.”

taehyun smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“maybe you’re right,” he murmured, hand slipping down over his thigh. “but… she’s really sweet. and smart. and… i don’t know. i like her. a lot.”

your lungs stopped working.

he adjusted the camera slightly, enough to show his stomach and thighs, still keeping his hoodie on.

his palm pressed against his cock through the shorts, slow and teasing. “i shouldn’t say this,” he whispered, voice slipping into that low, honeyed tone that always made you ache, “but this one’s for her. even if she doesn’t know it.”

your panties stuck to you instantly, wet and hot and clinging.

“she has no idea how beautiful she is,” he continued, rubbing himself slowly. “always biting her lip when she concentrates, always brushing her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous. i notice everything.”

you were frozen, breath shallow, hand already pressing between your thighs.

“this is for her,” he groaned, fingers slipping under the waistband to pull his cock free — thick and flushed and twitching in his grip. “she doesn’t know it, but every time i stream… i think about her.”

you whimpered softly, dragging your fingers over your clothed pussy, feeling the slick gather with every word he said.

taehyun spit into his hand, spreading it over his length as he pumped faster, moaning quietly. “she’s driving me fucking insane,” he growled. “so sweet. so soft. she doesn’t know how badly i want her. how many times i’ve thought about her on this bed.”

you couldn’t tear your eyes away. the guilt? it was still there — but melting. burning away under the fire of want.

he was touching himself for you.

he wanted you.

that made it okay… right?

you shifted on your bed, sliding your panties down and letting your fingers glide through the mess he’d made you.

“you don’t even know,” he groaned, back arching. “this is for you. every stroke. every fucking drop.”

you moaned softly, matching his rhythm, legs trembling as your orgasm built hard and fast in your gut. “taehyun,” you whispered into the empty room, breathless.

on screen, he gasped your name — not loud, not clearly, but unmistakably. the way he’d said it a hundred times before. just not like this.

and it pushed you over the edge.

you came with a cry, back arching, toes curling, fingers soaked with your release.

he followed seconds later, spilling across his stomach with a guttural moan, hips jerking, voice shaking with pleasure.

you stared at the screen, chest rising and falling, heart pounding in your throat.

you weren’t guilty anymore.

you were even.

and now… you wanted more.

the next few days passed in a blur of unfinished sentences and lingering glances. the strange discomfort you’d felt around taehyun had started to fade, but in its place came something more dangerous — tension. thick and slow like honey, clinging to everything you did. neither of you acknowledged it, not with words, not even with accidental touches, but it hung in the air between you like something waiting to be set on fire.

you’d agreed to meet again to finish the research project, this time with the intention of wrapping it up for good. it was late afternoon when you arrived at his dorm. the sky outside had already started shifting into shades of deep gold and fading blue, the light catching on the frames above his bed, painting the room in soft, dusky warmth. he greeted you with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. you smiled back, heart thudding too fast.

you worked side by side in silence, your laptops open between you, bodies angled slightly apart but never too far. his arm brushed yours once, and you didn’t pull away. he didn’t apologize. the energy between you simmered just beneath the surface — not awkward anymore, not exactly — but charged, as if both of you were pretending not to think about the same exact thing.

an hour passed, maybe more, before you stood and stretched with a soft groan, brushing your hair out of your face. “gonna use the bathroom,” you mumbled, already stepping away. “should we add one more source for the last paragraph, or leave it as it is?”

taehyun didn’t answer.

you didn’t notice at first. you were already down the hall, distracted with your thoughts, cheeks flushed from the way his eyes had been on your lips minutes earlier. but back in his dorm, taehyun sat frozen, staring at your screen like it had just betrayed him.

your laptop was still open, your notifications still on.

and there it was.

a small, perfectly timed alert had bloomed in the lower right corner of your screen like a bullet wound — unmistakable, cold, precise:

“don’t miss tonight’s stream — kth02 is going live at 10 p.m.”

taehyun’s blood turned to ice.

his breath left him in a single, sharp exhale as he stared at it, unmoving, every nerve in his body locking into place. even after the notification disappeared, the ghost of it lingered. burned into his retinas. into his chest. you had been watching him. you knew.

when you returned, still toweling off your hands and talking like nothing had happened, the last thing you expected was the way his eyes met yours. he wasn’t smiling anymore. his phone was forgotten, resting face-down on the bed. his gaze was hard, dark, unreadable — a silent storm gathering force.

“did something happen?” you asked, voice small, hesitant.

his eyes didn’t leave yours. his jaw flexed once, then again. and then he said it.

“have you been watching my streams?”

you stopped breathing.

the words hit you like a slap, like a spotlight you didn’t know you’d stepped into. your throat closed up. your entire body went cold, then hot, then cold again. blood rushed to your face all at once.

“i… i can explain,” you whispered, voice barely audible, shame thick in your chest like tar.

taehyun stood slowly, deliberately, his movements quiet and unhurried as he walked toward you. your heart pounded harder with each step he took, and you took one back without thinking. he kept coming. he didn’t raise his voice, didn’t look furious — but his eyes burned. sharp. hungry.

“you watched me,” he said again, voice low now. rougher. “you’ve been watching me.”

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t move. his presence was too close, too warm. your lips parted as if to defend yourself, to deny it, to run, but instead — you stayed.

his hand reached out, fingers brushing your jaw, tilting your face up toward his.

“you didn’t need to do that,” he murmured, voice silk and steel all at once. “if you wanted to see my cock… i would’ve shown you.”

your breath caught, a small, involuntary sound leaving your lips.

taehyun kissed you.

not gently. not questioningly.

his mouth crashed into yours with the force of weeks — maybe months — of hidden hunger. his hands found your hips, pulling you into him like he couldn’t stand the space that had been there before. your fingers curled into his shirt, clinging, gasping against his lips as his tongue slid past yours, hot and slick and possessive. you moaned into the kiss, shame and tension melting away into something far more dangerous.

he broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against your mouth, “you want to see it now, don’t you?”

you whimpered, nodding helplessly, and that was all the answer he needed.

he pushed you gently, but firmly, toward the bed, until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you tumbled back with a soft gasp. he climbed over you, eyes scanning your body like he wanted to memorize every inch, and when his fingers brushed the hem of your shirt and lifted it — he stopped.

his eyes widened slightly.

you were wearing matching lingerie. deep wine red lace. delicate straps and silk bows.

he let out a low, dangerous sound in his throat.

“fuck,” he muttered, dragging his palm along your thigh, over your waist, slow and reverent. “you wore this for me?”

you didn’t answer, but the blush on your cheeks said everything.

“you planned this,” he growled, kissing down your neck, fingers sliding the straps of your bra off your shoulders. “you watched me, got wet for me, and now you’re here, dressed like a fucking fantasy.”

his hands roamed your body, cupping your breasts, dragging his thumbs over your nipples through the lace, until you arched into him with a breathy moan. you were trembling — not from fear, but anticipation.

“i want to fuck you,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, “but not just for me.”

your breath hitched. “what…?”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing your lip. “i want them to see. i want everyone who watched me jerk off to know you’re mine.”

your eyes widened, but your thighs pressed together.

he smirked, knowing exactly what that meant.

“let me show them,” he said. “let me show them how good you take it. how pretty you sound when you moan.”

his hand slid down your body again, fingers slipping under your panties, dragging through your slick folds.

“they’ll never touch you. never hear you the way i will. but they’ll know. they’ll see what they can’t have.”

you whimpered, your hips bucking into his hand.

“please,” you whispered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore.

he kissed your neck, trailing down toward your chest, mouthing at the lace before looking up at you again. “say yes,” he said. “say yes, and i’ll turn the camera on. just for them to watch. just for us to enjoy.”

his fingers were inside you now, slow but firm, curling perfectly against your walls.

you moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

and then you nodded.

“yes,” you breathed. “yes, taehyun.”

you barely registered him grabbing his laptop, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he placed it on the desk at the edge of the bed, angling the webcam down toward the mattress where you lay — flushed, breathless, your bra halfway off, your panties damp and already tugged down to mid-thigh.

“you’re sure?” he asked, one last time, his voice deep and reverent as he loomed over you. “once i turn this on, they’re gonna see you. hear you. know exactly who’s making me come from now on.”

you nodded, eyes half-lidded with lust, legs spreading wider in invitation.

“fucking perfect,” he muttered, switching on the stream.

the chat lit up almost instantly.

he hadn’t even said a word yet, and people were already flooding in. hearts. usernames. emojis. thirsty little greetings. taehyun smirked as the viewers climbed, way higher than usual.

he turned back to you, crawling over your body and placing a hot kiss just under your jaw. “they’ve been waiting for me,” he murmured, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and dragging them all the way down your legs. “but they’ve really been waiting for you.”

you whimpered when he settled between your thighs, spreading them with both hands like he was presenting you to the camera. your pussy glistened in the low lighting, folds soaked and swollen, thighs trembling slightly with need. taehyun didn’t touch you yet — he just stared, dragging his tongue slowly over his bottom lip.

“you see this, chat?” he said finally, voice shifting into his streaming tone — low, hypnotic, dirty. “remember the girl i told you about the other night? the one avoiding me. the one who had no idea i jerked off thinking about her every single time i turned this camera on?”

his hand moved down, thumb gliding through your slit with a wet noise that made both of you inhale sharply.

“she knows now.”

his middle and ring fingers pressed into you without warning, curling deep on the first thrust. you moaned — loud and raw — your back arching off the bed.

the chat exploded.

he laughed darkly, leaning in to kiss your mouth hard as his fingers pumped in and out of you, obscene and fast, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room.

“you hear that?” he said, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort in pleasure. “that’s her pussy. soaked for me. because she likes this. she likes being watched.”

you nodded desperately, tears prickling the corners of your eyes from how fast your orgasm was already building. his fingers knew exactly where to press — his thumb finding your clit with perfect rhythm, rubbing tight circles as you sobbed his name.

he turned your face toward the camera, gently but firmly, holding your jaw. “look at them, baby,” he whispered. “let them see how fucking pretty you are when you come.”

you did — lips parted, eyes glassy, body trembling.

“taehyun—fuck, i’m—”

“come on my fingers, princess,” he growled. “do it. show them who you belong to.”

you shattered.

your thighs clamped around his wrist, your body jerking, crying out shamelessly as you came hard — gushing around his fingers, soaking his palm, your moans loud and raw and unfiltered.

the comments went wild.

“holy shit.” “i’m never recovering from this.” “marry her.” “he’s so fucking lucky.”

taehyun kissed you through it, moaning into your mouth, fingers still fucking you until you were shaking and whining from overstimulation.

and he wasn’t even close to done.

he pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it somewhere across the room before shoving his joggers down his hips. his cock sprang free — flushed, thick, heavy — and you moaned at the sight of it, thighs instinctively falling open again.

he grinned, pumping it slowly, letting the camera see the way it dripped with precum. “you want this now, don’t you?” he murmured. “want me to fuck you right here, in front of all of them?”

“yes,” you breathed. “please, taehyun—i need it.”

he grabbed a pillow and shoved it under your hips, tilting you up just right before lining himself up and thrusting in — hard.

you gasped, fingers clawing at the sheets, back arching as he filled you to the hilt.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, head falling forward. “you’re so fucking tight. made for me.”

he snapped his hips forward again, and again, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud and sinful in the room. he was rough, relentless, fucking you like he wanted to ruin you for anyone else — deep, punishing thrusts that made you cry out, barely coherent.

he flipped you over without warning, yanking your hips up until you were on your knees, face pressed into the mattress. he spread your ass with both hands, fucking back into you so hard your knees slipped on the sheets.

“look at her,” he hissed, staring directly into the camera now. “this pussy’s mine. mine.”

you moaned so loud, you knew the whole dorm floor could probably hear.

and still — you wanted more.

he reached around, fingers finding your clit again as he slammed into you from behind, deeper than before. “gonna make you come again. right here. want all of them to see what a messy little slut you are for me.”

“yes—fuck, yes—taehyun—”

you came harder the second time, screaming his name into the sheets, body trembling uncontrollably as he fucked you through it.

taehyun groaned behind you, close now, his rhythm faltering.

he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back again and straddling your chest. his cock slapped against your tits, slick and twitching.

“open your mouth,” he ordered, and you obeyed instantly, tongue out, eyes wide.

he fucked your mouth with short, desperate thrusts, his hands gripping your hair, voice breaking. “shit—fuck—i’m gonna come—baby, take it—”

and he did.

thick ropes of cum spilled over your tongue, your lips, your chin. he groaned deep in his chest, holding your head still as he emptied himself all over your face, his eyes wild and locked on the lens.

“this is what she does to me,” he whispered to the chat. “every. fucking. time.”

you swallowed, licking your lips slowly, gazing up at him through tear-filled eyes, completely wrecked.

the chat lost their minds.

“best stream of my life.” “i’m on my knees.” “someone call 911 i’ve died.”

taehyun leaned in, kissed your forehead softly, and ended the stream with one final smirk.

“mine,” he whispered against your skin.

taehyun hovered over the trackpad for a second longer, breath still heavy, a smug smile playing at the corners of his swollen lips. his chest was flushed and glistening, the sweat on his toned body catching the soft light. you were sprawled beneath him, covered in his cum, your lips parted, cheeks pink, pupils blown wide. completely fucked out.

he looked into the webcam, tilting his head slightly, and said with a grin, “we’re gonna end it here tonight, guys. thanks for being such good voyeurs.”

the chat exploded with whining, hearts, and desperate pleads for more. 

“already?!”  “she’s perfect.”  “you better marry her.”  “tae PLEASE don’t log off.”

but he just winked, lazily reached for the laptop, and clicked end stream.

the screen went black.

a silence settled over the room, broken only by your shared panting. the moment felt suspended — like glass right before the shatter.

then, slowly, taehyun reached for you. he dragged his thumb gently across your chin, collecting some of the mess he’d made and bringing it to your lips. “open,” he murmured, and you did without thinking. your tongue darted out, tasting him. his eyes darkened again for a moment.

but instead of taking it further, he leaned in and kissed you — soft this time. slower. no camera. no audience. just the warmth of his lips against yours and the faint taste of salt and sweetness shared between you.

“come on,” he whispered. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

he scooped you up in his arms, ignoring your squeak of surprise, and carried you to the bathroom. he set you down gently on the cool tile, then turned on the shower. steam began to rise almost instantly, fogging the mirror and curling around your bodies.

taehyun stepped in first and held a hand out to you. “get in, baby,” he said softly, his voice no longer performative — just yours.

you followed him, letting the hot water wash over you as he pulled you under the stream with him, arms wrapping around your waist. your skin pressed against his, slick and sensitive, and for a moment you just stood there like that, heads resting on each other’s shoulders, letting the rush of the water melt the tension from your limbs.

but then his hands slid lower.

slow, deliberate.

they cupped your ass and squeezed gently, dragging your body tighter against his. his cock was hard again, thick and heavy against your stomach, already twitching from the feel of your wet skin.

you looked up at him, wet hair clinging to your face, and he leaned in to kiss you — this time open-mouthed, heated. his tongue curled against yours, one hand cupping the back of your head, the other sliding down to your inner thigh.

you gasped into his mouth as his fingers slid between your legs again, finding you still soaked — not just from the water. “fuck, baby,” he whispered against your lips, “you’re still so fucking wet for me.”

you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, grinding against his palm as his fingers teased your slit.

“you like that, huh?” he growled. “you like being my little showgirl? letting everyone watch you come for me?”

you nodded, unable to speak, hips moving on their own.

“you’re so fucking dirty,” he said, voice thick with lust, fingers slipping inside you. “you want me to fuck you in the shower now, too? hmm?”

“yes—taehyun—please,” you gasped, clinging to him.

he kissed you again, biting your lower lip as he pushed you back against the wall. the cold tile made you shiver, but the heat of his mouth on your neck, his fingers pumping into you with delicious precision, more than made up for it.

“i should make you scream for me again,” he muttered, curling his fingers just right. “right here, where no one else gets to hear you but me.”

“please,” you whimpered, “i want your cock again—need it, tae.”

he groaned low in his chest, grabbing your leg and hooking it around his waist as he lined up, his tip rubbing along your entrance. “you begging for it, baby? say it. tell me how bad you want me.”

“i want you to fuck me,” you breathed, eyes wide, body trembling. “please, i want your cock. i want it inside me.”

taehyun grinned like a devil and slid in all at once — a deep, rough thrust that had your mouth falling open in a silent cry. your back hit the tile hard, and you wrapped both arms around his shoulders, fingers digging into his skin.

he started moving, slow but deep, each thrust rocking your body into the wall, water pouring down both of you. he was grunting against your skin, his hands tight on your hips.

“you feel that?” he whispered, biting your ear gently. “feel how deep i am, baby?”

you nodded, voice a mess of moans and gasps.

“no one’s ever fucked you like this, huh?” he panted, speeding up, fucking into you harder now. “nobody else’s cock fills you like mine.”

“never,” you cried, tears springing to your eyes, “only you, tae—only ever you.”

“that’s right,” he groaned, grabbing your other leg and lifting you off the ground completely. you clung to him, thighs locked around his waist, his cock hitting deep with every thrust now.

the sound of his hips slapping against you echoed off the walls, water splashing over your shoulders as you cried out for him.

“gonna come again?” he asked, forehead pressed to yours, breath hot.

“yes—yes, fuck, don’t stop—”

he angled his hips just right, grinding into your sweet spot with brutal rhythm, and you shattered again — nails dragging down his back, head thrown back, voice cracked with pleasure.

taehyun fucked you through it, chasing his own high, groaning into your neck. “fuck, baby—gonna fill you up again. want you dripping for me.”

he came with a long, broken moan, cock pulsing inside you, warmth spilling deep as his hips stuttered and slowed.

you stayed like that for a moment, trembling in his arms, water still pouring over you.

“goddamn,” he muttered, brushing wet hair from your face. “you’re fucking perfect.”

he helped you stand again, your legs barely working, and cleaned you gently under the stream — washing your thighs, kissing your belly, cradling your face like you were something precious.

“stay here tonight,” he said.

you nodded, dazed, and let him lead you back to his bed.

he dressed you in one of his oversized shirts — it swallowed you whole — and pulled you into bed with him, the sheets still warm, his body even warmer. he tucked your head under his chin, your leg thrown over his hip, one hand stroking lazy circles into your thigh.

it was quiet for a while.

then he whispered, almost shyly, “i like you.”

you blinked.

pulled back just enough to look at him.

“you what?”

he rolled his eyes, smiling, but there was a nervous edge to it. “don’t make me repeat it.”

“taehyun…”

“i like you,” he said again, firmer this time. “have for a long time.”

you stared, heart fluttering in your chest, lips parted.

he laughed softly at your expression. “you seriously didn’t notice?”

you shook your head, breath catching in your throat. “i thought… i don’t know. i thought you were just—”

“just what?”

“just being a good friend,” you whispered.

he exhaled, pulling you closer, kissing your temple.

“baby,” he murmured, “friends don’t jerk off on livestreams thinking about each other.”

you laughed, burying your face in his neck, heart swelling.

and when you fell asleep in his arms that night, it wasn’t guilt or shame or secrecy that lingered.

and yet, in all those encounters, he never truly looked at you. not in the way a man looks at a woman he wants. you were background noise to him. a silhouette in silk. polite smiles, brief nods, nothing more.

until the contract was signed.

it was a merger more than a marriage — a binding of legacies, not hearts. your father said it was an honor. your mother cried while helping you into your wedding dress, whispering how lucky you were to marry someone with such influence, such presence. you didn't feel lucky.

your gown was custom-made, flown in from paris. long-sleeved and ivory, with delicate lace crawling up your collarbones, and a train so long it took three women to carry it down the aisle. you looked like a dream — regal, immaculate, almost untouchable. even your makeup was soft and flawless, like you were born to be admired from a distance.

when you reached the altar, taehyun was already waiting. his eyes swept over you with the indifference of a man examining a sculpture in a gallery — beautiful, yes. admirable, even. but not his. not something he reached for. he looked expensive in his suit. tall, composed, painfully handsome. but there was no joy on his face. no warmth in the way he took your hand.

when he took your hand, it was because the priest told him to.

his palm was cold. steady. his grip was neither too firm nor too soft. you imagined it was the same way he signed business contracts, with precision and detachment.

you told yourself you didn’t need warmth. this wasn’t about love. it never was.

and yet it hurt, in some small, stupid way.

he kissed your cheek when the priest told him to. his lips brushed your skin, and you felt nothing. not butterflies, not electricity. just the cold, aching confirmation of what you already knew: taehyun didn’t love you. and he didn’t want to.

the wedding made headlines. a spectacle of elegance and power. articles praised the "fairytale union" and posted blurry photos of taehyun helping you into the car, his hand on your back like a gentleman. what they didn’t know was that by the time you arrived at the private estate where you’d live together, he was already walking ahead of you, phone in hand, voice low and disinterested.

“you’ll have the west wing,” he said. “second floor. we won’t share a room — i assume that’s fine”

you nodded. your veil was still pinned in your hair, your earrings heavy on your ears.

he didn’t say goodnight. he didn’t ask how you felt. he simply turned and disappeared into his study, closing the door behind him with finality.

his room was on the opposite side of the house.

you didn’t see much of each other after that. in the mornings, you passed him in the dining room — his sleeves rolled up, eyes glued to his laptop as he sipped black coffee. sometimes he nodded at you. sometimes he didn’t.

when he spoke, it was brief. emotionless. professional.

"you’ll need to be at the choi event next week."

"wear something navy. it matches the branding."

"your lipstick was smudged last time. be more careful."

not cruel. not kind. just cold.

still, you played your part. at every family function, every business dinner, you laced your arm around his like the doting wife you were supposed to be. taehyun would place his hand on your lower back, lean in close enough to whisper scripted compliments in your ear, and smile when cameras flashed. you looked like a couple in love — poised, elegant, connected.

but at night, you would close the door to your room and cry silently into a pillow that smelled like perfume and loneliness.

he never asked if you were happy. you never offered to lie.

you had been married to kang taehyun for a year.

twelve months of empty rooms and empty words. of silent mornings, separate beds, and dinner parties where you pretended to love a man who barely remembered how to say your name without flattening it.

your marriage was the kind that looked good in photographs. carefully curated images of a successful union — him in tailored suits, you in designer gowns. your hands always touching, your eyes always soft. a perfect illusion.

but once the flashbulbs faded and the doors closed, so did the performance.

you lived in a mansion, but it never felt like a home. it was quiet in a way that echoed. too many walls, too many shadows. your bedroom was at the far end of the hall, separated by sleek marble floors and silence. taehyun’s was opposite yours, and he never crossed that threshold. not even once.

some nights, you stood by the door and waited. hoping. other nights, you stopped hoping altogether.

he wasn't cruel — not in the way that left bruises or sharp words. his coldness was quieter than that. it was in the way he never asked if you were okay. in the way he answered you with sighs instead of sentences. in how he looked past you at breakfast, eyes on his phone, fingers tapping away at stock reports and news articles, as if you were part of the background — as if your presence was nothing more than ambient noise.

“you need to be ready by seven,” he’d say without looking up.

“don’t wear white. it clashes with the decor.”

and you would nod. always nod. because what else was there to do?

you played the part. you smiled when your in-laws visited. you stood beside him at every event with your hand wrapped gently around his arm, your voice sweet, your gaze rehearsed. when his hand slid onto the small of your back for the cameras, you leaned into the touch as if it belonged there.

but the second you were alone, the warmth disappeared.

you would walk down opposite corridors, into opposite beds, and try to fall asleep beside the ache of being unwanted.

you never asked him why. never begged for attention or tenderness. you had learned, from a very young age, that feelings were fragile, disposable things — and that love had no place in contracts.

your marriage was not a love story. it was a transaction sealed with gold and paper, a deal between two families who saw you as an extension of their legacy. you were beautiful, accomplished, poised — a perfect bride. and taehyun was a perfect son. loyal, brilliant, emotionally vacant. the kind of man who could run an empire and feel nothing when he held your hand.

and you —

you were so good at pretending that it almost felt real sometimes.

until you saw lee heesung again.

the invitation arrived embossed in gold — another affair hosted by the choi family, all shimmer and status. you wore emerald silk that night, low-backed and elegant, with your hair twisted up and pinned with mother-of-pearl. taehyun wore black, as always, his presence severe and pristine beside you.

he didn’t compliment your dress.

you didn’t expect him to.

the ballroom was all crystal and candlelight. strings played softly beneath the murmur of conversation, and champagne flutes clinked like bells. you smiled when expected, danced twice with taehyun in front of curious eyes, then slipped away toward the edge of the room for air.

and that’s when you heard it.

“y/n?”

you turned at the sound of your name — tentative, soft, almost disbelieving.

he was standing near the edge of the terrace, champagne glass forgotten in his hand, dressed in a dark suit that clung to his frame more confidently than it had when you last saw him. his face was older now — sharper jaw, deeper eyes — but the smile… the smile was exactly the same.

“heesung?” your voice was breathless. like it didn’t belong to you.

he stepped forward slowly, as if afraid you might vanish if he moved too quickly. “i almost didn’t recognize you. you—” he laughed under his breath, eyes roaming your face with a mix of awe and disbelief. “you’ve grown up.”

you blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “so did you.”

it had been ten years. ten whole years since he left — packed off to europe for school, his family’s goodbye rushed and quiet. you had cried for two nights straight, then spent years pretending you hadn’t. and now here he was, in the middle of a gala, as if nothing had changed.

except everything had.

you were married now. in name, at least.

but still, when he smiled at you — wide and warm and genuine — something fluttered in your chest you hadn’t felt in years.

“you look incredible,” he said, eyes dancing. “i mean, not just the dress. you— i don’t know, you shine. always did.”

you lowered your gaze, cheeks warm. “you’re still a flatterer.”

“only when it’s true.”

you heard footsteps behind you before you could reply.

“taehyun,” you said quickly, straightening. “this is… lee heesung. an old friend.”

taehyun’s eyes moved from you to heesung in a single sweep. his face didn’t change, but something in his posture did — his jaw just a bit tighter, his stare a little too direct.

“taehyun,” heesung offered his hand, unbothered. “pleasure to meet you. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

taehyun shook his hand. short. firm. “have you?”

“well,” heesung chuckled, glancing at you, “maybe not a lot. but enough.”

you felt taehyun’s hand settle on your lower back — a gentle but deliberate touch, the kind he only ever used in public. you could feel the tension in his fingers, though. not affection. not comfort. something else.

you smiled politely, masking the strange electricity crackling between them. “heesung was my neighbor growing up. we were… close.”

“very close,” heesung added, too casually.

taehyun said nothing. but his hand lingered longer than usual.

his tone was pleasant. perfectly civil. but his fingers pressed slightly harder against your waist, and when you looked up at him, his jaw was clenched just enough to betray it.

and for the first time in a year of cold silences and empty gazes, kang taehyun looked... bothered.

you met heesung again three days later. this time, alone.

you told yourself it was just a reunion. a friendly catch-up. nothing more.

but he made you laugh in ways you hadn’t in years. he remembered everything — the way you used to hate thunderstorms, the songs you’d sing under your breath, the stupid nickname he gave you for always carrying too many books. he looked at you like you mattered. like you were more than a name in someone else’s contract.

you didn’t tell taehyun. and he didn’t ask.

you met again the next week. and the one after that. coffee turned to lunch, lunch turned to long walks through hidden parts of the city, where no one knew your last name. you smiled wider. your skin glowed. you started wearing the perfume you liked, not the one his mother approved. you began laughing out loud, not just behind a polite hand. and people noticed.

especially him.

the first time taehyun said something, you had just come back from lunch. your hair was windswept. your phone buzzed with a new message from heesung: i miss talking to you already.

taehyun was standing in the kitchen, sipping wine like always. he looked at you for a long moment before saying, “you’re seeing him again.”

you froze. “he’s my friend.”

his stare didn’t waver. “and i’m your husband.”

the silence was suffocating. you didn’t reply. you didn’t need to.

“don’t be careless,” he added after a pause. “people notice.”

but you couldn’t stop. because every time heesung smiled at you, you remembered what it felt like to be loved — or at least wanted. and every time taehyun’s eyes darkened across the room, you felt something crack open between you, something ugly and raw and dangerous.

and it was only a matter of time before it spilled.

you weren’t supposed to see heesung again.

you told yourself that the moment you stepped out of the café that night — that it was enough. enough catching up, enough smiling too much, enough letting your heart remember what it felt like to be looked at like you were something bright. but the next day, he texted. just a simple “remember the old bookstore by the river?” and without thinking, you replied. you remembered everything.

you met there the following sunday. it was quiet, tucked away behind overgrown ivy and the whisper of autumn wind. the inside still smelled like sun-warmed paper, and heesung still laughed like you were the most interesting story on the shelf. you wandered between aisles, letting your fingers trail along spines, and for a little while, it felt like you’d slipped through time — like nothing had changed. like you weren’t twenty-five and married. like your last name wasn’t kang.

he took you to lunch after, somewhere casual, small, a place you never would’ve stepped into with taehyun. there were no cameras, no eyes, no pressure to sit up straighter or speak more delicately. you ate slowly, letting the warmth of soup melt the cold that had crept into your bones over the last year. heesung talked about his travels, the people he met, the music he was trying to write. and when he asked about you, really asked — what do you like now? what makes you happy? — your throat felt tight.

you didn’t know how to answer. not honestly.

later, walking by the riverbank, you laughed when he called you “bookworm” again. you shoved his shoulder lightly and he caught your hand — fingers threading through yours like it was still summer and you were still fifteen.

and just for a moment, it was too easy to pretend.

but as the warmth of his skin soaked into yours, your stomach twisted. not with guilt, not yet. something more dangerous — doubt. was this what you were missing?

“heesung,” you said softly, eyes still on the water. “do you ever think we were supposed to be something?”

he was quiet for a beat. then, “i thought about you more than i should have.”

your heart thudded — but it wasn’t joy. it was grief.

you pulled your hand back gently, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. “i used to think that too,” you whispered. “but that version of me… the one who wrote your name in the margins of her notebooks and cried when you left… she doesn’t exist anymore.”

he didn’t argue. he just nodded, like he understood.

you parted ways with a hug. longer than necessary, but not intimate. not improper. just... sad.

and when you stepped into the house that night, the silence hit harder than ever. no message from taehyun. no note. no light left on. only the familiar echo of emptiness.

you wandered into the kitchen, fingers still cold. you didn’t expect to see him standing by the window.

he turned, startled for a split second — rare for him — before composing himself.

“you’re late.”

“i went out,” you answered, setting your purse down. “with a friend.”

he didn’t respond. just stared at you like he was searching for something beneath your skin.

you avoided his gaze. “do you want tea?”

“no.”

you nodded, stepping past him. the silence stretched, heavy and full of things unsaid.

“you look different,” he said quietly.

you froze. “different how?”

he hesitated. “lighter.”

you didn’t know what to say. so you didn’t say anything at all.

when you finally made it to your bedroom, you sat on the edge of your bed, breath shallow. you thought about heesung’s smile, the sound of his laugh, the way he made you feel like your teenage self again — untouched by the cold calculations of your family, unburdened by the weight of your name. but you also thought of taehyun — the tension in his jaw tonight, the way his voice had shifted ever so slightly when he said you look different.

and that’s when you realized the truth.

you liked heesung, yes. you liked what he represented. freedom. comfort. the girl you used to be. but taehyun? he wasn’t the boy of your past — he was the man in your present. and despite his silence, his coldness, the way he looked right through you some days... you wanted him.

you wanted him to see you. want you. need you.

and that hurt more than anything.

because you were starting to realize... maybe you already loved him.

the room was all golden light and champagne — delicate strings of music trailing through crystal chandeliers, waiters gliding past with silver trays, women in gowns that shimmered like moonlight.

you stood near the center of it all, wrapped in a dress the color of soft wine. off-the-shoulder silk, cinched waist, a slit that whispered against your leg when you moved. your hair was swept to one side, exposing the slope of your neck. taehyun hadn’t said a word when he saw you leave your room, but his eyes had lingered. too long to be empty. too cold to be warm.

he escorted you, as always, arm linked with yours — not too tight, not too loose. he greeted the right people, nodded at the appropriate times, made you laugh when he needed to keep up appearances. you smiled when the cameras turned. you leaned into him when the board members looked.

but the minute your mutual obligation ended, he released your arm without a word and stepped off to speak with someone from the finance division.

you didn’t follow.

you wandered to the bar instead, thankful for the small reprieve, and that’s when you heard it — your name, light and warm like summer.

“you look like you stepped out of a painting,” heesung said, smiling, holding two glasses of rosé. “guess i’ll have to pretend i belong here.”

you smiled before you could stop yourself. “you look good in a suit.”

“don’t sound so surprised.”

you laughed, taking the glass he offered. his fingers brushed yours — brief, innocent — but still enough to make your heart stutter. you hated how easy it was to feel fifteen again. and you hated that you missed it.

“you didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“i didn’t know,” he shrugged, sipping slowly. “my manager’s friend works with the caterer. said he needed a last-minute hand. i said yes without thinking. figured it’d just be another fancy party where no one would remember my name.”

“you’re wrong,” you said softly.

his eyes flicked to yours. there was something in them — something unspoken. something that a married woman shouldn’t try to read too closely.

“are you here alone?” you asked.

he nodded. “unless you’re counting all the corporate execs who’ve asked me if i play piano.”

you laughed again, this time quieter. “you do.”

“not for them.”

heesung's voice was low, almost teasing. but there was a weight behind it — an ache, maybe, or just the memory of something never lived.

you didn’t notice the man watching you.

kang taehyun stood on the other side of the room, his glass untouched in his hand. he wasn’t smiling. wasn’t even pretending. his gaze was locked on you — on the way your lips curved when heesung leaned in to say something; on how your fingers played idly with the stem of your glass; on the tilt of your head, the brightness in your eyes.

he hadn’t seen you smile like that since before the wedding. maybe never.

he finished his drink in a single swallow.

when he approached, it was silent — sudden. you only noticed him when the air beside you shifted, cool and sharp. he placed a hand on the small of your back, a gesture you were both used to in public, but this time... his palm stayed. firm. possessive.

“everything alright?” his voice was smooth, but there was steel underneath.

you blinked. “yes. taehyun, this is—”

“lee heesung,” he cut in flatly, gaze unwavering. “we met.”

heesung offered a polite smile. “good to see you again.”

taehyun nodded, but didn’t return it.

“your wife was just telling me how beautiful the venue is,” heesung continued, tone light. “honestly, this place looks like something out of a dream.”

taehyun’s fingers pressed a little deeper into your back. “she has good taste.”

you froze for a second — not at the words, but the way he said them. not like a compliment. like a reminder.

the silence stretched.

“i should get back to the kitchen,” heesung said eventually, glancing at you. “don’t disappear too fast.”

you nodded. “i won’t.”

he walked away.

taehyun didn’t move his hand.

“you’re close,” he said, eyes still on the crowd.

“we’re old friends.”

“looked like more than that.”

you turned to him, brows drawing together. “why does it matter?”

he didn’t answer. his jaw tightened.

you exhaled slowly, pulling your arm from his and stepping half a pace away. “you don’t get to be jealous, taehyun.”

his eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unreadable. “who said i was?”

you didn’t reply.

neither did he.

but when you walked ahead, you felt it — the burn of his stare against your back. the heat in the silence.

the car ride home had been silent.

not the usual quiet — the polite, professional kind that hovered between you like a well-dressed wall. this one buzzed. like static. like heat trapped under skin. taehyun sat beside you, eyes fixed on the dark city flashing past the window, one leg crossed neatly over the other, jaw locked so tight you could hear it click when he swallowed.

you didn’t speak. neither did he.

not until the front door of your shared home closed behind you with a soft, final sound.

then his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“do you think it’s appropriate to smile like that in front of the board?”

you turned, slowly, heels clicking against the polished marble. “excuse me?”

“with lee heesung,” he said, dropping his watch onto the side table without looking at you. “you looked like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

you laughed, sharp and humorless. “so you were watching.”

he turned to you finally, his tie half loosened, shirt still perfectly tucked into tailored slacks. he looked angry — but not wild. not loud. just cold. tightly wound. exactly like you’d expect from a man who built walls instead of raising his voice.

“i didn’t have to watch,” he said. “the whole room saw it.”

“saw what? that i was happy for five minutes?”

his expression didn’t change. “you’re married.”

“are we?” your voice rose. not a shout — just enough to cut. “because from where i’m standing, it feels like we’re just two strangers with matching rings.”

he took a slow step forward.

you didn’t move.

“then don’t embarrass me,” he said, quieter now, like it hurt to say it. “not in front of people who matter.”

you stared at him — tall, beautiful, indifferent. you hated how good he looked like this. hated the way his presence still made your skin ache even when his words made you feel disposable.

“i’m sorry,” you said, stepping closer, voice trembling with restraint. “am i supposed to stay quiet and smile at your side like a fucking ornament while you pretend i’m not even there?”

“that was the agreement,” he said flatly.

you blinked.

taehyun flinched.

the silence after that was thick. awful.

you stepped back.

he didn’t stop you.

“you didn’t care before,” you whispered. “why now? why tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. he just looked at you — really looked, for maybe the first time in weeks. and it wasn’t the way he looked at you at galas, or dinners, or in family portraits. it wasn’t performative.

this time, it felt like he couldn’t look away.

“you were mine tonight,” he said finally. “and you forgot that.”

you stared at him.

you didn’t say anything.

but your hands shook a little as you reached up and unclasped your necklace, one jewel at a time. your earrings. your bracelets. everything expensive he’d helped you put on earlier that evening, now coming off piece by piece like armor being stripped away.

you didn’t cry. you didn’t yell. you just walked past him, brushing his shoulder as you left the room.

“don’t worry,” you said over your shoulder, voice like ice. “i’ll remember next time.”

his footsteps followed you down the hallway. unhurried. deliberate.

“you’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen,” he said, voice low, firm.

you paused at the edge of the bedroom. didn’t turn around.

“what do you want from me, taehyun?” your words were a whisper, sharp and tired. “you barely speak to me. you barely look at me. and then the second someone else does—”

“i’m not just someone else.”

“no,” you said bitterly. “you’re my husband. legally. contractually. nothing more.”

that did something to him. you could feel it — the tension shifting, thickening in the space between you like a storm waiting to snap.

his voice came closer. behind you now.

“do you think i haven’t noticed the way you look at me?”

you turned then. slowly. eyes burning.

“what way?”

his jaw clenched. “like you want something from me. like you want me to be someone i’m not.”

your breath caught. not because he was wrong. but because he wasn’t.

“and you,” you hissed, stepping forward now, chest brushing his. “you act like you don’t want me. like this marriage is just a formality. but the second someone else so much as smiles at me, you break.”

he said nothing.

his eyes dropped to your mouth.

then back up.

“tell me i’m wrong,” you demanded.

silence.

“taehyun.”

his hands moved before his mouth did — gripping your arms, not hard, but with purpose. pulling you closer until there was no space left to pretend with. his breath hit your cheek, fast and uneven.

“you’re not wrong,” he said finally.

and god, it burned.

because that was all you had wanted to hear — some crack in his mask, some proof that you weren’t crazy for feeling the pull between you. and now that you had it, it only made everything worse.

“then why do you treat me like this?” you asked, voice barely a breath. “why push me away every single time i try to reach you?”

“let's sleep together,”

the door slammed shut behind you, hard enough to rattle the frame. your heels clicked against the marble floors of your shared home—too loud, too sharp in the silence. you stormed through the living room, toward the master bedroom, your dress dragging behind you in a frustrated blur of expensive silk and lace.

you didn’t even look back.

“you’re not sleeping here tonight,” you said coldly, pushing open the bedroom door and stepping inside. “use one of the guest rooms. i don't care which one.”

taehyun followed you, of course. always the quiet shadow behind your anger, never raising his voice—but tonight was different. his jaw was tight, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. something was burning under his skin.

he stepped into the room before you could close the door on him. “the hell i’m not.”

you turned to him, chest heaving, tears stinging your eyes though you refused to let them fall. “don’t make a scene, taehyun. i’m not in the mood.”

“you think i give a fuck about your mood right now?” he bit back, stepping closer. “i watched you smile at him like that. laugh with him like that. and then you come home and tell me to sleep somewhere else?”

“we don’t even sleep together, taehyun!” you shouted, finally losing it. “we’ve been married for a year and you still treat me like some damn business contract! so why should you care who i talk to?”

he was in front of you in two long strides. too close.

“because you're mine.”

his voice was low. not yelling. not angry in the way you expected. but full of something darker—possessive, raw.

your breath caught.

“you don’t get to flirt with old friends like you’re single,” he said, crowding you backwards until your spine hit the wall. “you wear my ring. you sleep in my house. you're my fucking wife.”

“in name only,” you spat, but your voice trembled.

his eyes dropped to your lips.

“no,” he said, fingers brushing the edge of your jaw. “not anymore.”

and then he kissed you.

not soft. not slow. it was messy. angry. real.

a year of silence poured into that kiss — the frustration, the jealousy, the ache of sleeping in separate rooms while pretending to be a couple to the world. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t pretty. it was honest.

his mouth moved over yours like he was starving. like he hated himself for needing this. needing you.

your robe fell to the floor.

his hands were everywhere — your waist, your back, your thighs. he lifted you without effort, your legs wrapping around his hips as your back hit the nearest wall with a quiet thud. his mouth never left yours.

you gasped when his hands slipped under your silk nightdress. he groaned when he felt you bare and burning beneath it.

and when he whispered your name — hoarse, like a confession — you knew this wasn’t about duty anymore.

this was need. raw, dangerous, undeniable.

this was taehyun, breaking.

for you.

“stop pretending,” he growled against your mouth. “you want this too. don’t you?”

you didn’t answer.

you didn’t have to.

because your body gave you away.

he kissed you again, deeper, pressing his thigh between your legs as he cupped your face with one hand and slid the other down your back. you melted into him, your fists gripping his suit jacket. he pulled back just enough to speak.

“bed,” he ordered.

taehyun’s hands were steady as they moved over you, but there was something in his touch that made your breath catch — as if he was testing the boundaries of something fragile, something new.

your heart raced. you weren’t sure if it was the heat of his touch, the way he kissed you, or the slow realization that everything you had felt for him, all the confusion and desire, was now colliding into something far more real.

his hands traveled down your body, slipping under the hem of your nightdress. when his fingers touched your skin, it was like a spark. you gasped, and he froze for just a moment, before continuing, his fingers sliding up your thigh, almost teasingly slow.

he moved, lips trailing down your neck, sucking gently at the soft skin near your pulse. you arched into him, silently asking for more. the way he touched you, the way he made every inch of your skin burn under his fingers — it made you feel like you were breaking open in the best way possible.

you swallowed, hesitating for only a second.

taehyun’s hands were firm as they spread your legs, gently but with purpose, pulling you closer to him. his lips left your neck to trace down to your collarbone, each kiss a promise, each touch a slow unraveling of control. his breath hitched as he touched you where you needed him most, slipping past the fabric of your panties. you gasped, your body instinctively tensing, but he didn’t stop, didn’t falter. he was careful, tentative even, but the heat in his touch made it clear he wanted this, wanted you, desperately.

then you turned and walked toward it—slow, steps shaky—and sat at the edge.

he followed, kneeling in front of you, his fingers pulling off your heels, one by one, then slowly, reverently dragging his hands up your calves.

“your first time?” he asked, voice softer now. darker. laced with something almost like awe.

you nodded.

“i’ll be gentle,” he said, kissing your inner thigh. “at first.”

he lifted your dress slowly, exposing lace panties soaked through from everything he’d said, everything he’d done. he groaned low when he saw the mess between your thighs.

“look at that,” he muttered. “my pretty wife. dripping for me.”

you gasped as he licked a stripe over the lace, tongue hot and wet and slow. he took his time—kissing, teasing, tasting you through the fabric until you were panting, hips grinding against his mouth without shame.

“taehyun—please—”

“you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice hushed but intense. “so perfect.”

“let me in,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking, as if he was asking for permission, even though he had already claimed you.

“lie back.”

you obeyed.

he climbed over you, dragging the dress up and over your head until you were bare beneath him—your chest rising with every breath, your skin flushed.

he kissed your collarbones, your neck, your breasts—fingers tweaking your nipples, mouth trailing lower. then he was lining himself up, one hand gripping your hip as he kissed you again, deep and dizzying.

“relax,” he whispered against your lips. “i’ve got you.”

you nodded, the tension in your body thick as he carefully, slowly, pressed into you, watching your face the whole time. it hurt at first — the stretch, the unfamiliarity — but he didn’t rush. every movement was deliberate, tender, as if he were trying to make it as gentle as possible, as if he feared breaking you in the process.

your back arched at the stretch, tears welling up in your eyes from the fullness, the ache. he kissed them away.

“fuck,” he muttered. “you’re so fucking tight. like you were made for me.”

your breath hitched, and you held onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he pushed deeper, his lips finding yours once more. his kiss was hard, almost desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of you. his pace was slow, at first, allowing you to adjust, but the need in his body was impossible to ignore.

“you feel so good, baby. taking me so well. fuck—i can feel you squeezing me.”

but it didn’t stay soft for long.

because once you got used to him—once the sting faded and the pleasure bloomed—taehyun changed.

“this what you needed?” he growled, pounding into you harder, “a reminder that you're married? that you belong to me?”

he gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head, fucking into you harder, deeper. his jaw clenched as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

“mine,” he growled. “you belong to me. this pussy’s mine. not heesung’s. not anyone’s.”

“taehyun—god—”

“say it.”

“yours,” you moaned, breathless. “i’m yours.”

“that’s right,” he hissed. “and i’m gonna fuck you like it.”

he flipped you over before you could think—hands on your hips as he thrust into you from behind, one hand fisting your hair, the other slapping your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“you like this?” he said, breath hot against your neck. “like getting fucked like a wife should?”

you couldn’t answer—you were too far gone.

he pulled you up against his chest, your back flush to him as he kept fucking into you. his hand moved to your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles until you were shaking again, sobbing from the pleasure.

“you’re gonna come again,” he said, voice rough. “you’re gonna come all over my cock while i fill you up.”

and you did.

your whole body convulsed, a scream torn from your throat as he groaned behind you, emptying inside you with a final, brutal thrust.

he didn’t pull out.

instead, he dragged you back into bed, still inside you, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, your lips.

“again,” he whispered. “we’re not done.”

you were still trembling when he kissed the sweat from your temple, when he pressed his chest against your back and held your hips tightly against his.

he hadn’t pulled out.

you could still feel him inside you—thick and hot and pulsing. the room smelled like sex and perfume and expensive cologne. your skin was burning everywhere he touched you. everywhere he kissed.

taehyun’s hand slid from your hip to your waist, then up to your throat. not squeezing—just resting there. possessive. grounding.

his voice was low, rough against your ear.

“feel that?” he murmured. “still so fucking hard inside you.”

you whimpered, thighs twitching. he groaned in response, hips rolling slowly, deliberately, grinding deeper.

“fuck—taehyun…”

“don’t say his name,” he snapped. “you moan mine. no one else’s.”

his hand tightened just a little around your throat, enough to make your eyes flutter closed, to make your breath catch.

“say it,” he demanded.

“…taehyun.”

“again.”

“taehyun—fuck—please…”

he pulled out then, and you almost cried from the sudden emptiness. but he wasn’t done. not even close.

“on your stomach,” he said.

your limbs obeyed before your brain could catch up—body pliant, aching, desperate.

he spread your legs with his knee, dragged your hips up, and slid back into you with a groan so guttural it echoed through the room. your fists clutched the sheets, knuckles white, back arching at the angle.

this time, he didn’t hold back.

his thrusts were deep, punishing, endless. the bed creaked beneath the force of him. his name spilled from your mouth like a prayer, like a cry for help. but he wasn’t stopping. he wanted to hear it.

he needed to ruin you.

his hand tangled in your hair again, yanking you up until your back hit his chest.

“you think anyone else could fuck you like this?” he hissed. “you think he could make you feel this full? this fucking owned?”

your moan was broken, desperate. “no—taehyun—fuck—only you—”

he bent you forward again, pressing your face into the sheets, his hand gripping your ass as he pounded into you harder, messier.

“that’s right. you belong to me.”

“taehyun—i’m gonna—i’m—”

“come for me. now.”

you shattered beneath him, legs trembling violently as he fucked you through it, not relenting, not even slowing.

“god, baby,” he groaned, losing rhythm, “you’re fucking milking my cock.”

he came deep, with a grunt that sounded more like a growl, his hips still grinding into you, desperate to push every drop inside.

neither of you moved for a long time.

his body collapsed over yours—heavy, solid, grounding. your face was buried in the sheets, lungs barely able to keep up, body boneless beneath his weight.

then, slowly, he pulled out.

you gasped softly at the mess that followed, at the mix of fluids dripping between your thighs, down to your trembling legs. he watched it happen with dark, hungry eyes.

“fuck,” he muttered, thumb dragging through the mess before spreading it back into you. “look at this. took all of me like such a good fucking girl.”

you whimpered, shivering.

taehyun leaned down, kissing your shoulder, your spine, your lower back. then he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you with him, both of you sinking into the sheets, tangled together.

he didn’t speak for a while. neither did you.

then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it:

“don’t ever look at him like that again.”

his voice was low. dangerous.

your eyes fluttered closed, your fingers curling into his chest.

“i won’t,” you whispered.

he kissed your forehead.

“good,” he said. “because you’re mine. and i’m not letting you forget it.”

the room was dim, the soft golden light from the hallway spilling through the cracked bedroom door. taehyun hadn’t let go of you. not since the moment you both collapsed into each other, skin against skin, breaths uneven, hearts pounding too loud for either of you to ignore. the air was still heavy with the scent of last night—sweat, sex, his cologne lingering on your skin. your legs ached. your throat felt raw. but it was a quiet ache. a sore you didn’t mind.

but now, the high was gone, replaced by something raw and heavy.

his fingers traced idle shapes along the curve of your bare spine, but his eyes were distant. not cold — not like before — but unreadable. he wasn’t looking at you. he stared at the ceiling, his chest still rising and falling beneath yours.

you shifted slightly in his arms, pulling the sheets tighter around your body. your voice was quiet when you spoke.

"i know you don’t love me." you felt his breath catch. his hand stopped moving. "you never have."

taehyun didn’t answer at first. the silence made your throat close up. maybe you shouldn't have said it. maybe it was better when everything was unspoken — easier to pretend.

"you’re right," he said finally, his voice low, flat. "i didn’t."

you nodded, heart sinking, even though you told yourself you were prepared for that truth.

"but i loved you," you whispered, eyes stinging.

that made him look at you.

not glance. not flick his gaze and move on.

he turned his head, slowly, and looked at you like he had never seen you before. his eyes searched yours — not just your face, not your lips or your lashes or the outline of your cheek — but you. like he was trying to piece together something he hadn’t noticed until now.

"you what?" he asked, almost breathless.

"i loved you," you repeated. the words burned on your tongue, bitter and hot and trembling. "quietly. without reason. without hope. even when you wouldn’t look at me. even when you kept me at arm’s length for a year. i still—" you paused, swallowing hard. "i don’t know when it started. maybe it was the way you always pulled my chair out at those family dinners. or the way you’d always place your hand on the small of my back when we had to play pretend in front of everyone. it was nothing. always nothing. but it meant something to me."

taehyun sat up slowly, the sheets slipping down his bare chest. he looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came. he was frozen, and that silence felt worse than any rejection.

you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. "it’s okay. you don’t have to say anything. i just… i needed you to know. even if it changes nothing."

"stop," he said suddenly. his voice cracked.

you blinked. "...what?"

"don’t say it meant nothing," he said, turning to face you completely. there was a tension in his jaw, his hands clenched in the sheets like he didn’t know where else to put them. "don’t say that."

you stared at him, lips parting, but he beat you to it.

"i saw you tonight," he said, his voice lower, steadier now. "with him. laughing like that. smiling like it didn’t hurt. like you weren’t trying to survive this fucking arrangement. and for the first time, i hated myself for not trying harder. for not seeing you sooner. i thought i could stay distant. keep it clean. keep it safe. but then—"

he exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair.

"then you looked at me like you didn’t need me anymore."

your heart thudded in your chest.

"so maybe i didn’t love you then," he said, his voice quiet again. "but don’t tell me it meant nothing. because right now, i think it’s starting to mean everything."

you stared at him, breath caught in your throat, chest tight with the ache of all the things unsaid between you.

slowly, carefully, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

"then let it mean something," you whispered.

taehyun closed his eyes. and for the first time — truly, deeply — he held you like he didn’t want to let you go.

he opened his eyes a little at the time. he stared a moment longer—at your lips, your eyes, the faint tremble still in your voice. then, for the first time, he leaned in without hesitation. without obligation.

his kiss was soft. warm. nothing like last night.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“i’ll draw a bath for you,” he said. “stay in bed.”

you blinked. “you…?”

“you can’t walk properly,” he added, and this time, a tiny smirk curved at the corner of his mouth. “my fault.”

you flushed. “taehyun—”

“don’t argue,” he said, sitting up. the sheets slid down his bare torso, revealing the lines you’d traced with your fingers just hours ago. “you married me. you’re mine. that means i take care of you now.”

you stayed quiet as he got out of bed, the tenderness in his tone still ringing in your ears.

you’re mine.

i take care of you now.

but for the first time, you felt it in the way he walked toward the bathroom. in the way he turned on the water. in the way he reached for a towel and hung it over the warmer. in the way he came back to you with a robe in hand and helped you into it without asking.

he wasn’t warm. not exactly. but he was no longer cold.

he was changing.

A lot of unmet wants and needs.

He’d asked you to come with him to his YSL after party earlier. He’d just finished shooting his campaign, and it was released to the public yesterday evening. 

As you expected, it was doing numbers. Every TikTok, tweet, reel you came across had his name littered somewhere in the piece of media.

When your boyfriend goes blond, it’s already a trending topic. Throw in a see through button-up, a nipple piercing, and a huge fat YSL logo, and Twitter is suddenly in heat. Yourself included.

Usually, you'd be ready to transform yourself into his arm candy for the night, the touch of his hand lingering firm on your lower back as you walk into the expensive club with him. Hands wrapped tight around his arm to proudly show what’s yours.

But it’s your best friend's birthday tonight.

You'd promised weeks ago to go clubbing with her and some friends, before you’d known about the after party. The thought of letting her down felt equal to seeing the frown that started creasing your boyfriend's forehead.

A tense silence stretched between the two of you.

"You're going out with them? Again?" his voice was flat, a stark contrast to his usual playful tone. He hadn't been liking your friends as of late.

Kissing his teeth when you’d mention getting coffee with Keeho, and rolling his eyes when you'd bring up Aria. It’s new, something you picked up on this month alone, but it’s enough of a pattern to make your face screw up. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

"It's Aria's birthday, Soob." You jutted your hip out and leaned your weight on your right leg. "I promised her and the group weeks ago."

"This is the third time this month you’ve blown me off," he threw his arms up wildly. "It's a big night for me, and you said you’d be there.” his voice trailed off, and you lowered your defenses.

Because that was the third time this month things hadn't aligned the way they should have. Each one a result of poor planning and conflicting schedules.

A part of you understood, a nagging guilt prickling at your conscience. You did say you were going to go, but that was before you realized it was on the same Saturday as Aria’s birthday.

If you’d mentioned her birthday earlier, this could have been avoided. But you also had a life, commitments outside of your boyfriend's hectic schedule that you couldn't break at the last minute. Even if you were a bit in the wrong.

Silence hovered again, his aggravation was pliable. Eyebrows furrowed, teeth pressing firm into his bottom lip. You didn't have time for this right now.

“I’m gonna shower, we’ll talk about this when I get out. Okay?” You reached out for his hand to leave a reassuring squeeze, a quick kiss on his cheek, but he stepped away. Bluntly ignoring your touch, and curled himself inward. Ouch.

His reaction wouldn’t have been so vile if it weren’t for the fact that you two haven’t spent proper time with each other since late last month. Both of you too busy. Too tired.

The last time you had sex was over three weeks ago, and it was rushed, uncoordinated, and unfulfilling. You missed intimacy with him. You missed throwing your legs into his lap as he massaged your feet, idly talking about his day as a rerun of whatever anime you’d been watching played in the background.

You missed hushed kisses and sweet nothings pressed to your skin under the covers, as you two giggle at the cheesiness of it all. Pure unfiltered love.

You missed Soobin. You missed your boyfriend.

You came out of the bathroom to an empty apartment, and before anger started to simmer in your throat, sadness hit first. Deep and sorrowful, and it spread throughout your chest.

No goodbye. No, I love you. You can’t remember the last time you heard that.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself. Now wasn't the time for that. Tonight was about Aria. Not you, and definitely not your pissy boyfriend. You wouldn't let him ruin Aria’s night.

Glancing at your phone, you switched it off, cutting out all possible contact with Soobin. Letting silence and your disconnect speak for you.

Fuck him. And you hope he got the message.

He did.

Swaying slightly, you walked back into your apartment. The gems stitched into your tight short shorts glimmered in the warped light of the city’s skyline, that bled in through your living room windows. They’re your skimpiest pair, usually earning a cheeky ass grab from Soobin.

You’d only worn them once, and it was to his first after-party, after shooting with Dior. You promised him that you'd only wear them when going out with him after he caught wind of the unashamed stares and all the paid martinis you received.

Not one to be jealous, Soobin quickly realized that maybe he could be a bit possessive when provoked. And provoked he was.

Which is why he clenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders back when he saw you saunter in at two am in those same shorts, clumsily reaching for the wall to peel off your boots.

Completely oblivious to his presence.

He watched as a giggle escaped your lips when you turned to look at yourself in the hallway mirror, pulling out your phone to snap a few pics. Your mascara and eyeliner smudged, and the glitter eyeshadow you'd swiped from Aria’s makeup bag had migrated into tiny, shimmering stars under your eyes. You looked hot, like you walked right out of one of Soobin’s wet dreams.

Your eyes were red and lidded. A remnant of the blunt you, Keeho, and the rest of your group had hotboxed the car with before they dropped you off.

Combined with the tequila shots you threw back, you were pleasantly cross faded. Ready for your bed, the comfort of your pajamas, and maybe ordering from your favorite taco spot that’s open for another two hours.

Sighing, you turned towards the living room, and your playful smile vanished the moment your eyes met Soobin’s sprawled form on the couch. Oh, right, he also has your house keys.

Your cross fade left your limbs light, almost detached, and the edges of the room vignette. Soobin in the center of it. Your argument replayed in your mind, a sour note against your buzz.

He sat with his hands clasped loosely in his lap, long legs sprawled, his posture slouched.

His gaze roamed your body, lingering a second too long on your nipples poking through your off-the-shoulder top, before flicking back up to your eyes. Jaw so clenched you pray he doesn’t break it. Or maybe you do.

With an off-balanced sway in your hips, you walked over to him, ready to piss him off more than he already looked. The closer you got, the air hung heavy with the acrid scent of a strain you’re familiar with. He’s high, pupils dilated and glassy, mirroring yours.

Agitation rolled off him in waves, and that only fueled your ego. A twisted knot of pleasure grew in your chest, knowing you were the reason for it.

You grinned, straddling him on the couch. The smell of marijuana clung strongly to him, mixing a little too well with his new YSL cologne, courtesy of his campaign.

Soobin looked up, staring you down despite being under you. Subconsciously, he moved his hands from his lap, and placed them on the couch so you could comfortably sit.

You felt his body tense.

“Aw, you look upset, baby.” You tilted your head to the side and raked your acrylics through his hair to sweep it back. His eyebrow piercing glinted when his head knocked to the side under the aggression of your hand, glasses slipping down his nose.

The saccharine that dripped from your voice was enough to curdle milk.

"What’s wrong? You can tell me," you cooed, nodding with mock concern.

Soobin's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something like a warning in them before he let out a humorless laugh, swiped his tongue along his bottom lip, and turned away from your face. His leg began to bounce.

You weren't sure where this brattiness of yours came from, but you were getting under his skin, and that was enough for you to keep going. The earlier fight still hung heavy; you had every right to act this way.

Before he could pull away, your hand tightened around the fistful of his hair and yanked him back to face you.

"Oh, I think I know, is Soobinnie mad that I turned my phone off?" Your childish facade was at odds with the knowing look on your face.

You had turned your phone back on while hot boxing Keeho’s car. The string of missed calls, texts, and slurred voicemails from him all filtered in the second your phone lit up. The laugh you let out was evil, smug as you and Aria mocked through them all in the backseat.

"Yeah, that's what it is, isn't it? Or is it because I wore your favorite little shorts without you?” You pulled his head back so his Adam's apple was bared, “They got me and the group a few rounds of free shots, that’s for sure.”

You sighed dramatically, puckering your lips, “Maybe next time don’t leave without acknowledging me first, yeah?”

You maintained eye contact with Soobin, his leg bouncing faster and the couch groaned under the tight grip he had on the edge of it. You could smell mint and whiskey on his breath when you leaned in.

“Fuck you.” You spat, patting his cheek. Rolling your eyes as you flicked his glasses back up his nose.

Pleased, you moved to get off him, happy to have gotten that off your chest, but halted when his hand locked on your hips and squeezed tight. He yanked you back into his lap, and you gasped at the sudden pressure, wincing when he pressed harder over your bone.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Your lips parted, eyes widening. Soobin’s never used that tone with you before, not once.

Your words were lodged in your throat, completely caught off guard. Before you could attempt to say something, anything, Soobin’s hand slithered up your neck and pressed at the pleasure points on the side of your throat. You tried to squeeze your thighs together at the immediate throb that sent to your cunt.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t expect me to let you talk to me like that, did you?” This is a side of your boyfriend you weren't familiar with. Vulgar and mean.

Heat unfurled down your neck, embarrassment clung to you like a second skin, but your nipples hardened. The sudden deep rise and fall of your chest was hard to ignore, and Soobin noticed before you could register it. A Cheshire grin stretched across his lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting worked up about all this?” His eyebrow arched, “Your pussy’s getting beside herself, isn’t she?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, trying your hardest not to drag your cunt against the bulging tent in his pants. Fucking hypocrite, he’s just as fucked up over this as you are.

“Maybe I should just leave you like this.” Your back arched when he tightened his hold around your neck, nuzzling his lips against your jaw. You can’t help but give him a pleading look.

You both know he wouldn't.

And now you’re in your current position.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Soobin mutters. The hand that’s not working your thigh, sliding into your loose top to fondle your tits. Thumb and pointer finger twisting at your nipple. Your nails dig into his leg.

“You knew better than that.” He rolls your nipple a bit harder than he should, and you hiss.

This is foreign to you, and you’re unsure how to act. He’s usually so soft and caring. Oftentimes, too vanilla when he gets completely overwhelmed with his love for you.

This is nowhere close. But you try your old habits anyway, your sweet begging that usually has him doing anything you ask.

“Soobin, please.” You whine, “I didn’t mean to—.” He tuts and muffles you with the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, you did, baby, even made a point to leave the house practically naked.” he laughs humorless, “That’s not going to work this time, princess.”

Soobin slips his hand into your shorts and presses two fingers against your swollen clit, rubbing soft circles. He’s barely applying pressure, just toying with you, and your high-pitched whimpers are left muffled.

“No panties, either?” his nostrils flare and he expels a long breath. It sends a shiver down your spine, and your stomach lurches. You part your lips, ready to defend yourself in mumbles against his palm, but he pulls his hand away.

His fingers move to tap against your lips with surprising force, and he pushes them through, letting his middle and index fingers press down on your tongue.

“Mm mm, don’t wanna hear it.” he runs his tongue along the shell of your ear and is quick to move his hand out from your shorts, pressing a large hand to your abdomen to bring you down when your hips buck up.

“You’ve been so bratty lately.” He mutters when tugging your shorts off, and all too quickly lands a slap against your sticky cunt. Your vision blurs, the sharp sting lacing through you. You exhale a sound, something sharp and short. Fingers twitching.

“Oh god.” you gurgle, trying but struggling to move against the force of his palm.

“You really wanted to piss me off tonight.” his voice comes out low, a threat, and you can’t help the way you revel in it. “Just needed everyone’s attention since you couldn’t get mine.”

You try to jerk your thighs close, but Soobin’s quicker than you. Freehand firmly gripping the meat of your thigh and forcefully pressing away your right leg from the left.

His fingers still loosely hang out the side of your mouth, your spit slick across the side of your face. Your pussy is swollen, pulsing, begging for a release only Soobin can give.

He moves you around so that your legs are spread wider, and pins you firmly against his chest.

“You don’t deserve this,” he slides his hand back to your throbbing cunt, and finally applies pressure to your clit. Sweat coats your body in a thin sheen, making you appear dewy under the skyline pouring through your bedroom window.

Soobin hooks his chin over your shoulder and peers his eyes down between your legs. He spreads your lips with his pointer and ring finger, the sound lewd. Your juices glimmer in the low light, and Soobin’s cock twitches in his jeans.

You feel him hard and heavy against your lower back.

“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to just barely brush over your clit, then slides his middle and index finger into your sopping hole. You push back against him immediately. He curls his fingers, not giving you the time to bask in finally having him where you need him.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, his pace quick and unmerciful. You feel so small, being completely encased in Soobin’s large frame like this. It has your skin buzzing.

His hot breath blows ragged against your cheek, eyes not leaving how your pussy is eagerly sucking in his fingers.

“Oh, fuck~” you drawl, you’re going to come like this, and you wouldn't want it any other way. Soobin knows it too, the way your head lolls to the side, the way your toes curl, knuckles white as they grip his jacket sleeve.

And it’s why he stops, slowing his movement until his wrist is still. Your eyes snap open at the abruptness, at the loss of his fingers when he pulls out.

“No, no!” You quiver, hands balling into little fists when you knock your head back against his collarbone. You were so close, right there.

“I—” You slur, trying to find words. Brain not working with your mouth anymore.

“Hm?” He taunts, bringing his fingers to his lips. Your eyes are blown wide when Soobin makes a show of sucking your juices off his fingers. A groan rumbling deep in his throat at your taste. He peers over at you, “Where’d all that mouth you had, go?”

You try again, but everything blanks when the sound of his belt unclasping filters through your ears. In a swift movement, he’s sliding out from behind you and removing his hand from your mouth.

Immediately, you find yourself missing the shell of his body and the heavy pressure of his fingers on your tongue.

Cool air rushes to your back where he once was, and you shiver.

“God, you really don’t deserve this,” he reiterates as he steps out of his jeans. His shirt and jacket follow suit. You watch him in a daze, thrumming in anticipation.

Just moments ago, you thought you had the upper hand, and now your brain can’t process anything but the man undressing at the foot of your bed. He’s a stark contrast to the pink of your room. He looks out of place, despite being right where you need him.

Soobin crawls back to you, and for the first time today, in weeks, catches your lips in a searing kiss. Your mouths clash in a hungry mesh of spit and tongue. Your highs make everything sloppy and wet, and so so good. Blindly grabbing and taking each other apart.

Your hand tangles in his hair, tugging at the strands down the nape of his neck, earning a whine that you eagerly swallow.

Take take take.

You need all of him. You’ve missed him so much, and you can tell he’s missed you too, with the way he’s grabbing at you.

You wander your fingers over the expanse of his body, nails dipping into the ridges of his stomach before slipping into his boxers, and wrapping your hand around his cock.

Soobin shudders, and he pulls back from your lips to grab your wrist, his grip tight. His breath fans over your lips, glossy with your shared spit.

“I can’t. I need you, need you so bad.” You’re downright whimpering at this point, pleading for him. Gone is your attitude from earlier, and Soobin laughs right in your face. It’s pitiful, and he can’t help it.

“Aw, what's wrong, princess?” His forehead creases, mock concern seeping out of his words. He dips his head down to nose at the sensitive spot of your neck, just under your ear.

“Come on, you can tell me.” He nods, hair tickling your cheek.

Soobin mimics your words from earlier, pinning one of your wrists above your head. Your free hand twitches under his chest, not quite touching, just hanging in the air. Unsure if he wants you touching him. You’re scared, and so turned on. Pussy fluttering around nothing.

“Oh, I think I know.” He releases your wrist and yanks you back by your hair, baring your throat out to him.

Just like you did.

“You want me to fuck you. That it?”

You do. So bad. You’re not sure how much more of this you can take, which is why you’re not surprised when you feel your eyes get hot. You’ve never been brought to this point, and you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to leave this headspace of being completely worn down like this.

You shake your head eagerly, tears glossing over your eyes. “Binnie, I’m so sorry.” You mewl, peering up at him with how he has your head positioned, and swallowing when you watch the side of his lip twitch up.

“Maybe next time don’t bitch at me, yeah?” He pats your cheek twice. It stings, but you lean into it.

Soobin tilts his head to the side, hair sliding with him. He simpers and remains silent. You feel your face start to burn, feeling so belittled under him, and a hot tear falls down the side of your cheek.

You watch Soobin’s eyes follow it with rapt attention, and just when gear up to beg like your life depends on it, because it does, his eyes snap back to yours and you feel the tip of his cock pushing its way into your cunt.

Your eyes close, and your mouth hangs open. A gasp stuck in your throat. You’ve fucked your boyfriend many times before. But this is unlike anything.

Feeling him like this is virgin, the bated breath, the heat, the intensity of it all. You feel him everywhere all at once, your body pulsating, ears feeling as if they're stuffed with cotton. You feel hot, molten almost, but you’re shivering.

Soobin bends your neck back further and presses his forehead to yours while pushing himself in. Inch by inch, you feel him filling you up. His face hovers over yours as he watches you.

“Mhm, that’s it, baby. You feel me?” He mutters against your lips, and you keen, mindlessly lifting your hand to grab hold of his in your hair.

You can’t speak. You feel so full, the stretch one that you’ll never get enough of. He’s thick and heavy, and it’s almost too much. 

Then he snaps his hips, and you choke out a curse, then a long, drawn-out cry. If you were in your right mind, you’d almost be embarrassed that such a sound left you. But you aren’t. 

Soobin snaps his hips one more time, and then he’s fucking you as if he’s on borrowed time. His hips grind purposeful and quick. He untangles his hand from your hair and interlaces it with yours, before tucking himself into your neck. 

He presses closer to you, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Ankles locked tight as his heavy grunts fall into your ear. He’s a mess of praise and curses, your bodies sticking together, and the sound of skin smacking skin bouncing off the walls.

“Missed you, missed you so fucking bad.” He babbles, moving his hips harder. 

Your body jolts up with each thrust, and you use your free arm to wrap around Soobin’s back. Your acrylics scratch into his skin as you try to ground yourself. 

But you need more. 

“More, Soobin,” You plead. “More, more.”

He’s manhandling you around before you can process it. His head lifts from your neck as he turns you over on your stomach. Your face is mushed into your pillows at the foot of your bed, ass perked up.

“Never enough for you.” Soobin grunts, slipping back inside you and giving you just what you asked for. He leans down so he’s molded to the shape of your back, and grabs hold of your throat from the front. The pace he sets is just as relentless, and you have no idea what you’re saying anymore if you’re even saying anything at all. 

“You feel so good, baby. So good for me.” He praises, reveling in how good your sucking him in. How warm and gummy you feel around him. Squeezing him in just right. 

You’re both in a conjoined headspace, one that you hope never ends. You no longer know how you both got to this point. What you were arguing about in the first place. Just that you want to keep fucking like this, want to always feel him like this. 

You feel yourself being lifted off the mattress, and then you’re on your knees, Soobin’s front still molded to your back. He reaches around and squeezes your left tit, fingers rolling your nipple. You reach back and grip his hair when he starts leaving messy kisses down the side of your throat. 

“Look. Look at us while I fuck you.” Soobin orders, his voice vibrates through you, and it takes all you have to peel your eyes open to see yourself through the mirror. 

It’s in the corner of your room, and you can only see the side of you and Soobin as he fucks into you. Your eyes lock with him through the mirror. He’s already staring at you over your shoulder through his lashes, hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His gaze is primal, something wicked, and you feel your stomach start to tighten, pussy spazzing around him. 

“Oh fuck, m’ gonna cum. Gonna cum.” You cry. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me?” He moves down to start rubbing tight circles on your clit, and you arch your back, throwing your head against his shoulder. A chorus of yes’.

“Look.” He growled again, hand moving off your neck to firmly grip your jaw and force your face back to the mirror. You look a mess. A hot fucking mess. 

That coil in your stomach is tying a knot so tight, you’re not sure you’re ready for it to snap. But you need it too. Need it so fucking bad. You grip Soobin's arm that's resting on your abdomen.

“Right there, right there!” You squeal, feeling yourself weaken in his hold. Soobin feels it too, and pushes you back down into your sheets, able to go deeper in the new position. His arm is still wrapped around your waist, holding your middle half in a slight arch. 

“Cum for me, you can do it. Make me cum.” He’s whispering in your ear, “So fuckin’ close, cum with me baby.” 

And the pleasure that’s been brewing, thrumming throughout your body, snaps. You cum hard, Soobin’s name high-pitched and breathless when you reach down to tightly grip the corner of your bed. Back arched high and sharp, eyes closed so tight, white dots begin to spot your vision.

Your walls clamp down on Soobin, constricting around his dick, and it sets him off. His eyes lidded as he drunkenly looses himself in your pussy, chasing his release. “Love you, love you so fucking much, fuck!” 

You watch him through the mirror, watching as his mouth drops open. Watching as he falls onto you, squeezing you tight when he finally cums. Painting your walls white. A few more snaps of his hips, and he’s falling limp onto your back.

You let him stay there for a moment as you try to catch your breath, body melting into the bed, basking in the quiet aftermath. Then mumble a protest at his weight. “Soob, you’re heavy.” He huffs, a grin pressed to your shoulder blade. He moves to pull out, and you hiss, twitching up at the overstimulation.

“I gotcha.” He mutters, maneuvering himself so he’s sitting up against your headboard, pulling you up with him to straddle his lap. Your mind reels as you two make yourselves comfortable.

Once seated, you wrap your arms around Soobin’s neck, and he starts to pepper kisses on the side of your face, lightly nipping along your jaw and ear lobe. It’s sweet, it tickles, and you giggle. Heart swelling, full and beating in the afterglow. You missed this more than anything, more than the sex.

He reaches the corner of your lips, and you turn your head to catch his lips. It’s slower than the one you shared earlier.

It pours over you, syrupy and slow. His hands encase your waist, thumbs softly rubbing over the places he dug into, and lets you lead the kiss. A soft whimper leaves Soobin, and he pushes up for more. Gripping you tighter as if you’d leave him the moment he lets go.

Like hell you would.

You pull away after a few, and another giggle erupts when he tries to chase your lips.

He smiles then, a genuine one, showing all his teeth, eyes crinkling. You reach up to brush his hair back from his eyebrow, softly rubbing your thumb over the piercing.

“I love you.” He murmurs, leaning into your touch. “M’ sorry.”

“I love you more, Bin.” You kiss his nose, & softly remove his glasses from his face, placing them on the nightstand. “I’m sorry too, let’s talk about it all tomorrow, okay?” He agrees, leaning up to give you one more kiss, then rolls you over so you’re both lying down, and nuzzles into your neck.

You both need a shower, there’s dried spunk between your legs, Soobin’s sweaty, and the sheets need changing. But you can’t be bothered right now, not when your boyfriend’s mumbling incoherent sentences of his love for you into your neck.

“So, how was the party without me? Boring as fuck wasn’t it?” You grin a shit-eating grin, fingers working through his scalp, and Soobin rolls his eyes when you start laughing.

You didn’t realize until you were standing at the edge of the beach towel, towel in one hand, the sound of waves behind you, five pairs of eyes in front of you.

The bikini top barely covered your tits. A little underboob peeked out each time you moved. The bottoms sat low, hugging your hips, dipping under your soft tummy in a way that felt… borderline indecent. And the cut in the back? Not quite a thong, not quite full coverage. Just enough cheek to make it worse.

You tugged nervously at the hem of your bikini top, the fabric stretched tighter than you remembered when you tried it on alone in your bedroom mirror. The snug material dipped low over your chest and clung to every soft curve like it had been poured onto you.

“Is this… too much?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, heat creeping up your neck.

Silence.

Not a single word left their lips.

Yeonjun’s gaze locked onto you like he was physically incapable of looking anywhere else. His eyes dragged over your figure with a stunned intensity,so focused he forgot to blink, his jaw slightly slack. If you looked closely, you could see the pulse in his throat jump.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle that sliced through the quiet like a hot knife. His hand ran through his hair, disheveling it more than usual, the sound of his exhale practically a groan. His gaze dropped to your thighs, then lower, before darting back up and away like he got caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Kai’s lips parted like he was about to speak—but nothing came out. His eyes, usually so gentle and playful, were wide with something heavier. Hungrier. He shifted where he stood, hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

Taehyun cleared his throat, the sound rough and abrupt. He turned his face so fast it looked forced—too quick to be casual, too obvious to be natural. But not before you caught the flicker of something dark and heated in his gaze.

And Soobin…

Soobin just stared.

Completely still.

Eyes wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly open. His water bottle was lifted halfway to his lips but frozen there, forgotten. A single bead of condensation slid down the plastic and fell to the ground. He didn’t even blink as his gaze swept over you,slowly, like he was memorizing every inch of bare skin, every dip, every curve. He looked almost dazed.

“Guys?” you asked again, voice quieter now. Self-consciousness crept up your spine, curling around your ribs like ice. Your arms crossed instinctively over your chest, trying to shield yourself from their stares,but it was too late. The image of you in that too-small bikini was already burned into their minds.

Soobin finally blinked.

And then swallowed.

Hard.

Yeonjun was the first to snap out of it.

“No—no, it’s not too much,” he blurted, voice pitched higher than usual as he rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes flicked upward, trying to focus on your face and only your face. “You look—uh. It’s a good color on you.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. That wasn’t exactly a denial. Just a very panicked attempt at diplomacy.

Beomgyu, sprawled out on his towel like he owned the sun, let out a low snort. “I’m gonna need to swim immediately before I lose my mind.” he muttered under his breath, dragging the heel of his palm down his face. He didn’t even try to hide the way his eyes lingered on the way your suit cut into the plush curve of your waist.

Kai laughed, but it came out strangled,tight and breathy. “Sun’s really… warm today,” he offered lamely, snatching a towel and tossing it over his lap with a speed that made your eyes narrow. His fingers tugged at the edge like he was afraid it would move, like something under there needed to stay hidden.

You blinked, and frowned.

You didn’t get it at first. You weren’t trying to tease them.

You had just picked the wrong size online. That’s all. The top was snug and the bottoms rode higher than you meant, but it wasn’t like you’d done it on purpose. You didn’t think about what it would look like to them.

So you sat down on your towel,right in the center of their little circle,legs tucked off to the side, thighs soft and glowing under the sun. You stretched your arms up with a sigh, letting the sunlight kiss your skin. Then leaned back on your hands, completely unaware of what you were doing.

But they noticed. Oh, they noticed.

Your chest pushed forward, tits straining against the small triangles of fabric, the tie between them visibly tugging with the pressure. Your stomach curved out just slightly, soft and inviting, the bikini bottoms dipping into the plush dip of your hip bones. A bead of sweat rolled down your collarbone and disappeared between the valley of your breasts.

That’s when you felt it. The stillness. The silence stretching a second too long. The way the boys weren’t talking anymore. Weren’t laughing. Not like before. Not normally. Their breathing was quieter now—heavier.

Measured.

You caught Yeonjun sneaking a glance, then looking away so fast it looked painful. Beomgyu blatantly stared before pretending to sip from an empty bottle. Kai fiddled with the towel in his lap, but his eyes kept flickering back to the tops of your thighs. Taehyun said nothing at all, but you felt his eyes on you, like a touch.

And Soobin…

Soobin hadn’t moved. His gaze lingered for too long on your stomach. Your chest. Then flicked up guiltily to your face. His cheeks were a furious shade of red.

That’s when it hit you. You weren’t just hanging out anymore. You were the problem, or at least, that’s what it felt like. Like your body, soft and bare and squeezed into this little bikini, had completely unbalanced the air. Their composure cracked like glass under your weight, and yet you still didn’t cover up.

Not yet. Not when part of you… liked the way their gazes burned.

Taehyun didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t watching as you bent forward to grab the bottle of sunscreen from your bag. His gaze dragged down the arch of your back, lingering where your bikini top strained against your shoulder blades and the lower strap cut across the curve of your sides.

You were oblivious to the way his jaw flexed, until he spoke.

“Need help with that?”

His voice came out lower than usual. Tighter. Rough around the edges, like it was being held back by sheer force of will.

You blinked at him, then tossed the bottle with a small smirk. “Sure. Back and shoulders?” He caught it with one hand,barely, and swallowed so hard you saw his throat bob.

The cap clicked open with a snap that felt unnecessarily loud in the thick air between you. You pulled your hair to the side, exposing the length of your back, and turned to face forward again. The sun warmed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat that bloomed the moment Taehyun touched you.

His hands weren’t rushed. They were slow. Intentional. He rubbed the lotion into your skin with firm, even pressure,palms sliding over your shoulders, fingers brushing the straps of your bikini with maddening hesitation. It was like he wanted to stay respectful but couldn’t help himself. Like each pass of his hand was a battle between discipline and desire.

You heard it then. The sharp inhale just to your left. Yeonjun.

You turned your head just slightly and saw his hand twitch against the towel, curled into the fabric like he was anchoring himself. His eyes were fixed on where Taehyun’s hands met your bare skin, his chest rising and falling with shallow, barely contained breaths.

Beomgyu groaned and threw himself onto his back, slapping a wide-brimmed straw hat over his face. “I’m not looking,” he muttered, voice strained. “I’m not looking. I’m not looking.”

No one believed him, though. Not with the way his legs shifted restlessly under his towel.

Kai, on the other hand, definitely was looking.

Elbows on his knees, chin resting in one hand, his gaze traced the shape of your body like he was trying to memorize it. His lip was caught between his teeth, biting down hard. The towel in his lap had shifted slightly,and he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.

Then there was Soobin. Poor, sweet, quiet Soobin.

He hadn’t moved a muscle, but he was absolutely dying. His entire face had turned a soft, lovely shade of red,one that deepened when your thighs shifted and the inside of them caught the light. His eyes darted there once,just once,but that was all it took. He froze, stiff and silent, his water bottle now crushed slightly in his grip.

You glanced over your shoulder at Taehyun. “You okay back there?”

His thumbs brushed the top of your spine, pressing in like he was grounding himself.

“Peachy,” he replied, voice a little hoarse.

———-

It was subtle at first.

The way the atmosphere shifted.

The fidgeting. The glances. The fact that none of them could sit still around you anymore, not comfortably. They adjusted their towels, cleared their throats, scratched at nothing. Their hands wandered aimlessly: to water bottles, sunglasses, already-read pages of books they were no longer focused on.

But the moment you stood? Everything shifted.

You didn’t mean to move like that. Didn’t mean to tease.

You just walked, but your hips swayed with every step, natural, rhythmic, soft flesh shifting beneath the too-small bikini. Your thick thighs brushed with each stride, the hem of the bottoms clinging snug between them, making you tug lightly at the wedgie that refused to stay fixed. The motion only made it worse. Or maybe… better, from their point of view.

Five heads turned at once. Their silence roared louder than the waves.

You stepped into the water, squealing softly as the cold nipped at your ankles and calves, the sudden chill a sharp contrast to the heat baking your skin. You waded deeper, letting the ocean climb up your thighs, then your hips. You laughed, tipping your head back, scooping the water up and splashing it onto your chest, gasping as it hit your skin, nipples visibly hardening through the thin, wet fabric.

On the shore, they didn’t move. They watched you like you were a vision, some kind of fantasy.

Soobin leaned toward Kai, voice hushed like he was scared you might somehow hear from all the way in the water. “Did she always look like that?”

Kai exhaled, eyes glazed over. “No,” he whispered. “She didn’t always wear that.”

Taehyun stayed quiet, fingers dug into the towel beneath him like he was grounding himself, jaw tight as he tracked every glint of sun off your wet skin.

Beomgyu still had the hat over his face, but you could see his chest rising faster now. Could see his leg bouncing. He hadn’t looked away once.

Yeonjun stood up suddenly, pacing in a tight, erratic line. “Okay,” he said, flustered, practically manic. “We can’t all be freaks. Someone. Someone normal go out there and splash her. Just, like, splash her. Like a normal person.”

No one volunteered. No one moved.

Soobin muttered under his breath, “You go splash her.”

“Me?” Yeonjun pointed at himself, scandalized. “I’m the only one not hiding a boner right now.”

Beomgyu wheezed from under his hat. Kai didn’t deny it. Neither did Taehyun.

And Soobin…

Soobin finally looked away from the water, flushed and frowning, like he hated himself for wanting to look again.

Out in the ocean, you floated on your back, blissfully unaware of the fire you’d lit behind you.

———

Beomgyu raised his hand, voice flat. “I will sacrifice myself to flirt publicly.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then…

“No flirting.”

Soobin’s voice cut through the tension, low and unexpectedly firm.

Everyone froze.

“…No flirting?” Beomgyu echoed, arching a brow, as if that was the most outrageous thing said all day.

Soobin cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. “I meant…shut up.” Beomgyu smirked. Taehyun looked away with a tight-lipped smile. Kai bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh, but Soobin didn’t smile back.

Eventually, they all joined you in the water, one by one. Slowly. Trying to play it cool. Trying to act like it was normal. Like they weren’t all hard and suffering.

Yeonjun was first, running in fast and diving under to hide how low his swim trunks had started to sit. Kai followed close behind, laughing too loud, splashing Beomgyu on the way in like it gave him an excuse not to look directly at your chest.

Taehyun waded in carefully, keeping his hands beneath the surface, jaw clenched.

Soobin came last. He walked in stiffly, chest rising with every slow breath, water licking higher and higher up his body like it was trying to cool him down, though it did absolutely nothing.

Once they were close to you? That was a different story. It didn’t get easier for any of them. You couldn’t keep your distance. You leaned into them.

You wrapped your arms loosely around their shoulders as the waves gently lifted your body. Clung to them for balance. Laughed and floated, your weight shifting with the tide, your skin brushing theirs in innocent, unbearable contact.

Your thighs, soft and slick, slid against theirs when you hooked your leg lazily over their hips.

Your chest pressed against their chests, barely covered by wet fabric, nipples clearly visible through the soaked bikini top. The cool water made you shiver, but the warmth of their bodies pulled you closer. And every time a wave nudged you forward, you didn’t stop it.

You let yourself collide. You let them hold you, and each time, you felt the reaction.

Fingers dug into your waist, tight, almost possessive. The kind of grip that lingered even after they let go, like they didn’t realize they were holding you that hard. You could feel the tremble in their hands beneath the surface of the water, their restraint stretched thin.

Warm palms slid down to the backs of your thighs when you drifted too close, subtle at first, until their grip firmed, fingertips pressing into soft skin like they needed to ground themselves or they’d lose control completely.

Every time your skin brushed theirs, muscles flexed beneath your touch. Chest to chest. Hip to hip. That raw tension in their bodies, coiled tight, told you more than words ever could.

Their voices betrayed them more than once.

Yeonjun’s laugh cracked mid-sentence, a little too high. Beomgyu mumbled something that dissolved into a groan. Taehyun kept clearing his throat like he was trying to chase the rasp out of his voice.

Kai’s gaze was the loudest of all.

His eyes kept darting down and away, pretending to admire the water, the sky, literally anything else, but every time he thought you wouldn’t notice, his gaze locked onto you, onto the wet fabric clinging to your chest, the beads of water sliding down your stomach, the plush curve of your thighs beneath the rippling waves.

He stared too long, then looked away too fast and then stared again like he couldn’t help it. None of them could. Your body wasn’t just in their space anymore. It was everywhere.

Wrapped around them, slick with salt and sun and barely covered in wet fabric. Floating between them, brushing against them, igniting every nerve like a live wire.

None of them knew what to do with themselves.

Yeonjun gave up pretending entirely, the pink tip of his tongue wetting his bottom lip as you floated into him, tits pressing into his bare chest. “You’re dangerous,” he muttered under his breath, but he didn’t let go.

Beomgyu lifted you halfway out of the water once—gripping your waist like it was second nature, only to drop you with a sudden splash like it would erase the moment. It didn’t.

Soobin didn’t touch you for the longest time, but then your hand reached out for his shoulder as a wave rocked you, and your body slipped slightly, legs brushing his under the surface, your hand sliding across his chest.

He caught you.

Of course he did.

You slipped, just enough for it to matter, and Soobin’s arms were already there before you even called out. One strong hand clamped around your waist, the other steady at the small of your back, keeping you afloat like your body was made of something precious. Fragile. Dangerous.

His grip wasn’t hesitant. It was firm. Anchoring. His fingers splayed wide across your skin, pressing into the dip of your waist where the curve began, thumb brushing just under the edge of your bikini top, like he didn’t know or didn’t care how high he’d gone.

And then…his eyes met yours.

Chest to chest, water lapping between your bodies, the distance between your mouths was barely a breath.

Your lips parted.

His did too.

The tension between you snapped taut like a bowstring drawn too far. Every cell in your body felt aware, too aware, of his closeness. The heat of his breath mixing with yours. The tremble in his fingertips. The way his pupils were blown wide, drunk on adrenaline or desire or both.

“You okay?” he asked. His voice was rough.

Not because he meant it to be but because he couldn’t help it. You nodded, slowly. “Yeah.” But neither of you moved.

Your lips hovered too close. The kind of closeness that made your heart stutter and your breath catch. The kind that felt like gravity, like inevitability. Like if either of you so much as swayed, you’d kiss.

All of them saw

Yeonjun froze mid-step, jaw clenching as his gaze locked onto the space between your mouths. Beomgyu stopped laughing. His smirk faded into something unreadable, darker. Taehyun stood utterly still, his shoulders tense, chest rising a little too sharply. Kai… Kai’s eyes widened, his expression flickering between fascination and something like jealousy.

The tension wasn’t silent anymore. It wasn’t subtle. It was loud in its stillness. It demanded attention. Thick and oppressive, like the sun had dropped closer to the earth just to watch.

And all you had to do was keep floating. Keep pretending your chest wasn’t pressed to his. That your thighs hadn’t slid over his lap under the water. That you didn’t feel his breath ghost across your cheek like a promise.

———-

Later, after the sun had dipped lower in the sky and your skin was still warm from salt and heat, you stood at the edge of the beach, towel in hand, brushing off the sand that clung to your thighs.

Soobin watched you.

From behind his sunglasses, half-reclined on a chair he hadn’t moved from in nearly thirty minutes, he just… stared. Not distractedly. Not casually. With intent. With weight. Like he was trying to memorize every inch of you now that the water no longer distorted your shape now that the wet fabric clung tighter, outlining everything the waves had once hidden.

He didn’t flinch when you caught him.

You arched an eyebrow, smirking to yourself, and bent to shake out your towel. A playful flick of your wrist, your hips tilting just slightly, ass angled back as you gave the damp cloth a snap in the breeze.

That’s when you heard it..

A sharp, sudden cough.

You straightened and turned. Soobin had definitely choked. His hand hovered in front of his mouth, eyes wide behind dark lenses. His chest rose in a shallow breath, and his jaw tensed hard enough to tick.

“You okay?” you asked, amused, slinging the towel over your shoulder.

He lowered his hand, slowly. Pulled his sunglasses down just enough for you to see his eyes. Dark, glossy, burning with something he hadn’t yet said out loud.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you?” he rasped. You blinked. Caught off guard. “I… just bought the wrong size.”

Your voice was soft. Honest. Almost shy. Soobin’s smile in response was anything but innocent. It curled up slow, like it knew something.

“That’s the problem,” he murmured.

There it was. The tension you thought had peaked earlier? It surged again, hot and electric, crawling up your spine, settling low in your belly. The way he said it wasn’t teasing, but a confession.

That’s the problem.

That you didn’t know what you were doing. That you didn’t mean to drive them crazy, but you were. That your softness, your skin, your shape, the stretch of that little bikini, they’d been suffering through it all day.

Now? Now it was starting to show.

———-

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, staining the sky in soft oranges and dusky pinks. Shadows stretched long over the sand as the day’s heat clung stubbornly to your skin, sticking grains of salt and sunscreen to your thighs. Everything smelled like summer, warm skin, coconut lotion, and the fading tang of the ocean breeze.

Everyone was sun-dazed and loose-limbed, voices slower, laughter easier.

But the ease didn’t last.

The moment you all reached the van, parked just off the beach path, reality hit like a brick to the face.

The back was stuffed.

Coolers. Inflated floaties. A folding beach umbrella that no one managed to close properly. A stack of towels, bags of snacks, Beomgyu’s inexplicably large duffel bag full of God-knows-what. It looked less like a day trip and more like an emergency evacuation.

“There’s only five seats,” Yeonjun muttered, staring into the packed abyss like it had personally offended him.

Kai ducked his head into the back and grimaced. “Back seat’s stuffed to hell,” he confirmed. “There’s no room unless you wanna sit on the watermelon.”

You blinked. “Wait… so where am I supposed to sit?” Five pairs of eyes turned to you at once.

And something about that look, the shift, the tension that immediately snapped into place, made your stomach dip.

Like they’d all just been waiting for this moment. Then, in rapid succession:

“I’ve got space,” Yeonjun said quickly, patting his lap with exaggerated enthusiasm, eyes already gleaming with challenge.

“She can sit on me,” Beomgyu added, slinging his arm over the door frame with a cocky grin. “I’ve got excellent shock absorption. Certified.”

“No,” Soobin cut in, voice low and even. “She’ll be more comfortable here.” He shifted in his seat, spreading his knees just slightly. Subtle. Possessive. Certain.

Taehyun didn’t say much. Just reached for the seatbelt across his chest and unhooked it, already leaning over like he was expecting you to take the offer. “Come here,” he said simply, without looking at anyone else.

Kai on the other hand, he didn’t say a word. Just opened his arms wide from his spot in the middle row, eyes soft and pleading, like his lap was the most natural option. Like of course you’d sit there. Like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your gaze flicked between them.

All five.

All watching you.

The air suddenly felt heavier, hotter, thick with something that had been simmering under the surface for hours. Their gazes weren’t innocent anymore. Not after today. Not after the water. Not after the way you’d clung to them, touched them, let yourself float between their hands like you belonged there.

This wasn’t about who had space. This was about who got to touch you. Who got to feel your weight. Your thighs. Your chest pressing against them as the car jostled down the road.

You could see it in their eyes. Feel it in the way their bodies leaned forward, chests rising just a little faster than before.

“Any volunteers to sit in the trunk with Beomgyu’s flamingo float?” you joked weakly, trying to cut the tension.

No one laughed. They were waiting…for you.

You blinked at them all, stunned. “You guys…”

“We’re being practical,” Soobin said quickly, voice an octave too high to be convincing. “Weight distribution.”

You raised a brow, trying to bite back your laugh. “Right. Very scientific.” No one offered a better explanation.

And so, after a beat, after scanning the vehicle and their eager, barely restrained faces, you sighed and slid toward the middle seat. Soobin was already there, long legs spread slightly, seatbelt buckled and posture just stiff enough to suggest he was trying very, very hard to act unbothered.

You chose him because it felt like the safest option.

Or at least… it should have been.

At first.

You turned, easing your back toward him and bracing one hand on the seat for balance. Your bikini bottoms were still damp, clinging to your skin, the fabric snug where it hugged between your thighs. When you lowered yourself onto him, it wasn’t slow enough to avoid contact. It was too slow. Your hips met his with a soft, wet sound, skin meeting skin beneath the thin barrier of nylon.

You shifted. Just a little. Trying to balance. Your thighs spread slightly across his lap for stability, and you felt it instantly.

The hard ridge pressed between you. The tension in his muscles. The way his breath stuttered in his chest.

Soobin hissed through his teeth.

You froze.

“You okay?” you asked, half-turning to look at him over your shoulder.

He was trying. You could tell he was trying to keep it together. His jaw was clenched, shoulders stiff, and his hands, large and warm, hovered awkwardly at your waist. Not touching, not fully resting, just trembling slightly in place like he didn’t trust himself to move.

“Yeah,” he said, a little too fast. His voice was hoarse, cracking around the edges. “Mhm. Totally fine.”

He wasn’t fine. Not when you could feel his thighs tighten beneath you. You could hear the subtle catch in his breath every time you adjusted. You could sense how hard he was trying not to react.

The car door shut behind you, sealing the two of you in. The rest of the guys piled in around you—Kai and Beomgyu in the back, Taehyun sliding into the passenger seat, Yeonjun behind the wheel.

But Soobin didn’t move. Barely even let out a breath.

And when the car hit the first bump in the road, jolting your body down harder onto his lap, you felt it. That deep, involuntary groan in his chest he tried and failed to stifle.

———-

The van bumped along the uneven road, the hum of tires on gravel the only sound as conversation had long since dwindled into charged silence. The sun dipped lower outside the windows, casting the car in warm amber light, soft shadows flickering across your bare thighs as you shifted in Soobin’s lap.

You didn’t realize what had happened.

The thin fabric of your cover-up had ridden up when you climbed in, bunched beneath your ass and exposing more skin than you meant to. And your bikini top, still damp, still clinging, had started to loosen at the left strap. Not enough to notice right away. But just enough that, with each subtle bounce of the vehicle, the fabric tugged. Shifted. Slid.

The left strap slipped further.

And further.

And you didn’t notice.

But Soobin did.

He stiffened beneath you, hands suddenly flying to your waist, fingers gripping with sharp intensity. His breath hitched at your back.

“Wait…don’t move..” he said, low and urgent.

But it was too late.

You reached down toward the door pocket, the curve of your body folding forward, your spine brushing his chest. The motion pulled the front of your top downward, straining the already-too-small triangles of fabric.

Then-

The soft snap of tension giving way.

Air hit your skin.

Your left nipple slipped out. Just enough.

A delicate peek of darkened skin beneath the edge of your bikini top. A soft curve, unmistakable in shape and contrast. Briefly, heartbreakingly visible in the golden light through the windshield.

Yeonjun saw it first. He choked on his own spit.

“Cough—!”

He turned his head so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash, ears instantly flushed red. His hand slammed against the steering wheel like he’d just seen a crime.

Beomgyu… didn’t look away.

His jaw flexed, his fingers tightening into fists on his thighs. His eyes darkened. He adjusted his swim shorts with a jerk of his hand, shifting like he was uncomfortably hard now, and not even trying to hide it.

Kai looked like he was physically holding his breath, lips parted slightly, his entire body frozen mid-turn like he’d been about to speak but forgot how to.

And Taehyun, up in the front passenger seat? Completely still. Stiff shoulders. Straight spine. The only movement was the subtle clench of his hands on his knees.

But underneath you…

Soobin made a sound.

A low, desperate sound that was half groan, half gasp. It came from deep in his chest, raw and barely contained. You felt the vibration of it through your back, your hips, all the way down your thighs.

“What?” you asked, frowning, blinking in confusion as you glanced down-

-and then you saw it.

Your heart stuttered. Your breath left in a sharp rush. “Shit—!”

You scrambled to fix it, one arm flying up to cover your chest, the other tugging your top desperately back into place. But before you could reach-

Soobin’s hand caught your wrist. Big, warm fingers curling around your forearm. Your breath caught. You looked back at him over your shoulder.

His eyes were unreadable behind his sunglasses, but his lips were parted, cheeks flushed, throat working around a thick swallow. His grip didn’t ease, his other hand still trembling on your waist.

“Don’t,” he said, voice barely audible.

“It’s okay,” Soobin murmured, his breath hot against your shoulder. “Just… don’t panic.”

You turned your head slightly, barely able to hear him over the pounding of your own pulse. “Don’t panic?” you whispered, breathless, eyes wide. You were too aware of everything. Your wet skin, the thin bikini clinging to you, the eyes watching you from every angle.

But most of all… you felt him. His thighs shifted subtly beneath you, trying (and failing) to adjust. And that’s when you felt it.

Hard.

Thick.

Pressed right between your legs where your soaked bikini bottoms had molded to your heat like a second skin. There was no space left between you. Every movement, every breath, made it worse.

Or better.

“You’re driving them crazy,” he said, voice hushed and tight. Your head spun. “Not on purpose,” you whispered back.

“I know.”

And the way he said it…

His voice was lower now. Gravelly. Almost broken. Darker. “That’s the worst part.”

Your breath caught.

You looked down, cheeks burning as your shaking hands tugged your top back into place, hiding the slip of skin that had sent a shockwave through the car. But it was too late to take it back. The air had already changed. Thick and heavy, humid with tension. The windows were beginning to fog at the corners, clouding the outside world from view.

Inside the van, it felt like something feral was growing.

Beomgyu shifted in the back seat. His legs were spread wider now, elbows digging into his knees, head bowed low like he needed to concentrate just to breathe. Sweat glistened along his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard with each swallow.

Kai was openly staring at your thighs. His lip was caught between his teeth, bitten so hard it had turned red. His hands clenched into fists on either side of his seat, but his eyes never moved. He looked dazed. Desperate.

Yeonjun let his head fall back against the driver’s seat with a heavy thud and groaned. “We’re gonna need a cold shower after this,” he muttered to no one in particular, one hand adjusting himself beneath the steering wheel like he didn’t care who saw anymore.

Soobin wasn’t hovering anymore. His hands were on you. Firm.

Heavy palms cupping your hips like you were something delicate and breakable and already his. His thumbs brushed over the soft curve of your sides, just beneath the edge of your top, pressing possessively into your skin like he was branding the moment into memory.

He hadn’t let go since the wardrobe mishap.

And now, it was clear he didn’t intend to.

You sat perfectly still, your back pressed to his chest, your breathing shallow. You didn’t dare move again. Not with the way his fingers flexed just slightly every time your thighs shifted.

————-

The beach house was dimly lit, golden shadows stretching along the walls as the last of the sun sank behind the horizon. The air inside clung to your skin, thick with ocean humidity and heat still radiating from your post-shower body.

You towel-dried your hair slowly, warm droplets sliding down your bare shoulders. Everything felt soft and quiet. The kind of stillness that happens before something breaks.

You’d thrown on the only sleep set you’d packed, not realizing how bad how good the fit had become.

The tank top was cropped. Really cropped. The fabric was soft and thin, worn from washing, now hugging every curve of your chest. It clung to the swell of your breasts, dipping dangerously low and riding high, just brushing the lower edge of your underboob. You hadn’t packed a bra. The air in the house was cool enough for that to be obvious.

The shorts?

Even worse.

Stretchy. Breathable. Meant for lounging. But now they fit like a second skin, rising high on your waist and gripping your hips so tight the seam strained. The soft material framed the curve of your ass, the bottom hem barely visible under the fullness of your thighs. Every step made the fabric shift higher, and you kept tugging it down without realizing just how much attention that alone would draw.

You didn’t even hesitate when you padded barefoot down the hallway, still warm and clean and relaxed. You weren’t thinking about how you looked.

You didn’t know yet.

Until you walked into the living room. Everything stopped. The soft hum of a fan. The low buzz of someone’s phone. The murmur of whatever background show Beomgyu had turned on…

All of it cut out. Not because the sound stopped.

But because they did.

Yeonjun was on the arm of the couch, drink halfway to his mouth. It never made it. He froze completely, eyes dragging over your body. Slow, stunned, unreadable.

Beomgyu had been mid-laugh, something clever on his tongue, until he caught a glimpse of your bare stomach and how your shorts shifted with your step. His mouth stayed open, but no sound came out.

Kai looked up from his phone. Blinked once. Twice. Then again like he was short-circuiting, face flushed as his gaze zeroed in on your thighs and didn’t move.

Taehyun stiffened where he sat on the floor, remote in hand. His fingers twitched like he forgot what he was doing. His eyes locked on the outline of your nipples against the thin tank top, visible even in the soft lamplight.

Soobin had been standing in the kitchen doorway, sipping from a glass of water. The glass tilted, ice clinking. But his eyes never left you. His gaze dropped down the full length of your body and dragged back up with unforgiving slowness.

His grip on the glass tightened. Water dripped from the edge. He didn’t blink.

You stopped halfway into the room, towel still slung over your shoulder.

“…What?” you asked.

The word barely made it out of your mouth. The room was silent. Thick, hot, achingly still.

Yeonjun cleared his throat, but it didn’t help much. His voice came out low and rough, like it scraped the edge of his throat. “What’re you wearing?”

You blinked. “Pajamas.”

But when you glanced down at the soft stretch of your tank top clinging tight to your breasts, at the way your shorts hugged your hips and disappeared beneath the curve of your thighs, you suddenly understood.

Soobin’s jaw tensed visibly. “That’s not pajamas,” he said, voice quiet but razor sharp. “That’s… that’s barely anything.”

“I-it’s hot,” you said, crossing your arms instinctively over your chest, but it only pressed your tits up higher. The thin fabric clung to your damp skin, and you were sure he could see the outline of your nipples through it.

“You’re not making it better,” Beomgyu muttered, dragging his hand down his face like it physically hurt to look at you. His eyes dipped low again anyway. He looked wrecked. Hair messy, lips parted, expression tight like he was holding something back and barely succeeding.

Kai shifted again on the couch and picked up a pillow—not for comfort, not really. He set it in his lap, then dropped his head back against the cushions with a quiet, frustrated groan.

Taehyun still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t blinked. He was staring at the spot where your shirt had ridden up just above your belly button, lips parted slightly like he couldn’t stop tracing your skin with his eyes.

You took a half step backward. “Are you seriously-? Guys. I just took a shower.”

“Yeah,” Yeonjun said slowly, eyes flicking up and down your body with a look that made your knees weak. “And now you’ve walked in here like that, and what- expected us to act normal?”

“I didn’t mean-”

Soobin stepped forward. Everything in you stilled. His body was close. Warm. Tall and quiet and buzzing with something heavy beneath the surface.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you?” he said. His voice wasn’t loud. It was low, almost gentle. But it sent a chill straight down your spine. You swallowed. Your chest rose with a shaky breath. “No. I really don’t.”

Soobin’s gaze dropped. Traced your curves, slowly. He looked at the way your top pressed into your chest, at the damp hair curling around your collarbone, at the bare skin between your thighs where your shorts had ridden up.

“Then I’ll tell you,” he murmured. You didn’t stop him.

“You walk in here like that,” he continued, voice like velvet soaked in heat, “wearing next to nothing, smelling like soap and salt and whatever lotion you just used, and you expect us to pretend we haven’t been dying to touch you all day?”

Your breath caught in your throat.

He reached out, hesitated, then rested one hand lightly on your hip. His fingers barely curled around the softness there.

“You’re making us crazy.”

Behind you, Beomgyu shifted, leaning forward. Kai’s voice was quiet. “Every time you moved, I could see the shape of your ass under those shorts. I had to sit with a pillow on my dick the entire ride home.”

Taehyun finally spoke. Voice low. Even. “You didn’t know what you were doing. But we did. We knew what this was.” You blinked at them, heart pounding in your chest.

Yeonjun stood, walking toward you with slow, careful steps, his gaze sharp and unreadable.

“But the question is,” he said softly, “what do you want to happen now?” You opened your mouth. No words came. Soobin’s hand tightened slightly on your hip.

Yeonjun stepped closer. Beomgyu’s knee brushed the back of your thigh as he leaned in, voice a whisper behind you.

“Because if you don’t want us to touch you…” His breath hit your ear.

“Say so now.”

Then Soobin moved behind you. Pressed his chest to your back. His lips brushed your ear.

“Let us touch you,” he murmured. “Please.”

And you… nodded.

———-

You didn’t say no. You didn’t say anything at all. That silence was everything they needed.

Soobin was the first to move.

His hand, already resting gently on your hip, thumb brushing the hem of your too-tight sleep shorts, began to slide lower. Slow. Careful. Like he didn’t want to startle you. Like you were something delicate and sacred.

He cupped the plush curve of your thigh, fingers spreading to feel just how thick and warm your skin was beneath his palm. His grip tightened, not rough, but firm, as if he needed to anchor himself there. Like letting go wasn’t an option.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice so low it nearly disappeared into the heat between you.

“I’m nervous,” you breathed.

He smiled against your shoulder. You didn’t see it, but you felt it. A quiet tug of his lips brushing your skin. His breath was warm, steady, grounding.

“We’ll take care of you,” he whispered. “Every inch.”

Behind you, the air shifted.

Beomgyu leaned in so close that his chest barely ghosted your back, and the heat of his breath fanned across the side of your neck. It made you shiver again, despite the warmth of the room.

Then his hands.

One slid around your waist, large and warm, settling on the soft swell of your belly, his thumb rubbing small, slow circles against your skin as if memorizing how you felt.

The other?

It moved higher. Up, up, lightly grazing over your ribs until his fingertips brushed the underside of your breast through the paper-thin tank top. You weren’t wearing a bra. He knew that. He’d known the moment you walked into the room. But now he could feel it.

His fingers traced the edge of your softness, reverent. Tempted. Barely touching, but worshiping with every inch of skin he could reach.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered, voice almost dazed. “So fucking soft.”

His hand splayed fully now, fingertips skimming the side of your breast, pressing just enough to feel the weight of it in his palm.

He wasn’t teasing. He sounded… awestruck.

Like he couldn’t believe he was finally touching you like this. Like you were real, and warm, and his fingers were allowed to explore everything he’d only ever imagined.

Soobin’s hand moved again, dragging upward from your thigh to your waist, where he met Beomgyu’s grip. His palm pressed flat against your belly, fingertips dipping beneath the hem of your tank top to stroke the skin there. His other hand traced the outside of your thigh, then slid back and cupped the underside of your ass, fingers digging in a little harder now.

“You’re trembling,” Soobin said again, voice deeper now. Beomgyu let out a breathy laugh against your ear.

“She likes it,” he said. “You like being touched like this, don’t you?” You nodded this time.

“Say it,” Yeonjun’s voice came from in front of you—lower, rougher, his eyes dark and fixed on where their hands touched your body. “We want to hear it.”

“I like it,” you whispered. “I—I like it.”

Taehyun stepped closer now. He’d been watching in silence, unmoving, unreadable, but now his eyes were hot, his lips parted. He ran two fingers along your arm, then up to your jaw, tilting your head so he could look into your eyes.

“Tell us if it’s too much,” he said quietly.

Your breath caught. “It’s not,” you said.

Kai’s hand joined the others next, brushing lightly over your hip, his touch feather-light but hungry, sliding around the dip of your waist as he bent low to press a kiss to the center of your back.

“We’ve wanted this,” he said. “We’ve wanted you.” Yeonjun stepped in next, cupping your jaw and tilting your face up toward his. “If you want to stop, say it now.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t. You just nodded, lips parted, body buzzing.

That was all it took.

Yeonjun’s mouth was on yours. Hot, slow, possessive. He kissed you like he owned the moment, like he’d been imagining this for years. And as soon as he pulled back, Kai’s lips were replacing his, gentler but no less desperate.

Their hands moved slowly at first.

Kai knelt in front of you, hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your sleep shorts higher and higher until his thumbs grazed your inner thighs.

Soobin slipped behind you, fingers teasing under the hem of your tank, skimming the base of your spine.

“Can I take this off?” he murmured against your shoulder.

You nodded.

He lifted the tank over your head, and the room went silent. Then Taehyun, still quiet, still intense, reached forward and ran his hand along the side of your bare breast.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

Beomgyu let out a breath like he’d been punched.

“You’ve been hiding this from us all day,” he muttered. “This fucking body.”

“Didn’t mean to,” you mumbled, cheeks hot.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Yeonjun said, leaning down to kiss along the curve of your neck. “You’re ours.”

Soobin’s hands moved to your chest, cupping your tits from behind, fingers rolling your nipples while Kai kissed lower down your belly, worshipping the softness, the way you curved under his hands.

Then his tongue met the waistband of your shorts.

“Please,” you breathed, voice already breaking. “Touch me.” Kai smiled up at you from between your legs, eyes half-lidded with hunger, his breath hot against your thighs.

“I was waiting for you to ask.”

His fingers curled into the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down slowly. Inch by inch. So slow it made you tremble. The elastic caught on the curve of your ass, then slipped down, exposing more of your soft, wet heat until you were completely bare in front of them.

“Holy shit,” Kai whispered, voice caught somewhere between awe and arousal. His eyes locked on your soaked cunt. Your folds glistening, twitching with need, already messy without a single touch.

“She’s soaked,” he murmured again, almost like he didn’t believe it. “Dripping down her fucking thighs.”

Beomgyu was already on his knees beside him, mouth parted, pupils blown wide. “Can I taste?” he asked, voice rasping, fingers twitching at his sides like he was holding himself back by sheer force.

Kai looked up at you. “You okay with that?”

“Please,” you begged, your voice wrecked. “I want all of you. I want-fuck, please.”

You felt Soobin’s hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly, turning you in his lap so your legs fell open over his. He held you there. Open, exposed, vulnerable and throbbing, your cunt bare and twitching just inches from Kai’s face.

“You’re gonna let us ruin you tonight,” Soobin whispered against your ear, voice trembling with restraint. “You understand that?”

You nodded, helpless and breathless. “Yes.” Then Kai’s mouth was on you. His tongue dragged up your slit, slow, flat, starving, and you cried out, back arching, hands flying to his hair.

He groaned into your cunt like he was dying, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue fast—wet, messy, relentless. The sound of it was obscene, every slurp echoing through the living room, filling your ears, making your toes curl.

And then Beomgyu joined him. Two mouths. Two tongues. One sliding lower. Fucking you open with deep, slow thrusts of his tongue, pressing into your hole like he couldn’t get deep enough. The other sucking your clit, lips swollen, nose buried in the wet between your thighs.

“Oh my fucking god—” you moaned, loud, raw, completely unraveling. Your knees jerked, thighs trembling, but Soobin’s hands kept you spread wide.

“Let them taste you,” he murmured, biting gently at your shoulder. “Be good and take it.”

You were good. You were falling apart.

Yeonjun stepped in front of you, cupping your cheeks, tilting your head up so your eyes met his. He kissed you hard. Tongue deep, fast, hungry, swallowing your moans as they ripped from your throat.

Taehyun stood behind Soobin, stroking himself slow, watching your body twitch and tremble in his hyung’s lap. “She looks so fucking pretty like this,” he said, voice low. “Look at her. She’s shaking.”

Kai moaned into you, tongue flicking over your clit fast and brutal while Beomgyu’s fingers replaced his tongue curling inside you, thick, relentless, pressing just right.

“Gyu—Kai—I’m gonna—” you choked out. Soobin kissed your temple. “Give it to them.”

You came with a scream, legs snapping around their heads, cunt clenching around Beomgyu’s fingers as Kai sucked your orgasm out of you like he’d been starving for it. You felt the drip of your release spill down between your thighs. You felt them lap it up.

And when you started to squirm, overstimulated, Kai just held your hips down and muttered against your pussy, “Not done yet.”

Beomgyu looked up, lips and chin soaked, eyes wild. “We haven’t even started.”

————

Moving into one of the bedrooms, they laid you down like you were something to be unwrapped. Treasured and ruined all at once. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets cool beneath your heated skin, and you barely had a chance to breathe before they were on you.

All of them hard, heavy with lust, eyes dark with the same hunger.

Soobin was already between your thighs, running the thick length of his cock along your folds slow and teasing, dragging through the slickness there like he owned you. “She’s so wet,” he growled, more to the others than to you. “She’s ready for it.”

Kai’s mouth was soft on your stomach, lips dragging up the line of your navel, his hands gripping your hips like he wanted to hold you still like he was already struggling to behave. “Please,” he whispered, his breath ghosting across your skin, “I want to be inside her so bad.”

Taehyun leaned in beside your ear, voice low and breath hot. “Let me go first. Just a taste.” His cock pressed against your thigh, twitching, leaking against your skin.

“No,” Soobin snapped. “She’s mine right now.”

He pushed in. Slow. Stretching you open around his thick cock until your back arched off the bed and your fingers scrambled at the sheets. The others watched, mesmerized, panting, jerking themselves slowly as they waited their turn. You swore you could hear Kai whimper. Taehyun bit his lip hard enough to bleed.

Soobin fucked you deep. So deep it felt like he was in your stomach, every inch of him thick and pulsing inside your soaked cunt. He wasn’t gentle. He didn’t ease you in or give you time to adjust. He wanted to feel you break around him. Wanted to feel your body give out from how hard he was using it.

His hips dragged back slowly, teasing your walls as his cock slid out with a slick, wet sound, then he slammed forward, the force of it jolting your entire body up the bed. You cried out, but he didn’t slow down. He just grunted, rough and low, holding your thighs wide apart, watching the way your pussy swallowed him whole over and over again.

“Fuck, look at that,” he growled, voice wrecked, sweat dripping from his jaw. “You’re soaked. You hear that?”

And you could. Every thrust filled the room with the obscene, squelching sound of your cunt clinging desperately to his cock. Wet and needy and messy.

The bedframe slammed against the wall with every brutal stroke. You felt the wood creak beneath you, the sheets already damp with sweat and slick and drool. Soobin’s hands kept you pinned down, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise because you were squirming, legs shaking, body trembling, and he didn’t want you to move an inch.

“You gonna cum already?” he sneered, bending over you, chest pressing to yours. “We just started, baby. You better hold it.”

But your body betrayed you. Your back arched off the bed. Your nails raked down his back. And when he shifted his angle, grinding the head of his cock against your sweet spot over and over, punishingly precise. You shattered.

Your orgasm ripped through you like lightning. Your vision went white. Your pussy clenched down so hard on him he snarled against your neck, biting down to muffle the sound. You felt yourself gush around him, slick pouring down your thighs.

But Soobin didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, kept pounding into your overstimulated cunt like he wanted to make you cry. And you did. Tears slipping down your cheeks as your body thrashed beneath him.

“So tight when you cum,” he breathed, watching your face twist in pleasure and pain. “Fuck-you were made for this.”

And then he pulled out slow, dragging every inch of himself from your dripping hole, and you barely had time to catch your breath before the next cock replaced his.

Taehyun was already in position. Cock thick, flushed, slick with precum. His chest heaved as he stared down at you, pupils blown wide with lust. He didn’t wait. Didn’t even pretend to give you time. He just shoved in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

Your scream tore through the room, but it melted into a whimper as his cock stretched your already-fucked pussy even more, pushing against the swollen, sensitive walls Soobin had just wrecked. He groaned, the sound raw and desperate, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders so he could drive even deeper.

“F-fuck,” Taehyun gasped, snapping his hips into you without mercy. “She’s still tight-how the fuck—?”

He sounded delirious. Ferocious. You felt his abs flex with every thrust as he bent over you, chest shining with sweat, the muscles in his arms trembling from how hard he was gripping you.

He didn’t ease up.

His cock slammed into you again and again, the head hitting your sweet spot like he knew exactly where it was. The way he moved was animalistic. Deep and punishing, his balls slapping against your ass wetly with each thrust. Your cunt squelched around him, loud, messy, soaking both of you, and he growled from the sensation, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck.

“Fuck—so warm—so fucking good—”

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t think. Your eyes rolled back, drool slipping down your cheek as Taehyun rutted into you like he was trying to fuck your soul out of your body.

Then you felt fingers in your hair.

Yeonjun.

He crouched behind you, fist pumping slowly along his shaft as his other hand curled into your scalp, lifting your head. Your mouth parted on instinct, lips wet and swollen, and he pressed the tip of his cock to your tongue.

“Open that pretty mouth,” he said, voice like silk over fire. “Let me in.”

You obeyed. Lips stretching, tongue out, welcoming him in as Taehyun fucked you from below.

Yeonjun slid into your mouth. Slow and teasing, until his cock pressed against the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, eyes watering, and he groaned deep in his chest, thumb brushing the corner of your lips as your mouth stretched wide around him.

“That’s it. Just like that,” he murmured, hips starting to roll as he face-fucked you in time with Taehyun’s brutal thrusts. “Use that throat, baby. Show me how much you want it.”

Your body was sandwiched. Taehyun’s cock slamming into your dripping pussy, Yeonjun’s sliding deep into your throat. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t moan. Your only sounds were muffled gags and the wet, obscene music of skin on skin, slick on slick.

Your arms flailed weakly, fingers clawing at the sheets, legs twitching around Taehyun’s shoulders. You were dizzy. Fucked out. Ruined.

But they weren’t done with you. Not even close.

Kai slipped between your legs while Taehyun pulled out, your pussy raw, gaping, still fluttering from the relentless pounding. Slick coated your thighs, shining on your skin, dripping into the ruined sheets below. You were barely coherent. Panting, shaking, tears streaked down your face, but Kai looked at you like you were the most fragile, beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He was the only one who hesitated.

He knelt there, cock hard and leaking against his stomach, fingers stroking your inner thighs with reverence. His voice trembled when he leaned in, mouth brushing your cheek, your jaw, your collarbone. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, breath hot against your skin. “I’ll be gentle, I promise…”

But your body was soaked, stretched, begging, and when he finally pressed in, his entire body shuddered.

“Fuck,” Kai gasped, burying himself inside you inch by inch. “You’re so warm. So fucking wet—shit—”

He paused once he was fully in, letting your walls squeeze around him, his forehead resting against yours. For a moment, you thought he might actually stay soft, sweet. But then your pussy clenched, instinctive and greedy, pulsing around his cock—and that fragile control snapped.

His hands suddenly gripped your hips tight, hard enough to bruise and he slammed into you. The sudden force knocked your breath out. Kai cursed again, louder this time, his voice breaking.

“I-I’m sorry,” he gasped, even as his hips snapped forward again and again. “I—fuck—I can’t stop—I need you—I need you so bad—”

The rhythm turned feral. No more gentle apologies. Just frantic, desperate thrusts. His cock drilling into your soaked, overstimulated cunt like he was trying to melt into you. The boy who always smiled, who always giggled shyly behind his hands, was gone.

This Kai was trembling. Sweating. Obsessed.

“Been dreaming of this,” he choked out, mouth dragging along your throat, your jaw, your lips. “Every fucking night—touching myself—thinking about how you’d sound, how you’d feel, how you’d taste—”

One hand slid under your thigh, hooking it up around his waist so he could thrust even deeper, angling perfectly to grind against your swollen, sensitive spot. You cried out, legs kicking, body jolting beneath him.

Your pussy clenched again. Tight, needy, and he snapped, fucking into you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“You’re mine now,” he hissed, voice shaking. “Mine. I don’t care who had you first—I’m gonna fuck you so full of me you’ll forget every other name.”

And you did.

Because all you could feel was Kai—his cock stretching you open, his body flush to yours, his hands everywhere, his voice breaking as he moaned and babbled into your skin.

His thrusts grew erratic, wild. Hips stuttering against you as he buried himself to the hilt, cock twitching deep inside your soaked cunt. His nails dug into your waist as his moans turned desperate, raw, needy.

“Fuck—fuck—I’m gonna—” he gasped, voice cracking, forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping onto your cheeks. “I’m gonna cum—inside—inside you—can I? Please—please let me—”

But he didn’t wait for an answer.

Your pussy clenched around him again, and that was it.

Kai let out a strangled cry somewhere between a whimper and a broken sob as his cock throbbed violently, and then he came. Hard.

You felt it.

Hot, thick spurts of cum flooded your already ruined pussy, shooting deep inside you with every twitch of his cock. He didn’t pull out. He pushed deeper, grinding into you, gasping as his seed spilled into your swollen walls.

“Shit—fuck—you’re taking all of it—fuck—” he babbled, watching your belly as if he could see himself filling you up.

You moaned beneath him, body shaking from the heat spreading through your core. His cum leaking out around his still-throbbing cock, dripping down your ass onto the sheets. But Kai didn’t stop moving. Even as he softened, he rocked his hips slowly, lazily fucking it deeper, making sure you didn’t waste a drop.

His hand slid down to your lower belly, pressing just slightly, watching your face twist in overstimulated bliss. “So full,” he whispered, eyes wide and dazed. “You’re so full of me, baby.”

Beomgyu was the last, but he didn’t rush.

He watched the whole time. Watched you get ruined. Watched your body go limp from overstimulation. Watched cum drip from your pussy in thick, creamy ropes (Kai’s, Taehyun’s, Soobin’s) all still inside you. Watched your lips swollen and glistening from Yeonjun fucking your throat raw. And the look on his face?

It wasn’t mercy. It was hunger.

He crawled up your body like a predator, one knee between your legs, one hand curling slowly around your throat. Not tight, not yet. Just enough to make you feel it. To remind you who was in control now.

“So used up,” Beomgyu murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “And you still want more.”

His cock was heavy and dripping, already slick from watching everything that came before. He didn’t line up right away. He just slapped it against your ruined, soaked cunt, watching your whole body jolt, watching more cum spill out of you from the impact. He rubbed the head through your folds slow and nasty, smearing the mess of the others across his shaft like it turned him on even more.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, tightening his grip on your throat just slightly. “Stretched. Gaping. Perfect.”

And then he pushed in deliberate, every inch dragged through the slick mess until his cock was buried inside you, thick and pulsing. Your body spasmed beneath him. Sensitive, broken, but still greedy.

You moaned. A cracked, breathless sound, and Beomgyu grinned. That cocky, dangerous grin.

“There it is,” he said, leaning closer, lips brushing yours but not kissing. “Still got noise left in you.” Then he snapped his hips forward hard and you screamed.

His cock drove into you deep and fast, merciless from the first thrust. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t slow. He fucked you like he had a point to prove. Like he wanted to brand himself into your body and erase every other touch before him.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

His hips pounded into yours, balls hitting your ass with filthy, wet sounds. His hand around your throat squeezed tighter, just enough to make your breath hitch, to make your eyes widen.

“You like this, don’t you?” he growled. “Being our fucktoy. Getting filled over and over again until you can’t even think.”

Your cunt pulsed around him violently, and Beomgyu groaned.

“You do. Fuck—you’re clenching around me like you’re about to cum already.” His other hand dropped to your thigh, pushing your legs open wider. “I want you to milk my cock, baby. I want you to squeeze every last drop out of me. You want that too, don’t you?”

You nodded, barely able to speak.

And he rewarded you by fucking harder, hips slamming into you with vicious speed, the bed shaking, headboard banging against the wall.

The overstimulation was unbearable. His cock dragging against every hypersensitive inch of your soaked, cum-filled cunt, thick veins catching on your walls as he drove in again and again. You cried out, a choked wail, tears spilling, legs trembling, body locking up.

But he didn’t stop.

“Take it,” Beomgyu hissed, panting against your neck. “Fucking take it.”

And you did.

Because your body had no choice.

————-

They took you again and again. Positions changed. Hands were everywhere. On your tits, your throat, gripping your thighs open. Tongues traced every inch of your skin. Someone had a hand on your clit the entire time, rubbing, teasing, punishing. They didn’t stop. They didn’t let you stop.

You were soaked, dripping onto the sheets, onto their cocks. Leaking every time one of them pulled out. Your voice broke. Your body trembled. Your orgasm hit so hard you blacked out for a second, but they kept going.

You didn’t know who was inside you anymore. Whose cock was fucking your throat. Whose fingers were bruising your hips.

But you knew one thing:

His weight pressed firmly into you, his chest hot against your own, the heat of his bare skin searing into you until there was no space left between your bodies, only breathless clinging and slick flesh. “Soobin—” your voice cracked on his name, your lips brushing against his ear in a trembling whisper, raw with desperation. “Harder.”

His response was a low, amused sound, the kind of cruel tenderness that made your stomach twist. “Harder?” he echoed softly, almost sweetly, though his hips answered first, snapping forward with a sharp, punishing thrust that had you gasping. His hands bracketed your head against the pillow, caging you in as his dark gaze pinned you beneath him. “My baby wants it harder, hmm?” His tone was dripping with mockery, with delight, as he slowed suddenly, rolling his hips in deliberate, languid circles, each drag torturous. He was teasing you, denying you, reveling in the way your body trembled and your voice broke as you tried to chase more.

Tears burned your eyes as you pleaded, your voice fraying with helpless need. “Please…” your whisper came out hoarse, barely more than a broken exhale. “Please fuck me harder.” That earned you a chuckle, low and wicked, vibrating through his chest. It wasn’t kind, no, it was the sound of a man savoring every ounce of your begging. His large hands slid down, fingers digging into your hips with bruising force before he shifted you, angling your body just so, and then drove into you with a merciless rhythm. The first thrust stole the air from your lungs in a single jagged gasp, a squeak tumbling out of your lips as your back arched off the bed. He gave you no reprieve. His pace was brutal, unrelenting, each stroke sending waves of heat crashing through you until your voice dissolved into broken cries. His breathing grew ragged to match yours, his jaw tight, his muscles straining with the sheer intensity of it. 

“My pretty baby,” Soobin hissed between clenched teeth, the words tumbling out like a growl. His hips never faltered, his relentless pace only making the bed groan beneath you. “So small, so perfect. I can’t wait until you’re swollen and round with my baby—fuck, you’ll look so beautiful like that.” The words slammed into you as hard as his thrusts, pulling a ragged moan from deep within your chest. Your body arched again, surrendering to him completely, offering yourself up to be filled, to be broken apart beneath the sheer weight of his desire. You couldn’t stop the sounds falling from your lips, couldn’t stop the way your body clung desperately to his, every part of you unraveling as you let him take what he wanted, however he wanted. 

His hands clamped back onto your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force before he yanked himself out in one rough, dizzying motion. You barely had time to gasp, let alone comprehend, before he was flipping you onto your stomach, your body jolting with the suddenness of it all. A sharp cry left your throat, but the sound was cut off as he shoved back into you with unyielding force, burying himself to the hilt as if he had never left. There was no moment to breathe, no chance to adjust, just the relentless fullness of him stretching you again, driving you into the mattress until your lungs burned. “Oh—fuck!” The word tore from your lips, ragged and loud, only to be muffled when his hand pressed firmly against the back of your head, forcing your face into the pillow. You clawed at the sheets, the pressure, the rhythm, everything overwhelming as he drove forward with merciless strength.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Soobin panted against the curve of your spine, his voice low and ragged, dripping with a promise that made your insides clench. His palm cracked sharply against your ass, the sting blooming into heat that made you whimper, your body jolting with the impact. He watched the recoil with a wicked grin tugging at his lips, the sight alone stoking his hunger. “Do you want that, baby? Do you want me to fill you up and put my kids inside you, mama?”

“Yes—yes,” the word broke from you in a desperate slur, muffled by the pillow beneath your mouth. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes.” Your hips weakly rolled back against him, searching for more, some shred of control, some fragment of dignity, but he denied you even that. His hand shoved your hips back down with ruthless force, pinning you to the mattress, holding you exactly where he wanted. His thrusts only grew harsher, faster, each one pounding the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but sob brokenly into the sheets. 

“Oh my god—” you cried out, your voice high, trembling, caught somewhere between a plea and a scream.

“Not god, sweetheart.” His laugh was cruel, rough in your ear, full of dark satisfaction. “Me.” His free hand tangled into your hair, yanking your head back until your mouth opened in a helpless gasp, his breath scorching the shell of your ear. “I’m the one making you feel like this.” He hissed, his voice low and commanding, his hips never faltering as they pounded into you with merciless precision. “Say it.” The demand seared against your skin as his grip tightened in your hair. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”  

“Y-you—” The words broke in pieces from your throat, tears streaking hot down your cheeks in helpless streams. Your fists twisted the sheets beneath you, knuckles white with strain as your body trembled under the weight of his rhythm. “You—”

“What’s my fucking name?” Soobin snarled, the sound sharp as his hand cracked against your ass again, the sting blossoming through your skin.

“S-Soobin—” you gasped, choking on his name, your voice raw with need. “Soobin.” Your chest heaved, your face flushed deep crimson as your core clenched tight around him. He pulled out only to slam back into you with brutal force, the impact stealing the air from your lungs all over again, leaving you whimpering and broken.

“Soobin?” His tone was mocking, cruel in its playfulness, each syllable dragged out like a taunt. His hips slowed just enough to make you shiver with frustration. “Not daddy?”

“Daddy!” The word spilled from you in a desperate sob, your head dropping against the mattress as your body bucked beneath him. “Oh my—daddy.” The title left your lips like a prayer, shaky, needy, unrestrained.

“That’s right, sweetheart…” His voice dropped, softer now, though the fire beneath it still burned. His palms smoothed down your trembling back, drawing lazy, soothing circles against your skin as if he could calm what he had set ablaze. “And soon—” his voice dipped lower, rough with promise, “I’m going to make you a mommy. You hear me? My pretty little mommy.”

Your breath hitched, your body tightening around him as the words pushed you closer to the edge, so close it was unbearable. “Mhm…” you whimpered, your voice breaking apart. “Gonna be… a-a mommy…” Soobin’s breathing grew heavier, each exhale harsher against the back of your neck as his grip on your hips turned vice-like. He drove into you with unrelenting force, dragging you with him toward the precipice, his body claiming yours with every merciless thrust.

Your words were nearly lost beneath the steady rhythm of his thrusts, each one jarring you further, unraveling you more and more until you were nothing but whimpers and broken syllables beneath him. The coil deep inside you wound tighter, unbearably taut, each drag of his cock pulling you closer to the inevitable. Soobin’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers sinking into your skin hard enough to bruise, his panting hot and ragged as it fell over the shell of your ear. “That’s it, baby. Say it again,” he hissed, his voice fraying with need. “Tell me what you’re gonna be for me.” 

“A-a mommy—” you cried, the words spilling from you helplessly, muffled by the pillow you buried your face into. “Gonna be a mommy, daddy—” That was all it took. A guttural growl tore from his throat as he fucked into you harder, deeper, with an intensity that left you clawing at the sheets, your nails tearing into the fabric. The air left your lungs in broken gasps as every stroke dragged your body closer to the edge, your vision blurring with tears as pleasure clawed through you. 

Your climax hit you like a wave crashing against rock, shattering through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your voice cracking, your body convulsing beneath him as your walls fluttered and clenched desperately around his cock. Your vision went white-hot, your mind blank but for the sensation of him, stretching you, filling you, consuming you. “So fucking tight—” Soobin snarled, his thrusts growing reckless as he chased his own release, your spasming body only spurring him on. “Take it, baby. Take it all.” His voice dropped to a broken groan, his pace frantic as he buried himself deep one final time. 

You felt it then, his release flooding into you, hot and overwhelming, spilling deep inside until it was all you could feel. His hips stuttered against you as his body trembled with the force of it, his chest pressing hard against your back, his breath ragged and harsh in your ear. “Mine,” he groaned, his teeth grazing your skin as he held you flush against him, refusing to let you go. “My baby, my sweet fucking girl, gonna make you round and full of me.” 

Your body trembled violently, still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your walls fluttering weakly around him as you gasped for air. You collapsed into the mattress, boneless and shaking, his weight a heavy, grounding presence on top of you. And still, even as the haze of release lingered, he soothed his palms along your trembling spine, slow circles pressed into your damp skin, whispering low promises into your ear. “So good for me, sweetheart… so perfect. You’re mine. Always mine.” 

you never thought marriage would taste this sweet.

a year had passed since the two of you tied the knot, and not a single day had gone by without his hands on your skin, without your lips on his, without your body aching for him. most people said the passion would fade after the honeymoon, that routine would dull the fire, but it only seemed to burn hotter the longer you were together.

you weren’t just lovers. you were addicts. both of you.

it didn’t matter where you were or who was around—when the heat hit, you both found a way to release it. on the elevator to your apartment, pressed against the mirrored wall with soobin's hand covering your mouth to silence your moans. in the restroom of an upscale restaurant, your dress bunched up around your waist, legs trembling as he whispered filth into your ear while fucking you senseless against the sink. on your balcony at night, the wind carrying the scent of sex through the city, your knees bruising against the railing as he held you in place. at the beach, with the tide lapping at your ankles, his fingers inside you under the stars. in the backseat of your car, windows fogged up, your panties hanging from the rearview mirror by the time you were done. and then there was his office.

soobin was the editor-in-chief of one of the most renowned publishing houses in the country. prestigious, respected, calm under pressure. nobody would suspect that the man in that pristine tailored suit spent half of his lunch breaks buried between your thighs.

it always started the same way.

you’d text him something simple—are you free to eat together today?—and he’d reply with a time. never a word more than needed, not over messages. he liked it clean on the outside. so you’d walk into the lobby with your bag in one hand and a shy smile on your lips, nodding politely at the receptionist, who recognized you instantly. she’d give you that usual knowing glance, and you’d just giggle to yourself, acting like you weren’t about to get wrecked on the top floor.

his office was spacious, framed by tall windows and lined with bookshelves. his desk was always organized, the glass surface spotless—until you came in. the second he locked the door behind you, he turned into someone else entirely.

“took you long enough,” he murmured that day, voice thick with restraint as he pulled you in by the wrist.

“you said twelve-thirty,” you teased, your breath catching as he pressed you against the inside of the door, lips brushing your throat. “i’m right on time.”

“mm,” he hummed, dragging your coat from your shoulders with one hand, the other already slipping beneath your skirt. “that’s cute. thinking you get to play innocent.”

you gasped when his fingers met your bare heat, your thighs already sticky, aching, pulsing for him.

“no panties?” he chuckled darkly, dipping a finger between your folds. “what would the board say if they knew their editor’s wife walked into the building dripping like this?”

“they’d say it’s your fault,” you whispered, tilting your head to give him more access, already trembling when he started circling your clit slowly. “you make me like this.”

“that’s right,” he growled.

he dragged you away from the door, lifting you effortlessly onto his desk, scattering a few papers in the process. he shoved your skirt up to your hips, kneeling between your legs without hesitation. the cold glass pressed against your skin, contrasting the warmth of his breath as he kissed your inner thighs, teasing, licking, biting. then his tongue found your center, and you arched your back with a broken moan, one hand flying to grip the edge of the desk while the other threaded through his dark hair.

he always made you feel like this—unraveled, ruined, adored.

his tongue moved with practiced precision, licking you open as if you were his only purpose in life, savoring every twitch of your hips, every breathless cry. when your thighs started shaking, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “come on, baby. give it to me. i want to taste you.”

and you did. hard. moaning his name like a prayer, thighs clamping around his head as you came on his tongue.

he didn’t stop there.

before your body could recover, he stood up and unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate movements, eyes locked on yours, filled with hunger. his cock was already hard, thick, leaking as he stroked it once, twice, while stepping closer. he didn’t ask. didn’t need to. you were already spreading your legs wider for him.

he slid into you in one smooth, deep thrust, swallowing your gasp with a kiss.

“fuck—” he breathed against your mouth, voice strained. “you’re so tight. always so good for me.”

you clung to him, arms around his neck, nails digging into his back through the fabric of his shirt. he fucked you slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him, the way you whimpered every time his hips rolled into yours. but it didn’t stay slow for long.

“you think i don’t know what you do?” he grunted, thrusting harder, faster, his desk creaking beneath the rhythm. “you walk in here all sweet and quiet, but you’re just begging to be used.”

“yes,” you cried, breathless. “yes, soobin—please, harder—”

he gave it to you.

his pace turned punishing, relentless, fucking you into the desk so hard you could barely think. you could hear your slickness every time he drove into you, could feel the tension coiling in your belly all over again, already close to a second climax.

he brought his hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit until your vision blurred, until your moans echoed through the room.

“come for me again,” he ordered, jaw clenched. “want to feel you squeeze me while i fill you up.”

you came again, harder this time, your whole body convulsing around him as you sobbed his name, and seconds later, he buried himself deep and groaned as he spilled inside you, warm and thick, making you gasp at the sensation.

neither of you moved for a while.

his forehead rested against yours, both of you panting, still trembling from the high. he kissed you softly, this time slower, gentler, like the man everyone else knew.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered with a smile.

“you started it,” you replied, smiling back.

he chuckled, pulling out with a groan, helping you adjust your clothes before tucking himself back in and fixing his tie like nothing happened.

you straightened your skirt, kissed his cheek, and headed for the door.

“same time tomorrow?” you teased.

his eyes darkened.

“count on it.”

people would say it was just the honeymoon phase. a spark that would eventually die out.

“give it a few months,” they said. “you’ll settle down. you’ll calm down.” but they didn’t know you. they didn’t know soobin.

because a year into your marriage, the fire hadn’t dulled—it had grown. hotter. deeper. more desperate.

you craved him constantly, and he wanted you like he needed you to breathe. it didn’t matter how many times he’d had you the night before—when morning came, his hands were already wandering beneath the sheets. sometimes you barely made it out of bed before he was fucking you into the mattress, your sleepy moans muffled by the pillow as he thrusted into you from behind. and when breakfast was over, when the dishes were still in the sink, he’d pull you onto the kitchen counter and eat you out until your legs went numb, just because he missed the taste.

when you both came home from work, it didn’t matter how exhausted you were—he always kissed you like it was the first time, always touched you like he’d been starving all day. in the shower, you’d grind against each other under the hot water until one of you caved. on the couch after dinner, he’d have you straddling his lap, his hands under your shirt, his cock pressed between your thighs. even when you were both tucked into bed, skin warm and clean, he’d still reach for you in the dark, whispering soft, filthy things against your shoulder until you were whimpering for him again.

sometimes, in the middle of the night, you’d wake up to find his hand already between your legs, his mouth on your chest, his cock hard and ready against your hip.

but nothing compared to how needy he got when you dressed up.

you’d gone to dinner with his parents that evening. the restaurant was elegant, quiet, candle-lit. you wore a dress he hadn’t seen before—tight, black, hugging your body like it was made for you. it stopped just above the knee, a subtle slit climbing up one thigh. you knew the second he saw you walk out of the bedroom that you were in trouble.

he didn’t touch you during dinner. not once. but his eyes never left you. his hand stayed clenched on his thigh under the table, his jaw tense, his smile too tight whenever someone complimented the way you looked.

and the second you stepped out of the restaurant and slid into the backseat of the car, he lost it.

you barely had time to buckle your seatbelt before he reached over and unfastened it again.

“soobin?” you blinked at him, surprised.

he didn’t answer. just climbed over you, slammed the door shut, and pushed you back against the seat, his lips crashing into yours like he’d been holding it in for hours.

“fuck,” he hissed against your mouth, his hands already tugging your dress up your thighs. “you wore this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“i thought it looked pretty,” you breathed, gasping when his fingers found the edge of your panties and yanked them down without hesitation.

“you looked like a fucking dream,” he growled, kissing down your neck, biting your shoulder through the strap of your dress. “do you know how hard it was to sit across from you and pretend i wasn’t dying to fuck you under the table?”

you moaned when his fingers slipped between your legs, already coated in your arousal.

“you’re so wet already,” he muttered, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit. “does dressing like that for me turn you on, baby?”

“yes,” you whimpered. “you looked so good in that suit, hubby. wanted to jump you the whole time.”

he groaned, cock twitching in his slacks at the sound of the word.

“say that again.”

you bit your lip, arching your hips into his hand. “my sexy husband. my baby. always so handsome.”

“fuck, baby, i’m gonna ruin you,” he grunted, already undoing his belt, freeing his cock with a breathless hiss.

he was hard, thick, leaking, and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly while he growled under his breath.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding you down onto the seat. “turn around. get on your knees for me.”

you obeyed, heart pounding, body trembling with need. the soft leather dug into your skin as you leaned forward, dress bunched up around your waist, bare for him.

he gripped your hips and shoved into you in one swift, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt and making you cry out.

“god—soobin—!”

“shhh,” he murmured, leaning over your back, pressing kisses to your spine. “you want them to hear, baby? the valet’s still outside.”

you whimpered, biting your fist to muffle your sounds, and he started moving—deep, rough thrusts that had the entire car rocking.

he held your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you harder, faster, his cock slamming into your sweet spot over and over until tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“mine,” he growled. “my pretty wife. you love this, don’t you? love getting fucked like this by your husband. so desperate for my cock you couldn’t wait till we got home.”

“yes—yes, please—don’t stop—”

he reached around to rub your clit, fast and messy, and you broke with a cry, your whole body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you.

but he didn’t stop.

“so fucking tight when you come,” he panted, slamming into you harder, chasing his own release. “gonna fill you up, baby. you want that?”

“yes, hubby—fill me up, please—need you—”

he groaned, buried himself deep, and spilled inside you with a shudder, hot and thick, making you tremble all over again.

you collapsed onto the seat, both of you panting, his cum already dripping down your thighs.

after a few moments, he kissed your lower back and helped you fix your dress, his hands gentle, voice softer now.

“you okay, baby?”

“never better,” you whispered with a lazy smile, reaching back to squeeze his hand. “think your parents noticed we left too fast?”

he laughed, pulling you into his lap for a kiss.

“they probably think we’re still in the honeymoon phase.”

you grinned against his lips.

“good. let them.”

you didn’t always mean to take it that far.

sometimes, the need just crept up slowly—starting with a brush of hands, a glance too long, the way his voice dropped when he leaned in to whisper in your ear. but with soobin, it was never just harmless teasing. not when the fire between you burned this deep, this fast, this endlessly.

the worst was when you were supposed to behave.

you were at a gallery opening, invited as a couple by one of soobin’s publishing partners. the space was sleek, minimalist, dimly lit with soft instrumental music echoing through the marble hallways. guests murmured about brushstrokes and contrast, sipping champagne, admiring modern pieces as if they understood them. you should’ve been focused. polite. engaged.

but all you could think about was the way soobin’s hand kept pressing low against your back, the way his lips brushed your temple every time he leaned in to comment on a piece, the way he looked in that black turtleneck and tailored slacks—quiet, elegant, composed. and the way his cock pressed against his thigh when he caught you watching him with that soft, hungry gaze of yours.

you lasted an hour. maybe less.

“you look stunning,” he murmured while you both stood in front of an abstract canvas, his fingers ghosting over the inside of your wrist.

“so do you,” you whispered back, stepping closer.

“i can’t stop thinking about the way you looked last night.”

“baby,” you warned in a low voice, heart fluttering.

“i can’t stop thinking about how tight you were. how you moaned for me.”

you swallowed, thighs clenching.

so when he found a quiet corridor tucked behind the private wing of the gallery, with large velvet curtains shielding the entrance and barely any foot traffic, you didn’t even hesitate when he took your hand and pulled you in with him.

the space was dark and unused, some storage room filled with rolled canvases and crates, dimly lit by a dusty lamp on a side table. you barely had time to glance around before he pulled you onto his lap on an old velvet loveseat, your dress riding up your thighs as he guided you to straddle him.

“here?” you breathed, heart racing, but already grinding against him.

he cupped your ass and pulled you down flush against his cock. “shh, just for a little. i promise i’ll be quiet if you will.”

you kissed him hard, needing him more than you cared to admit.

you fumbled with his belt, both of you breathless, frantic, silent laughter shaking your shoulders as you tried not to giggle while exposing him in the middle of the damn gallery. when you finally pulled him free, hard and hot in your hand, you didn’t hesitate. you lifted your hips, pushed your soaked panties aside, and sank down onto him in one smooth, aching motion.

you bit your lip hard to keep from gasping, forehead falling to his shoulder as you took him in completely, your walls stretching, pulsing, wrapping around him perfectly.

“god, baby,” he whispered, voice trembling. “you’re always so tight for me. always so wet.”

“i missed you,” you whispered back, starting to move slowly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you rolled your hips in slow, fluid waves. “i know it’s only been a few hours but… i missed you so much.”

his hands slid beneath your dress, gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm, helping you ride him deeper, slower, harder. every time you rocked down, you could feel his cock hit that spot that made you tremble, made your eyes flutter shut.

his head fell back against the wall as he watched you move—so beautiful, flushed, glowing under the low light. his perfect wife, riding his cock like it was her god-given purpose.

“fuck,” he whispered, jaw tight. “you’re gonna make me come so fast like this, baby. you feel too good.”

you leaned in, kissing his lips sweetly before whispering into his mouth, “then come with me. come inside me, love. fill me up. again.”

he groaned, desperate now, thrusting up into you as you bounced on his lap, your movements sloppy and fast, your moans barely restrained against his neck. you were close—so close—the tension in your belly winding tight, heat blooming between your legs as you chased your second high of the day.

and then he grabbed your face gently with one hand, the other still gripping your ass, and looked at you with that softness that always broke you.

“i’ll never get tired of you,” he whispered. “never. not your voice, not your body, not your mouth, not your moans. i’ll crave you forever, baby.”

you whined, overwhelmed, heart racing, body trembling.

“i love you,” you breathed. “you know that, right? i love you so much, soobin.”

“i love you more,” he said, and then you both broke at the same time—his warmth filling you deep as your walls clenched around him, your cries caught in the hollow of his throat, your nails raking down his back as you trembled in his arms.

you stayed there for a while, still joined, breathing each other in, hearts beating fast and in sync. you nuzzled into his neck as he stroked your back slowly, reverently, his softening cock still buried inside you.

and in that quiet little hidden room, beneath dim lights and forgotten paintings, you both made a silent vow without needing to speak it aloud:

to never tire of each other. to never stop touching, loving, needing. to crave, devour, and worship until your last breath.

✦ • ── FEBRUARY 28, 2025. 7:30 AM (DAY 3)

When you woke on Friday morning, Reina was already up. That was so unnatural that you half-expected the sun to rise in the west, too. Concerned, you threw off your duvet and shuffled into the corridor in your pyjamas, tentatively checking if she hadn’t been possessed.

She hadn’t.

You found her packing, which, for Reina, meant turning every surface of her bedroom into a right mountain of clothes. Eager for her weekend at the lake house with Soobin, she’d clearly been up since all kinds of ungodly hours.

Three suitcases stood guard in front of the door, so you lingered on the threshold and watched as her clothes spilt from her dresser. If you hadn’t been so horrified, you might have considered filing an insurance claim for storm damage.

Reina, naturally, looked radiant amidst the chaos. One knee braced on the edge of the bed, she tugged ferociously at the zip of her duffel bag as though the sheer force of her will would convince it to close.

“Um,” you said delicately, as though approaching a wild animal.

Her head whipped up, and she grinned, wide-eyed and a little manic.

“Oh!” She let go, and the bag sprang open. “Shit—sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” you said, reaching instinctively to steady the wobbling tower of clothes on one of the suitcases. “D’you need a hand?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. Well—” She exhaled. “Coffee?”

You folded a stack of tops into something less precarious and nodded.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ve also got a stapler, if you need it.”

She snorted, rubbing her aching palms against her leggings, then abandoned the duffel bag to forge a path across the floor, scattering stray socks after herself.

The kitchen was another sort of disaster.

There wasn’t even a sliver of counter space left: Yeonjun’s freesias had turned the flat into a fragrant, pastel-coloured orangery. The only clear spot was around your new kettle, which, spectacularly, switched on right after your click (unlike its predecessor, which had needed both patience and prayer to work).

A minute later, Reina padded in, hair falling from her braids. Though she’d seen the bouquets yesterday, she froze at the sight of them again, half-convinced they’d grown overnight.

“Right then,” she said, stretching carefully for the cupboard. “Wasn’t going to say anything, but, uh, I can’t get to the mugs, so… the flowers?”

She gestured at them, as though hoping they’d take the hint and shuffle out of her way.

“Oh.” You pushed off the table and moved one of the vases to the floor to give her room. “Yeah, um—”

“Your grandad alright?” she cut in, eyes narrowing with sudden concern. Although your grandfather had never needed a reason to send you flowers, this seemed a bit excessive.

The kettle—brilliant not just at doing its job, but at taking social cues, too—clicked off. With a crooked smile, you accepted the mugs that she had wrestled from the cupboard and headed back to the counter.

“He’s okay,” you said. “It’s, uh—it’s a bit of a long story.”

Her eyebrows rose. “It is?”

You spooned coffee into each mug with unnecessary precision. “Yeah, um—maybe I’ll explain after the weekend. That okay?”

Reina’s surprise deepened. She remembered you telling her that you needed to go home this weekend, but she remained unsure whether she should’ve been worried about that.

“Alright,” she said. “Everything’s okay, though?”

You caught the alarm in her tone and dug your teeth into your lip.

It was decided, then. You’d be a dung beetle in your next life. Yeonjun, of course, would be the dung.

“Yeah, of course,” you said, pouring the water and stirring slowly to prolong looking busy.

By the time you turned around, Reina had managed to settle at the table, carefully swinging one leg over the bouquet so as not to knock it over as she crossed her legs.

“Sorry,” you muttered and whispered a mental prayer for Yeonjun to restrain himself with the flowers or else you’d have to charge them rent, too.

Reina shook her head in quick dismissal, then shifted the petals aside so you could set down the mugs and sit opposite her.

Without hesitation, she took a sip of her drink and frowned, undoubtedly searing her tongue. She carried on, however, completely undeterred, which was a classic by now. You and Soobin had long suspected her mouth had no more living nerve endings.

“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” she asked, blowing on her coffee as though that could undo the damage.

“Not sure yet,” you said, glancing at the clock on the wall above the table. You almost hoped your grandparents would actually summon you, so you could both neutralise the lie and avoid seeing Yeonjun this weekend. “And you? Done packing?”

She huffed around her scalded tongue and nodded. “Yeah. Couldn’t convince Bin to skip class today, though.”

That brought a small smile to your face. “Surprised he’s got it in himself to resist you.”

She snorted, but didn’t argue. Few people in the world could resist her, really. Soobin competed with you for the last spot on that list.

“He insists I’ll regret it,” she explained. “I don’t see how. All we do on Fridays is stare at fucking slides.”

You risked a sip of your own coffee and found it slightly cooler by now. The coffee bag had claimed it had notes of caramel, but if it was ever really there, it must’ve dissolved in the water, because all you felt was the bitter roast.

“He’s probably right,” you said. “You do regret skipping when we have finals.”

‘Regret’ was a gentle way to put it. A few years ago, Reina had been prepared to turn back time by any means necessary. Spellwork was not beneath her (it never was). You’d already developed a habit of hiding all candles towards the end of the term.

“We’ll see,” she said, unconvinced. “Anyway—you’re back Sunday, yeah?”

You decided now was the time to start breakfast.

Fetching cereal from the cluttered windowsill—the only place in the kitchen, ironically, where the vases with flowers didn’t fit—you manoeuvred around the room to find bowls.

“Yeah,” you said. “Got a group project due Monday.”

Reina’s expression brightened.

“Oh, that’s right.” She grinned like she was about to reach the absolute peak of a sugar high. Perhaps all the caramel in the coffee had ended up in her mug. “With Luke.”

You pressed your lips, battling a smile. Reina had been campaigning since September to pair you with Luke, the Psychology student you shared the Digital Culture elective with. She’d once caught him reading Atwood in the library and immediately declared him your soulmate.

To be fair, Luke really did have excellent taste in books. And, inconveniently, great cheekbones, too. But he showed up to lectures less often than Yeonjun, so you didn’t get your hopes up.

“We’re meeting at the library to make slides on Sunday,” you said. “Not sure how that’ll go, since we’ve barely spoken. But, anyway, it shouldn’t take more than a few hours. So, if you’re free after, we could—”

“I’m free,” she said instantly, nodding with concerning eagerness.

Your smile cracked a little. “Great. We—we’ll catch up.”

Reina hummed, her mug pressed to her lips. She looked like she had a question loading, but held back at the last moment.

“Give your grandparents my best, by the way,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “In case I don’t see you again today.”

Your throat worked around a lump. “Yeah. Thanks, I will.”

She nodded, leaning her shoulder against the side of the fridge.

Then she noted, very curious, that the freesias—now that she felt the soft blossoms brushing against her arm—were not the same sort that your grandfather grew in his garden.

Huh.

✦ • ── FEBRUARY 28, 2025. 2 PM (DAY 3)

After your only class that day ended, you exchanged a dramatic farewell with Reina—all while Soobin moaned that the pair of you were acting as if she was being shipped off to war instead of leaving for a weekend trip. You held back from reminding him of the time he’d practically fallen to his knees on the sidewalk when Reina said she’d spend the weekend at your village.

Then you trudged to the library for your shift, the long week dragging after you. Friday afternoons were usually slow and quiet here, and you were almost grateful for the monotony.

But you’d barely dropped your bag on your desk when your phone vibrated in your pocket, successfully ending your peaceful afternoon before it even had a chance to begin.

YEONJUN [2:19 PM] plans for tonight i pick you up from work and we have dinner at that italian place named after the ratatouille guy ok?

You stared at the screen, absolutely gobsmacked that Yeonjun—Yeonjun—had asked if this was okay instead of issuing a decree. For a second, you considered refusing purely out of scientific curiosity.

Then you decided that positive reinforcements would probably serve you better in the long term—for the twelve remaining days of your game.

YOU [2:21 PM] yes to linguini but tell me we’re not driving laps around the city all night again

His reply arrived the moment you settled into your chair.

YEONJUN [2:22 PM] of course not we’re walking what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t remember my girlfriend’s preferences

Your lips curved before you allowed it, and you pressed them flat again. At least, you supposed, it wasn’t raining today.

YOU [2:23 PM] right ok

The three dots blinked on the screen. Absentmindedly, you lifted a stack of returns from the cart by your desk, held the books for a second, eyes on your phone, and placed them right back with no purpose whatsoever.

YEONJUN [2:25 PM] i’ll even come inside for you <3

Purpose found you again.

YOU [2:26 PM] not sure you can actually we have face control here

Noting that several people have entered the reading room, you set your phone down and stood to actually handle the returned books.

When you got back to your desk a few minutes later, Yeonjun was back to being his usual self.

YEONJUN [2:27 PM] i'm your boyfriend so i get special entrance privileges

YOU [2:30 PM] yes, through the window instead of the door

His reply came before you managed to sit back down.

YEONJUN [2:31 PM] you don’t think i’d climb in through the window for you?

Instinctively, you glanced at the tall windows by your desk, three floors up.

Rationally, you knew he was joking. But, of course, he was also insane.

YOU [2:32 PM] of the third floor?

YEONJUN [2:32 PM] yes? tf

You snorted despite yourself and spun once in your chair to shake it off.

YOU [2:33 PM] ok spiderman im sure there are better uses for your wall-climbing skills

YEONJUN [2:33 PM] there aren’t actually

Exhaling, you chose not to reply and dragged yourself closer to the desk, the wheels of the chair catching on the carpeted floors.

You turned on the desk computer and logged into the library database, noting, with disappointment, that you’d need to go down into the freezing archives again and locate twenty books for digitalisation. That was your least favourite task, purely because of how unbearably chilly it was underground.

You queued the list of literature for printing and picked up your phone. Yeonjun had sent several more texts, demanding your attention (complete with poignant exclamation points, of course). Shaking your head, you swivelled on the chair to stand—only to nearly jump out of your skin.

Eunji, your supervisor and friend—as much as supervisors could be friends—had materialised at your desk, grinning as if she’d just caught you smuggling books home.

“Boyfriend?” she asked, tilting her chin toward your phone.

You blinked down. “Oh—no. Definitely not.”

Her grin widened. Your own shrank in terror.

“Ah,” she said. “You were smiling, so I thought—”

“No, no,” you repeated, standing up from the desk in your insistence. Your eyes had grown twice in size, which Eunji found quite curious. “Definitely not a boyfriend. Honestly, barely even a friend.”

“Hmm.” She stepped back, looking decidedly like she hadn’t believed a word. “Alright. Well, let me know what time you want coffee, then. Heard there are doughnuts in the break room.”

You nodded gravely, grabbed the paper from the printer, and made for a tactical retreat for the stairs. The archives seemed very appealing all of a sudden.

✦ • ── FEBRUARY 28, 2025. 6 PM (DAY 3)

Four hours later, Yeonjun appeared in your section, scanning the titles on the French Philosophy shelves. Despite never setting foot in the library, he stood here now as if he owned it—legs parted, one hand shoved into the pocket of his dark coat, the other clutching, to your horror, another bouquet of freesias.

By the time you walked over to him, he’d reached Malebranche on the shelves. The Search After Truth looked, he thought, like it could kill five men with one thwack.

Hearing your steps, he straightened, a grin flicking on automatically. Then his gaze dipped, catching your rolled sleeves, your fitted blouse, the dark red skirt at your hips, the sheer line of your black tights, and his expression faltered. He physically felt his confidence hitch in his throat.

Blinking, he braced one hand against the shelf behind him.

This was absurd. He was far above being affected by clothes. Entirely above it, in fact. That was juvenile and—

You tugged your coat over your shoulders, the fabric snagging in your hair. Yeonjun had to bite his lip to keep from reaching over to help you with the collar.

“Hi,” you said finally.

“Hi.” He thrust the bouquet at you so abruptly that one freesia flopped over the edge of the paper wrap like it had fainted.

You adjusted the collar and threw the bouquet a long-suffering look. You still very much loved freesias, but at this point, Yeonjun was reducing the supply to a dangerous level. And you could’ve opened up a flower shop of your own.

“God,” you groaned, “what are you doing? I’ve no space left at home.”

Failing to see how that was a problem, Yeonjun lowered the bouquet. “Are you complaining I’m too good of a boyfriend?”

“I’m complaining you’re too much of a show-off.”

His earlier confidence returned to him in a fizz of fireworks.

“Oh, no.” His voice reached high and tragic, echoing dangerously between the shelves. “Poor me. My boyfriend insists on bringing me my favourite flowers before every date, whatever will I do to—”

“My boyfriend,” you cut in crisply, stepping closer to smother his theatrics, “has two weeks to prove he deserves to be my boyfriend. And he’s on thin ice.”

Oh, hearing you put it like that pleased him greatly. It implied he was on a trial period. Implied you might renew his contract.

“I apologise, love,” he said, extending the flowers. He noticed the whites of his knuckles on the crumpled paper and lightened his grip. “Please accept these freesias as a humble token of my—”

“Thank you.” You snatched them before he could layer on more flourish. “Please don’t get me any more humble tokens.”

Affronted, he frowned. “I will get you what I want to get you.”

Ignoring the indignation in his voice, you stared down at the bouquet. Despite your complaints, you did not look like you dreaded receiving it one bit.

“What am I supposed to do with them?” you asked.

“Cherish them,” Yeonjun said, “and think of me every time you look—”

“I meant tonight,” you cut in. “Right now.”

“Oh.” He blinked, belatedly recalling your plans. He figured he’d better look away from your skirt. “Well, I could carry them for you.”

That was a terrible idea, and your heart confirmed it by speeding up for no good reason. You decided to pretend he hadn’t spoken at all.

“Could leave them here, I guess,” you murmured, brushing a fingertip over the curve of one petal.

Yeonjun felt his gaze fix on the softness of your touch. He noted, sadly, that the ink had washed off your wrist. Unfortunately, the spider web on his neck had also given in underwater. He made a mental note to buy permanent markers. Perhaps a proper tattoo gun.

“Sure,” he said. “Just don’t forget them later.”

“Hmm.” Raising your head, you found the door of the break room open. “Back in one minute.”

He caught himself watching you walk off.

Then, grateful for that one minute, he returned to the shelves he’d been scanning to avoid staring at your back like some loser. No, he’d rather glance up intermittently and count down the seconds until you returned like a real man.

The break room, meanwhile, smelled, like always, of burnt coffee. After scouring the cupboards, you found an empty pickle jar, faintly green around the rim. It would have to do. You rinsed it several times at the tap, dropped the freesias inside, and left them awkwardly perched on the white counter.

When you turned, Eunji was standing in the doorway.

Flinching again, you began questioning when she’d developed this talent of catching you in the middle of something vaguely inappropriate—and why she always looked like Slenderman when she did, limbs fully stretched, lurking in the shadows.

Her eyes flitted from the jar to you. Then, she turned back to the reading room and located Yeonjun lingering by the shelves. When her gaze returned to you, you were already shaking your head.

She laughed and stepped further into the room to plug her charger into the socket by the coffee machine.

“Got some excellent barely-friends,” she murmured, amusement clear in her voice.

Parts of your skin burned as though feverish.

“Right.” You smiled awkwardly, brushing past her. “Yeah. Have a good rest of the night, yeah?”

“Mhmm. You too.”

You escaped before she could add anything else—and she really, really wanted to. Reina and Soobin had been the only ones who sometimes picked you up from the library; Eunji knew both of them very well by now.

But this one, she didn’t know.

And now she wondered what that classmate of yours—the one you always argued with during lectures—would think about someone else picking you up. Just from your stories alone, Eunji had suspected that there was something more beneath the surface. Perhaps she’d misinterpreted.

You found Yeonjun seated on the edge of your desk, thumbing through your work notebook, and yanked it out of his hands.

He looked up, eyes blazing in joy at the sight of you as though he’d read your diary and now could hardly wait to manipulate you for your secrets.

“Come on,” you said, shoving the notebook into your bag and ignoring the curve of his lips. “Let’s go.”

Obediently, he followed you into the grand staircase. He’d already seen the formidable stone walls and marble steps on his way up, but now he noticed the chandelier, looming high above, its light fractured across the darkened windows.

“So,” he said, sliding a hand down the polished bannister, “about our weekend, yeah? I’m thinking we leave Saturday morning, so we could have more time together.”

You sighed, but he thought it wasn’t quite as generous as your previous sighs. Perhaps he was imagining it.

“Right,” you said. “When we agreed on these ‘dates’—” you raised two fingers in air quotes, “—I assumed they’d be for a few hours.”

Yeonjun ignored your mocking hand gestures and scanned the burgundy tapestries on the walls of the staircase instead. The study rooms glowed faintly golden around you.

“Well,” he said, “you assumed wrong. We’re going on a trip.”

You groaned. He snickered.

“What?” he questioned, his tone infuriatingly relaxed. “I thought it was clear you’d be busy on weekends from the moment we agreed on the game. And it’s just a trip anyway. I’m not forcing you into an arranged marriage.”

Your hand smoothed the cold walls. “It’s almost as bad.”

“You and your dramatics, love,” he shot back with a snort. “We went on a trip last night, did we not?”

“Well, it hardly took up the whole weekend.”

“Nowhere in the rules does it say that our dates have time limits.”

You shoved your hands into your pockets, hip grazing the railing with each step down the stairs.

“You said no sabotaging,” you reminded him. “So I’m just trying not to unintentionally sabotage this if I’m stuck with you all weekend.”

Yeonjun stopped at the lobby and planted himself on the final step, forcing you to halt two steps above him.

“Alright,” he said. “We both know that’s a load of shit. So, come on, then. What’s the real problem about us going on a trip?”

You scrunched your nose, and he braced himself for the ten different flavours of humorous—and borderline aggressive—deflections you were undoubtedly about to throw at him.

You surprised him by slowly exhaling instead.

“It skews the whole game,” you said evenly. “We agreed on dates. A trip is not a date. It—it’s something else.”

Right away, you caught the flash in his eyes and accepted, because it was too late now, that you’d walked directly into his game of chess.

“Ah,” he observed. “You’re scared that if you spend too much consecutive time in my presence, you really will fall in love with me.”

Your expression immediately curdled into a grimace. Accusing you of being scared was a bright red button marked DO NOT PRESS, and he loved to press it every chance he got.

“I am not scared,” you said, and walked past him across the lobby.

“Then let’s go on a trip.”

“Not for the whole weekend,” you reiterated. “Make your trip a couple of hours long, and I’ll consider it.”

Pursing his lips in thought, Yeonjun pushed the tall glass doors open and gestured for you to go first.

The last night of February was, as expected, a sharp slap of cold over your skin. The wind bit at your cheeks and neck, then shivered eagerly down your spine. Above, the motion lights blinked on, catching a small brown dog as it skidded across the frosty grass in front of you, its reflector collar flashing at you. A man—the owner, you guessed—lurched after it, wheezing. They blurred down the quad and vanished.

Yeonjun studied your soft smile for a moment. Then he nodded at the bag on your shoulder.

“Still got my scarf there?” he asked.

You blinked at him. “Yes.”

“Put it on, then.”

Other than groaning—and calling him bossy under your breath—you didn’t put up much of a fight, and slipped your hand into the bag, fishing for the woollen material. You dragged the scarf out, then looped it around your neck, impressed, in spite of yourself, how it still smelled of his woody cologne despite being confined to your bag for a full day.

Finally, you shot him a look, asking if he was satisfied.

He wasn’t.

The scarf hung like a tired flag, barely covering your neck. He fought the urge to fix it because he didn’t know what else he might try to do if he stepped closer.

“Alright,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and stepping back. “How about this: we leave tomorrow morning, back in the evening. That alright?”

You forced your jaw to relax. “It’s better.”

“But,” he added, “that’s on the condition that you stay over.”

You stopped walking. The streetlamps behind him cast soft halos on the icy pavement. Most of the campus had already capitulated to the night, and it was just the two of you out on the street.

“Over where?” you asked slowly.

“My house.”

Furrowing your brows, you tightened the scarf around your throat, unknowingly easing his pain. The wool scratched faintly against your jaw, successfully overshadowing every other reflexive reaction your body had to his suggestion.

“I don’t think so,” you said, and stepped off the pavement to avoid a half-iced puddle.

Grinning, Yeonjun followed after you.

“S’the best compromise I can offer, love,” he said, voice dripping with the softness he only employed when he knew he was getting his way. “Got to meet me halfway.”

“Hardly a compromise, first of all—”

“I could stay at yours, then,” he cut through your second of all, “if my house isn’t good enough. Reckon we’d both fit into your bed just great. I love how tight and cramped it—”

“Yeonjun.”

The sound of his name almost stopped him short. “Yes, love?”

You were looking at him, he thought, like you weren’t sure if there was something wrong with him, and therefore couldn’t decide if making fun of him was ethical.

“None of us is staying over,” you said firmly.

“No,” he replied, slow and patient. “One of us is.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve shortened the duration of the trip for you,” he said. “And with Soobin and Reina gone, our places are empty. I figured my house is the better choice. But no offence, of course. I love how cosy and small your flat is. I just—”

“The more you talk,” you cut in, gripping the edge of his scarf, fingers tracing right over the gold stitching that spelt out Choi Yeonjun, “the more offensive you make it.”

He grinned again. “I’m just saying it’s your choice.”

Pressing your lips together, you stepped past him, your boots clicking against the stone.

At the corner of the street, a motorbike growled past. Yeonjun followed the driver with his gaze, almost wistful, except his eyes only remembered to sparkle when you spoke again.

“Look,” you said, “I’ve already agreed to that trip tomorrow. So let’s just go home after, and be done with it.”

“My house is home.”

Your groan turned into absurd laughter. Yeonjun swung the flaps of his coat at the sound—like a child showing off his superhero cape—and nearly skipped beside you on the pavement.

“Come on, I’m even letting you choose your own room,” he went on. “Mine, for example, has a brilliant faux-fur carpet. Very soft to walk on.”

“I can think of a few other uses for said carpet,” you mumbled.

His grin sharpened with unfathomable delight. “Yeah? I really like where your thoughts are going, love. You’ll love staying in my roo—”

“I’m not staying in your room.”

Finally, there was that warning on your face. The one that nearly pinned him to the trunk of the tree in the woods outside the camping grounds. The one that pushed him off your desk at your workshop.

His hands were practically shaking in excitement as the two of you turned the corner towards the restaurant.

“I’ve got two spare bedrooms, then,” he offered, always on top with the logistics. “You can take your pick.”

You breathed out a smoke of white. It took a moment to dissipate into the night air.

Staying over, you supposed, in separate parts of his house, was better than staying with him in the uncontrollable environment of a random hotel. Yeonjun would absolutely make sure the bathroom had glass walls or the room only had one bed, or something even worse, and then you’d have to kill him to get a good night’s sleep.

“Fine,” you said finally. “But I’ve got a presentation on Monday, so I need at least half of Sunday free. I sleep in your spare room, then I’m out. Immediately.”

Ignoring the parts of your agreement that didn’t fit the narrative he was creating in his head, Yeonjun managed to contain his triumph to a very respectable level and only skipped three times. Then he paused to wait until you finished rolling your eyes and caught up.

“Alright,” he said. “Half a Sunday, then. Sorted.”

“Great. Can’t wait.”

“Appreciate your enthusiasm, love.”

“I’m sure you do,” you said, turning away from his growing smile. “You look like the type to enjoy things that only exist in your head.”

“Compliments won’t get you out of spending the weekend with me.”

“I’ll try to find another way, then.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

As soon as the two of you crossed the street, you caught the first glimpses of other people: elderly couples drifting into Linguini’s, teenagers wheeling their bicycles off the kerb, headlights gliding into parking spots further down the road.

Yeonjun opened the restaurant door for you, and bowed his head—because he physically couldn’t be serious for longer than a minute.

You glared—because you physically couldn’t take him seriously for longer than a minute—and walked past him.

Inside, the restaurant was warm and smelled faintly of garlic. The small foyer glowed amber, the polished floors reflecting the light from the ceiling. Yeonjun gave his name to the hostess with the ease of someone who came here regularly. She smiled and beckoned a waiter.

That was, more or less, where Yeonjun’s attempts to refrain from touching you found their limit. He reached over and slipped your coat from your shoulders, hands lingering—absolutely intentionally—on your arms. Then he took off your scarf and hung it all on the rack.

“Thanks,” you said, and nodded for him to turn around so you could do the same.

Laughing, Yeonjun flipped around and shrugged off his coat with such force that you had to bend down to catch it before it fell to the floor.

“Very elegant,” you remarked and walked over to the rack to hang it over yours.

Yeonjun took this time to remind himself to keep his eyes on yours, and not someplace else: so, not on the stray piece of lint stuck to your tights, just above your knee. Or where the edge of your skirt brushed your thigh—

Alright, then.

“Yeah, I-I know,” he said, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair. Several strands fell stubbornly back across his forehead in a way that demanded your utmost attention. “Not easy having all this grace.”

“Right,” you snorted, “of course.”

Just then, the waiter cleared his throat behind you, waiting to lead you into the dining space.

The restaurant was curated to exude elegance: velvet chairs tucked to mahogany tables, imposing plants—all with leaves in brilliant, phthalo green—and a white piano stationed on a low platform at the back. Someone was playing a slow, treacly melody on it. You noticed Yeonjun wince faintly at the sound.

The waiter took you to a table by the window, half-hidden behind another towering plant that you couldn’t identify in the dim glow of a useless floor lamp—its light was more a suggestion than proper illumination. Muted conversations hummed softly around you, most voices belonging to people at least twice your age.

You realised, as the waiter handed you leather-bound menus, that you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been somewhere that didn’t make you scan a QR code.

“Nice here,” you said once the waiter walked away, leaving you to the gentle, albeit repetitive, piano music.

Yeonjun snorted across the table. He’d noticed how stiffly you’d lowered yourself into the chair after the waiter pulled it out—they didn’t typically do that here, he knew—and how carefully you balanced the menu in your hands.

“I know it’s pretentious,” he said, voice light enough to ease you properly into your seat. “It’s more my parents than me. But the food’s good.”

Humming, you scanned the appetisers. “You come here with your parents?”

“God, no. They come alone.” He flipped the page on his menu without looking up. “If I went anywhere with them, the awkward silence would finish me before the first course started.”

You pressed a finger to the page to hold your place and looked up. “What do you usually talk about, then?”

He shrugged.

“They talk about how I’m wasting my potential,” he said. “I just sit there and sing the SpongeBob theme song in my head.”

The image dragged a grin from you.

“Ever tried to find something in common?” you asked.

He rubbed the corner of his eye until the letters on the page blurred.

“Yeah,” he said. “For the first fifteen years of my life, I actually thought that maybe my parents weren’t so bad. Then Mum rolled out a ten-year plan: where I’d study, who I’d marry, which house I’d live in, what colour curtains I’d need, how many kids I’d have. Proper military strategy. And I thought, oh, okay. So I’m a hamster. No point trying to talk to her.”

You closed your menu, feeling the twitch in your brows but resisting the urge to react in any noticeable way.

“Right,” you said. “So, Mum calls the shots, then.”

“Mum calls the whole cavalry.”

“Love a woman who plans ahead.”

He snorted. “Yeah.”

The waiter returned—Edgar, his name tag declared; Yeonjun thought it a shit name like most others. He brought empty glasses and a jug of lemon water, took Yeonjun’s order, then turned to you.

After asking you to repeat your order twice, Edgar leaned in—leaned in! as if he had a death wish!—and suggested a dessert that he was sure “a lady of your beauty” would enjoy.

Yeonjun imagined a dozen anatomically impossible uses for Edgar’s head. You caught him rolling his eyes and refused dessert with a polite smile.

Once Edgar left—alive, for now—Yeonjun poured the water into your glass, focusing on not tipping all the lemon slices into it. He made no comment, which, he personally thought, was a sign of his maturity and self-control.

Then he sat down and nearly ripped off the handle of the jug.

“Thank you,” you said, taking a sip to control the entertained twitching of your mouth. “So, then, um—did your mum give you any freedom at all?”

He filled his own glass.

“Well,” he said, “she let me pick my own roommate.”

You raised your brows. “She didn’t pick Soobin? Now I’m shocked.”

He smiled into his glass. In the eyes of his parents—honestly, in the eyes of most people—Soobin had stepped down straight from heaven to save Yeonjun from the road to hell. (Really, Soobin sometimes threatened to become the reason Yeonjun would go to hell, but he let him keep the image).

“She didn’t pick him,” he said, “but she adores him. He’s from a respectable family. So you know.”

You nodded. You’d never met Soobin’s parents, but Reina had once called them “sweet, but a bit unusual.” That meant, as you’d later learn, that they stocked their house with anything their son’s girlfriend glanced at in the shops, regardless of the price. Soobin was always politely mortified.

“And doesn’t she trust you more?” you asked. “Since you clearly picked a great roommate?”

Yeonjun set down his glass and leaned back.

“Right, well, see,” he said, fingers fiddling with the edge of the table, “I might’ve traumatised him with stories about my parents before he met them for the first time, so, uh, he started to freak out. Changed his mind about going there. I suggested a glass to calm down, brought out my vintage Port. He finished the whole bottle. Showed up at my parents’ front door on his knees, head stuck in the sleeve of his jumper.”

You pressed your tongue against your teeth and coughed politely to cover up your laughter. “Mhmm. I see.”

Yeonjun snickered, too. He remembered yanking the jumper off Soobin’s head, tears burning his eyes from the effort of containing his laughter, while his parents watched, confused and a little frightened.

They thought, Yeonjun later realised, that their son had trafficked this drunk, lanky boy, and presented him to them like a cat bringing its owner dead birds.

“Yeah,” he said. “Obviously, my parents blamed me.”

Your smile waned. “W-Why’s that obvious?”

“Well, they’d already heard of Soobin’s family, so, naturally, they decided that he was an angel,” he paused to give you a hollow smile, “and I, of course, was the demon assigned to torment him. So, they cleaned him up, and when he sobered, they practically begged him not to abandon me.”

You tapped your fingers against the dark wood of the table. It occurred to you that you would’ve agreed with the assessment that Yeonjun was a demon just a few days ago. Now you’ve found it unfair.

“Hmm,” you said.

“Yeah. So, um, to answer your question,” he said, “no. There’s not a single thing I could do that would make my parents trust me to make my own choices.”

You swallowed, the words forming a tight knot in your throat. “That’s, um… not an easy way to live.”

He shrugged again—the casual dismissal he always employed when he accidentally let you in too close to the bruises. “It is what it is.”

It was what it was.

And he didn’t know it any other way.

You were surprised how decisively these short dismissals reverberated across your chest, and what a bitter aftertaste they left in your mouth.

But before you could consider replying, Edgar reappeared, balancing black stone plates on a tray. The aroma reached you first—garlic, butter, herbs—and then you saw the presentation: pasta curled into impossible spirals, cheese disciplined in the very middle, as though bewitched not to spill over the edges.

Wordlessly, you and Yeonjun both took your first bites, allowing for the delicate piano notes to fill the silence at your table.

“He’s dreadful,” Yeonjun said after a moment, shooting the pianist a look. “Whose bright idea was it to let him near a piano? His hands are clearly growing out of his ass.”

You lowered your fork, amused by the sudden spite in his tone.

“Do you play, then?” you asked, reaching for your water.

“No,” he said. “I mean, I can. I just don’t.”

You could faintly recall Beomgyu and Kai, both drunk, trying to force Yeonjun to join them at the piano at Taehyun’s birthday last year. You’d assumed it was a gag, based on how vehemently Yeonjun was refusing. Thought he’d just dreaded embarrassing himself in front of an audience.

Perhaps there was more to it.

You returned to your plate. “Why not?”

He twirled his fork through the fettuccine, eyes down. “Never had a reason.”

“You need a reason to play piano?”

“You need a reason for everything.”

You paused, chewing, and considered the look on his face. The sharp set of his mouth suggested a deeper reason.

“That’s not true, though,” you said slowly. “Sometimes we do things for no real reason. Out of habit. Or because it just feels nice.”

Yeonjun shook his head, slurping another mouthful.

“Playing the piano isn’t a habit for me. And—” he swallowed, “—I don’t know. I’ve never played because it felt nice. My parents forced me to. S’probably why.”

You noted the way he kept flinching imperceptibly now and then—like he could hear the wrong notes that the pianist couldn’t. It may not have been a habit for him, but he clearly knew music well.

“That’s fair,” you said gently, the garlic butter melting on your tongue. “But, um, if you change your mind, I’d like to hear you play.”

His gaze flicked up from his plate, sharp and suspicious.

“You’re just hoping you can make fun of how bad I am,” he said.

You lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug and continued to eat.

Snickering, he spun the noodles on his fork with less hostility at the godawful excuse of a melody.

“I’m excellent, actually,” he said. “Chopin would’ve named a nocturne in my honour if he’d been privileged to hear me play.”

Smiling—because, of course, Yeonjun was never simply good at something; no, he had to be the best—you took a moment to swallow your food.

“S’easy to say when you don’t play anymore,” you pointed out. “I’ve no way to decide for myself.”

Yeonjun chewed without really tasting anything. He realised he found it easier to imagine himself stripped bare before you than playing the piano for you.

Feeling his thoughts trip over themselves all of a sudden, he forced them to stop by watching the way the gleam of the floor lamp caught in your eyes every time you raised your head.

Finally, he swallowed.

“I’ll play you something,” he said. “One day.”

You paused with your fork mid-air. Then nodded.

This, you both realised, had skirted dangerously close to a promise.

And you wondered, as you chewed your noodles, whether the two of you would get to a point where he’d be obliged to keep it. You felt a little disappointed at the idea that you might not.

“So, uh,” Yeonjun said, oddly self-conscious now. “What about you, then? Has Reina met your family?”

You smiled in reflex, recalling the first holiday in your first semester when you’d taken Reina to your grandparents’ farm. She’d wanted to meet your cousins—she adored small children—and within an hour, she had all eight of them waddling after her like an enthusiastic gaggle of ducklings.

“She has,” you said, taking another bite. “All my younger cousins are in love with her. Even some of the cows are, I’m pretty sure. She’s an animal whisperer.”

“Ah.” He smirked. “No wonder Soobin loves her so much, then.”

One look at the stretch of his lips, and you were leaning back in your seat, hands pressed over your mouth. Yeonjun wasn’t sure he’d ever managed to make you laugh like this before, and the sound tugged his own smile wider.

He knew many jokes. And he was going to tell them all to you right this instant or—

“No, but—” you wheezed, hauling yourself upright again, “—she’s the one who had a crush on him for ages, though.”

Yeonjun blinked, instinctively leaning over the table as though pulled by the brightness in your eyes. He covered it up by taking a sip of his water.

“Did she?” He shook his head, answering his own question. “She couldn’t have. Bin’s been talking about her for years. Beomgyu and I even kept a tally of how many days he could go without saying her name. Record was three hours.”

You laughed again, warm and genuine and unguarded, and Yeonjun suddenly got the urge to roll up the sleeves of his sweater. Or perhaps peel it off altogether.

“I didn’t know that,” you admitted.

“Oh yeah, he’s obsessed,” he said, oblivious to the irony as he stared at your glittering eyes. “Reina was dating someone else when she started uni, wasn’t she? Because my man was fucking gutted.”

You pictured how Reina’s face would light up hearing this. Soobin likely never told her about how long his crush had lasted, or she would’ve shared it with you right away.

“She was, yeah,” you said. “But they weren’t—it wasn’t much of a relationship by then. More of an old habit.”

“Long-distance,” Yeonjun said, bringing the side of his fork over his empty plate, “if I remember correctly?”

You were surprised he remembered anything about this at all. Soobin must have really never shut up about Reina to him.

“Yeah,” you said. “Her ex stayed behind in their hometown after they finished school. She moved here. They tried, but, you know. They broke up at the start of our second year.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “Soobin was over the moon.”

“Oh, was he?” Your eyes were humorous, but your tone was edged with seriousness. “Because it still took him another two years to ask her out.”

Yeonjun nodded. He’d spent those two years kindly urging Soobin to ask her on a date, then calling him a big baby for moping in his room instead.

“In his defence,” he said, finishing his water, “Bin thought she only saw him as a friend.”

You had to concede his point. Even though they sometimes unintentionally made you trail behind like a forgotten third wheel, Reina and Soobin really were just friends at the time. Reina had made that abundantly clear every time she came home from Soobin’s place. You could tell she felt guilty about moving on too quickly.

“She did, yeah. But she wanted him to be more. We even had a—” You broke off. “Okay, no. Can’t tell you that.”

Yeonjun straightened in his seat, his lips parting. He waited for you to continue anyway, but you only grabbed a napkin and dabbed it against your lips.

“What?” he nudged.

“Nothing,” you said. “Forget it.”

“No, come on!” He leaned his elbows on the table, chin in his hands. “You can’t leave me hanging.”

“I can, actually.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“No—” Your protest caught in your throat when he darted his hands forward to catch yours as you set down the napkin.

“Please,” he said again, fingers wrapping firmly around yours. He glanced down. “Your hands are cold.”

You hadn’t realised they were, not until he squeezed them tighter, his warmth slowly seeping into your skin.

You stared at them for a moment. “Yeah, I—”

“But don’t get sidetracked,” he cut in, idly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Tell me what you had. Please.”

You closed your eyes before you could give him the PIN to your credit card. The piano supplied a rushing arpeggio, as eager as Yeonjun, but nowhere near as persuasive as his touch on your hands.

“Alright,” you said finally. “Alright. Since you’re begging.”

You shot him a necessary look that he accepted without the slightest hint of shame.

“But if you tell anyone—”

He leaned back a touch, pulling you a little deeper into the table. “Cross my heart, love.”

You drew in a breath. He eased back to give you space and rested his hands next to yours—still close enough for your thumbs to brush every time one of you moved.

“So, a while back,” you began, eyes fixed on the table, “actually, about a few months before Soobin finally got the guts to ask her out, Reina and I had some friends over. Girls’ night. And, uh, eventually, the conversation turned to relationships. We all knew Reina liked Soobin, so one of our friends, Mia, suggested we hold a ritual.”

Yeonjun’s eyes lit up as though you’d gifted him front-row tickets to all his dreams coming true.

“A ritual,” he echoed, tapping his fingers on the table, then resting his thumb over yours. “With spells?”

Wrinkling your nose at his eager tone, you considered retracting the whole thing right there. Reina had never hesitated to share the story with anyone who cared, and you’d heard Beomgyu and Nara retell it to Kai about a year back—it was almost campus lore by now—but you still felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t your story.

Then Yeonjun brought his palm over your right hand.

You kept talking.

“Yeah,” you said. “So, uh, it was the dead of winter, and we went searching for apricots—”

“Why apricots?”

“Because apricot pits bring love. Keep up.”

He grinned. “Right. Go on.”

“Right,” you said, inhaling deeply. “So, we found some at the eco-shop where another friend worked. And then, Mia, our resident witch, did some sort of a—well, she said she used the apricots to make juice. And then she brought the leftover pits for the, uh, ceremony.”

Yeonjun nodded, eyes glistening. You hadn’t moved your hand from under his.

“Nothing weird,” he commented. “Average Tuesday night for you.”

Your laughter slipped out, and the sound slid under his skin in a way no other sound could. His gaze stayed locked on you, unwilling to blink.

“So the first stage,” you continued, “was Reina drinking the juice and saying an incantation. That was just the name of the person she loved. She had to do it three times over a burning candle, while we all held hands in a circle, with apricot pits in our palms.”

Yeonjun’s smile spread helplessly. You were a witch, then. With a proper coven, and all.

He hoped you’d turn him into a frog.

“I’m afraid to ask what the second part of that ritual was,” he said.

“Oh,” you paused to laugh again, “we don’t know.”

His brows lifted. “You don’t?”

“No,” you said. “Because, see, about halfway into the ‘Soobin—Soobin—Soobin’, Reina started choking. Tongue began to catch on the ‘S’.”

Yeonjun widened his eyes, realising. “No.”

“Yeah.” You bit your lip. “That’s how we learned Reina’s allergic to apricots.”

He tossed his head back, mouth open, his chair nearly tipping back. “Oh my God.”

“We took her to the ER,” you continued, nodding. “The nurse asked why we were eating apricots in the middle of January. And Mia, completely straight-faced, said, ‘for love.’ They tested her blood, too, convinced she was high on something.”

At this, Yeonjun laughed so heartily that his lashes glazed with tears. You felt your own cheeks ache from the stretch of your smile.

“But—shit, though,” he managed, dabbing his eyes with his sleeve, “I mean, the ritual clearly worked, because they’re dating now.”

“Yeah,” you said, gaze flickering to your empty plate on the edge of the table. “Guess it did. Reina says that, if anything, it’s proof that not even the universe can stand between them.”

Yeonjun shook his head in delighted disbelief. “No, it—it really can’t. I just can’t believe you lot put a spell on Soobin. M’genuinely impressed.”

“I know,” you said, lips curving. “You’re sitting across from real magic.”

That broke both of you, and your wheezing ricocheted off the tables around you, loud enough to drown the piano. Several people turned around to give you disgusted looks. You collectively ignored them all and leaned over the table, closer to each other.

Edgar returned to collect your plates and give the two of you—really, only Yeonjun—a warning look of his own. You did not even look up, which pleased Yeonjun very much.

“What about you, then?” he asked once you were alone, his eyes bright with amusement. “Have you tried a spell to make your crush notice you?”

“Oh,” you shook your head, “you just want to know if I’ve had a crush on anyone.”

He smiled, returning his hands over yours even though he knew he’d already warmed them.

“I know you have,” he said. “Aside from the dickhead ex, I also overheard something once.”

You frowned. “What?”

He glanced at the window as if the memory would present itself in front of him like a rerun of an old film.

“This was about three, maybe four years ago,” he began, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Final years of undergrad. Outside Professor Kim’s class.”

You watched the ceiling tiles of the restaurant, trying to place the moment.

“You were with a group of girls in the corridor,” he recalled. “They were teasing you about something. Laughing. And you were, sort of, defending yourself. I didn’t catch everything, but it was about someone you found attractive.”

Heat skittered up your neck, wild and haphazard. You remembered immediately.

Yeonjun could tell you did; he saw your eyelashes flutter in a desperate attempt to conceal your terror. His grin widened.

“So then I walked out into the corridor,” he continued, revelling to have you off balance, “and your conversation stopped right away. You all looked at me. I said hi. Then one of your friends elbowed you in the ribs, and they all started giggling again.”

You traced the edge of the table with a fingertip, keeping your face deliberately blank, and said nothing.

Yeonjun was a cat nudging a glass off the shelf. “Any recollection of that?”

“Very vague.”

He pressed his forearms onto the table and rested his chin on the surface, his breath warming the top of your hand.

“What were you talking about?” he asked, watching you through his lashes.

Slowly, you shook your head, trying to invent something a bit more conventionally acceptable than the real story.

The real story, meanwhile, was this: one of the girls you’d been “giggling” with in that corridor had celebrated her birthday the night before. Originally, you’d planned to skip the party to prepare for a test, but then Reina fell ill. She’d been in charge of the cake, so you were forced to deliver it on her behalf. And then the girls wouldn’t let you leave.

One of them—you couldn’t even remember their names now—suggested a drinking game. You expected a light-hearted Never Have I Ever. Instead, they whipped out the most ridiculous version of Would You Rather that you’d ever encountered in your short career of campus parties.

You’d made sure to gulp down your drink before your turn, just to brace yourself, but the room was already unhinged.

Everyone was squealing.

You’d felt yourself growing very drunk.

So, in all fairness, it hadn’t really been you. It was the alcohol that had made the agonising choice between licking whipped cream off Beomgyu’s chest or chocolate syrup off Yeonjun’s neck.

You’d picked chocolate.

“It wasn’t anything,” you told Yeonjun now as the pianist struck a bright, theatrical chord across the restaurant. “The girls were just being silly.”

“About what?”

“Silly stuff.”

He grinned with impressive patience.

“If you won’t tell me,” he said, folding his arms, “I’m going to assume you were talking about me.”

You clicked your tongue. “You’re going to assume that anyway.”

“And you know my assumptions are always correct.”

You pulled your hands from the table and crossed your arms over your chest, mirroring his posture.

“Why are you even asking me anything, then?” you mumbled, keeping your gaze strategically on the side of the table. “If your assumptions—”

“Shit!” he exclaimed, nearly breathless with excitement. “You can’t even look at me. Wow. What were they teasing you about? What did you do?”

“Nothing. Move on. It was years ago.”

He did not move on.

“Have you got a shrine for me,” he guessed, “that they uncovered in your room?”

You finally looked at him so you could meet his grin with a glare.

“Yes,” you said flatly. “Right next to my ‘I love Yeonjun’ t-shirt collection.”

His eyes brightened even more, pleased and eager. Just a little predatory.

“You should just tell me, love,” he said. “I bet it’s nowhere near as bad as the things I’m imagining right now.”

He probably had a point. You were starting to worry that the more you resisted, the bigger this became. And that was absurd. It had been nothing more than a drinking game. You were drunk. It was nothing.

You sighed, still teetering on the edge of a crisis. Yeonjun sensed the weakening of your defences and leaned closer. You could hear his breathing pick up.

“We were at a party,” you said finally, “and they made me pick between you and Beomgyu.” You paused for a breath. Yeonjun was nearly sitting on the table at this point. “And I, apparently, picked you.”

His grin was a dangerous, wicked thing. “To do what?”

“To kill in your sleep.”

He barked out a laugh, then clapped his hands together.

“No!” he cried out, clearly giddy. “No, it had to be kinkier than that to still make you so flustered years later.”

Your response was immediate and not truthful at all. “I am not flustered.”

“You are, love,” he said, nodding with enough vigour to force his hair to fall into his eyes. “Tell me why.”

“I just did.”

“No, you didn’t. That was barely half of it.”

You pressed your lips and did not answer. You’d already confirmed what he suspected – he was the reason for the giggling. That was enough.

Still, Yeonjun watched you, waiting to see if the silence and the repetitive piano notes would break you.

They didn’t. He supposed he hadn’t truly expected they would.

“Okay, listen,” he decided. “It’s fine if you don’t tell me. I can find one of the girls you were giggling there with, and ask her instead.”

“They’re not in grad school with us.”

“But I bet they’re on Instagram.”

You studied him for a moment, not sure if he was bluffing.

He wasn’t. You could’ve threatened to kill him after giving him this information, and he would have handed you the gun.

“They probably don’t even remember this,” you pointed out.

“You want to risk it?” He picked his phone up from the table. “If they tell me, I’ll never let you live this down.”

“You won’t let me live this down anyway.”

He ducked his head to snicker, shoulders shaking, and only looked up when he’d forced himself back into composure. He wanted you to know that, no matter how excited he was, he was also entirely serious about this matter.

“No,” he said firmly. “Swear I’ll be respectful no matter what you picked to do with me, and not Beomgyu. Won’t even mention it again after tonight. But only if you’re the one who tells me what it was.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Actually swear it, then.”

He looked half-prepared to offer a blood oath, but you simply stretched out your hand, extending your pinky finger.

He stared at it for a moment, incredulous. A good five jokes about the childishness of the gesture—in contrast with the maturity of your conversation, of course—were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. He really wanted to know.

“I swear, love,” he said, linking his pinky with yours.

You pursed your lips and pulled back. “Alright.”

He leaned in. “Alright.”

“Alright,” you said again, looking away before the eagerness radiating off him could scorch you. “So, they gave me two options. One was whipped cream on Beomgyu.”

“Mhmm.”

“The other,” you paused long enough to make him fidget in his seat, “was chocolate syrup on you.”

Your gaze flickered to his for half a heartbeat. Yeonjun stared at you, completely still, like he’d swallowed a box of fireworks and now he was trying not to set them off.

“Which, um—” he cleared his throat, “which part of me?”

“Your neck,” you said. “You depraved little—”

His laughter exploded, loud enough to rattle the tableware.

You slumped into your chair, wishing the velvet upholstery would swallow you, and you’d teleport someplace nice instead. 10,000 metres underwater, for starters, for a nice tour of the Mariana Trench. You might stay and live there, too; why not?

It took Yeonjun a full minute to recover. Three years ago, he’d thought you wanted to slice his neck straight off. Now, he was grappling with the idea that there were other things you might have liked to do to him as well.

Ultimately, it was the memory of your touch as you drew that spider web across his neck last night that finally forced him back into the present. That hadn’t been chocolate syrup, of course, and you’d only touched him with your hands and not your mouth, but he still could not breathe.

When he looked at you again, there was something in his eyes that you’d never seen before.

Shifting in your seat, you threw a glance at the dark window.

“We should go,” you said, jerking your chin at the door, all your muscles clenched. “The hostess has been glaring at us for a solid ten minutes.”

A new crowd had trickled in; you could hear the clinking of their glasses. The wait staff circled you, well aware that your plates had been cleared a good while ago.

Yeonjun genuinely could not have cared less.

Although, to be fair, when the waiter—Edwin?—returned to suggest the dessert menu once more, Yeonjun’s mood did take a momentary plunge. But you waved off tiramisu, and his heart resumed its soaring.

“Alright,” he said finally. “We can go.”

You had assumed that would be sufficient to end your conversation.

You had assumed wrong.

Yeonjun shut the restaurant door behind you and, before he could even register the chill of the night on his face, he announced: “So. Chocolate on my neck, hmm? Can’t blame you. That does sound nice. Sticky, sure, but—”

“Well,” you interrupted loudly, “now that you know, you can start keeping your promise of never mentioning it again.”

“Let me gloat for a minute, love.”

“Yeonju—”

“This is definitely not as bad as the things I was imagining, by the way,” he said. “It’s actually far worse.”

Groaning, you tightened his scarf around your throat, nearly enough to choke yourself. “You have to remember I was—”

“How long did it take you to decide?” he cut in. You rolled your eyes, so he added hurriedly: “And don’t start making jokes, or I will never drop this. Be honest. How long before you picked me instead of Beomgyu?”

Loathing the day you’d set foot at that infernal party, you said: “Two, maybe three seconds.”

He finally looked away. There was a prominent spring in his step as he walked by your side, and it forced his left foot to slide across an icy puddle. In this state, he wouldn’t have noticed if he was sitting on his ass on the pavement.

“I think this might be the best day of my life,” he said, to no one in particular.

“That’s very sad, actually.”

“What was going through your mind when you picked me?” he asked, evidently choosing to ignore all your comments unless he specifically asked for them. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” you said, “that I don’t like whipped cream.”

“Not even for Beomgyu?” he pressed. “Not even to avoid being stuck with a bottle of chocolate syrup and me?”

“It’s a hypothetical situa—”

“Yeah! And you picked me in two, maybe three seconds!”

Another sigh passed your lips, and it only fuelled Yeonjun’s jubilation. You could already picture your bleak future: you’d cut off his pinky finger for breaking the promise, but his cheerful voice would still hound you until you finally moved to your underwater cave and spent the rest of your days cataloguing new species of fish.

“You’ve actually got no reason to let this get to your head,” you said—pointlessly so, since it already had. Even his hair seemed to glow in the light of this new information. “The question wasn’t fair. The scenarios were completely different.”

Yeonjun was surprised to find that this dampened his joy just a little bit.

“What if they were the same, then?” he suggested. “Chocolate in both cases. Which of us would you pick?”

“Neither.”

“It’s Would You Rather,” he insisted. “You’ve got to pick one.”

“Alright,” you said. “I’ve picked one.”

“Which one?”

“Not going to tell you.”

“You have to, it’s—”

“No, no,” you cut him off, growing smug, “I only had to pick. I don’t have to report back.”

The curve of your mouth was a sly echo of his. Yeonjun was certain your loopholes were unfair, but his thoughts were too scrambled to prove it.

“You have to tell me,” he pressed, forcing himself through the gap between you and the lamppost just so the pole wouldn’t split you. “It’s my birthday.”

You laughed, bright and incredulous. Yeonjun did not stop watching you for one moment.

“It is not your birthday,” you said.

“Feels like it is.”

You shook your head and tortured him further by not meeting his eyes.

“Come on, love,” he encouraged, his gaze unyielding.

You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat and tossed your head back against his scarf. “What do you want me to say, Yeonjun?”

“I want you to say that you would pick me in any universe, in any hypothetical situation, ad infinitum.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” you said. When you finally glanced at him, there was a soft shade of warmth in your gaze, and he discovered he might’ve left his lungs at the restaurant. “You’ve got eleven days left to convince me to say that.”

He turned away, his smile steadying into something firmer. As thrilled as he was to find out you hadn’t hated him nearly as much as you claimed three years ago, he wasn’t sure what that meant for the two of you now.

“Alright,” he said. “Fair enough. I can work with the time I’ve got.”

“It would help,” you suggested, “if you never brought that party up, by the way.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Your head snapped towards him, scandalised.

“You swore,” you hissed, your coat flaring out and slapping against his legs.

“I said after tonight, love,” he clarified, tapping the screen of his phone. “So I’ve still got a good two hours left.”

Groaning, you turned back ahead. “You’re going to make me run into oncoming traffic sometime this week.”

He snorted and reached out to capture the wind-tossed edge of your coat before it smacked him again. His hand grazed your back, then settled—warm and casual, if a little unsure—at your waist as the two of you walked back to campus.

“Come on,” he said, delighted that you hadn’t pushed him off. “I’m flattered about the party. And, if it makes you feel better, in an identical situation, I’d have also picked you.”

“Oh.” You laughed. “Instead of Beomgyu? Thank you. Means a lot.”

His arm tightened reflexively around your waist, and he laughed, too, easy and lighthearted. You felt him pull you closer as he walked—and then felt, more startlingly, that you didn’t mind.

“I meant,” he said, “instead of anyone else.”

“Why?” Your steps faltered before you caught yourself. “Don’t like whipped cream, either?”

“No,” he said simply. “I do.”

He left the words dangling between you, heavy with something he knew you wouldn’t tug on.

You crossed the road, moving in step as Yeonjun’s hand on your waist controlled your speed, and turned towards your house.

“Did you see our waiter watching us leave, by the way? Edgar.” He spat out the name like it was a curse. “Quite disappointed you haven’t given him your phone number, I bet.”

You had noticed Edgar lingering at your table, but you didn’t think of it as anything out of the ordinary.

“We both know he only spent so much time with us so we’d tip him better,” you said.

“The best tip you could’ve given him was your number.”

You pursed your lips, recalling Yeonjun’s dramatic grimacing. “I could have.”

He pulled gently on your coat, slowing your pace so much that it almost looked absurd. The wind carried a scuttle of dry leaves over the icy pavement next to you.

“Why didn’t you, then?” he asked, quieter now, almost entirely stripped of his earlier arrogance.

You kept your eyes forward. “I was on a date with someone else.”

His breath locked unceremoniously in his throat.

You probably meant the game, he thought. And of course, you were right, yes. You were dating him for two weeks. That was the deal.

Still, it wasn’t enough to settle his pulse now that you’d set it loose.

✦ • ── FEBRUARY 28, 2025. 11 PM (DAY 3)

When you reached your street, Yeonjun realised he hadn’t really stopped smiling since the restaurant. His cheeks ached, but it was proof that the night had been real. He figured he might regret the pain tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to care tonight.

At your building—the fifth-floor windows dark, the curtains drawn—you both pulled to an awkward halt.

You cleared your throat.

Yeonjun smiled. You tried to smile back.

Something prickled in the air. Maybe the upcoming rain.

“I’m really looking forward to the weekend,” he said, letting his hand slip, reluctantly, from your waist. It left a ghost of a print, and the breeze against your coat felt sharper.

“Where are we going, then?” you asked.

His smile tilted into mischief. “You’re not supposed to know.”

“Why not? I’m not a fan of surprises.”

“It’s not a surprise,” he said. “It’s just something that you’re not supposed to know, so you can be—”

“Surprised?”

“—excited when it happens,” he finished. “Otherwise, you’d waste all your excitement on waiting.”

“That’s not how it works,” you informed him.

Grinning, he leaned his shoulder against the column by the door.

“So, what time am I picking you up tomorrow?” he asked. “Rough estimate. When do you wake up on days off?”

Aware that he was deflecting, you sighed and glanced around the empty street. The curtains behind the ground-floor windows, right near the entrance, fluttered. Someone was awake.

“When do you want to leave?” you replied.

Yeonjun wanted to leave with you right now, in all fairness, and never come back.

Instead, he glanced at his phone.

“Around eight, maybe,” he said.

You gave him a blank look. “In the—in the evening?”

“No.”

The terror in your eyes made his grin brighten.

“Surely,” you said, “you don’t mean eight in the morning, then.”

“I do, love.”

You gave him a very demonstrative shake of your head.

“Well, then you’ve got to get tested, because there’s clearly something wrong with you,” you said, folding your arms as he laughed. “No normal person wakes up before eight on a Saturday.”

“Somehow,” he said, his gaze locked on your arms, “I expected you to be a morning person.”

“Amateur’s mistake. I’m very unpleasant in the mornings.”

“Oh, more than you are on the regular?”

“Try saying that to me before eight, and you’ll spend your weekend in the hospital.”

Laughing again, Yeonjun felt his heart begin to drum faster. It was getting ridiculous. Perhaps there really was a diagnosis for whatever he had.

“I’ve got to say,” he said, “I’m curious to try.”

“That was precisely what had killed the cat,” you said, “from what I’ve heard.”

The motion lights outside the entrance flickered out. Neither of you moved to switch them back on. The street remained dimly lit by the streetlights and your eyes.

“It’s a lesser-known fact,” Yeonjun countered, “that the satisfaction brought the cat back.”

“Did it?” You arched a brow. “You really want to try, then?”

He grinned so easily that you found yourself resisting a smile, too.

“Alright,” he said. “How’s nine?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Slightly better.”

“Will you manage that for me?” he asked, and then counted you down in his head:

Three, you cast your gaze at the sky, the whites of your eyes bright and clear in the dark of the night.

Two, you groaned and clicked your tongue, gaze shifting to the parked cars.

One, you returned your gaze to him.

“Fine,” you said. “For the sake of getting this over with.”

Keeping his smile contained (because he was very polite, and also he could feel his pulse in his mouth), Yeonjun pushed himself off the column. “That’s the spirit, love.”

You didn’t look thrilled—not that he expected you to—but you weren’t fighting him on this anymore, either. That was great, but he knew better than to call that a victory.

From then on, it was very easy, very natural, the way the two of you began to linger.

Yeonjun saw you reach for the keypad by the door, saw you pause with your hand on the handle. And your hesitation almost pleased him more than anything else that had happened tonight. Almost.

“Will you remember the flowers?” he asked.

You turned back to him. “Hm? Oh. Yeah, of course. I’ll bring them home.”

He nodded. Then nodded some more. Then he dropped his gaze before he started grinning like Pennywise’s long-lost cousin.

“Goodnight, Yeonjun,” you said.

His eyes returned to you.

“Goodnight, love,” he replied.

You stayed on the doorstep.

He did, too.

Then, in a moment that he didn’t plan, he leaned in and pressed his lips to your cheek—the kiss quick and warm on your soft skin. He pulled back before his heart stopped.

You felt him everywhere.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

Then he made the fatal mistake of noticing your lips part in reflex, the colour of your eyes darkening just a shade. And, oh, God, now his stomach had doubled in size and his heart had gone missing. Must’ve swallowed it whole.

“Yeah,” you said, nearly voiceless. “Right.”

You stared at each other for another suspended second. Then you nodded, finally entered the code, and slipped through the doors.

You stopped at the mailboxes, but didn’t remember to check yours. You realised you could still feel his lips on your cheek, and considered returning them to him. Surely, he couldn’t live without his lips.

Alright.

Okay.

One foot in front of the other, then.

Up on the fifth floor, your flat looked the same—the light bulb in your room still flickered, the sink was still filled with dirty plates—yet your chest felt oddly rearranged.

That was not good, of course. Not terminal yet, but certainly not good.

If you wanted to keep control, you thought as you kicked off your shoes in the corridor, you’d need support. Even if said support would suggest brain surgery.

You decided you’d tell Reina about Yeonjun and the bet right after she returned from her trip.

Everyone’s on the couch when you reach the common room. Heeseung and Soobin had controllers in their hands, playing some kind of fighting game on the TV while the others all watch— Beomgyu and Yeonjun bicker over a bowl of chips, while Taehyun ignores them the best he can while being seated in between them. Huening Kai sat cross-legged on the floor, his eyes swinging back and forth from his Nintendo Switch and his friends’ argument. Jay and Jake were chatting animatedly between themselves, Jake’s excited hands nearly knocking the controller out of Heeseung’s. Jungwon and Sunghoon sat adjacent to them on the loveseat, watching everything unfold in silence as if they were observing zoo animals.

At the sound of your voice, all conversation ceases, and everyone’s head snaps to your attention.

“…What?” one of them asks after a moment of silence.

“I think I’m homeless now. I don’t know, it’s kind of still up in the air.”

“What do you mean, you’re homeless?” Beomgyu echoes incredulously, “Did your dorm burn down or something?”

“I got kicked out.” You reveal, deadpan. “Can you fucking believe that? Remember what I told you guys about last week, with my roommate and her boyfriend? Somehow,I find her on our couch fucking some other guy, and it’s my fault that the cops got called. I wasn’t even the one who told her boyfriend!”

Huening Kai stares up at you in horror. “The cops?!”

“Someone in our building called in a noise complaint because they were screaming at each other, and she goes and tells both our RA and the police that it was me that was freaking out. And they believed her! I don’t know what other awful lies she was telling the RA about, but he served me eviction papers today. When there’s no space in any of the other dorms! Where am I supposed to sleep?! Outside on the street?!”

The boys all blink at you in disbelief.

“You could go back to stay with your parents, maybe?” Heeseung offers tentatively. His and Soobin’s video game characters stood motionless on the screen.

“They live too far away.” You grumble in despair. “It’d take me over an hour to get to and from campus.”

“That’s not too bad.” Beomgyu supplies with an awkward laugh. With Yeonjun distracted, he’s managed to hoard the chip bowl all to himself. “My older brother drives an hour just to get to work.”

“Then your brother’s a fucking masochist.” You hiss. “I’m not doing that to myself.”

“Are you sure there’s nowhere else for you to stay, at least for a little while? You should really talk to the dean, getting kicked out for something like that has got to be, like, illegal or something.” Jake adjusts his glasses. He only wears them when he’s comfortable with his frat brothers; something about how he doesn’t want the girls to think that he’s a nerd. (He is.)

“I did talk to the dean. Gosh, Jake, do you think I’m stupid or something?” You’re getting a little uncomfortable, standing awkwardly with your arms crossed while everyone else is sitting and staring at you. You quickly find a spot on the floor next to Huening, who wraps his arm around your shoulders comfortingly.

The two of you have been attached at the hip since you could walk, practically growing up together as your mothers were best friends. With no siblings of your own, Kai filled in the role of your protective older brother, his sisters your sisters. You’re the only reason Kai applied to university in the first place, and he’s the only reason why you spend so much time with his fraternity brothers. They even call you their “honorary brother”, especially Beomgyu because he knows how much you hate it.

Being in Kai’s embrace calms you down almost immediately, his warmth enveloping you like a thick fluffy blanket. Even sitting down he towers over you, but instead of making you uneasy it just makes you feel safe. Your gentle giant.

“Holy shit, you really are homeless.” Jungwon finally pipes up from the loveseat, snickering like it was funny. You think he might be high.

“What are you going to do?” Soobin asks you softly, expression laced with concern.

“Sleep in my car, I guess.” You lament, resting your head on Kai’s shoulder. “The dean said he’d ‘look into it’, whatever that means. Who knows how long that’ll take.”

“You can stay here.” Kai suddenly blurts out.

 The room is shocked into silence once again.

“No, she can’t.” Heeseung immediately responds, like it was obvious. It stings a little.

“What? Why not?” Kai gawks up at him in betrayal. “She’s here almost every day anyway, what’s the difference if she sleeps here too?”

“It’s against the rules.”

“Since when did you care about the rules?” Yeonjun guffaws. “You broke our new table dancing with a girl like, last week.”

“Yeah, and I’m still in deep shit with our sponsor over it! Listen, as president, whenever somebody gets caught doing something it’s me who gets their ass kicked. We’re getting extra inspections this semester ‘cos of that damn table, do you know how much shit I would be in if they caught a girl living in here?!”

Kai mumbles something that sounds an awfully lot like “Well, who’s fault is that?”, but either you misunderstood or Heeseung didn’t hear.

“I don’t see a problem with it.” Soobin defends, “Y/N has classes literally all day, so she’d hardly even be here. If worst comes to worst, we can always hide her under a mattress.”

“She can stay with me!” Kai adds brightly, eyes shining, “I have an extra closet she can use.”

“But you share a bedroom with Taehyun. There won’t be any room for me.” you mutter.

“He’s never home! He’s always out at the gym or with his girlfriend. You can take his side!”

“Hey?” Taehyun cuts in.

“I’m not sleeping in Taehyun’s bed, that’s gross! He’s fucked his girlfriend on that bed.”

“Then I’ll sleep on it, and you can take my bed!” Kai responds brightly, “…After washing the sheets.”

“Do I have a say in this?” Taehyun cuts in again.

You sigh as Yeonjun and Beomgyu erupt into loud laughter. “I’m so sorry Tyun, I don’t want to intrude on your space or anything—”

“No, I mean, I’m fine with it.” He replies passively. “I’ll just spend the nights at my girl’s place.”

“I— you are?!”

Heeseung looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm. “Can we vote? I say we vote.”

“I don’t care either way.” Sunghoon speaks for the first time. He seems just as high as Jungwon is.

“Kai’s right, she is here all the time. I don’t think it’ll make much difference.” Jake says.

Heeseung’s face droops. “This isn’t voting.”

“If everyone’s fine with it, then who cares?” Beomgyu nudges him. “If anything happens, tell ‘em it’s all Kai’s fault.”

Heeseung bites the inside of his cheek, silent for a long moment before surrendering. “…Fine. Fine. Sure, okay, whatever. Just— this is temporary, okay? Just until you get everything sorted out with your crazy ass roommate.”

Things don’t get sorted out with your roommate. At least, not as fast as you had hoped— one week turns to two, and then three, and far too quickly you realize that it’s been an entire month since your eviction and you haven’t heard a single thing from either the dean or your RA. You’ve reached out more than a few times, but the response is always the same; “We’re looking into it.”

The office stops answering your calls entirely around the two-month mark. Early on, when they asked you if you had found ‘emergency temporary housing,’ you sheepishly said yes, which clearly was enough for them to put your case on the backburner indefinitely. You let yourself believe that it’s just because of the midterms, and that things will get sorted out eventually. It’s for the sake of your mental health.

Meanwhile, life at the frat house falls into a strange routine. You wake up, get ready in the bathroom while the boys pound on the door and complain about you taking too long. Kai drives you to class and he picks you up afterwards, even though his football practice ends at 6:00 and you have classes until 8:30. Sometimes you spend time with everyone in the common room, but most nights you run straight upstairs to hog all the hot water before somebody starts whining. Kai gives you his bed just as he promised, migrating to take over Taehyun’s side of the bedroom himself. Sharing a space with him is natural and easy, reminding you of when you used to sleep over at his parents’ house all summer long as a kid. It’s kind of weird, giggling with him late into the night, playing video games together and watching your favorite childhood shows, being told that it was time to go home and that ‘home’ meant with him. Your relationship was never quite the same after you both hit puberty, your close and physically affectionate friendship suddenly swinging from cute and innocent to inappropriate. Your mother stopped letting you stay the night. Kai was no longer allowed to close his bedroom door when you hung out. His little sister asked you once if you were his girlfriend and looked confused when you tried to laugh it off.

By high school, you started to wonder if maybe your relationship with Kai really was inappropriate. Your first boyfriend threatened to punch him in the face on multiple occasions and then accused you of lying when you told him you were just friends.

You were just friends. Nothing more. Kai was like a brother to you; you’ve never felt anything for him other than familial affection… not since you were little, at least.

Maybe all the reminiscing was why the feelings were coming back after nearly twenty years.

You try to ignore it. You ignored how your heart skips when he makes you coffee in the morning. You ignored how he grinned when you latched onto him during a scary movie, and how the butterflies fluttering in your belly weren’t from fear. And you ignore how your entire body heats up when he walks into his— your? — bedroom with nothing but a towel slung low around his hips, steam still rising off his skin from the shower, his hair wet and hanging in his eyes. His face turns bright pink all the way up to the tips of his ears when he catches you staring, and you ignore how appetizing the bobbing of his Adam’s apple looked.

“You’re here early.” You point out stupidly, gripping onto your physics textbook like a life buoy. The house was supposed to be mostly empty for the rest of the night, finally quiet for once so you can study. Your laptop was open on your lap, notebooks open and miscellaneous papers strewn across your bedspread.

Kai squirms in place, looking everywhere except at you. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were in here!”

Your eyes trail down from his red face and thick neck to his broad chest, soaking in the way the excess shower water runs in rivulets down the curves of his muscles. Big, buff biceps and trim abs, flexing under your gaze— you swallow thickly and force yourself to look back down at your textbook.

You haven’t seen Kai shirtless since he was a scrawny teenager. Since when did he get so… big?

“What are you doing back?” You finally manage to make yourself say, though your voice gets stuck in your dry throat. “I thought you guys had a gig tonight.”

“The show’s been cancelled. Beomgyu got into a fight with the owner of the bar, again.  He wouldn’t let him turn the amps all the way up, and hyung said if he can’t play loud, he doesn’t want to play at all. I swear, he can be such a child sometimes!” Huening gets so lost in his frustration that he seems to forget that he’s practically naked—until his towel begins to loosen around his hips, sliding down to reveal his delicious v line. He scrambles to grab hold of it, the pink blush on his cheeks deepening to crimson red. “Can… can you turn around for a second? Or close your eyes…?”

Your stomach flips violently, unable to look away from Kai’s abdomen, and it takes you a moment to register what he said. Shooting straight up in your seat, you gawk, “You’re changing in here?!”

“All the bathrooms are taken.” He explains quietly, scratching his neck. “Sorry.”

“Just… wait?” you squeak. It’s not that you don’t want to move, it’s that you’re pretty sure you can’t. Like you might do something stupid if you do.

“Jake’s in there!” Kai responds in exasperation, his face even redder than before. You watch a droplet of water cascade down the broad planes of his pecs. “He’s gonna take fucking forever on his stupid hair! I don’t have time to wait around for him!”

You can’t stop staring at his twitching abs. They stare right back at you. “What about the other one? The one on the bottom floor?”

“That’s Soobin and Beomgyu’s.” Kai shudders in disgust. “You couldn’t pay me to go in there.”

“Well, what about— wait, what the hell is Jake doing fixing his hair? Are you guys going out?”

Kai looks oddly crestfallen as he answers, “Yeonjun’s throwing a party tonight. All the cheerleaders and their sororities are coming.”

“Tonight!? Was nobody going to bother to tell me?!”

“I thought you knew.” he muttered guiltily. “That’s why I assumed you weren’t home.”

Under normal circumstances, you absolutely would’ve run off at the notion of a frat party. You hate the crowds and the noise, and Kai doesn’t blame you— you’ve run off together from Yeonjun’s parties plenty of times before. But this particular party, the first one he’s thrown since you moved in… you feel oddly brotherly about it. Maybe it was because you were living in the frat house now, but for some strange reason you felt compelled to get up and get ready yourself. If all the boys were going to be there, you might as well be there too. Plus, it’s easier to pretend you don’t live here if you’re downstairs with everyone else instead of hiding in Kai and Taehyun’s bedroom.

Or maybe it was because the thought of Kai being surrounded by cheerleaders makes your stomach hurt. Either way, you do end up standing and getting dressed in your closet.

“Thanks for coming,” Kai calls out to you from the other side of the closet door. “I was scared I was gonna be down there all alone.”

“You wouldn’t be alone, Kai.” You respond, raking your fingers through your hair in a blind attempt to fix it.

“I don’t mean it literally, I mean— I mean I wouldn’t have any fun without you there. I hate not having you with me. It feels… wrong.”

“Sure you could. You’d have all those pretty, skinny little cheerleaders to hang out with.” You spit the word out like it’s venomous.

Kai sighs from behind the door, and you can perfectly imagine his face just from the countless number of times you’ve heard that exact sound. “I don’t care about skinny cheerleaders. I care about you.”

You want to say something, but you can’t find the words.

Frat bros and cheerleaders alike dance and mingle in the dark, red solo cups in their hands, the entire bottom floor packed full and thrumming with the beat of the music. While all the actual partying happens around you, you, Kai and a few of your new roommates huddle around the pool table in the corner of the common room. Beomgyu and Soobin were locked in an extremely serious one-on-one, Beomgyu losing horrifically while he whines and complains about all his failed attempts at wooing his coworker. When Kai had said party, he didn’t bother to specify that it would be a pity party. Though, while you would much rather be in your room listening to the beautiful sound of silence, you can’t help but find some sick enjoyment in Beomgyu’s misery. It sure made you feel a whole lot better about your own love life.

“I just don’t get it.” He sighs deeply, swishing his beer around like he was debating some deep philosophical theory. He takes a long swig from the bottle before handing it over to Soobin and leaning over to position his cue stick. “I’m hilarious, I’m a genius, and I’m smoking hot. Why is it so hard for me to get a girlfriend?!”

“A genius that has a D in his CompSci class.” Heeseung snorts somewhere behind your right shoulder.

“Maybe it’s because you’re a loser.” Soobin teases playfully, taking his own sip from Beomgyu’s beer as he watches him fail to score yet another point.  “And you have no game.”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Beomgyu retorts dryly, shoving the cue stick into his hand and snatching back his beer.

Taehyun snickers quietly, perched on a nearby barstool half watching the game and half texting on his phone. “I don’t know, hyung, have you tried just asking her out instead of following her around like a creep? She probably thinks you’re stalking her.”

“I bet he hasn’t even spoken to her.” Huening Kai giggles next to you, his arm slung casually around your waist. The fabric of his hoodie is soft against your cheek, a good place to rest your spinning head. Agreeing to throw back shots with Jake was a terrible idea, Kai pressing a cool glass of ice water against your forehead to keep you from vomiting all over him. You’re grateful you went with your favorite oversized hoodie, the soft worn fabric working like a shield to cover your insecurities. It’s harder to remember to suck in your stomach when you’re drunk.

It was a little past midnight, or maybe later, you stopped checking the time quite a while ago. Yeonjun’s stupid party has been in full swing for hours, with no sign of slowing down— Yeonjun himself was nowhere to be found, probably off somewhere with his sorority girl fanclub. That left the rest of you to fend for yourselves, wasting time until everyone finally decides to get up and leave. It was far too loud to even attempt going upstairs to sleep.

You hear the distinct clack of the cue stick, and the distinctive thumps of the balls falling into the pool table’s pockets. Beomgyu groans loudly and dramatically, drowning out Soobin’s celebratory laughter. “I have talked to her!” he insists, sounding very much like a petulant child. “I talk to her all the time! I walk her to her car every night when we close together, invite her to all our band’s shows, asked for her number— I even made her a Spotify playlist!”

 Taehyun doesn’t look up from his phone. “Did she give you her number?”

“No!” Beomgyu shrilly cries, making everyone wince. “She said I have to earn it!”

“Maybe she’s playing hard to get.” You mumble, talking instead of listening for the first time in a while. Beomgyu was among your favorites of Kai’s fraternity brothers, and while it was entertaining to listen to him whine about his unrequited love, you did actually want him to succeed;  for the first time in the years you’ve known him he seems interested in a girl beyond just guessing what her cupsize was, which was a pretty big deal for him.

“It sounds more like she wants him to leave her alone.” Huening snickers to you.

“No, no, if she really didn’t like him, she would’ve called the cops on him by now.”

Everyone around the pool table roars with laughter. Beomgyu scowls. “You’re laughing. I’m trying to win over the love of my life and you’re laughing.”

“Don’t give up!” you encourage him drunkenly, peeling yourself off Kai to stumble over and pat his back. “Girls like it when guys yearn. She’s probably waiting for you to do something extra special, to show her you don’t just want to fuck her.”

“But I do want to fuck her.”

You sigh. “Okay, but that’s not all you want, right?”

“God, no! I want to make her mine so bad… I’d ask her to marry me tomorrow if I didn’t think she’d punch me in the face.”

“I don’t blame her for thinking he just wants in his pants.” Beomgyu’s good friend Jeongin says, taking the cue stick from Soobin’s hands. “It’s what he wants when it comes to everybody else.”

“At least he’s not filling us in on every sordid detail of his latest hookup.” Soobin shrugs, stepping back to sit next to Taehyun. “Beomgyu might be a simp, but I honestly see this as an improvement.”

“I’m not a fucking simp!”  Beomgyu all but shrieks, drawing the attention of nearby co-eds. “I get so much more pussy than you losers! When was the last time you fucked anything other than a fleshlight? Watching those weird ass videos you like.”

Soobin squirms and blushes. “It’s called hentai and it’s art.”

“And Kai!” Beomgyu spins around to point an accusatory finger at him. “I’ve never managed to see him bag a girl without her running away screaming!”

Kai’s closest brothers all laugh, but everyone else looks confused— including you. Kai? Scaring away girls? That was something you’ve never heard before. Did Beomgyu mean that he was frightening… sexually? You weren’t even convinced that Kai’s had sex at all. He still sleeps with stuffed animals. Jesus, you’re living with him now, and never once have you seen him in any sort of compromising position with any girl, or even by himself. You’ve never heard him talk about anything sexual, or even about girls at all. For his entire life, you’ve seen Kai as some sort of transcendent, sexless being that only cares about music and Pokémon.

It doesn’t sit right with you that Beomgyu might know something about your lifelong best friend that you don’t.

“Kai?” Heeseung echoes skeptically. “What’s he scaring them away with, his Gundam collection?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I think Kai would be the one running away screaming, honestly.”

You expect everyone to laugh along with you, and a few do, but you were quickly met with Beomgyu, Soobin and Taehyun’s awkward silence. Beomgyu looks especially betrayed.

“…What?” you press, cocking your head. “This is Huening we’re talking about, come on.”

“Yeah, Huening.” Beomgyu says, peering over at you like you had grown an extra head. “It’s always over when he starts going all Fifty Shades on them.”

Even with the music blaring, you swear you could hear a pin drop.

“He starts going what?!” you whip around to stare at Kai incredulously, who stood very still behind you. He was refusing to look at you, staring very intently at the pool table, even though everyone had stopped playing minutes ago. The tips of his ears are a bright cherry red. “You start going what?!”

“Oh my God, she doesn’t know!” Soobin cackles madly, turning to look over at Taehyun with wild eyes, who met his gaze with a worryingly entertained grin. “She doesn’t know!”

“I don’t know what?” You feel a little betrayed by Taehyun, if you had to be honest— if anyone would’ve kept their head on, it should have been him. “Kai, what are they talking about?”

Kai was still refusing to make eye contact with you, instead glaring sharp daggers at his friends; he looks genuinely angry, which was an emotion you don’t think you’ve seen on him in at least a decade. “Don’t worry about it, they’re being dicks—”

“Hueningie likes to beat girls!” Beomgyu sang, his cute corner dimples popping out in his delighted, deeply evil grin. “He likes to treat girls like sluts!”

Kai was very silent and worryingly still, nearly burning holes into the hardwood floor. You swore he was shaking under everyone’s shocked stares, unable to see his expression with his bangs covering his eyes. You furrow your brow and blanch; Kai has always been the gentle, unconfrontational kind, but this was far from the reaction you were expecting from him at all.

“There’s no way you don’t know, Y/N, I mean— you’re joking, right? You’ve known him for fucking ever.” Taehyun looks genuinely confused.

"You've been in his room! Like, a thousand times!" Beomgyu guffawed. "He's so fucking bad about putting all of his gross shit away-- once I saw handcuffs still attached to the headboard!"

You blink.

This had to be some sort of joke. They were fucking with you, they had to be. "Are you trying to tell me that Hueningkai, OUR Hueningkai, is— no he's not?! Have you met him? He collects stuffed animals!"

"You haven't looked under his bed yet, then." Taehyun snickers, once again back on his phone— you splutter, both at his words and his nonchalance.

“His special little hiding place,” Beomgyu adds with a snort.

 Kai was still eerily silent.

"You've got to be joking.” You insist flatly. “This is a joke. I don't think Kai's seen a pair of boobs in his life—”

“Yes I have. God, I’m not a virgin, Y/N.” Hueningkai mutters stiffly, cutting you off. He looks up at you for the first time in a while, his residual anger lingering on his blushing, grimacing face. His dark eyes stare you down with an intensity you didn’t think he could muster; your stomach flips hard, nearly having you recoil under his stare.

It took you an embarrassing second to register what he even said. "Oh. Um—”

"I'm not some fucking loser." he repeats, his voice calm but deep and frighteningly dark, and it hit you quite suddenly that he was actually upset with you, not his friends. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Kai swear before. "Is it really that hard for you to believe?”

“Um, I—“ you splutter, opening and closing your mouth like a fish.

“It’s like you think I'm some spineless, bitchless nerd or something, you’ve thought that about me since we were small— it pisses me off, honestly, and I'm getting really fucking sick of it. I’m not a little kid anymore!"

You were unable to choke out any words at all as Hueningkai turns away sharply from the group and stomps away up the stairs. It was awkwardly silent for a few deeply conflicting moments, everyone peering at each other nervously, but Beomgyu was quick to pick back up the laughter.

“Someone’s mad! Better watch out, Y/Nie, Huening might punish you for that!”

You resist running after him, even though it makes you sick to your stomach. The party goes on as usual, though everyone seems a little more on edge than before— Heeseung keeps whispering in Beomgyu’s ear. Later, when the guests finally go home and you make it back to your shared bedroom, Kai was already in bed, laid stiff with his back facing you. You don’t have the strength to speak to him, so instead you crawl into your own bed and fall into an uneasy sleep.

Hueningkai hasn’t talked to you in three days. It’s the longest you’ve gone without speaking in your entire lives, you’re pretty sure, and the misery is really starting to get to you. Enough so that you’ve begun to ruminate over everything that’s happened over the last few months, from when you first started living at Alpha Kappa.

Honestly, you were ruminating over one thing in particular.

When your underwear first started going missing, about a week after you moved in, you assumed that it had something to do with the dryer. The way the boys all did their laundry was honestly appalling, lumping everything together without a care in the world, and it was easy to see how your own things could get mixed up in all the mess. It wasn’t just your panties, either; tee shirts and socks, even one of your sports bras. With every load of laundry you did, something of yours managed to disappear.

The difference with your other things, though, was that you eventually got them back. Jake returned your sports bra like it had personally offended him, jumbled up with his soccer uniform because they were the same shade of green. You caught Jungwon wearing your socks on multiple occasions. Soobin is still insisting that your shirt is his, even though it fits him like a crop top.

You’ve never gotten any of your underwear back. It was getting to the point that you were starting to run out, and frankly so was your patience. After what happened that night of the party, the mysterious case of your disappearing intimates was one of the many, many things stuck on your mind. Along with all the bits about Kai and handcuffs and Fifty Shades of Grey, of course.

Specifically, you kept thinking back to what Beomgyu said offhandedly about Kai’s bed, how underneath it was his “special hiding place”. You could only assume that he meant it in the perverted sense, though you couldn’t help but get caught up in the specifics—as in, you’ve spent the last few days wondering obsessively about just what sort of things Kai could be hiding under there, and if, quite possibly, it could include your missing panties.

You felt terrible even entertaining the thought. What a terrible thing to even think about accusing your best friend since childhood of! It wasn’t even like you had any concrete evidence further than a hunch. But you can’t get Taehyun’s words out of your head. You’ve looked everywhere for your underwear, but you haven’t looked under his bed yet.

It’s all you can think about.

And after a week of you and Kai awkwardly dancing around each other, too shy and too proud to talk anything out, you find yourself standing alone in your shared bedroom. Kai and his band are out playing a late night gig, and you’re supposed to be studying for midterms, but instead of focusing on your textbooks your mind keeps wandering back to the bed you were sitting on, and what could possibly be underneath it. You told yourself that first night after the party that you wouldn’t go snooping through Kai’s things, because you didn’t want to shatter the years of trust you’ve built between the two of you— you were stronger than that, or so you kept insisting, but the urge to just look and get it over with and never talk or think about it ever again was growing too strong to continue to ignore. It was like you were a little kid again, going through your mother’s closet while she was at work, an insidious and consuming curiosity you thought you had grown out of a long time ago.

You were an adult, and so was Kai. It wasn’t any of your business what he had or what he hid away, and it certainly wasn’t any of your business who or what he had sex with. Even if it was still hard to imagine Kai having sex at all.

But what if he really was stealing your panties? The devil on your shoulder whispers with glee. Don’t you deserve to know?

Kai would never do that. You’re absolutely sure of it.

Or are you? Because you’re on your knees on the carpet before you realize it and before you can stop yourself. Your body moves even as you kick and scream internally, almost feeling out of your own body, watching in horror as you lower yourself down and peek underneath Kai’s mattress.

It’s dark. You can’t see a thing. What else did you expect?

Instead of giving up, you grab your phone and turn on its flashlight. At first you don’t see much of anything, just lone, crumpled socks and forgotten papers, comic books you recognize from his childhood and an old Nintendo 3DS you’re sure is broken. You curse yourself for being so nosy and move to get up, but that's when you see it; tucked all the way in the very back, up against the wall. A small black shoebox, unmarked and nondescript. It could very well just be a pair of shoes, but once again your curiosity overpowers your sense of self control. You have to duck and wiggle a little to fit that far underneath Kai's mattress, but you manage to grab ahold of the box and drag it out without much but some carpet burn. It doesn't look any more incriminating when you can see it up close. You suddenly feel extremely silly; what exactly were you expecting? For "Y/N's Stolen Underwear" to be printed out on the top? Ockham’s razor tells you its just a shoebox and that you were overstepping quite a few of your best friend's boundaries. You usually pride yourself on being stronger than this.

You've gone too far now, that little voice in your head tells you, smug, leaning with it’s arms crossed on your prefrontal cortex. You've already bothered enough to take it out, might as well open it. Just to know. Just to put the thoughts to rest.

You gingerly take off the lid like you were defusing a bomb.

It might as well have been a fucking bomb. Being exploded to little microscopic pieces would probably feel a lot better than whatever settled itself heavy and ice cold in your stomach.

A polaroid sat on the very top, wrinkled and faded with age. It laid upon a pile of jumbled scraps of cotton that concealed the rest of the box’s contents. At first you couldn’t make heads or tails of it, not until you began to recognize the bright colors and patterns, and you spot bits of lace poking out between the tangled gussets— they were your missing underwear. Still dirty like he had snatched them right from your laundry basket.

You want to laugh, but you can’t, and instead you release an odd sort of wheezing noise. Your chest leaps with a rush of adrenaline, your head light and disoriented as if you were up somewhere real high and were pushed off to freefall. The emotions you expected yourself to feel, anger, disgust, betrayal— you didn’t feel any of them. Surprise, yes, but not the horrified sort. More like the surprise you get from opening a gift.

If you were disgusted by anything, it was yourself, because some deep, idiosyncratic part of you was celebrating, because this was exactly the gift that it wanted.

You take a breath and regain your composure, just enough to focus your attention onto the polaroid. It was an image you recognize immediately, one he took the summer after you both graduated.