𖥻 ׁ ׅ belly ! ׁ ׅ ⚔︎

Well — doomed might have been an exaggerated way to phrase it, but it certainly felt that way when you were standing in the middle of what used to be your bedroom. Renovating your apartment didn’t necessarily mean you were knee deep into damnation, sure, but it was definitely up there with the list of inconveniences that made you rethink every decision you’d supposedly made with confidence.

You started out in this place four years ago, back when splitting rent with a flatmate was the only way to survive college without selling your organs on the internet. You moved out of your parents’ house with a cardboard box of belongings and a stubborn idea that you could do everything on your own. You subsisted on project work, internships, weekend shifts, tutoring jobs that paid in both cash and headaches. Thankfully, you had the scholarship money that kept your tuition from eating your rent alive.

Crazy thing is, that somehow landed you a well-paying job the moment graduation ended, and because you had the good sense your friends often accused you of weaponizing, you saved every extra penny you could. You were socking away paychecks the way other people hoarded takeout receipts. 

That frugality paid off in the most unexpected way when your landlord announced he was getting married, moving abroad, and— oh, right — selling the apartment! And as if the universe wanted to make the choice painfully convenient, your flatmate had moved out just two weeks prior to your landlord's news without so much as a goodbye party. You had waved while thinking of managing the extra rent money and how nice it would be to have the place under your name.

You were served the choice on a silver fucking platter. 

The apartment was Pinterest perfect and it was everything you had ever wanted — light that fell the way soft film light does in pictures, a ten-minute commute to your office, a block of quiet shops where you’d learned the barista by name. And the price was not a fantasy number.

So naturally, you bought it. Papers signed, small celebratory drinks taken, and spent the next few days internally screaming at the idea that you now owned property. You — who once didn’t know how to cook rice without Googling it — now legally possessed a piece of real estate. It made you feel simultaneously grown-up and like an imposter in someone else’s adult life. 

It should have been the high point of a long series of sensible choices; the problem, however, was that you had never owned a place before and therefore had no earthly idea that buying an apartment sometimes meant getting a call from the building manager about structural inspections and code compliance. You called your mother later asking for directions, and she laughed at your face before ending the call. How fun!

Not to mention, you had overlooked the single most vital part of the process that you wouldn’t be allowed to live there during the particularly loud, dusty parts of the work; you had overlooked the two-week window of demo and piping and men in fluorescent vests; you had overlooked, most catastrophically, the implication that you needed somewhere to sleep until the hammering stopped.

So yes, doomed was performative, but not untrue.

But see, you had wanted this and you’d earned it. You were also suddenly, gloriously, alarmingly unprepared for the practicalities of owning a place, which was its own kind of chaotic humility. The next logical step was obvious, of course, find a roof for a few nights. Preferably one that didn’t come with the word “hotel.” Preferably one that involved fewer fluorescent vests.

And that, by the mercy of a long-standing friendship who always returned your favors, is how the idea of crashing at Yeonjun’s — because he insisted, and because it was safe, and because your floors were about to sound like the inside of a drum — suddenly stopped being a Plan B and became the only plan you could live with.

Your lord and saviour — Choi Yeonjun — rolled up in his car on the morning of the renovation day. This dude knew when to flaunt style, stepping out of the car like some movie hero wearing sunglasses as he spotted you. A smirk and a cock of his eyebrows as he waved at you, to which your smile painfully twitched at the edges, threatened to snap into an actual scowl, while your brain did the rapid-fire calculation of whether your neighbors had the misfortune of witnessing his stupid ass and embarrassing actions. 

“Do I carry your baby first?” he called, pointing finger guns at the potted plant in your hands before pivoting one finger toward you. “Or do I carry my baby first—oomf!”

Whatever punchy line he had prepared died in a strangled squeak as you shoved the plant into his chest to make him stumble backward, his sunglasses sliding down his nose. A perfectly orchestrated disaster in slow motion. You spun away before he could weaponize his cheshire grin.

“Less talking, more helping,” you said over your shoulder. “Handle her gently. She’s seen things.”

Ushering your friend to carefully place the plant at the back of his car, you punctuated all your words and actions with a grateful, charming smile. If he was going to give you a roof over your head until your apartment came back to life, you had to be nice to him, right?

Of course, you knew deep down you didn’t have to act nice. Yeonjun had always been that friend who would show up at your door the moment you even hinted at a problem. Hard times, awkward situations, you name it — he’d be there. There was no hesitation, no ‘let me see if I can help’, no calculating pause to gauge if you deserved it. Sure, you poked fun at each other relentlessly, a constant volley of teasing and one-upmanship that made your friendship a delicate dance of ego and affection but beyond the teasing, beyond the sarcasm, beyond all the jabs that left you both laughing or wanting to rip each other’s head off, Yeonjun had seamlessly morphed into something more permanent than a childhood friend — he was family.

Still, him being so unnervingly well-behaved, so obedient and agreeable, without the faintest attempt at pissing you off was… suspicious. You told yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just in a good mood! But the longer it went one, the more unsettling it became. He didn't let you lift a single thing, intercepting every bag before your hand even reached for them. He even opened the car door for you, palm resting on the roof like a gentleman so you wouldn’t bump your head. Strike two.

Then, when he mentioned taking you out for breakfast before heading to his place, it was the third streak of suspicious behavior that made your internal skeptic raise a fist. Now as a person he was polite, yes. He held doors open for strangers, tipped generously, helped aunties carry groceries without being asked. Yeonjun was a lot of things but being a gentleman with you? He had never once been this much of a gentleman around you, not in the entire twenty-plus years you’d known him. 

When he pulled your chair out for you at the cafe, you stopped pretending it wasn’t weird. This was either a setup or a prank.

You cut into your croissant sandwich, flakes scattering across the plate, you threw him a look that could slice steel.

“Yeonjun.” your tone was deceptively light.

He hummed, eyes flicking toward you over the rim of his cup.

“What the fuck aren’t you telling me?”

He inhaled and choked immediately, coffee spraying into the wrong pipe, eyes watering as he grabbed for a napkin. You watched, smiling unbothered as he coughed and wheezed across from you. Someone a table over glanced at him with concern. You smiled at them too.

“God,” he rasped, dabbing at his chin, “can you be a little civil when you speak?”

“Can you noy lie by omission?” you countered, pointing your fork at him. “That face you've been making since you picked me up, and the way you’re acting, all these tell me that you did some shit and expected me to not notice.”

He pressed his lips together, debating whether to deflect or confess. But he deflated real quick under the way you were looking at him. “Okay. It's nothing bad, really.”

“I’ll decide after I hear it.”

“There’s… uh, my cousin. He’s staying over at my place for a bit.”

You paused mid-chew. Ah. That cousin. The name didn't even need to be spoken; you knew exactly which cousin he meant. The same one who used to show up at every family dinner when you and Yeonjun were kids. He was someone you found either tolerable or exhausting depending on the year. You didn’t mind him — but it did mean one thing.

“He’s in your guest room,” you said, not accusing so much as confirming it out loud.

“Yeah,” Yeonjun replied, exhaling through his nose. He pushed his cup aside and scrubbed a hand over his mouth like he was rewinding the morning to find a better entry point. “The spare’s his for now but he’s leaving in three days. I should’ve told you earlier, I know, but—” He cut himself off, rubbing his face. “I didn’t want you stressing more. And I didn’t want you trying to figure out somewhere else and ending up somewhere sketchy because you didn’t want to inconvenience me.”

You ran through the alternatives you already knew would fail. It was nearly Christmas; most of your friends were out of town for the holidays, parents were too far to make daily check-ins on the renovation feasible, and hotels were a financial joke you weren’t in the mood to entertain. 

Inconvenient as it was, he had a point.

You sighed, shaking your head once, eyes lifting back to him. “No, you’re right,” you said finally, tone even, “that this is genuinely the least terrible option I have.”

The relief that crossed his face was immediate and, frankly, humiliating. “I’ll make it up to you.” He paused, frowned, then added, “I already am, technically. Breakfast. Transportation. Emotional support. I feel like those are solid offerings.”

“Don’t push it,” you muttered, snorting as you reached back for your food, nudging a fallen flake of pastry aside with your fingertip before taking another bite. You chewed slowly, watching him as you half-expected another shoe to drop. Thank god he didn’t let it. 

Instead, he straightened in his chair, suddenly looking earnest in a way that made you wary.

“Seriously, though,” he said, clasping his hands together on the table. “You won’t feel uncomfortable, I promise. You will take my room. I’ll crash on the couch. It’s fine. I’ve slept on worse. Floors. Airport chairs. That one time in the back of a van or—” he paused, lifting a finger as a better idea struck him mid-sentence, “—I can even stay in my cousin’s room. He owes me. For, like, several things. Some of them are crimes.”

“Yeah, I don't wanna know about the last one,” you spoke solemnly, giving him a long look. Still, you were surprised by how carefully he was laying it out, as though he were afraid one wrong word might tip the balance. “Also, no, that won't be necessary,” you said, shaking your head as you felt bad when he mentioned giving up his bed. “I trust you, Yeonjun. And I’m grateful you even thought this far ahead for me.”

He nodded quickly, like he’d expected resistance. “I know. I just—listen, I don’t want you lying awake wondering if you’re being a problem. You’re not, and you’ll never be.” He reached across the table then, nudging your plate closer when he noticed you’d drifted away from it.

A funny sort of silence dawned upon you two. You gave him another long look. He returned it to you. 

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, leaning forward with your nose scrunching as if you’d just bitten into something unexpectedly sour. “This whole formality thing is getting weird. Like, physically uncomfortable.” 

He gave a long sigh of relief then leaned in too. “Right? I thought I was losing my mind, but no. No, this is wrong,” he whispered back, eyes comically wide. He dragged a hand down his arm, shivering. “It’s like my body knows this isn’t how we talk and it’s protesting.” He paused, then added scandalously, “I hate it.”

“See, this is why I like you, Jjunie. We’re always on the same page. Always,” you said in a sing-song voice. You nudged his foot lightly with your shoe under the table, not bothering to look down. “Besides, I would've kicked your ass if you hadn’t given me your place to crash.”

“Please,” he scoffed, lifting his cup for a sip. “You wouldn’t have gotten the chance. My mom would’ve beaten you to it the moment she found out.” He shook his head, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “I can hear it already. ‘You had space and you let her struggle?’ Best believe I’d be dead.”

You resumed eating as you said, “I love your mom, Jun.”

Too focused on the sudden call from one of your leading renovating workers, you failed to notice the soft smile playing on his face. And somewhere in that moment, Yeonjun raised his mug, hiding whatever had crossed his face before you could catch it.

You barely made it past the threshold before Joonho’s arms banded around your shoulders with zero regard for physics, personal space, or the fact that you were well into your late twenties and not, in fact, a long-lost child returning from war.

The air left your lungs in a sharp rush as he squeezed, voice booming against the side of your head as he marvelled loudly at how much you’d grown, how long it had been, how he couldn’t believe you were standing here now. You returned the enthusiasm in theory only, patting his back and waiting it out as you knew resistance would only prolong the ordeal.

Oxygen was becoming a fond memory when your mental plea was answered not by Joonho, but by Yeonjun, who caught the back of his cousin’s shirt and hauled him away in one smooth motion until Yeonjun deposited him a respectable distance away. His palm still fisted in cotton like he was restraining an overexcited dog.

“Hands to yourself,” Yeonjun said mildly.

“I was welcoming her.”

“There are better ways to do that. You’re in her space, dipshit.”

Yeonjun released him, then turned to you without missing a beat, eyes flicking over your face once. He reached down, plucked your bag from beside your feet before you could argue, and slung it over his shoulder. “Come on.”

As you were about to follow him down the short hall, you paused only when Joonho snickered behind you.

“Big fan of whatever this is,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you.

You glanced back at him, then at Yeonjun’s retreating figure, and decided not to make an effort to investigate. Joonho had always lived on a frequency you never quite tuned into, always spoken in sideways implications, even when you were younger. And you’d learned long ago that dissecting his words rarely led anywhere useful. Whatever he thought he was observing could remain his own private entertainment.

Yeonjun kept his promise and then some; fresh sheets stretched tight across the bed, pillowcases crisp and smooth beneath your fingers, the whole space scrubbed of any trace that it had been occupied the night before. It did not look like a guest setup hastily arranged out of obligation.

He had opened the wardrobe as well, sliding hangers aside and clearing a section that was conspicuously empty for you to keep your clothes. Yeonjun stepped back for you and leaned against the wardrobe, folding his arms as he watched you unzip your bag and begin sorting through its contents.

“You didn’t need to bring clothes, though,” he mentioned offhandedly, glancing toward the open bag as you reached for another sweater. “You could’ve just worn mine.”

You snorted, crouching lower to fish out a pair of folded jeans, smoothing them over your thigh before placing them away. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘feeling comfortable in your own skin’?” you asked, tipping your head to look at him. “Hmm?”

He shifted his stance, one heel tapping lightly against the floor as his mouth curved and he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m fairly certain that phrase is meant to imply a totally different thing, but—”

“What I mean,” you cut in, rising to your feet with the drawer sliding shut under your palm, “is that you’ve already done more than enough.” You turned fully toward him then, hand still resting on it as if to brace the point. “You don’t need to keep adding to it or be stressed on my behalf.”

“Not stressed,” he murmured, pushing off the wardrobe and reaching past you to close the doors. The motion boxing you in for a second too long to ignore before he stepped back again. “And it’s not really extra effort.”

The evidence of his earlier feline grin was long gone. What replaced it didn’t look like seriousness so much as absence, a rare unreadable look that felt oddly out of character. 

“I just like seeing you in my clothes.”

The startling absence of empty flirtiness in his voice made your heart do a bewildered lurch. These words and antics from Yeonjun were not new to you. You had heard variations of that line before, over the years, reshaped and repackaged into jokes you both knew how to handle. This time, there was no such padding.

Scoffing, you stepped into his space planting both hands on his shoulders and turning him bodily toward the door. “Why, because they look better on me than on you?” you said lightly, nudging him forward as you laughed, giving him a final push toward the hallway. “Careful, might steal your fame as the best dressed person in every room.”

“Going ahead of yourself is, unfortunately, a flaw you should really work on—hey, ouch,” he cut himself off with a sharp hiss when you pinched the back of his arm in retaliation, turning back to glare at you over his shoulder. He tried to maintain dignity while rubbing at the spot, but the effect was ruined by the way his mouth pulled into a sulk. “That was uncalled for. Absolutely unprovoked.”

“That’s for the slander,” you said, unrepentant.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, holding his arm with pursed lips. “I open my home, my wardrobe, my heart—”

“Door,” you calmly corrected, pointing.

Thankfully whatever foreign feeling that had momentarily settled in your heart got promptly flattened by the delight you got from his reaction. With a sulking and pouting yeonjun finally leaving you alone, you unpacked taking your time. The rest of the day dissolved into motion with trips back and forth from your apartment, calls with the renovation team, photos sent, questions answered, decisions made until your head felt heavy. By the time night settled in properly, exhaustion had worked its way into your bones.

The boys floated the idea of a movie night. You declined without much thought. Yeonjun caught on immediately with just one look at you, shut Joonho off before he could protest himself hoarse, shooing you toward the hallway with an insistence that you rest. You mumbled goodnight to both of them and retreated into his room.

Sleeping anywhere other than your own bed usually left you staring at the ceiling, counting phantom shadows and waiting for rest that never quite came. You expected the same here. But despite the unfamiliarity of the space, the familiarity of his scent clinging to the subspaces clouded your senses and soon enough, lulled you into a gentle, dreamless sleep. 

You woke to the smell before you were fully awake. Hunger nudged you down the hall and into the kitchen, where roasted beef and coffee welcomed you all at once. Yeonjun stood at the counter with a paper bag torn open, unpacking takeout containers one by one. He lined them up with his sleeves pushed to his elbows, hair still flattened in odd directions from sleep. He glanced over when you shuffled in, his mouth curving into a soft acknowledgment.

“Morning,” he said, nudging a coffee cup closer to the machine. “You sleep all right?”

You answered with a nod and stepped closer, close enough that your arm brushed his. Closer still, until you leaned into him and let your cheek rest against the solid warmth of his bicep, your eyes half-closing as you watched his hands work. You thought you felt him stiffen for a nano moment, not really putting much thought behind it when he resumed his flow of work. He was humming under his breath.

“Smells… insane,” you murmured, the words arriving late and dragged out of sleep as you reached for a fry before nibbling on it with little care for manners.

He glanced down at you, then at the fry between your fingers, and nudged the plate an inch farther from the counter’s edge with his knuckle. “You’re going to tip over,” he said, not stopping what he was doing.

“Mm,” you answered, voice muffled where it pressed into his shirt as you shifted closer instead of backing off. “Food’s taking too long. I’m supervising. Very hands-on position.”

“Ahh, important role,” he humoured you dryly. “If I mess this up, I assume there’s a formal complaint process?”

“Immediate termination,” you said, reaching for another fry and bumping his forearm in the process. “Start over. New kitchen. New cook.”

Footsteps approached, heavier and less considerate than yours had been. Joonho filled the doorway with a stretch and a yawn, pausing mid-motion when his eyes landed on the picture you made leaning into Yeonjun’s side.

“Wow,” he said, blinking once as if his brain needed a second pass. “Good morning to… this,” he added.

You didn’t bother lifting your head. “Morning to you too,” you said, reaching blindly for a fork and tapping it against the counter in his direction. “If you’re going to stare, at least make yourself useful.”

Yeonjun took the opportunity to gently step away, sliding a plate into your hands in the same motion. “Sit down,” he told you, gesturing toward the chair. “I’ll get you your coffee.”

Joonho snorted, grabbing a sandwich and already taking a bite. “Funny to see you two play house in your grown age.”

You dropped into the chair, blinking up at them both. “I’ve been here less than twenty-four hours. Calm down.”

“Twenty-four hours is plenty,” Joonho replied, reaching for the napkins and dragging the whole stack toward himself. “People have made worse life decisions faster.”

Yeonjun clicked his tongue under his breath as he poured the coffee, before sliding it across the counter toward you without looking. “Like how you once agreed to a group trip after knowing people for twelve hours, Joonho? Should I remind you that financial recovery took months?” he said, giving his cousin a flat look. 

You wrapped both hands around the mug the second it reached you. The heat pressed into your palms as you leaned back in the chair. Your eyes drifted between them while the kitchen filled with their cacophonies of back-and-forth jabs. You smiled to yourself because some things truly never change.

That noon found you folded into the corner of the couch with your laptop balanced on your thighs as you sorted through your work emails. Joonho had left the house an hour ago, and Yeonjun had mentioned — almost in passing — that he’d shower before heading out to work. You reached for your phone to cross-check a note and came up empty-handed, the absence registering slowly and you frowned after patting the cushion beside you, then the coffee table, then the pocket of your cardigan. You then remembered that you’d set it down on Yeonjun’s bed earlier, right before you wandered back out to the living room with your coffee.

You could still hear the water running so you figured announcing yourself wasn't necessary as you nudged his door open with your shoulder, eyes already sweeping the bed in search of your phone. Spotting it near the pillow you crossed the room quickly, you grabbed it just as the bathroom door opened behind you.

Yeonjun stepped out with a towel thrown over one shoulder, skin still dewy and sweatpants riding low on his hips, droplets tracing idle paths down his chest as he scrubbed at his hair with the towel. His movements were thoughtless until his gaze lifted and landed on you, stalling mid-rub.

“Oh—” The word left you only after you looked up from the bed and actually took him in, phone clutched loosely in your hand. “Sorry. I was just grabbing my phone. I didn’t think you’d be out yet.”

He scrambled to make a sound that sounded like it had been meant as a laugh and didn’t quite make it. Shifting his stance he hooked his thumb into the waistband of his sweatpants and tugged them a fraction higher. He turned away a little like he was giving you space.

“No, it’s—yeah. You’re fine,” he replied.

Now, the only sensible option would have been to retrieve your phone and retreat, to give your friend of over two decades space to finish getting dressed, right? You were about to do it, you swear. Yet, your feet stalled where they were and your attention stayed anchored on him in a way that felt mildly inconvenient because while Yeonjun shirtless was hardly a new visual in the long archive of your shared history (memories stacked with sunburnt afternoons and public pools, shared vacations involving Yeonjun shirtless in some capacity, borrowed shirts tossed at your face) — none of that had ever felt strange. The version of him standing there now carried angles and proportions your memory lagged behind on.

You knew he worked out; you’d heard him complain about sore muscles, had teased him about protein shakes crowding the fridge, endured the commentary about macros and sleep cycles with the indulgence reserved for habits that had always been his. None of this was new. But, what was new was the geometry of him now. Your brain took an extra second to update its internal file on him around the fact that his body no longer matched the version it had filed away a few months ago — definition etched where there used to be softness, shoulders carrying a broader span, and that he looked… bigger, in a way that demanded attention.

“Did you—” you began, then paused, redirecting mid-thought as your gaze traced the shallow grooves along his stomach while he shifted to face you. “Have you been working out lately? Because —” you gestured at him, gaze openly evaluative in a way that had never felt off-limits between you. “— holy shit. You look big.”

His mouth curved before he could stop it, teeth flashing in a brief, reflexive grin as he glanced down at himself, then back at you. “Yeah,” he said, bracing one hip against the edge of the dresser, the motion pulling a subtle flex through his torso. “I’ve been more consistent. Work’s been a lot lately, so I figured I’d channel it somewhere useful.”

“Makes sense,” you murmured, already closing the remaining space, your curiosity steering you forward with no sense of consequence, fingers pressing into his upper arm. You squeezed once, then again, brows knitting with genuine interest. Even when he wasn't flexing, his muscles were so well defined that it almost resembled a sculpture, so tenderly pleasing to the eye. “Damn,” you added softly to yourself. “This couldn’t have been easy to get.”

You were standing so close that the residual warmth from the shower still rolling off him reached you without effort, bleeding into the small space between you. He drew a breath through his nose, shoulders lifting and lowering with it as he adjusted his footing again, fingers regripping the towel. “It wasn’t,” there was pure honesty in the way he spoke. “It did take a while, almost gave up halfway through. Hasn't been easy, yeah.”

“The hard work definitely paid off, Jun. You look incredible.” You hummed, still distracted and testing the muscle under your thumb, then gave a small nod like you’d reached a satisfying conclusion. “I mean, you could probably pick me up and toss me across the room if you wanted.”

You looked up only after the sentence cleared your mouth, catching the way he cocked a brow as his gaze dropped to your hand and then climbed back to your face. The flush at his ears looked deeper up close, spreading across his cheekbones that made you briefly wonder if the water had been hotter than usual, because surely that had to be it. A corner of his mouth slowly tipped upward, and he leaned in just enough for heat to register.

“You’d like that, huh?”

There was a sudden flip that rippled through your stomach as your fingers flexed around his muscle, and you were acutely aware of how close he was now —  you could count the faint freckles at his shoulder, close enough that your gaze traced down his chest before you caught yourself and brought it back up, a strange recalibration happening as your mind still struggled to place this version of him into a category that made sense.

It wasn’t that he looked different so much as the fact that you were seeing him differently… again. Noticing proportions, noticing presence, noticing how little distance there actually was between you, and the awareness made your breath hitch to be baffling and — oh, god. You must've been crazy.

Whatever this moment was, it stretched past its welcome before he was the one to break it, stepping away with a quick motion. That sent a ripple of cooler air across your skin as he reached for the shirt draped over the chair, pulling it on with brisk efficiency. You let air fill your lungs once more.

“Anyway,” he said, already moving past you toward the hall, grabbing his wallet from the counter as he glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ve gotta head out and do the grocery run. Joonho’s dead set on cooking tonight, so I can’t bail out.”

And by the time you could come up with a properly formed sentence, the main door’s closing sound echoed through the house. You stood there in the middle of the room, phone clutched between your fingers as you frowned and shook your head once, then again, like that might settle whatever had been stirred loose. But it didn't shake off the jittery feelings still infesting your insides.

Joonho came back not long after Yeonjun left. Tossing his keys lazily onto the counter he announced that his boss had apparently decided that becoming a new father was reason enough to let everyone clock out early, which you accepted with polite skepticism until he held up a paper bag sagging with baked goods. He unloaded the story between bites of custard-filled bread and sips of tea. That is until the sugar crash nudged you back toward responsibility and your laptop, relocating yourself on the dining table while Joonho occupied the sofa.

You’d barely settled back into work when your phone buzzed, Yeonjun’s name lighting up the screen. You answered, shoulder tilting to pin the phone there as you scanned a line of text on your screen.

“Hey,” you said absently, typing.

“Okay, quick question,” he started, and there was a gravity to his tone that made you squint, “I need you to tell me if this sounds right.”

That alone was concerning. 

“Okay,” you encouraged. “Go on.”

“There’s this packet of red chillies,” he continued, voice careful, “five pieces. Thirty thousand won per pound. That’s… normal, right?”

Your fingers stopped moving. Your brain, for a brief and merciful second, did too.

Thirty thousand for five fucking chillies.

The neurons in your head cycled through the numbers once, twice, like a buffering screen, searching desperately for context that would make this sentence make sense. Because surely this was a joke, or he had misread the tag, or Yeonjun was annoying you on purpose. Yes. That had to be it.

Choi Yeonjun could not possibly be standing in a grocery store, contemplating financial ruin over five sad little chillies. He was a grown man with a job and a functioning life. He could not possibly be asking you, with sincerity, whether five chillies were worth that much money.

“You—” you began, then stopped, unable to form a proper speech, “where did you even find five chillies for thirty thousand?”

From the couch, Joonho muted the television without looking at you, his attention suddenly razor-focused on the conversation.

On the other end, you heard the rustle of plastic. “It’s this stall near the entrance. Oh, they’re imported,” Yeonjun said, as if that explained everything.“They look good. Like, actually good. Not wrinkly. And the guy says they’re fresh.”

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose, exhaling through your mouth. Fresh. That was his defense. Okay, so maybe the frontal lobe development had, in fact, skipped a step.

“Yeonjun,” you said, voice still level. “Why are you even standing there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you considering it?” You were now rising from your chair and beginning to pace. “Yeonjun, please listen to me. This is how people get scammed. Put them back.”

“You sure?” he asked, genuine concern threading his voice. “Because they look really—”

“No, no, no. Why are you still standing there? I’m begging you to use your brain for two seconds and put that back,” you cut in, stopping short by the window before beginning to pace again.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by a faint shuffle.

“Are you freaking out about the price?” he asked, trying to soothe you. “It’s okay, I can afford it.”

You stopped walking. You were about to need more patience than this.

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, words tumbling out faster now. “The point is that just because you can afford to get scammed doesn’t mean you should. Do you know how much chilli powder you could buy with that? Paste! An entire plant! You could grow your own for that money.”

“Okay, but these are whole—”

“No!” you cried out with an exasperated sigh. “No, don’t ‘whole’ me. This is not about whole versus powdered. This is about you standing in a market, looking at five vegetables, and thinking, yeah, this seems reasonable.”

“Alright, alright.” He laughed softly, the sound carrying through the line. It felt funny in your chest. “No need to panic.”

“I’m being practical,” you shot back, dragging a hand through your hair. “There’s a difference. Please. I’m asking you. Step away from the chillies.”

“I’ll then get some paste.”

“Yes,” you said immediately, collapsing back into your chair. “Or powder. Or nothing. Honestly, nothing is preferable to this.”

The call ended not long after, Yeonjun promising to text you before buying anything else, and you let your phone drop into your lap, staring at the ceiling for a moment as the leftover headache ebbed. If the universe had decided that you were meant to orbit a man who could be trusted with big things but not small, overpriced ones, then so be it. You’d known him long enough to accept that trade-off. Someone whose nonsense still brought a reluctant fondness out of you even as it shaved years off your lifespan.

“You should marry him.”

Whisplashed, you gawked at Joonho. He had said it without looking over, eyes still on the muted television as his fingers reached into the paper bag on the table, fishing for another pastry.

“Then he wouldn’t be doing stupid shit like this,” he added, sounding pragmatic rather than provocative.

“Dude—what?” You barked out a sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t caught awkwardly in your throat. “Where did that even come from?”

He glanced up then, brows lifting just a notch as if he were surprised you hadn’t already arrived there yourself. “I’m serious,” he said then added, “I’m surprised, actually.” 

“Surprised about what?” you still couldn’t conceal the bewilderment.

“Now, why do you sound surprised?” he pointed a finger at you. You figured he might have guessed you’d stay quiet until he gave you a proper explanation. Luckily, he gave you one. “Think about it. You’ve known him forever. You already manage his life half the time.” 

“Okay,” you said slowly. “So?”

“From watching the two of you for most of my life,” he said, waving his hand. “I’m honestly surprised you two never dated. Not in high school, not in university. People with half your history usually screw it up at least once just to get it out of their system.”

You let out a frustrated snort as you crossed your arms, shaking your head. “Absolutely not. That is not how that works. That’s not how anything works.”

Joonho watched you for a beat before inquiring, tone unchanged. “You’ve really never thought about marrying him? Like, not even once?”

You were ready with rebuttals you’d used a hundred times. Timing had never lined up — that was always the first excuse. Friendship was safer, the second. And there were lines that once crossed couldn’t be redrawn, which was reason enough to stop before anything began.

But nothing came out. Because instead, your mind slid sideways into territory it had always avoided, and suddenly there he was not as your childhood friend calling from a grocery aisle, but as a constant presence folded into the mundane architecture of your life.

You imagined waking up in the muted light of early morning, the fragrance of brewed coffee curling through the kitchen as Yeonjun shuffled around in one of his beloved tank tops; the mundane comfort of scrambled eggs and toast punctuated by lazy smiles exchanged over mismatched mugs. You saw yourself bundled in his jacket for grocery runs that ended with impulse snacks tossed into the cart. The shared fatigue of evenings where you came home at different times but always ended up in the same place, and the nights blurred into soft, whispered conversations before sleep.

And in every scenario, there was the brief yet startling intimacy of sharing a kiss. It didn’t leave you shaken, rather it left a sweet aftertaste in the palate of your thoughts. Despite how much you denied, you knew it wasn’t just  a sweeping vision. It was nothing cinematic nor inflated because it arrived in pieces, ordinary enough to feel borrowed from a life you could plausibly live. 

“Ah, there it is!” Joonho snapped his fingers and leaned back against the couch. “That faraway look. It’s a nice picture, isn’t it?” A pause, then a crooked smile. “You’re picturing it right now. I can tell. Wild that you two never did the whole childhood‑promise nonsense. Pinky swears, wedding vows at seven years old, not even a ‘if we’re still single at thirty’ deal. Feels like a missed cliché, honestly.”

“Yeah, well,” you replied too quickly, reaching for your mug and lifting it to your lips before realizing it was empty, the ceramic knocking lightly against your teeth. You set it down gently. “That stuff exists in movies for a reason.”

Joonho remained silent then began folding the top of the paper bag shut. “I’m not trying to push you, but you really never thought about it?” then he stole a quick glance at you. “Because you didn’t say no.”

You seriously cannot be thinking about Yeonjun this way after all these years.

Again.

The lack of speech from you wasn’t making the space empty; it was getting full of all the unsaid and unexpressed feelings you had harboured for your childhood friend years ago in your younger days. Yes, you had thought about it. No, you had never acted on it, because cowardice had been easier than loss. You had decided, over and over, that wanting him was a risk you couldn’t afford, that Yeonjun mattered too much to gamble on a crush you’d once dismissed as juvenile and temporary, even when it wasn’t. You couldn’t risk altering the shape of your life with him. So you learned how to live alongside it until it dulled into background noise.

You had dated men who were good, men who listened and showed up and treated you with respect, men who looked good beside you and fit neatly into your life. You had done everything to replace the habit of thinking about Yeonjun.

But none of them were Yeonjun, and none of them ever would be. His ghost was bound to forever haunt you.

Even more now that Joonho brought up the topic and awakened latent emotions. The thought, once placed, refused to leave.

“I…” You exhaled, the word thinning into nothing. You still couldn’t say the truth, so you reached for the closest thing that sounded acceptable. “I don’t know.”

So, as it turned out, letting your feelings crawl back to the surface and sit there had consequences, chief among them the fact that you were now painfully alert to Yeonjun’s presence in a way you hadn’t been in years. 

That was exactly what you had been dealing with since your last talk with Joonho. Now, you were even more knee deep into this war with yourself as you stared down at your phone, the college batch group chat hollering with enthusiasm about a pre‑Christmas gathering tonight. Names you knew too well kept chiming in with zeal and inside jokes resurfaced that felt almost contagious. You had never been a difficult person to exist around; you didn’t collect grudges, didn’t leave messes behind you in the form of unresolved conflicts. There was no reason not to go and the longer you scrolled, the harder it became to justify sitting this one out without sounding evasive, even to yourself.

Except there was still one very real problem you kept circling back to.

The couch dipped beside you as Yeonjun dropped down with his thigh brushing your knee. The scent of his shampoo crowded your senses.

“Did you check the chat?” Yeonjun asked, already craning his neck closer, his arm stretching out behind you along the backrest.

“That’s literally what I’m looking at,” you replied, tilting the phone slightly so he could see, even as your awareness narrowed to the point of contact between you. 

“Oh,” he said, drawn‑out, almost pleased. “Do you want to go?”

You stayed silent a beat too long because you were still unsure if you could squeeze it into your agenda. Yeonjun caught the hesitation immediately. He shifted so he could look at your face instead of the phone. 

“You don’t want to?” he asked slowly. Then quicker, before you could answer, “It’s fine if you don’t. I won’t go either. We can stay in, order takeout, talk about how annoying everyone was in college—”

“No, wait,” you cut in, sitting upright. You gestured vaguely with your phone. “It’s just… I don’t know,” you said, which had become a familiar placeholder lately. 

Yeonjun raised his brows with a small nod, patient with you as he always is. 

“I do want to go. I’m just thinking about the renovation mess. My workload has swelled into something unwieldy with year‑end deadlines looming, and I don’t want to spend the whole night half‑present, and everything feels a little—” You stopped yourself, then glanced at him. “Besides, what do you mean you'd sit out for me if I didn't go? Don’t say things like that.”

He shrugged, too casual for the way his eyes stayed on your face. “I mean exactly what I said.”

You stared back at him, incredulous. “I could never let you do that, idiot. You should go if you want to. Your friends miss you—I’m sure of it.”

There was a beat where he didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned forward with elbows on his knees as he tilted his face to stare up at you. There was a faint crease between his brows.

“You’re more important to me,” he said plainly. 

The look in his eyes translated as if the answer was an obvious fact rather than something that sent your thoughts skidding.

“Oh,” you managed, and before you could find your footing again, he reached out and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“But I do think you should come with me,” he said. “We’ll go together. You’ve been running yourself into the ground for weeks. I can help with the rest—your workload, the apartment, whatever you need, you know that, right? You deserve to have fun.”

“Yeah,” you said finally, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

You had to stop by your apartment first. Everything you’d brought to Yeonjun’s place had been chosen for convenience and nothing meant to be seen outside of errands and long days. Tonight called for winter-appropriate and a presentable version of yourself. You registered what Yeonjun had worn. Faded gray jeans, a white shirt pulled neat beneath a red tie and above it a black jacket. 

Yeonjun lingered in your living room while you changed. When you stepped back out, his attention followed you and stayed there.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you answered, shrugging into your coat while you checked that you hadn’t forgotten anything obvious.

“You look beautiful,” he said, grabbing the keys from the table and tossing them once into his palm, “you’re about to make people regret not seeing you more often.”

You scoffed, though heat crept up your neck as you stepped past him toward the door. “Save it. Sweet talk isn’t getting you out of driving tonight,” you said, toeing off your shoes to trade them for boots. 

“Please.” He laughed, holding the door open as you stepped into the cold, breath fogging between you. “Wouldn’t even dream of it, pretty.”

The car sealed you both inside against the cold the moment you shut the door, and you exhaled a shiver in comfort as the heater kicked on under Yeonjun’s quick adjustment of the controls. You fiddled with the music player while he drove to your destination. At a red light, he pointed out a bakery you both used to skip classes for. You told him it still sucked. He said you were lying. Neither of you followed it up.

By the time you arrived the voices and music had swallowed the night whole. Faces you hadn’t seen in years surfaced all at once, hugs exchanged, names called across the room as people stepped forward to participate in the greeting. Yeonjun barely made it three steps before someone clapped a hand against his back and dragged him away, then another voice called his name, then another, leaving you standing with your own circle as he was absorbed into his. He turned back to look for you instinctively as if to check you’d found your footing, and you gave him a small nod, a wordless assurance that you were fine.

“I’ll find you,” he promised, raising his voice slightly over the noise.

You laughed, waving him off. “Go. You’re clearly in demand.”

Much later, across the room when you were done with dinner, your eyes met. He had a drink in hand now, jacket gone, hair no longer sitting quite the way it had earlier, and you lifted your brows in a silent check-in. He smiled back in all teeth before someone leaned into his space again and pulled his attention elsewhere.

“Are you seeing anyone these days, or is work still your tragic soulmate?”

You were sharing a table with three other women you hadn’t seen properly since graduation. It was Mina who sent the question your way while nudging your elbow with hers, eyes bright with wine and curiosity.

You huffed a laugh as you reached for your drink. “Work’s winning by a humiliating margin,” you said, taking a sip before setting it back down and wiping a thumb along the rim. “I don’t even think I’m putting up a fight.”

“That tracks,” Hana chimed in. Her tone carried a dry affection as she was someone who’d watched you live like this for years. “You were always like that. We thought you’d mellow out after uni, but somehow you got worse.”

“N-no, she dated,” Jieun cut in far too eagerly (and drunkenly) before you could respond. The wine in her glass dangerously sloshed as she lifted her hand in defense of your reputation. “I saw pictures. Ni—ce pictures. She had—had a boyfriend. The last one. What was his name?” She squinted at you as though the answer might be written on your face. You smiled unhelpfully at her. “Joohyuk? Joohyuk, right? Yeah. Him. Shame you broke up. I liked him.” 

Mina groaned and reached over to push Jieun back into her seat. “You sound like you were dating him yourself. Use your words properly before you get yourself in trouble.”

You had to stifle a laugh as you watched Jieun’s eyes comically widen followed by a disgruntled Mina giving her an earful and Hana’s atrocious cackle. Oh, how you missed this.

“No—no, I didn’t mean it like that!” Jieun protested, waving both hands, then stopping to grip the edge of the table for balance. “I meant he was good. For her. As a person. I’m not stealing anyone’s man,” she rushed, then looked at you with genuine concern. “You know what I mean, right?”

“I know,” you said, laughing as you slid Jieun’s glass a little farther from the table’s edge before it could become a casualty. “You’re safe, Jieun. Don’t worry. But please sit properly, you're going to give me a heart attack if you fall off.” 

The clatter of surrounding voices bled into the gaps as someone nearby laughed too loudly. You took your time before speaking again, fingers resting loosely around your glass as your gaze met Mina’s before drifting to Hana.

“It wasn’t a bad breakup. We talked it through instead of letting it rot, and we both knew whatever we had wasn’t taking us anywhere we wanted to go.” You smiled and sipped on your drink as you told them. “He’s a good man. Just not the right one for me, and I think he knew that too.”

Mina listened with her chin propped on her knuckles, then nodded once, thoughtful. “Honestly, it feels like everyone either married their first serious partner or walked away from dating entirely and hasn’t recovered since.”

Hana’s attention snagged on something past your shoulder. She tracked movement across the room before returning her focus to you.

“Speaking of nothing sticking,” she said, lowering her voice slightly, “have you noticed Yeonjun’s pattern?”

His name cut clean through the pleasant haze of wine you’d settled into. “What pattern?” you asked with the same smile, curiosity worn lightly rather than forced.

“Oh my god,” Mina said at once, scooting her chair closer with a scrape that drew the table tighter together, her forearm sliding across the wood as she leaned in. “I forgot how popular he is. Didn’t he date, like… a lot?” She rolled her wrist vaguely, as though quantity mattered less than the impression it left.

“Not a lot,” Hana countered, brow pinching as she tried to sort memory from hearsay. “Just— often, I guess? It never lasted though. A month, maybe less. You’d blink and suddenly he was single again.” She shrugged.

“I’ve heard that too,” Mina added, lips pursing as she considered her wording, eyes flicking briefly toward the crowd before returning to you. “He’s kind of… how do I say this nicely.” She paused, eyes narrowing in thought before she gave a small, apologetic smile. “A bit of a heartbreaker.”

“A player,” jieun quietly supplied from beside you, drunk beyond senses.

You listened without interrupting, watching the condensation trail down the side of your glass before you brushed it away with your thumb. In that pause you recognized how little the conversation stirred you. A strange sense of distance was all you felt because what they were trading wasn’t Yeonjun so much as a shorthand version of him, assembled from overheard endings and retold assumptions. 

Aside from feeling distant, there was also relief in understanding that distinction, in knowing that the version of him they were dissecting had never belonged to you in the first place.

They liked Choi Yeonjun as a name that moved through rooms. They liked the idea of him by talking about him as if he were a concept instead of a person you’d shared scraped knees, late-night calls, and entire versions of your life with. They didn’t know him as the one whose first relationship faded because they were barely old enough to know what they were asking of each other, and whose second ended because trust was broken on the other side, not his. Nothing beyond that except him trying, stepping back when it didn’t fit, never keeping anyone where they didn’t want to stay.

You knew he wouldn’t care about being reduced to rumor, because he’d said it more than once that people would talk anyway and he didn’t want anyone bleeding on his behalf. Still, childhood loyalty had its own habits. There were lines you wouldn’t let be crossed, even casually, even here.

“I think people confuse brevity with carelessness,” you said, reaching for another snack and nudging the bowl toward Hana as you did. “If a relationship isn’t working, ending it sooner can look messy from the outside, especially when no one’s around for the conversations that come before or after.”

You glanced around the table. Resting your cheek on your palm, your smile widened when you saw Hana looking at you with an apologetic look. The look carried both acknowledgement and embarrassment, the subtle admission that she had overstepped in speaking of someone she didn’t fully know, someone who had meant enough to you to warrant respect.

“And it’s interesting,” you added, tilting your head slightly, “how easy it is to talk about someone when you haven’t actually bothered to see them beyond the image everyone else paints. You can repeat labels and summaries and assume you know the whole story, but it rarely reflects the truth of the person themselves.”

Mina lowered her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek before shaking her head. “God, you’re right. I went ahead of myself with the rush of this conversation… I shouldn’t have said that. Honestly, I wouldn’t feel good if anyone talked about me like that, so I should be more careful.”

“Yeonjun’s always been pretty upfront with people. That tends to get mistaken for a lot of things it isn’t,” you spoke lightly, glancing at Jieun, who had succumbed to slumber halfway through the discussion due to her drunken state. 

You didn't feel the necessity to stretch this conversation further. They admitted their fault and you defended your friend. The win was yours. With that settled, you steered the banter back toward lighter topics. Time slipped past unnoticed until the sudden glance at your watch made you realize that midnight was nearly upon you, and Yeonjun was nowhere within your line of sight. His absence tugged at your attention with a strange urgency. You excused yourself, sliding out of the chair and weaving toward the terrace.

Your shoulder bumped lightly against someone. You looked up to find Beomgyu, one of Yeonjun’s old friends, grinning at you. You exchanged a few light pleasantries before you asked with a small furrow of your brow if he had seen Yeonjun, noting that your calls had gone unanswered. Beomgyu’s expression shifted with a slight frown as he recounted that Yeonjun had been at the bar earlier, that he’d seemed fine then, maybe a little too enthusiastic about refills. You thanked him before letting him go to his own circle. Your gaze swept across the room before it landed on the bar tucked along the far wall.

He was there exactly as Beomgyu had said, hunched over the counter with a half-finished glass beside him. The sight nudged a fond exhale out of you as you crossed the remaining distance and took the stool beside him.

“You’re really dead set on making me drive us back, huh?” you asked, observing his reaction. 

Yeonjun’s head lifted, his gaze hazy yet catching yours with a slow widening of eyes as though he just realized you were there. The spark in them was dulled by drink but somehow still present, like embers beneath ash

“Oh,” he breathed, the word soft and warm as he leaned closer without thinking, his elbow slipping on the polished surface before he caught himself, “there you are,” then he folded again, cheek pressed to his forearm.

“So much for saying you’d find me,” you mused, eyes glinting as you mirrored his action and let the side of your head rest on your folded arm over the bar.

“Hi, love,” he sweetly drawled, voice thick with the haze of intoxication. He smiled dazedly at you, shifting his head only slightly so he could keep looking at you.

You couldn’t help the small coo of exasperation that slipped out, sitting upright and reaching to rake your fingers through the strands of his hair. “Hi,” you said softly, allowing your tone to mirror the warmth and care threaded through your touch, noting how his eyelids fluttered closed at the contact.

He hummed with the same stupid smile. How much did he drink to be this wasted? You were already counting the ways this night was ending with you behind the wheel. Good thing you had only one glass of wine.

He cracked one eye open, watching you from beneath his lashes before he frowned slightly, squinting at the space between you. “Too far,” he murmured, voice slurring. “Need you closer.”

He reached out, fingers wrapping around the side of your stool and with an easy pull he brought you closer until your knees brushed the edge of the counter and your hip pressed into his side. The lopsided smile returned on his plush, pink lips.

“Mhhm. Better.” 

The strength was casual yet intimate that it pulled a catch from your chest you hadn’t anticipated. It occurred to you a second later just how attractive that was. It was messing with your head.

“Jun, let’s go home.” You caressed his cheek. “Yeah?” 

But he didn’t seem like he was registering your words.

"Hey," he slurred, but somehow still gentle. "You… you're, uh, you’re so pretty," he continued, blinking at you as though it was the most profound revelation of the night. "Like, you’re so beautiful, you know that?"

You stifled a laugh, amused but also slightly worried as you reached out to straighten the collar of his shirt. You had seen him like this before, but tonight, there was something more raw about it.

“I know,” you teased with a hint of tenderness in your words. “I’m pretty sure you’ve told me before.”

He shook his head, a goofy grin spreading across his face as he sat up again, and leaned toward you, almost tripping over his own feet from the tool. You had to suppress another laugh, but your heart was full watching him act so carefree and so uninhibited.

“No, no,” he argued, shaking his head. “I mean like, really pretty. You’re… you're so pretty, it’s like…” He paused, his brow furrowing as though searching for the right words, but only the most basic thoughts slipped out. “It’s like you’re glowing. Like… an angel or something. I don’t know how anyone can look at you and not… not, like, fall in love with you.”

Your smile locked in place, then faltered, and then slipped away altogether as his words echoed back at you in pieces that refused to arrange themselves into anything sensible. Could he possibly be mistaking you for someone else? Seeing through you instead of at you, that somewhere in the crowd there was another woman he’d confused you for after too many drinks? 

But his attention didn’t drift, didn’t waver, didn’t go looking for anyone else. It stayed locked on you. 

“You’re drunk.” You aimed for reason, though the end of the sentence softened despite your effort. “You don’t mean that.”

He frowned at you as if you’d spoken a language he didn’t recognize. You watched his expression go pliant, noticed the slight stagger in the way his shoulders adjusted as he tried to keep himself upright on the stool but still gazed at you with such intensity that it made your heart race. His eyes were glossy like he was tearing up at the way you spoke to him.

“No,” he said firmly. “I do mean it. I’m, like… so in love with you, you don’t even know. Like— right here.” He pressed his palm clumsily to his chest, missing the mark and correcting himself with a breathless laugh. “I’m so in love with you, it makes my chest hurt, but in a good way. I can’t even explain it, it’s like… every time I see you, I feel like I’m falling all over again, over and over. It’s so much. I can’t keep it in anymore.”

“You—” you tried, leaning forward instinctively as his balance tipped toward you. Yuo could see the earnestness in his eyes even as they were clouded with alcohol. His breathing was stuttered, bottom lip plush and glistening as his tongue swept across it absentmindedly.

He reached out, clumsily touching your cheek first before finding its place properly. “I don’t care if it sounds stupid,” he muttered, the sentence breaking when he swallowed. “I’m so in love with you. I just... I just want you to know that. I need you to know.”

You had always thought drunken confessions were a convenient excuse for honesty rather than proof of it, because it seemed impossible that anyone could loosen their guard so completely that every carefully tucked-away feeling spilled out all at once, raw and unfiltered and beyond retrieval. You were so wrong. It was unfathomable that your childhood friend, the boy who knew every phase of you and whom you had loved far longer than you ever admitted even to yourself, just laid his heart out to you.

You took a deep breath trying to keep your composure and to remind yourself where you were and who you were being in this moment. But your heart was racing, your stomach doing flips.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning,” you said softly, as you guided his hand away from your face, not pushing it aside but redirecting it to rest against the bar. Your thumb brushed over his knuckles in a gesture meant to steady him more than anything else. 

He shook his head like a child. “No. I won’t. I can’t.”

You weren’t going to take advantage of this. This was a topic reserved for when you are both sober and can make decisions for yourselves. 

“Well, aren’t you a charmer,” you teased, brushing a stray lock of hair back from his forehead when it slipped into his eyes again. “But I don’t think you’re going to remember a single word of this in the morning. Tell me again when you’re sober, okay?”

He grinned, nodding far too eagerly in agreement. “No way I’ll forget. I’ll tell you again tomorrow, I promise.”

In that moment, you knew that no matter how silly the situation was, it didn’t matter. Because in his eyes, in the vulnerable honesty of his words, you could see the truth. And you would hold onto that, even if it was a little messy, a little imperfect. Even if it was drunk.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, Yeonjun had gone pliant in the passenger seat with his head tipped awkwardly toward the window. It told you sleep had already taken him halfway. You killed the engine, sat for a moment to let the silence settle, then reached for your phone and called Joonho downstairs.

Getting him inside took coordination more than strength. You wondered how Joonho carried him on his back because the latter was much bigger than him. You were grateful he still managed to do it. You followed close behind, peeling off Yeonjun’s shoes and tugging his socks loose, gathering what you could before they became obstacles. Once you were thoroughly satisfied that he was comfortable in his bed, you allowed yourself a final glance at his face before gently closing the door behind you. You decided to take the couch for tonight.

When Joonho was about to leave for his room, you called his name. “About me and Yeonjun… well,” you started, faltering as you searched for a clean way through the mess in your head.

Joonho turned slowly, watching you with far too much patience. “Did he…?” he prompted, leaving the rest open for you to fill in.

You narrowed your eyes at him, exhaustion sharpening your voice. “You knew?”

His grin was unapologetic, wide, and entirely too pleased. It answered everything. 

In a way you were glad you didn’t have to explain everything from the beginning. Turned out, Joonho had always been watching the two of you dancing around each other in ways that weren’t only just visible to the two of you. His satisfaction at finally hearing you admit it was truly a sight to see. Over a bottle of wine, the two of you talked.

You went to sleep that night feeling oddly settled, your doubts dulled by Joonho’s reassurance and the simple relief of having said it to someone out loud. You couldn't say the same thing for Yeonjun though. Because early in the morning, you had to leave for your place to oversee the renovation work in person, trusting Joonho to handle Yeonjun’s inevitable hangover.

You wouldn’t be meeting Yeonjun until night. The knowledge followed you through the latter half of the day like a tenacious hum in your mind, growing louder with every passing hour of the year-end closing shift. By the time you finally clocked out and stepped into the evening air, the nervous energy had settled so deeply into you that it felt almost juvenile, a jittery awareness that made you scoff at yourself for feeling like a teenager again when you had lived so much more life than that. 

The text from Joonho arrived just as you were merging onto the road home, announcing he wouldn’t be back until morning, capped with a teasing line about doing whatever you two wanted in the empty house. Having the place to yourselves should not have made your pulse kick the way it did (yet it did) and you exhaled through a short laugh that did nothing to calm the way your fingers tightened briefly around the steering wheel.

The apartment lights were on when you arrived. You toed off your shoes and followed the sounds of movement into the kitchen, where Yeonjun stood by the counter as he reheated dinner he clearly hadn’t eaten. He startled when he noticed you, bumping against the counter and reaching too quickly for a glass.

“Oh—you’re home,” he stuttered as he filled it with water before setting it down between you without lifting his eyes. “You must be starving! I, um—I didn’t know what you’d want, so I just—there’s food, if you’re hungry. Or we can—you don’t have to eat now. I mean. Later is fine too.”

He glanced toward you, then immediately back to what he was doing. The counter between you a narrow barrier that felt intentional even if neither of you had named it. You reached for the glass he’d offered, watching how his gaze fixed stubbornly on the microwave timer instead of your face.

“You’re awfully bad at keeping promises,” you said lightly as you took a sip.

It was meant as an airy remark to gauge his reaction. You smiled into the rim of the glass because you were already certain, from the way his shoulders tightened, that he remembered last night in full.

The silence was punctuated by the low hum of the microwave which suddenly felt too loud. Yeonjun exhaled hard as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, finally glancing your way before dropping his eyes again.

“Sorry, I, uh—” he started at once, turning the apology over itself before it could land properly. “I drank way too much. I shouldn’t have disappeared like that, and you had to come find me, and then you drove us back when it should’ve been me—I swear I didn’t plan to—” He stopped, swallowing, voice lowering as if he were afraid of the next part even existing out loud. “I… must’ve said something. Last night.”

You nodded slowly, appearing composed on the surface but inside you were folding in on yourself because there was no artifice in him at all — just this tall, capable man suddenly reduced to nervous hands and a voice that kept tripping over itself.

His restlessness mellowed out the jitter buzzing under your skin, smoothed it down into something more daring. You felt the urge to poke at him gently, to test how much space there was for play between the two of you now. You almost did, but you held yourself back when you noticed the way he still kept refusing to meet your eyes.

“I didn’t mean to put that on you,” he said, shaking his head as if he was disappointed in himself. “I know it wasn’t fair, especially like that. If I crossed a line—”

“You didn’t,” you cut in gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But I’m not going to talk about it unless you’re sure you want to.” 

You had waited before. You could wait again. You would not chase what hadn’t been chosen — even if every part of you hoped he would turn around on his own.

The smile you offered him was soft and open, assuring him that you meant what you said, and with that you moved around the island. You intended to give him space, to let him breathe, to let the moment pass if it needed to.

You barely made it a step past him before his hand closed around your wrist.

“I meant every single word I said.”

He didn’t face you.

A shiver ran across you at the sound of his voice pitched lower like that, starting at your shoulders and spreading down your arms. Your breath left you in a controlled exhale though your heart had started misbehaving entirely.

“Then look at me,” you said gently.

A soft instruction rather than a demand — one he ignored by keeping his gaze fixed ahead and his shoulders only lifted with a shallow breath. You stepped closer, lifting your free hand to his face, your fingers fitting along his jaw. You guided him toward you without force, your thumb brushing his cheekbone.

“Do you remember,” you began, keeping your voice light as your fingers slipped into his hair, “how I told you last night that you’d have to say it again when you were sober?” You traced the shell of his ear as you spoke, basking in the small hitches of breath he gave you at the contact.

His hand slid to the small arch of your spine, drawing you closer until the space between you narrowed and the sudden proximity sent a sharp jolt through you that you refused to retreat from. You tipped your chin up, meeting him with a calm smile that took effort you didn’t show, even as your pulse skittered under his touch.

Yeonjun let himself look at you properly instead of just fleeting glances. Your heart soared because the same earnest intensity you had seen the night before was there again swirling in his orbs — and this time — stripped of any alcohol. His hands settled at your waist, thumbs pressing in as he closed his eyes for a brief second.

“I love you,” he said, voice gravelly from raw honesty. “It’s been so long since I started loving you that I don’t even remember when it began. All I can tell is that I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Damn his foolish heart for betraying him so openly by letting his gaze be drawn again and again to the soft curvature of your mouth. Fractured thoughts scattering in every direction at once, his mind cycled through each possibility and tallied the ways he could have misunderstood the way you looked at him tonight. Every glance from years past suddenly rushed forward to stand trial alongside this one.

Regardless, your words of assurance came back to him. You had asked him to say it again when he wasn’t drunk, had asked him to stand by it with a clear head and an even voice, and that had to count for something, didn’t it? There was no sense in punishing himself for finally doing the one thing he had always done too late. If all you were asking for was truth, and if all he could offer was himself, then he would do that much at least, even if the thought of losing you after this frightened him more than silence ever had.

Maybe honesty, once finally spoken, deserves to stand without apology. 

You, meanwhile, felt warmth spreading through your limbs until it left you lightheaded, buoyed by a feeling that bordered on giddy. A soft laugh escaped as you let your forehead fall against his chest, your hands abandoning his face to curl around his neck instead. You felt Yeonjun shudder above you as he quietly said your name. That made you stare up at him.

“What took you so long, hm?” you said at last with a rueful smile, before you shook your head at yourself and corrected course mid‑thought, your fingers flexing lightly at the nape of his neck. “No—no, that’s not fair. I shouldn’t say that to you. This isn’t on you. If anything, I should’ve been honest sooner. Maybe then we wouldn’t be standing here now, years late to our own conversation. I chose not to want you. I was—”

“Scared,” Yeonjun softly finished your sentence, speaking for the both of you. 

You nodded. “But I was wrong.”

You fought the urge to playfully jab him in the ribs when you saw his signature sly smirk appearing slowly in his lips. His eyes, once pouring with so much rawness, narrowed slightly but nonetheless still held the rawness. There was just a spark of heat in them now.

“‘Wrong’ how?” he leaned in until the space between you thinned to breath and heat, his words brushing your mouth more than reaching your ears. “I need you to be more honest with me here, love,” he added, gaze flicking once to your lips before lifting again.

You let out a short scoff and tipped your head back a fraction, denying him the closeness while keeping his attention exactly where it already was. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t want this too,” you replied. “And I wouldn’t have asked you to tell me you loved me when you were sober if I hadn’t meant it.”

His chest gave a quick thrum — a reminder that it had never learned restraint where you were concerned. Yeonjun followed to fill the gap you created, stepping forward until the counter met the back of your hips. He set both palms against the surface on either side of you, lowering his head to be eye level with you. His presence eclipsed everything else.

“Please, tell me before I lose my mind,” he rasped. “Because—oh God—I’ve been holding myself back for so long.”

Your teeth caught your lower lip as you considered just how much more you could push before it became unfair. You had tortured him enough. Your hands — one slid down his chest, fingers spreading over his sternum, the other finding its way back to his face and cupping his cheek as you guided him closer.

“I love you, Yeonjun,” you said, every word chosen and owned. “I always have.”

His lips were softer than anything you've ever known. It's soft like the first snow, like biting into cotton candy, like melting and floating and being weightless in water. It was sweet, so devastatingly sweet and it bloomed until your senses were overwhelmed. 

He pulled back sooner than you were ready for and you chased the space without thinking. Your fingers curled into the fabric at his shoulders as a small sound slipped from you, breathless and needy in a way that made him shudder as if he’d felt it in his bones.

“You have no idea how many times I talked myself out of this,” he said, voice low and rough as his forehead brushed yours, his thumb tracing along your jaw before slipping beneath your chin, tilting your face up again because he needed to see your eyes while saying it.

You laughed breathlessly and tugged him closer, forcing him to feel how little space there was left to negotiate. “You don’t look like someone who’s been holding back,” you replied, tipping your head just enough to brush your nose against his, stealing the air he’d been breathing.

He chuckled, the sound barely there before you pulled him back in and this time there was nothing cautious about it. You had never gotten so lost in a kiss before. Your heart kept tripping over itself as your fingers dragged him closer, closer, still not close enough. You had loved before but it didn’t feel like this. You had kissed before but it didn’t burn you alive. It left you flushed and dizzy and wanting more.

Yeonjun’s hand slid into your hair, fingers spreading at your scalp as he tipped your head back, deepening the kiss until your breath caught. His other arm wrapped around you and lifted you without warning, setting you on the counter as he stepped in between your thighs. You hooked your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as his mouth worked yours with growing insistence. You found yourself gasping for breath, whimpering when he bit your bottom lip as his other hand braced beside you.

The haze of sensation left your vision swimming, every nerve alive as his fingers slipped under your shirt, tracing the heated planes of your skin, teasing, exploring, igniting sparks that sent heat skittering through you. He pulled back only slightly before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

"Sometimes, all I can think about is this—us like this, you in my arms. Underneath me, too." His lips brushed yours again, then he exhaled. “No—forget that. You deserve more respect than that. I just… I haven’t been able to stop myself from wanting it.”

You smiled at that, resting one arm across his shoulder while your other raked through his hair. You tilted your head and hummed.

“What else do you wanna do?” you asked, voice dipping.

He pretended to ponder as he narrowed his eyes, gaze flicking away before returning to you with a smirk. “Take you to dinner after this,” he said, hand shifting on your waist, drawing you closer. “Do things in the proper order for once.”

“Mmm,” you replied, rolling your hips forward just enough to press yourself against him, watching the way his breath hitched. “And then?”

He straightened slightly, lips curving as he leaned in to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Then we get dessert.”

“We’ve never waited for dinner to get dessert,” you murmured, the challenge clear as you grinded against him again, smiling when his inhale went sharp and his hand slid down to your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he said, a rough laugh in his voice as his grip tightened. “I had a very stable life before you moved in.”

“Ah,” you sighed, feigning a forlorn expression as your hand slid across his chest. “Then maybe we should stop. Let you go back to that stable life while I go to slee—waoh!”

Laughter erupted from you when he deftly lifted you up and carried you to his room. His mouth never straying from yours even as you both fell onto the bed in a disordered sprawl, the frame creaking softly beneath the sudden movement while his lips slipped from yours only to trail wet kisses down your jaw and throat, sucking and biting until your skin was a canvas of his marks. It sent shivers shooting down your whole body, your hips bucking. He settled between your legs and you felt the solid presence of him there pinning you to the mattress. 

His hands slid up your thighs and under your skirt. You moaned against his lips when he massaged the flesh there as he pulled back to stare down into your face while lifting the material, leaving a trail of goosebumps all the way up your thighs. You felt yourself clench around air, a sharp pulse of need in your core. Your hunger stripped everything down to sensation, and it felt dangerously good to stop resisting it.

His lips were swollen and damp when he paused. “You want this, right?”

Your breath came uneven as you swallowed. You had never been more sure of anything in your life. With a shaky laugh you nod, unbuttoning your dress shirt with a wolfish smile. 

He tongued his cheek at the sight of your black lacy bra and your expression, hands already reaching for his own clothes. He pulled his shirt over his head in one motion, muscle shifting under skin as he tossed it aside. You were on him immediately which he happily complied, wasting no time clashing his mouth against yours. Your hands were all over his torrid naked skin, touching and grabbing every inch of skin they could access. 

Your back arched as you broke the kiss with a moan when he slipped one hand underneath your bra and kneaded the mound of your breast. The barrier was making him impatient so he quickly worked with the clasp of your bra and flung it somewhere over his shoulder before greedily taking one perky nipple in his mouth. 

Your hand tangled in his hair as he sucked and nipped on your skin, the other hand busy where it rolled and pinched the other nipple in between his fingers. You felt like you could cum alone from nipple stimulation because holy shit he was so good at whatever he was doing. His growing hardness pressed insistently in between you, and you sought friction by trying to grind up against him. 

“Please, Yeonjun,” you breathed, the plea tugged loose as your hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer even as your back arched toward him.

He looked up at you through his lashes, releasing your nipple with a pop and grinned deviously. “I know, baby.” A quiet laugh brushed against your skin as he shifted, one knee nudging your thighs apart, his hand sliding lower to cup you through the thin barrier of fabric. His mouth returned to your throat as he spoke, words punctuated by the drag of his lips. “Need me here badly? I can feel how bad you want me.”

If you were in the right mind right now and not overcome by lust, you would have swiped that smirk off his face with a punch or some snarky remarks to reclaim a little pride. But all you could do was nod and do whatever to make him give you what you wanted. You tugged your skirt down your legs which had hiked up your waist earlier, and was about to tug your panties down too. You didn’t get far. His hand closed around your wrist and stilled you.

“Not yet.” His tone dimmed as he sat back on his heels. Gaze tracked you in a way that made you squirm like he’d decided to take his time and wanted you to feel every second of it.

Goosebumps travelled up your skin as you raised your eyebrows at him, wondering what he was waiting for. You bit your lip with hitched breaths when he thumbed your cunt over your panties, tracing over the slick dampness. He worked on his pants with the other hand, pulling out his hardened cock. Your body felt another rush of heat roll over when you took him in — long and veiny, a pool of pre cum already gathering at the tip. He gave himself a few lazy pumps with the same rhythm as he stroked you, brows furrowed with the sensation as a low groan slipped out.

“Didn't know you were a tease in bed, Jun,” you breathed out with a laugh, feeling yourself getting wetter as more slick gushed out.

He let out a throaty chuckle before kicking his pants off and climbing back over you, eager to kiss you again. “You have no idea,” he whispered against your mouth.

He greedily took in your moans when he pressed his leaking tip against your clothed cunt — a delicious friction that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your core. Each grind pushed the tip, the soaked cotton yielding just enough to let him tease the entrance of your aching pussy, but not enough to grant full access — leaving you teetering on the edge of frustration and ecstasy.

"God, you're so fucking hot," he teasingly groaned against your ear that sent shivers down your spine. 

Whimpering, you looked down at the place but he held your jaw and made your face tilt back up to kiss you again. Your body arched instinctively to press harder against him, the subtle drag of the panties creating a tantalizing burn that heightened every nerve. Yeonjun's grip on your jaw softened, his thumb brushing tenderly over your lower lip.

You bit your lip, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush, "I want you inside me, Yeonjun—please, I need it so bad."

At your unabashed confession, Yeonjun gave one little cheeky grin before finally hooking a finger into the edge of your panties to pull them off. The sudden exposure sent a rush of cool air over your swollen, dripping pussy, making you gasp as his cock slid fully against your bare entrance, the tip teasing your opening and agonizingly bumping into your clit.

You got up, pushing him back to sit down as you climbed on his lap and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. You nipped at his lower lip, sucking it gently between your teeth before plunging back in, the filthy slide of saliva mingling as you lost yourself in the sensation of his taste.

"Fuck, you're dripping for me," he let out a prolonged groan, his fingers sliding through your sopping folds. 

He pushed two digits inside of you with ease and you sighed at the stretch. His fingers curled inside you with a slow rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure that made your inner walls clench around him. You rocked your hips, grinding against his hand as his thumb brushed over your swollen clit, drawing out gasps that echoed in the dim room. Every breath you took was ragged, your skin flushed and slick with a light sheen of sweat. 

Yeonjun's dark eyes locked onto yours, his free hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer until your foreheads pressed together. "That's it, love," he murmured against your lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you, heightening the delicious friction as his fingers stretched and stroked your depths.

Through the haze of heady ecstasy, you looked down at him only to have your chest warm up. There was so much awe and love in his eyes. His devotion ran deeper for you than you could imagine.

You reached down to wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him. Yeonjun's breath hitched, a deep groan escaping his lips that mingled with your own soft whimpers. As the intensity built, your free hand clutched at his shoulder, nails digging in just enough to elicit another low growl from him. His cock twitched in your hand as he thrusted harder against you. The veins on his shaft stood out prominently against the backdrop of smooth skin slicked with precum and sweat. You could feel every ridge and pulse as you worked him with increasing fervor. 

But you didn’t want to cum just yet like this and neither did you want him to finish so soon, despite already dying to taste him. You released him before pushing his hand away from inside you.

You gave a breathless laugh when Yeonjun put his fingers in his mouth, pinning you with his gaze as he licked them clean. You lifted yourself up, knees sinking into the soft mattress on either side of his hips and aligned his cock with your slit. The thick, rigid length of him slid into you with a wet squelch, stretching your swollen folds wide as you sank down.

“Oh, fuck, y-you’re going to have to help me. Too, too tight,” you hissed, feeling waves of warmth travelling all over your body.

Yeonjun grunted as his hands found purchase on your hips, his grip tight and it felt so fucking good. You knew they’d be leaving bruises. Despite all the nudging and the rampant lubrication of your pussy, it still took a full minute, probably longer, to work his entire length inside of your tightness that made your thighs tremble, but you didn't stop there.

With a shared, heated glance, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and giving him easy access to thrust up on you, making you let out a high pitched whimper. Once Yeonjun was finally seated deep inside you, a shared sigh of relief and laughter escaped your lips, the stretch bordering on overwhelming but laced with a delicious ache that made your toes curl.

“My angel,” Yeonjun choked on his words as he ran his hands over your back, soothing you. “I love you so, so much—and I don’t know how I went this long without saying it out loud.”

You closed your eyes shut, head falling on his shoulders as countless tremors went through your body at his size. “Hah, it really did take you being drunk to finally say it,” you said between breaths.

He grinned, but it was a little lopsided, like he couldn’t quite hold himself together. "Yeah, but I'm glad I finally did. And I promise, I’m not gonna screw this up. I won’t. I’ll take care of you. I’ll always take care of you. No matter what."

You lifted your head up to return his smile, before leaning in to a kiss. His lips moved languidly with yours, tongue poking out to lick against yours. His hands wrapped over your back, drawing you flush against his chest, your breasts pressing into the firm planes of his chest. Your hands clutched at his broad shoulders, nails digging into the warm, sweat-slicked skin as you whimpered into his mouth, the kiss deepening with a raw hunger that mirrored the way his body claimed yours. 

"You alright?" he whispered, his voice a husky mix of concern and desire that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, biting your lip to stifle a moan, and he added softly, "I got you." 

His hands gripped your ass firmly then, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he began to guide your hips in a slow pace, lifting and lowering you with effortless strength. Each upward thrust drove him deeper, the friction building into a fiery crescendo that had you both groaning — his low, guttural sounds vibrating through your joined bodies, while yours escaped as breathless gasps. 

You could feel the veins of his cock pulsing and the heat of him seeping into you, making your inner walls clench in desperation for more. His breath was hot against your neck, a ragged rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your heart as he continued his torturous grind. 

With a low growl, he eased you backward, his strong arms supporting you as he laid you down on the bed. Yeonjun paused for a heartbeat, savoring the sight of you laid out before him — body flushed with sweat, boobs lightly swaying with every rise and fall of your breath, eyes half lidded and glossy that matched your glistening pussy. His hands slid up to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your nipples as he began to move again, thrusts growing more purposeful. You were so lost in the blissful haze of pleasure coursing through you that the sudden wave of coldness and emptiness startled you; Yeonjun pulling out his entirety out of you, making you whine to get back the feeling of his warmth. 

Without warning, Yeonjun's strong hands gripped your waist, flipping you over, rolling you off your back and onto your stomach. The sudden shift left you disoriented, a jolt of surprise flashing across your face as you glanced back at him over your shoulder.

Gripping himself, he swiped the head of himself through your sticky folds, bumping your clit to slide back down to your center and it once again made you whine. The cool sheets pressed against your heated skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body hovering above you, his knees straddling your thighs to pin you in place. You felt his hard cock sliding along the curve of your ass before he positioned himself, the tip nudging at your slick entrance once more. 

“Yeonj—hnngf!”

With one easy thrust he entered you again, deeper this time, the angle pressing him against your most sensitive spots in a way that had you seeing stars. Yeonjun let out a low whine, his body collapsing slightly as he rested his head between your shoulder blades, his hot breath fanning across your skin like a branding iron.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum already," he choked out.

You tried to respond, but all that escaped was a breathy moan.

The prone position amplified every sensation, his body molding to yours as he lay partially over you, his chest brushing against your back with each shallow thrust. Your pussy clenched around him, the tight confines of your body gripping his thick length as he drove in and out, the friction building with an exquisite pressure that bordered on overwhelming.

He was so fucking deep inside you, rubbing against all of your deepest nerves. His moans and whines were music to your ears, his hot breaths came in ragged huffs tickling the nape of your neck, while his hands roamed possessively — one sliding under your hips to tilt them just right, the other threading through your hair to expose more of your skin to his lips.

Yeonjun's thrusts grew more urgent but they carried a tenderness too. His lips pressing soft kisses along your shoulder, whispering praises that made you feel cherished amidst the raw desire — how perfectly you fit him, how your body responded to his like it was made for him. Your fingers clawed at the sheets, the building pressure inside you coiling tighter with every deep pump of his hips.

You croaked out his name—"Yeonjun"—as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your walls spasming wildly around him, milking his length with uncontrollable pulses. He faltered then, his pace stuttering into erratic thrusts, a guttural groan escaping him as he buried his face deeper into the nape of your neck. Your gasps and moans fell like waterfall into the mattress as he drove you into it.

Sensing his restraint crumbling, he managed to gasp out, "Can't hold it back, love." His voice breaking with the effort, his hands trembling on your waist.

The plea in his words ignited a final surge of desire in you. "Come inside." The command breathlessly slipped from your lips as you craned your neck to look at him.

Perhaps it was the aphrodisiac and fucked out look in your eyes that made him surrender, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep into you, hot ropes of cum flooding your sensitive pussy. You felt every twitch, every warm rush, as it mingled with your own lingering aftershocks, leaving you both shuddering in the quiet aftermath.

Both of you stayed unmoving for a few seconds before Yeonjun eased himself out of you, his breath still coming in ragged gasps that matched the rise and fall of your back beneath him. Your spent pussy clenched slightly as he withdrew, a warm gush of his cum leaking out, glistening on your flushed skin and soaking into the fabric below. 

He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze at you. The moment rolled strangely after, breath still uneven between you as your eyes met in startled disbelief, and then whatever tension remained cracked open into soft, breathless laughter that shook through both of you. He reached out, pulling you into his arms as you nestled against him. Your lips met in a deep, lingering kiss, tasting the salt of your exertion, your tongue brushing his with a tenderness that made his heart swell.

You pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed, and began to whisper, "That was so—" but the words dissolved into another fit of giggles, your head shaking as if the sheer intensity defied description, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

Yeonjun silenced your laughter with another soft kiss, his hand cradling the nape of your neck, feeling the rapid beat of your pulse under his thumb. "Let's take a bath," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and soothing. "I'll clean you up."

The lukewarmness of the water wrapped around you both later. You guided him to sit on the edge of the tub while the water warmed, steam climbing the air and settling against your skin until the aches in your body began to loosen. He watched you with damp lashes and a softened smile, palms braced behind him as you tested the water, then turned the tap down a fraction and nodded to yourself. 

When he reached for the shampoo you caught his wrist and shook your head with a small smile as you took the bottle from him. “Sit,” you said, guiding him back with a press to his shoulder, and he let you without question. You worked the lather through his hair, thumbs circling his scalp until his eyes slid shut and his shoulders dropped.

You followed with soap, careful hands moving over his back and arms, rinsing him clean while water splashed against porcelain. Your fingers combed through his hair again and again, traced paths along his back and chest, kissing warm skin whenever the impulse struck. You spent long minutes on motions that served no purpose other than letting him feel held.

By the time you were done, his breathing had slowed, but his chest rose sharply once as he laughed under it, sounding close to tears instead. You frowned, kneeling immediately in between his knees to look at him. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes glassy as he blinked hard.

“I’ve never had anyone treat me like this,” he said, one hand cupping your face. “You know that I’m… not used to feeling like this, right? The people I’ve been with before were distant, and for the longest time I thought that was just how it was supposed to be. Until I started loving you.”

Your arms slipped around his middle, cheek resting on his shoulder letting the water run while you held him there. “I know,” you said softly, squeezing him just a little tighter. “And I promise you’re not going to feel like that with me. You deserve to be loved properly, Yeonjun, and I mean it when I say I’m all in—starting with making sure you never spend thirty thousand on five chillies again.”

His laughter broke through the tenderness as his smile softened into something fond and open. “Yeah,” he said, brushing his thumb along your cheek, eyes bright as he nodded. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

True that there had never been any childhood pinky promises between the two of you, no naive vows whispered under desks to look back on. But as you stayed there together, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the time it had taken to arrive here because the absence of those clichés hadn’t taken him away from you. Some stories didn’t need an early beginning to arrive where they belonged.

And god, you were never going to let Yeonjun feel alone or unloved again — not after everything he had already given to people who never knew how to hold him.

THE END.

"Keeho? What are you doing here?" You asked after opening the door to find him stood there in a comfy sweat set, his shoulders hunched, his face still decorated with the makeup from his earlier shoot.

"Do you not want me here?" He responded, lips pushed into a pout you would have cringed at were he any other grown man.

You rolled your eyes and tugged him in your apartment, locking the door quickly to turn and face him. Up close you could see the faint lines where his makeup had begun to crease and the hollowness beneath his eyes. 

"I just mean because your shoot ran so late... shouldn't you be home sleeping? You look exhausted."

He inched closer until his toes brushed yours, dropping his forehead down to rest on your shoulder. 

"I am...just wanted to see you."

Your heart swelled, threatening to burst through your chest. You'd only been together a few weeks and it wasn't the first time he'd spent the night, but it certainly was the first time he showed up unannounced. It made you feel nice knowing that even when he was exhausted, he wanted you. 

You raised a hand to rub over his neck, your fingernails climbing to scratch at his scalp. A small, muffled moan broke past his lips, his hands snaking around your waist to press you closer to his body.

You turned your head to press a kiss to his hair, murmuring low into his ear, "Let's go to bed then, hmm?"

You felt him nod before he raised his head, rubbing roughly at his tired, bloodshot eyes, smudging his black eyeliner.

He slowly blinked them open, fixing them on your shoulder where his head had been.

"Oops, sorry..."

You twisted to look and found a makeup stain on the white cotton. You turned back to squint at him, his lips pulled tight into a sheepish smile that told you he wasn't sorry at all. 

"Okay let's take your makeup off first." 

You grabbed his hand to drag him along with you to your room, ushering him in the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

When he emerged, dragging his feet and barely conscious, you quickly guided him to your bed, pulling back the covers for him to slip in. You sat on top of him, your legs straddling his waist, and reached over to your nightstand for the makeup wipes. You slipped a fluffy headband over his head to push his hair back, pausing to admire how adorable he looked, before plucking out a wipe from the pack.

Keeho's eyes were already half-lidded and threatening to shut, but he forced them open as you leaned over him.

"Close your eyes, Kyo."

"Wanna see you," he mumbled, the words slurring together.

"I'm not going anywhere," you said with a soft exhale.

He obeyed, allowing his eyes to slip shut, settling with resting his hands on either sides of your thighs.

You dragged the wipe across his forehead then down to his eyes, carefully removing the black smudges.

When you swiped at the concealer below his eyes, he winced, his face scrunching.

"Too rough?"

He shook his head no causing you to smile and lean down to peck his lips. You continued removing the makeup with gentle strokes down his cheeks, nose and jaw, his face relaxing after the long day beneath your caring touch. 

When you finished you swiped a toner pad to get rid of any remaining makeup, following it with moisturizer.

You massaged the creme into his skin, reveling at the way his lips parted to let out a pleased sigh.

"Feels nice..."

"Yeah? You like being pampered?" you teased, expecting him to scoff or brush you off.

Instead, he nodded with another low moan, cracking his glassy, tired eyes open to look at you with an intensity that sent butterflies swarming through your stomach.

"You're so good to me," he said through a shaky breath.

"You deserve it all," you replied, stroking light circles on his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs. You leaned down to place a soft kiss in the tip of his nose, your heart soaring when his cheeks instantly tinged a light pink. "All mine."

His hands tightened on your thighs. "Mmm, love being yours."

You finished spreading the moisturizer, your hands cupping his jaw in your palms. "All done."

You laughed when he opened his mouth to speak, his lips stretching into a big yawn instead, his hands falling limply from your thighs to the bed a moment later.

When his eyes closed again, you took the opportunity to climb off of him until he quickly took hold of your body to pull you down onto his chest.

"Don't do that..."

"I was just gonna throw away the wipes, Keeho."

"Later..."

You relaxed in his hold, conceding to his wants. You pressed a kiss to his exposed collarbone, then along his neck, up to his jaw.

He tilted his head down to blindly chase your lips with his eyes still closed.

"You're so needy, Kyo..." you cooed, giving in to press your lips against his.

He smiled against your mouth. "You like it."

You took him being distracted as your opportunity to roll off of him and slide under the covers. The second your head hit the pillow he was flipping over to lay half over your body, his head nuzzling into your chest. 

"Comfortable?"

"Umm," he grabbed your hand, placing it over the back of his head. When you began scratching it he sighed, the sound so soft and content it made your chest ache.

"Mmm, now I am."

He listened to the beat of your heart beneath his ear, letting it lull him to sleep. 

"I love you," he whispered a few minutes later, the confession barely audible.

Your heart hammered harder in your chest, your breath hitching. It was the first time he said that to you.

Before you could respond, his breathing evened out completely, his body going slack against yours.

You kissed his hair, your fingers resuming their languid strokes.

"I love you."

He was already asleep, but you swore you felt him smile against your chest.

Comment or message to be added to the taglist <3

that night, you were sitting in bed, scrolling through social media, when you saw keeho’s story; he was out with his friends – who were your friends first – in a club or a bar of some sort, as if your absence didn’t bother him at all. as if he didn’t care you were gone. 

that’s when the first tears since the day of the argument fell, sharp sobs tearing your chest apart and stealing your breath away as you threw the phone off to the side and curled into yourself. it felt like the whole weight of the world fell onto your shoulders; you couldn’t understand how something so good ended faster than you could blink, and now it was just… gone. for good. like the whispered promises you had exchanged never really mattered.

you spent the next six days locked in your apartment, wailing in your bed and getting up only when it was absolutely necessary. you didn’t answer calls and barely ever responded to any of the worried messages you were getting from your friends. completing any chores felt like too much effort, and the thought of talking to anyone alone made your stomach turn violently and a fresh wave of tears fill your eyes, so you kept to yourself.

it was taeyang who dragged you out of the misery.

on the ninth day, you woke up to the sound of someone banging on your front door, impatient and seemingly angry. you didn’t mean to respond at first and pulled the covers over your head and pressing pillows to your ears in hopes that whoever was on the other side would get bored and leave, but the knocking didn’t stop. it only got even louder the longer it went unanswered, so despite your puffy face and the dirty t-shirt on your shoulders, you forced yourself to get out of bed.

it shouldn’t have surprised you at all who was the person behind the relentless banging – taeyang was one of your closest friends, and one of the only ones who, despite being a mutual friend of you and keeho, stayed with you and not with him. 

the said man’s face fell the moment his gaze landed on you after you opened the door, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. he looked up and down your dishevelled form, and the corner of his lips curved into a disapproving frown.

“you look like hell,” he commented – on point, yes, but still rudely and unnecessarily – as he pushed past you and invited himself inside.

you sighed, but you didn’t have the energy to try to stop him, so you resigned yourself to closing the door behind him. “thanks. i feel like hell too.” 

taeyang didn’t seem too bothered as he walked further into your living room. it looked like he was about to regale you with another witty comment about your current state, but he suddenly halted with his mouth open, and his nose scrunched in disgust. “jesus, did something die in here?”

a sharp stab of irritation stung in your chest at his words and you didn’t fight the urge to roll your eyes, though any feeling other than the constant sorrow for once felt very welcome at the moment. you crossed your arms at the chest with a long exhale, feet planted in one spot near the door in case he changed his mind and decided to leave you alone after all. “don’t piss me off, taeyang. i don’t have the energy for this. what do you want?”

“i came to check on you, obviously,” his voice dripped with bitter attitude you learned to recognise as care after years of friendship, as he slid his hands into his pockets and marched nonchalantly into your kitchen. “seems like i was right about you needing it.”

you didn’t respond this time, instead opting to observe as he opened cabinet after cabinet, peeking into the drawers first and the fridge next, his frown deepening after seeing each empty shelf. 

“you’ve been living off of cereal?” his gaze flickered between you and the sad-looking box of some kind of colourful treats consisting of more sugar than anything else that he took out of your otherwise nearly empty pantry. 

the disapproval in his voice made you squirm a little at last, your lips pursing as you looked everywhere but at him to avoid the nagging. 

“no…” a half-lie, but so unconvincing you winced internally. “...i ordered takeout a few times.”

even with your eyes on the floor, you could hear the way taeyang dropped the box onto the counter with a deep sigh that sounded nestled somewhere between disbelief and pity, before turning towards you fully. “that’s it. we’re going shopping.”

your heart dropped to your stomach. the last thing you needed was the world seeing you in your lowest state since your teenage years, and facing the said world seemed like a challenge you weren’t ready to face.

“i don’t wanna go…” the whine you let out was almost childish, and the impression only grew when taeyang grabbed your wrist and you dug your heels into the floor in response. 

“come on, you can’t just rot here forever.”

“teayang, please, i don’t want to–”

he spun around suddenly to face you, his expression hardening as he spoke in a firm tone you don’t remember hearing from him in a long time, if ever.

“so you’re gonna let him win?” he stepped closer, towering over you slightly and glaring down at you as you slowly deflated. “you’re gonna let a guy make you this miserable while he’s out there living his best life? look at yourself.”

you swallowed heavily, tearing your gaze away from him to glance down at your stained, sweaty pyjamas, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you. 

…god, you really were being pathetic, weren’t you? how could you let yourself go like that? 

there was a long stretch of silence as you pondered under the pressure of taeyang’s hard glare – then you exhaled, shoulders slumping as the stubbornness left your body. “...okay, okay. just... let me change.”

your friend leaned back finally, lips curling into a smirk and chin raised in triumph as he watched you retreat into your bedroom, this time not with the intention to lock yourself inside for days on end. “you’re gonna take a shower, too?”

“you’re pushing it, taeyang.”

the store was too bright, too loud, and too crowded for your shattered nerves. you almost forgot what it was like over the previous days when you isolated yourself from everything and everyone and burrowed yourself in your own sorrow, and now that you were back outside you thought maybe rotting in your bed wasn’t all that bad. 

you felt sick to your stomach walking through the dairy aisle and watching the happy faces of families, couples, and friends who looked like a couple, that seemed to mock you with their carefree smiles, as if everyone wanted you to stay miserable. 

taeyang kept talking to you the whole time, something about the shopping list and dinner plans, but all his words flew over your head. your head was constantly at war, a hellish back and forth of thinking about him and mentally slapping yourself for it while your fingers physically twitched, already enough times to give you cramps later. 

“–or should we get more?”

your gaze snapped up from the floor when taeyang’s voice suddenly cut through the fog. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you blinked fast, only then realising how little you must have been blinking. “get more of what?”

the glare the man sent you was, to put it nicely, unimpressed. he crossed his arms at his chest, and the twitch of his jaw signalled that the only thing keeping him from whacking you in the head were the people around you. 

“the yoghurt,” he sighed, “the one i’ve been talking about for the past three minutes. do you think we need two cups or more?”

it was the second time that day that you felt this stupid under taeyang’s judgemental stare. your eyes drifted away from his as you swallowed harshly, your face twisting into a frown from the sheer discomfort. 

“oh, um…” you had no idea what he was talking about, or what he had been talking about since you entered the store, and somehow the question felt like none of the possible answers was the right one. “just… whatever you want, i guess.”

the groan he let out in response made a few heads turn, but he paid it no mind as he reached out to grab your shoulder, firmly enough for his fingers to dig into your skin slightly. 

“pull. yourself. together. you haven’t said a single word since we came here. have you even been listening to anything i said?”

you could feel the nosy stares on your back, and the unwanted attention made your skin prickle and the hairs on the nape of your neck stand up. 

“alright, alright, i’m sorry,” you made sure to keep your voice quieter than his as you yanked your arm out of his grip, palms open in front of you in a calming gesture. you fought the urge to roll your eyes – the last thing you needed was for this to escalate into an argument in the middle of the grocery store, so you took a step back with the intention to go back to shopping and get it over with as fast as possible. 

“i was just thinking, it’s really not that–”

your words cut off when you walked into something before you could even take another step, a surprised oof leaving your mouth instead. you stood frozen for a moment as your brain caught up with what happened – and then what you thought was an oddly placed refrigerator or, worse case, an elderly lady who overheard your whole conversation with taeyang, turned around.

and there he was.

it was as if time slowed down around you as you watched keeho’s features morph from mild irritation to shock, one hand holding the handle of the shopping cart in front of him and the other halted in the air with an airpod between his fingers.

and, damn it, he looked perfectly fine.

there was no sign of distress on his still stupidly handsome face – no dark bags under his eyes, no permanent crease between his eyebrows, no change in his skin tone from avoiding the sun for over a week straight. 

none of the things your face had now. 

he was dressed nicely, adequately, unlike the outfit you put together from whatever semi-clean clothes you fished out of your closet first. his hair was neat and clearly styled, unlike the tangled mess on your head.

how the fuck could he be so okay while you’re in shambles?

you weren’t sure how long you had been staring at each other in silence when a sudden sharp tug on your arm pulled you backwards, as taeyang led you out of the aisle and straight towards the cash registers, yoghurt be damned. 

you caught the last glance of keeho before you turned the corner, but all you could see was a blurry silhouette walking away in the opposite direction as your eyes filled with tears on the spot, the weight of the interaction crashing down on you. 

you didn’t leave your bed for the rest of the day.

by the second time you saw him, you had picked yourself up.

it was nearly a month after the first encounter. in the meantime, you cried for long hours, you retreated from social life again for a while. you were sure the universe was playing a cruel joke on you with the way your first attempt to go back to normal after the break-up ended up with you standing face to face with the reason for your heartache. 

but gradually, the feelings started to change. your tears dried out and the sadness turned into anger, which then turned into this odd mix of grief and freedom that you didn’t expect but was so liberating. you started replying to messages and accepting invitations to hang out. you picked up a brush and a lipstick again and chose nice clothes to wear just so you could feel nice, not for anyone else’s approval. 

you weren’t past it, not yet – you still couldn’t look at your photos with keeho without your throat tightening, and you had him blocked on all social media platforms because seeing him living his life so unbothered broke your heart all over again. 

but you were improving, slowly but steadily.

that day, you decided to finally do something for yourself, to do something on your own without relying on anyone else to make you feel good. you needed a few hours of peace and quiet, with no one and nothing to disturb you.

as you pushed the heavy wooden door open, you were immediately hit with the smell of books, dust, and gentle air freshener. the bookstore wasn’t too spacious – it was more of a hidden gem, secluded in a small alleyway between bars and convenience stores, where the owner knew her regulars by their name and greeted them with the warmest of smiles. you had always loved this place – you even took keeho here once or twice despite him not being too much of a reader; seeing the same bean bag you remember sitting at together while you read and he pretended to while his head rested on your shoulder made your heart skip a beat in the worst of ways, but you shook your head and kept walking further inside.

you wandered aimlessly between bookshelves, not focusing on finding anything specific but looking through the genres and authors until something caught your eye. you had lots of time to spare and even more things to get your mind off of, so you took your time as you leisurely traced the spines of the books with your finger and skimmed over the descriptions.

for a couple hours, it worked. your phone was on silent and your mind was blissfully undisturbed. you’d pick up a book, read the first couple of pages, then either put it in the basket on your arm if you liked it or put it back on the shelf if you didn’t. 

as you were moving between action and fantasy, a shadow passed by all the way on the other side of the aisle.

a shadow with hair in an awfully familiar shade of brown, and with a walk you could recognise from miles away in a street full of people.

your heart dropped to your stomach.

there’s no way, you thought. why would he even be here out of all places?

that couldn’t possibly be him, right? he never read a single book from the bookstore in all the times you dragged him here.

that must have been your mind playing tricks on you. remember what taeyang said? pull yourself together. 

you ignored the full-body shiver that ran through you – out of horror or something else entirely, you weren’t sure – and moved to another bookshelf. your heart was beating out of your chest and your mind was anything but peaceful now, your thoughts relentlessly rewinding back to that shadow you saw, and it took everything in you to try to focus on the titles, needing to read each one three times before they actually stuck. 

come on. that. wasn’t. him. pull yourself together, he doesn’t deserve to make you feel like this–

“hey.”

the sudden voice coming from right next to you pulled you out of your stupor. you gasped, eyes widening, and jumped in the opposite direction on instinct before you took a look at the source of the sound.

fucking hell.

“sorry, i– didn’t mean to scare you,” keeho lowered his voice to barely over a whisper and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, all while you stood there as if rooted to the floor. 

you couldn’t fathom the sheer audacity he had to have to be standing here in front of you looking all… uneasy? guilty? while you held on as tightly as you could so your heart wouldn’t shatter into pieces again. 

without a word, you tried to step to the side and walk past him, but he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. the feeling of his warm skin on yours made your thoughts turn into static, but definitely not in a good way. 

“can we just talk?” his gaze met yours as he pulled on your shoulder so you’d face him, and the amount of contradicting emotions that bubbled up inside you felt like you were about to burst. but he held eye contact steadily, seemingly determined to get his way. “please?” 

for a split second, your heart softened. for a split second, you wanted to agree and talk to him and explain everything and get him back. god, did you want that.

but that split second passed, and what you thought were butterflies in your stomach turned into stones that weighed on you until you felt nauseous. what you thought was longing turned into anger that made your blood boil.

pull. yourself. together.

you yanked your arm out of his grip, and met his gaze head-on. “there’s nothing for us to talk about,” the tone of your voice was firm and cold, so much that keeho’s face twisted into shock. “you’ve already said enough, didn’t you?”

and with that you turned away once more, not sparing him another glance as you made a beeline towards the exit.

keeho called your name behind you, arm stretched out like he wanted to try to catch you one more time, but the clerk behind the counter shushed him with a disapproving look – and before he could catch up to you, you were gone, your basket full of books abandoned on the floor.

the third time, you almost didn't care.

It had been weeks since your friends heard you talking about keeho, and even longer since they saw you crying because of him. you were relearning how to have fun by yourself and reconnected with the people you had cut off during the worst of your heartbreak – you realised there was so much more to life than the one man who let you go so easily, and so much more to your worth than him. you still had him blocked on every platform you both used, as well as his phone number (the name of which you had changed to ‘DO NOT UNBLOCK’), and the urges to reach out and booty call when you were lonely were getting less and less frequent. it was a long process, but you were healing.

this time around, you were out with your friends – “four full weeks since you’d last mentioned the one who should not be mentioned” as they called it, but you suspected it was really just another excuse to dress up pretty and get shitfaced. 

the club was bustling despite the early hour; it was barely past eleven, yet the friday night air must have brought everyone in already because the stench of alcohol and a few tens of sweaty bodies rubbing against each other hit you right at the doorstep.

did you want to go in? you weren’t entirely sure, but you hadn’t been in a club as a single woman since you got together with keeho, and you knew you were in desperate need of a night without a care in the world, so you squared your shoulders and took a deep breath.

at last, your friend, mia, pulled you inside with a firm hold on your wrist, while taeyang and his friend that he brought tonight, intak, strutted behind you. you squeezed through the dense crowd near the coat hooks, clutching your purse for dear life and trusting mia’s instincts to lead you towards safety, until you could finally breathe when the crowd dispersed around between the dance floor and the bar. she wasted no time before skipping over to the bar and ordering a round of shots, and it took her exactly one glance towards intak (at which taeyang rises an eyebrow) for him to giggle fumble to fish his wallet out of his pocket and pay for all of them. 

the harsh taste of liquor stung your throat as you threw your head back, your face twisting into a grimace, but before you could open your eyes fully again one of your friends held out another glass right in front of your face. you sighed, but that’s about all of the hesitation you had before you switched your empty glass with this one.

soon enough, the music got louder in your ears and the floor started spinning under your feet as you swayed on the dance floor. your hair was messy and sticking to your sweaty forehead, and your dress was probably all dishevelled and bunched up, but your smile was wide and, god, you hadn't felt this alive in months. it’s like everything that has ever troubled you didn’t matter for those few hours – only you, your friends, and the anticipation of what song was going to play next. 

between the music and the constant chatter of people around you, you completely missed whatever mia was yelling to you over taeyang’s shoulder. 

“what?!” you shouted back, catching yourself on his other shoulder so you didn't stumble before curling your palm around your ear to hear better.

mia leaned in closer in response, then took a deep breath. 

“I NEED TO PEE!” 

the scream she let out straight into your pinna was so loud you physically jolted back and nearly bumped into someone standing behind you.

“no!” you grasped her shoulders as if your life depended on it, your voice cracking mid-sentence. “don’t leave me with the men!”

intak and taeyang, having heard every other word from the distance, only exchanged confused glances when she suddenly snatched your hand and led you away from the crowd, screaming something about being about to piss herself over the music.

the line to the bathroom was surprisingly short, and with a couple of people leaving and the other few allowing you to go first after seeing mia’s clearly distressed state, you got in before your drunk mind could count to twenty. 

the inside was a vibe on its own – sticker-covered walls, stall doors nearly falling out of the hinges, and a line of men and women and various people in between reapplying make-up in the fogged mirrors above the sinks. the music was still loud even after the door shut, enough to keep the party going even here, but it was muted enough to be able to talk without screaming your lungs out.

mia disappeared inside one of the stalls before you even took a good look around, and at first you leaned back against the opposite wall with the intention to wait until she’s done – but soon the song changed and the people standing at the sinks started shoulder-bumping you as they pushed each other towards the exit in excited hurry, so you quickly made up your mind and decided to use the chance to make sure your bladder wasn’t going to act up at the worst time, swiftly stepping aside to enter the next empty stall.

except, the stall wasn’t empty at all.

the handle gave under barely any force at all – clearly unlocked – and you moved forward before you noticed the two figures already inside, your mind catching up with your eyes too late. you yelped in shock, jumping back outside instantly as you apologised profusely, your gaze flickering anywhere but at them to at least give the illusion of privacy.

you were about to close the door and retreat in humiliation when your stupid, ignorant mind couldn’t help but steal the last nosy glance at the two.

 you really should have known better. because as their faces finally parted from each other, all dazed eyes and glistening lips–

…all dazed eyes, and glistening lips, and sharp cheekbones, and brown hair. 

you couldn’t believe your luck – or rather the lack of it. the person you fought tooth and nail to forget stood right in front of you in a dirty toilet stall in a club, one hand under the shirt of whoever the woman he was making out with was, and the other braced on the wall right above her head. 

he was staring at you like he couldn’t believe it either, the haze clearing from his eyes momentarily. he didn’t let go of the woman, but his arm twitched as if her skin burned before he thought about it better.

and the silence that fell in the bathroom was heavy with the weight of shared memories and the slowly overpowering feeling on both sides that what you two had was really, really over for good. this was the period at the end of the sentence that you didn’t have the courage to put until now.

the woman, still pinned to the wall by keeho, looked between the two of you with an expression more impatient than anything else. “girl, hello? close the fucking door.” 

her words shook you out of the initial surprise, your hand twitching away from the handle and letting it close back up once again. as if on cue, the other stall opened right the next second to reveal a slightly unsteady but visibly relieved mia, whose face went from intoxicatedly happy to very dramatically confused. 

“what happened?”

you stole one more innocent glance at the now closed door, behind which you could only imagine the show was going on again with renewed fervour – and that’s when you realised just how much you had changed, because instead of telling her everything and spiralling, you settled on a deep sigh and a dismissive wave of your hand before you took her arm and left the bathroom.

you were not nearly drunk enough for this.

#♡

“are you sure you want to go?” 

the look taeyang is fixing you with as you bustle around the room to put finishing touches to your look is an uncomfortable mix of concern and pity, his legs stretched out on top of your bed and his arms crossed at his chest.

“of course,” you sigh, putting the wand of your mascara back in the tube and fighting the urge to roll your eyes. this is the third time he’s asked you this this evening, and you’re not sure how to get it through his thick skull anymore. “i can’t not go to shota’s birthday party just because my ex is going to be there. i’m not going to force him to stop being friends with keeho for my sake.” the man’s frown deepens at that, a displeased sigh leaving his lips. “i still think it’s weird that he invited both of you. i’m sure he knows that you two didn’t end things on a good note,” a beat passes, the gears turning in his head, before he straightens up with a gasp. “unless keeho lied to everyone and said you agreed to stay friends or something– or worse, that you were the asshole.”

this time you do roll your eyes, sending him a glare that’s exasperated but also undeniably touched by his worry – and the commitment to being a hater.

“i don’t care what he says about me, taeyang,” you zip your purse after throwing the mascara in and check your reflection for the last time. “i’m gonna go there and have a good time, period.” 

your friend sulks in silence for a little longer, as if calculating the chances of a disaster happening. but he nods eventually, letting out a long exhale, and slides off of the bed. 

“fine. just stay close to me, okay?”

and shota’s party is fun. it’s nothing too crazy – he keeps his friend circle rather tight and his apartment is huge, so people are scattered around in small groups and mostly just catching up with old friends or making new ones while moving to the shared playlist playing through the speakers in the living room. 

taeyang doesn’t leave you alone for a second too long, dragging you behind to meet all of his buddies after giving shota his wishes, while also making sure you stay hydrated, as he likes to call it, though the beverages he hands you have little to do with preventing kidney stones.

and keeho… well, he’s here too. 

you actually haven’t caught a glimpse of him until a few hours into the party – whether he arrived late or was hiding from you, you have no way of knowing – and to your surprise, he’s been doing a good job at not staring you down across the room and keeping a respectful distance. 

that is, until jongseob enters the story.

he catches you by surprise, wrapping his arm around your shoulders from behind while you’re peacefully refilling your drink in the kitchen during taeyang’s trip to the guest bathroom, making you jump in surprise and nearly spill the contents.

“oh my god, is that really you?” he snickers at your terrified expression but makes no move to give you space. “we haven’t seen each other in years!”

a lie, obviously – it’s been a few months at most, and you and jongseob were never that close anyway, but he always had a knack for dramatics.

you barely have the time to fully recover from the shock and swallow down the last of your humiliation before he takes your hand and forcibly pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living room, where a small group of people you don’t recognise is already waiting for him.

but you truly start to believe that you must have somehow upset the divine force watching over you, because in between the strangers stands one person you wish were a stranger too, a pair of eyes staring right at you as you’re pulled into the circle. 

it’s just your luck, isn’t it? the hairs on your body stand tall while you do your best to act casual and avoid catching keeho’s gaze, the said gaze so intense you can almost feel it as a physical sensation. meanwhile, jongseob stays seemingly blissfully unaware of the air thickening around you, talking to his friends about some kind of story involving you that you barely even remember happening yourself while gesturing animatedly with his hands.

from the corner of your eye, you can see when keeho shifts his weight from one leg to the other and his jaw twitches just slightly. your polite smile falters, and you swear he’s about to finally break the silence when a warm hand wraps around your wrist firmly. 

startled, you whip your head to the side to see a very annoyed taeyang looming right behind your shoulder like a guardian dog and challenging keeho’s glare with his own.

keeho’s eyes flicker between his and your faces before drifting down to where he’s holding your hand – his expression hardening momentarily, and his hand that’s holding the half-empty bottle of beer shakes from how much his grip tightens.

the whole exchange feels like it’s going on for minutes on end for the ones involved, but it’s actually mere seconds before taeyang’s frown morphs into a friendly smile as if nothing ever happened in a disturbingly short time.

“hey, sobie,” he waves towards the younger man before turning to you. “i’ve been looking for you everywhere. shota said we can smoke on the balcony, you wanna come with?”

you don’t question where he got the cigarettes from or when he had the time to ask shota about it when the guy is standing on the other side of the living room as you speak – you’ll take any excuse to escape this situation you’re still not sure how you found yourself in, and this one is plausible enough.

it takes one nod from you for taeyang to quite literally yank your arm and haul you towards the master bedroom where the balcony is, his jaw clenched so tightly you wonder how his teeth aren’t hurting.

the night chill does wonders to your overheating body as you step through the glass door, and only now that you’re underneath the twinkling stars does he let go of the death grip on your wrist.

leaning against the railing, you take a deep breath to ground yourself after the intense emotions, and reach out an open palm towards your friend.

he looks down at your hand, then up at your face, and then does a double-take at your hand, all with an increasingly confused furrow of his eyebrows. “what?” “will you give me the cig?”

taeyang blinks, “i don’t have cigarettes.” “oh.”

he smacks your hand away and sighs deeply, leaning against the railing next to you and looking out into the distance. “you should be grateful i got your ass out of there. how did that even happen?”

“i don’t know!” you say defensively, rubbing your skin where it stings slightly from the impact. “jongseob found me in the kitchen and dragged me there before i could say anything. i didn’t even know he was friends with keeho!” the way his shoulders droop in resignation makes you feel guilty even though technically none of what happened was your fault. and, besides, you did pretty well keeping your face out there. you think.

the two of you stay on the balcony for longer than you initially thought you would, the quiet calming you down and the cool air sobering you up a little. you talk about the other guests at the party and your impressions of the ones either of you didn’t know before, the echo carrying the sound of your laughter into the night.

“okay, i’m starting to get cold. let’s go back inside,” taeyang says at last as he rubs his arms to get rid of the goosebumps on his skin. 

you watch him step back and turn around towards the door, but you hesitate. the quiet feels welcome after hours of loud music and talking over people, and you actually don’t mind the cold that much.

“you can go, i’ll stay here.”

the man stops in his tracks to look back at you over his shoulder, puzzled. he seems unsure whether he should let you stay alone after you got yourself in trouble in less than five minutes the last time he let you out of his sight, but the idea of staying outside and freezing while missing out on all the fun inside doesn’t appeal to him either.

“are you sure?” “yeah,” you send him a smile, reassuring but genuine. “i’ll be fine.”

there’s another beat of silence as he hangs back, not fully convinced, before he finally relents and nods and pushes open the balcony door. “alright then.”

after he disappears behind the bedroom door, you don’t even notice the time passing. it’s a nice change from all the noise inside even if it’s just for a while before you have to go back to the others – taeyang will probably get impatient soon enough and drag you out there himself anyway.

but until then, you get lost in your thoughts. 

you think about your friends – how much closer you’ve gotten with taeyang in the past months, and wonder how the ones that stopped reaching out to you are doing. about whether shota liked his birthday gift from you, about mia and intak and how they kept touching each other innocently during your last night out. 

you think about keeho too.

it’s something you haven’t allowed yourself in a while, but you’re just the right amount of tipsy and for some reason the night sky is putting you in a nostalgic mood.

you think back to the girl he was making out with in the club. was she his girlfriend? she’s not here today with him so you doubt that, plus you remember him as a bigger romantic than fucking his partner in a dirty toilet stall. though he’s also the biggest example of how fast people can change, sometimes in drastic ways, so you can only assume.

then you think about his reaction to taeyang holding your hand earlier. his expression turned into something you couldn’t quite decipher – anger? shock? disgust? why would he even care in the first place?

you’re so deep in your own head you barely hear the noise of the balcony door creaking open behind you, but it’s enough to bring you back on earth.

“taeyang, i’m fine. i’m gonna get back to you guys in a moment,” you murmur without turning around, fully convinced that the person is no one else but your friend who, as you predicted, started getting jittery without you.

how big your surprise is when the voice that calls out your name is not even close to taeyang’s, but lower in pitch and almost hesitant.

god fucking damnit.

keeho bristles at the silence from your side, the softness in his tone disappearing and giving way to a sarcastic edge. “you could at least reply, you know.”

oh, does that piss you off. not only did he handle the breakup poorly and somehow always showed up exactly where you were just to disturb your peace, but now he’s giving you attitude too? 

you push yourself away from the railing at last, whipping around to face him fully, your shoulders squared. he’s standing no more than a meter away from you, arms crossed at his chest and his lips pressed together tightly. 

“i don’t want to talk to you, keeho. get out.”

but keeho has no intention of getting out. his feet are planted firmly in the spot as he eyes you up and down with the same kind of look from earlier today. “so are you and taeyang a thing now or do you guys just sleep together?”

a beat of stunned silence passes after his bold accusation as your brain struggles to comprehend the sheer audacity of the man. “what– no, we’re not–” you kick yourself mentally for the way you stutter, probably stripping yourself of all credibility, but the anger remains. “why do you even care? you’re the one who hooked up with a random girl in the fucking club bathroom.”

he, contrary to you, doesn’t seem too bothered by your words and only snickers at them before narrowing his eyes. “oh, please, like you weren’t there to do the same thing.”

“i wasn’t!”

you can’t believe your own ears. did he really corner you alone on the balcony just to accuse you of sleeping with your friend and his ex-friend? even if you were, you’re a big girl and you can do whatever the fuck you want without needing anyone’s nose in your business – especially his.

keeho all but backs down, raising his eyebrows at your denial like he doesn’t believe a word you say.

“does he fuck you better? or is he just a rebound to get back on–”

the balcony falls silent after your palm connects with his cheek with a loud slap of skin against skin that echoes in the quiet. his head jerks to the side, eyes widening in pure shock as he stumbles a bit on his feet. slowly, his hand comes up to gently prod at the already reddening skin as if needing to check if this really happened. when his gaze finds its way back to yours, there’s fire in it.

next thing you know, he reaches out with that same hand to grab the back of your neck and yank you forward, crashing his mouth into yours.

you let him kiss you for a few seconds without a response as your brain catches up, then you brace your hands on his chest and push him away, just enough to break the connection.

“keeho–”

“shut up.”

when he presses his lips to yours again, still fierce but not as brutal as the first time, the familiarity of it overpowers all rationality you have left. against your better judgement, you melt against him, your arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close as you kiss him back with equal fervour.

a small sound between a sigh and a moan bubbles up from your throat and makes keeho smirk at how easily you gave in after all that talk, but you bite down on his lower lip in retaliation, causing him to let out an even more pathetic sound into your mouth.

and god knows you missed this.

your head is blank of everything other than him as his tongue delves between your lips and his hands skim up your sides under your top hungrily, the warmth of them contrasting with the coolness of your skin from being outside for long. there isn’t a bit of space between your bodies, your whole front pressed flush against his from your chest to your hips. 

“you taste just as good as i remember,” your knees nearly buckle at the low murmur against your mouth, his voice holding that lustful edge you can’t help but want more of. 

and keeho must feel that because he drags his hands down the curve of your ass to haul you up by the back of your thighs, your ankles locking behind his back as he carries you inside, shutting the door with his leg before dropping you unceremoniously onto shota’s king-sized bed.

“it’s good to be back,” he smirks down at you from where he’s standing at the edge of the bed, palms resting on your knees.

you swallow harshly, trying to ignore the rapid pace of your heart and the heat in your lower belly that’s mixing with irritation at his cockiness. 

“you’re such an asshole.” 

the attempt at a jab only makes him grin wider. his hands leave your legs to hook under the edge of his shirt and tug it over his head, revealing the soft lines of his stomach and chest. you wonder if it’s your mind playing tricks or if he got even more ripped since you last saw him like this.

“i know.” 

then he’s back on you, crawling onto the bed and holding himself above you with his arms on both sides of your head as he kisses you again like the insult just turned him on more. it’s needy, rushed, and full of pent-up feelings you’ve both been pushing back for months on end, and the thrill of hearing the party blasting behind the closed door is the cherry on top. you don’t realise when all of your clothes are suddenly gone and thrown somewhere on the floor beside his, too caught up in the blissful feeling of his hands on you. it seems like he hasn’t forgotten his way around yet.

your breath hitches when he sits up on his heels between your legs, looking up and down your body with an appreciative and filthy gaze like he’s trying to memorise you all over again, and his eyes linger on the apex of your thighs.

“mhmm… i missed this pretty pussy,” he hums, one hand pushing your leg open further while he brings the other one up to lick the tips of his middle and ring fingers to wet them, before descending towards where you’re already throbbing eagerly. 

your mouth falls open at the first contact to your clit, the slow circles making your toes curl after so long without being touched by another person. you push yourself up onto your forearms and look up at him from under your lashes, your lower lip caught between your teeth and your cheeks already feeling hot.

keeho’s cock twitches at the sight of you like this – he can’t deny that he’s been thinking about this nearly every day since you ended things – but he tries to cover it up with another smirk. 

“yeah? you like that?”

the answer is yes, obviously, but giving him the satisfaction is the last thing you want to do, so you bite your lip harder to hold back any sounds threatening to escape.

but keeho doesn’t like being ignored. his expression changes to something darker as he smacks your folds without any warning, making you yelp in surprise. 

“cat got your tongue? you had so much to say earlier,” he delivers one more harsh slap before resuming circling your stinging clit, this time faster. “i asked you a question.”

this time you can’t keep it together and a choked whimper leaves your lips as your eyes roll to the back of your head, the slight pain from the smacks and the firm tone of his voice reawakening something inside you that you thought was long gone. damn him for remembering all of your weak spots.

“fuck– yes… feels good.”

keeho nods in approval, deliberately changing the pace of his movements to see your thighs tremble and to hear more of those delicious sounds you make. 

he licks his lips, eyes glued to your glistening cunt like his patience is hanging on the last thread. “you still on the pill, baby?”

“don’t call me that,” the defiance slips out without thinking like a defence mechanism, but the fight drains out of you, replaced by burning need, the moment he raises his gaze to your face with a quirk of his eyebrow. “...yeah.”

his voice wavers slightly, clearly struggling to hold back. “fuck yeah.” 

his hand leaves you to instead wrap around his cock, spreading your wetness over hot skin and pumping himself to full hardness before shifting closer and aligning the broad tip with your pulsing hole. there’s no foreplay, no kissing down your body, no preparation. 

just lust.

“deep breath,” the words are jarring, mocking almost, as he pushes on your chest to make you fall flat on the bed, and in the same moment he braces himself on his free hand and buries himself inside your cunt in one, deep thrust.

the sudden stretch drags a gasp out of your mouth, his head hitting your cervix making stars burst behind your eyelids. your hands latch onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, as he lowers himself onto your body and presses his face into the crook of your neck.

“god– fucking damnit…” he nearly growls out, the tightness stealing his breath away. he doesn’t move for a long while – more for his own sake than yours – savouring the familiarity of your walls clamping around his cock greedily as he steels himself so he doesn’t cum on the spot.

when he finally starts to move, it’s everything but reverent. he pulls out almost all the way before slamming his cock back inside, his hips colliding with yours with a loud sound from both of your throats, and repeats the same motion over and over, quick and steady and so fucking good. 

“this pussy… fucking wrecks me every time,” he emphasises the words with a deep grind that makes you cry out his name, and you have half the mind to pray that the music outside the room is loud enough to cover it up. 

your walls tighten around him when he crashes his lips against yours, earning a moan from him that reverberates into your mouth. 

“keeho–” you pant between kisses, “harder…” 

you can feel his hips stutter for a second at your gasped plea, before he finds his rhythm again with renewed vigour, granting your wish.

“yeah? you still like it rough, huh?” the wet sounds of his cock slamming into you fill the room, a drop of sweat running down his forehead from the exertion. on the brink of losing his mind, he raises a hand and slaps you across your face – not nearly as hard as you did to him earlier, but enough to sting and make your eyes water – before he lowers it onto your throat. “you still love how my cock wrecks you?”

you’re sure this is the end of you, because the second his hand connects with your cheek the coil in your tummy tightens impossibly, and you lose all sense of sane judgement. 

“yes! oh god– yes, please–” your head spins from the lack of oxygen, heightening the pleasure that threatens to take over. your hands grab onto whatever they can find – gripping the sheets, holding onto his bicep, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. 

you’re so close already, but keeho is even closer. he’s panting above you, his sweat dripping onto your chest, his jaw clenched tightly as he tries to hold back the inevitable. “fuck– i’m not gonna last… god, i missed this tight cunt–”

the shaky praises tumble out of his mouth one by one as his movements grow sloppy and uncoordinated, until he can’t hold it anymore and thrusts deep one last time as his cock twitches and spills ropes of thick cum inside your gummy walls.

you expected that to be enough to drag you over with him, but it’s not – not when he stops his movements altogether while he pulls himself together and catches his breath. 

you let out a frustrated whine, trying to push weakly at his shoulders. “k-keeho… please–” all you hear is a hitch of his breath before he pulls out, grabs your waist, fingers digging into your sides, and flips you over onto your stomach. your face is pushed into the pillow with a rough push on your head, and your hips are pulled up to present your damp, pulsing pussy. 

“you’re so fucking greedy,” keeho mutters. one hand gropes your ass cheek to spread you wider as he trails a finger through your folds where his cum is already trickling out of your hole. “you haven’t changed a bit, huh?”

the mocking chuckle he lets out when you push back against his hand needily makes your pussy flood with another wave of arousal, only affirming his statement. but he’s already half-hard again too, and he’s not about to deny you when you’re asking so nicely.

he slams into you with the same force as the first time, with the only difference being your cunt being used to his girth and the significant amount of lube produced in the meantime, so this time he fucks into you without any resistance whatsoever.

a sharp smack lands on your ass in time with another thrust so deep your face gets buried in the sheets, his other hand pulling you back onto him with a hold on your waist. 

“you squeeze me so good,” he grunts, watching your hole swallow his cock like it never wants to let go. “i bet he doesn’t fuck you like i do, hm?”

you mewl, fingers fisting the sheets, your words barely coherent in between moans and whines. “he’s not– mhmm… f-fucking me–”

the whimper morphs into a gasp when keeho suddenly lets go of his grip on you and instead lowers himself over you to take your arms and yank you backwards, hips pistoning into you faster as he holds you on your knees, back arched in a way that lets the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot every time. “a-ah–!” “doesn’t fucking matter,” keeho’s breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine. “you’re gonna miss this cock no matter who you end up with. no one knows your body like i do.”

and, god, you can’t even argue with that with the way your cunt is dripping, arousal trickling down your thighs with every precise thrust, your lips parted in a string of never-ending moans of pleasure. the feeling is building up impossibly fast, your climax approaching before you can fully realise – but keeho feels it. he can tell your pussy is clamping down on him harder and that your moans are becoming louder and more breathless, and he knows just how to force it out of you.

tightening the hold on your left arm, he lets go of the right one to slide his hand down your abdomen and between your thighs, and presses down on your clit in rough circular motions. “come on… fucking cream on my cock.” that’s all it takes for you to fall over with a ragged cry. the coil snaps and you nearly black out, ecstasy washing over you and swallowing you whole. your legs shake and your knees buckle, your cunt spasming around keeho’s twitching cock.

he lets out a curse under his breath at the tightness as he fucks you through your orgasm, and soon enough he joins you in the bliss, emptying his balls inside you for the second time with a rough groan.

when you come back to your senses and open your eyes, you’re lying on your back on the soft bed with keeho in the same position, panting beside you. you’re not touching, a safe space of at least half a meter separating you, but the air reeks of sex and you’re sweaty and gross and it’s all starting to dawn on you.

what have you done? you were supposed to be over him, not all over him. fuck, you were over him! stupid, stupid, stupid.

rushed by the panic rising inside you, you push yourself up without a word and start the search for your clothes scattered over the floor. how the hell are you going to explain this to shota? or, fucking hell, to taeyang?

keeho’s head raises from the bed while you’re pulling on your jeans, your bra clasped clumsily and your shirt hung over your arm. 

“where are you going?” he asks groggily, as if he managed to fall asleep in however little time it’s been since you finished… that.

you consider not replying, but the decent part of you decides he deserves at least some kind of explanation after he just had sex with his ex-girlfriend, even if you both know it was a mistake. “i have to go back to taeyang.” 

his eyebrows furrow, the ugly feeling weighing on his chest once again at the mention of his now-past friend. he pushes himself up on his elbows, watching you pull on your top and attempt to smooth down your hair on your way to the door.

“but–”

“bye, keeho.” the room falls silent after the door slams shut, the sound ringing in his ears like tinnitus. he blinks, staring at nothing for a long while as he gathers his thoughts, before he lets himself fall back onto the bed and throws an arm over his eyes with a whispered curse.

you’re gone. again.

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You’re not sure why Jiung has gotten so shy about being shirtless lately. Even during the heatwave when the other members have abandoned their layers (not enough to be totally indecent) so they can continue dance practice without dying, Jiung let himself sweat through his black shirt. Even when you’d gone to the pool with a few of the others, he refused to go shirtless claiming he’d get too cold. 

You called bullshit. He’s always flaunting his tattoos in your face, knowing how much they have an effect on you. 

But it all clicks when he steps out of the shower of your hotel room, all but a towel around his waist as he ruffles dry his hair with another. And you see them. 

Two metal bars glinting under the dim light. On his nipples. 

You drop your shampoo. 

“Fuck, Jiung.”

You’re not even embarrassed by how breathless you sound. 

Jiung has the nerve to stand there and stare at you, wide eyed like he’s the baffled one. “What?”

Your legs are carrying you across the floor and suddenly, you’re standing right across Jiung and his newly pierced nipples. 

“Are those new?” You ask dumbly, knowing damn well you are. 

He blinks, cheeks tinging a light pink. “Y-Yeah they are. Why?”

Why. You swallow down everything you want to say. Your hand twitches at your side. 

“They… look good,” is what you settle on, your voice nothing but a mumble. 

When you glance up at him, you’re taken aback to find him just staring at you, eyes glossed over. 

You meet his eye, your hand raising slowly. 

“Are they sensitive?”

Your voice lands as a whisper in the air that’s suddenly charged between you. 

When he doesn’t flinch away, step back, you let your fingers brush against the warm, damp skin at the bottom of his ribs. 

“Yes,” he breathes, Adam’s apple working around a rough swallow. “A-A little.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, gaze dropping back to the dark peaks, pebbled under the cold air. The silver glints at you, beckoning. 

Your fingers graze up the expanse of his inked chest, light and fleeting before they settle again. You relish in the shuddered breath that wracks through his chest, subtle but entirely telling. 

You press your thumb under the dark skin, lips twitching at the soft hiss he lets out. 

“Just a little?” You ask, the wolfish grin on your lips doing nothing to ease the red climbing up his body. 

“It’s—well, if you do that—ah!” He cuts off with a soft whimper, hands catching onto your hips as his head drops, body shuddering through the sudden sensations. 

You circle your thumb over the rough skin, slow and gently around the bar. Each pass makes his body twitch, little helpless noises stumble from his lips. 

It makes you want.

You lean in slowly, catching his dazed eye. “May I?”

He gives you a nod, a minuscule twitch of his head. 

The metal feels cold on your tongue. His skin is anything but. 

He whines, clear and unabashed as he slumps against the wall behind him. 

You lave your tongue on it, around it, pulling it between your lips. And Jiung falls apart from it, eyes squeezed shut, cheeks ruddy, skin sweaty. 

Some part of you wonders if the shower in his hotel room had really stopped working. 

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1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

“Baby,” Beomgyu's murmuring, petting your hair as you groan. “Tsch, c'mon, it's almost six,” he says.

Six P.M, 18:00... you'd never had great sleeping habits in the first place, and having a boyfriend who barely needs any rest and gets crazy fatigue from ten minutes in the sun doesn't help, so this is pretty much the norm these days; you stay up all night with him, ignore him when he tells you you still need to sleep, and end up crashing til sunset.

“’s it dark out?” You stretch your body and shift your body toward him, keeping your eyes clamped shut against the lamp he must have just turned on.

“No,” Beomgyu says as he watches you press your palms over sleepy eyes before finally looking back at him. “There you are.” He smiles.

He looks... tired — but not like the rare times when he needs to sleep; his eyes look darker in colour than normal, focused on your face without the usual roaming this way and that. His smooth skin is pale in stark contrast to the navy hoodie he has on. Your own hazy mind needs another moment to calibrate before you can figure it out, but when you do, your face scrunches up lightly in concern. “Hungry.” You state. He nods.

You hold his eye contact. “Urgent?”

Beomgyu shakes his head. “It's not urgent.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “But I was kinda hoping...”

He doesn't even need to say it — you're shoving the wool blanket off your body, turning onto your back to wait, making him laugh at your eager reaction.

You tug at the loose neckline of the tee you wore for your ‘nap’ and make sure nothing's obscuring your neck area before looking back to Beomgyu, who hasn't made any move to come closer yet. You bite your cheek at his amused stare. “Come on,” you mumble. Beomgyu nods and before you can blink he's over you, knees on either side of your thighs and his face not far above yours. He's quiet, focused and purposeful as he moves, brushes his nose over yours, and swiftly comes downward to kiss the center of your throat.

Your heart's already going pretty fast, and you know he heard it before you even realized it. “Calm down,” he says.

“I'm all good,” you breathe, shutting your eyes to take a steady breath and prepare, feeling his lips glide over the exposed skin at the top of your chest and his fingers run over your wrist. His lips lift from your skin, and... nothing?

You scrunch up your face a bit, and Beomgyu chuckles softly, prompting you to open your eyes again to see him leaning up, watching you.

“You're too excited,” he says teasingly. “Becoming an endorphin addict?”

“No.” You immediately deny. “Maybe I just like you.”

“Your heart doesn't even do all this when we have sex,” he points out.

“Sex is way less crazy than—”

“Stop arguing,” he grins, white fangs drawing your eyes to snap to the sight. “You know I want you calm when we do this. Remember the first time?”

“...yeah.” You feel your cheeks heat up at the memory. “That wasn't my fault. My body overreacted.”

“Right.” Beomgyu holds your wrist and kisses your knuckles. “Just focus, ’kay?”

“Yeah.”

You let your eyelids fall shut once more and fill your lungs slowly, counting seconds mentally between each breath. Beomgyu's lips travel across your inner wrist. 1, 2, 3, exhale, 1, 2, 3...

It's only a split second between his teeth piercing your skin and the beginning of that familiar distinct feeling flowing through your arm, and you let out a soft sigh when you feel it, almost a moan. Temporary puncture wounds are numbed before your human body has the chance to notice them, and the faint effects of his saliva interacting with your body have you pretty much slack in his grasp.

It's slower than if he went with your neck, somewhere closer to your heart, but it's enough for you. It spreads as he takes from your wrist, a natural toxin to keep his prey — or, you — where he needs it. And, damn, it's already good. You've had it a dozen or so times by now since he started taking little drinks from you, and you couldn't imagine any drug comparing to this — this otherworldly sensation. Beomgyu's already removing himself from your veins when it hits you properly, running his tongue over the holes to help them heal up. You can feel his eyes on you without looking.

He's soon off of you, back to lounging by your side, his soft voice right your ear, “Thank you, lovely,” he hums. His hand finds your waist and pulls you onto your side to face him, and you tuck your face into his chest to breathe him in while you rest in your afterglow. It feels like you could fall right back asleep like this.

“We'll get you some dinner— breakfast, in a minute,” Beomgyu says as he caresses your arm. “Stay with me.”

You laugh quietly at this. “Mhm.” You push your body tight against. “Y’could take more,” you say, words meshing together. Beomgyu snorts and rolls away from you. ”Absolutely not.”

You reach for his retreating form and pull your eyes open, met with his now standing form suddenly already across the room in the doorway.

“I don't think you can handle more physical... stimulation right now.” A smirk tugs at his lips. You roll your eyes weakly and blink a long blink before pushing yourself up on your hands to crawl to the edge of the bed. You swing your legs over the side but you don't stand up, you only look up at Beomgyu, with pleading, hooded eyes. He's in front of you in a heartbeat. He tsks and takes you in his arms. “Lazy.”

"Get off!"

"I can't! Something fell behind me!"

Following Taehyun to the storage closet to help him get archives from the past five years of marketing strategies was fine. Easy enough. Beomgyu trailing behind, insisting to help by holding open the door that was known to need fixing due to it's faulty doorknob was also fine. Beomgyu jumping in to stop a box from falling on your head, letting the door shut behind him and cramping all of you in the tiny space, was not.

You're a jumble of tangled limbs in the blink of an eye— you've fallen back against Taehyun, pinning him against the shelf while Beomgyu tries to keep himself from falling on top of you; you hear a thump, and you're all groaning as the space between you three closes.

"Ngh— c'mon, I can't breathe here!" it's a lie, but you try your best to squirm around anyway, pushing Beomgyu's chest and arching back away from him— but right into Taehyun, pressing him against the shelf as he grabs your waist and curses in your ear that you're squishing him. "Beomgyu, stop leaning on me!"

"Stop fucking moving," Taehyun snaps. The two of you instantly quiet down. "You're both crushing me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper out, and the two scoff. Taehyun's head rests on your shoulder, and Beomgyu is still looming over you. The three of you fall silent as you try to think of what to do.

Okay, it could be worse; you start there. Taehyun and Beomgyu aren't terrible people to get stuck in a closet with, you suppose. They're nice enough to work with, polite and fun to talk to— you'd even go as far as saying you're work friends, and if you're going to be stuck here for a while (which is likely, considering the office is empty now), then it won't be terribly awkward. At least, as not-awkward as it can be when you're sandwiched between them.

"Either of you know any tricks to unlock the door?" You try.

"Nope."

"None."

"Okay…" you gulp. Beomgyu's body is smothering your face, and all you can smell is his— perfume? It's floral and clean, suiting for such a beautiful man. "Anyone we can call to get us out?"

"Not that I know of," Taehyun says. Fuck, the smell of his shampoo is invading your senses— you feel like you're going crazy with how good these two men smell. "We were the only ones left in the office. Maintenance doesn't come on Fridays, and the cleaning crew left thirty minutes ago."

"Wow, that's great," you groan, dropping your head back against Taehyun's shoulder, only to straighten after realizing the intimacy of it. "What about people in the department?"

"You really think someone's gonna answer a company call? At 8PM on a Friday?" Beomgyu says.

You scoff. "It wouldn't hurt to try!"

"Okay, then call someone you think would answer."

You shift around to grab your phone, and the two men are complaining that you don't need to wiggle around so much— a minute passes as you scroll through your contacts, debating on who would be most likely to answer. When you finally decide, you let the call ring out on speaker.

It rings.

And rings. And rings.

Then cuts off abruptly.

"What the fuck?" your mouth is wide open as you try again, only for you to be hung up on again. The two looming over you chuckle.

"Guess she's still not over the text messages." Beomgyu teases.

"It wasn't even fucking about her!"

"It was about the guy she was crushing on though." Taehyun chimes in.

"Whatever," you grumble, "it's not my fault she can't handle the fact that her crush is a weirdo."

The two don't bother refuting that— because who the fuck is delivering suggestive anime figures to the office? Accident or not, that figurine made your stomach churn just looking at it.

"Okay then, I'm all out of options," you sigh— because the only other people you're confident would come to your aid are trapped in the closet with you. "What about you two?"

"Nah."

"I don't make friends with my coworkers."

"Ouch," you say, though you know better than to take Taehyun seriously. After all, it couldn't be true with the way he's gotten himself comfortable with you now. Not to mention that him and Beomgyu are inseparable, despite their constant quarrels.

A long silence ensues. You can't hide nerves in your voice as you speak. "Are we seriously stuck in here then?"

"…I doubt it," Taehyun says, "maybe there's still someone hanging around the office."

The silence that follows after is much worse— Taehyun's attempt of reassuring you was appreciated, but it didn't help much, as you feel yourself becoming restless at the thought of being stuck in this closet all night— or weekend. Does the cleaning crew come on weekends? You don't remember. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency number; it'd be humiliating to have the office find out about your predicament, but anything beats being stuck in this dusty closet.

You're shifting this way and that, your limbs getting cramped up after trying to remain still to not worsen your position. But your overthinking mind has made you lose rationality, as you're wiggling around to try and get away from the two men to no avail. They scold you to stop, their bodies taut and their commands so firm you can't help but instantly listen. You haven't moved an inch, and all you've done is mess up everyone's balance, your bodies pressed firmly together.

Your foot is angled terribly, and if you remain standing like this, you'll lose balance and make things worse. Once more, you shift, and they both tense. Then you feel it.

Against the swell of your ass. Against your thigh. Hot and thick and throbbing against your bunched up skirt, against your stockings, the deep rise and fall of their chests suddenly making more sense.

"Something wrong?" Taehyun is the first to notice you've gone stiff. "Are you claustrophobic? You're breathing pretty heavily."

"I mean, I'm kinda stuck between you two now, wouldn't it make sense to freak out?" you say. "Not a lot of space here."

"Sorry, are we making you uncomfortable?" Taehyun says, "I can assure you no one wants to be here like this. If I could, I'd step away."

"No, that's not it."

You finally meet Beomgyu's eyes. You don't like how he's looking at you, his face dimly lit by the fluorescent office lights that leak through the cracks of the door. Like he knows better than you.

"You feel it, don't you?" he looks down at where your thigh continues to press against his crotch. He lets out a shaky breath. "Both of us."

"Both—?" Taehyun's head snaps up, glaring at Beomgyu. "The hell are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid, Taehyunie," Beomgyu coos, "your face gives you away."

He takes a hold of your chin, tilting it up. "Yours too."

You try to glare at him. "I'm not sure I follow."

"God, can we stop playing innocent here?" Beomgyu throws his head back in frustration. "No one's coming to get us anytime soon, and we're all stuck pressed up on each other. You feel what it's doing to us. You like it."

"Choi Beomgyu," you gasp out, "This is highly unprofession— oh,"

He's grinding on your thigh, his eyes never leaving yours. His thick brows furrow, and his mouth parts to let out a soft sigh. He feels so warm against you, shifting slightly so he can grind right against your inner thigh; your cheeks are warming up at the way you whimper softly.

Taehyun hisses. "Shit."

"See?" Beomgyu huffs, punctuating it with a thrust aimed at the apex of your thigh; you gasp, jolting against Taehyun who only holds you tighter. "Told'ya she likes it."

"I— I don't," you whine, hands grabbing onto Beomgyu's button up, scrunching it in your hands. Your eyes fall to where his hips grind, a tight tent against his pants, and you squint your eyes to find a small dark spot building. "This is wrong, we're going to get in trouble."

"Then we need to make sure no one finds out," Beomgyu hunches forward, his breath on your lips as he pants and groans, letting out a soft fuck. Your eyes are fluttering shut, mouth parting as you find yourself leaning in. He looks up at Taehyun just as you do. "Right Taehyunie?"

You can only feel Taehyun getting harder behind you; his fingers are dug so deeply in your skin that all he's doing now is holding you still for Beomgyu, who in turn keeps thrusting you against him. Taehyun's breath against your neck has you shivering, head leaning back against him as you feel your legs shake from the awkward position.

"Hurry up then," Taehyun grits out, "If I end up cumming in my pants, I'll kill you."

"You heard him right sweetie?" Beomgyu laughs, "Spread your legs a little more, yeah?"

"Beomgyu no," you say, "are you crazy? We're working, we're in the office—"

"After hours, with no one around to interrupt us." He's bunching up your skirt even more, giggling at the way you slap his hands, "All I'm hearing is that you're scared we'll get caught. And we won't. So what's the problem here?"

You try to crane your head back, meeting Taehyun's gaze in hopes that he'll be rational and tell Beomgyu to keep it in his pants— he raises his brow at you instead. When you look back at Beomgyu with wide eyes, he grins.

"Yeah, that's what I figured."

His hands rub up your legs, smoothing over your inner thighs appreciatively. His hand cups your cunt, just to feel how hot you are against his palm, and he curses when he feels the dampness seeping through the fabric. Without warning, he rips a hole in your tights, and you jump back against Taehyun.

"Beomgyu!"

"You sound so cute like that," He grins, reaching up to squish your cheeks in his hand; his nails dig in just a little too much, and you wince— he seems to like your reaction. "Makes me wanna be rougher with you."

"Stop talking like that, you're freaking her out," Taehyun rolls his eyes, "You want her to change her mind because you're acting like a weirdo?"

You bristle. "I never made up my mind in the first place—"

When Beomgyu pulls your face to kiss him, you let out a startled yelp. His hand goes from holding your face to the back of your nape, pulling you into his mouth until you feel like you can't possibly get closer. His lips are plump and his kiss is vicious, parting your mouth so he can shove his tongue in and get a proper taste of you. You whine, putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, and kiss him back. When he feels you leaning forward in search for more, he bites your lip and pulls away with a laugh.

"You don't need to play hard to get anymore. Y'know that, right?" He smooths out your hair, the gesture unexpectedly gentle. "Though it's hot when you pretend to fight back."

"God, if you don't hurry up then I'll just take my turn first." Taehyun's words have you flushing with heat, the unexpected filth making you buzz with excitement. The two argue about who should have you first, and you're trapped between them while you try to pretend that this isn't just something you've dreamt about and shamed yourself over time and time again.

"Sorry, sorry," Beomgyu shrugs, pushing your panties aside with rough fingers. He swipes his fingers through your folds, whistling when he feels how wet you are. He stares you down while he continues to circle your entrance. "You heard our darling, right? I'll take my time with you next time, I swear."

Next time? You don't get to think too much on what he's implying, because next thing you know, his tip is at your entrance, and he's pushing in.

Oh god.

"Oh god," you struggle to breathe out, nails digging into Beomgyu's shoulders; your other hand flies down to where Taehyun continues to hold your waist, and his fingers part just enough so you can intertwine your hand with his. "Can you— fuck— slow down? Please?"

"Slow down? Seriously?" Beomgyu's brows are scrunched together, his finger circling lightly on your clit— teasing, slow circles that make you clench around him and make his breath stutter. "How am I supposed to slow down when you feel like this?"

Despite his petulance, he proceeds to go a little slower, pushing in until his pelvis is flush against yours, grinding his hips deep inside you as he swoops down to bring you into another kiss. His free hand reaches for your thigh again, hoisting it up on his hip to get better access. He fucks you slow and deep, panting into your mouth when you squeeze him, smiling coyly when you whine against his lips.

"She sounds so nice, doesn't she Taehyunie?"

"Yeah," Taehyun sounds breathless, "even better when you shut the fuck up."

"Don't be mean," Beomgyu pouts, his grip on your thigh tightening as he begins to fuck you harder, bringing out little squeaks from you with every thrust, "she likes it when I talk to her like this. Don't you, baby?"

"No," you say, "it's a—annoying."

"Is it?" His finger on your clit is firmer, matching his thrusts that have become cruel; the small closet is filled with the sounds of him slamming into your cunt and your stifled moans— though you try to pay attention to the way Taehyun occasionally groans and hisses behind you as well. Beomgyu spanks your thigh, and your attention is snapping back to him; he wears a cocky smile that makes you frown, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he rolls his hips to aim for your sweet spot. When he finds it, you let out a long whine, your body slumping back in defeat. "Then how come you were so wet before I even touched you?"

You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet down in spite of him— it doesn't work of course, because he's found just the right spots to get you to jolt with pleasure, your facade falling apart the second Taehyun's hand makes quick work to unbutton your shirt, fingers slipping beneath your bra to tug and twist at your nipples; when you feel his lips trailing kisses down your neck, you let out a weak whimper.

"Don't get quiet on us baby," Taehyun murmurs against your skin, "just ignore him."

"Ignore him?" the stimulation is getting to be too much, and you feel yourself getting wound up in no time. Your brain is a muddled mess of senses, hyper aware of even their breath on your skin. Beomgyu huffs, digging his nails into your thigh. "When I'm the one making you feel this good?"

"Don't you try to ignore me when I'm the one that's gonna make you cum," Beomgyu lets go of your thigh to squish your cheeks and bring your face close to his.

"Look at me," he breathes out, "you gonna cum, sweet thing? I can feel you squeezing me."

He doesn't let go of your face, and you're forced to talk through a pout. "Uh-huh— please, wanna cum— please?"

Beomgyu looks at Taehyun, chuckling smugly before he smiles at you.

"So polite," he coos, "but you think you deserve it? After talking to me like that? Sayin' I'm annoying?"

You try to protest, but you can barely make a sentence through your moans, "Y-you're right— ah, m'sorry— please, please let me cum…"

Beomgyu is soaking this in, you can tell— he doesn't say anything for a moment, observing you carefully instead; the way your eyes plea silently to him, your bitten lips that are left open and panting, and the way his cock disappears inside you— the squelching noise that comes from his sudden thrusts, your warm body that trembles under him— and he lets out a condescending laugh, switching up his pace so he's pulling all the way out, just to bottom out in you as slow as possible.

"That's not enough for me baby," He bites his lip, concentrating on not cumming as well, "you gotta beg for it."

Taehyun chuckles behind you, and you whine. "Please… please don't make me— do that."

Beomgyu merely grins. "Looks like you don't want it enough then."

Taehyun pinches your nipple, and you yelp when it's followed by his teeth sinking into your shoulder— enough to give you a quick sting, but not enough to injure you.

"C'mon pretty, be good and ask him to let you cum, yeah?" His hand slides back down to your hip, just so he can press his hard-on against your ass, "I don't think I can wait any longer for my turn."

"Ah, no…" you can feel your face heat up, meeting Beomgyu's cocky gaze, "it's embarrassing."

"Poor girl," he coos, though it's followed by a condescending laugh, "looks like we'll be here all night then."

"Which, honestly…" he slows down, grinning as he watches your cunt stretch around his cock, a thick white ring forming at the base, "I don't really mind."

Taehyun scoffs— his hand on your breast slides up to grab your throat, his fingers wrapping around you effortlessly. He's tilting your head back toward him, bringing his lips close to your ear as he tightens his hold on you.

"C'mon baby, need you to stop being difficult," he murmurs, his voice tense from waiting, "You gonna be good and listen to me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good," he places a soft kiss to your temple. "Repeat after me, okay?"

Beomgyu is entertained by the spectacle in front of him, it shows all over his face; his eyes are dark as he watches Taehyun whisper in your ear, your glistening eyes fluttering open to meet his— you're dazed with pleasure, barely holding off from cumming as you whine out to him, not thinking much of what you're saying.

"Beomgyu— 'm sorry for being mean," you're trying your best to keep your eyes on him— it's cute how embarrassed you are, and Beomgyu grins as you hesitate to continue.

"I'll be a good girl now," His smile tenses at that— he's picking up the pace now, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasure, "Please, can— can I cum, sir?"

"Oh, fuck," Beomgyu shivers at your weak plea— he leans back down to crash his lips against yours, his pace brutal as he begins to slam into you carelessly. It's hard to keep up with his hungry kiss, becoming a mess of spit and teeth as he moans shamelessly against your lips; he pulls back just enough to pant and whine, "yes, of course you can, sweet angel— c'mon, let me feel it."

Your whole body tenses when you finally let go, a long whine of Beomgyu's name leaving you as your high crashes, waves of pleasure overtaking you as you clench around Beomgyu's cock, listening to him moan and praise you breathlessly. The two don't take their eyes off you for a second, watching your body shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Beomgyu slows to a stop after your body slumps against Taehyun's, rely on the two men to hold you up.

"So perfect," Beomgyu gives you a soft kiss, "God, you put on quite a show."

"Shut up," you say, though it's only met with a soft spank to your thigh— you yelp at the sensation, and Beomgyu smooths his palm against the spot.

Beomgyu has yet to pull out yet— just when you're about to tease him about it, you realize why that is as you feel him throb inside you.

"Beomgyu," you breathe out, "you haven't cum yet."

He looks more than ready to shrug off your comment and give you some lame excuse that it's fine— before he can open his mouth, you're wrapping your leg around his hip and pressing him in; a choked moan leaves him at the sensation of you clenching around him.

"Can…" you hesitate, but push through regardless. "Can you cum inside?"

It's silent. You wonder if you've gone too far, ready to take it back when the two men make eye contact and begin to laugh in disbelief.

"Jesus, baby. You really know how to kill a man," Beomgyu's voice is strained, his hips beginning to move again— but his rhythm is sloppy, and he can barely hold back his moans as he fucks you, "You sure about this?"

"Yes," you whine, shivering at the overstimulation, "Please, I want you to fill me up, sir."

You're too smart for your own good— as soon as the title leaves your lips, Beomgyu's head is falling back and his hips are pressing impossibly deep inside you, pulling your hips against his as he grinds into you and cums. He continues to fuck you through his orgasm, hissing out curses and whining your name like it's the sweetest thing on his tongue— when his high has washed away, he leans back into you to catch your lips in a last, chaste kiss.

"Fuck, you're dangerous," he murmurs, "why haven't we done this sooner?"

"Well, I don't think we've gotten locked in the archive closet before."

You're pulling away from Beomgyu's lips to laugh at Taehyun's comment, the former rolling his eyes and calling Taehyun a smart-ass. You're barely given a moment before Beomgyu is pulling out, grinning at the way you whimper at the loss of him inside you.

"Here," he says, bringing his fingers to your cunt to catch his dripping cum, only to stuff his digits inside you, "don't want this going to waste, right?"

"Beomgyu, fuck—" you twitch as his fingers curl inside, massaging your sweet spot, "too much— 'm sensitive."

"Do you need a break?" Taehyun chimes in, "We can stop here if you want."

"No," you're quick to say, and the two men laugh at your eagerness— you try to ignore the way your face is heating up as you reach up for Taehyun's hand on your throat, lacing your fingers with his as you look over your shoulder at him. "I wanna feel you too."

"Is that right?" he says, breathless at the way you flutter your eyes at him and nod; his free hand snakes around your waist to push you back against him, caressing your skin idly, "well, how could I say no to such a pretty thing?"

Taehyun is adjusting your position so he can get better access to you— you end up leaning forward against Beomgyu, pinning him against the shelf behind him as Taehyun bunches your skirt up your hips a little more; his hand caress from your thighs to your ass, and you feel his gaze sweeping over your arched figure appreciatively. His hands land on your hips, moving your panties to the side again and circling his fingers around your entrance; you squirm in anticipation, and he chuckles.

"Don't tell me you're getting impatient?" he coos, his fingers dipping in teasingly before going up to circle your clit, "such a greedy girl."

He's only gliding his tip across your slit now, slapping the head of his cock against your clit to watch your squirm— but even so, you can feel how big he is, can feel the thickness of his length as he thrusts between your thighs, continuing to hiss quietly in your ear each time his tip catches against his entrance.

"Taehyun, stop teasing…" you whimper, leaning your head against Beomgyu's chest; his hand comes up to caress your head affectionately.

"M'kay baby, I'm sorry," Taehyun is surprisingly quick to give in to your commands, lining himself up before beginning to push into your cunt— though he's not as long as Beomgyu, he's definitely thicker, with a curve that aims straight for your sweet spot; your body tenses instant, mewling pathetically the moment Taehyun nestles perfectly into your cunt, drawing out a curse from him as you flutter around his length.

"Feels good?" he asks, running a hand down your spine, pushing against the small of your back to make you arch for him a little more, "You feel so perfect baby."

Slowly, he begins to move, listening for the way your breath hitches and your moans break when he slams back in and grinds against you. He lets you savor the stretch, rolling his hips into you and hitting spots that make you see stars. Slowly, he begins to speed up, until his hips are smacking against your ass and you're getting jolted against Beomgyu. It feels amazing— though as you peek over your shoulder, you find Taehyun focusing on the way your cunt takes his cock, his brows furrowed in frustration and his body tense.

"M…more…" you can't help but murmur, the pace he set too safe for your liking— the moment the request registers in his brain, Taehyun is reaching out for your hair, using it as leverage to pull you back against him, your back arching as he continues to fuck you.

"More?" he asks, his thrusts becoming rougher, "how do you want it, baby?"

"I—" the words die on your tongue the second his hand falls to your throat again, squeezing just enough to have your brain cloud up, "I don't want you to hold back."

"Are you sure?" his voice is strained, and you feel the tension melt away from him the moment you nod, "god, you're such a perfect little angel."

You feel the shift instantly; his hands are greedy as his fingertips sink into your skin, restricting your oxygen and grabbing your hips to fuck back against him. He shifts into something more possessive, eager to claim you as he fucks you rough and deep— his mouth doesn't leave your neck once, sucking and sinking his teeth into your skin, murmuring praises all the while. Your eyes are hazy as they flutter open, widening at the sight that you're met with.

"God, you two look so— so good," Beomgyu moves like a man possessed, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock that's gotten hard again. His eyes are cloudy as they run a path through your face, to where Taehyun hides in the crook of your neck, down your body and to where the two of you connect; when he catches the way his cum is getting fucked out of your cunt and mixing in with both your arousal, his cock twitches in his hand and he groans. "So pretty…"

"Fuck, you're hard again?" Taehyun rests his chin on your shoulder, breathing out a laugh before squeezing your throat, "baby, wanna help him out?"

It feels like your body is moving on its own accord; your hand is wrapping around Beomgyu's cock, your thumb swiping over his tip to collect the pre-cum that leaks out and using it to make the glide along his length smoother— his breath hitches, dizzy at the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, the size difference enough to get him close.

"Oh, you're so good— just like that, fuck, baby," he whimpers, watching your face closely, "you're so pretty, look so good taking his cock— are you gonna cum?"

You're surprised he was able to pick up on it just from watching you— he's moaning as soon as you nod, as though recalling the feeling of your cunt gushing around him. His voice is rough as he purrs out praise to you, telling you how beautiful you look and urging you to cum with him— when you squeeze him particularly hard and swipe your palm over his tip, he lets out a broken whine of your name; Taehyun's hands tighten on you, pulling you back with a low growl.

"So fucking noisy," He snarls, glaring at Beomgyu, "moaning like a whore."

"Can't help it," Beomgyu isn't the least bit apologetic, a coy smile tugging at his lips, "you'd get it if you saw what I see."

You feel your peak building up suddenly, your moans picking up and alerting the two— while Taehyun seeks out your broken pleas for him to fuck you harder, Beomgyu continues to ramble on, though it becomes nonsensical as his own climax approaches. Behind you, Taehyun huffs, his hand leaving your throat and shooting out in front of you.

"Shut the fuck up," his voice is stern, and you're both leaning forward so Taehyun can shove his middle and ring finger into Beomgyu's mouth— to your surprise, Beomgyu moans. "I don't wanna hear another word from you."

Drool begins to pool at the corners of Beomgyu's mouth, and he stares down at where you're sandwiched between them with low-lidded, foggy eyes— Taehyun's fingers push down against Beomgyu's tongue, and before he can so much as moan, he's cumming in your hand.

It's warm and sticky as it falls against your hand, arm, and shirt— you gasp, continuing to pump his cock as your own climax hits, squeezing down on Taehyun so tightly you're triggering his own orgasm shortly after, his teeth sinking into your shoulder once more to muffle the loud moan that escapes him, thick cum flooding into your cunt as his hips rut into you, riding out your orgasm and ensuring that none of his cum goes to waste. When he finally comes up from your neck, it's to whisper praises in your ear, his free hand coming up to tilt your head back to him so he can kiss you.

It's gentler than you anticipated, but he's just as needy to taste you— he pants against your mouth and bites your lips teasingly, snaking his tongue inside and devouring your whole. You don't know how long you spend like this, with his cock bottomed out inside you and his lips glued to yours; you're only able to snap out of your daze when you hear Beomgyu let out a shaky sigh.

The two of you snap your heads back to Beomgyu, who you realize with a giggle still has Taehyun's fingers in his mouth.

"You didn't need to do that y'know," Beomgyu mutters after Taehyun has pulled his hand away, but there's no heat behind his words. Considering the clear affect it had on him, you'd call Beomgyu a hypocrite— but you'll keep it to yourself for the sake of keeping peace.

"Whatever," Taehyun says. He presses a kiss on your neck, pulling out slowly, the two of you hissing when you feel his cum begin to leak out, "you okay?"

"Yeah," your voice unexpectedly hoarse, "just… sticky."

Beomgyu smiles sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that."

"We need to get out of here," Taehyun adjusts your clothes, moving onto his with a sigh, "but who the hell could we call? Not even maintenance is here right now."

You and Taehyun fall silent, lost in thought and weighing your options— you think of the coworkers you're closer to, but you either don't have their number or know they wouldn't answer, either because they're mad at you or don't want to ruin their Friday night. It seems Taehyun is coming to the same conclusion as you, because he lets out a long, frustrated sigh. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency line… though you really don't know what they'd think if they found you in your current state…

Beomgyu, who had been scrolling on his phone casually, brings it up to his ear. You and Taehyun watch in anticipation.

"Hey Yena, you busy?" you can faintly hear the sweet voice of Yena, the secretary that always strays from the front desk to personally deliver Beomgyu's lunch orders and lingers around to make meaningless conversation with him. "That's great— listen, me and two others got stuck in the archives closet."

"…I did, but then this shelf got tipped over and a box almost fell on— anyway. I know it's a huge favor to ask, but would you be able to come in and let us out of here?"

There's a pause. Beomgyu sees the way you tense, and he places his hand on your waist reassuringly.

"I'll buy you dinner."

Another pause ensues. Then, a coy smile is spreading on Beomgyu's face, and he's cooing a soft thank you into the phone.

"She'll be here in fifteen."

You and Taehyun sigh dramatically, and you're leaning back against him as you finally relax. But Beomgyu's conversation lingers in your mind, and you can't stop yourself from frowning.

"You're going to dinner? After all this?"

Beomgyu perks up, radiating with a smug joy. "Awe, you jealous?" You scoff, crossing your arms and looking away. "c'mon, don't be like that sweetheart."

He cups your face, urging you to look at him. When your eyes meet his, he gives you a proud smile.

"I never said I was going with her."

Taehyun scoffs.

"Besides," Beomgyu's eyes run down your figure, darkening when they stop at your soiled shirt, "I think it's better we finish where we left off, don't you think?"

Taehyun's hands snake around your waist, hugging you close as he nestles his head on your chin. You can already picture the coy smile he must have on his face.

"That I can agree with."

"As nice as that sounds," you reach forward to grab a fistful of Beomgyu's hair, yanking it just to see Beomgyu's face twist with pain. "You've had Yena's number this whole time? And you knew she'd answer?"

"Well— I mean— I didn't think she'd actually—"

"Liar," you scowl, pulling a little more at Beomgyu's hair— he yelps, though you know it's all a facade. "You're such a perv."

Taehyun tuts, disappointed. "What d'you say we leave without him instead?"

"Sounds good to me."

Beomgyu pouts, looking like a kicked puppy. "Guys, no, don't do this to me."

"You really think you deserve to come with us after you had us stuck here for no reason?" Taehyun asks. Beomgyu can only give him a pathetic, pleading look.

"You want us that bad?" you ask, and he eagerly nods. A small smile tugs at your lips. "Then show us."

"Go on," Taehyun coos, "beg."

Despite the limited light that leaks through the cracks of the door, Beomgyu's eyes shine with need. His hands inch toward you, landing on top of Taehyun's as he closes the space between you three.

Yeah, you couldn't have asked for anyone better to get stuck in this dingy closet with.