you are my light

You stuck to your brother like glue, clinging to Jongho as he showed his family around the training rooms the first time. You had this bright smile on your face when Hongjoong introduced himself, like you were amazed by someone older than your older brother.

Hongjoong kept running into you after that. At the convenance store with your friends, out on a run with your club, cafe's in between classes. Over the years the groups you went with dwindled away until it was jus you two, meeting up for these odd mini errands.

Grocery shopping, coffee runs, hell he helped you build that cheap bookshelf in your living room.

He didn't notice how often he waited for you to text him the next time you would be out.

Until you missed one.

Then another.

And other.

And before he knew it, he hadn't seen you in nearly 2 months.

He didn’t notice at first, didn’t fully understand why he would jump at every notification only to feel an odd pang of disappointment.

Now he was working on his laptop working on a song when Jongho came up and sat next to him.

"New song?" he leaned over his seniors shoulder.

"Just something I got stuck in my head, thought I'd get it down before I forgot it," he muttered, adding another line of notes and looking to the notebook next to him with some lyrics scribbled down.

Jongho grabbed the book, scanning over the lyrics and eyebrows rising.

"Well jeez, and I thought this comeback would have less songs about this stuff," he laughed, looking between the lyrics and the melody on his laptop.

Hongjoong seemed to come back to the present, blinking and pushing his headphones off and taking in what he’d done so far.

Jongho was right, the song was going a bit... far. Still it was a little different. Less about straight sex and more about the experience.

It was more intimate, like it was about someone specific and not just about the action.

But still, it was pretty... explicit, even for them.

He sighed, finger tapping against his leg as he leaned back.

"Is this for us or for another group?" Jongho's question made him think for a second. "I can't imagine another group going this hard," he laughed. Hongjoong didn't really have an idea for where this one would go, more that it would end up in his voice memos and left to sit till someone wanted something similar.

"Well I-" he stopped at Jongho's phone vibrating next to him, your name flashing on the screen. Jongho casually picked up, not noticing how Hongjoong froze up next to him.

"Hey... oh yeah are they over?... Yeah come on over I'll leave the door open..." he hung up and got up to unlock the door, looking back to Hongjoong to finish. All he saw was Hongjoong looking at him expectantly. "What?"

"Y/n called?" he felt his chest twisting with anticipation, like he was some kid that just got told he was going to a toy store. Jongho let out a laugh as he sat back down.

"Her exams just finished, she was wanting to come over to hang out for a bit since she's been locking herself in her apartment the last couple months for prep," he dropped back onto the couch looked to the laptop. "So you were saying, the song is for who?"

You and the song being put in the same breath made him think.

Maybe he didn't want this song out in the world now that he thought about it. It felt almost personal? Like it was just a little to specific to something or someone to let others listen in on.

"It's not for anyone, just a fun project," he got out before another question panged in his mind.

Why was it personal? It was a "love" song but he wasn't in any sort of relationship and they had sung these types of songs plenty of times before.

Your face flashed in his mind.

Since every line was written with you in mind, maybe that's why.

That realization hit him like a truck, sending his thoughts spiraling as he ran through the song again.

How could he write something like this about you of all people?

About the girl that's been so happy and sweet with him that he felt off without her smiling at him at least once a day.

About the girl that brightened up his day with just a look his way.

About Jongho's little sister for gods sake.

And yet… god what was he even doing.

He doesn't know how long he sat there messing with the lyrics and his mic before he moved to his room, and he doesn't know how long he was in there before you popped in.

You smiled as you knocked quietly and opened the door. Any residual nerves from your finals left you, the sound of his voice chasing the feeling away.

You fell for Hongjoong the first day you saw him, the whole reason you followed your brother so closely that day being so you could see him again during the tour.

He was just so cool, he could do everything from writing to rapping to dancing. You put him on a pedistool that first moment and he hasn't moved in your mind since.

When those run ins started happening you were completely over the moon, your friends started telling you to go out by yourself purely out of observing your excitement at seeing him.

You don't know when it started that you would just text him where to meet you and he would be there but you did know it was the best thing to happen to you ever.

Of course something had to come along and ruin it all. These damn exams have been killing you these last two months and the first thing you could think of when they were over was to see him.

You felt a little guilty, using your brother as an excuse to peep on Hongjoong wasn't something you were incredibly proud of. But to be fair it wasn't just you, Jongho did just run out after forgetting a dinner he promised Yunho he would be at.

Now you slipped into the dark room, seeing Hongjoong back lit from his lap top as he hummed into his mic. You stepped up right behind him, looking at the screen as he sung the next verse.

You were used to hearing these types of lyrics for him, Jongho having to send a warning to your family when he knew one was coming so your poor mom didn't have a heart attack. But this... good lord it was something you would expect from a more western artist but not never from a kpop group. You listened to his voice quiet, his head shaking as he ran a hand over his face. He moved the mouse, clicking at the pause button before sighing like he was disappointed at something.

You followed his mouse as he clicked a few more times before starting the verse again, not recording this time. Some of the notes switched as he slowly moved to change tabs.

You took in a breath when he did, taking in what you were seeing too quickly for your brain to catch up.

It was a social media profile... your profile to be specific. He scrolled through your photos for a moment, his voice dropping to an octave you've never heard from him before. He shook his head, laughing to himself and going back to the recording screen.

The last minute played back in your mind as you tried to process it.

You took a step back.

And then maybe the most mortifying chain of event to ever happen to you started.

Your foot caught on the edge of his rug, sending you stumbling back before you hit his bed frame. The wood groaned loudly, Hongjoong's head snapping back at the sound as he pushed his headphones off. Both of you stared at each other in silence as the muffled track played out through the room.

That lasted for maybe two seconds before you started moving again.

"So-sorry I just uh-- I," you felt how flushed your face was getting as you tried to make it to the door, but that damn rug caught you again. You yelped, closing your eyes and throwing your arms out to catch yourself.

Hongjoong hopped up, trying to catch you. The headphone wire caught before he could even move away from his seat, him tripping over his chair before they disconnected.

You heard him yell and a hand wrap around the back of your head before you hit the ground.

It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of heavy breathing and that damn song floating around the room before you slowly opened your eyes.

Hongjoong's face was barely and inch from yours, eyes wide as he stared at you.

"I-" you stuttered again, trying to find something, anything to say.

"I like the song," you managed, an awkward laugh coming out as you did.

You wanted him to smile, to say thanks and laugh like this was all just a funny accident that you could both laugh at later. Maybe think you were just being a clutz and didn't see anything besides the song, didn't see the pictures he was looking at.

The panicked look in his eyes and lack of laughter told you that wouldn't happen though.

"When did you get here?" you took in a breath, you couldn't lie for shit and he knew it. His brows furrowed. "You saw didn't you?"

He started to get up, hand slipping slowly from the back of your head as his rant started.

"It's not what you think, I promise I wasn't being weird. I was just checking on something and your page was up. I swear it wasn't an--" he was half-way up when you felt something spike in your veins.

You had a feeling if you let him get up you wouldn't ever get this close again.

Hongjoong felt like his world was about to implode.

From how you looked when he turned around he knows you saw what he was looking at. If you were freaked out there was no argument he had on why it was totally normal and not weird that he was looking at your photos while singing an extremely explicit practically sex song alone in his room.

He could feel himself falling into a delirious rant as he fought to explain somehow that he wasn't being a weirdo.

And then your hands tangled in his shirt and you were yanking him back down.

His first thought was how soft your lips were on his.

He didn't even know he wanted this until a couple hours ago, but now this felt like all he's wanted for years. He blinked, feeling how your hands shook in their grip.

"Y/n wait," his words muffled against your lips but you didn't let up.

Maybe this was what he’s been wanting for years.

It sure would explain the way his chest twisted and head spun with anything you did or say to him.

He let himself relax, fingers tangling in your hair and pulling you closer. Your back arched, taking a sharp breath as his grip moved your side. You let out a whine and Hongjoong froze up.

He pushed up and off you, scrambling up as fast as he could.

"Joong?" you were breathless as you sat up. Hongjoong shook his head, kneeling to help you up before backing up again.

"I'm sorry, I got caught up. I didn't mean to--"

"Kim Hongjoong stop apologizing for something I started," you cut him off, stepping closer.

It was moments like this that he was reminded who you were related to, when you were direct and giving him that look like he was in trouble. You took a step forward, him stepping back until you had him backed against his own bed.

Your eyes shifted from that hard look to something a little more nervous.

“Is the song for me?” You bit at the inside of your cheek, heart rattling in your chest as you took another step closer.

He fell to sit on his mattress, letting you stop between his legs.

His eyes fell from your face to how your hands started to fidget with the hem of your shirt.

When he tried to look at you again he found you looking away to his computer, face bright red in the dim light.

Oh.

You were just as flustered as he was at this situation, just better than him at trying to get past it.

You felt his hands slip behind your thighs, pulling you closer till your knees hit the mattress right in front of him.

Your attention snapped back to him, eyes wide as his touch slowly grazed up he was right under the seam of your shorts.

"It didn't start out that way, I didn't even realize what I was writing honestly but, yeah... it is," he looked up at you nervously. You couldn't stop your own smile at his words. This whole thing -- as embarrassing as it started -- was like a dream come true.

You slid your hands over his shoulders, looking over his face. You didn't notice his fingers slipping under the denim of your shorts.

"I liked it," you whispered, "I don't think the company will let it be released though, its a bit," you cleared your throat, face getting even redder, "detailed."

A smile spread on his face and you finally felt where his hands were, sliding further and further up your shorts before hitting the thin fabric of your underwear.

"I wasn't planning of showing them," he tugged at you, trying to get you on him again without saying anything.

"Then who were you going to show it too? Obviously not me until now," you laughed, giving into his silent ask and climbing on top of him. Your legs straddled his hips, his hands leaving your shorts and going under the back of your shirt. You felt him slide to the hook of your bra, casually playing with it for a moment.

"Myself? Can't I express myself through song?"

"Oh is this how you express that kind of feeling?"

"There are other ways," you felt him unhook the clasp as he smiled playfully at you.

"There were a lot of different things to 'express' there," you leaned down, lips grazing his as you smiled. "You sure you can live up to it?"

You yelped as your back hit the mattress, feeling him press into you as he pressed an oddly gentle kiss to your cheek.

"Well I did write it."

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

You were woken up by a lot of different voices.

The main one being Hongjoong's, a gentle whisper against your hairline.

"Y/n wake up," you hummed, stretching and feeling his soft sheets against your bare skin. You smiled at him, blinking away the sleep in your eyes.

Thats when you took in the slight panic on his face.

"What's wrong?" you wrapped around him a bit, taking in his warmth in his cold room.

"Everyone's here," he whispered, voice stiff. You hummed in acknowledgement, silence stretching for a second before you shot up.

"You don't mean," your head snapped to the closed door, muffled laughs and conversation coming through.

He nodded, something like amused panic in his eyes.

Like the devil himself heard you, a knock came through the door.

"Hey Hongjoong, you up? Did you walk Y/n home last night? She's not picking up her phone," Jongho's voice filted through.

You looked at Hongjoong wide eyed.

Oh god you were fucked.

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

She’s officially done🥹

I have a lot more fics waiting in the wings I just didn’t want to post them till this guy was out sooo I will be back soon🤭

Thank you guys for the support of this series it was quite fun to figure out how to write the same trope 8 times over differently

See you soon

-Kay ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ current taglist: °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

“Poor thing, don’t tell me I look this pathetic when you’re teasing me?” You laugh, mocking, addictive, the sound sending a shiver down Zayne’s spine as his cock jumps in your hand. 

He’s flushed from the tips of his ears you nibbled on, down to his sweat-slicked chest, your nails digging bright pink lines on his abs as you double check his restraints, smiling at the way Zayne doesn’t even try to fight you when you tighten the knot just a little. 

You shift your hips, grinding down against him, and the moment your clothed core drags against his throbbing length, he lets out a sharp, breathy moan. God, he can feel just how wet you are getting from this too, and it's driving him insane.

Zayne lurches forward, “Kiss me.” Pulling until the rope stops him, lips just shy of your chin as he begs up at you. 

“I don’t know, baby, usually you don’t kiss me until I’m crying.”

You pretend to mull it over, staring down at him as Zayne groans in frustration, tugging and pulling and yet leaking precum pathetically on your thighs all the while. It’s almost merciful when you wrap your hand around him, a single stroke enough to rip a muffled moan out from the man beneath you, his hips bucking up until you pin him back down, sitting up on your knees to stop him from moving. 

“Kiss me,” another moan, breathy and more desperate than you’ve ever heard, “Please, please kiss me.”

You don’t stop your merciless rhythm, your other hand forcing his jaw up towards you as you lean in just enough to mock his beautiful pout, his breath hot on your lips.

“No.”

And shit, Zayne thinks he might like giving you control just as much as you do. 

dear diary, i still question why in the hell was i transferred from football to soccer? i loveeeed working with the linebackers.

they were such a bubbly group (besides their neediness) i was pulled aside like i did something wrong, the staff knew i needed these credits for grad school. but nobody explained the real reason why i was switched, and that’s what pissed me off the most.

at the time, i thought it was a punishment. remember thinking i did something wrong. offend someone? but here’s the thing…after my frontal lobe development and all, i should be grateful for it. right? i didn’t understand a damn thing back then but i truly get it now.

i became reckless, breaking rules like it was in my nature, grades falling fast. someone i couldn’t recognize. i lied, abandoned things, things i swore i’d never do. REARRANGED MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE.

the person i became after that transfer shaped my whole college experience and it still lingers with me from time to time. & i think that’s why im writing this all down, really trying to piece together how all this shit happened.

i was young and naive, but young me didn’t deserve that. but i let it happen anyway. over and over again. so time to lock in. im drunk asf ngl, my tears are about to ruin my notebook paper but who the fuck cares.

thank you to kq university athletic department for changing the trajectory of my entire life.

—

It was a Friday when you started your work study job. August, the start of football fall camp, the hottest time of year.

You were afraid, nervous, excited, all the feelings flooding, you could barely sleep the night before. The job orientation did nothing to calm you down.Your bosses’ motto was always “keep your head on a swivel.” You wanted to throw up on the conference room table right then and there.

There was no formal training, you were thrown to the wolves. You were put under an intern for guidance, she assigned you to the linebacker group, so you were always near her for any questioning. You were already on edge because the shirt given to you for the day was so ill-fitting, you were in front of over 130 people, and your boyfriend is celebrating his birthday today, hundreds of miles away from you.

The energy of football was so intense from the training room all the way outside to the field. You could smell the fresh paint on the grass, constant whistles from different directions, the excitement players felt getting ready for the season.

You watched as your group, the linebackers, warmed up. They were intimidating to say the least, you always had to be attentive to them.They drank water like camels, running across the field for bottle fill-ups was the majority of your practice.

Coming into freshman year, you chose biology as your major. A good entry for going into grad school for athletic training, this work study experience was important. Everyone knows this would look good on your resume after graduation, it would be dumb to jeopardize that in any way.

You keep up while internally crying inside. You learn jersey numbers, names, and you try to understand the full dynamic of your small group.They also try to learn you. You are the person who is their main point of contact if something goes wrong after all.

But there’s one linebacker that sticks out amongst the seven of them, one that makes being surrounded by men a little less overwhelming. He approaches you on the sideline, about two weeks into fall camp. You're not expecting attention, you've trained yourself to move through the space without taking up room, keeping your eyes on the water rack, on the next player who might need you. 

You position yourself at the edge of things, always ready to step back. Your whole purpose is to be efficient and invisible, and you've gotten good at it, shoulders slightly hunched, voice smaller when you speak, always the first to move out of the way when someone needs space.He smiles, it's big, genuine, you think. "Ready for the term to start?" He takes a bottle from your rack, squeezes some in his mouth, then on his cleats.

I hate when they do that. I literally have to go refill now.

"Uh, yeah, first year. Little nervous."

"Don't be, I've got you if you need anything." His dimples show, you take a peek at the back of his jersey, number ten.

You mentally run through your list. His last name is Choi. You can't remember which Choi, though. You nod as a thanks. It was odd because throughout the rest of practice, he would find every excuse to talk to you when players were supposed to be focused. Every practice, he became a regular presence, you eventually figured out which Choi he was, San.

You can tell he amped up his flirting, you were fresh meat to fall camp eyes. He started to compliment your clothes. Your work uniform was school shirts and shorts, with some beat-up sneakers. So impressive, really your best fit.

You look a mess most of the time due to working in the heat all day. Hair plastered to your face, pit stains, shirt sticking to you.Despite all of this, practice became something you were looking forward to in the mornings. Looking forward to seeing San.

Were my boyfriend's worries valid? I haven't brought him up once since I've been here. He's going through his own fall camp, nah, he's fine.

The fall term was going to officially start soon, which meant the first game was coming up. The energy became even more real as the date got closer.Your stress also skyrocketed, Mingi claimed his first game would be a week after your school's, so he was going to fly into town to watch you work since he had the free time.

Seeing him throughout the semester would be scarce, as he went to a different school and had a hectic student-athlete schedule.You were so scared for the week leading up to gameday. Mingi sat in the row closest to the sideline. He had a perfect view of you and the inner workings of you and the other staff.

You spotted him before he spotted you, and you knew he was coming, but it still made your stomach drop.Your shoulders tense the moment you see him in the stands. You force yourself to keep moving, keep working, but your body knows he's watching. You catch San's eye across the field and something in your chest tightens. He's watching you watch Mingi. 

You are behind your group for their pregame warm-ups, as you do a quick turnaround to wave up to Mingi, San approaches you for water.San immediately clocks it. He doesn't say anything in passing, just drinks, drops it back into your rack, and runs off to join the others.

I think forgetting I have a boyfriend is about to backfire on me.

The game finally commences, you stand for three hours, running up and down the sideline. Little glances up to Mingi now and again.Working your first game, you feel such a rush, you don't try to decipher any emotions from Mingi or San, if you don't pay attention, you will get plowed down.

San makes a really good play, and you realize you clap a little too hard. Immediately make yourself busy, know that’s how rumors start, and it’s only your first year.

KQ takes the win, everyone in the stands comes to the field to congratulate their loved ones, and more. This also included Mingi coming down to greet you. He grabs a hold of your waist to spin you around. He has bulked up since last seeing him, football body and all. Dyed his hair too, dark blue, not sure of the sudden change.

You smile up at him, move some of the hair out of his face. The dork you’ve been with since junior year of high school, your rock, your bestie.

I hate breaking your heart.

“Baby, you worked your ass off. Wasn’t even paying attention to the game.” You laugh, the one that makes his smile go even wider. “I’m glad you came to see me in action.”

“Me too, wish you were my trainer. Your group is lucky to have you.”

You tap his arm playfully, you know it’s a loaded sentence, you don’t know if that weight holds the same for him.“Before I catch my flight tomorrow, wanna grab some food? Sleep in a hotel bed instead of a dorm for the night?”

“Yea–yes. I’d like that.” You’re hesitant, the air has shifted, the smell of gatorade powder is filling your nose, but the man in front of you is taking up your line of sight.

That night was filled with giggles, memories, moans, and everything that you wouldn’t get to experience with him until the fall semester was over.

The fall semester was hard but rewarding, you’d love your job and the people you worked with. But your grades and your relationship were tanking in front of your eyes. He is out of state, and I’m here.

You’d been doing the long distance, but it only got harder as time progressed between you. When he calls, you don’t have much to say. You’d try to tell him about work, about school, your day, but it all felt so small compared to what he was dealing with. I didn’t realize it yet, but I was already checked out.

Finals were a bitch to go through. You were so ready for winter break, just needed a moment to decompress. But you were still confused about the status of your relationship. Winter break went by fast, you went through the motions of catching up on sleep. Mingi wasn’t able to come visit you until spring break.

You almost don’t recognize him. He exudes a completely different energy when he shows up at your single dorm with flowers and that smile that holds the world.

You're in pjs and slippers, awakened from your nap after taking a study break. You’re close to being on academic probation, and you’re trying to be better.

You don’t even get a word out before he starts apologizing. “I’m sorry. Just fucking sorry for putting you on the back burner. You’re a priority, football shouldn’t have changed that.” Everything feels empty. His words feel empty. I feel empty.

Fall semester was months of you growing without him. Something in you has shifted. You don’t know if it’s for the best or the worst. But when he leans down to kiss your unchapped lips, crust still in your eyes…you don’t feel a thing.

It feels like saying honey I’m home! When it’s only your name on the lease.

You kiss him back, because you’re trying. Really trying to understand the mess of feelings you found yourself in. You love Mingi, that was never the issue. He was easy to love, to fall into. You spend the whole break together. Favorite movies, home-cooked meals that give you food poisoning, his hands on every part of your body.

Making up for the months that you’ve both missed together, but the disconnect is still there. The elephant in the room that no one is acknowledging.

You’re having surface-level conversations, the yearning in his eyes is gone.Your eyes match his. You don’t know if he can tell because he still proceeds to talk about the future, but it’s his future.

You’re both still young-minded, ambitious, navigating life despite him being by your side and being your first for everything. When Mingi talks about his plans, where he wants to go, you realize you have no idea what your place is.

You ask questions, be attentive, trying to grasp at straws that are inevitably going to bend.What are we really building toward? You want to be excited about him, like you were in high school, you want the puppy love that used to gush out of you like a river.

But all you can think about is being back on the field with players, the energy, the people. Finding yourself outside of Mingi. The whole week, you’re running on fumes.

On his last night before flying back out, he pulls you close in your car. It’s quiet, no one else around.The only thing accompanying you is the birds, who don’t notice that the sun hasn’t risen yet. It’s starting to feel like nails on a chalkboard instead of a melody.

“I miss you,” Mingi whispers, as if you’re not right beside him. Like he’s telling a ghost. And shit, maybe I am one.

He leans in to kiss you, and you freeze. Your body doesn’t reciprocate, your hands don’t go to the nape of his neck, your eyes stay open, you don’t give him entrance. His lips feel wrong, not bad. Just wrong, and he knows it.

His cap hides some of his features, but you can see the realization and hurt etched all over his face. He pulls back, puts his hands back in his lap, faces the windshield instead of you.

“What’s wrong?”

You’re trying not to let the water works show as you explain—or try to explain. Hell, you don’t even know what to explain. It sounds like patheticness coming out of your mouth, you feel like a bitch. You fidget with your fingers, mess with the seatbelt, drink out of a 3-day-old water bottle you find in the door.

Everything but looking him in the eye. “I don’t—don’t know. I just. I can’t.”

He sighs, doesn’t push for further explanation, you see his neck and ears getting red, the outside lamp light shining on the side of him.

You can tell he’s getting emotional, he’s about to cry, and you hate it. You hate it. I fucking hate it.

You’re the reason he’s crying, you’re breaking him, but you’re breaking yourself while trying to stay. He leaves on that note, doesn’t say a thing else. When he leaves, you feel relief more than sadness.

Being back at school, with him away, everything turns upside down. You stop waiting for his calls, you stop checking if he’s texted. You make yourself busier than you already are. Chem labs are kicking your ass, your grades have become your main priority. Your work study is more lax during the spring, but you spend half your days there.

Everything else feels more urgent than keeping a relationship that feels like it’s destined to fail at this point. You need to graduate, need to be okay. I need to fix myself.

You don’t break up with him yet, it’s going to hurt, you know it is. So you decide to just stop trying. You spend the rest of the spring semester fixing everything except your relationship as summer break approaches.

 Then Summer comes, and Mingi doesn’t give up, he keeps trying. He continues to call constantly, leaving long messages on your voicemail, plans about wanting to see you, how much he misses you. You go through the motions because ending things feels harder than just existing in the space you’ve created.

You agree to hang out, agree to meet up. Maybe seeing him again will fix whatever broke inside me. But when he shows up at your house, you feel dread instead of excitement. You feel the urge to perform instead of just being yourself.

He talks about how his scholarship isn’t covering his tuition, talks about transferring schools again, maybe taking a break, and coming back home. You nod, sit there, pretend to care. I should care, but I don’t. Why don’t I CARE?

You both end up at dinner, conversation fizzles out. He’s trying hard to make it feel normal, asking about any summer classes, friends, plans for the fall semester.

Your answers are all short, check your phone at the table more than you should. He reaches for your hand across the table, and you let him take it.

You're holding a stranger’s hand. This is so so fucked up.

You drive back to his place and sit in the car for a minute, engine running, ac blasting. He’s looking at you like he’s waiting on something, a kiss, a sign you still want this. You can’t give him that anymore.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say. It feels like the first honest thing you’ve said in months.

Confusion is all over, like he thought he was fixing things by going the extra mile. “What do you mean?”

You gesture between you, “This–us. I can’t keep this facade going.”

“Facade?” His voice cracks a little, you hate it when it does that. Makes you want to almost take everything you said back. “What did I do wrong?”

Fuck.

“It’s not you,” you start, you know how fucking cliche it sounds. It’s the most common breakup sentence ever created. But it’s the truth.

“I just–I don’t feel the same way anymore. I tried, really did. But I can’t get myself back to where we were.”

He’s quiet, thinks for a bit, stares at his hands that were just holding yours. “Is there someone else?”

“No.” There’s no one else, truly, just the absence of him.

“Then what changed?” His voice is strained, desperate. “I can fix it. Whatever it is, I can–”

“You can’t fix this. Fix me.” You’re trying to keep your voice steady. “We’re not the same people we were in high school. I’m not the same, and I don’t think I love you the way I’m supposed to anymore.”

I don’t love you the way you deserve.

Tears are pouring from his face, he doesn’t bother to wipe them. “I love you,” he says through sobs like it will change everything.

“I know,” you whisper. “And I’m so sorry.”

He opens the car door, doesn’t look at you. “I don’t understand this. I don’t understand you.”

“I don’t either.”

He gets out, slams the door harder than needed, your Ghibli ghost shakes on the rearview mirror. You sit in the car for a long time after he’s gone.

You wait for the guilt to flood, the tears, for the crushing weight of what you just did. But it doesn’t come. There’s lightness instead of grief. 

Like the feeling you got when you discovered stepping on a crack didn’t really break your mother’s back.

I broke up with my first love, and I feel okay. I feel fine.

You call your friend, you’d recently been getting close to in chem lab, Anore. “I just broke up with him.”

You tell her, trying to sound sad, trying to sound like you’re “supposed” to.

“You okay, hun?” She’s all concerned, knows by the brief rants you’d go on while trying to get your titrate perfect.

“Yeah, I think I am.” For once, you sound like you really mean it.

She offers to come over, bring ice cream, movies, all the breakup essentials. You tell her you just need good sleep.

You don’t sleep. You lie in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation, still waiting for that regret.

Will someone ever get you as he did? But the regret never comes.

Summer goes on, you spend more time with Anore, friends from other classes. You get in the gym, read so many books, and get a better sleep schedule.

You spend the summer slowly rebuilding yourself.

I don’t miss him.

When your mom asks how Mingi is, you tell her about the breakup. She looks sad for you, asks if you’re alright. You explain that you’re fine, but you know she doesn’t believe you.

By the time August rolls back around, you’re excited about fall. Not trying to move on, not forcing yourself to be okay, you just are.

Fall camp arrives again. You’re single for the first time in years, you show up to practice without the thought of a relationship hanging over your head.

You bought new sneakers for the season, got work clothes that actually fit. The small things that feel important, like you’re starting fresh.

You don’t know it yet, but you’re about to meet someone who will make your Mingi era feel like a lifetime ago.

I’m ready, I think. Fully ready.

And when the director of sports med pulls you aside during the second week of fall camp to tell you about a transfer from football to soccer, from the linebackers to a different world, you’re shocked but take it in stride.

“Yeah. I’ll do it.”

They didn't sugarcoat why you're being moved.

"You're being moved," clipboard in his hand, not looking up. "Football's not working out. Coaches have flagged some concerns—you're becoming a distraction, and frankly, there's been chatter about 'optics.' We need to manage this before the issue gets bigger."

He finally looks at you, and there's something in his expression that makes your stomach drop. "The linebacker situation didn't help," he continues, "but it's bigger than that. Staff's been noticing patterns. You're good at your job, but you're also…visible. And visibility with players is a liability we can't afford right now."

You think about all the times you caught coaches watching you, the way conversations would stop when you walked into certain rooms. You thought you were paranoid. Guess not.

A distraction…right. How about telling the players to grow the fuck up?

But then he leans back in his chair, and his tone shifts. 

"We have a responsibility to maintain professional boundaries," he says, and it sounds scripted, like he's said this before about other girls. "Soccer's a better fit. Bigger group, more structure, less…individual attention."

Less focus on you, less opportunity for you to become a problem they have to manage.

"You'll transfer effective immediately. Defenders, back line. They'll be expecting you."

Football was fun, you won’t lie. It was loud, chaotic, and easy to disappear into. But by the end of freshman year, it started to feel suffocating.

I had to constantly prove I wasn’t there just to flirt.

Soccer feels like a reset. The first day with the defenders is very…very different.

They are loud as fuck, but in a good way. The linebackers were more quiet, more in their own head most of the time. The defenders were the opposite, constantly talking, trolling each other, laughing between drills.

You stand on the sideline with your rack of six water bottles and a towel thrown over your shoulder, watching them run through formations. They move with so much cohesion, like they’ve been playing together for years.

One of them is lean, a little tall, with longer dark hair put up in a ponytail. He glances over at you during a water break. He doesn’t say anything, just nods at you, then jogs back to the line.

Okayyyyyy, that’s definitely new.

You’re used to being ignored or hit on. The casual nod feels normal, like he’s a regular, sane person. Like you’re just part of the staff, as you should be.

It’s refreshing.

You're back where you belong. Hands filled with water bottles, eyes down, existing in the margins.

His name is Seonghwa.

You don’t learn it until about the third or fourth practice, you can’t exactly remember. When he walks over during a break and asks, “You’re new, right?”

“Transferred from football,” you say, handing him a water bottle. “Sophomore.”

Sophomore? What the fuck is wrong with you? He didn’t ask???

“Ahhh.” He takes a long drink, sweat trickling down his neck, wipes his mouth off. “ Yeah, we just got a new transfer too. Keeps to himself, though. I’m Hwa. Well, Seonghwa, but everyone calls me Hwa.”

“Cool. I’m–”

“I know who you are,” he interrupts, not in a weird way. More like he just truly already knows. “You worked with the linebackers last year, saw you around.”

Duh, football and soccer do use the same training room.

You didn’t think anyone really paid that much attention, you were always all over the place, it seemed.

“Oh well, yes, that was me.”

He nods, looks at you for a second as whistles and cleats scuffing up the dirt become background noise. “You like it better here?”

“So far.”

“Good–I’m glad.” He grins, his smile is pretty–it’s genuine. “Defenders are way more fun than the mouth breathing linebackers. Trust.”

You chuckle, then he’s gone, jogging back to the line before you can properly respond.

Every practice, Seonghwa finds a reason to talk to you. Not in a flirty way, just platonic, like he’s curious about you.

He asks about your classes, your major, what you’re doing after practice. It’s small talk that doesn’t feel forced, it makes practice bearable.

One day, he’s sitting on the bench during a water break, and you’re refilling your water bottles at the water cow nearby. He glances over and does a double-take.

“Wait—are you in orgo chem 433?

You blink, “mhm, why?”

“I’m in that class.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How did I not notice you?”

“It’s a big lecture hall,” you say. “I’m super early so I can find a seat in the back.”

“I sit in the middle rows. We should sit together.”

Really? Is that a good idea? No fraternization and all.

“Sure. If you wanna.”

“Cool.” He stands, stretches. “I’ll save you a seat so you don’t lose any more sleep by showing up early.”

He stands by those words.

Sitting with Seonghwa in class changes things. You have someone to compare notes with, someone to complain about the professor’s way of explaining molecular geometry, someone to go to the dining hall with after lecture.

He’s easy to be around, no pressure, no expectations. Just his friendship.

I didn’t realize how much I needed this.

After a class, you’re walking across campus together, and he just asks, “You doing okay? Like for real for real okay?”

You glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“Just checking in with you. Never hurts.”

You think about Mingi, that relationship, the relief after it ended. “I think so.”

That’s good enough for him, he doesn’t push. “You deserve that.”

Do I, though? You don’t know how to respond, so you just smile.

The defenders are growing on you. They probably came out of the womb screaming, but it’s the good kind of loud. Playful and supportive.

You start learning their names, their personalities, the ones who prefer pickle juice over gatorade. The ones who come to you first to have their fingers and ankles taped.

There’s one guy who’s always quiet. Built, beautiful arms and calves, brownish hair. He doesn’t talk much during practice, but focuses on drills with such intense energy.

You’ve seen how he lingers in the back, observes more than anything. Doesn’t engage with the group the way the others do.

No clue who that is.

October, you’ve found your rhythm. Classes with Seonghwa, practice, study sessions in the library. Your grades are improving, sleep is so much better. Your screentime has gone down, your phone doesn’t consume you anymore.

I’m doing okay.

After practice, Seonghwa walks you to your car. It’s become a ritual, he parks near you every day

“You coming to the game this weekend?”

“Um, yes. I’m working it.”

He leans against your car, arms crossed. “You should come to the team dinner after. The bar that’s close to campus.”

“I don’t know..” You hesitate, “I’m just supposed to be staff.”

“So? You’re part of the team. We’d be dehydrated and breaking ankles without you.” He grins, “C’monnn. It’ll be fun.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll come.”

He pushes off your car, pats your head, and starts walking towards his. “See you tomorrow.”

The game is so intense. You’re on the sideline, doing your job with ease. Water bottles, towels, keeping track of substitutions, helping with minor tape jobs. But you’re also watching, actually paying attention to the game in a way you never did with football.

Your group is fast, coordinated, and aggressive. Moving like a unit, it makes you proud in a way, even though you do very little in their capacity of competing.

Seonghwa is in the middle of it all, calls out plays, directs the traffic. He’s a leader in many ways, the kind of player everyone looks to when things get crazy.

Then there’s mr quiet guy.

He’s playing today. On the field, he’s not quiet at all. He’s very vocal, commanding. You find yourself fumbling with bottles, watching him more than you should.

You still don’t know his name, you still don’t ask.

During a water break in the half, you’re refilling bottles on the sideline when you glance up. He’s standing with his hands on his hips, catching his breath, and his eyes are already on you. Not scanning the sideline, you. You shake it off, tell yourself you imagined when he looks away, but now apparently you don’t know how to hold bottles.

The team ends the game with a win, which makes for a chaotic team dinner. The defenders group takes over half the bar, shoves tables and barstools together, order so much food.

Seonghwa saves a stool for you, and you sit down feeling a little out of place, but still feel welcomed. The quiet guy is sitting at the far end of the shoved-together tables. He’s talking and laughing.

First time I’ve seen the guy smile.

You look away before he notices you staring.

Except, the whole time, he was tracking your movement throughout the crowd without you noticing him first. Seonghwa nudges you. “You good?”

You grab a wing from the many baskets that were ordered. ‘“Yeah. I’m enjoying myself!”

Spring season is um…unique. The schedule is more chill, but more training as far as strength and conditioning goes.

Your boss asks if you can pick up extra shifts, you say yes without thinking. You need the money, and honestly, you need the distraction.

That’s when Kallan shows up. She’s the new student hire, assigned to work with the forwards, offense, opposite of you.

First day, she walks onto the field, wearing oversized glasses, messy bun. You know, I just rolled out of bed look.

“Hey,” she says, dropping her medkit next to yours. “I’m Kallan. They said I’d be shadowing you?”

“Um, likely just shadowing me during setup, we will be on opposite sides of the field once practice actually starts.”

“Ah, gotcha.”

You show her how to set up the water station, how to stay out of the way during drills, track players who need special attention. She picks it up quickly, asks good questions, and doesn’t complain about the early mornings.

By the end of the week, you grab lunch together after practices, and by the second week, she’s texting you memes at 2am. She quickly became your best friend.

“You need to go out more,” she says one day, sprawled on the grass during a break. “Like, actually go out, get cute. Not just team dinners.”

“I do go out.”

“Studying with Hwa doesn’t count.”

You throw a towel at her, she laughs as she rolls over to dodge it. “I’m serious–We’re in college, we gotta live a little.”

She’s not wrong, you’ve been so focused on fixing grades, staying out of boy trouble, that you forgot what it feels like to just exist and have fun.

Spring break comes and goes, you go home for a few days, sleep in your old bed, eat your mom's cooking after living on fast food. But you’re weirdly relieved when you get back to campus.

After break, everyone’s rusty, drills are sloppy, coaches yelling a lot more than usual. The feeling of staring starts. You’re organizing tape and supplies when Kallan nudges you hard enough to make you drop a roll.

“Ow, what–”

“Don’t look now, but that guy. Been starin’ at ya for like five minutes straight.”

“He’s not—”

“He is. I'm watching him watch you right now. It’s actually kinda intense.”

You roll your eyes, don’t look. But you feel your face heat up, and you focus hard on rewrapping the tape you just dropped.

“Ok ok, he’s looking away now,” Kallan whispers, “but girl, he was looking.”

One afternoon practice you’re refilling bottles when someone taps your shoulder. You turn around, it’s him, mr quiet guy.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is warm and deep, smooth like honey. “You’re back.”

“Uh…Yeah. Break’s over and all.”

"How was it?"

Is this dude actually making small talk….?

"Boring, nothing exciting. Yours?"

He shifts his weight, glances away for a second like he's deciding what to say. "It was fine. Quiet." He pauses, "Needed the break, I guess."

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks back at you, assessing."Glad to be back, though. The field's been boring without you."

He smiles, and it's the same smile you saw at the team dinner, but it's in your face now, and it makes your stomach do something weird.

“I’m Yeosang, by the way.”

“I know,” you say, even though you didn’t know until this very moment.

He laughs, “Do you?”

“I mean—I do now.”

He grabs a freshly refilled bottle from your hand, fingers brushing yours for half a second. “See you.”

“Kang Yeosang back on the line now!”

He drops the bottle on the ground as he sprints away. Kallan appears next to you, handing you the dropped bottle.

She has the most sinister smile on her face. “What was that?”

“Dunno.”

“He’s never talked to you before.”

“Wholeheartedly aware of that, K.”

“Now he’s what, introducing himself? After a whole semester?”

“Guess soooo.”

She squirts water on your shoe. “He’s cute.”

“K–”

She puts her hands up in defense, “I’m just saying!”

Hey Siri, play Don’t by Bryson Tiller.

But the talking doesn’t stop, over the next weeks Yeosang had become a chatterbox. Mindless things, really, but it’s consistent.

Then the hugging starts. Not full hugs, quick side hugs that seem universal for every d1 college athlete. The one that shouldn’t mean anything.

But it does mean something when he does it, he lingers, and when he pulls away, he’s always smiling.

Kallan notices it. “He’s def into you, girly.” She says after watching him jog away.

“He’s not.”

“He is.”

“He’s just being friendly, just like the rest of them.”

“Friendly.” She snorts. “Right, because all the other guys hug you like that.”

They don’t, and I know that.

You’re packing up after practice when your phone buzzes.

unknown: what’s up it’s yeosang

unknown: got ur # from one of the guys, hope that’s cool

He got my number without asking. Kallan leans over your shoulder, reads the texts and squeals like a kid in a candy shop.

“Oh my god!!!”

“Shut up.”

“You have to respond.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” But you do respond, feels rude to leave him hanging.

you: hey, yeah that’s fine

yeosang: u doing anything after practice tmr?

you: depends, why?

yeosang: wanna grab food?

Kallan is about to jump out of her clothes, watching this unfold. “Say yes. Say yes.”

“I don’t know—”

“Just do it.”

You hesitate. This is a bad idea, know it is. There are rules about this, fraternization policies, staff–player boundaries, all the things written in your contract, and the things your boss drilled into your head when you started.

But…

you: sure.

You’re a mess. You packed clothes for after practice, for lunch since you have a break before your classes start for the day. You put so much thought into the outfit, you have no clue why.

Kallan laughs at you as you explained your whole morning and she can see clothes spilling out of your bag.

“Relax, it’s just food.”

It’s not.

Practice dragssss. Every time Yeosang looks at you, your stomach does somersaults, every time he smiles you’re about mix up player meds.

Oh shit. Let’s not mix pain meds with laxatives ma’am.

When it’s over, he walks up to you, still in his practice stuff, hair damp with sweat.

“Gonna shower fast and change. You’ll be ready?”

“Yeah. Let me just—”

“Take your time.”

You grab your bag, drag Kallan to the staff room to change, and so she can help you. She gives you a thumbs up in the mirror once you both figure it out and gives you that knowing look.

You end up at a small family-owned burger joint off campus, which lots of students frequent. He orders a burger, you order a salad, and for a few minutes, it feels normal.

Then out the blue he says, “so what do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Like, what are you looking for? With this?” He gestures between the two of you.

Ohhhh, wow, okay, yeah, totally.

“Um–I wasn’t really looking for anything.”

“But if you were?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. The whole…staff—player thing.”

“I’m aware.” He leans back, spreads his legs, shoes slightly tap yours under the table. Looks at you, eyes hiding under his hair. “But I’m asking anyway.”

So many damn but’s.

"Why?"

He glances away for a second, jaw tightening like he's deciding how much to say. He's testing whether you're worth the risk. "Because I want to know."

You take a breath, a visible exhale, goosebumps rising on your arms. You’re trying not to fidget. “I don’t do casual. If that’s what you’re asking.”

He smiles, and it’s so perfect. “Neither do I.”

“I’m interested in you despite what the fuck the contracts says.”

“I–”

He puts his hand up, pauses you. “You don’t have to have an answer now, just think about it.”

I’m already thinking about it.

The rest of the meal is easier with that sitting in the back of your mind. When he drops you off at your car, he doesn’t hug you, just shoves his hands into his pockets, looking at you like you’re as pretty as a winning number on a scoreboard.

“What are you doing this weekend?” He asks.

“Probably nothing.”

He smiles again. “Text me.” Then he opens your door for you and leaves without another word.

You sit in your car, hands on the steering wheel. Look how disheveled you look in your rearview mirror. Your phone buzzes.

K: tell me everything, neowwwww

You laugh, you’re so beside yourself right now. You don’t really know what you’re doing, but you know you’re going to say yes.

The spring game finally comes around. Families everywhere, recruits touring, coaches barking like it’s a conference game.

You’re running all over the place, trying to not to trip over equipment bags scattered across the sidelines.

Yeosang plays well, you watch his every move. How his calves pulse when he pivots, the way he wipes sweat with his jersey, the way he adjusts his shorts, or bends over to retie his cleats.

Fucking weirdo, stop staring.

The final whistle blow, you pack up as usual, folding stuff, breaking down the rest areas, shoving ice bags into coolers. Most of the team is gone, heading to the locker room or meeting family in the stands.

Yeosang lingers.

He’s standing near the bench, unwrapping his fingers, talking to one of the forwards. His eyes keep flicking toward you, you feel it every time.

When you finish loading the last cooler onto the golf cart, he walks over.

“Hey.”

You look up. He’s so close, you see the grass stains on his shorts and legs, scratches on his arms, sweat still dripping from the tips of his hair.

“Hey yourself.”

He grins, pulls out his phone, types, shows you the screen, and it’s an address.

“Come hang.” He pockets his phone, starts walking backward toward the locker room. “Stop thinking so hard, just come. I’ll be there in like an hour.”

You stare out onto the field, everything is a recipe for disaster.

you: yo yeosang just invited me to hang tn, wtf wtf.

K: BITCH GO. im busy with my own situation rn but text me after

You shake your head, get on the golf cart, and start driving towards the equipment shed. You try to rush so you have enough time to shower and change beforehand.

Fine, I’ll go. Shit.

The address leads you to an apartment complex on the west part of campus. The nice ones, the ones where you can park without being towed.

But as you’re driving, something really nips at you. He just gave an address, not my place, or my roommate’s, no context at all. You’ve never been to his apartment, or know where he even lives. You’re just trusting his words and the gps on your dash.

You park, check your reflection. You look decent. It’s a casual hang, you put on a hoodie and some sweats.

At least I don’t smell like sweat.

You text Yeosang that you’re outside, he responds right away to come up on your own since the door was already open.

You take the stairs, because you’ll shit yourself because the elevator is so slow—too much time to second-guess your decisions. When you reach the fifth floor, you follow the apartment numbers until you land on the right one.

The door is cracked, music playing, vape-like smoke flowing out. You knock anyway.

“Come in!” Someone shouts.

You push the door open and freeze. Because standing in the kitchen, pouring a drink, is Seonghwa.

Wait a damn minute.

Your best friend. The person you see every day. The person you’ve been confiding in about everything. He’s here, in this apartment–which only means one thing.

He looks up, sees you, and his face does that slow smile that makes your stomach drop. A smile that says he’s been waiting for you. “Oh shit,” he says, setting the vodka bottle down. “You’re here.”

He fucking knew.

“I–” You glance around the apartment. It definitely is his. You’ve never visited his apartment despite how close you’ve been, but you notice the artwork and furniture from your FaceTime calls with him. “This is your place.”

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, still smiling. “Yeosang didn’t tell you?”

No, why would he?

Before you can respond, Yeosang walks out of the hallway, freshly showered, wearing gray sweats with a black tank that clings to him in the best way.

“You made it.” He’s grinning.

You stare at him, then at Seonghwa. Then back at Yeosang.

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. He engineered this. He brought you here knowing it was Seonghwa’s place. Knowing you didn’t know they were close like this, knowing your two separate worlds of being staff and the one of being this secret were about to collide in a way that couldn’t be undone.

“You live here too?”

“Nah, only Hwa. I’m just here a lot.”

Seonghwa snorts, “A lot is an understatement. I should start charging you rent at this point.”

You didn’t realize your best friend was this close to him. You knew they were teammates, obviously, but this is different. This is best friend level close. I have a key to your place close.

The kind of close where they talk about things, where Yeosang probably mentioned you, and Seonghwa already knows.

Now you’re standing in the middle of this apartment, and Seonghwa is looking at you like he’s not just figuring something out, but confirming it. The way his eyes move between you and Yeosang, the way his smile hasn’t dropped.

He’s not confused or surprised, he’s waiting to see what you’ll do now that the secret is out. It was out the moment you walked through that door.

“Want a drink?” Seonghwa asks, grabbing another solo cup.

You nod, and he pours some more clear and hands it to you. You take a sip and regret it, he offers you no kind of chaser.

Lightweight.

“This shit burns Hwa.”

“You’ll survive.”

Yeosang laughs, grabs his own drink, sits on the couch. You follow, perched on the edge of the cushion, trying to be as normal as possible.

Seonghwa keeps glancing at you, Yeosang keeps sitting too close, and you’re very aware of how small this apartment feels with the three of you in it.

The hours blur, you talk about the spring game, the latest girl Seonghwa is messing around with. Then Seonghwa begins to talk about how Yeosang got lost on campus during his first week, and Yeosang throws a pillow at him.

Underneath all this, there’s this sense of awareness that Seonghwa knows something is happening, even if it hasn’t been said out loud.

Around 1am, Seonghwa pours another round. “To spring season coming to an end!”

“To not getting run over,” you add. Yeosang just grins and drinks.

By the time you check the clock again, it’s past 2am. Seonghwa is yawning, stretching, making noises about needing to sleep.

“I’m kicking you both out,” he says, standing. “I have a thing in the morning, and last I checked, this isn’t the Marriott.”

“What thing?” Yeosang asks.

“A thing. Go home. Make sure she makes it back safely.”

You stand, grabbing your keys, and Yeosang follows you to the door. Seonghwa catches your eye as you leave. He doesn’t say anything, but the look is clear as day. We’re talking about this later.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Yeosang walks you to your car. The parking lot is quiet, a little eerie, every sound is like a boom box in your ears.

You unlock your car, but don’t get in right away. “Thanks for coming,” Yeosang says.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

He steps closer. “Can we talk for a second?”

“Mhm.”

You both get in the car, you in the driver’s seat, him in the passenger. You leave the engine off, the windows cracked, letting the spring air seep in.

He turns to you, leg propped up in his seat. Leaning on your middle console. “I meant what I said.”

Your heart is pounding, it’s about to hop out and do donuts in the damn parking lot. “About what?”

“About wanting this. With you.”

You swallow. “Yeosang—”

“I know it’s complicated. I know there are rules. But I really couldn’t give a shit.”

“You should care.”

“Why?” His eyes are locked on yours now. “Because some contract says we can’t? Because people might talk?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t give a fuck what people think.”

He kisses you, he moves his hand to your jaw, taste of vodka and strawberry smoke on his lips. You gasp, and he deepens the kiss, his other hand roams to your neck.

Oh my.

This is what you’ve been missing, what every other kiss has been trying to be.

Your hands pull him closer, and he groans. Then his hand moves down your neck and across your collarbone, going under your hoodie. His fingers are calloused, his hands veiny, when they brush against your ribs you shiver.

“Is this okay?” He whispers before continuing.

“Very okay.”

He kisses you again, rougher this time, and you’re obsessed with how he’s making you feel in the moment.

Your hands slide up his chest, into his hair. He’s breathing hard as he pulls back to look at you, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

“How long?”

“Since the first time I fucking saw you.”

Liar. But you kiss him anyway. Being horny, confused, and slightly tipsy never led to good decisions.

His hand slides higher, thumb brushes your bra and you arch into him.

“We should stop,” but he does the opposite, his mouth moves to your neck, sucks there for a moment.

“We should.” You whisper.

You don’t stop still, you stay like that for god knows how long, all you feel is him and the way he whispers in your ear.

“I want more,” he says quietly. “I want all of it.”

You close your eyes, you’re scared deep down. You want to trust him, lean into him.

“Let me give it to you.”

You nod because you can’t speak, your throat is closed shut, and your chest hurts. You start to understand why liking someone makes you do dumb things.

God.

He kisses you one more time and pulls back. “Drive safe,” he says opening the door.

“You too.”

He does that grin. “I’m walking, not far from here.”

“Right.” He closes the door, taps the roof, and walks away. You sit there, shaking, replaying every little second that just transpired.

The can of worms I just opened…

You look at yourself in the mirror, and you’re a mess. Emotionally and physically. You start the engine and pull out of the parking lot. The drive back and all you can think about is his lips on yours, his eyes.

Eyes you can feel yourself drowning in.

You show up to practice a few days later and immediately regret everything you’ve done in any capacity.

Kallan is already setting up the med kit when you arrive, and she gives you a look that says bitch we’re talking about this later. You avoid eye contact, fill water bottles while spilling, doing your actual job, anything that doesn’t involve looking at the grassy field.

Yeosang is stretching near the middle of the field with a few other defenders. Your hands shake while you’re cutting the pre-wrap, drop the scissors twice. Your resort to just ripping it with your hands.

“You okay?” Kallan whispers, leaning close.

“Fine.”

“You’ve always been so bad at lying.”

You shrug your shoulders, move on, because she's so right. Practice starts, and you slip into autopilot. Your body knows what to do without your brain having to think about it. Players call for you and you're already there, already moving, already anticipating what they need before they ask. 

It's the only thing keeping you together right now. Your hands steady when they're working. Your breathing levels out. You exist only in the task in front of you.

The way I’m supposed to be.

Except you’re not invisible, not when it comes to him.

You’re crouched down next to a midfielder, wrapping his ankle when you feel that awareness. You glance up, and Yeosang is standing a few feet away, water bottle in hand, staring directly at you.

He doesn’t look away, just stares at you. You break first, drop your gaze back to the ankle you’re working on, fingers fumbling the tape.

Please get your shit together.

“You sure you good? I never see you fumble like this,” the midfielder asks, looking down at you.

“Yeah yeah, sorry. You’re set.”

He jogs off, and you stand, brushing dirt off your knees. When you look up again, Yeosang is back in the drill, but Kallan is staring at you with her mouth a little open.

“What?” It comes off pretty sharp, you’re on edge.

“What?” She repeats, eyes wide. “Dude. He was literally just—”

“Stop.”

“Oh, my god. Something did fucking happen.”

“Kallan.”

“We’re talking about this tonight. My room, order wings or something, and you’re spilling your guts.”

You don’t argue, you want to tell someone before you pull your hair out. Practice ends and you pack up quicker than usual, keeping your head down. You’re loading the med kit into the storage closet when you hear footsteps, cleats hitting the floor.

“Hey.”

You freeze, turn around. Yeosang is standing in the doorway of the training room, still in all of his practice stuff.

“Hi.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, it’s called working.”

“Sure.” He steps closer, “You okay?”

Everyone keeps asking me that. No, no, I’m not.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

He nods, turns to leave. “Text me later?”

You know you shouldn’t. “Okay.”

He grins just a little and walks out. You stand there for a few minutes, heart banging, before Kallan appears in the doorway.

“I’m ordering cinnamon rolls too,” she says flatly. “You need it.”

Kallan’s dorm smells like fried food and acetone. She’s sitting criss-crossed on her bed, two boxes of wings open between you, cinnamon rolls still warm in the container. You’re on the floor with your back against her bed frame, trying to eat celery even though you hate it.

“Okay.” Kallan says, wiping lemon pepper off her fingers. “Start talkin’.”

You take a short breath. “We kissed.”

She doesn’t even blink. “I need details.”

You tell her everything. The apartment, the hours of drinking and talking, Yeosang walking to your car. The way he kissed you, how his hands made you shiver, the way he said I want more.

By the time you finish, Kallan’s jaw is dropped. “Wow, shit–That’s...” She pauses, reaches for another wing. “That’s really fucking romantic and also completely insane.”

“Like, you get that you could lose your job, right? If anyone finds out–”

“I know, Kallan.”

She’s quiet for a second, chewing. “Does Seonghwa know? Like, know know?”

“I’m sure he has a clue, he’s not stupid.”

“And you haven’t talked to him since?”

You shake your head. Your phone has been on DND since you left that parking lot. You’ve been too scared to even look at it.

Kallan leans forward on her knees. “Okay. Real talk, do you actually want this? Not just the kissing and the he’s hot part. Do you want him?”

You don’t hesitate one bit. “Yes.”

“Even if it means sneaking around? Lying to everyone, your boss? Possibly blowing up your credits?”

Yes. I hate to say it. Yes.

“I think so.”

“Then you need to get ahead of this. Talk to Hwa before he comes to you and figure out what the hell you’re actually doing with Yesoang, because ‘we made out in a parking lot’ isn’t going to cut it.”

“What if Seonghwa hates the idea, hates me?”

“He won’t. He’s your best friend, dude. He’ll be pissed, maybe, but he won’t hate you. Just needs to hear it from you first.”

You nod, pull out your phone and your heart sinks. Texts from Seonghwa.

hwa: you okay?

hwa: we should talk

hwa: let me know when you’re free please

Kallan reads your screen, hands you a cinnamon roll. “Eat this, then text him back.”

you: tmr after orgo?

hwa: yeah. my place

Kay, gonna go cry now.

Seonghwa’s apartment looks the same as before, a little bit more lived in, a less mysterious place this go round. You jiggle the knob, door is already unlocked.

He’s sitting on the couch when you arrive, legs stretched out, arms crossed. He looks tired.

“Hey,” you say as you close the door behind you. He nods, and you sit on the opposite end of the couch. You both don’t speak for a while.

Seonghwa finally sighs, gets straight to the point. “So. Yeosang.”

Your throat tightens.

“How long?”

“It’s not–” You stop yourself, knowing not to lie to him. “Since spring break, officially. But he’s been…I don’t know, watching me since fall.”

Seonghwa nods, like he knows already. “He told me.”

“He told you?”

“After you left, he came back up.” He rubs his face with both hands. “He said he kissed you, said he’s been trying to get your attention for months, and finally got it.”

I–I don’t even know what to feel, say. What the fuck.

“Look,” Seonghwa continues, “I’m not mad. I’m not going to lecture you about rules or whatever. You’re an adult, but I need you to be real with me right now. What are you doing?”

“I dunno.”

“Bullshit. It’s fucking bullshit.”

You flinch a bit, Seonghwa doesn’t swear at you, not ever.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” his voice is firm. “You’re risking your job, your reputation. The thing you worked your ass off to rebuild after the football transfer. And for what? A guy you’ve known for what, two months?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Please enlighten me on what the hell it’s like.”

You try to grasp for the words. "He makes me feel…like I matter? Like, actually matter. Not like I'm just the water girl or the trainer or someone's girlfriend. He looks at me like I'm—"

"Like you're worth that risk." Seonghwa finishes for you.

You nod slowly. The risk.

"I get it. I do. But you need to understand what you're walking into. If your boss finds out, you're done. If the team finds out, it's a whole thing. And Yeosang—" He pauses. "Yeosang doesn't do anything halfway. If you're in, you're in."

"I watch you protect yourself with everything, and I'm worried you're about to blow up the life you just got back."

Your eyes start to sting, and everything he’s saying holds so much weight with you. You’re scared, and he knows it.

He reaches over to squeeze your hand. “Be smart about this, dude, don’t get sloppy. And for the love of god, don’t let anyone else see what I saw between you last night.”

You laugh a little, “Oh, what did you see?”

“You looking at him like you’d drink his backwash if he asked.” Seonghwa shakes his head, smiling. “It was gross, never inviting you both over again.”

He lets go of your hand. “Just be careful, please.”

You stay for another twenty minutes, talking about class and practice and anything that doesn’t involve the name that starts with Y. When you leave, Seonghwa hugs you at the door.

“I’m still your best friend,” he says into your hair. “Even when you’re being so so dumb.”

“Love you too, Hwa.”

Days pass, and it’s late April when your lovely roommate tells you she’s leaving for the weekend. Claims it’s a family emergency, you nod, wish her well, but your brain is already calculating next steps.

Empty room…two nights…no interruptions.

You don’t text Yeosang right away, you wait until she’s actually gone and you hear her physically leave the parking lot.

you: roommate’s gone for the weekend

yeosang: be there in 20

You spend those twenty minutes in a full spiral. You know the ritual every college girl knows when a boy comes to their dorm.

Cleaning every crevice, you even think about cleaning the grout in the bathroom. You change your sheets, light your favorite candles, check your reflection ten times. Realize you’re wearing the same hoodie he’s seen you in before.

Wait–who cares?

When he knocks, you open the door, and he’s standing there with a grin and two large qt slushies and a bag of lifesaver gummies.

“You brought snacks?”

“Duh, thoughtful like that.” He steps inside, hands you your drink. “How was your day?”

Asks such a basic question, but you read so much into it like you’re not about to cross every line to ever exist.

“Long,” you admit, “Had a demonstration in physics. Pretty sure I bombed it. The ta gave me not so good looks.”

“You didn’t bomb it…maybe they were just expressive?”

You giggle, like the optimism, even though he has no clue. “You’re too hard on yourself.” He sets the lifesavers on your desk, turns to face you.

You take a sip of the slush, pretty sure you gave yourself a brain freeze it almost creates a headache. He watches you as you hold your temples.

“C’mere,” he says quietly.

You set your drink down to avoid responding. His hands find your waist, pulling you in until you’re standing between his legs, where he’s leaning against your desk.

“Hi pretty.”

You shy away, feeling all the butterflies, but he grabs your chin to face him and kisses you. His hands slide up your sides, under your hoodie, tracing your spine.

He pulls back. “Can I stay?”

“You may.”

“You sure?”

You cup his face, squeeze his cheeks. “Yeosang. I’m sure.”

He goes in to kiss you again, hands move to pull your hoodie over your head. You know where this is about to go, and you’re not scared.

You move to your bed, thankful your university supplies fulls instead of twins. The mattress dips under your weight as you lie back, and he hovers over you, eyes searching for answers on your face.

“Tell me if you want to stop.”

You shake your head no.

“Words, I will stop this second, I swear.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

He kisses you more, his lips find every point on your body. Caresses your body like silk, being so gentle. The opposite of how he is on the field.

He removes his own shirt, and your hands run over his chest, his biceps, his shoulders. His arms are my favorite.

“Touchy,” he says, amused.

“You’re built so prettily, what can I say?”

He laughs, dips his head to kiss you again. “I’d argue you’re prettier in this case.” The rest of your clothes come off slowly. When you’re down to your underwear, the reality of it all hits you.

Your body and mind are aware of every touch, the roughness of his hands, his mouth, the way your little bed frame creaks when he shifts.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m nervous.”

He lifts his head to look at you. “We don’t have to–”

“No, I want to.” You pull him back down. “I’m just…it’s different.”

He knows what you mean. Different from Mingi, different from the only person you’ve ever done this with.

“We’ll go slow.”

His fingers hook into your panties, and you nod. He pulls them down, and you’re open like a 24/7 McDonald’s in front of him. He takes a second to just look, and your face heats up.

“Stop staring.”

“Can’t help it.” His voice is deeper, rougher. “You’re so damn pretty.”

He kisses you again, and his hand slides between your legs. You gasp when his fingers glide up and down, watching how your face contorts.

“This okay?”

“Yeah.”

He opens you up slowly with one finger, then starts scissor motion with two. You’re gripping his shoulders, trying not to make too much noise because the dorm walls are thin. But it feels good, better than you expected.

It feels so perfect.

then a flash. Your boss's face when he transferred you. EW.  This is exactly what he meant. This is the thing he was trying to prevent, and you're doing it anyway, in a dorm room with thin walls. 

Stop thinking. Stop.

But you can't. Because if anyone finds out, you lose your job. Your grad school applications. Everything you rebuilt. He pulls back slightly, sensing the shift in your body. "You good?"

You are making a choice you can't unmake. But his eyes are on yours, waiting, and you realize you don't care about any of it, not the job, not the rules, not the inevitable fallout. You want this more than you want to be safe.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Keep going."

When he pulls his hand away, you whine at the loss. He sits back, pulls off his boxers, your stomach flips when you look down.

There’s no way he’s that big. No way no way no way.

He catches you staring and smirks. “Like?”

“Please shut up.”

He laughs, leans over to his discarded pants to pull a condom out of the pocket. He tears the packet with his teeth, and you watch in awe.

“Come here,” he says as he settles between your legs.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down until his forehead hits yours. He lines himself up, and you feel the pressure, the stretch as he starts to push in.

“Breathe, you’re tensing.” He whispers.

You breathe through the discomfort, the fullness, trying to give your body time to adjust. He goes super slow, giving you time.

“Okay?” His voice is strained, you think he probably just wants to pound into you, but he’s showing so much restraint.

“Yeah, yeah.”

He pushes in further, and you gasp, nails digging into his back. It’s a lot, but it’s not painful. When he’s fully inside, he stops, lets you adjust again, presses kisses to your jaw and neck.

“Uhhh–you feel so good. So fucking good.”

You can’t respond, you’re too busy trying to process the sensation, the closeness of it, the way he’s laser-focused on you.

You feel every inch of him when he starts thrusting, his breathing, your breathing, the slickness of your bodies. The gasps you can’t hold back.

“Look at me,” he says.

You direct your attention to him, his gaze is intense. He’s really seeing me.

With Mingi, sex felt comfortable, familiar. You knew what to expect, the rhythm, how it would end. This feels opposite, every touch feels intentional and like a choice.

“So so beautiful.” He whispers. He shifts the angle and you cry out, so he hits that spot over and over until your shaking beneath him.

“Yeo–”

“I got you I got you.”

His hands slides between your bodies, finds your clit and your back arches as he continues to move inside you. The pleasure builds fast and you’re clinging to him so hard, he’s the only solid thing around you.

You come hard, and you feel him follow a little later as his body tenses and groans against your neck. For a moment, you’re both breathing hard and tangled together.

He pulls out, ties off the condom, tosses it in the trash by your desk. I need to take the trash out before she gets back.

Then he’s back, pulling you into his arms, and you bury your face in his chest.”Everything okay?”

You nod, water glossing over your eyes.

“Hey hey.” He tilts your chin up, wipes the tears with his thumb. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine…It’s just a lot.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good…really good.”

He kisses your forehead. Oh shit, not the forehead kiss. Then kisses your cheeks, the tip of your nose.

“You scared me for a second.”

“Sorry.”

He pulls you closer and wraps the blanket around both of you. “I meant what I said before, I’m all in with you.”

You lie there in the quiet, replaying every moment that just transpired. Treated you like you mattered, like you were more than just a body or a distraction.

You don’t know it yet, but you’ll replay this night obsessively all summer. When the texts stop coming, when the promises evaporate. When you realize that all in meant something different to him than it did to you.

Right now in this moment, his arms around you and the sound of his heart under your head makes you feel safe.

Moving into May becomes a rush of precious moments and navigation. Kallan, knowing the full truth, only adds to the excitement.

Kallan documents everything, down to secret photos like the two of you leaving practice separately but meeting up five minutes later in the parking lot, screenshots of his morning texts, candid pictures of him looking at you when you’re focused on something else.

She’s so giddy about it constantly, sends you the evidence with captions like he’s so downbad, and you’re such a simp.

And you are definitely such a simp for him.

Every morning begins the same. His text always comes first, never the cliche good mornings, but things like how’d you sleep? or what’s your schedule today? He always remembers how you get mean when you haven’t had time for your weekly sushi fix, so he shows up after every orgo lab with a tray of it. He learns your routine faster than anything else.

“You don’t gotta do this every time.”

“Don’t care, wanted to, schedule open.”

He’s thinking about me and acts on it.

You start to compare the difference with Mingi, everything felt like maintenance. Checking in out of requirement instead of it being a want, saying i love you out of expectation.

Yeosang feels like a choice, a purpose.

The physical stuff is 24/7 when you two are alone, kisses in your car after practice, hands on your thigh as you drive. Late night dorm visits when your roommate’s asleep, going to his apartment, learning the way his breath catches when you kiss his neck, the sound he makes when your hands slide under his shirt.

You learn every part of his body. The mole on his vline, the scar on his leg from being kicked during a game. The way his muscle tenses up right before he comes, how he pulls you close each time.

“Why are you staring at me in the pitch black?” he says sleepily, half asleep in bed.

You trace his birthmark near his eye, “Just appreciating what I’m lying next to.”

He laughs, eyes squinting, “You’re so silly.”

He’s just so different. I feel it.

But when you text him about summer, just asking if he's thought about what you two are doing when he leaves for training, and he doesn't respond. An hour passes, you check your phone, delivered and not read.

Three hours go. You're spiraling now. Did you say something wrong? Was the question too much? You reread your text for the hundredth time. It's a normal question to ask your boyfriend. Except, am I his girlfriend? He's never actually said it. You've never actually said it. 

Your stomach starts doing this thing where it twists and doesn't untwist, like you’re getting a literal stomachache. 

The guy who double-texts when you don't respond fast enough. Who sends you voice memos Who texts miss you after you've been apart for twenty minutes.

That guy does not go five hours without responding. Five hours, your phone buzzes and you nearly drop it.

yeosang: yeah we'll figure it out

It's flat. Like he's responding to a work email, like you asked him about a group project instead of about your entire fucking relationship. Like you're not someone he's been inside of, someone he promised he was all in for.

You scroll up through your texts, looking for proof that you didn't imagine the last weeks.

All of that and now you get yeah we'll figure it out like you're a problem he'll deal with later.

You don't sleep that night. The next day he goes through drills and when you hand him a water bottle during a break, his hand brushes yours and it feels like touching a stranger.

"Thanks," he says.

Just that, not your name. Not hey or thank you or the way he usually holds your gaze for a beat too long, that smile that says I know exactly what you look like under those clothes. 

He knows something's wrong. And he's choosing not to fix it. He's choosing to let you stand here, confused and spiraling, instead of just talking to you.

So you swallow the question, swallow the panic. Swallow the part of you that wants to grab his arm and demand to know what the fuck changed between yesterday and today. You hand the next water bottle to Seonghwa, trying to act like your chest isn't caving in.

The rest of practice is torture. When practice ends, he doesn't come find you. He used to always come find you. Even if it was just for thirty seconds, even if it was just to touch your hand or whisper see you later or steal a kiss when no one was looking. 

But today he just packs up his stuff and leaves with Seonghwa, and you stand there watching him go, feeling like you're watching the beginning of the end.

In the evening, he's texting you again. wish you were here with a photo of his food, and for a second you think maybe you imagined it, maybe you're spiraling over nothing, maybe he was just tired yesterday. You convince yourself that's true, need it to be true.

At practices, you’re careful, super professional. You hand him water bottles like you hand them to everyone else. You don’t linger, don’t stare, but the other defenders notice anyway. His eyes track your every movement, how you both show up early and leave late, the energy shifts when you’re in the same space.

They don't say anything, but you catch them smirking sometimes, exchanging looks.

Seonghwa watches, but he doesn't push, doesn't confront. You avoid being alone with him outside of class. He’s literally my best friend. What am I doing?

You think about why you’re avoiding everything, when the answer is clear as day.

You don't care about the staff-player boundaries or the optics or the fact that this could blow up in your face. You care about the way Yeosang texts you at 2am just to say can't sleep, thinking about you.

The way he remembers your favorite color is green, and how he always makes sure he’s taped up in green as a silent way of saying I'm yours. The way he looks at you is like you’re the soccer ball on the field.

Spring semester ends in a haze of finals and late-night study sessions where he quizzes you on organic chem and physics even though he already took it. You pass, barely, but he celebrates like you got a perfect score.

"Told you," he says, kissing your temple. "You're a smart girl."

The last practice of the semester feels bittersweet. Summer's coming, you'll both be around, he's going for summer training, you're staying for a second session of classes and work-study. But something about the end of spring feels like the end of something bigger.

I have an aching feeling in my chest, and I don’t know why.

That night, lying in his arms in your dorm room, feels like you've finally found the thing you didn't know you were looking for. Like the universe dropped this man in your lap.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, fingers tracing circles on your shoulder.

“Nothing…just happy." But I’m thinking about everything.

He kisses the top of your head, pulls you closer. "Me too."

You fall asleep wrapped up in him, in the certainty that this is real, that he meant what he said, that all in means the same thing to both of you.

You have no idea that spring showers will not bring you May flowers.

That the texts will stop all the way, that the promises will evaporate. That all in was only true when it was easy, but right now, in this moment, you believe him.

The first week of summer feels like you’re a flower absorbing the sun, but in reality, you’re wilting.

My color is leaving me.

Yeosang leaves for prep training, an intensive program on the west coast with scouts and coaches and other rising seniors trying to prove they're worth the investment. He texts you before his flight, sends a picture of his boarding pass with the caption miss you already.

You send back a heart and tell him to be safe.

I'm being so normal about this.

There's an ache in your chest that starts the second he boards that plane. You tell yourself it's just because you miss him.

The texts keep coming those first few days. Good morning messages that make you smile so hard, smile lines never leave your face.

Updates about how brutal the training is, how the coaches are riding him, how he's exhausted but it's worth it. He sends you a selfie post-workout, hair damp, face flushed, and you save it, screenshot it twice just to be sure.

you: good lookin kang yeo: you miss me yet? you: maybe a little yeo: just a little? damn

You smile at your phone like a dummy. Kallan notices and rolls her eyes.

"You're disgusting," she says.

"Shut up."

"I'm happy for you," she clarifies. "But also disgusting."

You don't tell her about the ache. About how you sleep with your phone on the pillow next to you, the heat making your pillow hot, volume turned all the way up, just in case he texts in the middle of the night.

About how the summer heat feels suffocating in a way it never did before, like the air is too thick.

He’ll be back, stop tweaking.

The second week, the texts are still there but slower. He's busy, you get it. You tell yourself this is normal, he's under pressure and focused.

I’m fine. Yeah. Fine.

Then his responses take hours again. Sometimes a full day. The good morning texts stop, you send him updates about your summer classes, about how you're dying in anatomy, about how Kallan almost set off the fire alarm, making a seafood boil in an air fryer at 1am.

He hearts the messages, doesn't reply, the bare minimum. A response that doesn’t really feel like one.

And those hearts, god, those hearts feel like crumbs. Like he's tossing you small little heartbeats just to keep you quiet, but always listening.

You stare at the little reaction, at the tiny acknowledgment that he saw what you said, and your stomach twists more.

At least he's reading them, at least he's thinking about me.

You try calling once, your hands shake as you press his name, as you listen to it ring until it goes to voicemail. You hang up immediately, heart pounding, body hot with shame.

What was I even going to say? "Hey, are we okay? Are you ghosting me? Did I do something wrong?"

You hate that thought the second it crosses your mind. Hate that you're becoming the person who waits by the phone, who checks for read receipts obsessively, who refreshes the message thread just to see if maybe, maybe, he's typing.

Kallan notices you checking your phone more. "He still being weird?"

"He's not being weird," you snap too quickly. "He's just busy."

"Uh-huh."

"He is."

You begin rationalizing everything. He's training, this is his career, his entire future. Of course he's focused. Of course, he doesn't have time to text.

you: hey, i know you're busy. just wanted to say i'm proud of you. you're gonna kill it.

He reads it immediately.

Wow. Read 11:30pm.

You watch the timestamp appear, watch it sit there. You stare at the screen until your eyes burn like they do with dry contacts. Until the letters blur. Until you have to put the phone down because the weight of it is so heavy.

No response is a response.

You don't text him again after that. Not for a few days. You tell yourself you're giving him space, but really, you're protecting yourself. Because every unanswered message feels like proof that you're not important, that you never were.

As summer continues, the texts have stopped completely. You're the only one reaching out, and even that feels pathetic now. The read receipts pile up like evidence of your own desperation.

Seonghwa asks if you're okay during a study session.

"Yeah, why?"

"You seem…off."

Off. That's one way to put it.

"Just tired.”

He doesn't believe you, but he lets it go. You're starting to realize that's Seonghwa's superpower, knowing when to push and when to just sit with you in silence.

You want to ask if he's heard from Yeosang. If Yeosang's mentioned you. If this is normal, or if you're being ghosted in real time.

You already know the answer, but hearing it out loud would make it real.

Your birthday is late July. You tell yourself, for an entire week leading up to it, that he's saving the gesture. That he's been distant because he's planning something. A surprise? A heartfelt message? Something I hope.

He knows when my birthday is, we talked about it in bed, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin. He asked when it was.

He smiled and said he'd remember. He has to remember.

Kallan tries to plan something, dinner, drinks, a night out, but you're weirdly anxious about committing to plans. Because what if he shows up? What if he flies back early to surprise you?

"You're waiting for him," Kallan says flatly, two days before your actual birthday.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm just—"

"Babe." She puts her hand on yours, and the gentleness in her voice makes your throat tight. "He's not coming."

You pull your hand back. "You don't know that."

The day before your birthday, you break. You send him one more text, and your hands are shaking so hard you have to retype it three times.

you: tmr is my birthday. i don't know if you remember. i know you're busy, but…i miss you. i hope you're okay.

You watch the message deliver. Watch it switch to read 9:25pm.

You wait for nothing. You fall asleep with your phone on your chest, the screen facing up so you'll see the notification the second it comes. You wake up every hour, reaching for the phone in the dark.

You wake up on your birthday to messages from Kallan, from Seonghwa, from your parents, from friends back home.

Nothing from Yeosang, his absence hits you. You lie there, staring at the ceiling, phone clutched in your hand.

It's early, he's probably still asleep. Time zones and all.

You check your phone every ten minute. You're refreshing instagram, twitter, anything to see if he's posted, if he's active, if he's even alive.

At 2, he posts a story. A gym selfie, sweaty, post-workout, no caption. Your stomach drops.

So he's awake. He's just ignoring me.

He's alive, he's fine. He's posting on social media for everyone to see. He just doesn't care enough to text you.

On my birthday.

Kallan takes you to dinner that night. Seonghwa comes too, brings you a cupcake with a little candle. They sing happy birthday horribly in the middle of the restaurant, and you smile because you're supposed to. Because they're trying and because they care.

But you're checking your phone under the table, still nothing.

Seonghwa leaves after dinner. "One more drink," Kallan says, linking her arm through yours. "Come on. It's your birthday. Let's go back to mine."

You should go home, crawl into bed, let this day end, but in reality, you don’t want to be alone.

She's got bottles of cheap Fireball and buzzballs on her desk, half-empty already, and she pours you both drinks in plastic cups.

"To you," she says, raising hers. "To surviving another year of bullshit."

You clink cups. The cinnamon-like drink burns going down, you fucking hate it. She pours herself another, then another.

You're nursing, barely sipping, but Kallan's already loose, laughing too loud at things that aren't funny. She's talking about some guy from her literature class, some drama with her roommate, and you're nodding along, half-listening, checking your phone every few minutes.

"You're doing it again," Kallan says suddenly.

You look up. "What?"

"Checking your phone." Her voice has an edge now. "Waiting for him."

Your stomach tightens. "I'm not—"

"You are." She takes another drink, longer this time. "You've been doing it all night. At dinner, in the car, right now. You're obsessed."

"K, I'm not—"

"He's not texting you." She says it flat, matter-of-fact. "He didn't text you all day. He's not gonna text you now."

The words hit harder than they should. "I know that," you say quietly.

"Do you?" She leans forward, eyes glassy. "Because you keep checking. Like if you look hard enough, he'll magically give a shit."

"Kallan."

"What?" She laughs, sharp and bitter. "You want me to lie? Pretend like this isn't pathetic?"

"You're drunk," you say carefully.

"So?" She pours herself another drink, spilling a little on the desk. "Doesn't make it less true."

"You knew what he was," Kallan continues, voice rising. "You knew the rules. You knew he was a player, you knew the risks, and you did it anyway."

"K, stop."

"Why?" She stands now, swaying slightly. "Because it hurts? Because you don't want to hear it?"

Your hands are shaking, you set your cup down before you drop it.

"You broke every fucking rule," she continues, words slurring slightly. "You risked your job, your reputation, everything you rebuilt—for what? For some guy who can't even text you on your birthday?"

Your vision blurs. "You told me to go for it. You encouraged me."

"Because I thought you'd be smart about it! I thought you'd have fun, keep it casual, not fall in love like some desperate—"

She stops herself, but the word hangs there anyway. Desperate, it stings

"You thought you were special," Kallan says, quieter now. "You thought he'd choose you. That you'd be different. But you weren't. You were just another girl who broke the rules and got burned."

The tears come before you can stop them.

"And now you're sitting here, crying over some guy who didn't even care enough to send you a text, and I'm supposed to—what? Feel bad for you? Throw you a party and pretend like you didn't do this to yourself?"

"Stop," you whisper.

"You're pathetic."

You stand, legs feeling unsteady, but you force yourself to move.

"Where are you going?" Kallan asks.

You don't answer, you grab your phone, your keys, and walk to the door.

"Wait—" She reaches for you, but you pull away.

"Don't," you say, voice cracking. "Don't touch me." You leave before she can say anything else. Before you break completely in front of her.

You make it a few doors down before your knees give out, and you have to lean against the wall, gasping for air.

Pathetic.

You did this to yourself.

And the worst part,is that she's right. You broke the rules, fell too hard, believed him when he said all in.

Now you're standing in a dorm hallway at 10pm on your birthday, alone, because the guy you loved didn't care enough to text you, and your best friend just called you pathetic to your face.

By 10, you're back in your room,and it all finally crashes down on you. He just didn't care. This is worse than Mingi.

Because Mingi, at least, tried. Mingi was honest.

Yeosang just…erased you. No explanation, no apology. No I'm sorry I've been distant. Just nothing. You're not even worth a text.

You're not even worth happy birthday.

You fall for people who are intense, who make you feel like you matter, who promise you everything, until the moment it's inconvenient. Then they leave.

They leave, and you let them. You fall for pretty words even if they come from a snake's lips.

I hate that I let him do this to me.

You hate that you broke your own rules for him. You don't know it yet, but fall camp will start up again. Yeosang will be back on campus, and you'll have to see him again.

You'll have to work with him. Tape his ankles, hand him water, pretend you're fine, and he'll act like nothing happened. Like you were never important enough to hurt.

Right now, all you know is that the guy who said he was all in didn't even show up for your birthday, and you're starting to think that says more about you than it does about him.

August comes too fast, way too fucking fast. You're not ready. You tell yourself you are, you spent the rest of summer working out, reading, forcing yourself to be okay, but the second you step onto the practice field for fall camp again, your chest tightens because he's already there.

Yeosang.

He's standing with the forwards now. Not the defenders, the forwards.

You blink, confused for a second, because that's not where he's supposed to be. He's a defender. That's his position, that's where you've always seen him.

But he's bulked up over the summer, shoulders broader, arms thicker, moving differently. One of the assistant coaches is talking to him, gesturing toward the goal, and Yeosang nods, focused.

He transferred positions.He's not in your zone anymore. Defenders are your responsibility, forwards have their own trainer. You don’t feel relieved about it in the slightest.

Practice starts, and you're assigned to the defenders like always. Seonghwa's there, giving you a small nod from across the field. I'm here. You're okay.

But your eyes keep drifting, to the forwards. To Yeosang. He's thriving. And you're standing on the sideline with a water bottle in your hand, watching him like some pathetic extra in his story.

Stop looking at him.

You force yourself to focus on the defenders. Do your job, but you can feel the idea of the decision forming in your chest.

That night, you're lying in bed, and you can't stop thinking about it. You'll barely see him, barely interact. It'll be easier this way.But the thought of not seeing him every day is unfathomable to you. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You grab your phone, pull up the staff schedule, and stare at it for a long time.You're the lead student staff, you have privileges. You can request position group changes if there's a valid reason. This is not a valid reason, but your fingers are already typing the email.

subject: position group transfer request

Hi Coach,

I'd like to request a transfer from defenders to forwards for this season. I think the change would help me develop a more well-rounded skill set and provide better support across the team.

Let me know if this works.

Thanks.

You hit send before you can talk yourself out of it. Then you throw your phone across the bed and press your palms into your eyes.

I'm so fucking stupid.

The next morning, the transfer is approved. No questions asked, no kind of pushback. You're officially assigned to the forwards now.

Which means you're officially assigned to him. Seonghwa finds out within hours, he doesn't text, he calls. "What the fuck are you doing?" His voice is sharp.

You're walking to class, and you stop in the middle of the sidewalk. "What?"

"You transferred. To forwards."

Shit.

"Yeah. I just—wanted a change."

"Bullshit." He exhales hard. "You followed him."

"I didn't—"

"Don't lie to me." His voice softens. "He ghosted you. He didn't text you on your birthday. And you're following him to a different position group?"

You don't say anything.

"Why?" Seonghwa asks quietly. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"I don't know," you whisper.

"I know him," Seonghwa says. "He's my friend, and I love him, but I know him. He's not going to give you what you need."

"I'm not expecting anything—"

"Then why did you transfer?"

Seonghwa sighs. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But I'm choosing you over him. You know that, right? If it comes down to it, I'm choosing you."

Your throat tightens. "Hwa—"

"Just be careful again. Please."

Be careful, seems like that’s a common phrase he’s uses with me. Yet, I still don’t fucking listen.

The first practice with the forwards is awkward. Yeosang sees you walk up, and for a second, something flickers across his face.

"Hey," he says casually, like you're just another staff member.

"Hey."

That's it, that's the whole interaction. But over the next few days, something shifts, he starts testing you.

Little things at first. Holding eye contact a second too long when you hand him a water bottle. Brushing past you closer than necessary. Smiling at you in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

Then he starts talking to other trainers. Flirting with them. Laughing too loud, touching their arms, making sure you can see. He's trying to make me jealous, and it’s working. You're in the training room after practice, alone, restocking supplies, and he walks in.

"Need help?"

You don't look at him. "I'm good."

He leans against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. "You transferred," he says finally.

"Yup."

"Why?"

You set down the box you're holding and turn to face him. "Does it matter?"

"Yeah. It does."

You stare at him, and for a second, you see it. The same intensity from spring, the same pull. Don't do this. Don't fall for it again. But then he steps closer, and your breath hitches, and you know you're already fucked.

You can see exactly what's about to happen.  He's going to kiss you. You're going to let him. And then you're going to do this all over again, the hookups, the hollow feeling, the waiting for texts that won't come.

"I missed you," he says quietly.

He kisses you, and you fall into the rhythm of his lips all over again. You hook up after practices. In the training room, in your car, once in the equipment closet when no one else is around.

It's physical and hot, but it's hollow.

He doesn't text you between hookups. Doesn't ask how you're doing. Doesn't acknowledge you outside of when he wants something. By mid-fall, the whole team knows. One of the forwards, Yunho, asks Yeosang about it in the locker room, and Yeosang doesn't deny it.

"Yeah," he says casually. "We're…something."

Something. Not together, not dating. Just something.And when someone asks if you're his girlfriend, he shrugs. "She knows what this is."

Do I?

It's late fall when Yeosang corners you in the training room after everyone's cleared out. You're restocking ice packs, back turned.

You don't turn around. "What."

"Can we talk?"

"About what?"

He shifts his weight. You can feel him hesitating, "About…summer." Your hands freeze on the ice pack you're holding. You set it down slowly, turn to face him. "What about it?"

He exhales, runs a hand through his hair. "I just—I wanted to explain. I was under a lot of pressure, you know? Draft stuff, training, scouts watching everything I did. I didn't know how to handle it and I didn't want to…I don't know, hurt you more by being a mess."

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

"So you ghosted me instead."

"I didn't mean to—"

"You went radio silent for months, Yeosang."

He flinches at his own name. "I know. I fucked up. I just—I'm trying to say I'm sorry."

You stare at him. He looks like he actually believes this apology means something. "You're not just my water girl, you know that right?" he says, and the words hit you like a slap.

Water girl.

The term hangs in the air between you. It's what you were reduced to, a role, not a person.

Your jaw tightens. "Is that what you think this is?" Your voice is quiet, "You apologize and I'm supposed to what, forgive you? Feel better?"

"I—no, I just wanted you to know—"

"This apology isn't for me." You step closer, "This is for you. So you can feel less guilty about being a selfish asshole."

"That's not—"

"You couldn't even text me on my birthday."

He goes still. "You couldn't send me a single fucking text on my birthday, Yeosang. Not 'happy birthday,' not 'sorry I've been busy,' nothing. You forgot about me. And now you want to stand here and tell me you were under pressure?"

"I was—"

"Everyone's under pressure. That's not an excuse to treat people like they're disposable."

His hand reaches for your arm. "I didn't mean—" You pull back so fast he freezes mid-reach.

"Don't."

"I'm trying to."

"It's fine." Your voice is ice. "We're fine. It's done."

He blinks, confused. "What?"

"You apologized. I heard you. Now leave."

He nods slowly, turns, and walks out. The door clicks shut behind him.You stand there, alone in the training room, hands shaking. Your lungs feel small, like the ice pack you were just holding froze them.

You press your palms flat against the table, trying to ground yourself, but your hands won't stop shaking. He didn't apologize for ghosting you, he apologized for making himself uncomfortable. Your breath comes out shaky. You straighten up, wipe your palms on your shorts then your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

yeosang: i really am sorry

You stare at the text for a long moment then you delete it without responding.

You grab your bag, turn off the lights, and walk to your car. Your hands are still shaking when you grip the steering wheel.

He thought sorry would be enough.

Days pass. You don't text him. He doesn't text you. It feels like a real ending, the kind that sticks.

Then Thursday rolls around, and he's at practice like nothing happened. He's laughing with the guys, running drills, completely unbothered. He catches your eye during a water break. Holds it for a second longer than he should.

That's all it takes.

Later that night, your phone lights up, can we talk?

You know exactly what this is. You know you're going to say yes, and then you're going to let him back in, and then you're going to spend the next six months pretending this is what you want.

he moment you choose to repeat it all over again. Not because you believe him, not because you think it'll be different. But because the alternative, disappearing without him, becoming nothing again feels somehow worse.

You're complicit now. Spring semester is worse. You're exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally.

Yeosang is still hooking up with you, but he's also flirting with other girls on campus. You see him at parties, talking to sorority girls, touching their waists, and it doesn't even bother you as much as it should.

You're numb to it.

Seonghwa stops asking how you're doing because he already knows the answer. Your grades slip. Not enough to fail, but enough.

You stop going to office hours, stop applying to grad schools with the same focus. You're just going through the motions.

You're lying in bed after another hookup, and Yeosang's getting dressed to leave.

"You straight?" he asks, pulling his shirt on.

"Mhm."

He pauses, looking at you. "You sure?"

"Yup."

He nods, kisses your forehead, and leaves. And you lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering how you got here. Wondering when I stopped recognizing myself. Don’t we love college.

End of junior year comes, and you're burned out. Next year, he'll be a senior. A draft prospect. And you'll be traveling with the team, watching him, watching scouts take notes, watching him become everything he promised he'd be.

You'll realize that you were never actually part of the plan. You were just something to pass the time.

Senior year fall camp starts and you're dreading it.You show up early. Set up water stations, organize the medical kit, tape ankles for defenders even though you're not assigned to them anymore.

Scouts show up, men in polos and hey dudes standing, writing things down. Coaches hovering during drills, nodding to each other, talking in low voices. You're setting up coolers when one of the assistant coaches walks past and claps you on the shoulder.

"You're traveling this year, right?"

You blink. "What?"

"Away games. We've got you down for forwards staff. flights, hotels etcetera."

"Yeah. I—yeah, I'm traveling."

The first away game is a few states over. You board the plane in the afternoon, duffel bag with your name tag over your shoulder. The plane is small. You can hear coaches talking loudly, people saying bye to their loved ones over the phone. Yeosang's a few rows back, headphones in, staring out the window like he's the love interest in a rom-com.

This becomes the routine, though. Friday flights, hotel check-ins, pregame walk-throughs. Games under lights that feel more important than anything last season.

You do this every week. You know the flight attendants by name, know which hotels have the breakfast buffet with french toast, which stadiums have the worst visitor locker rooms that haven’t been cleaned, which cities you'll land in just long enough to sleep and leave.

Hate those ones the most. My life operates on their— no, his schedule now.

Classes become something you fit around travel, you do work on the plane, in the hotel lobby, wherever you can squeeze in the time. Your roommate stops asking where you're going because the answer is always the same.

—

It's a Saturday night in Missouri. The team won. Yeosang scored, and the locker room was chaos, music blasting, guys screaming, coaches grinning like they'd already won the big one.

Your phone buzzes while you're packing up the medical kit.

yeosang: 615

Don't go. You know how this ends.

He opens the door shirtless, hair still damp from the shower. Doesn't say anything and just pulls you inside and kisses you with so much urgency.

You're gasping into his mouth, trying to keep up, trying not to think about how this feels different.

Feels like he needs you.

He walks you backward to the bed, and you fall together. He's kissing your neck, your collarbone, whispering things he’s probably said to so many others.

"Missed you," he says against your skin. "Fuck, I missed you."

You ghosted me for months.

You don't say it, just pull him closer. After, you're lying in his arms, your head on his chest. "I don't know how to do this without you," he says suddenly. You freeze.

"What?"

"This. All of it." He exhales, and it sounds shaky. "The pressure, the scouts, the—everything. I don't know how to do it without you."

You just press your face into his chest and pretend you didn't hear the crack in his voice.

Morning comes too fast. You wake up to him already dressed, tying his shoes, checking his phone. He glances at you, and his expression is unreadable.

"You should probably head out before everyone's up," he says.

Not good morning, not about last night. Just you should leave. You nod and grab your clothes. He doesn't stop you, doesn't kiss you goodbye.You walk back to your room alone..

Two weeks later, you're on a flight to another away game. You're sitting near the back, reviewing notes, when Yeosang slides into the seat next to you.

He leans in, voice low. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"Just—come on."

He stands, and you follow him to the back of the plane, past the bathroom, into a tiny storage area. He pounces on you immediately.

He presses you against the wall. You gasp, and he swallows the sound whole, kissing you, "Yeosang—"

"Shh."

His hands slide under your shirt, and you're losing it, losing track of where you are, what you're doing, why this is a terrible idea.

Footsteps, youou both freeze. Someone walks past, humming, and you hold your breath. Yeosang's hand is still under your shirt, his forehead pressed to yours, both of you shaking. The footsteps fade. He exhales, pulls back, and grins. "That was close."

You stare at him. "Are you insane?"

He kisses you again, softer this time, and then he's gone, slipping back to his seat like nothing happened. You stand there, hands trembling, wondering what the hell you're doing, as always. 

Until you meet the most wonderful person, feeling the gaping hole Kallan left. Her name is Nona, and she's a sorority girl with a perfect smile and zero tolerance for dumbshit. She's the new hire, assigned to work with the forwards, and within a week, you're inseparable.

You're sitting in the training room one afternoon, and she's organizing tape while you ice someone's ankle.

"So," she says casually. "You and Yeosang." You nearly drop the ice pack.

"What?"

"Come on." She doesn't even look up. "Everyone knows."

"I'm not judging." She glances at you, and her expression is kind. "But he's not going to commit, you know that right?"

"What?"

"He's a draft prospect. His whole life is about to change. And you're—" She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "You're here. And he's leaving."

November comes, and he stops hiding it. He sits with you on the sidelines during warm-ups. Touches your back when he passes, finds your eyes across the field and smiles.

After a big win, he kisses you in the parking lot, in front of half the team.

You freeze, but he doesn't care. Just grins and walks away, leaving you standing there, heart racing, wondering what just happened.

The next day at practice, he barely looks at you.

I’m tired.

He'll hold your hand in the hotel lobby, then ignore you on the plane. Kiss you after a game, then act like you don't exist the next morning.

Nona notices. "You don't have to do this to yourself."

You don't answer. Because what would you even say?

—

It's late March when you find out.

You're in the training room when your phone lights up with notifications. Instagram, Twitter, the team group chat you muted months ago.

Congratulations to Kang Yeosang on being selected in the MLS Draft!

There's a photoof him in a suit, shaking hands with someone, holding up a jersey with his name on it. He's smiling wider than you've ever seen.

He didn't tell you, he’s just announcing even when draft picks happen the beginning of the year. You scroll through the comments. Teammates congratulating him, his family. Random people you don't know.

Then you see it, a comment from a girl you don't recognize. so proud of you babe <3

You set your phone down carefully, like it might explode. Your hands are shaking.He didn't tell me. You weren't part of this, you were never going to be part of this.

He got everything he wanted, the draft, the future, the girl who gets to comment babe on his posts, and you were just…here. Filling water bottles. Icing ankles, waiting.

You don't cry, you're too numb for it. He didn't choose you and he was never was going to.The rest of senior year happens in a blur. You show up to practice because you have to.

Yeosang leaves campus two weeks after the announcement. There's a team send-off dinner you don't attend. Seonghwa texts asking if you're okay. You say yes.

You see Yeosang one last time in the parking lot. He's loading boxes into his car, and you're walking to yours. He sees you, lifts his hand in a wave.

You wave back. That's it, no conversation. Goodbye, I guess.

You stop going to team events. Stop checking his Instagram, delete old texts without reading them. Your grades don't suffer because you throw yourself into studying. Anatomy, kinesiology, rehab protocols. If you're busy enough, you don't have to think.

Seonghwa brings you everything during finals week. Sits with you in the library without asking questions. Just exists next to you while you highlight textbooks and pretend you're fine.

"You're gonna be okay," he says one night.

Graduation creeps closer. You count down the days like a kindergartner waiting for summer break. April. May. The last game of the season, the last practice. The last time you have to walk into that training room and pretend none of it happened.

Then it's over, thank goodness.

Graduation happens on a Saturday in May. You walk across the stage, shake hands with people whose names you don't remember, smile for photos your mom takes.

Yeosang's not there, he's already gone, already started his new life in a city far away, with new and different people.

You don't cry at graduation, you don't feel much of anything. Few months later, you're in a new apartment in a new city with a new job at a different university. Different team, same smell of icey hot under your nails.

Late one night, when you can't sleep, you finally let yourself think about it.

About all of it.

—

dear diary, it's late and i can't sleep.

but that's my college experience ig. i became his water girl. the girl who existed for him, around him, because of him & i chose it every single time.

he ghosted me. kallan (she dropped out without a word btw) was right to call me pathetic. seonghwa warned me. i didn't listen. i'm older now and i still don't know how to want something without being terrified of it. i still build walls so high nobody gets in.

i don't want to be anyone's water girl anymore. not his, not anyone's.

i just want to be mine.

You were lounging in the living room of the AirBNB, feeling bittersweet about this being the last full day of the trip. Tomorrow you would return back home from school break and go back to classes. Back to reality. The entire trip had been one of unexpected pure sexual bliss. You had learned so much and had come out a completely new person. Not only did you have new skills but, a new appreciation for sex in general. Not having known anything about it before coming here, you were leaving with a real love for your own body and what you and others could do with and for it.

You also had grown fond of all 8 boys. Each of them had treated you so tenderly and made you feel so safe during the whole process. You didn’t know what it would be like or how they would be once you went back to reality, back to the real world. Would they still treat you normally? Would they pretend as if they didn’t know you well anymore? So much had changed for them as well. Life as you know it would be different and that scared you. So, you tried to cling on to every remaining second you had left in this house before you had to pack up and leave.

“Hey pretty.” Yunho found you spacing out while watching a show you had seen far too many times to count. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him. “I’m just trying to make the best of the last day, you know.”

“I don’t think sitting here watching tv and pouting is the best you can do.” He chuckled, sitting next to you and pulling you next to him which made you squeak.

“Okay. I admit, I’m a bit sad.” You shrugged. “I don’t want to leave yet. Go back to school. I had way too much fun here.”

“I think we all did.” Yunho smirked but his eyes stayed friendly. “You learned a lot during this trip, huh? Do you feel you’re a pro now?”

“A pro? No. I wouldn’t say that. I haven’t had that much practice.” You giggle. “But I’ve had some good teachers.”

“I’m glad we were able to teach you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And, you know, you can always ask for a refresh lesson once we get back. You know where my room is.”

“Really? So, this isn’t just a one time thing?” You ask him, a bit surprised.

“Did you really think that?” He almost looked insulted.

“Well, kinda. I thought this was all just.. a little fling. A one time thing. You all said we could pretend like this never happened when we got back so, I assumed when we got home tomorrow, that’s what would happen. We just wouldn’t speak of it again.” You explained, your voice falling quiet near the end.

“I see. I guess we did say that.” Yunho mumbled but looked at you curiously. “But, you don’t want that do you?”

You sat there silently for a moment and eventually shook your head ‘no’, not able to utter the word out loud.

“I don’t want that either.” Yunho admitted.

“Really?” You couldn’t help but smile, a warmth spreading through your chest at his confession.

“Really. I’ll be available to you anytime, beautiful. In fact-“ Yunho suddenly reached over and pulled you over his lap to straddle him. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and nestled down onto him.

“I never really got to have you. Not like some of the others. I got to finger you which was quite the privilege but-“ he got closer to you, his lips brushing against yours. “-what I wouldn’t give to fuck you.”

“Then do it.” You told him, grinding down onto his growing erection through his pants.

“Right here?” He asked you and you nodded. “How brave you’ve become.”

Yunho kissed you fiercely and lifted you to lay you flat on the couch. He nestled between your thighs and rutted his erection into your core, his hard tip hitting you just in the right spot that had you moaning into his mouth. His hand pushed its way under your shirt and bra, grabbing your breast and giving it a squeeze. The soft skin feeling like silk against his calloused hands.

His mouth moved from yours to your jaw, past your throat, and down your collarbone. Using his hands he swiftly removed your shirt and bra. His lips traveling down further to pepper kisses down your chest until his lips made it far enough to wrap around one of your hard nipples. He sucked on the sensitive nub, his tongue flicking over it rapidly while his other hand pinched and played with the other.

On the other side of the room, Seonghwa stood watching as he leaned up against the wall. You didn’t notice at first as you were too caught up with what Yunho was doing to you. But, once you did, you tried pushing his head away.

“Yunho! Stop!” You whispered harshly, making him turn his head and look over. However, Yunho just smirked at Seonghwa who did the same back. You were confused, wondering why he was not embarrassed.

“What, pretty? You don’t want him to watch me make you feel good?” Yunho cooed at you with a fake pout. “Am I not doing a good job?”

“What? Oh-“ Things were finally starting to click. He was into this.

Yunho dipped his head down but this time traveling down your waist, navel, and to your waistband. He wrapped his hands in the waistband of your pants and tugged them town, taking them off and leaving you naked on the couch.

“So fucking pretty.” He told you. “Isn’t she, Seonghwa?”

“She really is.” Seonghwa said, slowly walking over to you both. Your heart started to beat a bit faster. “She tastes amazing too. I would know.”

“So I’ve heard.” He said, biting his lower lip. “I think I’ll have a taste.”

Yunho used his hands to gently spread your legs apart, your wet core spreading open like a flower for him. He groaned in delight at the sight. He dipped his head down without any hesitation, his heavy tongue hitting your clit with direct precision. He wasted no time lapping at the swollen bud, making you moan out loud in the open living room.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Seonghwa asked you, palming himself over his jeans. He was hard. Rock hard. “Is he making you feel good.”

“Yes.” You moaned, yes fluttering as Yunho wrapped his lips around your clit. “So good.”

“Good.” Seonghwa started to unzip his pants, releasing his throbbing cock and started to jerk himself off. “You deserve to feel good, baby.”

Without giving it much thought you reached out in Seonghwa’s direction, asking permission to touch. He stepped forward immediately and let you take his shaft in your palm. You jerked him off the best you could while trying to keep a steady pace. Yunho was still lapping at your pussy with his expert mouth. He was moaning into it now, vibrating your sensitive nerves with each lick and suck of his lips. Your hips bucked, pushing your pussy harder into his face as he licked your cunt.

Suddenely, you felt Yunho’s finger teasing your entrance. He had slithered his hand up between your thighs and pushed his fingertip against you. With slight pressure, he pushed his finger up inside of you with ease. His long digit curling up inside of you at the perfect angle that had you gasping with every push and pull.

“Fuck Yunho, you’re eating her pussy so good.” Seonghwa told him, his voice a soft moan. He rocked his hips into your hand as you were now frozen from the pleasure Yunho was giving you. “I think she’s about to cum.”

You felt as if your brain wasn’t working right. Your hips were on autopilot as they rocked back and forth across Yunho’s face, his tongue pushed out against your clit as you rode it. You whined absentmindedly from the pleasure, completely lost from it. You felt your climax building fast, ready to hit at any moment and both of them knew.

“Come on baby. You’re almost there.” Seonghwa cooed at you. “Cum on his tongue like a good girl for me.”

After a few more licks, you came dramatically. Loudly. Your legs wrapping around his head like a vice grip which he graciously put up with until you gradually came down from you high. When he finally was free from your clutches, he came up for air gasping, his hair a mess on the top of his head.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You apologized, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t apologize. That was so fucking hot.” Another voice said from the other side of the room. Wooyoung and Mingi were standing at the entrance of the living room now, pants tight with erections. You felt your whole body get hot in a bit of embarrassment but also.. excitement?

“So were you not going to invite us to the party?” Mingi asked the room with fake disappointment.

“We’re just getting started.” Seonghwa said, his voice full of a darkness that admittedly excited you.

“I like the sound of that.” Wooyoung said. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi.” You said, your voice shy.

“Cute.” Mingi chuckled. “She’s been with all of us but she’s still shy.”

“That’s part of her charm.” Seonghwa said, sitting down by you. He took your cheek and pressed a kiss to your lips. It was soft at first but it deepened quickly. His hand rested on your knee but made its way up your thigh, parting it and finding your soaked and sensitive core. Once his fingers touched your swollen clit, you gasped into his mouth.

“Shit.” Wooyoung hissed, palming himself over his pants as he watched Seonghwa softly rub small circles over your clit. Mingi took a different route, sitting on the other side of you and placing his hand on your other thigh. His fingers drawing patters on your soft skin, his fingers going higher and higher on your inner thigh until you opened them up more and more, giving all of them a better view. You were spread wide for all of them now, your soaked pussy glistening and wet as Seonghwa rubbed your clit. Small whimpers left your lips and bled into your kisses with Seonghwa with every stroke of his fingers. Wooyoung and Yunho broke, taking out their cocks and jerking off to the view.

“Can I put my fingers inside of you, pretty girl?” Mingi whispered into your ear as his fingers kept climbing up your thigh. You broke your kiss with Seonghwa and looked over at Mingi with pleading eyes, frantically nodding your head and planting a kiss on his lips now. While he kissed you, you felt two of his long fingers slowly slip into your aching cunt. You moaned loudly into his mouth as you felt his fingers curve up into you, Seonghwa’s fingers still rubbing your clit as he sat on your opposite side.

Mingi started to drag his digits inside and out, his pace steady and precise, picking up over time. His fingertips started to rub right over your g-spot which made everything so much more intense, a familiar feeling rushing towards you. You pulled away from his mouth quickly.

“Fuck! I’m- I’m gonna cum!” You warned them, but they only quickened their speed. They wanted you to cum, and cum hard.

“Come on baby. Be a good girl.” Mingi told you in your ear. “Cum all over our fingers.”

You screamed, your orgasm gushing out of you and onto the floor. The boys didn’t let up. Mingi continued to push his fingers in and out of you, making sure to pull every gush of your orgasm out of you he could to the delight of the others who moved close in hopes to catch the droplets on their skin.

“Okay, let’s give her a break.” Hongjoong’s voice suddenly rang through the fuzziness. “I have some water baby.”

Hongjoong grabbed your chin and lifted the bottle to your lips, helping you sip down the liquid. As your heartbeat started to come down and your head stopped spinning, you were able to focus more on your surroundings. The people in the room had suddenly doubled and you realized that everyone in the house was in the room. Hongjoong, San, Yeosang, and Jongho had come to see what all the noise was about.

“All better now?” Hongjoong asked you after you finished your water.

“Um, yes.” You answered quietly.

“Good.” He said. “Now. What exactly is going on and why weren’t we invited?”

“Don’t take it personal guys.” Wooyoung said, dick still in his hand. “Just a little impromptu group session going on here.”

“Really? Well, I guess that really wasn’t on the lesson plan so, we’ll let it slide.” Hongjoong smirked. “I’m just glad we caught you just as it was getting good.”

“I see you brought a part favor Yeosang.” Mingi clapped his hands together once in excitement. You craned your head around and your eyes settled on the wand vibrator that his fist was wrapped around, ready to go. Your stomach twisted in a knot of anxious anticipation.

“Hold on guys, let’s check in first before we just jump into this.” San walked over to you and crouched down, lifting your chin up so you’d look at him. “How are you feeling baby?”

“I’m okay. I’m just.. a bit overwhelmed I guess.”

“Guys we need to give her some room.” Jongho ordered the others, using his hands to push them back a bit out of the way. You turned your attention back to San.

“That’s okay. We didn’t expect this to happen either, really.” San smiled kindly at you. “You are a lot braver than you were when you were first with us in this living room talking to us about your lack of experience.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “I guess I am.”

“We just want to have some fun. It’s our last night here with you and I think the best way for us to celebrate is by spending it doing what we’ve been doing for the last few days. If that’s okay with you?” He said softly again, his hand gently rubbing your cheek to soothe your worries. “We’ll stop whenever you want us to. And we’ll be gentle.”

“Unless you don’t want us to be.” Wooyoung stated in the back which had his receiving an elbow in the ribs from Hongjoong.

“But how.. how would I sleep with all of you at once?”

“Don’t worry, pretty. We’ll guide you through it. Haven’t we done such a good job showing you everything else?” San smiled his dazzling smile. “You trust us right?”

“Yes. I trust you all.” You told them. “I’ll try it.”

“Good. Now, why don’t we start, hmm?” He reached out for you, helping you sit up better on the couch. “Boys? Who wants to take the lead?”

“You guys got the most of her.” Mingi said, walking forward. “This is my first time getting a real taste. Baby, can you bend over for me?”

You complied and turned around quickly on all fours, ass in the air. Mingi grabbed your ass and gave it one firm smack that made you yelp out in shock but not in pain, his hand massaging the area to soothe where he had just giving you the blow. As he kept one hand on your cheek, the other hand dragged its fingers down between your thighs and to your soaking wet cunt. When you felt his long fingers once again touching your heat, you let out a pathetic moan in desperation and pushed yourself back onto his hand.

“Look at her, already ready for him.” Yeosang mumbled, watching as you slid yourself back onto his fingers. He pushed and pulled his digits inside and out until he felt you were ready then nestled up behind you, taking out his hard cock and lining it up with your entrance. He pushed his tip against your hole and pressed forward but it was still a bit too tight against his size.

“Mingi..” you whimpered, the noise making the room go feral. The other guys had started taking off their clothes as they watched the scene unfold in front of them, their hard cocks twitching in their palms as they slowly jerked themselves off. Mingi was still trying to push himself inside of you, taking time to rub his dick between your swollen lips and against your slit to try and get you ready enough to take him.

“I think she needs some help, guys.” Mingi said, his voice a bit strained from his own pleasure.

Jongho stepped forward and placed a knee down on the couch next to your head and used his hand to lift your head upward. His cock was right next to your face, his tip dripping in precum from watching Mingi struggle to fit his giant cock into your pussy. He used his thumb to stroke your cheek and looked down at you with a fondness that seemed almost confusing for the erotic nature of the scene.

“Suck my cock. See if that will help you take him.” Jongho told you. You opened your mouth and took him inside, swirling your tongue around his purple tip once before dipping your head down to take his entire length into your throat down to his base.

“Shit-“ Jongho cursed under his breath which got murmurs of approval from the others, some of them getting more comfortable with each other out of your view. Hongjoong and Seonghwa pressing up against each other, rutting their erection together while they teased each other with their tongues. Wooyoung and Yeosang followed their lead, getting familiar with each other as well by taking each others cocks in their hands and pumping each others members slowly as they watched you take two cocks yourself.

The longer you savored Jongho’s cock the wetter you got. Finally, with one firm push of Mingi’s hips, he was finally able to slide himself inside of you. You groaned deeply around Jongho as Mingi settled deep inside of you, his hips pressing against your ass. Your head stopping its movements briefly as you adjusted to the stretch and sensation of being penetrated from both sides.

“Fuck you’re still so tight.” Mingi cursed, pulling himself out of you slowly only to slam back into you with an intensity that had you falling onto Jongho’s cock, gagging you slightly. He continued this over and over, using his hands to spread your ass to get a better look at where your two bodies connected to watch how you gripped him. A ring of white cream collecting around his cock that collected more and more each time he thrusted inside.

You were a moaning mess, completely unable to focus on what you were doing with your mouth. You were trying your best to continue to suck off Jongho but, Mingi was so distracting. Too overpowering. Jongho had taken matters into his own hands, literally, taking your face gently in his hands and started to thrust into your throat.

Being fucked at both ends was something you would have never thought of being a possibility. But, experience it here in this moment, you couldn’t believe you had been shielded from this pure level of pleasure. It made you feel hot in all the best ways and, with how Mingi was stroking into you, it would only be a matter of time before you would cum again in this new way.

“Fuck, her thighs are shaking. I think she’s about to fucking cum.” San practically whimpered as he watched you, warning Mingi since he knew your body well. As well as any of them.

“Yeah? Are you about to cum baby?” Mingi cooed at you, deepening his voice and quickening his thrusts. “Somebody come rub her clit.”

Yunho stepped up and pushed his hand under your body and between your thighs, finding your swollen clit. You tried to scream but couldn’t, choking on Jongho who was close to cumming himself as he buried himself in the back of your throat. Yunho’s fingers rubbed quick circles around your bud, his fingertips brushing against Mingi’s cock as he fucked you ruthlessly.

“Fuck- I feel her tightening up.” Mingi said, his voice straining as he fought to not spill inside of you just yet.

“Come on pretty, give it up for us.” Yunho said, pushing down harder on your clit and rubbing side to side. “Fucking cum on his cock like a good fucking girl.”

You came in an obscene fashion, gushing all over the couch and floor while your body convulsed. Mingi held up your body to prevent you from collapsing while Jongho was not as strong, cumming deep in your throat from watching you squirt over Mingi’s cock. Thankfully you were coherent enough to swallow the salty load with only a tiny bit of struggle.

“Fuck- oh my god.” Jongho gasped, pulling out of your throat and allowing you to take your first full gasp of air. “Who the fuck taught her how to do that again?”

“She’s a natural.” Hongjoong said, walking over and placing a hard kiss to your quivering lips. He could still taste the saltiness of Jongho on your mouth. “I want her next.”

He laid you down and climbed on top of you, nestling himself between your thighs. He slipped into you with no problem after Mingi had stretched you with his girth. Still, you were just as sensitive from being filled by his cock regardless.

“Fuck!” You cried out. “Please be gentle.”

“I’ll take good care of you love, don’t worry.” Hongjoong whispered in your ear, rocking himself in and out of your sensitive cunt. While fucking you, he peppered kissed on your neck with small nips at your skin here and there. You turned your head to the side to savor the feeling and caught a glimpse of Wooyoung and Yeosang touching each other. The vision made you gasp but, not in disgust. Down below, you started to throb around Hongjoong’s cock intensely. He paused to take a look at what you saw and chuckled at the discovery.

“Do you like what you see?” He whispered to you. “Two pretty boys playing with each other?”

You nodded, your eyes glued to the two of them as they continued to play and kiss each other.

“You’re full of surprises still.” Hongjoong mumbled, still rutted deep inside of you. “Wooyoung. Yeosang. She really likes what you’re doing. I can feel her squeezing my cock watching you.”

“Really?” Wooyoung smirked, pulling away from Yeosang’s lips. “Then let’s give her a show.”

Wooyoung dropped down to his knees in front of Yeosang who very eagerly lined up his cock with Wooyoung’s awaiting mouth. Wooyoung took his pretty plump lips and kissed the tip of Yeosang’s swollen tip, smearing his clear precum on them like gloss, before slowly taking him inch by inch into his throat down to his base. Yeosang groaned, grabbing Wooyoung by the back of his head and pushing his hips into his face over and over. Wooyoung’s soft gags had your eyes fluttering along with the butterflies in your stomach. You had never seen anything so filthy. So intimate. You continued to watch him fuck Wooyoung’s throat as Hongjoong started to brutally fuck into your pussy, his cock hitting your g-spot just right.

“God, listen to her fucking whine.” San said, walking forward to jerk himself off right over you.

“It has to be from watching them.” Jongho said, referring to Wooyoung and Yeosang. “Two boys. Who knew?”

“Then I have the perfect idea.” Seonghwa said, coming over to the couch and getting behind Hongjoong. You pulled your eyes away from the boys just for a moment, to see what he was up to. He whispered something in Hongjoong’s ear, saying something you were unable to hear but; Hongjoong nodded and smirked.

Settling behind Hongjoong, Seonghwa spit on his hand and put his hand between Hongjoong’s cheeks. When Hongjoong pulled out of you on one of his thrusts, Seonghwa’s lubed up fingers slipped inside of his puckered hole, making him whimper in your ear. The sound was enough to almost make you cum.

Seonghwa fingered Hongjoong as he was fucking you. Each time Hongjoong pulled out of you, he pushed down and onto Seonghwa’s waiting fingers. His whimpers sending a shockwave of overwhelming erotic euphoria to your core. Seonghwa’s fingers hitting his prostate every time he pulled out of you, and every thrust into you was a direct rub against your g-spot.

“Fuck-“ you whimper, feeling another orgasm approaching quickly. You turned back to watch Yeosang and Wooyoung and found Yeosang flushed, mouth agape and panting. Wooyoung had his cock in his hand pleasuring himself wile Yeosang was seconds away from spilling himself into Wooyoung’s mouth. The anticipation began to build, Hongjoong’s moans in your ear making everything even hotter.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum-“ Yeosang warned him, holding his head to push him away but Wooyoung doubled down. You felt your core tighten as Hongjoong’s cock slipped in and out as you watched and you began to whimper uncontrollably, your pussy tightening around his cock. Then, quickly after, Yeosang emptied his cum into Wooyoung’s mouth. His hips stuttering as he emptied every last drop onto his tongue, grunting as Wooyoung sucked down every last drop.

The scene sent you flying, your orgasm hitting you hard. Your walls collapsing around Hongjoong’s cock, creaming around him. Your cunt practically choking him, milking him, and making him cum as Seonghwa fingered his prostate while he whimpered almost pathetically in your ear. It was an orgasm even he was shocked by.

He pulled out of you, his cock dripping all his cum into your cunt. The boys craned their heads to get a glimpse of the view and practically licked their lips as they saw the white cum leak from your entrance and onto the couch.

“Fuck, you look divine.” San drooled. “Let’s see how much more you can fit in there.”

“Wait, Sannie- ahh!” You cried out as he pushed himself into you, Hongjoong’s cum pushing deep inside of you and squishing out around San’s cock.

“Remember your safe words baby.” He reminded you, then pushed your thighs back to your chest to rock into you. Your cunt was so sensitive you felt almost like it was not part of your body. Wooyoung came over and sat beside you, reaching out to rub his hand across your chest, his fingertips finding the hard peaks of your nipples and giving them gentle tugs over and over.

“I think it’s time.” Yeosang said, walking over with his wand he had brought and pushing it between you and San. He nestled it up against your red, swollen, clit which made you throw your head back and thrash around. Yeosang smirked, knowing what was to come, and clicked the first speed on the vibrator. Your cheeks and lips started to tremble and your mouth fell agape when you felt the toy come to life, the shaking vibration spreading all the way down through your core to San’s thick cock as he fucked you.

“Fuuuck. That’s it baby.” He groaned, feeling you tighten against around him. “Yeo, turn it up.”

Yeosang turned up the speed which had your back arching off the back of the couch. Wooyoung was still playing with your nipples, enticed with the view in front of him. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your moans in his mouth to his delight.

“Fuck, look at her.” Mingi mumbled to the others.

“He’s fucking the cum straight into her. That’s so fucking hot.” Seonghwa groaned.

“She loves her nipples being played with. Look how she squirms? Go suck on her other nipple Yunho.” Jongho said, urging Yunho to sit on the other side which he quickly did.

With San fucking you from the front, Wooyoung on one side, Yunho on the other playing with your tits, and Yeosang above you with his magic wand, you were completely overcome with pleasure while the others watched.

At some point, and you don’t know when, you lost yourself in the pleasure. Time beginning to fade and your mind seemingly disconnecting from your body. Your moans turned into mindless babbles and the wet sounds coming from your core almost became embarrassing sopping, your arousal dripping down San’s shaft and balls. Your thighs started to shake and your walls were practically choking his cock, letting him know you were close.

“She’s gonna cum, I can feel it.” He grunted, his hips fucking into you even harder.

“Are you gonna cum again for us?” Wooyoung asked you, his fingers still brushing over your sensitive nipple. But words failed you, your mouth opening but only silent gasps coming out. “Hmm?”

“Fuck, she can’t even speak.” Hongjoong said in elated delight as he watched.

“Come on baby.” Yeosang told you, hitting speed the button one more time. “Cum.”

You came violently, screaming as you gushed onto San and those close by. Your walls pulling his orgasm out of him prematurely from how hard you clamped down around him, milking his white ropes from him with a shutter.

“Holy shit-!” He yelled as he was soaked, his orgasm hitting him hard.

“Fuck, look at that!” You don’t know who even said it, you didn’t care. Your brain was off. Disconnected.

“I have to make her do that.” Another voice said and suddenly, another cock was inside of you, thrusting in and out. It was Wooyoung and, with Yeosang still holding the vibrator on your clit, it only took a few thrusts of his cock to make you squirt again. The sight making Wooyoung release his load inside of you, just like Hongjoong and San had.

One by one, each boy took their turn. Jongho was next. Then Yunho. Seonghwa. Mingi. And finally, Yeosang. When they were all done, you had cum dripping all over your thighs and cunt. Droplits of your squirt were spattered all over the living room and your face was completely flushed. Burning. You felt exhausted but also complete bliss. Every nerve-ending in your body felt alive, reborn. You were not leaving this place the same person you had come in. Especially not now. Not after this.

Seonghwa had one last craving for you. Leaning down next to you over the couch and extending his tongue over your clit to lap at your swollen bud. You cried out when the tip of it hardly touched you, wanting to run. But his hands held you hostage. Wooyoung joined him, kneeling in front of you and placing his tongue right next to his, lapping away the drops of cum from the others that dripped from your cunt. Both of their tongues intertwining over your clit periodically as if they were French kissing. It was far too erotic. Too sensual. Having these two pretty boys lick the cum off your overly sensitive cunt was far beyond anything your once innocent mind could comprehend.

Your body gave you one more orgasm, your clit cumming on both of their tongues as they kissed your cunt. But quickly, you felt yourself begin to lose consciousness. Seonghwa quickly caught on as your legs fell slack around his neck, making him pull away from you and grab your face in his hands.

“Hey. Hey, are you okay?” Seonghwa asked you, stroking your face with the back of his hand. You felt dizzy, head fuzzy, and you didn’t dare to sit up right now. “Can somebody go get her some water please? Maybe some Gatorade?”

“On it.” Yunho said, taking big steps to get to the kitchen faster.

“We may have overdone it.” Hongjoong said, a bit worried. “Put the throw pillow under her head.”

The boys all rushed to take care of you, helping you take sips of the drinks they brought and getting you propped up on the couch and covered up with a blanket. Finally, after a few minutes and a bottle and a half of water later, your brain finally began to make sense of the world again.

“So.. that was intense.” You giggled.

“Oh thank god! I thought we broke her for good.” Wooyoung said dramatically, hands on each side of his head as if it was about to explode.

“I’m glad you’re still with us.” Jongho patting the top of your head.

“Yeah, for a moment you had us worried.” San smiled in relief.

“I’m okay. I promise.” You reassured them. “But, did I do okay? Like, did you guys enjoy it?”

“Yes.” They all said in unison which made you laugh from deep in your chest.

“I’m glad. I guess that’s means I passed my final exam?”

“With flying fucking colors.” Wooyoung told you confidently.

“I still can’t believe I did.. that.” You giggled, replaying some of the moments of the last hour in your mind.

“You really have come so far.” Yeosang said proudly.

“Really. I mean, you started this trip as a virgin and you finished with an orgy. That’s definitely impressive.” Mingi told you, reminding you once again that tomorrow was the end.

“So, that’s it then?” You said, feeling a bit sad. “We go back tomorrow and it’s all over?”

“Like I said before, you know where I live. You can come knock on my door any time you need some company. Any type you want.” Yunho said, winking at you.

“Same here.”

“Yes.”

“Me too.” All of them say a mix of agreement, leaving you open to the option to go and see any of them if you wanted, whenever you wanted.

“So, it doesn’t have to be over after today?” You smile at the realization, your heart fluttering.

“You’re stuck with us. Plus, all schools have class reunions right? Think of it like that. But.. with sex. Regularly.”

“Shut up Wooyoung.”

And so the bliss continued long after the trip, along with your sexual education.

———————- The End ——————-

bf!Jongho who - usually only uses one nickname with you, and it is not a generalised one everyone uses. it's special to both of you, has a story - probably originating from when you met.

bf!Jongho who - isn't afraid to give you his honest opinion. it gave you a few heated arguments in the early days when you first told him about the tension with your coworkers, and he told you that the other person wasn't the only one in the wrong - but you learned to appreciate it, because not many would do this.

bf!Jongho who - loves sending you snippets of his studio works. He is in there hooting and hollering overtime just so he has extra clips he can send you and bring a smile to your face.

bf!Jongho who - loves to surprise you with cooking for you on his free days. He usually never even tells you when he is free, for just one day, so he can see that gentle, loving shock on your face when you see him in the kitchen. long sleeves roll up on his forearms, glasses sliding down his nose.

bf!Jongho who - is a big cuddler. he would never admit it, but he loves being cuddled by you. especially when you cling to him koala style while watching a movie. but there was that certain week you had to leave town because of work, and suddenly your old plushie is out. right behind him in bed when he facetimes you at night. "baby, is that my bear behind you?" you asked, and he flushed from collarbones to the top of his head, stumbling over his words.

bf!Jongho who - lets you choose his outfits, because he knows you would never put him in an uncomfortable situation. he puts all of his trust in you and other than that, he loves the expressions you give while he does a twirl, because you know these jeans don't really fit with that particular belt.

bf!Jongho who - will never be one of those guys who hurry their girlfriends. he always sits calmly in that self-designated armchair beside your vanity and watches as you get ready with adoration written all over his face. when he is feeling curious, he might ask, "what does that do?" or "what is that for?" but he never asks stuff because he wants to fill the silence, but because he is genuinely intrigued.

bf!Jongho who - doesn't call or text, he just magically appears. did he finish earlier at recording that day? he sits in his car already on his way to pick you up, sometimes runs into the store before to have something for you to drink or snack on on the way home.

bf!Jongho who - is the boyfriend who always has his hand on your lower back. he is not fond of public display of affection, but a protective yet possessive hand on your lower back is always an exception.

bf!Jongho who - has to have a hand on you while sleeping too - but it's beyond the cute way. while awake, his hand always finds its way to your lower back - unconsciously, it doesn't exactly work like that. there have been nights when you woke up with his hand on your forehead, as if he was checking your body temperature, but when he is really out of it - exhausted from practice beyond repair - his hand slides down to your mouth and nose, making your simple task of breathing a little harder…

bf!Jongho who - silently admires you. when you're out with friends - whether it's with his band members or your friends - he is drinking every little reaction or word they get out of you. he has heart eyes, which his band members hardly tease him for (he wouldn't have it any other way).

bf!Jongho who - buys you random objects as souvenirs from every trip abroad. they might be a little bit all over the place, starting from books to weirdly shaped candles and even kettles, but he only buys them because he knows it will make you laugh. (man's ultimate goal is to have you as a giggly mess tbh.)

bf!Jongho who - is so good with kids it hurts. at every family gathering, you have to suffer through watching your boyfriend interact with his nieces. sometimes, when his hair is overgrown, they braid it - he likes whining about how much it hurts, but you see the way his eyes glint. he always holds your hand a little bit tighter on the way home.

bf!Jongho who - is the typical guy that, reverses with one hand on the wheel, the other on the back of your seat. he is perfectly aware of the effect it has on you - hence that smug smile on his lips

bf!Jongho who - loves when you give him stuff to open. especially those tightly closed pickle jars - that he might or might not have closed a little extra tight the last time he opened it, so you would come to him, with that little defeated pout on your lips.

bf!Jongho whose - favourite dates are the ones spent in cuddling, watching movies, and cooking together. especially the part when you forget about the movie and just get lost in each other's tangled breaths and tongues.

bf!Jongho who - just loves kissing you. he will be french kissing you for at least a solid half a minute, even if he is late to the schedule, or has the whole team watching - he doesn't care. he just needs to feel your plush lips on his, stealing the last breaths from his lungs before he performs.

bf!Jongho who - makes sure you always have a mark on you. he is considerate about the placement, but is usually more bold in cold weather because you can hide it better. may it be one hand print from how he held you, or a hickey, maybe even a bite mark.

bf!Jongho whose - hands always find their way to your waist whenever you're bent over furniture. may it be because of cleaning, searching for something, it doesn't matter. it's comical, actually. he always just appears behind you, hands already on you as his mouth kisses it's way up on your spine with low, gravelly words escaping from his mouth, until he gets you pliant and soft.

bf!Jongho who - showers you with praise in bed, "that's my girl." or "you're doing so good, baby." he is a talker, that's for sure.

bf!Jongho who - is also a little... mean. you didn't do as he asked? he isn't scared to put you in your place or even punish you. he loves bending you over his knees and seeing those red hand marks bloom on your buttocks. but even his strict side has a limit, so he always lulls you with praises, "just three more, love," with an occasional, "you're doing so well."

bf!Jongho who - is possessive by nature, can't help but feel the absence of that feeling when Yeosang is around. he loves watching over the two of you talk with wine glasses in hand as he busies himself in the kitchen. the thoughts aren't as innocent as they seem

bf!Jongho who - had to excuse himself out of the living room when certain thoughts got too lewd for guests. he would love to watch that soft hand Yeosang places on your knees when he agrees to something, slide a little higher. leave marks on your skin. put on a show with you, for him.

dad bod!seungcheol who just mere minutes later, is now a moaning mess as you suck him as if your life depends on it.

"fu-uck," he pants,  "slow down, babe." but the way he holds your head even tighter, says otherwise.

"can't!" you pant, taking him out of your mouth. "you get me all hot and bothered." he swears he could come right then and there and with that look in his eyes - he'd give you another child already.

"fuck me, baby." you moan, and he's trembling, barely holding onto the edge.

dad bod!seungcheol who grips your hips so hard, you're sure they're will be marks by the time you're done.

he wraps his arms around you, pushes you onto the wall and thrusts up into you - heavy balls smacking against your ass. the whines that comes out of your mouth is just pitiful.

he pinches your clit and your walls clench him tighter.

"fuck baby, you're so tight" he huffs. "you want to make me a dad again? huh?"

“cheol- slo- ugh. slow down” you pant as your legs shake every time his tip brushes your spot. the way his large, bulbous tip was brushing against your very inner walls had you dizzy. “-want more.”

"I'll give you exactly what you want, mama"

you moan so loud that the whole damn block might know exactly what he’s doing to you.

"not so loud, mama. baby'll wake up" seungcheol is grinning.

"mhmm, cheol." you breathe, gripping his biceps harder. "feels so good."

your fingers dig into his shoulders, velvet walls clenching around him as your body shook violently, thighs quaking as pleasure surged through your veins.

“fuck, cheol - ohh fuck ‘m gonna cum!” your legs feel like liquid - you are glad he's holding you - otherwise you'd be as good as putty.

“thaaat’s it, mama. come f’me.” he groaned, pushing in with a few more punishing thrusts before spilling inside your spasming cunt, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you to the brim.

he’s holding you flush against him, fingers pressing into your back, thumb tracing along your jaw. “god…you really are relentless,” he huffs, voice low, teasing but strained.

you grin, smirking up at him. “can you blame me?” his chest rises with a laugh. "hmm…nope,” he murmurs, lips grazing your temple. “not at all. and I think…I like it.” you trace over his shoulders, leaning closer, feeling the weight of him, the warmth, the lingering tension.

“good,” you whisper. “because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

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seonghwa:

- barely notices it

- probably daydreaming about something

- but when he notices there's no feeling in his hand he panics

- softly lifts your head to retrieve his arm

you stir, feeling the weight of your head being lifted. you blink your eyes open and turn to find him looking guilty. "i'm sorry honey, rest up," he lays back down and pulls you close, "go back to sleep."

yunho:

- bro is immediately panicking

- do i wake them? do i suffer?

- he chooses that he'd rather suffer than wake you up.

- constantly flexing his fingers to make sure his arm doesn't go too numb

you stretch out your limbs and flip over, eyes landing on a very awake boy. he shoots up immediately and grabs his arm, flexing it to wake it up. "i'm sorry baby, go back to sleep," he breathes quick, "i didn't want to wake you but i might need to go to the ER." you giggle and force him to lie back down, this time making sure he's comfortable before drifting back off to sleep.

yeosang:

- he's fast asleep

- he doesn't even notice it

- bro is so chill

you adjust your position and wake up to the feeling of muscle beneath your head. you look, panic and turn over. "baby, i'm so sorry!" he's blinking his eyes at you, confused why you woke him up. in his dreamy state he flips on his back and draws you into his chest, and mumbles, "5 more minutes."

san:

- he's so happy

- not even a crane could tear that boy away from you

- omg they chose ME? hell yeah

- kinda creepy cause he's just watching you

hongjoong is the one to find you both on the couch, whispering to san, "you want some help?" he moves towards you both. "don't you dare," he whispers with a growl, using his free hand to pull you closer to him. hongjoong backs up.

mingi:

- panicking

- bro is so stressed he's going to wake you

- barely breathing

- barely alive

"baby?" he whispers so low he can barely hear himself. "ok princess, sleep well." he tries to fall asleep after but can't due to his arm. but eventually you turn, still asleep and cuddle into him. he finally breathes and hugs you tight.

wooyoung:

- oh he's so smug

- thought about waking you up to tease you about it

- but saw how content and sleepy you were and held back

- watching you like the yearner he is

"youngie?" you croak, stirring from sleep and feeling his burning stare. "yes darling?" he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "stop staring." "never."

jongho:

- tries to act nonchalant

- you're probably around the other members too

- they're teasing him about it

- but heaven forbid you try and move

you stir after hearing another round of giggles pass by the couch. when you catch on to what they're laughing about, he stops you. he uses his free arm to hold you down. "baby-" "no," he sterns, "you're right where you belong." and although his eyebrows are furrowed together, the kiss to your forehead is soft.

taglist:

"Baby." Yunho covers his other ear with his free hand. "Where are you? The game is starting soon."

"We're parking now." He sighs in relief, nodding to himself as if you can see him. "Sorry, my love."

"That's okay, I just can tell she's looking for you."

"Aw." You respond, gathering your things as Sian shifts the gear to park and shuts off the car. "We'll be inside in a few, promise."

"Alright. We're on the right side, near the middle." 

"Okay. See you soon." And with that, the call ends. Sian and Noeul smile, grabbing their posters and little pompoms that they bought from the store. 

"You and Yunho are so cute. You can't even wait a few seconds before you see each other."

"In fairness, we're running a bit behind so he was getting worried." You add a little pep to your step, picking up the pace as you walk over to the gym. 

"Isn't there like, 5 minutes left before the game starts? He just wanted more time to see you and get his smooches in." Sian teases, making Noeul snort.

"Stop it." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you approach the gym doors, echoes of the loud crowd, dribbling and balls hitting the rims or backboards already ringing through the front walkway. It's crazy how even now, Yunho still manages to make you feel shy even with the smallest acts of affection— through check-in phone calls, through little gifts he leaves on your desks, cute texts in the morning. 

When you spot Yunho and the group sitting together on the bleachers, his eyes instantly meet yours and you're quick to wave. He smiles from ear to ear, waving you over. You, Sian and Noeul walk alongside of the court— careful not to interrupt practice occuring on the main floor. You catch a quick glimpse of Seora running through shooting exercises with her team as you work your way up the bleachers to meet her father.

"Hey baby."

"Hey." You greet Yunho, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Sorry, we wanted to get a few props on the way over. Plus, a little gift for Seora." You say as you slide onto the bleachers next to him, saying your hello's to Mingi and Seonghwa. You're glad Noeul and Sian agreed to join, hoping to cheer on Seora and give her extra support during her championship game. Your mother, your father and Wonwoo are on their way, safely rushing over so that they'll make it in time for tip off.

While you settle in with your man, Sian catches up with Mingi and notices how stiff Noeul is next to her. Seonghwa can't help but look over a few times— probably wondering why Noeul hasn't said much or seems to be avoiding him despite the small progress they've made to move forward after what's happened between them.

"Why don't you sit over there with Seonghwa?" Sian nudges Noeul. "He keeps looking over here and I know damn well he's not looking at me." Noeul almost lets out a pathetic scoff.

"I'm not gonna leave you."

"Please, I'll be good with Mingi, Y/N and Yunho. Just go." She encourages Noeul with another nudge. Noeul sighs, rolling her eyes— but she stands anyway, making her way over to the empty spot next to Seonghwa. She doesn't wanna keep having this weird, awkward tension with him. And quite frankly, he had been trying. He was putting in more effort to show her that he was serious about starting over— about trying to be her friend, about taking things slow, about seeing where things go. She was tired of harboring ill feelings towards him, especially if he was trying to prove otherwise. 

Though, she still had her guard up. Let's get that straight.

"Hey." She says, looking at him.

"Hey you." He smiles at her. "Glad you were able to make it to her game. I didn't think you and Sian were coming along."

"Yeah, we figured we'd come support. Why not? It'll be nice to see Seora kick ass on the court."

"Yeah, she's a beast on the court. Quite the show." Seonghwa chuckles. "Any other plans for today?"

"Not really. You?"

"There's this new exhibit at The Time Capsule. It's free admissions for a limited time period."

"Oh, I heard about it! I've been wanting to check it out, too." Noeul checks her phone. "Shoot, isn't free admissions about to end soon?"

"Tomorrow."

"Fuck." She mumbles to herself. "I'm busy tomorrow. Promised my parents I'd drive them around."

"Do you wanna check it out together after Seora's game?" Seonghwa looks at her. "No pressure at all, though. I'm sure they'll add more free admission dates randomly throughout the year while the exhibit is there, so you can always—"

"Yeah, I'm down." She cuts him off with a small smile. They agreed to take this slow and be friends, anyway. What does she have to lose? And when would she be able to see the exhibit otherwise? What if they don't add anymore free admission days while the exhibit is there?

"Really?" Seonghwa cocks a brow up, almost in disbelief that she agreed so easily. He wasn't used to it.

—FLASHBACK

Seonghwa and Yoori had just finished eating dinner at her place, and Seonghwa had been sitting on the couch flipping through the Netflix options trying to figure out what else they could watch tonight. He feels like they've gone through every possible option already, being that all they do is stay home and do .. this. Eat. Watch Netflix. Fuck. Cuddle. Sleep. He leaves. Repeat the next time he comes over.

Which, he loved in the beginning.

Now, though? The spark is gone. He wants something new and exciting. Something solid. Seonghwa is actually admitting he's tired of having something casual. It feels .. empty.

When he doesn't find anything to watch, he sighs. He looks over his shoulder to find Yoori still looking at something on her laptop with some papers next to her. Probably still glazing over some emails because she can never truly disconnect from work. She's sipping on a cup of tea, one that he made for her after dinner. It's chamomile with a dash of lemon and honey. He's got the measurements drilled in his mind like second nature because he does this for her so often.

Since, again, this is what they do. 

She'll be getting ready for bed in no time.

But, Seonghwa thinks the night is still young and there's actually a place he's been wanting to visit. He pulls up the post on his phone, approaching her at the kitchen island.

"Find something to watch?" She asks, eyes trained on the laptop still.

"No. I did find something else, though."

"Hm?" She hums.

"There's this new exhibit at The Time Capsule. It's free admissions for a limited time period, and I wanted to check it out with you if you were down." He says, showing her the post for the new exhibit at the nearby, modern city museum. He's seen footage of the exhibit and has taken interest in it. He [especially] doesn't wanna pass up the opportunity on free admissions, either. 

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"It's getting late." She looks at him, then out the window.

"It's barely 6:30pm. The museum closes at 10pm since it's also their 21+ event tonight."

"Mm. No, I'm not really in the mood to go."

"What, why? It's a free event. It'll be fun. Something different than us staying in like we normally do."

"Not really my thing?" She gives him a look, almost like she's disgusted. "Besides, isn't that what we initially agreed on? Just staying home and being peaceful behind closed doors."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't hurt to explore every now and then. Right?"

"Please, where is this even coming from?" She scoffs, making Seonghwa knit his brows.

"I thought you'd be excited to do something different for once, that's all."

"No, not really. I'm fine right here."

"You wouldn't wanna go anywhere? Do anything different from this?"

"What are you getting at, Seonghwa?" She sits the cup in her hand down before looking at him. "I'm confused as to why you're suddenly wanting different when the agreement was to take it slow and casual."

"And now things are changing for me." Seonghwa admits. "I'm tired of this routine, Yoori. I'm mainly tired of this routine, that's why."

"Well, I'm sorry, Seonghwa. I don't know what you want from me." She stands, crossing her arms at her chest, looking at him with full-on attitude. He hates the look she gives him sometimes. She can never step out of director mode, and it's something he's grown to despise. Work has become her life, and he doesn't think it's something he'll enjoy in the long run. 

Being put in the back seat for a job.

"I want you to be open to things like this. To step out of the house, even if it's to take a damn walk arond the neighborhood with me or to sit by the goddamn lake right around the corner from your place. I wanna go out on some nights to the club or a bar. Do something new like rollerblading no matter how stupid we'd look just to have fun. Go to the museum to analyze exhibits even if we won't remotely understand what the hell is going on. Shit like that! That's what I want." Yoori remains silent before sighing, setting her cup into the sink and shrugging.

"That's what you want and I don't have that."

"And that's the unfortunate part." He says lowly. "Maybe it was my fault for assuming we could try."

"Yeah. It was." He looks at her, brows knitted.

"Yeah." He stands, grabbing his jacket. "I think this is done, Yoori. It has been, don't you think?" She nods silently, looking at him with her head cocked to the side. As if he's some kind of chore now. A waste of time.

"I'm sorry."

"I am, too." 

—END

"Yeah, really."

"Alright then." Seonghwa returns the smile, feeling excited to finally be able to visit the exhibit with some good company. He's actually relieved at how easy that was— almost feeling like a breath of fresh air. No fuss, no fight, no explanation.He returns his attention to the court, reminding himself not to move too fast or set any expectations for this— he wanted to treat Noeul right as a friend, first and foremost. Lay the foundation properly and give himself time to heal. Fix his inner issues, work on himself before thinking about relationships and commitment.

He sees you and Yunho and realizes it's something he wants. Something he'd like to grow into and grow with, regardless of the time it takes him. It's a goal for him, and he'll work towards it. 

Sooner or later, the buzzer goes off, signaling the countdown to the last minute before the game officially starts. You link your arm with Yunho's, sliding your hand into his. You look up at him sweetly, letting him press another soft kiss to your forehead. You giggle, enjoying the moment as Seora listens to her coach run through the first play before the game begins. She briefly looks over, watching her father look down at you with all that love bursting from every bone in his body.

Watching her father smile down at you like you hold the sun, the moon, and the stars in your eyes. 

It gives her that warm feeling in her stomach— distracts her for a second, too much that she doesn't even realize she's smiling so big. 

"Hey." Chan-mi gently tugs on Seora's jersey, giggling near her ear. "Are you okay? Coach is running through the play. Did you hear anything?"

"Oh, yeah." Seora whispers back, smiling at her. 

"What were you looking at?"

"My dad and Y/N. They're being cute." Chan-mi looks over and giggles a bit more.

"So sweet."

"Alright, any questions? Concerns? We're okay to run this play, my starting five?" Coach looks at Seora, Chan-mi, and the rest of the starting five on their team with a smile. "We can do this. I believe in you girls. We've made it this far, and we can take it all the way to the championships." The buzzer goes off loudly, echoing in the gym. The crowd starts to cheer, getting both teams pumped up for the game and giving the girls the energy they need to get the game started on a good note. "Let's go, girls!" Coach yells loudly, clapping his hands— hyping the girls up as the starting five walks out onto the court to get into position. Seora steps into the middle, shaking hands with the jumper from the other team. 

Seora bends her knees slightly, adjusting her shorts up just enough.

"That's my girl." Yunho whispers, the crowd going silence to let the two focus at the center while the referee positions himself in between, ball in hand.

"Get 'em, ace." You whisper along, squeezing his hand.

Tip-off starts.

The jumper from the other team immediately jumps up with the ball and Seora knows that's not how you time your jumps.

And she's right.

Because the other jumper is about to hit the ground before the ball does.

She's got this in the bag. It's like second nature to her by now. 

Seora gives herself a few minutes, letting the ball linger in the air before she jumps to tip it over towards her team— giving them the head start to the game. You, Yunho, and the rest of your friends cheer loudly, giving them the energy to proceed down the court to execute their play and score their first basket. By this time, your mom, dad, and Wonwoo walk in, joining your group on the bleachers. 

"We made it just in time!" Your mom says, sitting on the bleachers in front of you. The rest of your friends greet your parents and your brother before returning their attention to the game ahead. It goes back and forth for awhile— both teams exchanging points, leaving the game to be a close one with one or the other only trailing by two or three points.

As they hit the second quarter, Seora's team falls behind. Yunho sighs, getting visibly nervous as he tries to cheer and reassure his daughter from the stands when she hops back into the game to relieve her teammates for the last few minutes.

At halftime, they're down by 6.

"Hey, ace. You're doing great, okay? Don't add to much pressure or work yourself too much. Just let the game unfold naturally." Yunho says as Seora briefly jogs over to grab some gatorade from him.

"Thanks, daddy." She waves at everyone else. "I'll try." He can tell Seora is feeling nervous and pressed— wanting to do her best to pull the team through for the last half.

"You can't carry the entire team on your back, babygirl."

"I know. But I can do my best to." She says, just before she jogs backward and shrugs. Yunho shakes his head and lets out a small scoff.

"She's just like you." You tap his knee.

"I don't know if that's a good or bad thing right now." He chuckles.

"She's got the grit and determination." You smile. "Don't worry. It'll be all good, love." 

Both you and Yunho watch as Seora quickly gulps her gatorade before rounding up with the team and coach, going over the play for the third quarter. Because they're down, coach knows they need to execute a whole new aggressive play to get the team back up. He scribbles on his clipboard, going over the new play and asking if the next five have any questions.

Then, the next quarter begins with the girls on edge. There's just so much anxiety and pressure to get the team back up instead of trailing behind even more. The third quarter starts off pretty slow, with both teams not able to make shots for a long while. Finally, Seora's team is able to pick up momentum again— getting their shots in properly. Yunho can tell Seora is starting to get too nervous with the way her leg is constantly bouncing at the bench. She continues to cheer on her team as they run up and down the court, doing their best to catch up. At one point, she looks over to the crowd, her eyes landing on you and her father. You give her a small smile, while Yunho mouths out some reassuring words:

It's alright, ace.

Relax.

You got this.

Don't let them get to you.

I love you.

She smiles, her heart relaxing—nerves calming just as the third quarter comes to an end. Her team is down by three. Close enough. If they keep it close and don't give the other team advantages, they can pull through and take the W. 

Seora hops onto her feet when coach tags her in, stretching her neck from side to side before she swipes at the bottom of her shoes— making sure they've still got good grip for the last quarter. She's got a good feeling, and she feels like she's got the energy to take her team all the way through to the finish line.

The quarter starts off tense, with Seora executing the plays effortlessly as usual. There's a few turnovers, but nothing her team can't bounce back from. It's a tight game, both teams exchanging points by making baskets every time the ball is in their court. 

And Seora is sick of the back and forth.

So, she takes matters in her own hands. Especially when time is ticking.

They don't have all the time in the world to be dancing around.

Seora calls out the play to her teammates once more, passing the ball to Chan-mi on the right. The other team begins playing hard defense, almost pushing Chan-mi to lose the ball. But, Seora dives in, taking the ball back to center to restart. She calls out another play just to throw the other team for a loop, her coach fully supportive of the last-minute change just to get a shot in before time runs out.

"Let's go, ace!" You and Yunho yell, standing for her as she takes her lead as point guard, running the full play with her teammates in order to take the shot at the right side of the court. The ball goes in, putting her team at a three point lead. The game continues to be incredibly close, but as long as their team continues to push the same momentum, you have no doubt they'll pull through.

Seora looks at you and Yunho, smiling from ear to ear as she makes the shot. You, Yunho and the rest of the group cheer loudly for her as she runs down the court to take on defense, giving her the boost of energy she needs to keep the energy going. 

"Run it back!" Yunho stands and yells when Seora's able to steal the ball from an opponent. "Run it back!" He repeats, his hands behind his head as he watches Seora drive the ball down the court for a layup— scoring another basket for the team and putting them up another 2 points.

"Yes, let's go!" You, your friends, and your family cheer loudly. "Good job, Seora!" Seora and her teammates high five each other before running back down the court, the clock ticking down with only three minutes left on the clock. Seora is on full defense mode, making sure the other team doesn't get a chance to score more baskets. It's probaby impossible to catch up by now, but still. 

Seora doesn't wanna let her guard down.

As the other team executes their play, they try to dribble past the defense Seora and her teammates are putting up. They pass the ball along between each other, the clock running out of time before they forfeit their chance with the ball. One of the girls finally takes a shot out of pressure, the ball barely hitting the rim and bouncing off. Chan-mi jumps for the rebound, passing the ball down to her teammate who is already on their side of court, near the basket— allowing them to shoot the ball from the right, outer three-point line.

She misses, but Seora is there to catch the rebound before anyone else can. She restarts, bringing the ball back to the top. She calls out the play and executes, the clock now ticking down with seconds left. The other team plays hard on defense, double-teaming any of Seora's teammates that has the ball. Chan-mi barely passes the ball over to Seora, and Seora immediately shoots the ball right before the timer runs out.

"Yes! Let's go!" You and Yunho yell loudly together as Seora makes the winning basket— bringing her team to the championships. Your entire group roars and stands up, cheering loudly as Seora, her team and her coach celebrate together on the court before congratulating the other team and shaking their hands. When families are able to greet their children on the court, Yunho runs straight to Seora— lifting her into the air and swinging her around in his arms. She squeals, holding onto him tightly until he puts her back down and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

"Congrats, Ace! You killed it out there!" 

"Thanks, daddy." She smiles before turning towards you. "Y/N!" She throws her arms around your torso. You hug her tightly and smile, giving her a good squeeze before letting go.

"Congrats, Seora! You were a beast." You say, handing her the small bag in your hand. "Got you a little something." She pulls back and gently takes the bag.

"Thank you. I'm glad you came. I was looking for you earlier and was worried you wouldn't come."

"Why wouldn't I come?" She chuckles and shrugs. "I'll always make it work."

"I wanna open this in the car, if that's okay."

"Of course." She looks up at you and smiles again.

"Thank you again. I really am happy you were here for my game." She looks at you, then at her faher. "I'm ready to go shopping, though." You and Yunho laugh.

"Alright, alright. Let's go hang out with your coach and team for a bit before we head home. Looks like he wants to have lunch at the bbq place across the street with everyone."

"Yum!" Seora says. "I could eat!" You laugh just as she greets your family and the rest of your friends, the entire group congratulating her while making their way over to the bbq spot across the street to celebrate with the team and their families.

"How does it feel to be headed off to the championships?" 

"Like I'm on top of the world." Seora says, tossing her duffle bag aside, sighing contently as she carefully places her MVP medal onto the kitchen island. "Frame this, daddy. Please. I'll need to cherish this forever." Yunho laughs.

"You got it."

"I'm gonna go shower so we can get to shopping. Ou, then I can finally put this on my purse for today!" She squeals, pulling out the Hirono plush keychain she got from you. You had given her a Hirono blindbox as her small present post-game; something she had apparently been talking about and eyeing for days now, per her father. 

"Can't wait to see that little cutie hanging from your purse." She smiles, giving you one last look of appreciation with the keychain in hand before rushing off to her bedroom with her things— leaving you and her father behind.

"Want anything to drink or snack on, baby?" Yunho asks as he shuffles through his fridge. "Seora and I cut some fruit up last night and made a little fruit bowl." He holds out a large clear bowl full of strawberries, mangoes, pineapples, grapes. 

"Sure, I could use some fruit." He laughs.

"Atta girl." He says, bringing out two small bowls for you and him. He scoops some fruit into both before heading to the couch with both in hand. "Here." He holds out a bowl.

"Thank you." You look at the fruit. "Ouuu, they look so pretty and fresh."

"Right? They're hella good." He immediately digs in, forking right into a slice of mango. "God damn." You giggle.

"Seora played a hell of a game today. And was named MVP by her coach. You must be a proud dad."

"Always." He smiles. "God, what a good day." 

"What does she do during off season?"

"Tournaments." He looks at you. "She never really stops playing, honestly."

"Really?"

"Mhm. She signs up for the youth recreational league at the nearby recreation center every summer. It's usually the same group of kids, lots of kids from her school join, too. It helps her continue to train over break."

"That's good. She likes to be busy, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, she does. Which, I guess, it's good. At least she's not always glued to her phone."

"Yeah."

"Her, Chan-mi, and their other friends always go out and explore. They rarely stay in and just doom-scroll or stay on TikTok, even though it may seem like it." You laugh.

"That's really good, love. You should be proud." The two of you continue to eat away at your fruit while going over the rest of Seora's birthday party details. You had helped Yunho book the perfect place for her party, along with placing the order for the decorations and cake. Yunho finalized the catering. Now, they just needed her list so they could get a final headcount and send out invites. 

Once Seora was freshly showered and dressed, she grabs her shoulder bag and clips the Hirono keychain, along with a few of her other smaller keychains onto it. She looks at herself in the mirror for the final time before spraying some body mist and heading out of her room.

"I'm ready." She stands in the hallway in her jeans and a light purple sweater with flowers printed on the front.

"You look so cute. I love that sweater on you."

"Thanks." She chuckles, walking by your side as you two slip into your shoes near the front of the door. "I can't wait to finally go shopping."

"I know. We'll find you a cute outfit for your birthday. I know we will." She immediately links her arm with yours as you begin to walk towards Yunho's car— leaving him behind to slip into his shoes and lock up alone.

"Heyyyy. I still exist, too. I'm paying, remember?" He calls out, patting down his pockets before locking up the house.

"Yeah, we know, daddy. Don't worry." The both of you turn and pause in your steps, Seora shooting her dad a look.

"Oh yeah, really?" He playfully scoffs, gently ruffling her hair. 

"Hey!" She says. 

"Let's not go overboard with the new outfits, okay? That's the only rule I have."

"I never said I was gonna go overboard." Seora says, climbing into the backseat. "I'm a responsible shopper!" She pauses before she buckles in her seatbelt. "Most of the time. I've only accidentally gone overboard during stationary shopping, but I don't always do it!"

"Mhm." Yunho chuckles, looking at you. "My ladies all buckled in and ready?"

"Yes." You respond just as Seora does. You look at her through the rear view mirror, giving her another small smile while Yunho takes off for the mall. You listen intently as she starts to brainstorm more ideas for her birthday outfit— her ideas having changed a bit since the last time you two talked. You can tell she's excited to see what's out there, to find what works, to find a new style that she could show off. 

On the way to the mall, Seora connects her phone to the bluetooth so she could pick and choose her favorite songs. You and Yunho sang along to most, the car ride turning into a full-blown karaoke session at one point. 

You arrived at the mall within a blink of an eye.

Seora immediately walked to her favorite store, her eyes lighting up at the new collection and spread throughout the shop. 

"Ace." Yunho's hands are dug deep into his pockets as he trails behind you two. He's a little scared, he's not gonna lie. He's not sure if he's scared to see Seora grow up so quickly right in front of his eyes, or if he's afraid for his wallet. Or both, perhaps. But, he decides to give her a friendly reminder to keep it cool, calm, and collected. "Just what you need—"

"Yes, right, yeah!" She says, already rushing off to the first section with you right behind her.

"And not anything unnecessary." Yunho finishes his statement, shaking his head with a small chuckle. Forget it, he thinks. Why the fuck was he being like this? It was for her birthday. He needed to let her do whatever the hell he wanted. Besides, he liked seeing this.

You and Seora taking your sweet time go through the each and every single item on the rack.

He was going to sit back and silently trail behind, waiting to whip out his wallet whenever you two were ready. But, his smile grew wider and wider every time Seora turned to ask for his opinion or to excitedly show him the new options she'd hang over her arm before going off on how she envisioned the outfit in her head. 

Once she was ready [and damn near drowning with all the clothes on her arm], she ran off to the dressing room with you— wanting you to be in the room with her. It was another step forward in your relationship with Seora, more progression in your relationship, and you couldn't be more ecstatic. Grateful. You helped set her clothes along the wall of the dressing room, lining up the shirts and bottoms by outfit ideas. Yunho sat outside, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He realized he hadn't taken an 'artistic' shot in awhile to post on his Instagram, and he was quite overdue. Hopefully, he could snap a photo today. It could be his way of updating whoever followed him on life's adventures.

Updating them that he was happy, that Seora was happy.

That all was well and he felt loved. At the equal amount of love he was giving. Everything felt balanced for once.

He could hear the two of you laughing while trying to decide the best way to mix and match the oufits, until finally, he heard Seora squeal a few times. 

"Wait, this is it!" She squeals. "These are the two! This is perfect!"

"Yeah?" You laugh, looking at her in the mirror. "It's super cute. I agree on both." She nods. "Turn around?" She turns. 

"Cute?"

"Mhm! Okay, face front again." You direct her. "Pose." She does a cute pose, throwing up the peace sign with her lips puckered. "Yes girl, there it is!" She laughs. "Again— mhm, cute!" Yunho laughs to himself hearing the cute girl talk outside.

"Wait, can we take a mirror picture?"

"But, I look gross." You chuckle.

"You don't." She gently wraps her arm around yours to tug you closer, leaning her head against it as she brings up her phone. "1-2— Pose!" She throws up the peace sign again— this time, sticking her tongue out, while you also throw up the peace sign and make a cute face. She laughs, admiring the photos. "Yup, I want these outfits. This is it." She looks at herself again in the mirror, observing the outfit from side to side, back to front. "See, I wouldn't have been able to do this with dad."

"I heard that." Yunho murmurs right outside the door, making her giggle.

"I love you!" She calls out before undressing and putting on her own clothes. You separate the 'no' items from the 'yes' items, making sure everything Seora wanted was in the right hand. 

"I love you, too." Yunho grumbles. But, just before he could throw a dramatic [unserious, playful] tantrum, the door swings open and out comes a happy daughter and girlfriend. Suddenly, he's no longer hurt by the fact that Seora doesn't think he can provide top tier fashion advice— he can't even stop his smile from growing when he sees how naturally happy the two of you are together. "Sounds like we had some success with the stuff you two picked out?"

"Yup!" You raise your left hand. "This is the no group." Yunho's nods and chuckles.

"And that's the yes?" He points to your right hand, causing you to nod. 

"I'll let you take care of these." You hand the clothes over to him. He lets out a teasing sigh, taking the items from your hand and throwing them carefully over his arm. 

"Yeah, yeah." Yunho chuckles, taking out his wallet from his back pocket while you and Seora follow from behind. "Let me think about which card to put this on."

"Thank you, daddy." Seora clings onto his free arm and looks up at him with her cute, boba eyes. He smiles down at her and ruffles her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head like he always does.

"You're welcome, ace. As long as you're happy." As Yunho gets to the register to pay for Seora's outfits and accessories, Seora looks out to the mall, her eyes landing on the milk tea stand in the middle of the walkway outside of the store.

"Y/N, can you come with me to get milk tea, please? I'm parched after trying on those clothes." You laugh, nodding.

"Alright. Come on, let's go get some milk tea. What does your dad want?"

"Taro." 

"What do you like?" 

"I like being adventurous." She taps her chin as you approach the milk tea booth, eyeing the specials they have. "Like, that oreo thai milk tea. Ou, or that black sugar banana milk with boba? Oh my god."

"You should do it." You respond in a sing-song tone with an approving look.

"What'll you get?"

"I'm simple like your dad, too." You giggle. "I usually just go for a strawberry matcha latte if I want something sweet, or a roasted oolong milk tea if I want something that's not too heavy."

"Those are good, though. Strawberry matcha latte is so good. Are you craving that for today?"

"Yeah, I suppose I can go for that today." You smile as you approach the cashier. "Decide on which one you wanna taste?"

"Definitely can't stop thinking about the black sugar banana milk with boba. It's probably gonna be really sweet, but I need it. I played my butt off today." You laugh and nod.

"Got it." You order for the three of you, tapping your card against the reader just as Yunho makes his way over— his long legs striding over in two, three, four big steps.

"Hey, woah. You couldn't wait for me to get those?"

"It's fine." You look up at him with a smile. "Let me get the milk tea." He tuts.

"Babe." He whines a bit under his breath.

"Stop." You chuckle, grabbing the receipt from the cashier before thanking the associate. "We got you taro."

"That's perfect. Thank you." He says, planting a kiss against your temple before throwing his arm around Seora— tugging her to his side and causing her to giggle. "Wanna walk around some more?" 

"Yeah, yeah!" Seora says. Once the drinks were made, the three of you continued to walk around the mall— mainly to window shop. Seora grabbed herself a few little goodies consisting of more stationary supplies, keychains, and small, inexpensive blind boxes. Towards the end, she found a pair of chunky black boots that she couldn't stop eyeing. Yunho could tell she wanted them badly, despite the fact that she kept brushing it off and telling him she didn't want it. 

That he bought enough for her, that she was more than satisfied.

He could see it in his daughter's eyes.

So, he walked in there, had her try on the shoes— watched her face glow. The moment he realized she couldn't stop staring at herself in those shoes, he knew she had to have the pair.

After he bought her the boots, Seora's eyes landed on a small crowd of people populating in an area.

"Wait, let's go check it out." She nods at the section. "There's people heading over there. I'm curious." You and Yunho nod. It's not long before you find out that they were holding a light exhibit at the end of the mall, which Seora dragged both you and Yuhno into before going home. It was a free exhibit, and luckily, the three of you caught it on its last day. Despite the small crowd that formed at the entrance, there weren't too many people walking through the exhibit itself— making it easier to take photos.

"Y/N, oh my god. Look. Isn't it so cute?!" Seora says, dragging you by the hand towards the fairy made up of bright lights.

"She is cute." You laugh. "I've never seen such a huge light exhibit at the mall."

"It's amazing." She looks up in awe.

"Okay, pose right over there." You let go of her hand and direct her to stand near the fairy's wings. "Cute!" You show her the picture.

"Oh gosh." Seora laughs. "It is cute. Here. Can I take yours? Then, the big ol' giant can come join you."

"Excuse you." Yunho responds.

"What?" Seora asks as she focuses on taking your picture, smiling at the way you pose. "Pretty!" She shows you the photo, causing you to nod in approval. 

"Aw, thank you, Seora. Your angles are amazing. You take better picture than me and Wonwoo combined. My parents will definitely agree on that." You snort.

"Okay, okay. Dad, go be cute and stand next to Y/N." She gently pushes her dad towards the fairy to stand next to you. Yunho throws an arm around you, tugging you close to his side. He makes a silly face and throws up the peace sign, making Seora laugh. "You're not serious. I said be cute!"

"Am I not cute?!"

"Dad, please." You gently smack his chest also in retaliation.

"Ah—Okay, okay." He laughs. The two of you smile for the first photo before Yunho kisses your cheek for the next. Seora directs him to hug you from behind, making you giggle. She snaps a few candid photos— satisfied with what she was able to capture. 

"Perfect." She says, showing you the photos she took on your phone. "Isn't it super cute?"

"Damn, ace. You do take good photos."

"I know, I taught you, remember?" She laughs, taking the lead further down the exhibit. You catch up and walk alongside of Seora, the both of you continuing to look at the lights in awe— snapping photos every chance you get. Yunho couldn't help but chuckle to himself, trailing behind just to watch you two interact. It made his heart swell with love, affection. Overwhelming joy. 

His girls drinking milk tea together under the lights. The exhibit took 30 minutes before the three of you finally hit the end. A staff member noticed you and Yunho switching off to take photos with Seora, so they offered to take a couple of group shots for you. When you looked at the photos, you couldn't help but almost tear up at how happy Yunho and Seora looked alongside of you. How happy the three of you looked together.

How complete you looked.

It was decided you'd grab Seora's favorite fried chicken and kimchi fried rice from her favorite restaurant on the way home, part two of the karaoke session kicking in after a successful shopping trip and day out together post-playoff game. Back at Yunho's, everyone settles down quickly— changing into pajamas before gathering at the dining table to eat together. Seora talks a bit about the upcoming championship game as a way to calm her nerves. She talk about how she hopes she'll play well just like she did in today's game. You and Yunho reassure her, reminding her just how much of an amazing player she is no matter what the outcome ends up being. Yunho follows up by telling her how proud he is of how far she's come and how excited he is to see where she goes. 

To see where this all takes her. To see her grow.

And you are, too. Hopefully, alongside of Yunho, for years to come.

After dinner, you and Seora help Yunho clean up in the kitchen. You're cleaning the dishes, while Seora is wiping down the table and Yunho is taking out the trash. Your mom had quickly stopped by to say hi, bringing over some cake for the three of you to quickly indulge in for dessert. Once the kitchen was neat and tidy, Yunho pulled out the couch to turn it into a bed, dropping some blankets onto the surface. Yunho gets himself settled on one end with you on the other end. Seora lays sideways [somehow comfortably] in between you and her father, with her head on your lap— your hand gently threading through her long hair and massaging her scalp.

"I want to invite him to my birthday, but I dunno if he'd go." Seora shows you a picture of a boy in the grade above, supposedly one of the cuter boys in that class that all the girls in her class have a crush on. She also has a crush on him, but she won't say it out loud with her father being so close in proximity. 

"Why not? You never know unless you ask, Seora." 

"I'm afraid of rejection. Like, as in, he won't be able to go to the party." She talks in code with you, giving you a quick look.

"How could he say no to you?" You chuckle. "Besides, you said the boys in your class are cool with him. He might be okay hanging out with them for the day."

"Excuse me, who is this boy we're talking about?" Yunho cocks a brow up as he sips the cup of tea in hand. He props Seora's feet onto his lap, gently adjusting her crooked fuzzy socks. "Acting like I can't hear this conversation." 

"Nobody, dad." Seora giggles.

"All of a sudden he's a nobody." You give him a look, subtly shaking your head to stop him from pressing on. He mouths out a single 'what?' before glancing back down at his daughter. Then, back at you.

"Seora is just going through her guest list for the party."

"And are you satisfied with it?"

"I think so." Seora sighs, sinking into your hold as you continue to rake through her hair with your fingers. 

"I say you should just invite everyone you've got on that list." She briefly looks up at you and you wink. She smiles before nodding, scrolling through her Instagram feed again.

"Yeah, I will. Why shouldn't I, right?"

"Let me see the list, ace."

"Once I'm done." She emphasizes.

"Am I gonna see some new names?"

"Perhaps."

"Can I at least meet these new names beforehand? Give them a little interview before they step through the hall doors—"

"Jeong Yunho." You mutter as you give him another look, making Seora laugh.

"Daddy got in trouble."

"Hey, I'm just trying to do my daddy duties."

"Daddy duties gotta relax during birthday girl's party." Yunho looks at you before giving off a resigned sigh.

"Fine, fine. But if these newcomers try anything, I'll be quick to show them the door."

"Dad's a gentle giant, he wouldn't." Seora says, setting her phone down to pay attention to the TV.

"Yes the hell I would." Yunho adds. "You think I wouldn't for you, ace?"

"Daddy. You wouldn't cause problems. You could never." She says, squealing a bit when Yunho gently tickles her foot and squeezes her toes.

"Just protecting my little girl, that's all." You smile at the two's playful banter. As the zombie movie continues, you and Seora chime in with your thoughts on each scene that unfolds. There's a lengthy debate that goes on for awhile about survival skills and the best way to stay alive the longest, even as Seora starts to yawn.

Then, the yawns trickle down to you.

Eventually, it gets a little too quiet. Seora's commentary has stopped. Sooner or later, your own comments and giggles have stopped. Yunho feels like he might be watching the movie by himself at this point.

And he's right.

He slightly turns his head to the right, seeing you tucked against his side— fast asleep. Seora's head is still on your lap. He smiles to himself, silently and slowly tugging up the blankets to completely drape them over your bodies in the meantime.

"My sleepy, beautiful ladies."

his reputation precedes him, rooms bend around him and there is always something staining his hands. more often than not, blood.

so he shouldn't look like this.

he shouldn't be kneeling in front of you, at your feet, with an expression so remorseful you're sure even his closest confidants haven't seen it.

he shows up with violence trailing behind him, cut up and bleeding but nonetheless, crawling back to you like some kind of masochist. it if weren't so pathetic, you would almost find it cute how he acted like some sort of lapdog, deprived of your attention.

you can read him like an open book when he gets like this.

you don't say anything, silently flicking through another page in your book.

you can barely make out whats on the pages though as the blood rushes in your ears

he's tracked dirt and blood into your space. his nose is bloodied, more of it drying on his shirt and neck. his posture is bent over, hunched as if he's struggling to find the strength to meet your eyes.

you resist the urge to shudder at the sight of how much there is. you hate blood, you always have despite being able to suppress how sick it makes you.

he knows this and yet he still drags himself to you, stupid mutt.

his chains clink softly against each other as he moves closer, holding you ankle as he presses his cheek against your thigh tenderly. it's pathetic, but your heart does squeeze slightly with something old and worn at the sight.

he's not composed or steady, no he just looks dazed, the same way someone looks dazed after they've seen something they shouldn't have. it's not uncommon to see in his line of work.

he whines under his breath and grips your ankle tighter, finally you bristle at the contact.

"do you think it's really befitting of you to be acting like this, min?"

your voice is calm, but your eyes don't focus on him. they're following the traces of blood, all the way to the crack in the door, where you can see a pair of faces peeking in.

"i can see you."

the shuffling outside stops. the door opens slight, yunho and jongho peaking in.

your husbands bodyguards. this must be a sight for them to see, the big bad wolf whimpering and whining for your attention.

both of them look between the floor and you, and you can sense how tense they are.

jonghos gaze is following the same blood trail, but he refuses to meet your eyes. yunho watching mingi, only briefly meeting your eyes.

"this isn't a free for all. go find something to do. dispose of a body or something. just keep everyone away from here."

they both straighten up, bowing their heads as they leave, both of them casting a last reluctant glance at mingi as the door clicks shut behind them.

there's more silence. you reach out to push a hair from his face, and then go back to doing what you're doing.

he makes a strangled noise, you can't tell if its indignant or hurt.

"i'm sorry baby. for tracking the blood all over your floor."

you stay silent, letting him ramble.

"i thought you were gonna at least look at me." he swallowed, shifting for a moment. "i came here and you're ignoring me."

he sounds angry, as if this is something he doesn't deserve. it's barely controlled. his breathing gets sharp, and his hand moves up your leg,

"you're not even trying." his jaw tightens. you can tell he's just barely holding back.

"you're losing blood all over my carpet, and you're strung up from wherever you came from." you respond lightly. "you need to calm down so you can think clearly."

"i can think clearly, baby. don't test me." he snarls, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

"you know exactly who i am, you choose this, you chose me. and it's just blood."

you know there is no real bite to his words.

you close the book, and it resounds through the room. he balks when he realizes what he's done.

"think about what you say next, song mingi."

you don't know what he though, thinking he could get away with threatening you like that. his breathing is uneven again, slipping as he presses himself into you, ashamed.

"'m sorry, i- i shouldn't have, didn't mean it like that, please please don't push me out, baby. i'll be good, i promise."

you don't interrupt him once. you let him beg.

"shouldn't have raised m voice like that, 'm so sorry, i didn't wanna argue, I jus wanted, no, i just needed to-"

you're tired of it.

you reach a hand down, gently carding it through his hair, and he shuts up almost instantly. you bite back the urge to laugh at how domesticated he seems.

before he can relax into you again, you grab a handful from the back of his head, yanking him up to meet your eyes.

he whimpers loudly. you grin, suddenly finding yourself entertained. you hate to say how lustful it feels, letting him watch you with half lidded eyes.

he doesn't struggle against you, adjusting so he's on his knees as you scoot closer. you pull again, and he starts squirming.

"what are you gonna do about it mings?" there is fake hurt in your voice, and even if he is intelligent enough to recognize it, he's putty in your hands right now. "you really hurt my feelings. gonna apologize to me like a good boy?"

"won't do it again- won't, y/n, please." there's urgency in his voice, and you study him. his face is flushed, and he's pushing up against the couch in a not so subtle manner.

it clicks suddenly when you see a slightly wet patch on his pants.

"you're dirty, mingi." he freezes as you click your tongue, slowly meeting your eyes.

"humping the furniture? really? first of all you ruin my carpet, and now you're humping my furniture. you really can't help yourself." your hand leaves his hair, tracing down his cheekbone. "you're like a dumb puppy. pathetic, keep making messes everywhere."

"baby please-" your thumb presses hard into his bottom lip.

"i don't recall allowed you to speak. open."

he opens up with no shame, letting you look at his teeth. at some point, he traps your thumb between his teeth, and you give him a pointed look. he lets go just as easy, red rising in his ears.

you have to hold back a snicker. you enjoy it.

"i like looking down at you. 's where you like being, isn't it?" he groaned in agreement, shoving your finger back into his mouth and letting him suck. his jaw flexes, teeth scraping against them.

it's almost too easy. he doesn't even have the sense to look ashamed, rather he looks like he wants to beg for more, but is holding onto his pride.

you know how to undo that.

so that exact hand leaves his mouth and finds its way to his throat. he whines about that too, needy.

"i know you want to suck them but you sound so desperate right now."

your fingers trace over his adams apple, earning a shudder from him as you trace patters. you don't stop though until you reach his throat, grabbing some of his chains in your hand.

they're heavy and warm from sitting against mingis skin. you like them. wrap them around your hand.

he watches you nervously.

you yank.

his pupils are blown as he gets closer, even in the low light.

"if you want to really apologize, i figure you should do it the right way, yeah? be a good boy and show me what you can do with that mouth. maybe i'll even forgive you for the carpet."

that gets his attention.

you think he gets the implication from how he dips his head submissively towards your core, hot breath shaky on your thighs.

you release the chains, going back to pet his hair. "that's it. head down. fix it, ok? want you to make me forget all about the carpet."

good boy.

"i'm going for a dip," setting his glass down with a soft thud. the sun catches the lean muscle of his torso. "care to join me?"

"give me a few minutes," you hummed, eyes closed behind your shades. "i'm still waiting for this oil to absorb. i don't want to be like some jellyfish."

a few minutes passed, and you finally stood and padded over to the jacuzzi — a sunken oasis he’d specifically reserved to ensure that no stray tourists or screaming children would interrupt your peace. seonghwa was already there, leaning back against the dark stone tiles in the center of the pool. his wet hair was pushed back, and his eyes were fixed on you. he’d been patient all afternoon, playing the perfect fiancé, but the way that bikini hugged your curves had been driving him toward a breaking point since lunch. 

"come here," his alluring voice promised nothing but trouble. the water was steaming, almost matching the air's temperature, and when you stepped in, the heat was immediate. the moment you were within reach, his hands were on you, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. the greenery surrounding the jacuzzi was a good enough cover, but through the leaves, you could see the faint glow of the bar and the staff still moving about.

"my love," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hands wandered down to the thin strings at your hips. "you look so beautiful like this. sunkissed... and completely mine."

with a light tug, the fabric of your bikini bottoms was gone, floating somewhere near. his fingers took their place, sliding between your thighs, finding your already aching cunt. his mouth moved to your neck, tasting the lingering coconut oil. 

"so tense, already," he teased, his teeth grazing your pulse point. "is it the thought of someone seeing you? of a gardener walking past that hedge and seeing exactly what i'm doing to my bride?"

“mmm…” you whimpered, the sound caught in your throat as he turned you around to guide himself to your entrance, forcing you to face him while he pushed himself in. the water acted as the perfect lubricant, letting him slide home with a single slow thrust. you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders, but his hand clamped over your mouth as his eyes cut toward the path behind the greenery. 

"shhh," he hissed suddenly, his body going rigid against yours. "someone's coming. stay quiet and don't move a muscle."

your heart hammered against your ribs. the distant voices, probably a security guard or a waiter, echoed, and seonghwa didn't pull out; he stayed buried deep, his hot breath ragged against your shoulder. only when the footsteps faded into the distance did he let out a sigh, his hand removed itself, going to hold your hips as he began to move again.

it wasn't the gentle and romantic rhythm he’d usually go for; it was frantic and filthy. he drove into you with a raw hunger, the water splashing over the sides of the jacuzzi in a messy symphony. the hot water was nothing compared to the fire spreading through your veins. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing every inch of him. 

"f-fuck... right here, hwa... faster, please," moaning, your head falling back against his damp shoulder. he was hitting every sensitive spot inside that had you see stars during daytime.

"who am i to deny the love of my life?" he groaned into your skin and you were burning up, and it had nothing to do with the tropical heat. you hugged him tighter, to pull him even deeper, your muffled moans lost to the sound of the bubbling jets.

"that's it, take it all," a silent order to submit, as he groaned, his hands gripping your hips to drive himself in places he has already reached. "you're such a greedy little thing, wanting it right here where anyone could catch us. i'm going to make sure you remember this trip every time you look at the ocean.”

he praised you with every heavy thrust, calling you his perfect, beautiful bride while his hands treated you like something he intended to break and rebuild. all you could taste was him as he tipped your chin up to kiss you one more time, swallowing your final, high-pitched whine as he dived even deeper into your greedy cunt. you didn't know if the salt on your lips was from the splashing water or the tears that fell down your cheeks. your body felt like it was operating at a fever pitch, a molten core of need that only seonghwa could satisfy.

"look at you," he pulled back to look at your flushed face, his hands cupping your cheeks with such terrifying tenderness. "look how well you take me... i can't even look away from you for a second without wanting to ruin you all over again."

you leaned into his touch, your breath coming in shattered gasps. "thank you for... ahh–"

"thank me?" he chuckled, his hips never ceasing their punishing rhythm. "my beautiful girl, i’m the one who should be thanking you. do you have any idea what you do to me? how perfect you’re going to look walking down that aisle? how perfect you’re going to look when you’re carrying my name... and my children?"

the mention of the domestic reality of your future hit you harder than any thrust.

"i want to see you soft and round with my baby," he whispered, his teeth grazing your cheek as he picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate. "you’re so perfect, my love. i want a house full of kids who have your eyes. i want to spend the rest of my life making sure you never want for a single thing."

"i’ll be the best wife," you sobbed out, your fingers clutching the damp hair at the nape of his neck. you wanted to give him everything: to be the woman of his dreams, the mother of his kids, the partner who matched his every intense whim. "i’ll give you everything, hwa. i promise. just don't stop... please, please don't stop."

"i'm never going to stop," he promised, his voice slightly cracking. "i'm going to spend every day of our marriage reminding you that you belong to me. you’re so pretty when you beg for it. my perfect, and so greedy girl."

he shifted his grip, lifting you higher then slamming you back down so he could claim the very depths of you. he worshipped you with every filthy word and every heavy, deep stroke as he claimed you entirely, leaving no doubt in your mind that you were exactly where you were meant to be: spoiled, loved, and utterly his.

the jacuzzi was no longer enough. the fever in your blood had reached a boiling point that the water couldn't soothe, and the hazy look in your eyes was driving seonghwa insane. he hauled you out of the water, barely giving you a second to catch your breath as he threw a silk robe over you. the walk back to the hotel room, which looked more like a penthouse, was a blur of shadows and the frantic thrum of your heart. the moment the heavy oak door clicked shut behind you, he didn't even make it to the bedroom.

he pinned you against the cold marble of the kitchen island, the contrast of the chilled stone against your overheated skin making you let out a high-pitched moan. 

"i saw you earlier," he rasped, his hands trembling as he spread your legs wide. "on the beach, helping that mother with her baby. the way you held that child... the way you looked so natural and ready for this life."

you couldn't even form words. your brain was static, a mess of white noise and pure sensation. all you could do was nod your head, agreeing with everything he says, even if you couldn’t understand, and whine for him to fill the ache.

"i thought i could wait for the honeymoon. be a gentleman and wait until we said our vows. but i can’t."

seonghwa didn't hold back. he was relentless, maybe even borderline obsessive with the idea of starting a family with you. he filled you there on the counter, then again against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, overlooking the vast sea. he whispered praise into your skin like a prayer: how you were going to be the most amazing mother his children could ever dream of.

"that's it, my love." he groaned, his voice vibrating through your chest. "get used to this feeling. i’m going to fill you up every single night until you’re glowing with me."

by the time he finally carried you to the oversized bed, you were completely spent. your hair was a damp, salty mess against the silk pillows, and your skin was covered with sweat, hickeys, and him. you were sprawled out, limbs heavy and twitching, your mind unable to process anything other than the weight of him as he crawled over you one last time.

your moans had turned into soft whimpers, echoing in the quiet penthouse. you were so full — physically, emotionally, and utterly. every time he moved inside you, it felt like he was stitching your souls together, making good on every promise he’d ever whispered.

"my perfect wife," he whispered, brushing a wet strand of hair from your forehead, his gaze softening into something so full of love it hurt. "my beautiful and spoiled girl. you're so full of me, aren't you?"

you could only nod weakly; you were a hot mess, but you knew you’d never felt more cherished. he had spoiled you with jewels and trips, but this was the greatest gift he’d ever given you. driven by a vision of your future together, he changed his movements to chase that final release. with one last groan, he buried his face in the crook of your neck and came inside you with a force that left you both shaking, pinning you to the mattress.

for a long moment, the only sound in the penthouse was the synchronized rhythm of your breathing. then feral intensity in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by a look of profound, almost aching tenderness. he didn't pull away immediately; staying close to pepper your face with soft kisses as the adrenaline began to fade.

"i'm sorry, my love," he whispered, a little regret could be heard as he pecked your lips, "i was... i was far too rough with you. i don't know what came over me. i shouldn't have used you like that."

you reached up, your fingers trembling as you traced the line of his jaw. "don't be sorry," you breathed, eyelashes fluttering. "i trust you more than i trust myself."

true to his nature, he didn't let you stay in the mess for too long; he picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bathroom to help you shower. he washed you himself, and soon, you were smelling like coconut and expensive hibiscus again, wrapped in the fluffiest white robes the hotel provided.

he didn't even bother stripping the bed yet; he simply layered a few plush towels over the center of the mattress so you could collapse back into the pillows. crawling in beside you, pulling you into his side so your head rested on his chest. his heart was still beating a little fast, a steady drum underneath your ear. you looked up at him, a sleepy tugging at your lips. 

"you’re actually insane, you know that? i think you lost your mind back there."

"i think i did.” seonghwa let out a soft laugh, his arm tightening around your shoulders. “but you can’t blame me."

"well," you hummed, snuggling deeper into his warmth, "you get a pass for now. but only because i love you so much."

"just for now?" he teased, kissing the top of your head. "i'll have to work extra hard tomorrow to keep that pass, then."

you closed your eyes, the scent of him and the sound of the distant waves finally lulling you toward sleep. you were spoiled, you were exhausted, and you were undeniably full of him — but more than anything, you couldn’t wait to be officially his and have his last name.

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY TO MY BEST FRIEND, 1 & ONLY DIVA, MY GORJUS WIFE AND PARTNER IN CRIME, MACIE <3 i'm sorry i can't upload it on your birthday because of posting other things BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ! i wish you all the best, i'm so thankful i know you and that we grew close so quickly, i adore you with my heart, mind and soul !! EVERYONE MAKE SURE TO WISH A HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @strhwa ON MAY 8TH !! again I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK <333