still with you.

No matter how many times Jeno tries to deny or convince himself otherwise, you can tell—he hates being in a secret relationship. He hates being your secret. And who could blame him? No one wants to feel like they’re being hidden by the one person who’s supposed to love, cherish and adore them completely. 

But that’s just the thing. You’re not the only person who loves Lee Jeno.

Not when he’s up there on stage, night after night, basking in the roar of thousands who love him too. He’s adored by strangers, worshipped by fans, and wanted by everyone.

And yet—he chose you. He still chooses you.

He kisses you in elevator corners when it’s just the two of you, and pulls you into janitor closets like you’re back in high school. He makes little gestures on camera only you would catch—a tilt of his head, a thumb brushing his lip, a tap over his heart. As if to say still yours, still here, still love you. And you bask in it all. 

You know—despite his options and his fame—he loves you. Only you. There’s never been a doubt. Not when you still remember the endless months he spent pining after you like a love-sick puppy. Back when you told him you couldn’t give him more. That he’d only be wasting his time by pursuing you. 

He didn’t care. 

Maybe that’s why he agreed to this mess in the first place. The secrecy. The ache. Because for him, having you—even as a secret—was enough. He’d take you in pieces if that’s all you could offer. He’d take you quietly, behind closed doors. Because all he ever really wanted, was you. 

But you see the cracks now.

The way he deflates every time you say no to dinner in public. How his fingers twitch when you pull your hand away before anyone sees. How he stares a little too long at your unadorned ring finger after offering you a matching one. And the last one—the most recent wound—you saw it in his eyes when you turned down the invite to the award show.

He thought you’d come. Thought that maybe since Mark had started bringing his new girlfriend to events, you’d be ready too.

But you weren’t.

Truthfully, Mark’s girlfriend had only made things worse. Not her personally, but seeing the thousands of comments attacking her made you upset. You weren’t sure you were strong enough to survive that kind of hate if you were in her position.

What upset you more, though, was overhearing Jeno with Hyuck last week.

“I really wanted her there, man. But I know the cameras would freak her out. I just… I hate that she has to stay away. She deserves to be there with me, you know? Without feeling like everyone is going to tear her apart.”

Hyuck said something back but you can’t even remember what. Your heart was beating too loud to process everything properly. The only thing you remember is how tired Jeno sounded. How frustrated. And worse, hurt. Because of you. Because of this.

You hated that he had to hide those feelings. 

And that’s why you’re sitting in front of your vanity on the night of the award show, debating which shade of red lipstick would look best with your outfit. The dress—long, silk, red—is the one you’ve avoided for months. Too bold. Too bright. Too seen. But you slipped into it anyway.

It’s a reckless plan. You know that. It could blow up in your face. Go viral in the worst way. But still—you made the decision. Tonight, you’re done hiding. Tonight, you’re done keeping him a secret. Tonight, you’ll step into the spotlight for him. Because you love him. And more importantly, because he deserves it.

“Baby… can you help me with my tie?”

Jeno’s voice filters in from the hallway, slightly distracted, but then he sees you. 

His mouth parts, and his entire body goes still. His eyes drag over you quickly as if he doesn’t trust them. Then he starts blinking rapidly like he’s trying to make sure he’s not hallucinating.

“You—” he starts, but the word breaks in half. He clears his throat. “You look…”

You glance at his reflection in the mirror. He’s red and flustered. Completely undone. The tie he needed help with is now tangled between his fingers.

“Wow,” he finishes.

A slow smile touches your mouth. “Wow, huh?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Wow.”

He takes a hesitant step closer. Then another. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too quickly. And truthfully? You might. You’re still half a breath away from backing out, clinging to this idea by a thread. 

But then he’s standing behind you. His gaze catches yours in the mirror as he runs a soothing hand up and down your arm. 

“You look a little…overdressed for a night in, baby.”

You hold his eyes. “That’s because I’m not planning on staying in,” you whisper. “Not tonight.”

“Wait—does this mean…?” His voice falters, and his hand stops on your skin the exact moment it hits him. The realisation softens the edges of his face, but it also brings something more cautious. “You’re—are you sure?”

You turn to face him.

He looks gorgeous, of course—hair perfectly tousled, dress shirt still half-buttoned, tie crumpled in one hand. But his eyes give him away. That’s his tell. He’s nervous. Not for himself. For you.

You nod, then you rise to your feet. Jeno doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands sliding down to your lower back, anchoring you there. 

“I mean it,” he says, barely above a whisper. “If this is because of me, or because you think I need some kind of grand gesture—don’t. I don’t want you to do this unless you want to. I don’t want you walking into that room and regretting it five minutes later. I don’t want you overwhelmed or scared or…” He swallows, hard. “I don’t want you to end up resenting me.”

His voice cracks a little on that last part.

You could cry. 

Because this is the boy you fell for. Not the one on stage. Just the boy who would’ve waited forever to be claimed if that’s what it took. Just your Jeno. The boy who compromises first, always. The boy who puts your wants before his own—every time.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you say. “Well, not just for you. I’m doing it because I want to. I’m tired of hiding. I love you. And I want to be seen with you.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You laugh—and it’s the kind of laugh that makes your eyes sting, because it feels like relief, like safety, like everything might actually be worth it if it means he’s the one standing beside you.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. To really look at you.

“You’re sure, baby?” he asks again, but this time softer. Just to be certain. Just to make extra sure.

You nod again, firmer now. “I’m sure.”

And that’s it. The switch flips.

Because now that he knows—really knows—you’re in this with him, he changes. The nervousness melts away. The sweet, steady boyfriend evaporates and in his place is his other side. The menace. The flirt. The boy madly, stupidly in love. 

His eyes drop to your dress. He whistles, low.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure I want anyone else seeing you like this,” he says, one hand trailing down the bare skin of your back. “I mean—fuck, baby. Look at you. You’re unreal.”

You snort. “I thought you wanted people to see me.”

“I do,” he hums. “But I think your first public outing as mine should involve an I love my boyfriend t-shirt. Preferably with my face on it.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re already smiling. “Right. Because I’m the one causing competition in this relationship.”

“You are.”

He grins and spins you slowly so you’re facing the mirror again. His chin rests on your shoulder, and his hands roam a little—just enough to make you squirm. 

“I’m serious, babe. I’m gonna have to walk three steps behind you tonight,” he says, eyes fixed on your reflection. “Otherwise I’m gonna end up in a fight.”

“Jeno—”

“No, really. One guy breathes in your direction, I’ll knock him out.”

You shake your head and scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m very serious,” he doubles down. “You’re gonna break the internet. You’re gonna have guys in your comment section and DMs—fucking gross.” He winces, eyes squeezing shut like the thought physically pains him.

You laugh. “Welcome to my world.”

“Christ, baby, how do you do it?” he groans, head tipping back dramatically. 

You glance at him in the mirror, raising a brow. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He kisses your shoulder. Then your neck. Then behind your ear. 

“Yeah, well,” he murmurs. “You’re worth the drama.”

And you know that he means it. Because that’s exactly how you feel about him. At least, you do tonight.

You’re still giggling when Jeno unlocks the door to your apartment, one arm curled tightly under your legs, the other around your back. The hallway spins slightly, or maybe that’s just you—hazy from all the champagne you and Mark’s girlfriend downed while your boyfriend and his bandmate were on stage accepting an award.

The night was good. Really fucking good. Jeno looked at you with so much pride—like having you there, dressed up and laughing beside him, was somehow better than any trophy he won that night. Claiming you in public had lit something in him that his career could never give him. 

“I’m not drunk,” you whine into his neck, breath warm on his skin. “My feet just hurt.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, “That why you nearly fell face first getting into the cab?”

“No,” you huff, pouting. “You try walking in these heels and staying balanced all night.”

“I told you to wear the other shoes before we left,” he mutters, whilst grinning. “But nooo, someone was determined to look sexy tonight.”

He’s right, that was your goal, but still, you hum anyway. “You liked it.”

“Damn right I did.”

The door clicks shut behind him then, and he kicks his shoes off, still holding you like you weigh nothing. He sets you down gently on the edge of the couch, his hands lingering a second longer than necessary on your waist.

“I’ll get you some water,” he says, brushing a kiss against your hairline. “And maybe some painkillers, yeah?”

You nod and he disappears into the bathroom. Sighing, you let your head fall back against the cushion. Your ears are still ringing faintly from the music and cheering. But you feel… lighter. Like something that had been pressing down on your chest finally cracked open and let you breathe. And it has. Because tonight, you were his—and it wasn’t a hidden secret.

You touched him. Kissed him. Supported him. Loved him. Out loud.

Your fingers itch on that thought. You reach for your phone, just to check. Are they talking about it? About you? About—

“Hey.”

Jeno’s voice. 

You freeze, phone halfway unlocked.

“Put it down,” he says softly, stepping into view. He’s changed—his shirt half untucked. He’s undone the top few buttons, disregard his tie, and rolled up his sleeves to reveal the veins running along his forearm. 

Your eyes meet his.

“Why?” you frown.

“You know why,” he says, walking over. “You were so fucking brave tonight, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m not letting those vultures who don’t even know your name upset this—upset you—not tonight.”

He plucks the phone from your hand and sets it down without looking away. Then he drops to his knees in front of you.

Rough palms skim up your thighs slowly. You’re still in that dress, red silk with the slit high enough to tempt his restraint. His hands slide higher, until he’s parting your legs with firm fingers, settling between them like he belongs there.

Because he does.

“We can check it tomorrow if you still want to, baby,” he offers, mouth ghosting over your knee. “But right now? Focus on me. Focus on us. Please?”

You chew your bottom lip, a full-body shiver following the path of his rough palms as they trace the length of your upper leg. God, you love looking at him like this—down on his knees, eyes wide and soft but still dark. That familiar, dangerous sweetness on his face—the kind that makes it impossible to say no to him.

So, you just nod a quiet: “Okay.”

“Good,” he grins, a little wicked now. “Because I just spent an entire night trying not to touch you,” he says hoarsely. “And I fucking love this dress on you, baby.” 

“I picked it with you—”

“Take it off.”

Your lips part of their own accord because you don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice drop like that. It has your fingers fumbling to the clasp behind your back, trembling as you unhook it. Jeno watches like you’re putting on a show just for him. You don't think you’ve ever seen his eyes so heated before either. 

The silk slips from your shoulders, pooling at your waist. And then he’s there—his big hands covering yours, helping you peel it the rest of the way down like he’s unwrapping a gift.

He looks at you in pure awe—like it’s the first time he’s seen every bare inch of your skin, even though it’s not. 

“No fucking underwear, baby?” he asks, thumbs pressing into the soft dips of your waist. “You looked this fucking good all night with nothing on underneath?”

You blink, breath catching.

“I was irritated before,” his jaw tenses. “But now I think I’m mad.”

“Irritated?” you echo.

“Yeah,” he huffs a breath, eyes flicking over your tits straight to your parted lips. “I had to sit there and watch you. Watch you laugh, drink, make every person in that room fall in love with you. And the whole time, you were like this wet and bare—and I didn’t even know.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks—and between your legs.

“I should’ve pulled you into a bathroom stall and made you cum on my fingers just so you’d stop smiling at everyone else.”

Your thighs press together involuntarily. The heat between them is molten now.

“Well,” you whisper, eyes locked on his, “you don’t have to watch anymore.”

He kisses you then and it’s greedy. He’s been holding back for hours, but now, you’re his again—just his—so he doesn’t want to be gentle anymore. He doesn’t have to be.

He pulls you up from the couch, hands sliding down to grab your ass as he walks you backward toward the bedroom, lips styling looked onto yours like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

You tug at his shirt, and he shrugs it off without a second thought.

“Lie down,” he commands softly once you reach the bed.

You obey, spine sinking into the mattress, hair fanning across the pillow as your chest rises and falls rapidly. Jeno climbs over you, one arm braced beside your head, the other slowly moving down the curve of your waist until he’s back to his favourite place—between your legs.

He kisses the inside of your knee first. Then your thigh. Then higher. All without breaking eye contact.

“You’ve been dripping like this all night?” he breathes, lips fanning the skin just above your pubic bone.

You nod as a whine escapes you because of how slowly he’s moving. He’s taking his time, and it’s excruciating considering how much you need him already.

“Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” you pant. “Been wet all night.”

He lets out a low whistle, then leans in closer, blowing soft air against your bare slit. It’s torturous. Delicious. Cruel.

“Fuck, baby,” he coos, eyes locked on your cunt. “This looks like it aches. What’s got you so worked up, hmm?”

“You, Jeno,” you whimper. “Always you. Please.”

He smirks then. A real, filthy grin. “Good.”

He doesn’t move right away. Just watches. Watches the way your thighs twitch. The way your chest rises faster. The way your lips part like you’re about to beg again. 

He likes that. The anticipation. The way you’re already wrecked and he hasn’t even touched you properly. Then finally—finally—his mouth is on you.

It’s slow at first. A single, open-mouthed kiss to your clit, so gentle you barely feel it. Then he sucks. Hard. Tongue flicking over you in the most heavenly way because he knows your body better than you do.

You gasp, hips lifting—but his hands are already there, pinning you down to the mattress with a strength that makes your toes curl.

“Don’t run from me,” he hums against you. “Take it, pretty girl. You deserve it.”

You whimper his name, one hand fisting the sheets, the other reaching down to bury in his hair to tug at the ends whilst he devours you. And when he adds a finger—slips it inside without warning while his tongue flicks fast and precise against your clit—you arch off the bed completely, moaning so loudly it echoes.

“That’s it,” he groans, curling it just right. “So fucking hot.”

You clench around him, and he grins against your skin. Telling you—demanding you—to let go. Which you do, with a cry and a shudder. He doesn’t stop licking until you’re shaking, until you’re whining his name in that breathless, broken way that makes his cock throb behind his zipper.

You’re not even sure how long you’ve been moaning his name before he eventually pulls back and reaches for his belt. You reach for him and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles as you help him free his cock from the layers of fabric. 

Then he lines himself up, bare, and sinks into you with a groan that rips straight from his chest. The sound alone sends another shudder through you.

His head falls forward until his forehead rests against yours as he anchors your hip. His breath fans hot across your lips, leaving delicate pecks as he eases into you carefully. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, the curse trembling. “You feel so good. So fucking good, baby.”

And then—he moves. He fucking moves. Deep and steady. Claiming. 

His mouth hovers near yours. Catching each gasp, each moan, each quiet, desperate, whispered plea of his name from your lips. He wants everything. He wants it all. 

He pulls out slow, just to taunt, and then thrusts back in harder and you groan, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“That’s it,” he says, gritting his teeth. “You like being full of me, don’t you?”

You nod, breathless. “Yes—fuck—yes, Jeno.”

“Been thinking about this all fucking night,” he breathes against your lips. “About getting that fucking dress off you. About making you squirm. Hearing you make all those pretty little noises for me. Taking everything I give you like such a good fucking girl.”

You clench again at his words, and he feels it. 

“Fuck, baby—already close again?” he smirks, biting softly at your jaw. “You’re so fucking easy for me. So wet. So perfect.”

You moan, your legs tightening around his waist. 

“Say it,” he growls, voice cracking now as his thrusts pick up pace. “Say who you’re perfect for. Who this sweet little body was made to take.”

“You,” you cry out, head falling back. “Fuck, it’s only ever you.”

“Damn right,” he grits, snapping his hips harder. “And now the whole world knows, don’t they? And now I get to show everyone who’s got me wrapped around her fucking finger.”

You whine, nails dragging down his back as your body starts to seize again, overwhelmed by the force of him, by his words. He hisses then, and you know he’s just as close as you. 

“Be good for me, baby. Cum on my cock—show me how fucking mine you are.”

Your pussy pulses around him, mouth opening in a loud moan as pleasure rips through you and you can do nothing but clutch at his bare back. The lines of nail marks reddening.  

“Fuck—there you go,” he groans. “That’s it, baby. That’s my girl.”

His own hips stutter, rhythm breaking to a languid pace as he chases his own orgasm. He buries his face in your neck, teeth scraping just enough to nip and suck and leave his favourite kind of purple marks. 

“You’re gonna make me cum,” he snarls against your skin. “Fuck—you feel too good—I can’t—”

He pulls out fast, and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But your mind doesn’t have enough time to process that ache because your eyes lock with his—dilated and heavy-lidded—and you forget to breathe.

His hand wraps around his cock, pumping hard, fast. Just a few strokes before he’s spilling all over your stomach, jaw clenched, your name a growl on his tongue.

The sight alone makes your thighs tremble all over again—because he looks so fucking beautiful like this. Chest heaving, skin slick with sweat, eyes half-lidded and burning only for you. You don’t even care about the mess he’s made on your skin—because tonight, he wasn’t just your secret. He was yours. Publicly. 

warnings: oh boy um, a little dubcon, definitely questionable behaviour from the neos, dom!127 x sub!reader, corruption kink, virginity loss, unprotected sex, orgy, vaginal/oral sex, a few slaps, praise and degradation, innocence kink, corruption, implied LEGAL age gap (reader is around 20), sort of manipulation, size kink, power imbalance kind of, probably more but those are the big ones

-

you’d been at SM since 2018, and it was starting to feel hopeless. you’d improved quickly, and by 2020 they were telling you you were ready to debut, but it just… didn’t happen. they’d let you get your hopes up that you’d debut with aespa— no dice. then there’d been talk of another girl group, which had quickly proved to be just that: talk. you were beginning to wonder if it was ever going to happen, or if you’d be better off leaving instead of wasting another six years of your life, when you were summoned to the CEO’s office.

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing— they needed a new member for nct. they wanted something different. they wanted you.

you’d sat there with your jaw agape, unsure how to respond. you? in a… boy group? that boy group? you’d never even met the nct members; the closest you’d ever gotten was when mark had accidentally walked into your practice room instead of his— and his exclamation of “oh shit” before quickly shutting the door was the only time you’d heard any of their voices in real life. and now you were supposed to be in a group with them?

everything was arranged within the hour; gathering this was most likely your last chance to debut before they decided you were too old to bother with, you put your inhibitions aside and agreed. you signed the contract, shook their hands and were making to head back to the trainee dormitories when they’d stopped you— “all your things are in the 127 dormitory,” they told you. you almost laughed; you should’ve figured that they weren’t exactly asking.

you were beyond nervous to meet them; they’d been famous and, more importantly, best friends for eight years— how were you supposed to fit in with them? did they even want you there? not to mention how the fans would react— but that was a problem for a different day.

the first problem, though, quickly proved to be a non-issue; they were beyond welcoming, and quickly took you under their wing. it’s only natural, you supposed— the newest member, completely inexperienced and younger even than the dream members, it’s not surprising they took to you so easily, and were so gentle and nurturing while they showed you the ropes. it was only natural.

to a point.

the signs were there, really; the way they’d looked you up and down before looking at your face. the way their hands lingered on your waist just a few seconds too long when they hugged you for the first time. the affection they showed you that they swore was normal between all of them, but seemed to have… a little more intention behind it. and the way they praised you when you did something well— learning a dance move, hitting a note, remembering a line. “good girl,” they’d purr, cupping your face with a smile. “such a good listener.” perhaps somewhere, deep down, something in you told you this was beyond the caring, concerned members of a group welcoming their newest member. but it was far too deep to notice— buried beneath the heaps of praise and attention they showered you with. until it wasn’t. until it became too obvious to ignore.

yuta was the first one you really noticed. looking back, he was never really subtle; you saw the way he looked at you from the start— the intensity of his gaze, the way he’d swallow thickly, jaw tense when you walked through the living room in your thin summer pyjamas. he was friendly, like the others, but the way he’d find every excuse to touch you, to pull you into his arms, to snake his arm around your waist during practice and whisper in your ear about how good you’re being— was just over the line of excusable. yet you excused it.

maybe you were desperate to fit in with the group. maybe you wanted to prove yourself as an open, reliable member. maybe you loved the way their praises sounded; the warmth of their touches on your waist and thighs. whatever the reason, you never once protested— never once questioned it. even as the other members became increasingly obvious in their participation, and increasingly bold in their claim of you.

it was a few weeks in that it happened. mark had brought home a case of beer and a few bottles of soju— “we always do this, babe,” he’d said. “helps us bond when we drink together, you know?” and you’d nodded, of course; the last thing you wanted to do was question or upset the balance and routine of the group. you still felt very much like an outsider, an intruder, and you wanted to prove you could belong here— to yourself, as much as to them. it was just 6 of you tonight— johnny, jaehyun, mark, haechan and yuta, surrounding you like predators as much as protectors.

looking back, you should have realised then. you should have realised when they’d sat down in a circle, johnny shuffling next to you— “to make sure you don’t get too drunk,” he’d said. “oldest looking after the youngest.” you should have realised when he got closer and closer until, just when you were crossing the line between tipsy and drunk, he pulled you into his lap completely. you should have realised when the first game haechan suggested was ‘never have i ever’. and if not then, then you definitely should have realised when the first question they asked was never have i ever had sex.

you watched them all drink, grinning at each other as they downed the liquid. johnny adjusted you in his arms slightly to allow him to pick up his bottle and take a swig. when their expectant gazes turned to you, you could do nothing but blush. “i—”

if you’d been brave enough to look up, or sober enough to see clearly, you’d have seen the looks on their faces that were unlike anything you’d seen before— shocked, affected, protective. feral. they couldn’t believe it. no one had ever touched you. you were as pure and unsullied as you seemed— theirs for the taking.

“you’ve really,” jaehyun started, voice thick and catching in his throat, “never had sex?”

you shrugged, blushing deeper. “i was, like, 14 or 15 when i joined the company,” you mumbled. “they don’t really— i never had that sort of freedom, as a trainee. or the time.” you were beyond embarrassed, your face surely the reddest it’s ever been. you were certain they were judging you right now; laughing silently at you but too polite to show it. a room full of grown men and you, the only girl, the newest, youngest member, had proven yourself to be even less mature than you already knew they thought you were. you waited for someone to break; to laugh at you or mock you or finally admit that you didn’t belong here after all.

but they didn’t. no one said anything. johnny’s grip on your waist tightened.

“wow,” mark finally broke the silence. “that’s— fuck, that’s precious.”

you looked up in time to catch the glare yuta threw at him. “it is?” you asked. “it’s not— it’s not bad?”

“of course it’s not bad,” johnny breathed. his breath was hot on your neck, making you shiver. you felt his smile against your skin as he recognised your sensitivity. “you’re such a good girl, y/n. we always knew it.”

your mouth opened and closed, words lost on you. johnny’s hand found your thigh and gently squeezed the soft flesh. “we’ve been waiting to have someone like you in the group for a long, long time.”

“i—” your voice broke a little, cracking under the weight of their gazes on you. “really?” you squeaked.

a large, warm hand wrapped around your calf. you turned your head, making a noise of surprise, to see jaehyun staring at you with a look in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “really,” he said lowly. his gaze shifted, catching johnny’s for a moment, then returning to you. he squeezed your leg gently. “you’re really something,” he smiled. the tension in his neck as he swallowed thickly told you he wanted to say something else.

tentatively, you reached down to place your hand over jaehyun’s, still resting on your leg. for a moment he seemed surprised — you hadn’t yet been the one to initiate physical contact with them, after all — but his expression quickly morphed into something else. johnny’s fingers dug into your thigh. “whatcha doing, hm?” he whispered in your ear. the low hum of his voice lit fire on your skin. “you like it when we touch you?”

“i…”

“she does,” jaehyun purred. “eager little slut.”

you knew you should be offended— he just called you a slut, after all, a terrible thing to say to anyone. but instead you felt your stomach twist, and an intense, pulsing sensation a little lower. without meaning to, you let out a soft, mewling sound that seemed to affect all the men in the room. “fuck,” you heard someone, you thought haechan, groan.

slowly johnny’s hand began to move further and further up your leg, closer and closer, like he was testing the waters— seeing how far he could go before you’d push back against him. but you didn’t— you curled further into his hold, into his touch. his hands were soft and comforting. it felt good. you felt special. that was all it was.

when his fingers grazed over your shorts, a fleeting touch of your pussy, you squeaked, squirming slightly in his hold. jaehyun grinned and you watched as his hand moved from your lower leg to your chest. gently he grabbed one of your boobs and you felt your stomach drop. this was the boldest they’d ever been. he wasn’t even hiding it or disgusting it as an accident— he was owning it. he was touching you, you liked it, and he owned it.

“so tiny,” he muttered. you weren’t sure if he was talking about you or the tight little tank top he was running his hands across— when he curled his finger around one of the straps, pulling it back and letting it snap against your skin, you decided it was probably both.

the room was quiet, everyone’s focus on you and the way you were responding to every move they made. if you’d been a little more aware, you’d have noticed them inching closer and closer to you from the moment johnny took you into his arms; but only when yuta grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back to meet his gaze by force, did you realise what was happening. they’d surrounded you. you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.

he released your hair and you looked back to meet johnny’s eyes. he smiled down at you, arms wrapped around your torso, and only then did you realise that his grip was tighter, firmer than before; like he was holding you in place. keeping you still.

testing your theory, you tried to struggle; to squirm. but you couldn’t. johnny wouldn’t let you. his brow furrowed. “keep being good,” he said, tone warning. “or this is gonna go very differently.”

you didn’t want to think about what he was implying; a few times he and doyoung had threatened to punish you or take you over their knee, but you’d assumed they were joking or just trying to scare you into obedience. but maybe they were serious— maybe you really were one wrong move away from finding out just what they were capable of. you shuddered at the thought.

you watched as haechan’s hand reached towards you and finally slipped under your shorts to touch your bare skin. his eyebrows raised. “no panties?” he grinned.

you heard some mumbles of surprise and johnny’s dick twitched against your back. “slut,” he muttered. “you planned this.”

“no,” you protested, shaking your head. “i didn’t.”

“don’t lie.” haechan’s voice was firm, eyes dark. you whined again and he pinched your clit, making you squirm. “stop moving,” he said.

he may be the youngest and one of the smaller members, but haechan always intimidated you. you’d seen him angry on a few occasions; watched the rage simmer beneath the surface. he keeps his cool, but you always wondered what happens on the other side of the line. now, though, as he eased a finger into your tight hole, you’d rather not find out.

“is she tight?” yuta asked and haechan nodded, groaning slightly. “so fucking tight,” he affirmed. “fucking virgin pussy.”

“let me see,” mark said. “take her shorts off.”

“good idea,” jaehyun grinned. haechan moved his hand away for a moment, allowing the elder to slide the shorts down your legs, finally revealing what they’d been waiting so painfully long to see.

“jesus,” mark breathed.

“perfect little pussy.” jaehyun’s eyes never left your tight, dripping hole. he looked ready to devour you. “john,” he said. “can you spread her open for us?”

you’d honestly forgotten johnny was there; his hold was so warm and familiar that you hardly noticed it. he chuckled against your neck, breath tickling your skin. you knew he felt the way you shivered in response and you felt his smile widen before he lifted his head to peer down at your naked bottom half. “certainly,” he said. “be a good girl and stay still, baby.”

then his big hands were on your thighs, spreading them further apart to expose you properly. you jumped slightly when he touched your pussy, squirming and gasping until he shushed you softly; then with each hand he spread your lips apart, allowing them a full view of your hole.

yuta was the first to speak. “ok,” he breathed. “i’m fucking her first.”

there were mild protests from the others, but no one made any real move to stop him; clearly, you figured, they all knew they’d get their turn. he made quick work of his jeans; unzipping them and pulling out his dick before you registered what was happening. he caught your eye, smiling slyly. “you want it?” he asked.

at that point, you should have said no. you should have put a stop to all this and run to taeyong, or doyoung, or someone because this was all wrong and you knew that. they knew that. but this had gone too far already and right now, all you cared about, all you could think about, was the hard, dripping cock in yuta’s hand. “yes,” you whispered.

his smile widened as he approached you, situating himself between your spread legs. “hold her still for me, john,” he said. johnny made a noise of agreement, moving his hands to hold your thighs firmly open.

though not the largest in the group, yuta was by no means small; just the sight of his cock throbbing and pulsating in his palm made you twitch nervously. once the tip was resting against your entrance, he gently cupped your face, pulling you forward to press a kiss to your nose. it was tender and sweet and the complete opposite to what was about to happen.

it took him a while to push all the way inside you; his size and your lack of experience made it difficult to fit. but he managed, eventually, with the help of johnny’s finger on your clit, making you wetter for his band mate to fuck you; and the feeling of his dick inside you was beyond description. you felt used, full, objectified in the best way. you felt like a doll; spread open for his cock and ready to take whatever he decided to give you. slowly he started to move; his arms rested on your thighs, holding you down and giving him leverage to fuck you. you threw your head back when he finally hit against your cervix, completely overwhelmed, and johnny took the chance to grab your neck, holding you in position looking up at him. he tilted his head. “feel good?” he asked.

a weak ‘nngh’ was all you could manage in response, but none of them faulted you for it. johnny grinned and released your neck only to shove his fingers into your mouth. you choked at the surprise intrusion but quickly got used to it; soon the large, thick fingers were a comforting presence and you sucked at them desperately as yuta continued to stretch you open. you looked back to face the others, and saw that the three not touching you all had their dicks in their hands, stroking themselves to the scene in front of them.

“no one cum,” johnny ordered the watching men. “she’s gonna take all our loads. aren’t you?”

you nodded, but at that moment, pussy stuffed and mouth full while the others watched, you’d have agreed to anything johnny said just for the fact that it was him that said it— and to hear the deep, approving “good girl”, that came in response.

yuta came quickly and without warning; he moaned and shouted something in japanese as he made two or three hard, final thrusts before you felt him release inside you. it felt warm, strangely. it felt nice.

he stayed on top of you for moment, breathing heavily, before pulling out and retreating. you felt warm liquid slowly spilling out of you for a moment, before johnny’s long finger pushed it back in. “good girls don’t waste their owners’ cum,” he muttered and you blushed, nuzzling into his neck.

“alright,” johnny said, “who’s next?”

“us.” you looked up to see mark and haechan approaching you and johnny raised an eyebrow. “both of you?” he asked.

“pussy and mouth,” mark said, like it was obvious. “duh.”

johnny hummed, pressing his face against yours. “can you take that, baby? two cocks at once?”

“of course she can,” haechan rolled his eyes. “she doesn’t have a choice.”

“take it easy, man,” jaehyun muttered, but the look of sheer delirium on your face told him just how much you were loving this— being used without a say in what happened to your own body. you knew they’d stop if you told them; but why would you?

johnny helped you lie down, head in his lap as haechan climbed on top of your chest. his dick was hard and leaking and right in your face; he slapped it against your cheek a few times before forcing it in.

you choked, eyes watering, but took it into your mouth obediently. you’d never done this before, so you let haechan take the lead, which he probably would have done anyway; you let him slam his dick against the back of your throat, again and again, ignoring you whining and choking around his cock. it was painful and uncomfortable and degrading but at the same time it somehow felt so fucking good. maybe it was the way johnny whispered praises in your ear, telling you how well you’re taking your members, what a good teammate you are. or maybe it was the feeling of mark sliding into your pussy easily, finally filling you up again.

he wasn’t as big as yuta, but especially to someone who was a virgin a few minutes ago, he was the furthest thing from small. he fucked you slower and more tenderly than the elder, but he gripped your hips with the same firm, unquestioned ownership of you that they all exuded. somehow he and haechan fell into the same rhythm, their cocks hitting the deepest parts of you at the same time and it was completely overwhelming. through watering eyes you stared up at haechan, barely making out his face through your tears. you moaned around his cock, struggling with his size and you felt your teeth graze against his shaft. he stopped for a moment, cursing under his breath before his palm collided with your face. it wasn’t particularly painful, but it left a lingering sting that floated among the multitudes of different sensations you were experiencing.

“don’t fucking bite me,” he growled, before his thrusts started again.

you heard johnny click his tongue, running his hands through your hair. “bad girl,” he chuckled. “can’t handle a dick in your mouth, huh?”

you whined, sound muffled by haechan’s cock and you heard the men laugh. “we’ll train her up,” haechan grinned. suddenly he grabbed your hair, pulling your head further down onto his dick as his thrusts sped up. his moans got louder and louder, turning to shouts before he cried out painfully and liquid filled your mouth. it tasted strange; salty and strange at the same time. when he pulled out, you saw white liquid coating his cock. “hold on, haechan,” johnny said. “she’ll lick you clean.”

haechan grinned, and then his dick was at your mouth once again. you swallowed the liquid in your mouth so you could open it again, letting him feed his cock between your lips. you licked and suckled at it dutifully, and when he pulled out again, his cock was clean. “good girl,” he purred.

the sight of you licking his friend’s cock clean seemed to push mark over the edge too; he grunted, cursing loudly before you felt yourself filling up again as he released inside you. panting heavily, he sat limply for a moment before pulling out.

the sight was beyond anything they could have dreamed of; their sweet youngest member, lying naked with her head in johnny’s lap and cum leaking out of her holes, too tired and fucked out to even close her legs. they wished they could keep you like this forever; spread open, used, and ready for more.

you were barely conscious by the time jaehyun pushed into you; by now the intense waves of pleasure were a distant sensation; his voice as he spoke to you clouded by the overwhelming emotions overtaking you. you felt his hands on your face, looking up to meet his kind but dark eyes and you gave him a weak smile.

he didn’t take long to cum, perhaps more out of mercy for you than anything else; before he released he pushed two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck and gag yourself on them while he chased his orgasm. he came with a yell, his final, heavy thrust finally pushing you over the edge too.

you felt yourself release around his dick, body convulsing with pleasure. you were completely delirious, screaming though your orgasm and clawing desperately at johnny’s arms. he talked you through it, voice low, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

when you finally finished, it proved too much to you; you went limp, completely numb as you blacked out. pulling out of you slowly, jaehyun looked uncertainly at johnny. the elder just smiled, stroking your hair. “she’s fine,” he said. “baby can’t handle that much pleasure yet.”

jaehyun smiled, staring down at your sleeping form and running a large hand up and down your thigh. he looked up, suddenly seeming troubled. “john, you didn’t get to…”

johnny laughed, shaking his head. “doesn’t matter. she needed me with her.”

jaehyun hummed, still staring quizzically at the elder, who shrugged. “it’s no big deal, jae,” he grinned. “she belongs to all of us now. i’ll get my turn.”

you woke up in bed hours later, drenched in sweat and desperate for johnny; you cried out for him, reaching into the darkness and hoping you’d find him there. when he finally walked into the room, coming to sit next to you, you were nearly in tears from how needy and empty you felt.

“johnny,” you whimpered again. “please.”

and get his turn he did.

-

thanks for the request! my first nct fic, hope it was good. i def got carried away lol. reblogs and comments appreciated, requests open! love🖤🖤🖤

JOHNNY: dominant. size kink. orgasm control. johnny’s biggest thrill comes from knowing he’s too much for you. too long, too thick, too deep. but still watching you take every inch like you were made for it. he teases you until you’re begging, smirking as your legs twitch and hips squirm under the weight of his palm. nothing makes him hornier than hearing you gasp when he first presses in, the way you whimper out his name in disbelief at how full you feel. he’ll coo in your ear, chuckling softly as he says, “you can handle it, baby. you always do.” he doesn’t move until you ask him to, and even then, he’s slow. dragging it out, making you beg for each thrust. he has a habit of overstimulating you without mercy. one orgasm isn’t enough. not for him. he needs to see how many times he can push you over the edge before you’re crying into the sheets. his favorite thing is holding you down after you’ve already come, just to keep fucking you with that same smooth rhythm, his fingers stroking over your overstimulated clit while he keeps whispering how good you’re doing for him. he uses pet names like they’re part of his rhythm. “good girl. just like that. give me another.” and he always gets it. eventually.

TAEYONG: dom-leaning switch. rope bondage. mirror sex. taeyong is all about control. but he’s delicate with it. he loves beautiful restraints: thick red rope across your thighs, wrists tied softly behind your back, the intricate knots resting gently against your skin like decoration. he takes his time, sometimes longer tying you up than actually fucking you, and murmurs about how pretty you look like this. he wants your trust. the way you surrender to him is what makes his cock twitch, not just the act itself. every inch of your body is his to explore when you’re like this, and he doesn’t waste the opportunity. he’ll edge you, overstimulate you, all while running soft fingers across the silk-tight ropes like he’s playing an instrument. he’s obsessed with seeing you. taeyong fucks you in front of mirrors as often as he fucks you on the bed. his hand fits perfectly around your jaw, tilting your face toward the reflection while he presses into you from behind. he whispers into your ear, asking what you see, forcing you to look at the way your body trembles every time he thrusts deep. his voice is quiet, but strict. “don’t look away.” the way your eyes flutter under his command has him groaning against your neck, fucking you harder just to keep that ruined expression in your reflection a little longer.

YUTA: degradation. hair pulling. breeding kink. yuta doesn’t fuck you like you’re fragile. he wants your makeup smudged, your voice gone from screaming his name, your legs shaking from how rough he gets when you beg for more. he’s vocal, sharp-tongued, and merciless. his dirty talk leans toward degradation, but never in a way that feels hollow. he calls you names because he knows it gets you wet. his hand is constantly in your hair, tugging your head back so he can spit in your mouth and tell you how much of a mess you are. “look at yourself. crying already? pathetic.” he says it with a smile, because he knows you love it. the breeding kink is constant, primal. he presses you into the mattress, body heavy over yours, murmuring about how good your pussy would look dripping with his cum. he doesn’t pull out. ever. not unless you beg for it. even then, he pretends he’s going to finish inside you just to watch your face twist in panic-pleasure. when he’s close, he wraps your legs around his waist, thrusts hard and deep, and groans about how tight you get when he says he’s going to fill you up. “that’s what you want, isn’t it? fuck. greedy little slut.” it’s filthy. it’s possessive. it’s addictive.

TEN: exhibitionism. mirror kink. shibari. ten likes being seen. he performs even in private. he ties you up and fucks you in front of a full-length mirror, hands on your thighs, eyes on your reflection. he loves the symmetry of it. the way your body trembles under his, the sounds you make, the glossy heat in your eyes. “watch us,” he whispers. “look how good we are together.” he gets off on your reactions. on how messy he can make you. on how desperate your moans sound bouncing off the mirror, ricocheting through the room. his love for rope isn’t just about restraint. it’s about art. he takes his time with the knots, lacing them across your chest and thighs like you’re his canvas. it’s ritualistic, almost reverent. he makes you pose for him after, still tied up, naked and exposed. sometimes he doesn’t even fuck you right away. he just watches you squirm, blush, twitch under his gaze. “you don’t even know how hot you look like this, do you?” when he finally takes you, it’s with all the buildup of a practiced routine. like he’s waited his whole life to ruin you in this exact way, at this exact angle, while you cry out in front of your own reflection.

DOYOUNG: sub-leaning switch. praise kink. overstimulation. doyoung is the type who blushes at praise but still begs for it. he thrives when you’re on top, hands pressed against his chest, hips rolling while you ride him slowly. he’s sensitive, vocal, and gets overwhelmed easily. but that’s part of the appeal. you can ruin him with soft whispers and a vibrator. he’ll hold your hips, mouth open in shock every time you move faster, moaning your name like he’s about to fall apart. when you kiss him and call him your good boy, he completely melts beneath you, clinging to your body as he fucks up into you with trembling desperation. he doesn’t know when to stop. if you push him past his limit, again and again he’ll cry for it. overstimulation is his favorite form of torture. you can make him come once, wait a few minutes, then wrap your lips around him again until he’s sobbing and shaking and whimpering about how it’s too much. his voice breaks in the prettiest ways. “please- fuck, i can’t- it’s too- too good, please.” you can drag another orgasm out of him just by stroking him slow while he cries. the more you praise him, the harder he comes.

KUN: service dom. impact play. soft control. kun doesn’t raise his voice. he doesn’t need to. his control is quiet, gentle, unwavering. he ties your wrists with velvet ribbons, kisses each one, and tells you to breathe through it. he touches you like he’s sculpting something out of you, coaxing your pleasure out with patience and precision. he loves making you come with his hands. thick fingers curling just right, knuckles slick, wrist steady. he watches your face the whole time, moaning softly when you arch into him, whispering things like “that’s it, baby. you’re doing so well. let go for me.” but there’s a rough edge under all that sweetness. when you beg for more, when you need it harder. he delivers. he likes spanking. his palm cracks against your ass, sharp and deliberate, followed by his fingers soothing the sting. “you can take it. i’ve got you.” he’ll press kisses to your shoulder blades while pushing your face into the mattress, fucking you slow but deep, each thrust punctuated by a soft command. kun doesn’t fuck to dominate. he fucks to protect, to possess, to worship you with discipline. and when it’s over, he unties you with shaking hands, holds you in his lap, and murmurs about how beautiful you looked falling apart for him.

JAEHYUN: exhibitionism. mirror sex. choking. jaehyun doesn’t mind being watched. in fact, he likes it. he has no problem dragging you into the nearest empty room during an event, lifting your dress and bending you over the counter while he keeps one hand in your mouth and the other down your panties. he’s rough but quiet, eyes flicking toward the door every time someone walks by outside. it makes his cock twitch. the thrill of getting caught, of being inside you with your moans muffled into his shoulder, is a drug he can’t quit. he’s obsessed with mirrors. jaehyun pulls you into hotel bathrooms, sits you on the counter, and fucks you while making you watch. his hand curls around your throat, thumb resting gently against your pulse while he groans about how pretty you look like this. “look. eyes on the mirror. don’t hide from me.” his grip tightens just enough to make you lightheaded, just enough to make your legs tremble around him. his voice gets lower, more breathless, the closer he gets. and when you finally meet his eyes in the glass, he loses it completely.

WINWIN: power bottom. size kink. temperature play. winwin is quiet, but he’s not submissive. he lets you take the lead, sure, but it’s an illusion. he’s in control without needing to say it. when he lies back on the bed, legs spread, cock flushed and hard between his thighs, he doesn’t ask you to ride him. he waits. confident you’ll give in. and when you do, when you sink down on him and he stretches you open inch by inch, he smiles. slow, smug, lazy. “you needed it that bad, huh?” he doesn’t move at first. lets you fuck yourself on him while he watches, barely lifting a finger, until the urge to take over becomes too much. he likes temperature play. dragging an ice  cube down your chest while you’re tied up. warming his hands under your shirt and sliding them between your legs until you whimper. the contrast makes him hard. he likes watching you flinch, gasp, beg for more. and when he finally fucks you properly. hips snapping up to meet yours, hands gripping your waist, voice low in your ear. it’s with all the power he’s been holding back. you’re never really in charge. you just think you are until he flips the script and leaves you shaking in his lap.

JUNGWOO: sub-leaning switch. service kink. begging. jungwoo is eager. not just to please you, but to be told exactly how to please you. he’s the type to kneel between your legs, wide eyes glancing up for approval, lips parted like he’s ready to worship. when you touch him. run your fingers through his hair, press his face where you need him. he moans so sweetly you almost forget how filthy it is. he eats you out like he’s starving. tongue slow, patient, reverent. it’s not just about making you come. it’s about making you feel adored, like your pleasure is sacred and his only purpose is to serve. he’ll beg, softly at first-“please let me taste you, please let me make you feel good.”but the longer you tease him, the more desperate he gets. his voice breaks when you make him wait. when he’s tied to the bed, cock leaking and untouched, watching you take care of yourself instead, he practically cries for it. “i’ll do anything, anything you want, please-” and when you finally ride him, he thanks you. breathless and trembling, he holds your waist like it’s all he has left, whispering how perfect you feel and how lucky he is to be yours. he wants to be used. he wants to be ruined. he wants to be good for you.

XIAOJUN: praise kink. possessiveness. dirty talk. xiaojun fucks like he loves you and owns you at the same time. he praises you constantly. soft at first. “you’re doing so well,” “look at how perfect you take me”. but as he gets rougher, the praise turns desperate. “that’s right. take it. take all of it. fuck, you’re made for this.” he moans against your neck, his voice raw and open, hips moving in deep, full thrusts that leave you breathless. he makes you feel so wanted it’s dizzying. like you’re the only body he’s ever needed. but he gets jealous. possessive. if he sees someone else touching you, even innocently, he drags you back home and fucks you like he’s reclaiming something. his hands are firm on your hips, fingers digging in, his rhythm punishing but still filled with affection. “no one else gets to see you like this,” he says, thrusting harder, watching your face crumble beneath him. “say it. say you’re mine.” and you always do. because under all that filth is devotion. and when he kisses you after. sweaty, breathless, still inside you. it feels like you’ve been marked in more ways than one.

HENDERY:  roleplay. brat tamer. fear play (consensual). hendery’s playful in the most dangerous way. he’s the kind of guy who’ll start something in public. his hand on your thigh under the table, pressing against your panties with a smirk. and act innocent when you squirm. he’s into roleplay. likes scenarios where he pretends to be someone else. someone in charge. someone who caught you doing something bad and needs to teach you a lesson. he ties you up in character, calls you names with a twisted grin, fucks you deep while whispering the dirtiest things you’ve ever heard. it’s a game. but he plays to win. he’s interested in pushing boundaries. consensual fear play. the edge of danger, the illusion of something darker, the kind of sex that makes your heart race not just from pleasure but from the thrill of it. he’ll pin you down, growl threats you know he won’t follow through on, keep your wrists bound while he grinds against you slow and cruel. “you should’ve thought twice before teasing me.” and when it’s over, he always brings you back. soft kisses, warm blankets, a trembling apology that doesn’t really need to be said. because he knows how to take care of you. even when he’s being a monster.

MARK: dom. breeding kink. emotional degradation + praise. mark’s dominance doesn’t come from experience. it comes from instinct. from the way he reads your body. from how desperate you are, and how good it feels to finally give in when he takes control. he’s gentle with his words, rough with his hips, one hand gripping your waist while the other slides up to choke you soft. his favorite position is you on your back with your legs pinned to your chest. he likes being close. watching your face when he fucks you slow, then watching it fall apart when he starts pounding into you without mercy. and when you whimper that it’s too much, he only presses deeper. “you said you could take it. so take it.” mark’s a little twisted when he’s deep in it. he degrades you like he’s in love with you. voice shaking, forehead pressed to yours, cock throbbing inside. “look at you. can’t even think straight, huh? just want me to fill you up and fuck it out of you?” he has a breeding kink he’s shy about until you’re under him, whining and begging to be stuffed full. then he breaks. his thrusts get messier. his breath stutters. “gonna come in you. gonna ruin you.” and when he finally finishes, hips locked tight, he holds you there like he needs to stay inside. like his come in you means you’re his now. his voice shakes. his hands tremble. but the way he fills you? that’s deliberate.

RENJUN: possessive dom. dacryphilia. overstimulation. renjun likes control, but not in the way that screams for attention. it’s subtle. deliberate, precise. he reads you too well. the tilt of your head, the hitch in your breath, the tremble in your thighs when you’re trying to hold it. it turns him on to know he’s the only one who can push you there. he’s the type to have your legs locked around his waist, whispering in your ear about how no one else will ever fuck you this good. he doesn't raise his voice. he doesn’t have to. his words are sharp enough. his hips are relentless. and he likes it best when you’re crying for him. it’s not sadistic. he doesn’t want to hurt you. he wants to see you overwhelmed. body overstimulated, head spinning, tears clinging to your lashes while he kisses them away. “pretty when you cry,” he murmurs, voice breathless as he grinds deeper. he keeps going until your body can’t take it anymore. even then, he doesn’t stop. not until you’re sobbing into his neck and begging for mercy between orgasms. it’s not about being mean. it’s about being unforgettable. he’ll ruin you with a hand around your throat and a mouth full of praise. soft, sweet, and just cruel enough to keep you coming back.

JENO: primal dom. bondage. manhandling. jeno has the kind of strength that makes your breath catch. it’s not just physical, though the way he can throw you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing does something to you. it’s in how confidently he uses his body, how steady his grip is on your waist, how easily he pins your wrists above your head with one hand while the other trails down your thigh. he likes watching you struggle a little, like a caught thing. it makes him feral. especially when you act like you can handle it. he gets off on pushing your limits, both physically and mentally. just to see that moment when the fight leaves you, and all that’s left is need. he’s into restraints. leather cuffs, belts, thick rope tied quick and tight. he binds you because he wants your full attention. wants you squirming, helpless, panting into the pillow while he takes his time. every thrust is deliberate. every word is low and growled against your neck. “stay still. i didn’t say you could move.” if you act out, he’ll flip you onto your stomach and make you beg for forgiveness with your face in the sheets. his hands are everywhere. controlling, bruising, possessive. he marks what’s his and leaves you trembling for hours after.

HAECHAN: switch (dom-leaning). overstimulation. cockwarming. haechan doesn’t dominate with brute force. he does it with attitude. with a sharp tongue, a hand fisted in your hair, and the type of cocky smirk that tells you he’s already won. he’ll tease you until you’re shaking. hold you down and grind against you for what feels like hours, whispering shit like, “is this what you wanted? you’re so easy, it’s pathetic.” and the worst part is, you are. he makes you needy. makes you cling to him, beg for more, cry from how much he gives and how much he withholds. overstimulation is a game to him. you can’t come without permission, but once he gives it, he doesn’t stop. “again. you’re not done yet. not until you’re ruined.” but when he switches, it’s dangerous in a different way. he crawls into your lap and rides you slow, cockwarmingly slow, whining through gritted teeth while refusing to speed up. “you wanna come so bad, huh?” he gaslights you mid-thrust, calling you desperate even as he’s the one clenching down and crying from the pressure. he’s a brat when he bottoms. mouthy, teasing, bold. but always gives in eventually. especially if you break him the way he breaks you: slow, relentless, full of praise and punishment. no matter what role he’s in, he stays in control. he’s not just here to fuck. he’s here to fuck you up.

YANGYANG: switch. thigh riding. overstimulation. yangyang is greedy. greedy for your body, greedy for your attention, greedy for the way you fall apart when he keeps going after you’ve already come twice. he’s a switch in the truest sense. confident on top, cocky and in control, but absolutely down to be used if you take the lead. he’ll let you ride his thigh, one hand wrapped around your waist while the other traces circles over your clit. he grins when you gasp. “keep going. don’t stop until you come.” he loves watching you get off on him, loves how messy you get when you lose control. he’ll make you do it again. and again. until you can barely speak. he overstimulates you like it’s second nature. he won’t stop even when you start crying, not unless you say the word. “you’re okay,” he coos, even as his fingers keep pumping. “you can take it.” and he doesn’t ask you to make it pretty. he likes the tears, the broken sounds, the way your legs shake when he pushes one more orgasm out of you. his voice stays calm. smug. gentle. he makes it impossible to tell whether he’s being sweet or cruel. maybe both. either way, he’s not done until you are.

JAEMIN: corruption kink. praise and filth. aftercare obsession. jaemin gets off on making you fall apart. especially if you’ve never done this before. or if you’ve done it before, but never like this. he wants to hear you say it. how much better he is, how no one’s ever fucked you like he does. the idea of corrupting you makes him feral. he’s the kind of guy who’ll walk you through your first orgasm with soft praise and degrading filth in the same breath. “you feel that, baby? that’s your body begging for me. so sweet, so wet, so fucking perfect. no one else gets to see you like this.” and the more wrecked you look beneath him, the more obsessed he gets. he’s tender with his aftercare in a way that makes you ache. it’s almost jarring, how filthy his mouth is when he’s fucking you and how gently he wraps a blanket around your shoulders after. he brushes your hair back, wipes your tears away, kisses your fingers while you try to come down. “you did so good. i’m proud of you.” if he makes you cry during sex. overstimulation, rough words, the overwhelming feeling of being completely undone. he’ll cradle your face afterward like he’s never going to let go. the contradiction is addicting. you crave it before you even realize you do.

CHENLE: bratty switch. voyeurism. phone sex kink. chenle is cocky, loud, and doesn’t care who hears. if anything, he wants people to. he gets off on the idea that someone could catch him with his hand between your legs in a public place. bathroom stalls, the back of the van, against the wall of a dressing room with your moans muffled into his shirt. he doesn’t need full-on sex to get off. he just needs you to look at him the way you do when you're about to fall apart. he’ll whisper shit in your ear while you’re trying to keep a straight face in front of others. “you’re shaking. they can see that, you know.” he’s got a phone sex kink he doesn’t even try to hide. he calls you at night when he’s hard and whiny and too far away to do anything about it. “i can’t sleep. talk to me. tell me what you’re wearing.” his bratty energy comes out when he’s frustrated. when you tease him or hang up early or leave him hard on purpose. but he crumbles fast. if you moan his name and say you need him, he’s already rutting into his fist and gasping for breath. “fuck, i miss your pussy. i’d fuck you so good right now. i’d make you scream.” he’s a tease, but he breaks easily under the right touch.

JISUNG: obedient sub. hand kink. power exchange. jisung is all nerves and flushed cheeks at first, but he wants to give in. he’s just scared of getting it wrong. if you talk him through it. kiss his temple, tell him he’s doing well. he turns to mush in your hands. he follows orders with wide eyes and shaky breaths. “like this?” “am i doing okay?” he doesn’t want to take control. he wants you to take it from him. he’s most comfortable when he’s on his knees, hands behind his back, waiting for your next command. and when you praise him? he gets hard instantly. he has a hand kink he doesn’t understand but can’t deny. he stares when you touch him. trails your fingers down his chest, stroke his cock with slow, open-palmed movements, trace your thumb over his lips. it’s hypnotizing to him. you holding his jaw when he’s sucking you off. you gripping his hair when he moans too loud. you wrapping your fingers around his throat while he whimpers for more. he wants to be used. wants to make you feel good. and when he does? he’s glowing with pride, practically begging you to let him do it again.

SION: soft dom. oral fixation. possessive praise. sion wants to make you feel taken care of. physically, emotionally, and sexually. he has an oral fixation that’s more about intimacy than control. his lips find their way to your neck, your collarbone, your thighs, and finally between your legs like it’s instinct. he eats pussy like it’s a language he was born fluent in, like he’s worshiping something sacred. there’s no rush. he kisses your clit before he licks it. breathes in your scent with a low groan. and when your fingers tangle in his hair and you tell him not to stop, he moans into you like he’s the one coming. he’s a dom, but a gentle one. his possessiveness shows in how he speaks to you. soft, firm, with a hand around your waist and his voice warm in your ear. “mine. all mine. say it.” he’ll stroke your cheek, slide inside you slow, and tell you how good you’re doing with every thrust. even when he’s fucking you hard, his praise is constant. it’s obsessive in a way that feels safe. like he’d never let anyone else see you like this, touch you like this. when you fall apart for him, trembling under the weight of his body and his words, he kisses you through it. “so pretty when you break for me. you’re perfect. you’re mine.”

YUSHI: brat. teasing. light impact play. yushi knows exactly how hot he is, and he uses it to drive you insane. he’s mouthy, smug, always testing your patience. it’s a game to him. he’ll push your buttons with a cocky smile, roll his eyes when you get serious, and whine about your rules even as he breaks them. but the moment you pin him down, and tell him to stop? he folds. “i was just playing,” he says, but his voice is breathless, and his cock is hard, and he’s already spreading his legs wider. he wants to be punished. he just doesn’t want to admit it first. he thrives off teasing. if you take it slow. drag your fingers along his thighs, hover just above his dick, whisper filth in his ear. he’ll start squirming, fists clenching in the sheets. he begs with attitude, voice full of whines and curses. “fuck, just touch me already. what are you waiting for?” and when you finally give in, and ride him without mercy, his whole act shatters. he moans for it. cries for it. and when you ask him who owns him, he answers fast, no hesitation. “you. fuck, it’s you. only you.”

JAEHEE: quiet dom. restraint kink. voyeurism. jaehee is dangerous in the quietest way. he doesn’t raise his voice. he doesn’t need to. his dominance is calm, measured, almost clinical. he ties your hands behind your back and kisses your forehead before leaving the room. makes you wait on your knees, naked and aching, until he comes back and decides you’ve earned his touch. and when he touches you, it’s slow. focused. a single fingertip over your nipple, down your stomach, between your thighs. he learns your body like a study. not just what makes you cum, but what makes you beg. he has a voyeur streak he doesn’t talk about often. he loves watching you touch yourself while he sits back in a chair, legs spread, arms crossed, commanding every movement. “two fingers. no cuming yet.” he watches your body twitch and your breathing hitch with sharp, hungry eyes. if you disobey, he makes you do it again. and again. until you’re wrung out and ruined. when he finally fucks you, it’s possessive, purposeful, deep. “no one sees you like this but me,” he says, voice low as he wraps a hand around your throat and fucks you slow. “and no one ever will.”

RIKU: switch. overstimulation. praise + begging. riku might look quiet, but when he gets control, he’s unrelenting. he knows how to read your body. knows exactly when to slow down and when to ruin you. he’ll straddle your hips, pin your wrists gently above your head, and thrust deep and slow until you’re trembling under him. then he starts talking. “you feel that?” he asks, eyes locked on yours, voice low and dangerous. “you’re clenching like you want more. beg for it.” he loves the push and pull of control. when you try to take over, only for him to flip the script, hold you down, and fuck the fight right out of you. but riku breaks just as beautifully. if you edge him, ride him slow, kiss his throat and tell him how good he’s being. he starts falling apart. “please, please, don’t stop, i’m close..” he can’t handle your praise. his hips twitch when you call him perfect. his fingers dig into your waist when you say you own him like this. he’s vocal. messy. the kind of switch who wants to ruin and be ruined in the same night. whether he’s making you come over and over until you’re crying, or gasping through his third orgasm with tears in his eyes. he’s at his best when you’re both wrecked together.

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

“hey.”

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

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

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

soobin stared at you for a second before chuckling lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“soobin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“how many?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

well, that’s amazing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you’re up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

oh.

oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“are you sure?” he pressed further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

it definitely didn’t look easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

maybe thunder wasn’t so bad after all.

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

SOOBIN: soft dom & size kink soobin’s soft dom energy is unmatched. gentle voice, warm hands, and a quiet possessiveness that only comes out when you're under him, begging. he doesn’t rush; he guides you. he likes being in control, but in the softest way. holding your hips while you ride him, whispering “just like that, baby… you’re doing so good for me.” his strength is subtle. one arm around your waist, lifting you easily, flipping you over mid-moan without losing rhythm. he knows what you need before you say it. the moment your body starts to tremble, he’s all praise and soft kisses, telling you you’re his favorite girl in the world. his size kink is real and constant. he loves how small you feel under him, how your hand disappears against his chest, how your body trembles trying to take him all the way. he watches you stretch around him like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “look at how much you're taking, baby. so full of me already.” and when you try to move away or say it’s too much, he just kisses your temple and holds you tighter, rocking his hips slow and deep. “you can take it. i’ve got you.” it's not about wrecking you. it's about watching you surrender, knowing he’s the only one big enough, soft enough, perfect for you.

YEONJUN: cocky dom & public teasing yeonjun is a menace. cocky, flirtatious, always testing how far he can push you. he thrives off being in charge, but he wants you to fight a little first. if you brat him, he laughs. if you sass him, he smirks. and the second you drop your attitude, he’s pulling you into his lap, muttering “that’s more like it.” he loves edging you. hands between your thighs, lips on your neck, voice low in your ear: “you want me to stop or keep going, baby?” but he never lets you finish until you beg for it. he likes when you break. when you go from brat to babygirl with one good stroke. his favorite game? public teasing. slipping a hand under your skirt in the back of an uber. texting you instructions during dinner with friends. whispering “no panties today?” while squeezing your thigh under the table. he doesn’t even need to touch you to have you soaking. it’s the way he talks, how he leans in close, how he smirks like he knows you’ll cum later just from the memory. and when you do? he makes you say where it started. “was it when i touched you at the restaurant? or when i told you i’d fuck you in the elevator?” because yeonjun wants the world to know you’re his. without ever having to say it out loud.

BEOMGYU: brat tamer & degradation beomgyu loves when you challenge him. it gives him permission to break you. if you tease him, roll your eyes, or play innocent, he plays along… at first. but the moment he snaps, it’s over. he’ll flip you over, pull your hair, hiss in your ear “still feelin’ bold now, princess?” he’s the brat tamer that laughs while spanking you, making you say please before you get even a finger. and when you cry? it turns him on more. he’ll mock your sobs, stroke your cheek, and coo “aw, poor thing… all that attitude for what?” he doesn’t need you obedient. he needs you ruined. degradation gets him going. he calls you names with a smile, making it somehow worse. “my dumb little slut,” he purrs while pounding into you, one hand around your throat. but there’s a twist: he loves you. and after he’s made you sob and beg and cum until your legs give out, he’s pulling you into his arms, voice soft: “did so good, baby. you’re perfect.” the contrast is addictive. he breaks you down with cruel words, only to put you back together with the gentlest touch. he wants you to remember: no matter how mean he gets in bed… he always loves you hardest after.

TAEHYUN: obedience kink & intellectual domination taehyun doesn’t have to yell, beg, or tease. he dominates with silence, precision, and control. his favorite thing is obedience. watching you follow instructions without question. he’ll tell you where to sit, how to touch yourself, when to cum. “hands behind your back. don’t move.” and the moment you obey? he rewards you with his full attention. slow touches, deep strokes, whispered praise between filthy commands. he doesn’t break his composure until you do. and when you finally start begging, sobbing, clinging to him? that’s when he lets go, murmuring “such a good girl. look how far you’ve come.” his kink runs deeper than physical. he’s into mental control. power over your mind, your reactions, your thoughts. he’ll ask you questions while fucking you slow: “what’s my name?” “who do you belong to?” and if you stutter or hesitate, he stops, smirks, makes you say it again. he wants your focus, your desperation, your submission. and when he has it? he’s relentless. but he’s not cold. his aftercare is detailed, structured, full of reassurance. because for taehyun, domination is an exchange. you give him your body and mind… and he gives you everything in return.

HUENING KAI: worship kink & overstimulation kai is the kind of lover who sees your body like a gift. and his biggest kink is worship. he’ll spend hours learning what makes you squirm, where to kiss, how to hold you just right. he’s obsessed with soft skin, shaky moans, the way you cling to him when he’s being sweet and rough. he kisses your stretch marks, moans when you ride him, holds your hand through every orgasm like he’s never been this close to anyone before. “you’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. “please… let me make you feel good again.” he doesn’t stop after one. he’ll overstimulate you with kisses, fingers, toys. whatever you’ll let him use. your thighs twitch, your body trembles, you say “i can’t”. and he only gets softer. “you can, baby. i’ve got you.” he talks you through every second, praising you while you fall apart over and over. he wants to be too much. not because he’s cruel, but because he wants to give you more pleasure than anyone ever has. and when you’re done. messy, limp, barely able to speak. he pulls you against his chest and rocks you gently, whispering “you’re safe. i love you. you did so good for me.”

SOOBIN: 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖿 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 h𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁. 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗎𝗉. “𝖻𝖺𝖻𝖾..” 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. “𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. “𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗀𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐.” 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝖼𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. “𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗎𝗇?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽. “𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇, 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻.” 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎. “𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗐𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗀𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄, 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇, 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌. “𝗁𝗎𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆. “𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐.. 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗍, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗅 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗌. 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖽. 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍. “𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒.

“𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝗁𝗎𝗇. 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝗂 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝗍.” 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. “𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗑?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗇. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽’𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄. “𝖺𝗅𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗇.” 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒, 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗉. 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌, 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗑 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽. 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇, 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝖺𝗇𝗌. 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. “𝗉-𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾.. 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗂𝗇” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗎𝗇𝗍. 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌. 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽

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YEONJUN: 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 10𝗉𝗆, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖺 7/11 𝗋𝗎𝗇, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗉𝖾𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄. 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗋𝗎𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖺. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗉𝗒. 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗉𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾. “𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍?” 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆. “𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌.” 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌.

𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖺𝗋. 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗒𝖾𝗈𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽. 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝗌𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾. “𝗂 𝖽𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.” 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾. “𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿, 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖺, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖺 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒. 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋, 𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗍, 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍. 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁. “𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾..” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗌. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗒, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗑𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗐. 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. “𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝗄𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗌𝗈. 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄. 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌.

𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌. “𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎? 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗋?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. “𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝖾.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. “𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. “𝗂-𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺..” 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗐𝖾𝗋. “ i 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈..” 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋s, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽. 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗋𝗒, 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗒, 𝗐𝖾𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍, 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗌𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗍. “𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗐. 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖽. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒. 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. “𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾? 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍.” 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄.

“𝗂 𝖽𝗈..” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖺, 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗌. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍. 𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌. 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗀𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗇𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗎𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽, 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 (𝗂𝗇) 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺, 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐.

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BEOMGYU: 𝖻𝖾𝗈𝗆𝗀𝗒𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖳𝖨𝖱𝖤𝖣 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗎𝗉. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾. “𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗐𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒. “𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗍.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌. 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇y 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗍. “𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗇𝖺𝗉 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾? 𝗂 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝗈 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽’𝗏𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽. 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗑𝗒.

𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖿𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗍. 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻 𝗎𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝗅𝖾, 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿. 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋. 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗎𝗉, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖼 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. “𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗐𝖾 𝗆𝖾?” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽. “𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅..” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖼𝗄. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇. “𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍-” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. “𝗇𝗈, 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈.. 𝗒𝗄..” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍. “𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁 𝗈𝗄𝖺𝗒.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝖺𝗋𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗆.

“𝗇𝗈 𝗂 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗍, 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈.” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗎𝗉, 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽, 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝖿or 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗒. 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽. “𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄.. 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒.” 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗈𝗐. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝖿, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗁. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗌𝖿𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌. 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗄. 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌.

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TAEHYUN: 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 3:00 𝖺.𝗆. 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄. “𝗂 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗎𝗍. 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗉 𝗃𝖺𝗐𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗇.

𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖺𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗏𝖾𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗅𝖺𝗆𝗉, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. “𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗆𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍.

𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇. 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝖺𝖾𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗉, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎. “𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖾,” 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗒. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇. 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

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HUENING KAI: 𝗁𝗎𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝖺𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗒 𝗂𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗄𝖺𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗒𝖾𝗍. “𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

𝗄𝖺𝗂’𝗌 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾’𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗂𝖼 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋, 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝖺𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝖽𝗆𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐, 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖾𝗍. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀. 𝗄𝖺𝗂 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. “𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅” 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗇𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇, 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽.

𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗋. 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗂𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝗄𝖺𝗂’𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝗐 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾, 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅, 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. “𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗄𝖺𝗂 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽.

The apartment is quiet when you finally come home.

Way too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes your chest feel heavier than your bag slung over your shoulder, heavier than the late hour blinking back at you on the microwave clock.

Stepping inside, you make sure to lock the door behind you. You take off your shoes, drop your keys into the bowl, and glance toward the couch.

He’s sitting there, asleep—just barely. Half curled into the throw blanket, one arm slung over the back of the couch like he was waiting for you but gave up halfway through.

You stand there longer than you intend to, just wanting to watch him for a moment. He stirs before you can say anything, lashes fluttering, voice groggy.

"You're late again..." Soobin grumbles. It wasn't accusatory, just worn thin.

You give him a small apologetic smile. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't even get a lunch break today."

Soobin nods and tries to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He looks toward the TV, and the silence stretches on longer than you'd like. With Soobin's recent comeback promotions and your new late-night shifts at the office, quality time together was few and far between.

Even when you managed to spend time together, it was never just the two of you. There were always friends around, always the other members. Never a moment that felt truly yours—never a chance to just be alone with Soobin.

And still, he loved you with a quiet kind of devotion. Soobin would wait up long past midnight just for the quiet privilege of walking you to bed. Even the smallest moment alone with you was worth losing sleep over.

You were so used to running—meeting quotas, ticking boxes, always being on—that you hadn’t noticed how little of yourself you’d given him lately. Not your stories, not your softness. Not your time.

And apparently not even your memory for important days, like today.

You realize it the moment your eyes flick toward the calendar on the fridge. The date. Your heart sinks.

"Shit," you breathe. "Our anniversary..."

Soobin doesn’t even flinch. He just watches you quietly, eyes soft but ridden with exhaustion.

Your own eyes shift down to the uneaten container of food and unopened bottle of wine on the kitchen table—he waited to eat.

"You didn't have to wait."

He responds quickly. "I wanted to." Soobin doesn't say for you, but it's written all over his face. He'd do anything to savor a moment with you.

"I am so sorry, Binnie," you're barely able to get out. "I care about you so much. I would never..."

You feel a twist of guilt settle in your stomach, but he doesn’t pile on. Nor does he guilt you. That’s not who Soobin is.

“You didn’t forget because you don’t care,” he says softly. “I know you. You just… never forget things like that. I know how overwhelmed you've been.”

Soobin doesn’t say more. He just lifts the blanket, a wordless invitation smoothed between the wrinkles in the couch cushions. When you lie down beside him, it’s quiet again. The kind that’s warm this time—full of unspoken things and shared breath. His arms curl around you instinctively. He presses his face into your neck like he’s been holding in the need to feel you all week.

"I hate this," he breathes out, almost like he's embarrassed to say it. "Hate only seeing you like this."

You swallow hard, because you feel it too. You've never been good at this. Never been good at showing Soobin just how close you want—no, need—to be near him.

You try to apologize. To say something, anything about work. About your stupid boss, the lack of breaks, the lack of appreciation, the unpaid overtime.

And he lets you ramble on. Because this is his favorite thing in the entire world—hearing your sweet voice talking about your day, getting to hold you while you do it. His eyes are sparkling and trained on your face, attention undivided as you vent. Soobin's heart thunders beneath his rib cage.

You’re halfway through telling him all the messy details—words spilling too fast, casual but unfocused, like you’re trying to outrun your own exhaustion. There’s a thin sheen of energy in your voice, but it’s cracked at the edges. You yawn mid-sentence, barely stifling it behind the back of your hand.

Soobin notices the way you press on like you aren't seconds from collapsing. He always does.

You brush it off like you usually do, reaching for a water bottle on the coffee table, already moving on to the next thought. But before you can, Soobin gently lays his hand over yours.

“You’re tired.”

You blink at him. “I’m fine.”

“You come home and talk like you haven’t breathed in hours," he chuckles through a sigh. There’s no judgment in his voice, just a quiet hurt.

That makes you stop. Not because you disagree, but because he said it like he’s been holding it in for too long. You never really knew how to be present with him. Even in times like this, when you knew he needed it most.

He sits up straight, shifting his body to face you fully. His hand doesn’t leave yours.

“I know you don’t like stopping. I know being tired makes you feel like you’re falling behind. But I promise it's okay to slow down once in a while.”

"Binnie..." Your voice trails off.

“You didn’t forget on purpose,” he says again, because he needs you to believe it. “But I still need you. I still want today to matter. Even if it’s just here, like this.”

His voice dips, eyes searching yours. "I know we've both been working a lot. But to be honest, this has been really killing me. Can't we just take our time tonight?"

And then he’s pulling you in—slowly, gently—his arms around you. The kind of embrace that doesn’t demand anything, only offers.

You don’t fight it, don't say anything. You just let yourself sink into his chest, right into the warmth of him. It’s the only place where you don’t have to be composed or efficient or fine. You just needed to be his.

His hand slides up your back. “Just… be here,” he murmurs into your hair. “For a little while.”

And for once, you let yourself stay still. His lips brush the crown of your head, barely there.

You feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your cheek, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He doesn’t rush you. But when you tilt your head up to look at him, his eyes are already on you. Warm and desperate. It’s not lust, not at first. It’s pure longing.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye like he’s trying to memorize you. You can’t help but lean into his angelic touch. Then his mouth is on yours. A slow and needy kiss that says I’ve missed you, stay forever.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back even as his fingers slip under your shirt, testing you, as if he’s asking for permission with every touch.

You give it with ease.

When you shift into his lap, straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck, the ache of it all hits him.

Soobin holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear again. His tongue is pressed between your lips, scaling every inch of your mouth that it can reach. An exasperated moan leaves you in a low sigh, and he swallows it down greedily. You unravel against one another, piece by piece.

The growing tightness in Soobin's pants presses firmly against you. You were beginning to throb for him and his attention alone. No distractions or distance, just this—focused and intentional.

Even though your lips moved unhurriedly, you have to pull away for air. But he doesn't let you escape so easily, keeping his forehead pressed firm against your own.

Soobin wants your attention on nothing but him tonight, that’s a promise he kept for himself. Before your mind can race, he's rubbing circles with his thumb over your leggings, stealing your mind away from stress and thoughts of work, locking them away where they’d be forced to put Soobin at the forefront.

Your leggings, usually an inconvenient barrier, were completely soaked through to the skin. It left Soobin no problem in rubbing every sensitive spot you yearned for him to reach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. "Fuck, been needing you so bad. Been so stressed out." His eyes are trained on the outline of your folds, your cunt basically sucking in the soaked fabric and begging for his finger to follow suit. He wondered just how well you would suck his cock in if you were dripping and swelling like this already.

He groans loudly without remiss, throaty and strained, head dropping against your shoulder in self-control.

He continues to rub you lovingly, tearing his gaze from between your thighs to your face, smiling at the blush blooming across your nose and cheeks. His eyes flood with warmth when he speaks. "I want to do something."

“I’ll do anything,” you answer to him like you always have. Your time, your mind, your soul—he’s always had access to all of it, whenever he wanted.

Soobin’s smile spreads wide across his face, unable to contain it. His hands grip your hips before slipping beneath your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head with care.

Your breath catches. He looks almost shy when he speaks again.

“Can I just… stay inside you tonight?” His voice is hushed and reverent. “I don’t want to rush. I just—want to be close.”

A nod is all you need to deliver him. His hands are gripping just beneath your ass, standing up from the couch as he holds you. Your legs lock around his waist, keeping him close amidst the trek to your shared bedroom.

You noticed how deliberate Soobin was tonight—every step he took toward the bed felt endless. And when he finally lays you down against the soft cotton sheets, it’s like the world exhales. For the first time in a long time, you feel breathtakingly alive.

His movements flow into each other, rewriting time just to make this moment last longer. The only moment he disconnects himself from you his to peel off his own t-shirt. Your clothes are stripped from your body as well, more carefully than ever. Tender fingers work at the hem of your leggings, dragging them down your goose-bump ridden skin.

Soobin's lips are the only things moving quickly, wanting to feel your warm skin against them. He's kissing a trail across your chest, down your stomach, breath sucking in at the laced panties staring back at him.

The black material is sticky, soaked, and completely lost between your folds. Your head rested gently against a pillow slightly cocked to the side, peering down at him through hooded eyelids. He was so beautiful. All the time in the world belonged to you two.

"Mm, fuck baby," you're already whining out. Fuck these new schedules. Fuck your late nights. This is what you've both been denied for too long.

Large hands splayed across the curvature of your hips, gripping the flesh and securing you in place. Between your legs, he helped himself to one long, and slow drag of his tongue up your cunt. He breathed you in, fabric and all, with greed. It felt like a reward for the time he'd spent patiently craving for your presence.

Tender teeth got hold of your panties, dragging them halfway down your legs. A chill shoots up through you, his teeth grazing your inner thigh just enough. Soobin's fingers took over, sliding the material the rest of the way off.

One more lewd kiss against your cunt, this one hard and claiming, and he's up on his knees removing his sweatpants and underwear just as painfully slow. You'd never felt so prepared for Soobin in your entire relationship. Thighs and sheets stained with splotches of your sweet arousal, out of control.

Now fully undressed and erect against his toned stomach, Soobin takes his place next to you on the bed. He's propped up, back against the headboard, looking at you expectantly.

"Come here," his voice is so careful as he pats his lap. His voice holds the kind of care reserved for precious things.

You swing a leg over his waist with his help, straddling him where he sits. Soobin is silent, but his face says everything. His chin pressed to his chest as he looks between your legs, lips drawn rough between his teeth.

He keeps his hands at your waistline, lifting his hips just enough to align himself with your sopping entrance. You both hiss softly as the head of his cock slides against your folds, hot and thick. But he doesn’t push in just yet. He’s waiting for you again, asking for permission.

“Can I?” he whispers, even though you’ve already said yes in every way that counts.

You nod and sink down slowly, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. Neither of you moves. You just sit there, wrapped around him, buried in each other.

Your walls clench instinctively, and he emits a broken groan. But he doesn’t move, he doesn't fuck up into you—just presses his face into the crook of your neck and breathes.

This isn’t about sex for either of you. It’s about connection. Closeness. The ache to feel like you still belong to each other. Skin on skin, hearts syncing with every breath, you melt together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

Soobin stays nestled inside your warmth for so long that you begin to lose track of time. His hands draw lazy circles over your back, his lips brushing your shoulder in silent worship. Your arms hang around his neck, holding him close. Every now and then, your walls flutter around him, and he exhales a quiet curse into your skin.

Every moment spent inside you is marked by a kiss—some soft and delicate, others deep and bruising, left like claims on your neck. Soobin's voice is hushed, whispering over and over how much he adores you. His hands roam your body like he's rediscovering it all over again, tracing every dip, outlining the shape of you with his touch. He’s etching you into him.

Eventually, the stillness turns to tension. You shift your hips just slightly and feel him twitch inside you. His breath hitches, and you notice.

“Don’t do that,” Soobin murmurs, voice taught with restraint.

Your faces are pressed close, cheek to cheek. He can feel the graze of your hardened nipples against his chest, your shaky, uneven moans fanning hot against his ear. And suddenly, he’s entirely too aware of you—of how impossibly tight and perfect your body feels around him, like you were made to fit just like this.

"Sorry, Binne." You don’t mean for it to come out as a whimper, but it slips, drenched in need. “I’m just so full…”

You try to remain still, but your eyes are already glassy with want. And when your lips find his again, more desperate this time, he gives in.

He starts to move, gently at first. Rolling his hips into yours like it’s the first time all over again. You can tell he's afraid to shatter the moment, but can’t help needing you more.

Soobin's hand finds your hair, gripping firmly—not to dominate, but to really see you. He pulls back just enough to watch your face, to pass every wave of pleasure back and forth between your eyes. He makes love to you like he’s savoring it, dragging his cock in and out at the perfect angle, hitting your g-spot again and again with a patience that feels more like devotion than control.

But it’s not enough, not with how he feels inside you. How his cock stretches you open just right, how his eyes celebrate every inch of you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

So you shift again—this time intentionally—lifting your hips just slightly before sinking back down. The friction makes your mouth fall open, a soft moan filling the air.

Soobin groans, his hands flying to your waist. “Baby…”

But you’re already moving again. A slow, teasing roll of your hips that pulls breathless curses from his lips. Your hands brace against his chest as you rise onto your knees and start to bounce—gently, at first, letting yourself adjust, letting the stretch fill you again and again. His cock drags along your walls in the most maddening way, kissing your sweet spot again and again.

His fingers dig into your sides, but he doesn’t stop you. He wouldn't dare. Instead, Soobin just watches you with his lips parted, chest rising and falling with every bounce. The expression on his face is pure awe. He can’t believe this is real. Spending time with you has never felt this heavenly. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, voice trembling as your thighs work to keep the pace. “So big…”

He sits up more to meet you halfway, arms wrapping around your waist as his mouth finds your chest—kissing, sucking, biting gently at your sensitive skin. Every time you sink down, his cock hits deeper, and the pleasure tightens in your belly like a fuse burning too close to the edge

“Just like that,” he breathes, kissing up your throat. “You ride me so well, baby. So fucking good for me…”

Your movements grow faster, more desperate, chasing the high together. Each bounce has you both gasping, moaning, gripping onto each other like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

His hands slide up your back, anchoring you to him, and when your forehead presses to his, his voice is barely audible.

“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” Soobin’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you squeezing tight around him. The sudden surge of pleasure makes your entire body jolt—your thighs trembling, your rhythm faltering.

“F–fuck!” he cries, his voice cracking as his core tightens beneath you. One hand claws at your back, desperate to ground himself, while the other keeps working your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge with each drawn-out stroke.

Your body trembles in his lap, chest heaving as you ride the crest of sensation. His name leaves your lips in a gasp, hips stuttering as you start to unravel for him. But Soobin doesn’t let up—he leans in, kissing you fervently. His voice is gravelly in your ear.

“That’s it, baby… you’re doing so good. Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

And you do—your whole body shaking as pleasure rips through you, fluttering tight around him, squeezing him so perfectly he groans through gritted teeth. Your forehead drops against his shoulder, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. Soobin holds you through it, murmuring praise into your hair, letting you ride the waves until your hips finally still.

But he’s still hard, still tucked deep inside you. You blink, dazed, and meet his eyes.

“Soobin—”

“Not done,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. “Let me love you a little longer.”

He shifts, lifting you slightly before guiding you down onto your back, never slipping out. His body settles over yours, and he kisses you so slowly you forget how to breathe. It’s not rushed, none of this was. He wants to remember every expression and sound you make beneath him.

Soobin starts to move again, hips rolling deep, cock gliding into you with a drag that has your toes curling. Each thrust is slow yet hard, filling you to the brim. He's making sure you'll feel him for days.

“Still so wet,” he whispers, voice shaking from restraint. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

You nod with teary eyes, hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to fuck you just a little harder—still slow and sensual, but with the kind of focused passion that makes your whole body scream.

His lips find your neck again, then your jaw, then your mouth, speaking softly with his mouth pressed on yours. “Want you to feel everything, baby. Want you to remember this whenever our schedules are busy.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, clutching at him.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he promises instantly, fucking into you with a little more urgency. “I’m right here. You’re mine.”

You moan his name again as he rocks into you, shifting his angle just slightly to hit your g-spot head-on. The overstimulation begins to take you over. Your back arches off the bed, and he catches you with one arm wrapped beneath you, pressing your bodies flush together, like even air between you would be too much distance.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, watching your face. “So good for me.”

You barely manage to choke out a response. You’re too full, too overwhelmed, and too wrapped up in the heat of his body and the impulse in his gaze.

He slows again as he nears the edge, you for a second time that night. Thrusts going deeper, heavier, until you’re clutching his hair, pulling him closer, whispering into his ear, “I want you to cum inside.”

Soobin groans deep in his chest at your admission and presses his forehead to yours, breathing unevenly.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

It only takes a few more slow, grinding thrusts before he’s burying himself to the hilt and pulsing inside you, arms shaking as he holds you close. His lips tremble against yours, his moans drawn out and desperate as he fills you. The inappropriate sounds quickly have your own, blinding orgasm flowing from you with ease.

He still doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he kisses you again, even sweeter, before shifting both of you onto your sides, tangled together, still joined.

You’re panting, but your heart is calm. You feel full in every way, wrapped in his warmth, your body and soul entirely his. Soobin strokes your hair, nose brushing your cheek.

“Stay just like this,” he whispers. “Let me keep you.”

You nod, one leg hiked over his hip, arms tucked against his chest. “Don’t let go.”

“Never,” he murmurs, breath hitching when your walls flutter again. “Fuck. You’re still gripping me so tight…”

You press your face into his neck, smiling softly. “That’s ‘cause I want you to stay.”

He chuckles, fingers tracing your spine. “Then I will. All night, baby. However long you’ll have me.”

You both fall quiet, still connected, warmth shared between flesh. The room feels sacred, filled with love, comfort, and the kind of silence that means everything. You make a mental note to call out of work the next morning.

Soobin stays inside you until you’re both asleep—bodies tangled, time slowed, nothing left to say but everything left to feel.

tags: @bunnysoonie @zznblr @twilght-talks @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @another-lemon-tree @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn

Choi Yeonjun could coax an orgasm out of you like no other.

Powerful, blinding, earth-shattering climaxes that left your sensitive body trembling and your mind floating, all while the silver chain around his neck swung low and draped over your skin, marking you as his.

The bite of his bottom lip between his teeth and the scrunch of his forehead, taut with lust. The kiss of his lips to your cheek as your eyes flutter open, drawing light and reality back in. And finally, the slow drag of his hips as he exits your body.

Then he stands up from the bed and puts his clothes back on, already facing the door.

"So I'll text you tomorrow?" Always Yeonjun's last words, barely giving you time to come back to yourself before he's out of your bedroom.

This was the unfortunate nature of your friendship with Yeonjun. Or whatever a sane person might call the predicament you'd found yourselves in. A situationship. A fuckship. A please-don’t-let-me-be-the-only-one-feeling-like-this-ship.

The next day drags on like usual, but this time, you find yourself dreading it—dreading the moment you’ll have to feign a smile for Yeonjun again. He’s already waiting for you at the end of the street like always, ready to walk into your friend’s apartment by your side with another late night ahead.

His arm is naturally slung over your shoulder, keeping you to him, as you greet everyone inside. The proximity never fails to mess with your head. He was always like this around everyone. Touching you, teasing you, making flirtatious remarks that would leave your cheeks rosy. And somehow, more nights than not, it ends with you folded in half beneath him.

You know all too well how it goes. He’d say and do all the right things, painting a picture so perfect it almost felt real. For a moment, it would make sense. Like he wanted you the way you wanted him. Then he’d zip up his pants and leave.

But everyone saw it tonight.

The way Yeonjun stands just a little extra close to you. How your drinks were always shared. His fingers sometimes finding your leg under the table like the flesh of your thigh was calling to him, inviting him to stake his claim.

You hear someone—probably Beomgyu—joke in your direction. “Just fuck already.”

While you choke on your drink, Yeonjun doesn't even blink. “Who says we haven’t?”

The group howled. You laughed too. But you didn’t look at him, not really anyway, afraid he'd catch the frown evident on your face.

There was always a line neither of you dared cross. In public, you let the world think it was just a little playful recklessness.

Behind closed doors, it was different.

He touched you like worship. Fucked you like he was starved—afraid you’d vanish the moment he stopped. He’d murmur things against your skin you weren’t supposed to remember, call you his, tell you how good you were, how only you made him feel like this. You’d cling to his shoulders like you believed it, too.

Lately, after those doors closed, Yeonjun had been acting off. Sex was still intense. Mind-numbing, even.

Yet something would shift the moment he came. How he'd untangled himself from your limbs like it hurt. The way he whispered a soft “Later,” like he was trying not to say something else.

He never used to leave so fast. You never used to care. Not until the cold, empty space next to you began begging to be filled with his warmth again. You wish you'd known what changed.

So when Yeonjun asks if you want to go upstairs, just the two of you, you don’t even question it. The apartment is too crowded, too warm, the buzz in your chest a little too strong to ignore. You nod, letting him lead the way, even though you already know how it’s going to end.

It only takes mere minutes before you're both stripped down to your undergarments, with you face down in the bed as he traces your skin like a canvas.

Yeonjun is straddling your thighs, admiring every inch of your body lying on your stomach before him. His fingers begin just behind your ear, tucking some hair away. Slowly they drag further down your skin—neck, shoulder, spine cascading with goosebumps, waist, hips, the plump skin of your ass and the lacey material that hugged it.

He finally grips you with both his hands, squeezing tightly before bending over your body and biting ever so softly on your earlobe. Your thighs press together, desire pooling in your thin panties already.

Then his voice is whispy and needy against your cheek. “You feel like home to me. I could look at you like this forever.”

It’s unclear what about this that makes you snap. But you’ve had enough being misled, enough of the unkept promises.

“You always say things like that when we're like this. It doesn’t mean anything.” You call him out, only half joking, mostly defensive.

Yeonjun stills—his gaze heavy on only your face. His response pulls the air straight from your lungs.

“It means everything. You just don’t listen.”

It’s then that you realize your eyes have begun filling with tears, which you refuse to let spill. The weight of the situation comes to a head

"Hey," Yeonjun coos. His hands are on your shoulders, forcing you to turn onto your back so he can see you properly. His eyes widen at your red eyes looking back at him, noticing the way you suddenly closed off. He slides next to you on his side.

"Yeonjun, what is this?" You huff, tears gone and replaced with anger. "Because I do listen. That's the problem. I listen to you and I believe what you say. And then you're gone."

He thinly smiles, but there's a layer of shame behind it. “There’s a reason I had to stop hanging around after. If I stayed any longer I might’ve scared you away.”

"Why would you scare me away?" You're nose to nose with him now. You don't know if it was you or he who scooted closer.

"Because I’d stop pretending. I'd ask you to stop seeing anyone else. I'd want to be enough for you. And if I wasn’t, I don’t think I could take it."

You freeze, finally seeing Yeonjun for all that he is now.

He speaks again when you can't find the words. “You think I tell just anyone they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me while they’re falling apart under me?”

Your voice is quiet, but sure. "Then stop pretending. Yeonjun… I want more. I just didn’t think you did." Your hand drifts up his chest, resting over his heart. "You're more than enough.”

Yeonjun’s breath stutters. “Then let me show you what I’ve been holding back.”

He surges forward, capturing your mouth with his. He finally lets himself feel everything he’s been holding back.

Your legs tangle instinctively as you both remain on your sides, facing each other, bodies pressed close. His hand is on your hip, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the hard line of him, twitching through both your underwear, pressing right where you need him.

His forehead rests against yours as he begins to move—subtle rolls of his hips that grind his cock against your center, dragging friction with each pass.

“Feel that?” he breathes dreamily. “That’s what you do to me. Every damn time.”

You gasp, your own hips moving now, chasing the pressure, the closeness, the heat. Your fingers clutch at his flexed bicep, needing something to hold onto.

A broken moan catches in your throat. “You think I don’t feel the same?” You whisper, your tone shaky. Your hips roll to meet his, earning a low groan from his lips. “You leave and I lie in that bed wishing you’d just… stay. I don’t want anyone else, Yeonjun. Just you.”

He lets out an uneven breath like he’s been waiting to hear that for months. His hand slides down to your ass, splaying wide across the flesh to drag you even closer, like he could mold your bodies together.

“Say it again,” he begs, grinding harder now, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “Say it while I make you cum like this.”

You’re already gasping, forehead pressed to his, needing more and loving that this finally means something.

Every slow grind of his clothed cock against your soaked panties sends shocks through your core. You cling to him, overwhelmed by how good it feels.

“O-only you, Yeonjun.”

The second the words leave your mouth, he lights up like a match to gasoline. He groans and grips your ass even tighter, rutting against you now with less restraint. This sends pleasure coiling through your gut.

“Fuck,” he breathes against you, panting now, almost angry with need. “You’re always so perfect for me.”

His hand slips between your bodies, cupping your pussy over your panties and pressing down just enough to make the pressure unbearable. Your head falls back, body shaking as he rocks against you harder, dragging your panties across your swollen clit.

“You sound so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “Every moan—fuck—it’s going straight to my cock. Wanna fuck you slow after this. Real slow. Wanna feel you pulse around me ‘til you’re crying.”

"Please keep going. I need you." You whimper.

“You gonna cum for me like this? Just from grinding? Look how fucking needy you are. I know your body better than anyone, don’t I?”

You nod frantically, already there. The build-up has been burning in your gut since the moment he touched you, and now it’s crashing down in waves—your orgasm slamming into you so hard your knees buckle.

“Yeonjun—” you cry, nails digging into his arm, your hips jerking helplessly against his cock as you cum.

He holds you through it, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other still cupping your cunt, letting you ride the high out on his palm. You’re soaked, panties ruined, your whole body trembling as he whispers filth against your ear.

“That’s it, baby. Just like that. You cum so good for me.”

And then you feel it, how soaked he is.

The front of his boxers is soaked with pre-cum, the evidence of how hard he’s been holding back nearly obscene. He doesn’t even ask. He pushes his boxers down and tosses them aside, freeing himself. You’re still recovering, but the second his fingers hook into the sides of your panties and peel them off, the heat returns.

You don’t even think—your body moves on instinct. When he comes back down beside you, you grind against his thigh this time, and his jaw clenches at the feel of your bare, soaked folds dragging against his skin, leaving a trail of arousal in your wake.

“Holy shit,” he bites back a moans, watching you with heavy eyes. “Greedy girl. Get on your stomach again.”

You obey, letting him guide you down. He straddles your thighs like before, but this time, everything is different. This time, he knows you’re his. You know it, too.

“Ruin me, baby,” you whisper into the sheets.

He strokes himself slowly behind you, lined up and leaking, watching the way you lie flat before him. He lowers himself, chest and stomach pressed to your back, the weight of him trapping you.

“I meant every word I’ve ever said to you in bed,” he says softly before proceeding, brushing your hair to one side. “Every.” A kiss to your temple. "Single." To your neck. “One.” To the corner of your mouth.

Then he pushes in, sliding into your sensitive heat inch by inch until he’s fully buried. You choke on a moan.

“God, you’re so tight,” he whispers. “Still clenching from that last orgasm, huh? You’re gonna give me another, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

He starts to move slowly at first, grinding into your sweet spot with every stroke. Your body reacts on its own, already building again. He keeps you flat against the bed, one arm cradling your waist, the other laced with your fingers when you reach back for him. He intertwines your fingers without question.

You’re gasping now, high-pitched whines escaping your lips, babbling about how good it feels, how full you are, how close you are again.

“Don’t stop, please, fuck—Yeonjun—gonna cum again.”

“Shit, baby, you’re so good,” he grits out, rutting into you harder now, hips slapping against your ass, the sound filthy and wet. “So fucking perfect. So tight around me I can barely think.”

You sob into the mattress, your whole body vibrating with pleasure. His cock taps that perfect spot again and again, and you can feel his rhythm falter, his breath hitch. He’s close, so close.

“So sexy like this. Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me, baby?”

“On my ass,” you whimper. “Wanna feel you.”

That’s all he needs. His hand slides into your hair, gripping tight, pressing your cheek to the mattress. His thrusts grow frantic, your clit grinding against the sheets, the pressure sending sparks down your spine.

“I love you,” he gasps, voice raw. “I love you so fucking much—”

And then you’re both coming.

You first, spasming around him, thighs shaking uncontrollably as the friction sends you over the edge a second time. He pulls out quickly, stroking himself fast as thick, hot ropes spill across your ass and lower back, his body trembling above you.

Neither of you moves. Your face is still buried in the sheets, breathing hard. He leans down, kissing your spine, your shoulders, your cheek. He's extra tender now.

But the fire in both your bodies hasn’t gone out. Not even close. Yeonjun knows it, too. Not when you two are finally on the same page.

His lips brush your ear. “I think we’re gonna need a bed we can ruin properly.”

You smile, still breathless. “Then let's get out of here. I want more of you."

"Come on," he chuckles, rolling off the bed. He extends a hand to you, gently tugging you up with him. "Yours or mine?"

You hesitate to say yours, and he senses it. His hands cup your face on each side, lowering his head to meet your eye line. "It's okay. You’re not sleeping alone tonight. I won't make that mistake ever again."

You don’t say another word. There’s no need to.

Clothes are slipped back on in silence, the air still thick with everything that just passed between you. When you head back downstairs, hand in hand, you don’t miss the wide eyes and gaping mouths staring after you. Yeonjun tosses a few half-hearted goodbyes over his shoulder without slowing down. You stay close behind him, face tucked shyly into his back as he guides you out the door.

But behind your flustered smile, pride, giddiness, and relief are all wrapped in one. Because finally, Choi Yeonjun was yours.

tags: @vkravenz @bunnysoonie @zznblr @another-lemon-tree @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @beestvng @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn @frenziedpiratetrap @gardnhee @txtsdoll

"That's it, take Yeonjun's cock like a good slut."

"F-fuck," the older man threw his head back at the way you clenched around his girthy cock, hot, slick, and greedy. He rolled his hips into yours, making you cry out through your panties stuffed in your mouth to muffle your moans. "Seriously, we can't just be friends anymore after this - ah - I'll lose my shit thinking about your pussy all day."

From his seat by the dresser, Soobin tightened his grip on his stiff cock, already leaking precum. He watched Yeonjun's cock slam in and out of your pussy. The older man liked to pull out completely, drag his length along your clit until you whined helplessly, then ram it back in, punching a cry out of you. Soobin licked his lips and listened to the symphony of his best friends' sweat slicked skin smacking against each other, the squelches each time Yeonjun's cock pummeled your wet hole, your muffled whining, and Yeonjun's pornographic moans.

Soobin found it delicious to watch, but he couldn't deny he wanted to ruin you just as badly as Yeonjun did, too. Raw you like an animal in heat, abuse your wet pussy and fill it deep, dripping with a mix of his and Yeonjun's hot semen.

You ripped the panties from your mouth and began gasping loudly. Yeonjun could feel your hot cavern pulsate around his length, locking him in a vice-like grip. His hips began to stutter, erratic in his movement. Soobin leaned forward just slightly. He knew what was coming and decided to edge himself a little bit, letting go of his dripping cock. As he slowly licked the slick off of his palm, Soobin suppressed his eyes from rolling back, watching the scandalous scene unfold in front of him.

Yeonjun’s mouth hung open in ecstasy, eyes shut tight, reveling in the sensation of your pussy clenching around him.

“So,” pant, “fucking,” pant, “good.” Your best friend punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, allowing streak after thick streak of cum to coat your walls. You could’ve sworn the intensity of your orgasm drove you insane. Warm and sticky fluid flooded your hole, covering his cock and meeting his release. Your legs and thighs buzzed with pleasure, and your hole felt so raw. The sensation in your womb was both sensual and dirty. So filthy.

“What a filthy slut,” Soobin groaned, sucking in air through clenched teeth. “You like being pounded by your best friend’s cock?”

Lost in pleasure while Yeonjun fucks the remainder of his semen into you, you manage to let out a weak “Yeah.”

The man behind you slows his thrusts and eventually slips out of you. Soobin looks up at him, and they exchange sly looks. Soobin stands up, shucking off the rest of his clothes, leaving his cock proudly on display. You were in huge trouble.

“Wanna make it two of your best friends’ cocks? Gonna let me fill you up with my cum, too?” Soobin leaned in close, eyes dark, and spanked your ass. You screamed in surprise, feeling Yeonjun’s cum drip out of you and onto the sheets.

“Answer me, slut.”

“Y-yes,” you groaned, glassy eyes begging him to cream inside you, “I w-want all your cum in m-my pussy, Bin-ah.”

Yeonjun was spent. He moved to the chair and reached for his phone. You had an inkling of what was going to happen next.

“Jun-ah,” Soobin called while manhandling you onto your back, not caring about the cum that poured out of your hole, “get back here and take a video of your mess first.”

Yeonjun hummed and sauntered over, phone in hand with the flash on. Both men pushed your thighs apart, leaving your dripping snatch exposed. “So wet and full of my cum,” the older man watched the screen closely as three of Soobin’s fingers invaded your hole, fucking the slick back inside. He slapped your pussy, earning a moan from you. Smrking, he did it again, watching the strings of your arousal stretch out as he pulled his hand away. You whined out his name, embarrassed by the wet sounds coming from your folds.

“Bin, I ate her out earlier before you walked in,” Yeonjun smirked. “She’s so fucking tasty, exactly like we imagined.”

Shit, how long have these two been planning to get in your pants? Since you started coming over to their apartment? Since you accidentally flashed them at the pool? That one spin the bottle game where you had to make out with Yeonjun?

Or that incident at the movie theater where you caught Soobin touching himself through his pants during a sex scene? You moaned, remembering that smirk he gave you back then and the way he continued palming his cock.

If you’d gotten the hint back then, you could’ve been cumming on their cocks much sooner.

“‘M gonna eat this pussy out first, dyin’ to taste you.” Soobin hasn’t gotten started yet, but his words slightly slurred together, as if he was already pussydrunk by the thought of drowning in your arousal. He flattened his tongue and licked a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. He hummed as he savored your slick fluids coating his tongue, while you cried out like a bitch in heat. Fuck their neighbors; you were getting the best head of your life tonight.

“Still dripping so much after being used as Junnie’s cumdump?” Soobin tutted, “You’re insatiable.”

His head disappeared between your legs as he began sucking on your hole, as if trying to drink up the filthy mixture of yours and Yeonjun’s cum. You screamed when he stuck his tongue inside and forced the wet muscle to explore your pussy. Yeonjun had to switch hands to hold the camera steady and place the other hand on your abdomen to keep you from thrashing around in pleasure. His best friend was too pussy-drunk to mind you pulling his hair, thirsty for more of his tongue action.

“Y/N’s so greedy,” Yeonjun remarked. “Soobin, wanna teach her a lesson?”

The younger man only responded by withdrawing his tongue and laving it over your clit before sucking wetly.

He scooped up the dripping mix of arousal from your hole and pulled out his soaked digits to hold them up for his friend, all the while keeping his hot tongue on you. Yeonjun hungrily wrapped his plump lips around Soobin’s fingers, suckling on them lightly to get a taste of yours and his own cum. Admittedly, you would’ve enjoyed the erotic scene of the two men if it weren't for Soobin’s relentless attack on your folds. Each stripe that he pressed onto your sensitive snatch brought you closer to the edge. 

Yeonjun let go of the other’s fingers with a lewd pop and resumed filming the same fingers plunging inside you again.

The older man watched in amusement, eyes drifting to see your fucked out expression, body covered in sweat from fucking him earlier. You met his piercing gaze. He slowly moved the phone towards you, recording your sorry state for them to beat their cocks to later. Much to your surprise, he delicately brushed a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead. The loving gesture reminded you for a split second that you were close friends.

Close friends that somehow ended up this way.

The sweet gesture was quickly swept away by the sight of Yeonjun licking his lips. He watched you with blown pupils and spoke.

“Who’s making you feel this good, baby? Hm?” He asked in a low voice, tongue grazing the shell of your ear.

“Y-you!" you moaned, hips grinding into Soobin’s face. His moan sent vibrations through your pussy. “You and S-Soobin-ah! So good I’m gonna cum!”

“Then cum.” 

At that, Soobin, who had been carefully tracing little circles on your bundle of nerves, latched his lips onto your clit and resumed his frenzied sucking while pounding his fingers into your slick. He shook his head from side to side, the movement intensifying the rough drag of his tongue on you. The salacious squelching, lewd moans, and smell of sex permeated the air again. You screamed brokenly while creaming all over his mouth. Yeonjun held the camera right above the both of you, capturing the sexual act in all its glory.

You tried to make eye contact with the camera, but Soobin’s persistent licking at your spent folds kept your eyes rolling back so much you thought they would get stuck that way.

You came down from your high, and Soobin polished off his meal, greedily sucking every last drop from your hole and his own fingers. Fuck, your best friends could keep your legs twitching for days on end. You wouldn’t mind that one bit.

Damn, you need both of them in you.

Soobin was a mess. His bangs stuck to his forehead from the sweat and juices on his face, but his gaze was eager, showing no signs of fatigue from your earlier activities.

“Time for my cock, babe. Take it like the slut you are, alright? I’ll make it fit.” He gripped his length and pumped it, lining it up with your hole before entering you.

The stretch was incredible. Without a doubt, he was thicker than Yeonjun. It was as if you felt every ridge, every vein that bulged from his dick as he sank further and further into you. When he bottomed out, Soobin could hardly hold himself back from pulling back and slamming in.

Embarrassingly, you heard the squelch of your juices as Soobin adjusted his position while you got accustomed to the size of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned “Gonna fuck you stupid on my cock, slut.”

And he began pummeling into you a lot more forcefully than Yeonjun did. His technique was desperate, messy, and a little insane. You had half a mind to be a little scared that he might break you.

“Fuck! S’big and so good, Soobin!”

Still sensitive, you moaned out his name. He satisfied his oral fixation by sealing his lips over your tit, moaning into your burning flesh. His thrusts were fast and harsh, barely giving you time to breathe, so you had no choice but to bask in the sensation of Soobin’s dick abusing your pussy.

The wet sounds of your skin meeting were also affecting Yeonjun, who began groaning like a pornstar again. His other hand traveled to his now fully hard cock and began stroking again, his eyes flickering between the scene recorded on the screen and reality. The older man fixed his gaze on the sight of you and Soobin’s hips meeting. He watched it all—the way his cock disappeared into your cunt, the wetness that accumulated around his friends’ lower halves as you both kept meeting each other's thrusts.

The way Soobin speared you on his cock like a toy, he treated you like his personal cumdump. He released your tits from his mouth and joined Yeonjun in watching his dick plunging into your heat, each time emerging a lot wetter than the last.

In between pants, Soobin said something that made you clench harder around his pulsating length, “Yeonjunnie, fuck her mouth. Make her take both of us at once.”

At least Yeonjun had the decency to ask you, “Would you like that, baby? Want me to cum down your throat, too?”

Halfway through a moan, you nodded furiously. It took too much energy to form coherent words, but you tried for him.

“P-please,” you choked out, “Wan’ it in my m-mouth.”

“Good girl,” Yeonjun praised, positioning your head so you hung slightly from the edge of the bed. You watched with lidded eyes as he collected his arousal from the tip with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone and stroked himself with it. He tapped his veiny cock against your waiting lips. “Gonna pump my cum down your throat now, beautiful.”

Eagerly, you wrapped your lips around the older man’s tip, giving it a little suck before allowing him to thrust the rest of his length down your hot mouth. Both the taste of your cum and his from earlier still lingered on his skin, and you moaned around him as you realized this. You took into your hands what your mouth couldn’t take, twisting them while relaxing your muscles to take him deeper. 

Yeonjun barely captured your sinful position on camera before he dropped his phone, sending it clattering to the floor.

They should really set up a tripod next time.

Next time.

He quickly became erratic in his movements. He couldn’t believe his wettest, wildest dreams came true tonight. He threw his head back in ecstasy while you swallowed him whole, sweat running down his chest and the sides of his face.

Fuck, fuck, and what if he looked at his best friend right now-

Soobin, still pummeling relentlessly into your battered cunt, stared right back at him. They held eye contact while thrusting into both your holes, chests heaving from the pleasure that drowned their hot bodies and addled their lust-ridden minds. For them, nothing else existed in this moment except for the sound of their skin repeatedly coming in contact with your holes, the squelch of juices and spit, the scent of sex, the buzz that lit their lower halves on fire, and the humid air that sent perspiration dripping down their bodies to your equally spent one.

“Think you can last longer than me, Jun-ah?” The younger challenged, pulling out almost completely then slamming back into you forcefully. You whined around Yeonjun’s cock.

“Huh,” the older huffed, “I’ll even let her ride me after this, then I’ll fuck her in front of that mirror Y/N and I bought together over there.”

Soobin spared the dirty floor-length mirror a glance, “Yeah? You’re nasty. I could guess how many times your conceited ass came all over that thing.”

Yeonjun’s hand found its way to your throat, groaning when he saw the slight outline of his cock. “You’re nastier, Bin-ah. You hide Y/N’s sweaters whenever she comes over and cum all over them at night, dirty perv.”

Again, you let out another moan and desperately humped against Soobin’s hips, trying to get his dick deeper into you. All the dirty confessions they’re making in front of you made you gush out more juices. Soobin clicked his tongue and suddenly pulled out of you, taking a moment to appreciate the sticky strings of arousal that connected his member to your cunt. You whined at the loss of contact and Yeonjun was quick to thrust that down your throat again.

Meanwhile, Soobin pushed your knees up to your chest and aligned his cock with your entrance.

“Little slut wants more?” He sneered, “I’ll give you more, then. We’ve got all night.”

He sheathed his cock in the deepest he could go, invading your folds once more and pushing your juices in. Soobin let out the hottest, most desperate moan he’s made so far and began panting again. His hips moved at a rapid pace, causing clear-white fluid to form around where the base of his cock and your pussy met. You could feel the wetness spread further on your thighs and pour onto Yeonjun’s sheets.

The older man watched this development greedily, pulling out of you momentarily to give you room to rest and moan loudly as Soobin abused your leaking hole. Seeking leverage, you felt around until your hand found Yeonjun’s thigh. He grabbed your tits, pinching your nipples and rolling them in his fingers, causing them to harden. You sobbed, grasping at his thigh tighter.

“Yeonjunnie,” you gasped, “c-cock…”

He quickly complied, pushing his hips back into your mouth to receive the pleasure your tongue and cheeks gave him. 

You moaned around Yeonjun’s cock, but you could hear the latter scoff at the statement.

Soobin delivered a harsh slap to your ass, making you impossibly tighter, your juices and tightness simultaneously sucking him in and pushing him out.

“Fuck, baby, your cunt’s so greedy ‘n hot.” He groaned, “Gonna stuff this pussy day and night so it’ll never be empty, you like that?”

It’s always a competition between these two, you thought.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Yeonjun panted, pushing back his sweaty hair to bask in the feeling of you swallowing his dick. “Take it like the good girl you are, hm? Give me another thing to think about every night.”

Soobin’s mouth hung open in pleasure, but he still had the energy to roll his eyes at the older man. He began to indulge you in more dirty talk.

“What a complete slut. Already came around Junnie and me several times but can still give us more, hm? Gonna fucking pound this pussy until all you can cum around is our cocks, right?”

He laid his palm on your abdomen and used his thumb to draw figures on your clit. You keened.

Coupled with his erratic thrusts, thumb motions, and Yeonjun’s fingers on your pebbled nipples, you were suddenly flooded with a white-hot pleasure. Your body thrashed around to no avail as your two best friends held you in place. 

The three of you were a sight to behold. Yeonjun’s cock twitched in your mouth, and he released thick spurts of cum in you as you moaned around him, letting him coat your tongue with his essence. You did your best to swallow, although you began to choke from the pleasure Soobin was giving you below.

The younger man ruthlessly snapped his hips into your wetness, ropes of cum shooting into your hole and kissing your cervix for the second time that night, filling you up with his hot semen. His moans came from deep within his chest, and you found that incredibly hot. You couldn’t see his face but imagined his blissed-out expression from emptying his balls in you.

In the middle if it all, your cunt met Soobin’s cum with your own, clenching uncontrollably while struggling to take in the semen Yeonjun spilled in your mouth. Each spurt into both your holes brought you closer to blacking out from the sheer pleasure.

The three of you relished in the sounds and sensations of your orgasms, the room a mess of moans and cries and squelches. Once they pulled out, your exhausted bodies went slack. Both men fell to either side of you on the bed, heaving deep breaths. Still abuzz with the effects of your orgasm, you became aware of yours and Soobin’s cum seeping out of your abused pussy. You could still feel the warm cum smeared on your chin, courtesy of Yeonjun.

On your left, the culprit quietly laughed and reached over to stroke your hair, “That was intense, baby. You okay?” he whispered, “Soobin did a number on you.”

You grinned weakly, “Says the one who first pulled me in here to eat me out.”

“Hey,” Soobin suddenly said, “We should do this again.”

“How soon?” Yeonjun smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You felt Soobin’s hand on your thigh, getting closer to your still-sensitive core.

Your house is modest but filled with personal touches: framed illustrations, a collection of obscure game discs, and a bookshelf overflowing with novels.

After you get yourself dressed, you step outside for a walk, your sneakers hitting the pavement in rhythmic thuds. You pass by the local café, where the barista waves at you, and the bookstore, where you stop to browse the new arrivals of manga. Afterwards you take the bus to the nearby hospital. 

This had become your routine every Wednesday—a bit repetitive, perhaps, but it was what you enjoyed. The endless stretch of countryside outside your window had never been the life you envisioned in your twenties.

You had imagined a high-rise apartment in the city, a high-paying job, and a life surrounded by people who didn't know your name—all amidst the buzz of urban life. But circumstances have kept you here, in your hometown.

At first, the monotony felt suffocating. The same roads, the same faces, the same small-town rhythm. Yet, over time, you began to find comfort in the predictability.

The quiet mornings, the familiar greetings, the slower pace—it all started to feel like home. You had traded the city's chaos for the calm of rural life, and while it wasn't the life you had planned, it was a life you were learning to appreciate. In the simplicity of the countryside, you discovered a deeper connection to yourself and the world around you.

You hated it from time to time, sometimes cursing and beating yourself up for staying with what feels familiar, but what could you do? 

—

As you stepped into the sterile hospital corridor, the faint scent of antiseptic mingled with the soft hum of distant conversations. With a sigh, you adjusted the strap of your bag and made your way to room 307. As you approached the door, you noticed it slightly ajar. 

Pushing the door open, you see your mother first, who seemingly is having a conversation with another person in the room. Upon opening it further, you found that it was your mother’s best friend, Mrs. Choi, sitting beside the bed and chatting animatedly, that was keeping your mother entertained. Mrs. Choi looked up, her face lighting up with recognition. 

“There you are!” she exclaimed, rising from her seat to lead you to your mother’s bed. Her eyes flicked to the bags of home-cooked food hanging from your elbow and the two iced Americanos wrapped around your hands. “Looks like your mom will be eating for two all week!” she teased, taking the bags from you and placing them alongside her own on the bedside table. 

You let out a soft laugh, extending your arm toward Mrs. Choi. "This is for you, Mrs. Choi. You must've gotten up early this morning." You bowed slightly, politely offering her the other coffee in your hands.

“Oh dear, it looks like I’ll be having a caffeine rush today!” She joked, which made your mother let out a laugh as well. You look at both of them confused, yet still wearing a smile on your face.

You see her lift up an almost empty cup of coffee, one that was exactly from the same place where you got yours. “Ahh~, I see…” Your murmur. Mrs. Choi already bought coffee for herself. 

You set the other coffee down by the bedside table and turned to your mother, who was propped up on the bed, flipping through a magazine you had gifted her last week. "How are you feeling, Mom?"

Your mother looked up, offering a reassuring smile. "Better now that you're here." You smiled, sliding your hand down her cheek, your heart melting at the tender moment you were sharing.

Just then, the door swung open, and a nurse entered for your mother's morning check-up. You stepped aside to let her pass and shared a glance with the two ladies inside the room before making your way out to the hallway.

You always left the room during these times, finding that you became queasy when you saw the numerous needles they attached to your mom and the way they conducted diagnostics as if she were a machine.

Sitting down on one of the seats outside your mom’s room, you pulled out your phone to respond to some emails and refresh your news feed. A new headline caught your eye: “TXT’s Soobin to Temporarily Halt Activities Due to Health Reasons.” Your stomach sank as you skimmed the preview.

Curious and concerned, you clicked the link and quickly scanned the article, completely unprepared for what you might read. The piece confirmed that he had recently visited the hospital after showing signs of being unwell. Medical staff had advised him to take time to rest and recover.

As a result, Soobin would be absent from several upcoming events, including big awards and fan events. You scrolled down, hoping for more news, more updates. And then you saw it. A handwritten letter from Soobin himself.

Reading his words, you felt a mix of emotions—concern for his well-being, admiration for his dedication, and a deep sense of connection to someone who had been a part of your childhood for so long, despite losing contact several years ago. 

The article had been published just two hours ago, but you knew that Mrs. Choi (and assuming your mother), was already aware of the news. Why they had kept it from you, you had some inkling.

The last time someone took a break for health reasons was your mom. The doctors had said she just needed some time to rest, that she was overworked and needed a break from physical labor.

The very next morning, she had gotten a fever, and her sickness never went away—just slowly eating her up from the inside out. You had been so young then, too young to understand the gravity of it all. Now, as an adult, you couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. 

Soobin, your childhood friend—the person who had unknowingly been your anchor during the darkest times, was now facing his own battle. And you were left here, unable to support him or ask how he was even doing. 

You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes and letting out a deep sigh. As you relished the silence of the sterile hallways, the occasional sound of footsteps and doors opening and closing punctuated the stillness. 

Then, you felt it—the unmistakable presence of someone standing before you. Without lowering your head, you slowly opened one eye, cautiously scanning your surroundings.

What you never expected was the very man whose face you had seen on your phone less than five minutes ago—standing there, staring down at you.

You jolted upright, your phone nearly slipping from your lap. Rubbing your eyes, you looked up at the man standing before you, his presence both unexpected and surreal. You shook your head, trying to dismiss the impossibility of it. But why would he be here? What reason could he have? The stress of the past week—no, the past months—had taken its toll. You wondered if this was just another symptom of your exhaustion, a moment of derealization. 

But this felt different. This felt real.

—

TWELVE YEARS AGO

It was a hot summer afternoon, the kind where the sun sat high up on the horizon, casting its hot rays over the neighborhood. The summer fair was in full swing, with the distinct smell of water from popped balloons hitting the pavement and street foods wafting through the air. Children darted between booths, their laughter mingling with the distant hum of pop music.

You and Soobin, inseparable since you were both knee-high and full of dreams, strolled leisurely through the fairgrounds. Your hands brushed now and then—not quite holding, but never far apart. Every few steps, you pointed excitedly at something: a glittering ring toss booth, a caricature artist drawing wide-eyed portraits, a balloon animal vendor with a long line of sticky-handed kids. The scent of nostalgia hung thick in the air, and the moment felt impossibly alive.

Then you saw it: the talent show sign-up booth, marked by a colorful hand-painted sign fluttering in the breeze. A flyer, curling at the edges. "Are you sure?" he hesitated, his usual confidence "Absolutely!" you insisted, grabbing the pen and signing both your names.

The day of the talent show arrived, and nerves set in. You and Soobin had decided to perform a duet—his favorite song at the time, "Twinkle," by Girls' Generation. You had practiced tirelessly, but now, standing backstage, doubt crept in.

"I can't do this," Soobin whispered, his usual smile replaced by a nervous frown.

“I’ll buy you endless Kara merch if you do,” You placed your hands on his shoulders, shaking him like a soda can. “Seriously. Light sticks. Albums. Posters. Even that ridiculous towel.” A beat passed—and then, like magic, his eyes lit up. “Really?”

You watched as Soobin sat up straighter at the mention of the girl group and you couldn't help but let out a huff at how easily he was convinced. “Wow...” You shook your head, exasperated. “Remind me to never call you if I get kidnapped.”

Soobin looked up at you with furrowed brows, as if genuinely puzzled. “Why not?”

“They’d probably ask for your merch in exchange for me. Knowing you, you'd choose the merch.” He smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. “Of course.”

His nonchalance only fueled your annoyance. Without missing a beat, you grabbed him in a playful headlock, ruffling his hair. “Idiot,” you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

When your names were called, you stepped onto the stage, the bright lights blinding you momentarily. The audience's murmurs faded into a distant hum as the music began. Soobin's voice filled the air, and your nerves melted away. You sang your heart out, treating the talent show as if it were just a playful karaoke session. Soobin, however, seemed to belong on that stage. When the final note faded, the crowd erupted into applause—parents, teens, kids, strangers all clapping like they’d just watched something special.

You turned to Soobin.

He stood there, beaming, the mic still clutched in both hands like a prized possession. Then, without a trace of shyness, he bowed. A real bow. You stared for a moment—because in that instant, he wasn’t just your goofy best friend. He looked like someone born to be on that stage.

You stepped back, letting him shine.

That performance became a cherished memory, a testament to your friendship and Soobin's budding talent. Little did you know, that day planted the seed for his future in music.

–

“You're back.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, more a whisper to yourself than a question to him.

Soobin stood in front of you, barely resembling the old version of him that you always saw him as. Just his outfit alone–meticulously chosen, each piece exuding a quiet luxury. It wasn’t something you thought you’d see him in in a million years. You were accustomed to seeing him in school uniforms, always looking youthful despite being six months older than you. But the Soobin now before you was undeniably an adult.

His gaze swept over you, lingering just a moment too long. "You look..." He paused, as if searching for the right words. "Different."

The simplicity of his statement stung more than you expected. You had changed, hadn't you? But had it been for the better? You met his gaze, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the fluttering in your chest. "You look horrible yourself, too," you teased, trying to mask the unease creeping in.

Soobin chuckled, the sound warm and familiar, yet distant. "Fair enough," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words. You wanted to ask him everything—about his life, his experiences, the years that had passed—but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you stood there, two people who once shared everything, now separated by time and circumstance. Soobin shifted, his hands slipping into his pockets, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's been a while," he said softly.

"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "A while."

The soft click-clack of the nurse’s cart rolling outside your mom’s room broke the comfortable silence between you and Soobin. Only then did you notice the small electronic device in his hands—so tiny it looked almost out of place in his grasp.

“Humidifier?” you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He shifted uncomfortably, his cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s a gift... for your mom. I went and filled it up with some water” he said shyly, as if embarrassed to be seen with such a thoughtful gesture. You couldn't help but smile at his bashfulness. “She’ll love it,” you reassured him, nudging him gently toward the door.

As you both entered the room, the familiar scent of antiseptic and the soft beeping of medical equipment filled the air. Your mom looked up, her face lighting up at the sight of you and Soobin together, briefly exchanging glances with Mrs. Choi. 

“Look who’s here,” you said, your voice filled with warmth. 

“I already saw him, honey,” she said with a playful smile, her voice tinged with that familiar teasing warmth, then gestured toward the table beside her, where several bags were neatly stacked. “He helped bring those in earlier,” she added, nodding toward the tall figure behind you. 

You looked behind at Soobin, who was already crouched near the wall, carefully plugging the humidifier into the outlet. His broad shoulders were hunched slightly, the soft fabric of his sweater bunching at the elbows as he adjusted the cord, making sure it didn’t tangle with the IV stand nearby. He handled everything with the kind of quiet precision you’d come to associate with him—gentle, but steady. 

The little device gave a soft mechanical hum as it came to life, a faint mist beginning to rise from the spout. Soobin straightened up, brushing his hands together as if completing a sacred task, then glanced at your mom with a nervous half-smile.

"I set it to low," he murmured. "So it won't be too much, just enough to keep the air from feeling dry."

Your mom tilted her head toward the thin ribbon of vapor swirling in the air, a flicker of surprise and gratitude crossing her face. "Thank you, Soobin," she said, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve been feeling like my throat’s been made of sandpaper.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks turning a little pink again. "It’s nothing, really. I just… thought it might help." You watched the way your mom looked at him, her gaze lingering for just a second longer than usual—gentle, assessing, as if seeing him act like this reminded her of the old times and that made her quietly glad. 

Your mom’s eyes softened as she glanced at Soobin, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’re very thoughtful,” she said gently, reaching out to adjust the humidifier’s mist.

Soobin shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I just wanted to help.”

You caught the faintest shadow across your mom’s face—a quiet mix of pride and something else, something like a wish she could say aloud. But instead, she chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Well, you’re doing a good job at it.” As if hinting at more than just showing gratitude for the gesture.  The mist from the humidifier caught the light, casting soft shadows on the white hospital sheets, and for a moment the sterile room felt just a little more like home. 

–

Before you knew it, time had slipped by, the way it always does when you're avoiding looking at the clock. The room had grown quiet again, the only sounds were the soft whir of machines and your mom’s slow, steady breathing. You stood, brushing nonexistent wrinkles from your clothes, more out of habit than anything else. Soobin followed suit just like always, moving a half-step behind you, like he wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to leave yet.

Outside, the corridor was still and cold under the harsh fluorescent lights. It smelled faintly of antiseptic and something else—something tired. You walked side by side, just close enough to feel his presence but not enough to brush shoulders. The silence sat between you, not uncomfortable, but not easy either. 

“So,” you said, voice catching slightly in your throat. “When did you get back?”

He glanced over, offering you a small, almost sheepish smile. “I assume you know?”

Right—the headlines. You’d seen them without even trying to. His name had been everywhere for days. It was hard to avoid when your past suddenly became the world’s news. You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I saw.”

He let out a short breath of laughter. Not a real laugh—one of those quiet ones that feels more like a sigh. “They really don’t let you disappear quietly, do they?”

You wanted to say something reassuring, but nothing came. What could you even say? That sucks? I’m sorry? I read every article twice, looking for signs you were okay? Instead, you settled on, “Looks like you’ll be around for a while.”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, but it wasn’t light or offhand. There was a drag to it, something unspoken anchoring the gesture. “Yeah. Forced break.” 

You raised an eyebrow, hoping a little teasing might soften the edges. “Forced break? Sounds like a long vacation.”

He gave you a half-smile, one side of his mouth curling up. “If only.”

The silence crept back in as you continued walking, your shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floor. It should’ve felt comfortable—you’d walked like this before, years ago, without needing to say much. But now? Now it felt like stepping around the edges of something you both weren’t ready to touch. You stole a glance at him. The curve of his jaw was more defined now, his hair a little longer than you remembered. He still walked with that same quiet presence, like he was trying not to take up too much space. But there was something else, too—something a little more closed off.

You swallowed. “So... what now?”

He looked over at you, not stopping, just watching. “I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I’ve never had this much free time before.”

You let out a soft huff of air, unsure if it was a laugh or just a release of tension. “Weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, then after a beat, added, “kind of uncomfortable, honestly.”

You nodded, because you got it—maybe not in the same way, but close enough. You understood what it was like to be stuck between chapters, unsure what comes next or who you're supposed to be without the thing that defined you. For a moment, you considered saying something real. Something like, I missed you or you don’t have to pretend around me, but your throat tightened. You hadn’t earned that kind of closeness anymore.

So instead you said, “Guess it’s a new kind of challenge.”

He gave you a look—mild, but maybe grateful. “Yeah. But... maybe not the worst kind.”

You nodded again, lips pressing into a thin line. And still, the things you wanted to say hovered behind your teeth. You wanted to ask how he was really doing. If it felt like everything had stopped too suddenly. If he was scared of what came next. But none of that would come out right, not with all this space between you.

The silence settled again as you both neared the elevator, the hum of lights overhead a constant backdrop.

“So,” you said, trying to sound casual but failing, “where are you staying?”

He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at you with a small smile. “Uh... just down the street, actually. Back in my parents’ place for a bit.”

You blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He let out a short breath. “Kind of surreal.”

You scoffed, the sound too sharp but real. “So... we’re neighbors again.”

He laughed, a real one this time. “Guess so.”

You nodded, trying not to smile too much. “Weird.”

“Definitely weird.”

Another pause. Another silence. But this one wasn’t so stiff. It settled more naturally between you, like maybe it didn’t need to be filled.

You both stood there, not really moving, not really sure what to do next. Just... hovering in that space where familiarity and distance existed at the same time. Where you wanted to say remember how easy this used to be? but knew neither of you quite had the words.

Maybe it would take time. Maybe it would stay awkward like this for a while.

But still, there was something in the quiet that felt like a beginning.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, but neither of you moved.

You thought that was it—that this was the part where you’d say goodbye with a tight smile and an awkward promise to “catch up later.” But instead, Soobin turned, leaned his shoulder against the wall beside the elevator, and said, “Want to walk for a bit?”

You blinked. “Around the hospital?”

His mouth tugged up slightly. “We’ve had weirder hangouts.”

That was true. Once upon a time, your “hangouts” included hiding in stairwells during school festivals and playing cards in the back of the library while pretending to study. So maybe walking quiet halls and dodging nurses wasn’t that strange after all.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I better go, lots of things to do today.” 

He nodded. Then, with one last glance at you—long enough to hold, short enough not to ask too much—he turned and walked down the hallway, his steps slow, like he wasn’t in a rush to leave.

You stayed where you were, hands in your pockets, the echo of his words still lingering in the air.

It had been a while since you last saw Soobin. And you'd be lying if you said you hadn’t looked him up that very same night you saw him again. After that day, it was like something broke loose inside you—some quiet restraint you’d kept for years.

You found yourself scrolling endlessly through his performance videos, one after another, chasing something you couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe it was your way of making up for all the time you’d forbidden yourself from watching them.

It wasn’t because you resented him. Not really. But it had always been easier to pretend you weren’t curious than to admit the truth: watching him chase his dream made something twist in your chest. Not bitterness, exactly—just jealousy.

A quiet, aching sort of envy that you never wanted to confront. He had gone out there and done what he said he would. He lived it. All while keeping you completely in the dark. Not a message, not a word—not even a hint of what his life had become.

And maybe that’s what stung the most—not that he left, but knowing it was your fault he never reached out. 

You remembered the night he left. You didn’t know it was the last time you’d see him, not then. He said something vague about having a “big audition” coming up the previous week, and you, always the loyal friend, had smiled and wished him luck, unaware that he would succeed to the point where he was at now. You hadn’t known that "audition" would become the beginning of a chapter that didn’t include you.

At first, you hesitated. You told yourself he'd text first. Call. Drop by. But days turned into weeks, then months, and eventually, you stopped refreshing your messages, stopped checking your phone late at night like a fool and stuck your nose into your studies. 

The only person who stayed by your side, from your father passing, through your mother getting sick, was now gone. And you couldn’t bring yourself to be the one who reached out first, fearing that you would only receive the silence you thought you deserved. 

So you buried it. Packed it into the same mental box where you kept all the “what ifs” you never wanted to admit you had. You stopped watching his interviews, muted hashtags, scrolled past his face without letting your eyes linger. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That people grow up, they move on. That it was nothing personal.

But seeing him again, in that hallway outside your mom’s hospital room, had cracked something open.

You hadn’t realized how much you still carried. How much weight was tied to his name, his voice, his smile. And now, after that one encounter, you were spiraling—late into the night, alone in your room, your screen glowing softly in the dark as you watched him perform with the same boyish intensity he’d always had, only now refined, polished. A professional.

There were moments when he’d show a dimpled smile between lyrics, or toss his hair a certain way, and you’d see glimpses of the boy you once knew. The one who used to walk you home after school. Who used to text you dumb memes and write notes on the edges of your notebooks when the teacher wasn’t looking. The boy who once promised he’d tell you everything.

But he didn’t.

And maybe that was the cruelest part—he had become someone the whole world knew, but not you. Not anymore. You didn’t deserve that chance. 

You set your phone down eventually, the videos still looping on autoplay, the sound dim. You stared at the ceiling, trying to reconcile the person on the screen with the quiet boy who used to sit beside you at lunch. Trying to figure out where the thread had snapped—and if there was any way to pick it back up again.

You weren’t sure. But part of you hoped—achingly, stubbornly—that he came back not just to rest… but to remember.

To remember you.

—

The next time you saw Soobin, it was raining on a Wednesday. 

Not the cinematic kind of rain that comes with thunder and dramatic declarations. Just a light drizzle that blurred the edges of the world and left your jacket damp where it clung to your shoulders.

You’d just finished your shift at the café near the hospital. You weren’t technically supposed to be working while your mom was still admitted, but she’d insisted—said the distraction was good for you. And truthfully, it was. It gave you something else to focus on besides white walls and the sound of machines beeping in the night.

You had your headphones in, your hood up, eyes on the sidewalk—when someone stepped into your path, blocking your way.

“Hey.”

You looked up.

Soobin.

He was holding a paper bag in one hand, a bottle of something green poking out the top. His hoodie was damp, darkened around the seams, but he looked almost amused by it. Like the rain wasn’t a bother. Like maybe it reminded him of something.

Your headphones hung limply around your neck now. “You stalking me?” you asked, only half joking.

“I swear I’m not,” he said, lifting the bag. “I was headed to the hospital. Thought your mom might like these.”

You glanced at the label on the bottle. Herbal tonic. Your lips curved upward despite yourself. “She’ll roll her eyes when she sees this. But this is good, she needs these.”

He grinned. “Good. Then mission accomplished.”

You hesitated. You should’ve said goodbye, should’ve kept walking—but you didn’t. Something in the way he was standing, not quite stepping forward but not walking away either, mirrored exactly how you felt. Stuck in the middle. 

“Want to come up with me?” you asked finally. “She’s been asking about you.”

His expression softened. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

You walked side by side again, like no time had passed—but with every footstep echoing on the hospital floor, you felt the gap between who you were and who you’d become. And still, he matched your pace without question.

Upstairs, your mom greeted him with a tired but genuine smile. You watched her lit up face switch over to a disgusted one in an instant as he handed her the tonic, made her laugh with something dumb, and you realized how easily he still fit into the spaces you thought time had sealed off.

Later, when she fell asleep and the lights dimmed around her bed, you and Soobin slipped out into the hallway again. It was quieter now. The storm outside had tapered into silence, and the air smelled faintly of rain on concrete.

He leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. You stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely over your chest, the distance between you filled with everything unsaid.

“She still makes that face when she doesn’t want to take medicine,” he said, glancing at the door behind you.

You smiled faintly. “Some things never change.”

He looked at you then, really looked. “You did.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s what happens when you’re not around for eight years.”

His mouth tugged to the side in something between a grimace and a smile. “Fair.”

There was another beat of silence, but this one felt warmer. You glanced down the hallway, watching a nurse wheel a cart past the far end, the soft rattle of it fading into the hum of fluorescent lights.

“You know,” he said after a moment, quieter now, “your mom was always really kind to me.”

“She likes people with manners,” you replied, then added, “and people who eat her leftovers without complaining.”

“She used to pack extra, just for me,” he said, eyes distant now. “Even when she said she didn’t have time.”

“She did that with people she loved.” The words left your mouth before you could decide whether or not to say them.

Soobin looked at you, and for a second, you almost couldn’t hold his gaze. It was too much. Too real.

The hallway buzzed faintly—the dull drone of fluorescent lights, distant intercom announcements, the occasional footsteps echoing down the corridor. Somewhere, a nurse’s soft laughter floated through the air.

The moment settled like dust, thick and heavy.

“I missed this,” he said finally, voice rough but steady. “Not just your mom. Not just the neighborhood. You.”

You didn’t answer right away. Your fingers picked at a loose thread on your sleeve, twisting it between your fingertips like a lifeline. He turned his head slightly toward you but didn’t push you for a response.

Instead, he said, “Can I show you something?”

You glanced over, curious despite yourself. “Now?”

He nodded, pulling his phone from his hoodie pocket with a slow, deliberate motion. He flipped through his gallery, swiping a few times, then handed it to you. A video.

Not one of the polished concert clips uploaded for fans, but a raw, shaky recording from a recent show. The camera was angled toward the crowd, thousands of tiny lights flickering like stars. Then it shifted to the stage—him, standing at the microphone, eyes closed, singing a slow, acoustic song. Your breath caught, chest tightening. He must’ve seen it on your face because he said softly, “Wrote it the week I moved to the city. Never released it.”

You watched the video again, seeing a side of him you hadn’t seen in years—vulnerable and unpolished. The words carried little references, tiny fragments of shared memories—a phrase you’d said once, a place you’d both known, a worn bench you’d sat on together.

“It was about you,” he said quietly. “Still is.”

Your fingers curled tighter around the phone, heart pounding in your ears louder than the soft hospital hum. You handed it back, not because you wanted to stop watching, but because it felt too much to hold all at once.

Another silence bloomed. But this one felt different, like the air between you had shifted, charged with something fragile and new.

He stood slowly. “I should go. Don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

You didn’t try to stop him, but as he turned, you called out softly, “Hey.”

He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

You gave him a small, tired smile, the kind that held hope and history all at once.

“Next time… don’t bring tonic. Bring peaches. She actually likes those.”

He laughed—a sound that was still boyish, warm, and real.

“Got it. Peaches.”

He walked down the hallway, the soft squeak of his shoes echoing behind him.

You stayed seated, staring at the empty space beside you, wondering how many more times you’d find the courage to let yourself take one step closer. 

—

It had been a long week.

You’d spent most of it moving between home and the hospital, the lines between day and night beginning to blur. Your mom’s condition hadn’t worsened, but it hadn’t improved either—and somehow, that was its own kind of exhausting. Hopeful. Heavy. Endless.

So when the knock came on your door that Saturday afternoon—three quick taps and a pause—you almost didn’t answer.

But then you remembered the way he knocked.

You opened the door.

“Delivery,” Soobin said, holding up a brown paper bag like it was a peace offering. “One bottle of overpriced juice, and…” He pulled out a small carton with a mock ceremony. “Peaches. Fresh. Not those disgusting canned stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You really took the note.”

“I aim to please.” He grinned, wide and shameless. “Also, the guy at the fruit stand said these were ‘kissing sweet,’ which made me deeply uncomfortable. So I had to buy them.”

You snorted, stepping aside to let him in. “That’s the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard for buying fruit.”

He walked in casually, already toeing off his shoes like second nature–- like he’d done it a hundred times. “What can I say? I missed your mom’s high standards. And your judgment.”

“Both still going strong,” you said, accepting the bag. “You want coffee or are you planning to make a dramatic exit again?”

He shot you a look. “That exit was graceful and respectful.”

“That exit was weird and full of emotional tension.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “So… par for the course?”

You tried not to laugh, but it slipped out anyway.

He sat on the edge of your couch, glancing around like he was taking inventory. You watched the way his eyes lingered on the bookshelf, the stack of hospital visitors passes on the table, the blanket still folded from when you'd last crashed there after a long night.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said. “Very... ‘haunted by fatigue but still trying.’”

You grinned. “That’s actually the theme of the whole apartment. You should see the bathroom.”

He laughed again—an easy, warm sound that made your ribs feel too tight.

You went to the kitchen, opened the bag, and found not just the peaches and juice, but a pack of sweet rice crackers tucked at the bottom.

“Are these for me or for her?” you called.

A beat.

“...Yes,” he replied.

“She’s going to eat all of these and then yell at me for letting you spend money on her.”

“Let her yell at me instead,” he said, already settling onto your couch like he owned the place. “I can take it. I survived our high school math teacher. Your mom has nothing on that woman.”

You smirked. “That teacher made you cry.”

He gasped. “I teared up. Once. And it was allergy season.”

“Sure it was.” It had been a strange comfort, having him around again—even if it was awkward most of the time.

“Thanks,” you said, shrugging and avoiding his eyes. “for not bringing tonic this time.”

He chuckled. “Hey, I learned my lesson. Peaches or bust.”

A silence passed. But it wasn’t heavy this time. It sat lightly between you, like an old friend resting its elbows on the table.

“So…” he said slowly. “You going to the hospital later?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just after dinner. They changed some meds, so they want someone to watch her overnight.”

He nodded, fingers curling around the mug. “Mind if I come with you?”

You looked up. Not because he hadn’t offered before. But because this time, he said it differently. Gently. Not just wanting to visit—but to be there. 

“…She’ll be happy to see you,” you said. “And if you bring those crackers, she might even be nice.”

He smiled, setting his mug down.

“Oh, and by the way,” you added, pretending to inspect a peach like it was under review. “She only likes the white ones. If you brought yellow—”

“Don’t insult me,” he said, already pulling a peach from the bag and rolling it across the table toward you. “Do I look like someone who would buy the wrong kind?”

You caught it mid-roll, lips twitching. “I don’t know. You’ve been gone a while. You could’ve turned into someone completely unreliable.”

He leaned back on the couch, arms stretched along the top cushion, looking maddeningly smug. “I’m still me.”

You turned the peach over in your hand, pretending not to notice how warm your cheeks felt.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “I know.” 

—

NINE YEARS AGO

The living room was a mess. A good kind of mess—snack wrappers littered across the coffee table, cushions scattered like casualties, your shared laughter still lingering in the air like static. It was the Friday before the weekend, Soobin had waited for you to finish your badminton practice to walk you home to spend the rest of the afternoon with you. 

Soobin was on the floor, one leg stretched out and the other tucked underneath him, controller in hand, glaring at the TV screen with the same intensity he used when talking about stage lighting or choreography.

“You’re cheating,” he said flatly. You didn’t look away from the screen. “I’m not.”

“You’re button-mashing,” he accused, pointing at your hands like he was building a legal case. “That’s not skill, that’s chaos.”

You grinned. “Chaos works.” A second later, his character flew off the edge of the map with a dramatic final explosion. KO. Soobin dropped his controller and flopped backward onto the floor like he’d just been shot. “Unbelievable. I come here in good faith and get demolished.”

You leaned over your knees, stretching out your arms with a satisfied sigh. “Maybe you just suck.”

He peeked at you through narrowed eyes. “I’m rethinking our friendship.”

“Because I’m better at Smash?”

“Because you’re a smug button-masher with no honor.”

You laughed, the kind that curled your shoulders inward and left a small warmth in your chest. This was easy. Ridiculously easy. Soobin had always been like this with you—quick to tease, slow to anger, all soft jabs and boyish huffs. Like a habit you never had to think about. He could go hours and hours just bantering with you about the most unimportant topics. 

You reached for the plastic bag sitting on the coffee table, rifling through until you found what you were really after. “You want the last peach?”

He didn’t even hesitate. Sat up like he’d been summoned from the dead. “I do. Really. Deeply.”

You held it just out of reach, twirling it by the stem. “Then admit I’m better than you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then no peach.”

“You’re evil.”

You were about to answer—probably with something smug, possibly with another insult—when he lunged forward.

It wasn’t even a real lunge. More like an exaggerated grab, like he was trying to be ridiculous on purpose. But you misjudged the distance—he was faster than he looked—and suddenly he was right there, fingers overlapping yours, and the peach tumbled from your grip, rolling a few inches before coming to a stop between you. 

You both reached for it at the same time.

And then you were touching.

Just barely—his knuckles brushing yours, the pad of his thumb catching the back of your hand. Your knees bumped, one of his legs tangled slightly with yours from the way he’d thrown himself forward. The closeness was sudden. Clumsy. And absolutely still.

The peach sat in both your palms now, soft and overripe, a little dented from the fall. But you weren’t looking at the peach anymore.

You were looking at him.

He was looking back.

For a second, neither of you spoke. You could feel your heartbeat shift—quicker, louder. Like your body realized something your brain didn’t want to name.

He was close. Too close. 

There was something different about the way he looked at you just then. Like he was searching for something—confirmation, maybe. Permission. Or maybe he wasn’t searching at all. Maybe he was just seeing you, for the first time in a way that wasn’t casual or safe or platonic. You told yourself to laugh. To say something to break it. But your mouth was dry and your fingers were still curled around the stupid peach.

God, you thought, this is just a moment. It doesn’t mean anything. Don’t make it mean something.

Because if you made it mean something, you’d have to face the fact that everything would change between you two, and you weren’t ready for that. 

And worst of all—you didn’t know if he wanted it too.

So you were the first to let go.

“Fine,” you said, easing the peach into his hands, forcing a smile. “You win. Peach privileges restored.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you for a second longer, then pulled back, sitting cross-legged again, the fruit cradled like a trophy.

“You’ll regret this,” he said, voice light again. Too light. “I’m going to crush you in the next round.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and smirked. “Big talk from someone who just got obliterated.”

He took a bite of the peach—flesh soft, juice dripping slightly down his wrist.

You looked away.

Because watching him eat a peach had absolutely no right being that distracting.

“You’re quiet,” he said after a second.

“Just letting you enjoy your victory,” you replied, folding your arms.

“Mm.” He chewed, then added through a mouthful of fruit, “This is the taste of justice.”

You grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at his head.

He laughed, muffled but warm, like it lived somewhere behind his ribcage. Like it was meant just for you.

And later, after he’d gone, after the controller had been set aside and the cushions lazily put back, you sat on the couch and stared at the empty spot where his leg had touched yours.

It was nothing, you told yourself.

But your heart wasn’t convinced.

—

It had been three days since Soobin last came by to accompany you to the hospital. 

Not that you were counting.

Your mom was still in the hospital. Her condition was stable, but “stable” was the kind of word doctors used when they meant unchanged, when the machines still beeped and the days still blurred, and you didn’t know how to exhale without guilt.

So you kept your head down. Worked your shifts. Folded laundry. Refilled the humidifier in her room. Then, one quiet evening, your phone buzzed.

Unknown: You up?

You stared at it for a second too long, the number was foreign to your contact list. The number wasn’t saved. But the timing, the tone—it could only be one person.

Another message came in.

Unknown: This is Soobin, by the way.

Of course it was.

You: No. I’m sleep-texting. You

The three dots appeared. Vanished. Then came back again, like he was typing and deleting and thinking too much—just like always.

Soobin:

Maybe. Or just bored.

 Wanna walk?

You didn’t answer.

Fifteen minutes later, you were outside. Hoodie zipped to your chin, hands in your pockets. The air was cool, kissed with the hush that only lived in your neighborhood at night.

A faint breeze moved through the trees overhead, the streetlamp buzzed quietly, and the sidewalk stretched out ahead like a question you didn’t know how to ask.

He was waiting by the gate. Same hoodie from the other night. Same hands buried in the front pocket. His hair was a little messier now, falling into his eyes like he hadn’t bothered to push it back. He looked like someone trying not to look like he was waiting.

When he saw you, he straightened—not all the way, just enough to seem like he hadn’t been pacing.

“Hey,” he said, voice soft like he wasn’t sure if it would reach you.

“Hey,” you replied, tugging your sleeves over your hands. And then you walked. Not toward anything in particular. Just forward. Side by side. Close enough to hear the other breathe.

The silence wasn’t awkward. If anything, it felt… familiar. Like this was a rhythm you both used to know. Like your feet still remembered how to fall into step with his even if your hearts hadn’t caught up yet.

After a while, he spoke.

“I’ve been writing again,” he said, just above a whisper.

You glanced at him. His eyes stayed on the sidewalk. “Yeah?”

“Mostly bad stuff,” he added with a breath of a laugh. “But… some of it feels honest.”

You nodded. “That’s the hard part.”

There was a pause.

“I used to write when I missed home,” he said.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. But he kept going anyway, his voice quieter now. Like if he said it too loud, it would sound like a confession.

“I stopped for a long time. Everything started to sound the same. Even the stuff I wrote just for me—it didn’t sound like me. It sounded like someone trying to remember what real felt like.”

Your chest pinched. Because you recognized that feeling, even if it wore a different face.

“You mean the industry?” you asked, your voice gentler than you meant it to be. He nodded, hands tightening in his sleeves. “The schedules, the shoots, the interviews where they ask you how you’re doing and expect you to say you’re grateful.”

You looked over. His face was still turned ahead, but his jaw was set—like he was fighting back something that had been building for years.

“It looks big,” he said. “To other people. All the lights and cameras and screaming fans. But most of the time, it felt… small. Like I was inside this beautiful box I couldn’t leave. Like I was shrinking in a place everyone said I was meant to grow.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Not at first. Because it was Soobin—your Soobin. The one who used to doodle lyrics on his wrists during exams. The one who used to talk about Seoul like it was a promise.

And now he was here. Telling you the promise didn’t keep.

“I used to envy you,” you murmured.

He turned his head slightly, startled. “What?”

“You had direction. Purpose. You left. While the rest of us stayed behind wondering what we were doing. You knew.”

“I didn’t,” he said quickly. “I pretended I did.”

You exhaled, eyes on the path ahead.

He slowed, enough that you had to slow too.

“I didn’t reach out,” he began to answer your life’s biggest question, “because I was afraid if I told you how bad it was, you’d tell me to come home.”

You stopped. Right there on the path.

“And that would’ve been so awful?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even. “Me wanting you to come home?”

He looked down.

“It would’ve made it real,” he said. “Made me feel like I failed.”

The ache that had been sitting under your ribs stretched, deep and familiar.

The wind stirred again, carrying the sound of distant cars and rustling trees. Then, your voice dropped. “You know, Soobin… you did a good job.”

His eyes shot up to meet yours. Cautious. Almost confused. You let the words settle before continuing.

“I mean it. You chased something you believed in. You worked hard. You got somewhere people only dream about.” You swallowed. “You just… never took a second to see how far you’d gone. You kept running like someone was going to take it away from you.”

His mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out.

“You should let yourself rest,” you said. “You deserve to breathe.”

He looked at you like no one had ever said that to him before. Not in the way that mattered.

And maybe no one had. A silence fell again, but it was different now. Thick with emotion, weighted with years of distance and grief and care that had nowhere to go.

Soobin stepped forward—not enough to cross the space between you, but enough that you felt the warmth of him again.

“I’m trying to be better,” he said quietly. 

Your throat tightened.

You didn’t know what to say. Not yet. So instead, you reached for the edge of your hoodie sleeve and twisted it around your fingers, grounding yourself in the way you used to back when emotions felt too big to hold.

And beside you, Soobin just stood there.

Not asking to be forgiven, not like he had to. 

Just… asking to stay a little longer.

–

The hospital room was quieter than usual.

Your mom was asleep, or at least pretending to be. Her breaths came soft and even, her fingers curled loosely around the edge of the blanket. The late afternoon light filtered through the slats in the blinds, painting thin gold bars across the white walls. Outside, the city buzzed softly beneath the window, too far away to touch.

You sat by the bed, elbow propped on the armrest, chin resting in your hand. The chair creaked when you shifted. You’d meant to read. Meant to answer that message from work. But your mind kept drifting—backward, sideways, toward things that hadn’t happened yet but already pressed too heavy on your chest.

Soobin hadn’t texted since the walk.

Three days wasn’t long. Not really.

But you found yourself reaching for your phone more than usual. Pausing at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Imagining him leaning on the doorframe again, holding some half-thought-out excuse to stop by. You hated how easily hope made a home out of silence.

Your mom stirred, just slightly, eyes fluttering open. “You’re still here?”

You smiled faintly. “Where else would I be?”

She looked at you for a beat longer than usual. “You’ve been coming earlier,” she said, voice scratchy from sleep. “Staying longer, too.”

You shrugged. “There’s not much else to do.”

“Mm.” She turned her head to the side, watching you now. Not like she was accusing—more like she was waiting. “He’s been coming around again.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just stared at the window, at the sky that had turned that in-between color of fading blue and soft orange.

“Yeah,” you said eventually.

“He’s been good to you,” she added, gently. “I see it.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, heart doing that stupid thing again—like it couldn’t decide whether to clench or melt.

“He’s not staying,” you said. Your mom didn’t answer right away. That kind of silence said more than any reply.

You leaned back in the chair, eyes flicking up to the ceiling. “I don’t know why it matters. It’s not like we’re… anything.”

“But you want to be?” she asked softly.

You didn’t look at her. “It wouldn’t make a difference.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You exhaled, long and slow. “It doesn’t matter what I want. He came back because of his health. Because he needed space from all that. He’s not… this isn’t forever.”

And if you let yourself want something more like last time—if you gave it a name—what would happen when he left again?

She was quiet for a long time. Then, just as you were about to change the subject, her voice returned. “You know,” she said, “I think the hardest kind of love is the kind that feels temporary.”

You blinked. “This isn’t–this isn’t love.” You protested.

She didn’t argue. Just gave you a look that said she’d been your mother long enough to know when you were lying—to her or to yourself.

You shook your head, staring down at your hands. “It’s not like I’m holding onto something that could actually last.”

“But you’re still holding it,” she murmured.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because yeah. You were.

You were holding the way his voice sounded in quiet places. The way he never pushed when you went silent, just waited with that kind of patience that only people who’d known you for years could manage. You were holding the way he remembered the things you forgot you ever told him. The way he looked at you like he didn’t know how to stop.

And it scared the hell out of you.

Because people leave. Sometimes they come back. But rarely do they stay.

Your mom reached out, her fingers brushing yours. “It’s okay to be scared,” she said gently. “It’s not okay to pretend you don’t feel anything.”

You didn’t respond.

You just stared at the sunlight crawling across the linoleum floor, and wondered how long you could keep pretending that what you felt was nothing.

–

The engine made a low, confused noise as Soobin turned the key. You braced your hand against the dashboard. Soobin sat up straighter, lips pursed like he was preparing for war. You couldn’t help watching the way his knuckles tensed on the wheel, the way he kept muttering to himself like this was more of a concert performance than a suburban test run.

"Okay," you said cautiously. "Brake. Check your mirrors. Put it in drive—no, that’s reverse. Reverse is—Soobin—!"

The car lurched backward, an alarming jolt that made your seatbelt dig into your collarbone.

“Okay! Okay! Got it!” Soobin slammed the brake, and the car shuddered to a halt. Your heart was somewhere near your throat.

“You almost ran over a mailbox,” you hissed, hands clutched tightly on your seat. “My mailbox!” 

He winced. “It’s still standing.”

“Barely.” He shot you a look. “I told you I didn’t finish my license! You didn’t have to volunteer your car for this.”

“I didn’t think this was what we’d be doing when you said you wanted to ‘catch up.’

“Out,” you ordered. “Switch seats.” He didn’t argue.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you grumbled, turning the key and reversing smoothly out of the lot.

“Aw,” he said, smirking. “You like me.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

You looked at him. He looked back.

There was a beat of silence.

You circled back around the block, only to end up parked in front of your house once again. Soobin spotted the shed that sat behind your house, most importantly, what’s next to it. 

“No way,” he said, rushing ahead.

Sure enough, there they were. Your old bikes. Rusted at the chains, tires flat, but still recognizable.

“I can’t believe you kept mine,” he said, brushing off a handlebar like it was a relic.

“My mom was too sentimental to throw it away. She thought you’d come back.”

He paused.

The air shifted.

“Guess she was right,” he said softly.

You didn’t respond.

–

A few minutes later, you were riding through town—laughing, breathless, avoiding potholes and startled pigeons. Soobin’s bike creaked horribly, but he insisted on pedaling like he was racing someone only he could see.

You took the long route, past the bookstore where you used to loiter, the convenience store where he once bought you a yogurt drink with his last few coins, the bus stop where you used to sit until the streetlights flicked on.

Then he slowed. You turned to look—and watched, helpless, as his front tire clipped a curb and sent him flying.

“Soobin!” He landed with a thud, half in the grass, half on the sidewalk.

You dropped your bike and ran to him.

“Oh my God—are you okay? Why weren’t you paying atten–”

He blinked up at you, dazed. “That bus stop looks exactly the same.”

“You fell off your bike because of nostalgia?!”

He groaned. “I got caught off guard.”

“By a memory?”

“You looked back at me…,” he mumbled.

You stopped. The world stilled for half a second. Then you shoved that away. 

"You're bleeding," you said, kneeling next to him, choosing yet again to overlook the deeper weight hidden in his seemingly innocent words.

It wasn’t bad—just a scrape at his temple, but the sight still made something twist low in your stomach. You pulled a tissue that you luckily had in your pocket and dabbed at the cut. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you murmured, dabbing at the cut with soft fingers. “What if you end up with a scar? Your fans might actually riot.”

He winced, sucking in a breath.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said, eyeing you suspiciously.

“I’m not,” you said, lips twitching.

“You’re not even trying to be gentle.”

“I am,” you lied—though your touch grew just a little softer.

But your hands had slowed. And now that you were this close, you couldn’t help but really look at him. His hair was a little damp, curling slightly at the edges. There was a faint smudge of dirt on his cheek, and the cut on his brow was still fresh—but none of it dulled him. If anything, it made him feel more real. Not the polished idol with perfect lighting and stage smiles, but Soobin—your Soobin. 

The boy who used to race you home on bikes, who got grass stains on his knees and laughed until he fell over. And maybe that’s why your breath caught, just a little, because his eyes weren’t darting away this time. He wasn’t teasing or laughing. Just looking. Steady. Unafraid.

It felt like the earth was tilting under you.

He reached up, fingers brushing your wrist—soft, tentative. But you stood up before the silence could grow teeth.

“C’mon, head injury or not, we’re riding back. You can’t die dramatically knowing that it was a curb that took you out”

He laughed, clutching his ribs. “You’re such a comfort.”

You didn’t tell him that if he’d looked at you for one more second like that, you would’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Because your pulse still hadn’t returned to normal. And your heart didn’t know if it was from the fall…

…or from him.

—-

The rain started halfway through the ride home. Not a drizzle, not a soft mist. No, the sky decided to absolutely open up on you.

“Seriously?!” you shouted up at the clouds as you and Soobin coasted to a slow, skidding stop under a half-dead tree. Soobin was already laughing, clothes plastered to his skin, hair dripping into his eyes. “This is kind of perfect, though. Right? Very K-drama of us.”

You glared. “I’m going to get sick. You’re going to get sick.”

“I already feel stronger. This is character-building.”

You groaned and dropped your head back. “I hate you.”

“You keep saying that,” he said, wheeling his bike alongside yours, “but I’m starting to think you just like having an excuse to say my name angrily.”

You opened your mouth, ready to shoot something back—but a particularly angry clap of thunder cut through the air. You both jumped.

“Let’s just go home...” You muttered.

By the time you made it back to your house, you were soaked through—shoes squelching, hair matted to your cheeks, laughter still catching in your throats between shivers. You tossed your bike on the porch without care, unlocking the door as quickly as your frozen fingers would let you.

“Leave your shoes by the door,” you told him, kicking yours off with a squelch. “And try not to drip everywhere.”

Soobin peeled his hoodie over his head with a groan. “That’s an impossible task. I’m basically a human sponge.”

You grabbed a towel from the bathroom and threw it at his face. “Here. Dry off, Mr. Sponge.”

“I’ll need a medal for surviving this ride.”

“You’ll get a warm meal and some dry clothes, and you’ll like it.”

He grinned, following you into the hallway. “Wait. Dry clothes?”

"Yeah. I think I still have one of your old sweatshirts lying around" you said over your shoulder, stopping just outside your room. You glanced back at him, standing awkwardly in the hallway, damp hair dripping and clothes clinging to him like a soggy afterthought. He looked like a miserable, oversized puppy.

"If it even fits..." you mumbled under your breath.

Because looking at him now, you weren’t so sure. He’d always been tall, but somewhere between the boy who used to sprawl across your couch and the man standing there now, he'd filled out—broad shoulders, long limbs, that quiet weight people carry when they've grown into themselves. It was weird. Familiar. 

“You still have that?”

You shrugged, trying not to overthink the warmth crawling up your neck. “It’s a good sweatshirt.”

“Can I have it back?”

“No.”

He laughed, and you disappeared into your room, pulling out the hoodie in question—still soft and oversized—and a pair of sweatpants you knew would be way too short on him, but it’d have to do.

You handed him the clothes and pointed him toward the bathroom. “Go. Change. And hang your stuff up unless you want it smelling like mildew forever.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, mock saluting.

When he disappeared behind the door, you exhaled. Why did this feel like something?

You pushed your wet hair back and padded into the kitchen to grab some water, heart still annoyingly thudding. Rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers, and somewhere in the background, the bathroom door creaked as he rummaged through a drawer for a comb, a towel, who knew.

After changing into dry clothes, you settled onto the couch, towel in hand as you ran it through your damp hair. Without thinking, you reached into your pocket for your phone and opened reels—more out of muscle memory than intention.

You scrolled for a good minute before pausing.

There it was.

A video of Soobin. Blonde Soobin. All black suit, legs spread like he owned gravity, eating some sort of sour candy in that dazed, effortless idol way that did things to people.

The sound was some kind of slowed-down R&B  track. The caption read: “what do you mean he’s not my boyfriend??”

You snorted and shook your head, tapping the screen like you meant to scroll past it.

“You watching fan edits of me?”

You jumped, your heart skipping a beat.

Soobin was standing just behind the couch, freshly changed, a towel draped loosely around his neck as he rubbed at his damp hair. His cheeks were flushed pink—not from embarrassment, but from the lingering warmth of the shower. The faint scent of your soap clung to him, familiar and comforting.

You scrambled for words, panic rising in your chest. “N-no.”

He raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, the hint of a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady your voice. “It just popped up on my For You page!” you insisted, your tone shooting up an octave in protest.

“That’s not how the algorithm works,” he teased, eyes sparkling as he leaned in a little. “I can literally see you liked it.”

You huffed, flinging your phone onto the couch as if it had personally betrayed you. “I didn’t save it or anything.”

“I’m flattered,” he said, grinning as he walked slowly around the couch and flopped down beside you. The heat radiating from his body made the space between you feel smaller, cozier.

“I didn’t know you were into the blonde era,” he added with mock surprise.

You tried not to look at him, but it was impossible. His warmth seeped into you, grounding you in a way that made your chest ache with something tender and unfamiliar. He smelled like your soap—clean, soft, and utterly real.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively, “you looked ridiculous.”

He laughed—a low, easy sound that made your heart flutter. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

You risked a glance at him—and made the mistake of meeting his eyes.

Something electric passed between you, and it wasn’t from the static of the hoodie. It was heavier. Warmer. Your breath stuttered. You could say this, right? You were friends, right?

“You know,” you started, voice quieter, “it’s kinda unfair.”

He tilted his head. “What is?”

You picked at a loose thread on the couch cushion, pretending not to notice the way his thigh was pressed against yours.

“You look like that, even if you’re just eating.”

He blinked.

The teasing fell out of his expression like someone had pulled a thread loose. You looked at him—really looked.

And there it was again. That thing that hung between you like a held breath. That invisible thread that pulled tighter and tighter every time you got close enough to see each other clearly.

His hand caught your wrist just as you were about to step away.

You froze, startled by the gentle hold, your heart skipping a beat.

His hand closed around your wrist—gentle, hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you but couldn’t let the moment slip away without trying.

You froze.

Not because it was dramatic or shocking, but because your body had trained itself to notice every tiny shift around Soobin. The way his fingers were warm against your skin. The way his thumb hovered just slightly, like he thought about brushing it across your wrist but didn’t.

When you looked at him, really looked, he was already looking away—blushing.

His ears were a little pink at the tips, and the expression on his face was… shy. Maybe even a little self-conscious, like he was trying to laugh it off before you said anything that would make it worse.

“That clip you saw…” he said, clearing his throat, his voice softer than usual. “It’s not really me looking good or anything.”

You blinked. “What?”

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, still not letting go of you. “That livestream—the one with the blonde hair and the… uh, the sitting posture.” He made a vague motion, embarrassed. “We were just coming off a performance. Everyone was still in stage makeup, and the stylists kind of go all out when there’s press watching. It’s not really how I… look. Normally.”

He wasn’t even making eye contact now, suddenly fascinated with a dent in the hardwood floor.

“I mean, they style us a certain way. The lighting’s good. The outfits are picked for us.” He glanced up, almost sheepish. “It’s not real-real.”

You didn’t answer right away. You were too busy staring.

Because here was Soobin—not the idol, not the polished version beamed out to millions—but your Soobin. The one who got defensive about reverse parking and couldn’t cook instant noodles without supervision. The one whose hoodie sleeves still hung past his wrists, whose hair was a little damp from the rain, whose voice always got smaller when he was trying to be honest.

And he didn’t know. He didn’t know that the moment he tried to downplay it, you somehow liked him even more. Your heart was doing something dangerous. Something stupid and fluttery. And warm. You smiled, just a little. “So what you’re saying is… the Soobin in that clip is false advertising?”

He huffed a laugh—still nervous, still a bit pink. “Exactly.”

“Well,” you said, pretending to think it over, “I guess I’ll just have to get used to this version of you, then.”

He tilted his head, eyes meeting yours at last. “This version?”

You nodded, trying to act nonchalant even though your pulse was kicking wildly in your throat. “The version that wears wrinkled sweats and drips water on my floor and thinks too much about livestreams from six months ago.”

He smiled, small and real. “That version’s not very cool.”

“Good. I like him better.” You shrugged. “He reminds me of an old friend.”

There was a pause—just long enough to feel like a held breath. His hand was still on your wrist, warmer now. Closer. And even though neither of you said it, something shifted.

He lingered a second longer, still holding your wrist, his thumb brushing your skin in a barely-there touch. Neither of you moved, as if breaking the stillness might shatter something fragile between you.

And then, almost offhandedly—like it wasn’t the kind of thing that would stick with you for days—he said, “You look good too, you know. Even after all these years.”

Simple. Uncomplicated. But it cracked something open in you all the same.

You turned away first.

“I’m gonna go make dinner,” you said quickly, already halfway to standing. “Before I say something else embarrassing.”

He let go, fingers slipping away from yours slowly, reluctantly.

And you walked to the kitchen with your heart in your throat.

Dinner was on the stove.

But it wasn’t the only thing simmering now.

—

You stood in front of the pot, stirring with more intensity than necessary, trying very hard not to think about the compliment Soobin had just casually lobbed at your entire existence. His words still clung to your skin more stubborn than the rain had.

"You look good too."

What did that even mean? You were in an old hoodie, hair still damp, socks mismatched. You looked like a soggy couch cushion with a pulse.

Still. He’d said it. Earnestly. Like he meant it.

You stirred the pot a little too aggressively.

Behind you, Soobin leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching you like he had nowhere else to be—and no desire to be anywhere else. He looked so at ease there, like he belonged in this space, in your space. The hoodie he wore—the one you’d cut around the collar back in high school during a brief “DIY fashion” phase—hung slightly off one of his shoulders now, exposing a sliver of collarbone. Your brain short-circuited every time your eyes drifted that way, completely unprepared for how something so small, so casual, could feel so intimate.

His eyes drifted toward the stove, then to you—quiet, lingering. He wasn’t staring exactly, but it was close. Like he was watching something he couldn’t quite name. Something small and domestic and too warm to look at directly. And when you caught it, just barely from the corner of your eye, it sent a shiver straight down your spine.

He dropped his gaze instantly, toeing at the rug with the tip of his sock like it had personally offended him.

“What… uh, what are you making?” he asked, voice soft. Like raising it too loud might break something fragile.

You tossed chopped onions into the pan with a hiss. “Soup,” you said. “It’s quick. It’s easy. And you probably won’t die eating it.”

Soobin gave a little laugh—short and breathy. “That’s a really strong endorsement.”

“I’ve seen your cooking, Choi. This is already an upgrade.”

He gasped, hand clutching his chest like you’d mortally wounded him. “You don’t forget anything, do you?”

“Three different instant noodles. All undercooked. All aggressively beige.”

“That was years ago!” he protested, a smile tugging at his lips. You nudged him with your hip as you passed behind him. “Just don’t set anything on fire, and we’ll call it a win.”

“I can be helpful,” he mumbled, already reaching for the cutting board. “You just… never let me.”

You glanced at him, amused. “You’re the one who told me not to let you near knives.”

“Right, but like…” He shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “That was before.”

You handed him a block of tofu and the world’s dullest knife. “Okay, Chef of the Year. Tiny cubes. No bleeding.” He took it with an exaggerated sigh. “No faith in me at all.”

You turned back to the stove, only to hear the distinct sound of tofu being… destroyed.

You looked. “That’s a massacre.”

“I panicked,” he muttered, eyebrows drawn together like he was concentrating on defusing a bomb. You stepped beside him without thinking. “Here,” you said, adjusting his grip. “Like this.” Your fingers curled gently around his hand, repositioning his hold on the knife. Your chest brushed his arm. He stilled.

The silence bloomed wide. You felt his breath catch—just barely. Like a sound he wasn’t sure he should let out. When he turned his head, your faces were closer than they’d meant to be. Too close.

“I think I’m messing up on purpose,” he said, voice so low it barely reached you.

You blinked. “Why?” He hesitated. His eyes flicked to your lips, then away again, like he didn’t mean to. “Because, uh… getting corrected isn’t so bad?”

Your heart stuttered.

And for one wild second, you thought he might actually mean it. Not in a joke way. Not in a “we’re just friends messing around” way. But in the kind of way that stayed with you, long after it passed. You pulled back quickly, your voice higher than it needed to be. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are,” he mumbled, looking weirdly pleased with himself. You turned back to the soup before your face could fully betray you. “Dinner’s almost done.”

“Smells good.” The way he said it—it wasn’t loud or performative. Just warm. Quiet. Like he meant it and didn’t know how to say much else.

“I can, um… I can set the table,” he offered after a beat, fiddling with the towel draped over the chair. “If that helps.”

“It’s just two plates.”

“Still,” he said, moving toward the cupboard. “Feels like the least I can do.”

You watched him open drawers like he didn’t remember where anything was—even though he’d been to your kitchen more than once. Even though this version of Soobin—the soft one, the one who tiptoed through domestic spaces like they were breakable—was getting harder and harder to pretend didn’t feel different.

By the time you both sat down, your pulse still hadn’t settled.

He waited until you took your first bite before speaking again.

“This feels nice,” he said, toying with his chopsticks. “Like… familiar.”

You looked up. “Familiar how?”

He hesitated. “Like, I don’t know. Like we used to do this all the time. Even if we didn’t.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.” There was a pause. He tapped his chopsticks together gently, then added, “Not like this, though.”

Your stomach tightened. Because you knew what he meant. Not with the late rain tapping at the windows. Not with the soft glow of the kitchen light, the quiet between bites. Not with the way his leg brushed yours under the table like it didn’t mean anything… except it kind of did.

He looked down at his bowl, then back at you, cheeks faintly pink. “It’s probably dumb. Sorry.”

“No,” you said quickly. “It’s not dumb.” You both sat in the quiet that followed, tension settling like steam in the air between you. Soft. Warm. Unspoken.

And still—he glanced at you again, eyes lingering a little longer this time.

“This,” he murmured, almost to himself, “is the part I think I missed the most.”

You didn’t trust yourself to ask what he meant. So you took another bite instead. But your fingers itched where they’d touched his. And you could feel the weight of the moment, real and quiet and waiting for someone to name it.

So neither of you did.

You just stayed like that—two bowls between you, hearts too full for your mouths to keep up.

—

It had been a while since you last saw Soobin. A month, at least.

His mom had mentioned he was out of town visiting family—some cousin’s wedding, maybe. You didn’t ask too many questions. Just nodded, said “ah,” and tried to pretend your chest didn’t ache a little every time you passed his house, reminding you of how alone you felt the first time he had disappeared. 

In his absence, the days blurred. You slipped too easily back into your old routine—working, grocery store runs, folding laundry half-awake, hospital visits that drained more than they gave. You didn’t have time to miss him. You barely had time to be anything other than tired.

But that night… that night was different.

The doctor had been gentle, but that didn’t soften the words. Your mom’s condition wasn’t worsening—but it also wasn’t improving. They’d be moving her into a more intensive unit, “just to keep a closer eye.” That was what they always said. A closer eye. As if that made it better.

You left the hospital numb, your body moving through the motions—bus ride, walking home, dropping your keys in the dish like muscle memory. You kicked off your shoes and sat on the edge of your bed without meaning to.

And before you knew it, you were opening your laptop. Not the mindless doomscrolling of nights past. Not some clip appearing on your for you page by accident.

You typed it out yourself this time.

Soobin. Variety show. “Faves Fave.”

Intentional.

The screen filled with thumbnails—bright, curated images of him laughing, grinning, clutching his stomach as he teased his guests. You clicked one. Then another. Then another. It was like oxygen after two weeks of holding your breath.

He looked… the same. Familiar and not. Confident, magnetic, a little shy around the edges if you knew where to look—which, of course, you did.

And then you found that episode.

The one with the “dating coach” guest.  Just a cute concept—flowers, mukbang, the whole club presentation skit . You watched with your chin in your hand, blinking slowly as he fiddled with his sleeves and answered questions with his soft, hesitant smile.

Until the girl leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and asked with a teasing lilt, “Soobin-ssi, what’s your type?”

He laughed first. Ducking his head, already shaking it. “You’re gonna make me get in trouble…” The staff cackled. The guest encouraged him.

“Someone who… leads?” he finally said, face pink and gaze darting away. “I’m more… I think I’m usually… the follower type.” The camera zoomed in. He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking utterly sheepish.

You sat frozen, mouse hovering over the pause button. Your stomach did something ridiculous.

It was the way he said it—like it wasn’t meant to be scandalous. Just honest. Earnest. And yet your brain short-circuited.

He wasn’t lying.

Over the next few days, you found yourself spiraling. Not in a dangerous way. Just… quietly. Internally. You kept replaying his words—the shy, almost whispered confession that he liked being led. That he was the follower, not the leader. It was a simple thing, but it hit you in a way you didn’t expect.

You found yourself wondering what that really meant—how it would feel to be the one guiding him, to be the person he trusted enough to follow. It was strange how just thinking about it made your chest tighten, your skin buzz with something like electricity. You tried to tell yourself it was just the stress, the exhaustion, the endless waiting for your mom to get better. But you knew better.

When you saw him again, it was like the air between you had shifted, though nothing had really changed. You were hanging out like usual—talking, laughing, stealing quick glances at each other—but now every look carried weight. Every casual brush of your hands or accidental touch sent your heart racing.

Soobin was the same—soft-spoken, a little awkward, but somehow more open, more vulnerable. He wasn’t joking when he said he liked being led. You could see it in how he deferred to you on small things, how he hesitated before making decisions, like he was waiting for your cue. And you? You were barely holding yourself together inside.

The doorbell rang just as you were finishing up dinner—your hands still a little flour-dusted, the kitchen smelling faintly of garlic and rosemary. You wiped them on your apron, heart skipping in a way that was maybe more than just nerves about having company. 

When you opened the door, Soobin was there, standing with that familiar, slightly sheepish smile that always made your chest tighten. His hair was a bit tousled from the wind, and his eyes held that soft, tentative look you’d come to know so well.

 “Hey,” he said quietly, voice low like he was trying not to disturb the calm. 

“Hey,” you replied, stepping aside to let him in. 

He kicked off his shoes like he always did—neatly, side by side by the door, like a good guest. Like someone who belonged.

You didn’t say anything, just followed him with your gaze as he wandered into the kitchen, peering into the pot on the stove.

“Ooh,” he said, drawing out the sound, his voice lilting with approval. “It smells like… actual food. I thought you were just gonna microwave ramen.”

You rolled your eyes, your heartbeat thudding annoyingly fast. “Excuse you. I am a cooking god.”

He was joking. You knew that. Just Soobin being Soobin—soft and playful and a little smug without realizing it. But the way he leaned against your counter, arms crossed, sleeves pushed up, collar loose…

Yeah. This was going to kill you. Because he had no idea.

No idea that you’d spent two nights watching him on screen—smiling, laughing, stupidly talking about his ideal type like it was just another throwaway question. Like it hadn’t rearranged something inside you.

“I’m usually the follower type,” he’d said.

And maybe it was stupid, the way your brain latched onto that. The way your body responded like it had been waiting for an excuse. You turned away quickly, grabbing bowls from the cabinet with more force than necessary. Focus.

“So,” he said behind you, “what’s the occasion?”

“What?”

“You cooked. For me. Without bribery or threats involved.” He leaned over your shoulder, just barely, just enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your back. “Should I be worried?”

You forced a laugh. “Maybe I missed having someone around who bugs me while I’m chopping onions.”

“Ah,” he said with mock solemnity. “So I am but a tool for your entertainment.”

You could feel the heat of him behind you—just barely there, just enough to make it impossible to think straight.

Tool for your entertainment, he’d said.

You nearly dropped the ladle.

God, he had no idea what that did to you.

Your brain, already frayed from too many late nights watching his interviews on loop—watching him smile at someone else, laugh at someone else's joke—now seized on that one line, innocent and offhand, like your nervous system needed a final push toward collapse.

"I’m the follower type."

Most people would’ve let it pass. A throwaway comment. But not you. Not after hearing the way he’d said it—voice low, almost shy, like it had slipped out by accident. Like it meant something.

And now here he was. In your kitchen. Wearing your hoodie. Joking about being your “tool,” like the universe had a twisted sense of humor and was testing your ability to not spontaneously combust.

“Sure,” you managed, ladling soup into a bowl with what you hoped was a steady hand. “An incredibly useful tool.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “Wow. I’ve been demoted to household equipment. I used to be someone.”

You bit your lip.

Don’t laugh. Don’t think about what he said. Definitely don’t think about what that would look like.

You turned to hand him the bowl—and instantly regretted it.

He was close. Too close. Close enough that you could see the faint sprinkle of freckles near his collarbone, the soft curve of his throat. Close enough to feel the warmth of him. And worse—close enough to see his smile up close, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that felt entirely, devastatingly sincere; his dimples on full display. 

You passed him the bowl with a shallow breath, eyes on anything but his face. He took it gently. But didn’t step away.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice softer now. Too soft. The kind of softness that pried things loose.

You looked up. Mistake number two. His brows were slightly furrowed, gaze searching—not teasing this time, not even curious. Just… concerned. Like he could feel the ripple of something under the surface but didn’t know where it led.

“I’m fine,” you said too fast, too light. “Just tired.”

He didn’t argue, but the way he looked at you made it clear he wasn’t buying it completely. Still, he nodded, letting the moment settle.

You grabbed your own bowl and sat down quickly, needing the table between you. Needing space. Needing something solid to keep you from doing something stupid like saying the actual thoughts screaming in your head.

He sat across from you, legs tucked up like always, like your living room wasn’t any different from his. Like no time had passed at all. Like he hadn’t just accidentally unraveled you with a single joke and a borrowed hoodie.

Like he belonged here.

And you let him. Of course you did. Even now, even with your pulse skipping and your thoughts stuck on that clip. The one where he’d smiled, soft and unguarded, and said “I don’t mind being told what to do,” and the room had laughed, but you hadn’t.

Because it hadn’t felt like a joke to you.

It had felt like a truth. One he hadn’t meant to share. One you couldn’t unhear.

And now it sat in your chest like a secret too big to hold. A glowing ember you couldn’t stamp out.

He slurped a spoonful of soup and let out a satisfied hum. “So what’s in this? Other than the tears you shed while I was gone”

You swallowed hard, fighting for focus. “Garlic. Herbs. A careful measure of what’s left of my sanity.”

He snorted. “Well, it’s seasoned perfectly.”

You gave him a weak smile, cheeks already warm, though it had nothing to do with the stove.

Because this wasn’t just banter anymore. This wasn’t normal. It was familiar, yes—but in a way that felt dangerous now. Because the more he settled back into your life, into your house, into the clothes you used to sleep in—the harder it became to separate who he used to be from what he was starting to mean now.

He had no idea. None. He didn’t know that every casual smile, every soft laugh, every offhanded comment was completely undoing you. You glanced up—and found him already watching you.

You froze.

“What?”

He blinked like he hadn’t meant to get caught. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “You’re just… quiet tonight.”

You looked down at your bowl.

“Yeah,” you said again. “Just tired.”

He didn’t press, but his gaze lingered, and in the stretch of silence that followed, you wondered—just for a second—if he saw it. The shift. The crack in your composure. The storm is blooming just beneath your skin.

But then he took another bite. Casual. Comfortable.

And you sat there, across from the boy who was quietly ruining your life, wondering how much longer you could pretend it wasn’t happening.

—-

EIGHT YEARS AGO

It had been the class field trip to the mountains—the last big outing before graduation.

Everyone had been buzzing about it for weeks: a whole day out of school. You hadn’t planned on going at first—too many people, too much noise—but your friends insisted. And somewhere deep down, beneath your careful excuses, you knew Soobin would be there.

And yeah. Maybe that was the real reason you said yes.

The day itself was easy. Light. The sun shimmered across the water, laughter bounced off the docks. Soobin had helped pass out life jackets, sleeves rolled up, hair pushed back by the wind, that easygoing smile on his face. He was joking with everyone, relaxed—but his eyes kept finding you. When he thought you weren’t looking.

You caught him once. Watching.

He smiled. You looked away.

It should’ve felt warm. Comforting. Safe.

But then, later—when everyone was crowded around a picnic table, eating soggy sandwiches and swatting mosquitoes—you overheard it.

Two classmates, sitting a few feet behind you. One of them is his friend. The other a notorious gossip.

“I’m telling you,” one said, tearing into a juice pouch. “Soobin was gonna ask her to the lake.”

“Her? Seriously?”

“Yeah. Said he’d do it if she said yes to coming. But then he got all weird. Said she shuts down whenever he gets close. But, like, you can tell. He does everything she says. It’s kind of sad.”

You froze, a sandwich half-bitten in your hand.

He was going to ask you. You hadn’t imagined it. The quiet tension, the soft attention—it had meant something. And maybe, just maybe, it still would have meant something.

But then came the second realization. The one that burrowed deeper.

He would’ve done it just because you came. 

Because you said yes.

Because he always listened.

Because he always followed your lead.

And you couldn’t breathe.

Because if he liked you like that—really liked you—then that meant being wanted. Being chosen. Again. And what had that ever brought anyone?

Everyone you loved either left or got sick. That wasn't a coincidence. That was you.

You had started to believe, somewhere in the quiet dark, that maybe you were the problem. That maybe there was something inside you—ruinous and invisible—that made people go. Like you carried a sickness only the people closest to you ever caught.

And Soobin? Soobin was the kind of boy who would’ve followed you straight into the storm, no questions asked.

He didn’t deserve that.

So you shut down.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. You avoided his gaze. Didn’t laugh at his jokes. When the canoes got pulled out, you volunteered for the group on the other end of the lake. You didn’t even sit near him on the bus ride back.

And the texts, later that night? Left unread.

When he approached you in the hallway the next week, worry in his eyes, asking if something was wrong—you shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. And then walked away.

You never told him why. Never told him that your silence wasn’t about him. It was about you. What you believed you did to the people who loved you.

He didn’t chase after you. Not out loud. But you saw him watching you in class a few times after that. Quiet. Like he was waiting for a sign that never came. The last time you saw him was three days after the hike. He was standing by the bike racks after school, bag slung over one shoulder, kicking gravel. He looked up when you walked out with your friends.

You paused.

He straightened. Took a half step forward. “Hey.”

You stopped. Barely. “Hey.”

“I just wanted to ask if I… said something wrong?”

He looked so unsure, so open, so soft. All you wanted was to walk back toward him. Say something. Say everything.

But you didn’t.

You gave him a weak smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.” Then you left.

No final goodbye. No explanation. Just silence.

And that was the last time you saw Soobin. Before the auditions, the debut, the lights and cameras and screams and fame turned him into someone the whole world watched. You’d think about that moment by the fence. About how he would’ve done anything for you, if you’d only let him.

But you hadn’t.  Because somewhere deep down, you still believed you were the thing that made people sick. And you couldn’t let him catch it too.

So instead, you let him go. Quiet. Clean. Cowardly.

And the worst part?

You were never sure if he even hated you for it.

—

The soup was gone. The dishes were rinsed, half-drying on the rack.

The living room was dim now, only the lamp in the corner still on, casting long golden light over everything. The night had settled in soft around you—quiet, still, deceptively calm. Soobin was sprawled out on your couch, legs long and socked feet hanging off the edge like he forgot how tall he was. You sat on the floor with your back against the coffee table, scrolling through a playlist on your phone, pretending like you weren’t hyper-aware of his presence. Of the warmth of his thigh brushing the cushion where your elbow rested. Of the way his eyes followed you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You were looking.

“Wanna watch something?” you offered, keeping your voice casual. “You haven’t seen the new season of that show you liked, right?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, quiet for a second. “I kinda just wanna sit like this.”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t, really. Your mouth had gone dry. Because the way he said it wasn’t teasing. It was simple. Earnest.

Like this.

With you. In your space. With your things and your scent on the throw blanket and the memory of your hand on his guiding a knife hours ago. He turned his head a little, resting his cheek on the back of the couch.

“You’re really quiet tonight,” he said again. “Not just tired, quiet… It’s like…you’re thinking too much.”

You stared ahead at the wall, the grain in the wood, the dust in the lamp’s halo of light.

“I’m always thinking too much.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “But this feels different.”

You drew your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around them.

“I just…” You hesitated. “I think I’ve forgotten how to be around you.”

He blinked. Sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you said, trying to laugh, trying to swallow the tension, “we hang out like this and it’s supposed to feel easy, but it doesn’t anymore.”

He looked at you carefully. Slowly.

And then, softer than before: “Why doesn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He let the silence stretch a beat longer, then got up.

You thought maybe he was going to leave. But instead, he walked over and sat beside you on the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder. Close. Warm.

“Can I ask you something?” he murmured.

You turned your head. “You just did.”

He gave you a look, but there was no bite to it. Only hesitation.

“Did I do something?” he asked.

Your heart thudded.

“No,” you said quickly. “No, it’s not—” You exhaled hard. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?”

You turned your face toward your knees, hiding your expression. But his voice followed, low and careful.

“You didn’t do anything,” I say again, quieter this time—almost a whisper, like if I say it soft enough, maybe it’ll unravel the knot tightening in my chest.

Soobin stays still. Not a word. No response. He just waits.

And somehow, that silence makes everything harder to bear.

I press my cheek against my knee, voice muffled and uneven. “It just got me thinking… back in high school. That field trip to the mountains.” You don’t know why you’re bringing this up now. 

I feel the faintest tilt of his head, a subtle sign he’s listening, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.

“After that trip…” I trail off, twisting the sleeve of my shirt around my fingers, the fabric rough beneath my skin. “I don’t know why—” The words catch in my throat, and the room feels heavy with unspoken things. I swallow hard. “I don’t know why I stopped talking to you.”

Lies. Lies. Lies. Because I know the truth, but it’s too fragile, too raw to say out loud.

Finally, I steal a glance at him—just for a moment.

His face softens. There’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes, maybe something else too. Something like understanding. Or forgiveness.

And in that quiet exchange, it feels like a small crack opens in the wall between us—fragile, but real.

He shifts beside me, the couch groaning beneath his weight. Then, softly:

“I didn’t know,” he says.

His voice is different now. Not teasing. Not soft for the sake of comfort—but careful. Honest.

“I thought…” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s nervous. “I thought maybe you didn’t like me. That I was too much.”

My heart stutters.

“You weren’t,” You say quickly, instinctively. “You weren’t too much. You were just…”

You falter again. He looks at you now—really looks at you—and you feel like he’s seeing through every version of you you’ve built up over the years.

“I overheard some guys talking about you,” You keep going, twisting the sleeve of your shirt around your fingers. “They said you were going to ask me out, maybe confess something.”

So much silence. 

“And it just... freaked me out.” 

You don’t say it lightly. You say it like a confession, like a weight lifted from your shoulders but also like a wound reopened. Because it costs you something to admit.

“I didn’t know how to deal with it,” You admit, voice catching a little. “The idea that you might like me... that I might have to say it back.”

You finally glance at him—just for a second. His face softens. A flicker of surprise, maybe something else.

“So I did the worst thing,” You confess, taking a shaky breath. “I avoided you.”

You swallow hard. “I told myself it didn’t matter. That I’d forget. But I never did.”

He stays quiet longer than you  want. You think maybe You’ve ruined everything.

“You know,” he says after a long moment, “I used to think about that field trip a lot.”

You turn toward him.

“I kept wondering if I said something wrong. Maybe I embarrassed you.”

“You didn’t.”

He nods. “I know that now. But back then…”

His voice drifts. There’s a different kind of sadness in it. Not bitter. Just the kind that comes from remembering a version of yourself who didn’t know better.

“…I guess I needed you to say this more than I realized,” he finishes.

You both don’t say anything for a while after that. The silence between you isn’t empty—it’s full of things finally said, finally heard.

Then—like the Soobin you’ve always known—he cracks a crooked grin, glancing sideways at me.

“So…” he says, light but sincere, “now that we’ve established we were both emotionally constipated teenagers…”

You snort. “You’re the worst.”

He nudges your shoulder again, softer this time. “Just saying. We had a lot of potential for a coming-of-age drama. Tears, longing stares, tragic misunderstandings.”

“And a bad soundtrack,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, though something twists in your chest. “You would’ve done well with a sad ballad.”

“Oh, definitely,” he murmurs, looking forward now, like he’s watching a movie that only he can see. “Fade to black. Cue emotional credits.”

You smile faintly at that. Or maybe you try to. Because the warmth between you—the comfort, the quiet—it feels like something that could settle. Something that could stay.

But then the silence stretches again. Not like before. This one sharpens. Something shifts in the air, almost imperceptibly, and you feel it before you hear it. The way Soobin suddenly exhales, the weight in his shoulders changing.

You glance at him.

He’s not smiling anymore. His eyes darken with something unsaid—an emotion too raw to voice but too heavy to hide.

In that moment, the space between you changes. It’s no longer just a shared past. It’s a crossing point.

A line drawn. Between what was… and what could be.

And somehow, without words, you both know it.

This is the turning point.

The moment everything begins to change. His eyes darken, intense and searching, as they lock onto yours. The world narrows until it’s just the two of you—breath mingling, hearts hammering in sync.

He had gotten a bit buffer, a bit healthier, and his hair only a bit longer as you caught from them peeking out of his beret. He looked handsome as hell, and there was this thing about his standard uniform that only enhanced all of this.

“Oh, what smells so good in here?” Jaehyun asked after having given you a long hug. “I’m actually so hungry!”

There was one thing on your list that you now remembered you had totally forgotten to put on.

“Yes, me too,” you agreed, grabbed him by his collar and pulled him down to you while his beret went flying all the way to the floor.

____

“Show me what you’ve worked so hard on in the military, Jaehyun,” you purred and let yourself fall back onto the bed. “Show me what I’ve been missing out on for so many months.”

Jaehyun pushed your legs together with his thighs when he gently settled on top of you. His jacket and shirt had long been taken off by your hasty fingers that had struggled with opening the buttons in excitement of what was underneath all that fabric. 

Now, his prominent chest muscles were flexing on top of you, and you stretched out your hands to touch them, but Jaehyun was quick in grabbing your wrist and pinning your arm above your head. He did the same to your other arm and locked them in place against the pillow with only one of his hands.

He then grinned at you. “Very well. I’ll show you.”

You didn’t even try to pry yourself from his grip, but anticipated the joy when he bent down. The expected kisses on your lips or neck never happened though. Instead, you felt his hot lips on your chest, soon followed by a warm wetness on the tip of your mound when he let his tongue drape over your nipple. Taking it between his teeth, Jaehyun tugged slightly on the skin, and you yelped in surprise, wriggling in his grip.

“You cannot imagine how much I had to restrict myself during all this time,” he said when he came up again, facing your flushed and hot face.

“Don’t worry,” you snickered. “We have two weeks to make up for all of it.”

“But I fear, even if we do it during all hours of the day, it might not be enough for all the pent up desire I have built.”

Jaehyun let go of you and got up on both of his knees. With his hands on his belt, he freed his pants from the tightness with a clattering sound. His cock sprang free and had long reached its peak height. You licked over your licks, wanting to taste him and take all of him into your mouth. 

So you arose and slowly placed your fingers around his girth. He was thick and so hard, already pulsing regularly in your palms, and it only took you a few strokes until Jaehyun begged you to stop,

“Please... Otherwise it will end right here.”

You were also aware that months of yearning didn’t leave much room for long and extensive foreplay. Perhaps, you could wake him in the morning with a little treat, but until then, you were more than willing to finally have him inside you again. 

You helped Jaehyun out of his pants before you took off your underwear as well. He placed his naked body on top of yours, pushing you as far up to the bedhead as possible. 

“You wanna know what I’ve trained so hard for in the military? What these muscles are for?”

“Mmhmm.”

A corner of your lip tilted up when you felt him nudging in your already wet entrance, and you slowly exhaled when he slipped into you as if it were the easiest thing in the world after having made you so hot already flexing his newly gained muscles. You opened your mouth to say this to him, but out came only a sound you hadn’t heard yourself made in so long when Jaehyun suddenly pushed into you with a long stroke.

You were holding onto his shoulders when he first started out slowly and deliberately, his thrusts thoughtful and just according to your liking, which you let him know by moaning slightly into his ear and digging your nails just a little deeper into his muscles. This was what Jaehyun always did though, paying attention to your needs and preferences first, there was no way this man would let go of you unsatisfied. 

“Yes, Jaehyun! Exactly there!”

During the months apart, he hadn’t forgotten what he needed to do, what you liked, and you vocally let him know that.

But when you looked up to Jaehyun, you saw his closed eyes, his gritted teeth and the restraint written all over his sweaty face while he was moving on top of you. This man, who was trying to please you so much, was fighting his own urge to release his pent up desire all at once.

“Jaehyun.” You stretched out your hands and lifted yourself up to kiss him when he halted his movements. “It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry-”

His lips parted again as he was preparing himself to say something more, but you only giggled and kissed him again. “You don’t have to hold yourself back for me.”

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath while having his gaze locked with you. “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Will it be like the time you went on vacation for two weeks?”

His expression suddenly turned a bit sinister. “I believe much worse.”

What to make of his words, you got to know bare moments later after Jaehyun had lifted his upper body up and grabbed onto the headboard, his biceps straining in your sight. 

You whimpered slightly when his thrust rhythm suddenly changed. They were not longing and deep anymore, but hasty and hard, barely giving you a second to breathe whenever he pulled away before pushing back into you with full force. Again, and again, and again.

 “Ah, Jaeh-” Pause to breathe. “-hyun!”

The headboard was constantly banging against the thin wall, and the noise of Jaehyun’s heavy panting mixed with your own begs as you pleaded to him, “Please… more!”

It was usually not your preferred style, but who said you couldn’t try something else every now and then? You lifted up your legs and trapped Jaehyun’s waist between your thighs. He was happy to comply as he kissed your forehead and instead of slowing down, only went faster with his pace, despite your initial doubts whether this was even possible.

But it was, indeed. 

You were holding onto Jaehyun like a lifeline, and while you had to admit that you usually liked it slow and sensual, there was something about him taking you apart in such a wild style that nearly made you lose all your sanity again. At one point, when he was penetrating just the right spot with just the right speed, you even found yourself screaming, muffling the sound while biting into his shoulder.

“A sh-” Jaehyun started, but barely finished with, “I’m so-” Before he groaned and then froze on top of you. 

It was a majestic sight for you, watching your boyfriend cum. The fine line between holding back and the final release, the battle on his face slowly giving in to the long awaited release. He looked so beautiful and hot at the same time.

You felt Jaehyun emptying himself all inside of you, pumping and pumping for much longer than usual while you were just holding him through it, until he needed to let himself slowly back down on you. 

You laid your head on his chest that was still sweaty and irregularly heaving up and down. You let your fingertips trail along his muscles while closing your eyes, and suddenly felt Jaehyun’s arm embracing you from the side.

“I’m sorry I was neglecting you,” he suddenly apologized. 

“What do you mean? I was having so much fun!”

“So… it was good?”

“I don’t mind going rougher every now and then.”

“Hmm. But I was too fast and you didn-”

“It didn’t matter at that moment. It was still enjoyable. Besides…” You moved up and turned on your stomach, bracing yourself on your arms against Jaehyun’s chest and placing your head on them so that you could watch him. “We still have two full weeks for you to do the job more than once. I maybe just need to adjust the initial plans a little… Let me just-” 

You shifted to arise from your position, but Jaehyun reached out his arm and hindered you from doing so by holding onto the back of your head. Gently, he pulled you to him so that you were facing each other closely.

“You don’t want me to show you another thing I’ve practiced so hard for in the army?” he smirked. 

You raised your brows. “Aside from your new strength, what could it be?”