#sohee riize

SHOTARO: praise kink & body worship shotaro is the sweetest dom you’ll ever beg for. his number one turn-on is praise. giving it, receiving it, breathing it into your skin while your body trembles under his. he tells you you're perfect every time you moan, cups your face while you cry through your orgasm and whispers “look at you, doing so good for me.” he holds your hips like you’re breakable, like your body is sacred. the kind of sex he gives is slow, deep, and so full of love it makes you feel like crying. he doesn’t rush. doesn’t chase his own release. he’s all about watching you melt. he’s also completely obsessed with body worship. especially when you’re insecure. he kisses your stretch marks, moans into your thighs, holds your tummy while he fucks you deep and tells you how beautiful you are when you break. “this body drives me insane,” he pants, brushing his lips over every inch of skin you once hid from him. he’ll eat you out with his arms wrapped tight around your thighs, eyes locked on yours like he needs to see how it wrecks you. and when you finally cum? he just smiles and says “that’s it, baby. show me how pretty you are.”

EUNSEOK: possessiveness kink & slow dominance eunseok doesn’t play games. he’s a slow, possessive dom. the type to keep eye contact as he eases in inch by inch, lips brushing your neck as he whispers “you’re mine. no one else gets to see this side of you.” he thrives on ownership: hand around your throat, cum dripping down your thighs, hickeys blooming over your chest. his voice stays calm while he wrecks you, every word firm and possessive. “you need me to remind you again? who this belongs to?” it’s not about jealousy, it’s about claiming what’s already his. he likes it slow. painfully, deliciously slow. he’ll tease your entrance with his cock while pinning your wrists, smirking as you whine for more. he wants to drag it out. watch your expression shift as your body gives in, trembling from how deeply he stretches you. “that’s it. take it all, baby.” he keeps your legs spread wide, his hips grinding down, fucking you through orgasm after orgasm until your brain shuts off. and when you’re ruined, shaking in his lap? he kisses your temple and whispers, “you’ll never need anyone else. not when you have me.”

SUNGCHAN: size kink & cockwarming sungchan is big, cocky, and dangerous. he doesn’t even have to say much. just grips your hips, bites his lip, and lets his body do the talking. his size kink is everything to him. he gets off on how small you look under him, how deep he gets inside you, how your stomach bulges just from his tip. “too much?” he grins, pushing in slower, watching you squirm. “nah, you can take it. look how good you’re doing already.” he holds you in place when you try to run, one arm around your waist, dragging out each thrust until you’re gasping. he also loves cockwarming. slipping inside you after a long day, cuddled up behind you, whispering “just wanna stay like this for a while.” he presses kisses to your shoulder, strokes your tummy while keeping you completely full. and when you clench around him? he chuckles low, “mm, baby… don’t start something you can’t finish.” sometimes he teases you with little thrusts. barely there, just enough to make you whimper. he loves knowing you're wet, desperate, trembling… and can’t do anything unless he says so.

WONBIN: jealousy kink & marking obsession wonbin is quiet until he’s not. his jealousy kink simmers beneath the surface. never explosive, just dangerous. the second someone else makes you laugh a little too hard, he’s got a hand on your waist, lips against your ear: “you think he could make you feel half as good as i do?” and the second you’re alone? he claims you. pulls you onto his lap, fucks you slow and rough until you're a crying mess. he doesn’t even need to raise his voice. it’s the look in his eyes, the way his cock presses so deep you feel it in your stomach. “say you’re mine. louder.” his obsession with marking is unreal. hickeys under your jaw, love bites on your chest, scratches down your thighs. every inch of your body needs to look like it belongs to him. he gets high off watching bruises bloom under his mouth, watching his cum drip out of you, wiping it back in with two fingers like “not done yet.” sometimes he’ll fuck you in front of a mirror, one hand on your throat, the other between your thighs, whispering “look at that. covered in me. exactly how you should be.” and then he kisses your lips like you’re his entire world.

SOHEE: brat tamer & orgasm control sohee’s not soft. he likes control. likes when you test him just so he can shut you up with his cock buried deep, lips curling into a grin as you cry. he’s a brutal brat tamer. not just spanking or pinning you down, but really making you beg. “keep talking,” he smirks while edging you with two fingers, eyes never leaving yours. “see where it gets you.” he knows your body too well. knows exactly when to pull away, exactly when to fuck you dumb, exactly when to lean in and whisper “i warned you.” and it only makes you want him more. his orgasm control is insane. he’ll edge you over and over until your thighs are shaking, your voice cracking, and your mind going numb. “not yet,” he murmurs, pulling his mouth away right before you cum. when he finally lets you finish, it’s because you’re sobbing. shaking. clinging to him like you’ll fall apart. and the second you cum? he keeps going. overstimulation, soft praise, his cock dragging through your tight walls while you tremble underneath him. he likes you ruined. not just once, but until you’re broken for real.

ANTON: emotional dominance & overstimulation anton is sweet, soft-spoken, and so dangerously dominant. he gets off on emotional control. the way your body reacts to his voice, his hands, his low murmurs of “you’re mine, baby… all mine.” he holds you like a lifeline and fucks you like you’ll never have anyone else. he likes when you fall apart in his arms. not just from pleasure, but from how deeply he loves you. his touch is slow, heavy, possessive. and when you cry from how much you feel? he kisses your cheeks and whispers “cry for me. i want it all.” his biggest weakness? overstimulation. he’ll drag it out for hours. mouth on your clit until your voice breaks, cock deep inside while your body begs for a break. but he just cups your face and moans “one more, you can give me one more.” and somehow, you do. he’s the kind of lover who breaks you with sweetness. slow grind, wet kisses, praise melting into filth until your body doesn’t even work right anymore. and when you finally collapse? he wraps you up in his hoodie and lets you cry it out, brushing your hair back like you didn’t just cum six times on his cock.

you laughed. “me too.” he leaned forward with genuine curiosity. “what was yours?” trying not to smile you answered, “i suddenly remembered i left the stove on." he laughed much harder than he intended to and before long you were laughing with him.

it was strange. barely thirty minutes earlier you couldn’t wait to leave. now you’d completely forgotten to check the time. when the waiter returned to your table and asked, “are we ready to order?” you looked over at shotaro. he looked back at you before asking with a small smile, “i guess we’re staying?” you pretended to think it over before replying, “i suppose i can survive another hour.” he smiled in obvious relief. “good. because i haven’t actually eaten all day.”

by the time dinner was over the restaurant had started emptying around you yet the conversation never really stopped. somehow you had covered everything from work and family to embarrassing childhood stories and favorite foods without either of you acknowledging that this was technically supposed to be a blind date. when the bill finally arrived both of you reached for it at the same time. your hands brushed together before you instinctively pulled away. “sorry,” you both said at exactly the same time making you laugh all over again. shotaro smiled before asking, “can i be honest?” you nodded. “go ahead.” he hesitated for only a second before admitting, “this was a lot better than i expected.”

you smiled softly. “same.” the obvious relief on his face made you laugh. “i thought you were going to hate me,” he confessed. “i thought you were going to be weird,” you admitted. he raised an eyebrow. “am i not?” you smiled. “not really.” his grin only grew wider. “give me time.”

once you stepped outside the restaurant neither of you actually headed toward your cars. somehow the conversation just kept going. five minutes turned into ten and ten somehow became twenty before either of you noticed. eventually you checked your phone and laughed. “my friend has texted me six times.” shotaro pulled out his own phone before shaking his head with a smile. “my sister has sent eight.” you looked up at him. “should we tell them the date wasn’t terrible?” he pretended to think it over for a moment before replying, “let’s make them wait.” you laughed. “you’re petty.” he shrugged with a guilty smile. “a little.”

you finally started walking toward your car before stopping halfway there. turning back toward him you caught his attention. “hey.” he looked up immediately. “yeah?” you smiled to yourself before saying, “this doesn’t have to count as the blind date.” he tilted his head in confusion. “what do you mean?” you looked at him for another second before answering, “if we go out again let’s call it the first date instead.” for a moment, shotaro simply stared at you almost as though he was making sure he’d heard you correctly. then the biggest smile spread across his face, “i’d like that.”

sungchan

moving into your new apartment is supposed to be exciting. you’ve spent weeks unpacking boxes, figuring out where everything goes, and imagining how peaceful it’ll be to finally have your own space. that illusion lasts exactly one night. at 1:27 a.m just as you’re about to fall asleep music starts blasting through the wall beside your bed. you stare at the ceiling convinced it’ll stop in a few minutes. it doesn’t. by the time it finally goes quiet it’s almost four in the morning.

the next day is miserable. you survive work almost entirely on coffee and convince yourself it was probably a one time thing. maybe someone had friends over and they were celebrating moving in. midnight rolls around again and right on schedule the music starts. this time it’s followed by what sounds like furniture scraping across the floor and something heavy hitting the wall. you bury your face in your pillow and groan. “what are you doing over there?” you mutter to yourself.

by the fourth night you’ve officially run out of patience. you write the nicest note you can manage, carefully avoiding anything passive aggressive.

hi!

i live next door. i was just wondering if you could keep the music down a little after midnight. the walls are pretty thin.

thanks so much!

you tape it to the neighboring door before leaving for work, fully expecting the problem to be solved. when you get home that evening the note is gone. for one hopeful second but you think maybe your neighbor actually listened. he first song starts playing at 12:30am. somehow it’s louder than before. you sit upright in bed, staring at the shared wall in complete disbelief. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whisper before throwing the blankets off and marching into the hallway. you knock hard enough that your hand stings. a few seconds later the door swings open and your irritation is interrupted by one very inconvenient realization.

your neighbor is hot. like annoyingly, unfairly, ridiculously hot.

he’s tall and dressed in a black hoodie with gray sweatpants. his messy hair somehow made him look better instead of worse. you immediately decide it doesn’t matter. you drill into your head he happens to be the inconsiderate asshole who’s been keeping you awake every night for the past week. he looks at you for a moment completely unbothered, “can i help you?” you fold your arms across your chest. “yeah. you can turn your music down.” he glances over his shoulder into his apartment before looking back at you. “it’s not that loud.” you let out a short humorless laugh. “that’s funny, because i can hear every lyric from my bedroom.” he shrugs without the slightest hint of guilt. “walls are thin.”

you stare at him waiting for him to realize how ridiculous that sounds. when he doesn’t you ask, “that’s your defense?” he gives another lazy shrug. “it’s an old building.” you blink at him. “i left you a note.” his eyebrows lift slightly in recognition. “that was you?” you nod once. “yes.” he nods back just as casually. “i read it.” you wait for the apology that never comes. after a few seconds of silence you tilt your head. “and?” he shrugs again. “i didn’t think it was that serious.” you actually laugh because the alternative would probably get you kicked out of the building. “i haven’t had a full night’s sleep in almost a week.” instead of looking apologetic he tilts his head curiously and asks, “what time do you wake up?” the question catches you so off guard that you answer without thinking. “six.” he lets out a low whistle. “that sucks.” you blink at him in disbelief. “that’s all you have to say?” he looks genuinely confused by the question. “what do you want me to say?” you stare at him for another second before replying “maybe sorry?” he actually considers it, lips pressing together thoughtfully, before giving a small shake of his head. “nah.”

you can’t believe this man is real. “you’re unbelievable,” you say out loud. he lets out an amused laugh before replying, “i’ve heard that. it’s the confidence that annoys you the most you decide. or maybe it’s the smirk. or maybe it’s the fact that he’s objectively attractive and knows it. you notice it obviously. you’re not blind but there is absolutely no chance you’re giving him the satisfaction of knowing that. he could’ve been the hottest man on the planet and it wouldn’t have mattered. as far as you’re concerned he’s still the inconsiderate jerk next door who’s stolen nearly a week’s worth of sleep from you.

you unlock your apartment door and glance back over your shoulder just long enough to tell him, “you’re the worst neighbor i’ve ever had.” he only smiles wider, completely unfazed, “goodnight.” five seconds later the music starts again. you slowly close your eyes, “i actually hate him.”

the weeks after your first argument are somehow even more irritating than the argument itself. the music never gets quite as loud as it used to which almost makes it worse because you know he heard you. instead he seems to keep it at exactly the volume where he can claim he’s being considerate while still making sure you know it’s on. every time you pass each other in the hallway one of you is always leaving just as the other is arriving. he’ll hold the elevator door open and you’ll take the stairs.

before long, the building starts recognizing you as “the neighbors who don’t like each other.” one afternoon mrs. kim from downstairs catches you checking your mailbox and smiles knowingly. “did you two make up yet?” she asks. you don’t even hesitate before answering, “there’s nothing to make up about.” unfortunately sungchan walks into the lobby just in time to hear you. he glances between you and mrs. kim before the corner of his mouth pulls into a smirk. “see?” he says casually. “we’re making progress.” you roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t get stuck. “don’t flatter yourself,” you shoot back before grabbing your mail and walking away. you can hear him chuckle behind you and it takes every ounce of self control not to turn around.

he’s irritating.

you’ve accepted that.

what you don’t expect is to come home one friday night with mascara running down your cheeks. the date had started fine. it had ended with your date checking his phone halfway through dinner and admitting he “wasn’t really looking for anything serious" and then asking if you’d be offended if he left early because his friends had invited him out. you’d smiled, told him it was fine, waited until he left, and then spent the entire ride home crying quietly in the back of your uber.

it’s nearly midnight by the time you get back to your apartment building. you wipe quickly at your face before pushing through the front entrance hoping no one notices. of course, your luck runs out immediately. sungchan is sitting on the front steps with a drink in one hand and an earbud in the other. the second he hears the door open, he looks up. “rough night?” he asks but the teasing tone you’re used to isn’t there. you freeze for half a second before looking away silently praying the poor lighting hides your face. it doesn’t. he quietly pulls his earbud out, studies you for another moment and asks much more softly, “someone made you cry?”

you sniff once, already annoyed that he noticed. “mind your business,” you mumble as you start toward the entrance. normally he would’ve answered with something sarcastic. instead he stands and takes a few steps toward you, stopping far enough away that you don’t feel cornered. “come here,” he says gently. you let out a watery laugh and shake your head. “absolutely not.” he doesn’t push. instead he slips his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and watches you for a second before asking, “did he dump you?” you look away, embarrassed by how obvious it apparently is. “something like that,” you admit quietly. sungchan lets out a disappointed sigh before muttering, “idiot.”

you glance back at him, confused. “you don’t even know him,” you point out. he shrugs. “don’t need to,” he replies. “any guy who makes a girl come home looking like that is an idiot.” for a moment you don’t know what to say. it’s easily the nicest thing he’s ever said to you which somehow makes it even more annoying. you look down at the ground and quietly insist, “i’m fine.” he doesn’t buy it for a second. “no you’re not,” he says and when you repeat, “i said i’m fine,” he simply studies you for another moment before shaking his head. “you’re a terrible liar.”

you roll your eyes at him and scoff. “there it is,” he says with a small smile. he looks oddly pleased with himself. you let out a long sigh and rub under your eyes trying to fix your mascara. “don’t make this weird,” you warn. “i’m trying not to.” the two of you stand there in comfortable silence for a few seconds before sungchan looks down at the sidewalk, kicks lightly at a loose pebble, and says almost absentmindedly, “you know i could treat you way better than that.” the words catch you so off guard that you stop moving.

“excuse me?”

he finally looks back up at you and his expression is completely serious. “i’m serious.” you stare at him searching his face for the punchline. he lets out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “look i’m not saying you should date me,” he says quickly only for you to raise an eyebrow and reply, “you literally just implied it.” “yeah,” he admits after a beat. “that came out a lot smoother in my head.” for the first time you laugh. it slips out before you can stop it. the sound makes him smile. you shake your head still smiling despite yourself. you open the door to the building and look back at sungchan, “you’re still the worst neighbor i’ve ever had.” his hands are still tucked into his hoodie pocket as he follows behind you. “yeah?” he asks.

“yeah."

seunghan

seunghan slipped into the lecture hall just before class started, quietly scanning the room until his eyes landed on the only empty seat left. the one beside you. he hesitated for a second. “… is this seat taken?” he asked softly. you looked around the nearly full classroom before shaking your head. “no.” “oh.” he nodded once. “okay.” he sat down carefully, setting his backpack at his feet. after that, he didn’t say another word. halfway through the lecture your professor asked everyone to compare notes with the person beside them because one of the slides had gone by too quickly.

you turned toward seunghan and he looked up at the exact same time. for a second neither of you spoke then he quietly slid his notebook toward you. his handwriting was neat except there were only about four lines of actual notes. you looked at him and he looked away first. “… i write kind of slow,” he admitted. you smiled a little before turning your notebook toward him instead. “you can copy mine.” he blinked, “… really?” you nodded.

the next few weeks settled into an unspoken routine. you always sat in the same seat and he always ended up beside you. sometimes he got there first and put his bag on your seat for yoy. sometimes you did. neither of you ever mentioned it. you noticed he wrote down almost everything the professor said but somehow still looked confused every lecture. he noticed you answered questions without ever raising your hand first. whenever the professor asked something and the room stayed quiet, you would sigh softly before answering anyway and he always looked relieved when you did.

it wasn’t until the first exam grades were handed back that everything finally made sense. you glanced sideways when seunghan let out the quietest, most defeated, “… oh,” before immediately flipping the paper over as though hiding the grade would somehow erase it. you had already seen the bright red forty eight percent. he noticed your expression change and looked like he wanted the floor to open beneath him. “please don’t,” he muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he gripped the edge of the paper a little tighter. “don’t what?” you asked, keeping your voice gentle instead of teasing. he let out a quiet sigh. “look at me.” his embarrassment was written all over his face. you bit back a smile. “i wasn’t judging you,” you said honestly hoping he’d believe you.

“you should,” he mumbled still staring at his desk instead of you. class ended a few minutes later. you packed your bag while he remained sitting there, staring at the exam as though the grade might change if he waited long enough. you were halfway out of your seat when he finally spoke. “… can i ask you something?” he asked. his voice was so hesitant that you stopped immediately and turned back toward him. “yeah?” you answered, waiting patiently. he rubbed the back of his neck, looking painfully uncomfortable. “… this is embarrassing,” he admitted, letting out an awkward laugh that held absolutely no confidence. “okay,” you said patiently, folding your arms as you waited for him to continue instead of rushing him. he glanced down at the exam in front of him. “… i’m kind of failing now,” he admitted. “kind of?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “… very.” his correction came with a defeated sigh that made it impossible not to smile. he noticed immediately. “i knew you were gonna laugh,” he complained though there wasn’t any real annoyance behind it. “i’m not laughing at you,” you replied trying to sound more convincing than you felt. “close enough,” he muttered.

another awkward silence settled between you before he took a deep breath. “would you …” he started, only to stop and shake his head. “… could you tutor me?” his eyes stayed fixed firmly on the floor. before you could answer he rushed to add, “you don’t have to. actually forget i asked. that’s probably weird.” the words tumbled out so quickly it was obvious he was already regretting asking. “seunghan,” you said making him finally look up. “i’ll tutor you.” the answer came so easily that he blinked in surprise “…really?” he asked, searching your face as if he expected you to change your mind. “really,” you confirmed with a small nod. he studied you for another second before asking, “you don’t think i’m hopeless?”

“i think you need help,” you admitted honestly. for the first time since you’d met him, he laughed under his breath instead of apologizing. “that’s probably true,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck once more. “library tomorrow?” you asked as you adjusted your backpack onto your shoulder, already knowing what his answer would be. he nodded almost immediatly. “good." you smiled at him, turning around to leave.

the first tutoring session lasted almost three hours. it was not because seunghan wasn’t trying. if anything he was trying too hard. he frowned at every page of the textbook like it had personally offended him and reread the same paragraph four different times. “wait,” he said quietly, tapping the page with his pencil. “if this happened before this … then why are they talking about it here?” his eyebrows pinched together as he looked from the textbook to your notes completely puzzled by what he was reading. you leaned over to see what he was pointing at. “because they’re comparing the two events,” you explained as you drew a quick timeline in the margin of his notebook. “look. if you put them in order first it makes a lot more sense.” you turned the notebook toward him so he could follow the arrows you had just drawn.

he watched you write before looking back at the chapter. “oh,” he murmured as the realization finally beginning to settle in. “does that make sense now?” you asked. you glanced over at him to make sure you hadn’t lost him again. he nodded once. “yeah. i think i was making it more complicated than it actually is.” his shoulders relaxed a little as he looked back down at the page. “you’ve done that with almost every chapter,” you teased. he looked mildly embarrassed. “i have?” he asked. “a little. but im joking,” you admitted with a grin. the answer earned a quiet laugh from him as he rubbed the back of his neck.

by the time the library announced it would be closing soon his notebook looked completely different. it was filled with timelines, arrows, little explanations you’d squeezed into the margins, and enough sticky notes to double its thickness. he closed it carefully before looking over at you. “i actually understood that,” he admitted sounding more surprised than proud of himself. “see?” you smiled. “you’re not bad at history.” you leaned back in your chair happy to finally see some confidence on his face. “i got a forty,” he reminded you. “because you panic,” you answered. “also true,” he admitted with a small sigh.

you packed your things while he slowly organized his backpack. just as you slung your bag over your shoulder he spoke again. “can i ask you something?” his voice was hesitant enough that you stopped before taking another step. you turned back toward him. “sure." his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of his backpack. “how much do i owe you?”

you blinked in confusion. “for today,” he clarified. “or all of it i guess. however you charge.” the explanation came out in one nervous rush like he was trying to get it over with before he lost his courage. you couldn’t help smiling. “charge?” you repeated. he nodded immediately. “you spent three hours helping me.”

“i know,” you replied.

“so" he looked down at the table for a second before continuing. “it doesn’t feel right if i don’t pay you.” you pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your finger against your chin. “okay,” you said eventually, watching him immediately reach for his wallet.

“one date.”

his hand stopped halfway to his pocket. “what?" “one date,” you repeated. “that’s how you can pay me.” he stared at you. “… a date?” the question sounded more like he was asking for confirmation that he’d heard you correctly. “yeah,” you answered trying not to laugh at the expression on his face. he looked around the library like someone else might explain what was happening. “with …” he slowly pointed at himself. “… me?” the disbelief in his voice made your smile even wider. you laughed softly. “yes, seunghan. with you.” his mouth opened and then closed. “are you serious?” he asked. "why wouldn't i be?" you tilted your head. "i thought you were just being nice to me.” he looked down at the table again. “i was,” you answered honestly. “no,” he corrected quietly. “i mean … i didn’t think his His sentence faded away before he could finish it. you decided to help him out, “liked you?” “yeah,” he admitted after a long pause.

you smiled at him. “i do.” he looked down at the table for a few seconds, smiling to himself before finally looking back up again. “i think that’s cheaper than tutoring,” he joked quietly. “depends where you take me,” you answered with a grin. “i can probably afford coffee,” he offered. “coffee sounds perfect,” you watched him nod almost immediately. “okay,” his tone was a little more confident. “it’s a date.”

wonbin

wonbin’s first memory of you was you shoving him hard enough that he landed on the wood chips underneath the playground slide back in kindergarten. he hadn’t even done anything. he’d just been waiting his turn. you looked down at him for a second before climbing up the slide like nothing had happened. when the teacher asked what happened, you shrugged innocently, “he fell.” wonbin looked at you in complete disbelief.

he knew you pushed him and you knew you pushed him.

somehow you still got away with it. that became a pattern throughout the school year. you weren't mean to anyone else. it was just to him. if he was quietly coloring, you’d lean over and scribble on the edge of his paper before running away laughing. if he built something during free play, you’d “accidentally” knock it over. if he lined up first after recess you’d squeeze in front of him.

every time your teacher caught you she’d let out the same tired sigh before looking between the two of you. “again?” she would ask. “it was an accident,” you’d insist every single time. your teacher would cross her arms, “you’ve had a lot of accidents around wonbin,” she’d point out patiently. you’d glance over at him for a second before looking back at your teacher with an awkward little shrug. “… yeah.”

after a while wonbin stopped trying to defend himself. instead he’d quietly pick his crayons back up off the floor, rebuild whatever you’d knocked over, or step back into line after you’d squeezed in front of him. “why are you like this?” he’d mumble, sounding confused rather than angry. you never had an answer for him because you genuinely didn’t know. all you knew was that if wonbin was somewhere, you somehow ended up there too.

it got bad enough that one afternoon wonbin’s mom finally walked into the classroom after school to talk to the teacher. she’d watched her son come home one too many times complaining about the same little girl and she couldn’t understand why you seemed to have made him your personal target. your mom happened to be picking you up at the same time and before long both of them were standing outside the classroom while the teacher explained, with the exhausted expression of someone who’d repeated herself a hundred times already, that you only ever seemed to bother one child. “she’s actually very sweet with everyone else,” the teacher admitted. “it’s just … wonbin.”

wonbin’s mom looked over at you where you were hiding halfway behind your own mother’s leg before looking back at your mom with an apologetic smile. “i promise i’m not upset,” she said gently. “i’m just trying to figure out what my son did.” your mom sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “trust me,” your mom replied, “i’ve been asking her the same question for months.” she crouched down in front of you and asked, “why are you being so mean?” you stared at your shoes for so long that all four adults thought you weren’t going to answer. finally you shrugged. “i don’t know.” and somehow that was the truth. you weren’t trying to be mean. you just couldn’t seem to leave him alone.

the conversation didn’t magically fix everything. you still bothered him all through the rest of kindergarten, although the shoving slowly turned into smaller things. you’d hide his eraser in your desk and then dramatically “find” it when he couldn’t. sometimes you’d sit in his chair before he got back from sharpening his pencil just because you thought the annoyed little sigh he’d let out was funny. every single time he’d look at you with the exact same expression and ask, “seriously?” and every single time you’d grin back like you hadn’t done anything wrong.

by first grade, though, the teasing had started to lose its edge. you still bothered him but now you also talked to him. if you stole his pencil, you’d hand it back after making him chase you around the classroom once. if you cut in front of him in line, you’d save him the spot next to you. somewhere along the way the teachers stopped separating the two of you because somehow you always found your way back to each other anyway.

that spring your class read a picture book about something you forgot about and your teacher decided the best way to celebrate finishing it was with a pretend wedding. construction paper flowers covered the classroom, paper rings were passed around, and everyone’s names were pulled out of a bucket to decide the pairs. when your teacher unfolded the slip of paper with both your names on it wonbin buried his face in his hands while you looked around in complete horror. “not him,” you complained immediately. “not her,” wonbin answered just as quickly.

the ceremony lasted less than five minutes. your teacher handed both of you little paper rings, “do you promise to be nice to each other?” wonbin answered first with a quiet, “i’ll try.” you crossed your arms stubbornly before mumbling, “… fine.” you looked over at wonbin expecting him to look as embarrassed as you felt only to find him trying very hard not to laugh. against your own will you laughed too.

after that day things slowly became different. by middle school you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d shoved him. instead you found yourselves sitting together during lunch because it was easier than finding new seats. you’d walk home in the same direction after school, complaining about homework or teachers or whatever game everyone was obsessed with that month. one afternoon wonbin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at you suspiciously. “you haven’t stolen anything from me in like … two years.” you blinked at him. “do you want me to?” he laughed immediately. “no.”

freshman year of high school arrived before either of you really noticed. one afternoon after classes ended the two of you ended up sitting on the football field while everyone else headed home. you were talking about elementary school when wonbin suddenly shook his head with a quiet laugh. “you know,” he admitted, “i really thought you hated me back then.” you looked over at him in complete disbelief. “what?” he smiled. “you bullied me for, like, two years.” you covered your face with your hands. “i know.” for a long moment neither of you said anything. then you looked over at him again. “can i ask you something?”

wonbin turned toward you without a second thought. “sure,” he answered, completely unaware of where the conversation was about to go. you took a small breath before finally saying it. “will you go out with me?” for a second wonbin thought he’d heard you wrong. “are you serious?” he asked quietly. he searched your face to see if you were joking. you nodded once but all of the confidence you’d had thirty seconds earlier had completely disappeared. “yeah,” you admitted, suddenly finding the football field much more interesting than looking at him.

wonbin didn’t answer right away. slowly the corners of his mouth lifted into the softest smile “i’ve been waiting for you to ask,” he confessed. you immediately looked back at him with a frown. “you couldn’t have asked me?” you complained. wonbin laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back on his hands. “i figured i’d already survived kindergarten,” he teased, looking over at you with a grin. “i didn’t want to push my luck.”

sohee

sohee met you before either of you could properly spell your own names. your moms had been friends so it was almost impossible to find you without sohee. if someone asked where you were, the answer was usually, “with sohee.” if someone asked where sohee was, the answer was usually, “with yn.”

the only problem was that somewhere around middle school sohee stopped looking at you like just his best friend. by freshman year of high school, he was hopelessly enamored with you. everyone else figured it out long before you did “just ask her out,” sungchan would tell him.

“she doesn’t like me like that," sohee played with his grey mystery food from the cafeteria. “how do you know?” seunghan pressed. sohee would just shrug. you treated him exactly the same as you always had. you held onto his arm when you were cold and asked for his hoodie. you called him whenever something good happened. you made him carry your backpack when your shoulders hurt. you told him every crush you had, every almost relationship, and every guy who’d asked for your number. every single time sohee smiled, nodded, gave whatever advice you asked for. then he went home wondering why he kept doing this to himself. “you’re literally in love with her,” anton sighed in your junior year. “i know," sohee buried his head in his hands. he raised his eyebrows, “and you’re still listening to her talk about other guys?” sohee looked down before quietly answering, “she’s my best friend first.”

if being her best friend was all he’d ever get to be he’d take it. he’d rather have that than lose you entirely.

senior year started but something about that year felt different almost immediately. you started choosing the seat next to him instead of across the room. you lingered after basketball practice to wait while he finished helping clean up. you texted him about nothing more often. he noticed every little change and refused to let himself hope. it wasn’t until october that everything shifted.

you’d gone to a school football game together, squeezed onto the cold aluminum bleachers with the rest of your friends. everyone else eventually wandered off for snacks, leaving the two of you alone. it was colder than expected. without thinking you reached over and slipped your hand into the pocket of his hoodie to warm it. you’d done things like that before yet sohee couldn't help but stare. after a minute you looked over, “why are you looking at me like that?”

he blinked, “…like what?”

“like your brain stopped working." you laughed quietly while sohee stared at you still, shaking your head before looking back toward the field “you’re cute.” his heart stopped. from that night on you started noticing things you’d somehow ignored for years. you noticed the way he always walked on the outside of the sidewalk and the way he remembered every tiny thing you mentioned, even months later. one afternoon, a few weeks later, you were sitting on the hood of his car after school. you looked over at him, “can i ask you something?" you hesitated for a moment before looking over at him. “how long have you liked me?” sohee went completely still. "who told you?” “nobody.” you shrugged, picking at the skin by your nails. “i just finally noticed.” he looked down at his hands, embarrassed enough that the tips of his ears turned pink. “a while.”

“how long is ‘a while’?” you asked. he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “do you really want to know?” when you nodded he took a slow breath before quietly admitting, “since i was thirteen." your eyes widened. “thirteen?” he nodded, "i just thought the crush would go away."

“and?”

he finally looked over at you with the same soft expression he’d been wearing for years. “it didn’t. the two of you sat in silence for a long moment. then you smiled. “you know” you nudged his shoulder gently with yours. “i think i’m finally catching up.” he frowned in confusion. “what?”you looked away. suddenly the parking lot much more interesting than his face. “i said i think i’m finally catching up.” he looked at you confused, “to what?” you groaned, already feeling your confidence slipping away. “sohee.” he frowned in confusion. “what?” you rolled your eyes, “to you and your feelings. ” it took a full five seconds for the words to register. finally his eyes went impossibly wide, "wait.” you laughed nervously. “yeah.” he blinked at you again still trying to process what he’d just heard. “wait.” you covered your face “you’re really making me regret saying this.” "no. no, don’t.” he was smiling so hard it made you smile too. “i just” he shook his head in complete disbelief before laughing quietly to himself. “i’ve wanted to hear that for years.” you reached over and intertwined your fingers with his. “good thing we still have senior year left.” sohee looked down at your hand resting in his before giving it the gentlest squeeze. he’d spent four years convincing himself that being your best friend was enough. he never imagined he’d get to be anything more yet here you were.

anton

anton hadn’t even wanted to go to the party. if it had been up to him he would’ve spent the night at his apartment watching a movie or catching up on assignments. but wonbin had shown up at his door with the sole purpose of dragging him out of the house. after nearly twenty minutes of complaining that college parties weren’t his thing anton eventually gave in mostly because he knew wonbin wasn’t going to leave until he did.

you, on the other hand, had been looking forward to the party all week. by the time anton and wonbin walked through the front door you’d already been there for hours. the music was deafening, the house was packed shoulder to shoulder with people, and somewhere between your first drink and whatever you were up to now someone had convinced you that dancing on top of the living room coffee table was a fantastic idea.

from where anton was standing he noticed you almost immediately. it was practically impossible not to. you were loud enough for half the house, laughing so hard you nearly doubled over as your friends cheered you on from below. he barely had enough time to wonder before you took one step backward and your foot slipped on the edge of the table. suddenly you were falling directly toward him.

he instinctively reached out to catch you but instead the two of you crashed into each other and ended up sprawled across the sticky hardwood floor. for a second neither of you moved. you looked up at the poor stranger you’d just fell on and blinked at him through your alcohol induced haze. you burst into laughter. anton’s face was bright red before he’d even managed to sit up. any normal person probably would’ve apologized, introduced themselves, and never spoken to each other again.

two months in isn’t long. not really. not in the grand scheme of things, not in the way people measure real, lasting relationships—but it feels long when it’s him. when it’s sohee, who took five whole months just to get here with you. five months of lingering glances across tables, of him second-guessing every text, of you standing your ground and refusing to move things forward unless he did it first.

you remember how that felt—watching him think, watching him hesitate, watching him try. it was frustrating, sometimes. painfully slow. but there was something about it that made you stay. something about him.

he was just sohee.

soft in a way that didn’t feel weak, just unfamiliar. careful with you, like you were something worth handling gently. it made you want to ruin him a little. push him. see how far he could go if someone just nudged him enough.

and now, two months into actually being his, you’ve learned exactly how easy it is to get a reaction out of him. how his ears turn red when you get too close. how his hands don’t quite know where to go when you touch him first. how he looks at you like you hung the moon and he’s still trying to figure out how you ended up in his orbit.

it’s addictive.

so yes—things have been good. more than good, actually. stupidly good. the kind of good where arguments don’t last longer than a few minutes because you just end up poking at his sides until he breaks into quiet laughter, or pressing a kiss to his cheek until he forgets what he was even upset about in the first place.

two whole weeks without a single fight.

which is why last night felt different.

you had gone out with your friends, nothing unusual. loud music, cheap drinks, bodies packed too close together in a way that made everything feel a little warmer, a little looser. you didn’t think much of it. you never really do.

you definitely didn’t think about sohee—at least, not in the way you probably should have.

not when one of your guy friends threw his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side while he laughed at something you barely remember. not when you stayed there for just a second too long, your head tilted toward him, your body swaying slightly from the alcohol in your system.

you didn’t think about how it might look.

not until you saw sohee.

he had just gotten there to pick you up, standing a few feet away, frozen in place like he didn’t quite know what he was looking at. like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel anything about it.

and for a second—just a second—you hesitated.

before you slipped out from under your friend’s arm.

before you went to him.

before you fixed it.

it was quick, though. quick enough that you could pretend it didn’t matter. quick enough that you could brush it off.

you had stumbled into him with a soft laugh, arms wrapping around his waist, pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek like nothing was wrong at all. like he hadn’t just watched another guy touch you in a way that maybe felt too familiar.

he didn’t say anything.

he never really does.

and this morning, you didn’t respond to his last text either.

not on purpose. not really. you got busy and forgot.

but now, standing in your apartment kitchen, you can feel it sitting between the two of you.

thick. quiet. wrong.

sohee has been off since he got here. not cold, not distant in an obvious way—just… sulky. quieter than usual. moving around your space like he’s thinking too much, like every little thing is taking more effort than it should.

you noticed it the second he walked in.

and you ignored it.

on purpose.

because part of you—an annoying, stubborn part of you—keeps thinking that if he was more confident, this wouldn’t even be a problem. if he trusted you more, if he trusted himself more, he wouldn’t be walking around like this over something so small.

if sohee were more confident, he wouldn’t be so bothered that someone had their arm around you.

if sohee were more confident in your relationship, he would have said something already.

so you let it drag on through dinner. through the quiet clinking of utensils, the soft hum of nothing conversation, the way he avoided looking at you for just a little too long.

and now you’re both in the kitchen, the air heavy with everything he’s not saying.

he’s at the sink, finishing up the dishes, sleeves pushed up just enough to expose his wrists. the sound of running water fills the space, steady and grounding in a way that almost makes this feel normal, almost.

you step up behind him without thinking too much about it, slipping your arms around his waist, pressing yourself against his back like you always do. your chin finds its place on his shoulder easily, like it belongs there.

“what’s wrong, sohee?” you say, voice soft—sweet, even. the cutest version of yourself, carefully crafted because you know exactly what it does to him. your bottom lip juts out just a little for extra effect, even though he can’t fully see it from this angle.

you know he can’t resist you like this.

not for long.

he finishes rinsing the last dish, setting it aside before shaking the water off his hands instead of reaching for the towel like he normally would. the droplets scatter slightly, careless in a way that feels unlike him.

then he turns his head just enough to look at you.

and it’s not the look you’re expecting.

it’s not soft. not immediately.

it’s a little… dirty. a little annoyed. something sharper than you’ve ever seen from him before.

your breath hitches without permission.

you’ve never seen him like this, not at you.

“sohee…” you whine, quieter now, the sound slipping out of you before you can stop it. instinctively, you loosen your hold on him, backing off just a little like you’ve suddenly stepped too far.

you know it’s your fault. you just wish he wasn’t like this about it.

because in your head, it’s simple. it should be simple. if he were more sure of himself, more sure of you, then none of this would feel so heavy. he wouldn’t be standing here like this, holding onto something you already decided wasn’t a big deal.

he turns around fully then, facing you.

“i just don’t understand…” he mumbles.

and for a second—just one—you see it. the way his eyes flicker over your face, catching on your expression, your lips, the way you’re looking at him. they soften, just barely, like he’s about to fold the way he always does.

but then it’s gone.

just like that.

he looks away, breaking the moment before it can settle, before it can turn into something easier.

he walks past you to the fridge, opening it without another word. the cool light spills out, casting a faint glow against his face as he reaches in and grabs a water bottle.

you watch him the whole time.

the way he twists the cap open. the way he tips his head back, taking a long swig like he needs it—like he needs something to fill the space he’s refusing to.

he still won’t look at you.

“don’t understand what, hee?” your voice comes out softer this time, barely above a whisper.

not because you feel bad, but because you want him to say it.

you want him to finally tell you what’s been sitting in his chest all day, what’s been pulling his shoulders tight, what’s been making him act like this instead of just giving in to you like he always does.

and maybe—just a little—you want him to feel bad too.

for making you sound like this.

“i’m going to sound stupid,” he says with a sigh. he rubs his hands down his face in distress, fingers pressing harder than they need to like he’s trying to push the feeling out of himself.

you bite back a sigh of your own.

it’s frustrating, in a way you don’t want to admit out loud. you wish he could just say it without all of this buildup, without making it feel heavier than it needs to be.

“you won’t. just tell me,” you say, softer now, coaxing. you tilt your head just slightly, trying to catch his eyes again, trying to pull him back into something familiar.

he does look at you, but it’s wrong.

"i want to know," you press a little harder.

his gaze feels… empty. not soft, not warm, not melting into you the way it usually does. it lands on you, but it doesn’t hold you.

“why didn’t you respond to me at all today? my texts.”

your lips part slightly, and for a second, you almost laugh. is this really about that?

“i just forgot, baby,” you whine, dragging the word out like it should smooth everything over, like it always does. you shift your weight, watching him move to stand across from you, leaning against the counter like he needs the support.

“that’s not true, yn,” he says, voice quiet—too quiet. “don’t lie to me. please?” his eyes look sad.

you exhale out of slight frustration at the sight.

“then why didn’t you text me again, sohee?” you shoot back, your tone still sweet, still careful, but there’s something sharper tucked underneath it now. “why didn’t you call me if it bothered you that much?”

you widen your eyes just slightly, like you’re confused. like you’re trying to understand him.

like you’re the one being reasonable.

“why is it my fault?” sohee says, his voice tired in a way you’ve never heard before.

you frown immediately, the expression coming easily.

his words land heavier than you expect. they sting—just enough to make you want to push back.

“and who was that guy?” he adds, his voice stronger now. not loud, not yet—but firmer. steadier. like he’s finally holding onto something.

“don’t you trust me, sohee?” you plead, your voice softening again instantly, like a reflex. you step a little closer, your brows pulling together, your lips pressing into that pout you know he hates resisting.

you’ve never seen him this upset before.

it makes something in your chest twist.

he scoffs, and it makes your stomach drop.

“who was he, yn?” he presses, his voice cutting through yours. “you aren’t answering my question.”

“he’s just a friend! a friend from high school,” you explain quickly, like that should be enough. like that should end it.

“does that make it better?” he shoots back immediately. “do you think that makes me feel better?”

you blink at him.

he doesn’t usually talk like this.

“sohee, i like you,” you insist, the words coming out a little more desperate than you intend. you don’t know what to do with him like this—standing there, not folding, not softening, not reaching for you.

just pushing.

“you go out and have fun with your friends, okay, you should,” he says, his voice uneven now, like it’s starting to crack under the weight of everything he’s been holding in. “i don’t have a problem with that. at least let me know when there’s going to be guys present, is that okay for me to ask?”

you nod quickly, your pout deepening, your expression softening like you’re trying to meet him halfway. like you’re trying.

“and then you didn’t text me back today,” he continues, his voice rising just a little, frustration slipping through now. “how… how am i supposed to be okay, yn? i… i felt so stupid when i went to pick you up last night. i felt so small watching another guy with his arm around you!”

the words hang in the air.

and for a second—just a second—you see it.

how much it actually got to him.

how much it hurt.

your chest tightens.

but instead of sitting in it, instead of letting it settle, you push back.

“you’re overreacting,” you say, the words slipping out more bluntly than before. “it wasn’t even like that, sohee.”

his expression changes immediately.

something in his face drops.

“overreacting?” he repeats, almost incredulous.

“yes,” you press, stepping forward now, like closing the distance will give you control again. “he had his arm around me, so what? i went to you right after, as soon as i saw you.”

you gesture vaguely, like it’s obvious. like he should’ve understood that without needing it spelled out.

“after,” he echoes, and there’s a sharpness in his voice now that makes your stomach twist again. “after you stayed there.”

you hesitate, just for a second, but it’s enough.

“you did,” he says, nodding to himself like he’s confirming it. “you stayed there. you didn’t even—” he cuts himself off, exhaling sharply, running a hand through his hair.

he looks frustrated. overwhelmed.

“i didn’t think it was a big deal,” you say quickly, your tone softening again, trying to reel it back in. “i didn’t think you’d get this upset over something so small.”

“small?” he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “you think that was small?”

you feel something defensive rise up in your chest.

“i think if you were more confident, it wouldn’t matter this much,” you say before you can stop yourself.

the second the words leave your mouth, you see it.

the way they land.

it’s subtle, but it’s there, like something inside him cracks.

“wow,” he breathes out, shaking his head slightly. “so now it’s because i’m not confident enough?”

you open your mouth, scrambling.

“that’s not what i meant—”

“then what did you mean, yn?” he cuts you off, his voice louder now, finally breaking past that careful restraint he always keeps. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like.”

you take a step back without realizing it.

he’s never raised his voice at you before.

“i just—i don’t understand why you’re making this such a big deal,” you say, your voice quieter now, but still pushing. “you’re acting like i did something wrong.”

his laugh this time is sharper.

“you did!” he says. and that makes your chest tighten.

“i didn’t cheat on you,” you snap, your tone defensive now, your arms crossing over your chest. “you’re acting like i did something terrible.”

“i didn’t say you cheated,” he fires back immediately. “but you don’t get to decide what hurts me and what doesn’t.”

the words hit harder than you expect.

and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

he exhales again, shaking his head like he’s done. like he’s tired.

“i just… i don’t like how you handled it,” he mutters. “and then you ignored me all day like it didn’t even matter.”

“i didn’t ignore you on purpose,” you argue. you know it won't sound true now.

he doesn’t respond. he just looks at you, and it’s worse than him yelling.

it’s quiet and final.

he pushes himself off the counter suddenly, the movement abrupt enough to make you flinch. without another word, he turns, walking out of the kitchen.

your stomach drops.

“sohee?” you call after him, your voice following as you trail behind him into the living room.

he doesn’t stop.

he walks past the couch, past the coffee table, straight toward the front door.

your chest tightens, panic starting to creep in now, sharp and unfamiliar.

this isn’t how this goes. he’s supposed to soften by now. he’s supposed to let you pull him back, let you wrap around him, let you fix it the way you always do.

he’s not supposed to leave.

“sohee, wait—” you say, your voice higher now, more urgent as you stop in the middle of the living room, watching his back.

he reaches the door. his hand wraps around the doorknob, and that’s when it really hits you.

you might not be able to stop him this time. sohee hears your footsteps retreat to the couch.

his grip tightens on the handle.

once you sit on the couch, your eyes are glued on his back. for a second, you think he’s going to open it. the panic in your chest spikes. you slip the collar of your off shoulder sweater as far as it'll go in an attempt to appeal to him physically.

“sohee…” you say again, softer this time, not as calculated, not as sure.

just enough to try and pull him back—before he decides to let go of you instead.

"you're not really going to leave me, are you?"

the fragility in your voice does it.

he turns and for a second, sohee thinks he forgets how to breathe.

you're curled into yourself just enough, sweater slipping off your shoulder, eyes glassy—tears clinging to your lashes like they might fall at any second. your lips are parted, trembling just slightly, like you’re trying to hold yourself together.

it doesn’t even cross his mind that you never look like this.

that you’re letting him see something you don’t show anyone.

he’s already moving.

crossing the room before he can think twice about it, before he can hold onto the frustration sitting in his chest. it melts too quickly, too easily, the second he’s in front of you again.

his hands come up to your face without hesitation, cupping your cheeks so gently it almost hurts.

“no, baby,” he breathes, voice breaking as he leans down closer to you. “i’m sorry. i was wrong, i’m so sorry, my pretty.”

the words tumble out of him, messy, rushed, like he’s scared you’ll pull away if he doesn’t say them fast enough.

“i'm really sorry, yn,” he repeats, softer now, his thumbs brushing just under your eyes, careful of the tears that did fall. “thank you for giving me a chance.”

his lips press together into a small pout, mirroring yours without him even realizing it, his eyes searching your face like he’s waiting for permission to breathe again.

you let the silence stretch just long enough, just long enough for him to feel it.

“i forgive you,” you mumble, voice quiet, fragile. your hand lifts slowly, resting over one of his where it holds your face. your fingers curl slightly, holding him there.

you tilt your head just a little, your gaze flickering down to his lips before coming back up.

“kiss?” you whisper. “i’ve missed you so much.”

he nods immediately—too fast, almost frantic, sitting down beside you.

and then he’s leaning in.

your lips meet softly at first, barely there, like he’s testing it. like he’s still unsure if he’s allowed.

you don’t give him time to overthink.

your fingers tighten around his wrist, pulling him closer, deepening it just enough to make him falter for a second against you. his breath catches, lips parting instinctively as he follows your lead.

he kisses you like he always does—careful, a little unsure—but there’s something else underneath it now. something more desperate. like he’s trying to make up for something he thinks he almost lost.

his hands slide from your face, hesitating only for a second before settling at your waist, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of your sweater like he needs to make sure you’re still there.

you can feel the way he’s holding back, the way he always does.

so you push, just a little.

your hand slides up his arm, slow, deliberate, until it reaches his shoulder, pulling him closer into you. your lips move against his more confidently, guiding him, letting him follow the rhythm you set.

he makes a soft sound—barely there—but it’s enough.

his grip on you tightens just slightly, his body leaning into yours more fully now, like he’s giving in.

like he always does.

you can feel how careful he’s trying to be, how much he’s thinking even now, even like this.

it almost makes you feel bad but instead, you kiss him a little deeper to see how far he’ll go.

your hand trails lightly along the inner seam of his sweatpants, dragging higher as you kiss him harder. when he sighs softly under your touch, you slip your tongue into his mouth. you press a little firmer against his growing bulge and he groans into the kiss, your tongues twisting together messily.

“is this ok?” he asks, which you find silly considering you’re the one touching him.

you nod against his face, continuing your ministrations.

sohee finally slips his hands beneath your sweater, timidly settling them on your waist. his thumbs rub against the skin of your ribs just beneath your chest, hesitant at first, like he’s still asking for permission without saying it out loud.

you take the hand that isn’t palming him and guide it higher until it cups your bare chest.

you groan softly when his thumb flicks over your nipple, and the sound seems to go straight through him. his hips press instinctively into your hand, slow and needy.

“you’re so soft,” sohee whimpers against your mouth.

you let out a breathy little laugh at that.

“you’re so hard.”

when you pull away, sohee follows immediately, chasing your lips before he can stop himself. his eyes are blown out now, dark and glassy, his cheeks already flushed pink. his lips are wet from your shared spit, swollen from kissing you, and the look in his eyes makes something warm curl low in your stomach.

you want to ruin him a little more.

it’s cute, honestly, how easy it is to get him like this.

“how far do you want to go today, hee?”

sohee blinks at you, like the question dragged him back into his body.

“i’ll take however much you give me,” he says finally.

the answer catches you off guard.

you don’t want to admit it, but after earlier, you need him closer than ever. maybe sohee feels the same way. maybe that’s why his hands keep tightening on you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he loosens them.

the thought of him at the door still lingers unpleasantly in your chest.

you stand from the couch first, reaching for him.

the air between you has changed. quieter now. heavier. unspoken.

but you suddenly feel the need to be intentional with him.

sohee takes your hand carefully, almost delicately, and follows you toward your room without a word. his eyes linger on the soft sway of your hair as you walk in front of him, on the sliver of bare shoulder peeking out from your sweater.

he wants to kiss it.

he wants to bury his face in the crook of your neck where your perfume always settles.

the second you step into your room, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants and tug him closer. you give him one quick kiss before your hands wander beneath his shirt, palms gliding slowly over warm skin.

sohee just stands there, watching you carefully, waiting for direction.

he doesn’t want to mess this up.

you pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside carelessly before pressing your palm against his chest.

with a small push, you guide him down until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed.

you keep eye contact with him as you slip your shorts down your legs, followed by your panties.

sohee watches every movement like he’s scared to blink and miss something.

when you settle yourself over his lap, straddling him slowly, a shaky breath leaves his mouth the second he feels your bare heat against the bulge in his pants.

“kiss me,” you say quietly, your hands resting on his shoulders.

his skin feels warm beneath your palms. you want more of it against yours.

sohee obeys immediately, bringing his lips to yours almost too quickly. his kisses are messy now, rushed in a way they weren’t before, like he can’t think straight anymore. your hands roam over his shoulders and down his back while he kisses you harder than usual, trying to keep up with you.

“yn,” he whimpers suddenly, hips bucking up into you.

the movement pulls a soft sound from your own throat. you slide your fingers into his thick hair, scratching lightly against his scalp as he shudders beneath you.

sohee’s hands find your bare hips and stay there, gripping carefully but firmly enough to keep you pressed against him.

he lets you take control again.

he follows your lead in the kiss so obediently that when you suck softly on his tongue, he makes a broken little sound into your mouth like he might actually fall apart from it.

“i need you,” he pleads quietly once you finally pull back, his forehead falling against yours. his voice sounds wrecked already. “please?”

instead of answering him, you reach down between your bodies and pull his cock free from his sweatpants.

sohee whines immediately at the touch, his body twitching beneath you. he looks overwhelmed already, flushed and throbbing in your hand, his lips parted as he tries to steady his breathing.

he looks like he might cry.

and something about that makes your stomach twist pleasantly.

“are you sure, sohee?”

you lift yourself slightly onto your knees, giving him room to kick his sweatpants down and off completely. the fabric falls forgotten onto the floor while his chest rises and falls unevenly, still breathless from kissing you.

meanwhile, you look almost perfectly composed above him.

the contrast makes him dizzy.

you both understand the weight of continuing this. you both want it. but underneath everything else, somewhere buried beneath the lingering tension from earlier, a quieter feeling settles in your chest. some small part of you still feels guilty for the way this happened—for the way he apologized first, for the way you pulled him back to you so easily. you want him to be sure.

you want this to come from love, not panic.

sohee nods quickly, eyes glossy as he looks up at you.

“yes, please, yn,” he says softly. then, quieter: “can i make you feel good first?”

you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

he’s sweet for asking.

“i would love that, hee,” you coo softly, leaning down to place a quick kiss against the tip of his nose before pulling your sweater over your head.

the second the fabric leaves your body, sohee twitches beneath you again.

his eyes drag over you helplessly, like he doesn’t know where to look first. you can see the way his throat moves when he swallows, his hands flexing at your waist before he carefully guides you backward onto the bed until your head sinks into the pillows.

he follows immediately.

one of his hands comes up to cup your chest again, warm and careful against your skin. the touch pulls a quiet moan from your lips, your back arching slightly into his palm.

sohee looks almost dazed hearing the sound.

he leans down to kiss you again, slower this time. then your jaw. then just beneath your ear.

his lips trail lower and lower until he reaches your chest.

sohee likes taking his time with you. he’s made that very clear in the past.

he treats your body like something precious, something he wants to memorize properly. when he decides he’s given enough attention to one side of your chest, he makes sure to give the other the exact same amount.

it’s incredible how much self restraint he has for someone sitting between your thighs with such a painfully obvious erection.

“so soft,” sohee murmurs against your skin, echoing what he said earlier like he still can’t get over it.

you slide your hand over his where it rests on your breast, lacing your fingers with his loosely.

“all for you, baby,” you breathe out.

the words hit him instantly.

sohee moans softly against your chest, the sound muffled against your skin as he sucks especially hard at your nipple before soothing over it with his tongue. the reaction he gets from you only encourages him more.

his kisses continue downward afterward, slower now, lingering against the softness of your stomach and along your abdomen like he’s trying to worship every inch of you on the way down.

when sohee’s breath fans against your heat, it’s enough to make your head spin.

he presses a few wet kisses to your center first, slow and lingering, before pushing his tongue inside as far as he can. your hand immediately flies to his hair with a broken whine, fingers tightening instinctively in the soft strands.

sohee loves doing this for you.

he loves being able to pull reactions out of you like this, watching your body respond to something only he can give you. he loves the feeling of your hands in his hair, the sounds that fall out of your mouth without you meaning to make them. he loves watching your body slowly loosen beneath him, your chest rising harder and harder all because of him.

so he keeps going.

he laps at your core eagerly, still a little messy with it, still learning, but so determined to make you feel good that it almost drives you crazier than someone experienced ever could.

your chest jolts suddenly before your thighs tighten around his head.

sohee’s still somewhat new to this, and because of that, he always tries everything he can think of until you come apart for him.

his chin is already wet with you, but he couldn’t care less.

if anything, he likes it.

when your whimpers start turning into desperate little repetitions of his name, sohee brings one of his hands up between your thighs, rubbing careful circles over your clit while he keeps his mouth on you.

“sohee,” you gasp, tugging harder at his hair.

he glances up at you at the sound, eyes dark and blown wide already, and for a second he genuinely can’t believe how pretty you are like this.

completely undone for him.

“i know, baby,” he murmurs against you.

the vibration of his voice sends you over the edge.

your body tenses immediately before melting all at once, your back arching as a soft cry leaves your throat. sohee keeps going through it, taking everything you give him eagerly until you’re squirming and whining for him to come back up to you.

when he finally kisses you again, you can still taste yourself on his tongue, and it makes your head spin.

you feel sohee hot and hard against your stomach. he lets out a shaky whine when you wrap your hand around him, his head tipping back before he shakes it almost violently, like the feeling is already too much.

“i need you right now, yn,” sohee pleads. it almost sounds like he’s going to cry.

you feel the same desperate pull toward him. he’s panting against your face, breath warm and uneven while you try to gather your thoughts long enough to be reasonable. you’re still sorry for earlier, even if you hate admitting it to yourself, and you don’t want this to just be the two of you getting swept up in the moment.

“sohee.”

the seriousness in your voice makes him stop grinding helplessly against your leg.

his eyes lock onto yours immediately, and you can almost see the haze lift from them a little.

the look on his face makes something ache inside your chest.

“i’m really sorry about earlier,” you whisper. “and last night.”

you pause, your throat tightening as tears begin pooling in your eyes.

“i know i was wrong.”

“yn—”

you shake your head before he can stop you.

“i want you to be sure,” you continue softly. “that you really want this, and really want me. you deserve so much and you’re such a sweet boy and sometimes i think—”

“yn, i want you. i really do.”

his voice is immediate this time.

certain.

he brushes the hair away from your face carefully before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second.

he means it.

sohee isn’t stupid.

he knows how much you’ve slowed your usual pace down for him. he knows how lucky he is that you gave him a chance in the first place. he knows you could’ve gotten bored of him months ago and found someone easier, someone smoother, someone who already knew what they were doing.

but you stayed.

and he knows you well enough by now to understand something else too—that part of the reason he always gives in to you so easily is because of how happy it makes you. he likes seeing you get your way. he likes indulging you.

because to him, you’re precious.

adorable. sweet. beautiful.

and kind, even when you don’t think you are.

otherwise, you wouldn’t be crying right now over wanting to make sure he was really ready for this.

“you don’t need to apologize for anything, baby,” he murmurs softly. “i’m ready and i want this. i want you.”

the words finally force the tears from your eyes, and sohee smiles immediately when he sees them, kissing them away one by one before they can fall any further down your cheeks.

you let out a shaky breath and nod at him slowly.

“do you want me to be on top?” you ask quietly, looking him directly in the eye.

sohee shakes his head almost immediately. “no, you don’t have to.”

“ok,” you murmur back, bringing your thumb up to trace along his bottom lip.

his mouth parts slightly beneath the touch.

then sohee shifts between your legs, sitting back on his knees.

you stare at him for a second.

his cheeks are pink, hair messy from your hands, lips swollen from kissing you. he looks nervous and overwhelmed and impossibly pretty all at once.

“you’re so pretty,” you coo softly.

“i was gonna say the same thing,” he laughs shyly before clearing his throat, suddenly looking embarrassed again.

“do you have any, um…”

“condoms? no,” you finish for him.

sohee’s eyes widen immediately at your answer.

“i’m on the pill, hee. it’s okay,” you reassure him softly. “and besides… i want to feel you for our first time.”

his breathing deepens noticeably at your words.

you can practically see the thought go through his head.

our first time.

sohee nods slowly, trying to hold himself together.

you reach up and pull him down gently by his shoulders until he’s hovering over you again. with one hand, you wrap around him carefully and guide him between your thighs, tapping the tip of him against your folds.

sohee’s entire body tenses.

he fights the urge to hide his face in the crook of your neck out of pure embarrassment, but he wants to see you. he wants to watch your face when he enters you.

his breath catches just from the feeling of you against him. he’s not even sure he’ll survive long enough to make it all the way inside without losing his mind.

his chest presses against yours as you guide him toward your entrance. one of his hands braces carefully beside your shoulder while he slowly eases more of himself into you.

the pressure of him finally pushing inside makes your body clench around him immediately.

“sohee,” you cry softly, your back arching despite how close your bodies already are. the sound nearly destroys him.

sohee lets out a broken moan, head falling forward as he pants against your skin.

“you’re so soft inside too, baby,” he whispers shakily. “just let me stay here for a second.”

“ok, hee. take your time,” you whisper back, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders.

he tries to gather some kind of composure, but it feels almost impossible with his hips fully pressed against yours like this.

you whine softly when he finally pulls back just enough to push into you again.

“so warm and so tight,” he pants against your skin, eyes squeezing shut for a second from how good you feel.

you guide one of his hands up to your chest and another moan leaves him immediately.

“you feel so good,” you say weakly.

every time sohee draws his hips back, little sounds keep slipping out of your mouth that only push him closer and closer to the edge. the pace he settles into has sweat beginning to gather at his temples, but he refuses to slow down. he doesn’t want to stop.

sohee thinks he could stay like this forever. watching your eyes glaze over because of him does something dangerous to his ego, makes a new kind of confidence bloom in his chest that he didn’t know he had before. and being this close to you—connected to you like this—makes something warm ache inside him.

“i needed this,” you breathe against his ear.

sohee whimpers softly at your words.

“i needed to feel you. i needed you close to me,” you continue, your voice breaking apart between breaths. “you feel so deep, hee…”

the praise makes his head spin.

sohee pushes himself up slightly so he can look at you properly. you look beautiful beneath him right now, flushed and emotional and completely wrapped around him, and he hopes desperately he’s making you feel even half as good as you’re making him feel.

“i love you, yn,” sohee confesses suddenly.

the words slip out before he can stop them.

his thrusts turn sloppy immediately afterward, his body betraying how close he is, but he stills for a second once the confession leaves his mouth like he’s waiting for your reaction. you let out a shaky cry at his words, fresh tears gathering in your eyes almost instantly.

“i love you, sohee.”

his expression softens so much it nearly hurts to look at.

he leans down to kiss you again, and when his hips start moving once more, you can feel how little control he has left. he’s trying so hard to drag the moment out anyway, trying to stay close to you for as long as he can.

when he finally mumbles against your lips that he’s close, you wrap your legs tighter around his waist to keep him there.

with one last broken moan, sohee comes apart completely. you release at the same time, your walls clenching around him and milking him completely dry.

afterward, he stays above you for a few quiet seconds, both of you trying to catch your breath.

then he slowly pulls away and settles beside you against the pillows.

“i love you, yn,” he repeats softly, turning onto his side to look at you.

there’s nothing in his gaze except pure endearment.

it almost makes you want to hide beneath the covers.

“i love you too, sohee,” you smile back weakly. after a second, your expression softens further. “thank you for staying,” you whisper.

sohee’s face immediately twists into something guilty and tender all at once.

“thank you for everything,” he says quietly. then, after a pause: “i know i’m still learning, and that it’s annoying sometimes. i just want to do this right.”

his earnestness is one of your favorite things about him.

it makes loving him feel easy.

“i’d do anything for you, hee.”

sohee pulls you into his arms immediately, tucking you against his chest carefully.

after a moment, he presses a kiss into your hair.

“i’ll change your sheets later,” he whispers.

“clean freak,” you mumble sleepily against him, already feeling yourself start to drift.

he laughs softly under his breath.

— eunseok ୨ৎ

— sungchan ୨ৎ

— wonbin ୨ৎ

— seunghan ୨ৎ

— sohee ୨ৎ

— anton ୨ৎ