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beomiracles · 2 hours ago

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▬▬ 𝖢𝖱𝖨𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖠𝖫 𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖲𝖢𝖨𝖤𝖭𝖢𝖤 𝖴𝖭𝖲𝖮𝖫𝖵𝖤𝖣

𐔌 📂 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌 : Moving rapidly through your career as one of the leading female investigators, you never once encountered a case you couldn't crack. Though you never expected for your past mistakes to come back and haunt you in the form of an ex lover, accused of murder.

꒰ 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌 ꒱

𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 : investigator!reader (f) 𝗍𝖺𝗉𝖾𝖽 : criminal!beomgyu

✐ chat this took me forever, I'm so sorry... this tape, I low-key feel like it gives away a lot of information so do with that what you will.. anyway first full smut scene we up! this is 8k btw, don't have a word count anywhere else... happy reading !

╰ 📼𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌… implied ptsd, substance abuse, autopsy (desc of dead body), guns, violence, child abuse/neglect, questionable adults, implied grooming, fingering, unprotected sex, kissing.

🎙️ 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 : TAPE 09 "TRUTH HAS TEETH"

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 25th 2024

You and him are the only ones there. The bright and white light shines down on you like a spotlight, making the rest of the room fall into your shadows. There’s an unsettling silence lingering in the thick air — and it smells of death. You hated this room, it made you feel claustrophobic, trapped and forced to witness what you had tried so hard to suppress.

But there’s no escape, you had come to realize that long ago. So you swallow, finally shifting your gaze from the floor and over to the man before you. Park Baekhyun’s body had since long turned cold. His skin was a pale and a sickly grey resemblance of what it had once been. It was as though he had been turned into stone — forever trapped in time, unmoving and unaware.

He could no longer speak when spoken to, nor could he fight for himself. He was defenseless, a shell of the man he’d once been. And though you did not know him, his death hurt more than it should. You think it might have to do with Beomgyu. For you cannot stand to see the corpse before you without thinking of the man you had once thought you loved.

It’s a gut wrenching feeling, one that makes your insides twist uncomfortably. Still, you want to cling onto the hope that this was the work of a ruthless and cold hearted murderer — not Beomgyu. Was that so wrong?

With one shallow breath you pull on the latex gloves, cringing at the way they clung to your skin. You flex your fingers, eyes shifting to the dead body laid onto the stretcher in front of you. Park Baekhyun was completely bare, both his toes and fingers had turned an unpleasant shade of blue. But what caught your attention was the several cuts to both his chest and neck. They were deep, the flesh messily sliced in half. Some were long, others a mere inch or two.

Your fingers trace a particularly deep cut alongside his ribs and a frown tugs at your brows. The knife had been sharp but it had been a mere kitchen tool. Yet these marks looked absolutely heinous. Then… They also lacked precision. As though whoever did this was in a rush, possibly even nervous.

“He must’ve not had a single clue what he was doing…” You quietly murmur to yourself as you move over to the cuts adorning Baekhyun’s neck. These were even more hesitant, and messy too — like he’d been grasping at any part of the man he could access, desperate to bring him down.

Their jagged edges, their uneven paths and miscalculated hits… It was nothing like Beomgyu, nothing like the Beomgyu you knew. No, Beomgyu would’ve made quick and deep cuts, aiming for arteries — taking only what he needed. And he needed the man’s life. He would’ve cleaned up after himself, not left the apartment in such a mess and he would’ve most certainly not made a mess of the victim himself.

You didn’t know if this knowledge should comfort or terrify you.

But whoever had tried to kill Baekhyun, had failed. He’d abandoned the knife and instead forced the man into a tub full of water. You regard the cuts along his torso, counting up to eleven of them. His existing injuries had made it impossible for him to fight back — thus leading to his ultimate death.

It was a sad reality given to this man. But it had not been handed out by Beomgyu. You were almost certain of that. The relief seeping into your chest makes you feel ashamed, so you force your gaze to survey the victim’s face. And just like that — all hope vanished again.

Park Baekhyun’s expression is motionless, unreadable and still. Dead. His cheeks are sunken in, his eyes too — though they’re closed and you silently thanked the lord for that. His lips are pale, having lost all their color they now remain dry and chapped. His hair is the only part of him that still looks just as it had less than a week ago, with dark locks that curled around his ears and shielded his forehead from view. But then again, hair was never really alive in the first place.

Seeing his face hurt the most. It made everything real. He wasn’t just a body, or even another case. He was his own person, his own human being. At least he had been. Until… “Please”, the word is nothing but a quiet whisper that slips from your unguarded tongue. Your finger brushes against his cheek, feeling the ice cold skin through the latex of your glove. “Please tell me it wasn’t him.”

And though he could not answer you, it was as though the air in the room shifted. Your eyes flicker from his motionless face and down his arm. There, as if the answer had been in front of you all along — there was what you had been looking for.

A connection.

The purple bruises stare back at you angrily — the injection needles had left a clear message behind, one that would have continued to haunt Baekhyun for the rest of his life, and now it did even in death. Suddenly things started to make sense, the clarity made you feel almost just as high as Beomgyu did. It thrilled you, drove you.

But what if someone else made the same conclusion… What if…

You startle when the heavy door to the autopsy room is pushed open. It makes a squeaking noise, the old hinges long overdue for a replacement, the sound is deafening in the otherwise silent room. Quickly withdrawing your hand from Baekhyun’s cheek, you spin around on the spot — only to come face to face with your senior.

“You okay?” Yeonjun asks as he lets the door fall shut behind him. You give him a silent nod, trying to hear him over the rapid beating of your heart. When he approaches you find yourself stepping to the side, subtly trying to cover the evidence you’d discovered on the victim’s body. Thankfully, Yeonjun seems occupied with the papers in his hands, his gaze merely passing over the scene before him before returning to the paper.

“You were right”, he then says as he hands you the DNA report. Dumbfounded you take it from him, the latex against your sweaty palms feels suffocating as you do. Your eyes scan the words on the paper, the lines all seem to blur into one — your heart still racing in your chest, trying to claw its way out.

“It’s not his.”

Your heart stills and your gaze snaps up to meet Yeonjun’s. It was impossible to read his expression as he regarded you through the glasses sitting on his nose. But you knew all too well what your own face resembles right now — Relief. Even then, when the stone was being lifted from your stomach like it weighed nothing more than a feather, an equally heavy one sank. Guilt.

You swallow, your eyes dropping to the report in your hand once more as you read it through. The DNA analysis had come back clean of Beomgyu. No prints, no blood, no nothing. For all you knew he might’ve never even come in contact with the weapon at all. Instead the blood is paired with Baekhyun himself and a name you did not recognize.

“Do Hwan?”

With a slight frown you glance up at Yeonjun. Your senior nods, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. “It’s a match, but we won’t know for certain until we bring him in.” Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you give a slow and reluctant nod. This was everything you’d been searching for and more, so why did it feel so wrong? You were about to possibly prove Beomgyu’s innocence — even though you knew he was anything but.

“We’ve got an address already, I suggest we leave as soon as possible.” Yeonjun says as he motions to the report you’re holding, “This is more than enough to warrant an arrest.”

“I’ll get the car ready.”

The neighbourhood is awfully quiet. No signs of children playing out on the streets, no elderly couples sitting by their front porches sipping afternoon tea. In fact, the area lacked all signs of life. The houses themselves were rundown, heavily bullied by the seasons that had come and went. Roofs slanted in awkwardly, some windows were even broken and the paint was chipped from most wooden boards.

This was truthfully a perfect hideaway if you didn’t want someone to come knocking.

Your footsteps echo down the vacant street, joined by Yeonjun’s just beside you. You were walking fast, in a rush to find the answers you had so long been praying for. Every second not on the move felt wasted. Time was a luxury quickly slipping through your fingers like sand.

“Is this really the right place?” Kai suddenly asks somewhere behind you. He glances over his shoulder, as though he was expecting someone to be following you. Then he scrambles to catch up with your senior and yourself, an uncertain look on his otherwise youthful face.

You nod, “Positive.”

The house wasn’t in Do Hwan’s name, but his mother’s. Still, this remained the closest you could get. If he was hiding here, then it was a shameful move on his part. Though as your eyes survey the area once more, you reckon it might’ve been a while since anyone last inhabited these houses.

You’ve almost passed the property when Yeonjun’s fingers suddenly wrap around your wrist, halting your movements. “This one”, he nods toward a house on your left, its number matching the one on the address you’d received. It looked much like its neighbours, with a broken window that allowed the cold to seep its way inside. The walls looked to be caving under their own weight, the roof cracked in several places and bent awkwardly inward.

Without waiting for your senior to speak, you push the rusty gate open. It already sits loose on its hinges and it makes a squeaking noise when forced into motion. The pathway leading up to the front porch is partly overtaken by the unkempt grass. And as you slowly near the entrance, the wind hurls — whatever was left of the afternoon sun disappearing behind gloomy and dark clouds. But the chill of the frosty air is nothing compared to the one running through your bones at the thought of what you might find behind the door ahead.

Guilt lingers in the back of your head, an ever present trespasser. It’s rooted its way so deep into your mind that you worried nothing would be able to forge it from its place. Were you doing the right thing? Was this the man you had been searching for all along? Do Hwan was nothing more than a name on a piece of paper right now — everything you knew about him was a mere hunch. But DNA never lied. Those were his prints on the knife, his blood, not Beomgyu’s.

You tell yourself that this is not making excuses for the man you knew to be a monster. This was serving out justice for the fate brought upon an innocent man. And Do Hwan, behind that door or not, was no saint.

The steps up the porch groan in protest under your shared weight, announcing your arrival before you even get the chance to. You glance over your shoulder, meeting your senior’s gaze. Yeonjun was everything you weren’t. Composed, calm and alert. He knew what he was doing, he wasn’t beating himself up — clawing at the guilt consuming his soul.

He gives you a small nod, motioning toward the door handle. With trembling hands you try it, one twist is all it takes for you to understand that it was locked. Of course, he’d be a fool not to. You open your mouth to say something but Yeonjun’s finger to his lips is quick to silence you. He mouths the words ‘stay back’ and you do exactly that, allowing him more room as he steps toward the door.

Kai watches the whole ordeal with slight unease, his gaze flickering between the broken window and your small party. Yeonjun heaves a breath, and you barely have the chance to blink before the heel of his shoe comes into contact with the door, easily breaking it off its hinges. The old wood cries out under the pressure of your senior as it gives way — allowing you a look inside what had once been a home.

You take it upon yourself to enter first, stepping over the threshold and now broken door with confidence you didn’t recognize. It’s dark, the daylight barely reaching through to illuminate your path. Dust wafts the air, tickling your nose unpleasantly as you descend down the narrow hallway.

Each step forward is loud against the looming silence of what seemed to be an empty house. You pause, bringing out a flashlight from the heavy belt hanging across your hips. It flicks on effortlessly, casting the way ahead in a stark and bright light. Broken furniture lines the walls, paintings hanging sideways, coated in spiderwebs and grime. This house had remained untouched for a long time.

“Do Hwan”, your voice is steady, a lot more than you’d anticipated. “Police, we just want to talk.” Lies. You were here for more than a quick chat, you knew that, and so did he. But lying was something you had since long come to terms with. Sometimes it was even necessary.

There’s no answer, of course. Just as you’re about to turn around and discuss how to proceed with Yeonjun, a noise to your right draws all of your attention its way. The sound, a heavy thud, like something, or someone, dropping to the floor — comes from the living room. Wordlessly your senior points toward the archway leading into said room.

You swallow a gulp, fingers clenching around the gun attached to the belt around your waist — you pull it, aiming blindly as you enter the darkness ahead.

Nothing should faze you, for you have gone over this exact scenario for hours now. You had imagined his face over a thousand times, a dark and sinister man, someone capable of taking another human’s life. That was who Do Hwan was, nothing more and nothing less. But the sight you’re met with shatters the image you had so carefully conducted all morning.

Curled up into a ball just behind the armrest of an old and dusty couch, sits a young boy. He’s mere skin and bones, the clothes he wore fitting awkwardly around his stiff frame. His dark hair is wild and tangled, like he hadn’t bothered to maintain it for weeks. Trembling hands shield his face from view, but you can still make out the fear in his eyes as he peers at you through the cracks between his fingers.

Realizing that he wasn’t a threat, you slowly lower your gun, Yeonjun and Kai do the same behind you. For a split second you think you might have the wrong guy, but when his name falls from your senior’s lips once more, he flinches.

“P-Please..” His chest heaves with each ragged breath he takes, the sound piercing through the darkness. He squints against the harsh light of your flashlight, cowering against the soft cushion behind him like a frightened animal. This couldn’t possibly be your killer. It didn’t make sense.

You crouch down before him, finally seeing him at eye level. “It’s alright”, your voice masks the lies behind your words when you reach out, “We only want to talk.”

Do Hwan vehemently shakes his head, a loud sob ripping from his throat as tears cascade down his cheeks. “No…” he moans as he tries to wring himself out of his own skin, “No please, I can’t… He’s going to kill me, he–”

“Who?”

It’s almost impossible to make out what he’s saying over the rapid beating of your own heart. You feared his truth, the one that would pierce your skin like fangs, ripping you apart until there was nothing left. It would strip away all the lies you had wrapped yourself in, covering you like a warm and weighted blanket — he would force you to see things you didn’t want.

“It’s alright”, Yeonjun’s voice is deep, looming above you as he speaks, “Come with us, you’ll be safe and we can talk.” But Do Hwan only shakes his head, his sobs intensifying with each breath. “I won’t be! He’ll know… He’ll know and he will come for me and he will…”

You knew who he was talking about, of course you did. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, how much you strained against it, the lies you had built yourself upon were quickly caving under the weight of the truth.

Do Hwan surges forward, his trembling hands gripping around the bulletproof vest you wore as he yanked you close. His breath comes out in short puffs against your face, his crazed eyes seeking yours like they were his last drop of hope. “Please…” He wails, the cracking of his voice ringing in your ears.

“You have to kill me.”

“You have to kill me before he does.”

📼 — Sometime in the year of 2011

The air is cold, bitter. It pierces through the thin material of the shirt he wears, chilling his already cold skin even further. He keeps his gaze downcast, watching the messy cracks between the cobbled street with intent. For a moment he wondered what it would be like to be an ant, small enough to slip through the cracks and disappear into the darkness beneath. Why do they always choose to come back up? He wouldn’t.

A soft rustle somewhere to his right makes him tense. The familiar scent of rose and cherry invading his senses, her strong perfume prickles at his nose. It’s almost too much, almost unpleasant, but not quite. — He’s stayed longer than he should tonight. But he knows his father won’t question it, he’ll barely notice his son’s absence.

The boy shudders when something soft and heavy is draped over his shoulders. Her smell is closer now, everywhere — and as he peers down at the cracks in the pavement, he feels her coat might just pull him down into the abyss.

“Does your father not buy you new clothes?” She suddenly asks. It’s only the two of them left now, the others had taken their leave long ago — but she always stayed. He shakes his head. He wants to snap at her, tell her that her question was stupid and that she should just mind her own business.

The woman hums as she leans back against the park bench, one of her legs swung over the other. She wore clothes the boy only saw in magazines, the ones his father kept splayed across the coffee table in the living room. Knee high socks and sharp heels, a skirt short to the point he wasn’t even sure if it could be considered such. — She catches his wandering eyes, but merely shakes her head, a soft laughter bubbling in her chest.

But when the sound of her giggles ebb out into the quiet night air, her mood suddenly switches. He can feel her gaze on him, he can almost hear the slow blinking of her mascara coated lashes as she watches him silently.

“Why don’t you speak?”

The boy doesn’t answer, he never did and she doesn't expect him to. What was the point of asking then?

“Perhaps that’s better”, she says as she reaches for her purse, “Once you start using your words you’ll have ladies swooning at your feet.” The boy wants to ask what she means by that, but he doesn’t. He hated asking, hated feeling dumb.

He starts to think of a way to excuse himself, to make his way back to the shitplace he called home. Should he just stand up, leave? Instead he sits frozen, watching intently as her long and pointy nails work the small zipper open. Her fingers wrap around a familiar black tube, and no matter how hard he tries to avert his gaze when she picks the lid off, he can’t.

She reapplies her lipstick without the help of a mirror, some of it goes on her chin — but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches as she puckers her lips once before smacking them, the bold red color sticking to them like glue. — “What?” She says as she catches his lingering eyes on her, “Does it look bad?”

He shakes his head ‘no’ and the woman smiles. “You’re sweet”, she hums as she drapes an arm over his shoulders, her long curls falling against the side of his face. The air suddenly didn’t feel so cold anymore — the night’s bitter taste now replaced by one of cherries and roses.

“I’ll get you a jacket until next time”, she says whilst giving his arm a pat. The boy doesn’t reply but she hugs him tighter nonetheless.

📼 — PRESENT TIME ; February 24th 2024

The interrogation room feels heavier today. It’s no longer filled with sparks and tension, your body doesn’t feel like it could catch on fire at any moment. In fact you feel closer to drowning. Your clothes weigh you down, sticking to your skin as they pull you to the floor, away from here. You haven’t even mustered the courage to sit down, to face your truth head on.

You’re stalling.

Yeonjun’s watching, you wonder if he can tell. Probably. He would question you about it, push you for answers you didn’t want to give. So with one final breath your gaze returns to Do Hwan. — He’s been offered a black hoodie, it makes him look even smaller. Sitting quietly on the stiff and cold metal chair, he keeps his gaze downcast. You catch the quiet tremble to his fingers, the way he picks at the seams of his dirty jeans.

It had been a miracle to even get him here, from the tears shed in the car, to the way he nearly fainted when pulled into the interrogation room — and his words still echo in your mind. “You have to kill me. – You have to kill me before he does.” What could possibly have happened for him to see death as his one and only way out? He badly had he… You shake your head. Nothing was certain until he started talking. Your assumption about his correlation to Beomgyu was just that, an assumption. He had never verbally mentioned his name, or even hinted at anything that could tie them together. Only an immense fear for a man still unknown. But you would be a fool to not see it. The truth was written all over his face, clinging to the walls and the air inside the room.

“I hope the hoodie is alright.”

You start light, easing him into a conversation comfortable enough for him to at least give outright responses. Do Hwan nods, murmuring out a quiet, “Yes, thank you.” He seems to shrink even further under your gaze, the dark fabric swallowing him whole as he tries to hide. You have to remind yourself that you’re still looking at a killer, someone who committed a heinous crime. You imagine Park Baekhyun’s face, his lifeless eyes.

With slow and deliberate steps you make your way over to the chair opposite his. It makes a screeching noise as you pull it back. You’re used to this ritual by now, the thick silence before the questioning starts, you had done it before. Today is different, this conversation stretches beyond the four walls of this room. It’s not only about Do Hwan anymore.

Once sitting in front of him, you clasp your hands up on the table. You had learned that people usually felt calmer when they could see your hands.

“Are you hungry?”

Do Hwan shakes his head, but given the state of him, you could tell that it had been a while since he’s last had a proper meal. You don’t push him further, instead leaning back against the uncomfortable backrest of your chair, your eyes survey the small room. Patience was everything. But even that was hard when it felt like you were running out of time.

At last, you sigh, “Do you know why you’re here?”

Silence. It seems to be a recurring theme lately. Do Hwan shifts nervously in his seat, his fingers cleaning and unclenching on top of his thighs as he avoids your gaze. For a moment you think he might not give you an answer at all. That he might force you to retreat back to the mundane questions in another attempt to break down his guard. But then he slowly nods, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

You pause, letting his answer linger in the air just long enough for him to realize what he’d actually said.

“And why is that?”

He visibly tenses at those exact words, his shoulders going rigid under the oversized hoodie. You watch as he chews on the inside of his cheek nervously, a habit you, too, found yourself doing more than often. The beads of sweat that pearls on his forehead nearly sparkle under the harsh sterile light above. You watch as he battles with himself — unable to tell who the losing side was going to be.

“I did something bad…” He finally confesses, his fingers clenching around themselves as he heaves a breath he seems to have been holding in. Your own fingers twitch as they remain on the table between you. This was the closest to an actual confession you had received thus far, if you could just get him to say the words…

“What did you do?”

Do Hwan’s wide and terrified eyes snap to you, his face paling under the already bright lights. “I didn’t… I didn’t have a choice!” He swallows thickly, his gaze traveling to the window, almost as though he was expecting something or someone to reveal itself on the other side of the thick and tinted glass.

You chew on your bottom lip, glancing down toward the small suitcase you’d brought along. With steady and slow movements, you reach for it. The sound of its lock being undone catches Do Hwan’s attention, and you hear his breath hitching.

“This”, you begin as you pull out the plastic bag in which the knife rests, “Has your prints on it, your blood.” You push the bag forward, forcing him to see the truth laid bare before him — letting it sink its teeth into his skin. Do Hwan shifts uncomfortably on the chair, his hands retreating back into the arms of the hoodie as he avoids looking directly at the knife.

“You killed him. Didn’t you?”

It was there, right before you, so painstakingly true and obvious. But you need to hear him say it, you need to hear the words tumble from his wobbling lips. But just as badly as you refuse to see the truth, does he. With forceful movements, he shakes his head, eyes screwing shut like the sight before him was physically painful.

His next words are so quiet, you’re certain they don’t even pick up on the recording. With silent demand you lean forward, imposing on him in a way you knew would have him cower. “What was that?” You barely recognize the tone of your own voice, it felt like a stranger’s. But Do Hwan is tougher than he looks, and he slowly peels his eyes open to look at you — an unmistakable glint of defiance swirling within them.

“I said you don’t get it.” He grits the statement out, his anxiety slowly tipping over to frustration. You recognize that feeling — the one that felt like screaming into a void. With no one to listen and no one to react. You yell for it to go away but it only seems to draw you in closer. And you can’t resist, no matter how hard you try.

“I know you didn’t do this alone.” You straighten back up, regathering some semblance of professionalism as you move to the topic of conversation that was bound to hurt you both the most. “There’s nothing that ties you to Park Baekhyun”, you nod toward the knife between you, “Nothing but that.”

“Someone told you to do it, perhaps they even ordered you.”

Your eyes peer into Do Hwan as you try to force your way inside his mind, to retrieve the truth for yourself. He shakes his head again, seemingly his only form of response. He’d stopped fiddling with the hoodie, his hands slowly creeping out of their hiding from within the cotton. “No”, he then rasps, his voice laced with tension, “You’re wrong.”

“But I’m not.” There’s an underlying hint of accusation to the way you say it, you weren’t questioning him anymore, you were forcing the truth out — if you so would have to reach a hand down his throat to get it out, you would. “This is bigger than Park Baekhyun, you know that.”

Do Hwan squirms uncomfortably in his seat but remains silent. Perhaps he was afraid that his tongue would betray him if he spoke. But you would make sure he did. — “You can tell me”, your voice is soft as you try and coax the words out of him, “Who made you do it?”

The loud sob rips from his chest and breaks the tension in the air as Do Hwan leans forward, his hands coming up to cover his face half-heartedly. “I already told you! But you don’t understand..”

“I do. Tell me.”

“No!”

He’s gasping for air now, his eyes bleary as tears escape from them, racing down his cheeks and landing on the borrowed hoodie. “No one’s listening to me… No one–” He can barely get it out, each sentence deteriorating into an unblended mess in his mouth as he struggles to speak. — You open your mouth to object, but before you get the chance to, he cuts you off:

“He’s going to find out and he–”

“He’s going to be so angry, you don’t know… You’ve never seen…”

Do Hwan shakes his head for the nth time, the action bound to make him motion sick at this point as he moans in frustration. “T-That anger… I don’t ever want to– not again.”

Your heart drops all the way to your stomach, creating an uncomfortable lump as you listen to his seemingly incoherent ramble. Except to you, it made perfect sense. Nostalgia and an odd sense of familiarity crawls its way up your spine, forcing you to relive memories you thought you had since long buried…

📼 — June 11th 2022

The air is thick and clogs the narrow alleyway with smoke. Despite night settling over the sky hours ago, it’s still warm, too warm. Whether that was because of the hot summer month or the two men standing only a few feet away, indulging in what seemed to be a heated discussion, you weren’t so sure. — Hidden behind an old dumpster, you crouch awkwardly as you peer over its edge, giving yourself a perfect view of the scene taking place before you.

“You’re clearly not thinking straight here.”

It’s Duri’s familiar voice that breaks the silence. He stands in the middle of the alley, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his dark jeans as he regards Beomgyu with an expression that could best be described as tense. “Come on, think about it. Don’t you think it’s risky?” He then adds with slight urgency.

Beomgyu, who was leaning against the brick wall, mindlessly fiddles with the cigarette between his fingers. His face appears relaxed as he surveys the tobacco that slowly burns through the filter. “No”, he shrugs as he brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a long slow drag.

Duri’s frustrated scoff quickly follows as he rakes a hand through his short hair. Their conversation felt crypted, like it wasn’t meant for an outsider to take part of and understand. Still, you remain stubbornly close — desperate to pick apart what was being said. Duri had dragged Beomgyu out of here a mere fifteen minutes ago under the pretense that he had something ‘important’ to discuss.

You clearly remember the look on his face. The way Beomgyu’s jaw had clenched as his hand fell from your waist. “Stay here”, he’d murmured when he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, vanishing outside without another word. Two months ago you would have probably stayed rooted in your spot, obeyed his every command because that was the only way you knew to keep him close.

Tonight things are different, and your curiosity could no longer be sated by a short kiss or soft caress.

“This isn’t like you”, Duri scoffs as he folds his muscular arms across his chest. He regards Beomgyu with a frown, his lips pulled into a small grimace. Beomgyu on the other hand, seems unbothered by the former’s words. His attention is solely fixed to the cigarette in his hand, watching as it slowly burns to ashes.

“Not like me?”

The question hangs out in the open air. The edge to Beomgyu’s voice is one you don’t recognize. Cold and biting. Your gaze flickers over to Duri, but he hardly seems to backtrack at the sudden shift — if he does, and if he masks it well.

“Yeah, you’re not a risk taker. I don’t know what’s gotten through that head of yours, but it might as well bring us all down in the process.” His tone is short clipped, a hint of finalisation lingering within the statement.

Beomgyu puts out the cigarette, suffocating it under the sole of his shoe. The sound of gravel crunching is deafening in the dark alley and a shiver runs down your spine as you shift closer. The dumpster is cold against the palm of your hands, a stark reminder of the fact that you should not be here. But your legs won’t move, and you remain rooted in place as you watch the scene before you unfold in cinematic fashion.

Relaxing back against the chunky brick wall behind him, Beomgyu scoffs. “You don’t trust my judgement.” He sounds bitter, but not surprised. Like he’d known this moment was coming. As if it had been inevitable. His relationship with Duri only sent you into a further spiral of confusion.

The man in question doesn’t respond right away, his jaw clenching just slightly when he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “That’s not what I meant…” He begins, as though he was trying to carefully piece together the cracks starting to form. Beomgyu rolls his eyes, unimpressed by the former’s answer.

“I just think there are smarter ways to go about this. And I can–”

“I don’t need your help.”

Beomgyu’s dark eyes narrow on the man opposite him. He no longer looked like he was discussing the weather, his shoulders tensing momentarily. “You were nothing before me, and you will be nothing after me.” He spits the words out like they disgusted him. His gaze follows Duri with repugnance — silently daring him to continue his foolish rant.

Your breath hitches in your throat, his casual and blunt statement echoing across the alley.

“Come on man”, Duri says as he raises his hands in surrender. “I’m trying to let you in on another perspective.”

Intent on ignoring him, Beomgyu fishes up another cigarette. But before he can light it he throws a glance over his shoulder, eyes directed to the dumpster you hid behind. You quickly duck, swallowing the gasp that threatened to slip past your slips at the thought of being caught. You clasp a hand over your mouth, remaining perfectly still as you pray he would drop the matter again.

“What is it?” Duri asks, as if the fire could possibly use more fuel. Beomgyu merely huffs, the clink of his lighter following shortly. “Nothing”, he grunts, “Thought I saw something.”

There’s a brief moment of silence that follows, but it’s not until Duri speaks again that you dare peek your head out once more. He’s taken a bold step closer, standing only a few feet away from Beomgyu who seemed more interested in the cigarette between his fingers than whatever was currently going on.

“I just think we should push it back before–”

He never gets to finish his sentence, and you catch the twitch of Beomgyu’s brow before he grabs Duri by the loose collar of his shirt, slamming him back against the opposite wall of the narrow alleyway — cigarette long forgotten about and left to quietly burn on the ground.

Duri lets out a pained groan, his eyes squeezing shut before slowly peeling back open. Beomgyu’s nose is pressed inches from his own, eyes flaming with a rage you had never before seen on him. “Will you just fucking drop it?” He seethes through gritted teeth, hot breath fanning across Duri’s face in short exhales.

You watch the tense exchange, from the way Beomgyu’s body cages Duri’s noticeably larger frame against the wall behind him. Arm shoved under his chin like he was ready to snap his neck if need be. This wasn’t the Beomgyu you knew, not the man who’d caressed your naked skin and kissed your trembling lips late at night. This was the Beomgyu you had deluded yourself into believing was just a flicker of your imagination.

Tonight the truth is slapped across your face, harsh and biting as it bares its teeth.

Duri swallows thickly, his head gingerly bobbing against Beomgyu’s harsh grip. “If you think you can come in here and question my decision then you’re better off back on the streets.” Beomgyu states with a loud scoff, jerking away from Duri like even the sight of the man repulsed him.

With a pained moan he rubs at the base of his neck, exhaling a sigh he’d most likely been holding in. “Alright, alright. I’ve got it…” He croaks, eyes drifting to the ground as he avoids Beomgyu’s intense gaze.

You don’t know what they had been arguing about, what could possibly have made Beomgyu snap the way he did. Then again, you had never seen anyone question his authority the way Duri had just now — foolishly refusing to back down even when given multiple chances to do so.

The night suddenly seems even darker, the sky pressing down with menace over you — silently watching, judging.

Duri pushes himself off of the wall, rolling his stiff shoulders once before giving Beomgyu a firm nod. Then he turns on his heel and you just about manage to scuffle away into a corner before he passes the dumpster you were hiding behind. He passes you without as much as a glance in your direction, his steps heavy against the dirty ground beneath.

For a moment, nothing moves. You don’t dare breathe, your hand clasped tightly over your mouth. Then the sound of a lighter pierces the air as Beomgyu lights his third cigarette.

📼 — June 11th 2022

“Say no and I’ll leave.”

Even though Beomgyu’s breath is warm against your face, the statement hangs cold and harsh in the air. You don’t open your eyes, you don’t think you could. The thought of seeing his face like this, right now, you would never be able to handle it. — You can sense the frustration as it rolls off of him in waves, each one hitting harder than the last.

But he doesn’t move, he doesn’t push further, even though you know he wants to. His rings are chilling cold when his knuckles brush against your cheek. You flinch at the sudden contact, a shuddering breath escaping your parted lips. His hand drops from your face again, the quiet groan he emits conveys a thousand unspoken words. You just wish you could understand them.

Tonight was different, and you didn’t know why. His touch wasn’t the burning fire you had become so accustomed to, so addicted to. It was malicious and it scared you, he scared you. Beomgyu had never made you feel like that before, but perhaps you had reached a point of immunity. A place where his intoxicating lies would no longer fill the void in your chest — but amplify it.

“Say no and this ends.”

It wasn’t about the sex anymore.

His voice is sharp against the side of your face, and this time your eyes flutter open. He’s already watching you, he has been for a while. The hotel room suddenly feels small, its walls are closing in on you and the mattress beneath is swallowing you whole. But Beomgyu is all you see — he always was. And he knows that you know. Whatever you felt, he knew you were going to feel before it even hit.

Now he was giving you an escape, a way out.

But you already know you won’t take it. And he does too.

When your lack of response becomes daunting, he moves. It’s slow at first, slower than he would ever go with you. His hand trails along your thigh, fingers paying attention to the hem of your tight dress. He fiddles with the material for a moment, almost like he was stalling for time. You didn’t want him to. It felt like your time together was running out, slipping between your fingers like sand.

He pushes the garment up slowly, dark gaze flickering up to meet yours every other second — making sure that you were still you, there with him. You let him undress you, one of his hands finding the zipper on the back as he gently tugs it down. The sound is almost painful in the silent hotel room.

Your dress drops to the floor with a thud, leaving you bared to him just like you had been so many times before. He eyes you with a greed so twisted you wonder how you hadn’t seen it before. Like he knew no shame. You were beginning to think he might not.

Hands on your waist, he guides you back against the bed, lowering you onto it with practiced ease. Your body follows willingly in his grasp. The wordless actions speak volumes in the hushed air. His warm body joins yours on the mattress, but tonight he lays beside you, and not on top. He trails one hand along your calf, passing your knee slowly.

His breath is hot against your neck, lips hovering above your skin for just a moment too long. The rings on his fingers are cold against your naked thigh as his hand grips it with a little more force than necessary. His voice is nothing but a low drawl of his tongue, the words quiet yet heavy in the dark room, “You gonna let me fuck you tonight?”

Beomgyu would never ask you something like that, wouldn't speak to you in that tone. That whispered almost wanting tone. It could easily be mistaken for something it wasn’t. You knew he wouldn’t want that. Still, you nod, shifting to lay on your side as you face him.

“Yes.”

His lip twitches, far from a smile but still not quite the smirk he would so often flash you. Then his hand disappears from your thigh, landing on the nape of your neck as he brings your lips to meet his. The kiss is just as slow as his previous moves and just as dark as the night outside your window.

You allow him to slide his tongue into your mouth, drinking in his every breath like it was your last. Desperately trying to eat the lies he was feeding you. But after what you had witnessed tonight, you didn’t know if you could ever taste him the same again.

His body presses against yours. Clothed erection pushing against one of your thighs with unspoken demand. You sigh when his hand moves from your neck and down your naked back, fingers toying with the lock of your bra — but in the end leaving it be. He trails lower, slowly pushing your panties down your already parted thighs. He doesn’t bother taking them off completely either, instead letting them pool around your knees. Not because he was impatient like he would be most nights — but like he thought he was protecting something sacred by not undressing you completely, something he wouldn’t even think twice about on most nights.

You shudder when his fingers slide against your cunt, thumb finding your clit within seconds as he drags slow circles over it. “More”, you quietly beg, hips shifting forward as you seek out more of his touch — despite your better judgement.

Beomgyu’s lips are still on your own, but the kiss has shifted into a mere ghost of what it would usually be. Now it was just the soft and gentle caress of him against you.

The soft gasp you emit when he slides a finger inside bounces off the walls of your hotel room. It tells him everything he wants and needs to hear. Revealing your truth to him like it was the only thing that mattered in this moment.

You lay back when he unbuckles his belt, unzipping the front of his pants before shoving a hand down — a muffled groan escaping his lips. He strokes himself slowly, like time didn’t matter to him. You watch, just like you always would, tongue held in anticipation as your thighs squeeze together.

What had happened just a few hours ago was far from the Beomgyu in front of you right now. Maybe that was all that should be allowed to even matter. This was the real Beomgyu, wasn’t it? The one no one else ever got to see, no one but you. It’s what you like to think. It’s the lies you liked to feed yourself when Beomgyu wasn’t there to do it for you.

He lines himself up without another word, kisses moving from your lips down to your jaw. Your fingers curl in his dark hair, twisting when you feel his hard cock breach past all the walls you had weakly tried to build up.

You both exhale, neither of you moving for a moment. Beomgyu’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as you lay on your sides — facing one another. His forehead is pressed against yours, dark eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. He presses another kiss to your lips, this one just as slow as your previous.

Setting a tortuously gentle pace, his hips rock back and forth — open mouth catching all the little sounds you make. One of your hands let go of his hair, sliding down the shirt that still covered his back. You twist the fabric when he slides even deeper inside your throbbing cunt, reminding you of just how close he could get, closer than anyone ever could.

You long to say something, to break the silence pressing down on you like a weighted blanket. But the words never come. And you’re pliant in his arms once more — even when you know you shouldn’t be.

Then suddenly, he breaks away from the kiss, leaning back just enough for you to make out parts of his face. He stills inside of you, making your whole body tremble with desire as you blink up at him expectantly. Beomgyu’s eyes find yours, lip twitching for just a second as his finger brushes along the arch of your furrowed brow.

He leans his head down, open mouth finding the exposed skin of your shoulder as he presses light kisses to it. He’s still not moving, and your hand still in his hair readjusts its grip on his dark locks. You stifle a moan when his sharp teeth drag across the juncture of your neck. His voice is low, barely audible as he says:

“Thought you knew better than to follow me outside tonight, dollface.”

You swallow, the lump in your throat growing by the second. You knew then that he knew.

END OF TAPE 09

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miupow · 1 year ago

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★ ── EST-CE QUE TU AIMES LE SEXE 。。。?

what happens when you give the boys an aphrodisiac 。。。 (requested)

╭♡ PAIRING 。〃txt ot5 x fem!reader ! GENRE 。〃pure filthy smut ! WARNINGS 。〃minors do not interact ! aphrodisiacs , breeding kink , unprotected sex , creampie mentions , mommy mention , public sex , exhibitionism , oral (m. receiving) , hair pulling , oral (f. rec) , squirting , mating press , slight somno if you squint , anal mention (my obsession with kai and anal will never end)

𝕾OOBIN ⸝⸝

he didn’t believe it for a second, all of those overblown testimonials printed on the chocolate’s wrapping; he agreed to take it with you simply because you had gone out of your way to surprise him with the sweet, your flirty excited smile and sparkling eyes enough to get him to agree to anything at all.

imagine his surprise when a primal lust overtakes him like something he had never felt before, his eyes greedy in its appraisal of your pretty face, your collarbones, your breasts. he felt possessed, just couldn’t stop himself from taking ahold of you and marking up your heated skin. you moan so pretty underneath him, clearly affected just as much as he was; with his bunny lips suctioned around your perky nipple, top pulled down for your tits to spill out, soobin is overtaken with an inhuman need to not just fuck you, but breed you. make you his forever, fill your womb with his love.

“can i cum inside?” he pants into your tits as his fat cockhead kisses your cervix, hips moving at a speed impossible to keep up with. “please, honey, can i? wanna— wanna put a baby in you, make you a mommy, please!”

𝖄EONJUN ⸝⸝

yeonjun has to make a game out of it, simply because that’s what he loves to do the most; play with you like a toy, and have you do the same to him. share some aphrodisiac chocolates he saw online before you go out on a date, see who can last the longest before you both can’t take it anymore. you bet everything that yeonjun breaks first.

you think it’ll be easy, that there was no way a little chocolate could effect you that much, but soon you’re burning up in your little tight dress, rubbing your thighs together to soothe the ache that had settled in your cunt. and yeonjun fares no better, pink in the face and squirming in his seat, too busy looking at you to focus on his expensive meal— you can’t help but slide your hand down under the table to feel if he was as hard as you thought he was.

you win just as you knew you would, yeonjun pulling you out of your seat and to the bathroom without a word; you giggle as your knees hit the tile floor, feeling triumphant even with your boyfriends cock down your throat in the bathroom of a fancy restaurant. you choke and gag around his shaft as he whispers to you every little detail of what he plans to do to you later, hand tugging at your hair and brutal pace so different than the adoration in his eyes as he fills your mouth up with his cum. “can’t ever get enough of you,” he coos, caressing your swollen cheeks, “even without the chocolates.”

𝕭EOMGYU ⸝⸝

beomgyu is willing to try anything once, especially when it comes to his dick— he’s so adventurous, in fact, that he’s always coming to you with crazier and crazier ideas, lopsided and salacious grin always managing to convince you to do whatever he wants with wet panties. he’s the one who brings the candies home, goads you into eating the entire box with him until your kisses turned heated and sticky.

“need more,” he gasps against your lips, cock tenting his jeans and bucking against your inner thigh, nimble fingers tearing you out of your clothes, “need to be inside of you..” you let him manhandle you with ease, preening as he pulls your panties to the side and delivers playful spanks to your dripping folds.

he slides his throbbing cock in with barely any prep at all, so wet you don’t even need it ; your pussy squelches loud and obscene as he bottoms out, makes beomgyu throw his head back and groan deep in his chest. you watch over your shoulder as his adams apple bobs, your chest against the mattress with your ass up in the air, held still with beomgyu’s big hands gripping tight to your hips. “fuck yeah, take it—!” he hisses, beginning to thrust in and out of your sloppy hole at an overwhelming strength and speed. “such tight fuckin’ pussy, all for me, yeah? say it, tell me whose pussy this is! fuck, i’m gonna cum already..”

𝕿AEHYUN ⸝⸝

he refuses to try them at all at first, calls them dumb placebos when you point to a display of “aphrodisiac” chocolates excitedly in the sex shop. but you don’t stop bringing them up, and taehyun would do anything if it made you happy… so he caves in and purchases them as a surprise, pulls them out one night when it’s just you and him.

he fully expects for nothing to happen at all, yet in under an hour he’s all over you, face buried between your legs as he fists his thick cock— he’s so hard it hurts, twitching and throbbing, fat tip almost purple, but he just can’t seem to tear his mouth away from your wet little pussy. “tastes so fucking good,” he moans against your engorged clit, the vibrations making you cry out. “can’t get enough..”

he doesn’t stop until you’ve squirted all over his face, his chin dripping with it as he throws your legs over his shoulders and bullies his cock into your fluttering hole. the stretch is overwhelming in the best possible way, taehyun immediately beginning to thrust up against your cervix like a man possessed. you plead with him to slow down, pussy still sensitive from your orgasm, but he’s deaf to your cries— pounding into you at a dizzying pace, those sharp teeth grit like an animal. “can’t stop,” he pants, hiking up his leg to thrust into you impossibly harder, deeper. “i gotta make you cum again!”

𝕳UENING𝕶AI⸝⸝

kai is already so insatiable, giving him an aphrodisiac was a mistake— he hasn’t let you leave the bed in hours, the both of you exhausted and sore but still so horny. your swollen abused holes leak thick globs of his cum, staining the sheets but neither of you have the energy to be bothered. not when you were so cozy in his arms, his broad chest against your back as you both drifted in and out of sleep.

you squeak in surprise when you feel kai’s hips grind lazily against the swell of your ass, cock still hard even after the countless loads he’s pumped into your womb; it slides hot and heavy between your asscheeks, teasing your gaping creampied asshole, makes your pussy ache for attention despite how worn out you were. without a thought you lift up your leg to give kai the access to slide up between your wet pussy lips.

“can you take more?” kai whispers into your ear, voice deep and groggy, and you can’t stop yourself from nodding, pushing your ass up against him. his big cock slips in so easily, tiny pussy that usually needs so much prep sucking him in so greedily, aided by all of his cum. you both moan in sync as he bottoms out, fat flared cockhead kissing your bartered cervix so sweetly. “i’ll be gentle, baby, i promise.” he purrs, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. “tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

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fairyofshampgyu · 3 months ago

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☆ Captive Royalty !

genre: crack, royalty au, fantasy au, smut, fluff

pairing: sub prince ! beomgyu x dom afab poor reader ?

synopsis: desperate times call for desperate measures…so you kidnap the prince of the kingdom and he turns out to be more of a handful than you expected.

warnings: kidnapping !! sub beomgyu, dom reader, beomgyu gets drugged, slight knife play, bondage, ropes, degrading, choking, riding, creampie, hand job, kinda dollification, overstimulation, hair pulling, orgasm denial, finger sucking ? (this sounds really dark from the warnings but it’s kinda unserious and silly and consensual)

word count: 4.8k

Prince beomgyu lets out a long, theatrical sigh, wandering aimlessly and weaving through the bushes and trees of the mystic forest a few metres away from the castle, needing a break from his duties even for just a second of reprieve. The air smelled of damp earth and fragrant wildflowers. Butterflies flitted their pretty wings lazily around him as he stepped over a cluster of bluebell flowers on the mossy floor, where mushrooms were also scattered of all different shapes and colours.

As he ventured deeper into the forest, vines and ivy curled around the tall tree trunks, practically moving and alive, shaking loose pink petals off the branches and falling atop beomgyu’s long hair instead.

He stops when he comes across a small, crystalline pond tucked away, watching as purple dragonflies hover over the surface, lily pads and petals floating on top and, beneath the clear water, koi fishes whose colourful scales practically glowed, swimming and flicking their tails elegantly. Beomgyu stood there for a moment, captivated by the tranquility of the scene. For a small second, it was as if he could finally forget everything.

But then, he mutters to himself, scowling. “I swear to the gods, hate the court, hate those stupid advisors. I hate them all.” Prince beomgyu kicks a pebble rather aggressively into the pond in his frustration.

A tiny fairy emerges out of the water, angrily screaming, hovering and pointing, coming very close to his face high pitched in a language he cannot understand, then vanishes in a puff of glitter.

Beomgyu stares blankly, then merely shrugs.

Instead, he takes a look back at the ethereal scenery once again, the forest nothing short of enchanted. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back, basking in the golden sunrays peeking through the canopy, inhaling deeply.

But his moment of peace is abruptly interrupted when he feels a cold, sharp blade pressing against his throat.

Beomgyu’s breath catches, eyes snapping open to meet a much less aesthetic view: A dagger, pressed very intimately underneath his jaw and already practically digging into his adam’s apple, “What the fu-”

“Don’t move.” Came the voice behind him.

Oh my god. He’s going to die. This is where prince beomgyu begins to panic, immediately stripping himself of his jewellery and any valuables, tossing them onto the grass, hastily. “Here! Take it! Take all of it! Please! Just not my face! I’m too handsome to die!”

You stare at him, baffled beneath the mask you were wearing, almost forgetting to keep the dagger steadily pointed at him.

“I’m not robbing you.” You say flatly. “I’m taking taking something far more valuable...”

There was a moment of silence as he looks at you cluelessly.

Then he gasps. “You’re taking my hair?!”

“I’m kidnapping you.” Tightening your grip on the dagger, you roll your eyes, grabbing the cloth from your bag, shoving it over his nose and mouth, drugging him.

“Mmfph!” The prince protests, flailing but then his eyes roll back and his limbs go limp, simply falling unconscious.

You warily eyed up the prince who now sat unconsciously tied to a chair in your cottage, head lolling to one side.

Surprisingly, it was much easier kidnapping the prince of the kingdom than you had imagined. He didn’t put up much of a fight, nor were there any guards around him, or any witnesses at all. Quite underwhelming really.

But at least everything was going even smoother than planned, you’d even written the ransom letter and had already sent it off to the king. Now you just had to wait and soon it would all be yours.

You study the prince’s face. You’d never seen him before, too preoccupied and shut away in your cottage in solitude. You didn’t care for them. Besides, what have the royals done for you other than tax you and steal all your money? Why were they even praised anyway? They just sat around doing nothing really. It was practically their fault for your situation right now.

Other than that, the prince was almost achingly pretty. He had quite handsome features, long, thick eyelashes that practically kissed his naturally flushed cheeks, perfectly round, plump lips, messy bangs falling effortlessly over his brows. His regal attire, though a little dirtied from the abduction, still extravagant, embroidered with gold thread and intricate patterns. He looked dainty and fragile all tied up. The prince reminded you of a doll.

A quiet groan breaks the silence and your staring. The prince stirs, lashes fluttering before his pretty eyes slowly blink open, dazed. He takes in his surroundings, strangely without much alarm, gaze sweeping across the decrepit interior of your cottage before landing blankly on your black cat perched menacingly on the window sill. They have a tense, silent stare off before his eyes make their way to you, looking you up and down since he hadn’t seen your face properly before, eyes raking over your figure with a brow raised. He looked almost…amused?

You supposed you didn’t cut the most terrifying figure. No scary scars, no missing eye or other limbs. Just plain clothes, a dagger at your hip, and an unimpressed expression.

The prince speaks up. “Are you part of a rebellion? Do you want to overthrow the monarchy?”

“No.”

He lazily grins, eyes trailing down to the ropes binding him. “Hmm. Then this is… a little provocative, don’t you think?”

“The hell.” You furrow your brows at a loss of words. “No! Ransom. This is for ransom! ”

“Ah.”

“You’re the prince. Your face is probably worth more than my entire life. When your daddy finds out his beloved son has been captured, I’m sure he’ll give me all the money I ask and you’ll go back to your fancy castle.” You lean back, sighing, just imagining how much gold you’ll accumulate soon, “Don’t worry, your kingdom will pay good money to have you back.”

The prince snorts. “Will they?”

You frown. “…Yes?”

He gives you a pitiful look, “I hate to say it but I think they’ll be more relieved than horrified I’m gone, to be completely honest.”

You cross your arms in confusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He says, shifting in his restraints, “that my father finds me to be an insufferable disappointment. If you think he’s going to shell out a fortune to get me back, you’re sorely mistaken. No one in that castle can stand me, too much of a ‘troublemaker’ or something apparently.”

You stare at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wish I was.” The prince replies cheerfully. “You should have kidnapped my brother Prince Huening Kai instead. They would have had a royal heart attack. If you’d taken him, they’d probably have sent an entire army after you by now.”

“I wasn’t even aware there were two of you.”

“Five actually.” He adds, “Maybe you should have done some research before kidnapping royalty.”

You roll your eyes, “Well, which one are you then?”

“Prince Beomgyu!” He beams, flashing a grin widely, looking so proud and smug, as if he were introducing himself at a royal ball, his expression entirely too relaxed for someone tied to a chair in a stranger’s cottage.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you were beginning to think.

It had been days.

And absolutely nothing.

No guards barging down your door, no royal army marching through the forest, no frantic messenger bird clawing at your window with a desperate letter from the king, promising to give you all the money in the land for his poor, precious son to come back to him.

Just pure silence.

You were starting to think either something happened to your messenger bird on the way or gods forbid, they really, truly didn’t want him back.

“I told you.” Beomgyu’s voice was maddeningly smug from where he was still bound to the chair. “Face it. They don’t want me back.”

You put a hand to your hip. “You’re lucky I haven’t gagged you.”

“Oh?” The prince raises a brow, smirking.

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “Gods. You’re disturbed.” You turn away to check the kettle heating by the fire. You were going to need tea. Lots of it.

You take a tea cup in your hand, pouring the earthy, floral brew that you had foraged from the forest, steam rising in swirls and you bring it to your mouth to drink. The warmth seeping through your fingers and into your chest, making you slightly more calmed about this whole maddening situation. Beomgyu’s eyes are on you the entire time. You supposed you could give him some too. “Here. Have some tea.”

“Can’t exactly help myself, can I?”

You huff, rolling your eyes, walking over to him, bringing a cup to his soft lips for him to sip and he looks up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes almost like he’s heavily enjoying that you’re doing this for him.

He swallows, furrowing his brows and then smacking his lips together with a pleasant noise him, savouring the taste. “Ooh Peasant tea. I like this. It’s very different to how all of my many chefs have made it for me.”

You cross your arms, nodding in approval, “It’s the best. Practically survive on it.”

He seems amused by your love for tea, nodding, sipping some more until he’s finished and you place the cup back on your counter.

You study him intently, intrigued. “So, why were you sulking around so much by the pond, kicking rocks at fairies before I, well, pointed a dagger at your throat.” There’s no easy way to describe the situation.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to! How was I supposed to know there was a fairy there?” Beomgyu protests, finding it humorous. “But, they’re forcing me to marry some princess from some other kingdom. I don’t even know her. I don’t want to get married at all.” He grimaces, staring at the ground with furrowed brows. “I hate being a prince. I have no freedom or say in anything. It’s so suffocating. I must act in a certain way, all these duties, now marriage. I don’t want any of it.” Beomgyu looks uncharacteristically and genuinely upset about it, the most sad you’ve seen him, and that’s you holding him captive.

You blink, then almost laugh. “Wow. Poor you. You really have the worst life. Must be so hard having all your meals cooked and servants at your beck and call, sleeping in a massive bed with silk sheets. In a castle. Truly.”

The prince furrows his brows at your mocking tone. “You don’t get it. It’s not all that great, you know.”

Your scoff, crossing your arms. “No, I get it. you’re incredibly privileged for those to be your only problems.”

He sulks at you, shrugging. “I guess so. I’d still rather have your life though, a peaceful, mundane, peasant life.”

You give him a flat look, nearly amused at his comical, out of touch words. “It’s far from peaceful. I’m incredibly in debt at the moment and owe money to lots of people, scary people I can’t even begin to repay. I’m doing this because I need the ransom money. You wouldn’t last a day in the real world.”

“I would!” He heavily pouts at you, taking offence. It’s almost endearing. “Anyway honestly, being held hostage has been much better than any day at the castle.”

You shake your head at the prince, sighing.

Beomgyu talked. A lot. About the castle gossip, about the ridiculous scandals of the court, all their carefully polished lies sold to the commoners, about all his other brothers and Prince Yeonjun’s newest scandalous affair.

You were never interested in anything to do with the monarchy before but for some reason, beomgyu had a natural talent for telling stories and making them compelling and he kept you very entertained at least. It also made you feel somewhat better about yourself, hearing just how much of a mess and terrible the royals really were when so many put them on some kind of pedestal as if they were better than everyone else, the tea you make, since it seems to be one of the only things he likes, and these conversations weirdly happening regularly.

“I swear to every god in existence.” Beomgyu had said, with all the endearing dramatic flair of someone telling ghost stories with a candle, “Prince Yeonjun was caught HALF NAKED, sneaking out of the royal astrologer’s tower.”

“No way.” You gaped, sipping on your tea.

He grins, victorious, revelling in your shocked expression. “Swear on my crown. I don’t even know why I’m the one they call troublesome.”

You shook your head after he’d told you many more appalling stories at the castle, unable to help the unwilling curl of amusement tugging at your lips. “Gods above. You lot really live like this?”

Beomgyu nods solemnly, “I’m so tired of that place.”

Somewhere along the way, you’d begun to like having beomgyu around, in a way that both irritated and intrigued you.

He was for sure a bratty prince, complaining endlessly about almost everything, the chair, food, the ropes digging into his skin (you had tied them more gently), dramatically whining about a small splinter he got because of the chair (you actually took it out for him and gave him a bandage).

But…for all his whining, very strange comments, and being a royal pain in the ass, (and though you wouldn’t admit it aloud), the strange companionship he offered, despite the messed up predicament, was starting to feel…maybe comforting? when you’d had nothing in the past but your cat, living alone in your cottage.

He’d become company. Real company. It had been so long since you’d had that.

You had one thing in common, you both hated your realities and wanted to get away. And you could, if this damn king would send you the ransom money and come collect his son. You’re honestly astonished. Would they even come for him? What were you supposed to do with him if they never come?

“Ughh.” Beomgyu groans dramatically, wiggling his tied hands pathetically. “I’m suffering.” He says with such an exaggerated pout it was almost impressive.

You turn around to look at him, wondering what it was now.

“My bangs are all in my eyes. I can’t see anything and I can’t move them away.” He blinks at you. Then, very deliberately, batts his lashes, those ridiculously long, doll-like lashes. “You kidnapped me.” Beomgyu says pointedly, deadpan. “The least you could do is brush my hair out of my eyes. Basic courtesy.”

You raise a brow. The audacity. But with a long sigh and contemplation, you wandered over, standing before him. He blinks up at you, the brown strands of his hair over his eye, genuinely a little pathetic and silly looking.

You brush your fingers through his messy strands gently, absentmindedly. His hair was so soft. His pretty brown eyes locked with yours, eyes following your face, unblinking, unusually quiet for once. Close.

And gods, was he pretty.

Your touch lingered longer than probably necessary, tucking the last of his bangs behind his ear, fingertips brushing against his warm skin. You swear the tips of his ears were pinker than usual too.

You finally step back, heart doing something inconvenient in your chest, you could only scowl at him.

Your kidnapping had been, by all accounts, a complete and utter failure.

It had not been the most fearsome hostage situation either, your intimidation tactics quite lacklustre, no violence, no torturing, and no damn money.

Even your cat had gotten used to him by now, seemingly liking him, curling up often in his lap, purring contently and napping. And worst of all, You were getting used to him too.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting a warm orange glow in your small cottage. The evening had settled in, quiet and still, except for the rhythmic, repetitive sound of your knife chopping into carrots on the cutting board for a stew.

“Well,” Beomgyu drawls from his usual spot, arms bound behind his back and chair, voice cutting through the ambience. “you know. You’re not exactly what I expected.”

“Why, disappointed?” Your eyes don’t leave the cutting board, still chopping and unfazed.

His lips quirk into a soft grin. “Hardly.”

That makes you pause mid-slicing the vegetables, turning around with an incredulous look, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Perhaps. You’re easy on the eyes.” The fire flickers and reflects in beomgyu’s deep brown as you as you stare at him and you catch the mischievous glint in them too.

“I’ve quite literally kidnapped you.” You fold your arms.

He shrugs in his restraints, “I know you won’t hurt me. You haven’t tortured me once. Not even a little. Makes a man wonder…”

A slow smile makes its way across your lips, brow raising at what you hear, amused. Instead, you reach for your dagger, making your way towards beomgyu and his gaze follows your every movement.

“Oh? You don’t think I have it in me?” You slowly flick some of the locks of his soft hair out his face with the sharp tip of the dagger, his breath catching in his throat at that, eyes slightly widening. Then you trace the blade leisurely along his cheek, the prince shivering at the feeling of the steel on his skin. “How are you so sure?” Beomgyu swallows, breath hitching almost looking scared for a second, but then he smirks, thrilled, eyes never leaving yours and yours never leaving his. The two of you locked in a stare now, the eye contact, quite intense.

“You like me.” Beomgyu simply beams, grinning impossibly wider.

“Like you?” You echo, sceptically, scoffing at his words. With deliberate slowness, you trace the dagger across his jawline, advancing down his pretty neck, pressing the sharp edge down a little hard—not enough to cut but enough for him to feel it and dip into his soft flesh slightly, his skin prickling up and chest rising and falling, all tensed in anticipation. “Are you sure you don’t like me?”

You point at the now growing tent in his pants that was too hard to ignore. A violent red flush creeps over his cheeks, embarrassed as you cast a deliberate, judging glance downwards with an arched brow. How incredibly absurd. You’re pointing a knife at him and he’s getting turned on.

He purses his lips together for a second, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard, but then he runs his mouth again, voice a little breathless, but he grins regardless, “What are you going to do about it?”

Where on earth does he gain this confidence from?

“Leave you. That’s disgusting.” You say, pulling your dagger away in theatrical repulse and moving away from him.

Beomgyu instantly splutters in panic, thrashing helplessly against his bonds, pathetically pleading, eyes wide. “B-but! Wait! Please. It hurts!”

You smile, satisfied, stepping closer to him once again. That’s more like it. “Why should I?”

He just looks up at you so severely desperate, so pitiful. Your eyes flicker down to his slightly wobbly lips and then back up at his panicked eyes. And as if drawn by some invisible force, definitely not of your own doing, you grab and tug at one of the ropes, impulsively leaning down to kiss him, he kisses back instantly, fervently, surging forward and leaning into the kiss as much as his bindings would allow, lips crashing together, all heated and messy, needy and sloppy, beomgyu whines softly into your mouth and gods help you, it does things to you. You bite down on his plump lower lip until he gasps, shoving your tongue down his, dominating the kiss and he just lets you. He moans, muffled and desperate, already wriggling in his ropes, trying to get just a little closer to you, more of you.

You then pull away, he still tries to chase your mouth back even when you pull away but you move to his throat, trailing your lips down his neck, ghosting over, he tilts his head back obediently, warm breath sending him shivering before you bite and suck harshly.

“Please.” He pants, delirious, so worked up already, eyes squeezed shut. “Touch me. Please.”

How could you refute? He squirms in his chair when you begin to palm him through his pants, already embarrassingly hard, gasping so loudly, jaw going slack just from that. Beomgyu bucks helplessly into your touch as you continue to teasingly grind your palm, kissing and sucking on his neck again, he’s all just needy whines and whimpers, pleas falling from his lips for a little more.

You love his reactions and the pathetic noises he makes, so worked up from a little friction on his clothed dick. You want more of it, you want to break the pretty little prince. You sit in his lap, unzipping his pants before him, cock just as pretty as every other part of him, leaky, wet and red, you brush your thumb over his cute tip, spreading the precum teasingly slow, watching his face.

“Oh…” Beomgyu looks down himself, brows knitting together, shuddering and groaning softly.

The sound when you wrap your hand around his cock and glide your hand up and down is impossibly loud over the crackling of the fire in your cottage, sticky and squelchy and the prince already seems far gone from the slow pumping, unraveling at the first stroke, pupils blown wide, glossy lips parted. How dirty.

“Did you seriously get hard from your captor threatening you with a dagger? You’re fucking sick, beomgyu.” You ridicule him in a faux saccharine tone, hand pumping his dick faster, twisting around the tip that he’s panting now, his head dropping forward, resting and falling on your shoulder, you bring your other hand to stroke at his hair. You can tell he’s close, moaning out prettily.

He still manages to bite back though like the brat he is so clearly he’s not that much of a mess you like you want him to be, he lifts his head back to look at you. “You’re the one who kidnapped me. You’re sick.”

“Fine then. If I’m so sick, I’ll stop.” You still your movements on his dick, pulling your hand away. He wails, loudly crying at that, trying so hard to move, pulling uselessly at the ropes to chase your hand but he can’t.

“No! Please. I’ll die.” There he goes being so dramatic again, tears brimming in his panicked doe brown eyes, hyperventilating. The fact that this is the most distressed he’s gotten being kidnapped is honestly concerning. “Please,” He rasps, wrecked, dazed “fuck me.”

You cruelly laugh at the sight, tutting. “Such crude words coming from a prince...”

He just whines frustratedly in response, exasperatedly frowning like he’s having a tantrum.

“Aw. What a poor little prince.” You mockingly coo at him, stroking his cheek but he leans into it anyway, yearning for more, wanting any sort of touch from you now, you drag your teeth against the lobe of his cute pink ear licking, goading him. He shivers at that, sucking in his breath.

“You’re torturing me!” Beomgyu comically pouts.

“I thought you said I wasn’t torturing you at all.”

“Well now you are. You’re killing me. I’m going to die.”

“This is what you call torturing?” You chuckle incredulously.

“Yeah. Fuck me now.” Beomgyu looks like he might combust if you so much as deny him another second, his cock twitching in the open air, painfully red and glistening. You haven’t touched him in what? Seconds? But it feels like an eternity to him. “Just…please—”

You don’t even wait to hear more of his insufferable begging, you lift your skirt and hips up, pushing your panties to the side and sinking down on his dick unceremoniously, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, gasping sharply, mouth hanging open.

“Holy shit.” He groans. “You’re, oh my god—”

Beomgyu throws his head back, practically going cross eyed at the feeling of your warm tight pussy around him. You start to bounce on his cock continuously, riding him and holding onto his shoulders roughly to stabilise yourself., beomgyu moaning shamelessly loud, high pitched and strangled like a girl, dumb and dazed, drooling onto you at the feeling of your pussy.

You bring your hand to his cheek, kissing beomgyu hard, hands tangling in his long hair, tugging, fucking him mercilessly as he sinfully and filthily moans into your mouth. Then he pulls away.

“Choke me.” Beomgyu licks his swollen lips, looking at you sexily, eyes half lidded.

“You’re perverted.” But your hands wrap around the column of his delicate, pretty neck, now marked and mauled. Beomgyu exhales a shaky breath like it was all he wanted.

“Ah…harder.” Beomgyu gulps, pretty Adam’s apple moving as he does so.

You squeeze harder around his neck and he hisses, furrowing his brows, face scrunching up gorgeously, a pretty vein in his neck popping out. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gasping for air, letting out breathy noises, face and neck flushed, you press down just a little more, still bouncing on his cock, deliberately clenching around him. You feel him twitching inside you and then he cums, whole body convulsing, spilling his load inside your pussy.

But you don’t stop, bringing your hand to his shoulders roughly again, digging your nails into him, fucking him through it. He whimpers painfully, straining against the ropes, but he can only helplessly take whatever you give him.

“stop!—ah! too much, too sensitive…” Beomgyu sniffles and sobs, gasping at the overstimulation, babbling incoherently.

“No it’s not. You were begging to be fucked, now it’s too much for you?” You tighten your grip on his shoulders.

He’s about to whine and complain but you take two of your fingers, stuffing them in his mouth to shut him up, he sorrowfully sucks on them like a slut instead, moaning around them whorishly, gazing up at you with teary watery eyes and his pretty wet swollen lips. Gods. Just looking at the state of him, pretty, writhing, helplessly tied up, it’s making you go insane. He still looks like a doll, face red and rosy, dolly lashes thick fluttering and clumped together with tears, soft hair now all messy, bangs damp and all sweaty. A wrecked, cracked porcelain doll, your doll, yours to ruin and play with. He looks divine. What a whore of a prince.

You bounce on his dick mercilessly, riding him faster and faster and faster to get yourself to reach your high too, bringing your finger to your clit, rubbing. One final look at beomgyu’s face, pitiful doe eyes and sucking on your fingers and that does it, cumming around his twitching dick. With a muffled scream and sob, beomgyu’s cumming again, looking like he’s going to pass out, spurting and shooting more of his warm and sticky white ropes of cum into you, cumming so much, it’s all creamy, completely milking him dry, his whole body shaking beneath you and his chest is heaving like a drowning man, gasping for air.

Only then do you reach for your dagger again, slicing the rope, slithering to the ground. Beomgyu falls forwards instantly, collapsing into your arms, gripping and clinging to you, trembling like a leaf, hands roaming all over you and hugging you tight, the first time he could actually touch you. He strokes your cheek, looking at you so softly, panting and smiling. And beomgyu kisses you so desperately over and over, like he’s starved, hands shaking, clutching your clothes, you cupping his cheeks feeling equally starved.

But your kissing is interrupted by a messenger bird throwing a scroll with an unmistakable royal crest through your window. You get up to read it:

An armed procession will arrive by nightfall to collect our Prince Beomgyu in exchange for the agreed ransom.

— His Majesty, the King.

There’s silence for a few moments until beomgyu speaks up.

“Are you…going to return me back then?” Beomgyu asks quietly, like he already knows the answer and is fearing it, his shoulders are slumped and sagged as he looks down, already looking miserable and like a devastated, heartbroken puppy, thinking about having to return back to living in the castle.

You think for a moment. You fold the scroll neatly, setting it on the table. “No.”

Beomgyu blinks, head snapping up in disbelief. “No?”

You smirk. “I’m taking something far more valuable.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, and then stars. His brown eyes completely light up, sparkling with uncontrollable delight, you could practically see his tail wagging if he had one.

Beomgyu scrambles to his feet, coming closer to, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into another messy kiss, “Really?” Beomgyu breathes as he pulls away, staring at you so fondly and excited, holding your face. You nod happily.

You both start giggling like idiots.

By the time the army reaches your cottage that evening, it is already abandoned.

And somewhere, gods only knows where, you’re running hand in hand through the forest, long gone, cat tucked under one arm, and just enough tea packed to last the journey.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: do not ask what this is 😭 I know it makes zero sense but thats kinda the point it was just supposed to be unhinged unserious crack smut 😍🫶

#beomgyu smut #txt smut #sub!beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu hard hours #sub!idol #beomgyu hard thoughts #sub!txt #sub beomgyu #sub idol #choi beomgyu smut #kpop smut #dom!reader #dom! reader #dom reader #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #sub txt

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dawngyu · 6 months ago

Text

THE SLOW SURRENDER

Pairing: chaebol husband choi beomgyu x wife chaebol fem!reader

summary: The fear that you’re losing something you never truly had. Your own ring, now too heavy in your palm. A ring that should have meant forever.

Your deepest fear. Your husband.

warnings: reader discretion is advised. infidelity, arranged marriage, slow-burn, angst, toxic dynamics, emotional attachment, miscarriage!, misunderstandings, lovelorn, alcohol!consumption, guilt, repentance, rectification, accident, DUI(pls don't), anxiety!, panic-attack, implication of postpartum!depression, used different idols as ocs. if any of the warnings above might be triggering for you, please step back. let me know if I missed anything.

smut-warnings: MDNI, dubcon, explicit!descriptions, different smut-scenes. guilt-ridden!smut,beomgyu begging and crying while doing"it".

wc: 24k — playlist here.

notes: may this story tear you apart, and somehow, when it’s over, stitch you back together piece by piece.

a big thank you to my beta reader.

How is it that your own wedding makes you want to flee?

"To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

His voice is strangely distant—the words belong to someone else, rehearsed and repeated.

The ring slips onto your finger, its cold touch startling against your skin. You can’t tell if it’s the chill of the metal that makes you shiver—or the way his voice carries an indifference that seems to sit deep in your chest, pulling your breath with it.

The wedding dress—tailored from the finest silk, adorned with labyrinthine details—feels like something borrowed. Isn’t this supposed to be every girl’s dream? The happiest day of your life? The moment where everything begins—the start of your own family, your own story?

None of it feels like it. Not when he hasn’t said a single word to you since you arrived. It plagues your mind. And all you want to do is kick off the heels that bite into your feet, rip off the tiara that feels like a crown of lead, and run.

You let out a shaky exhale, the breath trembling in your chest when the ring settles on your finger. Your hands slip from his grasp, falling limply to your sides. The vows are done, the words spoken, but all you feel is an overwhelming urge to escape.

Your head turns, seeking the one person who feels safe. Your unsteady gaze finds Soobin, his worried eyes already fixed on you. He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, the kind only he would know how to give. All you want is to fall apart—to let the tears come, to crumble into the silent comfort of his eyes, whispering it’s okay.

The pastor’s voice pulls you back, and your soon-to-be husband cups your face with a tenderness that feels reluctance, almost calculated. Hands warm but the eyes that meet yours, cold.

He leans in, and you close your eyes. His lips brush yours, soft, landing just shy of your bottom lip.

“And now, I pronounce you husband and wife,” the pastor declares, the words echoing hollowly in your ears.

Everyone claps.

It's official.

He is now your husband.

"Can you at least smile?" your mother’s sharp voice cuts, gaze fixed on you with her usual expectation. Her lips press together in disapproval. "I don’t want you embarrassing us, honey," she adds, eyes narrowing.

You force a small, strained smile as another guest offers their congratulations. The words feel hollow, and meaningless.

"Mother." Soobin’s voice interrupts, his equally sharp gaze lands on her, and without waiting for her permission, he steps closer, hand brushing your elbow. "We have friends over there. I’ll take Y/N for a bit."

Your mother opens her mouth, distaste printed on her face. "I could go with her—"

"It’s just our friends, Mother," Soobin interjects, his words clipped but polite enough to stop her in her tracks. "Nothing that requires your attention. Besides, I believe Miss Park was trying to get your attention earlier."

Before she can argue further, Soobin’s hand slips into yours, and he gently tugs you away. The grip is reassuring, steady—something to anchor you in this mess.

The crowd seems endless. More congratulations, more empty smiles. Your eyes wander, scanning the room, searching for the one person who should be at your side. But he isn’t there. He isn't… here.

Your husband is nowhere to be found. He vanished as soon as the ceremony ended.

Soobin doesn’t say anything as he leads you into a quiet, empty room. Once inside, he shuts the door firmly behind you, sealing out the noise of the party.

The second the door clicks, his hands are on your face, cradling you like you might break. And you do.

"Soobin," you choke out, your voice trembling. Hot tears stream down your face, and he pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

"Shh," he murmurs, his voice shaky, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. "It’s okay. Let it out."

The tears come in waves, carrying with them all the weight you’ve been holding in—every forced smile, every empty thank yous, every aching reminder of your husband. That today isn’t what it should be.

"It hurts me," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "It hurts me that my dearest, sister had to go through with this." His words tremble, just like his hands that hold you tightly.

You can’t bring yourself to reply. Instead, you cling to him, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his jacket—making his heart clench. "Where the fuck is he anyway?" his voice betrays his frustration.

"I don’t—I don’t know," you whisper through your sobs. "How am I supposed to do this, Soobin? He wouldn’t even look at me." And beneath it all, the deeper truth haunts you. It isn’t just his absence or his coldness that hurts.

It’s the undeniable, unspoken reality that settles into your bones and refuses to leave: Choi Beomgyu doesn’t love you—not the way you love him.

The echoes of your wedding vows dance in your ears. For better or worse, you hear. For richer or poorer. In sickness and in health.

Until death do us part.

Three families—known as the Choi Enterprises—dominate the landscape of your country.

Names synonymous with power, wealth, and control. Together, they form an empire that touches nearly every facet of life, businesses towering over the economy like unshakable pillars.

Untouchable.

The first family commands the skies. They own the nation’s largest airline, a fleet that spans lands, with Choi Yeonjun, the celebrated heir, poised to inherit it all.

The second family shapes the skyline with their sprawling malls, and colossal structures that symbolize luxury and excess. Choi Beomgyu, their only son, is the face of it.

And then there’s your family, the architects of indulgence. You own the most prestigious hotels in the country, five-star havens that host the rich, the famous, and the powerful. Your brother, Choi Soobin—the prodigy, the golden child who has been groomed for this role his entire life.

And then there’s you. The second child. Since young, you were conditioned, moulded—not to lead, not to build, but to belong to someone else. To be a wife. One whose marriage would serve a purpose, a bargaining chip in a deal that you have no voice to protest.

Every day since you came of age felt like walking on thin ice, never knowing when it would crack beneath you. You lived with the constant dread that your father could announce your engagement at any last moment. If you were lucky, perhaps it would be someone whose face you recognized, or someone whose name didn’t sound foreign on your lips.

The three families have stood side by side for decades, their ties intertwined by history and convenience. With the heirs of each family so close in age, it was inevitable that you all ended up in the same place: a ridiculously expensive university your families could buy their way into.

It was no surprise that you had known Choi Beomgyu since you were children. And that you've loved him since.

Though you could never quite pinpoint when it began.

Your nine-year-old eyes scanned the room, overwhelmed by the sea of adults towering over you. Too many big, tall people, too many unfamiliar faces. It was the first time your dad had brought you along, always choosing your older brother instead. Never you.

“Would you like something to eat, Y/N?” your nanny asked. You shook your head, distracted. You were trying to find your brother, the one you’d begged to follow today, only to lose him. You had thought this place would be exciting, but now, you would have preferred serving tea to your dolls.

This place wasn’t fun at all.

When your nanny got busy with a conversation, you seized the chance to slip away. You weaved through the crowd, ducking under tables when the adults became too dense. You spotted Soobin ahead, standing with his friend—Yeonja? No, Yeonjun. The one who teased you mercilessly whenever he visited your house. They were too far away.

Giggling with excitement, you ran towards them, eager to finally reach your brother. But your foot caught on the edge of a rug, and you fell hard. “Ow.” You whimpered, face smacking the floor. A sharp, stinging pain in your mouth made your eyes well up. You wiped at your lips and froze when your fingers brushed against something small and hard.

Your front tooth had come out. “No. Soobin, Daddy!” you wailed, embarrassment creeping in as people started to stare. You were about to shout again when a boy appeared, no taller than you, holding out a handkerchief.

“Use this,” he said.

“No,” you mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t want it.”

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Do you want everyone to think you’re ugly?” His words made you pause, his brown eyes studying you with a mix of curiosity and something else—something protective. The way he stood, it was as if he was shielding you from the judgmental eyes around you. “If you keep crying like that, everyone will think you are.”

The bluntness startled you, and it worked. Your mommy doesn't like it whenever you're crying anyway. She says it's unsightly. You grabbed the handkerchief, sniffling as you dabbed at your mouth. He watched you stand wobbly, one brow raised in quiet observation.

“Soobin?” he asked, recognizing your brother’s name.

You nodded, surprised that he knew.

He nodded back, taking your pinkie in his small hand and leading you across the yard, toward your brother safely.

That day was the day you first met your husband.

"Hey, have you heard? Choi Beomgyu and Park Ji-won broke up for the fourth time this semester," Jake, one of your batchmates, announces with a grin, his voice cutting through the chatter of your little group. The names make you freeze mid-conversation. "It’s hilarious, bro. Ji-won was literally stomping her feet like a kid."

"You little scandalmonger," Ryu-jin quips from beside you, rolling her eyes. "Why are you so invested in them? They’re a batch ahead of us. We don’t even cross paths with them."

You won’t encounter Choi Beomgyu often. The last time you had a proper, civil conversation—one forced by your parents—was when you were fifteen, and even then, your brother had been there too. That was five years ago.

During your first year, Choi Beomgyu was in the second. He got a girlfriend, Park Ji-won, the queen bee of their batch. Beomgyu was already famous, and their relationship quickly gained a reputation of its own, known for its ups and downs, the drama playing out like a spectacle for everyone to watch.

“Uh, h-hi, Y/N.” A boy stammers nervously in front of you. You look up, surprised to see him holding out a small box of chocolates. “I… I made these for you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft smile forms on your lips as you reach out to take it. “Thank you, Hanbin.”

The way his name rolls so easily off your tongue catches him off guard. His eyes widen, and his face flushes a deep shade of red. He stammers out something that might be “you’re welcome” before ducking his head in a quick bow and practically fleeing the scene.

As he disappears into the crowd, Ryu-jin lets out a low whistle, her grin mischievous. “Oh-ho, my ever-charming and impossibly kind Y/N,” she teases, pinching your cheek in a way that makes you laugh and bat her hand away.

You hold the box of chocolates out to her, and without missing a beat, she takes it with a delighted, “Don’t mind if I do!”

“Why do you always know everyone’s names?” Jake asks, leaning over to snag a piece of chocolate before Ryu-jin can stop him. He pops it into his mouth, then gives you a mock incredulous look. “There are way too many people trying to win you over. If I were you, I wouldn’t even bother keeping track.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t really try to memorize their names, Jake,” you explain, your voice softening. “But when someone puts themselves out there like that—when they go out of their way to do something kind for me—even if I don’t feel the same, the least I can do is acknowledge it. Knowing their name… it’s just part of respecting the effort they made.”

Jake leans back, arms crossed, pretending to look unimpressed. “You’re way too nice for your own good, you know that?”

The rest of the conversation became a blur. The details didn’t matter—they never really did. Choi Beomgyu had gotten back together with her again. That’s how it always went, didn’t it? Still, your mind dawdled on him, as it often did, bonded to a memory from so long ago: the boy with sceptic eyes and a hand who had guided you safely to your brother.

You couldn’t explain it fully, this quiet pull you felt toward him.

Maybe it was the way he kept to himself at gatherings, speaking only when necessary. His words always carried a weight your mother would later describe as "intelligent," her tone laced with rare approval. It could’ve been his eyes, dark and warm, matching the soft chaos of his hair. Or perhaps it was his low voice, that left a faint shiver dancing along your spine without warning.

Life had always been laid out for you, each piece polished and placed neatly on a silver platter. Nothing ever seemed truly exciting, not when you could have anything you wanted with minimal effort. You’d never been particularly interested in dating, either. Why chase something when the pursuit itself felt dull?

Choi Beomgyu was… different. He wasn’t even someone you could simply talk to. Maybe that’s why he fascinated you so much.

He's impossible to ignore.

"He's sick again… ugh."

The words grated on your nerves, cutting through the hallway like nails on a chalkboard. You were at your locker, minding your own business, stacking books into your bag. Ji-won’s loud voice, drew the attention of everyone within earshot.

You were ready to walk away from the nauseating cheap fog of their perfume, when her next words stopped you cold.

"Beomgyu's sick," she continued, tossing her hair back like it was some grand inconvenience to her. "We went shopping yesterday, and he lent me his umbrella when it rained. Now he's sick. Honestly, such an idiot move."

How could she talk about him like that? Here, in front of all these people, where anyone could hear?

"And I told him not to play basketball today," Ji-won added with a careless shrug. "I mean, it's not like some game is more important than my plans."

Some game? The basketball match wasn’t just some game—it was one of the biggest events of the year, something their team had poured weeks of practice into. And she expected him to ditch it for her whims?

The sharp clang of your locker shutting ripped through the air, louder than you intended when you closed it. The hallway fell silent. Ji-won flinched, startled by the sound, then turned, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt her. But when her eyes met yours, the words died in her throat.

Your stare pinned her in place, unwavering. The entire hallway seemed to hold its breath, watching, waiting. Everyone knew better than to cross you—Choi trinity’s princess.

After a few long seconds, you broke eye contact, turned on your heel and walked away, each step of your Valentino sandals echoing with you.

As much as you wanted to speak, as much as the words burned at the back of your throat, you couldn’t. Because no matter how much Ji-won infuriated you, no matter how carelessly she spoke about him, this wasn’t your battle to fight.

You had no right to.

Beomgyu wasn’t yours to defend.

You body moved without thinking, pulling your phone out to call your driver. Medicine. Ingredients for a recovery soup. You listed everything quickly, your voice brisk to mask the slight shake in it.

Cooking had always been something you loved. There was a comfort in its simplicity—a recipe was just steps to follow, a methodical course that brought things to life. You liked how it could make someone happy, how it could bring warmth, even when words couldn’t.

When the ingredients arrived, you made your way to the university’s cooking room. It was meant for culinary students, but a single request to the club president had granted you access.

You tied your hair back, rolled up your sleeves and got to work. The familiar motions of chopping, stirring, and seasoning steadied you. The savoury aroma filled the room, spilling over into your senses. When the soup was done, you ladled it into a glass container, the warmth radiating through your hands. Perfect for the chilly wind outside.

It's no surprise that he got sick.

You packed it carefully, along with the medicine, into a small bag, and made your way toward his classroom. Sunghoon had told you where Beomgyu’s seat was, promising to keep it quiet. No one could know about this.

Not even Beomgyu himself.

The classroom was empty when you arrived, just as you’d hoped. Rows of desks stretched before you, soaked in the soft, dim light of late afternoon. Your steps faltered when you unexpectedly spotted him. You were about to turn around when you noticed he was asleep.

There he was, slumped over his desk, his head resting on folded arms. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, his face flushed with fever.

You swallowed hard, the sight tugging at something deep inside you. His eyelashes, dark and delicate, brushed against his cheeks, and for a moment, he looked so unguarded, so unlike the version of him you were used to seeing.

Slowly, you approached, placing the bag on the desk beside him with the utmost care, as if any sound might disturb him. But as much as you tried to stay quiet, the pounding of your heart seemed impossibly loud in the silence.

You stood there longer than you should have, your gaze lingering on the soft lines of his face. His fever-reddened cheeks, his slightly parted lips—he looked so vulnerable, so human in a way that made your chest ache.

Your breath caught as you turned to leave. It was hard to breathe in this room, hard to ignore the charm he had on you, even now. With one last glance at his sleeping form, you turned and walked out.

It felt like you were leaving your heart with him.

Beomgyu stirs awake, his body aching and cold, as if the chill had seeped into his skin. His head feels heavy, but a faint warmth near him pulls him in. He blinks sluggishly, there's—a container of soup resting on his desk. Soup?

Confused but drawn to it, he sits up slowly, the movement making his head spin. His fingers tremble slightly as he uncaps the container, and the smell that greets him is like a hug he didn’t know he needed. His stomach rumbles in response.

His gaze drops to the items beside it: medicine, utensils, carefully placed. Whoever left this thought of everything.

He picks up the spoon, dipping it into the golden broth. Bringing it to his lips, he tastes it. His eyes widen, a soft sound escaping him—surprised. It’s incredible.

It reminds him of his mother’s cooking, back when she still had time to make him meals. A strange fullness settles in his chest as he takes another spoonful, the warmth spreading, chasing away the numbness. He can’t stop eating—it’s too good.

“Babe?”

The sound of Ji-won’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks up as she walks in, holding two water bottles. Her eyes land on the container in his hands, her expression flickering with something unreadable.

“Oh,” she says casually, stepping closer.

Beomgyu smiles, his lips curving softly, his voice lighter than it’s been all day. “Did you make this?” he asks, hope threading through his tone. “It’s amazing. Seriously, it’s… it’s so good. Fucking delicious.”

Ji-won blinks, startled by his enthusiasm. He was grumpy and on edge all day because of his fever. Who left this? she wonders, panic flickering beneath her composed exterior, her gaze darts to the container again, then back to Beomgyu, who’s looking at her expectantly.

“Oh, yeah—yeah!” she blurts, forcing a bright smile. “Of course, I made it.”

Beomgyu tilts his head, surprised. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Anything for my boyfriend,” Ji-won replies, stepping closer as she places the water bottles on his desk. Her smile feels tight, but she pushes through. “That’s how much I love you.”

He chuckles softly, eating a spoonful again. “Well, I love it. Thank you for this. It made me feel so much better.”

That wasn’t the last time.

You told yourself it would be. Swore it, even. No more going out of your way for him. No more small, secret gestures. But every time you thought it was over, you found yourself pulled back in, like some invisible thread tying you to him.

It started with the soup. The day after you left it, you saw him. His face, pale and tired the day before, was flushed with warmth again, life returning to his features. Sunghoon mentioned, almost offhandedly, how Beomgyu wouldn’t stop bragging about the meal, how he raved about it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

And something about that stuck with you.

From then on, it became quite a bad habit. Throughout college, whenever you heard he was sick, you found yourself leaving small comforts behind. A bottle of tea on his desk, sweets slipped into his lockers during a lecture. And it didn’t stop there.

One time, Beomgyu forgot something important—a book, a charger, you don’t even remember now. You lent yours to Sunghoon, pretending you didn’t care, pretending it wasn’t just another way to help Beomgyu without him knowing.

Because you didn't want anything back.

When rumors spread about him sneaking around with his girlfriend, you stepped in before it escalated. His father will be angry about it, so you talked to that person who caught him, not for his sake but for your own, because the thought of his world unraveling in front of him was something you couldn’t bear to witness.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

It wasn’t for him. It couldn’t be.

It was for you.

The way your eyes scanned every room at social gatherings, always searching for his familiar face in the crowd. The way you couldn’t relax until you caught sight of him or the way your heart jumped whenever you spotted him, even if he didn’t notice you.

It was an addiction. One you couldn’t seem to break, no matter how many times you promised yourself you’d let go.

Were you in love with him for those four years? Or was it more than that?

"As you already know, this is Y/N, son," Beomgyu's mother announces, her perfectly manicured hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Beomgyu’s gaze meets yours. His hair is longer now, sitting at the edges of his sharp jawline, almost to his shoulders—much different to how you remember him last, on his graduation day. A whole year has passed since then. And you've graduated now too.

His suit—a dark blue so deep it could pass for black—fits him perfectly, exuding quiet sophistication. In contrast, your white Balmain dress feels almost too bright, too bold, clinging to you in a way that leaves no room for subtlety. You feel exposed under his probing eyes.

This morning, your mother had insisted—no, demanded—that you wear an elegant dress. You hadn’t understood why, but now the reason stands clear.

Beside you, your brother Soobin sits rigid, yet observing. He’s always been offensive, and tonight is no exception.

The two Choi family heads are deep in conversation, their voices low but purposeful, like they’re planning something big. It’s just the two families here tonight, seated at an impossibly long table in an equally expensive restaurant. The grandeur of the setting only amplifies it—the entire floor of this lavish place reserved just for this dinner, the emptiness around you making it feel more like a stage than a private meal.

“Your marriage will take place at the end of the year,” Beomgyu’s father declares. The words snap you out of your daze, and your head jerks toward him in shock. A soft gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“What?” Beomgyu’s voice is sharp. His jaw tightens when he leans forward, composure beginning to crack. “You made me end things with Ji-won last week, and now you’re telling me I’m engaged?” He practically spits the words, hands curl into fists on the table. “To someone I don’t even know?”

Ji-won. You flinch involuntarily, hands dropping to your lap. You start picking at your nailbeds. The air feels thick—too thick to breathe.

“Who is that?” Beomgyu’s father demands, his tone filled with disdain. “I told you not to mention that whore again.” His words are venomous, and you barely have time to register the insult before the sound of Beomgyu’s chair scraping against the polished floor reverberates through the room.

Everyone flinches as he rises, his movements full of suppressed fury. Your heart pounds. He stands there seething, glaring at his father, everyone staring, daring for him to do something before he turns on his heel.

You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold yourself together. The sting in your chest is undeniable. Disappointment wells up, as Beomgyu's actions fill the silence you can’t bear to break, your gaze fixed anywhere but the head table. Soobin’s hand suddenly moves into your line of sight, prying yours apart gently—stopping you from further tormenting your hands. His fingers curl around yours, tight.

Beomgyu's retreating footsteps echo, each one louder than the last, leaving a charged silence in their wake.

The next time you see him is on your wedding day.

You didn’t think it would happen like this. You truly didn’t. You’d clung to the faint hope that he’d at least show up before the ceremony—just once. You went to the fittings alone, picked out the rings by yourself, and stood in bakeries surrounded by couples, as you chose the cake flavour on your own. A conversation, even a brief one, might have eased the unease that had settled in your chest like a stone.

Maybe, when the time comes, you’ll work up the courage to ask him if he can at least try to be casual with you.

But every assurance came from his parents—empty promises that fell on ears too tired to process anymore. Your parents clung to those words, desperate for this union. A necessary marriage, they said. A solution.

None of it reassured you. How could it, when the groom himself was nowhere to be found? You never saw him. It was as though you were preparing to marry a ghost.

When he finally sees you, it’s as you walk down the aisle, dressed in a gown that feels heavier than it should. His gaze lands on you, a one-second glance that’s gone before you can even register it. He doesn’t look at you again. Not during the vows, not during the ceremony, not even as you both stand side by side, bound by words you barely believe.

And now, instead of his arms around you, you find yourself sobbing into your brother’s shoulder. Soobin holds you tightly. The irony was funny—it was Soobin, the whole reason to why Beomgyu was introduced to you all those years ago.

Beomgyu, the boy who returned you safely to your brother that night, the one who left a permanent mark so indelible it stayed for years. The same mark that now hurts you, refusing to fade no matter how many years passed.

It's cruel.

Happy 26th birthday baby girl! xoxo

You smiled faintly at Ryujin's text as you stirred the pancake batter you'd made from scratch. The comforting smell of vanilla and butter filled the kitchen—your kitchen.

As much as you endured your parents' endless whims, you had to admit, you loved the simplicity of domesticity. There was something grounding about it. It made you feel useful, capable—like you could create something perfect, even in a life that often felt far from it.

"Y/N." The sound of your name broke your focus. You looked up, catching Beomgyu standing at the doorway. He was already dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, his fingers fiddling with the knot of his tie. "I'm heading to the office early today,"

"Again?" Your voice was softer than you'd intended. "At least have breakfast before you go. I can finish this quickly."

"Thank you," he dismissed, gaze shifting away. Avoiding yours. Reminding you the line that's stretched between you cannot ever cross. "But I'll eat at the office. I don't want to be late. I might be back for dinner later. Maybe."

He adjusted his tie one last time, nodded in your direction, and walked out without another word. The soft click of it closing behind him felt louder than it should have.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. It was fine. You were used to this. Not because he left early again, but because it was an important day for you. A day you’d spend, once again, without him. Another day spent in the quiet of this too-big penthouse, with no one but yourself for company.

Two years into your marriage, you had learned to temper your expectations. Love was never meant to be part of the deal, and you had told yourself, over and over, that you didn’t need it. But no amount of reason could stop your heart from aching, from yearning—for Beomgyu to see you. Not as a piece of some agreement or a cog in the machinery of alliances, but as a person. As you.

Maybe even as a friend.

He wasn’t unkind. Not once had he raised his voice or shown you disrespect. But in some ways, his indifference stung more. He was here, yet not here—like a shadow that lived in the same space but never touched yours.

And sometimes, you wished that he would be mean to you, he would shout at you or he would hurt you—at least then, there would be something to feel. You hate that you gave him power over yourself.

You told your mother about it—you never saw your parents love each other, not in a way that felt real, not in front of you. She offered one thing that made sense to you.

Someday, you'll have children, and your child will give you a new purpose. You wanted to push back, to argue, but the next words stopped you cold—“Because if being an invisible wife isn’t enough, your children will see you.” You didn’t want to bring a child into this—into a life painted in shades of grey. An innocent child shouldn’t have to bear it. A child born not out of love? The thought made your chest tighten.

And yet, in the darkest, most desperate corners of your mind, another voice whispered something wicked. A voice that insisted maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

You sighed, finding the courage to pick up the spoon to eat, imagining a child sitting across from you, soft brown eyes mirroring his.

Alone, but somehow, it felt a little less lonely.

"Boss, there's a party later. It's Mr. Yoon's farewell dinner."

Beomgyu glanced up from his laptop, his secretary’s voice pulling him from the post-meeting haze. Mr. Yoon—one of his father’s most loyal employees, someone who had been with the company for years. Letting this occasion go unnoticed wasn’t an option, not for someone like him.

Later that evening, Beomgyu arrived at the resto-bar, the space already alive with the hum of laughter and conversation. As soon as he stepped inside, heads turned. Employees greeted him with a mix of respect and warmth, but his smile, though polite, didn’t reach his eyes. It was business, like always. When someone announced that the night’s tab was on him, a wave of cheers erupted, but Beomgyu barely reacted. He offered only a nod before grabbing a beer and retreating into his thoughts. Are you asleep—

"Omg, Beomgyu?"

The familiar voice jolted him. He turned his head sharply, and there she was—Ji-won. Her platinum blonde bleached hair gleamed under the bar lights, her lips curved into a playful smile. She looked almost the same, except more polished. She hadn’t changed much, down to the way her manicured fingers grazed her cheek as she tucked her hair behind her ears.

"It's you! I haven't seen you in what, two years? Almost?" she said, her tone bright, her lashes fluttering in the way she knew he once liked.

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied curtly, his voice neutral. "Nice to see you here." He grabbed his beer and took a long sip. Her laugh rang out, light and infectious, the same laugh that used to feel like heaven to him. She knew exactly what to do, exactly how to pull him in.

Beomgyu raised his beer and took a long sip again, letting the alcohol burn its way down. He probably should go now. Her friends surrounded them, teasing and nudging, playful comments flying back and forth. He stayed composed, answering in clipped sentences, trying to keep his distance. He just needs to find the time to excuse himself.

But at some point, her friends drifted away, leaving her behind—drunk and alone, leaning heavily against the table. Beomgyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could have left her there. Maybe he should have. But instead, he found himself walking over.

"Come on," he said quietly, offering his hand. "Let me take you home."

She looked up at him, her eyes glassy but soft, and smiled. It was a smile that used to mean so much more.

Her warm hands envelop his.

The drive to her address was heavy with silence. Ji-won kept glancing at him, her eyes longing, but Beomgyu stayed focused on the road. Her address glowed faintly from his phone’s GPS. When they arrived, he got out, rounding the car to help her. She wobbled slightly, her drunken state evident, but he steadied her without a word and walked her to her door. She didn’t let go of his arm.

As they reached her doorstep, she turned to him, her voice trembling, raw. “Did you forget all about me already?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly. “Because… because I haven’t. It's still you, Beomgyu. I still love you.”

The words stopped him cold. He looked at her then—really looked at her. The faint blush on her cheeks, the way her hair fell messily over her shoulders, and that familiar scent of her perfume. Memories flashed. The way she’d cried when he said goodbye. The way she’d begged him to stay, her arms wrapped around him like she could keep him forever. He remembered the way he had talked to his father—looking for any chance. Only to be met with a no. A hard, unrelenting no.

It was too much. She's too familiar. He's too close.

And then, she leaned in.

Her lips touched his, soft just like they used to be. He shouldn’t. But when the small of her hands gripped the lapels of his suit, pulling him closer, he kissed her back.

It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, messy, like trying to reclaim something lost. Her body pressed against his, and the sound of her soft moan made him grip her arms. He presses her against the door. Her hands tried to open the front door for them to go inside. It felt like a reunion, a fleeting taste of something they weren’t supposed to have.

But then she whispered against his lips, “Do you think we’d be married now if your father hadn’t stopped us?”

The word married—hit him, made him open his eyes, freezing in place.

He pulled away, his breath ragged, staring at her. His lips still burned with the sin of hers. What the hell was he doing?

Ji-won stared at him, her expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “Beomgyu—” she started, but he shook his head, taking another step back.

“I… I can’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Without waiting for her response, he turned and walked away, his steps hurried and uneven. She reached for him—called his name, voice crying, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

All he could see was your face.

At home. Waiting for him. Leaning to the countertop with your stupidly sweet unnecessary smile. The crinkle by your eyes. It flashes over and over, drowning out everyone, and everything else.

Beomgyu gets into his car, his hands trembling as he fumbles with the keys. The engine roars to life with an urgency that matches his racing thoughts.

His grip tightens on the wheel as the image of Ji-won flashes in his mind. Her words. Her touch. The kiss. His stomach churns. What the hell was he thinking? Did he still love her?

The elevator ride to your floor feels agonizingly slow, every second stretching endlessly. He can barely hear his own breathing over the pounding of his heart. When the doors open, he steps out hesitantly, his footsteps dragging as he approaches the front door.

He pauses in the entryway, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

He sees you.

You're curled up on the couch, your head resting on a pillow, a blanket draped loosely over your legs. His eyes dart on the kitchen, there sits a plate of untouched food, now cold. Dinner.

His chest tightens. You waited for him. Despite everything—despite the fact that he’d made no promises, despite the countless nights like this—you still waited.

How? he thinks, his mind reeling. How could you wait for him, when he hadn't given you anything to hold on to?

He glances at the clock on the wall. 6 a.m. His jaw clenches. He hadn’t even noticed the time had passed. He’d been so caught up at the party, so lost in the haze of old memories and poor decisions, that he’d forgotten about you entirely.

He steps closer, his gaze softening as it falls on your face. You look peaceful, your breathing even, your features illuminated by the dim light filtering in from the window. There’s something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.

The urge to reach out, to touch you, is overwhelming. But as his eyes fall to your lips, a shameful reminder washes over him—he knows that his lips had been with someone else only minutes ago.

It would be cruel to let it stain the divine of your skin.

“Come here,” Beomgyu spoke, which made you look at him through the mirror for a couple of seconds before seeing him beckon you over. You walked towards him, about to sit on the edge of the bed, when he grabbed your arm and sat you between his thighs.

“What is it?” you asked softly. You felt his arms tighten slightly around you, his fingers brushing the fabric of your robe. He hadn’t spoken to you all day, hadn’t so much as looked at you too. You just got out of your shower when you saw him sitting in your bed. And now, here he was—unexpected, yet demanding this closeness.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his lips pressed against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his breath, warm against your skin. His hand slid slowly from your waist to your side, tracing the outline of your frame. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. You knew what this was. What he wanted. What he was about to do.

This was the pattern you had grown to recognise. The times he came to you like this, seeking the comfort your body could offer. The way his touch made you feel seen. And when morning came, like always, he would retreat—pulling away, storms behind his eye, leaving you to wrestle with the hollow ache in your chest.

Nights like this made it hurt more.

“Nothing.” He says. You felt his hand caress your thigh as he kisses your shoulder. He turns you around. He licked his lips before letting it explore the inside of your mouth, making you moan. He grunts in your mouth as his hand snakes to the inside of your thighs, kneading the soft flesh.

He pushes his clothed crotch to your heat. He removes the top part of your robe, his lips easily finding themselves on your nipple, kissing around it before hungrily latching his mouth on it. The feeling of his wet tongue circling your bead and the growing tent on his pants rubbing on you made your body heat up.

You should push him away.

But then he looked up into your eyes, almost begging. It's soft, glassy which makes you wonder if you're ever going to see it other than like this. At that moment, the truth hit you: this was all he could offer. This collision, the press of his skin against yours—this was all you’d ever have of him. The pain intensified. He goes up and captures your lips again.

“I want to be inside you,” he murmured against your kisses. Fine, you thought. Just this once more—one last time. You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back gently, turned around and got on all fours. You arched your back, pressing your head onto the mattress. Your ass was in the air, and you were exposed to him. Hearing him move behind you made you close your eyes.

Beomgyu was shocked. For you to offer yourself like this, so quickly, caught him off guard. He blinked, taking in the curve of your back, and the way you presented yourself.

You felt his tip rub against your folds and swollen clit, making you whine. He pulled your legs farther apart before plunging two fingers to make sure you were ready to take him.

You moaned, feeling his long fingers massage your walls. Your wetness trickled on his hand, and it only made him harder. He sucked his fingers when he pulled out. You felt every inch, his cock reaching places that made your body arch instinctively beneath.

It burns, and it burns so good.

“You're always fucking tight.” He kneads your ass cheeks, thrusting slowly at first before gradually increasing in speed. You felt so full as he pushed into you. He reached for your clit as you buried your face into the pillow. “Y/N…” His hard cock reaches the deepest parts of you. Beomgyu flipped your body without warning, and your arm immediately flew to your face. You turned your face away from him, not knowing that he’s been observing you.

You’ve been hiding your face the whole time as much as you can. Seeing his eyes felt unbearable. Because meeting his eyes will make you want him. To want him more than this. Something he will never be able to give.

“Y/N…I want to see your face.” He grabbed your hand to move them away, and Beomgyu felt a pang in his chest when he saw your swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You were sobbing underneath him.

“Please…” Your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Just make me cum. Okay?”

You were breaking your own heart, chasing his own. And as he stared down at you, his indifference, the wall he’d built so carefully around himself, was killing you.

“What's wrong?” He urges you. His thrusts are unceasing as tears continue to fall down from your eyes. “Y/N…” Your orgasm hits you hard. Your toes curled as you cried out his name. Your walls were squeezing his cock. He grunts at how tight you feel around him. His hands were gripping the back of your knees as his hips stuttered, about to reach his own climax.

Even as he continued to move, his pace sloppy and desperate, your quiet sobs filled the room, uncontrollable. Beomgyu stilled above you, his heart twisting painfully at the sound. He hated himself—hated the way he’d reduced you to this.

You feel his hot cum inside you. When he finally pulled away, he collapsed beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. His unsure eyes drifted to you, curled up in the blankets, your shoulders shaking as you tried to stifle your cries. You moved your whole body under the sheets, clung to the fabric like it was the only thing holding you together.

Hiding. Hiding from the one who was supposed to be your other half.

The sight of you like this made his throat tighten, his chest heavy with something he couldn’t put into words. He had never wanted to hurt you, yet here you were.

That night, Beomgyu lay unable to find sleep, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of your bedroom walls. You were an angel, one he had broken with his own hands.

You wake up, heart racing.

Your hands instinctively move to your face. It’s that dream again. The same one that’s haunted you night after night. The memory of him. That night. The last time Beomgyu touched you. It’s been just over four weeks.

Even in sleep, he doesn’t let you go.

You blinked, your surroundings blurry in the faint light of your room. How did you get here? You were sure you’d fallen asleep on the couch. The question barely settles before an uneasy twist in your stomach pulls you back to the present. A wave of nausea rushes through you, sharp and sudden.

Your hand flies to your mouth as you scramble out of bed, your legs barely keeping up as you dart to the bathroom. You made it just in time, collapsing onto your knees as your body seized itself forward. The bitter taste burned your throat, each heave leaving you weaker than the last. You sat there, gripping the cool edge of the toilet, tears slipping silently down your cheeks.

You pushed yourself up, legs still shaky, and made your way to the sink. The cold water was a welcome distraction, splashing against your skin and dripping down in rivulets. You scrubbed at your face harder than you needed to, as if the water could somehow rinse away more than just the sweat clinging to your skin.

Grabbing a towel, you patted your face dry, letting your gaze drift to the untouched box of tampons sitting quietly on the shelf.

“Y/N?” The knock on your door startled you. Tossing the towel aside, you stepped out of the small bathroom and crossed the room to open the door.

There he stood, his dark eyes locking onto yours the second the door opened. He scanned your face. “Are… are you okay? I heard a loud thump.” His voice was uneven, like he wasn’t sure he should even be asking.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly. You moved to step past him, but the moment you did, he took a cautious step back, his body shifting as though he couldn’t bear to be too close.

It stung, but you didn’t let it show. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No,” he replies, eyes darting to the vases on the table. “You got flowers?” Beomgyu’s stares on your face. The way your face softens at the mention of them—he notices it instantly. He doesn’t like it—not one bit.

“They were given to me.”

“Two dozen?” he presses, “By who?”

“Soobin,”

“And?” he asks again, though there’s no need. He already knows who.

“Yeonjun,” The name lands heavy between you.

His jaw tightens. “He dropped them off here yesterday? Why did—” His words tumble out quickly, too quickly.

Because it's your birthday.

“He was with Soobin, Beomgyu,” you interrupt, brushing past him toward the refrigerator. Your steps feel heavier than they should Blinking, you try to push the swelling emotions back down. Normally, you’d brush this off. So why does it feel so different today? Why are you getting emotional? You pull out a bottle of water, taking a long sip to steady yourself before asking, “What time did you come home yesterday?”

Silence.

You drink slowly, giving him time to answer, but he doesn’t. The room feels stifling in the stillness, the hum of the refrigerator suddenly too loud. You set your empty glass on the table with a dull thud, your eyes drifting back to him.

He’s standing there in his usual morning look—white shirt hanging loose, black pyjama pants slightly wrinkled. His hair is a mess from sleep, and his skin looks paler in the soft light. There’s something about how vulnerable he looks in the mornings that always catches you off guard.

He's painfully beautiful.

“Around the morning,” He's hesitant. He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t meet your eyes, and the tightness in your chest only grows. There’s an ugly nagging feeling at the edges of your thoughts.

“I’ll go get ready for work,” he says, shutting the conversation before it even has a chance to go further.

It doesn't surprise you anymore.

You step into the opulent glow of the five-star Skyline Restaurant, the clink of fine china and hushed laughter swirled around. Fingers gripping your white Dior purse, you scan the room, heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Your eyes sweep over faces until a familiar one stops you in your tracks.

“Pretty girl.” Ryujin’s voice called out, smooth and warm. She raises a hand in a poised wave, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. You mirror her expression, weaving your way toward her. Heads turn as you pass, your perfume—delicate yet potent.

“How are you?” she asks as you reach her, gaze soft yet probing.

“I’m okay,” you reply, sinking into the plush couch across from her. The tension in your shoulders eases, if only slightly. “Thank you for the gifts, by the way. And I’m sorry I couldn’t meet up with you yesterday, like you wanted.”

“I understand.” Her reply is casual, but her eyes betray her. They flicker to the dark crescents under yours, the ones you’ve tried to conceal but can never quite hide. “It’s always him, isn’t it? At the end of the day.”

Your fingers wrap around the porcelain cup in front of you. The tea is hot against your palms, and you take a tentative sip. It tasted faintly of jasmine, soothing and bittersweet. The silence between you stretches.

“Y/N.” Her voice pulls you back, insistent. Your eyes meet hers, and for a moment, you can’t look away. “He’s the reason you’re like this. It doesn't have to be, but he made it this way. You see that, don’t you?”

"I know."

Ryujin’s eyes flickered with hesitation, the way someone falters before delivering a blow. Eyes darting between you and the untouched tea in front of her. “I don’t want you to get hurt,” she began, her voice soft but unsteady. “But I… I heard something.”

Her words made your heart clench. “What is it?”

“I mean, I’m not completely sure, but it came from someone I trust and—”

“Ryujin,” you snapped, sharper than you intended. Your chest tightened as dread crept in. “Tell me.”

She hesitated, her lips parting slightly before closing again. “Did he spend the night with you yesterday?”

You felt the world shift under your feet. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Your silence was enough.

He wasn't.

Ryujin’s expression softened, pity creeping into her features, “I—there was a party,” she said, her voice quieter now, hesitant. “One with Beomgyu and Ji-won.”

The name made your stomach drop.

“They were together all night,” she said, her words rushed, like she wanted to get them out before she lost her nerve. “And someone… someone saw them. Beomgyu practically carried her into his car. They left together.”

Your vision blurred for a second, the edges of the room fading as her words registered. You forced yourself to blink, to breathe. “Oh,” you whispered.

Ryujin stood abruptly and moved to sit beside you, taking your trembling hands into hers. “Confront him,” she urged. “Find out if it’s true.” She squeezed your hands. “I’m so tired of seeing you like this. Always giving and giving while he takes whatever’s left of you.” Her voice cracked. “Loving him silently. Loving him so hard isn’t going to make him love you back.”

You didn’t even realise you were crying until the tears started dripping onto your lap, soaking into the fabric of your dress. Ryujin hated it. She remembered you in college—how you laughed so freely, how your eyes sparkled. But now, that light she admired so much was dimming, as if someone had reached inside you and quietly stolen it piece by piece.

Ryujin swallowed hard, blinking back her own tears as she watched yours fall. How hurt must you be to cry like this—without a sound, without even a gasp? Just the quiet, stream of tears slipping down your face, carving paths of pain?

She hated seeing you like this—hated how one person had managed to turn the full-bloomed, radiant version of you into a shadow of yourself, a bud closed off to the world. That someone can easily break you, when you spent years building yourself.

You're waiting.

It's 10 p.m. The hours have crawled by since you drove back here. You look around. This space, where you are supposed to build a family, where love is supposed to be—is nothing but a cold place to you.

You're sitting on the couch, the same couch you’ve spent countless nights on, staring at the clock, waiting for him. Your hands rest in your lap, trembling slightly, though you don’t realise it. With nothing but fear, the fear that you’re losing something you never truly had.

Your phone buzzes again. Two names alternate, calling over and over. You don’t pick up. You don’t even look. You can’t.

Because the truth is, you don’t know if you’ll make it through the night without hearing from him. Your husband.

The elevator dings softly, and Beomgyu steps into the penthouse. His tie hangs loose around his neck, his hair tousled and far from his usual pristine self. He looks tired, distracted—like he’s been anywhere but here. His eyes met yours.

"Why are you still awake—"

"Do you think I don’t know what you’ve done?" Your voice cuts, trembling. You see his eyes widen, just a fraction. It’s so small you almost missed it.

"Ji-won." Her name burns as it leaves your mouth, bitter. His eyes flicker toward you for just a second—a split second, just long enough to know that he heard—but there is nothing in them. Nothing.

He moves with calculated slowness, setting his bag down on the table, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. Time ticked. He doesn’t even try to explain. Doesn’t even look at you long enough for you to find a trace of the man you once thought you knew. His thumb brushes over his ring like it’s something he’s forgotten. A ring that should have meant forever.

"I can handle it all, Choi Beomgyu," you say, your voice firmer now, though your hands tremble at your sides. "I’ve handled it all, haven’t I? I didn’t say anything when you kept talking about her—days after we got married—on our honeymoon, or right in front of your family."

His back stiffens, his hands gripping the edge of the countertop. Beomgyu swallows the lump in his throat.

"Not once in these two years did I tell you how small you made me feel, how you made me feel like I didn’t belong in your world. Like I was a stranger in my own marriage." Your voice cracks, but you keep going. "I stayed silent, And after all of that—after everything—I stayed. I stayed because I thought… maybe it was enough. And yet, you still chose to cheat on me?"

You’re shaking now, and your voice rises despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "If you had just come to me and said you didn’t want this anymore, I would’ve let you go. I would’ve walked away, Beomgyu. Because everything I’ve done—every single thing—has been for you. For this marriage. For our families."

His head finally lifts, and his eyes meet yours. You hate how you feel small under his gaze, how his silence feels like a condemnation of your own vulnerability.

Beomgyu swallows hard, his jaw tightening. "That’s not what happened, Y/N."

"That you didn’t go home with her? That you weren’t with her on my fucking birthday?"

Your words hit him like a punch, and his eyes widen, the crack in his composure visible now.

"What?"

"You heard me." The burden festering inside you for so long is finally out. It feels small, inadequate even, but you don’t care anymore. You can’t. You can feel his eyes on you, and it's your turn to refuse to meet them. You’re done searching his face for answers that will never come.

You rise from the couch, your movements sharp, fueled by hurt and exhaustion. Steps are quick, your breaths are shallow as you reach your room. The door slams shut behind you with a force that echoes behind. Your hands tremble as you swipe on your phone. Tears blur your vision, falling onto the screen as you scroll, fingers fumbling to find the number you need.

You don’t think. You can’t. The tears are hot and relentless, burning tracks down your cheeks as you press the call button.

The line clicks immediately.

Outside your room, Beomgyu stands in the hallway, pacing back and forth. His footsteps are uneven, restless. The truth is, he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know where to begin. Every time he tries to form the words in his head, they fall apart before they can leave his lips.

How can he explain it? How can he make you understand? He never thought it would come to this—never thought he’d have to say it out loud. He’d always believed he could keep it buried, that you’d never find out.

He presses a hand to his forehead, exhaling sharply. He hasn’t spoken to Ji-won since that night. Not once. She tried to reach out—texts, calls, even showing up unannounced—but he shut it all down. He shut her out.

The irony isn’t lost on him. He, who once was hopelessly in love with her had turned his back on her entirely. What surprised him the most was how easy it was. All it took was thinking of you.

And the sight of your tears now terrifies him.

Beomgyu has always been a confident man. He was raised to be one. It’s who he was taught to be—the man who could command a room, close deals, deliver speeches without a stutter. But none of that matters now. Standing here, in front of your door, he feels small. Helpless. Negotiating with the world is one thing; facing the pain in your eyes is another.

He sighs, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration. His chest feels tight, his mind racing. He should knock. He knows he should try—should say something, anything.

He lifts his hand to knock, but the door swings open before he can. Your eyes meet his—red, swollen, glassy with unshed tears—and it feels like the air is knocked out of him. Beomgyu's chest tightens painfully, and then his gaze falls to the suitcase in your hand,"Where are you going?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you step past him, avoiding even the smallest brush against him. The sound of your suitcase wheels echoes in the hall. His heart stutters, his feet frozen in place.

"Y/N," he pleads, reaching for your wrist. His eyes flicker down to your hand, and the absence of your ring feels like a blow he wasn’t ready for.

"Beomgyu," you say quietly, pulling your hand away from his grasp."I’m going to stay with my brother for a while."

You don’t wait for his response. You can’t. If you stop now—if you meet his eyes again—you might change your mind. You walk toward the elevator, heart pounding, and breaking, but you don’t look back. When he doesn’t follow, when he doesn’t try to stop you, it cracks a little more.

The elevator doors begin to close, you think that’s it.This is the end. But then, his hand darts between the doors, forcing them open. You glance up in surprise. You've never seen him this unsure, or nervous before.

"At least let me see you out," he says softly. "Please,"

He stares at you. You nod, stepping aside to make room for him. Neither of you speaks, and the distance between you feels impossibly wide, even in the small space.

"Call me if you ever want to talk again," he finally breaks the silence, eyes fixed on the ground, "I’ll wait for you," You don’t respond, your throat tightening as you stare straight ahead, willing yourself not to cry.

Perhaps, it is his turn to wait for you.

It’s the longest elevator ride of your life.

In the parking lot, your brother is the first thing you see—tall and imposing, his glasses doing nothing to soften the sharp frown etched across his face. His eyes sweep over you, landing on the suitcase in your hand before darting behind you. The worry darkens instantly into anger when he sees Beomgyu trailing a few steps behind.

"You fucker," Soobin spits, brushing past you to square off with him. His voice is cold and furious. Beomgyu doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, even as your brother towers over him.

"I gave you the benefit of the doubt," Soobin growls. "I thought, at the very least, you’d treat my sister with the respect she deserves. But you—"

"Soobin, stop!" You step forward, your hands desperately reaching out to hold your brother’s fists clenched at his sides. "Please, let’s just go."

He hesitates, jaw tightening as he swallows his anger. With a final, scathing glare at Beomgyu, Soobin turns away. He reached for your suitcase, grabbed it without a word and shoved it into the trunk of his car. Then he opens the passenger door, his expression softening ever so slightly as he looks at you. "Get inside."

You slide into the car, your hands trembling as you clutch them in your lap. Soobin slams the door shut behind you, the sound shouting in the empty parking lot like a final warning.

Beomgyu stands there eyes never leaving your form, unmoving, as the car engine roars to life. His chest feels like it’s caving in as he watches Soobin pull away, the tyres screeching against the pavement. It’s almost insulting, the way the sound seems to echo his own turmoil.

His eyes follow the car until it vanishes from sight, leaving nothing but silence and the crushing weight of knowing you’re gone.

Beomgyu steps back, dragging his feet to somehow delay the reality settling in around him. Every few steps, he glances over his shoulder, the faintest flicker of hope burning in his chest. Maybe you’d be there. Maybe you’d come back.

Maybe this was just a nightmare he hadn’t woken up from yet.

But you didn't.

The elevator doors slide open, and he strides inside, his mind blank and racing all at once. He walks, heading straight to the kitchen for water—something to soothe the dryness in his throat, the tightness in his chest. But as he passes the living room, his eyes catch on the portrait hanging above the mantel.

The wedding photo.

It hangs on there, just as it always has, but tonight it feels unbearable. His eyes lock on your face, and he falters. How could he have missed it? The slight redness in your eyes, the way your smile looks stretched too thin. How can a bride look so unhappy? How did it take him this long to realise how beautiful you looked that day—despite everything? How could he have failed to tell you?

How could he have been so blind?

He wasn’t the only one hurting that day. You had to stand there, dressed in white, while he grieved for someone else. On the day that was supposed to be yours, his mind had been somewhere else, tangled in memories of a woman who wasn’t you. And he never talked to you about it—not once. He never told you what you needed to hear. That it wasn’t your fault. That none of it was your fault.

He blinks hard, his vision blurring. The cracks were always there, weren’t they? Small at first, almost invisible, but they spread, creeping through everything until you were barely holding on. And he didn’t see it. He didn’t see you. Now, he stares at the picture like it might give him some kind of answer, some kind of clue to undo it all, but all it does is make the ache in his chest grow sharper.

He wished he had known. He wished he had known that the hurt consuming him would fade. He wished he could’ve said it all sooner, when the chance was still there. To tell you the truth. That he indeed had kissed her. That it was a mistake. He should have fallen to his knees and begged you to forgive him.

Would it have made a difference? Could one moment of honesty, one action, one choice have been enough to hold you here, to make you stay?

"Fuck," His voice was unsteady, tears stinging his eyes—tears he didn’t even know he was capable of. He can’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe he never has. He never cried. His hand moves on instinct, reaching for the cabinet, but instead of a glass, his fingers close around the neck of the whisky bottle. Water won’t cut it tonight. He twists the cap off, letting it fall to the counter with a hollow clink, and takes a long, burning sip.

It doesn't dull anything. Not yet. So he drinks.

It’s only been an hour—barely even that—since you left, but it feels like his world is already collapsing.

You wake up groggy, your head spinning and eyes feeling heavy. You can’t remember when you fell asleep or even how. You shift on the bed—Soobin must have carried you here.

Right. You’re at his place now.

"Y/N, you awake?" your brother’s voice carries down the hall, accompanied by the mouthwatering smell of bacon. Your stomach growls unexpectedly. You drag yourself out of bed, splash water on your face in the bathroom, and head out of the room.

“Good morning,” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen. The sight of Soobin setting down a plate of pancakes and Yeonjun grinning at you makes your chest feel warm.

Yeonjun stands and strides over, wrapping you in a tight hug. His hugs are always the warmest. He’s your brother’s best friend, someone who’s been in your life long enough to feel like family. He's known you since you were children, and you see him as your own brother.

He rests his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to the table as the corners of your lips tug into a soft smile you can’t seem to hold back. You sit down, and Soobin begins piling food onto your plate.

"Do you have any plans today?" Soobin asks casually, his focus still on divvying up breakfast.

“None, really,” you reply, your attention entirely on the bacon in front of you. Your stomach practically growls in anticipation, and without waiting, you dig in.

A little too eagerly, apparently. You choke, coughing as you try to swallow too quickly.

Yeonjun’s reaction is immediate—he’s already filling a glass of water before you even finish coughing. He places it in front of you and grabs a few napkins, sliding them your way with a concerned look. “Slow down, Y/N,” he says, his tone gentle but firm.

“Sorry,” you croak out, taking a sip of water to soothe your throat.

Last night, when you arrived, your brother didn’t ask for explanations. He didn’t push, didn’t pry. Instead, he pulled you into a hug, letting you collapse into him, tears soaking into his shirt as you broke down.

You heard him curse, his voice tight with restrained anger, but he didn’t say anything else. He just let you cry. His hands rested firmly on your back.

He didn’t ask because he knew. He knew that words wouldn’t help—not now. And maybe, he was afraid that asking would only deepen the pain already spreading through you.

It’s the reason Soobin hasn’t married yet. He’s had plenty of offers—proposals that would benefit his business, alliances that would make sense on paper. But none of it feels right. Not when he knows what you’ve endured.

He can't forget the look on your face on the day of your wedding. He keeps his distance, telling himself he has no right to fall in love or build a life of his own. How could he, knowing the choice was never yours? How could he allow himself to stand in the light of his own happiness, knowing it would only cast a longer shadow over you?

It would be unfair. Unfair to chase his own happiness.

He’s afraid. Afraid that loving someone, finding joy in his own marriage, would feel like betrayal or it would mean abandoning you to face your burdens alone.

"How are you?" Yeonjun asks, his gaze lingering on the dark circles under your eyes. His frown deepens.

"I'm… better," you say, the words catching in your throat as you force them out. It’s a lie, and you both know it. You’re far from better. Not when the image of Beomgyu standing in the parking lot, staring at you as you left, keeps haunting you. He looked… You shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You can’t go there—not now.

“There’s a party this weekend,” Yeonjun says, trying to sound lighthearted as he takes a bite of his food. “Some kind of school reunion. I think it’s three batches combined. You should come with us.”

"Yeah," you mumble, poking at your plate. "Ryu-jin’s been bugging me about it. Since Jakey won’t be able to make it—he’s overseas right now."

But the words falter on your lips as the thought you’ve been trying to avoid pushes its way forward. You don’t have to say it out loud; it’s already there, written on your face. Beomgyu. He might be there.

"He won’t be," Soobin says firmly, it's almost as if he read your thoughts. "I made sure of it. And if, by some chance, he shows up, I’ll stick by your side all night."

Your eyes flick over to Yeonjun, and he gives you a slight nod, his expression softening. "I’ll be there too,"

The days pass in a haze, each one blurring into the next, but this time, you’re not navigating them by yourself. You lean on your brother more than you ever thought you would, and somehow, he never seems to mind.

Soobin, who skips work without a second thought, pulling you out of the house when he sees you sinking too deep into yourself. He drags you to museums, to quiet cafés, or even just for drives with no destination.

And then there’s Yeonjun. No matter how busy his life is, he keeps... showing up. When Soobin’s tied up, Yeonjun is there, knocking on your door with his humor pulling reluctant smiles from you when you least expect it.

It’s not perfect—it’s still hard. Some days, you still lock your doors and don't come out no matter how many times they knock. There are days you don't even utter a single word. But they’re there, both of them, holding you up when you can’t do it yourself.

For the first time in two years, you don't feel alone.

“He’s not on the list, don’t worry,” Ryu-jin’s voice crackles through the speaker of your phone. You grip the steering wheel a little tighter, your eyes fixed on the road ahead. Soobin’s car leads in the lane in front of you.

"It's fine," you say, "It's not like I'm going for him, anyway."

"Okay. See you there," Ryu-jin replies before hanging up. You swallow hard, trying to push down yet another nausea rising in your throat. You focus on the road.

When you arrive, you walk alongside Soobin toward the entrance. Heads turn, whispers ripple through the crowd. The two of you—the university’s so-called power siblings—command attention without even trying. People smile, greet you, and their eyes linger on your Dior dress, but you barely notice.

“You’re finally here,” Yeonjun’s familiar voice calls out as he approaches, his warm smile cutting the tension in your chest. He grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer. “I’m glad you came,” he says softly, his eyes holding yours before focusing on Soobin.

"You're early." Soobin exchanges a quick greeting with him, heading off briefly to grab drinks for the three of you.

“Y/N!” Ryu-jin throws her arms around you, grinning as her eyes sweep over you. “Why do you always have to look this good?” she teases playfully. You laugh softly, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise heavy evening. The four of you settle at a table, waiting for the event to begin.

The night feels… okay. Not great, not life-changing, but okay. A simple glimpse of normalcy.

The week leading up to tonight lingers in your mind. Beomgyu’s messages. The flowers left at Soobin’s door. The missed calls that filled your screen, each one a reminder of everything you’ve been trying to forget.

You ignored them all. You had to.

Even now, standing here among friends, the memories creep in when you least expect them. Every time you close your eyes, you see them. You see her. And you see him.

And all the things that could’ve happened between them.

No matter how hard you try, the ghosts cling to you, refusing to let go.

You scrub your hands under the cold stream of water, the scent of soap mingling with the sterile air. The sound of the bathroom door creaking open doesn’t register at first—not until you hear her voice.

“Hi, Y/N.” You freeze, your stomach twisting before you even turn around. Through the mirror, her face appears behind you—Ji-won. The last person you wanted to see.

“What do you want?” Your reflection betrays the tension in your jaw. Your stomach twists violently. You don’t want to do this. Not here. Not now.

“Look, I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. About what happened between you and Beomgyu.” Her words falter, her tone weak, as if that soft voice could somehow soften the blow. “I—I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she continues, “It just… it just happened. We didn’t mean it.”

You know what hurts more than being cheated on? It’s the sickening realization that the person they chose is better than you in every way. Prettier. Maybe even smarter. More… everything.

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to speak, “Stop, Ji-won.” You glance at her through the mirror, your chest tightening painfully. “I get it. I can see why.”

She looks startled, her brows drawing together. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. I know you know we had… unfinished business—”

“Unfinished business?” You spin around to face her, and the words tumble out before you can stop them, “With someone else’s husband?”

“That’s why I came to apologize,”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head as your chest burns with a mixture of anger and pain. “Well, I don’t need it. Did you expect me to hug you?” You let out another laugh, this one harsher.

“Congratulations, I guess.” You step closer, each word laced with venom. “But don’t you ever come near me again. If you do, I’ll press charges. It will be really ugly. Do you understand?”

Ji-won nods stiffly, her expression crumbling under the weight of your stare. Without another glance, you turn on your heel and walk out of the bathroom, your steps hurried, the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

By the time you’re in the hallway, your breath is coming in short gasps. Your chest feels tight, constricted, like you’re drowning in your own emotions. You press a hand to your chest, forcing yourself to keep walking, but your vision blurs with unshed tears.

You can’t breathe.

The alcohol should’ve been enough. You thought it would drown everything out—the ache, the gnawing in your gut, the weight pressing down on your shoulders. But the pain is relentless, carving its way through you, burning and cold.

It starts in your chest, spreading like wildfire, suffocating your lungs, and crawling up your spine until it feels like you’re being pulled apart from the inside. It’s sharp, chaotic, like a bullet ricocheting through your body, tearing apart every fragile piece it touches.

You hear Ryu-jin’s voice calling your name, faint and distant, but you don’t turn around. You can’t. No. The crowd around you feels stifling, every laugh and every cheer scraping against your raw nerves. You’re barely holding it together, and you know that if you stay even a second longer, you’ll shatter in front of everyone.

You just need to go. To get away. Anywhere but here. Because right now, in the middle of this party, you feel like an open wound, with no place to hide.

“Where the hell did she go?” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath, panic creeping into her voice as she scanned the hallway outside the bathroom. She had only stepped away for a minute, grabbed what she needed, and when she came back—you were gone.

She storms back to the table, her heart racing. “Soobin, did you see Y/N?”

Soobin looked up immediately, concern flashing across his face. “She was with you, wasn’t she?”

“I lost her,” Ryu-jin admits, held up her phone, frustrated. “I’ve been trying to call, but her phone’s not connecting.” The worry on Soobin’s face mirrors her own, and for a moment, neither of them speaks.

“I’ll check outside,” Soobin says, already rising to his feet, his determination written all over his face. Yeonjun appears at the table just as Soobin leaves. “I’ll go with him.”

“Ryu-jin? Hey, long time no see.”

She turned to see Jay standing there, his familiar easygoing smile not quite registering in the chaos of her mind. “Jay,” she said, forcing a tight smile. “Hey. Yeah. Long time.”

Jay tilted his head. “Surprising. Where’s Choi’s golden girl? Isn’t she usually glued to your side?”

Ryu-jin hesitated, her smile faltering. “They… stepped out for a bit,” she lied, tone distracted.

Her gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when she saw her. Ji-won. Sitting with her group of friends, laughing, carefree, as if she hadn’t done enough damage already. The sight of her felt like a slap to the face. “The audacity…” Ryu-jin muttered under her breath.

Jay follows her line of sight, his eyebrows raising when he spots her. “That’s Ji-won, right?” he asks, his tone laced with something between curiosity and disdain. “The one who’s always been weirdly obsessed with Y/N?”

Ryu-jin’s head snapped toward him. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” Jay continues, shrugging, “back in college, she had this… thing. Like, she couldn’t stand it whenever someone said Y/N was pretty, which was often. It was kind of insane, honestly. Everyone knew Y/N was the prettiest girl back then, and Ji-won hated it. Like, visibly hated it.”

Ryu-jin chokes on her drink, coughing as she shakes her head in disbelief. Her fingers twitch with the urge to march over to Ji-won and give her a piece of her mind, but before she can act on the intrusive thought, Soobin reappears. His face is pale.

“She’s been in an accident,”

You got into an accident.

Beomgyu was sitting in his office when the call came. Everything around him blurred, the world spinning out of focus. It felt as if time had stopped for him, while the Earth kept spinning mercilessly. His body froze, but his mind was spiralling.

Y/N. Accident. The words replayed on a loop in his head, loud and cruel. He couldn't process them, couldn't let them sink in, because doing so would mean accepting that something terrible had happened to you.

You got into a car accident. Something terrible happened.

His throat tightened as he gripped the phone with trembling hands. "Wh-where… which hospital?" he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might shatter.

The answer came, muffled like it was coming from underwater. The call ended before he could fully react. The phone slipped from his hand onto the desk as he staggered to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him.

Somehow, he made it to his car, though he couldn’t remember how. His chest heaved. With shaking fingers, he dialled another number, desperate for more answers.

“Don’t bother coming here, Choi Beomgyu.” Soobin’s voice was sharp and breathless when he answered. It sounded strained, furious even, and it only made Beomgyu’s heart sink further.

“Is she okay?” Beomgyu whispered, his voice barely audible. The question felt like it would break him. His chest felt like it was caving in, the pain clawing at him as he braced himself for the answer. He bit down on his lip, hard enough to draw blood, his free hand digging into his hair as he fought to stay grounded.

“She’s…” Soobin’s voice faltered, and that hesitation was enough to send Beomgyu spiraling further. “They’re trying. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

It wasn’t enough. Those words, those pitiful attempts at reassurance, did nothing to quiet the storm raging inside him. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as panic surged through him. If Soobin couldn’t say you were okay, it meant you weren’t.

Beomgyu floored the gas pedal.

His mind raced as fast as the car, every thought more horrifying than the last. What if he was too late? What if he never got to see you again? His breath hitched at the thought. His hands gripped the wheel tighter, knuckles pale.

He had to see you. Alive. Breathing.

Anything less would destroy him.

Beomgyu bursts into the hospital, his heart pounding so loudly it drowns out the sterile beeping and muffled voices around him. He barely registers the nurse’s directions to your room. All he knows is that he has to see you. His feet carry him faster than his thoughts, and when he spots the door, he doesn’t expect the two familiar figures standing outside.

Ryu-jin sits on a chair, her face buried in her hands as her shoulders shake with sobs. Yeonjun is pacing, his expression tight with worry, his hands clenched into fists.

The moment Yeonjun sees Beomgyu, he stops dead in his tracks. His gaze hardens, sharp and unyielding, as he steps forward and blocks the door with his arm.

“She wouldn’t want to see you,” Yeonjun snaps, his voice low and venomous. “Get the fuck out of here, you piece of shit.”

Beomgyu freezes for half a second before anger flares in his chest, red-hot and uncontrollable. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he shouts, shoving Yeonjun hard enough to make him stumble back a step. “I’m going to see my wife!”

Yeonjun doesn’t back down. If anything, he looks even angrier.

“Stop it! Both of you!” Ryu-jin’s voice cracks as she looks up, mascara streaked down her tear-stained cheeks. She doesn’t bother wiping it away. Her hands tremble as she points at the door. “Visitors aren’t allowed until tomorrow. She’s in surgery, Beomgyu. And it’s not… it’s not a minor one.”

Those words hit him like a freight train. The fight drains out of him, leaving only fear in its place. He stumbles back a step, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to breathe. “Surgery?” he whispers, his voice breaking. “What kind of surgery?”

Yeonjun glares at him, unmoving. “And now you come running,” he spits, his tone bitter. “After all this time? Now you care?”

Beomgyu clenches his jaw, meeting Yeonjun’s fiery gaze but saying nothing. Because he knows Yeonjun’s right.

Yeonjun’s shoulders sag, and his voice softens, “You don’t even know,” he says, eyes on the floor. “You don’t know what a fucking queen your wife is.”

The unexpected shift in tone stops Beomgyu in his tracks. He stares at Yeonjun. His words—they're spoken with such devastation that it leaves him frozen. He sees the sullen look on Yeonjun's face. After all, Yeonjun has always been soft when it comes to you.

So soft that it terrifies Beomgyu.

"Beomgyu." Soobin's voice cuts through the heavy silence, pulling Beomgyu out of his spiralling thoughts. He turns toward him, barely able to focus. "Let's talk here."

Beomgyu nods silently and walks over, his legs feeling heavier with every step. He follows without a word, leaving Yeonjun and Ryu-jin standing alone near the door.

Ryu-jin watches Yeonjun out of the corner of her eye. He hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a single word since his last bitter remark to Beomgyu. He stands there, staring at the floor. His hands clasped together.

The silence stretches uncomfortably, and she can’t help herself. “Yeonjun…” she starts hesitantly. “You’re not… in love with her or something, are you?”

Her words made Yeonjun’s head snap up. His eyes meet hers, and for the first time, Ryu-jin sees it—really sees it. The glassy sheen in his eyes, the way his lips part but no words come out. The heartbreak painted so clearly on his face that it makes her chest ache. “You idiot,” she whispers, her voice soft with pity.

Yeonjun lets out a shaky breath, his gaze dropping again as if he can’t bear the weight of her sympathy. “She’s… my best friend’s little sister,” he murmurs, his voice raw and quiet. “I didn’t think it was possible. Not for me. Not for her.” He doesn’t answer directly. He doesn’t need to. It’s all over his face.

Yeonjun was in love with you, ever since he first saw you.

Beomgyu sat across from Soobin, his hands clenched tightly in his lap as he listened. Soobin’s voice was calm but firm as he explained what the doctors had said—stress was the last thing you could handle right now. “I’ll let you know if it’s okay for you to see her."

The words didn’t settle easily. Beomgyu didn’t understand why no one would tell him anything about your condition, why every detail was kept from him. But knowing you were stable, even for the moment, was enough. He swallowed his frustration and nodded, agreeing to Soobin’s terms.

Still, he couldn’t help himself. As Soobin turned to leave, Beomgyu’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Please,” he begged, “Let me see her. Just once… before I go.”

Beomgyu felt like his heart was clawing its way out of his chest, beating so erratically it left him breathless. It begged to escape, just as he begged silently to be allowed into the ICU. His hands trembled, numb and unsteady. He flexed his fingers, forcing a crack to echo through his knuckles, before gripping the cold metal of the doorknob.

On the other side of this door was you—the woman he hurt.

The thought made him pause, the ache in his chest spreading to his throat, tightening it like a noose. He wasn’t sure he could face you—not like this. But he couldn’t stay away, not anymore.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and his heart stuttered at the sight of you. Your face was pale but peaceful, your eyes closed, your breaths slow and steady. The sound of the machines around you was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He stepped closer, each movement hesitant, his guilt weighing heavier with every inch he bridged between you. When he finally reached your bedside, he froze, staring down at your hand—fragile and adorned with IV needles. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. They were soft. Warm. And just that small, simple touch made him breathe again—really breathe—for the first time in days.

“Baby,” he whispered, the word breaking in his throat.

He sank to his knees beside you, clutching your hand to his face. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. They fell onto your skin, warm and unrelenting, a silent apology for every mistake he had made. He pressed his lips to your hand, shoulders shook as he cried.

The past few days without you had been unbearable. If he ever had doubts, or worries, if he ever hesitated—those thoughts were gone now. It's you. He’d thought about every little thing you did that he had taken for granted. All of it. And he realized, how much it all mattered.

How much you mattered to him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, whispers to your skin as he continue to kiss your palm. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the words pouring out of him. “You mean everything to me. I didn’t see it before, but I see it now. I love you. God, I love you so much.”

He squeezed your hand, hoping—praying—that somehow you could feel him. That even in this fragile, unconscious state, you could hear the desperate beating of his heart, could feel the truth in his touch. “I’ll do better,” he whispered, “I’ll be better. If you’ll just… if you’ll just give me another chance. Please.”

He didn’t know if you could hear him. He didn’t know if you��d ever forgive him. And he hates himself how it took him this long to figure it out.

Beomgyu’s heart was in his hands now, fully exposed and vulnerable, waiting—you could somehow feel it. He rested his forehead against your hand, tears pooling on the stark white sheets. If you gave him the chance, he’d spend the rest of his life proving that his love is real. He was finally here, standing in the world where you had once stood so heartbreakingly alone. And that his heart was yours, completely yours.

He would spend forever making up for what he had done. Even if it kills him.

“Where were you?” you asked, reaching over to grab the strawberry from the basket on the kitchen table. Beomgyu’s chuckle filled the room. “I went drinking with Taehyun. Just a light drink,” he said casually, his hand brushing your shoulder as he passed behind you to grab a plate.

“Why? Did you miss your husband?” he teased, carefully plating the food before setting it down in front of you. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You wish.”

He chuckled, handing you a spoon and fork before moving around the kitchen. A tall glass appeared on the table next to your plate and he poured you water.

“Did he miss me too?” Beomgyu’s voice was soft, almost tentative, drawing your gaze upward. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you were caught in the tenderness there. It made your heart ache in that way only he could.

“He?” You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you swallowed. “What makes you so sure it's a boy?” Your hand instinctively brushed over your stomach as a quiet smile softened your face. The thought of your little one—boy or girl—filled you with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.

“I just feel it,” A small smile flickered across his lips, “What if we get twins?”

You looked down, your thoughts wandering to tiny clothes, little shoes scattered across the floor, and pastel-painted walls filled with light and laughter. “That would be… amazing,” you murmured.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Beomgyu pulling out the chair beside you. He sat down at first, but then, almost as if drawn closer by some unseen force, he shifted. You felt his gaze before you saw him—soft, unwavering, and filled with a kind of awe that made your chest tighten.

“That sounds nice, two little you running around.” he breathed, his voice almost a whisper. His hand reached out slowly, brushing against your stomach. You set down your utensils, giving him a soft nod as you shifted slightly, allowing him more access.

Beomgyu lowered himself onto his knees in front of you, his large hands resting gently on either side of your growing belly. He glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before he let out a long, steady breath. Then, with a tenderness that made your throat tighten, he leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently against your stomach.

“Mommy and Daddy love you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it. He sounded so vulnerable, so small—like all the pain he had been carrying had finally spilled over. His lips pressed softly against your stomach. And then, without a word, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face against you.

Your hand moved instinctively, threading through his soft hair with slow, soothing strokes. He pulled you closer, as though being near you could quiet the storm in his heart. Your fingers trailed down the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down his back.

And then—it shifted.

In your dream, you were cradling a baby to your chest, its tiny body safe in your arms. Beomgyu leaned down, smiling widely as you do.

You woke up, panting.

You were dreaming. It shattered as reality came rushing back. Pain coursed through you, sharp and unrelenting, pulling a small, involuntary sound from your lips.

The memory hit next, as vivid as the moment it happened. Driving through the night with tears blurring your vision, your hands trembling on the wheel. The sound of your ragged breathing, the pounding of your heart. You were speeding, desperate to outrun the ache inside. Then the impact—another car colliding into yours, the violent spin before your vision went black.

“Hnn,” you whimpered, barely able to get the sound out. Your throat was dry, parched, and every part of you ached. You needed water.

"Y/N," a voice broke through the haze of your awakening. You turned your head to see your brother, Soobin. His face paled as he dropped whatever he was holding and rushed to your side. “I—I—”

“Water. Please,” you rasped, your throat dry and raw.

Soobin nodded quickly, his hands trembling as he reached for the water bottle on the nearby table. He uncapped it, holding it to your lips as you drank. Relief was fleeting; the ache in your chest outweighed the dryness in your throat.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice a little stronger now, though your hands still shook.

“You got into an accident,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. His voice was low, almost fragile. “A surgery was performed. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

You nodded, trying to process his words, but his silence that followed unsettled you. ou looked at him, noticing the way his eyes darted away from yours, how his lips pressed together like he was holding back something he didn’t know how to say.

“What is it?” you pressed, your chest tightening with dread.

Soobin hesitated, his hands fidgeting in his lap before he reached out to take yours. “Let me call the nurse first, okay?” You nodded, though the fear in his voice made it hard to breathe.

You nodded, your anxiety growing as he stepped out. Moments later, the nurse arrived, and then the doctor, their voices calm and professional as they began explaining the details of your condition. But their words blurred together—a haze of medical jargon that barely registered—until one sentence shattered everything.

“You were in your first trimester when the accident occurred. The baby didn’t survive. I’m so sorry for your loss.” Your world tilted. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, it felt like your heart had stopped.

“A baby?” you whispered, the word foreign and fragile on your lips.

The nurse and doctor offered their condolences before quietly excusing themselves, leaving you alone with Soobin. Your hands trembled as they instinctively moved to your stomach. “I was pregnant?” Your voice cracked, disbelief and anguish bleeding into every word. "Soobin?"

“Y/N…” Soobin’s voice was choked with emotion.

“I mean… they’re saying I was…” You stopped, the reality sinking in with a force so cruel. “Oh.”

“I didn’t even know,” Tears blurred your vision as the enormity of it all crashed down on you. You lost a baby. A life you didn’t even know you were carrying. A piece of you that was gone before you ever had the chance to feel it, to know it, to love it.

Did you have to lose your child too?

The sobs came hard and fast, wracking your body until you could barely breathe. Your hands covered your mouth, trying to hold in the grief that spilled over anyway. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant.” you choked out, your voice breaking. “And now… they’re gone.” Your hands clutched at your stomach as if trying to hold on to something that was no longer there. "It's all my fault."

Soobin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as your cries tore the room. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice shaking. He held you tightly. The only thing that kept you from falling out.

Your cries grew louder, as the loss consumed you. The one you saw in your dream, so warm in your arms. You had held them, hadn’t you? You could still feel the weight of their tiny body in your arms.

Your baby.

All you could do was mourn for the life that had slipped away before you even knew it existed.

It’s been a week since Soobin made his last call to Beomgyu. A week since you opened your eyes in the hospital. And yet, Beomgyu has heard nothing.

Every day, he drags himself to the hospital. But every time, the answer is the same: no. On the fourth day, he arrived—you’d been discharged. You were gone.

Still, every morning, Beomgyu wakes up with that same aching hope that refuses to let go no matter how much it hurts. He gets through the day somehow, clutching at the thought of seeing your face again. But by night, when the world quiets, he’s left with nothing but his tears, falling asleep with the weight of your absence pressing down on his heart.

He’s distracted, eyes fixed on the same line of text glowing on his computer screen. It’s been minutes, maybe longer, and he still hasn’t moved past the first sentence. His mind is elsewhere—adrift—when a knock on the office door pulls him back.

His secretary peeks in, face filled with cautious expression. “Sir, I’ve been calling your phone. Someone’s here to see you—Park Sunghoon.”

Beomgyu blinked, confused. Sunghoon? His old batchmate, someone he’d shared classes with years ago. They hadn’t talked in forever. He nodded slowly, signalling her to let him in.

The door opens fully, and Sunghoon strides in. His pale complexion contrasts starkly with the black polo shirt he’s wearing, and Beomgyu notices the glasses perched on his nose—something he didn't have before. Sunghoon doesn’t look quite the same as Beomgyu remembers.

“Beomgyu,” Sunghoon said with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How’ve you been, man?”

“Sunghoon,” Beomgyu responds, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What brings you here?” He gestures toward the seat across the desk, and Sunghoon takes it. The frown etched into his brow didn’t escape Beomgyu’s notice. “Is everything okay?”

Sunghoon exhales, leaning forward and clasping his hands together on his knees. “You know I’m close with Jay, right?”

Beomgyu narrows his eyes, unsure where this is heading, but he nods. “Yeah. And?”

“Well…” Sunghoon hesitates, the words seemingly heavy in his throat before he finally speaks. “I heard about Y/N. That she got into an accident recently.” The sound of your name halts Beomgyu.

“I couldn’t ignore it anymore,” Sunghoon continues, voice quieter. “I made promises to her, you know? But lately… I don’t know. It’s been eating me alive.”

Beomgyu runs his hand to his hair, "Sunghoon…”

"I didn’t think it was my place to say this," Sunghoon begins, "When I heard you two got married, I thought maybe she’d tell you. Maybe you already know. But I came here personally, just in case. Because you deserve to know. And if I don’t tell you now, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life."

He exhales deeply before continuing. “Do you remember how you used to talk about Ji-won? How you’d brag about her cooking for you, leaving little things for you—sweets, medicine, hot packs. Or the cold water she’d always leave at your bench during those grueling practices under the sun? Do you remember how she saved your ass that time you forgot your assignment, staying up late just to finish it for you? You told us all those things, over and over, like she a gem.” Beomgyu feels his chest tighten as Sunghoon meets his nervous gaze.

“All of that, Beomgyu… it wasn’t Ji-won,” Sunghoon says carefully, “It was Y/N. Every single one of those things. I know because… she asked me to help her sometimes. She didn’t want you to know. She didn’t do it for recognition or because she wanted anything back. She just cared about you. I even told her once—maybe she should tell you how she felt, and even if you didn’t feel the same, at least it’d help her move on. But she wouldn’t. She told me… her love for you wasn’t about getting something back. It wasn’t about her. It wasn’t selfish.”

Beomgyu’s hand trembles under the table, his knuckles white as he clenches his fists. His throat feels tight, each word hitting his ears.

“At first, I couldn’t understand her decision—I even judged her for it, thinking she was only making... things harder on herself,” Sunghoon admits, voice softening. “But over time, I realized—none of us have the right to judge someone else’s pain. You can’t measure someone else’s actions by your own standards. What might seem small or insignificant to one person could be earth-shattering to someone else.”

Beomgyu had been in love with the idea of Ji-won all along.

Those moments—the little gestures, the care, the comfort—they had become the foundation of his attachment to her. How he remembered her. They were the memories he clung to, the ones burned so deeply into his mind that letting her go had felt impossible. She was, in his mind, someone who cared for him. Someone who truly knew him.

But it wasn’t her. It was you. It had been you all along.

He thinks about Ji-won, the girl he once believed was willing to stand by him no matter what. She made him think about defying his parents, about running away from everything—his responsibilities, his future, his entire life. Ji-won was the one who fueled his anger, who stood beside him as he cursed the world and everyone in it.

And then there was you.

You, who never let him go too far. You didn’t encourage his anger—you challenged it. Even when it meant standing against him, because you wanted him to understand—not everything could be run from. It was you who reminded him that his obligations weren’t a prison but a part of him, something he couldn’t just abandon. It was you who helped him rebuild the bridge to his parents when he didn’t even realise it had been burned.

It’s suffocating now, the truth. To realise that the very actions that made him fall for Ji-won—the moments he thought defined her love for him—were never hers. They were yours.

Ji-won had been nothing but a mirror to his rebellion. This truth, made him want to see you more.

“Pour me another,” Beomgyu muttered to the bartender he leaned heavily on his forearm. The man hesitated, his concern written all over his face. Beomgyu noticed but didn’t care. “I said, pour me another one.”

With a reluctant nod, the bartender slid another drink in front of him. Beomgyu downed it in one go, the burn in his throat doing nothing to drown out the ache in his chest. He fumbled for his phone, the screen glaring back at him as he typed out messages he knew you’d never read.

I miss you, baby. Can I see you? Let’s talk, please. Are you not going to see me? Forever? Ok. I understand. I don’t deserve forgiveness. No. Please. Give me a chance. Just one chance to see you. To talk to you, please. I can’t go on another day without you. Please Y/N.

The messages sat there, unanswered.

Stumbling out of the bar, his legs unsteady and his vision blurred, he barely noticed the bartender calling his driver. He collapsed onto the pavement outside, his head in his hands, phone still clutched in his trembling fingers.

As he opened it again, ready to type another desperate plea, his screen lit up with an incoming call. His heart skipped, hope flickering briefly before seeing another unfamiliar number.

“When are you going to stop calling me, Ji-won?” he shouted into the phone, his voice hoarse with frustration and alcohol. “I’ve said it more than once—we don’t need to talk. Not ever again.”

“I just wanted to know how you’re—”

“Please!” he cut her off, his voice breaking as tears streamed freely down his face. He was shaking now, his words spilling out in a desperate sob. “Please, Ji-won… I know everything. I know what you did. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.”

He pressed his palm against his mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his own cries. “Please,” he whispered, the word barely audible through his tears. “Just let me be.”

The line ends.

Ji-won freezes, her fingers trembling as the line goes dead. You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You… you destroyed it.

She exhales shakily, forcing air into her lungs that suddenly feel too tight. Her phone slips from her hand, landing softly on the bedspread. Hot tears well in her eyes, blurring the room around her. She had let herself believe—naively, foolishly—that Choi Beomgyu could still be hers.

Even after everything, she had convinced herself that there was still a piece of him that belonged to her. But now, hearing his words, she knew. She had already lost him.

The tears came harder as her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to the moment it all began. The moment her hatred for you took root.

“Beomgyu,” she had chirped, plopping down beside him on the couch. He had been immersed in a book, his brow furrowed in concentration, but she didn’t care. She wanted his attention, his reassurance. She always did. “There’s this talk going around about… Y/N,” she said, the name leaving a sour taste on her tongue. “People are saying she’s the prettiest girl on campus.” Her voice dropped, tinged with an edge of insecurity.

“But that’s not true, right? She’s not that… pretty.” She trailed off, squeezing his hand, her smile faltering as she waited for the words she longed to hear. She wanted him to say, there was no competition—that she was the most beautiful girl in his eyes.

Beomgyu was half hearing her words because he was engrossed in the book he was reading. So instead, he looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a hint of confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “It's true. I think she’s beautiful.”

It was on that day Ji-won began to hate you with every fiber of her being.

The kind of hatred that wasn’t born overnight, but nurtured by her insecurities, fed by the way you walked through the world without a care—dragging every boy’s eyes in your wake as if it were effortless. And the worst part? You didn’t even seem to notice. You didn’t have to notice.

Jealousy festered in her chest, growing heavier each time she caught a glimpse of you. It didn’t help that you and Beomgyu—her Beomgyu—shared a world she could never truly enter. The Chois. The big families. A legacy. Something she wasn’t, something she could never be.

The announcement of your engagement felt like the final blow. She couldn’t understand how the universe could be so evil. You, the girl she couldn’t stand, were being handed the one thing she clung to the hardest. It wasn’t fair. And as jealousy morphed into bitterness, she let herself simmer in the injustice of it all, until it burned hot enough to ignite a plan.

Ji-won thought of everything. She knew Beomgyu would be there at the party, and she knew what she had to do. She chose the kind of dress he used to love. She styled her hair the way he used to run his fingers through, practised the words he used to adore hearing spill from her lips. She even reached for the used perfume he once said he liked.

It wasn’t an accident. None of it was. Ji-won walked into that room not as a guest, but as someone determined to remind him of what they once had. It didn’t matter that he was married.

You ruined the only good thing I ever had. You destroyed it. Please, just let me be.

She swallows hard, the lump in her throat refusing to go away. The realization settles over her like a heavy fog, a fog that turns clear—she is nothing more than a wall. A futile obstacle standing in the way of two souls who are meant to be together.

She opens her phone, booking a flight—any flight—to anywhere but here.

“It’s here,” Soobin says softly, his hand resting gently on your back as he guides you forward. His finger points to the glass grave in front of you.

Gone, but forever in our hearts. Moon.

Your Moon. The name you gave your baby—a name as delicate and luminous as the child who never got to see the world. You thought long and hard about it. It had to be beautiful, just like him. A name worthy of all the love you poured into his short, fleeting existence.

You pull out your handkerchief, wiping at the thin layer of dust that has settled on the outside of the glass. Your fingers tremble as you do, as though clearing the smudges could make it hurt less. But it doesn’t. It never does. Your brow furrows as you fight the ache swelling in your chest. He’s in there—inside that small, delicate bottle. And this is all you can do for him now.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, your voice cracking as the words leave your lips. Soobin stands beside you, his smile soft but heavy with sadness. “Do you think I would’ve been a good uncle?” he asks, his voice barely louder than the wind.

You glance at him, your heart aching at the question. He kneels to place the small flowers you’d brought together, arranging them with the utmost care. There's an unfamiliar flower resting beside it. Someone must have wrongly placed it.

“Yes,” you manage to say, your throat tight with emotion. “I think the two of you would’ve been close.” You force a smile, though it wavers, your words choking you as they come out.

He reaches up and smooths your hair, a comforting gesture that almost makes you break. “He’s up there,” Soobin murmurs, his eyes lifting to the sky. “With no pain. Watching over you.”

You nod, swallowing hard, willing your tears to stay back. You can’t cry. Not here. Not now. If you cry, your baby might worry. You’ve convinced yourself of that, even if it doesn’t make sense.

The week after your discharge was unbearable.

You clung to Soobin like a lifeline, your hands gripping his. Your parents moved you back into their house without question, simply knowing you needed them.

Your mother—the strongest woman you’d ever known, the one who never faltered—cried with you when you broke the news. She held you in her arms like you were a child again, her tears falling silently against your hair as you sobbed into her chest. Your father walked with you every day, leading you to the garden where you could sit in the sunlight, as if the warmth could somehow seep into the cracks inside you. They cooked your meals, cleaned your space, and did everything you couldn’t bring yourself to do.

Tonight, you find yourself staring blankly at the walls of your old room.

The quiet feels suffocating, pressing against your chest. Sleep won’t come, and before you even realise it, tears are slipping down your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying until the dampness touches your skin. You sit up abruptly, your chest heaving as if the air refuses to fill your lungs. The stillness of the bed feels unbearable, so you push yourself off it, your feet meeting the cool floor.

Pacing back and forth, you feel the tears come harder now, unchecked and unexplainable. You don’t even know why you’re crying. It’s just there—this ache, this heaviness. You were about to go out, to get Soobin or your parents.

But then your eyes caught the window.

It glows. The moon.

It’s full tonight, impossibly bright, casting a soft, silvery glow across the room. It feels like it’s staring back at you. You stand there, frozen, the phone slipping from your hand. The moon’s reflection shimmers faintly in your tear-filled eyes, and for a moment, you forget the heaviness pressing against your chest. It’s as if the moon is speaking to you, telling you to breathe, to let go, to just be.

Your breathing steadies. You stand there, bathed in its light, feeling the faintest glimmer of peace. And the storm inside you begins to calm.

It’s been six months since you woke up.

Six months since you returned to your parents’ house, where the familiar walls offered some sense of safety. Ryu-jin and Yeonjun visit almost every weekend, their presence a small comfort. Soobin stays, too, refusing to leave your side.

It’s been almost seven months since you last saw Choi Beomgyu.

Seven months since everything fell apart.

Choi Beomgyu, who, for six months now, has spent every single day driving two hours to your parents’ house. He shows up like clockwork, no matter the weather, no matter the time. After work, he makes the trip, arriving at the big gated doors with a bouquet of white roses in his hands. Every single day.

He doesn’t make a scene or beg to be let in. He just waits, bouquet in hand, a fragile hope flickering in his eyes. White roses. Always white roses. They used to be your favourite.

His parents send gifts, too. Packages and handwritten letters arrive, carefully chosen and delicately worded, but you can’t bring yourself to open them.

And every day, you hear the knock at the gate. Every day, you peek from the upstairs window, watching him wait, white roses clutched in his hands like a lifeline. And every day, you stay hidden behind the curtains, your feet stay rooted to the floor, your heart too bruised to carry you to him.

But today is different. Today, it has to be.

The papers are in your hands. Unsigned divorce papers. You tell yourself it’s just paper, just ink, but the trembling in your hands betrays the truth.

You walk to the building you once called home, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway that once smelled of comfort and familiarity. Now it feels like a mausoleum.

Your hand hovers over the doorbell of your home—no, his home. The space you used to share feels distant. The ring in your other hand feels impossibly heavy, its cool metal biting into your palm.

You’ve tried to get rid of it before. Once, you even threw it in the trash, convincing yourself it was the right thing to do. But then came the panic. You tore through the garbage, hands shaking, the stench clinging to you as you clawed through. It didn’t matter that you ruined your clothes or that your mom’s voice cracked as she begged you to stop.

You just couldn’t let it go. Maybe, you should return it properly.

You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.

When the door swung open, Beomgyu’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything froze. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. You felt your chest tighten painfully, the sight of him unravelling something inside you. He looked… so different. His hair, longer now, fell to his shoulders in messy waves, unkempt like he hadn’t bothered to comb it. His skin was pale, almost sickly, and his eyes were rimmed with red, like he’d been crying—or hadn’t slept in days.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand gripped the edge of the door like he needed something to steady him, his heart hammering so loudly he swore you could hear it. Was this real? Were you really standing there? He let his gaze trail over you, taking in your thinner frame, the hollow tiredness etched into your face. He wanted to say something, to invite you in, but the words caught in his throat.

You didn’t say a word. Instead, you stepped past him, the sharp click of your heels against the floor filling the suffocating silence. Each step echoed like a countdown, louder in his ears than it should have been. Beomgyu turned to watch you, his hand hovering uselessly at his side, aching to reach out but too afraid to try.

He closed the door softly behind you.

Your eyes scan the room, and it hits you all at once—everything’s a mess. Clothes are strewn carelessly over the couch, an empty chip bag crumpled on the kitchen counter, dishes piling up in the sink. The air feels heavy, stagnant, like the windows haven’t been opened in weeks.

And then your gaze shifts—to the open door on the right. Your room.

Your breath catches as you take it in. The bed is unmade, the sheets tangled in a way that’s unmistakable.

He’s been sleeping there. Beomgyu. In your room. In your bed.

"Uh," Beomgyu starts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, it's… kind of a mess."

You nod stiffly, not meeting his eyes. "It's okay."

The sound of your voice makes him freeze. It’s been so long since he’s heard it—too long. His chest tightens, but before he can savor it, your next words come like a knife to his heart. "I'm not going to be here for long anyway."

His brows furrow, panic flashing across his face. "Wh-why?" he stammers, his voice breaking. "I mean—"

You cut him off, extending the envelope toward him with trembling hands. "Let’s…" You swallow hard, forcing the words out despite the lump in your throat. "Let’s get a divorce."

Beomgyu stares at you, his mind reeling. The hope that had bloomed in his chest when he saw you standing at his door clashes violently with the reality of your words. His lips part, but no sound comes at first. Finally, he whispers, "Why?"

He can’t stop himself. The panic is overwhelming. "I went to your house every day," he says, his voice breaking. "Every single day, Y/N. I wanted to make this work. I—I sent you messages, I tried everything. Do you…" He swallows hard, his throat tight. "Do you not love me anymore?" He knows he sounds pathetic, but he doesn’t care. The speeches he’d rehearsed in his head dissolve into nothing, overtaken by the fright clawing at him.

Your breath hitches, and when you speak, your voice is cold, trembling with barely contained emotion. "I don’t care if I love you, Beomgyu. I don’t care if it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest, or if it feels like I’m dying inside." You take a shaky breath, your grip tightening on the envelope. "I want a divorce. And when it’s done, you’ll never see me again."

Beomgyu flinches like you’ve struck him, his knees nearly buckling. He shifts uncomfortably, his hands shaking at his sides. "Is this still about Ji-won?" he asks hesitantly, and the way you flinch answers him before your words can.

He swallows hard, his voice growing more frantic. "It’s true, Y/N. It’s true, that I cheated. I kissed her, but as soon as it happened, I pushed her away." He presses a trembling hand to his chest. "It didn’t mean anything—it was a mistake, a horrible mistake, and I hate myself for it every single day. But please…" His voice cracks, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Please, give me a chance."

You shake your head, a sob breaking free despite how hard you’re trying to hold it together. "It’s too late, Beomgyu," you whisper, your voice trembling as your hands shake. You open your hands, and try to give the ring back. "Too much has happened. We can’t go back."

Beomgyu doesn’t take it. He just stands there, staring at the ring in your palm, tears streaming down his face. He knows. If he takes it, it’s over. If he takes it, you’ll be gone for good, out of his life forever.

"I can’t," he whispers, his voice broken. "I can’t take it."

He won’t take the ring, so he takes your hand and pulled you to him, kissing your lips fervently and enduring the slam of your fists against his body and chest. It was all him; it was all his fault. He is an emotional wreck who doesn’t know what to do and how to contain his feelings.

“Beomgyu—” you gasped, your voice breaking as you pushed at his chest. He didn’t let go, his hands cupping your face, fingers brushing against your jaw like you were something fragile and sacred. His touch was shaky, his breathing uneven as his hands slid to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

His movements were hurried, frantic, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. In one swift motion, he lifted you, his steps unsteady as he carried you to the bedroom. Your bedroom. The air felt heavy as he laid you down on the mattress—his mattress now, the one that carried his scent.

“Wait—,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve. But even as you pushed against him, your lips didn’t stop moving from kissing him back. His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word until he declared his love for you through kisses. You let yourself melt under his touch.

Your hands, which had been pushing him away moments before, now found his shoulders for balance as he pressed you back into the bed. The mattress creaked beneath you, and you hated how your body still remembered him—how it responded to him like no time had passed at all.

His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours, hungry and desperate. You had missed him—every part of him. That truth burned inside you as your fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling him closer, urging him on. His body pressed against yours, grinding to yours, while his hands roamed over your skin, igniting every nerve he touched. His lips trailed downward, leaving soft kisses that melted into your flesh, a path leading straight to your core.

He stripped you of every barrier, leaving you bare under his gaze. His eyes shimmered with something between adoration and hunger as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world.

“Don’t leave me…” he whispered between kisses, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. Tears pricked your eyes because you wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. His hands explored further, his fingers reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of. You trembled beneath him, gasping and crying out as he whispered confessions into your skin.

His mouth was poetry, speaking without syllables. His kisses, his touch—every movement of his lips and tongue—proclaimed what he hadn’t said out loud. Your body gave in, melting under the weight of his devotion, your mind consumed by him.

“Don’t leave me again, please,” he murmured as he positioned himself, slowly sliding into you. A low, guttural sound escaped him as he felt you, tight and warm, pulling him deeper. He missed you so much that he's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—apologies, regrets.

"Please," His touch was gentle, even as his thrusts inside you grew more desperate. He cradled your head, kissed away your tears, and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “It’s always been you.”

“I love you…” he murmured, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist, and he repeated the words softly into your ear, like a prayer he needed you to hear.

"Beomgyu," You whispered his name and it made tears well up in his eyes. His hand gently pushed the damp strands of hair from your face, and he pressed tender kisses along your cheeks, your temple, and your jaw. When he noticed your tears, he wiped them away without hesitation, his touch careful and soothing.

“Shh, angel,” he whispered, pulling you against his chest, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away. His lips brushed the crown of your head, and his hand moved in calming strokes up and down your back. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

You had come here to end it. To finally say the words that would close this chapter for good. You’d rehearsed it in your mind, telling yourself you’d leave with your head held high.

But all of that clarity blurred with every kiss he gave you, every whisper of your name that fell from his lips. Every I love you, over and over again, spoken like a spell meant to undo you. And it did. The walls you had worked so hard to build these past seven months—brick by painstaking brick—began to crack and crumble.

And when he pulled you closer, his arms tightening around you like he couldn’t bear to let go, you felt yourself falter completely. Because no matter how much resolve you thought you had, it was never enough when it came to him.

Two fractured bodies came together, love-making to each other to chase away all the scars and time passed.

The papers meant to sever—to declare the ending—lay discarded on the floor, forgotten.

The brightness of the room stings your eyes as they flutter open. You blink, disoriented, your chest tightening with a familiar weight. Panic creeps up, sharp and unforgiving. He must have left. He must have slipped out of bed again, leaving you to wake up alone.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Beomgyu’s voice is soft, tinged with concern as he gently cradles your face in his hands. He had woken up before you, the morning light spilling across the room, but leaving the bed felt impossible. Not when you were curled so closely against him, your bodies still tangled under the warmth of the sheets.

He stayed, wrapping himself around you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms holding you. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the faint scent that now feels like home. It was quiet—so quiet—until he felt the faint tremble on your body. His grip tightened instinctively, his voice barely above a whisper as he called out to you again. “Y/N,"

You blinked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. Turning your head, your eyes met his—heavy-lidded and soft with sleep. His arms tightened around your waist. A shaky breath escaped your lips, your chest tight as tears welled in your eyes. You tried to hold them back, but they came anyway.

Beomgyu’s thumb brushed against your cheek, catching the first tear as it slipped down. He didn’t miss a thing. His gaze traced every flicker of emotion on your face. He opened his mouth, ready to ask what was wrong again, but you spoke first,

“You finally stayed.”

Your words made him froze. Guilt settled heavy in his chest, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His forehead pressed against yours, lips hovered so close to yours.

“I won’t ever leave. Every day, you’ll wake up, and I’ll be here. Right by your side.”

Beomgyu was different—so different it made your heart ache in the best way.

He was there, every single step, helping you out of bed like it was second nature. You had to practically fight for the simple dignity of showering alone, and even then, he lingered just outside the door, making sure you were okay.

And when it was his turn to ask for something, “Please cook for me again,” he’d said, his voice begging.

So you did. You made the soup—the very first one you’d ever cooked for him back in college. As the soup simmered, Beomgyu started to talk. He told you about Ji-won, about his unexpected interaction with Sunghoon, and how he’d rejected Ji-won long before he even knew the full truth. He spoke with an honesty that left no room for doubt, his words meant only for you.

When your mind wandered, when your eyes drifted away, Beomgyu noticed. He always noticed. His fingers would gently close around yours, pulling you back to him. He’d press soft kisses to your palms, his touch saying more than words ever could: Stay with me. I’m here.

“This is too good,” Beomgyu groaned after his first sip of the soup, you know see his face lighting up like what Sunghoon told you about. His hands cradled the bowl, and you couldn’t help but notice the glint of his ring—the one he refused to take off. It made you looked down at your own hand, there it was—your ring, the one Beomgyu fought for last night.

You took a small sip, letting the warmth spread through you. But it did little to settle the weight in your stomach. There was still something left unsaid, something you hadn’t found the courage to tell him yet. “Beomgyu,”

He squeezes your hand—the one he hasn’t let go of, even while eating. His arm stretches across the table to hold yours, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hmm?” he hums.

“Back in the hospital…” you begin, your voice trembling with of what you’re about to say. You feel his gaze shift to you, “I had a… I had a miscarriage.” You swallow hard, forcing yourself to continue. “I lost our child.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, your eyes fixed on the half-eaten soup in front of you. The warmth in his hand disappears, and your heart sinks. When you hear the sound of his chair scraping against the floor, dread floods your chest. He’s walking away.

But then he’s there—beside you. He pulls out the chair next to yours and sits down. When he leans forward to pull you into his arms, it’s like the air returns to your lungs. He guides your face to rest against his shoulder. His arms come around you, holding you close.

“I know,” he whispers, “Soobin told me.”

Your breath catches, and your chest feels both heavy and light at the same time. “I went to him every day, you know,” he continues, his hand running soothing circles on your back. “It’s hard not to. I couldn’t stay away. He… he got me.”

You exhale shakily, your body relaxing into his. The faint memory of flowers on your baby's grave—ones you couldn’t remember bringing yourself—floats to the surface. It all makes sense now. Beomgyu had been there, mourning as you did.

Your hand never leaves Beomgyu’s as he drives.

The road feels both too short and too long, leading you to the place you’ve come to know too well. It’s green here—peaceful and impossibly beautiful in a way that feels both comforting and heartbreaking. He parks the car, steps out, and circles around to open your door. His hand finds yours again as you step out, and together, you walk the path you’ve walked before.

In your other hand, you hold the small bouquet—a gift for the little one who rests here now, your little angel. You kneel gently, placing the flowers at the grave. Beomgyu crouches beside you, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the stone.

Beomgyu’s voice breaks the silence, trembling as he whispers, “Daddy’s here with Mommy now, just like I promised you.” His words catch in his throat, and he pauses, his head bowing slightly as he tries to gather himself. “I told you I could do it,” he continues, his voice shaking, raw with emotion. “Daddy’s so sorry for everything. I promise I’ll take care of your Mommy. I’ll take care of her, I swear. You just play up there, okay? Don’t worry about us. Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything.”

Your heart aches at his words, and you press closer to his side. His arm finds its way around your shoulders, holding you tight. You cling to him just as fiercely, your bodies leaning into one another, trying not to fall apart in front of the greatest what-if of your lives.

I can’t wait to see you, wife. Almost there. I love you.

The corners of your lips tugged into a smile as you read your husband’s text. It had been a week since you decided to reconcile. And in those seven days, he had kept every promise, showing you with quiet consistency that he meant every word.

Reaching for your perfume, you lightly spritzed it onto your pulse points. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, smoothing the fabric of your dress, a small flutter of nerves in your chest.

The past still lingered—it wasn’t something that could just disappear. There were nights you woke up gasping, caught in the grip of nightmares. But the smoke always seemed to lift the moment you heard his voice, the way he whispered comfort like he could chase away the darkness with nothing but his presence. It was a start.

You spent the weekend at your parents’ house. When you told them you were giving your marriage another chance, their eyes had softened, and they gave you their support. And now, here you were, waiting for him—your husband—who was on his way to take you on your first date.

Married for almost three years, and are going out for your first date. The date he’d practically begged for, pouting for hours until you finally agreed, because he said he wanted it.

A beginning.

You make your way down the stairs. When you reach the bottom, your eyes land on Yeonjun, lounging on the couch, his fingers absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t notice you at first, but the moment he does, he sets it down without hesitation.

Walking over to him, you don’t give him a chance to say anything. Your hands gently cup his face, and before he can react, you press a quick kiss to his forehead. “Yeonjun,” you say softly, standing in front of him now, your gaze grateful. “Thank you. For everything.”

Your words seem to light him up. A smile spreads across his face, and he attempts one of his signature winks—a clumsy one at that. It’s so bad it makes you both break into laughter, the sound echoing warmly in the room. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he replies, he stands up and asks for another hug from you.

"Take care, always, okay?" You nod to his shoulders. Grateful to this man who did things for you, without asking anything back.

After saying your goodbyes to Yeonjun, you step outside, your eyes sweeping across the open space in front of the large doors.

Beomgyu leans casually against his sleek black velvet car, the deep color almost absorbing the light, while Soobin stands beside him, mid-conversation. There’s a quiet ease between them, the kind that makes you pause. When they notice you approaching, Soobin pats Beomgyu’s back, their exchange winding down as they mutter their farewells.

They look like... brothers.

The sight tugs at your heart. When you told Soobin about Beomgyu’s promises, you weren’t sure how he’d react, but it felt like he already knew. “He’s the only one who doesn’t realise how much he loves you,” Soobin had said, his voice certain. “I saw it—starting back at the hospital. It was all over his face.”

Now, as you reach him, you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that speaks more than words ever could. “I love you, Soobin.” you say, the words soft but full of conviction.

Soobin holds you for a beat longer than usual, his hand resting lightly on your back. He feels nothing but peace in his chest.

Maybe now, he can start chasing his own happiness too.

Beomgyu watches silently as you pull away from Soobin, his gaze never leaving you. When your eyes meet his and a soft smile spreads across your lips, his chest tightens. You’re beautiful. So achingly beautiful that it feels like his heart might splinter under your stare.

When you reach him, he leans down without a word, brushing a quick kiss against your lips. He knows he needs this. He knows he needs you.

Because without you, there’s no him.

The day felt like stepping back in time, a snapshot of a younger, simpler you.

It started with the movies, where Beomgyu would lean in for quick, stolen kisses during the darker scenes, his grin impossible to resist. Then came the arcade—a chaotic mix of flashing lights and laughter. He was relentless in his mission to win you a comically oversized teddy bear, to the point of nearly bribing the poor guy running the booth. When he finally succeeded, he held it up like a trophy, his smile as wide as the bear itself. For a moment, it felt like you were back in college, like this could’ve been one of your carefree dates from those days.

Now, you’re crammed into a photo booth together, squishing shoulder to shoulder as the timer counts down. Two grown, married adults pulling silly faces at the camera like teenagers. The faint hum of the machine is drowned out by your shared giggles, and you can feel the curious stares of actual teenagers nearby. They’re probably imagining your life is perfect, the kind of love they dream about. If only they knew how far from perfect it’s been—how much work it’s taken to get here.

When the photo strip finally slides out, Beomgyu grabs it first, holding it up with a burst of laughter. “Look at you, sweetheart,” he says, pointing to one particularly goofy expression you made. His laughter is infectious, and soon you’re both doubled over, bumping to each other as you cackle uncontrollably.

Beomgyu—who always seems so composed, so maddeningly serious—looks nothing like that version of himself when he laughs. He’s wide-eyed and carefree, his joy as pure as a child’s, and it’s beautiful. It heals you. Every day with him feels like this—a discovery, a new layer to peel back, something new to fall in love with.

“God, I love you,” he says suddenly, making your heart flutter.

“I love you too,” you whisper, the smile on your face softening as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. The squeals from the teenagers outside are instant, and you roll your eyes, laughing as you glance at them—your accidental audience, swooning over the two of you like you’re straight out of a rom-com, like they’ve just witnessed something magical.

And maybe they have.

It doesn’t matter if it’s slow, or if it took longer than it should have. Life isn’t perfect, and neither are people. Everyone deserves a second chance—just like the one you gave your marriage. Just like the one it deserved. It may have started off messy in ways you couldn’t imagine fixing, but that didn’t mean it had to end the same way.

The road ahead still feels long, but you’re learning to let go. Of the doubt that whispered you’d never make it. Of the pain. Of the mistakes and the past that clings to you. Even the scars—the ones you thought would never fade. Letting them go is the only way forward, the only way to move on. Only then can you begin again.

You glance at Beomgyu, his fingers laced with yours, his grip gentle as he leads you out of this place. His head tilts slightly as he looks back at you, and there it is—that boyish, cheeky smile that has the power to make your heart skip.

All you have to do is surrender.

This surrender is not in defeat, but in trust. Trust in him. Trust with his promises. Trust in the hope of something better.

Trust in yourself.

You’ll be okay.

THE END.

taglist: I love you @.beombunni @.lovingbeomgyudayone @.virtaideen @.hyukascampfire @.fancypeacepersona @.bamgeutori @.lilbrorufr @.beomieeeeeeeeeeees @.soobinbunnie5 @.pagelets @.yoseicour @.baekberrie @.blossommi @.younbeanz @.soohashits @.brrytears @.shycreationdreamland @.notevenheretbh1

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taegimood · 4 months ago

Text

— nudes?! (c.bg) ♡

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.2k warnings: mention/description of reader’s nudes, beomgyu imagines Doing Things and gets hard, implication of sexy time at the end, they’re both horny for each other synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

masterlist

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beomgyu is often not too hard to read.

your goofy best friend who'd rather cause mischief than let a situation turn boring, who loves to stir things up and watch the chaos unfold around him.

but one thing that you just can't seem to get a grasp on... is how he really feels about you.

as well as you can confidently say that you know choi beomgyu, the never-ending mixed signals he throws at you may just be your downfall in that department, from the outrageous flirting towards you on one end of the spectrum to the bragging of his latest phone number acquirement on the other.

i mean, what are you supposed to think when he's sweetly tucking your hair behind your ear one second and then commenting on how pretty that passing girl is the next? (unbeknownst to you, he's actually just trying to gauge your reaction).

but at this point you've had enough of the guessing games. you're gonna take things into your own hands and find out exactly how he really feels.

...or at least... that's what you told yourself, when you'd laid out across your sheets and took those coy little pictures, fully nude and fully ready to "accidentally" send them to your best friend to see what he would do;

but now, you release a resigned sigh as you set your phone aside untouched and tug your — his — sweater further over your shoulders in the chilly air of your room.

"stupid beomgyu," you grumble. "stupid me... stupid idea."

your lost confidence seems to mock you as your phone suddenly buzzes with a text from none other than the exact man of the hour, and you huff as you read it.

— hellspawn 🙄🤎: i'm coming over

his contact name feels as fitting as ever. "right, just invite yourself on in," you mutter to yourself (as if that's not exactly what the two of you always do anyways).

you have half a mind to respond with something snarky, but instead you just leave it be as you stare down at the nudes still sitting hauntingly unsent in your end of the message box, and with a shiver you resort to sticking your tongue out at his contact picture and leaving the text unanswered as you punch the air in a mini fit and toss your phone away into your pillows.

"i hate boys."

and with that, you grouchily trudge your way into the living room to start up the show that you've been binging together, phone and pictures forgotten.

unfortunately.

because what you don't know, but what you're soon about to find out, is just how crazy your best friend actually is about you — and as beomgyu stands frozen outside of your apartment building, staring down at his phone with a short-circuiting brain and eyes growing blurred from lack of blinking in the chilly night air, convenience store bag full of snacks falling forgotten to the ground — well.

he didn't even buy a lottery ticket, but it seems he's just won.

your naked body glows back at him from his screen as he fumbles back into motion, urging his fingers to remember their own mobility as he gulps and swipes hungrily through the array of photos that you'd sent.

hurriedly he brushes his long hair out of his eyes as it falls forward, his hunched frame in the middle of the sidewalk probably resembling that of a homeless man as he holds his phone close, shielding the sight of you from any prying eyes (there are none) while his thoughts suddenly erupt into every possible direction.

is this really happening? is this real life? what does this mean? is this a confession? she obviously wants me too, then, right? shit, should i have dressed better? do i smell okay? should i run back home and — oh god, what if these were meant for someone else? did she really mean to send them? what if she never speaks to me again? oh god, she's so.. she's so.. holy fuck.

beomgyu is breathless as his eyes roam across your soft skin, your pretty curves, the sly hint of a smirk peeking from your lips as your finger slips between them —

he feels his cock straining tighter against his pants the longer that he scrolls.

relishing in the sight that he's been dreaming of for so long, he imagines it were his hand wrapped gently around your throat instead of your own, his fingers caressing your bare tits and sliding down beyond the camera where his imagination is left to run wild — fuck, he's gotta get up there.

forcing himself to tear his eyes away, he quickly gathers the scattered snacks and stuffs them mindlessly back into their convenience store bag as he hurries towards the entrance of your building, not even needing to think twice as he inputs the code and all but lunges for the elevator.

"alright, be cool, be cool, be cool."

the deep breaths he's been taking and mini self pep talk he's been mumbling all but crumble away meaningless when he types in your apartment's passcode and opens the door to see you standing there by the couch wearing his sweater, so big on you that it's easy to pretend that your little pair of shorts underneath aren't even there;

and he's suddenly grateful for the long length of his hair as he feels the way his ears burn red underneath, but the inevitable flush on his face doesn't escape your notice as you glance up at him for a moment before turning your attention back to the tv remote in your hand.

"why do you look like you just ran a fucking marathon?" you scoff. "did the ahjumma downstairs hit you with her grocery bag again?"

but beomgyu is far beyond saving as images of you underneath him flicker across his mind, now no longer fueled by his imagination but by the real thing that you'd just graced him with minutes before.

"those for me?"

you pause. his voice is raspy, strained, almost breathless.

you glance back up at him. your brows pull together in confusion.

"huh?"

beomgyu barely breaks eye contact with you as he unlocks his phone, wordlessly holding it up to show you, eyes raking over your face for your reaction;

the remote falls to the floor with a thunk as your eyes widen and hands fly up to clap over your mouth in shock.

what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck- I SENT THEM?!?!

you rip your eyes away from the sight of your own body on his screen to meet his burning stare, and when you do — all excuses fizzle away as a shiver runs along your spine and straight down to your core.

the desire pooled in your best friend's eyes is unlike any look you've ever seen on him before, breaths coming out labored from his chest though he tries to control them; and when he takes a step forwards and asks again, voice deep and words punctuated,

"were those for me?"

you're nothing but a goner as you answer him with shaky legs and a nod.

the triumphant grin that spreads across beomgyu's blushing face is downright sinful as his bag of snacks once again meets a forgotten fate on the ground — along with his jacket that he immediately shrugs off of his shoulders, already reaching for the hem of his sweatshirt as he moves towards you with well-mustered boldness and says,

"should've waited for me, sweetheart. we could’ve taken them together.”

──────────────────────

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hyukascampfire · 7 months ago

Text

𝓐T 𝓢WA𝓝 𝓛AKE ﹐､﹒ c.bg ˏˋ੭ꠥ ¸ˎ

as both equals and opposites, white swan and black swan, it is paramount that you and choi beomgyu do not touch. the curse of your natures did not even make exception for incidental brushes. that was never an issue for you—not until the day the prince took it upon himself to break every rule you’d ever known. ⋆˛ ˛

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

⸉⋆ ᧔ 🦢᧓ ･ 10.3k

𝒫airings ˒ black swan prince!beomgyu 𝓍 white swan princess!reader

𝒢 ‎⍪ smut ˒ fantasy ˒ forbidden romance

𝒲arnings ˒ smut, angst and longing, unprotected sex, lots of teasing, jealousy…, yearning and yearning, he cums on her, theyre both desperate, pathetically in love!beomgyu, shes all he wants, virgin!reader, loss of innocence, he talks her through it, he gets a little whiny… hmm i can’t remember if i’m missing anything. this is not proofread!! i’m gonna nap first.

✎୭ ashlynn's note @hmusunoo … baby you did your big one with this. i can not explain to you how excited i’ve been for this one. this is absolutely my favorite. it’s just so me, u know me so well and i think we should kiss. THANK U!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Around you, mist and delicate flurries sit over white, fluffy blankets. Where it sits over the lake, it turns the horizon of the lake’s expanse into an obscured uncertainty. If you hadn’t spent so much time right here, you might think that it goes on forever.

It’s a beautiful, clear winter’s morning. Sparkling air wraps you in sweet and crisp tendrils, every breath to your lungs almost bitingly fresh. But in all its lightness, your chest only feels heavier. You had hoped that coming here would be a little, momentary respite. The air is so free around you, though, the weight doesn’t float away with it—it just leaves nothing but the feeling for you to contend with. No skittish wildlife rustle the foliage, and a thin film holds the crystalline lake from lapping at the bank. It seems that not even the wind moves. Just you.

It’s not your tears that you hide here. Sadness is a soft, gentle thing; an acceptable thing for a Lady like yourself to indulge in. It’s what the people expect of their princess. The demure and always prim White Swan. Always correct, always just how you should be.

Your tears are more like scalding, molten licks of fire than the slow, darling tears that are expected of you, though. They’re angry. It clashes up against the walls you’ve built up within yourself, against the role you’ve assumed.

That’s why you’ve come here. Coarser emotions are unbecoming of you, and it’d be a shame to feel them in front of others. It’s a shame that you’re letting yourself feel it now, even. You summon a thin sigh, funneling up all the tangy bitterness on your tongue to let it fall out into the air before you.

It doesn’t do much for you, really. This—feeling like this, so beyond the reach of your usual ways to shove down ugliness—is unfamiliar. Your entire life has been this, why do you struggle with it now? In the center of you, mingling with that anger, it’s as though a blackness blooms. Like a wretched flowering of some invasive plume, or perhaps the floating of inky black feathers through your bloodstream, you feel painted dark and unpleasant.

Holding the dappled fur of your shawl closer, you decide to watch chunks of crystal white ice float on the water’s surface. Or maybe the on-and-off snowflakes that float down around you. Even tracing the lengths of barren branches, lined with white fluff so still and serene, with your eyes. Anything but delving into what that tainted tug inside is, or what it might mean about you.

Snow crunches, or maybe a branch shifting, beckons your attention. But the foliage isn’t too thick, and trees are sparse around the lake, and there is always some small winged creature fluttering between branches out here. So, you brush it off.

A tingling about your person, some sort of whispering premonition, whisps and tugs just around your form. You straighten up at another thick step crunching in the snow from behind you. This time, you can’t explain it away.

A figure greets you. Dark, raven strands of silken hair fallen over eyes of the same, his skin so stark against it, black shoulder cloak on his shoulder flowing like velvet water against his billowing sleeves all ruffled and enamoring. He glitters like the frost, twinkling silver threads and black crystals sewn in to catch the light and make a show of him. Standing there, looking at you, he doesn’t look caught or frozen.

But you are. Wholly still, all of you like a sculpture of frost, you gawk right at him. You’d never interacted with the prince, the black swan. Never even seen him. It was never in the cards. Fear like ice curls clawed fingers over your heart and grasps it.

All your life, grand warnings of terrible things of him and what might happen should the two of you ever touch fell from the mouths of those around you. It was the constitution of who the two of you are—born to be the balance to each other, never to touch. Just an incidental brushing of fingers meant turning the world’s balance over on its head. They told you that the world would begin to fray at the seams, reality would warp, and that it’d be all your fault. And they also told you plenty about who the prince was as a person, too. Not only do you fear him for the curse of your nature, but also for all the nasty things you’ve heard of him. This, meeting him, was a thing of your deepest-cutting nightmares.

And, there, he stands in front of you.

“What are you doing out here crying?” Beomgyu says, curious eyes darting over your face. Under his gaze, you’re not sure how to feel. But you feel every last bit of it, regardless.

You wipe at your cheek, where he must’ve seen the wet streaks glistening in the light. Summoning some poise up from where you keep it in handy, you say, “It’s no matter. I was just looking out on the snow.” You fix up your hair and your dress.

The prince frowns, studying your face once again. Utterly unconvinced by what he finds there, he gestures toward you. “You’ve been crying, princess,” he says. “I didn’t think that lying was in the cards for you.”

Lying? Not in the cards for you? Lying is all you do. You lie to yourself and to others more than you are honest. “Maybe, but I’m well,” you say, and then you lift the soft skirts of your dress to step without treading it in the snow. “Really, I ought to get home before the snowfall gets heavier. It was lovely seeing you.” You try and make sure to keep a good and proper distance from him as you make for where you arrived here from.

Beomgyu reaches out for you, only pulling back from grabbing your arm at a frighteningly slim realization. “Wait,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he realizes what he’d almost just done. “You don’t have to leave. Why is it that you cry?”

He’d almost touched you. That close—you’d come that close to tragedy in only the first moments of your meeting. Your heart pumps out sizzling, frantic energy that has you looking at him wide-eyed and shaken. “I think you and I both are the most aware why it’s best that I leave,” you tell him, keeping it curt. You hold your arms to you.

Strong brows knitting, he shakes his head and takes some big steps back. The snow, sat powdery and calf-high on the ground, creaks beneath them. “I’ll stay back here,” he says. “Just don’t go. Won’t you entertain me? It’s a gentleman’s duty to help a weeping Lady.”

You falter. The words might have you blushing and offering him a modest thank you, but the way he says it—it’s rather taunting. It’s taunting in a way that gets right up under your skin and ruffles your feathers. “And why does it bother you so?” you ask him, arching a dainty brow. You’re not even sure why he’s come out here in the first place. This is the one place that you ordain your own. It seems that not even here can you be totally alone. “They’ll have a fit if they know I was here with you.”

The prince, with his clear, ethereal features cracking into a wicked amusement that you’re not sure how to digest, says, “Perhaps they will.” He tilts his head at you, wispy strands of hair moving over his shadowed eyes with it. “But, princess, that’s the fun in it. That they will admonish you for it. Is that why you’re crying?”

Fun? Nothing about what your people, your parents, might do should they find that you’d not only been near but spoken to the black swan, is fun. You level him wary eyes. And, though sense tugs at your feet and asks you to get going, you do not. You do not know why.

“I think it is.” He’s got an obnoxious tilt to his lips. “I think that’s why you cry.”

A scoff, an abrasive and distasteful sound coming from you, falls out from your mouth. There’s that awful imprudence and temerity that you’ve heard of the black swan—everything you ought not to be. “You seem the type to know everything,” you say.

He laughs, delighted. “Is that snark?”

Pursing your lips as though confused, you spin spiced threads of patronization into your voice. “Not snark,” you say. “Just an observation.”

“Hmm.” Beomgyu slides his hands into his pockets to warm his hands. “Might I make an observation about you, princess?”

There’s interest written all over his face—you know he’s playing some sort of game. You also know that you shouldn’t indulge him in it. Still, you do. A slight raising of your brow, or maybe the interest twinkling in your eyes, too, tells him to go on.

“I think that you are too dutiful for your own good,” he says.

In a slight, testy step, he inches closer. Not so close that you worry, but the two of you are not even supposed to be in the same room. Anything is too close. You mirror it with a step back. “You don’t know me,” you say. Against your better judgement, though, your lips twitch into a soft smile. The kind of smile that is insistent, no matter how you refuse it. “So, I believe your wonderings to be entirely groundless.”

Hair blowing gently in the wisps of a winter wind and his nose and cheeks gone pink, he says, “Oh, princess. Hardly. I think we know a great deal about each other.”

Well, that’s true enough. All your life you heard of him and your curse. You’re sure it was no different for him, no matter your differences. “And what do you know about me?” you ask.

Beomgyu’s laugh falls out in a white puff of curling frost. “I know it’s been arranged that you’ll marry a superior Lord,” he says. He observes you. “Am I right?”

So fast, just with that, lightness falls from your face. You hadn’t wanted to be reminded. Your feet itch to be off, so that you can feel it elsewhere. Not here; not in front of him. Leveling yourself so that your voice doesn’t come out as stilted as you feel, you say, “Yeah. You are.”

With his eyes narrowing on you, he says, “You know, it’s weird. I’ve never seen a girl excited to be wedded look like that when it’s brought up.”

You reign in your face and shake your head. “I am perfectly excited. It’s a blessing to be married into such a family.” As much as you smooth over the furrowing of your brows, or make your expression pleasant, it’s not so easy to tame the picking of your fingers.

Anything other than excited, you might be. But absolutely not that. In fact, you are beyond yourself with anger, and you have nowhere to go with it. It bubbles hot just under your skin and demands a release that you cannot give.

Being who you are, it’s been a truth you’ve known your whole life. Someday, you were going to be offered like a shiny, silver pawn to the highest bidder. And you, as the world’s white swan, are quite the enticing thing to own. You thought you’d banished the hope for a union of love right where you’d left the sense of self behind: years ago. The time’s come now, but you aren’t as at peace with it as you should be. No matter how hard you try, you are more human than you’d like to be, and far too human to be what the world expects you to be.

If you’re going to be frank with yourself: you do not want to marry him. Living as something bought, expected to live forever as this mellowed out, poised version of yourself by the side of some man who you don’t even know or love... Of any fate you might be made to live, you think that this one is the worst.

Beomgyu begins working on taking off his jacket, a white and pretty thing with thick, winter fabric. He offers it to you. “You don’t have to lie to me about it. Maybe them, but not me.”

You look between him and his offering hand—his perfect features that are so elegant, and yet, there’s a wildness to him in those hard black eyes. If you didn’t already know so much about him, you might still be able to see the untamed in him. Who couldn’t? He wears it plainly; without remorse. You’re not sure how to interact with it, but, in a way, you envy him.

Reaching out, you accept the jacket from his hand. Tentatively, with great care so as to avoid touch, but you do.

It’s nice and soft against your frost-kissed shoulders. But it’s not enough to fix the bite against the skin on your face, so you trudge through the snow over to the sparse tree line, where the trunks might protect you better from it than the flat expanse of the lake’s surface. You press your back to a tree, and he mirrors it on the tree opposite to you. Looking over the great lake, so very serene. It twinkles with an ice film like sugar crystals atop its surface. “I guess I’m just... scared,” you say. The words come out soft and uncertain.

He nods. Listening. So, you continue. “I don’t even know him. I haven’t spoken to my betrothed once. Maybe I’ll get to know him, and maybe he won’t be bad, but...”

“But he’s not who you want,” Beomgyu says. “Not who you love.”

Licking your winter-chapped lips, you eye him for a moment. You nod slowly and say, “...Yeah. I suppose it’s selfish, but...”

Ignited, Beomgyu pushes off the tree to say, “Selfish? You give your whole life to being their saint. Maybe they think they do, but they don’t own you.”

You, not us. Frowning, you ask him, “Are you not set for some marriage of convenience?” Marrying is different as a woman, but you don’t doubt that the prince’s family intends to strengthen alliances by offering his marriage up to some optimistic, lesser family with a daughter to bargain the way yours has done with you. Every last girl and boy born as you two have been—destined to a life bigger than yourself, a force in the world as much as you are a person—have lived just the same. All of them. Each incarnation of the white swan, and you’re sure every black swan too. The people of this world paint you as embodiments of balance and life, but use you more like power plays. Even your own parents. You were born from your mother all the same as all your siblings, but as much as it aches to admit it, you are not their child. In the back of your throat, hurt and bare anger wells up thick.

He half laughs, half scoffs. “They could try. It doesn’t matter to me. They’d have to kill me before I do their bidding. Is it our fault that we were born this?” he says. “I’m going to live my life how I want, no matter what.”

You tuck your hands into your sides, where they warm between the jacket and your body heat. His words and how he looks at your lives, it’s everything you’re not. Sense of self and determination to live for more than just your predetermined role—while you’d surrendered it all, he lives thrashing and fighting against it. A product of your mirrored and opposite natures.

“Why?” you say, teeth chattering a bit under the cold’s caress. “You have a girl in mind?”

That sounds nice. Being so hopefully devoted to someone, and them to you, that you might war against destiny for it. The thought only nurses hurt somewhere deep in your chest, though. Not for you. Never for you. You could be the prettiest on this Earth, the kindest, the most disciplined, or the least even. Still, that would never be yours. You know that, so why does it taste so bitter?

A quick look, something new, passes over him. In his eyes, you see it. He looks at you for a long minute, the morning so quiet that nothing but tranquility hangs in the air for a moment, and then finally says, “Yeah. Something like that.”

Entirely intrigued, you ask, “Who? Is she a Lady?”

Beomgyu nods his head, that strange look lingering. “Of sorts,” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest to lean back into the bark. “And your betrothed? Some well-off Lord?”

A smile ghosts over your mouth. “Probably. I haven’t a clue who it is; but I’m sure he’s got enough coin to spare, if my parents settled on him.”

The lines of his face gone playful, he says, “Not possibly more well-off than me.”

Your nose crinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say. A husband with money is nice. You can’t pretend that you don’t think of that, especially that none of your family’s wealth belongs to you, nor will it follow you into your marriage. Your heart revolts regardless.

Shrugging after a few beats of silent considering, he turns his attention on the lake. His face turned like that, you admire the straight slope of his nose and his eyelashes as they flutter with his heavy eyes. Like the rest of him, his side profile is a contradiction. Strong and noble, but elegant like hewn from marble. It’s perfect. With all the talk in your ears, you’d pictured something far off from the youthful, wry man stood before you. Why you’d come to imagine him brutish, you’re not sure; he’s as much swan as you. Different and mirrored all the same.

“I used to come here all the time,” he says.

“Here? To the lake?” You perk up. This had been your hideaway as a girl; where you’d come at times like this when you needed to bury something away. You thought it’d been just yours. “I wonder how we never ran into each other. I used to do the same. I guess, I still do.”

When his eyes fall back on you, they’re softer. More deep brown than black, but maybe it’s because you’re closer now. He says, “Well, I came here once or twice on my own, maybe when I was five. I didn’t really start coming back until I saw you. You were crying, all snotty, and throwing bread out for some ducks.”

Your face twists up, maybe at the memory or maybe with confusion. It seems like if he’d really come here so often, and had even seen you here, you’d have noticed. “You must have thought I was weird,” you say, the words coming out around a shiver.

“Maybe,” he says through a wry smile that’s cracked over his lips. “But mostly, I just wished I could talk to you.”

He’d watched you, because he couldn’t approach you? You were under the impression that the prince had never cared for the rules, not even one so paramount as that. But, it seems that his brashness came to him later. He stands in front of you now, doesn’t he? Maybe it was just that innocent trust that, as children, you levy out to those arounds you. Especially toward adults; and all of those had preached over moments like this. You imagine a young, curious Beomgyu, hiding himself away between bushes, itching to approach or play with you. But he never did; you hadn’t the slightest clue he’d even been there until now. Could you two have been friends, if not for the curse?

“You never came out,” you say. “Or introduced yourself?” It’s all you can really think.

His mouth twitches. “Would you have stayed?”

No. Then, you don’t think you would’ve. Even now, you’re stricken with the innate fear of touching him, no matter how surprised you are at how different he is. Different from what they said he’d be. You think you would’ve darted, should you have known who he was. For some reason, that makes your heart ache. A dark ebbing wave of ache that you are unfamiliar with.

A slight knowing smile danced over his features, eyes gone to sweet crescents that turn them, usually so dark, into something rounded. Not so abrasive. He tilts his head off to one side and says, “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?”

Cheeks long been numb, you answer, “An hour. Maybe and a half?”

“I’ll walk you home.”

You grimace. Arriving with him by your side, the man you quite literally were not supposed to even speak with, is the very last thing you should do. An awful idea. “I wouldn’t bother you. It’s probably not the best idea to show up after disappearing, with a man by my side. Especially not as a to-be-married woman,” you say. “But, thank you. Really.”

He knows what you really mean, though. A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Alright,” he says. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

As he begins to turn, making for wherever he’d come here from, you call out to him. “Hey, wait. Your jacket.” You pull it off your shoulders and joust it out at him. Against your skin which it had warmed, the air is bitterly cold.

“Keep it, princess,” he says, giving you a parting nod. “Get home warm.”

Today, you are to give your hand to a man that you do not know.

In the air, the rich nuttiness of fire-toasted chestnuts dance and mingle with the roar of chatter. Hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces line long tables with runners decorated by platters of plump, sugar-dusted plums and fruit pies. They’ve all come in their winter’s best—whites and reds and luxurious furs lining thick, velvety fabrics or embroidered with sparkling threads and studded with crystals that twinkle in the low firelight. It’s warm and lovely and all just for you.

But, you don’t feel any of that. All you feel is a heavy belly. Each smile you tug over your mouth feels like dead weight. You’re familiar with this—putting on the act. Smiling in faces that you know will turn around and have something else to say about you, pretending like you don’t know that it’s all false sweetness. You’d been trained in noble propriety since you could walk and talk.

But, considering that they’ve all come here to shower you with gifts and lovely words for a marriage in which they could really not care about beyond how they make it a profit, it’s all a bit more sour.

You’ve met your promised. The man you’re supposed to wed and spend the entirety of your life beside. You spoke with him for... what, two minutes? Two very awkward, very awful minutes. What should you have to say to each other? You’re meeting for the first time today. At your engagement feast. It’s a real conscious effort to not take your lip into your mouth and gnaw, or to not fuss over your hair, or honestly anything that might show these people that you are anything but pleased.

So, you relent to their gaudy pleasantries. You listen to them tell you that it’s such a blessing to be married to a man of high society—and a wealthy one, too. They tell you that they knew your marriage would bring a great dowry; that all the white swans have. That they were watching and expecting it. All you hear is the dripping of greed; all you see is hungry eyes and fingers crossed behind backs.

You relent to it until your stomach is sick and wrought with it. And then, the older lady ahead of you singing praises of your beauty, of how she wishes her daughter might catch the eye of a husband as advantageous as yours, does something out of the ordinary. Her eyes drift behind you, her snooty, pinched features twisting up into something new. You follow her gaze.

Dark and beautiful and his eyes trained right on you, the black swan prince stands beside you. He’s lazed, a heavy cup of some thick, spiced and wintery drink in one hand, as he does. In the clear light of morning, he’d looked so out of place. But here, soft and hard planes of his face illustrated by the flickering orange firelight, he looks so right.

You blink. And then blink again. Never once had Beomgyu made any sort of appearance at any hosted thing by your family. You just stand in place for a moment, registering his presence.

“You look lovely, princess,” he says. His eyes fall up and down you. The way he says it—it’s liquid smooth, but it’s taunting in a way. “The perfect image of a bride-to-be.”

He can’t be here. He can’t be here at all. When you look to the side, the woman is already gone. You have no doubt in your mind that she’s whispering in somebody’s ear right now.

“Prince,” you say, gritting your teeth while also dipping into an elegant curtsy.

“Do you feel that way?” He raises his eyebrows at you, his gaze heavy with underlying tension. “A perfect bride? Happy?”

Making the conscious decision to not look around you, because you can already feel the burning interest of the eyes that you’ll find on you, you say, “I do. Isn’t this quite the feast?”

“I told you that you don’t have to lie to me, princess.”

You shouldn’t even be standing here talking to him. They’re all watching. Stepping back to cut conversation with something witty, you stop in the onslaught of a chorus of surrounding gasps.

Beomgyu had reached out to grab you, and only stopped himself short the same way he had the first time you met him. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he brings his hand down, curling the fingers as if to wash away the urge to reach out.

He’s closer now, too. His breath smells sickly sweet with the liqueur he drinks. A sarcastic grin over his lips, he says, “Did he pay for all this?”

You do a dance of give and take. You step back, and he meets it with a step toward you, all the way until you find yourselves in a quieter corner. “He did sponsor the feast, yes.”

“Well, isn’t that just great,” he says, voice carrying over the many layered sounds of the gathering. “And that makes you happy? You feel fulfilled by that? Is that the purpose of the lovely white swan?”

You’re not sure what he’s getting at, or why your marriage is any of his business. For some reason, though, despite those rational thoughts, some faraway memory whispers that it makes every bit of sense. “He is a lovely man.”

Barking a laugh, Beomgyu says, “Don’t make me laugh. You don’t believe that, no matter how many times you tell it to yourself.”

You curl your fingers into the obnoxious, glittering material of your dress. “Seriously, what makes you so sure?” you say. “What makes you so sure you know? This is good for me. This is the way things are supposed to go. Not everybody in this world can get away with serving only themselves and doing whatever they want. Maybe it works for you, but not for the rest of us. I’m glad your life is fun, though. Really.”

His face doesn’t sharpen into offence, though you brace for him to. You’ve never spoken to anybody like that. Ever. Shaking his head, raven locks glowing warm around the edges, he says, “Because I know. I know. Are you listening to me? You don’t have to lie to me.”

Balking at him, you don’t know how to answer. That was nowhere near the answer you were expecting from the prince, known and notorious for his chaos and fire.

“I am listening,” you say, keeping your voice measured. Thick emotion slips through the seams. “Honesty has never done me any good. This is going to happen; all honesty is going to do is hurt me. So, I’m sorry.”

His mouth opens to fire something back, but you don’t hear it. Somebody digs their fingers into your upper arm, dragging you without a word away from your conversation. You stumble, letting them take you without a fuss. This was to be expected. You shouldn’t look back. If today was already going to be the last day you ever see him, it certainly is now that you’ve been caught not only in touching distance to him, but making conversation with him.

Tossing a self-betraying glace over your shoulder, you find his figure. Hand in pocket and his lips turned down, he watches you go.

You wish you wouldn’t have. You have no explanation for the emptiness it casts into your chest.

Recently, you’ve been crying so much. You might believe that it’s because you’ve been letting yourself feel freely, but you don’t feel free.

Your palms are soaked against your cheeks, face fallen into them as you shudder with it. Their words pin and scrape in your head, forcing you to contend with them before bouncing off the walls and you hear them again and again until your stomach has gone sick. Your parents had given you an earful. That’s been your whole life; you can handle that. The moment you saw him there, intending to speak to you, you’d prepared for it. Instead, it was their contempt and sneering faces that bleed your heart like this.

In this life, you are alone. Totally, wholly alone. Who you are—your role in life—is not the blessing they claim it to be. Is it selfish to ask to be understood? For somebody to just understand, without your pleading or begging?

Maybe. It feels that way, anyway.

“Why is it that I always find you crying?”

His voice freezes you to where you sit sprawled on your floor. Spinning to him, you say, “What are you doing?”

Beomgyu shrugs, as though he hasn’t snuck his way into your room. “I felt bad for getting you dragged off. Wanted to come see how you’re doing.”

Maybe his insisting on being around you should be annoying, but right now… You think you appreciate the company, even from the forbidden likes of him. “You can’t be here,” you hiss. “How did you get in? They’ll… if they find you here…”

His boots squeak against the polished flooring as he approaches you, and then settles down on the floor with you. The fire flickering behind him, his back to it, casts an orange light around the edges of his figure. He looks terribly inviting, like this: strewn on the floor, no holier or better than you, his face not sickly sweet nor cold and devoid of love, and his eyes curious to know how you feel.

“I don’t care what they’ll do to me. I want to see you.” He tugs his jacket off, letting it fall on the dirty floor. Improper for a prince, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. That’s who he’s always been—that’s the one thing that was entirely true out of all the things you heard about him. “Who the hell cares about their approval? We don’t need it.”

You know what he means by they and we. Only a few days ago, you’d still believed that Beomgyu was other; that he was your total opposite, and that you should fear his darkness for all your lightness. All it’s taken is being around him the once or twice that you’ve been able to for you to realize the falsity that drips from that. When you’re around him, your soul, feathery and wispy in your chest and your veins and all the rest of you that constitutes you beyond what is physical, tugs. It’s impossible to ignore—it consumes you. Where your soul longs for him around the edges, like torn and searching for what’s been lost, you feel stuff that is beyond yourself.

Rather than your opposite, you think that Beomgyu is your other half. You think that they’ve gotten it all wrong.

“How do you do it?” you say, back up against a white, whorling table leg. “How do you not care? I don’t understand.”

Inky eyes shining, he says, “I did. When I was young, I believed everything they told me. It’s hard not to, when it’s all you hear. Them, telling us that our purpose is to surrender ourselves to be something Saint-like. But when you catch one lie, you begin to catch the others, too. I saw their excuses and reasonings peel. Princess, it’s all lies. Everything you know is lies.” He says it with such conviction. Each and every word reaches down into that part of yourself that is missing something. “We’re not their Saints. That’s never been our purpose. I hate that shit; I hate that they’ve made you think that this is all you’re for. Marrying him? Never doing anything, because you’re scared of what it’ll mean for you? It’s not fucking fair.” He pushes himself closer to you. Now, your criss crossed knees are so close that a stray move might mean the world’s end. This time, you don’t panic. There’s no room for that among the swarm of your other thoughts. “So, of course I don’t give a shit about what they tell me to do. I’m going to live this life the way that it’s supposed to be. I wish that you could join me.”

“This life?” you blurt. It’s the one thought that appears clear to you, so it’s what comes out. Frowning, you add, “What lies?”

Deadpanned and as though he’s not delivering something that changes the world’s fabric around you, Beomgyu says, “There is no curse. There’s never been a curse.”

Your room is silent for a few moments, and then you shake your head and laugh. “How would you know that?” you say, nose wrinkling. If you don’t laugh, you’ll begin to actually consider the possibility of that. Just the very surface of the notion makes you nauseous. You couldn’t handle exploring the thought deeper.

Beomgyu doesn’t laugh along with you. “The curse is a lie, and everything that comes with it. All of it is just excuses or justification for the hate for the other people. The whole reason that they ever decided on it was because of their hate. Maybe to the people alive now, it’s not a lie. But that’s what it started as.” His face, dark and soft as he reads your face, twists up. “Of course, we can touch. We are two halves of a whole. There is you in me, and I in you. Do you not feel it? The tug? That’s it. The black swan and the white swan were never meant to be apart and opposite. We are meant to be together. We’re meant to be the only ones that understand each other. It’s us against the world, princess.”

Your ears ring with the pierce of each word cascading out from his mouth. “Beomgyu, I don’t understand. That doesn’t… Make sense. How?” He can’t just make claims about that. Not something like this. It’s not fair.

“I know it’s hard to believe, princess. It’s all you’re ever made to believe. But you have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

Tongue darting out to wet your lips and your fingers stilling where you fuss at the fabric of your chemise, you take a good look at him. Roaming over his features, the contradiction in them and the strange familiarity that constitutes him no matter the fact that you’ve only just met, you consider it. Everything he says is absurd, and it does go against everything you’ve ever known. You should turn your nose up at him for even suggesting it; should suspect that he only has some sort of plan to coax you into bringing the world’s end.

But, you do. You trust him beyond explanation, as though intrinsically.

You nod slowly, holding his eyes in yours. “But I don’t understand,” you say. “How do you know?”

He smiles ruefully. “I saw something—had a dream when I was young. I saw us, in every last lifetime. We have lived again and again, as we are, in so many different ways. But the one thing that was always there was that they couldn’t keep us away from each other.”

The world does a few spins around you. Lightheaded, you try to stay up under the oppressive gravity of that. You want to stick your head in the ground and shake your head and yell no, but that deep tugging that has plagued you beginning the moment you’d met him, and all the emptiness before it, tells you yes.

How poetic is that? How tragic? You, two souls born to be one, made to live apart at the interests of the world around you. Made to do it across every lifetime, and yet, in each you meet. In each, the twinkling thread of fate prevails nevertheless.

“Do they all love?”

That soft smile still playing on his lips, his cheek to his knee as he looks at you with the veneration of somebody who might’ve loved you in a thousand lifetimes before, and perhaps in this one, too. “No. Some of us were secret lovers, but so many of those lived how you do for the entirety of their life. Halved,” he says. “And never did any of them touch.”

Heart fluttering with wings in your chest, you say, “So, how do you know that the curse is a lie? If it’s never been done before?”

“Let me show you,” he says. “That I can touch you.”

All the blood in your body pulls back. You trust him; you do. But is trust enough to risk a touch that could be the end of the world? Is trust enough to be so selfish to do so?

Seeing you blanch, Beomgyu’s eyes go glassy. “Please,” he says, voice breaking as if to touch you might mean more than just proving something to you. As if the weight of everything he’s ever wanted rests on the back of it working—that if this works, and the world does not fall apart around you, then he can love you how he does, and how he had so many times before. Inevitably. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Beomgyu,” you say, looking between his eyes and the twitch of his hand as it itches to touch you. “I don’t… I’m scared.” Your voice drops to nothing more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he says, bringing that longing hand up. Your heart jumps when he raises up by your face. “You can be selfish this once. I want to see you do something because you want to, not because it’s what you think others might want.”

Your throat burns and tightens. Every last sparkling bit of your being longs to lean into his touch—to do what you two have wanted to do so many times before, and finally bring your souls back together. “What if it happens?” you ask, your eyes soft and true like an animal turning its soft underbelly to receive affection.

“Then let it,” he says. “At least we would have touched. Just this once.”

Gritting your teeth and swallowing hard, your belly does itself up into knots. You don’t answer him, but your quiet speaks enough. His hand hovers beside your face with the weight of the world in it.

The first touch of the white swan and the black swan happens in a gentle cupping of your cheek. And, the world does fall down around you. The walls melt, air leaves, and the seams of everything that’s even been good or true are ripped out and sewn with something new and beautiful. It’s as explosive and cosmic as you imagined it, but it is not terrifying. It’s lovely.

Your breaths shudder, your lungs trembling as you look into his eyes and realize what this means.

“Fuck,” is all Beomgyu breathes. It looks as though that it’s all he can manage. His touch grows more solid as the both of you realize that the both of you are still very much here, and so is the world. Thumb pad grazing over the softness of your cheek, his throat bobs with a swallow. You think that if you were to press your hand over his chest, you might feel it thudding there to the same thunderous rhythm that yours beats to.

So, you do. Because you can touch him. His heart sings beneath your palm, even through fabric and flesh. You can’t help the wobbling of your lip and the hot tears that spill out past your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The second touching is the bringing together of your lips. His mouth is soft and hard against yours, contradictory as the rest of him. He brings his other hand up to hold your face into his kiss. It’s not sweet and slow—it’s as ground-rumbling as the kiss between intertwined souls coming together after an eternity of being away. Each nip and lick and clash of teeth are like the claps of thunder of the storm that will end the world, his hand sliding up the back of your neck to card his fingers through the hair at the back of your head like the claws of a beast sent to ensure its end.

And, maybe Beomgyu is the beast that has come to end the world. You wonder how he’d waited so long to bring the truth to you, or if he was torn about ever telling you. What changed things, after so many years of him watching you from afar? Your engagement? Perhaps that’s what that drink in his hand had been: a thing to forget with.

It hadn’t worked. As he kisses you for all the lifetimes in which you couldn’t, you know that he couldn’t have accepted that and moved on. Of all the black swans that have lived and passed, Beomgyu must be the most stubborn and strong-willed. That’s why, out of every single life, this is the first that you touch. He would take the world on, or play with the existence of it, for this. Just for you. All for you—you’d found somebody who will do something just for you. Curling your fingers into the front of his tunic just over his chest, you pour the fire of that revelation into your kiss.

He roams his hands all over you, mapping your shape. You kiss and kiss, lips tugging and twisting against each other, and still it isn’t enough. Bracing a splayed palm over your lower back, he does not stop kissing you even as he lays you back onto the ground. The flooring is cold against your burning body. He supports his weight on one hand beside your head and straddles your hips to do nothing but run his fingers through your hair and just kiss you.

Only when your lungs are too hungry to ignore does he free your mouth. His soft black hair dangles over his starry eyes as he looks down at you with them. Lips swollen and smeared with you, his chest heaves. Bringing his free hand up, he wipes your wet cheek.

“Oh my god,” you say, breathless. “Beomgyu.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, he laughs. “I like when you call me that. I think I want to make you scream it—scream it until they come breaking down your doors and see that we are each other's. Until your fiancé hears it.”

Body bursting at the seams at the prospect, you nod frantically and dip your face into his neck to dust starry kisses there, too. He shudders. “I want it so bad. Can you please?”

“Of course I can. I’m going to make love to you, okay?” He pushes off you, crawling back so that he’s sat squatted just before your knees as you pin them together. “Open your legs, princess. Show me how pretty you are—I’ve waited so long for it.” He pats on the outer side of your knee.

Thrill spiraling up from between your thighs like sparks, you oblige slowly. You let your legs fall open for him, and choke on your own heart as he begins to slowly work your dress up the expanse of your legs, and then your thighs, baring to him the plush and unseen skin there. He eats it up wildly, his eyes gone ravenous and even blacker.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say, voice trill and unsure. “I don’t know what to do.”

A wicked grin cracks over his features. “I know, princess.” The fabric bunches at your thighs, now. You tremble with the stifling anticipation. “I’m going to take care of you. It’s going to feel so good—I’m gonna make you feel so good. I have so many things I want to do to you. Lifetimes of things I want to make you feel.”

Doe-eyed and laying your trust in his hands, your thighs twitch and you nod. He reveals your cunt at last, finally catching the glistening sight of it for the very first time. And, he does not disappoint. The look that washes over his face—the twitching of his lips, the tightening of his jaw in a flickering muscle, and the fire razing your cunt in his eyes—is something so dreamlike, but lucid nonetheless.

“You just lay down and let me help you. Treat you how a princess should be treated.” He works on his pants, silver belt clinking and then loosening, and then he’s just as exposed as you when his length pops free. It’s hard already, tall and pretty like the rest of him, but pink and obscene at the tip. He leaks from the little slit at the top. “Look at you. You look like you want to taste it,” he says, laughing while collecting the liquid to pump himself a few times. “Next time, baby. I’d love to see the proper mouth of the world’s princess choking on my cock.”

The air is cold against the mess between your legs. It sends a chill up your spine—or maybe that was the crudeness of his words. You suppose you should’ve expected nothing less from him. When he goes to climb back over you and line himself up with you, your thighs twitch and try to snap shut.

He pins your hip to the floor. “Don’t be shy, baby. I wanna see that pretty pussy. It’s not fair to hide it from me.”

“Sorry,” you say, cheeks burning.

Taking that hand and sliding it up behind the back of one of your knees, pressing that thigh up to your torso, he laughs a teasing laugh down at you. “Don’t say sorry,” he says. He holds his length adjacent to your slit and then begins to slip up and down the length of it. “Just let me fuck you. I need it so bad.” He hisses in tandem with you. The drags of his length, harder than how you thought a cock might feel, is like undiluted liquor. “I can’t believe this… shit, princess. I’m about to fuck you. I thought I was going to have to sit here and watch you by his side.”

You take your lip into your teeth when he pushes in. It stretches. You bring your hand up to cup the back of his neck and the other to dig into his tunic, mewling softly.

“It’s okay, princess. Hold on to me, you can take it, right? You cunt was built for me. Everything about you was made for me. Your heart, your pretty hands for me to hold, your sex, all of it. Do you feel how I fit right into you? How I was made to?”

You do. When he finally is balls-deep, his cock nestles exactly where it should. Not an inch too deep or an inch too scarce. The two of you were sculpted by something holy, fit just for each other. “Yes,” you breathe.

He can’t even linger sitting still in you. He begins pulling himself out, all the way until the tip of him threatens to pop out lewdly, before shoving back in right up against that spot. He doesn’t even have to search for it. Head falling into your chest, he licks and bites. “The taste of you,” he says. Then, he presses his tall nose right over that spot in your neck where your heart’s gone wild. “The smell of you.” Wincing, he lays into you with more vigor, hips slapping against your skin. “The feel of you. You drive me up the fucking walls. How was I ever supposed to live without this?” he says. “I refuse.”

Your belly begins to tighten in a way that you’ve never known. Tears prick the corner of your ears, clinging to him as he fucks you into the floor like he’ll never have to opportunity to have you like this again. The wood cradles your back and the back of your hips, receiving each of his thrusts. You curl your toes and will back the lewd cries that threaten to spill over with each.

His voice is taut and wobbly. “Feels good, huh? I know. It feels… so good.” Dropping your thigh to cup your face, he says, “Cry. Cry for me. I said I wanted you to scream.”

Face burning and squirming against the hardwood behind you, you shake your head. “I can’t, gyu…”

“Yes you can,” he says, face twitching. “I want you to start letting it out, or I’m gonna stop. Do you want me to stop?”

Covering your face, with the back of a forearm, you grit your teeth through each punctual and yet sloppy grind up into you. Your bodies sweat and meld, and you’re sure that anybody walking by your quarters would know just by the hollow smacks of skin and grunts that you’re fucking a man. You, an engaged woman, are letting the prince turn your brain inside out.

But, there is nothing you want less than for him to stop. So, you let your mouth drop open and allow the sweet mewls to come with each rut.

“There we go. Louder.” He braces himself, digging his feet into the floor, and then he really starts driving into you. Sparks fly in your belly—each yellow and glowing and scalding. “Do I need to fuck you harder? C’mon, louder, princess.”

Thighs squeezing his hips so tight that they ache, you squirm. You struggle against your sounds—turning from sweet moans and mewls, you groan and gasp and your voice breaks. Each collision of your bodies breaks your sounds.

Curling your fingers into his silken hair, you grit out, “H—hoooh fuck, Beomgyu, Beomgyu, I feel… like…”

Bangs sticky and his eyes growing wilder, he knows something you don’t. The knowing, taunting grin on his mouth says enough. “Let it happen. Don’t fight it. Just stay—stay right there, and I’ll give it to you. No running from it; it’s gonna feel so good.” His muscles go taut, and he doubles down on his efforts, panting through his nose and his neck sheened. He drops his head into your chest. “Fuck. Fuckkkk, I love you so much, princess. Thank you—thank you, so much.”

You don’t know why he’s thanking you. You don’t have the cognitive function to worry about that. Your mind has gone to two things: the growls and whines that rumble and tear from his chest, and the frightening tightness that only goes more dangerous. Your chest tightens—it feels as though, if he feeds that hungry beast gnawing deep down in your belly with any more of what he’s doing now, it will snap and take you down in its wake. Warbled cries crawling up your throat, you arch your back up into his chest to try and dig your hips into the floor, away from the bliss and the power of it.

“No,” he says, cursing. “No—don’t run from it. Don’t… Baby, please take what I’m giving you. It’s gonna be alright.”

Pushing back on the dark throes of the tide as it creeps up over your shoulders and sends shocks through your body, the hair on the back of your neck rising with the effort, you choke. Beomgyu takes a hand down the seam of your bodies and rolls your aching clit. They’re succinct and intentional—pressure right on the sensitive underside, sending your belly rippling as he pairs it with a few more sharp, more meaningful thrusts.

You see white. It’s white and hot. You are the sun, beaming and writhing like stardust. You curve off the floor once more, raking nails down the lengths of his back. Are you even making sound? You don’t know; you can’t hear it past the ringing piercing sharp in your ears. You shake beneath him, cunt gripping him frantically with flutters of your walls.

He grunts, voice strained and shaking as he begins to follow his own release. “Holy shit—look at you. You’re so f-filthy. So pretty, cumming on me.”

You bare each brush of his cock against your still twisting walls, trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your thighs jump and your toes curl, and it’s all too much, but not enough. He needs to come tumbling over the edge right along with you—if he comes with you, it doesn’t seem so hard. You chant his name, smooth voice gone hoarse.

Stilling inside you, he whines, “Shi—it.” A war wages behind his eyes for a long second before he slips his cock from you with a wet, squelching pop, strings of your release breaking as he lays his cock on your belly. His stomach goes tight, and with one last slide of his length, slick with your mess and staining your belly, his cock jumps. He shoots all over your skin, pretty glistening spurts like ribbons a milky white.

He sits back on his haunches, slowly rubbing himself off to give you some more and come down. Your room is quiet now, aside from your heaving chests and the buzz of something new in the air. Letting his head fall back, wet strands of spiky black hair dangle around his neck, a bead of sweat catching light as it rolls down it.

“Feel okay?” he says, looking down on you with softened eyes. He pulls cloth from his pocket, unfolding the fine fabric, and he wipes himself off your belly.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, leaning into the palm he cups your cheek with. “I’m okay.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The world didn’t explode, did it?” he says.

You share a stolen laugh with him, feeling every last honey wave receding from the spot between your thighs. The world hadn’t ended, and yet, in every way, it had. Savoring the abated rises and falls of his chest and the content sagging of his shoulders, your belly tightens anew.

What happens now, when everything else has been a lie? When you don’t believe that you can survive that lie for any longer?

So many hands work on you. One of your ladies in waiting laces you up in the back, and another works on your hair even while you stand, and one bounces a wintry, snow-kissed rouge over the plush of your cheeks.

Yesterday, your world changed. And today, you’re expected to go on living in it.

When Beomgyu slipped out from your room last night after hours of holding each other under the covers, indulging in your ability to touch, you let your heart crack in two. You shouldn’t have. Why had you let yourself think that it was going to end up anything other than like this? You, getting prettied up to be sent away with your expecting husband, and the dreams you’d let build up to the clouds in the prince’s arms all shattered on the floor at your feet.

What else can you do? Loving Beomgyu freely is out of the question. Your parents would laugh right in your face, or maybe lock you away and make even more sure that you never get to see him again.

You try to burn the image of his eyes into your memory. Black, big and round and cunning all the while. You commit the broadness of his shoulders, and the pretty straight line of his nose in profile, and the pink plushness of his lips, and the little freckles you’d discovered yesterday, and the sound of his voice in your ear, and the feel of his touch on your skin, too.

“We’ll leave you until it’s time to come collect you,” a Lady says, bowing at the waist to you as the others finish up, tying the fastening of your dress up quick and sprinkling their final touches over you before following her out.

Your room goes utterly quiet. More quiet than it’s ever felt.

Dragging your limbs over to your bed, you let yourself fall onto it despite all the care they’d taken to get your skirts right. Resting your cheek to your palm, you let your eyes fall closed as you memorize the feel of your own bed, too.

When you flutter them open, there’s something peeking out from the pillow across from you. You furrow your brows and reach for it.

The paper is folded up with haste, torn from the edge of somewhere else and scribbled on with a quick hand. How long has that been there, without you noticing? Pushing yourself up from the bed, careful to at least maintain the smoothness of your hair, you unfold it.

ℳ𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝓉 𝒮𝑤𝑎𝑛 ℒ𝑎𝑘𝑒.

Your soul comes back to life and seeps through your bloodstream. Sitting there for a few moments, idle at the largeness of what you’re about to do, you loose a breath.

And then, you curl your hand around it, shove yourself up in a flurry of white, crystalline skirts, and you go.

The curious faces of the palace hands you pass do not stop you, nor does the morning’s bite as you find your way outside, nor does the almost-slip over ice, and absolutely nothing else stops you as you run. Is he still going to be there when you make it?

God, please let him be there. Don’t let this be almost.

Fists full of the abrasive fabric of your skirts and darting by barren bushes and trees, you do not stop until you clear the little tree line and the lake stands vast and frosty ahead of you.

When Beomgyu spots you, and you spot his figure against the background of the lake crisp in the morning, the sweet cooing of the birds and the rest of the bustle falls away. None of it compares.

“You came,” he says, dragging his feet through the snow until he’s right in front of you, his features elegant once more in the clear morning haze. “I didn’t think you would.”

You reach up to dust away snowflakes resting on his hair. It’s an excuse to touch him—that’s all you find yourself wanting to do, now. Brows pinching, you say, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… was scared.”

“No, no, I came,” you say, feeling now the bare expanse of your arms. You run your hands up and down them. Heart in atrophy all the while feeling full just being here with him, you add, “Why did you want to meet here?”

The world is serene for a few long moments as he just looks at you, his gaze searching. “Don’t marry him. Don’t leave with him.”

You know where he’s going with this already. Letting your dress fall from your hands, the one they’d fashioned you in to do exactly that, you say, “And do what?”

“Be with me. Marry me. Be my wife,” he says, the lines of his face solemn. “Let’s elope and find a corner of the world that’s just ours, so that we will never have to hear another word from them again. Let’s just… be together. Finally.”

Chest swelling with something so hopeful that it’s painful, reality comes with its pin point and pops it. “Is that really what you want? You’ll take me, even though I’m promised to somebody else?”

His lip curls as though the thought were detestable. “What the fuck is a dowry to this? To the approval of the fates? The world could try snuff that fact out with whatever they’ll try, and a man could offer your parents a dowry of all its money, and still, you’d be mine. No matter what, our souls belong to each other.” His hand is frozen against your cheek. He’s been out here waiting for you for so long. “I’d take you, promised to another man. I’d take you no matter how you are; in a thousand different lives, I’d have you each time.”

That’s all you need to hear: that you are cherished for more than just your nature, but for yourself. That he loves you unendingly and undyingly, and all you have to do is leave by his side. You’ve already left it all behind—thrown any attachment to the wind, because truly, what is that to this? You don’t know where you’ll go, and you think Beomgyu hasn’t a clue either. But you’ll find that somewhere together.

Together, your half sings. His answers with a thrilling beat.

“This time,” he says, eyes blazing with conviction. You know he feels the tug, too. “We got it right.”

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✎୭ ashlynn's note MY SHAYLAAAAA. MY SHAYLAAAAAAA!

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biteyoubiteme · 13 days ago

Note

hard thought: soobin fucking you in front of a mirror cause you’re insecure and he wants to show you how beautiful you are unraveling under his touch. soobin teases you a bit before making you watch yourself finish on his dick.

(bonus points for exhibitionism. as in soobin inviting another member to watch bc you’re just so pretty to them)

don't be shy

choi soobin x fem!reader x choi beomgyu synopsis: soobin wants to show you how pretty you are to him and beomgyu. warnings: 🔞 nsfw, a bit of insecurity trope, exhibitionism/getting caught?, fingering, breast play, uuummm no pull out mention, beomgyu just watches lol, choking, bulge kink, i think thats it >< wc: 2.5k an: its been a whilllleeee since ive written and posted anything let alone smut sooo im a bit rusty and this is not really proofread sorrry >< ive had this ask in my inbox for so long sorry it took me a while <333 [m.list]

It always started right at the mirror, your hands sliding down the front of whatever you were wearing to try and smooth down the fabric. Fingers tracing patterns only you could see on your skin, down the bridge of your nose, along the plush of your cheeks. It was never something you had to say aloud; the slight downward tilt to your lips was enough to draw in Soobin's attention.

You would hardly notice him watching, set on mentally circling the things you didn't like about yourself with a red pen, as if you were grading a test you knew you wouldn't be able to ace. But he would lean back on the bed, the perfect view into the bathroom when you had the door slightly ajar, his eyes following the way you pushed at your chest, hand moving down like you were showing him a road map of his favorite trails he had created on your body.

Teeth sinking into your cheek, you would huff like it would keep your chin from wobbling. You had talked yourself into a mood that felt impossible to get out of when standing right there at the edge of the sink, judging yourself when there was no need for you to judge. And now so focused on not crying, you didn't even see soobin get up from the bed, already half undressed for bed with only his sweatpants low on his hips.

He leaned his chin on your shoulder, arms circling around you, pulling you from the depths of yourself and into the cradle of his arms. “What are you doing?” his words falling heavy into the still air, ready to reprimand you. Looking into the glass, he found your stare moments before you lowered your head like you had been caught.

“Nothing,” even if it was clearly a lie, and you knew he must have seen you, his hands following that same path you had been following. One hand reaches up under your shirt, cupping you over your bra, squeezing just enough for you to look back up at the mirror.

He hummed a mix of want and understanding that you wouldn’t come clean even when directly asked. His lips now ghosting over the shell of your ear, “So you don't mind if I use you right here?” his other hand slipped down to the hem of your shorts, squeezing your thigh just as you had, only his hand ate up more space.

“H-here?” the words a whisper of concern. In the room away from the blinding lights in the bathroom you could push away the thoughts of yourself, focus on him and him alone, how his body reacted to yours, and not watch the way you moved against his.

“Right here,” you were just far enough from the counter to see the way his fingers slid across your inner thigh, the added view of it heightening the feel of the sensation, your body jolting from the sudden onslaught of sensitivity. “So my pretty girl can see exactly how good she looks to me,”

You whine at the words, knees pulling in trying to trap his hand from moving any further up, his hand on your chest holding you flush against him, kneading at your skin, greedy to have more. “But-” the word falling flat when he pushes his hips closer to you, the bulge of him felt right against your ass.

“Hum? But what?” he grinds into you, hands tightening on you to keep you in place, “If you want to stop just say the word,” and you knew he would, he'd teased you before, your joking denial making him pull away in less than a second. He wouldn't mind leaving you aching and wanting more, he would make you beg to have his hands back on you.

“Don't stop,” the words breathed out even when you felt like falling apart not just because of his hands but because of the battle you were having with yourself only moments before. You wanted him more than you cared to watch yourself and already the way he was curving into you, holding you against him like you were the only thing keeping him standing was addicting to witness.

“You know I like it better like this,” he tilted his chin towards the mirror, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips, down the length of his arm, corded with fine muscle straining as he desperately dug his fingers into your thigh. “Having you on display,”

Your head rolled back onto his shoulder not being able to take in the sight of him slipping past your shorts, fingers sliding against the damp fabric of your panties. Soobin squeezed at your chest in a warning, tisking in your ear, “No, no, I want you to see what I'm doing,”

But you don't want to listen, not when it feels easier to melt into him still grinding against you, your lashes fluttering closed when he draws a slow circle around on your clit. “It would be a waste to leave you this soaked but I will if you don't look,” your hips moved involuntarily on their own as he dragged his fingers along the outline of your cunt, teasing you into following his demand. “I mean you're already so wet over nothing but a few small touches,”

“Soobin-” it was a soft plea as you looked back in the mirror, back at the way you were leaning against him, both of you moving with slow strokes of your hips. Your body tried to ride against the heel of his palm while he circled your entrance through your panties. He was no better, the heat of him rubbing against you to the pace of your grinding.

“Are you going to let me show you or are you going to fight me the whole way?” you twitch in his hold, his teeth sliding down your neck like a warning, his lips going back up the trail. The sight alone makes you want to fall into him, let him use you because in his arms like this it's so easy to see how well the two of you fit together, no need for second guessing anymore.

You whine when he pulls away just enough to peel your shirt away, leaving you in your bra, half spilling out of it from all the groping he couldn't keep himself from. “Maybe all you needed was a bit of attention? Have I been neglecting you? Should I apologize?”

Your nails dig into his forearms, keeping him in place when he finally goes past your panties. You could almost cry from the teasing, your eyes locked on his through the mirror as he catches the way your face softens at the feeling of him finally pushing his fingers into you. His groan felt along your back as he slowly pumps in and out of you, “Look at how pretty you look already a mess from nothing but my fingers when I've hardly done anything at all,”

You tell yourself you should be embarrassed, watching yourself like this, so desperate over so little being given to you but he makes it hard to think of anything else besides him and his slow demonstration. His free hand pinching at your nipple, the straps of your bra sliding low down your arms. Your whimpering is loud, coming from your throat and yet you can't grasp the full spectrum of it when you're watching the way your lips fall open.

You want to muffle the sound because you know you're not alone in the shared apartment but it's hard when he's working you like this. Caught in a web you don't think you even want to be pulled from, not now when he's deliberately working your clit to match each stroke of his curling fingers. It's almost too much, your eyes squeezing shut before you fall forward, bracing your hands against the counter as your orgasm crashes over you, too caught up on the way you are falling apart to notice the way soobin is quick to pull your shorts and panties down until they are pooled around your ankles.

“So loud,” he teases, that mocking tone sending heat up your spine, your arms trembling as you hold yourself up looking at him in the mirror as he shakes his head, “and you didn't even get to see how perfect you look when you cum,”

You can feel the tip of his cock tracing between your folds, spreading your wetness around as your body clenches around nothing, whimpering when he circles your sensitive clit, “Do you promise to look this time? If you don't I won't let you finish,” he waited for your answer, his free hand sliding down your back until it could grip your hip to steady you.

“I promise,” your eyes caught on his in the mirror, your body flush all over, hot under his touch, “I'm sorry-”

But the last words did not only come from you, no, because neither of you had shut your bedroom door, and there standing at the foot of the bed, looking in on soobin behind you in the mirror was beomgyu. His mouth caught agape at the sight of you two, body frozen in place as he felt himself go numb at the sight.

“Oh god-” your gasp not just from the shock of beomgyu now standing witness to the scene but from the stretch of soobin finally pushing into you. Soobins throaty moan followed by a chuckle as he bottomed out.

You were trembling under him, a mess of contradictions. Embarrassed because you had been caught, but finding it hard to want to pull away when soobin was holding you so tightly in place, so still and deep inside you that it was driving you crazy, your body clenching down on him enough to drive soobin insane.

Dropping your head, you had to look away from Beomgyu's stare, from soobins, because both of them had all their attention on you, your chest laid against the cold counter, making you gasp out at how sensitive your nipples were. “Dont be shy now, let beomgyu see just how pretty you look when you get fucked,” soobin leaned down over you, the heat of his chest radiating over your back as he whispered into your ear, “Besides how rude would it be to just let him hear how good I make you feel when he could watch? You were being loud enough to basically call him in,”

You turned your head just enough to see him standing there with the swell of his bulge so visible through his jeans, soaking in the sight of you like he had found an oasis at the edge of a desert. Soobin could tell you like being watched just by the way you fluttered around him, could tell you didn't want to stop when your hips were squirming against his for him to move again, to give you more. But he still wanted you to watch yourself.

In one swift move soobin reached around to lightly wrap his fingers around your neck, pulling you up until you were back to looking at yourself in the mirror, back arched just right as he steadied your hip with his free hand. “Tell her how good she looks gyu or you can leave,”

You were a mess, chest rising and falling in time with the rate of your heart, eyes watching the way beomgyu devoured the sight of you with soobins hand like a necklace on your throat, the weight comforting enough to make you dizzy. “Fuck- you look- you look so good,” the words hard to get out, his fist clenched at his side.

“You see, I told you, fucking perfect,” soobin muttered finally moving his hips just enough to hear you start to whimper again. Slowly he starts to pull out, drawing out your pleasure as you feel every inch before he rams back into you, the jolt of the movement sending you to your elbows. You're moaning, not caring if you're loud anymore, not like you had cared much before. Soobins pace built up enough to pull out any sound he wanted from.

And there beomgyu was standing, watching the way you gasped, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he tried to swallow down his soft whine still heard over the soft slapping of soobins skin against yours. Soobin watches you lock eyes with his friend, watches the way your head falls back more, your body arching against his displaying more of your chest to the mirror just for beomgyu.

The hand he had used to hold your hip falls down to your pelvis, pressing in deep until you let out a squeal, legs nearly giving out from the feeling of him with his palm against the bulge he had made inside you. “You see how good she is to me? How lucky I am?” his thrusts now slow as he questions beomgyu, “Watch how pretty she is when she finishes on me,”

It's the only warning you have before his hand on your stomach slips further down, fingers circling your clit before he starts back up his thrusting, his hand on your throat tightening just enough to make your eyes lashes flutter, but you don't close your eyes, you listen to him and watch yourself, watch him, watch beomgyu. You should care, but you feel no ounce of shame having your friend watch you get fucked, not when he both of them look at you like you are the only thing holding them down to the earth.

Soobins moans in your ear mix with your own as he pulls you up and flush against him again, your whole body on display, held in place only by his hand because without them you would have fallen right back to the counter. “Show me, pretty girl, show him how pretty you look when you cum on my cock,”

And it's when beomgyu falls to sit on the bed that you cum, watching the way he palms himself over his jeans like it will help any. Your body tightens, crying out as soobin grins wolfishly against your skin, his rocking into you as you ride out your high, panting desperately as his hips stutter against yours.

You're almost surprised by the sudden rush of warmth you feel, your body melting back into soobins as he pumps you full of his cum, using you like he was made to. The sight of you in the mirror was intoxicating enough to silence anything you had been thinking before because soobin was holding you to him like you are always made to be his to hold.

His breath is hot against your cheek, “next time you look in the mirror I want you to think of this,” his hand that was on your clit sliding back up to press on your stomach just like before, right over the spot he was pressed in deep, your whimper making him twitch inside you. “And if I didn't make it clear how good you look, I'm sure I could invite beomgyu back over so we both can make sure the lesson sticks,”

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#txt smut #txt x reader #soobin x reader #soobin smut #choi soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #txt fanfic #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours

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lucidwntrr · 10 days ago

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hiiiii! i was just wondering if you could write something with virgin sub beomgyu where hes lowkey kind of a gooner and reader (who is his roommate) catches him jerking off and moaning her name and then like as the days go by she starts teasing him because he doesnt know she heard him and then finally she snaps and they fuck and yay wow and hes like a mess and whiny and pathetic and yeah…!

anyways! love your mingi fic it was so good❤️

this is so long overdue, i sincerely apologize for the wait- but i'm glad you enjoyed the mingi fic !! i hope you enjoy this one too ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

── tags: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), riding, gooner beomgyu, he's noisy, masturbation, teasing, praise, begging, crying, reader is kind of a pervert, multiple orgasms, he just wants to be used, wc: 3.2k

“mmph, fuck…”

it started on a friday night. you came home from a late class and that’s when you first heard it. you took your shoes off and tossed your bag onto the nearby couch.

“please,” it was a soft sound, a whisper almost, if it not had been dead-silent in the apartment. it was coming from down the hallway, from the room that belonged to roommate, beomgyu.

you walk up to the door, it was cracked open and there was a tiny light peeking through the slit. peering in, you find your roommate jerking off. he was sat in bed, the screen of his laptop being the source of illumination in the otherwise dark room.

his head was tossed back, eyes squeezed shut, and his fist was vigorously working his cock that was leaking all over. the squelching sound almost obscene.

“fuck, so pretty-“ he breathily whines, followed by a whine of your name. he opened his eyes to look at his screen, his hips stuttering up into his hand. you squint, trying to get a glimpse at what he was touching himself to.

the laptop sat at an awkward angle, but once beomgyu's foot kicked it on a particularly hard thrust, you had to suppress a gasp when you noticed was on the screen. it was split in two, on one half there was an image on it that looked eerily like you (it was). the other half played a porn video that if you strained enough, could hear over beomgyu’s moaning.

is he watching that and imagining it’s me … you think to yourself, feeling heat pool below as you squeeze your legs together.

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beomgyu knew he wouldn’t last. he’s watched this video countless times, three times tonight. it’s the only one that resembled you enough for him to get off to. he's tried others, but this one is what really got him going.

he could feel his orgasm bubbling up as the video reached the three minute mark, his cock twitching as the boy in the video gets used, his cock getting relentlessly ridden as he squirms beneath her. he wants that to be him.

“you gonna be a good boy~” the lady in the video purrs and beomgyu immediately moans, nodding his head. "gonna cum for me," his fist speeds up, matching the pace of the video.

“yes, i’ll be a good boy,” he whimpers. if he imagined hard enough, the voice even sounded like yours. god, he needed that. you in his ear telling him how to please you, use him like a little toy, praise him when he’s doing something right. “fucking please-“ he gasps. he just wants you to take control of him.

he can’t count how many times he’s envisioned you walking in on him. laid out on the bed, legs spread, his cock pulled through his boxers as he fucks up into his hand unapologetically. tsking and shaking your head at him for being so shameless.

just as the video hit the four minute mark, beomgyu's favorite part, the lady whispers “you take it so well,” as she bounces on the lucky boys cock, tugging on his hair. he shivers, cock twitching, as his orgasm runs at him.

beomgyu moans at the same time he moans, spilling all over his hand, his third orgasm of the night hitting him full force, cum flying up to hit him in his face and land over his chest.

“mmph-!” he moans behind his hand, not wanting to be too loud. he wasn’t sure when you would be home from class (or if you already were) and he didn’t want to embarrass himself, despite his fantasies.

his hips weakly thrust into his hand, driving him to oversensitivity as he tries to make it last. it just felt so good, the rush so addicting. he feels like he could go again if he really wanted to, but he was pretty tired from cumming three times already.

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the next day, you walked out into the kitchen to find beomgyu sitting at the island. he had his glasses on and was writing something in his journal. his face was in his hand, brows cutely furrowed and he was chewing on his bottom lip.

he looked completely different from the beomgyu you saw last night whose glasses were tossed aside on the floor, hair sticking up in different directions like he was pulling on the strands, bottom lip slick with saliva.

you want to see that look on him again, but first you wanted to toy with him...

“hey,” you greet him, slowly walking to the fridge to grab something to drink. intentionally bending over a little too far, pajama shorts riding up your ass. you can hear beomgyu's pen drop against the counter and he clears his throat behind you.

“hi…” he dreamily sighs out. when you turn around, his cheeks were a light pink and he quickly diverted his eyes back to his journal when you were about to make eye contact, swallowing hard.

with a fresh bottle of juice in hand, you place it in front of him. beomgyu looks at you confused, cocking his head to the side. you feign weakness as you try to pry open the lid to the drink, faux sensual grunts making beomgyu fidget.

“open it for me, please?” you ask with sickeningly sweet smile, leaning over the counter so your chest was in view. beomgyu's eyes flitting between staring at them and at the juice in front of him.

beomgyu hesitantly takes the drink, your hands brushing past each other as you grabs it by the top. he chokes on a gasp, hurriedly opening the bottle with ease and pushing it back your way.

with a whispered 'thank you', you take a swig from the bottle. beomgyu watches the way your lips wrap around it and his dick twitches in his pants. he has to shove his face back into his journal to stop himself from gawking.

but what you say next has him short circuiting,

“good boy~” you cooed, before walking away, ruffling beomgyu's hair as you pass him. you take the drink with you and leave a dumbfounded beomgyu in the kitchen. “you’re so strong.” you add while going to your room.

he doesn't move. he keeps his head down as you go back to your room and shut the door. his face is red and his dick is throbbing, he shoves a hand into his lap to stop the aching. his hands were to shaky for him to continue writing, not like he could remember what he was writing anyway.

that night would mark the second time you would hear beomgyu masturbate. his muffled cries were loud from behind his closed door. frequent chants of your name and pleads as he fucks himself to the two simple words you uttered to him.

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achoo!

beomgyu sneezes again, laying across the couch and his head was tilted back against the arm. it was the only comfortable position he could rest and still be able to breath. his nose red and raw from the constant rubbing.

he had just come back from class, the pollen that hung in the spring air was whooping his ass. he hasn’t stopped sneezing since he’s been home. it was only a five minute walk yet...

you entered the living room just as beomgyu lets out another full-body sneeze with a groan, rubbing under his nostrils. you flinch at how loud it was and he mumbles an apology.

“don't apologize, i was just startled. would you like some allergy meds?” you ask, opening the cabinet filled with different antibiotics. you rummage around until you find the one you were looking for.

beomgyu, not being the fondest of taking pills shakes his head no. “not really, i’ll be okay… just need a nap.” he reassures, crossing his arms over his chest and slipping his eyes shut. and right after he sneezes again, painfully.

you sigh, “come here.” a simple statement, only slightly serious in tone.

but something in your voice must have had some affect on beomgyu as he stilled, his eyes opening before getting up and timidly shuffling towards you, pouting.

you pop two pills from the package and hand it to him, along with a glass of water that you poured for him.

you look him in the eyes as you say, “take it.”

and beomgyu could almost moan at how commanding you sounded, so in control. even if this wasn’t the right scenario, his mind faintly thinks back to that video… and tries not to get turned on.

he turns his head, wanting to avoid the heat of your gaze, pressing the pill to his lips. before he could slip in his mouth, you reach a hand up to gently cup his face, turning him back towards you.

beomgyu's eyes widen, his legs feel like jelly, and he has to shove the whimper that threatened to escape down his throat. he can feel his neck heating up and he prays that his face hasn't changed color.

quickly, he brings the pill to his mouth and places it on his tongue before taking in gulps of water to wash it down with along with his moans. all the while making eye contact with you, as you nod in encouragement.

“god, you took that so well…” you praise, caressing his cheekbone with your thumb and beomgyu almost chokes on his water. he sputters, trying to find the right words and pretend like his dick didn't just twitch, he didn't just leak a bit.

“h-huh?” he breathes

“im just saying, you take it well…” you repeat, and you could’ve sworn beomgyu’s eyes glazed a little at that. “the pills.” you finish, dropping your eyes to his lips that were parted and pink.

“oh r-right, the pills…” he says, clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck that likely red. “i-im gonna go take that nap, let the pills do it’s job.” he mumbles, speeding off to his room and slamming the door.

it wasn’t long after that you could faintly hear the same porn video playing and beomgyu failing to contain his moans as you pressed your ear to his door with a smirk.

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you crack exactly a week after the first time you heard him. everyday until now you would hear him jacking off when you walked past his room. and it was driving you crazy... in a good way. you just wanted to hear them up close, see him lose himself like that in front of you.

you were back from your same late night class, it ran a little later than usual, but that was fine. the first thing you heard was beomgyu masturbating...this time he was super loud, not holding back as he pumps himself unapologetically. desperate cries of your name and ‘please’ tumbling past his bitten lips.

“fuck me!” he unabashedly moans.

you walk up to his room, and just like the first time, peer your head into the cracked door. he was laying down, legs bent and he was fucking up into his hand. he was sweating, it was staining the front of his shirt and his pants were tugged down just enough for his cock to be free.

his cock that was leaking copiously like he's already came, a pool of pre-cum puddling around the base of his cock and covering his hand.

"please, please, please..." he whines before loudly moaning your name. his clean hand running through his hair and tugging on them roughly.

he doesn't notice you come into the warm room, his eyes rolled shut, glasses crooked on his face, just when you walked in. you take soft steps, coming up to his bed and climb on top of him, straddling his hips.

"w-what the f..." he starts, jumping but getting nowhere as he was trapped beneath you. he opens his eyes and gasps, blinking rapidly to be sure he wasn't dreaming. he gapes like a fish, trying to find words but they have all escaped him.

"i-i-..." is all he manages.

"thinking about me," you whisper in his ear, placing your arms on either side of his head and cage him, leaning down. beomgyu wriggles under you, panting into your ear heavily.

when he doesn't respond, you continue, "to be honest with you beomie, i've been listening to you touch yourself to the thought of me all week."

"r-really...?" he stutters, his cock that was still is his sticky hand twitches. his face flushes as his skin tingles, getting impossibly more turned-on knowing that you were watching him.

you hum, leaning back to look at beomgyu. you scan his face, his pupils were blown-wide and glossy, and his parted lips were plump and you wanted to close the gape between the two of you and kiss him, not yet though...

you sit back on your lap, beomgyu still looks like he can't believe you're here right now. his eyes just follow you as you move.

"well, don't let me stop you..." you gesture to his fist that was tightly wrapped around himself and fixing his glasses so they sit on the bridge of his nose. beomgyu doesn't quite understand what you mean, eyes still concentrated on the fact that you were here and sitting on his lap.

"you want me to keep touching myself...?" he whispers. his voice small. he looks down at his red cock and then back at you.

"while i watch, yes..." you nod.

beomgyu can't contain the moan that he lets out, one of his biggest fantasies coming to be. you walking in on him and basically bossing him around. he could cum right now if he wasn't so dazed.

"o-okay," he starts moving his hand on his throbbing cock again, a long and shuddering moan comes out.

"good boy," you purr, pushing back his hair that rested on his forehead. beomgyu whimpers, his hips stuttering under you.

he immediately falls, slipping under your dominance. "yes, mmph- yes i'm your good boy." you hum in approval, dragging your hand down his chest, using your fingertips to trace his body and beomgyu arches into your touch.

you continue down, until your hands reach his cock. you pry his hands off and wrap your own hand around him. not stroking, just holding it in your hands.

"please-please do something," he cries. weakly pushing his hands up into your hand. not finding much pleasure as your grip was too tight for him to move.

"again," you coo.

"please, i'm begging you..."

you squeeze him before you start moving your fist up and down his length at a steady pace, his cock jumping in your hold.

beomgyu traps his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it as you take control of his cock. pumping him however you wanted, switching from too fast and too slow. he was almost overwhelmed, the feeling so much more than he imagined.

"w-wait-" he gasps, his orgasm approaching too quickly. too fast for him to catch and stop it. spilling over your hand, when your fingers brush his sensitive tip. "fuck,"

you watch as strings of hot cum cover your hand, tsking at how quick he came just from having your hand on him for no more than a minute.

"that was pretty quick..." you giggle. beomgyu's hands fly to cover his face that was burning, he doesn't care if there was dried cum on one of them. he was embarrassed.

truth was, beomgyu was virgin. he's never had anyone besides himself touch his cock, only imagined that you would. and now that he had it, he couldn't contain himself and ended up cumming too fast. he groans, aggressively rubbing circles into his eyes.

"t-that was my first time..." he mumbles.

"you're first time," you question before catching on and then asking, "like your first time ever?"

he nods his head from behind his hands.

"oh, that's okay..." you reassure, removing his hands from his face. and smiling at him. "we can keep going if you'd like?" you suggest, to which beomgyu shyly nods.

you shift to slip of your bottoms before getting comfortable back on beomgyu's lap. you press your hips down, grinding along the length of beomgyu, his cock slipping between your wet folds.

"f-fuck," beomgyu breaths out, his hands coming to land on your waist.

you lean closer to him, your faces inches apart. beomgyu lifts his head, wanting your lips to touch and you accept, capturing him into a heated kiss. biting his bottom lip softly and pushing your tongue in when he gasps.

you pull back, beomgyu crying at the loss, and reach behind to align his cock with your entrance. finally letting him press his cock into you.

beomgyu's eyes roll back as his mouth fall opens on a moan. it was nothing like he imagined, but so much more. it was so warm and wet and tight. he breathlessly moans your name as he pushes in until he was completely inside.

"yes beomie," you kiss him again, just a quick press for comfort.

"i-it's so good, feels so good," he needily whines, tears wetting his lashes.

you moan, sitting up and resting your hands against his chest as you slam your hips down onto him. your fingers curling and digging into the skin as you use his cock. you were dripping all over him, the sound when your hips met, loud combined with beomgyu's broken moans.

you stare down at him, his debauched look spurring you on. he looked so pretty like this, losing himself over you. completely absorbed in pleasure as his cock reaches deep into you.

"so wet, you're s-so wet," he moans, his eyes slipping shut.

"yeah?"

"mhm,"

"but you're taking it so well beomie, making me feel so good..." you moan. it was those words, always those words that brings him to his orgasm. his brain was mush, so desperate to cum, moaning wantonly, the tears that threatened to fall slide down his face and onto the sheets.

something about him knowing that he can make you feel good. that he can take whatever you give him, like a good boy... his head presses into the pillow below him, his sweaty hair spreading around him.

"i-i'm gonna fucking cum," he cries, more as a warning than anything. he could try to wait for permission, but he wasn't sure if he could honestly. his eyebrows knit together and he holds onto your waist tightly, thrusting up his hips to meet yours, the squelching of both your fluids edging him closer.

"g-god," he shakily moans as he cums for the third time, hard. more tears falling down his flushed face as he spurts hot cum deep inside of you. his body trembles as his orgasm wracks through him, a string of saliva slipping through his part lips as his continuously moans.

"so messy beomie..." you hum, licking up the saliva and kiss him deeply. catching all of his moans in your mouth as he dances his tongue with yours. "such a good boy."

beomgyu shivers, keeping his eyes closed and trying to control his ragged breathing, choking on gasps. when he cracks them open to look at you through his tears he finds you fondly smiling.

god, he hopes we can do this again.

©lucidwntrr est. 2025

#wntrr’s ✿ requests #sub!txt #sub!choibeomgyu #sub!beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu smut #txt smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #sub!kpop #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #sub beomgyu #kpop smut #sub txt #sub! beomgyu #sub! txt #choi beomgyu smut

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dearjiwon · 12 days ago

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pairing: inexperienced!beomgyu x inexperienced!reader

warnings: dry humping, alchohol mention, inexperienced beomgyu and reader, masturbation mention

ive been thinking of inexperienced gyu, and him not being ready to fuck you yet since hes scared of hurting you.

he’s so big, and the thought of him trying to fuck you with his girth is definitely something he fantasizes about often. but he also fears it hurting you, to the point he just gets himself off to the thought of you instead.

the day you are both drunk as fuck, laughing about some inside jokes with a bottle in your hand. you decide sit on his lap, just in a cute couple way. you had only innocent intentions, wanting to lean back into him as he held you in his arms, the aroma of soju filling the air around you both.

but that innocence was shortlived. you could feel a bulge growing in beomgyu's pants. he was hard from just this. yet you couldn’t deny how much you craved to be fucked by beomgyu.

your both fully clothed, and you know he’s scared of going so far with you. so instead, you shift yourself right ontop of his dick, and the sensation immediately makes you moan outloud.

"w-what are you doing?" beomgyu stutters out. he's obviously surprised, but seeing you so desperate for him is undeniably hot. much so that he unconciously begins grinding up into you, stimulating you further as his dick presses up against your soaked cunt.

your panties are no use at this point. your fully soaked through just from the friction, just from grinding against him fully clothed, it was pathetic.

though, you never realized how big beomgyu really was, not until you were ontop of him. sure, you'd seen him get hard around you all the time. but you never payed much attention to it since it was only normal. atleast, you thought it was.

he grinds harder up into you, panting in your ear loudly as you roll your hips around him, you felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, chasing more of beomgyu as your hands helplessly wondered all around his body.

his moans become breathier, he stutters over his words, trying to tell you he’s close from lazily grinding against you :( though he gets embarrassed and cant possibly let you know that he’s about to cum in his pants from a single grind alone.

though, he enjoys it so much more because he’s never done this with anyone. being an idol means there’s many restrictions that he has to live up to, and that includes dating.

so how could he possibly bring himself to date someone with fans analyzing his every move? i mean, until he met you of course.

when he saw you, he knew that you were perfect for him. he couldn’t explain why seeing you made him want to break every rule, and every expectation set on him, but it did. and fuck, was he so glad that he ended up with you.

though, his thoughts were interrupted when you crash your lips against his, biting his lower lip causing a groan from him. he slides his tounge into your mouth, moaning into the feeling of your cunt grinding against his dick. and thats when he snapped.

he pulled away from your lips, letting out a long moan as he reached his high, the knot in his stomach coming undone as he came in hot, heavy spurts.

his hips stuttered as he leaned back against the pillows, panting heavily and holding your hips down onto his dick so you could feel everything.

not even seconds later, you came aswell. the sight of him fucked out infront of you mixed with the sensations made you see stars. and you can’t complain, because that was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

and when you were both done, chest rising and falling from exhaustion. he’d look up at you with his innocent eyes, seeming to be replaced with lust. before stuttering an incoherent sentence right under his breath.

“fuck, let’s do that again”

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niningtori · 2 months ago

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freudian

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi soobin x you

summary: freudian - susceptible to analysis in terms of unconscious desires. or, your parents have forced you to be "best friends" with minji, a woman you're convinced was put on this earth specifically tailored for you to have a mutual hatred with, since elementary school. she's confident, beautiful, and charming; and her boyfriend, beomgyu, is just as formidable. he's been a pain in your ass, an asshole to you to the most severe degree, since they got together in college. now, you're roommates with minji, but you begin to secretly take interest in beomgyu's best friend, soobin. it's just that... beomgyu's been acting weird these days.

genre: angst, romance, smut (mdni), lowkey yandere

warnings: smut (mdni!!!), yandere!beomgyu but more like pathetic!beomgyu, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, impregnation kink, no real dom/sub dynamic bc it didn't feel right but sub!gyu is coming back in a big way in "our deal"

word count: 13.1k

notes: hello my friends! i know i've been gone for a minute and i told myself i would post this on my bday at the latest... mind u it was in may LOL but this is a bit long for me so i hope that makes up for it a little 🥹 thank you all for being so patient with me. i hope you enjoy, and if you do, please leave feedback—it is truly so encouraging! if you don't like it please spare me i beg you cuz i'm still riding the struggle bus n don't want my feelings hurt

( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ )

“human beings are funny. they long to be with the person they love, but refuse to admit it openly. some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned. but one thing about human beings that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection, even if it kills them slowly within.” - sigmund freud

you’ve never been one to try to work against the inevitable. some would call it pragmatism, others would call it simply being a fucking loser, but you try not to dwell on its meaning. as it is, when your parents forced you to become “best friends” and “practically sisters” with minji in elementary school, you just let it happen. and when she inevitably drew the attention of every boy your eyes happened to linger on for longer than ten seconds, you also let that happen. as the years passed, and your parents forced you to tolerate all of minji’s, frankly, bitchy behavior, you stopped trying to avoid your fate and became as seemingly unflappable as you are now.

to say that minji is cartoonishly evil would simply be a lie, no matter how much you feel that way, but even you can recognize that she’s nice to a lot of people. it’s just, for some reason, you’re not one of them. when you two were forced to hang out together with friends, she would always bring up embarrassing stories to try to get them to laugh at you, and she's so damn charming, it worked. and on the rare occasion in which you felt kind of confident in your looks, she’d wait until you all were in public to point out insecurities you didn't even know you had. and the one time in middle school when you finally tried to tell your parents how awful minji was to you after she lied to the boy you liked by telling him that you called him ugly—which somehow resulted in her “comforting” him and becoming his first girlfriend—minji bawled like a baby during the mediation. in the end, you had to apologize to her for hurting her feelings.

even so, forced proximity is a breeding ground for understanding, and you understood minji from the start. in the same way, she understood you. honestly, regardless of your wishes, she probably understood you better than anyone else; but that is no longer the case. for as much as you two have always hated each other, there used to be fleeting moments of connection. her making a snide comment about an obnoxious neighbor when they compared you to her, and you taking care to make sure nobody ate the rest of her favorite dish when she was late to family dinner. you two may have disliked each other, but there was an undercurrent of… something. it was a twisted relationship, you won't deny that, but it was a relationship, nonetheless. however, all of that dissipated like smoke once you reached early adulthood. to this day, you're not sure why.

yours and minji’s parents pretty much forced you to room together in college, both stating that it was the only way they’d feel comfortable with you two being on your own. regardless of how quickly the two of you would now dismiss such a ridiculous notion, you were both relieved at the idea. it was almost like having a built-in companion. however, very shortly after you two settled in, things went from mildly bad to absolutely abysmal. undeniable, but ultimately menial, feelings of derision from minji became outright disdain towards you. you won't lie and say you didn't become petty in return, and you’ve never cared enough to fix such a strange dynamic, though you sometimes wonder if you should.

as it stands, minji could hear you getting slandered to pieces, and she’d probably join in. as for you, you’d indifferently watch someone gorge the rest of her favorite dish at family dinner rather than speak up for her. now, after both having graduated and joined the workforce, you no longer have to worry about threats to cut your livelihood off. realistically, you could stand up to your parents and say, “fuck minji, fuck her parents, and fuck you both for manhandling me into being her friend!” but that sounds awfully dramatic, so you won’t.

besides, minji, for all of her raging bitchiness, is actually the best roommate you could ever ask for. for example, she never leaves her stuff lying around, and she always rinses off her dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. the only consistent downside has been the men she’s brought home since freshman year of college, which you declare are none of your business, but the sounds of her… passionate encounters are a real drag. still, you could mostly tolerate them, but her current—and seemingly permanent—boyfriend seems determined to elicit the most perverse sounds he can out of her. at first, you prayed that it was just the honeymoon phase, but it’s been literal years at this point, and the screams reverberating through the walls of your apartment would be an inconvenience to anyone; but it’s especially troubling on nights like tonight, in which you have to be up extra early tomorrow morning for a meeting at work.

as you clutch a pillow to the top of your head in a vain effort to muffle out the lascivious noise, you contemplate maybe sending a text message asking minji to try to keep it down. maybe you could knock on the wall, and maybe that'd remind her that you're also a sentient human being who happens to occupy the room right next to hers. but you know it'd be fruitless, know it’d do nothing to actually help your situation. in fact, on the rare occasions that you’ve politely requested that they be considerate of your poor, battered sleep schedule, or even just subtly hinted to having something important in the early morning you needed to be well-rested for, it's always seemed to come back around and bite you in the ass. it's almost like they become even more unhinged than usual when they know you need your sleep, so there's absolutely no point in trying to get them to quiet down. still, as the hour ticks by, you become more and more anxious that you'll be unable to wake up tomorrow morning, so with a sigh, you tentatively knock on the wall between your bedrooms.

surprisingly, the noise ceases, and you really think standing up for yourself might have just worked out in your favor for once, but then you hear minji and her boyfriend snicker, and then there's the damning sound of their resumed activities. she was loud before, but now, it's like minji is being mauled or something. so much for being well-rested.

you wake up the next morning feeling like you got hit by a truck, and you just know you look like shit. you try your best to cover your dark circles, but at this point, who are you fooling? when you finally leave your bedroom, you run into minji’s boyfriend, the one she's been obsessed with since college. beomgyu.

“good morning,” he says with a lazy smirk as he leans over the counter. “did you sleep alright?” god, he’s such a fucking asshole.

“yep,” you mumble as you push past his shirtless body and reach into the fridge for your lunch.

“really? doesn't seem like it. you look like shit,” he chuckles, and while you don't even spare him a glance, you can just feel the smug look on his face emanating off of him and boring into the back of your head.

“thanks,” you say flatly as you fill up your water bottle. you're unsure why he even talks to you, but if you had to put it into words, it'd probably be something akin to the phenomenon of a cat watching a mouse as it backs itself into a corner. even so, you don't know why he bothers with trying to get a reaction out of you. you've never reacted to his taunts very much, but he still seems hellbent on making life difficult for you.

“you know, maybe if you got some good action, you’d understand why minji's as loud as she is,” beomgyu continues, almost as if he doesn't sense your unwillingness to participate in this—or really any—conversation with him.

“i'll keep that in mind,” you say perfunctorily as you shuffle over to the doorway and slide on your shoes before shutting and locking the door behind you. you don't see the way beomgyu’s fists clench at your unrelentingly dismissive tone, and even if you did, you wouldn't understand it.

in retrospect, you didn't have a particularly strong impression of beomgyu when you first met him. you vaguely remember him hanging around minji, and you somewhat recall listening to her rave about him against your will. still, her treating him like he’d been molded by the hands of the muses probably killed any interest in getting to know him in its crib. honestly? you probably should have planted some seeds of doubt in her mind when you two were still somewhat cordial, because if you had, maybe he wouldn't be with her today. your penchant for apathy has cost you peace, it seems, because beomgyu is at every family function and in every family photo, and at this point, it’s only a matter of time before he’s your de facto brother-in-law.

it looks as though his continuous onslaught of criticisms about your appearance, your demeanor, and your very presence have no discernible end in sight; and minji is more than happy to up the ante whenever he's around, which is fucking always. you almost think that you, in some strange way, make their bond grow even stronger. after all, you're pretty passive prey, and it must be somewhat fun to invent new ways in an effort to push your buttons. still, you're older and more jaded now, and you're pretty resigned to your fate. anyway, there's no way to make a completely clean break from them without your family causing an uproar; and for as much as you resent them, you don't want to do that.

you've been staying out more and more these days. after all, you're not getting much sleep at home, so what's the point of being there? plus, you’re effectively harassed by minji and beomgyu every time you have the displeasure of seeing them, so why bother? at least, that's what one would think your reasoning is, but reality is much more complicated than that. and your reality involves soobin, a guy you met in college, who you happened to reconnect with when you went out drinking with some coworkers a few months ago.

how do you know soobin in the first place? well, you initially met him through his best friend… beomgyu. so, complicated is putting it very generously. frankly, you’re surprised someone as sweet and mild-mannered as soobin is best friends with an asshole like beomgyu, but then, you’re “best friends” with someone you fucking hate, so you guess that’s just how things work out sometimes.

even when you are home, you don’t speak to beomgyu, who’s at your apartment so much, you wonder why he and minji haven’t just bitten the bullet to officially move in together and leave you stranded; but you're thankful they haven't because the roommate market is in dire straits. realistically, you never did speak to either of them for any meaningful amount of time outside of deflecting their verbal jabs about how you're an undesirable loser, but now, it’s even less than ever.

you spend the night at soobin’s pretty much constantly, so tonight, your elusive presence at your own apartment is particularly jarring. the kitchen is dimly lit by the moonlight and the fluorescent lighting above the stove, and the only sounds are from you quietly opening up the plastic of the post-midnight snack you’re making. that is, until you hear the door to minji's room opening as beomgyu creeps out and lightly shuts the door behind him. you immediately register his nearly-naked form, but you're so used to it by now, you don't even blink.

“hey," he says tentatively, but you've never been particularly in tune with beomgyu's emotions, so you don't catch the hesitation in his greeting.

"mm," you hum as you furrow your eyebrows, focusing on preparing your snack.

"you haven't, uh, been around much. everything okay?" he asks gently.

“yep,” you reply as you focus on setting the timer.

“have you been working a lot?” he probes.

“not really,” you mumble as you begin to pour yourself a glass of water. it's late, and you've been with soobin all night, only returning home because you didn't bring a change of clothes for work tomorrow, so your inhibitions are lowered. you're not as guarded as usual, and beomgyu is intent on capitalizing off of that.

“you should eat some real food,” he suggests, trying another tactic. “i could… i could make you something, if you want.” this is… weird. beomgyu has never offered to cook for you, and while he's made things before that you happen to like, it’s always been in service of minji; and he’s only ever offhandedly remarked that there were leftovers available to you. of course, you’ve always refused, so his present consideration is daunting, to say the very least. finally, you make eye contact with him.

“uh, thanks, but it's fine. i'm tired, so i want to eat something easy and quick before bed,” you say as you redirect your attention to your timer, willing it to move faster so you can eat and get the hell out of here. you push your hair back as you wait, and you unknowingly reveal a darker patch of skin where soobin had unintentionally sucked too hard on your neck. in the dim light of the kitchen, beomgyu’s eyes immediately zero in on the mark. he draws closer, his tall frame looming over yours as he holds your hair back to get a better look.

“what's this?” you balk at his question and his overly-familiar proximity. you try to pull away, but he just steps closer, essentially trapping you between himself and the counter.

“who were you with?” he asks between clenched teeth, his eyes narrowing with a darkness you’ve never seen from him, or from anyone, really.

you wave his hand away in annoyance.

“why do you care? you're too close,” you defiantly reply. his jaw ticks as he leans down closer to your face, his intent eyes scanning your annoyed ones.

“who were you with?” he repeats, his voice even lower this time. thank god above that your timer goes off, and you push him off of you as you grab your food and scurry to your room, eager to put some distance between the two of you. you shut your door, as usual, but for some reason, you're compelled to lock it.

you think of your bizarre encounter as a one-time thing, though you're still not sure what to make of it. yours and minji’s families have always tried to push the “family” narrative between you two, and beomgyu by extension, so you briefly entertain the thought that he might actually just be buying into the ludicrous idea, albeit belatedly; but that thought is snuffed out when his previous asshole behavior is dialed up to 100. the groceries you buy are always mysteriously gone before you can even finish eating them, your keys are never where you left them, and you swear minji and/or beomgyu are using your shampoo with the intent of draining it immediately every time you buy a new bottle. is this their way of “hinting” at you to kick rocks and find your own place? if so, how petty. getting a new place on your own would be expensive, and while you're not home much anymore, you feel it's far too early in your relationship with soobin to formally suggest moving in together. you'll just tough it out.

among all the preteen-level hazing tactics, though, there is one thing that genuinely unsettles you: things in your room are always slightly out of place. your mirror is slightly tilted a bit differently than usual, the clothes in your dresser are folded a bit more crisply than you remember, and you're trying not to feel crazy when you can't find a few pairs of your favorite panties.

tonight, you're finally home from a long, long day of work, and all you want to do is relax. you realize that soobin's home is a lot more peaceful, but his parents are visiting from out of town until tomorrow evening, which means they’ll be staying at his apartment until then. soobin still kindly offered to have you spend the night, and while you'd be happy to meet his parents, you’d feel a bit awkward with going any further than a simple dinner for a first introduction.

so you're home. while you thought you knew beomgyu’s schedule well enough to successfully avoid him, it seems that he's awake far later than usual, and he's lounging on the couch when you walk through the doorway. his eyes immediately dart up when he sees you.

“damn it,” you mentally curse, and it's like he can hear your unsavory thoughts.

“home late from whoring around again?” he drawls. you roll your eyes while taking off your shoes, but he’s especially relentless tonight.

“that's all you're doing, you know,” he continues. “nobody will ever take you more seriously than that. what do you have to offer other than mediocre sex?” there's a sneer on his mouth, which is normal, but his eyes are burning with the same unsettling intensity you registered when you last saw him; and while you’ve usually considered beomgyu as a mildly annoying pest, you start to feel a real inkling of anger. you don’t care—well, you shouldn't care—but it’s like he's dealing even lower blows than usual. you're about to answer with something —anything—but he does not take kindly to your silence.

“see, even you don't know the answer to my question,” he says with a mean laugh. “that poor bastard must be desperate for pussy to settle for you. but easy is easy, i guess.”

for the first time ever, you actually do respond, and of all the things you could conceivably say, you unintentionally utter a string of words that happen to be particularly soul-crushing to beomgyu: “you're fucking disgusting.” you don't stick around after that, because he clearly doesn't give a shit, so why should you? you could rub your relationship with beomgyu’s very own best friend in his face, but he's not worth it. you’ll go back to ignoring him like you usually do, and you genuinely consider scouring the web for roommates. you even consider just moving out and paying this city’s exorbitant amount of rent on your own. you'll see.

beomgyu, however, is reeling from what you said. for reasons he can't possibly begin to understand, those three seemingly innocuous words, probably uttered without much thought, seemed to dig at something inside of him he can't quite explain. the pain is there, but its source is buried deep down, down, down in his stomach. he tells himself it meant nothing, that you didn't even think about what you said before saying it; but for some reason, the notion that you didn't have to think about it, that you just said what you honestly felt for him, makes him feel even worse.

he's not sure what outcome he was expecting. after all, he wanted to push your buttons, so why did succeeding for the first time feel so… so strange? he feels a sense of unease unlike anything he’s ever felt before. he’d talk about his feelings, but he doesn't understand where they're coming from, and even if he did, who would he tell? minji? the thought alone is laughable. while she has absolutely no qualms about dumping all of her problems on him, he’s never reciprocated. besides, any mention of you quickly devolves into shit-talking. he could tell soobin, but his so-called best friend has been flaking on him for reasons unknown.

between the two, the answer is clear: soobin. still, having a non-conversation with him sounds unappealing, so he'll simply make soobin come out with him and the rest of their friend group. even if he can't quite articulate his feelings, just getting wasted with his friends should be enough to tie him over. he texts his group chat naming a day, time, and bar. everyone eagerly agrees, even his recently dodgy best friend.

being fifteen minutes late is one thing—even thirty minutes would be acceptable—but when soobin still hasn’t shown up an hour after the agreed upon time, beomgyu is thoroughly irritated. he tries to text, but when they remain unanswered, he harshly pushes out his chair and heads to the bathroom to call his increasingly unreliable best friend. the phone rings… and rings… and rings. beomgyu’s jaw clenches as he begins to accept that soobin, in fact, will not answer. then, just when he’s about to hang up, a groggy voice echoes into his ear.

“hello?”

beomgyu tries to rein in his temper as he snaps, “soobin, where the fuck are you?”

“huh?” soobin mumbles.

“you were supposed to be here a fucking hour ago. why are you bailing again? are you hooking up with someone without telling me?” usually, beomgyu couldn't care less about who soobin’s latest fuck is, but he feels the barest amount of dread in his stomach for reasons he will soon understand.

“uh, no,” soobin replies, his voice a little clearer this time in lieu of beomgyu’s edge. “i’m just… really tired. look, i’m sorry i bailed again. we’ll go out soon, okay?” beomgyu is temporarily placated until the following moment.

“come back to bed,” beomgyu hears someone whine in a sleepy voice. it’s too low for beomgyu to pinpoint whose it is, but the dread he feels makes a resurgence.

“are you fucking serious right now?” beomgyu snarls. “you keep bailing on me because you're shacking up with someone, aren't you?” he's not sure why, but he's compelled to ask, “who is it?”

“no! it’s… it’s just the tv, i swear. look, uh, i’ve gotta go. i’ll text you later, alright?” soobin thinks he hangs up the phone, but unfortunately for everyone involved, he does not. beomgyu knows he should end the call and grill soobin for some answers later, but something tells him to keep listening, so he does—which is a decision he will come to regret.

“you're such a baby,” soobin coos as he loudly plants kisses down somebody's body. fuck whatever decision beomgyu thought he was making, he’s hanging up now. but then, a voice he’d know anywhere cuts through the haze. your voice.

“mmm, soobin, i need more.”

what the fuck?

beomgyu gasps sharply as if he’s been kicked square in the chest, the breath leaving his lungs until they start to burn. he thinks it can't get any worse than this, but then the real noise starts. it’s all a blur, really, but between the breathy moans, the cries of pleasure, the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh, and soobin’s filthy words of satisfaction, what really stuns beomgyu the most is your stomach-churning praise. he can barely comprehend where he is, can barely register anything outside of the noises that threaten to break a barrier within him that he never even knew existed.

beomgyu’s eyes squeeze shut, and his voice is nothing more than a rasp as he says, “soobin, i’ll fucking kill you.” he’s surprised at how much he means it, because right now, he really could imagine stringing his dearest friend up like prized game; but soobin’s phone has long been forgotten, tangled up in his sheets as he continues to sloppily fuck you.

“you feel so goddamn good,” soobin growls. “gonna fill you up, sweetheart.”

you cry out wantonly, and finally, finally, beomgyu hangs up and rips his phone away from his ear as if it burns him. he’s panting now, and he’s unsure why, but his hands are shaking as he throws his poor phone at the bathroom wall, watching it shatter with reddened eyes.

he won’t let you and soobin do this to him.

you’re fast asleep after your passionate indulgence with soobin, snugly curled up in his sheets wearing nothing other than one of his t-shirts. soobin smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, murmuring something about loving you. his head whips up when he hears his front door unlocking, and he carefully extricates himself from your tangled limbs, but he’s not quite fast enough to intercept beomgyu before he enters the bedroom.

beomgyu is shaking with rage in a way soobin has never seen him do, but if beomgyu had the capacity to comprehend it, he’d notice that soobin seems surprisingly calm in what should theoretically be an unsettling situation.

beomgyu, though, is too shaken to wrap his mind around anything except for the sight of you curled up in his best friend’s bed. it’s a brutal confirmation of what he already knew, but wanted to deny. beomgyu can't bring himself to leave the bedroom, but he keeps his voice as low as he can despite his rage. he does not understand why.

“you fucking bastard. you’re supposed to be my best friend, how could you do this? you’ve been fucking my girl’s best friend for god knows how long now, and you didn’t think to tell me?” beomgyu snarls, his voice low and dripping with venom.

“this has nothing to do with you,” soobin says flatly.

“has nothing to do with me? she may be a fucking loser, but she’s family to me, and you turned around and fucked her without asking me first?” beomgyu is filled with righteous indignation, and soobin’s incomprehensible demeanor shifts from dismissive to awed.

soobin silently stares at beomgyu with wide eyes and a gaping mouth before he incredulously asks, “oh my god, you really don't get it, do you? even after all this time… jesus, you’re either stupid or in denial.”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” beomgyu says fiercely, but soobin only sighs in exasperation.

“beomgyu, i knew you were clueless, but i didn’t think you were this clueless. look, she’s your girlfriend’s ‘best friend’, and even that is debatable, and you’re just the guy who happens to be dating her friend. so what? you won’t marry minji, won’t even officially move in with her, even after all of her ‘hints’ for ages now, so what exactly makes you family?” beomgyu falters at soobin’s words, but he doesn't back down. not yet.

“because i’ve known her for years! i’m still a part of her life, and she… she’s basically like family to me. i mean, i see her every day, i’m at every fucking holiday with her, every family dinner, and i know her better than you do.” beomgyu feels a bit pathetic having to explain his place in your life like this, but the words are still asserted with conviction. his next words, though, are not. “and she’s… she’s not like all your other flings. she’s not supposed to deal with bastards like you who only want to use her.”

soobin, again, sighs.

“there’s only so much shit you can do behind your ‘protective brother figure’ bullshit, but if you want to go there, we can go there. what kind of brother figure jerks off to his sister figure after he gets done fucking his girlfriend? and don’t lie, because i used to live with you, and i’ve heard you whine her name in the bathroom a million times.” beomgyu turns beet red as his jaw drops in sheer shock at the brazen accusation, no matter how true it may be; but soobin is not near finished.

“and what guy threatens every man who ever takes an interest in a girl that's 'basically his sister’ before they can even say anything to her? you’ve been doing that shit since college, beomgyu, and the real reason you’re so scared to see her with someone else is partly because you’re terrified that they’ll turn out to be exactly what you are: obsessed—not because you’re waiting for the right guy.” beomgyu opens his mouth to retort, but he finds any words he might say dying in his throat before they can quite make it through his lips. soobin continues matter-of-factly, no room for debate.

“the rest of it is because you want to be the right guy for her, but you know you can’t be, because to her, you’re just the asshole who’s shacking up with the girl she’s hated all her life. you won’t live with minji, because that means you two would probably have to live alone, so you wouldn't be able to see the person you really want. and you won’t marry minji, because then, things would really be over, and you’d have no chance.”

beomgyu feels like he can’t breathe, let alone speak, at soobin’s merciless deconstruction of his repressed feelings. he desperately wants to deny it, but when he looks at your sleeping form, the only thing he wants even more desperately is to hold you. you look so devastatingly beautiful like this, and he would say he wants to see you like this forever, but that’s not true. what he really wants is for your eyes to flutter open just to look at him, and for him to be the only one you see, just like you’re the only one he sees. he wants you to sleepily smile up at him before letting him touch you, hold you, kiss you, just like he’s wanted from the day he first met you. his eyes turn red as they begin to ache with unshed tears.

beomgyu swallows thickly as he feebly chokes out his next words.

“i know. i know i'm… i’m a coward. but i love her. what am i supposed to do?” despite soobin’s unforgiving speech, beomgyu has no one else to turn to with this. he momentarily forgets that the man he’s pleading for guidance from is the very man who’s taken you away from him. and that man is now irritated.

“you're not getting it,” soobin scoffs. “you already have no chance, and you never will. instead of just approaching her like a fucking normal person, you were too much of a coward to risk being rejected, and because of that, you’ll never be anything to her. i’m not going to sit here and help you win my girlfriend over. you don't deserve her, and even if you did, i still wouldn't help you.”

… girlfriend? girlfriend? soobin is many things, a man-whore being one of them, so beomgyu had assumed soobin was just hooking up with you behind his back. truthfully, the thought of anyone in this world having you in that way, the way beomgyu never could, makes him feel like he’s going to vomit; but to know that you’re not just one of soobin’s flings, to know that soobin sees what beomgyu’s seen in you since the moment he first laid eyes on you… that’s what truly makes him feel like he’s going to be fucking sick.

he's angry. of course, he's angry. but more than angry, he's distraught. he’s never felt so stripped bare—naked and vulnerable for anyone with eyes to see—his usual arrogance failing to cover the ugliness that's been the crux of his true nature for longer than he can remember. he’s been exposed, belly up, with his insides torn out and put on display like a fucking frog stuck under a microscope. and all the while, soobin has been sitting and watching beomgyu squirm as he futilely tries to free himself.

“so, you… you knew how i felt this entire time, and you still got with her?” beomgyu chokes out between strained breaths. this makes soobin pause, and for the first time, he looks like he feels somewhat guilty for what he’s done.

“... yeah. yeah, i did. i thought, well, if you're never going to do anything, why can’t i? i… i’m sorry.” beomgyu knows soobin is not a malicious person, and deep down, he knows he can't blame soobin for seizing the chance to be with you. if he were in soobin’s shoes, if he had a fraction of his bravery, he’d have done the exact fucking same. but still. still, how could soobin do this to him? he could have chosen anyone else in this world, just not you. anyone but you.

“sorry? you’re sorry? you just sat there and fucking ripped me apart, and now you're telling me you’re sorry?” beomgyu accuses with a bitter laugh, his voice unconsciously raising with every word. how could soobin make him confront his unrequited love for you only to rip it out from underneath him? soobin’s supposed to be his best friend, and now he's stealing the love of his life away. but then, he supposes you were never really his in the first place. he's panting now, flushed and angry and at the very precipice of snapping into something unrecognizable.

soobin pauses before he placatingly says, “look, i know you're overwhelmed right now, and i know you're hurting. but you—”

“are you seriously trying to fucking level with me right now?” and he's pretty much shouting now. “you don't love her the way i love her. you don't even fucking know her. i know everything about her. i know what she loves, what she hates, what she eats, what her favorite words are, what kind of medicine she prefers to take when she's feeling sick. i know fucking everything about her. you don't love her like that, you can't love her like that. nobody can love her like that, besides me!” how dare soobin say beomgyu doesn't deserve you? beomgyu has hurt you, yes, but he still loves you the most. he loves you so much, it hurts.

beomgyu feels his restless fingers aching, and though he's never really been much of a fighter, he wants to wrap them around soobin’s neck to choke some sense into him.

but then, he hears the bed creaking. you're awake.

you rub your eyes before you sit up with the sheet precariously clasped to your chest, looking disheveled and beautiful and like everything beomgyu’s ever wanted. you're tired from your activities with soobin, but you're also a little disoriented from the wine you two drank earlier. your voice is hoarse when you ask, “beomgyu? what are you doing here? what the fuck’s going on?”

beomgyu feels his heart clench in his chest at the sight of you. he wants to shush you and cradle you to his chest as he coaxes you back to sleep, but you're not in his bed, you're in soobin's. with a longing he's never acknowledged before, he gently pleads, “c'mon, get up and get dressed. i'm getting you out of here.”

the fog over your mind clears and your eyes widen as you finally grasp how potentially cataclysmic this situation is. beomgyu is probably pissed that you're dating his best friend, and who knows what kind of machinations minji will create to tear you two apart when she finds out. you already kind of resent your parents, so if she spreads lies to them about soobin, you wouldn't really mind cutting them off; but how would that make soobin feel? and if minji wants to destroy your reputation to soobin’s friends and family, you know she'll have no trouble doing it. soobin would try to defend you, of course, but you don't want to put him through that.

beomgyu’s deeper intentions fly over your head, and you warily hiss, “what do you want from us?”

beomgyu’s breath grows even more ragged when soobin’s shirt slips off your shoulder and he sees the mark he left on your neck. god, he wants to scrub every trace of soobin off of you, wants to erase every memory of soobin's treacherous touch from your mind. he wants to occupy every cell of your body, wants to make you forget about every other man who's dared to touch you. he tries to force the thought of what you two and soobin were doing before he got here out of his mind, but his eyes are watery as he pleads, “i want you to come home with me, okay? please? we need to get out of here, we can’t—”

“i’m not going anywhere with you,” you snap. “you're not my fucking family, you're not even my friend. you don't get to tell me what to do.”

“don't say that, and please… please don't look at me like that.” beomgyu is fully crying now, and the haze of shock finally makes you register how distraught he looks. you're about to ask what the fuck is happening yet again, but he says something you could never imagine he’d say.

“i love you. all i want to do is love you. please, just let me show you how much i need you, okay? just come home with me—i'm begging you.”

… love? as a pseudo-sister-in-law? you want to believe that's the case, because no matter how far-fetched the notion is, it's still a million times more believable than a romantic explanation. but even so, you simply can't dismiss the way he's looking at you like he needs you to breathe, which is certainly not platonic, let alone familial.

you're absolutely rendered speechless, and you look to soobin for silent confirmation; but he's not calm, cool, and collected like he’d usually be. he grabs the trembling beomgyu by the collar and drags him out of his apartment. after he pushes beomgyu out of the door, he yells, “i don't give a shit about your fucked up feelings, leave us the fuck alone!”

beomgyu is far too stunned and distressed to comprehend what's happening until the door is slammed in his face, but when his mind finally catches up, he goes from distressed to hysterical. he's bawling now, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks as he hiccups pleas to you—and threats to soobin—from outside the door amidst his frantic knocks.

but it's not enough. he can't hear if you two are shuffling around or talking about him, even when he presses his ear to the door and tries to shush his own cries before going back to pounding on the sturdy wood. before any progress can be made—if such progress were even possible—apartment security is dragging him out of the complex and warning him not to return unless he wants to be thrown in jail.

beomgyu trudges back to his apartment. it's quite a bit of a walk from soobin’s place, but he would rather stumble home than call for a ride and risk someone seeing him like this. he cries until he can't cry anymore, and he's still shattered about it all when he finally makes it home. all he wants to do is pass out in his bed so he can briefly forget any of tonight ever happened, but he knows he'll somehow end up producing a few more waves of tears before he can do that. he unlocks his front door and he can already feel his eyes preparing for more tears to fall.

but, like always, minji has a nearly preternatural knack of appearing when he wants to see her even less than he already does.

“beomie, baby, what's wrong?” she asks concernedly as she walks up to him from her spot on his couch and fusses over him. he knows he looks utterly defeated, like he's just got done being steamrolled, and she seems eager to console him. in a way, he thinks she's probably a bit happy to see him so vulnerable, because he never is in front of her; but he doesn't have the time to dwell on that.

he's not really sure what to say, honestly. how does he verbalize tonight's events? how does he tell her soobin uprooted his most twisted feelings for the girl minji has an equally-twisted relationship with? he decides that the best thing to do is to let her go, and that he needs to tell her the truth for once. he sighs and pries her gentle hands off of him.

“minji, i need to tell you something,” he says shakily.

“what is it, babe?” she asks with furrowed brows. “what's got you so worked up?”

he pauses and bites his lip as he tries to figure out how to word things delicately. he may not like her very much, but she still deserves better than what he's given her. he settles on telling her, “i think we should break up. i just don't… don't think i'm the right person for you. i'm sorry.”

surprisingly, she laughs. “don’t be stupid, you are the right person for me, just like i'm the right person for you.”

beomgyu blinks as he tries to process her reaction. he finds his voice and tries again. “no, i'm not. and no, you aren't. i—”

“why?” minji interrupts. “because of your weird obsession with my ‘best friend’?”

beomgyu is speechless for the millionth time tonight. all he can seem to squeeze out of his throat is, “w-what?”

“you heard me,” she shoots back, disturbingly calmly. “what, did you finally tell her how you feel and get rejected?”

“... what the fuck?” beomgyu gasps, too taken aback to say anything else.

“it's been a long time coming, i guess, but i could’ve saved you the suspense and told you what she'd say,” she snorts. “you didn't have to get all worked up over nothing.”

“you… you’ve known about it all these years, and you never said anything? what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he exclaims. did everyone in the world know besides you and him? he hates the very idea of it. he hates that he's been suffering in silence, and hates that you’ve never cared enough to notice.

minji has been incredibly tame during this bizarre discussion, but now, she’s hurt, and she’ll say anything at all to hurt him back.

“oh, please, beomgyu,” she sneers with a grating, teary laugh. “you were so fucking obvious with everything you ever did. the way your eyes trail after her like a goddamn puppy, the way you never want to hang out at your place instead of mine, the way you always get so pissed off when she wears a skirt that’s a little too short. do you think i’m stupid? do you think i don't realize that touching me makes you fucking sick? come on, beomie, you make that pretty goddamn clear with the way you only ever fuck me with the lights off, and how you only really want to touch me when she can hear us.”

beomgyu feels like he might throw up, or maybe even pass out, he’s not sure, but he thinks he’ll find out soon. he’s utterly humiliated and disgusted with himself to a level he previously couldn’t fathom, even more so than before, but he just can’t wrap his head around one last thing.

“then why did you stay with me if you’ve known how i feel this entire time?” he asks weakly, and she lets out a scoff at his cluelessness.

“because i love you. because you belong to me. we just make sense together. she doesn't deserve someone like you, i do.” she says it like it's the most natural thing in the world—like she's mulled over her ridiculous reasoning a million times over, and she has.

“you’re… you’re fucking crazy. you don't—”

“beomgyu, be reasonable. look at her, then look at me. nobody else in the goddamn world would pick her over me!” her words falter a bit as she says that, a few pesky tears unconsciously escaping her beautiful eyes; but she composes herself enough to continue. “listen, i know you think i'm a crazy bitch, but don't you get that i'm the only one who really understands you? i know who you really are, and it doesn't bother me. as long as you take your feelings for her and put them towards me, i won't be disgusted by you like she is. i'll accept you, no matter what. don't you want that?”

“why the fuck would i want someone like you?!” he snarls. “you're—”

“i’m what?” she asks as tears finally fall freely from her eyes. “insane? i hate to be the one who has to break it to you, but you're just as bad as me. that's why we suit each other. from the start, you’ve only ever seen her, not me. it’s not fucking fair that she gets to have you when she doesn't even have to try! she doesn't have to try to take you from me, she doesn't have to try to get people to like her, she doesn't have to try at all. i try so hard to be perfect for you, and here you are, telling me you don't want to be with me because of someone who doesn't even like you.”

no, no, no. this isn't how it's supposed to be. his world has been thrown off its axis in the span of one night, and he’d rather fucking die than hear another word. minji latched onto him because she couldn't comprehend someone wanting you over her, and in her own way, she loves him. and you… you're with soobin because beomgyu is a coward above all else. he wants to go back in time and never call soobin tonight, he wants to live in the thinly-veiled ignorance he's been occupying for years now, he wants to be the person he thought he was mere hours ago. lastly, he wants to feel used by minji, but he doesn't even deserve the dignity to feel that way, because he was using her right back.

“get out,” he murmurs.

“beomie, come the fuck on. you’re letting your emotions get to your head. think about what you're doing!” minji borderline shrieks.

“you're right, you know,” beomgyu replies after a pause, and minji is temporarily relieved. she steps closer to him and tries to reach for his face, but he snatches her hands and keeps them in his firm grip as he continues. “i'm just as crazy as you are, but that doesn't make me want you. i hate myself, but i hate you, too. all your life, you've been trying so hard to be better than her, but no matter what you do, you can't force me to want you. i love her, and i'd rather keep wanting and never having her than keep pretending that i can fucking stand being around you. now get out,” he growls as he forces her out of his apartment and slams the door in her lovely face.

if beomgyu really thinks about it, he's always teetered right on the brink of knowing the truth, but he's been successful in fooling himself just enough to keep his feelings tamped down. when minji made a mocking comment about you losing your virginity in college, he'd gone home and cried, but he told himself it was because of the stress of finals looming over him. when he consequently spread a rumor about you being a mediocre fuck around campus, he told himself it was because anyone who'd believe him simply didn't deserve you. and when he'd zoom into the background of photos taken with minji just to get a better look at you, he told himself he was simply scrutinizing your appearance.

every time he stole your panties, he'd blame it on the taboo principle of it all rather than it explicitly having to do with you in particular. every time he’d get turned on only when you were around, he'd blame it on some secret exhibitionist kink he didn't know he had. every time he’d pretend to come in his condom during yet another unsatisfying fuck with minji, he reasoned that he was only pounding into his fist in the bathroom while imagining it was you because… well, he didn't really read into his actions for fear of what he might find.

it's a miracle he was able to live in denial for so long, and he should be grateful that the truth didn't come out sooner. still, as the weeks since the night he pathetically confessed his feelings to you pass by, he doesn't feel grateful in the slightest. he could stalk you, probably. he could threaten soobin and make him pay for what he's done. there are a million twisted things he could do to get you back in his sight, but he doesn't want to do any of them. because you wouldn't like them. because you might hate him even more than you already do. and if he's learned anything from minji, it's that you can't force someone to love you in any meaningful way.

so, he rots. he wakes up alone, goes to work on autopilot, comes straight home and drinks until he's incoherent, then goes to sleep, well, alone. he should probably try to go back to how he was before he met you, but he feels like that was another life—like he was a different person. time seems to be split before and after he met you, as much as it pains him to admit it.

it's a lonely, rainy night like any other when he's home late from work. he’s been here more in the past month than he has since he began dating minji, but he's adjusting to his newly single life as well as he can. the apartment is devoid of many personal pieces, furnished sparsely and lacking any real character. he cracks open a bottle of whiskey and begins drinking directly from it, not bothering to even use a glass. he sits on his uncomfortable couch, like he always does, and thinks about all the things he's done wrong. he doesn't even get the chance to get tipsy when he hears a knock on his door.

it's probably minji again. she's come by a few times since he dumped her, and while he could probably get a restraining order or something, he kind of enjoys seeing her suffer the way he suffered. it's not healthy, he knows, but it's one of the few forms of pleasure he feels these days. something is different tonight, though. the knocking isn't frantic, it's almost hesitant, and it doesn't last for very long. he furrows his eyebrows, and for some reason, he shoots up from the couch and rushes towards the door. his breath catches when he looks through the peephole.

there you are, standing awkwardly—almost like you're not even sure why you're there. you're drenched from the rain, and one of your arms is wrapped protectively around yourself as the other reaches towards the door, perfectly poised to knock again. just before your fist can quite make it to the door, you pause and retract it—folding it on top of your other arm. you stand still for a moment, and beomgyu is simply too stunned to move. at least, he is until you turn and begin to walk away.

with a speed he didn't even know he possessed until now, he wrenches the door open and grabs your arm before you can even react.

“wait,” he pants, not from exertion, but from adrenaline. “what… what are you doing here?”

he thinks he sees you gulp, but that could just be wishful thinking. your lips part and close again a few times before you manage to ask, “can we talk?”

“y-yeah, of course. um, come in,” he stammers awkwardly as he reluctantly releases his hold on you.

what is this? some kind of psychological torture? you’ve never sought beomgyu out until now, which should give him a spark of hope, but he knows better than to delude himself.

he steps away from the doorway to let you in and lightly shuts the door behind you. he clears his throat and asks, “if you're—do you need anything? a towel, maybe, or clothes. and i have… i have water, if you want. i mean, if you're thirsty.” he hates how fucking stupid he sounds right now, but it's almost like he can't stop talking.

you're quiet for a moment before asking, “can i have some clothes and a towel?”

his eyes widen a bit before he eagerly nods. “o-oh, yeah. just give me a second.” he tries not to sprint to his room, and he prays to god that he has clean pajamas for you. luckily, he's able to find something suitable. he returns to the living room and offers the clothes and towel to you with trembling hands. “here,” he says. “you can change in the bathroom down the hall. i… i’ll put your clothes in the dryer, okay?”

you purse your lips and nod. he watches you pad down the hallway until you're no longer visible. he lets out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding and seats himself on his stone slab of a couch. fuck, he should’ve gotten a better one like minji nagged him to. also, he’s been meaning to wipe down his bathroom mirror for a while. most importantly, though, what the fuck are you doing here?

he doesn't have time to dwell on it before you're walking back into the living room. his eyes snap up, and he feels a lump in his throat when he sees his clothes on you. his clothes, not soobin’s this time. it feels like he's hallucinating, to be perfectly honest, but he's fine with that. he just hopes the illusion continues.

it’s all too real when you plop down on the couch beside him, maintaining a respectful distance. fortunately, the couch is not only hard as concrete, but small to boot, so you end up only being a few inches away. maybe it isn't so bad after all. his thoughts are halted when you clear your throat and speak.

“soobin, uh… well, he told me everything he knows, but i just… i mean, i wanted to hear it from you,” you stammer. he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he wishes he didn't.

“what do you want to know?” he asks in resignation.

“everything,” you tell him, and he purses his lips with a stiff nod. he's had plenty of time to think about the unfortunate circumstances that led him to his sorry state, so the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them.

“i’ve always thought that you were so… so pretty. i saw you laughing with your friends on the way to class one day, and i knew i wanted you to look at me like that. and when i listened to you talk to your friends, i thought you were so smart, funny, and… and nice.” his lips are turned up in a wistful smile, and his eyes are uncharacteristically gentle. “but you never saw me, not really. you just saw me as minji’s friend, and i thought—i don't know—that if i just hung around her more, you'd warm up to me. i don't even think you remember, but i tried to be nice to you, to include you in conversation, to stand up for you. i swear to god, i did. but… but i saw the way you looked at someone else one day in the library. i remember it so clearly—you actually smiled at him and laughed at his jokes, and he wasn't even trying like i was. i was so fucking angry, but i thought i could make you see me if i made you as jealous as you made me, and i thought that there was nobody better to do it with than the girl you hate the most.”

oh, god. you actually feel… kind of guilty? is guilty even the word? you haven't done anything wrong, you know that, but you feel like you've unintentionally twisted the knife in his chest with your apathy. for as much as you've always wanted him to drop his antagonizing demeanor, you don't like how pitiful he looks right now. “beomgyu, i…”

“yeah, i know. i was wrong,” he continues, his soft smile twisting into a self-deprecating one. “i went from being nothing to less than nothing, and it just… it made me desperate. so, i kept trying, got mean; but you never cared, no matter what i did. i guess i thought that if i could never have you, maybe i should stay with minji, because then i could make you feel something for me. even if it was only hatred and disgust—anything was better than nothing.”

“beom—” you begin to say, but he's so lost in his feelings, so lost in the foreign sensation of talking to you and actually having you listen to him, he can't stop himself.

“i just wanted you to pay attention to me. and i could—you know—keep an eye on you. but you… you don't give a shit about me, you don't even consider me as a man,” he laughs. “if i think about it, maybe i was trying to make myself an option for you, at least, and that i could show you what you're missing if i tried hard enough. but you could never actually see me that way, and… and it's all my fault.” he lets out another harsh laugh, making you wince.

“i… i didn't know,” you say awkwardly. he takes a shaky breath before continuing.

“i've been begging for you just to give me scraps of you, because i thought it'd be better than nothing. all i ever wanted was for you to at least consider me, but you don't, you never did, and because of what i've done, you never will. i know i was wrong, i know everything is my fault; but i just wanted to be important to you, can't you understand that?” his eyes are pleading like they were when you last saw him. he's not asking for much, not even really asking for anything, and for some reason, it hurts your heart a bit.

because beomgyu is right, of course. you’ve never really cared about him, but that's not all of it, is it? you were resolved to your indifference before he even uttered a word to you, and while the disgust you've always felt for him is his fault, can you truthfully say that you’d have given him the time of day if he were nice to you? probably not, because of his association with minji. in your mind, there was no reason he’d like you if he knew her first, so his intentions were rejected before he could ever even understand them.

“i really didn't know,” is all you can think to repeat.

“i know,” he says with a bitter smile. you lick your lips before continuing.

“but i do know that i wouldn't have liked you even if you were nice to me. i don't… i don't talk to guys who are involved with minji. there's just… no point, i guess. and she liked you, and i thought you liked her, so… so i didn’t bother to get to know you.” beomgyu’s eyes are watery, but he retains his smile. he was doomed from the start, it seems.

“i should’ve just talked to you myself instead of using her to get close to you,” he whispers.

“yeah,” you reply, and his smile finally drops; but what else could you possibly say? if he hadn't gotten involved with minji, you'd have probably liked him. he's handsome, of course, and you can't deny that he's funny. and, well, you two do seem to have a lot in common based on what you know from small talk he'd make with your parents during family dinners.

“i'm sorry,” he murmurs. “i'm really, really sorry. even if you didn't like me, even if you never would've no matter what, i shouldn't have treated you the way i did. i don't blame you for hating me, and i should be grateful you haven't done anything other than ignore me.” he means what he says, but it doesn't sound like it, because he doesn't feel grateful at all. he feels utterly hopeless. in the end, your indifference was more painful than any intentional retaliation could’ve been.

you are silent. he's not trying to make you feel sorry for him, and you know it, but that makes you feel even sorrier. you're still struggling to form an appropriate response when he breaks the silence.

“i like listening to you talk,” he blurts out, making your eyes widen. “well, you don't really talk to me, but i overhear you a lot. i like listening to everything you say, and i like the way you say it. i like how you look, how you dress, how you laugh. and i… i like how you see the world.”

“don't you think i'm a little pessimistic?” you ask, your lips subconsciously curling up in a small smile. of all the things beomgyu could tell you he likes about you, that is truly something you never anticipated.

“i think it makes you interesting,” he says quickly, his smile tentatively returning.

you let out a soft laugh—the first one you've ever directed at him—and he can't help but straighten up with a bit of pride at having made you happy, even if just a little.

after your laughter, though, you think back on all the things you've wanted to ask beomgyu since that night at soobin’s. you know he'll tell you the truth, so you ask, “... were you the one who messed with my stuff?”

“yeah,” he replies with no hesitation. the sheer ecstasy of your attention makes him quite forthcoming, no matter how ugly the answers to your questions may be.

“even my panties?” well, that one is a bit more difficult to answer.

“... yeah,” he sheepishly mumbles after a pause, but his next words are hurried. “and everything soobin said i did, i did. scaring guys away, being an asshole to you for attention, uh, jerking off to you in the bathroom… all of it. i know i'm fucked up, and i know i probably scare you, but i would never hurt you. i just want to love you. i just… i want you to care about me.”

you take a breath and begin, “i—”

“wait! before you say anything, i just want you to know, it's… it's okay if you don't like me,” you can tell the words are like lead in his mouth, “but can't you just acknowledge me a little bit?” christ, he's so pathetic. you're not used to him being so… sweet? to you, but maybe you could be.

for as much as beomgyu has been thinking about his failed confession, you can't lie and say you haven't been thinking about it, too. you really did love soobin, but there was always a bit of reservation on both of your parts—a quiet kind of affection that you were happy to let grow organically; but your love was never all-consuming, never desperate, never aching. but beomgyu… beomgyu looks like he'd prostrate himself at your feet if it meant you'd give him the time of day, and he would.

“i can,” you say simply, and his eyes widen.

“you… you can? what do you—”

“i can pay attention to you. i can care about you.”

his face tenses and his adam’s apple bobs. his voice is strained when he asks, “what are you saying?”

“i'm saying, i’m willing to get to know you the way you know me. i just want to see how things go, because… i don't know, i kind of... like how weird you are.”

elation, triumph, and sheer relief overwhelm him. he doesn't want to ask his next question, but he feels like he has to. “what about soobin?”

you purse your lips and answer, “we… we broke up. no hard feelings, we just kind of realized we wanted different things out of our relationship, i guess.”

“oh, thank god,” he murmurs as he releases a shaky breath. theoretically, he should at least offer perfunctory condolences, but you two are way past such insincerity. you both know he's over the moon right now, and he's spent more than enough time lying.

only now do you notice that he's somehow managed to scoot closer and closer to you until your legs are touching without your knowledge. the clothing between you doesn't do anything to tamp down the buzzing sensation at the tentative contact. you look back up at him to meet his gaze, and his eyes are trained on you like you're the only person in the world. now that you think about it, you’ve caught glimpses of this kind of focus before—the kind of focus in which he looks at you as if everything and everyone else besides you has faded away.

his gaze flicks from your eyes down to your lips before refocusing. he leans in so close, you can see every minute detail of his face. long lashes, round eyes, slightly-chapped lips he keeps on licking from sheer nervousness.

his voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “please, can i…” he doesn't dare to finish his question, so there it hangs, unspoken yet unfathomably heavy.

it’s like there’s a strange sort of magnetic pull drawing you to him. before you can recount all of the reasons why this is a bad idea—at least, so soon—you tell him, “okay.”

that's more than enough, it seems, because in a flash, beomgyu cups your cheeks in his big, warm hands and tenderly traces his thumb along your jaw before pulling you in.

the first meeting is pure electricity. your lips immediately slot together as if they were always meant to be that way—as if everything else was simply an obstacle leading to this inevitability. the hums of energy you feel at your clothed legs touching is nothing compared to the way every nerve in your body is set ablaze right now. you feel him shudder before he reluctantly pulls away. his eyes never leave yours, and the look in his eyes is so intense—so hungry—you feel breathless under its weight.

“thank you, i've been wanting to do that for forever,” he mutters breathlessly, and he should be finished by now, but his hands remain on your face. he gently pushes your hair behind your ears before adding, “can i… can i show you what else i've been wanting to do? i swear, i'll be perfect, and i'll stop whenever you want. i know it's fast to you, but it's not to me. i just… i want you to feel how much you mean to me. but… but i won't push you.” he’s serious about that, you know, but he looks like he'll die if you don't let him prove himself to you. his cheeks are flushed, and if his squirming weren't enough, the obvious tent in his sweatpants tells you everything you need to know.

for the second time tonight, you take a deep breath and say, “okay.”

“oh,” he groans as he pulls you back in for another kiss. this one is much more fierce, utterly insatiable. his tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entry, and you eagerly oblige. he moans into your mouth as his tongue tangles with yours, trying to commit every centimeter to memory. he’s embarrassingly hard humiliatingly fast, but he’s fantasized about this for so long, who can blame him?

when you two break for air, his eyes are darkened with lust as he gulps and asks, “can i—”

before he can finish, you cut him off by palming him through his sweatpants. the groan he releases is utterly guttural and animalistic in nature, and you carefully add, “do whatever you want.”

his breath catches in his throat at the permission, and with shaky hands and unsteady steps, he leads you to his bedroom. you're on the bed in an instant, and in mere moments, he's stripped you of the clothes he gave you to wear. you feel a bit uncomfortable, honestly, knowing he’s probably comparing you to minji; but before you can dwell on it, he's gulping and reverently whispering, “you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.”

before you even have the time to feel shy or embarrassed, his hands are all over you—your chest, your hips, your ass—but he won't let himself get lost in clumsy touches and lose sight of his ultimate goal: making you feel better than you ever have. he kisses down your jaw and throat before planting a searing mark at the base of your neck. he soothes the sting with his tongue, outwardly apologizing for the slight pain, but internally, he's buzzing with excitement at the prospect of leaving something tangible on you—something that ties you to him.

his mouth purposefully trails down to your chest, sucking on one peak and teasing the other before switching over. he beams into your chest when he hears you moan. slowly, he pops his mouth off and briefly kisses you again before planting kisses down your stomach, and finally, finally, finally, to your core. you're not sure how much time has passed, but you do know you've never been so wet before in your life. he spreads your legs open and groans when he sees you glistening for him. then, he looks up at you with watery eyes. there's yet another question there, you can see it, so you spread your legs a bit wider in a silent invitation.

suddenly, his lips are buried in your folds. he leaves kisses, but try as he might, he doesn't have the wherewithal to control his hunger. when he takes his first lick, you feel an infernal heat beginning to consume you completely. he moans in pure ecstasy when he tastes you, and you can feel the vibrations reverberating through your cunt, your legs, your entire body.

“so fucking good,” he whispers, his breath warm against your naked lips, and that's all the warning you get before he begins to lick you and suck up your slick as if he were a starving man.

you can't help but writhe beneath him as his tongue circles over your clit, and he removes one of the hands he was using to keep you spread open for him and presses it on your lower stomach to keep you in place. his other arm remains firmly locked around your thigh, nearly bruising you with his desperate grip. men do not usually treat giving head to women as if women are showing them the greatest kindness of their lives by allowing them to, but he clings to you so hungrily, you know that in his mind, you are.

you begin to reach your peak far too quickly, and you think you moan something about being close—you're not really sure—when he slides his tongue into your hole and begins to thrust it in and out. his nose remains buried in your cunt, and you let out a cry of his name as patches of white explode behind your eyelids. he looks up at you as you come, his eyes shining with amazement and, strangely, gratitude.

as you're coming down, he licks his upturned lips and dazedly whispers, “i made you feel good, right?”

you let out a soft laugh and breathlessly reply, “yes, that was… you made me feel really good. so… what else do you want to show me?”

his eyes go from innocent to dark again as he processes your words. he anxiously bites his lip as he slowly pulls off his shirt, then his sweatpants and boxers. his cock is painfully hard, pathetically leaking with precum and even redder than usual—because of the way he was humping the bed mere moments ago as you were lost in the haze of getting the best oral of your life.

it’s pretty, just like every other part of him, and you have no doubt that he'll stretch you out nearly beyond what you'll be able to handle. it twitches traitorously with need as he stares at you, still dripping into his previously-crisp sheets. he unsteadily grabs his base and looms over you as he begins to tease himself up and down your cunt. he shudders at the contact, but he keeps his eyes locked with yours. he wants to watch every minuscule movement in your face as he finally, finally makes you understand how much he can do for you.

he begins to push in, one hand braced beside your head as his fat tip breaches your entrance. you both let out strangled cries at the insertion, and it takes every ounce of willpower and luck he can muster to not come immediately. he's jerked his cock raw for countless nights wishing he were fucking you, and here you are, looking up at him like he's the only thing you see. just like he's always longed for. it's an intoxicating sensation.

“you're so fucking tight,” he groans as he works himself in. “so perfect around me.”

he draws himself out before thrusting in a little further. then again. then again. each time, he gains a bit more of you, splitting you open further and further with every movement of his hips. his veiny cock drags against the most pleasurable spot in your cunt every time. he's whimpering now, and he'd be shy in any other context, but not right now. he's fucking a girl raw for the first time, and not just any girl, the girl. the girl he’s wanted since… well, always. he couldn't care less about the fact that he sounds like a whore.

when he pulls out and slams back in again, he's finally completely sheathed in you. his eyes roll back in absolute pleasure as he lets out a guttural moan. you, on the other hand, feel so full, feel so right, you're writhing beneath him. with a shuddering breath, beomgyu pulls out almost completely before drilling into you again and again. his pace is frantic—carnal, even. when you thread your fingers in his hair, he lets out a desperate whine.

“you feel so—mm, fuck!—so perfect. squeezing me so fucking tight, i can't—oh, god!” he babbles as he pounds himself into you. he has just enough awareness to take his skilled fingers and roll your clit as he loses himself in you. he keeps up his brutal pace in an act of frenzy.

“never—nngh—never wanna stop,” he whines as tears begin to pool in his eyes. they fall completely when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a filthy kiss. he tastes like you, and you realize you like it that way. you realize you like how pathetic he is, how much he’s loved you all this time, how much he needs you. you break from him and sink your teeth into his neck like he did to you, marking him as your own, and he lets out an animalistic cry he did not know he was capable of making.

“fuck, yes, yes, yes!” he cries out as his aching balls slap against you with every thrust. “please, please come. need to feel you—ah!—feel you come on my cock.”

his gaze finally parts from yours to look at your stomach. how nice would it be to be one with you completely? as much as he wants to, he can't stay inside of you forever, can't enmesh his body with yours, but he can become a part of you in a different way. he can plant his seed in your stomach, can mix his dna with yours in a physical, living, breathing product of his love for you—if he's fortunate enough. that way, he’ll be tied to you the way he never wanted to be tied to minji, and you’ll be tied to him just the same. but you haven't even agreed to date him. you're just lost in lust, right?

“i’m… i’m gonna come,” he pants as he continues to work your clit and fuck you like a crazed man. “have to pull out.” the words are almost painful to say, but he grits his teeth and says them, anyway.

shockingly, you wrap your legs around his waist and say between labored breaths, “you don't have to.”

the whine he lets out is laughably emasculating, but he doesn't care. he fucks you even more fiercely and rolls your clit with even more desperation, and you can feel the tension in your stomach about to snap. you let out a broken moan of his name as you come undone beneath him, your mind flooding with nothing but unmarred bliss, and your cunt clenching around him so suffocatingly, he can barely even thrust.

“oh, sh-shit!” he cries out as his orgasm throws his world off-kilter. his cum floods your insides then—thick and hot—and he can feel you squeezing him for every last drop. he gives a few more weak thrusts before collapsing on top of you. you both pant in exhaustion, but once he catches his breath, he buries his face into the crook of your sweaty neck.

“i love you so fucking much,” he whispers, his breath making your skin tingle. he pulls away and looks up at you. “and you… you’ll love me back. i'll make sure everything—i won't let anything go wrong. and if minji tries anything, i'll ruin her fucking life. i swear, i'll be perfect. i'll be the perfect boyfriend, husband, father of—”

“tone down the crazy,” you warn as you lightly pinch his cheek.

“s-sorry, i just got excited,” he blushes. “but i mean it, you know? i won't waste this, i promise. i'll be good for you every day, and i’ll show you how much i love you until you feel the same way. and our family—i mean, your family, they might be mad, but we'll deal with whatever happens, okay? and if they can't accept us, then we always have my family. they won't treat you badly, i swear.” he means it. his family doesn't even really know minji, and when they did meet her, they didn't care for her.

beomgyu is looking at you with his watery, pleading eyes, and you know he'd give you the entire world if you let him. if yours and minji’s families hate you after this, he’ll be your family, and you kind of hate your family, anyway. he loves you, and oddly enough, you can really see things working out just as he says they will.

you can't help but let out a tired laugh. “okay, i believe you.”

he groans in relief as he kisses you again, deeply and tenderly and lovingly, and you can see yourself falling in love with him, too.

notes pt. 2: i hope u all liked this one! it's been a while since i've written beomgyu this way and i kinda missed him. ik i'm not the best at writing him but pls dont be mean. and again if u enjoyed this please leave feedback!

taglists

permanent: @lonelybutterflytae @sooberryworld @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @notevenheretbh1 @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @serenityism00 @fairfootedflekk @definitelynotherr @hyunj00 @taehyunluvrs @m00gyu @denleave1088 @hwanghyunjinismybae @todorokiskitten @choikanghuening @thispersonlovesbeomgyu @naoristerling @sunnysidesins @beommieternity @peanutbutterjam505 @tkooooop @fairy-jojo

freudian: @soobsfairy444 @bambammtori @ewsnup @younbeanz @weyukinluv @wildernessuntothemselves @dksfml

#niningtori #freudian #beomgyu smut #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #beomgyu fic #beomgyu ff #txt fic #txt ff #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #txt x you #nini's hard hours

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aduh0308 · 4 months ago

Text

Use Me Instead [Choi Beomgyu]

Summary: He can’t help it, bucking his hips into the pillow just feels so freaking good to him, the soft pressure enough to get him over the edge every night. But he hasn’t told you, and when you come home from work early one night, catching him in the act, it seems inevitable that you will find out. genre: smut Warnings: pillow humping, dacryphilia, dry humping, hair pulling (m receiving), unprotected sex, reader calls him ‘baby’, ‘good boy’, ‘Gyu’, and ‘my Gyu,’ it’s not mentioned but they’re both virgins, cockwarming, breeding kinda?, mentions of future voyeurism and exhibitionism, not proofread word count: 1.2k an: repost from my old acc for gyus bday <33

The pillow between his legs is familiar, comfortable, a calm, pleasured feeling rushing over his body as his hips slowly rut into it.

He starts his pace slow, not bothering to muffle his moans with the pillow by his head. He knows you’re at work, and will be for at least another hour or so. Since you work the late shift, he’s managed to keep his secret, well, a secret.

It’s not like he thinks you’ll leave him if you discover what he does at night. No, that’s not it. But he’s not exactly sure what it is that makes him keep it secret. Maybe it’s just his ritual, a little dirty thing he does every night.

The thoughts leave his head as his hips continue. He’s on his stomach in the bed, the pressure between his legs is heavier this way. He has to do less when he’s in this position. Just a slow, rocking back-and-forth that stays steady right until the very end.

Soft little whimpers leave his lips, the silent night amplifying the sound. Tears wet the sheet beneath him as his pace quickens, almost frantic against the pillow. He can’t help but think of you, how you’d look on top of him, bouncing on him, how it would look to watch his dick disappear and you over and over again. He knows that he is so, so dirty for thinking these things. You two haven’t even done it yet, yet here he is, thinking of how it’d sound to hear his name falling from your lips, how it’d feel to be able to give you the pleasure that you need.

It’s these thoughts that tip him off the deep end, furiously thrusting his hips forward, the rub delicious and welcome.

He’s so, so close to cumming, when the door clicks open and he stops, caught like a deer in headlights. He freezes like pretending to be asleep will help just in case you already saw. The blanket is tucked over his legs so you can’t see how the pillow is pressed against him, and you lay yourself next to him, turning to face him.

You can tell he’s not asleep, his breathing a little too ragged, but admire how his lashes fan out against his cheeks. “Baby?” You whisper, lips a few inches from his, so close he can feel your words on his skin. “Are you awake?”

He nods slightly, eyes still shut, and you coo. “Awh, Gyu… you’re so cute.”

Beomgyu’s cheeks flush in the darkness, the sound of your voice coaxing a reaction from him that’s almost embarrassing, he risks a slight movement into the pillow.

You notice the tiny jolt his hips do, innocently snuggling your head under the blanket to get a peek at what’s going on.

You’re met with a sight that makes you smirk, face hidden by the blanket, and Beomgyu lets out a gasp when you run a hand over the bulge in his sweats.

“I- I can't!…” he stutters your name out, too flustered by you both noticing his position and your hands on him. You hum in a question, and he shakes his head, eyes falling closed. “N-no, keep going, please…”

A smirk tugs at the edges of your lips again, you gently part his legs, the pillow hitting the ground before you’re in between his legs, thigh pressed against the imprint of his dick clear through his pants.

“Use me instead,” you instruct, voice a coo in his ear. Beomgyu’s heart is racing, but he doesn’t dare disobey, too lost in need for his own pleasure anyways.

He slowly rocks his hips against your thigh, the friction of his pants against his dick making him whimper slightly.

The feeling of him pressed against you makes a throbbing sensation start in your pussy, and when his pace increases, you really can’t take it, your fingers trail to your clit, pressing circles, your body jolting in response.

Beomgyu’s cries of pleasure in your ear let you know he’s getting close, and you take your thigh away, a whine leaving his lips. “Please, don’t stop, ‘m so close…”

You don’t answer, fumbling to remove your pants, then his and his boxers. You don’t even bother taking off your panties, just sliding them to the side before kissing him fervently. “Gyu, need you inside,” you murmur against his lips, threading a hand through his hair.

A throaty noise of agreement is all you get in response, and you waste no time, pumping him in your fist twice before lowering yourself down. His tip grows your entrance, your thighs trembling in pleasure, and he can’t help but buck his hips up against yours, coaxing soft moans to bubble up from his lips.

You allow you both to adjust to this new position before slowly moving up and down, thighs burning from the effort. His name falls from your mouth repeatedly, your lips pressed to his neck, your grip tightening on his hair. Beomgyu’s body jolts in a response to your touch, tears pricking his eyes.

“Can you go a little faster for me, Gyu?” You request, your fingers moving to his arm, squeezing his bicep lightly.

His tall, slender frame trembles beneath you at your words, but his speed quickens, whimpers of pleasure leaving him.

You hum in approval, fingers tugging at his hair again. “Such a good boy, my Gyu…”

A small squeak escapes his lips at the name, incoherent whispers pressed to the side of your neck. They grow louder until you can hear him clearly, and within your own fog of pleasure, you smirk again.

“Say it again, please…” Beomgyu begs, eyes squeezed shut and his hands tight on your waist, quickening your speed.

“Say what?” You tease, threading your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “‘My Gyu’?”

He shakes his head quickly, his thrusts becoming sloppy, the tears brimming in his waterline slipping down his cheeks, his pleasure growing to an unbearable height. “Please, say again?”

You move your hands to his shoulders, gripping him tight as your own pleasure makes your legs practically go out, holding him for support as a rush of tingles spread to your legs. “My good boy, Gyu,” you moan out, lips pressed tight together.

Another whimper comes as his thrusts suddenly stop, his hips up and you slid down, your name leaving him in gasps and pleas and his body shaking, twitching slightly as his high hits him, eyes rolled back and back arched.

He looks so fucking pretty like that, fucked-out and tired, buried deep inside you, the hot sensation of his cum leaking out of you and down both your thighs and his, you can’t help but peak at the sight, holding him by his hand, his name leaving you like a chant, a mantra.

You bury your face in his neck, both your breaths ragged, and you giggle slightly. “How come you didn’t tell me you liked to use your pillow?”

His voice is breathy and low, the tone you’ve grown to love so much, when he responds. “Did… didn’t wanna, cause, I don’t know, maybe you’d think I was gross?”

You laugh slightly, laying next to him, him still inside you, your back against his chest. “I’d never think you were gross… I think it’s cute, actually.

“You should let me watch sometime.”

#adas hard hours #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours

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cursedhvn · 1 month ago

Text

𝕲𝖊𝖙𝖍𝖘𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖊 || 𝕮𝖍𝖔𝖎 𝕭𝖊𝖔𝖒𝖌𝖞𝖚

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ pairings ➥ underground boxer!choi beomgyu x investigative journalist!fem! reader ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ genre ➥ strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut [MDNI] ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ word count ➥ 23.7k ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ warnings ➥ dark themes [violence, murder mention, stabbing, gunshot mention, vague sex-traffiicking mention], heavy religious motifs, exploitation, smut warnings [semi-public, oral (f. rec.), fingering, unprotected sex]. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ inspired by ➥ gethsemane [sleep token], missing limbs [sleep token], blood sport [sleep token], moral of the story [ashe]. ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ synopsis ➥ gethsemane /ɡɛθˈsɛməni/ a garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives in East Jerusalem, where Jesus Christ underwent the Agony and was arrested. Places often reminded you of persons, and he—he was your garden—your Eden and you?—You were his Gethsemane. Parallels that didn’t quite meet. Golgotha became your cursed haven—a bitterly sacred place. You never imagined that your journey would lead you here—cuffed, standing at your own Calvary, with a love that never saved, only one meant to break. You sought to grant salvation, but in the end, it was you who needed it the most. Was salvation something you deserved—or had your own betrayal already condemned you to a life beyond redemption?

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ adeline's ✉︎ 𖹭.ᐟ - It's finally out! I added a bit more to the end at the last minute and I still think it's a piece I'm proud of overall. I know I can still improve certain aspects of my writing but for right now this is okay and I'm good with that. Anways I hope you enjoy(❁´◡`❁)

Act I || At the Foot of the Hill

They say that the Garden of Eden was a place, but to you, it was Beomgyu—a person too pure for the world. A victim of the lingering serpent, compelled to consume the forbidden fruit he offered—a fruit that unlocked a part of him that was supposed to remain hidden. Unleashing a darkness that should have never surfaced. And if Beomgyu was like Eden, then you were the Garden of Gethsemane—a betrayer—like Judas, the cause for his silent agony.

The weight of truth and sleep pressed heavily behind your eyes as you blinked it away, forcing yourself to focus on your laptop before you. The cold air from the AC gently kissed your neck, a stark contrast to the boredom that settled in. You enjoyed being an investigative journalist, there was a particular thrill you gained from uncovering corrupt stories that made you feel alive, free—as if life truly held meaning. But lately, when the most interesting news was a fireman rescuing a cat from a tree—an overused cliché—you wondered if journalism still called for you.

The office wasn’t particularly quiet, but it wasn’t extremely noisy either. There was a soft buzz around you, gentle whispers and frantic typing woven neatly into the atmosphere, broken every now and then with an occasional hopeful ring of a phone. Then, a ping from your inbox flashed on your screen, preventing your mind from wandering.

Taehyun: Got some interesting intel for you; an underground fighting ring. There’s something interesting going on, so Boss wants you on it. Bringing you the details now.

Taehyun, your best friend and colleague. You always worked on cases together, something you were appreciative of, not only for his insight but also because he was the more level-headed one between you too, often preventing you from putting yourself in even more danger. You were excited for a more interesting case, something to get your mind buzzing and free from the confines of the office.

“Here,” Taehyun said, sliding a manila folder onto your desk as he appeared beside your cubicle. “It’s right up your alley. Boss wants you to work on it ASAP. Said it's a big one.”

You raised an eyebrow, skimming through the details. “He said that last time too. And all that turned out to be was just some petty spat between shop owners. I wouldn’t trust him.”

“Maybe this time’s different,” Taehyun smirked. “You never know what goes down in that ring.”

Your brows furrowed deeply, “It’s for the rich?” you whispered. “I thought people just did this to make easy money.”

“That’s exactly why it’s interesting,” he replied.

That night, dressed in outfits that cost more than your monthly salaries combined, you and Taehyun stood outside where the supposed underground fighting ring hid. According to the intel, this underground club was meant for people of a certain calibre. Thank God your boss was really banking on a big scoop and decided to generously fund every aspect of the investigation.

“Are you nervous?” Taehyun asked as you descended an inconspicuous flight of stairs.

“Me? Never.”

At the bottom, you’re met with a small bar—quaint—its ambient lighting setting an intimate mood. Clearly (and thankfully) your intel was credible as the patrons within the bar were well-known faces; from famous wealthy businessmen to celebrities were littered across the bar, each doing their own thing. The entrance to the underground fight club wasn’t as discreet as you expected it to be. The door was made from a dark mahogany, carved into it The Creation of Adam while being adorned in golden accents. Beside it stood a guard—tall and buff—dressed in a proper suit as patrons whispered a secret code before he opened the door for them. He was a clear warning but also a very obvious sign of where you needed to be.

The man barely spared you and Taehyun a glance when you made it to the entire, his rough voice cut through the air, “Code?”

“Judas,” Taehyun replied smoothly, eyeing him with intent.

For a heartbeat, surprise flickered in the man’s eyes before he bowed deeply, opening the door for you both. “Sir and Madam, welcome to Golgotha. Please, enjoy your stay.”

You exchanged a glance with Taehyun as you stepped through the grand doors. “What is it with them and the biblical references?” you murmured.

“Rich people.”

Golgotha’s atmosphere left you at a loss for words. Its ambiance mirrored that of the earlier bar, but it felt as though you were transported to an entirely different place. The vaulted ceiling was high—impossibly so—stretching overhead like the nave of a cathedral. The walls were simple, a soft beige that bore various religious paintings, a solemn contrast to the activities that took place. In one corner, there was a small bar that served patrons’ drinks out of lavish gold and red chalices; in another corner had a towering marble sculpture of the three crosses mentioned to be at Golgotha in the bible, a sign of their dedication to the theme.

Seating ranged from simple velvet floor lounges to overhead VIP enclosures with a stage like no other as its glorious centerpiece. Unlike the typical ring, this one was elevated in such a way that it resembled a stone altar, each of its corners with a praying angel standing tall, as velvety blood-red rope weaved through its hands making it secure for the performance. Above it hung a single chandelier—large and made of crystal, one that illuminated the entire space with a warm and inviting glow.

“What the hell is this?” you whispered in awe, overwhelmed with the surroundings.

Amidst the sea of tailored suits and glamorous gowns, there was him. He stood out from the crowd, catching your eye. He was buff—rugged and raw—dressed in a simple tank top and shorts. His eyes were fiery with quiet defiance and his knuckles were wrapped tightly in tape, old scars from previous battles peeking through. A fighter, you thought. And a gorgeous one at that. His hair was slightly tousled as it cascaded along his neck. He was talking to a man beside him, his boss you presumed. His eyes seemed more fiery then as he nodded at whatever the man was telling him. In that moment you knew your story was no longer just about uncovering the secrets of Golgotha but also about him and how he came to be.

A man came to the stage, like everyone else he was dressed nicely in a suit. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out tonight. As the first act of the night is about to begin, we’d like to welcome our performers. On our left, Xavier, a fan favourite.” The patrons clapped and some enthusiastically threw money onto the stage. It was odd, you thought. The way fighting was being treated as an act—a performance—instead of something fighting for their life. “And to our right, Beomgyu, a reigning champion.” The crowd was eerily dead then, a stark comparison to their previous behaviour. Though there were a few claps, it was drowned by the deafening silence.

Choi Beomgyu. Even his name felt hot against your tongue. It rolled off with ease, a forbidden thrill that sent a shiver down your spine. “Enjoy the first act of the evening.” With that, the host stepped back, and the lights dimmed. A sharp gong echoed against the walls, the crowd hushed instantly as Beomgyu and Xavier moved onto the stage.

The moment the referee gave the go-ahead Beomgyu immediately stepped forward with a fluidity that exhibited raw power. This was his altar, his battleground as he seamlessly fought Xavier with ease, dodging his punches with grace. Your heart quickened as you leaned in closer to Taehyun. This wasn’t just a fight—it was a spectacle to the crowd—a performance drenched in sweat and blood. But to Beomgyu, it was more than that—desperation clung miserably to him, with every throw, every dodge, his story waiting to be revealed.

The match ended in a final, breathtaking exchange with Beomgyu as the victor—his knuckles bloodied and bruises blooming like flowers across his body. The crowd was clearly disappointed with the outcome but cheered nonetheless.

“Thank you for enjoying the first act ladies and gentlemen,” the host started as he found his place back on stage. “We will now have a performance by one of our artists. Please enjoy the refreshments as the altar is prepared.”

“Hey, you okay?” Taehyun asked, breaking the silence between you.

You nodded slowly, voice barely above a whisper, “Yeah, more than okay. I think…I think I need to know everything about him. About this world they’re in.”

“Just be careful,” Taehyun pleaded softly, “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”

You ignored the way his words got to you, weaving your way through the crowd and entering through the door Beomgyu had disappeared into. The voices of the crowd still echoed faintly as you stood in the quieter room within Golgotha. It was simpler than the main space, dimly lit with plush carpeting on its floors. There was a small table with refreshments and like the main room, the walls were adorned with religious decor. In the corner, there was a leather couch where you found him, a lit cigarette in his hand as smoke curled around him.

His eyes flickered towards you. “I don’t sleep with men’s wives,” he said, his eyes sharp and unforgiving as you made your way in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow, and the corner of your mouth twitched into a teasing smile. “Well, since I’m no one’s wife you'll make an exception for me, right?”

A small smirk coated his lips. Without answering, he exhaled a ribbon of smoke toward you, playful yet challenging.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re willing to play,” he said after a beat.

“Maybe I like the danger,” you shrugged, leaning in slightly, enjoying the tension that rose between you.

Before the moment could deepen, the door swung open. A man entered frantically.

“I swear to God, Beomgyu. A little heads-up before your match is appreciated. You’re so lucky I didn’t have a night shift or else I wouldn’t know who would tend to your wounds.” The man stopped as he saw you, glancing between you and Beomgyu. “Sorry, he doesn’t sleep with patrons,” his tone clipped as he knelt beside Beomgyu, his hands moving with purpose as he began to tend to the damage from earlier.

“Don’t worry about her, Soobin. She’s fine.”

Still, Soobin eyed you suspiciously, “Whatever the case is, you’re playing with fire. Be careful not to get burned.”

You watched as Soobin tended to Beomgyu’s wounds with ease, delicately wrapping his bruised knuckles. Shamelessly, you stared at Beomgyu as his eyes silently challenged you. You felt the weight of Soobin’s gaze on you, assessing you, almost as if he could see right through your intentions.

“So why is a new patron like you so interested in Beomgyu?” Soobin asked as he packed away his materials in the corner.

“How do you know I’m new?” you asked as you took a seat next to Beomgyu.

Soobin sighed exasperatedly before giving you a pointed look, “It’s obvious you’re a new face. And besides, everyone knows Beomgyu doesn’t entertain them. So, what’s your deal? Why him? And as a matter of fact, how did you even get into Golgotha?”

“Word of mouth,” you said simply. “And Beomgyu? He interests me.”

“I’d appreciate it if you both stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Beomgyu spoke up as he flicked away the remnants of his cigarette.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door before Taehyun came in. He gave the two men a nod of acknowledgment before he said your name softly. “I think we should call it a night.,” he gave you a knowing look. You pouted for a moment before you turned to Beomgyu, “Guess that’s my cue to leave. I’ll see you later, Champ.” Before you left, you leaned closer to Beomgyu, kissing him on the cheek. “A reward,” you whispered, “for winning your match today.”

Beomgyu watched as the door clicked softly behind you, his cheek tingling from the kiss you left him. He pulled out another cigarette, frustrated. Your departure left a tight, uncomfortable ache in his chest.

“What was that all about?” Soobin asked, “You never let patrons get that close.”

He inhaled sharply, letting the cigarette’s warmth encapsulate him. “She’s different,” he murmured with uncertainty, “I don’t know why yet. But I have to have her.” As he exhaled, Beomgyu watched the smoke dance around in the air, under the dim light.

Soobin shook his head, unconvinced, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t trust her. What if Kwang-soo put her up to this? To control you even further?”

Beomgyu’s jaw clenched at the name. Kwang-soo, that bastard, he thought. His boss, someone who was part of his life for too long, someone who only sold him a bittersweet dream.

Beomgyu’s gaze hardened. “Soobin. She’s not like that.”

Soobin scoffed under his breath, “You’ve barely known her for a night, what do you know?”

Beomgyu didn’t flinch, but his voice came quieter. “She didn’t look at me like I was just a performance.”

Soobin frowned, “But what if she is like the others, but smarter? Then what?”

He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, its hissing, a silent warning. “Then I’ll deal with it.”

Soobin rolled his eyes, arms still crossed, but something in his stance softened. “You’re not a child anymore,” he said. “Don’t act like one.”

Beomgyu didn’t respond. He just sat there, his eyes gazing at the ceiling. You weren’t like them, he thought. He was sure of it; he could feel it. Or maybe he just wanted to believe it. Either way, he was already going in too deep. And if you were playing him…maybe he didn't want you to stop.

As soon as the door shut behind you, the buzz of Golgotha returned—almost bringing you back to your reality, but not quite. You mindlessly followed Taehyun until you were by his car, the cold evening breeze raising goosebumps along your arm.

“You’ve got that look again.”

You blinked, still riding the high of Beomgyu’s presence. “What? What look?”

“The ‘I’m about to ruin my life for a guy with bloodied knuckles’ look,” Taehyun said dryly. “Had the same look when you started seeing your ex, remember?”

You looked away, wrapping your arms around yourself. “That was different.”

“Yeah,” he said, opening the door for you. “Beomgyu has better biceps.”

He did have better biceps.

You swatted his arm playfully as you sat inside, a small grin on your lips.

“He’s not like him,” you said as Taehyun took his seat.

He rolled his eyes, “You said that last time and look where that got you.”

You stiffened. “Can we not talk about him right now, Taehyun? Please?”

Taehyun sighed, looking at you sadly. “Anyways, while you were busy giving Beomgyu the bedroom eyes, I actually did some digging.”

You sat up a little straighter, “What did you find out?”

Taehyun glanced at you for a moment before focussing on the road, “Turns out the exploitation, at least, at surface level is true. Kwang-soo, Beomgyu’s boss, is notorious for that kind of behaviour for years. Fed the patrons lies and pocketed most of the money when Beomgyu just started out. It’s only when Beomgyu actually learned to fight things got easier for him.”

You frowned, “So he’s a survivor.”

“More like a pawn who fought back,” Taehyun said with a nod, his expression darkening. “He’s valuable but dangerous. And Kwang-soo? It’s more than exploitation.”

“There’s more?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Taehyun sighed, running his hands through his hair at a red light. “Rumours say that Kwang-soo had the last guy under his wing killed. Not sure how true it is right now, but patrons said the guy was stabbed during a match—no rules in Golgotha, just performance. Everything right now is just rumours though, and no one is willing to talk. We’ll need to dig deeper.”

You frowned, “We have to. For Beomgyu.”

Taehyun raised a brow, “For Beomgyu? What about the story?”

“It’s more than a story now. It’s someone's life.”

You laid wide away that night. The ceiling above you blurred, but it wasn't the room spinning, it was your thoughts. You thought back to Beomgyu. He wasn’t just magnetic, he was fiery—a man forged in violence. A man who built a wall to protect himself from a world that hurt him one too many times. His eyes were the only thing you saw in your mind, the way they bore and tore apart your soul.

You sighed. Unable to sleep with the swirling thoughts, you got up, taking with you a voice recorder. The night was eerily still, perfect to begin recording your findings.

You hit record. The sound of the click was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the room.

“Day 1. Investigation; Underground fighting ring. The first subject, Choi Beomgyu, participant in underground fighting events at Golgotha. His boss is Kwang-soo, a primary suspect in the investigation.”

You cleared your throat, trying your best to keep your tone neutral and focussed—reminding yourself that it wasn’t about feeling but about fact.

“Beomgyu has an established reputation at Golgotha for being a reputable fighter but in his earlier days, Kwang-soo took advantage of his lack of skill to reap profits. But as his fighting skills developed Kwang-soo began seeing a loss. This is all for now pertaining to their relationship, but Beomgyu is a clear victim of exploitation, to what extent? That is yet to be known.”

You paused for a moment, reviewing the details in your head.

“Further discussion with Taehyun suggested that the suspect had a prior fighter before Beomgyu. Based on rumours from the patrons, it seems he had premeditated his death. Currently all the given information is purely based on rumours. More investigation will be done to confirm these claims.”

You thought back to the night once again, recalling the eerie feeling Golgotha had given you. You felt the hairs on your arm rise, this was more than a spectacle, more than a performance. There was something truly evil about there and you were going to get to the bottom of it.

“Golgotha is a place like no other. The rich revel in the exploited fighting for their lives on their behalf. All in the name of performance. There is something deeper than this. With time, the truth will be revealed. This is the end of Day 1.”

With a final click, the recorder went silent. You wanted some form of recording to keep yourself grounded. You had no clue what this story would bring, but you knew that you had no choice but to be prepared for it either way.

“Well?” your boss’s eyes flicked between you and Taehyun. The two of you sat across him in his poorly lit office, the AC working overtime as he intensely gazed at you both. “What do you have?”

“It’s only been one day, sir,” Taehyun said as he leaned forward, his face calm. “We only have information based on word of mouth. There’s no tangible proof just yet.” Your boss’s face hardened.

“And I don’t care, Taehyun. Any information is good information. A story is on the line!”

The atmosphere thickened. Your boss wasn’t one for small talk, nor was he one of patience. He valued information, and he valued it fast. He didn’t care by which means it was given, once it got done.

“Sir,” you started “I have a recording for the first night. We can fill in any excess details after if we believe anything was left out.”

He gave you a small nod of approval. “Good, let’s hear it.”

As your voice played out in the room, you relived the moments again—relived Beomgyu. You remembered his gaze on you, the proximity, the way his natural scent mixed with his cologne of choice that night. You felt it then, and you hoped he felt it too—the undeniable pull between you, something unexplainable.

Your boss’s features spoke for itself; it was a familiar gaze he’d given you when you failed before. “The stakes are higher now.” He said your name harshly, “You’ve been on thin ice before, and I won’t let your decision drag me down again. I don’t care what it takes, but you will get that story. Do not mess up. Do I make myself clear?”

You stiffened, biting back a response. You gazed at Taehyun beside you who watched you with worry coating his features. He knew the mistakes of your past and the inevitable spark that would form between you and Beomgyu, he just didn’t know what decision you’d make this time.

“Do I make myself clear?” your boss asked again, his voice clipped.

You nodded, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Yes, sir. Understood.”

He gave another small nod before his features tightened. “Don’t come back until you’ve got something solid. No rumours, just the truth.” With that, he stood, dismissing you both without so much as a glance back, turning his back before either of you could speak.

Taehyun’s eyes met yours as you came out of the office. “Will you be okay?” he asked, “with Beomgyu?”

You didn’t respond right away, the recorder in your hand felt heavier than before.

“I just…have to use Beomgyu for the truth. I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“It’s more than just a story to you,” he continued “I hope you’re able to make the right decision when the time comes.”

Maybe you would be ready, maybe you wouldn’t. But for now, you decided to live in the moment—exploring another’s life, another story. And maybe, just maybe you would find love along the way.

Act II || Your Forbidden Fruit

From that moment on, things were in full swing. Every night, like clockwork, you found yourself at Golgotha, with or without Taehyun. It wasn’t that the world was magnetic—no—it was more than that. You strived for the idea of living another life, one that wasn’t confined to the walls of the office, one where you played a more confident version of yourself, a version that could dance with danger.

Three months passed and frustratingly your relationship with Beomgyu remained the same—tense and unmoving. Every time you felt as though progress would be made, and a story would unravel before your eyes, Soobin always remained nearby. Like a watchful guardian, his presence served as a constant reminder of the imaginary boundary you dare not cross. But Soobin, as much as he tried, couldn’t always be there.

That night, everything changed.

Taehyun didn’t join you then. Despite his involvement in the case, other stories at the office took precedence, especially with no progress being made. You wore a simpler gown, sleek black, one that hugged your curves beautifully and its dramatic open back that left for a pleasant surprise.

As usual, you met Beomgyu in his locker room after his match. He was graceful as always, a definite force of nature. Even as blood trickled down his lip in his victory, he looked damn good.

“Beomgyu, good fight as usual,” you said as you entered. He was on the couch as usual, medical supplies in hand as he tried to patch himself up, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated.

“Is Soobin not coming tonight?” you asked, taking a seat next to him.

He grunted in response. “Has a late-night shift tonight. So, I gotta do it myself.”

Your eyes filled with worry. “Here let me help. You can’t possibly do this on your own.”

Beomgyu watched as you took the supplies from him, a glint in his eyes. “Do you even know how to clean someone up? Can’t afford to have your pretty rich hands getting dirty now.”

You looked at him, determined. “I think I can do an okay job.”

“Alright,” he said softly, “Patch me up.”

Gently, you soaked the cloth in antiseptic before brushing it against his bruised cheek, his skin, smooth against your fingertips. He hissed, leaning into you as you cleaned the cuts, the scent of sweat and alcohol mingled in the air.

“You’re…surprisingly gentle,” he murmured. “Not like I thought a rich girl would be.”

You smirked, but heat rose to your cheeks. “Maybe I’m not what you expect.” Beomgyu’s gaze softened ever so slightly. His eyes no longer felt like a raging fire but had a tenderness to it.

Slowly, your hand moved to his slightly swollen lip, cleaning away the remnants of blood that dries on the corner. He leaned into you, the warmth from his body felt overwhelming against yours. You glanced up at him, searching his eyes for something, anything.

Suddenly, he pulled you even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I don’t let anyone get so close,” he confessed. “What is it about you that makes it so hard to be away?” Then, without warning, he kissed you. Softly. Tenderly. A stark contrast to his rough exterior. You tasted him—salt, sweet and smoke mixed together with the faintest trace of metal. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer. The only thing that mattered was the way his lips felt against yours.

The kiss deepened, becoming fiercer, more desperate as Beomgyu’s hands found their way on your waist. As he pulled you onto his lap, the moment felt unreal. The liveliness of Golgotha disappeared into the background, leaving you two in a world of your own.

“Beomgyu,” you breathed against his mouth, almost begging for more. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense, lips smeared in your lipstick.

“Ah, what do we have here?” A new voice entered, shattering the moment. Your body froze, but Beomgyu’s grip tightened on your waist, holding you in place.

“Kwang-soo,” he growled, “What do you want?”

So, this was Kwang-soo, you thought. His gaze was sharp, his eyes flickered around the room like a predator. There was something about him that felt off, you weren’t sure what it was but the way he moved felt unnatural, too calculated, too deliberate.

“Wanted to talk business,” he said, his eyes lingering a moment too long on you. “But it seems like I interrupted something.” He smirked. “Lookin’ to sponsor him, sweetheart? He’s worth it. Can guarantee you’ll double your money.”

Beomgyu’s grip tightened even more, his eyes returned to their fiery state as Kwang-soo stepped closer. “Not interested,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“C’mon darlin’. One match, you’ll be richer than before. I promise ya.”

“That’s enough Kwang-soo,” Beomgyu interjected. “Go and scheme someone else out of their money. Leave her out of it.”

Kwang-soo sighed, giving you a lingering, almost predatory look. “Alright, alright. But if you ever change your mind…” He winked at you, before turning on his heel, leaving the room.

You shivered. Gross.

Beomgyu rested his chin on your shoulder. “Don't worry about him,” he whispered. “He's just my boss.”

“Your boss?”

Beomgyu hummed, his lips grazing your neck. “Yeah, I hate him.”

“Why?”

“He exploited me for years,” he murmured against you. “Made my life hell.”

“Then why not leave?”

“Sometimes it's hard to leave the hand that feeds you,” he murmured.

You looked down at him, your heart tight. “I’ll be here to listen if you need me to.”

Beomgyu’s hand glided along your back, the coolness of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine. “I'll tell you everything, pretty. In time.”

With his lingering touch, you leaned into him, listening to his heart beat against his chest slowly. This was more than a kiss, this was a choice. This was you consuming your forbidden fruit. No matter what you said to try to convince yourself, you couldn’t deny it anymore. Beomgyu was temptingly sweet.

“You’re mine now,” Beomgyu whispered, caressing your hair softly.

You nodded. You had chosen this. And now, there would be no going back.

Since that night, everything between you and Beomgyu shifted—subtle but undeniable. You found yourself at Golgotha even earlier, savouring his presence before matches, enjoying the tender kisses that became more frequent with each passing day. As always, you visited him after each match, sharing a lingering kiss as a reward for his victory before Soobin came.

But it was only a matter of time before the secret moments blurred into everyday life, regardless of who was there.

The first time you kissed him in Soobin’s presence, the tension was so thick, not even a knife could cut through it. It happened so unconsciously. One moment you were laughing over something ridiculous after his match and before you knew it, your lips were on his, the kiss soft but lingering.

Soobin froze. His hands stilled in midair, his medical supplies clattering to the floor as the scene played out before him. He didn’t even spare you a glance. Instead, his gaze was solely fixed on Beomgyu, sharp and unreadable. His jaw clenched tightly; his body taut with barely contained frustration.

“Are you serious, Beomgyu?” his voice strained, disbelief and anger evident. “Really? Her?”

Beomgyu didn’t flinch, seemingly unaffected by the tension or his words. He simply smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, deliberately testing Soobin’s patience.

“What, Soobin? You gonna beat my ass?” Beomgyu teased, a playful edge evident in his voice.

Soobin’s lips quivered in annoyance. “She just pops up out of nowhere, gives you a bunch of sweet words and you just give in? Just like that? Are you stupid?”

Beomgyu’s smile dropped, all playfulness gone. “That’s not any of your concern, Soobin. What I do with her isn’t any of your business.”

“But it is!” Soobin stood up in anger. “You’re my best friend and I can’t watch you get used by

some rich whore.”

Your heart broke at his words. You knew Soobin was speculative of you, hell, he had a right to be, but hearing him speak like that, even if your true intentions weren’t pure, felt like he meticulously stabbed a knife in your chest. Before you could defend yourself, Beomgyu’s voice cut through with a coldness only reserved for Kwang-soo.

“Enough, Soobin. You can say all the other shit you want, but don’t call her a whore, that’s going too far. You don’t know her.”

“And neither do you!” his voice cracked. With a sharp breath, Soobin finally turned to the door. “I can’t have another person use you,” he said softer before storming out of the room, slamming the door with a resounding bang.

Beomgyu pressed a soft kiss against your shoulder, his way to silently comfort you. “I'm sorry about him. He'll come around soon, I'll promise.”

“I'm not sure about that,” you laughed softly. “He really doesn't like me.”

“He's just protective. And this is not me excusing his behaviour. Just wanted you to understand his perspective.”

You gazed at him softly, “I know, Beomgyu. I understand.”

Eventually, Taehyun also noticed the way you became, more avoidant, more silent. The tension that night was higher than usual between you, Taehyun didn't talk as much, as if his mind was distant.

He said your name softly. “I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Okay. Is everything alright?” you asked.

“When were you going to tell me?”

You stopped. Your heart started to race. You didn't like where this conversation was headed.

“What are you talking about?” you asked defensively.

Taehyun rubbed his temples, saying your name harsher this time. “Don't do that to me. I'm not stupid.”

He sighed before continuing, “When were you going to tell me that you started kissing Beomgyu?”

You felt your heart drop. You definitely did not like where this conversation was headed.

“Taehyun I—”

“No. You don't get to apologize. I understand that you had some weird connection to him but you're going to get yourself hurt.”

“It's for the story,” you defended.

“You and I both know that's bullshit.”

His words were harsh, there was no room for comfort. You knew why he did this, but it didn't hurt any less.

“You don't get it, Taehyun,” you said.

“I don’t get it?” Taehyun looked at you as if you were stupid.

“I do get it. I was the one who saw you live through it. The rush, the trill, the way you think you’re so desperately helping him but you're only going to hurt yourself again.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” the words tore from your throat before you could stop them, raw and jagged at the edges. “You think I don’t remember what happened? It happened right in front of my eyes, Taehyun. I killed her.”

Taehyun’s face faltered for a second. His breath shaky as he took a step closer. His voice dropped to a whisper, “You didn’t kill anyone. But the man you fell in love with did.”

The world felt as if it was spinning. You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the salty taste of your tears brush against your lips. You squeezed your eyes trust, desperately trying to keep the past buried but it crashed in with the force of a tidal wave, pulling you under.

You could still see his face—the fear, the betrayal—as the police stormed in. The gunshot still echoed in your ears as the victim crumpled to the ground. He hadn’t meant it. He really hadn’t. But it didn’t change the fact that he killed her.

Everything felt like a blur—the way you rushed to the victim, her warm, sticky blood coated your hands and soaked through your clothes—but his eyes were the only thing that remained. It was always the eyes. His weren’t fiery—no—they were cold, afraid, betrayed. You were his Judas, his demise and in some sick way, he was yours too.

“I just wanted to fix him, Taehyun,” you sobbed, your voice breaking. “I thought I could make things right.”

“And you think you can do it again?” Taehyun asked softly, his hand brushing against your shoulder.

You nodded. No matter how much you thought about it, there was no saving him, he was already too far gone.

You were naïve then. A doe-eyed 21-year-old ready to take on the world. It was your first big-girl case, an investigation into the corporate world. And your target? Lee Dong-wook—corporate heir on the Forbes 30 Under 30 list. His name was everywhere, the epitome of success. He was the kind of man everyone wanted to be or be with.

You should’ve known something was wrong when he so easily welcomed you into his world—his unavoidable charm and charisma reeling you in effortlessly, setting you ablaze. “You have potential,” he had told you the first time, but something darker hid beneath the surface. “Glad to see a beautiful, young investigative journalist like you, make your mark in the world.”

You thought it was pure genuineness at first, but every praise was a calculated move, involving you seamlessly into his world until you were too far gone. It was the small things at first, from the late nights to the drinks at high-end restaurants, the conversation never stayed on business, just you.

Then, there was a crack, and the hidden part of his world revealed itself. His eyes were no longer warm; they were icy cold. The darkness creeped in gradually before it consumed you entirely. He showed you the other side of his empire—the drugs, the shady dealings, the trafficking, the girls.

Those poor girls. Just like you, young and naïve.

It wasn’t part of his plan, for him to fall in love with you so deeply, and maybe that was the worst part. You were never meant to be anything, just another casualty.

You remembered the first girl you saw, eyes wide with fear, pale as if she was a ghost. She didn’t belong there, but he made sure you belonged.

Dong-wook's grip tightened on your wrist, pulling you away from the girl harshly. “Remember what I told you, sweetheart,” he muttered. “No paying attention to them. They’re insignificant.”

You hated yourself for it. For gathering the evidence, for getting the police involved so hastily. But it wasn’t just the investigation. You were scared—scared that more girls would’ve become like her—lost, broken, used.

You wanted to save her. You wanted to save him. You wanted to save yourself.

But in the end? No one was saved.

You were on temporary layoff after that. The company faced severe backlash when news spread that you had mishandled sensitive information and escalated the situation by getting too involved with the suspect. The world seemed to turn against you, but they never understood that you were a victim too caught between what you thought was right and the sweet lies he fed you.

Days had blurred, the only that remained was the guilt, the regret, the nightmares. Therapy and Taehyun were the only things that felt grounding, but even then, it wasn’t easy. Reliving the moments to understand what you went through was tortuous—maddening—when you realized you deep you had allowed yourself to fall into it.

Taehyun tried his best to be there. He wasn’t assigned to the case directly, only able to watch from the sidelines, but you shared every detail with him. You had been his partner before the storm hit, and after? You weren’t even sure you were yourself.

But Taehyun tried, he tried so hard to keep you afloat, refusing to let the guilt of the case consume you. No one but you could’ve fixed this, no matter how hard anyone tried, only you had the capabilities to save yourself from well…you.

It took some time, more time than you’d like to admit, but for that very first time, you remembered how to float, how to breathe again. Pieces of yourself were broken then, and there were still some broken pieces now. But now, you could breathe.

You heard Taehyun calling your name, his voice breaking through the fog. Slowly, you became aware of your surroundings. You were back in the parking lot. Your senses felt heightened—tears had long since stopped falling but your legs ached. You somehow ended up crouching, knees pressed against your chest. The cold air against your skin jolted you back to reality, reeling you in from the dark corners of your mind.

“Hey, you okay?” Taehyun’s voice was soft now, laced with concern. “I’m sorry if I was too harsh. I just… want to protect you. I’m not saying Beomgyu is like Dong-wook. You just need to think of all the possibilities when faced with the unknown.”

You knew he meant well. Taehyun always meant well. But you couldn’t bring yourself to respond, not because you didn’t want to, but because of the lump stuck in your throat. So, you simply nodded.

Months passed. Slowly pieces of confirmed information came to light. Golgotha was surprisingly very thorough when it came to protecting their information, maybe the number of high-profile clients involved had something to do with it.

“Day 153. It's been roughly five months since I’ve started unveiling the secrets of Golgotha. But things have been…slow. Golgotha is very particular with the information they have pertaining to clients and staff. We were able, however, to get our hands on the file of Kwang-soo. We hope to find more information on the mastermind behind this, but for now, this is what we have.”

You paused. The last five months felt terribly stagnant. The mastermind behind Golgotha was careful, perhaps a bit too careful. You watched as the rain condensed against your window. You had a feeling something bad was coming, but you didn’t think much of it—hoping it was just the anxiety talking.

“The file confirms that Kwang-soo, Park Kwang-soo, is in fact known to be the primary person within Golgotha to exploit his workers, at times, leaving them to live in sub-par conditions. Additionally, the file also indicates that 10 years ago, he had Chu Jung-Hwa, his last client before Choi Beomgyu murdered as he played him at his own game, exploiting him of his own money. This further solidifies that Kwang-soo is not only a suspect, but also a threat to Choi Beomgyu. This is all the information for now. With time, the mastermind will be revealed.”

With the familiar click of the recorder, you concluded another day. You hoped things became more interesting soon, something to shatter the monotony of everything. And to clarify, you loved the time you spent with Beomgyu, you were just scared you lost yourself even worse this time.

And things became more interesting indeed. Just…not in the way you hoped. An unlikely friendship formed between Soobin and Taehyun, both bonding over their shared protective nature for Beomgyu and you, respectively.

It was almost comedic to witness. Soobin would glare at you suspiciously, his eyes narrowing, only to turn around and happily engage in conversation with Taehyun. And Taehyun? He was no better. He hardly spared Beomgyu a glance, focusing instead on his budding friendship with Soobin, whom he deemed “the only other sane, sensible one in this symbolically religious hellhole.”

Both you and Beomgyu smiled at the absurdity of it all—thankful that in the midst of Golgotha’s chaos, a common ground had been found. You just hoped that when the truth began to unveil, the formed friendship would remain the same.

“Let’s go for drinks,” Soobin had suggested to Taehyun one night. You and Beomgyu were cozying up on the couch while Soobin and Taehyun sat on another—a recent addition to the room. Soobin watched you both, eyes narrowing before muttering, “You guys can join too, I guess.”

Golgotha was lively as always with patrons enjoying the performances of the night. But in the corner of your eye, you saw red. Bright red hair. His smile was unbelievably confident, and a charm that was sure to turn heads. He made immediate eye contact with you, one that read “Jackpot”.

“Soobin. Beomgyu,” he greeted. He stared at Taehyun, who received only a polite smile, clearly uninterested before he turned to you, eyes glimmering with intent. “And who might this lovely lady be?” When you said your name softly, he took your hand, kissing it gently, “The pleasure is mine. Yeonjun’s the name.” He flashed you a charming smile, the smile becoming even larger when Beomgyu wrapped a protective arm around your waist.

“Back off, Yeonjun,” he hissed. “Don’t even think about it.”

Yeonjun smirked, unfazed. “C’mon Beomgyu, lemme have her. Everyone knows you don’t associate yourself with patrons. Gotta know if she’s willing to sponsor me.” He winked at you, clearly hoping you’d get the hint.

“Sorry,” you said softly, “I don’t sponsor fighters. I just like Beomgyu.”

Yeonjun looked at you in shock, “Him?! I can offer you so much more, sweetheart.”

“Yeonjun,” Beomgyu interjected, his town sharp. “You go through women like they’re cheap underwear. Leave my girl alone.”

Yeonjun’s smirk somehow grew even larger. “Your girl, huh? Well…if you ever want a change…” he trailed off, waving goodbye, going God knows where.

Soobin and Taehyun exchanged amused glances, watching Beomgyu with barely concealed grins. “What was that about?” Soobin spoke up, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Just shut up and let’s go for the dumb drinks, Soobin,” Beomgyu grumbled.

“So, I’m your girl, huh?” you teased, leaning into him.

He smiled as he looked down at you, warmth in his gaze. “Of course you are.”

“Who was he though?” you asked, curiosity piqued.

“Rival,” Beomgyu grunted. “He’s the only person in Golgotha that has the potential to beat my ass. He’s just annoying in the ring. Don’t mind him much.”

You rested your head against Beomgyu’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath. Taehyun and Soobin ignored you as usual, enjoying their own world, leaving you two alone. Beomgyu held your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over it slowly as you waited for your drinks to arrive.

Something felt off.

The warmth of his touch should’ve been comforting, but there was a strange unease twisting in your chest. The sound of his heartbeat only seemed to summon the raging storm called your thoughts —your past, present and future overlapped—overwhelmed with possibilities, of things that could have been and the things that could be.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him.

At first, you deemed it nothing, just a flicker—a flash of movement. But said movement lingered, cold eyes staring at you, his cold eyes. It was dark, but the features you made out could have only belonged to one person.

Dong-wook.

He should have been in jail, you thought. There was no way he’d be there. It shouldn't have been possible, not after everything. But the longer you stared, the more you became convinced that it was him.

Adrenaline rushed in and your throat closed up. Your heart pounded aggressively against your chest, trying to escape. Your body tensed. This shouldn't be happening right now.

“Hey, you okay?” Beomgyu’s voice broke through, laced with concern. His other arm tightened around you, almost as if he sensed your panic. “You suddenly tensed up. Is something wrong?”

The eyes stayed. No matter how much you blinked, Dong-wook's icy cold eyes never seemed to disappear.

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, forcing a weary smile. “Just thought I saw someone from my past.”

Taehyun’s ears perked up at your words. His gaze immediately shifted to you.

“Where?” he asked, his conversation with Soobin long forgotten. The moment Taehyun looked to where you pointed, his eyes were gone.

“There’s no one there. Are you okay?”

You waved your hand dismissively, “I’m fine, really. I probably just need some sleep.”

Taehyun stared at you a touch longer before he turned his attention back to Soobin while Beomgyu gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “You sure?” he asked, “I can fight, baby. Just say the word.”

You nodded again, more firmly this time. “Don’t worry, Gyu. It’s alright.”

He didn’t seem convinced but chose not to push you further.

Despite wanting to convince yourself that it was okay, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was there. The shadow of your past was back, and he was closer than you thought.

Act 3 || Flesh and Fire

Beomgyu leaned against a wall in his locker room, smoking a cigarette as the sound of Golgotha simmered beyond the walls. Nothing was special about today’s performance, but for some reason he felt more tense than usual. He exhaled the smoke, its warmth doing nothing to alleviate his unease.

He needed to focus, to block out everything else. But his thoughts kept slipping back into a past he wished he’d forgotten. Beomgyu closed his eyes, but the thoughts seemed to fester more.

Kwang-soo

The name made his jaw clench. He had promised him then. At eighteen and desperate to make a living, Kwang-soo appeared with flowery words laced with thorns, promising an easy life, easy money. What bullshit that turned out to be. Kwang-soo was nothing but a greedy bastard who cared about no one but himself. Carving a profit out of the pain Beomgyu was left to suffer.

Things were hard then. Seven years ago, Beomgyu was nothing but a punching bag in the ring. Every punch, every fall, every bitter taste of defeat was seared into his memory. Week after week, he was knocked down, a terrible fighter, barely able to hold himself up. Yet with every loss, Kwang-soo’s pockets grew heavier. Like Beomgyu, the patrons succumbed to Kwang-soo’s words, betting millions on him, just to lose it all in the end.

And Beomgyu’s share? Pity scraps that barely covered his basic needs.

But with every loss, he learned. Ached. Grew. Came back stronger. Not because he wanted to, but because he needed to. It was no longer about money, but survival. Slowly and painfully, he started winning. Eventually, Beomgyu started placing small bets on himself—not openly, of course. Kwang-soo would never allow that. He asked Soobin to do it for him and eventually his money flowed back to him. Not because of fighter insights, but because he was just that good.

Still, the fools kept betting against him. Chasing pity miracles, hoping to one day see his fall from the grace he had bled to reach. And Kwang-soo? He hated every minute of it. But staying true to his greedy nature, he switched sides—taking a cut from his winnings. A cut that no longer left him bleeding.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was that Beomgyu had allowed it. Allowed the bastard to profit off his pain. For so long, Beomgyu had been his puppet. But not anymore; it was his playground now.

His mind flickered to you, pulling him out of his spiral. It always seemed to be you these days. Seven months. 213 days. Beomgyu had come to know you in seven months and life hasn’t been so good since. He thought you were like every other patron at first. But now? You had become so much more.

It didn’t happen all at once, it was gradual. Despite your initial interaction, despite the pull he felt, Beomgyu heeded Soobin’s words, keeping you at an arm’s length. But you were persistent. Not in a domineering kind of way—you didn’t treat Beomgyu as if he was just another part of the act. You showed genuine interest in him, something that wasn’t seen among people of that stature, especially when it came to people like him.

You came every night, never missing a moment to truly talk with him. Even during the days, he barely spared you a glance, you stayed—choosing to keep quiet in the corner of the room, quietly smiling at his interactions with Soobin. With time, you melted his ice and by the time he blinked you became an integral part of his life.

You became his light, his reason—offering him something he once lost—his humanity. He lost himself once before, when the anger and resentment consumed him. But now, he had you—his guiding light among the dark and terrible sea of manipulation and greed. To him, you were the biggest anomaly.

Now that he had you, Beomgyu feared he’d lose you. People fed on betrayal, greed—using others for their own gain. There was some part in each of us that reeked of Judas—not necessarily in a literal sense, but as a reflection of human imperfection. He just hoped that you were the latter.

Not now, he thought. He couldn’t afford for his mind to wander to you now. Not before the match. Beomgyu drew in a deep breath, shaking off the weight of past memories and you. He needed to get through this fight, the last one for the night before his mind could have you.

He finished his cigarette, crushing the remnants under his shoe before taking a deep breath and making his way to the main room. His eyes immediately found your face in the crowd, but his jaw clenched. Yeonjun. So that was the reason he felt tense, he thought.

Yeonjun found his way back to you, his grabby hands around your shoulder as you both laughed. You seemed to be enjoying it. Beomgyu hoped you were just being polite, for Yeonjun's sake. It wasn’t like him to be jealous. But his stomach twisted in unease at the proximity between you. He hated it. Beomgyu refused to admit that jealousy was present. He didn’t want to acknowledge the unfamiliar heat that rose in his chest.

He needed his match over. Now. His hands were antsy to do something, anything to get his mind off Yeonjun’s touch contaminating you. He felt temporary relief as the host announced his match, thankful you found your way back to his side of the ring. You gave him a knowing smile. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes, almost as if the entire scene was a deliberate means of testing his very thin patience.

He gritted his teeth as he stepped into the ring, barely registering the liveliness of Golgotha in his ears. All that mattered now was getting the match over with. He almost felt sorry for whoever was going to receive the brunt of his annoyance.

Yeonjun entered the stage. He had forgotten he was fighting him—now, he felt no remorse.

The gong rang and Beomgyu’s body sprang into motion. Focus. That was his mantra. All he did was focus on you—your smile, your laugh, your everything—just you. With each thought, his punches landed faster, harder, stronger.

Yeonjun. That fucking smile. The way he touched you. And the way you let him.

Beomgyu’s knuckles cracked against Yeonjun’s ribs, the sound barely registering to him as blood flowed through his ears. The only thing running through his mind was the way fingers were against you. Yeonjun staggered, but Beomgyu didn’t stop, landing another punch, stronger than the last.

Despite the punches Yeonjun took, he had the audacity to smirk, taunting him with that dumb confident look on his face. Beomgyu’s blood boiled, dodging Yeonjun’s shitty attempts at punches, slamming a fist straight into his face.

But that wasn’t enough. Beomgyu needed him down. He wanted to break him, destroy him for even thinking he could touch you that way. And with a final blow, his fist kissed Yeonjun’s jaw, sending him crumpling to the ground. The gong rang again, bringing him back to his senses.

He didn’t care for the host’s commentary or the patrons' applause. His eyes immediately searched the crowd; all he wanted was you. He climbed out of the ring, making his way to you—his chest feeling full, having finally found you.

Before you could even react, he grabbed your face, crashing his lips against yours, possessive and urgent. This was his message. Every ounce of jealousy oozed out of him as he savoured your taste. You were his. And if you didn’t know that before, now you knew.

The kiss was raw. There was no gentleness, no easing in. This was pure need. Possession. He couldn’t explain it—not to you, not to himself—savouring the way you whimpered against him.

“You’re mine,” he rasped as he pulled away for air. He watched your eyes intensely, seeing the way you gasped for air. “You’re fucking mine. You hear me? No one else's.”

“And what a beautiful conclusion to such a wonderful performance, ladies and gentlemen,” the host concluded as he and the fellow patrons watched on.

Without giving you a chance to speak, he dragged you through the crowd, ignoring the surprise on your face at his very forward action. His grip didn’t loosen once, aggressively opening the door to his locker room as he yanked you inside.

Beomgyu’s eyes darkened. If you were going to act like you didn’t know, Beomgyu was going to make damn sure that you understood that he owned every single inch of you.

Fuck, you thought. You were royally fucked, and quite literally at that, but it’s not like you had mind.

You savoured the way Beomgyu’s lips found their way back on yours as the door to his locker room closed behind you. The kiss had a different kind of fierceness to it—one you didn’t experience before, one that ignited an inextinguishable fire within you. He had you up against the wall, trapped, with no room for escape. He pulled away from you, his eyes bleeding with a fiery passion. “You belong to me,” he growled, “No one else. Only me.”

His hands gripped your waist tightly as he kissed along your neck, determined to mark every inch of your skin as his. You whined, dizzy with pleasure as you felt the heat radiating from his body. Every part of you that he touched burned with desire, longing, a desperate need for more.

“Beomgyu,” you moaned as he left passionate marks on your neck’s sensitive skin. Each hickey was just the start of his possessive claim of you. He trailed his mouth downward, the fiery kisses became a touch softer, leaving more trails between your chest, your low-cut dress giving him ease of access.

Beomgyu ripped your dress off with a vengeance. “You could afford another one, can’t you?” he murmured against your chest. You shivered as the cold air caused your nipples to perk up, holding back a moan as Beomgyu took your breasts into his hands, massaging them as he returned to your neck once more.

“Come on, love,” Beomgyu whispered against your neck. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”

And just like that, your moans began to echo off the walls. There was no sense of time here—just the two of you stuck in limbo. With ease, Beomgyu picked you up, the sweat from his skin dripping onto you as he moved you to the couch.

“I need to remind you of who you belong to,” Beomgyu said as he spread your legs open, leaving more kisses along your thighs, each one sending a gentle shockwave through you. The more Beomgyu kissed every inch of you, the more your core throbbed, eager to have him in indescribable ways. He slipped a finger through the delegate fabric of your lingerie, tracing along the edge with a slow deliberate touch.

He chuckled darkly before he nudged the fabric to the side, pressing a teasing kiss against your core. “This is about my pleasure,” he grunted as he looked up at you, his eyes filled with hunger and possession. “I need to teach you a valuable lesson.”

As his lips met with your core, he worshipped you with a sense of reverie—savouring every inch of you—your taste—his holy communion, his bread and wine. He gripped your thighs open, his tongue honouring every one of your folds.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he murmured before going back in again.

Each wave of pleasure that coursed through you felt like different parts of your higher self were being unlocked. His tongue traced slow, deliberate patterns, flicking gently, teasing you as you so desperately whined, begging him for more.

Beomgyu pulled back, pulling your face down, capturing you in another searing kiss. His tongue danced with yours, the salty-sweet of you mixed with the flavour of his cigarette smoke. “Savour your taste,” he whispered against your lips, “Don’t let this moment go to waste.”

His fingers traced your body once more, your sensitivity even more than before. He rubbed his fingers against your core teasingly, looking up at you with a mischievous look on his face before he slowly slid a finger inside you. He moved with deliberate, slow movements, teasing you as you adjusted to the new sensation inside you.

You whined, your body desperately wanting more. “Look at you,” Beomgyu tutted as you squirmed under his gaze. “Such a desperate slut,” he teased as he slid another finger inside you, curling his fingers just enough, finding the perfect spot that made you shiver uncontrollably. You whimpered, helpless beneath his touch, your mind hazy with pleasure as his fingers continued to pound rhythmically into you.

Your moans grew louder, your body arched with need as you felt your climax building up. His eyes locked unto yours, dark and teasing as he slipped his fingers out of you. A smirk spread across his lips as you whined, aching and undone.

“Not yet,” he whispered, “You can only cum while I'm in you.” Beomgyu’s gaze never left yours, his body tracing your curves once more before he began to strip away his clothes, his length becoming even more apparent, girthy—desperate for you. With one fluid motion, he lined himself up with you, teasingly rubbing his tip against your swollen clit. You whined.

“You’re mine,” he reminded you again. “No one else will ever feel you the way I do.”

Beomgyu then buried himself into you slowly, tortuously. The sensation of him buried inside you sent hot pinpricks cascading across your skin—your body was on fire. Your body instinctively arched as every inch of him found a home inside you. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as his lips found your neck once more.

His pace was slow and deliberate, a rhythm that consumed you—raw and unrelenting. “Beomgyu…” you whimpered. “Faster, please.” He pulled back, his passionate eyes locking with your lidded ones—doubling the sensations you felt.

“Not until the way I feel inside you is ingrained into you,” he growled. “Not until you know every inch of me.”

You felt everything. Every nerve ending sent an electrical signal throughout your body. Your mind was hazed as Beomgyu’s tip kissed your cervix.

“Say it,” Beomgyu growled low, “Say you’re mine.”

The words tumbled out of you like a rushed confession, “I’m yours, Beomgyu.” Tears pricked at your lash line, threatening to spill over—the pleasure was overbearing. “Fuck, I’m yours.”

“Good girl,” he smiled darkly as his pace quickened—each thrust a fierce claim, an increased sense of urgency. Your breath quickened; the waves of pleasure crashed into you unapologetically. Every aspect of Beomgyu was intoxicating, from his musky sent to the way his skin glistened and stuck to you—the moment felt unreal.

This was your sin—not from the tree of knowledge but one of the seven. Lust—it was undeniably sweet—and in some symbolic way, he was your Adam and you, his Eve. Succumbing to your desires, surrendering to the intoxicating allure of lust, submitting to each other.

“Fuck,” Beomgyu groaned, “you’re so fucking tight.” Somehow his pace intensified, pushing the limits to how deep he can be inside you. Your body shuddered beneath him, trembling as your pleasure built up.

As Beomgyu’s grip on you tightened, you felt him tense and twitch inside you. With a sharp, guttural sound, his climax hit—his cum spilled, hot and sticky, a primal mark of possession that sent even more heat through your veins. The sensation triggered your own release crash through you, loud and fierce, like a tidal wave, a perfect echo to his.

Beomgyu picked you up again, resting your body against his as he sank onto the couch, his cum spilling out of you slowly. His breath was heavy and uneven as his lips crashed onto yours, the raw, possessive desire still present.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. His hands traced your trembling body, “in every breath, every touch, every moment. No one else will ever have you like this.”

He pulled back strands of your hair that stuck to your face, “Especially Yeonjun,” he whispered before kissing you softly, his gentle promise to you.

Only your breathing filled the silence, the two of you wrapped in the hush of what had just transpired. The air was heavy, a sacred, still moment suspended in time. This was your garden—your Eden—before the fall, before the crash; a time that would soon fade into a distant memory.

Suddenly the door swung open, and Beomgyu’s grip around you tightened. Soobin entered, focusing on his supplies as he talked. “Beomgyu! I heard your fight with Yeonjun was a hit among the patrons. Something about what you did at the end. What was it…” he trailed off, looking up, his eyes widened in shock at the sight before him, the both of you naked and entwined.

His hands immediately covered his eyes as he groaned. “Ugh, you guys are disgusting!” he exclaimed, a deep crimson rising to his cheeks. “Could it not wait?”

“Sorry man. Had to teach her a lesson,” Beomgyu spoke up, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Gross! Just call me in when you’re decent.”

“Uh, Soobin,” you called out, feeling embarrassed. “Could you grab me a change of clothes?”

He peeked through his fingers, “What happened to your clothes?” he asked, his tone in disbelief.

“I destroyed it,” Beomgyu said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

“Of course you did,” Soobin mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief as he turned to leave.

You turned to Beomgyu as the door closed, both of you grinned in amusement. The moment shifted, becoming softer as Beomgyu gazed at you lovingly. He leaned in and kissed you again—this time not with hunger, not possession— it was raw, genuine love. It was slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that said everything for words that hadn’t been found yet.

And if you succumbed to the Judas within you in the end, you’d make sure to savour these moments—because when the day of crucifixion came, you'd become undone on the cross, offering everything for the sins that could never be undone.

Guilt wrapped itself around you, threading through your fingertips, causing your hands to tremble. You promised yourself to do this—you had to. Telling Taehyun you slept with Beomgyu wasn’t ideal. Nothing about it was. But sooner or later—one way or another—he’d find out, and who better to tell him than you, right? Wrong.

You knew what Taehyun would say. You knew the protocol. Yes, you’d become too involved, that was obvious from the start. But how could you help it when Beomgyu loved you in a way you never thought you’d experience?

You picked at your lip as you stood outside of Taehyun’s apartment. Showing up unannounced wasn’t unlike you, but if you thought about it any longer, you wouldn’t be able to go through with it at all.

With the ring of his doorbell, you heard him call, “Coming!” muffled by the door. Your anxiety spiked with the sound of his voice. You prayed Taehyun would understand your complexity of the situation.

He opened the door, his doe eyes widening in shock as he took in the sight of you standing there. His expression shifted to confusion as he softly spoke your name. “What are you doing here? Not that I don’t want you, but you never show up unannounced.” He studied your face, searching for some kind of explanation. “Are you okay?”

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, unable to find your voice for a moment. “Taehyun, I—I need to tell you something,” the words stumbled out, fast and breathless. “Can I come in?”

Taehyun's eyes widened in surprise. “Of course!” he said, quickly stepping aside, gesturing to you to come inside. His gaze softened as he sensed your anxiety. “Do you want anything?” Water? Juice? Cider?”

“Water’s fine,” you replied softly, wrapping your arms around yourself; a failing attempt to calm yourself down. You offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you.”

“Take a seat. I’ll be right back.”

As you sank onto the couch, the weight of the moment stayed beside you. The case lost its true meaning long ago—the moment you kissed Beomgyu, you knew it was never the same. And sleeping with him? That only solidified it—there really was no turning back now. You stared at your hands, the tremble was still there, the weight of your own guilt made it hard to breathe.

“Here,” Taehyun said softly, handing you a cold water as he settled beside you, cider in hand.

“So,” he said, his voice getting a little quieter, “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, feeling the heaviness settle in your chest. This was it.

“I slept with him,” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. “Beomgyu.”

“...What?” Taehyun’s voice cracked slightly as hurt flashed across his features. His hand froze mid-air, the cider forgotten as your words left him confused.

You saw the immediate shift in him—the way his posture stiffened, the subtle way he tried to pull back emotionally, but the shock was still there. He placed the cider aside and looked at you. He was mad, but not his usual outward anger. No, this was different. This anger was silent, and that's what made it terrifying.

Taehyun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why?” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Why him?”

The words hung in the air. You knew the answer to it, and you knew that he knew too; but saying it out loud would mark a change in your relationship forever.

Taehyun wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on the floor as if he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore.

“I—” you started, but your voice faltered, breaking under the weight of what you were about to say.

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes finally meeting yours, and in them you saw something that made your heart drop—hurt. A raw, sharp kind of hurt but there was something deeper to it, something you weren’t sure you could fix.

“Say it,” he whispered, almost pleading. “Admit it.”

You opened your mouth again, but no sound came. It wasn’t until your heart caught in your throat, constricting your chest that you whispered, “I love him.”

Taehyun laughed in disbelief, “You love him?”

You nodded. It was eight months of knowing Beomgyu and five months loving him. It might seem rushed to others, but love didn’t conform to the rules—love, love worked in mysterious ways. And with Beomgyu, it wasn’t planned, it just crept up on you like a thief in the night.

“Does he even know how you like your coffee?” Taehyun asked, his voice surprisingly calm. “Black, two sugars with a touch of cream?”

You blinked, taken aback by the shift in conversation. The question felt like an unwilling razor against your skin.

“How about the way you rip off your tags from your clothes?” he continued. “Does he even know how uncomfortable it makes your skin feel?”

Your breath hitched. Taehyun casually listed little things about you—things you barely remembered about yourself.

“Or the way you carry a journal with you, to sketch and write poetry? You always loved connecting with art and nature, always mentioning how grounding it was.”

He sighed. “And what about your real identity?” his voice lowered. “Not the rich girl in Golgotha. The real you. The one beyond the case?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out—the words were tangled in your throat. What could you say to Taehyun that wouldn’t hurt him? The truth? The truth that you never felt this way before? You always believed love should follow a certain process, but now that you were in it, you realized that love just happened. There was no correct time frame when it came to falling in love.

Taehyun’s eyes softened, but the pain was still there. He ruffled his hair in frustration as his eyes searched yours for something—something to stop him from pouring his heart out to you.

“...I’m sorry, Taehyun,” you whispered. “I can’t help who I fell in love with. It just happens.”

Taehyun laughed softly, almost bitterly. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. Instead, he stared at you, all the brokenness scattered across his sleeve. “I know,” he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. “The worst part is I can’t get mad at you… because I know.”

He took a deep breath, “I know because that’s how I feel with you.”

Your heart dropped—blood rushed to your ears in shock. You blinked at him confused, as if he grew a second head. The weight of his words were undeniably heavy—no chance for you to carry.

“What?” you asked, the disbelief evident in your voice. “You love me?”

The frustration was engraved in Taehyun’s features as he stared at you—stared at your soul. “Yes. I do. And I always will.” His words became heavier, more than you could ever bear. “But I never had the guts to say anything. Not when I saw the way Dong-wook left you.”

His voice became softer as he continued, “You needed a friend, not a lover. I couldn’t let my selfish desire get in the way of you—your recovery. I couldn’t do that to you.”

“...I’m sorry, Taehyun.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening as he held back his voice. “You aren’t,” he murmured coldly. “You can’t be. It’s not like you knew.”

He sighed, his frustration transforming into exhaustion. “And you know what's even worse? I have the authority to pull you off the case. To tell Boss you’re emotionally compromised, but I won’t.” His voice faltered again, “Because you’re lucky. I am lucky that I love you.”

He continued, his tone softening despite the raging storm inside. “As much as I hate it… I can’t take that love away from you.”

“Taehyun…thank you,” you whispered, tears spilling from your eyes, “Thank you.”

“Just prove to me that this love you have isn’t a mistake,” he said coldly, “Prove me wrong.”

Your heart twisted at his brokenness, “But…what happens to us?”

“Nothing,” he said simply. “Despite all of this,” he gestured between the both of you, “I just want you to be happy. And if that happiness is with Beomgyu, then so be it.”

Then, without thinking you hug Taehyun, wrapping your arms around him as you whisper guilt-ridden apologies—not for your feelings, but for the mess that the situation had become.

But what broke you down completely was the sound of a quiet sob escaping his lips, the way his breath hitched, and the tremble in his arms as they tightened around you.

His tears soaked your shirt, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric—a clear testament to the feelings he had been holding back—to the words that could have never been said.

You confessed to finding love that day. And Taehyun? He confessed to losing it.

And yet, despite the pain, life still moved on. It always did. The world kept turning, whether or not you were ready to face it. But sometimes, moving on wasn’t about letting go, it was about surviving. And in that moment, that’s all you could do. Survive.

Weeks passed and everything blurred together. Time became a series of disconnected moments—half-hearted conversations, strained smiles, even barely recognizing yourself. You didn’t know if Taehyun treating you the same made things better or worse—the way his smile hadn’t shifted, staying the very same—even when he saw Beomgyu by your side.

The investigation had another pregnant lull—no progressions, no breakthroughs, nothing. After confirming Kwang-soo’s role, after seeing his eyes in the darkness, it felt as if the secrets of Golgotha were closing in. Whoever or whatever, was watching you didn’t want you uncovering the truth.

But the funny thing with secrets was that they always had a way of revealing themselves, didn’t they?

You were nursing a drink at the bar that evening, waiting for Beomgyu to finish cleaning up before you spent the night at his apartment—another obvious shift in your relationship. The drink burned your throat—the alcohol—your only current semblance of feeling. There was a man across the bar, a pair of unfamiliar eyes staring at you. His gaze was sharp, almost knowing.

You weren’t sure when he came in, but his presence thickened the air, something unspoken, something you don’t think you wanted to know. He leaned against the bar, his posture too relaxed for someone who was a clear higher up. His gaze was like no other you had encountered that night, sharp and calculating.

Before you could turn away, the stranger approached, his presence imposing. He slid onto the stool beside you, his words instilling an unimaginable fear within you. “So, you’re Dong-wook’s girl?”

Your stomach churned, bile and alcohol rising up your throat. “Pardon?” you choked out, your heart skipping a beat. “Dong-wook?”

He nodded slowly, as though confirming something already obvious to him. “Are you not her?”

You shook your head aggressively, the words tumbling out in a panic. “I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person. I’m…Beomgyu’s girl.”

He didn’t seem convinced, his lips curling into a half-smile, something dark, something far too knowing. “Once you’re Dong-wook’s girl, you’re always his. Boss doesn’t forget. He never forgets. Especially with you.”

Your blood ran cold. There was no way the past could be resurfacing, not now, not ever. “Don’t worry though,” he added with a sly smile. “Boss has his plans for you.”

The man walked away without sparing you a second glance, leaving you alone with the sickly taste of his words lingering in the back of your throat. You forced your attention back to your drink, trying to drown out the feeling of being watched—but it didn't leave you.

It felt as though the world around you began to close in. The hair on your neck rose, anxiety bleeding out your veins. You couldn’t shake the feeling—the weight of someone’s eyes on you. You turned around, and there they were. Those eyes. Cold, calculating unblinking. Fixed on you. Watching. Waiting. Studying.

It was impossible to look away—not when you felt the weight of their scrutiny pressing into you, as if they knew everything about you. And that? It scared you.

Before you could make sense of the spiralling thoughts, a familiar warm touch found its way around you—Beomgyu. He placed a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead before gently cupping your cheeks, kissing you sweetly—without missing a beat.

“My beautiful girl. Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice full of concern as his eyes searched yours for an answer, instinctively sensing something was off. You blinked, his presence immediately putting your body and mind at temporary ease.

You nodded, even if it was only half-true. “Yeah,” you murmured, “The vibes are just a bit off tonight.”

Beomgyu’s eyes searched yours once more, before conceding, offering you a gentle smile. “Then let’s get out of here,” he said as he slipped his hand into yours—his touch—a protective shield around you as the lingering eyes faded in the distance.

You didn’t remember the drive to Beomgyu’s apartment, your mind dazed as the cold eyes remained engraved in your mind. The only thing that kept you grounded was Beomgyu’s hand in yours as he drove, opting to let the silence fill the void.

“Sorry if it isn’t up to your standard,” Beomgyu mumbled, embarrassed as he jiggled his keys in the door. He held your hand as he opened the door, turning on a light and guiding you in. He nervously glanced around his small, cozy apartment, “I know isn’t much but…it’s home,” he smiled softly at you.

You inhaled deeply, taking in his apartment—it was everything you lacked in your life—safe, secure, perfect. Every aspect of his apartment felt like him—from the guitars hanging from the wall to the pictures that hung up on his walls, everything had a piece of Beomgyu. It was a stark contrast to the heaviness of the outside world. Here, there were no shadows, no one to judge. Just you and Beomgyu in his little corner of the world.

Beomgyu gauged your reaction, his voice uncertain, “I know you’re used to fancier places than this. If you want to—”

“Beomgyu,” you interrupted softly, squeezing his hand gently in reassurance. “It’s perfect.”

He led you to his room and you felt even more overwhelmed—the feeling of home even more present. It dawned on you then that you never truly felt at home where you lived. It was a house, yes, but not a home. Beomgyu’s however? It was the ultimate definition of one. Despite his struggles, Beomgyu managed to make this place his—his home—his sanctuary.

Beomgyu’s presence soothed some of the noise in your head, but you couldn’t silence it completely. You were tangled in a web called your thoughts, the anxiety of the investigation, the mastermind behind it all, the weight of Taehyun’s confession and Dong-wook. It felt as though everything was spiralling, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold everything inside.

“Here,” Beomgyu said softly, handing you a change of clothes, the soft fabric comforting against your skin. “Change into something comfortable,” he suggested.

You nodded silently, thankful to have that moment—a space to breathe. You slipped into the bathroom, slipping into Beomgyu’s clothes—his oversized shirt swallowing you whole—making you feel small, vulnerable. And the moment you stepped back into the bedroom, everything crashed in. The tears, the stress, everything you had been holding in broke free, hot and uncontrollable.

Beomgyu’s arms immediately wrapped around you, his warm touch comforting. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, “Just let it all out.” Your tears seemed to fall harder with his words; your breath shaky against Beomgyu’s chest as he held you a little tighter.

He pressed a soft reassuring kiss on your temple as he pulled you into bed, holding you close as your tears slowly began to subside. “I know there’s so much more to you than you let on,” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “I’m not asking you to tell me anything. I trust you. No matter what, I will always be here.”

Guilt gnawed at your bones—how much more were you going to be able to protect him? You knew your time was closing in, but this time, you couldn’t afford to make any mistakes.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady. “I love you. I don’t care what secrets you’re holding. None of that can change how I feel about you.”

He paused, his hand cupping your face tenderly as his thumb brushed over the curve of your jaw, grounding you. “Even if my body ceases to exist,” he confessed softly, "my soul will still be in love with you.”

You knew love came in various ways—was expressed differently, but Beomgyu’s love was like no other. There was an indescribable fervour about it—one that felt like the sun’s warmth on a summer’s day, even during the darkest of days, his warmth wouldn’t be swayed.

You didn’t have the strength to speak; the weight of the last 8 months finally took a powerful hold on you. But in that moment—that night—you understood what his love was. His love wasn’t earned; it was given—wholeheartedly without question. In the end you realized you were wrong. Beomgyu wasn’t like the Garden of Eden, he was Boaz—like him, he loved you with patience and generosity, despite the secrets you kept hidden, he loved you without question. And you? You just had to wait and see if you were really like Judas after all.

Beomgyu listened to your breathing as it steadied, soft and rhythmic as you fell asleep. A feeling of tranquillity washed over him as he watched your features relax—the steady rise and fall of your chest, your tear-stained face softening in peace.

Beomgyu had noticed it all. He wasn’t blind to the truth. Your existence in Golgotha had always been strange—you lacked the selfishness that permeated that world. But the real giveaway? Your curiosity. No one from that world of the rich would spare a glance at the fighters; they were all just part of a performance. But you? You wanted to know too much—and that curiosity, Beomgyu knew, could be your downfall.

Still, he chose to ignore it—accepting the way you loved him, without hesitation, even if it was temporary.

He remembered that day, it wasn’t long after you had your first kiss—probably a few days later. You were in the parking lot with Taehyun—his voice sharp and unforgiving. Beomgyu had stood in the shadows, behind a wall, unable to tear his eyes or ears away. He knew it was wrong; he shouldn't have listened. But there was so much more to you than you were willing to share that Beomgyu just wanted to know.

And maybe, it was better not knowing.

Because when Dong-wook’s name slipped past Taehyun’s lips, Beomgyu’s blood ran cold.

Dong-wook, the creator of their hell—the owner of Golgotha. He was a man shrouded in mystery; one they only ever spoke of in whispers. Beomgyu was told he disappeared after his last empire crumbled, only to resurface with something stronger—safer—it became Golgotha.

The real story behind its origin, Beomgyu never knew. What he did know was that the place transformed from an empire of trafficking to a sanctorum for the elite—a place filled with bloodshed and violence—a place—of performance. There was so much more to the eye than it seemed. On the surface, a place for the rich to lounge, but below?

The darkness hadn’t disappeared—it transformed. Changing shape. Some fighters were bought, others stolen, some participated willingly and finally there were those like him, exploited, caught in schemes run by men like Kwang-soo, loyal stray dogs to a master that should’ve never returned.

Beomgyu remembered the way you stiffened against him months ago, dismissing your own behaviour, blaming it on tiredness. But when you stared at the corner with a fear that couldn’t be displaced, he knew there was more to it. And tonight was the true confirmation of your connection to Dong-wook. He had watched you at the bar, he saw the way the higher up approached you—a man not meant to be there. He saw the way you stiffened when he called you Dong-wook’s girl, correcting him, saying you were his—Beomgyu’s.

But the man knew. And from the way you faltered…he knew you did too.

Even as you slept in his arms, Beomgyu’s thoughts kept spinning. He knew that somewhere between the folds of this story, there was a part you didn’t share—the part with Dong-wook. Beomgyu didn’t know the truth, not completely, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to. Not now, not ever.

“I love you,” he whispered, as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Whatever it is…I still do.”

And as he held you a little tighter that night, Beomgyu let himself believe that the fragile, borrowed peace was enough.

Act 4 || The Apostate’s Kiss

They say patience is a virtue—ruled by the angels, the embodiment of divine order. But you? You were no angel. And your patience? It had worn thin.

Ten months.

It had been 310 long, excruciating days spent inside that sanctified hellhole. And quite frankly, you were over it.

Beomgyu was the only thing that kept you grounded—your anchor among the chaos. Without him, you would’ve lost yourself a long time ago.

Tonight, Golgotha felt different. There was a cold, eerie stillness in the air—unnatural for a place that fed on the patron’s energy. It was as if the walls were holding their breath, watching and waiting. You stood at the corner of the bar with Taehyun, savouring the comfort of his presence despite everything that took place between you.

“Madame,” a voice interrupted, drawing your attention. A man came up to you—the same one from before, his smile too wide, too knowing—a smile that created an anxious hole in your stomach. “Boss wants to meet you. I am meant to be your escort.”

You and Taehyun exchanged a glance—yours was fear; his curiosity. “Go on,” he said quietly. “Just…be safe. I’ll let Beomgyu know where you went.”

You gave him a small nod before turning to the man who waited, his arms folded in front of him as he eyed you with intent. Without a word, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a blindfold.

Your stomach dropped. This can’t be happening. You looked at him in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious,” you said.

“It’s protocol,” he shrugged. “Boss doesn’t want guests remembering the way.”

As the fabric slipped over your eyes, the darkness that encapsulated you felt uncomfortable. The warmth of Taehyun’s reassuring hand on your shoulder was replaced by the cold, iron grip of the escort, guiding you forward.

Two lefts. A right. Then a decent twenty steps down a hallway large enough to cause your heels to echo against the floor. You committed each turn, each footstep, to memory.

Finally, you’re pushed into a room on the left. You stumble inside and there’s silence. You hear footsteps approaching you slowly and your heart quickens—a part of you wishes it isn’t who you think it is, but a part of you knows you aren’t wrong.

The man’s cold hands caressed your arms, and it made your skin crawl, made you feel dirty. “Angel,” he said lowly as he removed the blindfold from your eyes. “It’s wonderful to see you again.” As your eyes adjusted to the bright light in the room you felt sick. Dong-wook. You expected this. But even then, it still felt surreal seeing him before you.

He looked the very same as he did all those years ago.

“Dong-wook,” you said coldly. “It’s really you.”

Your fists clenched the moment he stepped closer. His calloused fingers cupping your chin with a firm, possessive grip.

“Still so sharp,” he whispered. “So full of life.”

You recoiled, pulling away. “Don’t touch me.”

He chuckled, soft and maddening. “It’s funny. You would’ve begged for the opposite back then.” Then after a beat, “Glad to know the world hasn’t broken you yet. That’s the fire that I remember.”

“You’re not meant to be here,” you seethed, “how is this possible?”

He began to circle around you slowly, like a wolf with its prey. “Some parts of you are still so innocent,” he mused. “The world is run by money. It was easy to crawl back in.” His tone shifted. “As for Golgotha,” he said, casually brushing dust from his sleeve, “I started that seven years ago. Just another exploitation ring. Another profit.”

Then he faced you, the glint in his eye made your stomach twist.

“But then I met you.”

You froze.

“You were young, gorgeous and with a dream,” he said, his voice drenched in false compassion. “You were supposed to be nothing to me. Just another girl. Just another name to erase. To be stripped and sold.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You knew that was the truth, but it didn’t hurt any less coming from his mouth.

“And yet, you tempted me. Like the devil,” he whispered, “You were the devil, and I loved every minute of it.”

“I rebuilt Golgotha for you,” he said. “The symbolism, the velvet, the power, it wasn’t for the clients. It was for us. Your devil inspired me. This was meant to be our empire.”

“But then,” he said, his eyes cold, “you betrayed me.”

He sat in his chair, drumming his fingers on the armrest. There was a heavy silence between you until he chuckled lowly, almost amused with the memory that crossed his mind.

“She reminded me of you, you know. The last girl.”

You were going to throw up.

“She had your eyes. Same fire, same bite.” He shrugged, “Shame she fell so easily though. Tell me, did it haunt you? Her blood on your hands?”

Your knees felt weak, but you forced yourself to stand tall.

“Then, I brought you back myself.”

“The intel—” you choked out.

“ —was bait,” he finished for you, smug. “I’ve been watching you. And your boss? Easy to fool. It was easy to get you here.”

He tilted his head, looking at you with multiple layers of disgust. “But what I didn’t expect was him,” his words, soaked in venom. “Beomgyu.” You couldn’t respond—you couldn’t bring yourself to. The only thing running through your mind was he had been watching you.

“Disgusting,” he spat. “What can that low life give you? Money? Power?”

He stood, even more angry. “ I can give you an empire. All built in your name. What can he give you that I can't?!” he shouted.

“Love,” you said softly. “He gave me love, Dong-wook. All you fed me were obsessions and false beliefs.”

“I would’ve given you the world.”

“I didn’t want the world,” you said, voice steady. “I wanted to be seen. But you never saw me.”

His features hardened, “Let’s see how your little toy feels when his face hits the floor.”

Your expression faltered—and he smirked.

“He’ll meet the same fate as the girl,” he said coldly, holding up a folded paper between his fingers. “This is the fight list,” he said simply. “And I choose his next opponent. One of mine. I’ll make sure he won’t come out of that ring alive.”

“Don’t,” you warned, but your voice broke.

Dong-wook rose from his seat, leaning into your face, his breath sour with power. “A divine sacrifice,” he whispered. “Now wouldn’t that be poetic?”

You tried to step back but he immediately gripped your wrist. “Unless…” his voice laced with faux tenderness, “You come back to me.”

His other hand slowly wrapped around your throat. His cold fingers applied steady pressure. “Don’t make the same mistake twice, sweetheart.” His hand squeezed tighter, “Come back to me,” he whispered. “Be my queen.”

The world was spinning by the time you were shoved back into the main hallway, the blindfold once again covered your eyes, but now it was tighter—suffocating. You didn’t remember the turns again; you didn’t have the strength to. Even though your legs moved, your mind remained stuck there, trapped beneath Dong-wook’s gaze.

As the blindfold came off you saw Taehyun waiting for you, his eyes filled with worry.

“Hey,” he caught you before you could stumble. “Are you okay? What did their boss want with you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You scanned the room, the only person on your mind was—

“Beomgyu,” you called out, your voice panicked and uneven. He was talking with Soobin near the bar but turned at the sound of your voice.

“Love...” he said softly, “Are you okay? What did the big guy want?”

“When’s your next fight?” you asked breathlessly, grabbing onto his arm.

“What?”

“When…” your voice cracked. “When’s your next fight?”

“In three days,” he said confused, his eyes scanned yours with worry. “...Why? Baby, what’s going on?”

Your breath hitched. “Three days…” you mumbled to yourself, the bile rising in your throat. That wasn’t enough time.

You let go of him, turning toward Taehyun, and held his wrist. “I need to talk to you. Now.”

Beomgyu called your name out, but you couldn’t look back. Not yet. Not until you found a way to save him.

The cold burned—your skin was on fire and your lungs felt as if they were filled with water. You crouched on the floor as the walls of the world seemed to close in around you.

“Hey,” Taehyun called out, crouching in front of you. His voice felt as if it was underwater. “Hey. Focus on my voice. Follow my breathing.” You looked up at him, tears in your eyes as you tried to match your breathing with his.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, picking you up. “Now tell me, what’s going on?”

You gave yourself a moment, taking a deep breath and regulated your thoughts.

“He’s going to kill him, Taehyun,” you whispered. “If I don’t stay with him Beomgyu dies.”

“Who?” Taehyun asked, his jaw tightened.

“Dong-wook.”

His name burned on your tongue—as if you were being force fed poison and finally had the courage to spit it out.

Taehyun froze. His eyes widened at your words. “What?” he asked. “How?”

“Money passed,” you said. “He took the time and rebuilt Golgotha. He baited us with the intel. All so that he can get me back.”

You looked at him terrified.

“He wants me to be his queen, Tae. I can’t do it. I don’t know what we can do, I have to save Beomgyu, I—”

Taehyun pulled you into a hug. “Listen to me,” he said, wiping the tears that fell from your eyes.

“Let me handle it. Do one last recording for today and give me all of them. Notes, footage, everything. All of it.”

“What?” you blinked through your tears. “What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it. The less you know, the better.”

“But why?” you asked.

“I lost my love,” he smiled sadly. “I won’t let you lose yours too. I promise.”

Today was D-Day, and quite frankly, you were terrified. You’d spent the last 3 days at Beomgyu’s side, clinging like it might be the last. He noticed, of course—the way your hands lingered just a little longer, how your eyes memorised the curve of his smile each time you kissed him. Whenever he brought up that night, you brushed it off.

“Just a tough matchup,” you’d say, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. And each time, he chose to believe you—whether it was trust or fear, you weren’t sure.

Golgotha was more alive than you’d ever seen it—almost bursting at the seams. The atmosphere was buzzed with energy and the haze of drugs consumed by the patrons. Their laughter silky rich, thick with anticipation for the night ahead. You knew the turnout was probably Dong-wook’s doing, a grand finale of sorts.

And maybe that was the most unsettling part—just the sheer number of powerful faces crowding the room, eyes eager on the altar for Dong-wook’s sacrifice.

“Heard Dong-wook is making an appearance tonight,” Taehyun muttered beside you, loud enough for only you to hear. “He’s really going all out for this.”

The only thing that was on your mind was Beomgyu—his eyes, his nose, his lips—his everything. You wanted to see him; you needed to see him. You didn’t know how this night was going to end, you just hoped Taehyun’s plan worked out after all.

“Hey sweetheart,” a voice called out to you.

Yeonjun.

You turned your expression neutral. “Yeonjun,” you said politely, “What can I do for you?”

“Still in love with Beomgyu?” he asked, smirking. “I’ll give you one last chance.”

Your eyes narrowed, “What are you going on about?”

He let out a soft laugh, “Back when I asked you to sponsor me. That was your chance.” Then he leaned in just enough for his breath to brush your ear. “Shame you chose the wrong side, and I always liked you too.”

He stepped back, smiling coldly. “But you chose the stray dog. And now I’m tasked with putting him down.”

You frowned, “You work under Dong-wook?”

Yeonjun’s eyes twinkled with amusement at your realization, “Last chance, sweetheart. Make things right.”

Your blood ran cold, “Fuck off Yeonjun.”

His smile dropped slightly, his eyes softened with something that didn’t quite look like pity, “See you at the altar, angel.”

You pushed through the crowd, trying your best to ignore Yeonjun’s words—but with each step the weight of them lingered. You really hoped that tonight didn’t end in bloodshed.

Beomgyu stood near the stage, the light casting a soft ethereal glow on him. His hair was slightly damp from his warm-up, his eyes lighting up the moment they found yours. And his smile—soft and warm—but this time, it broke you.

“Love,” he said, kissing you tenderly. “I’m so glad to see you.”

You couldn’t form the words to respond—not when he looked at you like that, not when you thought this would be your last. Your fingers brushed against the apples of his cheeks, savouring the warmth of his skin before pulling him into another kiss.

“Hey,” he whispered. “What’s gotten into you? You aren’t one to display affection like that.”

“Beomgyu,” you hesitated, “I need to tell you something.”

“Let’s talk later, okay?” he smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you too.”

“But Beomgyu, Yeonjun, he—”

“You tried to scare me these last few days!” he laughed, shaking his head. “I fought him before, babe. It’ll be fine.”

You shook your head desperately, but he didn’t pay you any mind.

“After this victory,” he said, "I'm treating you to dinner. Just you and me.”

He rested his forehead against yours, his voice soft, as he gazed into your eyes lovingly. “I love you,” he whispered as he kissed you again.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a gift-wrapped promise. It felt like an agonizing goodbye.

The gong rang once causing the atmosphere of Golgotha to shift—becoming colder as the host stepped forward. The crowd fell into hushed reverence, anxiously waiting for the commencement of the night’s event.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.” the host began, his voice smooth. “Tonight, we are blessed with the presence of The Anointed. He will deliver the greeting.”

As the host stepped aside, Dong-wook emerged, cloaked in dark crimson and black, his garments resembling a cassock warped by sin. His presence was domineering, magnetic—like a false god entering a temple.

“Dominus vobiscum,” he intoned, his voice deep and chilling.

The Lord be with you. What an odd way to begin a greeting, you thought.

The crowd answered as one, “Et cum spiritu tuo,” the response echoed through the room.

And with your spirit. Your skin crawled at the twisted devotion. The theatrics of it all were too much.

“We all have gathered here for the Final Act,” he declared, his eyes sweeping the room before settling on you, staring at your soul. “Their last performance reached into your depths—so a final act has been summoned.”

He smirked at you from the stage, the knowing glint in his eyes. “Let us bear witness to a divine sacrifice.”

He turned his gaze to Beomgyu and Yeonjun before continuing, “Upon this altar, one of these men shall rise as the Redeemer—”

A deliberate pause.

“ —and the other shall fall as the Sacrificial Lamb.

He outstretched his arms to the crowd like a preacher. “A lovely performance is among us.”

The gong rang a second time—feeling its vibration deep in your bones as the host and Dong-wook stepped back, marking the beginning of the final act.

Beomgyu stood across from Yeonjun, body taut with confidence and an unparalleled focus. He moved with precision and accuracy, an animalistic glint in his eyes as the patrons watched in anticipation. The tension was thick—it left you holding your breath, each movement in the ring made your heart race.

You felt horrible as you watched helplessly, anxiety taking over. Taehyun placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and for once it did nothing to quell your worries. Yeonjun’s ribs cracked under the impact of Beomgyu’s fist—a breathless, painful gasp escaped him as he staggered back, steadying himself for an attack.

The punch seemed to awaken something in Yeonjun as his eyes flashed with something darker—terrifying. Beomgyu’s gaze met yours for the briefest of moments, his lips moved with a familiar movement. “I love you,” he mouthed before he launched himself at Yeonjun again. Yeonjun’s speed increased, terrifyingly so as he dodged Beomgyu’s attacks—a speed that caught Beomgyu off guard. There was no stopping them, and that made you feel worse—knowing Beomgyu’s fate was sealed and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Beomgyu,” you whispered his name like a hushed prayer, hoping to a God that was already dead. His chest rose and fell with a rhythm, his cheek slightly bruised from a punch Yeonjun landed on him as he tried to gain his balance. Yeonjun knew no remorse—striking again, but this time he reached into his pocket, a faint glint of steel caught your eye. A flash of silver. A knife.

You couldn't shout, couldn't scream, couldn't warn your love of the consequences he was about to reap. And it was as if time stood still—only the sickening sound of the blade piercing Beomgyu’s side was heard. Beomgyu staggered back, his hands instinctively clutching his side as blood seeped through his clothes, staining the white fabric of his shirt. He faltered as his faced etched in pain and surprise.

The patrons gasped in surprise, watching in awe as his blood slowly dripped to the floor. And Yeonjun had a crazed look in his eyes—a deranged smile as he got closer to Beomgyu.

“No,” you whispered, pushing forward, only to be stopped by Taehyun’s firm grip on your arm.

“Not yet,” Taehyun warned. His eyes were locked on Beomgyu, “It’s not over.” His voice was calm, too calm, as if he knew something you didn’t.

You heard him murmur something under his breath—barely audible to you, but your mind was too cloudy to make out the words.

Just as Yeonjun prepared to strike again, a deafening crash resounded—the door of Golgotha slammed open and the SMPA stormed in. The patrons gasped, some screamed, and others tried to escape in fear, but it was no use, the SMPA had already blocked all possible exits.

“This is the SMPA! Everyone in this room is under arrest. You are all under suspicion of partaking in illegal activity. Please comply with the authorities.”

You didn’t pay attention to the officer’s words after that—forcing yourself out of Taehyun’s grip and rushing to Beomgyu’s side, kneeling beside him, one hand trembling as you cupped his face and the other desperately placing pressure on the wound.

“Beomgyu,” you whispered as tears streamed down your face, “please, stay with me.”

He chuckled painfully, “No wonder you were worried. It’s as if you had a prenotion of what was about to happen.”

“You shouldn’t talk,” you sobbed. “Just focus on your breathing.”

“I love you,” he breathed in painfully. “So much. More than you’ll ever know.”

The ground beneath you trembled as more SMPA officers descended making their way to the stage. One of them moved toward Yeonjun and cuffed him in one fluid motion, another advancing on Beomgyu. You tried to hold onto him helplessly as they pulled you away.

“Please,” you begged, desperation thick in your voice. “Please help him…”

But the officers didn’t hear you. All that remained was the weight of the cuffs, their cold steel biting into your wrists—a suffocating sense of agony was all that persisted.

This was Golgotha. A place where salvation was never meant to exist.

The office was cold, at least that’s what Taehyun’s mind told him—perhaps it was playing tricks on him. Laid across the table was a recorder—your recorder, your footage—everything. All the work you did for the past 310 days, everything that led him there.

Taehyun subconsciously held your recorder in his hand, brushing his finger along the edges, hoping it would bring you closer to him. The weight of the situation had finally dawned on him with your past rearing its ugly head, Taehyun knew that everything he was doing right now was for you.

Every cell in his body screamed—screamed that this was the only way for you to truly put that part of you behind closed doors. And even though you’d never love him in the end, Taehyun didn’t mind because your presence taught him how to love, and for now, that was enough.

The door behind him creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts—Kai, a long-time friend and seasoned tactical officer of the SMPA entered. Kai’s reputation for leading high-risk operations preceded him. A selfish thought crossed Taehyun’s mind; had Kai been involved in Dong-wook’s takedown years ago maybe things would’ve been different, maybe you wouldn’t have met Beomgyu and maybe you would've—

No. Taehyun shook the thought away. There were just some things that were just not meant to be.

Kai smiled at Taehyun for a moment before his face turned serious as a wooden judge. “Taehyun, you ready?” he asked.

Taehyun glanced up, locking eyes with him before nodding with assurance. “Let’s do this.”

It felt like an eternity, sifting through evidence, listening to your voice echo off the walls of the room before it finally dawned on them. There was no safe way out of this.

“We can’t use any of the evidence,” Kai sighed frustratedly, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but you didn’t have authorization to gather it. It’s inadmissible in court.”

Taehyun rubbed his temples, feeling a headache creeping in.

“Sorry man,” Kai continued. “Even if I wanted to, Dong-wook’s attorney would almost exercise the exclusionary rule. You know how this works. I don't want us or the team to face legal consequences for using evidence that was technically illegally obtained.”

Taehyun’s shoulders sagged as he huffed in irritation. The evidence you worked so hard for—now rendered useless in a matter of seconds.

“Then what the hell can we do?” Taehyun asked with a bite in his voice.

Kai looked him in the eye for a moment. “I know this isn't ideal, but Beomgyu has to get attacked before we can invade.”

Taehyun's heart dropped. “Is there really no other way?”

Kai shook his head, “I know it’s brutal but without legal evidence, this is the only option. But we can give you a discreet earpiece. The moment Beomgyu is stabbed, you give us the go-ahead. You’re our eyes. You’ll signal us once the moment comes.”

Taehyun didn’t speak for a moment—his mind wandered to you, knowing the way you’ll protest at the idea, begging them to find an alternative way.

Kai nodded then said your name softly. “What about her, why isn’t she here to hear the plan? She was a big part of this too.”

“She doesn’t need to know,” Taehyun said quickly—too quickly. “We thought it was best for her to not be involved. To make the entire thing more believable, at least.”

Kai's eyes narrowed at Taehyun, “You weren’t even sure what was going to be done, Taehyun.” Kai continued after a beat. “She’s not emotionally compromised, right? She isn’t involved with Beomgyu or worse, Yeonjun, right?”

Taehyun dismissed it quickly, though his voice lacked the usual confidence. “No, we’re good. We’re just being extra careful. The last incident with Dong-wook is still fresh in her mind—especially with his involvement in this as well.”

Kai hesitated, eyeing Taehyun closely. Then after a long beat, he nodded slowly, “If you say so. But Taehyun, listen to me, if things go south, you need to be sure she’s safe.”

“Always.”

Kai stared at him for a moment longer before leaving the room and returning moments later with the earpiece. It felt heavy— the weight of responsibility in Taehyun’s hand.

“We have one chance at this,” Kai said seriously. “Let’s not mess this up.”

The world felt unreal.

Looking back at the life you lead, you never thought you'd be here in this moment—handcuffs biting into your wrist, adrenaline surging with nothing but pure agony. As the officer began dragging you away, Taehyun stepped forward, his voice too calm for the moment at hand.

“Officer, she’s with me.”

The officer asked, surprised. “Oh, you’re the partner they mentioned?” He unlocked your cuffs without hesitation. “Sorry about that! Your acting was good, you seemed genuinely distraught. You rubbed your wrists, but relief never came. Acting? You thought, confusion clouding your mind.

“Uh…thanks?” your voice shaky as you struggled to stay focused.

Then the officer who detained Beomgyu approached.

The sight of him stole a breath from your lungs—pale, bleeding—his breath ragged as he barely held himself upright.

“Do you know this man, ma’am?” the officer asked, his gaze locking onto you.

You didn’t know what to do. Admit to knowing and possibly be charged with failure to report a crime or deny the allegation and pretend you didn't know him at all? All the possibilities ran through your head and unfortunately, fear won.

“I…I don’t,” you hesitated, a lump forming in your throat.

The officer’s gaze shifted between you and Beomgyu, a flicker of suspicion crossing his face. “You don’t know him?” he asked again, his voice sharp, as if he was waiting for your admittance.

“No,” you said, blinking back tears. “I don’t.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” he challenged.

“Yes,” you said, sharper this time, glaring at him. “I was just part of the investigating team with Taehyun. I have nothing to do with him. You’re doing nothing but delaying the help he needs. He’s bleeding. Hurry up.”

The officer seemed taken aback by your forceful tone, but after a brief pause, he nodded. “Very well.”

The moment the thirst denial slipped from your lips, your ears rang—the ringing—sharp and unforgiving. The sound was deafening, ruthless, a relentless force you couldn't escape. Beomgyu’s eyes were the only thing carved into your mind—dark and wounded—your denial cutting deeper than the blood spilling from his wound.

All this time, you believed you were suppressing the Judas within you—avoiding betrayal for thirty measly pieces of silver. But you were never him. No, you were Peter—denying him to protect yourself—denying your love when he needed you most.

And now, in the wake of your lie, you weren't sure if that made you a coward or a traitor.

Dong-wook’s voice shattered the silence.

“All that for a fucking stray dog?” he snarled, his body thrashing against the officers that held him back. His voice was venom itself and his eyes burned into you, full of scorn—hatred.

He let out a laugh, bitter and full of disbelief. “I can’t believe you did this shit again. Really?” You didn’t respond—you couldn’t.

“I hope your fucking dog bleeds to death,” he spat. “I should’ve killed you. I hope you fucking bleed out too. It’s what you deserve.”

Everything felt as if it was crashing down on you—his words chipping away at the last bits of sanity you had left. The guilt you felt didn’t suffocate you; it consumed you, his words echoing louder the further he was dragged away.

Bleed. Bleed out. Just like you deserve.

“Hey,” Taehyun’s voice broke through the haze. His expression softened, but the concern in his eyes lingered, “You okay?”

You looked at him, tears welling in your eyes. “Okay?” your voice cracked, hoarse and raw. “Beomgyu was stabbed, Taehyun. Of course, I’m not okay.”

Slowly, the crowd in Golgotha dissipated but the tension still hung heavy in the air. You should be happy with the way things turned out to be, but as you remember the way his breath slipped through your fingertips all that remained was the hollow echo of the man you loved most. You followed Taehyun without thinking—legs heavy and mind numb—every step felt like you were being dragged further into the abyss of unforgiveness.

“Hey, Taehyun!” a voice called out. Without a word, Taehyun took off a sleek, discreet earpiece and handed it to the man.

“Here,” Taehyun said smoothly, “Thanks for all the help, Kai. I really appreciate it.”

Kai accepted the earpiece with a slight nod. “It’s not a problem,” he replied, his tone light. “I’m just glad the entire operation went smoothly.”

He turned his gaze to you, his eyes softening with a quiet understanding. “Good job out there,” Kai said, his voice warm. “And thank you for all the evidence you gathered. We can’t use it legally, but our team can get a warrant to bring in proper evidence. You’ve done enough. Get some rest.”

You nodded, but the words felt distant—hollow. No part of you believed you were deserving of any praise. Not when you failed and let go of the man who needed you most. “Will he be okay?” you managed to ask.

Kai looked at you, his expression heavy with pity. “He’ll be okay,” his voice steady. “ I’ll make sure of it.”

The cold air seemed to be the only thing that gave you some semblance of feeling that evening as you left Golgotha. Standing in the car park one last time felt surreal—surreal knowing that this was the end of everything.

“I'm sorry,” Taehyun whispered. “There was no other way to save him.”

“You could’ve still told me, Taehyun,” you whispered. “I may be emotionally involved but I’m not fucking stupid.”

You wanted to scream—cry—to shake him until he understood the pain that blossomed in your chest. But nothing you would've done would change anything. And that was the shittiest part.

“I think he should've known. At least then he could've minimized the damage.”

“I just wanted to protect you,” Taehyun said softly.

“And I just wanted to protect Beomgyu,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and hurt. “ I guess we both didn’t get what we wanted.”

Taehyun opened his mouth as if to say something, anything to ease the tension between you, but the words never came. You didn’t want his words—not when you were so torn, conflicted.

“God…” you whispered, “I’m such a fucking coward.” The admission stung but you made your choice. Denying knowing Beomgyu, a truth that hit you in the gut.

“Hey…” Taehyun said softly. “You’re human. That fear you felt? It’s valid. This is law enforcement we’re dealing with. You have to protect yourself too.”

You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You saw his face when I said it, Taehyun. I can’t help but hate myself for being the cause of that look. He was so broken.”

Taehyun remained silent for a moment before his lips parted again.

“Then, hate me.”

You blinked, confused. “What?” you whispered, “Why would you want me to hate you?”

“Because despite your relationship with Beomgyu. I still selfishly love you,” he admitted. “And that's all I have left to offer you. Hate me, if it helps you. Get the feelings out. You need to keep yourself together, for you, for Beomgyu. As much as I hate to admit it, that’s the only thing I can give you now.”

No matter how angry you felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate Taehyun—not when he loved you so unconditionally, even without reciprocation. The weight of everything still crushed you, but in that moment something small shifted inside you. You couldn't afford to let yourself get back in this space, not for you, not for Beomgyu. The hollow space that was once your heart was filled with hope—hope for Beomgyu, that he could forgive you despite everything. Any maybe, just maybe there was some hope that you could forgive yourself too.

Act 5 || The Weight of Tomorrow

Beomgyu had lost track of how many weeks had passed, each day bled into the next, forming a never-ending loop. The sterile beige walls of the detention centre were all he saw—blank, lifeless, monotonous— and if that didn’t send him mad, then he would himself. The physical pain after the surgery had long since faded, instead replaced by something far worse—a gnawing emptiness in his chest that refused to go away. That was the real torment, and it was you.

You were the only thing on his mind, were you okay? Were you happy? And the most important one, were you safe?

The nights were the worst part—that’s when your voice got louder, echoing in the back of his mind, sweet and sharp like a blade. It was haunting. Too many times Beomgyu lay awake staring at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster, wondering if you were sleeping soundly or if you were haunted like him.

Despite everything that happened, there was no way Beomgyu could have hated you—sure, he was disappointed with the way things turned out and yes you lied about your identity, but that didn't change the fact that you were the same person he loved. Beomgyu knew he could never stop loving you, regardless of what Soobin told him when he visited—his love for you was a boundless ocean and he just hoped that your love was the same for him.

He was sitting in the visitor’s room now, confused. Soobin wasn't supposed to visit for a few more days and Beomgyu had no one else—well, except you. And you know how that story goes.

“Beomgyu,” Taehyun’s cold voice said as he entered. He didn’t sit, opting instead to stand rigidly by the glass separator, barely sparing him a glance.

Beomgyu’s brows furrowed, “Taehyun? What are you doing here?”

Taehyun looked around the small room in disgust, almost as if it had offended him to be there. He shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. “This place doesn’t suit you,” he muttered, avoiding Beomgyu’s gaze. “But I guess Golgotha didn’t either.”

Beomgyu blinked. Unsure if his words were laced with sympathy… or just pity.

Taehyun cleared his throat. “We got you a lawyer. A good one. They got your case pushed forward. The hearing’s next week, so if you get lucky you might get out soon.”

Beomgyu’s heart raced. The news was great, but something still gnawed at him, something far more urgent—you. Where were you? Why weren’t you here? Were you afraid? Or worse, did you no longer love him? The uncertainty clawed at his insides.

“I— I mean, that's great. Thank you, Taehyun,” Beomgyu said, his voice shaky. But a more important question burned at his lips. “But you don’t exactly like me. So why are you doing this… and what about—”

“This isn’t out of my own goodwill,” he interrupted coldly, folding his arms across his chest. His eyes softened subtly before he said your name only in a way love can. “She’s the one who made me come tell you about the lawyer. That, and well, she doesn’t want to see you.”

Beomgyu’s breath caught in his throat. “...What?”

Taehyun’s gaze softened briefly before the walls were put up once more. “It’s not because she hates you. She just…thinks you hate her after everything. Thinks you’re better off without her.”

“No,” Beomgyu whispered, his hand hitting the glass separator. She thinks I hate her?”

His voice cracked. “I don’t. God, even if I tried, I couldn’t. She's the air I breathe. Please, Taehyun. I need to see her. I can’t live without her,” he begged, desperate.

Taehyun’s expression flickered for a moment, as if he wanted to say something but he closed his mouth without muttering another word. Slowly making his way toward the door, his pace slow and deliberate.

“Please,” Beomgyu said softer, his voice barely a whisper as he tried to grip the glass. “Tell her I still love her. I don't care about what happened. I just need her here.”

Taehyun’s gaze flickered to him for a split second, his eyes unreadable, “...I’ll see what I can do. But I can’t make any promises.”

“Thank you,” Beomgyu said, his voice was low but sincere.

Taehyun hesitated just before leaving, his back still turned. “I’m not doing this for you,” Taehyun said flatly, his voice colder than before. “I’m doing this because I know she can’t live without you.”

Beomgyu’s chest tightened, the weight of Taehyun’s words sinking deep. As Taehyun left, Beomgyu sank into the chair, the emptiness in his chest was a little heavier now. He closed his eyes, his breath shallow as he prayed—prayed to a God that he didn’t believe in that you would come back. Even if it would be the last time, he prayed for you to come back.

The drive to the detention center felt like a blur—the anxiety gnawed at your insides, eating you alive as your hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white from the tension. It had been over a month since you last saw Beomgyu, and his face from that day seemed to be the only thing that replayed.

You hated the way the nightmare played out the same every single time. The two of you were in his bed, sharing a moment before the world collapsed and you were transported back to Golgotha. The way his face warped with hurt and pain as the denial rushed past your lips was forever engraved in your mind as if it were a branding.

Then you fall. And it seems endless, the deep kind—the one that makes your legs feel like jelly. That is until you land in a pool of blood—his and hers—mixed. The last thing that always haunts you is Dong-wook’s voice, cold and merciless, so full of hate.

Bleed. It's what you deserve.

Then you wake up—sobbing, drenched in sweat, praying to a God that was already dead to end the torment, to end the pain.

You barely remembered the check-in process, only recalling the way your hands trembled as you signed the visitor’s log and handed over your ID—ignoring the way officers looked at you with either pity or disgust almost as if you were a criminal yourself.

Each second you waited felt like an eternity, the ticking of the clock slowly being your painful demise. So many questions ran through your mind; Did he hate you? Was he okay? Would he even still love you, the real you? Your fingers tightened around your wrist as you fought the urge to run—to act as if you weren't there in the first place.

“Visitor for Choi Beomgyu, you’re up.”

Your heart dropped as you followed the officer—feeling more vulnerable with each step you took. The closer you were, the tighter your chest became. You nearly turned around twice but your feet were adamant, dragging you forward as if it knew something your brain didn’t.

The grip of your fingers hurt. Beomgyu was finally going to see the real you. There was nothing to hide behind now. Not here, not anywhere. This was no longer Golgotha.

“You have 30 minutes,” the officer said coldly. “Make the most of it.”

You swallowed hard, nodding without a word, your heart stopping as your eyes met his. Behind the thick glass partition, he was still him—still your Beomgyu. He was thinner than you remembered, his features more drawn but his eyes—those warm eyes of his remained the same, so full of love, everything you could have dreamt of.

“Beomgyu…” you whispered, your throat tightening at the mere sound of his name.

His eyes glistened slightly as he watched you, “Baby…” he said softly. “You came.” He leaned forward, his hand resting on the glass as he tried to get close to you.

The nickname simultaneously wounded and soothed your heart, all at the same time.

“What happened?” he asked. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tears welled in your eyes before you could even stop them, your heart breaking for the man you still loved so much. “I wanted to,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “ I really did, but I didn’t know what to do. And Taehyun…he was the one who had the entire plan. I’m sorry.”

“I just wished he decided to cooperate with me,” he sighed. “Would’ve made things easier.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “I’m sorry I denied knowing you. I was scared and I didn’t know what to do.”

Beomgyu's eyes softened, “It’s okay. It hurt at first, but I get why you did it. You were scared and you’re human. It’s your default that you protect yourself.”

“Still,” you cried softly, “I still lied to you, Beomgyu. I betrayed you.”

“Love isn’t always perfect,” he said quietly. “It’s about being real and despite everything you were always real with me. I don’t care about the mask you wore. I care about who you are underneath it all.”

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to break down completely. “I never meant to hurt you. I truly just wanted to keep you safe.”

“And you did,” Beomgyu reassured. “This is just a tiny detour and that's okay. I just need you to know that I still love you, all of you.”

The anxiety, the guilt, the fear; still lingered, but something began to take root inside you—a tiny, fragile seed of hope. Seeing the way Beomgyu remained unchanged, loving you the very same made all the difference.

Your eyes flicked at the timer. Ten minutes.

“We don’t have much time left,” Beomgyu said softly before he smiled a bit wider. “Hi, my name’s Beomgyu, I was an underground boxer and I’m desperately in love with you.”

You laughed softly, wiping away your tears, the sound a mix of relief and disbelief. You said your name softly. “I’m an investigative journalist and I’m desperately in love with you too.”

And for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

The detention center had become your new normal. Every week, you went through the same process, signing in, waiting, and then walking down the cold corridor to the visiting room. Each time you saw Beomgyu, you slowly got to know each other again—not some persona, just raw, genuine persons in love with one another.

Some days were quiet, filled with tear-stained faces and heartfelt apologies. Others, laughter, to the point where the officer complained about it being a disturbance. You talked about your dreams, your bad habits—you without various masks on, the you behind closed doors.

Sometimes Soobin accompanied you after Beomgyu mentioned your visits. At first, he wasn’t keen on the idea, your persona in Golgotha was still fresh in his mind. But as the weeks passed, he saw the real you, and eventually a tiny friendship formed. It was still awkward—no surprise there—but you were both trying. And for now, that was enough.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence one afternoon, your voice broke the stillness, sounding more serious than usual. “You know I can’t act as a witness for you against Kwang-soo right?” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Beomgyu blinked, confusion flickering across his face. “What? Why?”

“Because it can be used against you in court since she’s too emotionally involved with you,” Soobin interjected beside you. “Kwang-soo’s lawyer will destroy any credibility she has in court. Will just make things worse for you.”

You nodded. “He’s right,” you said. “Sorry, I can’t do more, Gyu.”

“It’s no big deal.” Beomgyu’s brows furrowed. “But what about Dong-wook?” his tone serious. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Are you going to testify against him? Considering the intricacies of your past relationship, would it still be considered biased… but in a negative way?”

You winced at the question, your heart raced as you remembered your last interaction with him. “Yeah,” you said dejectedly, rubbing your temples. “I don’t have a choice then though.” You ran your hand through your hair, trying to push the thoughts of him aside. “There was never a court ruling for the last incident with him and someone has to testify on behalf of the girls. None of them want to, they’re too afraid.”

“That’s nice of you though,” Soobin said, gazing at you. “To fight for them even though it makes it disadvantageous for you.”

“It’s the least I can do for them.”

You felt the weight of your decision settling over you as the days passed—nerves gnawing at you as the court date loomed over you like a shadow. It wasn’t the thought of facing Dong-wook again that terrified you—it was the sheer weight of his influence, the way he had always been able to hurt so many people and get away with it.

The trial day arrived quicker than you had imagined, and honestly, most of it felt like a blur. You didn’t say it out loud, but the idea of being in the same room as Dong-wook again made you sick. His voice never stopped echoing in your nightmares, angry and bitter at your final decisions. As much as you hated to admit it, he still owned a small part of you—the part once manipulated by the words, the part that once believed he could be saved.

But now, you only wanted closure. You wanted peace.

You had rehearsed your lines, packed the certified documents Kai gave you to testify—photos, phone records, everything that tied him directly to all his underground operations. You were prepared to refute every claim yet some part of you wasn’t ready for the way Dong-wook’s cold eyes would follow you.

Outside the courthouse was swarmed with the press and fans, eagerly waiting for the verdict. Inside, the air was thick—a suffocating coldness prevailed filled with a mix of individuals; those who loved Dong-wook and others who hated him. You were thankful that amidst the nervousness eating away at you, Taehyun and Soobin had accompanied you, their presence being the silent support you needed.

You barely remembered testifying. The moment you entered the witness stand, your responses were automatic, as though your body had gone into autopilot, recounting every painful detail and presenting all the evidence. No matter how much his lawyer tried to strike you down and refute your claims, it was no use. You didn't back down and the truth was out, and Dong-wook would finally get the treatment he deserved.

“The verdict has been determined,” the judge’s cold voice rang out, slicing through the tense silence. “Lee Dong-wook, you have been found guilty on charges of murder to the second degree, sex trafficking, exploitation, and racketeering. You are hereby sentenced to life in prison on all counts.”

You couldn't remember exactly what happened afterward—only the sensation of Taehyun and Soobin enveloping you in a tight hug, their warmth a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside. But the only thing that clung to your mind were the last words Dong-wook had whispered to you.

“It’s not over,” he had said, his voice icy with hatred. “Don’t underestimate my influence. I hope that stray dog can protect you.”

The court case might have been over, but the battle wasn’t completely won. You had fought for the girls, exposed the truth, and for now, justice was served. Now you had to try your best to leave Dong-wook’s influence on you in the past, to keep that door shut and locked—no matter how many times his words crept up on you. You finally had the time to focus on you.

The courtroom’s heavy silence hung in the air long after Dong-wook was led out, but your thoughts were already shifting. The fight wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. Beomgyu’s trial was next and while his circumstances were far different, you still held onto the hope that somehow justice would be served.

Like Dong-wook’s hearing, there was a vast amount of media coverage for Beomgyu’s. Thanks to your article Golgotha: Life From An Outsider’s Eyes, Beomgyu had the public’s sympathy on his side—the abused fighter rather than the criminal mastermind. He was no longer seen as a ruthless participant, but now a boy who just wanted to make a living. You just hoped that your words would be able to make a difference.

You watched the judge—her expression unreadable as she shifted through the last pages of her ruling. Despite the murmurs and the shuffle of papers filling the space around you—everything felt still, quiet. Beomgyu was beside you, his warmth doing little to ease your comfort. The silence was deafening. His hand tightened around yours and your heart raced.

“The verdict is in.”

This was it—this was either going to be the beginning or the end.

“Choi Beomgyu, while your involvement in the underground operations was undeniable, the court acknowledges the circumstances of your exploitation under Park Kwang-soo. Due to the overwhelming evidence of coercion, the public’s support, and your efforts to minimize illegal involvements given your condition, you are hereby sentenced to one year of probation and community service with counselling.”

Relief crashed into you like a tsunami, drowning out the noise of the courtroom around you. For a moment, everything felt distant—the people, the cameras, the world beyond this room—it all faded away leaving just you and Beomgyu. His eyes were wide and they met yours, his face frozen as if he hadn’t quite processed the news.

He was free.

Free to live the life he deserved, without the looming shadow of the ring, without anyone pulling at his strings. Just free.

Before anyone could speak, Beomgyu turned to you, his face softening into an expression of pure gratitude and love. He didn’t wait—he couldn’t—with a tenderness that made your heart race, he cupped your face gently and with the weight of everything finally lifting off his shoulders, he kissed you, right there in front of everyone.

The world faded back in with the clattering of the judge’s gravel as she moved on to Kwang-soo’s verdict, but you no longer cared. There was no more pain, no more uncertainty.

“Thank you,” he whispered as he pulled back, his voice thick with emotion. “For loving and believing in me.”

It wasn’t just a kiss of celebration—it was a kiss of freedom—a testament to everything you had been through, everything you had fought for. A kiss to seal the end of one chapter and the start of another. Finally, the future was yours to shape—together.

Who knew a year would pass by so fast when you’re in love? Days that were once heavy with guilt and dread had now transformed into something brighter, sturdier—real.

Beomgyu was no longer bound by probation and was free of the chains of Golgotha. He had successfully built a new life for himself—one rooted in hope and purpose. His new boxing ring and gym gained a lot of traction from the youth and became a dedicated space to teach kids the proper ways to defend themselves—to become strong and resilient in a world that tried to tear them down. Beomgyu’s success was undeniable, creating the sanctuary he had always dreamed of.

You followed a similar path, deciding to step away from the world of investigative journalism to pursue a quiet, simpler life—one offering a different kind of thrill for you to experience. Your cafe strived alongside Beomgyu’s gym, and the popularity of your story was still present to this day. The cafe and gym became a cornerstone of the neighbourhood—your personal testament to growth.

Together you moved in—not into a house, but a home—one filled with different aspects of yourselves, creating a safe haven of happiness and bliss, one you enjoyed together. Taehyun and Soobin always spent time with you too—your friendship with Taehyun had been restored and your friendship with Soobin managed to blossom even more.

As the last customers trickled out of the cafe that evening, the scent of fresh coffee still lingered in the air as you cleaned up. You glanced over at Beomgyu who came in moments before, his gaze unwavering as he made slow, deliberate movements towards you. You wiped your hands on your clothes, your heart full with the typical giddiness Bromgyu’s presence had on you.

“I’ve been thinking,” Beomgyu started, his voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

Your eyes shone with mischief. “About what? It’s dangerous when you think.” You teased.

Beomgyu smiled at you gently before his face turned serious. “About us, what we’ve been through. I’ve made my mistakes and you’ve made yours.” He continued, stepping closer to you until there was no space left between you, “But I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I am now, in this moment.”

The tenderness of his words washed over you as nervousness of what may be happening crept up on you.

“I can only see my future with you. Not just today or tomorrow, but forever. So…” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box. You froze and he dropped to one knee, holding your hand as your breath caught in your throat. “My soul had become bound with yours. Will you marry me?”

The box flipped open revealing a simple yet elegant silver band, the diamond catching the light from the cafe. You couldn't believe that this was happening. The man who had fought for his freedom, who had rebuilt himself, the man who loved you despite it all wanted to build a future with you. Your eyes swam with tears—those of disbelief, those of joy, those of relief.

“You don’t have to ask,” you whispered, your voice heavy with emotion. “Of course, Beomgyu. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He grinned, relief flooding his features as he stood up, carefully sliding the ring onto your finger. His hands shook just slightly, this one gesture changing everything for you both. “I can’t wait for this new chapter to start with you,” he whispered, the tremor present in his voice. “This is for us and our new future together.”

You smiled through your tears and he kissed you, thankful that all the pain was worth it. You both knew that this new journey wouldn’t always be easy, but together you would conquer the challenges life would inevitably throw at you.

As you gazed at the new ring on your finger, you were reminded of his promise. The ring wasn’t just a symbol of your love—it was a symbol of everything you had overcome. A promise of what was to come, a future that belonged to you. It represented the start of a new journey, another chapter in your story.

And for the first time, you were no longer Peter, Judas, or even Eve—you were just you. And you were exactly where you wanted to be.

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✦ adeline's ending ✉︎ 𖹭.ᐟ - If you've made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me that you read it. I'd love to know which moments were your favourite(❁´◡`❁)

special taglist⭑.ᐟ - @filmsbyun, @dawngyu

permanent taglist⭑.ᐟ - @izzyy-stuff, @just-nc-tea, @flowerkeu

taglist⭑.ᐟ - @filmnings, @demidelulu, @neobeomjii @ramdomheyl, @melmochii, @mwahvvis, @beomiracles, @i-am-not-dal, @immelissaaa, @orangyuuuu, @fatbixchwithanopinion, @fancypeacepersona

[those in bold couldn't be tagged!]

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miupow · 9 months ago

Text

투모로우바이투게더 一 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐗𝐓 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐌。

★ pairing。txt x fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , pwp ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。dom!txt , unprotected sex , creampie mentions , men whimpering and moaning 🙏 , praise kink , dirty talk , pet names/name calling (bitch is used in bg’s sorry) , breeding kink if you squint | to library。

notes from lia。inspired by a skz post i saw on my dash teehee >_< a little drabble thingie to help me get back into the swing of writing ! hope you enjoy~ <3

수빈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

while soobin is a yapper outside of bed, he’s relatively quiet in it— that being said, that doesn’t mean he isn’t noisy. cute little whines and whimpers spilling out from between his plush bunny lips, staccato moans that grow higher and higher in pitch the closer he gets to his orgasm. but god he’s anything but quiet when his climax overtakes him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moans so deep and broken, a complete 180 from his falsetto hiccups from before >< he pants like a dog as he rides through it, hips stuttering and twitching like he can’t bare the thought of staying still. his big cock spills so much cum everywhere, thick and sticky, makes a complete mess wherever it lands (in your holes, on your face, on your tits, on his own hand and belly, etc..) immediately floods you with praise once he remembers how to speak again, he’s so sweet <3

“o-oh, fuck, bunny, i’m cumming—! t-take it all, that’s it, that’s a good girl…”

연준 𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐉𝐔𝐍

the prettiest porn star moans you’ll ever hear, pouty lips open in a perfect “o” <3 he gets so stupid on pussy he can’t even think straight, babbling complete nonsense cos he can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life !! his moans get so whiny and pathetic the closer he gets to his climax, his whimpers sounding almost like he’s crying as he’s chasing his orgasm <3 lets out one long, loud, shrill pretty whine when he cums, high pitched and needy, trailing off into broken little sobs as his hips keep thrusting like he’s trying to milk himself dry, he just can’t stop!! his face gets so pink when he cums too it’s so cute :( buries his face in ur neck to hide his embarrassment as he comes down from his high hehe huffing like he just ran a marathon

“oh god, baby, i’m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, i c-can’t— w-where do you want it? i-inside?! oh, fuuck…”

범규 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔

throws his head back and lets out a moan so deep and broken it almost counts as a howl, so animalistic as his body shakes with his release. his pretty adam’s apple bobbing up and down his veiny neck, sucking on it will only make him cum harder <3 gets so loud you’re always worried he’ll wake up the neighbors, but if anything that’s what beomgyu wants— he loves letting everyone know how good you make him feel, how hard you make him cum with your pretty body beneath or on top of him ! won’t stop yapping even when he’s in the middle of the throws of his orgasm, stuttering out in his gravely low voice broken, nearly nonsensical dirty talk as he struggles to gain control back over his body <3 mixing up praise and degradation and everything in between, he’s just so cute you can’t help but giggle

“fuck, fuck, fuck! ‘m gonna cum, don’t fucking stop, shit—! fuck yes, take it, take this cum, that’s my girl, that’s my bitch!”

태현 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

loses all composure once his climax starts creeping up on him, suddenly all he can think about is how badly he needs to cum!! he’s always so focused on your pleasure over his own, but once his orgasm is close he becomes nothing more than an animal !! huffing and puffing like he’s in the middle of a serious workout, so poised and focused even when his head is all empty except for pussy teehee <3 he’s always on the quieter side in bed but he gets pretty loud when he cums, crying out all high and whiny as he spills hot thick cum everywhere, preferably in your pussy, he hates letting his seed go to waste ! <3 sucking his dick is the best way to get him to get really noisy , he loses his mind with his cock in a tight wet throat <3 always grits his teeth and bares them like a predator, sharp canines on display with his pretty face all screwed up ..

“i-i— oh, fuck, fuck! i’m gonna cum if you keep doing that!”

휴닝카이 𝐇𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐀𝐈

kai gets so lost in pleasure sometimes, he just can’t help but turn into a wild animal… and it’s even worse the closer he gets to his orgasm, the tightening knot in his belly all he can think about, focus on.. practically starts using you like nothing more than a pocket pussy , big hands grabbing tightly ahold of you and moving you against him however he wants, just lay still and take it!! <3 cums so hard he cries sometimes, pretty broken moans sounding like angel choruses, rendered completely unable to speak the closer and closer he gets! just grunting and moaning, slack jawed and cross eyed, pussy drunk and fucked stupid… his cry of relief gets so loud that sometimes he has to bite down on either a pillow or your flesh, just to keep from waking everyone up !! whiny, high pitched, almost a sob.. he sounds so completely broken when he cums, fat dick spurting so much cum it’s insane.. leaves the whole bed wet and messy with both yours and his release by the time he’s done with you <3

“i’m gonna cum, i’m— im cumming, baby, oh my god, please don’t stop! o-oh fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming—!”

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fairyofshampgyu · 1 month ago

Text

Now Live ! Stream: 9

Genre: ongoing series!! camboy au, college au, smut, crack,

Paring: camboy! Beomgyu x gn reader (afab when smut)

Warnings: emotional distress and regret following a consensual sexual encounter, sub! beomgyu, dom! reader, top! gyu, crying, hand job, dry humping, tit sucking, nipple play, possessiveness, overstimulation, use of butt plug, spanking, dacryphilia, strap sucking, beomgyu wears lip gloss, praise, degrading, use of pet names, dollification, choking, slut shaming,

Synopsis: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he goes to the same uni as you, is even in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

Word count: 8.4k

Playlist ! ♬⋆.˚

You feel sick.

you've been pacing around your dorm relentlessly for 20 minutes now, gnawing at your fingernails, because right now, at this exact moment, beomgyu was streaming. Without you.

And not just without you, but with one of the biggest camgirls in the community: Winter01.

You tried to remain unbothered, unfazed, unaffected, at least, that’s how you acted when, beomgyu, unsure and sheepish, had asked you whether he should go for it. It made sense, she had specifically reached out only to beomgyu and had asked to collab, and that was a great opportunity since she was so well known. If he appeared on her channel, then you’d both gain more popularity and traction on your channel too and make even more money. He should totally go for it. It made perfect, rational sense. It shouldn't feel this serious. it's just a stream. Just a collab.

Except, the thought of beomgyu doing a stream with someone else, being fucked by someone else, someone else making him feel good…it just made this nasty, terrible, inexplainable feeling occur within you. That’s what you do with him. That’s your thing. No one else has ever touched him on stream, not ever, not until now.

You collapse onto your desk chair in frustration, only to shoot up a second later. You stand back up. You open your laptop. You close it. You go back to the tab of the website. You close that too. The endless back and forth, making you go insane.

The notification still glows at the top of your laptop screen obnoxiously, taunting.

@Angel313 is now live with @Winter01 !

You battled with yourself, conflicting thoughts on whether you should click on the stream, see what’s going on. Because, a part of you was dying to know. What was she doing with him? Did he like it? Did the viewers like it? Were there even more views than normal? What if it becomes super trending? Was she better than you at fucking beomgyu? What if beomgyu likes her way more than you? It was genuinely eating away at you from the inside.

But at the same time, you didn’t want to see. It’s best to not know at all. What you can’t see can’t hurt you, ignorance is bliss, you know, all that stuff. Because once you click on the stream, there’s no going back. Did you really want to see all that? You could remain peacefully unaware, let the imagination torment you with glimpses only in your mind, not in high definition, in real time.

But, maybe it’s best to know actually.

Maybe the not knowing is worse. What if she’s touching beomgyu the way he likes? What if he likes it better? At least you’ll know and then you can be prepared if he decides he wants to switch partners and toss you aside because winter was way better.

But can you blame him? Winter is beautiful. And she’s popular for a reason. Even you’re familiar with her, you’ve watched some of her streams before. She’s good at what she does. You like her too. What if it does go viral? What if they have insane chemistry and the chat explodes and people beg for more and they're all like ''holy shit, this is the best collab ever" and they make so much money and everyone likes them both together so much and they collab even more in the future and then he just starts streaming with her altogether instead because she’s so much better? She is a professional camgirl, you were just a viewer, a fan for a faceless pretty camboy named angel313. Do you even know what you’re doing?

You suck in a breath. Alas, the curiosity gets the better of you though, and hesitantly, you click on the stream. It loads slowly and you can hear the imaginary countdown in your head, body buzzing with dread at what you might see.

You get what you went searching for. You’d opened the pandora’s box.

You see it as soon as it loads—Winter’s pretty manicured hand wrapped around beomgyu’s flushed cock, pumping him up and down as he stiffly sat on her pink gamer chair, she’s whispering things you can’t decipher, giggling and she looks so pretty, glossed lips brushing over his reddened ears, you see beomgyu who looks like he’s freaking out over all of this, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, embarrassed, cheeks all pink, shaking slightly, biting his lip. Then you hear it. His voice. He lets out a small quiet, shy whimper and a "P-please...!" That does it.

You switch the stream off instantly, slamming your laptop screen down like it had burned you. You don’t want to see anymore. You wished you hadn’t seen at all, but it’s too late to unsee, the image now fully engrained in your head. You feel even more sick than you did before.

Curiosity really does the kill cat, you guess.

You hate how your chest aches. And it feels far too much like the feeling of heartbreak for your liking. Which is dumb. Why did you care so much anyway? In the past when you didn’t know who Angel was, you would have absolutely loved to watch him get fucked on camera by someone else. He only ever used to do solo streams. Hell, if you knew it was Winter, you probably would have been even more overjoyed and excited to watch your favourite pretty camboy get ruined by another pretty camgirl. You probably would have lost your mind. A small part of you almost misses back when you were just a viewer, when you didn't know Choi Beomgyu, the supposed campus fuckboy was Angel313. When you used to just watch him unknowingly through a screen.

Your nerves are tripled as you wait and brace yourself for beomgyu to return.

You don’t know exactly what you expected when Beomgyu finally walks through the door, but it wasn’t this.

He’s quiet. Too quiet. No grinning, smug from ear to ear, enthusiastic and blushing. No giddy, boastful oversharing of how amazing everything was, like you’d thought. Like what he usually does when he finds something exciting or funny about his day and rambles about it to you for so long with shiny eyes because he can never really contain his emotions when he feels happy and it's always endearing and he always kind of resembles a puppy when he’s like that. Beomgyu doesn’t even meet your eyes.

You get off your bed with wide eyes immediately at the sight of him, standing straight in anticipation way too quickly. Your heart is hammering in your chest, all the questions you wanted to ask blowing up in your mind, but getting jumbled and stuck in your throat.

What was it like?

How did it go?

Was she good?

Do you want to stream with her again?

“Beomgyu.” You start frantically, “How did it—?”

But before you can finish the question, he wraps his arms around you. Tightly. Practically collapsing against you. He presses his entire body into you, hugging you like he’s desperate to melt into your skin and he buries his head deep into your shoulder.

You gasp and freeze, deeply confused, and brows furrowed. Beomgyu is tense, his breath is warm but shaky against your bare neck. Still, your arms move slowly, hugging him back. You hold him, gently at first, then a little tighter. That seems to ease him slightly. His shoulders loosen a fraction. But his grip on you stays firm.

“...Gyu?” you ask, quieter, softer now.

He doesn't answer. You try to pull back slightly to look at him, but he just clings tighter, arms winding more secure around your waist and burying his face impossibly deeper into your shoulder and neck, shakily inhaling and exhaling.

“Hey…what’s wrong? Did something happen?” You run your hand gently up and down his back. Could it be winter? Maybe something happened?

“No.” Beomgyu mumbles finally as if he could read your mind, voice muffled against your hoodie. “She was…really nice, actually. Nothing happened.”

You blink at him, even more lost. “Then…?”

Beomgyu sighs. “I don’t know. It just- It didn’t…feel right.”

He pulls back from your shoulder, facing you now and you see how glossy his brown eyes had become. He looks at you like he’s trying to explain something he doesn’t quite understand himself, like he can’t figure why it’s having such an affect on him either. “Thought it would be like all the other streams, but it didn’t feel the same. At all. I don’t know, maybe I’m being dramatic. But it made me feel... weird. Not like, bad. Just…sort of, empty? Dissociated? I couldn’t stop thinking about—” Beomgyu pauses, eyes squeezing shut for a second before opening again, unsure. “It-it wasn’t…” Beomgyu sighs again. “It wasn’t you.”

Beomgyu frowns at you with a pout, bottom lip almost wobbling as his mouth becomes heavily downturned, and then he hides his face into your shoulder once more, gripping onto you harder.

That stuns you into silence.

It wasn’t you.

“Sorry. It’s weird, I know.”

“It’s not.” You say firmly. You cup the side of his face without thinking, brushing your thumb over the soft skin beneath his eye. He leans into it immediately, almost instinctively, eyes fluttering shut, relieved.

Beomgyu continues to hug you silently in that spot for a while. After a long, moment, he gently nudges you backwards guiding you to the bed and lowering both of you down onto it. He flops on top of you, his cheek pressed right against your chest as if you’re his pillow, arms wound tightly around your waist, cuddling you. A content sigh escapes him when you start slowly carding your fingers through his soft hair, stroking through the strands. His body is warm and so are is slow breaths against your skin, legs tangled with yours and he’s soo clingy.

You don’t know how long you just lie there. But you wouldn’t have been able to get up even if you wanted. You’d attempted to get up earlier to go to the bathroom, but beomgyu hadn’t let you, furrowing his brows in offence and whining annoyed at you loudly, refusing and clinging to you somehow even more.

Despite him restricting you from pissing—it was quite sweet, the way he was acting right now, wanting to be close to you the whole time and latching his limbs onto you like an octopus that won’t let go, making your heart flutter.

And then, after what felt like hours, he moves. Beomgyu slowly lifts his head from your chest, eyes fluttering open and he blinks at you. His gaze roams your face, slow and searching, and his hand comes up, delicately brushing some hair away from your face. There’s something quietly desperate in the way he looks at you. And then he leans down, soft lips grazing yours and he kisses you.

It starts slow at first, his lips moving against yours gently. He pulls away a little, gazing at you again, then he surges forward, kissing you deeper this time, hands moving to cup your face. His lips are plush and hot, moving with increasing fervour, breath hitching as he starts to get needier as time goes on. His tongue slips past your lips and he groans softly into your mouth, kissing you deeper, messier, more desperately like he’s been starved of it.

His hands trail down, grabbing at your waist, your hips, pushing himself even closer to you until there’s no kind of space left between you. His eyes are half lidded by now, lips so swollen and parted. One hand pushes your hoodie up, exposing your tits, lips kissing the space in between your breasts, then kissing all over your chest eagerly and brushing his mouth over the expanse. And then his pouty lips wrap around your nipple, hand groping and kneading the other, moaning at that.

You gasp as he continues to suck your tits blissfully, flicking and swirling his tongue harshly around your nipple that has you squirming, mouthing at you hungrily. He’s drooling and your chest and his lips are all shiny and slick with spit and drool. Then he switches to the other nipple. You feel him humping you by now, rocking his hips against yours, muffled desperate whines eliciting from his stuffed mouth, continuing to rut against you like a dumb, dirty dog.

He looks up at you innocently through his pretty lashes and doe brown eyes, plump lips still latched and wrapped around your tits, sound of him avidly sucking and slurping and moaning, evident around your dorm. He finally lets go with a wet pop, so drooly and messy and then he kisses you again, sloppily making out all wet, still humping you, breath ragged, eyes half lidded.

“I need you.” Beomgyu says when he pulls away from your lips, looking at you so intensely, so gravely. He sounds so wrecked. And he’s not just turned on, although that’s apparent too, but so wrecked and frenzied and needy already. “Pleaseee. I need to be closer to you. Wanna feel you. Please, I wanna fuck you so bad right now, I can’t” He sounds like he’s going to cry. “Let me, let me, baby, please…” He keeps kissing you between every plea, your mouth, your neck, your collarbone, any part of you he can kiss.

You let him because after everything that’s happened today, you want him just as badly, you’re just as desperate for beomgyu. His hands are already fumbling to rid you of your clothes and then his own, desperate and shaky and clumsy with urgency.

You stroke him a few times his cock twitching in your palm as he lets out a broken, pretty moan, “You want it that badly, hmm?”

Beomgyu nods frantically, his hips twitching forward like he can’t help himself, pupils dilating just from thinking about it.

You laugh, “You're so needy.” You bring his dick closer to you, dragging his tip through your slick folds, moving yourself against him, watching the way beomgyu’s face scrunches up, and then beomgyu does too, sliding his cock against your folds up and down until you say he can fuck you.

“Y/n…” He whines, “please, please. Can I be inside?” Beomgyu begs and implores, like not being inside of you right now is the most unbearable thing ever possible for him, like it physically hurts him, shaking and trembling just at the feeling of his wet dick sliding on your folds.

“Go on, baby.”

Beomgyu does not need to be told twice, he wastes no time, lining himself up and burying his swollen fat tip and the rest of his length t the hilt inside your warm, wet pussy. “O-oh, god…” Beomgyu squeezes his eyes shut, not even being able to open them, he throws his head back, pathetically moaning out long and loud, gasping for breath, trying to calm himself down, he could cum already.

Just as he starts to move, you stop him with a palm to his chest. You suddenly get an idea, “Wait, gyu.” He stops, whining in confusion, just blinking at you, too dazed.

You bring your phone out and start a stream, filming beomgyu. There wasn’t supposed to be a stream but you feel the urge. You want everyone to see, you want them to know at the end of the day, he’s yours, feeling possessive. You want them to see how he acts when he’s with you.

All the comments are flooded with talk of the stream beomgyu had done with winter previously, but the general consensus seemed to be that most were confused and asking of your relationship with beomgyu, some also debating on who they liked seeing beomgyu more with.

@angelsfav: Wait so you guys aren’t dating ????

@luuvsubs: I always thought they were dating. From their dynamic and everything they did and acted, it seemed like they were.

@31333_fan: seeing angel’s dynamic with two different partners was really interesting and stark haha. I like both so much ! 🩷

@ilovewiinter: I preferred angel and winter. She’s my favourite camgirl!

@freakyyes : winter >>> sorry not sorry 😋

@heartgel: Nahhh he has so much more chemistry with who he usually streams with. He’s wayy more into this 😭 look at him 🫠

“Are we dating?” you repeat to the screen. “No. We’re not.”

You place the phone on your table so they can properly see you both. Beomgyu really doesnt care about anything at all at the moment, he just wants to fuck you. You tell him he can start again and beomgyu begins to move.

Beomgyu fucks into you slowly at first, trying to control himself with desperate, restrained, shaky rolls of his hips like he wants to feel everything, every inch of you, eyes focused and obsessed, entranced with the lewd sight of your pussy slowly swallowing him in. He moans every time he bottoms out, eyes fluttering shut, mouth slack and cute, deep, breathy little cries. You can’t tell if he’s going so slow, moving like this and holding back because he’s waiting for permission, to tell him he can go faster, or he’s desperately trying to savour it, but you want more.

You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper into you and hands sliding up his back, clutching at the muscles there, moving and rolling your own hips to meet his as well, guiding him to fuck into you more. Beomgyu yelps, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head at that, a choked moan slipping past his lips, hands placed on the mattress on either side of you, faltering, “S-sshit...!”

"Does it feel good, puppy?" You coo at him, one of your hands coming to tangle and caress his messy, long hair, loving how he's already falling apart because of you.

Beomgyu nods like a brainless baby, eyelids drooping with pleasure, slurring his words, his tiny lisp becoming slightly more evident, drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth, watching your tits deliciously jiggle with every thrust, "Ss-so goood-ughh. Pussy feels s’ good, so perfect...mmm-ah."

It’s not long until beomgyu completely loses himself in the feeling of you, his thrusts quickly building up in speed, slamming his hips harder and deeper, erratically. “Wanna be inside you forever…wanna be—ahh this close t’you all thetime...” Beomgyu is just blabbering random shit by now, deliriously slamming his cock into your now soaked pussy repeatedly. Beomgyu holds onto you tightly, face falling into the crook of your neck, utterly wrecked, his drool all on your neck now, his moans and groans spilling into your ear.

“Yeah? You’re all mine aren’t you?” You coax him, your own eyes glazed up at this point, your puppy fucking you so well, such a good boy.

Beomgyu’s hands scramble for yours blindly and desperately, interlacing your fingers together, squeezing hard, holding your hands and refusing to let go. He’s still clinging so close to you like a lifeline, like he can’t bear not to, like he wants to dissolve into you completely, all so sticky and hot, you hold onto him tightly too.

“Yeah. Yours. ‘m yours…” He lifts his head from your neck, bringing his forehead to yours, looking at you like you hung the stars.

“Only I can make you feel this good right?” So maybe you are trying to stroke your own ego a bit by now, but you need him to say it, need everyone else to hear it too.

Beomgyu nods and hums, giving you a dreamy look, pathetically whimpering and whining, face contorted in overwhelming bliss, “mmh. Only you.” He squeezes your hand tight at that, nuzzling his nose with yours, forehead still touching yours, peppering sweet kisses all over your face. Your heart feels like it might give out.

Your pussy clenches tightly around him and beomgyu looks genuinely so far gone, so dumbed out, so fucked out from your pussy, his face the most debauched you’ve seen him, groaning, “baby…ah ‘m so close” Beomgyu’s cock plows into you so sloppily, squelchy wet slaps of skin when he fucks your hole feverishly and uncoordinated, continuous strangled moans leaving his mouth by now.

Beomgyu is so incredibly sweaty, messy hair wet and falling into his half lidded eyes, sweat dripping down his sharp jaw, nose and forehead, you’re probably just the same too, if not worse. But beomgyu just looks so good and so hot, so sweaty and so sexy. The sweat makes his whole body glow and shine under the dim light, and god, does he truly look like an angel right now. It’s ironic, so on-the-nose. Angel313. His username. It’s unfair how unreal, how ethereal beomgyu looks.

And beomgyu is so loud, unable to contain his noises of pleasure, he should probably keep it down but you don’t want him to, you adore hearing the sounds he makes because of you. The moans loud and relentless, tumbling out of him uncontrollably, reverberating around the room as well as the slick sounds of his cock moving inside you.

He’s shaking with the effort not to cum too soon, not to fall apart so fast that it embarrasses him. But it’s useless. You know him way too well by now, you’d watched all his streams before, streamed with him too much by now to know exactly when he’s close even when he tries not to, you know what makes him twitch, what makes his eyes roll back, what makes that pretty, loud mouth of his go slack and dumb.

“Cum for me, pretty angel. Show them how good you are for me.”

One of his hands goes down to your pretty folds, thumbing over your clit fast, rubbing in frantic little circles, desperate to have you cumming on his cock too, the other still interlocked with yours needily. Beomgyu ruts into you helplessly like a wild, panting dog, slamming his stuttering hips relentlessly with yours.

“I-I’m gonna c-cum—“ He chokes and stutters out. You bring your hand to thumb at his sensitive nipples, playing with the buds harshly and that brings him to the edge, “F-fuck, baby I-I’m cummingg I’m cumming…!” Beomgyu wails, crying out, he feels his orgasm build in his stomach and so do you, both of you letting go and cumming together, so intense, it almost feels spiritual.

You grab his face, smacking your lips with his, kissing him and swallowing down his moans so hungrily, kissing so deep it steals the air from both your lungs but neither of you pull away, his forehead still rests softly against yours, his sweat sweat dripping onto you. You feel so much of beomgyu’s hot, sticky cum spilling into you continuously, completely milking him and his body jerks, shaking violently. Beomgyu cums so hard he genuinely sees stars, just feeling pure ecstasy and fully, utterly spent.

When you both genuinely need to breathe, you pull away, lips parting with a wet, thin pull, a sllippery, slivery string of saliva still connecting your swollen mouths. Your breaths are ragged, chests heaving against each other, your skin damp and flushed. You reach out blindly, fingers fumbling over the desk until you finally manage to end the stream with a click, not really bothering to look at the donations or comments.

“Holy fuck…” Beomgyu shuts his eyes, breathing out, holding onto both of your hands.

“Quite literally.” You pant, dazed.

You both giggle at that, lightheaded, beomgyu shaking his head with a breathless laugh, grinning tiredly at you, forehead dropping to yours once more.

Beomgyu starts to pull out but you stop him, “keep fucking me, beomie. Isn’t that what you wanted? Said you want to stay in my pussy forever hmm?” Your voice teasing, brushing his sweaty bangs out his face, grinning wickedly. But he doesn’t complain.

“Y-yeah.” Beomgyu just nods, moaning weakly, already fucking and stuffing his cum back into you again with gasped whimpers and whines and wincing of overstimulation, trembling. You really don’t know how long you guys go at it for, all blurry and dizzy, just remembering beomgyu’s loud cries of your name and cumming again and again and again, clutching and grasping onto you.

Beomgyu🪽: did you want to hang out? me, tae and kai are gonna play tekken !! 😋

Y/n🎷: nah can’t sorry. I’m REVISING in the library with a friend. 🤓📚Which YOU should be doing too btw…🤨🧐🫵

Beomgyu🪽: but can’t you just come? Can’t you do that later? I need to beat you in tekken again. 👉👈 And I don’t need to revise, I’m naturally talented in mewsik >_< 🎤🎸🎶

Y/n🎷: what kind of spelling is that. Tell Kai he should be revising rn too wtf it’s literally exam season

Beomgyu🪽: Kai said you’re a neek. Are you really not coming ??☹️☹️🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Y/n 🎷: I’m literally at the library rn, no.

Beomgyu 🪽: who are you with anyway? Music practice room guy?

Y/n 🎷: yeah

Beomgyu🪽: cool, have fun revising.

Beomgyu’s stomach twists. He scowls at your message for a little longer, fingers lingering on the keyboard like he wants to type something else but then he doesn’t. With a little too much force, he places his phone on the table face-down, knitting his eyebrows in a frown, arms crossed, grumbling to himself.

He kinda hates that you’re not coming over. He kinda really hates that you’re hanging out with that other guy instead of him too. Do you not like his company anymore or something?

He really, really wanted to see you today. He’d even gotten extra snacks for you, the ones he knows are your favourite and cleared the space on the floor so you could sit next to him. He didn’t think you wouldn’t come. Is he being dramatic right now? You’re just studying in the library, it’s probably what he should be doing too. But, you’ve never said no to hanging out ever before…you’d still come, just for a bit even if you didn’t want to.

Well, at least he still gets to see you today, because there is a stream later tonight.

“What? Y/n’s not coming?” Taehyun asks from where he sits, crosslegged on beomgyu’s bed, controller in hand, starting the game.

“No.” Beomgyu sulks, sounding very much like a kicked puppy. “They’re too busy studying with this guy they met in the music practice rooms. They’re always hanging out with him lately…” The last part is said with so much bitterness in his voice, muttering and complaining under his breath.

Taehyun raises an eyebrow. “Do you know who this guy is?”

“No.”

“Have you asked?” Huening Kai chimes in, sat on the floor, back slumped against the bed a controller also in his hand and munching on a packet of crisps.

“No.” Beomgyu huffs. “Anyway. As I was about to say before, I’ve had a really, really big revelation, something highly important.”

Kai gasps, eyes wide. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m not a fucking seahorse.” Beomgyu rolls his eyes, “I was going to say…” He closes his eyes, inhales and exhales dramatically and finally declares, “I think…I like y/n more than IU.”

They’re both silent for a second but neither of them seem particularly shocked to hear that. Then, kai resumes munching on the crisps loudly again, unfazed.

“That’s your big revelation?” Taehyun asks, incredulously.

Beomgyu takes offence. “I think it’s really shocking. Why are you not shocked? I’ve liked IU since I was nine! She’s my first love.”

Huening Kai gasps dramatically, mocking him. “Even more than Park Boyoung?!”

Beomgyu hesitates. He takes a moment to really think, deeply in thought, as if that was the hardest question he’s ever had to answer, like those moralistic ‘would you rather change the track to the baby or kill 5 people’ dilemmas. “Possibly… yes.”

“Okay wait, no.” Kai sits up, “This is serious.”

“I was saying this was serious before! So, like what should I do? Do you guys think I’m going insane? I’m going insane. I’ve lost it.” Beomgyu grabs a fistful of his own hair, pulling at it and groaning. “I feel like…i feel like the tragic second male lead in a kdrama right now who like, watches the main couple get together in the rain with an umbrella in his hand, smiling even though he’s dying inside.” He doesn’t know exactly when it happened but after he came back from doing that stream with winter, it all became so very clear to him, suddenly crashing down on him. He thinks it’s been happening for a while. And it’s very serious.

“No, I think it was just inevitable from the start.” Taehyun replies calmly, eyes focused on the menu screen, clicking a few buttons, “I think it’s hard not to catch feelings given your situation. It makes sense. I’m pretty sure y/n likes you too.”

“Just tell them bro.” Huening Kai adds, his mouth disgustingly full of crisps as he spoke.

Beomgyu’s head shot up. “Tell them? Ew. Gross. No. I’m not doing that.” He comes closer to where Kai sat, reaching for a crisp in the bag himself, eating it with a pout. “They don’t even like me. They like him. That annoying practice room guy, whoever he is. Ugh, whatever. Maybe I’m just getting really confused because of the nature of what we do. Maybe, I don’t even like y/n. Yeah…yeah.” Beomgyu nods conspicuously, agreeing with himself with narrowed eyes, stroking his chin slowly like an old, beared man, except, he doesn’t have a beard.

“You’re so full of shit.” Taehyun throws a pillow aggressively at beomgyu’s head.

“Oww!”

Taehyun and Kai exchange a pointed look, shaking their heads, maybe it wasn’t going to happen sooner than they both were beginning to think.

Beomgyu huffs in defence, “Say if I did, even if I did…tell them. It could jeopardise everything! We’re supposed to be professional partners. If I say something and it gets weird between us, what then?” His chest tightens a little at the thought. You could stop streaming with him, what was he supposed to do then? Continue solo again, find someone else? He already knows now he wouldn’t want to be streaming with anyone else if it wasn’t you. And if he went solo, it’d be boring again, he’d get less money. But it wasn’t even about the streaming anymore, he’d gotten so close to you in a matter of a few months. You’d become such an important person, a staple in his life so naturally, that he couldn’t remember what it was even like before you had entered it. He wants to be close to you all the time. Days without you are weird now. When you’re not around, he’s always missing you. He’d rather it stay how it is now than not have you in his life at all. So no, he’s not going to risk it.

“You should at least find out who this guy is.” Kai yawns, tossing the bag of crisps to the side, taking the controller in both his hands, ready to play now.

“Why?” Beomgyu asks suspiciously.

“To see if he’s way hotter than you.”

Beomgyu gasps, scandalised. “What if he is?”

You sat hunched in the computer lab of the library, all your notes and books and manuscript paper sprawled madly on the desk as you desperately tried to learn about advanced music theory and Schenkerian analysis, you have no idea how kai and beomgyu aren’t stressed out right now, your head beginning to hurt as you sat besides haechan who was also studying, a lot more calmly than you.

The library and computer lab was pretty packed and alive since it was exam season, being able to see other stressed out uni students fighting the same losing battle, and groups of friends who were gossiping about their latest traumatic situationship of the semester—very entertaining to eavesdrop on, though distracting as you were supposed to be revising, both you and haechan giggling at the outrageous things you hear.

Haechan glances at what you’re attempting to revise at the minute and pitifully shakes his head at your screen, “Man, I’m so glad I didn’t pick Music.”

You groan, head on the desk, “I can’t do it.”

“Wanna go for a walk around campus instead?” Haechan offers.

You laugh, “you know what, yeah.” Both of you leaving all your possessions on the desk with blind trust, wandering out the library into the late afternoon sun.

Before the walk properly began, you both made a detour to the campus cafe, purchasing a drink to cheer you up a bit more. You think you deserve a little sweet treat, having been at wits end to warrant one.

You laugh and walk around with haechan, drinks in hand and sipping on them, the campus golden and bathed in soft amber light, a pleasant breeze that wasn’t too hot or too cold. The cherry blossom trees lining the main path had all burst into full bloom by now, their pretty pink petals littering the ground you walked on, falling elegantly. Some students were already sitting on the grass, chatting away like it was summer already. It was so peaceful to see, and a great breath of fresh air from studying in the library.

You stop to stare at the cherry blossom trees, pointing excitedly, because no matter how many springs have come and how many cherry blossom trees bloomed when the time came every year, it never failed to always leave you in awe at just how beautiful they are. “Look at them. It’s so pretty!”

Haechan nods in agreement. The temptation of taking a picture overcomes you and you bring out your phone, taking a few shots of the cherry blossoms and the sunset behind, then holding your phone out to show him, proudly.

He leans closer, squinting at your screen, smiling. “Okayy, photographer. You should post those.”

PING !!

Suddenly, you get an extremely loud buzz on your phone.

@Angel313 going live soon !!

Shit.

The notification lights up your entire screen so obnoxiously.

You freeze for a second, trying not to visibly freak out or act suspiciously, yanking your phone away from him and fumbling to switch it off, putting it back in your pocket. You could’ve sworn you’d switched your notifications off.

Obviously haechan saw it too, you saw how his eyebrows had creased in slight intrigue. But it’s not like it’s some promiscuous username, it wasn’t like it screamed ‘porn!’ it could be anything for all he knows. How would he know that was a camboy, that could literally be a youtuber, gamer or anything else? Yeah, It’s really not that deep, he wouldn’t think it was deep.

He doesn’t say anything about it, which means he probably didn’t think much of it, he just continues casually walking and talking again, changing the subject and you’re very thankful he never asks. Your heart still thudding in your ears for the rest of the stroll.

Beomgyu sat pliantly beside you on the bed, legs folded, hands resting in his lap, eyes following your movements with curiosity, your hand was on his chin, tilting it up, the other intimately applying coats of your lip gloss slowly onto his lips.

“Ow. It burns! What the fuck.” Beomgyu furrows his brows, hissing. He could feel the tingling sensation on his lips right now and it was deeply uncomfortable.

You chuckle, amused. “Yeah, it’s a plumping lip gloss. And it doesn’t even burn that much. Why are you being so dramatic?” Dragging the applicator across his bottom lip in a deliberate motion.

Beomgyu wrinkles his nose. “Whatever that means.”

You roll your eyes, deadpan. “It’s in the name. It plumps your lips.”

“Well it feels really weird.”

“It’s alright, it’ll go away.” You, apply one more coat then pull back, looking satisfied. You take the phone in your hand, filming beomgyu’s lips up close, “Look at the pretty doll.” Needless to say, the chat is blowing up at the sight of angel in lip gloss, the comments lighting up with strings of hearts and emojis.

ANGEL IS TOO PRETTY WTF JDJDJ

LOOK AT THOSE LIPS ?!? 😩 he has the prettiest lips ever

RUIN HIM PLEASE 💕

You’d even done beomgyu’s hair, putting it into a half up poinytail and adding one of your clips in his hair.

Beomgyu looks so good with your lip gloss on, his lips tinted, glittery, sparkly and even plumper than they usually were. He looked so kissable. God, you wanted to kiss him immediately, ruin him, wreck him. But you stop yourself, you were going to ruin him in a different way.

“On your knees, pretty.” Your voice sweet but commanding. Beomgyu does what he’s told and moves immediately, dropping from the bed without hesitation. His knees hit the floor with a soft thud, looking up at you with his sparky brown, innocent, doe eyes, thick doll lashes fluttering like butterfly wings as he looks up at you.

You bring the strap you were wearing to his mouth, tapping his lips with it a few times, watching the strings of the thick sticky gloss connect to the top of the strap.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

Beomgyu slowly opens his mouth wider, still not breaking eye contact with you. You slowly push the silicone into beomgyu’s pretty mouth. He begins to suck soft and slow without even being told, rocking his head, wrapping his shiny lips around it.

“Yeah, that’s it,” you murmur at the sight, hand stroking over his cheek, “So pretty for me, babe.”

He moans at that, spurring him on, looking up at you desperately. Beomgyu’s hands move to eagerly hold onto your hips, but you swat them away, “No touching.” Beomgyu whines in protest but keeps his hands on his lap instead, balled into fists to stop himself from touching you. His poor dick, hard and leaking in his pants by now.

Beomgyu is so into it by now, focused, bobbing his head earnestly, trying to take more, wanting to please you like he’s really making you feel good as if it’s actually your real body, moaning loudly around the strap. When beomgyu moves further on the faux cock, the harness begins to bump against your clit and you try chasing the sensation by pushing more of your strap down beomgyu’s throat, grasping onto his hair and little ponytail to guide him more harshly. He softly gags, tears springing in his eyes as it hits the back of his throat but he doesn’t stop.

“God, you’re so hot like this pretty doll face, taking my cock so well.” You moan from the feeling of it hitting your clit but also at how pathetic beomgyu looks right now.

"Mmph—mmmghd.” Beomgyu garbles and moans around the silicone in response, drool slobbering all on his chin and wet mouth, spit mixed with the gloss, creating a slick shiny mess on his mouth and the toy, teary, pleading puppy eyes blinking up at you.

But you continue to ignore his gags, forcing him to deepthroat the strap, hands roughly pulling at his hair.

You then bring his face all the way down to the base of the dildo, his nose pressing into your lower abdomen and you hold him there. His body shakes, wide panicked eyes, muffled chokes and cries. But you still keep him there. There’s tears streaming down his face, helpless, cheeks hollowed.

After a while, you let go, he pulls himself completely off and splutters as thick strings of drool connect his lips and chin to the tip of the dildo. Beomgyu gasps for air, choking and coughing and crying, wiping at his chin.

You bring him up, seeing how you’d ruined the pretty doll, his cute hairstyle now all messy, clip half loose and slipping from his bangs, eyes glassy, lashes prettily clumped with tears, tears stream still evident on his rosy cheeks, his lips utterly wrecked, puffy, red, slick and wet and swollen, lip gloss and spit all around and smeared. It’s gorgeous.

You kiss him before he can even properly catch his breath, not giving him that much time for air but he melts into it, kissing you back desperately as if you were the air he needs to breathe, spit and gloss smearing onto your own mouth, all tongue and sloppy, whimpering in your mouth.

Pushing him onto the bed, you straddle him as he lays with breathless anticipation underneath you. You’d agreed to peg him today and he’d sucked your strap so well, with such dedication, being so good, you wanted to give it to him already, wanted to make him feel so good.

You throw his shirt off him, pierced belly comes into view. That iconic little hello kitty charm glinting at you from his navel, rising and falling with every shaky inhale as his tummy trembles underneath your touch. Placing your hand on his tiny waist, you marvel at how he is beneath you. You kiss him everywhere, down his neck, chest, tummy, marking him, sucking soft hickeys as he lets out soft little whines, tugging at the sheets.

You move further down, leaving him in his underwear, spreading his legs apart, kissing the soft unblemished skin of his pretty plush thighs, sucking his inner thighs as his breath hitches, so sensitive there, biting, licking, covering, littering and painting them in purpley and pink splotches. Beomgyu squirms and shivers, restless as your mouth gets so close, too close to his aching, hard cock but not enough. “Pleasee.” He’s breathless, legs spreading even wide for you, “just—touch me, already.” Beomgyu whines and pouts. “You’re teasing me. I’m dying over here.”

You roll your eyes but tug his underwear down and it’s like he suddenly remembers something, panicked, horrified. He shuts his legs, hands instantly flying to cover the area. Beomgyu is blushing furiously, face and ears flushed, his cheeks blooming a pretty shade of pink, pinker than the cherry blossoms you’d seen earlier today. He avoids your gaze, looking anywhere but you, so incredibly embarrassed, so shy.

That’s weird. Beomgyu was rarely ever this shy anymore. He hadn’t got this embarrassed since the first time he streamed in front of you.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, opening his legs and pulling his hands away nonetheless.

That’s when you see it— a pretty little bedazzled heart shaped, pink gem, resting snugly in beomgyu’s hole, catching the light like treasure in a chest. What the hell.

You’d never seen it before and it was driving you crazy, in a good and bad way.

“Oh my god.” You gasp, dramatically, scandalised. “You whore! Have you been wearing this all day?”

“N-no! Just a few hours before you came!” Beomgyu squeaks and splutters, face buried in his hands, trying to explain himself as if he’d committed some atrocious, heinous crime. “Couldn’t help myself…and, and—I missed you.” Beomgyu mumbles, sulky, “You didn’t even come today! Too busy with that guy.” He suddenly furrows his brows at you, glaring, indignant, petulant, as if it was your fault.

You gape at him. “You couldn’t even wait? Didn’t ask me, didn’t even tell me, touching yourself without me there…you brat.” You spit out and tut, shaking your head at him. In hindsight, it wasn’t even that bad. You just wanted any kind of excuse to punish him now. In fact, you’re almost salivating at the sight of beomgyu wearing a pretty pink jewelled butt plug.

He lets out an offended noise, protesting. “I just warmed up a little. I was being…” He almost laughs, playing coy, then looks back up at you innocently, “…proactive.”

“You were being an impatient whore.”

Your eyes drag slowly over to the plug again, taking in how pink and sparkly it is, how snug it looks, how his cute tiny hole must’ve adjusted to it, gently stretched and waiting for you, squirming for hours. God. Beomgyu looked so good with it. It suited him so well.

Beomgyu studies your face, searching your eyes and his face slowly turns into a satisfied grin, regaining some of that usual bratty confidence. “You love it. I know you do.”

You ignore him, watching the screen on the phone, turning to the live chat, smiling cryptically. “What do guys think? Should we still fuck him? Or should we punish him?”

Beomgyu’s smug little smirk falters instantly replaced with a dreaded look. But the chat is already flooding in.

Punish him.

Spank him till he cries >_< 🌸

Slap him until he’s really sorry ! Make sure you don’t fuck him at all.

You grin. Almost everyone says to punish him, that he deserved a spanking instead.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, shaking his head devastated, mortified. “No.” His voice breaks, “Don’t listen to them—please. Please fuck me.”

“They’re saying you should get spanked instead.” You shrug as if it’s all out of your control.

Beomgyu whines again, more pathetic this time, distressed, trying to bring your hand to his dick, grinding up against your hand. “Please—please, baby, I need it so bad, I-i’ve been good-”

You swat your hand away in disgust. Instead, You grip his face roughly, forcing him to look at you, “Do you want to get punished even more?”

Beomgyu recoils like a dejected helpless puppy, knowing he can’t do anything anymore. He slowly flips over onto his stomach and you bend him over your lap.

“You guys are evil.” Beomgyu comically mutters bitterly, casting a betrayed glare at the camera to the viewers before turning it on you. “And you—you’re so mean.” He pouts but accepts his fate.

SLAP !

Beomgyu opens his mouth to say more but his words dissolve into a loud, startled moan as your palm lands on the curve of his small ass with a sharp, echoing smack.

SLAP !

You strike again, spanking beomgyu continuously as he sucks in air loudly, biting his lip, gasping, back arching, trying to hold in the desperate pained whimpers, dick twitching uncontrollably with every smack, thighs quivering.

You spank him again, impossible harder this time, each hit ringing out obscenely, his cheeks painfully reddened and crimson and burning. Sight so pretty with his ass marked and red and the sparkly pink gem nuzzled in between. Your handprint is evident on his ass by now and beomgyu begins to let out muffled cries at your unrelenting slaps, his cock hurting so bad and leaking, rubbing against your thigh from your smacks, smearing his precum there.

“B-baby! Please! S-stop, please fuck me!” Beomgyu mewls and shudders as you still strike him violently, “I-it hurts!” You’re not sure whether he’s talking about his dick or his ass.

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to be a needy little slut without permission.” You spank his angry scarlet skin again.

Slap !

Beomgyu full on sobs, tears spilling freely from his eyes, hiccuping, wailing loudly, legs thrashing and shaking his head, “S-sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m s-sorry!”

You gently knead the sore flesh of his ass, then let your fingers toy and play with the plug, slowly, teasingly, you ease it out until the widest part stretches him, then pushing it back in his pretty hole with a wet pop, taking it out and thrusting it fully back in his hole, doing that over and over again, fucking him with the little toy, moving it around in circles.

“Ah-ahh—fuck- baby—” Beomgyu gasps, and jolts at the little pleasure, desperate for anything. He lets out the loudest whorish, slutty moans, mewling high pitched, eyes half lidded. He’s such a terrible, weepy mess.

"Baby...you're so pretty like this,” you coo, sweetly, still continuing with your ministrations of moving the jewelled butt plug around in his ass, grinding it in circles and spanking him raw, “you’re such a slutty whore.”

“O-only for- ah! you.” Beomgyu weeps.

You giggle. “Not for your viewers? You’re so ungrateful, angel.”

“Can I cum? Please, please, please. I’ve been good. Pleaseplease” Beomgyu moans.

“Should we let the poor puppy cum?” You glance at the screen, checking what they’re saying, “…sorry baby, they’re saying no.” You tell beomgyu pitifully, feeling slightly sorry for him.

Beomgyu shakes his head wildly, whole body wracked with sobs, shedding so many tears, heart broken. “No! no no no ! I can’t-”

But he doesn’t even listen, it becomes too much and he can’t hold it in, doesn’t even care, in fact, he’s annoyed at you and viewers for being so cruel to him, defiant. The slapping and playing with his hole and the small rubs against his poor cock makes him lose it, spurting and splattering helpless thick hot creamy copious amount of cum all on your thighs as he shudders, whole body convulsing, still crying and sniffling, his pretty legs trembling delicately like a baby deer.

You blink at him. “Did you just cum anyway?You’re so disobedient!”

Beomgyu whimpers, nervous. And there goes the endless punishments beomgyu receives.

You give beomgyu the best aftercare you can after that, praising him and promising to actually peg him next time.

He doesn’t let go of you, insisting on you both showering together, holding onto each other as the warm water sprays on you both, steam rising around, beomgyu groans at the sensation, head looking dramatically on your shoulder, his hair all damp and the bangs attractively in his eyes as he clings to you even when you try to massage his scalp with shampoo, head hiding in your neck, kissing your shoulders and neck soft and tender, making your heart flutter.

Both of you now lay in his bed and you cuddle him, skin still warm and clean from the shower, wrapping your arm around him, bringing him close your side as you play with his damp hair, whispering sweet things in his hair as he sleepily hums, snuggling closer.

Then beomgyu speaks up suddenly, “Hey,” his voice low and soft.

You tilt your head to look at him. “Hmm?”

Beomgyu shifts to face you, head propped up on his elbow, brows slightly furrowed. “Who is he?”

You blink, confused. “What? Who?”

“Music practice room guy.”

You raise your brow, then answer casually. “Oh, his name is Haechan.”

Beomgyu’s eyes suddenly widen, entire body tensed, getting up instantly, “Haechan?! As in cello playing Haechan?”

You sit up too, utterly confused by now and nod then remembering, “Oh yeah, he actually said he knew you.”

“Y/n.” Beomgyu’s voice is sharp, incredulous. “Do you even know—”

But a loud buzz cuts through the room. His phone screen lights up on the nightstand. Beomgyu frowns and picks it up.

Haechan: I know you’re a camboy, beomgyu. I always knew you were a fucking whore. Just wait until I tell everyone 🤣🤣.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️ At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: yipppiiieee !! It’s finally 😭😭 sorry if the smut is just really badly written and messy I was lowkey not there when writing it. Also there’s probably only one chapter left ! So tell me if there’s certain scenes or stuff you wanted reader and beomgyu to do in terms of sex 🤔 Also you maybe confused about the plot twist but there was kinda a poorly excused hint in one of the earlier chapters on who haechan could be and why 🤔 also someone tell me if I need to add more warnings idk what I missed 😭😭

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