4izn
4izn
say you love me
103 posts
bee. 21. txt side blog
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4izn · 7 days ago
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I read bunches of your thoughts about chaebol beomgyu and got goosebumps. we literally share same brain cells 😱
ahhh omg,, do I really have that many? I feel like I just repeat myself over and over,, but you get it... cw, nothing much, implied sex and choking
chaebol!beomgyu who's strictly business, order and perfection. swallowed whole by his work and doesn't give himself time for anything else... with the exception of a few one night stands whenever he feels restless. all casual of course, no strings attached.
chaebol!beomgyu who never slips up until one fateful night where he meets you. — you're all talk, giggles and cheesy jokes, everything he's not. still, it's only one night and it shouldn't matter. except it does. because suddenly you're there, in his world of professionalism and work.
you don't fit and you don't belong there. yet he craves your chaotic presence just as much as he loathes it. his fingers curl around his phone — just the way they had around your neck the night before, as he debates wether he should call you up yet again or not. when did he cross the line of desperation? how many more times would you show up for him before asking for more. he can't give you that, he knows it.
so why does he want to?
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4izn · 9 days ago
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the thought of overstimulated hyuka who's soooo pussy drunk that he can't stop fucking himself into u >< even when u guys have been at it for hours and his cock is slick with cum from the both of u, red and sensitive and twitching, he just can't stop himself!!
he'd have u on your stomach, his hands holding onto your plump ass that's red and raw from how rough he was being with u earlier,, he's going slow now, pulling his cock allll the way out of your throbbing pussy before slowly pushing it allll the way back in
"you feel s'good, so so good.. baby i can't stop.." he's whimpering over you and at the hushed moans you're letting out,, not only can he not get enough of the feeling of your tight cunt sucking him in, but he loves hearing the pretty sounds you make every time he pushes his load deeper into u <3
"baby i'm gonna cum again- i'm gonna fucking cum again-" he sounds like he's on the verge of tears, letting out the most raw and lewd sounds as he starts messily thrusting into your pussy again
when he finally releases he's a shaking mess, his moans choked out and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he's milked of each and every last drop of creamy cum he can muster while crying out your name <3
sometimes that's when he'll call it quits. he'll lay with you and place gentle kisses on your face, holding you against his chest as the two of you spend a little while recovering from the mess he made <3
but other times, no matter how hard his poor cock is throbbing, when he really can't get enough of u, he'll start moving again, his head lowering towards you so his lips are gently brushing against your ear
"y-you can take one more, can't you, baby? just one.. m-more.."
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4izn · 12 days ago
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Now Live ! Stream: 9
Genre: camboy au, college au, smut, crack, ongoing series
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: 8.3k
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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 like a slap to the face.
@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.
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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.
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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.
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.”
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 questions he’s ever had to answer. “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 huff in defence, “Say if I did, even 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, beginning to spiral. “What if he is?”
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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 counterpoints, 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.
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.
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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 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.
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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 😭😭
Taglist: @pogigyu @denleave1088 @mashimarshmello @cha0thicpisces @soobsfairy444 @lcvetyvn @1ummcalhoody6 @imrllytootiredforthis @bjttersweets @aliceoracleollormusic @yongboksgf @daniarafid @nyanggk @aggiebackstage @qluvr @artypjmlbss @dickdeprived @lilactangerine @kissmeow @katsukeis @shutupheathersorryheatherr @mastergibbs93 @tae-ology @lynanist @guavagyu @soobhns @mikeeel @multistansimp4life @goquokka @scarfac3 @roses-for-my-love @maxismp1 @peachenle @i-loved-you42 @vampcharxter @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @yuhjoeyuh @ren-junwrld @eggeutarteuu @staurdvst @vivioluh @itbtoblikethatsometimes @nct-dreamteam @ixayjun @beomgewwwwww (Ask to be added to the taglist !!)
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4izn · 14 days ago
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4izn · 14 days ago
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oh my god this had me CRYING
i love love the intimacy between soobin and mc in all their interactions 😭😭 genuinely makes my heart warm
when soobin’s sister started talking to mc i thought they were going to have a cute mother to mother moment… i’m SOOOO mad at her !! obviously she doesn’t have the whole picture and doesn’t really know mc but soobin is an adult !!! jfc that scene genuinely pissed me off. it’s soobin’s job to handle his family and tell them about their adoption plans !!!
anyway, another moment when my heart dropped was the ending. idk if i missed it, but i thought this was a full fic <//3 can’t wait for part two, tho !!
and then i'll leave without a trace
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pairing: choi soobin x reader
genre: collegeau!, parenthoodau!, angst, nsfw, fluff
synopsis: your relationship with choi soobin is not a normal one. one might see you two out in public and assume you are lovers. his mother thinks you two are soulmates. your friends keep telling you to just date the guy already. but how can you bring yourself to date a total stranger? well maybe you should have thought about that before you decided to have a baby with him.
word count: 14.9k
warnings: mentions of drinking alcohol, intoxication, foul language, stds and other sexual diseases, depression, postpartum depression, parenting struggles, toxic familial relationships, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, sex while inebriated, sex while pregnant, oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, and breeding kink
playlist: and then i'll leave without a trace
taglist: @beomgyusluver @94vsmonbebe @soobaglesblog @dawngyu @justandloyal2961 @yezznn @lesbiansforseonghwa @soobinieswife @chwesuh-imnida
note: i literally just finished this and like the psycho i am, I'm uploading it right away! i really hope you guys like it, this is my first time ever writing angst, as well as touching on the subject of pregnancy. this is part 1! i plan to do a part 2 in Soobin's pov bc I just like to make things harder for myself! also I had so many different entries I used all 30 photos for my dividers sorry for how plain it looks TT pls lmk how you like it! i want to be able to improve as i continue writing! much love <333
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He’s surprisingly timid despite his appearance. That was your first impression of Choi Soobin. 
You two were at a party. It was homecoming season, the summer heat still resonating through the air even after the sun had set. You were cramped inside an apartment while the entire place was flooded with college students drunk off of cheap liquor. 
Your friends are busy gossiping about Jimin’s Psych professor cheating on his wife with his new T.A. You’re next to them silent, teetering between buzzed and tipsy. Your eyes drift off into the crowd, and maybe it’s because you’re currently sitting on the kitchen counter, but you feel as if you can see everything and anything.
Everyone’s heads are turned away from you but one.
A tall, awkward-looking man with tousled dark hair stares at you from his position across the room. He’s alone, back against the wall, two hands nursing his solo cup.
Your eyes connect for just two seconds before he looks away, he distracts himself by taking a sip of his drink.
You continue to watch him. This seems to make him skittish, he doesn’t know what to do. So he just downs his drink and excuses himself from his spot, struggling to push through the crowd to find refuge down the hall.
He’s weird, you think.
“Who’s that?” You tap Minjeong’s shoulder, roughly pointing out the man just as he ducks behind the corner. 
“Huh? Oh, I think that’s Soobin, one of Heeseung’s friends maybe.” She makes a face as she is unsure. You sit back up and look around again. Soobin is gone.
You don’t think about him for the rest of the night.
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He’s handsome, this stranger.
The room is dark and you can barely see, but you know he is. He’s got soft skin, a tall round nose, and pouty lips that kiss the skin of your neck just right.
You don’t have to speak a word for him to know how to handle you, his hands do all the talking as they pull off your clothes, dancing against your bare body. You get chills every time you feel his breath tickle your ear.
And when his cock slips inside your heat with ease, you exhale with a smile. You lean into his touch, he’s more gentle than you could ever imagine. 
Your moans fill the room just like he fills you. You two are dancing in sync to the musical rhythm of what was pure raw intoxicated sex.
With every thrust you can feel your high climb up and up, you’re clawing for a release, and you’ll get it no matter what. A hand on your breast, another on your clit, anything to stimulate you more.
Sex has never felt so good. Maybe it was because you were drunk, or maybe it was because you were super horny, who knows? What you do know is that this was a high you never wanted to come down from.
He flips you around like a doll, and hungrily kisses you like you’re his dying meal. You can’t help but clench. Your hips move on their own, grinding up against the stranger. You consume him as he consumes you.
You beg God for the moment to never end.
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Soobin is pulling up his pants as you sit on the edge of your bed, still wrapped in your sheets. You’re a bit ashamed that you can’t seem to remember what happened last night. 
“I-I’m sorry.” Soobin suddenly apologizes, he can’t look you in the eyes. You have no idea what prompted him to say such a thing.
“Why?” You ask, adjusting the blanket to cover your chest a bit more. “For what happened. It’s a little weird, don’t you think?” 
You turn away in thought. Sleeping with a stranger was nothing too new to you. You’ve had a few one night stands, they were enjoyable enough for you to not be bothered. Purely physical.
But maybe that wasn’t normal to him.
“Is this your way of telling me you gave me something?” You joke. Soobin freaks out, eyes bugged out of his face. “No! Oh God, no!” He shakes his head defensively. 
You let out a chuckle, looking up at him tiredly. “I’m joking.” He sighs, calming down and proceeding to finish getting changed. 
“Don’t take what happened last night too seriously,” You hum. “It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”
You see Soobin falter for just half a second, it’s so fast you almost think you imagined it.
He just nods and walks out the room, letting himself out.
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That was not the last time you saw Soobin. Because you soon find yourself pushed up against him in a bed time and time again. You don’t even know why you keep going back to him, you have to ask yourself this question as you lay next to him late at night. 
The sex was good, obviously. But was that really just it?
You turn your head, beside you Soobin sleeps peacefully, mouth hung wide open. His arms are strewn over both you and his bed, legs hanging over his mattress.
Could you see yourself being more than sexual partners with this man? Could you see yourself dating him? See him as a lover?
You had no real feelings of want or need to be in a relationship at the moment. There’s too much emotion involved, too much pressure and thinking. Too much vulnerability. 
You shift away from Soobin, your back facing him now. It’s colder at the edge of the bed so you have to pull the blanket up higher.
He feels you leave him, as he subconsciously scoots closer, wrapping his long arms around your torso like ropes. This time you don’t move.
You fall back asleep as you tell yourself over and over again that all of this was purely physical. Don’t get attached.
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It was supposed to be a funny little game, it was supposed to be a joke. You agreed to this, how would you have known that this would be the outcome?
You were always so careful, maybe this is some form of karma, for all your thoughts and bad decisions.
Eventually it had to catch up to you.
You sit nervously at the table, foot kicking up and down as you try to distract yourself with your cup of water. Waiting felt like forever. 
Finally you hear the ding of the front door bell, and you look up to see him. 
Soobin smiles at you. It’s stiff and awkward, but you try and smile back. He sits across from you like he’s in a business meeting. 
“Hi,” He almost whispers. “Did you want to order anything?” You ignore his greeting, gesturing to the register to your left. He looks over then returns his attention back to you. “No, I'm okay.”
You nod and observe him. Maybe it’s because when you two usually meet, you’re both naked, but Soobin seems a bit dressed up. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt and knit cardigan, paired with a nice pair of jeans. He’s wearing glasses, you didn’t know he needed them.
“Something wrong?” He suddenly asks, and you’re made aware you’ve been staring for too long. “Huh? Sorry, I- I was just thinking,” You lie.
Soobin nods and clears his throat. “So, you wanted to talk?” He reminds you. “Yeah, yeah.” You mumble. 
Yesterday you had randomly messaged him in the middle of the day, asking to meet at a little coffee shop nearby your place. It wasn’t often you asked to hang outside the bedroom. 
“About what?” Soobin’s question was one that you were dreading for the past week and a half. But hearing them in person were different than imagining them. 
Your chest tightens and your head feels dizzy. Your stomach turns uncomfortably as you struggle to speak. The words collect at your throat, stuck there as your mind grows fuzzy. 
You’d rehearsed this so many times, why was it so hard when it was the real deal?
You finally look up at Soobin, his dark eyes are surprisingly bright and warm. His expression is confused, his brows furrowed together as he tries to read you. You suddenly remember why you’re even doing this. You owe it to him.
“I’m pregnant.”
You have to look away. You’re scared to see his reaction.
“A-And I think I’m going to go through with the pregnancy.” You cough out. “Once the baby is born, I’m going to give them up for adoption.”
This was your decision. You’d thought about this over and over again, and you felt this was what you wanted to do. 
You considered not telling Soobin at all, because well, you were admittedly scared of how he’d react. This stranger you slept with, would he care if you had his baby?
In your head, you believed you could keep quiet about this, cut him off, run back home and never have to worry about seeing him ever again. But something kept tugging at your heart to tell him.
You take some courage and peek at the man across from you. You weren’t sure what you were expecting from Soobin, but the pure look of shock on his face was different than you were thinking of.
You make eye contact, and Soobin finally blinks. He looks around the coffee shop, trying to find something else to focus on. “Uh, when-when did you find this out?” He asks.
“Almost two weeks ago.” You answer. You decide to not tell him you and your friends decided to do that stupid Tik Tok challenge where everyone takes a pregnancy test.
Yours was the only one that came out positive.
Soobin only nods his head, rubbing his hands as he struggles to form a sentence. You can understand what he’s going through. That same night you found out, you locked yourself in Jimin’s bathroom and took three more tests to confirm those two little lines.
“You don’t have to be involved.” You speak up. “I just wanted to tell you.”
His head shoots up at you in a mixture of confusion and surprise. “No, no I want to be involved, yeah.” He says this with zero confidence, it does nothing to convince you.
You look outside the window. It’s no longer summer, the leaves are now brown, the sky gray and cold. The transition to autumn felt abrupt and rushed to you. 
“Okay.”
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Your interactions with Soobin after that become limited. You wonder if he’s avoiding you. Or if you’re avoiding him.
Deep down you feel as though you know the answer to that question. So you were surprised when he called to ask you to move in with him out of the blue.
“Like right now?” You ask, pressing your phone against your ear as you fold your laundry on your bed. 
“Not exactly,” Soobin sounds unsure of himself on the other side of the line. “But that way I can be of more help.” 
You set down your clothes to properly hold your phone. You’re sure what he’s saying is true. It would be nice to have someone around at home most days. Your roommate Gaeul hasn’t been too fond of your morning sickness. 
But the only thing stopping you was the fact that you would be living with a stranger.
A stranger who’d knocked you up with his baby before you even had a real proper conversation.
“Y/n? Are you still there?” Soobin asks. You hum, going back to folding your clothes. “Just think about it. It doesn’t have to be right away, we can wait a bit if you want. But maybe it’ll be better that way.”
You hum again and the two of you bid goodbye before you hang up the call.
Living with Soobin. You wonder how that would be.
Right now everything was changing: your body, your diet, your entire life. You’re sick all day, you feel like a zombie as you force yourself to go through your routine. 
You still go to class every day, though you almost always never know what’s going on with how horrible you feel. You work through your shifts gripping onto any shelf, counter or ledge in your vicinity. 
You always need to pee, your boobs are starting to hurt as they grow, forcing you to go out and buy new bras. You can barely hold a meal down without puking it all back up, you’re constantly fatigued, but no matter how much sleep you get you’re uncomfortable and restless. 
Plus, there was an upside to living with Soobin, he lived alone and his apartment was nice and spacious. You don’t know how he scored a single unit apartment the size of his by himself, but he also had a decent paying job and was the youngest of three, apparently his parents had money.
Would having Soobin around help ease any of that? You guess you’ll just have to see and find out.
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Moving day doesn’t go as planned, because of course you need to vomit your guts out in the middle of organizing your boxes.
You’re leaning onto Soobin’s toilet for dear life as you hurl your insides down the bowl. Each breath you take seems to upset your stomach more than the one before.
“Are you okay?” Soobin asks nervously as he stands by the door, head peeking out. Instead of answering him with words, you puke up your earlier lunch. 
You don’t know if he stands there the entire time, or if he’s gone off to run away, but eventually you feel your insides calm down. You take the time to rest your head against your arm, closing your eyes as you barely have the energy to do anything but breath.
Your mouth feels gross, your throat is dry and it hurts to swallow even your saliva. With whatever energy you have left, you flush the toilet and stand yourself up to rinse your mouth in the sink. As you do, you look at your reflection in the mirror. 
You look haggard. There’s no trace of the woman you were just two months ago. You suddenly feel as if you are losing yourself. You couldn’t recognize your reflection.
Tears well up in your eyes and your vision is blurred as you cry to yourself quietly. This was all wrong. This wasn’t what you wanted. You wished you’d never chosen this. You wished you’d never slept with him, that you never met him. 
You wished you were a better person.
You feel a hand tap your shoulder, and you quickly whip around and swat it away. 
And it’s like you wake up. Soobin stares at you, taken aback as he holds a water bottle. His hands are up as if to show you he has no bad intentions. He looks as innocent as a young boy.
“I brought you water.” He hiccups.
You can’t figure out why in the moment, but this act of kindness frustrates you. You wipe your tears quickly and push past him, escaping out the front door to sit in your car.
The guilt sinks in later.
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Makeup sex was for couples. And apparently for you and Soobin.
Though you weren’t sure if this was exactly that.
“S-Soobin-!” You gasp as he sucks the skin of your neck, his thrusts are much more gentle than you’re used to, yet this turns you on more.
“Hmm?” He hums, looking at you with lust-drunken eyes. As you lay on your back, arms thrown over his shoulders and legs splayed wide open for his access, you look up at the man. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. His lips are puffy from how hard he’d kissed you earlier.
“What’s wrong? You okay?” His hand instinctively goes over your tummy. This embarrasses you for some reason, turning to look away. “I’m fine.” You lie. Soobin pauses for a moment, before leaning down to kiss the side of your face, coaxing you to face him again so he can kiss you some more.
“Let’s keep going then. Let me make you feel better,” He murmurs, his voice so deep it tickles your ear just right.
You don’t argue with him.
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“You’re due in August of next year, the 5th.” Your doctor informs you as she rubs the transducer against the gel on your skin. On the screen in front of you, you can see the black and white photo of what looks like a little blob.
“Your baby is about the size of a grape. Not a lot of facial features have been formed yet at this point.” She points at the little white thing on the screen, and begins to show you exactly what is the head and where the bottom is. 
You end up turning away, you can’t handle looking for too long.
You don’t want to get attached. You told yourself this from the beginning. You are not a mother, you’re simply carrying the baby to term.
Soobin on the other hand looks both fascinated and mortified. His eyes are glued to the monitor, he keeps nodding when the doctor speaks. It almost disgusts you how eager he seems.  
After the ultrasound you’re required to do a physical exam, then some bloodwork. You wince as the nurse inserts the needle into your arm, you can feel your blood flow through your arm and up the tube to the multiple vials beside you.
“You don’t like needles?” Soobin asks. You open your eyes and find he’s moved from his seat to stand next to you. “No, who likes needles?” You ask rhetorically. He scoffs at your question.
You ignore him, maybe it was your hormones, but everything seemed to be irritating you lately. You suddenly feel lightheaded, resting your head against the hospital bed. 
A hand reaches your free arm. You look down, it’s Soobin. He’s slowly inching towards your fingers, before he clasps you in his grip, giving you a reassuring squeeze. 
You start to regret your earlier feelings, realizing you should be grateful he wanted to go with you to this appointment. You had never considered how hard it would’ve been going alone.
You give him a squeeze back, and out of embarrassment, close your eyes and turn your head. You feel Soobin pet your hair, it’s comforting.
“Just one more vial, then you’re done, okay?” He whispers to you. You nod and subconsciously lean towards him. 
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You never expected your parents to react the way they did. Your mother in tears and your father in disbelief. And in the end it wasn’t a happy moment.
You’re sitting in the passenger seat as Soobin drives you both home, the weather seems to mimic your emotion: it’s pouring rain.
You’ve been crying even before you got into the car. Your hometown was about 3 ½ hours away from your university, and you hadn’t seen your parents in months, so imagine their surprise when you arrived home with not only a boy, but his baby.
In fact, you weren’t even dating him, you were living with him and having his kid, but you weren’t dating.
You arrived at 12:30 pm just to leave an hour later. You’d planned to spend the night.
You never expected your parents to be happy. They always preached for you to get your degree and marry before settling down. You obviously ignored all of that.
But a small sliver of you thought they’d forgive you. You were their daughter after all. A parent’s love should be able to overcome such things, right?
You’ve never had the best relationship with your parents, but they've always had your back. This time they didn’t. You can still hear your mother’s sobs, they’re louder than the rainfall hitting the windshield as Soobin zooms down the freeway. 
The car suddenly slows down, and the harsh rain falls to a gentle splash. You wipe your eyes and look outside. Soobin parks at a rest stop. He turns off the ignition and unbuckles his seat.
“W-Why’re we here? Where are you going?” You hiccup, confused and anxious. “I’m grabbing us lunch, do you want to come with me? You can stay in the car if you’d like.” Soobin opens his door but doesn’t step out yet. 
You look back outside. There’s a bunch of stalls lined up, all of them have steam coming out from the piping hot food. You suddenly remember you haven’t eaten much since this morning. When you told your mom you were visiting, she excitedly informed you she would have a feast upon your arrival. You obviously didn’t eat a single bite.
You turn back to Soobin with a nod, and unbuckle your seatbelt. You open your door and step out, allowing the rain to hit your face. It’s almost refreshing. You two rush underneath the canopies, not wanting to get too wet. 
“What’re you craving? I think I'm gonna get sotteok sotteok.” He leads you to a stall. “Me too,” You decide, something spicy sounded nice. “And gukbap. And cider.” You add. Soobin laughs and nods his head, calmly ordering for the both of you. 
As you wait in line for your food, you can’t help but stare at Soobin.
This man was the father of your child, your baby daddy if you must. How does he feel about that?
You’re reminded of your mother’s screams from just earlier.
“Let’s go find somewhere to sit.” Soobin miraculously carries the tray of food in his hands, and the two of you sit down at the nearest clear table.
You two dig in, though you’re a lot slower and less vigorous than usual. You stir your soup absentmindedly, taking a sip every few seconds. You take nibbles of your sotteok skewer, and don’t even open your cider.
“Are you okay?” You usually hated hearing that question come from his mouth, but right now it felt different.
“I’m sorry.” You apologize. He looks at you with a full mouth. “If you don’t finish your food that’s fine, I can eat it.” He assumes you’re talking about your sudden lack of appetite.
“No, I mean I’m sorry about my parents.” You correct. “They said some pretty mean stuff back there to you.” You mumble.
Soobin goes quiet. He swallows his food and wipes his mouth with a napkin before speaking.
“And they said some really mean stuff to you too.” You take a big bite of your skewer to avoid talking. 
You both continue to eat in silence, that was enough of that conversation for the rest of the day.
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“Feel good?” Soobin asks, though you can’t say anything because you were currently leaning against your seat in the car while Soobin’s fingers slid in and out of you.
You’re breathy, panting as you reach up and behind to grip the seat head for stability. You feel a bit exposed as you were still parked in the parking lot of the rest stop. Soobin had moved you guys to a far off corner away from the rest of the cars. 
The windows are foggy, the radio plays softly, though they’re drowned out by your moans. You’re too aroused to care if people can see you.
Soobin leans over the console box, enrapturing you in a tongue twisting kiss. Your hand finds its way to his hair, running though his locks as he speeds up his pace. 
His long veiny hands, his fingers are thicker and rougher than your own, it’s like they reach all the right spots. He’s curling, digging inside your gummy walls, trying to reach deeper and deeper.
Your breath hitches as you feel your orgasm approaching, your head is spinning from your high. Soobin pulls away from you, your lips are strung together by a single line of saliva. 
You look at him dazed, a look of lust.
Soobin continues to stare at you, his thumb coming to rest against your clit as he shoves his index and middle finger in your sopping pussy.
Maybe it was the direct and intense eye contact, or the adrenaline of being caught, but you come with so much passion you have to grip onto the door in order to ground yourself.
Your walls clench and convulse around Soobin’s thick fingers as he slowly pulls out, your cum leaves them glazed. As you try to catch your breath, you watch him stick his fingers inside his mouth, he sucks them decadently. 
Finally, he wipes your mouth with his thumb, licking it clean. This man knew how to push your buttons in all the right ways.
“Let’s go home,” He announces, starting the car again and putting the car in drive.
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When your second trimester rolls around, it’s as if your morning sickness magically disappears. You can stomach just about anything now, in fact your appetite has grown.
Your bump is slowly coming in, it’s still small enough where you can see your toes. But you no longer fit any of your jeans, and have opted to wear sweatpants 24/7 as it’s the only thing that fits you. 
“These are kinda cute,” Minjeong holds up a pair of maternity chinos. “Jesus Minjeong, she’s trying to look like Rihanna, not a fucking politician.” Ningning swipes the chinos and hangs them back on the rack. Your friend sulks and takes solace by your side.
“Did you think they were cute?” She asks you. You pout and shake your head. “Sorry. I didn’t even like the color.” Minjeong’s frown deepens. “Hey!” Aeri shouts, waving you down. “Look at these jeans! They’re cute and baggy,” She shows you a pair of medium wash jeans. 
The legs are nice and wide, and not too long where you’d be tripping over them. “I can try them on,” You agree. She happily puts them into the cart. 
“I found this cute maxi skirt, do you like it?” Jimin saunters over and presents the flowy white skirt. “Oh this is totally giving Rihanna in the Bahamas vibe, you have to get it.” Ningning answers for you. You laugh and nod for her to add it to the cart. “I’ll try it on.” 
You guys pile on a few more articles of clothing before heading to the fitting room where you proceed to have a tiny fashion show for all your friends. 
“I kind of like that one!” Jimin nods as you try on a cardigan. “No, she looks frumpy, don’t get it.” Ningning is brutally honest.
“I think you should definitely get the skirt, the jeans, the overalls, the two tops we liked, and at least get the dress, it was totally a skims dupe!” Aeri says as you head back into the fitting room to change into your clothes.
“I like the sweater,” Minjeong reminds them. “Oh that one was cute, yeah, especially now that it’s starting to get cold outside.” Jimin agrees.
You step back out, grabbing the clothes you liked in one arm and the ones you didn’t in the other. “Let me help you,” Jimin grabs the no pile and hands it to the employee up front. 
“I liked them all, “ You admit. You haven’t gone shopping in a while, you were much too busy and anxious during your first trimester. 
Because of that you also didn’t spend a lot of time with your friends. You found it hard to be around them and not feel sick or uncomfortable.
But now you were getting back into your groove, and they seemed to notice it too, it reminded you of old times. 
“The total is going to be $223.47.” The cashier announces, and suddenly it’s like your morning sickness has manifested itself.
“Maternity clothes are that expensive?! We’re literally at Target!” Minjeong squeaks not so subtly to you and the others. 
“We could all pay together, maybe-” “No it’s fine,” You cut off Jimin. “I’ll just get the jeans and the one top please.” You tell the cashier, and he removes the other items.
“Y/n, what the hell?!” Ningning glares at you. “I can get more next time,” You tell her. “I just need something right now, I’ll get bigger anyways, I don’t want to get one size just to outgrow it again in a few weeks.” You argue. Your friends sigh and try not to say anything as you pay. 
But as you all walk back to Aeri’s car, you feel a bit ashamed.
No wonder your parents were so angry, you’re too young, too financially unstable to be with a child. You could barely afford a pair of jeans and a shirt, that you’ll probably discard once all of this is over.
You look down at your growing belly, you still find it hard to believe there’s a baby growing in there, despite you being actual living breathing proof.
At least you won’t have to constantly buy diapers and formula, you think to yourself as you get in the car.
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“What do you mean you’re cutting my hours?” You ask your boss, staring him straight in the eyes. He sighs, grimacing at you from his seat. 
“You’ve been constantly calling out or you will leave early from all your shifts. You are not here when we need coverage, I can’t keep scheduling you if you’re not going to be here.” He decides.
You actually scoff at him in disbelief. “I wasn’t here because I’m pregnant. I’ve been physically vomiting any food that enters my body. I was losing bodily fluids more than I can intake, I was sore all over, I had little energy. I couldn’t help that I wasn’t here.” You argue, your anger fueling your adrenaline.
“I get that, I do Y/n- but I can’t keep giving you-” “But I’m here now, I’m better now!” You cut him off. “My morning sickness is gone, I don’t have a lot of nausea. I can still do my job.” 
Your boss sighs again, leans back into his chair as his lips go thin. “I have employees who are hard workers and need the hours. I’m required by store policy to give them hours as they are eligible.”
You sit in your chair, and it starts to seep in that no matter what you do, no one is listening. 
Then your boss says something to you that almost breaks you.
“Y/n, I’m doing this to protect you. Don’t you want to be able to rest more and stay at home?”
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“Should we get orange juice or apple juice?” Soobin asks you as you two stand in the refrigerated section of the grocery store.
“Apple. We don’t like orange juice, it’s too tangy.” You grimace and grab the gallon from the shelf. 
When you place the juice into the shopping cart, you realize Soobin has been staring at you like you’ve grown horns out of your head. “What?”
“We?” He repeats, pointing to himself. You suddenly realize what he’s asking, and laugh. “No, we.” You gesture to your growing stomach, you meant the baby.
“Oh,” He seems embarrassed as it finally clicks to him on what you meant. “I was gonna say, I prefer orange juice.”
“We can get that next time,” You let him push the cart as you guys slowly pick up more groceries for the week.
Some meat (no pork, not after you’d gotten sick from throwing up breakfast sausage three weeks ago), vegetables, fruits (you liked to freeze some of them to make an icy snack), and of course ice cream.
“Same as usual?” Soobin asks and you eagerly nod, allowing him to open the freezer door and fish for your favorite flavor at the back of the top shelf, perks of having a tall baby daddy you think.
“Two Half-Baked ice creams from Ben & Jerry’s, pint sized.” He sets the tubs of ice cream into the filled cart in a grandiose manner, you applaud him.
“You’re a Godsend.” You sigh happily. A skip in your step as you guys finally make your way back to the cash registers to check out.
But half way there, something catches your eye. You pause, no longer following Soobin down the main aisle. 
You make a detour at the baby section.
Your attention has been swiped by an adorable little onesie, decorated with a drawing of a smiling sun and a couple of blue birds. Three birds to be precise, a mom, a dad and a baby bird.
You grab the foot of the onesie, it’s smaller than your palm. How can something be so little-
“Y/n?” You whip around. Soobin stands in front of you. He watched you.
“I was just looking.” You explain, dropping your hand from the onesie entirely. He nods, though his gaze is trained on where your fingers once were. 
“Okay,” He clears his throat and looks away. “I think they’re having a sale on the pastries, mind if I grab some?” You quickly shake your head, and Soobin runs off to the bakery section.
Once he’s out of sight, you return your attention back to the onesie. It’s fallen off the hanger, it’s laying on the floor.
Quietly, you pick it up and place it back on its hanger, putting it on its rack. You read the tag, the size was for newborns. 
You walk back to the cart and begin to walk slowly to the line for the registers. “The croissants were half off.” Soobin shows you as he meets you again. You smile and nod. 
Were babies really that tiny when they’re born? A small part of you wants to know.
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You wake up to the smell of something sweet. That’s unusual.
You sit up, scratching your belly as you walk out the bedroom and into the kitchen, where you find Soobin preparing what you hope is breakfast.
“What’re you doing?” You ask, eyeing him. Usually you were the cook in the household, Soobin was a mess in the kitchen, most of his meals came out inedible.
He jumps at your voice, not noticing you were peeking over his shoulder. “You scared me!” He yelps and you smile. He must have been really focused.
You look at the pile of pancakes he has stacked on a plate, they look messy, but good. “I made you breakfast. The doctor said you have to watch what you eat, remember?”
He was right, just yesterday you two went in for a visit. Your doctor made it very clear that you needed to be eating healthy if you wanted the baby to be born healthy and to have an easy delivery. You needed to watch your sugar intake in case you developed gestational diabetes, common in pregnancy.
“You made all of this for me?” You question, still in disbelief that Soobin, a man who favored sleep over most, would wake up early to make breakfast.
“Well,” Soobin shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “For you, and for him.” He points and you look down at your bulging belly.
Yesterday you found out the gender of your baby. You were having a boy. A baby boy.
You unconsciously run a hand over your stomach, it’s warm, the skin smooth. You were going to have a son. 
Your heart skips a beat, and you have to physically pinch yourself back to reality.
“Thank you,” You try not to seem too happy. “Yeah,” Soobin seems to follow suit. “Here, I made you a plate already, I also got sugar-free syrup.” He drizzles some over your stack before placing the plate in front of you. 
You carefully take your fork and chop yourself a bite, surprised at the burst of flavor and how not burnt it tasted.
“Are there blueberries in here?” You ask inquisitively. Soobin seems delighted you realized. “Yes!” He grins. “I thought plain wheat pancakes would be boring, so I added some blueberries. They’re good right?”
“They’re delicious,” You hum, taking another bite. You must have been enjoying the pancakes too much, because you suddenly feel a fluttering feeling in your stomach, almost as if-
You suddenly drop your fork, it clatters onto the floor and Soobin spins around. “What? Does it taste bad now?” He’s so confused as you look up at him for your seat with wide, shocked eyes. 
“I-I think- I think he moved.” You point to your tummy, and you look down as if to confirm what you felt.
“What?” Soobin also is surprised he suddenly is on his knees, crouched down to match the level of your stomach, placing a gentle hand on top.
You two wait in silence, waiting patiently only for nothing to happen. Were you wrong?
“Maybe he’s shy, we’re putting him on the spot,” Soobin jokes, though you notice the sad look in his eyes. You suddenly get an idea.
“Hold on,” You say, and direct Soobin to lean in and press his head against your belly, allowing him to hear and feel intensely. “Keep your hand here,” You instruct. He listens obediently.
You go back to your plate of pancakes, using your finger you rip off a piece and begin to eat again. You chew, swallow, and wait one more time. It’s so quiet in the apartment, you could hear a pin drop.
Then it happens. That fluttery feeling again. It’s like a tickle on the inside. But the second it happens you and Soobin gasp, looking at each other with pure joy.
“He moved, oh my God he moved!” Soobin laughs with joy. “He moved!” You repeat. “He moved, he moved. God, he moved.” Soobin rubs his hand over your stomach excitedly as you giggle.
You two stay like this for a moment, before you make eye contact once more, and it serves as a reminder of the reality of the situation. Your chuckles die down, and Soobin stands back up, going back to the kitchen counter to finish and clean up the mess he’d made. You turn back to your food at the table.
“It almost felt like we were dating there for a second.” You try to make a joke.
Soobin is quiet for a moment, you can hear him flipping a few new pancakes on the stove.
“But we’re not, right?” He says flatly.
You decide to not answer that as if it wasn’t already obvious. 
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“Oh!” The sonographer gasps, she wears a bright smile as she turns to you excitedly. “You can see his hand, it’s like he’s saying hi!” 
She moves the transducer around and points to the screen. And just like she says, right there is a tiny hand, all five fingers spread out as if waving out to you. Each finger is thin and long, the palm round and sturdy looking. 
Soobin leans forward and presses his index finger where the little hand lays on the screen. The entire pad of his finger is bigger than the hand alone.
Your heart clenches. How odd, you almost can feel your baby’s little hand wrap around Soobin’s finger, a fragile yet tight grip.
“How precious,” The sonographer grins, and Soobin pulls away. You notice his attention has shifted from the screen to his index finger.
“Dad, looks like he’s got your nose.” The sonographer suddenly says, and you both jolt, heads whipping around to the screen once more. You can see the side profile of the infant.
“And mom, I think the baby's got your lips, he’s going to be so handsome!” You’ve never been called mom before. No one has called you a mother, or regarded you as one, not your friends, coworkers, hell not even Soobin.
It’s strange to hear, it makes your heart rate speed up.
You never really considered that your baby would, well, look like you. Sure you knew that the baby growing inside you was yours, but you never took the time to imagine how he would look like, what he’d sound like, what his name-
You have to stop yourself from overthinking.
You weren’t a mom. You weren’t supposed to name him. You shouldn’t care about how he looks or how he’s sound. 
You shouldn’t care about any of this, all of this was temporary anyways, right?
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It’s 3 am in the morning and you’re trudging yourself to the bathroom because your bladder is crying to be released.
You rub your eyes, the bright light of the bathroom blinds you. You sit on the toilet and yawn. As you finish, you wash your hands with your eyes still closed. 
You were exhausted, no matter how much you slept, you were never comfortable enough to fully get a good rest.
You’re about to turn off the lights and leave, when you catch your reflection. You’re wearing nothing but a camisole (which has ridden up over your growing belly) and your panties. 
Despite it being November, you run warm now that you’re growing a baby. Wearing too many layers has you sweating like a pig at night.
Funny enough, Soobin is always cold, he naturally drifts towards you in his sleep, his icy hands resting against your hot skin. 
You turn to the side, and you’re surprised how big you’ve gotten. You’re almost proud.
You shake your head. You need to stop acting like this. You have nothing to be proud of, nothing to think about. You just need to go to sleep and mind your business-
Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a kick from your stomach. You look down, perplexed. Do babies read minds? 
You doubt that, but that seemed like too much of a coincidence for you to let it pass. You rub your hands over your bare belly, almost as if you’re apologizing.
Why do you feel guilty?
You swallow thickly and turn off the lights, leaving the bathroom to go back to bed. You enter the bedroom and see Soobin has taken your spot in bed, probably trying to find warmth in whatever was left from your body heat moments ago.
Nudging him, you slip back under the covers, letting him cuddle into your side, seeking your heat.
You naturally reach up to run a hand through his hair, it’s soft and fluffy and smells like fresh santal. 
Sometimes you envy Soobin.
For many things: like not having to deal with abnormal changes to his body, he doesn’t gag or feel sick by certain scents or foods, hang with friends without the stares, have a job that pays and schedules him fairly, loved by his parents no matter what he does.
You feel as if you suffer so much, just for him to continue a life of pleasure.
But as you lay together in bed, you’re reminded that you’re not the only one whose life has changed drastically this past year.
Soobin has had a stranger move into his home, puke her guts everyday inside his toilet for months, pays the rent for both of them, helps her stay caught up with schoolwork, goes with her to every doctor’s appointment, buys her all her weird cravings, cooks her food despite his challenges in the kitchen.
He runs her a bath when she’s too tired to shower, brushes her hair while she eats ice cream on the couch, pleases her sexual needs before his, he comforts her whenever she cries, even if it’s over the littlest thing like her struggling to put on her socks.
You cradle Soobin’s face in your hands. You hope your son looks like him. An innocent newborn shouldn’t look like someone as guilty as you.
You push Soobin away, turning the other direction. How could a horrible person like yourself be with a person who is giving and humble like Soobin?
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“Merry Christmas!” Soobin’s mom is overjoyed to see you two at her front door. She immediately pulls you both into a bear hug. 
“Hi mom,” Soobin smiles. His mother pulls him down for a kiss on the cheek. “Have you been eating well? Sleeping well?” She asks him. He nods obediently. His mom turns her attention to you. 
“Y/n! I’m so happy to see you again.” She grins and without warning pulls you into another hug, petting your hair. 
“Me too,” You giggle nervously. You liked Soobin’s mom, you two previously met months prior when Soobin revealed to his parents you two were expecting a child. She was an incredibly sweet woman.
“How are you? Healthy? How is my grandbaby?” She leans down to cup your stomach, already baby talking to your unborn son. You try to relax and act normal, but your eyes flit over to Soobin, who tries to hide his grim expression.
Soobin has yet to inform his parents on your decision of adoption.
“Oh, come in come in! You two are probably cold! It’s freezing out there, snowing down a storm.” His mom ushers you both inside, allowing you two to remove your coats and shoes before entering. 
“Everyone’s here already, your sister-” “UNCLE SOOBIN!” A voice interrupts and you hear the sound of tiny feet running quickly. You look up and find a little boy running full speed towards you two. 
“Dokyung!” Soobin bends down, arms wide open as he catches the boy in a strong hug. The boy laughs loudly as Soobin tickles him.
Soobin stands back up, carrying the toddler in his arms as he faces you. “Dokyung, this is Y/n,” He introduces you. You give the boy a soft smile and wave your hand. “Hi Dokyung, nice to meet you,” 
He stares at you expressionless and you stare back. He looks so much like Soobin, like twins. You feel like you’re seeing double.
Not only that, but Soobin holds him so naturally, as if he were made to carry him, to raise a child. Dokyung looks comfortable as he lays in Soobin’s arms. It does something to your brain.
“Why is your tummy so big?” Dokyung suddenly asks, leaning down from Soobin’s grasp to pat you. You’re taken aback by his brash question, but what can you expect from an innocent child?
You find his curiosity endearing, and end up laughing. “There’s a baby inside, I’m pregnant.” You explain, rubbing a hand over your stomach as if to show.
Dokyung blinks at you. “Why?”
You blink back. How were you supposed to answer that?
“It’s almost time for dinner, are you hungry Dokyung? Grandma said she made lots of food for us,” Soobin jumps in and changes the subject. 
“No I want a cookie, mommy said I can eat a cookie because it’s Christmas!” Dokyung squirms out of Soobin’s arms, and drags him further into the house.
“He’s cute, isn't he? Dokyung is Soobin’s older sister’s son,” You almost forget Soobin’s mother has been here the entire time.
“Yeah, he’s funny,” You smile as you follow her to the living area. “We’re all so excited to have you join us this year for Christmas. And with an even newer member joining next year! Dokyung will be overjoyed to play with his new cousin!” She chuckles and you falter in your step.
You almost resent her for even mentioning that to you, but you can’t find it in your heart to do so.
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“Happy New Year,” Soobin mumbles as you return from a midnight bathroom run. “Hmm?” You hum, unsure you heard him right.
“Happy New Year,” He repeats, his voice gruff as he sits up, leaning against the headboard. He looks good.
You crawl into the bed, but instead of going back to sleep, you decide to sit up in front of Soobin. 
He stares at you, eyes tired, while you’re practically wide awake.
You brush his hair out of his eyes, gently dragging your hands down to cup his cheeks. You lean in and give him a soft kiss . Your tongue licks his lips, asking for permission to enter. He grants it.
His own hands travel up your sides and to your neck, almost directing you how to kiss him.
You moan into his mouth, unable to control your reactions around him. You lean against his chest, you can feel his heart beating fast, it excites you.
Suddenly you pull away and Soobin looks at you dazed and confused. You pull him to the edge of the bed, already tugging at the band of his sweats. He complies, you two don’t have to speak to know what the other wants. 
Soobin is already halfway hard, but you can feel him thicken up as you drag your tongue across his length.
He holds your hair back and away from your face as you suck him off, you’re gentle and teasing tonight. In that dark room you look up at him with sincerity, you want to show him how grateful you are.
Your tongue swivels around the head of his cock, your cheeks hollowed out as Soobin throws his head back as he cums, you drink up every last drop until he’s begging you to stop.
He falls back onto the mattress, you crawl up next to him into his arms. You press a kiss to his cheek and whisper:
“Happy New Year,”
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‘sorry not feeling good gonna stay in tonight :(‘
You press send and within seconds you see bubbles pop up, your friends giving you their best wishes, hoping you will recover soon so you can join them next time.
But you’re actually fine. But you don’t want them to know that.
You toss your phone onto the counter, and practically skip to the couch, giggling like a giddy child. 
“I can’t believe you’ve never watched The Princess Bride, it’s a classic!” You squeal as you lay on the couch, Soobin sits on the other side, letting you rest your feet on his thighs.
“Is it? I’ve never even heard of it,” He shrugs. You gasp and gawk at him, making him crack up. “Is that bad? Stop looking at me like that!” He points at you accusingly.
“I don’t want to hear a word from you until we’ve finished the entire thing, okay?” You prompt. He jokingly nods, and pretends to zip up his mouth and lock it with a ‘key’. You playfully take the ‘key’ and tuck it into your pocket. “Okay press play!”
As you predicted, Soobin is entranced by the movie as soon as it begins. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye every half hour or so, and his eyes are glued to the screen. 
You find it silly how easy he is to read, his expressions give him away so easily. The way his mouth is gaping wide open in shock, how loud he laughs when he finds something funny. You especially like the way his lips pout when he’s paying extra attention to the movie.
Eventually, Soobin has wiggled his way to your side, you both sharing the throw blanket. 
For some reason you can’t keep your eyes off Soobin. Even if your head is turned to the TV, your gaze falls to the man beside you.
Soobin abruptly turns to you, giving you a quizzing look. “What’s up?” He whispers, eyes flickering back to the TV then back to you. You shake your head and yawn. 
“Nothing.” You lie, and lean against his shoulder, deciding to close your eyes for just a moment. 
You feel Soobin gently resting his cheek against your head, and you fall asleep to dream land.
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You feel as if you can’t breathe. Not because Soobin’s mom tied your hanbok a little too tight, but because you were currently sitting beside her son, posing for their annual family photo.
Soobin’s sister is holding Dokyung in her lap, her husband to her left. Soobin’s older brother is with his girlfriend, in matching hanbok. 
“Okay, everyone hold still! Honey, go press the button,” Soobin’s mom ushers her husband, and the older man steps out form his place to run and press the camera button on the propped up phone. He hurries back to stand beside his wife.
You put on your best smile, a hand resting atop your belly and the other in Soobin’s. Your h hand is sweaty and damp. You hear the phone click, and there's a bright flash. You blink as your smile falls, feeling dazed. 
“Hold on! No one move yet! Let me check to see if it’s good!” Soobin’s father calls out, and everyone remains in their spots. 
“Oh Dokyung!” The old man laughs. “No silly faces yet, just smile!” He chuckles. Dokyung’s mother giggles and fixes his hair as the toddler seems to find the situation silly. “One more time, smile everyone.” 
He runs back to his wife’s side and you all smile in silence once again. The camera clicks, there’s a flash, and you feel even more tired than before. 
“Perfect!” Soobin’s dad cheers, and Dokyung takes it as a sign to run off. As his parents chase after him, you let out a sigh you had no idea you were holding. 
“What’s wrong? Are you feeling alright?” Soobin helps you stand, and you fake a smile, fanning yourself. “Just need some air, I’m going to step out for a bit, I’m stuffy,” You tell him, letting go of his hand to head towards the front door.
You quietly make your leave, slipping on your outside shoes as you step out onto the small porch. You sit down on the steps, the air is brisk and cold, it feels like you’ve swallowed something minty with every breath.
It’s dark outside, the clouds cover most of the sky and it looks like it might snow again. Behind you, the bright and warm light of the house is contrasting. It’s full of life and love. You can hear Soobin’s family all happily conversing and every once in a while Dokyung's laughter.
As you sit and listen, admiring the peaceful outside, you hear the door open. You bet it’s Soobin here to check on you. 
But you’re surprised when the person grunts as they sit down beside you, looking up at the dark sky.
“If you stay out here for too long, you’ll get sick.” Soobin’s older sister lectures you with a soft tone. You turn to her, confused why she of all people is talking to you.
When you two first met during Christmas, she kept everything cordial and short, you two barely held a conversation alone, almost always someone else was involved. Not to mention half the time you were playing with her son.
“I was about to head back inside,” You lie. She takes a deep breath and nods, still not looking at you. You decide to turn your attention back to the scenery in front of you. You two sit there in awkward silence for a couple more minutes before she finds the courage to speak up again.
“Soobin told me what you plan to do after this.” You pause. She’s talking about after birth. “Yeah,” You cough out.
She finally looks at you, and you look at her. You originally thought the two siblings look nothing alike, but facing her now you can see the resemblance. No wonder Dokyung looked so much like Soobin. 
“Why are you doing all of this? Are you trying to hurt him more?” Her tongue is sharp and unrelenting, it throws you off guard.
“What?” You squeak out, flabbergasted by how upfront she was. Soobin’s sister drops the facade, the way she clenches her jaw you can tell she’s stressed.
“Why go through with the pregnancy? Why involve my brother? Why are you even here at our Seollal celebration? Why are you lying to my parents? Why are you doing any of this?” Each question feels like a knife piercing your heart. You feel as if you can’t breathe.
Out of fear you whip your head around, eyes focused on the cold concrete ground. Soobin’s sister waits for you to answer, she sits patiently.
Why were you doing this? You’ve never asked yourself this question, whether it be because you don’t know the answer, or because you do know and are scared to admit you do. Either way you have no way of explaining yourself.
“If you’re just going to give up on this child, there’s no reason to get my family involved.” She argues. “All you’re doing is making everyone around you suffer. My brother doesn’t deserve to have someone as selfish as you control him like a puppet. He’s his own person, let him make his own decisions.”
“I don’t know what you did to entrance him, but my brother is naive and genuine. He’s known nothing but love from the people around him. How could you force him into this when he’s obviously not ready? You’re not ready, that’s why you’re giving the baby up, right?” She taunts you. 
“I hate how you have my parents believing in this faux relationship you two have. Do you know how happy my mom was when Soobin told her about you? Her children are her treasures, imagine how she’ll feel when she finds out her youngest son was taken advantage of by an immature, irresponsible girl like yourself. You should be ashamed.”
Her words cut deeper and deeper into your already low ego, and you don’t realize you’ve been crying until you let out a sniffle.
“I-I’m sorry,” You choke out. Soobin’s sister stays quiet this time as you break down in front of her.
“I don’t know, I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You repeat over and over again. Deep down you know that no matter what you say, she won’t believe a word you say. You’ve already broken her trust even before meeting her, how do you expect to gain it back?
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sor-” 
“Sis, what the hell?!” You jump at the sound of Soobin’s voice, he sounds furious. 
“Don’t you yell at me! Someone needed to talk some sense into her-” “And why do you think you’re the right person to do so?! You have no right to do any of this!” Soobin steps in front of you as his sister takes her stand. 
“Soobin, I’m doing this for you, for us-” He cuts her off with a scoff. “Sis, I’m not a child anymore. I can take care of myself. This is my business, not yours.”
You’re wiping your tears as you watch the two siblings fight. Soobin’s sister may be older, but he towers over her. She glares up at him, then at you.
“Look what she’s done to you. You’ve never acted like this before. You’re letting her lead your life.” She jabs a finger in your direction.
“No she’s not. Leave her out of this. If you have something to say, you say it to me and only me.” Soobin is stern. Why was he doing all of this?
His sister looks bewildered how her younger brother could ever utter such a thing to her face. She opens her mouth to speak again when the front door opens once more. 
“What’s all this noise? Dinner's almost ready, it’s time to come inside,” It’s Soobin’s mother. Her eyes first land on her two children, taking in their angry expressions. Then her gaze falls to you, hiding behind Soobin with tears in your eyes.
“Dear, why are you crying?” She asks, stretching out hand for you to take. You don’t move, not that you could anyways, because Soobin’s sister begins to yell again.
“Mom, no!” She hisses. “Do you even know who she really is?! She’s using Soobin!” The man mentioned sneers at his sister. “Will you shut up?”
That little insult lights a fire within his sister. She tears away from her brother, and instead confronts their mother. 
“Mother, you need to listen to me. Soobin and Y/n aren’t dating. They aren’t keeping the baby. That woman is going to give the baby up for adoption because she’s a selfish brat who wants to go back to partying and being lazy.” She’s almost begging, grabbing the older woman’s hands and holding them between her own. 
Soobin’s mom is rightfully shocked by this information, her face says it all. She looks at her son, who stands defeated. She turns to you again, and you wish you had turned away because there’s betrayal written in her eyes. 
“Y/n, is this true? Soobin?” She switches between you both, searching for answers. You look to Soobin, waiting for a sign, something, anything.
“See? Mom, you believe me right?” Soobin’s sister almost sounds proud of this. You then realize that Soobin can’t tell his mom, and you suddenly realize his sister was right all along.
You let out a huff and stand up. All eyes are on you.
“Yes ma’am, it’s true. I’m considering giving up the baby for adoption.” You feel as if you’re trying to swallow a lump in your throat as you speak. “Soobin and I have already discussed this. We think this is the best option. I’m really sorry for deceiving you.”
And then it’s like the world goes silent. Like you’ve been drowning and you’re falling deeper and deeper underwater. You’ve fallen so deep, the sound of the world disappears.
What happens next is a blur. You don’t remember much other than Soobin taking your hand, grabbing your belongings and dragging you to his car for a long, tense drive home.
You feel relieved.
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For some reason you sound distorted, but it doesn’t seem to bother your son. 
You’re singing him to sleep, he’s swaddled in a blanket, but you can’t seem to make out his face. 
You walk around the kitchen, patting his back, gently moving back and forth in hopes of soothing him. The second you stop he begins to cry a loud scream of terror. You’re panicking, you don’t know what to do.
Where the hell was Soobin? He should be here, this was his baby too.
You’re searching the apartment, trying to be a good mother while searching for the man in question, but he’s nowhere to be found.
You try to call out for him, but you have no voice. There’s no sound. None at all. It’s so quiet something feels wrong. 
You realize you’re empty handed. Your son is gone, missing. The panic begins to settle in quickly. 
You’re spinning around, you’re no longer in the apartment, but your local grocery store. It’s crowded, everyone seems to be getting in your way as you try to move. 
You try to stop someone, anyone. You need help, your baby is gone, your son, someone took him, you’re sure of it.
Someone kidnapped your baby boy.
Why was no one worried, why was no one helping you?! It was like you were all alone in this. 
As you begin to hyperventilate, you spot a familiar figure.
Soobin. You run towards him but it’s like you’re moving through water, slow and frustrating. You try to shout at him, but you forget you can’t make any noise.
So you run and run, but Soobin is getting farther and farther. And even worse, you’ve realized it’s him with your son.
His large back taunts you as he cradles the infant, walking a mile with each step he takes. 
You eventually fall and give up. You’re all alone out there, and not a single soul seems to care.
You wake up with tears rolling down your cheeks, and Soobin shaking you awake. 
“Y/n, wake up,” He sounds worried. You blink your eyes open and quickly wipe your eyes with the back of your hands. 
“Are you okay? You were crying in your sleep,” Soobin asks. You ignore him and stand up, speeding to the bathroom. 
“Y/n,” He’s following you, but somehow you evade him, running inside the bathroom and locking it. 
“Y/n? Y/n. Y/n open the door please,” Soobin knocks. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 
How can he say something like that to you? You hate hearing him say such nice things. You wish he’d never said yes to you. You wish he never asked you to move in, you wished he never treated you well.
You sit on top of the toilet, trying your best to cry quietly, because you know you’d be worrying him more if he can hear you.
Soobin is still talking to you through the door.
You’re wiping your eyes with toilet paper when you feel your stomach flip flop and you stop breathing.
Your hands ghost over your belly, as if it would disappear if you touched it. You’re actually a bit relieved. 
Your son was right here with you.
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In April, you’re shopping for yourself when you are stopped by someone you wish you hadn’t run into.
You were looking at shoes. Now that you were getting closer and closer to birth, your body was changing more rapidly. Your old sneakers and boots no longer fit your feet without your ankles being strangled.
With what little money your job gave you, you planned on getting the most comfortable pair of slip-on shoes.
“Excuse me, do you have these in a size-” “Y/n?” Your conversation with the employee is interrupted by a familiar voice that has shivers running down your spine.
You pause, not wanting to turn your head. Maybe you could pretend you didn’t hear, that you were not Y/n, and they would leave you alone.
But this person is relentless. You can hear them approach you as you try to talk to the employee again. 
“It is you. Y/n, it’s me, Yeji.”
Hwang Yeji, your ex best friend from high school. You guys never really had a falling out, you just went to different universities. You later found out two years ago that she was talking shit about you to make herself look better to her new uni friends after you reunited at a party.
You turn around and put on your bravest smile. “Oh, Yeji, hey,” Maybe it’s because you’re nervous that you begin to hug your stomach.
You see Yeji’s eyes wander down, then back up at you. Shelooks stunned. You don’t blame her.
“Oh my god. Congratulations!” She puts on a fake smile and goes in for a hug, you put up a hand to stop her. “Thanks. You look good.”
“You look good too!” Yeji laughs, though you know she’s probably rolling around with excitement on the inside.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long!” She squeals, grabbing your hands as if to hold you down. “I’m fine, I actually-“
“We need to get lunch and catch up, are you busy right now? Do you have time? I know a really good kalguksu place nearby here, the owners love me! My boyfriend and I are their favorite customers. You remember my boyfriend Jeno, right?”
Of course you remember Jeno, was she dumb? He was the boy you grew up with, your childhood crush since you were 10. Yeji knew you liked Jeno back when you were younger, yet she still went to date him. You hear they’re pretty on and off now.
“Yeah, I do-“ “Great! I'm actually shopping with him right now, I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you too! You can invite your boyfriend too,” She assumes. “Unless you’re alone?” She flashes you a malevolent smile, and you’re reminded of the hell she put you through just years before.
It’s then that you’re grateful Soobin insisted on joining you, because he arrives just on time to save you.
“Y/n! These shoes look nice and comfortable-” He stops abruptly when he notices Yeji. He approaches you slowly, and is even more taken aback when you yank your hands from her and practically hug him.
“Uh, Hello,” He awkwardly bows, looking between you and Yeji as if unsure what to do. You turn back to Yeji. “Sorry, I am busy actually. My boyfriend and I still have some shopping to do for our baby.” You smile sheepishly. 
“I just love being a mom, you know? I can’t wait to give birth and have more of his kids, because we’re so so in love with each other, isn’t that right babe? Anyways see you Yeji, tell Jeno I said hi!” You say before dragging Soobin away.
You two barge out of the store, leaving the woman in shock. “Who was that?” He asks in a hushed tone, he keeps turning back to get a glimpse of your ex best friend. 
You have to grab his arm and pull him down the street, trying your best to not seem embarrassed or angry as you storm off. 
“No one important,” You huff. You can tell Soobin is staring at you again as you finally let go of him to walk ahead. 
You end up slowing down, running out of breath faster than you can imagine. Soobin stops as you rest against a wall.
“So I’m your boyfriend when it’s convenient for you? Is that all I am to you?” Despite his harsh words, he sounds more confused than anything.
You look up at him, trying to find the right words, because you didn’t want to admit that you wished everything you said to Yeji was true.
“It was just a lie. She was getting on my nerves.” You spit out. Soobin sighs, running a hand through his hair, leaving it a mess. He looks irritated, all because of you.
“I’m sorry,” You apologize, trying to show your sincerity through your eyes. Soobin does nothing but look at you, his silence louder than any words he could have said.
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You weren’t dating, but you two fucked like you were. That was 100% true.
You’re laying on your back as Soobin laps at your puffy cunt like he’s a starved man.
With every flick of his tongue you let out a whimper, Soobin temporarily stops grabbing you by the jaw. He turns you towards him, allowing him to have access to your pretty lips. He kisses you like his life depends on it, biting and licking your lips.
You’re out of breath, feeling winded and tired, yet you can’t help but move your hips closer and closer to him. This connection between you two was carnivorous, and you wished to be devoured.
“You’re such a fucking slut,” Soobin growls at you, as if he hadn’t just sucked the life out of you while he pumped his fingers in and out of your dripping hole. You only moan, craving him to move and give you that sweet, sweet release. 
Every part of him, his face, his chest, his arms, his fingers, his thighs, his cock, you love it all. You love how he spreads you open in all the right ways, how he's both rough and gentle with you. How he knows what gets you off, the amount of control you trust him to have over you and your body.
“You want more baby?” He asks, his tone switching to something softer as you grind yourself against his hand. You nod, desperate. He does as he’s told, and goes back, holding your legs wide open as he slurps you up. 
Your hands find their way to his head, groping his hair as you push him further into you. You can feel your stomach coil up, your breath hitching. You try to find some stability, gripping the bed sheets, Soobin’s hair, anything to keep your sanity. 
Your orgasm crashes into you, wiping you out completely. As you come down from your high, your body relaxes, losing all energy. Soobin drags himself up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He looks down at you like the prey you are. You’re unaware of what’s to come next, your eyes are closed. 
You feel the bed dip and hear it creek as Soobin joins you. Your eyes shoot open as you feel him rub his tip against your entrance. You’re met with a lustful man, his eyes droopy as he cages you beneath him. 
“Wanna give me one more, please?” He’s so polite, you answer with a simple nod. Soobin smiles, and with a single swift movement, enters your already throbbing pussy.
You hear him whine, something about how tight you felt, but you can’t concentrate. You feel as if you’re seeing stars from just trying to adjust to his size.
Soobin takes no time to start moving, his thrusts are deep and consistent, a rhythm you’ve come to recognize. You pout at him from your position, craving more of his touch. You lift your arms up, asking him to hold you. 
He does more than just hold you, Soobin consumes you. His body wraps itself around you, he becomes all you can see, hear, and smell. Your senses are flooded with him.
He’s like a drug you think, the way he stimulates you, heightens all of your reactions. You get a taste and you’re hooked. 
You lock lips, arms snaking around his neck, pulling him to you as your lips and tongue move in sync with him. Soobin’s hands roam your naked body, from teasing your perky nipples to rubbing your round belly affectionately. 
His hips begin to move rapidly, falling out inconsistently. He’s whining into your mouth, chasing after that high you will so gracefully give him.
“Fuck- Cum in me,” You gasp. It’s not a plea, it’s an order.
And Soobin listens, standing up to hold your legs together. His thrusts become crazed and rampant, his voice creeping out as he can’t control himself anymore.
Soobin collapses as he cums inside you, shaking as you milk him dry. After you lay beside him, his cum dripping out your cunt and onto the sheets, you can’t help but admire the man. 
He lays there, glistening in sweat and breathing heavily. His eyes are shut, a hand is thrown over his face as if to shield him, to you he looks like an angel who just descended from heaven.
You observe him for a moment longer before pulling yourself to sit up. You turn to look back at Soobin, his cheeks are flushed a bright red. You reach over to caress his face, drawing him to finally open his eyes and look at you.
“Let’s take a bath, hm?” You ask quietly. You swear his cheeks get brighter. “Yeah,” Soobin answers, letting you help him up as you two make your way to the bathroom to clean up.
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The summer heat is settling in, you’re sweating, thirsty, and uncomfortable, but you have the biggest smile.
Despite your objections, your friends insisted on throwing you a small baby shower. So here you are, standing under a canopy in a public park, surrounded by the most supportive people you know.
You’re wearing a custom crocheted dress your old friend Sakura made just for this occasion, how she got your measurements without your knowledge, you have no idea. But it’s beautiful, you feel beautiful.
Aeri and Minjeong dolled you up, doing your hair and makeup for today, while Jimin and Ningning helped set up the party decorations.
There’s a little table with desserts, another larger one with catering, and folding chairs for everyone to sit on. Jimin even ordered a backdrop for everyone to be able to take photos together. 
You’re sneaking a bite of a cupcake when a hand sneaks around your waist, causing you to spin around. “You’re not supposed to be eating that,” Soobin teases, and you playfully roll your eyes.
“It’s just one bite! Here, finish it for me then,” You lift the cupcake to his mouth, feeding him the blue iced dessert.
Soobin takes a small bite, grabbing the cupcake and placing it back on the table behind you, wiping his mouth with his thumb.
His gaze lingers on you for a little too long, you feel goosebumps grow on your arms. Usually you’d tell him to stop, to leave you alone. But today you were allowing yourself to indulge in your desires.
“I didn’t know Minjeong invited your friends too,” You say, looking over to the small crowd of people in front of you. Soobin doesn’t turn to look, his attention focused on you.
“Yeah, I guess she knows Beomgyu through Heeseung.” He murmurs. You can see Soobin’s best friend conversing happily with a group of guys. Your friends were mingling well. 
You had all these friends gathered here today, yet not a single family member was in the midst. Yours were nonexistent for reasons you and Soobin knew long ago. But after Seollal you found out he’d temporarily cut contact with his sister. You don’t like knowing that he did that for you.
His mother was having a hard time coming to terms with your decision. She still calls and checks up on you two, but she always sounds sad and disheartened. 
You shake your head and try to not think about that stuff, you were supposed to be happy right now.
As you’re trying to find something to lift your spirits, Soobin speaks up. “Did I tell you you look pretty today?” Your head whips around, a little shocked he could say something so blatant to you in public.
“I mean you’re always pretty,” He doubles down a bit nervously. “But you’re especially beautiful today.” His honest words have your cheeks turning red, you’re lucky you’re wearing foundation to cover them. 
“Thank you,” You mumble, looking away from his deep intense eyes. They follow you and your every move. 
Feeling bold, you reach over and grab his hand, and you can visibly see Soobin’s mood perk up from this single physical gesture.
“Come on, I think Jimin said she’s got a game prepared, I need you to win me that body lotion set.” You pull him towards your friends. 
You hear him laugh, and his grip tighten around your hand. Maybe you can be selfish for a bit longer.
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It’s the middle of June, and you’ve never been more thankful for Soobin’s apartment having an A/C unit than ever before.
In your old apartment, you always had to fight the heat by doing whatever you could to stay cool. The building was older and despite it being listed as having air conditioning, it really meant a plug in house fan.
You’re currently sitting on the couch, watching a show you’ve been binging all morning. Earlier in the season, a side character revealed she was pregnant, and now in this episode, she was arguing with her husband over baby names. Neither of them could come to a conclusive name they both liked.
You look down at your stomach, you’ve grown so much. You were due in a month in a half, so you were almost bursting at the seams.
Naming your baby was a topic you never really pondered on. Mainly because you felt like you didn’t need to with your decision. But a part of you is curious. You stare at your stomach for a while, internally fighting your conscience on what to do in this situation.
To name really anything you are giving ownership and possession of it. To name a person, you are giving them meaning, personality and a life.
As if urging you to make a decision, your son kicks, his leg pressing against the walls of your womb. You can see the left of your stomach jut out a bit more and usual.
If you do it alone, with no one to witness and persecute you, there is no harm done, right? You ask yourself this question over and over again until your baby moves again, almost as if telling you to hurry up.
You bite your lip, sucking in a tight breath.
“What about… Dongmin?” You say out loud, and it’s like the air grows thick with anticipation. You’re not sure who you’re asking, but you’re waiting for something, anything to give you an answer.
“Or Hyunsoo.” You wait. No one responds. Your anxiety slowly turns into hunger, you want an answer.
“Jisung, Leejoon, Seonwoo, Eunsung!” You begin to list off any name you can think of, eager to get a reaction out of anything. “Hajin, Juyoung, Eunjae-”
Your entire stomach flips. Your son is kicking, punching your side like his little life depends on it.
“That one?” You ask, bewildered that he would react so excitedly. He seems to calm down for a second, maybe it was a bluff.
You bite the inside of your gum, unsure how to read the situation. “Do you like that name?” You ask again, and there’s no response. You hold your breath, testing the waters once more.
Eunjae. Choi Eunjae.” You state loudly. Almost immediately you get a reaction, your son moves about in your belly like he’s doing somersaults.
You begin to laugh, you never thought a single name could elicit something so grand from within your womb.
“Is that right? Your name is Eunjae, Choi Eunjae.” You say again, and you feel your insides tickle. 
As you’re enjoying yourself, the silent apartment begins to consume you, reminding you that you shouldn’t be smiling at all. You shouldn’t even be naming your baby, you shouldn't be doing any of this.
The guilt starts to seep in, and your laughter soon transforms into cries of agony.
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At 3 in the morning you wake up and realize Soobin is not in bed. Why are you awake as well? You have to use the bathroom, but you have a feeling that’s not the same reason as why Soobin is missing.
After using the restroom, you creep out of the bedroom, yawning as you pad down the hall. What was he doing up so late?
Walking into the kitchen, you see the sliding door to the balcony is open. 
And Soobin is outside, leaning against the railing as he’s talking to someone on the phone. His voice is muffled and quiet.
You tiptoe closer, you know you shouldn’t spy, but your curiosity got the better of you.
“I’m listening.” Soobin sighs, pressing his phone against his ear as he yawns, struggling to stay awake.
“No yeah, I know.” You watch him hum, leaning against the wall for support. 
Whoever he’s talking to must have asked a question that irritates him, because he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Don’t say that.”
He lets out a long and tired sigh, you see him rub his face. “Y/n and I- We- stop acting as if we’re dating mom, you know we aren’t.”
It’s hypocritical, you think. You say it all the time, you and Soobin aren’t dating. You guys are not in a relationship, and you practically preach that you two will never ever get together.
But when you hear him say it out loud, those words you never imagined him speaking, you feel like every spark of hope left in your body has gone off and died.
And the fact that he was telling this to his mom.
You don’t want to listen to what else he has to say, you march back to the bedroom and throw the covers over your head.
You don’t want to cry, you can’t cry, you don’t deserve to cry. You brought this on yourself, you know this. So why were you so heartbroken?
You’re biting your tongue, clenching your fist in hopes of subduing your tears, when you hear Soobin walk back into the room. He stops and stands by the doorway.
He’s there for a moment, and you have to hold your breath.
“No, she’s still asleep,” You hear him say into the phone as he walks off back to the balcony. He shuts the door hastily behind him.
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“What’re you doing?” Soobin asks, sounding threatened. You look up from your spot on the floor, caught.
“I’m packing.” You say simply, as if it weren’t already obvious. “Where are you going?” He questions further, stepping into the bedroom and staying by the door as if to block you from leaving.
You look up at him and scoff. “I’m not going anywhere.” You shake your head. You see him relax a bit. “Not yet at least.” 
“I mean, once I have the baby in a couple of days, there’s no reason for us to be living together anymore, right?” You remind him. “I’m just packing now so that I don’t have to worry about it afterwards, to make things easier for us.” 
Soobin stays silent as you turn back around and go back to folding and placing your clothes back into your suitcase.
“But you ended your lease, where will you stay?” He shuffles deeper into the room. “I’m gonna stay with Minjeong until I find a new place.” You try to ignore him to the best of your ability. 
“Why don’t you just stay here until you do? Why move out just to move in with your friend?” He argues, and you get the feeling this has nothing to do with inconveniencing your best friend. 
You huff, and roughly throw in your folded jeans into the suitcase, you can’t find it in you to turn to him, already hurt. “You know why Soobin,” You can see him sit down on the bed out of the corner of your eye.
“There’s no reason for me to stay, it’s not like we’re dating or-” “Then why aren’t we?!”
Soobin’s voice causes the room to shake, and your head snaps at him, eyes wide that he could utter those words at you.
He stares at you intensely, his fist are clenched in anger, his brows furrowed as he is desperately searching your face for an answer.
“We act like a couple, talk like one, sleep together like one- why can’t we?” His voice is so quiet, so meek that you’re reminded of the Soobin you first met that fateful night at that stupid party.
You immediately look away, you can’t even focus on your clothes anymore. He’s asked you a forbidden question.
“Tell me Y/n. I don’t get it.” Soobin pushes. “I’m your boyfriend when you need someone to provide, when an old friend annoys you, when you need to fuck. But suddenly you throw me out the window the second I get too close. I don’t know why but I want to understand you.”
Your gaze is fixed on the floor, your hands resting on your knees as you try your best to not break down in front of him. You couldn’t let him see you cry, you knew he hated it. 
“I-I love you, you know?” Those words open the flood gates.
“I’d do anything for you. I already do. I let you use me, twist me around, break me down. Just because I want you to just like me back. I feel like I’m doing everything I can in my favor, but you-” Soobin stops and sighs, getting off from bed to kneel beside you. He grabs your hands and has you face him. You shut your eyes and keep your head down. 
“I hate seeing you cry,” He mumbles, lifting your head to wipe your tears with his thumb. You try to pull away, but he’s got a firm grip on you. 
“Y/n,” His voice is soft. “I don’t know what’s stopping you, I know you love me too, I know you do.”
You finally open your eyes, and a part of you is relieved your tears have blurred your vision, because you can’t bear to see Soobin’s face once you disappoint him.
“No I don’t,” You lie, shaking your head. Soobin’s hands fall from yours, and you turn your back to him, hiding your sobs as best you can as you immediately regret your words.
You need to apologize, but you’re wiping your tears away when you hear Soobin get up in a rush. He’s out the front door before you can realize. You struggle to get up, hobbling out the front door.
You reach the hallway window just in time to see Soobin speed off, his car furiously disappearing down the street. 
“Fuck.” You cuss yourself out. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” 
You suck in a breath as you’re leaning against the hall wall when you feel warm liquid run down your legs. Were you seriously so upset that you peed yourself-
A sudden spike of pain shoots up your uterus and you feel as if you can’t breathe. You almost fall to your knees, forcing yourself to stand until the pain dissipates. That’s when it hits you.
Holy shit your water broke.
You waddle back inside the apartment, insearch of your phone. You try to relax your breathing as you find it laying on the bed. You need to call Soobin. You don’t care that you two just had a fight, you needed to-
Your mind goes blank when you hear a familiar ringtone play loudly from the kitchen. You walk over and find Soobin’s phone ringing on the counter. On his screen is a photo of you from the babyshower. It’s a photo you hadn’t realized he’d taken. 
You were laughing at your friends, cradling a plastic baby doll in your arms. You looked so happy, that day he called you beautiful.
You feel your eyes well up again, but your sniffles are interrupted by another sharp pain. This must be contractions or something, because you felt like you were dying as well as needing to take a giant shit. 
But without Soobin here, you don’t know what to do. You never planned that today would be the day, your doctor promised you had at least another week. 
You stand there by the kitchen counter, agonizing in pain. You know you should call an ambulance, that you should call your family, your friends. But the only person you can think about is Soobin.
The man you’d hopelessly fallen in love with was long gone, leaving without a trace.
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4izn · 15 days ago
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exes and ohs 𐙚 c.yj
chapter twenty: worth the wait
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previous masterlist ʚ♡⃛ɞ his ex is getting married to his brother. he’s totally okay with it. he’s very happy for them. of course, he’s going to the wedding. and he definitely did not pay his next door neighbor five hundred dollars to be his plus one at their destination wedding.
taglist [closed]: @beomgyusluver @yeovnjin @mari-18s-world @usuallyunlikelyfox @jellyyjn @boba-beom @beaabz @yezznn @lovesickchoi @taysfairies @kagtobis @ohmahgods @bunniwords @tkooooop @20-cms
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89 notes · View notes
4izn · 15 days ago
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exes and ohs 𐙚 c.yj
chapter seventeen: eight flights of stairs
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previous masterlist next ʚ♡⃛ɞ his ex is getting married to his brother. he’s totally okay with it. he’s very happy for them. of course, he’s going to the wedding. and he definitely did not pay his next door neighbor five hundred dollars to be his plus one at their destination wedding.
taglist [closed]: @beomgyusluver @yeovnjin @mari-18s-world @usuallyunlikelyfox @jellyyjn @boba-beom @beaabz @yezznn @lovesickchoi @taysfairies @kagtobis @ohmahgods @bunniwords @tkooooop @20-cms
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4izn · 16 days ago
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wow… having read the first part i did NOT ever imagine the full fic was going to be like this, but i am not disappointed at all !!
tbh i prefer obsessed crazy men being pathetic losers than just being creepy assholes. love how soobin called him out and he just turned into a kicked puppy mmm yummm
can’t say the whole 180 didn’t mess with my head, though. but i love that !! AHJSJSG
freudian
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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 )
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“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 him, 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. you've never had a man eat you out like you were showing him the greatest kindness of his life by doing so, 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 awe and pride. 
as you're coming down, he licks his upturned lips and dazedly whispers, “you came. i did that for you. 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!
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4izn · 16 days ago
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someone please write a fanfic based off this edit 😩
CREDS: yjsyonce on tiktok
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4izn · 17 days ago
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“Then I’ll listen,” LOOORDDDD
Taehyun’s head is thrown back against Soobin's shoulder, lip bitten and brows drawn in tight concentration. dare i say one of the hottest parts in this fic lol
In a quiet act of defiance, Taehyun held Soobin’s gaze as he deepened his mouth between your legs. YES TAEHYUN GET YOUR GIRL
Soobin’s fingers curl over yours where your hand rests on his thigh. Slowly, he lifts it, bringing your fingertips to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he parts them and takes your middle and pointer fingers into his mouth, sucking with a lewd, deliberate moan. this had me banging my head on the wall SO HOT WTF
It felt like he was watching you fall for each other right in front of him—slow, inevitable, and completely out of his hands. i actually feed bad for soob… kinda
He reached out to close his hand around your throat. Not squeezing, he just wants to feel your blood pulse beneath his fingertips. See if your heart raced the way his did. he’s so hot and so sweet i hate him 😭😭
EEK !! this was such a nice read, i love love toxic soobin idc. he was doing way too much lol and he didn’t really get want he wanted, i think deep down he knew and clearly just wanted to at least have control over the situation and be included lol.
oh taebin is such an underrated duo too 😭😭 i’m glad you see the vision, this fic was so good !!
WHERE HE CAN'T REACH ❥ 강태현, 최수빈
⋆·˚ ༘ * taehyun knew what you were to soobin: off-limits. boundaries were supposed to protect what you all had. but when affection starts to feel like ownership, and longing begins to look a lot like love, taehyun’s desire becomes the loudest betrayal of all.
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pairing: taehyun x reader x soobin ✮⋆˙✐ 9.3k
warnings: f!reader, smut with plot, jealousy, toxic best friend soobin, possessive soobin, taehyun's in love, reader favors taehyun, roommates, alcohol consumption, hidden feelings, no mxm, voyerism, dom!soobin, switch!taehyun, sub!reader, eiffel tower, oral (f & m rec.)
· ˚₊ · »-♡→ masterlist
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Soobin saw it in the way your eyes followed Taehyun across the room. The way you sighed dreamily, drinking in every inch of him—it was unmistakable.
You thought you were being discreet with your longing stares, only to have Soobin force your attention back to him with a tug on your waist.
Soobin was your childhood best friend. Connected at the hip for as long as you could remember. Every major life event, every core memory, every milestone. Soobin was there, as you were for him.
He had always been quite... territorial about you. And he couldn't tell when the feeling crept up on him.
Maybe it was the first time you cuddled during a movie as adults. Maybe it was the first time you changed your clothes in front of him in college, not thinking much of it since you took baths together as children. Or was it that day he finally had the chance to taste you, drunk and sloppy after a night out?
Or maybe—just maybe—it was when Kang Taehyun stepped into the picture.
Soobin had known Taehyun first, of course. Their friendship formed almost instantly when they ended up sharing the same schedule in college. Naturally, it wasn’t long before Soobin introduced you, his childhood best friend, to the person who had quickly become his closest friend at school. How could he not?
Soobin didn't regret many things in his life. But watching the way your eyes locked with Taehyun's as you spoke each other's names for the first time? That made him wish he could go back in time.
It wasn’t always bad, though. The three of you had once been inseparable, a tight-knit trio that stayed together well beyond college. You even became roommates as you stepped into your busy adult lives. On paper, it was the kind of perfect setup anyone would envy.
Until the year stretched on, and lines began blurring more by the day.
First, it was Soobin coming home from work later than usual, only to find you and Taehyun cooking dinner together and laughing a bit too softly. Not to mention the abrupt end to the laughter once he closed the door behind him.
Then it was Taehyun waiting up for you when you were out late, pretending like it was a casual concern, nothing more.
The worst one to date was you falling asleep on the couch during your typical Friday movie nights. Except your head conveniently rested in Taehyun's lap, not Soobin's like you had done for years.
Soobin couldn’t help but crave your attention. It wasn’t because he wanted you. Not in any real, romantic way at least. It was just that you’d always been his to have around. His constant.
You were supposed to be his. You were supposed to go to him when things were hard. Go to him when you were needy late at night. Trust him with any and everything. Cuddle him, cherish him, love him. Only him.
Yet there went your fucking eyes scaling Taehyun as he walked past the TV and into the kitchen without a care in the world.
You knew exactly how Soobin felt when it came to you. You’d known for a while at this point. But part of you had hoped it would fade—that if you stayed close, stayed safe, you wouldn’t have to hurt him.
Across the room, Taehyun wasn’t stupid.
He felt your eyes on him. He wanted to look back, to match the desire in your stare. But he knew one glance at you would earn him a reprimanding glare from Soobin.
It was no secret how close you and Soobin were. One thing about Taehyun—he notices everything.
He saw how Soobin's hands always managed to find your waist. How your head tilts toward him during conversations. Even now, with your legs swung over Soobin's lap as you settled in for your movie night.
But of course you were close. You were childhood friends, for crying out loud. Your relationship was something sacred. Something off-limits to Taehyun.
It was never said out loud, but you were Soobin's. And Taehyun wasn't the type to steal.
Taehyun had become quite good at playing it cool with you. But his patience would easily wear thin when you laugh too hard at his jokes. When your hand lingers too long on his forearm. When you fall asleep next to him on the couch, Soobin nowhere in sight, and your breath brushing his neck.
And he couldn't do a single thing about it. Not when Soobin set his boundaries so clearly. So instead, he's gotten so used to burying it.
I can live like this, Taehyun would try to convince himself. Stay the third. The extra. It's better than risking the whole trio.
At least until tonight.
Taehyun found his way back to the living room after retrieving the half-empty bottle of wine from the kitchen. A movie night wasn't complete without a few shared drinks.
Topping off both yours and Soobin's glasses, he put the bottle down and settled back on the couch beside you, pretending not to look.
But now it's Soobin's stare that catches Taehyun's attention. He suddenly couldn't take his eyes off the younger boy beside you.
With some liquid courage, Soobin sucked in a breath. Fuck it.
"You want her, don't you?" Soobin muses, his grip on your shin tightening. Your body goes stiff under his touch.
Taehyun’s throat dries. Because he’s wanted you for so long, he forgot what not-wanting feels like.
He glances at you, still frozen, then back at Soobin. "Excuse me?" is all he manages.
A scoff emits from Soobin's throat. He watches you, but speaks to Taehyun. "Don't act dumb. I see the way you eye fuck each other across the room every chance you get."
Your heart drops into your stomach. You swallow hard, pulse ticking behind your ears. “Soobin… what are you doing?” you ask cautiously.
"Giving you what you both want."
Taehyun doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t leave either. His silence screams.
That’s when Soobin smiles. Not cruel or mocking, just curious. Possessive. "Maybe I should see what happens when I share. Just once."
You blink as if trying to reset what you just heard. Your brain floods with static, but underneath it… there’s intrigue. You hate how your breath hitches. Hate that he’s not wrong.
For a moment, you don’t speak. Not because you don’t want this, but because you do. Because this is the kind of thing that changes everything.
Slowly, you turn your head. Taehyun won’t even look at you. His jaw is locked, throat bobbing, fists clenched in his lap. His silence is louder than any yes.
“This feels like a game to you,” you finally say.
"Maybe it is." He nods his chin over at Taehyun. "But he's the one who's losing."
Taehyun's jaw tightens, the first time he's moved since Soobin's outburst. What was he to do? He's been in love with you for years. But he didn't want you like this. Not as some power play. And certainly not as Soobin’s dare.
"Taehyun?" You whisper, exchanging silent words that Soobin can't decipher, and he hates the secret language you two share.
Taehyun felt like he was being set up. Like Soobin was daring him to cross a line. To see how much pride he’d swallow.
If this was the only way he could have you, even for one night, then so be it. He’d give Soobin a fucking show.
“Don’t think this is about you,” Taehyun breaks his silence, eyes never leaving you. “She’s the only reason I’m still sitting here.”
Soobin hums in content. The words sting, but Taehyun is still submitting. That’s a win in his eyes.
Your name lingers in your ears. Then you feel Soobin’s large hand gripping your chin, guiding your gaze back to him. "If you want this," his voice is calm yet commanding. "I need you to stand up. Right now."
You want so badly to look back at Taehyun, to check if his eyes still burn for you. But Soobin's grip keeps you locked on him. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your decision.
Before fear can catch up with you, you're straightening your shoulders and swinging your legs off Soobin's lap. Now you're standing directly in front of the two men on the couch. Just waiting.
After watching you for a moment, Soobin slowly stands with you. To your surprise, he laces his fingers with Taehyun's, who is still sitting on the couch, pulling him to his feet.
Soobin bends down to pick up both yours and Taehyun's wine glasses. You take yours from his hands without question. After an intense exchange of eye contact, Taehyun finally takes his glass—a reluctant agreement.
Eventually, Soobin picks up his own. "Finish it," he commands, tilting his head back first, downing the dry red liquid. He sets his glass down, staring back at Taehyun. "Hope you can take direction as well as you talk back."
The gravity of the situation was beginning to strike you. You could only hear the sound of your own heartbeat, all the nerves and excitement beginning to pile up. Staring down at the red wine in your glass, you debate whether it's too late to turn back.
It's the second thud of glass hitting the table that brings you back. Taehyun had finished his drink. He was in. Your chest tightens as you lift your eyes to find him already looking at you, steady and unflinching.
Here's goes nothing. Finishing your wine, Soobin is quick to set your glass down for you. He takes your hand in his.
You glance back at Taehyun before Soobin pulls you away, leading you all the way to his bedroom. The two of you follow him closely behind, unspoken consent hanging in the air.
Taehyun rolls his eyes once Soobin turns his back. Of course he picked his own bedroom. It was a deliberate move. A silent dig at Taehyun that he was meant to swallow.
Now the door is shut behind all three of you. The room is buzzing with a new energy, and you almost don't know what to do with yourself. Nobody speaks right away.
Soobin moves first. His large hand presses firmly against Taehyun's chest, guiding him toward the bed. You couldn't quite grasp the dark look they exchanged, but it made your breath catch. "Sit down," he gently commands.
With slight hesitation, Taehyun takes a comfortable seat on the edge of Soobin's bed. Excitement bubbles inside Taehyun, watching you stand so helplessly in the middle of the room. He notices the way you bite the inside of your cheek, a common nervous habit of yours.
The excitement is quick to fade, though, as Soobin slowly circles you, stopping directly behind your body.
"Stand still for me," he directs you this time, pulling your shirt over your head and discarding it onto the floor. "Let him see you like this."
Your lips part in a quiet gasp when Soobin presses himself against your back. He gathers your hair in a ponytail, craning your neck to the side. Suddenly, he begins pressing soft kisses to the warm flesh.
Your eyes flutter closed. The feeling of Soobin's lips was too good not to bask in. Especially as his hands began searching your body. Light grips of your hips and thighs became overwhelming. Soobin had always been greedy when it came to you, and this was no different.
A gentle moan escaped your lips as Soobin's hand settled between your legs. He cups you over your pajama shorts, firm and in just the right place.
Taehyun wonders what he did in his past life to deserve such torture.
It pained him to see you crumpling in Soobin's hands. But watching the way your needy hips leaned in the touch, almost begging for more, had Taehyun tightening in his pants more than he'd like to admit.
Your eyes flutter open, Soobin still moving behind you. “He’s j-just watching us,” you stutter. Across from you, Taehyun’s hands grip his knees, knuckles gone white.
"Good. That means he's learning." Soobin simply responds.
His assault against your skin continues, biting down on the junction of your shoulder and neck. His eyes stayed trained on Taehyun as he did so, predatory and teasing.
Taehyun can't stay silent for much longer. "What do you want me to do?" He's desperate at this point, dying for Soobin to instruct him.
The question delights Soobin. He smiles against your skin at Taehyun's obedience. "You'll know when I tell you." Soobin removes his hand from between your legs, and you whine at the loss of contact. The noise alone has Taehyun twitching where he sits. "See? He can follow directions."
"And what if I want to direct him instead?"
"Then I'll listen," Taehyun answers you quickly, round boba eyes filled with need as he stares at you. His eyes are fixed on your lacy bra, trying hard to ignore the way Soobin's long fingers trace circles over your nipples through the undergarment. The action pulls more whimpers from you.
God, Soobin had you right under his fingertips. Literally. It's all he's wanted to experience again for a while. And having Taehyun as his witness? He felt as if he'd already won.
"Not yet. He only gets what I give him." Soobin is firm in his stance, keeping his focus on your pleasure. "And right now, I want him to see what it looks like when you start to fall apart.
You don’t get a second to brace yourself before Soobin’s hand slips into your shorts, a finger pushing inside you without warning. “Damn, you’re already soaked for us,” he mutters, emphasizing the word us.
Your legs nearly give out, and your arm shoots back, hooking around Soobin’s neck just to stay upright.
But it’s not him you’re thinking about.
You can’t stop your eyes from drifting to Taehyun, guilt blooming in your chest. Every curl of Soobin’s fingers threatens to drag a name from your lips, and it’s not his. You bite your tongue, swallowing Taehyun’s name like a secret, praying he knows these moans are meant for him.
Cursing silently at the situation he could no longer escape, Taehyun gave in—pulling off his shirt and running a hand down over the front of his sweats, desperate for any kind of relief.
It was the most he could do right now, closing his eyes and pretending those moans were coming from beneath him instead. “Fuck,” he groaned, voice shaky. The effect you had on Taehyun bordered on inhuman.
Your eyes ogled over Taehyun's bare torso. You traced every mole, every dip and curve of his abs with your gaze like you’d been starved of him. Soobin noticed your reaction before Taehyun did. His fingers slipped out of you without warning.
"Go on," Soobin says, almost too kindly, peeling off your shorts. He hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling and snapping the fabric against your skin. You yelp, and he’s already hard just seeing you like this, in almost nothing, in front of them both. Taehyun hates how easily Soobin plays with you.
"Give him some attention. He’s earned it. Right, pretty girl?" You nod, breathless.
Although Soobin hates how eagerly you stride toward Taehyun, he lets you. He wants to see how you act when he allows the other boy access to you. This is exactly what he wanted.
Soobin follows close behind you, ridding himself of his own shirt in the process. The wine had made him bold and dizzy. Without thinking, Soobin presses his hand against the small of your back, almost guiding you into Taehyun's lap.
A low groan leaves Taehyun's throat at the mere sight of you on top of him. When you fully settle into his lap, he's already hissing, grappling with the chains of his own self-control.
For fuck's sake, Taehyun didn't know what to look at or where to touch you. He'd imagined this scenario more times than he could count. But seeing how perfect you were on top of him, it was incomparable to any made-up fantasy. His hands skimmed your sides with uncertainty.
If he let himself fully touch you how he wanted, he worried he would never be able to let go.
Taehyun was keenly aware of Soobin's eyes on you both. The older boy had made his way to bed as well, settling in right behind Taehyun.
The filthy grind of your hips pulls Taehyun's attention back to you. His hands fly to your sides, steadying you, slowing you down.
You understand—he wants this to start slow. He wants to savor you, in case this is the last time. Your eyes lock, the silent language between you growing louder than words.
Your head spins watching Taehyun all fucked out from such simple movements. You hope he knows how long you've been wanting this, too. "You look so perfect," Taehyun sighs longingly.
Taehyun’s arms wrap around your waist, subtle but defiant, as he stares up at you. He starts moving with you, his hips syncing to your rhythm.
His eyes stay on yours, mouth parted, already imagining the way you’d feel wrapped tight around him in this position—how you’d sound moaning his name.
What an unfortunate situation this was.
Without thinking, you lean in, ready to finally press the tender kiss to Taehyun’s lips. The one thing you’ve been aching to give him for what feels like forever.
But before your mouths can meet, your eyes fly open. A large hand grips your face, squeezing your cheeks tightly.
It’s Soobin.
He’s reached around Taehyun’s body, fingers firm on your jaw, his chin resting casually on Taehyun’s shoulder like it’s nothing. Like this isn’t the most intimate moment of your life.
Soobin wasn’t content with how effortlessly in sync you and Taehyun were. It unsettled him more than he thought it would. The quiet intimacy, something he’d never shared with you, was too much to ignore.
So he did the only thing he could think of to stop it. He forced space between you, a silent command to hold off.
"You don't get that part until I say so." Soobin chastises you both.
"Soobin, please," you beg. He hates how he could rarely say no to you. Not when you look at him like that. But he needed to retain his control.
A short sigh leaves his chest. "Taehyun, would you like to feel her lips somewhere else?"
Taehyun doesn't speak. He looks to you first, like he always has and will, for any sort of consent. Of course he wants that. He would be a fool to say no. But he can't give in too willingly. Not when this was Soobin's game.
Carefully, he nods, side-eyeing Soobin, whose face was inches from his own.
Soobin hums beside him, chin still resting on Taehyun’s shoulder as his hand slips from your face. “Alright. He’s been good enough. Go ahead, baby. Show him how sweet you can be.”
Your stomach twists with anticipation, heat pooling between your legs. You don’t need to be told twice. Crawling down Taehyun's body feels natural, like instinct.
You don’t dare look at Soobin as you move, but you feel the heat of his palm pressed on your shoulder, guiding you down, allowing you.
Taehyun’s whole body tightens watching you. His hands fist into the sheets. He doesn’t move—he can’t. Not with you between his legs and definitely not with Soobin's admittedly distracting breath against his neck.
You’ve both waited for this moment, dreamed about it in secret. But now that it’s real, his throat feels tight, like breathing too deeply might ruin everything.
When you kiss just above the waistband of his sweats, he exhales a curse. “Shit…”
He doesn’t touch you when you're like this. He wouldn’t dare, not without Soobin’s permission. But every fiber of his being aches to cup your face, to thread his fingers through your hair, to keep you there.
You tug his waistband down slowly, your hands trembling just slightly. He’s already so hard and leaking. He’s beautiful. How long have I wanted this? For a second, you worry that you’re both toeing the line of something you might not come back from.
“Look at him,” Soobin says from the bed, voice low and amused. “He’s barely holding it together.”
You glance up through your lashes. Taehyun’s head is thrown back against Soobin's shoulder, lip bitten and brows drawn in tight concentration. But then his gaze drops to meet yours, and suddenly he looks wrecked. There’s so much raw emotion layered into that look. So when you finally wrap your mouth around him, you feel him break.
His back arches, his hips twitch, but he still doesn’t thrust. He moans loudly and unfiltered, like the sound was dragged from his chest against his will.
You never thought giving a man head could be so pleasurable until now. You felt almost determined to take all that you could, hand wrapping around the base. Your cheeks hollowed, and your tongue slowly worked against him, dragging over every curve and vein.
He sounded so pretty above you, and all you wanted was for him to touch you. Your hair, your face, your neck, anything to prove he was really here with you.
But one glance at Soobin’s watchful expression told you everything. Taehyun was doing the most he could, trapped by the rules of this game.
He was holding himself back so much that if Soobin gave him even the slightest permission, he’d have you pressed into the mattress in no time.
Lost in thought and mindless pleasure, Taehyun accidentally thrusts up into your mouth, forcing a heavy gag from your throat.
“Oh my god…” his breath shudders, followed by your name. As if it were the only word he remembers.
The sound of his voice sends something sharp through you. You realize, deep in your gut, that you need him to say your name like that again. Over and over like it means something.
Soobin moves fast.
His hand snaps out, gripping Taehyun’s jaw tightly, jerking his head towards him. You stop your movements.
“Aht, aht,” Soobin snaps, his voice low and reprimanding. “You don’t get to claim her like that.”
Taehyun blinks, startled. “I'm sorry. I—I didn’t mean—”
“You will be sorry,” Soobin mutters, releasing him with a final squeeze before turning his attention to you. “Up. Come here.”
You hesitate, lips still tingling, Taehyun’s taste on your tongue. Part of you doesn’t want to leave. But Soobin’s voice is commanding, firm, and you’ve never quite been able to disobey him.
He helps you up, pulling you onto the bed and into his lap, your bare back settling against his warm chest as he rests against the headboard. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, grounding you.
But your eyes are still on Taehyun.
He’s panting, undone, watching the way Soobin holds you like you belong to him. And it hurts. More than it should. More than he expected.
Soobin kisses your temple, his lips soft against your sweat-damp skin. “You’re too generous, pretty girl,” he murmurs, a smile in his voice. “Let’s see what he does now that he can’t have you. Not yet.”
And even though his tone is teasing, you hear the edge of something else underneath.
Because even Soobin knows. The way Taehyun said your name just now…
That wasn’t lust. That was love.
Taehyun’s gaze flickers between your parted lips and the curve of your hips as Soobin draws idle circles into your skin. He can’t breathe, can’t think. You’re right there, so close, yet you were still somehow out of his reach.
He’d give anything to feel you against him. But he knows the rules. He knows who’s in charge.
Soobin studies him like a scientist, intrigued by every inch of restraint. “You're holding back,” he says, almost curious. “You want her bad, don’t you?”
Taehyun doesn’t answer right away. Then, through gritted teeth, he speaks barely above a whisper, “Only an idiot wouldn't want her."
Your heart flutters at Taehyun's words. Soobin hums in discontent. His lips graze the shell of your ear as his voice drops. “But you don’t get her just yet.”
You suck in a breath, your body already responding, heart racing. Taehyun doesn’t look away from you. It's an impossible task.
Soobin’s hand trails slowly down your abdomen. “You want to claim her?” he murmurs. “Then you can start where she needs it most.”
And just like that, he's spreading your legs wide apart for Taehyun. A sight he thought he'd never get to see.
“Keep them open, pretty girl,” Soobin purrs, eyes fixed on Taehyun now. “Let him taste what he’s been dreaming of.”
"Anything you want, Soobin," you whimper, voice cracking. "Just... please let him touch me."
Taehyun, being the gentleman he was, wouldn’t make you wait. Not when you looked at him all desperate, chest heaving, hips arching up to meet him.
Even with you squirming beneath Soobin’s mouth on your neck, his fingers drawing lazy paths across your stomach, Taehyun stayed good and obedient.
If it meant giving you the pleasure you so clearly ached for, he’d wait his turn—but not a second longer than necessary.
Two fingers hooked around the waistband of your underwear, slowly tugging the fabric down your thighs and discarding it somewhere in the room.
A shiver raced down your spine at the exposure, your legs spreading wider until they draped over Soobin’s thighs.
Taehyun’s kisses against your inner thighs were soft. His movements are stiff and unsure at first, afraid to cross that invisible line.
That’s when you felt Soobin’s breath against your ear, his voice low with a command. “Taste her.”
Taehyun is quick to oblige. The moment his lips come in contact with your dripping cunt, it's like he's lost in you.
A starving man is the only thing you could compare him to. It was quite a beautiful sight, watching him split you apart.
A hard drag of his tongue on your clit makes you call out for him. Your nails sink into the meat of Soobin’s thighs.
“Fuck T-Tae,” you whine lowly. Taehyun groans against your folds. He swears he hasn’t been this hard in his entire life.
Soobin is watching over your shoulder. Even he could see the way Taehyun devoured you, deriving pleasure from the act alone.
Soobin took note of everything—from the way Taehyun’s hands splayed over your stomach, to the way he looked up at you through his tousled hair, eyeing your reactions to ensure he did everything right.
In a quiet act of defiance, Taehyun held Soobin’s gaze as he deepened his mouth between your legs. The eye contact made Soobin clench his jaw behind you, but he didn’t look away.
You felt the pressure of Soobin’s arousal pressing firm against your lower back, your body flush against his. Every twitch of your hips, every breath you took—he felt it all. He always loved seeing you like this, teetering on the edge.
But he couldn’t stand how your body naturally responded to Taehyun’s movements. His heart secretly panged, wanting to take back some control. Even just a little. Just enough.
Soobin’s hand moved sensually down your arm. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch, and Taehyun noticed.
There he goes again, owning you, Taehyun thought.
Soobin’s fingers curl over yours where your hand rests on his thigh. Slowly, he lifts it, bringing your fingertips to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he parts them and takes your middle and pointer fingers into his mouth, sucking with a lewd, deliberate moan.
The feeling of Soobin’s tongue swirling around your fingers—paired with Taehyun’s tongue flicking over your clit—was almost too much to comprehend. Your eyes roll back as your head drops against Soobin’s chest. The dual attention was overwhelming in the most sinful way.
He pulls your fingers out of his mouth with a wet pop, moving his lips to decorate your neck and chest with kisses.
But not before guiding your hand down into Taehyun’s hair, forcing you to thread your fingers through the soft strands. You tugged lightly without thinking, drawing a desperate groan from the boy between your thighs.
“So good for us,” Soobin chuckles. “Show him where you need him most. Gotta get that pretty hole nice and ready, don’t we?”
If Soobin let him, Taehyun would’ve stayed between your legs forever. He would’ve had you fucking his face until you were trembling and out of breath—just one of the many obscene fantasies he kept hidden away.
The taste of you was intoxicating, the only thing grounding him to reality. His hips rutted helplessly into the mattress, probably staining the sheets with pre-cum, desperate for a friction he could never satisfy on his own.
“So pathetic,” Soobin breathes against your ear, fingers rolling your nipples between his fingers now that your bra lay forgotten on the floor. He watches Taehyun unravel between your legs, lips slick and eyes wild with want. A cruel smile tugs at his lips.
“That’s your type, huh?” he coos. “Men who beg with their mouths full?” His teeth sink gently into the shell of your ear, and you shiver at the sting.
You're so close to the cruel edge of release now. Soobin’s sharp words only twisted the coil tighter inside you, but it wasn’t his voice your heart clung to.
It was Taehyun. He pulled at something deeper and tender, even in the filth of it all.
You should’ve left the room before it got to this point. Should’ve said no. Should’ve stopped this before it got any further.
But you don’t. Because this is insane, yes. Reckless and dangerous.
In your mind, you’ve already made your choice. You fell in love with Taehyun before you even realized it, before you ever meant to.
It was in the little moments—the way he always waited up for you. The softness in his voice when he said your name. The ache in your chest when he would smile at someone else.
Emotionally, you chose him a long time ago. This? This is just confirmation.
Soobin sees your mind churning and your breath increasing. He couldn't lose this game.
Soobin’s fingers grip your jaw hard, forcing your head down. “Look at him,” he spits harshly.
Taehyun’s face is buried in your pussy, eyes shut tight as his tongue flicks fast and firm over your clit. He groans like he’s addicted to the taste, hands locked around your thighs to keep you open and still. His head moves with desperate rhythm, like he’s trying to fuck you with his mouth alone.
“Fucking starving for you,” Soobin growls. “You see that? He’s shaking like he’s gonna cum just from eating you.”
You whimper, your breath stalling. Your hips twitch up against Taehyun’s mouth, and he moans louder, grinding his tongue into you harder.
“Don’t look away,” Soobin says. “You wanted this. Now fucking watch him lose it.”
You obey, but you're only focused on the boy below you. "Taehyun, I'm so close. You feel so fucking good."
If you took any longer to cum, Taehyun might’ve made a mess in the bed just from the way you praised him. But it hits you fast—your legs shaking, clenching around nothing, his tongue relentless as it drags over your folds.
Your hips try to jerk up, chasing more, but Soobin’s strong arm pins you to the bed, holding you down like you’re nothing but his.
A scream builds in your throat, Taehyun’s name right there on your tongue—ready to give him everything.
But Soobin doesn’t let you. He collides his mouth with yours, swallowing it, taking the name meant for someone else and replacing it with his own brutal kiss. He owns the sound, owns the moment, and refuses to let you come undone for anyone but him.
Even though the sight of Soobin’s lips on yours makes Taehyun’s blood boil, he doesn’t stop. He coaxes you through every tremble of your orgasm, mouth tracing soft kisses along your thighs and hips. Anywhere he can reach.
This was for you. Always for you. He’d grit his teeth and endure it if it meant getting to have you, really have you, in the end.
Your body shakes, the aftershocks of release leaving you dizzy and pliant against Soobin’s chest. His fingers trace your skin, proud and possessive. You can barely think, but then you feel it.
Taehyun’s hand, tentative yet deliberate, sliding up your thigh.
It’s gentle, a stark contrast to the way Soobin handles you. Taehyun's touch is lighter against your oversensitive skin, filled with care and longing.
You blink down at him. For a moment, the world shrinks down to the softness in his eyes. A small, shaky smile tilts the corner of his mouth.
Not for Soobin, and not for the game they’re playing. For you.
Soobin doesn’t miss the exchange. His hand fists in your hair, tugging just enough to make you whimper, reclaiming your attention.
"Sweet, isn’t he?" Soobin murmurs into your hair, amused. "Thinks he can fuck you better if he touches you softer."
Taehyun's jaw tightens, but he doesn't let go of your thigh. His thumb rubs soothing circles on your skin, a silent promise that even if he’s not allowed to have you, he still feels for you.
"On your knees," Soobin commands, pushing you forward slightly. You’re quick to listen to him.
A contrast to Soobin forcing you forward, Taehyun quickly helps you shift onto your knees. "She's so good for you," Taehyun whispers, surprising himself, admiring your obedience. But he wishes it were for him, not Soobin.
"Isn't she?" Soobin muses. He observes you on your hands and knees as he stands from the bed. In one motion, he slides down his sweat pants and boxers, cock pressed hard and heavy against his stomach.
Taehyun is sitting, waiting beside you on the bed. His hand strokes your back lovingly. Too tender for Soobin's liking. "Did I say you could touch her yet?" The boy snaps.
Taehyun sucks in a frustrated breath, standing from the bed. "What the hell am I supposed to do then?"
Soobin doesn’t answer, just tilts his chin toward you. That was all Taehyun needed. Their eyes lock over your body, an unspoken exchange passing between them. For the first time all night, they weren’t at each other’s throats. They were united in this moment, in what they both wanted. You.
You knew what was going on, and a shiver runs down your spine at the thought of taking them both.
The bed dips behind you. Soobin grips your hips in a bruising hold, positioning himself just right.
Taehyun is more careful when he gets onto the bed, kneeling in front of you. You’re perfectly trapped between the two of them now. His eyes find yours instantly, that same hunger reflected back at you.
The sight of you, on all fours, waiting for him, was something Taehyun could hardly believe. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen—your body laid bare, ready for both of them.
A harsh slap to your ass draws your attention, once again, away from Taehyun. You yelp, retreating slightly, only for Soobin to tug you back against him. “Don't make him wait," he chuckles, enjoying every bit of this. "He's been so patient.”
When you look up at Taehyun again, he gives you a subtle nod in confirmation. His hand wraps around himself as you part your lips, taking him into your mouth for the second time tonight. This time slower, deeper, and more intentional.
Taehyun’s breath shudders out of him, eyes fluttering closed as he tries not to lose control too early. He groans, completely undone by the feeling of you.
Behind you, Soobin doesn’t wait. He takes the moment you’re distracted, and bottoms out inside you with a single, ruthless thrust.
Having been so empty for so long, you can't help but whimper around Taehyun.
"Shit baby," Soobin groans loudly above you, throwing his head back. “If I knew you'd be this tight, I would've had Taehyun stretch you more."
You knew Soobin was getting off on this power play. Every thrust, every word, every command—it was all a show of dominance.
The way he gripped your hips, the way he bent your body to his will. He wanted Taehyun to see it. To watch as he fucked you like he created you.
And god, did he know what he was doing. Each ruthless slam of his hips had your mind short-circuiting, your body jerking with every sharp roll. You could feel how deeply he wanted to leave a mark, to make sure neither of you ever forgot this.
You barely had time to process it, given the way Taehyun filled your throat. Your hands gripped at his thighs for stability as Soobin’s thrusts shoved you forward, pushing Taehyun deeper every time. The gagging sounds only made him groan.
And yet, somehow, it all made your stomach twist deliciously. Being used by one and worshipped by the other.
Neither of the boys was small, either, might you add. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, your throat stretched around Taehyun while your cunt was relentlessly pounded from behind. It was overwhelming—in the best way.
Soobin grunted behind you, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, clearly enjoying the way you struggled to take it all. “Look at you,” he growled, watching your body bounce between them. “So full, so fucking messy.”
Taehyun’s hand came up to cradle your jaw, his touch softer, wiping a tear away with his thumb as you blinked up at him. His brows were drawn, his lips parted, like he was barely holding himself together. “You’re doing so good,” he breathed, voice strained.
The praise only made the pressure in your core worse—like you could cum from the stimulation alone.
More than the tears in your eyes, guilt continues to spread through your veins when you peer up at Taehyun. He was so intently focused on you, trying to distract himself from the way Soobin used your body.
Taehyun wanted to show you there was nothing to feel guilty about. You’d both agreed to this, to surrender to something bigger than yourselves. He would never hold you accountable for the situation Soobin orchestrated, for the role you were forced to play in a dynamic you never asked for.
Taehyun saw it clearly now—how Soobin had drawn thick, confining lines around you, ones you couldn’t cross without bleeding. But even as you writhed beneath Soobin, Taehyun didn’t see betrayal. He saw the ache you carried. He saw himself in your eyes.
The fire burning in his chest was undeniable. Hot and all consuming. And he knew you felt it too. Because even with Soobin buried deep inside you, Taehyun could feel your heart racing for him.
Your mind wasn’t where your body was. It was with him.
Taehyun wants to touch you even more. He reaches a careful hand up, ready to grip your head for some connection. But he stops himself, looking up at Soobin.
Soobin is already watching his movements. He gives Taehyun a sly smile. “Pull her hair if you’d like. But watch me fuck her while you do it.”
Taehyun’s fingers tangle in your hair gently. The intention isn’t to tug and pull, its to reclaim even just a small part of you.
Even while locked in that silent war with Soobin, eye to eye, neither willing to back down, Taehyun felt his orgasm creeping up fast.
The way you gagged around him, the sight of you being fucked so roughly, it was too much. And Soobin, ever the showman, only fucked you harder under the pressure, like it was a challenge.
You are breathless and dazed from Soobin’s thrusts and grips at your body, keenly aware of Taehyun’s jaw tightening, nearing his climax.
Taehyun moans, watching the say Soobin slid himself in and out of you with ease. Your ass and thighs recoil with Soobin’s every action, slapping of skin filling his ears.
His senses are fully overwhelmed with you. And it’s about to make him spill his load into your mouth while Soobin gets to take you.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Taehyun is panicking. He doesn’t want to finish like this. He won’t finish like this.
Without letting another second pass, Taehyun cups a soft hand under your jaw, sliding his length out of your mouth and dropping onto the edge of the bed.
"I- I can't," he pants. "Not like this.”
It didn’t matter how carefully Taehyun stepped aside. The second he did, Soobin grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing your face down into the mattress, your cheek flush against the sheets as he fucked into you harder than before.
He didn’t flinch at Taehyun’s absence—he welcomed it. This was his chance to remind him, to show him what he could never have. What had always been his. You.
Soobin’s large frame looms over your own, chest pressed against your back. “Fuck you look so good like this,” he moans against your ear.
Both of Soobin’s arms locked tight around your hips like a seatbelt—no, more like a cage. There was nothing protective about his grip. Every thrust was a claim, every shift of his body a reminder that he owned this moment.
His hips slammed into you with brutal precision, his cock dragging along every sensitive spot that had you biting into the sheets. You weren’t going anywhere, not with the way he held you down like a prize he refused to share.
“Shit,” he gritted through his teeth, eyes flicking down to watch where your bodies met. “You feel that? I'm in your fucking stomach.”
He grinds in deeper, making your body jolt with each stroke. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s raw, filthy, Soobin fully unraveling inside you, and all you can do is take it—and enjoy every second.
Your throaty whines and whimpers go straight to Soobin’s core. It was the perfect circumstance for him. Taehyun sitting beside you both, forced to watch. You, face down in the bed letting Soobin claim your cunt.
Soobin pulled out and came loud and hard on your thighs, painting your skin with ropes of his cum. He held you in place with one hand as the other finished himself off proudly.
His hands roam your body slowly, palming your ass, dragging down your spine. He wanted to commit every inch of you to memory, to hold it over Taehyun later.
Soobin glances sideways, expecting to catch a twitch of jealousy, a clenched fist, anything from Taehyun. But the other man’s face is maddeningly blank, too composed for Soobin’s liking.
“Tsk,” Soobin scoffs, voice low. “Not even gonna put up a fight? Guess you don’t want her bad enough.”
Taehyun’s look darkens at that, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. His eyes don’t leave yours for a second. “I want her so bad I’m not about to ruin it by acting like you.”
Instead of feeling jealous, Taehyun is simply fixated on you. Your hair falling around your face as your body dropped down onto the white sheets, glowing and smiling up at him.
He could feel the strangling hold that Soobin had on him for years when it came to you slowly unraveling. He was beginning not to care about the repruciations.
He couldn't keep letting these invisible lines delay what he could have right now. Not when he was this close to heaven.
Soobin's hands still possessively gripped your waist as he basked in the aftermath. You were wrecked beneath him, trembling, used, and somehow still desperate for more.
With an annoyed look, he glanced over at Taehyun, who hadn't torn his eyes off you for a second.
"Whatever," Soobin says, helping you move onto your back. His next words are blunt and vulgar. "Your turn to fuck her."
He said it like a joke, like a gift thrown carelessly into the air.
But for Taehyun, it wasn't casual. Not at all.
Soobin lifts himself from you, pressing a final kiss to the base of your throat. He removes himself from the situation entirely, sitting in his gaming chair in the corner of the room.
In Soobin's mind, he'd already succeeded. He put all his cards on the table and showed Taehyun what those boundaries look like up close.
He felt comfortable enough to leave you each to your own devices under his watch, especially with how Taehyun sat frozen. There was no need for him to stake another claim. He already made his point clear.
Soobin would let Taehyun have his last hurrah with you. Let him pretend, for a moment, that any of this was his.
But even as he stepped back, there was a smug glint in his eye. Because no matter how tender Taehyun touched you, no matter how deep his feelings ran, Soobin knew you’d still be aching from him. Still dripping with him. Still ruined by him.
Taehyun hesitates, fists balled at his sides. His instincts warred inside him—to obey, to fall in line, to pretend this was still just a game.
But then you looked at him. Your eyes pleading and trusting.
Taehyun reached for you, hands shaking, and finally touched you. His palms smoothed over your sides, cradling you as though you were something breakable.
Your heart stops once he climbs on top of you. His hand is holding your face lovingly. The other is on his cock, gliding it up and down your folds, covering himself in your slick.
You're already arching into him, wanting him to devour you. He hovers above you now, lips inches from yours.
Taehyun's eyes soften. "Can I kiss her now?"
Soobin opens his mouth to speak, but Taehyun barely waits for instruction. He’s already kissing you breathless, full of all the reserved energy he’s bottled up since the moment he met you.
His lips were softer than you ever imagined, plush and warm against yours. Tilting his head to the side, he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping past your parted lips to tangle with yours. It was messy and sweet, needy and slow. So perfect it almost hurt.
His heart thudded painfully behind his ribs. He should’ve just played along. Should’ve been grateful for scraps. Grateful for Soobin even letting him touch you.
And yet the second your arms reach around his neck, a whine escaping your lips, something inside him snapped again.
This wasn't Soobin’s anymore. There was no more pretending
You were his. And you always had been.
When he finally slides into you, it’s like the gates of heaven open just for him. The warmth, the tightness elicited a guttural moan he didn’t even try to hold back.
His hands grip your hips with a desperation he’s been holding in for far too long, and for a moment, he’s completely lost in the feeling of you.
The way Taehyun fucks you is at an entirely different rhythm than Soobin. It's slow, focused, and intimate.
Each roll of his hips feels like worship. Like an apology for every second he spent pretending you weren't everything he ever wanted.
Soobin leans back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. He watches, expecting Taehyun to fall in line—to treat you like a toy the way he had.
But the longer he watches, the more his smirk fades.
Taehyun’s attention is entirely on you. Soobin might as well not exist. His obedience has completely vanished.
Taehyun leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he rocks into you. His voice is just a whisper, too soft for Soobin to catch.
"Please let me have you," he breathes with his head in your neck. "Let me keep you. I don’t want to keep playing this game."
His words make you clench around him, and Taehyun shudders from the feeling. He cradles your waist, pressing his forehead against yours.
Another slow thrust is followed by a broken whimper from your throat that he captures with a kiss. You’re trembling underneath him, legs spread and nails dragging down his back. It’s driving him insane.
"Taehyun," you're gasping. "More. I need more of you."
The way you whisper his name, all broken and needy, undoes him.
At first, Taehyun tried to be careful. Tried to savor the feeling of finally having you underneath him, your body clinging to his with every movement.
But he couldn't do it. Not when you were gasping his name like that. Not when your hands fisted his hair, trying to pull him even closer.
Taehyun groans low in his chest. His hips start snapping harder into you, the bedframe creaking beneath the force.
"Holy shit," you whimper, your voice wrecked. "Please. Don't stop, don't stop."
Taehyun knows Soobin’s still in the room. He knows this isn't how it was supposed to go. But he doesn’t give a fuck anymore.
He kisses you more, claiming every little moan and sob that spills out of you. His hands are everywhere—your hips, your ass, your thighs, holding you down so he can fuck you properly.
"Mine," he rasps against your lips. "You're fucking mine. Say it."
You nod frantically, too overwhelmed to form words. Tears prick at your eyes from how deep he’s hitting, from the way he’s using you like you belong to him—and you do.
"Yours," you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. "I'm yours, Taehyun. Just yours."
He promised he would burn Soobin's control to the fucking ground.
Taehyun thinks he hears Soobin say something, but he’s not even listening anymore.
It’s your eyes. Your lips. Your voice when you moan his name. Taehyun doesn't know how he lasted this long without you.
Taehyun suddenly slides one hand between your bodies, rubbing slow, tight circles over your clit intimately, right in front of Soobin. Claiming you in a way that wasn’t about performance or obedience.
It was about you and him and nothing else.
Soobin keeps watching from his chair. Arms still folded behind his head, trying to look relaxed. Trying to look like this was all still his game.
But his eyes narrow, because he finally see it.
The way you cling to Taehyun like he's oxygen. The way Taehyun fucks you like he owns every inch of your body, and you let him.
Not because you were told to, but because you wanted to.
Soobin shifts in his seat, adjusting the growing tightness in his pants, but says nothing.
You make a brief, subtle eye contact with Soobin over Taehyun's shoulder. Taehyun's head is buried in your neck, running his tongue over your skin.
The eye contact lasts for only a second before Taehyun kisses you again. Soobin looks down, defeated.
It wasn’t just that he’d lost you. It’s that he’d created the space for you to be found.
In truth, he wasn’t sad about losing control. He felt like an asshole. All this time he’d acted like you belonged to him, without ever really seeing you. And by doing so, he’d left the door wide open for someone else to treat you like you deserved.
He sees it now—the emotional aftermath of his actions. How all his possessiveness didn’t protect anything. It only pushed you further into someone else’s arms.
And Taehyun, he wasn’t some rival. He was the one who waited. The one who loved you gently. Respectfully. Quietly. The one who never needed to control you because he always believed you deserved to choose.
It hits Soobin like a punch to the gut.
Taehyun isn't fucking you. He's making love to you.
It felt like he was watching you fall for each other right in front of him—slow, inevitable, and completely out of his hands.
Unaware of Soobin’s shift in demeanor, you’re too busy with your legs pressed into your chest, Taehyun focused on every inch of you.
You're gripping his shoulders, never wanting to let him go. "You feel so good wrapped around my cock. Always knew you would," Taehyun whines out between heavy breaths.
He reached out to close his hand around your throat. Not squeezing, he just wants to feel your blood pulse beneath his fingertips. See if your heart raced the way his did. He's close, and you are too.
"I'm s-so close Tae, please keep going." You're drowning in him. Moans loud and unconcealed at this point.
"That's it," he's whispering again, savoring the moment for you both. His hips are sputtering against you, about to release. "Let go for me."
A few more thrusts and you're orgasming even harder than you did on his tongue. Taehyun's name echoes on your lips, and Soobin isn't there to swallow it this time.
Taehyun is almost disappointed. He wants to fuck you until the end of time. But your cunt clenching around him like a glove has him spilling his seed on the spot. He pulls out just in time, releasing onto your stomach and chest.
You smile up at him through your pretty eyelashes like you were waiting for an order. But not from Soobin, from him. His heart swells with pride.
Taehyun would hate to put you in a box the way Soobin has forever. But in this moment, he felt you belonged to him.
He collapses next to you on the bed, the hesitation in his mind completely eradicated as he pulls you against his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Been wanting this forever."
Soobin abruptly stands from his chair. Your heart jumps, and you're afraid of how he might react. He just watched Taehyun make love to you, and he's the one who let it happen in his own bed.
Both yours and Taehyun’s heads snap in his direction. Instinctively, Taehyun’s hand tightens around your hip, keeping you against him. Soobin’s gaze roams your body until he tears them away to meet Taehyun’s.
Soobin’s eyes soften. It’s a complete 180 from the beginning of the night. He offers Taehyun a faint, sad smile, and for once, Taehyun lets his guard down. They share a quiet nod—a moment just between them, one you don’t try to understand.
Soobin looks at you one last time. “You guys stay here, I’m gonna go get a towel.” His tone is different now, less commanding and more concerned.
Stepping away, he knew what his role was now. Not to possess you, but to care for you. To make sure you felt safe and seen. His earlier attempts at control felt hollow compared to the connection you shared with Taehyun.
As Soobin moved toward the door, he caught a glimpse of you two tangled in bed—noses brushing, lips exchanging words too soft for him to hear.
It hits him again when he closes the door.
He wasn't watching the two of you fall. You already have.
This whole time, the game was over before it had even begun.
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tags: @taebatu @yyeonbinn @binniesblep @beomgyusluver @feet4liferss @vvjolyneee @chubichubs @soo-blue @bakugosbottombitch @thegalaxyisunfolding
reblogs/comments/feedback are always appreciated <3
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4izn · 17 days ago
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(250601) BEOMGYU ✙ Weverse Con Festival
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(250502) beomgyu showing off kai's stomach
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BEOMGYU: love language
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SOOBIN: love language | music bank
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4izn · 2 months ago
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oh my god, can my girl catch a fucking break 😭😭 this is the literal definition of emotional rollercoaster
as much as i hate when the mc suffers, i really like how you captured her struggles, how she tried to push back against her depression for nari and to give her stability and all
“You get to be known. You get to be real to someone.” i also really like this quote because it shows how mc just wanted to be seen beyond her struggles and obviously it’s her kid that can give her that feeling which is SOOOO beautiful </3
“‘How have my two favorite girls been?’” this scene had me thinking nari was soobin’s lololol
when soobin tells beomgyu mc is harder to reach :((( doesn’t smile unless nari is in the room :((( i mean my poor girl had to deal with her bf leaving, abandonment issues and a pregnancy on her own
“Can we be friends, again?” when men do things right, gyu is so perfect in this fic omg, blushing and kicking my feet
“‘Beomgyu says you’re his favorite person in the world.’” i’m not even kidding i was squealing when i read this lol
“Must be a serious conversation, he figures.” LMFAOOO, i really appreciate the small moment of comedy before WRECKING ME HELLO??
“‘Did I cross a line? Say something I shouldn’t have? Did I hold you too long? Look at you too much?’” oh my god this scene !! literally could feel the tension and their emotions blowing up SO GOOD
“‘Maybe then she wouldn’t look up at me with those huge, tear-soaked eyes and ask if he ever loved her. If she wasn’t enough.’” i actually started sobbing btw
when beomgyu starts rambling about where mc wants to live and getting a dog </3 this sweet man </3 ALSO WHEN NARI CALLS HIM DAD ?? BYE
WHAT REMAINS THE SAME
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pairing: choi beomgyu x single-parent reader
On the hardest, most terrifying day of your life, when your body is tearing open and everything feels like it’s coming undone, his name is the only one your heart remembers to call for.
warnings: childhood friends, longing, romance, angst, second chance, pregnancy, set somewhere in 90s, mistakes, parenting, flashbacks, timeskips, guilt, alcohol-induced!manipulation, descriptions of giving birth, subtle signs of postpartum!d, plot heavy, pov switching, drunk in-love beomgyu (lol), abandonment, 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. this is a work of fiction.
smut!warnings: multiple-smut scenes, missionary, nipple-play, fingering, oral!fem receiving, virginity-loss.
wc: 31k — playlist
notes: hiii! took long but she's here. i've dreamt about this once, and i couldn't stop writing. while I’ve done some research to better understand what it’s like to be a mother, there may still be inaccuracies, i did my best to approach the subject with care and respect. xxx
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How does it feel to grow up with someone, know their laughter, their fears, the way their voice sounds in the dark and then never see them again?
A part of you is missing and you’re the only one who knows.
Would things be easier if there was closure?
Closure when your parents shattered whatever was left of a home, walking away like love was something that could be unlearned. Closure when you realized your dreams of college were slipping, no matter how tightly you held on. Closure when your anger turned inward—when your foot slammed into a doorframe and the only person you could blame was the one looking back in the mirror.
Would it hurt less if you had said goodbye to him? Or would it have made losing him even worse?
"Mom, I'm gonna be late!"
You hurriedly dab lipstick onto your lips, your other hand frantically smoothing down your hair, hoping it doesn’t look like a complete disaster.
"Mommy?"
"Just a second, sweetheart," you mumble, shoving the lipstick back onto the cluttered vanity before standing up to steal one last glance in the mirror. It’s not perfect. But then again, when have you ever been?
You step out of the room, each movement slower than it should be, the kind of tired that sleep can’t fix clinging to your bones. The stairs creak beneath your feet, groaning like they know how heavy it all is.
At the bottom, she’s already waiting. Your daughter, backpack snug and shoes on the wrong feet again, bouncing like the world is brand new. Her smile hits you like sunlight through a window you forgot was there... so full of life it steals the breath from your lungs.
You force a smile back. You’re getting good at that.
It’s almost cruel, how radiant she looks. Hair brushed, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with a kind of hope you haven’t felt in years. And then there’s you, barely held together, eyes raw from the night you didn’t sleep, wearing yesterday’s grief under today’s clothes.
People say kids reflect their parents. But she glows, and you… you’re flickering. And still, you kneel to tie her shoelaces. Still, you kiss her forehead and tell her she’s going to have the best day. Because even when you’re unraveling, you stitch yourself back together for her.
"You ready?"
"Aye, aye, captain!" she giggles.
You should be laughing with her, but your steps slow as your eyes catch the steady drip of the kitchen faucet. The soft plink, plink, plink echoes, a reminder of another thing left unfixed, another problem waiting for your attention.
You exhale, rubbing your temple. “Guess I’ll have to call someone to fix that… again.”
When you turn back, she’s already watching you—wide-eyed, her face painted with innocent curiosity. She doesn’t ask what’s wrong, doesn’t understand the weight of things like broken faucets, overdue bills, and work that keeps you up at night.
And you don’t want her to. Not while she can still giggle over silly things and believe the world is simple.
You double-check the locks before leaving. It’s muscle memory by now. Stove off, windows closed, doors latched tight. You scan the room one last time. You carry her to the car, buckle her in, and start the engine. The morning air is cold, the silence even colder but she fills it like she always does. Why are there more clouds today? Why are wheels round? Why is it called a car?
And you answer every question, every single one, because as long as she’s asking, you get to speak. You get to be known. You get to be real to someone. She knows your voice. She trusts it. And in her tiny, curious world, you are enough.
You remember the beginning. Those nights when she was barely one and you were… barely human. When her cries echoed through the walls and your body was too heavy with fatigue to even cry back. When no position, no lullaby, no amount of rocking made her stop and you were left wondering what you were doing wrong.
There were nights you stood in the hallway, holding her like a lifeline, tears sliding silently down your face while hers screamed out loud, both of you breaking in different languages.
But you’re here now, driving her to school, answering questions about clouds and wheels and words. You think… maybe you made it through the worst of it. You're still here, hands on the wheel, heart somewhere in the rearview mirror.
"Nari!" The booming voice cut through the air the moment you stepped out of the car, your daughter still nestled in your arms. You barely had time to turn before a familiar figure came sprinting toward you, like a man starved for something he’d only been missing a week. It made you chuckle, he always acted like it had been years since he last saw her.
"Uncle Binnie!"
Nari wriggled free, launching herself into his waiting arms. He caught her effortlessly, lifting her high before spinning her around, her laughter ringing out. Heads turned. Strangers watched. And you saw it too, the way he held her so easily, the way she clung to him, like father and daughter rather than what they really were.
You walked closer, and Soobin stretched out an arm, wordlessly inviting you in. You let him hold you, because you owed him your life.
"So," he said, his voice lighter now, as if this—this reunion, this familiarity—was as much his comfort as it was yours. His arm stayed draped around your shoulders, Nari tucked against his side. "How have my two favorite girls been?"
Nari giggled at the word favourite, her tiny hands clinging to him. "Mommy's been busy all days, uncle!"
The two of you laughed at the words your daughter. "Really? She's not playing with you?"
"Well, she plays with me still." She pouts and Soobin pinches her nose lightly. "But she's always busy."
You rest a hand on your daughter's head, gently smoothing her hair as her words settle deep inside you. After everything, you raised a child this kind, this thoughtful. A proof that you did something right. It burns in your chest.
She is the best thing that has ever happened to you.
The three of you walked toward the restaurant where Soobin had booked a reservation, his voice light as he chatted with Nari about her new teacher and the friends she’d made. You let them talk, let their voices blur into background noise as you glanced inside through the frosted windows.
Families.
Because it was Christmas.
A lump swells in your throat the moment you step inside. Parents leaning close to their children, wiping crumbs from tiny mouths, passing plates with gentle hands. Grandparents pulling little ones into their arms like gravity itself is made of love. Siblings bickering over who got more dessert, only to split the last bite anyway.
Every table holds something whole. Something complete. You hold your daughter's hand a little tighter.
You see it everywhere now, in the drop-off lines where both parents wave from the car window. In the grocery store, where dads lift kids onto their shoulders and moms scold them lovingly for grabbing too many snacks. In the tiny moments that most people take for granted, you see the shape of something you couldn’t give her.
Fate had a cruel way of making sure you never forget.
Nari was a big eater, one of the few traits she hadn’t inherited from you. She sat beside Soobin, happily digging into her food, her small hands clutching her utensils with eagerness. Meanwhile, you barely touched your plate, absently pushing the food around, taking a few bites here and there but never really eating.
Soobin noticed. "What's wrong?"
"Huh?"
His gaze softened, "Are you okay?" For some reason, his words made you smile. After all these years, he was still the most observant person you knew. Well… almost.
Because there had been someone else.
Someone who had noticed things about you without you ever having to say a word. Someone who had memorized the way your hands trembled when you were nervous. Someone that could read you in a glance, catch the shift in your breath before the words ever left your lips, but you haven’t seen him in years. Haven’t said his name out loud in even longer. And you weren’t sure if you ever would.
You weren't sure if you could.
"I am," you say, forcing the words out before glancing at Nari, watching as she happily munched on her pasta. "I guess I just don’t really like the holidays that much."
Soobin blinked, studying you for a moment before offering, "We can go watch a movie after dinner? Nari’s been wanting to see that one."
You nod, giving him another small, grateful smile. You reach for your water, ready to wash down the tightness in your throat, when he speaks again. "I also… heard."
You turn to him, brows furrowing. "Heard what?"
Soobin hesitates, his fingers gripping the edge of his fork. "He’s back in town."
Your heart stalls.
"Who?"
You shouldn’t have asked.
"Choi Beomgyu."
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"Choi Beomgyu!" you squealed as the boy snatched the paper from your hands. "Yah! Give it back!"
"Don't cry over this," he said firmly, already folding the paper before you could grab it. Effortlessly, he slung your backpack over one arm while reaching for his own, slipping the paper inside.
A paper you were sure you’d never see again.
"What would my parents think, idiot?"
"I’d just tell them you got passing marks. No way they’d believe a high score anyway—ouch, ouch! I’m sorry! Fuck!" Beomgyu yelped as you tugged at his ear, swatting weakly at your hands in protest. His ears turned red, whether from the pull or the fact that you touched him, you weren’t sure.
"You think I haven’t already tried that?" you huffed.
"Well, no," he admitted. "But your parents love me more than you—ow! I mean, I mean, they see me as their own kid!" He laughed at your pout, eyes crinkling with amusement.
"You wanna be siblings then?"
"Hell no."
You turned away at his answer, crossing your arms as you walked. The buttons of your high school uniform pressed uncomfortably into your skin, but you ignored it. Beomgyu, your best friend, immediately followed. Like he always did.
The Beomgyu magnet to Y/N.
That’s what everyone called it.
Students stared as the two of you walked, their gazes lingering a little too long. A few even called out to Beomgyu, tossing him belated "Happy 19th birthday!" greetings, nevermind that his birthday had been last week.
Maybe that was just the price of being him. The kind of popular where people scrambled for any excuse to talk to you, even if it meant getting the date wrong. He’s smart, been in the school band since forever, and unfortunately, he’s not exactly hard to look at.
Not that you’d ever say that out loud.
"You mad?" he asked beside you. You shook your head, not even looking at him. From the corner of your eye, you caught the smirk tugging at his lips. "Hungry?"
You swatted his hand away when he poked at your sides, barely listening to his words. Beomgyu didn’t get the hint or maybe he did and just didn’t care. Either way, you kept walking, your chest tight, your hands curled into fists at your sides.
That damn test paper, crumpled inside his bag like it wasn’t another reminder of your failure. Like it wasn’t proof that no matter how hard you tried, it still wasn’t enough. You stayed up late. You gave up sleep, let the words blur and the numbers dance until they made sense. And for what? A score so low it made your stomach churn. The people that said they barely studied flashed scores that were twice as high as yours. Effortless. Like success was something they were born with, something they carried in their blood while you were left clawing for scraps.
It’s pathetic, isn’t it? That the only thing you have is passion and even that can’t save you.
"Hey."
You hadn’t even noticed your best friend catching up, too lost in your own head to hear his footsteps, but now he was in front of you, walking backward to see your face, deliberately blocking your path. "Don't think about it," he said,"I told you not to."
"I wasn’t thinking about anything.",The lie barely made it past your lips. You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady, but it was useless. Especially when he was looking at with the soft eyes of his.
There are moments you catch yourself wanting to pull away from him. Not because he did anything wrong—the opposite, really. He’s everything you’re not. He barely studies but still gets by with decent grades, he’s effortlessly good at almost everything, like life just hands him a script and he nails it every time. And you hate that it gets to you. You wanted to pull away from him.
How do you resent someone who’s never done anything but shine?
"Y/N," His eyes searched yours. "You look like you're about to cry."
You blinked at his words, but they don’t surprise you anymore. Beomgyu has always been seeing you. You clear your throat, a flimsy attempt to steady yourself, but he’s still looking at you. Still seeing too much. And then it happens—the slightest sniff, barely there, but he catches it.
"Can we go now?" Your voice trembles, and the second it does, his eyes widen just a little, something unreadable flashing across them. When he sees the gloss in yours, he reaches for you, fingers wrapping safely around your wrist.
"Come on," he murmurs, tugging you forward. You let him, swallowing back the lump in your throat, willing yourself not to fall apart here.
Not in front of everyone.
Being the daughter of a family of eleven, no one expected much from you. You were just another name in a crowded house, another body squeezed into too little space. School was a luxury, not a necessity. No one thought you’d make it past middle school.
Except your mother.
She saw the way your fingers traced the edges of worn-out textbooks, the way your eyes lingered on words you barely understood but desperately wanted to. And she let you chase that dream, even when it meant stretching what little you had even thinner.
"Hard work never betrays you," they say. But they never tell you how much it can hurt, because what do you do when you give everything; your nights, your energy, your hope, only to fall short? How are you supposed to believe in effort when all it leaves you with is failure?
"Stop sniffing, Y/N!" Choi Soobin snaps, his half-eaten lunch sitting in front of him on the makeshift mat spread across the school rooftop. "Seriously, it's driving me crazy."
You press your handkerchief to your nose again, trying to stay quiet. It’s lunchtime, but your food stays untouched. Just the thought of eating turns your stomach.
"Maybe stop talking with your mouth full," Beomgyu cuts in, not even bothering to look up. Then he glances at Soobin and adds, flatly, "And don’t yell at her."
"I'm just so pissed about that teacher giving her such a low score. Did you see her essay? It was her best one yet, she did so good!" the taller boy grumbles, pouting as he reaches over to pinch your cheek gently.
Your eyes—still a little red—meet his. “I know, right? I did my best.” you say, voice cracking just before the tears start all over again.
Beomgyu clicked his tongue, giving Soobin’s leg a light kick. “You made her cry again,” he muttered, shaking his head as he reached for your unopened lunchbox and popped it open like it was routine. He was already unscrewing your water bottle when Soobin, without a word, placed a tempura on top of your rice, his quiet way of saying sorry.
You wiped at your eyes, the ache in your chest softening just a little at the sight. When Beomgyu handed you your utensils, you took them without hesitation.
The universe didn’t give you everything you wanted but it tried to make up for it by giving you two people.
Everyone had gone back to eating. You reached for your food, slowly scooping the rice balls your mother had packed. Then, you glanced to your right. Your tear-streaked eyes—now lighter—and your mouth still full of rice met Choi Beomgyu’s gaze.
His eyes now filled with relief.
You forget little things all the time; where you left your pen, what day it is, one thing your mom asked you to grab from the market, but somehow, no matter how much time passes, you'll never forget the day you met your best friend.
You met Choi Beomgyu in kindergarten, when you were barely six years old. It wasn’t one of those storybook friendships that happened overnight. You just knew that the other kids were always too loud, too messy, too much and Beomgyu, was the only one who wasn’t. He was quiet. He didn’t try too hard. And then one day, your teacher asked the boys to choose a girl for the class dance. Without a word, Beomgyu walked straight to you. When you asked him why, he shrugged and said, “You don’t annoy me as much.”
It wasn’t exactly poetic but, it felt like the start of something that would last.
The only reason the friendship ever started was because neither of you found the other annoying. That was it. A comfort in each other’s presence. And somehow, that small reason stretched into something that lasted over a decade.
You grew up like that, orbiting each other through school days, lazy summer nights and wordless understandings. Eventually, people stopped calling you just friends. You were best friends. Branded, known. His name was a permanent fixture in your mouth; yours was stitched into every part of his life. His house felt like a second home. His mother always smiled a little softer when you came over, brushing your hair back like you were hers. Beomgyu’s older brother loved teasing him but was always strangely gentle with you.
It was rare to see one of you without the other.
Middle school was when you really noticed it—how Beomgyu started to change. He got louder. Braver. Started laughing with people you'd never seen him talk to before. His circle widened almost overnight. More guy friends, more inside jokes you didn’t quite understand, more people calling his name in the hallway. He picked up a guitar one day and never really put it down after that. It made you scared that he'll change with you too.
But he didn’t. Not once.
He still waited for you after class. Still leaned in to place his head on your shoulders when he was bored, still flicked your forehead lightly just to see you scowl. Still remembered the exact way you liked your ramen, and still offered the last bite even though he pretended not to care. And when someone tried to mess with you once—a cruel joke whispered too loud—Beomgyu didn’t even hesitate. He was there before you could even speak, standing in front of you like a wall you didn’t ask for.
Protective in a way that made your chest ache.
By the time middle school ended, the whispers had started. Are they dating? They’re always together. They have to be something.
You heard it all—in the hallways, behind half-closed locker doors, in the sharp glances thrown your way from girls when you and Beomgyu laughed like the world only existed for the two of you. It made something twist in your chest you got scared, unsure. You didn’t know what you were supposed to feel, or what he felt, or if either of you were even allowed to change the shape of what you’d always been.
So, just for a day, you pulled away.
You ignored him, let your eyes pass over him like he wasn’t there, didn’t wait at the gate like you always did, didn’t answer his questions. It wasn’t meant to hurt him. It was supposed to be space.
And that day, was the first time you ever saw Choi Beomgyu cry.
You never dared again.
In a house full of noise, with siblings, all louder and needier than you, it was easy to feel invisible. Your voice always got lost, your victories overlooked, and your sadness mistaken for silence.
Beomgyu saw you.
Where your family’s attention scattered, he gave you his wholly. He noticed when you were quiet, asked when no one else did. Remembered things no one bothered to learn. The way you preferred your socks mismatched. The way your hands trembled when you were overwhelmed. The way you lit up, just a little, when someone said your name.
With that kind of attention, it made you feel like you and him, alone, were enough.
High school brought a lot of changes. New uniforms, new hallways, new people. And Choi Soobin. The quietest boy you’d ever met. Kind in a way that didn’t demand attention. Always alone, always lingering just outside the crowd, like he hadn’t figured out how to step inside yet. It wasn’t you who invited him. It was Beomgyu.
“He looks lonely,” he’d said one afternoon, watching Soobin trail behind the rest of the class. “Let’s have lunch with him.”
And slowly, Soobin bloomed. Around the two of you, he laughed louder, smiled wider, filled space with stories and inside jokes and that rich, echoing laugh with his dimples that made everything feel a little warmer.
It was beautiful, watching him come alive, because you knew that feeling. You knew what it was to bloom like that.
You, too, bloomed because of Choi Beomgyu.
"You don’t like it?" Beomgyu asks, noticing the frown tugging at your face. His brows pull together in concern. "Why’d you go for that weird flavour?"
The two of you are walking side by side, the street quiet except for the sound of your footsteps. You’d said goodbye to Soobin five minutes ago, he lived on the other side of town, and his path had already veered off.
"It looked interesting," you mumble, pouting as you glance at Beomgyu taking a bite of his strawberry ice cream, one you’ve never seen him pick before. "It tastes awful, Gyu."
He laughs at the frustration in your voice, reaching out with his right hand for the lavender ice cream you picked on a whim. You hand it over without protest, eyes hopeful.
"You give in way too easily, with sales talk." When he offers his strawberry cone in exchange, you grin, already tasting victory. "That one's way too sweet anyway."
"Then why’d you get it?"
Beomgyu shrugs, eyes on the sidewalk. "Because it’s your favourite," he says simply. "And just in case you hated yours."
His words warmed your cheeks even as you keep your eyes forward. You keep walking, heart thudding a little too loudly in your chest, footsteps in sync with his like they’ve always been. You stay close to the edge of the sidewalk, careful not to drift too near. Beomgyu walks beside you, his hand swinging lazily at his side, fingers occasionally brushing against the fabric of his uniform pants. So casual. So unaware of how close he is.
And all you can think about is that space between you.
What would he do if you reached out and held his hand?
"No, Mom!"
Your attention shifts to a wailing child as you near the familiar playground you both pass every time you walk home. The kid is mid-meltdown, clearly not ready to leave, while his mother looks like she’s holding on by a thread. You scoff, shaking your head. "I don’t think I’ll ever be a mom. I can’t stand kids." A laugh bubbles out from beside you. You roll your eyes, already knowing who it’s from.
"Stop laughing," you mutter. He does but the grin stays, soft and a little amused. You catch him looking at you.
"What?"
"Nothing," he says, still smiling. "Just pictured a tiny version of you throwing a tantrum like that."
"As if."
“Do you want to swing for a bit?” he sways the conversation, nodding toward the playground.
You blink. “Huh?”
“The swings,” he says again, a bit more softly this time. “I can push you.” You glance over, surprised, but his expression is sincere, almost serious in that way Beomgyu gets when something small matters more than it should. And you remember…how you both used to love this.
“Okay,” you murmur, “Sure.”
The playground is mostly empty now. The crying child from earlier is gone, carried away by a tired mother. A few scattered voices float in the breeze, but it’s peaceful, quiet enough to hear the rustling of trees, the soft creak of the swing chains. From here, you can see the lower half of the town, rooftops glowing under the setting sun, like something out of a memory.
You finish the last bite of your ice cream, sit down on the swing, and feel his hands gently press against your back. "You ready?"
For a while, he says nothing after that. Just pushes you with that soft kind of attention he’s always had—like you’re something delicate he’s afraid to damage. Every time you glance back at him, he’s already looking at you, smiling.
You think it's because your smile is too wide to hide.
The breeze dances through your hair, and the sun dips lower, casting everything in gold, and when you look back at him again, his hair tousled by the wind, his eyes soft, his face glowing in that dying light; your breath catches.
He’s beautiful. He's always been beautiful. In the way he’s always looked at you.
“Y/N.” The sun has dipped. It’s been about thirty minutes since you first sat down. Beomgyu now sits on the swing next to yours, feet dragging lightly against the gravel, head bowed like he’s studying the way his fingers twist together.
You glance at him. “Hm?”
“I… I have to tell you something.” His eyes stay fixed on his hands.
You try to lighten the mood, like you always do when he gets like this, “You need anything?” you tease, nudging his foot with yours. “Is that why you pushed me off the swings earlier?” He lets out a short, breathless laugh, but his eyes never meet yours.
“I— I’m going out of the country.”
“Oh, wow,” you say, perking up. “That sounds amazing! It’s your first time, right? Who would’ve thought you’d be getting on a plane before me? Where are you going? How long’s the vacation? Are you gonna—"
You stop mid-sentence. He’s finally looking at you, and there’s something in his expression that makes your heart sink. “What’s wrong?” you ask, quieter now.
“I’m not going on vacation,” he says. “I’m moving. For college. My parents got this opportunity… it was all kind of sudden. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
You stare at him.
Leaving. He’s leaving.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is small. It barely carries over the creak of the swings, but it’s enough, enough to make Beomgyu go still.
You don’t know why that’s the first thing you said. Maybe because it’s easier than saying please don’t go. Your hands are freezing, even though it’s not that cold out. It’s the way your whole body feels hollow now, like something vital’s been yanked out of you. You remember the stories—the ones your classmates whisper like warnings.
People who leave this town don’t come back.
The thought of him leaving terrified you.
Beomgyu shifts in the swing beside you, the chains rattling. “Y/N, I… I didn’t know how. Everything happened so fast and I—” When he finally looks at you, you wish he hadn’t. There’s guilt written all over his face. It makes you feel worse.
“You still should’ve told me.” You grab your bag, his hands flinch as you pull it from them, and you’re already on your feet. You take it without meeting his eyes. “I’m going home.”
He says your name, again and again, but you’re already walking. Fast. Like if you stop, it’ll all hit you at once and you’ll break apart right there in front of him.
You don’t look back.
Because you know if you do, you’ll beg him to stay.
You slipped through the front door of your home without a sound. It was too easy, when no one really looked at you long enough to see the redness in your eyes.
Your family wasn’t rich but they managed to rent a house with just enough space to pretend everyone had their own corner. Yours was the storage room. Barely wide enough for a mattress, with walls that breathed dust and silence. But it was yours. Four claustrophobic walls and a door you could close on everything else. You dropped your bag and sat on the floor. The mattress creaked behind you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, blinking hard against the tears that threatened again.
This was the one place where it was safe to fall apart other than in front of him.
It’s been hours since you got home. Hours since you last your best friend. Since he told you he was leaving.
At first, you were angry. Furious, even. You buried your face in your pillow and cried like it would undo the words he’d said. It felt like betrayal. You kept thinking: Why didn’t he tell you sooner? He’d told you everything before. Every stupid little secret. Every bad decision. Every dream. And this—this—he kept quiet.
But anger doesn’t last. Not when it’s him.
Why did you react like that? Why couldn’t you have just smiled and said, I’m happy for you? What kind of best friend gets upset when someone they love is finally getting out?
Because of all people—he deserves to leave this town.
He’s always dreamed bigger than these cracked sidewalks and dead-end streets. Always reached for something more while you stayed tethered to what’s familiar. He’s leaving you. You wipe your eyes again, though it’s useless. The tears keep coming, your body hasn’t figured out how to stop grieving yet. You’ll apologize tomorrow. The moment the sun rises. You’ll tell him you were wrong. That you’re proud of him. That you’ll miss him more than he’ll ever know.
Because he deserves that.
You’ll apologize tomorrow... tomorrow?
The thought tastes wrong in your mouth. What if tomorrow is too late?
You sit up suddenly, heart pounding. The clock reads 9:04 PM. You listened outside, the house is still. Silent. You know the rhythm of your family’s sleep—light snorers, tired bones, people who won’t notice you’re gone as long as you're quiet. You grab your jacket, moving carefully across the creaking floorboards. Your door opens with a whisper. One cautious step, then another, and you're at the front door, fingers trembling slightly as they find the lock.
The outside air is cool against your skin as you crack the door open. But just as you take a step out, you freeze.
Across the street, lit faintly by the orange glow of the nearest streetlamp, someone sits on the pavement. Legs stretched out, hands buried deep in the pockets of a hoodie you know too well.
Choi Beomgyu.
Your breath catches in your throat.
“Hi, pretty.”
“You—” A curse almost slips out, but you bite it back, glancing toward the hallway behind you. You lower your voice. “What the hell are you doing here? What if I didn’t come out, idiot?”
The furrow in his brow from earlier is gone now, replaced by that familiar boyish grin, the one that always makes it harder to stay mad.
“But you did come out,” he says simply. He rises from the pavement with that lazy ease he always carries, brushing his hands on his jeans before holding them out—open, waiting—but he doesn’t move toward you. Just stands there. Looking at you like he knew you’d come. Like he hoped you would. You hear it in the quiet expectant look on his face. Come here.
And you do.
Your feet move before your mind catches up, closing the distance between you and him. Without a word, you wrap your arms around his waist, his arms are already around you before your face finds the safety of his chest. He pulls you in tighter, like he's afraid that if he doesn't hold you close enough, you’ll disappear too.
Beomgyu leans down, buries his face in your hair, and breathes in—one deep, shaking inhale that sounds like worry, like guilt, like relief all tangled into one. Because he was.
“I knew you’d come out,” he whispers. His voice is soft, cracking at the edges, and it breaks something in you. Your eyes sting immediately. “I’m sorry,” he adds.
You pull back reluctantly, almost having to pry yourself from his arms because he doesn’t loosen his grip right away. When you finally look up at him, your voice is barely above a whisper. “No… I’m the one who’s sorry.”
He’s staring at you now, like you’re something fragile in his hands. His gaze scans your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize every flicker of emotion before it fades. His left arm stays wrapped around you, grounding you, while his right hand comes up, gently cupping your face. His palm is warm. Familiar. It fits too perfectly against your skin. You’ve always been close to him. But this—this feels like a different kind of closeness, and you can’t look away.
Not when he’s looking at you like this.
Not when the soft, slow stroke of his thumb across your cheek sends shivers through your chest, makes your breath hitch and your heart stutter.
Is it because he's leaving?
“Have you been crying?” he whispers, voice is barely there, like he’s afraid to ask, afraid to know the answer. His hand stays warm on your face, thumb trailing just beneath your eye. He’s not wiping tears—there are none left—but it’s like he can feel where they were, tracing. “Have you?” he asks again, softer this time.
You try to look away, but his hand gently guides you back, eyes locked onto yours. Your voice comes out in a breath, cracked and small. “It was my fault.”
“No,” he interrupts, voice thick, eyes glassy. “I don’t want to leave you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes, the burn behind them almost unbearable now. He pulls back just enough to kiss your forehead. Another lands gently on the bridge of your nose. You’re still, barely breathing, as his lips hover close to yours. “I’ve been in love with you for years,”
Your eyes flew open. “What?”
“Did you really not see it?” His voice cracked. “That I’m completely, stupidly in love with you?”
You shook your head, stunned, your cheeks burning despite the ache swelling in your chest.
“God,” he breathed, pulling you into him, “it’s taking everything in me not to kiss you right now.”
His arms tightened around you, desperate. “Since you didn't hear me out earlier, I'll say it now. I swear I’ll come back. As soon as I can. I’ll come for you. I'll make it up to you. You better be ready—I want your bags packed the second I show up. I made Soobin promise to walk you home every day, because I know how easily your mind wanders and it drives me insane.”
You clutched his shirt, the tears finally breaking free. “I’ll wait for you,” you whispered, voice wrecked as you cried. “I promise.”
He pressed his lips to your hair. “Good.”
“And Gyu?” you murmured, voice muffled against his chest. He hummed in response, arms still wrapped tightly around you, your face pressed against the fabric of his shirt, breathing him. “I’ve been in love with you too,”
You didn’t have to see his face—you’ve known him for thirteen years. You felt the way his whole body stilled for a second, then melted, like the words filled something he hadn’t dared to hope for. You knew he was grinning, that crooked, boyish grin that always made your heart trip. He pulled you impossibly closer, like he wanted to fuse you into him.
And under the soft, flickering lamplight, it’s the kind of scene that belongs in a movie. Two teenagers, holding on like the world might tear them apart the second they let go. Two hearts beating too loud, too fast.
Hopelessly, breathlessly in love.
When Beomgyu pulled away from the hug, his eyes flicked to the door of your house. You were meant to go inside but his expression asked you to stay. You slipped your fingers into his.
“Can I come with you?”
He didn’t even hesitate. He never could, not with you. Maybe it was the quiet defiance of it, or maybe it was the way things had shifted—how it suddenly felt like you were his, and he was yours. The truth that the two of you belonged to each other now. He reaches out, his hands waiting for yours.
It only took a second when you did.
That night, you didn’t walk into the comfort of him home, or the usual warmth of his family’s greetings. You followed him up to his room, quietly.
He made sure you were comfortable, tucking you in gently before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll just turn off the lights,” he murmured, his voice low.
You shifted onto the left side of the bed, heart thudding as you waited. Every creak of the mattress as he moved made your breath catch. The bed dipped with his weight, and you held your breath, listening to the quiet rustle of sheets and the sound of your own pulse pounding in your ears. "Beomgyu?" you whispered.
His response was immediate. “You need something?”
You hesitated, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. “Can you… hold me?”
Two strong arms snaked around your waist as soon as you said those words, and Beomgyu's lips were against your nape. He left trails of kisses on your neck up to the back of your ears, his body pressed on yours. "I thought you'd never ask."
You giggle, breathless, and he laughs too, warm against your skin. He presses a few more soft kisses to the back of your head, then his voice drops to a whisper against your ear. “Can I touch you?”
Your breath hitches, but you nod. His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers brushing lightly across your stomach. “This okay?” he asks, voice gentle.
You nod again, barely able to get the word out. “Yeah.”
His hand travels higher, fingertips gliding up until they meet the bare curve of your chest. He pauses, just long enough to make your heart race. His lips are at your neck now, breath hot. “This okay too?”
When he feels you nod, his hand moves with more purpose, fingertips gliding over the curve of your breast. He cups you fully, palm warm, thumb brushing the softness, squeezing just enough to make you arch subtly into his touch. He teases, exploring everywhere except where you need him most, drawing out the ache with every careful touch. When his fingers finally graze your nipple, a quiet moan slips from your lips before you can stop it. He pauses, his breath brushing against your neck. “You can tell me to stop anytime, okay?”
Then he pulls his hand away from under your shirt, and the sudden absence makes you whine, your body instinctively chasing after his warmth. Before you can speak, he cups your face gently, tilting your head until your eyes meet. It’s dark—but he's close, so close—you can make out the shape of his face, the softness in his gaze.
He leans in, brushing a featherlight kiss over your lips. Then another. You giggle softly, breath mingling, and when your lips part in a smile, he takes it as invitation. This time the kiss is deep—hungry. His mouth moves against yours with desperation, like he’s been craving your taste for far too long. His hand finds your waist, tugging you closer, bodies aligning in all the right ways as the heat between you builds.
“I need you, Gyu,” you whisper, voice barely there, lost in the way his lips trail along your neck, warm and wet. “Please.”
He pauses just enough to meet your gaze, then his hand slips between your thighs, cupping you through the fabric. The pressure makes your hips jerk, breath hitching.
“Here?” he murmurs, rubbing slow, teasing circles. “You need me here?”
It’s too much, and not enough. Heat pools low in your belly, a need that feels raw and overwhelming. You nod, biting your lip, your voice trembling. “Yes. There. Please.”
He groans, low and deep, and that’s when clothes start disappearing—slowly, messily. Every layer peeled off is interrupted by his mouth; on your lips, your jaw, your collarbones. His hands, greedy and gentle all at once, explore you like he’s memorizing every inch. The room is filled with nothing but breath, the soft rustle of fabric, the occasional hitch of a moan. It takes time—because he makes it take time. Like he wants to savour the reveal, like he’s waited too long to see you like this and now he refuses to rush. He holds and touches you, like your mother made you just for him.
When he finally sinks lower, eyes locked on yours as his lips trace a burning path down your body, you don’t stop him.
“Beomgyu…” You moaned as you clenched your fist on his dark locks. His tongue was doing to your buds as his fingers part your wet folds. You don't know what it is, but it makes your legs quivered as his tongue lapped at your entrance.
Beomgyu grunts as he hears your soft moans, sucking on your clit to hear more. Your taste in his mouth got him drunk as he shook his head from side to side, making your moans go higher as you moved your hips to grind your wetness on his tongue. "Hmm?"
He pulled back, replacing his tongue with his thumb, rubbing her wet clit as he kissed and sucked your inner thighs. Your eyes rolled back as your chest rose up and down, glistening with sweat.
You're fucking beautiful. Beomgyu thought as he looked up at you with hooded eyes. Your lachrymose eyes met his. The sight of your blushing cheeks, eyes asking for more with your lips between your teeth made Beomgyu slightly rut his hips on the bed.
"You'll come back for me, right?" He pumped a finger inside your pussy, curling it to hit your spot as he put his mouth back to work again, flattening his tongue over your swollen pearl before flicking it with the tip. You cried out in pleasure, throwing your head back.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I just couldn't help myself.” He begged as he doubled the finger inside your soaking cunt, making you cry out in pleasure as your hands grabbed the pillow under your head. "I will. I can't live without you."
“I can't resist having all of you.” He kissed your clit, making you whimper at the brief contact. He took off his shirt and pants before pulling you by your arm, sitting you on his lap as he took off your blouse and bra. He kissed around your nipple before taking it into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you.
It’s crazy how you went from crying to rubbing against each other, but both have been craving for this. And now, the situation of him leaving only made his hunger for you increase. Beomgyu thought of everything he could do to show you how sincere he was and how much he loves you. He wanted you to know that you were the only woman he’ll ever touch like this. That he'll come back, that this decision wasn't something he ever wanted. And the growing tent in his boxers is also aching to prove that.
He moved your position to grind on his bulge, letting out quiet moans as he desperately kissed you. He stopped your hips as he moved to your other nipple, lightly biting it while staring at your glossy eyes, making your breath hitch. He hummed as he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, nibbling on it. Once satisfied, he laid your back down, admiring your body as you panted. Your eyes are glistening, and so is your cunt. He groaned at the sight, pushing his hair back and taking his erected member out of its confinement. He pumped it a few times before you sat up and took it into your hand.
“Let me make you feel good.” Beomgyu stopped your hand, giving a kiss on your forehead. “Fuck.” He murmured as he moved to your lips, sucking on them, making you whimper as you laid back down again.
“Beomgyu, please…” You cried when Beomgyu started to rub his shaft on your slit. Every time his head hits her bud, you let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide as you look up at him.
Beomgyu took his time, grunting before pushing the tip inside. You gasped, grabbing the sheets under, feeling the pain as his length invade you. Your walls fluttered around his cock, making him let out low growls. You felt tears in your eyes as you watched half of his length disappear inside you. Beomgyu took your hand, intertwining your fingers. He kissed your tears.
“Just a little more, love.” Beomgyu shushed when you hissed, feeling a hint of pain as he filled you. His other hand began rubbing circles on your clit to ease the burn from the stretch.
Beomgyu kissed your hand when he was entirely in, giving you time to adjust. You look gorgeous underneath him. Legs wide open,mouth slightly parted, and body glistening under the dim lights of his room. You're all his, and he would never let himself fuck up. He would never let himself do something stupid. He'll come back to you as soon as he can, the thought of you waiting burns him.
Beomgyu started moving slowly when you nod your head, until your whimpers turned into moans. His name echoed in whispers, as you clawed on the skin of his back, leaving red marks. He was cradling your head, and his lips pressed on your ear. He was whispering the sweetest things to you.
“You’re the only one I’d fuck like this, baby. You’re the only one I’d touch like this.” Beomgyu growled, kissing your ear lobes.
“Yes, yes, Beomgyu, please…” You begged as his hips started to thrust harder into you.
“Fuck. You’re the only one I’d make love to, Y/N.” He groaned, feeling your walls clench around him. He could tell that you were both close. Your walls spasmed around him, and his thrust started to stutter.
“I love you and only you. So fucking much.” He stared deeply into your eyes, feeling your orgasm take over your body. His mouth reaches for your sweet lips, your toes curling as your legs wrap around his waist. Beomgyu thrustied into you a few more times before pulling out to spill his thick load on your thighs. He wouldn’t trade you for the world.
After, Beomgyu became the shyiest guy in the world. He silently blushed, cleaned you up before getting under the covers with you.
“I love you,” He started, as he ran his fingers down your back before resting on the lower part of it, pulling you to his chest.
“I love you, Beomgyu.”
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“Do you have any plans?” your mother asks softly, her voice barely cutting through the clatter of her hands preparing a lunchbox. You’re in front of the mirror, running your fingers through your hair.
“Plans for what?” you finally say, eyes fixed on your own reflection—not really seeing it.
“It’s your… twentieth birthday.” Your hand pauses mid-motion.
You clear your throat and force a shrug, “Oh. Right.”
She watches as you fumble with the buttons on your blouse, your fingers too stiff, too fast. She sees the shadows beneath your eyes and sighs. “You should take it easy, sweetheart.”
“I am,” you lie, “I just have work. And… I don’t know.” You reach for the lunchbox she’s packed. Transparent. Eggs again. You swallow hard, the sight alone making your stomach twist.
“I’ll get going,” you murmur, already turning away. You don’t meet her eyes. You can’t. Not when you know she’s still watching you—worried, helpless. And not when you’ve gotten so good at pretending it doesn’t matter.
After high school, it wasn’t a shock, you knew college was never in the cards for you. No dramatic moment of realization. Just reality. So here you are, a year later, on your way to work… and you didn’t even remember today was your birthday.
He would’ve remembered. He never missed it.
You shake the thought off like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t stick to the inside of your ribs. You offer stiff smiles to your coworkers as you clock in, grabbing the stack of flyers assigned to you for the day. Real estate. That’s what they call it. What you do is stand outside in the sun, in the cold, in the wind—shoving these papers into passing hands, hoping someone actually cares enough to look.
Most don’t.
But then again… who would take someone like you seriously? Who would even want someone like you?
“Here. It’s on promo today,” you say, holding out the flyer with rehearsed cheer. “You can get ten percent off the down payment if you sign today, and there's a—”
“I’ll do it,” the man cuts in, eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. On you, not the paper.
You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, great,” you say, managing a small smile. Finally. Something good. Maybe you can actually afford to eat something real tonight. Maybe even bring some back for your mom.
“If you sleep with me. One night.” You freeze. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the flyer. You don’t look at him right away—you’re afraid if you do, you’ll either throw up or scream.
“I’ll pay extra,” he adds, as if this is just another business transaction. As if your dignity has a price tag. Your jaw clenches. Slowly, you snatch the flyer back from his hand, crumpling it in your grip.
“Go to hell,” you mutter. You don’t even look back as you turn around, heart pounding—not from fear, not entirely. From exhaustion. From disgust. From the unbearable weight of this being your life. You exhale shakily, trying to bury the sting in your throat.
You thought today couldn’t get worse. But that’s the thing, isn’t it?
Every day’s been worse since.
After that encounter, you had to pull yourself together, force a smile like nothing happened, like the words didn’t stick to your skin and crawl under it. You kept handing out flyers with trembling hands and a voice that cracked more than once. But no one noticed. No one ever does.
You whispered it like a prayer. Please—just one sale. Just one. If there’s anything left out there for you—anyone listening—let today be enough. It’s your birthday, for god’s sake. Let that mean something.
Not a single sale.
Now you’re on the subway, back hunched against the hard plastic seat, eyes locked on the floor like if you move, you’ll shatter. The carriage rocks, people come and go, and still, you sit there, numb.
Your eyes sting, but the tears won’t fall. They never do. Not anymore. Because nothing hurts more than the ache that’s lived inside you for the past year. It's a wound that learned how to stop bleeding and just started swallowing you whole instead.
You pulled out your wallet and started counting what little was left. Bills folded too many times, coins barely enough to matter. You stared at the total for a second, then let out a quiet sigh. Fuck it. A drink won’t fix anything but it’ll help you tonight. You took a different bus route tonight.
The pub is dim, you step inside quietly, hoping not to draw attention. You don’t belong here, but you don’t belong anywhere these days. You could be anyone: a woman with a broken heart, a woman who just lost her job, a woman trying not to fall apart in public. All of them could be true. None of them are far off. You’re still in your work clothes. The blouse is wrinkled, two buttons undone. Your hair’s half-up, half-forgotten, and the look on your face probably says enough to keep people away. You don’t care. You head straight to the bar and order something strong, sitting alone at a stool like it’s the only place left in the world that doesn’t expect anything from you.
"I will. I can’t live without you."
Your breath stutters. The glass trembles slightly in your hand. You almost choke on the drink as the tears sting again—too cruel. You press your lips together and wipe your face quickly, like that’ll stop the pain. You need to leave. Now. Before you break down in front of strangers.
You slide off the stool, heart pounding, eyes glassy ut then the stool beside yours shifts.
“Hi, pretty.”
You freeze. You turn your head slowly, hope rising in your chest before you can stop it—hope that maybe, somehow—
It’s not him.
“Jaehyun,” you say, forcing your features to settle. He noticed the flicker of disappointment in your eyes, the way it sparked and died all in the same breath. You remember him. A batchmate. Schoolmate. Someone who never really talked to you back then.
“What are you doing here all alone?” he asks, already gesturing to the bartender for two drinks.
You shake your head quickly. “No, I’m good.”
He grins, “Come on, just one. I’ve missed you.”
You almost laugh. Bitterness curling behind your teeth like smoke. Missed you? He didn’t even know you. You were never close. You never even talked outside of borrowed notes and hallway nods. And now, here he is, like proximity to your sadness gives him permission to touch it.
Does he miss you too?
You look down at your drink, the ice already melting. “That’s funny,” you mutter, just loud enough.
“What is?”
“You missed me?” you echo, eyebrows raised, voice flat. “We barely spoke in school. Is that a new pick-up line or something?” Your eyes meet his, tired and unamused. You expect him to get defensive, maybe roll his eyes and leave. Part of you even hopes he does. But instead, he laughs.
“Well, sorry,” he says, shrugging, “but you should know, I had this terrible, massive crush on you back then.”
You blink in surprise. He goes on. “Except… Choi Beomgyu basically told me to back off in second year. Guy was obsessed with you.”
Your stomach twists. Choi Beomgyu. You look away, suddenly too aware of your own breathing. The room feels louder, smaller.
Choi Beomgyu that you haven't heard back anything since the day he left.
“He told you that?” you manage to say, voice thinner now, almost brittle.
Jaehyun hums like it’s nothing, like he didn’t just drop a grenade into your chest. “Yeah. Said you weren’t really available. Emotionally or otherwise.” He chuckles. “Dude looked ready to murder me, so I backed off.”
You stare into your glass, watching the light catch on the melted ice. The burn in your throat isn’t just from the alcohol anymore, it’s from everything you’ve buried just to stay standing.
Beomgyu wrote you, at first. The first month after he left, letters came; messy handwriting, little jokes scribbled in the margins, lines that made you cry in secret because he still sounded like yours. His I love yous. And you clung to that. But then… nothing.
You kept writing anyway. Hundreds of letters. You told him everything—about your new job, about how hard things had gotten, about the nights you couldn’t sleep, about how it felt like something inside you was cracking open just from missing him. You even wrote when you were sick, when you thought, maybe this will scare him enough to write back. Still nothing.
You gave him the benefit of the doubt. Told yourself maybe he lost your address. Maybe life got too loud. Maybe something happened. Maybe. But denial only holds you together for so long. One month passed. Then one year. And the silence became an answer you never asked for. You remember checking the mailbox every day like clockwork. Standing there in your pajamas with bare feet on cold tile, praying for something—anything—with his name on it. There was even a day you went to the post office, hands trembling, convinced the letters must’ve gotten stuck somewhere, misplaced, waiting.
But there was nothing.
And now you're outside the pub, crying. You're a mess, knees drawn to your chest on the dim pavement, makeup smudged, throat raw from holding back too long. Drunk, heartbroken. And Jaehyun, this man you barely know, is looking at you like you're shattering.
“Fuck him,” he mutters, his fists clenching at his sides like that might help. “Forget about him, Y/N.” He crouches beside you, his hand awkwardly pressing to your shoulder, trying to comfort you. You barely feel it. Everything inside you is too loud.
Choi Beomgyu.
His name beats in your chest.
“I hate seeing you like this,” Jaehyun says, his voice tightening. “I backed off because of that asshole. And now look. He left. He hurt you. He’s probably living some perfect fucking life while you’re here… like this.”
Choi Beomgyu.
You miss him. You need him.
You can’t say anything. You just keep crying—ugly, silent sobs that make your shoulders shake. There’s nothing left to hold together. Nothing left to explain. No one to explain it to. Your other half isn't here.
Jaehyun’s voice softens, “Stop crying,” he whispers, too close. “You don't deserve this. He forgot you, Y/N. He lied, he's an asshole."
"Come with me. I’ll make you forget him.”
Choi Beomgyu. He'll never come back to you.
Jaehyun reaches out his hand. And just like that, you’re back to that night, back to the night your best friend confessed. You lifted your eyes, only to see his face instead. The man in front of you waves his hand again.
It took long for you to give your hands.
It only takes one decision.
One misstep. One reckless breath you don’t take back in time. People don’t believe that—not really. They think life builds slow, that it gives you warnings, but sometimes, it just tips. One turn down the wrong street. One answer you shouldn’t have given. One goodbye you didn’t mean and suddenly, the shape of your life is different. You think you’re being careful. You think you’re being brave. You think you’re doing the right thing, but the future isn’t some distant, untouchable thing. It's sitting in your hands, waiting for you to move. To decide. Pressed into your palms, like wet clay. You could mold it into anything. Or crush it without meaning to.
You don’t always know which one you’ve done until it’s here.
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"You'll take care of yourself, right?" Beomgyu's voice cracks, his lips tremble like they’re holding back everything he doesn’t want to say. His hands cup your face so gently it hurts.
You nod. It’s all you can manage. Your throat is tight, your eyes sting, "I will. I promise."
Behind him, his family waits, luggage in hand, eyes heavy with knowing. The gate is just a few feet away, and it draws a line. A line you can’t follow. A future you’re not invited to.
Beomgyu leans in, kissing you like he's trying to leave pieces of himself behind. A kiss to your forehead. Your nose. Your cheeks. Your lips. "I love you," he says. And somehow, despite the chaos of the airport, the overhead announcements, the rushing footsteps—you hear it. You hear it.
He grips his passport tighter, knuckles white, like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. He looks at you one last time—eyes burning, jaw clenched—and then he lets go. His hands leave your skin, and something inside you goes with them.
He turns to Soobin, standing behind you, silent and teary-eyed. His voice is low, almost pleading. "Take care of her."
Then he walks away.
You bite your lip hard, tasting salt and copper, as the tears spill freely now. Soobin’s hand rests on your shoulder, but it does nothing to soothe the storm inside you.
Because he's walking away. His figure grows smaller and smaller, swallowed by distance and the sharp fluorescent lights of the terminal.
Then—he stops. He turns around.
And you see it, fresh tears carving down his cheeks. He looks at you. He looks like he wants to run back to you. You shouldn’t be surprised. Not with Beomgyu. Not with the way he loves; loud, reckless, and all at once. He throws his head back, chest heaving, and yells so loud the entire terminal stills:
"I’LL COME BACK FOR YOU!"
You wake with a jolt, gasping like you’ve just surfaced from drowning. Sweat clings to your skin, your forehead slick, and his voice—those last shouted words—still echo like sirens in your ears. You press your palms into your face, trying to ground yourself, but your stomach twists violently. Before you can even think, you’re out of bed, legs shaky, breath uneven. You half-stumble down the hall, grateful that the bathroom’s empty. You barely make it to the sink before the nausea hits.
You vomit. Again. Again. Each heave sends a fresh wave of pain crashing through your skull, like your body’s punishing you for remembering. All you can hear is the frantic thud of your heartbeat, pounding so loud it drowns out everything else.
It’s been over a month since you slept with Jaehyun. A month since you last saw his face. You tried with him—god, you tried, but you can't.
Every moment with him feels rehearsed.
You wipe your face with trembling hands, heart thudding against your ribs like it wants out. The bathroom light flickers faintly above you, and when you finally dare to look up at your reflection, you barely recognize the girl staring back. You’re usually regular. Always have been. But this time… nothing.
The realization hits you like ice down your spine. Your throat tightens as you swallow hard.
You need to buy a pregnancy test.
"I'm pregnant." The words fall from your lips, your eyes fixed on anything but him. The floor. The wall. "I don’t know what to do."
The silence that follows is deafening. You don’t have to look to know he’s staring at the test in your hand—at the two pink lines that changed everything. Then, quietly but without hesitation: “Let’s keep it.”
“I know you don’t love me,” he adds, voice soft even as it cracks at the edges. “I know you’re still…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. The silence stretches, his throat bobbing as he swallows down. “But we can keep it. Together. For the baby.”
And finally, you look at him. Really look. His eyes aren’t pleading. They’re not trying to convince. They’re just… open. Raw. Honest.
“We’ll build something,” he says, stepping a little closer, as if that might make it real. “A home. A family. Just give it time. Move in with me. We’ll make it work.”
Days passed. Somehow, you said yes. You told him you'd try — and he held on to that like it was a promise.
Jaehyun talked more now. About his family in the U.S., how they already knew, how they were surprisingly… supportive. He started picking up little things for the baby, socks, bottles, a stuffed bear with a stitched-on smile. He showed you receipts, color palettes for the nursery. He told you that before the baby comes, he’d have a small apartment ready. For both of you. For your new life together.
You believed him.
Your mother's reaction, on the other hand, was quieter than you expected. No yelling. No disappointment. Just a soft, dull acceptance. Maybe it was because she never expected much from you in the first place. Or maybe she saw how pale you looked, how your hands trembled when you thought no one was watching, and figured silence was the kindest thing she could give. Your father... just ignored it.
You're sitting on a bench in the park, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the grass. You pop a strawberry into your mouth, sweet and cool against the heat. Six months. You're six months pregnant now. Just a little over three left.
Jaehyun sits beside you, a paper bag in hand, his eyes bright with effort. "Here," he says, pulling out a small container of salad. “I made it. Looked up what’s good for the baby. Thought you might like it.”
You smile, soft and small, and take the container from him. You open it — and pause. The smile fades. “Oh.”
He stiffens beside you. “Why?”
You glance up at him, careful with your voice. “I’m allergic to peanuts.” You’ve told him before. Twice. Maybe three times.
His face falls. He takes the container back immediately, as if it’s burned him. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you murmur. You see it in his face, that flicker of guilt, of failure. He’s trying so hard to be someone good for you, for the baby. But the truth is, you barely know each other. You’re still learning each other’s favorite colours, let alone what makes each other hurt.
He reaches for your hand.
You let him hold it.
That day had been going well. Too well. The sun was warm but not suffocating, the breeze gentle against your skin. Jaehyun was laughing, not just smiling, but actually laughing, the kind that made you glance at him sideways because it still felt strange to hear joy from him, to feel it near you.
And you let yourself imagine it. A future. A home.
A baby wrapped in soft cotton blankets.
“Jake?” It was sharp, high-pitched, almost disbelieving. You turn instinctively. A woman stands a few feet away, dressed in crisp neutrals, her expression caught between shock and something you can’t quite name. She looks to be in her forties, and she's staring straight at you. “Are you joking?”
The sun is gone now, replaced by the fading lavender of twilight. A breeze lifts the hem of your shirt slightly, brushing cool against your skin.
“Mom,” Jaehyun says quickly, already letting go of your hand like he has been caught. He stands, tense, defensive. The word Mom hits you like a shove. You try to stand too, slow and awkward, one hand supporting your back, the other braced against the bench. You can feel the weight of her stare, heavy on your belly.
"Hi, I'm Y/N. Jaehyun's told me about you." You smiled or tried to, under her pining stare. Jaehyun just stands there, caught between you and her, mouth slightly open.
Why does he looks so shock?
And in that awful silence, you feel a rush of embarassment crawl up your neck, because you’re standing here, and she’s looking at you like a mistake he should’ve never made.
“Well,” she says, her tone clipped, “He’s never told me about… you.” Her eyes rake over you. From your shoes to the curve of your belly. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard it stings.
He lied.
“Mom, not here. Please. Let’s talk—”
“Is this why you’ve been asking for more money?” Her voice rises, looks around at the food, the soft blanket, the picnic he prepared so proudly. Then her eyes land on your clothes—the ones Jaehyun bought you—and her lip curls. “You thought we knew? That we’d let this happen? That I’d let my son throw his life away for a girl like you?”
“Mom! Stop!” Jaehyun shouts.
Your chest tightens. Your throat burns. You cover your stomach without thinking, hands trembling as they settle over the place your baby lives like you can protect them from her words. The tears sting, but you blink them back.
You look at the father of your child. He should be saying something, anything. He should be standing in front of you, shielding you from the way his mother's eyes tore into you.
He steps toward her. He places his hands gently on her shoulders, leans in, and whispers something you can’t hear. And just like that, she exhales. Composed again. Her mouth presses into a smug, satisfied line as she straightens her purse strap and turns away. “I’ll wait in the car, son.”
Your chest is burning now, your heart lodged somewhere in your throat. You stare at the ground. You can’t meet his eyes.
“I’ll talk to my mom first, ugh, you can go home by yourself, right? I’ll see you soon after. Be safe." He doesn’t even wait for your answer. He jogs off, his figure growing smaller with every step. And all you can do is watch his back.
It’s not unfamiliar to you now, that view.
You stand there a moment longer than you should, frozen in place, lips pressed tight as tears finally spilled down your cheeks. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, rough and fast, like you’re angry at yourself for letting them fall in the first place. Then, gently, you rest your hand on your stomach, “I’m sorry about that,” you whispered.
You walked home alone.
You weren’t surprised when Jaehyun didn’t show up the next morning. Hope had already begun dying in you the moment he left you in the middle of that park without looking back.
It wasn’t him who came. It was a man in a tailored suit with dead eyes and a briefcase that looked more expensive than anything you owned. The family lawyer. He didn’t ask how you were. Didn’t even sit down. We’ll need a paternity test. He’s willing to pay child support. Don’t get any ideas about taking advantage of him.
You stood there, your mother nodding beside you. Your father crossing his arms with dissapointment in his face. Your fingers numb, barely hearing anything over the sound of your own heartbeat screaming in your ears.
Maybe this was some twisted drama, and you were the girl everyone pities at the end, the one who gets left behind while the world keeps spinning. Not the lead. Not even a real character. Just… a consequence.
The future you had barely started cracked before it even had the chance to grow roots.
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“Hold on, okay? She’s almost here,” your mother says, voice shaking as she grips your hand.
But it’s slipping, everything is slipping. The pain is unbearable, a tearing, twisting storm from your waist down, and it doesn’t stop. It doesn’t even give you a moment to breathe. Your body feels like it's being ripped apart from the inside out, like it's punishing you for something you don’t remember doing wrong. You can smell the blood. It clings to the air, to your skin, to the sheets already damp beneath you. The weight of what's about to happen, of bringing life into the world while feeling like you’re dying.
“It hurts,” you gasp, voice cracking, tears slipping past clenched eyes. “Mom, it fucking hurts. Help me, please. Get her out of me.”
Your mother squeezes your hand again, then suddenly lets go. “She’s outside. I think she’s here. Just—just wait for me. Hold on.”
The silence that fills the room is unbearable. You stare up at the ceiling, as if by looking high enough, far enough, you can escape this. The pain. The fear.
They say in books, in birth books, in all those neat little guides—you’re supposed to think of something calming during labor. Focus your mind. Ground yourself in something that brings you peace.
You try. Your baby.
You’re going to meet your baby.
That thought should’ve been enough. It should’ve filled your chest with warmth, should’ve steadied the pain tearing through your mind and body. But the next contraction crashes in like a wave with no mercy, stealing the air from your lungs, and all that escapes is a broken scream. “F-Fuck— Somebody, please—”
Think. You have to think of something.
Anything.
Your head thuds back against the pillow. Eyes squeezed shut. Nails digging into the sheets. You're drowning. You're breaking. You're alone—but through the haze, something small slips through.
“Beomgyu…” you whimpered, voice trembling, pleading. “Choi Beomgyu…”
Where are you? Are you okay? Do you know? You imagine his face; the one you’ve tried so hard to forget. The one you buried behind months of silence and sleepless nights. His voice, the sound of home. His laugh that you know like the back of your hand. You still love him. You always have. It never stopped.
On the hardest, most terrifying day of your life, when your body is tearing open and everything feels like it’s coming undone, his name is the only one your heart remembers how to say.
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“It’s uncommon, but still normal,” the town doctor says gently, “Some women don’t lactate. Hormones play a big role. But… please, don’t blame yourself.”
You nod without really hearing her, eyes fixed on the floor, your nails digging into the soft, raw skin of your nailbeds. You shift slightly, rocking your sleeping baby in your arms, trying to ignore the weight in your chest that won’t lift.
“Remind me—what’s the baby’s name again?” You blink. Your lips part, but the words don’t come.
“Uh…” you murmur. “I haven’t… thought of one yet.”
The doctor exhales, not unkindly, but tired. “Alright. But it’s been three weeks. She really should have a name by now. Please try to decide soon so we can get her registered.”
You nod again. But the truth is, you’ve thought about it. A thousand names, whispered into the quiet in the middle of the night. But none of them felt right. None of them felt like hers. Or maybe… none of them felt like yours to give.
And so you just sit there, holding this tiny, perfect girl, feeling the weight of everything you should be and everything you’re not.
You gather your things in silence, careful not to wake the baby cradled in your arms. As you step out of the small clinic room, your eyes instinctively scan the hallway, pausing on the sight of couples dotting the waiting area, soft coos and shared smiles hovering between them. Each one holding their newborn close. Each one together.
You start walking, slow and unsteady, the dull throb of healing stitches pulling at your every step. Your body still remembers the pain, even if the world already expects you to move on from it. You wince, adjusting your hold on her, and try not to think about how you haven’t even given your daughter a name.
You should’ve given her at least that.
You glance down. She’s fast asleep, her tiny features softened in slumber, the faintest blush dusting the bridge of her nose. A little replica of you. It almost makes you want to cry. “Look at you,” you whisper, “sleeping like you didn’t have me up all night.”
The wind hits softly as you step outside, cool and crisp. And that’s when you see them; a small cluster of flowers, blooming stubbornly from the cracked soil lining the pavement. Soft petals reaching toward the gray sky.
Rain lilies. Your eyes linger.
Lily… Nari. Nari that means lily.
You look down again, heart twisting. “Nari?” you murmur, brushing a finger against her soft cheek. “Nari.”
You finally have a name now.
“Nari…” you whisper, voice cracked and shaking as you rock her back and forth, again and again. “Please… what’s wrong?”
She won’t stop crying. She’s been crying for hours. Her tiny fists clench in the air, her face red and scrunched as the wails echo through the small, suffocating space. You’ve fed her. Changed her. Held her. Walked in circles until your legs gave out beneath you. Nothing works.
You feel your eyes burn, the tears pooling too fast to blink away. “Mama fed you, changed your diaper… I don’t know what else to do.”
You bounce her gently, almost frantically now, trying to stay calm, trying not to let your own tears fall onto her cheeks. Your arms ache. Your head pounds. You’re too tired to think. Too tired to feel anything but the raw failure in your chest. Your gaze flickers across the room , the mess of bottles, clothes, diapers. The couch you now sleep on, because your room is too small for the crib. Her rocker sits unused in the corner, surrounded by unfolded laundry. Everything feels too much.
You hear the door creak open behind you. “I have class tomorrow,” your sister says, peeking out with a tired frown. “Can you make her sleep?”
“I’m trying,” you choke out, barely able to speak through the sob in your throat. She sighs.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper quickly. “…give me a few more minutes.”
She doesn’t say anything else, just closes the door. You swallow the scream lodged in your chest and hold Nari tighter. Waking your mother isn’t an option. She’s been sick. She’s done enough. And this… this was supposed to be yours. Your responsibility. Your choice.
"Just pictured a tiny version of you throwing a tantrum like that."
You remembered Beomgyu's words, and you laughed. “Yeah, idiot,” you murmured through your tears, voice shaking but light for the first time in hours. “It’s a mini me throwing a tantrum.”
Nari blinked up at you, her cries halting mid-breath, her wide, wet eyes now focused on your face like she’d just seen something new.
“Nari?” you whispered, tilting your head toward her. “Are you curious about what Mama just said? You want a story, is that it?”
A hiccup. A blink. Silence. And just like that… she stopped crying. You breathed out, stunned. The smallest, most fragile peace settling in the quiet of the room.
“Okay,” you said, cradling her close, your voice soft as cotton, barely louder than a breath. “I’ll tell you about Mama’s best friend.”
Your voice filled the space. Low, warm, laced with something tender and bruised all at once. You told her about him. About how the world used to feel safer with him around. You giggled at the memories, surprised at how easily they came flooding back. The way he used to clicked his tounge but always carry your bag anyway. The way he’d say your name when he was trying not to laugh. The way he looked at you like you were something soft in a world that never was.
You didn’t say his name out loud. You weren’t ready.
But for twenty whole minutes, the past lived again in that tiny room, and by the end of it, Nari was asleep in your arms.
It worked like a miracle.
From that night on, whenever Nari cried, you spoke of him, and she listened. Is it because of how soft your voice is? You found yourself remembering him more often, not just in the obvious ways, but in the smallest corners of your day. The way he used to hum while doing homework when the silence got too loud. The way he tapped his fingers when he was nervous.
It was survival.
Because somehow, in your mind, he was here. In the warmth of a blanket tucked around Nari. In the gentle sway of your arms as you rocked her. In the soft words you murmured when she couldn’t sleep. And sometimes, when the night got too heavy and you couldn’t stop crying, it almost felt like he was holding both of you.
As if he’s... here.
His face, and memories that would carry you through the hardest nights.
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“Nari, here, baby. Come on, girl.”
You crouch down, clapping your hands softly, eyes wide with wonder, a grin tugging at your lips even as your heart races. She’s moving—wobbling just a little, her tiny feet unsteady but determined.
She takes one hesitant step. Then another. And then a few more, slow and careful, her chubby arms outstretched for balance as she toddles from your mother’s arms toward you.
“That’s it,” you breathe, laughing through the lump in your throat. “Come on, love. You’re doing so well.”
When she finally makes it into your waiting arms, you scoop her up, spinning her gently with a joyful squeal. Her giggles fill the space like music, bright and unstoppable.
“You did it, sweetheart,” you whisper, pressing kisses to her cheeks. “You walked. You really walked.” From across, your mother watches, eyes soft with pride.
"Y/N." The voice is deep, familiar, and it stops you cold. You turn around slowly, your breath catching in your throat. He looks older but his eyes are still soft. Still searching. He glances at the little girl in your mother’s arms, then back at you. And it’s like something clicks.
"You’ve been here all along?" he asks, disbelief painting every inch of his face.
You force a small smile, bending down to kiss Nari’s forehead. “Wait for Mama, okay?” you whisper. Your mother gently takes her inside, casting you a look before the door closes behind them.
You stand, tugging awkwardly at the oversized T-shirt clinging to your frame, your shorts wrinkled, your hair tied up in a messy attempt to feel somewhat put together. You know you don’t look anything like the version of yourself he used to know.
"Hi, Soobin," you say quietly, and he just stares. “Yeah. I’ve been… here.”
His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He runs a hand through his hair, like he’s trying to make sense of something that refuses to be clean. “Every time I came by, they told me you weren’t around. That you’d moved. And now—” he exhales hard, eyes flickering back toward the house. He doesn’t finish the sentence. You know what he wants to ask. You can feel the question burning in his chest.
You look down at your hands. “I was ashamed,” you admit. “I didn’t go to college. I didn’t do everything the way I said I would. Life happened. Fast.”
You swallow. “I have a daughter now, Soobin. And… you don’t have to keep looking for me. I’m not who I used to be.”
You try to fix your hair, but his eyes drop to your shoulder—and you know he’s seen it. The faint stain from Nari’s spit-up you missed. You cover it too late, embarrassed. You offer another shaky smile, but it barely holds.
Then he moves. He steps forward, without hesitation this time, and pulls you into him. You don’t even have time to brace for it. His arms wrap around you like they remember. Like they never forgot.
“I want to meet her,” he says into your hair.
It was beautiful, the way Nari took to Soobin, like she’d known him all along. Like something in her little heart just recognized him. The moment you placed her in his arms, she blinked up at him, curious and calm. And Soobin, he melted. Immediately. A soft grin tugged at his lips, and the cooing started, gentle and awkward and perfect.
“She’s so tiny,” he whispered, holding her like she was the most fragile thing in the world. Like he was afraid to breathe too hard. But within minutes, he was bouncing her softly, nose brushing against her cheeks, whispering silly things just to make her giggle. He didn’t want to let go. You could see it in the way his arms curled tighter, like maybe holding her could undo all the time lost between you.
When he saw the place you’d been staying in, he didn’t judge. He didn’t say a word about the peeling paint or the single fan in the corner. He just looked at you, eyes determined. “Come with me,” he said. “I have a spare apartment. It’s clean. It’s yours if you want it.”
And before you could even shake your head, he added, “I’ll help with Nari. I’ll help you get back on your feet.”
You said no at first. Of course you did. You couldn’t be that girl; the one who takes advantage of someone’s kindness. Soobin didn’t push. He just came back the next day. And the day after that. And again. Somehow, after long talks with your mother, after long nights staring at the ceiling wondering if you were doing the right thing—you said yes.
Trusting became hard for you. But you found with Soobin, maybe because, he trusted him too.
Moving in felt less terrifying than you thought it would. Soobin didn’t make it feel like charity. He made it feel like home. You found a job a month later. And Soobin… Soobin became the softest constant in Nari’s world. The man she ran to with tiny feet and open arms. The one who could make her laugh when you were too tired to try.
He didn’t replace anything. He just… showed up.
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"I also… heard."
You turn to him, brows furrowing. "Heard what?"
Soobin hesitates, his fingers gripping the edge of his fork. "He’s back in town."
Your heart stalls. There’s only one person neither of you have dared to mention in years.
"Who?" You shouldn’t have asked. You shouldn’t want to know.
"Choi Beomgyu."
The moment his name hit the air, you dropped your gaze. Like it burned. You couldn’t meet Soobin’s eyes. You knew what was there; the same quiet questions he used to ask in softer moments, the ones you always left unanswered.
He had tried to make sense of how someone could disappear so completely. How someone like Beomgyu could vanish without so much as a goodbye. You remember those early months—Soobin asking carefully, kindly, trying not to press too hard. What happened between you two? Did something go wrong?
You never said a word. Not really. You built walls around your silence and stayed inside them. Pretending was easier than admitting you’d been left behind without a reason. A year without word turned into six. And in all that time, Beomgyu never did. Never came back. No letters. No apologies. Not even a rumor to hold onto.
It’s almost laughable, if it didn’t sting so much.
When you told Soobin about Jaehyun—the shame, the mess, the lawyer at your doorstep—he understood. No futher questions. No judgment. Just that steady kind of empathy only Soobin ever managed to offer. But when it came to Beomgyu? He never understood. He couldn’t. Or maybe he just wouldn’t. "Beomgyu's so in love with you that I can’t believe it."
Maybe it was because you were both too young. Or maybe he met someone oversea, a girl who laughed like you but didn’t cry like you, someone who studied at the same college, shared the same dreams. Maybe she didn’t come with too much baggage, or sleepless nights.
Maybe by now, he has a new life. A wife. A child.
And if someone had told your nineteen-year-old self that this would be the ending, you would’ve laughed. Laughed like it was the cruelest punchline to a joke you didn’t know you were part of. You didn’t know what love really was back then. Not until it stayed behind when he didn’t.
Not until six years passed and he still lived in your head.
“Groceries?” you ask as you open Soobin’s car, your voice low. He moves slowly, cradling the sleeping Nari in his arms like she’s made of glass, then settling her gently into the passenger seat, tucking the blanket around her like he’s done it a hundred times before.
“I can go pick them up, if you want,” you offer, watching the way he lingers with her.
“You sure?” he asks, eyes flicking to yours as he reaches over, gently fixing the collar of your coat, you hadn’t even noticed it had slipped. “It’s cold today. You okay to drive?”
“I’m sure,” you nod, tugging your sleeves over your knuckles. “Besides, Nari said she wanted to sleep over at your place tonight. Something about your sister’s pancakes and playing with Han.”
He smiles,“She’s been talking about that all week.”
You nod again, more to yourself than to him. “And I can’t leave my car parked out here overnight. So… it makes sense.”
“Alright.” He exhales softly, “Call me if anything happens, okay?”
You huff a quiet laugh. “Still trying to figure that out… this phone.”
He laughs, “I’ll go, then. I’ve got her.”
You step back as he closes the door. “Bye,” you murmur, watching the car pull away. And when the taillights disappear into the evening, you let out a long, tired breath. The cold bites at your fingers as you turn to your own car.
The drive was short.
You rub your hands together as soon as you step out into the cold, breath fogging in front of you. The night has settled deep. The parking lot is nearly empty. A few cars. A flickering streetlamp. Just like Soobin said, it’s just groceries. A quick stop. Preparations for tomorrow’s feast. His sister always makes a big deal out of celebrations, dragging him into the chaos. You’ve learned to let them. It gives Nari something bright to look forward to.
Inside, the box is heavier than you expected. You thank the employee handing it over and hug it to your chest, shifting your weight so you don’t drop it. You can carry it. You’ve carried heavier things.
You start walking, slow and careful, the edges of the cardboard digging into your arms. You were just about to ask someone for help with the door when—
It opens. From the outside.
The bell rings overhead; a soft chime, but for some reason it sounds like music tonight. It catches you off guard, how comforting it feels. Maybe it’s the simple fact that someone held the door for you. Maybe it’s the smallness of kindness that makes your chest loosen. You don’t even care if he only opened it because he was heading inside himself. He stepped aside, held the door open, and waited.
And lately, that’s more than enough. You smile for the first time in what feels like forever.
“Thank you—” The word barely made it past your lips before it died because standing in front of you, just as stunned, just as still—
Choi Beomgyu?
You blinked. Once. Twice.
It was like the world forgot how to move. Or maybe just you. The cold didn’t bite anymore. The weight of the box in your arms vanished. Even your own breathing, gone, like your lungs decided they couldn’t function with him so close.
He looked older. Not completely different, but grown. His hair was longer now, brushed just past his shoulders, half tied back in a way that made him look effortlessly composed. He looks at you. Behind him, someone cleared their throat—an older man, another customer —the sound snapping the thread of stillness that had wrapped around the two of you like a noose.
You flinched first.
You took a step back, sudden and clumsy, the box in your arms tilting dangerously as your feet fumbled over themselves. He didn’t move — not a word, not a sound, just his eyes following the box, then trailing downward. To your hands. And when his gaze stopped on your ring finger—bare, unadorned, still slightly red from cold—something flickered across his face.
As soon as the old man walks past, you run.
You don’t think anymore, your body moves before your brain can catch up. The cold slaps your face as you push through the door, feet pounding against the pavement. Behind you, you hear it; that soft slam of the door closing too fast, like someone let go in a rush.
“Y/N—” His voice. God, his voice. It hits you like a bullet. Real. Near. Here. You gasp, eyes locking on your car. Just a few steps. Just get there. Just get in, you can’t let him catch up.
You can’t see his face again. Can’t hear what he might say. Because after all this time... You still don’t know who left who.
You still don’t know if he betrayed you or if it was you who betrayed him.
“Y/N, please—”
Three more steps to your car.
Just three.
“Y/N.” You reach for your keys, but something so painful happens to your right foot. “O—ouch.” The box slips, crashes to the pavement.
“Fuck,” you curse, loud and sharp, the sound echoing through the empty parking lot. You see Beomgyu flinch. You lean against the side of the car, pain blooming like heat across your ankle, shame rushing in right after. All you want to do is disappear. Fold into the metal. Crawl into the seat and drive away like none of this ever happened.
It's one of your leg fucking cramps.
One of the cruelest things no one tells you about giving birth… is how your body doesn’t come back the same. You keep your head down, chest heaving, trying not to cry and behind you, you hear him step closer.
“What’s wrong?” Beomgyu asks. You’re trying to reach for your leg, but the muscle spasms again—tight and brutal, like it’s being wrung out from the inside—and your breath catches, a broken sob lodged in your throat. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” He’s closer now, panicked.
You don’t answer. You can’t, the pain twists deeper, radiating up your thigh, stealing the air from your lungs. You collapse back against the car, gasping, then you whimpered; tears burn hot, streaking down your cheeks before you even realize you’re crying.
“It hurts—” you sob, choked and ugly. “It hurts, it hurts, I—”
Beomgyu’s down in front of you before the words finish. He’s on his knees, hands trembling as he reaches for your ankle, for your shoes, for anything he can fix.
“Okay, okay, I got you, I got you,” he mutters like a prayer, but his hands hover, unsure. Like he’s scared to touch you. Like he doesn’t know where it hurts more. You keep crying; loud, unfiltered sobs that rip through you like the pain itself. Beomgyu’s hands are at your ankle now, carefully slipping off your shoe.
“Don’t move,” he says, and you shake your head, clutching at the car door, your body trembling. “Don’t—don’t move, baby—”
“Don’t— ah—” You managed to say, but the pain flares again, and your voice collapses with it.
Beomgyu’s left hand moves up to your thigh, firm but gentle, pressing your leg down to straighten it. His right finds your foot, still covered in your sock, and starts to stretch it carefully—and you felt your body relax as the pain blurs.
“Breathe,” he says. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Breathe, Y/N.”
You do. And slowly, the pain starts to ease. Your breathing staggers, catches, steadies even if your tears are still falling. And for the first time since after accidentally meeting him at the store, you look back at him. Your eyes meet his, and you can see how glassy they are. His eyes—locked on you like you're something fragile and holy and breaking all at once.
Do you know what it’s like to be angry at someone?
Like really, deeply angry; the kind that simmers low for years, slow and bitter. The kind you carry in your chest like armor. You build it up, rehearse it alone in the shower, in the car, while folding laundry like you’re folding the bones of your rage. You prepare your words like weapons. Every line sharp, factual, unforgiving. You’re not going to yell. No. You’re going to ruin them. Intelligently. With every truth they chose to ignore.
And he looks at you like this. With the softest look that he can give, like he never meant to hurt you. Like he miss you.
You don’t feel powerful. You feel exposed. How do you stay mad at someone who still looks at you like you’re everything they lost?
You let him hold your ankle. You don’t even fight it. His other hand moves up your leg again, massaging. You can feel the warmth of him even through the fabric. Fresh tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them.
Beomgyu freezes at the sight of it. “Does it still hurt?”
Yes. How can you miss him for years, and seeing him now makes you miss him more?
“Where?” he asks again, softer this time. “Tell me where it hurts.”
Everywhere, you think. You.
You pull away. No words, just the slow removal of his hands from your skin. You crouch to gather the fallen box, desperate for anything to do with your hands but before you can even reach it—he’s already there. Already picking it up. Already moving toward your car like it’s still his place to help. He opens the back door, gently places the groceries inside then turns to look at you.
"I should go," It was your voice this time, cracking the silence between you for the first time all night. Beomgyu flinches, almost imperceptibly, as if your voice surprised him. "My family's waiting."
You don’t wait to see if he reaches for you. You open the car door, slide inside, and shut it before the moment can stretch any further. The engine rumbles to life beneath your hands, a poor distraction from the weight in your chest. As you pull away, you glance in the rearview mirror; see him get smaller and smaller, watching you.
The car felt like a cage. You could barely breathe, not with the way your chest was caving in, not with the way your fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. You kept seeing him; standing there, just standing there, like he didn’t know whether to run after you or let you go. That image clung to you like a bruise. What were you supposed to say? Hey. I guess you’re back. Did it hurt as much for you as it did for me?
When you finally pulled up, your face was dry, but only because you'd cried yourself empty. You didn’t say anything to Soobin—couldn’t. Nari was already asleep, curled up beside his nephew like nothing in the world had gone wrong. His sister welcomed you with a soft smile and showed you to the guest room, no questions asked. You were grateful for that. You didn’t have the strength to lie. Soobin looked at you like he wanted to ask, but you refused to meet his eyes. You knew if you did, something inside you might shatter beyond repair. He must’ve sensed it because he didn’t say a word either.
Sleep didn’t come easy that night, not when the only thing behind your eyelids was the face you’d missed more than the life you once had.
It's cruel how memory chooses the softest parts of someone to haunt.
A soft knock at the door startled you awake.
The room was too bright, it's morning. You flinched, disoriented. Had you even slept? It felt like you’d just blinked. “Yeah… I’m up,” you mumbled, voice rough with a night that gave you no rest. Whoever it was didn’t respond; the sound of footsteps fading down the hall.
You needed to check on Nari. That much you could focus on. You pulled your hair into a loose ponytail with tired fingers, the strands falling uneven around your face. Your pajamas were wrinkled, your face was swollen from all the crying, but you made yourself somewhat presentable.
The living room greeted you with soft light spilling through the curtains, shadows curling against the floor. “Where’s Na—” You froze.
Sitting casually on the couch, a fresh bouquet of roses rested on the table in front, he turned at the sound of your voice.
Choi Beomgyu.
Right. You kept forgetting he was Soobin’s friend too. Of course.
He stood slowly, looking at you. His hand reached for the flowers. “Good morning,” he said softly.
It pulled you out of your stupor, your instincts kicking in like a switch. You turned on your heel, not giving him the satisfaction of a second glance. You needed to find the criminal.
"Good morning, my Y/N!" Soobin greeted with that stupid smile of his, the one that usually made things feel a little lighter. But not today. Not when you walked straight up to him and grabbed him by the collar, your fists trembling with something dangerously close to panic. His grin vanished.
"What the hell are you trying to do?" you snapped, your voice low, "Where is my daughter?" He winced, not from your grip, but from your stare.
“He kept calling me about you—ouch—okay,” he muttered, raising a hand as if to calm you down. “He was desperate. He somehow managed to reach people I haven’t even spoken to in years. Just calling and calling, he was trying to find me. All because of you." Your grip faltered for a second.
“I think…” he hesitated, then met your eyes. “I think it’s best if you hear him out. He got here fifteen minutes after Nari went out with my sister and Han. They’ll be back in the afternoon.”
You slowly let go of his collar, hand falling back to your side like it suddenly weighed too much. Your chest was tight, heart heavier than it had been in weeks. Did he talk? Did he tell him? About you? About how deeply, thoroughly, and irreversibly you’ve screwed everything up?
Your eyes searched his face, ask but then, almost gently, as if he could read your thoughts, Soobin spoke. “I didn’t tell him anything, It wasn’t my place.” he said quietly. “It’s best if you hear him out..”
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Beomgyu’s walking away.
Each step feels like it’s slicing him open from the inside, like the ground’s dragging knives across his chest. The doors ahead glint under the airport lights; the ones that’ll swallow him whole and spit him out somewhere far from here. Far from you. He tells himself not to look back. If he does, he’ll break. If he sees your face, he’ll run back and beg to stay. Worse—if you so much as whispered his name, told him not to go—he would drop everything. The flight. The future. All of it.
So he keeps going. Until something in him caves. He always caves when it comes to you. He stops. Turns.
And there you are; clinging to Soobin, crying like the world’s ending. Maybe it is. He wants to run to you, hold you until you stop shaking. But instead, he just stands there, chest heavy with every breath. He makes a promise right then, like a prayer carved into bone: He'll give you the life you deserve. He'll give you everything.
He tries to smile, but his lips are trembling too much. He can’t fall apart here, not when you’re already crying. You’re always the crybaby, not him. He has to be the strong one.
And when he finally finds the words—words that feel like ripping out his own heart and handing it to you—he shouts them so loud they shake through the air between you.
What do you even say to someone you're leaving behind?
“I’LL COME BACK FOR YOU!”
Even if the world changes. Even if you forget.
He will.
It’s hard, being in a new country. Harder than he ever admitted out loud. His family’s here, but it doesn’t feel like it. They’re always working, always somewhere else. And when he comes home to an empty apartment and four white walls, it hits him all over again.
You’re miles and oceans away.
He walks through streets that don’t sound like home. Every sign is a puzzle, every conversation feels like it’s moving too fast, slipping through his fingers. He nods and smiles, pretends he understands. But most of the time, he doesn’t. Most of the time, he’s just tired.
The only thing that feels real is when your letter arrives.
On those days, everything stops. His heart settles. His hands too excited as he tears the envelope open, like it’s something that gives him ar reason to live for. Your handwriting, your words; they’re a piece of home he can hold. It becomes his favorite part of the week. His only part of the week, really. Writing to you, reading your letters, rereading them until the ink practically imprints itself into his skin.
It was going well. For a while, anyway. Two months of surviving. Of pretending he was getting the hang of it.
Until it all went up in smoke.
He came home one evening and the sky was choked in black. Smoke pouring like a stormcloud, thick and angry, swallowing everything whole. Their apartment—the only place that ever felt remotely stable—was on fire. Gone. His parents’ last coin flip, their last gamble at a better life, reduced to ash. The furniture. The photographs. The little trinkets that made it feel like home.
Your letters. God, your letters.
He’d kept every single one. Folded neatly, worn soft from rereading. He used to clutch them on the bad days, the lonely nights. And now they were gone, burned before he could even say goodbye to them.
Suddenly, they were homeless in a country that still didn’t feel like theirs. The language still felt foreign, the people distant. They stayed where they could; shelters, temporary housing, places that didn’t ask too many questions. He didn’t write for a week. Then another. A month slipped by before he realized just how long it had been. But how could he write, when he couldn’t even buy himself a meal? When a sheet of paper, an envelope, a stamp—things he used to take for granted—now felt like luxuries too far out of reach?
He thought of you every single day. He trusted you’d still be there, still waiting, still believing in him. He had to, because he didn’t have anything else left.
They moved. Again. And again. From shelter to shelter, wherever there was space, wherever someone would take them in. No place ever felt permanent with borrowed beds. While his father scraped together bits and pieces for a future that still felt out of reach—secondhand furniture, donated appliances, hope held together with tape, Beomgyu worked for their family too. Late shifts, early mornings, anything that paid. He kept his head down, hands tired, eyes always scanning for something he couldn’t name.
It took six months. Six months of skipped meals and pocketed coins, of walking past stationery aisles with a lump in his throat, before he could finally afford to write to you again. And when he did, he poured everything into that first letter. Every apology he never got to say. Every cracked piece of his heart. Every I’m sorry it took so long, wrapped in trembling handwriting and the ghost of smoke that never really left his clothes.
He waited for your reply. Days passed. Then weeks. Nothing. So he wrote again. Maybe the first got lost. Maybe you didn’t see it, but then the second went unanswered. And the third
Still, he didn’t stop.
Every week, without fail, he wrote. Even when his fingers ached. Even when the silence on the other end felt like a punishment he deserved. He wrote like it was the only way to stay alive. Like if he just kept going, somehow, you'd hear him. Apologies bled through ink. Cries tucked between the lines. Please. Please say something. Please don’t leave me behind.
It had been over a year.
One year and seven months since he last saw your face, he missed your birthday. He missed everything. Coming back was a miracle in itself. His boss had finally said yes to time off, just a few days, barely enough, but he didn’t care. He had scraped together every cent. Skipped meals. He stopped buying things that tasted like comfort just to save a little more. He told himself he’d apologize the moment he saw you. Fall to his knees if he had to. He didn’t care what it took—he just wanted to explain, to make you understand, but then, on the bus to your neighborhood, holding the small bag of gifts he could afford, it hit him like a punch to the chest.
He’d been writing your address wrong.
All those letters—pages of love and pain, of apologies and hope—had never reached you because he wrote them from memory after everything got burned. He didn’t even realize he was crying until a stranger asked if he was alright.
And then he saw you. From across the street, standing beside Jake Sim. You're pregnant? Jake is laughing at something, one hand resting on your belly. You look beautiful.
Right there, across the street, the boy who swore he’d come back for you was breaking.
The ones left behind mourn with open hands, reaching for echoes, clinging to the warmth of a room that’s already gone cold. They cry in the spaces where laughter used to live, and the grief comes loud, sharp, like a scream in an empty house. But the ones who leave? They bleed quietly. They turn their backs knowing they’re carving wounds into people they love, knowing their absence will echo longer than their presence ever did. And they leave not because they want to—but because the world asks them to; because duty, or fate, or something crueler demands it.
Between the two, who suffers more? The ones who wait for a door that won’t open, or the ones who shut it with shaking hands and walk away?
Beomgyu had kept himself hidden for years—not out of pride, but shame. A quiet, gnawing embarrassment that maybe he had broken too much to ever come back whole. He never wanted to burden you, never wanted his face to remind you of the past. He knew you had your own life now. A family. A world that kept turning even after he stepped out of it.
He couldn’t explain what shifted in him this year. Maybe it was the ache of too many birthdays passed, or the way the past never seemed to loosen its grip. But he found himself wanting. Just a glimpse. Just to know you were okay. He went to your house—stood in front of the door he once called home—and was met with a stranger’s cold dismissal. Your father, grayer now, eyes harder. There was no trace of your mother; divorce, he guessed.
Then he felt oddly drawn to buy himself water and saw you at a grocery store. A mundane miracle.
And now here he is, sitting across from you, heart in his throat, watching your brows knit in confusion as he says the words he’s kept caged for years. The girl he once wanted to give everything to. The girl he still does. He worked through the ache, graduated, got a job, built something steady from the mess he once was. It’s not enough to retire on, but it’s enough to build a life. He tried dating, tried pretending but every time someone got too close, he found himself pulling away, haunted by a laugh that wasn’t yours. He looks at you, you’re here. And your adorable, bewildered expression guts him more than anything else ever could, because it confirms the one thing he’s tried hardest to bury: he’s still so fucking in love with you.
Beomgyu clenches his fist, thumb digging into his palm as he forces himself to meet your eyes. He stopped talking minutes ago—about the fire, the years, except the time he went back and saw you with Jake—and still, you haven’t said a word. Not to him. Not yet. “I know it’s—”
“What do you want me to do?” you ask, your voice flat, unfamiliar. And it terrifies him more than if you had shouted. “I’m sorry. About the fire, and everything, but what do you want me to do with that, Beomgyu?”
The way you say his name, it burns. Beomgyu stares. You still look the same, achingly so, but something in your voice tells him the years have changed you into someone else. Someone harder. He nods slowly, eyes flickering down, again to your hands. Bare. Still bare. The absence of a ring doesn’t make sense. You should be married by now. Any man would’ve been a fool not to. So why is your finger still empty? Soobin never told him anything. Wouldn’t.
“I don’t really want anything,” he says quietly, even though his heart is screaming otherwise. He wants everything. He wants you. “I just… hoped we could talk again.”
Beomgyu sees your face soften with his words, and you're about to speak when the door of Soobin's apartment beeps open.
“Mommy!”
A small voice cuts, bright and sweet, and he turns just in time to see a little girl bounding toward you—hair in low pigtails, uneven but endearing, the kind he used to tie for you in middle school with small fingers and too much care. The lollipop in her hand is sticky, half-melted, clinging to her palm as she throws herself into your arms. And you catch her like you were made for it. Beomgyu’s heart stutters.
“Did you miss me, Mommy?” she beams, eyes wide and waiting. And then he sees it—the softest, most real thing he’s seen on your lips since he sat down.
It tears him apart.
“I did, hun,” you murmur, brushing hair gently from her cheek. “Did you eat yet?”
“Yes! Sorry I didn’t wake you up to eat. Uncle Binnie said to let you sleep.” Beomgyu can’t breathe. His chest feels too tight, too full.
He can’t look away. He knows he should; knows it’s not his place to linger in the picture-perfect moment unfolding in front of him but he’s frozen. The little girl settles in your lap, arms still curled around your neck, and then, her curious eyes flick to him.
“Hi,” she says brightly, the lollipop now forgotten, her smile wide and fearless. Beomgyu blinks, then somehow finds the strength to match her energy.
“Hi,” he says softly. “I’m Beomgyu.” He sees it immediately—the shift in your gaze.
“She’s my daughter,” you say. “Her name is Nari.”
His breath catches.
Of course she is.
She looks like you. Same curious eyes. Same soft, heart-shaped face. A perfect mirror of the girl he fell in love with all those years ago. It stings—how beautiful she is. How familiar. She looks like you. He lets out a small, stunned laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, figured she is.”
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“Bye, Beomgyu,” Nari chirps from the living room, her tiny hands waving enthusiastically at the man standing by the door. Beomgyu grins, lifting his hand in a playful wave back. Then his eyes find yours.
You shift where you’re standing, arms crossed tight over your chest. Soobin’s already stepped outside, giving the two of you space as he walks ahead from Beomgyu toward the lot. You hadn’t expected Nari to warm up to him so quickly. Nari, usually shy around anyone new, had taken to Beomgyu almost instantly. She’d asked him question after question, tugged on his sleeve, even laughed in that unfiltered way she rarely does; maybe because he kept talking to her like he’d known her forever. Gentle. Patient. Funny in that effortless way.
“I’ll head out,” he says softly, clearing his throat. “See you tomorrow?” He looks like he's about to take you in his arms.
“Yeah,” you murmur, voice barely holding steady. “Drive safe.” You don’t look at him. You can’t. Not when your chest already feels too tight. For a moment, nothing happens.
Then he shifts, and when his hand lifts, you flinch—so subtly he might not even notice; all he does is rest his palm gently on your head. The touch is soft. Careful. With that small, simple gesture, he’s holding the whole mess of your heart right there in his hand.
You look up, just in time to see him step back. He gives you a quiet smile, a small nod, then he turns and walks out the door. You stand there, staring at the space he left behind, at the door that feels like it’s separating more than just a room. And suddenly, it hits you—this aching, desperate urge to run after him. To pull him back. To say all the things you swallowed down.
You felt it the moment he started talking, explaining—something inside you beginning to quietly break. His story unfolded slowly, like a wound being reopened in real time. It was too vivid, too cinematic, the kind of tragedy that scripts are written around. The kind that ruins the heroine, just before the credits roll but this wasn’t fiction, and Beomgyu doesn’t lie.
That’s what made it unbearable.
You sat there, silent, trying not to fall apart, trying to keep your expression flat even as the weight of his words dragged you under. Because somewhere between his grief and yours, a realization slipped through the cracks.
You were the one who gave up first.
Now, you couldn’t pull him into this; this version of your life where everything is held together with fraying thread because of you decisions. Where your daughter’s laugh is the only light in a world that feels dim more often than not. Where you don't even know who you are without the exhaustion.
You love Nari. Of course you do. You love her with a kind of fierce, bone-deep love that no one else will ever understand. But loving her doesn’t mean you don’t ache. You can’t let him back in. You can’t let him try to fit into this life, not when you know it would never be enough.He belongs to a different world, a world of bright lights and movement and choices. He could leave tomorrow.
You told yourself you were protecting him. That someone like Beomgyu—so full of life and possibility—shouldn’t be dragged into the mess of your world. A single mother, anchored to a small town and a quiet kind of loneliness. He deserved someone lighter. Someone with no baggage. You love Nari. God, you love her more than anything. Being her mother is the one thing you’ve never regretted. But that love also demands a kind of sacrifice.
If you let Beomgyu in—really in—you’d hope. You’d start to believe he might stay. And that hope is dangerous.
Worse still, a darker thought lingers: what if Nari starts to see him as more than just your friend? What if she lets herself believe he could be something permanent, someone who doesn't leave? Beomgyu comes from a world that moves faster than this place ever will. A city boy, full of dreams and fire. This town would shrink around him.
There’s an urge—violent, desperate—to throw the door open and run after him, but you don’t move. Your hands… they’re not the same hands that once held him with all the certainty in the world. The naive teenager you once were would’ve said yes without thinking, would’ve smiled and nodded like words was enough to fix anything. Whatever fragile, fleeting thing bloomed between you, it was your hands that crushed it first. Wanting him now would be selfish. Cruel.
You're not heartless enough to ruin him twice. You will be damned if you ever stood in front of his path.
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It's still bright out.
The sun hasn't set yet, but when Soobin glances to his right, it feels like someone told the man beside him that it never would rise again. All that light seems to have drained from him, a ghost of the boy Soobin first saw; eyes full of hope, clutching a bouquet of roses like he believed in happy endings.
"Choi Beomgyu," Soobin sighs as the elevator doors slide shut. "What did she say?"
There’s no answer. Just a low, half-hearted grumble from Beomgyu, somewhere between a whine and a sigh, like even admitting it out loud would hurt too much. Soobin turns, already knowing what he’ll see. Beomgyu’s head bowed, eyes glued to the floor, hands stuffed deep in his pockets like he’s trying to hold himself together.
Some things really don’t change. Soobin shakes his head, the corners of his mouth tightening. It's the same Beomgyu from high school—the one who used to trail behind you, heart always half a step ahead of his courage. The one who scribbled love in silence and let it rot there. Back then, Soobin had to push him every damn day just to get him to tell his heart out. Watching him want you but never move was its own kind of torture. And now, years later, here they are again. Did he seriously need to play the matchmaker again?
"Are you…" Soobin clears his throat, the question catching awkwardly on his tongue. "…giving up?"
"No. God, no." Beomgyu finally lifts his head, eyes flashing like Soobin just accused him of something unforgivable. "It's just—she caught me off guard that—"
"That she changed?" Soobin cuts in, sharp. "What, were you expecting her to do aegyo? Say some of that cute shit she used to pull in high school? Oh, I’m sorry, ‘Oh, Choi Beomgyu, I love you too—Ouch!” Soobin curses under his breath, reaching for his shin where Beomgyu’s foot just connected, hard. It wasn't playful. It was frustration. Beomgyu doesn’t say a word, but Soobin doesn’t need him to. He can feel it radiating off him—the heat, his rage.
Good. He’s still so stupidly, violently affected by you. There’s still something left to fight for.
"Are you still in love with her?" — "Yes."
The answer slips out of Beomgyu’s mouth so fast, so effortlessly, it startles the breath out of Soobin for a second. He smirks, "How can you tell?"
Beomgyu exhales, eyes distant. "Because it took everything in me not to kiss her."
"Heol. You pervert," Soobin snorts, shaking his head, but his tone softens, "About your question earlier. About… Nari’s father." He sees it instantly—the way Beomgyu’s smile falters, the way his jaw clenches like he’s bracing for something. Soobin swallows hard, the lump in his throat thick with everything he isn’t saying. There’s so much he wants to spit out. He feels like he’s being ripped in half. One part of him wants to grab Beomgyu by the collar, shake him, scream at him to grow the hell up and the other part just wants to pull him into a hug and not let go—because Beomgyu looks like he’s seconds away from breaking.
"It’s not my story to tell," Soobin finally says, "but for what it’s worth, he’s not in the picture. If that wasn’t obvious already." He pauses, glancing at the still silent Beomgyu, "She changed. I won’t lie about that. She’s sharper now, doesn’t smile unless Nari’s in the room. Harder to reach, but she’s still… our Y/N."
The elevator dings.
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A week has passed, and you see Choi Beomgyu every single day.
He hasn’t brought up your last conversation. He doesn’t push, doesn’t crowd the space you’ve drawn around yourself. He just… shows up. Whenever Soobin takes Nari out, even when you’re not there, you’ll find Beomgyu waiting by the car for your daughter, always looking back to give you a small smile.
There was a time when you told Soobin you were thinking about going home. He only shrugged and said, “You’ve already planned your holiday breaks. Leaving now would break Nari’s heart.” So you stayed. And every day, Beomgyu keeps coming back.
He brings flowers—always the same kind as the first time. He never hands them to you directly; places them somewhere nearby, close enough to notice, far enough to ignore if you wanted to. He doesn’t say a word about them. Your fingers always find the stems. You gather them quietly, arrange them in the same vase.
“Do you want some of this too?” you ask, motioning toward the chicken. Nari nods immediately, her mouth open, ready for the next bite. It’s lunchtime. The dining table is full—Nari beside you, Soobin across, his sister and nephew chatting quietly at the end. And then there’s Beomgyu, sitting diagonally from you, close enough to hear every small thing you say. You spoon the food onto Nari’s plate, smoothing it out beside the rice. Beomgyu doesn’t say much, but you can feel his eyes flicker toward you every now and then.
Beomgyu glances at you, then at Nari’s plate—already full, her little fork digging in eagerly. The rest of the table begins to eat, soft clinks of utensils and the hum of conversation filling the space. Then he looks down at your plate.
It’s still empty.
Without a word, Beomgyu reaches across the table and starts serving food onto it. You turn, startled by the movement. “I’ll do it—” you begin, reaching for the serving spoon.
“Eat,” he says gently, scooping the biggest piece of fish fillet onto your plate. “You don’t like it when your food turns cold.”
You go still. The words hit you in a way you weren’t expecting; pulling you back to high school lunches, sitting on worn benches, complaining about lukewarm meals. Back to the way Beomgyu used to sprint across campus just to find a microwave, breathless but grinning as he handed your food back, warm again.
You blink, watch as he quietly adds a little more to your plate. He reaches for your utensils, places them gently in your hand and you take them.
Just like you always used to.
“You sure you don’t need help?” Soobin asks, placing the last plate into the sink.
Your hands are already in the soapy water, working through the pile of forks and spoons. “Yeah,” you reply easily, “this is nothing.”
Soobin gives your head a gentle pat, and you hear his footsteps fade as he leaves the kitchen.
You keep going, the familiar rhythm of washing grounding you—soap, rinse, repeat. It’s peaceful in the way small, ordinary things can be. Then, without looking, you feel someone beside you. A hand reaches for the dishes you’ve already washed, careful and quiet, followed by the soft drag of a towel across porcelain.
“Hey,” you start, half-turning, “I said I’m fine, I’ll do that—” Your words trail off when you glance over and see him. Beomgyu. He’s focused on the dishes, drying each one.
He's helping you.
Beomgyu glances at you, his thoughts loud. You hadn’t pushed him away. You let him stay beside you, in this small, shared space; rinsing, drying, moving in sync. Something so simple, yet to him, it feels intimate. He’d dreamed of this. Not grand reunions. Not tearful apologies or big moments. Just… this quiet kitchen, and you beside him.
“You’re a guest,” you murmur, eyes on the sink. “You shouldn’t be here, doing this.”
He hears it—the softness in your voice, the way it falters just slightly at the end. You talked to him. Directly. A loopsided smile pulls at his lips, unable to hide it, because you talked to him. He doesn’t look at you right away, just focuses on the dish in his hands like it means more than it does.
“I want to,” he says simply, glances your way. "I want to help you." He watches how quickly your hands move through the motions but all he can think about is how much he wants to stop you. How badly he wants to take your hands out of the water, dry them gently, press them to his chest so you’ll feel how fast he’s still beating for you.
He keeps drying the plates you pass to him.
Beomgyu has been watching you and Nari all week. It hadn’t even taken a full day for him to see it: how good of a mother you are. How instinctively, beautifully you move around your daughter, knowing her moods, her hunger before she even says a word. But it’s the other things he can’t stop noticing.
The way you serve everyone first before thinking of your own plate. The way you rush through bites, always half-standing to get something for someone else. The way your eyes stay on others, never on yourself. He remembers lunch—everyone halfway through their meal, and your plate still empty. You were too busy making sure Nari had enough, that Soobin’s nephew got seconds, that nothing spilled. And something about it made his chest twist in a way he wasn’t ready for.
Who’s been taking care of you?
You, years ago, pouting over your favorite ice cream being sold out. You, holding out your foot for him to tie your shoelace, smiling like you knew he’d do it without asking. You, crying over the smallest things, because back then, you were allowed to. Now you're here, taking care of a child like you’ve done it a thousand times before. He sees you—this version of you, all grown up—and it knocks the breath from his lungs.
Beomgyu reaches out before he can stop himself, the sight of a single strand of hair falling across your face pulling him in. His fingers move gently as he tucks it behind your ear. He looks at you, afraid he must have done something wrong, something personal, but in this moment, with you looking up at him, lashes soft and eyes wide, he’s too dazed.
“Thank you, Beomgyu.”
He knows you haven’t said a word since the first day he showed up, but if anything, somehow, impossibly; he’s fallen even deeper.
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You were chopping vegetables at the table, Soobin’s sister beside you, lending a hand—at least until the two of you realized a few ingredients were missing, so she went out for a run. Soobin and Beomgyu had volunteered to keep an eye on the kids, leaving the kitchen unusually quiet.
“Y/N?” You looked up to see Beomgyu standing at the doorway, something wrapped in red cradled in his hands. His smile was small, unsure. You returned it without thinking.
“I wanted to give you something,” he said. You set the knife down and nodded. Ever since he’d spoken to you again that day, little conversations had started to creep back in. It felt easy. Light.
“What’s this?” — “Merry Christmas.”
“You do know it’s only 12 p.m. today, right?”
“I know,” Beomgyu says, scratching the back of his head. “But… do you remember that little tradition we had? Back then?”
You pause, looking at him. “Our families always went out of town on Christmas Day,” he continues, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “So we used to pretend Christmas was the day before. At noon. Just the two of us.”
You do remember. How could you not? Your hands move to unwrap the gift slowly, careful not to tear the paper. Inside, your eyes land on a pack of relief patches. Your breath catches. A note, scribbled in familiar messy handwriting.
Can we be friends, again?
"Uh, I didn’t really know what to get you," Beomgyu says, rubbing the back of his neck, voice a little rushed. "I mean… there’s a lot of things I wanted to give you, but," he lets out a nervous laugh, "I heard you talking about these patches. And I know you get those cramps whenever it’s too cold, so I just," He cuts himself off when he sees you smiling, arms open wide.
"If you don’t hug me right now, I’m taking it back and—"
You don’t even get to finish the teasing before he’s already moving, fast enough to startle you. His hands find the back of your head, cradling you gently as he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. His other arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer. You instinctively hugged him around the waist—just like you used to. You hold him, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t let them fall.
Beomgyu feels your arms tighten, and he presses himself closer. Being in your arms feels like forgiveness. It’s warm.
In the middle of the kitchen, two souls stood still. Remembering, what it felt like to be whole.
You wash your hands, eyes drifting to the nearly rebuilt faucet.
It’s been a month since Christmas. Three weeks since you came back home with Nari. And Beomgyu—just as everyone expected—has been everywhere. He visits for Nari, plays with her like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Sometimes he comes with Soobin, sometimes alone. He stays. He helps. He shows up with flowers one day, groceries the next because he noticed you were running low. And the faucet, the one you swore would never stop leaking, is finally fixed.
You became... somewhat friends.
“Nari?” you called, a small laugh slipping out when she came running in with her backpack already on—hair tie and comb in her hands. You took them from her, settling onto the living room couch as she plopped down on the floor between your knees. Gently, you began brushing her hair, pulling it up the way she liked for practice days. It was her big day. And you—fresh off nearly ten hours at work—had barely caught your breath. Beomgyu had insisted on taking her this time. Said you needed to rest. Said he’d be proud to cheer her on.
Your hands moved on autopilot through her hair, “Do you remember…” you swallowed, fingers pausing for a second, “Do you remember the person I used to talk about a lot?”
You never said his name aloud but something in you needed to know.
“Hm?” Nari hums, eyes fluttering shut a little, comforted by the way you gently brush through her hair. “Oh. Yes, Mommy.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” she says, “Mama’s best friend, right? And I think it’s Beomgyu.”
Your hands still. “What? Why?”
“I saw his dimples, Mama,” she replies, her voice sure. “It's ike the ones you always told me about and he’s big like a bear, like you said. And…” she turns her head slightly, looking up at you with soft certainty, “Beomgyu says you’re his favorite person in the world.”
You blink. Words caught somewhere between your chest and your throat. You never realized how much she was listening. How much she noticed. You were still trying to find something to say when the doorbell rang.
It was the fastest you’d ever seen your daughter run.
You caught the look on her face; pure joy, her smile so wide you thought her cheeks might burst. It was a look she gives to someone she trusts. She knew exactly who was at the door. You followed, slower now, your steps unconsciously softening when you heard him laughing. Then you saw them; Beomgyu practically crouched on the floor, Nari already clinging to him. He looked up, his eyes met yours, and he smiled.
It made you want to dream again.
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Beomgyu buckles Nari into the back seat, double-checks the latch, then closes the door with a soft click. When he turns around, you're still watching; leaning against the front door, arms crossed, casual in a plain shirt and shorts, face bare in the morning light.
So fucking beautiful.
He lifts a hand in a small wave. You smile, and wave back. It’s such a small thing, but enough to make his heart race. He gets back in the car, forcing himself to look away. He doesn’t start the engine until he sees you step inside and gently close the door behind you. He’s driving, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror once, then again. “You okay back there?”
“Yeah!” Nari chirps. “Thank you for letting Mama rest. I wanted her to rest too, ‘cause she’s been working a lot. I wanna take care of Mama today.”
Beomgyu’s chest tightens. She’s so small, her voice so light, and she probably doesn't know her words nearly undoes him. That kind of love, intentional, coming from someone who hasn’t even lived a fraction of life yet, it knocks the breath from his lungs.
How did she learn to love like that?
He glances at her in the rearview mirror, and she’s just there. Swinging her legs, looking out the window like she didn’t just crack his heart wide open. He swallows hard. He’s proud. God, he’s so proud. Of her, and of you; especially you. Because this kind of softness doesn’t come from nowhere. You built that in her and now it’s spilling out of her in the backseat of his car, and he doesn’t know what to do with the way it’s making him feel. It hasn’t even been that long. A few weeks. A handful of moments.
But he already wants forever.
He wants school plays and scraped knees. Wants to be the one who teaches her how to ride a bike, how to parallel park, how to survive the kind of heartbreaks he won’t be able to protect her from, chase off the boys who don’t deserve her. He wants to watch her grow into the world. And he wants you there for every second of it. Your laugh in the kitchen, your hand on his arm, your face before he sleeps. He wants you both. And it scares him, how much.
He’s never wanted anything this badly. His eyes sting. He blinks it away. Another glance in the mirror. Another heartbeat held tight in his chest.
“That’s cool, kid,”
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The sun was high, painting the day in golden warmth that makes everything feel a little softer.
Up ahead, Nari bounced with excitement, her small hands clasped tightly in Soobin’s and Beomgyu’s. She was all smiles, practically skipping between them, laughter in her face. You watched her, heart full. Watched them. Soobin was talking to her, probably asking which games she was going to beat him at today. Beomgyu, though, kept glancing back, eyes always searching for you. Making sure you were, still close.
Soobin had wanted to take Nari out to the mall today—spoil her a little, burn some energy. And of course, that meant one inevitable stop: the arcade. Beomgyu had tagged along without hesitation. The way Beomgyu’s eyes lit up when you said yes to Nari, was evident.
“You have to press this one,” you say through a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you point to the button. “You used to be good at this, Beomgyu.”
“Hey,” he says, mock offense in his voice. “It’s been a while, okay?”
He steps closer, closer than he needs to. His shoulder brushes against yours, and the warmth of him slips under your skin before you can stop it. He doesn’t move away. Instead, his fingers wrap around yours, guiding the controller, and his other hand settles at your waist.
Steadying himself. Or maybe just finding a reason to touch you. You don’t pull away.
He presses the button like you showed him. The claw sinks down and lifts the small teddy bear. When the prize drops, he turns to you, pride written all over his face. “Told you I could do it,” he says, flashing that grin, dimple and all.
You try to play it cool, rolling your eyes, even as your heart stumbles a little. “Fine. It’s acceptable.” You take the toy from him, trying not to let your fingers brush again.
“I’ll give this to Nari," You start walking, feel Beomgyu fall into step beside you. You halt at the sight.
It’s instinctual, the way your body freezes, breath caught halfway through your chest. The space is loud, chaotic in the way weekends always are, but suddenly it all sounds muffled. Distant. Like the world just dipped underwater. It’s easy to spot Soobin; he stands tall even in a crowd, his frame always familiar but your eyes don’t land on him for long. They find the man standing across from him. The man in front of Soobin. In front of Nari.
The father of your child.
Jaehyun.
Soobin’s standing protective, squared just slightly forward, one arm half out like he’s ready to shield. He’s trying to keep things calm, you can tell. You’ve known him long enough to read the tension in his shoulders. You see him lightly push Jaehyun back. A warning. And then you see her. Nari stands beside Soobin, pressed in his legs, small and stiff, eyes wide but lips pressed in a firm, silent no. She shakes her head—once, twice, over and over. You know that look. You know that body language. The way her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, the way she leans subtly toward Soobin, away from the man she doesn’t know.
Nari doesn’t like strangers.
You’re frozen. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until your chest starts to ache. You don’t know what part of it hit you first; seeing him again, or the way he’s looking at your child like he has some kind of right.
Jaehyun.
The man who left knowing you were carrying his child. You feel your stomach twist, something sour crawling up your throat. Is it fear? Or is it the anger, the shame? He left you. And it wasn’t just about leaving, it was how easily he did it. How quickly he made it clear that not even a child could make him stay. That you weren’t enough. That he meant none of what he promised. You were humiliated. Why does he know Nari? Why now? Did he know? Did he follow you? Did he have someone watching? Has he been here all along, memorizing the shape of your daughter’s face without ever earning the right? Your hands are shaking. Being a father? What does that even mean?Because he’s the one who gave her half her blood? Is that all it takes? A name on a birth certificate, a twisted smile, a return after years of silence?
“Y/N. Hey.” Beomgyu’s voice is careful but you don’t look at him. Your eyes are locked on Nari. On the way her small frame stiffens, how her lips tremble like she’s holding in a sob too big for her chest. You don’t even know what to say; what do you say to a child meeting the man who walked out before she could even open her eyes? Beomgyu’s hand comes to your shoulder, but it drops the second he hears Nari.
“No—!” It's tiny, a plea, crying out through her tears. And everything goes still.
“Dude, back the fuck off.” Soobin immediately says, aware that Beomgyu who is now nearing them. “You're scaring her.”
Jaehyun steps forward anyway, insisting, and Nari stumbles back. She doesn’t say anything this time, just clutches Soobin’s hand tighter, tears slipping down her cheeks as she tries to disappear into the space behind him.
Beomgyu doesn’t even blink. The second Soobin lifts Nari, turning her away from the scene, hiding her trembling frame against his shoulder; Beomgyu snaps. He grabs Jaehyun by the collar and slams him against the nearest wall, hard enough to rattle the arcade glass. The lights flash mockingly behind them, all blinking reds and greens and blues like it’s some sick joke.
Jaehyun stares him down, cocky despite the blood already blooming at the edge of his lip.
“What?” Jaehyun stares him down, “You gonna scare me off too? Like you did with Y/N before?” Beomgyu’s jaw clenches. He’s shaking with how hard he’s holding back. Jaehyun laughs—laughs, like it’s all a game. “You’re not her father,” he spits.
That does it.
Beomgyu’s fist flies, collides straight into Jaehyun’s face. The impact is loud, brutal. Jaehyun stumbles sideways, nearly collapsing, but Beomgyu’s there again, dragging him back up by the collar like he refuses to let this end with one hit. “Don't even say her name. You left her. You left them.”
Jaehyun punches him back, hard, and Beomgyu hits the edge of a skee-ball ramp, stumbling. “You think you can come back and pretend you care?” Beomgyu growls, eyes wild, blood rushing hot in his ears. “You think one fucking look at her erases years?”
“You don’t know what I went through,” Jaehyun snaps, lunging forward. “You don’t know what it was like—”
“Don’t you talk to me about pain!” Beomgyu yells, slamming into him again. This time they both fall—Jaehyun’s back hitting the carpeted floor with a thud as Beomgyu’s fists come down, one—two—three times.
Soobin rushes forward, grabbing Beomgyu’s arm. “Stop!”
But Beomgyu shakes him off, panting hard. His knuckles are red, maybe bleeding, maybe not. Doesn’t matter. Everything is fire. Jaehyun coughs, blood at the corner of his mouth now, face turned away. “You don’t get to waltz back into her life,” Beomgyu says, voice rough. “You don’t get to show up and make her cry and act like you’re owed something. You were gone. Stay gone-” He raises his fist again. Blinded—by fury, by the ache of every story you ever told him in a whisper. He wants to destroy him for you. He wants to make Jaehyun feel what you felt.
“Choi Beomgyu!” He freezes. Your voice, cracked, frantic, and trembling—catches him in the ribs harder than any hit could. “Let’s go,” you beg, voice softer now, breaking. “Please?”
He turns. He sees you; your arms wrapped tight around yourself, like you’re barely holding it together. Tear-streaked cheeks, eyes wide and desperate. Soobin still has Nari tucked into his chest, shielding her from it all, from him. And Nari’s shaking, tiny hands fisted in Soobin’s shirt, too afraid to even look. Beomgyu’s heart drops.
He meets your eyes and it’s over. The rage leaks out of him in slow, gutting waves. Guilt rushes in to take its place, heavy and drowning. He looks down at his fists, knuckles split, blood seeping between his fingers. Jaehyun groans on the floor, but Beomgyu doesn’t care anymore.
He only sees you.
“…Let’s go.”
Beomgyu doesn’t really know what happened after. Everything moved in a blur. Security guards rushing over. Soobin’s voice, gathering Nari in his arms and carrying her out quickly. The sting of cold air as they pulled him aside. Your hand slipping into his, trembling.
And now this. A small, sterile room in the back of the arcade. Fluorescent lights buzzing above like they’re judging him. His knuckles throb with every pulse of his heart. That little box of first aid in your hands.
Beomgyu watches you. You’re so close he can feel the soft brush of your breath on his skin. Your hand cradles his jaw with the gentlest pressure, a cotton pad in your other, dabbing at the cut on his cheek with delicate focus.
He’s sitting, back against the cold wall, while you stand over him—eyes still glassy from the tears you swore you were done shedding. He doesn’t believe you. Not with how you keep blinking too fast, how your lips press together like you’re holding more in. "Does that hurt?" you ask softly, barely above a whisper.
“No, baby.”
You nod, thumb brushes his cheek as you tilt his face just slightly toward the light, inspecting the damage with far more care than he deserves. He can’t look away from you. Not with the way your brows are drawn in concern, not with the way your skin keeps brushing his, unintentionally intimate. Not with how close your mouth is. Not when he’s this full of anger, of adrenaline, of fear and guilt and the overwhelming ache of you being this soft with him after everything.
He should say something. Apologize again. Ask if you’re okay. But all the words are caught in his throat, dried out from the fire still simmering in his chest. You dab more alcohol gently and he winces, less from pain and more from the way your eyes flick to his for a split second. And linger.
He swallows.
You’re standing between his legs, hands on his face, touching him like he’s fragile. And it’s killing him—how much he wants to grab you and say something stupid like don’t leave me, don’t hate me, don’t talk to him—
“Why did you have to do that?” you whisper, voice cracking, your hands trembling where they grip the fabric of his shirt.
Beomgyu's heart swell, he reaches for you, palm steady on your waist, pulling you in like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he waits even a second longer. You straddle his lap without resistance, your thighs pressing against his hips, breath shallow as you shift closer. Your face is barely inches from his when he leans in, and the moment your lips touch, it’s messy. Breathless. Too much and not enough all at once.
The kiss deepens quickly—months of longing, fear, and pent-up desire pouring into it. You tilt your head, hands sliding up to cradle his jaw, and he groans softly against your mouth, his grip tightening on your hips. His fingers dip beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming the skin of your lower back, tracing slow circles. Your hips move without thought, just enough to feel the way his breath stutters against your lips. His hand slides down to your thigh, squeezing firmly before gliding up, under the fabric of your shorts, rough fingertips against soft skin.
“You were bleeding,” you murmur between kisses, breath hitching as his mouth trails along your jaw, down your throat. “I was terrified.”
His lips pause against your skin, and he exhales shakily. “I didn’t care,” he says, voice low. “I'll do anything for you.” Your fingers tangle in his hair as his hands explore. Needing. His mouth finds yours again, deeper now, hungrier. You rock your hips against him, just once, testing, and the sound he lets out makes your spine arch.
“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips. “Don’t do that unless you mean it.”
Beomgyu gets on his knees before you, hands gripping your thighs, “I hate that he ever got to touch you,” he mutters, lips brushing against your inner thigh, hands pressing on where you need him the most. “That he got to taste you.”
"Beomgyu," Your breath catches, your fingers tangled in his hair as he kisses higher. "Please,"
His mouth is ravenous. As soon as he lets down your underwears, his tongue moved in slow, devastating small licks that make your knees weak and your head fall back. You’re gasping, so sensitive, his grip on your thighs keeping you wide open as he buries himself in you like he’s starving.
Every lick, every kiss feels like a promise. Like he’s trying to erase every memory that isn’t him.
You cry out his name, hips stuttering under his hold, and he only groans in response, like the sound of your pleasure is the only thing he wants to hear. His hands are everywhere—thighs, hips, stomach—like he needs to hold every piece of you down while he builds you up to the edge. He rubs your clit, tounge sucking your entrance and making sure he gets, taste everything.
You’re trembling when it hits you, but he doesn’t stop and it’s too much, too good, your body curling more towards his mouth, hands gripping his hair. He looks up at you like you’re holy. Wrecked. Worshipped.
“You feel that?” he says, breathless. “No one else gets to have this. Just me.”
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Soobin sighs from the driver’s seat, fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. The car is still parked outside the arcade, engine off, the signs of early night settling around them. They’ve been waiting nearly twenty minutes now. He glances toward the entrance again. You and Beomgyu are still inside. No sign of either of you. Must be a serious conversation, he figures. After everything that just happened, how could it not be?
Beside him, Nari is unusually quiet. She sits in the passenger seat, small hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the window as if she’s trying to stare through time. It’s not like her. Not at all.
Soobin clears his throat gently. “Nari?” he says, keeping his voice soft. “Are you okay? Do you want anything? We can grab a snack or,” She shakes her head right away, not even turning to look at him.
He watches her for a moment, the tight press of her lips, the little furrow between her brows, her shoulders stiff with something she’s trying not to feel. A minute passes.
Then, finally, her voice; small and uncertain, breaks the silence. “Uncle... is Beomgyu going to be...”
Soobin glances over. “Hm?”
Nari bites her lip, eyes finally meeting his. “Is he upset?” The words are soft. Too soft for a kid who just cried her heart out.
Soobin’s heart twists in his chest. “No, sweetheart. He’s just... worried. About you. About your mom.” She nods once, but her pout only deepens.
“Then can you tell Beomgyu to stay with us? He really makes mommy happy.”
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That day had been a moment of weakness.
Seeing Nari like that and hearing Beomgyu, breaking in your defense. You hadn’t been the same since. “Why are you ignoring him, seriously?” Soobin sighs through the phone, “Did something happen?”
You press the phone tighter to your ear, lips parting, but nothing comes out. Ever since that day, crammed in the backroom of the arcade, Beomgyu bruised and breathless—you’d barely spoken. Not to him. Not even to yourself. You couldn’t look him in the eye when you walked out. You’ve been silent ever since. “I’m just thinking,” you murmur, voice low.
“It’s been a week,” Soobin snaps, concerned. “For once, can you at least tell me what’s going on?”
You barely managed a rushed goodbye before the doorbell pulled you out of your daze. Nari was at school. You weren’t expecting anyone. Your legs felt heavy as you made your way to the door, heart climbing into your throat like it already knew.
Beomgyu. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Hair tousled, dark circles under his eyes, jaw tight like he’d rehearsed a thousand things to say and forgotten every single one the second he saw you. He quickly goes inside as soon as you step back and closes the door behind.
“What’s wrong with you?” he breathed, “What did I do?”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He laughed but it was hollow. “Did I cross a line? Say something I shouldn’t have? Did I hold you too long? Look at you too much?”
“Beomgyu—”
“No,” he said quickly, his voice shaking. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t say my name like that. I’ve been trying, I’ve been trying so hard not to push. Not to ask for more than you’re ready to give. I’ve been—fuck—I’ve been so patient with you, Y/N. Waiting. Holding back. Being whatever you needed me to be. And now you’re just… gone?” He choked, looking down. “You just left me there.” Tears welled up in your eyes. You swallowed hard.
He looked at you again, and it almost broke you. “Did that mean nothing to you?” he whispered. “Did I mean nothing to you?” You stepped back, instinctively, like your own guilt was too heavy to hold this close. He saw it.
Your eyes sting. You see him, the exhaustion in his face, the bags under his eyes. You look at him and God, it’s the worst thing, because he looks like he’s already bracing for the worst.
“I fucking miss you,” he says quietly, desperately. “I miss Nari. And if you really don’t want me in your life, say it to my face. If I don’t have a chance, if there’s no space for me in your world… I’ll back off.” He swallows, eyes glassy. “If you don’t want me anymore—”
“It’s not that.” Your voice comes out cracked, a whisper barely stitched together. His eyes snap to yours, and it nearly undoes you. “I’m in doubt, okay?” you whisper. “Because I’ve been there. I’ve heard promises. I’ve believed in forever before and ended up alone with a baby in my arms.” He flinches. “I can’t do it again. Not for me and especially not for Nari. She’s not like other kids. She feels everything. If she loves you and you leave…” You take a shaky breath. “It will destroy her. I know what that kind of pain looks like. I lived through it and I won’t risk her having to.”
“And on top of that,” you breathe out bitterly, “let’s be real. There are a thousand girls who’d love to be yours. Girls with no baggage. Girls who are whole. Girls who don’t carry years of hurt and a child that isn’t yours. Girls who haven’t already given everything they had away.” You shake your head, jaw tightening. “I’m a single mom, Beomgyu. I have nothing left to offer. I’ve been holding myself together with spit and string for years. And one day… one day you’ll see that, I’m not shiny or easy or new. That I’m just work. And when that happens, I won’t be surprised.” You’re shaking now, because the words are pouring out like you’ve been choking on them for years.
Your voice trembles as you say it, eyes flickering to the floor. “I just want to protect her from that moment. What if one day you wake up and realize we’re too much?”
Beomgyu stares at you, chest heaving, and for a moment, all you can hear is the silence between you. His hands are trembling. You see it even as he clenches them into fists at his sides. Then his voice breaks, barely holding back the quake in his chest. “Do you even know how hard it’s been for me?”
“Do you know what it’s like to wake up every damn day thinking about you and wondering if I ever even cross your mind?” His eyes are glassy now, jaw clenched like he’s trying not to fall apart. “Do you know what it does to a person?”
You know, you know that feeling.
He laughs, bitter and quiet. “I came back because I couldn’t stay away and yeah, maybe I was terrified because every time I see you, I wonder if just being here is ruining something you’ve already tried to heal from.” He looks at you, “But I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t pretend that moving on was possible. Not when my heart—” his voice cracks, “—not when my heart’s been beating for you all this time.”
He runs a hand through his hair, eyes red, pacing slightly as if staying still is too much. “I’m fucking in love with you, Y/N. I have been. And that feeling,” he pauses, chest rising and falling, “that feeling, it hasn’t faded. It won’t. Not in a week, not in a year, not in a lifetime or my next. I can’t look at anyone else and even try to imagine what it could be. It’s you. Always been you.”
He swallows thickly, “And Nari? She’s a gift. She’s part of you. She’s this bright, beautiful piece of you and I love her.” He chokes on the words. “If I walk away now, it’s only me. Just me. I’ll take that. But if you walk away… if you shut that door between us for good, it won’t just be you. I’ll lose both of you. You and Nari.”
Beomgyu breathes, then he sees it. Your tears. They fall quietly, like you didn’t even realize you were crying, and something in him fractures. His expression caves, soft and broken, and before he can stop himself, he steps closer, tentative, like he’s afraid you’ll flinch. His hands are gentle when they reach for you, thumbs brushing the wetness from your cheeks like he’s memorizing the shape of your grief. His touch is trembling, unsure.
“You’re crying,” he whispers, “God, you’re crying…” His voice breaks on the last word. You can feel his hands shaking as he holds your face. “You think I’d ever leave you?” he breathes, eyes locked to yours, full of disbelief and pain and love. “You think I’d walk away from this? From you? After all we've been through? I’ve known you since we were kids. I loved you then, and I love you now.”
You hiccup, the sound small and sharp, like something inside you just split. A soft, strangled whimper slips out at the warmth of his hands; so gentle, so undeserved and your face crumples as fresh tears fall. “It’s all my fault,” you whisper, and makes his breath hitch. “If I had trusted you…” Your voice shakes, breaks, and you force the words out. “If I had waited. Maybe then…” Your chest caves inward, like you’re caving around the memory. “Maybe then she wouldn’t look up at me with those huge, tear-soaked eyes and ask if he ever loved her. If she wasn’t enough.” The words fall like stones. “If that’s why he left.” Beomgyu’s face twists but he doesn’t interrupt. He just listens. He takes it.
“And I, I have to look at her, and I have to lie. I have to lie, Beomgyu.” You’re gasping now, fists clenched. “I have to smile while swallowing every goddamn piece of my grief, and tell her, ‘You are enough. You are so loved,’ while the space beside her is a fucking ghost.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “And she believes me. That’s the worst part. She believes me.”
Your voice goes hoarse, barely audible. “Maybe if I’d made better choices,” you whisper, voice barely there, “I wouldn’t be doing this alone. I wouldn’t be the only one standing on the sidelines during family days, clapping for one when the world cheers in twos.”
You press your lips together to keep from sobbing. “I wouldn’t be the only arms she runs into.”
“I’m here,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “I’m here. Just… just tell me what you need—”
“I love you.” It’s barely a whisper, but it stops the world. Your fingers tighten in his shirt, twisting desperately, “I love you,” you say again, voice cracking. “I never stopped.”
His breath catches in his throat.
“Even when I was pregnant and terrified and waking up alone. Even when the world felt too big and I was too small and everything hurt, I still loved you.” You’re trembling now, eyes locked to his like the truth has finally clawed its way out of you. “When I gave birth, when I held her for the first time and felt everything and nothing all at once—I wished you were there. I needed you there.” Your voice breaks entirely, your forehead pressed harder against his like you’re trying to crawl into him, into that space where it doesn’t hurt so much.
“There were nights I didn’t think I’d make it. Days where I’d stare at the ceiling and wonder if she’d grow up resenting me. Days where I’d hold her and whisper your name… it was you. Always you.” Beomgyu’s eyes are wide, glassy, like he’s forgotten how to breathe. His lips part, but nothing comes out. Nothing can.
Because you just shattered him.
“We survived because of you,” you whisper. “Because I remembered what it felt like to be loved by you, because even when you weren’t there, you were still the reason I kept going.”
His hands slide to your jaw, his chest is rising and falling fast now, like your words punched through every wall he built.
He’s completely undone.
You barely get to speak again before he’s on you. He can't stop himself anymore. It’s how you looked, whispered the words that you loved him after all this time. His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, his body heat searing through your clothes. His lips crash into yours—hungry, desperate, like he’s been starved for you. His mouth moves against yours, claiming, taking.
His fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back as his tongue slides against yours. His hands roam down, gripping, pulling, making sure you feel every bit of him. He grabs your wrists, lifting them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath ragged as he nips your sensitive skin. "I missed you," he murmurs. Another kiss—hotter, deeper, his body pressing your back against the wall. "I got fucking scared you'd never let me in."
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.
"You loved me." His voice softens, almost breaking. He presses his crotch to yours, eyes seeking yours. "You loved me after all this time?"
“Yes,” you said weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt, your voice trembling as much as your resolve.
"You're stuck with me now." His hands moved to your shoulders, then slid down to your waist, pulling you to him. He grinds desperately to you. You never knew that lips could talk without uttering a word as he captures your lips again and again. "I can't stay away anymore. I can't live without you."
You surrendered to his touch, your body softening beneath him. Your hands gripped his shoulders for balance as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, which groaned under your shifting weight. You reached for Beomgyu’s lips, catching him off guard as you kissed him with everything you had, tongues colliding in a heated frenzy. His hand slid between your thighs, cupping your middle and sending a shiver through you. But even in the haze of his taste, a heavy guilt settled in your chest. "Gyu,"
"I need you, baby." His breaths were ragged, syncing with your every moan as his tongue tangled with yours. 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 adoration and awe as they traced your body. You hadn’t realized how powerless you were against him until your legs parted, welcoming him. He's on top of you, looked at you like you were sacred, like you were his entire world. Beomgyu's eyes never left yours as his fingers found your hand, he intertwines your fingers.
“It's going to be okay… I'll be here now.” 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 shakily reaching for your clit, pinching softly then roughly rubbing, coaxing sounds from your lips that you didn’t know you were capable of.
"I'll fix everything for us, for you." He looks at you—wanting to see every expression you make. His face hovers and with his fingers he spreads you apart. He swallows, salivating. He sticks his tongue out, lightly licking your clit. You taste so—he buries his face in, tongue inside, hands on your hips. "Shit, you've always tasted this good," He groans, lapping up, sucking the arousal out of you. He moves up, nose bumping on your clit then he suckles more. His cock throbs with every taste of you, the way you melt against his mouth driving him insane. He feels you slick against his chin, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t leave a single inch of you untouched by his warm, greedy mouth. It was as if your body had been crafted for his lips alone, flesh and heat meant to be devoured at his leisure.
When you tug hard on his hair, he groans against you, finally pulling back. His lips glisten as he moves up your body. He crashes his mouth onto yours, the kiss deep and hungry, and you taste yourself on his tongue—messy, desperate, a mix of him and you, blurring the lines between who’s devouring who.
“I love you,” 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's sure he'll come right there and then. His face buried itself in the curve of your neck, and his words spilled out—
"You feel so so good, don't ask me to stop, 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,"
“I love you,” you replied, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss as you both unravelled together, bodies trembling in unison. Your thighs clenched tightly around his waist.
"Beomgyu, I— I'm sorry—" 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.
“Shh, I know baby,” 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.
All the horrors inside you; every thoughts of abandonment, every sleepless night, every silent scream, begin to dissolve beneath his touch. With every kiss he lays against your skin, something softens. He’s chasing the ghosts from your bones, like he’s replacing every bruise life left behind with something holy. He kisses your cheeks, wet with tears. He kisses you like a man who has memorized the ruins. Who has studied the wreckage of you and decided that this is still his favorite place to be. That you, broken or whole, scarred or shining, were always meant to be his.
You’re starting to breathe.
"I'm not missing anything anymore," Beomgyu murmurs, lips tugging into a soft pout. You laugh quietly against his bare chest, your cheek rising and falling with each of his breaths. His arms tighten around you, fingertips tracing slow, lazy circles along your spine. The two of you lie tangled in the warmth of the sheets, skin to skin. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Nari. Her first words. Her first steps. All those nights you probably sat up alone…” His voice trails off, and when he speaks again, it’s rougher. “I wasn’t there. And I hate that. I hate that you had to do it all without me.” He looks at you and for a second the world seems to still. "I'm not missing any more of it."
How can someone like him be real?
“Okay.” You smile, and so does he—quiet and shy, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to show the faintest hint of dimples. You reach out without thinking, your fingers brushing the soft curve of his cheek, then trailing across the tiny freckles scattered like whispers on his skin. “And how are you supposed to do that, hmm?” you murmur, voice barely above a breath. “Live with me? Or—”
“Marry me,” he says, and your hand stills, but he catches it gently, holding it between his own. He brings it to his lips and presses a kiss to your palm, “Will you marry me?”
You can’t breathe. Your heart stumbles in your chest as you search his face for any trace of a smile, any flicker that he might be joking—that he doesn’t really mean it. Beomgyu takes your silence for doubt, so he keeps going. “Of course, I’d have to ask Nari first, and probably beg. I need her approval before anything,” he says with a nervous laugh, eyes flicking to yours.
“You get to choose where we live,” he adds quickly. “Do you want a house near the coast? Somewhere quiet? We could move. We could adopt a dog. Or do you want a flower shop?” He’s painting visions in the air now, “We could also—”
Beomgyu keeps talking. His words are soft, a little rushed. He talks about futures like they’re right there in the middle of his hands, painted in soft colors and quiet mornings. You, him, and Nari. A little house somewhere warm. A dog with floppy ears. A flower shop if you want it. A life that feels full.
You hear him, but your heart is louder.
They say you’re lucky if you find the man of your dreams. But that never felt like something made for you. Not for the boy rambling in front of you, not for your best friend. You look at him; at his eyes, honest and open, at his lips, red and kiss-bitten from how often they’ve met yours. At the way he watches you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.
And suddenly, it makes sense. It all dawns to you, why you've always find it hard to imagine, to hope, and to wish.
It's all because Beomgyu, is the maker of your dreams.
"Where's my ring?"
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You sit at the coffee shop, the cup of coffee in front of you untouched, growing cold. Your fingers keep circling your new ring, turning it absentmindedly, like maybe if you spin it enough, it’ll stop the nerves.
Then the door chimes. Jaehyun walks in, scanning the room, searching, until they land on you; they soften. “Hi,” he says as he slides into the seat across from you. There’s a small pink paper bag in his hands, creased slightly from how tightly he’s holding it. “Thank you for meeting me, Y/N.”
“It’s nothing,” you reply quietly. “I guess it was inevitable… that we’d have to sit down like this.” He nods, gaze drifting to your hand; your ring. A flicker of something passes over his face, but he doesn’t say anything about it.
“I want to be there for Nari,” he says finally. “Time with her. Some kind of custody arrangement. I know it’s late. I know how much time I’ve missed. But I… I regret everything.” His voice trembles, “I’ve spoken to my mom. I’ve thought about this a lot. I don’t expect forgiveness, but let me support her—financially, emotionally. Whatever you’ll allow me to do.”
"Yes." You interrupt gently, before his words spiral too far. "Thank you, Jaehyun. But…" You pause, trying to steady the shake in your voice. “This is going to take time.”
You glance down at on your right, on the windows to the parked car where you know your best friend is waiting, then back at him. “I’ll explain it to her. Slowly. When it feels right. And when she’s ready, we’ll set a day where you can be with her—freely, as her father. Just… not yet. We can’t rush something like this. Not when it’s her heart on the line.”
His shoulders sink just a little as he nods. “I lost my chance,” he says softly, looking at the window, at the same parked car you've been looking at,“With you. With Nari.” It isn’t a question.
He offers a faint smile, and for a second, it looks like he might say more but the words catch somewhere in his throat and never make it out. Instead, he slides the pink bag across the table. “I baked you cookies,” he says. "It doesn't have peanuts on it."
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“Nari, be careful!” you call out as your daughter bolts through the front door, laughter echoing off the bare walls of your new home.
Beside you, Beomgyu chuckles, juggling two boxes in his arms. “Careful, sweetheart,” he calls after her, his voice filled with nothing but adoration as he follows you inside.
Your eyes sweep over the space—unfamiliar, but full of promise. It had taken months of gentle convincing, of late-night talks and quiet reassurances from Beomgyu. And now… here you are. Standing in a place that doesn’t feel like home just yet, but might—because he’s here. Because she’s here.
You set your box down on the counter and breathe in slowly, letting the moment settle around you.
A warm hand slides over your back, fingers curling gently at your waist. “You okay, baby?” Beomgyu murmurs, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the side of your face. “Soobin said he stopped to get food.”
You nod, turning slightly to face him. “I want to paint our house,” you say quietly.
Our house.
Beomgyu smiles, eyes crinkling like he’s just heard something sacred. “Then let’s paint it,” he whispers, eyes still on you like you’re the most important thing in the room.
He takes your hand gently, absentmindedly lifting it to his lips. His thumb brushes over your fingers, then lingers on your ring. He kisses it, soft and slow, like it’s second nature now, like loving you in small, wordless ways has become part of who he is.
“We can also have…” he starts, voice trailing off as he imagines out loud, eyes flicking to the blank walls around you. “A wall for Nari’s drawings. Right here, maybe in the hallway. And a shelf for your books. One of those that curves, remember? You showed me a picture of it.” He smiles, that soft boyish grin he only gives when he’s picturing a life with you. “And maybe a corner just for us. A record player. Or a couch we can fall asleep on, when we're tired of chasing Nari around.” He laughs a little, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “We can fill this place up with us.”
“Daddy!” The word rings out like a bell, and you both freeze. Beomgyu goes completely still beside you, breath caught in his throat. You turn just in time to see Nari bounding down the hallway, a soft, excited smile lighting up her face.
“Do I get my own room now?” she asks, as if she didn’t just change the world with one word. You and Beomgyu look at each other, stunned; eyes wide, not in disbelief, but in something far softer.
It’s the first time. The very first time she’s called him that.
Beomgyu blinks quickly, like he’s trying to make sure he’s not dreaming, like if he moves too fast it might vanish. Then, he drops to his knees and opens his arms. Nari runs into them without hesitation.
He wraps her up tightly, heart thundering, eyes glassy with everything he’s feeling all at once; shock, love, awe. He buries his face into her tiny shoulder and laughs through it, voice thick.
“Of course you get your own room, sweetheart,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at her. “You can have anything. Daddy will give it to you. Anything you want.”
Shit happens. Life happens.
It breaks you in places you didn’t know could crack. It tests you, takes from you, forces you to let go of things before you're ready. Time passes. Plans fall apart, but no matter how far you go, no matter how the story twists, no matter what you've been through, you always end up where you belong to. Always end up with them.
The ties between may fray. Fate may take unexpected turns. You might walk through fire, lose your way, forget who you were before the world touched you, come back with more scars than dreams. But nothing, nothing, not even all the wreckage life leaves behind… can stop two souls that are meant for each other.
The things that the world can’t touch.
It remains the same.
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taglist: @heesmiles @lovingbeomgyudayone @virtaideen @hyukascampfire @fancypeacepersona @bamgeutori @lilbrorufr @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @xylatox @yunverie @imlonelydontsendhelp @moagyuu @immelissaaa @readinmidnight @pagelets @wonderstrucktae @boba-beom @nightblythe @hyuckxtagram @hoefororeo @beomgyusluver @feet4liferss @soobinbunnie5 @soohashits @lostgirlysstuff @demidelulu @love-be0m @razsberrie @strawberryshoujosundae @y2kgyu @usuallyunlikelyfox @xi0riae @giegiemon @okkotsuevie @beomkyum @i-am-not-dal @cherr4es @brrytears @yystarz @moonlightgrleric @lumpynoofles @raspberrii @baekberrie
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4izn · 2 months ago
Text
I hate and need him so much !!
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summary: you and beomgyu are the top students in your university’s music program—but that’s the only thing you have in common. constantly clashing over leadership and vision, your rivalry is infamous across campus. but when a heated late-night argument over your final project spirals out of control, you both cross a line neither of you can walk back from. tension turns to obsession, and hate becomes the hottest kind of desire...
pairing: enemy!beomgyu x fem!reader
genre: enemies with benefits, smut, angst, college au, slow burn, toxic dynamics, musical rivalry.
warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, toxic dynamics, public tension, dominance & submission themes, rough sex, mentions of physical aggression (non-violent), mutual degradation, possessiveness, slight exhibitionism, slight humiliation, dirty talk, praise kin, overstimulation, begging.[18+ ONLY MDI]
wc: 5,94k
notes: my tiktok is flooded with beomgyu videos + beomgyu in those photos... I'm thinking... 🫦💦
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you’ve never met someone as fucking insufferable as choi beomgyu.
you’re top of your class in music theory and composition. sharp mind, sharper tongue, perfectionist to the bone. and unfortunately, so is he. same major, same year, same goddamn classes—and ever since first year, you’ve been stuck in this sick, twisted competition that neither of you ever agreed to, but neither of you can let go of either.
he’s loud. smug. sarcastic. every time he opens his mouth, it’s like he’s begging you to punch him. he thinks he’s the most brilliant mind to grace the university halls and you? you’re just a stubborn little brat who got lucky with a few good scores.
you, on the other hand, think he’s a cocky little shit with too much talent and zero humility. a show-off. a provocateur. someone who gets under your skin just for the thrill of it.
and worse, he knows it.
“i don’t know how the fuck you got the leader position,” he says, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back against the piano like he owns the place. “but if you keep running this project like this, we’re all going to look like idiots.”
you’re standing near the whiteboard, marker still in your hand from the rehearsal plan you were setting up. you were already exhausted—it’s late, your head’s pounding, and everyone else already left the music room because they knew this was coming.
you and beomgyu. again.
“then don’t be part of it,” you snap, glaring at him over your shoulder. “no one’s forcing you to stay.”
“you’re unbelievable,” he scoffs, pushing himself off the piano and walking closer. “you act like you know everything. like your way is the only way. but guess what? newsflash—this isn’t high school anymore, princess. not everyone’s going to kiss your ass.”
“fuck you,” you hiss, dropping the marker and turning to face him fully now.
“oh, that’s rich.” he laughs—short, bitter, mocking. “you can’t handle being challenged, huh? the second someone calls you out, you throw a fit.”
“you’re not ‘challenging’ me, you’re being a fucking asshole,” you step closer too now, chests nearly touching. “you think just because you play guitar and write edgy lyrics, you’re some kind of genius?”
his jaw clenches. “i am a fucking genius. unlike you, i don’t treat people like shit to feel superior.”
“no, you just think you’re better than everyone and talk like you’re god’s gift to music.”
“keep pushing me, sweetheart,” he growls, eyes narrowing. “see what happens.”
and maybe it’s the hour. or the pent-up rage. or how his breath is hot against your lips now, because neither of you moved away.
maybe it’s the way your heart’s been racing around him since the first semester, and you’ve been too fucking proud to admit it.
but when he grabs your wrist, pulling you flush against him, and your mouths crash together in something that’s not a kiss, not yet—more like a war—you don’t stop it.
you kiss him like you’re trying to shut him up. he kisses you like he’s trying to make you forget your name.
it’s teeth. it’s tongue. it’s bruises forming before either of you even start taking clothes off. his hands are gripping your waist like he’s waited years for this, and your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling hard, like you want to hurt him and fuck him at the same time.
you gasp when his lips leave yours, only to trail down your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. your back hits the wall behind you with a dull thud, and you’re too far gone to care if anyone hears.
“still think you’re in control?” he mutters against your skin, voice low, mocking, laced with heat.
“fuck you,” you spit, breathless.
he grins. that goddamn grin.
“yeah?” he grabs your chin, tilting your face so you have to look at him. “then why are you fucking shaking for me, bitch?”
you slap him.
not hard enough to hurt. just enough to sting.
his smirk drops for a second—and then he laughs, low and wild, before grabbing your wrists and slamming them above your head.
“god, you’re such a brat,” he growls. “always running your mouth, always trying to act like you’re better than me. but here you are, letting me pin you like a fucking slut.”
“go to hell,” you snap, squirming against him.
he leans in, presses his mouth to your ear. “after i’m done with you.”
he kisses you again—hard, possessive, angry. his hand slides under your shirt, up your ribs, dragging slow just to hear you breathe harder.
“take this shit off,” he says against your lips, tugging at your shirt, and you don’t hesitate.
the air is cold, but his hands are hotter than sin. they roam, greedy, rough, like he wants to memorize every inch of you just so he can ruin it.
“beomgyu—” his name escapes your mouth in a shaky moan when he sucks a bruise right beneath your collarbone.
“what, bitch?” he mutters, pulling your bra down like it’s in his way. “you like that? you like when i touch you like this?”
you don’t answer. your pride won’t let you.
so he smirks, teeth flashing. “still pretending you hate me?”
you glare. “i do.”
he chuckles darkly. “then hate me with your legs around my waist.”
and you do. you hook your legs around him as he lifts you off the floor, grinding into you, cock already hard through his jeans and pressed right against where you need him most.
“fuck,” you whisper, head falling back.
“yeah,” he breathes, mouth trailing down to your chest. “that’s what i thought.”
his fingers find the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with a sort of impatient frustration that makes your whole body ache. he kisses down your stomach as he does it, slow only to torment you.
“been dreaming about this,” he mutters. “ruining that smart little mouth of yours. showing you who really runs this fucking class.”
“keep talking,” you pant, “and i’ll bite your tongue off.”
he laughs again—low, dangerous.
“you’re such a bitch,” he says. “and you’re gonna let me fuck you anyway.”
and you do.
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you don’t know how you ended up half-naked on the piano bench, legs spread, his mouth buried between your thighs like he’s starving.
maybe it was the way you clawed at his shirt like you wanted to rip his skin off. maybe it was how he shoved you down with a growl, like he couldn’t stand another second without tasting you.
either way, you’re too far gone to give a fuck.
“fuck—beomgyu—” you choke out, fingers tangling in his messy hair.
he groans into your cunt, licking you slow just to hear you whimper, then fast just to fuck with you. his hands are bruising your thighs, holding you still like he’s scared you’ll run.
“you’re loud now,” he says, voice muffled against your skin, “but in class you act so fucking high and mighty.”
“shut up—” your voice cracks when he flicks his tongue over your clit, again, again, again.
“no,” he growls, looking up at you with spit and you all over his mouth. “you don’t get to shut me up. not when you’re moaning like a little toy.”
you reach down, grabbing his jaw, pulling him up to kiss him hard—tasting yourself on his tongue, nails dragging down his back.
“you’re fucking disgusting,” you whisper against his lips.
he bites your bottom lip, just enough to make you gasp. “and you love it.”
you do.
you hate him. but you want him so bad it’s making your head spin.
when he finally unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out, thick and flushed and leaking, your mouth goes dry.
“don’t stare like you’re impressed,” he teases, pumping himself once. “you act like you’re not dying for this.”
you glare, then smirk. “i’ve had better.”
“is that so?”
he grabs your hips, pulls you to the edge of the bench, and slams into you without warning.
your whole body arches.
“fuck—!” you cry out, nails digging into his arms.
he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. doesn’t slow down. he fucks you like he’s punishing you for every word you’ve ever thrown at him, every smug look you’ve ever given.
“better than this?” he grits out, snapping his hips harder. “you’re dripping, you fucking liar.”
“shut up—”
“nah. say it. say who’s fucking you this good.”
“go to hell,” you growl, grabbing the back of his neck, dragging his mouth to yours.
he kisses you like he wants to bruise your soul. you kiss him like you want to rip his heart out.
“fuck, you feel good,” he groans against your mouth. “tight little cunt acting like she doesn’t need me.”
you moan. you hate that he’s right. that your body’s betraying you, clenching around him, begging for more.
“fucking bastard,” you hiss, throwing your head back when he hits that spot deep inside you.
“say it again,” he pants, pounding into you. “call me every name you want, i know you’re close.”
“pathetic, arrogant, loud-mouthed little shit—” you gasp, legs shaking.
“that’s right,” he growls. “cum for me, fucking hate me while you do it.”
you do.
you fall apart under him, clenching around him so tight he swears and grabs your waist like he’s losing control.
and a second later, he’s cumming too—deep inside you, jaw clenched, eyes shut, letting out a low, broken groan of your name like it physically hurts.
the room’s silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing.
he collapses against you, forehead resting on your shoulder.
you push him off.
“we’re not doing this again,” you mutter, standing up and adjusting your clothes.
he smirks, still breathless, watching you like he already knows better.
“we’ll see, sweetheart.”
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he’s been staring at you like he wants to kill you since class started.
arms crossed, jaw clenched, foot tapping like a fucking metronome of rage.
you ignore him. or try to.
but when professor kim announces your proposal will lead the ensemble showcase, and not his—oh, the way his eyes meet yours. burning. hateful. hungry.
you smirk, just to piss him off.
after class, you don’t even make it out the door.
“come with me,” he snaps, grabbing your wrist, dragging you through the empty hallway before you can protest.
“fuck off, beomgyu—”
he pushes open an empty rehearsal room and shoves you inside.
you spin on him. “what the fuck is your problem?!”
“you are,” he growls, slamming the door shut. “fucking show-off. always need to win, huh?”
you scoff. “maybe if your idea hadn’t been shit—”
he grabs your face and kisses you so hard your back hits the wall, again.
and you let him.
because you’re both too far gone now.
you kiss him back, biting his lip, tugging his hair like you’re trying to hurt him—like you want him to hurt you back.
his hands are everywhere. under your shirt, gripping your waist, yanking down your pants without a word.
“so fucking full of yourself,” he mutters, yanking your underwear down roughly. “bet you soaked your panties the second you saw me lose.”
you slap him again.
he just grins. “hit me harder if you want, baby. i know you like it rough.”
you grab his belt, undoing it fast. “shut up and fuck me.”
“say please.”
“fuck you.”
he shoves you against the wall, lifts your leg, and thrusts in—raw, fast, brutal.
you cry out, hands slamming against the wall for support.
“god—fuck—beomgyu—”
“that’s right,” he pants, pounding into you like he wants to erase your fucking mind. “say my name. say it like you mean it.”
your moans echo through the empty room. it’s reckless. loud. stupid.
anyone could walk in.
and maybe that’s why it feels so good.
“you look so pretty when you lose control,” he growls, biting your neck. “not so smug now, huh?”
you clench around him, mouth open in a silent moan.
he hisses. “you’re close.”
“no—shut up—i’m not—”
“liar,” he snarls, fucking you deeper. “you’re so wet i can feel you shaking.”
“piece of shit—”
“say it again.”
“fuck you—”
“you are.”
he grabs your face again, kisses you hard, and you break—cumming around him with a cry you can’t hold back.
he follows seconds later, groaning against your mouth, cock twitching inside you as he spills himself deep.
you both freeze.
silence.
then—footsteps outside the door.
your eyes widen.
he smirks.
“we should do this more often.”
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he’s pacing in the classroom like a storm trapped in four walls. jacket thrown on the floor, hair a mess, frustration radiating off of him.
“i just don’t get how you always win,” he spits, glaring at the floor.
you raise an eyebrow, calm, bored. “because i’m better.”
he whips around. “fuck you.”
you smile. “you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
his breath catches. just for a second. and you see it.
that crack in his anger. the want under all that pride.
you stand, walking slowly to him.
“what’s wrong, gyu?” you murmur, dragging a finger up his chest. “you mad because you lost again? or because you can't stop thinking about how good i made you feel last time?”
his jaw tightens. his eyes drop to your lips.
“i hate you,” he says, but his voice is already shaking.
you hum. “lie better.”
and then your hand slips between his legs, cupping him over his jeans—slow. gentle. cruel.
he gasps. you feel how hard he is already.
“fuck—don’t—” he tries to step back.
you press your body into his, pinning him to the wall.
“don’t what?” you whisper against his ear. “don’t touch you? don’t make you beg?”
he whimpers.
actual whimpers.
“please…”
you grin.
“look at you,” you whisper. “so hard just from me teasing you. you want me that bad?”
he nods, red-faced, biting his lip.
“use your words, baby.”
“please,” he whispers, breathless, “please touch me. i need it. i need you.”
you pull back slightly, watching him.
he drops to his knees.
and that’s when your power hits him full force.
beomgyu, the cocky bastard, the arrogant top of your class, on the floor, looking up at you like you’re his fucking god.
“say it again.”
“please…” he swallows hard, pupils blown wide. “i need you to touch me. to use me. i’ll do anything. just—just don’t stop.”
you sit down on the chair, legs spread.
“come here.”
he crawls between your legs without hesitation.
you grab his jaw. “good boy.”
his breath stutters.
“can i… can i taste you?” he asks, voice so low and wrecked you barely hear it.
you smirk. “you can try.”
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after he buried his face between your thighs, you had to muffle your moans with your hand, desperate not to cry out. but it was pointless—the university was already empty, and anyone left wouldn’t dare come near that classroom with the way the air practically sizzled around you.
you should’ve left right then, should’ve played it safe. but the heat between you was too much, too consuming. so instead, you stumbled out together, breathless and shaking, and made it back to your apartment—ready to finish what you never should’ve started in public.
“you’re so pretty when you cry,” you murmur, dragging your fingers down his chest.
he’s panting, cheeks flushed, wrists tied to the bedpost with your silk scarf. thighs trembling. body covered in marks from your mouth.
his cock is red, leaking, twitching.
“please,” he chokes out, voice wrecked. “i-i can’t—please let me come—”
you tilt your head. “already?”
you’ve edged him three times now. never letting him finish. always pulling away just when his moans start turning desperate.
“you really are weak, aren’t you?” you coo, wrapping your fingers around him again, slowly, cruelly.
his head falls back with a loud whimper. “fuck—yes, i am, i am—just for you—”
“look at you,” you murmur, stroking him torturously slow. “the same guy who told me he hated me. now you’re begging like a good little slut.”
his whole body jolts.
you lean closer, lips brushing his ear. “you like it when i talk to you like that?”
he nods frantically, eyes glossy. “yes—yes, please—more—”
you tighten your grip, pace quickening.
“you like being mine?”
“yes—yes, i’m yours—only yours—please don’t stop—”
“you’re not gonna come yet,” you whisper. “not until i say so.”
he sobs, hips jerking, trying to chase the friction. “please—please, i’ll do anything—i’ll be so good—just let me—”
you straddle him.
his eyes widen.
you don’t even have to say anything—he’s already moaning.
“you wanna come inside me, baby?” you whisper, dragging your folds over his aching tip, not letting him in.
he’s shaking. “please, please, i need to, i need to—i’ll be good—fuck—i’ll make you feel so good, i swear—just let me—let me—”
you slide down onto him all at once.
his scream is broken. his whole body arches.
“thank you—fuck, thank you—” he babbles, clutching the headboard with white knuckles.
“you’re so deep,” you moan, starting to ride him, slow and heavy. “you feel so good when you shut up and take it.”
he’s sobbing now. overwhelmed. blissed out.
“gonna fill me up?” you whisper, kissing his jaw. “gonna come like the good little boy you are?”
he nods, barely able to speak. “yes—yes, please—please—can i—please—”
“do it,” you growl in his ear.
he breaks.
he cries out your name, cumming so hard it makes his entire body shake, eyes rolling back as he trembles under you. it doesn’t stop—he keeps twitching, breathless, whimpering, completely ruined.
you don’t stop moving.
his eyes widen in panic.
“w-wait—too much—i can’t—”
you just smirk.
“you said you’d do anything, baby. don’t disappoint me now.”
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you barely step inside the third-floor bathroom before you feel it.
the shift.
he’s already there, waiting — back against the wall, eyes on you like he’s been planning something. calculating. hungry.
but this time… he doesn’t look shy.
he doesn’t look desperate.
he looks like a fucking storm.
you close the door slowly, a smirk playing on your lips. “someone’s eager.”
he doesn’t answer.
he just pushes himself off the wall, takes three steps forward, and corners you against the door. his body flush against yours.
his voice is low, dark.
“you think you’re in control, don’t you?”
you blink, caught off guard.
“you think you can tease me in front of everyone, make me sit pretty and beg for you like a fucking toy,” he growls, gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “but you forget something, babe.”
his breath is hot against your ear.
“you want this just as bad as i do. and you’re not as untouchable as you act.”
you scoff, but it dies in your throat when he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other sliding down your waist and under your skirt like he owns every inch of you.
“gonna prove it,” he murmurs, kissing your jaw, then biting down harder than he should. “gonna fuck the brat out of you.”
“you’re dreaming if you think—”
“shut up,” he snaps, shoving his knee between your legs, forcing them open. “you had your turn. now it’s mine.”
your breath catches when he drops to his knees, yanks your underwear down and presses his mouth right where you need him. no warning. no build-up. just pure, messy heat.
you whimper, trying to squirm, but his grip on your thighs is brutal. “stay fucking still.”
he eats you like he’s starving.
like this is punishment.
like he wants to ruin you.
and he does — slowly. with groans that vibrate against your core. with tongue strokes that make your knees buckle. with lips that suck until you're gasping, trembling, begging—
“beomgyu, i’m gonna—”
he stops.
just like that.
you cry out in frustration, but he stands and shoves two fingers in your mouth, making you taste yourself.
“you don’t get to cum yet,” he smirks. “not until you say it.”
you glare at him, trying to keep whatever pride you have left. he leans in, lips brushing yours.
“say you need me.”
you don’t.
you won’t—
he grabs your hips and slams into you so hard you choke on your breath.
you almost scream, biting your hand to stay quiet as he fucks into you like he’s trying to destroy you. like he wants you sore. shaking. marked.
“say it,” he demands again, slamming deeper. “say you fucking need me.”
“fuck—i need you,” you gasp, losing it. “i fucking need you, okay?”
he smiles, dark and satisfied.
“good girl.”
and he keeps going.
you swear you black out a little when you finally cum, legs wrapped around him, walls clenching so tight he nearly loses control. but he doesn’t. he keeps going, overstimulating you until you're crying into his shoulder.
when he’s done, he pulls out, breathing hard, eyes glazed.
you’re a mess — flushed, dripping, lips bruised, hair wild.
he zips up, fixes his shirt, then grabs your jaw again.
“next time you wanna play boss,” he whispers, “remember who actually makes you fall apart.”
and then he’s gone — just like that.
leaving you shaking against the door, breathless, ruined.
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it’s late. everyone’s gone, except for you and beomgyu. you both stay back to finish up the final arrangements for the project. the studio is dim, the only light coming from the desk lamps and the soft glow of the instruments scattered around the room. a low hum of the sound system mixes with the quiet shuffle of papers as you go over the details. you’re too focused, too determined to let anything distract you. not even him.
but he’s watching you.
you feel it before you see him. his eyes on you, the way his gaze lingers too long, too intense. he’s not the quiet, obedient beomgyu you’re used to. no, tonight, there’s a shift in the air, something darker, something that makes your heartbeat quicken.
you look up at him. he’s standing near the piano, leaning against it with his arms crossed, his usual casual look replaced by a more dangerous edge. his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrowed in that way that makes your pulse race. his voice is rough when he finally speaks, cutting through the silence.
“you’ve been ignoring me all night,” he says, the words low and biting. “like i don’t fucking matter.”
you raise an eyebrow, setting your pen down slowly. “i’m busy,” you say, voice steady, though there’s a hint of something else in it. something that shows you know exactly where this is headed.
“busy?” his lips curl into a sneer as he pushes off the piano, taking a slow step toward you. “you were too busy when i was begging for your attention. and now… now you’re too busy to notice how badly i want you.”
the words hit you like a shockwave, and your breath catches. but you stand your ground. “and what do you want from me, beomgyu? you really think you can just—”
“shut up,” he growls, closing the distance between you in an instant. his hands grip your hips, pushing you back against the desk. the suddenness of it has you gasping, your breath hitching in your throat. “i’ve had enough of you acting like you’re in control. you’re not. not tonight.”
his hands slide up your waist, pinning you against the desk, and the heat between you is undeniable. you try to fight it, but you know—you know—you’re not going anywhere. he’s stronger. he’s in charge now.
he lifts you effortlessly, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spins you around, his lips brushing your ear as he presses his body against yours. “this project’s been a fucking joke, but i’m about to show you who’s really leading this.”
you shiver at the feel of his hot breath on your skin. you try to push back, but he’s already got you where he wants you. his hands roam over you like he’s starved, hungry for every inch of your body.
before you can react, his lips crash onto yours. the kiss is aggressive, desperate. his tongue pushes into your mouth with no warning, like he’s claiming you, taking you without hesitation. you moan into it, your own hands finding purchase on his shirt, tugging him closer.
he breaks the kiss with a growl, his lips trailing down your neck, nipping at your skin as his hands begin to strip you down. he’s rough, unrelenting, as if he’s been holding back for too long. and now, now he wants to punish you for making him wait.
“tell me,” he whispers, his fingers tugging at your shirt. “tell me you want me. say it, and i’ll give it to you. all of it.”
you swallow, trying to keep your composure. you’re not going to give him the satisfaction that easily. but beomgyu’s hands are everywhere—on your chest, your waist, pulling you closer until you can feel the hardness of him pressing against your stomach. you can’t deny it. you want him. god, you want him so badly. but you won’t admit it that easily.
“fuck you,” you spit out, pushing at his chest, though your body betrays you, grinding against him involuntarily.
beomgyu smirks, completely unphased. his eyes darken, and he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear again. “you will, bitch. you’re going to beg for it.”
suddenly, he spins you back around, shoving you against the desk once more. he’s fast, too fast for you to react, and before you can even think, he’s pulling your skirt up, exposing you. his fingers are already there, teasing, stroking over your sensitive skin with slow precision.
“tell me you want it,” he murmurs, voice thick with lust. “say it.”
you close your eyes, breathing hard, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as you feel him push against you. his movements are slow, torturous, his teasing driving you crazy.
“please…” you mutter, barely audible, but he hears it. that’s all he needs.
“good girl,” he says, his voice dark with satisfaction. “you don’t get to hold back anymore. not when i’m in control.”
then, he’s inside you. deep. hard. he doesn’t give you time to adjust, doesn’t give you time to breathe. the desk rattles under the force of his thrusts, your body rocking with each movement. his hands grip your hips, slamming into you with ruthless precision, fucking you like he owns you.
you cry out, your fingers digging into the desk, but he doesn’t care. he just keeps going, taking what he wants. you’re powerless against him, lost in the rhythm of his hips, the relentless pace he’s setting.
“tell me you need me,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he fucks you harder. “say it. now.”
“fuck,” you gasp, unable to stop the words that spill from your lips. “i need you, beomgyu. i fucking need you.”
his grin is wicked, satisfied. “good. now you’re mine.”
and he pushes you to the edge, pushing harder, faster, until you come undone. your body shakes with the force of your orgasm, your fingers gripping the desk so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks. and even when you think you can’t take anymore, he doesn’t stop. he keeps going, fucking you through it, until you’re begging for mercy.
your legs are shaking, but he doesn’t stop.
beomgyu grabs your arm, spinning you around again, his lips dragging down your neck, your collarbone, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. “did you think i was done with you?” he mutters, voice dripping with dark amusement. “we’re just getting started, baby.”
he lifts you like you weigh nothing and carries you to the worn leather couch in the corner of the studio. he drops you onto it and spreads your legs without hesitation. you don’t even have time to catch your breath before he drops to his knees and buries his face between your thighs.
“oh fuck—beomgyu—” your voice cracks as his tongue licks a long, slow stripe up your core.
his hands grip your thighs tightly, pinning you open as he devours you like he’s starving. he sucks, licks, flicks his tongue in maddening circles, then flattens it against your clit until your hips buck off the couch.
“taste so fucking good,” he growls, voice muffled against your wetness. “you gonna cum on my mouth, baby?”
you whimper, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “shit, yes—fuck—don’t stop—”
but he does stop. the bastard smirks up at you, lips wet, eyes burning. “nah. not yet. i want you ruined when i’m done.”
before you can curse him out, he’s pulling you up, flipping you over. your knees sink into the couch as he grabs your waist, angling your ass up. you barely manage to breathe before he’s slamming back into you from behind.
“fuck!” you cry out, your voice echoing off the walls. the angle is brutal, perfect. you’re melting, unraveling around him, every thrust punching the air out of your lungs.
“you hear that?” he pants, fucking you hard and fast. “that’s the sound of your pussy getting absolutely wrecked.”
you can barely answer, but your body responds—arching into him, pushing back, greedy for more. he grabs your hair, yanking your head back so he can whisper in your ear.
“you love this, don’t you? getting fucked like a little slut. look at you—can’t even talk, just taking my cock like you were made for it.”
you moan, dizzy from the filth spilling out of his mouth and the relentless way he’s driving into you.
then he flips you again, pulling you on top of him as he falls back onto the couch. “ride me,” he commands, hands gripping your ass. “show me how much you fucking want it.”
you don’t hesitate. you sink down onto him, both of you groaning at the contact. your hands grip his shoulders as you start to move—slow at first, then faster, grinding down as he thrusts up to meet you. the friction, the heat—it’s too much. you're bouncing on him like your life depends on it, tits bouncing, eyes locked on his as you both fall apart.
“fucking ride me, just like that. shit—look at you,” he groans, his head falling back, his fingers bruising your hips. “so fucking tight, fuck—gonna cum if you keep that up.”
you’re right there with him. you’re shaking, sweating, losing control. your climax builds like a tidal wave, and he knows. He feels it.
“you gonna cum, baby? gonna cream all over my cock like a good little slut?”
“fuck yes—yes—beomgyu—!” you scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your whole body convulsing as pleasure rips through you.
he follows right after, grabbing your hips, slamming you down onto him one last time as he spills inside you with a raw, guttural moan. you collapse on top of him, both of you panting, sweaty, ruined.
the studio is silent again, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the lazy hum of the soundboard. you’re both still half-naked on the couch, skin slick with sweat, catching your breath. beomgyu’s chest rises and falls beneath you, his fingers lazily tracing shapes on your bare back.
“you look fucked out,” he murmurs, smirking against your temple.
you hum, eyes closed. “that’s because you fucked me out.”
there’s a beat of silence. and then he chuckles—low, dark, dangerous. “not yet...”
before you can respond, he’s flipping you over again, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, his body hovering over yours.
“beomgyu, what the fuck—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss so filthy, so consuming, it leaves you gasping.
his voice is gravel when he pulls back. “you think i’m done with you? you really think that was enough?” his knee parts your thighs again, sliding between them, pressing right where you're still throbbing. “you’re dripping for me, baby. don’t even try to lie.”
you arch into him involuntarily, and he grins like he owns you. “god, you’re fucking desperate. like a little cum-drunk slut.”
he lets go of your wrists and slides down your body, dragging his tongue along your stomach, your hipbone, your inner thigh—until he's right where you need him again. he spreads you open and stares, admiring the mess he made of you.
“fuck, look at you,” he growls. “so wrecked. so perfect.”
then his mouth is on you again. this time, it’s not teasing. it’s relentless. his tongue fucks into you, circles your clit, sucks until you're writhing, crying out, begging.
“please—please, fuck—”
but he doesn’t stop there.
he stands, wiping his mouth, then grabs you by the waist and drags you to the edge of the couch. “on your knees,” he orders, voice rough. “hands on the floor. ass up.”
you obey without thinking—your body knows what it wants now. you feel his hand grip your ass, spreading you wide, and then the thick head of his cock pressing back inside you.
he grabs your jaw suddenly, fingers sliding between your lips, forcing them open. “open up,” he growls, his voice low and demanding. you moan around his fingers as he shoves them deep into your mouth, pressing them down on your tongue. “suck,” he commands, and you do—eyes fluttering shut, lips wrapped around his fingers like it’s instinct.
“that’s it, baby. just like that,” he murmurs, pulling them out slick and glistening, only to trail them down your body—between your thighs—before lining himself up again. “now i’m gonna fuck you nice and deep, just how you like it. don’t fucking run.”
he bottoms out in one thrust.
you scream.
“yeah, that’s right,” he pants, thrusting deep and hard. “let them fucking hear you. let everyone know how good I fuck this tight little pussy.”
the position hits everything. his hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling your body up as he fucks you like an animal. it’s filthy, raw, and fucking perfect.
“say it,” he demands. “say you’re mine.”
“i’m yours,” you gasp, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. “i’m fucking yours, beomgyu.”
he growls, slamming into you harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the studio. “damn right you are.”
and then he flips you over one more time—flat on your back this time, legs over his shoulders as he pounds into you, eyes locked on yours like he wants to watch every second of you coming apart again.
“you’re gonna cum for me again, baby,” he says between ragged breaths. “you’re gonna soak my cock, and then i’m gonna fill you up again. you want that?”
“fuck, yes—please—do it—”
that’s all it takes. your orgasm hits like a damn freight train, your whole body seizing up as he keeps thrusting, watching you shatter beneath him.
and when you cum, crying his name, he loses it.
he buries himself deep, groaning as he spills inside you again, hips twitching, body shaking. and then he collapses on top of you, both of you gasping for air, completely, utterly wrecked.
you lie there in silence, your body trembling from overstimulation, your mind fuzzy with pleasure.
“you’re not leaving this studio tonight.”
after a long moment, he strokes your back lazily and mutters, “next time you ignore me, i’ll fuck you right on top of the damn mixing board.”
you laugh breathlessly, still trembling. “i dare you.”
“oh, you will, sweetheart,” he smirks, voice low and dangerous. “you fucking will.”
“we’re not leaving this studio tonight.”
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