ficscollection

[ficscollection]

just one time, right? 2️⃣

you asked and I delivered, here's part two!! enjoy <33333

this is a part 2/sequel of “just one time, right?”. i highly suggest reading it first before proceeding with this one!

pairings: pervy roommate!beomgyu x fem reader

tags/warnings: smut/nsfw content, minors dni!! friends to ???, more angst! slow burn, mutual pining(Y/N is still kinda confused lol), masturbation, oral(m and f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it!!), creampie, gyu is whiny and desperate (he also gets kinda manipulative at some point), fluff, there's probably more I forgot to mention.

wordcount: 7.5k!!

fic below the cut!!

------------------------

It’s been two weeks since that night.

Two weeks since you've kissed your friend. Two weeks since you've let him touch you in ways no one else ever has—since you've made a deal that you’ve repeated in your head so many times that it’s starting to feel less like a rule and more like a lie.

Still, things have stayed the same…on the surface.

You’ve both slipped back into your normal routines—laundry days, late-night ramen runs, and bickering over who left the bathroom light on. Everything looks the same from the outside; You laugh at his dumb jokes, you fight over the game controller like nothing’s changed. Like you didn’t just moan his name with your face buried in his pillow once.

Everything is back to the way it was.

Except…it’s not. Not really.

Because now, you’re aware of him. Really aware of him.

You catch him watching you during dinner, his chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth, eyes lingering just a little too long on your lips as you ramble about your day. When you're sitting on the floor playing games, your knees brushing his just slightly, and he doesn't move it. Sometimes, you catch the warmth of his hand ghosting over the small of your back when he reaches around you for the remote or a drink, like it’s innocent. Like it’s normal.

And you notice.

God, you notice.

You tried to ignore it at first, but how could you? Especially when you can feel your breath hitch when he's a little closer than usual. Your heartbeat skip when he smiles at you in a way that makes your thoughts go haywire. You’re becoming hyper-aware of him in a way that has nothing to do with friendship and everything to do with the way he made you feel that night.

But you tell yourself it’s nothing: You're just confused. A temporary glitch in your brain. Hormones. Residual tension. Whatever excuse you could come up with.

Because if you admit it’s more than that, if you admit you want him again—maybe even miss him—then you have to admit that something between you shifted, that the line you both crossed didn’t disappear after you pulled your dress back on and closed his door.

You keep thinking about what he said that night.

“I’ve always wanted to do this to you.”

“I always thought you were attractive.”

You've been replaying those words in your mind on loop, dissecting them from every possible angle like a problem you’re desperate to solve.

He said he’s wanted you. He's attracted to you. Wanted to touch you. Make you feel good. That much was obvious. But you’ve been clinging to the difference—wanting someone isn’t the same as liking them.

Not in the real way. Not in the “I think about you when you're not around, I want to wake up next to you, I want to know every messy part of you and stay anyway” kind of way.

Maybe it was just about sex. Chemistry. Timing.

Maybe you were just convenient.

And Beomgyu…he’s not the type to—

A soft knock on your door cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

You blink, your heart skipping like it got caught off rhythm. You clear your throat and call out,“Yeah?”

The door creaks open just a little, and Beomgyu peeks his head in.

“Hey,” he says casually. His voice is soft, but it still ripples through you like a shiver. “Just wanted to let you know I’m heading out to meet the guys. I’ll probably be back late, so I won’t be around for dinner.”

You sit up instinctively, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and trying very hard not to let your gaze linger. He’s wearing that loose black hoodie he always pairs with ripped jeans and his usual silver chain.

Nothing out of the ordinary, but something about the way it all hangs on him tonight, effortless and cool, makes your stomach flip.

Of course it does.

He’s just standing there. Being him. And somehow that’s enough to throw you off balance.

You nod quickly, too quickly, before responding,“That’s fine. You didn’t have to tell me, you could’ve just… texted.”

He shrugs, leaning a little against the doorframe.“I just figured I’d say it in person.”

His eyes linger for a moment longer, just long enough to make your chest tighten before he reaches for the handle.

“Don’t wait up.” he says softly.

He starts to pull the door behind him when, without thinking, the words tumble from your mouth.

“Beomgyu—wait.”

You don’t even know why you said that. It’s out before your brain catches up, and the door pauses, just a sliver of him still visible. Then, slowly, he peeks his head back in.

His brows are raised slightly in surprise. “Yeah?”

He’s looking at you like you’ve said something important, and now you have to figure out what that something is. Your mouth opens, then closes. Your thoughts are scattered. You wish you had something clever to say, anything that didn’t make your heart feel like it’s about to burst out of your chest.

“I just…” You shift on the bed, your fingers clutching the blanket a little too tightly.

“Can we…talk? Sometime?”

There’s a brief pause. He tilts his head just slightly, looking at you with softened eyes. And then, he nods. A small, quiet motion, but the understanding in his gaze nearly knocks the air from your lungs.

“Yeah, Y/N.” He says,“We can talk.”

“Not right now, of course,” you add quickly, waving a hand,“I mean—you don’t have to. Just… whenever you're ready.”

He gives you a small smile—gentle, warm, a little crooked in the way that always makes your stomach do that stupid thing.

“Okay,” he says,“Let's talk soon.”

And just like that, he’s gone again, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

But this time, the silence he leaves behind feels different. The air suddenly feels heavier for some reason.

-----------------

You’ve shifted in bed at least twenty times now, changed positions, adjusted your blanket, flipped your pillow over for the cooler side—none of it works.

You lie there, eyes wide open and locked onto the ceiling like it might offer some relief, but it doesn’t. It just stares right back, blank and unmoving, while your thoughts swirl like a storm you can’t escape.

Beomgyu.

That night.

You close your eyes tightly as you try to ignore the thoughts that are running through your head, but no matter what you do, you can't seem to stop thinking about him—about what happened.

You remember the heat of his breath against your neck, the pressure of his hips against yours, the sounds he made whenever you moaned into his mouth.

You can't stop thinking about how his body felt on yours, how good it felt to have him on top of you, how good it felt when he was rubbing his cock on your pussy.

You sigh in frustration and close your eyes once more. You turn around on your bed and cover your face with a pillow.

As much as you try to deny yourself, he's all you could ever think about. You've been wanting him again since that night.

You try to push those thoughts away, or forget it even happened, but it's no use. Your body remembers; It aches with the memory of him.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate how badly you still want him— even when you’ve told yourself so many times that it was a one-time thing, that it wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

Before you know it, your hand slides under the hem of your shirt, tentative at first. You don’t even realize what you’re doing until your fingers graze your skin and your breath catches.

You imagine it’s him. His hands, not yours. His lips at your throat. His voice low and rough, praising you, teasing you. You imagine him kissing you like he's been starved of it. You imagine his weight on top of yours as he touches you.

You want him. You want him so bad that you couldn't think straight.

You take off your shorts and throw it across the room. You start touching yourself, imagining that it was him.

Your hand moves with purpose, mimicking the rhythm of his hips that you so vividly remember from that night. You start imagining him rubbing his cock on your clit. You start imagining his cock sliding between your folds. You start imagining him fucking you.

“Mmm…” you moan softly as your fingers brush against your clit slowly.

Two of your fingers slip inside you, and you gasp at the sudden fullness. They curl upward, and you can't help but arch your back into the pillow, imagining his strong arms holding you down, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

You pump your fingers in and out, increasing the tempo, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge. You're lost in the fantasy, in the delicious torture of wanting him so badly that it physically hurts.

“More please, Beomgyu...” You whisper as you imagine his tongue tracing the line of your collarbone, his teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh, making you squirm and moan for more.

Your thumb circles your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle the cry that threatens to escape. Your body tightens, a coil of pleasure winding up tighter and tighter.

“Ahh...! Beomgyu!!” you groan, crying out his name as you come all over your fingers. Your legs start shaking, and your pussy clenches at nothing. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, and you ride it out.

When you come down from your high, you realize what you've just done. You’re still lying there, chest rising and falling slowly as your pulse calms, but something else starts to settle in the stillness.

Guilt.

Not the light, teasing kind, but the kind that coils in your gut, low and heavy and cold.

Because as the warmth fades from your limbs, reality floods back in—and it hits you all at once.

You just touched yourself.

To the thought of Beomgyu.

Your best friend.

Your roommate.

The same Beomgyu who made you laugh through hangovers, who stayed up with you when you were heartbroken, who’s seen you in ratty pajamas and no makeup and still called you cute just to make you roll your eyes. The same Beomgyu who held you that night two weeks ago like he’d been waiting forever to do it.

But still.

You haven’t even talked since then. Not really. Not about what happened, not about what it meant.

And here you are, lying in your bed in the middle of the night, using the memory of him to get off like it’s some casual fantasy. Like it didn’t mean anything.

But it did. You know it did.

But now, in the dark, tangled up in guilt and craving, you can’t lie to yourself about it. Not really.

You sit up slowly, the weight of it all pressing down on your shoulders. Shame crept up your neck, your cheeks. You run a hand through your hair, exhaling hard, like you could push the thoughts out of your head if you just breathed hard enough.

You haven’t even figured out what you feel yet.

You don’t even know if he likes you. Not the way you’ve started to think about him when it’s quiet. When you let your guard down.

You just know that it felt good, so so good—to pretend; To imagine that he wanted you like that, that he meant what he said that night, that it wasn’t just lust, that it could be more.

You stand up on shaky legs, reaching for your towel with the hope that a hot shower might scrub the thoughts off your skin. You don’t even make it three steps before you hear your phone buzz behind you.

You pause for a moment before turning back.

The screen lights up like a curse. You catch a glimpse of a text notification from Beomgyu appear through your lock screen. You stare at the message.

Beomgyu: I can hear you.

You freeze in place.

The air leaves your lungs in one short, panicked gasp.

No. No fucking way.

Your fingers hover over the screen for a second too long. Your mind is in chaos, racing, spiraling. The longer you wait, the more it feels like you have to say something before the silence turns lethal.

So you type without thinking, leaning on denial like it’s your last defense.

You: what are you talking about?

You hit send and immediately regret it. It’s flimsy. Weak. Painfully obvious. You can already picture the smirk pulling at his lips as he reads it.

His reply is almost immediate.

Beomgyu: I heard you moan my name just now. I know I wasn’t just imagining things.

You flinch, your mouth falling open just slightly.

The flush creeps up your neck so fast you have to sit down. You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself against the full weight of humiliation crashing down on you.

Your hands tremble as you reply again, more desperate this time, like maybe there’s still a way to make this go away.

You: but you literally aren't even home yet??

The dots appear. Then stop. Then appear again.

And then,

Beomgyu: You seriously think I’m still out?

You immediately shift your attention to the top of your phone. Your eyes widen when you see that it's already 1:50 AM.

When did it get so late?

You’d been so lost in your thoughts, so lost in him, that the hours slipped right through your fingers. You’d convinced yourself you were alone, when really… he was here. Maybe in the room next door. Maybe just on the other side of the wall.

And he heard you.

The silence stretches now, this time from you. You stare at the screen, not knowing what to say, not even sure what you could say.

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you finally realize what's happening. You didn't even think that he might already be home.

You set the phone down, cover your face with your hands, and groan softly into your palms.

Then — another buzz.

You felt your heart jump into your throat.

You reach for it hesitantly, scared of what he might’ve said next. And when you finally gather the courage to look:

Beomgyu: I’m so hard right now. I need you. Help me out?

You freeze, fingers gripping the edges of your phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to the moment. Your heart is pounding — hard enough that you feel it echo in your throat.

You don't know what to say. You don't know how to respond.

Beomgyu: Y/N, please?

Your thumbs hover, unsure and nervous, but also... curious.

You: how?

You hit send before you can talk yourself out of it.

The moment stretches. A beat. Two.

Then, your screen lights up again.

Beomgyu: I’m outside your door.

You jolt, head snapping toward the door like it might vanish if you blink.

He’s here?

Like, right now?

You sit up straighter, adrenaline rushing through you in one wild, dizzying wave. You don’t even remember hearing his footsteps— didn’t hear the hallway creak or his soft knock.

But now, he’s standing just on the other side of that door. Waiting.

Your phone buzzes again.

Beomgyu: Open the door for me, please?

Your breath hitches.

With trembling hands, you retrieve your discarded shorts and panties from the floor, sliding them back on in a hasty attempt to regain some semblance of decency.

You take a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before you tiptoe to the door. You pause, one last second of hesitation before slowly pulling it open. The soft click of the lock sounding louder than a gunshot in the stillness of the night.

And there he is.

Beomgyu.

His hair is a mess, like he’d been running his fingers through it over and over. He’s still dressed in what he wore earlier. That effortlessly casual fit that always looked too good on him, but now it’s a little rumpled, like he’d been pacing or shifting anxiously.

His chest is rising and falling faster than usual. And when his eyes meet yours, it knocks the air right out of you.

There's something hungry in them. Unmistakable.

He looks like he wants to say something— maybe explain, maybe apologize — but all of it dies on his tongue as his gaze sweeps over you. Slowly. Almost reverently.

Like you’re the only thing he sees.

And when his eyes return to yours, they’re darker now, filled with something raw, something intense.

He's looking at you with so much hunger in his eyes that it makes you weak in the knees. He looks like he wants to devour you. He looks like he needs you; Like he can't wait another second without you, like he’s barely holding himself back.

You open your mouth slightly to speak, but before you can even say anything, he's already on you.

He pushes you back into your room and closes the door behind him. He pushes you down onto your bed and gets on top of you. He starts kissing you passionately, like he's been wanting to do this for so long.

His hands explore you, tracing the familiar curves and planes of your body, igniting every nerve with each touch. The kiss deepens, and you lose yourself in it—breathless and dizzy.

“Beomgyu,” you murmur against his lips, the sound barely a whisper but loaded with feeling.

He breaks away slowly, eyes dark and shimmering with something raw and desperate.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, his voice thick and husky with desire that it's coming out almost shaky,“I need you. I need you so bad, it’s driving me crazy.”

You hesitate, looking away quickly, your cheeks burning, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.

“I wanted to talk to you first,” you whisper, “About what happened. Before… before anything else.”

His bottom lip trembles, and his voice drops to a whiny, almost heartbreaking tone.

“That’s not fair,” he says, sounding half upset, half desperate.

“You just—you got off thinking about me, and now that I'm here you won’t even help me? Please, Y/N…” He cups your face, turning your head slightly to make you face him,“Don't beat yourself up about this. We both know you want it. We both know that you want me. I can feel it.”

You couldn't speak. His breathy voice, full of desperation and need, suddenly sends a jolt of electricity throughout your body. He's so close to you, and it's making you dizzy with want.

But you can't just jump into this again without even talking about what happened. That's not how it should be.

“Beomgyu...I—” You try to say something, but you can't. He senses your hesitation, and his eyes soften a little.

You try to pull back, but he tightens his hold gently, eyes begging.“It's okay. We can talk about this afterwards...but right now,” he murmurs, voice cracking,“I need you, please.”

His desperation is almost heartbreaking, and despite every warning in your mind, your body betrays you with a tremble.

He's asking you for permission. He's giving you a chance to back out, but you don't want to. You want this. You want him. And that's all that matters right now.

You nod slowly, giving him the permission he's asking for. You move your hand to the back of his head, slightly pulling him in closer. He gets the hint and immediately captures your lips with his once more.

His hand trails down your body, touching and caressing you everywhere. He knows what he's doing, and it's driving you crazy. His hands are so warm on your skin, and his lips are so soft against yours.

You can't get enough of him. You want more and more of him. You want all of him.

His lips trail down to your neck, kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin there. His teeth graze your skin, and it sends shivers down your spine. He's making you feel so good, and you can't get enough of it. He's driving you crazy with desire.

“Been wanting to do this again, couldn't stop thinking about it…” he pulls away just a little, his lips moving up to your ear. He licks your earlobe teasingly as he whispers into your ear, his voice breathy and desperate.

“Fuck, Y/N. You don't know what you do to me.”

He bites your earlobe, and you moan in response. His lips trail down your neck once more, this time to your collarbone. He kisses and licks at the skin there, making you even more aroused.

You can feel his hard cock on your thigh, strained by his pants and it's making you even wetter. You want it. You need it inside of you.

“Beomgyu, please…” You beg, wanting more of him.

He looks up at you and smirks. He knows what you want. He knows what you need.

His lips start trailing down to your chest, his hand pushing your shirt up to reveal your breasts to him. He starts sucking on one of your nipples, making you moan in pleasure. His other hand is squeezing and caressing your other breast, making you even more turned on.

“Beomgyu—!” You can't help but moan as he bites and sucks on your nipples. The sensation was driving you to the edge.

He switches to your other breast, giving it the same attention as the other one. His hand is on your thigh now, trailing up to your pussy. He starts rubbing it through your panties, and you can't help but squirm at the sensation.

“You're so fucking wet, I wanna eat you out. Can I? Please?” He asks as he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

You nod, unable to say no to him, not when he's looking at you like that. And especially not when you want it too. He smirks and immediately takes off your panties. He throws them across the room before diving in, eager to taste you.

His mouth is on your pussy, licking and sucking on your clit. His tongue flicks at the sensitive bud, making you moan even louder. He's eating you out like a starving man, like he can't get enough of you. And you love it. You love the way he's making you feel. You love how he's pleasuring you.

His tongue enters your hole, making you moan out his name. His finger enters you as well, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. His mouth is still on your clit, sucking and licking at it. Adding another finger inside you, he starts to fuck you harder with his fingers, his tongue still on your clit. And it's driving you insane.

“Feels so good...Ah—Beomgyu!” you scream out, the feeling of his tongue and fingers on you all at once becoming too much for your to handle.

You can't help but move your hips, trying to get more friction. You want more of him. You need more of him.

You feel yourself getting close and close to your release, but Beomgyu suddenly stops.

You look at him, confused and frustrated at the same time. You were so close, and yet...

“Shit. Sorry, Y/N,” he pulls away from your cunt, his face covered with your juices as he apologizes. His voice is breathy and shaky as he quickly takes off his clothes.

“S-sorry…I can't hold it…need you to touch me…” He says as he hurries to take off his hoodie. His hands are quick to unbuckle his belt, and soon he's pulling his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock. He throws his clothes across the room, not caring where it lands.

You take him in, his naked frame hovering above you. You can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight of him.

Heat rushes straight to your core as you take in the sight of his naked body. Your cunt is leaking, and you know you’re already wet for him.

He sees the shift in your expression, and a knowing smirk forms on the corners of his lips. His eyes darken with lust as he looks at you, taking in the way you’re looking at his body. He knows you like what you see.

Without saying anything, he takes your hand and slowly guides it to his hard cock. It’s already leaking pre-cum, and you can feel the heat radiating from it. You can see the pre-cum oozing out of the tip, and you find yourself licking your lips at the sight. You want to taste him. You want to feel his cock in your mouth.

He moans softly as your hand wraps around his cock. You start pumping it, feeling him twitch in your hand as you stroke him.

“F-fuck, Y/N…keep going…” He moans, his eyes closing in pleasure as you move your hand faster.

However, your hand slows down as you lean closer to him. You plant a kiss on the tip of his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes— as if asking for his permission to take him into your warm mouth.

His eyes open at the sudden change of pace, and he looks at you through hooded eyes. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. He’s looking at you with so much need and desire that it makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, like you’re the only one who can satisfy him.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice breathy and hot with need,“You wanna suck me off?”

“Mhmm...” You nod, looking at him expectantly.“Can I?” You ask, your voice soft and gentle. He groans at your words, his hips bucking slightly.

Beomgyu's eyes widen a fraction, and he nods vigorously, the anticipation thick in the air.“Yes, yes, please.” He whispers, his voice strained with need.

You lean in, your plush lips wrapping around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the tip as you taste the saltiness of his pre-cum. You take him in deeper, inch by inch, feeling his size stretch your mouth. His eyes roll back in pleasure, his hands finding your hair, threading through the strands as he guides your movements.

You suck him with a passionate hunger that matches his own, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper, your tongue sliding along the underside of his shaft. The room fills with the sound of your wet, sloppy mouth working him over, and his harsh breaths and grunts of pleasure.

He's so hard, and you know you're doing it right. You moan around his cock, the vibration sending shivers through him.

“Feels so fucking good...” He gasps, his grip on your hair tightening.

You look up at him, your eyes watering slightly, but you don't stop. You love the way he looks at you when you're like this, like you're the only thing in the world that matters to him.

And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he pulls away, panting,“Wait—not like this, Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with need.“I want to be inside you when I cum.”

Your heart skips a beat and you nod, your cheeks flushed at his words. You're ready for him. You're ready to feel him inside you. You want him to fill you up, to make you his. And you know he wants it just as much as you do.

He moves closer to you, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, claiming you. His hands roam your body, touching every inch of you. His touch sets your skin on fire, and you feel like you're going to explode with need. You’re desperate for his touch, your body aching for his cock.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. He positions his cock at your entrance, making you gasp as his warm cock slips between your wet folds. He rubs himself on your slit, making you even wetter.

“Fuck…” He breathes out, hissing curses under his breath as he feels how wet you are.

You feel his tip hitting your sensitive clit, and you can’t help but moan.

“Beomgyu...stop teasing…” You groan, your grip on his arm tightening.

You can’t take it anymore. You need him inside you. Now. You’re so wet, and you can feel your juices running down your thighs. You want to feel every inch of him inside you. You need to feel him stretch you out, to feel him pumping in and out of your tight hole. You want to feel your cunt gripping his cock like a vice. You want to be his, and you want him to be yours. And you want it all right now.

You move your hand from his arms to cup his cheek. You gaze at his dark, lust-filled eyes, your fingers moving to touch his soft, swollen lips.

“Please… I need you inside…” You manage to breathe out.

You know there’s no turning back after this, but you don’t care. You want him. You need him. You can’t deny yourself anymore. You can’t deny the way you feel about him. You’ve wanted him since that night, and now you have him.

He looks down at you, his eyes filled with so much desire that you can’t help but feel like you’re going to combust. His fucked-out face immediately darkens, like a switch has been flipped.

“Yeah? How badly do you wanna have it, huh?” He coos, his voice husky and teasing. His fingers find your clit once more, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub. You throw your head back and moan, unable to control yourself. His touch is driving you crazy with want. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s making you feel things you’ve never felt before.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.“How badly do you want my cock inside you? Tell me, baby.” He whispers, his hot breath fanning over your ear.

You felt heat rush to your core at his words, the pet name sending shivers all over your body, your pussy clenching at the thought of finally having him inside you.

“I need it,” you whisper back, your voice breathy with need.“I need your cock, Beomgyu. Want you to fill me up, please…” You moan, your hips bucking up to meet his fingers.

He groans, and you can feel his cock twitch against your slit. He wants you just as much as you want him.

“Please, Beomgyu…” You beg, your hands gripping his hair tightly,“Please, I need you…” Your voice trails off into a soft moan as his fingers continue to work on your clit.

“Fuck…” You hear him whisper, his voice strained.“You want my cock that bad, huh? Gonna feel so fucking good, baby… gonna make you feel so good…” He smirks, his eyes gleaming with desire as he continues to rub your clit.

You nod, biting your lip as you look up at him,“Yes… yes… please… Beomgyu, I need it… want your cock so bad…” You moan out, your hands moving to grip his arms.

He groans again, his cock twitching against your slit once more.“Fuck, if you keep begging like that… I'm gonna give you what you want, baby… Gonna fill you up so good…” He whispers, his voice husky with lust.

He slowly pushes inside you, inch by inch. You gasp as you feel him stretching you out. His cock is so big, and it feels so good inside you; It felt so much better than you ever imagined.

“Ah!” You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as you feel him bottoming out. He’s so deep inside you, and it feels amazing.

He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, but he soon starts moving, pulling out until just the tip is in before slamming back inside. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He starts pumping in and out, his thrusts becoming faster and harder. His cock is hitting all the right spots, and you know you won’t last long.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” He moans out, his voice strained.“So fucking wet… just for me…” He bites his lip, his eyes rolling back in pleasure.“You like that? You like my cock inside your tight little hole, baby?” He looks down at you with a grin, his thrusts never stopping.

“Yes!” You can’t help but cry out as you feel your orgasm approaching.“Yes, yes, Beomgyu! Mmmh..!!” His name is a moan on your lips, and he loves the sound of it. He loves the way you're moaning his name.

“Yeah? You love my cock, don’t you?” He smirks as he thrusts even harder and faster into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Yes! Yes, I love it! Feels so good!” You moan out, unable to stop yourself. You love the way his cock feels inside you. It feels so right. It feels like it belongs there.

He grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic,“I'm about to cum soon, baby…” He groans out, “Wanna cum inside you so bad, make you mine… gonna let me fill you up?” His eyes darken with need as he looks down at you.

“Yes! Yes! Please, Beomgyu! I'm so close... please..!!” You beg, your orgasm nearing. You want to cum on his cock so badly. You want to feel it inside you when you cum. You need it.

He smirks down at you as he thrusts harder and faster. You feel yourself reach your high as you start cumming, your pussy clenching around his cock tightly. He groans, his thrusts slowing down as he cums deep inside you.

You feel his hot cum filling you up, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips. It feels so good, so right.

“Fuck, Y/N…” He moans as he pulls out, his cum leaking out of your pussy. You look at him, your eyes filled with desire and satisfaction. You know you made the right choice. You know this is what you wanted. You wanted him. And now you have him. And it felt amazing.

He soon rolls over to his back, breathing heavily from his release. You turn to your side to face him, and you soon find yourself drowning in thoughts once again, the ones you buried before when you made your decision, the feelings you never had the courage to express.

And the reality hits you once again.

You just fucked your roommate.

You just let your best friend cum inside you like it was the most normal thing to do.

You don’t even know if he feels the same way as you do. If he likes you more than a friend. If he wanted you more than just sex. You don't even fucking know if he wants you again after this.

You were about to spiral once again when you felt his fingers glaze over your ear, tucking a strand of hair that was blocking your face. You’re immediately snapped out of it when you meet his gaze. He looks at you intently, like he’s trying to convey everything without words. You felt your heart skipping a beat when he looks at you like that, like you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. You see the expression in his eyes shift, but this time it’s different; It's not filled with lust.

His eyes are filled with something you’re more familiar with, one you always see in his eyes when he looks at you but tries his best to hide— the way he always looked at you like this but pretends it’s not what it looks like.

“Do you… like me?” You blurt out, immediately regretting it the moment you did.

He's taken aback, and you mentally slapped yourself.

That was so stupid! Why did you do that? Why did you have to ask that?! What if he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore after this? What if—

“Are you kidding, Y/N?” Beomgyu says seriously, almost offended as if you asked him if the Earth is flat.

You look at him like a deer caught in the headlights, not knowing what to say.

“Of course I do,” he says with finality, his tone leaving no room for argument. You blink in surprise, not expecting him to answer that so fast.

“You’re my best friend. I love spending time with you. I can't spend a day without thinking about you. I like you… I like you so much.” He looks at you with his signature smile, the one he always gives you when he’s teasing you. But this time, there’s no teasing. There’s no denying. It’s all out there in the open. You see the sincerity in his eyes, the fondness, the love. You see everything.

“Yeah. I like you, Y/N. Fuck, more than that, actually. I’m in love with you, and have been for so long,” he says, a hint of shyness in his voice as he admits his feelings.

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. The realization hits you, and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. He likes you. He’s been in love with you this whole time, and he's finally telling you. And he’s not just saying it because he wants to have sex with you again— He’s saying it because it’s true. He’s saying it because he means it. He’s saying it because you’re asking him to.

“Since when?” You find yourself asking, your voice barely a whisper. You're in shock. You can't believe you're actually having this conversation with him.

Beomgyu chuckles softly,“Since the day I met you. You caught my eye the moment I saw you.” He looks into your eyes, his gaze soft.“You stole my heart from the moment you first smiled at me,” he confesses, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, your voice still soft, but this time there's a tinge of sadness in your voice.

“I was afraid. Afraid of losing you. Afraid of ruining what we had. I was content with just being your friend, your roommate.” He sighs, his eyes looking away from yours, “But then that night happened. And I couldn’t hide it anymore. I couldn’t pretend anymore.” He turns to look at you again.

“I couldn’t stop myself from kissing you. I couldn't help but want you for myself.”

The moment he said that, everything suddenly clicked. You felt so stupid for not realizing this sooner.

You suddenly remembered all those times you became more aware of him when he lingered his gaze on you for just a second longer than he should have. His soft touches that were just a little too long. The way he knew exactly what your favorite foods are, and he’d buy them for you. The way he’d put his games on hold just to listen to you rant about your day. The way he would tell you to stop going out on dates with guys, even though he wouldn’t say why. You thought he was just being nice. You thought he was being a good roommate, a good friend. You thought that’s just how he is.

But now you know the truth. He did it all because he loves you. He did it all for you, because of you.

Because he's in love with you.

You felt your heart beating so fast at the realization, your head dizzy with thoughts you never thought possible.

“Beomgyu…” You start, unsure of how to continue. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know where this is going. You don’t know if this changes anything. You don’t know…

“It’s okay,” he says, as if reading your mind. “You don’t have to figure it out right now,” he reassures you.

“No, I—It’s just…” You trail off, looking away from his gaze.

You don’t know how to tell him. You don’t know how to put into words all the thoughts that are running in your head right now.

“It’s just… I never thought of you in that way… I always thought that I was looking too much into it whenever I noticed how you tried to make me aware of you… it was never anything more than that to me before, but then… after that night… I- I didn’t want to stop thinking about it… about you… I couldn't get you out of my head... and I don’t know what it means, I-”

The words came tumbling out of your mouth without you even noticing, but you knew he can already piece it all together.

You look up at him, expectantly, almost pleading him to help you understand what you're feeling. He just chuckles and kisses you on the forehead, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sorry, you’re just too cute, I couldn’t help it.” He mutters, his eyes filled with fondness as he stares at you. You feel your cheeks heating up, and you don’t know what else to say. You just feel your heart skip a beat.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” he starts, his voice soft and reassuring,“It’s okay to not know how you feel right now. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just… I just wanted to let you know how I feel. I wanted you to know that I’m here for you, no matter what.” His eyes are filled with sincerity, and you can see the truth in his words.

He’s telling the truth. He means it. And you can feel it in your heart.

He loves you. And you love him.

You want to tell him, to let him know, but you don’t want to say anything you’ll regret.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Beomgyu, I'm—” You start again, looking him in the eyes.

“I…” You trail off again, your mind going in circles. You don’t want to make a mistake.

You don’t want to hurt him, but you also don’t want to lie to him.

You don’t want him to think that you don’t care.

You don’t want him thinking that you don’t feel anything for him.

You open your mouth again, trying to find the right words, but Beomgyu cuts off your attempt.

“You don’t happen to have any plans today, do you?” He says suddenly, catching you off guard.

You shake your head immediately, confused by the change of topic.

“Great. Then go on a date with me, and you can tell me how you feel then.” He smiles, that annoying, confident smirk of his plastered on his face.

You're stunned. You can't believe what he just said. You can't believe he just asked to take you out, but at the same time, you can't help but feel the warmth in your chest. You feel like you're feeling everything all at the same time.

You take a deep breath and manage to get your words out.

“Okay. Let’s do that.”

He smiles and kisses you again, this time on the lips. You can’t help the butterflies that flutter in your stomach, and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“Now, go take a shower and get ready. I’ll take you out on the best date ever.”

You laugh and roll your eyes,“Pretty confident there, aren’t we?” You tease him.

“Of course. I’ve seen all your failed attempts at dating. I know what not to do now,” he chuckles.“Plus, I’m going to show you how much you’ve been missing out on by not dating me sooner,” he adds, that annoying smirk back on his face again.

You roll your eyes again at his remark, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads in your chest. He’s being so absurd, so full of himself… and yet, it makes your stomach do somersaults. It makes your heart skip a beat. It makes you smile.

You hit his chest playfully, pushing him away from you.“Ugh, whatever. Just go shower already,” You say, hiding yourself under the covers.

“I’ll go shower first then. Feel free to join me if you want,” he teases you before you can stop him.

“You wish!” You scream back, hearing him chuckle as he closes your door.

You hear his laughter fading away as he goes back to his room.

You’ve been on so many dates with so many guys, and none of them made you feel the way you're feeling right now. You already knew you were going to have the time of your life, even before the date even started. You've never felt so happy, excited, and nervous all at once before.

And then you realized, everything suddenly becoming clear to you.

You already knew what your answer to Beomgyu is going to be.

-------------------

a/n: hey oomfs i'm back!! i missed everyone here so much 😩 just dropped a new Beomgyu fic that I wasn't expecting to get so much attention in just a few days, y'all are the best!! i also didn't want to end the fic there so here's part two!! i hope y'all enjoyed reading this and I'll be back with more(currently working on a draft for Kai..) so stay tuned!! also special thanks to my beloved estelle for the pretty header <33333

taglist: @tyunzznluvr @interestellear @hyunelixbun @dawngyu @tubasmiracle @no1likemybbgcharlie @lovesickchoi-reads @xylatox @delugyu part 2 is finally out!! I hope y'all enjoy this one too!! 🙏

[ficscollection]

Addicted To You

♡ continuation of Take It! but can be read as a stand-alone.

“It’s been three weeks since you’ve seen either Beomgyu or Taehyun, away for a business trip like always— after three weeks without seeing them, they’re eager to show you how much they missed you.”

beomgyu x fem!reader x taehyun

Genre: fluff, smut, porn with no plot. at all. 

Word count 4.7K

warnings: barely edited, poly relationship but no mxm…they’re chaebols for those who don’t know, gyu is kinda bratty, it’s literally just smut

smut warnings: dom!tae, dom!beomgyu, sub!mc, threesome, double vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, pet names, (baby, pretty, sweetheart, etc.) dry humping, marking, praise, degrading, manhandling, breast play, mocking, exhibitionism, oral (f & m rec.) slight masturbation, handjob, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, (m. rec) slight dumbification, mentions of safe word, dacryphilia, creampies, aftercare (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: didn’t rlly think i’d commit to this, but take it holds a silly little place in my heart bc it was the first fic to help me gain traction on my dying blog 😭 (no, there were no other reasons as to why i wrote this tf) 

Study sessions with Taehyun usually go well— he’s a great teacher, and is able to guide you through even the hardest concepts with ease; usually, you end study sessions with no energy at all, more than ready to sink into your bed with your arms wrapped tightly around him. 

Usually, you don’t find yourself where you are now— on top of him, your fingers threaded into his hair as you tug him closer to you. 

“Thought you were tired?” He teases, fully enjoying the way you grind against him, needy and reckless as you simply whine at his comment, “What happened to just cuddling, sweetheart?”

“Does it look like I’m in the mood to just cuddle?” you mock, pulling away from his addicting lips with a frown— he simply laughs, playing along as he sends you an innocent look— though there’s nothing innocent about the way his hands are splayed across the small of your back, encouraging the soft rock of your hips by keeping you pressed firmly onto him, “I haven’t seen you in weeks, missed you so much.”

Taehyun’s smile grows wicked; there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leans forward to place sultry kisses on your neck, plump lips sucking and biting teasingly as he litters marks on any skin that’s left accessible to him. 

“You missed me, pretty? How much?” he teases, mumbling the words against your neck as his hands slip under your shirt, fingers wandering as he feels the way you practically melt at his touch. The small whimper you let out isn’t lost on him as he bucks his hips up into you, prompting you to answer him with a soft bite to the sensitive spot on your neck. 

“So much. So so much,” you ramble, unable to stop your desperate movements as you grind into him, able to feel the way his cock is already hard and pressed perfectly against you, biting your lip in a pathetic attempt to suppress your sounds, “Couldn’t even call you while you away, you were so busy.”

“Wow, I can’t believe this,” you immediately freeze at the sound of the voice— your eyes are wide open as you turn around in Taehyun’s grasp, mouth agape as you realize that you didn’t even notice the bedroom door opening, much less hear Beomgyu come in as he sits comfortably on the chair in the corner, arms crossed and expression unamused as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“Is he the only one to get a warm welcome?” he pouts, shining eyes almost fooling you into thinking he’s seconds away from tearing up, “You didn’t miss me?”

“Gyu,” you gape, untangling yourself from Taehyun as you attempt to go to him immediately— only to be pulled back by Taehyun, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as he presses you flush against him, chin slotting itself on your shoulder as he laughs at the whine you let out, “I thought you weren’t supposed to be here until next week.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he admits, leaning back in the chair as he lets out a soft tsk, taking in the way Taehyun continues his assault on your neck— you’re weak to his touches as you let out soft gasps, squirming in his grip and inevitably grinding harder against him as a result, “Though it seems you’re busy— I’ll get going then.”

“Beomgyu, ah, wait,” your voice is whiny and pathetic as you call out to him, stopping him in his tracks as he glances back at you— he takes in the way you reach out toward him helplessly, eyes darkening at the way Taehyun continues to hold you close, not planning to let you go soon as his eyes flicker up; they meet Beomgyu’s, and he’s unable to hold back his sly smile as his hands wander under your shirt, pushing it up and exposing your chest before he’s expertly playing with your breasts— the way you cry out from his touches and place your hands on his forearms is amusing, and Beomgyu is quick to catch onto Taehyun’s intentions as he simply huffs out a soft laugh. 

“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, tilting his head as he goes to stand before you— just out of reach, your attempts to grab onto him and tug him closer futile as you simply look up at him with teary eyes, whimpering softly at the way Taehyun begins to rut up into you, “Isn’t Tyunnie enough for you?” 

The nickname has Taehyun rolling his eyes— Beomgyu’s wicked smile of amusement only makes Taehyun more irritated, even more so when you begin protesting that you want him, too.

“It’s not that,” you say, struggling to utter a coherent sentence from the way Taehyun continues to stimulate you, your brain turned to mush from his touch alone, “Just missed you… want you, missed both of you s’much…”

Both men are laughing at your state— your fucked out expression and bruised lips from Taehyun’s harsh bites is enough to have them hooked, and Beomgyu has to take a deep breath in order to keep his hands off you. 

“Our sweet girl,” Taehyun hums, kissing your cheek fondly, a stark contrast to the way he continues to stimulate you, expert fingers tweaking at your nipples while he continues to roll his hips up into you; you don’t seem to notice the moment one of his hands begins to slide down coyly, slipping under your shorts and rubbing your clit teasingly over your panties— you both hiss at the feeling, and Taehyun bites his lips at the feeling of you completely soaking your underwear, “Why don’t you show Gyu how much you missed us, hmm?”

You’re nodding immediately; your hips are canting at his touch, and you can’t seem to get your eyes off Beomgyu, who simply takes you in with hungry eyes, stepping closer in order to cup your cheek, leaning down until his hips are hovering over yours.

“Still such a greedy thing, aren’t you?” he asks softly, his voice barely above a whisper as you simply cry at his words. It’s all too much for you— Taehyun’s body against yours, his soft huffs against your skin, his wandering lips and hands that don’t detach themselves from your body for even a moment— and Beomgyu’s soft hand that caresses your face fondly, staring at you with such pity in his eyes you can’t help but feel small under his gaze, “Can’t even help yourself from touching us the moment we come back to you.”

You don’t bother to refute his claims— because it’s all true, and you don’t bother to feel an ounce of shame from it, not when the two men before you can’t seem to get away from you for a second, either. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Beomgyu asks, taking in the way your movements grow frantic, your mouth slightly agape and letting out streams of moans that only worsen from his question, “So close already? Come on baby, show me how much you missed us.”

Beomgyu’s lips are soft and hungry the moment they crash against yours— he’s held back long enough, unable to control his need to feel you panting and moaning against his lips the second you crash down from your high— your frantic hands grip Beomgyu’s perfectly pressed dress shirt tightly, though he couldn’t care less about it, not when you’re pulling him toward you desperately and kissing him as though you haven’t seen him in years. 

“Shit…” Taehyun groans, fingers drifting down to your clothed slit, face buried into your neck as he laughs breathily— you jolt against him as you feel his middle and ring finger run along your cunt teasingly, feeling your panties stick to you and pressing against your entrance to feel how wet you are— you’re whining softly in embarrassment, though you can’t control the shocks of pleasure that still jolt through you, pulling away from Beomgyu’s lips to burrow into his chest from the sensitivity. 

“She’s so wet,” Taehyun smiles, raising his head to meet Beomgyu’s— the two men feel weak to the way you grow flustered at their words, still shy as ever as you mumble incoherently into Beomgyu’s chest— Taehyun’s hold on you grows slack, but you don’t bother to stand up, still able to feel the way his hard cock throbs against you, weak to the feeling of him under you. 

“Poor thing,” Beomgyu coos, rubbing your back in a way that’s more patronizing than soothing, “Guess we left you alone for too long, hmm? Can’t last this long without us, is that it?” 

Your desperation is endearing to Beomgyu— though it’s something he’ll never say out loud, choosing instead to tease and poke fun at you as he takes in your weak protests and flustered reactions with a deep satisfaction. 

With the two here, you don’t need to move a muscle— not when they can do it for you, allowing them to put you in any position they want as you find yourself laying on the bed, thighs rubbing impatiently as you watch them with wide expectant eyes, waiting for their next move as they hover over you. 

“Won’t you ask how our trip was?” Beomgyu asks, his sweet smile doing nothing to deter your mind from the fact that Taehyun is sinking to his stomach, situating himself comfortably between your legs as he begins to pry your bottoms off— his eyes flicker down to your line of sight, and he’s able to catch the way your panties are soaked through with your arousal, your pretty cunt still glistening from your last orgasm.

“Baby?” He asks again, taking a hold of your chin and forcing you to look back up at him. He’s pouting, petulant as always when he realizes your attention isn’t solely on him, “Eyes on me, baby. Answer my question, won’t you?”

“H…How was your trip…?” you’re trailing off indignantly the moment you feel Taehyun’s mouth on you; it’s warm and messy as his tongue is instantly licking up the remnants of your arousal, your legs twitching at the feeling before he’s throwing them over his shoulders— his grip is bruising on your thighs as he keeps you in place, sucking and licking and moaning against your cunt like a crazed man.

“It was so boring,” Beomgyu says, seemingly unfazed by the way Taehyun is pressed against your cunt, the intensity of it all making your brows furrow and your eyes glaze with pleasure; you’re gripping at the sheets as your mouth falls open, able to feel the way his nose presses against your clit as his tongue enters you smoothly, humming out in satisfaction as the vibrations only make you yelp with pleasure— though, after a moment, you’re able to take notice of the way Beomgyu’s hand has begun to palm at his cock, eyes drinking in even your most miniscule changes of expression as he smiles. 

“Couldn’t stand being away from you for so long,” he continues, glancing back to where Taehyun hums in agreement; he’s raising his head from where it’s buried between your legs for a second, his face shining with your arousal as he sends you a charming smile— you simply whine at the way you feel his fingers teasing your entrance, circling and prodding at it before they’re sinking into you; he’s curling and pumping them immediately, eager to pull out any reactions from you as he aims for all your sensitive spots with ease. 

“Both of us,” Beomgyu adds, watching as Taehyun sends you one last coy look before his eyes fall back on your pussy— your face feels hot as you watch his lips attach themselves to your clit, looking back up at you with innocent eyes as he continues to fuck with you with his fingers, adding a third before you can even process it. 

Beomgyu is as needy as ever as he scolds you to look back up at him— your eyes widen slightly as you take in the way he’s taken his cock out, stroking it slowly and furrowing his brows the moment you begin watching him; you’re reaching up to wrap a hand around him without a second thought, and he’s cursing lowly under his breath at the feeling of your warm hand, pumping him slowly and taking in the way his tip leaks profusely. 

“Thought of you the whole time…” he mumbles, wincing slightly at the way you shift toward him in order to wrap your mouth around him; your tongue darts out to lick at his tip teasingly, doe eyes only enticing him further as he cups your face with a fond look, “I thought of calling you— I had so many nights where I couldn’t sleep, just thought of you…”

Beomgyu can’t begin to count how many times he laid on the bed of his hotel room, eyes screwed shut as he fucked himself to the memory of you— more often than not, he thought of calling your during those times— he thought of sending you a video, a picture, anything that could show you just how much he needed you; instead, he decided to remain patient, to let his energy pent up until he finally saw you again. 

Now that you lay before him, your movements on his cock faltering from the feeling of Taehyun’s tongue against your pussy, fingers hitting all the spots that make your stomach twist up in knots, he’s not sure how he’ll contain himself— three weeks without you was simply a death sentence to him. 

“You should’ve called,” you whine out, your voice weak and shaky as your thighs tighten around Taehyun’s head; he remains unfazed by the action, his soft hair ticklish against your skin as he merely presses himself against you more— the bed begins to rock from how much you squirm from his ministrations, though the way he’s begun to rut into the mattress is also to blame.

“I would’ve helped you, I… ah…!” you’re unable to finish your sentence. Beomgyu’s hand has begun to guide your own on his cock, though you don’t seem to realize it from the way your eyes are screwed shut, your helpless noises growing louder and spurring Taehyun to pleasure you more— you can already begin to imagine the marks his fingers will leave on your thighs from how hard he’s got you, keeping you firmly against him and preventing you from escaping as he leads you to your second orgasm of the night— one of many you can tell, at least from the way the two watch you with dark, hungry eyes. 

You’re a whimpering and weak mess as Taehyun lets you ride out your orgasm; he’s licking up your cum eagerly, enjoying the way you twitch and cry from the overstimulation of it all, your voice already slightly hoarse as you meekly plead Taehyun to stop, please please please, too much…

He only stops when he feels a sharp tug at his hair— though, unlike you, who tries to tug at his roots in a controlled manner to not hurt him, this action is clearly meant to hurt, and he’s already sending Beomgyu a lethal glare as the said man simply smiles back, keeping him away from you as Taehyun winces at the feeling. 

You’re unaware of it all— you’re still catching your breath, your shirt hiked up and exposing your chest, taking deep breaths as your eyes remain shut— you’re especially unaware of the way they seem to be communicating silently, Beomgyu’s grip loosening from Taehyun’s hair as he simply sends him a look, mouthing words that have Taehyun letting out a soft oh. Before you can question it, you’re being moved again. 

“Baby, do you remember why we went on this trip?” Beomgyu asks you, moving you back until you’re almost against the headboard; you’re sitting up, and Beomgyu is right beside you as he smiles, your brain fuzzy as he waits for your answer with bright eyes— his smile widens slightly the moment you begin to mumble incoherently about renewing a partnership with a company— laughing softly, he kisses you, short and sweet as he nods.

“And it went well,” he says, his heart swelling as he takes in the way you slur out a soft congratulations, “So I— Tyunnie and I… were thinking we should celebrate.” 

“Celebrate?” you ask, peering up at him through dazed eyes; his hands have begun to wander, relishing in being able to feel your skin again as he nods.

“Do you trust us, baby?” Taehyun has appeared at your other side; they cage you in, though it doesn’t feel pressuring or dangerous as they wait for your answer with loving eyes. 

“Yes.”

Your answer is immediate— and you mean it, taking in the way the two only give you mischievous smiles in return; before you can process what’s going on, they’re asking you to change positions— Beomgyu currently lays back against the headboard as you hover over him, his clothes discarded as his fingers play with the hem of your tee— rather, their tee, unsure of who’s it might be, but knowing that it’s not your own simply from the way it looks on your figure.

“Safe word?” Beomgyu asks softly, beginning to tug your shirt up before you’re obeying and taking it off; tossing it to the side, you mumble the safe word you all agreed upon, and he’s sending you an endearing smile before he’s tugging your hips down; he hisses softly at the feeling of your warm cunt fluttering around his tip, already able to feel your seeping arousal before you finally sink onto him.

“Fuck, oh shit,” he sighs, feeling the way you stretch around him, much tighter than he remembers as you simply whine at the feeling, “God, did you really miss us this much, pretty girl?”

The way you nod without hesitation has Beomgyu laughing softly; he’s reaching to take your hands, tugging at you until you’re hovering over him, your hands on either side of his head as he pouts softly at you.

“Who’d you miss more,” he begins, his antics nothing new to you as you fight the urge to roll your eyes, “Me or Tyunnie?”

There’s a right answer here, he mutters, groaning softly as he finally bottoms out inside you, feeling your hips flush against his as he bucks his hips up— whether he’s trying to get you to moan out his name or he simply can’t control himself like he tells you, you’re unsure. 

“Missed both of you,” you whine, and you fall onto him pathetically the moment he bucks his hips up into you roughly, your body jolting up from the motion.

“Really?” he asks, patting your head softly as you nod against him, “Then, do you want Tyunnie to fuck you too?” 

Mindlessly, you nod— then you freeze, feeling as though there’s more to what Beomgyu is asking as you sit back up, sending him a confused look that only makes him smile with endearment. 

“What?” he says, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you come in contact with Taehyun’s bare chest, twisting your head to look back at him— but you’re unable to, only being able to feel his firm chest press against your back, warm hands rubbing up and down your thighs soothingly as he places feathery kisses along your shoulder, “Since you can never pick between us, why not have both?”

His comment is both condescending and lighthearted— he doesn’t mind sharing, but he knows that mentioning it is always enough to fluster you— and, like clockwork, you tense up, unsure of what to say as Taehyun begins to leave open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, going up, up up until he’s finally reached you ear, placing a kiss behind it before he’s whispering a soft don’t you wanna feel good, pretty? the words barely whispered as you make eye contact with Beomgyu, who was already unable to keep his eyes off you. 

The moment you catch on, Beomgyu lets out a soft moan— he can feel you clench around him, your warm walls fluttering around him and causing him to throw his head back, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure as you simply whine at the sight, feeling the way his cock ruts into you from response. 

“What do you say then, pretty?” Taehyun asks, his scent overtaking your senses from how close he is to you, something you didn’t think you missed as much as you did as you find yourself leaning back against him, your head tilting back to rest against his shoulder as you bite your lip, taking a moment to respond as Taehyun begins littering kisses along your jaw. 

“Yes, please, I want you— want you both, need you both to fuck me,” your words practically have the two malfunctioning— You can feel Taehyun smile against your jaw as Beomgyu’s hips jump up once more, and you allow Taehyun to place one last chaste kiss on your lips before he’s guiding you to lean back down.

You’ve never done this before— you’ve never thought of doing this, but as Beomgyu begins to fuck into you slowly, allowing you to loosen up around him for Taehyun, you realize that this business trip must’ve affected them much more than they let on. 

You tense slightly the moment you feel Taehyun’s tip prod at your full entrance; Beomgyu catches onto it instantly, muttering a soft still okay? against the crown of your head, only giving Taehyun a nod of confirmation the moment you tell him yes. 

“Relax for us, okay?” Taehyun coos, rubbing your skin soothingly and only continuing once he sees the tension leave your body— carefully, he begins to enter you. 

You already felt full enough with either of them inside you— but now, as you felt Taehyun finally slip inside, the three of you letting out pleasured sounds from it, you feel absolutely stuffed. 

“ffffu…. god… why didn’t we try this sooner,” you hear Beomgyu groan, jaw clenched as he focuses on not coming inside you then and there— the way you whine and whimper into his ear is enough to have him shutting his eyes, letting out another groan as he feels Taehyun bottom out, the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other filthy and new, your fingers gripping onto Beomgyu’s shoulder desperately as you will yourself to hover over him. 

Beomgyu looks entirely fucked out; his expression probably mirrors yours, his face flushed and his eyes blown out with lust as he sends you a coy smile; behind you, you can feel Taehyun lean down to press against you, a hand securing itself on your waist while the other supports his weight— his head is buried in the crook of your neck, trying to hide the weak whines he lets out once he finally begins to pull out. 

The moment he thrusts back in, you can already feel tears prick at your eyes— you’re loud and unabashed in your sounds as they finally begin to fuck you, experimenting a bit before they finally find a good rhythm. 

When Beomgyu pulls out, Taehyun thrusts back in— it’s a cycle that leaves you constantly full and weak, and if it weren’t for Taehyun’s arm wrapped around your waist, you’re sure you would’ve fallen against Beomgyu already— though moments after, when Taehyun chooses to grab a hold of your hips in order to guide you onto them, you’re doing exactly that. 

“Feels good?” Beomgyu asks, taking your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, laughing cruelly at the drooly and fucked out mess you’ve turned into, barely able to mutter out a response from how good they’re fucking you, “Such a good girl— shit, ugh— always wanting to make us feel good, taking whatever we give her.”

“You have no idea how much we missed you,” Taehyun mutters against your skin, barely able to continue his sentence from the way you clench around them, your mixed arousals and the sound of skin slapping against skin almost drowning out your sounds, “Had us— ah… fucking bonding from how— ngh, how bad it was.”

The thought is enough to make you laugh— though you aren’t able to, not with the way they continue to fuck you roughly, your back arching from the way Taehyun’s clever hand begins to rub at your clit— you can only whine softly at the feeling, allowing them to toy with you however they’d like as Beomgyu sneaks a hand to play with your breasts. 

“Missed you— missed this,” Beomgyu rambles to himself, and you can feel the way his hips begin to stutter, losing their rhythm and affecting Taehyun in the process, “Just wanted to hear you cute little sounds again, my pretty girl.”

“Our pretty girl…” Taehyun corrects, though it’s only to tease as he feels you tighten around him— you’re close, he can tell, and it only fuels the two men to continue fucking you recklessly, “Can you cum for us, pretty? Wanna feel it, missed seeing you come on my cock, just give us one more, sweet thing—“

His words become foggy to your mind after that, but you can hear him guiding you the whole time you crash down, letting out a loud cry before Beomgyu’s cupping your face and guiding you to his lips, kissing you slowly and taking in your sounds as you practically drool against him— the kiss is messy and you’re barely able to process anything, feeling him bite your lips and run his tongue along your mouth teasingly before he laughs, pulling away to give you one last sweet kiss. 

“Want us to fill you up?” Beomgyu asks, his voice slightly tense as he continues to concentrate on not falling apart then and there; even through your foggy mind, you’re nodding eagerly, teary eyes affecting Beomgyu much more than he’d like to admit as he finally allows himself to cum inside you—you can hear Taehyun hiss softly at the feeling, triggering his own orgasm as the two men whimper at the feeling, unable to stop their cocks from rutting into you, sensitive from the way they continue to rub against each other inside.

You’re warm and filled to the point that it’s already begun to leak out— Taehyun swears that he’s never seen a better sight, and you’re burying your head into the crook of Beomgyu’s neck, mentally rolling your eyes at the way he pouts a soft no fair, I can’t see.

You don’t think you can bring yourself to move after that— lucky for you, you have two strong men to do your bidding— which is exactly why you’re able to find yourself in a warm bubble bath after a few minutes of rest, unable to stop yourself from marveling at the luxury of it all despite being with the two for— well, a year.

“I’m so happy to be back, seriously,” Beomgyu mutters, his head laying on your chest as you simply laugh, running your fingers through his hair fondly, “I don’t think I can be away from you for that long again.”

“Was it really that bad?” you ask softly, slightly embarrassed at how hoarse your voice is; they merely laugh fondly at you, and Taehyun’s arms circle around your waist before he’s pressing himself closer to you— you can feel him nod despite his forehead resting against your shoulder, and you merely roll your eyes at their theatrics, tilting your head back and resting your head against Taehyun’s shoulder, allowing him to slot his chin on your own, “Why don’t you just take me with you next time, hmm?”

“You’d like that?” Beomgyu immediately asks, titling his head back and looking at you with wide, sparkling eyes— you laugh, nodding softly as you watch him smile cutely in return, “You better not change your mind.”

“I won’t,” you muse, smiling at the way Taehyun places a soft kiss on your cheek, “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Because despite your doubts, they’ve really proven just how much you mean to them— and as you feel them cuddle closer to you, allowing yourself to sink into the warm water that soothes your sore body, you can’t control the way your heart flutters from the mere way they hold you.

God, you’re down bad.

[ficscollection]

pairing: beomgyu x fem!reader warnings: oral (m.rec) wc: 1k note: wrote this in a lustful haze after those photos dropped but never posted it. that love language behind video was the tipping point cause wtf why does he think that's okay?? this is self-indulgent cause i wrote this specifically for me (can you tell how unhinged i am) but i hope you enjoy it too! <3 mdni!!

Opening Instagram in your hotel room while Beomgyu's away preparing for the concert after getting a notification that the group’s official page posted, almost dropping your phone as the first photo pops up on your feed. You’ve seen him shirtless multiple times since he started working out seriously, but this? 

Beomgyu, in that tight black tank top that fits him so well, his broad shoulders and the muscle definition in his arms catching the light so perfectly, making your head spin and your mouth water already. He looks huge all of a sudden. You swipe through the photos, unexpectedly breathless, needing to sit down for the last few. 

Impatiently waiting for him to come back to the hotel after the concert, and to your luck he’s changed back into the soundcheck outfit, that damned tank top highlighting the muscles he's worked hard to build. It stretches so perfectly across his toned body, and those black sweatpants aren't making it easier. But now, he looks even hotter, the post-concert rush leaving him glowing. He lights up when he spots you, coming up to kiss you hello, and you immediately push him down to sit on the bed and climb onto his lap. 

“What—” he starts before he’s cut off by your lips on his, more insistent this time. His hands come to rest at your waist as he leans into it, and one of your hands sneaks down between you to palm him over his pants. He groans into your mouth, not expecting it as you slowly rub over his clothed cock.

“What’s gotten into you today?” he asks, hips instinctively jerking into your hand.

“You were so hot today,” your murmur, hand now slipping under his waistband to wrap around his bare cock, hot against your palm, already leaking precum as you thumb at his slit. “Want to suck you off so bad, been waiting all day for this.”

His hiss cuts off into a moan, eyes closing as your hand twists around his dick, bringing him to full hardness. You watch the pleasure contort his face as you jerk him off in his pants as much as the space allows, spreading his precum around his length to lubricate it.

“Please,” his eyes open, looking up at you with dilated pupils, gaze hazy with need. “Do it. Need your mouth.”

He looks so good and his cock feels so heavy and thick in your hand, and you're already riled up from waiting so long that you just want to take it back and ask him to fuck you instead, but you pull your hand out from his pants anyways, getting to your knees between his spread legs, pulling his pants and underwear down before wrapping your palm around him again, his hands finding their way into your hair. 

The familiar taste of him coats your tongue as you lap at his tip, causing him to tighten his grip on your hair with a hiss. You keep eye contact with him as you lave your tongue over his shaft, running up his veins and around the head, before taking him as deep as you can at once without warning, causing him to let out a startled moan, hips stuttering from the effort of holding himself back from thrusting into your mouth.

"Fuck," he curses.

You pop off his dick, returning back to jerking him off. “Use me,” you say.

He looks down at you in surprise, managing to get out an “Are you sure?” as you nod and take him back into your mouth again, his cock hard and heavy against your tongue as his hands weave themselves back into your hair for leverage, holding you still. He hesitates but you look up at him imploringly, and he can't resist the sight of you, all pretty on your knees for him asking to be used. He tightens his grip on your hair and starts slow, rocking his hips, but it’s still enough to bring tears to your eyes, drool collecting at the side of your lips.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so hot. Gonna fuck you good after this,” he promises, increasing the force of his thrusts, tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. "And you'll let me, won't you?" You can't even imagine saying no, so wet already, you can feel that you’ve soaked through your underwear. He can slide in easily without any prep, and that thought has your hand slipping into your own pants for some relief, the other resting on his thigh for some stability. His eyes catch onto the movement, and he swears again. "Fuck, yes, touch yourself for me. Make yourself cum."

And you can only watch, vision blurred through teary eyes as his head drops back, filth pouring from his lips as he uses your mouth to get off, thrusts increasing in intensity as your own fingers bring you to your climax. “Gonna let me use you, baby? This hot and wet mouth just for me? You feel so good, ahh—shit, I’m so close.” He always slips into his Daegu accent when he’s getting close, and his now even deeper voice just makes your blood rush faster, leaving you lightheaded. 

You vaguely register that your knees are starting to hurt sitting on the hard floor, but you can barely feel it, too focused on the way he slides in and out of your mouth, practically fucking your face, your jaw aching but the noises he's making too good to make you want to stop. You can tell he's close when his thighs tense, hips jerking erratically and losing rhythm.

“Ah, ah, I’m gonna cum—” he tries to pull you off his dick, but you tighten your grip on his thighs instead, feeling the hard muscle flex under your palms as you refuse to move. “Oh, fuck.” His eyes roll back as with one final thrust he stills, releasing down your throat. He always looks so pretty when he cums, but now he just looks hot, unreal, sweat beading on his skin, prominent Adam's apple bobbing, mouth open as he lets out a stream of curses and praise.

It takes him a minute to catch his breath, as you pull off him, before he’s pulling you to up to kiss him. “That was so hot,” he murmurs. "But you didn't get to cum, did you?" At the shake of your head, he slides onto his back and urges you up his body with a push to the back of your thighs, “Then let me return the favour.” 

[ficscollection]

📁 FILE 01: CHOI SOOBIN

⋆·˚ ༘ * After a missed anniversary and weeks spent out of sync, Soobin just wants to be close to you again—really close. No rush, no performance. Just you, him, and the quiet reminder that you still belong to each other.

✦ Love Language: Quality Time

pairing: soobin x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 3.8k

warnings: smut, f!reader, no protection, soft dom!soobin, sub!reader, cock warming, slight oral f!rec, praise, romance, no protection, finishing inside

🗂️ click to access all txt member’s files

˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist

The apartment is quiet when you finally come home.

Way too quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You didn't have to wait."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re tired.”

You blink at him. “I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

"Binnie..." Your voice trails off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You give it with ease.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Soobin—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

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

He still doesn’t pull out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

feedback/comments/likes are always appreciated <3

[ficscollection]

assigned to you

summary: in a dystopian future where the government enforces arranged marriages to combat plummeting birth rates, you’re assigned a husband—choi yeonjun, a stranger you’ve never met.

pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader

genre: dystopia, slow burn, romance, angst, smut, fluff.

warnings: explicit sexual content, soft breeding kink, language, forced marriage system, emotional vulnerability, pregnancy, domestic intimacy, power imbalance due to forced pairing, first time sex, creampie, dirty talk, oral sex,

wc: 19,1k

notes: hi everyone! ✨ so recently this idea popped into my head—i’ve been wanting to write something with an arranged marriage trope but the whole cold ceo x neglected wife thing was starting to feel a bit repetitive, especially since i’ve already written something in that genre (which i still LOVE btw, but i just wanted to try something new) 🥲 then i remembered this anime called koi to uso — it’s about this dystopian world where the government assigns you a partner and yeah… i never finished it because it turned super harem-y and that’s not really my vibe AJSJHSKJJH but the concept really caught my attention, so i thought hmm maybe i should give it a try 🫣

hope you guys enjoy it!! 🫶

everything begins the day you turn twenty.

you wake up to the faint noise of birds outside your window, sunlight filtering through the pale curtains, painting quiet shadows across your bedroom floor. your mother is already in the kitchen, humming lowly, but there’s something off in her tone. a tremble, maybe. or maybe it’s just you. maybe you’re imagining it because today’s the day you have to register.

the day you officially surrender your right to choose who you’ll love.

in this country, love is not a decision. it is a number, an equation, a state-mandated obligation for survival. for years now, the country’s birth rate has been plummeting. desperate to avoid demographic collapse, the government instituted the pairing system: when you turn twenty, your data—genetic markers, temperament, emotional intelligence, compatibility rates—is run through the database. the algorithm does the rest. your match is chosen, your future locked in, and within the year, you are expected to marry and attend compulsory family planning. you have one job: produce offspring.

love is banned unless sanctioned by the state.

you walk into the government building with your hands shaking, your mother squeezing your fingers too tightly, her eyes red-rimmed but dry. she’s been crying in secret, you know. she didn’t want this for you. no one does.

and yet—there is no other choice.

the registration is swift. a photo, a signature, your blood drawn for one final compatibility cross-check. they tell you the letter will arrive in three to five business days. the envelope will be yellow. unmistakable.

“please return home and prepare for assignment.”

you try to keep your days normal after that. university lectures. cafeteria lunches. walking home with your head down, ignoring the couples holding hands across campus, each one with an official barcode tattooed on their ring fingers—a symbol of government approval. your own hand feels heavy just looking at them. branded love. manufactured desire. they never really chose each other.

sometimes you wonder if any of them are happy.

three days later, the yellow envelope is in your mailbox.

you freeze when you see it. fingers trembling, breath caught, skin going cold. the paper almost burns in your hands. you don’t open it right away. you walk straight to your room, lock the door, sit on your bed with your heart racing so violently you think you might throw up. and then, slowly, carefully, you tear the seal.

your eyes skim the top. the official logo of the bureau of demographic affairs. your name, your assigned number. and then:

assigned partner: choi yeonjun. age: 20.

a small, passport-sized photo is attached to the right side of the letter.

you stare.

he’s... beautiful.

cat-like eyes, tilted just enough to make him look a little wild. dark lashes, long and thick. a soft, upturned nose with a gentle slope that suits the elegant structure of his face. lips—full, plush, the kind that look perpetually kiss-bruised even in monochrome. his jaw is sharp but not too much, softened by a slight pout in his mouth. he’s unnervingly symmetrical. there’s a balance to his features, a harmony, like he was designed—crafted—to be attractive.

your throat feels dry.

beneath the photo, there’s a line of text confirming the date of your preliminary meeting—next friday at 2 p.m., government center, family conference room 2B. both sets of parents are expected to attend. your wedding will be planned based on that meeting’s outcome.

you lie back on the bed, letter pressed to your chest, and stare at the ceiling.

it feels... wrong to think this—but he’s attractive. unfairly so. and that terrifies you even more. because you were always taught not to feel. not to dream of fairytales or meet-cutes or falling for someone in the rain. love at first sight is a myth now. it's forbidden. it would disrupt the system. too much emotion, too much unpredictability. and yet—

yet here you are, cheeks warm, heart skipping, staring at the grayscale face of a boy you’re about to marry.

a boy you’ve never met.

friday. 2:00 p.m.government center, family conference room 2B.

you’re early.

your dress is navy, modest, but it hugs your figure in a way you wish it wouldn’t. you didn’t pick it to be pretty—you picked it because it was formal, appropriate. your mother insisted on curling your hair, and your father didn’t speak the entire ride over. only your little brother tried to smile at you, but even his usual mischief was subdued. he kept playing with the sleeves of his hoodie in the backseat, pretending not to be upset.

the building is tall and silent, cold in a way that doesn't come from the air conditioning. it's the sterility of a place that sees life as a series of documents and laws. a place that doesn’t care about dreams.

you sit on one side of the long glass table, your family beside you. your mother keeps wringing a tissue in her lap. your father’s jaw is clenched, his hands crossed tightly. this is the last time they will sit with you like this—before you are someone else's.

and then the door opens.

you hear his voice before you see him. low, warm, laughing quietly at something one of his parents said. and when he walks in, it’s—

it’s hard to breathe.

he’s wearing a black suit that fits too well. slim, tailored, crisp like a page never touched. his hair is pushed back, soft and styled, a few strands falling delicately onto his forehead. and his face—his photo didn’t do him justice. his features move with his expressions, eyes gleaming like obsidian, mouth curved just slightly at the corners as if he’s always on the edge of a smile.

choi yeonjun.

his mother is elegant, her hair in a low twist, expression unreadable. his father looks composed, dignified, already halfway through a handshake with the government official present. this isn’t their first pairing. you remember reading his file—third son. they’ve done this before.

you feel like you’re being auctioned off.

“this is my assigned partner?” yeonjun asks, voice lilting, curious—not judgmental. he’s looking straight at you. and then he bows.

you stand and bow too, polite. your voice stays caught in your throat.

“you’re pretty,” he says softly, once he straightens. “i’m glad.”

it shouldn’t affect you. it shouldn’t. and yet your stomach flutters, just for a second, before you kill the feeling dead.

you don’t say anything. not because you’re rude—but because this isn’t real. this is a performance. this is a sentence.

the government mediator begins to speak, outlining the stages of the arrangement: the preliminary meeting. the planning process. the mandatory cohabitation. the one-year marriage trial before reproduction is expected.

you zone out after a while. your mother is crying again. your father’s voice is hoarse when he answers the legal questions. your little brother won’t look at you. and across from you, yeonjun looks like he’s done this in another life. calm. collected. but not cruel.

then, the mediator clears her throat.

“now, if the parents could please give the pair some time to speak privately. it is customary.”

your mother hesitates. she squeezes your hand until her knuckles turn white. she whispers something—"don’t let them take your heart too, okay?"—and then lets go.

and just like that, you are alone with him.

just the two of you, in a silent room that smells like paper and polished wood.

yeonjun exhales once your families are gone. his shoulders relax a little.

“wow,” he says. “that was intense.”

you nod. your hands are in your lap, clutching the fabric of your dress.

“you don’t talk much, huh?”

you glance up at him. he’s watching you with a soft kind of curiosity. not the kind that pries. more like he’s observing the weather—trying to guess if rain is coming.

“i do,” you say finally, voice quiet. “just... not today.”

he smiles. “that’s fair.”

a pause. he sits across from you again, legs crossed, posture easy, like he’s not under the weight of state surveillance. like this is his decision.

“i know this is strange,” he says. “i’m not gonna pretend it’s not. they pick someone for you, give you a name and a photo, and you’re supposed to start building a future. it's... a lot.”

you say nothing. you’re watching the way his fingers tap on the edge of the table. rhythmical. patient.

“i’m not here to make this harder for you,” he says, gentler now. “i know some people get assigned to assholes. i promise i won’t be one.”

your brows knit together, surprised.

he leans forward, elbows on the table, chin resting in one palm.

“if we have to go through this, we might as well not suffer through it.”

and you look at him then, really look.

his gaze is steady. not forceful. not manipulative. he’s not trying to make you like him. he’s just... honest.

"you’re used to this,” you murmur.

his smile falters. “not really. i’ve just watched my brothers go through it. and i learned what not to do.”

there’s something about the way he says it. like he’s seen what happens when the system doesn’t pair people right. like he knows how love can die before it’s even born.

you swallow, throat tight.

“i didn’t want this,” you admit.

he nods. “me neither.”

silence settles between you again. it’s not awkward. just full. like both of you are trying to breathe in a place with no air.

“but...” he says softly, after a while. “i think you’re interesting. and you’re easy to talk to. even if you don’t say much.”

your cheeks flush, and you hate that you can feel it. he notices, of course. but he doesn’t tease you. he just smiles to himself, quiet and pleased.

“so,” he says, tilting his head. “can i know something real about you? not government data. just... you.”

you blink.

he waits.

slow burn. that’s what this is. he’s not rushing. he’s not playing pretend. he’s offering you a chance to make something human out of something cold.

and even though everything in you is screaming don’t trust it— you speak.

you tell him a little. not much. just enough.

and he listens. attentively. sincerely.

maybe that’s how it starts. not with a kiss. not with a confession. but with someone sitting across from you, asking who you are when no one’s watching.

two weeks later.

the wedding is on a thursday.

you don’t get a white dress. there’s no music, no flowers. no ceremony beyond a document and a pen and the sterile voices of government officials making sure everything is binding and accounted for.

you wear beige.

yeonjun wears black again. no tie this time. his hair is messier, like he didn’t bother too much. he looks good anyway, like he always does. like someone who never had to try.

the room is almost identical to the one where you met: glass, steel, a flag in the corner.

your mother sobs quietly during the signing. your father doesn’t let go of her hand. your brother tries not to look, but when you lean down to hug him goodbye, he hides his face in your shoulder and mutters a broken, “please don’t forget us.”

and that’s when you finally cry.

not loud. not messy. just silent tears running down your cheeks as you sign the paper that says you no longer belong to them. your name next to yeonjun’s. your status: married. active participant in national repopulation initiative.

they even stamp it. a red seal. final. absolute.

you don't remember the ride to your new shared apartment. only the sound of the car, the blur of the buildings, your hands gripping the hem of your coat in your lap like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

yeonjun doesn’t speak for a while. and when he does, it’s soft. careful.

“you don’t have to pretend around me,” he says, eyes on the road. “i know this hurts.”

you don’t answer.

he pulls into a residential complex. government-provided. modern, quiet. two bedrooms, a shared kitchen, everything fully equipped. it smells like fresh paint and new plastic. not like home.

your boxes are already inside. so are his.

the apartment is... neutral. beige walls. grey couch. chrome kitchen. there’s a small balcony, but it faces another building.

you walk into your assigned bedroom and close the door without saying a word.

and to his credit, he doesn’t follow you. not right away.

but now, days pass like fog.

there’s a schedule pinned to the fridge now. a printed routine from the bureau: acclimation period, cohabitation adjustment, health preparation. underlined: mandatory hospital check-up before family planning begins.

you go to the hospital together a week later.

the nurse greets you by your couple ID number.

yeonjun jokes to break the tension—something dumb about feeling like a robot in a factory—and you don’t laugh, but you glance at him sideways. just a little. he notices.

you both go through blood work, fertility testing, infectious disease screening. the nurse asks personal questions. too personal. about cycles and hormone levels and sexual history— you flinch.

yeonjun speaks for you when you freeze.

“she’s not comfortable,” he says simply. “ask me first.”

his voice is calm, but there's steel beneath it. the nurse adjusts her tone after that.

on the ride home, you stare out the window. he drives with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping his thigh, nervous energy he never shows in his posture. it’s the little things you’re starting to notice.

“you didn’t have to speak for me,” you say, finally.

“i know,” he answers. “but i wanted to.”

and again—there it is.

that kindness you didn’t ask for. that warmth he keeps offering, even though you haven’t given him much back.

nights are the hardest.

you pretend to sleep early, even when your eyes stay open in the dark for hours. the room feels too still, too foreign. the bed smells like the laundry detergent they gave you in the relocation kit. the ceiling fan turns slowly, quietly. your chest feels tight, like grief has found a home inside your ribs and refuses to move out.

sometimes, you press your ear against the bedroom wall. you can’t hear much. just the occasional soft shuffle, the hum of yeonjun’s voice when he speaks on the phone in hushed tones. he never speaks long. never laughs out loud. not anymore.

you miss your mother’s voice echoing from the kitchen, your brother’s heavy footsteps running down the hallway. the scent of warm rice and grilled mackerel. the sound of your father clearing his throat before calling everyone to eat.

now, there’s only silence.

until one night, a knock.

not loud. not urgent. just... present.

“hey,” comes his voice through the door. “you don’t have to open. i just wanted to say... i know this feels like the end of everything, but it isn’t.”

you sit up slowly. your hand hovers near the handle but doesn’t reach it.

“i know we didn’t choose each other,” he continues, voice low and careful, “but maybe that doesn’t mean we can’t choose to be good to each other.”

you swallow. your throat feels raw.

after a pause, your voice comes out in a whisper, hoarse but steady. “okay.”

you don’t open the door. but you walk to it, lean your back against the cool wood. and then—almost imperceptibly—you hear the sound of him lowering himself on the other side. sitting with you. just like that. no pressure. just presence.

you stay like that for a while. breathing the same air, separated by a few centimeters and a thin barrier. but somehow... it feels closer than anything else has in weeks.

you don’t talk more that night. but when you finally slide back into bed, you sleep without crying.

that’s a first.

the next morning, there’s tea waiting on the counter.

he doesn’t say it’s from him. but he’s the only other person here, so you thank him anyway.

a nod. a tiny smile. you sip it, and it’s sweet.

from that night on, something shifts. neither of you says it aloud, but the air is different now.

you start having breakfast together. simple stuff—toast, boiled eggs, fruit. you sit across from each other at the tiny kitchen table and talk about nothing. weather. uni schedules. news updates.

one afternoon, you both arrive home soaked from the sudden rain.

you were out grocery shopping. he met you on the walk back by chance. no umbrella. you ran together. you laughed—really laughed—for the first time since being assigned. your clothes clung to your skin, your breath short from the sprint.

in the elevator, he looks at you and says, a little breathless, “you’re kind of cute when you’re mad at the rain.”

you blink at him. cheeks warm. you don't know what to say.

that night, he passes you a hairdryer through your door.

“so you don’t catch a cold.”

you murmur thanks. he lingers in the hallway a moment, like he wants to say something else. but then he leaves.

the next few nights, he knocks more often. never asks to come in. just talks through the door. sometimes you join him on the floor again, your backs pressed to opposite sides of wood. you start to open up. a little at a time.

one night, just past midnight, you both end up in the kitchen again.

you couldn’t sleep. neither could he. you make tea, he brings a packet of cookies.

the city outside is asleep. your apartment is bathed in soft fridge light.

you find yourselves sitting on the floor, backs to the counter.

he asks, voice low, “did you ever fall in love before all this?”

the question feels heavy. you stare into your cup.

“no,” you answer honestly. “i didn’t let myself. what was the point, if it was forbidden? if we were all going to be assigned anyway?”

he nods slowly. you notice the way his eyes flick toward the window, as if remembering something far away.

“i did,” he says finally.

your heart stirs.

“in high school,” he goes on, “i fell for this girl in my class. she had this ridiculous laugh and used to bring snacks for everyone. i liked her for three years. never told her. i thought... i don’t know. part of me really believed she’d be assigned to me.”

you watch the way his lips twist into something halfway between a smile and a wince.

“i used to daydream about it,” he admits, almost embarrassed. “our names printed together on the envelope. hers next to mine. like it was meant to be.”

you don’t say anything. you let him speak.

“and then she got married last year. to someone else. she posted a photo with her husband and... i laughed. like, really laughed. because it was so stupid. how much hope i’d put into something that was never mine to decide.”

you imagine it. the version of him in a classroom, heart racing every time she turned around. young, hopeful. painfully innocent.

you don’t know her name. you’ll probably never meet her.

but you hate her a little.

you hate that she had his love, his dreams, his belief. something you were too scared to even touch.

and you hate that your chest aches when he says her name without saying it.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. “that it didn’t work out.”

he looks at you, and there’s something tender in the way his eyes soften. “i’m not,” he says after a beat. “i wouldn’t have met you if it had.”

the silence after that is heavy, electric.

you don’t answer.

but you stay there with him. knees almost touching. the scent of tea between you. eyes a little too full. hearts slightly ajar.

the email arrives quietly, with the mechanical ding of a notification breaking the silence of your morning. it’s nothing dramatic—just a government seal, a cold subject line: YOUTH EMPLOYMENT PROGRAM FOR NEWLYWEDS.

you’re still in your oversized sleep shirt, hair loosely tied up, your fingers wrapped around a warm mug of barley tea as you sit at the small kitchen table. the place smells like toasted bread and laundry detergent. yeonjun walks in a few minutes later, yawning, dressed in sweatpants and a faded university hoodie, a slice of toast clenched between his teeth. he glances over your shoulder to see what you're looking at.

you click the email open. it’s from the ministry of social and familial affairs—another mandatory policy. another thing the government arranges for you, like you’re pieces on a board.

“because both parties are currently enrolled in higher education,” you read aloud softly, “the government will provide access to part-time employment opportunities and offer a financial subsidy for essential living expenses during the first year of marriage.”

you don’t say anything for a long while after that. the words hover in the air, bureaucratic and impersonal. but somehow, they make this life feel more real. more permanent. like you’re not just living in a temporary dream—you’re expected to stay here. build something.

“well,” yeonjun finally says, mouth half-full, “that’s... something. we should check it out later.”

you nod, even though your stomach feels hollow.

you still think about that night. the night he told you about his first love. about how he spent three years loving her in silence, convinced she'd be the one fate would give him. the girl with snacks and a bright laugh. the one who got married last year. not to him.

and no matter how much you tell yourself it’s ridiculous, it still gnaws at you sometimes. there’s this faint, irrational heat in your chest whenever she crosses your mind. you don’t even know what she looks like. you don’t know her name. but something about the way he talked about her—with such tender resignation—makes something sour rise in your throat.

you hate that it lingers.

you hate that it hurts.

that night, the rain starts late.

it begins with a steady tapping against the glass, the kind that would normally soothe you—white noise for your thoughts. but then the wind picks up, howling through the narrow alley between your apartment and the building next door, and you know what’s coming.

the first clap of thunder makes you freeze.

your fingers curl around the blanket. your chest tightens. you try to breathe slowly, like your therapist taught you when you were younger. but then comes another one—louder, deeper. it shakes the walls. it shakes you.

you’ve always hated storms. they made you cry as a child, and when you were too old to crawl into your mother’s bed, you forced your little brother to sleep beside you just so you wouldn’t feel alone.

now you’re in a place that doesn’t smell like your mother’s laundry, that doesn’t hold your brother’s sleepy warmth.

you’re alone again. except you’re not. not really.

you don’t think. you just move.

barefoot, your steps light across the cold floor, you open your bedroom door and cross the hall. you knock on yeonjun’s door twice, already feeling embarrassed, but unable to stop.

he opens almost immediately, wearing a gray t-shirt and sleep-tousled hair. his eyes are soft when they meet yours.

“are you okay?” he asks gently, already understanding.

you hesitate. “can i… stay here tonight?”

there’s a beat of silence. he nods, stepping aside without a word, and gestures for you to come in.

his room is dim, smelling faintly of his cologne and clean linen. it’s warmer than yours. there’s a stack of books by his bed, an open laptop with half-written notes still on the screen, a navy blue hoodie slung over the chair.

he grabs an extra blanket and starts to lay it out on the floor, but you shake your head, already trembling from another rumble of thunder.

“i… don’t want to be alone,” you whisper.

yeonjun pauses. and then, slowly, he walks back toward the bed and lifts the corner of the blanket for you.

you crawl in on one side. he lies down on the other. space between you, but not coldness. not indifference.

“i’ve always been scared of storms,” you murmur into the dark. “when i was little, i’d run to my parents’ room. then i made my little brother stay with me. i thought that when i grew up, i wouldn’t be scared anymore. but i guess… i still am.”

you feel the bed shift as he turns onto his side, facing you. his voice is low, almost a hush.

“nothing’s going to break tonight.”

those five words feel like something heavier than comfort. they feel like a promise. and they make something fragile inside you twist.

you’re quiet for a long time after that. the silence is heavy but not uncomfortable. it’s the kind of silence that lets your heartbeat slow. the kind that feels full of something new—something you don’t have a name for yet.

you fall asleep to the sound of rain and his breathing, even and steady beside you.

and when you wake up in the early morning light, his hand is resting over yours.

you slept like a baby.

it's the first thought you have when you blink your eyes open, bathed in the pale light of morning seeping through the curtains. the room smells like faint detergent and something unmistakably yeonjun—warm cotton and the slightest trace of his cologne. the air is quiet now, no more thunder shaking the walls, no rain tapping restlessly against the windows. and your chest feels… calm.

it surprises you, how rested you feel. how deep your sleep was. how safe.

you remember all those nights with your younger brother, clinging to him as the storm rattled outside, whispering stories or counting sheep until your mind shut down from exhaustion. sleep was never easy back then. it was something you wrestled for, clawed your way toward, until it finally overtook you like mercy. but last night... last night, it came softly. it held you.

and now you realize why.

yeonjun’s arms are around you.

not tightly, not possessively—just gently draped, like he forgot to move in the night, like his body instinctively curved around yours in sleep. one of his hands rests over your wrist, the other loosely against your waist, warm even through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. and his face is so close, calm and boyish, lips slightly parted, his breath even and soft against your skin.

your heart pounds immediately, panic fluttering low in your stomach—not because you’re scared, but because this is unfamiliar. because you don’t know what to do with this kind of tenderness.

you want to pull away. you should. you really, really should.

but instead you stay.

you stay because there’s something about this moment that feels too fragile to break. something inside you, some cracked place, is being filled just by existing in this quiet closeness. and you realize—though you’ve never wanted to admit it—that you’ve been touch-starved for a long time. that there’s a part of you that’s been aching for connection, for warmth, for someone.

his fingers twitch slightly in his sleep, adjusting against your hip, and your breath catches. the movement is innocent, unconscious—but your skin reacts like it’s been branded. you swallow hard, trying to still the storm inside you, even though the one outside is already gone.

you stay like that for several more minutes, listening to the soft hum of the apartment, watching the way the sunlight plays over his features. you trace the line of his brow with your eyes, the soft curve of his lashes, the shape of his lips. he looks so peaceful like this—unguarded, almost boyish. and for a second, you wonder what he’s dreaming about. if he ever dreamed of something like this.

he stirs eventually, a sleepy sound escaping his throat as he blinks slowly awake. his gaze is unfocused at first, but then it lands on you, and something warm flickers in it.

“…morning,” he mumbles, voice still gravelly from sleep.

“morning,” you whisper back, suddenly aware of how close you are, of how your bodies are still tucked together like pieces of the same story.

neither of you moves.

there’s a pause where his eyes search your face, slow and unreadable. and then, with a sleepy smile tugging at his lips, he lets out a soft breath.

“you didn’t run away in the middle of the night. that’s a good sign.”

you laugh quietly, your cheeks burning. “i slept too well to even think about moving.”

he hums, pleased. “me too. i usually toss around like crazy, but i guess… you were a good influence.”

you want to joke. to deflect. but instead you find yourself whispering something real.

“i felt safe.”

his eyes soften.

you don’t say anything else. you just lie there a while longer, not moving, not rushing. there’s a peace in the way your bodies still fit together, in how neither of you seems quite ready to let go.

but the world, eventually, pulls you back. responsibilities, the clock ticking louder in your head. breakfast. classes. life.

yeonjun stretches lazily and finally pulls back, giving you space without question, his smile sleepy but kind. “i’ll make us coffee.”

you nod, watching him slip out of bed, hair tousled, shirt riding up slightly at the back. you press your hand to where his body had been, still warm, and you sit there a little longer, your thoughts spiraling in slow, confused circles.

because even though last night was about fear and storms… this morning feels like the beginning of something else entirely.

the waiting room smells like antiseptic and soft lavender, a strange combination that doesn’t manage to calm your nerves. you sit side by side with yeonjun on a sleek government-issued bench, your fingers clasped tightly on your lap, trying not to let your knee bounce with the anxiety pressing into your chest.

he seems more composed than you are—back straight, hands relaxed, legs slightly spread in his usual confident posture—but when you glance sideways, you notice how he keeps licking his lips, how his jaw clenches just a little every few seconds.

the appointment with the planning officer had been scheduled right after your wedding—clinical, efficient, emotionless, like everything else in this system. you hadn’t talked about it. hadn’t even wanted to think about it. but now it’s here, and there’s nowhere to hide.

“choi yeonjun. choi y/n,” a nurse calls softly from the doorway, clipboard in hand. “follow me.”

you walk side by side into a white, spotless office where a woman in a pale beige suit greets you from behind a desk. she looks to be in her forties, composed, direct, her nametag reading ms. kang – reproductive health officer.

you sit across from her. the air feels heavier now.

“so,” she begins, smiling in that polite, unyielding way government workers do, “you’re about a month into your union. how’s the adjustment been?”

you blink, unsure how to answer. yeonjun speaks first.

“we’re getting used to it. slowly.”

“good,” she nods, tapping something on her tablet. “you’ve both passed the health screenings, no genetic flags or fertility concerns. so the next step is to begin trials of compatibility-based conception.”

you shift in your seat. trials.

“have you already begun your sexual relationship?” she asks, her tone calm, like she’s asking about the weather.

your breath catches. your eyes widen slightly, and your face goes hot. “uh—no. not yet,” you manage, your voice too soft, almost guilty.

yeonjun straightens a little, eyebrows twitching, his tone sharper. “we’ve only been married a few weeks. there hasn’t been time.”

ms. kang doesn’t flinch. she only nods and types something on her screen. “i see. while it’s natural for some couples to take time, we recommend initiating intimacy soon. it will help establish the rhythm of your connection and allow us to track progress for planning interventions if necessary.”

your ears are burning now. her words play back in your head like static: initiate intimacy, track progress.

you glance at yeonjun without meaning to, and he’s already looking at you—but his expression is unreadable. his jaw is tight again.

“we’ll… take that into consideration,” he says curtly.

the rest of the appointment passes in a blur. you nod and agree to things you barely hear, accept pamphlets on fertility monitoring and hormonal optimization. by the time you walk out of the clinic, your skin feels too tight for your body.

you don’t speak on the way home.

you sit beside him on the train, trying to focus on the passing buildings outside the window, but your thoughts keep circling the same place. the way she said it. the expectation of it. and worse—the idea of it.

because the thing is… you’ve thought about it. even before this meeting, in the quiet moments, in the space between shared breakfasts and brushing past each other in the kitchen, in that night you slept in his arms like you belonged there.

you’ve wondered what his mouth would feel like pressed to your neck.

you’ve wondered how his hands would move if he weren’t just offering comfort.

you’ve wondered how his voice would sound if it wasn’t so composed—if it cracked with want.

but that was all private. safe in your imagination. not something stamped into paperwork. not something tracked by government programs and fertility logs.

and now you can’t not think about it.

when you finally get home, it’s too quiet. you move around each other like magnets unsure if they should attract or repel. you both pretend you’re just tired. that it was just a long day.

but the silence drips between you, thick and unspoken.

you head to your room without a word, tossing the clinic folder on your desk like it burns. you try to sleep. but the image of yeonjun, tense and handsome in the cold clinic light, won’t leave your mind. his voice, defensive. his fingers, twitching on his knee. and most of all, the memory of his arm around your waist from that night—the heat of his skin under your palm.

an hour passes. maybe two.

you shift in bed, restless. you toss the blanket off. put it back on. stare at the ceiling. you hear footsteps in the hall.

a soft knock at your door.

you sit up, heart hammering. “come in.”

yeonjun stands there, messy hair and hoodie half-zipped, eyes unreadable in the dim light. he doesn’t come in right away. just leans against the doorframe and runs a hand through his hair.

“sorry,” he says after a moment. “about earlier. the clinic.”

you nod. “it’s okay.”

he looks at you then, longer, and something flickers in his expression—something caught between curiosity and hesitation.

“they make it sound like it’s supposed to be… mechanical,” he murmurs, crossing the room slowly. “but it’s not, right? it’s not supposed to be.”

your breath catches.

he stops by your bed. close enough for you to see the flutter of his lashes, the nervous line between his brows. close enough that you feel the heat radiating off his body.

you don’t know who moves first. maybe it’s you. maybe it’s both of you at the same time. but suddenly, the space between you disappears.

his hand brushes your cheek, soft and hesitant, and you lean into it without thinking.

“i don’t want it to be just… a task,” he says quietly, voice barely a breath now. “not with you.”

you don’t answer. you just let your forehead rest against his chest, your heart beating too loudly, your breath catching in your throat. and when he wraps his arms around you again—warm and strong and familiar—you feel the storm rising again.

but this time, it’s not outside.

it’s you. it’s him.

and it’s not fear anymore.

it’s something else entirely.

you don’t kiss that night.

you could’ve. maybe you almost do. there’s a moment where his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth and your eyes lift to meet his, and you feel it—that shift, like the world holds its breath. but then he steps back, gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and says goodnight in a voice that’s too soft, too careful.

he leaves your door cracked open behind him. and somehow, that’s worse than closing it.

after that, the tension lingers—thick and quiet like smoke.

in the mornings, you find yourselves together more often than not. your coffee mugs sit side by side now. sometimes you forget whose is whose. he steals sips from yours and you pretend to scowl, but your heart trips every time your fingers brush when you both reach for the sugar at the same time.

you fall into a rhythm. not romantic. not domestic. but something else. something intimate in a quiet way.

when the job placement emails come through, you sit together on the couch, scrolling through them on your shared government-issued tablet. yeonjun lands a spot as an assistant at a community cultural center downtown—flexible hours, reasonable pay. you get placed in a local library, part-time shelving and cataloguing.

it’s not exciting. it’s not your dream. but it’s… stable.

“at least we won’t starve,” yeonjun says one evening, his arm slung lazily over the back of the couch behind you. “thanks, government.”

you snort. “maybe next year they’ll assign us a kid and a dog, too.”

he laughs—really laughs, loud and full—and something about the sound makes your chest ache. it makes you want to say something dumb just to hear it again.

but what sticks with you, what haunts you, is that night after the storm. not because of what happened—because of what didn’t.

and what happened at the clinic. what the officer said. what yeonjun said after.

you think about it too much. think about him too much.

and you think about her.

the girl he loved once. the one he talked about in that quiet, midnight voice, when the rain had softened and you were wrapped in his hoodie like armor.

you remember how his gaze turned distant as he spoke of her, how he confessed that he truly believed she’d be the one assigned to him. that he waited. that he hoped.

how the disappointment burned when he found out she wasn’t.

and you shouldn’t feel anything about it. it’s in the past. he told you that.

but sometimes, when you catch him staring into space or fiddling with that little leather bracelet he always wears, your chest twists a little. and you don’t know why.

you’re not in love.

you’re not supposed to fall in love.

yet it keeps slipping in—quiet and slow. like water through cracks.

one evening, it rains again. not a storm, just a steady drizzle that makes the air smell clean. you’re both tired from work and university, but neither of you wants to be alone in your room.

you sit on the windowsill together, knees touching, sharing a bowl of strawberries yeonjun bought on the way home. the fruit is sweet and cold against your tongue.

“i used to love the rain,” he murmurs, watching it trail down the glass. “when i was a kid, i’d sit on the porch for hours just listening. it felt like… everything else stopped for a while.”

you glance at him. his profile is soft in the dim light, his hair falling slightly over his eyes.

“it used to scare me,” you admit quietly. “storms, i mean. as you may know...”

he smiles without turning to you. “you were scared.”

“yeah.”

there’s a pause.

“you weren’t scared the other night,” he says. “not with me.”

you shrug. “you made it easy not to be.”

the silence that follows is gentle. not awkward. just… full.

“do you think it’s still possible?” he asks suddenly. “to fall for someone? even with all of this?” he gestures vaguely, and you know he means the system, the laws, the matching algorithms and fertility checkups and pre-written life paths.

you don’t answer right away. you don’t know how to.

“i think we’re not supposed to,” you say after a long pause. “but maybe… that doesn’t stop it from happening.”

his eyes find yours then, and they don’t look away.

your heart stumbles.

neither of you speaks. the air feels like it’s crackling again—not with lightning, but with something just as dangerous.

the next night, you fall asleep on the couch together. not planned. not anything.

you were watching something. you don’t even remember what. but you woke up with your head on his chest, his arm wrapped around you, heartbeat steady against your ear.

you don’t move. you can’t move.

it feels too good. too right.

his shirt smells like laundry soap and skin. his fingers shift in his sleep, brushing lightly along your back. it makes you shiver. it makes you think about things you shouldn’t.

you stay there until the sun begins to rise.

you pretend to be asleep when he finally stirs and lifts his head slightly, blinking at your face. you feel the weight of his gaze.

but he doesn’t move either.

and neither do you.

because something’s changing. you both feel it.

you just don’t say it. not yet.

not until it’s too loud to ignore.

and maybe that moment is coming faster than either of you is ready for.

you try not to overthink the moments.

you try.

the accidental sleep on the couch becomes less accidental. the next week, it happens again—this time during a shared late-night study session. you're both exhausted, papers and notebooks strewn across the coffee table, half-finished cups of coffee gone cold.

you wake up tucked under the same blanket, the light off, the tablet blinking low battery on the floor. yeonjun is beside you, his legs tangled with yours, his breathing soft against the crown of your head.

he doesn’t say anything when you open your eyes. he’s already awake, watching you, and when he sees you stir, he whispers a faint “morning” like it’s a secret.

you nod, throat dry. “morning.”

neither of you moves.

and maybe it’s the silence. maybe it’s the way his hand is resting lightly on your hip, not possessive, not bold—just there.or maybe it’s because of the way your name sounds in his voice lately—gentler, more familiar, too intimate for two people who were supposed to be strangers made spouses.

whatever it is, it roots itself deep in your chest, wraps vines around your ribs, and refuses to let go.

but things are still complicated.

you remember the appointment at the family planning center far too clearly. how the sterile walls and uncomfortable chairs felt like a sentence being handed down. the woman at the desk, clipboard in hand, speaking in clinical terms while smiling too much. the questions.

“have you two begun sexual relations yet?”

your body stiffened so fast it hurt. you’d shaken your head, cheeks burning.

“no,” you said, barely above a whisper.

and then yeonjun.

his voice didn’t waver. didn’t shrink. but there was a hint of something—offense, maybe, or just discomfort buried beneath practiced calm.

“not yet.”

not yet.

those words echoed for hours after.

the woman nodded, unbothered, flipping her pen in one hand.

“you should consider beginning soon,” she said, checking off a box. “intimacy will help strengthen the emotional bond and allow us to begin identifying which fertility path will suit your needs. the government recommends couples begin within the first ninety days of union.”

you had never wanted to disappear more.

the walk home was silent.

yeonjun didn’t mention it. you didn’t either.

but it sat between you like a stormcloud, buzzing with electricity, waiting to crack open.

you catch him watching you more after that. not in a bad way. not in a way that makes you feel unsafe. no—it makes you feel too safe, and that’s somehow worse.

he’s careful. always. but he’s still a boy. and you’re still you. and your bodies know things your minds are afraid to say.

the small space you share only makes things more dangerous.

his cologne clings to your pillows. your lotion starts appearing on his arms. he hums the songs you listen to in the shower. he buys your favorite snack without asking.

you start wearing his shirts to sleep without realizing. you only notice the third time it happens—when he stops in the hallway and his eyes dip, linger, then flick back up with a quiet clearing of his throat.

“is that mine?”

you glance down at yourself. it’s an old oversized gray tee. soft. worn. familiar. his scent baked into the fabric like sunlight.

“uh… yeah. sorry. it was just on the chair and—”

“keep it,” he says, not letting you finish. “looks better on you.”

you go to bed that night with your skin buzzing.

and things only build from there.

he starts cooking more, pulling you into the kitchen with an easy “help me” that really means just stand here while i talk to you. you lean on the counter while he cuts vegetables, while he stirs sauces, while he tells you about his classes and how boring statistics is, how he almost fell asleep mid-lecture. you laugh and call him dramatic. he grins and tells you it’s your fault for not waking him up when he left.

“you’re supposed to be my wife now. you have responsibilities.”

he says it like a joke. you laugh like it is one.

but your heart stutters anyway.

one night, it rains again. not a storm, just heavy and constant, soft thunder echoing in the distance. you find yourself awake at midnight again, restless, curled on the couch in the living room with your knees tucked to your chest.

yeonjun finds you there.

he doesn’t say anything—just sits beside you, close but not touching, and watches the rain drip down the windows.

“can’t sleep?” he asks.

you shake your head. “not really.”

“you okay?”

you nod, even though you’re not sure.

the air between you hums. it’s familiar now. this closeness. this heavy, unsaid thing growing slowly between shared silences and sidelong glances.

you lean your head on his shoulder, unsure why. maybe it’s because the rain feels lonelier tonight. maybe it’s because it feels like something is shifting again.

his breath hitches almost imperceptibly, but he doesn’t move away.

“do you think they’re watching us?” you ask softly. “the government, i mean. checking how fast we fall in love. how fast we sleep together.”

he’s quiet for a moment.

“maybe,” he says finally. “but they can’t measure the parts that matter.”

“like what?”

he tilts his head toward yours. “like this.”

you feel the words like fingertips down your spine.

you close your eyes, and his shoulder under your cheek feels like solid ground.

this is the moment where maybe everything could change.

but you don’t kiss. not yet.

you breathe in together.

and for now, that’s enough.

the power cuts out a little after ten. it happens suddenly—an abrupt flicker, followed by darkness swallowing the apartment whole.

you blink, heart skipping, your body already tightening with reflex from the sound, from the silence that follows too quickly.

then the soft sound of rain begins again.

but unlike the last time, this one is gentle. no thunder, no flashes of light through the windows. just rain, steady and calm like fingers tapping against glass. it’s the kind of rain that makes the night feel softer than usual. quieter.

yeonjun lights a candle he keeps in the drawer near the kitchen, its flame swaying in the center of the living room table, casting shadows on the walls. he brings it over to the couch where you sit curled up under a blanket, your knees pressed to your chest, already waiting.

he joins you without asking.

“guess we’ll have to pretend we’re in the 1800s,” he murmurs, glancing at the candle.

you laugh softly. “at least you’re not reading me poetry.”

“don’t tempt me,” he grins.

the silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. it rarely is now. something about the rain, the flicker of light, the way you’re seated side by side with your shoulders barely touching, it all feels… close.

your gaze drifts to the window, where the raindrops race each other down the glass. and before you can stop yourself, your thoughts start circling again. you’ve been doing that more and more—ever since that night. ever since yeonjun told you about her. the girl he loved in high school. the one he thought would be assigned to him.

you swallow. your chest tightens, not with pain exactly—more like an unfamiliar ache. something raw you haven’t named yet.

“can i ask you something?” you say, voice quiet.

yeonjun hums, eyes still on the candlelight. “of course.”

“i haven’t stopped thinking about her.”

he turns to you, brows faintly furrowed. “who?”

“the girl you were in love with.”

his expression doesn’t change much. he just blinks slowly, watching you. “why?”

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “i don’t know. maybe because… i’m jealous of her.”

that makes him laugh—soft, surprised. “jealous?”

you nod, heart pounding. “yeah. i guess it’s stupid. but… she got to be your first love. she got all of you when it meant something. and now, i’m just—”

“my wife?” he cuts in, still smiling, trying to lighten the air. “you’re my wife now. kind of a win, don’t you think?”

but you don’t smile back.

you turn to face him, the dim light catching on your lashes, your jaw tight. “it’s not the same,” you say softly. “i know this is supposed to be a marriage, but it doesn’t feel right… hearing about your past like that. it’s not fair. it’s not fair that i have to be the one who came after.”

yeonjun’s smile fades. the playfulness drains from his face, replaced by something heavier. something slower. he looks at you like he’s really seeing you now—like maybe he’s been seeing you all along but didn’t know how close you were to unraveling.

“hey,” he says quietly, voice low and careful. “you’re not after anyone.”

you try to look away, but he catches your chin between two fingers, guiding your eyes back to his.

“she’s the past,” he murmurs. “but you—you’re the present. you’re the one who’s here. who sleeps beside me. who leaves hair ties on the bathroom sink and wears my shirts and steals my side of the bed.”

your lips part, but no sound comes out.

“don’t do that to yourself,” he whispers. “don’t compare. it’s not the same because this is real. and growing. and you—”

he leans closer.

“you make me forget her name.”

you blink, breath catching. the air feels different now. the candlelight flickers between you, but you can barely see it. all you can see is him—his face inches from yours, his voice warm and deep and trembling just enough to make your pulse race.

“yeonjun…”

“can i kiss you?” he breathes.

you nod.

slowly, his hand slides to your jaw, his thumb brushing the soft skin beneath your cheekbone. he closes the space between you inch by inch, giving you time to pull away, but you don’t. you lean in.

when his lips finally meet yours, it’s not fireworks. it’s gravity.

you sink into it, into him, into the warmth and tenderness of it. it’s careful, at first—testing, soft, a question asked in the silence. but then you tilt your head, fingers finding the collar of his shirt, and he answers with a deeper kiss, one that pulls a sound from the back of your throat you didn’t expect.

it’s too much. it’s not enough. it’s everything all at once.

when you finally part, you’re breathless.

he presses his forehead to yours. the candle crackles gently nearby. the rain keeps falling.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper.

“don’t be,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “i should’ve known. i should’ve said something sooner.”

you shake your head. “no. i needed to feel it. to say it. i think i’ve been holding everything back since this marriage started.”

“me too.”

you both fall quiet again, but this time, it’s different.

you’re not two strangers trying to survive a system anymore.

you’re two people finally reaching across the space that was never meant to last.

and outside, the rain sings soft lullabies to the city, and the candle flickers like a heartbeat, and in his arms, you no longer feel like a second choice.

you feel chosen.

the next morning, something has changed.

it’s subtle. nothing overt. not at first.

you wake up earlier than him and find yourself just… watching him for a moment. the soft rise and fall of his chest. the curve of his lashes against his cheek. how he frowns slightly in his sleep, like he’s still half in a dream. you should look away—you’ve always looked away before—but now your eyes linger.

when he stirs, blinking against the light, he sees you watching. he doesn’t flinch. he just smiles, sleep-warm and real, and your heart does something uncomfortable and sweet in your chest.

“morning,” he murmurs, voice rough.

“morning,” you whisper back, your voice catching a little.

he reaches out lazily, his fingers brushing your arm beneath the blanket, and even though it’s nothing, just that, your breath hitches. you tell yourself it’s the closeness. the aftermath of the kiss. but the warmth in your chest says something else.

and then the day goes on—but not quite the same.

at breakfast, he sits closer than usual. your elbows touch when you both reach for the sugar. he doesn’t apologize like before. doesn’t pull away. just grins and bumps your shoulder on purpose this time.

you roll your eyes. “you’re annoying.”

“you kissed me last night,” he says, way too casually. “you don’t get to call me annoying anymore.”

“you asked first.”

“still counts.”

the banter is light, teasing, familiar. but under it, there’s a new current. an awareness. every glance feels heavier. every touch lingers a second longer than it should. when he hands you a dish, his fingers brush yours, and neither of you lets go right away.

the silence between you becomes something else entirely. no longer filled with obligation or awkwardness. now it feels like a question that neither of you is brave enough to answer out loud.

until it happens again. in the kitchen, late at night, as you’re washing dishes and he comes up behind you. at first it’s innocent—he says something dumb, you laugh—but then his hand finds the small of your back, and you freeze, not because it’s wrong but because it’s not. it feels too good. too natural.

you turn, slowly, water dripping from your hands, and he’s already looking at you like he wants to kiss you again.

he doesn’t. not yet. he just leans in and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers graze your cheek, his eyes drop to your lips, and then—he walks away.

you stand there for a moment, heart pounding, wondering how the hell he keeps doing this to you.

a few days later, you’re invited to visit your family.

it’s your first time back since the marriage. your parents had called to check in, of course, had even video called once or twice, but nothing replaces being home. your mother’s cooking. your father’s quiet warmth. your brother’s chaotic energy.

the moment you walk through the door, your mom pulls you into a hug so tight you almost cry again. your dad claps yeonjun’s shoulder, awkward but trying. your brother, now twelve, looks like he’s grown taller.

he eyes yeonjun up and down, squints a little, then smirks at you.

“so, are you pregnant yet?”

you freeze.

your dad chokes on his tea. your mother lets out a gasp so sharp it could cut metal. yeonjun’s eyes go wide—like someone just yanked the floor out from under him.

“yoonho!” your mom yells, already reaching for the nearest dish towel like it’s a weapon. “you can’t ask that!”

“what?” your brother yells as he runs from her, laughing like a maniac. “i just wanted to know if the government system’s working!”

your dad is still coughing. you’re standing there redder than a tomato. burning with mortification.

yeonjun, after a stunned beat, laughs. really laughs. full chest, head-tilted-back laughter that’s so contagious you can’t help but giggle through your hands.

“don’t encourage him,” you say, smacking his arm lightly.

he grins down at you, eyes sparkling. “i’m sorry, that was—really something.”

“he’s an idiot,” you mutter, still mortified.

“he’s your idiot,” he says, voice softer now.

you glance up at him and smile, something warm spreading in your chest. it surprises you, just how much that smile feels like home.

and even after the chaos settles, even after your mom manages to drag your brother back by the collar to apologize properly, even when you sit around the table laughing and eating and telling stories—there’s a small, secret current running beneath it all.

the way yeonjun’s hand grazes your lower back when he leans past you to grab a dish. the way you lean into him just slightly when your mom starts talking about your childhood, and he listens like he wants to know everything.

and when the night ends, and you both return to your apartment, it’s quieter—but it’s a good quiet. that kind of peace you only feel when someone’s truly, finally getting under your skin.

the drive back home is quiet, but not in a bad way. it’s the kind of silence that lingers after too much laughter, after too much emotion crammed into too little time. the windows are fogged slightly from your breaths, and the hum of the road is the only sound between you. outside, the city lights blur in soft halos, the streets wet from the rain earlier in the day, reflecting neon and moonlight.

you’re leaning against the car door, eyes heavy, body full from dinner, from memories, from everything. your family had insisted you stay the night, but you knew it would’ve made leaving harder. too emotional. too permanent. so you thanked them, smiled through the tightness in your throat, and left.

and now, here you are, beside him. yeonjun’s one hand is on the wheel, the other resting between the seats, fingers tapping idly against the console. you glance at it once. then again. his profile is calm, a faint curve to his lips like he’s still smiling at your brother’s chaos.

you break the silence first.

“sorry about today… my family can be a lot.”

he lets out a soft chuckle. “i liked it.”

you turn to him, a little surprised.

“really?”

he nods. “they’re… warm. chaotic, yeah, but it felt real. like they love you so much they don’t even try to hide it.”

you press your lips together, looking down at your lap, suddenly blinking back something stinging in your eyes. you weren’t expecting that answer. or maybe you were, but not the way it made your chest ache so gently.

“thanks,” you whisper.

you don’t realize you’re still staring at him until he speaks again, this time softer.

“and your brother…” he smirks a little. “i can’t believe he said that.”

you groan, hiding your face in your hands. “please don’t remind me.”

“i’m serious,” he laughs, and then looks over at you, his gaze lingering longer this time, “you were so red.”

“because it was embarrassing,” you shoot back, but your voice is lighter, warm with the trace of a smile.

his eyes flick down to your lips.

“you’re cute when you blush,” he murmurs, and it’s so quiet you’re not even sure he meant to say it out loud.

your breath catches. your heart stutters. suddenly the space between you feels smaller. the console is no longer an arm’s length—it’s a breath. the air is thicker. hotter.

you look at him, really look at him—his jaw sharp in the glow of passing streetlamps, the tendons in his neck tense, his grip on the wheel a little tighter now. he looks back, just briefly, but it’s enough. something electric pulses between you.

and then he pulls over.

not far from your building, not quite home yet—but enough to be alone. enough to pause. the engine hums low, a steady heartbeat in the silence. he doesn’t look at you right away, just stares forward, fingers tightening, loosening, tightening again on the wheel.

you feel your pulse in your throat.

“i…” he starts, then stops. he turns to you, eyes darker than before. clearer. “can i ask you something?”

you nod, heart racing.

“why did it bother you?” he asks quietly. “about the girl i told you about.”

you stare at him. that familiar heat returns to your chest, crawling up your neck. you bite the inside of your cheek before answering.

“i don’t know,” you lie at first. but then, you sigh. “maybe because it was real for you. maybe because… you had someone you wanted, once. and i never did. and now i’m supposed to just… live with that. pretend like i’m not wondering if she would’ve made you happier.”

he watches you for a long moment, expression unreadable. then, finally, he leans a little closer, voice low.

“do you think i’m not happy?”

your throat dries.

“are you?” you whisper.

he exhales slowly, shaking his head like he can’t believe he’s about to do this. and then he shifts, fully turning toward you. his fingers reach up, brushing lightly against your chin, lifting your face to his.

“you’re not her,” he says. “you’re you.”

and then, without waiting, without asking again—he kisses you.

it’s not urgent. not rough. it’s slow, deliberate, tender with something sharp hidden beneath. like he’s been holding it back for too long and now that it’s happening, he’s pouring everything into it. his hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. your lips part before you even realize, and his tongue grazes yours, soft, testing, like he’s still asking if this is okay even now.

you melt into it.

your hand slides up his arm, gripping his bicep, grounding yourself as heat spreads through your veins. your bodies don’t move much, still confined by seatbelts and space, but it’s intimate. intense. and when he finally pulls back, breathing harder than before, he rests his forehead against yours.

“you’re not her,” he whispers again. “and thank god for that.”

you sit there, breaths mingling, skin flushed, hearts racing in tandem. your hand is still on his arm. his thumb is still tracing your cheek.

and this time, neither of you says a word. because you both know—something just changed again.

you’re not lovers. not yet.

but your hands brush again on the way to bed. he holds your gaze a little longer. and when you lie down, back to back, you find yourself pressing closer, just enough that your spine feels the heat of his chest.

you fall asleep like that.

and neither of you says a word.

you both had an appointment early in the morning. the ministry of civil labor had sent a formal notice last week, listing the available part-time positions for couples still enrolled in university, and now you were seated across from an administrative worker who barely looked up from her screen as she explained the contracts. yeonjun was placed in a logistics department for a government-run supply chain—something with inventory and system inputs. you were assigned to a small local archival center where they'd digitize old birth and marriage records, which felt ironic in a way that made your stomach twist.

“you’ll receive your first schedule by the end of the week,” the woman said without emotion, and you both nodded, signing at the bottom of the page, pens scratching the paper in tandem.

walking out of the building, yeonjun nudged your shoulder with his and whispered, “look at us. signing contracts like a real married couple.” and you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile pulling at your lips.

“you mean we weren’t real before?” you asked, raising a brow.

he smirked, unlocking the car and opening your door. “we were married on paper. now we’re married... and employed.”

you both laughed, climbing into the vehicle, and the warmth lingered even after the engine hummed to life. it was a quiet kind of happiness, soft and simple, like the feeling of your bare thighs against the leather seat, like the sun warming the dashboard. you wore a dress that day—casual, nothing too fancy, but it clung lightly to your frame in the breeze when you walked out earlier, and you caught the way yeonjun had looked at you from the corner of your eye. not blatant. just... noticing.

the road was mostly empty. the hum of tires on pavement filled the silence as the laughter faded, replaced by something thicker. something weightier.

at a red light, he stopped the car smoothly, one hand still on the steering wheel. the other lifted, slowly, casually, and without looking at you, he placed it on your thigh.

he didn’t squeeze. he didn’t slide his fingers higher. just let his palm rest there, warm and firm, like it belonged.

your breath hitched.

you tried not to move, tried not to tense up, but the sensation crawled up your spine like wildfire. it was such a simple touch, so ordinary, but it landed somewhere deep in your belly—hot, twisting, coiling. your skin tingled where his fingers barely pressed into the flesh, and your thighs felt suddenly, achingly aware of how little separated them from him.

he said nothing.

neither did you.

but your body betrayed you—the way your chest rose a little faster, the way your knees shifted slightly, as if trying to find an answer to the question that touch had asked.

the light turned green.

he drove on.

his hand didn’t move.

the silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was charged. heavy with something that neither of you dared name yet.

you exhaled, slow and shaky, and he glanced at you briefly, lips curving—not into a smirk, but something softer. something fond. he rubbed his thumb in a slow arc, barely there, and your fingers curled around the hem of your dress to keep from shaking.

by the time you got home, the tension had woven itself into your skin like a second layer. you both stepped out of the car and walked toward the apartment quietly, but the air buzzed with every step.

inside, the routine resumed—shoes off, bags down, water poured into glasses—but your thoughts were nowhere near the surface. every time he passed behind you, you felt his presence more than you saw him. every brush of his hand, every graze of his arm felt like a firestarter.

you stood near the sink, rinsing the cups, when he came up behind you. didn’t touch you. just stood close enough that you felt the heat of his chest on your back, close enough that your breathing stuttered.

“need help?” he murmured, voice low, mouth near your ear.

you shook your head, but your body leaned slightly into him anyway. traitorously.

his hands didn’t move—not yet—but his presence surrounded you, a quiet pressure that built with every second. you turned your head slightly to glance at him, and the proximity was enough to make you both pause. your lips weren’t touching, but they could’ve. your noses almost brushed.

and then he reached for the cup beside you, taking it slowly, deliberately, his fingers brushing yours. your breath caught again.

“thanks,” he said, voice still low.

you watched him walk away, your hands trembling under the water, and you knew—tonight, you wouldn’t be able to pretend this tension didn’t exist. it was burning its way into your bones.

that night, everything felt like it was humming. the silence between you wasn’t really silence—it was full of what hadn’t been said, of what hadn’t been done but nearly was. the ghost of yeonjun’s hand on your thigh still lingered, burned into your skin. your legs still tingled from the pressure, the weight, the heat. and when he brushed past you in the kitchen again after dinner, it felt deliberate. or maybe you just wanted it to be.

your heart hadn’t settled since the drive home.

later, after you’d both changed into your sleep clothes, you met again in the hallway, the light above you casting a golden hue that made his skin look warm and soft. you paused at the same time, eyes locking. your breath caught in your throat, because he wasn’t just looking at you—he was seeing you. seeing the hem of your shirt, the way it clung slightly to your waist. seeing the bare stretch of your legs, your collarbone, the fine line of your neck.

you thought he’d say something.

he didn’t.

he just stepped past you, heading to the shared living room like usual. the storm from earlier had passed, leaving a cool breeze in its wake. you followed, drawn to him like always. you both sat on the couch, feet tucked beneath you, shoulders close but not quite touching. it was dark. the power had gone out temporarily again, only the soft blue emergency lights casting faint shadows across his face.

“you’re quiet,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“just thinking,” he replied, his tone low, almost distant.

you turned your head toward him. “about what?”

he hesitated. “about earlier... the car. and how it felt.”

you sucked in a soft breath. “me too.”

silence again.

and then, slowly, as if guided by instinct, he reached over and touched your hand. fingers brushing the back of yours. the contact was small. barely anything. but it was enough to pull the air from your lungs. you turned your palm and laced your fingers with his.

it felt dangerous.

he looked at your joined hands like he didn’t recognize his own, and then back at you—his eyes darker than usual, hooded, like he was holding back a tide. you weren’t sure who moved first. maybe it was him. maybe it was you. but one second you were sitting apart, and the next your bodies were angled toward each other, your knees brushing, your breaths tangled. his hand cupped your jaw gently, fingers trembling against your skin, and he leaned in, close enough that his lips nearly grazed yours.

your pulse roared in your ears.

his mouth touched yours like a whisper—featherlight, testing.

you responded before you could think, lips parting for him, heat blooming low in your stomach like wildfire. the kiss deepened slowly, wet and slow and dizzying. his tongue brushed yours, cautious at first, then more certain, like he needed to taste you, like he was starved. your hand curled into his shirt, tugging him closer, and he groaned softly into your mouth, deep and breathless.

his hand slid down your side, fingers skating over the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, and you gasped when they reached your hip. he pulled you into his lap, your thighs straddling him, bodies pressed together too close to ignore. the heat between you crackled—your hips shifted without thinking, and you felt the hardness of him, solid and hot beneath you.

his lips broke from yours for a second, his breathing rough. “fuck... y/n...”

his hands gripped your thighs, sliding up, thumbs brushing the edge of your underwear. you whimpered, pressing closer, grinding down gently. it was heady. dizzying. perfect.

and then—

his phone rang.

the sound shattered the moment like glass.

you both froze.

you were on his lap, panting, trembling, your lips swollen from the kiss, your heart pounding like a war drum. he didn’t move for a second. then he cursed under his breath and gently lifted you off him, muttering a strained apology as he reached for the phone. his voice cracked when he answered, trying to sound normal.

you stood there, stunned, breathing hard, still tasting him on your tongue.

after the call, which only lasted a few seconds, he didn’t look at you.

“i think... i’ll sleep in my room tonight,” he said quietly.

you blinked. “oh.”

he didn’t explain.

he just walked away.

and something cold settled in your chest.

you crawled into your bed alone, wrapping the blanket around yourself tightly, but you couldn’t sleep. not when you still felt the ghost of his hands on your body. not when your lips were still tingling from the kiss. not when he had looked at you like he needed you, and then walked away without a word.

you turned over. again. again. and again. your heart ached with confusion. was it too much? did he regret it? had you done something wrong?

you couldn’t take it anymore.

you got up, padded down the hall to his room, and raised your fist to knock.

but then you froze.

because you heard it.

soft, muffled sounds, irregular breathing. your eyes widened.

a low groan, deep and drawn out.

then a quiet, wet sound—rhythmic, unmistakable.

your breath caught.

you didn’t mean to listen. but you couldn’t move.

then, you heard it.

“y/n...”

your name, moaned out—quiet but desperate. raw. like a confession.

your knees weakened.

another moan, louder this time, almost a whimper.

and then—your name again, breathless, almost broken, followed by the sound of skin slapping softly against skin, faster now.

he was close.

he was touching himself.

thinking of you.

you pressed your palm to your mouth, trying not to make a sound, cheeks burning, body trembling. you shouldn’t be here. you shouldn’t hear this. but your legs wouldn’t move. your breath came in shaky gasps, your heart thundering as heat rushed between your thighs, pooling heavy and hot.

you didn’t know what this meant.

but you knew one thing.

he wanted you.

and now, you didn’t think you could ever look at him the same again.

you didn’t mean to lean closer.

you didn’t mean to press your ear too tightly against the door.

but your balance faltered—just a second too long standing on your toes, your weight shifting, your breath too shallow—and suddenly your foot slipped on the edge of the smooth hallway floor. a soft, startled sound escaped your throat as your body tilted sideways, your hand fumbling for the wall, failing.

and then—thud.

a soft crash, your hip hitting the floor, your palms slapping down just in time to soften the fall. you gasped and quickly clamped your hand over your mouth, praying he hadn’t heard, that you hadn’t been loud enough—but inside, panic bloomed like fire. your chest heaved as you tried to stay perfectly still, your cheeks on fire, the oversized t-shirt—his t-shirt—riding high around your waist from the fall.

then you heard the shuffle. footsteps. hurried. a sudden rush from the other side.

“y/n?” his voice was sharp. worried. confused.

before you could react, the door swung open.

and there he was.

yeonjun.

bare-chested, sweat clinging to his collarbones, his hair disheveled, lips swollen and flushed, his hand still adjusting the waistband of his boxers as if he hadn’t had time to fix himself. and then he saw you.

on the floor.

his shirt up around your waist.

your bare thighs. your panties exposed.

your hand covering your mouth, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

time froze.

he stared at you, blinking once, then again. his mouth parted, but no words came out. his gaze dropped—just for a heartbeat—but you saw it. the flicker. the hunger. the tension that snapped into existence like a spark to gasoline.

you scrambled to tug the shirt down, cheeks burning, breath caught.

“i—i slipped, i wasn’t—i mean—”

“were you listening?” his voice came out low. rough.

you opened your mouth, then shut it. your throat tightened. your heart was pounding so violently you felt it behind your eyes.

“y/n…” he whispered, stepping closer.

your breath hitched.

“i heard you,” he said, his voice strained now. “outside the door. you… you heard me too, didn’t you?”

you nodded slowly, like it was all you could manage.

he knelt beside you without thinking, his hands hovering for a moment before one slid to the small of your back, the other cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin gently, eyes searching yours. “you heard me… say your name.”

you couldn’t speak.

“fuck,” he whispered. “i didn’t mean for you to know. i tried to walk away because i couldn’t control it. i thought... if i gave us space—”

“why?” your voice cracked. “why did you walk away after kissing me like that?”

his jaw clenched. “because i wanted more. i wanted too much.”

your lips trembled. “me too.”

something inside him snapped.

he surged forward, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that was no longer restrained. this wasn’t careful. this wasn’t gentle. this was weeks of stolen glances and soft touches and building need exploding all at once. his mouth was hot, possessive, his hand slipping to your thigh, then gripping, pulling you into him as you moaned against his lips.

you tasted everything—desperation, desire, the salt on his skin from sweat, the sound of his breath ragged and wild. you clung to him, your fingers digging into his bare shoulders as he leaned you back slowly onto the hallway floor, his body covering yours, fitting against you perfectly. your thighs opened for him without thought, welcoming the pressure of his hips between them, the hardness of him pressing directly against the wet heat soaking your panties.

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned against your mouth, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

his hand slid beneath the hem of the shirt—his shirt—the one you wore to sleep every night, the one that smelled like him. his palm caressed your waist, your ribs, then cupped your breast softly over the fabric of your bra, his thumb teasing the sensitive peak until you whimpered, arching up into him.

“you shouldn’t be here,” he rasped, but didn’t stop. “i’m trying so hard to do this right. to be careful.”

“then don’t,” you whispered back, your voice broken, needful. “don’t be careful.”

his eyes burned into yours.

his lips kissed down your jaw, your neck, biting softly at the tender skin just below your ear. “you’re gonna make me lose it,” he growled.

“maybe i want you to.”

his hand slipped lower, over your stomach, fingers grazing the band of your panties—when suddenly—

a sharp knock on the front door shattered the moment.

you both froze.

his chest rose and fell against yours, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

another knock. then a voice from outside.

“government delivery. lights restored. system check.”

“fuck,” he hissed.

he helped you sit up, both of you breathing like you’d just run miles.

you looked at each other.

your lips swollen. your skin flushed. your bodies aching.

you wanted to scream.

but instead you swallowed it down, tugged the shirt over your thighs, stood on shaky legs. he followed you in silence, running a hand through his messy hair, still visibly hard, still clearly affected.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered.

you didn’t respond.

because you weren’t sure you wanted him to be.

you weren’t sure what you expected when you whispered, maybe i want you to. maybe you thought he would pull away, maybe he’d laugh and tell you to go to bed, that you were just talking nonsense, caught up in the tension of it all. but he didn’t. instead, the room stayed still, save for the thrum of the rain against the windows and the sound of his breathing, which was slow, deep, heavier now, as he looked down at you with something dark and burning in his eyes.

his voice was low, but not soft. "do you know what you're saying?" he asked, barely above a whisper. you nodded, your throat too tight to speak. you could feel his body, warm and solid, pressed against yours as he leaned in again, and this time the kiss wasn’t tentative. it was hungry, deeper, drawn out, and you could taste the restraint in him, the way he held himself back even as his hand gripped your waist tighter.

you barely noticed how he guided you back onto the mattress until your head hit the pillow. your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, the same one you'd stolen from him to sleep in, and now it was twisted between your hands as he kissed you again and again, lips trailing down the line of your jaw, the hollow of your throat, your pulse fluttering under his mouth.

every touch was slow, deliberate. when his hands slid under the hem of the shirt you wore, it wasn’t rushed—it was reverent. he looked at you like you were something sacred, something he’d been aching for, something forbidden and now finally his. his fingers traced the line of your hip, the soft skin just beneath your navel, pausing just above the waistband of your panties. you shivered beneath him, your body responding before your mind could catch up.

"tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours. you shook your head immediately, a breathy no escaping your lips before you could second guess it. and something in him broke. or maybe it snapped into place. he kissed you like it was the only thing keeping him alive, his hands roaming, learning the shape of you, the softness of your thighs, the arch of your back as you gasped under his touch.

he took his time. he whispered how beautiful you were, how long he had wanted you like this, how the thought of you in his bed had driven him insane since that first night the storm pushed you into his arms. every kiss lower was met with a pause, a glance, asking, confirming, cherishing. his hands didn’t fumble; they explored, gentle and firm, his mouth hot against your skin.

you had never felt like this before. it was more than arousal—it was a kind of unraveling, a melting of all the fear and restraint you had carried for so long. the rules, the systems, the cold logic of the world outside—none of it existed here. here, in his arms, you were just a girl wanting a boy. no laws. no assignments. no duties.

just him. just you.

and when he finally touched you, really touched you, the moan that escaped you was soft, stunned, your fingers digging into his shoulder as he kissed the side of your neck. you were wet, aching, needy in a way you hadn’t even known your body could feel, and yeonjun seemed to know exactly how to handle you—teasing, stroking, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

his own self-control was fraying at the edges. you could feel it in the way his breath hitched, the way his voice broke when he groaned your name against your collarbone, the way his hips rocked against your thigh without even realizing it.

"you make me crazy," he whispered, biting gently at your shoulder. "since that kiss. since that first night. fuck—i think about you all the time. you wearing my shirt, you laughing in the kitchen, you sleeping next to me—"

"yeonjun," you gasped, your back arching as his fingers slid beneath your panties, finally, finally touching you where you needed him most. he cursed under his breath, kissing you again as your legs parted naturally for him.

he kept you on the edge, slow, patient, as if he was memorizing every sound you made, every breath you took. he didn’t rush to have you—not yet. this was still the prelude, the first taste, the careful unraveling. but you were close. too close.

and then.

he leaned over you again, lips brushing your ear, his voice hoarse. "can i make love to you?"

you nodded, heart pounding. "yes. please."

every movement after that was reverent, every sigh swallowed into a kiss, every tremble in your limbs steadied by his hands. he helped you out of your panties, gently, and shed his own clothes with a kind of urgency that was quiet, controlled, but full of need. when he settled between your legs, he paused, eyes meeting yours with a question so full of tenderness it made your chest ache.

his hand wrapped around himself, and your breath caught in your throat. he was thick, long—too much. your eyes widened without meaning to, and he noticed, chuckling softly as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“it’s okay,” he whispered, but your voice came out shaky when you murmured. “it won’t fit…” he hushed you gently, his palm stroking down your thigh.

“we’ll go slow,” he promised, though the way his jaw clenched told you even he was struggling to hold back.

the stretch was new, unfamiliar, but he moved slowly, letting you adjust, kissing you through the discomfort, murmuring praises against your lips. he held you like you were fragile, like the world would stop spinning if he hurt you, and when you finally relaxed around him, he moved with a rhythm that spoke of restraint and reverence, yet underneath it burned a fire he could barely contain.

it was gentle, yes, but not shy. it was soft, but not without heat. the way he groaned when your nails scraped down his back, the way he whispered your name like it anchored him—it was everything. his hands never stopped touching you, his mouth never far from yours, and the way he looked at you made you feel like you were the center of the universe.

the pace picked up only slightly, but the angle shifted when he gently maneuvered your body, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before whispering, “turn around for me, baby.” your heart skipped as you obeyed, rolling onto your stomach, your cheek resting against his pillow, flushed and dazed, breath hot against the fabric. he settled behind you, large hands caressing the curve of your hips, his voice low and rough against your ear. “you look so good like this… fuck, i could lose my mind.”

you felt him guide himself back in, slower this time, deeper, and the gasp that left you was nothing short of a whimper, your back arching instinctively. the new position had him hitting that spot—the spot—with a precision that made your eyes roll back, your mouth dropping open against the pillow. “yeonjun—oh my god—” you choked, voice muffled, and he groaned above you, one hand gripping your waist as the other gently turned your face just enough so he could kiss your parted lips. “look at you,” he breathed, panting, watching your blissed-out expression with dark, desperate eyes. “you feel so fucking good—so tight around me… you were made for me, weren’t you?”

your voice came out broken, shaking. “it feels s-so good… i can’t—yeonjun, i—” but you didn’t need to finish. he could feel it. your body clenching around him with every slow, deep thrust. he bent over you, chest pressed to your back, skin to skin, and whispered filth in your ear in between kisses down your spine. “such a good girl,” he rasped, “taking me so well… fuck, i’m close. i can’t—i need to pull out…”

you nodded weakly, barely able to breathe, trembling as he gave one more thrust, then another—and with a strangled moan of your name, he pulled out and spilled his release onto the dip of your lower back, hot and heavy against your skin, dripping down to your ass. he groaned, his forehead against your shoulder, panting hard as he tried to come down from the high. “fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured, voice ragged. “so fucking perfect.”

when he collapsed beside you, he didn’t pull away. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, both of you still catching your breath. the rain still tapped gently against the windows, the room now full of the scent of sweat and skin, of something new, something sacred.

"i’ve wanted you for so long," he murmured against your hair.

"i know," you whispered back, curling into him.

and for once, you didn’t feel cold. you didn’t feel alone. you didn’t feel like someone forced into something by a cruel system. you felt wanted. chosen.

his.

yours.

the morning came too quickly, the sun bleeding gently through the curtains, casting a golden warmth across the tangled sheets. your body still ached in the most delicious ways, and your skin was marked with soft reminders of his mouth, his hands, the way he held you like you were breakable and wanted all at once. you hadn’t said much when you woke. yeonjun had only kissed your forehead, helped you get dressed, and now you were sitting in the waiting room of the ministry’s planning clinic, the air sterile and overly bright.

the doctor, a warm-looking woman with gentle eyes and an enthusiastic tone, greeted you both like old friends. “ah! newlyweds,” she smiled, scanning her clipboard. “i see you’ve finally started your sexual life together. that’s wonderful news!”

your cheeks flamed immediately, and beside you, yeonjun coughed, suddenly fascinated by a poster about prenatal vitamins on the wall. “uh, yeah,” you mumbled, barely able to meet her gaze.

“good, good,” she said brightly, motioning for you to follow her behind a curtain for a quick checkup. “we need to make sure everything’s healthy and progressing normally. it’s still early, but we want to optimize for fertility, yes?”

you nodded, letting her guide you onto the examination table. her hands were professional, but the whole thing still made your stomach twist. you were sore—still a little tender—and she noticed, humming under her breath.

“you’re fine,” she reassured you, adjusting her gloves. “some sensitivity is natural after a first experience. but you’re healthy, everything looks good.” she smiled. “do you track your cycle, darling?”

you nodded slowly, fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “yes… i keep a calendar.”

“perfect. when was your last period?”

you told her, and she did some quick math on her tablet before her smile brightened. “then your most fertile window should be starting in about four days. if you’re trying to conceive—and you should be, of course—it’s best to be active every other day during that period. that increases the chances significantly.”

you wanted to sink into the floor. “o-oh.”

“don’t be shy. this is natural.” she patted your knee, then stood. “you’re young and healthy. your compatibility score is ideal. You just need to be consistent now. and relaxed. it should be something enjoyable.”

you weren’t sure what your face looked like when you stepped out, but yeonjun blinked and stood instantly. the doctor gave him a little wink and whispered something about keeping the environment fun, and you could practically feel the tension coil between your ribs as you exited the building together.

the ride home was quiet for a while. the hum of the engine, the soft buzz of traffic, the way your thighs were pressed together beneath your dress. he tapped the wheel with his fingers, sneaking glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

finally, you exhaled. “she said i’m entering my fertile window soon.”

his hands stilled on the steering wheel.

“in four days,” you added, your voice too high, too soft.

“oh.”

another silence.

“and she said we should—uh—every other day. during that window. for higher chances.”

“right.” he adjusted his grip again. “makes sense.”

but neither of you looked at each other. because the thing was, last night hadn’t felt like a scheduled duty. it hadn’t felt like a requirement, or a step in a plan designed by the state. it had felt messy, desperate, slow, sweet, and hungry. it had felt human.

and now the idea of doing it again, like you were just checking off boxes on a clinical list, felt… weird.

“does it feel weird?” you blurted, staring out the window.

yeonjun looked at you, startled. “what?”

“this. talking about it. like it’s a chore or something. when last night—” you trailed off, cheeks heating.

he nodded slowly. “it feels weird because it wasn’t just about the system. it was… about us.” his voice was quiet, unsure, but honest.

you twisted your fingers in your lap, the weight of his words settling between your thighs like the lingering ache from last night. you didn’t know how to act now—how to go from that kind of vulnerability to pretending you were just following instructions.

“i want to do it again,” you admitted, so softly it could’ve been mistaken for a breath. “but not because of the calendar. because… i liked how it felt. with you.”

his knuckles tightened on the wheel, his jaw clenching as he looked at you again. something in his eyes flickered—warm, molten, restrained. “good,” he said roughly. “because i haven’t stopped thinking about it since i woke up.”

your breath caught.

the red light ahead turned green, but neither of you were breathing normally anymore.

this wasn’t just about reproduction.

not anymore.

and neither of you knew how to navigate that yet—but the thought of exploring it again?

set your blood on fire.

you didn’t even make it past the front door.

as soon as it clicked shut behind you, he turned to you like something had snapped loose inside him—like the silence in the car, the weight of what had been said at the clinic, the image of you squirming in your seat all flushed and embarrassed, had pushed him past the edge. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in with a force that made your breath stutter, his lips crashing into yours with none of the hesitation from the night before. it was need—pure, undiluted need—and you melted into it like you’d been waiting all day.

your back hit the wall, your fingers clawing at the hem of his shirt, dragging it up over his abs while he kissed you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. his hands found your thighs, lifted you slightly, pressing your hips together in a rhythm already too hungry for the softness of conversation.

you moaned into his mouth, and that was it—he growled low in his throat, carrying you the few messy steps to the living room, collapsing with you onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and breathless gasps. you straddled him instinctively, the dress you wore bunching at your hips, and the way you ground down against him made him curse under his breath, hands tightening on your waist.

"fuck, baby, you're driving me insane," he muttered, kissing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, dragging the straps of your dress off your shoulders as his thumbs traced soft, dizzying circles into your skin.

"then do something about it," you whispered, breathless, rocking your hips again just to feel him buck up into you, so hard already it made your mouth go dry.

he didn't need more encouragement.

he kissed down your chest, taking his time, pulling down the top of your dress to reveal more skin, his mouth hot and greedy as he licked and sucked at your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipple until you were gasping his name. his fingers pushed the fabric higher, baring your panties and the damp patch growing darker by the second, and he groaned, burying his face between your thighs like he needed to taste you just to stay sane.

you cried out, your hands tangled in his hair, legs shaking as his tongue worked slow, devastating circles against your clit, sucking gently, teasing you with the edge of release only to pull away. “so wet for me already,” he whispered, voice thick, lips glistening. “you’ve been thinking about this since the car, haven’t you?”

you nodded, eyes fluttering shut, and he rewarded you by sucking harder, his fingers slipping inside to stretch you just right, his other hand holding your hips down while you rode the edge again and again until you whimpered, begging, thighs trembling.

“please, yeonjun… i need you, now.”

he didn’t make you ask twice.

he pulled you onto his lap again, kissing you deep, letting you taste yourself on his lips. and then he stood, shifting you onto the couch, turning your body gently, hands guiding your knees onto the cushions, your chest pressed to the armrest, your ass up for him—offered, exposed, throbbing.

"you’re so fucking perfect like this," he whispered, one hand sliding up your spine, the other gripping your hip as he positioned himself behind you, dragging the tip of his cock along your slit, teasing, wet and hot.

you whimpered, pushing back slightly, and when he slid in, inch by inch, you gasped—eyes rolling back, the stretch sharp and addictive all over again.

“fuck, you feel even tighter like this,” he groaned, sinking in all the way until your ass met his hips. “you’re gonna ruin me.”

he started to move slowly, the position letting him hit deeper, every thrust punching little moans from your lips. the slap of skin against skin echoed through the room, his hands gripping your waist, your thighs, your hair. and still, he kissed your spine, leaned over you, whispered filth against your neck.

“you like this, baby? you like being fucked like this?”

“yes—yes, fuck, yeonjun—it feels so good—”

he reached around, rubbed slow circles against your clit as he fucked into you deeper, faster, making you cry out into the pillow, your body arching under him, thighs shaking again.

"let me see your face," he panted, one hand turning your head slightly so he could kiss you, so he could see your expression—your flushed cheeks, your lips parted, eyes unfocused.

“you’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he growled. “you’re gonna make me come just looking at you.”

you felt it building again, heat coiling low in your belly, your body tightening, trembling, your moans turning desperate as he kept you right on the edge, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

“yeonjun—i’m gonna—”

“me too—fuck—i need to pull out—”

but you reached back, grabbing his hand, voice shaking. “don’t. please. come inside.”

he choked on a moan, hips stuttering, and then he was spilling into you with a groan so deep it made your toes curl, holding you tight as he filled you completely, shaking from the force of it. your own climax hit just seconds later, white-hot and blinding, and you collapsed onto the couch, boneless, his body draped over yours, both of you gasping for air.

his come dripped slowly down your thighs, warmth spreading between them, and he didn’t move—just pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder, your back, your spine, whispering your name like it was the only word he knew.

neither of you said anything for a long time.

but you both knew.

there was no going back.

the following days slipped into a blur of aching need and restless nights. you both tried to keep the doctor’s advice in mind, to space out your moments, to give your bodies time to recover, but desire doesn’t listen to calendars or rules. every morning, before you left for university, you found yourselves tangled together, breathless and desperate, fingers tracing familiar curves as if memorizing every inch again and again. afternoons after classes weren’t any different; the moment you closed the door behind you, yeonjun’s hands were already on your waist, pulling you close, his lips claiming yours with the same fierce hunger that never dulled.

the days were a patchwork of stolen touches and whispered promises, of quick, heated moments before rushing to your part-time jobs—him with the university’s cultural center, tutoring students in language and literature, and you at a small café nearby, pouring coffee and smiling through the haze of exhaustion and longing. you came home exhausted but your body still hummed with anticipation, the ache of missing him settling low and deep, urging you back into his arms. your skin grew sensitive, your senses sharper; even the smallest brush of fingers sparked a fire beneath your skin.

and every time he pulled you close, you let him come inside you—every time—forgetting the cautious rhythm the doctor had suggested, letting your bodies rewrite the rules in the heat of the moment. the cool logic of planning was swallowed whole by your hunger, your need to be closer, to feel him deeper, to lose yourselves entirely in the mess and sweetness of this forbidden, stolen intimacy.

sometimes you’d catch yourself wondering if the doctor would be surprised—or scandalized—to know how little control you really had, how much your hearts raced and how your bodies begged for more. but in those moments, all that mattered was yeonjun’s warm breath against your neck, the way his hands shaped you like a secret only he was meant to know, and the way your own voice trembled when you whispered his name.

it was messy, it was frantic, but it was yours. and for the first time since everything began, it felt like freedom.

you were wiping down the counter when one of your coworkers, a woman named hana, leaned over with a gentle smile. she was older than you, maybe 35, and had a quiet confidence about her that made people listen. she lowered her voice just a little, as if sharing a secret.

“you know, i was assigned a husband too. i thought it would be awful, honestly. i was scared. but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. at first, i wasn’t sure if i could love him, or if he even cared. but slowly, i saw who he really was. and now, i’m so happy. we have two kids, and we’re thinking about a third. it’s scary, getting older, but i go to family planning a lot, trying to make sure it’s possible. the government even recognized me for wanting to keep repopulating. it’s strange, isn’t it? how these arrangements can lead to something real.”

you nodded, the thought settling deep inside your chest. could yeonjun and you be like that someday? sure, you cared for him. he was your husband, your partner in this harsh world. you pictured mornings waking up next to him, the soft light catching his face, the two of you building a life, maybe even raising children together. but love — real love? you had never felt it before, not like this. the feeling was foreign, like a story you’d read but never lived. still, yeonjun was everything to you, and that was enough for now.

later that day, when your shift ended, yeonjun was waiting by the door like always, leaning casually against his car. you slipped inside and immediately started talking about your day, the small victories, the tiring moments. he listened, eyes bright, then shared his own stories, laughter in his voice. the rhythm of your lives syncing quietly, comfortably.

and then, on a quiet street, just as the light ahead turned red, you suddenly blurted out, “do you love me?”

the car jerked slightly as yeonjun slammed on the brakes, both of you moving forward with the momentum. the question hung between you, heavy and unexpected.

he was silent for a moment, gaze fixed on the road ahead, and you could almost see the weight of the thought pressing on him. love was a strange word, loaded with promises and fears. but then his eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, steady and sure.

“i do,” he said slowly, voice low but certain. “maybe not like the stories you hear — wild and all-consuming — but i love you. from the moment i saw you, from that first kiss in the storm, from every day since. every laugh, every touch, every quiet moment. it’s real. and it will only grow.”

your heart fluttered in a way that was both new and familiar, and when the light turned green, he eased forward, hands gripping the wheel a little tighter.

back at the apartment, the world outside disappeared as yeonjun pulled you close. the night was gentle but full of fire, his hands exploring with a tenderness that spoke of trust and deep desire. lips brushed your skin with reverence, soft whispers mingling with quiet moans. you traced the curve of his neck, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. every touch was a promise, every kiss a new discovery.

he took his time, patient and caring, making sure you felt cherished, safe. the moments stretched between you, slow and delicious, as if the world had paused just for this — for the two of you, tangled in sheets and warmth, sharing something sacred.

and as you finally melted into him, the love he had spoken of filled the space between your bodies, unspoken but undeniable.

“congratulations,” the doctor said, her voice warm, glowing even, as if she had just handed you the entire sky. “you’re pregnant.”

the world stilled.

you blinked, lips parting, heartbeat stuttering in your chest. yeonjun, who had just stepped inside the room after waiting anxiously outside, froze beside you. his eyes darted from your stunned face to the doctor and back again, like he was trying to make sure he’d heard correctly.

“what?” you breathed, voice barely there.

the doctor smiled, gentle and knowing, like this was her favorite kind of moment to deliver. “you’re about six weeks along. everything looks good so far. the symptoms you’ve been experiencing — the nausea, the cravings, the mood swings — they all point to a healthy early pregnancy. we’ll begin prenatal care from today.”

you felt yeonjun’s fingers slip into yours, holding tight, like he needed to anchor himself. like you were both floating. he didn’t say anything right away — his throat worked around words he couldn’t seem to find — but his hand trembled slightly in yours.

the tears came slowly, not from fear or sadness, but from something else entirely. wonder. disbelief. awe.

a baby.

your baby.

with him.

“i…” you started, then shook your head with a small, breathless laugh. “i thought it was just stress. i didn’t want to hope.”

“and yet, here we are,” the doctor said kindly. “your next steps will be regular checkups, nutrition monitoring, and continued intimacy when you feel comfortable. you’re doing great already.”

you could hardly focus after that — her voice faded to a background hum as your eyes lifted to meet yeonjun’s. he was already looking at you, completely undone. his gaze was soft, watery, reverent. like you were something holy.

he squeezed your hand. “we’re going to be parents,” he whispered, like saying it out loud would make it real.

and it did.

you nodded, blinking away fresh tears. “we’re going to be a family.”

the drive home was quiet, but not empty. yeonjun kept stealing glances at you at every stoplight, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real — like he couldn’t believe the little life beginning inside you was real. his hand never left yours on the console between you, thumb tracing absent-minded circles over your knuckles.

when you stepped into the apartment, he didn’t let go. he guided you gently to the couch, like you might break if he wasn’t careful. and then he was kneeling in front of you, both hands now on your stomach, even though there was nothing visible yet — just warmth. just possibility.

“thank you,” he whispered. “for this. for you. for everything.”

you touched his hair, carding your fingers through the soft strands, heart swelling. “i didn’t do this alone, junnie.”

he leaned forward, lips brushing your still-flat belly, and then rested his forehead there, breathing slow and deep. “i’m gonna do everything i can to be good to you. to them. we didn’t choose this world, but i’ll choose you every day in it.”

you’d never felt more seen. more loved.

later that night, he held you closer than ever in bed, your back to his chest, one hand cradling your stomach, the other tangled with yours. the rain tapped gently against the window again, just like it had the night everything between you shifted.

and now it had shifted again.

you weren’t just husband and wife anymore.

you were parents.

you were a beginning.

and wrapped in his arms, with his heartbeat pressed against your spine, you let yourself dream — not of what the government wanted, not of duty or numbers, but of soft mornings and tiny fingers, of lullabies and laughter echoing through the walls.

of a future you hadn’t dared imagine.

but now, it was here.

growing inside you.

growing between you.

and it was love.

the apartment smelled of cake and laughter. pink balloons were tied to every chair, streamers hung slightly lopsided from the ceiling, and tiny frosting handprints decorated the corners of the tablecloth. your baby girl — chaeyeon — had turned one.

she was currently asleep in your arms, a little drool soaking into your blouse, her tiny chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. you'd never seen her smile so much in one day, or so determined to wobble around on her chubby legs while everyone clapped for her.

your parents had cried. yeonjun’s mother had brought enough food to feed an entire village. your brother had looked absolutely horrified when asked to hold chaeyeon and had instead stood frozen like she was made of glass. yeonjun’s older brothers had been more relaxed — juggling their own kids, swapping parenting tips with you and yeonjun, their wives giggling over how much yeonjun had softened in just a year.

it was a blur of love. of family. of a happiness you never expected from a life that had once felt forced upon you.

now it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

when the door closed behind the last guest, you let out a long breath and leaned against it. yeonjun was on his knees collecting bits of wrapping paper and cupcake crumbs, his sleeves rolled up and his hair a bit messy from carrying hana all afternoon.

“i think i have frosting in places i didn’t know were possible,” he muttered.

you giggled and padded over, gently placing a hand on his head. “she’s finally asleep. like… deep asleep. miracle of miracles.”

he looked up at you and smiled, slow and soft. “we survived our first birthday party.”

“barely.”

you both laughed, exhausted but giddy, and after tidying up the last of the chaos, you shuffled into your shared bedroom — the one that now held a rocking chair, a baby monitor, and the scent of lavender oil and baby lotion.

you sat on the bed, back against the headboard, and looked at yeonjun as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside. his skin glowed faintly from the sweat of the day, and his eyes were crinkled with something tender when he looked at you.

“hard to believe we’ve made it here,” you murmured.

“i know.” he crawled onto the bed beside you, resting his head against your shoulder. “long time ago we were just trying to figure out how to be in the same room without losing our minds.”

“or jumping each other.”

he snorted, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “that too.”

you fell quiet for a moment, fingers brushing through his hair. “when they told me we were being assigned… i hated it. the system felt so cruel. mechanical. like love didn’t matter.”

“me too,” he admitted, voice low. “i kept wondering who you’d be. if you’d hate me. if i’d hate you.”

“and now… i can’t imagine waking up without you next to me.” you turned your face into his hair, breathing him in. “you’ve become everything.”

he lifted his head, eyes dark with something more than just love. “you gave me a family. you gave me her.”

“we gave her to each other,” you whispered, lips brushing his.

he kissed you then — slow, deep, familiar in a way that made your toes curl. and when he pulled back, eyes half-lidded, he murmured, “i need you.”

“then take me,” you breathed.

you barely finished speaking before he was on you, lips claiming yours again, more urgent this time, tongue teasing, his hands slipping beneath your shirt to cup your breasts. you gasped, arching into his touch as he rolled a thumb over your nipple.

“fuck, i love how sensitive you still are,” he muttered against your neck, biting softly before soothing the skin with kisses. “you get wet the second i touch you, don’t you?”

you nodded, already trembling as he dragged your panties down your thighs, fingers grazing your slick folds. “you make me like this… only you.”

he groaned, dipping two fingers inside you, curling them just right, his thumb circling your clit until your hips were grinding against his hand.

“look at you,” he said, voice rough, “needy little wife. always so eager for me. i could fuck you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough, would it?”

“never enough,” you panted, nails digging into his shoulders. “please, junnie—”

he flipped you onto your stomach, lifting your hips until you were on all fours, head turned into the pillow. “you know what this does to me, seeing you like this,” he growled, running the head of his cock through your folds before slowly pushing in. “fuck, still so tight for me.”

you moaned, face burying into the pillow as he filled you to the hilt, rocking his hips with slow, brutal precision. his hands gripped your waist, pulling you back to meet each thrust, hitting that perfect spot that made your vision blur.

“tell me how good i make you feel,” he said through gritted teeth, fucking you deeper.

“so good—oh god, junnie—right there,” you whimpered. “you fuck me like you own me.”

“because i do,” he hissed. “you’re mine. every inch. every breath. and this pussy? fuck—this was made for me.”

your cries were muffled into the pillow, tears prickling at your eyes from the pleasure building impossibly fast. he bent over you, pressing kisses to your back, your shoulder, your neck, never stopping his rhythm.

“gonna come, baby?” he whispered in your ear. “cream on my cock like you always do?”

you nodded desperately, clenching around him, your orgasm ripping through you with a strangled moan.

he followed right after, cursing low and dark, emptying himself inside you with a final thrust. “fuck—gonna fill you up again. maybe give chaeyeon a little sibling.”

you both collapsed onto the bed, boneless and breathless, his arms wrapping tight around you from behind.

and in that moment, as the warmth of him settled over your back and your heartbeat steadied with his, you smiled.

because this was the life you never asked for — and yet, it was everything.

and now, there was no one else you’d rather be loved by.

[ficscollection]

☆ Captive Royalty !

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

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

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

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

word count: 4.6k

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

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

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

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

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

Beomgyu stares blankly, then merely shrugs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Ah.”

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

The prince snorts. “Will they?”

You frown. “…Yes?”

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

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

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

You stare at him. “You’re joking.”

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

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

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

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

“Prince Beomgyu!” He beams, grinning widely, looking proud and smug, his expression entirely too relaxed for someone tied to a chair in a stranger’s cottage.

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

It had been days.

And absolutely nothing.

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

Just pure silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t exactly help myself, can I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head at the prince, sighing.

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

You were very entertained, the tea you make, since it seems to be one of the only things he likes, and these conversations weirdly happening regularly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And gods, was he pretty.

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

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

Your kidnapping had been, by all accounts, a complete and utter failure. It had not been the most fearsome hostage situation either, your intimidation tactics quite lacklustre, no violence, no torturing, and no damn money.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?” You slowly flick some of the locks of his soft hair out his face with the sharp tip of the dagger, his breath catching in his throat at that, eyes slightly widening. Then you trace the blade leisurely along his cheek, the prince shivering at the feeling of the steel on his skin. “How are you so sure?” Beomgyu swallows, breath hitching almost looking scared for a second, but then he smirks, thrilled, eyes never leaving yours and yours never leaving his. The two of you locked in a stare now, the eye contact, quite intense.

“You like me.” Beomgyu simply grins impossibly wider.

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

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

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

Where on earth does he gain this confidence from?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— His Majesty, the King.

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

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

Beomgyu blinks, “No?”

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

Beomgyu’s eyes widen, and then stars. His eyes practically lighting up, sparkling, you could practically see his tail wagging if he had one.

You both start giggling like idiots.

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

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

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

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

[ficscollection]

I was thinking about arranged married with Taehyun, he doesnt love you but still feels jealous when you're hanging out with your guy friend? 👀

the weight of silk and silence

summary: you married him for business, not love. taehyun didn’t want a wife, and you didn’t ask for his heart. but when an old flame reappears and stirs forgotten feelings in you, taehyun begins to see you in ways he never allowed himself to before.

pairing: husband!taehyun x wife!reader

genre: arranged marriage au, angst, slowburn, eventual smut

warnings: explicit content (at the end), virgin!reader, possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional tension, marriage without love, slowburn pacing, soft domination.

wc: 7,5k

notes: omg anon i LOVED that idea, it’s so heartbreaking but delicious by the end 😭 i really hope you like it — taehyun fits this trope so well, and like… we all know he’d be insanely jealous LMAO 🖤

the first time you ever held kang taehyun’s hand was in front of five hundred guests, under a crystal chandelier that cost more than your first car.

it was your wedding day.

you had met him a handful of times before — quick, shallow meetings at galas and charity events, where your parents would whisper his name in your ear like a warning. taehyun, heir to a massive corporation. taehyun, quiet and serious. taehyun, the boy who would be your husband.

and yet, in all those encounters, he never truly looked at you. not in the way a man looks at a woman he wants. you were background noise to him. a silhouette in silk. polite smiles, brief nods, nothing more.

until the contract was signed.

it was a merger more than a marriage — a binding of legacies, not hearts. your father said it was an honor. your mother cried while helping you into your wedding dress, whispering how lucky you were to marry someone with such influence, such presence. you didn't feel lucky.

your gown was custom-made, flown in from paris. long-sleeved and ivory, with delicate lace crawling up your collarbones, and a train so long it took three women to carry it down the aisle. you looked like a dream — regal, immaculate, almost untouchable. even your makeup was soft and flawless, like you were born to be admired from a distance.

when you reached the altar, taehyun was already waiting. his eyes swept over you with the indifference of a man examining a sculpture in a gallery — beautiful, yes. admirable, even. but not his. not something he reached for. he looked expensive in his suit. tall, composed, painfully handsome. but there was no joy on his face. no warmth in the way he took your hand.

when he took your hand, it was because the priest told him to.

his palm was cold. steady. his grip was neither too firm nor too soft. you imagined it was the same way he signed business contracts, with precision and detachment.

you told yourself you didn’t need warmth. this wasn’t about love. it never was.

and yet it hurt, in some small, stupid way.

he kissed your cheek when the priest told him to. his lips brushed your skin, and you felt nothing. not butterflies, not electricity. just the cold, aching confirmation of what you already knew: taehyun didn’t love you. and he didn’t want to.

the wedding made headlines. a spectacle of elegance and power. articles praised the "fairytale union" and posted blurry photos of taehyun helping you into the car, his hand on your back like a gentleman. what they didn’t know was that by the time you arrived at the private estate where you’d live together, he was already walking ahead of you, phone in hand, voice low and disinterested.

“you’ll have the west wing,” he said. “second floor. we won’t share a room — i assume that’s fine”

you nodded. your veil was still pinned in your hair, your earrings heavy on your ears.

he didn’t say goodnight. he didn’t ask how you felt. he simply turned and disappeared into his study, closing the door behind him with finality.

his room was on the opposite side of the house.

you didn’t see much of each other after that. in the mornings, you passed him in the dining room — his sleeves rolled up, eyes glued to his laptop as he sipped black coffee. sometimes he nodded at you. sometimes he didn’t.

when he spoke, it was brief. emotionless. professional.

"you’ll need to be at the choi event next week."

"wear something navy. it matches the branding."

"your lipstick was smudged last time. be more careful."

not cruel. not kind. just cold.

still, you played your part. at every family function, every business dinner, you laced your arm around his like the doting wife you were supposed to be. taehyun would place his hand on your lower back, lean in close enough to whisper scripted compliments in your ear, and smile when cameras flashed. you looked like a couple in love — poised, elegant, connected.

but at night, you would close the door to your room and cry silently into a pillow that smelled like perfume and loneliness.

he never asked if you were happy. you never offered to lie.

you had been married to kang taehyun for a year.

twelve months of empty rooms and empty words. of silent mornings, separate beds, and dinner parties where you pretended to love a man who barely remembered how to say your name without flattening it.

your marriage was the kind that looked good in photographs. carefully curated images of a successful union — him in tailored suits, you in designer gowns. your hands always touching, your eyes always soft. a perfect illusion.

but once the flashbulbs faded and the doors closed, so did the performance.

you lived in a mansion, but it never felt like a home. it was quiet in a way that echoed. too many walls, too many shadows. your bedroom was at the far end of the hall, separated by sleek marble floors and silence. taehyun’s was opposite yours, and he never crossed that threshold. not even once.

some nights, you stood by the door and waited. hoping. other nights, you stopped hoping altogether.

he wasn't cruel — not in the way that left bruises or sharp words. his coldness was quieter than that. it was in the way he never asked if you were okay. in the way he answered you with sighs instead of sentences. in how he looked past you at breakfast, eyes on his phone, fingers tapping away at stock reports and news articles, as if you were part of the background — as if your presence was nothing more than ambient noise.

“you need to be ready by seven,” he’d say without looking up.

“don’t wear white. it clashes with the decor.”

and you would nod. always nod. because what else was there to do?

you played the part. you smiled when your in-laws visited. you stood beside him at every event with your hand wrapped gently around his arm, your voice sweet, your gaze rehearsed. when his hand slid onto the small of your back for the cameras, you leaned into the touch as if it belonged there.

but the second you were alone, the warmth disappeared.

you would walk down opposite corridors, into opposite beds, and try to fall asleep beside the ache of being unwanted.

you never asked him why. never begged for attention or tenderness. you had learned, from a very young age, that feelings were fragile, disposable things — and that love had no place in contracts.

your marriage was not a love story. it was a transaction sealed with gold and paper, a deal between two families who saw you as an extension of their legacy. you were beautiful, accomplished, poised — a perfect bride. and taehyun was a perfect son. loyal, brilliant, emotionally vacant. the kind of man who could run an empire and feel nothing when he held your hand.

and you —

you were so good at pretending that it almost felt real sometimes.

until you saw lee heesung again.

the invitation arrived embossed in gold — another affair hosted by the choi family, all shimmer and status. you wore emerald silk that night, low-backed and elegant, with your hair twisted up and pinned with mother-of-pearl. taehyun wore black, as always, his presence severe and pristine beside you.

he didn’t compliment your dress.

you didn’t expect him to.

the ballroom was all crystal and candlelight. strings played softly beneath the murmur of conversation, and champagne flutes clinked like bells. you smiled when expected, danced twice with taehyun in front of curious eyes, then slipped away toward the edge of the room for air.

and that’s when you heard it.

“y/n?”

you turned at the sound of your name — tentative, soft, almost disbelieving.

he was standing near the edge of the terrace, champagne glass forgotten in his hand, dressed in a dark suit that clung to his frame more confidently than it had when you last saw him. his face was older now — sharper jaw, deeper eyes — but the smile… the smile was exactly the same.

“heesung?” your voice was breathless. like it didn’t belong to you.

he stepped forward slowly, as if afraid you might vanish if he moved too quickly. “i almost didn’t recognize you. you—” he laughed under his breath, eyes roaming your face with a mix of awe and disbelief. “you’ve grown up.”

you blinked, unsure whether to laugh or cry. “so did you.”

it had been ten years. ten whole years since he left — packed off to europe for school, his family’s goodbye rushed and quiet. you had cried for two nights straight, then spent years pretending you hadn’t. and now here he was, in the middle of a gala, as if nothing had changed.

except everything had.

you were married now. in name, at least.

but still, when he smiled at you — wide and warm and genuine — something fluttered in your chest you hadn’t felt in years.

“you look incredible,” he said, eyes dancing. “i mean, not just the dress. you— i don’t know, you shine. always did.”

you lowered your gaze, cheeks warm. “you’re still a flatterer.”

“only when it’s true.”

you heard footsteps behind you before you could reply.

“taehyun,” you said quickly, straightening. “this is… lee heesung. an old friend.”

taehyun’s eyes moved from you to heesung in a single sweep. his face didn’t change, but something in his posture did — his jaw just a bit tighter, his stare a little too direct.

“taehyun,” heesung offered his hand, unbothered. “pleasure to meet you. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

taehyun shook his hand. short. firm. “have you?”

“well,” heesung chuckled, glancing at you, “maybe not a lot. but enough.”

you felt taehyun’s hand settle on your lower back — a gentle but deliberate touch, the kind he only ever used in public. you could feel the tension in his fingers, though. not affection. not comfort. something else.

you smiled politely, masking the strange electricity crackling between them. “heesung was my neighbor growing up. we were… close.”

“very close,” heesung added, too casually.

taehyun said nothing. but his hand lingered longer than usual.

his tone was pleasant. perfectly civil. but his fingers pressed slightly harder against your waist, and when you looked up at him, his jaw was clenched just enough to betray it.

and for the first time in a year of cold silences and empty gazes, kang taehyun looked... bothered.

you met heesung again three days later. this time, alone.

you told yourself it was just a reunion. a friendly catch-up. nothing more.

but he made you laugh in ways you hadn’t in years. he remembered everything — the way you used to hate thunderstorms, the songs you’d sing under your breath, the stupid nickname he gave you for always carrying too many books. he looked at you like you mattered. like you were more than a name in someone else’s contract.

you didn’t tell taehyun. and he didn’t ask.

you met again the next week. and the one after that. coffee turned to lunch, lunch turned to long walks through hidden parts of the city, where no one knew your last name. you smiled wider. your skin glowed. you started wearing the perfume you liked, not the one his mother approved. you began laughing out loud, not just behind a polite hand. and people noticed.

especially him.

the first time taehyun said something, you had just come back from lunch. your hair was windswept. your phone buzzed with a new message from heesung: i miss talking to you already.

taehyun was standing in the kitchen, sipping wine like always. he looked at you for a long moment before saying, “you’re seeing him again.”

you froze. “he’s my friend.”

his stare didn’t waver. “and i’m your husband.”

the silence was suffocating. you didn’t reply. you didn’t need to.

“don’t be careless,” he added after a pause. “people notice.”

but you couldn’t stop. because every time heesung smiled at you, you remembered what it felt like to be loved — or at least wanted. and every time taehyun’s eyes darkened across the room, you felt something crack open between you, something ugly and raw and dangerous.

and it was only a matter of time before it spilled.

you weren’t supposed to see heesung again.

you told yourself that the moment you stepped out of the café that night — that it was enough. enough catching up, enough smiling too much, enough letting your heart remember what it felt like to be looked at like you were something bright. but the next day, he texted. just a simple “remember the old bookstore by the river?” and without thinking, you replied. you remembered everything.

you met there the following sunday. it was quiet, tucked away behind overgrown ivy and the whisper of autumn wind. the inside still smelled like sun-warmed paper, and heesung still laughed like you were the most interesting story on the shelf. you wandered between aisles, letting your fingers trail along spines, and for a little while, it felt like you’d slipped through time — like nothing had changed. like you weren’t twenty-five and married. like your last name wasn’t kang.

he took you to lunch after, somewhere casual, small, a place you never would’ve stepped into with taehyun. there were no cameras, no eyes, no pressure to sit up straighter or speak more delicately. you ate slowly, letting the warmth of soup melt the cold that had crept into your bones over the last year. heesung talked about his travels, the people he met, the music he was trying to write. and when he asked about you, really asked — what do you like now? what makes you happy? — your throat felt tight.

you didn’t know how to answer. not honestly.

later, walking by the riverbank, you laughed when he called you “bookworm” again. you shoved his shoulder lightly and he caught your hand — fingers threading through yours like it was still summer and you were still fifteen.

and just for a moment, it was too easy to pretend.

but as the warmth of his skin soaked into yours, your stomach twisted. not with guilt, not yet. something more dangerous — doubt. was this what you were missing?

“heesung,” you said softly, eyes still on the water. “do you ever think we were supposed to be something?”

he was quiet for a beat. then, “i thought about you more than i should have.”

your heart thudded — but it wasn’t joy. it was grief.

you pulled your hand back gently, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself. “i used to think that too,” you whispered. “but that version of me… the one who wrote your name in the margins of her notebooks and cried when you left… she doesn’t exist anymore.”

he didn’t argue. he just nodded, like he understood.

you parted ways with a hug. longer than necessary, but not intimate. not improper. just... sad.

and when you stepped into the house that night, the silence hit harder than ever. no message from taehyun. no note. no light left on. only the familiar echo of emptiness.

you wandered into the kitchen, fingers still cold. you didn’t expect to see him standing by the window.

he turned, startled for a split second — rare for him — before composing himself.

“you’re late.”

“i went out,” you answered, setting your purse down. “with a friend.”

he didn’t respond. just stared at you like he was searching for something beneath your skin.

you avoided his gaze. “do you want tea?”

“no.”

you nodded, stepping past him. the silence stretched, heavy and full of things unsaid.

“you look different,” he said quietly.

you froze. “different how?”

he hesitated. “lighter.”

you didn’t know what to say. so you didn’t say anything at all.

when you finally made it to your bedroom, you sat on the edge of your bed, breath shallow. you thought about heesung’s smile, the sound of his laugh, the way he made you feel like your teenage self again — untouched by the cold calculations of your family, unburdened by the weight of your name. but you also thought of taehyun — the tension in his jaw tonight, the way his voice had shifted ever so slightly when he said you look different.

and that’s when you realized the truth.

you liked heesung, yes. you liked what he represented. freedom. comfort. the girl you used to be. but taehyun? he wasn’t the boy of your past — he was the man in your present. and despite his silence, his coldness, the way he looked right through you some days... you wanted him.

you wanted him to see you. want you. need you.

and that hurt more than anything.

because you were starting to realize... maybe you already loved him.

the room was all golden light and champagne — delicate strings of music trailing through crystal chandeliers, waiters gliding past with silver trays, women in gowns that shimmered like moonlight.

you stood near the center of it all, wrapped in a dress the color of soft wine. off-the-shoulder silk, cinched waist, a slit that whispered against your leg when you moved. your hair was swept to one side, exposing the slope of your neck. taehyun hadn’t said a word when he saw you leave your room, but his eyes had lingered. too long to be empty. too cold to be warm.

he escorted you, as always, arm linked with yours — not too tight, not too loose. he greeted the right people, nodded at the appropriate times, made you laugh when he needed to keep up appearances. you smiled when the cameras turned. you leaned into him when the board members looked.

but the minute your mutual obligation ended, he released your arm without a word and stepped off to speak with someone from the finance division.

you didn’t follow.

you wandered to the bar instead, thankful for the small reprieve, and that’s when you heard it — your name, light and warm like summer.

“you look like you stepped out of a painting,” heesung said, smiling, holding two glasses of rosé. “guess i’ll have to pretend i belong here.”

you smiled before you could stop yourself. “you look good in a suit.”

“don’t sound so surprised.”

you laughed, taking the glass he offered. his fingers brushed yours — brief, innocent — but still enough to make your heart stutter. you hated how easy it was to feel fifteen again. and you hated that you missed it.

“you didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“i didn’t know,” he shrugged, sipping slowly. “my manager’s friend works with the caterer. said he needed a last-minute hand. i said yes without thinking. figured it’d just be another fancy party where no one would remember my name.”

“you’re wrong,” you said softly.

his eyes flicked to yours. there was something in them — something unspoken. something that a married woman shouldn’t try to read too closely.

“are you here alone?” you asked.

he nodded. “unless you’re counting all the corporate execs who’ve asked me if i play piano.”

you laughed again, this time quieter. “you do.”

“not for them.”

heesung's voice was low, almost teasing. but there was a weight behind it — an ache, maybe, or just the memory of something never lived.

you didn’t notice the man watching you.

kang taehyun stood on the other side of the room, his glass untouched in his hand. he wasn’t smiling. wasn’t even pretending. his gaze was locked on you — on the way your lips curved when heesung leaned in to say something; on how your fingers played idly with the stem of your glass; on the tilt of your head, the brightness in your eyes.

he hadn’t seen you smile like that since before the wedding. maybe never.

he finished his drink in a single swallow.

when he approached, it was silent — sudden. you only noticed him when the air beside you shifted, cool and sharp. he placed a hand on the small of your back, a gesture you were both used to in public, but this time... his palm stayed. firm. possessive.

“everything alright?” his voice was smooth, but there was steel underneath.

you blinked. “yes. taehyun, this is—”

“lee heesung,” he cut in flatly, gaze unwavering. “we met.”

heesung offered a polite smile. “good to see you again.”

taehyun nodded, but didn’t return it.

“your wife was just telling me how beautiful the venue is,” heesung continued, tone light. “honestly, this place looks like something out of a dream.”

taehyun’s fingers pressed a little deeper into your back. “she has good taste.”

you froze for a second — not at the words, but the way he said them. not like a compliment. like a reminder.

the silence stretched.

“i should get back to the kitchen,” heesung said eventually, glancing at you. “don’t disappear too fast.”

you nodded. “i won’t.”

he walked away.

taehyun didn’t move his hand.

“you’re close,” he said, eyes still on the crowd.

“we’re old friends.”

“looked like more than that.”

you turned to him, brows drawing together. “why does it matter?”

he didn’t answer. his jaw tightened.

you exhaled slowly, pulling your arm from his and stepping half a pace away. “you don’t get to be jealous, taehyun.”

his eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unreadable. “who said i was?”

you didn’t reply.

neither did he.

but when you walked ahead, you felt it — the burn of his stare against your back. the heat in the silence.

the car ride home had been silent.

not the usual quiet — the polite, professional kind that hovered between you like a well-dressed wall. this one buzzed. like static. like heat trapped under skin. taehyun sat beside you, eyes fixed on the dark city flashing past the window, one leg crossed neatly over the other, jaw locked so tight you could hear it click when he swallowed.

you didn’t speak. neither did he.

not until the front door of your shared home closed behind you with a soft, final sound.

then his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“do you think it’s appropriate to smile like that in front of the board?”

you turned, slowly, heels clicking against the polished marble. “excuse me?”

“with lee heesung,” he said, dropping his watch onto the side table without looking at you. “you looked like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

you laughed, sharp and humorless. “so you were watching.”

he turned to you finally, his tie half loosened, shirt still perfectly tucked into tailored slacks. he looked angry — but not wild. not loud. just cold. tightly wound. exactly like you’d expect from a man who built walls instead of raising his voice.

“i didn’t have to watch,” he said. “the whole room saw it.”

“saw what? that i was happy for five minutes?”

his expression didn’t change. “you’re married.”

“are we?” your voice rose. not a shout — just enough to cut. “because from where i’m standing, it feels like we’re just two strangers with matching rings.”

he took a slow step forward.

you didn’t move.

“then don’t embarrass me,” he said, quieter now, like it hurt to say it. “not in front of people who matter.”

you stared at him — tall, beautiful, indifferent. you hated how good he looked like this. hated the way his presence still made your skin ache even when his words made you feel disposable.

“i’m sorry,” you said, stepping closer, voice trembling with restraint. “am i supposed to stay quiet and smile at your side like a fucking ornament while you pretend i’m not even there?”

“that was the agreement,” he said flatly.

you blinked.

taehyun flinched.

the silence after that was thick. awful.

you stepped back.

he didn’t stop you.

“you didn’t care before,” you whispered. “why now? why tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. he just looked at you — really looked, for maybe the first time in weeks. and it wasn’t the way he looked at you at galas, or dinners, or in family portraits. it wasn’t performative.

this time, it felt like he couldn’t look away.

“you were mine tonight,” he said finally. “and you forgot that.”

you stared at him.

you didn’t say anything.

but your hands shook a little as you reached up and unclasped your necklace, one jewel at a time. your earrings. your bracelets. everything expensive he’d helped you put on earlier that evening, now coming off piece by piece like armor being stripped away.

you didn’t cry. you didn’t yell. you just walked past him, brushing his shoulder as you left the room.

“don’t worry,” you said over your shoulder, voice like ice. “i’ll remember next time.”

his footsteps followed you down the hallway. unhurried. deliberate.

“you’re not going to pretend this didn’t happen,” he said, voice low, firm.

you paused at the edge of the bedroom. didn’t turn around.

“what do you want from me, taehyun?” your words were a whisper, sharp and tired. “you barely speak to me. you barely look at me. and then the second someone else does—”

“i’m not just someone else.”

“no,” you said bitterly. “you’re my husband. legally. contractually. nothing more.”

that did something to him. you could feel it — the tension shifting, thickening in the space between you like a storm waiting to snap.

his voice came closer. behind you now.

“do you think i haven’t noticed the way you look at me?”

you turned then. slowly. eyes burning.

“what way?”

his jaw clenched. “like you want something from me. like you want me to be someone i’m not.”

your breath caught. not because he was wrong. but because he wasn’t.

“and you,” you hissed, stepping forward now, chest brushing his. “you act like you don’t want me. like this marriage is just a formality. but the second someone else so much as smiles at me, you break.”

he said nothing.

his eyes dropped to your mouth.

then back up.

“tell me i’m wrong,” you demanded.

silence.

“taehyun.”

his hands moved before his mouth did — gripping your arms, not hard, but with purpose. pulling you closer until there was no space left to pretend with. his breath hit your cheek, fast and uneven.

“you’re not wrong,” he said finally.

and god, it burned.

because that was all you had wanted to hear — some crack in his mask, some proof that you weren’t crazy for feeling the pull between you. and now that you had it, it only made everything worse.

“then why do you treat me like this?” you asked, voice barely a breath. “why push me away every single time i try to reach you?”

“let's sleep together,”

the door slammed shut behind you, hard enough to rattle the frame. your heels clicked against the marble floors of your shared home—too loud, too sharp in the silence. you stormed through the living room, toward the master bedroom, your dress dragging behind you in a frustrated blur of expensive silk and lace.

you didn’t even look back.

“you’re not sleeping here tonight,” you said coldly, pushing open the bedroom door and stepping inside. “use one of the guest rooms. i don't care which one.”

taehyun followed you, of course. always the quiet shadow behind your anger, never raising his voice—but tonight was different. his jaw was tight, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them. something was burning under his skin.

he stepped into the room before you could close the door on him. “the hell i’m not.”

you turned to him, chest heaving, tears stinging your eyes though you refused to let them fall. “don’t make a scene, taehyun. i’m not in the mood.”

“you think i give a fuck about your mood right now?” he bit back, stepping closer. “i watched you smile at him like that. laugh with him like that. and then you come home and tell me to sleep somewhere else?”

“we don’t even sleep together, taehyun!” you shouted, finally losing it. “we’ve been married for a year and you still treat me like some damn business contract! so why should you care who i talk to?”

he was in front of you in two long strides. too close.

“because you're mine.”

his voice was low. not yelling. not angry in the way you expected. but full of something darker—possessive, raw.

your breath caught.

“you don’t get to flirt with old friends like you’re single,” he said, crowding you backwards until your spine hit the wall. “you wear my ring. you sleep in my house. you're my fucking wife.”

“in name only,” you spat, but your voice trembled.

his eyes dropped to your lips.

“no,” he said, fingers brushing the edge of your jaw. “not anymore.”

and then he kissed you.

not soft. not slow. it was messy. angry. real.

a year of silence poured into that kiss — the frustration, the jealousy, the ache of sleeping in separate rooms while pretending to be a couple to the world. it wasn’t romantic. it wasn’t pretty. it was honest.

his mouth moved over yours like he was starving. like he hated himself for needing this. needing you.

your robe fell to the floor.

his hands were everywhere — your waist, your back, your thighs. he lifted you without effort, your legs wrapping around his hips as your back hit the nearest wall with a quiet thud. his mouth never left yours.

you gasped when his hands slipped under your silk nightdress. he groaned when he felt you bare and burning beneath it.

and when he whispered your name — hoarse, like a confession — you knew this wasn’t about duty anymore.

this was need. raw, dangerous, undeniable.

this was taehyun, breaking.

for you.

“stop pretending,” he growled against your mouth. “you want this too. don’t you?”

you didn’t answer.

you didn’t have to.

because your body gave you away.

he kissed you again, deeper, pressing his thigh between your legs as he cupped your face with one hand and slid the other down your back. you melted into him, your fists gripping his suit jacket. he pulled back just enough to speak.

“bed,” he ordered.

taehyun’s hands were steady as they moved over you, but there was something in his touch that made your breath catch — as if he was testing the boundaries of something fragile, something new.

your heart raced. you weren’t sure if it was the heat of his touch, the way he kissed you, or the slow realization that everything you had felt for him, all the confusion and desire, was now colliding into something far more real.

his hands traveled down your body, slipping under the hem of your nightdress. when his fingers touched your skin, it was like a spark. you gasped, and he froze for just a moment, before continuing, his fingers sliding up your thigh, almost teasingly slow.

he moved, lips trailing down your neck, sucking gently at the soft skin near your pulse. you arched into him, silently asking for more. the way he touched you, the way he made every inch of your skin burn under his fingers — it made you feel like you were breaking open in the best way possible.

you swallowed, hesitating for only a second.

taehyun’s hands were firm as they spread your legs, gently but with purpose, pulling you closer to him. his lips left your neck to trace down to your collarbone, each kiss a promise, each touch a slow unraveling of control. his breath hitched as he touched you where you needed him most, slipping past the fabric of your panties. you gasped, your body instinctively tensing, but he didn’t stop, didn’t falter. he was careful, tentative even, but the heat in his touch made it clear he wanted this, wanted you, desperately.

then you turned and walked toward it—slow, steps shaky—and sat at the edge.

he followed, kneeling in front of you, his fingers pulling off your heels, one by one, then slowly, reverently dragging his hands up your calves.

“your first time?” he asked, voice softer now. darker. laced with something almost like awe.

you nodded.

“i’ll be gentle,” he said, kissing your inner thigh. “at first.”

he lifted your dress slowly, exposing lace panties soaked through from everything he’d said, everything he’d done. he groaned low when he saw the mess between your thighs.

“look at that,” he muttered. “my pretty wife. dripping for me.”

you gasped as he licked a stripe over the lace, tongue hot and wet and slow. he took his time—kissing, teasing, tasting you through the fabric until you were panting, hips grinding against his mouth without shame.

“taehyun—please—”

“you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice hushed but intense. “so perfect.”

“let me in,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking, as if he was asking for permission, even though he had already claimed you.

“lie back.”

you obeyed.

he climbed over you, dragging the dress up and over your head until you were bare beneath him—your chest rising with every breath, your skin flushed.

he kissed your collarbones, your neck, your breasts—fingers tweaking your nipples, mouth trailing lower. then he was lining himself up, one hand gripping your hip as he kissed you again, deep and dizzying.

“relax,” he whispered against your lips. “i’ve got you.”

you nodded, the tension in your body thick as he carefully, slowly, pressed into you, watching your face the whole time. it hurt at first — the stretch, the unfamiliarity — but he didn’t rush. every movement was deliberate, tender, as if he were trying to make it as gentle as possible, as if he feared breaking you in the process.

your back arched at the stretch, tears welling up in your eyes from the fullness, the ache. he kissed them away.

“fuck,” he muttered. “you’re so fucking tight. like you were made for me.”

your breath hitched, and you held onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as he pushed deeper, his lips finding yours once more. his kiss was hard, almost desperate, like he couldn’t get enough of you. his pace was slow, at first, allowing you to adjust, but the need in his body was impossible to ignore.

“you feel so good, baby. taking me so well. fuck—i can feel you squeezing me.”

but it didn’t stay soft for long.

because once you got used to him—once the sting faded and the pleasure bloomed—taehyun changed.

“this what you needed?” he growled, pounding into you harder, “a reminder that you're married? that you belong to me?”

he gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head, fucking into you harder, deeper. his jaw clenched as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

“mine,” he growled. “you belong to me. this pussy’s mine. not heesung’s. not anyone’s.”

“taehyun—god—”

“say it.”

“yours,” you moaned, breathless. “i’m yours.”

“that’s right,” he hissed. “and i’m gonna fuck you like it.”

he flipped you over before you could think—hands on your hips as he thrust into you from behind, one hand fisting your hair, the other slapping your ass hard enough to leave a mark.

“you like this?” he said, breath hot against your neck. “like getting fucked like a wife should?”

you couldn’t answer—you were too far gone.

he pulled you up against his chest, your back flush to him as he kept fucking into you. his hand moved to your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles until you were shaking again, sobbing from the pleasure.

“you’re gonna come again,” he said, voice rough. “you’re gonna come all over my cock while i fill you up.”

and you did.

your whole body convulsed, a scream torn from your throat as he groaned behind you, emptying inside you with a final, brutal thrust.

he didn’t pull out.

instead, he dragged you back into bed, still inside you, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, your lips.

“again,” he whispered. “we’re not done.”

you were still trembling when he kissed the sweat from your temple, when he pressed his chest against your back and held your hips tightly against his.

he hadn’t pulled out.

you could still feel him inside you—thick and hot and pulsing. the room smelled like sex and perfume and expensive cologne. your skin was burning everywhere he touched you. everywhere he kissed.

taehyun’s hand slid from your hip to your waist, then up to your throat. not squeezing—just resting there. possessive. grounding.

his voice was low, rough against your ear.

“feel that?” he murmured. “still so fucking hard inside you.”

you whimpered, thighs twitching. he groaned in response, hips rolling slowly, deliberately, grinding deeper.

“fuck—taehyun…”

“don’t say his name,” he snapped. “you moan mine. no one else’s.”

his hand tightened just a little around your throat, enough to make your eyes flutter closed, to make your breath catch.

“say it,” he demanded.

“…taehyun.”

“again.”

“taehyun—fuck—please…”

he pulled out then, and you almost cried from the sudden emptiness. but he wasn’t done. not even close.

“on your stomach,” he said.

your limbs obeyed before your brain could catch up—body pliant, aching, desperate.

he spread your legs with his knee, dragged your hips up, and slid back into you with a groan so guttural it echoed through the room. your fists clutched the sheets, knuckles white, back arching at the angle.

this time, he didn’t hold back.

his thrusts were deep, punishing, endless. the bed creaked beneath the force of him. his name spilled from your mouth like a prayer, like a cry for help. but he wasn’t stopping. he wanted to hear it.

he needed to ruin you.

his hand tangled in your hair again, yanking you up until your back hit his chest.

“you think anyone else could fuck you like this?” he hissed. “you think he could make you feel this full? this fucking owned?”

your moan was broken, desperate. “no—taehyun—fuck—only you—”

he bent you forward again, pressing your face into the sheets, his hand gripping your ass as he pounded into you harder, messier.

“that’s right. you belong to me.”

“taehyun—i’m gonna—i’m—”

“come for me. now.”

you shattered beneath him, legs trembling violently as he fucked you through it, not relenting, not even slowing.

“god, baby,” he groaned, losing rhythm, “you’re fucking milking my cock.”

he came deep, with a grunt that sounded more like a growl, his hips still grinding into you, desperate to push every drop inside.

neither of you moved for a long time.

his body collapsed over yours—heavy, solid, grounding. your face was buried in the sheets, lungs barely able to keep up, body boneless beneath his weight.

then, slowly, he pulled out.

you gasped softly at the mess that followed, at the mix of fluids dripping between your thighs, down to your trembling legs. he watched it happen with dark, hungry eyes.

“fuck,” he muttered, thumb dragging through the mess before spreading it back into you. “look at this. took all of me like such a good fucking girl.”

you whimpered, shivering.

taehyun leaned down, kissing your shoulder, your spine, your lower back. then he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you with him, both of you sinking into the sheets, tangled together.

he didn’t speak for a while. neither did you.

then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it:

“don’t ever look at him like that again.”

his voice was low. dangerous.

your eyes fluttered closed, your fingers curling into his chest.

“i won’t,” you whispered.

he kissed your forehead.

“good,” he said. “because you’re mine. and i’m not letting you forget it.”

the room was dim, the soft golden light from the hallway spilling through the cracked bedroom door. taehyun hadn’t let go of you. not since the moment you both collapsed into each other, skin against skin, breaths uneven, hearts pounding too loud for either of you to ignore. the air was still heavy with the scent of last night—sweat, sex, his cologne lingering on your skin. your legs ached. your throat felt raw. but it was a quiet ache. a sore you didn’t mind.

but now, the high was gone, replaced by something raw and heavy.

his fingers traced idle shapes along the curve of your bare spine, but his eyes were distant. not cold — not like before — but unreadable. he wasn’t looking at you. he stared at the ceiling, his chest still rising and falling beneath yours.

you shifted slightly in his arms, pulling the sheets tighter around your body. your voice was quiet when you spoke.

"i know you don’t love me." you felt his breath catch. his hand stopped moving. "you never have."

taehyun didn’t answer at first. the silence made your throat close up. maybe you shouldn't have said it. maybe it was better when everything was unspoken — easier to pretend.

"you’re right," he said finally, his voice low, flat. "i didn’t."

you nodded, heart sinking, even though you told yourself you were prepared for that truth.

"but i loved you," you whispered, eyes stinging.

that made him look at you.

not glance. not flick his gaze and move on.

he turned his head, slowly, and looked at you like he had never seen you before. his eyes searched yours — not just your face, not your lips or your lashes or the outline of your cheek — but you. like he was trying to piece together something he hadn’t noticed until now.

"you what?" he asked, almost breathless.

"i loved you," you repeated. the words burned on your tongue, bitter and hot and trembling. "quietly. without reason. without hope. even when you wouldn’t look at me. even when you kept me at arm’s length for a year. i still—" you paused, swallowing hard. "i don’t know when it started. maybe it was the way you always pulled my chair out at those family dinners. or the way you’d always place your hand on the small of my back when we had to play pretend in front of everyone. it was nothing. always nothing. but it meant something to me."

taehyun sat up slowly, the sheets slipping down his bare chest. he looked like he wanted to say something, but nothing came. he was frozen, and that silence felt worse than any rejection.

you smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. "it’s okay. you don’t have to say anything. i just… i needed you to know. even if it changes nothing."

"stop," he said suddenly. his voice cracked.

you blinked. "...what?"

"don’t say it meant nothing," he said, turning to face you completely. there was a tension in his jaw, his hands clenched in the sheets like he didn’t know where else to put them. "don’t say that."

you stared at him, lips parting, but he beat you to it.

"i saw you tonight," he said, his voice lower, steadier now. "with him. laughing like that. smiling like it didn’t hurt. like you weren’t trying to survive this fucking arrangement. and for the first time, i hated myself for not trying harder. for not seeing you sooner. i thought i could stay distant. keep it clean. keep it safe. but then—"

he exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair.

"then you looked at me like you didn’t need me anymore."

your heart thudded in your chest.

"so maybe i didn’t love you then," he said, his voice quiet again. "but don’t tell me it meant nothing. because right now, i think it’s starting to mean everything."

you stared at him, breath caught in your throat, chest tight with the ache of all the things unsaid between you.

slowly, carefully, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his.

"then let it mean something," you whispered.

taehyun closed his eyes. and for the first time — truly, deeply — he held you like he didn’t want to let you go.

he opened his eyes a little at the time. he stared a moment longer—at your lips, your eyes, the faint tremble still in your voice. then, for the first time, he leaned in without hesitation. without obligation.

his kiss was soft. warm. nothing like last night.

when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“i’ll draw a bath for you,” he said. “stay in bed.”

you blinked. “you…?”

“you can’t walk properly,” he added, and this time, a tiny smirk curved at the corner of his mouth. “my fault.”

you flushed. “taehyun—”

“don’t argue,” he said, sitting up. the sheets slid down his bare torso, revealing the lines you’d traced with your fingers just hours ago. “you married me. you’re mine. that means i take care of you now.”

you stayed quiet as he got out of bed, the tenderness in his tone still ringing in your ears.

you’re mine.

i take care of you now.

but for the first time, you felt it in the way he walked toward the bathroom. in the way he turned on the water. in the way he reached for a towel and hung it over the warmer. in the way he came back to you with a robe in hand and helped you into it without asking.

he wasn’t warm. not exactly. but he was no longer cold.

he was changing.

and god help you—so were you.

[ficscollection]

WRONG NUMBER, RIGHT PERSON

where Kang Taehyun accidentally texts your number by mistake, but instead of feeling embarrassed, he becomes intrigued by the unexpected friendship that follows.

pairing! non-idol!taehyun x gn!reader

genre! fluff, crack, mini smau

warnings! cursing

note! OMFG IVE TRIED TO MAKE THIS POST 100X AND ITS STILL NOT WORKING. I'm tired of making the same goddam note it's pissing me off, hopefully this goes through to drafts, enjoy computer science tyun in this mini smau tho ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

© boigyu 2025 . do not copy, translate or plagiarize

[ficscollection]

im not sure if your comfortable w this trope but... stepbrother!taehyun 😔

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍

summary: five years ago, your dad married his mom. you were never close. not really. but the tension, the kind that lingered in your glances and accidental touches... was always there, waiting. one summer night, you catch him in a moment of private pleasure... and neither of you are able to pretend anymore.

pairing: stepbrother!taehyun x stepsister!reader

genre: smut, angst, stepbrother!au, slow burn, forbidden romance, power struggle, unresolved tension.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), masturbation, voyeurism, rough sex, dom/sub power struggle, use of protection, spanking (light), strong language, taboo themes (step-siblings, but no blood relation), sexual tension, minor exhibitionism, suggestive dialogue, awkward morning after

wc: 2,2k

notes: wow, thanks anon, honestly, i’m comfortable with this. i actually have a similar fanfic with soobin that i never dared to post because i was scared it might make people uncomfortable or be poorly received. please read all the way to the end if you want to hear more about my thoughts on the theme.

five years ago, your father married taehyun’s mother. it was a small ceremony, nothing extravagant, just close family and friends gathered under a blush-colored sunset. everyone smiled. everyone said it was beautiful, that you were now a family.

family.

the word always tasted foreign on your tongue whenever you looked at taehyun. it didn’t matter how many dinners you sat through, how many family vacations you forced yourselves to smile for. the truth lingered just under the surface—he never felt like your brother. not really.

your dad and his mom were head over heels in love, and tried so hard to make you two feel like a happy little blended family. but you and taehyun? never siblings. never even close.

there were rules, of course. unspoken ones. you would both pretend. you would play along for your parents’ sake, acting like siblings when necessary. but behind closed doors, when the charade dropped, it was something different. it wasn’t family. it wasn’t hate either. it was something heavier. something that lived in stolen glances across the dinner table, in the way your fingers would brush when you passed each other in the hallway, in the too-long eye contact when no one else was watching.

you tried, at first, to ignore it. god, you tried. but some things grow wild when you starve them, and the tension between you and taehyun was one of them. it twisted and stretched over the years, thickening every time he slung his arm too casually over the couch where you sat, or when you caught him looking at you like he was memorizing every inch of your skin. you never talked about it. you never named it. but it was there, pulsing and alive, hiding just underneath the way he would call you “sis” with a smirk that never reached his eyes.

summer in your house was unbearable. not because of the heat, although the humidity clung to your skin like a second layer, heavy and suffocating. but because of him. because taehyun was always there—shirtless, loud, smug—and every corner of that damn house seemed to vibrate with the memory of your fights, your glares, your unsaid words.

if anything, you were rivals.

your personalities clashed constantly—both of you stubborn, both too sharp for your own good, both used to getting the last word. your parents called it banter. you called it warfare.

and still… there were moments. fleeting seconds when the air got too thick between you. when you brushed past each other in the hallway and his hand lingered a little too long on your waist. when you fought about the remote and he leaned in too close, the curve of his smirk brushing your cheek. when he called you princess in that mocking tone, and your stomach twisted in ways it shouldn't.

you never spoke of it. never acknowledged the heat. it simmered quietly, dangerously, waiting.

and then came that night.

you can’t sleep.

you're wearing his hoodie, one you stole from the laundry days ago, pretending it doesn’t still smell like him. you wander the dark hallway, heart thudding, feet silent on the cold floor.

it was past midnight. the house was silent, your parents long asleep. you'd been tossing in bed, craving something cold, something sweet—maybe the popsicles hidden in the freezer behind your stepmom’s meal preps. you padded barefoot into the hallway in the big hoodie and cotton panties, yawning, eyes half-closed.

and then you heard it.

a low, sharp gasp. the creak of a bed. a muffled curse.

you paused at the end of the hallway, heart stuttering.

his door was open. just a crack—but enough.

enough for you to see him.

taehyun, sprawled on his bed, shirtless, bathed in moonlight. sweat-slicked chest rising and falling. eyes half-lidded, jaw clenched, hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself with slow, angry precision.

you froze.

his head tilted back, a broken sound escaping his throat.

“fuck…” he muttered, breathless. “just like that…”

your knees almost gave out.

you should’ve turned around. you should’ve walked back to your room and pretended you never saw a thing. but your body betrayed you, burning from the inside out, and your mouth moved before your brain caught up.

“you left the damn door open, idiot.”

his whole body jolted. he sat up abruptly, hand still around his cock, wild eyes meeting yours. his expression twisted in horror and frustration and—something else.

“shit!” he hissed. “what the fuck, are you spying on me?”

you stepped into the room, fire rising in your chest. “you wish. i came down for a snack, not to watch you jerk off.”

“then go back to your fucking room!” he snapped, yanking the sheet over his lap too late. his cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide, lips parted.

you didn’t move.

his jaw flexed. “get out.”

he threw the blanket off, stood, and you could see the line of his muscles, the tension coiled in his body, the fact that he was still hard.

“i said—”

“make me,” you whispered.

“always fucking arguing,” he muttered. “can’t even let me jerk off in peace.”

“you wanted me to see you.”

you folded your arms, leaning against the doorframe, deliberately not looking away.

“i won't tell you again.”

“why would i? you don’t seem to mind the audience.”

his gaze dropped to your legs, the hoodie, the way it barely covered your thighs. when he looked back up, something had shifted.

you felt it—like a snap in the air.

“you’re always running your mouth,” he said quietly, rising from the bed without breaking eye contact. “acting like you’re in control. like you can handle shit you don’t even understand.”

“oh, and you do?” you shot back, heat pooling between your legs. “you think jerking off in the dark makes you some kind of expert?”

he laughed. low. dangerous.

“i think it means i know exactly what i want,” he said. “and how to take it.”

you scoffed. “you wish you could take me.”

in a heartbeat, he crossed the room, chest to chest with you, body radiating heat. his breath was all over your lips, your cheeks, your throat. you refused to back down, tilting your chin defiantly.

“try me,” you whispered.

his hand caught your wrist. tight. his other hand gripped your waist.

it was too much.

too much heat. too much tension. too many years of pretending, of ignoring, of brushing past each other in narrow hallways and acting like neither of you felt the static.

taehyun was still holding you against the wall, breath ragged against your ear, fingers pressing bruises into your hips.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured, but his grip tightened.

you swallowed, breathless. “no.”

his forehead dropped against yours. his body was burning, chest rising and falling against you. he wasn’t smirking now. wasn’t playing games.

“fuck,” he muttered, like he hated himself. “i don’t—i don’t think i can stop.”

you exhaled shakily, threading your fingers into his hair.

“i don’t want you to.”

a harsh, sharp breath left him. his thumb dragged along your jaw, down your throat, over the racing pulse there.

“you—” his voice broke. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.”

your knees went weak. “taehyun…”

he lifted you onto the bed, lips ghosting over your collarbone, your shoulder, your jaw.

and then—softly, desperately—

“tell me you’ve thought about it too.”

your stomach tightened. you forced yourself to meet his gaze, the way his pupils were blown wide, his lips parted.

you could lie. you could keep up the game.

but you were too far gone.

“i think about you when i touch myself,” you admitted, voice raw.

taehyun let out a sharp exhale, like you had just wrecked him.

“fuck.”

his fingers dug into the sheets beside your head, body trembling as he stared down at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

his hand slid up your thigh, slow, deliberate.

“say it again,” he whispered.

your cheeks burned, but there was no going back now.

“i think about you,” you repeated, fingers gripping his shoulders, dragging him closer. “about your hands. your mouth. about how bad i want you.”

his breath stuttered. his forehead dropped to your shoulder, a soft, wrecked groan escaping him.

then he kissed you. hard.

like he was claiming you.

his fingers curled into your hair, his other hand slipping under your waistband, finding just how wet you were.

he let out a low, dangerous chuckle against your lips.

“you really have been thinking about me, huh?”

you clenched your jaw. “don’t get cocky.”

he kissed the corner of your mouth, then lower, trailing down your throat.

“don’t start what you can’t finish,” he growled.

“then shut up and finish it.”

and when his fingers dipped inside you, slow and teasing, you knew you were fucked.

he pulled back only enough to look at you—his lips red, his breathing shaky.

"i need to fuck you," he whispered, like it physically hurt to hold it in. "need to feel you lose control under me."

you clenched around nothing, nodding before your pride could get in the way.

"then do it."

and that was all it took.

his mouth was back on yours, hungry, biting, tongue fucking your lips open as his hands dragged down to tear at your shorts. you lifted your hips, eager, desperate, and he growled when he felt how wet your underwear was.

"fuck, baby," he hissed, dragging the soaked fabric down your thighs. "you’re dripping. did just confessing turn you on this much?"

"shut up," you breathed, tugging at his shirt, nails scratching up his back. "less talking, more fucking."

he smirked against your neck, then you heard the distinct sound of a condom wrapper being torn open—he'd had one in his drawer. you felt his cock, hard and heavy, brush against your thigh as he rolled it on. you raised an eyebrow.

“what, you just keep those around?”

he didn’t even blink. “you live here, don’t you?”

you were breathless at that. angry and turned on and god, you hated how much you liked that answer.

“fuck you,” you whispered.

“that’s the plan.” he tore the foil open with his teeth. “you’re lucky i’m responsible,” he muttered, pressing the blunt head against your entrance.

you bit your lip, eyes fluttering.

“you’re lucky i’m letting you.”

that made him groan.

"fuck, you’re perfect."

he slid in slow, watching every inch disappear inside you like he wanted to burn the sight into memory. you gasped, legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him closer.

and when he pushed inside you, slow and thick and unforgiving, you saw stars.

he wasn’t gentle.

he wasn’t rough.

he was intense.

every thrust was a dare. every moan a power play.

you tried to take control, to ride his rhythm, to drag him under your pace—he resisted, holding your wrists down, pinning you by the hips.

"you like thinking you're in charge, huh?" he growled against your throat.

"i am in charge," you spat, pushing your hips up hard, making him stutter mid-thrust.

his eyes darkened.

"not tonight."

he fucked you deeper, harder, making your back arch off the bed, your voice rising.

"say it," he hissed. "say you want me in control."

you refused.

so he angled just right.

and that was it.

you broke.

"taehyun—fuck—yes, okay, yes, yes."

he kissed you, like he was sealing a deal.

and when you came, shaking, crying out his name, he didn’t stop. he chased his own release like a man possessed, groaning your name when he finally let go, collapsing over you, breathless and trembling.

you lay there for a long minute, tangled, sticky, ruined.

neither of you said a word.

because saying something meant admitting what had just happened.

and admitting it meant figuring out what came next.

the clink of dishes. the sound of the news playing quietly from the living room. the smell of coffee and peanut butter.

your parents were already seated at the table, sipping tea and chatting about some neighbor’s new garden.

you stood at the kitchen counter, still in pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt, trying to spread peanut butter over a stubborn piece of toast without thinking about how your thighs still ached.

taehyun walked in.

you didn’t even have to look to know. you felt him—his heat, his presence, the weight of what you'd done.

he walked right behind you, headed for the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

but as he passed, his palm landed on your ass. not hard. not loud.

just enough.

your breath hitched and you gasped, body jolting forward slightly, the knife nearly slipping from your fingers.

"everything okay, honey?" your dad asked from the table.

you blinked. blinked again.

"i—uh. almost dropped the jam," you stammered, holding up the glass jar. "it’s slippery."

your mom smiled politely and went back to her tea.

behind you, taehyun popped open the bottle of water and chuckled, quietly.

the bastard.

you turned slightly, eyes narrowed.

he just raised an eyebrow, took a sip, and leaned in close enough that only you could hear:

"you moaned so pretty last night."

your face burned.

you wanted to punch him. or fuck him again.

or both.

my honest reaction to that req

[ficscollection]

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.

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

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.

tags: @taebatu @yyeonbinn @binniesblep @beomgyusluver @feet4liferss @vvjolyneee @chubichubs @soo-blue @bakugosbottombitch @thegalaxyisunfolding

reblogs/comments/feedback are always appreciated <3

[ficscollection]

kisses to my exes ☘︎

nothing wrong with giving a review on twitter about your experience with your exes. some bad, some great. it’s all in good fun!

kai's note : first txt work!!! i hope you enjoy!

back to library

© strrykais

perm 🏷️ : @sxungchqn @chenlezip @lov3lyv4mps @peskybirdysya @skysole @dollxkill @goldenmellow @kj-kts @imagine-all-the-imagines @sellomaybe @va1entinaaa @insbread @d3kstar @thisrandombitch @jeonginsbaee @grassbutneo @weirdowithaphone @iarainha (if you were tagged its because you put everything! Hope thats okay with a new group added!)

if you wanna be on the permanent taglist please fill out this form! If you already filled it please fill it again if you wanna be added to the txt permanent taglist! or send in an ask!

[ficscollection]

Lamb To The Slaughter

♫: Gods & Monsters, Lana Del Rey

"An act of kindness goes a long way, your parents told you once; their words stuck with you all your life, your pure heart never failing to follow their philosophy— though, it seems your naive self was left unaware of just how far an act of kindness can go."

wolf hybrid!beomgyu x lamb hybrid!fem!reader x herding dog hybrid!soobin

Genre: smut, hybrid au, angst, porn with the world's smallest amount of plot

Word count: 15.8k

Warnings: barely edited oops, heavy predator/prey themes, injuries/blood, use of scents, scent glands and scenting, mentions of kidnapping and murder, psychological abuse i guess… this fic doesn’t let you forget that they’re hybrids btw, (showcases animal-like behaviors and habits), soogyu are stronger than the mc, obsessiveness, manipulation

Smut Warnings: DUBCON. threesome, mean dom!gyu, soft dom!soobin, sub!mc,inexperienced!mc, pet names (pretty, doll, good girl, etc.) manhandling, marking, subspace, possessiveness, choking kinda, dry humping, praise, praise kink, humiliation, dacryphilia, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, degrading, orgasm control, dumbification, finger sucking, cum eating(?), spanking, begging, mind breaking, unprotected sex, jerking off ig, jealousy, hair pulling, rough sex, corruption kink maybe, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, double vaginal penetration… brief mentions of breeding, creampies, knotting, claiming, mc blacks out. (lmk if i should add anything.)

Notes: look at these stupidly long paragraphs of warnings oh im gonna kms. this story almost had me plucking my hairs out one by one, i’ve never been so stressed out by a pwp before. it was originally an ot5 au and was supposed to come out during october but… yk. shit happens. (i saw a post that changed the entire trajectory of this fic)

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The forest at the edge of the village is something that should’ve been closed off long ago— but there’s no resources, no men to work on the border, no money— so the townspeople have resorted to old myths and tales to ward off wandering children and defenseless women instead.

There’s a killer in the forest— fairies will lead you down the wrong path and trap you in the woods forever; there’s a hidden pond so deep that if you fall in, you’ll sink forever. Typical tales that are told around the bonfire, where people cower and whisper from the thrill of the stories. Yet with each varied warning, one thing stays the same.  

There are wolves in the forest.

Large and strong and invincible, with a terrifying bloodlust and noses so keen they could spot you the moment you cross the barrier; tearing you to shreds, eating you alive and forcing you to feel the pain all throughout it. The wolves are always hungry, insatiable, and lurking about for its next prey— anyone who would enter the woods willingly would be deemed suicidal. 

You’ve never been one to believe such tales; how could you, when you’ve grown alongside the forest?

There are wolves in the forest, that much you’re sure of— but the fantastical tales and myths are nothing but a farce, crafted from the fear of the unknown and the dark, entangled landscape that lies past the backyard of your small cottage; belonging to your deceased parents, now left to fend on your own and care for the gardens and lush plants your mother had carefully cultivated since you were a child. 

She taught you everything you needed to know about the forest; which paths to take, which areas led to steep cliffs or poison ivy, and where to find herbs and plants that would aid to the medicinal business your family ran— you were fascinated by the craft, even as a young child, learning with eager eyes and an even more eager mind as you stored all the information in your small, worn down journal; the pink material of the cover faded and torn at the corners, filled to the brim yet still useful to you as you took it with you on every trip.  

Tonight, you pull on a warm coat dress; it’s thick and durable, a cute piece gifted on your birthday by the baker’s son, the border collie family always making sure to look after you since the day you were left on your own. The shawl sewed into the coat hangs over your shoulders like a small cape, adding in extra warmth as you look out the window and onto the cold scenery; the leaves have begun to abandon the trees, and if you hadn’t memorized the forest layout like the back of your hand, the covered paths might’ve concerned you— but you’re confident as always, grabbing your wicker basket and perching it on the crook of your elbow, glancing down to make sure your journal is already inside— and with one last mental check to make sure you have everything you need, you slip on your boots and make your way outside. 

“Soobin,” you say in surprise, swinging the door open, getting scared at the sight of someone already waiting for you outside— the said man only smiles at the sound of his name, laughing fondly at the way you press a gentle hand against your startled heart; his ears perk up at the sight of you and his black hair is slightly disheveled, though you guess it’s probably from his habit of running a hand through it whenever he’s restless— he holds a basket of his own, and your eyes fall onto it with a curiosity you don’t bother to hide.

“Hello pretty,” he smiles softly, the nickname never failing to make a heat flush up the back of your neck— you really hope he doesn’t notice your flushed expression, his eyes narrowing with fondness as he brings his basket up, opening it to show you the contents, “I made an extra batch of bread, and I thought you’d like some. Business will get busy for us both soon, and I’d hate for you to get hungry because you don’t have time to eat.”

He’s sweet and caring, and it never fails to leave your knees weak— he looks at you with nothing short of affection, raising a brow in curiosity and glancing down at your already occupied arm— his brows furrow, biting his lip in thought as he finally pieces everything together. 

“Are you going to the woods?” he asks softly, reaching past you and into the doorway, placing the basket of bread on the table next to the door— his hands are immediately coming up to your shoulders, smoothing out the soft material of the coat with narrowed eyes— and they’re filled with worry again, ears angling down and tail swaying slowly from side to side, searching your face that can’t seem to lie to him, “It’s dangerous to go at this hour, you shouldn’t.”

“It’ll only be dangerous if you continue to stall me,” you tease, shrugging his hands off and wrapping your own around his elbow, tugging him until you’re both stepping out of your home; he allows you to, and you’re locking it up with ease, even as he continues to tell you not to, to go another day, another time— you huff, shaking your head and frowning at the way he begins to offer to come with you; his instincts must be kicking in again, eyes filled with a calculated look he only sports when looking out for your safety— and with you being nothing but a fragile little lamb in his eyes, this look was something you’ve become very familiar with. 

“No, you mustn’t come with— it’s dangerous, and I’m the only one who knows my way around the woods,” you scold him, and even though he stares at you with that intimidating, stern look, murmuring about something about his keen senses, you stand your ground, “I’m too one-track-minded to guide someone else through these woods— I’d hate for you to get hurt because of me.”

He sighs— and you know you’ve gotten him good by the way he remains silent, stalling his leave as he tries continuing to reason with you— but you keep refusing in return, cooing softly that you’ll be okay, that you’ll be quick. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he finally says, refusing to back down even as you express your worry; after a moment of bickering, you finally give in. Your eyes widen in surprise as he gently pulls you in for a hug, engulfed entirely in his embrace as he rests his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your scent with a content sigh— warm, comforting and pure, like jasmine with the hint of a pure, soft vanilla, his nose subconsciously poking at your gland in search for more— and you shiver at the feeling, engulfed in his calming scent, a sage and rich pine, allowing yourself to melt in his arms and hold you tighter, ignoring the way your heart begins to race the longer your remain there. 

“Come back to me safe.”

Soobin is just as solemn and loyal as he was the day he declared that he would always protect you— and it makes your heart race a bit faster, a dopey smile stuck on your face as you wave him goodbye— you sigh pathetically the moment you’re finally in the woods.

The leaves crunch under your feet and birds chirp in the distance; it’s comforting to you, humming softly to yourself as you walk the paths you need to take without much of a thought, gathering herbs and plants as you slowly check them off your list; everything goes as smoothly as it always does, your mind in awe as you witness the sun beginning to set. 

You should get going soon; it was never ideal to be in the woods after dark, no matter how familiar you were with the landscape. The thought makes your steps quicken and your eyes sweep over the land in acute concentration, looking for the last plant on your list— you’re freezing entirely when you hear a shift against the leaves. 

You’re still; was it a false alarm, or a harmless rabbit passing by? You’re not entirely sure, wicker basket heavy in your hand as the other presses firmly against your heart; trying to settle your heart rate, breathing deeply as you look for any signs of movement, any signs of life around you. 

Just when you think the coast is clear, you hear it again; rustling against the leaves, harsh and erratic as something else greets your ears— sharp pants and sounds of struggle, a pained yelp resounding into the vast space and sending you into action before you can think twice. 

You round the thick oak tree ahead of you, searching for the source of the sound— and stumble back in surprise, an involuntary gasp escaping you as sharp eyes and equally sharp teeth point your way— a man lays before you, injured and weak.

Except, he’s not just a man; that much is made clear to you the moment your eyes sweep over his frame once more, taking in the ears that press flat on his head and his fangs that remain bared at you, the injured man—wolf hybrid— growling lowly at you and shuffling back to curl against the thick tree that once covered him; your hands shake as you hold onto your basket a little tighter, wide eyes sweeping over his figure and inevitably landing on the source of all this commotion; a twisted ankle, rendering the man before you immobile. 

You must run— you must, and it’s all your instincts seem to yell at you, your muscles becoming rigid with tension, white ears pressing flat against the top of your head and fluffy tail quivering with fear— but you have yet to, something about the look in the wolf’s eyes making you ignore your instincts, just for a second; behind the dangerous fangs that glint beneath the remaining light and his eyes that are narrowed threateningly, you can still see the pain he’s found himself in.

Something inside you clicks— your weak heart twists and your hands grip your basket a bit tighter, a voice in your mind telling you that you can’t just leave him like this; you can do something to help. Next thing you know, you’re taking cautious, slow steps toward him, hands held out to show that you’re nothing close to a threat— though you’re sure that the smell of fear that rolls off you in waves is enough of an indicator— and your soft voice is whispering out your intentions, continuing your approach even as he bares his teeth at you in warning. 

“I want to help you,” you say softly, finally at his feet as you place your basket gently next to him; and he growls at you once more, though you don’t find yourself to be afraid— if he were dangerous, he would’ve attacked long ago. It’s the only thought that repeats itself in your mind like a prayer, pretending as though your hands don’t tremble as you reach into your basket, as you grab the herbs you were just stocking up on and the bandages you carry for emergencies. 

He lets out a particularly harsh growl that makes you jump; it makes you hesitate to touch his skin, bruised and broken and bloody, eyes jumping to meet his— and though the action was meant to be confident, nothing can hide the fear that taints your eyes, the way your frame shrinks slightly when you’ve found that he has no issues holding eye contact— and after a standstill moment, you finally continue, ripping a piece of the bandage and attempting to clean the wound as best as you can. 

You’re a bit clumsy at first; unable to look away from the man, his strikingly dark red hair that's matted to his head from a thin layer of sweat, dirtied clothes and face that’s twisted in a mean glare— but eventually, it softens, the deep heaving of his chest calming as he watches the way you tend to him with deft hands, not seeming to care if he’s soiling your pretty coat as you tug him closer to you. 

The bandages are tight on his ankle and you’ve placed herbs within to help soothe the swelling— all tricks you’ve learned from your mother, from the times when you would run about carelessly and twist your ankle in some hidden hole, only calming your cries to see her work her magic on you.

Reassuring words don’t do much in the grand scheme of things, but you still whisper them sweetly to the injured man before you, dry bandage cleaning along the rest of his calf as you tell him to rest, to try and not overexert himself. And though you don’t know if he can understand you, though you’re unsure of where he came from— because as far as you know, wolves have been banished from your village for decades— you still find yourself caring for him. It’s something he can pick up on in your eyes, gentle and reflecting the last of the sun’s golden rays that leak through the woods. 

It’s quiet; it’s peaceful. Warm fingers lingering on his skin much longer than you intended, a curiosity leaking through your wide eyes as you take in his figure, the tall dark ears that stand on his head, the tail that lays on his side, thumping rhythmically— and you think you’ve finally found the courage to ask who are you? Lips parting to speak, you’re cut off by the sound of rustling, a new overwhelming scent overtaking your senses; something is approaching. 

The man before you doesn’t seem to be worried; it’s you that’s whipping around to the source of the sound, shrinking pathetically once you spot something emerging from the dark, thick mass of trees behind you; eyes, multiple pairs, glowing and angry as they stare at you like you’re their next meal— you’re not sure how many pairs there might be, but you’re stumbling to your feet quickly, eyes widening as you realize that the sun has set long, long ago.

You almost slip on the leaves beneath you; one last glance at the man behind you shows that his hands were out as though to catch you, expression twisted with what you’re surprised to see is… concern. But as a rough growling begins to surround the two of you, a sharp pang of fear courses through your body, the gravity of your situation finally sinking in as your eyes sweep around the area in one last, terrified glance.

They’re targeting you.

Before you can think twice, you’re turning on your heel and running— though nothing follows behind, you still let adrenaline take its course, shallow breaths and teary eyes guiding you back to your home; you don’t realize how crazed you must’ve looked until you’re finally reaching your front door, a worried Soobin immediately interrupting your flee and scooping you into his arms, whirling around to shield you away from the forest.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? Dear, what happened?” he’s breathing out the concerned questions against the crown of your head, arms wrapped tightly around your middle and the only thing keeping you up as your knees buckle with fear; his gaze sweeps down to the state of your cute coat, the once pristine and pink material now dirty and bloodied; his hands hold onto it with a newfound panic, lifting the coat and attempting to find the source— it isn’t until you’ve let out a few pathetic sniffles that you can finally reassure him the blood is not yours.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen to you? Oh, I should’ve—” Soobin has pulled away to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the tears that escape your sweet eyes like a fountain; thumbs caressing your tear-streaked skin lovingly, brows knitted together as his concern pours off him in waves— and you shake your head softly, attempting to dissuade the guilt he must’ve felt for leaving you on your own. 

“It’s fine, I’m not hurt,” you croak out, grabbing onto his waist for support as you finally regain the strength in your legs, “I just— had some encounters with a wolf— but I’m safe, they didn’t hurt me, I’m just a bit shaken, is all.”

“A wolf?” Soobin asks, much more concerned by your words as he pulls away to inspect you once more; his hands run gingerly over your shoulders, running along them until they’ve stopped at your neck, eyes honing in on the spot for a moment before he sighs in relief. His gaze is hardening once more, cupping your face and looking at your sternly as he speaks. “Where were they? Did they follow you? Did you interact with them?”

“No, no— it’s alright, I’m alright, I promise,” you breathe out, hoping that Soobin doesn’t notice the way you shrink under his gaze, the way your body warms up at his touch— but he’s much too concerned about your safety to pick up on it, dismissing every cue of your body as nothing but fear, instincts heightened as he looks behind you and back at the forest you just came from. He watches the woods carefully, eyes narrowed and ears perked in concentration— but nothing happens, and he’s left to reluctantly believe your words, even if he wants nothing more than to run into the woods himself and make sure there’s no threat to you. 

After a moment of observing the forest, Soobin is turning back to you, and his gaze immediately softens at the sight. The brave front you put up isn’t fooling him, and it’s quite obvious that you’re still shaken from your encounter, delicate ears still pressed close to your head, eyes wide and scent muddled with distress— like rotten flowers, earthy and pungent— and with all the adrenaline ebbing away from your system, you’ve found that your legs have become pure jelly once more; Soobin is quick to catch on to the way you tremble and hold on to him tightly. 

“Oh, my doll,” Soobin sighs softly, fishing for your keys in your coat pockets and unlocking the door for you, leading you inside with a careful hand— as though you were made of porcelain, still shaken and anxious as he leads you to sit down, “it’s alright, you’re safe now— I’ll keep you safe.”

Soobin insists on taking care of you long after you tell him you feel better; he’s keen to protect you through and through, keeping his distance yet still doting on you as he makes you tea, helps you out of your coat, and even offers to wash it for you— the sight replaces the heavy fear in your stomach with butterflies. 

When he bids you goodbye, his eyes are soft, his movements slightly reluctant— but he must, it’s unlawful for him to stay the night with you; an unclaimed little prey like you, spending the night with Soobin, even if he was nothing short of perfect and kind, was enough to have the town gossiping like a storm. The very thought has your cheeks hot and your tongue stumbling on words, telling Soobin to get home safe with a shy, sweet voice— and he brushes his thumb against your cheekbones, smiling fondly before he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead; he lingers there, and you think you might just melt against him before he finally bids you goodbye. 

Your heart still races long after he’s gone; you suppose all this makes up for the fact that you forgot your basket in the woods, mourning the fact that you’ll have to go back to get it tomorrow— but for now, you’re content with giggling softly at the memory of Soobin’s lips against your skin, completely unaware of the eyes that watch you twirl around your kitchen happily.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you wake up, you find something peculiar at your doorstep; your wicker basket is placed before your feet, pristine as it was when you first took it out. 

Your brows furrow, looking around the area and wondering how it got here— your mind is going back to the wolf you tended to, eyes slowly sweeping over the dense forest, ears twitching in attention, listening for even the slightest rustle of leaves, wondering if he’s still lingering— but the world around you is still, and it seems to be only you here. You bend down to pick the basket up carefully. 

Everything is intact— your herbs, your bandages, your worn down pink journal— and the closer you bring it to your face in order to inspect it, the better you’re able to catch something peculiar; a scent, your nose twitching in curiosity and your eyes narrowing. The unknown scent only grows stronger the closer you get to the handkerchief you used to line the inside, and only then are you able to get a good sense of it— light and heady, like an amber and smoky smell filling your nose, finding yourself oddly enticed by the scent. 

You’re far too wrapped up in attempting to decipher the complicated notes of this new scent to notice someone approaching; your senses have gotten so used to Soobin’s presence you no longer find yourself alert around him, only perking up at the approaching sound of leaves crunching and the familiar, sage filling your senses— tucking the basket behind your back, you send him a meek smile, cheeks heating up as you silently hope he didn’t see you curiously nosing at your basket. 

“Hey, pretty thing,” Soobin rumbles out lowly, smiling fondly at the way you practically preen at the name; you’re terrible at hiding your expression, the way your ears twitch at his words not helping your attempts to seem nonchalant before him. 

“Hi Soobin,” you smile, fingers restlessly playing with the wicker basket behind your back as you tilt your head curiously, “what’re you doing here today?”

“I needed to check on you,” he says immediately, a soft oh leaving your lips at that, “I couldn’t sleep well knowing I just… left you here on your own. I needed to make sure you were safe.”

“Soobin, it’s fine, really,” you reassure him softly, fluffy tail wiggling behind you at the fact that he confessed how worried he was about you, his dedication to keep you safe, “Nothing happened— as long as I’m in my home, I’m safe.”

Soobin wants to argue against that, you can tell. But you don’t give him a chance to, inviting him in with a tug at his arm, smiling at the way he immediately relents; you tell him about your plans for today over a cup of tea, that you have to make a few deliveries to some homes across the village— Soobin practically jumps to offer to come with. 

“You– won’t you be busy?” you ask shyly, staring down at your teacup and stirring your spoon in  a feeble way to distract yourself. 

“No, I’m not needed at the bakery today,” Soobin immediately reassures you, reaching over the table to place a delicate hand over your own— and you stiffen, a heat rushing through your body at the sudden contact; the smell of sage wafts over to you as his thumb rubs soothingly over your skin, your mind mulling over his offer as you bite at your lip in thought. 

He’s eager to hear you say yes; his tail wags slowly behind him, ears perked up and eyes honed in on your every expression— and after a moment, you finally nod meekly. 

“It’s only a house or two, but the walk is… it’s far,” you say, standing at the doorway and reaching over for your basket, placing the bottles and jars filled with homemade remedies inside carefully— but before you can continue your explanations and tuck your basket snuggly into the crook of your arm, Soobin is taking it from you, his brows knitted together as he stares down at the item in confusion. 

“I thought you lost this,” he says quietly, rotating the item in his hands, taking in its pristine condition with a frown— his ears are perking up and his tail is straightening, head whipping over to you with wide, concerned eyes. “Did you go into the woods to retrieve it?”

“No!” you say, oddly defensive as you shake your head adamantly, “It just— it was at my doorstep this morning, I think someone might have found it—”

“The wolf,” Soobin sneers, his tone much darker than it was mere moments ago— it makes your ears flatten against your head and your figure shrink, his scent turning earthy and thick and rendering you docious and pliant— his eyes are darting from the basket and back to you, only to go back to the basket in order to examine it closely; the moment Soobin brings it closer to his face, you’re able to see the very moment where that same, smoky scent enters his senses— his pupils dilate, and his nose twitches. 

The same scent as before. Soobin recognized it as the same scent that you were drenched in the moment you found him, shaken and face aghast— your coat and skin reeked of nothing but that scent, wanting nothing more than to take you inside and replace it with his own— but the most he could do in the moment was hold you close and hope that it would wash off. 

The owner of this scent must have brought you the basket back; Soobin’s head races to find meaning, to find reason, adrenaline coursing through his body that yells at him to take action; this must be a threat—you’ve been followed, they know where you live.

“It isn’t safe for you to stay there anymore,” Soobin proceeded to tell you, only confessing how he felt once you were far, far away from your home— from the woods. And you could only shake your head at that, the reassurances an automatic response in your head at this point. 

But Soobin wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time; knowing that the wolf was out there somewhere, that he knew where you lived and even went as far as to visit your home— it made Soobin tense with anger. 

“That wolf was at your doorstep without you knowing,” Soobin continued to reason, all throughout your walk back, “you don’t know who they are— what their intentions are.” 

It was only then that you decided to mull through his offer to stay, or for you to stay with his family— images of a bloodthirsty wolf at your doorstep filled your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel like your nine year old self again, sitting at a fireplace and telling each other scary stories about the forest only a few feet away from you— your young self would always be left shaken and paranoid, asking your parents if you could sleep in their bed. 

Maybe you’ve become too used to being independent; you’ve survived this long on your own— most lamb hybrids you knew couldn’t walk around at night without having a trusted predator around to protect them, just in case— yet you were so used to depending only on yourself that you seem to have forgotten how truly vulnerable your species is; Soobin made sure to remind you with a stern look and crossed arms. 

“I don’t see why you’re insisting so much, binnie— I promise nothing happens here, this place is dead,” you tell him as you make dinner for the two of you, the sun now long gone and the man still stuck to your side, leaning against the counter beside you and watching you cook dutifully— his eyes drift over to the window behind him, looking over his shoulder and at the dark, gloomy forest that obscures his view; his eyes can’t help but narrow and pick apart each shape he sees, nose keen and eager to sense any changes, any hint of that smoky smell— but he sees nothing, and he’s turning back around to catch the way you send him a slightly incredulous look. 

“I understand why you might feel this way— you’ve been on your own for longer than you can remember, after all,” Soobin says softly, taking in the way your eyes remain downcast and you shy away from his gaze. Hesitantly, he shifts to stand behind you, a gentle hand placing itself on your bicep before his head lowers to rest on your shoulder; his forehead rests against you, able to smell the restless, flowery notes of your scent— despite the strong front you put up, Soobin’s keen senses are still able to pick up on the tenseness of your body, the way you keep glancing out the window and into the forest unsurely. 

“You have to allow yourself to be helped— there’s nothing wrong with that, doll,” he coaxes softly, ears atop his head twitching at the sound of the shaky sigh you let out— the stove is turned off, and the food is done— but you don’t seem to care about that much. 

Carefully, Soobin nudges at your jaw with his head; allowing your neck to tilt slowly, to expose it to him as his nose runs along your skin delicately, until it’s pressed against your scent gland, inhaling slowly and taking in the intense mix of smells and emotions within you— and he presses his lips softly against it, a gentle kiss that turns your scent sweet and fresh like a blooming flower; your heart pounds against your chest for a second, then proceeds to relax against Soobin’s hold the moment his scent invades your senses. 

“I’m here to protect you.” 

His words stick to you for the rest of the night— as does he, his presence reassuring enough to make you forget of why he was here in the first place— enough to allow you to miss the glowing eyes that peek from the edge of the forest as you get a glass of water in the middle of the night, taking in your drowsy figure and eyes that are heavy with sleep; unaware of the pair of eyes that take you in hungrily, the tongue that runs along a sharp set of teeth, nose twitching to get another gust of your sweet, clean scent, the muddled vanilla that makes his mouth water. 

With Soobin lying in the guest bedroom, you’re almost able to forget that there are wolves in the forest. That there is one that has now set his sights on the cute little lamb that tended to him with wide eyes and an innocent heart. 

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

It’s early in the morning when you bid Soobin goodbye; your cheeks are flushed and you’re barely able to look him in the eye, despite not having done anything more than talk the whole night. He finds your shyness nothing short of endearing, placing one last affectionate kiss on top of your head before he tells you to call him if you ever need anything— to never be afraid to ask for help. You nodded to his words with a soft smile. 

Watching him leave had left a bit of an empty feeling in your heart; you couldn’t seem to help but watch him leave pathetically, standing at your doorway even after he had long gone; his scent still drifted around in your senses, the warm and sturdy scent helping you remain calm as you finally went back inside— closing the door behind you, you were pleasantly surprised to see that your home still smelled strongly of him. 

You had over ten different orders you needed to work on; you were able to busy yourself with making medicine throughout the rest of the day, boiling herbs and making remedies for colds and illnesses and burns. It was a tedious and slow process, and as you finally began to reach the end of your list, you couldn’t help but frown. 

You ran out of two different herbs needed for these next three orders; without them, you wouldn’t be able to make the medications at all. 

Glancing out the window, you gulped; it wouldn’t be another thirty minutes before the sun set, but after your encounter a few days ago— paired with Soobin’s warning and harsh reality check— you were much more hesitant to go into the woods on your own. 

You could call Soobin— ask him if he’d like to accompany you, stay put until you finally had proper protection. You mulled over the idea for a moment, your traitorous mind whisperering encouraging words in order to see him again; it’s just for protection, you told yourself, walking over to your landline phone before you began to dial his number, tangling the long cord around your fingers absentmindedly as you did; you tried to dismiss the nervous pounding of your heart, the way you bit at your lips in anticipation of hearing his voice again.

“Hello?” you’re gulping slightly at the sound— part of you wasn’t expecting him to actually answer. Clearing your throat softly, you muster up the courage to do what you’ve been hesitant to for so long. 

“Hi Soobin,” you start softly, listening to the small hum of acknowledgement from the other side, “I— I’m sorry to bother, but I just wanted to ask; I have to make another trip to the forest— it’s urgent— and I… well, I was wondering if you’d be able to accompany me. For protection.” 

The shyness and hesitance in your voice is horribly apparent; it makes you face burn and your hands grow clammy, feeling as though there’s a lump in your throat as you wait for him to respond— it feels like eternity, but in reality, it’s merely seconds—- and you’re practically slumping against the wall in relief when he gives you a soft of course I can in response.

“Wait for me inside until I get there,” he says, and you nod, letting out a sound of affirmation as well, “I’ll be quick.” 

Soobin hangs up promptly after; you’re left to scurry around your home in preparation of your trip, changing out of your sullied work clothes and into something more comfortable— inevitably, the same coat from before finds itself wrapped around your form, and as you wait by the doorway with your wicker basket in hand, you realize with a smile that the item is practically drowned in Soobin’s scent— the item is wrapped around you tighter and your nose is burrowed deeply into the soft plush-like material, your senses spinning with the warm, earthy smells that belong to the man. 

The sun is setting— but he’ll be here soon, a fact only proved by the sound of footsteps your keen ears manage to pick up on; you’re practically racing to make it to your front door, only to pause at the sound of something else— more footsteps. 

Instinct brings your body to the floor and away from all windows; your back is pressed up against your door, ear pressed tightly against the wood as you remain alert, subconsciously holding your breath in fear of getting spotted in any way— but whoever is currently surrounding your home knows you’re here, judging by the way they take careful, calculated steps closer to your door— you will your heart to remain calm, to not alert them that you currently lean on the very item separating the two of you, but the fear that courses through your veins is simply too strong. 

Your mind is racing a mile a minute; you try to calculate who it could be, why they’re here— and you’re thinking back to Soobin’s warnings the night before, eyes widening as you scold yourself for being such a naive idiot— because as you pick up of the soft sounds of sniffing and low growls, you realize that you’ve managed to lead a pack of wolves right to your home. 

It all happens too quickly; you’re running from the door at the sudden spike of scents, like a dirty smoke that approaches your door in the blink of an eye— the wood practically flies off its hinges with the way it’s broken into, a scream involuntarily leaving you as you grab the nearest thing to you as a weapon— the fire pit poker is thin and old in your hands, but that’s the last thing on your mind as you back away slowly, taking in the wolves that make their way into your home with sheer terror. 

One, two, three— it’s only three of them, but it’s enough to have your limbs trembling and your ears pressed flat against your head; tall, broad figures, disheveled in appearance and looking at you with eyes dilated, filled with nothing but a carnal hunger that makes your stomach twist into knots. 

It’s a standstill. They watch you with coy smiles and blown out eyes, watching as you press yourself against the wall, wondering if you can make it to the back exit of your home if you try enough— but they’re perceptive to even the most miniscule movement, every twitch of your muscle garnering a step closer from any one of them; you remain still, and so do they. It’s silent, save for the ragged heavings of your chest and the low grumbles that resonate from theirs— they have yet to make a move, locking eyes with the tallest and watching as his lips quirk into a smile.

You feel nauseous. They’re toying with you.

They could easily take you— kill you— in a split second; the second you try to run, they’ll be hot on your heels, outmatched three to one and left at their mercy entirely. And judging by the way they practically salivate at the smell of fear that radiates from you, you don’t think your fate with them will end well.

You gulp. They watch you, keen eyes taking in the way your throat bobs, the tears that fill your eyes— the way your legs look as though they’ll give out on you any moment now, the flimsy poker in your hands nothing but a joke as you point it at them in warning— as though it would do anything, they muse. 

One of them, with a head of ginger hair and eyes sharp as a knife, begins to approach; you tense, bringing the poker forward more, inhaling sharply and taking a step back— but that only garners a sharp growl from another, with pitch black hair and a gaze so threatening it renders you pliant; hesitantly, you meet the eyes of the man who stands before you, narrowed eyes taking you in with amusement. 

He reaches towards you— again you tense, flinching at the movement and weakly yelling at the wolf to stay back—! But it can only come out as a breathless whisper, your entire being rendered useless, instincts doing nothing but telling you that this is it; accept your fate, it tells you, weakening your muscles and sending off waves of fear so thick the room reeks of death and rot; your figure shrinks the moment he grabs your poker, ignoring your clearly empty warning as he lowers it forcefully, fighting easily against any strength you had left. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he smiles, baring his teeth that only makes your blood run cold— sharp canines, strong and in great condition to bite and chew even the toughest of meats— “We’ll take good care of you.”

A sharp growling impedes the man before you from closing in on you, from taking away what little space was left between you— the sound is loud and furious, making the three wolves before you turn immediately in search of the source; including you, the foreign sound making your knees buckle and the poker fall from your hands as you paralyze with fear. 

Standing in the doorway is a figure you remember quite well— the sight of him makes your eyes widen and you heart flicker a dim light of hope, watching the way he sends the three wolves before you a pointed glare, enough to make the two nearest to him avert their eyes the moment his gaze lands on them. 

“Beomgyu,” the wolf near you sneers, “what the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother answering the question; his eyes land on you, on your figure that visibly trembles with fear, nostrils flaring at the scent that radiates from you and fogs the room— and he growls. 

“Get out.” 

It’s a simple command given by the man— Beomgyu—  to the others, eyes filled with an unbridled rage that makes the others flinch; they’re confused, glancing to where you remain frozen before they’re turning back at the man, as though waiting for him to back down on his words— instead, he bares his teeth, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed with rage, and repeats himself. 

“I said, get. Out.”

Silence; you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears as you watch the two wolves glance at the man with the bright head of ginger hair— as though looking to him for their next move. The two remain in a standstill, refusing to look away from the other, as though silently communicating. And after what feels like eternity, the wolf near you scoffs, lips upturned in annoyance as he finally looks away— he turns back to you, eyes scanning your shaken figure, and he smiles the moment your eyes meet.

“Don’t expect any mercy from him.”

You’re sure you might be on the verge of fainting as you watch them all exit, one by one; tails practically tucked between their legs, only wolf to make a fuss being the orange-haired one from before; you watch the two of them bare their teeth and make comments you can’t quite pick up on, pressing yourself firmly against the wall and jumping the moment they snap warningly at each other— a threat to bite, the sight of their sharp fangs enough to have you retreating slowly to the exit of your backyard. 

The second his back is turned from you, watching the wolves retreat to the forest, is the second you make an attempt to escape— hurried steps leading you to the kitchen, walking backwards in order to keep an eye on him— your shaking hands remain pressed against the wall in an attempt to keep yourself upright, keen eyesight taking in any small movement from him, body alight with adrenaline as you wait for the moment you can book it. 

His ears, a dark auburn just like his hair, twitch; his head snaps over to where you stand, dilated eyes meeting yours in milliseconds. 

You’re turning around to make a run for it— the floorboards creak behind you from the very sound of Beomgyu running after you, a yelp leaving you involuntarily; your feet are falling harshly on the cool tile of your kitchen, but before you can so much as outstretch your hand and reach for the doorknob of the back exit, strong hands are wrapping around your middle and spinning you around, away from your last taste of freedom. 

“Please!” you cry out aimlessly, a pained groan falling from your lips as your back collides with the wood of your counter; you’re pinned into the very corner, tears pricking at your eyes and weak hands pressing against the strong chest of the wolf before you— your eyes remain glued to the floor, soft tail trembling with abandon and ears willing hopelessly to hide your face. 

“You’re running? After I just saved you?” is all you get in response, his voice gruff and genuine as he remains unfazed at the weak pushes against his chest; his arms cage you in, body impossibly close to yours as he looms over you, watching the way you cower and make yourself shrink with wide, interested eyes. “Why do you run from me, my flower?” 

The pet name makes your stomach lurch; a soft sob escapes you, eyes closing in defeat as your mind makes peace with your demise— your shoulders shake with every attempt of yours to breathe properly, every inhale only flooding your senses and clogging your mind with the scent of the wolf above you, like a thick smoke that burns your lungs and leaves your thoughts impaired.

Beomgyu is all but salivating at the sight of you; your soft, fragile body, the tremble of your limbs, your pure and fluffy ears that are pressed flat atop your head, hands subconsciously gripping onto his shirt in a feeble attempt to keep yourself upright— your heartbeat overwhelms him, quick and panicked just like your scent; it makes his brows pinch together and a confused pout form on his lips, the familiar, delicate flower no longer radiating from your figure.

“Are you scared of me?” he murmurs, ears twitching in curiosity as you remain silent; he leans down, willing to get close even after you continue to shrink away in response, curling into yourself and keeping your chin tucked in dutifully; his hand flies to your waist in attempts to prevent you from shifting away any further, rough claws digging in through your dress and making you jolt in surprise— a shaky breath leaves your lips, the wolf that continues to inch closer to you, cocking his head in fascination. His eyes all but burn through your skin. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, lips brushing against your temple as he speaks; you remain frozen, stiff, feeling the way he continues to wander down, nosing at you softly in search for a sign of that sweet, intoxicating smell you once gave off. 

“You’re safe with me— remember?”

Your voice remains stuck inside you— all you can muster is another shaky breath as you feel his lips brush against your jaw, wandering along until he’s at your ear— then he trails down, forcing your head to tilt as his nose runs a soft line along the column; a weak whimper falls from your parted lips the moment he presses down against your pulse point, feeling him inhale slowly before he presses a soft kiss against your sensitive neck— like an automatic reaction, warmth blooms from the spot, spreading through your body, your heart telling you to calm down— but you refuse, and though Beomgyu is able to smell the sweet vanilla and the flowers that blooms from his action, it all dies into one muddled mess that leaves him to huff frustratedly. 

His hands have begun to wander— large and warm, sharp claws scratching at your garments and running up your sides before he hugs you tight, pressing your figure flush against his— and as have his lips, pressing soft kisses against your scent gland repeatedly, in search of the scent that he was only granted a mere glimpse of— soft, careful kisses at first, listening to the way you whimper and cry against him, trembling hands balling up his shirt in your fists— only to feel himself grow more desperate, out of control, his lips parted and harsh as he presses his kisses against one of the weakest points in your body. 

Beomgyu’s nose is sharp, is able to pick up on even the slightest changes within your scent— so when he picks up on the warm, subtle twinge of vanilla that peeks through everything else, he’s unable to find himself exhibiting restraint. Warm and wet, you feel his tongue press against your skin, the sharp, accidental scratch of his fangs following after— and you gasp, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling above you as your mind finally processes what his intentions truly are, feeling your instincts take over soon after— the moment of clarity passes, and your vision fogs; your body melts against Beomgyu’s.

You’ve been sandwiched between the counter and Beomgyu’s body; even more so now that Beomgyu’s felt you submit to him, head lolling to the side and displaying your most fragile part to him, a smell of vanilla, warm and sweet like a pastry, filling his lugs soon after— you’re presenting yourself to him, eyes glassy and lips parted as you simply let out a shaky exhale. 

Your legs are parted with every attempt Beomgyu makes to get closer to you, feeling him stand in between them as he continues to cage you in, continues to kiss and lick along your exposed skin, huffing and sighing in satisfaction with every soft keen you let out in response, your mind and soul still convinced that your time has come to an end. 

From a distance, Soobin senses it; he sees the dim lights of your cottage, the door that is left ajar, crooked on its hinges— most of all, he’s able to pick up on the intoxicating sweetness that escapes from the cottage, the innocent jasmine that’s intertwined with the scent that travels with the wind— and his ears stand straight, keen senses straining to hear the soft sob that leaves your delicate lips— his body reacts before he can, and he runs straight to you. 

The sharp call of your name is all Soobin can get out before he stumbles to a stop at the kitchen doorway— his eyes remain wide and focused on the sight before him, body on edge and tail stiff as he grits his teeth in rage. 

Your doe eyes meet his instantly— they’re shining and incoherent, and Soobin wonders if you’re even conscious of where you are, of the way you whine out his name in the most fragile tone he’s ever heard. The rest of you is covered— you’ve been pressed tightly against the kitchen counter, back arching backwards due to the sheer pressure of the body that weighs you down; ragged clothing covers your own, the pink coat obscured by a white flowing, dirtied white button up, falling off the owner’s shoulder and pooling at his elbow— Soobin’s eyes follow the line of movement, taking in his arms disappear behind your waist, forcing your lower halves to be glued together, your dress bunched up at your thighs from the crude way they’ve been forced open. 

“Soobin,” you whine again, taking his attention as he watches a hand of yours appear from where they were caged in, outstretching shakily toward him before it falls limp, hanging over the arm that pulls you closer against him. 

Dark, long hair covers the face that is buried in your neck— ears of the same color adorn the top, twitching with interest at the sound before they stand forward— roughly, the head emerges from its hiding place, eyes blown open with nothing short of hunger; the wolf before Soobin bares his teeth and growls, hugging you tighter against him, stepping back and shielding you away from the dog’s view. 

Soobin doesn’t hesitate to mimic the other’s threats— he means every bit of it and more, face alight with rage and body poised in an aggressive stance— and though your face has been tucked into the wolf’s chest, though the arms that wrap around your body attempt to prevent you from being seen at all, Soobin is still able to catch glimpse of your tail that quivers with fear, of your figure that shakes pathetically from instinct. 

Loud, angry growls and spiked scents fill your senses and leaves you docile; Soobin’s sharp, strong pine mixes with Beomgyu’s thick, intoxicating smoke, painting the scene of a burning forest as they continue to warn the other, narrowed gazes and sharp canines creating yet another standstill. 

Beomgyu’s eyes catch onto Soobin’s restlessness with ease— and before he’s able to make a move, Beomgyu is manipulating your body once more, spinning you around and pressing your back firmly against him, feeling the way you follow his every command without a second thought— and when you present yourself to him for a second time from pure instinct, Beomgyu grins; his eyes lock with Soobin’s and his head cranes down, dangerously close to your scent gland that continues to release its tempting smell.

“Stay.” is all Beomgyu growls out, eyeing the way Soobin freezes immediately, wide eyes watching the way Beomgyu’s mouth opens, tongue lolling out lazily before it’s running slowly against your shoulder, gliding along until it stops dutifully against the joint of your neck, pressing down to feel your pulse— Soobin flinches, undoubtedly wanting to lunge forward, but is stopped again by the wicked smile Beomgyu sends him, sharp canines meticulously on display. 

You’re all left frozen— Beomgyu’s arm that has been thrown around your waist toys with the hem of your cute coat, the other that presses against your heart feeling the quick pounding against his palm— and he laughs, inching his hand up slowly until it’s around your neck, his index and thumb exuding little effort to keep your head upright, watching your eyes slowly meet Soobin’s.

“Any sudden moves,” Beomgyu begins again, eyes flickering down to your neck, watching the quick rise and fall of your chest with fascination, feeling the way your throat constricts with every swallow against his palm— and he smiles, looking back at Soobin and allowing his tongue to run over the top row of his teeth leisurely, “and she’s mine to claim.”

Silence; Soobin takes a moment to weigh his options, to inspect the scenery before him— the wolf means it, Soobin is quick to realize, seeing the way he all but drools over your exposed neck and faint figure— and he meets your eyes again, attempting to decipher what you may be thinking, only to realize that you’re not composed at all; you’ve been stripped down to nothing but your basic survival instincts, and yet it seems as though your brain has told you that it’s best to give up any fight you have left inside you.

Soobin feels his jaw ache from the way his teeth grit together angrily— and with a soft huff, he becomes the first to look away from Beomgyu entirely, turning his head in defeat and forcing his body to back down. 

“Good dog,” Beomgyu coos mockingly, grinning unabashedly at the sight of Soobin’s face twisting up in anger; he turns to you, placing a slow, lingering kiss on your cheek before he murmurs softly into your ear. “My flower, don’t you want to show him how perfect you are for me?” 

Beomgyu doesn’t expect a response from you; the way you whine and shift restlessly against him is enough, having already felt him rutting against you the moment he had you caged against the counter— and he continues to do so, even now, the hand on your throat forcing you to tilt your head, allowing him access to suck and bite on the clean canvas of your skin; your eyes flutter shut, and you’re left to rely on his strength to hold you upright, body rocking gently with every thrust that is delivered from the wolf behind you. 

“So sweet for me,” Beomgyu groans, his hands letting go of their respective places before they begin getting busy; your legs feel shaky and you’re left to watch as he undoes the ties of your coat, slipping it off before he reaches to bunch your thin skirt at your waist— you gasp softly, face heating up at the feeling of being so exposed, hands flying to pull down your skirt on instinct— but you’re granted no such reprieve, stilling immediately as a growl leaves Beomgyu’s lips at your action.

Soobin’s head is snapping back at the two of you at the sound of the threat— his eyes widen and he inhales sharply, a clear mistake that only makes Beomgyu grin— your scent, thick and progressively needier, clouds Soobin’s mind, clouds his judgment, unable to do anything more than stare at the way Beomgyu has you in his arms, canines still glittering under the soft lights of your home as a constant warning. 

“You smell it too,” Beomgyu speaks, his words less of a question and more of a fact— Soobin’s eyes dilate and his nostrils flare that moment Beomgyu’s lithe fingers begin to wander around the hem of your panties, feeling your thighs press together and your hands grip at his forearm shyly; from Soobin’s distance, he’s able to pick up on the tears that hang on your waterline, the way your lip quivers from the humiliation of being exposed so crudely. 

“Innocent thing…” Beomgyu murmurs, dipping down to swipe the pad of his middle finger across your slit, listening to the yelp that escapes your lips, feeling your body buckle against him— and sure enough, a spike of your scent follows after, like an addicting toxin that only fuels the desire of the two canines before you, “So tempting. So good.” 

You’re crying softly at the way he continues to tease you, overwhelmed by the foreign sensation, mouth parting in shock as his hand sneaks past the waistband of your panties; you feel as though shocks of electricity flow through you the moment he brushes against your clit, teasingly at first, only to begin circling it steadily soon after— and you can only moan and whine for more, unknowingly bucking your hips forward in search for something else that can satisfy you. 

When your eyes meet Soobin’s, you can only feel a hot wave of shame flow through you— his expression is unreadable; is he embarrassed of you? Disgusted, ashamed that you have already given in to the simplest threats? You’re not remotely near as strong as he is, you defend yourself mentally, you’re sure that it was either this or— or…

“You filthy mutt,” Beomgyu spits out beside you, laughing softly at the way Soobin has yet to take his eyes off you, eyes narrowed meanly and brows tugged together, an expression that could be easily read as rage— but Beomgyu knows better, watching as the said man jumps at the sudden sound of the other’s voice, gaze hardening the moment they lock eyes; Beomgyu huffs out another mocking laugh. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Beomgyu asks, as though he were sharing a secret— behind you, you feel his hips buck against you, able to feel the hardness of his cock as he uses his free hand to press just below your navel, forcing you back on him— and you gasp, his ministrations against your clit never ceasing as he continues to fuck against you slowly, groaning breathlessly at the feeling of your warm body against him; Beomgyu’s eyes never leave Soobin’s, however, pupils filled with nothing but a mocking joy as he continues breathlessly.

“You want her.”

Another wave of arousal floods though you at his words, filling the room and reaching the two men before you with ease; you’re able to see and feel the way their chests rise slowly, the way they take in your essence before letting out pleased sighs, their own strong, heady scents filling your senses as you simply flutter your eyes shut and whine with need.

“No need to deny it,” Beomgyu grins, leaning his head against yours fondly, middle finger abandoning your clit to tease your entrance, your mouth falling open and hips twitching in surprise at the feeling— the man behind you simply watches with amusement, watches the way you meet Soobin’s gaze shyly, body heated up with embarrassment as you can only let out pathetic cries and breathless gasps with every new stimulation— and Beomgyu’s finger enters you slowly, meticulously, angling himself just right; your vision is fogging at the stretch, hands gripping onto the strong forearm that helps keep your upright as you merely beg for more. 

“I’m sure she’d love to give you a show,” he continues, palm pressing against your clit, other hand guiding your hips to roll steadily against his hand— he chuckles softly at the way you’re pliant for him, following his every command without a second thought, “filthy, greedy thing.” 

Though Beomgyu directs those comments at you with a voice of acid-like hatred, the way he stares at you is anything but; his eyes are just as keen as the rest of him, willing to not miss a single reaction you make for him, from the way your voice breaks with need to the way your fingers twitch helplessly against his skin— his body buzzes with a desperate energy, his cock pulsing and begging to be inside you the longer he feels you rock helplessly against him— lucky for him, you seem to be getting just as desperate. 

“Get your filthy hands off her,” Soobin seethes, though he’s unable to make a move to get you away— a single twitch of his tail enough to garner a harsh sneer from Beomgyu, teeth snapping together in warning— the idea of having you claimed, taken, and possibly killed by the monstrosity that holds you hostage is enough to keep Soobin complacent for now, undoubtedly waiting for the moment the wolf no longer has easy access to such a vital part of you to make his move.

Beomgyu doesn’t heed the other’s comment— if anything, he laughs, prodding a second finger at your entrance, forcing the other to listen to the way you perk up and cry in panic, poor inexperienced body not used to the stretch, to the curve of his fingers as he presses against your soaking, tightening walls, calloused skin making you shiver as he forces you to grind against him, to fuck yourself on his fingers. 

“Hmm? Don’t touch her?” Beomgyu asks, curious fingers stretching you open slowly, grinning at the way you throw your head back against his shoulder and whine, a hand slapping over the arm that currently fucks your slowly, pressing against it in feeble attempts of getting more, “What, does it upset you that you won’t be getting to her first?” 

With a particularly calculated thrust of Beomgyu’s fingers, you’re jolting up and letting out a broken moan; he proceeds to continue to abuse the weak spot within you cruelly, watching with an amused gaze as you continue to fall apart against him like clockwork. You’re getting wound up quite quickly, not used to the intense feeling of pleasure being provided to you— and Beomgyu takes in the sight eagerly, smiling in amusement before he’s stopping abruptly, watching your head hang and your chest heave from the sudden loss of stimulation. 

“Does it anger you?” his fingers slide out from your cunt slowly; you twitch at the feeling of emptiness, barely processing the way his hand slowly snakes its way back up, grabbing at your neck and forcing you to look forward again— his fingers, covered in your arousal, prod at your mouth, and in your dumbed state, you can only follow his commands and part your lips dutifully; your tongue circles around his digits and your lips close around them, flushed face painting a lewd scene that only makes Soobin tense; beside you, Beomgyu smiles wickedly. 

“Knowing that you’re about to watch her get fucked open— get knotted good— by a wolf?” 

Soobin thinks he might be seeing red at this point; his hands remain by his side, closed into a tight fist that has his nails threatening to break through his skin— but that’s the least of his worries, especially with the way your ears twitch and your body perks up at the wolf’s words— both of the men are able to pick up on your reaction with ease, one clearly much happier than the other at the sight. 

“You know, if you behave, I might give you a turn.” Beomgyu looks over at you, chuckling softly before he removes his fingers from your mouth, only to grab at your face and turn it roughly to look at him; his fingers dig into your cheeks and his forehead presses against yours, taking one glance at your hazy expression before he’s cooing softly. “I’m sure you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

All you can do is muster a broken whine in response. 

Beomgyu is letting go of your face with a soft chuckle; slowly, you muster the courage to look forward once more, inevitably meeting Soobin’s gaze as a result— his expression is unreadable, and it makes your knees feel weak— your mind races to try and decipher what he may be thinking about, left unaware of the way Beomgyu has let go of your dress, letting the skirt fall slowly over your front as he busies himself in lifting it from the back instead, allowing himself access and grazing your skin curiously; it is only then that you’re coming back to your senses, heart rate picking up with a panic and body bristling the moment you feel the wolf’s hands wandering across the swell of your ass, muttering soft praise that doesn’t quite reach you— a firm hand grabs at your waist, keeping you in place the moment you tried to shift away from him shyly, tried to cover yourself with a weak protests that only garnered yet another growl; with wide eyes, you looked to Soobin, unaware of the helplessness that coated your glassy pupils. 

“Soobin,” you cry yet again, blood growing cold at the way he simply seems to stand and watch; his gaze seems to have wandered, seems to have been following Beomgyu’s every action, adam’s apple bobbing at the sudden sound of impact that filled the room, the sound of your yelp followed by the sight of your pathetic hands attempting to swat Beomgyu away, easily overpowered the moment the wolf gathers your wrists in his tight hold and scolds you to stay still, his claws digging threateningly into the soft skin— and again, your head whips back around to look at Soobin, ignoring the keen stance of his ears and the slow, interested sway of his tail as you simply call out to him again, “Soobin, please…”

You’re not sure what you’re begging for any more. All you know now is the feeling of Beomgyu’s broad chest pressed against yours, the muddy feeling of your brain as smoke fills your lungs, allowing your head to loll back against his shoulder, allowing your hips to begin to grind back against the hard bulge that has begun to tease you, shivering softly at the way Beomgyu’s head remains buried in your shoulder, pulling you back against him firmly— you barely register the way your voice whines in protest the moment you feel his lips pull away from your delicate skin, abandoning the gentle kisses and sucks to sneer triumphantly, his low voice a half-hearted replica of yours as he proceeds to parrot your words softly. 

“Soobin…” Beomgyu sing-songs, reaching his free hand down to tug at the waistband of your panties, soaked through with arousal that leaves your inner thighs shining pathetically; the said man is snapped out of his trance immediately, enticed gaze hardening the second his eyes find Beomgyu, chin perched on your shoulder leisurely as he continues to tug your panties down, feeling the way they slip down your hips ever-so slowly, “Soobin, come here.”

When Soobin refuses, Beomgyu scoffs— though, he doesn’t seem to be surprised in the slightest. 

“Come on Soobin,” Beomgyu repeats again, softly this time, eyes half-lidded as his mouth dips down to kiss your skin; right at your scent gland, tongue darting out before his eyes dart up to lock eyes with Soobin— you can feel goosebumps form on your skin as Beomgyu laughs breathily, mouth still open as he proceeds to nip at the spot gently; not enough to break skin, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squeal and jolt in surprise. Soobin flinches. 

“Come.”

It takes a pleading look from your tear-brimmed eyes for him to move. A slow, hesitant step first, pausing momentarily to gauge Beomgyu’s reaction— the said man quirks a brow in amusement, a silent encouragement to continue— and Soobin finally finds himself looming over the two of you, eyes dark and narrowed as he watches you reach out for him with a trembling hand— curling his shirt into your fists, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his chest, body unintentionally arched forward and left in the perfect position for the man behind you— Beomgyu simply coos softly at the action, a false sense of endearment that makes Soobin’s teeth grit with rage; when their eyes meet, the wolf simply smiles. 

“Kiss her,” Beomgyu says, the words almost inaudible from how softly they were uttered— but then he’s grabbing at your head and forcing you to look back up, ignoring the sound of protest you make and holding you up by your jaw as he tilts your head to look at Soobin, fingers squeezing your cheeks and forcing them into a soft pout, “Go on. She’s dying for you to touch her.”

Beomgyu speaks as though he were the one in control of your body and mind— and perhaps he is, you find yourself thinking, teary eyes unable to communicate anything more than want as you feel your panties slowly dragging down your thighs, the wolf behind you hissing softly at the sight of the string of arousal that sticks to the fabric, your slick cunt tightening around nothing in response— Beomgyu’s fingers find themselves teasing your entrance again, three this time, dipping in and out of your cunt, stretching you yet leaving you craving for more.

“I…” Soobin breathes out, reaching out slowly for your face; Beomgyu’s rough hand retreats, and it’s replaced by Soobin’s large, gentle ones that cup your face and stroke your cheekbones, watching the way your eyes flutter up to look at him, tears clinging to your lashes like crystals; his eyes follow the path one makes as it falls, thumb wiping it away softly as he finds himself leaning closer, watches the way your lids fall and leave your eyes hazy and obedient.

This is it, Soobin realizes, eyes flickering back to where Beomgyu continues to tease you, much too lost in the sight of your cunt trying desperately to suck in his nimble fingers to pay much attention to the two of you, this is his chance— he can save you. 

You seem to catch onto Soobin’s calculative gaze quite quickly this time— and your heart flutters with a slight hope, your chest falling in quick, shallow breaths as your hands tighten against the fabric of his shirt— his eyes flicker back to yours from the action, taking in the way they hold that innocent light of yours he’s always adored— and his heart breaks. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

There’s nothing you can say to that; his lips are on yours before you can so much as let out another breath. They’re soft, hesitant, as though you could shatter if he touched you wrong. His hands shake slightly as he holds your face close to his, feels the way your mouth remains frozen for a second, only reciprocating once you’ve felt the soft pass of his tongue against you— and your overwhelmed mind blanks entirely. For the final time tonight, you submit. 

The kiss is slow, it’s deepening out of your control, and it’s everything you imagined many moons ago, when you first began to feel a spark of desire for the man before you— when you swooned and flustered at the comfort you found in him, the warm feeling that always settled in your chest when he was next to you, knowing you could always go to him for protection. 

So as you feel his hold on you become firmer, feel the way he sighs against your mouth with no intentions to let you go soon, you wonder what it is you feel now— trapped between the two canines, lungs burning and and mouth left open as you allow Soobin to venture inside, not allowed any reprieve from the man who keeps you close, a soft groan leaving your lips as your sensitive ears pick up on foreign, slick sounds behind you, hisses and sighs of pleasure from another— because the feeling that pools in your stomach isn’t remotely reminiscent of the gentle, delicate warmth you always felt around Soobin; it’s hotter, angrier, greedier— it begs to be satiated and throws away the last good sense of judgment you had within you. 

“Soobin— oh god, Soobin—” you hiccup suddenly, finally able to escape from the said man’s mouth that seems to chase endlessly after yours; even now, you still can’t help but cry for him, your body unprepared for the sudden feeling of a cockhead swiping at your slit, the wet noises that arise from the sheer arousal that continues to leak out of you. You cry and you beg with hot shame burning at your skin, unsure of whether you plead for mercy or for more— your body arches and your hips seek for more, cunt throbbing at the feeling of Beomgyu’s tip pressing at your entrance, his rough hands rubbing circles along your ass absentmindedly, but your heart twists and makes a thick lump build in your throat, wishing nothing more than to be experiencing this all differently, in the comfort of your room and in the secure, warm embrace of the man in front of you— you wish for something more intimate, something as gentle as the love you felt. 

But all Soobin does is watch. He strokes your hair with a slow hand and cups your cheek fondly, presses a lingering kiss to your forehead before wandering down to press another at the tip of your nose— and he soaks up the pitiful sounds that make your voice break, feeling your hands attempt to steady themselves against him as Beomgyu begins to enter you; slowly, salivating at the way he feels your walls stretch around him, struggling to adjust to merely the tip— he stares down at your dripping pussy with a parted mouth, letting out a slow breath at the sight of your legs that threaten to buckle and your fluffy tail that goes wild with every inch he eases in— and he finds himself having to take deep breaths to not take you as he wants then and there.

“It’s okay. I know, I know— I’m right here, I’m right here with you,” Soobin murmurs against your skin, placing slow kisses along your jaw, allowing you to duck into the crook of his neck for solace— and he smooths your hair as he feels you nuzzle into him, eyes hooking onto the sight over your shoulder of Beomgyu entering you, the feeling of his hips flush against your ass bringing about another shuddered sigh from your lips, nails digging into Soobin’s chest as you attempt to overcome the new sensations. 

“I got you, don’t worry my doll,” Soobin utters, a hand going to place itself on top of your own, intertwining his fingers with yours before he begins to weigh it down, to guide it down his chest— he lets out a shaky sigh, feeling you cry and squirm against him, “It’s okay… just relax and you’ll feel good, okay?” 

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” Soobin coos against your temple, eyes fluttering shut as he feels you nod against his shoulder, feels the way your hand has successfully breached past his underwear, pants already undone and still guided by his much larger hand as he brings you to palm him slowly, wrapping your shaky fingers around his length; you’re hesitant, unsure of your actions as you allow Soobin to show you what to do— though, you don’t think your brain has truly processed what he’s doing with you yet, preoccupied instead by the thick smoke along with another smell that leaves you feeling lightheaded, along with the feeling of hands groping and smoothing over your skin as a heavy cock continues to twitch inside you. 

Beomgyu isn’t quite fond by your sudden shift of attention; his lips remain upturned in distaste, watching intently as Soobin continues to use you however he likes, your face that remains hidden in his neck directly able to smell the calming, dizzying scent Soobin exudes, placating you and dumbing you down to nothing but a fuckdoll for him— his eyes trail down to where he has you jerking him off slowly, Soobin’s lips pressing kisses to the top of your head as he continues to murmur soft praises that have you melting against him— an unfamiliar, hot streak of rage courses through Beomgyu’s system at the sight. 

“So ungrateful,” Beomgyu scolds suddenly, reaching forward to grab a fistful of your hair and bring you back— he’s forceful, uncaring of the way you protest, an arm that’s wrapped around your stomach pressing you flush against him as he forces the two of you to move— and you’re left bent over the counter, face pressed against the wood and wrists secured behind your back as Beomgyu bunches the skirt of your dress at your hips and bottoms out inside you once again; you hiss at the feeling, looking to the side to see that Soobin is unfazed by the action— if anything, his eyes cloud with lust at the scene before him, taking in the way you’re stuffed full and arched prettily with a gulp. 

“Why won’t you pay attention to me?” Beomgyu asks breathlessly, looking down at your pliant figure with blown out eyes, tail whipping side to side in anger as he catches the way your gaze still seeks out Soobin’s, eyes unknowingly pleading for reassurance— and he growls, low and heavy in his throat, catching the attention of both of you successfully— but he only cares to have your eyes on him, fully engrossed in the way your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back the moment he ruts into you with rough, slow thrusts. 

“Look at me,” Beomgyu groans, pulling out slowly as he speaks, all the way out until the tip of his cock is the only thing catching at your entrance. You’re squirming, trying to move your hips back against him, but the brutal hold Beomgyu has on you keeps you in place; ears pressed flat against your head, you look over your shoulder, back at the wolf who continues to fuck his tip into you with subtle thrusts, sneering at your glassy eyes that continue to look at him with a jarring innocence. 

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking into you oh so slowly, filling you up and laughing cruelly at the way your hands scramble to hold onto something for stability, for a simple comfort Beomgyu denies, “Eyes on me.” 

Beomgyu fucks you to prove a point; he fucks you so your eyes roll back and your mouth spills moans and whines dumbly, cock filling you to the brim and stretching you out in a way you never knew was possible— the sounds are lewd and has your skin burning, slick, wet sounds of skin against skin filling up the room and mixing along with your cries of pleasure. Beomgyu doesn’t seem to be doing any better than you, transfixed entirely on the sight of your cunt sucking him in eagerly, dripping with slick that makes his cock shine and falls to the floor in a mess, of your ass that ripples with every smack of his hips against you— this is all so new to you, he can tell, your body buzzing with an insatiable need that turns you into nothing more than a cock-hungry whore, your tail wiggling desperately with every harsh thrust of his, as though hypnotizing him to keep going.

The sight of you— a drooling, crying, moaning mess— is the polar opposite of your sweet, naive self, your trusting self that got you into this situation in the first place— and it makes Soobin’s cock twitch with raw lust, the spectacle of you becoming ruined so easily something he never thought he’d witness; such a pure thing, Soobin always felt as though you needed to be treated like glass— but Beomgyu is more than willing to prove that’s not the case with you, growling pure filth at you as he continues to fuck you into the counter, watching the way he hovers over you, practically caging you in with his body, as though wishing for the two of you to become one. And just like before, Soobin watches. He stands to the side and listens to every sweet mewl of yours attentively— after all, he’ll get his hands on you soon enough.

“Tight little cunt— fuckin’ takes me so well,” Beomgyu murmurs into your ear, panting and groaning at the way you tighten around him, “such a good girl for me— shit, you like that? Like it when I talk nice to you?”

Beomgyu is quick to catch onto every little reaction of yours, including the way you tighten hopelessly around him every time he sings soft praises into your ears; it makes you want to hide your face in shame and deny his questions, but you barely get a chance to speak with the way he fucks you— fat cock stretching you out, leaving you speechless as he continues to pound into you firmly, sloppy mouth nipping and marking all over your neck; feeling him on your shoulders and back, canines brutishly ripping at your clothes to get more access to your innocent skin, feeling the way your walls squeeze with every scratch of his sharp teeth against you, eager to get his lips onto any part of you he can. 

“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you’re— shit– you’re squeezing me so tight, can barely fuck you,” he rambles off, hand letting go of your wrists so he can grab your hips and pull you back onto him— you’re wailing at the feeling, hands failing to stabilize you as you hold onto the counter, eyes screwed shut as you babble at Beomgyu to slow down— but of course, he doesn’t listen, too caught up in the feeling of you to pay any attention, “Oh, are you close, sweet thing? I can feel you— can feel you getting closer.”

“Do you wanna cum?” He asks you in that same, sweet voice laced with faux pity, smiling unabashedly at the way you immediately nod in response, giving in to his brutal pace, “tell me how bad you want it then.” 

“Please… please let me…” you trail off, unable to communicate properly with the way Beomgyu continues to fuck you, not granting you any mercy as he watches you struggle, “need– need t’cum, want it, feels so good.” 

Beomgyu laughs, the sound labored and breathy from the way you clench around him throughout it; he finds himself glancing over to where Soobin continues to watch, the sight of him focused entirely on your figure making him sneer— his eyes are hypnotized by you and his ears twitch at every weak word that spills from your mouth, lips parted as he all but drools for you— the drastic contrast in character has Beomgyu’s lips twitching in amusement, wondering just where that overprotective bodyguard of yours has gone.

“Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” he mocks, watching as your bowed head nods instantly; he huffs, glancing back at Soobin before he coos softly at you, “Who’s making you feel so nice? Tell me, pretty thing.”

The sudden mention of the pet name is enough to set you off unexpectedly; your mind goes blank entirely, save for a single thought that continues to roll of your tongue like a mantra: 

“Beomgyu,” you cry, sobs wracking at your body from the intense feeling, your voice interrupted with loud, uncontrollable moans, “You— it’s you– Beomgyu— please, please— too much…!”

Beomgyu continues to fuck you until your legs tremble and your body weight is placed entirely on the counter, hips held up entirely by the strength of the man behind you as he finally heeds your pleas; he slows until he’s bottomed out inside you, feeling the way your walls continue to pulse as you whimper quietly at the sensitivity— such a touchy thing, Beomgyu muses to himself, looking down at your messy cunt and feeling the way his cock twitches, still in need to fill you up properly.

“Can’t take anymore?” Beomgyu asks apathetically— and though you weakly let out a sound of affirmation, you can tell he doesn’t really care to hear your answer; not with the way he strokes at your skin in fascination, wandering hand pulling at the base of your tail and watching you squeal in surprise, body arching in an attempt to get away— you all but slump into a pool of overstimulation once he finally lets you go, foggy mind barely able to pick up the way he tsks. 

“Don’t lie— you can, I’m sure you can,” Beomgyu tuts, watching with amusement as you pout and petulantly shake your head, “you’re a good girl, you can take whatever we give you.” 

You don’t seem to process the meaning of his words to a full extent— you’re too far gone to do so, body turned weak as you continue to try and stabilize yourself, chest heaving with every breath you take. But it doesn’t matter if you’ve caught on to what’s happening around you, your every movement taken care of by the two men that cage you in— your shudder at the feeling of Beomgyu pulling out of you, the slick sound drowned out by the crude praises Beomgyu growls; two, strong hands are pulling you up next, proceeding to maneuver you so you sit on the counter— Soobin stands between your legs, looking at you with eyes filled with want and an undeniable pity; he takes in your worn, marked and messy figure intently, watching as his eyes linger on the rips of your dress and the marks all around your shoulders. His hands go up to the area, and your eyes flutter shut, body craving to be covered, to be coddled and tidied. 

“Such a perfect doll for me,” Soobin sighs out, beginning to tug down at what’s left of the material, watching the way you shudder and open your eyes with a slight shock— a whine bubble up at the back of your throat, but you can’t really find the strength to protest the way you’re slowly left undressed before the two pairs of hungry eyes before you, no longer able to find the energy to feel embarrassment from being left bare— Soobin’s voice is as gentle as his movements, feeling him lift your hips so he can slide the dress off you properly; it wasn’t very hard to do anyway, the fabric practically hanging together by a single thread, “It’s alright… I’ve got you.” 

When Soobin wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you off the counter, you can only wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean your forehead on his shoulder, seeking for more of the scent that calms you down and leaves you mindless; your grip tightens the moment you feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he sighs out shakily at the feeling of your sensitive walls fluttering at the feeling— he’s stretching you out slowly, filling you up, and all you can do is bury your head into his neck and try to calm your breathing, taking in the thick sage that fills your senses.

Soobin stays buried deep inside you for a moment, cursing at the tight embrace of your heat around him; you allow yourself to relax— it doesn’t last long though, body jolting with shocks as you feel another head poking at your already stuffed cunt. 

“Wait— wait– I can’t— too full, it won’t fit…!” you cry out, looking at Soobin in a panic; a broad chest pressed firmly against your back, familiar lips pressing a chaste kiss to your shoulder— Soobin’s eyes are dark as he takes you in, ears forward and twitching at your pleas; softly, he shakes his head in reassurance.

“You can,” is all Soobin murmurs, watching your face twist as Beomgyu begins to push into you— little by little, stretching you past your limits, resting his chin on your shoulder and shutting his eyes at the sensitive feeling— tears stream down your cheeks freely, soft hiccups escaping you as Beomgyu’s hips press flush against you from behind; Soobin reaches up to caress your head, to pet gently at your ears, and smiles. “See? You’re doing so well. You can take it.”

You shake your head to refute his claims— but it’s not as though that would change the way they’ve begun to slowly pull out, setting their individual paces that inevitably work together, leaving you full no matter what— and it has your head falling back, mouth falling open dumbly as they begin to fuck you; slowly at first, gently, only because your poor cunt has yet to adjust to the size of them. But once they feel the way you leak onto them, the way your cunt begins to clench as their tips ram into places that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, they begin to find the confidence to use you how they want. 

Eventually, you’re nothing but putty in their arms; weakly grabbing onto anything you can for support, one finding a firm grip onto Soobin’s shoulder as the other ventured to tangle itself in Beomgyu’s hair— the said man continues to keep his head buried in your neck, lips having a mind of their own as he continues to nose at your scent gland; the action of him nuzzling against it, of him scenting you, is enough to have you a whining mess, fingers tugging at his hair desperately; it only serves to have him fuck into you harder, hips snapping ruthlessly against yours and rough groans escaping him from the pleasure. 

“Fuck, such a good cunt, so tight— ah,” Soobin groans, watching as your eyes flutter open to look at him, teary and catching the moonlight that shines down through the window; he cups your cheek, stroking at your cheekbone fondly as he speaks, “so pretty… you’re so pretty, all I’ve ever wanted— god, you’re perfect.”

The look of adoration Soobin gives you isn’t lost on you entirely— but there’s something else that rears its head within his gaze, hungry and desperate, threatening to swallow you whole— and you realize that, for the first time ever, Soobin seems to be staring at you as though you were nothing but prey; something for him to claim and own. 

But it seems as though he’s not the only one who possesses those particular feelings— Beomgyu’s pace seems to be growing erratic behind you, knocking you forward against Soobin’s chest and leaving you to wail at the feeling of his cock ruthlessly pounding into you, uncaring of the rhythm the other has set in place; he mumbles gruff words against your neck, but it’s all muffled and interrupted by huffed out moans he lets out in between— but your poor cunt seems to catch onto what he might be saying quite clearly. 

“C-close, oh shit, ‘m so close,” Beomgyu says, finally perking up from his place in the crook of your neck to speak directly into your ear, placing sloppy kisses at your jaw as he does, “Ah, d’you feel that? Yeah? Want me to cum inside you?”

You know what his question really entails— you know what your answer should be. But your body simply trembles and your brain short circuits at the thought, traitorous to the last bits of reasoning within you as you dumbly nod at his request; he lets out a moan at the sight. 

“Yeah, you do, don’t you? Want my knot, wanna be bred— ffffuck, I’ll give it to you, I’ll knot you, make you mine,” his every movement has become erratic; Soobin finds it hard to continue fucking you, undeniably sensitive to the harsh pace the other has set— but Beomgyu doesn’t care, leaning in close to your ear to whisper his next words. 

“I’ll claim you,” he breathes out, enjoying the way your little tail thrashes against him at the sound, panic filling your tone for a second before you melt into the idea, too fucked out to be able to refuse anymore— if anything, you tighten like a vice around the two, bringing out sensitive sounds from the two; Beomgyu continues to ramble into your ear, much bolder now that he’s taken control of the situation. 

“You want it— oh fuck, yeah, you’ll make such a pretty mate, all for me,” he growls, his words slipping to the other’s ears and alerting him, his eyes widening yet his pace not stopping, “all mine— mine, mine mine— o-oh, shit—!”

It all happens so fast. The swelling of a knot inside you, stretching you out to the point where you find yourself sobbing, pawing at whatever you can and begging for them to slow down, to be gentle— hot cum fills you, your cunt only able to handle so much as Soobin’s cock is pushed out, just enough so his own knot doesn’t catch, his orgasm triggering immediately after— it’s so much, yet it’s not enough, your whole being pulsing with desire for the final thing to push you to the edge— and it comes in the form of sharp canines digging deep into your neck. 

The right side of your neck stings— then, your left. Two sets of teeth have found their home within your skin, the last of your freedom stripped away as your orgasm swallows you whole— you tremble and you twitch within their hold, cunt filled and leaking with their cum, unable to do anything more than lie within their embrace and take what they give you. 

Your eyes feel heavy; you will yourself to stay awake, but your vision becomes spotted within moments— for the first time in a while, your mind is able to find peace.

 ≪ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫  

When you finally wake, you find yourself surrounded by warmth; with heavy blankets over your figure, you’re able to recognize the place as your room. You attempt to look around, but are immediately met with a searing pain— the night’s events flood through your mind all at once, and suddenly, you’re able to sense the presence of two others next to you; their arms wrap around you and they remain glued to your side, one embrace much more familiar than the other. 

Through your line of sight, you’re able to spot the moon that peaks through your window, hovering just above the dark, looming canopy of the forest. You stare and you stare, unsure of what to make of everything— of what you’re feeling, of the bodies that shift beside you, pulling you closer to them, as though it could never be enough. 

Your eyes sting, and after a second, you find yourself mourning. Mourning for your loss of freedom, for the overwhelming amount of sensations you were put through, and for this complex, dangerous situation you’ve been thrust into. 

You were warned of the forest; you were warned that nothing good came from venturing within. 

But even then, nothing could have saved you from the creatures that roamed beyond.

[ficscollection]

been thinking about older step brother yeonjun who knows you're head over heels for him, who hears you moan his name through the thin walls when you masturbate at night, finally convinces you to have sex with him when you're watching a movie alone, and he knows it's wrong, and you know it's wrong, but it's too good to stop, even when you hear your parents getting home, so now you just have to keep quiet

tw: stepcest. dubcon, smut, mdni.

omfg i’ve been keeping this a secret for months but you literally managed to hit one of my wips right on the nose. who sent you here!!!! get out of my head !!!!

but oh dear... older stepbrother!yeonjun who is so quick to pick up on your attraction to him. thinks it's so cute that you try your hardest to hide it, play along with this whole "new family" thing every dinner-- listening intently as he talks about how life is while he's away at college, attending some big shot university while you chose to stay back home; it's what makes these moments with you all the better, knowing that despite barely being here, he still has you wrapped around his finger.

your parents having a romantic night out while the two of you stay at home, only to have yeonjun ask to watch a movie with you-- "I haven't hung out with you in so long," he'd say, "can't I just hang with my baby sis for a bit?"

smiles at the way you prickle at the term sis, knowing that you think of him as anything but family— he’s heard it, if those thin walls of yours are any proof— but you let him in your room anyway, letting him get comfortable in your bed as you settle down and leave space between the two of you; yeonjun makes sure that doesn't last.

it's so, so hard to resist; he's got you good, knows that you couldn't care less about the movie when he's hovering over you like this, whispering into your ear that "it's alright, no one has to know— just this once, hmm? please?" letting his hand wander between your thighs, feeling the way they open on instinct— warm cunt already dripping for him beneath that skirt you’re wearing, the one that you swore you wore because it was “comfortable”. no other reason.

he watches your eyes light up with shame, skin heated and flustered as you pretend to ignore his fingers that pump into you so nicely, his lips that press soft kisses on the column of your neck, whispering soft praises into your ear— but you can’t fool him, because your need is plastered all over your face; it shows in your hips that buck and grind against his palm, needy clit pressing against his hand and drawing soft whimpers from your lips— and he knows that you couldn’t care less about the movie. it’s not like you could even hear it over the wet, filthy squelches of his fingers slamming into your cunt.

you said you wouldn’t— you couldn’t, it was going too far— and yet you still find yourself pressed into the mattress, breathing helplessly against yeonjun’s pouty lips that make out with yours, sly tongue and teeth playing your mouth in ways you could never comprehend, head foggy and dazed as you take everything he gives you; hips rolling into you as his cock hits you so nice and deep, angling his hips to hit that spot that has you trembling and jolting against him, soft whimpers swallowed into his mouth, eating you up until he’s pulling away to mumble against your lips.

“so pretty— so cute, been wantin’ to have you like this for forever,” groaning at the way you wrap your leg around him, hands on his back pushing him forward so his body’s pressed against yours, “no one’s gonna know, okay? just between us— just for us to know…”

the dread and fear that paralyzes you when you hear the front door open downstairs isn’t matched by yeonjun— while you stiffen and press your hands against his chest, trying to push him away with frantic gasps and tears in your eyes— “oh my god, oh my god, get out!”— yeonjun merely shushes you and pulls you closer; his nails dig into your thigh and he wraps it tighter against him.

“it’s okay.”

“they’re gonna hear us—”

“no they’re not, it’s okay—”

“they’re gonna find out— please, go, i can’t, we can’t be seen like this—”

yeonjun puts his weight fully against you, pressing you into the mattress and flushing the air out your lungs— he places a hand on your mouth, dark eyes glaring sternly.

“be quiet, and they won’t find out.”

you stare at him with those wide, glistening eyes of yours, heart about to pound out of your chest— he gives you a fond smile.

“okay?”

a moment passes, and you gulp— you can feel his cock twitching desperately inside you, the commotion of your parents settling down in the living room downstairs—

and you nod.

[ficscollection]

— nudes?! (k.th) ♡

pairing: kang taehyun x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1.4k warnings: mention/description of reader's nudes, mention of reader in lingerie, implication of sexy time at the end, tyun gets hard and is v clear abt what he wants, they’re both horny asf synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| yeonjun ver. | soobin ver. | beomgyu ver. | kai ver. (coming 3/24) |

masterlist

──────────────────────

taehyun considers you one of the bros.

right up there along with his 4 other crazy best friends, you fit right in, no sideways feelings to worry about and endless wingman opportunities to gain — hell, he even forgets sometimes that you've got a pair of boobs under there somewhere.

and all of this, of course, is completely and absolutely:

not true.

it's exactly what you seem to think in that pretty little head of yours, though, as taehyun often observes; it's quite cute actually, he thinks.

"out of all the guys i could like, why does it have to be the one guy in my life who would draft me onto his football team if he had one?" he'd overheard you complaining to yeonjun one day.

(sorry, but trust me, sweetheart - you wouldn't even make it past tryouts, he'd thought afterwards upon fighting back a laugh and an endeared little grin.)

oh, if only you knew.

if only you knew the steady breaths he has to take whenever you stand so temptingly close to him; or how many filthy images he has to shake out of his mind when he's helping you with your workouts; or that annoying little shadow called jealousy that he has to push down when you smile so sweetly at a man that isn't him.

taehyun is a man of self control, and a man who would do anything for the people that he loves — which means that no matter how much he'd enjoy changing your mind about what exactly you assume he perceives you as, he knows for the sake of your friendship that he can't.

and so he doesn't.

but oh, you wish that he would.

taehyun is quite good at keeping his feelings in check, to the point where you're convinced at this point that if you were to strut naked across the room in front of him, he wouldn't even pay you any mind;

pft, you scoff at your own silly thought, as if something so ridiculous would ever happen. (…well....)

today you've decided that you're getting real tired of your own pining and yearning and eyes that shoot hearts like confetti every time your best friend walks into the room —

you pout at the sight of yourself reflected on the open camera screen of your phone as the self-timer counts down yet again. this has become quite the routine of yours.

body bare save for the lacy lingerie that doesn’t cover much of anything as you perch at the edge of your bed, posing so prettily, so sensually, just the way you imagine taehyun would like; just more photos to add to the naughty little album in your camera roll that you wish you could send to him but know that you never will.

there was a time where you used to try testing the waters a bit, some flirting here, a fleeting touch or two there. but you'd quickly learned how pointless it was. after all, a brick wall is never gonna flirt back.

you sigh. it's time to get going anyway; speak of the devil, he'll be here to pick you up in 20 minutes.

~

taehyun can see in his peripheral the way you keep glancing at him from the passenger seat of his car.

as usual, he maintains an even expression. "excited to see me or something?"

his lips quirk as you jump in your seat a little, quickly looking forwards and crossing your arms as you grumble, "you wish. i just saw you like two days ago."

he merely hums in acknowledgment, which gets you even more grumbly — ("no fair that i can never get a reaction out of you! why is it always me?!" you'd wailed in defeat one time after a failed attempt to get him back, your cheeks flushed pink and pretty).

taehyun smiles.

when he soon pulls up outside your friend's apartment building that you’d needed to drop something off at first on the way to yeonjun’s, he decides to be nice as he asks,

"where was that new cat café you wanted to go to? we can stop there before meeting the guys."

bingo. the smile that lights up your face is exactly what he was looking for as your previous pout melts away and you gasp, "really?! okay wait, i took a screenshot of their instagram page the other day, you can check and put the address in! i'll be super super quick!"

he bites back a laugh as you shove your phone into his hands and excitedly rush out of the car.

"5 minutes tops or i'm going without you!" he calls out the window, to which you shriek and scurry away even faster.

he grins to himself, shaking his head as you disappear into the building and he turns to click open your camera roll.

"alright, cat café, where are............ you."

taehyun feels as if a lightning rod has just shot straight through his entire body.

his muscles tense. all his breath escapes him in a rush.

you...

the sight of you is what greets him through the screen...

you,

completely naked.

it's like his skin is consumed by fire as his eyes roam across the rows of pictures in the album you'd left open; most taken on your bed, some in the shower at the gym that you both go to together, some where you’re donned in sets of delicious lingerie — his eyes widening and pants tightening when he even spots one from his own room, your skirt hiked up in the reflection of his full-length mirror as your panties dangle cheekily from one finger, leaving the delicious curve of your ass on full display.

when did she even take that??

he scrolls, and he's barely hanging on by a thread as his best friend who's supposed to stay his best friend poses so irresistibly pretty from the screen; his cock is so hard that it's painful as your big innocent eyes look up at him in complete contrast to the lewd position that you'd put yourself in.

god, the positions he wants to put you in...

alright, reel it in, kang taehyun. this can't go anywhere. you have to take it to the grave. you’ve gotta think about the friendship. you’ll just pretend you didn't see it. you’ll act aloof like you always do.

but every single ounce of self control that taehyun has spent so long holding together finally crashes down around him like a breaking dam when his gaze lands on the name of the album at the top of the screen.

— t ♡

his cock jumps.

fucking hell, these are for me.

when you skip your way back to the car minutes later, you don't notice at first how firmly he's gripping the steering wheel or the fact that he isn’t even looking at you, remaining staring straight ahead as you climb back into the passenger side.

you don't notice — that is, until your phone catches your eye, set neatly on the middle console with your worst nightmare staring right back up at you from the screen.

it feels as though a bucket of ice water has crash landed down on your head (both the water and the bucket) as you realize what happened.

but you barely even have the time to panic or react or beg for mercy, or perhaps for a lobotomy on you both, before taehyun is asking you:

"back seat or my place?"

his voice is so calm that you almost don't process his words. your thoughts buffer as you pause.

"wh... what?" you breathe.

that's when he finally turns his head to look at you, and the intensity of the hunger swimming in his stare is enough to leave you even more winded than you already were before as a familiar feeling stirs between your legs and your thighs clamp together of their own accord.

"back seat," he repeats slowly, "or my place?"

you swallow hard.

this.. t-this is... he means.…

your head is reeling, and dumbly you stammer back, "w-what about the guys..?" as if the plans with your friends really matter anymore in a moment like this.

fuck the guys. fuck the cat café. taehyun has already decided: he’s done holding back from what he wants, and what he wants is to make you his.

you blink at him wide-eyed as he leans towards you slightly in his seat, his voice low and assertive as he replies,

"we're not going."

he taps your phone as if to draw your attention back to it. as if it should be obvious.

"so, you choose." your eyes fly back up to his —

"where do you want me to fuck you?"

your lower belly explodes with heat as an electric shiver rolls down your spine, and you swear that this is the best day of your entire fucking life as you see the promise that flickers in his eyes.

maybe you won't be finding yourself on the football team after all.

──────────────────────

— taglist: @razsberrie, @saejinniestar, @hyukalyptus, @florestalio, @beomiracles, @kiss4baku, @kejingken, @hyukascampfire, @cherr4es, @stawmerry, @choikanghuening, @dawngyu, @soo-blue, @paradigms13

if you want to be added to my taglist and get notified whenever i post any writing, drop a comment or an ask and let me know! ♡

[ficscollection]

brain empty, just you !

loser!txt's reaction to you getting them flustered

genre: fluff, humour

warnings: suggestive content!, making out, kissing, choking(the good kind heh), whiny!txt, stuttering, swearing, down bad!txt

note: finally writing for txt after like 2 years. i did a similar one for enha so naturally i had to do it for txt because they're soo silly. i also had to finish writing this after looking at beomgyu's very motivating recent buff pics omg. enjoy reading!

word count: 3.8k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

YEONJUN

yeonjun tries so hard to play it cool as your boyfriend—all confidence and swagger—but the moment you so much as hold his hand for too long, he’s hiding his face in your shoulder, whining about how "you're trying to kill me!" he’s the type to shamelessly beg for your attention one second, then get insanely flustered when you actually give it to him. he’ll send you selfies captioned "thinking about you, babe ;)" and then shrivel up and die if you call him cute.

and now, as he sits beside you on his couch, watching some random movie, he’s completely oblivious to the way you’ve been staring at him for the past ten minutes. he’s scrolling on his phone, glasses slipping down his nose, occasionally mumbling a reaction to whatever’s on screen. his bare face looks so pretty in the dim glow of the television, lips slightly parted, his brows furrowing every now and then.

he looks kissable.

"why are you looking at me like that?"

you blink, snapped out of your trance. yeonjun turns to you, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"like what?" you ask, tilting your head.

"like you're about to bully me."

you let out a soft hum. "i was just thinking."

he snorts. "that’s never good."

you ignore him. "you’re not a very good kisser.".

his entire body goes stiff, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. his phone slips from his grip, bouncing onto his lap, and he blinks at you in pure devastation.

"huh?" he finally croaks out, voice cracking horribly.

you shrug. "i mean, you're just kinda… meh. nothing special."

yeonjun’s jaw drops. he presses a dramatic hand to his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. "EXCUSE ME?!"

you barely hold in your laugh at his utterly betrayed expression. "i dunno, babe. you just kinda suck."

"I SUCK?! i—when? why didn’t you say anything before" he whines, eyes wide with disbelief.

you hum, inspecting your nails. "I was being nice."

yeonjun gasps, clutching his chest like a 19th-century widow. his ears are red. "YOU WERE BEING NICE?! BABY, MY EGO—HELLO?!"

before he can spiral into a full-blown meltdown, you reach up, gently plucking his glasses off his face.

his words die in his throat.

"which is why you need more practice," you murmur.

his breath hitches.

then, before he can so much as process what’s happening, your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him in as your lips crash against his.

yeonjun whimpers.

he goes boneless instantly, melting into you like putty. his plush lips part against yours, kissing you back so desperately, so messily, it’s obvious he’s completely lost in it. your fingers tangle deeper into his hair, tugging lightly, and the sound he makes—somewhere between a whimper and a whine—sends heat rushing through you.

it’s a mess. his lips move against yours with a feverish hunger, hands gripping your waist as if you’ll disappear if he lets go. he’s so eager, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours in a way that makes you shiver.

when you finally pull away, only because you need air, yeonjun chases your lips with a needy whine, trying to pull you back in.

but then, against your lips, he mumbles in the saddest, most pathetic voice:

"do you really think I’m a bad kisser?"

you lose it.

a laugh bubbles out of you, and you cup his face, pressing a soft peck to his nose. his cheeks are burning, his brows furrowed in genuine distress.

"i was just messing with you, baby," you giggle, pecking his lips again. "i just needed an excuse to kiss you. I literally can’t get enough of you."

yeonjun blinks. once. twice.

then he groans, dramatically collapsing onto your shoulder, wrapping himself around you like a clingy koala. "you’re SO mean."

you laugh, rubbing his back. "you love me."

"unfortunately," he grumbles, muffled against your neck.

you smirk. "and you’re a great kisser, by the way."

he peeks up at you, still red-faced, before stealing another quick kiss—like he needs to make up for lost time. and despite his flustered state, you know he’s already planning ways to get back at you… if he ever stops blushing long enough to think straight.

SOOBIN

for someone so tall and broad, soobin is an absolute baby when it comes to you. the man stutters every time you compliment him, avoids eye contact when you so much as hold his hand, and malfunctions if you get even a little bit flirty. he physically cannot handle any form of teasing—his ears turn red, his hands get clammy, and he lets out those pathetic little whimpers whenever you catch him off guard.

right now, though, soobin is doing so well pretending to be normal.

you two are in his kitchen, baking together, and he’s very focused on whisking the brownie batter. his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted, his strong arms flexing with every precise movement. the sight of his broad shoulders tapering into his slim waist is so unfair. the way his biceps subtly shift under his oversized t-shirt?—it’s all so unfairly attractive. he’s doing absolutely nothing and yet, somehow, he’s driving you insane.

you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and burying your face into his back. soobin stiffens. like, completely freezes. you swear you can hear his heart pounding from this position.

then—

"b-babe?" he croaks out, voice cracking violently.

you giggle, tightening your hold around him. "mhm?"

"w-what are you—" he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale when you press a soft kiss against his nape. his breath shudders. you grin against his skin, pressing another kiss, then another, trailing them slowly up to his jaw. you can feel his entire body trembling beneath your touch, his grip on the whisk turning bone-white.

"b-baby, i—"

you don’t let him finish. instead, you suck gently on the soft skin just beneath his ear.

soobin lets out a broken whimper. his whole body shudders, and you swear he whines when you lick over the spot before sucking again, harder this time. his free hand grips the counter for dear life as if that’ll stop his knees from giving out.

"s-stop," he begs, voice so weak, so pathetic.

you don’t stop. you drag your lips across his skin, finding a new spot to bite down on, leaving another mark, and—

"OH SHIT!"

you pull back, startled, just in time to see soobin staring in absolute horror at the bowl in front of him. he’s gripping a salt container. and he just dumped a quarter of it into the brownie batter.

there’s a moment of dead silence.

then—

"YOU DISTRACTED ME!" soobin wails, turning to face you with the saddest pout you’ve ever seen.

you burst out laughing.

"soobin!" you gasp, holding your stomach. "oh my god, you—oh my god—!"

"this is NOT funny!" he cries, stomping his foot like an actual child. "those were gonna be SO GOOD!"

"they still can be!" you tease, wiping a tear from your eye. "just... y'know, if you wanna die of sodium overdose."

soobin groans, covering his face in shame. "i hate you."

you smirk, stepping closer. "no, you don’t."

"I DO."

"no, you don't."

"i dooooo—"

he cuts himself off mid-whine. because suddenly, he’s hit with an idea.

a horrible idea.

and you see it in his eyes before it even happens.

in the blink of an eye, soobin spins around, trapping you against the counter. his arms cage you in, his broad frame looming over you, and he leans in all slow and deliberate, trying to act like he knows what he’s doing.

"now look what you’ve done, baby," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave.

oh.

oh, he thinks he’s being hot.

the problem is—he looks more adorable than hot, because his ears are bright red, his eyes keep darting to your lips like he doesn’t know where else to look, and the way he’s breathing just the tiniest bit too fast gives away how insanely nervous he is.

then he licks his lips.

(or at least, he tries to.)

because the second his tongue peeks out, he accidentally bites it instead, letting out a pathetic little "ow."

you stare at him.

soobin freezes.

the tension shatters.

then you die laughing, "you—YOU TRIED TO BE SMOOTH AND THEN—!"

"NOOOO, WAIT—!"

but you’re already giggling uncontrollably, fully doubling over against his chest.

soobin groans, hiding his face in his hands. "ugh this is so embarrassing!"

you lift your head, still laughing, pressing a kiss to his flaming cheek. "you’re so cute, baby."

"don’t say that!" he whines, flailing his arms.

but you just smirk. "what? i thought you wanted to be all smooth and confident?"

soobin collapses onto the counter, burying his head in his arms. "i am NEVER doing that again."

you giggle, patting his head. "i dunno, baby. i think it was kinda hot."

soobin lifts his head slightly, peeking at you with hopeful eyes. "really?"

you grin. "no."

he lets out the loudest groan ever.

 BEOMGYU

beomgyu is the absolute worst best friend to have a crush on. he’s loud, annoying, and somehow always finds new ways to make you suffer. he’s clingy in the worst way—stealing your snacks, flopping onto you like a deadweight whenever he’s tired, and absolutely refusing to let you do anything in peace. he always has to be touching you—whether it’s throwing his leg over yours, wrapping his arms around you like a koala, or straight-up lying on top of you like you’re a personal mattress.

but the moment you touch him first? malfunction.

the second you get even a little flirty? shutdown.

and lately, you’ve been having way too much fun testing that theory.

because beomgyu’s been working out.

like, seriously working out.

and god, is it showing.

he’s huge now—his shoulders broader, his arms thicker, his waist still slim but now complemented with solid muscle. you don’t know when exactly he started hitting the gym like his life depended on it, but you do know it’s made play-fighting with him so much harder.

like right now, for example.

you’re on your bed, engaged in an intense pillow fight, but it’s not even fair anymore. beomgyu used to suck at this—he used to wheeze and flail and scream whenever you got the upper hand. but now? now he’s too strong. every time you swing at him, he effortlessly blocks it, laughing at your pathetic attempts to win.

"aw, what’s wrong?" he teases, easily dodging your next swing. "is someone losing?"

you scowl. "shut up."

"no, seriously," he grins, mocking you. "this is sad. like, you’re not even putting up a fight. are you even trying?"

oh, fuck him.

you drop the pillow, launching yourself at him instead.

beomgyu yelps as you tackle him down, using your weight to pin him beneath you. before he can react, you go for the kill—your fingers digging into his sides, tickling him ruthlessly.

"no no WAIT—"

his laughter explodes from his chest, high-pitched and desperate. he squirms, his muscles tensing under you as he tries to fight back, but you’re relentless, giggling as he gasps for air.

 but then, just as your giggles subside, you become painfully aware of two things:

beomgyu looks hot.

you want him to choke you.

the realization hits you like a truck. because holy shit—he’s under you, panting, his face flushed, his arms bulging as they grip your waist, his lips parted just slightly, his brown eyes dark and half-lidded as he catches his breath.

oh.

oh, no.

you freeze, eyes locked on his.

beomgyu, of course, being the oblivious loser he is, just blinks at you, completely unaware of the thoughts flooding your brain.

and then he flips you over.

in one quick motion, Beomgyu has you pinned instead, his thick arm curling around your neck in a chokehold.

your brain short-circuits.

because—

this is exactly what you wanted.

and Beomgyu, still oblivious, leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

"what now, huh?" he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, teasing tone. "you thought you could win? look at you now."

oh, fuck.

your entire body shudders. this is too much. his scent, his weight, the way his arm presses against your throat just right—

"god, this feels so good."

the words slip out before you can stop them.

beomgyu freezes.

and then—

"…huh?"

his grip loosens instantly, and he stumbles back like he’s been electrocuted. his face is burning red, eyes wide in pure, unfiltered panic.

"w-what do you mean—" he gulps. "w-what do you—w-what—h-huh—?"

you blink up at him, suddenly just as flustered.

"uhm—"

"n-no wait—like—" beomgyu waves his arms, looking so painfully distressed. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT FELT GOOD—?"

you gulp, forcing yourself to meet his panicked gaze.

and then, because you literally have no other choice, you blurt out, "i think i like you."

beomgyu stares.

he stares.

and then he glitches, mouth opening and closing, hands twitching by his sides, brain fully crashing. his eyes dart everywhere except at you, his entire face a shade of red so intense you’re afraid he might actually pass out.

"you-you like me? like—LIKE ME like me?"

you bite your lip, nodding shyly. "yeah."

his breath catches and he immediately looks away, running a shaky hand through his hair, looking like he’s about to combust.

"h-holy shit—" he mutters under his breath. "oh my god oh my god—"

then—

"WAIT—SO YOU—SO YOU LIKED THE CHOKEHOLD?"

you groan, covering your face. "BEOMGYU—"

he wheezes, hands on his knees. "OH MY GOD—"

you swear he giggles. like, actually giggles.

then he stops and his entire body shudders.

and he whispers, "holy shit, that was kinda hot."

you choke.

"BEOMGYU!"

"you’re a freak," he teases, grinning. "wanting me to choke you and shit—"

"OH MY GOD SHUT UP!"

but when he pulls you into a hug, still laughing, still red-faced and awkward and loser-ish in the best way, you can’t help but smile.

TAEHYUN

taehyun is a very serious tutor. he has strict rules—no distractions, no unnecessary conversations, and definitely no messing around. this is a learning environment, not a hangout session.

he prides himself on his focus, his ability to remain calm under any circumstance. he’s the type of guy who color-codes his notes, has a rigid study schedule, and unironically enjoys doing practice questions for fun. he does not—under any circumstances—get flustered over dumb things like romantic tension.

at least, that’s what he used to believe.

then you happened, and suddenly, his ability to not be a complete loser around you has disappeared entirely.

from the moment he agreed to tutor you in math, things have been an absolute disaster. you’re so unfair. you bat your eyelashes, you ask him to repeat things you already understand just to hear his voice, and worst of all, you stare at him. like he’s some kind of fascinating subject to study instead of the guy desperately trying to keep his composure while explaining differential equations. 

he thought it would be fine—after all, he’s taehyun, and taehyun doesn’t get distracted. but within one week, he realized he was in deep, deep trouble.

because you mess with him. constantly.

like today.

you're both seated at a table in the library, supposed to be going over trigonometric identities. taehyun has the patience of a saint (or so he tells himself), but after fifteen minutes of you not even pretending to be paying attention, he's starting to lose it.

because you're staring at him shamelessly, chin propped up on your palm, eyes locked onto him with a lazy smile playing on your lips.

he tries to ignore it. he really does. his eyes flick to the textbook, his pen tapping against the table in a controlled rhythm. but it’s like your gaze is physically burning into him, and the more he tries to focus, the harder it gets.

finally, he snaps.

"what?" he blurts, gripping his pen so tightly it might explode.

you blink, all innocent. "what do you mean?"

"you're staring at me."

"oh." your lips curl into a slow smirk. "i was just thinking."

taehyun immediately doesn’t like the sound of that.

"thinking about what?" he asks, voice strained.

"how pretty you are."

his pen drops to the table with a clatter.

"i—" he chokes on air, already feeling heat crawl up his neck. he forces himself to focus, grabbing his pen with a death grip like it’s some kind of life support. "th-that’s irrelevant. get back to the problem."

but you? oh, you're evil.

you lean in closer, resting your chin on your hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. "i mean it," you hum. "you’re so cute, taehyun. it’s distracting."

distracting?

oh, the irony.

because you’re calling him distracting while he’s actively trying not to combust on the spot.

"s-stop," he stammers, adjusting his glasses even though they don’t need adjusting. "i—i don’t see how this is relevant to trigonometry—"

"it’s not," you shrug. "but I think you should know how much I like looking at you."

his breathing stops.

and then, as if you haven’t already destroyed him enough, you reach forward and fiddle with the hem of his sleeve, fingers brushing against his wrist like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

taehyun physically malfunctions.

tis ears are burning, his pulse is racing, and for the first time in his entire life, he has no idea what to do.

and so? he chooses violence.

without a word, taehyun slams his textbook shut, grabs his bag, and bolts out of the library so fast that he nearly trips over his own feet.

"we’re done!" he yells over his shoulder, voice cracking. "see you next week!"

you lose it, dissolving into laughter as you watch him practically sprint out of the building, ears glowing red.

and somewhere, down the hallway, taehyun is muttering under his breath about how this is why he should’ve never agreed to tutor you.

oh, he is never living this down.

HUENINGKAI 

hueningkai has been a mess around you for as long as you can remember.

it’s kind of ridiculous, really. despite being handsome and built like a human teddy bear, he has zero game. like, none at all. he stutters when talking to pretty people (you), trips over his own feet at least twice a day, and would definitely combust if you so much as complimented him unexpectedly.

and the fact that he’s your best friend bahiyyih’s older brother just makes it all the more entertaining. every time you so much as acknowledge his existence, bahiyyih rolls her eyes like she’s watching a romcom in real-time.

it’s adorable, really.

which is why, when he hesitantly approaches you after lecture one day, eyes darting everywhere but at your face, you already know whatever he’s about to say is going to be good.

"c-can you help me shop for hiyyih’s birthday?" he stammers, gripping the straps of his backpack like his life depends on it. "i—i don’t really know what to get her, and you're, um, good at this stuff…"

you smile, amused. "of course, kai. let’s go."

fast forward an hour later, and you find yourself in a cosmetics store, browsing through endless rows of lip glosses.

you hold up two tubes, lips pursed in thought. "i can't decide between these two," you mumble, glancing at kai, who has been hovering behind you like a nervous puppy the entire time.

his eyes flicker to the glosses, then to you, then away, like he’s afraid of looking at you too long.

"uh, i mean—" he stammers, rubbing his neck. "they both look nice?"

you narrow your eyes. useless.

"i need an actual opinion," you huff before popping the cap off one of them. you apply a coat to your lips, then turn to him with a tilt of your head. "how does this one look?"

hueningkai’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

iI—it’s pretty," he says finally, voice cracking on the last syllable.

you suppress a giggle, then glance at the other gloss. "okay, but I need to compare. I can’t put this one on my lips because I already have the first shade on."

he blinks, confused. "oh. uh, so—"

"so I should put it on yours," you finish simply.

his face goes from pink to red in record time. his eyes are huge, lips parting slightly like he just had a stroke.

"w-wait—on me?!"

you arch a brow, feigning innocence. "yeah? so I can see the difference properly. otherwise, we’ll never know which one’s better."

his throat bobs. his fingers tighten around the straps of his shopping bag. "i—uh—"

he looks like he’s two seconds away from self-destructing, but then he nods—barely and stiffly presses his lips together.

you bite back a grin.

he really is a loser.

gently, you lift the applicator and lean in, holding his chin steady with your free hand. his skin burns under your fingertips, and you swear you can hear his breathing get shakier. his eyes squeeze shut, his shoulders tense, and his entire existence is one giant ball of nerves.

but the second the wand makes contact with his pouty lower lip, he starts fidgeting.

"kai, hold still," you laugh, reaching out to cup his face with one hand. his cheeks are burning, and his lips part in surprise as your fingers graze his skin. his entire body locks up, lips parting slightly as his breath hitches. his big, round eyes are glued to your face now, completely mesmerized as you lean in closer.

his lips are so pouty. plush, glossy, glistening under the store’s lights, and suddenly, it feels like your body is moving on its own. before you can stop yourself, your gaze flickers to his wide, dazed eyes—then down to his parted lips—

and you kiss him.

It’s soft at first—just a press of your lips against his. but the moment you start to pull away, he—to your utter shock—kisses you back.

slow, hesitant, but definitely kissing back.

his lips move against yours in a way that’s both nervous and eager—like he can’t believe this is happening but wants more anyway. his hand hovers near your wrist, as if he wants to hold you closer but is too shy to do it.

and that’s when it hits you.

you just kissed hueningkai. in public.

iou jolt back, eyes wide. "i’m so sorry—i-i didn’t mean—"

but kai? he just stared at you, lips still glossy, blinking like his brain is still catching up to reality. then, slowly—so, so shyly—he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, lips curling into the tiniest smile.

"i... liked that, actually," he mutters, barely above a whisper.

the air turns thick with tension, and you can’t tell who’s more flustered—him, with his red ears and adorably shy expression, or you, with your pulse hammering a mile a minute.

for a long moment, neither of you say anything.

and then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, hueningkai clears his throat and asks, "s-so, um… which gloss do you think looks better?"

you laugh, cheeks still warm. "honestly?" you glance at his lips. "i think i like this one better."

and just like that, his face explodes into color all over again.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @soobnuuy @moafloribunda @lunalovesstories @firstclassjaylee @levandright @fancypeacepersona @mirouie @gaonashi @firstclassjaylee @kkamismom12 @evandsolo

[ficscollection]

It’s you!! You’re the one that I want!!!

[art is by the lovely illusbyjo <3]

Summary:

Witty jokes? Didn’t really work. Pick up lines? Been there, done that. Now he probably just thinks you’re corny. These are two of many (many) methods that you used to try and get Choi Soobin, your classmate, your friend, and your husband (though he doesn’t know it yet) to notice you. Come on Soobin!!! You’re practically throwing yourself at him and yet, nothing. Is he blind, or just a robot? It’s time to find out.

Choi Soobin x reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mc is super whipped and soobin is just too anxious to do anything about it, fluff, and a sprinkle of angst

Word count: 3.6K

Warnings: mentions of food, but other than that none.. let me know if I should add anything :)

a/n: I’m literally so stuck with my bigger projects, so instead, I offer this: a token of my love to Soobin and a reminder that I am alive and well. I wrote this while I was half awake, so excuse any typos you might find :( Reblogs and comments are always welcome, and I hope you guys enjoy!! <3

You remember the first time you laid eyes on him.

Well, how could you forget? Choi Soobin, six feet tall, an absolute god standing amongst mere mortals in a coffee shop, looking absolutely stunning as he ordered his drink. You remembered the way your heart stuttered, staring at the man for an unusually long amount of time before moving on with your day, much too tired to attempt to approach him.

You were never the type to be too straight forward, but Soobin simply brought something out of you. The moment you noticed him walking to the same class as you, you felt a smile grow on your face, a slight confidence appearing in your walk as you trailed hopelessly behind him.

A lost puppy; that’s what everyone compared you to. A hopeless romantic that chased Soobin all around campus as though he would be the answer to all your problems, only to have him laugh off your advances politely or simply turn the other way.

What had you done wrong? Did you come on too strong? Though the more you had watched Soobin interact with those around him, the more you saw that he didn’t really pay any attention to the advances that people made to him- he was quite used to it, after all.

Your solution? Try a little harder.

“Soobin!” It was a common word in your vocabulary by now, slipping off your tongue so easily and leaving a taste of honey. You had tried everything in the books: gifts, compliments, witty conversation, jokes, even pick-up lines. Yet he always remained cool and collected, brushing off your attempts with such ease that you sometimes wondered if he was capable of love at all.

Today’s attempt was inspired by your mother’s favorite quote: “the fastest way to someone's heart is through their stomach.”

And, god, if this little treat that you had spent working on all day and night didn’t work to entrap the absolute enigma that was Soobin into your arms, then maybe it just wasn't meant to be.

It was basic routine for Soobin- dealing with you and your advances had become a norm for him, and today wouldn’t be an exception. Though if he had told you that he hated everything that you did to try and get his heart, then he would be an outright liar. From the moment you had sat next to him, dropping the corniest, most overused pick up line- “you come here often?”- he knew that he was done for.

Soobin was never the most outgoing, oftentimes even being mistaken as cold for his reserved personality. But you- you took that in stride and molded all of your attempts in his favor, making sure that you took note of days where he simply did not feel like playing along. And as much as he appreciated it, he sometimes wished that you would lose interest, just so he wouldn’t have to go through the stress of figuring out how to reciprocate.

Yet the more you tried, the more he felt his heart flutter, his cheeks reddening at the endearing ways that you attempted to make him laugh.

He felt like an absolute fool around you, reduced to nothing but a shy little boy that doesn’t know how to handle someone as playful and energetic as you. Whenever you would leave, he could feel the embarrassment seeping into him, the teasing looks and comments of his friends sending him into a frenzy.

It didn’t take long before you had the rest of Soobin’s friend group wrapped around your finger as well, their advice and tips to win the man’s heart only serving to bring Soobin to his breaking point faster. And with today's item wrapped so tenderly with love and care, you knew that you caught him, hook, line, and sinker.

You had him cornered, a six foot flustered man staring down at you with eyes so wide you would think they would pop out at any second. You knew that he had been trying to avoid you once more, catching your eyes earlier and swerving left and right to any hallway or entrance that caught his eye, only to have him cornered in an empty classroom with no one there to save him. (Or rather- ruin the moment)

“Geez, are you avoiding me or something?” You asked, clearly looking to say something that would provoke him. And like the gullible boy he was, he stiffened, shaking his head feverently as he tried to dissuade your claims.

“No, it’s nothing like that!” He stuttered out, ears turning red and face flushing as it began to dawn on him- the way he turned into absolute putty for you, ready for you to control and tug out any reaction you pleased. “I just— was looking for…”

“An escape?” You finished, fighting the grin that tugged at your lips as he began to fight your words once more. “Ah, nevermind. Here, I made you this!”

Straightforward as always, you shoved the pink and white pinstriped box in his face, all tied together with a satin, cream colored ribbon. Soobin felt the guilt pool into his stomach, staring at the box hesitantly.

“Oh, for…. Me?” He quietly asked, watching you begin to nod enthusiastically. Noticing his hesitance, you grabbed his hands, placing the box in them before looking back up at him expectantly.

“Well, are you gonna open it?”

He seemed to snap out of his trance, pretty fingers reaching to delicately take the ribbon off, opening the box to be greeted with-

“Muffins,” he softly said, looking at the treats as though they were the most fragile things in the universe “wow,” He looked back up to catch your endeared reaction, immediately losing confidence and retreating to his reserved self. “These are- they’re so-“ he took the sight of them in, decorated prettily and looking absolutely delicious, his mind coming to a stop as he attempted to splutter out a compliment.

“Cute? Yummy? Awful?” You said, filling in the blanks of his unfinished sentences as you clasped your hands together.

“Yeah,” his eyes widened, “well- not that last one, of course! Uhm,” he laughed weakly, internally crying at how awkward he was being with you, “thank you….”

You hummed in an affirmation, walking closer to him to peak over his arms, studying your work carefully, He stiffened, your scent slowly drifting up to him, sweet and pleasant to his nose, making your presence much more inviting to him- he could almost drop the muffins and engulf you in a hug then and there-

“Do you want to try one?” He jumped at the sound of your voice, fumbling with the box for a moment before settling down with a sigh of relief, meeting your amused eyes.

“Uhm- sure…”

He stared at the array of muffins intently, wondering what flavor they could be, pondering which one he should eat until the sight of your hand taking one snapped him out of his trance. (Soobin has no idea why, but you have a knack of catching him off guard.)

“Say ‘ahh’,” you teased, bringing up the muffin to his mouth- chocolate chip, a favorite of his, so you were told by Soobin’s (and your!) friends- only to feel your heart swell as he followed your orders, opening his mouth shyly as he adverted your gaze.

The bread practically melted in his mouth, the flavors pleasant and well refined as he closed his eyes, fighting back a groan of delight as he ate the food.

“So, how is it?” You had asked, a curious glint in your eyes as you waited for him to respond.

Oh, he was in deep.

✩☆♡☆✩

It was no secret on campus that Choi Soobin was quite the catch; smart, funny, attractive, fashionable, kind- you name a positive trait, and it will be used to describe Soobin.

So, despite all that, you’re not so sure why you were surprised when you noticed others begin to approach him, shamelessly flirting as though they had taken a page straight from your book. The worst part? He seemed immune to it all, looking absolutely uninterested- bored, even- as they attempted to catch his attention, only to fail miserably.

It was then that it hit you- was this what others saw? Was it what he saw? If you concentrated enough, you could still feel the way your stomach twisted at the revelation that day, feeling sick as you began to take in the embarrassment of your actions.

You tried everything- everything - in your power to try and get Soobin to simply look at you in a different light, only to fail every time. And though you still had a pretty solid friendship if you looked past all the hopeless pining, you had yet to get any response from him, any signs of reciprocation being far, far in the future, if there at all.

Were you making him uncomfortable? Soobin was a reserved man who would rather avoid the spotlight, and you doubt he would ever attempt to confront you if had indeed crossed a boundary.

The very thought of it made your stomach churn; your crush on Soobin was supposed to be a harmless thing, but if you were only there to distract and bother him, then it wasn’t worth it to pursue his heart anymore.

Soobin noticed a shift in your mood immediately- though he pretended he didn’t. The moment he went to sit next to you, he noticed your sudden reserved behavior, barely looking his way throughout the whole day, acting as though you had no interest in him anymore.

As much as he wanted to pretend that he wasn’t bothered by this change, he was- he was very, very bothered. And though he wanted to reach out, to ask if you were alright, the thought of doing so seemed like a very dumb thing to do.

-“Hey, are you alright?” -“Yes, why?” -“Oh, it’s just that you’re not flirting with me anymore.”  The very thought of it made Soobin shiver. So, begrudgingly, he let you go, watching as you rushed out of the class as soon as you were dismissed, walking away from him without a spared glance, the itch to call out your name and ask what was wrong becoming more and more prominent within him.

But he refrained.

You’ll be ok, right?

✩☆♡☆✩

That night, you ran to Yeonjun’s arms out of pure embarrassment and regret, the words coming out of you like word vomit.

You had expressed all of your concerns about Soobin to him, from the way he brushed you off to the moment you realized you might be a burden to the boy whose heart you were trying to pursue. And though Yeonjun wanted to tell you the truth, that your lack of attention had left Soobin sulking for the rest of the day, solemnly staring off into space as though he were lost in thought, he didn’t, knowing that it was not his story to tell.

The relationship between you and Soobin was probably one of the most annoying things that Yeonjun and his friends had ever witnessed. There you were, throwing your heart out to Soobin, only for him to be too afraid to do anything back. The lack of reciprocation on his part was becoming too unbearable to watch, knowing that it would all stay the same if someone didn’t do anything first.

And well, Yeonjun is gonna be that someone, apparently.

✩☆♡☆✩

Yeonjun’s grand idea?

Group hangout.

It seemed like a nice enough idea at the time, choosing to go to a nearby carnival that had opened up for the season, but now that he sees the way it’s going so far, Yeonjun feels as though he could have done better. (well, it was either this or pretend that everyone was going to hang out at a cafe- only to not show up and have it be just you and Soobin. Blah blah, talking would ensue, and, oh? Kissy kissy!— yeah, Yeonjun scrapped that idea pretty quick.)

Throughout the whole day, you had opted out of being near Soobin, giving him too much space as you chose to talk to Taehyun or Hueningkai instead. (And Soobin, ever the anxious one, couldn’t do much about it no matter how much he wanted to- were you giving him the cold shoulder?)

So, with one last idea stirring up in his mind, Yeonjun led the six of you towards the Ferris wheel.

Ah yes, Yeonjun’s master plan- the Ferris wheel. Wait the day out to ride it last, shove the two of you in a cart and bam! Kiss and make up. (it was his last resort; if this didn’t work, he would just resort to violence.)

So as you stood in line, pretending you didn’t notice the way Yeonjun would continually count the amount of people ahead of him, you couldn’t help but wonder just what it was that he was up to- Yeonjun was the farthest thing from inconspicuous.

And yet, as you dragged Yeonjun for being obvious, your whole “give-Soobin-space” plan (more like “avoid Soobin as much as possible”) was given away immediately, a tense atmosphere overtaking the air whenever you were next to him.

“Next please,” the worker shouted halfheartedly, bringing your attention to the empty cart- that could only fit four people.

“Beomgyu, wait this one out for me,” you said, latching onto the boy's arm as Taehyun, Hueningkai, and Yeonjun quickly got in.

“No way man!” Beomgyu said, throwing you off quickly- you had failed to notice Yeonjun’s pointed (and threatening) glare to Beomgyu- “I’m- tired of standing.. So, yeah.” he said, slowly justifying himself as he climbed on, leaving you with your jaw on the floor.

Before you could curse the four out, they shut the glass door closed, leaving you to watch as the ride began to move once more.

And you were stuck with Soobin.

You didn’t dare to look back, the embarrassment of putting up a fight to avoid sitting next to him (right in front of him too!) setting in to you heavily. Wow, you just couldn’t catch a break huh?

Not wanting to make matters worse, you sucked it up, waiting for the next available cart.

“How many?” The worker asked, staring off into space, and clearly not fully there.

“Just us two.”

It was Soobin that spoke, the deep timbre of his voice setting off butterflies in your stomach, the words ringing out in your head. You tried to ingore the way your hopes were beginning to go up, crushing any possibility of making a move, avoiding Soobin's gaze instead. Stiffly, you entered the cart, sitting straight and looking forward as you waited for Soobin to get in.

You really wished you could control your traitorous heart at the moment, because as much as you wanted to give Soobin his space, you couldn’t deny how stunning he looked, much less under the light of the setting sun. God, how did it end up this way? All you wanted to do was mess with the cute boy you noticed at the coffee shop, and instead you were here, silently sitting at a Ferris wheel due to your clashing personalities.

The ride was quiet and awkward, with neither of you making a move to start a conversation. Many thoughts and ideas to change that crossed through your mind, but you pushed it away, not wanting it to backfire and turn into another awkward moment for Soobin. Meanwhile, in the cart behind you, the rest of your friends sat peacefully, waiting for it all to be over so Yeonjun could stop worrying over his “plan”.

“You good?” Hueningkai asked, watching as Yeonjun practically tipped the cart over from peering into your own cart, completely still as he observed your actions once the carts stopped.

“Shh!” He hissed, frowning as he took in your body languages. “Augh, come on, do something! You literally got the best spot and everything!” Angrily, he pulled out his phone, typing away furiously to Soobin’s number. It quickly reached him, the phone vibrating in his pocket, startling the both of you as he took it out, the message peeking at him as he looked at his phone;

jjun

DO SOMETHING!!!-&1$-& 😡😡😡🤬🤬🥵

jjun

wait ignore that last one lolz

Soobin stared ahead of him and into the next cart, meeting the gaze of an infuriated Yeonjun, who shook his fist at him threateningly, his lips mouthing three simple words:

“Make. A. Move.”

Soobin gulped. Make a move? How? He observed you, sitting stiffly and looking out the glass and nowhere else, undoubtedly avoiding looking at him.

Then it hit him. (Like the dense boy he is) This whole time, it had only been you making a move, constantly approaching him and offering your heart. And yet, he did nothing, far too shy and anxious to try and respond to your actions. Could this be why you were acting this way? Did you get tired of him? The thought made his heart sink, the feeling catching him by surprise.

But this was it. This was his chance! (orchestrated by none other than Choi Yeonjun) and what other time to profess your feelings than during the overplayed sunset at the Ferris wheel scene.

So as he took a deep breath in, Soobin finally took this chance to tell you-

“Are you okay?”

What?

(Okay, that’s definitely not where he wanted this to go. At all. Wasn’t he supposed to have a big speech prepared? Where was his picture perfect confession moment at the top of the Ferris wheel?!)

“Huh?” You said, too shocked by his words to continue the facade to ignore him.

Well, at least you were looking at him again.

“You just- I don’t know…” he said, quietly accepting his defeat, “you seemed quiet. Especially around me. Did I do something wrong?”

If he wasn’t going to have a heartfelt speech, then he would at least be honest with you and get the words off his chest.

Did he do something wrong? That’s a question you’re not entirely sure how to answer.

“I- no, the entire time I thought that I had done something wrong,” you admitted, slouching down at the memories that began to flood your mind.

“You?! Oh god no!” He said, making you sit up with curiosity.

“What? But I thought that…'' you began, shrinking as he quirked a brow in curiosity, “I thought that… I was, um, scaring you off with my,” your voice got quieter, “flirting.”

There. You said it. The official name in the book, and you admitted to it. You were flirting with Choi Soobin this entire time.

And it seemed like that was all that the said boy needed, his loud laugh catching you off gaurd, looking up to find him absolutely endeared with you and what you said.

“No, not at all… actually,” a sudden confidence overtook him as he said,

“I really like you.”

Stop.

Did he actually say that or were you dreaming?

The sun’s last rays shone behind Soobin, casting a soft glow around him that seemed almost too perfect for the moment, your heart floating and a genuine grin taking over your face.

Despite all your desperate pining, the hard work that went into keeping up with Soobin and making sure that you were never crossing the line, (well, maybe toeing at it from time to time, but never crossing it) and the time and energy spent into making things for him; you never fully expected him to return these feelings.

Yet here you were, at the top of the Ferris wheel (and possibly the world) basking in the glory of the words he just uttered to you, wondering what you were supposed to say to that.

“Can you just kiss me please.”

Call it adrenaline, or newfound confidence, but that’s exactly what Soobin did.

His hands, delicate and warm, encased your own as he pulled you to sit next to him, carefully caressing your face before swooping down to initiate the kiss. His lips were soft and plump against your own, the soft scent of the body oils he wore mingling with your own, a soft cacophony of smells and feelings overtaking your mind and making you sigh with happiness.

And as he pulled you close to him, the smile forming on his face contagious and spreading to you, you couldn’t help but laugh, teeth clashing as you both giggled softly, basking in each other’s warmth, wandering hands and lingering kisses making you dizzy. It took quite the fight for Soobin to pull away, the constant chase of your lips bringing him back in for countless more kisses, his lips swollen and cheeks warm.

Placing a gentle hand on your face, he pulled away, laughing softly at your dazed expression, eyes slowly opening as you took in your surroundings.

Your heart burst, the seemingly endless efforts that you put in to woo Soobin leaving you to do one last thing to celebrate;

You scoot back slightly, cheering loudly.

Choi Soobin was yours.

✩☆♡☆✩

-Bonus haha <3

“Does that mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?” You asked, barely containing your smile as you peppered his face with kisses. He whined out your name, gently pushing you away, his cheeks warming up.

“Come on, not here,” he muttered, dimples poking at his cheeks as he watched you cling to him hopelessly, hiding your face in his shirt as you tried to contain your happy giggles.

“Oh my god can you guys just go away?!” You looked back to find your friends staring at you with appalled expressions, suddenly remembering that you weren’t alone. Hueningkai rolled his eyes, continuing to bash the two of you.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but their weird ass flirting was more bearable than this.”

You shrugged, turning back to Soobin, who smiled warmly at you.

No, this is most definitely better than the flirting.

[ficscollection]

5:13 pm | c.bg

it was raining about a week ago but I was so warm and sleepy in my room that I came up with this :) hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Beomgyu x reader

Genre: fluff, domestic!au

Word Count: 663

It’s a quiet, rainy day when Beomgyu calls. 

TXT Masterlist

[ 5:13 pm: rain on the window like your lips on my face ] you’re mid-yawn, half settling into a nap, when beomgyu calls. 

“good morning.”

you roll your eyes so hard you’re certain he can hear it over the phone. “it’s mid afternoon.”

“it’s morning somewhere.” to punctuate the inane thought he yawns, which causes you to yawn as well, more deeply than before.

“piss off,” you say when the ping pong round of yawns is finished, fondly, so fondly that neither of you can hold back a laugh when you stop speaking. “what do you want?”

on the other end beomgyu sighs softly, more of a brief exhalation than anything, but somehow the tiny sound seems to wrap around you like the warm blanket already settled over your shoulders, relaxing any final tensions in your face and body and dragging your eyelids down further. “’m warm. and sleepy.”

“so am I.” you blink your eyes open a little more to look out of your window, at the gray sky and clouds scattering rain onto the panes of glass. it’s cold outside, you know, but somehow that just makes you feel warmer, burrowed all comfortable into your blankets and pillows as rain drums steadily on the roof. like the rain isn’t just water pattering on glass, but beomgyu’s lips pressing kisses to your skin. “I was almost napping, jerk.”

“oops,” beomgyu says with so little sincerity that you have to snort. “you should come over. be warm ‘n sleepy together.”

you ponder the thought. it’s certainly an inviting one, curling up with your boyfriend in his comfortable bed with his comfortable warmth on a rainy day like this, but more inviting than the warmth of your own blankets right now? “you come over here,” you bargain, “and we can still be warm and sleepy together.”

“no, you come here.”

“no, you.”

“no, you.”

“no -”

“I’ll pay for takeout.”

damn. he does know you too well. already your mouth is starting to water at the thought of your favorite dish from your favorite restaurant, of sitting on the floor of beomgyu’s tiny apartment and eating together because you’re too tired to sit at his equally tiny dining table. “I hate you,” you say with no real venom because you’re smiling a little too hard, but it’s fine because you can practically hear beomgyu’s smile too. 

“I’ll order the usual,” he says, and despite the fact that he’s won your little mini argument, the quiet certainty in his voice makes your smile grow softer. you fell in love with beomgyu’s brightness, his laugh, the way he seems to exude the rays of the sun even on the darkest of days, but it was a pleasant discovery to learn of his softness, his gentle romanticism, the quieter ways in which he’s patiently learned to care for you behind the sunlit smiles and cackling laughs. “unless you want something else?”

“no, that’s perfect.” with that, you finally acquiesce to the need to slip out from under your soft, warm blankets, to stumble out of bed and slip on your coat and shoes, tucking an umbrella under your arm. “I’ll pick up snacks. be there soon.”

the force of beomgyu’s smile that you can’t see hits you even through the phone, infusing you with a warmth that doesn’t fade even as you prepare to step into the cold rain. “counting the minutes.”

“I’m going to be late on purpose,” you threaten. 

he laughs easily. “no, you won’t.”

he’s right. you won’t, and he knows it. you sigh, still smiling. “don’t fall asleep before I get there.”

“no promises,” he mumbles, and privately you think that even if he did fall asleep, you wouldn’t be so upset. “get here faster and you might catch me before I pass out.”

“you drive a hard bargain.” with that, you start to put your phone down. “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

on the other end, beomgyu yawns, but even that couldn’t disguise the fondness in his garbled words. “I love you too.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t hesitate to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3