#choi soobin hard thoughts

[izzyy-stuff]

soobin with a mommy kink

oh hell yeah

mommy kink, breast play, breeding kink, oral (f. receiving)

You could feel that something changed once you got pregnant, Soobin’s eyes suddenly wider, following your every step, his sentences an absolute mess when he watched you change. It was weird. He’s seen you so many times, he put a whole baby into you, and yet he could still get embarrassed when you changed in front of him? 

He got even weirder after you gave birth, practically drooling when you breastfeed your baby. And soon, you found out why that was. 

“Please,” he begs, his large hands on your waist, looking up at you like he’d do anything for just a taste. You watch him, thinking about it for a second. You were supposed to go out with your friends, take out your baby for some fresh air and enjoy yourself, but how could you with Soobin on his knees in front of you, asking for you. “Mommy, please.” 

Your eyes widen at his words, watching his cock twitch in his pants. Oh? “You wanna please mommy?” You question and he immediately nods, a soft whine escaping his lips. “You’re so pretty, so soft,” his hands come up to squeeze your breast and that’s enough for you to give in, guiding him to your shared bed. 

His lips are on your chest in an instant, messily tugging your bottoms down while he sucks on your nipple, mumbling something about how they’ve got bigger. And when he calls you mommy again, a shiver runs down your spine. “I didn’t know you liked mommy so much,” you tease him, running a hand through his hair. He whimpers, a sound so pretty your pussy clenches around nothing. 

“Want to put another baby into mommy,” he mumbles, kissing his way down your stomach. “Want to see her stuffed with my babies.” 

“You’ll have to be good for mommy first then,” you say, biting back your moan as you guide his head between your thighs. “I’ll be so good,” he promises, placing a few gentle kisses on your inner thigh. You smile, nodding as he buries himself in your wetness, sucking on your clit like it’s the only thing he knows how to do. Your eyes roll back, head hitting the pillow behind you and your back arching forward, his moans and whimpers against your pussy bringing you closer to the edge. You rock your hips against his mouth, his words about being good for mommy echoing in your ears. A part of you regrets not knowing about his fantasy soon because if you did, you’d definitely let him live through it even before you had his baby.

[adorehyyuka]

desperate soobie <3

smut mdni

warnings: somno, mentions of piss (not sexual), soobin's desperate desperate, overstimulation, handjob, oral (soob receiving), mention of tears but not dacryphilia, nipple play, tiniest bit of praise, multiple orgasms (only mentioned), not proofread, idrk if I like this, lmk if I missed anything!

when you woke up in the middle of the night to something wet between your legs you thought the worst. did you, a grown adult, just piss themselves ?? but as soon as you went to move you became painfully aware of your boyfriend's shuffling and breathless whimpers bedside you. slimy and moist fapping sounds filled the room and you could feel yourself beginning to get worked up at the thought of soobins lewd actions.

"soobin ? if you were horny why didn't you wake me up, silly" you yawned and turned around to face your boyfriend but he let out a sob and covered his disheveled face with the hand that wasn't working up and down his angry cock.

"y/n ! n-no, don'- ah ! d-oon't look at me fuck ! 'm sorry, sho sorry, I couldn't help myshelf." Soobins hips bucked up and he tightened his grip around himself, you hushed him and took to running your hands through his damp hair whilst guiding his drenched hand away from himself.

" 's that why I'm sticky ? did you need me ?" you cooed and pressed cool kisses to his flushed face, smiling when he leant into your touch. you watched as Soobin pushed his upper body to meet yours, pathetically trying to catch your lips in his which you made easier for him.

soobin was still breathing heavily, all he could focus on was the painful ache of his cock. he knew it wouldn't do him any good but he couldn't get the image of your pretty lips wrapped around him out of his head. he felt disgusted with himself that an innocent night spent cuddling could turn him into a puddle of desperation.

when you finally decided to wrap your hand around his dick after watching him whimper and squirm Soobin let out something akin to a scream, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his teeth dug into his puffy bunny lips. "fuck you're so sensitive, honey. how many times have you made yourself come ?"

"c-can't remember —shit. ah ! ohhhh fuck, Y/n !" you hum in response, "mhm, what is it, baby ?"

Soobin continued to whine out as you massaged his tip, elevating his sensitivity and bringing him closer to an orgasm

"need you ! need your mouth, please !" the man beneath you cried, wriggling and writhing underneath your gaze. you giggled, pressing gentle kisses to each of his cheeks before patting his thigh. soobin sighed when you started maneuvering yourself to help him.

"lift your hips up for me," he did as you said and you hastily slid his pajamas down the rest of his shaky legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor. "Good boy." you muttered whilst kissing down his body, biting back smiles whenever he twitched. when you reached between his legs all you could see was filth, cum and spit were smeared across his thighs and he was sticky everywhere. you felt a little guilty, how long had Soobin been awake ? your poor poor baby, he must've felt so unsatisfied if he kept going this long :(

Soobin stared down at you with watery eyes, voice trembling as he spoke "please touch me. . ."

your heart melted when he uttered those words and you immediately started kitten licking over his sensitive tip, you wanted to be gentle but your desperate little boyfriend couldn't stop bucking his hips ><

"touch yourself for me, sweetheart." you spoke before engulfing as much of his length as you could with your mouth. Soobin groaned at the feeling and started to pinch and pull at his nipples just like you said to do, he couldn't stop making noise ! it wasn't his fault though :( your mouth was just so warm n wet n so so tight around him, he couldn't not make sounds !

"ha-mngh~ ! 'm close ! please, please, please don't stop !" he wailed and closed his eyes tightly, so overwhelmed but it just felt so so good.

seeing as you couldn't say anything with your boyfriends cock stuffed down your throat you took your hands and started stroking circles on each of his thighs to try and ground him, and as much as it seemed like it wasn't working what with his constant squealing and sobs, Soobin appreciated the gesture.

soon enough the stimulation became too much and his hands became limp and all he could utter were little 'ah, ah ah's, each one getting higher in pitch and volume, which was his little tell.

you pulled your mouth off of him completely and started jerking him instead, smiling as he unraveled. (further than he already had) "come for me, baby. 's okay let go" you repeated until Soobin spilled all over your hand and his lower tummy.

as soon as he'd come down from his very satisfying and fulfilling high he began to whine out for something to hold, too far gone to even think about using proper words.

"y/nie.." he called out and within five seconds he had himself laying on your chest. you smiled, peering down at him while you threaded your fingers through his wet hair.

"c'mon, sweetheart. let's clean you up and then you can sleep for however long you want"

series mlist

© hyyukas

tag list open, @cinnikoi @zzstar @mini-mews

[ikeukiss]

LOVE IS THE BEST MEDICINE | 최수빈

⟢ PAIRING: choi soobin x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 2.1K ⟢ GENRE: smut, semi-angst, fluff ⟢ TAGS: established relationship!au, semi-pwp, pet names, makeup sex, chest worship, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: One fight and a few days of space leads to a particularly passionate reconciliation.

It’s so easy to acquiesce to someone begging for forgiveness when they come bearing your favorite snacks.

It doesn’t help that your boyfriend also looks so adorable rain-soaked and pouting, the bag of your most-loved, edible junk dangling on his wrist. He hasn’t said the words exactly, neither verbally nor through text, but you can see in his face that the white flag is raised for you to accept.

“Can I, y’know—” The question dies on Soobin’s lips, his eyes saying all that he needs to at this point. Please let me in. 

I love you and I’m sorry. These past three days have been hell without you.

By the time the bag is discarded on the kitchen counter and your body is intertwined with Soobin on your bed, you can barely recall what the fight was about in the first place. 

From your memory, it had something to do Soobin’s increasingly tight schedule and his inability to spend quality time with you past every other weekend. You went off the rails, as anyone would expect.

The rain outside bears down on your apartment windows. The weather distracted you from the simmering irritation you felt at the texts Soobin quickly answered in between random scenes of the movie still playing on your living room television. It had been infrequent enough that he could kiss away most of your ire, but after the third text from Beomgyu, you’d had enough.

“I can’t believe you,” you grumbled, wanting to rip his phone from his hands and chuck it at the wall.

“What did I do, bunny?” The words came out so nonchalantly, like he had no idea what you were referring to. They made a well of tears form in your eyes, your emotions unrelenting in their sudden assault.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes? Now can you stop talking in riddles, baby?” The chuckle was what did you in, immediately taking the hand he wrapped around your shoulder and yanking it from your body.

“Do you even care about this relationship anymore?” You asked, tears streaming down your face as you jumped off the couch and away from Soobin. You were exasperated that on all the nights he could’ve been splitting his attention between work and play, it had to be during the only night you got to be alone together. 

“How can you even say that?” Soobin said the words with another chuckle, but it was clear in the furrow of his brow that he was growing as angry as you were. He didn’t want the night to be ruined by your accusations and bristly attitude, not when he didn’t know the next day he’d be able to spend another night at your place without interruptions. “Where’s this coming from?”

“If you don’t want to be here with me, then leave, Soob. Clearly, you have more important things to do. More important than me, anyway.” You knew when the words left your lips that you were being ridiculous. But all you were pining for was some reassurance.

Soobin, however, was fed up at that point, unwilling to cater to your ridiculous and covert demands. “Do you realize how crazy you sound right now? I always want to spend time with you, but you can’t expect me not to do what I’m supposed to. It’s my job.”

The second the word crazy pieced the air, you saw red. “So I’m crazy for wanting to spend some time with you without being bombarded by outside influences? God forbid I expect my boyfriend to pay attention once in a while.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Then what did you mean, then? Because all I heard was you sounding like a dick.”

Anger passed over his eyes. He leapt up from the couch and stomped over to your spot in the kitchen to face you head on, his chest rising up and down with bated breaths. “Now I’m a dick for just expressing to you how I feel? That’s a bit hypocritical don’t you think? I didn’t call you a bitch for being unreasonable all day, even though I have every right to with how you’re behaving.”

You take in a shaky breath and cross your arms. “Just get out then, Soobin. If I’m such a bitch and you can’t handle me being honest.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want.” He left you with one last look of pain before slamming the door closed.

You felt intense guilt for handling the situation the way you did, your pride and anger creating a cold war you didn’t want to start in the first place. And you were certain Soobin felt his own level of regret for not giving you the attention you deserved as of late. Not only had those three days let you both to clear your heads, but also allowed you some time to reflect on how to come back together following such a heated encounter.

Clearly, it didn’t take much effort to mend fences the second you saw him on the other side of your door.

You relish in the feeling of Soobin’s lips on your neck and his hands pressed to your bare breasts underneath your hoodie. What’s the point of rehashing past issues, anyway? It doesn’t matter when he’s so loving when he holds you with both tenderness and impatience, needing to feel you close in every possible way.

 He pinches and palms you with little decorum, pleased to hear the gasps and moans that leave your mouth. In spite of the irritation that still lingers from being away from you for so long, he only wants to please you. It’s all he’s ever wanted, even on days like the one a week ago that started all of this. When you both could've pulled each other’s hair out, he still loved you then, and loves you even more now, not willing to spend another second separated from you.

He discards the garment and his own sweatshirt to feel the heat of your skin on his lips. He takes one nipple into his mouth hungrily, still holding onto your free breast with one hand, loving your curves and the heftiness of his favorite parts of you.

“I should still be angry with you,” he grunts, releasing your nipple with a lewd pop and hovers over the other before staring up at you. “But I love you too much.”

“Prove it,” you whisper, moving his hands to the sides of your pajama shorts.

He doesn’t need any reminders to pleasure you, the thought always lingering in the back of his mind despite his desire to remain composed and gentlemanlike in your presence. But, it’s nice to be assured you want it as much as he does.

And you know by now how much he loves you, the days without you building too large of a cavern in his chest for him to stay away. From the fidgeting of your hips in his hold and the writhing of your center against his aching cock, it was evident you couldn’t put up much of a fight anymore either the second you dragged him into your room.

Soobin tastes the wetness between your thighs with eagerness. He loves the way you instantly squeeze your legs around his head, your body’s sensitivity on high. A mixture of pleasure and pain crosses your face at the feeling of his tongue flicking incessantly across your clit and folds. A little over seventy-two hours of separation should not make you so needy, so pathetic for any form of contact you can get.

You can’t feel too bad, though. Soobin shares the same level of desperation when he finally slides inside of you moments later, the taste of you satiating him just enough before he becomes mad with lust.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispers as he slams his hips into yours, his pelvic bones meeting yours with every deliberately slow thrust of his body. “And all mine.”

You nod vigorously, the only reaction you can muster. “Yes, yes, yes,” you agree, quick compliance leaving your lips to go back to focusing on soaking in the sensations you’ve been without. More of him, all of him, but it’s not enough.

Soobin watches the way your chest bounces with every plunge of his cock inside of you, your nipples still erect and glistening from his previous attention to them. He suckles one back into his mouth, needing to feel the bud between his teeth as he continues driving a slow, cruel pace.

If this is how he can release what’s left of his pent-up frustration from the fight, so be it. You’ll just have to take it.

“Binnie, please go faster,” you beg, clawing your nails down his back to prove how torturous his slow lovemaking is for what’s left of your composure.

His devilish eyes stare at yours through his lashes, his lips still ravishing your chest while his hips remain in the clasp of the tempo he’s set. From the tenseness of his jaw and the grip he has on your body, you discern he has no intention of listening to your pleas.

You try to buck your hips into his to feel him deeper and harder, to make what you want happen on your own, but he doesn’t accept it. He presses both of your hips into the mattress with his hands, splaying his fingers out wide to keep you still.

“Just because I love you, bunny, doesn’t mean I’m still not upset,” he says through gritted teeth.

“As if I’m still not mad at you,” you tease, clinging onto his backside to urge him to give you what you need.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be mad when I’m about to make you come.” Soobin removed his hand from one of your hips to glide his fingers through your wetness, your clit so willing to be touched again.

“Then let’s call a truce,” you gasp, your body betraying you by falling prey to every touch and kiss Soobin provides. “Go faster and I’ll let it go.”

Soobin chuckles and presses a kiss to your cheek. “How about you apologize first and then I’ll do what you want.”

“Fine, fucking fine,” you huff. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have kicked you out, now please fuck me, pretty please.”

He kisses you hard, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip before he clamps down on the plush skin with his teeth. “As you wish, bunny.”

Not removing his hand from your clit, he drives into you harder, your bodies slapping together loudly as he increases his speed. He flicks his thumb and index finger against your clit fast, matching the new tempo of his hips beautifully.

Your eyes roll back into your head, practically feeling the tip of his cock in the back of your throat from how deep, hard, and quick he’s thrusting. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, Binnie,” you say, closer to seeing white than ever before.

“Come, sweetheart. Come all over me.”

You whimper as you fall off the precipice, your body trembling as it floods with endorphins from your orgasm. 

Soobin falls apart in quick succession after you, his seed flooding the insides of your walls. Some of it seeps out with the shallow thrusts he gives following his release, but he makes sure to stuff it back in with both his cock and fingers.

He kisses one of your temples, the skin soaked with sweat. “I love you, you know?” He whispers the words into your skin, rubbing his arms over your sides and pecking at your neck with his lips.

“I love you too,” you say earnestly, blushing from his sweet nothings following such intense lovemaking.

But it’s never nothing, especially not after days of worrying he had had enough of you.

You take a hand and place it under his chin, forcing him to look up at you. You choke up when you say, “I really am sorry.”

He smiles and smothers your face in kisses, the final one pressed long and deeply onto your lips. “There’s nothing to be sorry for anymore, bunny. I forgave you the second you let me in.”

He nestles you close to his side, pressing your back to his chest. “I’m sorry, too. It’s you and me, always.”

You smile to yourself and affirm his words with your own. “Always.”

And with perfect ease, you fall asleep in the safety of his arms, knowing all is forgiven and nothing is as important as two hearts realigned as one.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy @hursheys

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @moadiarynet @lapydiaries @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[vixialuvs]

Hello, I would like to make a request for the submissive Soobin who feels needy in the early morning and the rest is up to your imagination > < I apologize in advance if something is written wrong or is not clear, it is because I am using the translator TT.

MORNING SEX !

୨୧ pairing - choi soobin x fem reader

୨୧ cw - smut, sub soobin, needy soobin, morning sex, vanilla, thigh fucking, kissing, marking (soobin receiving) soft!dom reader, pet names (baby, bunny, pretty boy), short fic

୨୧ a/n - don’t apologize for using translator love, it’s fine! also soobin morning sex mueheehehhe

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

the sun has barely peeked out from the horizon yet, no light shining through your windows, covered by sheer lace curtains that you and soobin picked out last time you went to ikea. they reminded him of you and he insisted on getting them.

you are having a peaceful slumber, holding soobin in your arms, despite his body being so much longer then yours. his face is buried in your breasts, nuzzling them in his sleep.

but, alas, the morning does not stay quiet, a soft, needy whimpering sounding out through the room. it’s slightly muffled but you can feel the vibrations of soobins voice against your chest and his cock grinding against your thigh.

you stir rather quickly, being a light sleeper, your eyes drifting downwards to the whiny boy sprawled over you, his hands beginning to slip under the waistband of your sleeping shorts.

you playfully swat his hand away and he freezes, realizing you’re awake. his grinding however, does not stop.

“y/nie.. i need you.”

his voice is so soft and sleepy, it’s adorable, causing you to coo at him and start petting his hair. you are next to speak, whispering your words against the top of his head.

“use your words.. what do you want?”

your voice has the slightest hint of teasing in it, causing his breath to pick up as he practically melts against you.

“can i fuck your thighs? please? i want you so bad, baby. i love you so much.. i’ll be a good boy. jus’ wanna cum..”

his begging makes the heat between your thighs unbearable as you nod, helping him pull off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his huge dick. you adjust your position so he can comfortably push his cock between your thighs, letting out the loudest noises as you start kissing down his neck, leaving a trail of marks in your path.

“you’re mine baby. nobody else’s okay? you don’t fuck anyone else’s thighs like this, yeah? your my pretty boy?”

you let out a groan, gently biting his neck, which makes his moans crescendo once more.

“fuck, your doing so well bunny.”

you mumble against his neck, his pace slowly speeding up as he starts panting, his hands fondling with your breasts. you can tell he’s close to cumming, and a smirk forms on your lips. you squeeze your thighs around his cock, which instantly makes him cum all over them.

“thank you.. love you s’ much.. felt so good.”

he goes limp in your arms, pulling his cock out from between your thighs, gently grabbing a box of wipes from his nightstand to clean off your thighs and his cock. he massages your thigh slowly, giving you a soft kiss before he nuzzles his face into your neck and hugs you.

the sun has now turned the sky orange, slowly rising up above the mountains, the tiniest bit of light shining through your pretty curtains. but you don’t mind, and neither does soobin.

once more, the two of you drift off in each others arms, completely content.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

@vixialuvs . thank you so much for reading ! do not plagiarize, steal or copy my work . reblogs appreciated !

[soobinspet]

Not being in Soobin’s bed every night riding his dick, choking him, kissing him while he whimpers and moans is the saddest part about my life :((

[dawngyu]

‎₊ ˚ ⊹ ིྀ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝖻𝗈𝗅 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗂 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇 𝗑 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾-𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

He stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. His shaking hands hold your wrists. Droplets slide from his hair, tracing the sharp angles of his face, mixing with the storm clinging to his skin as he stares at your face. You feel it before you hear it. You see it before he speaks. "Marry me." It's his last attempt to keep you from walking away.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: chaebol au, strangers to lovers, angst, family issues, toxic societal norms, yearning, longing.

𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍-𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: MDNI, multiple-smut scene, heavy make-out, body-worship, nipple-play, fingering, oral!fem receiving.

𝗐𝖼: 17.5k — playlist.

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: hi hello!! to clear things up, this is a spin-off of the main story but each txt male lead gets their own reader! (aka you, heh). other female leads might show up for the plot, but they’ll stay nameless.

(definitely read the first part if you haven’t — but you can read this as a standalone!) see the event 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

If there is one truth that time cannot taint in your life, it is your love for flowers. They bloom unburdened, much like the love you cradle for things that ask for nothing in return.

Perhaps you were a flower in your previous life — maybe that’s why people have always likened you to one. A flower is something delicate, something beautiful, something that marks in memory with its scent and colour. Yet if you were to tell the real reason why they call you that, it wouldn’t be for any of those things. It wouldn’t be because you were particularly graceful or charming.

It would be because you see the world through the eyes of a dreamer, a romantic, someone who clings to the smallest joys as if they were... lifelines.

You cherish the minuscule things, not out of whimsy but out of habit, because you grew up knowing that gratitude was not just a virtue but a necessity. You learned to say thank you for everything placed into your hands, whether it was something you longed for or simply something to fill the space on your plate. Even at nine years old, a meal was never just a meal... it was a gift.

You don’t blame your parents for leaving. People say you should be grateful — they gave you life, after all. And they did. But not even a year into your existence, they chose their own paths, carving out futures that no longer had room for you. And you never resented them for it, not really.

It doesn’t mean it wasn’t lonely.

No matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, it’s hard so, so hard to grow up in a house that never truly felt like home. Hard to wake up each morning knowing there’s no mother to greet you, no father’s voice to remind you you’re safe. Hard to fall asleep at night, knowing that if a nightmare came, there would be no one there to hold you.

No one at all.

They're happy, somewhere out there. Twin sisters from your father’s side, three brothers from your mother’s. And you were happy for them, truly. They had their lives, their homes, their own worlds to tend to. They checked in when they could — once, maybe twice a month, just enough to remind you they were still out there. Just enough to keep you from forgetting... while you stayed with your grandmother.

And that was enough. Or at least, it had to be.

“Nana,” you sigh, “You just watched that yesterday. Are you sure you want to go again?”

“Yes. Mom.”

You continued to scrub the plate she ate from, forcing a smile. She’s called you Mom again. It happens often now. Some days, you’re her daughter. Other days, her niece, a friend. But most days, you’re her mother.

And that’s fine. It has to be fine. As long as there are still days when she calls you anything at all. Because the worst days, the ones that keep you up at night, are the ones when she just looks at you with empty eyes, searching your face like you’re a stranger.

You swallow hard and turn back to her. “Did you take your meds, Nana?”

"Yes."

You wipe your hands on the kitchen towel, glancing toward the small pillbox on the counter. Walking over, you flip open the lid, scanning the compartments. She took them. A quiet breath of relief escapes you.

“Thank you,” you murmur, closing the box. “After this, we’ll head to bed, okay?”

“Okay.”

You sink onto the couch beside her, adjusting the hem of your floral home dress—the one you tailored yourself, stitching distractions into the fabric on nights when the weight of it all felt unbearable.

Mama Mia plays on the screen, the familiar melodies filling the small space between you. It’s always been her favourite movie. Even after the diagnosis, even as the world around her blurred at the edges, she kept coming back to it.

As if, somehow, it was something she could still hold onto.

You glance at her, watching the way her lips move with the lyrics, her hands tapping against the armrest in time with the music. She remembers this.

“Can I hold your hand while we watch?” you ask softly.

Your grandmother turns to you with a soft smile, her eyes whispering at the corners. She’s seventy-five now, her hair thinner, her hands frail, but to you, she’s still the same. Still beautiful. Still her.

People told you to put her in a nursing home. Said it would be easier, that it was the practical choice. But how could you? How could you leave the one person who never left you? The person who held your hand through every scraped knee, every heartbreak. The only real family you have.

Her frail fingers squeeze yours gently. Then, just as you turn back to the movie, you hear it.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Your breath halts. You tear your gaze from the screen, eyes wide, heart pounding. It’s been months — months of her calling you by the wrong names, or worse, not calling you anything at all. But now, she’s looking right at you, remembering you. A lump sits in your throat as tears sting your eyes. You grip her hand tighter.

“I love you too, Nana,” you whisper, voice shaking.

And you do. More than anything. Even if one day, she forgets. Even if, someday, she doesn’t remember you at all.

You slide the key into the lock, your right shoulder weighed down by the new pots you picked up earlier. As the door swings open, the soft chime of the bell echoes through the quiet shop. Stepping inside, you nudge the door shut behind you and flip the sign to OPEN with a satisfied smile.

It’s 10 a.m., and the morning light spills in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the flowers on display. Running your fingers gently over delicate petals, you inhale their fresh scent, the fragrance mixing with the faint traces of paint lingering on the walls — your own handiwork, soft strokes of color bringing the shop to life.

You set your bag down behind the counter and power on the computer, scrolling through the day’s orders. Five minutes pass in a comfortable rhythm before the familiar chime rings again. The door swings open.

Someone’s here.

"Good morning!" You greet with a warm smile, but your voice falters just slightly as you take him in. He’s not the usual type to wander into a flower shop. Dressed in a sharp, black tailored suit, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence. The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose add to his composed demeanor, but it’s his presence — towering in the doorway, making the shop feel smaller somehow, catches you off guard.

Still, you keep your smile, smoothing the surprise on your chest. "Are you looking for any particular flowers?"

He glances at you and gives a small nod — a quick acknowledgment that he’s heard you. It’s familiar. You’ve dealt with customers like this before, the ones who prefer to browse in silence before saying what they need.

You nod back slightly, a polite gesture, then shift your gaze back to your computer, trying to shake off the strange unease prickling at you. He hasn’t even spoken yet, and still, something about him makes your pulse tick faster.

Why?

“I'm looking to have a funeral arrangement made.” he says suddenly, making you blink and look up.

His eyes meet yours.

You cleared your throat, "I'm sorry for your loss." You try to follow the routine speech that you have. "Let me get my book and I'll assist you. Please, take a seat."

You point towards the table, a round wooden structure with three matching chairs, a small white vase holding a fresh boquet decorated the center. He quickly followed your instructions, pulling the chair as it scraped on along the wooden floorboards before they sit with a sigh.

You took a quick glance at him again, watching as he fishes out his phone, one of the brands that is you think the latest release, and you see a unique looking rolex in his wrists. You avert your eyes as soon as you did, and your eyes catch the black car parked in front of your store.

Your store.

Your small humble store that is stark comparison compared to everything this man have.

You cleared your thoughts as to why he chose this place to buy flowers. You turned around to gather your book filled with arrangements.

"Do you run this place by yourself?" As you reach for the leather spine of the book, you glance over your shoulder, meeting his eyes already on yours.

He didn’t respond, even as you took a seat across from him. Still, you could feel his gaze following you. You pushed the roses aside, their petals bruised from restless handling, and replaced them with the open book. Its pages, worn thin, exhaled the faint, bitter-sweet scent of aged paper — a comfort you almost resented tonight.

He stayed silent, his arms draped over the table, eyes steady. His presence bled into the air, heavy and warm, as though the room itself bent around him. You swore you could see it — something low and smoldering radiating off of him, a slow burn that clawed past the polished edges he wore so well.

You tore your gaze away before it could swallow you whole.

You tighten your grip on the pen. “May I have the full name of the deceased?” Your hand drifts across the top of the page, hovering over the empty space waiting to be filled, just as you wait for his answer.

When it comes, it lands harder than you expect.

“It… doesn’t have a full name,” he says quietly. Your eyes lift to meet his. “But we call him Moon.”

Your breath catches. There’s only one meaning behind words like that. A child. Your mind pulls back into dim memories; the parents who’d come to your shop before, searching for flowers with little else to offer but love for someone whose life never had the chance to unfold. Your lips part, but no sound comes. You drop your gaze, forcing it back down to the blank page. You’ve done this before — too many times — but it still finds a way to shake you.

Pushing through the heaviness in your chest, you press the pen to paper and write the name.

Moon.

“And what are you looking for in this arrangement?” The words burn as they leave you, bitter and dry, clinging to the back of your throat. You wait, feeling the seconds stretch thin between you.

“What do you think?”

You should know. This is what you do — what you’ve poured years into. Flowers have been your language longer than words ever have. But it’s always this question that unravels you. It pulls at the seams of whatever certainty you pretend to hold. Of course you have ideas. They come in flashes,but what are they worth?

What if it’s wrong? What if it’s not enough?

The thoughts spiral fast, like they always do. Familiar and merciless, burrowing deep where you can’t shake them loose. They weigh heavy in your chest, anchoring themselves into the cracks of a confidence too fragile to stand against them. You sit there, hollowed out and grasping for something to offer this man, something that won’t disappoint him, or worse, dishonor what he’s lost.

A baby. A mother greiving. And now this man, carrying his own mourning, offering no guidance to make the task easier. Your fingers twitch, restless and unsure. You have to give him something. Anything.

“Well, for funerals, people usually gravitate toward chrysanthemums,” you say, lifting your free hand toward the cluster of blooms sitting in their vases to the right. His gaze follows where you gesture. “Lilies are another favorite,” you add, motioning to the soft petals hanging to the left. “And people often ask for—”

“But what do you think?” His voice cuts through yours, making your words falter. Slowly, your eyes meet his, and he holds your gaze across the table. “What do you gravitate toward?”

“White roses,” you murmur, your gaze flicking away from him and toward the blooms resting quietly in the front window of the shop. “They symbolize… eternal love, and remembrance.” Your voice softens. “If it were me… someday… I think it would make me happiest to be remembered that way. To be loved like that, even after.”

When you finish, your eyes drift back to his, uncertain, before you quickly lower them to the blank page in front of you. “Sorry,” you whisper, flinching at your own rambling.

“No.” His voice is firmer this time, “Don’t be sorry. Tell me more.”

You swallow hard. Your heartbeat stirs faster in your chest, a throb blooming from the tender cut on your fingertip. You breathe through it.

“Forget-me-nots,” you say. “I suppose… I’d start with a base of hyacinths, then layer in forget-me-nots and foliage as filler. And maybe top it off with white roses.”

“Think you can have it ready in two days?” he asks, his gaze shifting toward the rosebuds waiting to be trimmed on the table. “That’s when the memorial service will be.”

You nod before the words even catch up to you. “Yes, yes. That’s no problem.” You lower your head and start to write, sketching out the arrangement you’d described, even as your hand strains to keep steady against the shake running deep in your chest.

“Here.” He sets a small black bag on the table. You don’t have to open it to know — from the weight, the way it sits — it’s easily a week’s worth of your shop’s earnings.

“That’s too much. It’ll only be —”

“It’s the least I can do,”His voice is gentle but leaves no room to argue.“I doubt many would have come up with something as thoughtful as yours.”

“Please… I can’t let you overpay.” Your hand rests on the bag, fingers curling around the edge as you begin to slide it back toward him but his hand meets yours, halting you. His fingertips graze against your skin.

His eyes catch yours, and the words die between your parted lips, caught somewhere too deep to reach. Slowly, he stands from his chair, his hand slipping away from the pouch. You watch him smooth out the front of his coat, before stepping toward the center of the table. His fingers reach for the rose in front of you. The stem just one thorn away from being trimmed. The same thorn that had cut you earlier. “I’ll take this too, then,” he says. “Is that alright with you?”

The nervousness clawing at your chest tightens, cinching your breath and locking the words in your throat. It burns — sharp and hot, like a brand searing them shut. You can only nod, managing the smallest smile before your eyes drop, trailing back down to the thorn that had drawn your blood.

You reach for your shears and rise from your chair, stepping toward him.

“I’d just started working on this one when you came in,” you murmur, lifting the sharp edge to the base of the stem. His fingers shift aside, careful and slow, as you steady the blades around the thorn. His eyes stay on you, not on the flower, not on your hands, but on the furrow of your brow as you focus.

You sense the moment he holds his breath.

With one clean motion, you clip the thorn away. “Thank you,” you say, your voice soft and thinner than you meant it to be.

��Thank you,” he echoes. His tone mirrors yours, but heavier somehow. “I look forward to seeing what you create.” He turns toward the door, tall frame gliding in that unhurried way of his, but he doesn’t touch the handle yet. His body shifts just enough to glance back. “By the way… I should get your name.”

“Y/N,” you answer. The name comes easy, but your breath feels uneven behind it. “And yours?”

You’ve never been like this before. Never so openly invested in someone you’d barely exchanged a few scattered words with. Never so quick to give away your curiosity. But here you stand; unmoving, staring, studying him more openly than you’d dare with anyone else.

He smiles. Barely. So faint you might have missed it entirely… if you weren’t so completely, foolishly locked on him. Enough of a curve to tug at the corner of his mouth. And there, a small hollow moves in his cheek. Does it get deeper when he really smiles? Does his smile reach his eyes?

Your throat tightens at the thought, inexplicable.

“Soobin,”

He came back two days later. Right when he said he would. When you handed him the arrangement, his eyes lingered on it longer than you expected. His face didn’t shift much, but you caught it, a flicker of surprise, as though he hadn’t entirely expected it to look the way it did. As though he hadn’t expected you to remember it so well.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low, steady. And before you could step back or fold the moment away, he spoke again. Another request. The same one. For next week.

And that’s how it started.

It became a pattern before you realized you’d memorized it. Every week, almost the same day, he returned. Always asking for the same thing. And it took so little, for you to start waiting for him. You didn’t need to admit you were. It was clear enough in the way your hands moved faster on the mornings you thought he might show up. The way you found yourself glancing at the clock more often. The way your breath shifted, when the bell over the door chimed and you hoped it would be him.

The weeks folded into months before you realized how quickly the time had passed.

“Your wife must be having a hard time,” you say quietly, watching him from behind the counter as his fingers brush along the edges of the newest arrangement vases you’d set out last week. Your voice tries to sound casual, light enough not to pry. “But she’s lucky to have you.”

It’s the only explanation that ever made sense. The one you’d quietly settled on back when he first asked for those mourning flowers. That was how you’d made sense of it. How you’d made peace with why the arrangements always felt so heavy.

He stops. “Wife?” His brow lifts, faint confusion softening the lines around his eyes.

Your throat pulls tight. “Uh… yeah,” you fumble, heat creeping up the back of your neck. “… How is she recovering?”

There’s a pause. His stare doesn’t waver. His jaw sets, just enough that you can tell he’s measuring something inside before letting the words go.

“It’s for my sister.”

Sister. All this time, you thought you understood. The flowers, the endless varieties he carefully chose week after week — they were for his sister. That’s what you told yourself. It made sense. She must be the one who lost a child. A grief so cavernous that even the brightest blooms could barely soften its edges. You could understand it. the tenderness of a brother trying to tether her to something gentle. The quiet, steady ritual of bringing beauty to someone drowning.

But one year have passed. One year, and still, he comes.

You watch Soobin now, and something inside you twists sharp and deep. Your throat pulls tight, a burn clawing up the back of your eyes, your heart thrashing in your chest like it’s frantic to be let loose. His fingers move across the petals with reverence, the kind of touch meant for something breakable, sacred. As though each flower is an apology too heavy to speak aloud. A brother so devoted, so relentless in his quiet offerings — and surely he has a life beyond this. A job. Responsibilities. People waiting for him. And yet here he is. Always here. Always returning, as though caught in some private penance only he can feel, rooted in your little shop like he doesn’t know where else to go. Every week, standing in the hush of your little shop like a man trying to repent for a sin he never committed.

The flowers… you’ve always loved them. They’re stitched with meanings you’ve memorized like scripture; hope, solace, rebirth. They ask for nothing in return, and still, they give so much. The burn behind your eyes sharpens as you watch him, your mind comparing him to one, your chest aching in places you thought you’d long since sealed shut.

You wrap the arrangement slowly, careful with each fold and knot. Your heart thuds against your ribs like it’s trying to outrun the thoughts crowding your chest. The ones you don’t say out loud. The thought unsettles you more than it should. It coils tight in your gut, sharp and sickening. Because part of you already knows — one day, the door won’t open. One day, he won’t come anymore. You hear his footsteps before you see him. He’s seen that you’re nearly done ,the bouquet he asked for, the one you’ve handled like it’s something sacred. You feel his presence before you meet his eyes.

You don’t know why. You can’t name it, not exactly. Maybe it’s the dread that coils in your stomach that there will be a day you wake on a day he’s supposed to come, only to find the hours slipping by, the bell above the door never ringing. And before you can stop yourself, before your good sense can catch up to your mouth, the words tumble out. “Would you want to go out sometime?”

You instantly regret it, the way your voice cracked, the way you can’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” you say quickly, fumbling. “That was, I didn’t mean to put you in an awkward position. If it’s invasive or —”

“Yes.” You blink. His expression is steady, unshaken. “Yes,” he says again, softer this time. “I was going to ask you, too.”

Your breath stumbles in your chest. You nod, unsure of what to say, heart hammering loud enough to drown out everything else, but he goes on, “Next week. Same day, same time. Let’s do that.”

You nod again, this time slower. Something settles in your chest, light but anchoring. “And,” he adds, as he picks up the bouquet, “make another arrangement.” You glance at him, brows lifting in question. “Anything you want,” he says. “Doesn’t matter what it costs. Just… make something for me.”

You swallow the rush in your throat, the spark behind your ribs. You can already feel the stems in your hands, the petals under your fingers. You don’t know what you’ll make yet but you know it will say everything you can’t.

“Okay.”

You stare at the bouquet as it slumps at the edge of the table. The one you arranged so carefully, over and over again for days.

Dawn had already cracked the sky.

Now, the gloss on your lips is gone, long since faded like the sun. The coat you pressed at sunrise feels stiff, resentful, like it's been waiting just as long. Your spine aches from sitting too straight for too many hours, and your breath trembles in your throat, thin and cold.

He said he’d be here before lunch. He said he’d take you out.

He never came.

Maybe he got held up. Maybe it slipped his mind. Maybe something urgent came up. You tell yourself these things because it’s easier than the alternative. Still, the silence wraps around you too tightly. It hums in your ears, thick and heavy, until the only thing left is the dull thud of your heartbeat, knocking against your ribs like it’s looking for a way out.

Your eyes sting. Are you even allowed to cry over this?

“Well,” you murmur, voice thinner than you’d like, “let’s get you to a vase.” Carefully, you gather the arrangement, fingertips grazing the petals. You breathe in — soft, floral, faintly sweet — and hold it there.

Your movements felt slow. Deliberate, almost. Strange, when these steps had always come easy to you, and yet, you lingered. As if dragging out every motion might somehow buy him time to show. Your gaze settles on the bouquet now resting in the vase. You exhale, slow and shallow, but no words rise to meet the breath. There’s nothing left to say. Nothing worth breaking the quiet for. Turning to the door, your steps this time are steady, unhesitant. No more stalling. You did what you could. You waited. You hoped.

And now, it’s clear; he’s not coming.

You were just about to lower the blinds when a familiar car slid to a stop out front. Your breath caught, frozen tight in your chest. You didn’t move, didn’t blink, as the driver’s door flung open before the engine had even settled into idle. There he was, the tall figure who’d haunted your thoughts for months, carved into every restless night. Disheveled, frantic, a deep frown cutting across his face.

When his eyes found yours, he ran.

The air slammed back into your lungs so fast it almost hurt. The fog, the static that had smothered you for hours, gone. Blown clean away in one look on his face.

He's here.

“Why did you wait for me?” The words tumbled out the moment he pushed the door open, his gaze locking onto yours. His face, guilt etched into every line. “You waited for me,” he said again, quieter this time. The guilt cracked, crumbled at the edges, and in its place came something softer. His eyes didn’t waver. It was awe, unmistakable and unguarded.

It was as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

The car ride was quiet. His coat rested over your shoulders, warm and grounding, as the streetlights blurred past. Since it was already late, Soobin had offered his place. You didn’t argue.

“We’re here,” he murmured, unbuckling his seatbelt. You’d somehow already undone yours without realizing it, stepping out into the cool air just as he rounded the front of the car to meet you. His hand hovered near the door, but you’d beaten him to it. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, offering a small smile. Your eyes drifted past him, brows pinching slightly as you took in the skyline ahead —towering buildings stretching into the night. Your confusion flickered across your face before you could hide it. “You said your apartment, right?”

He hummed, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. He nodded toward the buildings ahead. “Come on.”

You walked, still puzzled, trailing a step behind him. Your eyes wandered, curious and cautious, as you neared the towering building. Inside, staff seemed to scatter and straighten the moment they caught sight of Soobin. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. Postures snapped upright. The door swung open before either of you reached it.

“Late evening, Mr. Choi,” the security guard greeted, bowing deeply. The others followed suit, dipping their heads in swift, practiced motions. It felt surreal. Like you’d stumbled into the middle of a K-drama you used to watch. Like you were seeing something you weren’t meant to. Soobin didn’t slow. He didn’t pause at the front desk like everyone else did. He just kept walking, glancing back once to make sure you were still with him. When he reached the elevator, he pressed the button without hesitation. The panel lit up, and you caught the word just above it; Penthouse.

Your breath caught, but you masked it quickly, dropping your gaze. That’s when you noticed his hands, resting at his sides, relaxed. The silence wrapped around you again. You shifted your hand, hesitant, pinky inching toward his. You just wanted to hold it — just once. Who knew if you’d get another chance like this? Maybe tomorrow he’d decide you weren’t someone he wanted to see anymore. Maybe you’d bore him. Maybe he’d drift away like people sometimes do.

So just once. Just to know what it felt like.

Your fingers moved closer, careful, unhurried. Barely an inch away — Ding. The elevator chimed, breaking your focus. Your hand froze mid-reach. Soobin turned, catching you dead-on. His gaze flicked down, just fast enough to see the way you yanked your hand back, swatting it away like you’d touched something too hot. “Uh—” you blurted.

His brows lifted slightly, softening — not in mockery, but in surprise. “Stop acting so cute, will you?” he murmured, and his words only deepened the flush on your cheeks. “You’re making it harder for me.”

Before you could even piece together what he meant, his hand reached out. His fingers found yours, threading between them with an ease that made your breath catch. The touch was warm, grounding, and when he gently tugged, you startled just a little. He didn’t say anything about it. He only pulled you softly toward him and guided you into the elevator. The elevator closes, but everything feels distant.

And all the while, his fingers stay laced with yours, anchoring you gently as the world rose around.

“Do you drink?” he asks, his voice low as he approaches the couch where you sit. The bottle in his hands glints under the warm lights, dark glass wrapped in crinkled gold foil, the wine inside a deep, velvet red that swirls languidly as he moves. One glance, and you already know: it’s expensive.

His penthouse is sprawling, though you suppose all penthouses are. “On special occasions,” you admit, watching as he reaches for two crystal glasses.

“Would you call this a special occasion?” He sinks into the couch beside you, his back meeting the cushions.

“I’d say so.” Your answer draws a small smile from him as he leans closer. Carefully, he cradles a glass in each hand and offers one to you. You accept it, fingertips brushing the cool surface as you balance the bowl of the glass in your palm, the slender stem threading between your knuckles. You lift it gently, only needing the faintest tilt toward your nose to catch the aroma. Your intuition was right, this would be the finest drink you’ve ever touched.

You take a sip. The wine blooms sharp on your tongue, threading warmth down your throat.

“Tell me,” he says, lifting the glass to his lips. His bangs fall loose over his eyes, soft and unbothered, and you fight the quiet urge to reach over and sweep them aside. “How did you start your business?”

“Like most things in this world,” you reply, taking another small sip, the pungent taste stinging your palate. “A bit of luck and a bit of misfortune.”

Soobin shifts, turning more fully toward you. One arm drapes along the back of the couch, as though he’s subconsciously reaching closer. His glass rests loosely against his thigh, “What was your luck?”

“I received money. Enough to build the business.”

“And the misfortune?”

Your throat tightens slightly. You swallow. “It was because my grandmother… wouldn’t be able to take care of it anymore.” Your voice softens. “Or herself anymore.”

The quiet smile at the corner of his lips falters, folding into something more solemn. A flat line. His eyes don’t leave you, they track every flicker of your expression: the slight furrow of your brow, the quick blinks you can’t quite suppress, the faint, compulsive bite to the inside of your cheek. But he doesn’t press.

“Why flowers?”

You know the answer. It unfurls easily in your mind, sprawling and layered. But a flicker of doubt tugs at you. If I ramble, will he grow tired of me?

“I liked their meanings,” you say instead, choosing your words slowly. “How each plant holds its own importance, just by existing. It’s fulfilling. And it’s a beautiful thing… seeing the way even simple arrangements can affect people.” You glance down, your thumb brushing the base of your glass. The words settle in the air between you.

He doesn’t fill the silence or shift in his seat. His eyes stay fixed on you. The glass in his hand remains perfectly still. His gaze lingers like he’s reading something delicate between your lines, like you’re a puzzle he’s in no rush to solve. He watches without pressing, without judgment. You feel the heat creep into your cheeks despite yourself, and you lower your gaze, hoping it hides the way your pulse trips over itself.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a pause, his voice lower, gentler. “I feel like I’m bombarding you with all these questions. Would you like to ask me something instead?”

A dozen questions flicker through your mind, each vying for space. Yet one floats to the surface, steady and clear, eclipsing the rest. “Why did you ask me to make you that bouquet?” The words leave you smoother than you expected.

For a breath longer, he says nothing. And then — a soft, breathy laugh escapes him. His eyes crinkle at the corners, something warm spilling over his features, and you swear you feel your heart tighten in your chest.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh. It’s the first time you’ve seen the hollows of his cheeks deepen, the dimples ghost into view.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat gently, He leans forward slightly, setting his glass on the table with a clink. “I do have an answer. But it’s a long one… if you’ll bear with me.” You nod, something soft and weightless settling in your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, voice steady, unflinching. “Every time I come to see you… you’re even more beautiful. And you take my breath away.” That ache—the one you’d fought to swallow down minutes ago—surges back with a quiet ferocity. Your bottom lip parts, breath hitching in surprise.

Soobin’s voice dips, even softer now, like he’s confessing something he’s carried for far too long. “I asked you to make me that bouquet because I knew you’d pour yourself into it. You’d try your best to make it perfect for me. And when I saw it… I knew you’d done exactly that.” He pauses, gaze never wavering from you. “I never planned to take it with me. That bouquet—it was always meant for you.”

He shifts closer, just a few inches, slow and unintrusive. You don’t look at him; your eyes drop away, blurred with the tears threatening to spill over. You hold them back with every ounce of restraint, blinking fast against the shimmer at your waterline.

“I could’ve gone to any florist,” he continues, his voice barely above a murmur, “bought flowers and handed them to you. But I didn’t want that. I wanted you to make them… for yourself.”

Your chest pulls tight, your breath shallow and quick.

“I wanted you to create something as beautiful as you are. That’s why I asked for the bouquet.” His words land soft, final. “Because you’re beautiful.”

You try to fight it. Your head lifts slightly, your gaze tipping upward as if looking higher might will the tears back in. But the moment you blink, they slip free, tracing a slow, unbidden path down the curve of your cheek. There’s no hiding it. Not from him. Soobin’s eyes track the tear’s descent, his expression open and unreadable.

“I…” You falter, biting down gently on your tongue as your throat burns, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says immediately, “Tell me.”

Your breath shudders out, thin and shaky. “It’s just… earlier, I thought you wouldn’t come back.” The fracture in your voice is clear, woven into every syllable. Soobin hears it as easily as if you’d shouted it. His focus sharpens, tender and intent, even as another tear slips down your cheek.

Without a word, he lifts his hand. His touch is featherlight, the side of his index finger brushes just beneath your eye, catching the tear before it can fall farther. The contact startles you; your breath catches, your eyes widening at the gentle weight of his skin on yours. Though he’d caught your tear, his hand lingers on your cheek. His skin is cooler than yours, a contrast that sends a ripple down your spine. Then his finger glides down the curve of your face, tracing a path to your chin. His touch is careful, as if he’s afraid you might shatter under anything less. His fingers cradle your chin gently, coaxing, as he tilts your face toward him. Your breath catches as your gaze is guided back to his.

He’s looking at you.

Your nerves spark like a live wire under your skin, a delicate ache blooming in your chest. You swear you’ll come apart if you move too quickly, if you breathe too hard. Your heartbeat drums mercilessly in your ears loud enough, to fill the silence between you.

He leans closer. Slowly, gingerly, he edges forward like he’s stepping through every invisible barrier you’d built, slipping past every wall you thought you’d carefully kept intact. You watch as his eyes trace the line of your lips. Is he feeling the same tremor, the same breathless ache threatening to consume you whole?

Your eyes mirror his, drifting down until they rest on his lips. You feel his breath first, warm and shallow against your mouth. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipation blooming low in your belly — an ache, a flutter, a trembling promise. The thought alone sends shivers down your spine.

His lips meet yours. It's soft.

You don’t dare move. His fingers remain at your chinr. And for the first time, you let yourself surrender completely, allowing someone else full, irrevocable control. You let him lead. You let yourself fall. Then, subtly, Soobin shifts. His lips part just slightly against yours, enough to press a second kiss, lighter than air, softer than thought. The faintest sound of it rings in your ears, delicate and clear, as if it’s the only sound left in the world. There is no one else. Nothing else. Only you and him.

When he pulls away, it’s slow. He creates space between you, his gaze dropping—gentle, searching. “I apologize,” he says softly, his voice drawing your eyes open again. His pupils are dark, downcast, uncertainty clouding their depths as his fingers slip away from your skin. “If I made you uncomfortable… if I overstepped — I’m sorry.”

Without a word, with your tears now stilled, you reach for him. Your fingers wrap gently around his wrist, the same hand that had so carefully traced your skin. You hold him. With a pull, you guide his hand back to your face. When his fingertips meet your skin again, a wordless relief unfurls in your chest.

He’s watching you. His eyes are locked to yours, dark and unwavering, tracking every small shift in your expression as if deciphering the meaning behind your touch. Your hand stays clasped at his wrist as you draw your lips inward, wetting them with a soft sweep of your tongue, a silent permission offered without a single breath of speech.

You see it instantly, the way his brow knits downward, a soft furrow of longing. His lips part slightly, a breath escaping that he doesn’t bother to rein in. The expression across his face is raw, unguarded, needy in a way that makes your stomach swoop, a sweet ache pulling low in your core. His gaze flickers downward, fixated on the subtle shift of your mouth.

Before you even can take your next breath, his lips are on yours again. His mouth meets yours with more urgency, yet still achingly soft. His free hand ghosts up your jaw, fingers threading into the hinge of your neck, You’re taken aback, quite literally as his mouth parts against yours, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your breath falter. Your head tips backward instinctively, but before you can drift too far, his hand is there to catch. His fingers tangle into the soft strands at the nape of your neck, cradling you.

You clutch tighter to his wrist, as if that alone could tether you. The moment dissolves into something weightless, and the sensation of Soobin’s kiss begins to eclipse everything else — until the world narrows to nothing but his lips, his breath, his touch.

Your lungs tighten. Your head spins just as you feel the graze of his tongue against your lower lip. With a soft gasp, you break away.

Cool air rushes between your lips as you pull back, your breath coming quick and shallow. Your fingers, once gripping tight at his wrist loosen, falling limp against his skin. His hand slides gently from the back of your head, fingertips gliding down the column of your neck before settling against the delicate curve of your throat. His thumb traces there idly, barely a whisper of contact.

His voice, when it comes, is hushed. “Are you alright?”

All your life, you had been pursued. Suitors with bright eyes and polished words circled like moths, eager to capture your hand, to fasten their futures to yours. They came with promises that echoed hollow against your ribs. They smiled too easily, spoke too sweetly and though you tried, how you tried to meet them halfway, something inside you always stayed untouched.

You had forced smiles you didn’t mean. Laughed at jokes that never reached your eyes. You wrapped yourself in false emotions like gossamer, hoping the weight of them would feel like belonging. But after every encounter, you only felt emptier. You never understood why.

Until now.

With Soobin’s kiss still lingering on your lips, with his hand resting against the tender line of your throat as though you were something precious, and easily breakable. The truth settles in you, your heart had never been wandering.

It had been waiting. Waiting for him.

It wasn’t that no one wanted you. It was that your soul had already made its choice long before your body could catch up. And after all the quiet, lonely years of not knowing what you were longing for, he had finally found you.

You are home.

"I…" Your voice is thin, threadbare with wonder. You search for words, but none seem big enough to hold what you’re feeling. "I’ve never… been kissed like that before."

He smile slowly, a laugh tumbles from him and the thumb resting against your neck drifts upward, grazing the curve of your cheek with such careful reverence it makes your breath catch. You don’t have time to react. He leans in before you can even think, brushing a kiss against your lips, so brief it’s almost weightless. Too fleeting, too quick, and when he pulls away, you instinctively lean forward, chasing the fading warmth.

"Is that better?" he murmurs, mischief softening the edges of his gaze.

You swallow thickly, your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his touch. "I didn’t…" Your voice falters, a smile tugging unbidden at the corner of your lips. "…say that I didn’t like it."

It was as if your words had unspooled something inside him, like you'd spoken a secret incantation only he could hear. The moment your words left your lips, he was on you — his mouth capturing yours with a hunger. His hands slid down at your waist, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, warm palms pressing against your skin as if he needed to feel every inch of you. His lips broke from yours only to travel lower, grazing the delicate line of your jaw before finding the curve of your neck. The first brush of his mouth there drew a sound from you, a soft moan. You felt him smile against your skin, a low, pleased hum from his throat as if your every sigh was a gift.

Without thinking, your arms wrapped tighter around him. You shifted, lifting your legs to curl around his waist, pulling him flush against you. The soft, unrestrained groan that escaped him at the motion sent a spark racing straight through you.

You had never felt so wanted as hands slid down, tracing the shape of your thigh before they dipped to the bend of your knee. You had never felt so treasured as he slowly, began to gather the fabric of your skirt, dragging it higher along your leg with unhurried care, revealing skin he touched as though memorizing you with each pass.

"You taste divine," he breathed against your neck, the words threaded with awe and desire. His lips trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, grazing you with teeth soft enough to make you shiver, as if he wanted to consume you completely yet worship every part of you. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging gently as you guided him back to your lips. He met you eagerly, melting into the kiss as though he’d waited lifetimes for it.

“If you want me to stop… tell me,” he whispered against your mouth, voice rough and tender all at once.

You nodded unafraid, and in that quiet, unspoken agreement, you watched something flicker in his eyes. As if he was vowing to worship you fully but never without your permission. His hands moved, deft and gentle, helping you ease out of the thin barrier of fabric that separated you, his gaze never leaving yours as if even in this unraveling, your comfort was his compass.

His smile curves against the delicate line of your neck, breath fanning across your skin as his words slip through, velvet-soft and low, “You’re already so wet for me.” His tone is laced with adoration. “I didn’t know you’d be such a good girl for me.”

The world dissolves.

It shrinks and softens until all that’s left is him — Soobin and the press of his body against yours, Soobin and the way his voice drips honey and reverence into your ear, Soobin and the hands that worship every part of you like he’s learning a language spoken only through touch.

Every piece of clothing that falls away is marked by his mouth, kisses dragged slow across your lips, your jaw, the hollow of your throat, the slope of your collarbones. His lips move like he’s tracing constellations on your skin, as though, somehow, you hold the entire night sky within you.

His hands, large and steady, move over you with a duality that makes you ache. Greedy and gentle. Certain but tender. He touches you as though he’s starved for you, but terrified you might slip away if he’s too careless. His fingers map your curves, glide down your sides, ghost along the backs of your thighs, curling possessively.

The room is thick with something heavier than air. It’s breath; yours and his, tangled in rhythm. It’s the soft rustle of fabric sliding over skin, the quiet catch of a moan swallowed between kisses, the faint sighs that spill when his hands find somewhere new to caress. Everything slows because he slows it. He takes his time, like he refuses to let any detail slip by unnoticed.

It doesn’t feel like he’s simply undressing you.

It feels like he’s unveiling something sacred. Like every inch of you laid bare is a gift he’s longed for, and now that he has it, he won’t squander a second. His gaze drinks you in between every kiss, full of a softness that cradles the sharp edge of desire. His pupils blown wide, his lips pink and kiss-bitten, his breath shaky though he tries to steady it.

You’re cherished.

“Soobin,” you gasp, breath hitching as he pulls you effortlessly into his lap. His lips find the swell of your breast, as his hands caress you with tender precision — teasing. The soft drag of his tongue against your nipples pulls a shiver from deep within you.

“I’ll take you to bed, sweetheart,” — “Yes, please,”

His mouth meets yours again, slow and consuming, while his arms curl around you. Without breaking the kiss, he rises, lifting you as though you weigh nothing, as though carrying you is the most natural thing in the world. You don’t open your eyes. You don’t need to. Your hands stay laced behind his neck, your fingers threading through the soft hair at his nape. You surrender wholly, letting yourself be cradled in his care. His footsteps echo and then you feel it, the plush give of the mattress beneath you as he lowers you gently into the center of the bed. The sheets are cool against your back, but his gaze is molten, grounding you in a warmth no fabric could match.

“Soobin…” Your voice trembles, “I haven’t done this before.”

For a moment, his expression stills. Something softens even further in his eyes. His lips tilt into the faintest, sweetest smile before he leans down, planting a slow kiss on your lips.

“I’ll be gentle with you then,” he promises, voice so gentle it nearly breaks you apart. His forehead rests against yours as his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, his touch light as silk. “You don’t have to fear anything with me. We’ll go slow. You just tell me everything you want… everything you don’t.”

You gave him a smile, you reached up and kissed him. A simple peck. His eyes is open mid-kiss, like he couldn’t bear to miss a second of it. As though the feeling of your lips wasn’t enough, he wanted to see it too. “I trust you,” you whispered against his lips, “I do.”

You had never been blinded because of a smile before.

His lips press against your sternum, inching his way with slow pecks towards the plump skin of your breasts. And the second he finds your nipple, a sharp gasp leaves your throat as you feel his warm tongue caress the sensitive flesh. His hand moves to your navel, his palm lying flush to your abdomen as he holds you down to the mattress; continuing to glide his tongue over you. As Soobin lifts his lips from you momentarily, the chill of his saliva lingers on your breast, makes you softly squirm in his grasp.

He move to the other side of your body, slowly slowly repeating the process as he suckle at your hardened bud ever so gently. But this time, he use his teeth to bite the softest mark onto your nipple; the careful sting pulls your back into an arch. You whimper at the roughness, though it only lasts for a second, and as you process their actions, Soobin begins to trail down from your breasts, moving to the other one. His hands work, reaching down to caress your core which pulse between your thighs.

You try to control yourself as he went lower, to control your body, control the moans begging for release but the moment he place a kiss to your clit, the little control you have begins to slip. He starts gently, a kiss, a soft lick up your entrance, and gets back to give the most careful suckle at your clit. His gentle licks turn into passionate laps as he palce his tongue flat to your clit and allow the pressure of his muscle alone to spark up your spine.

You gasp at the feeling, your hands grip desperately onto the sheets by your sides.

With his hand still placed on your lower belly, Soobin outstretches his fingers towards his mouth latched onto your cunt. His thumb finds its place just above the hood of your clit, as he begin to add to the simulation causing your teeth to sink into your bottom lip. He swirl the wet skin, sucking, intervals of tender kisses in between as he feel you between his lips; as the squelching of his tongue against your soaked entracne takes over the silence of the night.

"You're being such a good girl for me," Soobin kisses the words onto you, "So fucking good." He use his freehand to pull your leg up and over his shoulder, your body willingly at his control. He lift his mouth from you only to place his lips inside of your thight, his fingers still simulating you even with the pause.

You can feel it brewing. The band threathening to snap at any moment. Your pleasure pleading for release as he return to lap at your cunt.

"S-Soobin," you gasp, "Wait, I-" your please turn into tight cries of desperation as they retrieve a smile from Soobin, who listens intently to you moaning his name.

"I know baby," he kisses your clit, his thumb giving you an experimental amount of pressure, "I know baby, you can cum on my tongue. I don't mind."

If it weren't for your orgasm now unleashing inside of you, you possibly would have laughed, but the only thing that comes out of you, among the essence leaking into Soobin's mouth, is the lewd noises breaching the shores of your pleasure. Your hips instinctively push into his mouth as it explodes.

Your legs twitch, faint tremors echoing long after the euphoria crests and slowly ebbs away. Your breath is uneven, your chest rising and falling in shallow pulls as your mind tries to fix itself again. The world feels distant, softened at the edges, but you feel him. You feel Soobin everywhere. You hardly register the trail of his lips scaling their way back up your body, delicate kisses pressed along your stomach, the hollow between your ribs, the curve of your collarbone; until his face hovers just above yours. His breath fans against your lips, warm and even, as though he’s been composed the entire time, despite the flush that paints the high of his cheekbones. And when you meet his eyes —

Adoration. That’s all there is. As though you hung the stars in his sky.

Your fingers, still faintly trembling, reach down to the waistband of his pants, a silent plea building in your chest to return the worship he’s lavished on you. But before you can so much as graze the fabric, his hand wraps gently around your wrist, and moves it away.

“Tonight is about you,” Soobin murmurs, voice low, coaxing you back into ease. A smile, soft and disarming, tugs at the corners of his lips as he dips forward to nuzzle the tip of his nose against yours. “Just think of it as my way to say sorry… for making the prettiest girl wait so long.” His fingers, those long, graceful ones you’ve become so attuned to, sweep gently through your hair, combing it back from your damp forehead as though you were something priceless. His thumb brushes the line of your temple before trailing down the curve of your jaw, feather-light.

You stare back at him, your gaze tender and unwavering, the reflection of your own adoration open across your features. Whatever he sees in your eyes makes something in his expression soften even further.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice dropping as he nestles closer to your side. Instinctively, you open your arms for him, and he slides into the space as though it were carved just for him, his head resting gently against your chest.

“Nothing,” you whisper truthfully, your fingers threading into his soft hair as you tilt your head to study him. Wonder flickers within you like the soft flicker of candlelight, igniting gently as you take in the way the dim glow plays in his irises — deep brown kissed with honey, shadows and softness blending as if the universe itself tried to paint the richest portrait inside his gaze. “You’re beautiful,”

The smile that spreads across his face is breathtaking. His lips curve in that boyish, gentle way that squeezes your heart painfully tight, and then he laughs. Your own smile spills out in response, and soon both your laughs mingle, weaving together in the space between you like spun gold, before your lips find each other’s once more.

You woke with the sunlight brushing gently across your skin, the warmth pooling on the sheets.

His breath is steady against the back of your neck, his chest rising and falling. His arm is still draped over your waist, fingers laced together just under your ribs as if even in sleep, he’s afraid to let go. Every time you shift, even slightly, his hold tightens; subconscious, instinctive. As though his body has decided on its own that you belong nowhere but here. You feel the ghost of his lips at the back of your head again, a soft, unthinking kiss pressed into your hair. And then that murmur that drifted from him throughout the night, something wordless and sweet, as though he was dreaming of you and couldn’t help but let it slip into the waking world.

You are exactly where you’re meant to be.

You blink slowly, everything is softened by the white sheets. Warmth surrounds you, not just from the sun filtering through the windows, but from the comforting weight draped over your back. You shift slowly, turning in his embrace until you’re met with the sight that makes your heart swell.

Choi Soobin.

Your fingertips ghost along the curve of his cheek, feather-light, afraid you might wake him if you touched him too boldly. His skin is soft beneath your hand, still asleep. His lashes rest delicately against his cheekbones, his lips parted slightly, breath deep and even.

“Sleepy Soobin,” you whisper, your thumb brushes along the slope of his cheekbone and, instinctively, he leans into your palm, nuzzling against your touch. The simple action sends a tender ache spiraling through your chest. Your mind drifts back, to the way his hands gripped you with both hunger and patience. To the way his lips worshiped every inch of you. To the way he had cradled you afterward, not letting a single shiver escape him unnoticed, whispering soft words against your skin.

Your eyes drink him in, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the tousled strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. You lean forward, pressing the lightest of kisses on the corner of his mouth. You linger there, breathing him in, letting your lips stay against him like a silent thank-you whispered straight from your heart.

“I don’t think,” you murmur softly against his skin, your lips curving in a smile, “I’ve ever been this happy before.” And as if he heard you even in sleep, his arm around your waist tightens, pulling you closer.

Your phone buzzes. You move quickly, fingers curling around the device as you move yourself out of Soobin’s arms. You sit on the edge of the bed, the cool air brushing against your skin. His shirt hangs loosely off your frame, the fabric soft and saturated with the faint scent of him. You tuck a hand into the hem absentmindedly as you answer. “Hello?” Your voice is hushed.

“Oh, hi. I just wanted to check in about your grandmother. She took her meds.” Hana’s voice comes softly from the other end, the caregiver you’d called last minute yesterday when you weren’t sure you’d make it home in time.

Relief unfurls gently in your chest. “Thank you, Hana,” you murmur, a small smile touching your lips. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

There’s a few more exchanged words, small reassurances and thank-yous, before you end the call. The screen dims in your hand, but you don’t move just yet. You glance over your shoulder. He hasn’t stirred, not really, but his brows are slightly furrowed now, as if he noticed the loss of you in his sleep. The sheets dip where you’d been moments ago, and one hand rests, palm open, where your body had once been.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You want to crawl back to him already. But you know you can't.

Setting the phone down, your gaze drifted toward the bedside table. You remembered Soobin opening the drawer last night, tucking away both of your things. You needed your ponytail. You pulled the drawer open.

Your fingers falter for the the first thing you see. You hadn’t meant to intrude. Two large bottles, their labels slightly worn, tucked neatly in the corner of the drawer as if he’d kept them close, yet out of sight.

Sleeping pills.

Your lips press into a thin line as thoughts flicker behind your eyes — how gentle he’d been with you, how steady and warm his gaze had felt, how easily sleep had taken him last night in your arms. And yet… these. Did he take them every day? Your hand brushes over the edge, and finally, you spot your ponytail nestled beside his wristwatch.

You swallow gently, pushing the drawer close.

You hummed softly as you slid the fried eggs onto a white plate, the gentle sizzle fading as you set them down. This place is a wide, unfamiliar kitchen, but somehow your hands had found their routine effortlessly. Turning, you arranged the plate beside the crisp bacon and the golden slices of toasted, buttered bread.

Out of the corner of your eye, the bedroom door creaked open. "Good morning," you called, your voice laced with a smile that turned fully when you saw Soobin, no confusion in his sleepy gaze, no hesitation in his steps. He made a beeline straight to you.

Before you could even set down the last plate, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest with a soft exhale of relief. His lips found your hairline in a series of slow, affectionate kisses, "You didn’t have to make breakfast, baby. I could’ve called someone."

"I didn’t mind it," you replied, breathless with laughter as you tried halfheartedly to nudge him away. But he only shook his head, clutching you tighter, "Come on," you coaxed gently, tilting your head to meet his soft gaze. "Let’s eat."

At just those simple words, he loosened his hold, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with yours.

“What is it?” Soobin asks softly, voice in curiosity as he chews his food. His eyes catching the question behind your gaze. “I did tell you… you can ask me anything, remember?”

You nod, your fork slowly tracing circles on the edge of your plate. “Yes…” You swallow, “I don’t mean to pry, I really don’t. I just… I just wanted to ask if you take those pills every day?”

He nods slowly. “I do,” he admits. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping.” Your lips part to speak, but before you can, he sets his fork down and leans in, elbows resting on the table as his hand slides gently over yours. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. “But last night…” A faint smile curls the corner of his lips,“Last night, I didn’t even think about them. I didn’t need them.” His voice drops, “You were here.”

Sitting at that table, sharing breakfast, you felt like you were learning him in layers, like pages of a book gently unfolding for you. You already had your suspicions the moment you first met Soobin. The cut of his clothes, the sleek car he drove; they all whispered of a life far from ordinary. But hearing it from his lips, hearing him confess that he was set to inherit and run an entire empire, sent a quiet shiver up your spine. A chaebol. How had someone like you managed to cross paths, let alone hearts, with someone like him?

He spoke openly, though gently, about the burden he had carried since he was just a teenager. How sleep had long been a stranger to him. How those pills had been his quiet crutch in the endless swirl of expectations, decisions, and responsibilities that clouded his nights. You tried your best to absorb every word. Soobin told you how he had found you captivating from the very first moment he saw you — how, despite that, he never had the courage to approach you.

“All my life,” he murmured, gaze dropping to the untouched food on his plate, “I watched my sister become trapped in a marriage. Watching her lose herself made me believe I shouldn’t chase anyone… or anything. But then, I saw you.”

It was unclear why he trusted you so deeply, why he felt safe enough to share such memories about his sister’s pain and the misplaced guilt he carried on his shoulders. But he did. He let you in. The shadows in his expression melted the moment you leaned in, your lips pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to his and your arms curling gently around him. Maybe that was why. Maybe you were his perfect match. You were the one brave enough to ask him out first; unknowing then, but somehow sensing what held him back.

You learned more little things about him that morning too. How he often misplaced his watch because he’d take it off absentmindedly and forget where he’d set it. How he liked his coffee with an extra spoon of sugar and a generous pour of creamer, because despite everything, Soobin had a sweet tooth.

And somehow, every one of these small pieces only made you fall for him more.

“I can’t wait to get back and see you,” his voice comes gently through the phone, smooth and warm like a whisper against your ear. “Just three more days, and I’ll be back. Okay?”.

“Okay,” you breathe, your voice softer than you intend. “Just make sure you’re eating well, alright?” You swallow gently, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll see you soon.”

His laugh drifts back to you, honey-sweet and effortless. You miss him already. “Okay, baby.”

And just like that, the line clicks silent.

You move quietly around your shop, fingers trailing along the shelves, straightening small displays here and there. You smile to yourself, a small, private thing, as memories of the past few days float to the surface. His touch. His laugh. Everything lately had felt… right. Almost effortlessly so.

The soft chime of the doorbell rings out, pulling you back to the present.

“Welcome,” you call, your gaze lifts and locks instantly with a pair of sharp, assessing eyes. A woman stands there, immaculately dressed, her age maybe in her fifties, though the confidence she wears makes her seem ageless somehow.

Her eyes sweep over you unblinking, as though weighing you against some invisible scale. “Are you the woman seeing my son?” A chill skips down your spine.

“Pack your things up,” she says crisply, her gaze drifting coolly over the small, carefully curated space of your shop. Her lips twitch, close enough to make your stomach twist. “Come have lunch with me.”

You blink, thrown off balance, your heartbeat picking up beneath your ribs. This… wasn’t what you’d expected today. “Uh—yes, ma’am,” you say, trying to gather yourself.

Her head tilts, something sharp glinting behind her expression. “Why did you stutter?” The question is too sharp for someone who doesn't know you. Before you can even try to answer, she lifts her hand in a small, dismissive gesture. “Go on. Change your clothes. Make it fast. I don’t like waiting.”

Your fingers twitch on your lap as you lower your gaze, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks. The seat beneath you feels too plush, too stiff all at once, as if you don’t quite belong in it. You’re somewhere deep inside this towering glass building — a restaurant so vast and pristine it feels like even your breath is too loud for the space. You try to inhale quietly, chest tight, as Soobin’s mother sits across from you, commanding the room with a presence that doesn’t falter.

You watched, silent, as she spoke crisply to the waiter. Her tone left no room for correction, no cracks for uncertainty to slip through. She didn’t ask what you’d like. She didn’t ask if salad was to your taste. She simply ordered it for you without sparing you a glance — as though she already knew what you should eat, or perhaps decided it didn’t matter.

The clink of glassware is sharp, and you jump slightly when she clears her throat. Slowly, reluctantly, you lift your eyes to meet hers. Her gaze is steady, dark and searching, the sort that makes you feel like you’re being turned inside out with just a look.

“What do you want—”

"Mother," a new voice drifts into the space; light, melodic. You turn instinctively, and there she stands: a woman so strikingly beautiful it’s impossible to mistake the relation. The soft curve of her jaw, the familiar gentle slope of her nose, she carries pieces of Soobin effortlessly in her features.

She moves toward the table with a grace that makes the heavy atmosphere ease, as though her very presence carries warmth where there was only frost before. Soobin’s mother’s stern face softens, her posture loosening subtly for the first time since you sat down and it’s clear this new woman holds sway over her in ways no one else has managed thus far.

The young woman settles beside her mother, her gaze drifting to you with a kindness that wraps around you like a soft blanket. No scrutiny, no sharp edges, it's curiosity. “I’m Soobin’s sister,” she says her name gently, her lips pulling into a smile that reaches her eyes. “You look even more beautiful than what he says.”

The sincerity in her voice disarms you. It feels like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finding a familiar light in a room full of shadows. Warm. Genuine.

“Th-thank you,” you murmur, voice small as your gaze drops shyly to your lap. The elegance she carries so effortlessly makes you acutely aware of every inch of yourself; of your softness, your simplicity. You steal a glance upward as she turns away, leaning toward her mother, her voice soft and fluid as she starts to recount her day.

Their hair, not a strand out of place, styled with a polish that speaks of salons you’ve never stepped foot in. The fine lines of their blouses, their tailored cuts, fabrics that drape as if stitched to their skin. Even their nails is perfectly shaped, coated in shades that gleam soft and subtle, unchipped. Their handbags resting beside them glint of understated luxury, the kind of leather that never creases, the kind of detail you notice only when you’ve never had it.

Your gaze falls to your skirt — the one you had sewn with patient hands from fabric you bargained for at the market’s edge. You’d chosen the material carefully, pieced it together with love, made it yours. But here… it feels smaller somehow. Less. You smooth your palms over your knees.

How long will you have to sit in moments like this? How long will you have to feel the weight of difference settle like a stone in your chest? The gap between their world and yours feels so wide it burns.

You don’t belong here.

You hadn’t even managed to lift your fork, “How old are you?” Soobin’s mother asked.

���Twenty-three,” you murmured, your tongue thick in your mouth. The number sounded too small as soon as it left you.

Her lips tugged downward. “Five years younger than him. Too young.” A pause, heavy. “Education status? What of your family?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m living with my grandmother.”

Her brow arched, unimpressed. “Since when?” — “Since I was a child.”

The air felt thinner now. You could feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, in the trembling tips of your fingers that curled tighter under the table. “Then how would you run a family if you don’t even have one?”

The sting behind your eyes burned fast. You blinked hard, but it did nothing to wash it away. You felt small, smaller than you ever thought you could shrink.

“Mother,” Soobin’s sister snapped, her voice tight with disbelief. You lifted your gaze to her, grateful and ashamed all at once. Her expression was shocked that her mother had gone that far.

But then the next blow landed. “Do you even know there’s a girl who’s supposed to marry him?” Her tone dropped, dripping with disdain as if she wanted to watch you crumble beneath it.

“Mom, stop it. Now.” Soobin’s sister, again. Firmer this time.

Your lips parted to answer — to say something, anything — but all that came out was fragile and thin. “We… we haven’t talked about it.” It was all you could manage. Your voice cracked just enough to make the shame crawl higher up your throat. Your chair scraped against the floor softly as you rose, every inch of your body stiff and burning. You forced a tight smile that felt more like a grimace. “Excuse me… I’ll just take the bathroom.”

Your legs carried you away before the first tear slipped free.

You gripped the sink’s edge so hard your knuckles ached, head bowed as silent sobs racked through your chest. You couldn’t catch your breath. Couldn’t hold it together long enough to even pretend you belonged here. Your reflection in the mirror blurred behind the sheen of tears; eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, lips trembling. Small. Out of place. A girl trying to fit in.

Of course she was right. You’d always known it, hadn’t you? You were someone born from absence. A child left behind by two people who couldn’t even stay for you, much less for each other. You’d spent so long tucking that truth away, convincing yourself. His mother didn’t have to scream to shatter you.

You wiped at your face uselessly, but the tears kept slipping, warm and bitter down your jaw. You didn’t want to ruin what Soobin had left with his mother, thin and cracked as it might be. You’d seen the strain in his eyes before when he spoke of her. You’d heard the weight when he talked about duty, legacy, responsibility; but you wouldn’t be the reason he chose sides. Maybe everything really had just been a dream. And maybe now…maybe it was time to wake up.

The door creaks open, and you flinch too late to hide the tears streaking your cheeks.

Soobin’s sister.

Her expression crumbles the second she sees you. “Oh, honey.” Her voice is soft, almost breaking, and before you can turn away or gather yourself, she’s already crossing the room. You shake your head, a weak protest caught in your throat, but it falls apart the second her arms wrap around you. You don’t mean to collapse, but you do. Your body folds into hers, trembling, your fingers clutching at the fabric of her coat.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes against your temple, her voice rawer now, as if she can feel even a fraction of what’s tearing through you.

Your chest hurts. You can’t speak. You don’t trust your own voice not to shatter the second you try. So you just stand there, breathing uneven, tears soaking the front of her blouse.

“Don’t cry,” she whispers finally, pulling back, her palms warm against your damp cheeks. Her eyes search yours. Slowly, she slides a handkerchief from her pocket and presses it into your hand, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she lets go. “My mother… she’s always been like this. I won’t tell you not to feel hurt, you should feel hurt. She doesn’t know how to soften her words, even when she should.”

“I came here because I heard she’d come after you the moment Soobin flew out for his trip,” she continues, “And about that woman… or whatever arrangement that was, Soobin never met her. Not even once. That was all our mother’s doing. If you want the truth, it’s best you hear it straight from him, hm?” Your fingers curl tighter around the handkerchief.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice frayed at the edges, the apology slipping out even though you aren’t sure what you’re apologizing for— being here, being too small for this world, for falling for someone you were never supposed to have?

“Don’t be,” she says softly, her lips tugging into a smile. "You’ve done nothing wrong."

She reaches to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “You can go home. I’ll handle her,” she promises. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t come near you again, not until Soobin gets back and sorts all of this out himself.”

Your throat tightens again, “Why?” The word falls out of you in a whisper. “Why are you doing all of this?”

“Soobin deserves to be happy,” she says, there's a glisten in her eyes. “And you… you make him happy.”

You sit still, hands folded tightly in your lap, nails pressing crescents into your skin as the hum of the engine vibrates beneath you. Through the window’s glass, blurred by your uneven breaths, you see them, Soobin’s sister and her husband.

Choi Beomgyu.

Even from here, even without sound, it’s clear. The way his eyes search hers, soft and intent. The way his hand brushes her cheek, tender and unhurried. And then, his palm drifts lower, resting on the curve of her stomach.

Your breath catches, an involuntary gasp escaping from your lips. You hadn’t noticed it before, maybe because you’d been too wrapped in your own thoughts, but there it is now; the small, rounded swell of her belly beneath her dress.

She’s pregnant.

Your eyes dart away. It sinks in heavier than you expect—the contrast of it. The weight of what you felt in that restaurant still gnawing at your ribs. You swallow hard, blinking fast. You shouldn’t be jealous. Not of them, not of their certainty, not of the way they fit together. You curl your fingers tighter.

Beomgyu slides into the driver’s seat, his eyes flicker to you in the rearview mirror, not invasive. “You okay?” His voice is gentle, low.

You swallow past the knot tightening in your throat. “Yes.”

He doesn’t press. He just nods once, slow, and leans back in his seat. His hands rest on the wheel but he doesn’t start the car. Instead, his eyes shift toward the building. You follow his line of sight and see her— his wife, walking toward the entrance.

Beomgyu stays still, waiting. His jaw flexes slightly, not out of impatience, but out of habit, you can tell. He doesn’t move, not until she disappears inside the building safely, not until the glass doors close behind her and she’s no longer in sight.

Only then does he release a small breath and turn the key in the ignition. The car starts.

You've never seen a love so whole.

You’d finally made peace with it all, to speak to Soobin when he returned. His sister’s promise had held true; his mother hadn’t darkened your doorstep again. For once, the silence felt like safety.

Only one more day. Just one, and he’d be back.

The sharp chime of the door snapped through the quiet. You turned instinctively, forcing a smile onto your lips out of habit.

Standing there was a woman. “Good morning,” you greeted softly, stepping behind the counter, trying to keep your hands steady.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Your stomach flipped, hands instantly cold. What is it this time?

“Yes,” you answered carefully, guarded. “How can I help you?”

She took a step closer, “I’m Aera,” she said smoothly, not a trace of hesitation. “Soon to be Soobin’s fiancée.”

Your breath stuttered. The smile fell clean from your lips. “I’m sorry… what—”

“His mother told me about you.” The words barely registered before the woman dropped to her knees in front of you. The motion was so sudden, so desperate, your breath caught in your throat and your eyes went wide.

“Please…” her voice cracked as she folded her hands together, her head bowed low in a way that looked almost unnatural for someone like her; pristine, polished, composed. But here she was. Crumbling. “Please tell him to accept the proposal.”

Your chest constricted painfully. “No, no, stand up, you don’t have to,”

But she shook her head sharply, her shoulders trembling. Tears clung to her lashes, heavy and raw. “I’ll let you have everything you want. You can still be with him .I don’t care. I’ll just marry him in name. I’ll stay in a different room. A different house, even. I won’t touch him. Our family… we need his. Please, I’m begging you.” Her voice broke entirely on that last word.

Even she knew. Even she understood what his mother refused to admit; his heart was already in your hands.

You walk to the building, each step echoing in your chest. The elevator hums softly as you press the button, your reflection in the mirrored doors a stranger to you. When it finally dings open, you step out into the hallway.

Your hand hovers over the doorbell of his home. You take a breath and press the button. And then you wait.

You run over the speeches you carved into your heart all day, I’m sorry, but we need to break up. I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore. But the moment the door opens, it all disintegrates.

He stands there, and for a split second, it’s as if everything stills. His eyes meet yours, rimmed with exhaustion so deep it settles into the lines of his face. “I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.” His voice is soft. Almost fragile.

And before you can think, before you can remember the careful goodbye you rehearsed a thousand times, he reaches for you.His fingers curl around your arms, and he pulls you into him. Into the chest that has always felt like home.

The door clicks shut behind you.

“Soobin, I—” Your voice barely breaks through the air before it’s swallowed by the heat of him; his lips finding the curve of your neck, hot and hurried, like a man starved. His body crowds yours effortlessly, the breadth of him making you feel small. His hands, large, trembling with restraint digs firmly on your waist.

“I fucking missed your voice,” he breathes against your skin, “I fucking missed you… I couldn’t even sleep.”

Your throat tightens, a lump clawing higher and higher as your heart caves in on itself. Coward. That’s what it feels like. Your heart, shrinking, curling away from what you came here to say. Because how could you speak of endings when he’s here, clinging to you like this? When he holds you like you were his last hope?

“I need you, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers slide to your blouse, undoing the buttons one by one, slower than his breath, slower than the pounding of your pulse against your ribs. His knuckles brush against your skin, “Did you miss me?”

You open your mouth. The truth swells painfully, desperate to tear out. I did. I missed you more than you’ll ever know. But all you manage is a breathless, broken, “I—”

His hot mouth sucks your nipple. “…Yes.”

It’s all a blur — his hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name. You don’t remember how the clothes came off, how the sheets tangled beneath your bodies. You only remember the weight of him, the heat of his skin, and the soft drag of his lips along your body that made your breath catch.

The sharp stretch, the slow push of him sinking into you. Tears spill before you even realize they’re falling. It isn’t the pain that makes you cry. It’s the ache in your chest, the way your heart splits in two at the sight of him — Soobin, tired and unraveling, still so gentle. You were too scared to say no. Not because you didn’t want him, but because you did. Too much. You craved to erase the exhaustion from his eyes, even if it was only for one night.

Maybe you were fooling yourself into thinking you were giving something to him, when really, you were trying to steal one last piece of him for yourself.

His brow furrows as he stills inside you, the concern written all over his face. His thumbs swipe at your damp cheeks, his lips brushing against your skin in soft, frantic kisses. “Did that hurt? What’s wrong?”

You force a breath through the tightness in your throat, eyes locking on his, “No,” you manage to choke out, your voice cracking. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek, thumb brushing the soft curve of his under-eye, tracing the shadows you wish you could take away. You swallow the sob clawing at your chest, and say it. You have to say it. Even if it’s the last time.

“I— I just love you.” His lips part slightly at your confession. His breath stutters, and something raw flickers behind his gaze; wonder, disbelief. His whole body goes still as if those words rooted him to the earth. “I love you, Soobin.”

"I love you. I fucking love you."

Warm hands find your waist, circling you with a gentle pull, long fingers tracing slow, reverent patterns across your bare skin. A soft squeeze follows, then warm, featherlight kisses trail from your neck to your ear, each one taking time to settle on your skin. Your name slips from his lips, barely more than a breath, before he tucks himself closer, body melting into yours.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, “You’ve been asleep so long, I’m starting to miss you.”

You exhale a soft huff, but there’s no real protest in it. Just the lazy stretch of your arm as you roll toward him, pressing your face into the curve of his neck where he smells like him. Your voice comes out muffled. “Let’s stay like this for five more minutes.”

A smile ghosts against your temple. His hand slides to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. “Okay,”

You finally peeled yourself from the bed, soft sheets still warm with sleep and the weight of him. He trailed after you, tall and shadowing your every move around the kitchen as the morning light spilled in. You couldn’t help it, your fingers found his constantly. On his wrist as he buttered toast, laced with his as you poured coffee, curled around his as you sat across from him at the table. And for the first time, you saw it clearly: the way Soobin’s cheeks flushed pink under the weight of your affection, his gaze flickering down, shy and boyish, every time you touched him like you couldn’t stop.

Now, he stands by the mirror, freshly showered, crisp shirt hugging broad shoulders, hair damp and curling just a little at the edges. You’re sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him. He wanted you to stay here, in his penthouse. Wanted you here waiting when he came home.

You rise when you see him fumble with his tie, long fingers struggling with the knot. “Let me,” you say softly. Your fingertips brush against his as you take over, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath his skin. He watches you, head tilted down, eyes steady and soft, drinking in every precise movement as you fold and tug the silk into place.

His hand comes up to cradle your cheek, “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. He leans in, scattering kisses across your face — your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your lips — each one light and full of that unshakable, boyish smile of his.

You walk him to the elevator, bare feet padding softly on the cool floor. He steps inside, glances back at you, and lifts his hand in a wave; a grin stretching wide, something childlike and unguarded lighting up his whole face.

All while everything was breaking your heart.

You moved quietly through his home. The morning hush wrapped around you like something delicate and suffocating all at once. You folded his clothes with shaking hands, smoothing out every crease, tucking each piece into its rightful place as if order could somehow soften what you were about to break.

His watch. You found it lying carelessly on the counter where he always forgot it. You fixed it gently onto the shelf beside his cufflinks and rings, aligning everything just so, because you knew he liked it neat, even if he never said it out loud. It was small, but you wanted to leave it perfect for him.

The kitchen was next. Your movements felt numb now, mechanical. You prepared everything the way he loved it: coffee beans ground just right, the sugar jar filled, the creamer where it belonged. You wrote it all down on a small scrap of paper; the exact way you made it for him, step by step and pressed the note beside the kettle. Your handwriting blurred through your tears, but you forced yourself to keep writing.

By the time you found a clean sheet of paper and sat at the dining table, your whole body trembled with the weight of it. The pen felt too heavy in your hand. Your tears hit the page before your words did.

You slowly, wrote your goodbye.

"Nana, this is your new room, okay?" Your voice is soft, careful not to crack as you push the door open, guiding her slowly inside. "It’s a little different, but we’ll figure it out. I’ll make sure we’re alright."

You smile, or something close to it, when she nods faintly, her eyes drifting over the unfamiliar space. The pale walls, the narrow window, the worn bed frame. None of it felt like home yet, but it had to be. You’d make it be.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of the dresser as she turned to you. "Why did we move so suddenly?"

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. "Oh," you answered lightly, "because we had to."

Your chest tightened when her gaze lingered on you a beat longer, as if peeling back layers you didn’t want exposed. And then, almost absently, she asked, "How about your man?"

You froze. The air seemed thinner, sharper. You weren’t even sure she remembered him clearly — just a distant echo of the day Soobin had shown up with that gentle smile, introducing himself with careful politeness.

"I… I broke up with him," you whispered. She didn’t react at first. Just nodded quietly, turning to sit on the edge of her bed. Her small frame curved gently as she smoothed the blanket beneath her hands, her movements slow and methodical.

You took a step back toward the doorway, trying to breathe steady. Trying not to crumble in front of her. But then, just as she rose again to cross the room, her voice drifted back to you. "Love will not fail," she murmured. "If it fails… it’s not love."

It was as if you’d just torn your own heart out with your bare hands.

Love will not fail. If it fails, it’s not love.

It had been days since you moved.

And still, no matter how many boxes you unpacked, no matter how carefully you folded your grandmother’s cardigans into drawers or wiped down every surface, this place didn’t breathe like the home you left behind.

The sky hadn't lightened once since you arrived. It hung heavy and bruised from dawn to dusk, a slate-colored weight pressing down on everything. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw sunlight crack through.

And then, the rain came.

You noticed it first in the shift of the wind. A few drops scattered across the concrete, and then it broke open all at once. Panic seized you as your mind jumped to the laundry. The sheets you’d washed them early this morning and hung them in the front of your lawn, hoping they'd dry before nightfall.

You bolted outside, breath shallow, feet slipping slightly against the wet pavement. Cold droplets clung to your hair, running down the line of your neck, soaking through your shoulders. Your fingers fumbled over the clothesline as you yanked the white sheets down frantically, heart racing as you tried to save what little you had.

And then — Your body stilled. Your hands slackened on the fabric as your gaze caught on a figure standing just past the fence.

For a moment, the rain softened around you, every sound falling away except the ragged beat of your own heart breaking all over again.

Choi Soobin’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles pale under the dim wash of the dashboard lights. His eyes flicked from one worn street sign to the next, cataloguing every turn, every corner, like a man tracing the edges of an old wound. Every so often, he let the car slow to a crawl. Stared a little too long at places that meant nothing to him, but might have meant everything to you.

It’s the town, the one his investigator pointed him to. The small, quiet town where the woman who tore through his world had disappeared into without a trace but with every piece of him still in her hands.

He’d already gone over everything twice. No. Three times. He couldn’t remember anymore. His chest felt tight, like something was sitting on it and daring him to breathe around the weight. He wondered if he should start all over tomorrow. Sweep the streets again. Retrace the steps he didn’t even know you'd taken.

Without meaning to, Soobin’s hands turned the wheel, guiding him down a road he’d circled too many times to count. Muscle memory, maybe. He didn’t know why he kept coming back.

The first drops of rain tapped against the windshield, soft and uncertain, like the sky hadn’t made up its mind yet. He let out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. He glanced right, thinking to turn back, to call it for the night. But then he saw it.

A figure cutting through the field, darting between rows of white laundry sheets billowing in the wind like ghosts.

He didn’t think. His door was open before he could catch the impulse, the car engine still on behind him as he bolted forward. He didn’t even shut the door. His feet hit the wet grass hard, slipping a little, but he kept running. Fast. Desperate. Like if he blinked, even for a heartbeat, you might vanish.

The way you vanished from his life when he turned his back.

If he’d stayed that day. If he’d ignored the meeting, called in sick, shut the world out, would you still be here now?

He saw you stumble back. Your shoulders tensed, then you turned to escape. And just like that, the breath punched out of his lungs. His heart cracked against his ribs, like thunder rolling too close to the ground. Panic clawed at his throat. His feet wouldn’t move fast enough. So he did the only thing left.

He called your name. Louder than he meant to. He shouted it. Frantic. You didn’t move at first. Just stared at him across the field, rain threading through your hair, clinging to your skin. When you spoke, your voice was sharp.

“Why are you here?” You asked, each word flung like stones across the space between you. Your jaw clenched. “Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I tell you I don’t want you anymore?”

Your voice cut clean but your hands betrayed you. They shook at your sides, fingers twitching like they weren’t sure whether to reach for him or push him away. The ache in your throat frayed the edge of every word. And Soobin saw it. He saw all of it.

Choi Soobin stares at you, the glisten in his eyes that you've come to know whispers his truth. He's now infront of you, eyes sweeping your face.

The storm isn’t just around him; it’s inside him, bleeding into the tremble of his hands as he reach and clutch your wrists, desperate. Rain seeps through his clothes, slides down his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He just looks at you.

Because you're the only thing keeping him standing.

"Marry me." It’s his last attempt to keep you from walking away. “Marry me, and I’ll do anything you want. Anything. Just don’t—” His throat closed up, and for a second, it sounded like he forgot how to breathe. “Don’t walk away again.”

“I said—”

“Don’t lie to me!” The words snapped harder than he wanted, frustration cracking wide open in his chest. His hands curled into fists at his sides, not in anger but in helplessness. “Don’t make me feel crazy. Don’t make me feel stupid. My sister told me everything, Y/N. I know. I know everything.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. Your shoulders caved, the last of your defenses buckling under the weight of it all.

“I’m not fit for your world,” you choked, voice splintering as tears blurred your vision. Your hands fell limp at your sides, fingers tangled in the thin fabric of the laundry you’d long forgotten.

“I don’t have anything. I hardly even have myself,” you whispered, your face crumpling like it hurt to say the truth out loud. “And you — you deserve the world. You deserve more than someone who can’t even keep her life straight.”

Soobin’s chest hollowed at the sight of you crumbling in front of him. He didn’t care about the rain, or the mud soaking through his shoes, or the ache in his lungs. There was only one thing left he wanted to do. Fall to his knees if he had to. Beg, if that’s what it took. Beg for you. Beg for everything.

“I don’t want the world.” His eyes locked on yours, fierce and aching. “I never wanted any of that. Not once. I just… I just want you.”

His breath shuddered out, shaky, as if saying it hurt and healed him all at once. “I want to live with you. To grow old with you. To have your children. To wake up next to you for the rest of my life.” His words stumbled, his throat thick with the burn of unshed tears, but he didn’t stop.

Before you could slip farther away, Soobin reached for you, his arms wrapped tight around you, pulling you into his chest. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers threading into your damp hair with a gentleness that almost broke you on the spot. His heartbeat thundered against your cheek.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, voice cracking on the plea. “Please, baby. Not when I finally found you. Not when all I want… is to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He felt you shift in his hold, felt your hands press against his chest like you were about to push him away. His stomach dropped but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t.

“I love you.” The words came out hoarse, frayed at the edges. Honest in a way that stripped him bare. He felt you still. The tension in your shoulders faltered. Slowly, slowly, you softened against him, all the walls you’d been gripping so tightly started to crumble in his arms.

You stopped pulling away this time.

“I love you,” he breathed again. His lips brushed against your temple, “I’ll fix everything for us. I swear it. You just have to trust me, baby. Please. Just trust me.”

He felt your arms loosen, the fight in them dissolving. Softening, giving your surrender — just as the rain itself began to ease, falling gentler, as though the sky had finally tired too. A breath punched out of his chest, relief so fierce it almost dropped him to his knees. His arms closed tighter around you, cradling you against him like he could tuck you safely inside his ribs, where nothing could ever reach you again.

When would he ever get a moment like this again?

A chance like this? To meet his soulmate. To meet the one person who could read the shadows behind his smile before he even noticed they were there. Who knew him better than he had ever dared to know himself.

What were the odds? If he hadn’t driven down that street that day. If he hadn’t wandered into your little flower shop with its peeling paint and sunlight pooling across wooden counters. If he hadn’t looked up and seen you and not known, right then, that he’d nearly lived his life without finding his missing half. And what were the chances you would’ve seen him?

He shuddered, blinking hard against the burn behind his eyes. His throat tightened as he breathed you in, the faint trace of wildflowers still clinging to your skin like memory. His heart clenched.

The odds of this… of you… out of all the people, all the cities, all the winding chances and missed timings, was one in a million.

taglist: ily @heesmiles , @lovingbeomgyudayone , @virtaideen , @hyukascampfire , @fancypeacepersona , @bamgeutori , @lilbrorufr , @beomieeeeeeeeeeees , @xylatox , @yunverie , @imlonelydontsendhelp , @moagyuu , @immelissaaa , @readinmidnight , @pagelets , @wonderstrucktae , @boba-beom , @seodami , @izzyy-stuff , @gyudollies , @i-am-not-dal , @page-isa , @tyunarisu , @s0urcherry , @prettypeachprincesz @zaynspidey @sxmmerberries @immelissaaa @definitelynotherr @fics-lovebot @missychief1404 @irishspringing @lovesickchoi @beomgyusluver @sumzysworld @usuallyunlikelyfox @soo-blue @younbeanz @storminacloud @bamgeutori @soobinieswife @prized-jules @soobmeongie @lostgirlysstuff @hoseocakes @fancypeacepersona @ke4s @lvlyhiyyih @aerangi @suneonu @ryuhannaworld @soheeunderthesun @luvleyylina @georgeweasleys-gf @marissariveraaaa

[shariasweet]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ angel girl

_._____ 𝒙 f.reader

wc ::: drabble length sharinote ::: contains dumbification and some other stuff! unprotected sex as well as mirror sex… also pet names (SLIGHT daddy kink… im so sorry) and overstimulation + squirting and maybs a little roughness. this isn’t proofread grrr :(

[porn no plot] just your boyfriend fucking you dumb and making you squirt 👻

'dumb baby...' your boyfriend relentlessly fucked into you from behind — his breath hot and fanning against you neck, fueling to the fire that was your arousal.

the mirror in front of you was just as foggy as your brain — your eyes clouded, and rolled back as you babbled incoherently. 'mmm...' a soft groan fell bubbling from between your lips.

'you're drooling everywhere, sweet girl...’ your boyfriend’s rough thrusts coming to a slow halt as his hands snaked around your body. ‘here… give daddy your chin, sweetheart.' his long slender fingers came crawling between the valley of your breasts and past your neck to firmly grip you cheeks.

'look at you, sweetheart. so, so pretty.' as he forced your face up and out of the sheets his lips met your own in a sloppy wet kiss — one filled with passion and desire. once more, his hips forcefully slammed against your ass — red from the friction as he buried himself deep within your sopping cunt.

'good girl...' his hand groped the swell of your breasts. as you were overwhelmed with pleasure, you could feel yourself slipping away. what you’d assumed to be your third, maybe fourth orgasm crept up on you. 'aht aht...’ he tutted in your ear. ‘want you to look... watch it, pretty girl.'

you could feel him roughly repositioning your face yet again to stare into your reflection.

he trailed kisses along your neck, chuckling warmly as he saw your eyes snap open in awe at the scene before you: your thighs littered in hickeys your lips puffy and swollen and your whole body quivering in absolute bliss.

'ah! s'too much... s'so deep!' you squirmed. he pressed on the bulge poking out from your lower abdomen. 'too deep? m'only right here... how about this?' harder. deeper. you suddenly hit the mattress, his grip on your waist faltering as he fucked into you with even more dedication... slamming you down and splitting you open for the umpteenth time on his cock... he continued bullying himself cozily into your cunt as he drilled further, and further within you velvety wet walls. ‘ffuck… always so tight aren’t you, baby?’

'ahw fuck, fuck mh!' gasping, your fingers knotted up in the sheets as you moaned uncontrollably… back arching far into the bed before he lifted you up yet again — his tip practically kissing your cervix.

‘shit! w-wait…’ the knot in your stomach began to wrap itself up. waves of pleasure threatening to fall and crash over you if he continued — which he did.

it only took a few more thrusts — each drag of his cock soothing your high as you’d finally came.

sharp thrust after sharp thrust… you took note of how he carefully overstimulated you. harshly rubbing your clit even after your orgasm. ‘shit! a-already… fuck… I already came.’ you pout, whining. ‘I know, just hold on, baby… need one more thing from you.’

‘unghhh!’ the male had lifted you up once more… your reflection not your own as you appeared completely ruined. ‘how’s it feel hm?’ your sore core ached — burning hot as you cried, leaning into his neck. ‘don’t hide.’

‘feels like im ‘gonna pee…’ you mumbled beneath your breath. he nodded. ‘good girl, let go f’me.’

another knot came forming in your tummy…

‘w-wait! ohmygodohmygod..!’ and clear liquid shot from between you legs. drenching the sheets and you and your boyfriend's thighs.

the two of you breathed heavily collapsing onto one another as he kissed your forehead. ‘angel girl…’ he purred. ‘did so good for me yeah?’

lee heuseng: yang jungwon: choi soobin: kang taehyun: jeong yunho: choi san: taesan: leehan: park gunwook: suh johnny: lee jeno: whoever else your little heart desires 🤍

[lovesickchoi]

📁 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

[hyukascampfire]

(🧦) THINK I CAN'T? .. い葉 hard thoughts

𝓘N WHICH 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝖻𝗂𝗇'𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝗽

husband수빈 ⟡ fem r 1OOO ········· est relationship fluff smut … unprotected sex creampie trying for a baby sweetness breeding kink trad roles

⠀ɑ︭ : my second breeding kink soobin fic... i have no excuses. this hard thought is from @saejinniestar everybody give her a round of applause for this beauty :3

Soobin won’t accept it. He just can’t. When you began trying, he assumed that it would take him… What? A month? To get you pregnant. Well, it’s been more than a month. Six, to be exact. That single red line appears behind his eyelids every time he curls up behind you for bed, taunting him. He feels like even less of a man each time you walk into the bathroom with wary hope in your eyes and then walk out with your shoulders drooping.

No, he certainly can’t handle it at all. A month ago you brought him along to your friend’s baby shower. The sweet pink blush on your cheeks as you tried to smile for her and pretend that she wasn’t living your dream was simply the icing on the cake. He’s been all over you since that day, because suddenly the thought of you with a round belly and the glow of pregnancy around you has become entirely real, and entirely branded into the back of his skull. The baby section in stores and all those clothes, impossibly tiny and precious, have begun to be taunting more than endearing. How cruel. You’ve checked your fertility, and he’s checked his. Perfectly normal. So, why the hell can’t he get you pregnant?

And you wish he didn’t blame himself. You run his hair between your fingers and pepper kisses over his cheeks and tell him that you couldn’t ask for a better partner and future father to your children, but that’s just adding insult to injury. A deeper part of you has already begun to try and make peace with perhaps having to build your family another way, and Soobin’s already tearing himself up.

“You know, I was researching IVF…” you say, words muffled into the blanket he long ago claimed to be his. He’d been at work all day, and it smelt of velvety woods and whisky traces of his cologne. Anything to be closer to him. Especially these days.

Soobin freezes, frowning. “IVF?” A thousand thoughts flash through his head, but he couldn't lie. Each and every one involved pinning you to the bed and filling you up. “Are you serious? You think I can’t get you pregnant?” The first time you’ve had this conversation out loud—addressed the issue. It’s not working. It wasn’t that it was an irrational thing for you to consider—Soobin knows that. It doesn’t help his bruised ego much to hear his wife consider impregnating herself like that because he couldn’t fucking do it the way nature intended for him to do it.

Sighing, you soften your voice and go to lather him in cashmere kisses. “Soobin… I’m just think—”

He can’t let you get that thought out. He can’t consider that maybe he can’t get his goddamn wife pregnant. Soobin stops you halfway, his mouth on yours as he gets you ready on the bed with his steady strength, flipping you this way and situating your leg that way. Once he has you how he likes, stuffing a pillow beneath your hips because that’s supposed to help. Soobin can’t help but scoff into your neck. If anything’s going to get you knocked up, it’ll be that he keeps you in this bed, soft and sweet for him as you always are, until you’re full of him. That’s that. 

You whisper his name as he slides in with tender reverence. Soobin has always been big, and as much as you’ve adjusted to him over time, your toes still curl each time. It makes no sense—you’re both fertile, he never misses a chance to make love to you at peak ovulation, and he nearly brushes your damn cervix when he’s hilted in you. You should be carrying his baby by now. Something in the look in his eye tells you that you just might be, when he’s done with you.

“Just…” Soobin says with his voice on a leash, opting for languid, pointed thrusts. Sex became a chore there for a minute. Something for a means to an end. But he’s gonna make tender love to you tonight, because that’s what his sweet wife deserves. “Let me do this.”

He knows your body and all its little ticks. He knows that you like it when he points his hips that way, and that you like his hands on the fat of your hips as he takes you. Soobin pulls out all the stops, in fact. He bends you nearly in half, because according to whatever some maternity website told him it’s the best way to ensure his cum takes. You’re making sweet sounds into his neck and he’s losing himself at the desperate thought that after this, some day soon you’ll be under him like this with your belly in the way and begging for him to take care of your hormone-sensitive body.

Soobin’s mind muffles at the thought. The way that you’re looking up at him with glazed eyes and how your heels dig into the dimples at his spine as if even subconsciously you’re begging for him to impregnate you. He chases it until he’s pinning you to the bed and filling you up with a shuddered, husky whimper and a thousand panted ‘I love you’s puffing out into the air between you. Because he can’t handle it; he absolutely cannot wait to have a family with you, and he cannot wait for you to give him such a gift. With you.

The sound of him pulling out of you is a resounding wet pop. The white rivulets of his cum come oozing out after it, warm down your skin.

Soobin would usually go to plug it right back into you with his fingers, but he can’t help watching it for a while as he catches his breaths and presses a warm kiss to your ankle. And he just knows. He just knows that this is it. Heart aching in his chest, he pulls you to his solid chest, feeling the shape of you against him and letting himself appreciate your weight and soft edges. “You don’t need to do anything,” he breathes into your skin. “Let me take care of it, love.”

Sure enough, the next test you take answers with two, indelible red lines. Soobin sure did take care of it, just how you know he’ll take care of you and your family. He couldn’t  get his hands off you that night, and as you begin to show with a soft curve to your belly, he’s even worse off, because fuck. 

He did that.

OO1. 【 tagging 】 . . . @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @hyucktapes , @bewitchless , @prince-jjae , @blankliving , @yaoizee , @stormy1408 , @missychief1404 , @izzyy-stuff , @miukuui , @lunesdesire , @sunoolver , @cherricola-star , @xylatox , @filmnings , @hearteyes4hobi , @hyunj00 , @taebatu , @caratcakemoa , @biteyoubiteme , @dawngyu , @hyunruhi

rblgs & asks >ᴗ<

[cbeargyu]

affection ✧.* c.soobin

summary: you weren’t looking for love. just… something. a hand to hold, a moment of quiet, a heart that didn’t feel so heavy. but chasing affection in the wrong places had left you emptier each time — until you met him. soobin. kind, gentle, patient soobin. you pushed him away when he tried to reach the parts of you you didn’t want anyone to see. but he stayed. he saw the broken pieces and didn’t flinch. and somehow, just standing next to him felt like coming home.

pairing: nerd!soobin x fem!reader

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, slow burn, mutual pining, emotional vulnerability, past trauma, soft smut, comfort sex, college au, emotional intimacy, fluff with heavy angst, crying during sex, heartbreak, toxic ex (jaehyun).

warnings: sexual content (soft smut, explicit but tender), emotional vulnerability, references to emotional manipulation/past toxic relationship, crying during intimacy, self-worth issues, mentions of emotional trauma, angst-heavy scenes, mild cursing, reader has intimacy and trust issues, soobin is the softest human alive and will make you cry (18+ only, minors DNI).

notes: i’m so happy and grateful for all the love the beomgyu fic has received — it truly means a lot to me 🥺🖤 just a reminder: English isn’t my first language, so thank you for your patience! This is also my first time writing smut, so I hope you enjoy it and feel the love I put into every word.

soobin never planned to go to that party. he had a project due on monday, a group report no one else was helping with, and a whole list of unread notifications in his coding forum. parties weren’t his scene. they were loud, chaotic, full of meaningless chatter and fake small talk.

but his roommate, choi beomgyu begged him to go — “come on, hyung, the girls from visual communication are joining this time. you can't code your youth away.”

so, reluctantly, soobin showed up, neat as always — white button-down shirt, black slacks, and his usual black-rimmed glasses that he adjusted every few minutes out of habit. while his classmates shouted over music and downed shots of soju like water, he sat at the far end of the table, sipping a soda, quietly observing.

that’s when you walked in.

he saw you before you noticed him. you wore confidence like perfume — not overwhelming, but impossible to ignore. your black crop top hugged your body perfectly, a short skirt revealing just enough, and those heeled boots clicked against the floor like a beat only you could walk to. your hair fell just right. your eyes scanned the room like you already owned it.

and then they landed on him.

you tilted your head curiously. he looked different from the others — formal, stiff, awkwardly seated like he was out of place. but there was something about him... maybe it was the way his lips twitched nervously whenever someone made a joke, or how his fingers tapped rhythmically on his glass, like his brain was always working on something unspoken.

you slid into the empty seat across from him.

“hi,” you said, voice clear and sweet, but assertive. “soobin, right?”

his eyes widened slightly. “y-yeah. How’d you—?”

“you’re the only one not yelling,” you smirked. “kinda refreshing.”

he chuckled nervously, pushing his glasses up. “i guess i don’t blend in much.”

“that’s a good thing,” you replied without hesitation. “wanna drink?”

he hesitated, eyes flickering to the soju bottle you were holding.

“i don’t really drink.”

you leaned closer, a playful smile on your lips. “i won’t let you overdo it. promise.”

something about the way you said it — lighthearted, but sincere — made him nod.

you poured the drinks. one. two. light sips. soft laughter. his walls started to come down, little by little. you asked about his major. he asked about yours. you joked about how communication students always had to look flawless for presentations, and he admitted he didn’t even own hair gel.

then, the conversation shifted.

“so, uh,” soobin began, scratching the back of his neck, “i’ve been playing around with some indie game engines. just as a hobby. i’m trying to create this… interactive narrative? like a retro pixel art game with moral choice-based paths. i know it sounds kinda nerdy—”

“nerdy?” you interrupted. “that sounds sick. wait—so, like, the player’s decisions affect the storyline?”

his eyes lit up. you weren’t mocking him — you were interested.

He nodded, and as he talked, he got more animated. His voice rose with excitement as he described the branching paths, the artwork, the emotional arcs. he didn’t notice the way you shifted closer, your hand now resting on the table near his. he didn’t notice the way your thigh gently brushed his leg under the table.

“so... moral choices, huh?” you say, chin propped on your hand as you watch soobin’s eyes light up with every word he speaks. “like what? save the princess or let her die?”

he laughs, warm and unguarded. “kind of. but more... morally gray. like: help your friend cheat on an exam and risk your own grade, or tell the professor and lose the friendship.”

you raise a brow, intrigued. “damn. that’s... deep. and very specific. did that happen to you?”

he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “no. maybe. it’s a hypothetical.”

“right,” you say with a smirk, reaching for the soju bottle to pour another round. “well, professor choi, i hope you gave your digital friend some slack.”

“i made two endings,” he replies, then pauses. “wait, professor?”

you shrug, tilting your glass toward his. “you talk like one. all serious and nerdy.”

“i’m not that serious,” he protests, smiling now, more relaxed.

you lean in slightly, voice soft. “you kind of are. but I like it.”

he’s silent for a moment, blinking.

then, in a softer voice, he asks, “what about you? i’ve been rambling this whole time. what’s your major again?”

“media production,” you say casually. “i make pretty things look important.”

he smiles. “sounds fun.”

you nod. “it is. lots of editing, lots of late nights. but i like telling stories.” you pause, your gaze dipping to his lips for the briefest second before locking eyes again. “even the fake ones.”

he laughs at that. “maybe you could help with the cinematics for my game.”

“only if you give me creative control over the main character’s love story.”

he raises a brow. “that’s... oddly specific.”

you wink. “everything’s a love story, soobin.”

he swallows, hard.

but he noticed when you suddenly leaned into him to hear better — the bar had gotten louder, the music thumping. your shoulder touched his. your chest grazed his arm. and for the first time in his life, choi soobin forgot how to breathe.

you didn’t pull away.

neither did he.

you both sip your soju, and for a moment, neither speaks. the table around you has gotten louder. someone yells out a drinking chant. you glance sideways, then lean in just a little more so he can hear you.

“you know,” you murmur near his ear, your breath warm against his skin, “your friend beomgyu is wasted.”

soobin follows your gaze. beomgyu’s halfway off his seat, swaying dramatically while trying to sing along to a girl group song.

he huffs a laugh. “he’s always like that. gets drunk off three shots and starts performing like he’s on music bank.”

you turn your face toward soobin’s, still whispering. your lips are inches from his ear. “at least he’s not in the bathroom with a sunbae.”

soobin blinks. “what?”

you grin. “my friends went with a few. they’ve been gone for a while.” you pause for dramatic effect. “you do know what happens when girls go to the bathroom with sunbaes, right?”

soobin’s entire face flushes.

“i—uh—i mean—maybe they’re just—talking?” he stammers.

you burst into soft laughter, brushing his knee with yours under the table. “you’re so pure, soobin.”

“i’m not!” he protests, but he’s still red, ears pink and glowing.

“oh, really?” you tease, tilting your head. “then why are you blushing so hard?”

he opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out. he looks away, adjusting his glasses, trying to hide the way his eyes keep drifting back to your lips — still glossed and shining from the soju.

you lean closer, your voice barely above a whisper now. “you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

soobin freezes.

you smile.

and he realizes something, right then and there: you're not just beautiful. you're dangerous.

the music booms louder. someone starts chanting for shots again. but for you and Soobin, the world has narrowed into one tiny space: the few inches between your face and his.

he’s looking at you like he’s not sure if this is real — like you might vanish if he blinks too long.

but you don’t.

instead, you stay close. too close. your perfume has wrapped around him like a spell, and your knee is still brushing against his. the room is hot, but it’s nothing compared to the burn beneath his skin.

“soobin,” you whisper again, teasing, your voice honeyed, “are you really as pure as you look?”

“i—” he starts, voice dry, but you cut him off.

you tilt your head and, without warning, you press your lips to his.

it’s soft.

just a taste.

he freezes for a second — surprised, breath caught — and then, like something deep inside him snaps, he kisses you back.

harder.

with need.

his hand finds your waist, gripping tight, pulling you closer with a quiet desperation. you gasp slightly against his mouth, not expecting the sudden boldness. but you love it. you lean in more, wrapping your fingers around the collar of his button-up shirt, tugging him toward you.

he tastes like soju and mint gum and something that’s just… soobin.

his other hand fumbles before settling on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. there’s something both unsure and intense in his touch — like he’s scared he’ll mess it up, but even more scared to stop.

you pull back just enough to breathe, your lips swollen and your eyes glazed with heat.

“not so pure now, huh?” you murmur, teasing again.

he looks at you like he doesn’t know whether to kiss you or confess something bigger — but he chooses the first, crashing his mouth back onto yours with a groan that rumbles from his chest.

when you shift closer, almost climbing onto his lap, he holds you with more force than you expected. his fingers dig into your hips as if anchoring himself, as if he doesn’t want to let go.

your hand slips beneath his shirt, palm brushing his stomach, and he exhales sharply against your mouth. his lips move to your jaw, then your neck, uncertain at first… until he hears your soft gasp.

“let’s go,” you whisper in his ear, breathless, the suggestion hanging hot in the space between you.

he stiffens. “to… my place?”

you smirk. “too far.”

your hand slips into his, firm and electric.

“my apartment’s closer.”

you don’t wait for him to agree.

you just lead him out — past the pulsing music, past beomgyu still singing in his drunken stupor, past your friends who are nowhere to be seen — and into the cool night air, where soobin’s heart beats so loud he’s sure you can hear it.

he doesn’t know what’s going to happen.

but he knows he’s not stopping you.

and that he wants this — you — more than anything he's ever wanted before.

your apartment was dimly lit — soft, warm, intimate. the moment the door clicked shut behind you, it was like the air changed. soobin stood there for a second, his eyes scanning your space like he’d just stepped into another realm. then you turned to him, a teasing smile curling at your lips, and tugged him gently by the hem of his shirt.

he followed like gravity.

the first kiss happened slowly — a hesitant brush of lips that turned into something deeper. desperate. heated. you tasted of soju and strawberry gloss, and he tasted like restraint finally snapping in half. his hands found your waist, clumsy at first, then firmer, as if he was trying to memorize the shape of you with his fingers.

clothes fell off in pieces — half-forgotten in the trail from the hallway to your bed.

soobin’s eyes never left yours, even when you pulled him over you, even when your nails raked softly down his back. he asked you quietly if this was okay. you answered with a kiss that made him groan against your mouth.

and when he finally moved inside you — shaky but tender — it wasn’t perfect.

it was better.

it was real. hot. messy. and achingly good.

you guided him, whispered to him, taught him what you liked — and he listened. god, he listened. every sound you made, every arch of your back, he responded like he was being graded on it.

and if he was, he passed with flying colors.

he was intuitive. curious. attentive.

no man had ever made you feel like that.

the climax hit you like a wave crashing too fast — unexpected and all-consuming. his name fell from your lips like a secret, like a confession. and when it was over, when you lay tangled together in the silence of your room, your heart was racing not just from the sex, but from him.

you should’ve felt satisfied.

instead, you felt… addicted.

the hum of the editing lab wrapped around you both like a low heartbeat. it was almost midnight, and the room had long emptied, save for the soft glow of the screen and the occasional sound of soobin typing, hesitant, as if even his fingers were overthinking.

you leaned back in your chair, eyes on the render but mind somewhere else — maybe still tangled in his sheets from last night.

“you okay?” he asked quietly, glancing sideways at you.

you nodded, absently. “just tired.”

"so..." he starts, voice low, not meeting your eyes. “last night. i didn’t mean to stay so long.”

you tilt your head, smirking. "you mean, you didn’t mean to keep me up 'til 3 am?"

his ears flush pink, but he chuckles. “well, you didn’t seem to mind.”

you lean in, your voice dropping an octave. “i didn’t.”

it was a half-truth.

you weren’t tired. you were numb.

not from exhaustion, but from the repetition — the cycle.

work. touch. release. silence.

he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something more, then stopped. instead, he scrolled through the code, pretending to focus, but his eyes kept drifting.

you noticed. of course you noticed.

you always did.

“you know,” you said, breaking the silence, “your animation loop still stutters at frame 27. i can help you clean it up later.”

he smiled — small, shy. “you don’t have to. I already owe you too much.”

you shrugged. “it’s your project, soobin. i’m just… happy to be part of it.”

another silence fell, but this one was heavier. His gaze lingered on you longer now. not the way he did when you were naked and under him. this was different. softer. wanting.

you hated that look.

so you stood up, stretching slightly, letting your shirt ride up just enough to tease.

“i should go,” you said.

he blinked, caught off guard. “already? it’s not that late—”

“you need rest,” you cut in, grabbing your bag. "big day tomorrow.”

he hesitated. “can i… can i come over?”

you turned to him slowly, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

“do you want to?”

his ears flushed. he looked down at his hands. “you know i do.”

you stepped closer, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “then say it.”

soobin looked up, meeting your eyes. there was something fragile in his expression — hope, maybe. longing.

but you didn’t let it bloom.

you leaned in, brushing your lips against his, soft and fleeting. a kiss with no promise.

no future.

“i’ll text you,” you whispered. “if i feel like it.”

then you turned and left, the door clicking softly behind you.

it was past 1:30 a.m. when you heard the soft knock at your door.

three short taps. hesitant. familiar.

you were in bed, hair loose, wearing nothing but an old oversized tee and underwear, your laptop glowing softly with a paused movie. for a second, you thought you were imagining it. but then it came again — one more knock. you got up slowly, half-annoyed, half-curious.

when you opened the door, there he was.

choi soobin. hoodie slightly damp from the drizzle outside. his glasses fogged up. eyes wide, like he didn’t plan on actually doing this until he did.

you leaned against the frame, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “couldn’t sleep?”

he looked down, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted quietly. “i didn’t want to wait for a text.”

your lips curled slightly. “bold tonight, aren’t you?”

he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “can i come in?”

you stepped aside, not saying a word. he brushed past you, and you closed the door behind him with a click that sounded like permission.

as soon as he turned around, you pressed him against the wall, your hands sliding under his hoodie. he gasped softly, but his hands found your waist like instinct.

“i wasn’t sure you’d come,” you murmured against his jaw, lips ghosting over his skin.

“i told you i would if you asked,” he whispered, already breathless.

“i didn’t ask.”

“you didn’t have to.”

you kissed him then — no teasing, no buildup. just lips crashing, hungry, messy, desperate. he kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d imagined this moment a hundred times, and now it was finally real. your fingers tangled in his hoodie, pulling it up, and he broke the kiss only to help you tug it off.

your hands roamed his chest, down to his abs — firm, warm. he wasn’t the scrawny nerd you first thought he’d be. He had strength, a body that surprised you. you tugged him down by the waistband of his sweats, eyes locked on his, voice a low whisper against his lips.

“sit back for me, soobin.”

he blinked, confused, aroused. “w–what?”

you pushed gently at his chest, guiding him to the edge of the bed. he obeyed without protest, legs parted, hands gripping the sheets.

“i want to taste you,” you said simply, dropping to your knees between his thighs.

his breath hitched. “y/n…”

you smiled up at him, slow and sinful. “relax.”

with one hand, you pulled his sweats and boxers down in a single motion, exposing him fully. He was already hard, flushed and twitching, and the sight of it made you ache.

“shit,” he whispered, covering his face with one hand. “i can’t believe this is happening.”

you leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh, then up, up — teasing, warm, slow. he trembled under your mouth. when you finally took him in, inch by inch, his hand flew to your hair, not to push, just to hold. like he needed something to ground him.

“f–fuck, y/n—” his hips bucked slightly, but you pressed a hand to his stomach, holding him in place. your tongue swirled around him, dragging moans from his throat like music.

“you feel so good,” he groaned, head falling back. “i don’t think i’m gonna last…”

you pulled back just enough to say, “then don’t.”

then you took him deep again, your rhythm relentless, cheeks hollowing, eyes locked on his. watching him fall apart under your touch. his thighs tightened, his moans got louder, breath ragged.

“y/n— i’m— i’m gonna—”

you didn’t stop.

you stayed right there, even when his hips jerked, when he spilled into your mouth with a broken, helpless cry of your name. you swallowed, slow and deliberate, then licked your lips as you sat back on your knees, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

he looked down at you, completely wrecked.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, eyes still glazed.

you just smirked. “not yet.”

then you pulled him down to the bed, climbed on top, and whispered against his lips:

“soobin,” you whispered, voice low, sultry. “you gonna just stay there, or are you gonna fuck me like you mean it?”

his eyes widened, dark with desire. “i don’t wanna mess this up.”

you stepped closer, pressing his hand against the curve of your ass. “then don’t.”

That was all it took.

he grabbed your thighs and lifted you easily, like instinct, like he’d wanted to do this forever. you wrapped your legs around his waist, lips finding his again as he carried you, bumping into the walls, breathless laughter between kisses. when he laid you on the bed, his hands trembled — not from fear, but anticipation.

he knelt between your legs, pulling your panties down slowly. watching your expression. eyes flickering between your parted lips and the way you bit them.

“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. “i’ve never seen anything like you.”

you smirked, “then show me how much you like what you see.”

and he did.

his mouth, warm and eager, exploring your skin, your thighs, your core. It wasn’t perfect, but it was passionate. raw. messy. and so damn real. you moaned his name, fingers tangling in his hair, and when he finally slid inside you — slow, deep — he gasped like it was the first breath he’d taken in hours.

“so tight,” he groaned into your neck. “fuck—i... i love this..."

you rocked your hips against his, matching his rhythm, breath against his ear. “feel me, baby. you’re inside me now. nothing to overthink.”

his pace quickened, your bodies moving in sync, sweat slicking your skin. his name spilled from your lips, breathy and broken. he looked down at you, jaw clenched, fighting to last.

“i’m close,” he warned.

you cupped his face, kissed him deep. “then don’t hold back. cum for me.”

he did — with a soft, choked moan against your neck, his whole body trembling. and you followed soon after, your climax crashing into you like a wave, sharp and sweet and overwhelming.

you lay there for a moment, tangled in sheets and each other, chests rising and falling in sync.

but then, the moment passed.

you pulled away first.

no words. no promises. you grabbed his hoodie from the floor and tossed it to him.

“It’s late,” you said, voice flat now.

he nodded, quietly getting dressed, still catching his breath. “right. i’ll… see you tomorrow? for the project?”

you smiled faintly, eyes unreadable. “of course.”

and just like that, he left — around 3 a.m., hoodie half on, hair messy, heart heavier than he’d admit.

you lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

he was addictive.

but this wasn’t love.

just affection.

the next day, you were already in the media lab by noon, hair up in a clip, sipping an iced coffee like nothing happened. like you hadn’t spent half the night moaning his name into your sheets. you were scrolling through some reference animations when you heard the door creak.

he walked in — soobin, hoodie slightly rumpled, eyes darker than usual, laptop tucked under one arm like a shield.

“hey,” he said, voice low, careful.

you didn’t look up right away.

“hey,” you replied casually, then shot him a glance. “you look like you slept five minutes.”

“three,” he muttered, sitting beside you. “thanks to you.”

you smirked. “you're welcome.”

he chuckled under his breath, but the way his eyes lingered on your collarbone, on the way your fingers tapped against your straw — it wasn’t casual for him. not anymore.

“so… did you get a chance to work on that npc dialogue system?” you asked, flipping the screen toward him.

he blinked. took a second too long to switch gears. “yeah, uh—yeah. i built the first tree structure. i’ll show you.”

you leaned closer, shoulder to shoulder, like nothing. like you hadn’t had him inside you hours ago.

he shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his position, fingers suddenly awkward on the trackpad.

“you okay?” you asked, feigning innocence.

he nodded, then… hesitated. “do you… always do that?”

your brows lifted. “do what?”

he stared at the screen. “act like it didn’t happen.”

you tilted your head, biting back a grin. “did you want a commemorative plaque or something?”

soobin flushed immediately, lips pressing into a line. “no. just—forget it.”

silence stretched for a moment. you let it.

because you were fine. it was what it was.

friends. collaborators. occasional bodies tangled in bedsheets.

no promises.

no future.

just affection when the night hit hard and the skin craved warmth.

you leaned in again, voice low and playful, barely above a whisper. “i like you better when you’re coding instead of catching feelings.”

that made him laugh — small and bitter, but still soobin.

“yeah,” he murmured, “me too.”

you sat side by side, going over the storyboard edits for soobin’s game. but his knee kept brushing against yours. your fingers kept finding excuses to linger near his. every time you spoke, he looked at your lips instead of your eyes.

a laugh. a brush of fingers when you reached for the same pen. the hum of your breathing syncing unconsciously as you leaned over his sketchpad, discussing the new character render.

but the tension was undeniable — thick, like summer air before a storm.

you shifted in your seat. soobin’s gaze followed the curve of your mouth when you smiled at something dumb he said. his knee bumped yours under the table — once, twice — and this time he didn’t move away.

your eyes locked.

he licked his lips.

you tilted your head.

“are you going to kiss me,” you whispered, “or just keep pretending you’re focused?”

soobin blinked, startled — but only for a second. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in with a hunger he rarely let slip. his mouth found yours in a kiss that was wet, desperate, a little uncoordinated, but still made your body heat like a fever.

you straddled him in the lab chair, fingers digging into his shoulders as his lips mapped your throat. he groaned quietly when your hips rolled against his. you loved how sensitive he was, how new it still felt to him.

his fingers fumbled at your waistband, and yours slipped under his hoodie, nails grazing the skin of his stomach.

and then—

his voice broke through the haze.

“i think i love you...”

time paused.

the kiss didn’t end — not completely. but you stilled in his arms, lips barely touching.

he looked up at you, chest heaving. there was no mask, no hesitation in his gaze — only raw, trembling honesty.

you swallowed hard.

“someone could see us,” you murmured, pulling back slightly. your hand pressed flat against his chest. “we shouldn’t… not here.”

he nodded slowly. “right. sorry.”

but you saw the flicker in his eyes.

he knew you weren’t talking about getting caught.

and you knew… he meant every word.

soobin picked at his food, eyes blank, fingers tapping against the side of his glass.

beomgyu dropped into the seat across from him with the energy of a man who hadn’t just bombed an engineering quiz. “yo, you look like someone stepped on your graphics card.”

before soobin could reply, minah slid in beside beomgyu, planting a kiss on his cheek. “hey, babe.”

soobin blinked. “you guys are dating?”

minah giggled. “it’s recent. we met at that party a few weeks back. y/n introduced us.”

beomgyu grinned. “she’s basically the campus matchmaker.”

soobin tried to smile.

minah looked at him with a knowing softness. “she said you two are close. working together?”

“yeah,” he said, voice low. “the game project.”

“she always puts her heart into everything,” minah said, stirring her coffee. “she’s one of the kindest people i know. genuinely warm. i’ve never seen her turn anyone away.”

beomgyu smirked. “you sure that’s all it is, soobin? that game project?”

Soobin froze, caught.

minah’s smile wavered. “can i… tell you something?”

his throat tightened. “yeah.”

minah took a breath. “she dated someone last year. jung jaehyun. from the film department.”

beomgyu’s eyebrows rose. “that asshole?”

minah nodded. “he cheated on her. more than once. manipulated her too — made her feel like everything was her fault. she loved him so much, and he treated her like she was disposable. it took her almost a year to recover. she still isn’t fully herself.”

soobin felt the blood drain from his face.

“she stopped believing in love,” minah whispered. “she’s terrified of it now. of letting someone in. that’s why she pushes people away when it gets too real.”

suddenly everything made sense.

the kiss that ended too soon.

the soft panic in your eyes when he said those words.

the coldness in your voice that didn’t match your trembling fingers.

you were afraid.

not of him — but of what he made you feel.

the soft hum of the bustling street outside the café filled your ears as you stepped out into the cool evening air. you hadn’t expected to see soobin again so soon after that moment in the lab — after everything.

but there he was, standing a few feet away on the sidewalk, looking lost in thought, as if he had been waiting for something… or someone. the moment you saw him, your heart did something unexpected. It skipped, then raced. the last few hours replayed in your mind like a movie — the confession, the words you couldn’t quite process, and the tension that clung between you two.

it felt as if the air around you was thick, but in a way that made it harder to breathe, harder to stay composed. you didn’t know what to expect. but you couldn’t walk away now. not after what had happened. you hesitated, then took a step toward him, the streets buzzing around you as you made your way through the crowd. and when he turned to face you, his eyes met yours, searching. they held something — hope, maybe.

but beneath that, a vulnerability, something you’d never seen in him before. “soobin,” you said softly, just to break the silence that seemed to hang in the air. his lips parted as he spoke your name, but before he could say anything else, he took a step closer.

“i didn’t expect to see you here,” he said with a small smile, his voice a little breathless. you stood there, unsure of what to say next. the weight of your emotions was too much to voice. you’d been trying to keep your distance, but everything you’d told him in the lab — everything that had been left unspoken, was still so fresh. "y/n," he began, his tone softer than before, as if he was carefully choosing his words. "i heard something earlier... from minah. about you and jaehyun."

you froze for a moment, your heart dropping to your stomach. you hadn’t expected this, not now, not after everything. the mention of jaehyun's name immediately brought a rush of old memories — the good and the painful.

soobin noticed your reaction, his expression filled with concern. he continued, his voice quiet but sincere. “she... she told me about your past with him. how he hurt you. how you’ve been carrying that pain for a long time.”

the words hit you like a cold wave, and you immediately felt the familiar wall go up inside you. the one you had built after jaehyun shattered your trust. you tried to keep your composure, but it was hard to suppress the hurt that resurfaced in an instant.

"i didn’t mean for anyone to know," you said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

soobin stepped closer, his gaze steady but filled with empathy. "y/n, i... i didn’t know. but hearing that from her, i just want you to know that i’m not like him. i’m not going to hurt you. i care about you."

it was like everything about him had a magnetic pull on you, drawing you in. but what was it? you wanted to understand it, but you weren’t sure you were ready for that yet. you had never really thought about falling for someone again — not after what jaehyun did to you. but soobin? he was different.

from the moment you met him, something in you had clicked. his presence, his voice, the way he made everything seem lighter. it had been almost a shift in your routine. the days had become brighter, the moments when you found him beside you felt full of a warmth you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. and, just like that, your feelings for him had grown, but slowly. subtly. almost like an invisible thread that tied you to him.

and now, standing here, you realized that in the short time you’d known him, everything had changed. your world had shifted, in the best way possible. you couldn’t even remember what life was like before him anymore. the routine of school, the small annoyances that once felt like mountains, they didn’t matter anymore when you were around him. soobin made everything feel like it could be okay, like things could be light again. he made you smile without trying, made you laugh just with the way he looked at you, or the way he spoke to you. and as your heart raced now, looking at him, you realized it had been him all along, ever since that first encounter.

he took a slow step toward you, his eyes full of something sincere. “i never expected to meet someone like you,” he said. “you… you’ve made things so much better. i wasn’t sure how to say this before, but now, i have to tell you. i’m really glad i met you.” your heart skipped a beat. the words, his honesty, made your chest tighten.

"i am too," you whispered. "but i’m just... scared. you know?" he paused, looking at you with understanding.

“scared of what?” he asked gently.

"scared that i’m not ready for this," you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady. "scared of... falling for someone again. what if i screw it up? what if i can’t do this? i don’t want to hurt you, soobin."

soobin stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him. his voice was barely above a whisper.

"y/n... i'm not going anywhere. i’m here for you. whatever this is… i’ll be here, for as long as you’ll have me." you felt like you were losing control of everything inside of you. his words, his sincerity, the feeling of being cared for in a way you hadn’t felt in so long, it made your heart ache in the best possible way.

you looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of hope. but then the fear crept back in. the fear that maybe you weren’t ready to trust again, that maybe you weren’t worthy of someone’s love, especially not someone as kind as soobin.

"why does it have to be so hard?" you whispered, almost to yourself.

soobin squeezed your hand, his voice steady and calm. "because it’s worth it. if we give it a chance. if you give me a chance."

you didn’t know what to say. the vulnerability that you felt in this moment was overwhelming, but you also realized something. soobin wasn’t asking for perfection from you. he was asking for honesty, for a chance to show you that he wasn’t like jaehyun.

and despite all the fear, despite the scars left by the past, you wanted to believe him. you wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

soobin and you walk into your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you like sealing a secret. neither of you speaks—there’s no need. the electricity between you crackles in the silence, heavy with all the things you’ve both wanted to say but instead chose to show.

soobin shrugs off his hoodie in one smooth motion, and underneath, the fitted polo clings to his arms, hugging every inch of muscle you’ve fantasized about. your eyes drag over him, slow and hungry, and he catches your gaze, a smirk twitching on his lips.

“come here,” he murmurs, voice thick with intent.

you don’t even make it to the bedroom before his hands are on your waist, his mouth crushing into yours with a hunger that steals the breath right out of you. you melt into him, fingers gripping the fabric over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart pounding like it wants to break free.

the kiss deepens, lips sliding, teeth nipping, tongues meeting with desperation. he backs you into the wall, grinding his hips into yours just enough to make you gasp. one of his hands travels under your shirt, grazing the soft skin of your waist, while the other cups your jaw to tilt your face and devour your mouth deeper. you moan into the kiss, your knees going weak, and he catches you like he was waiting for it.

“you feel so good,” he breathes into your neck, licking and sucking at the skin there, leaving you marked—claimed. “you drive me fucking insane.”

by the time you reach the bed, your shirt is gone, your bra unclasped, and soobin's hands are everywhere—greedy, but still careful. he kisses down your chest, slow and savoring, like he’s worshipping you with his mouth. then his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, finding you already soaked.

“fuck,” he groans, voice rough, eyes hooded as he pulls them down. “look at you. so wet for me already. you want this?”

“god, yes,” you whisper, breath trembling.

he slides a finger inside you, slow at first—testing. then a second joins, curling just right, hitting that perfect spot that makes you whimper and arch into him. he watches you like you’re his favorite sin, completely mesmerized by how you fall apart under his touch.

your moans get louder, higher, your body trembling as he picks up the pace, his thumb circling your clit with expert pressure. he kisses your thigh, murmuring praises between each stroke���how beautiful you look, how tight and perfect you feel, how he could stay between your legs forever.

when your climax crashes into you, it’s sudden and overwhelming. Your walls clench around his fingers as you cry out, your hips jerking and your thighs trembling. he doesn’t stop until he’s milked every last spasm from your body, until you’re panting and spent and completely undone beneath him.

“shit… that was so hot,” he says, his voice low, lips brushing against your cheek as he slowly withdraws his fingers. you catch his gaze and, feeling bold, you take his hand and pull his glistening fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean while holding eye contact.

soobin lets out a broken sound—half-moan, half-growl—as he crashes his lips to yours again, desperate, messy. he pulls you into his lap, settling you on top of him, both of you half-naked and feverish with want.

your body is still humming, trembling in the aftershocks of your climax when soobin kisses you again—hungry, desperate, like he’s chasing something deeper. his hands don’t leave your body, fingers tracing over your hips, up your stomach, down between your thighs again.

you whimper when he strokes you, still sensitive, but the way he looks at you—so enamored, so lost in you—makes the overstimulation morph into pleasure all over again.

“you can take it,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses along your jaw. “you’re so fucking perfect like this… i need to feel you again.”

he doesn’t wait for an answer. his fingers glide between your folds, spreading the wetness he’s already coaxed from you. he groans low, almost a growl, as he guides himself to your entrance, teasing you just enough to make you whine.

then he pushes in, slow but deep, stretching you inch by inch.

a gasp leaves your lips as he bottoms out, your body molding to fit him. he shudders against you, his arms wrapping around you tight like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“fuck—” his breath stutters. “you feel so good, baby… so fucking good.”

he starts moving, slow at first—rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, savoring the way your body clenches around him. His forehead rests against yours, and when you open your eyes, you find him staring at you like you’re something sacred.

that’s when his voice breaks.

“i love you,” he confesses, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. “god, i love you so much it hurts.”

tears spill from his eyes, slipping down his cheeks before he can stop them. the rawness in his voice, the vulnerability in his touch—it makes your chest ache.

you don’t answer with words. instead, you hold his face, kissing his tears away, soothing him with soft whispers, with the warmth of your body moving in time with his.

then you shift, pushing gently on his shoulders, guiding him onto his back. he lets you take control, his lips parted in awe as you settle on top of him, sinking down onto him so slowly that he swears under his breath.

“fuck—” he gasps, head tipping back against the pillow.

you start moving, rolling your hips, riding him at your own pace, watching the way his brows knit together, how his hands grip your thighs, his lips falling open in pleasure. he looks wrecked beneath you, completely at your mercy.

“you’re such a good man, soobin,” you whisper, leaning down to press kisses along his damp cheeks. “you don’t have to hide from me. i see you… and i want you. just as you are.”

a broken sound leaves him—half-whimper, half-sob—as his hands slide up your back, pulling you closer. you keep moving, slow and deep, letting him feel everything.

his hips stutter under you, his breathing turning erratic.

“baby, i—” he cuts off with a strangled moan, his body tensing beneath you. “i can’t— i’m gonna—”

“cum with me” you whisper, kissing him deep as his release overtakes him.

soobin lets out a wrecked, breathless moan, his whole body shaking as he spills inside you. sis hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he rides out his high. his chest rises and falls in heavy gasps, eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed and undone.

even as the tremors subside, the tears don’t stop. you brush them away with gentle fingers, pressing soft kisses over his damp cheeks, his forehead, his lips.

“you’re okay,” you murmur. “i’ve got you.”

he exhales shakily, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you against his chest, still buried inside you, still trembling. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you—like you’re his anchor, his salvation.

and you let him.

because even though you didn’t say it back, he knows.

he feels it in the way you kiss him. in the way you hold him. in the way you don’t let go.

and for now, that’s enough.

he stops, just for a second, forehead pressed to yours, his breath shaky and shallow.

“i love you,” he says, barely louder than a whisper, but it hits like thunder.

you freeze, just for a moment. your heart skips, your lips part—but you don’t say it back. not yet. instead, you kiss him. slow, deep, tender. you pour everything into that kiss—every spark, every silent yes, every beat of your heart screaming me too.

he exhales like it’s all he needed. you hold his face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, and whisper, “you’re everything right now.”

he nods, tears brimming in his eyes.

and for the rest of the night, you show him. again and again, in every touch, every breath, every moan—you show him exactly what he means to you.

it’s more than just affection.

[jeongin-lvr]

Soobin whos big cock stretches you out every night because he’s so addicted to your pussy. like, genuinely can’t get enough. he’ll switch between fucking you in a mating press to eating his own cum out of your lovely, fluttering hole. all the while you mewl his name sleepily because you’ve cum more times than you can count; he doesn’t care, though. he’s enraptured by your pussy. he takes his frustrations out on your holes, he pours all his love out while fucking you, he spells his name on your clit just because he wants to taste you one last time before heading to bed. by the end of the night you’re sore, aching thighs wrapped around his as he kisses you to make it better... though, that might get him hard again

THUS END ME

I fucking love big cock Soobin 😖 it’s way too real tbh listened to sad girl by lana while making this felt whore-ish cw. heavyyyy overstim, soobin is described as bigger than reader.

You’re panting, losing focus on the man above you because he just won’t stop— won’t stop filling you up again and again. And it’s not like you even had the energy to fight back. You’re aching, leaking, sweaty, dewy-eyed. He’s relentless, making you take every stinging inch. You know it’s cliche, a whole trope, but you can feel him in your stomach. In fact, Soobin had the flattened palm of his hand pressed hard against the big tummy bulge you had. You quite literally could feel him all the way in there, thick, long cock rubbing quickly against your inner walls. The wet squelch of your full and spent hole filling the air rapidly, coinciding with your heated moans and whines.

Your hands clawed at his chest, back arching even further than it already was, begging to be brought back down to reality. You felt floaty, head full of air. “S-Soobin— Soob… too much, t-too muchhh—“

Soobin groaned, pressing your thighs up until your knees were right beside your head, shaking legs from repeated orgasm after orgasm. Every single climax ripped from your body in pure ecstasy. Filling your mind with only mumbles of words and the need for more, more, more. Even when your body was so tired, aching for less, begging for a relief, all you needed was more of him. Soobin then planted his hand right beside your head, bigger body contorting and meshing into yours, keeping you under his weight from moving at all. Any squirming you did was ignored, his hips only increasing in speed with wet, nasty slaps of skin.

“No, no, no… fuck, baby,” Soobin’s breath caught in his throat as he spoke, a choked out whine escaping as his fluffy, black hair fell in front of his eyes, then back as he tilted his head backward. His eyebrows were scrunched together, touching as his pouty lips parted, “Need you to take it… y-you gotta take it—“ He was panting like a dog, hovering over you with shaky arms. If anything, he was just as much a wreck as you were at this point. His big hand scooped up the side of your face, cooing at you as wet sounds emitted from your bodies, lips a breath away, “For me, baby, do it f-for me.”

His thumb ran over your skin, sending heat up your cheeks and a stray tear to slip out of your eye, graciously dewing his skin.

“Love your lil’ pussy, honey,” Soobin scrunched his face for the umpteenth time, “Know you can take it… s’tight.”

You mewled, though nodding. You take everything he gives you, even if it was overwhelming. If anything, that’s the best part, isn’t it? That big cock of his felt so fucking good, nearly intoxicating. You both went through this ordeal practically every night and it was pure heaven.

His thumb caressed your cheek, using that same tear you’d so graciously gifted him as a form of lube as his thumb crawled down to your swollen, fat clit. You jerked as he thumbed the lil love bud, a sputtering moan falling from your lips. Soobin’s thrusts were sloppy, each little sound he made reminding you of how good he was feeling, how not only you were feeling pleasure. Not that it wasn’t obvious with the way he spoke to you and handled you. So delicate, gentle, yet at the same time dominate and strong.

“My baby, my cute fucking girl…” Soobin moaned again, you can tell by the breathlessness of his voice that he was close again. Your pussy ached from being so full, his tip drilling endlessly against your womb, deeply pressing into that soft lil gummy spot. It had your eyes rolling into the back of your head, biting your lip to hide the stupidly loud sounds you wanted to let out, “Love you on my big cock, baby, look so p-pretty,” Confession spilled from open lips, slack jaw only widening as he tipped closer to a finish, “My baby loves when I breed her cunt, hm? One more, I promise…”

[healingpage]

Not made of glass - choi soobin

ꕥ pairing: choi soobin x afab reader

ꕥ genres: smut (basically pwp)

ꕥ warnings: soft!dom soobin to hard!dom, sub!reader, fingering, unprotected sex, big!dick soobin lol, oral m!receiving, so many petnames i melted, squirting, spanking

ꕥ wc: 2.9k

ꕥ a/n: the title is pretty much self-explanatory... my first smut for soobin! i want him so bad merry christmas to those celebrating!!

taglist: @hanhani29 @bloomngspring @hhoneyhan

A few months in since you started dating, Soobin is still ever the kind, composed and gentle boyfriend. Princess treatment is always on the maximum level, the reserved soft spot only for you that you can’t help but wonder sometimes how he is the same guy that can’t skip a day without getting into silly quarrels with Beomgyu. He takes you on a date at least every once in a while, knowing his hectic schedule you are more than grateful that he makes some time for you. His love language being act of service, you won’t have to lift a finger around him. Your friends call him a gentle giant, a nickname that makes you laugh every time you are reminded of it.

At the end of a date day, usually he would stay overnight at yours. You are doing your night routine by the vanity, onto the last part of your skincare when he creeps up behind your back, his arms finding their ways around your waist. His head rests on your left shoulders, lips attracted to your neck like how bees are to honey.

“God, I missed you so much,” his voice comes out much whinier than he thought. You put down your moisturiser on the table, turning around to face him. The wet hair that is evident from the earlier shower he had made his bangs droop down adorably, and sexy at the same time.

“Show me how bad then,” you say teasingly, the provocative smirk you give Soobin is enough to set him off as he lifts you from the ground, the placement of his hands on you careful to not hurt you in any way. Your giggles fill the entire room as he places you on the soft, silky sheets that you just changed this morning.

He leans in, his mouth hovering over yours as he mutters his words of love to you before your lips connect together. The ghostly touch of his hands on your shoulder first, slowly going down to your breasts making you gasp. You continue making out for a while before he lets go and cups your cheeks, giving a peck on your forehead. The intimate action gives you butterflies, watching him closely as he works around to undress himself. The eye contact is maintained, and it’s insanely hot you can’t help but blush seeing him.

“Like what you see babe?” he asks, completely aware of your flustered face. You reach out a hand to trace his toned muscle, his abs appearing even more prominent than the last time you saw them.

“Very. Looks so hot on you, oh my god—” your breath cuts short as he accidentally tugs the only thing left on your body, your bra to be exact, harder than he intends to as the fabric tears.

“Oh! Sorry baby, did I hurt you?”

Yes, he did. In fact, he ruined you. In the most sexy way possible. You stare at him closely, lips puckered as he tries to read your expression. When you say nothing, that’s when he inches closer, promising to buy you another, even ten sets of underwear if you would want him to. You chuckle lightly, both hands supporting his neck and pulling him closer.

“Soobin, I could care less about that. I like it,” you confess, his eyes soften. Without waiting for his reply, you flip him over. His length is already poking through, Soobin hisses when you touch him there, the feeling shoots him in like electricity when your soft hands contrast with the veiny muscle there.

“This hard for me?” you start with a kitten lick, his hand is flying to hold your hair in place for you, wrapping it nicely around his wrist like a ponytail. Always very attentive and gentle.

“Only for you, love,” he answers, lids drowsy as you start to take him down your throat. You’re long past caring about the drool that drips from your stretched lips to your sheets, Soobin coos at your state and mumbles a few praises as your mind overwhelms with the way his tip presses the back of your throat, the weight of one big hand never leaves stroking your hair.

Moments later, he finds you struggling with his length, eyes watery as you look at him, he can’t help but to anxiously remind you to take only what you can. Your hand that is placed on his thighs is gripping harder on it, yet you show no sign of tapping out like what both of you agreed on whenever any of you feels uncomfortable to continue.

“Y/n–” his own breath hitches, the feeling good to him as well, the urge to just push you further down on his cock blooming in his mind but he puts it aside as he looks at his darling, sweet girlfriend on the verge of tears.

“Love, you can stop now,” he incites, feeling bad for you. With all the constraints, you manage to shake your head, insisting that you can take much more. You relax your throat a bit, breathing through your nose as you push him in deeper. Soobin groans at the action, hips jerking and thrusting sloppily. You work your best to satisfy him, until he’s left a whiny mess, as he reaches his first orgasm of the night.

He’s humming softly, lost in his own world of pleasure while you fight to stifle your gag reflex, letting the liquid go down your throat before finally releasing him from your mouth. The drool that follows through as you backs away in search of proper breath is wiped away instantly by him, feeling bad as he strokes your cheek lovingly.

“Don’t push your limit if you can’t, baby, remember?”

You could only let out a smile, pulling him on top of you. “I have never not, Soobin. I promise I am okay,” you answer, his gaze on you feels a little too strong, so you continue, “It’s a good kind of hurt.”

“Really?”

“Uh uh. Now hurry,” you urge him, your puppy eyes paired with your pout instantly puts Soobin in position, in between your legs. He’s pushing your thighs apart, working his fingers delicately on your dripping core. You relax to his touch, responsive moans here and there fill Soobin’s ears. “So fucking wet…”

Soobin rarely swears around you, but whenever he does in bed it drives you nuts. The low voice of his, with a little bit of grunt on it and the fact that you're making him feel that way has you pooling down there.

“Am ready now, come on,” you whine out, almost running out of patience as he slowly works his fingers wonderfully inside your pulsing cunt. Soobin is far from stupid, especially in knowing how your body works, he knows it’s calling for something more. Something that only he can give you. You keep on squirming around, desperate for more friction than what he’s already giving you.

“Please—want you so bad, Binnie,” your voice comes out as weak, a high pitched moan follows after when he retracts his fingers.

“Shh, I know babe, just getting you prepared for me, don’t wanna hurt you, hmm?” he coos, spreading your legs further just so he can snug up in between comfortably. His length makes its way to your entrance, your joined moans breaking out as he gathers the slick to coat around it. The pleasure gives you goosebumps, finding anchor in his hand that holds on your thigh.

He finally pushes in his tip, his cock finally stretches you out. The sensation triggers him, watching closely how your walls are pulsing to let him in. Even though he was being gentle, nothing would help when you will never get used to his size. You could not even get a hold of it when a tear drop stains your cheek, his girth inside too overwhelming. His growing concern from earlier only expands, his thumb finger delicately brushes it off from you, pecking your lips after. “Baby…”

“No, I—ah,” you are cut off from one of his thrust, unknowingly hitting your sensitive spots, filling you to the hilt. “Feels so good, Soobin..”

As he sees you struggle and non stop squirming under him, he could not help but to feel bad, slowing his pace and rubbing the skin of your waist to ease you up to accept him. Your expression confused, quite dismayed at the slowing pace. He takes his time with you, stroking your messy hair, pecking every surface of your neckline yet you grow greedy and needier by time. With a desperate huff, you call out his name, he whispers a soft hum in your ear to ensure he’s listening.

“You don’t have to be that gentle with me, Soobin. I am not made of glass,” you say, eyes glistening with lust as Soobin cups both your cheeks

“Did I do something wrong? Do you not like how I act in bed?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” you reassure quickly, scooting him closer. You reach out and take his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You’re so gentle with me, Soobin. And I love that about you. You always make me feel safe. But...”

He tilted his head, lips pouting in focus, studying your expression. “But what?”

Your cheeks are warming, feeling intimidated by his stare. “Sometimes... I think you’re holding back. Like you’re scared of pushing too hard, saying too much, or being too... intense with me.”

Soobin blinks once, twice, his mouth parting slightly as if to respond, but no words come out. You almost melt at the sight, his perfectly shaped lips look very fluffy and inviting so you pull him down to you, giving a small kiss on his lips.

You massages his palm, your voice soft but resolute. “I want all of you, baby. The gentle side, the intense side, even the messy parts you think I am not capable of handling. I can take it. I want to take it.”

Soobin looks down at your intertwined hands, his thumb now tracing over the smaller yours. “I guess... I'm afraid of hurting you. You mean so much to me, baby. I didn’t want to risk being too much, I don’t ever wanna cause you pain.”

“You won’t,” you deny firmly, voice stern. “I trust you. And I want you to trust me to take whatever you’ve got. Don’t hold back on me anymore.”

For a moment, you both stay in silence, the weight of his body on top of yours never feels uncomfortable, or too much.

"Do you trust me?"

"Babes, if I didn't I wouldn't be here. I would run away once I set my eyes on your big cock," you jokingly say to ease the tension, his dimple appearing as he chuckles.

“Alright. No more holding back, I guess. You asked for it.” He sinks his face further in your chest, leaving a few marks of him there. Your heart flutters, a spark of excitement dancing in your chest. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

The rest is history, you can't quite describe the feeling of being ravished by him for the first time. It is amazing. You are too fucked out, too weak to do anything besides moan and writhe underneath him, letting him use you as he wishes, limits all thrown out of the window as he rams inside you aggressively. You are more like a living fuck doll to be filled with him and his seed only.

“You like that, baby? Y/n?” He repeats his hard thrust over and over, distant noise ringing in your ears, his large and veined hands gripping your hips and leaving bruises on the soft flesh. Your body has been decorated with hickeys and bite marks, your wrists bruising from when he held them earlier.

Soobin then reaches around with one hand, rubbing circles on your swollen and overstimulated clit, tears rolling down your cheeks at the added sensation. He only grins at that, loving your response to his touches as two of his fingers rub circles on your sensitive bud. “Gonna cum for me? Come on, show me how good of a girl you are.”

“Yes! So good— argh!” you scream out as you reach your high, your cunt tightening around his cock as he pauses his thrust, waiting for you to loosen up a little before continuing. You lay weak in his arms, sweat trickles down your neckline at the heat. As you catch your breath and the overstimulation passes, your trembling hands come up to his hair, tugging on it a bit.

“More, baby.”

He laughs at that, iris darkening as he looks at your state. Eager for more, although it seems like you are on the verge of tears by now.

“Aren't you an impatient little one?”

“Want you to use me,” you demand assertively, eyes wide and round. Your lips pursed a little, Soobin leans down to steal a quick peck there.

“My baby wants more? You can take it?”

“Yes, of course, I love you—oh fuck!” your voice gets louder as his fingers hovers around your bud, he’s pressing some friction on it so your hands that are on his hair grasp it harder. He chuckles at your desperate action, your legs trying to escape from the euphoric pleasure so bad he has to hold onto it. “Soobin! Oh my–god!”

Your legs start quivering so much, the build-up is insane, three of his fingers start moving inside your cunt uncontrollably, hitting all the right spots. You squeal as his skilled fingers continue making a mess of you, the sheets wet with your cream as you feel your high approaching quickly. Soobin watches you closely in amusement, your thrown back head, eyes rolled to the back, mouth open. You never look so beautiful, gorgeous, very stunning, he could not take his eyes off you.

“Love you too, y/n. So much, baby. Come for me, hmm? I got you,” his soft voice accompanies your loud whines. Beyond his expectation, he’s getting more than what he wanted. As the pleasure increases, you could not hold it in so you suddenly squirt all over him. Your surprising outcome that shocks even you makes you squeal, as you hold onto his shoulder for support. You have never even squirted before.

“Oh fuck, fuck, baby,” Soobin groans, collecting the liquid to smear it all over your aching pussy. “You just did that, for me?”

You are given not much time to recollect your thoughts when you are suddenly being wrapped around his arms, he’s setting you into another position. The touch on your hips are far from gentle as you are manhandled on all fours before him. Before you can complain, his tip is already inside, soon you are swallowing his whole length. Your eyes widen at the change of angle, much more intense than before.

“That was so hot, babe, damn, you want me to ruin you that bad? You like it when I’m fucking you rough?” he’s whispering in your ears, hand coming down to land a smack on your pretty flesh bare on his hips.

“Mmngh, oh! Sen—sensitive, oh please,” your weak hands wobbly in finding support on the sheets, grabbing whatever you can to stay arched for him.

He stays silent at your plea, ignoring it as the slapping skin of his against your increases in sound, his thrust fast and precise for his own release. Your drenched pussy makes nasty noises as his cock rams inside, sounding like music to his ears. "You can take it, come on, be a big girl," leaves his lips wheneve your legs almost give up, his big hands hold you up, not letting you go anywhere further than now.

“Look so cute, you want to be filled, sweetie?” he’s dirty talking now, your mind already going anywhere you find yourself nodding desperately. His cock twitches inside, forcing you to take the whole of him, his tip dangerously poking to your cervix by now. And god, does it feel so good.

“Yes, come in me please,” the honeyed voice of yours could never make him deny you, you are his baby after all, his length buried so deep inside you before his hips shake. The thrust is now shaky and unstable as his cum spills, warming your inside. “Argh, fucking take it!” Soobin grunts.

Immediately after he’s done, he’s pulling himself out, letting the combined release of yours leak. Carefully, he takes your waist, helping you to lay on your back, head pillowed by the softness of your plushie on the bed. You moan at the sight around your legs, his lips pressing kisses around your thighs, anywhere near your pussy but there to not let the oversensitivity overcome you. Your eyes then follow his movement, kneeling to scoot closer to you as he removes the hair strand from your face.

“Satisfied?”

“Never have been so before. Thank you, I love you,” you confess. His hands are now finding home on your back, wrapping you in a warm embrace.

“Love you more, baby. Did it hurt?” he’s asking, eyes wandering around your expression for honesty, afraid he has taken it too far. Your head shakes as you smile, convincing him that all is good. He lets out a sigh of relief, your night spent together while he takes care of you like always.

[adorehyyuka]

overstimulating soobin until he's a sobbing mess <3

nsfw link

[hyabbstay]

just a little bit - c.s.b. & c.y.j.

yeonjun x afab!reader x soobin

genre: smut (minors DO NOT INTERACT!)

content warning: porn without plot, threesome, afab!reader, jun and soob take turns, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (WRAP it before u tap it pLS) oral sex (m & f receiving), masturbation (m), voyeurism, lots of bodily fluids, sloppy seconds, pussy slapping, recording, choi soobin has a big dick, slight objectification, soobin calls reader a slut while yeonjun calls reader sweetheart LOL, lmao yeonjun is more romantic than soob here he might be a little in love, pussydrunk!soob, yeonbin bickering, sexual tension if you squint, probably forgot some just let me know, NOT PROOFREAD it's like 5am here and im tired

wc: 3.1k

song rec: just a little bit by kids of 88 (hello teen wolf fans!)

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer me, slut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Close friends that somehow ended up this way.

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

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

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

“Then cum.” 

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

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

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

Damn, you need both of them in you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck! S’big and so good, Soobin!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They should really set up a tripod next time.

Next time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeonjunnie,” you gasped, “c-cock…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s your answer.

[hynzsn]

💭 LOSER BF ★

☆ choi soobin x male reader 18+ MDNI

-> loser!soobin x supermodel!reader

꩜ .ᐟ smut, headcanons

contents: top!soobin x bottom!reader, big dick!soobin, slutty!reader, cockbrained!reader, cock size, rimming, oral fixation, edging, barebacking, oral, cum swallowing, dirty talk, praise and degradation, rough sex, kissing, moaning, overstimulation, belly bulge, voyeurism, mirror sex, anal fingering, anal sex, forehead kisses, handjob, aftercare, foreplay

a/n - i didn’t mean for this to be so long lmfaoo 😭 i literally had to take a minute and realize how much i was yapping away… and the way i would’ve written more too… big dick loser boyfriends for the win!!!

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

from the outside, it seems like you’re completely out of soobin’s league. you, a stunning supermodel, adored by millions, with your stunning looks and perfect body, the epitome of grace. then there’s soobin, with his shy demeanor and awkward charm. to the world, you’re the unattainable star, while soobin is just some lucky guy who somehow managed to capture your heart.

fans and followers constantly comment on how lucky soobin is, how they can’t believe someone as gorgeous as you is with him. there are endless discussions about what the hell you see in soobin, some assuming that it’s to make yourself look better while others assume there’s some hidden charm to soobin.

in interviews, you’re always asked about your relationship with soobin, with the interviewers always hinting at the disparity in your “league.” however, you always smile and talk about how much you love soobin despite the insinuations there.

you always drag him along to high-profile events, where you’re the center of attention, cameras flashing and people fawning over you. soobin always stays in the background, looking proud but out of place in the world of glitz and glamour.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

but behind closed doors, only soobin knows the truth about your relationship, how the dynamics change drastically. he knows how good he can make you feel with his pathetically large cock, turning you into his little cockbrained slut. in private, soobin holds all the power. he can make you feel things no one else can, reducing you to a moaning, desperate mess who lives and breathes for his cock.

soobin’s cock is easily over 8 inches long, closer to 9 on on his good days, with a thickness that stretches you out in the most deliciously obscene ways. its not just the length but the girth too - so thick that your fingers can barely wrap around it fully. the prominent vein running along the underside pulsing with soobin’s heartbeat, a tactile reminder to the power contained in his large cock. the head is broad and perfectly shaped, a deep, enticing pink that contrasts with the pale skin of his cock. when soobin is fully hard - and he always is whenever you’re around - his cock stands proudly, curving slightly upward.

when soobin’s inside of you, you can always feel every inch, every vein, every throb, stretching you to your limits and beyond. it’s a size that leaves you breathless every time, your body trembling with the effort to accommodate to such a magnificent intrusion. the way it fills you up, bottoming out with every thrust, makes you feel claimed, owned, and utterly satisfied.

during forpelay, soobin’s hands are always a bit shaky, his touch tentative as he explores your body. there’s an endearing uncertainty in the way soobin’s fingers trace over your skin, as if he’s in awe at the privilege of touching someone so perfect. soobin’s hands are gentle, almost reverent as they glide over your curves. he takes his time, savoring every inch of your body, his touch soft and affectionate. he loves to explore your body with his lips and fingertips, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle bites.

soobin’s eyes are always locked on yours, filled with adoration and desire. he loves watching your reactions, the way your eyes flutter shut or roll back when soobin hits the right spot.

even after countless nights together, soobin still blushes fiercely whenever you tease him or compliment his cock. his stuttering attempts at dirty talk often turn into breathless, mumbled confessions of how much he loves making you feel good.

in the privacy of your bedroom, you’re always on your knees, worshipping soobin’s cock with a fervor that belies your public persona. your eyes are always glazed with lust, your lips stretched around soobin’s length, and your hands trembling as you try to take soobin as deep as possible. soobin loves to see you like this, usually taking control of the situation. he guides your head, setting a rhythm that has you choking and drooling all over his cock.

you, who commands rooms and hearts with ease, becomes a pleasing mess for soobin. you beg to be filled up, to be stretched out by soobin’s large cock, your voice high and desperate. “please, soobin, i need you inside me,” you whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.

once soobin is inside you, you transform into a cock-drunk slut, your mind blissfully blank except for the overwhelming sensation of being filled to the brim. your eyes roll back, your mouth falls open, and incoherent moans spill from your lips as soobin thrusts into you with a ruthless rhythm.

when soobin finally let’s go of his inhibitions, his thrusts become rough and demanding. he loves to watch the way your body responds, the way your back arches and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. the bed shakes with a force of his movements, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

★ soobin’s kinks ★

barebacking: there’s something intensely intimate about the feel of your bare skin against his own. soobin loves the raw connection, the way he can feel every clench and flutter of your needy hole around his cock.

overstimulation: soobin takes a perverse pleasure in pushing you to your limits. he loves to watch your body shake and tremble, his cock still buried deep inside of you as he grinds out every last drop of pleasure. your cries of “too much,” only spur him on, knowing that you love every second of it. he knows exactly how to drive you wild, teasing you until you’re a trembling mess, begging for release. “is this what you wanted, y/n? to be my pretty little cockslut?” soobin murmurs, his voice low and commanding.

belly bulge: soobin is obsessed with the way his cock creates a visible bulge in your belly. he loves to press down on it, feeling himself through your skin as he watches your eyes roll back in bliss. it’s a visual reminder of how deeply he’s embedded in his lover, a sight that never fails to drive him wild.

praise and degradation: soobin gets off on the power of his words. he loves to shower you with praise, telling you how beautiful and perfect you are, especially when you’re writhing in pleasure. conversely, he also enjoys calling you his “pretty little slut,” or “cock-hungry whore,” the contrast driving both of you wild. the mix of tenderness and roughness is a potent aphrodisiac for him.

voyeurism: thought not always explicitly expressed, soobin had a hidden voyeuristic streak. he loves to watch you touch yourself, seeing the way your body responds to your own hands. the sight of you pleasuring yourself to the thought or sight of soobin, is intensely erotic.

rimming: soobin always ensures the environment is perfect - soft lighting, clean sheets, and a sense of privacy that allows you to fully immerse in the moment. he gently guides you to lie down, spreading your legs to give him full access. soobin starts with light, teasing touches, running his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh’s and ass. the soft caresses, making you shiver with anticipation, your body already responding to soobin’s expert touch. soobin’s tongue makes the first contact with your rim, a light tentative lick that sends a jolt of pleasure through your body. soobin loves the way you gasp and you arch your back, silently begging for more.

soobin’s licks become more deliberate and thorough, his tongue exploring every inch of your sensitive hole. he circles the rim, flicks his tongue against it, and presses in just enough to make you moan with need. your reactions fuel soobin’s desire. the soft moans, whimpers, and gasps that escape your lips are music to soobin’s ears. he knows exactly how to use his tongue to drive you wild, alternating between slow, sensual licks and rapid, teasing flicks. soobin’s hands aren’t idle during this act. one hand spreads your cheeks apart, giving him better access, while the other hand stroke your cock.

as your moans grow louder and more desperate, soobin increased the pressure and intensity of his tongue. he pushes his tongue deeper, lavishing attention on your needy hole, making sure every movement is filled with purpose and passion. your body only responds beautifully to soobin’s rimming. your hips start to move, pushing back against soobin’s mouth, seeking more of that incredible sensation.

sometimes, soobin adds to the sensation by slipping a finger into your hole alongside his tongue. the combination of his tongue and finger stretching and teasing your brings you to the brink of ecstasy. once soobin feels that you’re on the edge of ecstasy, he transitions from rimming to planting gentle kisses all over your ass and lower back.

mirror play: soobin loves taking you in front of a mirror, making both of you watch as you’re being filled and fucked. the visual of your expressions, the way soobin’s body moves, and how his huge cock disappears inside of you is such a huge turn on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

★ soobin’s favorite part of your body ★

soobin finds every part of your body captivating, you’re an absolute masterpiece in his eyes. but if he had to choose a favorite, it would undoubtedly be your lips. there’s something about them that mesmerizes him.

your lips are incredibly soft, a perfect blend of tenderness and sensuality. soobin loves the feeling of them against his own, the way they move with gentle, teasing caresses that make his heart race. your lips are incredibly expressive. whether they’re curved in a sly smile, parted in a gasp of pleasure, or pouting in a playful protest, they communicate a myriad of emotions that soobin finds irresistible. soobin can’t get enough of kissing you. he loves the way your lips, respond to his, the way they model together in a perfect dance of passion.

waking up to you, soobin’s first instinct is always to kiss you. whether you’re on the couch, in bed, or even sneaking a moment in public, soobin’s favorite way to show his affection is through deep, passionate makeout sessions.

oral fixation: there’s a special kind of pleasure that soobin finds in watching you use your lips and moth during sex. kissing down his body, pleading and begging for him, or taking his cock into your mouth, your lips drive him absolutely insane. soobin often finds his hands drifting to your lips. the way they part under his touch, how they feel soft and pilant underneath his fingers. sometimes when your moans grow too loud, soobin gently pressed his fingers to your lips, silencing you with a soft but commanding touch. the sight of your lips wrapped around his fingers, the way your tongue flicks against his skin, is incredibly sexy for soobin.

sometimes, words aren’t necessary. a simple kiss from you can convey more than a thousand words - a promise of love, a reassurance, or an unspoken desire. soobin cherishes these silent conversations, finding comfort and connection in the language of their lips. on days when soobin feels stressed or overwhelmed, your kisses have a healing power. the gentle press of your lips against his forehead is likes soothing balm, washing away the tension and worries that weigh him down.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

★ soobin’s favorite place to cum ★

is inside of your mouth. the warmth, the softness and the way you look up at him with adoring eyes as you take soobin inside of your mouth, swallowing every drop of his cum, the way your lips glisten with his cum after he pulls out, when you lick your lips with a satisfied look on your face, it’s all like a drug to him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

after your intense sessions, soobin always holds you close, whispering sweet nothings and stroking your hair. you cling to soobin, feeling safe and cherished, completely satisfied and throughly used.

you wear soobin’s marks with pride, hidden beneath your designer clothes. bruises, love bites, and the occasional handprint are all reminders of who you truly belong to, symbols of the nights spent being fucked by your loser boyfriend.

when you’re out in public, you and soobin share secret smiles and knowing glances. no one else knows the truth of your relationship, the depth of your connection, and the intense pleasure you share. It’s your private world, a hidden paradise where your true desires are fulfilled by the only person who truly understands you.

[soobinspet]

Blond soobin (my weakness lol) getting hard in the middle of the night….

He’s been hard for maybe 2 hours at this point but he just can’t bring himself to wake you, wishing not to bother you considering that it’s almost 3 in the morning. But fighting the urge to fuck you is getting tiring and Soobin’s almost choking on his own saliva when he feels your ass getting dangerously close to him. It’s not unusual for you to sleep close to him and he usually loves it but right now he just wishes you could sleep as far away from him as possible. Maybe on the couch in the living room or even on the floor of your bedroom but just not that close. He hates himself for thinking like that right now but it’s just too much. Too much that it almost hurts. So he gives in. He gives in and slides his boxer mid thighs , sighing at the feeling of his suffering tip finally hitting his lower stomach, fresh air making him shiver. He brings his other hand to his mouth and quietly spit in his palm to finally give his aching cock the relief it needs: something hot, wet and tight. He obviously knows nothing can compare to the sensation of your sweet pussy. Pussy he loves so much. But right now it will do the work.

He wraps his now wet hand around the base of his cock then slowly starts sliding it up and down his length. Soobin quickly fastens the pace of his hand, pretty confident in the fact that the wet sounds of him jerking off will not wake you up.

He bites the knuckles of his right hand, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Anytime the sounds get a little too loud, he stops for a few seconds, hoping you didn’t hear him.

He yelps in surprise maybe even fear when he sees you propped up on your elbow staring at him. He’s glad the room is dark enough to not be able to see the look on your face. He’s so ashamed and embarrassed that he immediately apologises for waking you up.

“I’ve been up since you started baby, now come here so I can properly make you feel good”