other plans of fate | oh. sm
neighbor!o.de x yoga instructor!reader
genre: romance, smut, neighbors to lovers, slice of life, slight comedy, contemporary au — wc: 7k
warnings: ADULTS ONLY. MINORS DNI. explicit sexual content, masturbation, friends-with-benefits discussion, explicit language, body worship, o.de is a gym rat ofc, (reader is a bit of a pervert)
synopsis: the initial plan was simple: you moved to this quiet city to teach yoga and build a peaceful life. fate, however, had another plan: accidentally hit your ridiculously attractive, gym-obsessed neighbor with your yoga mat.
a/n: had a fun time making this one, it's pretty light-toned overall. as always, any interaction is appreciated !! and thank you for giving my story a chance ♡
! disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. all portrayals are fictional and do not reflect the artists irl.
The city was clean, comforting, and beautiful—in other words…it’s boring. The kind of place where a weekend sale would be considered as a big event. There were a few flower shops, yoga studios, and fancy bookstores just because the older residents had money.
And then there were you; after a prompt offering, you’d moved to this city with nothing but two suitcases, a certification, and a dream. You thought it would be temporary, the yoga studio needed an instructor, and the rent was pretty manageable for someone in your tax bracket.
An early evening vinyasa was your fourth class this month, and you’d begun to get the hang of it. You looked around the room. As always, the class always consisted of a few older women, once or twice there were middle-aged men accompanying their wives. At first, they had doubts, the look on their faces vaguely told her ‘Is she legit?’ considering how young and new you looked.
However, once class started, you were in the zone. Your instructions sounded clear, firm, and oozed confidence. You deliberately adjusted people’s posture, reminding them to breathe. You weren’t too serious either, cracking small jokes every now and then whenever someone lost their balance.
By the end of the class, a woman came over to you, “You’re new here, aren’t you?” Which you nodded in reply.
She then said with the same kind smile, “Well, I hope you’re staying.”
Oh, maybe I could actually build a life here. You thought.
The walk home was quite a bit of a struggle. After a few nights of instant noodles, you finally made time to do some grocery shoppings. Under your arms there were two grocery bags, a carton of eggs, a plastic bag of carbonated drinks, two loaves of bread, and your yoga mat clinging loosely on your bag. You didn’t realise how narrow the hallway was until you finally carried lots of weight.
As you were struggling with your apartment door, suddenly…
WHACK—!
You felt your body get twisted, you pushed all of your groceries forward, pining them between your body and the door. Thankfully, nothing had fallen. You realized the cause was your yoga mat, smacking your neighbor on the chest as he stepped out of his unit.
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry!” You looked up from the corner of your eye, still protecting all the raw ingredients on hand.
The neighbor was taller than you had expected because you actually had to make an effort to look at his eyes. He’s unfairly pretty with a sharp, elegant face. And his body…(you‘re an instructor you can say a thing or two about his body) was so annoyingly lean, but toned. The kind you knew he’d spent some time taking care of.
“Careful there, beautiful.” Was the only thing he said. He walked past, didn’t even ask whether you needed a hand.
Keys were dangling from behind his pocket: 6B.
You looked forward to the sticker stuck on your door: 6A.
Great. First week in the city and my (hot) neighbor is a stuck-up flirt.
When you finally managed to get in, you tidied up your groceries. Putting some inside your fridge and the rest of them inside your kitchen cabinets. Once done, you lit up your rose candle and sat down at your desk. With your laptop opened, you started reviewing your schedule.
Your weekly timetable filled the screen, class scattered across the days, some online, some offline at the studio, with blocks of free time in between. You started putting your personal schedule there: working out was the first one you put, followed with practice, eyelash appointment, and more practices.
The yoga studio you worked in was on the 2nd floor of a gym. You never were a gym girl yourself, but employees got a free membership so it’d be a waste not to use it at all. Moreover, you could use a bit of strength training rather than solely relying on your barbells.
You’d almost made it to the end of the month when a Facetime notification popped up on your screen.
Facetime – Lily
“Hey, wait a sec,” you said after you picked up.
Her face appeared on the corner of your screen, “Heyyy!”
You continued what you’re doing, typing in a few more practices and groceries on your schedule. “There. Finished.”
You closed the app and put her on full screen, “What’s up?”
“Nothing much, really. I just finished this book–” she paused to take a sip from her cup of tea, “–but the book club was not having it…” You nodded at every word.
Lily was your friend from university, you both had a dream to build a career on your own, she chose books, you chose yoga. And this was the first time. in weeks you finally got a chance to talk to her.
“So I had to pretend, slightly, to retain them–whatever. How are you?” Lily asked.
“Doing okay…” you shortly answered.
She furrowed her brows at your silence, taking another sip of her tea. “...And?”
You threw your hands in the air, not knowing what else to say. “Lily I told you it’s boring here…you would’ve loved it!”
Lily rolled her eyes at your reply before throwing punches. “I am not boring! But the amount of old people, bookshops, yeah…I think you’re totally in my zone.”
“Exactly…” You frowned then faked your tears.
Laughter spilled between the both of you. Lily then proceeded to tell you what’s hot in your hometown. Apparently your ex has managed to bag the girl he once told you not to worry about. The year-end party? It was an absolute blast. The old man living in the corner of the street just passed away three days ago, the whole town was there for his funeral.
Those were the things you missed the most about your hometown. The fact that it’s far from boring.
“Try the dating app, what’re you waiting for?” Lily said.
“Lily, I’d ended up with 40 year olds. There’s close to zero young people here, and I haven’t seen one in–” Your words got cut off, as you drifted away to a recalled memory.
“In…?” Lily’s face got closer to the screen. “I knew you’re hiding something!” You buried yourself back on the sofa.
“Tell me, then!” Lily insisted.
“Okay, okay…” You gestured your hands up and down, telling her to calm down. “I think I have a hot neighbor.”
“Oh my God? How’s that not a good thing?”
“I–”
“You didn’t tell me!”
“I just saw him today, Lily…”
She narrowed her eyes, “Name?”
“I don’t know,” you shook your head slowly.
She gave you the most unimpressed look imaginable. “Job?”
You shrugged, “Don’t know.” Lily let out a groan, loud enough for you to pull out your headphones.
“Well, go accidentally bump into him again, then.”
You stared at her through the screen long enough to make sure whether she’s serious. Her eager eyes told you she was indeed not joking.
“No?”
She groaned again, less power this time, “You’re impossible,”
You laughed, shaking your head, "You know what? Maybe I’ll just take your dating app suggestion.”
Lily’s eyes grew wider, “Okay, good! I–”
“Goodbyeee!”
Before she threw another lecture at you about how to optimize your dating profile, you hung up. She wouldn’t mind, you’d done this plenty of times, and she’d just text you later giving you her full on guide.
You looked around your half-unpacked room, there were still three unopened boxes. Your dining chair currently served as both a nightstand and a laundry rack. Which was why you used your sofa for almost everything else.
Your phone buzzed not long after.
lily: the bali pics, and the selfie from my birthday.
You made sure you read her message, and downloaded the app. Setting up the profile was pretty straightforward. Lily had sent you exactly the photos that she meant, all HD. You added your age, occupation, and a quick bio that said you’re new in town. Then you hit ‘done’ before overthinking could take over your mind.
The swiping started almost immediately, you really took it slow. Left, left, another left, and a couple of rights: one office worker and one fisherman. Your thumb moved on autopilot while you lounge on your couch, the city outside had gone even more quiet as the sky went pitch black.
It’s a small city; didn’t take long until his profile popped up.
O.de, 24
There’s a little jolt in your stomach. You recognized the figure instantly: the intense gaze, sharp jawline, and the same annoyingly perfect body your yoga mat had bumped onto earlier. Only this time, it was bare. His black tank only covered the top part of his chest.
In short, his profile was the definition of pure thirst. You swiped to the next picture once you realize you’d stare too long at the first one. The second image was of him, face more recognizable now, flexing his biceps. It was clearly a gym pic…that you knew quite well. Because you went there almost everyday for work.
You clicked your tongue, of course. His bio literally stated that: Gym, good food, and your professional pain reliever.
Gagged.
Like literally, and not in a good way. Yet you still stared at his profile longer than you should. This O.de guy was hot in a dangerous kind of way, far from effortless, but not too much ‘till the point that you’re willing to drop him immediately. Especially not when every day you’d been seeing only middle aged men and women.
Your cheeks felt warm, you swiped again to the next pic: another shirtless mirror pic, towel slung loosely around his hips, those abs glistening, morphed down into the perfect v-line that disappeared beneath his gray sweatpants.
Well is it wrong? You’re painfully single, alone, and haven’t got any action since you left your boyfriend months ago. The apartment is small, but enough to cover your whimper sounds…right?
You’re still lying on your bed, phone in hand, heart beating a little too fast. The guilt was already boiling at the back of your mind, but the ache between your legs won. You slowly slid your hand down into your panties. Your fingers brushed over your slit, teasing lightly at first, then parting your folds. You were already getting wet just from looking at him.
A soft sigh left your lips as you circled your clit with two fingers, letting the warmth build. You kept staring at his face on the screen, imagining him touching you instead. You dipped a finger inside yourself, then two, curling them inside.
Wet sounds started to fill the quiet room as you pumped your fingers in and out, hips rolling lazily into your hand. The pleasure climbed quickly, your thighs tensing, little whimpers slipping out as you got closer to your release.
When you did reach your high, guilt took you over completely. You pulled your hand out, breathing hard, face burning with embarrassment even though you were completely alone.
His profile picture was still right there on your screen, abs staring back at you. You decided to swipe left anyway, aggressively tossing his image off the screen. Another random guy replaced him instantly.
Sorry, neighbor…
You closed the app completely, tossing your phone onto the bedside table. If you’d swipe right and it wasn’t a match, he’d be the death of you. Let’s just hope you never actually meet him again.
You blew your rose-smelling candle off. Let’s just forget this ever happened.
☼ ☼
The following work day started as usual; the studio was filling up slowly, middle-aged women settling into their mats as you greeted them. You had worked long enough for you to recognize the regulars.
Right before you started your lesson, a man entered the room. He laid out his mat on the far corner, clearly not one of your regular comers. He’s dressed in black shorts and a black fitted top. It was your neighbor, the dating app guy, the one you—nevermind.
It wasn’t only you who recognized this odd-man-out. Some of these older women were eyeing him up and down. He smiled at them, politely bowed to the woman next to him. Then his eyes landed at you, your stomach dropped. His mouth curved into a smirk.
You snapped yourself back to reality, “So, for today’s class, we’ll be doing Hatha yoga,” you glanced toward the back, he’s listening attentively. “We’ll be moving at a slower speed, I’ll show you the pose, then the modification after.”
“Okay,” you stood into position, “ladies and…gentleman, let’s begin by finding a comfortable seated position–”
The class moved slowly through the practice. You guided them through each pose, allowing everyone time to settle into their alignment before moving on.
“Lengthen through your spine,” you instructed, walking around the room. “Drop your shoulders.”
You passed by him, his shoulders were far from relaxed. You placed both hands on them, pressing them down lightly. “Relax your shoulders,” You said, before you moved your hand lower, indicating the length of his spine.
O.de knew he wasn’t good at this. He went to the gym, yes, daily. He knew how to use his body and how to push it to its limit, but yoga was a completely new territory. When your hand touched his back, his entire body went rigid.
You repeated your words, telling him to relax. How the fuck was he supposed to relax when those dainty fingers were sending shivers beneath his skin? He clenched his jaw, hoping you hadn’t noticed.
This was an instructor correcting his posture. That’s literally all this was. His mind shouldn’t drift elsewhere.
He’d waited long enough for your hand to leave his skin, but it managed to find more surface to touch.
“Keep your core engaged,” your fingertips brushed his abs.
“Don’t hold your breath,” your voice was suddenly close, warm against the side of his neck. All he could do was swallow.
You stepped around him until you were standing in front of his mat. “You’re barely breathing,” a slight concern in your eyes.
This was embarrassing.
He should’ve been able to handle a woman touching his back without completely forgetting how to breathe. Yoga was just hard, he thought to himself. He wasn’t a hirny teenage boy but something on the air today made him feel so.
“You’re making me nervous,” he finally said. Your expression went blank, immediately stepping back. He felt the warmth of your hand slipping away from his skin.
“J-just focus on your posture,” you said, turning away to find someone else to focus on.
O.de could finally let himself breathe. He looked down.
Okay, great. No boner.
His eyes then traveled further down to his legs, and he realized he had completely forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. He’d come here because he wanted to try something new. And, honestly, also, because his boss mentioned that the new yoga instructor here was hot and looked his age.
He just hadn’t expected the instructor to be you, the same woman who’d rejected him on a dating app—his next door neighbor.
By the time the class ended, you never wanted to go home as quickly as you could. Everyone started gathering their belongings, rolling up their mats, and making their way out of the door. You stayed behind to tidy up the studio, keeping them proper for the next class.
The studio was filled with mirrors, so when you heard footsteps approaching, you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The only man in the room. Black clothes. Black yoga mat. A gym bag hanging loosely from one shoulder.
You watched his reflection draw closer. “Hey!” You tried to sound surprised.
He stopped in front of you, his mat tucked beneath one arm. “Hi, yeah, if you don’t mind me asking…” He paused, then continued once he saw you shook your head, “I was wondering if you could tell me how I did today?”
He squinted slightly, like he was taking the question very seriously.
You gestured around vaguely, “You…you don’t seem like a yoga person,” you finally said.
“I wanted to try something new,” he shrugged.
You squinted, “Hm? The gym isn’t challenging enough?”
He gave you an amused smile, like he was surprised you’d noticed. “Wow, you’re quite observant.” His tone was almost sarcastic.
“Yeah, you literally had a gym bag.” You pointed to his slouchy bag hanging from his shoulder.
He glanced down to the bag beside him, nodded slowly then laid his eyes back at you.
“Is this why you swiped left?”
For a moment, you weren’t sure you’d heard him correctly. You could feel your breath hitched, not sure how to proceed with this. There was no one in the room now, and suddenly all these mirrors duplicating both of your figures over and over again felt dizzying.
He was still standing there, looking all innocent. “You’re not into gym guys?”
You rolled your eyes and let out a laugh, “Oh, please. I know what you are.” You picked up your own mat, refusing to look at him, turning off the AC before you headed toward the door.
O.de seemed offended at your words, “Do you?”
He followed you down through the rows of stairs. Downstairs, the clanking of gym equipment grew louder. It didn’t take much effort for him to catch up with you.
“You’re exactly the kind of guy I should stay away from.” You said again once he’s just a step behind you.
“That’s…harsh,” he simply said. His eyes followed our movements as you put in your mat inside the locker room.
You settled yourself in front of the mirror. Apparently he’d shoved his belongings to the corner of the locker room. Now following you as you did warm ups in front of the mirror.
“I’m not trying to get myself into…one of your traps.” You said to him through the mirror, despite him standing beside you.
“Traps?” He followed your gestures, warming up as well, hands on hip, rolling your ankles.
“The flirting? The whole–” You waved to his reflection, “you.”
He laughed, “For asking how I did today in class?”
When you thought about it again, yes that sounded ridiculous. But deep down in your heart you know exactly what he’s doing, and it’s painfully irritating that he’s still here.
“Okay, yoga?” You finally turned toward him, he nodded playfully. “You need a whole lot of work.”
There was a brief pause in the conversation as you walked around, trying to find an unused machine. You stopped walking, recognizing one as a hip abductor. You could feel him stopping behind you, too.
“Sweet.” He said. “Do you open for private?”
Slowly, you turned around. He was grinning, visibly holding back his laugh, and you could only stare at him for a second. His laugh finally escaped, and you rolled your eyes, deciding that if you acknowledged him any further, you’d only encourage him.
Instead, you turned toward the machine. You read the diagrams attached to it, trying to understand how it worked, then discreetly watching the person using the machine beside you, then back at the machine. Basically, refusing to look at him.
Yet, you could feel him watching. You adjusted the setting, nothing happened. You were so determined not to look at him, but your whole gesture screamed for help. Your eyes eventually betrayed you.
“…How do you use it?”
You hated yourself.
His smirk then returned, “I teach you how, and you give me a private lesson.”
You shot him with a glare, “Don’t make me change my mind.”
He laughed and finally walked over. “This one’s for your inner thighs.” He adjusted the settings for you before gesturing toward the seat. “Sit here,”
You followed his instructions, settling yourself down properly this time. He crouched beside you, explaining thoroughly how the machine worked, and you tried very hard…you really did…to pay attention to what he was saying.
“Now, push your legs together.”
You did. The resistance caught you by surprise. It was heavier than you thought to hold the weight, and the weights slammed together with a loud clank as you released.
“Slowly…” he said, his tone amused.
You glared at him before looking straight ahead at your reflection in the mirror. You focused on the movement, pushing your legs together again, slower this time. The muscles in your thighs were already starting to burn.
“That’s it,” he said.
Oh, the irony.
Earlier, he’d been the one struggling during your class. Now the tables had turned. You were the one sitting helplessly in a machine you didn’t understand, while he stood behind you like he’d been born in a gym.
“Your back is coming off the pad.” You felt the warmth of his hand before you saw his reflection.
You straightened immediately. His fingers settled against your right shoulder, steadying it as he watched your form.
You pushed your legs together.
“Good.” He said.
Your stomach flipped. It was just one word, a compliment about your form. So why did his voice sound so soft? You tried to gain your composure, not going to think about the fact that his hand was still resting against your shoulder. You were definitely not going to think about the fact that this was the same man whose dating profile you’d spent far too much time staring at.
You released the weight.
“Nice. One more.” You glanced at his reflection. He was smiling, looking way too pleased with himself.
You pushed your legs together again. “That’s it.” His hand shifted slightly against your shoulder. You held.
“Good. And relax.”
Once you’re done, you sat there for a second, breathing heavily. Then you stood up far too quickly, your leg nearly caught on the machine.
“Whoa! Steady.” His hands immediately reached out to you, one hovering near your arm. “You okay?”
You nodded, wiping the sweat from your forehead before reaching for your water bottle. “That–that was intense,” you said breathlessly, taking a long drink.
“You’re going to feel the burn here in a couple of days.” You looked to where he placed his fingers, painfully close to your inner thighs.
“Right.” You nodded. “You can be an instructor, too. You’re good.”
You sped up, walking toward the locker room.
“Yeah?” There was amusement in his voice. “Should I get certified?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
You grabbed your things, feeling you might turn crazy the longer you stayed with him. Once all of your belongings were in your hands, you started walking, sprinting, for the door.
“See you next week?” He said, raising his voice a little seeing how far you’d gone.
“Mmhm.” You nodded. “Sounds great.” You didn’t stop.
By the time you got home, you went straight for the shower, turning the water ice cold, letting it splashed your face. The sex scarcity was real. That was all. That was the explanation. You were lonely. You were new to the city. You hadn’t had sex in–
No.
You weren’t even going to finish that thought.
☼ ☼
It never occurred to you to wonder what O.de’s actual job was until he knocked on your door that evening, still wearing his uniform. Teal scrubs with his government name embroidered on it. The color was actually trendy nowadays, but somehow, on him, it looked completely out of place compared to his usual all black attire.
“Sir, it’s not Halloween. What are you supposed to be?” You asked, furrowing your brows.
He actually looked offended. His gaze dropped, wondering if there’s something wrong with his clothes. “I layered them, come on.”
You blew out your rose-scented candle, and stepped out of your unit with a water bottle in one hand, and your rolled up mat in the other. Both of you headed for the rooftop, where an empty communal space was available for residents to use freely. The evening breeze was comfortable enough for exercising.
Surprisingly? He was a much better student when taught privately. Clearly attentive, followed your instructions without too much complaint, the definition of a perfect student. Eventually, you knew the reason behind his knowledge of bodies and movement. The man was a physiotherapist; or as he insisted on calling it, a ‘sports rehabilitation therapist.’
By the time your little lesson ended, he was sweating like crazy. He collapsed onto the mat, sitting with his head tilted back as he stared up at the starry sky. You looked down at him with a smile. You could feel the burn in your own muscles, but this certainly wasn’t your first rodeo.
After some time, he then sat up, glancing at his watch. “Well, I think that’s it. Same time next week?”
You nodded, “Same time, next week.”
Somehow, he became your unofficial yoga companion. Whenever you had your own practice, or found yourself planning out the next class, he was there as your first client. At some point, he even started giving you suggestions, saying the class would probably enjoy it more if you made things less intense. You shut him down every single time.
The more time you spent with him, the more he started to make sense. He’s originally from the city, and had lived here his entire life. The apartment was simply somewhere convenient for him to crash whenever work got too busy and exhausting. He’s disciplined, routine-oriented, a text-book kind of ‘boring’.
“So you wake up early, go to the gym, work, then gym–”
“If I have the time,” he corrected it for you.
You ignored him, “–then sleep, repeat?”
He shrugged, “Yeah… That’s pretty much it.”
Your gaze traveled toward the sky as you thought about it, trying to make sense of something that clearly wasn’t adding up.
O.de noticed your expression, “What? What is it?”
“That doesn’t explain the thirst traps.” You finally said.
He blinked once, twice. You stared back at him. For once, he genuinely looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.
“Your profile…”
“Oh.”
You immediately regretted bringing it up.
“My friends made me do it.” He laughed under his breath, shaking his head, suddenly much more interested in the jelly in his hand.
You weren’t sure when exactly this had become a thing, but the small talk after practice had become part of your routine. Sometimes it was snacks, sometimes it was whatever random thing he’d picked up on his way home. Tonight, it was jelly.
“Those old men?” You asked. Yes, he’d told you they mentioned that you’re hot; that’s why he attended one of your classes.
He nodded, completely serious. “Apparently, I’m too boring.”
“Your friends are right,” you said, picking a jelly from his palm.
He stared at you in disbelief. He wasn’t exactly a saint, and had casual relationships before, but he wasn’t actively looking for a friends-with-benefits situation. He just truly hadn’t met anyone that he wanted to pursue.
“Let’s just say,” he continued, your attention was back to him, “you swiping left kind of took me by surprise.”
You blinked, “Why?”
He sighed, “When I saw your profile, I was really interested. The only person I swiped right.” His tone grew serious. “That’s why it’s a bummer.”
Your eyebrows lifted. He continued before you could say anything. “Then I also wanted to see if I could change your mind.”
You swallowed, suddenly very aware of the warmth creeping up your cheeks. Suddenly the sweet jelly made your throat feel dry.
That’s time.
If your cheeks were turning warm, and if his gaze went lower, lingering for just a second before finding its way back to your eyes–you had to look away, that was time.
“Well, it’s getting late,” you finally said.
Like always, you packed up your things and the two of you headed downstairs together. You parted ways at your doors, exchanging the same casual wave you always did before disappearing into your respective apartments.
You rarely saw him outside of these little rooftop sessions. He started work ridiculously early in the morning, long before you were awake. Aside from that one time you’d bumped into him in the hallway, you almost never bumped onto each other, which was probably for the best.
Tonight, the cold shower didn’t help, neither did the warm bath. You’d been lying on your bed, face-down, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to think about literally anything else than your hot neighbor.
Unfortunately, your imagination betrayed you the worst. You thought about the way he’d stood behind you, instructing you on how to use the workout machine. You thought about his fingers hovering on your inner thighs, and you thought about his gaze, trailing after every conversation.
“Fuck, not again.” You murmured.
Your fingers trembled slightly as they slipped beneath the waistband of your panties, the fabric already damp from the heat building between your thighs. You didn’t care that you’re going to need another shower, you need a release, now.
Two fingertips traced lightly over your soft mound, then lower. You circled your clit with a slow, controlled, pressure, just enough to make your hips twitch upward. A soft sigh escaped you.
It felt too good already, you started imagining it’s O.de’s fingers instead–much larger, rougher. The fantasy made you bolder: you slid a finger between your folds, gathering your wetness, then dragged it back up to your clit in long, lazy strokes.
“Ahh…” you moaned.
You finally slipped two fingers inside, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the quiet room. You curled them upward, stroking that sensitive spot while your thumb kept working your clit in steady circles. You called his name under your breath thinking of his voice praising you, telling you how pretty you looked falling apart like this–
Knock, knock!
Your entire body froze. The sudden sound jolted through you, leaving your body throbbing of how close you’d been. Your fingers were still buried inside your soaked pussy, clit pulsing under your thumb, as a fresh wave of embarrassment flooded you.
The knock came again, knock, knock—!
Okay, it’s unmistakable now. You quickly pulled yourself together, trying to look as normal as possible. You yelled out, “Coming!” Which, by the way, you didn’t get to do.
You opened the door to find a view of absolute horror: O.de standing there with a completely unreadable expression. Mirroring you, his hair was also slightly damp, and he had changed into a clean shirt after the previous evening yoga session.
“You know the walls aren’t soundproof, right?” He said–asked–you’re not sure.
“I–” Your breath hitched.
He didn’t even let you finish, in one motion he closed the distance, cupping your face with both hands and crashing his lips against yours. His kiss was hungry, as if months of tension finally snapping. You gasped into it and he swallowed the sound, tongue sliding against yours as he walked you backward.
“Oh, I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he whispered against your lips.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, breathing hard. His thumb brushed your bottom lip. “You did that often?” he asked, “Pleasuring yourself thinking about me?”
Heat flooded your cheeks, this time you didn’t care anymore where your blood rushed to, and nodded. “Yeah…” Your hands greedily roamed his body, sliding under his shirt, tracing the lines of his abs, finally fulfilling what your mind’s deepest desire.
“You naughty girl,” he murmured, voice laced with lust. He caught your wrist, guiding your hand to palm the hard outline of his cock through his sweatpants.
“You know I didn’t really do this right?” He asked, motioning your hand to stroke him properly.
You nodded again, breathless. “Mhm…” You leaned in, licking slowly along his bottom lip, “Need you so bad,” you whispered desperately against his mouth.
He didn’t kiss you back immediately at first, just simply watching your desperation through his eyelashes. When he finally gave in, he groaned and kissed you deep, tongue sliding down your throat.
Soon enough, his hands were everywhere: gripping your hips, squeezing your breasts, then yanking your top off over your head. You moaned into his mouth as his thumbs brushed your sensitive nipples. He swallowed that sound too, kissing you harder.
“I–mmh…” He gave you a short kiss, “–told you it’s not soundproof.”
You stared at him for a few seconds before shaking your head, “I don’t care.” You kissed him again, tugging at his shirt frantically now.
He broke the kiss only long enough to pull it over his head and toss it aside, revealing the lean muscle you’d made the pinnacle of your fantasy. Then he was on you again, pushing you down onto the bed and crawling over you.
Your legs parted instinctively for him. He settled between them, grinding his hard cock against your soaked panties. The friction made you whimper, hips arching up to chase more.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered, sliding one hand down to tease your slit over the fabric.
He pushed your panties aside and sank two fingers into your glistening heat. You cried out, back arching. He curled them perfectly, stroking that spot you’d been teasing earlier. The size of his fingers alone made you full, better than your own, better than your toy.
“Must be so fucking pretty when you touch yourself,” he said, eyes locked on you. “But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”
You clawed at his shoulders, pulling him back down into a messy kiss as you grinded your hips to his palm. He pumped his fingers faster, matching the desperate rhythm of your tongue against his, until the pressure that you had been building earlier came crashing back.
“Ah—fuck!” You moaned. “I’m c-cumming,”
You came hard around his fingers with a broken moan, thighs shaking, nails digging into his back. He groaned at the feel of you pulsing, kissing you through it, swallowing every sound like he’d been starving for them. You couldn’t get enough of his kiss.
You were breathless when you opened your eyes, looking at O.de withdrawing his hand and bringing it between his lips. Licking, savoring them clean while keeping his gaze on you. There’s no view much hotter than this.
“I want you,” you breathed, reaching for him. “Please, Seungmin…”
The sound of his government name falling from your lips snapped something in him. He didn’t make you wait. He pushed your knees wider apart, then leaned back just enough to tug his sweatpants down–freeing his throbbing cock, the tip was already glistening.
He wrapped a hand around his length and dragged it over your soaked pussy, coating himself in your slick. He took his time, sliding the head up and down your squelching slit, at times bumping against your sensitive, swollen clit. The obscene sounds filled the room as he teased you.
“I want you to beg for this,” he whispered, voice low and commanding, an amused smirk appeared on his lips.
You whimpered, hips twitching every time he rubbed your clit. “I want it so bad–” you gasped, voice shaky with need.
“I want your cock in me. Please, Seungmin… I want you to fill me up.”
That was enough for him to line himself up, pressing the tip of his cock right against your aching entrance. Both of you moaned at the same time as he pushed it in, your pussy being played with twice made it easy for him to bottom out. He paused for a moment to adjust, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard. The walls of your pussy were still fluttering from your orgasm.
“You keep squeezing me like that… I’m not gonna last,” he groaned.
You pulled him into another kiss, “Mmmh… then move,” you whispered against his lips, rolling your hips up impatiently to take him deeper.
O.de cursed under his breath and finally started moving, pulling back just enough to drag along your sensitive walls before thrusting back in deeply. You arched your back sharply, a loud moan spilling out of you. “Oh, yes, Seungmin–!”
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, palming your breasts, fingers twirling your stiff nipples. “Your pussy’s so sweet… and these lips are so fucking filthy.”
He kissed you again, hard and hungry, swallowing your whimpers as he kept that steady rhythm. Your nails grazed down his back, clinging to him for leverage, leaving red trails on his skin.
Then he grabbed the back of your thigh and lifted one leg over his shoulder, folding you deeper. Years of yoga, you settled into the pose effortlessly. This new angle let him sink even further inside you, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your eyes rolled back as you cried out sharply.
“Ah–fuck! Yes, yes…”
You couldn’t think straight. Your free hand pressed against his toned stomach and hip, whatever’s between your reach, feeling his muscles flex with every snap of his hips.
“F-faster, please,” you begged, voice already breaking. You could feel tears ran down your cheeks.
O.de’s eyes darkened with lust. His pace picked up, pounding into you harder. “Fuck, you’re such a slut…” he growled, “-only for me, right?”
“Fuck yes, only for you,” you moaned obediently, nodding at your words.
He gave you a satisfied smirk. “Stick out your tongue for me.”
It felt strangely familiar, like one of his commanding instructions during gym sessions. You obeyed him anyway. From above, he’s still thrusting deep and steady, O.de leaned in and let a slow trail of spit drip from his mouth onto your tongue.
The warm, wet feeling saliva landed perfectly. You kept your eyes on him as you swallowed it down, a needy whimper escaping you.
O.de groaned at the filthy sight, hips snapping harder.
“Good,” Snap. “–fucking,” Snap. “–girl.”
You threw your head back, rolling your eyes when he pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. Before you could protest, he gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach.
“Bottom’s up, baby.” He tapped your side.
You obeyed instantly, arching your back and pressing your chest down into the mattress. Your ass lifted high for him, face buried in the sheets. He groaned at the sight, running his hands over the curve of your ass before spreading your thighs wider.
You could feel his own thighs flexed as he positioned himself behind you. The power in his legs was obvious with every small shift of his weight. “Fuck… look at you,” he murmured.
Honestly, this pose could be relaxing, if only a hard dick wasn’t being slammed at you. He didn’t give you time to adjust as his hips snapped forward. One of his hands pressed down on your lower back, making you arch even more for him. This new angle hit your insides even deeper than before.
“Oh my baby’s so well-trained,” he praised as he leaned over you, still thrusting deep. “So flexible taking my cock so fucking perfectly like this.”
You couldn’t handle it anymore, the tension in your core grew tighter and tighter with every deep, punishing thrust from him. Your leg trembled as you cried out. “Seungmin, fuck, I’m–”
“I can feel you,” he groaned, not slowing his pace even a little. “So tight… squeezing my cock so good. Let’s do it together, baby.”
His thrusts grew erratic, hips snapping hard against yours. “Ah–ah, fuck… I’m cumming…!”
Your walls clenched violently around him as pleasure exploded through your body. O.de flipped you around, clashing onto you as he kissed you desperately, swallowing each other’s sounds. The kiss was messy, perfect, tongues sliding as you rode out your orgasms together.
Warm liquid leaked around his cock and traveled down your thighs when he finally shifted. He pulled out slowly, kissed you once more, softer this time, before wrapping you in a tight hug, arms locked around your trembling body like he never wanted to let go. You had zero stamina left. No words. No breath. Just stars behind your eyelids as you stared dazedly at the ceiling, heart still pounding.
The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. He looked down at the mess between your legs, then at his clean shirt discarded on the floor. Without hesitation, he grabbed it, ran to the bathroom, and soaked it in warm water. He knew the layout of your apartment like his own, it’s the same type after all.
When he came back, he gently cleaned you up with careful strokes, then handed you a glass of water. “Here, drink first.”
You just did what he told you, and thanked him; too exhausted to give further response. The cool liquid felt heavenly on your raw throat. A few minutes later, you drifted off in his arms, passing out completely.
The next morning, you woke up alone in bed. Still, you felt happy; deeply fulfilled. A lazy smile spread across your face as you rolled around in the sheets, still smelling the trace of him on your bed. You reached for your phone on the bedside table and texted Lily.
You: i scored an fwb. the neighbor.
You put the phone on silent immediately. Lily’s curious naggings could wait.
After a long, hot shower, you stepped out in just an old t-shirt and shorts, patting your damp hair with a towel. A delicious smell greeted you from the kitchen.
O.de was there.
What the fuck?
He looked annoyingly put-together; black shirt, hair still slightly tousled, standing at the stove flipping (from the smell) a grilled cheese sandwich. As you walked closer, you noticed a beautiful bouquet of roses sat on the counter.
“Morning,” he said softly when he noticed you, a shy smile formed at the corner of his lips.
He turned off the heat, grabbed the bouquet, and held it out to you almost nervously, repeating his words, “Good morning.” You couldn’t help but smile as you took the flowers from his hand.
“You always smelled like roses,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “so I hoped you’d like them.”
You looked up into his eyes, heart fluttering. Nothing felt real anymore. “I love them…” you laughed softly, bringing the bouquet to your nose again and again. You had no idea he was that observant.
“I made breakfast. You must be hungry.” He said pointing to the pan.
“Starving,” you admitted, sitting on the bar stool, still hugging the flowers.
He slid a perfectly golden grilled cheese in front of you. While you ate, he cleaned up quietly. You couldn’t stop staring at him. Even from behind, there was something unfairly beautiful about him.
This is no friends-with-benefits, you thought. You’d have to update Lily later.
“So…” O.de started, leaning on the counter across from you while you shoved another bite of toast into your mouth. “Are you free tonight?” He looked hopeful, a little vulnerable waiting for your answer. “I want to take you to dinner–a proper one.”
☼ ☼
Most stories started with a first date. The anticipation, the careful getting-to-know-you before anything could happen. You had been neighbors, tutors, friends–with every kind of tension in between–before he officially asked you out.
So when O.de stood in your kitchen one morning, making you breakfast with a bouquet of red roses already in your hands, and then asked if you were free for dinner, you couldn’t help but say: Yes.
Most stories started with a first date. Yours ended with one.
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☼ made with love
— © BACKSTAGEKISS 2026. please don’t repost, copy, translate, or claim this work as your own.
