Summary: 2 Yeonjun, 2 Soobin, 2 Beomgyu, 2 Taehyun, & 4 Huening Kai, also added some multiple member fics for you all >< (3) | 90% of these are NSFW btw but it’s stated in my review wether it’s SFW or not :))
Choi Yeonjun 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🦊
Ghost girl smau | part one | masterlist - @soobinsoudesu | (romcom, supernatural) | SFW ! |Quite literally in love with this fic omgg! Finished it in one night 🤭 Scaredy cat Yeonjun has my heart | This was such a creative idea and had me on edge the whole time I was reading it 😭 poor Yeonjun though HAHAHAH | I also like how the slight romance blended into the plot instead of taking over 🫠
off day | @astrasng | NSFW (MDNI) | now THIS is how you write a short smut fic | as much as I love subby!jun, this writer makes me want to read more dom!jun fics…this was my awakening
Choi Soobin 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🐰
under the covers | @aweinkai | w/c: 4.1k | (smut, roommates, nonidol!au) | NSFW (MDNI) ! | this fic was so fun to read! Sub Soobin omg (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝). I think this is my awakening to read more fics like this !! So well written too hello?? And on top of all of that meandom!reader ??? Hell yes
spilled milk smau | part one | masterlist - @soobvns | (fluff, slightly suggestive/implied, coffee shop!au) | SFW! (Mostly unless you read the spinoff chapter MDNI)! | literally could not shut up about this series, def one of my favs of all time | The way Soobin’s character persona was written was just so Soobin 😭 | I also loved the way Kai was written soooo much !! Lowkey wish he was my best friend
Choi Beomgyu 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🐻
omegyu | @yawnzbf | short smau but SO good! | (suggestive) | NSFW (mostly MDNI) ! | this had me giggling | the setup was actually perfect and this is just so Beomgyu | reader being so desperate is so me for gyu ><
now live ! Stream : ended | @fairyofshampgyu | w/c: 16.4k | (pure smut, college au, camboy au, fluff, crack) | NSFW (MDNI) | ~ okay I’m going to be completely honest…this was the first fic I ever read on tumblr and I didn’t even know it was the last part of the series 😭 I think this is my sign to go read it start to finish because woah 😵💫 no but this was genuinely such a fun read and I enjoyed it smmm | also meandom!reader uhh yes please | masterlist (scroll down a bit)
Kang Taehyun 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🐿️
switch!taehyun | @lucidwntrr | w/c: 2.7k | (smut,established relationship) | NSFW !! (MDNI) ! | omg switch Taehyun 😵💫 and then him acting like he didn’t enjoy it just to later confess about it because of reader 🫠 perfection
Not my shirt again! | @tyunningism | w/c: 2.6K | (perv!Taehyun x roommate!reader) | NSFW !! (MDNI) | I enjoyed this fic soooo much | perv Taehyun will always be something that I enjoy to read | taehyun denying everything too while it’s kind of obvious oh myyy
Huening Kai 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🐧
Bed Bug | @starlami | w/c: 1.3k | (fluffy, fluff, more fluff) | SFW ! | this fic is probably the cutest one I’ve ever read. I could never pass on a good hyuka fluff fic (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
Super series | part one | masterlist - @soobvns | (superhero!hueningkai, roommates) so as of right now there’s only two parts out but…this is some gorgeous piece of writing and I want to praise it as much as I can because it deserves it 😭 was so excited for this series to start when I saw the first part was posted !
growing pains | @soobvns | (established relationship, pure smut) | NSFW (MDNI) | this fic 😵💫 as much as I love cutie Kai, meandom!kai will always have a secret place in my heart | perfectly written chefs kiss
Late Night Touch | @huekmoai | (smut) | NSFW (MDNI) | not much to say here because it’s quite short but ugh Kai 🫠 him acting innocent at the end too ><
Multiple Members 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖
Supermassive blackhole | @gyuzies | Choi Soobin x Kang Taehyun x Reader | w/c: 1.4k | (idol!Soobin x idol! Taehyun x idol!reader, established relationship, smut) | NSFW !! (MDNI) | oh. my. god. This fic was sooo good. Soobin choking reader with his biceps oh myyy (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝) | dom!taebin too ughhh | honestly I’m just a sucker for taebin in general. Put one of them in a fic I’ll read it. Put both in a fic and I’m sat.
Just keep watching | @gyuzies | Kang Taehyun x Reader x Beomgyu | (bf!Taehyun x gf!reader x roommate!Beomgyu, smut) | NSFW !! (MDNI) | wow. I’m literally at a loss for words this was so well written omg 😭 | the mxm action too!!?? | soooo good !!
Always ours | @cbeargyu | woah woah woah woah | I don’t know how some of you other writers manage to pull of writing these so perfectly 😵💫 | this was an insane read
Making this had me realize just how many Kai fics I read…I was going to add more recs except they’re ALL Kai 😭 maybe I should just make a whole post for Kai fic recs lol
I also tried not to repeat specific writers fics over and over because I don’t want to seem biased but some of them I can’t help it ><
I got inspired to make this post because I saw a similar post made and decided to give my own recs to the people who wanted them !!
Post inspired by : @buntanteen | their txt x reader fic recommendations
alpha!taehyun x fem omega!reader (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 ➛ (final I)
warnings: SMUT! ALL things a/b/o, fluff, teasing, tension, possessiveness, making out (lots), begging (lots), oral (f & m.rec), fingering, "pillow princess" used inaccurately, unprotected sex (don't!), (positions: missionary, mating press), body worship, he puts her toes in his mouth, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, knotting, marking (claiming), strength kink, tyun has a consumption kink, hickeys, overuse of the pet name "sweetheart", recollections of abandonment & dysfunctional family dynamics, things get emotional a lot :3
wc: 18.0k!
scznote: it's finally here! my heart and soul went into writing this part! it took a while, but here she is, finally! do show this part some love! may contain errors! i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! x
it had been three days
three days since taehyun last touched you– well, touched you like that
the alpha had been quite horrified upon discovering your research and finding out that you needed two days worth of rest after your, well, rough rousing – but at most, taehyun believed in doing things right
and in doing things right, he meant restraint. you had been abstinent for the past three days – at least, he had clarified, until your next date
you’ve been itching for a taste of him again. the slow drag of his hands on your skin, the way he’d have you crying his name to the heavens in record time, over and over, like you couldn’t stop even if you tried, how he makes you unravel with just one command
you're ecstatic that it's finally happening tonight – and this time, you're not going to hold back
you recall the last few days with heat sparking low in your belly
it felt like you were losing your mind – especially now that you've been living in close proximity with your alpha. the both of you made the decision that you would move in with him, instead of you getting your own place. his apartment space was made for two, after all
taehyun had made sure that the process of moving your things from your father's house to his apartment was a smooth and speedy one for you and when you suggested that you split the rent, you'd been given a quick kiss to shut you up, along with a firm "absolutely not", having left no room for arguments
taehyun makes it very clear that he does not want you lifting a finger – ever
when you had said your goodbyes to your father for the last time and he had held you and told you he hopes taehyun takes good care of you, you had simply known
you had known that you would always be well taken care of, much more than you could ever fathom or imagine
now, all of this meant constantly being in his orbit, constantly being surrounded by him. not that you're complaining, no. you've never been happier in your entire life – that is, if your alpha wasn't such a goddamn tease all the time
there are a few things you've come to notice about taehyun
he loves cooking for you – and you're convinced his cooking is better than any fancy restaurant he plans to take you to in the future. he cleans too, giving you a look when you go to unload the dishwasher or wipe down the counters. you do it anyway. he shows you more of his magic tricks – this is how you've come to find that your favourite thing about taehyun is when he really concentrates on something
it's the way he looks — eyebrows furrowed, eyes focused, jaw set, hands busy
god, those hands. the way they work anything with nothing short of ease and careful practice
you can never decide between praising him, fanning yourself or blushing like a school girl with a very, very impressive crush
you don't even want to get started on the fact that he's been working out at home ever since you moved in, using anything and everything as equipment – even you
he tosses you around like you weigh nothing, enjoying far too much the gasps and squeals his rowdiness elicits from you
you had watched him pick up the chair in the livingroom without strain, repping it with one arm. if he had picked up on the way you pressed your thighs together and took deep breaths to calm yourself, he didn't comment on it, silently smug as he continued to rep away, the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulders having glistened in sweat
you don't tell him, but once when he'd stepped out of sight, you had tried picking up the very same chair he used. you had failed, miserably. only managing to lift it off the floor a few inches, mere seconds before you had let it drop down again
it had struck you, just how terrifyingly strong your alpha is
the teasing, however, never stops, even when he sings – another thing which he is infuriatingly good at
wet the bed had echoed through the hallway two days ago, you had gasped to yourself upon recognizing the tune. jupiter love had spilled from his mouth while he had you under the shower spray yesterday and ai to highball had played low in the kitchen as he chopped carrots, gaze heavy when he gave you that loaded once over. fuck, you'd almost thrown yourself right at him – but you wanted to be good. you wanted to wait, just like he had asked
lastly, he absolutely, positively hates when you call him cute – the word itself like profanity to him. it usually gets you pinned against the nearest surface, a steel-like grip holding you down, voice dripping with warning
well, it certainly gets you dripping with want, heat pulling low in your stomach when you whine for him to release you
— and even though you've packed the entirety of your wardrobe, you still find yourself reaching for his shirts, his sweaters and his hoodies. they're bathed in his scent, wrapping around you – oceanic, citrusy and familiar. he loves seeing you in them too. there's this sort of amused, but unmistakably possessive spark in his eyes when you slip into something you've pulled from his closet after a shower or a bath together
you never bathe separately anymore either
the two of you would be seated on the couch afterward, a show or movie faintly continuing in the background while his lips ghost over the column of your neck, nose tickling along your scent gland
he'd breathe you in, barely able to conceal the hunger in his voice when he whispers things like, "you look so good, smell so good, taste so good. fuck, sweetheart, i could eat you right up"
you blush every single time, slick threatening to trickle out and ruin your clean pair of panties
"c'mere", he'd coax, swiftly pulling you into his lap where he slots his lips against yours in a kiss that is nothing short of smothering, cupping handfuls of your ass. his self-restraint slips just enough to let you know that you'll never go undesired by him, even in this self-proclaimed, small period of abstinence
taehyun is, by far, the most self-controlled alpha you've ever seen so close to rut – despite his slip of composure days ago
strong arms would then wrap solid around your waist, making sure that you're warm and cozy against him. this is typically how he coaxes a venting session out of you
he'd map chaste little kisses over the skin of your neck. it's against the delicate flesh there that he would ask his prompting question – something mindful enough to ease you out of all the surging hormones from mere seconds ago, bringing you back down to earth
it's right there, in his arms, where you're shielded away from the world – from everything and everyone that once hurt you, that you open up for him
you recall to him your childhood growing up, the parts you had not told him the first night you met. memories of your upbringing with your parents come easily – memories of your mother – and the more you recall, the more you see the similarities between what was your relationship with jungwon and the cursed mate bond of your parents
it was a vicious cycle
taehyun listens carefully through all of it, reassuring touches tracing steadily, deliberate over your skin
you open up about this – how you never had anything like this with jungwon. he was cold and distant, never sparing you a touch unless he wanted it to lead to more, never paying any mind to your concerns if it didn't revolve around the pack. that was why he always called you a "handful"
the thought of leaving him back then had never made you feel like dying. it was the detachment that scared you most. at the time, you were unable to discern between those two emotions, because jungwon was family and enha-pack was all you knew
you've heard the stories – in this world, mate rejection meant immediate suicide and yet, with him you had never felt any of it: excruciating pain like pins and needles twisting into your flesh, your heart turning to ice and your soul clawing itself out from your body, crawling and tearing right through your skin
none of it
you had experienced none of it – and unfortunately, it was only then that you knew
jungwon was, in fact, not your mate
he was never meant to be yours and you were never meant to be his
you had been fine – aside from the ache of regret of years spent chasing after his love and care and the tears you shed for weeks, betrayal stung from his infidelity – all of which you had expected to experience had missed you
and as you picked up the pieces the following months, you became grateful that the moon goddess hadn't chosen you to be jungwon's mate
you were deceived, manipulated
not only by him, but by those around you – the guardians and elders who should have protected you
hell, you had thought it was normal, the way things were supposed to be between mates. you never had a true mate-bond displayed to you anyway – not between your father and mother, at least
he never wanted her, never cared for her as a mate
you had grown up watching her stare at him from across rooms, longing and grief swimming in her eyes. you had watched her shrink as the years went by, becoming a shell of the omega you were used to as a pup
you grew up witnessing the arguments, the neglect, the screaming — there was so much screaming. and cursing. he always cursed, at her
it wasn't long until she was gone
you hadn't tried to stop her when she walked out – when she left the house, the pack and even you. you didn't blame her either, not the way your father did
because you got a taste of how it felt – how it felt when you finally left that pack house, when you finally let go of the alpha whom you believed was yours. not when your eyes had opened at last and you had gotten a taste of freedom
no, you didn't blame your mother at all
at the ripe age of sixteen, your mother was gone. you were left only to watch as your father moved on. it had confused you, almost bewildered you that your father hadn't withered away. you'd heard the legends, the way the elders talked, you'd seen it – how the rejection of your mate could kill you. it had the power to end your life
perhaps that's why he hadn't dropped dead the second your mother left him – because he had never truly loved her
because they were never mates
your father, still possessive and territorial had sent out search parties for her and they had found her, thriving and alive – in a city far, far away
she hadn't died from their broken mate-bond either and the knowledge had you torn. as you presented and matured and your father gained full reigns of your life, you had started to see it for what it truly was
selfish – that's what he called her. and perhaps she was selfish for leaving everything behind, but god, the more you aged, the more you understood
in many ways, you think your father and jungwon were the exact same. they always put the pack first, others first and would always set their family last. they didn't care what it would cost them – or at least, they pretended not to
you're glad you decided to follow in her footsteps, that you had stepped out without looking back – that even if stepping out possibly meant immediate suicide, you knew you had to get out
without your mother, you grew up used to love being something rough, something that wounded – a meaningless word thrown around to control, to manipulate and to flatter
but with him — with taehyun , it's real
it's deep and raw and something that cannot be contained. it has slowly started to take over the entirety of your being, threading through you and reprogramming you with every passing moment you spend with him
it makes tears gather in your eyes at times – the gentleness of him. how he heals something he did not break, without complaint, without effort, like it's second nature to him – a task he happily accepts and completes simply with his existence
a large part of you wishes that your mother, wherever she's found herself, is getting to experience this too – that she's cherished and cared for like this
you couldn't have dreamed this up, dreamed him up – not in a million years
with him you don't have to be the leader – the luna. you can simply…exist, in his orbit, basking in the love he pours into you, because he has more than enough to give
that is why when taehyun rolls on top of you and slots his lips together with yours, you don't ask him to take you. you don't ask him to have his way with you and fuck you until you can no longer think – to offer you a release instead of comforting words – no matter how badly you ache to have him inside of you
you allow him to simply kiss you — gentle, slow and sweet. you let him take the lead, not protesting or demanding more in moments like these, when he wants to show you simple intimacy without lust
you simply submit, because he makes submission easy
after a venting session like this and of course after taehyun had kissed you silly, he'd pull back, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and soothe you with words of reassurance – rewiring your mind until all you know is gentleness, redefining phrases that were once used to control you
— which is why, as you stand in front of the mirror right now, securing the clasp of your necklace, your heart buzzes with anticipation and your body with excitement – doubt yet another thing of the past
because, tonight is the night you will finally become his – in every sense of the word
he's waiting for you, outside the apartment. he had gotten ready in the spare bedroom, insisting that when you first see each other tonight, it should be a surprise
your eyes scan your frame in the mirror one last time, smoothing over the fabric of your favorite red dress – well, the one you had saved just for tonight. you decided to go with something a little more bold, not afraid to show skin (seeing taehyun's appreciation for it on your last date) and you styled your hair and makeup to absolute perfection
you look good, better than you've ever looked and you think it has little to do with your appearance and more with how you feel
deep breaths, y/n, you smile at yourself in the mirror, grabbing everything you need and heading for the front door
and there he stands, leaning against the hallway wall opposite the door
you swallow a gasp, he looks absolutely dashing
his hair – dark and silky, falls softly around his face, parted in the middle and slightly tousled like he ran a hand through it one too many times while waiting
the black suit he wears hugs his shoulders perfectly, the sharp lines of the jacket and trousers making him look taller and broader than he already is. a black dress shirt, buttoned neatly to the collar, stretches only slightly over his chest. he doesn't wear a tie. you don't know how he pulls it off, but he does
a glint of silver on his wrist catches your eye, the metal shiny against his honey skin
you're going to have an awfully hard time keeping your hands to yourself tonight
your heart skips several beats as you clear your throat
his head lifts upon hearing the sound, eyes sparkling and lips parting, drinking you in – just like the first time he laid eyes on you
he straightens, blinking out of it, snapping his mouth shut as he swallows, adam's apple bobbing with the effort
you shut and lock the front door, making your way over to him. his hands – warm and eager, are on you immediately, unable to stop himself from drawing you closer
god, he smells good too, you note, drawing in slow deep breaths
you nearly drop to your knees, your head spinning as your omega stirs awake, nudging you to pull him back through that front door and end the night early
pull yourself together, y/n
"hi", you whisper, softly cupping his jaw
"hi", he whispers back, failing to suppress the smile that begins to take over his face and then he pauses, putting up a hand
"i have something for you"
you smile in anticipation
his eyes don't leave yours, not for a second. one moment his palm is empty, fingers closing around nothing. the next, he's opening them again. a flower – a single red peony, rests between his fingers, as if having been plucked from thin air
it matches perfectly with your dress
your silly heart stumbles over itself and you chuckle, amused as he extends his hand, holding it out for you to take – and you do, beaming down at the flower as you bring it closer to your nose, a faint sweetness tickling your senses
"thank you, taehyun", you breathe, your heels allowing you to place a kiss right at the edge of his jaw, his hand tightening on your lower back
"shall we?" he asks, extending his elbow for you to take, leading you to the elevator and then finally to his car on the ground floor
the vehicle is sleek and polished and the headlights flicker when he unlocks it. he opens the passenger door for you and you're about to step in when you see it, a gasp escaping your chest
there, on the passenger seat lay a large bouquet of red peonies, wrapped in black paper, identical to the one in your hand. you reach for it, bringing the bouquet to your chest, turning around to find him studying you with a quiet smile
your own smile widens as you look down at them, the bouquet bigger than your face. every peony the perfect shade of red, complementing your dress
"taehyun," your breathing stutters, "these are gorgeous"
"just like you", he hums
your heart leaps in your chest as he lowers his head. you tilt your chin up and your eyes flutter closed, offering your lips for a kiss, breath held in anticipation
instead, you're met with the featherlight touch of his lips to your neck and your breath hitches
"you look breathtaking, y/n", he murmurs against the skin, voice smooth, gliding over you like silk – the compliment dusting your cheeks pink
"and you look handsome", you reply, your unoccupied arm sliding around his shoulder when your knees threaten to buckle. an arm curls around you and his nose tickles your skin as he breathes you in
fuck, you smell good
it takes all of the alpha's strength not to drag you to his backseat and have his way with you right in this damned parking lot
absolutely not, taehyun, he chastises himself and his alpha – who's apparently trying to make his pants too tight before this date even starts – tonight is not the night for that
not having you for three agonizingly long days was taking its toll on him
he places one last kiss on the skin there, before begrudgingly pulling back – or so he thinks. your arm tightens around him and taehyun chuckles upon surveying your expression
"why won't you kiss me?", you pout, following him a fraction and closing the gap again
he merely smiles down at you, dimples protuding and fangs on full display, voice low and dangerous, "sweetheart, i'm afraid that if i kiss you now, i won't be able to stop"
you inhale so quickly, nearly choking on air, knees weakening at the promise swimming in his eyes
they rake over you, heavy with desire and that look alone makes you feel exposed, undressed – as though he knows the embarassing frenzy he had just set off in your gut, the pure need you're trying to conceal
"besides, i don't want to ruin your lipstick"
you whine, a warmth igniting in your core as his lips meet just below your ear, grazing the spot there when he continues, "think you can hold out for me?", his arm tightening around you
god, he just has to be an absolute tease – and you're reminded of just how worked up you were for him on that first date night when he had asked you the same thing
you're just as worked up for him right now and he's barely done anything
your voice is breathy as you surrender, "yes, alpha. i can– i can hold out, for you"
he chuckles, amused and knowing, "that's my good girl" – and you bite back another pitiful sound as he places a chaste kiss to that exact spot before pulling away
"c'mon, get in the car. we'll be late to our reservation"
taehyun's self-control hangs on by a thin thread. it certainly doesn't help that he knows you wouldn't put up a fight if he were to cross that line – he has to hold back, for the both of you
you sigh shakily, clutching onto the bouquet, withdrawing your hand from him and lowering yourself into the passenger seat. he shuts the door behind you, still wearing that smug little grin as he makes his way around the car, getting in on the driver's side and starting the engine
red, velvet and sleek
the restaurant glows in shades that match and coordinate flawlessly with yours and taehyun's attire. the space is intimate, round tables draped in rich cloth, chandeliers dimmed low to create the perfect ambience, reflecting back on the silverware
soft music drifts through the air, a jazzy tune of some sort fading into a neo bolero piece. it curls lazily throughout the room and wraps you in an atmosphere that whispers romance
your alpha's hand rests at the small of your back, guiding you toward the front counter, firm and steady as a few pairs of eyes settle on the two of you
the counter is pristine, ivory marble lined with charcoal, the perfect contrast against the crimson hues strobing from every corner. taehyun allows a moment for you to admire the interior – you, unable to tear your eyes away from how every element ties it all together, delighted and impressed that he had found and chosen such a thoughtfully curated place for your date tonight
behind the counter stands a tall male, what looks to be an alpha dressed in classic host attire – crisp white button-up, black tie, fitted waistcoat, his smile polished and practiced, well—
a flirtatious smile, taehyun notes, particularly aimed at you
his hand slides to your waist, the hold firm against your frame
"good evening, sir…m'lady," the host – what you now recognize by his scent as an alpha, says smoothly – his voice warm and a little too charming for taehyun's liking
his gaze lingers on you just a fraction longer than necessary. "do you have a reservation or shall i prepare a table for you?"
taehyun feels his eye twitch – chest growing hot
"reservation for kang", he says, voice edged a tad bit sharper than he had intended
the host – hyunjin, you read on his pristinely printed nametag, finally turns his head taehyun's way, tearing his gaze from you. you swear you can see the way his blood turns to ice. they recognize each other, of course they do. main alphas across packs tend to know each other's names and identities very, very well. he runs a nervous hand through his hair, but tries to conceal it with a smile
his eyes, however, still hold a challenge as he turns to the little screen in front of him, tapping away and nodding to himself before stepping out from behind the counter
"follow me", he beckons over his shoulder with his index and middle fingers
for a second, taehyun doesn't move. he's rigid, skin scalding hot to the touch as he eyes hyunjin moving past him, waiting expectantly for the two of you to follow
perhaps he should throttle him, smash his pretty-boy face into that counter—
"alpha"
a gentle hand on his chest and your voice – low and soft, cuts off his murderous train of thought
pride swells in taehyun's chest as the waiter looks between the pair of you
that's right, he thinks, he's the only one you call by that title
and you had said it loud and clear enough for hyunjin to hear
"c'mon", you coax softly once more, arms wrapping around his bicep, nudging him to move and follow the waiter to your designated table
it's set against a wall, covered with red, velvety wallpaper, slightly tucked away from the rest of the restaurant – your own quiet corner. from here, you have a full view of the room and the bustling movement about. it almost feels private, intimate, the perfect spot for you and taehyun to people-watch and flirt, without too many listening ears around
you take the seat that taehyun pulls out for you, a spotless chair right across from his and he keeps a close eye on the alpha setting down your menus as he settles into his own
he almost, almost grabs said alpha by the collar when he sends a wink your way as he steps away to give you some time to decide on your order – but your touch grounds him once more. you chuckle, caressing his forearm, "forget about him. don't pay him any mind"
he scoots his chair so that the back faces the wall completely. your chuckle lingers, "what are you doing—?"
the question is cut off by a gasp when he reaches down, fingers curling under the seat of your chair, not breaking eye contact as he drags you closer, your weight and all – the sound of scraping against the floor drowned out by the music, until your knee brushes his
"taehyun", you scold, though it comes out more as an exasperated whine, lacking in bite and authority
"that's better", he rasps low, pecking at the skin of your nape
fuck, that was hot
your thighs attempt to squeeze together when his hand settles itself right on the skin there, warm and possessive as he kneads the inner flesh
"let's see what's on the menu, shall we?" he simply continues – smug, as if that single act of possessiveness did not just unravel you at the seams
it's proves to be increasingly difficult to settle on a choice as taehyun's hand continues to caress up and down your thigh under the table, thumb drawing slow circles, silently driving you crazy – a secret just between the two of you
god, the night has barely started and taehyun already has you aching for him
when hyunjin returns, your alpha orders for the both of you. then and only then, does he grant you mercy, withdrawing his hand from your heated skin, intertwining his hand with yours instead
you don't miss the icy glare he sends hyunjin's way or the the way his jaw ticks – you also don't miss the way sapphire and mandarin curl around you, burning with arousal and dominance
oh, he's scenting you
you don't mind one bit. taehyun's jealousy and protectiveness is quite entertaining – and one hell of a turn on
it doesn't take long for your food and wine to arrive, taehyun filling your glasses and clinking his to yours. he feeds you bites from his plate and you feed him bites from yours, humming in satisfaction at how good it tastes
you ask about the pack and he fills you in – dynamics, the structure as well as expectations from you, nothing out of the ordinary, just standard pack morality
you gasp at one point, when he lets a tiny – huge – detail slip
"next in line for head alpha? taehyun, that's…impressive. honestly, i just thought it was yeonjun all this time since he's the eldest. that's how things worked in enha-pack"
he smiles fondly at you, "that's only if anything ever happens to soobin. which, i will make sure there won't"
you sigh dramatically, "gosh, can't escape being a luna, can i?"
you watch as his fork stills and he straightens, "i would never make that your responsibility, y/n—"
"taehyun, i'm pulling your leg", you chuckle, hand settling on him forearm as he releases the breath he was holding. "you should know, if it ever does come down to it, there's no one else i'd be a luna for. you're the only one i'd lead a pack with"
his eyes simply flicker between yours, searching for any ounce of doubt – finding none
"and for what it's worth," you continue, "i think you'd make the perfect head alpha", your fingers card through the dark strands of his hair. "stern and strict, sure", you joke and he groans, clicking his tongue, though his eyes never lose their tenderness. "but an exceptional leader, nonetheless"
"besides," a seductive little smile takes over your face before you shift closer to him, purring right against his ear, "you make it easy to follow your command"
you're really trying to set him off, taehyun thinks, his hand tightening around his fork, shamelessly spurring him on
"is that so?" he drawls, head tilting slowly as his gaze darkens
"hm-mh", you hum, hand tracing over his arm, his shoulder, his chest. "so strong and capable. you know exactly how to put someone in their place– makes me want you to put me in my place"
his hand rests on your thigh once again, giving it another firm squeeze. you bite back a whimper, knowing he can feel the heat radiating from your center – hell, it's calling for him
"keep talking like this and i'll have to put you in your place right here, since you're being so impatient"
the danger in his voice makes you still, sending delicious shivers down your spine, your breaths shaky – and you watch as he returns to eating his food, as if he hadn't just succeeded in turning your brain into absolute mush for the second time tonight
you follow suit, finishing the rest of your dish
when hyunjin returns to clear your plates and ask if you'd like dessert, your first instinct is to politely decline. it's clear that you want to make it home as soon as possible. your entire body is pulsing with need at this point. it's amplified when your alpha's hand – warm and firm – traces dangerously high along the flesh of your thigh and you choke on the sweet little no, thank you you were about to throw hyunjin's way
"are you alright, m'lady? may i offer you some water?"
you bite back a gasp as taehyun's hand traces higher and you press your thighs together just in time before his fingers reach your center – which, without a doubt, has begun to dampen your underwear
"sweetheart, use your manners. our host has asked you a question", he taunts, thumb drawing lazy circles onto your skin. your mind short-circuits, taehyun only feigning indifference
he watches you, a challenging glint in his eye. he's smug as he regards the waiter this time
you swallow a whimper, "yes, i'll uh– i'll have a water, thank you – and then we'll have the molten chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis, as well as the bill, please"
"alright," hyunjin smiles, that flirtatious twinkle returning to his eyes, "will that be all, m'lady?"
"that'll be all, thank you hyunjin", taehyun speaks and his tone sends another shiver down your spine
the host straightens, a nervousness overtaking his smile as he regards your alpha – icy and impenetrable. he makes quick work of clearing your plates, disappearing back into the kitchen within seconds
deep breaths, y/n
"you seem to like raspberry things", taehyun states thoughtfully, his voice much softer now
you pause, tilting your head in question, "raspberry things? what do you mean?"
a smile takes over his face – half teasing, half sharp, fangs on full display as his hand comes to rest on the back of your chair – you're able to collect yourself again
"the night we met", he says, almost to himself. "you don't remember?"
you shake your head no, narrowing your eyes playfully
"you got tipsy, fast"
a cackle escapes you before you can stop it and his smile broadens. your eyes settle back on him, a faint blush painting the apples of your cheeks
"hm, i don't recall that", you hum, playing innocent and this time his eyes narrow. "but please, continue"
he snorts, "you told me you had, what, four shots of raspberry vodka?"
you chuckle with him now, tapping your fingers on the table. "hey, do you blame me? i was trying to forget about the literal spawn of satan"
that seems to pull a good chuckle out of taehyun, his eyes on you, thoughtful. "understandable", he agrees, before a solemn expression takes over his face
the air stills and you feel the change in atmosphere, the way his scent spikes protective and you turn to face him fully
his gaze lingers on you, more deliberate now. "i think i knew that the first time we spoke at that party", his fingers tap against the back of your chair before stilling. "you didn't say much about it, you didn't have to" — a pause — "i could tell you were trying to outrun something – someone"
your eyes flick between his, pulse stammering and like he takes note of it, his voice lowers into something more steady, gentle. "i knew then that i wasn't going to let you do that alone", his elbow rests on the chair, hand reaching out to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. you lean into his touch. "that whatever you were trying to drown out, wouldn't get close to hurting you again, not if i could help it"
there he goes again – disarming you after getting you worked up, gentle with the vulnerability that begins to bloom in your chest
"there was another point later that night, where i came to that decision"
you hum, expectant for him to continue
"i remember by then we had been talking for hours. you threw your head back every time i made you laugh", he studies you, eyes warm and almost unblinking – your heart does a silly thing inside your chest
"i think after a while all of the movement made you a little dizzy and then – next thing i know, you were resting your head on my shoulder." he traces around the rim of his glass now. "you curled into me so easily. you trusted me, an alpha who you had just met – and all you knew about me was that i was your mate"
the memory comes back to you now
everything around you had become foggy and blurry. his voice was low, soothing. you remember seeing your hand in his lap, interlocked with his as his fingers mindlessly toyed with yours – gentle and idly – simply getting you used to his touch
"it was then that i decided—" you feel a tingle in your arm, looking down at your intertwined hands to see him mimicking his actions from that night – simple affection that still makes your heart stutter. "—that i would take care of you for the rest of my life. that i would protect you no matter what. that you would always, just like you did that night, be able to put your head on my shoulder and just let go"
he brings your hand to his lips, placing a reverent kiss on the back of it, the gesture filling your chest with warmth
"i don't want you fretting or worrying, not when you're with me, sweetheart. whatever responsibility you have, whatever burden, we'll handle it together. what's yours will always, inevitably become mine."
you're speechless for a good few seconds, before your hands move. you wrap them around his arm, resting your chin on his shoulder – mere inches between you
your voice is soft, mellow – everything taehyun wants you to be when you're with him – as you begin to speak
"thank you, taehyun"
his eyes never leave yours, the hand on the table abandoning his glass, knuckles brushing lightly along your cheek and your lashes flutter at the touch
"thank you, for everything. i know you keep saying i don't have to thank you for any of this, but… you've made this entire process so easy for me. easier than i thought it would be", you exhale softly, almost a laugh
"there are things that happened in my life that i never thought i'd share with anyone, not even with jun or gyu. i thought i was doing a good job at hiding it all that first night, but of course you noticed. everyone else always just assumed that i could handle it"
he leans closer. not interrupting, just making it clear that he’s present and listening
"it's a little ironic", you start, a faint smile pulling at your lips. "that the moon goddess gave me an alpha that's everything my old pack expected me to be. i guess now i have to relearn how to adjust and receive that instead"
he cups your face, thumb tracing over your cheek. "i don't care how long it takes for you to relearn, y/n. i'll be here, through every part of this. everything they had you carry before, that weight is mine now. and i'll keep doing it until you understand that i'll be the one to take care of it all"
once again, you're rendered speechless
a familiar sense of safety washes over you, flooding every part of your being with warmth. he's done it again: breaking down every wall you built over the years and especially over the past six months. his undending pursuit of your softness and above all, your willing submission never fails to leave you bare, unguarded – and as always, in moments like this, his name is the only thing you can manage to utter, escaping you with an exhale
your gaze dips to his lips for a second, before returning to his eyes
your heart beats wildly in your chest when his hand curls underneath your chin, drawing you closer as he leans in – bottom lip tingling when he comes close. you feel his breath tickling your lips and your eyes flutter shut—
a throat clears, ripping you and taehyun out of your daze
this time, it's your turn to throw a steely glare hyunjin's way – taehyun having to bite back a smile at the sight
"molten chocolate fondant with raspberry coulis", he announces before gracefully placing the dessert before the two of you. the bill follows – tucked neatly into a black leather booklet
your sourness lifts upon the sight
"thank you, hyunjin", you say, after gathering yourself, throwing another polite smile his way which he returns with a wink
"enjoy the rest of your evening, sir, m'lady", his eyes sparkle with mischief again. uh oh
"if there is anything else you need…i'm right behind the counter", he purrs before slithering away to said corner
you look over to see taehyun's jaw clenched harder than you've ever seen before, his eyes darkening as he watches your host wipe and polish glasses – that same smug grin plastered on his face
taehyun almost flips the goddamn table
you know his alpha is absolutely raging inside of him, daring him to do all sorts of murderous things to the alpha that easily whispers and flirts with the other omegas around him, all of which are his coworkers
his demeanor begins to remind you of your own friend – yeonjun – and you're sure if he had worked here and he hadn't known the pair of you, he'd present the same cheeky challenge to taehyun
you slip your hand into his, drawing his attention back to you. his skin is hot to the touch, but the second he tears his gaze away, it softens – still charged when he settles on you
fuck – you cross one leg over the other
you shouldn't, you really shouldn't, but something about taehyun when he gets like this – possessive and protective – does inexplicable things to you
reaching for one of the dessert spoons and cutting into the fondant, you watch as the molten center spills out slowly, glossy and indulgent. a small smile tugs at your lips as you scoop a bite, lifting it toward him
you don't miss the way he eyes your crossed legs, raising a brow as he scoffs. you're just so painfully easy to read. he leans in anyway
your breath hitches slightly when his gaze doesn't leave yours, even as he takes the bite, slow, deliberate
fuck fuck fuck, focus y/n, you chastise yourself
how can you? you know that look – it's the same way he looks at you when he's got you under him, falling apart, devouring you with his mouth
you're sure your panties are soaked, even more so when he groans, pulling back, the spoon squeaky clean. he swipes the excess chocolate off of his bottom lip with his tongue as he chews
"delicious", he purrs, voice dropped to that octave that usually has your legs spreading within seconds. you cross them even tighter – just to be safe
taehyun knows exactly what he's doing
he reaches for his own spoon, cutting into the fondant, making sure to scoop a generous amount of the raspberry coulis. with his hand cupped under the spoon, he brings it closer to your lips. you're unable to take your eyes off his – they sit low, sharp, heavy with desire
"open up", he commands. it lands smooth and authoritative and it almost makes you forget he's talking about your mouth and not your legs (that have become restless) under the table
you part your lips, enough for him to slip the spoon past, humming when the sweetness hits your tongue
"good girl", he praises, that triumphant grin returning when your eyes widen, your hand involuntarily squeezing his. your alpha chuckles as you clear your throat while you chew, trying desperately to steady your breathing and your pulse
he finally lets up, sitting back in a manspread and you fight every explicit thought your omega tries putting into your head – specifically the ones where you're throwing yourself right into his lap
the night goes on like that – heat and tension thrumming between you and taehyun, almost unbearable, refusing to be ignored any longer
true to his word, you do hold hands and talk and flirt around the table while sharing your dessert. he does pay for dinner and shoots you a stern look when you chuckle. he does make you laugh with all of his sarcastic jokes and remarks. you catch him watching you too, obsidian irises filled with tender affection, lips pulled into a satisfied smile, simply because your laugh is one of his favourite sounds
– and when your wine glasses are empty and your dessert plate is clean, you allow yourself a second to take him in
you find that he does the same – and the world around the two of you stills
everything – taehyun had given you everything you had once begged the moon goddess for. everything you thought you would never experience, that you thought you didn't deserve. everything you had longed for, for months – years
it dawns on you again, just like it had three days ago. just like it had every other time this week, when he had comforted you, cooked for you, cleaned for you, bathed you, held you. you're in love with him – out of your mind in love and now…
you wanted to give him everything
taehyun, being the ever attentive alpha that he is, notices your eyes glossing over and sits up immediately, hands warm and familiar on you
"sweetheart? what's the matter?", his brows furrow in concern, eyes flitting between yours
you lean into his touch when he cups your face, the words on your tongue weighing too heavy to swallow, heart beating wild inside of your chest
"take me home, taehyun"
he stills, not because he's caught off guard, but because your voice has dropped into a mere whisper, desperate and pleading – because his alpha immediately recognizes your need. he falters for a moment, something akin to a red-hot fever coursing over his body when he realizes what you're asking for – and as if fanning the flame more, you manage a broken "please"
you watch the last of his restraint give way, the last sliver of self-control snapping – quiet and irreversible
he rises from his seat, slowly. your eyes follow him as he towers over you. when he holds his hand out for you to take, you do without hesitation, rising from your seat too, never taking your eyes off of his
he leads you toward the exit of the restaurant and you're met with the sight of his broad back and the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours as he strides forward. when you pass the counter, you watch hyunjin's lips part to make another flirty remark, the words if you ever need anything, you know where to find me dying on his tongue, snapping his mouth shut upon the hard glare taehyun shoots his way
your omega squeals and thrills at the sight, flooding your panties when taehyun pulls you closer behind him once you're outside, urging you to wrap your hands around his arm instead as he takes you to his car
he makes sure you're buckled in safe and secure, before closing the door behind you. you can't help but press your thighs together, eyes following him as he makes his way to the drivers side of the car
he's in the drivers seat within seconds, seatbelt fastened and starting the ignition, the car coming to life with a rumbling purr
you nor him say a word as he takes off, fighting to keep your hands off of each other at every stop. true to his promise, he does steal kisses at every red light – loaded, passionate pecks that resonate loud through the car, making you crave more. him – groaning when the light turns green before he can deepen them, you – whimpering at the loss
the car fills with a tension that doesn’t ease, it only builds and intensifies – pressing in with every passing second
your omega rejoices when you catch sight of your apartment building
almost there
the front door slams shut, sealing away the world outside
before you know it, taehyun pins you against the door, pressing you up against it. his lips on yours are hungry and passionate, almost overwhelming
you simply melt against him, arms wrapping around his neck and hands curling into the raven strands of his hair, pressing your lips onto his with the same fervor, allowing him to hoist you up and press you further up the door – grunting ravenously into your mouth when your legs wrap around his waist
your dress hikes up, exposing the soft skin of your thighs to the chilly evening air – the same air that has thickened far too much with barely contained tension
taehyun's incessant mouth migrates to your neck, his teeth dragging against the column before sucking hard on the skin. the sound of your soft, scandalized gasp makes him pull back. you're panting, both of you – the gaze you share is heavy, eyes taking turns to dip to the other's kiss-swollen lips
"i've been dying to kiss you like this all night", he rasps, forehead coming to rest on yours
his nose nudges yours affectionately and a blissful smile takes over your face, breathing him in
"you were trying to drive me crazy, weren't you? wearing this dress…"
his lips are back on yours, sweeping you back into his hot kiss, tongue dipping greedily into your mouth. the lewd, sloppy sounds of your kissing resonates through the small entryway – loud and borderline obscene. slick pools in your panties with every wet smack that echoes in your ears
he can't help but let his hands begin to wander. neither can you. your omega purrs at the the feel of his suit's fabric beneath your palms, the tease of hard, solid muscle flexing and pressing under every fiber
taehyun presses harder into you, practically holding you up with just his hips, letting his hands sneak up your waist, cupping handfuls of your breasts over your dress. his thumbs toy with the already hardened peaks over the delicate fabric, making you moan out when his mouth detaches from yours
his incessant kiss maps lower, nipping and sucking bruises into your skin, eating up the expanse of your exposed torso – mouth engulfing warm over your breasts
his teeth gnaw at the plush and you cry out, only egging on his rough affection
you find yourself desperately clutching onto his arms, acutely aware of the hard, thick length brushing against the thin barrier of your drenched panties
"taehyun. bedroom. please", you barely mumble, head clouded with dizzying desire
he sets you down, still holding you flush against him as he allows for you to turn the two of you around, stumbling back in the direction of his bedroom. his lips are back on yours and you squeak into his mouth when you bump into the half moon table placed against the wall. you curse the piece of furniture in your head – and the fact that you still need to learn how to navigate taehyun's apartment in the dark – only the dimmed light from the kitchen providing you with minimal guidance
taehyun groans in frustration, scooping you up once more, opting to carry you to his bedroom instead. still impressed by his strength and his ability to take charge, you sigh dreamily into his mouth, only the sound of his purposeful strides and your lips smacking against one another's echoing in the otherwise quiet space
he sets you down when he steps over the threshold, walking you back towards his bed. your hands momentarily leave him to unzip your dress, his shrugging off his suit jacket, tossing it somewhere on the floor
your hands are back on him, unbuttoning his shirt with impatient fingers, his – peeling your dress off
your alpha pauses, taking in the sight of you before him
red lace adorns your skin, a colour identical to that of your dress. the flower-petal details hug and trace perfectly around your hips and breasts, clinging prettily to every delectable bit of softness
the sight of you like this makes taehyun's mouth water, his alpha even worse - foaming at the mouth
"fuck, sweetheart. you're really trying to drive me crazy, aren't you?" he pants, hands fisting in the flimsy fabric at your hips
your own push his undone shirt off of his shoulders, smoothing over the hard and broad surface with appreciation as he pulls you impossibly close, chest flush against his, the obvious strain of him brushing against your stomach
his voice drops to that dangerous octave, the one that has your ovaries burning as he whispers hotly against your lips
"i'm going to fucking ruin you"
he almost pushes you onto the bed, omega whimpering at his insistent hunger, but you don't give in, you don't budge – palms planted flat against his bare chest
"wait!", you call and he halts
taehyun pulls back, eyes searching yours, fingers digging into the soft curves of your hips
"there's— there's something i want to do first…if you'll let me", you breathe out, hands gliding appreciative over the hard muscle beneath your palms
"what are you—"
you sink to your knees carefully, keeping your eyes on his
your heartrate picks up. you see the confusion and arousal swimming in his eyes – almost conflicted. his hand immediately cups your face
"sweetheart, you don't have to—"
"let me do this", you plead, hands skimming up his thighs, brushing over his crotch. he bites back a grunt as you palm over his erection. "please"
he curses under his breath watching you undo his belt, the clink! that reverberates through the room making you clench around nothing, undoubtedly soaking the center of your panties in more slick
your hands make quick work of undoing his pants' button, even more hasty when you unzip him, eager but an understatement to describe you as you finally hook your fingers into the waist band of his pants and boxers and tug. you pull at the fabrics bunched between your fingers, just enough to free his length from the confines, tugging until his balls are exposed too, carved v-lines finally revealed
your cunt pulses obscenely at the first look at him – the entirety of him rock hard and throbbing, lined with prominent veins that trace up to his cockhead – bulbous and flushed a deep pink, oozing precum that makes you salivate. his beachy scent hits you full force from this close proximity
dizzied and entranced, you wrap a hand around the base, careful with your motions
fuck, he's massive
you had seen him take himself in hand before and how he took ahold of the length, how he had worked himself and god, looking at him now, you realize just how large he is in your hand in comparison to his own
your hand is warm and slightly clammy. you're nervous, he notes – and the thought alone makes him throb in your palm
your thumb and index finger barely touch as you stroke upward, swirling your palm around the leaking slit of his tip before descending down to his base again, coating him in the copious amounts of precum he had already released
a breathy sigh catches your ears and your eyes flicker up to him as you begin pumping him steady, squeezing out more of the citrusy, sapphire fluid
his jaw is clenched, eyes sharp, yet large with adoration as he watches you figure out how to work him best. you lean forward without taking your eyes off of his and place a sweet kiss against the opening at his tip, tasting him for yourself. he watches you slip into a trance, the need to taste more consuming you, glossed lips wrapping around the fat cockhead without pondering twice, humming satisfied as you suckle on it – and it fills almost half of your mouth
the sensation tears a groan from his chest, his hand brushing your hair away from your face
when you pull back, delicate strings of his precum and the saliva that has gathered in your mouth connect him to your lips. the visual is enough to make him curse under his breath
you crave to hear more
you place reverent kisses down his length, little suctioning motions laced with devotion until you reach the base. your eyes gloss over when his thumb draws delicate little circles over your cheek – like you're made of glass. you take one of his balls into your mouth, lathering it in your saliva, before sliding your tongue in between them, eliciting another breathy sigh from taehyun before mimicking the action with the other
enamored, you realize that he's bigger than your face and your body screams with need, but you choose to ignore it: the blatant pulse between your thighs watching his abs contract and the veins on his arms and adonis belt bulge
you lick a stripe up from balls to tip, tracing the prominent vein on the underside of his cock before taking him in your mouth again, this time pushing deeper. you hear him curse under his breath from above you – almost inaudible whispers of rapidly repeated fuck fuck fuck reverberating faintly in your ears, laced with the effort of keeping his composure
this won't do
you want taehyun to feel good, to let go of all restraint and feel what he made you feel
you waste no time, wrapping your other hand around the base too, before engulfing him in your mouth fully, pushing him to the back of your throat – the effort of suppressing your gag reflex proved useless at the sheer size of his cock
"sweetheart, fuck–!", he curses, voice rough and uncontrolled – finally, hand gripping onto the hair on the back of your head
you moan as you pull back, hands working slicker around his length now that you've coated the entirety of him in the mixture of your saliva and his precum, building a steady rhythm when you start bobbing your head up and down
taehyun tries desperately to gather himself, his grip tightening then loosening, fingers massaging your scalp, biting down on his bottom lip with every persistent suction and lather of your working mouth
it's no use, you've already made him slip
you can't help how your heart swells at the way he still tries to be gentle with you, even when you're making him feel good – you lift your eyes once more
his lips are parted, chest rising and falling as he draws in lungfuls of air, hand cupping under your chin. his head that had tipped back at the feel of your throat around him lowers, eyes flicking between yours in admiration and intoxicating awe, especially when your own glaze over and blur with unshed tears
that same lump forms in your throat that had prodded at you in the restaurant – the warmth in your chest that's only grown hotter, irrepressible – aching with how heavy it weighed on your soul
the same feeling you've never once felt when you were with jungwon
it bubbles to the surface now, clawing its way up and out from your lungs as you kneel before him like this, placing yourself before him in an act of surrender
he becomes concerned again as he watches you, both hands cupping your face, ready to pull you up and you shake your head no
pulling him out of your mouth, your breathing stutters and you're unable to mask the way your voice breaks when you finally voice what's been weighing on your chest
"you're so good to me"
it's a mere, trembling whisper – one that's meant only for him to hear. the sound of your voice – hushed with vulnerability, makes something in him break, his heart beating in time with yours as time itself seems to pause – it dawns on him then
those quiet words land square in his chest, punching the air out of his lungs. they spread warm and searing down his body, right to where his loins thrum with pride
you blink and the tears spill, cascading down your face as you place a tender kiss against his tip again
"you've been so good to me, alpha", you sob, taking him into your mouth once more and his eyes roll to the back of his skull, a beautiful moan falling from his lips
"sweetheart, shit—", he moans deep, mind short-circuiting as his alpha preens with gratification and possessiveness inside him
you whimper around the length, every push and pull of your mouth laced with ruinous devotion, hollowing your cheeks around him. tears continue to cascade in warm trails down your face as you increase your pace, taking more of him with every bob of your head
your heart continues to swell and pound wildly behind your ribcage, every cell in your body thrumming every time he moans or grunts, hips thrusting forward only the slightest bit
– because taehyun deserves this
taehyun deserves every second of the worship you're giving to him. hell, he's earned it
the alpha so impossibly kind, who had put your core and soul back together with his bare hands and his careful words. who had been gentle with your heart every time. who had shown you what it's like to be put first, to be elevated – not with a false title or empty promises, but by proving himself. the alpha who put you first every single time you had moments like this, making sure you felt good and satiated before he even dared to allow himself to get his own fill. who took care of you without you needing to ask. who did it because he wanted to, because he enjoyed it
your mind's made up, taehyun's the only one worthy of having you on your knees like this. this is all for him. tonight, the dress, the lingerie, your heart bared before him, giving him back what he gives to you without complaint, never asking for anything in return – and still, this feels nowhere near enough to thank him properly
you want to show him just how spoiled he's made his omega feel, to affirm him as he's affirmed you
when you pull back, stickier strings of saliva glisten between your lips and his tip, jerking the sensitive head in your fist
"you take such good care of me"
you work him faster, hands stroking up and down the entirety of his large length, squeezing tighter in a manner that has his hips rutting shallowly into your fists
"you always know what i need, always listen to me"
every word sends electricity down his spine, grunting and groaning as his fingers tangle into your hair once more, breathing turning ragged
"you're patient with me"
your cunt quivers at the guttural moan that escapes him when your mouth encases his bulbous cockhead once more, sucking eagerly around him with broken moans and indulgent sighs
you mouth down to his balls once more. they hang heavier now, filled with cum and your omega swoons at the mouthwatering scent radiating from his sex, begging to be fucked and bred until you cry. you cup and massage them, earning yourself another curse under his breath and a hiss through his teeth, twisting and jerking your hand around his tip
"want your pups– can't wait to have your pups, alpha", you practically sob out, drunk on the scent of him getting stronger, beachy and citrusy – filthier and more intoxicating at the source, making your ovaries burn
his hand grips onto your hair, putting it in a low, makeshift ponytail as he pants. "sweetheart, we said we'd wait— fuck!"
gags and coughs fill the space along with your obscene slurping and the lewd sound of your tongue tracing around his length – not letting him finish his objection as your lips stretch around him, nuzzling against his lower stomach
you moan loud and wanton around the length, working your hands in tandem with your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and pushing him to the back of your relaxed throat over and over again
he growls, actually growls before he starts fucking into your mouth and you see him grit his teeth, baring his canines the way he does when it gets harder for him to hold back, when he's tormented with the primal desire of sinking them into you
your wet slurps and swallows only get louder, you – working him faster, overjoyed that he's losing himself to the feel of your nursing mouth
his groans and grunts border on animalistic in a manner you've never heard from him before – so you decide to spur him on, confessing more of the carnal thoughts that have been consuming you, orchestrated by the love and care he's poured into you
"want your cum. want you to breed me, taehyun"
his eyes roll to the back of his skull, cock twitching at your breathy voice and the way your hands squeeze tighter, tug harder, milking him with nothing short of fervor and zeal
oh, how you enjoy watching him lose his mind
"our pups– want them to have your eyes, your smile"
holy fuck, taehyun almost slips, almost cums down your throat when you take him in again. he hadn't expected his care to provoke and stir these primal omegan desires in you. you're wrecking his composure, his alpha roaring to life inside of him with every earnest admission
"need you to fuck me full, 'think about it all the time"
a low growl reaches your ears and sends shivers down your spine and you whimper in turn, omega compelling you to yield and submit, to please
you take him into your eager mouth once more, shifting on your knees and feeling a dull ache start to creep in. you pay it little care when you feel the sheer amount of arousal that has leaked through your panties onto the bedroom floor beneath you. the way taehyun looks only amplifies your need to please – hair sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat, hand brushing the thick strands back and bicep bulging with the action. breaths quickening and abs tightening and releasing, the dimmed lamp-light catching onto every hard contour and muscle that flexes in his torso
"fuck my mouth", you beg, words muffled and slurred around the heaviness of him
the plea goes straight to his pre-rut clouded head
your hands unwrap themselves from around the base of his cock, settling on his suitpant-covered thighs instead, feeling the tensing of them beneath your palms
your grip on the material tightens when his thrusts grow brutal, fucking into your mouth with more intent – more of those sexy, dizzying moans, grunts and labored breaths resonating through the room
you gag and cough, determined to take all of him, determined to let him use you – to show him how deeply you appreciate him, that you're his in every way
"fucking driving me crazy", he grits out. "look so pretty with your mouth stuffed full of me"
all you can do is moan and whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. your lashes are glossy as you peer up at him. there's a tenderness in his gaze, even as he uses your mouth as he pleases, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly whilst the other hand in your hair smooths over the top of it, guiding you up and down his cock – his big, long, veiny cock that oozes more of the delicious precum that you can't get enough of
he's a mess. you're a mess. precum, spit and saliva dripping, spilling, dolloping down your chin, coating his balls, ruining and soaking his pants
"most beautiful thing i've ever seen"
you feel it, smell it. he's close, so close to letting go, so close to giving you his cum and you breathe heavy through your nose when he presses deeper, thrusting in until he reaches the back of your throat – nose kissing his abdomen. your eyes squeeze shut, throat making an obscene sound as you swallow around his tip. he grunts and hisses through his teeth, keeping you there
just when he's about to finish—
"fuck, i can't take it anymore", he chokes out. when your nails claw into his thighs, lightheaded – it's only then that he relents, pulling you off and you cough, gasping for air, spluttering out a glossy mess onto the floor
taehyun cups your face and pulls you up, slotting his lips together with yours, tangling your mouths together in a hot, filthy kiss. it's intense and urgent and sloppy – and he licks into your mouth like he's trying to get a deeper taste. sitting down at the edge of the bed, he guides you into his lap
"fucking perfect", he rasps against your lips and you whimper into his mouth, looping your arms around his shoulders
his hands slip under the fabric of your lacy panties, gripping greedily at the flesh of your hips. "my sweet girl"
you can't take it anymore. your pussy aches with need for him, craves to feel him inside now that you've had a taste of him. you're desperate, the feel of him against you agonizing the longer he holds back
"please", you break
it's a breathy little plea, the kind that makes taehyun's mind blank. "please alpha– need you, inside"
your hips move, working your aching cunt over his rock hard length, making an even bigger mess of his pants. he grunts at the feel of your sopping folds dragging over him, squeezing out even more arousal at the sound
taehyun's lips work their way down your throat, sucking a mark onto the skin there. his ministrations do little to distract you from the hand cupping your sex. you keen, grinding your core into his palm
"d-don't tease. i need you, taehyun– please"
the words go straight to his leaking cock, throbbing painfully at the sheer need in your voice and the orgasm he had denied himself. his heart isn't far behind, stuttering at your next plea
"make love to me"
he audibly groans in his chest, teething at the delicate skin of your nape
"make love to me, just like you promised. please", you sob – hips working wilder against his hand and his length
he curses under his breath. "i will, sweetheart. i need to prep you first. will you let me do that?"
"but alpha—"
he flips the two of you over, shutting you up with another smothering kiss, easing you down on the mattress softly, hovering large and broad over you
his eyes on yours are sharp – leaving no room for arguments, thumb tugging at the plush of your bottom lip when you're finally dazed enough not to protest. "just need to taste you, sweetheart. i'll be quick". a teasing smile breaks through his stern expression and you huff playfully
you both know that that is a lie. taehyun likes to take his time with you, nothing with him has ever been "quick". he hums, seeking your approval and you give him a soft nod
that earns you a sweet peck – a peck that becomes open-mouthed kisses, hungry nips and suctions making their way down your neck, your collarbones, your chest. he lingers there again, licking and biting at your hardened, sensitive peaks and supple flesh through the fabric of the lace. he doesn't take the bralette off as you expect, instead he takes the delicate cups' material between his teeth, dragging them to the undersides of your breasts before taking a nipple into his mouth, groaning loud and almost fucked out as he circles his tongue around the bud
you moan out, hands tangling into his hair before he releases your nipple from his mouth, hungrily taking the other into his mouth
your thighs press together at the sensation, chest rising and falling against his depraved ministrations. when he's had his fill and the plush of your breasts are covered in blooming marks and love bites, he works his way lower, creating a scorching little path down your stomach, your belly button to the waistband of your red, lacy panties
he pries your thighs open, settling between them, tongueing and nibbling at the flushed, supple skin, releasing a sound that borders on a growl once more – running his nose over the lace clinging to your center, the tip of it grazing your clit
"fuck, you smell so good", he grits out, canines aching to sink into you
his tongue sweeps out to taste you through the drenched fabric, pulling on it with his teeth, before letting it snap back – creating a lewd, drenched squelch, a sinful sound that has your face warming
taehyun groans low and you gulp
you can't take much more of his teasing
"drove me crazy in that restaurant", he starts, hands tracing charged over your thighs. "just wanted to throw you on that table and take you right there, especially for that fucker to see"
the confession makes your breath hitch. "taehyun—"
he hooks a finger into the center of your panties, pulling the red, darkened material to the side. a groans rumbles through his chest at the sight
"always get so fucking wet for me. you're a fucking dream"
taehyun wastes no time, licking a stripe up your slit
your breathing stutters, "only for you, alpha"
he hums, pleased, as he places a tender kiss on your clit. a hand of yours fists in the sheets, the other settling in his hair. his grip on you tightens, tongue dragging languidly through your folds. "yeah? all mine?", he asks and his tone sends electricity up your spine. he hovers above your pulsing little bundle of nerves, breath tickling you cruelly, making you tingle with anticipation
you whimper needily, giving him a mindless nod
"all yours— oh god, taehyun—"
his tongue flattens, swirling around the swollen bundle of nerves. "still want me to make it quick?"
the teasing lilt in his voice does not go unnoticed to you. you surrender, finally giving him full reign
"anything you want, alpha– do whatever you want with me"
he flashes you a triumphant grin, eyes darkening as he breathes out a chuckle. you truly charm him with your honesty. "thought so. that's my good girl", he whispers, placing a kiss on the tender skin of your loin before he gets to work, draping your legs over his broad shoulders – not minding the dig of your high heels into his shoulder blades one bit
your friends were right
you had spoken with them earlier this week again. according to them, taehyun had made a complete pillow princess out of you
it seemed that where you wanted to give, taehyun would take it a step further and give even more – always putting you above himself. it's almost blasphemous to tell him not to please you, to taste you, to have you feeling good because of him, exactly as you are now
taehyun doesn't think he's ever enjoyed going down on an omega as much as he does you
he tells himself it's the way your head drops back against his pillow. the way you begin to whisper and moan his name over and over again. the way your hand rakes through his hair and the way your body writhes, hips lifting slow against his mouth, matching his rhythm, folds soft, warm and sopping against his tongue – dripping and spilling sweet slick obscenely, already making a mess of the lower half of taehyun's face and the sheets
he grunts and little vibrations ripple through your core. "that's it, sweetheart. feed it to me", he demands, arms curling more solid around your thighs. he works the wet muscle of his tongue against you – slow, languid and deep, applying just the right amount of pressure, savoring the sweet vanilla that pours in rivulets from between your thighs
god, you've missed his mouth. the way he’d suckle and make out with your cunt like he couldn't get enough, like he'd been starved of your taste – and fuck, taehyun feels like he had
you've missed the way he’d get you pulsing and dripping within seconds, tongue dragging heavy and ravenous between your folds and over your clit
the way he relentlessly gave the little bundle of nerves attention, all of the attention you've been craving for, aching for – grunting in satisfaction when your body rewards him with more of your sweet essence
the fucking sound of his lips and tongue working warm and hungry over you, lewd and obscene, only amplifying the pull in your lower belly
the way your blissful little sighs and moans spur him on, wanton and sweet, tumbling uncontrollably from your lips as your hips rock harder. his hands grip firmer on the flesh of your thighs and ass, helping you rock perfectly against his relentless mouth
your eyes roll to the back of your skull, moans turning into whimpers and sobs. "a-alpha, th-that feels so good–", you hiccup, words slurred and jumbled, barely able to form a sentence, choking on a gasp when you open your eyes and lock them with his
they're dark and knowing, because he knows exactly what he's doing to you – just how terrifyingly quick he's making you lose your mind, unable to think about anything but him, his hungry, working mouth and the ample amounts of pleasure he brings you with it
"gonna be a good girl and come all over my tongue?"
you nod rapidly and he smirks against you. "you taste perfect, my sweet little treat", he murmurs before engulfing you again – and the sound of his name on your tongue pitches higher, stuttering around the shaky intakes of air you swallow, desperate to catch the breath he steals from you, to make up for and fill your lungs after every cry his gluttonous mouth draws from you
he only spurs you on, knowing he's going to drag this out and bring you to the edge slowly. taehyun has an appetite you are more than willing to adjust to
you hadn't even tried touching yourself this week. you couldn't do to yourself what taehyun does to you, couldn't pleasure yourself the way he does. you wouldn't be able to mimic the way his mouth engulfs you, wicked and coaxing. the way his groans and grunts send little vibrations through your pussy, pulling tight at your inner thighs, tingling at your spine. how his arms, strong and solid, hold you down, making you take whatever he gives you. the way he keeps you warm, burning, writhing, crying – effortlessly – and how he makes you jolt in surprise when he nips at the softness of your loin or inner thigh, when he dips down to push his tongue past your entrance and his nose bumps into your little bundle of nerves
you gasp – another pretty sound to his ears, squeezing needily around the unforgiving muscle that pushes in and out and in and out, sipping and slurping mouthfuls of your essence
he pulls it back out in favor of taking your sensitive clit into his mouth once more, unable to keep himself away from the bud, suckling and working it expertly with his tongue, opting to slide one, then two digits into you instead
fuck, you had almost forgotten how long they are, how easily they reach all of the sensitive, mouthwatering spots you never could
he works them inside of you with purpose, finding and hooking into that spongy spot with precise come-hither motions that make your hips jump, producing more slick – glossy strings of arousal connecting his knuckles to your entrance every time he pulls those talented fingers out, only to push them back in, stretching you perfectly
your hands grip harder at his hair, harder at the sheets, eliciting prideful hums from your alpha
every hook into your sweet spot is like a hook into your soul, extracting the life force out of you with every pull – always set on taking ownership of you through your pleasure
fucking hell and you give it to him so willingly. taehyun is nothing short of obsessed and smug
"taehyun– fuck– don't stop, please", you beg, chest rising and falling rapidly, head lulling back against his pillow
he doesn't plan on stopping – not until your thighs are trembling around his head and you're pushing him away, not until you're utterly helpless from your high. in fact, he fastens his ministrations, pulling a squeak from your chest
more sweet cries of his name fall from your lips as you cup your breast, pinching the peak between your fingers. the hand gripping and holding your thighs open is quick to reach up, covering the hand that cups your breast, guiding it down to his hair
your back arches deeper and you cry louder, both of your hands now tugging and gripping on the raven strands
the sight is enough to fuel taehyun, the alpha growing hungry to make you cum. he doubles down with his onslaught of pleasure, watching you intently through his lashes. your unsolicited, urgent sobs become music to his ears, pretty cries of the title that you call him and him alone – alpha alpha alpha – making his cock throb painfully
his touch becomes deep, calculated – increasing the pressure of his ministrations just the slightest bit, pressing his tongue and fingers harder against you, eventually slipping in a third and you gasp at the new stretch – the silver of his bracelet jingling with his faster motions
he's absolutely ravenous – sucking your nub into his mouth, rolling his tongue deliberate and deep over it – his jaw flexing and working with the motion, grunting as he wholly makes out with your clit. the lewd sound of your wetness blends with his hungry groans
you pulse uncontrollably and taehyun wants nothing but to sink his throbbing hardness into the flesh of your soaking cunt and feel you cum around him instead
— but he can't do that just yet. he needs you a little warmer, a little wetter, swollen and ready to take all of him
he knows exactly what makes you tick, what turns your brain into mush – what gets you thinking about nothing but reaching that peak
you love when he strokes a little rougher, more persistent against that spot inside, when his tongue picks up speed as you approach your high, when the suckling at your bud grows harder, hungrier
your omega keens with bliss at his unwavering attention to where you've been yearning for him, starving for this
a delicious pull begins to thread tight in your lower belly. you're so wound up, desperate to cum after three days of constant teasing and lingering touches that left you starved. hell, desperate is an understatement
the pleasure begins to drag you under. you writhe wilder, more erratic against his mouth, cries and gasps climbing even higher in pitch
you can barely warn him about your building orgasm, can barely scramble the words together to tell him that you're close – but oh, taehyun knows
he can taste it, feel it – your walls clinging to and sucking his fingers deeper, clamping down for dear life. your toes curl, high heels pushing against his back and nails digging into his scalp
when he doubles down, pressing even harder and deeper, you're a goner
your head feels like it's dipped under water, ears ringing as the band in your lower belly finally snaps
his name is the only thing on your tongue as you let go, feeding taehyun copious amounts the your sweet release he's been thirsting for. there's so much of it, gushing out around his fingers, creating a loud squelch as he continues to pump, prolonging your high
hot bursts of heat coat and wet his mouth and chin and taehyun savors it all – drinking you up and groaning as he licks into your mound
nothing can compare to the feeling of pride and triumph that swells in the alpha's chest after succeeding to have drawn your sweet release from you like this, of having you fall apart like this without yet having given all of himself
he never takes his eyes off of you either – nearly cumming watching you cum, fresh precum leaking plenty from the head of his cock, trapped between his abdomen and the cool bedsheets
taehyun only lets up when your thighs tremble and shake, closing around his head, hands weakly trying to push him away – just the way he had predicted
god, it pains him to detach himself
reluctantly, he draws back – panting heavy, lips parted. strings of your slicky cum connects his lips to your cunt
you sit up on your elbows, watching a droplet form on his bottom lip, no time to drip before he quickly swipes at it with his tongue – eyes blown out and dark on yours
taehyun would spend an eternity making you come with just his tongue and fingers if you'd let him. fuck, he knows if he persuades you enough, he can make you take another round – but right now his omega is needy and pulsing with desire for the rest of him, for all of which he has to offer
he only retracts his working fingers when you tug at his wrist – caressing gentle and soothing over your cunt before lifting them to his mouth, cleaning them off with a groan – the same way he had cleaned off the dessert spoon in the restaurant and you pulse at the sight
soothing hands caress and massage your still quaking flesh. you come down from your high, lightheaded, chest rising and falling with the effort of trying to catch your breath
he peppers chaste kisses along the inside of your thighs
your inner thighs are a mess, core glistening with the evidence of his obsession – swollen and soaked, pushing out more slick with every rhythmic clench. taehyun nearly growls at the sight, tempted to dive back in
he stops himself, mouth worshiping it's way back up your body. you cup his jaw when he hovers over you, wiping away the remaining slick coating his bottom lip and chin with your thumb. his eyes stay locked on yours, lids hooded and sharp, looking almost as fucked out as you. you press the digit into his mouth and he cleans it off with another groan, slotting his hips between yours
"isn't that much better, sweetheart?" he asks, voice like silk bewitching you once more. a loaded and lingering kiss lands against your nape
"y-yes…" you nod, voice still shaky as you huff out air
"wanna make you do that over" kiss "and over" kiss "and over again"
you whimper, thighs trying to squeeze together, but instead, tightening around his waist. his cock slides hot, hard and heavy between your folds and your hips lift at feeling it again – at finally having it inside you, soon
"taehyun, don't tease", you choke out, hands clutching onto him desperately. you shimmy his suit pants down his hips before he kicks it off the rest of the way, kicking off his socks too
he hums, satisfied. sitting up, he drapes your legs over his thighs, taking your hands in his. pressing reverent kisses to each of your palms, he places them flat against his collarbones, fingers curling around your wrists
your eyes follow his lead as he begins to drag them down his chest, over the firm and solid pecs – agonizingly slow. every ridge and dip of hard muscle makes you clench around nothing, cunt quivering against the meaty length which he continues to slide between your folds. he traces your hands down his abs, flexing as your nails graze lightly over them. you moan wantonly at the feel, unable to help yourself as he makes you trace over the defined muscle. your head spins with desire, thighs parting wider for him
"all yours, sweetheart", he hums, letting go of your wrists when he's finally guided you past his adonis belt and his v-lines down to his throbbing cock
it's a searing reminder: that he'll never betray you with another omega like the alpha from your past, that he'll never give himself away to another omega like your ex did. every inch and fibre of his being belongs to you
you've never been this turned on in your life
you wrap both hands around him, working him up and down just like you did earlier
he groans as he watches you, unable to stop his hips from rolling forward, hissing through his teeth as his head lulls back
your breathing stutters at the sight – you need him now
the ache is becoming unbearable. if taehyun doesn't do something this instant, you honestly think you might explode. you're beyond the point of function, doing the only thing you're able to think of: you plead with him, the way you know gets him to cave every time
"taehyun, please", you sob, your hands clutching around his waist and ass, pushing him forward, pulling him closer again and again – anything to hopefully make him slide into you. his cockhead bumps and drags over your clit, making you mewl pathetically. he chuckles, leaning down, voice low and teasing right by your ear. "patience, sweetheart. we said we're taking it slow tonight, remember?"
"please, i just need you inside", you feel tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, glassy as you stare up at him
jungwon never had you begging like this. no, he got straight to the point – but taehyun, he makes you long for it, makes you yearn for it. he builds you up, takes you there slowly, keeps you there and makes sure you feel every second of it. only to bring you to that high again. and then again. it's greedy, an insatiable hunger and thirst for your pleasure. the relentless pursuit of your intoxication and euphoria, until every orgasm belongs to him – wrecking you, ruining you. not just your body, but your mind, your soul. taehyun lives for this – your sweet surrender
but even taehyun has his breaking point
despite his words promoting patience, his hands make quick work of undoing and taking your heels off, pressing careful kisses to each of your ankles
your lacy set of lingerie comes off pretty quickly too, searing touches tracing along your skin as he peels every piece away
he can no longer resist, lowering himself over you, arms like pillars caging you in. his lips seal over yours and you reciprocate without hesitation, humming as you feel his tip prodding your entrance. he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, finally beginning to push into you. your mouth drops open, hands migrating to his shoulders and arms, nails already digging into the skin
"easy, take deep breaths for me, sweetheart", he instructs and you do. "that's it. good girl. just let me in"
your body is no longer your own, yielding to his command in an instant
he works himself in to the hilt. "is this alright?" he asks, eyes searching yours for any sort of discomfort
"more than alright", you reassure him, hands tightening their hold on his arms. "move, please"
his lips sweep yours up once more, beginning to rock into you steady
it's overwhelming at first, but in the best way – and you clench uncontrollably around him, readjusting to his size, your slick walls longing for more, rejoicing and pouring out slick every time he hits home, every time he breaks you in
a sob wracks your chest, suddenly overcome with emotion, fragile and unprotected. "i missed you", you manage. taehyun chuckles, feigning confusion. "missed me? sweetheart, we've been together all week"
taehyun knows well enough what you mean. he just wants to hear you say it, spell it out for him. he loves how easily you admit your need for him, how you never hide it from him. your walls suck him in, body begging him to come closer, deeper
"no, i– i missed having you like this, having you this close. needed you so badly"
his heart clenches at the vulnerable confession. "i know, sweetheart. needed you just as badly", he pushes in harder, breathing out another chuckle. "thought i was going to lose my mind". his hips move with more purpose, feeling your body relax around him, allowing more of him in
his forehead comes to rest on yours. "i've got you now, sweetheart. just let me take care of you, alright?" he cups your face and you nod against his palm. pleased, his lips return to yours and you whimper into his mouth
stuttering breaths, passionate kisses and wanton to deep moans and grunts fill the room as taehyun builds a steadier, more powerful rhythm. soon, the sound of skin slapping against skin blend in too. you moan out as he hits that spot, cunt fluttering around him. he's smug as he takes you in, eyes dazed matching yours. "right there?"
you offer him a breathless nod and a blissed smile, "right there" – you huff out a laugh and you moan louder when he thrusts harder against it, arms curling around the wings of his broad back, pulling him flush against you – ankles crossing behind his back
god, taehyun is large – already pressing you into the mattress with the weight and force of his hips, knocking the air from your lungs with every demanding push forward, cock splitting you apart at the seams. he's an undeniable force of strength and power, pure muscle wrapped in honeyed skin and you surrender yourself to it willingly – the dominance and intensity of him
your head falls back against the pillow, unable to contain the sounds he already begins to draw from you
"sound so pretty for me, you're so fucking beautiful", taehyun grunts and whispers your name like a curse under his breath. he mouths hungrily at any and every part of skin you expose to him, aching to become one with you – as if being inside of you like this simply isn't enough. his hands on the sheets grip harder as he strokes deep, then deeper
"taehyun, holy fuck—", you cry out and it only spurs him to move a little faster
"can't get enough of you", he growls against your lips, almost to himself. he's starting to lose grip on his last sliver of control, breathing you in like a drug. "you have no idea what you do to me", he thrusts harder and you gasp. "wanna crawl into your skin, fucking live inside of you"
your cunt pulses obscenely at his words, mind hitting a blank with every angled rut
"you feel fucking perfect", his brows furrow, that sexy, concentrated frown forming on his lips, like he's barely holding back, like he can't quite control just how deep he wants to get
your cries pitch higher with every thrust, the repeated wet friction already making you lose your mind. god, you needed this – needed him so bad – getting lost in his words and his touch so easily
every tuck of your hair behind your ear, every gentle caress of his thumb on your cheek, every reverent kiss, every push and rock of his heavy length as he bottoms out again and again only makes you fall harder, effortlessly bringing you to the edge of another earth shattering orgasm tonight. he whispers praises and sweet nothings to you as you cry out his name, lamenting it to the heavens, without care who hears
your hand curls around the back of his head, meeting him halfway in a kiss as you let go, as you surrender all of yourself to him and you flutter around his cock
he allows you to hold him close, to linger against his lips and breathe him in, just until you whine for more
sitting up, he takes one of your legs and settles it over his shoulder, hooking your ankle on the broad expanse. he kisses and tongues messily up your inner thigh, mouthing at your calf. bewitched and almost drunk with lust, his tongue lulls out and he licks a stripe up the sole of your foot before taking your toes into his mouth
you gasp, eyes snapping open and he groans as you watch the lewd act – lapping and sucking between them, licking and biting at the inside of your ankle and every bit of skin his mouth can reach
holy fuck, your omega wails, you've never seen him this hungry before
"fuck, i'd eat you up if i could", he pants, voice gruff – mouth not stopping its worship as he drives into you harder
– and you believe him, the display of hunger making your head spin once more, on the brink of losing your mind. the tickling sensation sends tingles that shoot straight to your clit. his cock doesn't relent against that spot inside either – and because taehyun knows exactly what you need, he places a skilled thumb on the slick-coated little bundle of nerves, drawing perfect, mouthwatering circles over it
your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your head tips back, wanton cries of his name falling from your lips like a mantra
another sloppy kiss is placed to your ankle then your calf before he leans down, pressing your knee against your chest in a mating press – folding you in half. the angle only makes him press deeper, eliciting more wails of his name out of you
gone, brainless, pliant – those are the only words fit to describe you when taehyun takes you like this, when he allows his alpha to take full course
your mouth forms the perfect little o-shape and taehyun watches you intently, thrusting against that spot so good, tears gather and spill from the corners of your eyes
"you gonna cum for me again, sweetheart?" he provokes
"yes! fuck, yes, taehyun!" you sob, body writhing beneath his. "please, don't stop"
he groans deep and your eyes open – the look in his eyes are enough to do it – knowing, hypnotic and disarming, piercing through you as you let go for him, a whimper of his name tumbling sweetly from your lips
his head dips down, stealing your last bit of breath as he kisses you, intense and passionate and your hand tangles into his hair. his pace doesn't falter, in fact he pushes deeper, grunting into your mouth as he picks up his pace – length punching against that gummy spot unbearably good, almost cruel
your pulsating cunt only gushes wetter, warmer around the unforgiving length, protesting every time he pulls out, crying in relief with slick when he pushes back in
his hand abandons your sensitive nub, fisting in the pillow next to your head. "oh, taehyun—"
"feels so good when you cum around me, sweetheart. wanna make you cum like this all night"
oh god
you know taehyun isn't one to bluff
the alpha loves watching you finish, loves watching your soul leave your body, like you're handing it right over to him. your eyes, glassy and vulnerable staring into his or fixed at the back of your skull. your hands clawing at any part of his body, his arms, his chest, even his ass just to keep him right where you need him, always deep. he loves feeling the way your body trembles, fluttering around him, making you ascend as you desperately grasp onto the last bits of your high – a high of which taehyun is happy to bring you to, over and over again
he finds what he loves the most might be the aftermath – when your eyes regain focus and they begin pleading and he knows exactly what you need in that moment – him, closer. hands clawing and grabbing at him to draw him in, to feel his skin against yours, his lips against yours, every possibile inch of him lodged deep inside. he's obsessed with the satisfied sighs and sobs you let out, clinging to him the second he does comes closer
it's him that you need when you're coming down, it's him that you need to hold you in this fragile little time frame. he's made a mental note that you especially love and melt when he completely engulfs you, surrounds you, consumes you – until you're nothing but another extension of him, until you don't know where you start and he ends
you feel that pressure building up inside of your core once again, but this time, it feels different
he takes your ankle from where it's hooked over his shoulder, settling your thigh around his waist again. his hot chest presses flush against yours and you bury your face into his shoulder, latching onto the skin glistening with sweat
the room is laced with the scent of sweet vanilla that curls into citrusy mandarin, coated in sapphire – deep, oceanic and blue
your nails on his skin don't rake, they simply graze. your hand in his hair doesn't grip, you simply hold onto him. he cups the back of your head, coaxing you away from his shoulder to look into his eyes instead. you watch him survey you, something weighing heavy on his heart, on his tongue – you can tell, especially when his eyes become doe and shiny
"taehyun—"
a whisper of reverence, soft like silk, barely audible slips from his lips
"i love you"
your heart stops – because he had said it like a promise, a confirmation not only for you, but for himself, too. because it's the first time someone that you hold dear had said it and meant it – even more so like he couldn't hold it back, like it had been consuming him
the world around you stills. it's just you and him, in this room, in this pocket of time, finally becoming one, finally fulfilling every last thing you had asked for in prayer, long before he had stepped into your life and you had crossed paths
you don't stop the tears that have gathered from falling. they cascade warm and reverent down your temples
"i love you"
it comes easy, breathless and yet with so much weight, taking the rest of the air in your lungs with it
his breathing falters. "will you let me have you, sweetheart?" he asks, tentatively, as though you're fragile, like you might break if he speaks above a whisper
the look in his eyes – that of pure desperation – wrecks you, tugs hard at your heartstrings. as if he would die if you said no, if you refused him, if you said anything other than—
"yes", you whisper back, cupping his face – the easiest yes of your life. "a million times yes. all of me— have all of me, taehyun"
a deep drive into your walls punches the remaining air out of your lungs, stroking you into oblivion
"and you'll be all mine – as i'll be all yours?"
"yes! yes, taehyun!" you cry as best as your voice allows you to, your thighs beginning to tremble again, the fire between them becoming too much to bare – matching the fire in your heart and the heat that courses over his skin. "i want this. i want you. more than anything i've ever wanted in my entire life, please"
his breathing stutters again, almost in awed disbelief. "then go ahead, sweetheart. claim me. make me yours"
– and then he's baring the column of his neck to you and every bell in your soul begins to ring as you nuzzle into the skin, right below his scent gland. you kiss him there first, once then twice, drawing a shaky exhale from him and his adams apple bobs
when you finally sink your teeth into him, he releases a sound similar to a whimper and a groan – and he pushes as deep as he possibly could into your yearning warmth, harder, deeper with every stroke
you moan into him, nails creating indents on his skin. when your omega settles and you finally retract, you soothe him with sweet touches of your lips, touches that are interrupted by your cries with every push of his length through your walls
he drives harder, sheer heat coursing over his skin, making its way down to his loins, a painful throb pounding inside of you
his alpha surges forward now more than ever, pushing to come forward and take control
every ounce of devotion that he's felt for you from the moment he first met you finally simmers to the surface and breaks open within his chest – like keeping it inside any longer than this is agonizing, unbearable – pushing up like pins and needles against his throat. his brows knit together at the feeling, lips finding yours as he whispers against them, over and over again, "i love you" kiss "i love you" kiss "i love you" – like a mantra, a vow or a song he wants you to remember
your entire being ignites, heart and soul soaring when his mouth finally lowers to your neck, hand cupping the back of your head, threading through your hair
you bare your neck to him, offering him all of the access he needs
"sweetheart?" he asks permission one last time, canines and fangs aching, shiny with saliva
"please"
that's the last plea that escapes you before he does it – that which you've been yearning for your entire life. the one thing only he could fulfill with you, the thing you didn't want any other alpha doing to you
nothing would ever compare to the feeling of taehyun's teeth finally sinking into your skin
it's accompanied by a groan so passionate you almost mistake it for pain
goosebumps arise over yours and his skin, heat surging from where his teeth are nestled in the nape of your neck, right down to where you're connected – to where his knot has already started to form at the base of his cock
pain quickly eases into pleasure
your bodies soar and the feverish tension, the furnace between your thighs becomes unbearable, bursting open as you release around him and he releases into you – as you become one
a hand grips hard at your flesh, lifting your hips to take more of him – a meek attempt at preventing his teeth from biting down harder, growling into the flesh
his alpha huffs and puffs with pride, satiated at last after having held back for so long. his mouth begrudgingly detaches itself from your skin, opting to soothe you with his tongue and the tenderness of his lips instead. you are but a shivering body in his hold, a thing of flesh glistening with sweat and enchantment
you feel like you're still floating, entranced – and you hold onto taehyun just a little tighter
a series of reverent "i love you"s are confessed to the skin of your nape as he slows to a stop, arms wrapping around you and holding you close to him – the pounding of your hearts in both your chests now in sync
your hands rake through his hair, humming and stuttering as he continues to tongue and kiss at the new mark – the new brand, the one that announced you as his
his omega. his mate. the keeper of his heart
you bask in this – your scent and his immediately becoming tainted and fused with the other's. the two of you shimmer under the lamp- and moonlight as yo.u both gather your breath, wrapped around each other
taehyun's nose drags along your scent gland, sniffling thick amounts of sweet vanilla that is now permanently carries traces of him and something in the atmosphere shifts
he has gone still, almost too still
he's still tongueing and kissing at the mark, like he can't get enough and god, it's still sensitive, but it just feels too good to tell him to stop. your walls still pulse with the aftermath, choking and milking him good
it's taehyun, you tell yourself, he's just making sure the wound will heal well
you're ready to detangle yourself from him, hands ghosting over his skin
that's when you feel it: the throb of his cock as it stirs back to life, lodged so very deep inside of you
your heart jumps in your throat when you hear it—
was that a grunt or was that a growl?
...to be continued ➛ part 6
scznotes: ooo things are getting hot in here! >< i'd love to know all of your thoughts and all your favourite lines! don't be shy to comment or reblog! (begging after putting months into this 0‐0)
synopsis: student council president choi beomgyu is the golden boy of school. perfect grades, perfect smile, perfect reputation. he's untouchable, unapproachable, and unbearably pretty. you've never exchanged more than two words with him until you borrow his laptop during a group project and discover his secret side hustle: he's one of the most popular camboys on the platform.
warnings: nsfw, camboy!beomgyu, explicit sexual content, masturbation (both solo and mutual), voyeurism/exhibitionism themes, dirty talk, corruption kink, power dynamics, student council, reader is kind of a stalker at first (with consent established later), unprotected sex, slight degradation/praise mix, beomgyu is a bit of a brat and a switch, mentions of all txt members, non-idol au.
the first time you see choi beomgyu cry, it's not in the hallways of school where he reigns as student council president with that practiced smile. it's through a screen, his face flushed as he whines, tears tracking down his cheeks while he works himself open with three fingers buried deep.
you're supposed to be working on your ap literature presentation. that's what you told yourself when you opened his laptop, when the password autofill betrayed him, when you found the folder labeled "tax documents" that definitely doesn't contain tax documents.
you should close it. you should absolutely close it.
instead, you watch.
beomgyu—choi beomgyu, who gave the welcome speech at orientation with such poise that half the junior class developed instant crushes—whimpers into his camera and calls himself a desperate little slut who needs to be watched to get off.
"fuuck," he breathes, arching his back, "fuck, you guys are so quiet tonight. tell me what you want. tell me how you want me to ruin myself."
the chat explodes with tips. hundreds of dollars flooding in with each request. beomgyu moans like he's being paid to, which he is, and spreads his legs wider, showing off the stretch of his hole around his fingers.
you realize you've been holding your breath.
"want me to add another?" he asks, voice pitched sweet, nothing like the measured, articulate tone he uses when addressing the student body. "i can take it. i can take so much for you. i'm so fucking full already but i need more, i always need more—"
your phone buzzes against your thigh and you nearly scream. it's a text from yeonjun, asking where you are, if you're still coming to soobin's party tonight. you ignore it. you can't look away from the screen.
beomgyu adds a fourth finger and sobs.
you don't know how long you watch. time becomes meaningless. you learn things about him that no amount of student council meetings could reveal: the way he likes his nipples pinched hard enough to bruise, the specific phrase—"good boy" that makes him cum untouched, spilling over his own stomach with a wail that sounds like it costs him something precious.
after, when he's cleaned up and the stream has ended, he sits in the glow of his desk lamp and reads the chat messages with a small, genuine smile. he thanks people by username. he remembers details about their lives, asks how their exams went, wishes them goodnight with such sincerity that your chest aches.
you close the laptop.
you don't sleep that night.
"you're staring again," taehyun says, sliding into the seat beside you at lunch. he's got his physics textbook open, already working through problems while eating an apple. "you've been weird for three days."
"haven't," you mumble, stabbing at your salad.
"you have," kai agrees from across the table, mouth full of sandwich. "you're all..." he makes a vague gesture around his face. "intense. like you're plotting something."
"maybe i am."
"ominous," yeonjun says, dropping into the seat on your other side with his characteristic grace. he's got that look, the one that means he's going to meddle. "does it involve a certain student council president? because soobin told me he saw you two talking in the library yesterday."
"we weren't talking," you say. "he was retrieving a book and i was... nearby."
"stalking," taehyun translates.
"observing," you correct.
the truth is, you've been observing a lot. beomgyu in his natural habitat is fascinating—a performance of perfection so seamless you wonder if he even knows he's performing anymore. he holds doors and remembers names and defuses conflicts with such effortless charm that it feels almost scripted, but it is. how he acts in school is far different from when he’s on camera.
you want to know which one is real. you want to know if either of them is.
"he's having a party," yeonjun says casually. "small thing. council members only, apparently, but soobin's going because he's vice president. i could get you in."
"why would you do that?"
yeonjun shrugs, "because you're miserable and it's entertaining. also, kai owes me twenty dollars and i want to see you make a fool of yourself."
"thanks.”
"anytime."
the party is at beomgyu's house, which turns out to be less of a house and more of a minor estate. you arrive with yeonjun and soobin, clutching a bottle of cheap wine you definitely shouldn't have brought, wearing a dress that feels like way too tight.
"relax," soobin murmurs as you hover in the doorway. he's got his vice president badge still clipped to his jacket, which is both adorable and deeply on-brand. "he doesn't bite."
you think of beomgyu on camera, teeth sunk into his own lip hard enough to draw blood as he rides his fingers. you think of the way he begs, the way he sounds when he's desperate.
"pretty sure he does," you say.
soobin gives you a strange look but yeonjun is already dragging you inside, into the warm press of bodies and music.
you spot beomgyu immediately. he's in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, laughing at something one of the senior council members said. he looks soft like this, approachable.
he catches you staring.
you don't look away. you've spent too many hours watching him through a screen to pretend shyness now. you hold his gaze until something flickers in his expression—recognition, confusion, then a slow realization that makes his smile falter.
he knows. he doesn't know how, but he knows you know.
you raise your wine bottle in a mock toast. he swallows hard, adam's apple bobbing, and turns back to his conversation with intensity.
the game, as they say, is on.
you find his bedroom by accident, or maybe by intuition. it's at the end of a long hallway, unmistakable by the "student council president" plaque on the door that seems to be there ironically. the room itself is surprisingly messy—clothes draped over chairs, textbooks stacked, a desk with dual monitors that makes your stomach flip with recognition.
you shouldn't be in here. you're definitely going to get caught.
you're about to leave when you hear footsteps in the hall. panic freezes you in place. the door opens.
beomgyu stands there, backlit by the hallway light, and for a moment you see the mask slip entirely. he looks exhausted. he looks like a boy who carries too many secrets.
"you shouldn't be here," he says, and his voice is different—rougher, more honest.
"i know what you do," you say, because you've never been good at subtlety.
he goes very still. "what do you think i do?"
"you cry pretty," you say, "when you're fucking yourself open for strangers."
the silence stretches between you. its tense.
"get out," he whispers.
"make me."
he laughs, then, a sharp, startled thing. "you have no idea what you're playing with."
"then show me."
something breaks in him. you see it happen—the moment he stops being student council president choi beomgyu and becomes something rawer, hungrier. he crosses the room in three strides and backs you against his desk, caging you with his arms.
"you want to know what i do?" he breathes, and his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. "you want to see the real me, is that it? little stalker?"
"i want to know if you're real at all," you admit.
he studies your face like he's memorizing it. "i'm real," he says quietly. "i'm real when i'm on camera. that's the only time i am."
"show me."
he hesitates. you can see the war in him, the habit of hiding, fighting against something else, something desperate and lonely. then he reaches past you, opens his laptop, pulls up the streaming platform.
"my show starts in ten minutes," he says. "usually i prep. get in the right headspace. but you..." he laughs. "you've already seen me at my worst. might as well see me at my best."
"you were never at your worst," you say. "you were beautiful."
he looks at you like you've struck him. "don't," he warns. "don't say things like that if you don't mean them."
"i mean them."
he turns away, busying himself with camera angles and lighting, but you can see his hands shaking. "you can stay," he says, "but you have to be quiet. and you can't... you can't touch me. not on camera. the viewers don't know about you."
"do they know about the real you?"
he pauses. "no," he admits. "they know a version. a character."
"which one am i getting?"
he looks over his shoulder at you, and his smile is complicated, layered with things you can't name. "tonight? i don't know. i haven't decided yet."
the stream goes live.
he's different with you in the room. you can tell immediately—there's a self-consciousness to his movements, a hesitation where there used to be seamless performance. the chat notices too, asking if he's okay, if something's wrong.
"just distracted tonight," he says, and his voice has dropped into that honeyed register you recognize. "thinking about someone."
the chat explodes. "who?" they want to know. "tell us." "is it a boy?" "a girl?" "someone we know?"
"someone who shouldn't be here," beomgyu says, and his eyes flick to where you're sitting on his bed, just out of frame. "someone who saw me before i put on the show. saw me... raw."
he unbuttons his shirt slowly, revealing the pale stretch of his torso. you know what he looks like beneath the clothes now, know the constellation of moles on his body, the way his stomach muscles flutter when he's close.
"they're watching me right now," he continues, addressing the camera but looking at you. "from the dark. can't you see them in my eyes? i'm performing for two audiences tonight, and one of them is real."
the tips start flowing in. beomgyu smirks, that practiced expression that doesn't reach his eyes, and slides his hand down his stomach.
"what should i do for you tonight?" he asks the chat. "i'm feeling... exposed. like i want to be seen all the way through."
requests flood in. beomgyu scans them, cherry-picking the ones that suit his mood, and slowly, methodically, he begins to unravel.
you've seen this before. you shouldn't be affected. but watching it live, watching the sweat bead on his forehead and his chest heave with real breaths, is different from on a screen. he's warm in front of you, radiating heat and need, and when he whines it's not through speakers but directly into the air you share.
"need more," he gasps, working himself open with practiced efficiency. "need to be full, need to be watched, need—" he breaks off with a sob, and you realize with a start that he's crying, real tears, not the performative ones from before. "fuck, i can't, not with you here, i can't—"
the chat is confused, asking what's wrong, if he's hurt, if they should call someone.
"no," he chokes out, "no, i'm fine, i just—" he looks at you, really looks at you, and his expression crumples. "i can't fake it tonight. i can't be what they want when you're sitting there watching me actually fall apart."
you stand up. you don't mean to. your body moves without permission, crossing the space between you, stepping into the frame of his camera.
the chat goes wild.
"who is she"
"omg is that his girlfriend"
"she's pretty"
"wait is this part of the show"
beomgyu stares up at you, eyes wide and wet and terrified. "what are you doing?"
"being real with you," you say, and you reach out, thumb brushing the tears from his cheek. "turn it off."
"i can't, i have—this is my job, i—"
"turn it off," you repeat, "or i'll do it for you."
your hand hovers over the keyboard. beomgyu makes a sound like he’s hurt and reaches past you, ending the stream with a violent click. the room goes silent except for his ragged breathing.
"do you know how much money i just lost?" he whispers.
"i don't care."
"you should. this pays for my car, my clothes, my—fuck." he buries his face in his hands. "you've ruined everything. you've seen me, you've really seen me, and now you know i'm just—i'm just a whore who needs strangers to tell him he's worth something."
you kneel in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "i know you're the student council president who stays three hours after school to make sure the homecoming decorations are perfect. i know you're the guy who bought kai coffee when he was crying about his audition last month. i know you're real, beomgyu, and i don't care about the rest."
"you should," he says, but his voice is small.
"why?"
"because i'm broken," he admits, and the words seem to cost him everything. "because i need this, need to be watched and wanted and consumed, because without it i'm just—i'm just empty. i'm a performance with no actor underneath."
you take his hand, place it over your heart. "feel that? i'm real. you're real. this is real."
he shudders, a full-body tremor that racks through him like a fever. "touch me," he begs, "please, just—i need to feel something that isn't mediated by a screen. i need you to touch me like you mean it."
you kiss him.
it's clumsy, desperate, nothing like the polished intimacy of his streams. he makes a noise against your lips, and suddenly his hands are everywhere—tugging at your dress, your hair, pulling you closer like he's drowning and you're air.
"wait," you breathe, "beomgyu, wait—"
"don't," he whimpers, "don't make me stop, i can't, i need—"
"shh," you soothe, "i'm not stopping. i just want to look at you."
you push him back onto the bed, following him down. up close, he's overwhelming—skin flushed pink, eyes glassy with tears and want, chest heaving. he looks wrecked already and you've barely touched him.
"you're so beautiful," you tell him, and you mean it. "not because you're performing. just because you are."
he sobs, turning his face away. "don't. don't be nice to me, i can't take it, i'll—"
"you'll what?"
"i'll fall in love with you," he confesses, voice barely audible. "i'm already halfway there. i've been watching you too, you know. in the halls. at lunch. wondering what your voice sounds like when you're not just answering questions in class."
you kiss his throat, his collarbone, the hollow of his throat where his pulse beats. "you can fall," you whisper. "i'll catch you."
he unravels after that. he pulls at your clothes with shaking hands, helping you strip until you're bare above him, then freezes.
"you're—" he swallows hard. "you're perfect."
"so are you."
"i'm not, i'm—" he gestures at himself, at his exposed body, his flushed skin. "i'm a mess."
"let me clean you up," you say, and you slide down his body, taking him into your mouth before he can protest.
the sound he makes is inhuman. his back arches off the bed, hands flying to your hair, not guiding but just holding on, grounding himself. "fuck, fuck, fuck, that's—oh god, you don't have to, you don't—"
you hum around him, and he screams.
it's different from his performative cam noises—higher, more broken, completely uncontrolled. his thighs trembling, and when you look up you can see him watching you with an expression of absolute wonder, like he can't believe you're real.
"gonna cum," he warns, "gonna cum, please, i can't—"
you don't pull back. you take him deeper, swallowing around him, and he comes with a cry that sounds like your name, spilling down your throat in hot pulses. you swallow everything, licking him clean while he whines and twitches, oversensitive and overwhelmed.
"come here," he pants, pulling you up his body. "come here, let me—i want to make you feel good too."
you straddle his waist, feeling the hard line of him already stirring again against your thigh. "you don't have to—"
"i want to," he insists. "let me show you what i can do when i'm not acting. let me show you how i actually want to touch someone."
he flips you onto your back, settling between your legs with a confidence that makes your breath catch. he kisses down your body with reverence—your breasts, your stomach, the curve of your hip—pausing when he reaches where you're wet and wanting.
"can i?" he asks, looking up at you with those dark, dark eyes.
"please."
he doesn't tease. he simply tastes you like he's starving, like he's been waiting his whole life for this, and the reality of choi beomgyu between your thighs is infinitely better than any fantasy. he's enthusiastic, messy, completely focused on your reactions. when he finds something that makes you gasp, he does it again, and again, until you're clutching his hair and grinding against his face.
"you taste so good," he mumbles, the vibration making you whimper. "so good, so sweet, i've thought about this, thought about what you'd feel like, taste like—"
"beomgyu," you gasp, "beomgyu, i'm gonna—"
"let go," he encourages, looking up at you with his chin shining with your arousal. "cum for me, pretty girl. let me feel you fall apart."
you do. you come with his name breaking across your lips like a prayer, your whole body shaking with the force of it. he rides you through it, gentle now, soft presses of his tongue that prolong the pleasure until you're twitching away, too sensitive.
he crawls up your body, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his lips. "you okay?" he asks, searching your face.
"more than okay," you breathe. "i want you inside me."
he groans, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. "you're going to kill me."
"but what a way to go."
he laughs, shaky and genuine, and reaches for his nightstand. you watch him roll the condom on with trembling fingers, and when he positions himself at your entrance, he pauses.
"are you sure?" he asks, and he's so careful, so calm, that your heart aches.
"yes," you whisper, "yes, beomgyu, i'm sure."
he pushes in slowly, filling you inch by inch, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. by the time he's fully seated, he's shaking again, sweat beading on his forehead.
"you feel—" he swallows hard. "you feel incredible. you're so warm, so tight, i can feel you pulsing around me—"
"move," you beg, wrapping your legs around his waist. "please, beomgyu, move."
he does. he sets a rhythm that's unhurried, deep, nothing like the frantic pace of him by himself. each thrust is deliberate, angled to hit that spot inside you. he keeps his eyes locked on yours, refusing to look away, and the intimacy of it is almost too much—being seen, truly seen, by someone who spends his life hiding.
"i've got you," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. "i've got you, you're safe, you're perfect—"
"you too," you gasp, "you're perfect, you're so good, beomgyu—"
he makes that sound, the one you know from his streams, that broken keen of overwhelming pleasure. but this time it's for you, only you, and the knowledge sends you spiraling toward the edge again.
"close," you warn him, "i'm so close—"
"me too," he pants, "together? can we—"
"yes," you cry, "yes, together—"
he reaches between you, thumb finding your clit, and that's it—you come apart beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you with devastating force. he follows seconds later, burying his face in your neck and groaning long and low as he spills into the condom, his hips stuttering.
for a long moment, you just breathe together. he stays inside you, not wanting to break the connection, pressing soft kisses to your throat, your jaw, anywhere he can reach.
"hi," he whispers finally.
you laugh, breathless. "hi."
"that was—" he shakes his head. "i don't have words. i've never—i've never done that with anyone. the real thing, i mean. not performing."
"i know," you say, stroking his hair. "i could tell. it was better."
"yeah?"
"yeah. no performance. just you."
he pulls back to look at you, and his expression is so vulnerable, so open, that it takes your breath away. "i want to do this again," he says. "not just the sex. the... the being real. with you."
"you're asking me to be your girlfriend?"
"i'm asking you to be my secret," he says, and then winces. "that sounds terrible. i mean—i mean i want to know you the way you know me. all of me. the parts i show the world and the parts i don't."
"and the parts you show the camera?"
he blushes, the color spreading down his neck and chest. "those too, if you want. i mean, you could—if you wanted to watch, or even—" he bites his lip. "you could be in the room. off-camera. or—i don't know. i'm getting ahead of myself."
"i like the idea," you say softly. "of being your secret. of knowing the real you."
he smiles, and it's the first genuine smile you've seen from him. "then it's a deal?"
"it's a deal."
he kisses you, slow and sweet, and you can feel him stirring inside you again, already ready for round two. you groan against his mouth.
"again? already?"
"you inspire me," he murmurs, rolling his hips to prove his point.
"insatiable."
"only for you."
after, when you're both exhausted and tangled in his sheets, he pulls out his phone and shows you his streaming account. the notifications are insane—hundreds of messages asking about the mysterious girl, if he's okay, when he's coming back.
"what are you going to tell them?" you ask.
"the truth," he says, "or some version of it. that i found something real. that i'm taking a break to figure out what that means."
"are you? taking a break?"
he looks at you, and his expression is soft, fond, completely unguarded. "maybe. or maybe i'll start a couples channel." he winks, and you shove him, laughing.
"pervert."
"you like it."
you can't argue with that.
monday at school, everything is different and nothing is. beomgyu still walks the halls with his perfect posture, his perfect smile, his perfect reputation intact. he still holds doors and remembers names.
but now, when he passes you in the hallway, he lets his hand brush yours. when he sees you at lunch, he winks—just a tiny flicker of his eye that only you would notice. and after school, when the building empties out, he pulls you into the student council office and kisses you against the desk where he signs attendance reports, his hands roaming under your skirt while he whispers filthy things in your ear.
"you're terrible," you gasp as he marks your neck with his teeth. "someone could walk in."
"let them," he breathes, "let them see what a good boy i am for you."
you come apart with his fingers inside you and his name on your lips, and when you open your eyes he's watching you with that same expression of wonder, like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen.
"tonight," he whispers, "come over tonight. i'm going to stream, and i want you there. in the room. in the frame, if you're comfortable."
"you want to show me off?"
"i want to show them what real looks like," he corrects. "i want them to see me with someone who knows me. all of me."
"okay," you say, "okay, i'll be there."
he kisses you once more, soft and sweet, and then he pulls away, smoothing his clothes back into place.
that night, you sit on his bed while he sets up the camera. he looks nervous, fidgeting with his lighting, checking his angles.
"hey," you say, and he looks over. "you're going to be amazing. just be yourself."
"which self?"
"all of them," you say. "i love all of them."
he stares at you, eyes wide, and then he crosses the room in two strides and kisses you hard enough to bruise. "i love you too," he breathes against your mouth. "i know it's fast, i know it's crazy, but i—"
"i know," you say. "me too."
he pulls back, smiling that real smile, the one that's just for you. "ready?"
"ready."
he hits go live.
"hey everyone," he says, and his voice is warm, confident, completely genuine. "i'm back. and i brought someone with me. someone who knows my secrets. someone who makes me want to be real."
he holds out his hand. you take it, stepping into the frame.
the chat explodes. tips flood in. but beomgyu isn't looking at the screen anymore. he's looking at you, only you, and his smile is the truest thing you've ever seen.
"this is her," he says softly. "my dirty little secret. and i'm never letting her go."
he kisses you while hundreds of strangers watch, and for the first time, you understand. this isn't about hiding. it's about being seen. and now, finally, you both are.
a/n: thank you for reading! beomgyu is a mess but he's a mess who deserves love and also to be absolutely ruined on camera. if you want a part two where they explore the couples streaming dynamic let me know ^//^ also yes soobin definitely knows and is just waiting for beomgyu to tell him, yeonjun has already figured it out and is taking bets on how long until they get caught, taehyun is confused but supportive, and kai just wants to know if this means he gets free premium access (he does). thanks again for the request! ♡
synopsis: beomgyu suddenly develops the habit of snacking right before every schedule, leaving behind smudged lipstick, ruined lip tint, and endless excuses to visit his favorite makeup artist for yet another touch-up. after the seventh “accident” in a single day, you begin to wonder if he’s really that hungry—or if he just likes having an excuse to see you.
warnings/tags: beomgyu refers the reader as “noona”, teasing, fluff with a bit of smut, possessive behavior, age gap, power imbalance, making out, implied sexual activity, flirty beomgyu. probably missing some tags and this isn’t proofread.
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the first time it happens, you genuinely believe it's an accident.
you're backstage at music bank, hands full of brushes and makeup supplies, when beomgyu appears in your station doorway with that sheepish grin you've learned to read like it’s a second language. his lower lip is smeared with something dark—chocolate, you realize, as he gets closer, the careful gradient of the berry-toned tint you'd spent twenty minutes perfecting is completely destroyed.
"noona," he whines, already settling into your chair without being asked, "i got hungry…”
you sigh, reaching for a cotton pad and makeup remover. "you know we have thirty minutes until pre-recording. right?"
"i know, but the catering had those little chocolate pies and i couldn't resist." he tilts his chin up obediently as you grip his jaw gently to inspect the damage. his skin is warm under your fingers, slightly flushed from rushing back from the green room. "sorry."
"it's fine." you're lying. it's not fine—you're going to have to reapply the base around his mouth, redo the lip line, blend the tint all over again. but he's looking at you with those big brown eyes, all soft and apologetic, and you feel your irritation melting like the chocolate still clinging to the corner of his mouth. "just... try to be more careful, okay?"
"i will," he promises. "you're the best, you know that?"
you duck your head to hide your smile, focusing on cleaning him up.
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the second time is two days later.
inkigayo this time, a different venue, a different look—coral lips, sun-kissed skin, the concept styling calling for something fresh and summery. you're packing your kit when you hear the familiar shuffle of shoes against carpet.
"don't tell me," you say without looking up.
"i was weak," beomgyu announces, and when you do look up, sure enough, there's a telltale smudge of cheese dust, you realize with horror—across his upper lip. the gradient is ruined. again.
"beomgyu." you can't help the whine in your voice. "we don't have time for this. you're on in fifteen minutes."
"i'll be fast," he promises, already hopping into the chair. he catches your wrist as you reach for a wipe, thumb brushing deliberately over your pulse point. "you're always so good to me, noona. i really appreciate it."
something in his tone makes you pause, but then he's releasing you, closing his eyes, presenting his face for repair like the good client he usually is. you push the strange flutter in your chest aside and get to work.
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the third time, you start keeping track.
it's a photoshoot. concept photos for the new album, which means the looks are more elaborate, more precious, more expensive in terms of time and perfection. you've just finished beomgyu's second outfit change, a delicate dewy look with glossy lips that took forty minutes to perfect, when he returns from the craft services table with a rice cake halfway to his mouth and red bean paste smeared across his cheek.
"beomgyu!" the other stylists turn to look. you feel your face heat with embarrassment, with frustration, with something else you can't quite name. "what are you doing?"
"i'm hungry," he says simply, like that explains everything. like he didn't just destroy an hour of your work. he doesn't even look sorry this time. there's something playful in his expression, something almost challenging. "aren't you going to fix it?"
you fix it. of course you fix it. it's your job, and he's your responsibility, and besides… his skin is soft under your fingertips, and he smells like vanilla and something uniquely him, and when you lean in close to reapply the lip gloss, his breath ghosts warm against your cheek.
"all better," you murmur, stepping back.
his eyes open slowly, heavy-lidded, and he runs his tongue over his freshly-painted lower lip in a way that makes your stomach tighten. "thanks, noona. i knew i could count on you."
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the fourth time, you start to suspect.
it's a radio schedule, early morning, everyone bleary-eyed and running on coffee and adrenaline. you've given beomgyu a simple look: tinted lip balm, barely-there base, something natural for the visual radio broadcast. you're organizing your station when you feel a presence behind you.
"don't turn around," he says softly, and there's something in his voice that makes you freeze.
"beomgyu—"
"i got hungry again."
you turn anyway, and there he is, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. his lips are smeared with strawberry jam, sticky and sweet, but completely destroyed, and he's looking at you like you're the only person in the room.
"you're doing this on purpose," you accuse, but your voice comes out quieter than you intended.
"am i?" he tilts his head, all innocent curiosity, but there's a dimple forming in his left cheek that only appears when he's trying not to smile. "maybe i just have a big appetite."
"for snacks?"
"for..." he lets the word hang, gaze dropping to your mouth before returning to your eyes. "for certain things."
your heart is beating against your chest. the radio studio is small, cramped, full of staff and equipment and the constant threat of someone walking in, but beomgyu is looking at you like he doesn't care about any of it. like he'd let the whole world see.
"sit down," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. "i'll fix it."
he obeys, but as you lean in with a cotton pad, his hand comes up to circle your wrist—not stopping you, just holding you there, thumb stroking the sensitive skin.
"your hands are cold," he observes.
"it's early."
"you should warm them up." his eyes are dark, intense, nothing like the playful boy who'd whined about chocolate. "i know a good way."
"beomgyu—"
"after the schedule," he says, releasing you as suddenly as he'd grabbed you, leaving you unsteady and breathless. "come find me. i'll be... hungry."
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the fifth time, you don't even make it to the chair.
it's a fansign, hours of sitting and smiling and signing albums, and you've given him a look that needs to last: matte lip tint, setting spray, the works. you're checking on yeonjun's eyeliner when you feel a tap on your shoulder.
"emergency," beomgyu says, and his voice is pitched low, intimate, meant only for you.
you turn, expecting another smudge, another stain, another excuse. instead, you find him perfectly intact, lips pristine, not a crumb of food in sight. but his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and he's holding your gaze with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"what—"
"bathroom," he says. "now. please."
you shouldn't. you know you shouldn't. there are a hundred people in this venue, staff and security and fans waiting just outside, and you're supposed to be professional.
you follow him anyway.
he doesn't even wait for the door to close all the way before he's pressing you against it, his mouth hot and demanding against yours, and you can taste it now—strawberries, always strawberries, like he's been eating them in secret just to leave the flavor on his tongue for you.
"you've been driving me crazy," he breathes between kisses, hands sliding down to grip your hips. "all week, watching you get flustered, watching you touch my face, my mouth..." he nips at your lower lip, and you gasp, arching into him. "do you know how hard it is to sit still while you're painting my lips? wanting to bite you instead?"
"beomgyu… no—" you try for his name, but it comes out as a moan when he rolls his hips against yours.
"i wasn't hungry for snacks," he admits, mouth trailing down your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses that you know will leave marks. "i was hungry for this. for you. your hands on me, your eyes on me, your attention."
"you're ridiculous," you manage, but you're already unbuttoning his shirt, already sliding your hands under the fabric to feel the heat of his skin.
"ridiculous for you," he agrees, and then his mouth is on yours again, swallowing whatever response you might have made.
you lose track of time. you lose track of everything except the taste of him, the feel of him, the way he groans when you scratch your nails down his back. it's only when your radio crackles with your supervisor's voice that you jolt back to reality, pushing him away with shaking hands.
"fix me," he says, grinning, gesturing to his swollen lips, the smeared tint, the love bites you've left on his neck. "you're the only one who can."
you fix him. you always fix him.
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the sixth time, you stop pretending to be surprised.
it's a music video shoot, long hours, hot lights, the kind of day that drains everyone dry. you've touched up beomgyu's makeup six times already—legitimate touch-ups, sweat and movement and the demands of performance, but when he appears in your station at hour nine with cherry lollipop residue on his lips, you just raise an eyebrow.
"really?"
"i have a sweet tooth," he says, not even bothering with the pretense anymore. he leans against your table, close enough that you can smell the candy on his breath. "and you're the only one who can satisfy it."
"that's not even subtle."
"was i ever subtle?" he reaches out, thumb brushing over your lower lip, and you let him. you've stopped pretending about that too. "i like watching you work. i like your focus, your hands, the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating." his thumb presses harder, pulling your lip down slightly. "i like making you touch me."
"you're shameless."
"for you?" he leans in, mouth hovering over yours, not quite kissing, never quite kissing until you're aching for it. "absolutely."
you kiss him first this time, grabbing his collar and pulling him down, and he makes a sound against your mouth that's half-laugh, with a half-groan. his hands slide into your hair, tilting your head back, deepening the kiss until you're dizzy with it.
"there's a supply closet," he murmurs against your jaw. "third door on the left. ten minutes."
"we can’t—"
"don't make me wait." he pulls back, eyes dark, lips already swollen and red—ruined. you'd think if you didn't know better, if you didn't know he does this on purpose. "i've been snacking all day just to see you. don't make me go hungry now."
you meet him in the supply closet. of course you do.
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the seventh time, you're ready for him.
it's been a long day—fan meeting, radio interview, variety show filming, and now a late-night live broadcast. you've been running on adrenaline and espresso since 5:00 am, and you're packing up your kit, dreaming of your bed and the silence of your apartment, when you hear the door to your station click shut.
you don't turn around.
"let me guess," you say, keeping your voice light, casual, even as your heart starts to race. "you found the catering table again."
"i found something better," beomgyu says, and then his arms are sliding around your waist, his chin hooking over your shoulder, his breath warm against your ear. "i found you alone."
"you've found me alone seven times today."
"have i?" he turns you around, and his expression is soft now, fond, all the teasing stripped away to reveal something vulnerable underneath. "i just... i like being with you. even if it's just for five minutes while you fix my makeup. even if it's just watching you work from across the room." he cups your face, thumbs stroking your cheekbones. "is that pathetic?"
"no," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "it's... it's sweet. annoying, but sweet."
he laughs, bright and genuine, and presses his forehead to yours. "i can stop. the snacking, i mean. the excuses. if you want me to."
you think about it—the long hours, the ruined makeup, the constant interruptions. the way your heart jumps every time he appears in your doorway, the way your hands shake when you touch his face, the way you've started hoping he'll find something to mess up just so he'll come find you.
"no," you say. "don't stop."
his smile lightens up. "yeah?"
"yeah." you reach up, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to meet you halfway. "but maybe... maybe next time, skip the snacks. just come find me."
"and say what?"
"say..." you kiss the corner of his mouth, the other corner, the tip of his nose, each press of lips deliberate, worshipful. "say you're hungry. say you need me. say you couldn't wait another minute to see me."
"i can do that," he breathes, and then he's kissing you properly, deeply, hands sliding down to grip your waist and pull you flush against him. "i can definitely do that."
the door clicks—someone trying to get in, finding it locked—and you both freeze, breathing hard, foreheads still pressed together.
"your makeup," you remember, pulling back to look at him. his lips are swollen, cheeks flushed, hair fluffed up from your fingers. he looks thoroughly kissed, thoroughly wrecked, and a possessive pride surges through you at the sight. "it's ruined."
"is it?" he doesn't look concerned. if anything, he looks pleased and satisfied. "guess you'll have to fix it."
"beomgyu, we don't have time."
"we have time." he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm, your wrist, the sensitive skin of your inner arm. "we always have time. for this. for us."
"you're impossible."
"you're mine," he counters, and the certainty of it makes your chest ache with something warm and terrifying at the same time.
"yeah," you admit, because there's no point in denying it anymore. there never was. "yeah, i am."
he beams, and pulls you in for another kiss.
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you fix his makeup one last time that night, fingers steady now, familiar with the structure of his face, the shape of his mouth. he watches you work in the mirror, eyes never leaving yours, something soft and content in his expression that has nothing to do with the cameras waiting outside, the schedule pressing down on both of you.
"there," you say, stepping back. "perfect."
"perfect," he agrees, but he's looking at you, not his reflection. he stands, straightening his jacket, and pauses at the door. "hey, noona?"
"yeah?"
"i'm hungry."
you roll your eyes, but you're smiling, reaching for your bag, your coat, your keys. "there's a convenience store down the street. i'll buy you whatever you want."
"whatever i want?" he holds the door open for you, falling into step beside you as you head for the exit, for the night air and for whatever comes next.
"within reason."
he catches your hand, threading his fingers through yours, and brings your knuckles to his lips for a kiss that makes your breath catch. "what if what i want... is you?"
you squeeze his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walk into the night together. "then i guess... you're going to need a lot more touch-ups."
he laughs happily, and you think: this is it. this is the beginning of everything.
"good," he says. "i was planning on developing a very big appetite."
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this was supposed to be a pure fluff fic, but then my brain said “what if they sneaked into a supply closet and kissed” (・ω<)
seven is a lucky number in korea (if you realized, the reader noticed his intentions then) and also it felt like the right amount of "okay this is definitely not an accident anymore" without being completely unbelievable. the man just really likes snacks and his makeup artist, can you blame him??
thank you if you got this far into reading! i hope you enjoyed this. ♡
pairing: producer!beomgyu x producer!femreader
part 1 // part 2 // part 3
summary: you and beomgyu have been at each other’s throats since day one at HYBE. both of you are producers, both of you are talented, and both of you absolutely refuse to lose to the other. whether it’s competing for the best demo, fighting over studio time, or bickering in team meetings, everyone knows one thing: you and beomgyu cannot stand each other so, of course, your boss decides to put you two on the same project—producing ENHYPEN’s next album. together. as in, sharing a studio, making creative decisions, and not murdering each other in the process. and suddenly, the tension isn’t just about work.
genre: enemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers, slow burn, angst with a good payoff // w/c: 26k // warnings: not proofread, MDNI!! smoking (reader and beomgyu smoke), drinking, angst, jealously, overworking characters, making out, petnames, dry humping
author's note: you guys loved part 1 so much that i decided to drop part 2!! i wasn’t originally planning on posting this so soon, but all the love and reactions made me wanna share it with you asap. hope you enjoy <3 READ PART 1 HERE //
out of tune's playlist <3
The night was quiet, but Beomgyu’s mind wasn’t.
It had started with a question. A simple, stupid question that he never should have asked.
Waiting for your boyfriend to pick you up?
You had blinked at him, caught off guard, before letting out a soft laugh—so casual, so oblivious to what you had just done to him. "Yeonjun? No. God, no. He’s just—" You shook your head, still smiling. "He’s not my boyfriend."
Beomgyu had scoffed, looking away before you could see how tightly his jaw had clenched.
It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you weren’t with Yeonjun. It didn’t matter that you had laughed, like the thought had never even crossed your mind.
And yet, by the time he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment that night, exhaustion was settling deep into his body, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He rarely did these days, not properly, anyway.
The hallway to his apartment was quiet, dimly lit, the familiar flickering of the overhead lights casting long shadows against the walls. It wasn’t a bad place. Spacious, modern enough. But it felt empty.
As soon as he stepped inside, he tossed his bag onto the couch and went straight to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. His shoulders ached from hunching over his desk all day, his head heavy from staring at screens for too long.
Still, instead of going to bed, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his call log. His thumb hovered over the contact labeled Mom, but for some reason, hesitation rooted him in place.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her. It was just that… sometimes, it was easier to pretend things were fine when he didn’t hear how tired she sounded. Still, after a few moments, he forced himself to dial.
When she picked up, her voice was soft, laced with the kind of exhaustion that came from being sick for too long. "Gyu-yah."
His chest tightened. "Hey, Mom."
"You’re calling late," she murmured, a small smile in her tone.
"You’re awake late," he echoed his earlier words to his brother.
She chuckled lightly. "Guess it runs in the family." Another beat of silence. "You’ve been working a lot, haven’t you?"
Beomgyu leaned against the counter, closing his eyes briefly. She always saw right through him. "Yeah. Big project."
"Hm. And how’s that going?"
He exhaled, rubbing his fingers over his temple. "It’s—" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Harder than I thought."
"Isn’t it always?"
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah."
His mother’s voice softened. "What’s making it difficult?"
Beomgyu rolled his shoulders, shifting against the counter. He could lie, say it was just the usual stress of production, deadlines piling up, expectations weighing on him. That was part of it, sure. But there was something else. "She’s… challenging," he admitted before he could think better of it.
A pause. Then, amusement slipped into his mother’s voice. "She?"
Beomgyu regretted his wording immediately. "I meant the project is challenging." His mother hummed knowingly, and somehow that was worse than if she had outright called him out. He sighed, tipping his head back. "It’s just—I don’t know. I’m used to working on my own. Or at least, if I do work with other people, I don’t have to think about them all the time."
"All the time?"
He gritted his teeth. "Not like that."
His mother just laughed softly, as if she had already heard this story before. "That means they’re good, doesn’t it?"
Beomgyu scoffed. "More like they piss me off."
"That’s the same thing sometimes." He rolled his eyes, but a small, unwilling smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Does she make your job harder?" his mom asked after a moment, more thoughtful now.
Beomgyu exhaled slowly. "She makes my job better."
It was the truth. And he hated that. Because you did. Even when you were annoying, even when you were frustrating, even when you made him want to slam his head against the mixing console, you still made the music better.
And that should be the only thing that mattered. Should be.
His mother hummed softly, as if she could hear everything he wasn’t saying. "Some people just have a way of getting under your skin," she murmured. "And sometimes, that’s not a bad thing."
Beomgyu didn’t respond to that. Because he wasn’t sure he liked where his thoughts were heading. After a while, he let her rest, hanging up the call and tossing his phone onto the couch. He should go to bed. But instead, he found himself standing in his kitchen, staring at the dark city skyline through the window, mind circling back to the same damn thing. To you.
To the way you had looked at him earlier, confused by his mood. To the way your voice had softened when you told him you weren’t having a good day. To the way you had laughed at the idea of being with Yeonjun, so casually, like it wasn’t even a possibility.
He didn’t know why that last part stuck with him the most. And he really didn’t like that he cared enough to wonder.
And now, standing in the middle of a crowded party, staring at you across the room, he realized: You had never really left. You were looking at him.
Even with the haze of alcohol buzzing in his system, even through the blur of shifting bodies and flashing lights, Beomgyu felt it—sharp and unmistakable. The way your eyes found him, held him, even for just a moment. The way your expression flickered, unreadable, like you were trying to piece together something that neither of you had the words for.
And for the first time that night, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to smirk or swear. Because he liked it. He liked that you were looking. He liked knowing that, no matter how much you fought him, no matter how much you denied it—there was something there.
But then, you looked away. Like it hadn’t meant anything. Like he didn’t mean anything.
And something twisted deep in his chest, hot and sour. So, naturally, he did what he always did. He let his mouth run before his brain could catch up. "But don’t worry," he said, voice light, almost lazy, but aimed with precision. "I don’t care either way. After all, like you said… I’m just your coworker."
The words landed exactly how he intended. He saw it—the way your shoulders tensed, the way your lips pressed together. The way something flickered in your eyes, so fast that if he blinked, he might’ve missed it.
Then he smirked. Just a flash of teeth, just enough to make your stomach twist.
And before he could second-guess himself, before he could let the alcohol-fueled honesty catch up to him, he turned on his heel and walked off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, head spinning, caught between wanting to kill him and—
No. You weren’t even gonna finish that thought.
You let out a slow, frustrated breath, running a hand through your hair. You needed to get out of your own head. You needed a drink. And after that, you needed Yunjin.
The party was still buzzing when you stepped back inside, the room warm and crowded, laughter spilling over the music. You spotted her near the bar, leaning against the counter, drink in hand, mid-conversation with some guy you didn’t recognize. You marched straight up to her, grabbing her wrist.
“I need to talk to you.” Yunjin barely had time to react before you were pulling her away from the noise, past groups of people, through the doorway leading to one of the quieter lounge areas.
Once inside, she gave you a look, raising an eyebrow as she took a slow sip of her drink. “Damn. No ‘hey, how are you?’ Not even a ‘you look great tonight, Yunjin’?”
You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Not now.”
She studied you, then smirked knowingly. “This is about Beomgyu, isn’t it?”
You stiffened. “No.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, completely unconvinced. “Go on…”
You exhaled sharply, slumping onto the couch, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”
Yunjin sat beside you, kicking off her heels, posture casual. “Alright, let’s hear it.”
You hesitated, staring at the floor, feeling strangely vulnerable all of a sudden. It took a few seconds before you found your voice. “I—” You stopped, frowning. “I don’t even know what I feel right now. I’m just… frustrated.”
She hummed. “At him?”
“At everything,” you admitted. “At this whole fucking project. At the way he gets under my skin so easily. At the fact that—” You cut yourself off, clenching your jaw.
Yunjin, sharp as ever, caught it immediately. “At the fact that what?”
You hesitated, gripping the edge of your seat. “I want his approval.” The words came out quiet. Frustrated. “I don’t know why. I just—I hate how much I care about what he thinks. Every time we work on something, I catch myself waiting to see how he reacts. Like, I tell myself it doesn’t matter, that I don’t need him to validate me, but then—” You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “But then he does. And it fucks with me.”
Yunjin listened, her expression unreadable. “Do you want his approval?” she asked. “Or do you want him?”
Your head snapped toward her. “What?”
She shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean, you’re so worked up over him, and yeah, some of it is because of work, but…” She tilted her head, giving you a look. “Is that all it is?”
Your stomach twisted. “Yes,” you said immediately. Yunjin just stared at you, unimpressed. You crossed your arms. “It is.”
Silence. Then she smirked, slow and knowing. “Liar.”
You groaned, shoving your face into your hands. “Oh my god, shut up.”
She laughed, nudging your foot with hers. “I mean, come on. This whole thing screams unresolved tension. You two have been circling each other for months, pretending you’re just rivals when clearly there’s more to it.”
You lifted your head, glaring. “There isn’t.”
“Okay,” she said, amused. “So if he kissed you tomorrow, you wouldn’t think about it for the rest of your life?”
Your brain short-circuited so violently that you actually choked on air. “What—”
Yunjin grinned. “Exactly.”
You scowled, but the damage was done. The thought was already planted in your head, unshakable. Beomgyu, close. Beomgyu, leaning in. Beomgyu, looking at you with that stupid, unreadable expression of his before—
Nope. You refused to entertain this. You grabbed her drink, downing the rest of it in one go, ignoring the way she laughed at you. “I hate you,” you muttered.
“No, you don’t,” she teased. “But you do have a thing for Beomgyu.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“Shut up.”
“Denial isn’t a good look on you, babe.”
You groaned, sinking further into the couch, your mind an absolute mess. Because no matter how much you wanted to deny it, Yunjin wasn’t completely wrong.
The music pulsed through the party, deep bass reverberating in your chest as you let yourself sink into the moment. The weight of the conversation with Yunjin still lingered in the back of your mind, but you shoved it aside, focusing on your friends instead—on the warmth of Yeonjun’s arm slung over your shoulder as he dramatically belted the lyrics to whatever song was playing, on the way Taehyun shook his head at him, on Hueningkai laughing so hard at something that he nearly dropped his drink. You let yourself get lost in it.
And then, eventually, the night began to wind down. People started leaving in waves, slipping out the doors in pairs or groups, laughter and goodbyes trailing after them. Your own friends were still lingering, but you were exhausted, drained from the long week, from the constant push and pull inside your head.
You needed sleep. You told them as much, earning dramatic protests from Yeonjun that didn't want to leave with you, a teasing “boring” from Yunjin, and an understanding nod from Taehyun. Hueningkai just patted your shoulder. "Get home safe," he said, voice warm.
Near the entrance, just a few feet away, Beomgyu stood against the wall, shoulders tense, arms crossed over his chest. He wasn’t talking to anyone, wasn’t laughing, wasn’t even pretending to enjoy himself. He was just there, like he had been standing in that same spot for too long, stewing in whatever storm was brewing behind his unreadable expression.
And he was looking at you. Even in the dim lighting, even from across the room, you could feel the weight of it—heavy, unwavering, pressing against your skin like static before a thunderstorm. There was something sharp in his gaze, something unsettled. Irritated. His jaw was tight, his fingers flexing slightly against his bicep, like he was holding something back. But from what? From you?
The noise of the party faded into the background, drowned out by the heavy thrum of your own heartbeat. You didn’t know why you were still standing there. You didn’t know why the sight of him like this made something twist sharply in your stomach, something restless, something uneasy.
You exhaled sharply, breaking the moment before it could turn into something you weren’t ready to name. Without another glance, you turned on your heel and walked out of the party.
You didn’t know what you felt.
But whatever it was, you hated it.
Just like you thought you hated Beomgyu.
You woke up feeling like absolute shit.
The kind of headache that pounded behind your eyes, the kind of dryness in your throat that made you regret every decision from the night before. You groaned, burying your face in the pillow, willing the pain to go away.
It didn’t. Of course it didn’t.
Memories from last night filtered into your mind slowly, fragmented, like puzzle pieces that didn’t quite fit together at first. You remembered the warmth of the alcohol in your veins, the steady bass of the music vibrating through your chest, the feeling of actually having fun for once—until you saw him.
Beomgyu.
You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that could make the memory disappear.
Beomgyu, drunk and loose-limbed, flashing you that easy, lazy grin that made your stomach flip before you could even process why. Beomgyu being nice, too nice, his words softer than usual, his teasing edged with something warmer.
And then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. The shift. The way his smile dimmed when he saw you talking to Yunho. The way his fingers curled slightly around his drink, his jaw tightening just enough for you to notice. The way his gaze darkened, cold and distant again.
And right before he walked away, he had turned to you with that unreadable look in his eyes, that frustrating mix of amusement and distance, and had said— "After all, like you said… I’m just your coworker."
Your stomach twisted. You threw the blanket off you, forcing yourself to sit up, because if you laid here any longer, you were going to start throwing things.
The apartment was dead silent, except for the faint sound of someone snoring in the living room. You got up carefully, wincing at the headache that pulsed through your skull, and padded out of your room. Yeonjun was passed out on the couch, one leg hanging off the side, his face smushed into a pillow. You sighed, grabbing the nearest blanket and draping it over him.
Then, as you turned toward the kitchen, you nearly tripped over two bodies sprawled out on the floor. Hueningkai and Taehyun. Both dead asleep, Kai using a hoodie as a pillow, Taehyun curled up in the most uncomfortable-looking position you had ever seen.
You stared at them for a long moment, then sighed again, rubbing at your temples. You needed coffee. You needed out of this apartment. That's why you decided to grab coffee somewhere else.
It was still too early for the world to feel real. The streets were quiet, the sky dull with that soft, overcast light that only came on hungover Sundays. You wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself as you pushed through the doors of the coffeeshop, craving caffeine more than you had ever craved anything in your life.
You were so focused on getting to the counter that you didn’t even notice him at first.
"So we really had the same idea, huh?" You blinked, turning toward the voice. Soobin was sitting at a corner table, hoodie pulled up over his messy hair, looking just as wrecked as you felt. His iced coffee sat half-finished in front of him, condensation dripping down the sides.
You stared. "Holy shit. You look like hell."
He scoffed. "Thanks. You’re glowing this morning."
You snorted, finally ordering your drink before sliding into the seat across from him. "Didn’t expect to see you here."
Soobin hummed. "Didn’t expect to be here. But I woke up with a headache from hell and figured coffee might bring me back to life."
"Same." You took a slow sip of your drink, wincing as the cold hit your stomach. "Last night was… a lot."
Soobin huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. Some more than others."
You narrowed your eyes. "What’s that supposed to mean?"
He just smirked, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just… Beomgyu was in rare form last night."
You stiffened slightly. If Soobin noticed, he didn’t mention it. "That drunk?" you asked, voice carefully neutral.
"Drunk enough to be nice," Soobin mused. "Which, you know, is when you should be really concerned." You huffed a laugh, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Soobin watched you for a moment, something thoughtful in his expression. "You know," he said eventually, stirring his drink with the straw, "he’s not as much of an asshole as he tries to be."
You raised an eyebrow. "Could’ve fooled me."
Soobin chuckled. "Yeah, he’s good at that. But—" He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "—he respects you."
You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe that. You knew Beomgyu took you seriously, he wouldn’t compete so hard with you if he didn’t. But respect wasn’t the word that had been echoing in your head since last night.
Soobin leaned back in his chair. "And maybe he likes your work a little too much."
Your heart skipped, just once, just enough for you to feel stupid. You forced out a scoff, shaking your head. "Right. Sure. That’s why he spent half of the night treating me like shit."
Soobin’s smirk barely twitched. "I never said he handles it well."
You stared at him, trying to figure out if he was messing with you. But there was nothing teasing in his gaze, just knowing amusement, like he had already seen how this story played out before you even knew what page you were on.
You hated that. You hated that something about it made your stomach twist.
So, you stood up, grabbing your order. "I need to go before you start giving me life advice."
Soobin grinned, unfazed. "See you Monday, then?"
"Yeah, yeah," you muttered, already heading for the door.
But even as you stepped out into the cold air, the caffeine still not fully kicking in, Soobin’s words stuck with you. Maybe he likes your work a little too much. Whatever that meant, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.
The walk back to your apartment was slow, the cool morning air doing little to clear the fog still lingering in your head. The coffeeshop bag swung gently at your side, filled with coffee and a few pastries, not because you were feeling particularly generous, but because you knew the three idiots waiting for you would need it just as much as you did.
When you finally pushed the door open, the apartment was still a disaster.
Yeonjun was awake now, sprawled across the couch in the same position you had left him in, scrolling through his phone with half-lidded eyes. Taehyun and Hueningkai were still on the floor, looking like they had barely moved.
You let the door shut behind you with a soft thud, and all three of them flinched.
"Jesus," Yeonjun muttered, rubbing his face. "Not so loud."
You rolled your eyes, tossing the bag onto the coffee table. "Brought coffee. If any of you die, it’s not my fault."
Hueningkai groaned, blindly reaching for the bag without sitting up. "You’re an angel. A mean one, but an angel."
Taehyun sat up with effort, running a hand through his already-messy hair. "Where’d you go?"
"Coffeeshop," you said simply, grabbing your own cup before sitting on the arm of the couch. "Needed air."
Yeonjun stretched his arms above his head, then let them drop dramatically. "Did we ever figure out what happened to Yunjin?"
"Yeah," Taehyun answered, taking a sip of his drink. "We got her home safe. She passed out halfway there."
"Typical," Yeonjun muttered, shaking his head.
Hueningkai yawned. "We were too drunk to go back to our own places, so we crashed here. Hope you don’t mind."
You shrugged. "I figured. You were taking up half my floor." You shook your head before speaking again. "Ran into Soobin there, in the coffeeshop."
That got their attention. Hueningkai snorted. "Damn, everyone had the same idea."
"Yeah," you mused, stirring your straw through your drink. "He looked just as bad as me. Maybe worse."
Yeonjun hummed. "He drank a lot last night."
"Yeah," you agreed, then took a slow sip of coffee before adding casually, "But he said Beomgyu was worse." You expected some reaction. A laugh, a sarcastic remark, maybe even an exaggerated groan. What you didn’t expect was the subtle way Yeonjun and Taehyun exchanged glances. You frowned. "What?"
Yeonjun exhaled, setting his drink down. "Nothing—just…" He hesitated before continuing, "after you left, Beomgyu and Yunho got into it."
You blinked. "What?"
Hueningkai nodded, chewing slowly. "Yeah. Not, like, a full fight or anything. But they were arguing. And it wasn’t friendly."
You sat up slightly. "Over what?"
Yeonjun shrugged. "No clue. Heeseung and I stepped in before it got worse, but they were both pissed."
Your mind raced, replaying the night. Yunho had been fine when you left, normal, flirty, acting like he always did. And Beomgyu? Beomgyu had been weird. The shift had been so sudden, one second he was being nice, playful, softer than usual. The next, cold, distant. And now, apparently, he had also picked a fight with Yunho. None of it made sense.
You drummed your fingers against your cup. "What did Yunho even say?"
Taehyun shook his head. "Dunno. But whatever it was, Beomgyu hated it."
You scoffed lightly. "So what? He was already pissed at me."
"Was he?" Yeonjun asked, raising an eyebrow.
You frowned, opening your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Because, honestly? You didn’t know. He had been acting off all week, distant and unreadable. And then last night, he was the opposite, warm, teasing, close. And then, again, the shift, cold. Your head hurt just thinking about it.
"I don’t care," you muttered, standing up and stretching. "I’m taking a shower. If you guys are still here when I’m done, I’m kicking you out."
Taehyun smirked. "Love you too."
You rolled your eyes, but as you walked toward your room, the weight of Yeonjun’s words lingered. Whatever it was, it clearly got under Beomgyu’s skin. But why did that matter? And why the hell did you care?
The car ride to work on Monday was quiet, but not in a peaceful way.
Yeonjun was dropping you off like usual, his music playing softly in the background, but you weren’t really listening. Your thoughts were elsewhere, circling, looping, pulling you into an endless spiral of what the hell is going on with you and Beomgyu.
You had spent the entire Sunday trying not to think about him.
Trying not to think about the way he had been so warm, so teasing, so himself, until he wasn’t. Trying not to think about Yunho, about their argument, about the way Beomgyu looked at you when you left.
And yet, here you were, staring out the car window, still thinking about it. Because now you had to see him again. And you had no idea which version of Beomgyu you were going to get. The smug, infuriating one who lived to push your buttons? The cold, distant one who had barely acknowledged you all week? Or the version from the party, the one who looked at you like he knew exactly what he was doing to your head?
Which was exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this. Because if you said it out loud, then it would feel real. Instead, you just turned back toward the window, watching as the HYBE building came into view.
You made it to your studio without seeing Beomgyu. Thank god.
You hadn’t even realized you had been holding your breath until you shut the door behind you, exhaling slowly. The last thing you wanted was to run into Beomgyu in some awkward hallway moment, trying to pretend like everything was fine when clearly nothing was.
So you did what you did best. You threw yourself into work.
The hours slipped by, your fingers moving almost mechanically over your keyboard, your mind hyper-focused on mixing, arranging, tweaking. It was easier this way, easier to pretend that nothing had changed, that your work was all that mattered.
You didn’t see Beomgyu once. Not in the hallway, not in the break room, not even in the usual spaces where he always seemed to be. Maybe he was avoiding you too. You tried not to care. Tried not to think about it.
But then, just as the day was winding down, just as you were finally about to pack up and go home, there was a knock at your door.
You frowned, pushing your chair back. "Come in."
The door swung open, and standing there, looking as serious as ever, was Baekhyun. "Hey," he said, stepping inside. "Got a minute?"
You straightened slightly, your pulse kicking up for no reason at all. "Uh… yeah, of course."
Baekhyun shut the door behind him before turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, calm, neutral, but with a weight behind his eyes that made your stomach churn. You had a bad feeling about this.
"Listen," he started, crossing his arms. "I wanted to tell you this before you heard it from someone else."
You swallowed. "O…kay?"
Baekhyun exhaled, then said, "Beomgyu dropped out of the project."
The words didn’t register at first. You just blinked at him, waiting for him to say something else. But he didn’t. Because that was it.
You sat up straighter, confusion flashing across your face. "What?"
"He asked to be reassigned," Baekhyun clarified. "You’re the sole producer now."
Your stomach dropped. "He what?"
Baekhyun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t about work. His excuse was weak as hell. He just said he ‘wasn’t the right fit for the project’ and left it at that."
You stared at him, your brain struggling to process. Beomgyu, who never backed down from anything, had quit? Beomgyu, who had spent the last few weeks going head-to-head with you, challenging you, pushing you, had walked away?
Just like that? Your pulse roared in your ears. "Why?" you demanded.
Baekhyun shook his head. "I have no idea. And honestly, I don’t have time to figure it out. The album still needs to get done, and now it’s all on you."
You barely heard him. Because all you could think about was him.
The way he had been acting all week. The way he had been acting at the party. The argument with Yunho. The distance. The sudden shift. And now this.
Beomgyu didn’t just quit. Not unless there was a reason. But what the hell was it?
Baekhyun sighed, checking his watch. "Look, I have to run, but if you need anything, let me know."
You nodded stiffly, barely registering as he left the room, shutting the door behind him. And then you were alone. Alone with the news. Alone with the confusion. Alone with the sharp, twisting feeling in your chest that you refused to call anything other than frustration.
Your brain spiraled. Your hands clenched into fists against your desk, your pulse hammering in your ears. Beomgyu quit? Just like that? Without saying a word to you? Without even giving a proper reason?
It made no sense. None of it made sense. You sat there, staring blankly at your screen, but you weren’t processing anything. All you could think about was him.
You exhaled sharply, pushing back from your desk. You weren’t going to sit here and let your thoughts drive you insane. If he wasn’t going to come to you, then fine. You’d go to him.
The building was nearly empty. Most people had already gone home, leaving only a few scattered producers and trainees still working. The silence felt heavier somehow, like even the air itself knew something was wrong.
You walked straight to his studio first. Locked. No lights inside. Empty.
Your jaw tightened as you turned away, moving faster now. Fine. Maybe he was in the break room.
You checked there next, stepping inside and scanning the area. Nothing. Not even a half-finished cup of coffee or an abandoned snack, things that always seemed to be left behind whenever Beomgyu was around.
Your fingers twitched at your sides. You were already walking before you had fully decided to, heading down the hallway toward the smoking area outside. You shoved the door open, stepping onto the dimly lit balcony. The cold air bit at your skin, but you barely noticed. Because the space was completely empty. He wasn’t here.
You let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through your hair. Where the hell was he?
After a few more seconds of standing there uselessly, you turned back around, forcing yourself to accept that you weren’t going to find him tonight. Maybe he had already gone home. Maybe he had been home this whole time, avoiding everything and everyone. Maybe you were wasting your energy trying to chase after someone who clearly didn’t want to be found.
Defeat sat heavy in your chest as you trudged back toward your studio, exhaustion sinking into your bones now that the adrenaline had faded. You should just let it go. Just let him go.
But when you stepped inside your studio—
You froze. Because there he was.
Sitting in your chair, arms resting on the desk, staring at you like he had been waiting. Like he had known you’d come looking. He had that look on his face. That stupid, pathetic, guilty expression—like a kicked dog, like he knew exactly what he had done, like he was bracing himself for the storm he knew was coming.
You shut the door behind you harder than necessary, your heartbeat roaring in your ears. Beomgyu swallowed, his hands tightening slightly where they rested on the desk.
"Listen—"
"Listen what?" Your voice snapped through the air, sharper than you even intended, but you didn’t care. Because after everything, this was what you got? A half-hearted listen? No. Not happening. You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "Go on, Beomgyu. I’d love to hear it."
The words hit the air like a match against gasoline. Beomgyu exhaled sharply, rubbing his palms against his jeans before leaning forward, elbows on his knees. His gaze flickered up to meet yours, hesitant, cautious. "I just—" He ran a hand through his hair, frustration leaking into his voice. "It wasn’t working."
"What wasn’t working?" you demanded. "Because from where I’m standing, the only thing that wasn’t working was you deciding to disappear without saying a damn word to me—"
"Would you just let me talk?" Beomgyu snapped, his voice cutting through yours.
You froze. He never raised his voice at you. Not like this. Not with something heavy sitting behind it, something too close to something real. You set your jaw, arms tightening over your chest. "Fine. Talk."
He let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "You think I wanted to leave the project?"
You blinked. "You literally did."
"Yeah," he snapped. "And maybe if you weren’t so stuck in your own head all the time, you’d realize why."
Your stomach twisted. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Beomgyu scoffed, pushing himself up from your chair. "It means," he said, voice low, controlled, "that I warned you about people you let in in your life, and you didn’t listen."
And there it was. The shift. The argument that had started as one thing—the project, his sudden absence, your frustration, suddenly becoming something else. Your hands clenched at your sides. "This is about Seungcheol?!"
He let out a sharp laugh, running his tongue over his teeth. "Wow. Look at that. You do listen sometimes."
You took a step closer. "And what exactly is your problem with him?"
Beomgyu’s jaw ticked. "My problem," he muttered, "is that you’re so damn naive sometimes—"
"Excuse me?"
"You think everyone is exactly what they show you," he continued, voice rising slightly. "You think people don’t have their own reasons for the things they do, for why they pay attention to you—"
You felt something sharp crawl up your throat, something dangerously close to real anger. "And why the fuck does that matter to you?"
Beomgyu’s breath hitched, just for a second, just enough for you to see it. And then, just as quickly, his face hardened again. "It doesn’t," he said flatly.
You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Right. Got it. So, you threw away an entire project, left me with all the fucking work, because you suddenly don’t care?"
Beomgyu’s hands curled into fists. "I left because I knew this was going to get messy."
"It’s already messy, Beomgyu!" you exploded. "You made it messy! I thought we were a team—I thought, for once, that maybe you weren’t just trying to be better than me, that maybe we actually worked well together, but no—of course not, because you had to fucking run the second it got complicated—"
"Are you even hearing yourself?" His voice was sharp, eyes blazing. "Do you really think I left because of the fucking project?"
You opened your mouth—then shut it. Because, no. You didn’t believe that. Not for a second. Because if this was just about work, then Beomgyu would’ve fought harder. He always fought harder.
Your breath was shallow now, your heart racing against your ribs. There was only a foot of space between you.
You could hear his breathing, sharp, uneven. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to do something. And you could feel it, how the air between you had shifted, thickened into something neither of you knew how to name.
This wasn’t just about work. This wasn’t just about Yunho, or Seungcheol. This wasn’t just about Saturday night. It was about everything. But neither of you were ready to say it. Neither of you knew how.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. "Then why did you?"
His jaw clenched. "I told you—"
"No," you cut him off, stepping even closer, your anger outweighing your restraint now. "You didn’t. You keep talking in circles, Beomgyu, but you haven’t told me shit. You just keep—acting like I’m supposed to read your fucking mind."
Beomgyu exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Because you don’t get it!"
"Then make me get it!" you snapped.
His eyes flashed, dark and burning. Then, suddenly—
"You drive me insane."
The words hit the air before he could stop them, before you could process them, and for a second, the room froze. Your breath caught.
Beomgyu’s lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe he had actually said it out loud. His chest rose and fell unevenly, like he had been holding onto those words for too long, like they had just ripped their way out of him.
You felt your stomach twist, your skin heat, your pulse roar in your ears. Because he wasn’t looking at you with anger anymore. He was looking at you like you were something dangerous. Like you had the power to ruin him. Like you already had.
"Ever since we started this fucking project," he continued, voice rough, "I haven’t been able to think straight. I go home, and I still hear your voice in my head. I wake up, and I’m already wondering what kind of mood you’ll be in, if we’re gonna fight, if we’re gonna work, if—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It’s you. It’s always fucking you."
Your pulse slammed against your ribs. This, whatever this was, it had been bubbling under the surface for so long, hidden under sharp words and competition and a rivalry neither of you had ever actually needed.
"You fucking ran." Your voice was quieter now, but not softer.
Beomgyu’s brows pulled together. "I had to."
"No," you countered, stepping closer. "You wanted to. Because it was easier than—than whatever this is. Because you can’t handle anything you can’t control."
Beomgyu let out a sharp breath, tongue running over his teeth. "You think I’m the only one running?" You hesitated. That second of hesitation was all it took.
Because then, suddenly, Beomgyu’s fingers curled around your wrist, not pulling, not forcing, just grounding, and you felt the warmth of his skin burn into yours. "You tell me to stop running," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper now. "Then tell me to stay."
Your heart nearly stopped. The challenge in his tone, the weight behind it, felt like stepping off a ledge. You stared at him, your throat tight, your head light, your pulse a fucking mess. Because this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. This wasn’t the plan.
And yet, your fingers tightened slightly around his. Barely, just enough for him to feel it. Just enough for something inside him to snap.
You barely had time to process it before Beomgyu moved.
His hands found your face first, warm, calloused fingers cradling your jaw like he needed to hold you in place, like he was afraid you’d pull away before he could do what he had been holding back for too long.
The space between you disappeared, and then his lips were on yours.
The first press was firm, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if you’d kiss him back, if this was something he was allowed to take. But then you gave in. A sharp inhale, a slight tilt of your head, the way your fingers fisted into his hoodie, yanking him closer. That was all he needed. Because once Beomgyu realized you weren’t stopping him, that you weren’t pushing him away, he lost it.
The kiss got harder, deeper, his lips parting against yours as his hands slid from your jaw to your waist, fingers gripping your sides like he was pissed off—at you, at himself, at the entire world for making him wait this long.
You made a sound against his mouth, but it wasn’t protest. It was frustration, relief, disbelief that this was even happening. Because fuck, he kissed like this? Hot and desperate and messy, like he had been waiting for this for longer than even he was willing to admit. Like he had no idea where to put his hands because he wanted to touch you everywhere.
You felt his teeth graze your lower lip, just barely, just enough to make you gasp, and he took full advantage of it, deepening the kiss, pressing himself into you until your back hit the door behind you.
All you could process was him, his lips, his warmth, the way one of his hands slid up, fingers curling around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could kiss you even deeper, even dirtier. Your fingers dug into his hoodie, tugging him forward, not willing to let him have all the control. He groaned at that.
A soft, frustrated sound that sent a thrill through your body, because you had never heard him sound like that before, had never imagined that you could pull that sound from him. And then, just when the heat between you had grown unbearable, just when his hands started to wander, gripping at your waist like he wanted to pin you there forever—
You both realized what was happening. Realized that this was you and him. That this was real. That this wasn’t something either of you could take back. So you pulled away first. Barely, just a few inches. Just enough to catch your breath. Beomgyu didn’t move.
His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your lips, his hands still gripping your waist like he couldn’t let go. Your chest heaved, heart hammering so loudly you swore he could hear it. Neither of you spoke. Neither of you could. Because whatever line had been there before? You had just obliterated it.
His breath was uneven, and the silence between you both stretched longer than either of you had anticipated. The air in the studio felt thick now, charged with something neither of you quite knew how to handle.
Finally, you broke the silence. Your voice came out rough but firm as you looked at him. "You… you can’t just walk away."
Beomgyu’s hand twitched at your waist, his grip still there, like he was trying to hold onto something real in the middle of all the chaos between you two. His lips parted, but he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what to say next.
"You want me to stay?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you expected. "You really want me to stay?"
You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat. It wasn’t that simple. But then again, it was. "I do," you said, your words coming out with an honesty you couldn’t take back.
The air seemed to crackle around you both, and Beomgyu finally let go of his tight grip around your waist, but not completely. He just let his hands fall to your sides, his touch lingering as though he was afraid of pushing too far.
And there it was. The line had been crossed. The weight of your words hung between you, settling like something inevitable. Neither of you moved, but there was something different now, something undeniable that shifted in the space you shared.
Beomgyu’s eyes softened for the first time, he leaned in again, his hand gently cupping your cheek this time, as though he was finally allowing himself to believe that this wasn’t just another fleeting moment, another mistake. His touch lingered for a moment longer, his hand soft on your cheek as though he were afraid that if he moved too quickly, everything would fall apart. His eyes searched yours, the intensity of the moment hanging between you, thick with unspoken words. His lips parted slightly, as though he was going to say something, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat.
For a long moment, all that was heard was the sound of your breaths, his shaky, yours quick. But then, just as quickly as he had leaned in, Beomgyu pulled back.
The change was immediate. His hand dropped from your cheek, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something almost… regretful. You could feel the tension in his body shift, a quiet storm brewing in him that you couldn’t quite understand.
"Beomgyu…" you started, but before you could get another word out, he turned away from you.
Without a word, he walked toward the door. Your chest tightened, confusion and frustration flooding your senses as you watched him move. You didn’t know whether to call out, to beg him to stay, or to just let him go and pretend that this whole mess hadn’t happened. But no matter what, you felt a pit in your stomach, a weight you couldn’t shake off.
Beomgyu reached for the handle, his back still to you, and for a brief second, you thought maybe he would say something—anything. Maybe he would explain himself, finally tell you what was going through his head. But instead, he opened the door. The sound of the hinges creaking was like a cruel reminder of what was happening.
He stepped outside, and for a heartbeat, the door remained open, leaving you to watch him through the gap. His expression was unreadable, his body stiff. Then, without looking back, he closed the door behind him, the sound echoing through the room like the finality of everything.
And just like that, you were left alone.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you sat down, staring at the door, still hearing the faint click of it locking in your mind. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. It felt as though the world had tilted on its axis, leaving you floating in the aftermath, unsure of what had just happened. What had changed? Why did it feel like you were left with nothing?
Everything was so… messy. You had never felt so raw, so exposed, and yet, Beomgyu had walked away without a single word. The silence that filled the room now was deafening. You wanted to scream, to shout, to demand answers, but all you could do was sit there, trying to make sense of it all.
Had you been wrong to ask him to stay? Did you push him too far, too soon? Or was this all just another part of that complicated dance you two had been doing from the very start?
You didn’t know. All you knew was that the studio felt emptier now, quieter. And Beomgyu… Beomgyu had walked away. The silence in the studio was suffocating.
You sat there, unmoving, eyes still locked on the door even though Beomgyu was long gone. Your hands were trembling in your lap. The lump in your throat tightened, and before you could stop it, a sharp, broken breath escaped you. Until the tears spilled over, hot and relentless, blurring your vision and burning your cheeks.
You sucked in a shaky breath, gripping the edge of your desk like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. You never cried over shit like this. Not over work. Not over him. You hated this. You hated feeling like this.
You blinked rapidly, wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Your breath came out in uneven gasps, the weight in your chest growing heavier by the second.
You needed to leave. Your fingers scrambled for your phone, your vision still blurred with tears as you unlocked it and pulled up your messages. You barely even thought before typing.
[you]: can you pick me up
The response came within seconds.
[yeonjun]: on my way. stay there.
You let out a shaky breath, gripping your phone like it was the only thing keeping you from completely unraveling.
The second you slid into Yeonjun’s car, the dam broke.
The moment the door shut behind you, the sobs you had barely been holding in ripped out of you, raw and unfiltered, shaking your entire body.
Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask any questions. Didn’t push. He just reached across the console, one hand on your back, grounding you. "Hey, hey, hey," he murmured, his voice low and calm as he rubbed small circles. "I got you, okay? Just breathe."
You shook your head violently, pressing your palms into your eyes, trying, and failing, to stop crying. "I—I don’t—" A sharp inhale, a choked-out sob. "I don’t even know why I’m crying."
Yeonjun let out a soft breath, like he already knew that was a lie. You sucked in another shaky breath, leaning your head back against the seat, staring up at the roof of the car. For a few minutes, neither of you spoke. Yeonjun just drove.
The car was quiet, save for the steady hum of the engine and the occasional sound of your sniffles as you tried to get your breathing under control. Yeonjun didn’t say anything right away. He didn’t press, didn’t demand answers. He just waited and held your hand while he drove. Slow, steady, like he had done this a hundred times before. Like he knew you needed the silence before you could find the words.
And when you finally did, your voice came out small. Tired. "He quit the project." Yeonjun’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, but he stayed quiet, letting you continue. "I don’t—I don’t get it," you said, shaking your head as you wiped at your eyes with your sleeve. "I was working all day, and then Baekhyun came in and just dropped it on me like it was nothing. Like it was some casual decision Beomgyu made, and now I’m just supposed to deal with it—"
Yeonjun exhaled sharply. "Wait. He just left? No warning? No explanation?"
You let out a shaky breath. "Nothing. I—I went looking for him, but he wasn’t anywhere. Then when I finally gave up and went back to my studio, he was just there, like he had been waiting for me or something." Yeonjun frowned, but he didn’t interrupt. "And I was so fucking mad," you admitted, voice thick with frustration. "I just—I don’t understand him. He always has to push my buttons, always has to act like he doesn’t care about anything, but then he turns around and does this. Like it means something, but then he—he just—"
Your breath hitched. You squeezed your eyes shut, your chest aching. "And then he kissed me," you whispered.
Silence. Yeonjun inhaled slowly. "What?"
Your hands clenched in your lap. "I don’t even know how it happened. We were yelling at each other, and it just—it happened."
Yeonjun didn’t respond right away. His fingers flexed around the steering wheel, his brows furrowing as he processed what you just said. "And then what?" he asked, quieter now.
Your throat tightened. "And then… he left."
Yeonjun let out a slow, controlled breath. "What a dick." You let out a weak, wet laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, well, I mean it." He tightened his grip on the wheel before exhaling, forcing himself to soften.
Then, carefully, he reached over, his fingers curling around your knee, grounding you. "Hey." You sniffled, not looking at him. Yeonjun’s voice was softer this time. "Did it mean something to you?"
Your breath caught. Because, fuck. It did. It did, and you hated that. You let out a shaky exhale, running a hand over your face. "I don’t know," you lied.
Yeonjun hummed like he didn’t believe you for a second. He didn’t push, though. Instead, his thumb rubbed slow, calming circles into your knee. "Look, Y/N… I don’t think Beomgyu ran because he didn’t care. I think he ran because he does."
Your chest ached. "Then why not just fucking say that?"
Yeonjun sighed, turning onto your street. "Because people are dumb. Men are dumb. And Beomgyu’s spent years convincing himself that he doesn’t care about anything. You think he’s just gonna wake up one day and admit that he cares about you?" Your breath stilled. Yeonjun just shook his head. "He’s an idiot. That’s all it is."
You let out a weak laugh, leaning your head against the window. "Yeah," you murmured. "That makes two of us."
Yeonjun pulled into your apartment complex, shifting into park before turning to you. He didn’t say anything for a second, just watched you carefully, his eyes warm and steady. Then, gently, he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You’re not an idiot," he murmured. "You just care too much, and you’re scared."
You scoffed. "No shit."
You swallowed hard, your throat tight. He let that sit for a second before shaking his head. "You know what I think?" Yeonjun hummed, thoughtful. "I think he’s scared, too."
You stiffened slightly. "He didn’t seem scared when he left me standing there."
"Yeah?" Yeonjun mused. "Then why did he leave at all?"
You frowned, glancing at him. "What do you mean?"
Yeonjun sighed. "Think about it. If Beomgyu was just messing around, if this was just another game to him—he wouldn’t have left. He would’ve stayed. Would’ve laughed it off, made some cocky comment, pretended like it meant nothing." Your stomach twisted. Yeonjun turned toward you, his expression softer now. "But he didn’t, Y/N. He ran."
You let that sink in. Because maybe Yeonjun had a point. Maybe Beomgyu leaving wasn’t just some asshole move. Maybe he had been just as freaked out as you. The thought made your chest tighten all over again.
Yeonjun reached over, squeezing your hand once before letting go. "You don’t have to figure it all out right now," he murmured. He gave you a small smile before reaching over, pulling you into a hug. "You’re gonna be okay," he murmured against your hair. "I promise."
You let out a shaky breath, gripping onto him a little tighter. You weren’t sure if you believed him. But for now, you needed to. You sighed, leaning back against the seat, exhausted. But even as Yeonjun turned off the car, even as you sat there, trying to steady yourself, one thought wouldn’t leave your mind.
Beomgyu had run. But what the hell was he running from?
The question rattled in your mind, looping over and over as you stepped into your apartment, your limbs heavy with exhaustion.
You barely remembered saying goodnight to Yeonjun. You barely even registered the moment you locked yourself in the bathroom, turning on the shower and stepping under the scalding water.
Steam filled the space around you, thick and hazy, but it did nothing to quiet the storm in your chest. You tilted your head back, letting the water soak through your hair, tracing down the curve of your spine. Your breathing was still uneven, your mind still too loud.
You were supposed to be fine. It wasn’t a big deal. So what if he had kissed you? So what if he had left? You and Beomgyu had been dancing around each other for years—this was just another part of the cycle.
Right?
You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply through your nose. Then why does it feel different this time? Your fingers curled into fists.
You could still feel his hands on your waist, his breath against your lips. Could still see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes right before he pulled away. Could still hear the sound of the door clicking shut as he left.
You sucked in a sharp breath, forcing yourself to push the memory away. You weren’t going to do this. You weren’t going to sit here, overthinking every second, every glance, every fucking thing about Beomgyu.
So instead, you stayed under the water until your skin was raw, until the ache in your chest dulled into something you could ignore.
And despite everything—despite the storm in your chest, despite the weight in your head—you managed to fall asleep. But you woke up feeling like your body was still stuck in yesterday.
Your limbs were sluggish, your mind groggy, and the second you remembered why, your stomach twisted unpleasantly. You groaned, dragging a pillow over your face, trying to will yourself back to sleep.
But outside your door, you could already hear Yeonjun moving around the kitchen. You forced yourself out of bed, padding into the living room to find him standing by the stove, frying eggs like he actually knew how to cook. You frowned. "What are you doing?"
Yeonjun glanced over his shoulder. "Making breakfast."
"You don’t cook," you pointed out.
"Yeah, well, desperate times." He nodded toward the table. "Sit."
You sighed but obeyed, rubbing at your temples as you slumped into a chair. A minute later, Yeonjun set a plate in front of you, eggs, toast, and a coffee. You blinked. "You’re really committing to this whole overbearing best friend thing, huh?"
Yeonjun smirked, plopping down across from you with his own plate. "You love it."
You rolled your eyes but took a bite of the eggs anyway. They were… passable. Yeonjun watched you carefully between bites, waiting. You sighed. "I will be fine, you know."
He hummed. "Yeah, I know." He took a sip of his coffee, then added, "But are you fine right now?" Your fingers tightened slightly around your fork. You didn’t answer. Yeonjun just sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze your wrist. "You don’t have to be fine yet, Y/N."
Your throat tightened. So instead of answering, you just nodded, pushing your food around your plate. Yeonjun didn’t push. Just let you sit there, existing, until you finally managed to eat something.
When it was time to leave, he drove you to work again, filling the silence with easy conversation, talking about his projects, making fun of bad drivers, anything to keep your mind off of what was waiting for you at HYBE.
But the second you stepped out of the car, the weight returned. The anxiety crept back into your bones. Because today, you had to see Beomgyu. And you had no idea what was going to happen.
You made it to your studio without running into him. You didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
But instead of sitting there, drowning in your own thoughts, you pulled out your phone. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before you typed.
[you]: taehyun, i need to talk to you
[taehyun]: About what?
[you]: just… when you have a second. come by my studio
[taehyun]: Be there soon.
You exhaled, setting your phone down. You didn’t know why you needed to talk to him. But right now, Taehyun felt like the only person who could give you some kind of clarity. And clarity was exactly what you needed.
It didn’t take long for Taehyun to show up. You barely had time to fully gather your thoughts before there was a soft knock at your door, and then he was stepping inside, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, head tilting slightly as he studied you.
"Alright," he said, shutting the door behind him. "What’s up?"
You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because now that he was actually here, you weren’t sure where to start. Did you tell him about Beomgyu quitting? The fight? The kiss? Did you tell him about the way your heart had completely fallen apart when Beomgyu walked out of that room?
You exhaled, rubbing your temples. "This is stupid."
Taehyun raised an eyebrow. "Well, now I definitely wanna hear it."
You shot him a dry look, but he just crossed his arms, waiting. So you told him. Everything.
How you found out that Beomgyu had quit. How you had gone looking for him. How he was already waiting for you when you got back to your studio. The argument and then… And then the kiss.
Taehyun listened carefully, barely reacting at first. Just nodding, humming occasionally, letting you spill everything you had been holding in since last night. And when you finally finished, slumping back into your chair with a deep breath, he exhaled slowly, shaking his head.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "You guys are exhausting."
You let out a short, humorless laugh. "Tell me about it."
Taehyun was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. "He’s an idiot," he said. You blinked. "He is," Taehyun repeated, sitting on the edge of your desk. "Beomgyu is… complicated. He’s impulsive, and reckless, and sometimes he doesn’t think before he acts. But he’s not bad, Y/N."
You frowned, shifting in your seat. "I never said he was bad—"
"You didn’t have to," Taehyun interrupted. "You’re pissed, and you should be. He left you with an entire project and just disappeared. That’s a dick move."
You scoffed. "Glad we agree on that."
"But," Taehyun continued, leveling you with a look, "you also know that if this was just about work, he wouldn’t have left."
You stiffened. Because, yeah. You did know that.
Taehyun sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look… I’ve known Beomgyu for a long time. And I can tell you one thing for sure—he’s confused as hell about you." Your stomach twisted. "Beomgyu’s not used to… feeling things like this. You know him—he jokes, he messes around, he acts like nothing ever really matters to him. But this? You? This is probably the first time something has actually gotten to him in a way he doesn’t know how to handle."
You looked away, fingers tightening slightly around the edge of your desk. "He looked at me like…" You hesitated, searching for the right words. "Like he regretted it."
Taehyun hummed. "Maybe he did." Your heart sank. Taehyun must have noticed your expression, because he shook his head quickly. "No—not like that. Not in the I wish I never kissed her way. More like… Fuck, what did I just do?"
Your breath hitched. Taehyun leaned forward slightly, watching you carefully. "Y/N… if Beomgyu didn’t care, he wouldn’t have left. He wouldn’t have pulled away. He wouldn’t be acting like this at all."
You swallowed hard. "Then why didn’t he just say something?"
Taehyun sighed. "Because he’s a coward."
You blinked. "Wow. That’s blunt."
"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "Someone has to say it."
A short silence stretched between you, the weight of everything still settling in your chest. And then, Taehyun’s voice softened slightly. "I know you want to see him." You inhaled sharply, but before you could argue, he continued. "But you won’t," he said simply. "Not for a while, at least."
"What do you mean?"
Taehyun rubbed the back of his neck. "I overheard Baekhyun talking to some of the staff this morning. Beomgyu asked for a week off before getting reassigned to another project." Your stomach dropped. You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Taehyun hesitated. "He’s not ot gone. Just… off the grid for a bit."
You swallowed hard. A week. You had a week without him. A week to focus on work. A week to stop feeling like this. A week to—
To what? Forget about him? Pretend none of this ever happened? Pretend that the past twenty-four hours hadn’t completely flipped your world upside down?
You clenched your fists in your lap, nodding stiffly. "Okay."
Taehyun studied you for a moment. Then, finally, he sighed and reached out, squeezing your arm. "You’ll be okay," he murmured.
You let out a shaky breath, forcing a nod. "Yeah."
But as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts, one thing was clear. You weren’t sure if that was true.
The first day without Beomgyu was easier than you expected.
Maybe because you were still fueled by frustration. By anger. By the exhaustion of the past few days. It was easier to channel all of that into work, to drown out the silence with layers of sound, synths, drums, melodies, anything to keep your mind occupied.
You convinced yourself that you didn’t need him here. Didn’t need his input, his annoying commentary, his stupid smirk when he knew he was right about something. And for a little while, you almost believed it.
But then the second day came. And the third.
And by Wednesday, you realized just how much space Beomgyu used to take up, physically, mentally, emotionally. The studio felt different without him. Too quiet.
You had spent so long being annoyed by his presence, by the way he was always around, always making some offhand comment, always pushing your buttons just because he could. And now it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Like the silence was mocking you. You tried to ignore it.
Tried to focus on the album, on the endless meetings with Baekhyun about tracklists, on your studio sessions with the Enhypen members.
Jake had mentioned that they were excited about the project. Jungwon had suggested a few ideas for the second track. Heeseung had even sat with you for over an hour, working through some of the melody transitions.
It was good. The work was getting done. Everything was moving forward. So why did it still feel like something was missing?
By Thursday, Yeonjun had stopped asking if you wanted to talk about it. At first, he had tried, little things, subtle attempts to get you to open up.
"You seem really focused on work this week," he had mused over dinner on Tuesday. "Trying to distract yourself?" You had rolled your eyes, shoving a bite of food into your mouth just to avoid answering.
By Wednesday, he had simply given you a long, knowing look before sighing. "Okay. I get it. You don’t want to talk about it."
And you didn’t. Because what was there to say? That you missed him? That you had caught yourself glancing at his empty chair during meetings? That every time you pulled up a demo, you could still hear his suggestions in the back of your mind? That you had started a dozen text messages, only to delete them before even finishing the first word? No. You weren’t going to do that.
You weren’t going to let Beomgyu live rent-free in your head while he was off doing whatever the hell he was doing.
So by Friday, you had convinced yourself that you were fine. That you were moving on. That you had finally, finally stopped thinking about him. At least, until you walked into your studio that morning.
And saw the letter sitting on your desk.
At first, you thought it was just another memo from Baekhyun. Or maybe some notes from one of the Enhypen members. But then you got closer. And you saw his handwriting.
For a moment, you just stood there, frozen in the doorway, staring at the folded piece of paper like it might disappear if you blinked. Then, cautiously, you stepped forward. Your fingers hesitated before reaching for it. The paper was slightly creased, as if he had folded and unfolded it multiple times before finally deciding to leave it here. No greeting. No explanation.
Just one simple sentence, scrawled in messy, familiar ink.
i think this fits for track 1
Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes flicked down to the lyrics below. And the second you started reading, your breath caught.
Just the two of us, getting deeply moonstruck
Oh, you make me go crazy over you, you, baby
Let me hold you close, I want to feel you until the end of the night
Fly this night above the rising moon
Crazy over you, you, baby
We can take it slow
Moonstruck in ecstasy
Your fingers clenched around the edges of the paper. This wasn’t just a song suggestion. This wasn’t just another track for the album. This was Beomgyu, talking to you the only way he knew how. Your pulse roared in your ears.
Because, fuck. You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this meant. And now, you had no idea what the hell you were supposed to do about it.
You sat at your desk, gripping the paper so tightly it was a wonder it hadn’t torn yet. Your eyes kept flicking over the words, tracing the messy, slightly smudged ink of his handwriting. Moonstruck.
You read the lyrics again. And again. Each time, they felt heavier.
I'm so intoxicated, getting more and more into you, baby
What the fuck was he trying to say? You tried to rationalize it. Maybe he had written it before everything that happened. But that didn’t make sense, did it?
Your fingers curled into the fabric of your hoodie as your mind looped back to that night. The way he had kissed you. The way he had run. And now, instead of an explanation, instead of a conversation, he left this? A song?
You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to push it aside. If Beomgyu wanted to talk in lyrics, fine. You would make sure they were heard.
The Enhypen members were already lounging around their practice room when you arrived. Sunghoon was sprawled on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone. Jungwon and Jay were flipping through notes on the album’s concept. Jake was throwing a crumpled-up piece of paper at Sunoo, who swatted it away with an exaggerated groan.
The second you stepped in, Heeseung perked up. "Oh, hey, you’re here. What’s up?"
You inhaled deeply, clutching the paper in your hands. "We have a song."
That got their attention. Sunghoon sat up properly. Jay leaned forward, brows raising. Ni-ki, who had been half-asleep in the corner, immediately straightened, eyes flicking toward you.
You placed the lyrics down on the table. "It’s called Moonstruck," you said, keeping your voice steady. "Beomgyu wrote it."
A beat of silence. Jungwon blinked. "Wait. Beomgyu?"
You nodded stiffly. "Yeah."
Jake leaned in, scanning the paper. "When the hell did he even—?"
"I don’t know," you admitted, arms crossing over your chest. "But it’s good. And I think we should use it."
They didn’t argue. Instead, they took the next few minutes carefully analyzing the lyrics, murmuring about which parts fit their vocal tones best.
"Pre-chorus has to be Ni-ki and Sunghoon," Jay noted, nodding to himself. "Their voices will carry this section perfectly."
Ni-ki grinned. "I do sound good under moonlight."
Sunoo groaned. "God, shut up."
Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "The first verse has a nice flow. Maybe Heeeseung and Jay can split it?"
You nodded. "Yeah, that works."
As they discussed vocal distribution, you quietly worked on the arrangement, playing with some of the melodies on your laptop. And as much as you hated to admit it, the song was beautiful.
The harmonies, the depth, the longing in the lyrics—it all weaved together into something intoxicating. Something that felt like Beomgyu. And, more terrifyingly, something that felt like you and Beomgyu.
You poured yourself into it. Every ounce of frustration, every unanswered question, every lingering moment of that damn kiss, you put it all into the music. If Beomgyu wanted to communicate this way, then fine. You would answer him in the production.
By the time the first rough demo was put together, the entire room had shifted. The members listened intently, nodding along to the beat, already humming harmonies under their breath.
And when the final note played, Heeseung let out a low whistle. "Okay," he muttered. "That was… insane."
Jake leaned back against the couch, arms crossed. "This might be one of the strongest songs on the album."
Ni-ki grinned. "It’s sexy."
Jungwon rolled his eyes. "It’s romantic, you idiot."
Sunghoon smirked. "Both."
You stared at the screen, fingers still hovering over the controls, heart pounding in your chest. You had lost track of time, lost yourself in the production, in the process of turning Beomgyu’s words into something real.
Heeseung stretched his arms over his head, glancing over at you. "How the hell did this come together so fast?"
You hesitated. Then, before you could think too much about it, the words tumbled out. "Because Beomgyu wrote it."
The room fell quiet for a beat. You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed under their stares. You ignored the pointed looks, turning back toward the screen.
You had done what you needed to do. You had taken Beomgyu’s song and made it something real. And yet, as you sat there, staring at the lyrics again, one thought lingered.
This was his way of talking to you. But when—if—you finally saw him again… Would he have anything else to say?
The weekend arrived quietly, slipping in like a breeze through an open window. For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to exist outside of work, outside of the chaos, outside of the constant hum of him in the back of your mind.
You spent Saturday sprawled across the living room floor, limbs tangled with Yunjin’s as she attempted (and failed) to beat Hueningkai in a Mario Kart tournament.
"HOW is this fair?!" she screeched, gripping the controller like it personally offended her. "This little shit has been in first place for the entire race—"
"Skill issue," Hueningkai mused, barely sparing her a glance as he executed yet another flawless turn.
Taehyun cackled from his spot on the couch. "Face it, Yunjin, you’re bad at this game."
"You’re supposed to be on my side!"
"I would be," Taehyun said easily, taking a sip of his soda. "If you were winning."
Yunjin let out an exaggerated wail, flopping back onto the floor in defeat as Hueningkai crossed the finish line with ease. You laughed, stretching your legs out, your shoulders relaxing in a way they hadn’t all week.
This was nice. No tension, no overthinking, no lyrics folded neatly onto your desk like an unanswered question. Just this. Just them.
Yeonjun, who had spent the afternoon attempting to make cocktails, only to get tipsy himself after "taste testing" every single one. Hueningkai, who had somehow convinced everyone to build a fort in the living room, resulting in a half-collapsed mess of blankets and fairy lights that no one had the energy to fix.
Taehyun, who had made it his personal mission to bother you at all time, poking your cheek, stealing your hair tie, purposefully messing up your playlists just to get a reaction out of you. And Yunjin, who was now lying dramatically across your lap, still mourning her loss. "I hate this game," she mumbled into your hoodie.
"You say that every time you lose," Yeonjun reminded her, nudging her foot with his own.
She groaned. "Because I do."
You chuckled, resting your head against the couch cushions. For the first time in days, your mind felt quiet.
Maybe Beomgyu was just a phase. A storm that had come and gone, leaving only a few stray raindrops behind. Maybe by Monday, you would go back to work and it wouldn’t hurt anymore. Maybe.
It wasn’t until Sunday night, when the apartment had finally settled into silence, that something shifted. Everyone had gone home. Yeonjun had retreated to his room, muttering something about a deadline he had been procrastinating. And you were alone.
The weight of it settled over you slowly, like an old sweater you hadn’t worn in years but still fit perfectly. You weren’t sure when you reached for your guitar. Hadn’t even realized you were doing it until you were sitting cross-legged on your bed, fingers ghosting over the strings. It had been a while.
Too long since you had written something for yourself. Too long since you had let yourself sit in the mess of your own emotions, instead of tucking them neatly into productions meant for other people’s voices.
You plucked a few chords aimlessly, letting the melody come to you naturally. Something soft. Something slow. And then—without meaning to—you started to hum. A tune that wasn’t meant for the album. A tune that wasn’t meant for anyone.
The words slipped out like a confession, too quiet for anyone else to hear. You didn’t even think about them. You just sang.
Your fingers stilled. The room felt too small. You closed your eyes, exhaling through your nose. And then, with trembling hands, you picked up a pen and started to write. Not because you wanted to. But because some things were too heavy to carry in silence.
The first chord rang out soft and hesitant, barely louder than the steady hum of the city outside your window. You pressed your lips together, fingertips finding the familiar weight of the strings, the slightly worn frets beneath them.
And then, you started to sing.
This is the first day of my life
Swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain, suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach
The words came slowly, carefully, like they had been waiting for you to let them out. Your voice was quiet, almost unsure at first. But as the melody settled into you, as the lyrics unfolded with each passing chord, something in your chest loosened.
Yours was the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
And I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go
Your breathing evened. Your fingers moved more fluidly. And suddenly, it wasn’t just a song anymore. It was him.
The memories bled into the music, uninvited but unavoidable. The late nights in the studio, the sharp bickering that always gave way to something deeper. The way he looked at you sometimes, like he knew you, like he saw through every wall you had ever built and wasn’t afraid to push past them.
So if you wanna be with me
With these things there's no telling
We just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides, maybe this time is different
I mean, I really think you like me
The realization settled slowly, creeping in like the soft glow of headlights through your window. You missed him. Not just as a producer, not just as a coworker, not just as the person who had spent years getting under your skin.
You missed him. His presence, his voice, the way his eyes flickered with something unreadable when he looked at you. The way you had always convinced yourself that the tension between you two was nothing but competition.
But now? Now, as you sat here with a guitar in your lap and a song that tasted like confession on your tongue, you weren’t so sure anymore.
The words hung in the air, delicate and fragile. And for the first time in weeks, you stopped running from the truth. It wasn’t just a rivalry. It wasn’t just frustration. It wasn’t even just a stupid, fleeting crush.
You liked him. And that was terrifying.
The car ride to work felt different today.
You weren’t as anxious as last week, your chest wasn’t as tight, your hands weren’t as clammy, but there was still something unsettled in you, something quietly nagging at the back of your mind.
Because today, Beomgyu was coming back.
And you had no idea what that meant. No idea which version of him you’d be facing. No idea if he’d pretend like nothing had happened, if he’d be cold again, or if he’d acknowledge it, that stupid, reckless, earth-shattering kiss. Or, if you'd even seen him today.
The HYBE lobby was already buzzing with early-morning energy. You kept your head down as you made your way toward the café, deciding that you desperately needed caffeine before facing the rest of the day. When you stepped inside, the familiar scent of espresso and vanilla filled the air, the quiet hum of conversation washing over you like white noise.
You spotted Taehyun near the counter, casually scrolling through his phone as he waited for his order. "Morning," you greeted, sliding into line beside him.
Taehyun glanced up from his phone as you slid into line beside him. "You’re here early," he remarked, taking a sip of his coffee.
You shrugged, adjusting the strap of your bag. "Figured I’d try something new. Maybe if I start my day with caffeine instead of stress, I’ll live longer."
Taehyun smirked. "Doubt it. But I respect the effort."
You hummed, stepping forward as the line moved. "What about you? Thought you weren’t a morning person."
"I’m not," he admitted, stuffing his free hand into the pocket of his hoodie. "But some of us have obligations."
You snorted. "Right." You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you reached for your phone. And just as you unlocked it, a notification popped up at the top of your screen.
[baekhyun (HYBE)]: meeting on the 18th floor. 10 minutes.
Your stomach twisted slightly. Taehyun must’ve noticed the shift in your expression because he raised an eyebrow. "Everything good?"
You exhaled, locking your phone and slipping it back into your pocket. "Yeah. Just got called into a meeting."
He hummed, sipping his coffee. "Just you?" You nodded, grabbing your drink from the counter. Taehyun studied you for a beat before smirking. "Well. That’s suspicious."
You shot him a flat look. "Everything is suspicious to you."
"And yet, I’m usually right." Taehyun smirked. "Good luck, warrior."
You shot him a dry look before turning to leave. But as you made your way toward the elevators, your chest tightened slightly. You weren’t nervous. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
But the moment the elevator doors slid open, your breath caught in your throat. Beomgyu was already inside.
He stood toward the back, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the veins in his forearms. His dark hair was slightly tousled, messy, like he had run his hands through it too many times this morning.
Your heart did something stupid in your chest.
You hesitated for half a second, debating whether you should just wait for the next elevator, but then Beomgyu’s eyes met yours. And you couldn’t run. Not again. So, stiffly, you stepped inside.
The doors slid shut behind you, and the silence pressed in like a heavy weight. You swallowed. Beomgyu said nothing. You could feel him there, standing just a few feet away, but he didn’t look at you. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on the doors in front of him, his entire body wound tight.
The tension was unbearable. So, stupidly, you spoke first. "You’re back."
His lips pressed together slightly. "Yeah."
You exhaled slowly, nodding. The elevator climbed higher, the numbers blinking above the doors, but the silence remained.
"I saw the tracklist update," Beomgyu said, voice even. "You kept Moonstruck."
Your breath hitched. For the first time since you stepped inside, he looked at you. And suddenly, you were back there. Back in the studio. Back in the moment he kissed you like it meant something. Back in the moment he ran.
You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup like it could anchor you. "Yeah," you said, keeping your voice steady. "It’s a good song."
Beomgyu’s gaze flickered, just briefly, just enough for you to see something shift. But he didn’t respond.
The elevator slowed. And before either of you could say anything else, the doors slid open. 18th floor. You stepped out first, pulse hammering against your ribs. But just before the doors shut behind him, you heard Beomgyu exhale a quiet—
"See you around."
And fuck. You were not ready for this.
Your legs carried you toward the meeting room, but your mind was still in that elevator. Moonstruck. He had noticed. You didn’t know why that made your stomach turn. Why it sent a hot, prickling feeling down your spine.
You had convinced yourself that the song was just work, just another track, just another piece of the album puzzle. But hearing him say it? Knowing that he knew?
It made it real. And the way he had looked at you when he said it, like he was waiting for something. Like he wanted an answer. But you didn’t have an answer. Because what were you supposed to say?
You inhaled sharply, pushing open the door to the conference room. And the second you stepped inside, you regretted it. Because sitting at the table, next to Baekhyun, was Seungcheol.
His eyes flicked up to yours immediately, and his lips curled into that same knowing smile he had given you at the HYBE party. "Ah," he mused. "Finally, our star producer has arrived."
Your stomach twisted. You forced a polite smile, slipping into the seat across from them. You had no idea what this meeting was about. But suddenly, you had a feeling it was going to be a lot.
You sat down, adjusting your posture, trying to ignore the sudden unease creeping into your chest. It wasn’t like you had anything against Seungcheol, he had always been perfectly pleasant whenever your paths crossed.
At the HYBE party, when Baekhyun introduced you, he was polite, curious, asked questions about your work that felt genuine. A few days later, in the hallway, he reinforced that same interest, saying he wanted to learn more about your creative process, that he admired what you were doing. It made sense, he was HYBE’s creative director, after all. It was his job to connect with the producers.
But then he happened. Beomgyu. With his endless stubbornness, his unwarranted judgment, his obvious disdain for Seungcheol.
He didn’t trust the guy. And he made that very clear, not just at the party when he interrupted your conversation, but later, in the hallway, with the way he threw out casual, cutting remarks, as if it was obvious that Seungcheol had ulterior motives.
You had ignored him. Because Beomgyu was always like that, poking, provoking, saying things just to get under your skin. But now, sitting across from Seungcheol, watching the way he smiled at you, the way his gaze lingered just a little too long, something inside you hesitated. And that was when you realized, that voice in my head isn’t mine. It’s Beomgyu’s. The thought irritated you. You didn’t need him planting ideas in your mind. Seungcheol had done nothing wrong.
He had never been inappropriate, never crossed any lines. If you were uncomfortable now, it was only because Beomgyu had convinced you that you should be.
Seungcheol leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the table. "I was really pleased when I heard you’d be leading the production on your own," he said, his voice smooth, effortless. "I think you deserve it—this is a great step forward in your career."
You blinked, keeping your expression neutral. Something about the way he said it bothered you. Because the truth was, you hadn’t minded producing the album with Beomgyu. He was a good producer. One of the best, actually. And despite all your frustrations with him, you couldn’t deny that the work had been better when he was there.
You licked your lips, choosing your words carefully. "I never had a problem sharing the workload," you replied smoothly. "Beomgyu is incredibly talented. The album was going really well with the two of us working together."
Seungcheol didn’t react immediately. Instead, he just smiled a little, as if he had been expecting you to say that.
Next to him, Baekhyun, who had been flipping through some papers, glanced up. "Beomgyu’s decision to leave was personal," he noted, sensing the tension. "He requested to be removed. It had nothing to do with the quality of your work together."
You nodded, but Seungcheol simply let out a quiet, almost amused chuckle. "That sounds like something he’d do," he murmured, almost to himself.
You frowned. "What do you mean by that?"
Seungcheol met your gaze, tilting his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "He’s impulsive," he said simply. "Always has been. He doesn’t handle things well when they don’t go his way."
Your jaw clenched. Something about the way he said it bothered you. It wasn’t what he said—it was how he said it. His tone was too calculated, his words too deliberate, like he was trying to implant something in your mind without directly stating it. And maybe you were being paranoid, but it almost felt like he was waiting for a reaction from you.
You kept your face carefully blank, but you couldn’t stop the words from slipping out. "Or maybe he just had a valid reason for leaving," you said, keeping your voice light but firm. "Whatever it was, he’s one of the best producers here. He always delivers, and he knows exactly how to handle pressure when it matters."
Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, like he was mildly surprised by your defense. But instead of pushing, he just smiled again. "If you say so."
Baekhyun cleared his throat, flipping to another page. "Anyway, now that you’re leading the project, we need to finalize some decisions about the album direction. We have to lock in arrangements before we move forward with recording."
You nodded, relieved that the conversation was shifting back to work. The meeting had gone on longer than expected. You had been so focused on the album’s direction, discussing arrangements and potential changes to the tracklist with Baekhyun, that for a moment, you managed to forget about Seungcheol entirely.
Until you didn’t. Because at some point during the discussion, as you were leaning over the table, flipping through some production notes, Seungcheol’s hand landed on your arm.
Not aggressive. Not too much. Just enough. Enough to make your shoulders stiffen, enough to make your fingers freeze mid-page, enough for that cold, uncomfortable feeling to creep down your spine.
It was subtle, an easy touch, light pressure on your forearm as he leaned in slightly. "I really admire how dedicated you are," he murmured, his voice smooth, casual. "It’s rare to find someone so talented and hardworking."
Because now, you saw what Beomgyu saw. Maybe he had been dramatic. Maybe he had been exaggerating. But Seungcheol was flirting with you. And for the first time, you couldn’t ignore it.
You swallowed, keeping your eyes on the papers in front of you, pretending not to notice the way his fingertips lingered a little longer than necessary before he finally pulled away.
This was work. This was a meeting. You weren’t going to make a scene. You shifted slightly in your chair, tucking your arm out of reach, nodding stiffly. "Thanks," you said, your voice carefully neutral.
If Baekhyun noticed anything, he didn’t react. He simply continued walking you through the album structure, his focus locked on the material in front of him. But your focus was gone. Because now, every single word out of Seungcheol’s mouth sounded different.
When he agreed with your ideas, it wasn’t just professional, it was deliberate.
When he smiled at you, it wasn’t just friendly, it was calculated. And Beomgyu’s voice, the one you had sworn you wouldn’t listen to, was ringing in the back of your head, loud and unshakable.
You should be careful with him.
By the time the meeting wrapped up, you were exhausted, not from the work, but from everything else. You had barely finished stacking your papers when Seungcheol stood up, stretching his arms with an easy smile. "Well," he said, buttoning his blazer, "this was productive."
You hummed noncommittally, hoping that was the end of it. But as he reached the door, he paused, glancing over his shoulder at you. "Oh, and by the way—" You looked up. "The invitation still stands," he said, that same smile playing on his lips. "You should drop by my office sometime. I’d love to go over more of your work."
Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. Before you could respond, he was already walking out, leaving you alone with Baekhyun. The second the door shut, you let out a slow breath, pressing your fingers to your temple.
Baekhyun sighed, setting his notes down. "Alright," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I know that look. What’s on your mind?"
You hesitated for half a second before deciding—fuck it. If you didn’t say something now, you were going to explode. "Look," you exhaled, straightening. "You’re my boss. I respect you. I like working with you. But I need to be honest—"
Baekhyun raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
You licked your lips, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "That whole meeting just made me really uncomfortable."
His expression shifted slightly, his features smoothing into something unreadable. "Because of Seungcheol?"
"Yes." You didn’t hesitate. "It’s not just today. It’s been happening for a while. I didn’t want to make assumptions, but now I—" You shook your head, exhaling sharply. "I don’t know. The way he talks to me, the way he acts… It doesn’t feel like it’s just about work."
Baekhyun didn’t answer immediately. He watched you carefully, considering your words before finally sighing. "Yeah," he muttered. "I figured as much."
You blinked. "Wait, what?"
Baekhyun rubbed his temple. "I had a feeling this might happen eventually. Seungcheol has a reputation—he doesn’t always separate work from… other things."
Your stomach sank. "So it’s not just me," you muttered.
Baekhyun hesitated before shaking his head. "No. It’s not just you."
You exhaled, leaning back in your chair, processing. Baekhyun watched you for a moment before continuing, his voice lower now. "Listen, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If he makes you uncomfortable, I’ll back you up. But I also know how these things can be tricky, so… what do you want to do?"
You stared at him. You hadn’t expected that. You hadn’t expected someone to actually ask. You swallowed, gripping the edge of the table. "I just… I just want to do my job."
Baekhyun nodded. "Then that’s what you’ll do."
And for the first time that day, you felt like someone was actually listening. You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. "Honestly… I didn’t want Beomgyu to leave the project."
Baekhyun leaned back in his chair, watching you closely. "Yeah, I figured."
You hesitated for a moment before continuing, choosing your words carefully. "It wasn’t perfect, working with him. We fought a lot. We had different approaches. But the album was better when we were both on it. And now, I don’t know… it just doesn’t feel the same."
Baekhyun hummed thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against the table. "You know," he started, "when he asked to leave, I thought it was weird too."
Your brows furrowed. "Weird how?"
Baekhyun exhaled, tilting his head slightly as if trying to recall the exact conversation. "For starters, the excuse he gave me was bullshit. He said he just had ‘other priorities,’ but it didn’t add up. He didn’t have anything urgent lined up. He wasn’t being reassigned yet. If anything, he was in the perfect position to stay on the project."
Your stomach twisted. "Then why did he do it?"
Baekhyun studied you for a moment before answering. "Because of you."
Your breath hitched slightly. "What?"
"He told me you were the perfect person for this album," Baekhyun said simply. "He said that if anyone deserved to take full control of it, it was you. That you understood the vision, that you had the best instincts for the sound, that this was your project."
You blinked. Baekhyun smirked slightly. "He also said he’d still be available if you needed anything—which was interesting, considering he was insisting on stepping away."
You swallowed, shifting in your seat. "So… he didn’t leave because I was in the way."
Baekhyun raised a brow. "No. He left because he thought he was."
Your chest tightened, your fingers clenching slightly over your notebook. Beomgyu thought he was in the way? That didn’t make sense. That wasn’t how this worked.
You had spent years competing with him, matching his energy, pushing yourself to outdo him the way he pushed himself to outdo you. You thought he saw you as a rival, as someone to challenge, someone to beat.
This didn’t sound like someone trying to win. This sounded like someone stepping aside. And suddenly, for the first time since that damn kiss, you wondered— Had you misunderstood everything?
The meeting wrapped up soon after, but your mind was far from settled. Baekhyun left first, offering you a knowing look as he walked out. Seungcheol was already gone, thankfully, leaving the room feeling a little lighter.
You stayed behind for a moment, fingers tapping restlessly against the table, thoughts still tangled in everything Baekhyun had just told you. Beomgyu thought he was in the way. He stepped back because of me?
The idea felt foreign, almost ridiculous. But the more you sat with it, the more you replayed every interaction, every lingering glance, every almost-argument that dissolved into something softer. Maybe it wasn’t ridiculous at all.
You exhaled sharply, pushing the thoughts aside as you gathered your things and made your way back to your studio. By the time you stepped inside, something had already shifted in you. Because for the first time in days, you wanted to write. Not because of deadlines. Not because of expectations.
But because something inside you was begging to be let out.
You locked the door behind you, took a deep breath, and crossed the room, fingers reaching for the guitar propped against the wall. It had been there for a while, untouched, gathering dust in the chaos of everything else. But the second your fingers curled around the neck, something inside you settled.
You didn’t know why, but you wanted to record this song you wrote on Sunday night. First Day of My Life. You knew it wouldn’t fit the album. It was too raw, too stripped-down, too honest. It wasn’t meant for Enhypen’s project—it wasn’t meant for any project.
But still. You adjusted the mic, positioned the guitar properly, and pressed record. And then, you played.
Your fingers moved over the strings carefully at first, but then muscle memory took over, and suddenly, it was effortless. The chords flowed easily, filling the quiet studio, wrapping around you like something safe, something familiar.
And then your voice followed. The words came soft, steady.
“Yours was the first face that I saw…”
You thought about the way he looked at you when he didn’t think you’d notice. The way his lips parted like he wanted to say something but never did.
“I think I was blind before I met you.”
Your breath hitched slightly, but you kept going, pouring yourself into every note, every word. The melody washed over you, unfiltered and vulnerable, and for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about what came next.
You were just feeling. And when the last chord faded into silence, you opened your eyes slowly, exhaling shakily. You sat there for a moment, staring at the blinking red light on the recorder. Then, without hesitating, you saved the file.
You stared at the tape sitting on your desk. And it stared back.
You had written a post-it, your handwriting slightly messier than usual, because your hands had been shaking when you wrote it.
wanted the opinion of the best songwriter i know.
Your stomach twisted. This was stupid. It was so stupid. And yet, you grabbed the tape before you could overthink it.
The hallways of HYBE were quieter now, most people already heading out for the evening. You didn’t know where Beomgyu was, but you hoped, prayed, that he wasn’t in his studio right now. Because you weren’t ready to see him. Not yet.
Your footsteps were light as you reached his studio door. It was closed, the small light inside turned off. Empty. Good. You slipped inside quickly, ignoring the way your heart was pounding against your ribs. You set the tape down gently on his desk, smoothing the post-it out with your fingers. And then you stepped back. You stared at it for a moment longer, your pulse hammering in your ears.
He might not even listen to it. He might throw it away. He might ignore it completely. But still, you left it there. And as you walked away, your chest felt lighter. Because for once, you weren’t running. You were giving him a chance.
You were late.
Not catastrophically late, but late enough that you were definitely pushing it. Yeonjun had texted you when he woke up, asking why the apartment was unusually quiet, only for you to send back a half-panicked “I overslept, don’t judge me” before practically rolling out of bed.
You hadn’t meant to stay up so late the night before. But lying there, staring at the ceiling, replaying every single second of the last few days in your mind?
That was apparently more important than sleep.
By the time you rushed into HYBE, coffee was your only priority. You barely had time to breathe as you dodged people in the hallway, some of them calling your name, others trying to get your attention.
"Y/N, do you have a second?"
"Hey, I sent you that file, did you get a chance to look at it?"
"Oh, Y/N—can you check in with the Enhypen team later?"
The words blurred together, the weight of everything pressing against you as you nodded, mumbled vague acknowledgments, and kept walking. Because, in the end, none of it mattered. Not right now.
Not when the only thing on your mind was getting to your studio and catching your breath before the day swallowed you whole. You reached your door, exhaled sharply, and pushed it open.
And froze. Because there, sitting casually in your chair like he belonged there was Beomgyu. Holding the tape.
Your stomach dropped. The scene was so eerily familiar that for a split second, you thought you had hallucinated it. The way he was slouched slightly in the chair, the way his fingers turned the tape over slowly, like he was still processing it.
The way his dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, and how, in that exact moment, you saw it. You saw the feeling written across his face. Soft. Open. Maybe even a little wrecked. You sucked in a sharp breath and, without thinking, shut the door behind you. A beat of silence passed.
"You wrote this," Beomgyu murmured, his voice quieter than you expected.
It wasn’t a question. You swallowed hard. "Yeah."
His fingers tightened around the tape slightly. "Was it for the album?"
You shook your head. "No. It doesn’t fit the concept. I just… wanted to record it."
Beomgyu exhaled, slow and measured. "It’s beautiful."
The words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You blinked. He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t throwing in a sarcastic remark, or a smug smile, or anything that would make this easier to brush off. He just meant it.
And it made your chest ache. You shifted slightly, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. "You listened to it?"
Beomgyu nodded, still looking down at the tape. "Twice."
Your breath hitched. "Twice?"
His lips twitched, just barely. "Maybe more." You let out a short, breathy laugh, shaking your head. A pause. "What made you write it?"
Your fingers curled slightly over your cup, heat pressing into your skin. You could lie. You should lie. But you didn’t. You licked your lips, shifting your gaze to the floor for a second before looking back at him. "I don’t know. I guess I just… needed to."
Beomgyu studied you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze settling over you like something heavy. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it, he says: "It felt like something you needed to say."
Your heart stumbled. Because maybe it was just your imagination. Maybe you were hearing things that weren’t there. But the way he said it, like he understood, like he knew.
Beomgyu’s fingers drummed lightly against the tape, his gaze flickering between you and the guitar leaning against the wall. The silence between you felt fragile, like if either of you moved too fast, it would shatter. Then, without a word, he reached for the guitar. You raised an eyebrow as he adjusted it on his lap, fingers testing the strings before looking up at you again. "Pass me the chords?"
You hesitated, but eventually nodded, grabbing a piece of scrap paper and jotting them down quickly. When you slid it across the desk toward him, his fingers brushed yours as he took it, sending something electric up your spine.
Beomgyu studied the chords for a moment, then started playing. Slow, tentative, like he was feeling out the song in his own way. And before you even realized what you were doing, your lips parted—
"This is the first day of my life…"
The words came out softer this time, more intimate. You weren’t just singing anymore, you were sharing something. Beomgyu kept playing, his eyes locked onto you now, his expression unreadable.
"Swear I was born right in the doorway…"
You swallowed hard, voice faltering slightly when you saw the way he was looking at you. Like there was something he wanted to say. But he didn’t. He just kept playing. And so you kept singing.
"Yours was the first face that I saw… I think I was blind before I met you."
Something shifted in the air. You weren’t sure if it was you, or him, or just the weight of everything that had been left unsaid between you two for so long.
But for the first time, it felt like neither of you were trying to fight it.
When the song finally came to an end, the last note fading into silence, Beomgyu exhaled slowly, letting his fingers rest against the strings. And then, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it—
"I’m sorry."
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his voice. "For what?"
He looked down at the guitar, running his thumb absently over the wood. "For dropping the album."
Your chest tightened. "You didn’t have to," you murmured. "I never wanted you to."
He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "I thought… I thought you’d work better without me."
You frowned. "That’s not true."
Beomgyu hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly. "I didn’t want to leave you alone." He inhaled sharply, like he was steadying himself. "But I didn’t want my feelings to get in the way."
Your breath hitched. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears. Slowly, carefully, you asked— "What feelings?"
Beomgyu tensed. For a second, he looked like he wanted to say it. Like he might say it. But then something closed inside him. His shoulders stiffened, his fingers gripping the guitar a little tighter. And when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. More distant. "It’s hard for me."
You furrowed your brows, confused. "What is?"
Beomgyu swallowed, looking down. "This. Talking. Saying things out loud." His lips pressed together for a moment before he let out a soft, humorless laugh. "It’s easy to write about it. To turn it into lyrics. To make it rhyme and feel poetic and beautiful."
He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. "But when it’s real? When it’s not just a song?" He shaked his head. "In real life, it’s harder."
You stared at him, heart twisting. Because this was him. This was Beomgyu without the smirks, without the teasing, without the carefully crafted walls. And for the first time, you realized, maybe this wasn’t just difficult for you.
Maybe he didn’t run because he didn’t care. Maybe he ran because he did.
Your heart pounded, your throat felt tight, but you forced yourself to breathe, to steady your voice. "What did you mean by that?"
He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "You know what I mean."
"Do I?"
Beomgyu let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Come on, Y/N."
There was something in his voice, frustration, exhaustion, something too tangled up in itself to pull apart. You frowned. "I don’t want to assume."
"Right," he muttered. "Because assuming things with me has always worked out so well."
Your chest tightened. "Beomgyu—"
"I—" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, then finally, finally, looked up at you. And god, you hated the way it made your breath catch. The way his eyes, dark and searching, made you feel like you were standing at the edge of something.
Like if you took one more step, there’d be no turning back. But before you could say anything—before he could say anything—the door creaked open.
Both of you turned at the same time.
"Hey," a familiar voice broke through the tension. "Think I left my pen with you earlier."
Seungcheol. His voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and unexpected. He stepped inside, eyes flickering between the two of you, taking in the scene—the guitar in Beomgyu’s lap, the tape on the desk, the way neither of you seemed to be breathing.
You turned toward the doorway, blinking as he leaned against the frame, his usual easy confidence settling into the room like he belonged there. Beomgyu’s entire posture shifted. It wasn’t obvious, no clenched fists, no outright glare, but you saw it anyway. The slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his fingers curled subtly against the guitar.
You exhaled, stepping toward your desk. "Yeah, I think you did."
Seungcheol grinned. "Knew it."
You grabbed the pen and handed it to him, your fingers barely grazing before he pulled away. "Thanks, sweetheart," he said, easy, casual. "See you later."
And just like that, he was gone. The door clicked shut.
The silence that followed was worse than before. You turned back to Beomgyu, and immediately knew something was off. He put away the guitar, his arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his jaw was tight. "You going along with him?" His voice was sharp, cutting.
You frowned. "What?"
"Seungcheol," Beomgyu said, eyes locking onto yours. "You going along with his shit?"
Your frown deepened. "No. What the hell are you talking about?"
He scoffed, shaking his head. "I told you not to trust that guy."
"And I didn’t," you snapped, "I just gave him back his damn pen."
Beomgyu’s jaw clenched, his frustration spilling out in waves. "Yeah? Well, maybe you should know what your old friends are saying about you before you act like I’m being dramatic."
You stared at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, like he was trying to decide if he should even tell you. But then, his eyes darkened, and whatever hesitation he had burned away. "You remember Yunho?"
Your stomach twisted. Of course you remembered Yunho. Beomgyu didn’t wait for your answer. "After you left the party, he came up to me," he said, voice tight. "Started making conversation—asking if I worked at HYBE, shit like that. And then, out of nowhere, he says he knows Seungcheol."
Beomgyu watched your reaction closely, but he didn’t stop. "And then, Yunho tells me he used to fuck around with you," he continued, voice growing harsher, "but dropped you because, in his words, you were ‘too desirable.’"
You flinched. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails pressing against your skin. "What?"
Beomgyu let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. And apparently, Seungcheol’s been waiting for his turn. ‘Dying to get a piece,’ is what he said."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. Your heart pounded. "You’re lying."
Beomgyu’s gaze snapped to yours, sharp, furious. "I fucking wish."
You felt sick. But Beomgyu wasn’t done. "And then," he continued, voice low, "this motherfucker—this piece of shit—starts talking about how he doesn’t go for ‘girls who get around’ because he has standards." Your breath hitched. "That’s what he called you," Beomgyu said, voice flat. "A girl who gets around."
A sharp, ugly silence settled between you. Your pulse was roaring in your ears, rage and humiliation coiling together in your stomach like poison. "You fought him."
Beomgyu scoffed, shaking his head. "No. We talked."
You frowned. "Talked?"
"Yeah," he said, jaw tight. "He was acting like he had some kind of moral high ground," Beomgyu went on, voice sharpening. "Like he wouldn’t go for a girl who’s ‘too easy’—but oh, Seungcheol? Seungcheol was dying for a chance with you. And the way he talked—" Beomgyu exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "It pissed me off."
You swallowed hard, something ugly and bitter crawling up your throat. "So what, you argued with him?"
Beomgyu’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. His expression darkened. "Don’t do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like it doesn’t bother you," he snapped. "Act like it’s nothing when people say shit like that about you. I know you, Y/N."
Your breath caught. Because he wasn’t wrong. But you weren’t about to admit that. The air between you crackled with tension. His expression flickered. You should’ve let it go. Should’ve walked away. But something about the way he was looking at you made something snap inside you.
You shook your head, frustration burning beneath your skin. "You’re exhausting," you muttered, voice sharp. "One second you’re quiet, then you’re nice, then you’re picking fights, then you act like I’m just some coworker—"
Beomgyu’s expression flickered, something dark flashing in his eyes. "You think I treat you like that?"
"You tell me, Beomgyu," you snapped. "Because I have no fucking clue what you want from me."
The words hung in the air like a threat. His jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides. "Don’t act like you don’t know," he said, voice rough. "Act like this is just me playing games—like I’m trying to play with you just for fun."
You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Aren’t you?"
Beomgyu’s entire body tensed. "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes, I’m fucking serious!" You took a step closer, rage bubbling up from every place you had been shoving it down. "You kissed me, Beomgyu. And then you disappeared for a fucking week. No texts, no calls, nothing. And then you show up at work like it never happened—like I should just be fine with that."
His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "It wasn’t like that."
"Then what the fuck was it like?"
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging slightly at the strands, like he was trying to pull himself together. "I needed time."
You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "Bullshit."
Beomgyu scoffed. "Oh, so now I’m the bad guy?"
"You’re not the fucking victim," you shot back. "You don't get to kiss me like that, make me think—"
You cut yourself off, biting down hard on the words before they could spill out. But it was too late. Beomgyu was already looking at you like you had just punched the air out of his lungs. Like he knew exactly what you were about to say.
The air between you was too thick, too charged, suffocating and electric all at once. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his chest rising and falling unevenly. "You think I don’t fucking feel it too?" His voice cracked slightly, rough and raw. "You think this is easy for me?"
Your breath caught. "Then why do you keep running from it?"
Beomgyu exhaled sharply, something desperate in his gaze. "Because I don’t know what to do with it!"
Silence. His confession settled between you like an exposed wire, dangerous and crackling with heat. His jaw clenched, like he hated admitting it, like he hated feeling this much. But then, his expression shifted, morphing into something sharper, something wrecked.
"Fuck, Y/N," he muttered, voice strained. "You don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it."
"Then make me get it!" you yelled, frustration boiling over. "For once in your goddamn life, just say it!"
Beomgyu’s breath hitched. For a second, he didn’t say anything.
"Because I can’t fucking want you this much and still pretend it doesn’t matter!"
Your entire body locked up.
Beomgyu exhaled sharply, chest heaving, his eyes dark and so fucking serious it made your stomach flip. "I can’t—" He dragged a hand over his face, voice lower now, wrecked. "I can’t pretend that this thing between us doesn’t fucking kill me every time I try to ignore it." Your heart was a wildfire in your chest. Beomgyu let out a sharp laugh, one that sounded more like frustration than amusement. "I don’t know how to fucking want you without ruining everything else."
The words hit harder than they should have. The words hit harder than they should have. Because that was it, wasn’t it? That was why he ran. Why he pushed, pulled, disappeared, came back. Why he kissed you and then left.
Because he wanted you. But he didn’t trust himself with you. The realization sat heavy in your chest. And for the first time, you saw it, the fear beneath the anger, the hesitation beneath the frustration.
Beomgyu didn’t just want you. He was terrified of wanting you. And you didn’t know what scared you more. The fact that he was afraid. Or the fact that you weren’t.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was stretched too thin, humming with something neither of you knew how to control. Then, Beomgyu exhaled, deep, uneven. His gaze flickered downward, his fingers flexing at his sides like he wanted to reach for something but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
"I’m sorry," he said.
The words were quiet, but they landed with the weight of something long overdue. You swallowed. His lips parted, then closed. He let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly, like he didn’t even know where to start. "For kissing you," he murmured. "For leaving. For not talking to you for a week like a fucking coward." His jaw clenched. "For making you think that it didn’t mean anything."
You stared at him, heart pounding. "And did it?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Beomgyu lifted his gaze then, something wrecked behind his dark eyes. "You already know the answer to that."
Your breath caught. He was looking at you differently now. Not with frustration, not with hesitation, but with a kind of certainty that sent heat curling in your stomach.
Then, before you could even process it, he took a step back. "Come with me," he said.
You blinked. "What?"
Beomgyu turned, already heading toward the door. "Come on," he repeated, glancing back at you. "I wanna show you something to prove it."
Something in his voice made your pulse jump. Still, you hesitated. "Show me?"
He didn’t answer. Just held the door open, waiting. And for some stupid, unexplainable reason, your feet started moving.
The walk to his studio was silent. Not tense, not uncomfortable, just charged. You could feel it, the way he was holding something back, something big. His pace was quick, purposeful, like if he didn’t move fast enough, he’d lose his nerve.
When you reached his studio, he pulled out a keycard and swiped it, unlocking the door before stepping inside. You followed hesitantly, eyes flickering over the dimly lit space.
Beomgyu didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he walked over to the soundboard, pressing a few buttons, adjusting the controls. A small red light flickered on in the recording booth.
Your stomach flipped. "What are we doing?" you asked, voice quieter now.
Beomgyu turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "I want you to hear something."
And then, he pressed play. A soft, melancholic guitar filled the room. Your breath caught immediately. You recognized it before he even started singing. Moonstruck.
But it wasn’t the version you had heard before. It was him. Beomgyu’s voice. Low, warm, just slightly raspy—vulnerable.
Your mind had barely caught up to the fact that he had recorded this himself when he spoke again. "I think you know why I wrote this," he said, voice quiet, steady. Your head snapped toward him, but he wasn’t looking at you.
He was looking at the recording booth. And then, he moved. Slowly, purposefully, he reached for the door handle and pushed it open, nodding his head for you to follow. "Come here."
Your pulse stuttered. You should’ve stopped. Should’ve said something, anything to break whatever the hell was happening right now. But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind you.
Beomgyu pressed a button near the panel, locked. He finally turned to face you then, and, fuck, he was close. "I don’t want anyone interrupting this time," he murmured.
Your breath caught. The air inside the booth was thick, the music still playing softly through the speakers. Beomgyu took another step forward, and this time, you didn’t move away. "You know what this song is about," he said, voice lower now.
You swallowed hard. "Beomgyu—"
"You know," he repeated, softer.
You couldn’t breathe. Because he was right. You knew. You had known since the first time you read the demo, since the first lyric. This was about you. And now, standing here, locked inside a booth with him, his voice bleeding through the speakers, warm and raw and real, you had never been more aware of it.
Beomgyu reached up then, fingers barely grazing your wrist. Not pulling, not pushing. Just there. A question. A hesitation. You didn’t know who moved first.
Maybe it was him. Maybe it was you. But suddenly, there wasn’t space between you anymore. His hand slid up, over your wrist, your forearm, until his fingers curled gently around your jaw. Your lips parted slightly, breath uneven, your pulse roaring in your ears.
Beomgyu’s gaze flickered down to your mouth. And then, he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t messy, just slow, lingering, like he wanted to memorize the way you felt against him. His fingers curled tighter against your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss, to let himself drown in it.
And you let him. Because right now, nothing else mattered. Not the past, not the fear, not the things left unsaid. Right now, there was only this. Only the music, still playing softly in the background. Only him.
The kiss deepened before you even realized it was happening. Beomgyu wasn’t hesitant anymore. He wasn’t uncertain, wasn’t holding back, he was in it, pressing into you with a kind of desperation that made your head spin. His fingers dug into your jaw, tilting your face just the way he wanted, his lips parting against yours, taking.
Your back hit the wall of the recording booth, and he was on you in an instant, one hand braced against the panel behind you, the other sliding down, grazing the side of your neck, the bare skin of your arm, like he needed to feel you.
You barely had a second to breathe before he kissed you again, harder this time, almost rough, a low sound slipping from his throat as you pressed up onto your toes, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
"Fuck," he muttered against your mouth, voice already wrecked. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."
Your breath hitched. "Then why did you run?"
His teeth grazed your bottom lip, his fingers tightening around your waist. "Because I’m a fucking idiot," he murmured, pressing another kiss against your jaw, then lower, dragging his lips along your neck. "Because I didn’t know if you—"
You cut him off, pulling him back to you, kissing him harder, more insistent. Beomgyu groaned against your lips, his body pressing flush against yours now, his hand slipping down to grip your thigh, hiking it up against his hip. His touch burned, warm and firm, like he needed you closer, needed to close the space that still existed between you.
"Tell me to stop," he muttered, his mouth trailing down, lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Tell me to stop, and I swear I will."
You swallowed hard, fingers digging into his back. "I'm not telling you to stop."
That was all it took. Beomgyu made a low, almost guttural noise, like something inside him had just snapped. The next kiss was different. Messier. Hungrier. His hands were everywhere, sliding up under the hem of your shirt, skimming over bare skin, gripping your waist tight enough to leave bruises. Your body arched into his touch, your breathing uneven, heat pooling deep in your stomach as his fingers dug into your hips.
"Say it," he muttered against your lips, voice rough with something you couldn’t quite place. "Say you want me, too."
You let out a shaky breath, barely able to think. "I want you, Beomgyu."
He groaned, pressing his forehead against yours for a split second before kissing you again, slower this time, but deeper, like he wanted to drown in it. Then, suddenly, his grip tightened. He lifted you effortlessly, guiding you up onto the small ledge of the booth, your legs wrapping around his waist, his body slotting between your thighs like it was meant to be there.
Your pulse roared. He was so close now, every inch of him pressed against you, his breath uneven, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against the skin just above the waistband of your jeans. "You drive me fucking insane," he muttered, his lips brushing over yours between each word. "I can’t think straight when I’m around you."
You barely had time to process that before his mouth was on your throat again, biting, sucking, dragging his lips down and down and down. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, his hips pressing forward on instinct. The friction made you gasp, your legs tightening around him. "Shit," Beomgyu swore, his forehead dropping against your shoulder.
For a moment, neither of you moved. Your breathing was uneven, your body burning, your skin thrumming with heat where he touched you. Then, slowly, Beomgyu lifted his head. His gaze met yours, dark, unreadable. His hands flexed against your waist, like he was trying to ground himself. "I don’t want to fuck this up," he murmured, voice strained. "Not with you."
Your chest ached. Because he wasn’t saying I don’t want this. He was saying I don’t want to ruin it. Your fingers traced lightly along the back of his neck, your breathing still shaky. "Then don’t," you whispered.
Beomgyu swallowed hard. "I’m trying." He was still close. His forehead was still resting against yours, his hands gripping your waist, his body pressed between your legs like he wasn’t ready to pull away yet.
Your breathing was uneven. So was his. And then, like some invisible force snapped between you, his lips were on yours again. This time, there was no hesitation. He kissed you like he had been starving for this, like he was finally letting himself have what he had wanted for so long. His fingers dug into your waist, pulling you against him, his body heat swallowing you whole as his mouth moved against yours, deep and urgent.
You gasped slightly when he tilted your chin up, angling the kiss deeper, his tongue teasing against yours just enough to make your stomach tighten.
You felt like you were burning. Everywhere he touched, everywhere he pressed, lit up. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him let out a low, almost desperate sound against your lips. His hips pressed forward, instinctive. "Beomgyu—" you breathed against his mouth, barely able to think.
"Mm?" He didn’t stop. Just kissed along your jaw, down your neck, biting down lightly at the sensitive skin there before soothing it with his tongue.
A shiver ran down your spine. "We should—"
He kissed you again, cutting off your words, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you steady against him. "Say it later," he muttered, voice rough, lips brushing against yours. "Say it after I kiss you again."
And then he did. Harder this time. Deeper. Your body arched into his without thinking, heat curling in your stomach, your hands gripping onto his shirt to keep yourself steady. You could feel everything. His heartbeat, heavy and uneven against your chest. The way his fingers flexed against your skin like he was trying to memorize the way you felt. The low, unsteady sounds he made every time you moved against him, every time you kissed him back just as desperately.
It was too much. You broke away first, chest rising and falling, trying to catch your breath. Beomgyu didn’t move. He stayed close, lips still brushing against yours, eyes dark and heavy-lidded. Your fingers were still curled in his hair. His hands were still gripping your waist.
"We should stop," you murmured, forcing the words out before you lost your grip on reality completely. "Beomgyu, we’re— We’re at work. It’s not even noon."
Beomgyu let out a slow, shuddering breath. "Fuck." He still didn’t move. You could see it, the way his jaw clenched, his eyes flickering over your lips like he was debating whether to listen to you or keep going anyway. Then, finally, he exhaled sharply, resting his forehead against your shoulder for half a second before stepping back. "Yeah." His voice was strained, rough. "You’re right."
The air felt thin without him against you. You took a slow breath, trying to calm the racing of your pulse, trying to ignore the way your body still buzzed from his touch. His fingers brushed over your thigh before he pulled away completely, straightening his shirt, raking a hand through his hair.
You slid off the ledge, steadying yourself as you smoothed out your clothes. "I should get back to work," you muttered, voice still slightly breathless. "The album—"
Beomgyu gave a humorless chuckle, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah. Right. The album."
Neither of you moved. Neither of you looked at each other. Because you both knew, work was the last thing on your minds right now. But still, you turned toward the door, reaching for the handle. "I’ll see you later," you mumbled.
Beomgyu hummed in response, something unreadable in his expression. "Yeah."
You pulled the door open, and then, just as you were about to step out, his hand caught your wrist. Before you could even process it, he tugged lightly, just enough to make you turn back, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against your lips. It was barely a second. Barely anything. But it hit you like a fucking meteor. He pulled away just as quickly, his eyes flickering over your face, watching your reaction. You didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
Because what the fuck was that? Not the heat, not the urgency, not the kind of kiss that made your head spin and your knees weak, but something softer. Warmer. Something that made your stomach tighten in an entirely different way.
Beomgyu’s lips quirked upward slightly, like he could see the way your brain had short-circuited. "Go work," he murmured.
You blinked. "Right." And then, without another word, you turned and walked out, your heart still pounding.
You spent the rest of the afternoon in your studio. Hours passed. You barely noticed.
The only thing grounding you was the music, the way it pulsed through your headphones, the way it filled every inch of your studio. The way it made everything else, the tension, the heat, the weight of Beomgyu’s touch, fade just enough for you to breathe.
Your fingers moved instinctively, layering melodies, adjusting levels, smoothing over instrumentals. Every track you touched felt electric, the ideas spilling out of you faster than you could process them. Maybe it was adrenaline. Maybe it was something else. But whatever it was, you let it take over.
The hours blurred together, stretching into one long, unbroken moment of creation. A new beat took shape, fast, sharp, pulsing with urgency. You molded it into something heavier, something alive. You adjusted the bass, the synths, the vocal layers, adding a deeper texture, something that ached in all the right ways.
Then another track, smoother, melancholic, intimate in a way that made your chest tighten. You let the guitar linger in places it normally wouldn’t, let the reverb stretch out just enough to make it feel like the song was breathing.
Another, this one bold, unrelenting, filled with heat and confidence. It demanded attention, crackled with something fierce. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Your eyes flickered to the screen as the tracklist took shape in front of you:
XO (Only If You Say Yes)
Your Eyes Only
Hundred Broken Hearts
Brought The Heat Back
Paranormal
Royalty
A solid foundation. A damn good foundation. By the time you finally leaned back in your chair, exhaustion was creeping in, settling into your limbs, but there was a different kind of satisfaction sitting beside it. Because you had done it. Most of your work was done. And maybe, just maybe, you had needed this. The music. The escape. The chance to turn everything swimming in your head into something real.
With a deep breath, you saved the files, powered down your setup, and began gathering your things. Your jacket, your bag, your phone, shoving everything into place as you checked the time. Late.
The sun had already set by the time you stepped outside. The air was crisp, the streets quieter now, the city humming with the distant sounds of life. You exhaled, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder as you turned toward the metro station.
And then—
"You took your time."
Your steps faltered. Beomgyu was waiting. Leaning against the side of the building, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his head tilted slightly as he watched you.
Your brows furrowed. "What are you doing here?"
Beomgyu smirked. "Told you I had until the album dropped for you to change your mind."
You blinked. "Change my mind about what?"
His smirk widened. "About getting a drink with me."
You stared at him. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," he said, pushing off the wall, stepping closer. "You spent the whole day in that studio. You need a break."
Your lips parted slightly, caught between irritation and something closer to amusement. "And you decided you’d be the one to provide it?"
Beomgyu shrugged. "Obviously."
You shook your head, exhaling. "I was planning to go home."
"Okay," he said easily. "You can still go home."
You frowned. "What?"
"After one drink," he clarified. "Then you can go home."
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head again. "You’re impossible."
"And yet," he mused, rocking back on his heels, "you’re still standing here, considering it."
Your jaw clenched. Because he wasn’t wrong. The exhaustion was still there, but so was something else, something that made you hesitate, something that made you want to say yes. Beomgyu noticed.
And so he tilted his head, lowering his voice just slightly. "Come on, Y/N. Just one."
You stared at him for another long moment. Then, before you could stop yourself, "Fine."
Beomgyu smirked, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he led the way. "You know," he mused, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, "you’re a lot more fun when you don’t overthink things."
You scoffed. "I’m not overthinking anything."
He grinned. "Then why do you look like you’re already regretting this?"
You huffed, shoving your hands into your jacket. "I’m not."
Beomgyu just hummed, like he didn’t believe you, but didn’t feel like arguing. Instead, he turned down a quieter street, leading you toward a bar tucked between two buildings, a cozy-looking place, warm light spilling from the windows, the scent of grilled meat drifting through the air.
You hesitated. "This is where we’re going?"
Beomgyu glanced at you, amused. "Why? You don’t like barbecue?"
Your stomach growled at the thought. You sighed. "I do, a lot."
He just smirked, pushing open the door. Inside, the atmosphere was just as inviting as the smell. Low, warm lighting. Laughter. The quiet clinking of glasses. The faint crackle of meat sizzling on the built-in grills at the tables. It was comfortable. And you hated that it made you relax a little.
Beomgyu led you toward an open table near the back, sliding into the seat beside you instead of across from you, leaning back like he had done this a thousand times before. Which, knowing him, he probably had. "You come here a lot," you muttered, glancing around.
He grinned. "I have good taste."
You rolled your eyes. A server appeared, and Beomgyu barely had to glance at the menu before ordering beef short ribs, pork belly, a few side dishes, and two cold beers.
You raised an eyebrow. "Ordering for me now?"
Beomgyu shrugged, tapping his fingers against the table. "You like barbecue. You like beer. I connected the dots."
You leaned back, crossing your arms. "What if I suddenly decided I hate all those things?"
Beomgyu smirked, resting his chin in his hand as he looked at you. "Then you’d be lying." You narrowed your eyes at him.
The beers arrived first. Beomgyu picked up his glass, tilting it slightly toward you. "To finishing most of the album in one day."
You huffed, clinking your glass against his. "To having nothing better to do than drag me to a bar."
Beomgyu just grinned before taking a sip. The beer was cold, smooth, the kind that went down easily after a long day. And as much as you hated to admit it, this, the warmth of the place, the comfort of the food, the quiet hum of conversation around you, felt nice.
You set your glass down, glancing at him. "Alright," you muttered. "You win. This isn’t terrible."
Beomgyu smirked, leaning in slightly. "High praise coming from you."
You scoffed, taking another sip. "Don’t get used to it."
And then, the food arrived. Plates of sizzling meat, steaming side dishes, the aroma so good that your stomach twisted with hunger. Beomgyu grabbed a pair of tongs, flipping the short ribs on the grill, moving with too much ease.
You eyed him. "You really come here a lot."
He smirked. "Told you."
You sighed, watching as he expertly cooked the meat, barely thinking before reaching for the lettuce wraps, stacking up the perfect bite, then placing it in front of you. Your eyebrows lifted. "Are you seriously making me food right now?"
Beomgyu shrugged, sipping his beer. "What, you want me to feed it to you, too?"
You scoffed. "I can make my own wrap, Beomgyu."
"Yeah, but I already did it." He nodded toward the plate. "So eat."
You rolled your eyes but took it anyway, biting into the warm, flavorful wrap. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the hunger, or the fact that Beomgyu was sitting so close, watching you eat with an amused expression, but something about this moment made your chest feel too full. You pushed the thought away.
"So?" he asked, watching you chew.
You swallowed, setting your chopsticks down. "It’s fine."
He snorted. "You are so bad at compliments."
"No," you corrected, taking another sip of beer. "I just don’t like boosting your ego."
Beomgyu grinned. "Too late for that."
The conversation flowed easier after that. The second beer turned into a third. The food disappeared, leaving just the sound of clinking glasses, the occasional glance that lingered too long, the way your shoulders brushed when you leaned forward to reach for something.
Somewhere between another drink and another teasing remark, you realized something: You were having fun. And Beomgyu knew it. His smirk never wavered, his eyes never left yours for too long, his voice never dropped that teasing lilt that made your pulse stutter more than it should. And maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe it was just him.
But as you sat there, half-listening to him ramble about some ridiculous story, you realized, you didn’t really want the night to end. And by the time the last plate had been cleared and the third beer had been emptied, you were warm all over. Not drunk. Just loose.
The world felt a little softer around the edges, your limbs lighter, your thoughts slower but comfortable. Beomgyu, across from you—no, beside you, because he had sat next to you like it was the most natural thing in the world—was in the same state, his body relaxed, his usual sharp-edged energy dulled by alcohol and good food.
You tapped your fingers idly against the table, staring at the condensation on your glass. "So," you muttered, "you never told me—what do you think of the album name?"
Beomgyu blinked, then frowned slightly, turning his head to look at you properly. "What album name?"
You exhaled, stretching your arms over your head. "The one Baekhyun’s thinking about. ‘Files of Romance.’"
His reaction was instant. Beomgyu made a face like you had just told him the worst news imaginable. "Nah, not my personal taste."
You raised an eyebrow. "You hate it that much?"
"Hate is a strong word—" he paused, reconsidering. "—but yeah, I fucking hate it."
You laughed. "Why?"
Beomgyu turned in his seat, facing you fully now, one arm resting on the back of your chair. "Because it sounds like some 2010 Wattpad fanfiction. ‘Files of Romance’—what is this, a collection of love letters? A secret diary? An unfinished manuscript?*"
You smirked, tilting your head. "It’s poetic."
"It’s cheesy," he corrected.
You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of beer. "Okay, then what would you call it?"
Beomgyu hummed, thinking for a moment. Then, he looked at you. And something in his gaze shifted. His smirk faded, not completely, but enough for you to notice the way his expression softened slightly. "Romance: Untold."
The words settled between you like something heavy. Your fingers stilled against your glass. "Untold?"
He nodded. "Because that’s what this album is, isn’t it? All these songs, all these stories—" he tapped his fingers against the table, voice dropping slightly. "It’s about things people don’t say out loud. Feelings left unsaid. The in-between moments, the things you can’t admit, the things you only let yourself feel when no one’s looking."
Suddenly, this wasn’t about the album anymore. Beomgyu wasn’t looking at you like a producer talking about work. He wasn’t critiquing an idea, wasn’t just throwing out another title. He was talking about you and him.
Your lips parted slightly, heart picking up speed. "That’s…" you hesitated. "That’s actually not bad."
Beomgyu grinned. "Not bad? Come on, admit it—you like it."
You exhaled, shaking your head. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re predictable," he countered easily, taking another sip of his beer. "You act like you hate everything I say, but deep down, you know I’m right most of the time."
You scoffed. "Most of the time?"
"Mm-hmm." He leaned in slightly, his smirk turning just a bit more smug. "Like right now."
Your eyes narrowed. "Beomgyu—"
"Say it," he murmured, voice lower now, the playful edge still there but thicker, like something else was creeping beneath it. "Say you like the name."
You exhaled sharply, pressing your lips together. He was so annoying. But also, he was right. You sighed. "Fine. It’s… a good name."
Beomgyu smirked, triumphant. "See? I always win."
You rolled your eyes, taking another sip. "You don’t always win."
"Pretty close to always," he teased, nudging your leg under the table. "And anyway—" his gaze flickered over you briefly before settling on your lips. "I get the feeling you like it when I win."
You swallowed, shifting in your seat, trying to ignore the way your skin felt hot under his gaze. "You’re drunk."
Beomgyu smirked. "Tipsy."
"Same thing."
"Not even close." His fingers tapped against his glass, his smirk lingering. "You just don’t wanna admit I’m fun outside of work."
You snorted. "Fun is a strong word."
"And yet," he murmured, leaning in slightly, "you’re still here."
He wasn’t wrong. You could’ve left at any time. You could’ve said no to this drink. You could’ve cut this conversation short the second it started feeling like more than just talking. But you didn’t. And now, sitting here, so close to him, so aware of every movement he made, every glance, every shift in his voice, you couldn’t pretend that it was just because of the album anymore.
You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to look away. "We should probably head out soon."
Beomgyu hummed, like he knew exactly what you were doing but didn’t feel like calling you out on it. "Yeah, yeah."
Neither of you moved. Instead, he let his arm stretch across the back of your chair, fingers tapping against the wood in a slow, easy rhythm. "Romance: Untold," he repeated, more to himself now. "Yeah. I like it."
You exhaled. "Me too."
And somehow, you knew, this wasn’t just about the album. This was about you and him. The story neither of you had told yet. But one that, deep down, you both knew was already being written.
The night air was cooler now, a crisp contrast to the warmth still buzzing under your skin from the drinks. The street outside the bar was quiet, only the occasional car passing by, headlights flickering against the pavement.
Beomgyu stretched his arms over his head, then shoved his hands into his pockets. "Alright, let’s get you home."
You raised an eyebrow. "You’re not driving."
"Obviously not," he said, rolling his eyes. "I’m not a fucking idiot."
You let out a breathy laugh. "So what’s your plan?"
Beomgyu tilted his head, smirking. "Gonna take the subway with you."
You blinked. "You don’t have to do that."
"I know." He started walking. "Come on."
You hesitated, but ultimately followed, falling into step beside him. The subway station wasn’t far. The streets were quieter here, the hum of neon signs flickering against the damp pavement. It felt… nice. Comfortable. Like the two of you had slipped into something easier than usual.
The train arrived just as you stepped onto the platform. You both boarded, sliding into a seat near the back of the car. "So," you mused, resting your head against the window. "Tell me something I don’t know about you."
Beomgyu hummed, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Something good or something stupid?"
"Good," you said. "And don’t say something obvious."
Beomgyu smirked, tapping his fingers against his knee. "I’ve wanted to do music since I was ten."
You blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah." He leaned back, gaze flickering up toward the train ceiling like he was remembering something. "I used to listen to my older brother’s CDs all the time—Nirvana, Radiohead, The Strokes, My Bloody Valentine. I’d sit in my room with those shitty little wired headphones and just obsess over the sounds, the production, the way the lyrics hit different when you were alone in the dark."
You tilted your head, watching him. "I never took you for a rock band guy."
Beomgyu scoffed. "What, you think I only listen to industry shit?"
"I mean… kinda."
He clutched his chest dramatically. "Wow. The disrespect."
You laughed. "Okay, okay. What’s your favorite album of all time?"
Beomgyu exhaled, tapping his fingers against the seat. "Damn. That’s hard."
"Come on," you nudged his knee with yours. "You’re a music guy. You have to have a number one."
He thought for a second. "‘Loveless’ by My Bloody Valentine."
Your brows lifted. "Shoegaze?"
"Shoegaze," he confirmed. "That album changed me."
You smirked. "Oh, so it’s that serious?"
"It’s life-changing serious," he said. "I mean, listen to ‘When You Sleep’ and tell me that shit doesn’t make you wanna dissolve into the floor."
You chuckled. "Okay, fine. I’ll listen."
"You better."
The conversation flowed easily after that. Beomgyu rambled about different albums, breaking down the exact moment he fell in love with certain sounds, which producers he admired, which live performances made him feel something real.
And you listened. Really listened. Because even though he talked a lot—too much, sometimes—this was different. This was Beomgyu talking about the thing he loved. And it made you want to know more.
By the time you reached your stop, the train car was nearly empty. The streets were quieter now, the air even cooler. Beomgyu walked beside you, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his usual smirk still tugging at his lips. And then, without warning, his arm slung over your shoulders.
You stiffened. "What the hell are you doing?"
Beomgyu grinned. "Relax. You looked cold."
You scoffed, but didn’t pull away. "You just wanted an excuse to be annoying."
"And?" he teased. "Is it working?"
"Always."
Beomgyu chuckled, squeezing your shoulder lightly before letting his arm stay there, draped over you like it belonged there. And, for some reason, you let it. By the time you reached your apartment building, the air between you had shifted again, lighter, charged, something humming just beneath the surface.
Beomgyu turned to face you, his smirk softer now. "Well, that was fun."
You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You admit I’m fun now?"
"I didn’t say that." He grinned. "I said that was fun."
You rolled your eyes, stepping toward your door. "Whatever."
But before you could reach for the handle, Beomgyu caught your wrist. You turned. And suddenly, he was right there. Closer than he had been all night. The teasing was gone from his face. His eyes flickered between yours, his fingers still wrapped loosely around your wrist. And then, he leaned in. Slowly. Deliberately. Like he was giving you time to stop him.
But just as his lips were inches from yours, the door swung open.
"Well," Yeonjun’s voice rang out, amusement laced through every word. "What do we have here?"
Your stomach dropped. Beomgyu’s entire body went rigid. Yeonjun grinned, stepping onto the porch, holding a tied-up trash bag in one hand. "I was just taking out the garbage, but this is much more interesting."
You groaned, pulling away from Beomgyu instantly. "Yeonjun."
"What?" Yeonjun feigned innocence, looking between the two of you. "I didn’t know we were having late-night meetings outside the apartment."
Beomgyu exhaled sharply, pressing his fingers against his temple. "Great timing, dude."
"I try my best." Yeonjun smirked. "So… are you gonna kiss, or should I give you some privacy?"
"Yeonjun, I swear to God—"
"Alright, alright, I’m going!" He held up his hands, stepping off the porch with a laugh. "But we will be talking about this later, Y/N."
You shot him a glare as he disappeared down the walkway, humming to himself. The second he was out of earshot, you huffed. "Unbelievable."
A beat of silence passed. "So…" Beomgyu shifted, glancing at you. "Where were we?"
A slow smirk tugged at Beomgyu’s lips. His head tilted slightly, his eyes flickering down to your mouth, just for a second, just enough for your breath to catch. He was waiting. Waiting to see if you’d push him away, if you’d roll your eyes and disappear inside, if you’d cut this tension off before it turned into something real.
But you didn’t. And that was all he needed. Beomgyu took a slow step forward, closing the space between you with the kind of confidence that sent your heart slamming against your ribs. His fingers brushed against yours, hesitant for only a moment before he tilted his chin down, leaning in. And then, finally, he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t urgent or rough or anything close to what you had before. It was gentle. Soft in a way that made your stomach flip, slow in a way that made your knees feel weak, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way you felt beneath his lips. Beomgyu wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t taking. He was giving. And you let yourself take it.
Your fingers curled against the front of his jacket, tugging slightly as you kissed him back, sinking into the warmth of it, the quiet rightness of it. Beomgyu let out a soft sound against your lips, half a sigh, half a laugh, before tilting his head slightly, deepening the kiss just enough to make your stomach tighten.
His hand came up, brushing against your cheek, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to remember this. Like he had wanted this for too long. You could feel his smile against your mouth, feel the way his fingers flexed slightly, like he wanted to pull you closer but was holding back.
And then, someone cleared their throat. Loud. Pointed. Beomgyu stilled for half a second, then pulled back, blinking like he had just been shaken out of something. Slowly, almost painfully, you turned toward the sound.
Yeonjun. Standing in the hallway. Arms crossed. Smirking. "Really?" he mused. "Right outside the door?"
Your stomach dropped. "Yeonjun—"
"You guys didn’t even wait five minutes after I left?" he continued, shaking his head. "Damn, Beomgyu. You work fast."
Beomgyu groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "For the love of God—"
Yeonjun just grinned as he stepped inside. "Don’t let me stop you. I was just coming back."
You wanted to die. You wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole. Beomgyu exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath before taking a small step back, running a hand through his hair.
You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your skin burned. "I should go inside."
Beomgyu looked at you, his expression unreadable for half a second before he smirked. "Yeah. Probably."
You hesitated. "Goodnight, Beomgyu."
He tilted his head. "Goodnight, Y/N."
And then, because he couldn’t help himself, he leaned in one last time. A quick, teasing peck against your lips. Barely a second. Barely anything. But it sent your stomach spiraling.
Then, before you could even react, he turned toward the stairs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "See you at work," he called over his shoulder. And with that, he disappeared.
The second the door shut behind you, your back met the wood, and you let out a sharp breath. What the fuck just happened? Your fingers hovered over your lips, the ghost of Beomgyu’s kiss still lingering, the warmth of his touch still burning on your skin. Your heart was still racing, your mind still spinning, and—
"Oh, this is so good," Yeonjun’s voice cut through your spiral, full of glee.
You groaned. "Please. Shut up."
author's note: i hate to do this… but we’re getting a part 3. there was just too much to fit into this chapter, and things are about to get tense next time. if you want to be on the taglist for the next part, let me know in the comments!
ALSO i wrote this fic way before beomgyu even announced PANIC 😭😭 so pls go give him all the love bc he looks AMAZING the song is perfect and i swear the beomgyu i wrote is the same beomgyu who wrote panic did i just win????? 😭💘
warnings/tags: professor/student au, college setting, legal age gap, strict professor beomgyu, organized top student reader, risky public sex, almost getting caught, buildup, desk usage, praise kink .. probably missing tags
a/n: request for anon! this is my first fic after quite some time so i’d love to hear any criticism as long as it isn’t rude please!
you have never missed a single deadline in your entire academic career, but you are also completely whipped over your professor.
it started exactly in september, the third week of classes, when he handed back your first paper. you got an a plus and a single comment written in dark red ink at the bottom of the last page: excessive but correct. you looked up from your desk and he was already watching you with that low expression on your face, arms crossed over his chest, like he was waiting for you to argue about the comment he left. like he was daring you.
you didnt argue though. you just nodded and glared at him then wrote the comment down in your lecture notes and spent the rest of the semester trying to get him to look at you the same way again. like you were a problem he hadn’t solved yet.
you wanted to be completely wrapped around his finger.
you started wearing skirts to class, ones that were short enough to when you bent over even the slightest bit, he could take a small peak. you started staying after to ask questions you already knew the answers to, just to stand close to his desk and embrace his presence while he explained things in that low serious tone. you knew you were being reckless and you knew it but you couldn’t stop. you had never wanted anything more than this.
its november now, three weeks before finals, and you have a paper due on friday. you finished it last tuesday, but you go to his office hours anyway on thursday at four pm because you have a question about the footnote format… at least that’s what you tell yourself when you check your reflection in the window of the building, while you smooth out your plaid skirt and straighten your white, almost see through blouse and make sure your hair is neat while it flows down your back.
his office is at the end of the hall, small and cluttered with books stacked on every surface possible. you knock three times gently, the way you always do, and you hear him say "come in" in that voice that does things to your spine.
you push the door open then you see that hes sitting at his desk with his reading glasses on, frowning at something on his laptop, and he looks up when you enter. his expression doesnt change but his eyes do something complicated when he sees that its you. something that makes your stomach flip completely.
"close the door," he says.
you do. you click it shut and turn the lock without being asked, the way you always do. you sit in the chair across from his desk with your legs crossed at the ankle and your notebook open to the exact page you need, with your pen ready.
beomgyu looks up from his laptop and his expression doesnt change but his eyes do something complicated when he sees its you. something that looks almost like hunger before it shutters back to complete professional disinterest.
"miss y/n," he says. "what brings you here today at this hour? your paper is not due until friday."
"i finished early," you say. "i wanted to clarify the footnote format for the citation. the library has it formatted differently."
beomgyu doesnt look at your notebook. he is looking right at you. at your throat where your pulse is beating way too fast. at your hand resting on the edge of his desk, close to his own.
"you are always careful," he says quietly. "always prepared. you have never submitted a paper with one single error. not once this entire semester so far.”
"i like to do things correctly." you answer quickly.
"do you." it is not a question. he turns in his chair and now you are standing between him and the desk, trapped in the space he has created. "or do you just like to impress me?"
your breath catches. "i dont know what you mean…"
“yes you do." he stands up. he is much taller than you and he uses it, he steps forward until you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. "you sit in my front row in your perfect outfits with your perfect notes and you answer every question like you are performing for a show. for whom, miss y/n? for the class? or for me?"
your mouth is dry and your voice trembles. "for the material."
"liar," he says, and there is something almost soft in it. "you have been acting different for me since september. since you took that comment on your first paper and decided to make me notice you."
"i didnt decide anything."
"no?" he reaches out and touches your face gently, just his thumb brushing against your cheek, and you stop breathing. "you planned this y/n, you planned your teasing outfit and your question and the way you would stand just close enough that i could smell your sweet perfume. you are too organized for accidents. so tell me. what is the plan you have set up? what do you want from me?"
you look up at him and you see it, the way his hand is shaking where it hovers near your face. he is not as controlled as he pretends. he never has been.
"i want you to stop being my professor," you say. "just for an hour, please. i want to see what happens when you are not grading papers and setting up strict rules."
"and then what?"
"and then i want you to ruin me," you whisper. "i want you to mess up my perfect attendance and my perfect grades and my planning. i want you to make me forget about it all."
beomgyus hand closes around your jaw. his grip is firm, possessive, nothing like the polite personality he maintains in class. "you’re driving me crazy," he says. "do you understand that? i’m only your professor. this is my office and if anyone found out i would lose my job. you would be in quite a lot of trouble, this is not some fantasy where there are no harsh consequences."
"i know," you say. "thats why i want to make this quick."
his eyes flash. he kisses you.
it’s not gentle and it’s not careful. it’s complete biting and tongue while his hand is pulling on your hair, making your head go back to give him better access. you make a noise against his mouth and he swallows it, pressing your back against his desk until you are sitting on the edge and he is standing between your legs. his other hand goes to your waist and pulls you closer and you can feel how hard he is through his pants.
"you planned this," he says against your lips.
"as always," you gasp.
"then plan to be quiet for me," he says. "because i’m going to fuck you on this desk and you are not going to make a single sound. can you do that? can my best student follow simple directions?"
"yes," you breathe. "yes, professor choi."
he groans at the title and the way you speak. his hands go to your blouse and he starts unbuttoning it with fast movements, but he pauses when he gets to the third button. there is a hard knock at the door.
you freeze. beomgyu goes still, his hand on your chest, while he covers your mouth with his free hand.
"professor choi?" a voice calls. it is another student, you recognize her voice from the second row. she is in your section. "are you there? i have a question about the assignment."
beomgyu looks at you. his eyes are dark, completely unlike the controlled man who teaches your class. he should tell her to come back. he should push you away. he should do a dozen things that make obvious sense.
instead he says, "one moment," and his voice is steady, and professional. he looks down at you and raises an eyebrow. "under the desk," he mouths.
your heart stops. then it starts racing so fast you feel terribly dizzy.
you slide off the desk and onto your knees. he guides you with a hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently until you are crawling under his desk, hidden in the shadowed space between the front of his legs. it’s tight and dark and you can hear and see him settling back into his chair, the wheels creaking slightly.
"come in," he says.
the door opens. you can see your classmates feet from your position under the desk, her white sneakers and the hem of her jeans. she walks in and sits in the chair you were just occupying earlier before things between you and professor choi got crazy
"im sorry to bother you," she says. "i know office hours are almost over."
"it is no bother," beomgyu says. his voice is calm, patient, exactly the way he sounds in class. "what is your question?"
"its about the citation format. for the paper."
you almost laugh. you would, if your heart was not beating so loud to where you are sure she can hear it. she is asking about the exact thing you asked about. the thing that started all of this.
"the paper is very specific," beomgyu says. you see his hand reach for a pen on the desk above you. "you must include the access date for electronic sources. here, let me show you."
he leans forward to write something and as he does, his other hand finds your head under the desk. his fingers messing through your hair then tightens, guiding you forward until you are pressed against his legs. you understand exactly what he wants.
your hands go to his belt. your fingers are shaking but you manage to unbuckle it quietly. he is still talking your classmate, his voice steady and perfect as if nothing was happening.
you pull his cock out of his underwear and he is hard and so heavy in your hand. you hear his breath hitch slightly but he covers it with a cough.
"are you alright, professor?" the other student asks.
"just a cold," he says. "continue. what else is confusing you?"
you lean forward and take him into your mouth.
he tastes exactly like how you imagined. you have to work carefully in such a small space, your head bumping against the underside of the desk, your knees aching on the hard wooden floor, but you have never done anything this crazy in your life and you can’t back down now.
you swirl your tongue softly around the head and slide down as far as you can. his hand in your hair tightens, pulling slightly, and you feel him twitch in your mouth.
"so for the quote," he says, and his voice is still mostly steady but there is a roughness underneath now, a tension, "you would format it like this."
he writes something on the paper he is showing her. his hips shift, pushing up slightly into your mouth, and you take him deeper. you can feel him throbbing against your tongue and it makes you soaking wet, the knowledge that you are doing this, that you are under his desk sucking him off while he tutors another student, that you have reduced this strict, disciplined man to this.
"that makes sense," she says. "thank you so much. i know i ask a lot of questions."
"it is my job to answer them," beomgyu says. his hand is gripping your hair so tight it hurts but you do not stop. you bob your head even faster, using your hand on what can’t fit, and you feel his thighs tense under your palms.
you want him to come. you want him to lose control in his own office with a student sitting just inches away. you want to be the one thing that breaks him.
"is there anything else?" he asks, and his voice is strained now, barely holding on.
"no, thats all. thank you again."
"of course. close the door on your way out."
you hear her stand, then walk to the door. you hear it open and then close and then you hear beomgyu let out a breath that sounds like a prayer.
"you," he says, and his voice is wrecked, "are going to be the death of me."
you pull off long enough to say, "should i stop?"
his hand tightens in your hair. "if you stop i’ll fail you out of spite."
you laugh, the sound vibrating around him, and he groans. then he is pulling you up, out from under the desk, and he is kissing you again, desperate and messy. he lifts you onto his lap as he sits on his chair still and pushes your skirt up around your waist.
"you’re perfect," he says against your mouth. "you’re perfect and impossible to deal with and i have thought about this since the first week of class."
"thought about what?" you ask, breathless.
"thought about fucking you while you sit on my lap in my office while you wear that skirt. thought about ruining your perfect life with extra credit assignments that involve you on your knees.“
he pulls your underwear down your legs, lifting you up a bit on his lap. you gasp. he pushes two fingers inside you without warning and you arch back, knocking over a stack of papers.
he moves his fingers inside you, finding the spot that makes you see absolute stars, and you bite your lip to keep from crying out. you’re already so close, just from thinking about the risk, from the moment under the desk, from his fingers inside you.
"please," you whimper. "please, need you inside me."
"professor choi," he corrects, but he is already unbuttoning his shirt, already lining himself up. "say it properly."
"please professor choi," you beg. "fuck me. please."
he pushes in.
you both moan. he’s huge and hot, filling you completely. he pauses for a moment, breathing hard, his forehead against yours.
"you take it so well," he murmurs. "look at you. my best student. so perfect for me."
"move," you whisper. "please move."
he starts slow, thrusting deep, while he guides your hips on his lap, but it does not stay slow for long. he picks up the pace, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, and the chair starts to creak.
"you wanted your professor to fuck you in his office, hm?"
"yes," you cry out, too loud, and he covers your mouth with his hand.
"quiet," he warns, but he is smiling, that severe expression finally cracked into something fond and desperate. "my perfect princess, you’re going to come for me, arent you? you’re going to come on my cock and take me all in?”
the words send you over the edge. you clench around him, your orgasm rolling through you, and he keeps fucking you through it, chasing his own release. when he comes he buries his face in your neck, biting down hard to muffle the sound, filling up inside you with your name on his lips.
you stay like that for a long moment, his face buried in your neck while your head rests on his shoulder on his ruined chair, breathing hard. his hand is still over your mouth slight and he moves it now, gently, brushing your hair back from your face.
"your paper," he says, "is getting an a."
you laugh, breathless, "youre ridiculous."
"im all yours," he says, it sounds like a promise. beomgyu grins, that pleased smile that you have only seen in your dreams until now. "my office is always open at all times for my top student."
"your only student," you correct.
"my only student," he agrees, and kisses you until there is only him and the way he tastes.
a silly continuation of "pretty privilege", but can be read as a stand-alone.
"showing off your incredibly hot and sexy boyfriend is fun until you realize that others also want your incredibly hot and sexy boyfriend. the mere thought of it is enough to make you murderous."
taehyun x fem! reader
Genre: established relationship, fluff, smut, pwp
Word count: 2.2K
warnings: not proof read im sorry, dare i say the softest switch x switch… mc kinda doms for two seconds before it switches to soft dom!tyun x sub! mc, dry humping, raw sex, pet names (honey, love, baby, etc), hair pulling, scratching, breast play, creampie, mc is possessive it's kinda scary, but tyun matches her freak so it's ok, extreme fluff ahead they're so in love and it hit me like a bag of bricks,, i didn't see it coming (lmk if i should add anything!)
notes: another one thank you
posting taehyun was the best and worst thing you've ever done— you always knew your boyfriend was hot, itching to show him off to the world, but you never expected other's to be so… vocal about the shared sentiment.
"baby," taehyun's voice has managed to become distant, biting your nails as you scroll through the comments section of your newest video— it was a transition video you took during your trip to the beach, an attempt to show off your newest bathing suit and the pretty dress you got for the day out; instead, you're scrolling through endless comments yelling and drooling about your boyfriend— the reaction pictures, the emojis, the 'can you fight?' comments— it's all enough to bring your blood to a boil, your teeth grinding down against your acrylic nails.
"honey," taehyun's hand comes up to snag your nail from your teeth— you look up to find equal parts amusement and concern on his face, "stop it, you're gonna bite the charms off."
even during times like these, where you feel you might just rip someone's head off from the sheer frustration you feel, taehyun still manages to make your heart skip a beat; of course, you shouldn't ruin your fresh set, much less the one he paid for— he's holding your hand so gently, running his thumb across your knuckles as he examines your face marred with stress.
"what's wrong love?" his eyes flicker to the phone you're holding with an iron-clad grip, "did someone send you a weird message?"
at the reminder of your problem, your eyes flicker down to the comments section you've yet to click away from— and your eyes catch onto a certain comment that reads "guys… i found his @ >_<", unable to stop yourself from checking the replies that all beg and scream for taehyun's handle to be revealed— you think you feel your eye twitching as your gaze snaps back to your boyfriend.
you knew he looked incredible when you were filming those videos. it's why you posted them in the first place! his honey skin positively glowed under the sun, his eyes shining cutely and his dimple popping out when you had him follow along with your silly transitions— the tight tee he wore all day that outlined his body perfectly and revealed a bit of his stomach when he raised his arms was definitely eye catching, not to mention the small portion you included of you two jumping into the water, with him shirtless; muscles on display, his long necklace hanging behind his back as the picked you up before dumping the two of you in, turning around and flashing the camera a perfect shot of his broad back— fuck, your teeth are grinding together at the mere realization that there are other's who are drooling over him, even going as far as searching for his personal account…
taehyun is beginning to feel more concerned the longer you stare at him like you might just kill someone; what was meant to be a quiet unwinding before bed has turned into trying to defuse the ticking bomb you've become, your jaw clenching as your eyes begin to trail along taehyun's body— he gulps, watching the way your eyes trace over every last detail, your gaze darkening at what you see.
it all changes in the blink of an eye; you're tossing your phone on the bedside table, crossing your arms against your chest and slumping back into the pillows with a deep pout; though you pretend to watch the documentary taehyun put on, he can tell you're not taking in a single thing.
"baby," he's scooting close to you, sitting up on his forearm as he hovers over you, "what's wrong?"
you frown. "how's your instagram doing?"
"huh? it's fine," you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, and he raises a brow, "i had to private it. i was getting a bunch of random followers."
you slap your hands on your face, letting out a deep groan— fuck. you knew it!
"people are so fucking weird," you grit out, your mood worsening by the second— taehyun merely looms over you, his bright eyes clouding with worry, lips jutting out into a pout— he looks so cute, it's pissing you off. "drooling all over you as if your girlfriend isn't right fucking there."
taehyun tries hard to suppress the small smile that pulls at his lips— he really does— but it's impossible when he watches the way you melt deeper into the bed like a kicked puppy.
"is that what this is all about?" there's a teasing lilt in his voice that make you send him a sharp glare, "you gettin' jealous, baby?"
your frown deepens, and you sit up, "is this funny to you?"
"no, it's cute," he smiles up at you, "'cause now you know how i feel."
"no, no this— this is different," taehyun has failed to defuse you, but he doesn't seem to care much as he watches you rant with a fond glint in his eyes. "when people approach me, i tell them about you— i only think about you, tyun. but online, it's like— i can't control what these freaks are saying about you!"
you sneer, biting at your thumb nail again, "they know you're mine, but they don't care. they actually think they have a chance."
you're off in a world of your own— jealousy is rampant in your gaze that falls onto taehyun, shifting to straddle him while he lays back in bed, his hands coming to rest on your hips.
"you're all mine, right?"
"of course my love," he purrs out.
"it's just not fair," you pout, your hips gaining a mind of your own— you just can't help yourself. not when taehyun is staring up at you with those soft, hopeless eyes, shining with admiration as he presses his hips against yours. not when you can feel his thick length getting harder the more you rub your cunt against him, wearing nothing but his shirt and thin panties that begin to stick to your folds, "i can't stand the way they talk about you."
leaning down, you put your hands against taehyun's chest for support— a particularly firm press against his cock has his brows furrowing, groaning softly as he watches the way your hips more. "yeah? like— like what?"
"like they wanna eat you up," he's fully hard against you, and you're shifting so you can grind your clit against the tip of his cock, "like they see what i see."
"as if they could ever get your hands on you," scoffing, you're haste to pull your boyfriend's cock out, pushing your panties to the side and teasing his leaking tip along your entrance— his fingers dig into your hips, teeth gritting together at the way you leak onto him— your walls flutter at the sudden stretch as you sink down onto him, your sharp eyes taking in the way he falls apart beneath you.
pushing his shirt up, you're raking your nails down his chest just to watch the way a blushed trail of lines appear on his skin— his stomach clenches, flinching when you grip his waist and begin to move on his cock, bouncing your hips and picking up a harsh rhythm that fills the room with sounds of skin slapping against skin; the more you watch your boyfriend struggle to keep up with you, mouth falling open and pretty moans falling from his lips, the more you can feel yourself get worked up.
"y-y'know, i get so many comments on our posts together— saying we're not gonna last," you grit out, angling your hips so his cock can brush perfectly against your walls, clenching down on his thick length, "they act as if you'd actually— f..fucking leave me for them."
"i'd never," taehyun pants out, his eyes rolling back as you slam down on him, "i… only have eyes for you, baby."
"yeah?" you whine, thighs burning as you continue to bounce on your boyfriend's cock, your hips stuttering as he rubs circles on your clit, "i just— i want everyone to know you're n-not… not going anywhere…"
"want them to know i'm all yours?" he's sitting up, adjusting your position so he can meet you halfway, thrusting up into you— he's leaving haste kisses all along your neck, pushing up your shirt until he can kiss along your chest, sucking your nipples and swirling his tongue along the sensitive buds; you're nodding frantically, weaving your fingers into his hair to pull him closer, until your bodies are flush together.
he's trailing back up along your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive spots on your neck before leaving a gentle kiss on your jawline, his lips lingering there, "maybe i should just be your husband then?"
it feels like someone has sent an electric current up your spine— the word husband has you shivering, clenching down on taehyun as your fingers pull tighter at his hair; he moans at your reaction, nipping at your skin and thrusting up into you harder.
"f-fuck, please," you cry out, his lips continuing to suck and kiss at your neck, wandering back down to your breasts— you can feel the pleasure building up, threatening to crash at any moment, "want you to be— fuck!— mine, just mine!"
"i've always been yours," he murmurs against your skin, "and i can be yours forever."
"yes, yes, please—" your heart pounds at the mere thought: taehyun, yours. forever. "i'm gonna cum, fuck, tyunie, oh my god—"
you've lost control of your body, and taehyun is more than happy to step in, his grip on your waist bruising as he guides your body up and down his cock, slamming your hips all the way down to the base. when he feels your walls fluttering around him and your body tense, he reaches to rub tight circles on your clit, placing a soft kiss just under your ear.
"my cute little wife just feels so good, hmm?" the words roll off his tongue and are sweet like honey, your brain short circuiting as you nod, "cum on my cock, pretty."
your body is tuned to his every command, your climax hitting you full force— your cunt flutters around his length, the overwhelming pleasure making you scramble to hold onto something— instead, you drag your nails down taehyun's back, the points of your acrylics digging into his skin and drawing out a long groan from taehyun, setting off his own orgasm; he holds you down against him, rolling his hips up into you as the two of you ride it out, the room silent save for your pants and soft whimpers from the sensitivity.
his body is firm, warm against yours; you can feel his lips tracing along your skin, peppering gentle kisses along your jawline, his hands smoothing up and down your waist; you pull back to get a good look at him, his eyes fluttering up to meet your gaze and a small smile tugging at his lips.
"hey," you say softly, brushing back his bangs; he hums, leaning into your touch, "did you really mean what you said?"
"of course i did," his voice quiets, seemingly flustered— he avoids your gaze as he continues. "you're someone i want to spend the rest of my life with."
"i've thought of this before," he confesses, looking back up to find your dumbfounded expression, "have you?"
"i— i have," you breathe out, your pulse racing— there's this charged feeling the rest of the night as you begin to talk about it more seriously, in thorough details; you settle into taehyun's arms with a restless heart, the only thing racing in your mind being the prospect of truly having taehyun be all yours.
♡♡♡
the day after, you sulk when you check taehyun's account, finding his follower count has quadrupled— no, you tell yourself, it's fine, you shouldn't be so worked up over this. when you go to tap on his story upload by instinct, any insecurity and worry washes away instantly— lo and behold, taehyun has posted a picture of him on duty— but… when you take a closer look, you find the pendant of his chain hanging low on his back, brushing against familiar red lines that span along his honey skin, highlighted just enough by the setting sun. you feel like someone has knocked the air out from your lungs, texting your boyfriend— soon to be fiance— with frantic fingers.
get home now.
i need you.
your response comes back instantly.
yes ma'am.
be there soon.
taehyun is bursting through the door fifteen minutes later— by the time you're done with him, you've left marks from beneath his ear to his pelvis, a particularly deliberate mark left on his chest in the shape of a heart; he allows you to rest on top of him as he lays back, wincing whenever he shifts— when you pout and apologize for scratching him so hard, he shakes his head, brushing back your hair with a fond smile.
"don't be sorry, love," he murmurs, "y'gotta show everyone who i belong to, right?"
ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Your older brother, Beomgyu, was recruited by BigHitEnt, which means him making new trainee friends and bringing them home. It wouldn't be surprising if one of them is your type. Stealing glances at him from your room while they're playing video games or when you are forced to tag along cause "you'll feel left out". Later on, you were recruited by a different company, PLEDIS. Now being busier and away from home more often, you forgot about your little crush— until HYBE acquired the company you're under, being closer to him as ever.
JUST IN ! Soloist, Choi Y/N being the next new co-host for the upcoming music show a long side Tomorrow x Together's Kang Taehyun!
pairing kang taehyun x choi Y/N
╰┈➤ smau + written parts, idol au, fluff, angst
warnings swearing, sexual jokes, smut (?), jealousy, toxic (will be added more if needed)
status ongoing
links main masterlist
taglist open!
notes haha.. kind of nervous guys.. this is like my first time writing again after a long time~~ please bare with me as im not a very experienced writer.. i still do hope yall will like it! there will be some ooc moments and that i will probably have an inconsistent schedule posting as i am a college student (つд⊂)
texts between you and your ex boyfriend (who you may or may not still have some feelings for)
# ex!beomgyu x fem!reader
mini text au non idol exes oneshot
WARNINGS mentions of kissing , mostly fluff / crack / angst , swearing , mentions of drinking , jealousy , y/n is a VERY dry texter , really bad humour probably
NOTES i kinda hate this #tbh i had an idea in my head but i had no clue how to execute it properly and ended up with this . anyway yay beomgyu hiiii beomgyu
SYN ' it's a fact that your cute next door neighbor is one, annoying (in a good way?) and two, so goddamn lazy. but when he's serious, fuck that stupid mouth of his sure looks pretty damn kissable.
PAIR ' choi beomgyu x f!reader
GNR ' university au, neighbor au, stranger to friends(?) to lovers
꒰❄️꒱ A blizzard strands your train in the middle of nowhere, and the only inn with a room left has one bed. You don’t hesitate to book it with the charming stranger who’s been keeping you company.
⤷ ゛ This story is part of the One Bed Series .ᐟ.ᐟ
⊹ wc .ᐟ 22.4k
pairing: Choi Beomgyu x afab!reader
tags: strangers to friends to ?, mutual pining and micro-flirting, sexual tension, they get stranded on a train, in the middle of a snowstorm, yearner!beomgyu, mention of injury, slowburn in a train setting because i fucking can [probably missed some]
[MDNI] smut warning: explicit sexual content, fingering, oral (f.), nipple play, he grinds against reader's knee, he humps the mattress while eating reader out, cums in his pants, he also begs, dom!beomgyu (but pathetic and madly in love), one instance of him being a little possessive, some fluffy moments, multiple orgasms, protected sex (huzzah!), sliight pain kink if you squint, mating press, implication of multiple rounds at the end [definitely missed some]
yun's ☕: *cricket noises* i bring offerings after my suspicious disappearance. anyway that’s enough about me.
You stared at your phone with a sigh that turned faintly visible in the chilly air.
It was colder at the station than you thought it would be when you left your apartment. There wasn’t enough insulation anywhere to stop the biting chill from finding its way through the walls and floors of the underground station. A draft swept underneath the sliding glass doors at the front entrance and teased your ankles repeatedly as you paced. Commuters bustled around you in small groups beneath the mounted television near the waiting bench; the murmurs of their conversations punctuated by small clouds of breath as the newscaster droned over images of snow-whitened roads.
“…the blizzard is expected to intensify by late afternoon. All travelers are advised to reconsider non‑essential trips…”
You exhaled slowly and watched the condensation fog your phone screen momentarily before it dissipated. Regret pooled heavily in your stomach. You should have known better than to pick this particular weekend to go home — the rare long break that had lined up perfectly with your schedule and, with spectacular inconvenience, also happened to coincide with the worst winter storm of the year. Too late to reconsider now. The ticket was bought and the bag was packed and you were already here, which was more than halfway committed by any reasonable measure.
When the train whistle sounded and the engine glided into the station on a billow of frost, you shrugged off what remained of your better judgment and fell in with the sluggish crowd moving toward it. Passengers bundled up in heavy coats brushed shoulders with you and you were swallowed by a ripple of low-toned conversation.
The luggage wheels chose that exact moment to give out.
They jammed in the narrow gap between the platform’s edge and the train’s step. It lurched to an abrupt halt that jolted your arm forward. You tugged once but it wouldn’t budge. Tugged again, harder, putting your body into it — the handle creaked but the wheels held fast.
Restlessness rippled through the people behind you in line. Heat flushed your neck as you crouched down trying to yank the damn suitcase free, not wanting to hold up the line for much longer.
Not today. You started to panic. Please, not today.
“Need some help there?”
The voice came from just behind you.
You didn’t turn all the way to face him — just bobbed your head in thanks. “Yeah, please. Thank you.”
His hand slid past yours and the cuff of his coat sleeve brushed yours as he knelt down next to the suitcase. One hand gripped the handle while the other nudged underneath just enough to shift the wheels out of the corner. Lifted it slightly and twisted, and it popped free.
He straightened without comment and took the handle, stepping onto the train and glancing back only briefly to make sure you were following. You nodded hastily and climbed up the narrow stairs. Face still burning, you walked along the aisle behind him and led him towards your seat.
“It's just this row,” you said, pointing.
At your seat, he hoisted the suitcase up in one clean motion — higher than his head, without any visible hitch — and you watched his arms complete the arc of it that gave you a funny feeling in your belly. Before you quite realized it, your eyes had followed the line of his arms all the way to his hands. You finally got a good look at his face when he turned to you.
Strong lines along his jaw and eyes that warmed when they met yours. A few strands of dark hair had fallen loose from the rest of his neatly combed-back style, resting across his forehead. It was somewhat unfair for a stranger on a train to look like that.
“Thank you,” you said, your hand going up automatically to check the suitcase was properly secured. “You really saved me from the embarrassment back there.”
He glanced at it once more and gave it a small push to seat it further in, then stepped back to give you room to pass.
“Don’t mention it. Happens to the best of us.” He rested his hand briefly on the back of your seat to steady himself as someone edged down the aisle behind him. “Those gaps catch wheels more often than people think.”
You laughed despite yourself as you sank into the window seat and pulled your jacket closer around your shoulders. “Guess I'm just the unlucky one who got chosen tonight.”
His lips moved into something that wasn't quite a smile yet but was heading there. He rapped his knuckles against the suitcase gently, like to make sure it wouldn’t fall off on you. Then he gestured towards the row in front of you, indicating his seat.
“Mine's a couple up.”
“Thank you again,” you said as he turned to go.
He glanced back over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, and this time the smile completed itself. “Happy holidays,” he replied before continuing down the aisle.
“Happy holidays,” you whispered quietly to yourself.
You weren't entirely sure how happy it was shaping up to be.
The inside of the train was dim and catatonic. Departure had already been pushed back thirty minutes in the hopes that any remaining passengers would hurry and get on board before conditions made the journey inadvisable. Even so, large pockets of empty seats remained scattered throughout, and the untouched headrests gave the entire compartment a strangely hollow appearance.
The seat directly across from yours was unclaimed. So were most of the others within eyeline.
A small stroke of fortune, perhaps. You could hardly blame them. Considering the warnings that were on every news channel, it seemed likely that most people with flexible plans had chosen to remain safely indoors instead of venturing across the country through a rising blizzard. The ones who had shown up tonight were the ones who couldn't afford the postponement, who had reasons that outweighed the inconvenience of a winter storm bearing down on the railway line.
You fell squarely into that category. It had been too long since you had last made the trip home and when the long weekend appeared on your calendar, the trip had felt too convenient to postpone. Canceling would have been the sensible thing. You had considered it, and then the thought of putting it off again had guilt building up. So you had packed a bag and come anyway, blizzard warnings and all, which was either devotion or stubbornness and at this point you weren't certain there was a meaningful difference between the two.
Under ordinary conditions the journey was supposed to take just over two hours. Judging by the sound of the wind working itself against the windows before the train had even cleared the city, the estimate felt increasingly optimistic.
For the first half hour of the journey, you did little more than watch the passage of the evening through the window. The sky held the last of the day's color — pale rose bleeding into silver at the edges as the sun dropped behind a low line of hills, and the first snow began to fall into the fading light. Started as a scattering of delicate flakes drifting lazily through the air which was barely noticeable against the dimming horizon. It was a rather pretty sight.
Within minutes the flakes multiplied and thickened, merging into a pale curtain that swept across the open countryside in waves. The train’s headlights cut out a small area of movement through the white until there was very little left to look at except the storm itself. Watching it for too long produced a faint, swimming sensation behind your eyes.
A chime sounded through the carriage, followed by the soft crackle of the train’s announcement system. The conductor’s voice came through the speakers, informing that due to deteriorating weather conditions along the route, the train would be reducing speed and making several unscheduled stops to ensure the safety of everyone on board.
Your earlier suspicion had aged into confirmation. This wasn't going to be the usual two-hour ride to Daegu. If the weather kept building at its current rate, the journey could easily stretch to twice the original estimate, possibly more.
There was only so long anyone could watch an unbroken wall of snow before the mind began casting around for something else to do with itself. Some coffee would be a lot more appealing than staring at bleakness, you thought, and it nudged you out of your seat. You made your way down to the snack car. It was marginally brighter than the passenger compartments. A slim counter ran along one side with an attendant moving briskly between shelves and heating units.
The display offered little in the way of temptation.
Plastic-wrapped pastries lay under heat lamps that had long since deprived them of whatever freshness they might have once found. A shelf of microwaveable items occupied the adjacent space. Nothing about it looked particularly appealing, and you could almost feel the sodden heaviness that would come an hour later if you dared to take more than a mouthful. Hardly ideal considering the uncertain length of the journey ahead.
Despite that, the shelves were emptying at a surprising pace. Passengers seemed less concerned with quality than availability, gathering whatever remained before the options disappeared altogether. The sight prompted you to make your decision quickly.
You purchased a couple of the lemon cream buns stacked near the register along with a cup of coffee. The buns looked harmless and would likely sit far better in your stomach than the alternatives. You deemed it a sensible choice.
With your small collection of supplies in hand, you glanced around for somewhere to sit. A small table near the wall was the only vacant one remaining. You slid into the seat and set the buns down in front of you, curling both palms around the cup. The train rocked more noticeably here than in the passenger car — a slow, side-to-side sway that rattled through the fixtures and occasionally produced a low creak from the metal frame of the carriage when a particularly aggressive gust found the side of the train.
You set your coffee down and reached for your phone. Your mother had sent four messages since the departure delay, each one a variation on the same concern, and you owed her a call before the evening went any further. The dial tone attempted to connect, held for a few seconds, and then dissolved into silence without going through.
You pulled the phone from your ear and looked at the screen — the network icon in the corner was flickering back to life then fading again. You angled the phone toward the window on the off chance that the extra distance might persuade the signal to cooperate.
Unfortunately, the same result followed. You clicked your tongue, irritation simmering just beneath the surface.
“Can I sit here?”
Your heart gave a startled jump before your brain had fully registered the voice, and you looked up to find the handsome stranger from the platform standing at the edge of your table. He balanced himself by bracing one hand against the tabletop as the movement of the carriage rocked him slightly where he stood. In his other hand he carried a small packet of food.
“Sure—please, go ahead,” you said quickly, sitting up straighter and nudging your paper bag a little farther to the side to clear the space.
He dipped his head in gratitude and lowered himself onto the seat beside you. The train chose that exact moment to lurch forward with a particularly pronounced sway that made him huff a quiet laugh. He settled, set his food down, and met your eyes with a look that carried the trace of whatever that almost-laugh had been.
“I hope you don't mind. Every other table seems to have been claimed.” He glanced briefly around the car before returning to you. “I figured since we'd already spoken, it’d be less awkward than asking a complete stranger.”
“I don't mind at all,” you said, shaking your head with emphasis. “Besides, I doubt anyone on this train is turning down company tonight.”
His lips curved in a gentle smile. “Then I’ll do my best to make sure the company isn’t disappointing. I’d hate to abuse such generous hospitality on our second meeting of the evening.” His gaze held something like assurance, almost as if he were hoping you’d enjoy his presence as much as he would enjoy yours.
“Well,” you murmured, settling back and holding your coffee close, “in that case you’re very much welcome to the table.”
He unwrapped his meal and you noticed he hadn't thought to get a drink. You looked at your own coffee, still warm between your palms, and then back at him.
“You know,” you added, motioning towards your own cup, “I’ll grab you something to drink—might make the night ahead a little warmer.”
He looked up immediately and raised a hand in protest. “You don't have to do that—really, you've already given me the seat.”
“It’s really not a problem,” you insisted, rising halfway before he could object again. “You helped me earlier, remember? Consider it repayment.” You paused, letting him gather his thoughts before continuing. “Coffee or tea? Whichever you prefer.”
He hesitated for a moment before conceding with a small nod. “In that case,” he said, glancing briefly toward the counter, “coffee would be great.”
You returned shortly after with a cup of coffee. He sat up straighter once you approached.
“Here you go,” you said, holding it toward him.
He took it with both hands and bowed his head in thanks. After taking a small sip he set the cup down and extended his hand.
“I should have done this properly earlier,” he said. “Choi Beomgyu.”
You repeated his name in your head over again after he said it, savouring the sound. Lingering on the taste of each syllable with a strange attention you couldn’t quite place. As you gave your own introduction, you took his hand and shook it, and noted that it was warm — still carrying the heat from the cup. Just like his name.
You felt your phone buzz suddenly.
“One second—sorry, my mum's been waiting to hear from me,” you said, quickly placing the phone to your ear while flashing him a look of apology.
Turning slightly in your seat, you focused on the call while explaining the situation to your mother. The connection crackled occasionally beneath your words, forcing you to repeat yourself once or twice as you reassured your mother that you were still on the train and that the delay had only stretched the journey, not halted it entirely.
Every so often, when you glanced up mid-sentence, you caught him looking at you over the rim of his cup. The simple exchange sent a curious flutter through your chest; it was pleasant in a way that made you unexpectedly aware of the moment.
“Are you visiting family in Daegu?” he asked once you’re done talking.
You nodded, pulling your scarf down from around your neck and draping it across your lap. The snack car had warmed you up enough that keeping it wrapped felt excessive. “I haven't been home in a while.” You rested your hands atop one another on your lap, tapping your fingers together absentmindedly in a restless habit you had never quite managed to outgrow. “You?”
“Daegu as well.” The corners of his mouth lifted. You had the same destination as him, which meant he could spend time in your company longer. “My brother is getting married. The ceremony is the day after tomorrow, actually. I didn't have much choice about traveling tonight, storm or not.”
“Wait, really? That's wonderful!” You leaned forward with a delighted sound, your hands lifting slightly in excitement before you caught yourself and laughed. “Congratulations to him—to your whole family, I mean.”
Beomgyu laughed as well, the sound bright enough to draw a brief glance from someone seated a few tables away. “He's been sending me photos for weeks,” he said, already reaching into his coat pocket for his phone. “Here, let me show you a few—”
He scrolled through the gallery while angling the phone between you on the table so both of you could see. You instinctively found yourself leaning in for a better view.
The photos moved past in an affectionate chronicle — a smiling couple holding up their hands to show the rings, a table full of family at what looked like a celebratory dinner. The particular beautiful pandemonium of wedding preparations filling someone's living room with fabric samples and flower arrangements and people who all seemed to be talking at once. In nearly every image, Beomgyu's brother and the woman beside him were either laughing at the camera or turned toward each other with the telltale glow of two people eagerly awaiting the day ahead.
You caught yourself smiling purely for them, not for any reason beyond simple happiness.
“They look so happy,” you said, pausing on one photo in particular — the bride-to-be with a streak of flour across her cheek, laughing beside his brother in the middle of what appeared to be a thoroughly failed baking project.
Beomgyu leaned in slightly to see which one you had stopped on, and his shoulder brushed yours as he did. Neither of you moved apart. “That was their attempt at baking their own engagement cake,” he said, the laugh already back in his voice. “My brother maintained for weeks that it was the best thing he'd ever eaten. Nobody else who tried it agreed with him.”
“He was protecting her feelings,” you said immediately.
“Almost certainly.” He scrolled to the next photo, which showed the same couple holding up a lopsided, fondant-covered disaster with matching expressions of pride. “Although he did finish the whole thing, so either he meant it or he has genuinely terrible taste.”
You laughed, and Beomgyu looked at you when you did. He should have torn himself away after a second. Instead, he stayed there watching you through the sound of it, gaze softening which he failed to hide in time.
God, he could get used to hearing that.
The next few were different from the others — older photographs, more personal. A family of four around a dinner table crowded with dishes. A blurry snapshot taken outdoors where two boys stood shoulder to shoulder beneath a vibrant blue sky, squinting into the sun. Another picture showed the same boys years later, taller now, though their expressions suggested they had been persuaded into the photo rather than volunteering for it.
Beomgyu walked you through his memory lane and told you little stories behind every photo. You listened and watched his face more than the screen.
You focused on a photo of his father caught in a candid moment with a glass raised toward the camera. You stared at it and then back at Beomgyu, and it required very little imagination to picture how those features might settle with age — how his face may look five, ten years from now etched with laugh lines and softer features. Older, but still the same.
It gave you this tight feeling in your chest that felt oddly misplaced. You had known this man for barely an hour, but the simple act of looking at the people who raised him and listening to him talk about his life — it had begun to create the faintest sense of connection that you hadn't been looking for and weren't sure what to do with.
“I really hope I make it there on time,” Beomgyu said, more to himself than to you, his eyes moving toward the window. “I promised I'd be there early—there were a few things I said I'd help with before the ceremony. That promise is starting to feel a little ambitious.”
You followed his gaze toward the window where the glass had begun to cloud faintly. Snow tore past it in dense white streaks, illuminated only when the train passed the occasional line of track lights.
“Optimistic,” you offered. “And I think it’s perfectly fine to be optimistic in times like these. If anything, it gives others peace of mind.”
At this point optimism was the only resource anyone aboard the train seemed to possess. Every passenger you had seen since boarding the train bore the same tell tale demeanor. Hoping and praying that the weather would let up and that they would make it to their destination.
Beomgyu liked that you had taken his pessimism and returned it to him reframed, and it made him curious whether the calm in your voice was something you actually felt or something you had decided to project for the benefit of the people around you. He suspected it was genuinely both and made him wonder if that calm would hold if he pushed the thought a little further.
“Maybe,” he conceded, glancing once more at the window. “If it doesn’t work out, I suppose I'll just end up stranded somewhere along the line with everyone else who gambled on the weather tonight.” He gave a small shrug, though the thought clearly amused him. “Could be worse outcomes.”
“Significantly worse,” you agreed, lifting your coffee cup. “We're inside, at least. Stranded on a train is categorically not the worst version of stranded. But, like, I still wouldn't want to spend the night here in that situation.”
He let that settle for a beat, glancing around the carriage with a brief, contemplative sweep before his eyes returned to yours. The smile that followed came out slowly, like he had given himself a moment to decide whether to say the next thing and had concluded in favor of it.
“I suppose that's only true depending on who you're stranded with.”
It was a miraculous testament to your abilities that you kept yourself from blushing at his words. What you did end up doing was burn your lips on your coffee in an attempt to conceal your smile.
You flinched with a small hiss, pulling your bottom lip inward between your teeth and dragging your tongue across it in a futile attempt to address the sting. Beomgyu straightened so abruptly his knee knocked the underside of the table.
“Hey—careful,” he said, offering a folded tissue. “Are you alright?”
There was visible concern in his voice, but still the question ended with a faint breath of laughter he clearly attempted to suppress. You took the tissue and pressed it to your lip, narrowing your eyes in playful reproach. His smile turned apologetic that softened his entire face. The sight had an unfortunate effect on you. Your attempt at indignation dissolved before it could fully form, and the reprimand you had intended never reached your lips.
“It's fine,” you said, lowering the tissue and testing your lip with a light press of your finger. The sting had already softened to a mild throb, manageable enough that your attention had moved on to the more pressing issue of what had come out of your mouth in the seconds after it. “Besides, that was probably the most action my lips were going to get tonight anyway.”
You got a sickening sense of ick arriving after you finished speaking, crawling up from your stomach to the back of your throat in a slow, nauseating wave. It wasn’t that you wanted to make it sound pitiful. You had not meant it as flirtation either, goddammit — that was the honest truth. And the honest truth was somehow worse, because it meant you had simply said something pathetic with complete sincerity and no strategic intent whatsoever. You sounded splendidly sad and misleading.
Slowly, you lowered your hand away from your mouth. You steeled yourself for embarrassment at the very least or polite sympathy at worst — but you found neither on Beomgyu's face. There was no trace of pity in his expression, no awkward hesitation that might suggest he had begun reassessing the stranger in front of him after he was confronted with a confession he had not asked for.
“Tell me about it,” he said with a barely concealed knowing smile.
“Seriously?” You raised your brows, scoffing softly. “I wouldn't have guessed that about you.”
You meant that sincerely.
He was attractive — there was no point pretending otherwise. He had also been kind and considerate; a gentleman. Whether it meant anything beyond good manners was a separate question entirely.
Still against your better judgement a small, selfish thought surfaced.
That’s convenient.
You crossed your legs beneath the table and shifted in your seat, applying what willpower you had left to the project of not following that thought any further down the path it was heading. It was a limited supply of willpower. Beomgyu was not helping.
If his deft handling of your earlier remark had not already charmed you, the way he reacted now had already gotten to you. He looked away, if only for a second, gaze dropping to the table as a shy smile graced his lips. It was not avoidance so much as a brief retreat, as though he needed the space of a heartbeat before returning to you. When he did return to you, there was a faint flush dusting his cheeks that he appeared entirely unaware of.
Oh.
You were getting smitten by this man far too quickly. You needed to slow down. You were very aware that you needed to slow down.
“It's kind of you to say that.” He exhaled a short laugh, turning his coffee cup in a slow half-rotation against the table. “No, I mean—it really hasn't been that long. But no.”
You nodded, more to fill the space than anything else. Fortunately, your conscience was still alive and you used the moment to remind yourself of a few things. Charm could be fabricated just as easily as it could be genuine. People could present themselves well and say the right things in ways that made you forget to question what was underneath. None of what Beomgyu had shown you tonight proved anything on its own.
The reminder was sound. It lasted approximately four seconds.
“I was actually supposed to bring someone to the wedding,” he added, like an afterthought. “Didn’t quite work out that way.”
You perked up at the new information. “Why’s that?”
He tongued the corner of his lips, hemming and hawing how much he wanted to share. “Explaining the full absence of a plus one,” he said, with a self-deprecating tilt of his head, “might genuinely take longer than the rest of this journey.” He paused. “I could go into it, if you don't mind sitting through the sad highlights.”
“We’ve got time,” you said, gesturing at the window. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere anytime soon.”
The apples of his cheeks puffed up as if he had been waiting for permission to continue.
But you never got to hear what happened, because somewhere behind you, the sound of a child’s crying echoed through the carriage. Instinctively, your head turned.
A young woman stood a few steps away, shifting a restless toddler against her shoulder while scanning around for an available seat. The train’s swaying had an evident effect on her posture and she adjusted her hold with visible strain.
“We should give her the table.” You glanced once at Beomgyu before nodding toward the woman.
He followed your line of sight and got the cue immediately. He was on his feet in the blink of an eye, and when the woman approached he gestured toward the seats with a smile. “Please—it's all yours.”
Instant gratitude spread across her features. She thanked you both as she settled in with the toddler, and you wiped the faint ring your cup had left on the table while Beomgyu moved the spare chair aside to give her more room. It was not a long exchange, but it carried an undercurrent of understanding that needed no elaboration. Then, just as quickly, you left the snack car together.
Within the dim confines of the vestibule, you slowed your pace and stole a glance back at him.
“Um—” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking ahead rather than at him as you spoke. “If you don't hate the idea of company, there's an empty seat across from mine. You could sit there, if you want—I don't think anyone's coming around to check tickets tonight.” A small pause followed, then you quickly added with an almost self-conscious, “Only if you're comfortable with it, though.”
The amber light caught your face as you turned back toward him, illuminating your features in such a dreamy way that caught him entirely off guard. It pooled along the curve of your cheek and the line of your mouth, and when you looked up at him — he momentarily lost the capacity to breathe correctly.
He had been mesmerized by your eyes from the moment at the platform. He’d known then that you'd be difficult to forget. Now, at this proximity, with your attention fixed on him, they seemed to undo whatever composure he had managed to gather over the last few minutes.
He would be an idiot to say no. A spectacular, irredeemable idiot.
“I don't mind at all,” he said, falling into step beside you. Only God knew how he didn’t trip over his own words. “That's genuinely a better offer than where I've been sitting. The man next to my seat has decided that I was a reasonable substitute for a headrest.”
Your startled laughter was music to his ears. The stupid grin on his lips refused to tame down — because he was the one who made you laugh. Call it stupid, which it honestly was, maybe even a little embarrassing, but he was already helplessly besotted with you.
You led him back through the carriage to your row and slid into the window seat, and he settled into the one across from you. The closeness here was different than before, but welcomed by you both.
He leaned back against the seat and ran a hand through his hair, and you watched him do it with your chin resting on your hand.
"Where was I?" he asked.
"Your mystery plus one," you said. "You were about to explain."
"Right." He exhaled, dropping his hand back to his lap. "Right."
A blind date arranged by a close friend, one he trusted enough not to question the introduction. He recounted every detail that led him to start that year-long relationship with a rueful self-aware smile, because he already knew how ironic it sounded.
He had believed in her completely. That was the part he kept returning to — by strengthening that belief, the memories forged during their time together felt as though they were permanently branded onto his soul. A year passed before the foundation of it showed its first fractures, and by then they had accumulated enough that he couldn't point to a single moment where things had gone wrong.
It hadn't been betrayal in the way people typically meant when they used the word. Messages that went unanswered until well into the night, accounted for with an explanation that was just plausible enough to accept. A promise that became a lie so gradually that the transition was invisible until it was already complete. Moments where he'd raised a concern and watched it get brushed aside so lightly that he'd found himself questioning whether he had read the situation correctly. None of it had seemed large enough to name at the time, yet each instance had gathered somewhere in him and piled up little by little.
He told you how she’d invented minor crises just to see if he would react, and how he had mistaken that scrutiny for care. It sounded foolish now that he could hear himself saying it, he acknowledged. She had tested the bounds of his patience and taken advantage of the trust he gave her freely. He then explained how he had called her out on it more than once and she had come back with some half-assed excuse, some bullshit story that had a cute twist at the end and had him questioning his own intuition.
Melancholy had draped itself over his face, painting his lips when he reached the parts that still cost him something to say. She existed as this fantasy, presented herself as a version of a person that matched him so well he had attributed it to compatibility rather than a lie. It wasn't until she slipped, until he caught the tail end of a phone call he hadn't been meant to hear, that the full shape of it became visible to him all at once.
She hadn’t loved him; she had loved being loved by him.
It had taken him far longer than he was comfortable admitting to understanding the difference between those two things, and longer still to work out what it meant for everything he thought he had known about the year they had shared. Because when she left his life she took her reasons with her and left him only answers to cobble together from the fractures of her decisions.
You found it difficult to hold yourself at a distance from what he had shared. He was objectively someone you barely knew — someone whose life intersected yours for the briefest of moments. You were supposed to suspend your trust in these circumstances, that a narrative spun in a place and time like this could become whatever version the narrator needed it to be. You had reminded yourself of this already tonight, more than once, and it had helped less each time.
Because there was something about him as he talked that tethered his words to the haunted yearning he struggled to hide.
Raw honesty had a particular quality that was very difficult to sustain without it being exactly what it appeared to be, and what you were watching was not someone shaping a narrative for your benefit. It left you wondering, with a growing sense of disbelief, how someone who spoke with such care and openness could have been met with so little of it in return.
“Did your friend know?” you asked. “The one who set up the blind date—did he know what she was like?”
Beomgyu pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head slowly. The rueful smile returned, directed more at the memory than at you. “Taehyun had no idea,” he said. “If he had, he wouldn't have pushed me into it. He felt terrible when everything came out—kept apologizing for weeks, wouldn't let it go no matter how many times I told him it wasn't his fault.”
“Taehyun?” You blurted out, eyes going wide like saucers. Your sudden rise in volume in turn startled him. “Kang Taehyun?”
“Yeah,” he answered, hesitating for a brief second before adding, “Do you… know him? I mean—it's not a rare name, there are probably—”
“No, hold on,” you muttered, already scrolling through your gallery with growing urgency until you found what you were looking for. You turned your screen toward him, leaning across the space between your seats. “This Taehyun. Is this him?”
Simultaneously leaning forward, creased eyebrows crinkling up and mouth falling agape in recognition, he pointed a finger at your screen.
“That’s Taehyunnie,” he chortled. “Yes—yes! That's my friend. That's him.”
“You’re kidding.” You pulled back with a laugh of your own that came out slightly unhinged, pressing your palm briefly to your forehead. “He's my friend too.”
He fumbled for his own phone, unlocking it with hurried movements and swiping into his gallery. He held his screen beside yours, flipping through a series of photos — some from school days and others more recent, Taehyun in various configurations with a younger-looking Beomgyu across several years.
“Look—this is us. This one was last year,” he said, tapping a photo of the two of them against the backdrop of the Han River at night.
“What are the actual odds,” you said, shaking your head slowly. “How does that even happen.”
“The world is ridiculously small.” He huffed out a breath. “Which university?”
“Same as him. Same department too,” you said, sitting up straighter now, the earlier heaviness of the conversation completely overturned. “We were year mates.”
“I've known him since school. We ended up at different universities but we never lost touch.” He let out another incredulous laugh. "I can't believe I've never seen you around.”
“He never mixes his people.” With deft fingers, you quickly texted Taehyun asking about Beomgyu. You hoped the network was cooperating. “I don't think I've ever seen him introduce anyone from different parts of his life to each other.”
“That explains a lot. He’s always been like that,” Beomgyu said, nodding. "I've met maybe two people from his university years, and both times it was accidental."
This unbashful feeling of giddiness was so, so stupid, but you didn’t feel the need to hold yourself back anymore. How narrow could the world be? How could it be, that you had wandered unknowingly alongside him for so long? Something that had felt like a wall between you — the stranger-ness of him — had just been pulled away. Your heart leapt with joy.
Conversation lulled into momentary silence but it was thrumming with the last of your laughter and the surprise that had not yet worn off. Staring into each other’s eyes you both felt this growing sense of belonging that you were not feeling around each other when you met.
“I feel so happy,” he confessed with a warm smile. The flat of his palm caressed his chest where his heart laid. "I don't know why exactly. I just—I really do."
"Me too," you said simply. And you meant it all the way down.
He had this tendency to say more with his eyes than his mouth could describe, something you observed he’s been doing all evening. You loved deciphering him this way.
"I kept thinking we'd get off the train and that would be it," he said, his gaze dropping briefly to your hands before returning to your face. "That you'd be a good memory I wouldn't have any way of returning to. I kept thinking I should prepare myself for that. It’s… comforting knowing that we can actually keep in touch.”
You tilted your head sideways, narrowing your eyes playfully. "So without Taehyun, we wouldn't have managed that?" you asked with a light, probing edge.
The surge of satisfaction that grasped you was palpable when you saw him undone by you. Colour rose along his cheeks — heat that crept upwards even as his charming smile held, because Beomgyu was choosing to ride the wave you clearly already had.
“I can be friendly,” he murmured with a croon as he leaned forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees and closing the distance between you by a fraction that registered in every nerve you had. His gaze that stayed on yours asked for nothing and yet held your attention completely.
You hummed, nodding for him to finish what he started. “Go on.”
"I would have found a reason to stay right here regardless." His fingers brushed once against the fabric near your knee as the train swayed. An involuntary shiver ran up you just from that miniscule of a contact. "But I'd rather earn it," he said. "Starting with being your friend."
You were looking at each other so intently that anything beyond the two of you went unnoticed. The rest of the compartment might as well have fallen away. You had eyes for each other and nothing else.
"I'd like that," you said, and let your voice drop a little so that he had to lean slightly closer to catch it. "I'd like to be your friend too."
"Good." The curve of his mouth was slow and warm. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Your heart raced with nerves and exhilaration. Just then your phone vibrated against your palm, abrupt enough to pull you back.
Tyun
wait why are you asking about beomgyu
are you actually on the same train as him rn. please say yes
Tyun
ok if you are- he's one of the best people i know. genuinely. you're in good hands.
also this is the funniest thing that's happened to me all week and i'm at my friend's wedding rehearsal dinner so that's saying something
You stared at the screen for a moment, the corner of your mouth pulling up despite yourself. Of all the moments for Taehyun to come through with a functional response, it had to be now. While you had gone silent, Beomgyu began to feel a tad bit of concern over his choice of words. Had he pushed you too far?
"Everything okay?" he asked.
You looked up from the screen and met his eyes, and this time you didn't look away first.
"Yeah," you said. "More than okay."
The pellucid certainty with which you had said it did more than reassure him. He had meant what he said about earning it, about taking things at the pace they were supposed to take, and that intention hadn't moved. But intentions and the pull he felt sitting across from you occupied two entirely separate parts of him, and the latter was becoming considerably less manageable by the minute.
"I should probably stop making this all about me," he said, gathering himself back into some semblance of composure. "That feels a bit unfair at this point."
“Unfair?” you echoed, a hint of disbelief slipping through.
The word sat oddly with you. You had not felt shortchanged for a single moment. If anything, you had been the one taking more than you gave, learning him piece by piece while keeping most of yourself tucked carefully away, and the imbalance had been entirely your doing. The fact that he had read the conversation as one-sided in your favor was almost endearing enough to be a problem.
"I've done most of the talking," he went on, reading nothing of where your thoughts had just gone. "You've been sitting here listening this whole time. That can't be a particularly good deal."
You almost smiled at that. He really did think this had been one-sided. He had no idea what his presence had been doing to you the entire time.
"I don't know." You shrugged, a soft breath escaping you. "I actually like hearing you talk."
His brows rose, caught off guard. There was nothing particularly remarkable about his voice, or so he had always thought. The urge to just cross over this friendly boundary still maintained slyly by the two of you was becoming more and more overwhelming for him.
You pressed your lips together for a second, and then shook your head. The words you had chosen felt insufficient for what you had actually meant.
“No—that’s not quite right,” you corrected, more honestly this time. "I love your voice. I could listen to it for a long time. Is that a strange thing to say?"
There were too many things Beomgyu could say, and none of them felt safe enough to let out without altering the course of where this was going.
"No." He breathed, and it came out faster than anything he had said before. He stopped right after it, lips parting as if to add more. “I just—”
You watched him try again. It only made your curiosity deepen.
“I’d like to hear about you too,” he confided a little softly. “If you’re willing.”
You bit down on your lip to keep your expression from giving too much away. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was not being clever about any of this. Your heart argued with your senses but pragmatism had long lost its hold on you. He was just too irresistible. It was as if he inspired a recklessness in you, a desire to go all-in. Lose yourself in him completely.
You reached into your paper bag and held out one of the lemon buns toward him.
"I don't mind," you said. “Being asked, I mean.”
There is a version of this that could be explained very simply.
Two people passing the hours with conversation, letting the journey carry them forward while they trade stories to make it feel shorter. Friends, if someone were curious enough to ask.
He listened with care, asking questions without overstepping that kept you speaking. You set the pace for how much you revealed, and he respected that boundary perfectly. Just like a good friend would do, he remembered the details you shared (which truthfully surprised you) as if it mattered beyond the moment itself. It would be easy to accept that at face value, to believe that this was all it was.
Friends, as you both agreed to be.
Perhaps that was why it felt the way it did.
Because ntihng had crossed any line, and nothing had been said that could not be taken back if needed. Every word could still belong to a version of this night that ended without consequence, where you part at your destination with a smile and carry nothing forward except a pleasant recollection. At some later point, you might meet again through the same shared acquaintance. You would greet each other with the comfort you had reserved for being familiar strangers turned to friends.
But then there were smaller moments that defied such easy explanations.
The glances that did not move unless you gave him a reason to. There were gestures such as reaching over in the middle of something you were laughing about and wiping the trace of lemon cream from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, followed by the absent motion of bringing that same thumb to his mouth without breaking eye contact.
That is where the simplicity begins to fray. If this were only friendship, it wouldn't feel like this.
"This is a little strange, isn't it?" you said.
“In what way?”
“We’ve been talking for—what, over an hour?” You smiled a little; there was a daze that washed over your face from settling into the moment. "And I don't feel like I'm talking to someone I just met."
That downward smile was going to be the death of you. “I stopped thinking of it that way a while ago.”
Just as you'd expected, he voiced the very thing you'd been longing to hear without any hint of insincerity. You had felt it coming in the way you feel the temperature drop before rain — how easily he kept meeting you where you stood.
"Honestly, I kind of assumed we'd eventually hit an awkward patch," he admitted. “Or that we’d run out of things to say.”
He had expected for the specific variety of silence that descends when two strangers have exhausted their common ground and are waiting for a graceful way to stop pretending otherwise. Strange, how quickly that concern had disappeared without him noticing when exactly it had stopped mattering.
“I’m almost disappointed about that.” You laughed, shaking your head. "I had a whole exit strategy prepared."
“Really?” he asked, a hint of disbelief slipping through. “You don’t strike me as someone who needs an escape plan.”
“That’s because you haven’t seen me in a truly terrible conversation.” You quirked one side of your lips. “Trust me, I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.”
“Were you close to using it?”
His voice carried a lightness that didn't entirely mask the fact that the answer actually mattered to him. The idea of you having considered leaving even hypothetically — it bothered him.
“No.” The single syllable rolled off your tongue slowly. “I didn’t need to.”
There was that damn downturned smile again. You were convinced that until this point he did that on purpose. But now you don't even know anymore.
“I’m glad I made it past that, then.”
It had slipped from notice that the blizzard outside had picked up and how far the train had traveled cutting through sheets of snow. The space you carved out with him held its own pocket of time that the world beyond the glass had stopped feeling entirely real.
“I’m going to step away for a minute,” you said, rising to gather yourself. You needed to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back.”
He gave you a small nod, letting his eyes linger on you for a moment — just a second.
“Okay,” he said softly. “I’ll be right here.”
Once you left the carriage, Beomgyu’s nerves finally lit up and ran through him all at once. He sank back into his seat, composure slipping now that there was no reason to hold onto it. It didn’t make sense how present you still felt.
Had he said too much? Not enough? He tried to retrace the conversation, searching for when he may have gone too far, but every answer blurred into the next. He hoped he hadn't bored you. God no — he hoped you weren’t just humoring him out of politeness, offering him your attention so he would not feel out of place.
Politeness could mimic interest so convincingly that it frightened him. He had spent a year learning that lesson and several months afterward trying to unknow it. He had to close his eyes just to escape those thoughts. But you were there against his eyelids still, as if his mind had been waiting for the moment it could drift back to you without resistance.
Beomgyu dragged both hands over his face and bent forward until his elbows met his knees. He let out a low groan that was muffled into his hands. He couldn't believe how far gone he already was, and so quickly.
This was a completely unprecedented situation for him. Barely even knew you for a few hours and he’d already undone all the resolution he’d worked months on rebuilding after his last relationship fell apart. He had told himself, after everything with her, that whatever came next would be approached with care. He would take his time and not give himself away so completely to someone he hadn't yet earned the right to trust with that.
You, a stranger on a train — even though that word had begun to lose its meaning — reached into his heart and stirred life where he had grown accustomed to stillness. How on earth did you manage that so easily?
Every time you had looked at him his breath had caught before he could do anything about it. Every time he looked at you, he wanted to leave you just as breathless. He wanted to take his air back from your lips.
Still hunched forward in that position, he dropped one hand and reached into his pocket for his phone. The signal had been unreliable all evening, yet he placed the call anyway and lifted the device to his ear, waiting through the faint interference.
Lucky for him, it did go through.
"Taehyun."
Taehyun's voice came through slightly distorted, carrying the ambient noise of wherever the rehearsal dinner had deposited him. "Hey—what's up? I heard you met my fri—"
“How come you never mentioned her?” Beomgyu asked gravelly, his palm still pressed against his face.
There was a definite pause from the other side. Then a sound that was unmistakably Taehyun trying not to laugh.
“What? You're not making any sense." Taehyun hummed, then clicked his tongue. "Actually, you are making sense. You're making a very specific kind of sense. So I'm guessing that means you two are getting along."
Beomgyu pressed his fingertips to his temple and said nothing for a moment. The answer was obvious to him and yet impossible to articulate without sounding ridiculous. How could he possibly condense the way you'd become his every waking thought into something as simple as getting along?
He could only place the blame on Taehyun.
If he had been introduced to you at any point before this — he liked to believe things might have unfolded differently for him. Perhaps then he would have avoided the long detour of heartbreak that had left him so guarded in the first place.
With a sigh, he slouched back again in his seat. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Taehyun made a sound of vague acknowledgment, oblivious to what Beomgyu was implying. "Well, yeah. She's good people. I figured you'd work that out on your own."
Taehyun didn’t have to describe how wonderful you were for Beomgyu to understand that you were someone worth taking a risk on. Beomgyu was enchanted, irrevocably shackled to you. Right now he couldn’t conceptualize beyond you, was already wondering how much longer until you returned, was already longing to have more time before he had even figured out what to do with the time he had already been given.
That was right, what he wanted was more time with you that was unburdened by the end of this journey. He longed for conversations with you that were not bound by the ticking of stations, moments that didn't feel so transient. He wanted to see you again in a setting that did not threaten to take you away at any second.
His grip on the phone tightened slightly. “I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah, sur—”
He ended the call and set the phone face-down on his thigh.
You would be back any minute. He needed to put himself back together before you came through that door. He straightened up. Ran a hand through his hair. Exhaled slowly through his nose.
He was absolutely, completely fine.
The narrow corridor felt even more confined as you walked out, permeated by a warmth that clung a little too closely to your skin. It was difficult to tell whether it came from the heating circulating through the carriage or from within you. Honestly, after a moment, you stopped trying to work that out. The distinction began to feel irrelevant to hold your attention for long.
You stood at the small sink and looked at your own reflection in the mirror above it, and the face that looked back at you was not particularly useful at concealing things. You liked whatever was happening between you and him. You couldn't recall the last time you'd felt that rush in your chest. You were not the type to be swept up without noticing but you had no interest in pulling yourself back either. He made you want to remain exactly where you were and see what came next.
Still, the complicating factor was how this choice was fundamentally undermining all your personal aspirations. You were a believer in time. You always made sure to thoroughly get to know the person before letting anything more substantial take root. That was a rule you lived by. You never had before, nor had you ever found a reason to doubt it.
Within the span of a single evening, Choi Beomgyu was dismantling that whole belief system.
You reached for the door, pausing only for a second before pulling it open. Once this journey ends and you both decide to keep things friendly, you couldn't foresee the path your friendship might take.
You had your eyes downcast but you looked up when you stepped back into the carriage. Heart leapt so hard that it hurt when you saw him. He was exactly where you had left him, and he was already looking toward you. The small lift of his hand in greeting carried more impact than it should have given how little time had passed.
There was no way of deciding the outcome here, standing in the train — but you could decide what to do with the present.
With a returned smile, you steadied a hand on the overhead bin when you felt the carriage sway. Had the wind outside gotten worse so suddenly? The motion underfoot no longer matched the memory of it from a few minutes ago.
An unanticipated lurch snapped through your footing and destabilized you. Your grip slipped and you caught yourself against the nearest seat with a jolt that travelled up your arm. Beomgyu across from you was already half out of his seat, both hands reaching towards you with intentions to catch you before you hit the ground. Pure panic written so openly across his face that it stopped you for a second. You had not seen that expression on him before. You shook your head before pushing yourself upright again. Waving him down, you sent a quick signal that all was well.
You managed only two more steps.
In a sudden motion, the train slowed and threw everyone forward. The deceleration ripped the ground beneath you and you were falling backwards before your mind processed what even was happening. The impact with the floor was cushioned underneath your head only because you felt hands wrapped around you turning the fall into something controlled yet no less forceful as both of you went down together.
Metal screamed along the rails, a prolonged and violent scrape that resonated through the carriage and pounded into your skull. It went on and on while the brakes worked through their full range before the train finally seized to a jarring halt. The force of it traveled upward through the floor, through your spine, through every bone in your body at once. Overhead compartments sprung open under the strain, and luggages came down in heavy bursts striking seats, the aisle, anything in its path.
“Fuck—watch out—!!”
You couldn’t even tell whose voice belonged to who.
Even if the fall had injured you, your panic-driven mind latched onto two things — the bags coming down and the fact that he was above you. Your hands moved before thought had any place in it. With your palms cupping the back of his head and fingers pushed through his hair, you pulled him down against you, shielding his head as best as you could. There was no room left to consider anything beyond that. Where anything might land, what might strike you instead — none of it mattered.
The lights went out. Somewhere in the darkness people fell or shouted in confusion. The cacophony of overlapping cries completely obliterated any sense of direction. The deafening ringing in your ears made you lightheaded. Your breathing came in uneven pulls, your hands still locked where they had been placed, holding him there, refusing to let go. A heavy thud landed somewhere close. Another followed.
Then a bag came down and struck Beomgyu’s back with such force that you felt it through him, hurtling down into your arms as he let out a rough, bitten-off breath against you. You blinked against the darkness, forcing your vision to adjust and your mind to catch up. A strained groan from above you left Beomgyu and your heart jumped to your throat.
"Beomgyu—" His name came out fast and ragged, barely put together.
His body had taken the hit for both of you, completely encapsulating you. He shifted slightly, warm breath ghosting unevenly against your cheek.
“I’m here,” he managed. The words were rough, so close that you felt them more than heard them. “I'm here.”
There was a flicker and then the lights came out one by one until the carriage revealed itself again in fragments. Complete disarray. Fallen bags and open compartments. People pulling themselves upright and voices rising in questions that had no answers yet.
Beomgyu pushed himself up slowly, one hand bracing beside your shoulder, the other still securely cradling the back of your head. His hair had fallen forward across his forehead and his face was in partial shadow, but it didn't obscure the strain in his expression or the tight line of his mouth as he exhaled through it.
“I’m okay,” he repeated, sounding duller from the aftermath of the impact. “I’m okay—are you—”
Instead of his hair, your hands cupped his face, a firm hold that stopped him from speaking further. “Don’t say that if you’re not sure,” you cut in, too fast to soften it. “Where does it hurt? Your shoulder? Your head—”
“Hey, hey, look at me,” he insisted softly, his hand coming up to close around your wrist for a second. That was all it took to bring you back to earth a bit. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”
He helped you sit up, but your hands were trembling. You pressed them against his shoulders, then along his arms, checking what you already feared without needing words for it. “But you—fuck,” you said under your breath, “that bag came straight down on you, I felt it, you have to—you’re bleeding? Wait—no—are you—”
"See? Nothing's bleeding. I'm okay." He spoke again, this time lower so his words fell directly into your ear while his hands intercepted both of yours before you could spiral further. He turned his head one way and then the other, letting you see until you were convinced.
“Why didn’t you move?” you were baffled.
“It didn’t matter.” He said it simply, as if the answer had been obvious from the start. His hand came up to your cheek, thumb brushed lightly along your skin as his eyes moved over your face with the same fervour you had just turned on him. "Now let me—your head, did it hit anything when you went down?"
“I don’t think so,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure. Everything had happened too fast for you to keep track of where your body had gone, what had hit what. There were aches assembling themselves in various places that you were not currently interested in acknowledging. “I think I’m alright. I—”
You trailed off as your eyes began to wander despite what you were saying. A wave of dread washed over you as you grasped the terrifying reality of the situation — how truly alarming this was, and the chilling possibility of it being far more dire. Fuck, the train mustve been stranded.
“Do you think something happened to the tracks?” you mumbled.
“Has to be.” He glanced toward the aisle, quick, taking in what he could before looking back at you. “Something ahead must have given way.”
It wasn’t a real answer that explained anything, but you found yourself holding onto it anyway. Anything was better than letting your thoughts run too far ahead of you.
Beomgyu looked down at you. He took you in, carefully looking over you for any sign of injury and he didn’t like what he saw. The sight of how shaken you were stirred a fierce need in him to keep anything from touching you again.
“I’ve got you,” he said, and this time it stayed between the two of you.
Pushing himself up carefully on unsteady legs he pulled you with him, grabbing your hand before you could steady yourself on anything else. He didn’t let go once you were upright, keeping you close against his side.
The overhead speaker crackled to life with a burst of static that cut through the noise. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain where you are. A conductor will come through each carriage shortly to check for injuries and assess the situation.”
Nobody particularly listened. People were already reaching for what had fallen and trying to check on each other. Beomgyu didn’t wait either. He guided you back to your seat through the narrow space, keeping you within reach the entire time. Once you were seated you watched him position himself between you and the pandemonium unfolding behind him.
You had somewhat calmed down by then. Your pounding heart settled into a more manageable pace, though every now and then you flinched when something remotely loud happened around you. From where you sat, you looked up at Beomgyu’s standing figure. You were certain he was pretending far too well. You literally felt the bag hit him. You curled your fingers around his sleeve and gave a weak tug to garner his attention.
“Beomgyu?” you called out softly. “Why don’t you sit down?”
He glanced at your hand on his arm, then at your face. A soft smile appeared. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his palm settling gently at the back of your head.
“I promise I'm okay.”
You frowned at his response. You did not accept his words easily no matter how much you wanted to believe them. Tiny beads of sweat remained at his brow, partially hidden by hair that no longer sat in place from the earlier commotion. He was holding his right side in a controlled way without appearing to hold it.
“Come here.” You tried again, moving yourself over to the next seat and patting the space you had just vacated.
Beomgyu let out a breath that might have been a laugh under different circumstances, but he didn’t argue this time. Just when he was about to sit, the carriage door at the far end swung open and a conductor came through. He looked rattled as the rest.
“What’s going on?” Beomgyu didn’t wait to ask once he reached your row.
The conductor glanced between the two of you before answering. “We had to stop the train,” he explained, glancing briefly down the aisle where other passengers had begun to gather. “There's a section of track ahead where the ground has dipped significantly under the snowfall. We couldn’t risk pushing through.”
Hearing this, a worried — “What?” — left you, causing the conductor to subtly panic.
“There's no immediate danger,” he added, pivoting to you quickly. “The train is stable where it is. We're positioned near a town, and we've already been in contact with the main control unit. Arrangements are being made.”
“Arrangements?” Beomgyu pressed. He wasn’t satisfied with vague answers at a time like this. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Emergency vehicles should be here by morning.” He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then continued, “It will take a few hours.”
“How long are we talking about?” Someone from the small crowd asked.
“I can’t give you an exact time,” he admitted with a faltered look. “The weather’s working against us. It could take the entire night. I wouldn’t want to promise otherwise.”
A murmur moved through the people within earshot. You pressed toward the window.
The tracks outside had vanished entirely beneath the snow, swallowed into a continuous white expanse that stretched beyond the rails and erased the boundary between the ground and everything else. Further out, across the distance, a scatter of low buildings broke the line of white — dim lights burning in their windows, the shapes of signs and structures suggested inns, maybe homes, maybe a combination of both.
The town sat there within reach and still felt removed.
Beomgyu in the meantime finished talking to the conductor. Seeing you looking out the window unmoving, he took the seat beside you without a word. He could tell there was something weighing on your mind, evident in those pretty depths of your eyes.
“Do you have enough warm clothes on you for the night?” he asked, his hand coming to rest against your arm. “They're reducing power to conserve energy. The heating won't hold through the night.”
Ignoring his question, you instead asked something else. “Is this really safe?”
You didn’t look away from the window even after asking it. Matter of fact, he had been circling the same thought himself. The train was stable, technically, but it certainly wasn’t going to be a wise decision to stay the night in a train that was already losing warmth by the minute. His focus flicked to the window, to the blinking lights of the town against the white sheet. Each of them was an opportunity beckoning him to act.
There was something he could do but that wasn’t a decision he was willing to make alone.
“Would you feel safer spending the night in one of those inns?” the gentleness of his voice coaxed you to meet his eyes.
“But…” you trailed off, glancing out again before turning back to him. Your voice lowered slightly. “How do we know there's even a room available? Everyone’s stuck here. We won't be the first ones to think of it.”
He nodded with a hum, considering it properly. There was a possibility that what you said might be true. There were no guarantees waiting out there. If he took you out there and came back with nothing, it would turn into a pointless trip through the cold. Worse, it would mean dragging you through it for no reason at all and you might end up sick. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for that.
“I can go and check first,” he said after a moment. “Just to know what we’re dealing with.”
You blinked at him. You weren’t dumb to understand what he meant, not at all — but it was still absurd hearing him say it so plainly.
“What do you mean, you?” you asked, eyes narrowing.
“I'll ask around, see what the situation is,” he explained. “You can stay here until I—”
He started to get up, and your hand tightened instantly around his sleeve.
“Beomgyu, you’re not going alone.”
He was taken aback by the severity of the way you spoke — leaving no room for him to protest. Your voice never raised but it still pinned him to place.
“I’ll be fine,” he tried, the tail end of it with a chuckle. His hand coming up as if to ease your grip. “It’s just a quick check. I can’t have you out there in this—you’ll be drenched before we even reach the town.”
“And you won’t?” you returned, your brows pulling together.
He exhaled through his nose, the argument falling apart before it could fully form. “It’s better than both of us going out there for nothing.”
You shook your head. You could see what he was trying to do, see the way he was placing you first again, but it only made you stand your ground firmer.
"You're already hurt. I felt that bag come down on you. I watched you hold your side for the last twenty minutes thinking I wouldn't notice," you said, more adamantly this time. “And you want to walk out into a blizzard alone? That's your plan?” As if that made any sense.
He opened his mouth.
"No," you said, before he could use it. You stood, keeping your grip on his sleeve, and moved to face him properly. "Whatever happens from here—we figure it out together. That's not a negotiable point. You don't get to make that call by yourself and leave me sitting here wondering."
You felt a little ashamed of the tremor in your voice; with the way your words had spilled out with such naked fervor — but you had meant every last one of them, and you knew it even as the heat climbed into your cheeks. Beomgyu was no longer a stranger to you. You couldn't have explained it to anyone with any satisfying logic or couldn't have justified the fierceness of it. But the care was there. You cared the way you'd care for someone who had been woven into your life for years, not someone you'd only met hours ago on a train that smelled of old upholstery.
You were not going to stand by and watch him walk out alone into a blizzard with a hurt shoulder because he had decided your comfort was worth more than his own.
“I’m coming with you,” you pleaded softly, your gaze dropping as you lost the nerve to hold his eyes any longer. Your grip loosened, sliding down his sleeve until your fingers found his wrist and curled around it. His pulse was there, warm beneath your fingertips. “So don’t go alone… please.”
Beomgyu had gone completely still. His eyes were wide, you'd seen that much in your periphery before you'd looked away. His mouth had opened just slightly, the beginning of a word that never arrived.
He wasn't sure what he would have said anyway. He wasn't sure he was capable of forming language at all right now, because something in his chest had just detonated so quietly and so completely that he almost expected to look down and find himself changed.
Cared for — this was… this was something he never imagined he would feel anytime soon. He hadn’t expected this from you. From anyone, maybe, but especially not you. Why would he? He had only known you today. One single day, and yet you had felt more real to him than most things he could name in his life.
He wanted to pull you into him. He spent a very willful second not acting on it, gaze cutting sideways to avoid the sight of your downturned face — because if he kept looking at you, he wasn't sure what he'd do and he was even less sure he'd regret it.
He said your name under his breath. The single syllable found you anyway.
You looked up.
He wished you hadn't, and he was also very glad you had. Beomgyu felt the sensation of his heart being pulled clean out of his chest. If this is what dying feels like, he thought, I wouldn't mind it happening again. He wouldn't mind it happening every day for the rest of however long he had.
He slipped his hand free from your loose hold and turned his palm, lacing his fingers through yours. A bloom of heat spread from that one point of connection until it reached somewhere behind your sternum and sat there.
“You’re right, I'm sorry.” He smiled softly, squeezing your hand. "Let's go together."
You let out a shaky sigh of relief. Your smile came back at him unsteady at the corners but genuine all the way through.
Beomgyu backtracked to find the conductor while you waited near the door of the compartment, your joined hands finally separating only because they had to. He found the man near the vestibule.
"We'd like to stay the night in town, if that's permitted," Beomgyu said in a stable tone he'd had to rebuild from scratch in the last five minutes. "Is there any flexibility on that?"
The conductor considered him for a moment, then nodded. "You won't be the first to ask, and it's no trouble on our end—but for the safety of all passengers, anyone arranging their stay nearby will need to leave their contact information and boarding details with me before they go. It’s for record-keeping and to ensure everyone is accounted for when we resume.”
"Of course." Beomgyu turned to glance back at you, and you were already moving forward, having caught enough of the exchange to understand.
You gave your name, your boarding details, the number they could reach you at. Beomgyu followed after you and gave his own. Once the conductor had everything noted down, he gave you both a brief nod of acknowledgment and moved on. Beomgyu adjusted his bag onto his left shoulder — the uninjured one. You made a mental note to find a moment to properly check on it later.
To your surprise, he reached for your luggage. Foolish man, did he think you were going to let him take on the burden? You stopped him, fixing him with a look that you hoped communicated the full extent of what you thought of that idea.
Beomgyu withdrew his hand. He was very clearly suppressing a smile about it. You chose not to acknowledge this.
One of the crew members patrolling outside the vestibule came around to assist with the snow covered steps. You passed your bag down first, then stood at the top of the steps as Beomgyu reached the bottom and turned back toward you with both arms open. You took hold of him and stepped down, the snow compressing softly beneath your weight. The two of you were standing so close that you could see a snowflake catch in his lashes before the wind took it.
He found your hand and pulled you forward into the dark.
The town was supposedly a ten-minute walk. But the wind had teeth. It came at you sideways, driving the snow in sharp little gusts into every gap between your scarf and your collar. Not to mention, it kept finding your eyes regardless of which direction you angled your face. You dropped your head and followed the forward pull of his hand, trusting his sense of direction entirely when your own vision had reduced to a narrow strip of ground directly ahead of your feet.
He turned to look at you with his hair whipping across his forehead. "You okay back there?" he asked loudly over the wind.
"I'm okay," you called back. "Keep walking."
He turned forward again, and his grip on your hand tightened.
The local inn was the first lit building you reached, its windows glowing a deep amber against all that darkness. The woman on the other side who had clearly been watching the path and had seen you coming opened the door before you reached it. You were ushered into the warmth of the entrance, and the sudden change in temperature hit you so completely that you went still for a moment just to absorb it. Towels were pressed into your hands almost immediately, and someone disappeared to retrieve a space heater, guiding you both toward the lounge.
You were the one who approached the front desk once you'd gotten your bearings back, pulling your scarf down from your face and explaining the situation to the receptionist. She listened with her eyes on her screen, typing as you spoke, and her expression did a small and very telling thing when she reached whatever entry she had been looking for.
"I'm very sorry," she said, and she did sound it. "With the weather and the number of people who've come in tonight, we only have one room left."
"I'll take it." Beomgyu, who had been standing by your side, said to the receptionist as he produced his card from his wallet. "For her."
You turned to look at him slowly.
He was staring at the receptionist.
"Only for me?" you asked.
That made him look at you. "You'll have somewhere to sleep and you won't have to worry abo—"
"Where will you stay?"
Beomgyu did not find the courage to tell you that he was planning to go back to the train. In that pause you turned back to the receptionist before he could reconstruct whatever answer he'd been assembling.
"We'll both take it," you told her. "Both names on the booking, please."
She processed this without a visible reaction and set the key on the counter. You picked it up before Beomgyu could.
"Didn't I say," you began, "that from here on out, we'd stick together?"
He was losing his mind. This was a verifiable fact, and he was now conducting a very private reckoning with himself somewhere three steps behind you as you ascended to whatever floor the room was on. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd share a room with you. One bed, presumably, since there was one room and he was not going to suggest you sleep on a chair. He would gladly take the floor himself if it came to that.
But you — you looked completely unaffected. He could not tell whether you genuinely weren't affected or whether you were simply so much better at concealing it than he was. Either possibility was going to keep him awake tonight, and the irony of that was not lost on him at all.
Beomgyu had known, in the abstract, that you were going to be the end of him. He just hadn't expected it to happen this fast.
However, that ‘unaffected’ demeanor of yours slipped soon enough.
At the door, he watched you work the key into the lock. It caught on something inside the mechanism, and you had to pull it back halfway and try again. You were holding yourself together. It was a valiant performance. He was almost convinced.
Almost being the operative word, because your hands were still shaking.
"Sorry, I—these keys are—" The sentence dissolved. You were not sure what you had intended to finish it with.
It wasn't only the cold making your hands uncooperative. You were acutely aware of the warmth radiating off him from where he stood behind you. So far you were putting a brave front that you were extremely okay with sharing a room with him. But in the privacy of your own skull the facade you had been constructing since the front desk began developing very audible fractures.
You finally got the lock. The door swung inward.
You stared at the predicament in front of you, and you could almost hear the splinters of your self-control breaking echoing in your ears.
It was not a bad room. There was a single window set into the far wall with the curtains already drawn against the snow, a desk against one wall, a wardrobe; the usual geometry of a hotel suite and perfectly adequate in every respect except for the one that mattered.
The queen-sized bed sitting squarely in the middle of the room.
You were distantly conscious, without turning around, of Beomgyu coming to stand just inside the doorway. The jitters that had been lurking at the base of your stomach all evening were now making their presence extremely known.
Goosebumps moved along your arms when he spoke.
“I’ll go ask for an extra mattress.”
He sounded a little weary. You turned to see him over your shoulder and found him already looking at you. One hand resting on the door frame — hovering at the threshold in a way that told you he had not yet decided whether he was fully in this room or still in the process of giving you an out.
He meant it. He would go back down those stairs right now, charm the exhausted receptionist into producing a mattress from wherever spare mattresses went on a night like this, and drag it back up here himself on a hurt shoulder without a single word of complaint. All so that the arrangement you had walked into with such apparent calm would feel less like what it was.
You held his gaze for a beat and felt the fractures in your composure spread another inch.
You turned back to the bed and told him to go ahead. Maybe the time alone would help you sort through your thoughts before he came back. What you didn’t know was that by letting him leave for a while, you had given him the same chance to collect himself.
Beomgyu peeled himself from the door frame and left, pulling the door shut behind him with a soft click. You sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the curtains for a while.
As soon as he was out, Beomgyu pressed his back against the wall beside the door and dragged both hands up over his face, muffling a whine. He stood there for a moment in that position and then, he tipped his head back and let it knock against the wall once. The impact sent a dull throb radiating from his shoulder blade, where the bruise from the bag had been quietly intensifying for the last hour. He winced a little as he slowly rolled his shoulder back.
Everything was going to be just fine if he found an extra mattress, right? He was a rational person and this was a rational solution and there was absolutely no reason for his brain to go anywhere near the alternative, which was—
He was not going to finish that thought.
He was, unfortunately, already finishing that thought.
It wouldn't be the worst thing, said some deeply unhelpful corner of his mind, sharing a bed. You've had a long day. You've both had a long day. It would be fine—
Beomgyu slapped himself on the cheek. A sting that bloomed across this skin that he thoroughly deserved, and which he hoped would serve as an adequate eviction notice for whatever was currently colonizing his better judgment.
There was a man at the end of the corridor.
A staff member, identifiable by his vest, holding a stack of folded towels and staring at Beomgyu with a wide neutral expression. He was definitely going to be thinking about it for the rest of his shift and possibly several shifts thereafter. The two of them made prolonged awkward eye contact. Beomgyu slowly lowered his hand.
"Evening," Beomgyu said.
The man blinked. "Evening, sir."
Whatever remained of his dignity was simply going to have to be enough to work with. He cleared his throat and walked toward the man, adorning a smile pretending as if nothing happened.
"I suppose you'd know if there are any spare mattresses available for the night?" he asked, with what he felt was perfect charm. "Or even a cot—anything along those lines would do."
The staff member's expression morphed into something genuinely apologetic as he shifted the towels in his arms. "I'm sorry, sir, we've had a full house tonight with the weather—we've no spare beds or pillows left at all, I'm afraid." He paused, as if taking stock of Beomgyu's face and finding something there that warranted the addendum. "We do have extra blankets, though, if that would help. Plenty of those."
Beomgyu looked at him for a moment.
"Blankets," he repeated.
"As many as you'd like, sir."
So the mattress plan was dead and his self-respect had taken significant casualties. He more or less expected this outcome so he accepted this information with a nod that he hoped projected serenity, and thanked the man.
You had managed to do very little in the time he was gone except sit on the edge of the mattress and stare at the middle distance. So when the door opened you startled badly enough that your hand flew to your sternum.
Beomgyu, to his credit, took one look at you and chose not to say a single word about it. He stepped inside and set the folded stack of blankets he was carrying onto the armchair in the corner.
“They didn't have any mattresses to spare.” He paused. “They were, however, extremely enthusiastic about giving me blankets. Enough blankets to—I don't know—build a fort, maybe.”
Despite everything, the laugh that came out of you was genuine. Beomgyu's mouth curved into it too, and for a moment the two of you were just sitting with the absurdity of the whole evening.
“A fort,” you repeated.
“Structurally sound, I think, if we're creative about it.”
You shook your head, still smiling, and the fizzle of nerves in your stomach went down several degrees.
“Go freshen up first,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom. “The water should be warm by now.”
“I'm alright,” you said, and it was the truth — or at least, you needed it to be true for a little while longer. “I need to sit down for a bit more. You go ahead.”
He looked at you for a moment, considering, and then decided not to argue. He pulled a change of clothes from his bag and disappeared through the bathroom door without another word.
The room was very quiet without him in it.
You sat in silence for another moment before reaching for your bag and pulling out what you needed for the night. You laid everything out on the bed beside you and tried not to think too hard about anything. But you couldn't stop thinking about what had happened so far. Every time you tried to gather yourself, another memory surfaced before the previous one had even faded properly.
You were still going through your bag when the bathroom door opened.
Beomgyu emerged with a towel slung around the back of his neck, working the ends of it through his damp hair. The coat and heavy winter layers were gone. He was wearing his jeans still and a white t-shirt that had clearly been retrieved from the depths of his bag, and the effect of the lamplight on that particular combination was — you needed to look at something else. You found something extremely interesting to look at in your open bag and devoted your full attention to it.
"Bathroom's all yours," he said, dropping into the armchair and draping the towel over one knee. He picked up his phone and looked at it, and did not appear to notice anything. You were grateful for this, whether it was genuine or not.
You gathered your things and left without further incident. When you came back out, hair damp and changed into something warmer, Beomgyu had moved from the armchair to the floor. He was arranging the extra blankets with his back against the side of the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him. He'd turned the overhead light off at some point, leaving only the bedside lamp, which gave the room a softer ambience.
The sliver of skin peeking out under the neckline of his shirt stopped you. You’d been meaning to say something about the bruise but you weren't sure how to start the conversation. You were still trying to locate that opening when your phone buzzed on the bed where you'd left it. You picked it up and felt your chest swell up with guilt as you read the name on the screen.
You answered, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pulling your knees up. "Hi, mum."
Beomgyu did not look up, but was already preparing to take himself somewhere else in the small room to give you space to talk. He settled quietly against the far wall instead.
Her voice came through at full volume. You held the phone a fraction from your ear and let her go, because she had earned it. She wanted to know where exactly you were, how you had ended up there, whether the inn was properly heated, whether you had eaten, whether the staff had been helpful, and whether she needed to call someone — this last question delivered with the implication that she already had a list prepared and was ready to begin working through it the moment you gave her any opening whatsoever. You answered each one in turn, assuring her that you were warm and safe and completely, genuinely fine, that the conductor had everyone's details, that the train would resume in the morning, that she did not need to call anyone at all.
"And you're not alone?" she asked, and her voice had gone from worried to specifically worried, which were two different registers that you had spent a lifetime learning to distinguish.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Beomgyu glance up.
"No," you said, and then, after a beat — "I'm with a friend."
You held his gaze for a moment, and the smile that came onto your face was small and a little helpless. Beomgyu’s breath caught but he returned it in kind — a slow, soft thing moving into his eyes before it reached his mouth.
Your mother was still talking. You made yourself listen. Soon the call ended and you lowered the phone into your lap.
The silence was beginning to close in on you. You had not moved since the call ended. Beomgyu had resettled himself against the side of the bed. You could hear the softness of his breathing and the occasional tapping of his phone screen.
Your eyes found his shoulder again. You’d been doing that all evening — returning to that spot the way a tongue finds a sore tooth. Since the moment he had put himself between you and the falling bags without a second's pause, and then sat up and asked if you were alright.
The guilt that had arrived with your mother's call had not fully left. It had just rerouted itself, going into a different chamber of your chest, and was now sitting there with everything else you hadn't said tonight.
You opened your mouth. Thought better of it. Looked at the phone in your lap, then back at him.
"Beomgyu."
He looked up.
You had not prepared a beginning for this, which became apparent almost immediately once you started. "I have something in my bag—for bruising, it's a spray, I've been carrying it around forever and I—can I see your shoulder?"
The question came out, and then before he could answer whatever polite deflection he was about to offer, the rest of it came out too, because the dam was broken and there was nothing left to hold it.
"I'm sorry." You closed your eyes for a moment, shaking your head. "I'm sorry, I keep thinking about how uncomfortable I've probably made you with all of this—I shouldn't have forced the room situation, I just didn't want you out there somewhere on a cot in a corridor with a hurt shoulder and I—" The exhale that left you came out uneven. "And I know, I know that's ironic, because now you're on the floor anyway and the whole arrangement is—I can see that it's not what you would have chosen. "
You pressed your lips together. Tried to find the thread back to something coherent.
"You've been helping me since the moment we met," you said, and your voice had gone softer, stripped of the rambling and left with only the part that was true. "Every single moment since we met, actually, and I haven't—I wanted to do something for you too. I keep thinking about your brother's ceremony."
Had he called his family after getting into this predicament? He was so excited about it, too. Your heart hurt thinking about it again.
"I just keep thinking about it and I can't stop, and I need you to know that this isn't pity, Beomgyu, I swear to you it isn't, I just—"
You didn't have the word for what it actually was. You left the sentence where it ended.
Beomgyu had not looked away from you once. He had let you go — all of it, every fragmenting, half-finished piece of it — without interrupting. In his eyes was something that lived in the same neighborhood as the way he had looked at you on the train when you'd told him not to go alone.
He reached over and took your hand.
"I'm grateful to you.” His voice was low and carried nothing except the truth of the statement. "For not giving up on me."
Your throat tightened. You looked at his hand over yours and then back at his face. The room felt warmer than it had a minute ago, and yuo were aware that you were not going to be able to say anything particularly articulate for at least another few seconds.
When you trusted your voice again, you reached for your bag with your free hand.
"Can I see your shoulder?"
This time, he nodded. He got up from the floor and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. With the spray can in hand you told him, with as much composure as you could locate, that he was going to need to take his shirt off.
Beomgyu sat motionless for a beat, then reached behind his neck and pulled the shirt over his head in one clean motion. You looked away out of instinct and heard the fabric settle. You gave yourself three seconds, which was not enough but was all you were going to get, and turned back around.
The thing was, you had not been prepared for that.
You had spent the entirety of today beside him and had built a reasonable understanding of him — tall and broad-shouldered. What you had not accounted for was what the coat and the layers had been quietly keeping to themselves this entire time. You found your breath stolen by his lean, subtle musculature, a lithesome elegance to the long lines of his body.
He was watching your face with an expression you couldn't parse. You gave him nothing back, or at least you tried to, and directed your eyes pointedly to his shoulder.
"Turn around," you said.
He listened, settling with his back to you. You uncapped the spray and focused on what you were doing. The bruise was starting to pronounce itself by the colour of it — a wide, muted violet bloom. You winced softly at the sight of it.
You pressed the nozzle and the cold spray hissed out against his skin. You heard him pull a short breath in through his teeth. The sound shouldn't have sent a shiver through you, but it did.
"Sorry," you said immediately.
"Don't be.” He exhaled, the tail end of it caught in a groan. "Keep going."
You did, working carefully across the area, your fingers hovered near his skin without touching him. The lamp threw long shadows across his back enunciating all the dips and muscles, and you were close enough that you could have rested your chin on his undamaged shoulder if you had lost your mind entirely.
When you were done you capped the spray, and he turned back around to face you.
He didn't move back. Neither did you, which meant the gap between you was considerably less than sensible. You looked at his collarbone. His jaw. Anywhere that wasn't his eyes, because his eyes were the part of him you trusted least to look at right now without consequence.
Beomgyu had spent all this time at the outer edge of what he could manage. Every time the distance had narrowed he had found a reason to widen it again, only for it to narrow once more since the moment you had taken his wrist in your hands and told him not to go alone which had cracked him right down the middle. He had talked himself back from the edge more times tonight than he could count. But you were standing in front of him now with bare inches between you, and he had just exhausted the last several minutes trying not to lose his goddamn mind.
“You keep doing that,” he murmured.
The sudden drop in register of his voice pulled you back to him again. He was ruined by you.
You frowned faintly, trying desperately to hold onto normalcy. “Doing what?”
His gaze moved fractionally away, then returned and held. "Make it difficult to remember why I should keep my distance."
The lamp caught the side of his face and you noticed, not for the first time, how much he gave away in his eyes even when the rest of him stayed composed.
It was a shame how your poor heart again picked up her pace. Your throat had gone dry.
"That's a rather serious thing to say to someone you just met." The evenness of your own voice was a small miracle.
The corner of his mouth moved just barely, not committed to a smile but got most of the way there. His gaze stayed on yours without wavering. "It is," he agreed.
Your knuckles had gone white around the spray can. The push and pull of the entire evening was still moving between you, and you knew exactly where you could meet him right now — knew he was right there waiting. But there was a part of you, stubborn and a little wicked, that wasn't done yet.
"And what made you forget?"
He answered you with his eyes dropping lower on your mouth which made your stomach turn over completely. A ghost of a smile graced your lips when he looked back up at you.
"That you're not nearly as unaffected as you act."
"Careful," you muttered. "You're starting to sound like you know me."
"I don't." There was something in the way he said it — more an observation he found genuinely interesting. "But I think you like it when people almost do."
Your next breath came out thin, and something in you that had been braced all this time slowly stopped bracing. You looked at him and past the hours of both of you circling — and you let him see it too. All of it. The fact that his name had been sitting differently in your mouth for a while now. You were standing here at the end of the world's longest day and you were not unaffected, you had never been unaffected, and you were so tired of pretending otherwise.
You reached out and cupped his jaw. You felt the imperceptible hitch of his breath — and he went very still beneath your palm.
Whispering, you asked. "Is that what you've been thinking about all evening?"
"Among other things," he breathed out.
He looked genuinely wrecked. Eyes wide, jaw slack by a fraction, all the composure he'd been maintaining for the better part of the evening dissolving in real time right there in your hand. The sight of it — of him, undone and unguarded and entirely yours to read pulled a soft laugh out of you.
"I was wondering when you'd stop pretending."
The column of his throat moved when he swallowed. "Were you pretending too?" His voice had gone very, very low.
You tilted your head at him just slightly, and let him see the answer in your face before you said it.
"What do you think?"
Your hand trailed from his jaw so slowly he felt each centimeter of the loss before you gave it back — fingers finding his hair instead, sliding through and curling, and the sensation of it traveled straight down his spine. You gave a soft tug. He had been braced for so many things tonight — but not this. His lashes fluttered, and a shiver wrung out at the edges of the breath that left him. He couldn’t help himself but lean further into your touch, savoring the feel of your palm.
He stayed there for a moment, just a moment, with the warmth of your hand against the side of his face and the soft press of your fingertips still curled in his hair, and it felt indecent how much he needed it. How long he had needed it. Everything inside him begged to reach for you.
When he opened his eyes, whatever had been left of his composure was gone. His jaw had set and his eyes had gone several degrees darker than you had seen them all day.
His hand came up and curved around the back of your neck, and he pulled you down.
It was not a soft kiss, feverish and wanting, his mouth a hungry thing against your own. It felt like a kiss he had thought about, a kiss that he could not help but hurry toward now that there was nothing left standing between him and it.
God, he thought, distantly, finally.
Just as hungry, you fell into it completely — the kiss so hard and so burning that slowing down felt almost physically impossible. The sheer intensity of it clawed out a tattered little sound from the back of your throat. The spray can found its way onto the mattress somewhere beside you as you had to catch yourself against the bare warmth of his shoulder. The uninjured one, some still-functioning part of your brain noted before that corner went quiet too.
He gently bit your bottom lip making you groan softly, his grip at the back of your neck tightening for half a second before easing again when he realized he was holding you too hard. The kiss felt so good and so right, you realized, in the blurred and breathless space between one moment and the next.
He was the one who found the way back to guide you to a gentler motion. His lips closed against yours, pressed once and held.
Your breathing had become the same air. Neither of you had managed to pull away properly, your mouths still brushing every time either of you exhaled. Your eyes wouldn't open fully, thoughts drifting somewhere far behind the haze settling over you while strands of your hair spilled forward around both of your faces.
Beomgyu’s gaze could no longer hold onto one place for very long. They moved over you slowly, greedily, taking in every detail that revealed itself now that you were this close to him; the dazed glaze over your eyes and the part in your lips still damp and red from his mouth. His hand slipped from the back of your neck to your face, fingers brushing through the strands that had fallen across your cheek before carefully tucking them behind your ear.
One more suspended second was all he took before he kissed you again.
This time, your legs went genuinely weak beneath you, a wave of dizziness rolling through your chest and down to your knees. You pitched forward with a soft sound escaping into his mouth as you had to bring your knee up onto the mattress between his parted thighs for balance.
Even through the haze clouding your thoughts, you heard the way Beomgyu moaned at the contact.
You were intoxicated by the reaction you had pulled from him so easily. Curious now, bolder, you pressed your knee up experimentally against him once more. You felt the full-body jerk of him beneath you with a hitched breath, his hand shot to your thigh and gripped it which sent heat rushing through your stomach.
There it is, you thought, and smiled against his mouth.
Groaning into the kiss, a slow roll of his hips came, involuntary at first and then less so, chasing the pressure with a hunger that made his head spin. He was so fucked. The heady taste of your mouth, the feverish press of your hands against his bare skin, the sweet sounds you kept making — sounds that he was responsible for, that he was drawing out of you — every part of you was driving him toward madness at each passing second.
Too much and nowhere near enough.
He needed — he didn't have a precise word for what he needed, only the overwhelming awareness that he needed more of it, more of you, more proximity than was currently physically possible given that you were already as close as you could get.
Beomgyu broke the kiss only to stand up, towering above you and you had half a second to register the loss before he came back down to recapture your lips. Tilting his head to find a deeper angle, he cupped your face with a possessiveness that felt completely natural to him now. Thumbs pressing against your jaw before he let them travel — sliding down the column of your throat and tracing the lines of your collarbone, traveling lower until his fingers found your waist and dug in. He pulled you flush against him which prompted your hands to tangle themselves into the hair at his nape because the alternative was falling.
“Remember earlier,” he said against your mouth, his breath warm across your lips, “when you said being chosen tonight meant you were unlucky?”
You could barely think straight enough to answer. “Mhm?”
“I would’ve spent the rest of my life regretting it if it had been anyone else.” He pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, voice roughened beyond repair.
Beomgyu could not stop thinking about how fragile chance truly was.
The possibility of some other version of tonight, some parallel arrangement of events where you had gotten the luggage free on your own or someone else had been the one to offer a hand. Some other reality where he never learned your name at all. It left a bitterness crawling across his tongue he wanted to retroactively prevent.
Every alternate path that did not lead directly here felt not just improbable but wrong, an offense against some order of things he hadn't known he believed in until this moment. Because right now, you were there in front of him with flushed lips and dazed eyes. You were his reality — and he couldn't imagine having been anywhere else.
“That’s a terrible thing to sound so pleased about,” you told him, a smile threading through it despite yourself. You tipped your head to one side with a feathery exhale, wetting your lower lip. You wouldn't have had it any other way either. You knew he could see it, and neither of you needed to say so out loud for the fact to sit plainly between you. But you still wanted him to hear those words. “I think I would’ve hated it too. For the record.”
The smile that crossed his face at that was slow and a little smug and deeply, irredeemably pleased with itself.
"You look very satisfied with yourself," you told him.
"I am," he said, without any apparent remorse about it.
You laughed, and he caught the sound of it in his mouth with the same consuming want that had been there from the very beginning. You felt it everywhere, felt it travel all the way down your spine and settle low in your stomach. You could feel the hard press of him through his jeans, more than substantial and it pulled a genuine gasp which got swallowed by him.
He spun you, guiding you backward until the back of your knees met the edge of the bed and you went down and he came with you. Beomgyu held himself above you on one forearm braced beside your head, his hair falling forward in dark disheveled strands.
“Beomgyu—” His name barely survived the kiss.
It was still more coherent than his reply which didn't make it to language at all but was a low sound against your skin as his mouth found the curve of your throat and began to move downward. The heat of it was dizzying; the solid press of his chest against yours and you had to close your eyes because keeping them open felt like too much. Your back arched off the mattress on its own when he licked and nibbled on your skin with growing hunger, and every breath he dragged from you appeared to drive him further past reason.
You had never been kissed this way before. There was yearning in every part of him now, laid bare beneath your hands without concealment, and the proof of it sent your pulse racing harder when he lifted his head again to look at you.
The pause made you finally regain some semblance of rationality. When he did nothing but stare at you, a small crease formed between your brows.
“What?” you asked.
“Nothing.” He touched the side of your face, fingers tracing the line of your cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.”
The simplicity of his compliment made heat crawl up your cheek. You laughed softly, and you knew you looked a complete mess. But Beomgyu thought the opposite of whatever you were thinking about yourself. You looked even more beautiful. It made him smile too.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead, the curve of your cheek, then the tip of your nose. The tenderness of it nearly ruined you more than the heated kisses had. He returned to your mouth briefly before turning his head, brushing his lips against the shell of your ear.
A startled giggle burst out of you immediately, your shoulders curling inward. “Wait—”
“You’re ticklish there?” he asked, already smiling against your skin.
“That’s not funny.”
“I think it’s a little funny.”
You shoved weakly at his chest while laughing again. He joined you, his forehead dropping to the curve of your neck and for a suspended moment you were just two people lying tangled together on a hotel bed, laughing at nothing in particular, and it was so easy and so warm that you felt your chest expand with it. You couldn't remember the last time laughter had found its way into a moment like this. It made the whole thing feel weightless, unlocked from gravity, driven by nothing except warmth and pleasure and the specific delight of being here with this specific person.
He was back to trailing kisses down the torrid skin of your collarbones before biting down on the supple flesh, eliciting a breathy moan from you.
“Beomgyu, please.”
He was breathing rougher now after hearing his name fall from your lips that way. Your head fell back against the mattress and the full line of your throat opened to him, an offering, and he took it without pause. His hand slid down your side before stopping at the hem of your shirt. Fingers curled into the fabric, his eyes lifted to yours first.
“Can I take this off?” he asked softly.
By now here was no patience left in you for a slow answer. You were hot and restless and had been running on the ragged edge of wanting him for long enough. Nodding vigorously, you let him help you. Fabric disappeared in hurried movements and half-broken kisses, your fingers brushing clumsily against his wrists whenever both of you reached for the same place at once. You wanted nothing more than the feeling of his torrid naked skin on yours.
The second the last barrier disappeared between you, you pulled him back down with a renewed hunger. When your tongue swept against his lower lip a shuddering moan tore from him. It vibrated straight into your mouth, sending a fresh pulse of heat coiling low in your core that made your toes curl against the mattress.
Even though the separation felt visceral when he sat up, the thin strand of saliva still connected your mouths for a fleeting second before breaking apart had your mind reeling. He parted your legs and settled between them. You had to resist the urge to reach for him again just to have something to do with your hands, which were suddenly and inconveniently purposeless at your sides.
You didn't know if Beomgyu had read your mind or not. Because the next moment he gathered both your wrists in one hand and held them above your head, pinning to the mattress.
"Keep them here for me, love."
The way he spoke, followed by a sweet kiss to your forehead had you clenching around nothing. You felt your arousal pooling and her skin prickling with heat, heart thundering. A whine forming in your throat that you swallowed back down, your thighs instinctively pressing inward to relieve some of the ache that had been building since the moment his mouth had first found yours. The effort was largely unsuccessful with the way he was holding your knees apart. Nothing but the slow and mounting burn of wanting him and being made to wait.
You watched him through heavy lashes as he took you in, his chest rising and falling with the same labored cadence as yours. His hand came down to the base of your throat — open-palmed, barely any pressure, just the heat of his skin against yours before he drew it downward in one long, slow pass. Over the swell of your chest that had your nipples perk up, following the line of your sternum, across the plane of your stomach, and everywhere his hand traveled the skin came alive behind it.
"You're so beautiful. I keep thinking I've gotten used to it and then I look at you again," he said, and his voice had gone so low it was nearly gone entirely. The candor in his eyes was almost too much to hold.
You bit down on your lower lip, trying to hide the shy smile. "Mhm. You said that already."
His face softened further at that, and his hand came up to cup your face, thumb tracing your cheekbone. He tilted your face toward his.
"I know," he said simply. His eyes stayed on yours. "I'm glad it was you. Out of everyone on that train tonight, I'm so glad it was you."
"Do you mean it?" you whispered back.
He took your hand from above your head and brought it down to his chest, pressing your palm flat against the place where his heart was. The gesture was so nakedly honest that it took you a moment to breathe around it.
"I do," he admitted earnestly. "What do you want me to do to make you believe?"
There was no doubt that you believed him, but he was close to begging. This man — who had been so consuming just minutes ago — was now looking at you with flushed cheeks and eyes gone wide and earnest. He was stripped of every layer of dominance he'd been wearing so naturally, and he looked so genuinely, openly gone for you that you had to press your lips together to hold back the moan just from that sight. He just kept getting better. Every single time you thought you had a handle on what he was, he turned into something more interesting.
You bit the inside of her cheek, considering. "Think you can be good for me?"
His breath left him in a rush. "Anything you want, baby." The endearment came out like it had been waiting. "I can be so good."
You tilted your head, fingers trailing idly along his jaw. "Mhmm, yeah? How will you do that?"
Beomgyu flashed you a boyish smile before pressing feathery kisses on your stomach, working his way downward and stopping right over your glistening cunt. He groaned, thumb finding your clit when he registered exactly how much he had done to you. He moved a slow, exploratory circle over that bundle of nerves and he drank up every twitch and gasp your body gave him.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispered against your inner thigh. You let out another soft sound that had his mind reeling, and he felt his cock twitch in his jeans at the thought of how much more of that he could draw out of you if you'd let him. "You can trust me."
You ran your hand through his hair, a lopsided smile on your lips. You did trust him. There was no fear in you when it came to him.
"You can do whatever you want with me," you breathed out. You never said things like that — had never felt the ground beneath you feel solid enough to say it and mean it. You meant it now. With him, in this specific moment, it felt not only natural but true. "I'm all yours."
There was a flash of something primal in those gentle eyes the moment those words left your mouth. The small smirk that followed arrived slowly and it was a different creature entirely from the boyish smile of a few minutes ago. Beomgyu blew a soft breath directly over your center — barely anything, a whisper of air — and your whole body shivered in response, a tremor that started at your core and radiated outward to your fingertips, your thighs drawing in on instinct before his hands spread them back open.
"Beomgyu—" His name dissolved into a gasp before you could finish it, your back arching clean off the mattress when he pressed his lips to your clit. A kiss so devastatingly soft it turned your brain into mush. "Oh fuck, ah—"
He smiled against you. You felt it, and it sent another shudder rolling through you causing you to blindly chase that feeling again.
Beomgyu had always considered himself a patient man. That quality was currently hanging by the thinnest possible thread, because the moment he tasted you it detonated through his senses so completely that the shockwave traveled all the way to his fingertips before plummeting his sanity somewhere down to his dick.
Encouraged by your whimpers, he flattened his tongue against your clit before delving lower to lap at the velvety lips of your pussy, exploring the wet heat with long, languid strokes. He savored the way you were so warm and slick against his tongue and each time your inner walls clenched, he probed deeper. Your juices dripped down his chin, a filthy reminder of how desperately you needed this.
He gripped your thighs, your hips, urging you forward — coaxing you to move against his mouth, to take what you needed from him — and when you did, when your hips rolled down into him with that small, desperate press, he felt his mind going completely blank. Fuck — there was your hand gripping his hair. He was huffing and taking short breaths. There was a ringing at the edges of his hearing as he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes wide and glossy because in this moment, he felt like he was made to kneel between you. You were flushed and breathing heavily but looked extremely beautiful like this.
"You taste fucking divine." His words were muffled between your cunt.
He was drunk, so high on you as he watched you let out a high pitched gasp when he eased in two fingers. Your folds stretched around the thickness of them, clenching down hard before he had fully seated them, and he groaned against you at the sensation. He began to move them in a slow drag, feeling the way your soft walls responded to each angle, each depth, each curl of his fingers, and you were already so far gone and so slick that the slide of it was obscenely easy and obscenely good.
Your head went back against the pillow. The bedsheet crumpled in your fist. His name was falling from your mouth in fragments — just sound, broken and breathless and needier than you had ever heard your own voice. Closing your eyes you let yourself get absolutely lost in the ecstatic pleasure he was giving you.
He had made you a promise and he intended to keep it. He picked up every micro reaction you gave at every thrust of his fingers, every tremble of your body when he sucked on your clit before swirling the tip of his tongue over it until he figured out what was going to take him to guide you over the edge. But looking at you, it didn’t seem like he was going to need to do much work anyway.
He could feel you spasming around his fingers, your moans were coming faster now, falling over each other, your thighs closing around his head. He was suffocating but it felt excruciatingly good that his eyes rolled briefly before he wrenched them back open, because he needed to see you, needed to watch every second of what he was about to do to you, and he was not going to miss it for anything.
Amidst all that, Beomgyu humped the mattress below him, the taste of you and the sound of your voice and the grip of your fingers in his hair combining into something that was rapidly exceeding his capacity to contain. He curled his fingers and stroked upward into the soft, swollen spot that made your whole body seize, and did it again, and on the third stroke he sucked your clit into his mouth and held it there with the flat of his tongue pressed firm against it — bringing you over a mind shattering orgasm.
It was the scratch of your nails on his scalp and the sound of his name breaking apart in your throat that made him cum. His release poured out of him in waves that left him loose and trembling and utterly, completely spent. He pressed his forehead against your inner thigh and breathed, ears ringing faintly, and the bliss that settled over him in the aftermath was so total and so warm that for a long moment he couldn't have told you where he was or how any of this had happened.
"Gyu…" you croaked. You were still trembling from the aftershocks, your whole body loose and oversensitive. You reached for him anyway, fingers finding his jaw. "Come closer."
He complied with your request and you took the chance to grab his face and kiss him hard, tasting yourself all over his wet lips. He moaned into your mouth and pressed against you. It was denim against bare skin that had you mewling, your hips jerking upward on reflex. You broke the kiss with trembling hands as they traveled down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans, working the button with fingers that weren't quite cooperating, and he let you — watched you with his chest heaving and his weight braced on one forearm above you — until the zip gave and he took it off. Your hands found the front of his boxers and stopped.
The fabric was unmistakably, warmly wet, and your brain took a full second to catch up.
"Fuck," you breathed, one finger hooking into the waistband, pulling it down slowly. His cock came free and you stared at it — flushed and thick and coated with his creamy release. “Did you cum?”
"Couldn't help it, love." His voice had the faintest note of sheepishness threading through the warmth of it. "You were so fucking good."
You didn't say anything, because there was nothing to say and also your mouth had stopped functioning properly. You pushed his boxers the rest of the way down and he kicked them off, and then he was kissing you again before he pulled back just far enough to speak against your lips.
"Protection?"
You nodded toward your bag. Beomgyu followed your gaze and reached for it in one fluid motion, rummaging through it. He found what he needed, tore the packet open with his teeth and rolled the thin rubber over his shaft, giving it a few pumps.
He was — there was no clinical way to put this — beautiful, in a manner that made your oversensitive pussy clench with a want so acute it bordered on painful.
The anticipation that coiled within your stomach crawled up to your throat and through your chest, gathering all your oxygens from your lungs on its way. Beomgyu shuddered over you, hands roaming, fingers mapping out your skin like he was committing every inch of you to memory. He lined the tip of his cock against your entrance, and drew it torturously, inexcusably slowly along your folds without pushing in.
"Beomgyu, please," you cried out after he kept stroking you. "Please—"
"Tell me if it gets uncomfortable." He was panting, chest rising and falling against yours, and he reached down to guide your knees upward, folding them gently toward your chest, opening you further. "Tell me if I hurt you, okay?"
Your bodies flushed together, every inch of heated skin sliding against the other as Beomgyu’s tip breached inside with the moan of your name. He kissed you, so deeply, so fiercely, that the gasp you let out at the stretch was entirely devoured by his mouth. The overwhelming pleasure flooded both of you until he couldn’t keep his head up anymore and it lulled forward beside yours.
Beomgyu’s mouth hung open, puffing against the hot skin of your neck as he seated himself inside you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt and you were so full of him that your vision had gone soft at every edge. He gritted his teeth, jaw clenching as he had to fight the urge to cum from just feeling your tight walls sporadically clenching around him. Strong arms bracketed your head, caging you in and his hips started to roll in deep, languid undulations — not thrusting so much as grinding.
Each thrust carried him to the very limit of your depth before drawing back in a long, dragging pull that had every nerve ending inside you lighting up in sequence. The stretch of him was extraordinary; you felt every ridge and contour of him on each withdrawal with a vividness that had you gasping and moaning.
"Feels sooo good, Gyu—!!" you were now blabbering incohesive words, brain a complete mush under the overwhelming and capsizing pleasure of him.
Beomgyu tried to hold onto the last bit of his sanity when he felt your hand trail up to the hair on his nape, curling and tugging on a fistful. Even with a snowstorm outside, both your bodies were glistening with sweat and heat radiated off of you as you were pressed chest to chest; there was nowhere for either of you to go, every exhale of his landing directly against your face and every inhale of yours pulling in the scent of him, the heat of him, the totality of him.
Tears of pleasure sprung to your eyes. He brought his face up from biting your neck to smash his lips against yours. His tongue glided over you in messy strokes, saliva pooling at the corner of your lips and hot puff of breath exhaling against his mouth.
For the last several minutes, the bruised area was sending a dull throb through him with every movement — but Beomgyu did not give a single fuck about it. How could he even bother with it when you were there underneath him? Face blissfully fucked out with glistening lips and teary eyes, you warmth enveloping him so wholly — his shoulder could wait indefinitely. There was not a version of this moment in which he was going to stop.
The depraved sound of skin against skin along with your mingling groans and gasps resonated off the walls of the room. He could feel you clenching around him, could tell you were reaching your high again soon with how thoroughly fucked out you looked and sounded.
"Beomgyu—’m close,” is all you managed before crying out, the rest of whatever you were going to say dissolved as your back arched off the mattress, every inch of contact maximized.
You gripped him like a vice, your body quivering when you finished, his name spilling from you so sinfully that his vision went white at the edges.
He became the louder one then — groans and grunts as his thrusts became sloppier, helping you ride out your orgasm before he buried himself to the hilt in one deep thrust and spilled into the condom with a long, broken groan pressed into the curve of your neck.
Both of you were breathing hard, the sound of it filling the silence left by everything else. He didn't pull out, stayed exactly where he was, his weight settling into you gradually as the tension released from his muscles all at once. You felt him softening inside you slowly as the two of you drifted back to earth.
"So perfect," he slurred against your skin.
His lips left trails of kisses around your chest, neck, and shoulders, as if making up for every mark he couldn't leave. Tasting the salt of your skin, his tongue traced your areola that dragged a whine out of you even now. He sucked gently, then harder, then dragged his teeth across the swell of flesh before soothing it with his tongue.
You sighed at the sensation, feeling your body reaching absolute bliss. His voice brought you back from slipping into dreamland.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, a hand running through your hair and you melted at the soothing feeling.
He lowered your legs carefully onto the mattress afterward, though neither of you made any real attempt to move apart. His chest still pressed against yours in places and your knee hooked loosely over his thigh.
“Mhm.” Your eyes slipped shut again for a second, contentment pulling through you slowly. “Is your back alright?”
Beomgyu laughed breathlessly. “We might need another round of that ice spray.”
Your eyes flew open immediately, horrified enough to make him break into genuine laughter this time. He dipped down before you could scold him, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
“I’m joking,” he murmured against your skin. “Mostly.”
“Beomgyu.”
“There she is.” His grin widened lazily. "I was wondering how long before I got that look."
You sighed despite yourself and cupped his cheek, thumb brushing back and forth absentmindedly over warm skin. His expression changed the second you touched him again; softer instantly, eyes lowering for half a moment before returning to yours.
“You know,” you said slowly, “we’ve thoroughly ruined any chance of being friends."
“Mmhmm, well.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss into your palm. "Wasn't planning on being your friend for very long anyway."
You raised a brow at him. "Really."
Beomgyu smiled into your hand before finally looking at you properly. There was still heat in his eyes, though now it mixed too openly with affection.
"I meant it when I said I wanted to earn your trust," he spoke earnestly, playing with your hair. "I really did mean that. But somewhere around tonight, after everything—" He exhaled another laugh beneath his breath. “I got selfish. I think staying only friends with you would’ve actually killed me.”
Your stomach flipped hard at the honesty in his voice. You didn’t think you could handle any more of this man — he was seriously too much for your heart.
"You're so cute," you cooed, poking his cheek.
He stared at you. "I just confessed my suffering to you."
"You did it adorably, though."
Beomgyu stared at you in disbelief that lasted approximately a few seconds before your sweet laughter dismantled it. His mouth twitched. He pressed it flat. It twitched again. You were still smiling when his eyes dropped to your mouth; the fondness remained and the teasing still there, but desire began to creep back in beneath it piece by piece.
“Can't believe you say things like that right after ruining me for half the night,” he murmured, fingers sliding along your thigh again.
Your mouth curved. "Half the night?"
"Yeah." He chuckled, thumb grazing your bottom lip. “I’m trying to sound respectable.”
You opened your mouth and sucked on his thumb, swirling your tongue around it. The heat began its slow return through your body, and watched his jaw tighten when you released his finger with a pop. "I like you better when you're honest."
He simply looked down at you with a slow smile, tonging the corner of his lips. He then shifted a bit up and you keened with delight when he rolled his hips in one slow, purposeful thrust.
“I don’t think I’m anywhere near done with you yet.”
SUMMARY: Text messages between you and your infuriatingly handsome coworker who is nothing but persistent!!!
DISCLAIMERS: Hi txtblr. it’s me again. please take beomgyu ok thank u. strictly smau!!!!! bookstore coworkers, lots of flirting fluff YAYYYY, happy ending okay !
💌 mika’s message HIIII BEOMGYU. OKAY BYE. this somehow took me forever idk. please if u hated this can u act like it was good anyways? thanks sm.
synopsis: yeonjun and you work at rival companies and he’s always looking for a way to prove you wrong.
warnings: 🔞!!! yeonjun and reader pick on each other, rivals to lovers, mentions of fingering, unprotected sex, pull out method used, choking (f!rec), handjob, mirror sex, prob forgot some sorry
wc: 3.1k
an: posting early because I can't keep anything in my drafts thats done and if I look at it too much I wont like it. also this one kinda got away from me it was supposed to be hate sex but I don't think it really turned out like that lol so sorry about that and also more rivals to lover and not enemies to lovers ;-; forgive me pls feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]
this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the other fics here!
[dumdum m.list]
It had only been a summer since you had last seen yeonjun and you would have been better if it had been longer. Even just thinking of the last event the two of you had attended together made your blood boil. both of you sneering at each other waiting for your cars, “I mean the numbers aren't looking too hot for you, down two percent in just the last quarter,”
you had rolled your eyes arms crossed as you cursed the valet for being so slow, “well some of us don’t fudge the numbers to make our company look good,”
his scoff was stone cold, “If you think- no I'm not even going to tolerate that accusation,” his hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw tight.
“Then don’t start with me,” you had fallen into silence, both of you having fought all night. Every time you tried to rub elbows with another firm, Yeonjun was right at your side trying to wedge himself into the conversation, to steal anyone away who was willing to talk to you.
This late after the event you couldn’t think of anything better than going home as soon as possible and yet your car still wasn’t here; Neither was his.
“I'm so sorry for the inconvenience but it seems there is a problem with one of our cars,” the valet states, their hands folded apologetically in front of them, “we only have the one left unless you’re willing to wait forty minutes. We did check the routes and both of you seem to live on the same street and if you’re willing-“
“no,” you start at the same time yeonjun says, “That’s fine,”
“I don’t think I’d be able to survive a car ride with you, you’d take up all the air,” the valet looked mildly uncomfortable as yeonjun and you stared each other down.
“well if you’re willing to wait then by all means don’t let me stop you,”
"I am not waiting,” you would call someone before you let yeonjun watch you stand here in his rearview mirror feeling like he won the night.
“Well I’m not waiting so suck it up,” you huff a humorless laugh at the way he waves you away. “we will take the car it's fine,”
“We will compensate you both for the inconvenience we are so so sorry,” the valet apologizes wanting to be done with the situation.
“it’s okay we’re friends,” his cocky grin adds to your annoyance.
“the day i’m friends with you is the day you’re sucking up to me after my company absorbs yours,”
“Please we both know it will be the other way around,”
you don’t even try to fight back, you're too tired from the day ready to get the ride over with so that you can cozy up in your apartment and think about anything else besides yeonjun. For the short car ride you could play nice. You didn’t even say anything when he was quick to get Into the car first. Both of your companies always rented out the same car place after events that had drinking involved. The sleek blacked-out suvs provided layers of privacy from the outside in. The divider separating the front and back seat when closed made the back seat seem like you were truly secluded, important calls could be made without the driver hearing so long as you made sure the window was closed. The driver wasn’t able to see into the back unless it was open. It wasn’t an ideal place to be seated next to someone you didn’t like.
“The pavilion is first for drop off. Does that work for you two?” the driver asks both of you nodding as he closes the divider leaving the two of you in complete silence.
“When did you move into the pavilion? If I had known we were neighbors I would have sent a basket of something,"Yeonjun asks, sitting back and getting comfortable for the drive, his legs spread knee knocking yours.
“Only a month ago so if you’re still handing out gifts i’d like you to keep it so I’m not indebted to you in any way,”
“I’ve seen the penthouse layout the place is huge you couldn’t possibly be sharing that whole space alone,”
“if that is some way of asking me if I have a partner-“
he cuts you off. “I was asking if you were going home to anyone or your vibrator because someone or something needs to work out the tension the stick up your ass gave you,”
“you’re a fucking dick,” you roll your eyes
“I’m just saying only uptight people don’t get laid maybe that’s your problem, you haven’t gotten off,”
“If you’re suggesting it be you to do it I’d rather go with the vibrator. i’m sure all the girls who find themselves in your bed fake it only because they don’t want to bruise your ego,”
he laughs, “If you think I can’t get a girl off-“
“I would bet money, pretty boys like you don’t work too hard in the bedroom besides maybe a little nipple play but that’s only if you’re a boob guy,”
“I’ll prove it,”
Now you’re laughing, hand over your mouth to try and catch the sound but it keeps bubbling up, “What?”
“I’ll prove it,” he repeats, shrugging like it’s nothing at all.
“Okay prove it then,” and he was digging in his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He pushed open the divider and told the driver to do a couple laps around the street leaving him a few bills before shutting the two of you back into your bubble.
You’ve never confessed to anyone what happened in the back of that car. Not even when you were a few drinks in with your friends and they giggled about their best orgasms. You kept your mouth shut and prayed you would never stumble across yeonjun again.
It was hard to admit he was right. Even just thinking about the way he looked as you got out of the backseat, that grin so devilish before he licked your wetness clean from his fingers. You had egged him on and now you found it impossible to cum without thinking about the way he completely shattered your world. His breathy voice pressed right to your ear, “I want to hear you, I want to know just how good I’m making you feel,” how when you moaned he praised you, every “good girl,” adding to the build-up to your climax. Only now can you look back and hate on the moment because that was exactly what it was; a moment you desperately wanted to forget. No man, not even yeonjun deserved to have that moment hanging over your head.
It was only the next day when someone in your company brought up his name and you hated how you felt yourself ache in remembrance. How even a week later you tried to sleep with someone else and they failed miserably to get you anywhere close to what yeonjun made you feel. At least not until you started to imagine it was him on top of you. Just that confession itself was enough to make you believe he ruined your life. It was always a good day when you could successfully push away that night from your memory. Then it was nighttime and flickers of that car ride flashed in your mind. Even your own hand down the front of your shorts couldn’t satisfy the craving.
Anyone else and it would have been fine even if they were all you could think about but with yeonjun, he was the only competition you had at any other company in your field or at least a competitor that actually made your job worth the effort. If he wasn't there to beat there wasn't much to the day-to-day monotony. If anything it was annoying that he one upped you in something where the playing field was so uneven, if you wanted to match the score you would have to return the orgasm and speak about the fact that he had won in the first place. But you wouldn't be the one to bring it up even if the thought of sucking him off made your mouth water.
For the past few events your companies have participated in you've missed meeting each other at least face on. Any across the room glances were quickly avoided; neither of you looking out for the other. Even this late into the night with so many people already leaving you've yet to stumble across yeonjun. The event hall was loosely filled with people waiting for cars instead of making their way outside to wait, the early fall breeze already setting in. Everyone you've needed to impress tonight is gone giving you the excuse to sit at the bar without worrying people hovering.
Stirring your drink you watch the way the ice clinks against the glass, the faint music covering up the sound of yeonjun sitting down on the leather stool next to yours.
“Are you avoiding me?” the question just on the edge of teasing. You don’t even have to look up to know he’s smirking.
“no,” but even if the one word comes out confident, your pulse is hammering.
“hum, you know for a second my feelings were a little hurt but then I thought about how embarrassed you must feel,”
you finally turn to look at him, his suit tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck, hair uncut since the last time you saw him this close. “Embarrassed? In all the updated stats I've widened the margins between us. you should be embarrassed,”
“my mind has just been so preoccupied thinking about how embarrassing it would be to cum in under three minutes,”
all the blood rushes to your face, not because it’s anything to be embarrassed about but because it’s brought the image right back to you. Your nails digging into his forearm, knees trying to press together as you came. His lips right against your ear, that breathy, ‘look at that,’ still haunts your dreams. and it wasn't only once, he kept going, the heel of his palm pressed right against your clit, ‘too easy I'm sure I could get two more out of you,’
it’s like he can see right into your mind, follow the scene like a script he had memorized. “Just like I said that night, I hate you,” you toss your drink back, not even bothering to push in your seat when you stand.
“Nooo, don't go now,” he chuckles and you roll your eyes. He’s matching you step for step making sure not to leave you alone.
“my cars out front,” you lie not caring that you can see the exit and clearly empty parking lot.
“Perfect I needed a ride and you look like the perfect one to do it,”
you can’t help but laugh, stopping in your tracks making him bump into you, “as if I would put in that much effort to please you,”
“I'd just let you use me,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, “I'm sure you would get a kick out of that,”
“if you want to sleep with me you'd have to do all the work but if you thought I came ‘embarrassingly’ quick,” you roll your eyes “I'd hate to think about how long you would last,”
“If I want to sleep with you? So it’s my choice?” his brows raised lips teasing a small grin.
“I don’t think it would go well,” you’re stalling trying to think of every reason why it was a bad idea to sleep with him. If he had already ruined sex for you without trying if he did put in the effort you’re sure you would never be able to look back. You wanted him, needed him, and yet he was the worst possible option in terms of survival. You would never get over him.
“I can last, I can even prove it,” your eyes go to his lips, watching the way his tongue peeks out to wet them.
“We shouldn’t,”
“I didn’t ask if we should I offered to prove you wrong or if you’re lucky prove you right then you could hold it over me,”
he wanted you desperately to say yes, knew he shouldn’t, and still couldn’t help himself. His memories of that night did little to satisfy him anymore, he needed the real thing. Every night since he could hear the way you whimpered, craved to feel you clenching his fingers again.
“Fine, prove it,” and you don’t think he actually will, not here at least but he’s grabbing your hand leading you to the furthest bathroom in the building.
You hardly have time to process what's happening between the twist of the lock and his mouth on yours. "We shouldn't be doing this," you mutter breathlessly between kisses.
“then tell me to stop, tell me to leave you alone," but his words meant nothing to you as your hands worked on his belt. His lips trailing down your jaw, teeth scratching down your neck.
The restroom is a single stall with little space for two to move around much, and the mirror and sink are right in front of the door. You can see yourself in the reflection pressed against the door, yeonjun sloppily kissing over your pulse. When you slip your hand into his pants, fisting his hardening cock. His moan is pressed right against your collarbone, his hand pressed right next to your head using the door to steady himself. You can feel precum starting to bead up and you swipe it up with your thumb. You give a few loose tugs watching the way he reacts, his lashes fluttering as you circle your fingers over his tip.
“Now look at that, you really do know how to be quiet. Who knew this was all it took,” you tease free hand reaching up to pull on his tie. His head dips until his nose is brushing yours, mouth open in a silent gasp.
His free hand slips right past your waistband, slim fingers finding your clit with ease. Your hand tightens on his tie and he gives a throaty chuckle at your gasp, your brows coming together as you try not to make any more sounds.
“no, I told you last time I wanted to hear you, I need to hear you,” his precise circles on your clit give him exactly what he wants, and you’re unable to keep your whimpers to yourself. He is no better off with his hips bucking forward into your hand, every little noise of his caught on your lips. If you kept up the pace you were at he definitely wouldn't last long, every brush over his sensitive tip was making his knees want to fold.
yeonjun had dreamed about his fingers slipping through your slick again, tasting you, even watching you slam the door as you left; his laugh mixing in with your flustered i hate you. he went through every event fighting the images of that night. But tonight was enough to break him with you dressed in the same skirt you wore then, the fabric smoothed down right over your ass. He wasn’t strong enough to turn away.
Pulling his hand away from the door he reached down to stop your movements needing a fighting chance to last.
“I wanna feel you cum on my cock, do you think you can take it?” and you’re nodding following him to the sink.
The two of you in the mirror look disheveled, lips slightly swollen from the kissing. “I’m kinda glad we don’t work together because I don’t know how I would get work done sitting across from someone this distracting,” his hand slides down the back of your thigh before he lifts your leg. with one hand bracing yourself on the countertop your other goes to the back of your knee to keep it in place while he pushes your panties to the side.
yeonjun wastes no time in running the head of his cock through your folds, taking the time to slap his tip on your clit making you jerk back against him. “if you don’t-“ but you’re cut off by the stretch of taking him in even an inch, your words caught in your throat as he watches your reaction in the mirror.
“hum? What was that?” he asks with a cocky grin looking right back at you, his hands wrapping around your waist, as he pushes all the way in.
The angle has him pressed deep inside you, far enough to make your thighs shake. your head falls forward as he starts to thrust, hips knocking against yours pushing you further to the countertop. “fuck- you feel so good,”
The praise makes you clench around him, his moan echoing in the small space. He pulls out almost all the way before snapping his hips back against you the force sends you down to your elbow.
yeonjun wants to see your face, needs to see the way you come undone for him again. Taking one of his hands he loosely wraps it around your throat guiding you back up to lean against his chest. “Look at us, look at the way you’re taking my cock, don’t we look good together?” his mouth is right next to your ear as he asks, his fingers tightening enough to feel every vibration from your moans.
“Are you going to cum for me? I wanna feel it,” the hand on your hip goes to your clit helping the build up of your climax. You can’t even form words to reply before you’re falling over the edge.
yeonjun has to slow his pace as you cum, your gummy walls sucking him in as he helps you ride out your high. He has to drop his hand from around your throat when he pulls out giving the last few tugs on his cock before he spills hot streams of cum on the back of your skirt.
“I think I won,” he smiles, watching you stand up straight catching each other's gaze in the mirror after you’ve come down for your highs.
Although you know he’s right you roll your eyes turning your hip so that he can see the mess he’s made. “this was one of my good skirts,”
“Whatever,” he shrugs, hand coming back up to your neck and tugging your mouth to his kissing you sweetly like he hadn’t just rearranged your organs. “just bill me for the dry cleaning, and next time i’ll just make sure I get you nice and full so you won’t complain,”
A routine — a fantastic, addicting cycle that Yeonjun had.
It was a night like any other, in your apartment after work — the sun long set as you're cleaning up after making dinner, Yeonjun's portion stashed on the microwave for when he returns — but you know it would sit there longer.
You feel his presents in the room before you hear him — before you can even mutter his lips are on yours, his plush lips utterly consuming you whole. His hands are holding onto your face as if he's trying to ensure you won't leave, moaning into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy and needy — pathetically nipping on your bottom lip as one of his hands slip beneath your shorts —
And that's exactly what gets you into this situation.
Every
Single
Time.
You could barely make it to the bedroom — Yeonjun too desperate for you after an excruciating schedule, tumbling through the doors of your bedroom, pushing you onto the unmade bed crawling ontop of you.
His lips promptly attached back to yours, one of his hands holding your chin up to meet his kiss. You kiss back instantly, sucking on his plump bottom lip earning a small whimper from him. Both of you fighting for dominance in the kiss, both of you desperately chasing each other. His tongue glides over your lip, his tongue meeting yours as he moans at the feeling of your tongue against his.
When he pulls back unwillingly his lips are slicked with both of your spit, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. Your own lips swollen, puffy and wet, parted — trying to catch your breath. He doesn't let you rest for too long. His fingers skim at the hem of your oversized pajama shirt, which is actually his.
He pulls the shirt off your frame, letting it fall onto the floor, unbothered about wherever it ended up. Yeonjun's eyes linger on you, your buds perked from the sudden change in temperature, he lets out a sound edging between a groan and a whine as he drinks you in, absolutely captivated by you under him.
You can barely breathe before his lips are back on you, pressing chase kisses on your lips, his need to feel you, all of you, making it impossible for him to stay still. His lips quickly attach to your neck, kissing down the column of your neck before kissing down the side of your neck slowly, sucking faint marks in his path.
When he finally pulls back from your neck he lingers; you can faintly feel his warm breath centimeters from your marked skin. When Yeonjun finally looks at you his expression is dazed, drunk on you.
"God you're beautiful.." His voice is strained, barely able to contain himself — you can feel him hard against your thigh, trying desperately to not rut into the soft plush skin of your thigh.
you let out a muddled comment he can't understand, too dazed and spent on you to fully grasp anything besides how you taste and feel. You can feel Yeonjun's hands all over you, his touch leaving a burning feeling over your warm skin, his fingers dip into your pajama shorts feeling you through your soaked panties — doing nothing to stop him from feeling you.
"J-jjunie —" you gasp out at the sudden feeling of his fingers catching at your clothed cunt, arching slightly into his touch making him let out a shakey breath.
"Fuck, you're unreal — all this f'me huh, baby?" Yeonjun coos in your ear, his voice unsteady — you can tell he's barely hanging on, his overwhelming need to be as close to you as possible.
Yeonjun's lips attach back to your skin, moaning against it as he kisses down your neck — leaving a sloppy trail of spit in his path. He's practically vibrating with need — his desire to feel you, to be consumed by you. Your perfume, whatever shampoo is lingering from your hair —its addicting.
He mumbles incoherent praises or nonsense into your skin as he moves down your chest, worshiping you with every kiss, his slicked lips kissing every inch of you like a prayer — like your a goddess he's vowed to forever — which you are to him.
If you allowed him — he would kiss you till his lips went numb — till all you could feel was him.
His lips move down your chest with devotion — his free hand holding onto your hip, grounding himself and you. he ghosts over one of your buds — making you let out a gasp, your fingers curling into his hair.
His teeth graze over the sensitive bud — savoring the whiny gasps you let out, Yeonjuns lips wrap around your nipple, his tongue pressing down on the bud — the sensation of his warm mouth on you makes you feel floaty — like if you or him let go, you'll drift away.
His teeth keep grazing the bud — moaning into your chest, fingers tightening on your hip as he relishes in how you feel against him, all for him, only him.
When he finally leaves your bud, its not for long — immediately attaching to your neglected nipple, giving it the same attention.
Yeonjun only pulls away when you pull him off — your tits feeling sensitive and leaving you needing more desperately.
When you pull him off, his eyes meet yours — dark and low, you can see the hunger in him. God he looks unreal, his pouty lips bruised and glossy — cheeks tinged a soft pink.
His lips don't stray from you, connecting to the flesh of your chest — sucking purple marks into the soft skin, nipping at it before pressing soft, reverend kisses on the forming bruises.
He kisses all over you — you can feel the cold air nip at the wet skin trailing from him, kissing all over your chest, down your torso. His body moving with him to press kisses above your belly button — his fingers skimming the edge of your shorts.
Heat radiates off you — the room stuffy and hot from the summer night and Yeonjun's body radiating pure warms.
His lips hover over the waistband, briefly looking up at you before pulling both your shorts and panties off your body in one motion.
You instinctively trying and clamp your thighs shut but he stops you, settling in between your thighs — pulling your legs over his shoulders.
He lets out a gutted sound — in between a groan and a whimper. God he needed this, needed you. Like you were the forbidden fruit he desperately craved.
His nose bumps your clit as he nuzzles into you — his tongue diving in, linking a long stripe up your cunt.
You hear him moan against you — like you're the one in between his legs. His lips attach to the sensitive bud — sucking hard, causing you to arching into him, pushing your cunt even more into his face.
A sharp whimper escapes your lips without warning. His lips detach from your clit, his tongue lapping up all your juices — his tongue prodding your entrance. Your breath ragged as you buck your hips into his face, causing his nose to brush against your clit, pulling a strained whimper from you.
"So good f'me huh, baby?" Yeonjun mumbles against your pussy — not sure if he's talking to you or it but fuck you can't be bothered to care. His hold on you is tight, not letting you squirm away even an inch — pulling you further down on his face. His mouth switching between licking through your folds sucking up all you have to give and toying with your needy clit.
It feels like he's trying to consume you whole — like he's trying to merge you both together so he can't tell where he ends and you start.
Your fingers tug on the strands of his hair, fidgeting and squirming under him — the pleasure is so so good. Your legs start feeling like mush — only aware they are there from Yeonjuns bruising grip to keep them around him.
Usually you would feel guilty, worried you're going to suffocate him but fuck.
The way he's devouring you — moaning into your pussy, you would and do think he's enjoying this more than you.
His tongue breaches your hole, pulling a loud moan from the back of your throat. The room filled with the smell of sex and the wet squelching of him worshiping your pussy. You can't even feel embarrassed — Yeonjun's movements and just him making you feel dizzy and unable to think of anything but his tongue and the orgasm he's coaxing you to.
Yeonjuns tongue is fucking into you at a speed you can barely comprehend, the sloppy and hungry movements are so good — and every so often at a particularly deep thrust of his tongue his nose nudges at your sore clit.
The way Yeonjun's moving — he's hungry. Like he's been waiting for this since he woke up, which he probably has, you make jokes about him being obsessed but to him — this is his solace. The way you feel under him — soft and so compliant to anything he wants, and fuck how you taste. He craves you after a day of schedules and after weeks of touring — nothing can soothe him like being in between your legs pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you.
And fuck — he gets off to it.
Yeonjun can feel his cock — rock hard at this point, all he can do is mindlessly hump into the sheets — the stimulation and your thighs around his head is enough for him.
Your nail nearly dig into his scalp from the pleasure — and when you manage to open your eyes to look at him you can't stop the moan that slips. The bottom of his face covered in wetness — slick and spit, his lips pink and plump covered in your juices. Fuck — the blissed out look on his face, his eyes scrunched in pleasure, you can faintly feel the movements of him humping helplessly into the mattress.
Every sound and touch feels amplified, Yeonjuns moans against your pussy causing vibrations that can only make you whimper in overwhelming pleasure. You can feel your orgasm coming quick, the knot in your stomach tighten with every lick and thrust of his skilled tongue.
Yeonjun can also feel his orgasm approaching — the taste of you and the friction from the desperate humping makes his brain go into overdrive — yearning to taste you, feel you come undone for him. His tongue attacks your sensitive clit — the unexpected jolt of pleasure sending you straight to your orgasm.
Yeonjun helps you rude out the orgasm, his tongue licking your slit and catching on your clit as you desperately grind against his face. Your thighs tighten around his head — your ears ringing as a string of incoherent moans and whimpers flea your lips.
As your orgasm slows so does Yeonjuns movements, not trying to overwhelm you. When your legs finally stop shaking uncontrollably and you can actually think without it being fuzzy. Your grip on his locks loosens, your chest rising and falling fast, trying to catch your breath from the overwhelming orgasm.
When you open your eyes you look down at Yeonjun — whose resting his head on your thigh, his gaze already on yours, with a shit eating grin.
"This is where you say thank you~" Yeonjun teases with a wide, fox like grin. You shove his head slightly letting out a breathed laugh.
'Fuck you." You say breathlessly with a small small in your lips.
"Maybe later." He says swiftly making you click your tongue, rolling your eyes at him.
When your head clears up slightly you sit up a bit — your hand making its way to him which he quickly grabs. pressing a kiss to your wrist.
"Jun —" you're about to protest when his free hand presses you back onto the mattress —unable to fight back, still weak from your orgasm.
"Don't worry 'bout me." He mumbles into the skin of your thigh, pressing a kiss onto it.
You're about to complain again when you realise why. "Oh"
"Yeah, 'oh'." He smirks against your skin before kissing up your thigh making his way into your cunt again.
pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader
genre: friends to lovers, non-idol au, smut, fluff
rating: nsfw, mdni
wc: 6.1k
warnings: unprotected sex, pwp (6k but most of it is smut tbh lol), softdom!yeonjun, inexperienced!reader, dry humping, oral + fingering (f receiving), squirting, petnames (baby, princess, doll, good girl, pretty girl), daddy kink (yeonjun refers to himself as daddy), spanking, creampie, multiple orgasms, light choking but not (he doesn’t squeeze), one instance of spitting, it’s established that jun is older than reader so OPPA IS USED AS AN HONORIFIC and idc if people hate it lol as a korean speaker i’m tired of westernizing shit
a/n - pls picture temptation era hair yeonjun 😵💫 this is inspired by a dream i had.. dreamt every part in his room up until the actual penetration 😮💨 cockblocked by my own brain
masterlist
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yeonjun’s sheets are soft as you sit observing his bedroom, taking note of all the little details that his strong personality shines through, the first time you’ve seen the other side of his door — though how you even got to this point in the first place is still something you’re going over and over in your head as you wait for him to come back.
his soft smile is met with your nervous one as he enters the room with two water bottles in hand, shutting the door quietly behind him — your eyes follow his lithe fingers as he turns the lock — and you watch as he places the drinks on his nightstand before turning to you.
the air suddenly feels much warmer when he sits down on the bed beside you, so close that you’re almost touching, and that fond look on his face only serves to heighten your nerves as you remember that he knows what he’s doing, and you don’t.
well… sort of.
everything happened only a few hours before.
your best friend kai had invited you to hang out with him and his roommates, a chaotic group of guys who you’ve grown to call your friends as well; even yeonjun, who you may or may not have developed the hugest crush on ever from the minute that you’d first met him.
it’d been a few months of back-and-forth, sometimes convinced that it must be mutual and other times doubting your judgement completely — has he always been this flirty, or is it your imagination when his eyes linger just a little too long? — and it was on this fateful day at their apartment when it all fell apart.
(or should you say, all came together).
everyone knows to watch out once beomgyu’s got a couple of drinks in him, so it was only a matter of time before your unlucky day came when he’d decide that you would be his glorious first victim of the afternoon; and that was exactly where you found yourself as he took it upon himself to announce to everyone in the room that you and yeonjun needed to admit you wanna fuck each other already, or else he’d “just have to do something about it himself” (whatever that meant).
to say you wanted to crawl into a ditch and die would be the biggest understatement of the century.
your wide eyes were pinned to the floor as the room erupted into multiple reactions; soobin groaning with a smack upside beomgyu’s head as he scolded the younger not to say stuff like that, taehyun’s “damn,” as he knocked back his beer to cover a laugh, kai burying his head into his hands with a shriek — he swore he didn’t mean to spill your secret to beomgyu a few weeks ago, it just slipped out — and of course, the culprit in the center laughing his ass off unphased.
the only one who had yet to say anything was…
you steeled yourself and glanced up, meeting yeonjun’s eyes that were already watching you from across the living room.
your own widened marginally.
he didn’t look disgusted. he didn’t look put off. in fact, he looked…..
your breath caught. there was a small upturn to his lips, a confirmation, the hint of a smile that solidified as he quirked a brow as if in question. as if he was asking you,
“well? what should we do about it then?”
and everything changed from there.
~
it hadn’t taken long for beomgyu’s quick-moving attention span to be directed elsewhere thanks to some faithful effort on hyuka’s part, the others following suit to spare you from the spotlight — and it was only about an hour later when you found yourself alone in the kitchen for a breather, the sounds of your friend’s quarreling and laughter slightly less eardrum-shattering now from where you stood leaning against the sink.
a few minutes passed before the sound of someone else slipping into the room grabbed your attention.
your peace quickly morphed into apprehension.
“hi,” yeonjun whispered, a small smile on his face that read somewhere between gentle and amused.
his hands were in his pockets as he came to lean casually against the counter opposite you, head tilted slightly to the side as his eyes trailed over your expression, and you cursed your mouth for going dry at the sight of him.
his simple black tank top and sweatpants combo had you fighting to keep your eyes on his face — his face, pretty and framed so nicely by silky black hair that was grown out quite a bit longer than usual these days, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it as your thighs rubbed together subconsciously.
“…hi,” you whispered back.
he breathed out a small laugh.
“i wanted to talk to you, but i didn’t want the others to hear.. figured this was a good opportunity when i saw you get up.”
“r-right..”
why am i so awkward? what the fuck? oh god wait why is he coming closer-
your hands gripped the counter behind you as yeonjun stepped forward. his voice was low, quiet, meant only for you as he stood in front of you with a look on his face that had you melting in more ways than one.
“listen... i know that we’ve never talked about this thing between us. i didn’t wanna scare you off by being too forward, but now that beomgyu ran his mouth about it…”
with a feather-light touch, yeonjun reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.
“well, i’m not gonna deny what he said, and i’m pretty sure that i’m right when i say.. i think you want me the same way that i want you.”
you felt heat running down your entire body like a zap of electricity.
your fried brain didn’t even have the chance to fully process before you heard beomgyu shout from the living room, “hey, what’s taking so long?!” and the scent of yeonjun’s cologne was like a drug as he leaned in and whispered in your ear,
“if you feel ready to see where this goes.. stay here with me when they go out.”
and just like that he was gone, random assortment of snacks in hand to avoid suspicion as he called back to beomgyu, “i’m coming, just couldn’t decide what to eat!”
and you slumped against the counter with legs like jelly.
~
you received a chorus of groans and boos when you told the guys you were gonna go home instead of joining them elsewhere for dinner and drinks, earning brief suspicion only from taehyun as he eyed you questioningly for a moment — their focus primarily resting on yeonjun’s uncharacteristic opt-out that he’d blamed on a sudden migraine.
you felt ridiculous as you even headed down the elevator with them to the street outside, going out of your way to be believable, rounding the corner towards the subway station until they were well out of sight in the opposite direction before heading back up towards the apartment.
you’d’ve been lying if you said that you didn’t consider leaving yourself; your jittery nerves and quick-beating heart nearly convincing you, until you remembered the look in yeonjun’s eyes and the wetness between your legs returned.
yeonjun, choi yeonjun, one of the most popular and charismatic guys that you know — wants you.
and now here you are on his bed.
when you think about it, in your eyes yeonjun is a lot of things that you’re not; the way he just naturally draws people in, the way he carries himself, always making friends so easily; the fact that he’s genuinely cool, somehow good at everything he does and always looks hot doing it; he’s older than you — not by much, but still — and the number one thing on your mind right now:
he’s experienced.
now you’re no virgin, but your measly 1 past boyfriend is nothing in comparison to the fact that yeonjun’s ability to please a woman is a very well-checked box on his long list of skills (if beomgyu is correct about anything he’s blabbed about, at least. which today so far he seems to be).
and now, as he sits here so close to you with that same look on his face as before, that gentle smile and amused little twinkle in his eyes — well, you know right then that you’re a goner.
“hi,” he whispers, just like he did in the kitchen earlier, and you whisper it back with a shy smile.
this is the first time you’ve ever truly been alone with him.
he looks at you for a few moments, and you wonder if this is what amoebas feel like under a microscope until he places his hand on the bed beside you and rests his weight on it, by default leaning in even closer than before.
“i like you.” he says simply.
in panic mode, you resort to sarcasm - “y-yeah-“ you clear your throat - “um, yeah, i think we established that.”
his laugh sends tingles through you as a real smile not stricken with awkwardness finally blooms on your face, the ice slowly melting for you as you start to remember that right, okay, he’s a friend and not some unreachable deity (for the most part, at least).
“i.. like you too,” you respond sheepishly, and you bite your lip at the underlying shift in his tone as he keeps his eyes locked on yours and says,
“i know.”
the mood has suddenly deepened into something else.
his hand comes up to your cheek, thumb ghosting over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “is this okay?” and you don’t know when his face got so close to yours but your eyes are already threatening to flutter shut as you hum in response, lidded gaze glued to his full, pretty lips that you want so desperately all over your body.
“words, baby.” his voice is a whisper, breath warm against your lips, his own so close now that you can almost feel them —
“y-yes.”
and just like that, choi yeonjun is kissing you.
whatever you thought a real kiss was supposed to feel like, whatever kisses you had felt with your ex —
none of it compared to this.
you feel his smile when you quietly moan, his lips even softer than you had imagined, moving against yours slowly, deliberately, expertly, the hand that had been on your cheek sliding gently to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss.
his tongue is warm and soft as it traces along your bottom lip, and you don’t care how eager you probably seem as you let it in immediately, trying not to moan again as he slips it past your lips to caress yours; you melt as he sucks lightly on your tongue before giving a teasing, gentle bite to your bottom lip as he pulls away.
you can’t even imagine how dazed you must look — but his knowing smile tells you enough.
you can’t explain it, but in that moment you gain a hunger-fueled confidence. you want to give yeonjun everything.
fuck, you want him bad.
you’re pulling him back to you faster than you can chicken out otherwise, and the pleased noise he makes as you connect your lips again only spurs you on further to do what you’ve been so badly wanting to:
you touch him, hands sliding from his shoulders up to his soft hair, pulling at it gently as his lips travel down your jaw to suckle at the skin of your neck; you moan, freely this time, eyes sliding shut and head tilting back to give him all the access he wants as you wrap an arm around his shoulders and keep him close.
his hand slides around your waist to your lower back as he slowly guides you down to lay against his sheets, your legs instinctively widening for him as he slots his hips between them, and you groan at the bulge now resting comfortably against your clothed core.
it doesn’t take long before he gently rocks his hips forwards.
you whimper, clutching to his tank top as he continues to kiss and suckle along your neck; your legs tighten around his hips and his lips tilt into a smirk against your skin as your body responds to his like it’s what it was made for, and so he does it again, this time continuing into a steady rocking pace.
the hardness of his cock drags deliciously against your center as he rolls his hips into it again and again, slow enough so that you feel everything, but firm enough that it makes your head spin and your thighs twitch with need.
“oppa,” you whisper, pleadingly, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for but you know that you just need more.
“hm?” he hums back, lips still sucking pretty bruises into your neck,
and it’s like he can read your mind as he asks with another smirk against your skin - “want more, baby?”
you nod quickly with a weak, “mhm,” and your heart jumps as his lips move up to your ear.
“tell oppa what you want.”
the husk of his voice sends shivers straight downwards.
he pulls away just enough for you to meet his eyes and you feel like a rabbit hunted down by a fox, but in your case, you never want to escape from his grasp.
“i.. i-i want…”
you can feel the heat blooming in your cheeks, remembering once again how much you haven’t experienced, and you want to tell him exactly where you want him to put his mouth — but instead your eyes avert from his as you mumble in admission,
“i-i’ve never been… well i’ve never been eaten out before. s-so.. um..”
in your peripheral you can see yeonjun’s brows lift to his hairline in disbelief. “what?”
a finger beneath your chin gently draws your gaze back to his and the genuine bewilderment in his eyes is enough to deepen your blush as he asks, “how could that bastard have possibly survived never tasting you?”
your body buzzes with electricity as your eyes widen; there’s a hunger and determination dancing in yeonjun’s stare that you’ve never been looked at with before.
his intensity makes you shiver in anticipation and it’s like you can taste the honey dripping from his words when he says,
“let me make you feel good, baby. let me give you everything that he should’ve.”
your head spins.
you’ve never felt so desired.
the second that you say okay, yeonjun places one last dizzying kiss to your lips before he’s moving down your body, guiding you out of your shirt as he slowly maps out your skin with his lips — you breathe out a sigh at the way his large hands caress you, intentionality in every touch.
eventually he sits up on his knees, pulling back from a kiss to your navel to reach for the hem of your panties. you shiver when his fingers ghost over your hips.
“lift for me,” he instructs softly, and you do, biting your lip as he begins to slowly pull them down, eyes glued to your cunt, and you watch the way his breath hitches in his throat at the strings of wetness that cling to the fabric.
“fuck,” he whispers, practically groans,
“can’t believe no one’s ever tasted such a pretty pussy before… gonna eat you so good, baby..”
you’re going out of your mind with need, his words alone sending another gush of arousal to your heat, your hungry eyes traveling down to trace the imprint of his rock-hard cock in his sweatpants.
teasingly you ghost your foot over it as he slides your panties from your ankles, and his eyes flicker up to yours as you stare back innocently; his gaze narrows and lips quirk up into a lopsided smirk as his warm hands slide up your legs.
“getting brave, now, are we?” he taunts, stopping at your thighs as he wraps his hands around them and spreads your legs open.
slowly he lowers himself between them, all the while keeping his eyes on yours, and your hips jump at the whisper of his breath against your aching cunt when he says,
“better be careful, doll… any game you try to play, i can play it better.”
and when his fingers spread you open and his lips kiss your clit, you already know that he’s ruined you for any other man.
how could you even dream of anyone else when the tip of yeonjun’s velvety tongue slips out to trace teasingly up and down your slit, or when the pad of his finger circles so lightly around your leaking hole that you might even be imagining it?
no, there’s no way you could be imagining this, not as the warmth of his mouth caresses you as he closes his lips around your clit and gently begins to suck, your head tipping back with a shudder as you whine at the feeling.
“eyes on me, princess,” he murmurs against your cunt, and when you manage to bring your gaze back to his, the sight before you is sinful.
his foxlike eyes dark and dangerous and twinkling as he watches you through his lashes, pretty lips forming a smirk that you can only feel and not see as he whispers “good girl,” - before the next thing you know, his tongue is flattening against you as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy, big hands keeping your jerking hips in place as he begins to ravish you, sucking, licking, kissing, groaning shamelessly at the taste of you and sending vibrations straight through your quivering core as you unravel beneath his touch.
“so fucking good,” he moans, sliding a finger inside of you with ease as he begins to pump it steadily in and out, practically making out with your pussy as you whimper, hands instinctively flying to his hair — you almost pull them away when suddenly he adds another digit, the stretch causing your fingers to tighten in his dark strands as your hips instinctively grind forwards against his mouth.
you’re about to apologize when yeonjun moans even deeper than before.
“that’s it, baby,” he grunts, “use my face. want it so bad, don’t you? go ahead and chase it, cum all over daddy’s tongue.”
something unholy snaps inside of you at that.
“f-fuck-” you cry, doing exactly as he said; you can’t help it as you grind your clit down on his warm tongue over and over and over, hands tightening in his hair as his fingers work impossibly faster, and a new sensation takes over you as the dam breaks and you reach your peak;
you don’t realize what’s happening at first as you’re carried through the most mind-blowing orgasm, until you feel the unusual amount of wetness soaking his sheets and hear yeonjun groaning “fuck, fuck, that’s it, baby, that’s it -“ and he’s three fingers deep as you realize you’re squirting.
it’s as though he can read your body like a book the way he can tell when it’s suddenly too much, his pace slowing gradually until he gently slides his fingers from your sopping hole, placing a final feather-light kiss to your clit before his lips and hands move to soothe your quivering thighs.
“you did so good, baby, holy shit..” the bottom half of his face is soaked in your juices as he mouths along your skin, hands massaging and caressing whatever his lips aren’t kissing;
you’re still bewildered, and can feel the raging blush on your cheeks as you’re quick to blurt in embarrassment, “i-i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to-“
“y/n.” yeonjun looks up. “seriously, that was so fucking hot, you have no idea.”
you can see in his eyes that he’s telling the truth.
“r-really?”
he laughs, finally sitting up; “baby, i- fuck, like, you actually have no fucking idea how sexy you are.” he pushes his hair out of his face and it’s only then that you realize how heavy he’s breathing, the bulge straining against his pants somehow a million times more prominent than it was earlier.
“y/n, i’m so turned on right now that i can hardly think straight. please-“
you meet his eyes again quickly,
“please, i need to be inside you.”
apparently today is the day that you learn just how crazy choi yeonjun makes you, because despite your still-twitching thighs and your pussy so sensitive that you’re sure a slight breeze would send it into overdrive, your body is quick to betray you at his toe-curling words when your walls clench from the emptiness and a fresh wave of arousal gushes from your soaked heat.
“if you don’t fuck me right now i’m gonna go clinically insane.”
his brows lift only for a moment before he’s laughing, swooping down to catch your lips in a kiss. “well we can’t have that, now, can we?”
he gets off the bed, your eyes hungrily tracking his every move as he peels the tank top from his torso and casts it to the ground; “fuck,” you whisper as your gaze trails down the defined ridges of his abs; “fuck,” you groan when he hooks his thumbs around the waistband of his sweatpants and pulls them down with his boxers in one go.
his cock is long and slender and flushed pink, the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as you imagine the weight of it in your mouth.
if it were anyone else, you’d wanna slap the shit-eating grin right off of his face, but this is yeonjun, and the fact that he knows he’s all that only makes him 10x hotter.
you can’t tear your eyes away from his length as you sit up on your elbows to watch, and he enjoys it, pumping himself in his hand and smearing the pre-cum around his tip with a satisfied hum.
but as he reaches for the condoms in his desk drawer, you surprise both him and yourself when you stop him.
“no.”
he pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with quirked brows —
“want you to fuck me raw.”
his mouth goes dry. you can see the fire dancing in his eyes as he slowly straightens, keeping himself under control as he asks carefully,
“are you sure?”
you bite your lip and quickly nod. “wanna feel you,” you breathe, and that does it for yeonjun as he’s back on top of you in an instant, his lips pressing to yours in a searing kiss as you moan around his swirling tongue.
his hand is on your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as if to say you’re mine, and you whine deep in your chest when you feel the tip of his cock sliding through your slippery folds.
“gonna fuck this pretty pussy so full of my cum that it’ll be dripping out of it for days,” he rasps as he taps the head of his cock repeatedly over your clit, the lewd noise met with your whimpers as you grasp at his bicep.
“please,” you whine, “want it, please-!”
his hand slides from your neck down to squeeze your tit as he sits up and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder with his free hand.
“so good for me,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and lusting as he looks down at you, dragging his shaft back and forth along your slick pussy; “such a good girl, begging for daddy.”
and when he finally pushes the head of his cock past your entrance, stretching you open as he sinks inside, stars explode behind your eyes and you nearly cum again right there on the spot.
“fuuck..” he groans in a drawn-out moan, eyes sliding shut and head tipping back as your walls suck him in, mouth falling open before he catches his plush bottom lip between his teeth and looks back down at you through hazy eyes, giving another rough squeeze to your tit in his grasp.
he slides his hand down to press against your lower belly as he bottoms out, your hips twitching as you gasp, and with his other hand he grips your leg that’s slung over his shoulder as he begins to grind his hips against yours.
you can’t breathe, can’t speak, overwhelmed by how fucking good it all feels, the head of his cock massaging places inside of you that you didn’t even know existed as he rolls his hips over and over, whispering fucked-out nothings;
how tight you are, how good you feel, how he’s gonna make you forget your own name by tomorrow.
and when he starts really moving, hips separating from yours only to connect again with a lewd slap of skin on skin each time he delivers a slow, firm thrust to your cunt, holding you in place so you don’t jolt up the bed — well, you never knew that something so delicious existed, and now that you’ve had a taste, you’re already rendered insatiable.
you paw at any part of him that you can reach, hands finding purchase on his thighs as his pace picks up into a steady rhythm, your lips moaning and pleading and begging around words that you can hardly get out of your mouth.
“look at you,” yeonjun coos breathlessly, “so drunk on my cock already.. perfect pussy made just for me, hm? taking daddy so well? good baby.”
he looks as blissed out as you feel, face wracked in pleasure as he picks up the pace, his hand so large where it still presses over your lower belly that his thumb is able to reach your clit, and the added stimulation along with the pressure of his palm sends your head lolling as you twitch and tremble underneath him.
“j-jjunie..!” you whimper, and you can’t help the nickname from slipping between your lips; you’ve never called him so intimately before, never said his name so freely, but your accidental drop of honorifics seems to stir something inside of him as he groans and fucks you harder;
“say that again,” he grunts as you gasp out from the sudden increase in pace.
“jjunie,” you keen immediately, gripping the sheets, gripping his arms, gripping anything as a muttered curse leaves his lips and his thumb circles faster around your aching clit.
“love it when you say my name, fuck,” he groans, hips slamming into yours and jolting you like a ragdoll as you cry out for him, the knot in your stomach tightening so fast that you swear it’s about to snap, and when he leans forward with your leg still gripped over his shoulder and his cock pounding into you at a far deeper angle than before, fireworks fill your vision as you cum around him harder than you’ve ever came in your life.
“yes, yes, yes, fuck, that’s it, cream on my cock, baby, fuck you’re so- s-so tight, fuck- just like that, let go for me, baby, good girl-“
yeonjun’s voice sounds far away as you spasm around him, his thrusts growing sloppier as your cunt clenches him so tight that it nearly forces him out; he lowers your leg back down to the bed and slows down a little to let you catch your breath but he doesn’t stop, and your watery whimpers are like music to his ears as you clutch onto him desperately.
“t-too much, too much-!” you hiccup, tears spilling from your eyes at all the overwhelming sensations, but you don’t actually want him to stop and he knows it too — he coos at you, hand sliding up to rest on your throat again as he leans down and licks a stripe up your neck to your ear.
“you can give me one more, baby, can’t you?”
a shiver rolls down your spine at the devilish smile in his voice, sweet like honey as he catches your earlobe between his teeth.
“one more so daddy can stuff you nice and full.”
your pussy clenches. “w-want your cum,” you whimper dumbly in response, too fucked out to think of anything else, and yeonjun smiles as he leans back and runs his hands down your body until they reach your hips and squeeze.
“i know,” his thrusts are still steady as he watches you with twinkling eyes; “and i’m gonna give it to you.”
your eyes widen in protest as he suddenly slides out of you without a warning, but the words die in your throat and are replaced with a squeak of surprise when he flips you over onto your stomach instead.
“ass up for me, pretty girl.”
you obey immediately with what strength you have left in your shaky limbs, a quiet whine escaping your throat over not being able to see or touch him anymore.
his little laugh from behind you indicates that he caught it.
“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes as his hands massage over your ass, “we have all the time in the world.”
your heart doesn’t even have time to skip a beat at the promise of his words when suddenly his tongue is on your pussy, your knees nearly buckling at the heat of his mouth as he licks from your clit up to your fluttering hole, and you gasp as he spits on it before his cock enters you fully in one single thrust.
you cry out, knees buckling for real this time as he holds you up, sheets crumpled in your fists as his hips immediately pick up into a quick, dizzying pace.
“love the way you fall apart around me,” he murmurs from behind you, squeezing your ass, “love how you take me so well…”
you want to touch him so badly, want to see the pleasure pooling in his eyes; you don’t have time to respond before he lands a smack on your ass, your surprised squeak spurring him on as he does it again, drilling into your cute little hole like it was made just for him as he breathes out a moan.
from this angle he can see the way your pussy swallows him so hungrily, and his grip on your hips tightens as he drags you back and forth on his cock.
“love.. l-love your.. love this so much… w-wanna be yours…”
he almost misses your dazed mumbling over the loud sound of his hips slapping lewdly against your ass, but he makes out what you said, heart swelling in his chest and cock simultaneously twitching inside of you as he leans forward, his palm sliding up along your spine to brush the hair from your fucked-out face as he pushes your body down against the sheets, chest pressed to your back now and breath caressing your ear as he continues rocking his hips even deeper.
“you’re mine, baby, you’re mine..” he whispers between kisses along your jaw, a reassurance, your soft whimper of a response causing him to bite back a smile as he continues,
“i’ve wanted you for so long.. can’t believe i finally get to have you.” his hand slips beneath you to toy with your throbbing clit, and your ass grinds back against him as a result as you moan wantonly into his sheets.
“i’ve been yours since the.. fuck.. since the second i s-saw you..fuck, p-please don’t stop..!”
your hips are moving with his now as he works your clit faster, mustering your strength and pushing your weight back as you desperately try to fuck yourself on his cock, on his fingers, chasing the rising wave in your belly that’s threatening to break as he meets your quickening movements with his own.
“touch yourself for me, baby,” he murmurs in your ear before removing his hand and propping himself up on his forearms, allowing for a more concentrated angle as he ruts into you, your choked moan muffled by the sheets as you immediately slide one hand down to rub rapidly at your clit, your other one weakly moving to tangle your fingers with his the best that you can;
“gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whimper, drool pooling at your lips, the scent of yeonjun’s cologne and the weight of his body on yours like pure intoxication as he fucks you harder, breaths heavy and staggering in your ear as he grunts,
“cum for me, baby, need to feel it, cum all over my fucking cock-“
and when your third orgasm washes over you, you’re too weak to do anything but let it, body going limp as it wracks over you in pure bliss, the warm feeling of your clenching walls finally sending yeonjun over the edge this time as he shoots his cum into you with a loud and drawn-out moan, voice breaking as he spews filthy words and incoherent curses; he presses his hips impossibly deep against yours before stuttering into sloppy thrusts to fuck himself through the rest of his orgasm as your fluttering pussy milks his cock of every last drop.
the room grows silent save for your heavy breaths, both of your chests heaving as his forehead slumps down to rest against your back; you didn’t realize how tightly you were holding onto his hand until you carefully untangle your fingers from his.
he hisses from the sensitivity as he slides his twitching length out of you.
you look at yeonjun as he rolls off of your back and flops exhaustedly onto his side next to you, and when he meets your eyes, there’s only a passing moment of silence before you both giggle.
his smile is fond and blooming with affection as he rubs a hand up and down your back, moving to smoothe the hair from your face and gently brushing his knuckles across your cheek before resting his hand on top of yours.
“hi,” he whispers.
you giggle again.
“hi,” you whisper back.
“so.. would this be a good time to ask you to be my girlfriend?”
your heart skips a beat and you bite back a smile. “i was worried you’d just want to stick to the sex..” you admit.
yeonjun shakes his head, lips forming into an endearing pout as he laces his fingers with yours.
“nah, you’re stuck with me now, princess,” he grins. “i meant what i said… i’ve been wanting you for so long.”
an indescribable feeling flutters in your chest as you giddily turn your head to bury your face in the sheets, yeonjun laughing as he shuffles closer, rolling you over onto your back despite your giggle-ridden, poorly-executed attempts to fight him off.
you grin up at him and he grins down at you, hovering over you now with a hand on your cheek as his endeared eyes trail over each of your features as if to memorize them.
“my girl,” he whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.
you tilt your head up to meet his lips when he leans in and kisses you softly, your hands playing with the long hair at the nape of his neck.
“i meant what i said too,” you murmur against him.
“mine since the second you saw me, huh?” yeonjun’s cocky grin is light and teasing as you scrunch your nose at him, flicking his forehead and sending him into another pout.
“yeah, yeah. whatever, pretty boy.”
instead of responding he buries his face in your neck in a flurry of kisses as you squeal in surprise, laughing as you wiggle around underneath him;“stop, that tickles!”
“gotta make up for all the lost time when i didn’t make a move,” he reasons as his kisses move to your cheeks, your nose, your lips — you’ve never seen this side of yeonjun before, so soft and gentle and sweet; the fact that it seems reserved only for you sends butterflies fluttering through your tummy.
you spend your evening like that, wrapped in each other’s arms as you talk about your relationship, talk about the feelings that led you here, talk about this and that and everything in-between;
“does this count as our first date?” you ask quizzically. he wrinkles his nose.
“no way, i’m gonna do the most romantic shit ever for that.”
you snort. “isn’t that what this is?”
but you don’t have the chance to tease him any further when the beeping sound of his apartment passcode being entered causes you both to freeze.
you were so caught up that neither of you considered the time; nor the fact that yeonjun does indeed have 4 other roommates who would in fact be coming home at some point or another.
that some point apparently being now as the rowdy chatter of your friends erupts into the foyer until you suddenly hear soobin’s tipsy mumble. “what the… what are y/n’s shoes doing here?”
you and yeonjun turn to look at each other as your friends’ voices fall silent.
the seconds pass and you almost wonder if you’re in the clear…
but of course, no peace lasts forever with beomgyu in the house.
