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𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ taehyun x fem!reader x beomgyu

𝜗𝜚⋆ established relationship (taehyun x reader), perv!taegyu, switch!beomgyu (pathetic beomgyu) , dom!taehyun, beomgyu sits in a literal cuck chair

Spending all of your time at your boyfriends apartment is great, endless affection, homecooked meals, not to mention endlessly teasing his perv of a roommate!

threesome (duh), exhibitionist, voyeurism (literal cuck chair), praise, degrading, double penetration, fingering, oral fem receiving, mxm action (making out), finger sucking, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, overstimulation, dry humping, beomgyu being pervy, mention of beomgyu stealing and fucking readers panties, tit sucking, finger sucking, manhandling, unprotected sex (nono) and so much more holy. THIS IS NOT REALLY PROOFREAD. AND ITS ALSO MY FIRST SMUT PIECE SO PLS CUT ME SOME SLACK.

gyuzies

ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ x ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 [𝘀] 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳 [𝗳] 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁 [𝗮] 𝘀𝗺𝗮𝘂 [𝘀𝗺] 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 [𝗺]

𝖼.𝗒𝗃

boyfriend texts [sm]

he rejects you [sm]

heaven and back 2k [s] — When your boyfriends been out all day, all he wants is to relax in between your legs!

𝖼.𝗌𝖻

boyfriend texts [sm]

he rejects you [sm]

consume 3k [s] — A simple day relaxing with your boyfriend, but hes hot and you're both needy.

supermassive black hole 1.4k [s] —your boyfriends have been teasing you all day by posting gym selfies, finding them on social media first! so you decide to give them a taste of their own medice, they didnt like that.

𝖼.𝖻𝗀

boyfriend texts ii iii iv [sm]

he rejects you [sm]

loser lover, definitely [sm series] — Beomgyu's your bestfriends irritable older brother, who always seems to be there when you need.

ill see you there tomorrow [sm series] — A local cafe hidden away from everyone, where idols frequent unbeknownst to the public, he goes when he just wants to be human, away from cameras and fans, set with a disguise he thinks can hide who he is from the barista (who is definitely not one of the reasons he keeps coming back)

cat dad [sm]

arcade rules 1.3k [f] — After a weekly date with beomgyu, you venture into the arcade. Where you spot a cute teddy bear which he has to try and win for you,

just keep watching 7k [s] — Spending all of your time at your boyfriends apartment is great, endless affection, homecooked meals, not to mention endlessly teasing his perv of a roommate!

pretty boy 3.9k [s] — Your boyfriend is possibly the prettiest guy you've ever seen, and for that alone he deserves everything he could ever want.

friends [ m a sm series] — What can go wrong when you accidentally sleep with your bestfriend?

favourite 2.1k [s] — an assistant manager whos hoping to become a full time manager to one of the hybe groups — heeseung whos known her longer and beomgyu who knows her better both want her as their manager. The only solution — whoever fucks her better wins..

they dont know 'bout us 16.1k [s,f,a] — Sleeping with Beomgyu the first time? A mistake fuelled by rage and tequila. The second time? Annoyance and desperation — you stopped counting after the fourth. When your best friend finds his stupid hoodie in your bedroom you end it — not that he lets you anyways.

𝗄.𝗍𝗁

boyfriend texts [sm]

he rejects you [sm]

just keep watching 7k [s] — Spending all of your time at your boyfriends apartment is great, endless affection, homecooked meals, not to mention endlessly teasing his perv of a roommate!

the one for me! [s] — brothers bestfriend taehyun hard hard thoughts..

𝗁.𝗄

boyfriend texts [sm]

he rejects you [sm]

stick with you 2.6k — a particular date night with kai that ends with him worshipping you in the shower

𝗈𝗍𝟧

suprising them at their concert [sm]

thanks for the flowers prank [sm]

brothers best friend [sm]

photos they send of your boyfriend [sm]

pet names [sm]

not your bias [sm]

dad!txt [sm]

gyuzies

𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 '𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗎𝗌

[ 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪 𝘣𝘦𝘰𝘮𝘨𝘺𝘶 ]

choi beomgyu x fem!reader

» bestfriends brother!gyu, meandom!gyu, sub!reader slight e2l [16.1k]

this was made for my perfect gorgeous loml serene @beomiracles <3 (sorry it took 2 months)

Sleeping with Beomgyu the first time? A mistake fuelled by rage and tequila. The second time? Annoyance and desperation — you stopped counting after the fourth. When your best friend finds his stupid hoodie in your bedroom you end it — not that he lets you anyways.

⤷ contains — ˎˊ˗ smut (three separate scenes), unprotected sex, angst, fluff, avoidant reader, they are both stupid, lots of kissing, marking, hair pulling, objectification, degrading, praise, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, semi public sex, fingering, oral (fem rec), face sitting, pet names (angel, sweetheart, slut, baby etc), implied bi!reader. probably alot more

thank you to my beautiful friends who sprinted w me for these writing sessions ilysm

scan here for group masterlist → 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 ˎˊ˗

elsiece

hearts of fools — k.th (preview)

SYNOPSIS — Curiosity comes with your job, but maybe this is the one time it actually kills the cat. with much misfortune, you get scammed at a fortune telling booth by a guy who claims to ward off "bad omens," then catch him pocketing your cash on your way out! Unfortunately, the bad omen strikes quicker than you thought as your grandma introduces you to the new librarian at her bookstore who happens to be the very same scammer, Kang Taehyun.

⤷ pairing ⭑.ᐟ kang taehyun x fem! reader

⤷ genres & tags ⭑.ᐟ starting off at the wrong foot strangers 2 lovers, librarian taehyun x journalist reader, tarot card fortune teller taehyun (does it for extra cash lmfao), mild playful bickering duo, mutual pining, alcohol consumption (lots of it), fluff, angst

preview wc ⭑.ᐟ 2.6k +

⤷ taglist ⭑.ᐟ opened <33 reply/comment to be added !! ⤷ permanent taglist: @percabethh4ever ⤷ txt permanent taglist: @swangyu

⤷ a/n ⭑.ᐟ I don't know much about tarot card readings but I tried my best to research about them, so my apologies if it's lowkey inaccurate... ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡

"I should clarify something," Tyun says, cutting through your spiraling thoughts. He reaches for the wooden box at the edge of the table, sliding it closer to the center. "The reading itself is free. I do not charge for the cards. However, there is a small tradition associated with my booth."

You narrow your eyes. "What kind of tradition?"

"The offering box," he says, gesturing to the slit in the lid. "Every reading is followed by a closing. Think of it as sealing the energy. You give something, the universe gives something back. It is how the omens clear."

He pauses, letting that sink in. "The act of giving repels bad fortune. It is like putting a coin in a fountain, except the coin actually does something and the wish comes true faster."

You look at the box, then back at his face– that carefully earnest expression that doesn't quite sit right.

It sounds ridiculous. It sounds exactly like the kind of thing a scammer would say.

But the cards are still laid out in front of you, the Tower and the Ten of Swords and Death, and you cannot shake the image of your savings account draining to zero.

"How much?" you ask.

"Whatever you feel is appropriate to counterbalance the weight of the prediction."

You hesitate for half a second before pulling out your wallet. A twenty feels too small for something as ominous as significant financial loss, so you grab a fifty instead and push it through the slit in the box. The paper disappears into the dark interior with a soft thud.

Tyun watches you do it, his expression unreadable. Then he smiles, just barely, and gathers the cards back into his deck.

"Thank you," he says. "The universe thanks you too."

You should leave. You have gotten your reading, made your donation, satisfied your curiosity. Your legs do not move.

"Do you think," you start, then stop, because you can already feel how stupid this is going to sound.

He waits. His patience is infuriating.

"Do you think you could also predict my love life?" The words come out faster than you intend, tumbling over each other like they are embarrassed to be spoken aloud. "Just for fun. Not because I believe in any of this. Just because I am curious."

Tyun tilts his head, and for a split second you think he might refuse. Then he shuffles the deck again, that same fluid motion, cards sliding against cards like water over stones.

"I can," he says. "But the omens do not reset after a single donation. The good spirits protect you in proportion to what you give."

You blink. "So I would have to donate again."

"That is how manifestation works, yes."

"That sounds made up."

He does not deny it. He simply looks at you with those dark eyes and says, "You do not have to believe me. You only have to decide if the answer is worth more to you than the money in your wallet."

You hate him a little bit for how well that lands.

"Fine," you say, already reaching for your wallet again. "But if this prediction is also terrible, I am finding the festival organizer and telling everyone in line that you are a fraud."

"The line is behind you."

"Then I will tell them louder."

He laughs at that– a real laugh, quiet but genuine, and something about the sound makes you forget to be suspicious for a moment.

He pulls five cards this time, laying them out in a slow arc across the purple cloth like he is building something, arranging pieces of a story he has not told anyone before. The candlelight catches the gold foil on each illustration, making them flicker and breathe, and you find yourself leaning forward before you can stop yourself.

"The first," he says, tapping the leftmost card with one finger, "is the Page of Cups."

You look at it. A young figure stands barefoot at the edge of a shore, one hand raised toward the sky, a golden cup clutched to their chest. A fish peeks out from the rim, its mouth slightly open like it is trying to speak.

"This card represents creativity and intuition," he says, and his voice has dropped into something slower, almost hypnotic, like he is pulling you into a current. "It is an invitation to stop thinking so much and start feeling instead. The Page does not care about your spreadsheets or your five year plans. She wants you to be curious, to be playful, to approach your life like there is still something left to discover."

You raise an eyebrow. "So I need to have more fun."

"You need to let yourself want things without justifying them first," he corrects. "The Page appears when you have been logical for too long. When you have forgotten what it feels like to do something simply because it makes you happy."

You think about that. The way you schedule your weekends like appointments, every hour accounted for, every minute spent or saved like currency. The way you weigh every impulse against its cost before you let yourself have it. The way joy has become transactional, a line item on a ledger instead of something that simply happens to you.

"The Page is also good news," he continues. "New romantic prospects, creative projects, emotional beginnings. She does not guarantee success, but she guarantees that something is trying to start. Your job is to not kill it before it has a chance to breathe."

"That sounds manageable."

"It sounds terrifying," he says, almost smiling. "Most people would rather stay where they are than risk being bad at something new. The Page is asking you to be bad at it anyway."

His finger moves to the second card, where a woman sits upon a throne with a golden chalice cradled in her lap. Her expression is serene, untouchable, the look of someone who has already seen the ending of the movie and is simply waiting for everyone else to catch up.

"The Queen of Cups," he says, tapping the card with a single finger.

"The Queen of Cups feels everything and she does not apologize for it, which is probably terrifying to someone like you who I assume likes to keep things neat and contained. The Page asks you to be curious but the Queen asks you to trust yourself– not your head or your pros and cons lists or that voice that tells you to be practical." He pauses, watching your face.

"Because being practical has never actually made you happy, has it?"

You do not answer, which is answer enough.

"She wants you to listen to your gut, that quiet thing in your chest you keep drowning out with logic and schedules and whatever else you use to avoid actually feeling anything." He holds your gaze for a beat longer than necessary. "She is just asking you to stop pretending you do not have feelings."

He looks up at you. "She is compassionate and intuitive and deeply devoted to the people she loves, but more than anything she is receptive. She listens, to others and to herself, which is something you have not done in a very long time, if ever."

You stare at the card. The woman on the throne looks impossibly calm, the kind of calm that comes from never second guessing yourself, never lying awake wondering if you made the wrong choice, never carrying the weight of every mistake like a second skeleton beneath your skin. You are not sure people like that actually exist.

"I am not like that," you say.

"You could be," he replies. "The cards do not show you who you are. They show you who you are becoming."

He looks at you then, something in his expression shifting, focusing, like you are a puzzle he has just decided to solve. "The Queen is the version of you that already knows what you want. She has been whispering to you for months and you have been ignoring her. However, the Knight is here to make sure you cannot anymore."

"The Knight?"

He taps the third card. A figure in armor rides a horse across a desert plain, flames bursting from the tip of his spear, his cape flying behind him like he is already late for something important.

"The Knight of Wands," he says. "Fire of fire. Pure action, pure impulse, zero patience for hesitation. He does not plan. He does not wait for the right moment. He sees something he wants and he moves, and if you are standing in his way, you either keep up or get trampled."

You glance at the card. "He sounds exhausting."

"He is exhausting," Taehyun agrees, almost smiling. "But he is also the reason anything ever gets started. He thrives on chaos. On speed. On throwing himself into things he has no business being part of just because it feels right in the moment."

"In love," he continues, "he is charismatic and exciting and absolutely terrible at commitment. He loves the chase. The beginning. The part where everything is new and nothing has gone wrong yet. Whether he stays or burns out depends entirely on what he finds when he gets there."

You stare at the card. Flames, cape, a horse mid gallop. The thing looks like it is about to jump off the table.

"So you are telling me I am going to meet someone who will turn my life upside down and then maybe leave."

"I am telling you that someone is coming," he says, "and what happens after depends on whether you are someone worth staying for."

He moves to the fourth card. This one shows a figure standing on a balcony, a globe in one hand and a wand planted in the stone beside them, looking out at the ocean like they are deciding which direction to sail.

"The Two of Wands is about planning and potential, about standing at a crossroads where you have to pick a direction even though you cannot see where either path leads, so all you really have is a vague sense of what you want and the nerve to actually walk toward it instead of just standing there waiting for clarity that is never going to come." He glances up at you.

You look at the card. The figure looks calm, patient, like they have already made their decision and are just waiting for the right wind.

"In love," he continues, "this card means you know what you want. Not the details, maybe, but the shape of it. The feeling of it. You have spent a long time waiting for something to happen to you, and the Two of Wands is telling you to stop waiting and start choosing. Do you want a partner who matches your pace? Then stop accepting people who do not. You want someone who sees you? Then stop explaining yourself to people who are not listening."

He taps the card once. "This is not a card of fate dropping someone in your lap. This is a card of you finally admitting what you have always known and having the guts to go find it yourself."

You let that settle somewhere behind your ribs. The ones who came before– the boys who mistook your softness for weakness, who asked you to fold yourself into something quieter, something less demanding, something easier to hold. The ones who looked at your curiosity like a leak in the ship instead of the very thing that kept you afloat. The ones who never said it outright but made you feel, in a thousand small ways, that you were too much and not enough all at once.

He moves to the last card, his voice dropping lower now, almost reluctant, like he is handing you something fragile that he does not entirely trust you to hold. "The Ace of Cups."

You look at it– a golden chalice overflowing with water, five streams pouring from the rim, a dove descending from the clouds with a wafer in its beak, a lily pad blooming with white flowers beneath the cup like the whole world is softening around whatever is spilling out.

"This is the beginning of beginnings," he says, and there is something careful in his tone now, like he is treading on ground he did not mean to find.

"Not a small feeling. Not a crush that will burn out in three weeks. This is the card of overwhelming emotion, the kind that fills your chest before you can build a wall around it, the kind that spills out of you whether you are ready or not. Love, yes, but not just romantic. The Ace of Cups is joy, it is creativity, it is the sudden and devastating realization that you are exactly where you are supposed to be, doing exactly what you are supposed to be doing, with exactly who you are supposed to be with, and none of it was planned and none of it was safe and somehow that makes it better, not worse."

He looks up at you then and for a moment the booth falls away, the candles and the crowd and the string lights humming overhead all fading into nothing. His eyes hold yours, dark and steady, and you feel something shift in your chest that you cannot name.

"The Page brings the message," he says softly. "The Queen reminds you to trust yourself. The Knight drags you into motion. The Two gives you someone to move with. And the Ace–" he pauses, his thumb brushing the edge of the final card, "–the Ace is what happens when you finally stop pretending you do not want any of it."

You stare at the spread. Five cards. Five pieces of a future you did not ask for and cannot look away from.

"So you are telling me," you say slowly, "that someone is about to show up and ruin my carefully organized life, and I am going to enjoy every second of it."

His mouth twitches. "That is one interpretation."

"What are the others?"

"There are no others," he says, and he is almost smiling now, something bright and dangerous flickering behind his eyes. "That is the one the cards gave you."

You should walk away. You know you should walk away. But the candles are still burning and the cards are still spread across the table and he is looking at you like he already knows what you are going to do next.

"The donation box," he says, nodding toward the wooden cube. "The omens for love require more weight than work. Heavier prediction. So it needs more to balance it out."

"You are absolutely scamming me."

"You can call it whatever helps you sleep at night."

You pull out your wallet anyway.

As you stand to leave, you glance back at the wooden box one more time, something about it lingering in your head for reasons you cannot name, but you shake it off and start walking because it is late and the festival is still humming and you have better things to do than stare at a donation box from a tarot reading you barely believe in anyway.

Tyun is already gathering his cards, stacking them into a neat pile without looking at you. "Enjoy your night," he says, his voice lighter now, almost careless, like he has already moved on to the next customer who does not even exist yet.

Something in his tone makes you hesitate, a shift you cannot quite place, a note that does not fit the earnest stranger who just spent twenty minutes dissecting your future like he had been there the whole time.

You turn to look at him again but the shadows have already taken him, the lights just grazing his shoulders while his face stays hidden as the candles on either side burn down to nothing.

He does not look up again, so neither do you.

soobhanan

DO YOU WANT A HOUSE TOUR?

EP1: living room

♡ series masterlist

synopsis (continuation to drop dead, but can be read as a stand-alone fic) BABY, WHAT'S MINE IS NOW YOURS! .ೃ ⌂* in which your boyfriend flies to you after months of long distance, and what better way to have him familiarize himself with your apartment than to give him an in-depth house tour?

pairing choi soobin x (f) reader

genre fluff, smut, established relationship, long distance

warnings mdni. unprotected sex (please don't!), mentions of sexting, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), piv sex, sb cums inside reader (i have a creampie problem)

word count 3.07k

a/n was going to write this in one go but i figured it would be better to post this in installments! i shall make a series masterlist once i've written the next part, enjoy in the meantime, everybunny :3

You never thought home could be a person until you met Soobin.

The said man had taken the time and money to fly over to you after months of not seeing each other, and it took everything in you not to fully amalgamate yourself into his being upon seeing him on your doorstep. “I promised you I’d see you, baby,” he had chuckled in a fit of joyous giggles as you attacked him with pecks on the face hours prior. You replied in between the litter of kisses, “I know. I just didn’t expect you to go full on stalker mode and show up at my door.”

After snacking on the delicacies he had brought from his hometown, the two of you settled on the couch, his long legs tangled with yours as he had his equally lengthy arms around you. Soobin being Soobin, he brought his Nintendo Switch and plugged it into your television to show you the Tomodachi game in which the two of you got married in. Once he finished his extensive tour of his little virtual island, he invited you to play Mario Kart. You cursed Soobin and his affinity to any game– you were but a sore loser whenever he cheered about winning 1st place.

“I quit,” you frowned, setting the controller down. “I stand no chance against you and your fingers that have gone through over a decade of gaming.”

“I can do something else with these finge-”

bamyeong

dirty little secret ✮⋆˙

word count: 8-9k

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

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.

wensoobie

sweet escape // soobin

you + me, now wouldn't that be sweet?

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

part 1 of the rich girl series

wc: 5.5k

pairing: soobin x reader

author’s notes: i was torn between making this insane or cute so i went for a nice in between. as always, i'm in love with soobin.

tags/warnings: personal chef!soobin x heiress!reader, early 2000s rich girl vibe, kissing, slight sneaking around, highly suggestive/light sexual content so lowk MDNI, little closed door romance, mentions of drinking/partying,

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

The shrill ring of your cellphone is what pulls you from a dreamless sleep. You try to open your eyes, but immediately regret it. Sunlight pours through your bedroom windows, far too bright for this early in the morning. You silently curse yourself for forgetting to close the floor-length curtains before leaving last night.

Last night. Where did you even go again?

Oh, right. Serena had called, demanding an emergency girls' night after breaking up with her boyfriend—again. And being the supportive best friend that you were, you agreed without hesitation. The two of you spent the night hopping between clubs until your feet ached and your head spun. You barely remember making it home, let alone crawling into bed.

aweinkai

hello... so, uhm... i don't know... let me just drop this... TT

warnings: subvirgin!hk + fem!reader. unprotected sex (wrap it pls). one night stand. riding. dirty talk. bigdick!hk. mentions of masturbation. corruption. choking (m rec).

bamyeong

touch ups : again? ♡

pairings: idol!beomgyu x makeup artist!reader (f)

wordcount: 5-6k

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.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

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.

fuuteam

SingleDad!Taehyun Headcanons

Content: fluff, sfw, Taehyun x Reader, parenting mention (?), in my eyes he's a dilf idc

SingleDad!Taehyun Who loves his daughter more than anything

SingleDad!Taehyun Who will take his daughter to the cafe you work at to get her fresh cookies.

SingleDad!Taehyun Who thinks you are so beautiful but assumes you wouldn't be interested since he has a child.

bamyeong

steady confessions ୨ৎ

word count: 10-12k (?)

pairing: dr. choi beomgyu (neurology) x dr. reader (cardiology)

warnings/tags: doctor au, medical au, neurology x cardiology, hospital, enemies to lovers, fluff with smut, slow burn, workplace romance, neurosurgeon beomgyu, cardiologist reader, soft dom!beomgyu, established relationship, explicit, use of the petname ‘baby’

synopsis: you're the youngest doctor at the hospital, and you've worked hard for it. no patience for pretty brained surgeons who think they own the place. dr. choi beomgyu is exactly that. wonderful, annoying, with hands that can save lives at three in the morning but apparently can't stop stealing your coffee almost all the time.

─── ୨୧ ───

you've been fighting for two years. trading insults in hallways, pretending you don't notice how his scrubs fit or how he bites his lip like it hurts when he's reading your charts.

but when a bad night brings you together, things change because beomgyu doesn't want to fight with you anymore. he wants to know why you drink black coffee, why you have ink on your hands all the time, and why your heart beats fast when he's close.

and you? you're starting to wonder if his hands are really as skilled in bed as they are in surgery.

─── ୨୧ ───

the first time you meet dr. choi beomgyu, he's inside someone's head and you're trying to keep a patient alive.

not you personally. the patient. a kid on a motorcycle who hit a wall quite hard. you'd been called from your afternoon appointments to get to the trauma room. you arrived to find chaos.

"where's the brain doctor?" you snapped at the nurse, already gloved up.

"in surgery," she called back. "car accident, head injury, they took him up twenty minutes ago."

"and the other brain doctor?"

"stuck in another surgery. we've got the trainee covering, but..."

but. there was always a but in trauma case. you checked the patient yourself, confirmed the tear in his heart, stabilized him enough for the scan, then walked up to the surgery floor because if you were going to fix this kid's heart, you needed to know what his brain was doing first.

that's when you walked into the operating room without knocking, and found him.

he was young. younger than you expected for a brain surgeon with his reputation. top of his class, trained overseas, recruited back to build their strict program. you'd heard the gossip in the break room, the way the nurses sighed, the way even the tough emergency doctors spoke about him with respect.

he was also, unfortunately, gorgeous.

not in a soft way. in a sharp, and dangerous way. dark hair under his cap, focused doe eyes above his mask, long fingers working with a gentleness that seemed impossible given what he was doing. he was doing brain surgery, you realized, relieving pressure with movements so perfect they looked practiced a thousand times.

"pressure's dropping," the anesthesiologist said.

"give me two more minutes," beomgyu murmured, not looking up. his voice was lower than you expected, warm even through the mask. "i need to get this last clot."

you should have left. you should have waited outside, checked the board, found the trainee. instead, you stood there, frozen in the doorway, watching his hands move. steady, unshakeable, confident in a way that made something low in your stomach tighten immediately.

he finished, finally, stepped back, and only then did he look up. his eyes found yours immediately. dark, smart, stripping you bare.

"can i help you?" he asked, and there was something almost amused in his tone, like he knew exactly who you were.

"dr. choi," you said, and your voice came out steadier than you felt. "i'm dr. y/n, heart specialist. i need to know your patient's brain status before i fix his heart. if he's not going to wake up, i need to know now."

something flickered in his expression. surprise, maybe, or interest. he pulled down his mask, revealing a mouth that was unfairly shaped, soft lower lip and sharp teeth that showed when he smiled.

"dr. y/n," he repeated, like he was tasting your name. "the wonder kid from cardiology. i've heard about you."

"and i've heard about you," you replied. "the whole hospital has. something about a terribly handsome man and stealing people's coffee."

the nurses went very still. the anesthesiologist looked like she was trying to disappear.

but beomgyu laughed. it was a startled sound, and it changed his whole face from cold to something warm and approachable, being much more dangerous.

"i only steal the espresso," he corrected, pulling off his gloves. "and only when it's been sitting there for more than ten minutes. when it’s been abandoned."

"is that what they really teach these days? theft 101?"

"advanced theft, actually. with a minor in not taking shit from heart doctors who barge into my operating room." he stepped closer, and you realized with a jolt that he was tall, taller than you, which was rare, and he was using it to crowd your space in a way that should have been rude but instead felt like a difficult challenge. "my patient will wake up. brain activity is good, pupils responsive, and no brain death signs. i'll have him stable within the hour. does that meet your standards, dr. y/n?"

“yes.” you responded.

you turned and walked out then, spine straight, with your heart pounding against your ribs in a way that had nothing to do with caffeine and everything to do with the way he looked at you.

that was two years ago.

now, standing in the break room at 6:47 in the morning on a tuesday, staring at the empty coffee pot where your coffee should be.

"looking for something?"

you don't turn around. you know that voice now. you know it in your sleep, unfortunately, you know the way it drops when he's tired, you know the way it sharpens when he's about to say something seriously cutting.

"my coffee," you say, keeping your eyes on the empty machine. "which someone drank. all of it. again."

"how tragic," beomgyu says, and you hear him moving behind you, the sound of his shoes on the floor. he's close now. "you know, there's a solution to this."

“enlighten me, doctor."

"make your own coffee. or…just throwing this out there, learn to share."

you turn then, and he's right there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, he looks tired. dark circles under his eyes, because he's been practically living at the hospital. there was a burst blood vessel last night, you heard. emergency surgery at two in the morning.

"you look like hell," you tell him.

"you look like someone who needs caffeine," he returns, and then he's reaching past you, into your personal space, brushing your shoulder with his arm, then retrieving a thermos from behind the microwave. he holds it out. "here. i made extra."

you stare at it. then you stare at him.

"what's the catch?"

"no catch. i'm being nice."

"you're never nice."

"i'm nice sometimes." he shakes the thermos, and you can hear the liquid inside. “no sugar. i've noticed you don't take sugar. probably because you're already sweet enough."

"that's disgusting," you say, but you're taking the thermos from his hand anyway. "was that a line? did you just try to flirt with me using coffee?"

"did it work?"

you unscrew the lid, then take a sip. it's perfect. exactly how you take it, exactly the right temperature, and the fact that he knows this, that he's memorized all of this without you even realizing, makes something flutter in your chest that you blatantly ignore.

"it was mediocre at best," you lie.

beomgyu smiles, slow and knowing. "you're a terrible liar, dr. y/n. has anyone ever told you that?"

"has anyone ever told you that you have boundary issues?"

"daily. usually by you." he pushes off the counter, and for a second you think he's going to leave, but instead he shifts, trapping you between the counter and his body in a way that should feel threatening but instead feels warm. "i have a consult in twenty minutes. patient with heart problems after brain bleeding. large bleed in the head, heart enzymes through the roof, and heart function down to thirty percent. your department's already involved, but i wanted to give you a heads up personally."

this is how it is with him. professionalism wrapped in closeness. you've learned to separate the doctor from the man, but some days the line blurs more than others.

he's looking at your mouth now, which you realize immediately, and you should move before it becomes something else, but you don't. you never do. "dinner," he says suddenly.

"what?"

"dinner. tonight. after rounds? there's a soup place near hongdae that stays open late, and i'm starving, and so are you. i'm tired of eating alone in the break room while you glare at me from across the table."

"that's not..."

"it is.” he glare. it's very intimidating.

you should say no. you've been saying no for two years, or at least you've been saying not yet, not now, not while we're colleagues. but his eyes are soft underneath all the annoying teasing, and you can see the exhaustion there, the loneliness that comes with being good at something that requires everything from you.

"just dinner," you say, and you're not sure if you're warning him or yourself.

beomgyu's smile this time is different. more real, something that reaches his eyes and stays there.

"just dinner," he agrees. "i'll meet you at the south entrance. 8:30. don't stand me up, dr. y/n. i have a fragile ego."

"you'll live," you say, but you're smiling too, and he sees it, and his expression shifts into something that looks a lot like hope.

he leaves then, finally, and you stand alone in the lounge with your coffee and your racing heart and the feeling that you've just crossed a line you can't uncross now.

─── ୨୧ ───

the patient is a disaster.

not the brain part. beomgyu fixed the bleeding by 10:00 in the morning. you spend six hours in the intensive care unit adjusting medications, watching the heart images closely.

you consider canceling. you're exhausted, covered in sweat, and your hair falling out of its tie. but when you check your phone, there's a text from an unknown number. "south entrance. i'll be the one in the leather jacket looking pathetic. don't worry, i showered. -b" and something in your chest loosens.

you change quickly, washing the hospital smell from your skin and changing into the spare clothes you keep in your locker. you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and wince. you look like what you are. a doctor who's been awake for twenty hours, pale and bruised under the eyes, too thin because you keep forgetting to eat.

but beomgyu has seen you worse. beomgyu has seen you at three in the morning with blood on your scrubs and tears in your eyes because you lost a patient. he has seen you furious, you grieving, you competent and cruel. this tired woman is probably the most honest version of yourself you've ever shown to someone.

the south entrance is quiet at night, just the glow of the emergency lights and the occasional taxis passing. you see him before he sees you. leaning against the wall, he's on his phone.

then he looks up, and sees you and that smile that spreads across his face is so open, so relieved.

"you came," he says, pushing off the wall.

"you invited me."

"i invite you a lot. you usually find reasons to be busy." he falls into step beside you, and you're walking now, away from the hospital, into the night air that smells like rain. "how's our patient?"

"stable. for now. we'll need to watch her for the next two days. rebleed risk, blood vessel spasms. but her heart's recovering."

"because of you."

"because of medicine," you correct, but you're pleased despite yourself. "your surgery was clean. no leftover problems. she'll wake up if the brain lets her."

"that's the trick, isn't it?" beomgyu says, and there's something sad in his tone. "we fix what we can reach. the rest is just... waiting and hoping."

"you did everything right," you tell him, because you know that's not what he's saying but it's what he needs to hear. "the bleeding was unstoppable when she came in. she would have died without you."

"i know," he says, and it's not arrogant, just factual. "but knowing doesn't always help. at 3:00 in the morning, when you're staring at the ceiling in the on-call room, knowing doesn't make it easier."

you understand. you've been there.

the soup place is small, warm and steamy and smelling of broth and kimchi. beomgyu seems to know the owner. an older woman who smiles at him with real affection and leads you to a corner booth without asking for an order.

"he comes here after every big surgery," she tells you, patting your hand. "first time he brings someone. you must be special.”

"colleague," you say quickly.

"mm," she says, clearly not believing you, and bustles away.

"she likes you," beomgyu says, sliding into the booth across from you. the table is small, your knees brushing under it, and you don't pull away.

"she likes you. not me."

"no y/n." he's looking at you seriously now, all the teasing gone. "

the way he says your name. y/n, not dr. y/n, not the formal distance you've maintained for two years. it makes your breath catch. you've heard him say it before, in passing, in anger, but never like this. never like it's something precious.

"beomgyu," you start, not sure what you're going to say.

but then the food arrives. seafood soup for you, kimchi soup for him, rice and side dishes that give you time to compose yourself. you're starving, you realize, and you eat with the single-minded focus of someone who's learned to take food when it's available because you never know when the next emergency will pull you away.

beomgyu watches you eat with something like fascination. "you're the only woman i know who eats like she's performing surgery."

"precision is important."

"is that why you became a heart doctor? the precision of it?"

you pause, chopsticks halfway to your mouth. no one's ever asked you that. not directly, not caring about the answer. they ask about the money and the challenge. they don't ask about the why.

"i like rhythms," you say finally. "the heart has a rhythm. even when it's broken, even when it's failing, there's a pattern to it. you just have to learn to read it. brain work is... messier. electrical storms, chemical imbalances. the heart is mechanical. honest."

"and the brain is dishonest?"

"the brain lies. it tells you you're fine when you're bleeding out. it hides things. bleeding, tumors, memories. the heart just... beats. until it doesn't."

beomgyu is quiet for a moment, stirring his soup. "i think that's why we work," he says finally.

"what?"

"heart and brain. they're connected, you know. physically, through nerves. but also... metaphorically. you need both. the steady rhythm and the electrical spark." he looks up at you, and his eyes are dark, intense. "i think you're my rhythm, y/n. and maybe i might be your spark."

you stare at him, and you feel something shift in your chest. something that feels like the moment before a storm breaks.

"you're ridiculous," you say, but your voice is soft.

"probably. but i'm also right." he reaches across the table, and his hand finds yours, his fingers threading through your fingers with a confidence that makes you want to both pull away and lean in. "two years, y/n. two years of fighting with you, of wanting you, of telling myself that colleagues shouldn't, that we're too busy, too tired, too broken by this job to be good for each other."

"and now?"

"now i'm tired of waiting. i'm tired of pretending that what i feel when i see you is professional respect. it's not. it's... you're the first thing i think about when i wake up. not my cases. not my patients. you. the way you looked at me in that operating room, like you wanted to fight me and kiss me at the same time. i've been chasing that feeling for two years now."

your heart is beating now. his thumb is tracing circles on your palm, the way he's looking at you like you're the only thing in the world that matters.

"i don't do this," you whisper. "i don't date colleagues..."

beomgyu interrupts gently. "but you're allowed to have more. you're allowed to have this… to have me."

you should say no. you should pull your hand away. instead, you tighten your grip on his hand and say, "okay."

beomgyu's smile lit up immediately.

─── ୨୧ ───

the first time he kisses you, it's in the doctors' parking garage at 1:00 in the morning, three weeks after the dinner that changed everything.

you've been dating, if you can call it that. stealing moments in supply closets, trading texts that start with patient updates and end with "i miss you" and "when can i see you?”.

you've learned that he's gentle, underneath the arrogance. that he cries sometimes after bad outcomes, where no one can see him. that he's terrified of spiders and allergic to shellfish and that he became a brain surgeon because his grandmother died of a stroke when he was twelve and he couldn't understand why the doctors couldn't fix her.

you've learned that when he looks at you, he sees you. just you. the person who laughs at his terrible jokes, who brings him coffee when he's been in surgery for ten hours, who understands what it's like to hold a life in your hands and wonder if you're worthy enough.

tonight was hard. you'd called it at 12:47, and then you'd walked out of the trauma room and straight into beomgyu, who was somehow already there, already knowing and already reaching out for you.

he didn't say anything. he just took your hand and led you to the parking garage to his car, and he leaned against the hood and pulled you into his arms.

"i'm sorry," he whispered into your hair.

"i did everything right. everything. and i still..."

"i know." his hands were rubbing circles on your back, steady and warm. "i know, baby. i know."

you'd cried, ugly, loud and desperate, into his shoulder, and he'd held you through it, murmuring nonsense. pressing kisses to your temple, your forehead, anywhere he could reach.

and then you'd looked up, and he'd looked down, and the space between you had narrowed to nothing.

his mouth was soft. that was the first thing you noticed. how soft and careful he was, like he was worried you might break completely. the kiss was gentle and questioning. you made a sound against his lips, needy and embarrassing, and he responded by deepening the angle more, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, with his thumb stroking your cheekbone.

you could feel his heart beating against your chest.

when you finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "i've wanted to do that for two years."

"show off," you managed, and he laughed,

"i'm going to take you home," he said, and his voice was rough, wrecked. "and i'm going to pretend that i don't want to kiss you again. but i will. i want to kiss you everywhere. i want to learn every part of you."

your breath hitched. "beomgyu..."

"just let me take care of you tonight," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your jaw, then your throat, right where your pulse felt like it was going to pop out. "let me be good to you."

you nodded, unable to speak and he kissed you again, harder this time, with a slight edge of hunger that hadn't been there before. his hands moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel him. hard and hot against your hip and the knowledge that you did that. it made you dizzy.

"your place," you managed between kisses. "now."

he didn't need to be told twice.

─── ୨୧ ───

his apartment was small, cluttered with medical journals and coffee mugs. he led you to his room where a nice, polished bathroom was connected to. "shower first," he said, already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a torso that was lean and softly defined. "you're shaking."

you hadn't noticed, but you were. the adrenaline was kicking you hard.

he drew you into the bathroom, started the water, and then slowly, and carefully began undressing you. his fingers were steady as they pulled your sweater up and pulled down your jeans. he unhooked your bra and stared carefully. "beautiful," he whispered, looking at you in the harsh bathroom light without a trace of self consciousness. "you're so beautiful, y/n."

"you're not so bad yourself," you said, and your voice was husky.

he smiled and stepped into the shower, pulling you in after him. the water was warm. he immediately reached for the soap, lathering his hands and running them over your shoulders, your back, down your sides. he washed you with a thoroughness that was half intimate, his fingers lingering in places that made you gasp at some moments.

when he reached your breasts, you moaned, head falling back against the tile. he made a soft sound that was almost pained, and his thumbs brushed over your chest.

"beomgyu," you whispered.

"let me," he murmured, leaning in to kiss your neck, your collarbone. "let me touch you. i've thought about this so many times… i thought about having you in my hands and making you feel good."

his hand drifted lower over your stomach, and you parted your legs without being asked. needy and desperate in a way you'd never been with anyone else before. his fingers found you, sliding through your folds with confidence that made you cry out, and then he was circling your clit precision.

"steady baby," he whispered, arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up. "i've got you. let go, baby. i've got you."

he worked you with his fingers, one hand holding you carefully while the other drove you higher and higher. he knew exactly how to make you feel relieved and you realized with a dizzying rush that this was what it meant to be with a man who made his living with his hands.

when you came, it was with his name on your lips, your body shaking against his and your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. he held you through it, kissing your neck, your face, whispering praise that made you blush easily.

"that was just the beginning," he said, and there was a promise in his voice that made you shiver.

he turned off the water, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to the bed.

he dried himself quickly, then climbed onto the bed, settling between your legs. he kissed you again and you could taste yourself on his tongue, which somehow made you even more turned on. his hands were everywhere, learning your body, and mapping the places that made you moan and squirm and beg.

"please," you whispered, arching up into him. "beomgyu, please."

"what do you want?" he asked, voice rough. "tell me. i want to hear you say it."

"i want you inside me," you said, and the words felt filthy but right. "i want you to fuck me. please."

he groaned, the sound torn from his chest, and reached for the bedside drawer. he pulled out a condom, rolled it on with practiced ease, and then he was there, hard against your entrance. he entered you slowly, so slowly you thought you might die from it. inch by inch until he was fully inside, filling you in a way that made your eyes roll back. he paused, breathing heavily.

"you okay?" he asked. the concern in his voice was clear as day.

"more than okay," you whispered. "move, beomgyu. please."

he started slow, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in, setting a rhythm that was in its control. but you didn't want control. you wanted him wild and free, wanted him as undone as you felt.

"faster," you demanded, digging your heels into his lower back. "harder. i won't break."

he groaned, and then he was moving, really moving. "you feel so good," he panted, his thrusts becoming rough, losing their precision as his own pleasure overwhelmed him. "so tight, so perfect…fuck, y/n, i've dreamed about this."

"me too," you admitted, and it was true. you'd touched yourself to thoughts of him, memories of his hands, mouth, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him the most. "baby, i'm close. don't stop. please don't stop."

he reached between you, found your clit with his thumb, and that was it. you came apart, crying out his name. he followed you over the edge, burying his face in your neck and groaning as he spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering through his release.

for a long moment, neither of you have moved. he stayed inside you, breathing hard against your skin and you ran your fingers through his hair, holding him close.

"i love you," he whispered, so quiet you almost missed it. "i know it's fast and i know it's crazy, but i love you. i've loved you for so long.

you felt tears prick your eyes, happy and overwhelmed. "i love you too," you said.

he pulled back then, smiling that soft, real smile that was just for you. he kissed you. "stay with me tonight. and tomorrow. and the next day. stay with me as long as you'll have me."

"that might be forever," you warned.

"good," he said. "that's exactly what i was hoping for."

─── ୨୧ ───

the first time you have sex in the hospital, it's six months later, and it's completely his fault.

you'd been dating openly by then, the hospital gossiped, of course, but you didn't care. you were happy and beomgyu was somehow even more insufferable now that he had you, constantly touching you, kissing you, bringing you coffee and lunch and little gifts he picked up on his way to work.

you'd just finished a difficult case, a heart surgery that had gone longer than expected, and you were exhausted and hungry and in desperate need of a shower. you stumbled into the on-call room, intending to nap for an hour before your next shift, and found beomgyu already there, sat on the couch, reading a journal.

"hey," he said, looking up with a smile that made your heart skip. "tough case?"

"the worst," you groaned, flopping down beside him. "four hours of trying to fix a valve that didn't want to be fixed."

"come here," he said, setting the journal aside and opening his arms.

you crawled into his embrace, burying your face in his neck, and he held you, one hand stroking your back, the other playing with your hair. you relaxed into him, feeling safe and loved.

"you're amazing," he murmured against your hair. "you know that? the way you work, the way you care. you're incredible."

"you're just saying that because you want something," you teased, but you were smiling.

"i always want something," he admitted, and there was a new tone in his voice, lower, hungrier. his hand moved from your hair to your jaw, tilting your face up to his. "i want you. right here. right now."

"beomgyu," you protested weakly, even as your body responded to his suggestion. "we're at work. someone could walk in."

"the door locks," he said, and then he was kissing you, deep and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth that made you moan. his hands moved to your waist, pulling you on top of him, and you could feel him, hard and ready beneath you.

"you planned this," you accused, grinding down against him.

"maybe," he admitted, grinning against your lips. "or maybe i just can't be near you without wanting you. maybe you drive me crazy just by existing."

he placed you on his lap and his hands were everywhere, pulling at your scrub top, palming your breasts through your bra, you arched into his touch, already forgetting why this was a bad idea, already desperate for more.

he pulled your pants down, your underwear with them, and then his fingers were in you, curling to find that spot that made you see stars. you bit down on his shoulder to muffle your moan, and he hissed, the sound equal parts pain and pleasure.

"need you," you whispered. "beomgyu, i need you inside me."

he didn't hesitate. he reached for his wallet, pulled out a condom, and rolled it on with shaking hands. then he was guiding himself into you, filling you in one smooth thrust that made your back arch.

"quiet," he reminded you, his voice strained. "you have to be quiet, baby. can you do that?"

you nodded, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood, and he started to move. it was fast and dirty, nothing like the careful lovemaking at his apartment. this was need. two people who wanted each other too much to wait.

he fucked you hard, harder than you could’ve ever imagined. he groaned as you continued to ride his lap.

"so good," he panted. "always so good for me. my girl."

"only yours," you agreed, and you were. completely, irrevocably his.

after, as he holds your waist while you rest your head on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath, he pressed kisses to your shoulder and your collarbone.

"i'm going to marry you someday," he said, casual and certain.

"is that a proposal?" you asked, smiling.

"no," he said. "that's a promise for when i propose, you'll know it. i'm going to do it right, but i'm telling you now, so you can start getting used to the idea. you're the one for me y/n.”

you kissed him then, and you knew, with a certainty that you would say yes. that you would spend your life with this man.

"love you," you whispered.

"love you more," he returned, and then he was kissing you again, forgetting that you both were still at work.

a/n: a request for anon! i was supposed to have this uploaded yesterday, but i kept proofreading due to being a nervous wreck because of the hospital terms i had to include that i am not that familiar with. i hope this is alright T-T. i apologize for any grammatical errors that i might’ve missed out on!

anglholic

MOFOMGGG NO MORE TAEGYU DROUGHT YES WE SURVIVED OMGOMG STHIS IS WORTH CRYING OVER, WE HAVE FINALLY BEEN FED. (╥ᆺ╥；)

666chevy

MY GIRL IS BAAACCK 🥹🥰😍🤪

angelhees

꒰ ꒱ྀི taehyun gifs

⠀ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 ⠀⠀⠀⠀like / reblog to use 🪽 ⠀ 𐂯 ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ◝ ⠀

ꔫ ⠀⠀⠀

yeonjune

beomgyu with cute little puppies 🐶❤️🐶

imjustaseacat

20cm

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ Childhood friend! Soobin x reader

When an almost-confession gets interrupted, what's the best way to handle it? To talk it out of course..not. But as the spring formal nears and love seems to bloom out of every corner, concealing feelings that have been brewing since you were seven have started to become harder to ignore. Maybe it was time to let them grow - or maybe they have always been growing and it's about time you saw the first petals.

warnings: angst with payoff, fluff, midnight confession, Soobin being stupid and clumsy climbing up your window, they both yearn for each other, two emotionally constipated people who feel too much

wc: 8k+

-> disclaimer : english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes..

part two of 20cm

part one

May 2017

pageraf

Because this is where I want to be

It was supposed to mean nothing. It was supposed to be just a tutoring session. He was supposed to be a tutor, nothing more. You weren't supposed to have sex and you weren't supposed to like it. But what you definitely wasn't supposed to do was fall for him. But it happened and you have no regrets, he on the other hand, ever since that night, was avoiding you like the plague.

⚠: MDNI, college!au, nerd!Soobin, strangers to lovers, explicit sexual content, porn with some plot, miscommunication, soft confessions, pinning, awkward Soobin but we love him, Soobin is down bad but stupid, dom!reader, sub!Soobin, virgin!Soobin, slight masochist kink (what's new), unprotected sex (wrap it up people), creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryfilia, don't know if I forget smth!

Author's note: the semester might be folding me but I'm always here to serve ;)

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