when ateez s/o accidentally send a suggestive text to a member.
-> hyung line ->maknae line
Ateez when you tell them you’re on your period.
-> hyung line -> maknae line
Txt:
Yeonjun:coming soon
Soobin:coming soon
Beomgyu: coming soon
Taehyun: coming soon
Kai: coming soon
Ot5: coming soon
since I’m really new to all of this, this is all the work I have done so far.please look forward to more series in the future!! Thank you so much for the support!!
when ateez s/o accidentally send a suggestive text to a member.
->hyung line
warning:suggestive text
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
San:
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
mingi:
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
wooyoung:
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
Jongho:
✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧
andddd heres the maknae line hehehe:) this was so fun to make!! i enjoyed this. sorry if it’s not the best🥲 i decided to try out a new app and I’m liking this one better (*^‿^*) anyways like my other post please feel free to send me any suggestions on what i should make more(•̀ᴗ•́)و
Thank you @threepointstogryffindor for this request I hope you enjoy this and the hyung line one😆
Please look forward for a new series that will be coming out soon ☺️!!
when ateez s/o accidentally send a suggestive text to a member.
this was a request from this so here is the hyung line😙
->maknae line
warning: suggestive text
hongjoong:
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
seonghwa:
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯ yunho:
✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯
yeosang:
hi hi! Sorry this took me a week(╥_╥) I lowkey was busy also sorry if this sucks🥲but I had the time to make these(•̀ᴗ•́)و some may be the same kind of text..because I lowkey ran out of ideas (o_O),but I hope you enjoyed this !! Thank you @threepointstogryffindor for requesting an idea ☺️ maknae line will be up as soon as this one gets posted (￣▽￣) !!
please look forward to a series that will be coming out soon(*^‿^*)!!
So I read your ateez's fake texts and you asked for suggestions
So I was wondering if you do something like their s/o accidentally sends a suggestive text to other member.
(i just want to read something funny....lol)
hiii!! Of course I can🥹! give me a few days (or hours hehe)😌 please request anything, anytime :) I find these really fun to make😚 I’m also thinking of making a series with these type of things(with fake tweets) is that something your also interested in👀? if at least a few people are interested, I’ll definitely make a series. I don’t want to make a fake text/tweet series if nobody is interested:( but thank you for your request I’ll be tagging you when I’m done😚🫶🏼!!
Ateez when you tell them you’re on your period pt2
maknae line
gen: fluff, a little suggestive with woo hehe
->hyung line
San
Mingi
Wooyoung
Jongho
hi guys!! heres the other part🫡 these are so fun to make LOL!! I’m definitely going to make a series out of these fake text messages,and fake tweets!! please send me any requests on what i should make next:)
Hi guys! Sorry for going ghost. I decided to start making fake text messages with ateez, I’m also on my period so I felt like making this ,but I’m definitely going to make more of these with different groups :) Since lately I’ve been reading these type of fanfics, I wanted to make some :) So please send me any requests:)would anyone be interested in a series of these type of fanfics with fake tweets? 👀👀 Also, about the other series I have up, I’ll be taking a break from those. I’m sorry to everyone that has been waiting for an update for those and for everyone who had to see what went down. But please enjoy this! Reblogs and likes are appreciated!!
Sucking on yuyu's fingers while he fucks you quick and hard because he has a make up crew waiting for him just outside the door!!
OH GOODNESS the way his hips would smack against yours but he has to try and muffle the sound?? sighhh
ᢉ𐭩 ( jyh ) fem reader nsfw / swearing, established relationship, fingers/hands (all that good stuff), public sex (?), dirty talk, unprotected sex!
yunho had your thighs wrapped around his waist, hips moving faster than either of you could think. his cock plunged deep into your walls, hard and quick.
“mmph— yun—“ your whines came out muffled as drool dribbled down your chin and around his fingers. he groans into your neck before there’s another knock on the dressing room door.
“yunho? are you ready?” the stylist asked softly, not even realizing what was occurring on the other side of that door.
he stifles a moan, “j-just a minute!”
your lips wrap around his thick fingers as you continue to suck on them, trying your best to swallow back your moans.
yunho looked down to where his hips met yours—your clit swollen and puffy from how hard he was thrusting. your arousal dripped down him and onto the couch.
he groaned deep in his chest, low and quiet. “such a good pussy, baby. you like being fucked like this? my fingers in your mouth?”
you nodded your head quickly, too afraid to speak.
his other hand came to grip your hip, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise there. he pulled your hips against his, fucking into you harder.
you gasped, throwing your head back in pleasure. “oh f-fuck—“
his fingers slipped from your lips, now wrapped around your chin as he made you look at him once more.
“yeah?” he smirked. “gonna cum with the crew right outside? probably listening to those pretty moans?”
that only pushed you closer to the edge, your pussy clenching around him as he teased you. he shuddered, his head dropping against your shoulder again.
“we’ll be waiting when you’re ready, yunho.” the stylist spoke again suddenly. “are you okay?”
“f-fine!” he stuttered out. “i’m fine.”
you clenched around him again—purposely—feeling his hips stutter.
“oh, you little—“ he huffed out a laugh before grunting into your skin, his length reaching deeper as he continued thrusting.
˶ˊᜊˋ˶ : hoped you liked this ! ^^ tried my best to tailor it to your request
i love love love this concept (still a very short one, though), so here is a translation for everyone :p
warnings: otaku!soob + fem!reader + roomie!gyu. implied threesome. voyeurism. dirty talk. degration. nothing much, just beomgyu being an asshole. and oh, dressing up as bunny girl senpai!
"Babe, I am coming out now!"
You loudly announced from the bathroom. To be honest, it's been a while since you've been here. Silently checking yourself out in front of a mirror wearing a costume that your boyfriend gave you as a gift.
It is a black strapless bodysuit that hugs your curves in the most perfect ways. It also came with fluffy bunny ears, a cottontail, and a black bowtie. The box he handed also had white cuffs inside, leaving you confused with no instructions on how to wear them properly.
Your gaze went down on the black fishnets you are wearing, then to the high heels resting on the counter that will be the cherry on top of your outfit.
Staring at your reflection, you look like a Japanese hypocrite. Just like that Bunny Girl Senpai that Soobin loves to watch with his friends. All you need is a wig and you could bring the character to life.
With a heavy sigh, you gave yourself a last glance in the mirror. This is all for your boyfriend, no one else will see you like this aside from him. Moreover, this is somewhat your gift for him, and for yourself for graduating college on time. It is good that you get to experience these things before the hellhole of adulthood suck you up both.
Another sharp inhale left you before you unlocked the door. You saw your boyfriend walking back and forth beside the bed, even biting his nails in nervousness.
"Soobie..." You softly called him, now turning his attention to you. His flustered reaction immediately sent a warm feeling to your core. Soobin looks like he forgot how to breathe in the sight of you cosplaying one of his favorite characters. Gently making your way towards him just to check if he is still functioning.
"Hey... Do you not like it?" The short fabric kept rising on your thighs, and your hand instinctively pulled it down as you spoke. His amused eyes roam over your body, and you can earnestly feel it with the tingling sensation it gives in your insides.
"Uh..." His lips began trembling, causing you to sheepishly giggle. You held his cold hand before placing it on your waist.
"Don't I look pretty?" Soobin's eyes are almost brimming with tears, wholly vulnerable and pretty in front of you. His hold on your waist grew tighter, before he shook his head to disagree. The heavy burden in your chest subsides, especially with how your boyfriend couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from your figure. It was very evident how hungry he is, with his body radiating an irresistible heat. Soobin looks like he is ready to tore you outfit all the way down until he can fuck you bare naked.
"No? But you won't even kiss me..."
His breath went heavier with your nuances, even shuddering under your grasp. A low whine left him when you wrapped your arms around his neck, restricting him from breathing evenly.
Soobin anxiously gulped before cupping your cheek, which put a sweet smile on your lips. You tiptoed up to him, leaning yourself to close the distance between you.
But to your dismay...
"Bro, can I borrow a char...ger..."
You instantly let go of his nape at the sudden interruption, even hiding yourself behind your boyfriend's broad back. What the fuck. Does his roommate not know how to knock? Why is he still here in the first place?! Didn't Soobin say that they all went home after the graduation ceremony?!
Mind in a daze, you could not fathom how your stomach churns in embarrassment. Utterly unable to think straight with the fact that what was made for your boyfriend's eyes has reached his roommate slash best friend, Beomgyu.
Even Soobin was stunned in his position, shocked pupils darted to his roommate who was not accustomed to the word knocking. Your sight is blocked by Soobin's back, unaware of what is happening. Until the next thing you heard was the door shutting close and the lock being twisted.
"And, your pet as well."
The beat of your heart went faster with what you just heard. You could feel your knees wobble when the realization hits you—you are locked in a room with your boyfriend and his obnoxious friend wearing a stupid costume out of a cartoon. As a cry for help, you clutched Soobin's shirt, and he tentatively enveloped his hand into your fist before facing you. His eyes are unreadable, but one thing is surely clear to you; there is no taint of fright or even anger in them.
"I'll... I'll let him have you first, yeah?"
What?!
Your stomach dropped at his sentence, heartbeat extremely rapid in your chest. Soobin didn't even let you reply when he offered your hand to his friend—who is now smiling like he won the lotto.
Beomgyu placed his hand on your shoulder, leaving goosebumps on your body. Your eyes stayed on Soobin, feeling betrayed and confused by how he could just sit there, completely unbothered by all of this. The man near you harshly cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, which almost made you moan.
"First of all," He starts, disgust evident in his stare at what you are wearing, "You don't know your boyfriend well enough to not know that he is a fucking porn addict." Beomgyu huffed at you, adding more flame to your burning core.
"So, don't worry much. Your boyfriend will cum in his pants by just watching all the things I would do to you."
He added, an irritating smirk remains on his lips. You want to look at Soobin, to ask and confirm what his best friend has said but Beomgyu has his grip tight on your chin.
"For another," He whispered in your ear, plump lips nearly touching your skin, "I hate picky bitches."
You can feel your own body betraying you. Because even if Beomgyu degrades you and the situation doesn't sit right within your morals, you could still feel the uncomfortable slick between your legs. It is making you more agitated since you are not wearing any panties under the tight bodysuit, causing you to feel the very wetness of your pussy.
"Do you get me?"
Beomgyu hissed directly in your ear, earning a soft whine from your throat. You don't know where your decision to nod at his question will lead you, but one thing is certain—your pussy is about to be roughly pounded by your boyfriend and his asshole roommate.
pairing : childhood best friend! yunho x fem! reader
synopsis : You reunite with someone who once meant everything to you, only to find he doesn’t remember you. As you struggle to let go, he begins to feel that something important is missing. Instead of chasing the past, you both choose to start again—this time by choice, not memory.
author’s note : i think i slaughtered part 2 bc i was reading through it and it feels so off but i hope its ok to yall 🙏 pls forgive me for not being online and posting bc i just started sch and they’re alr throwing assignments at me on my first day 😤
word count : 3k
part 1
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You don’t expect him to come back.
That’s the whole point of letting go, isn’t it?
You delete the chat. A quiet press and hold, a small confirmation box, a softer kind of ending than the one in your chest.
You don’t block him. You don’t need to.
You tell yourself it’s because you trust yourself not to go back.
It’s not. It’s because some part of you still wants a door to exist.
Even if you never open it.
Days pass. Then a week.
Then almost two.
And it starts to feel real.
Not easier—not really—but quieter. The ache dulls into something you can carry without it spilling everywhere.
You go back to your routines. You stop checking your phone as much. You stop expecting his name to appear where it shouldn’t.
You almost believe you’re okay.
And then—
Your phone buzzes.
You don’t think anything of it at first. Just another notification, another message from someone else, another small interruption in a day that’s finally starting to feel steady again.
Until you look.
Unknown number.
Your heart stutters. You already know.
You shouldn’t.
You really, really shouldn’t—
But your fingers move anyway.
Unknown:hey… it’s me
Your chest tightens instantly.
Of course it is. Of course he didn’t disappear quietly. Of course he came back just when things started to settle.
You stare at the message for a long time.
Long enough that the screen dims. Long enough that your heartbeat becomes something loud and unsteady again.
You could ignore it. You should ignore it.
You know exactly where this leads.
But—
You type.
you:i know
Three dots appear.
Disappear. Reappear.
Unknown:you deleted my number, didn’t you
You exhale slowly. There’s no point denying it.
you:yeah
A pause.
Then—
unknown: …that hurt a little
Something in your chest twists. Because you never wanted to hurt him.
Even now. Especially now.
Your fingers hesitate.
you:i thought that was the point
The reply takes longer this time. Like he’s choosing his words carefully.
unknown:
no
i just thought you needed space
You let out a quiet breath.
“I did,” you whisper under it.
You still do.
But he’s here now.
The conversation doesn’t flow like it used to.
Not like before you ended it. Not like before things got too real.
There are pauses now.
Careful wording.
A tension that wasn’t there before.
unknown:can we talk?
You stare at the message.
Because you already know—
Talking is what got you here in the first place.
you:we are
A pause.
unknown:no, like… properly
Your chest tightens.
you:what’s there to say?
The typing bubble appears instantly this time. Like he’s been waiting for that question.
unknown:after we stopped talking i kept thinking about what you said
You swallow.
Your fingers hover, but you don’t reply.
So he continues.
unknown:about how i forgot you
Your heart skips.
and i know i said i can’t rememberand that’s still true
Something sinks in your chest.
Of course it is.
But then—
Another message.
unknown:but it’s weird
Your brows knit slightly.
you:what is?
The reply comes quickly.
unknown:you don’t feel like a stranger
Your breath catches.
Because he said that before. And it broke you then.
It shouldn’t mean anything now.
Him:like the way you talkthe things you saysometimes i feel like i already know what you’re gonna say before you say it
Your heart starts to beat faster.
Unsteady. Dangerous.
and it’s been bothering me
You sit up slightly. Your grip tightens around your phone.
you:why?
There’s a pause. Longer than before.
unknwon:because i don’t remember youbut something in me acts like i should
Your breath stutters.
And for a second—
A stupid, fragile hope flickers.
But you push it down immediately. Because hope is what ruined you the first time.
you:yunho
You type his name before you can stop yourself.
The moment you send it—
Your chest tightens. Because it feels too familiar. Too much like before.
There’s a pause on his end.
Then—
unknown:i think that’s what’s messing with me
Your chest tightens again.
unknown:so can i see you?
Your heart stops. Just for a second.
Because that question—
It changes everything. Seeing him again means risking everything you just started to rebuild. Risking the fragile distance you created to protect yourself.
Risking falling right back into something that already broke you once.
Your chest tightens painfully.
you:why?
The reply comes instantly.
Too quickly to be fully thought through.
unknown:because i don’t want to feel like this anymore
You close your eyes.
Tears slip down, slow and quiet.
Because that’s the difference between you.
He doesn’t want to feel it. You’ve been feeling it all along.
Alone.
Your fingers hover over the screen.
You should say no. You should end it here. You should protect yourself this time.
But instead—
You:just this once
Send.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You almost cancel.
Three times, actually.
Once when you’re choosing what to wear and nothing feels right—too much like trying, too much like caring.
Once when you’re halfway out the door and your chest tightens so suddenly you have to lean against the wall and remind yourself how to breathe.
And once when you’re already there. Because of course you are.
Early.
You always used to be early.
The café is quieter than you expected. Late afternoon light spills through the windows, soft and golden, settling over empty tables and untouched cups. It feels like the kind of place you would’ve liked back then.
The kind of place he would’ve teased you for choosing.
You pick a table by the window. You don’t order anything.
Your hands stay wrapped around nothing, fingers laced together just to keep them still.
You tell yourself this is just a conversation.
Nothing more. Nothing less. The door opens.
You don’t look up immediately.
You don’t have to. You feel it.
That shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable, like your body recognizes him before your mind allows it.
Footsteps. Closer.
Then—
“Hey.”
You look up.
And there he is.
Yunho.
A little out of breath, like he rushed. His hair is slightly messy, like he ran his hands through it too many times.
There’s something different about his expression today—still warm, still open, but quieter around the edges.
Less certain.
You nod.
“Hey.”
He sits across from you.
For a moment, neither of you speak.
It’s strange.
You’ve sat across from him before. Countless times. In classrooms, in cafeterias, on sidewalks with shared drinks between you.
But this—
This feels like something else entirely.
Like sitting across from a memory that doesn’t recognize you.
“So,” he says after a beat, letting out a small breath, “this is… kind of weird.”
You let out a faint, humorless huff.
“Yeah.”
He scratches the back of his neck.
“I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.”
“I almost didn’t.”
Honesty slips out easier now. Maybe because there’s nothing left to protect.
He nods slowly.
“…Yeah. That’s fair.”
Silence settles again.
Not awkward.
Just heavy.
Like there’s too much sitting between you for small talk to make sense.
He’s the one who breaks it.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Yunho says.
You don’t respond. You just watch him.
Because you already know this isn’t going to be simple.
“I know I said I don’t remember you,” he continues, quieter now, his gaze dropping briefly to the table before flickering back up to you. “And I don’t. Not… properly.”
Something in your chest tightens.
You nod once.
“I know.”
“But—” he pauses, like he’s trying to find the right words, “it’s been… bothering me.”
You tilt your head slightly.
“How?”
He exhales, leaning back in his chair, one hand coming up to rub at the side of his neck.
“It’s stupid,” he mutters.
“It’s not.”
He glances at you.
Something flickers there—something almost familiar—but it’s gone before you can hold onto it.
“…It feels like I skipped something,” he says finally.
Your breath stills.
“Like—” he huffs out a quiet laugh, but there’s no humor in it, “like when you start a show halfway through and everyone already knows each other and you’re just… there, trying to catch up.”
Your fingers tighten slightly in your lap.
“That’s what this feels like,” he adds. “Like I walked into something I was already part of.”
The words land softly. But they echo.
Because he doesn’t know how close he is.
You swallow.
“You didn’t skip it,” you say quietly.
“You just left it.”
He goes still. Like something about that phrasing settles differently in his chest.
“…Yeah,” he murmurs after a second. “Maybe.”
A pause.
Then he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table.
“Can I ask you something?”
You nod.
“What was I like?” he asks.
Your heart stumbles.
Because that question—
It’s too big.
Too loaded. Too dangerous.
You let out a slow breath.
“You were…” your voice falters, and you have to steady it before continuing, “you were easy to be around.”
He smiles faintly.
“Yeah, that sounds like me.”
You almost smile too. Almost.
“You talked a lot,” you add.
“Hey—”
“And you laughed at your own jokes,” you continue, softer now.
“Okay, that’s accurate.”
There’s a small, fleeting warmth in the moment.
Something light. Something that almost feels normal.
But then—
You keep going.
“You remembered things,” you say.
His smile fades slightly.
“…What kind of things?”
“Small things,” you reply. “Stuff people usually forget.”
Your gaze drops to the table.
“You didn’t forget me back then.”
The silence that follows is different.
Heavier.
Yunho doesn’t respond right away.
When you look up again, he’s watching you.
Closely.
Like he’s trying to see something past what’s in front of him.
“…I would’ve, though,” he says eventually, quieter now. “Right? I mean—people don’t just forget someone important like that.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Because he doesn’t realize—
He did.
You shake your head slightly.
“I don’t know.”
He studies your face again. Longer this time.
And there’s something in his expression now. Something unsettled.
“Can I say something weird?” he asks.
You nod.
“I keep thinking about this feeling,” he says slowly, like he’s piecing it together as he speaks. “Like… something’s missing.”
Your chest tightens. You don’t interrupt.
“I didn’t notice it before,” he continues. “Not until you showed up again. And now it’s just—there.”
He lets out a quiet breath, gaze dropping to his hands.
“It’s not like I remember anything,” he says. “I don’t have, like, flashbacks or anything dramatic.”
A small, self-conscious laugh.
“But it’s like… I know I forgot something important.”
Your throat tightens. You don’t trust your voice.
So you stay quiet.
He looks up again. At you.
And this time—
He doesn’t look confused.
He looks… certain.
Not of the past. Not of memories.
But of something else.
“…It’s you, isn’t it?” he says softly.
Your breath catches. The world seems to still around you.
Not because he remembers. But because he doesn’t.
And he still came to that conclusion.
You don’t answer. You can’t.
Because if you do—
It makes it real. It makes it something that exists outside of you.
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“I don’t remember what we were,” Yunho continues, voice low, steady in a way that almost feels unfamiliar. “Or what happened. Or why I forgot.”
A pause.
“But I know I did.”
Your vision blurs slightly.
“And I know it mattered,” he adds.
The words land gently. Carefully.
Like he’s trying not to break something he can’t see.
Your fingers curl into your sleeves.
“Yunho—”
“I’m not saying this to fix it,” he cuts in quickly, shaking his head. “I know I can’t. I know it’s not the same.”
He exhales.
“But I needed to say it.”
Silence stretches between you.
Because this—this is the closest you’re ever going to get.
Not memories. Not recognition.
But acknowledgment.
A quiet understanding of something he can’t fully grasp.
Your chest aches. But it’s different this time.
Not sharp. Not suffocating.
Just sad.
You look at him. Really look at him.
At the boy you loved.At the man sitting in front of you now.
And for the first time, you don’t try to bridge the gap.
You just let it exist.
“…Yeah,” you say softly.
“That was me.”
He nods. Slowly.
Like he already knew. Like he just needed to hear it out loud.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
The silence lingers—but it doesn’t suffocate.
Not like before.
It sits between you, softer now.
Not empty, not painful in the same sharp way. Just… there. Like something both of you are finally looking at instead of trying to fix.
Yunho leans back slightly, exhaling through his nose.
“…I don’t like it,” he admits.
You glance at him. “What?”
“This feeling,” he says, tapping lightly against his chest. “Like I dropped something important and didn’t even notice until now.”
Your lips press together.
“You didn’t notice,” you say gently. “That’s kind of the problem.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
He looks at you again—really looks this time. Not like he’s trying to recognize you, not like he’s searching for something lost.
Just… looking.
And somehow, that feels different.
“I think I’d remember you if I could,” he says after a moment.
You huff out a small breath. “That’s not exactly comforting.”
He winces slightly. “Yeah. That sounded better in my head.”
A quiet pause.
Then—
“But I don’t think remembering is the only way something can matter.”
Your brows knit faintly.
He shifts forward again, resting his arms on the table, closer this time.
“I don’t remember what we were,” Yunho says carefully. “But I know it wasn’t small. I can tell just from… you.”
Your heart stutters.
“And from this,” he adds, glancing down at his chest again like he’s trying to explain something he doesn’t fully understand. “Whatever this is—it’s not nothing.”
You don’t answer right away.
Because part of you wants to resist.
Want to say it’s not enough.
Wants to hold onto the idea that if he doesn’t remember, then it can’t be real anymore.
But another part of you—
Quieter. Tired.
Knows that this is the first time since you met again that he isn’t treating it lightly.
He isn’t laughing. He isn’t brushing it off.
He’s… choosing to take it seriously.
Even without the memories.
“…So what are you saying?” you ask softly.
He exhales.
“I’m saying I don’t want to walk away from this again,” Yunho replies.
Your chest tightens.
“I already did that once. Even if I don’t remember it—I still did.” His voice is quieter now, steadier. “And I don’t like the idea that I could just… lose you twice.”
The words settle deep.
Not dramatic. Not overwhelming.
Just sincere.
You look down at your hands.
Because this is the part where it gets dangerous again.
Hope.
The thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t fall into.
“…It won’t be the same,” you say.
It’s not a warning. Just the truth.
“I know.”
“You won’t remember the things I do.”
“I know.”
You lift your gaze.
“Then why?”
There’s no hesitation this time.
“Because I still want to know you.”
Simple. Clear.
No past attached to it. No expectations he can’t meet.
You search his face.
For doubt. For uncertainty. For anything that feels temporary.
But Yunho has always been like this.
When he decides something, he leans into it fully. All heart.
“…You’re starting over,” you say.
He tilts his head slightly.
“Yeah.”
Your chest aches faintly.
“From nothing.”
He shakes his head.
“Not from nothing.”
A small pause.
Then, softer—
“From you.”
Your breath catches.
Because he doesn’t say from the past. He doesn’t pretend to understand something he doesn’t.
He just chooses what’s in front of him.
You.
The present version. The one he can actually hold onto.
And for the first time—
That doesn’t feel like a loss. It feels… possible.
You exhale slowly.
“…You’re really stubborn.”
He grins a little at that.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That sounds like something I’d hear from someone who knows me,” he says, a hint of warmth slipping back into his voice.
You roll your eyes.
And that’s when you realize, this doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.
Not because the past disappeared. But because you’re not trying to drag it into the present anymore.
You’re just… here. With him.
“…Okay,” you say finally.
His expression stills.
“Okay?” he repeats.
You nod.
“Okay.”
Something shifts in his face then—something bright, relieved, almost boyish.
“Yeah?” he asks, like he needs to be sure.
“Yeah.”
A smile breaks across his face.
Wide. Warm.
Familiar in a way that doesn’t hurt this time.
“Then—” he sits up straighter, energy returning in that unmistakable way, “we should do this properly.”
You blink. “Do what properly?”
“Start over,” he says.
You huff softly. “You already said that.”
“No, I mean like—actually do it right this time,” Yunho continues, reaching for his phone before pausing. “Wait, no—I already have your number.”
You raise a brow. “Good job.”
“Hey, I’m improving,” he shoots back.
There’s a lightness now.
Something easy. Something that doesn’t feel like it’s built on something broken.
He looks at you again.
A little more careful this time.
“…Can I try something?”
You hesitate.
“…What?”
He leans forward slightly, resting his chin lightly against his hand, studying you.
“Tell me something about you,” he says.
You blink.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
You stare at him for a second.
And then—
You answer.
“I like quiet places.”
His smile softens.
“Yeah,” he says. “That makes sense.”
Your chest tightens faintly.
“Why?”
He shrugs lightly.
“I don’t know. It just… fits.”
You don’t say anything.
But something about that feels like the beginning of something.
Not the past. Not what you lost.
But something new. Something that doesn’t erase what happened but doesn’t live inside it either.
Yunho taps the table lightly.
“Okay, my turn,” he says. “I like loud places.”
You almost laugh.
“I know.”
He pauses, eyes flickering up.
“…You do?”
You catch yourself. Too late.
A small silence settles between you.
Then—
He smiles.
Not confused. Not questioning.
Just soft.
“Then I guess you’ll have to remind me,” he says.
And it doesn’t hurt. Because you’re not the only one holding on anymore.
He might not remember the past. But he’s choosing you now.
And maybe that’s enough.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You leave the café together.
Not side by side at first. There’s still a small space between you.
Careful. New.
But not unfamiliar.
Halfway down the street, Yunho glances at you.
“Hey.”
You look up.
“Yeah?”
He hesitates. Just for a second.
Then he reaches out.
Not for your hand. Just your sleeve.
A small, absent tug.
Like it’s instinct. Like it’s something his body remembers even if his mind doesn’t.
Your breath catches.
Because he used to do that. All the time.
“Walk this way,” he says casually. “It’s less crowded.”
You stare at his hand for a second longer than you should.
You follow.
And it doesn’t feel like you’re losing him again.
It feels like you’re meeting him for the first time.
It's been months since you broke up. It was his fault, he knew it but he couldn't help but miss you everyday. He would forever hate himself for going to that party, kissing that other woman... For his punishment, he now had to life with consequences of his actions, he had to life without you.
⚠: college!au, ex partners, cheating, hurt with no comfort, heavy angst, language, mentions of alcohol consumption, hallucinations, nightmares, yearning, don't know if I forget smth!
Like today it would be your your 2nd year anniversary together. Only you wouldn't be together no more...
It's been about four months that you had broke up with him, that you left. But he couldn't blame you, no matter how hard he tried so to dull the pain he felt, he couldn't blame you. It was his fault and he knew it.
He didn't remember how it happened, only that he was pussy drunk at some party a friend of a friend of his threw at his place. He remembered that he went alone, you a had fight before and he left without you. Then the next thing remembered from that night was that he laying on a couch surrounded by people he didn't know, had drunk about a whole bottle of whiskey and some girl didn't know was making out with him.
Then, he saw you, standing in the distance in middle of semi-living dancing corpses, looking so heartbroken. He tried to get to you, shoving the girl away, his only thought was to just get to you. Stumbling through the crowd he tried to reach you, to tell you that he didn't know how this happened cause he indeed didn't know.
He couldn't remember how he found himself in that mess, the alcohol had fogged everything in his mind but he wanted to explain even if what he did was unforgivable, and he knew that. He would do everything to make this right cause he loved you but by the time he pushed through the crowds, you had disappeared.
He remembered driving back your home, almost killing himself and crashing to a car to not find you there. Instead of you, he found a cold note on the kitchen counter saying that you didn't want to see him again and not trying calling you.
He deserved it, everything but it killed not being able to explain to tell you he's sorry for fighting with you before that stupid party, because even if he couldn't remember what you two had fought about, he knew you were right, you were always right.
And now, approximately four months after you broke up, at the day of your anniversary he had came across a post from your Instagram account. You had just been engaged, today, at the day of your anniversary, only it wasn't no more.
He didn't know how he found himself in a bar, drinking directly from a bottle of soju. It was like he lost consciousness after he saw so happy without him. It was selfish he knew it, especially after that horrible thing he did to you but he couldn't help it, he love you still.
He only realised when Soobin shook him back in reality. "Hey man! We've been looking for you everywhere!" he said, his voice sounding urgent. "W-what h-appened?" he hiccuped, slurring through the words. "You stood us up, that's happened!" Taehyun commented from behind, snatching the bottle from his hand. "We where supposed to go out tonight but you never showed up nor answered your phone and we got worried." Taehyun continued.
"She's engaged." he said, his voice breaking, trying to reach for the bottle again only for Taehyun to pull it further away. "It's not even been four months!"
They didn't say anything, only sat beside him. "She can't do this, I love her!" he cried, reaching for the bottle once again only to accidentally dropped to the floor. The bartender threw them a firce glance and Soobin immediately apologised, paying for the broken bottle and shuffling Yeonjun out of there.
He could barely stand, stumbling upon every steps when he saw. He could swear he saw you through crowds. And you saw him too, you looked at him and smiled. He tried to break free from his friend's hold to get to you. "Hey, where are you going?" Soobin said, chasing after him along with Taehyun.
"She's here, Y/n, she's here!" he said making his way towards you. "What are you talking about?" Taehyun said, grabbing him, haulting him in his steps. "I saw her!" he said, pointing to where you were. "She's not here, let's go." Soobin replied, pulling him away. "But she is, I saw her!" Yeonjun protested, trying to find you. "She is not, she's in America, don't you remember?" Taehyun said, shoving him out of the bar.
That's when reality hit him. Taehyun was right. Right after you broke up, you moved back with your parents in America, quitting your studies, everything. That's how much he broke you. After that, he collapsed on the pavement and everything started feeling far away.
He didn't know how much time passed when he woke up. He only knew that he wasn't at his home. The place he in was obnoxiously white and smelled like sterile. That's when he realised he was in a hospital.
He looked around trying to find anything familiar and then, he saw you. You were sitting at a chair next to him, sleeping, your head leaning on his bed. He froze. He was right, you were here! He wanted to hug you, take your hand but his body was locked.
Suddenly, you stirred awake, blinking the sleep from your eyes. "Jun?" you said, your voice quiet and raspy, "How are you feeling?" you continued with urgency. "I-I'm... I'm okay." he stammered. "Thank God! You got me worried." you responded, slowly taking his tubed hand in yours.
"How many times I have told you to not drink too much?" you said, tears pooling in your eyes. The sight broke his heart. He didn't like seeing you cry.
"I'm sorry." he said, turning to you, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Y/n!" he said again and again, not quite knowing for what he was apologising for. "Shhh, calm down Jjunnie."
"I love you, I love you so much! I'm sorry for everything, I didn't mean anyt-" he tried to say. "Shh, shh, I know Jun, I know." you hushed him, pushing some stray strands from his face, your hand lingering on his cheek. He leaned in your touch.
"Please, say you love me and I will do anything to make everything right again! Please say you love me, please-
"..."
"Please!"
A breathless gasp escaped from his throat, jolting awake. Cold sweat clung on his skin, his breaths ragged as his eyes scanned his surroundings. He was in that same cold, dark, sterile hospital room only you weren't there.
The chair next to him was empty except the couch facing his bed where his two friends where sleeping.
You weren't there, it was all a dream. A cruel dream. You weren't there, you far away from him, happy with someone else that wasn't him. And he was here alone without you, with tears streaming down his face from the memories of you and there was nothing he could do to fix that...
I hope this email receives you well. It has been brought to my attention that in the fifth floor, the door to the archive closet has begun to malfunction, and has locked employees in on occasion. As maintenance is busy ensuring the remodel to the third floor lobby is finished ASAP, it may take a few days before the door can be fixed; that being said, please do not go to the closet alone, and bring a person to hold the door open for you instead. We thank you for your patience at this time and hope to resolve the issue soon.
Sincerely,
Manager Lee."
beomgyu x fem!reader x taehyun
Genre: office au, work friends(?) to something more, smut smut smut!!!! no plot.
Word Count : 5.8K
warnings: DUBCON/NONCON!! (mc protests, they ignore her, she secretly wants them too) beomgyu is so insane, soft dom! taehyun, hard dom! beomgyu (with thee slightest of hints of sub gyu at the end), sub! mc, dry humping, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, threesome, semi-public sex? pet name galore (sweetie, pretty, angel, good girl, etc.), spanking, breast play, begging, sir kink, fingering, choking, masturbating, hand jobs, hair pulling, biting, praise, a little mxm actionnnnn >__<, finger sucking, cum play, lmk if i missed anything!
notes: oh nothing, just thinking about being shoved in an uppuz sandwich.
[While this story isn't necessarily "dark", I ask you read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]
It's official— this is the stupidest situation you've ever found yourself in. It beats the time you blasted your text messages shit-talking the office on the television instead of your proposal presentation, or the time you accidentally revealed a marketing strategy to an acquaintance you later found worked at a competing company. Yeah… this might outdo all that.
"Get off!"
"I can't! Something fell behind me!"
Following Taehyun to the storage closet to help him get archives from the past five years of marketing strategies was fine. Easy enough. Beomgyu trailing behind, insisting to help by holding open the door that was known to need fixing due to it's faulty doorknob was also fine. Beomgyu jumping in to stop a box from falling on your head, letting the door shut behind him and cramping all of you in the tiny space, was not.
You're a jumble of tangled limbs in the blink of an eye— you've fallen back against Taehyun, pinning him against the shelf while Beomgyu tries to keep himself from falling on top of you; you hear a thump, and you're all groaning as the space between you three closes.
"Ngh— c'mon, I can't breathe here!" it's a lie, but you try your best to squirm around anyway, pushing Beomgyu's chest and arching back away from him— but right into Taehyun, pressing him against the shelf as he grabs your waist and curses in your ear that you're squishing him. "Beomgyu, stop leaning on me!"
"Stop fucking moving," Taehyun snaps. The two of you instantly quiet down. "You're both crushing me."
"I'm sorry," you whisper out, and the two scoff. Taehyun's head rests on your shoulder, and Beomgyu is still looming over you. The three of you fall silent as you try to think of what to do.
Okay, it could be worse; you start there. Taehyun and Beomgyu aren't terrible people to get stuck in a closet with, you suppose. They're nice enough to work with, polite and fun to talk to— you'd even go as far as saying you're work friends, and if you're going to be stuck here for a while (which is likely, considering the office is empty now), then it won't be terribly awkward. At least, as not-awkward as it can be when you're sandwiched between them.
"Either of you know any tricks to unlock the door?" You try.
"Nope."
"None."
"Okay…" you gulp. Beomgyu's body is smothering your face, and all you can smell is his— perfume? It's floral and clean, suiting for such a beautiful man. "Anyone we can call to get us out?"
"Not that I know of," Taehyun says. Fuck, the smell of his shampoo is invading your senses— you feel like you're going crazy with how good these two men smell. "We were the only ones left in the office. Maintenance doesn't come on Fridays, and the cleaning crew left thirty minutes ago."
"Wow, that's great," you groan, dropping your head back against Taehyun's shoulder, only to straighten after realizing the intimacy of it. "What about people in the department?"
"You really think someone's gonna answer a company call? At 8PM on a Friday?" Beomgyu says.
You scoff. "It wouldn't hurt to try!"
"Okay, then call someone you think would answer."
You shift around to grab your phone, and the two men are complaining that you don't need to wiggle around so much— a minute passes as you scroll through your contacts, debating on who would be most likely to answer. When you finally decide, you let the call ring out on speaker.
It rings.
And rings. And rings.
Then cuts off abruptly.
"What the fuck?" your mouth is wide open as you try again, only for you to be hung up on again. The two looming over you chuckle.
"Guess she's still not over the text messages." Beomgyu teases.
"It wasn't even fucking about her!"
"It was about the guy she was crushing on though." Taehyun chimes in.
"Whatever," you grumble, "it's not my fault she can't handle the fact that her crush is a weirdo."
The two don't bother refuting that— because who the fuck is delivering suggestive anime figures to the office? Accident or not, that figurine made your stomach churn just looking at it.
"Okay then, I'm all out of options," you sigh— because the only other people you're confident would come to your aid are trapped in the closet with you. "What about you two?"
"Nah."
"I don't make friends with my coworkers."
"Ouch," you say, though you know better than to take Taehyun seriously. After all, it couldn't be true with the way he's gotten himself comfortable with you now. Not to mention that him and Beomgyu are inseparable, despite their constant quarrels.
A long silence ensues. You can't hide nerves in your voice as you speak. "Are we seriously stuck in here then?"
"…I doubt it," Taehyun says, "maybe there's still someone hanging around the office."
The silence that follows after is much worse— Taehyun's attempt of reassuring you was appreciated, but it didn't help much, as you feel yourself becoming restless at the thought of being stuck in this closet all night— or weekend. Does the cleaning crew come on weekends? You don't remember. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency number; it'd be humiliating to have the office find out about your predicament, but anything beats being stuck in this dusty closet.
You're shifting this way and that, your limbs getting cramped up after trying to remain still to not worsen your position. But your overthinking mind has made you lose rationality, as you're wiggling around to try and get away from the two men to no avail. They scold you to stop, their bodies taut and their commands so firm you can't help but instantly listen. You haven't moved an inch, and all you've done is mess up everyone's balance, your bodies pressed firmly together.
Your foot is angled terribly, and if you remain standing like this, you'll lose balance and make things worse. Once more, you shift, and they both tense. Then you feel it.
Against the swell of your ass. Against your thigh. Hot and thick and throbbing against your bunched up skirt, against your stockings, the deep rise and fall of their chests suddenly making more sense.
"Something wrong?" Taehyun is the first to notice you've gone stiff. "Are you claustrophobic? You're breathing pretty heavily."
"I mean, I'm kinda stuck between you two now, wouldn't it make sense to freak out?" you say. "Not a lot of space here."
"Sorry, are we making you uncomfortable?" Taehyun says, "I can assure you no one wants to be here like this. If I could, I'd step away."
"No, that's not it."
You finally meet Beomgyu's eyes. You don't like how he's looking at you, his face dimly lit by the fluorescent office lights that leak through the cracks of the door. Like he knows better than you.
"You feel it, don't you?" he looks down at where your thigh continues to press against his crotch. He lets out a shaky breath. "Both of us."
"Both—?" Taehyun's head snaps up, glaring at Beomgyu. "The hell are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid, Taehyunie," Beomgyu coos, "your face gives you away."
He takes a hold of your chin, tilting it up. "Yours too."
You try to glare at him. "I'm not sure I follow."
"God, can we stop playing innocent here?" Beomgyu throws his head back in frustration. "No one's coming to get us anytime soon, and we're all stuck pressed up on each other. You feel what it's doing to us. You like it."
"Choi Beomgyu," you gasp out, "This is highly unprofession— oh,"
He's grinding on your thigh, his eyes never leaving yours. His thick brows furrow, and his mouth parts to let out a soft sigh. He feels so warm against you, shifting slightly so he can grind right against your inner thigh; your cheeks are warming up at the way you whimper softly.
Taehyun hisses. "Shit."
"See?" Beomgyu huffs, punctuating it with a thrust aimed at the apex of your thigh; you gasp, jolting against Taehyun who only holds you tighter. "Told'ya she likes it."
"I— I don't," you whine, hands grabbing onto Beomgyu's button up, scrunching it in your hands. Your eyes fall to where his hips grind, a tight tent against his pants, and you squint your eyes to find a small dark spot building. "This is wrong, we're going to get in trouble."
"Then we need to make sure no one finds out," Beomgyu hunches forward, his breath on your lips as he pants and groans, letting out a soft fuck. Your eyes are fluttering shut, mouth parting as you find yourself leaning in. He looks up at Taehyun just as you do. "Right Taehyunie?"
You can only feel Taehyun getting harder behind you; his fingers are dug so deeply in your skin that all he's doing now is holding you still for Beomgyu, who in turn keeps thrusting you against him. Taehyun's breath against your neck has you shivering, head leaning back against him as you feel your legs shake from the awkward position.
"Hurry up then," Taehyun grits out, "If I end up cumming in my pants, I'll kill you."
"You heard him right sweetie?" Beomgyu laughs, "Spread your legs a little more, yeah?"
"Beomgyu no," you say, "are you crazy? We're working, we're in the office—"
"After hours, with no one around to interrupt us." He's bunching up your skirt even more, giggling at the way you slap his hands, "All I'm hearing is that you're scared we'll get caught. And we won't. So what's the problem here?"
You try to crane your head back, meeting Taehyun's gaze in hopes that he'll be rational and tell Beomgyu to keep it in his pants— he raises his brow at you instead. When you look back at Beomgyu with wide eyes, he grins.
"Yeah, that's what I figured."
His hands rub up your legs, smoothing over your inner thighs appreciatively. His hand cups your cunt, just to feel how hot you are against his palm, and he curses when he feels the dampness seeping through the fabric. Without warning, he rips a hole in your tights, and you jump back against Taehyun.
"Beomgyu!"
"You sound so cute like that," He grins, reaching up to squish your cheeks in his hand; his nails dig in just a little too much, and you wince— he seems to like your reaction. "Makes me wanna be rougher with you."
"Stop talking like that, you're freaking her out," Taehyun rolls his eyes, "You want her to change her mind because you're acting like a weirdo?"
You bristle. "I never made up my mind in the first place—"
When Beomgyu pulls your face to kiss him, you let out a startled yelp. His hand goes from holding your face to the back of your nape, pulling you into his mouth until you feel like you can't possibly get closer. His lips are plump and his kiss is vicious, parting your mouth so he can shove his tongue in and get a proper taste of you. You whine, putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, and kiss him back. When he feels you leaning forward in search for more, he bites your lip and pulls away with a laugh.
"You don't need to play hard to get anymore. Y'know that, right?" He smooths out your hair, the gesture unexpectedly gentle. "Though it's hot when you pretend to fight back."
"God, if you don't hurry up then I'll just take my turn first." Taehyun's words have you flushing with heat, the unexpected filth making you buzz with excitement. The two argue about who should have you first, and you're trapped between them while you try to pretend that this isn't just something you've dreamt about and shamed yourself over time and time again.
"Sorry, sorry," Beomgyu shrugs, pushing your panties aside with rough fingers. He swipes his fingers through your folds, whistling when he feels how wet you are. He stares you down while he continues to circle your entrance. "You heard our darling, right? I'll take my time with you next time, I swear."
Next time? You don't get to think too much on what he's implying, because next thing you know, his tip is at your entrance, and he's pushing in.
Oh god.
"Oh god," you struggle to breathe out, nails digging into Beomgyu's shoulders; your other hand flies down to where Taehyun continues to hold your waist, and his fingers part just enough so you can intertwine your hand with his. "Can you— fuck— slow down? Please?"
"Slow down? Seriously?" Beomgyu's brows are scrunched together, his finger circling lightly on your clit— teasing, slow circles that make you clench around him and make his breath stutter. "How am I supposed to slow down when you feel like this?"
Despite his petulance, he proceeds to go a little slower, pushing in until his pelvis is flush against yours, grinding his hips deep inside you as he swoops down to bring you into another kiss. His free hand reaches for your thigh again, hoisting it up on his hip to get better access. He fucks you slow and deep, panting into your mouth when you squeeze him, smiling coyly when you whine against his lips.
"She sounds so nice, doesn't she Taehyunie?"
"Yeah," Taehyun sounds breathless, "even better when you shut the fuck up."
"Don't be mean," Beomgyu pouts, his grip on your thigh tightening as he begins to fuck you harder, bringing out little squeaks from you with every thrust, "she likes it when I talk to her like this. Don't you, baby?"
"No," you say, "it's a—annoying."
"Is it?" His finger on your clit is firmer, matching his thrusts that have become cruel; the small closet is filled with the sounds of him slamming into your cunt and your stifled moans— though you try to pay attention to the way Taehyun occasionally groans and hisses behind you as well. Beomgyu spanks your thigh, and your attention is snapping back to him; he wears a cocky smile that makes you frown, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he rolls his hips to aim for your sweet spot. When he finds it, you let out a long whine, your body slumping back in defeat. "Then how come you were so wet before I even touched you?"
You bite down on your lip, trying to quiet down in spite of him— it doesn't work of course, because he's found just the right spots to get you to jolt with pleasure, your facade falling apart the second Taehyun's hand makes quick work to unbutton your shirt, fingers slipping beneath your bra to tug and twist at your nipples; when you feel his lips trailing kisses down your neck, you let out a weak whimper.
"Don't get quiet on us baby," Taehyun murmurs against your skin, "just ignore him."
"Ignore him?" the stimulation is getting to be too much, and you feel yourself getting wound up in no time. Your brain is a muddled mess of senses, hyper aware of even their breath on your skin. Beomgyu huffs, digging his nails into your thigh. "When I'm the one making you feel this good?"
"Don't you try to ignore me when I'm the one that's gonna make you cum," Beomgyu lets go of your thigh to squish your cheeks and bring your face close to his.
"Look at me," he breathes out, "you gonna cum, sweet thing? I can feel you squeezing me."
He doesn't let go of your face, and you're forced to talk through a pout. "Uh-huh— please, wanna cum— please?"
Beomgyu looks at Taehyun, chuckling smugly before he smiles at you.
"So polite," he coos, "but you think you deserve it? After talking to me like that? Sayin' I'm annoying?"
You try to protest, but you can barely make a sentence through your moans, "Y-you're right— ah, m'sorry— please, please let me cum…"
Beomgyu is soaking this in, you can tell— he doesn't say anything for a moment, observing you carefully instead; the way your eyes plea silently to him, your bitten lips that are left open and panting, and the way his cock disappears inside you— the squelching noise that comes from his sudden thrusts, your warm body that trembles under him— and he lets out a condescending laugh, switching up his pace so he's pulling all the way out, just to bottom out in you as slow as possible.
"That's not enough for me baby," He bites his lip, concentrating on not cumming as well, "you gotta beg for it."
Taehyun chuckles behind you, and you whine. "Please… please don't make me— do that."
Beomgyu merely grins. "Looks like you don't want it enough then."
Taehyun pinches your nipple, and you yelp when it's followed by his teeth sinking into your shoulder— enough to give you a quick sting, but not enough to injure you.
"C'mon pretty, be good and ask him to let you cum, yeah?" His hand slides back down to your hip, just so he can press his hard-on against your ass, "I don't think I can wait any longer for my turn."
"Ah, no…" you can feel your face heat up, meeting Beomgyu's cocky gaze, "it's embarrassing."
"Poor girl," he coos, though it's followed by a condescending laugh, "looks like we'll be here all night then."
"Which, honestly…" he slows down, grinning as he watches your cunt stretch around his cock, a thick white ring forming at the base, "I don't really mind."
Taehyun scoffs— his hand on your breast slides up to grab your throat, his fingers wrapping around you effortlessly. He's tilting your head back toward him, bringing his lips close to your ear as he tightens his hold on you.
"C'mon baby, need you to stop being difficult," he murmurs, his voice tense from waiting, "You gonna be good and listen to me?"
"Uh-huh."
"Good," he places a soft kiss to your temple. "Repeat after me, okay?"
Beomgyu is entertained by the spectacle in front of him, it shows all over his face; his eyes are dark as he watches Taehyun whisper in your ear, your glistening eyes fluttering open to meet his— you're dazed with pleasure, barely holding off from cumming as you whine out to him, not thinking much of what you're saying.
"Beomgyu— 'm sorry for being mean," you're trying your best to keep your eyes on him— it's cute how embarrassed you are, and Beomgyu grins as you hesitate to continue.
"I'll be a good girl now," His smile tenses at that— he's picking up the pace now, tears welling up in your eyes from the pleasure, "Please, can— can I cum, sir?"
"Oh, fuck," Beomgyu shivers at your weak plea— he leans back down to crash his lips against yours, his pace brutal as he begins to slam into you carelessly. It's hard to keep up with his hungry kiss, becoming a mess of spit and teeth as he moans shamelessly against your lips; he pulls back just enough to pant and whine, "yes, of course you can, sweet angel— c'mon, let me feel it."
Your whole body tenses when you finally let go, a long whine of Beomgyu's name leaving you as your high crashes, waves of pleasure overtaking you as you clench around Beomgyu's cock, listening to him moan and praise you breathlessly. The two don't take their eyes off you for a second, watching your body shake and your eyes squeeze shut. Beomgyu slows to a stop after your body slumps against Taehyun's, rely on the two men to hold you up.
"So perfect," Beomgyu gives you a soft kiss, "God, you put on quite a show."
"Shut up," you say, though it's only met with a soft spank to your thigh— you yelp at the sensation, and Beomgyu smooths his palm against the spot.
Beomgyu has yet to pull out yet— just when you're about to tease him about it, you realize why that is as you feel him throb inside you.
"Beomgyu," you breathe out, "you haven't cum yet."
He looks more than ready to shrug off your comment and give you some lame excuse that it's fine— before he can open his mouth, you're wrapping your leg around his hip and pressing him in; a choked moan leaves him at the sensation of you clenching around him.
"Can…" you hesitate, but push through regardless. "Can you cum inside?"
It's silent. You wonder if you've gone too far, ready to take it back when the two men make eye contact and begin to laugh in disbelief.
"Jesus, baby. You really know how to kill a man," Beomgyu's voice is strained, his hips beginning to move again— but his rhythm is sloppy, and he can barely hold back his moans as he fucks you, "You sure about this?"
"Yes," you whine, shivering at the overstimulation, "Please, I want you to fill me up, sir."
You're too smart for your own good— as soon as the title leaves your lips, Beomgyu's head is falling back and his hips are pressing impossibly deep inside you, pulling your hips against his as he grinds into you and cums. He continues to fuck you through his orgasm, hissing out curses and whining your name like it's the sweetest thing on his tongue— when his high has washed away, he leans back into you to catch your lips in a last, chaste kiss.
"Fuck, you're dangerous," he murmurs, "why haven't we done this sooner?"
"Well, I don't think we've gotten locked in the archive closet before."
You're pulling away from Beomgyu's lips to laugh at Taehyun's comment, the former rolling his eyes and calling Taehyun a smart-ass. You're barely given a moment before Beomgyu is pulling out, grinning at the way you whimper at the loss of him inside you.
"Here," he says, bringing his fingers to your cunt to catch his dripping cum, only to stuff his digits inside you, "don't want this going to waste, right?"
"Beomgyu, fuck—" you twitch as his fingers curl inside, massaging your sweet spot, "too much— 'm sensitive."
"Do you need a break?" Taehyun chimes in, "We can stop here if you want."
"No," you're quick to say, and the two men laugh at your eagerness— you try to ignore the way your face is heating up as you reach up for Taehyun's hand on your throat, lacing your fingers with his as you look over your shoulder at him. "I wanna feel you too."
"Is that right?" he says, breathless at the way you flutter your eyes at him and nod; his free hand snakes around your waist to push you back against him, caressing your skin idly, "well, how could I say no to such a pretty thing?"
Taehyun is adjusting your position so he can get better access to you— you end up leaning forward against Beomgyu, pinning him against the shelf behind him as Taehyun bunches your skirt up your hips a little more; his hand caress from your thighs to your ass, and you feel his gaze sweeping over your arched figure appreciatively. His hands land on your hips, moving your panties to the side again and circling his fingers around your entrance; you squirm in anticipation, and he chuckles.
"Don't tell me you're getting impatient?" he coos, his fingers dipping in teasingly before going up to circle your clit, "such a greedy girl."
He's only gliding his tip across your slit now, slapping the head of his cock against your clit to watch your squirm— but even so, you can feel how big he is, can feel the thickness of his length as he thrusts between your thighs, continuing to hiss quietly in your ear each time his tip catches against his entrance.
"Taehyun, stop teasing…" you whimper, leaning your head against Beomgyu's chest; his hand comes up to caress your head affectionately.
"M'kay baby, I'm sorry," Taehyun is surprisingly quick to give in to your commands, lining himself up before beginning to push into your cunt— though he's not as long as Beomgyu, he's definitely thicker, with a curve that aims straight for your sweet spot; your body tenses instant, mewling pathetically the moment Taehyun nestles perfectly into your cunt, drawing out a curse from him as you flutter around his length.
"Feels good?" he asks, running a hand down your spine, pushing against the small of your back to make you arch for him a little more, "You feel so perfect baby."
Slowly, he begins to move, listening for the way your breath hitches and your moans break when he slams back in and grinds against you. He lets you savor the stretch, rolling his hips into you and hitting spots that make you see stars. Slowly, he begins to speed up, until his hips are smacking against your ass and you're getting jolted against Beomgyu. It feels amazing— though as you peek over your shoulder, you find Taehyun focusing on the way your cunt takes his cock, his brows furrowed in frustration and his body tense.
"M…more…" you can't help but murmur, the pace he set too safe for your liking— the moment the request registers in his brain, Taehyun is reaching out for your hair, using it as leverage to pull you back against him, your back arching as he continues to fuck you.
"More?" he asks, his thrusts becoming rougher, "how do you want it, baby?"
"I—" the words die on your tongue the second his hand falls to your throat again, squeezing just enough to have your brain cloud up, "I don't want you to hold back."
"Are you sure?" his voice is strained, and you feel the tension melt away from him the moment you nod, "god, you're such a perfect little angel."
You feel the shift instantly; his hands are greedy as his fingertips sink into your skin, restricting your oxygen and grabbing your hips to fuck back against him. He shifts into something more possessive, eager to claim you as he fucks you rough and deep— his mouth doesn't leave your neck once, sucking and sinking his teeth into your skin, murmuring praises all the while. Your eyes are hazy as they flutter open, widening at the sight that you're met with.
"God, you two look so— so good," Beomgyu moves like a man possessed, his hand wrapped tightly around his cock that's gotten hard again. His eyes are cloudy as they run a path through your face, to where Taehyun hides in the crook of your neck, down your body and to where the two of you connect; when he catches the way his cum is getting fucked out of your cunt and mixing in with both your arousal, his cock twitches in his hand and he groans. "So pretty…"
"Fuck, you're hard again?" Taehyun rests his chin on your shoulder, breathing out a laugh before squeezing your throat, "baby, wanna help him out?"
It feels like your body is moving on its own accord; your hand is wrapping around Beomgyu's cock, your thumb swiping over his tip to collect the pre-cum that leaks out and using it to make the glide along his length smoother— his breath hitches, dizzy at the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, the size difference enough to get him close.
"Oh, you're so good— just like that, fuck, baby," he whimpers, watching your face closely, "you're so pretty, look so good taking his cock— are you gonna cum?"
You're surprised he was able to pick up on it just from watching you— he's moaning as soon as you nod, as though recalling the feeling of your cunt gushing around him. His voice is rough as he purrs out praise to you, telling you how beautiful you look and urging you to cum with him— when you squeeze him particularly hard and swipe your palm over his tip, he lets out a broken whine of your name; Taehyun's hands tighten on you, pulling you back with a low growl.
"So fucking noisy," He snarls, glaring at Beomgyu, "moaning like a whore."
"Can't help it," Beomgyu isn't the least bit apologetic, a coy smile tugging at his lips, "you'd get it if you saw what I see."
You feel your peak building up suddenly, your moans picking up and alerting the two— while Taehyun seeks out your broken pleas for him to fuck you harder, Beomgyu continues to ramble on, though it becomes nonsensical as his own climax approaches. Behind you, Taehyun huffs, his hand leaving your throat and shooting out in front of you.
"Shut the fuck up," his voice is stern, and you're both leaning forward so Taehyun can shove his middle and ring finger into Beomgyu's mouth— to your surprise, Beomgyu moans. "I don't wanna hear another word from you."
Drool begins to pool at the corners of Beomgyu's mouth, and he stares down at where you're sandwiched between them with low-lidded, foggy eyes— Taehyun's fingers push down against Beomgyu's tongue, and before he can so much as moan, he's cumming in your hand.
It's warm and sticky as it falls against your hand, arm, and shirt— you gasp, continuing to pump his cock as your own climax hits, squeezing down on Taehyun so tightly you're triggering his own orgasm shortly after, his teeth sinking into your shoulder once more to muffle the loud moan that escapes him, thick cum flooding into your cunt as his hips rut into you, riding out your orgasm and ensuring that none of his cum goes to waste. When he finally comes up from your neck, it's to whisper praises in your ear, his free hand coming up to tilt your head back to him so he can kiss you.
It's gentler than you anticipated, but he's just as needy to taste you— he pants against your mouth and bites your lips teasingly, snaking his tongue inside and devouring your whole. You don't know how long you spend like this, with his cock bottomed out inside you and his lips glued to yours; you're only able to snap out of your daze when you hear Beomgyu let out a shaky sigh.
The two of you snap your heads back to Beomgyu, who you realize with a giggle still has Taehyun's fingers in his mouth.
"You didn't need to do that y'know," Beomgyu mutters after Taehyun has pulled his hand away, but there's no heat behind his words. Considering the clear affect it had on him, you'd call Beomgyu a hypocrite— but you'll keep it to yourself for the sake of keeping peace.
"Whatever," Taehyun says. He presses a kiss on your neck, pulling out slowly, the two of you hissing when you feel his cum begin to leak out, "you okay?"
"Yeah," your voice unexpectedly hoarse, "just… sticky."
Beomgyu smiles sheepishly. "Sorry 'bout that."
"We need to get out of here," Taehyun adjusts your clothes, moving onto his with a sigh, "but who the hell could we call? Not even maintenance is here right now."
You and Taehyun fall silent, lost in thought and weighing your options— you think of the coworkers you're closer to, but you either don't have their number or know they wouldn't answer, either because they're mad at you or don't want to ruin their Friday night. It seems Taehyun is coming to the same conclusion as you, because he lets out a long, frustrated sigh. Maybe you'll have to call a non-emergency line… though you really don't know what they'd think if they found you in your current state…
Beomgyu, who had been scrolling on his phone casually, brings it up to his ear. You and Taehyun watch in anticipation.
"Hey Yena, you busy?" you can faintly hear the sweet voice of Yena, the secretary that always strays from the front desk to personally deliver Beomgyu's lunch orders and lingers around to make meaningless conversation with him. "That's great— listen, me and two others got stuck in the archives closet."
"…I did, but then this shelf got tipped over and a box almost fell on— anyway. I know it's a huge favor to ask, but would you be able to come in and let us out of here?"
There's a pause. Beomgyu sees the way you tense, and he places his hand on your waist reassuringly.
"I'll buy you dinner."
Another pause ensues. Then, a coy smile is spreading on Beomgyu's face, and he's cooing a soft thank you into the phone.
"She'll be here in fifteen."
You and Taehyun sigh dramatically, and you're leaning back against him as you finally relax. But Beomgyu's conversation lingers in your mind, and you can't stop yourself from frowning.
"You're going to dinner? After all this?"
Beomgyu perks up, radiating with a smug joy. "Awe, you jealous?" You scoff, crossing your arms and looking away. "c'mon, don't be like that sweetheart."
He cups your face, urging you to look at him. When your eyes meet his, he gives you a proud smile.
"I never said I was going with her."
Taehyun scoffs.
"Besides," Beomgyu's eyes run down your figure, darkening when they stop at your soiled shirt, "I think it's better we finish where we left off, don't you think?"
Taehyun's hands snake around your waist, hugging you close as he nestles his head on your chin. You can already picture the coy smile he must have on his face.
"That I can agree with."
"As nice as that sounds," you reach forward to grab a fistful of Beomgyu's hair, yanking it just to see Beomgyu's face twist with pain. "You've had Yena's number this whole time? And you knew she'd answer?"
"Well— I mean— I didn't think she'd actually—"
"Liar," you scowl, pulling a little more at Beomgyu's hair— he yelps, though you know it's all a facade. "You're such a perv."
Taehyun tuts, disappointed. "What d'you say we leave without him instead?"
"Sounds good to me."
Beomgyu pouts, looking like a kicked puppy. "Guys, no, don't do this to me."
"You really think you deserve to come with us after you had us stuck here for no reason?" Taehyun asks. Beomgyu can only give him a pathetic, pleading look.
"You want us that bad?" you ask, and he eagerly nods. A small smile tugs at your lips. "Then show us."
"Go on," Taehyun coos, "beg."
Despite the limited light that leaks through the cracks of the door, Beomgyu's eyes shine with need. His hands inch toward you, landing on top of Taehyun's as he closes the space between you three.
Yeah, you couldn't have asked for anyone better to get stuck in this dingy closet with.
Genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, happy ending (different from each person's perspective)
warnings: character death, heavy themes
4.9k words
Summary:
Is there life after death? After meeting a stranger on his deathbed, a friendly ghost decides to stick around to help him find his peace.
Sometimes, things don't turn out the way you want them to.
You imagine what your life will look like two, five, ten years from now.
A house in the suburbs, a cozy fireplace where you tell Christmas stories, a fluffy dog sitting in the corner...
You get the gist.
Unfortunately for me, this will never be the case.
As I stand over my lifeless body, limbs sprawled on the pavement, paramedics rushing around the scene, I can't help but wonder one thing.
Is death truly the end?
I was an honour student in high school. The best grades, the most accomplishments, medals in every competition there were. College came naturally to someone like me. With a major in business, I was on the way to becoming a success. I could feel it in my veins.
The only thing I feel now is the light breeze coursing through my body as I sit on the edge of a bridge.
In theory, if you fall from this height, you'll probably end up dead. In practise, I am already dead, so this doesn't apply to me.
I don't know what went wrong. One minute I was laughing with my friends, stumbling around after one too many tequila shots, and the next...
I shake my head as the image of running cars passes before my eyes. I feel bad about the people who were with me that night. The sight was not pretty.
I was about to leap from my spot and disappear into the night when I heard whimpering from my right. There are many people crossing over this bridge, but mostly with their cars. I turned my head around and there he was.
Standing a couple of feet beside me, a handsome man leaned down to look into the flowing water under the high bridge. He had a solemn expression on his face. His eyes were red, nose runny, fingers almost blue in colour.
What caught my attention the most were his blood stained lips, and his bare feet.
He looked like he was on the brink of death.
He gripped the railing, and sniffled. I almost felt bad for him, but then I remembered he was the one with a beating heart.
I scoffed.
"Pathetic."
His eyes widened and he turned towards me.
Our eyes met.
Wait?
He could see me?
"Hey there. Isn't it dangerous to be sitting on a ledge so high up?"
"Almost as dangerous as going barefoot in this cold weather. On a non-pedestrian bridge."
A tight lipped smile stretched across his face.
"Fair enough."
I jumped back down and came to a stop before him. He was even prettier up close. With his high nose, foxy eyes and the cutest little mole underneath one of them.
That didn't change the fact that he looked too ill to be standing.
"Is there a reason you chose to come here like this?"
He nodded.
"You see, you are a complete stranger. Which makes it good, because you aren't biased to me personally. Which further means you can give out your honest opinion."
Weird, but hey, he's the first person I've talked to in... Well, I don't know how long.
I crossed my arms in front of me and gestured for him to continue.
"You see... I'm dying. Like, for real. I have had this autoimmune disease and it's been a pain in my ass for ages now. The doctors don't know what to do anymore. They say I'm not going to be able to walk for much longer, or talk. And everything else that comes with being alive. So, to retaliate, I'm going to jump off of this bridge while I'm still myself. I don't want to die tied to bed."
He took a deep breath after finishing his rambling, and it's to say I'm surprised is an understatement.
I took it all in before looking into his eyes. I could tell he was struggling.
"Listen up good buddy, because you aren't going to believe me. I, for one, can say that death is boring, but bearable. If I was in your shoes, I'd do the same. However, seeing as I'm already dead, I can't really help you. I get the point, but it's a stupid one."
He let out a barking laugh. God, was it annoying.
"Okay, I'm probably already far gone. Or you are just a seriously crazy lady. There is no way you are dead."
Was he calling me a liar?
"I'll have you know I am as dead as it can be. Buried six feet under, white casket and all that jazz." I did like my white casket.
He started shaking his head. "Cut it out, I'm supposed to be the neurotic one."
Before he could move, I went right through his body.
He froze. Slowly, he turned around. His face became even paler than before.
I smirked.
"Told you I was dead."
He stood there, looking at me, mouth wide open.
"But... How? I see you! I know I see you!"
With his finger pointing at me, he couldn't stop fidgeting.
"I know that. I don't have a single clue either. However, you are the first person who's talked to me in months, so I don't want to question it."
"Fair point. Does this mean..."
"There you are!"
I turned around and saw a tall man running towards us. Well, my new friend to be exact.
"We've been worried sick Wooyoung! You can't just leave like that! The nurses are going around the hospital like lunatics. Your mom is in shambles. And you're barefoot, again! Are you insane?"
The boy, Wooyoung, put his hands up in defence.
"Okay, okay. Calm down Mingi. I know it all too well."
Tall man, Mingi, ran straight through me and grabbed Wooyoung by his shoulders. Rude much?
"I'm sorry about the yelling. I'm just glad I found you. Come on, we have to go back, it's freezing out here."
Wooyoung nodded and glanced at me.
"We're going to the Seoul Medical Center, the one across from the main shopping mall?"
Mingi furrowed his eyebrows.
"Why are you being so specific? You know where we're going."
By the look in Wooyoung's eyes I knew that information was for me.
I nodded and waved him off.
"I'll come find you later buddy, go now. You've made a mess out of your friends and family."
Mingi ushered him inside his car and I watched them drive away into the night. Wooyoung turned around and watched me as they disappeared along the road.
"Seems like this isn't going to be so boring after all."
.
.
It's been a few days since my encounter with Wooyoung. The only living person who knows of my existence. I've yet to go visit him in the hospital. I have to admit I'm afraid.
Afraid that all of it was just a moment, and if I appear again, I'll be invisible.
It's also fun to keep men on their toes.
It all came to an end when I found myself in front of his hospital room. It's easy to get the information you need when you are invisible.
I looked into the little window and saw him sitting on his bed, a tray of untouched food beside him. He was gazing at the sunset with a small smile on his face. I took one step inside and cleared my throat.
"Well, here I am. You probably can't hear me anymore. So bye now, it was nice meeting you."
I turned on my heel when he interrupted me.
"Wait."
Shoot. Here we go.
"I hear you. I see you. Don't worry, I'm just spaced out at the moment. This new medication is a pain in my ass."
I nodded and slowly moved towards him.
"Hey I get it. We're not in a normal situation anyway. How have you been? Still thinking about jumping from bridges?"
He snorted a laugh.
"You wish. They've been keeping an eye on me since that night. Security had been notified of my escape plans. Now I have guards surrounding my door at night." He turned to look at me.
"You know, I'm jealous of you."
What? Of me?
I pointed to myself. "You're jealous of a dead girl?"
He nodded. "Yep. You get to do what you want without any consequences. Like, really, you can go anywhere you want, see the world, scare people..."
I put my hands up to stop him.
"Okay. Hold on. You think this is fun? I'm literally a ghost. No one can see me, my family put me into the ground, and I'm constantly levitating. You know how lonely I get?"
He was silent so I continued my rant.
"I've been contemplating for days about visiting you. You are the only thing that made me feel human again. You see me. You hear me. You annoy me as well."
Wooyoung chuckled. "I get that a lot."
"You probably deserve it."
"Put yourself in my shoes for a second. I'm living every day thinking it's my last. My friends keep crying, my family's already planned out my funeral. They are asking me about floral arrangements! They want me to be a part of it, even when I'm dead and cold. I just want to go on my own terms, without this whole ordeal."
"My mom put red roses on my casket even when she knew I liked pink ones better."
He shut his mouth and looked at me in confusion.
"What?"
"What I'm trying to say is, those things don't matter. They want you included because they think it's the only way to make you feel more comfortable about the fact that you are dying."
"I get that. I do. But they are suffocating me."
"Too bad for you then. I'd kill to have conversations like these. Wanna know something funny? More like morbid. They couldn't let my parents see me until they put my head back onto my shoulders. A truck came out of nowhere carrying glass plates. And what do you know? One fell, started an avalanche, I was too drunk and carless and here I am!"
I gestured around me as I stood up.
"You have to get that through your head. Not everyone has a support system like you do."
He looked down at his bare feet.
"I'm sorry you died."
"Yeah, me too."
I sat next to him again. I knew he was at a crossroad. Not a single person in the world would like to be in his shoes now. Death is a tricky bastard. I tried putting my hand on his shoulder, but it went right through.
He shivered. "Woah, that felt weird."
"I guess. Sorry, I don't know why I did that." I gazed out the window while he searched my face with his curious eyes.
"You know, for a ghost, you're really pretty."
I scoffed.
"Yeah, thanks."
I couldn't help but wonder if my cheeks would have flared up at the compliment if I was alive. They probably would. He wasn't so bad to look at, but I can't make myself tell him that.
It felt comfortable, sitting next to him in the silence that followed. It was almost... Normal.
Like he was a guy, I was a girl, we were in the moment, that was it.
"You know you never told me your name?" I turned my head towards him and hummed.
"Yeah, I guess. I'm Y/N. Renowned ghost girl."
I put my hand out for him to shake, even though I knew it was impossible. Still, he reached over and our palms were inches away, doing a make believe handshake.
"Nice to meet you Y/N. You already know who I am. Tell me Y/N, how is ghost life treating you?"
"Well it was rough at first, because I didn't have a clue what happened. After a while it becomes... Boring I suppose. I do have fun going around different places, but I never seem to find any..." I trailed off and looked at my hands.
"I never seem to find peace. It's what I want the most."
Wooyoung sighed. "I guess peace is the one thing everybody's looking for."
"You know, I've met some other ghosts, but only briefly. They all moved on from this in between space faster than me. I don't know what I'm doing here. I've made my piece with the fact that I'm dead. I've said my goodbyes. So I don't know why I'm still here."
"Maybe there is something you haven't done? Think about it. There has to be a thing you didn't do, never had the chance, and now you can't settle."
I blinked at him. Then it came.
"I've never been in love." Wooyoung choked.
"What?"
"I've never loved someone. Sure, I liked the guys I've been with, but there was never a person I've fallen in love with. I didn't think that would set me back so much."
"That kind of makes sense."
"If this is what's holding me back I'm going to be here forever."
"And why is that?"
I looked at him and sighed.
"If you haven't noticed already, I'm dead. No one is going to fall in love with a ghost. But, hey, at least I will get to witness flying cars in the future."
Wooyoung chuckled. "I like your sense of humor. Don't worry about being alone though. Once I'm gone, I'll be at your side looking at the flying cars."
"You want to tell me you've never been in love as well?"
"Never, not once. It's difficult to date people when you are bound to your bed most of the time. They can't handle it."
"Well then, my friend, we are going to have a blast."
Our eyes met and I couldn't quite place the feeling in my chest. It kind of tingles? Wooyoung is a handsome boy, even with the obvious signs of his illness showing. He is also quirky, but in a good way.
He cleared his throat.
"My mom's going to be here soon. She always comes in the late afternoon, says it's the calmest time in the hospital. I want you to stay, but I might feel awkward."
I stood up and went to the door.
"No, no. I get it. I've got places to be anyways. Listen, Wooyoung. Try not to make this time miserable for your parents and friends. This is all they have left with you. Be more positive, okay? I'll be by your side in the meantime. It doesn't hurt to have a friend who knows the ropes, if you get what I mean." I smiled as I gestured around myself. He nodded and watched as I disappeared through the wall.
The cavity in my chest was getting a lot tighter lately, and now it seemed like it was going to suffocate me. Jokes on you, I'm already dead.
.
.
Two days later I went to see him again. I wish I didn't.
He was hooked up on various machines, his face even paler than before. And here I thought I was the ghost.
A nurse was checking his vitals before letting out a sigh and walking outside. I was careful to approach his bed, afraid of disturbing the peace in the room. Once I got closer, I could see just how much worse he looked than the last time I was here.
I carefully sat in the bed and cleared my throat.
"Hey there... You look rough buddy." I shook my head. "Sorry, that was rude. What happened in the last couple of days Wooyoung?"
It was difficult to look at him. I couldn't quite place the feeling in my hollow chest, but it wasn't good.
I knew it was a shot in the dark, but I had the sudden urge to hold his hand. I reached over and lightly placed my fingers in his cold hand.
Wait?
Cold?
I furrowed my eyebrows and squeezed his hand.
I could feel him? I could actually feel his skin?
"Oh my... Wooyoung! It's a miracle, look! I can touch you! Hey, buddy, you've got to wake up. I can't be the only one excited about this."
He was as still as a statue.
"Come on Woo. Wake up and look at me."
He still wasn't giving any signs of waking up, but the beeping of his heart monitor became louder. Soon enough the machine started going loud and crazy. Nurses rushed in and I quickly moved away. As soon as I let go, his heartbeat became normal.
We all looked at him in confusion. Was he actually able to feel me in his unconscious state? The nurses went around, double-checking everything. My eyes were focused on his face. I could see his eyelids fluttering.
Soon enough, he slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at me. The nurse shot a light at his pupils, but he tried moving her away without breaking our gaze.
They fussed around some more while I stood waiting patiently. He never moved his eyes from me.
As soon as the door closed, he let out a tired chuckle.
"So, touching me in my sleep? Very naughty of you Y/N."
I wasn't sure if ghosts could blush, but I sure felt a bit warm.
"Hey, it wasn't like that and you know it."
I came closer and sat on the edge of the bed again.
"Wooyoung. You felt it, didn't you?" He nodded.
"I don't know how this is possible Woo."
He smiled. "I like it when you call me that."
He let out a sigh. "I suppose this is a sign. I am about to die, you know? Maybe the spirit forces and gods want me to get used to it."
His ramblings were far fetched, but kind of made sense.
"Well, I mean... I don't know. But, it's nice to finally feel something real." Without hesitation, I placed my hand on his again. He interlaced our fingers and moved his thumb to caress my hand. I felt slight tingles running through my palm. It felt... Nice. Warm, comforting, everything I've missed since my untimely death.
"You're really cold Y/N. I should get used to that."
I laughed. "Yeah, that's one thing you won't be able to escape. But it's okay, you won't notice it. Or you'll get used to it."
He nodded.
"You know, I'm glad I met you Y/N. At least now I know I won't be so alone once I pass. I think about you when you're not here. It makes me happy I suppose. Now, I do have one request from you."
I could hear his voice getting weaker. I knew he was tired, so I nodded for him to continue.
"Will you wait for me? I know you have the whole world to explore, and maybe you want to move on quicker, but please... Wait for me to come. I don't want to be without you."
He squeezed my hand with the little strength he had, his pleasing gaze almost piercing me.
He wanted me? I've never had someone so desperate for me, since I knew I was nothing special. But Wooyoung thought I was, and that should count for something.
I placed my other hand on his cheek. His eyes widened, but he didn't move away. He almost leaned into my touch.
"I'll wait for you Woo. I can't leave my only friend hanging."
His mouth stretched into a wide smile and he grabbed the hand that was on his cheek, caressing it lightly.
"Thank you, Y/N."
I nodded and untangled myself from him before standing up. I went towards the door and turned around to look at him.
"I'll leave you now, but I'll come back. Rest for now buddy, you've had a rough day." He nodded and waved.
"Bye angel, see you soon."
.
.
Life doesn't care if you are happy. It always finds a way to mess with you. Once you get too comfortable, it slaps you so hard you get whiplash. I don't know if people can die from heartbreak, and I'll never find out as I'm already dead. I suppose it could be possible.
I wasn't happy about the fact that Wooyoung was dying. That's absurd. I was happy that we found each other in our darkest moments, finding comfort in one another. I was imagining what life on the other side would be like once he joined me.
I came to the realisation that I've fallen for him in a way. Being inexperienced in love, and then seeing how good it could feel gave me a wave of happiness.
About three days have passed since I've seen him. I promised I would come back once he got a bit more stable, but I was prepared for the worst.
What I wasn't prepared for is seeing him almost jumping around his room in glee. His cheeks were rosy, his feet no longer bare, and his laugh filled out the room. He looked healthy.
There was a pang of anxiety running through me.
The worst part, he didn't even notice me. The room was full of his friends. I remember the talk one from the night on the bridge. Mingi, was it? The others were called Seonghwa and San. I gathered as much sitting in the corner of the room, watching them interact.
He usually gave me a sign if he knew I was there, but now there was nothing.
It brought me joy to see him so happy, but I had an internal conflict. Didn't we agree to be with each other? Was it so impossible for me to be happy, after everything? I knew my happiness would cost Wooyoung his life, but I was desperate at this point. I couldn't help but accept the fact that he was better, and he no longer stood on death's door.
His friends left after a while and we were alone. He sat on his bed and gazed out the window. He sighed, his smile going down.
"Hey Y/N. I don't know if you're here right now. I don't know if I can see you anymore. Wanna hear something funny? The doctors said my test all came back really positive. After the other night when we held hands, I only got better. I think you helped me in a way. You know, I was actually excited to be with you. I... I think I fell in love with you. Maybe you were a fragment of my imagination? My body isn't exactly in its best condition. Who knows... Thank you Y/N. I want you to find peace." He took a deep breath and shook his head.
"No, wait... I know I might sound insane and selfish, but... I don't want you to go. I want you here. I want you to be here. Why is it so hard for us to be happy? We could've been happy! My God Y/N I can't... I miss you..."
Tears slowly made their way down his face. My eyes stung, but I knew I wasn't able to cry. It broke my non-beating heart to see him like this. He was in complete shambles over me, a ghost. Someone who isn't real anymore.
I slowly approached his side and sat next to him. I made sure we didn't accidentally touch.
"Hey Woo... It's okay buddy. We knew it was impossible from the start. Everything we had was impossible. But it's going to be okay baby. You're going to get even better in time. You'll find a nice, pretty girlfriend. She would have to get used to your sarcasm, but with the amount of charm you possess it won't be difficult. I'm going to miss you, though. You've made me happy these past few weeks. Thank you for that. I might be able to move on finally. I did the thing I've never done before. I fell in love."
I knew he couldn't hear me anymore, but it felt comforting to confess to him.
He was wiping away his tears and smiling. His wanted to place his hand on the bed, but he accidentally put it on my outstretched palm.
Wait.
I quickly moved away and stood up. He shot up as well.
"Y/N? You felt that, didn't you? I knew you were here! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Y/N! Please don't go away, stay with me. Just for a moment longer. Please..."
He crouched down and leaned his back against the wall, sobbing again. It was hard seeing him so distraught.
I sat next to him and slowly leaned my head against his shoulder.
He let out a cry.
"Thank you Y/N... Just for a moment. Be here for just a moment longer."
And so we sat there. The room was quiet, aside from his desperate sobbing. It was as bittersweet as it gets.
He calmed down after some time and I felt his breathing get even. He fell asleep with his head against mine.
I slowly stood up and made him comfortable on the floor. I didn't have the strength to move him to the bed, so this would have to do.
I moved his hair out of his eyes, caressing his cheek and that cute little mole he had. I slowly leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"I wish you all the best Woo. I'll see you, someday. Goodbye."
With that, I disappeared into the night.
.
.
The view from the bridge was the same as that fateful night. The flowing water from bellow was calming my mind though. It brought me a sense of tranquility. It's been a week since I've said my goodbyes to Wooyoung in the hospital. It's been difficult to say the least. I can't stop thinking about him, our late night conversations in his hospital bed, the promises we've made.
I knew it was selfish of me, but I was sad, so I allowed myself to be selfish for a moment.
I couldn't bring myself to visit him anymore. It would be too difficult. I knew he had enough of a support system beside him.
I couldn't help but wonder if he missed me as much as I missed him. I'm a smart girl. I know he will find someone to fill up the space in his heart again. He will have a big family house, Christmas morning in front of the fireplace, with a fluffy dog sitting in the corner.
I want my dream to become his because I know he can make it true. That's all I needed to make peace with the situation.
There was a light ahead of me. Somewhere down the river, shining so bright it could hurt your eyes. I knew what it was as well, but I couldn't bring myself to cross over.
The universe thought I was ready, but I wanted a couple more minutes to take everything in.
"Sitting on the bridge, again? You know if you jump you won't die, so what exactly is the point?"
I froze. Not only am I a ghost, I am an insane ghost.
"What? You won't look at me anymore? I know we had some bumps in the road Y/N, but I thought we had a connection, you know?"
I slowly turned to my left, and there he was.
Standing in all his glory, dressed to perfection, with his eyes no longer tired but mischievous.
"Wooyoung?"
He smiled. "Hey there. Long time no see."
I jumped down and took a couple of steps towards him.
"How in God's name is this happening? Woo? Are you... Dead?"
He nodded.
"Burried six feet under and all that jazz."
My eyes widened.
"But how? You were better! Wooyoung! You didn't do anything stupid, right?"
He put his hands on his hips in a sassy manner.
"Hey, that was one time. Do you have that little faith in me? I died completely naturally, I'll have you know. The doctors told my parents I had a jump before the big fall. That usually happens to patients who are on their deathbed. Had me fooled though, I thought I was going to be miserable for the rest of my life."
In a second his hands were around my waist, squeezing me in a hug.
"But I can't say that I mind now. I knew my time was done, and I've made my peace. What I couldn't make peace with was not seeing you for the rest of my life."
My arms went around his shoulders and you couldn't tell who's grip was tighter.
"Wooyoung, I'm so sorry..."
He took my face into his hands and put our foreheads together.
"Hey now, don't be sad. I told you, I've made my peace. I'm okay. I've said my goodbyes. I've made floral arrangements with my mom. All is well."
I chuckled and nodded.
"So now what?" He smirked.
"Now I kiss the shit out of you."
With that, he crashed his lips onto mine. We didn't know where to hold onto anymore, moving our hands around, feeling every inch of each other. The kiss was desperate, full of unspoken emotions that were begging to be let out.
It's a good thing we don't need to come up for air, because we couldn't stop ourselves.
After what felt like ages, our lips disconnected and our eyes met. He smiled.
"I love you Y/N. I hope you know how much you mean to me."
I smiled as well. "I love you to Woo."
A bright light appeared before us. He looked at me before grabbing my hand.
"I think this is our sign Y/N. Are you ready to spend eternity with me?"
I nodded. We turned towards the light and started walking.
synopsis: a quiet, secretive serial killer named seonghwa becomes obsessed with y/n, a girl whose genuine happiness he can’t stand, and begins stalking her with the intent to kill her; however, as he watches her and slowly inserts himself into her life, her unexpected calmness and kindness begin to unravel him, forcing him to confront emotions he’s never felt before, until his plan to destroy her turns into a dangerous attachment that blurs the line between fear, control, and love
genre: thriller, fluff(?)
pairing: serial killer!seonghwa x reader
word count: 2k
notes: this is my first post on this account! i hope you enjoy. also this was entirely inspired by @ihaveamassivegun 's stray kids - dear y/n series. so full creds to her, i love her writing. not proofread so sorry for any spelling mistakes!
the first time seonghwa noticed you, it wasn’t anything dramatic.
no thunder. no cinematic slow motion. no ominous music swelling in the background. just a laugh.
you were standing outside a convenience store, sunlight spilling over your shoulders, head tilted back slightly as if the world had just told you a secret worth keeping. the sound of your laughter, light, unguarded, almost careless, cut through the noise of passing cars and murmuring voices.
seonghwa stopped walking.
he didn’t mean to. his body simply refused to move forward.
because you were… happy.
it wasn’t a fleeting smile or a polite social gesture. it was something deeper. something that lived in your bones. something real.
and seonghwa hated it.
he told himself that was why he followed you. not curiosity. not fascination. certainly not longing.
just necessity. a correction. seonghwa had always believed happiness was a flaw in the human design. a weakness. people who felt too much joy were careless, blind to the rot underneath everything. they trusted too easily. they laughed too loudly. they lived like nothing could ever touch them.
they were wrong. and seonghwa liked to fix things that were wrong.
the first night he followed you home, you didn’t notice him. of course you didn’t. you walked through the quiet streets with earbuds in, humming softly under your breath. every now and then, you’d look up at the sky like you expected the stars to look back at you.
seonghwa stayed just far enough behind, always in shadow. always out of reach.
he noted everything. the rhythm of your steps, the way you checked your phone every few minutes, the slight pause before you crossed the street even when no cars were coming.
habits. patterns. weaknesses.
you lived alone. that made things easier. he didn’t break in that night. seonghwa wasn’t impulsive, he didn’t rush. every act required precision, patience, intention.
instead, he stood across the street, watching your apartment window. your silhouette moved behind the curtains. slow. ordinary. unaware. alive. his fingers twitched slightly.
soon.
days passed, then weeks.
seonghwa learned everything about you without ever speaking a word.
you woke up at 7:12 every morning. not 7:10. not 7:15. always 7:12. you liked your coffee too sweet. you worked at a small bookstore, the kind that smelled like paper and dust and comfort.
you talked to customers like they mattered. you smiled at strangers. you smiled a lot, it irritated him more than it should have.
he started following you more closely. closer than necessary. sometimes just a few steps behind. close enough to hear the soft sound of your breathing when you stood still. close enough to notice the way your shoulders tensed slightly when someone brushed past you.
you weren’t as unaware as he first thought. that made it interesting.
The first time you almost saw him, it was raining. you stood under the awning of the bookstore, waiting for the storm to pass. your hair clung slightly to your face, and you looked smaller somehow. more human.
seonghwa stood across the street, half-hidden behind a lamppost. you glanced up.
for a moment—just a moment—your eyes met his.
something flickered across your expression. not recognition. not fear. just curiosity. then a car passed between you, and when the view cleared, you were gone.
seonghwa didn’t move for a long time.
that night, he changed the plan. originally, it was simple. quick. clean. efficient.
you would disappear like all the others. no trace. no story. just another quiet correction in a broken world.
but now…
now he wanted to understand you first. he started leaving things. small things.
a flower on your doorstep. a book you had mentioned wanting, placed carefully near your window. a note once— just a single word:
“smile.”
you found them. he watched you find them. the confusion. the hesitation. the slight unease creeping into your expression.
but you didn’t stop smiling. even then. especially then. it made something in his chest tighten.
you told someone about it.
he saw you talking on the phone one night, pacing your apartment. your voice was soft, but he could read your lips.
“it’s weird, but," you paused for a moment "not scary.”
seonghwa tilted his head slightly. not scary? you should have been afraid. you should have locked your doors, closed your curtains, changed your routine. but you didn’t.
you kept living like the world was kind. like nothing was watching you. like nothing ever would. he broke into your apartment three nights later.
not to kill you. not yet. just to see.
you were asleep. curled slightly on your side, one arm tucked under your pillow. your breathing was steady, peaceful. seonghwa stood at the foot of your bed. this was the moment.
it always felt the same. stillness. control. the quiet certainty that someone’s life was balanced delicately in his hands.
he had done this before. many times. different faces, different homes, same ending. but this time he didn’t move.
you looked fragile. not weak. just… real.
there was a faint crease between your brows, like you were dreaming about something that mattered. something unresolved. people like you weren’t supposed to have that.
you were supposed to be simple. happy. untouched by the darker edges of the world. but maybe he had been wrong.
your hand shifted slightly in your sleep.
seonghwa froze.
you murmured something under your breath and he leaned closer without thinking.
“stay…” the word was soft. barely there. but it hit him harder than anything else ever had. stay? you weren’t talking to him. you couldn’t have been and yet his chest felt tight again. uncomfortable. unfamiliar. he left without touching you.
that was the first time he failed to complete something he had started. he told himself it didn’t matter, it was just a delay. just adjustment.
but the next time he entered your apartment, he stayed longer. and the next time after that, even longer. he learned the quiet sounds of your space. the hum of your refrigerator. the creak of the floor near your window. the soft rhythm of your breathing as you slept.
he sat in your chair once. touched the spine of your favourite book. ran his fingers lightly over the edge of your desk. everything about your life felt warm, messy, alive. it made his skin feel too tight.
you started noticing things. objects slightly out of place, the faint scent of something unfamiliar, a window that didn’t quite latch the way it used to.
this time, when you spoke on the phone, your expression was different.
“i think someone’s been in here.”
seonghwa watched from across the street. our voice trembled slightly.
finally.
fear.
that was how it was supposed to be. but even then you didn’t leave. instead, you changed. subtly.
you locked your doors more carefully. checked your windows twice. paused longer before turning off the lights.
but you still smiled, still laughed, still lived. it confused him. no, it frustrated him. you were supposed to break that was how this worked. that was how it always worked.
the night everything changed, you were awake when he entered. seonghwa didn’t realize it at first.
you lay still in bed, facing away from him, your breathing slow and even. he stepped closer, silent, careful controlled.
“are you going to keep watching or finally say something?” your voice cut through the darkness. calm, clear, not afraid.
seonghwa stopped and for the first time in years, he didn’t know what to do.
you sat up slowly, turning to face him. the room was dim, but not dark enough to hide him completely.
your eyes met his. no panic, no screaming. just... understanding.
“i knew it,” you said softly. silence stretched between you. heavy. unsteady.
“you’ve been following me for weeks,” you continued. “the gifts, the notes, the presence.” a small pause.
“Why?”
seonghwa opened his mouth. closed it again.
why? he had never needed a reason before. not one he could explain.
“…you were too happy,” he said finally. the words sounded strange out loud, even to him.
you blinked “…what?”
“you shouldn’t be,” he continued, his voice steadier now. “people like you… it’s not real, it doesn’t last.”
a faint crease formed between your brows "you were going to kill me because i smile too much?”
“yes.”
the honesty hung in the air like something fragile, breakable.
and then you laughed, not loudly, not mockingly, just softly. almost incredulously.
“that’s” you shook your head slightly. “that’s the worst reason i’ve ever heard.”
seonghwa frowned "you’re not afraid.”
“i probably should be,” you admitted. “but you’ve had so many chances. you didn’t take them.”
his jaw tightened "that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
you studied him for a moment, really looked at him, not the shadow, not the threat. him.
“you don’t want to,” you said quietly. the words hit harder than they should have. seonghwa stepped closer "you don’t know anything about me.”
“then tell me,” you replied. another pause, longer this time.
“i don’t feel things,” he said finally. you tilted your head slightly "everyone feels things.”
“not like you.”
silence again. you shifted slightly on the bed, pulling your knees closer “…what if i showed you?” his expression hardened, "that’s not how it works.”
“then why are you still here?”
he didn’t have an answer, and that terrified him more than anything else ever had.
days turned into something else after that, not normal, not safe, but different.
seonghwa didn’t stop watching you. but now sometimes, you watched him back. you started leaving things too, cup of coffee on the windowsill, a note: "you should try this. it’s too sweet but you might like it.”
he didn’t touch it the first time. or the second.
but the third time he did.
it was too sweet just like you said and for some reason he didn’t hate it. he still told himself this would end. it had to. people like him didn’t change, didn’t soften, didn’t fall.
but every time you smiled at him. really smiled, like you weren’t afraid of what he was something inside him shifted, just slightly. just enough.
the night he realized it, he was standing in your apartment again. you were awake sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading.
you didn’t look up when he entered. “you’re late,” you said.
late. like he was expected.
like he belonged.
seonghwa exhaled slowly "i was going to kill you.” you turned the page, "i know.”
“I still might.”
you finally looked up and smiled, "then why haven’t you?” he stepped closer. closer than ever before. close enough to see the tiny details in your expression. the softness, the warmth, the life.
“because you make me feel something,” he said quietly.
your smile didn’t fade "good,” you replied. and for the first time in his life, seonghwa wasn’t sure if that was a good thing,
or the most dangerous thing that had ever happened to him.
You were supposed to tell him that night. You had practiced it a hundred times in your head, soft and careful and full of hope. But he didn’t even let you speak.
One fight. One sentence. One moment where everything broke. And just like that, you left.
Five years later, you come back with a life he knows nothing about. A daughter he has never met and a past that was never really over.
Pairing: Choi San x Reader (Y/N)
Tropes: idol au, secret child, second chance (but painful), lovers to strangers to…?, miscommunication (heavy), unresolved feelings, accidental reunion, angst with eventual healing
Genre: angst (primary), romance, drama, slice of life
Featuring: ATEEZ, Heewa (as mini San 🥲), original side character
Main Masterlist | Sans Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
This is Part 1
She remembers the waiting more than anything else.
Not the fight. Not even the words that came later and carved themselves into her bones. It was the waiting that stayed with her. The kind that stretched time into something unbearable, where every second felt too loud, too slow, too aware of itself.
The apartment was too quiet.
It always was when he wasn’t there.
Y/N sat on the edge of the couch, her hands folded tightly in her lap. Fingers pressing into each other hard enough to hurt. She had been sitting like that for longer than she could tell. Minutes had stopped meaning anything. The only thing she could track was the ticking clock on the wall and the way her chest rose and fell a little too fast, a little too shallow.
She had tried to distract herself earlier.
Tried cleaning. Tried scrolling through her phone. Tried watching something meaningless just to fill the silence.
None of it worked.
Because everything kept coming back to the same thought.
I have to tell him.
Her hand moved almost unconsciously, resting lightly against her stomach. It wasn’t something visible. There was no difference from the outside. Nothing that would give it away.
But she knew.
And that was enough to change everything.
A week.
It had been one week since she found out.
Seven days of carrying something that felt too big for her alone. Seven days of rehearsing conversations in her head. Seven days of imagining his reaction, over and over again. Until every version blurred into something she could no longer trust.
At first, she had been scared.
Then overwhelmed.
Then… hopeful.
Because maybe this could fix things.
Maybe this would be the thing that pulled them back together. The thing that reminded him of who they used to be before everything became so complicated, so strained, so exhausting.
Before every conversation felt like it was one wrong word away from turning into a fight.
She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a moment.
Five years.
They had been together for five years.
Before the fame. Before the stage lights. Before anyone knew his name beyond a small circle of people who believed in him and his dream.
She had been there when it was just that. A dream.
Late nights in cramped rooms. Music playing too loudly through cheap speakers. Him pacing back and forth, frustrated and determined in the same breath. Her sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching him with quiet admiration as he tried to shape something out of nothing.
Back then, things had been simple.
Not easy, but simple.
He used to come to her after long days and collapse beside her, head falling against her shoulder like he could finally breathe again.
He used to look at her like she was something steady in a world that never stopped moving.
And she had believed him when he said they would get through everything together.
She swallowed hard.
Because somewhere along the way, that changed.
The last year had been… different.
Not in one sudden, obvious way. It didn’t happen overnight. It was slower than that. Subtle enough that she hadn’t noticed at first. Or maybe she had, and she just didn’t want to admit it.
It started with small things.
Cancelled plans.
Late replies.
“I’m busy” turning into “I’ll call you later” turning into nothing at all.
She had told herself it was normal.
Of course it was. His life had changed. Everything had changed. He was working harder than ever, chasing something he had wanted for so long.
She wanted to be understanding.
She tried to be.
But understanding didn’t stop the feeling that had slowly settled into her chest.
The feeling of being… left behind.
It wasn’t just that he wasn’t there.
It was that when he was there, it didn’t feel the same anymore.
Conversations that used to flow easily now felt forced. Silences stretched too long. And when she tried to talk about it, really talk about it, it always ended the same way.
With both of them frustrated.
With both of them saying things they didn’t mean.
With both of them walking away feeling worse than before.
She shifted slightly on the couch, her gaze drifting toward the door.
He was late.
Again.
Her fingers tightened together.
She shouldn’t be surprised. She wasn’t. It had become something she expected now, even if a part of her still hoped, every time, that maybe today would be different.
That maybe today he would come home, see her, and just… be happy to see her.
She let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly, her head resting against the couch.
Tonight will be different.
It had to be.
Because tonight, she wasn’t going to argue. She wasn’t going to bring up everything that had been building for months. She wasn’t going to let it turn into another exhausting cycle of raised voices and half-finished sentences.
She just needed to tell him.
That was all.
And then maybe… they could find their way back.
The sound of the door unlocking made her sit up immediately.
Her heart jumped, her body going tense without her meaning it to.
For a brief second, something soft flickered through her chest.
Relief.
He was home.
The door opened, and Choi San stepped inside.
He looked tired.
His shoulders were slightly slumped, movements slower than usual. His hair was still styled from whatever schedule he had just come from. But it was slightly messy now, like he had run his hands through it too many times. His eyes looked heavy, shadows faint beneath them.
He kicked off his shoes absentmindedly, stepping further into the apartment.
Then he saw her.
And everything shifted.
It was subtle, but she saw it immediately.
The way his posture stiffened.
The way his expression changed.
Not surprise.
Not relief.
Something else.
Something that made her chest tighten.
“Y/N?”
There was a pause.
She opened her mouth, a small, nervous smile forming on her lips.
“I was waiting for you.”
She tried to keep her voice soft. Careful. Like she was approaching something fragile.
For a split second, she thought maybe it would be okay.
Maybe...
He sighed.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Enough to make something in her stomach drop.
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes closing briefly as if he was already bracing himself.
“Can this not be another argument right now?”
The words landed before she could even process them.
Her smile faltered.
“What?”
“I just got back,” he continued, his voice tired, strained. “I had a long day. I really don’t have the energy for this tonight.”
For this.
She stared at him, something like disbelief flickering across her face.
“I didn’t even say anything yet.”
He let out a quiet, humorless breath, like that didn’t matter.
“Y/N, please. Every time we talk lately it turns into something.”
Something.
That was what it was to him now.
Not a conversation.
Not her feelings.
Just… something.
She felt her fingers curl slightly against her palms.
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“And I’m telling you I’m tired.”
His tone wasn’t loud. That almost made it worse.
It was flat. Dismissive.
Like he had already decided how this was going to go before she even had a chance to say anything.
Her chest tightened.
“I’ve been waiting all day.”
“I didn’t ask you to wait.”
That one hit.
She blinked, taken aback for a moment, like she wasn’t sure if she had heard him right.
“I know you didn’t,” she said slowly. “I wanted to.”
“Then don’t get upset about it.”
Something cracked.
It was small.
But it was there.
“I’m not upset about waiting,” she said, her voice a little sharper now despite her effort to keep it steady. “I just… I wanted to see you.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Because yes.
He was here.
But it didn’t feel like it.
The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable.
He moved past her, dropping his bag onto the chair, rubbing his face with both hands like he was trying to shake off the day.
She watched him.
And suddenly, the words she had been holding onto all week felt… fragile.
Like they didn’t belong in this moment anymore.
But she couldn’t just not say them.
Not after everything.
“San…”
Her voice was softer now.
Careful again.
He stilled slightly at the sound of his name, but he didn’t turn around.
“What?”
There was something about the way he said it.
Short.
Impatient.
Like she was already asking for too much.
She swallowed.
“I need you to listen to me for a second.”
“I am listening.”
“You’re not even looking at me.”
He exhaled sharply, turning around then, his expression already edged with frustration.
“Okay. I’m looking. What is it?”
Her heart was beating too fast.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
She had imagined this moment so many times.
None of those versions looked like this.
She hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
“Is this about me being busy again?” he asked, his voice tightening. “Because I already told you I can’t just drop everything...”
“It’s not just that,” she interrupted, a little more urgently than she meant to.
“Then what is it?” he shot back. “Because it’s always something lately.”
The words settled between them like something heavy.
Her breath caught.
Always something.
She looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, she didn’t recognize the way he was looking back at her.
Like this was a burden.
Like she was.
Her fingers trembled slightly where they rested in her lap.
“I’m not trying to start a fight.”
“It feels like you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why does it always end like this?”
“Because you don’t listen to me,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Silence.
Sharp.
Immediate.
His expression hardened.
“I am listening.”
“You’re not hearing me.”
“What do you want me to hear?” he asked, his voice rising just slightly now. “That I’m not doing enough? That I’m not here enough? I know that already.”
“That’s not what I’m saying—”
“Then what are you saying?”
Her chest felt tight.
Too tight.
“I just feel like I don’t matter anymore.”
The words were quiet.
But they hit.
He stared at her.
For a second, something flickered in his eyes.
Something softer.
Something that almost looked like guilt.
And then it was gone.
Replaced by frustration.
“Why does it always come back to this?” he asked, running a hand through his hair again. “You know how much pressure I’m under right now. You know how hard this is.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I’m not saying it’s not—”
“Then why can’t you just understand that I can’t always be here?”
“I’m not asking you to be here all the time!”
“Then what are you asking for?”
She opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Because suddenly, she didn’t know how to explain it in a way he would understand.
“I just… I miss you,” she said finally.
And for a moment, everything stilled.
But instead of softening, something in him seemed to snap.
“I’m right here.”
“No,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “You’re not.”
That did it.
Something in his expression shifted completely.
Frustration turning into something sharper.
“I don’t have the energy for this,” he said, his voice colder now. “I just got back, and this is the first thing you bring up?”
“I wasn’t trying to fight...”
“Then what is it?” he snapped, frustration finally breaking through. “Because it’s always the same lately. You’re upset, I’m not doing enough, I’m not here enough...”
“That’s not what I’m saying...”
“Then what are you saying?” he cut in, his voice sharper now, tiredness turning into something harsher. “Because I can’t keep dealing with you every time I come home.”
She froze slightly at that. “Dealing with me?”
“Yes,” he gestured vaguely toward her, his expression strained. “Your mood swings. One day you’re fine, the next you’re distant, then suddenly everything’s a problem again. I don’t know what you want from me.”
The words landed harder than he intended.
Her fingers tightened at her sides. “My mood swings?”
“I didn’t mean it like that...”
“But you said it.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I just...if you’re this unhappy with me all the time, then what are we even doing?”
She stared at him.
And then he said it.
Quiet, but clear.
“Maybe we should just break up.”
The words rang in the air.
Too loud.
Too harsh.
She flinched.
Just slightly.
But he saw it.
And for a split second, he hesitated.
But it was already too late.
Her eyes dropped for a moment, her breathing uneven.
And then she went quiet.
Not the kind of quiet they were used to.
Not the tense, waiting kind.
This was different.
Still.
Final.
She looked back up at him.
And something in her expression had changed.
“I see.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
He frowned slightly.
“What does that mean?”
She shook her head a little.
“Nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s clearly not...”
“I said it’s fine.”
He stared at her.
Confused now.
Thrown off.
Because this wasn’t how it usually went.
She wasn’t arguing.
She wasn’t pushing back.
She wasn’t trying to make him understand.
She was just… stopping.
And that unsettled him more than anything else.
“Y/N…”
She stood up.
Her movements were quiet, controlled.
“I think you’re right.”
His brows furrowed.
“About what?”
She looked at him.
And for the first time, there was distance in her eyes.
Real distance.
“Maybe this isn’t working anymore.”
The words hit harder than anything else that had been said that night.
His expression shifted immediately.
“What?”
“I mean it,” she continued, her voice steady despite the way her chest felt like it was caving in. “I don’t think we’re good for each other right now.”
“Where is this coming from?” he asked, taking a step toward her. “We just...this is just another argument. We’ve had worse.”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“We’ve had worse,” she repeated softly. “And we keep having worse.”
“That doesn’t mean we just...what are you saying right now?”
“I’m saying I think we should stop.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“No.”
The word came out immediately.
Firm.
Shaken.
“No, we’re not doing that.”
She looked at him, something aching in her chest.
“I am.”
“Y/N—”
“I’m tired, San.”
Her voice cracked slightly on his name.
“I’m so tired of feeling like this.”
“We can fix this.”
“We’ve been saying that for a year.”
“That doesn’t mean we give up.”
“I’m not giving up,” she said quietly. “I’m letting go.”
He shook his head, stepping closer.
“No. No, you don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“You’re just upset right now. You know I didn't mean it.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why now?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly. “Why like this?”
Because you didn’t even let me speak.
Because I was going to tell you something that would’ve changed everything.
Because you already decided I was a problem before I could even open my mouth.
The words stayed in her throat.
She couldn’t say them.
Not anymore.
Because suddenly… they didn’t feel safe there.
“I just know I can’t keep doing this,” she said instead.
He stared at her like he didn’t recognize her.
“Don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I am.”
“Y/N—”
“I’ll come back for the rest of my things later.”
And that was when it really hit him.
“You’re serious.”
She nodded.
And something in his chest dropped.
“No,” he said again, softer this time. “No, we’re not ending this over one fight.”
“It’s not one fight.”
“Then we’ll fix it.”
“We tried.”
“We can try again.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t have it in me anymore.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“Then I’ll try harder,” he said quickly. “I will. I swear. Just...don’t do this. Don't leave me, please.”
Her eyes softened for a second.
Because part of her wanted to believe him.
Part of her always would.
But another part… the part that had been hurting for so long… knew better.
“I needed you to listen tonight,” she said quietly.
“I’m listening now.”
She smiled faintly.
“It’s too late.”
And then she turned away.
He reached for her.
“Y/N, wait—”
But she stepped back.
Just enough.
“I’m sorry.”
And then she walked past him.
Toward the door.
Toward the end of something that had once meant everything.
Her hand brushed against her stomach as she reached for the handle.
A small, instinctive movement.
One he didn’t notice.
She paused for just a second.
Just one.
And in that moment, she almost turned around.
Almost told him.
Almost gave him the chance to know.
But then his words echoed in her head.
I can’t keep doing this with you.
Her grip tightened.
And then she opened the door.
And left.
Without ever telling him… that he wasn’t just losing her.
The city felt different.
Y/N noticed it the moment she stepped out of the subway that morning, her daughter’s small hand wrapped tightly around her fingers. Seoul had always been loud, fast, restless in a way that never truly allowed anyone to stand still. Five years ago, it had swallowed her whole. Back then, it felt overwhelming, unpredictable, almost suffocating.
Now, it felt… steady.
Or maybe she was the one who had changed.
“Heewa, slow down.”
The little girl beside her was practically bouncing with excitement, her free hand swinging as she tried to keep up with her own enthusiasm more than with her mother’s pace.
“But we’re gonna be late,” Heewa insisted, her voice bright and slightly breathless as she half-skipped over a crack in the pavement.
“We’re not late,” Y/N replied, smiling despite herself. “We’re early.”
“That’s basically the same thing.”
Y/N let out a quiet laugh under her breath, shaking her head. “It really isn’t.”
Heewa huffed softly, though there was no real frustration behind it. Her attention was already drifting, dark eyes widening as she took in everything around her like it was all new, even though they had been walking this same route for two months now.
Two months.
It still felt strange to think about.
Two months since she moved back.
Two months since she stepped into a life that was entirely her own.
For years, she had stayed in her hometown, tucked away in something quieter, something safer. Living with her parents had been the right decision back then. She had needed the support, the stability, the extra set of hands when everything felt like too much.
Especially in the beginning.
Her grip on Heewa’s hand tightened slightly without her noticing.
Those first months had been the hardest.
Learning how to be a mother while still trying to hold herself together. Nights where sleep didn’t come, where the silence felt heavier than anything else. Days where she questioned every decision she had made.
And through all of it, one thought had lingered quietly in the background.
Should I have told him?
Even now, it still came back sometimes.
Uninvited. Unwanted.
She pushed it away like she always did.
Because no matter how much it lingered, the answer never really changed.
No.
It had been the best decision.
It had to be.
He was living a completely different life now.
A life that didn’t have space for something like this.
For her.
For… them.
Her gaze shifted slightly, settling on the little girl beside her.
Heewa was still talking, something about a new friend she hoped would be in her class today, her words spilling over each other in a way that made it hard to follow every detail.
Y/N listened anyway.
She always did.
Because this… this was her life now.
And despite everything, despite the past that still lingered at the edges of her thoughts, she had built something good.
Something steady.
Something real.
They reached the kindergarten a few minutes later, the familiar building coming into view. Bright colors, small decorations near the entrance, the sound of children already playing somewhere inside.
Heewa’s grip tightened excitedly.
“Can I go now?”
Y/N laughed softly. “You still have to say goodbye to me first.”
The girl turned to her immediately, her expression suddenly serious as she stepped closer. “Okay.”
Y/N crouched down in front of her, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her daughter’s face.
And for a moment, she just… looked at her.
It still caught her off guard sometimes.
How much Heewa looked like him.
It wasn’t just one feature.
It was everything.
The shape of her eyes. The way they curved slightly when she smiled. The dark color of them, bright and expressive in a way that felt so familiar it almost hurt.
Even the way she tilted her head sometimes, just slightly, when she was curious about something.
A small, unintentional mirror of someone she hadn’t seen in five years.
Y/N swallowed the thought before it could settle too deeply.
“You’re going to have fun today, okay?” she said gently.
Heewa nodded eagerly. “I will.”
“And you’ll listen to your teacher?”
“Yes.”
“And be nice to the other kids?”
“I’m always nice.”
Y/N raised a brow slightly. “Always?”
Heewa hesitated.
“…Most of the time.”
“That’s better.”
They both smiled.
Then Heewa leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s neck in a quick, tight hug.
“I’ll tell you everything later,” she promised.
“I’m counting on it.”
The girl pulled back, already turning toward the entrance before Y/N could say anything else.
“Bye, Mama!”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
Y/N watched her go, the small figure disappearing inside with a burst of energy that made her chest feel warm.
And just a little heavy.
She stayed there for a moment longer than necessary.
Then she stood, exhaling quietly before turning away.
There was work to do.
And for the first time in a long time… she didn’t dread it.
The office was small.
That had been one of the reasons she felt comfortable accepting the job.
A small marketing firm, nothing too overwhelming, nothing too demanding in a way that would pull her back into the kind of life she had deliberately stepped away from.
It was enough.
Enough to give her structure. Enough to give her purpose.
Enough to remind her that she was more than just… surviving.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
She greeted her coworkers as she stepped inside, setting her bag down at her desk, already slipping into a routine that had become familiar over the past two months.
There was something grounding about it.
The quiet hum of computers. The low conversations. The soft clatter of keyboards.
It was simple.
And she liked that.
“Y/N.”
She looked up at the sound of her name, her boss standing near her desk with a folder in hand.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Of course.”
She stood, stepping closer as he handed her the file.
“We’ve got a new assignment,” he explained. “It’s a short-term campaign. Starts tomorrow.”
She nodded, flipping the folder open, scanning the first few pages.
“A brand collaboration?” she asked.
“Exactly. They want something fresh. A new angle. You’ll be working on the initial concept.”
“Got it.”
Her eyes moved over the details, taking in the scope of the project.
It wasn’t small.
But it wasn’t overwhelming either.
Just… interesting.
“A K-pop group?” she noted, glancing up briefly.
“Yeah. Probably not one of the huge ones, so don’t worry,” he added with a small smile. “We wouldn’t get that kind of contract anyway. We didn't get a lot information yet.”
She let out a quiet laugh.
“Right.”
That made sense.
This firm wasn’t big enough for something like that.
So there was no reason to worry.
No reason to overthink.
She looked back down at the file, her mind already shifting into focus.
“Alright,” she said, nodding slightly. “I’ll start working on some ideas today.”
“Perfect. I’ll check in later.”
He walked off, leaving her with the folder and a sense of something… new.
Excitement, maybe.
Or just… purpose.
She sat back down, opening her laptop, the familiar rhythm of work settling in quickly.
Ideas came easier than she expected.
She let herself get lost in it.
Concepts. Visual directions. Messaging angles.
Time passed without her noticing.
And for once, her mind didn’t drift back to the past.
Didn’t linger on things she couldn’t change.
It stayed here.
Present.
Focused.
Alive in a way that felt unfamiliar, but welcome.
Maybe this was what it felt like to move forward.
By the time she left work, the sky had already started to dim.
She checked the time as she stepped outside, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.
Right on schedule.
The walk to the kindergarten felt shorter this time.
Or maybe she was just more tired.
Either way, by the time she reached the familiar building, the last of the children were already being picked up.
She spotted Heewa almost immediately.
Sitting on a small bench near the entrance, legs swinging slightly as she waited.
The moment she saw Y/N, her face lit up.
“Mama!”
She jumped up, running toward her without hesitation.
Y/N barely had time to brace herself before she was wrapped in a hug.
“Hey,” she murmured softly, returning it just as tightly. “Did you have a good day?”
“The best day.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
Y/N smiled, pulling back slightly. “Tell me everything.”
And Heewa did.
The entire walk home.
Every detail.
Every new friend. Every game. Every small moment that felt important in her world.
Y/N listened.
She always did.
Because these were the moments she didn’t want to miss.
Dinner was simple.
Nothing complicated. Just something warm, something easy after a long day.
They sat across from each other at the small table in their apartment, the soft glow of the kitchen light filling the space.
Heewa swung her legs slightly under the chair, still talking between bites.
And for a while, everything felt… normal.
Comfortable.
Safe.
“Mama?”
Y/N looked up.
“Hmm?”
Heewa hesitated.
Just slightly.
“Do I have a dad? The other kids have one.”
The question was soft.
Careful.
But it landed harder than anything else that day.
Y/N’s hand stilled for a moment.
Just a moment.
Then she set her chopsticks down gently.
She had known this would come eventually.
It wasn’t the first time.
And it wouldn’t be the last.
She looked at her daughter.
Really looked at her.
At the familiar eyes. The familiar expression.
The quiet curiosity.
And something in her chest tightened.
“You do,” she said softly.
Heewa blinked. “Where is he?”
Y/N swallowed.
Carefully.
Choosing her words the way she always did.
“He lives far away.”
“Why?”
Because I left.
Because I didn’t tell him.
Because I thought it was the right thing to do.
“Because… our lives are different,” she said instead.
Heewa frowned slightly. “Does he know me?”
The question lingered.
Heavy.
Y/N felt something twist in her chest.
But her expression stayed gentle.
“He would like you very much,” she said quietly.
That wasn’t a lie.
It never was.
Heewa seemed to think about that, her expression softening slightly.
“Is he nice?”
Y/N smiled.
A real one this time.
“Yes,” she said. “He is.”
And that, more than anything, was the truth she held onto.
No matter what had happened.
No matter how things ended.
She would never take that away from him.
Or from her.
Heewa nodded slowly, satisfied enough with the answer for now.
“Okay.”
She went back to eating.
And the moment passed.
But Y/N stayed still for a second longer.
Her gaze drifting slightly.
Unfocused.
Because even after five years…
Some things never really left.
They just became quieter.
Easier to carry.
Until moments like this reminded her that they were still there.
Still waiting.
Still part of her.
She exhaled slowly.
Then picked up her chopsticks again.
“Eat your vegetables,” she said gently.
Heewa groaned dramatically.
And just like that life continued.
Morning came too fast.
Y/N barely noticed how her alarm blended into the quiet hum of the apartment, her body already used to waking before it even rang. For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing beside her.
Heewa had climbed into her bed sometime during the night.
She always did that on days when she had something exciting coming up.
Y/N turned her head slightly, watching the small rise and fall of her daughter’s chest, the way her hair was spread messily across the pillow. There was something grounding about moments like this. Something that made everything else feel… manageable.
“Wake up, sleepyhead,” she murmured softly, brushing her fingers gently through Heewa’s hair.
A small groan.
“No…”
Y/N smiled faintly. “You said you wanted to be early again today.”
One eye opened.
“…I did?”
“You did.”
Heewa blinked slowly, then suddenly sat up, fully awake.
“I did!”
Y/N laughed quietly, pushing herself up as well. “Come on. Get ready.”
The morning passed in small, familiar steps.
Getting dressed. Packing her bag. Making sure she had everything she needed. Listening to Heewa talk about something that made very little sense this early in the morning, but still nodding along like it was the most important story in the world.
It was easy.
Simple.
And for the most part… peaceful.
The walk to the kindergarten felt lighter than the day before. Maybe because her mind was already half at work, running through ideas, plans, the outline of the presentation she had been building since yesterday.
She had stayed up a little later than usual, refining it.
Not because she had to.
Because she wanted to.
That still felt new.
At the entrance, Heewa turned to her, bouncing slightly on her heels.
“Can I show you my drawing later, Mama?”
“Of course,” Y/N said, crouching down in front of her. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s really good.”
“I’m sure it is.”
A quick hug.
A bright smile.
And then she was gone again, disappearing into the building with the same energy as always.
Y/N watched her for a moment.
Then stood, exhaling quietly before turning away.
Work.
The office felt busier than usual.
Not in a loud way. Just… a little more focused. A little more alert.
She noticed it as soon as she stepped in.
Something about the energy had shifted.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
She greeted a few people as she walked to her desk, setting her bag down before pulling out the folder from yesterday.
The K-pop assignment.
Her eyes moved over the notes again, even though she already knew them.
She sat down, opening her laptop, going over her slides one last time.
Everything was ready.
Exactly how it should be.
“Big day?”
She looked up at the voice, blinking slightly.
Standing beside her desk was someone she hadn’t expected to see this early.
Kim Jisoo.
Not the one most people would think of.
Different department.
Different floor.
Someone who technically had no reason to be hovering around her desk this often.
“Something like that,” she replied, offering a small smile.
Jisoo leaned slightly against the edge of her desk, casual as always.
He was… attractive.
That was the simplest way to put it.
Sharp features, neatly styled hair, the kind of confidence that came naturally rather than forced. The kind that made people pay attention when he walked into a room.
He always dressed well.
Always spoke smoothly.
And he always… lingered.
“I heard you got the K-pop assignment,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “That’s a good one.”
“It seems interesting,” Y/N replied.
“That’s one way to put it.”
She raised a brow slightly. “You don’t think so?”
“I think it’s more than interesting,” he said with a small smile. “Especially for a smaller firm like ours.”
She shrugged lightly. “It’s still just work.”
“And you’re still taking it very seriously,” he noted.
“That’s my job.”
“And you’re good at it.”
She paused for a second.
“Thank you.”
There was a brief silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Just… there.
“I’m actually on that project too.”
Y/N blinked.
“You are?”
“Mm.” He nodded. “Different angle, but same campaign.”
She hadn’t expected that.
“Oh.”
“Surprised?”
“A little.”
“I’ll try not to be a distraction then.”
There was something in the way he said it.
Light.
Playful.
Familiar.
Y/N let out a small breath, shaking her head slightly. “I think I’ll manage.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Another pause.
“What time’s the meeting?”
“Ten.”
He checked his watch. “Perfect.”
She frowned slightly. “Perfect?”
“Gives me enough time to walk with you.”
She huffed quietly. “You don’t even know if I was planning to go now.”
“You were.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because you’re prepared,” he said simply. “And people who are prepared don’t wait until the last minute.”
She stared at him for a second.
Then shook her head.
“…You’re not wrong.”
“I usually’m not.”
She rolled her eyes slightly, standing up, grabbing her folder.
“Come on then.”
He smiled.
The walk to the meeting room was short.
Too short, in a way.
Because Jisoo didn’t stop talking.
Not in an annoying way.
In a way that made the silence feel lighter.
Easier.
“So,” he said as they reached the door, glancing at her briefly. “You busy this weekend?”
Y/N paused slightly.
There it was.
She had expected it.
Eventually.
“I have a daughter,” she said carefully. “So… yes.”
“I know.”
That made her look at him.
“I still asked.”
She hesitated.
Because that wasn’t something she heard often.
Not like this.
Not… uncomplicated.
“We could work around that,” he added, pushing the door open slightly but not stepping in yet. “Coffee. Lunch. Something simple.”
Y/N studied him for a second.
He wasn’t pushy.
Wasn’t trying too hard.
Just… offering.
And for a moment, something in her chest shifted.
Because it had been a long time since she allowed herself to even consider something like this.
A long time since she thought about anything beyond work and Heewa.
“…Maybe,” she said slowly.
His expression brightened just slightly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You didn’t say no.”
She sighed quietly.
“…Fine. Maybe coffee.”
“That sounds like a yes.”
“It’s a maybe.”
“I’ll take it.”
She shook her head, a small smile slipping through despite herself.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Ready.”
And stepped inside.
The room was already occupied.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Several people seated.
Some she recognized.
Some she didn’t.
Her attention moved quickly, professionally, taking in the space, the setup.
She froze.
It happened in an instant.
Like the air had been knocked out of her lungs without warning.
Because sitting across the table was ATEEZ.
All of them.
Every single one.
And for a second, her mind refused to catch up.
Refused to process what she was seeing.
Because that didn’t make sense.
This wasn’t supposed to be...
Her grip on the folder tightened.
Her heartbeat loud.
Too loud.
His eyes met hers.
Choi San
Shock.
Pure, unfiltered shock.
It was written all over his face.
Not hidden.
Not controlled.
Just… there.
“Y/N?”
Her name.
Spoken like it had been pulled out of him without permission.
The room went quiet.
Too quiet.
Every head turned.
Every gaze shifting between them.
Y/N felt it.
All of it.
But she didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Not the way she wanted to.
Because years of holding herself together didn’t just disappear in a moment.
She swallowed.
Forced her expression into something neutral.
Professional.
And stepped further into the room like nothing had happened.
“Good morning,” she said calmly.
Like her world hadn’t just tilted off ist axis.
Like she hadn’t spent five years building a life that didn’t include him.
Like he wasn’t sitting right there.
Staring at her like she had just walked out of a memory he never got to finish.
“Sorry for being late,” she continued, moving to the empty seat across from them.
Beside her, Jisoo had gone quiet.
San hadn’t.
“What are you doing here?”
The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Too direct.
Too personal.
Too much.
Y/N didn’t look at him immediately.
She set her folder down.
Opened it.
Adjusted her posture.
And only then ahe lifted her gaze.
Meeting his eyes with something controlled.
Something distant.
“I work here,” she said simply.
And the tension in the room shifted.
Subtle.
But noticeable.
Because this wasn’t just a normal meeting anymore.
This was something else.
Something none of them were prepared for.
San stared at her.
Still trying to process.
Still trying to understand.
And around him, the other members watched quietly.
Because they knew her too.
Knew exactly who she was.
And exactly what this meant.
And Y/N...she just sat there.
Back straight.
Hands steady.
Expression calm.
Like her heart wasn’t beating too fast.
Like her past hadn’t just walked back into her life without warning.
Like she hadn’t just agreed to coffee with someone else moments before stepping into a room she never thought she’d see again.
She inhaled slowly.
Then looked at the rest of the table.
“Shall we begin?”
And just like that, she forced the world to keep moving.
Summary: You took the bus to and from work 5 days a week. It was routine and boring until a new, attractive, man started taking the same route. Eye contact and innocent smiles turned into something more when you accidentally flashed him, leading to an unforgettable encounter with the stranger on your ride home.
Content Warning: SMUT. 18+ ONLY. NO MINORS.
Flirting. Fantasizing about a stranger. Flashing in public (on accident and on purpose). Exhibitionism. Voyeurism. Public masturbation. Masturbation. Fingering. Public “sex.” Oral (m and f receiving), 69, multiple orgasm, public orgasm, p in v, some dirty talk, low-key they’re obsessed with each other, hope I got all the important ones!!
———-
You stepped onto the bus and swiped your pass, making your way to the middle and taking a window seat. You turned your body, placing your purse up on the seat next to you to ensure nobody tried taking the seat. You laid your back against the window, one leg up on the cushion and the other on the floor to lounge for the journey. It was an asshole move but, you only did it if the bus wasn’t busy. It hardly ever was.
Every weekday you took the same seat around 7am to work and then back home at 5pm, drowning out everything around you while listening to music as high as it could go in your AirPods while you waited for your stop. It was routine. Boring.
Until a handsome man started taking the same route.
He was more beautiful than handsome, a cute birthmark by his eye. He was quiet and to himself. Always reading or writing in a journal. You found yourself curious about him, wondering what his name was and where he was going every day. Work like you? Maybe he was in college?
One day you found yourself studying his features as you sat across the bus from him while he read. His jaw was angular and sharp, prominent, but all his other features were soft and delicate. His brown whispy hair was on the longer side, pieces falling in his face. You watch as his lips softly moved as he mouthed the words he was reading on the pages. They were plush, plump.
His eyes shifted off the page and in your direction, feeling the gaze. You quickly averted yours to the roof of the bus, trying to play it off like you were just looking around casually. You took one short glance at him again before deciding it would be best to avoid his direction the rest of the ride and saw a small smile playing at his lips but, his eyes were rested back on the pages in front of him.
The bus pulled to the side getting ready to stop at a drop off. The man collected his satchel bag and book and stood up to get off. As he passes by you, you couldn’t help but notice his eyes drifting in your direction.
———————
The work day dragged. By the time it was over, you were exhausted and ready to be home. You impatiently tapped your foot waiting for the driver to finally open the doors for you to board.
Taking your normal seat, lounging across it with your back against the window, you spaced out while focusing on the sounds of the bus engine.
The next stop came up quickly. Your eyes filtered over to the bus doors as a few people climbed on, your eyes fixating on the handsome man that caught you staring earlier that morning. You felt a small bit of excitement in your stomach after seeing him again but, also some anxiety.
‘Does he think I’m weird?’ You thought to yourself.
You picked up your phone and started to aimlessly scroll, trying your best to ignore him as he took his normal stroll past you to the middle back of the bus. However, this time, he took the seat right across from yours. You froze.
Your eyes hesitantly looked up and found him sitting the same way you were, taking up two seats, facing your direction. He was reading again but, his eyes were not on the page. They were looking at you.
Blood rushed to your face, turning your cheeks hot, and you quickly looked back down at your phone. Your heart was beating at a rapid pace and you swear you could still feel his eyes on you. After gaining some confidence, you looked up again at him and found that he was still staring. He was not smiling but he also didn’t seem upset. He was just.. watching you carefully. Maybe curiously?
You gave him a small polite smile which he returned, then let his eyes drop to focus on his book. He didn’t look at you again the rest of the ride, even when you stood up to get off on your stop.
You hardly slept that night waiting to see the man again on your morning commute.
————-
Heels clattered against the sidewalk as you ran for the bus, running late after spending too much time picking out your outfit. Typically you wore slacks and a blouse but today you decided to go with a skirt. A decision heavily influenced by the mysterious stranger you were itching to see. You wanted to look cute, professional.
He was seated in the same seat as yesterday evening, across from your usual, as if he was waiting for you.
You sat down, back against the window like normal, and pretended to scroll on your phone. You didn’t have to look up to know he was looking. You felt it. And the feeling didn’t relieve itself even after getting to the next stop.
Lifting your eyes slowly, you expected to find brown ones staring back at you. But, they weren’t. They were on you, just not on your face. They were pointed down below. You tilted your head down to follow his gaze and found it leading between your thighs.
Since you were not used to wearing skirts to work, it didn’t occur to you that the way you prefer to sit in the bus was not appropriate and had exposed the white panties you had chosen to wear today.
You gasped softly in shock and clamped your legs closed quickly in front of you, sitting up on the seat as normally intended. You turned your head to look at him and this time, he was looking up into your eyes. His cheeks were pink, flushed, and his eyes had a deep intensity to them as he stared.
The bus’s breaks squealed as it pulled into the next stop. His stop. Without breaking eye contact, he gathered his things and stood up in front of you to leave. When got to his feet, your eyes noticed a large bulge pressing against the seam of his jeans. He was hard. Extremely hard. You felt yourself pulse between your thighs.
He walked out casually, as if nothing had happened. No real expression showing itself on his face. You sat in shock until your stop, replaying what had just happened over and over in your head, wetness spreading through the white cotton.
———-
You squirmed in your office chair the whole day, unable to shake the throbbing desire that refused to extinguish itself on its own. You were finally close to the end of the day but was aching with anticipation for 5pm. You used the bathroom to freshen up before leaving. While in there, you noticed your panties were far too coated in your arousal to be ignored. The white fabric was practically see-through, as was the intensity of your desire. You had an itch and you needed it scratched.
The fabric fell to your ankles where you stepped out of them and pushed them into your purse. You had an idea and the thought of playing it out brought butterflies to your stomach. Before you could talk yourself out of the plan, you quickly walked yourself out of the office building and towards the pickup spot as fast as you could.
————-
You were sat facing forward in your usual seat when he entered, your legs closed in front of you. Your bag was in its normal spot, claiming the seat beside. He was still not invited to sit by you. Not yet at least.
The man was no longer subtly making glances towards you, he was unapologetically staring.
He sat down facing you again but, didn’t bring out a book this time. He was just looking. Observing. It was perfect for what you had in mind.
You slowly turned in his direction, lifting one leg up onto the seat, exposing yourself underneath the skirt. You saw his chest rise in a sharp inhale as he looked down and saw your naked, soaked, folds.
His pants got tighter, his growing erection pressing up against the seam of his pants like before. One of his hands went to his crotch where he grabbed it tightly, squeezing it gently for some relief. His eyelids drifted shut for a moment as the pleasure spread through his body.
You sunk back into the seat deeper, your legs opening more. His view became incredibly clear.
“Fuck.” You saw his lips mouth the word but could not hear it.
He started to rub his palm up and down the length of his clothed erection. Your heart started to beat fast as you watched him. His lips were parted ever so slightly, quiet sighs slipping through them, and his eyelids sank low as he was consumed with desire.
The sight in front of you drove you crazy. Your nipples hardened under your blouse, peeking through your thin cotton bra. You found yourself lifting up your hands to your breasts, squeezing them softly, before using your thumbs to flick at the hard buds.
He saw your pussy pulse between your thighs as you played with your nipples. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. He was close to cumming in his pants.
You jerked yourself back into reality as the breaks squealed. the bus pulling nto your stop. You straightened up your clothes and gathered your things, purposely letting your ruined panties fall into your now vacant seat.
The man sat panting, eyes wide with sock as you walked away from him. A small part of you hoping he followed you back to your place but, he didn’t. However, as you looked at him through the windows of the bus, you saw him reach over and grab the panties you left behind, stuffing them in his front jacket pocket before the bus drove away.
—————
You were a dripping mess when you got home. You hardly made it through the door before you were reaching your hand between your thighs to rub yourself to some relief. You held your weight against the wall, writhing against the cold surface as you quickly approached your orgasm.
“Fuck!” You moaned, gasping at the intensity of your need. Your fingers moved quicker, your other hand finding one of your nipples to play with like earlier. The memory of the encounter pushing you over.
You cursed as you came, loud moans being pulled from your body with every pulse of your climax. Your knees trembled, almost giving out beneath you.
“Oh my god.” You said to yourself. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
You felt crazy and unlike yourself. You had just exposed yourself to a stranger on the bus, leaving him your used panties, and then had one of the best orgasms of your life thinking about it. And the worst part? You wanted more.
You imagined the man lying in a bed, his hand around his cock, stroking it slowly. His other hand was holding your panties up to his face, inhaling your scent. As he got closer to his orgasm, he brought the panties down to his dripping cock and started fo stroke himself with the white ruined fabric.
His breathing was fast and labored. The pace he was stroking his cock got faster, the fabric running against him until his orgasm spilled over his hand and into cotton.
You closed yourself into your room to masturbate for the 2nd… and 3rd time. Unable to completely shake the burning desire between your thighs.
You laid in your bed panting, thighs wet in your orgasm. Your head was spinning and head was foggy, almost like you were high.
You wanted this to end, this insane feeling. And you knew the only way to end it was to follow through.
—————
You hardly slept but were wide awake as you walked to the bus stop. Your hands trembled slightly in anticipation. You had on another skirt like yesterday. No underwear. Completely prepared for anything that may happen. However, your building anticipation fizzled out when the man was not onboard your daily commute.
The ride to work and the entirety of your day was miserable and long. You felt anxious and embarrassed as your mind came up with answers as to why the handsome man didn’t ride with you this morning.
Did he regret it? Would you never see him again?
You didn’t even know his name.
————
You sat uncomfortable in the seat next to the window, pulling down your skirt as far as it could go since your no-panty decision was a major mistake. You couldn’t believe how dumb you felt.
The bus was about to take off from your stop when somebody knocked on the door glass. The bus driver begrudgingly opened it for the late patron.
“Hurry up, I’m off schedule as it is.” He grumbled.
“Sorry.” A deep voice responded. You looked up and felt a chill run down your spine. It was him. And he was getting on the bus from your stop, not his.
His eyes found you immediately, a smile spreading across his face. He walked over to where you were sitting, not looking for any other spot to sit.
“Is this seat taken?” He asked you, his voice deep and quiet.
You shook your head no, unable to find your voice, and moved your purse to the floor to make room for him. He took the seat, eyeing you carefully. He smelled of musky cologne and shampoo.
“You weren’t here this morning.” Your voice was almost softer than a whisper.
“Hmm?” He turned to look you deep in the eyes. His face, his lips, mere inches from yours.
“Why weren’t you here this morning?” Your voice came out a bit weak which made him chuckle softly. He reached into his front pocket and grabbed something into his palm.
“I’m sorry. I was a bit preoccupied.” He dropped the contents of his hand into your lap. Your ruined panties. “I had a lot to take care of.”
Your legs clamped together, remembering your fantasy from last night. Based on the mere state of them, it seemed like your imagination was rooted in reality a lot more than you thought possibly.
You quickly grabbed the fabric and shoved it in your bag. Heat spread across your cheeks and down to your core.
“I’m Yeosang.” He told you. You were both facing forward, not looking at each other anymore.
“I’m y/n.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you.” He murmured.
You felt the sudden heat of skin on skin as he placed a large hand on your leg. You looked down and saw his long fingers grasping the width of your thigh, veins popping out from the top of his hand and knuckles scuffed up from day to day use.
The familiar pulse you’ve come to know around him returned between your thighs.
“Is this okay?” Yeosang whispered into your ear, his lips ticking your earlobe.
“Yes.” You tried your best to calm yourself but you were practically trembling with need. His fingers trailed further up, lightly tickling the skin, making goosebumps appear. You sighed into his touch, slowly opening your legs for him as his fingers got closer and closer to where you were dripping.
His fingers grazed over your core, hardly touching it. A low and deep groan slipped through his lips when he felt that you were bare, just like yesterday.
“Please.” The word slipped out without any thought. You turned to look at him, ready to beg him if you had to. He was breathing just as hard as you, the bulge in his pants marked with a small wet spot from where his pre-cum leaked through.
You reached your hand out and grabbed his erection through his jeans, the bold move made him suck in a breath through gritted teeth.
“Fuck.” He hissed, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth to stop more sounds from slipping out. You moved your hand up and down his length over the fabric. You could feel him throbbing even over the barrier.
“Please.” You begged again, your hand still moving.
Yeosang’s fingers finally dipped into your folds. His fingers gathered your wetness and brought them up to your clit where he started to rub circles around the swollen and sensitive nerves. Your hips jerked up off of the seat at the feeling and you had to cover your mouth for a moment in order to prevent any noise from leaking out.
He used his free hand to lift your thigh on top of his, opening your legs even more. Being spread open like this in public, a hot stranger rubbing your pussy on the bus, was so erotic and taboo. The reality of the situation was enough to get you close to a release.
“Shhh. Be quiet, pretty.” He reminded you gently. You didn’t notice that small whimpers started to pour from your lips. “We don’t want to get caught.”
Your eyes darted around to check if anyone was looking and was relived to see that nobody had noticed. At least not to your knowledge.
Yeosang suddenly moved his fingers off of your clit and started to tease your entrance with his long middle finger. He slowly push it inside of you, his fingertip brushing over your sensitive spot. You clamped your legs shut from the intensity.
“So shy all of a sudden?” He teased. “Open back up for me.”
You listened, his words brining a new wave of pleasure to what he was doing to you. He pressed the entire length of his finger inside and pulled it in and out at a decent pace. If he went any faster, the people close by would be able to hear the intimate noises of your wet core that were only meant for him.
Yeosang squirmed in his seat, a bit uncomfortable against his jeans now as you continued to rub his hard-on. When you noticed his slight discomfort, you took it upon yourself to help relieve this by unzipping his pants and freeing his member. You reached into the front opening of his boxers, grabbing him with your hand, and pulled him through the opening.
Yeosang’s tip was glistening with his arousal and his shaft pulsed in your grip. He was thick and long which made your mouth water. He let out small huffs of breath as you pumped along his length.
“Your stop is coming up.” He reminded you and removed his fingers from inside to focus on your clit again. He was pressing down hard and moving his fingers quick.
“Oh.. oh no.” You whimpered, suddenly scared of your approaching climax. Both of you scanned the bus for any suspicious riders but all were still wrapped up in their own business.
“It’s okay baby.” He whispered in your ear. “You can cum.”
You came hard, convulsing slightly in your seat before snapping your legs together and curling up around Yeosang’s forearm.
Watching you come undone sent him over the edge but, with less dramatics. His load spilled down his tip and over your knuckles, his eyes fluttering. You both sat for a moment to catch your breath. Once you were steady you shuffled around in your bag to find those underwear he returned to you and used them to wipe your hand clean.
Yeosang shamelessly cleaned his fingers in his mouth and hummed a sound of approval at the taste.
You both adjusted your clothes. He winced slightly as he pushed his sensitive dick back into his pants. You had finished just in time for your stop.
You cleared your throat and gathered your things. Your legs were a bit wobbly when you stood up to step over him. You felt his hand rub across your ass as you passed him, a new wave of desire taking over you. You weren’t ready for things to end. You wanted more.
“Do you want to get off here with me?” Your question caught him off guard for just a moment before excitement set in. He agreed and got up to walk off the bus with you. Both choosing to ignore the scarlet face of the bus driver who was clearly recovering from seeing something shocking.
——————
You unlocked your door and invited Yeosang’s inside. Your studio apartment was a bit messy but you didn’t expect the man you met on the bus to ever go beyond that so, it would have to do.
“Do you want anything to drink?” You asked him to try and be polite.
“No, thank you.” Yeosang suddenly seemed a bit shy being in private after being so confident in a bus of people.
“Have you done that before?” You weren’t sure you truly wanted to know the answer.
“No.” He said. “Only with you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat, his next words coming out with more confidence. “There’s something about you I find quite intriguing.”
He walked over to you slowly. Your heart was racing fast.
“It was innocent at first. I liked the way you would peek over at me and shyly look away when you were caught. It was cute.” He chuckled but his demeanor suddenly changed “But then, when I moved seats and you flashed me your pretty panties, I became consumed with the idea of fucking you.”
He stood incredibly close to you now. He reached out his hand and ran his fingertips down your cheek.
“And then you came back and showed me you were having the same thoughts.” He bit the inside of his cheek at the memory. “Playing with your nipples while you watched me rub myself to your exposed pussy.. how naughty.”
He took his fingers and pinched your hard nipples through your shirt, making you whimper.
“Leaving your wet panties for me sealed the deal.” He continued to toy with your hard nubs. “I spent all night fucking myself into them. I even missed the bus this morning because of it.”
“I was hoping you would.” You grabbed his shirt and pulled him against you. “I came to the thought of you 3 times last night.”
“Well, I already made you cum once. Let me give you two more so we can go 3 for 3.”
Your lips crashed into his with hunger. The kisses were deep and messy. His tongue teased your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.
You moaned deeply, the freedom to make noise made it so much easier to let yourself feel everything fully. Yeosang’s hands lifted your shirt over your head and pushed the cups of your bra down just enough to reveal both your puffy nipples. He flicked each peak with his fingertips which caused a shock of pleasure to spread down between your thighs.
“Your nipples are so sensitive.” He cooed in awe. Then tilted his head down to lick his tongue across the pink skin before taking it into his mouth.
“God- Yeosang.” You moaned his name
as he sucked on you. You were throbbing down below. His lips were soft and delicate and looked plump wrapped around your sensitive peak. You could probably cum just from watching him do this a little longer.
He pulled his mouth off you a moment too soon to kiss you again. He gripped your bare ass under the skirt you were wearing and pulled your lower half against him. He gave you a sharp spank on your rear and ordered you to climb on the bed.
“I need to taste you on my tongue.” He said, almost begging. “Sit on my face.”
Yeosang undressed in front of you to lay on your bed. Your jaw dropped slightly seeing his sculpted body. His pretty and delicate features were paired with strong arms and a toned stomach. He was strong. And he was going to ruin you.
He laid down and scooted under your bent knees. His whole head was covered by your skirt that he insisted you kept on. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you down onto his mouth.
“Fuck!” You scream as you felt his tongue slide against your clit. You fell forward, holding yourself up on his legs while he continued to lick you from below. The noises coming from his mouth as he devoured you were almost embarrassing due to how wet you were. Your juices were dripping down his chin.
His cock stood rock hard next to your face as you laid on him. Your mouth watered like it had earlier. Only this time, you could act on the craving.
You grabbed him in your hand and used your tongue to lick the tip before placing it between your lips. Yeosang’s moaned loudly into your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your core. You reared back onto him, rocking back and forth against his chin, tongue, and nose as you bobbed your head up and down the full length of him.
The room filled with both your moans and each of you pleasured the other with their mouth. His tongue felt even better than you could have dreamed. He used it expertly, running over your clit again and again until you were on the brink.
“I- I’m gonna cum-“ you warned him, unable to continue working at his cock due to the fire ready to combust between your thighs.
Yeosang buried his face deep in your pussy and sucked hard on your clit over and over.
“Nnnugh…. Fuck!” You crumbled above him during your climax. He held you tight and in place to prevent you from running. You collapsed on top of him when your orgasm finished.
“One more to go.” He chuckled and lifted you off of him and placed you on your back into the sheets. He crawled between your hips and pinned your hands above your head in his, your fingers intertwined.
“Are you sure you want this?” His dick teased your entrance, coaxing you.
“Yes.” You moaned. “God, yes. Please fuck me.”
Yeosang groaned deeply as he sunk himself into you. You both laid connected at the core, breathing deeply together for a moment as you adjusted to the feeling. He kissed you deeply, romantic almost, before he started rolling his hips. He buried his face into your neck and moaned into the skin as he fucked you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you pulled him down deeper inside. He sped up, fucking you relentlessly.
“You feel amazing.” He growled into your ear. You were a mess of moans under him. His cock curved in just the right way, hitting your g spot with every thrust. The sound of your skin colliding with his echoed in the room.
“Yeosang..”
“I’m close too.” He moaned into your ear.
He let go of your hands he was holding and picked up your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest. Your valves rested on his shoulders while he drilled into you, rough now.
“Oh my god-“ you choked out. Your mouth fell agape as the overwhelming pleasure spread throughout your nerves. Yeosang used his thumb to rub your clit as he continued pounding into you. He could feel how close you were, walls tightening around him, choking his cock.
“Come on you’re right there baby. Give it to me.” The thrusts got more powerful, almost painful. “Cum while I’m inside you.”
You fell apart around him as primal moans left your body. Your orgasm was intense, mind-numbing. He kept fucking you as he got closer to his release as you continued to cream on his cock. He thrusted into you one last time, grunting and slightly convulsing as he released himself inside.
Once you were both down from your high, Yeosang gently pulled himself out and sat next to you on the bed. He reached out a hand to caress your thigh to soothe you.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
“Yes.” You giggled softly. “I can’t believe i fucked some random guy I met on the bus.”
“You know my name now so I’m no longer a random.” He laughed with me. “But you don’t regret it, right?”
“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t. Do you?”
“No.” Yeosang smiled. “In fact, I can’t wait to catch the bus again.”
—————-
My first Yeosang fic!! I hope you enjoyed. Also
My first time writing in 2nd person so I’m not sure how i feel about it. Please leave a comment if you want, I love hearing from readers!! Please look forward to my next one :) it’s Yunho!!
if you started listing every single positive thing about dating an idol like choi yeonjun, the list would probably be endless.
working at his company didn't just mean proximity. it gave you the perfect excuse for little getaways together in different cities. mini holidays tucked between schedules.
the tour kept expanding, city after city, and yeonjun had a talent — or perhaps a flaw — for pushing himself past his limits just to give his absolute best on stage.
on the other hand, your role was more about presence than anything else. which meant you had as much free time as you wanted. and what better way to spend it than scrolling through tumblr? you'd been addicted long before you'd even dared to fantasise about dating your bias.
and although you'd never really had any serious arguments — nothing beyond who'd eaten the last slice of pizza or why he kept stealing a few of your clothes to complete his outfits — you hadn't expected something so... small to turn into a problem.
one that would lead to a solution you never saw coming.
you came back from the kitchen with a mug of coffee for him and a hot chocolate for yourself, but your smile faltered the moment you caught the look he threw at you as you stepped into the room again.
your phone in his hand.
“is something wrong?” you asked, genuinely confused, setting both mugs down on the bedside table before turning your head back to him.
you've never been the type to hide things from each other and, although yeonjun has never been the sort of boyfriend to snoop through phones, your pin is his birthday — and he knows it, uses it whenever he wants to send himself the photos you've taken of him or put some music on from your mobile.
even so, he doesn't need to answer.
he simply turns your phone around, holding it up in front of your face. and there it is — your tumblr account glowing back at you from the screen.
“i opened a notification by accident,” he explains, though the tightness in his voice, the way his whole body has gone rigid, tells you he's forcing himself to stay composed because the other members are just a few hotel rooms away. “it's... sweet that you read stories about me, yn. won't deny that.”
the use of your actual name is enough to make your stomach drop.
yeonjun is hopelessly addicted to sickeningly cute pet names. and when he stops using them — that's when something is wrong.
“baby, i don't understand–”
“oh, you don't understand?” he scoffs, humourless, glancing away for a second as if you've just lied to his face. you haven't.
you genuinely don't know what's upsetting him.
“a story where i'm a university playboy who turns out to be a virgin? yeah, i can wrap my head around you fantasising about that...” he looks back at you, then down at the phone, scrolling until he reaches the part that clearly matters.
and when your eyes catch distraction – choi soobin, reblogged on your profile — you swallow.
“'i needed something like this in my life,'” he quotes, disbelief laced through every syllable. “is this a joke?”
your comment clearly doesn't amuse him. your phone slips from his hand onto the bed as he stands abruptly.
“baby, it's not what you think. i was just reading it and liked the narrative, it's not like—”
“like what?” he cuts in. “like you read erotic stories about my bandmate?”
his voice threatens to rise, but he forces it down. he refuses to even consider shouting at you. still, the vein standing out against his bare forehead gives him away.
he's right at his limit.
“i'm not fantasising about soobin, baby, please.” you step closer, hoping your words will be enough to steady him.
your hands brush over his forearms — a silent question, asking for permission before you hold him.
“i promise it's not like that. i only read it because i've probably already read every single fanfic about you.”
yeonjun watches you for a few seconds, jaw tight — then it slowly eases. his shoulders drop with a measured breath, and you take the chance to wrap your arms around his waist.
“they're called fanfics?”
you can't help but smile at the shift in his voice — softer now, threaded with faint curiosity.
yeonjun is so not chronically online it borders on impressive. he genuinely has no idea what his fans create about him.
and you thought the conversation would end there — that it wouldn't come up again.
until a couple of nights later.
after a hot shower, waiting for yeonjun to come back from practice, you pick out the comfiest pyjamas you own for the night.
when he appears at the bedroom door, you smile and step close enough to kiss him in greeting, but the sheer intensity of him catches you off guard.
"ngh—" slips from your throat against his mouth. his hands cradle your head as if he needs to make sure you won't pull away and, god, it's choi yeonjun — it's impossible not to feel your knees weaken when he kisses you like that.
“missed you— so fucking much—” he murmurs between kisses that grow messier, less restrained. his teeth catch your bottom lip and another soft, helpless whimper spills from your throat.
his hands find your hips and he lifts you as if you weigh nothing at all. he carries you to the bed, lets your body fall back against the mattress.
before you can even catch your breath, his teeth sink into the inside of your thighs, sharp and deliberate, while his fingers push the fabric of your shorts aside — your panties along with them.
your hips lift instinctively when you feel his breath ghost over your cunt, warm and teasing.
“babe—“ you whimper, and that alone makes him grin. he knows where you want him. he always knows.
his tongue teases your clit at first — slow. your legs tremble, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging without meaning to.
yeonjun has always been good at eating you out. he knows how to start, where to lick, which movements make your breath hitch, how to take his time until you're shaking for him.
you squeeze your eyes shut. his name slips from your lips before you can stop it, and your hips chase friction at the maddening slowness of his movements. but you already know him, and he knows you.
so his hands grip your thighs to keep you exactly where he wants you, his mouth devouring you like he's been thinking about this all day.
and if there's one thing yeonjun is even better at than eating you out, it's using his fingers.
“fuck— yes!” your back arches when you feel two fingers push inside without warning, sliding in slick and effortless.
it's ridiculous how wet you get just for him — how your body gives you away every single time. but you can't help it. can you?
his lips close around your clit, sucking gently while his tongue keeps a steady rhythm. he's always been addicted to your taste, your scent — the way you unravel for him does something to his head.
his fingers stay buried inside you, curling in that come here motion that hits exactly where you need it most.
you moan loud, embarrassingly loud. your skin prickles every time his fingertips brush that sweet, devastating spot, the tension in your stomach tightening and loosening in waves, pulling you closer and closer to the edge.
but when you open your eyes — almost like your body's bracing for the orgasm about to wreck you — your heart lurches violently in your chest.
soobin is standing in the doorway.
arms crossed.
watching you both.
“what the—!” you jolt, legs instinctively trying to snap shut as you push yourself up, but yeonjun stops you.
“stay.” he growls against you, the vibration of his voice sending a sharp shiver through your body.
“soobin is—”
he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes darker than they were seconds ago. “lie back, yn. now.”
you know that voice.
god, you do.
your body lowers back onto the mattress, obedient despite the chaos in your chest. his fingers keep striking that spot again and again, precise, but you force yourself to stay composed. you can't look away from soobin, still standing in the doorway like this is nothing. like this is normal.
“what is going on?” you manage, breath thin, eyes flicking back to your boyfriend as he shifts to get comfortable.
he settles at your side on the bed, propped slightly on one elbow, never once stopping the steady rhythm of his fingers inside you. he finds your g spot effortlessly — he always does — but your hips are stiff now, your muscles tense. you don't let the pleasure take you. not while soobin is watching.
yeonjun and soobin share a look, and the third presence between you begins to move with calm steps towards the bed. the eye contact between you is intense, charged, even though soobin's demeanour remains what it always is — outwardly relaxed, almost shy, if you didn't know him well enough to see past it.
he kneels beside the bed, his face level with yours.
but you turn to your boyfriend instead, frowning.
“yeonjun, this isn't—”your voice breaks off, swallowed by your own whimper when his fingers suddenly pick up speed inside you.
“were you saying something?” he arches a brow, holding your gaze — almost. because your eyes are fighting to stay on him instead of rolling back at the forced pleasure coiling tight in your stomach.
“i–i—” you can barely form words without dissolving into a mess of broken moans. you're tense — so tense your body has nowhere to send the pressure except into the pleasure yeonjun keeps dragging out of you, mercilessly pressing against that spot while he watches your face.
his jaw is tight, eyes dark — almost black. you can feel his erection against your leg, hard, insistent, pulsing with every shallow breath he takes.
“you know our safeword,” he says, tone measured, almost clinical — like this is a test. “you'll say it if you need to. won't you? say it, yn. go on.”
it's an order. you recognise it.
but your mind won't cooperate. not when your orgasm is cresting, seconds away from tearing through you — not with your boyfriend's fingers inside you and his bandmate kneeling right there, watching you fall apart.
yeonjun knows your body so well — like the back of his hand — that at the very first sign of your release, the way your walls tighten around his fingers, he stops without warning.
you cry out, the tension draining from you all at once as frustration replaces it. your eyes look wrecked, desperate — almost as if you're being punished.
“i was going to c—”
“quiet.” his voice is firm. it makes you feel small.
“she's so pretty.”
the voice beside you makes you turn, heat rushing to your face. you can't hold soobin's gaze for more than half a second. your body throbs in response to the praise, and beside you, yeonjun's jaw tightens even further.
you look back at yeonjun, your eyes silently asking what this is — why soobin is here. no warning. no explanation.
without a word, his fingers start moving inside you again, slower this time — but now his thumb joins in, tracing tight circles over your clit. you swallow a moan; it's almost too much, the stimulation sharp and overwhelming.
“didn't you like the story about you and soobin having sex in his room?” yeonjun asks.
your cheeks burn. you've never felt so exposed.
“i didn't—”
“you're going to tell him every detail, yn,” yeonjun orders — nearly a threat — as his fingers pick up pace again, the double attention between your legs dragging you helplessly back towards pleasure. “every. single. detail.”
“i don't want to.” you murmur, trying to make it sound steady instead of like another broken moan slipping out of you.
“and what's the word for that?” he raises his brows.
you part your lips to answer — but soobin steals your attention again.
“you can tell me, yn,” he says softly. “you know i wouldn't judge you, right?”
you glance at him for only a second before looking back at yeonjun. your walls tighten around his fingers — not from release this time, but from the weight of being watched. from the way soobin's calm voice does something to you. it's inevitable. it's your body reacting.
“come on, yn,” yeonjun urges. “tell him.”
you turn to soobin, properly meeting his eyes, and your lips fall open. a soft whine slips out when your boyfriend suddenly increases the pace again.
“i was only reading it because—”
“yn.” yeonjun's voice brushes your ear in warning, his fingers pressing a little deeper.
soobin lifts his brows slightly, silently urging you to continue.
“it's about a girl who's your best friend and s-she likes you—” you manage, words trembling as the knot in your stomach pulls tight again.
soobin nods, his hand lifting to cup your cheek gently. “you're doing so well. keep going.”
the knot tightens, sharper now, and yeonjun takes advantage of it — his fingers moving faster, more deliberate. his thumb knows the exact rhythm to keep you hovering right at the edge without letting you fall.
“and then y-you offer to calm her down, you start to—”
your legs try to close, instinctively, but they don't let you. you glance at yeonjun, and he's looking at you like you're the most intoxicating thing he's ever seen.
“you're going to keep those pretty eyes on soobin, alright?” he murmurs. you nod, not daring to disobey. “if you look at me again, i'll stop. and you don't want that, do you?”
you love when he does that — speaks to you like he knows exactly what you need.
because he does.
your head turns back to soobin, and the wrongness of it all only makes it more intoxicating.
“look at you,” soobin murmurs, “so pretty and so desperate at the same time.” his thumb drags lightly over your lower lip. “go on. i want to hear the rest.”
“y-you go down on her—”
“no.” yeonjun corrects now, his voice firm against your ear. “he goes down on you.”
you swallow, hips lifting instinctively to chase more friction.
“you go down on me— while i'm looking at the mirror on the ceiling—” your back arches; soobin's mouth curves faintly at that. “then you make her— make me come a few times and—”
soobin catches the shift in your expression before you even warn. his eyes darken.
“i'm gonna cum,” you breathe out, the words torn from you in a desperate whisper. your hips lift, your legs trembling uncontrollably. “shit— 'm going to cum.”
soobin glances at yeonjun, then back at you.
you don't want to. not like this. not while looking at your boyfriend's bandmate.
“baby, please—” you turn, almost pleading and instantly regret it when you feel the sudden emptiness as his fingers slide out of you. “yeonjun!”
“i warned you.” he says simply, shifting to switch places with soobin. “hands above your head. eyes closed.”
you look at both of them before obeying. you feel your legs being parted by warm hands, though you can't quite tell whose they are.
“she's soaked.” soobin murmurs under his breath, sounding almost surprised.
“such a pathetic mess,” your boyfriend replies, almost mockingly. “she's always like this. sometimes i don't even have to touch her for her to get that wet.”
your cheeks burn. they're talking about you like you're not even there — or like it doesn't matter that you are.
“you should see her after shows,” yeonjun adds, his voice brushing across your face. “her panties are ruined every time i perform talk to you, my needy little whore.”
yeonjun's perfume fills your lungs, makes your stomach twist — but while he keeps talking, warmth spreads between your legs.
you jolt — first because it's soobin, and second because his tongue is warm, slow, and he knows exactly where to lick without you having to guide him— just like yeonjun.
“f-fuck, yes,” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut as your hips tense. “mm— right there.”
“told you,” your boyfriend mutters, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back with that familiar, controlled firmness. “she goes stupid if you know how to eat her.”
his thumb brushes along your jaw as he leans closer.
“and that's nothing,” he adds, voice low against your ear, “you've no idea what she's like when you start playing with her nipples.”
your lips part when you feel the tip of yeonjun brush against them, and he begins to move his hips — slow at first. his grip in your hair is firm, guiding the rhythm of your mouth taking him.
“and her mouth is so...” he exhales heavily, almost a growl, “so easy to use. its a fucktoy you're going to love.”
soobin only answers with low, muffled "mhm" sounds between your thighs, eating you like a starving man. the only things filling the room alongside yeonjun's voice are your choked, uncontrollable moans — and the wet sounds of soobin's tongue against you.
his chin is slick with you, your arousal coating him even though you haven't come yet.
and just when you think you couldn't possibly be any more overstimulated, you feel two hands travelling up your body until they reach your nipples.
but no — it isn't yeonjun.
soobin's fingers squeeze them gently at first, drawing a sharp arch from your back. then his touch turns precise, deliberate — thumbs circling the hardened peaks, rolling them in a way that pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
yeonjun uses your mouth, thrusting steadily, his length sliding deep into your throat. tears spill down your cheeks, but your eyes stay shut, your hands remain above your head — just like he told you.
one of the things he's always loved about you is the way your throat tightens around him, how you can take him so deep without faltering. you barely gag anymore — almost used to it from the countless times you've done this for him.
yeonjun knows how much you love doing this — how soaked you get for him, tasting every inch of him in your mouth.
soobin's tongue on your clit becomes unbearable, and your nipples burn with overstimulation, so you let yourself fall into the pleasure completely.
your moan vibrates against yeonjun's skin, your hips lifting instinctively, while soobin grows even more desperate to taste every drop you spill across him.
the climax hits so hard that your thighs clamp around him without meaning to, the intensity stretching the pleasure far beyond what you're used to.
you twist on the bed, drawing your legs together, arching your back, trying to ride out the orgasm as it rolls through you.
“i'm not done with you yet,” you hear your boyfriend growl, tugging your hair to pull you back. you moan, tilting your head up to look at him. his knees press into the edge of the bed, eyes dark and amused as he watches you like the toy he's playing with. “look at you — so easy to ruin.”
it's true. you're a mess, and this is only the beginning. tears blur your vision, your chest struggles for normal breaths, and your legs tremble uncontrollably.
soobin wipes the remnants of you with his hand and glances at his friend. “can i?”
you notice immediately that soobin's cock is bigger than yeonjun's — just by looking — but everything happens so fast that you barely register it.
your head falls back over the edge of the bed, mouth open, while soobin thrusts slowly into your throat — taking his time just to see the way your gag tightens around him as you choke out muffled moans.
yeonjun gives you no chance to recover. his hands clamp onto your hips after pulling off your clothes, and with a hard, precise thrust, he hits your g spot again, sending sharp, delicious jolts of overstimulation through you.
the sound of him thrusting roughly echoes through your room, fingers digging into your skin as if he's afraid you might vanish.
and you? you're just a small, overstimulated thing caught between two friends, a mess of saliva around soobin's cock.
he slips from your mouth with just the right softness. a heavy groan escapes him, and even though you can breathe again, it's impossible to do it properly. not with the raw, relentless way your boyfriend is fucking you.
you glance toward the end of the bed — yeonjun's forehead slick with sweat, hair pushed back. the sight is hypnotic, as it always is. effortlessly beautiful. eyes locked on your bouncing breasts.
“look at him,” he says, breath ragged, lifting his piercing gaze to yours while thrusting his hips with even more brutal force. “don't you dare look at me.”
you do it — because yeonjun's voice always leaves you weak, and by now you're far too exhausted to think logically.
soobin watches you, his thumb brushing against your lower lip, sliding inside for you to suck. you do. the skin at the back of his neck ripples.
“she's really enjoying this.” he murmurs to yeonjun, almost mockingly.
your eyes stay locked on his, his finger pressing against your tongue, and you open your mouth obediently. he brings his cock closer again, and you lean forward to lick the tip. a low, amused laugh escapes him.
desperate. so pathetic.
yeonjun guides your legs onto his shoulders, lifting your hips. stars flare behind your eyelids as the tip of his cock finds exactly where you need it.
“‘mm— gonna cum.” you barely warn him, voice high and whiny, already trembling with need.
soobin exhales heavily, glancing back at his friend. “she’s always like this?”
yeonjun grips you harder, thrusting into you with a brutal force that borders on painful — and you love every second of it.
“yeah,” he pants, barely looking at soobin, eyes fixed on you. tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you take soobin in your mouth. “she's always this cockdrunk.”
just hearing the word is enough to let your body release all the built-up tension, flooding yeonjun's cock with your fluids. you moan loudly against soobin, the vibration tickling the tip of him.
“fuck, yeonjun, i’m gonna cum.” soobin warns, tilting his head back as you try to catch your breath, still sucking on him.
“no, don't—” your boyfriend says, shifting his attention to him with a sharp glance, pulling out of you to give you a moment to recover.
a moment so short you barely manage it.
in movements that felt almost torturous, yeonjun guided soobin until he was positioned over you. his instructions to you were clear. “on your back,” “look at him,” “hands up”
and you did, because by now you were fully wrapped up in everything happening.
soobin slides into you carefully, giving you time to adjust to his size. he isn’t as thick as yeonjun, but noticeably longer. his eyes stay on you the entire time, as if silently asking whether you’re alright, whether you’re sure about this.
and you are — you always are.
the dynamic with your boyfriend has been like this since the beginning of your relationship. he orders, you obey. yeonjun has a thing for control, and it goes beyond sex. in the middle of the street, in everyday life, even at work — he likes to give instructions, likes everyone to see that if there’s anyone who knows how to handle you properly, who knows exactly what you need, it’s him.
your eyes search for him because you can’t help it. even though soobin knows how to move and it feels fucking good, your pleasure answers to only one person in that room.
his gaze is locked on you, his hand wrapped around his hard cock. he barely moves it, almost as if he’s enjoying watching you more than touching himself.
you can see in his eyes that he’s enjoying this far more than he wants to admit.
“look at him.” he mouths the words — no sound needed. this is a punishment, one you’re both enjoying. a punishment for daring to think about someone else intimately.
and soobin? soobin gives you a raw thrust that drags you back to the present. so rough your eyes water.
because, yes. it feels soo good.
your back arches, your eyes roll, and a broken whine echoes through the room. your legs tremble — a confusing mix of ache and desire that you can’t translate into words, only into incoherent sounds.
soobin leans down just enough to keep thrusting into you in a way that feels impossibly deep, so deep your stomach tightens almost instantly. you glance down — a subtle bulge appearing in your abdomen with each snap of his hips. the sight is nearly as hypnotic as the movement itself.
finally, he kisses you. at first his lips only brush yours, almost as if he’s asking before pressing them fully against you. they’re full — like your boyfriend’s — but different, and for a second your mind blanks.
soobin kisses well. too well.
his thrusts pick up. faster. harder. relentless. the kiss that began slow and deep turns messy, urgent. one of his hands moves to your nipple, playing with it in a way that makes your back arch sharply, breaking the kiss with breathless moans.
but that doesn’t stop him.
“s’ tight,” he groans against your lips as his hips pick up more speed, pressing his forehead to yours. “you’re s’fucking tight.”
he says it like it’s a compliment you should be proud of, and your walls clench instinctively around his width in response.
“s-soobin— s’good—!” your voice comes out ridiculously high, exhausted but desperate. the sound of skin slapping skin is obscene, filthy — loud enough that the rest of the hotel floor could probably hear. you don’t care.
none of you do.
when you feel that internal tightening that tells you you’re close, you instinctively turn your head towards yeonjun — but soobin catches your jaw, guiding your face back to him. it isn’t rough. it’s surprisingly gentle for someone who feels seconds away from losing control.
his eyes are almost black, fixed on you with a hunger and a kind of desperation you’ve never seen in his usual calm composure.
you lift your hips just slightly, chasing your own release — adjusting the angle with deliberate precision. it tips you over the edge without warning. the orgasm hits hard, sudden, stealing the air from your lungs and blurring your vision.
“fuck, soobin—!” you cry out helplessly, right at the peak, while he keeps thrusting instead of slowing down. it’s overwhelming. delicious. almost too much.
“stay like that— just like that.” it sounds like an order and a plea at the same time. your eyes are hazy with pleasure, but you catch the exact moment he loses himself too — his brows knitting together, eyes squeezing shut as a broken, uncharacteristically raw groan tears from his throat.
his hips gradually slow after you feel him spill inside you — warm, sticky, intimate. you let your body fall back against the mattress, and he braces himself with one hand beside your head, keeping his weight from crushing you.
both of you are breathless. both of you wrecked.
the hand still resting on your chest gives a few lazy squeezes, like he’s trying to come back down from whatever just overtook him.
when you finally look at each other, you realise you look the same — wide, disbelieving eyes. flushed cheeks. swollen lips. shy, almost embarrassed little laughs slipping out under your breath.
and then, together, you turn to look at yeonjun.
his hand is still wrapped around his thick erection. his abdomen is tight, muscles drawn sharp beneath his skin. the veins in his arms stand out — and the ones along his length are even more pronounced.
he takes a few steps closer and, even though you feel like you’ve already given everything, you know this is where the real punishment begins.
soobin is still hard. still inside you. the only difference now is that you’re on top of him, the new position letting him reach even deeper. his hands cup your breasts, squeezing, thumbs circling your nipples in slow, deliberate motions.
but he isn’t the reason those shameless whimpers tear from your throat, nearly turning into cries.
it’s yeonjun.
the merciless thrusts he drives into you, fingers digging into your hip to hold you still as he pushes into your other hole — each movement sharp, controlled, unrelenting.
his other hand wraps around your throat — firm, precise — pressing in just the right places, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your head feel light, your pulse throb beneath his fingers.
“is this what you wanted?” he breathes against your ear, raw and unsteady. it sounds like a reprimand, jealousy tangled up with hunger. “to have us both inside you?”
soobin lifts his hips to meet you, driving deeper, faster. your sweet spot doesn’t get a second to recover — it’s struck again and again without mercy.
yeonjun’s skin slams against you, harsh and relentless. tears spill from your eyes. it hurts. but it feels so, so good.
the head of yeonjun’s cock hits exactly where it needs to — over and over again — rough, relentless, not once pausing to ask whether it hurts, whether you like it. you can feel his jealousy working itself out through every thrust, his grip on your hips unyielding, possessive. a reminder.
his words at your ear are clear. “don’t you— fucking dare to forget who you belong to.”
your eyes are on soobin — on the way he’s losing himself, the way he enjoys every drop of your weight onto his oversensitive length — but all your awareness is centred on yeonjun. on his hand at your throat. his voice. the punishing rhythm of his hips.
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you whimper, turning your face just enough to catch his gaze. “‘m–‘m shit—! ’m yours—ah!”
they both pick up the pace at the same time, like some unspoken agreement you’re not part of. your body is so overstimulated, so worn down, that your next orgasm climbs frighteningly fast.
third? fourth? you’ve lost count.
all you know is the knot tightening deep inside you — but this time it spreads. not just in your cunt. it coils through parts of you you didn’t even know could feel like this, building into something bigger, sharper, overwhelming.
the first thing you grab onto are soobin’s forearms. your nails dig into them, and the sting only makes his thrusts turn faster, rougher. you can feel it building again, that sharp, desperate need to come. it’s different this time. stronger. fuller. almost unbearable.
“mmm— pleasse—! i–i need—” you babble, because that’s all you are right now. a toy. something for them to use. you’re a wreck of incoherent, pathetic little sounds. “c–cum—! ’m going— i—!”
yeonjun’s mouth is at your neck, biting down, leaving possessive marks along the spots that make you tremble hardest. your cunt aches with pleasure, clenching tight around soobin as his fingers keep teasing your sensitive nipples, pushing you closer and closer.
at the same time, you feel yourself tighten around yeonjun too — your other hole fluttering helplessly as he groans low against your skin, his own release right on the brink of breaking.
“look at what you made me do,” he mutters against your skin, almost venomous. “attention whore — is that what you are?”
your nails dig deeper into soobin’s skin. you hear him groan at the sting, but you can’t stop. you’re too far gone.
yeonjun leans back to your ear, lips brushing the shell of it as he delivers the final words that split you open completely.
“so fucking mine.”
“yes—!” your voice comes out high, broken, shrill — right as your orgasm crashes into you at the same time as theirs. the three of you unravel together, bodies locking, tension snapping all at once. heat floods you, overwhelming, intimate, leaving you shaking through the aftershock.
your body and yeonjun’s both slump to the side of soobin, your boyfriend immediately wrapping his arms around your waist. even the softness of his touch makes you hypersensitive now — your whole body trembling, nerves misfiring like tiny electric shocks beneath your skin. you can’t even open your eyes properly.
“you did so well,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, his voice returning to that gentle, honeyed tone that always undoes you. “you’re so beautiful like this.”
another kiss — this time to your cheek.
soobin props his head on his hand, still catching his breath, watching the two of you quietly.
all three of you know this isn’t going to be a one-night thing.
He wanted you before. Thought it was just sex. Now he knows you were everything. And he’s not leaving until you let him stay again.
based on [this] request
Pairing: Yunho x fem!Reader
Tropes: Strangers to Friends to FWB to Lovers. (wow)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Brief Smut, Angst, Emotional Drama
Warnings: sexual content, consensual sex, friends-with-benefits / casual sexual dynamics, dominance & submission, sexual teasing / frustration, sexual tension and craving, jealousy, regret, guilt, emotional vulnerability, emotional manipulation, power dynamics, fear of loss / abandonment, anxiety, frustration, anger, emotional introspection, explicit language, sexual language, sexual objectification, relational stress, absence, longing, yearning, heartache, loneliness, embarrassment, humiliation, tension-filled conversations, alcohol
Word Count: 10k
masterlist
The bar is loud in a way that feels deserved. Long table. Shared plates passed hand to hand. Too many voices layered on top of each other. Coats slung over chairs like no one plans on leaving early.
Jihye drags you through the door by the wrist.
“You need to leave your house before you turn into furniture,” she says, already laughing, already halfway gone.
You roll your eyes but let her pull you anyway.
You don’t know anyone. Not really.
Jihye’s friends. Their partners. Friends-of-friends. A whole ecosystem already in motion. You step into it like a guest star with no script.
So you stay close to her at first. Shoulder to shoulder. Listening more than talking. Laughing quietly, hand rising to your mouth without thinking, like you’re checking yourself.
That’s when he appears.
No introduction. No announcement. He’s just there, sliding into the empty space beside you like it’s been waiting.
He notices things. You can feel it.
The way you anchor yourself to your friend at first. The way you watch the room before you speak. The way your laugh comes out soft at first, like you’re testing the water, then fuller when something actually gets you.
He doesn’t try to take up space. He doesn’t push conversation. Just offers small comments. Observations. Questions that don’t demand anything back.
It’s easy to answer him.
Easier than it should be.
He stays near you most of the night without meaning to. You stay aware of him without understanding why.
At some point, his chair shifts closer. Not touching. Just close enough that when he leans in to hear you over the noise, you catch the clean, faint scent of his shampoo.
It makes you pause. Just a flicker. Not attraction. Not nerves exactly. Just the sensation of being seen.
But it doesn’t turn sharp. It doesn’t turn heavy.
Because he’s gentle. Because none of this feels like it’s going anywhere it shouldn’t.
You talk at the edge of the noise. Quiet commentary. Shared humor that doesn’t need to be loud to land. You point things out to each other, details other people miss. It feels less like meeting someone new and more like finding someone who’s been speaking your language all along.
You clock his softness immediately. He clocks your attentiveness just as fast.
You don’t name it. You don’t even think to. There’s nothing to rush toward.
Something just settles between you. Quiet. Solid. Alive. After that night, everything it’s easy. Almost suspiciously so.
You don’t call it friendship yet, but it behaves like one.
Group hangouts blur together. Late dinners. Street food eaten standing up at midnight. Loud rooms. Too much alcohol. Too many conversations crossing over each other.
Always people. Always public.
And still, somehow, you and Yunho keep finding each other. You make space for him without thinking. Shift your chair. Move your bag. He angles his body toward yours even when the room is full, even when there’s no reason to.
There’s no flirting. No charged moments anyone could point at. Just comfort that deepens.
You’re a little touchy, but only because he makes you laugh. Not on purpose. He just does. The kind of laugh that punches out of you, ugly and full and unguarded. He looks proud every time it happens, like he’s accomplished something sacred.
You start doing things for him before he asks. Handing him water when he’s too deep into a story. Checking in with a look when he goes quiet. He doesn’t explain much yet, but somehow you still understand when something’s off.
You text at strange hours.
About the show you’re both watching. About the restaurant he tried and already knows you’d like. About nothing that couldn’t wait, except it didn’t want to.
At group hangouts, you catch yourself waiting for him to arrive. Not consciously. Just that the night doesn’t fully start until he does.
At the end of nights, you walk side by side. Close. Not touching. Conversations tapering into silence that doesn’t feel unfinished.
You laugh at something someone else says and instinctively look for him. He’s already looking at you.
Later, you bend forward laughing at the table, hand landing on his thigh for balance.
You don’t apologize. He doesn’t move.
It isn’t romance. It isn’t tension. It’s trust. It’s relief.
The hangouts keep happening.
Same faces. Same volume. Same rhythm of plates passed down tables that are always too small. Laughter layered over laughter. Elbows brushing. Knees knocking. A familiar chaos that feels lived in.
Until one night, it starts thinning.
People peel off in pairs and trios. Jackets claimed. Phones out. Someone hugs you with the soft finality of an ending night. The room exhales.
And suddenly, the idea of leaving alone lands wrong.
Not fear. You’re not afraid. It’s resistance. A quiet, stubborn no in your chest.
You don’t think it through. You just reach out and catch Yunho’s sleeve. Fingers curl into the fabric. Light. Intentional.
“Don’t let me go home alone,” you say, like it’s a joke. Like it’s nothing.
He doesn’t pause.
“Okay,” he says, already moving, already grabbing his coat.
The taxi smells like night air and clean laundry and something rancid you can’t name. The city blurs past in streaks of light. Your knees brush once. Then again. No one shifts away.
His hand finds your thigh.
Not searching. Not squeezing. Just there, like gravity.
Your breathing changes before you notice it has. The space between you tightens, thin and electric, but neither of you touches it with words. Talking would make it fragile.
You stop at a convenience store because neither of you is ready for the night to end yet. Cheap food. Sweet treats. Fluorescent lights flattening the world into something simple. You laugh too easily. He bumps your shoulder with his. It’s casual. Normal. Another night.
At your apartment, the lights are low. Shoes kicked off wherever they land. Food spread across the couch like an afterthought.
You sit too close. Knees touching. Shoulders brushing. Neither of you comments on it.
It feels domestic in a way that sneaks up on you. Not intimate. Just unguarded. Like this could be a habit if you let it.
You eat side by side, trading bites, talking about nothing that matters. Yunho says something dry, offhand. You laugh harder than it deserves. Head tipping back. Eyes closing for a second.
When you open them, he’s already looking at you.
Not intense. Not soft. Just focused.
Something shifts. No announcement. No spark. Just a quiet alignment, like two things clicking into place.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He kisses you.
Sudden. Clean. No warning at all.
His mouth is warm and sure and there, stealing the air from your lungs before your brain catches up.
You don’t know if it’s the alcohol. Or the closeness. Or the fact that you haven’t been touched in too long. Or that he’s right here and you’re tired of being careful.
You don’t stop it. You don’t analyze it. You let it happen.
For half a second, your body stills. Not from doubt. From surprise. From the sharp awareness that this could be nothing, and you want it anyway.
You grab his shirt and kiss him again. Harder. No hesitation this time. No questions asked.
No confession. No romance. Just two people in the same space, tipsy, lonely, bored enough to let whatever this is happen.
You straddle his lap, knees braced on either side of his thighs. He exhales ragged into your mouth, hands gripping your hips, sliding lower, pressing you closer, claiming.
Your fingers dig into his hair, nails scratching. He pants, moans, low and feral. You gasp against him, letting your body go, letting yourself want him like this.
He groans deep in his throat, hands sliding up your back, pulling you flush against him.
He lifts you without breaking the kiss, your feet barely touching the floor as he carries you down the hall. Every touch, every brush of skin, every press of his body against yours is magnified, electric, impossible to ignore.
The door slams. He pins you against it. Teeth graze your jaw. Tongue slides over yours. His hands roam over your thighs, hips, back, moving as if memorizing every curve, every shiver, every gasp.
You grind into him, desperate. He growls, low and wet, sliding his hands under your legs, rocking you into him. You moan, breathless, nails dragging down his back, hips meeting his every move.
He shifts you to the bed, upright, lips never leaving yours. Every touch, every press of his palm sets your nerves on fire. Your body writhes, presses, claws, wants more.
Bodies collide, grind, clutch, hungry, feral. Moans and gasps fill the room, raw and messy, every touch devouring, igniting.
He pauses, forehead to yours, panting, pupils blown, chest heaving. You don’t stop. You want more. He wants more.
Then he snaps back. Hard. Immediate. Reckless. You move like you’ve been starving, skin on fire, mouths and hands claiming.
Tonight isn’t slow. It isn’t careful. But it’s only the start.
Soft light leaks through the curtains like it’s being careful not to wake you.
The room smells like skin and sleep and sex. The sheets are twisted around your legs. Your body heavy in that boneless, floating way that only happens after a wild night.
You wake first.
Yunho is behind you, arm draped over your waist, weight solid and unthinking. His face is tucked into your back, breath slow, mouth warm against your shoulder blade. Asleep. Unaware. Completely relaxed in a way you’ve never seen him before.
There’s a moment. The kind your brain tries to label. The kind that usually comes with panic, or regret, or the frantic inventory of clothes on the floor.
None of that shows up.
Instead, there’s this quiet click inside your chest. Like something settling into place.
It was sudden. You know that. You barely know each other like this. You crossed a line without discussion, without rules, without promises.
And still. It fits.
His arm tightens slightly, reflexive, pulling you closer like his body knows before his mind does. Your back presses into his body. Your breath syncs with his without effort.
You don’t move. But your body remembers.
His hands, warm and big, sliding over your back, forcing your spine to arch just right, pressing you into every curve.
The way his mouth trailed over your back, teeth grazing, tongue running slow and rough, biting into the skin of your shoulder.
The memory of his length buried perfectly inside you, filling you exactly where it needed to.
How he’d groan low and rough, hand gripping your waist, sliding down your thighs, keeping you in place, keeping you his.
You shiver, remembering his long fingers slipping inside your hair as he pushed harder, as he whispered your name, as he claimed you over and over.
Remembering the burn of his bite as he came, spilling over your lower back, leaving hot streaks and marks only you would know.
Goosebumps rise across your arms. Heat pools low at the memories, wet and needy again just for him.
At some point he stirs.
Not fully awake. Just enough to nuzzle closer, nose brushing your neck, a quiet hum vibrating against your skin. Possessive without meaning to be. Familiar without earning it yet.
You don’t speak. Neither does he.
There’s no talk of what this means. No morning-after jokes. No scrambling for distance.
Just two bodies staying where they landed, and the unspoken understanding that whatever you did last night, neither of you is taking it back.
After that, it slips into place too smoothly to question.
You don’t label it. You don’t negotiate feelings or expectations. You just open a door and keep walking through it.
At first, it’s simple.
You text him late. He comes over. You don’t pretend it’s anything else.
You don’t stay the night. Neither does he.
He shows up when you ask, like this is a favor he’s happy to perform. You let him in already half undressed, already tired, already wanting to forget whatever version of the day you’re shedding at the door.
It’s efficient. Clean. Good.
He pays attention to your body in a way that feels practiced, not sentimental. Like he’s solving something, not attaching to it. You like that. You like not being looked at as fragile.
You can have a terrible day. A fight with your family. A small humiliation that sticks under your skin. You can be worn thin and irritable and quiet.
Yunho doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t pry.
He gives you a few hours where your head goes quiet.
Then, when it’s over, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, gathers his clothes from the floor, and leaves sometime around three in the morning.
No sleepovers. No breakfast. No lingering.
It’s cold in the way routines are cold. Comfortable. Dependable. Almost boring.
You tell yourself that’s the appeal, and for a while, it stays that way.
Until it doesn’t.
It starts with him staying because it’s late. Because it’s raining. Because the last train is gone and neither of you feels like pretending that matters.
You wake up with his arm around you and don’t move it away.
Showers stop being something you do separately.
They start innocent, water running over skin, hands adjusting shampoo or lathering soap.
But his hands don’t stay still for long.
They settle on your hips, warm and sure, pressing you against him. His lips find your neck, teeth grazing lightly, making you shiver and squirm, trying to rinse yourself but failing completely.
Before you know it, you’re pressed against the shower wall, his body flush against yours, hips moving, mouth hot and demanding.
The water streams over both of you, but neither of you notices. You barely manage to remind yourself to rinse again afterward.
It’s like he starts remembering you.
Not big things. Small ones. The kind you don’t notice until they’re there. He brings you water without asking. Knows when to slow down, when to push, when to just keep you close while you come back to yourself.
You tell yourself it’s nothing. That he’s just attentive. That this is what good sex looks like.
But then you start seeing each other outside of bedrooms.
Quick dinners that turn into hours. Late nights that don’t end when the drinks do. Sometimes you skip group hangouts entirely and don’t explain why. Music low. Windows open. Your leg thrown over him without thinking.
Sometimes you still show up with everyone else. You sit beside him like always. You laugh. You act normal.
You don’t hide. But you don’t explain either.
There’s an ease to it that makes people stop asking questions.
The sex deepens without losing its edge.
Still wild. Still dirty in a way that makes your skin tingle. But threaded through with something quieter. The way he touches you like he’s learning you all over again every time. The way he steadies you because he knows exactly how you unravel.
Foreheads pressed together. Breaths shared. His voice low in your ear, grounding, almost caring.
Aftercare becomes a language of its own.
Cold water pressed into your hands. Soft laughter in the dark. Fingers brushing your hair back from your face.
You start staying the night more often than not. You fall asleep with your face pressed into his neck, like his scent has become something your body looks for.
Leaving gets harder. You linger. You move slower. You invent reasons to stay another ten minutes.
Yunho is confident, but never careless. Dominant without cruelty. He makes you feel wanted without making you feel owned.
You enjoy it. You don’t overthink it.
At first.
You tell yourself this is just sex. Just timing. Just two adults meeting each other where they are.
And for a while, that feels true.
But you realize one night, halfway home from his place, that you haven’t slept with anyone else. Not because you agreed not to. Not because you promised anything. Just because the idea doesn’t appeal to you.
Why would it, when Yunho is there whenever you need him?
You don’t panic about it. You file it under convenience. Familiarity. Habit.
But then you catch yourself waiting for his texts.
Checking your phone when there’s no reason to. Feeling something sharp twist in your chest when he takes longer than usual to answer, then swallowing it down immediately.
Jealousy doesn’t belong in the story you’ve told yourself.
So you don’t let it stay.
You still act the same.
You still joke. Still tease him. Still pull him close like nothing’s changed, still let your body speak the language you agreed on.
You still fuck him like this is just what you do.
You still show up to group hangouts and laugh and play your part perfectly.
But something in you has shifted.
Your energy softens without your permission. You hold his gaze longer. Touch him more when you don’t need to. Your hands linger at his neck, his wrist, memorizing him.
You don’t rush away afterward anymore. You stay. Let him pull you in. Let your breathing match his. Let the quiet stretch.
You wake up more often pressed into his chest than not.
Yunho notices. He always does.
One night, when the room is dark and calm and his chin is resting lightly against your head, he asks,
“You okay?”
It’s gentle. Careful. Almost afraid of the answer.
You respond too fast.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
He hums, unconvinced, but lets it go.
You lie awake long after he falls asleep, staring at the wall, heart pounding like it’s trying to warn you.
Because you’re not fine.
You’re splitting yourself in two every time you leave him.
One part of you stays behind, curled in his sheets, breathing him in. The other walks away pretending this doesn’t hurt.
You’re training your body to recognize him as home while pretending your heart doesn’t know it yet.
And one night, watching him sleep, you understand with sudden, terrifying clarity:
If you don’t say something soon, you’re going to lose yourself.
So you memorize everything instead.
The weight of his arm. The sound of his breathing. The way his thumb twitches in sleep like he’s still holding on.
Just in case anything goes wrong.
It’s one of those nights.
The kind that feels uncontained. Like everything is louder, hotter, closer. Yunho’s apartment smells like sweat and skin and the faint citrus of soap. Music long forgotten. Windows cracked open to the city breathing in.
The sex is messy. Unfiltered. Hungry, like you’re both trying to say something without language.
You ride him, hips snapping hard, letting all your frustration spill out. Each move drags out a groan from him. He doesn’t stop you. Doesn’t even try.
For the first time in forever, he lets you take control.
He knows you needed this, knows you needed him when you called mid-rage, teeth clenched, after your coworker screwed up and your boss tore into you.
He knows you too well now. Knows how to pull you apart and put you back together with the same patience. Knows how to keep you right on the edge, murmuring your name like it’s grounding him too.
After, you’re tangled together. Skin still hot. Your body thrown over his, his palm resting absentmindedly at your hip like it belongs there.
Your heart won’t slow down.
This feels like the moment. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s honest. Because you can’t keep carrying this alone.
You stare at the wall for a second, then turn your head toward him. You don’t rush it. You don’t dramatize it. You don’t want to scare him off.
“So,” you say lightly, almost smiling. Too casually for how tight your chest feels. “Just so we’re on the same page.”
Yunho hums, distracted, thumb absentminded where your hip meets the mattress. Comfortable. Easy. Like this conversation is already solved.
“I haven’t slept with anyone else,” you start. Soft. Neutral.
He doesn’t react right away, just nods, like you’ve told him what you had for lunch.
You swallow.
“Not since you.”
That makes his hand still.
You take a breath before you lose your nerve. Your hands feel useless, so you press them against yourself. You’re suddenly very aware of your body. Of how exposed you are. Of how you chose to say this.
“I really like you,” you say. No jokes. No cushion. “And I think I want more than… whatever this is.”
Silence.
Not the heavy kind. The empty kind. The kind that doesn’t rush to meet you halfway.
Yunho exhales slowly. Runs a hand through his hair. His body stays close, but something in him shuts a door.
He doesn’t look at you at first.
When he does, his expression is gentle. Careful. Already apologetic.
“I really like what we have,” he says. The words are calm. Practiced. Like he’s been here before. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”
You nod automatically, like your body is trying to keep up appearances.
“I’m not really looking for anything more serious right now,” he adds. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”
He keeps talking.
About timing. About how easy this is. About how good it feels when things don’t have expectations attached. About how this doesn’t have to be complicated unless you make it that way.
You stop listening for meaning.
All you hear is no.
Heat floods your face. Sudden. Nauseating. You feel stupid. Too earnest. Like you misread a room you’ve been standing in for months.
You sit up abruptly.
The sheet slides down your body, and the movement feels obscene now. Wrong. You scramble to pull it back up, arms crossing over your chest, clumsy and embarrassed.
God. You were naked when you said it.
You were naked when you offered him your heart.
Your throat tightens.
“Okay,” you say quickly. Too quickly. Like you’re reassuring him.
You reach for your clothes.
Yunho frowns, sitting up too, confusion flashing across his face.
“Wait,” he says. “Hey—no, I didn’t mean—”
You stand, grabbing your underwear from the floor, turning your back to him as you put them on with shaking hands.
Your voice comes out steadier than you feel.
“We should stop whatever this is.”
The air shifts.
“What?” He straightens. “Why would we—no, why?”
His words come faster now, tripping over each other.
“We don’t have to stop. We can still see each other. This doesn’t have to change. I just think what we have is good, you know?”
That’s the moment it really breaks you.
Not when he said no.
When he offered you less.
You let out a short, breathless laugh. It surprises even you. Sharp. Ugly. It cracks right through the room.
You pull your shirt over your head, quickly and almost panicking.
“No,” you say, still smiling a little, like the laugh left a bruise. “I don’t want to keep sleeping with someone who’s already decided I’m optional.”
He goes quiet.
“I won’t be convenient,” you add. Softer now. Final.
You finish dressing. Jeans. Shoes. Your movements feel mechanical, like you’re watching yourself from somewhere far away.
You grab your coat.
“Please,” he says, planning to reach for you, but his voice breaks just enough to hurt. “Don’t go like this.”
You pause with your hand on the door.
You don’t turn around.
“I meant what I said,” you tell him. “I really liked you.”
Then you leave, closing the door loudly behind you.
Yunho stays where he is. Naked. Sheets twisted in his fists. Hair a mess. Heart racing, body still buzzing with something that has nowhere to go now.
The high crashes hard.
The apartment feels suddenly too big. Too quiet.
He stares at the door long after you’re gone, confused, breathless, empty.
He doesn’t understand what he just lost. Not yet.
So he does what he always does when something hurts but doesn’t have a name. He organizes it.
He tells himself it makes sense. People stop sleeping together all the time. This wasn’t a relationship. There were no rules to break, no promises to mourn. Just timing. Just sex. Just convenience.
He showers. He washes your scent off his hands like it’s a routine he’s finished with. He changes the sheets. Not dramatically. Just because they’re dirty.
He goes to bed alone and tells himself it’s temporary. That bodies adjust. That habits fade. That this is nothing he hasn’t survived before.
In the days that follow, Yunho keeps functioning. That’s the word he uses in his head. Functioning.
He shows up. He laughs on cue. He answers messages with the same timing as always, the same punctuation, the same neutral warmth. You become something he keeps sealed. A closed folder. A finished file. A choice already made.
He tells himself he misses you the way you miss a shortcut you stopped taking. Mildly. Absentmindedly. Like something convenient that no longer exists.
He even texts you once.
Nothing loaded. Nothing risky. A stupid meme he would’ve sent without thinking before. No subtext. No weight.
You don’t answer.
The second day, he tries again. An inside joke, softened, stripped clean of intimacy. Something that could belong to any friend.
Still nothing.
On the third day, your reply comes.
Short. Polite. Late. A smiley face that doesn’t actually mean anything.
That’s when it lands.
The quiet understanding that whatever existed between you doesn’t downgrade into friendship. It doesn’t revert. It doesn’t survive the change intact.
This isn’t going to be the same.
He tells himself that’s fine. People unlearn closeness all the time.
What he misses first is you as a presence. As someone who knew things about him without asking. You learned each other sideways. Through pauses, habits, half-moments that were never labeled important but stayed anyway.
That kind of knowing doesn’t dissolve cleanly.
At the first group hangout, something feels wrong before he can name it.
You’re there. Laughing. Engaged. Sitting across the table instead of beside him. You greet him easily, like nothing ever lodged itself between your ribs and stayed there.
You don’t touch him.
Not when you laugh too hard and lean forward. Not when you reach past him for a drink. Not when someone says something that would’ve earned him a look before. Your hands stay to yourself.
The inside jokes die quietly. No confrontation. No tension. Just no one reaching for them anymore.
You talk like adults who know how to behave. Friendly. Considerate. Practiced.
It’s unbearable in its restraint.
He notices the absence in his body before it ever reaches his heart.
His thigh stays untouched. His arm stays empty when you get tipsy. You don’t lean into him like gravity is optional anymore.
You don’t look for him when you laugh.
You don’t text him when something reminds you of him. You don’t send songs. You don’t ask if he ate.
It isn’t anger. That would be easier.
It’s distance.
And his body doesn’t know what to do with it.
He reaches for you without thinking sometimes. A hand lifting, stopping midair. Muscles remembering something his mind insists wasn’t that serious.
At night, his apartment feels wrong.
The bed is too wide. The sheets stay cold. There’s a clean, undeniable space beside him now. And his body keeps turning toward it anyway.
He tells himself he misses the sex.
That lie lasts exactly three nights.
Because what he actually aches for isn’t release. It’s memory. Your weight tucked into his side. The way you softened after. The way your breathing evened out against his chest. The sigh you made when he pulled you closer, like you’d been waiting for it.
His body knows before he does.
Then one night, the group gathers again. Same bar. Same noise. Same long table.
Something is wrong the moment Yunho sits down.
He scans the room without meaning to.
You’re not there.
“Uh… do you know if she’s coming?” he asks, voice lowered, like the question itself might expose him.
“She should be here soon,” Jihye says. Then, curious. “Why?”
“Nothing,” he answers too quickly, and hates that his pulse refuses to settle.
When the door opens, he looks up without thinking.
And there you are.
Smiling. Relaxed. Different.
And not alone.
The guy beside you is tall, easy in his skin. His arm rests around your shoulders like it belongs there, like it found its place quickly and never questioned it. You lean into him without hesitation.
Yunho freezes.
Something sharp twists low in his chest, sudden and disorienting. Jealousy hits like vertigo, the ground dropping out from under him.
His first instinct is denial.
He studies the guy the way he studies problems. Searches for flaws. For reasons this shouldn’t work.
There aren’t many.
He listens when you talk. Laughs at the right moments. Touches you like it’s allowed. Like it’s expected.
The worst part is how easy it looks.
You look good with him.
Yunho stays quiet, fingers clenched around his glass, watching something he never let himself want take shape right in front of him. He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t react. Barely breathes.
And that’s when it finally clicks.
Not when he lost your bed.
When he lost your attention.
When he lost the way you used to turn toward him without thinking, like he was your default setting. Like he was where you landed when you didn’t have to choose.
He didn’t just lose your body.
He lost your heart. Your laugh. Your softness. The way you chose him without strategy, without fear, without holding something back.
And now he has to sit across the table and watch someone else receive it.
Not steal it. Not borrow it.
Receive it.
Later, he tells himself he’s just curious.
He opens your socials without thinking, thumb hovering where it doesn’t belong. He doesn’t like anything. Doesn’t comment. Doesn’t insert himself back into your life. He just watches, pretending that’s cleaner.
You’ve changed what you post.
Not dramatically. Just enough to hurt.
The little things you used to send only him are gone. Song screenshots. Blurry streetlights. Half-eaten meals with no caption because the commentary was meant for him.
Now it’s faces. Moments. Other people.
He notices the absence like a bruise he keeps pressing, checking if it still hurts.
It does. Every time.
You laugh in a video someone tags you in. Head thrown back, unguarded, bright. He hasn’t heard that laugh aimed at him in months. Not since before the door closed. Not since you stopped choosing him without thinking.
He watches it once.
Then again.
Hates himself for both.
At the next group hangout, he knows before he sees it.
You’re there, sitting on the new guy’s lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your hand rests on his thigh, fingers absentminded, intimate and natural. His arm is snug around your waist, thumb tracing slow circles like he has nowhere else to be.
Like he’s proud to be there.
Yunho’s breath stutters.
The room keeps moving, laughter rising and falling, glasses clinking, but something inside him stalls completely. He can’t look away. Can’t look anywhere else.
That used to be him.
Not the lap. The ease.
The way you settled into someone without checking if it was allowed. The way your body trusted without negotiation.
He looks down at his drink because suddenly he feels exposed, like everyone can see the thought ripping through him.
And the worst part?
He doesn’t get to be angry.
He doesn’t get to flinch when someone else touches you. Doesn’t get to look wounded when you’re adored openly, held without hesitation by another man.
He rejected you.
He handed you away.
So he sits there in silence, watching someone else do everything he was too afraid to claim, knowing he forfeited the right to say anything about it to anyone.
That night, he goes home alone.
The apartment greets him with silence. No extra shoes by the door. No laugh from the couch. No weight in his bed forcing him to the edge.
He sits on the mattress and opens your text thread before he remembers he shouldn’t.
Your name is still there. The last message still his. Something stupid. Something unfinished.
He doesn’t type.
He just stares, struck by the terrifying thought that this might be it. That this might be all he ever gets to keep.
Then he opens the playlist.
The one you made together that night waiting for takeout, sprawled on the floor, arguing over song choices like it mattered. You’d leaned against his leg, humming along, completely at home.
The first track starts.
And suddenly, you’re everywhere.
The way you used to fall asleep against him, warm and trusting. The way your fingers curled into his shirt in your sleep like a reflex. The sigh you made when he pulled you closer, like you’d been waiting for it.
He presses his palms into his eyes, breath shaking.
He’s scared now.
Not of commitment. Not of wanting too much.
He’s scared he lost you forever because he mistook safety for distance and caution for control.
For the first time, Yunho knows with brutal clarity:
He doesn’t just want you back.
He needs you.
And he has no idea how to earn you again. But he’s going to try.
He starts small.
A message he types and deletes. A reply in the group chat aimed too precisely to be accidental. Standing a little too close, then catching himself, stepping back like he’s memorized the distance now.
He tells himself patience is respect. That restraint counts for something.
Then one night, while everyone’s arguing over shots and laughing too loud, he catches you alone by the bar.
The space is narrow. No audience. No buffer.
“Hey,” he says, softer than he planned.
You turn.
Polite. Neutral. Guard already in place.
“Hi.”
The pause stretches. It’s unbearable. He hates how careful you look now, like you’re bracing for impact from someone who already proved he can’t be trusted with momentum.
“I was wondering if we could talk,” he says. “Just for a minute.”
You don’t scoff. You don’t roll your eyes.
“I’m with someone now,” you say calmly.
Not sharp. Not defensive.
Just factual.
The words hit anyway. Clean. Direct. No room to negotiate around them.
“I know,” he says too fast. “I’m not trying to— I just thought maybe I could explain.”
You shake your head, barely.
“You don’t need to.”
Something in his chest splinters.
“I was wrong,” he says. Quiet. Stripped. “I didn’t handle things right. I didn’t see what I had until—”
“You saw it,” you interrupt gently. “You just didn’t choose it.”
The distinction lands heavier than anger ever could.
He swallows. Tries again, voice cracking despite his effort to keep it steady.
“I was scared. I thought if I let it become real, I’d ruin it. I didn’t want to lose you.”
You look at him then. Really look.
“You already had me once.”
That’s the moment that ruins him.
Because you’re not accusing. You’re explaining. Drawing a line with care, not cruelty.
You don’t punish him. You don’t raise your voice. You don’t ask for apologies you already know won’t change anything.
You protect yourself.
“I’m not doing this,” you add softly. “Please don’t make me.”
Something ugly flashes across his face. Not anger. Panic, turning desperate.
“So what?” he says, too fast. “You just… went with the easy option?” he asks. Too fast. Too raw. “Someone new. Someone who’d give you the attention you need?”
The words hit the air and rot instantly.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says right away, voice dropping. “I’m sorry. That was— that was cruel. I shouldn’t have said that.”
You don’t snap. You don’t defend yourself. You just look at him, steady and tired. Almost disappointed.
“It wasn’t easy,” you say. “I just stopped hoping for you.”
That lands harder than a fight would’ve.
He swallows, nods once like he’s absorbing a blow.
Weeks later, he tries again.
Cornered courage. Hands shoved into his pockets like he’s afraid of what they’ll reach for if left loose.
“I miss you,” he says. No polish. No strategy. Just truth bleeding out.
You exhale slowly, like you’ve had this conversation in your head already.
“Please don’t,” you say. “I’m asking you to stop.”
“I can’t just forget you,” he says, quiet but urgent. “You mattered. You still do.”
“I know,” you reply. “But that doesn’t mean you get access to me anymore.”
That’s when he finally breaks.
“I need you,” he admits, barely above a whisper. Not a confession. Not a plea dressed up as romance. Just need, raw and humiliating.
You close your eyes for half a second.
Then you open them.
“I need you to let me go.”
You turn to go. As you pass him, he whispers it without thinking, without control.
“I can’t.”
You hear it, but choose not to answer.
And that’s the moment Yunho understands.
This isn’t about timing. Or fear. Or missed chances he can argue his way back into.
This is consequences.
And he learns the slow, brutal lesson of it.
That wanting forgiveness doesn’t entitle him to it. That regret doesn’t reverse time. That loving you now doesn’t erase that he couldn’t choose you then.
So he adapts. He files you away into the part of himself he doesn’t touch unless he has to.
Turns longing into routine. Turns regret into background noise.
Weeks pass. Then months.
Your absence stops feeling sharp and starts feeling structural, like a missing wall he’s learned to walk around. He tells himself this is what moving on looks like. Not relief. Just endurance.
Then, one night, the world reaches back in and says your name.
They’re at Mingi’s apartment, sprawled across couches and floor cushions, controllers warm in their hands. It’s late. Too late. The kind of hour where the lights are low, the game volume is too loud, and no one’s pretending they’re not tired anymore.
Someone’s lost for the third time in a row. Wooyoung complains. Mingi throws popcorn at him. San’s scrolling on his phone, only half paying attention.
He mentions it like it’s nothing.
“By the way,” San says, eyes still on the screen, “did you guys hear she and that guy broke up?”
Yunho freezes.
Controller still in his hands. Thumbs hovering. Chest jolting once, hard, like it’s checking whether it’s allowed to react.
“What?” Seonghwa asks from the armchair. “Seriously? They were basically perfect.”
“Right?” Wooyoung adds. “Good job, good guy, attentive. Honestly kind of weird she dumped him. They looked solid.”
Weird.
The game resumes. Someone yells. Someone dies. The room keeps moving.
Yunho doesn’t.
All he hears is your name. And then the absence of someone else beside it.
He should feel bad. That’s the correct response. Someone ended a relationship. Someone got hurt.
He doesn’t.
What he feels is air. Sudden and dizzying. Like a window opening in a room he didn’t know had been suffocating him.
Hope sparks before he can stop it. Warm. Reckless. Immediate.
He drops his gaze to the controller because he doesn’t trust his face. His mouth still twitches anyway. The smallest smile. The first one in weeks that doesn’t feel rehearsed.
You’re single.
His chest warms immediately, that familiar, dangerous heat flaring back to life like it never left. Like it’s been waiting.
He doesn’t wonder why you ended it. Doesn’t think about timing or decency or what it says about him that this feels like good news.
He just knows one thing, with absolute clarity.
This is his moment.
All the restraint he’s been forcing on himself loosens at once. The quiet suffering. The careful distance. The pretending that patience was the same thing as acceptance.
Gone.
He doesn’t care that he already failed once. Doesn’t care that he doesn’t deserve another chance. Doesn’t care that this could implode spectacularly.
You’re free again.
And this time, he’s not going to hover. Not going to hesitate. Not going to confuse fear with respect.
He’s going to gain you back.
The game ends. Someone groans. Someone reaches for a drink.
Yunho sets the controller down.
“Already?” Mingi asks, blinking at him from the floor. “It’s not even—”
“I gotta go,” Yunho says, already standing.
“Now?” Wooyoung frowns. “It’s like—”
“Yeah. Now.”
He grabs his jacket from the rack, movements rushed, barely controlled. His heart is beating too fast. His hands feel light, they’re trembling slightly.
“Everything okay?” San asks, finally looking up.
Yunho doesn’t answer. He’s already halfway to the door.
“I’ll text,” he throws over his shoulder.
“Yunho, wait, what—”
The door slams shut behind him.
Cold air hits his face. He exhales sharply, like he’s been holding his breath for weeks.
He flags down a taxi with a raised hand that’s shaking just a little too much now.
“Address?” the driver asks.
He blurts yours without hesitation. Like his brain’s been rehearsing it.
The door closes. The car pulls away.
And suddenly he’s bouncing his leg like a man possessed, knee knocking against the seat, fingers pressed to his lips. Every red light is personal. He leans forward, watching the city, willing it to move faster.
He knows the neighborhood before the driver says a word. That bakery. The flickering streetlight. The chipped paint near your door.
“Here,” he says, already reaching for his wallet. “You can stop here.”
He’s out before the car stops completely.
The walk to your door feels longer than the entire drive. His heart is loud now. His thoughts trip over each other.
What if you don’t open? What if you tell him to leave? What if he ruins this too?
He stops in front of your door. Raises his hand. Pauses. Then knocks.
You open it after a moment. You’re not surprised. Of course you’re not. You clock him instantly, the rushed breathing, the way he’s standing like he might bolt.
“Hey,” he says, softer now. “I just… I heard.”
You don’t invite him in. You lean against the doorframe instead, arms crossing loosely. Calm. Collected. That look you’ve perfected. The one that says you’re in control.
“I figured,” you say. “You don’t usually show up like this unless you want something.”
There it is. Precise. A warning.
He swallows.
“I wanted to check on you,” he says. “As a friend.”
You lift an eyebrow.
“Do you really want to start with a lie?”
He winces.
“…No.”
Silence stretches between you. It’s unbearable.
You sigh, looking past him for a second, then back again.
“I’m fine,” you say. “If that’s what you came to ask.”
“That’s not,” he blurts, then stops himself. Recalibrates. Tries again. “I mean, it is. But also—it’s not the reason I’m here.”
You don’t prompt him.
“I didn’t plan this,” he says, voice a little too fast. “I mean, I planned to come, but I didn’t script anything. The second I heard, my head just… shut down.”
You cross your arms, defensive but still listening. Against your better judgment.
“I told myself I’d respect what you asked for,” he continues. “And I did. I stayed away. But I need you to listen to me.”
“You don’t get to show up now just because I’m single again,” you say. Firm. Protective. “I won’t be the girl you realize you want only after someone else had me.”
“I know,” he says immediately. “And if that’s all this was, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Then what is it?” you ask.
He hesitates. His hands flex at his sides, restless. Nervous in a way you’ve never seen him before.
“This… this is me admitting I didn’t understand what I had until it was gone,” he says. “And instead of facing it, I ran.”
He meets your eyes fully now.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he adds quickly. “I’m not asking for a reset. I just needed you to know that not choosing you back was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
You look at him for a long moment.
“You hurt me,” you say quietly.
“I know,” he says. “And I don’t get to undo that. All I can do is show you I understand it now.”
A beat.
“If you tell me to leave, I will,” he continues. “If you tell me it’s too late, I’ll respect that. I just couldn’t live with not being honest anymore.”
Your defenses crack, slow and unwilling.
“You are late,” you murmur.
“I know,” he says. No argument. No excuse. “But I’m here on purpose this time.”
You close your eyes. Breathe. When you open them, he’s still there. Still waiting.
“…Come in,” you say.
His breath leaves him in a rush, relief sharp enough to make him dizzy.
He steps inside like he’s been allowed into something sacred. Careful. Measured. As if one wrong move could get him sent back out.
Your place smells like you. Familiar in a way that hits him low and unfair. You’re already walking toward the kitchen, unhurried, dressed in soft lounge clothes that shouldn’t be distracting but somehow are. Soft fabric. Bare arms. Effortless.
You’ve always been devastating without trying.
Yunho stays rooted in the middle of the living room, hands flexing like they don’t know what to do without you telling them.
You don’t ask what he wants to drink.
You never did.
You pour automatically. Ice clinks against glass, sharp in the quiet. You’re not rushing him. You’re letting the silence work. Letting him feel it.
He fills it anyway.
“I miss your body,” he says. Plain. Unarmored. “And I hate how honest that is.”
Your brow lifts, amused. Curious. Dangerous.
You hand him the glass without looking at him. Your fingers don’t brush his.
“Oh?” you murmur. “That’s what you crossed the city to confess?”
He shakes his head immediately. Too fast.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” A breath leaves him, rough. He drags a hand through his hair. “I miss the way you moved like you knew exactly what you were doing to me. Like you weren’t performing, you were just present. With me.”
You lean back against the counter, finally facing him. Calm. Unreadable. Waiting.
“I miss how you never held back with me,” he says. “How you trusted me with the parts of you that weren’t polite. The sounds. The way you’d pull me closer when it got overwhelming instead of pushing me away.”
He takes a step forward without thinking. Stops himself like it burns.
“And I know I could sleep with anyone,” he continues, voice lowering. “I did. It was fine.” A bitter huff. “But it was empty. Because it wasn’t you.”
That’s where his voice slips. Just enough to hear it.
“It wasn’t just sex,” he says. “It was you paying attention to me. Seeing me. Touch was the only way I knew how to say how much I admired you. It felt… bigger than words.”
“You didn’t choose me when it mattered,” you say. Soft. Steady. Unarguable.
He flinches anyway.
“I know,” he says. Not rushed this time. “And I didn’t realize what that choice actually was when I made it.”
Your jaw tightens.
“I didn’t feel nothing,” he admits. “That’s the worst part. I felt calm. With you. Safe. Like I didn’t have to perform or impress or be anything other than myself.”
He shakes his head, frustrated with himself.
“And I mistook that for it not being serious.”
Your eyes flicker.
“I told myself that if it didn’t feel chaotic, it couldn’t be love. That if it didn’t scare me every second, then it was just comfort. Just sex. Just timing.”
He lets out a short, humorless laugh.
“I didn’t understand that peace doesn’t mean absence. It means trust.”
Your chest tightens despite yourself.
“I didn’t wake up one day jealous,” he continues. I woke up and everything was… off. Nothing made sense without you there.”
You glance at him sharply.
“I noticed because I missed you,” he says. “As a person. As my person. In my day. In my space. In the way I think.”
His voice drops. He steps closer, not touching, careful like you might spook.
“And then I realized… I hadn’t lost sex. I’d lost access. To you.”
Silence presses in again.
You exhale slowly.
You take a sip of your drink, buying yourself time.
“So,” you say. “What is this. An apology tour?”
He shakes his head.
“No. It’s a request. A slow one.” He swallows. “I want the chance to earn my way back into your life. And if that takes watching you look at me like this for a while, I’ll take it.”
You set your glass down slowly.
You step closer. Slow enough to make it intentional.
He keeps his eyes on the floor, like if he looks at you, he’ll lose the nerve he barely has.
“You left me naked and humiliated,” you say evenly. “You don’t get to rush anything.”
“I know,” he says. No hesitation. “I won’t.”
A beat.
“I learned something about you,” he adds, softer. “You don’t fold when someone pushes. You fold when you feel safe.”
His eyes flick up, searching for damage.
“I’m not touching you tonight unless you tell me to,” he says. “I’m not pushing. I’m not asking for shortcuts. I’ll stand right here and tell you the truth until you’re bored of hearing it, if that’s what it takes.”
You study him. The restraint. The way he’s clearly aching and still choosing to stay still.
You already know what you want.
You just need to know if he’s strong enough to wait for it. You just want to see how far he’s willing to go for it.
“…Keep talking,” you say.
And Yunho does.
Because for the first time, he understands that wanting you isn’t the risk.
Losing you was.
Yunho clears his throat, like he’s stepping into a wave he knows will knock him under.
“You ruined casual for me,” he says quietly. “And I didn’t understand that until you were gone.”
“Yunho,” you say softly.
“I need you,” he continues. No flourish. No charm. “I need you to choose me again.”
You hum softly, circling him now. Letting him feel you without touching.
“I fucked up,” he continues. “I was an idiot, and I let that cost me you. I won’t do that again. I swear I won’t.”
“Yunho,” you repeat, trying to catch his attention.
He finally lifts his gaze.
You’re close now. Close enough to steal his breath without touching him.
You reach past him, take the untouched glass from his hand, set it on the island behind you. Your fingers linger on the counter. Not on him.
That’s when it hits him.
His breath stutters.
“I didn’t mean to sound desperate,” he murmurs.
You smile. Slow. Satisfied.
“I know,” you say. “You just are.”
Something in him breaks open at that. His lips part like he might actually sink to his knees from the permission alone.
And then, finally, you let your fingers brush his wrist. Barely there. A promise, not a reward.
Your hand finds his forearm. So light he almost laughs, breathless, convinced for half a second that it’s memory, not reality.
Then you move. Slow. Intentional. Up his side. Along his arm.
Yunho swallows hard.
Your fingers slide higher, grazing his bicep, your touch feather-soft, cruel in its patience.
You say nothing.
That makes him nervous.
“I miss you,” he says again, more desperately now. “I ache for you. I wake up reaching for you. I fall asleep hearing your voice in my head. I keep replaying that night, what you said to me—”
Your hand squeezes his shoulder. Firm. Anchoring.
He exhales, shaking.
“Please,” he murmurs. “Tell me you still meant it.”
Your hand keeps climbing until your palm cups his jaw.
He goes utterly still.
Your thumb brushes his lower lip. Slow. Thoughtful. Claiming. His silence is immediate, absolute.
Now it’s your turn.
“I tried to forget you,” you say quietly. “God knows I tried.”
Your thumb traces his lip again, almost absent.
“When you said no to me… it felt like something split open,” you continue. “Like I’d made myself small enough to fit into your hands, and you still let me fall.”
His eyes shine. He doesn’t interrupt. He wouldn’t dare.
“So I did the easy thing,” you admit. “I dated someone who was there. Someone handsome. Someone safe. Someone who wanted me without hesitation.”
A soft, bitter smile curves your mouth.
“They say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone,” You shake your head. “It’s a lie.”
Your grip tightens slightly at his jaw.
“All it did was make it clearer,” you whisper. “That it was always you. That it never stopped being you.”
His hands twitch at his sides, restrained by sheer will.
“I felt selfish,” you say. “For trying to cover a wound you left with someone else. For pretending you were replaceable.”
You lean in until he can feel your breath.
“You weren’t,” you finish. “Because no one ever touched me the way you did. No one ever saw me the way you did.”
The silence is dense. Charged.
Your thumb stills on his lip.
“And now,” you say softly, dangerously, “you’re here. Begging.”
His voice breaks when he answers.
“Because I love you,” Yunho says. No fear left. No hedging. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I deserve you, if you let me.”
You lift your other hand.
Now you’re holding his face with both palms, thumbs warm against his skin. He looks wrecked. Wide-eyed. Bare. Like he’s bracing for either salvation or another fall.
Your eyes soften. Pityful. Hungry.
You rise onto your toes and press a kiss to his mouth.
Light. Teasing. Testing.
It barely lasts a second.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t chase it. Doesn’t take more than you give. He just breathes in sharply, like he’s afraid to shatter the moment by wanting too loudly, too soon.
You pull back enough to see his expression.
And you laugh.
Just a little. Soft. Fond. Amused by how undone he looks.
Then you kiss him again.
This time there’s no hesitation.
His restraint collapses instantly. His arms come around you, firm and sure, pulling you into his chest like he’s afraid you might disappear if there’s even an inch of space left between you.
The kiss turns messy. Uncareful. Hungry in a way that has nothing to do with urgency and everything to do with relief.
It tastes different.
You both feel it.
There’s no desperation in it now. No proving. No bargaining. Just recognition. Like something has finally slotted back into place.
He tightens his hold when you shift, one hand cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to keep you close. The other settles around your waist, grounding and claiming you, pulling you until your body fits against his, remembering instinctively how to do this.
He doesn’t want to break the kiss.
Not now. Not after finally getting you back.
So he keeps kissing you, slower now, deeper, like he’s trying to remember the exact shape of your mouth after all this time. No rush. No hunger sharp enough to hurt. Just warmth and familiarity settling back into place.
Then, right when you think he’s about to escalate things, he breaks the kiss.
Not abruptly. Reluctantly. Forehead resting against yours, breath still uneven.
“W-wait…” he murmurs, voice low, rough.
His words stumble over themselves, shivering out of his mouth like his body doesn’t want to obey his brain.
“I… I just—” He swallows, hitches a breath. His fingers twitch, then still. His chest rises and falls too fast.
You hum in question, hands still holding his face. Your warmth, your presence, slows him down.
He swallows, eyes flicking down and then back up to yours, suddenly uncertain in a way that’s almost endearing, and he tries again, clearer now.
“Would it be okay if…” He hesitates, lips parting, then blurts it out before he can overthink it. “If we just— if you’d let me stay? Tonight. Just sleep. With you.”
You blink.
He rushes to clarify, hands loosening on you like he’s afraid he’s already crossed a line.
“I don’t mean— I just— I really miss falling asleep next to you. I miss waking up and knowing you’re there.” His voice dips, softer. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
There it is.
The raw honesty. The almost-embarrassment. The way he looks at you like he’s bracing for rejection but hoping so hard it borders on painful.
You can’t help it.
You laugh.
Not mocking. Not cruel. Just a quiet, affectionate sound that makes his shoulders sag with relief even before you answer.
“You look like you’re about to ask me to adopt you,” you tease gently.
His lips twitch, sheepish. “I’d be a very good emotional support boyfriend.”
That does it.
You slip your hand into his, fingers lacing together like they never forgot how. “Come on,” you say, tugging him lightly. “You can stay.”
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months.
You lead him down the hall, hand in hand, and he follows without question.
Your bedroom feels different with him in it. Warmer. Fuller. Like it’s been waiting.
Before he gets in bed, he pauses by your dresser. A small, almost proud smile tugs at his lips as he pulls out the clothes he once left here months ago.
You never threw them away.
He slips into them quietly, the familiar softness of the fabric hugging him. Something about it feels like reclaiming a piece of himself, like stepping back into a place he’d never meant to leave.
You crawl into bed first. He joins you carefully, like he’s been granted access to something precious.
The moment you settle, he moves closer, tentative at first, then more certain when you don’t pull away.
He settles nearly on top of you, chest against yours, head resting against your heart.
His arm wraps around your waist, molding to you as if he’s always known exactly how you fit together. Like muscle memory.
His weight is grounding, a quiet claim, and you can feel the steady beat of his pulse through his temple against your chest.
His face tucks into the curve of your neck with a quiet sigh, nose brushing your skin.
“You’re so warm,” he murmurs. “I almost forgot how warm you are.”
Your fingers find his hair automatically, combing through it slowly. He melts at the touch, a soft sound leaving him before he can stop it.
“I missed this,” he whispers. “I missed you like this. God, I felt so empty without you here.”
You feel his lips press gentle kisses to your collarbone. One. Then another. Nothing demanding. Just affection spilling over.
“I kept reaching for you in my sleep,” he admits, voice muffled against your skin. “Waking up and realizing you weren’t there was the worst part of my day. Every day.”
You tilt your head slightly, giving him more room, letting him nuzzle closer.
“You forgave me,” he says quietly, almost like he’s still surprised by it. “I don’t know how, but… thank you.”
You smile to yourself, thumb tracing lazy circles near his temple. “How could I not?” you murmur. “You’re looking at me like I hung the moon.”
He lifts his head just enough to look at you, eyes soft, open, unguarded.
“That’s because you did,” he says simply. “And I’m not letting myself forget it again.”
Your chest tightens in the best way.
You tug him closer, burying your face into his hair now. “Get some sleep,” you tell him softly. “You’re safe.”
He relaxes instantly at that. Fully. Arm tightening around you, grounding, protective. The steady press of his chest against yours makes your own heartbeat slow.
“I’m so glad you’re mine again,” he murmurs, already half-asleep. “I promise I won’t take this for granted.”
His breathing evens out soon after, warm and steady against your neck.
You stay awake a little longer, fingers still in his hair, smiling as he presses one last sleepy kiss to your skin.
When you think he’s finally asleep, your lips brush over his temple. “I love you,” you murmur, just enough for him to hear.
A soft sigh, a subtle shiver, and then his lips press to your neck, feather-light but unmistakable. You can feel the curve of a smile against your skin.
“I love you more,” he whispers, voice low, intimate, almost vibrating through you.
You smile against him, kissing the top of his head gently, closing your eyes at last.
Your body relaxes fully underneath him, into the weight and warmth and presence you’ve missed so desperately.
Finally, after everything, you let yourself just be.
